Suggestion #493 for connecting with your child - Stupid, classic, undeniably fun hats.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Suggestion #493 for connecting with your child - Stupid, classic, undeniably fun hats.
Suggestion #493 for connecting with your child - Stupid, classic, undeniably fun hats.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Not to mention the rips on Minnesota...
Today's big pronouncement - Glenn Beck on CNN's Headline News hates our freedom. He just interviewed newly elected Rep. Keith Ellison (D-MN), the first Muslim elected to the U.S. House. Beck tossed nothing but hateful, uninformed, anti-Muslim, anti-Democratic turdbags amidst his floundering caveats. I only watch Headline News if I'm in a gym. Or a holding cell. Here's a promise that I'll hereafter always request a channel change if I ever see this Beck dooshbag therein.
It stopped raining today. Briefly. Sun's out and the whole shebang. Seattle's been up to its musty flannel collar in rain recently. In fact, we've already broken the alltime November record (11.64 inches this month) and stand based on the forecast to break the alltime alltime monthly record. And we're only halfway through the month. Yet another reason why I bring the sunshine all the time here at and the Family Buick.
Hope all your own unbroken records are vinyl today. Rock on.
It stopped raining today. Briefly. Sun's out and the whole shebang. Seattle's been up to its musty flannel collar in rain recently. In fact, we've already broken the alltime November record (11.64 inches this month) and stand based on the forecast to break the alltime alltime monthly record. And we're only halfway through the month. Yet another reason why I bring the sunshine all the time here at and the Family Buick.
Hope all your own unbroken records are vinyl today. Rock on.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Rich Little - NOT dead
I still appreciate Letterman more often than not. He's gone through his musty periods, but he's a man to be admired. Actually, all the late night jockies get TiVo'd in our realm and I often do the 6-minute version of their various yet ridiculously similar hour-long shows. Still, one thing from last night's Letterman caught my eye. Rich Little, as the first guest during "Impressionists Week". I sincerely thought he was dead. But he looks absolutely THE same as I recall him seeming just behind the impressions viewed on those stolen occasions via a hotel TV or something equally exotic as a kid in the 70s. Little didn't do his signature Nixon, which was an absolute travesty. Whatever. He killed. If you remember him, you owe it to yourself to watch it.
A quick shout out to the NFL - yesterday's games were a total delight. The Bengals-Chargers game was sporty Viagra. And how 'bout Favre winning impressively in the Metrodome? Whoa. Savor it, America. Not many more of these outings remain for Country. They're all still sweet, nonetheless.
Hope you're not a crook either, all day. Rock on.
A quick shout out to the NFL - yesterday's games were a total delight. The Bengals-Chargers game was sporty Viagra. And how 'bout Favre winning impressively in the Metrodome? Whoa. Savor it, America. Not many more of these outings remain for Country. They're all still sweet, nonetheless.
Hope you're not a crook either, all day. Rock on.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Feingold '08 - R.I.P.
The LaFollette Wisconsin Reunification Tour's been cancelled for '08 - Russ Feingold's officially out of the race for Prez. Admittedly, he was the one guy I would have worked for in a heartbeat. For those of you looking to read the tealeaves of Dems in newly important Congressional positions, look no farther than Feingold's hat-tossing-retraction announcement in, of all places, the liberal blogosphere. Wherever that is. The Fightin' Feingold can't foresee being able to focus on his upcoming Committee requirements in the Senate if he were required to campaign for Prez (TRANSLATION: "raise money 24/7"). Still, this man still has the largest, brassiest balls in either chamber. Seriously. Two divorces, tons of enemies, the smell of inevitable anti-semitic ads tossed in his wake wherever he might campaign, yada yada yada. But just like my personal politically-irrelevant hero, Bob LaFollette Sr., Russ has those unmissable balls. Good luck with your mission to stink up the joint, Senator. As much as the Bushies will be dragged kickin' and screamin' to admit, even they will be soon forced under oath to acknowledge that you da man.
Hope your own campaigns are well funded today. Rock on.
Hope your own campaigns are well funded today. Rock on.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
Score one for the Reality-Based Community
Everyone's taking their Friday swings at summing up the Election. What can I say that everyone else hasn't or isn't saying? Let's see.
Iraq swayed the middle enough to throw things entirely away from the GOP. The Bushies were castrated. Dubya and Cheney are facing the two toughest years of their lives. Can't really see how they rescue their legacies, certainly not while they're still in office. The current/past GOP leadership are now tainted beyond recovery. Look for Guiliani, Pataki, McCain and the handful of remaining successful GOP Guvs to represent the class ascendant. Boehner's more dated than crack jokes - his time is done. Hastert will probably soon have that overdue heartattack. Just try and name a GOP House figure worth mentioning as a Party leader. Just one. On the other hand, the Dems look smart. Surprisingly disciplined. Nancy Pelosi is very good with the bright lights on her and she's the smartest person in the room almost every moment of the day. Harry Reid looks like a pharmacist or barbershop quartet First Tenor. But he's really so stealthy and Nevada sneaky smart I'd check his boots for a weapon every time he came in the room. If the Dems keep it focused and find that shining star (Obama, anyone?) to run for Prez in '08...well, they could become incredibly powerful people.
Who deserves blame in all this? Hell, all of us get a smidge. Living is crime enough in some enlightened cultures to feel reverence and blame at the same time for surviving. But the leaders that took us to "War" deserve the real blame. And by pandering to their evangelical base yet again without delivering the goods the Bushies just may have peed in the entire punchbowl for the GOP. Now that we've got split rule, what sort of bones do you expect to be thrown to the Dobsons of the political barnyard? Zilch. More on this historic shift as it occurs to me and naptime permits.
Hope your weekend includes heaps of fun to jump into. Rock on.
Iraq swayed the middle enough to throw things entirely away from the GOP. The Bushies were castrated. Dubya and Cheney are facing the two toughest years of their lives. Can't really see how they rescue their legacies, certainly not while they're still in office. The current/past GOP leadership are now tainted beyond recovery. Look for Guiliani, Pataki, McCain and the handful of remaining successful GOP Guvs to represent the class ascendant. Boehner's more dated than crack jokes - his time is done. Hastert will probably soon have that overdue heartattack. Just try and name a GOP House figure worth mentioning as a Party leader. Just one. On the other hand, the Dems look smart. Surprisingly disciplined. Nancy Pelosi is very good with the bright lights on her and she's the smartest person in the room almost every moment of the day. Harry Reid looks like a pharmacist or barbershop quartet First Tenor. But he's really so stealthy and Nevada sneaky smart I'd check his boots for a weapon every time he came in the room. If the Dems keep it focused and find that shining star (Obama, anyone?) to run for Prez in '08...well, they could become incredibly powerful people.
Who deserves blame in all this? Hell, all of us get a smidge. Living is crime enough in some enlightened cultures to feel reverence and blame at the same time for surviving. But the leaders that took us to "War" deserve the real blame. And by pandering to their evangelical base yet again without delivering the goods the Bushies just may have peed in the entire punchbowl for the GOP. Now that we've got split rule, what sort of bones do you expect to be thrown to the Dobsons of the political barnyard? Zilch. More on this historic shift as it occurs to me and naptime permits.
Hope your weekend includes heaps of fun to jump into. Rock on.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
"How's that garden burger, heh heh heh...?"
Wowza wowza - the newzy post-Election garbage dumps just keep on a comin'. The Pentagon released the investigation report of Pat Tillman's death. Whoa. Cover-up. Disgraceful delays. Skim the first reports and grimly await the Larry King, etc. interviews upcoming. The Tillman Family, at the very least, deserves attention. Greatly wronged, unimpeachably just Americans. Larry? Notsomuch. Sorry, Lair.
My new favorite parlor game surrounding Rummy's cut 'n runnin' - whether Dubya could have tilted the Election if he'd announced the resignation beforehand. My bet is that this just wasn't well-planned, and they're lying about THAT, too. Modus operandi for the Bushies. I mean, Dubya wanted to pick an Aggie? Who worked for his Dad? No way - Dubya didn't want to do this. But the Bushies couldn't allow Rummy to be called under oath by both chambers. No frickin' way. Picking Robert Gates was like choosing off-white for bathroom tile. Safe-ish. And regrettable. Just because. If I could be a fly on any wall today, it would be in the home bunker above the booze shelf in the Rummy compound just up from Cheney's on the Maryland shore.
I'm not going to bother putting up my Election nite blather. My predictions were close-ish - got the House spot on and missed a few races in the Senate that made all the difference. I expect I did about as well as most of you overly-informed newsdroids. Besides, we all know what happened. The Dems are jazzed. Can't wait for Macaca's concession speech. Or the stories describing what Dubya and Pelosi had for lunch. I'd bet they had a salad. Check back for a full breakdown.
Hope your own menu includes the pickled heart of your enemies and maybe a nice autumnal soup today. Rock on.
My new favorite parlor game surrounding Rummy's cut 'n runnin' - whether Dubya could have tilted the Election if he'd announced the resignation beforehand. My bet is that this just wasn't well-planned, and they're lying about THAT, too. Modus operandi for the Bushies. I mean, Dubya wanted to pick an Aggie? Who worked for his Dad? No way - Dubya didn't want to do this. But the Bushies couldn't allow Rummy to be called under oath by both chambers. No frickin' way. Picking Robert Gates was like choosing off-white for bathroom tile. Safe-ish. And regrettable. Just because. If I could be a fly on any wall today, it would be in the home bunker above the booze shelf in the Rummy compound just up from Cheney's on the Maryland shore.
I'm not going to bother putting up my Election nite blather. My predictions were close-ish - got the House spot on and missed a few races in the Senate that made all the difference. I expect I did about as well as most of you overly-informed newsdroids. Besides, we all know what happened. The Dems are jazzed. Can't wait for Macaca's concession speech. Or the stories describing what Dubya and Pelosi had for lunch. I'd bet they had a salad. Check back for a full breakdown.
Hope your own menu includes the pickled heart of your enemies and maybe a nice autumnal soup today. Rock on.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
"And goodness gracious, don't let that door hit you in the ass."
It's Rummy. He's resigning. Today. I hope FOX takes this story down soon. Otherwise they'll look a bit foolish. Or foolful. Yet another domino falls. Holy. Crap.
Yahtzee
Tester (D-MT) just claimed victory on CNN. Webb (D-VA) has also done so, although everyone expects Allen to run around with the ball for as long as he can as time runs out. The Bushies are trying to push that Dubya's prepped to drop a big newsy turd on the Nation at his upcoming presser. I'll be watching. Much more to come.
Hope you're wondering at long last what sort of country you woke up to today. Rock on.
Hope you're wondering at long last what sort of country you woke up to today. Rock on.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
America - F**K Yea!
Election Day. Like it or loathe it, we now all get to see where the chips fall. Or maybe we're about to embark on a replay of 2000. I've stayed away from speculating over the past week, mainly because the winds seem so uncertain and the counterspin has already begun. But from my perspective, it looks like turnout will be big. Maybe even huge. After dropping off Maya at her morning daycare, I made my way to my polling place. Yet another Lutheran church in Ballard. Fair enough - if I'm gonna trust leaving my daughter under their care, I certainly expect they can handle counting the neighborhood's vote. The voting early crowd was pretty thick. This is Seattle, though. You can't swing a burning American flag anywhere around here without flicking ash onto a crowd of well-informed gawdless Commies. We'll see what the rest of the country does and then I guarantee you a sizable blow-by-blow on the whole spectacle from my perspective. Please check back.
Hope your own polling gives you a significant head of steam today. Rock on.
UPDATE: If you watch one campaign ad this entire Election season, make it this one. George Michael and Dubya indellibly linked. Brilliant. Liberal gutcheck as all get out. Enjoy.
Hope your own polling gives you a significant head of steam today. Rock on.
UPDATE: If you watch one campaign ad this entire Election season, make it this one. George Michael and Dubya indellibly linked. Brilliant. Liberal gutcheck as all get out. Enjoy.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Maya was all smiles before we got to wrasslin' over this year's Halloween costume...
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Hope you enjoy a few quick photos of early stage of the Event. Rock on.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
FINALLY - I can check "Write review of The Dwarves show at the Croc" off my lifetime "To Do List"
Ah, yes - the weekend before the weekend before the Midterm Elections. Can you sense the excitement America? Well, in that case you're probably hopeful. Or terrified, depending on your political persuasion. Me? Confused as hell. I watch and read more than a family of political lowland gorillas. And I'm still only sure of how I'll vote. Yup, straight anti-LaRouche ticket. As ever. So I'll instead move on to other things.
The Cards won the World Series. In essence, 713,247 out of 227 million baseball fans (I'm estimating) are psyched about this year's October blandfest. And since the last time the Cards won was in '82 when they beat Real America's Team (the Brew Crew) and crushed my junior high aged heart...well, baseball's dead to me for the year when it comes to talking about these guys. Congrats. Now shut up. And vote McCaskill.
Maya's developing a strong appreciation for physical comedy. And since I'm the only comic she's familiar with, I'm feeling a bit thrashed about after the past week. Unfortunately, she caught some sort of stealth bug Monday nite and essentially spent the next few days whimpering while hopefully whining "Perform for me, Daddy!" So I did what any sucker would and ran my gag reel repertoire to the limit. And I got to work on my impressions of Sesame Street characters. Let's just say that my Ernie continues to kill. Yet aside from the occasional unintentional headbonk thanks to our incredibly irritating dining room light, I can't say that I'm planning to keep this routine up. Regardless, all you Maya fans should know that a pratfall will surely be the best way to win her heart next time you see her.
I've still not put up a review of the rock and roll show I saw last weekend. The Hold Steady. At the Crocodile Cafe in Belltown. My All-Time Favorite Club on the Planet. The space sucks. The drinks are hardly stiff enough for a place so steeped in musty edginess. But I used to hold court with some of my favorite people in the World in the corner booth in the back bar area way back when-ish. So my bias is hard won. On this occassion, I went back on my own, expecting to be a fly on the wall and hopefully not in the ointment. No such luck. The Hold Steady is this particular moment's bar buzz band and they take their timing from said buzz. Translation: they didn't hit the stage until well after two hilarious openers had gotten us all impossibly tangled. Incredibly friendly crowd. Ironically reminded me of the time in '98 when I saw a guy blow The Dwarves bassist to end a set just before the headlining Cows came out and bombed like LBJ. Oh wait...am I still typing out loud? Anyhoo, the point is to say that The Hold Steady is insanely good at what they do. Great band, greater crowd. When's the last time you went to a concert where two incredibly nice, obviously straight guys you'd just met argued between themselves about who should buy you a beer? For me it was last Saturday. If you have the chance, be there whenever they come through town.
If you're still reading, you have my utmost thanks. I'm just wasting time, avoiding the bigger writing that needs me. Hope your own timelines allow such departures today. Rock on.
The Cards won the World Series. In essence, 713,247 out of 227 million baseball fans (I'm estimating) are psyched about this year's October blandfest. And since the last time the Cards won was in '82 when they beat Real America's Team (the Brew Crew) and crushed my junior high aged heart...well, baseball's dead to me for the year when it comes to talking about these guys. Congrats. Now shut up. And vote McCaskill.
Maya's developing a strong appreciation for physical comedy. And since I'm the only comic she's familiar with, I'm feeling a bit thrashed about after the past week. Unfortunately, she caught some sort of stealth bug Monday nite and essentially spent the next few days whimpering while hopefully whining "Perform for me, Daddy!" So I did what any sucker would and ran my gag reel repertoire to the limit. And I got to work on my impressions of Sesame Street characters. Let's just say that my Ernie continues to kill. Yet aside from the occasional unintentional headbonk thanks to our incredibly irritating dining room light, I can't say that I'm planning to keep this routine up. Regardless, all you Maya fans should know that a pratfall will surely be the best way to win her heart next time you see her.
I've still not put up a review of the rock and roll show I saw last weekend. The Hold Steady. At the Crocodile Cafe in Belltown. My All-Time Favorite Club on the Planet. The space sucks. The drinks are hardly stiff enough for a place so steeped in musty edginess. But I used to hold court with some of my favorite people in the World in the corner booth in the back bar area way back when-ish. So my bias is hard won. On this occassion, I went back on my own, expecting to be a fly on the wall and hopefully not in the ointment. No such luck. The Hold Steady is this particular moment's bar buzz band and they take their timing from said buzz. Translation: they didn't hit the stage until well after two hilarious openers had gotten us all impossibly tangled. Incredibly friendly crowd. Ironically reminded me of the time in '98 when I saw a guy blow The Dwarves bassist to end a set just before the headlining Cows came out and bombed like LBJ. Oh wait...am I still typing out loud? Anyhoo, the point is to say that The Hold Steady is insanely good at what they do. Great band, greater crowd. When's the last time you went to a concert where two incredibly nice, obviously straight guys you'd just met argued between themselves about who should buy you a beer? For me it was last Saturday. If you have the chance, be there whenever they come through town.
If you're still reading, you have my utmost thanks. I'm just wasting time, avoiding the bigger writing that needs me. Hope your own timelines allow such departures today. Rock on.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
"Dear Listeners, Alex Keaton never would have gone all nimbly bimbly like that, would he?"
Too many political stories. Too little time. A few quick drive-bys while Maya hopefully naps a bit longer.
Tennessee just got a whole lot less civil with what might be this Election's Tackiest yet Most Hilarious, Worst Intended and Most Glaringly Racist Ad. Put together by the RNC against Harold Ford. It implies that because Ford's single, hot and has admitted to liking women, white Playboy Mansion chicks dig him. As if that's suddenly a bad thing in Tennessee. But the white chick aspect is really turning up the negative heat in that race.
If you haven't yet entered an Election pool this season (all the kidz are doing it), I suggest the Washington Post's Midterm Madness. Yes, that's how goshdarn American this Midterm has become - they've stolen the bracket sensibilities of the NCAA Basketball Tourneys. Yet another reason why the churchy hillbilly vote ain't gonna have as much sway this year, I reckon.
The whole Michael J. Fox vs. Rush Limbaugh debate of who's on what medication is really quite entertaining. Of course Rush is a complete facade who wouldn't know the proper use of medication if he had it tattooed inside his eyelids. But the fact that's he's digging in and defending his criticism of Fox's Parkinson's symptoms is creamy political nougat. The gross kind that is unavoidably delicious. For the unacquainted, this one, um, stems from a stem-cell initiative in Missouri that's partially hijacked the race between Talent (R-Incumbent) and McCaskill. Great race to watch.
Nap time might be ending. Thanks for checking in. Hope all your tics are unnoticed today. Rock on.
Tennessee just got a whole lot less civil with what might be this Election's Tackiest yet Most Hilarious, Worst Intended and Most Glaringly Racist Ad. Put together by the RNC against Harold Ford. It implies that because Ford's single, hot and has admitted to liking women, white Playboy Mansion chicks dig him. As if that's suddenly a bad thing in Tennessee. But the white chick aspect is really turning up the negative heat in that race.
If you haven't yet entered an Election pool this season (all the kidz are doing it), I suggest the Washington Post's Midterm Madness. Yes, that's how goshdarn American this Midterm has become - they've stolen the bracket sensibilities of the NCAA Basketball Tourneys. Yet another reason why the churchy hillbilly vote ain't gonna have as much sway this year, I reckon.
The whole Michael J. Fox vs. Rush Limbaugh debate of who's on what medication is really quite entertaining. Of course Rush is a complete facade who wouldn't know the proper use of medication if he had it tattooed inside his eyelids. But the fact that's he's digging in and defending his criticism of Fox's Parkinson's symptoms is creamy political nougat. The gross kind that is unavoidably delicious. For the unacquainted, this one, um, stems from a stem-cell initiative in Missouri that's partially hijacked the race between Talent (R-Incumbent) and McCaskill. Great race to watch.
Nap time might be ending. Thanks for checking in. Hope all your tics are unnoticed today. Rock on.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
"We now call it 'compassionate cutting and no child left behind running'..."
Everyone's kicking the War Over Iraq ugly can of worms further down the road today. The absurdity of "stay the course" now being banned sloganeering by the Bushies should float to the top of this slurry. But the press conference that Gen. Casey and Ambassador Khalilzad gave this morning will be today's buried lead. They've now put a date on our withdrawal - 12 to 18 months. They blamed the Iraqis for not sending enough troops to Baghdad. They blamed Iran and Syria for everything else. And in the midst of the presser, the power went out. In the Green Zone. Since the Bushies so firmly believe in imagery and love to stage the stuffing out of any event, the fact that this presser went so off the tracks with our two top dudes on the dais...well, even Barney the Dog can see that this whole mess is swirling toward the drain. Plus much more menacingly, someone's now got an American soldier as a prisoner. Poor kid's awaiting whatever sort of torture payback we can expect from here on out thanks to the idiocy of Dubya's torture stance. If you've got something else to focus on today, do so. On our end, Maya woke up with a fever and is essentially strapped to my side all day. But we're gonna make it fun (forced smile)...
Hope you own clouds have sparkling silver innards all day. Rock on.
Hope you own clouds have sparkling silver innards all day. Rock on.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Go Pack Go. Or, more appropriately, Go Please Back to the Drawing Board Pack Go!
Gotta put up something on the Packers, even though the mere mention of this Season's quagmire hurts. I'll watch every game until I die - don't get me wrong. DirecTV's NFL Sunday Ticket is my most cherished annual purchase. But even the most irrational NFL fan would agree that this Packer squad is an abject failure. Of imagination. Of inspiration. Of everything. We appear to be entering the post-Favre-era with a boundless desert of despair ahead of us. Hope everybody packed extra longjohns 'cause it could be a LONG cold streak. To pick at entrails a bit, I just saw the intro screen that finally made me realize we're starting an offensive line with three rookies and a second-year guy at center. A solid 'Sconi guy - Mark Tauscher - completes the squad. But one Badger does not a well-protected den make. How small-story sad that what had been the basis of the previous Packer success (big line, run the crap out of sweeps, keep Favre/Starr covered at all costs) is now quite possibly our most glaring flaw. Sure, rookies can surprise you. But the Pack's rooks are named Tony Moll, Jason Spitz and Daryn Colledge. Daryn Colledge. Two spelling mistakes in one lug's name. And he's our Left Tackle. We're so screwed.
Hope your own depth charts are stunning in their, um, depth today. Rock on.
Hope your own depth charts are stunning in their, um, depth today. Rock on.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Today's bonus post - classic Rummie. Scaring the shite out of rational people since before Vietnam was a political liability...
You'll need to scroll down to the near basement of this story to catch the buried lead. On Iraq, Rummy is entirely out of the barn and unrecoverable for the Bushies. Craziest bastard anywhere NEAR power since Alexander Haig had a cubicle in the West Wing early in Reagan's first term. No wonder so many with so much are now doing everything possible to jetison this guy with 5 years of garbage barnacled to his backside. I'll just pull that buried lead to add the emphasis to my lament. This is what Rummy said yesterday in response to a question about...oh hell, no one knows what he's saying or why anymore. Just read it and weep:
"There’s no doubt in my mind but that some of those projections we won’t make; it will be later, or even earlier in some instances. And in some cases, once we meet the projection, we may have to go back and do it again.”
Hope the progress you're making today has a handful less caveats attached. Rock on.
"There’s no doubt in my mind but that some of those projections we won’t make; it will be later, or even earlier in some instances. And in some cases, once we meet the projection, we may have to go back and do it again.”
Hope the progress you're making today has a handful less caveats attached. Rock on.
"It's all about exposure, Jay. And pressing the flesh. But funny. Because I love people."
The race for Guhvahnar of Cullyforneeya is over. Ahnold triangulated in meritorious fashion. Phil Angelides is as inspiring as a dusty potted plant. Yawnsville. But we've now got a story from that race worth Googling or otherwise - Mary Carey's demanding equal time on Leno's horribly hackneyed "Tonight Show". I say give it to her. The woman's earned it. Have the Teddy Kennedys and Mitch McConnells of the current political class "lost weight, replaced their teeth, and gotten new breast implants" for us - the American people? Well, maybe McConnell. That bitch will do anything to get elected. Kinda like the kid that will eat anything for a dollar. Nonetheless, gotta give Carey her due, Jay. Have Charlie Sheen on the same show. That's pure chemistry. The snarky non-jokes write themselves, babe.
For those wondering of Maya's exploits with the Lutherans in the mornings during the week, let me just say that she's entirely happy there. We call it "school" and whenever we suggest to Maya in the morning that we go to school, she's in whole hog. There are certainly a few odd ducks in the mix, both kids and workers-wise. More mullets per capita than you'd imagined possible at this point in Civilization's march forward. But they do a dang fine job. One side note: I noticed the occasional depiction of comical Jesus playing with all the children of the World. Personally, I'd like to see a more multicultural mix with all the proper shout-outs to the World's religions. The Pope, Bob Marley, Tom Cruise - hell, everyone gets a cartoonish charicature in my agnostic middleground. Aside from that oversight, the Lutherans are doing just fine by Maya. Who, by the way, took a hardcore digger off her trike this morning when I was distracted by a quartet of Gawd Squad folks (ironic, isn't it...) coming up the street. Luckily, we weren't moving. Unluckily, Maya likes to steer even when we're standing still. In this instance, she lost her grip on the handlebars. Went down like an upended pot roast. Splat. Cut her lip a wee bit. Made me look like the World's Worst Dad. But got the evangelicals to keep on keepin' on down the Street. So it's sort of a lose-lose-win. Regardless, Maya rallied in no time with a bit of banana and some attention to her boo boo as the owner's manual suggested. Easy peasy in no time. The kid's a champ.
Hope your own tumbles are more comical than destructive today. Rock on.
For those wondering of Maya's exploits with the Lutherans in the mornings during the week, let me just say that she's entirely happy there. We call it "school" and whenever we suggest to Maya in the morning that we go to school, she's in whole hog. There are certainly a few odd ducks in the mix, both kids and workers-wise. More mullets per capita than you'd imagined possible at this point in Civilization's march forward. But they do a dang fine job. One side note: I noticed the occasional depiction of comical Jesus playing with all the children of the World. Personally, I'd like to see a more multicultural mix with all the proper shout-outs to the World's religions. The Pope, Bob Marley, Tom Cruise - hell, everyone gets a cartoonish charicature in my agnostic middleground. Aside from that oversight, the Lutherans are doing just fine by Maya. Who, by the way, took a hardcore digger off her trike this morning when I was distracted by a quartet of Gawd Squad folks (ironic, isn't it...) coming up the street. Luckily, we weren't moving. Unluckily, Maya likes to steer even when we're standing still. In this instance, she lost her grip on the handlebars. Went down like an upended pot roast. Splat. Cut her lip a wee bit. Made me look like the World's Worst Dad. But got the evangelicals to keep on keepin' on down the Street. So it's sort of a lose-lose-win. Regardless, Maya rallied in no time with a bit of banana and some attention to her boo boo as the owner's manual suggested. Easy peasy in no time. The kid's a champ.
Hope your own tumbles are more comical than destructive today. Rock on.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Tony Snow gives the entire Nation some serious head
Today's unintentionally revealing story - White House Press Secretary Tony Snow has a honkin' bald spot back up yonder. His lame attempt at exasperated humor during today's briefing lead to the following screen capture:
But much more baldly ludicrous was the way he was trying to discredit yesterday's military assessments of our burgeoning mess in Baghdad. There was a time that Tony Snow was a curious figure - leaving a high-paying gig firmly entrenched within the biggest den of koolaid drinkers in the Land for an upfronter that Scott McLellan made look less fun than quail hunting with the Veep. So I think I've determined what made Tony do it. He's hiding something. Up top, in his velvety spew, all the way through and through. Watch him. I don't think this revelation will be Tony's last.
Hope your own vaguely paranoid conjectures sound plausible today. Rock on.
But much more baldly ludicrous was the way he was trying to discredit yesterday's military assessments of our burgeoning mess in Baghdad. There was a time that Tony Snow was a curious figure - leaving a high-paying gig firmly entrenched within the biggest den of koolaid drinkers in the Land for an upfronter that Scott McLellan made look less fun than quail hunting with the Veep. So I think I've determined what made Tony do it. He's hiding something. Up top, in his velvety spew, all the way through and through. Watch him. I don't think this revelation will be Tony's last.
Hope your own vaguely paranoid conjectures sound plausible today. Rock on.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Keith Olbermann has ginormous nads
OK, folks. The midterm election din of debate is reaching a crazy level. I could spend all day throwing meat at the lions like so many squawking heads out there are doing. But I'm thinking about dialing back the political commentary for the next few weeks. I know I affect far too many people and maybe as the Bushies love to spew, we all should "let history judge for itself. "
On second thought...absolutely not. Case in point, here's something everyone should watch. For those of you that have heard me pontificate on Dubya's torture bill lately (apologies, all around) the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus has my oysters steamed like never before. The fact that this utterly wrong seachange in our Nation's system of laws has been buried in the muck otherwise being tracked around is an atrocity. To his burgeoning credit as a leading voice, Keith Olbermann delivered this stunning piece upon that very issue. No punches are pulled, I guarantee you. It'll take you 10 minutes to watch the whole clip. In all honesty, I hear more Edward R. Murrow in Olbermann everytime he opens his mouth these days.
Hope your own impressions are equally heartfelt today. Rock on.
On second thought...absolutely not. Case in point, here's something everyone should watch. For those of you that have heard me pontificate on Dubya's torture bill lately (apologies, all around) the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus has my oysters steamed like never before. The fact that this utterly wrong seachange in our Nation's system of laws has been buried in the muck otherwise being tracked around is an atrocity. To his burgeoning credit as a leading voice, Keith Olbermann delivered this stunning piece upon that very issue. No punches are pulled, I guarantee you. It'll take you 10 minutes to watch the whole clip. In all honesty, I hear more Edward R. Murrow in Olbermann everytime he opens his mouth these days.
Hope your own impressions are equally heartfelt today. Rock on.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Oh, and Newt's fat. And sort of pink. And was trained in France to look for truffles...
Time to redirect the Nation. I feel it's my duty, on occasion. But first of all, a few corrections.
My earlier review of the new Beck album (The Information) was all wrong. It is sensational. If anyone took my prior snap judgment seriously, please reconsider. My new rating - a solid, guilt-free A-Minus.
My earlier review of The Hold Steady's album (Boys and Girls in America) stands. But I missed a major point of reference, as was pointed out by Sarah when she got back from a run with the iPod. I'd referenced The Replacements. She hears Husker Du. Everyone should. And while those of us that can somewhat parse the minutia from the Minneapple's legendary scene-dom will certainly see the difference, I'd nonetheless be remiss if I didn't point out the striking sound similarities. Or, put another way, "way cool album."
One new review of note - Scott Smith's suspense thriller "The Ruins" sat largely untouched on my bedside following a Stephen King rave a few months back. I finally got focused on it over the weekend. It's flawless. Scary as hell. And since his prior novel "A Simple Plan" so confidently made the leap to the big screen with Sam Raimi's help, I expect this movie will scare the beejeezus out of the masses in a few years. Beat 'em to the punch. Read it now. My rating - a rare solid A.
Newsiness-wise, I'll let everyone else fall all over themselves trying to track what's going down in the midterm election lead-up. Predictions are for suckers. So here's mine - Dems pull down two dozen-plus seats in the House and put Murtha in the Speaker's office. Pelosi becomes Majority Leader. The Senate's the real quagmire, though. Dems pick up six seats, lose one. Santorum, Talent, DeWine, Burns and Allen all lose. Ford wins Frist's old seat in TN. But Menendez in NJ loses to Keane Junior who's just riding on his Dad's 9/11 Commission coattails anyways. Lieberman's back as a castrated Indie. Sanders takes over confidently 900 yards to the Left of the pre-Alzheimer's Jeffords. And who's left with the tie-breaker vote? Dick "Big Time" Cheney. Meanwhile, Waxman begins the investigations into the rationale for going to war in Iraq given his new supeona powers as Chairman of the House Goverment Reform Committee. Smoke a little bit of THAT future, if you will.
Much more importantly, I'd like to draw added attention to the passing of Gerry Studds (D-MA, former U.S. Rep) over the weekend. After Foley blew up all over the faces of the GOP attack monkeys, they invoked Studds's name repeatedly for the controversy that arose 10 years after Studds had a sexual relationship with a 17-year-old page. Studds went on to become a big gay rights activist, especially because he'd been forcibly outted and was able to continue serving as a Rep from the Cape Cod and nearby district of Massholedom. The GOP attack monkeys were of course hateful and wrong wrong wrong in their attempt to pass the buck for the current scandal of covering up for this Foley creep. But the fact that they did it so blatently and then Studds dies so sadly this past weekend...I mean you just owe it to yourself to read at least one good obit on the guy. If Foley's own obit someday features the sort of obvious growth and achievement after years of embracing his homosexuality, then I'll eat some crow and say that I'm wrong about this. Until then, guys like Newt Gingrich are complete pigs who've wallowed in their own filth so long they can no longer discern the stench that has become their very essence. Exclamation point.
Hope your own exits from the room to do something as mundane as make a sandwich feature the same sort of self-administered high fives. Rock on.
My earlier review of the new Beck album (The Information) was all wrong. It is sensational. If anyone took my prior snap judgment seriously, please reconsider. My new rating - a solid, guilt-free A-Minus.
My earlier review of The Hold Steady's album (Boys and Girls in America) stands. But I missed a major point of reference, as was pointed out by Sarah when she got back from a run with the iPod. I'd referenced The Replacements. She hears Husker Du. Everyone should. And while those of us that can somewhat parse the minutia from the Minneapple's legendary scene-dom will certainly see the difference, I'd nonetheless be remiss if I didn't point out the striking sound similarities. Or, put another way, "way cool album."
One new review of note - Scott Smith's suspense thriller "The Ruins" sat largely untouched on my bedside following a Stephen King rave a few months back. I finally got focused on it over the weekend. It's flawless. Scary as hell. And since his prior novel "A Simple Plan" so confidently made the leap to the big screen with Sam Raimi's help, I expect this movie will scare the beejeezus out of the masses in a few years. Beat 'em to the punch. Read it now. My rating - a rare solid A.
Newsiness-wise, I'll let everyone else fall all over themselves trying to track what's going down in the midterm election lead-up. Predictions are for suckers. So here's mine - Dems pull down two dozen-plus seats in the House and put Murtha in the Speaker's office. Pelosi becomes Majority Leader. The Senate's the real quagmire, though. Dems pick up six seats, lose one. Santorum, Talent, DeWine, Burns and Allen all lose. Ford wins Frist's old seat in TN. But Menendez in NJ loses to Keane Junior who's just riding on his Dad's 9/11 Commission coattails anyways. Lieberman's back as a castrated Indie. Sanders takes over confidently 900 yards to the Left of the pre-Alzheimer's Jeffords. And who's left with the tie-breaker vote? Dick "Big Time" Cheney. Meanwhile, Waxman begins the investigations into the rationale for going to war in Iraq given his new supeona powers as Chairman of the House Goverment Reform Committee. Smoke a little bit of THAT future, if you will.
Much more importantly, I'd like to draw added attention to the passing of Gerry Studds (D-MA, former U.S. Rep) over the weekend. After Foley blew up all over the faces of the GOP attack monkeys, they invoked Studds's name repeatedly for the controversy that arose 10 years after Studds had a sexual relationship with a 17-year-old page. Studds went on to become a big gay rights activist, especially because he'd been forcibly outted and was able to continue serving as a Rep from the Cape Cod and nearby district of Massholedom. The GOP attack monkeys were of course hateful and wrong wrong wrong in their attempt to pass the buck for the current scandal of covering up for this Foley creep. But the fact that they did it so blatently and then Studds dies so sadly this past weekend...I mean you just owe it to yourself to read at least one good obit on the guy. If Foley's own obit someday features the sort of obvious growth and achievement after years of embracing his homosexuality, then I'll eat some crow and say that I'm wrong about this. Until then, guys like Newt Gingrich are complete pigs who've wallowed in their own filth so long they can no longer discern the stench that has become their very essence. Exclamation point.
Hope your own exits from the room to do something as mundane as make a sandwich feature the same sort of self-administered high fives. Rock on.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Saturday, October 07, 2006
A Foley-free Saturday update - Catching up on some reviews
As much as I've been distracted by the ugly bizness of politics lately, I'm still doing the job none of you pay me to do - meticulously reviewing movies, music and cultural trends with an eye honed covering Fashion Weeks and the most fab-tabulous cultural outings on all the known continents for the finest glossy mags. But lately I've let some of those reviews fall aside without proper posting. So as I soak up the autumnal glow outside one of my favorite old-school Seattle coffeeshops (Caffe Ladro on top of Queen Anne), I'll try to catch up on a few that come to mind. Hope you don't mind the shortened shtick given the backlog.
Films
"Snakes on a Plane" - a sporty C-Plus rating. While the silliness loses much of its bite before the climax, if you're looking for stupid thrills you can do much, much worse. See it with a passel of drunken frat guys, if at all possible.
"Factotum" - a meanderingly arty C-Plus rating. Matt Dillon ain't bad. Lili Taylor is this year's Comeback of the Year That No One Will Notice - sexier than ever and whipsmart. But if you want to see this movie, rent it. Or, better yet, rent "Barfly".
"Half Nelson" - a reluctantly harsh C-Plus. Ryan Gosling looks like Tim Roth and Ed Norton's lovechild. And he's got his Daddies' acting chops, to be sure. His co-star, Shawna Epps, steals every scene she's in. But there's something unsatisfyingly derivative in this arty-farty fave. Still worth the rental.
New Music
"Boys and Girls in America" by The Hold Steady - a solid A-minus. If you have a soft spot for The Replacements and love the idea of the Twin Cities being the inspired scene of many, many drinking laments, this is the album you've been waiting for all these many years. I left Minneapolis before Lifter Puller established themselves there and achieved legendary status. The Hold Steady is the new incarnation of the braintrust in LFTR PLLR, transplanted to NYC. But they still know what works. OG TC F (original gargantuan Twin Cities fun). BY THS I U RCK (buy this if you rock).
"The Information" by Beck - a confused B-Minus. Love Beck. But he's starting to sound more like a brand than an identity.
"The Crane Wife" by the Decemberists - a hopeful B-Minus. I love these guys. But even I can only tolerate so many 13-minute songs about seafaring adventures. Making the move to a big label I expect will soon inspire them to shift to writing about getting laid and rocking out. That will be an unwelcome change. Nonetheless, my short-lived love affair with them appears to be in great peril.
"I'm Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass" by Yo La Tengo - a strong B-Plus. They are after all my favorite living band. And they continue to write songs that weave into albums rather than radio playlists. In short, I'll listen to anything these three put together. I'm just glad that so much of it is still so damn good.
Time to dive back into the other things I should be writing. Hope your own reviews are glowing today. Rock on.
Films
"Snakes on a Plane" - a sporty C-Plus rating. While the silliness loses much of its bite before the climax, if you're looking for stupid thrills you can do much, much worse. See it with a passel of drunken frat guys, if at all possible.
"Factotum" - a meanderingly arty C-Plus rating. Matt Dillon ain't bad. Lili Taylor is this year's Comeback of the Year That No One Will Notice - sexier than ever and whipsmart. But if you want to see this movie, rent it. Or, better yet, rent "Barfly".
"Half Nelson" - a reluctantly harsh C-Plus. Ryan Gosling looks like Tim Roth and Ed Norton's lovechild. And he's got his Daddies' acting chops, to be sure. His co-star, Shawna Epps, steals every scene she's in. But there's something unsatisfyingly derivative in this arty-farty fave. Still worth the rental.
New Music
"Boys and Girls in America" by The Hold Steady - a solid A-minus. If you have a soft spot for The Replacements and love the idea of the Twin Cities being the inspired scene of many, many drinking laments, this is the album you've been waiting for all these many years. I left Minneapolis before Lifter Puller established themselves there and achieved legendary status. The Hold Steady is the new incarnation of the braintrust in LFTR PLLR, transplanted to NYC. But they still know what works. OG TC F (original gargantuan Twin Cities fun). BY THS I U RCK (buy this if you rock).
"The Information" by Beck - a confused B-Minus. Love Beck. But he's starting to sound more like a brand than an identity.
"The Crane Wife" by the Decemberists - a hopeful B-Minus. I love these guys. But even I can only tolerate so many 13-minute songs about seafaring adventures. Making the move to a big label I expect will soon inspire them to shift to writing about getting laid and rocking out. That will be an unwelcome change. Nonetheless, my short-lived love affair with them appears to be in great peril.
"I'm Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass" by Yo La Tengo - a strong B-Plus. They are after all my favorite living band. And they continue to write songs that weave into albums rather than radio playlists. In short, I'll listen to anything these three put together. I'm just glad that so much of it is still so damn good.
Time to dive back into the other things I should be writing. Hope your own reviews are glowing today. Rock on.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Here's to you, Johnny. Thanks for everything.
Seldom does an obit headline get me to react with an "oh, man - nooo". But I just did so when I saw that R.W. Apple Jr. died. He's the singular example of an old school newspaperman that I admired before I even knew any of his contemporaries. And thereafter, he's never faded from prominance I my mind, no matter what he was writing about. His food writing was all about the experience, with troves of knowledge to back it up. I love that a mention of his piece from a few years back on Nueske's bacon in Wisconsin made it into his obit in the San Francisco Chronicle. He probably would have loved the juxtaposition as well.
"See, I draw much of my power from my belt. Kinda like Batman. You guys should look into it. Heh, heh."
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
"And all she wants to do is dance, dance, dance."
For those of you looking for an appalling non-Foley political story, the Tammy Duckworth (D) race against Pete Roskam (R) for an open House seat from Illinois is a contender. Duckworth is an Iraq War veteran who was injured in combat. Roskam is a loyal GOPer. During their first debate, she criticized Roskam's support of the Bushies' Iraq War policies. Roskam said she wants to "cut and run." Oh, I forgot to mention that she lost both of her legs in Iraq. Yup. Now THAT's balls. Or abject stupidity. Either way, he lost the election with that one, I'd bet.
Hope your own feet get nowhere near your mouth today. Rock on.
Hope your own feet get nowhere near your mouth today. Rock on.
Monday, October 02, 2006
"When Life gives you lemons, vaguely blame it on Clinton and change the subject. Just like Jesus would do."
I predict that the Foley disaster is the sharpest double-edged sword in a generation for his Party. The GOP appears sunk in this election throughout the Congress and a number of State Houses around the country. But they'll all be able to blame their losses on a Gawdless pervert and be damn sure any hint of a liberal leaning in his voting history will be used to discredit him. In the BiggestLosers column, Denny Hastert is right up top. I'm just amazed it took this long. His bulletproof absurdity in the role as Speaker innoculated him, I guess. Until now. And just wait for all the Nancy Grace-less-es of the media World to play prosecutor on newly released emails with an underage ex-Page who it appears he had a relationship with. Pretty soon Foley's going to be counting the days until when he can escape the spotlight from behind bars. Whatever will soon happen to him on the outside will make a pervert rap on the inside sound pretty cozy, I'm afraid.
Although not everybody thinks a Congressman soliciting underage Pages for homosexual relations is a big deal. Like Matt Drudge. His top above the banner story yesterday was a regurgitated leak from a studio stooge about the upcoming release of "Borat". Guess the Kazakstanis are throwing a bit more of that wasted advertising cash around.
The Milwaukee Brewers won their final game of the season on the road in St. Louis, who nonetheless backed into the playoffs thanks to an earlier loss by Houston. The New Brew Crew were largely a youthful disappointment this year, finishing 75-87. Lots of talent, some of it uncoachably prone to high-pressure doofusness. The Brewers sucked on the road (27-54). Add it all up and I'd bet there were quite a few especially dirty hotel rooms left in their wake this season. Sorry, America. I promise on the team's behalf that next year will be much tidier from your point of view.
The Packers will be starting up on Monday Night Football in less than an hour. Also sorry 'bout that, America. Hope your own hometown sportiness is well above .500 today. Rock on.
Although not everybody thinks a Congressman soliciting underage Pages for homosexual relations is a big deal. Like Matt Drudge. His top above the banner story yesterday was a regurgitated leak from a studio stooge about the upcoming release of "Borat". Guess the Kazakstanis are throwing a bit more of that wasted advertising cash around.
The Milwaukee Brewers won their final game of the season on the road in St. Louis, who nonetheless backed into the playoffs thanks to an earlier loss by Houston. The New Brew Crew were largely a youthful disappointment this year, finishing 75-87. Lots of talent, some of it uncoachably prone to high-pressure doofusness. The Brewers sucked on the road (27-54). Add it all up and I'd bet there were quite a few especially dirty hotel rooms left in their wake this season. Sorry, America. I promise on the team's behalf that next year will be much tidier from your point of view.
The Packers will be starting up on Monday Night Football in less than an hour. Also sorry 'bout that, America. Hope your own hometown sportiness is well above .500 today. Rock on.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
"SpinDoctor, we need to replace the Foley immediately..."
It would be hard to imagine a ranker form of rank hypocrisy than that of Rep. Mark Foley (R-Fla.). Dude was a six-term GOP lapdog and chair of the House GOP Caucus (whatever that amounted to) on Missing and Exploited Children. Dude was Deputy Majority Whip for the GOP. Dude was cruising to re-election. And Dude had been widely looked to as the savior in the Florida Senate race to take the place of the laughably delicious Katherine Harris. But Dude liked having text-message sex (how lame is that...) with high school boys interning (rimshot!) as Congressional Pages. Maybe that's all. But because of my appreciation of the coffee and donut I just enjoyed, I won't bother describing the extent of the evidence already presented against Foley and just what he might have been doing otherwise. We'll all probably see enough of it in the weeks ahead to fill a season worth of AfterSchool Specials. So Foley ducked for cover and resigned smack dab on the DAY! the GOP Congressional re-election effort was supposed to change course substantially. They'd planned to run on Border security. On funding the military. On torturing the bloody stool out of terrorists. But certainly not on an alleged pedophile and member of the House Leadership's failed efforts to track down our exploited kids. Oh, and in case you think this whole Foley unsightly holy moly mess is just another outrage, need I remind you - this is about sex. Creepy, criminal, indefensible sex. Or the pursuit thereof. Past Pages are already coming out saying that they were specifically warned to stay as far afield from Foley as possible. Sure, sure - this might just be a blip on an already impossibly messy screen. Or, given a Party shift, so much more...
Hope your own moments of speculative outrage subside quickly beneath a flow of goshdarn fun this weekend. Rock on.
Hope your own moments of speculative outrage subside quickly beneath a flow of goshdarn fun this weekend. Rock on.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
"I like to think of de-classifyin' as a way of using a filter to remove the filter. Heh, heh."
Ahrrrgh...it's been a while since a straight-up newsie post. Working on other things, but never losing touch with what matters. Such as being aghast at all the folks who've judged Bill Clinton's smackdown of Chris Wallace without actually taking the time to watch the interview. It will fully blow your mind, guaranteed. Bill's still the smartest guy anywhere near the Federal government - current or past tense. And the attacks on him thereafter just prove once again how much he's hated by the right-wing crowd. Compelling TV, nonetheless.
This whole National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) de-classification debate is as much fun as having a testicle rammed up where testicles don't usually chill. Dubya's gotta deal out more than 3 pages of 30. And it's gonna hurt. For everyone. But the Bushies will eventually dangle from this one. Just imagine one scenario from this document's description. Imagine that our intelligence services estimate that our Iraq operations over 3 years at a cost of well beyond $400 Billion and approaching 3000 American lives made us less safe. Created terrorists. Wasted our advantage. Lost us allies. And left us open to attack. Now just imagine that someone actually cared that this scenario was more than real - it was the currently agreed upon truth from the professionals. So they leak it before the election. And then raise the dubious ire of Dubya as a "political" move. Even though the Bushies' misappropriating the truth of this "War" for purely political purposes should be so, so much more appalling. Dubya tried to discredit this NIE as the view of the shite from way back in April. As if anything's been fixed since then. Face it, you 14,000 die-hard Dubya supporters living in your Y2K bunkers waiting for the other shoe to drop...you're horse is so far out of the barn there just ain't no gettin' it back.
I'll get through some more of the backlog in the next few days. All's well on this end - Maya's taken to the Lutherans like a fish to a new bicycle that's got a comfy banana seat. Hope your own logic somehow works today. Rock on.
This whole National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) de-classification debate is as much fun as having a testicle rammed up where testicles don't usually chill. Dubya's gotta deal out more than 3 pages of 30. And it's gonna hurt. For everyone. But the Bushies will eventually dangle from this one. Just imagine one scenario from this document's description. Imagine that our intelligence services estimate that our Iraq operations over 3 years at a cost of well beyond $400 Billion and approaching 3000 American lives made us less safe. Created terrorists. Wasted our advantage. Lost us allies. And left us open to attack. Now just imagine that someone actually cared that this scenario was more than real - it was the currently agreed upon truth from the professionals. So they leak it before the election. And then raise the dubious ire of Dubya as a "political" move. Even though the Bushies' misappropriating the truth of this "War" for purely political purposes should be so, so much more appalling. Dubya tried to discredit this NIE as the view of the shite from way back in April. As if anything's been fixed since then. Face it, you 14,000 die-hard Dubya supporters living in your Y2K bunkers waiting for the other shoe to drop...you're horse is so far out of the barn there just ain't no gettin' it back.
I'll get through some more of the backlog in the next few days. All's well on this end - Maya's taken to the Lutherans like a fish to a new bicycle that's got a comfy banana seat. Hope your own logic somehow works today. Rock on.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
"OK, class - today's sermon is sponsored by the letter 'B' and the number '6'..."
Big day on our end. Maya started daycare. Here in the United States. We'll just call that pleasant month of part-time drop-off daycare in Cuernavaca an indecipherable (for me) test-run. And the daycare center is run by a buncha Lutherans. In prison. Just joshing. Except about the Lutherans part. Kinda ironic to have spent the last half of my life running away from the glare of Lutherans to just now return their embrace. Oh, and just so you know, I was raised a Methodist. So going to the Lutherans now is probably something like showing up at Brett Favre's retirement party wearing a Vikings jersey.
The morning didn't start well - we got there later than intended and burst into the scrum right at snack time. If you want pressure, just imagine sitting around a foot-high table on six-inch-high chairs surrounded by the competition for the best toys when they've got a two apple slice and three cracker edge on you. Maya lost her game face quickly, while I felt the glaring eyes of circling daycare staffers assessing my overall, um, Lutheran-ishness. But we got our legs under us, and eventually I left Maya to the swim in that end of the pool for an hour. We expected this might be a shortened version of her hoped-for typical daycare morning, but I considered the prospect of a gaggle of Lutherans hugging the doubt out of Maya dubious at best. I tried to head off to a cafe and get some work done. In 59 minutes and change I stormed back through the gate, fearing the worst (translation: Maya with her first prison tattoo or a promise of marriage to that little unibrow monster, Mike, who I saw checking her out with absolutely no subtlety just before I left). Yet we can all rest easy - Maya was happy as a clam playing outside with her chums. Can't say that I've had many better moments than having her recognize me and begin to run over cheering "Da!" as I approached the outdoor scrum of toddlers and caregivers. I've since found no tats nor has Maya asked if I have a favorite Christian rock band. And with her down for a nap, I happily predict that our daycare updates will continue to unfold in the days and weeks ahead. Unless, of course, I get excommunicated or whatever Lutherans do when they figure out that you seemingly went to school with Beelzebub.
Can't even bring myself to fully comment on Dubya's speech last night. Horrid juxtaposing of unrelated disasters. The victims of 9/11 deserve so, so, so much better.
Speaking of disasters, the Green Bay Packers were shut out on Sunday, 26-0. It was the first shut out for the Pack since '91, before Favre had even moved North of the Mason-Dixon line (he was a rookie back-up QB in Atlanta that Season). And it came in their first game of this deeply ominous Season. At home. Against Da Bears. I hope Lombardi's cable service in Heaven was out.
Hope your snack time today comes with an inspiring prayer. Rock on.
The morning didn't start well - we got there later than intended and burst into the scrum right at snack time. If you want pressure, just imagine sitting around a foot-high table on six-inch-high chairs surrounded by the competition for the best toys when they've got a two apple slice and three cracker edge on you. Maya lost her game face quickly, while I felt the glaring eyes of circling daycare staffers assessing my overall, um, Lutheran-ishness. But we got our legs under us, and eventually I left Maya to the swim in that end of the pool for an hour. We expected this might be a shortened version of her hoped-for typical daycare morning, but I considered the prospect of a gaggle of Lutherans hugging the doubt out of Maya dubious at best. I tried to head off to a cafe and get some work done. In 59 minutes and change I stormed back through the gate, fearing the worst (translation: Maya with her first prison tattoo or a promise of marriage to that little unibrow monster, Mike, who I saw checking her out with absolutely no subtlety just before I left). Yet we can all rest easy - Maya was happy as a clam playing outside with her chums. Can't say that I've had many better moments than having her recognize me and begin to run over cheering "Da!" as I approached the outdoor scrum of toddlers and caregivers. I've since found no tats nor has Maya asked if I have a favorite Christian rock band. And with her down for a nap, I happily predict that our daycare updates will continue to unfold in the days and weeks ahead. Unless, of course, I get excommunicated or whatever Lutherans do when they figure out that you seemingly went to school with Beelzebub.
Can't even bring myself to fully comment on Dubya's speech last night. Horrid juxtaposing of unrelated disasters. The victims of 9/11 deserve so, so, so much better.
Speaking of disasters, the Green Bay Packers were shut out on Sunday, 26-0. It was the first shut out for the Pack since '91, before Favre had even moved North of the Mason-Dixon line (he was a rookie back-up QB in Atlanta that Season). And it came in their first game of this deeply ominous Season. At home. Against Da Bears. I hope Lombardi's cable service in Heaven was out.
Hope your snack time today comes with an inspiring prayer. Rock on.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Every once in a Blue Moon...
For all you music nerds out there, the new album from M. Ward is astonishingly good. Never heard of M. Ward? Hey, I'm kinda new to the party, too. But the song crafting is unique yet strangely familiar. As if this guy (M. Ward, the singer/guitarist, supported by a groovy cast of art school dweebs that can play the crap out of anything) somehow has actually been around forever. Try - just, TRY - to get the song "Magic Trick" out of your head after you just NEED to listen to it like 14 times. And "Rollercoaster" unwinds like a summer sunset. Buy this album, if you like arty farty crap that I'll put on a higher shelf nonetheless. My rating for the album "Post-War" - a gawddamn straight up A.
Maya and Sarah have been in San Diego for the last two days, doing medical conference stuff for Sarah and playtime with Nanna and Poppy for Maya. I've been working and seeing some old Seattle haunts that I adore. Like the Blue Moon Tavern where Sarah and I met. I went there Wednesday night and the bartender, Tom, is this old local 'round my age that I know from when he was a barista at Last Exit when it still was on Brooklyn Avenue and thereafter up on University Avenue. I've got a real knack for faces and usually the name to go with it, so I questioned Tom as he brought me a pint if he was indeed the bio I remembered. We caught up and then I realized that I had a picture of Maya in my wallet. I took it out and introduced Maya with the juicy morsel of truth that I met her mother at that first table up on the landing. Tom doubted me a bit, but then gave me my due. Affectionately. Plus a round of beers for the folks around me. Damn good moment at the Blue Moon. Both times. Wish y'all coulda been there.
Hope everyone's got moments aplenty this weekend. Rock on.
Maya and Sarah have been in San Diego for the last two days, doing medical conference stuff for Sarah and playtime with Nanna and Poppy for Maya. I've been working and seeing some old Seattle haunts that I adore. Like the Blue Moon Tavern where Sarah and I met. I went there Wednesday night and the bartender, Tom, is this old local 'round my age that I know from when he was a barista at Last Exit when it still was on Brooklyn Avenue and thereafter up on University Avenue. I've got a real knack for faces and usually the name to go with it, so I questioned Tom as he brought me a pint if he was indeed the bio I remembered. We caught up and then I realized that I had a picture of Maya in my wallet. I took it out and introduced Maya with the juicy morsel of truth that I met her mother at that first table up on the landing. Tom doubted me a bit, but then gave me my due. Affectionately. Plus a round of beers for the folks around me. Damn good moment at the Blue Moon. Both times. Wish y'all coulda been there.
Hope everyone's got moments aplenty this weekend. Rock on.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Saturday, September 02, 2006
And on Page 2 - WA GOP Senate candidate Mike McGavick had a half-eaten baby in the backseat when he ran that Stop sign and blew a point-one-seven...
Here's one for those of you out there that love spinning the spin doctors - the NYTimes plays up the fact that (gasp!) Karl Rove is political plutonium these days. The piece should lead those that are still interested to a changing national Congressional map. But the Bushies pray to their very-much-straight-and-oh-so-white Gawd that you don't read that far into things. Because if you really begin to get excited/enraged by the prospects of Dems this midterm regaining the House...well you'll get all uppity and that's just what the terrorists want. To be honest, I still see the GOP maintaining weakened-but-complete control through '08 when the Earth (or whatever remains of it) falls out from under them in historic terms. Whoever's in charge after the November election is screwed regardless. Be careful what you wish for, you Commies. Better that it be a GOP reduced-majority that gets bitchslapped by every single issue that comes up (and they will) through '08. Even if the Dems get elevated into the split control position, they're on the upswing. Yes, yes - their plans are nonexistent and everyone loves to pile on their losing streak yada yada yada. Seriously now - none of that shite matters. The Bushies and the GOP drove us into the ditch we're in and...wait for it...wait for it... well, Rove's the so-called Brain behind it all. Or Rove was. Maybe I'm just lapsing into a moment of hopeful reflection because of the ABSOLUTELY stunning weather GrungeCity's got goin' on this afternoon as I sit on one of the ABSOLUTELY stunning window seats at Espresso Vivace on Capitol Hill as the rest of the city is at the tangle that is Bumbershoot or U-Dub's Husky Football opener. But if you read anything beyond the tealeaves left in the manky teacup Ann Coulter and her ilk have been drinking from...sucks to be a Bushie these days. Especially if you're forced to read the ugly bits of your performance review in our Nation's indisputible paper of Record.
Hope your own momentary pronouncements don't come back to bite you in the ass. Rock on.
Hope your own momentary pronouncements don't come back to bite you in the ass. Rock on.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Question: "In what country was Mr. Rumsfeld raised?" Answer: Fredonia
Keith Olbermann eviscerated Rummy last night on "Countdown" with an Edward R. Murrow-esque warning to the Nation. The nutjobs both in and out of the Bushie orbit will surely go after Keith for drawing some pretty scary historical parallels. If you haven't watched it, you're missing an inspired (although slightly overwritten) riff. Olbermann's always had the gift, dating back to his years at ESPN. And now I think he's got some wind in his sails. I expect more of this sort o' thang from him in the months ahead.
Hope your own sails are up. Rock on.
Hope your own sails are up. Rock on.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
"What the 'Merican people need to understand is that it's not like I'm following one of them improve-eration lists of great books..."
Aside from all the world-destroying side effects, ya gotta love Dubya. Poor shmuck's forced to head down to N'Awlins and eat SERIOUS humblepie at every meal for a day. Granted, a day's nothing and he should be forced to live there until something seriously improves. But he agrees in the course of trying to spin Katrina's anniversary to talk with Brian Williams from NBC. Williams is too smug and pseudo-goodguy-ish for my taste. Yet he's got some seriously arrogant balls - just like Dubya - and that's about all it takes to succeed as a newsperson these days. If you haven't seen the interview on MSNBC or NBC, there's a little snippet on YouTube worth checking out. In whatever form, however...Dubya looks like he's lying about his "ek-a-lek-tic" reading habits. The Camus bit from recently is the basis of Williams opening up a line of questioning about Dubya's brain. So just before the Bushies get ready to push the war rhetoric before the 5th anniversary of 9/11, they try to confuse the left with a kinder, more thoughtful Dubya. Don't believe it for a second. If Brian Williams was really worth the cost of tailoring and coiffuring, he'd have read "The Stranger" and asked Dubya a tough question that only someone who'd read the book would know. Personally, I haven't read it. Which makes me a hypocrite to some, I'd imagine. But I'm not running the country and trying to lie about the books I've read while running the country deeper into the ground than at any time in our history. I'm just glad Maya's napping and giving me a minute or two to riff.
Hope your own cathartic moments arrive on time. Rock on.
Hope your own cathartic moments arrive on time. Rock on.
Friday, August 25, 2006
When Zoo Children Attack
Weh-eh-eh-ell, this morning's previously unannounced visit to the zoo with Maya had a twist I wouldn't have seen coming with a Hubble telescope mounted on my butt. For those of you that merely want a Brew Crew update (won 12-6 in a mudslide, heading to Florida to go Marlins fishin' tonite) - skip the next paragraph of parenting insight and click through. Oh, and call your Mother.
After Maya's barf-o-rama last week on the way to the Woodland Park Zoo, we'd not tried to venture back. Partly blamed, the mornings have been cloudy and comforting close to home. Partly I keep forgetting to stock the car with a bushel of napkins. Or whatever. But on this glorious morning after a newly typical freakishly early wake-up call from Maya, we got it together and made it to Woodland Park. The kids were everywhere - clustering and galavanting like a mad virus strain in a new, undefended host. Maya alternates nowadays between walking/exploring on her own and the time we carry her and talk about the things we see. We'd gotten into the Zoo quickly, and Maya even got to get fawning attention from a dangerously mature bunch of young teenagers just behind us in the line. Through the line in 5 minutes, though. In general, Maya approaches all kids now with interest, veering often toward shyness that gets as warm as an electric blanket when she's secure. And we had a few of those brief intereactions with the random passerbys on both our levels. Soon we saw the zebras, a giraffe and three hippos lounging in their swank Seattle digs. Once again, much of our time was spent walking the trails. So after the hippos, Maya was on a jaunt. I'd seen a woman behind us that I will admit having thought was probably an off-duty stripper - all volcanic push up bra, overpriced custom painted-on jeans, oversized Chanel sunglasses, and cell phone conversation trailing behind a two-year-oldish blonde sci-fi dwarf villian monster. Maya approached the minature Stepford monster. And - I kid you not - the little bitch cross-checked Maya down to the ground. No blood, but a serious scramble from all involved to pull things together. The stripper gave me a "sorry about that" and then tried in vain to scold her seriously-deranged little autistic, churlish, unskilled demon. Maya whimpered a bit as I dusted her off, but seemed in all seriousness trying to deflect the moment. And then I pulled out of my butt what I now believe is the most horrible insult I can offer at this age and not be accused of being a jerk. I told Maya that "she's a mean girl" and that "we don't play with mean boys and girls". The stripper looked like I'd just punched her in the throat. We went our way while Maya nodded along and pontificated in her babble that mean girls are bunk. Soon enough we'd headed further into the animal kingdom and re-directed entirely. Eventually we did see the stripper and freakchild again. But they slunk off on the first trail tributary that presented itself. As a big fan of the teenbeat flick "Mean Girls" I must say that I'm surprised that "mean" has the heft I felt in this Zoo-o-logical study. Regardless, Maya got in a good nap and seems unfazed. Unlike her dad.
Hope you're the smacker not the smackee in any of today's takedowns. Rock on.
After Maya's barf-o-rama last week on the way to the Woodland Park Zoo, we'd not tried to venture back. Partly blamed, the mornings have been cloudy and comforting close to home. Partly I keep forgetting to stock the car with a bushel of napkins. Or whatever. But on this glorious morning after a newly typical freakishly early wake-up call from Maya, we got it together and made it to Woodland Park. The kids were everywhere - clustering and galavanting like a mad virus strain in a new, undefended host. Maya alternates nowadays between walking/exploring on her own and the time we carry her and talk about the things we see. We'd gotten into the Zoo quickly, and Maya even got to get fawning attention from a dangerously mature bunch of young teenagers just behind us in the line. Through the line in 5 minutes, though. In general, Maya approaches all kids now with interest, veering often toward shyness that gets as warm as an electric blanket when she's secure. And we had a few of those brief intereactions with the random passerbys on both our levels. Soon we saw the zebras, a giraffe and three hippos lounging in their swank Seattle digs. Once again, much of our time was spent walking the trails. So after the hippos, Maya was on a jaunt. I'd seen a woman behind us that I will admit having thought was probably an off-duty stripper - all volcanic push up bra, overpriced custom painted-on jeans, oversized Chanel sunglasses, and cell phone conversation trailing behind a two-year-oldish blonde sci-fi dwarf villian monster. Maya approached the minature Stepford monster. And - I kid you not - the little bitch cross-checked Maya down to the ground. No blood, but a serious scramble from all involved to pull things together. The stripper gave me a "sorry about that" and then tried in vain to scold her seriously-deranged little autistic, churlish, unskilled demon. Maya whimpered a bit as I dusted her off, but seemed in all seriousness trying to deflect the moment. And then I pulled out of my butt what I now believe is the most horrible insult I can offer at this age and not be accused of being a jerk. I told Maya that "she's a mean girl" and that "we don't play with mean boys and girls". The stripper looked like I'd just punched her in the throat. We went our way while Maya nodded along and pontificated in her babble that mean girls are bunk. Soon enough we'd headed further into the animal kingdom and re-directed entirely. Eventually we did see the stripper and freakchild again. But they slunk off on the first trail tributary that presented itself. As a big fan of the teenbeat flick "Mean Girls" I must say that I'm surprised that "mean" has the heft I felt in this Zoo-o-logical study. Regardless, Maya got in a good nap and seems unfazed. Unlike her dad.
Hope you're the smacker not the smackee in any of today's takedowns. Rock on.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Holy Crap - A Happy Brewers Post!
It's taken a month and almost no one cares, but the New Brew Crew's on a slight upswing thanks to a good outing from Ben "Anybody Washed These?" Sheets last nite. They beat the Rockies to pull up to 4 games below .500 (61-65). Sounds pretty lame, I realize. But because the National League is mired in an era of broadening mediocrity, they're still in the Wildcard chase. Hell, they're only 5 games out of the lead in the Central with over a month to play. I've got only a handful of compatriots in this but...I think we're in the hunt. Prince Fielder is getting notice - a random goofball on Greenwood Avenue this weekend noticed my hat and started in with a riff about how Prince hit a smokin' game-winning RBI and "the boy can hit" (NOTICE: Anyone who sees racism in that remark should just cool your jets and look up Prince's dad, Cecil, and his longball career marks both here and in Japan). Derrick Turnbow even had a less-than-disasterous outing. I'm telling you, America - the New Brew Crew is rising. Praise be to hizzoner or such types.
Maya's claiming we gotta hit the road and run some errands. Hope your own riffs are extended all day. Rock on.
Maya's claiming we gotta hit the road and run some errands. Hope your own riffs are extended all day. Rock on.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
My blogosphere-mandated "SoaP" post, with bonus splatter
Since the rest of the bloggified world is all aflutter over "Snakes on a Plane" being released today, I'm falling in line with a campy, scary post after my morning with Maya. For those of you that have already traveled down the following road, I expect you'll empathize. For the rest of youse, if you think a plane full of snakes on crack sounds like a mess, just you wait...
Instead of "Snakes on a Plane" ("SoaP") think "Barfing Child in a Moving Car" ("BaC-MoC"). As in an explosively carsick Maya. After a big breakfast of Grape Nuts, fried egg and raspberries. Ewwww. Yes, Maya really outdid herself today with almost no notice in a parenting Pop Quiz for me. We were just north of the U-District on our way to the Woodland Park Zoo on a gorgeous Friday morning. We'd just dropped Sarah off at work. We need to get a second car BAD, but I'm waiting for the new stretch Hummer to come in and you know how that goes. Anyhoo, Maya had been quiet for a bit so I turned to check her mood. Just in time for the show to begin. I think it's called a Code Red if the barfing begins while the vehicle is moving. In Maya's case, breakfast made it more of a Code Magenta. A BIG Code Magenta. Getting off the road became Job #1 for me. Luckily our car is fully stocked with Maya cleaning supplies. So soon we were clean (enough) and after a nice long hug, Maya didn't even object to being put back in the puke seat. By the time we were back home, she'd smiled and giggled as she snacked on a graham cracker before starting to turn a bit green again just as we got home. It faded quickly, and I even tossed her in the bath to fully redirect. Except for the slight lingering smell of puke about her, you'd never think anything askew. The same's been said of Mel Gibson for years.
Hope your own horrors are equally short-term and campy today. Rock on.
Instead of "Snakes on a Plane" ("SoaP") think "Barfing Child in a Moving Car" ("BaC-MoC"). As in an explosively carsick Maya. After a big breakfast of Grape Nuts, fried egg and raspberries. Ewwww. Yes, Maya really outdid herself today with almost no notice in a parenting Pop Quiz for me. We were just north of the U-District on our way to the Woodland Park Zoo on a gorgeous Friday morning. We'd just dropped Sarah off at work. We need to get a second car BAD, but I'm waiting for the new stretch Hummer to come in and you know how that goes. Anyhoo, Maya had been quiet for a bit so I turned to check her mood. Just in time for the show to begin. I think it's called a Code Red if the barfing begins while the vehicle is moving. In Maya's case, breakfast made it more of a Code Magenta. A BIG Code Magenta. Getting off the road became Job #1 for me. Luckily our car is fully stocked with Maya cleaning supplies. So soon we were clean (enough) and after a nice long hug, Maya didn't even object to being put back in the puke seat. By the time we were back home, she'd smiled and giggled as she snacked on a graham cracker before starting to turn a bit green again just as we got home. It faded quickly, and I even tossed her in the bath to fully redirect. Except for the slight lingering smell of puke about her, you'd never think anything askew. The same's been said of Mel Gibson for years.
Hope your own horrors are equally short-term and campy today. Rock on.
Monday, August 14, 2006
The first cross I approached in an anti-war memorial on U-Dub's campus.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
The faces most of the media would choose to sum up Veterans for Peace. Myself included.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Maya did her best to catch up with the big girls on the train tracks.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Maya's view of the salmon going through the fish ladder at the Ballard Locks
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
For those of you that think there's no crime in Ballard.
That's a BB hole by my forensic sweep of the scene.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Assessing his Joementum
Apparently, I'm not a part of the so-called tyranny of the blogosphere unless I pile on the Joementum. So here goes. Lowball first off. When I saw this photo, I briefly became sterile.
Hope your own dialect is obvious to even the tardiest of all tards today. Rock on.
Hope your own dialect is obvious to even the tardiest of all tards today. Rock on.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Maya drools over one of the sour apples from the tree on our front lawn.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.
Friday, August 04, 2006
The First Bushie admits under oath, "Something did go very wrong..."
Didja ever see the movie "Kingpins" by the Farrelly Brothers? Perfectly brilliant tripe. For me the insurmountably funny joke of a bowling hustler coming from Amish country was only surmounted by the failed infamy of Woody Harrelson's character, Roy Munson. Or more accurately, the cliche` championed by the film of "pulling a Munson" or "being so horribly unlucky, stupid and naive as to threaten your actual ability to survive in the World the rest of us inhabit." On that tangent, Claude Allen should become equally memorable. Even though he won't. We should all be able to joke about "pulling an Allen" or a "pulling a Claude". If you don't recognize the name - Claude Allen was not the low-wattage character actor that disappeared around 1980 after starring in such films as "Battle Stations" (that's Akins, and he's dead). No, this vaguely memorable Claude Allen was Dubya's Chief Domestic Policy Advisor. Until he got busted and fired. Before that, he was even a former Federal Appeals Court Judge nominee (just one step below the Supremes). Everyone given the chance to weigh in on Claude's scuttled nomination deemed him beneath consideration and unsupportable. In other news, Claude was also a sneaky shoplifter with a wacky sense of his own superiority. Basically, Claude would head into Target and buy a bunch of crap. Then he would go to his car and dump the crap to head right back in or he'd wait a few days. Then he'd put the receipt in his pocket and go back to Target, where he'd grab the same things off the shelf and walk up to the "Exchanges/Returns" counter to steal back his money on the crap he walked out with earlier. As if he were the smartest crook in the World. Or that the thought of cameras watching his every move never crossed his mind. Makes you wonder what sort of thefts this chump pulled off at our expense at work. In short, Claude is the embodiment of the Bushies's attempts at domestic policy. Rob, rob, rob. Expect no one is smart enough to see what you're sure as shite doing right there out in the open. And then break down like a little bitch on the stand - which he most certainly did as embodied in the quote in this posting's title. Oh, and for those of you now paying attention that hadn't heard of this creep before, he got probation. After getting cold busted, stealing up to the level of a felony, and getting fired because he was a political detriment. That Claude. Pulled another Allen. Or pulled his Allen. However the lexicon adopts it...that shmuck's a cliche` waiting for a moment to cross over into infamy.
Hope your own sentencing today is also delivered well before Happy Hour. Rock on.
Hope your own sentencing today is also delivered well before Happy Hour. Rock on.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Count out Floyd
So for all those bicycle racing fans pining away for the anchoring of their sport's credibility here in the US o' A, Floyd Landis is your Shoeless Joe Jackson. Except that he's guilty. Or wait - we're all programmed to cart out that whole "innocent until proven guilty" chestnut at times like this. That's so pre-9/11. Bottom line for Floyd Landis (who's name I've found is most delightful when pronounced employing the style used by that "are you ready to rumble" fight annoucer cheeseball) - if the Tour's test comes back as a positive for synthetic testosterone, he loses this year's Title and can't race for two whole years. A frickin' death sentence in the sport. Yikes. If you care, find a Mennonite church and lay, ah, what do I know...a corn husk good voodoo doll. Because that's about the best anyone can do for the poor bastard at the moment.
While most of the country swelters, Seattle's been putting on its best face these last few days. Sorry 'bout that. Cool at night, cloudy in the morning, clearish later in the day. Highs in the 70s. But don't come out here. I'm obligated by membership in the dark forces of exclusivist liberalism to say that it rains all the time out here. Probably not your sort of place. Even though I'm enjoying a perfectly lovely early afternoon out front of the original Caffe Ladro on Queen Anne where I hung (or done hanged) my hat for years while I lived in the neighborhood in the 90s. We like our new place up north - call the neighborhood Blue Ridge if you know of such things. North of Ballard. We've got a great park just up the street (Carkeek Park - or " Carkeek Parkeek" as I prefer) that we never knew about. It's unbelievably raw while nonetheless fully traversed by some great trails. It feels more like the Olympic Peninsula than any park in Seattle that I ever knew. Running along the trails rocks. We can't take along our beloved BOB jogging stroller for Maya since I ran it over with the Volvo. Damn thing was taunting me. In my defense - I actually "backed" over it. Not realizing it was back there. But let that be a lesson to all the kids out there that I know tune in for my safety tips and general humankind user's (or humankind's user) manual pithiness. Please, never, ever back up. Think like that hypothetical shark somebody mentioned recently in either a movie or on the internets or was it the Discovery Channel so we're supposed to take it as one of nature's truisms. If you stop moving forward and you're a shark, you die. Oh, and stay in school.
Hope your own paths today include entirely avoidable obstacles. Rock on.
While most of the country swelters, Seattle's been putting on its best face these last few days. Sorry 'bout that. Cool at night, cloudy in the morning, clearish later in the day. Highs in the 70s. But don't come out here. I'm obligated by membership in the dark forces of exclusivist liberalism to say that it rains all the time out here. Probably not your sort of place. Even though I'm enjoying a perfectly lovely early afternoon out front of the original Caffe Ladro on Queen Anne where I hung (or done hanged) my hat for years while I lived in the neighborhood in the 90s. We like our new place up north - call the neighborhood Blue Ridge if you know of such things. North of Ballard. We've got a great park just up the street (Carkeek Park - or " Carkeek Parkeek" as I prefer) that we never knew about. It's unbelievably raw while nonetheless fully traversed by some great trails. It feels more like the Olympic Peninsula than any park in Seattle that I ever knew. Running along the trails rocks. We can't take along our beloved BOB jogging stroller for Maya since I ran it over with the Volvo. Damn thing was taunting me. In my defense - I actually "backed" over it. Not realizing it was back there. But let that be a lesson to all the kids out there that I know tune in for my safety tips and general humankind user's (or humankind's user) manual pithiness. Please, never, ever back up. Think like that hypothetical shark somebody mentioned recently in either a movie or on the internets or was it the Discovery Channel so we're supposed to take it as one of nature's truisms. If you stop moving forward and you're a shark, you die. Oh, and stay in school.
Hope your own paths today include entirely avoidable obstacles. Rock on.
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