Tuesday, January 31, 2006

 

Oh, I'm so glad I didn't say that!

A couple of friends have sent this to me in the past few days:

Have you ever spoken and wished that you could immediately take the words back or that you could crawl into a hole? Here are the stories of a few people who did:

1. I walked into a hair salon with my husband and three kids in tow and asked loudly, "How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?" I turned around and walked back out and never went back. My husband didn't say a word. He knew better.

2. I was at the golf store comparing different kinds of golf balls I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using. After browsing for several minutes, I was approached by one of the good-looking gentlemen who works at the store. He asked if he could help me. Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like playing with men's balls."

3. My sister and I were at the mall and passed by a store that sold a variety of candy and nuts. As we were looking at the display case, the boy behind the counter asked if we needed any help. I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your nuts." My sister started to laugh hysterically, The boy grinned, and I turned beet-red and walked away. To this day, my sister has never let me forget.
4. While in line at the bank one afternoon, my toddler decided to release some pent-up energy and ran amok. I was finally able to grab hold of her after receiving looks of disgust and annoyance from other patrons. I told her that if she did not start behaving "right now" she would be punished. To my horror, she looked me in the eye and said in a voice just as threatening, "If you don't let me go right now, I will tell Grandma that I saw you kissing Daddy's pee-pee last night!" The silence was deafening after this enlightening exchange. Even the tellers stopped what they were doing. I mustered up the last of my dignity and walked out of the bank with my daughter in tow. The last thing I heard when the door closed behind me were screams of laughter.

5. Have you ever asked your child a question too many times? My three-year-old son had a lot of problems with potty training and I was on him constantly. One day we stopped at Taco Bell for a quick lunch in between errands. It was very busy, with a full dining room. While enjoying my taco, I smelled something funny, so of course I checked my seven-month-old daughter, and she was clean. Then I realized that Danny had not asked to go potty in a while, so I asked him if he needed to go, and he said "No". I kept thinking, "Oh Lord, that child has had an accident, and I don't have any clothes with me." Then I said, "Danny, are you SURE you didn't have an accident?" "No," he replied. I just KNEW that he must have had an accident, because the smell was getting worse. Soooooo, I asked one more time, "Danny, did you have an accident?" This time he jumped up, yanked down his pants, bent over and spread his cheeks and yelled, "SEE MOM, IT'S JUST FARTS!!" While 30 people nearly choked to death on their tacos laughing, he calmly pulled up his pants and sat down. An old couple made me feel better by thanking me for the best laugh they'd ever had!

6. This had most of the state of Michigan laughing for two days and a very embarrassed news anchor who will, in the future, likely think before she speaks. What happens when you predict snow but don't get any? We had a news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman and asked: "So Bob, where's that 8 inches you promised me last night?" Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too they were laughing so hard!

********************

Listening to:

Boy George: Sold
Queen: Flash Gordon
Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: The Roaring Silence
Various Artists: Patch Adams, Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
Rod Stewart: Legendary Hits
Macy Gray: On How Life Is

 

Of Scientific Interest:

http://www.allheadlinenews.com/articles/7002099031

http://www.contracostatimes.com/mld/cctimes/living/health/13716029.htm

http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/state/20060126-0033-ca-blacks-lungcancer.html

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-teflon26jan26,0,662628.story?coll=la-home-headlines

Sunday, January 29, 2006

 

A Short Stroll

I'm beginning to think there must be a blog for every atom that comprises the earth. These are just a few I strolled into today:


http://pinkbellydancer.blogspot.com/
http://bad-breath-info.blogspot.com/
http://attentiondeficitdisordersite.blogspot.com/ (Nothing there. I guess their attention wandered.)
http://tigertalejournal.blogspot.com/

***********

What was for dinner?

Catalan monkfish (actually tilapia) with almond, garlic, & red bell pepper sauce
Steamed rice
Garden salad
Clos du Bois Chardonnay

Vanilla soy ice....uh....soy with honey
Coffee

 

Absolute Necessity in

Bathroom Decor

Saturday, January 28, 2006

 

Looking, But Not Seeing



It’s been years since I had dinner at Benihana and there’s a reason for that–the food is blech. However, it was a birthday party for a close young relative, so I went. Everything looked just the same as when I'd been there the last time: the "decor," the lines of people without reservations waiting to be seated, reservationed others already seated around the hibachi tables, the hostesses and chefs in their traditional "Japanese" uniforms. It took me more than half an hour to realize there was one big difference. Because there was a lot of ambient noise, when our chef would say something in his Asian accent, I always had to ask him to repeat what he'd said. Finally, I heard him say something garbled to our busboy and the busboy replied, "No tengo nada." Good gawdalmighty, I realized that, the accent I was hearing wasn't Asian at all! Although most of the hostesses were indeed Asian, the male workers, including our chef, were nearly all Hispanic! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since in the Bay Area, the majority of restaurant workers are Hispanic; but, damn, it was... dis-Orienting.

***********

Listening to:
Aerosmith: Honkin’ On Bobo
Fuel: Something Like Human
Various Artists: Superhits, 1972
Freddie Mercury: Mr. Bad Guy
Extreme: Extreme
Joan Armatrading: Joan Armatrading

Thursday, January 26, 2006

 

See Shells

I’ve never seen a firefly. When I was little, someone read a story to me about collecting fireflies in a Mason jar and using it for a lantern. I looked high and low, near and far, day and night; but I never did see one. Of course, living where there are no fireflies might have had something to do with my vain search.

Instead of collecting fireflies, I turned to collecting local insects and other creepercrawlersfliers. It was common for me and my friends to purloin canning jars and lids from our mothers’ precious stashes, punch holes in the lids, and set out to snare the unwary bumble or honey bee. If a uncautious butterfly happened to be snatched into a jar, all the better. Of course, we planned for the comfort of our prisoners–we lined the bottom of each jar with sweet green grass and a toothsome leaf or two–knowing from past history that, no matter how cushy the cell, our prisoners were doomed to their death fate quickly. Who knew that not all critters depend on the same green diet?

Now, at times I shared my twin-bedded room with my grandmother, who shuttled back and forth between my family and my cousin’s depending on which group she was more annoyed with. My grandmother, while not the most squeamish of homekeepers (my mother once caught her cleaning off the stovetop with the same rag she had just used on the toilet seat), was not fond of the lower forms of life, including my cat, which she frequently managed to kick "accidentally" if she thought no one was looking. Because of her critter aversion, I had to keep my wide ranging collection out of her sight. She would not have been too overwhelmingly pleased to know that it resided in the very far corner under her bed. Deceased butterflies (including one dismal chrysalis, destined to burst open to a world of imprisoning glass walls), ants, bees, beetles, snails, slugs, (but no puppy dog tails). No, she would have not been pleased at all, atall.

Some years later, after my father’s death, we moved to a new house in a new town to be closer to my cousin’s family. The new house was situated on a hill and had a tiny backyard. It felt cramped and unwelcoming–until I discovered a treasure. One corner was triangularly bounded on two sides by a neighbor’s fence, and on the base by a row of rocks interspersed by abalone shells! I have no idea how the former owners had acquired the shells. I don’t think I even knew the names or number of the former owners. All I know is that when, out of early teenage curiosity I moved some of the rocks and shells, out skittered a salamander, headed for a better, unmoveable shelter. Now, looking back from a position of ecological awareness and humane kindness, I’d like to be able to say I was amazed, pleased, and respectful of that creature’s life. I wish I could. I can’t. I hatched a plot, and as everyone knows, hatching a plot can be very painful–particularly for the plotted upon. Every so often I would turn over those rocks and shells, Mason jar in hand, and try to trap one of those poor little lizards. Eventually, I succeed. Trapped, imprisoned for life, it lived on a shelf on the laundry room. And when it eventually succumbed to the lack of food, water, and adequate breathing supplies, I filled the jar with alcohol (since I lacked a formaldehyde connection). And that unfortunate salamander would probably still be there on the laundry room shelf, if I hadn’t moved out, and if my mother hadn’t had a house burglary, and if she hadn’t move out herself and decided that she had no use for a preserved salamander.

What reminded me of all this was taking a bath yesterday morning and realizing that the abalone shell holding my razor was one of those that had once sheltered that selfsame salamander.

And thus are memories recollected.

***********************

Listening to:

Small Faces: The Anthology, 1965-1967, disc 2
Queen: A Kind of Magic
Leonard Cohen: Ten New Songs
Chage & Aska: No Doubt
Chumbawamba: Tubthumper
Norah Jones: Feels Like Home

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

 

Nuevo Proverbio

Es fácil hacer ofertas cuando usted sabe que no serán aceptadas.

Monday, January 23, 2006

 

Sunday Dinner

Gruyer cheese + some Spanish (?) cheese I don't remember the name of and crackers

grilled steak, chile/lime butter
baked potato/mayo
steamed broccoli/olive oil/garlic
asiago cheese bread from the Model Bakery
Coppola claret

molasses/chocolate cookies
coffee

************

Listening to:

Rod Stewart: Atlantic Crossing
Various Artists: Superhits, 1963
Sly & the Family Stone: Anthology
Matchbox Twenty: More Than You Think You Are
Culture Club: Don’t Mind If I Do
Freddie Mercury: The Great Pretender

 

If I believed in God

I would ask him to make a very special place in Heaven for this man.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

 

Candy Apple Flaming Flashing Neon Red Herring

I have read so many articles over the years about ALF/ELF that the names of the individuals have become familiar to me, so I have to wonder why these indictments weren’t brought long ago. I sincerely doubt that it has been a lack of substantial, prosecutable evidence. Has it been ineptitude on the part of the authorities, or have they been saving the indictments for just this sort of situation–to divert attention from, and make a case for, the illegal destruction of privacy rights by the cadre?

All Hail









I will not be surprised if they eventually cave in. But...just to take the stand they have, publicly, warms the cockles of my pessimistic heart (uh...what the hell is a heart cockle?). And, if I owned stock in Google, and if they held foursquare against the government, I would happily keep that stock until the company completely tanked and feel that I had done a patriotic duty.

As an addendum, I have always taken the attitude that nothing on the internet is private and that anyone who believes that it can be is either a fool, a naif, or a delusionoid. However, for the government to demand that anyone involved with the internet give up their semblance of privacy protection is treasonous

 

Am I the only one who wonders if

someone actually TRIED to come up with the worst cough drop flavor possible and discovered cherry-menthol ?

Allan Gurganus wrote his latest short story published in Harper's before or after the vicitimization of NOLA?

it isn't about time that we get rid of the proscription of hats at the dinner table?

Nagin believes in the adage, "It is easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission?"

the cuteness of squirrels is in proportion to the amount of damage they do?

 

Perfect Decadence

If you must be decadent, this is one way to do it.

 

Mixing Politics and Religion

President George W. Bush was scheduled to visit the Methodist Church outside Washington as part of his campaign. Bush's campaign manager made a visit to the Bishop, and said to him, "We've been getting a lot of bad publicity among Methodists because of Bush's position on stem cell research and the like. We'd gladly make a contribution to the church of $100,000 if during your sermon you'd say the President is a saint." The Bishop thinks it over for a few moments and finally says, "The Church is in desperate need of funds and I will agree to do it." Bush pompously shows up looking especially smug today and as the sermon progresses the Bishop begins his homily: "George Bush is petty, a self-absorbed hypocrite and a nitwit. He is a liar, a cheat, and a low-intelligence weasel. He has lied about his military record and had the gall to put himself in a jet plane landing on a carrier posing before a banner stating 'Mission Accomplished.' He invaded a country for oil and money, and is using it to lie to the American people. He is the worst example of a Methodist I've ever personally known. But compared to Dick Cheney and the rest of his cabinet, George Bush is a saint."

*****************
Jimi Hendrix: First Rays of the New Rising Sun
Jon Cleary: Moonburn
Boy George: The Unrecoupable One Man Bandit
Queen: The Works
The Mamas and the Papas: The Best of the Mamas and the Papas
Janis Ian: Breaking Silence

Saturday, January 21, 2006

 

A Ghost from Times Passed

The Advocate, 11/8/05, p.44

***********

Listening to:

Darren Hayes: Spin
Queen: news of the World
Rod Stewart: Rod Stewart
Boy George: Love is Leaving
Various Artists: Superhits, 1968
Janet: The Velvet Rope

Thursday, January 19, 2006

 

More into interior decorating than sex?


Wednesday, January 18, 2006

 

Homicide Investigation in Dreamland

Roll me over
In the covert.
Roll me over
Lay me down
And kill me again.

* * * * * * * * * *
"Did the vic wash down the apartment walls herself before she was killed?"

"And if she did, why? And why did she use a hose and her hands instead of....?"

"Why was the blue dye stain from her suit on the inside of her white turtleneck and on her skin and not on the outside of the turtleneck?"

"Maybe she started out not wearing the turtleneck or it was inside out?"

"No, her co-workers saw the stain on the inside, too, so if she’d turned it right side out, there was enough time for the outside to get stained, too."

"Why was the dye so unstable? It was all over her skin? Who could sell a suit like that?"

"What was with the big basket of newspapers at work?"

"Why did she take them out to the guy’s car half the load at a time? Why wouldn’t she let him help her? He parked close so she wouldn’t have to go so far."

"Hey, who let all those people in here?! Get them out of here!"

"You! Put down that dump truck! Everybody outta here!"

"Why’d that sand nigger try to steal the truck?"

"Dago."

"Nah, spic."

"Didn't ya see that greasy hook nose? Sand nigger."

"I don’t give a fuck what the guy is, I just want to know why he tried to steal the truck. Did the vic even have kids? I didn’t see anything else in here to indicate she did. Get him back in here."

"Don’t think he was stealing it. Think he brought it in with him."

"Huh? Then why’d he just put it down like that without protesting?"

"Uh, dunno?"

"Rob! Get the bomb squad over here! Evacuate the premises!"

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

 

WOY

I like it. http://www.americandialect.org/

 

What does one of my age do for excitement?

One waits and waits and waits for the candle jammed into the Chianti bottle on the dinner table to burn down to a stub and then the stub end to be sucked into the Chianti bottle with a !woosh! and then curses when one misses the terribly exciting moment. Damn!

Monday, January 16, 2006

 

Addendum to the Cell Phone Snit

I remember when a person used a public pay phone it was considered polite to turn away from others and speak as lowly as possible for two reasons: 1. To prevent others from hearing your private conversations. 2. To prevent your conversation from intruding on that of another. Now, no one seems to care whether or not strangers know the size and condition of their underwear or if their breaking up with their boyfriend seeps under and through Walkman earplugs connected to Nine Inch Nails wailing away.

 

The Weekend Menu

Saturday Dinner

Sunset Soup (carrot/pumpkin/curry)
Chicken quesadilla
Somebody’s zin
embarrassing childlike dessert–graham crackers with very old leftover lemon frosting

Sunday Breakfast

Sliced bananas and mandarin oranges
Soft boiled eggs
My famous, spectacular cinnamon rolls
"Little pig" sausages
Coffee

Sunday Dinner

Pecan/cheese sables
Sunset soup
Red curry shrimp
Jasmine rice
Celeriac/apple salad
Mondavi Chardonnay....still haven’t found a Mondavi wine that takes me away.
Blueberry crumble cake
Coffee

Sunday, January 15, 2006

 

I HATE

PEOPLE WHO USE THEIR CELL PHONES IN PUBLIC!!!!!

Saturday, January 14, 2006

 

Am I the only one who thinks (that)

the reason for the rejection of some words by Bookworm, eg "dildo," is silly.

the lawyers’ reasons for not executing this man border on the terminally inane?

Heronswood Nursery could make all my garden dreams come true if only I lived in the right biome?

it’s possible to be concerned for the welfare of someone you can’t abide when you see them making horrific decisions?

******************

Listening to:

Janis Ian: Hunger
Culture Club: The Best of
Rod Stewart: Blondes Have More Fun
Queen: The Miracle
Various Artists: Superhits, 1967
Nine Inch Nails: Pretty Hate Machine

 

Movie Review

Caligula

LOLEWWWWLOLEWWWWLOL*


(There must be a lot of people associated with this execration who just wish it would go away.)

Friday, January 13, 2006

 

What was for dinner?

Wild rice soup
Assorted Acme bread orts
Mixed greens from the garden salad

 

Bool Comment (not nearly deep enough to be called a review)

["Bool" ???What the hell is a bool??? Of course, it should be "book," but it's such a funny word, I'm going to leave it up there. *L*]

A couple of years ago I read Hedrick Smith’s The Russians (1976) and at present I am reading his 1991 work, The New Russians. They are both very insightful books, even though he says this in the introduction of the newer book:

"I did know some intellectuals who were desperate for a bit of fresh air, some room to breathe, for a modest "thaw" such as the one initiated by Khrushchev in the late 1950's. But it seemed to me that even a modest reform would be long in coming. Like others who had lived among the Russians, sent children to their schools, studied their history and their institutions, come to know their ways and their mentality, I left Russia sixteen years ago thinking that fundamental change was impossible. And I wrote that in my book The Russians.

"The Decline and Stagnation that sank into place for the next decade, into the mid-eighties, seemed to confirm this judgment. Soviet politics appeared as frozen as the Siberian tundra.

"As it turned out, of course, I was wrong."

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that there will be a third book on the subject by Smith. Granted, he is an outsider, but he did live in the country, with his family, for 7 (?) years and experienced at least as much as he was allowed to experience. And as a journalist, he had/has many sources not necessarily available to the usual outside observer. I would love to read his take on Gorbachev’s successors and his confession of having been wrong once again. The flaw in both books was his predicting what would happen in the future, but his reporting of what was happening at the time is fascinating.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

 

What's on the Bedside Table?

Ego Trip's Big Book of Racism

Listening to:


Queen: Sheer Heart Attack
Rod Stewart: Lead Vocalist
Boy George: U can never b2 straight
Beach Boys: 20 Good Vibrations, The Greatest Hits
Annie Lennox: Medusa
Pet Shop Boys: Nightlife

 

What's for Dinner?

Homemade pork/apple/sage/fennel sausage patties
Home fries
Mixed greens from the garden salad/honey mustard, sherry vinegar dressing

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

 

And too bad there weren't more like him--RIP

http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/01/06/obit.thompson.ap/

 

Too bad the numbers aren't larger.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/worldlatest/story/0,,-5535179,00.html

 

Quotations

"How nice to do nothing, then rest afterward."–anonymous sleep-T slogan writer

"You cannot solve ideological issues with the help of tanks."–Yuri Levada

"We live, deaf to the land beneath us,
Ten steps away no one hears our speeches,
All we hear is the Kremlin mountaineer,
The murderer and peasant-slayer.
His fingers are fat as grubs
And the words, final as lead weights, fall from his lips,
His cockroach whiskers leer
And his boot tops gleam.
Around him a rabble of thin-necked leaders -fawning half-men for him to play with.
The whinny, purr or whine
As he prates and points a finger,
One by one forging his laws, to be flung
Like horseshoes at the head, to the eye or the groin.
And every killing is a treat
For the broad-chested Ossete."–Osip Mandelstam

"My little beet monkey; my little beet monkey."–me, in a dream

*************

Listening to:

Nine Inch Nails: The Fragile, Left
Creedence Clearwater Revivial: Chronicle
Jonny Lang: Lie to Me
Various Artists: Stand by Me, Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
Moby: Play
Various Artists: Stone Free, A tribute to Jimi Hendrix

Sunday, January 08, 2006

 

What’s for breakfast/dinner?

Breakfast:

scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese
sliced bananas and mandarin oranges
sourdough rye toast with nectarine/apricot jam
coffee

Dinner:

Stuffed mushrooms
Christian Bros. dry sherry

waldorf salad
broccoli with kalamata olives, garlic, and lemon
mashed potato pancakes
broiled lamb chops
Coppola claret

mandarin orange caramels
brie
sliced pears.
Concannon pinot noir

Saturday, January 07, 2006

 

Two (in which my mind wanders like a man lost in the Warner Wilderness without a National Forest Service map)

If I were forced to cancel all but two of my magazine subscriptions, there were be no difficult choice. The first I would keep would be the National Geographic. There is no magazine on the stands that can stimulate both my sense of beauty and my intellect and emotions as deeply as the NG. The last time I was on public transportation, I brought a copy of the NG to read while at the same time I listened to NIN’s first real album, "Pretty Hate Machine." Reznor and company do not label their CD’s with the names of the albums, but instead call them "halo #- whatever number they are at now." I do have a list of the halos, but my brain can’t make the connection between the album names and the numbers. I think it’s the number part that frustrates me. I never was a math wiz, which is why I wound up dropping college algebra half way through the first semester. Also, the nazi (note the small n, though the man was indeed German) who taught it nearly brought me to tears, not for failing to understand the concept, but for failing in accuracy. I was also nearly brought to tears by the story I read that day in the NG about the failure of relief aid for disaster victims. Pledges from many countries have not been met for financial aid for those in the areas devastated by the tsunami. Surprisingly, both the UK and Germany are far ahead of their promises for tsunami relief, while, not surprisingly, the US is far behind in actually committing the funds promised. The US funds, naturally, are going for an entirely different project. (Here’s a familiar trail I’ve been down too many times. I’ll not fall for it’s lure again--for now, anyway) And it will not be all that long before we forget we had any obligation at all. We will forget Indonesia as we have forgotten so many of the other "under developed" areas of conflict, such as Uganda. I once had an acquaintance who had spent several years in Uganda, post Amin. I call her an acquaintance, not a friend, because she played the accordion, and I admit to a certain level of prejudice against bigots and accordian players. It’s not as if I ever heard her play. But I was, at one point in my life, subjected to Myron Florin on a regular basis and that was enough to last me through more than one life. Lawrence Welk always seemed to be a jolly, retarded child, but I suspect he was more of a conniving tyrant. I bet he had more in common with Amin (does human flesh really taste "sweet" as he claimed?) than all those lol adoring fans could conceive of. Whenever I inadvertantly surf into a Welk rerun on PBS, I quicky hie myself out of that box. I wonder if my young acquaintance hangs on every Florionid note. I’ve completely lost contact with with the woman. The last time I saw her, she was headed for...Indonesia. That was back in the days of political upheaval, but pre-tsunami. I hope she changed her mind about going, though someone who delighted in her time in Uganda, probably wouldn’t be put off by a little thing like an incipient war. I have no idea what part of Uganda she’d been in or if she ever had any contact there with the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army), which I first read about in my other favorite magazine, Harper’s. Harper’s–where else can I read laugh-out-loud snippet articles about human foibles; articles on politics I can agree with; reviews of books that don’t stagnify my mind ( contrary to the Evanovich books I’m addicted to); and much more, including art, though the art accompanying the articles is forced–made to fit the mood, unlike the photographic art in NG. Of course, I have at least one friend who would disagree with me about photography being art and I still have the exchange of emails to prove it. Why can’t I just delete all those way-too-many emails? It must be a case of OOCD (Online Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Or is the "D" Disease?). I guess it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m making up a condition, I can name it any damned thing I want! Harper’s was the first place I read about the condition called Asperger’s Syndrome and the fellow who was fixated on the NYC trains to the point that he would pose as a worker and actually take control of them. Imagine riding home from work and not even realizing a stranger had virtually kidnapped you! Too bad that the children that the LRA storms in and kidnap in the middle of the night don’t suffer that same unaware fate. I’d say that their kidnappers are nothing short of inhuman, except that the older I get, the more I realize the capacity for inhumanity we humans have. One of the most memorable pictures of inhumanity I’ve ever seen was in the NG–a sewer worker in India, of the Untouchable class,without any protective gear, rising up out of the manhole, covered with what no human should ever be covered with. The first memorable layout of pictures, for me, in the same magazine, aside from those in the bound volumes my father kept, was of the Olympic National Park in Washington state. The pictures were so lovely and I was so young that I never considered why they were so lovely–the nearly constant chilling rain that created the forest. No less chilling than that rain was the Harper’s interview with one of Daniel Pearl’s eventual kidnappers (published before the event took place!) about his bumbling previous attempts. And how, I ask, when I had never read the RL Stevenson story, did I immediately recognize that it was a production of "Kidnapped" on the PBS station that I’d surfed into? Damned if I....Oh, look! There’s a ranger station straight ahead! WhoooHoooo!

Friday, January 06, 2006

 

Am I the only one who thinks (that)

anyone who uses the talents of a prostitute should be called a "buy sexual?"

there should be more Saturnalia cards?

the issue of Harper’s with the religion and gun nut articles was a little peculiar?

she is not your usual politician?

coal miners are damned if the mines are kept open and damned if they are closed?

**************

Listening to:

Nine Inch Nails: Things Falling Apart
Rod Stewart: The Ballad Album
Culture Club: 12" Mixes Plus
Cat Stevens: The Very Best of Cat Stevens
Queen: Live at Wembley ‘86, disc#1
Various Artists: Two Rooms, Celebrating the Songs of Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Thursday, January 05, 2006

 

What's for Dinner?

Ham, carrot, and hoppin’john soup
Acme Bakery olive bread
Mandarin orange, fennel seed, and goat cheese salad.
Fetzer zin
Fruitcake
Coffee

 

From "The New Russians" by Hedrick Smith

"In 1989, a Soveit philosopher told me a bit of folk wisdom. According to an anecdote then making the rounds n Moscow, he said, the Soviet state oscillates between bald leaders and hairy ones–between reformers and conservative tyrants. He ticked off the pairs: Lenin, the bald revolutionary, was followed by Stalin, the tyrant with thick, bristling brush-cut hair and menacing mustache. Nikita Khrushchev, the peasant reformer, who was bald as a potato, gave way to Brezhnev, the conservative, whose bushy eyebrows and headful of hair were parodied by cartoonists in the East and West. Yuri Andropov, a wispy-haired puritan bent on modernism and efficiency, was succeeded by Konstantin Chernenko, a defender of the Old Guard, who even in senility had an abundant head of white hair. So it was only natural that Gorbachev, whose birthmark gleams from a naked pate, should usher in a new era of radical reform. And of course, the philospher said, smiling, nervous liberals were already beginning to speculate about what hairy hard-liner would succeed Gorbachv."



Wednesday, January 04, 2006

 

lost and FOUND

lost: jeans
FOUND: ONE PAIR OF PUDDLE SOAKED, EMPTY POCKETED, WHOLLY NO HOLED, HOLY-GO-TO-MEETIN’S!

lost: stick
FOUND: ONE HOPPPIN’, GIGGLIN’, mini-XY’s, SUPRISED-TO-BE-HERE FU MAN CHU!

lost: mind
found: never

 

TV Quiz

Why wasn’t it "The Captain’s Island?"
Did he really love Lucy?
Why did Clint Walker and James Garner have to get old?
Was Mr. Rogers the neighborhood child molester?

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

 

*sigh*


http://lists.village.virginia.edu/sixties/HTML_docs/Exhibits/Track16.html

***************

Listening to:

The Kingston Trio: Absolutely the Best of the Kingston Trio
Nine Inch Nails: The Fragile, Right
Boy George: The Martyr Mantras
Savage Garden: Affirmation
Various Artists: Lost Highway
Various Artists: Superhits, 1964

Monday, January 02, 2006

 

Good Riddance

to him and him.

 

Am I the only one who thinks (#3)

1. that if "imbibe" is a word, why isn’t "bibe" something more than an acronym?

2. that this is sad and scary? http://www.democratandchronicle.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051231/NEWS01/512310320/1002/NEWS

3. that there is no reason why a painting cannot extend over the edges and around to the back of a canvas?

4. that "George Bush" is a collective noun?

5. that it would be impolite to tell someone they remind you of Don Knotts?

****************

Listening to:

Julee Cruise: Floating into the Night
Cyndi Lauper: hat full of stars
The Peter Malick Group featuring Norah Jones: New York City
George Michael and Queen with Lisa Stansfield: Five Live
Jimi Hendrix: Rainbow Bridge
Paul Simon: The Paul Simon Collection, On My Way, Don’t Know Where I’m Goin’, disc #2

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