Men...

This snarky, superficial observation from the weekend comes not out of any real ill-will, but only from having a pile of crap on my desk too overwhelming to think about at the moment. So I'm invoking the Scarlett O'Hara defense ("I'll think about that tomorrow"). Well, for the next 15 minutes anyway...

Dear Joe Biden: I love you, man. Seriously. Couldn't be happier that you're Obama's running-mate. (If for no other reason than this brings the total count of people I know, or know of, from the state of Delaware to TWO.) But... when you're giving your first big speech as the Potential Next Vice President of the Free World, could you maybe have gotten a haircut? I know that we were all given short notice that you were chosen, but I'm assuming you got a better heads-up than the rest of us. And speaking of a Heads-Up... I'm also going to assume that there was probably one somewhere in the Springfield, Illinois area.


Dear Mayor of London: I don't know anything about you, but I bet I would like you too. Your name is Boris. How great is that? You strike me as a guy I'd enjoy sharing a pint of Guinness with in a pub. Some would argue that you too need a haircut, but I think it's cool. Sort of a young Ryan O'Neal meets Andy Warhol. However... I watched you on the closing ceremonies of the Olympics last night (Horrid London intro/preview/whateverthehellthatwas, by the way. You get David Beckham and Jimmy Page to fly to China and that's all we get? And don't even get me started on that weird bus and those umbrella dancers...) and I was wondering if maybe in 2012, when you're on television in front of another gabillion people, you could try buttoning your suit jacket? Just a thought.

Say what you will about Hillary or the Queen and their hair and their outfits, but they would have made damn sure they were properly groomed and appropriately buttoned. And one of them would have would have not only waved that Olympic flag around like a champ, but she'd have done it while also carrying a handbag...