From MSNBC:

About a quarter of the nation’s TV stations cut off their analog signals Tuesday, causing sets to go dark in households that were not prepared for digital television despite two years of warnings about the transition.

Okay, first, Obama wanted to delay this transition, and he got it: Congress changed the date to sometime in June.  What happened was that some of the stations went ahead and cut their analog signals, to save money (and who among us doesn’t want to save money right now?).  Frankly, I’d rather hear someone bitch about how their TV channel went dark than to hear about one of my friends who works for that station getting laid off.

But you know what?  I think — with a two year lead, 730 +/- days of warning — that you don’t get to complain.  Because the government offered little cards (I got mine as soon as they were available) that you could use to get converter boxes for essentially free.  Most of the people I know have digital TVs anyway, which don’t require converter boxes.  And for chrissakes — there have been commercials on every channel I get (no cable or satellite — local betwork only) announcing this for as long as I can remember.

If you’re too stupid to pay attention to the news, you really don’t need a TV anyway.  Your brain’s already rotten enough.  Get outside and enjoy the fresh air for a bit, or pick up a book.  Morons.

From MSNBC:

An increasingly embattled U.S. Sen. Roland Burris said he “welcomes” the chance for authorities and elected officials to look into how he landed a coveted Senate appointment from ousted Gov. Rod Blagojevich.

Burris’ admission that he had more contact with Blagojevich advisers about the Senate seat than he described under oath to a state House impeachment panel has furious lawmakers asking for an investigation into whether the Democrat committed perjury.

And the revelation that Burris tried to raise money for the governor after Blagojevich’s brother asked him for fundraising help has triggered calls for Burris’ resignation.

When do we, as a nation, finally get fed up enough with this sort of behavior — thinking we’re above the law, acting as though we are above reproach — that we finally start treating it like it deserves? Take a rolled up newspaper and swat these people on the nose until they stop doing it.  Seriously — if it’s good enough for our dogs, who we actually like, why not politicians?

Don’t investigate him — you have all the evidence you need. This isn’t about impropriety anymore — it’s about flat-out lying.  You lied.  LIEDLIEDLIEDLIED.  You get to go home now.  And every single person in Illinois that you represent?  They’ll be waiting for you with newspapers.  Hopefully wrapped around crowbars.

No wonder we’re so screwed up as a country. Here’s your newspaper bailout plan: give every citizen $1.25.  Then give them free reign to treat bad behavior as it deserves to be treated.  Newspapers get saved for at least one more day, and the politicians either start acting like the rest of us or sleeping in the yard for another night.

So there’s this thing you dream about, yeah?  It can be whatever you want it to be: a woman, riches, power.  In my case, let’s just say it’s a Tribble, and if you don’t know what Tribbles are, I envy you for not having Star Trek fans in your inner circle.

And in this dream — that was both figurative and literal, by the by — you yearn and yearn until you finally get this thing, and for a very short time, you’re very happy.  But then, before your eyes, with the speed at which such things can only happen in dreams, that thing you always wanted begins to smother you.  If it’s power, maybe it’s the accompanying responsibility; if it was a woman, maybe she’s far less than you had idealized.  In my dream, it’s a Tribble.  And if you don’t know what Tribbles are, then my dream would be even scarier to you than to me.

Pretty soon, you’re literally drowning beneath that thing you always wanted; it’s killing you, crushing you.  That’s the trouble with Tribbles, I hear.

But then, just before your last breath runs out, you wake up, still clutching at the beauty of the thing you always wanted, and you return to sleep, hoping to try that dream one more time.

This is only bothersome because the remix is titled abandon.error, for a song called abandoner.  And because I sometimes take my psychology degree too seriously.