Do politicians ever cause you to murmur "Whatthebloodyhell?"
For instance: When Pennsylvania's Attorney General announced that the Altoona diocese covered-up the sexual abuse of hundreds of children by priests, she did it in front of a distractingly ginormous screen that read "Pennsylvania Attorney General, Kathleen Kane."
"Today is their day," Kane said of the victims.
But you wouldn't know it, because the oversized, overpowering screen behind Kane seemed to infer that "Today is my day and in case you chumps forgot, I'm Kathleen Kane, attorney general."
She may have needed to remind us of that fact: In September, her law license was suspended by the PA Supreme Court because she is facing perjury and other charges for lying about a grand jury leak and her job as Top Lawyer in the Land is in jeopardy.
In addition to the mammoth sign, the other weird aspect of the announcement was that Kane also read, in excruciatingly slow detail, grotesque specifics about individual cases of the clergy's abuse. I'm not against exposing the priests' perversions, but I felt sorry for the victims who had to hear Kane's deliberate, public recitations. It was like listening to your strict teacher read a sex manual aloud - information that should be shared, but not in such an uncomfortable manner by someone you don't particularly admire.
Another strange political undertaking arrived in my mail a few weeks ago. It was a large, glossy four-color brochure from my local member of Congress, Chaka Fattah.
It sure was purty, full of color photos of the smiling politician and a list of all he has accomplished over the past year.
But there was one point he omitted in the gleaming pamphlet: Fattah was indicted in July of racketeering charges for public corruption schemes and misappropriation of federal funds.
Whoops, guess that takes some of the sparkle away from the grand pronouncements in the mailing, like this one:"This year, I reintroduced the REDEEM Act, legislation that will help transform our country's broken criminal justice system."
Oh, irony, thy name is politics.
Here's an idea: Why not skip the grand PR mailer, telling all us little people how wonderful you are, until your own legal troubles have been tidied-up?
Last, but absafreakinglutely not least, was the story about Sen. Ted Cruz and his family celebrating his Texas primary win at the Redneck Country Club in Stafford, TX.
Holy moonshine, are you telling me that they actually named a country club after a clan of hillbillies? And that a presidential hopeful would actually patronize it?
Turns out that the "country club" is actually an unapologetic good-ol' boy venue offering food, drink and live music, and was founded by a controversial conservative radio talk show host (is there any other kind?).
Whew, was I glad to learn that it was not an actual country club, because that might start a weird naming trend,like Prosperous Money Launderers Country Club or For Really, Really White People Only Country Club.
But, hey, these days, the Redneck Country Club is the least of our surreal political head-scratchers.
Know what I'm sayin, Donnie?