I’ve been perusing the housing options in Eugene again this afternoon, because I got my official “we have no housing for you!” notification from UO. Boo. It’s all making me feel cranky and scrambled, because it seems like I’m either going to have to find and sign for someplace sight unseen (ugh), try and find my way up to Oregon next month and do a mad dash through several places (pocketbook ugh), or just wait and try and find a place when I move up there (anxiety all summer, ugh). So… I will now try to stop thinking on it. I’m getting plenty of good advice from a number of suggested sources on this, so I’m not looking for more info at the moment, I’m just whiny.
How, how, how did I make it through yesterday without making the Ultimate Post of Triumph? TOM DELAY IS LEAVING CONGRESS! Hip hip HOO-FREAKING-RAY! I know now how the Munchkins felt when they started singing “ding dong the witch is dead.” This is EXACTLY what I think. There was no politician in all of the U.S. that I despised with the vehemence that I despised Tom DeLay. I contributed to two campaigns in 2004: John Kerry and Richard Morrison, the guy running against Tom DeLay in Texas. I hate Tom DeLay. He became (past tense, past tense!) the symbol of all that was wrong with the Republican party for me during his tenure in office, and during his rise to power. Honestly, if given the choice between the president resigning and seeing Tom DeLay in danger of going to jail, I would have at times been hard pressed to choose. DeLay is smarm with a God stamp on his forehead. He wasn’t smart, he wasn’t savvy, he was just down right evil and mean. He was Sam Brownback without brakes and with power. I hate, hate, hate Tom DeLay. And yesterday, I sent him a card in the mail thanking him for resigning. I should’ve said happy birthday, too. I have posted the front-page USA Today story — headlined “DeLay to drop out of race, House” — on my bulletin board at work, underneath a Christmas stocking, because that’s what it’s like. I have to find a new life’s goal, now. Tom DeLay is gone. Ding, dong.
The day he resigns, which is set for June, I will buy the first pitcher of margaritas for anyone who wants to go out and celebrate.