So the big twist, the huge surprise was... there was no decoy at the tents. We've seen the final shows by all four finalists. Excuse me while I yawn.
Such drah-mah as there was consisted of Uli taking Nazri (the model) away from Michael, and then deciding her usual schmata looked like a house dress, and tearing it apart and starting over. Why it took her til last night to come to that blazing revelation, your guess is as good as mine. But Nina and the rest of the judges (the guest judge was the fashion writer from the Wall Street Journal, a newspaper famous for its coverage of the edgy and new...and also for never publishing photos) just had to fan themselves because cutting about two feet off the hem caused them to see the same old same old as something new and different.

Michael should have stolen Marilinda from Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo, because that girl can sell the worst piece of crap on the runway as haute couture (thinking of the mustard yellow plaid Hot Topic evening gown). But he didn't, and more's the pity. Michael hit the proverbial wall last night and just sketched and sketched and sketched and finally found something to sew, but... well, let's just say that it was no Pam Muthafukkin Greer ensemble, despite a passing resemblance in terms of color.

Laura made another impeccable Laura dress, but with a slightly different colorway, one very closely related to her jet set dress. Slit down the front and back. Lace, beads, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. But tailored to within an inch of its life.

Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo took time off from being all dark and edgy and shit to do something he called romantic and... provocative. He also called a horse-drawn hansom cab a rickshaw, so what the hell does he know. He made a point of telling the world that it was beautiful and hand-sewn. Meh. The blue velvet that he used for the bodice was luscious, the marble-sized pearls he stuck on the neckline, not so much. There was a giant red waistband that looked to be semi-pleated and a bubble skirt. Yes. A bubble skirt a la Angela the much maligned. In white. With what may or may not have been raw hems. Ho-hem/hum.

And then they all got to stay and Tim got all misty-eyed. Next week will be the reunion show where Keith Malfoy goes all Travis Bickle on Heidi, et. al and nobody really cares who will win on the 18th.

This just came through the in-box, from a very pissed off boss. Now, granted, he's been on a tear, just in general, for the past couple of weeks* but this is particularly biting.

Pressed repeatedly today on the NIE/Iraq at his WH press briefing, the unabashedly mendacious Tony Snow finally replied (not answered) to a question with this: “Do you think Osama bin Laden is better off today than he was 6 years ago?”

The reporter ignored the outrage and insisted Snowjob answer her question instead.

But Snow’s comment is perhaps the most heinous spinjob proffered yet by this cowardly war mongering gang o’ thugs. And IF this is the new standard by which we must measure political success/failure, then I suggest that rather than asking Osama (gotta find him first, o-mr.-dead-or-alive-commander-in-chief) whether he’s better off today, we instead ask …

Cindy Sheehan … whether her son Casey is better off today than he was 6 years ago?

Valerie Plame and truth-telling Ambassador Joe Wilson whether they are better off today than they were 6 years ago?

The grieving widows/widowers, parents, children and other loved ones of the nearly 3,000 who’ve died in Iraq to preserve & protect the Halliburton lies … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago?

The 140,000 troops currently stationed in Iraq who’ve been lied to from day one about the purpose of their mission, the length of their mission and the resources they’ll have to carry out their mission … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago?

The too-few troops on the ground in Afghanistan facing a resurgent Taliban … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago?

The World Trade Center in New York … whether it’s better off today than it was 6 years ago (especially after a certain do-nothing president did nothing with a 2001 intelligence report warning of an imminent attack involving airplanes)?

The nearly 3000 who died in those towers … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago (especially after a certain do-nothing president did nothing with a 2001 intelligence report warning of an imminent attack involving airplanes)?

The passengers and crew of UAL #93 … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago (especially after a certain do-nothing president did nothing with a 2001 intelligence report warning of an imminent attack involving airplanes)?

The folks on the plane and at the Pentagon … whether they’re better off today than they were 6 years ago (especially after a certain do-nothing president did nothing with a 2001 intelligence report warning of an imminent attack involving airplanes) (Barbara Olsen excepted, of course)?

If this is the Rove-Mehlman-Boehner-Frist Talking Point of the Day, then Democrats must not just laugh it off for the obscene absurdity that it is. They must attack. Just like Bill Clinton would do/did.

* which is also why I'm actually sort of kind of buckling down at the office and doing filing and secretarial shit.

God said to Abraham
Kill me your son
Abe said, Man, you must be puttin' me on.
God say No.
Abe say What?
God said You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin' you better run.
Abe said Where you want this killin' done
God said Out on Highway 61.

Yeah. Rock and roll and religion often go hand in hand around here at the Casita de Zapatos. In temple today, Jews heard the story of Abraham, although probably not too many rabbis actually quoted the Bob's version of events.

For many years, I attended a Reconstructionist synagogue, and the rabbi gave some excellent sermons. One High Holy day sermon included a reference to Jefferson Starship. Unfortunately, not the one I thought. The rabbi asked (rhetorically, as it turned out) who remembered what the Starship said? I yelled out from somewhere in the middle of the room: "Feed your head?"

Uh, yes, but the quote he was looking for was "No man is an island, he's a peninsula."

It was equally embarrassing for everyone involved.

Another year, many, many, many decades ago, I chose not to fast, not to go to services, and instead to ride my bike to art history class. After class, I got a drink of water, got back on the old ten-speed and sailed across campus. And right into the front bumper of a woman who was running a stop sign. I broke two ribs and totalled my bike. She spoke no English (how convenient) and tossed eleven dollars at me before she drove away.

My father pointed out, with absolutely no sympathy and no irony, that had I been an observant Jew, I wouldn't be nursing broken ribs and in need of a new set of wheels. I've attended High Holiday services religiously (pun intended) ever since.

Well, except for the past two years, since Daddy died and I just haven't been able to force myself back into a temple. I don't feel anything cliche, like God's abandoned me, nor have I abandoned my religion, it's simply been too hard for me to see the old men in their tallitsim, and hear the prayers in Hebrew.

This year, I was at home, and the RLA and I went in the back yard to plot out where the trees are, for the architect to plan the studio around them. And then, while I watched, JoJo ran through a hole in the fence. A hole that isn't really there. And out the neighbor's yard and promptly disappeared. The RLA and I and half of our neighbors were on foot, bike and in cars looking for her. I called her and called her. I took the Noble Dog Nails out on his leash to help me find her. Nothing. Nada. She had vanished into thin air.

I couldn't even begin to grasp the thought of life without this dog. I was walking and crying and dying. And then I heard the RLA calling my name. He had her. She'd followed a stray cat into the gated development across the street. She was perfectly fine, and, in fact, was on her way home when he found her.

I can take a hint, you know. I've taken those two broken ribs very seriously for the past 30 years. I can take this hint, too. I'll be seeing you next week, in temple.

L'Shana Tova.

Well, it was Wednesday night, so it was fuzzy bathrobe and bunny slippers night at the Casita des Zapatos. Bravo is torturing the Project Runway fans with a week of repeats, so the new CW (what ever that stands for, but I don't think it's Country/Western) came to the rescue with the two-hour premier of season 7 of America's Next Top Model. Sigh. Pour the cosmos, bitches.

I'm not going to dis the show and say that it's gotten formulaic, or anything (much) but last night we found out that there were more girls with sorrowful backstories than not. There's the girl who was in a plane crash when she was nine, and her mother's dead body kept her warm enough to survive. WHOA, doggies. Issues? A couple? You think, maybe?

There's the girl who is darker skinned than all of her other family members, and so she's the outcast for being the most colored person of color. Miss Jay, Tyra and Nigel all got jiggy wit dat. Ohhhh, I'm sorry. Slap me now. But they did. The only person on the panel who looked as puzzled as I felt was Twiggy.

There's another girl who is a cervical cancer survivor, and another one whose momma dropped her off at Child Protective Services (after they left the homeless shelter) and never came back for her. She, in her own words, went from homeless to homecoming queen. She was the Very First Person of Color to be homecoming queen in her hometown. Now, I don't remember where she was from, but children, the first Black homecoming queen in my hometown was voted in only five years after desegregation. I'm just saying. It's been a long, long, long, long time since I was in high school. I'm just sayin'.

In the role first made popular by Camille, and then improved upon by Eva-The-Diva, and continued in every season after, that of the de riguer Black Bitch, we have some ho who pretended to pee on another girl's bed, just so she could "mark [her] territory." That was after someone else had claimed the bed, mind you. Same girl also refused to take less than an hour-long shower, clean up after herself or in any other way be a nice roomie. I'm betting she gets the boot sooner than later, because Mr. Jay (who, was it just the settings on my teevee, or is he a little less orange this season?) will NOT stand for that sort of behavior on HIS sets. Hmmmph. Flounce.

Speaking of flouncing, those nasty, nasty Aswirl Twins were back, and I hope only for a two minute guest shot. Yeah... back to the bitches.

We had the stripper who wasn't a stripper, she was an ENTERTAINER, beeyotch. There's the prettiest girl in school, the delusional dog, the rocker chick. We had the mousy little good Christian girl who wouldn't do the nude shot because nobody should ever get to see her woman parts except her husband and God, and that includes herself (as one of the other hos so rightly noted). And we have our first set of twins, and as much as they have babboon noses, they turned it out in front of the cameras, and I'm betting that one or both get into the finals. The fact that they are twins confused some of the other girls who couldn't quite figure out if that made the twins one or two contestants. There's the mommy whose idea of the all-American family goes like this: I'm a model, I have two kids and my husband is in the military...in Iraq. There's an Indian girl from down the highway from me... Homestead, Florida. Indians in Homestead? Hondurans, Mexicans, Guatamalans, si... but a sub-continent Indian? How the hell did HER family end up in Homestead? And where does she eat when she's in town?

So. First we get snaps on the runway, the LAX runway. Then we do the interviews. Then we had the first rough cut and the next batch of girls get taken to an LA rooftop for some nude shots. That separates some of the chaff, but not all. Next up in our whirlwind first epi, the girls get dragged off to some warehouse or another for a fashion show. They get to see some boy models (any one of whom is prettier than any one of the girls) strut down the cat walk, then they have to take the outfits off the boys, fem them up a little and restrut. Melrose (long in the tooth) wins by a mile. This will come back to bite her in the ass. Note to next season girls: don't win in the early contests.

Short interlude where we see the cool new house, and discover that in two days these young things can make a show house look like a frat house at the end of the semester. What fucking pigs! Who raised these girls? Right. Dead mother, absent mother, and a minister.

Since we don't have Janice to kick (the girls) around any more, Tyra tried to chanel the Divine Miss D. herownself to show the girls how a real alcoholic psycho bitch diva behaves on set. Then, in what Mr. Jay claimed to be The Most Controversial Shoot on ANTM EVAH!!! (would that be even more controversial than, say... the super-hero alien shot? Or the girls on an elephant? That was pretty edgy and controversial, wasn't it?) the girls all get to be model stereotypes.

This is actually a very cool concept, and the baboon-nosed twins nail their shots of anorexic an bulemic models. The resident psycho bitch gets to be Naomi Campbell and throw a cell phone at an assistant, but can't pull it off. Go figure. Squinty-eyed rocker girl gets to be Gia (yeah, they were saying Janice, on set, I'm betting.) and cop a nod with a bottle of Jack in her hand. There's a dumb blonde (Paris?) and the girl who won't get out of bed for less than 10K, the fabulous bitch with the tiny dog and the entourage (who was made up to look like Eva the Diva, IMHO) and a handful of others too boring to remember.

Melrose finds herself in the bottom two, the other girl gets sent home. I don't remember who won. Bulemic twin? Next week, MAKEOVERS!!!!! (and, more importantly, a new episode of Project Runway.)

PS: Where's POTES over at Television Without Pity? This new guy/girl can't hold a candle to Potesie... TWOP? Call me.

So the POTUS doesn't know what "degrading to human dignity" means. I have a couple of ideas, and I'm sure you do, too. I'd love to be given the chance to show him some of my ideas, up close and personal, if you know what I mean, and I'm sure you do.

Feel free to add your ideas in the comments.
1. being forced to watch the POTUS's speaches on an endless loop

2. having to listen to Paris Hilton defend her singing or having to listen to her sing

3. being forced to watch Eraserhead on an endless loop

4. being forced to watch highlight reels from Project Runway's Santino and Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo pieced together with highlights from America's Next Top Model's own Jade-the-Delusionial

PS: Click on the image below to order your free bumper sticker.

Avast, ye seadogs, we be havin' too much fun today.

Yarr.