How many members of the Republican Party does it take to change a light bulb?

Big Dave forwarded an email to me that I think I need to share.

How many members of the Republican Party does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer: TEN...

1. One to deny that a light bulb needs to be changed,

2. One to attack the patriotism of anyone who says the light bulb needs to be changed,

3. One to blame Clinton for burning out the light bulb,

4. One to tell the nations of the world that they are either for changing the light bulb or for eternal darkness,

5. One to give a billion dollar no-bid contract to Halliburton for the new light bulb,

6. One to arrange a photograph of Bush, dressed as a janitor, standing on a step ladder under the banner "Bulb Accomplished",

7. One administration insider to resign and in detail reveal how Bush was literally "in the dark" the whole time,

8. One to viciously smear #7,

9. One surrogate to campaign on TV and at rallies on how John McCain has had a strong light bulb-changing policy all along,

10. And finally, one to confuse Americans about the difference between screwing a light bulb and screwing the country.

And after all is said and done, no one will notice that they never actually managed to change the light bulb.

Who Writes Those Chinese Fortune Cookie Fortunes, Anyway?

After spending an afternoon at the “Democrat Shack” I went to supper at a Chinese Buffet just down the street in Rosenberg with Susan and her Bubba.

Almost the whole time the dinner conversation was what a terrific blunder John McCain made when he picked Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate. We ticked through all the scenarios. We searched for rationales. We spun off one-liners.

We wondered about God’s Plan.

We wondered why He would send a mighty wind into Louisiana again on the day Governor Palin addresses the Republican National Convention.

Then “the damage” came on its little tray with three individually wrapped fortune cookies perched upon it.

We each dove for one and wrestled them out of their plastico-cellophane wrappers. Susan read hers, then she read Bubba’s.

Then she read mine.

And smiled.

“You have got to put that on your blog, Hal," she said.

So I did.