It seems I have a quota. Who knew? When I'm writing 5 or 6 pages a day of actual paid work, I blog here, I blog at my kidlit blog, I run around annoying people by posting comments on their blogs. When I'm writing ten or twelve pages a day of actual work I pretty much don't write anything else.

I'm in the last chapters of a book. 550 pages, give or take, and the way it's built is that the last 75 pages or so are lots of quick-cut action scenes. This is my favorite stuff. I hate writing exposition. He said, she said, he felt, she thought, that's not fun to write. Yesterday I had a character hanging in the air above whirling helicopter blades. Now that's fun to write.

When I'm writing the fun stuff I don't blog because I hit my quota in paying work. But it suggests that there's some fixed number of words I have to spew on any given day. Today I got distracted while working. I only nailed about four pages. So here I am.

We couldn't at first figure out why Bobby Jindal made us laugh so hard. One reason here. That plus the jaw-dropping content. Really, Bobby? You're bringing up Katrina? Telling us there's no hope from government? In Louisiana?

This is the great non-white hope of the Republican Party? This clown and Sarah Palin?

Form the committee. I'll write a check.

I swear to God I have tried to help my Republican and right-of-center friends. I've tried to warn you that Obama was neither a fool, nor Bambi, nor a radical, nor a crook, nor a naif. I tried to tell you.

But, no.

I said, this guy is smart. This guy is subtle. This guy is ruthless. He's going to bend you over and the smart move, the only smart move, was to grab a piece and claim an assist.

And none of my Republican friends listened.

The GOP jumped out there to present its goose-egg on the stimulus plan, sticking their aged, palsied chins wayyyy out. And tonight Obama delivered a Sugar Ray Obama uppercut that knocked the silly twats on their asses. The Limbaugh Party was just run over by the steamroller of history.

Dear Republicans: It's 1856, and you're Whigs.