Yucky Salad with Bones

Feb 28 '07

Sitting here drinking a glass of wine all by my lonesome. Why am I acting like an isolated alcoholic, you ask? I almost cut my thumb off making dinner, that's why. I was chopping up an onion to put in the black beans and rice and whammo, I'm dancing around my kitchen yelping like a dog that just got whipped.

Mother!!!!

It throbs, I tell you, it throbs. I quickly warpped it up, I don't think I need stitches and it doesn't matter anyway, I'm not getting them. It's just a thumb, right? Who cares if it has a scar. Do we even need thumbs? Or is that livers? What do we not need?

I feel woozy. So I wrapped it up, got dinner finished and as I was cleaning off the counter I noticed my blood was everywhere. Splats of it were everywhere, it looked like a crime scene in here. Wipe that up, go to stir the rice, what is that little dome shaped piece in the rice? Is that thumb??

False alarm; carrot. Came off the spoon. But no way did some blood not get in the food. It got everywhere else. I don't care. I'm half in the bag.

Boys were waaaaaay better on Idol last night; I'm starting to love teh beat box guy really bad. Hate the Justin Timberlake guy, like the fat Richard Simmons guy again, liked Sundance but he wasn't as good as the judges said he was. Like the queeny Latino, he's fun. The little teengaer kid, ouch. Brutal. Um, everyone else, whatever. But I think the beat box guy and fat Richard Simmons are the only two who can compete with the girls.

Feb 27 '07

Meggie's vocal concert last night. All the kids had to split into small groups and sing songs from Disney movies; they all did spectacularly! I was so impressed, I couldn't stand up in front of a crowd and sing with only one or two other poeple without a martini or two in me.

Tucking Finny into bed later on last night, we played one of his favorite games, "Who'd win in a fight?" We decided a bear would beat a bull, a tiger would beat a saber-toothed cougar and a lion would beat a tiger, but we got stuck on who would win between a lion and a shark. That's a tough one; it all depends on where the fight is and whether or not the shark can swim on land or the lion can breathe and run around under water. Those conversations with him remind me of the line from Finding Neverland: "Little boys should never go to bed; they always wake up one day older."

In today's paper, an article on email sign-off ettiquette in the workplace. Do people really need to be instructed in this regard, to keep things nuetral and professional? I find that hard to believe. Has this ever really happened?

Dear Boss,

I think I deserve a raise because I do way more work than Chuck does, and he makes more than I do.

All the love in the world,

Bob

I think not.

Feb 26 '07

The absolute dullest Oscars ever. EVER.

Holy guacamole, it was 3 hours in before anything happened. Bad pacing, too many montages, too much Italian, way too many circue de soleil goofballs making shadow puppets. I fell asleep twice and for the first time in my Oscar watching history, actually considered going to bed early. When Al Gore is the most entertaining person at the Oscars, you've got trouble. God Bless Ellen, I adore her, but that bloated behemoth of a show just ate her up.

As for Alan Arkin beating Eddie Murphy, well my baloney has a first name, it's O-s-c-a-r. And why, why didn't they let Jennifer Hudson talk longer?? They had time for the shadow puppets and 50 zillion montages about NOTHING but not her, a first time winner/America's new sweetheart??

The only saving grace was listening to Mike shred the show. He is never funnier than when he is irate, and nothing makes him more mad than bad TV. "Who will win the coveted, 'last slot in the dead guy parade'?" Was his best line.

Sorry, I can't even muster the energy or enthusiasm to write anymore. It was a washout. Let's leave it at that.

The following is from Kenny, I completely agree, except that Reese has always had a pointy chin and I thought she looked gorgeous:

- Thank god Jennifer took her Batgirl wings off before the show started.
- Every montage was pointless and tiresome. We just kept wondering who the dead person was they were paying tribute to.
- Reese looked like she got a chin implant.
- The only thing more awkward than the allnight Al Gore ass-kiss was the kiss Tipper planted on him a few years back.
- Beyonce will probably need to go on three months of vocal rest after trying to prove to the world she is as good as Jennifer.
- Did Melissa Etheridge really get an award for changing the words to her song again?
- Ellen rocks, but so did Jon Stewart.
- I didn't realize that The Queen was about Princess Di.

- Cars was robbed.

Feb 25 '07

Happy Oscars day!!

It's 5:30, I'm in my jammies, some Big Bowl take out is in my future, my cell phone is charged up for emergency calls to whomever will appreciate whatever Oscar-related thought pops into my head at any given moment throughout the evening and Ryan Seacrest is on my TV. Could anyone be happier than I am right now??

So I'll do little live-blogging (live blogging! God Bless the modern age and it's crazy, ever expanding vernacular!) during the pre-show, but I hate to do it during the actual telecast because then I miss half the show.

What have we got so far, you ask? Well Maggie Gyllenhall, brother to Jake and mistress to Peter Sarsgaard (whom I've always found strangely attractive, even though he sort of has man-hips) looks fabulous. And she just said something genuinley genuine, she said she's nervous to present because "I've watched the Oscars before, and just taken people apart." A for honesty.

OH THANK YOU JENNIFER HUDSON FOR WEARING THAT!! I'm so sick of actresses playing it safe and she's wearing a tin-foil shawl! It's gold tin-foil, too, like the kind that a Honey Baked Ham comes in!! Yeah baby, you are a golden sparkly star you just go and wear your freaky tin foil dress!!

Woof...wha t is JLo doing!!! She looks matronly, she's wearing some sort of terrible wig that looks like it got lost looking for 1963 and a maternity toga. Shriek-a- deek-ding-dong. OK, Margy just called, and I asked her if, by wearing a maternity dress, JLo was trying to tell us something.

"Yeah, 'I'm fat and I have no taste. Check out my creepy, creepy husband, he's yin to my yang...I'm sugary sweet and he's disgusting,'" she replied.

Jodie Foster looks nice, very classy. Whoopsie, she just said if Martin Scorsese didn't win, she'd "eat someone's hat". Um...officially file that one under "Too Easy".

Kelly Preston wins the Virginia Madsen Award for looking like she let the owner of a biker bar dress her; she's wearing a trashy leopard print skeez dress that looks like something you'd find on clearance in the Speigal's catalog, or as Margy said, "Not even from Frederick's of Hollywood, from the super-sleazy store next to it." Wow, Margy's on fire tonight.

Jackie Earl Haley, awww....so endearing. He seems normal, and friendly and sweet and his wife looks like a regular Jane, pretty and scared. He just said he's a big American Idol fan! Love him.

What is that goofball announcer wearing around his neck? Some sort of homemade necktie with a swizzle stick stuck in it. Huh. Dunno 'bout that, where does he get off criticizing what anyone else is wearing? And yes, I did just call the kettle Virginia Madsen.

Yuck! Jessica Beil's dress would be OK if she didn't put her lawyer's black belt around it, and she's got that "whoops, my spiral rollers didn't turn out as expected, better pull it back" hair. Cameron Diaz is wearing a cool dress, but her hair and earring are way too casual.

Penelope Cruz looks beautiful. PERFECT. Couture, hair, subtle jewelry, Perfection.

Helen Mirren, gorgeous. I love it. Sexy but age appropriate. Leo...grrrrrrrr!!!!!! Yummy nummy!

Cate Blanchette's dress is so COOL!! Very edgy , very, very cool. I predict it'll make waves like Nicole's fur-lined chartreuse number did years ago.

Ooh, Borat's little gal, what's her name again? CUTE!! great dress, perfect color. WHOA, Kirsten Dunst! Did she just get done working out?? Blech. Gwynnie looks like she's wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt. Is having her hair over one shoulder part of her outfit?

Beyonce, sigh. You're the prettiest girl on the planet and you have the ugliest closet full of gowns. There, I said it. Nicole K, Charlize Theron already did that last year. Although I do like the color.

HHHHhhhhhhhuuuuuuhhhhHHHHHHHHH (that was a gasp, a quick intake of breath.) Omigarsh, Rachel Weitz looks divine. DIVINE. She's come a long way, baby...that might be the prettiest dress of all time, people, somewhere in costume design heaven Edith Head is jealous.

Gotta make hash browns. Catch you later.

Feb 23 0r 4, I don't know.

Can we talk Idol, please? As in American Idol, as in I was seriously worried I was gonna bum out completely at this year's crop o' crap. All through the audition process, I never felt like there was anyone I just loooooooved. By Hollywood week last year, I'd already pegged Taylor as the winner and Chris, Katherine, Elliot and Paris were totally on my radar.

Then after boys night, Oooooooooooooh fer the love all things, what a disaster that was. Honestly, the only guy who didn't make me want to climb through the TV and choke him was the beat box guy, on the grounds he at least seemed somewhat original and had a personality. The fat goof with the hair who though he was so funny? He went from amusing to annoying in an instant with his whole "I've got a wisecrack for everything" schtick. Wisecrack your way right back to podunk, loser.

As for the rest of them, hear me know and listen to me later: STOP WITH THE BOY BAND HANDS. You know who you are and you know what I mean, "boy band hands" are like jazz hands for the modern day hack. All the breast beating and head cocking with your dumb fingers splayed flat in the world don't cover up the fact that YOU CAN'T SING, which is why people who actually can sing DON'T DO IT.

I went to bed mighty discouraged, folks. To have to sit by adn watch a great institution lik AI go this way, why it breaks my heart, it does.

But girl night redeemed my faith. Make no mistake, it's gonna be the Battle of the Black Girls this year and LaKisha Jones will (and should) win, but there are 3 or 4 others that are going to be a treat to watch. The rule that there has to be 6 boys and 6 girls is ludacris. There are 8 good girls and one good boy.

February 20 '07, Billy-Style:

(editor's note: I wrote a column on this very subject matter yesterday, only not as well. Except I would never kiss Keith Olbermann's ass like that -k )

Anybody having fun yet? Of course not, it's February. There's a reason February is the shortest month-- it sucks. I hate February. Oh wait, I'm not supposed to hate anything, am I? If we've all learned anything from the Tim Hardaway fiasco, it's that hate in any form is bad, bad, bad. (And there is no truth to the rumor that Republican officials have sent out feelers to Hardaway about running for a lower office). Whatever, I hate February. What's to like?

Snow piles that were charming and "Christmasey" in December are now just annoying and ugly. All the crap you ate over the holidays has completely turned into fat, which has everyone fasting and grumpy. And of course, Valentine's Day-- what guy doesn't just love Valentine's Day?

Her: "Do you love me?" (she's thinking, "I love Valentine's Day, I get to ask that question and not get yelled at).
Him: "Huh? Oh... um... yeah. Hey, here, I got you something" (on his way over, or if he's really sensitive, the day before).
She's thinking: "This present sucks! I knew he didn't love me, which is fine, damn all my friends knew it-- he's just not right for me."

He's thinking: "Valentine's Day sucks! Look at her, yeah, I knew you'd love chocolates, fatty fat-fat."

And as far as sports go... please. I'm supposed to get jacked up for the Pro Bowl, the NBA All-Star game, Daytona or bracket busters? Wrong.

But, I have to say, even though February battles March each year for the 11th and 12th spot in the month rankings, this year's version has been pretty awesome. It seems the entire planet is in the grips of the February blahs and has lost it's collective mind. We've had more celebrity melt-downs than ever before and you can't tell me it's not February's fault.

February has brought back American Idol, and TV's best train wreck, Paula Abdul. She kicked the month off by adamantly saying she's never been drunk in her life-- in response to her kooky appearance on some live satellite interview with a television station. Hey Paula, whatever you're drinking, inhaling, popping, DO NOT stop! The only reason you're entertaining at all is because you're nuts.

We don't know if you're going to laugh, cry, pass out, dance, have eye-sex with an 18-year old performer, punch Simon or give him a lap dance. You are the absolute wild-card-- the kind of chick that makes going out on Friday night so much fun for guys. You're the girl we all want to talk to three beers into the night-- hot, goofy and unpredictable. Of course, you're also the girl about whom Martin Zellar wrote the bang-on lyrics: "Well I woke up this morning with my face to the wall and I said a real quick prayer. Oh please, dear God, when I turn around, let her not be lying there."

Paula's a lunatic, and I love her for it. Let's see, she's hot and rich yet always whines about being single. Do the math. X + Y= Bonkers.

Paula also had one of my favorite quotes in a month that's been chock-full of them. In her denial of being tipsy during her satellite TV interview Paula laid down the following gem: "I've never been drunk. I have never done recreational drugs. Just look at my 20-year career. Tell me someone who is into partying or doing drugs that could have done that."

Um... excuse me??? Okay Paula, let me try to think of somebody who's been in the music business for 20 years who's been into partying or done drugs. Hmmmm.... dammit, she's right, I got nothing! Rock on Paula, but don't you dare force me to watch an episode of Idol where you haven't downed a few cups of crazy beforehand.

Speaking of cups of crazy in the music world, here's another February melt-down that I've really enjoyed: Brit bizarro-music-freak Robbie Williams checked himself into a rehab clinic in Arizona because he's hooked on anti-depressants. Anti-depressants-- big deal, right? Well, he also claims he's been tossing back between TWENTY FIVE AND THIRTY double espressos and Red Bulls a day! That is outstanding!

So THAT'S how techno music gets made! Can you imagine this guy in the studio?

"More bass, more bass...morebassmorebassMOREBASSMOREBASS, less drums, moredrumsMOREDRUMS....AAAHHHH... turn it up!!! More bass TURN IT UP TURN IT UP!!!!!

Keith Olbermann, (a genius, semi-loony himself) had a phenomenal line on this story: "So Williams has checked into a re-hab center in Arizona...... his heart, however, was last seen lifting weights somewhere in Kansas".

Also weighing in on Robbie's re-hab announcement was the always reliable for some excellent mud-slinging, Liam Gallagher of Oasis. Liam always gets pissed when any other English musician gets in the news for anything-- and he didn't disappoint when commenting on this latest news:

"What's his fu*king problem man? We all know what it is-- he's a fu*king drama queen. If you've got a problem, why do you want the whole world knowing about it? He has to be on the front fu*king pages, doesn't he? Just sort yourself out. You make a fu*king crap album then want everyone to feel fu*king sorry for you. Fu*king tosser!"

Is that any good? Pure genius is what it is.

"Liam, what do you think of Robbie Williams going to re-hab?"
"His album is crap and he's a complete tosser!"

That's the kind of compassion that only comes about in February my friends.

And lastly, of course, we have Britney. As I type this a wire has crossed that she's finally checked into re-hab. No word on whether or not it's the same facility her panties checked into three months ago.

Who would have thought that K-Fed would look like the saner one a few months after the divorce? I'm sure when she was in the lobby of whatever help-center she's at, she flipped through the new US magazine that has a huge photo of Justin and K-Fed man-clasping and sharing an obvious chuckle at her expense. Poor girl. Bald, fat, drunk and underwear-less is no way to go through life. Although it may not be a bad way to go through February.

Five songs to download this week:
"Rockin' Chair" and "Little By Little"-- Oasis (they get two songs for that quote)
"Are You Alright?"-- Lucinda Williams
"Penny On The Train Track"-- Ben Kweller
"Colossal"-- Wolfmother
"Bruised"-- The Bens (Folds, Kweller and Lee)

February 20 '07

So sitting here with Mike, who is, by the way, on a 4-day cleansing fast, and watching/listening to him is getting curiouser and curiouser. It's been 48 hours since he's had anything more substantial than an ice cube, and he is starting to hallucinate. I was just asking him to proof read an article I wrote, and he said, "The thing is, it's hard to remember sometimes to take things out of the freezer."

Um...what?

"Frozen meats, a nice steak, a piece of fish, some chicken, I love a freezer full of meat."

I just want the record to show this fast was not my idea. He also took me to task for being such a slob, but I've been sitting here writing all day, what does he want me to wear, a prom dress? And anyway why is he all dressed up? Mr. jeans and rugby shirt...if the pants have a zipper and the shirt doesn't have writing on it, it's dressed up. Is too.

February 18 '07

I actually think Brit looks better this way. Who hasn't been tempted to do this in mid-February, the time of year where good hair goes to die? Look around, folks, north of everyone's eyebrows ain't pretty right now. The hair is either trying it's darndest to get as faaaaaaarrrrr away from the head as it possibly can, or clinging to it like Anna Nicole's lawyer to a weak alibi.

Take it from me, Ms. Spears, you may think you did this because you simply ran out of body parts to shave, but this is the best decision you've made in years.

Grease Academy is so rigged. We get to vote whose in the bottom four, but the judges ultimately decide. I say they hired Austin for the gig before the show even started, which is fine, whatever, he's clearly the best, even though I adore cutey pie Max Crumm.

February 14 '07

I'm walking into the gym today and as I open the door, a group of people is just about to walk out. So I hold the door for them. And for the people who are right behind them, because once you're the designated door hold-opener, that's what you do, right? And the holdees smile and say thanks and you smile back and say "No problem", or maybe crack some dumb generic joke if you can think of one, whatever.

But then there's another person about ten feet from the door, and it's obvious they're headed out, because they have their coat on and their keys out and are walking with the confident stride of a person who just had a good 45 minute to hour long workout and feels really good about the fact that later on tonight, they're going to take their sweetie out for a big fat meal and have multiple glasses of wine and some sort of decadent dessert.

My question is, am I obligated to continue holding the door for them, too? If I see them and have made eye contact, do I have to stand there even though it's gonna take them another few seconds to get over to the door? And the pressure goes both ways; if they see me standing there holding the door ten or fifteen feet away, they now feel like they have to hustle up but maybe they pulled a hammy and can't or were planning to get a drink from the fountain, not a quick drink either, the long long kind where you sort of wonder why they didn't just buy a water bottle.

Not that I ever do, mind you. I have a hard time paying for something that's already free, and while I have a zillion plastic water bottles at home, I always forget to fill them and pack them in my gym bag. The worst is when the drinking fountain's stream only comes out in a dribble so your choices are to go thirsty or basically french everyone who took a drink before you.

Once I was behind a guy in line who was slurping for a while, right? Like so long I thought maybe he was diabetic or something. And when it was my turn, sure enough the stream was really just a trickle, and the thought of trying to drink from it totally grossed me out but the guy was still standing right there, stretching. I thought it would be rude to not take a drink with him there, watching me out of the corner of his eye; like me walking away drinkless would've been tantamount to turning to him and saying "The thought of getting any of your goony germs on my lips repulses me".

He probably wasn't paying any attention to me at all, truth be told, but I latched onto that thing and made sweet mouth love to it because I didn't want to hurt some perfect strangers feelings. And now I get cold sores every second Thursday. Not really, but still. That memory never fails to give me the willies.

I put in my Bobby Darin CD to listen to in the car, and the first song is "Rain on My Parade". A classic; and I realized it's totally Molly's theme song. My friends Liz and Mel and I love to play "What's your theme music", meaning what's the soundtrack playing in your head when you're just going about your daily business or what song would you want blasting as you walk throught whatever fictional glass double doors in whatever fictional personal scenario you've cooked up in your overly melodramatic psyche? Maybe normal people don't play this game, but I love it.

Don't tell me not to fly
I've simply got to
If someone takes a spill
It's me and not you
Don't bring around the cloud to rain on my parade

Don't tell me not to leave
Just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?

Perfect. So I brought it inside and put it on, and she came bounding into the kitchen wearing an orange feather boa and my red heel and did jazz hands all over the kitchen.

February 13 '07

It's been pointed out to me that I got the names of Sting's backup dancers all wrong, that Stuart Townsend is the name of Charlize Theron's boyfriend and no one knows who Andrew Copeland is, he might've been the guy from Wham or he might've been the guy who killed Gianni Versace or he might be no one at all.

Yes. My point exactly. Teenage Wasteland.

February 11 '07

Watching the Grammys out of half of one eye, and really only during the commercials of whatever else is on. It's the only awards show I don't care much about, and Prince's performance during Superbowl halftime last week was better than anything the Grammys will offer, I'm quite certain. (Speaking of that, where does that silly little pip-squeak Justin Timberlake get off dissing Prince? And what is with this weird 'Blair Witch Project' thing he's doing with the camera? OK, Mike is flipping between this, Grease and the T-wolves/Celtics game, and all those things combined have caused Molly to call JT "Boston Timberlakes". Herewith I command he be called that forevermore.)

The Police reuniting actually makes me sort of sick to my stomach. I'm just soooo tired of old fart bands getting back together because they didn't plan well enough for their golden years. And it's not like Sting hasn't been performing those songs all through his solo career anyway, do they really sound any better or even different with the help of Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers instead of Joe Blow and whoever else tours with Sting? I'm probably gonna get a flood of angry emails about this but it can't be helped.

OK, Carrie Underwood is performing now, she is just gorgeous and she sounds great. I take it back, Carrie, you deserved to win. Bo Bice who?

Rascal Flats...I admit it, they're a guilty pleasure, hey, maybe not even that guilty. No, scratch that, I feel guilty about it. Terribly, terribly guitly...hey, I saw Dreamgirls again and feel I must resurrect this dead horse and beat it some more, but damn it it shoulda been nominated for best picture. I loved it even more the second time, I could just sit there and let the emotion wash over me...I cry racism. That's right, I'm playing the black card. Me. Hey George Clooney, where are you when it really matters? Mr. "We gave Hattie McDaniel an Oscar and cured AIDS at the same time", been pretty quiet about this injustice!

On to Grease...the cream is definitely separating from the chaff. What is chaff, anyway? I keep forcing the kids to watch YouTube clips of Sutton Foster so they can see how good you have to be to stand out on the great white way. Well, you either have to be really really good or at least have spent a season on The Surreal Life, and then you get to play Rizzo or Roxie Hart.

February 5, '07

He wasn't done yet...

Whoops, that last post was about sports wasn't it? Sorry, I'll try to avoid those as much as possible. It's not really my fault though, you see I woke up today to a world that I'd been led to believe would be dramatically different. After reading and watching countless stories over the past two weeks about there finally being not one but TWO black men coaching in the Super Bowl, I thought the planet had reached some sort of tipping point, and that sanity and fairness would wash over and warm us all like an extra winter blanket.

Clues that we were getting our collective grip were popping up all over the place: Scrubs put the war in better perspective than Time, Newsweek and the President combined, a new Shins album came out (weren't they supposed to change all our lives?), a week of parties in South Beach that combined athletes and celebs at galas put on by the likes of Maxim, Playboy and Penthouse produced ZERO high profile arrests! I expected to be awakened by little yellow, cartoon birds singing outside my window and Rachel McAdams (or Heather, or you know who you are) putting the finishing touches on my bacon and eggs in the kitchen.

Yeah, not so much actually.

Instead I wake to find that not only has Belinda Carlisle released a new album entirely in French, but that love can even cause astronauts to go crazy. I'm talking bat-shit crazy. When Ann Heche and Lindsey Lohan are chuckling when they read how crazy you are, you are crazy with a capital C. Do you remember that woman in North Carolina who put her kids in the car and then pushed it into a lake, drowning the kids, in an effort to make her boyfriend like her more? She's sitting in her cell reading about this woman and thinking, "wow, this chick is nuts". Or the hot/kooky (but hot enough that every guy in America immediately forgave her) teacher that slept with her 13 year old student and ruined her life?

Point is, love has been making people do crazy things since the first time Adam asked Eve if she had gained a little weight. But wearing a diaper for 900 miles to avoid bathroom breaks???? Let me cut right to the chase here, if wearing a diaper is ever a part of your plan to win over your crush, it means you've swerved way off track. (Stop it JP, it does to.)

I mean, c'mon! If this was just another hillbilly from North Carolina, or a confused, unloved teacher, or even a young, divorced, pantiless pop-star, we could all just shake our heads and snicker. Lisa Nowak is a married mother of three who just so happens to also be a Navy Captain and a NASA Astronaut! Astronauts just don't do this. Astronauts study math and think brilliant thoughts and say witty things to Tom Hanks even when it appears they are doomed. They don't wake up one day and think, "hmm, that whore is meeting him in Orlando, so if I just jump in the car real quick and drive a quick 900 miles over there, I can cut her off at the pass and Billy-O will love me forever! I should probably wear a diaper so I don't have stop for bathroom breaks, yeah that's brilliant!" Woman, if your trip checklist includes: a wig, a trench coat, diapers, pepper-spray and a BB gun, for heaven's sake, stop and think for a minute! This (all together now) ISN'T ROCKET SCIENCE!!!!!

You'd think that over the course of a 900 mile drive an ASTRONAUT might come to her senses. Like maybe a few minutes after she'd peed into her diaper? When she could feel the urine swish from side to side as she drove, you'd hope there would be a moment of clarity, no? "Hmm, I'm an astronaut... I don't think this is that normal." Do you think she had the wig on the entire drive?

I guess it just goes to show you how fragile ALL human beings are-- especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

I miss the earth so much, I miss my wife

It's lonely out in space

On such a timeless flight

And I think it's gonna be a long long time

Till touch down brings me round again to find

I'm not the man they think I am at home

Oh no, no, no I'm a rocket man

Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

So, no, the world hasn't reached a place where sanity and fairness will carry the day. It never has and it never will. There will be no cartoon birds singing outside my window. Even the smartest of us here on earth will prove to be human and vulnerable after all. To quote The Weepies, "And the world spins madly on."

Five songs to download this week:

The World Spins Madly On-- The Weepies

Lately-- Soul Asylum

Different Drum-- Susanna Hoffs and Matthew Sweet

One Of Us Is Gonna Die Young-- The Ark

Citrus-- The Hold Steady

From Bill:

Let's talk silly syllogisms.
Okay, if I read that sentence, I'd quickly say "let's not" and move on. Sorry, I couldn't help it. I realize that you're just trying to plow through a blog and probably hate seeing words like "syllogism". That's good, I want you hating right now.
A syllogism is a logical argument in which the conclusion is inferred from two premises. Which brings us to a sports argument currrently raging that makes me want to poke my eyeballs out, or write things like, "let's talk silly syllogisms".
Steve Nash is this year's NBA MVP. Sure, there's a long way to go, but it's not even close at this point. This is a Tiger Woods at Pebble Beach lead.
It's the arguments against Nash winning his third straight MVP that have me pounding my head against the wall.
"You can't give him a third straight MVP, because the only guys who have done that are Bird, Wilt and Russell!" Um, yeah? That argument is like saying "Crash" can't win best picture because "Citizen Kane" or "Saving Private Ryan" never did. Nash doesn't have to be better than Jordan or Magic to win the award this year-- he has to be better than Dirk and LeBron. And he is. The argument for Nash as MVP gets really complicated when the "is he a better player than Dirk or LeBron?" question gets asked. He can't score like they can, but he certainly makes his team better than they do. Kobe still holds a slight lead over LeBron and D-Wade as "best player", but none of their individual talents make them as valuable as what Nash brings to the Suns. One guy making eight really good guys way better is more valuable than tossing in 40 points whenever you want-- 40 points isn't going to win you a lot of games outside the Ivy League.
The other ridiculous argument is, "He's never won a championship, how can he possibly be a three-time MVP?"
Barry Bonds anyone? MVP is a regular season award. They also give an MVP award to somebody after the NBA Finals. Nash hasn't won that yet. (I'm betting that changes this June).
Look, I'm with everyone on how it's a little bizarre that in the time it takes Leandro Barbosa to run the break, Nash has gone from "one of the better point guards in the league" to an all-time great. If he was a baseball player we'd just roll our eyes and wonder if his heart was going to explode at age 49 or 50. But it looks like Nash has made this ascension through hard work, basketball maturity, and the perfect system to match up with his unique skill-set.
You can make an argument that Shaq deserved to win the MVP in 2005 (although I wanted to award Nash the MVP immediately following his header to Amare in the dunk contest). You can make a less convincing argument that LeBron deserved the MVP last year. Who are you possibly going to argue is more valuable than Nash this year?
Now having said that, "Little Miss Sunshine" can't possibly win best picture this year, can it? I mean, c'mon, "Shawshank Redemption" and "The Wizard of Oz" never even won!

Feb 2 '07

From Thebrushback.com:

Poll: Mac Guy, PC Guy Both Need Cock Punch

LOS ANGELES--According to a recent poll conducted by Arbitron Media Research, 73 percent of Americans think the “Mac guy” and the “PC guy” from the popular Apple TV ads, both need of a cock punch. The poll also suggested that most viewers didn’t know which character is supposed to be likeable and which is supposed to be the asshole.
“According to our research, most people in America would like to deliver a savage beating to both of these supposed ‘opposite’ characters,” said Alex Freemont, a researcher at Arbitron. “Most feel that the PC Guy is a hopeless dork and the Mac Guy is a smug hopeless dork, and that they could both benefit from a nice, strong cock punch. Personally, I like the PC guy a little better because at least he combs his hair and shaves once in a while. I mean, you’re in a television commercial, asshole. At least try to look presentable.”

February 1 '07

So I've been listening to the "Dreamgirls" soundtrack nonstop; that's how I roll it yo, when I get hooked on a new CD I basically play it until it starts to skip.

By the way, remember when CD's first came out, way back in what, '88 or whenever? Maybe it was way earlier than that, I don't know, but that was the year I bought my first one, Paul Simon's "Graceland". But am I nuts or was part of the cache that you couldn't destroy them? I seem to recall being promised that you could play frisbee, putty the ceiling and rest any variety of hot or cold beverage on them and it wouldn't matter a lick. False. Oh well, file that under "The many things I was told in my life that turned out to be big fat lies", right next to "You would totally look cute with a flat top" and Scott Sanmanson promising not to take a job that was five states away because he loved me.

And also by the way, I don't actually say things like "that's how I roll it yo". I was just feeling sensitive to Bill's claim that I'd visited the "Ya'll" well too often and I was trying to street things up. I ain't runnin' for president, bitch!

What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the "Dreamgirls" soundtrack. So the kids love it too, we listen to it in the car on the way to school, and of course my little backseat diva belts out the line "You're lyin'! You're lyin' 'cuz your knockin' off that piece who thinks she's better than everybody!" as she is alighting from our car to enter the Catholic school she attends.

Why? Why ?