Well, it’s a hukilau at the Casita de Zapatos. We have a full house: MJ & RJ, Star & the Number 3 Surrogate Daughter, and Yogi & BooBoo (the RLA and I are a given). The first howl of delight fantastic came not five minutes ago with the announcement that Florida Governor Charlie Christ had to return to Tallahassee on “urgent legal business” and could not stay with Twitchy McCancer Jowls and the FemBot Veep at their victory dance. Schnort. And now, Ohio has been called for Obama and Florida is tipping bluer and bluer. Bwahhahahahahaha. And now New Mexico, that boil on the ass of the high desert has also been called for Senator Obama. We’re looking at 200 electoral votes and it isn’t even 10.

ETA: it’s 10, and Iowa just went into the Obama column. Whee. Florida is still too close to call, but it’s still wobbling like it’s gonna tip to blue. North Carolina is now showing blue on MSMNBC’s map. And Arizona is too close to call.

ETA: It’s 11:04 and the talking heads at Fox are giving Obama 297 electoral votes, and slitting their wrists. Here at the Casita, I’m cracking the champagne. America, let’s light up a cigarette, and talk about how good it was.

This is it. This is my last pre-election post. The fate of the free world is in the hands of the American voting public, and the machinations of the Machievellian Republican party. I’m terrified that this election will be stolen, like the last two. My boss, the political wonk, assures me that this won’t happen. He’s predicting an electoral college vote of 350 for Obama. I’m predicting civil war if he loses.

Here’s the stump speech that Bruce Springsteen’s been giving for Barack Obama. I can’t say it better.

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN’S COMMENTS FROM THE STAGE AT CLEVELAND’S VOTE FOR CHANGE RALLY

November 2, 2008

Hello Cleveland

It’s great to be here today among friends. I’d like to thank Senator Obama and his folks for inviting me. I’ve been here many times since 1973, but never on a day as glorious as this one. We are at the crossroads.

I’ve spent 35 years writing about America and its people. What does it mean to be an American? What are our duties, our responsibilities, our reasonable expectations when we live in a free society? I saw myself less as a partisan for any particular political party, than as an advocate for a set of ideas. Economic and social justice, America as a positive influence around the world. Truth, transparency and integrity in government. The right of every American to a job, a living wage, to be educated in a decent school, to a life filled with the dignity of work, promise, and the sanctity of home. These are the things that make a life, that build and define a society. These are the things we think of on the deepest level, when we refer to our freedoms. Today those freedoms have been damaged, and curtailed by eight years of a thoughtless, reckless, and morally adrift administration.

I spent most of my life as a musician measuring the distance between the American dream and American reality. For many Americans who are today losing their jobs, their homes, seeing their retirement funds disappear, who have no health care, or who have been abandoned in our inner cities, the distance between that dream and their reality has never been greater or more painful. I believe Senator Obama has taken the measure of that distance in his own life and work. I believe he understands in his heart the cost of that distance in blood and suffering in the lives of everyday Americans. I believe as president he would work to bring that dream back to life, and into the lives of many of our fellow Americans, who have justifiably lost faith in its meaning.

In my job, I travel around the world, and occasionally play in big stadiums, just like Senator Obama. I continue to find everywhere I go that America remains a repository for people’s hopes and desires. That despite the terrible erosion of our standing around the world, for many we remain a house of dreams. One thousand George Bushes and one thousand Dick Cheneys will never be able to tear that house down. That is something only we can do, and we’re not going to let that happen.

This administration will be leaving office, dumping in our laps the national tragedies of Katrina, Iraq, and our financial crisis. Our house of dreams has been abused, looted, and left in a terrible state of disrepair. It needs defending against those who would sell it down the river for power, influence or a quick buck. It needs strong arms, hearts and minds. It needs someone with Senator Obama’s understanding, temperateness, deliberativeness, maturity, pragmatism, toughness and faith. But most of all it needs us. You and me. All a nation has that keeps it from coming apart is the social contract between its’ citizens. Whatever grace God has deemed to impart to us resides in our connections with one another, in honoring the life, the hopes, the dreams, of the man or woman up the street, or across town. That’s where we make our small claim upon heaven. In recent years that contract has been shredded and as we look around today, it is shredding before our eyes. But today we are at the crossroads.

I’m honored to be here on the same stage as Senator Obama. From the beginning, there has been something in Senator Obama that has called upon our better angels, I suspect, because he has had a life where he has so often had to call upon his. We’re going to need all the angels we can get on the hard road ahead. Senator Obama helped us rebuild our house big enough for the dreams of all our citizens. For how well we accomplish this task will tell us what it means to be an American in the new century, what’s at stake, and what it means to live in a free society. So I don’t know about you, but I want my country back, I want my dream back, I want my America back. Now is the time to stand together with Barack Obama and Joe Biden and the millions of Americans that are hungry for a new day, roll up our sleeves and come on up for the rising.

Tonight, we’ll be watching and praying and drinking at the Casita de Zapatas. I’m too afraid to ice the champagne, so it’ll be vodka, at least for a while. Come on, America. Do the right thing.

Well? You folks in the states with early voting, have you done it? Are you going to? Let’s fill those ballot boxes, people. It’s just too important. For all of us.

And if you think this entry is a little short, here’s an op-ed from The Guardian UK, pulling no punches on how the rest of the world sees American politics these days.

I’m blogging while watching Barack Obama’s infomercial. So let’s start with the rant from The Skipper:

And ... one more thing, re mcSame’s whining about how, when he’s president, no one is going to delay a World Series game for an infomercial.

Rather than just ignoring his whine as more of the irrelevant verbal diarrhea we associate with this pitiable, befuddled, hapless, grumpy old man, it is really stunning.  What he’s saying is this:  The fact that millions of people have lost their jobs isn’t important.  The fact that millions of people have lost/are losing their homes isn’t important.  The fact that every family with ANY retirement savings has seen those savings decline by at least 40% isn’t important. The fact that we haven’t gotten bin Laden after 7 years isn’t important. The fact that we’re bogged down in Afghanistan with things slipping away isn’t important. The fact that the whole world hates us isn’t important. The fact that we are held hostage to imported oil isn’t important. The fact that our infrastructure is literally falling into the Mississippi River isn’t important. The fact our schools aren’t getting the job done isn’t important.  The fact that our budget is entirely out of whack isn’t important. Because if those things (and much more) WERE important, then they certainly would be worth a half-hour of prime time TV time for thoughtful examination, regardless of who was speaking (Obama, Bill Clinton, Ralph Nader, John McCain, Sarah Palin, George W Bush, Ross Perot, T Boone Pickens, Stephen Harper, Bud Selig, Bill Maher, Christopher Buckley, Paris Hilton, Nicolas Sarkozy, Look-into-his-soul Putin, etc.). But, in mcSame’s world of entitlement for corrupt, adulteress, drunken, low-achieving war heroes, BASEBALL is more important than any serious discussion of the issues.  He knows what’s best and will fix it.  So you just sit in front of the TV, mindlessly watching the rain in Philadelphia and drink Cindy’s beers, and don’t trouble your tiny little brain.  Thank you very much.  You betcha.

Aaaand, another love song for Sarah Palin:

But wait, there’s more. Over at Flamingo Musings, RJ shares an idea for the run up to the election: wear blue, especially if you live in a “red” state. It’s subtle, it’s clever and it sends a message. Maybe not one that everyone can get without explanation, but a message none the less.

Finally, let’s go over to Rolling Stone, and see what those guys are saying about Maverick McCain and the scary FemBot Veep.

Back from the void, the original actors reprise their roles in one of the more annoying (or more amusing) ads of the past decade.

I’m going to kill myself or my boss. Or maybe just hurl… a brick through the always-on CNN television in his office, or my breakfast. If I have to listen to that high-pitched mosquito-like drone of John McCain and his verbal tic of “my friends” for one more fucking minute the odds are good that it may go down in this order: hurl breakfast, brick through the tv and boss through his window.

I voted yesterday morning. I am so disgusted by the McCain/Palin campaign, the depths to which it has sunk: the Anti-American states vs the Pro-American states… the them vs us, the fear-mongering. The nerve of that twitchy little Hitler, to bring up the specter of nukes and to imply that he had been tested during the Cuban Missile Crisis (1962?) because he’d been a fighter pilot off the coast of Cuba. Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but as a fighter pilot, he was just sitting there waiting for the orders that would have come from the Commander in Chief, President Kennedy. John F. Kennedy and his brother Robert were the ones being tested in that instance. And for him to claim that this somehow makes him, Twitchy McCancer Jowls ready to lead? Hah.

You want to talk tested in a time of crisis? Let’s look at his record on the USS Forrester.

One such case involves McCain’s experience in the devastating fire and explosions that killed 134 sailors on the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal during the Vietnam War three months before he was shot down over North Vietnam. McCain has made claims about this accident that differ dramatically from parts of the official Navy report and accounts of reliable eyewitnesses…

...Whatever the circumstances of the fire’s origins, McCain did not stay on deck to help fight the blaze as the men around him did. With the firefighting crew virtually wiped out, men untrained in fighting fires had to pick up the fire hoses, rescue the wounded or frantically throw bombs and even planes over the ship’s side to prevent further tragedy. McCain left them behind and went down to the hangar-bay level, where he briefly helped crew members heave some bombs overboard. After that, he went to the pilot’s ready room and watched the fire on a television monitor hooked to a camera trained on the deck.

McCain has never been asked to explain why he claims that the Zuni rocket struck his plane. If a bomb or bombs subsequently fell from McCain’s plane as he has said, it seems to strongly suggests pilot error, and if a bomb or bombs did not fall from his plane, it suggests rash disregard for important facts in his accounts of the accident.

There is plenty more about this story that raises questions about McCain’s truthfulness and judgment. In the first hours after the fire, he apparently did not claim to have been injured. New York Times reporter R.W. Apple, who helicoptered out to the ship the day after the tragedy and sought out McCain as the “son and grandson of two noted admirals,” never mentioned him being wounded, although he reported on him more than on any other crew member. This would be an odd omission on Apple’s part if McCain indeed had been wounded, given that service wounds are usually highlighted in such reports during wartime.

Read the whole report here. Try not to scream with indignation and rage.

And I can’t let this go without a swipe at the other half of the ticket. Lifted from Mr. Fish

Open on the girls, because there are no boys. Korto is sad for Jerell, but oh, well, at least she’s showing and that’s what matters the most to her. We quickly flit to the Blowfly work room. Tim’s proud of everyone. They have to edit their collections down to only 10 looks. But not now. Now we’re going to cast models.

A rapid recap of model casting: Korto needs big hair. Leanne is particularly fond of some random little girl who looks like an alien. Kenley is advising Leanne as to who she should cast. Leanne wants Kenley to mind her own beeswax.

Back to the Blowfly room for Tim’s walkabout and the editing of the collections. He begins with our Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong, and asks again about the ropes. Kenley isn’t using a quarter-inch cord, people, she’s using an inch thick black hawser. Every where. Wrapped around necks, binding on necklines, accents between materials. It is pretty horsey. Kenley tells Tim that she’s going to put Topogigio in the feather wedding dress as her final look. Tim reminds her that the judges already saw it. She replies that they saw it and LOVED it. Tim asks if that’s really what she got from their critiques, and she lunges for his throat. “Yah, what? You think that they called me a knock-off? They’ve done that ,like, four times and it’s in-SULT-ing. I’m sick of it.” Then she interviews that it’s just too damn bad that that know-nothing Tim Gunn didn’t like her ropes, because she does and she’s keeping them and that’s that. Period. As Tim walks away from her, the façade falls for the briefest of moments and we see him arch an eyebrow and roll his eyes. It’s reality show gold. No, it’s reality show platinum.

Korto tells Tim that because Heidi said she wouldn’t be caught dead in either the wedding dress or the bridesmaid’s dress, she’s going to toss both of them and make two new dresses in the next two days.

Leanne still has work.

Collier Strong and the hair/make up consultations. Korto wants nature. Kenley wants a cherry red lip and her models to look like porcelain dolls. Leanne wants clean and modern.

Model fitting. Kenley disses Leanne’s color sense. Yeah, I know. Leanne disses Kenley’s hand-painted fabric, and calls it Holly Hobby and like someone’s kid painted it. It’s amateurish. Leanne has a point.

One day to show and the models get their test hair and make up. Kenley talks trash about Korto. Tuh-Tuh-Tuh-Tia comes in for her fitting with her pocket puppy and the little thing takes a poop right near Leanne’s work station. Tia cleans it up while still wearing her gown. Leanne has a nervous breakdown, and nothing happens to the dress. Kenley gets ugly about the little tiny dog and demands that it not go near her or her work. Honey, doggies have a sense about people. I don’t think it would willingly go within thirty feet of you.

Day of Show (finally)

We see the tents at dawn. Kenley takes a stroll down the runway and cries about how proud her parents are going to be and how her tugboat driving daddy will think this whole thing is “rad as hell”. Hmmph. Kenely is then seen being rude to her staff of assistants. Imagine that. Kenley then trumpets on about how beautiful her work is, and how amazing her models are and how she is fer sure gonna win.

And we’re off. Heidi comes out to announce the fabulous guest judge, and it’s J.Lo… who has called in sick (or indifferent) at the last minute, so the guest judge will be…Tim Gunn. We get another moment of reality show gold as the cameras cut to backstage where Kenley has a moment of realization that she’s spent the past twelve weeks being an utterly disrespectful twat, and that maybe she should have had a better attitude. Brilliant.

Kenley’s show is first, and she is using some weird industrial drone for music that makes it impossible for her models to walk with any rhythm or beat. The ropes are horsey and the colors clash. Also, although I haven’t seen anyone else say this, that first look with the too-short in front, oddly long in back skirt with the tent-striped underside reminds me of Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo’s work. Most of her work is not to my taste, but I do love the pale shirt-waist dress with the mandarin collar, full skirt and single line of badly painted flowers. We see Kenley’s family and it appears that she has a twin sister and her mother looks like Amy Sedaris when she’s in her Candy From Strangers make up. Woof.

Korto comes out, cries a little and asks “Don’t I look hott?” And she does. Her show is beautifully styled, with the models wearing fake Japanese-inspired buns and holding little fans. The colors are vivid, and the integration of her large-scale beadwork into the dresses is innovative and exciting. Bianca (the stank ho from some season or another of ANTM) is looking fine and works the hell out of the microscopic green dress she’s presenting. Dani (Winner of some season or another of ANTM) is looking even better and is wearing an amazing evening dress, whose strap is the beadwork.

Leanne’s collection is last, and it is the most cohesive of them all. She is working with a tight palate of colors: ivory, tea, aqua. The line is a complete collection of separates that don’t necessarily look like separates, but she has skirts, shorts, pants, tops, evening wear and cocktail dresses. Her inspiration (waves) is obvious as the flaps and noodles move on the runway. It really is amazing work. The wedding dress is maybe the most beautiful thing to come out of PR since Laura’s grey evening gown with the chartreuse beading. She has chosen a watery-sounding techno for her music.

After the Show

We see Fern Malis complimenting Kenley. Oh, NOES! Korto is voted fan favorite and gets the big check. Oh, GOOD.

At Parsons the judges fill a little airtime with empty chatter about this being the year of the women and how every one of them had their own point of view and blahblahblah.

Michael Kors tells Kenley that he liked her collection. He calls it charming, not a word usually associated with Kenley. Tim says that her workmanship was good. NinaGarcia says that the flowered dress looks like Balenciaga. Kenley says that she heard that a lot today, but that she wouldn’t know because she NEVER looks at anyone elses work.

Korto is complimented for letting her heritage show without resorting to clichés. NinaGarcia says that she made it look effortless and cohesive. They rave about the long green gown. Tim tells her that her short (and one of her last minute additions) taupe dress looked “sublime” on the runway.

Leanne’s workmanship earns a “divine” from Michael. NinaGarcia raves over the fact that Leanne put everything into the show: shorts, gowns, etc. Then we get the criticism of the look. Michael says that he’s afraid that she’s going to be known as Petals Marshall (great porn name,BTW). NinaGarcia frets over what a show of 40 pieces would look like.

The designers each say why they should win. The only notable reason is that Leanne’s collection was at least 50% sustainable (green) fabrics. We get one more round of judges chatter: Tim says that Kenley needs to take a fashion history class. Korto makes complicated look deceptively easy. Is Leanne a one-note designer? Korto understands women of all sizes and shapes and can dress/design for them all. The fan poll comes in for Leanne for the win, a landslide at 50%.

Heidi announces that they have decided. Kenley, you have a great future, but not here. You’re out. Kenley leaves with a display of the same class she showed throughout: It’s bullshit. I should have won. I’m not a copycat, I’m a true artist.

Leanne wins, and Korto cries. Chin up, Korto. You won fan favorite, and you have probably already gotten at least half a dozen offers from high-end designers.

And another season comes to an end. Will there be another? Will it be on Bravo? Stay tuned.

A special tip of the wingtips to my GirlCousin, who sent me this one. Turn it up and sing along. I agree with everything, except I think the RLA and I are bound for New Zealand if this election goes to the McPalin ticket.

Previously on Project Runway, Kenley was a stank bitch, Korto fell apart and Jerell won the evening gown portion of the competition, but was still eligible for elimination, proving that anybody can get screwed over by ratings at any time.

Heidi comes to the runway in something sheer and poofy and possibly by Christian Siriano. The four designers will have to go home and make a collection of 10 looks. They will have two months and eight thousand dollars. And since they all sucked in the last challenge, one of those ten designs must be a wedding dress. That dress should sum up their collection, and will be the deciding challenge when they return to New York. One final cut will be made and only three designers will compete at Fashion Week.

And they’re off. Jerell sits in the lobby as Stankenley pulls her suitcase past and refuses to say good-bye to him. She delivers a final interview where she says that the other designers hate her and the feeling is mutual and they all sabotaged her and blahblahpoorpoorpitifulme. The other girls reach the lobby, there is much hugging and loving, and they are sent away to make the magic happen.

Tim’s On the Road, Again

First stop, Little Rock, Arkansas, where he meets up with Korto in her super-cool studio in the woods. She says that she’s inspired by the snakes and the trees and the beautiful shades of green around the studio. She’s also inspired by her native culture. She is accessorizing with her own beadwork (which is very nice).

She shows Tim a lime green snakeskin dress that is extremely form fitting and which has a vulva-shaped inset in beige in the girly-bits area, and the whole thing is so overtly sexual that Tim gets a little unsettled. Of course, Korto doesn’t see it. Her wedding dress is not looking like a wedding dress, and Tim thinks there’s a lot of work left to do.

Korto takes Tim to her home to meet her family, and there is a review of her emigree background. She says that the experience taught her that just because you fall, you don’t have to stay on the ground. She and her drumming partner perform a drumming session for Tim. There are nice looking cocktails on the table.

Next stop: Portland, Oregon and Leanne

Leanne welcomes Tim to her home and introduces him to her sort of nerdy boy friend. Then she tells him that when she got back to Portland, she went to the waterfront and sketched and sketched. Her inspiration for her collection is wave patterns and how she interpreted the movement. Her color palette is tight and limited, but in a very ethereal range. Tim is concerned that the white is too white and suggests that Leanne tea-dye some of it.

Her wedding dress is stiffer and less flowing than the rest of the collection. Tim reminds Leanne that the wedding dress is the make or break piece. Then Leanne takes Tim for a ride through the woods on a tandem bike. Tim is still in his suit. It’s sort of, uh, awkward. But sweet. Leanne tells her back story: baby ballerina, started making her own costumes, wanted to be a designer since she was twelve. Sweet.

Los Angeles, Here Tim Comes

Jerell has grown a goatee. He’s hotter than ever. He takes Tim to his studio where we see piles and piles of fabrics, each one more glittery or ugly than the last. Jerell is into mixing textures and unexpected colors. Or, Jerell is color blind. I think we should look into that possibility. His wedding dress is beige and grey and rouched and tulle poufs and beaded bodices and everything else he could throw at it. Tim thinks that Jerell needs to edit himself. He’s also unhappy with how asymmetrical the wedding gown is. Tim cautions that the collection needs to be believable, and not look costume-y.

Then it’s off to meet the family. Pretty people (especially the love interest. Damn.) Jerell’s mom says that she always knew Jerell was going to do something in the creative field. Jerell says that when he was four, he took a tube sock and cut it up to be a dress with a train. I’m not sure if it was for him or a doll. Very sketchy. Jerell’s daddy was a truck driver who was never home because he was working to lift his family out of the neighborhood they lived in (Rodney King riots were literally next door). Jerell cries.

Back in NY

Kenley is working from her studio apartment in Brooklyn. She has a sofa that’s either from Urban Outfitters or Anthropologie. I recognize the black and white print, at any rate. The editors attempt a redemption arc by letting her say that she really values everything Tim has to say, even if her snotty attitude and eye-rolling and “what does Tim know”-ing makes it seem that she doesn’t. She tells us that her grandmother was a calendar girl, and shows us a photo that is clearly the inspiration of everything Kenley has ever made. She cries and picks her nose.

Tim comes in and gushes all over the wedding dress, which is, as much as I hate to say it, totally amazing. There is a feather bodice and peplum that explodes into a huge tulle skirt. She’s got some green thing on a mannequin, and has accessorized with black rope wound several times around the mannequin’s neck. This squicks Tim right out, and he asks Kenley about the noose thing and if she had given any thought to the fact that it might look like someone was hanging themselves. No, she hadn’t and of course it doesn’t look like that. Her daddy was a tug boat captain and she grew up playing with rope. She has no friends or family to introduce to Tim. (Figures)

And We’re Back

Korto arrives at the Atlas first, and is nervous about seeing Stankley again. She doesn’t want to have to room with her. Fortunately, Leanne is the next to arrive, and she and Korto stake a claim on one suite, together. Jerell shows up next (without the hot goatee) and the girls apologize for making him room with Kenley. He asks them to check on him once in a while to make sure she hasn’t killed him in his sleep.

Kenley finally shows up and as she’s dragging her suitcase past the others, throws back over her shoulder, “Yeah, sorry if I was a bitch or whatever.” It’s as heartfelt as it’s gonna get, people. The sponsors arrive with champagne and nibbly bits and so, to bed.

In the BlowFly Workroom

The designers unpack and check out each other’s work. Tim comes in to give them a final pep talk and ruin their lives with one more, final, last challenge. Let’s make a bridesmaid’s dress to go with your wedding gown. One day to have a nervous breakdown, and $150 to spend at Mood. Let’s roll. Leanne knows exactly what she wants to do and the colors and fabrics she wants to use. No drama to see here, let’s move on.

Back in the workroom, Kenley is digging at and picking a fight with Korto, who just ignores her. Jerell is miserable and says that all bridesmaids gowns are butt ugly. Korto says that hers weren’t.

Tim comes in for the walkabout and starts with Kenley, who is doing a dark blue bubble skirt and a darker blue boat neck top, with the same cut away armholes she used on her Solo in the Spotlight lizard dress. I find the skirt way too short.

Jerell has mangled some slate blue crispy organza into a column dress with a sash decorated with a stem of silk orchids. It is bunchy and wrinkly. He tells Tim that he’s going to use what looks like ivory acrylic bulky-weight knitting yarn to attach the silk flowers to the dress. Tim is very properly horrified at this suggestion and tells Jerell not to fight with Mother Nature. Or NinaGarcia, says Jerell. Or NinaGarcia, agrees Tim. I love Jerell, but he has thrown this challenge in the toilet with that bridesmaids monstrosity.

Tim discovers that Leanne has taken his advice regarding her wedding dress and completely remade it. Now it looks like an origami meringue, and I say that in the most respectful and quite frankly, awestruck way possible. Her bridesmaid’s dress is the perfect compliment, and Tim tells her to bring thought to the length of it.

Korto has pretty much given up, too and her bridesmaid’s dress looks a lot like the wedding dress. Too much so, says Tim. And then, our man Tim Gunn starts to cry. He loves them all, and he wants them all to do well. Tim’s never cried on the designers before. What’s all this then?

Runway Day

Jerell dresses funny. That’s all I’m saying. The designers all look like five miles of bad road. The models are coming in for hair and make up. Kenley complains to the camera that when she looked around the workroom, she saw that both Korto and Leanne copied her paper. Those big cheaters made short bridesmaids dresses, too. Just like her. They knocked off her design. Remember that. There is crying from Korto. There is Heidi in another sheer blouse that looks like a Christian Siriano.

And there is the show. Jerell’s models come out, and the girl in the bridesmaid’s dress is wearing the rest of the potted orchid on her head. Oh, Jerell. The colors are gorgeous, but the whole thing looks like he dug it out of the bottom of the dirty laundry hamper.

Kenley’s wedding dress is still amazing and gorgeous. I still don’t think the two pieces work together and the bubble skirt is still about 6 inches too short.

Korto’s dresses don’t look like a wedding party. Leanne’s wedding dress is stunning. And it has pockets. I love it, but what do the judges have to say? And there is no guest judge, just Heidi, NinaGarcia and Michael Kors.

They love Leanne’s dress, too. NinaGarcia calls it “chic, modern and dreamy.” MK loves it and Heidi declares it “Fan-TASST-ik”. Jerell’s dress, though, not so much. Michael loves the wedding dress from the empire down, but the rest he finds garish. Jerell says that he finds it regal. See, this is why drag queen is a bad phrase for designers. Not all queens are regal, sweetiedarling. And the flower pot on the head is certain death to Jerell’s dreams. NinaGarcia thinks the colors look dingy and dirty.

And now, Kenley. Well, they love her wedding dress, and Michael says it’s fabulous but it’s also Alexander McQueen. Kenley denies it and reminds everyone that she doesn’t look at other collections. You be the judge.

And then, in the biggest fix since I don’t know: the 2000 election in Florida, Heidi and Michael just gush all over the fucking wedding party, heaping undeserved love all over the knocked-off wedding dress and the too-short bubble skirt. It’s disgusting. It’s crazy good says Heidi, and Kenley is obnoxious in victory, squealing an over-the-top “RILLLLLY????” and dabbing onion juice at her eyes so she can cry without the snot running down her nose.

Korto’s two pieces get a series of disdainful sniffs, snipes and an “I wouldn’t wear that on a bet” from Heidi, and then we are on to the judging.

Leanne’s dress is both architectural and romantic. Kenley’s rip-off of AMQ is a great show finale dress. Korto’s doesn’t look like a wedding and Jerell went hog wild, threw too much of everything into both pieces and lost his last semblance of taste. Despite the audience voting overwhelmingly to toss Kenley off the stage for good, and not let her show her sour puss at fashion week, the final three are Leanne, Kenley and Korto.

Jerell is not down though, as he tells us in his exit interview that he sees himself at 80 getting a call from the Metropolitan asking to do a retrospective of his life’s work. And with that, we are done. Until next week, when we finally learn who wins. And if it isn’t Leanne, then I’m done with this show, too.

Thoughts on last night’s “debate”, if by debate, you mean competing talking points and stump speeches.

According to the LA Times, McCain used the phrase “my friend(s)” 24 times in 90 minutes. If you allow for the questions and Tom Brokaw reminding them of the agreed upon time limits, that would be maybe 35 minutes of talking time for each candidate, which means that John McCain referred to me as his friend on average of once every 85 seconds. It got on my nerves. There is no way in hell that he and I could ever be friends in real life.

Another annoying verbal tic on his part is that simpering, self-deprecating snigger (heh, heh, heh) whenever he says something that he thinks is clever. It reminded me of nothing more than Mickey Mouse, who does the same thing. In the same octave and register. Make of it what you will. At one point I turned to my husband and said, I would never let that man near a grade-school playground. He is very creepy. The RLA said that he thought McCain would scare the children. I was thinking something a little more sinister.

My man Barack Obama has his own little verbal ideosyncracy, which is no less annoying: He begins his statements with “Look.” And I understand, I do, I sympathize with someone who had to be the smartest guy in the room last night, trying to make a point to those who would not see…or hear. “Look, it’s really simple” is what I’m sure he wanted to say.

The faces on the crowd members ranged from “I’m smelling something nasty” to “you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me with this shit, right?” And yet, there was that control group, sitting there talking to the talking heads and professing that they still couldn’t decide who to vote for. Like there’s a choice? It’s the economy, stupid. And the economy is in the giant, reeking crapper. And that propped up rotting corpse with the FemBot Veep in the wings, waiting to bring on the End of Days has been in the catbird seat for thirty years. Keating Five. The Great Recession of the late 80s-early 90s that resulted from the deregulation of the S&Ls. Sort of the dry run for the Even Greater Depression that we are careening into today, as a result of deregulating the traditional banking industry.

I’ll tell you something else. I don’t give a flying rat’s patootie if drilling off the coast of Florida would solve all of America’s energy problems tomorrow and for the next 100 years. It would fuck up the environment irrevocably long before that. I don’t want drilling in the Gulf or the Atlantic or in the Florida Straights. Period. Stick a few hundred wind mills out there, instead. Figure out hydro solutions with the tides. Put solar panels on the roof of the new Marlins Stadium. But no drilling off-shore.

I loved the question from someone on-line who said what would you ask the American people to do, to sacrifice to help the various challenges the nation faces? Obama almost came close to having concrete answers to that. Finally, what ever happened to real debate? You know, pro/con? Lincoln vs Douglas style oration and on-your-feet thinking? I’d pay to see that, but I fear that I’ll never see that kind of political exchange in my life-time.

The best political reporter today is an ex-sports writer. But he’s not afraid to take off the gloves when dealing with the Fem-Bot/Stepford Veep. Twenty-three Skidoo!!

I tried to watch the Veep debate, I really did. I played Palin Bingo, and was a single “Working Mom” away from winning when she delivered the punchy soundbite she’d set up the minute she walked on the stage and asked Senator Biden if she could call him Joe. That zinger, that you know McSame pundits just pissed themselves over was this: “Say it ain’t so, Joe”.

“Say it ain’t so” is a line from baseball legend, the apocryphal tale of a small fan asking Shoeless Joe Jackson if he had, in fact, been involved in the plot for the Chicago White Sox to throw the 1919 World Series. Yeah. 1919. Except for baseball junkies, and movie goers who saw the film “Eight Men Out” (which was the movie we went to see the night the Anti Christ and I split, and he moved out, and which, in my head will forever be “Nine Men Out”), who knows what that phrase referenced? In terms of archaic humor, this little guy is a whiz-banger. Twenty-three skidoo!

Next, instead of saying “yer darn tootin’” or one of her other patented down-homey colloquialisms, Ms. Palin will be exclaiming that her running mate is the bee’s knees. I can’t wait to see them cut a rug, maybe doing the Turkey Trot or the Charleston. Good lord, how pathetic is this? And they’re claiming that Obama and Biden are out of touch? Let’s practice speaking McSame, shall we?

“That Sarah Palin is a bearcat in cheaters.”

“She tried to sound like she knew her onions, but it was all a load of chewing gum.”

“John McCain is a flyboy who keeps saying things are jake, but he can tell that to Sweeney.”

Your turn. To help, a list of Jazz Age slang can be found here.

We open in the Atlas, where Korto is brushing her teeth in the kitchenette sink. Ewww. Not nice. And I love Korto, but still. In the kitchen sink? Leanne offers an interview wherein she says that Kenley should have been gone a long time ago, for her stank attitude, disrespectful demeanor and all around general rudeness to the world. And because she can’t design, either.

Kenley, however, interviews that Leanne is a bitch who threw her under a bus in the last challenge by not working/selling her garment on the runway and making Kenley look like a fool. The Number Three Surrogate Daughter and I agree that Kenley can do that just fine without any help from anyone. Kenley uses the word sabotage, even. Sabotage, from the French sabot, for the wooden shoes the mill workers threw in the machinery during the Industrial Revolution, to break the mechanical looms and retain their jobs. This ends today’s language lesson.

Jerell is sitting on the floor in what used to be the boys’ dorm, alone except for his Tim Gunn bobble head doll, and the two apples he’s named Joe and Suede. He holds the Suede apple and talks in the third person: “Suede wants you to do well today, Jerell.” As he leaves, he reminds the fruit not to rot on the counter while he’s gone. Oh, Jerell.

At Parson’s there is another model swap non-event, as Korto keeps Katarina and Seveera is sent away in her slip. Tim is waiting for the remaining designers in the lobby, as there is yet another (or last) field trip. This one finds the designers in the New York Botanical Garden, where they meet Collier Strong, lead makeup artist for Loreal Paris. He tells them that the textures and colors of nature are the inspiration for some line of cosmetics or another, and that their final challenge will be to design an evening gown inspired by nature. Specifically, the nature in the New York Botanical Garden. They get a digital camera, and an hour.

Jerell wanders around and finds a bed of purple and fuchsia roses. He’s happy. Leanne wanders around surrounded by bees. She’s not happy, but she takes lovely photos of out of focus lavender flowers. They aren’t Lavender flowers, they are merely the color lavender. Korto finds a spot that has flowers that reminds her of her mother’s garden in Africa. The flowers are spiky and range in color from cadmium orange to lemon yellow, all on the same spike. She says that she’s going to win this challenge for her momma. Kenley declares that this is her challenge because she is all about color (and ugly floral prints). She crows and caws her usual line of drivel about being the best.

Back at Parsons, the designers have 30 minutes to pick their inspirational photo. They will have 2 days to sew, and a budget of $250 to spend at Mood. Korto is using her Flamenco flower, and Jerell his roses. Kenley alone has chosen something that is not a flower. She’s focused on a purple coleus, and has a photo of a cluster of leaves. At Mood, she bolts off looking for tulle (of course) and then finds what she says is the “perfect” fabric to represent her leaves: a fuchsia fake lizard skin. It is a literal depiction of the texture in the coleus.

Korto is sweating because she has no background in evening wear. Well, she never made men’s pants before she won with her punk look for Suede, so take heart, Korto. Leanne is sketching a tiered effect using a softer, more draped version of her flaps and noodles. Kenley panics when she realizes that she left her bag of tulle at Mood. Tulle. Who the fuck uses tulle except wedding dress makers and ballet costumers? Kenley. Kenley uses it like bad cooks use salt: everywhere and in everything.

As it happens, both Korto and Jerell have tulle that neither of them is going to use. But, you know? Karma is a bitch, just like Kenley, and neither Korto nor Jerell have any intention of letting Kenley get her hands on a square inch of it. Jerell amuses himself by leaving his piles of tulle on clear display on his work table.

DAY TWO

Jerell comes into the girls’ dorm to say hi and ask Korto to give him a smokey eye. In the workroom, Kenley asks Jerell if his tulle is for sale, and he grins and says nopey. Tim discovers Kenley’s shortage, and tells her that she can hot foot it back to Mood on her own time to get her tulle, if she needs it. But for now, it’s models and fittings. We see Leanne and her soft periwinkle blue fabric. Kenley is using her faux snakeskin to make a basic tube dress.

Collier comes in and discusses the models’ makeup designs. Kenley wants a dark, dramatic eye. Jerell gets to use lime green on the eye, and purple on the lips. Korto is going gold and glowy, and Leanne delicate and flower-like. Sweet. Jerell and Korto are nose to nose and toes to toes, giggling and sharing a moment. Kenley is sitting by herself. She interviews that she’s alone. The other designers are bonding, and she’s all by herself. It’s been like this her whole life. She doesn’t know why.

Hey, Kenley? The reason it’s been like this your whole life is because you are the nastiest, meanest, rudest little snot-nosed bitch to ever grace reality teevee. Really. You make Puck look like a saint.

Kenley goes on to say that her daddy was a tug boat captain, and she spent her childhood out at sea. Raised by sea wolves? Anyway, she says, she can’t help it. “I am who I am.” You know? Sometimes, it’s just too easy. My notes say: “Insert Popeye joke here.” I’m guessing that Swee’ Pea turned out to be the bastard child of Olive Oyl and Bluto, and now she’s here on Project Runway.

Tim comes in for his walkabout, and begins with Korto. Talk to me about the lace. It’s all sleek and 2008 in the front and Catherine the Great in the back. Resolve the lace, Korto.

Kenley announces that she loves her dress. Tim is so over Kenley. He says that the bottom looks like fish scales. Kenley is delighted to hear that. Tim reminds her that this was a botanical challenge and not an oceanic. Kenley hears “blah, blah, blah, Kenley, blah, blah, blah” and is thrilled that Tim has praised her work so highly.

Jerell’s dress has the potential to knock everyone’s socks off. But it needs refining and work. Of Leanne’s dress, Tim says, and I quote: “Blerg.” He calls it Hello, Dolly. As he leaves, he tells the remaining four that he’s immensely proud of them and to work, work, work. Instead, they all cry, cry, cry. The pressure has finally gotten to them all. Leanne’s crying over how much work she has left to do. She’s wanted to show at Fashion Week since she was 12.

DAY OF SHOW

We see Jerell ironing his clothes, and dress in a towel. Now he’s crying. Korto is praying and crying. The only one not crying is Kenley, and that’s because she’s too busy saying that she hates everyone else and their work sucks, too. In short, her opinion is that she doesn’t like anything Korto does. Jerell throws a bunch of glamorous shit together and it looks like crafts projects and Leanne does pleated details. Hofuckinghum, seen it all before.

Whereas, nobody’s done retro WWII dresses, ever.

Leanne is still sniveling that this isn’t going to be her best work. Korto is stressing. And with that, we hit the runway. Tonight’s guest judge is Georgina Chapman, founder and designer for Marchesa.

Korto’s dress is, well, uh, boring, actually. Leanne’s lavender is interesting and asymmetrical, but the dark blue fishtail in the back looks like an afterthought. Jerell’s dress is draped and fitted in the front (albeit frighteningly low across the bust) and has a sac back. There are layers of color in the front. Kenley has stuck a little black patent leather belt around the waist of her dress. It is a simple, skin-tight tube with cut-away armholes. At the bottom are layers of flaps with satin edging. It looks a lot like my Barbie doll’s Solo in the Spotlight dress.

Beginning with Leanne, the judges are impressed with her work. The bodice is great, says Chapman. NinaGarcia says that it’s feminine and soft. Michael Kors is distracted by the dark blue bustle (See?) and Heidi says that the dress is pretty.

Korto’s flamenco flower dress is dismissed as “pageant” by Michael and Heidi. NinaGarcia thinks that it’s overworked, and not sophisticated. Korto tried too hard to impress the judges, and lost her taste.

Jerell’s dress makes Heidi want to jump up on the runway and hike the girl’s bodice up about 4 inches. NinaGarcia finds it “messy but youthful”. Chapman asks what Jerell would have done with extra time to make the workmanship better.

And then there’s Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong. Georgina says that it isn’t organic. NinaGarcia says that it looks like a reptile (and as Kenley interrupts to say thanks for the compliment, you get me, you really get me) NinaGarcia continues her sentence with “and not in a good way. It is not young or hip or cool at all.” Michael Kors tells Kenley that it’s clichéd and she tells him it isn’t. Heidi remarks that the dress isn’t very elegant, and Kenley snarls that “I wasn’t GOING for elegant, HEIDI.” It is truly an amazing performance. The amount of self-satisfaction combined with complete and utter incapacity for criticism and knowing one’s place is stunning.

So. Heidi asks the final question of each designer: Why you, and who else do you think should show at Bryant Park? Jerell is up first, and cries and cries and gets all twitterpated, and finally arrives at the answer that he should be joined by Korto and Leanne because the retro thing that Kenley does is old. Kenley interrupts him to bitch at him and Jerell stops crying long enough to tell her to stuff a sock in it and she’ll get her own turn to speak. Yeah for Jerell.

Leanne promises not to be boring and wants to see Jerell and Korto with her, because they are at the same level of talent, unlike Kenley who only has the same old same old. Korto wants to show because she’s the oldest of the designers and she wants to prove that it’s never too late to achieve a dream and she wants to show a little of her cultural heritage. And yeah, Leanne and Jerell are really sweet human beings with really fine designs and should be the other designers in the tent.

Needless to say, none of this sits well with our little nest of vipers, and Kenley shits on Korto the most, saying that her work is boring and although she would personally, rather not see any of the others at Bryant Park, if forced to choose, she’d grudgingly accept Leanne and Jerell.

The judges agree that this was not the best show of the year. NinaGarcia makes a face that matches the “blerg” Tim uttered in the workroom. Georgina Chapman says that she would like to see more of Leanne’s work, and that she finds Jerell’s work intriguing. There are concerns about his finishing techniques, but his point of view is young and exciting.

Korto’s final dress was too pageanty and clichéd, but her workmanship is impeccable. Her color sense is also applauded. Kenley? Not so much. Chapman says that she saw nothing of Kenley’s promise or the style that the other judges swore she had. And then Miss Kors delivers. Forget what her clothes look like, he says. She’s rude. Can you imagine her if a buyer said he didn’t like a sleeve? What would she do? Take a knife out and kill him?

With that we cut to the last freaking Bluefly commercial of the show and I truly, deeply hope that smug bitch gets some clothes before next season.

Heidi tells the designers that this was the closest runway they’ve judged in 5 seasons. Only three will compete at Fashion Week. Leanne and Jerell had the highest scores, and Jerell squeaks by with the win. All four designers must go home and create a collection, and all four are still in the running. The final three will be determined when they come back to New York for Fashion Week. This means that Jerell can still be eliminated.

Backstage, Tim calls for a group hug. Kenley interviews that it’s annoying that the other designers hate her, but it just makes her want to beat them into the dirt. This attitude may be why they (and we) hate you so, Kenley. You are a rude, insensitive, self-absorbed skank bitch. And your designs suck, too.

One last preview shows Jerell, Korto and Leanne sitting together in the hotel as they return for Fashion Week. Kenley is heard in voice over saying that it isn’t worth even talking to the others, because she’s never going to see any of them ever again.

You know? Probably not so. For sure you’ll be trotted out together for reunion shows, and guest appearances. And if, as you all so deeply desire, you make it in the fashion world, it’s a pretty small circle. Most likely scenario is that you will see them and they will cut you cold. Like the flounder you are.

Next week? It’s Erev Yom Kippur, you idiots! I’m going to have to go to RJ’s as soon as services let out, because she’s the one with TIVO.

That Sarah Palin is an unmitigated idiot, a Stepford Veep, a fem-bot with her logic chip impaired, this video should dispel all doubts. Compare and contrast, muthafuggers.

I’ll be back later with my Project Runway recap, because, you know, all politics and no play makes me more unbearable than Sarah Palin.

OH. MY. GOD. The Rude Pundit has outdone himself, again. I’m having a shitty day here at my shitty job, and the car I’m trying to sell has to have work before I can sell it, and my husband’s run up a dental bill of about $2000 this last month, and the special snowflake that I work with is up my ass so far that if I grind my teeth any harder, I’m going to shatter one or more, but I read Rude’s essay on what Joe Biden should say about Sarah’s readiness to serve, and I laughed out loud. And felt a little bit better for a minute or two.