For those of you waiting, pining even, for your MOLI dose of snarky election coverage, I do apologize for the delay. A few days ago, I joined the ranks of the child-bearing. His name is Marcos and he came into the world ass first, as good a way as any in these uncertain times. Suddenly a mere political contest seems so much less important. But I suppose that it's actually more important, since now I'm obligated to do more about the world than simply throw peanuts from the gallery.

At the moment, I'm just trying to figure out how this this charming little alien creature has managed to turn me into a drooling, cooing zombie in such short order. I'm tired, sticky, leaky, creaky, and oddly energized, in the way I imagine a meth addict on the down spiral of a three-day bender would feel. It's a theory.

A friend sent me a song that perfectly captures some aspects. It's Xtc's "Pink Thing" written by Andy Partridge about his son. "Pink thing, spit in my face/ I'd love you for it. Anytime you call, I'll fall/ Into madness for you pink thing."

Just for fun, I started looking up other songs about babies and didn't realize that Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" is about his daughter. There's also John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy", and a funny one by Shel Silverstein and Loretta Lynn called "One's on the Way". I'm in the market for more, so if you have any suggestions, let me know.

 

But one thing about being chained to an infant is it leaves you with plenty of time to watch TV. So I've been keeping track of this increasingly ridiculous election cycle and will be getting on with the commentary soon.

Perhaps just after this nap...