Zut alors!

I don't care what Wednesday's Reuters/Zogby poll said, Obama will win. Unless the guy eats a baby on live television before Election Day, he will be our next president.

Thought you might like to know.

That being said, let the exploitation begin, Queen City of the Plains!

The Democratic National Convention starts Monday down in Cowtown. Ugh. Loath as we are to take notice of anything that smacks of popularity, the hoopla and hot lights of microbcelebrity that are being thrust upon our dusty state capital are impossible to ignore.

Children, what can I say? It will be a party.

Our first recommendation: DON'T GO. That's just what they want! You can be a witness to history, complete with close-ups, multiple cameras and commercial breaks, from the safety and comfort of your couch in the oak-paneled confines of the "TV room." No long lines, no overpriced drinks, no cavity searches (unless, of course, that is a game you play at home).

Plus, why would you need to visit a place that will simply be Boulder blown up to camera-ready proportions?

Imagine a city churning with protest groups, self-righteous reformers, micromanagers of others' sensibilities, policy wonks, militant Vegans, liberal celebrities, analysts, academics, anarchists -- and, of course, the long trail of dope-smoking, unwashed fake hippies behind them.

It will be like standing at 10th and Pearl streets for four days straight.

However, if go you must, at least the music will be better than that served up by the GOP in Minneapolis/St. Paul.

They hired the Beach Boys.

Yes, I know, I thought they were all dead, too!

And Styx.

Styx. If "Lady" ends up as McCain's theme song, there will be blood.

DNC? Not much better. At least they dug up Rage Against the Machine and -- if it doesn't get canceled over scheduling issues -- Public Enemy, two groups that did speak up against the dominant paradigm long before it was popular, and that also kick ass.

But let's be clear -- these guys aren't getting any younger. Fighting the power must be interspersed with periods of rest. Can't do a fist-pump when you're holding a mic and using a walker. Let the expectations begin diminishing now.

Two suggestions: Don't tell Flav, and whatever you do, do not ask them to do "Walk This Way!" They get that all the time.

Snob craft project No. 1

Did you know that you can create a faux lorgnette with some aluminum foil, two empty toilet paper rolls and Mylar[reg] tape? Irritate your co-workers by using them to haughtily watch some live streaming opera on your computer.

Nobody likes a lazybones, especially not when he and/or she is commenting about how pissed Deborah Voight looks doing "Salome," with the conductor dragging the beat!