Hello, Kitty
Boy howdy, Sam hates taking his medicine. Too bad for him I'm many times both his size and strength. Ha! Man triumphs over kitty. Too bad his little walnut brain will never comprehend the long-term good of the short-term unpleasantness that is his medicinal elixirs.

I feel like Nixon's Head yelling at Checkers's Head. "Shut up, damn it!"

In Other News
Skeeter's nuts. *sigh*

Carthage
The Conchshell has written that were her life to ever be made into a movie, the glorious Ms. Parker Posey would assuredly portray her. The only rational reaction to this is sudden and unspeakable violence.

As Robert Heinlein wrote in his seminal novel Starship Troopers, "Ask the city fathers of Carthage if violence ever solved anything." The implication is that you cannot ask the Carthaginians, as their city was wiped from the face of the earth and the ground salted by the victorious Romans. The movie Starship Troopers, while being an almost ideal guy movie, has many problems and is not a fair portrayal of the original novel, which is both intelligent and erudite. One thing the movie did well, though, was adopt the Carthage example. The line is changed to "Ask the city fathers of Hiroshima if violence ever solved anything." Unfortunately, many Americans are ignorant barbarians and know nothing of the fate of Carthage; by changing the example to Hiroshima, the movie's stewards have retained the spirit of the quote while also making it more accessible to the average imbecile. Good work.

There are levels of violence. If you simply annoy me, you get the proverbial brick to the face. If I merely hate you, I talk about fire and whether or not to help put said fire out; thus, "If Bill Clinton were on fire, I'd go get marshmellows." If I am so angry that I can't see straight, that's when I start talking about unspeakable violence. That's when I'm truly offended.

Blog-o-Rama
Recently, I have learned that two more of my friends maintain weblogs. Below are the blogs I check at least several times each week, often more than once each day.

Skeeter's Letters From the Pedestal
The Watergirl's Rant & Roar with The Watergirl
The Mountain of Love's The Mountain of Love
The Evil Princess's Live As If You Were To Die Tomorrow
Neutral Man's Brad's Continuing Rant
The Flying Dutchman's Detour

You are of course reading The Last Angry Man's The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society

I'd read Saturday Night Latham's untitled blog if it was more than just a big tease. The same goes for Daddy Dylweed's Transmissions From the Obscure.

Crap
Neil Diamond

H-A-N
Have a tragic night.

Your weight in gold and two thoroughbred ponies to the man who brings me the head of Bill O'Reilly.

Neutral Man
My buddy Brad (a.k.a. Neutral Man) has moved back into his parents' house in Holland, Michigan. As articulated in his recently founded blog, he is less than thrilled by this development. Take heart, Neutral Man! You're a licensed and bonded teacher; it is only a matter of time before enough blue-hairs drop dead in homeroom that some district... somewhere... has no choice but to hire you. Well, either hire you or promote the gym teacher/football coach to head of the social studies department. My money's on you, Brado!

Also, get your sulking arse to work on FreshMan. I demand FreshMan!

Crap
Chevelle

H-A-N
Have a manipulated night.

American Wedding - Updated!
Yesterday, I attended the marriage of Eric Salenski, whom I've known my entire life, and Jodi Griggs, now Mrs. Jodi Salenski. A good time was had by all, and I can now say I've attended my first hippie wedding. Hippie wedding, you ask? Hippie wedding, I say. First off, the presiding minister was a woman (and to think, young Eric grew up Catholic with me at Holy Redeemer). There was a reading of a passage from The Prophet, another from a Hebrew text (Biblical? unknown), and a poem. The poem was actually quite good. At the end, the minister said, "And Jodi, you may now kiss your husband." Damn hippies.

The reception was an extraordinary Who's Who of Grand Blanc. The following is the most complete accounting of the attendees I can remember off the top of my head (I'm certain I've missed people, and I'm sorry about that):

Mr. & Mrs. Eric and Jodi Salenski (Jodi Griggs)
Mr. & Mrs. Bob and Rose Salenski
Mr. & Mrs. Jeremy and Sarah Hedden (Sarah Salenski)
Tyler Hedden (baby)
Mrs. Bernie Walkush
Mr. & Mrs. Elbert and Kristen ? (Kristen Walkush)
Pam Walkush
and boyfriend
Mr. & Mrs. "Iron Mike" and Kay Lubert
Mr. & Mrs. Dan and Irene Emeott
Luke Emeott
Brian Emeott
Doug Emeott
Mr. & Mrs. Tom and (I forget) Anderson
Matt Anderson
Dave Anderson
Katie Anderson
David Chang (M.D., Ph.D.)
Mr. & Mrs. Pat and Norma Oakes
Katie Kephart
John Kephart
David Whitman
Mr. & Mrs. Don and Debbie Lougheed (honorary GBers)
Mr. & Mrs. Norm and Sherry Sparling
Mr. & Mrs. Mike and (I forget) Bruckner
Mr. & Mrs. Chris and Elizabeth Wise (Elizabeth Siler)
Ethan Roelle
Lisa (last name unknown, but clearly from GB)
Jackie Dyball
Mr. & Mrs. Kevin and Kathy Keener
Mr. & Mrs. Keith and Kay Fritzsching
Jason Taft

Also attending the wedding and reception was Eric's former roommate the one and only Swimmer Girl. It occured to me when I saw her that I had assumed I'd never see her again, and not unreasonably. Neat! When she hugged me, she whispered into my ear, "I'm Laura." As if I could have possibly forgotten. By the way, she's still wicked hot. And having a wicked hot girl pull you toward her by your tie is never a bad thing. Nor is holding her around the waist and dancing with her.

Crap
The Calling

H-A-N
Have a bewitching night.

Johnny Confident
A rare excerpt from my journal, Tuesday, August 3, 2004. "Notice my willingness to inflict myself upon a girl I purportedly like."

Hello, Kitty
I have to tell you, the shaved patch on Sam's front left leg is really bothering me. It just looks wrong. Here's his fur, all soft and thick and white, and then - BOOM! - there's his leg, looking extraordinarily small and frail. Blasted veterinarians; the shaved patch on his neck was bad enough, and I couldn't even see that unless I looked for it. Hang in there, Sam.

I think he's feeling better. Every day, he puts up more of a fight when it's time for his medicine. We won't be in trouble until he starts biting, though. Then we'll have to get creative.

Movies to See
The Manchurian Candidate*
Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle
The Village
Alien Vs. Predator (not yet released)
Garden State (only on the fancy pants coasts)

*A multinational corporation, "Manchurian Global"? Spare me your antiglobalization clap-trap, you dirty hippies. I'll take the Chi-Coms any day. Now those are some truly evil bastards. Here's the slogan: "Red China - we put the Manchurian in Manchurian Candidate!"

Boy howdy, do I love Green Day.

9/11 Circus & Vote For Kodos
I am not the world's strongest proponent of the 9/11 Commission. As you can glean from the "9/11 Circus" moniker, I am of the opinion that the Commissioners hurt their own credibility by granting so many high profile media interviews concurrently with the Commission's polarizing public hearings; they seemed to be more interested in grandstanding than in carrying out their mandate in a serious and sober manner. Nevertheless, the Commission's work was very important and as such I am presently reading the authorized version of its final report. I am not so naive as to think that the war on terror is not already a politicized issue and won't be used for political ends during the general election.

That said, I am genuinely distressed at Senator Kerry's assertion that President Bush is moving too slowly to impliment the Commission's recommendations. For Pete's sake, Congress hasn't even held any hearings yet! Now, you all know that I am not a fan of Congress (remember my charming proposal to repeal Article I of the U.S. Constitution and install the cast of Scrubs as the legislative branch?), but one cannot perform a reorganization of government as sweeping as that recommended by the 9/11 Commission without a public debate and without the people's elected representatives. The 9/11 Commissioners, for all their potential wisdom, are ten unelected citizens; the Senators and Representatives, for all their myriad individual and collective faults, are the elected spokesmen of the people. Though he is desirous of the Presidency, one would except Mr. Kerry, as the junior United States Senator from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, to understand that.

Crap
Bloodhound Gang

Again apropos of last weekend in the Big Apple, when I actually drank wine...
H-A-N
Have a bubbly night.

New Amsterdam
Despite the oppressive humidity and sleeping on an air mattress, I wish I was back in Manhatten right now. Make no mistake, I still hate New York, but I had a really good time last weekend. I met a bunch of cool kids, got to spend a ton of time with Skeeter, and saw the sights. (I could spend two solid days in the American Museum of Natural History and never get bored.)

Hello, Kitty
I took Sam back to the vet today, just as they requested, two weeks after his initial appointment. I have to call in the morning for the results of his blood work. (Are his kidneys getting better or worse? Liver? Heart?) Unlike last time, he reverted to his usual pattern of behavior when confronted with his carrier: he peed. Which means that when I set him on my lap in the waiting room, I got cat pee on my pants (they have since been washed). I suppose I could just leave him in the carrier until we get to the examination room, but he hates it in there. I'd rather be covered in cat pee than make him stay in there a moment longer than he absolutely must. He's put on a little weight, which is a good thing, and the doctor gave him some special medicinal food which should help his liver. So he pooped in his carrier on the way home. Thanks, Sammy!

Crap
Iron Maiden

H-A-N
Have a psychic night.

Democracy in Action
Man oh man, do I love voting. It's August, which means only primaries and local issues, but I still love voting just the same. Going to the polling place, seeing the friendly workers (invariably elderly) check my name on the voter rolls, solemnly approaching the booth. I could vote every day of the week and never get tired of it. My polling place is my grade school, McGrath Elementary, which is always fun to visit; last time the big show was in the small gym, but today we were in the big gym. Schweet. And today, McGrath's old principal, Mr. Swaim, was one of the volunteers. Neat! He was always a short guy (maybe 5'4"), but I haven't seen him since like 1990, and it was weird to tower of him as I did.

The best joke in the world: President Nixon's Head. "Morbo congratulates our gargantuan cyborg president. May death come quickly to his enemies."

New Amsterdam
The day after I leave New York City, the Statue of Liberty reopens. My timing is impeccable.

Crap
Anti-Flag

H-A-N
Have a formal night.

To the 5 Boroughs (Shameless Self-Promotion)
To all the kids I met this weekend in New York City: you seem like a worldly and erudite lot. As such, you'd love The Newsletter! To subscribe - fo' free! - contact sonofthenewsletter@yahoo.com. And do yourself the favor of reviewing The Newsletter Online. Hours of fun.

The Queue
Bernard Goldberg, Arrogance
Michael Ledeen and William Lewis, Debacle
Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot *left in NYC at Skeeter's request*
Steve Martin, Shopgirl
the 9/11 Commission, Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States *airport impulse buy*
Thomas P.M. Barnett, The Pentagon's New Map
Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch
Tobias Wolff, This Boy's Life
Tobias Wolff, Old School
Lucinda Rosenfeld, Why She Went Home *reread*
Alistair MacLean, raid my dad's collection
Leslie Charteris, raid the library

Speaking of Libraries
So, I went to the library on Thursday. Note that when I say "went to the library" I mean the library of my youth, Grand Blanc's own McFarlan Library. If I meant the library at school I'd say "I was in the library today." So anyway, I went to the library to check out a book on heraldy and another on the history of flags. (I have peculiar interests. Sue me.) Anyway, there was a guy ahead of me, a well-built man in his sixties, dressed in buiness casual attire. The librarian, while stamping the man's books, made some innocent, inane comment. Smalltalk. So Mr. Business Casual sez, "Well, I shouldn't have to work past 65, but I do." As the kids say, wtf? The librarian just smiled awkwardly. What else could he do? He was just trying to pass the time while stamping the guy's books, and the guy unloads his problems on him. It was entirely inappropriate. You can unload on your bartender, dude, but leave the poor librarian alone. He doesn't need your problems.

Hello, Kitty
Great Poseidon, Sam must have been ignored while I was away. He's looking better (the heart and liver medicines are working), but was anxious for attention as soon as I walked in the door. Poor Sammy, I doubt he was given any cheese all weekend. Of course, he'll hate me when I take him back to the vet this week, but that's only because he has a walnut-sized brain and cannot appreciate the necessity of short-term unhappiness for long-term health.

Vetting the 'Vette
This weekend, without consulting my mother, my father finalized the purchase of a fixer-upper '76 Corvette. This is the second automobile he has bought in the last four months, neither time discussing the purchase with my mom, nor even mentioning it to her before buying the vehicle. Meine Vater is like an instruction manuel for what not to do in a marriage.

His cars, from most to least recently purchased (all Chevrolets):
1976 Corvette Stingray (2004)
1995 Caprice Stationwagon "Woody" (2004)
1995 Impala SS (1999)
1995 Lumina (1995)
1986 Celebrity "the Mousemobile" (1993)
1988 Astro "The Last Angry Van" (1988)
1985 Camero Z28 IROC (1985)

Now, bear in mind that only one of these vehicles fits in our garage, the Camero, which has not been drivable since the summer of 2000. The remainder of the garage is devoted to various Camero-related apparatus.

Crap
Five For Fighting

Apropos of spending three nights in New York City and going drinking each night...
H-A-N
Have a bombed night.

Fucking Nazis
Make no mistake, I fucking hate Nazis. (Goose-stepping pricks.) Nevertheless, Nazis are interesting and, as has been mentioned before by a great many others, they make for great cinema. Every hero worth his salt must at one point or another fight Nazis. To wit: Raiders of the Lost Ark and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. (What was the problem with Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, you ask? Not a single Nazi got punched.) What's great about Mike Mignola's Hellboy is even after all these years the fucking Nazis are still neck-deep in the occult: Seed of Destruction, Wake the Devil, and especially Conqueror Worm. And what makes The Blues Brothers not just a good flick but the Greatest Motion Picture of All Time? They battle fucking Nazis! Lately, I've seen several films about post-war Nazi hunting:

The Boys From Brazil
The Statement
The Odessa File

Thought you'd gotten away with it, didn't you, Eichmann? Glass cage for you, motherfucker! Fucking Nazis.

Cop: "They won their court case, so they're marching today."
Jake: "Who?
Cop: "The fucking Nazi Party."
Elwood: "Illinois Nazis."
Jake: "I hate Illinois Nazis."

Boy howdy, with Star Trek: Enterprise teetering on the verge of cancelation, it's a good thing Rick Berman won't let any of these people anywhere near the show. Michael Piller was vital to making The Next Generation great and co-created both Deep Space Nine and Voyager, though he left both shows early. Ira Steven Behr was the man who made Deep Space Nine the best of all Star Treks; he is a genuine hero to me. Rene Echevarria and Robert Hewitt Wolfe were two of Behr's strongest writers and Wolfe was Behr's writing partner. These are four of the men who made Star Trek what it was in the 1990s.

In the 1990s, Star Trek: The Next Generation was a national phenomenon and both DS9 and even Voyager had better ratings than Enterprise. So, why is it Berman has rejected their help and brought in a new crew of inferior writers? The former Bald Mountain likes to say that I'm too hard on Berman. I counter that though Berman has done good things for Star Trek, they are all in the past and his recent efforts have fallen short.

Good Berman
{a} 1987-1994: made The Next Generation great
{b} 1993: created Deep Space Nine
{c} 1996: Star Trek: First Contact (VII), the second best of all the films

Bad Berman
{a} 1995: created Voyager
{b} 1999: criticized the best parts of Deep Space Nine (the only negative things he's even said about any Star Trek)
{c} 1998, 2002: Star Trek: Insurrection (IX) and Star Trek: Nemesis (X) were terrible
{d} 2001-present: Enterprise is not as good as it could be and should be, and none of the writers who made TNG and DS9 great are on staff

Evil
Medieval
Evel Knievel

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
It's a slow news summer. What do you want from me? Hmmm, while I certainly still appreciate the myriad charms of Ms. Deschanel, perhaps weekly is a tad too frequent for Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Days. After all, it's not like we ever have Parker Posey Appreciation Days, and she's Parker Posey, for crying out loud!

Parker Posey Appreciation Day
Ms. Posey was excellent in Laws of Attraction, by the way. I saw it primarily for her, but it turned out to be quite entertaining on its other merits, too. And even though Blade II was way better than Blade (how could it not have been), she is still the single best reason to see Blade: Trinity. (And that's saying a lot considering the film also has Ryan Reynolds. "Berg" forever!)

I saw Blade one night with Danny Boy and Nicky the Greek during either our freshman/sophomore or sophomore/junior summer. We rented the tape, because this was before DVDs were the medium of choice. I thought it was one of the worst movies I had ever seen and went to great lenghts to mock them for their choice. Fast forward to this winter and the impending release of Hellboy; quite eager to see the film, I decided to get something of a preview by renting Blade II, also directed by Guillermo del Toro. Hee hee, lots of things got blown up goooooood. So, having now enjoyed Blade II, I decided to give Blade another chance. It was not as bad as I had remembered, but that is not to say it was any good. But, as long as I've already seen I and II, I might as well go ahead and see Blade: Trinity. Plus, as I said, Parker Posey!

Crap
Pink Floyd (Putting the "P.F." in The Newsletter's "B.A.P.F. Lives.")

Have A Night
Have a trusting night.

Song of the Week
Apropos of both last weekend's birthday and this weekend's sojourn, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" from Have A Ball (originally by the late, great John Denver).

A short skirt,
A Gimmes shirt,
A Jones Soda,
Ain't life grand?

Pete Foster talking about Margaret Eastman? Is he still hopelessly in love with Noel Kincaid, or is he now hopelessly in love with Margaret? I really need to do some serious work on the outline for In Search of the Perfect Lesbian. Maybe just plot it as "In Search of the Perfect Lesbian" and get it done as a short story before I go any farther. Walk before I run.

One of the ideas I've always had in the back of my head is that in the course of Margaret's pursuit of Kari Putterman, where Pete serves as Sancho Panza to her Don Quixote, Pete will get over his long-festering love for Noel. And then Margaret and Pete realize they are pretty perfect for each other. I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, that seems way too easy. On the other hand, stranger things have happened and they already fight like a married couple. On the gripping hand, since Pete Foster is, among all the kids in the Rebel Black Dot Society, the most direct avatar of myself, maybe he is just destined to be alone forever. (Fuck you, I just had my brithday, I'm allowed to sulk.)

The Queue*
Bernard Goldberg, Arrogance
Michael Ledeen and William Lewis, Debacle
Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot *IN PROGRESS*
Steve Martin, Shopgirl
Thomas P.M. Barnett, The Pentagon's New Map
Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch
Tobias Wolff, This Boy's Life
Tobias Wolff, Old School
Lucinda Rosenfeld, Why She Went Home *reread*
Miguel Cervantes, Don Quixote *pipe dream*
pretty much everything by Alistair MacLean
ditto Leslie Charteris

*"The Queue" consists solely of books I have at my immediate disposal. The all-time list of books I have always meant to read is nigh endless.

Things I Love From 1986*
Sammy (Samuel Bubbles Sink Cat Wilson)
the Mousemobile
Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home

*That are still around.

Think about the words "Governor Schwarzenegger." Let them roll off your tongue. We live in a hell of a country; a poor kid with huge muscles from the boondocks of Austria can arrive on our shores with nothing to his name but his freakish physique and end up being elected governor of our largest state based primarily on his protrayals of an unstoppable killer robot in the movies.

repetition for continuity
Have A Day
Have a last day.

Have A Night
Have a first night.

Testing... Testing...
It now seems that the current problem was not with Blogger (my apologies to the douchebags as Pyra Labs), nor even with my dad's p.o.s. HAL. The problem, as I probably should have suspected from the first, lies in AOL's inherent crappiness. Seriously, has there ever been a worse company?

It sickens me to think that AOL owns the rights to Batman, Superman, and the rest of the DC pantheon.

Testing... Testing...
The rain in Spain falls mostly on the plain. Hmm, it is entirely possible that the fault has all along been with my father's p.o.s. HAL....

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

I was driving behind a truck the other day and in the center of the rear windshield was a sticker. The sticker featured an Americna flag and next to it the words "These colors don't run." Now, this was a late model truck; so, this sticker was not just a holdover from the Gulf War. The really fun part was that the colors of the flag were quite faded.

Manfred von Richthofen
Herr Richthofen, known to history as the Red Baron, was credited during the Great War with shooting down eighty Allied (French, British, Candian, and American) aeroplanes, more than any other pilot on either side. At the time of his death in 1918 (shot down either by a Canadian pilot or Australian anti-aircraft gunners), he was a mere twenty-five years old, the same age I am now. He may have fought on "the wrong side," but still he is remembered. Were I to be flattened by a bus im the next few minutes, I would quickly be forgotten.

I said to Skeeter last night, "A quarter century and I have nothing to show for it." To which she replied, "Don't be so melodramatic."

At the Summit on Saturday, the Plate told me I was about the experience a golden birthday. "Golden" not because I was turing twenty-five, but because I was turning twenty-five on July 25, the first, last, and only time in my life the date and my age will line up thusly. A month earlier, he had experinced his own golden birthday on June 25. Well, hurray for us.

And yeah, I'm awesome! I mean, did the Red Baron ever publish his own crummy little newsletter? I think not! Or if he did, it wasn't The Newsletter. Ha! Point for me.

On the plus side, I am now Constitutionally eligible for election to the United States House of Representatives. Five years until I can be a United States Senator!

The City That Never Sleeps
I am flying to New York on Freitag to spend the weekend with Skeeter. The poor devil. Sites and attractions I want to see: the Natural History Museum (last time, I spent our entire visit just in the dinosaur room), Theodore Roosevelt's birthplace (it's an official National History Site!), and the site of the World Trade Center/the cornerstone for the new Freedom Tower. When I mentioned this last destination, Skeeter wrote, "Really?" I have no idea what she meant by that. I sincerely hope she does not share the attitude many New Yorkers have articulated that only they suffered on 9/11 and that no one else in the country was affected.

On my very first trip to New York City in the mid-/late-'90s (this will be my third), my family went to the World Trade Center. It was there than my brother and I encountered the Monocled Man. He was a distinguished older gentleman, bald in the way that sez, "Hi, I'm a Viscount," neatly dressed in a blazer and turleneck sweater, and sporting, honest to Bog, a monocle. And on the Monocled Man, that monocle looked completely natural. I have been to the Gettysburg National Cemetary and toured the battlefield. I have been to Arlington National Cemetary, where I almost cried. I have visited the Little Bighorn and seen the headstones. I have been to Fort Ticonderoga, the Saratoga battlefield, and the reconstruction of Fort William Henry. I desire to one day visit Hawai'i not for the beaches and the sea breezes, but to pay my respects to the crew of the Arizona.

I am not terribly fond of the "Ground Zero" designation - to me it seems disrepectful to those who died at the Pentagon and in Pennsylvania - but to me visiting the site seems both natural and proper. Men and women and children died there, most of them innocently, many of them heroically, some of them intentionally, and it is important to stop and say, "I remember."

The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society is suspended until those bastards at Pyra Labs/Google get their heads out of their arses.

Fucking Blogger! Why can't I I use the fucking ENTER key?! I can't live like this, all in one long, continuous, run-on sentence. It's inhuman! It's inhumane! With Bog as my witness, I will destroy those misspelling douchebags at Google and their lapdogs at Pyra Labs!

Last weekend, I was in upstate New York watching the Conchshell visit the Mountain at opera camp. This weekend, I'm heading down to Ann Arbor for the second ever Newsletter Summit. The next weekend, I'm flying to NYC to finally honor Skeeter's request to come visit her. In August, I hope to have some time to just sit on my arse and recreate.

Vote For Kodos
I want you to take a moment and think about this: former Assistant for National Security Sandy Berger is accused of stealing classified documents from the National Archive. (Whether it was intential or not, it was still unlawful taking, which to me means stealing.) This is a potentially serious criminal matter. Yet, most of the media attention has focused on Democratic suspicions about the timing of the release of this information. Are we to believe that the timing of this leak is a more serious matter than the improper distribution of sensitive government documents? Just for one moment, close your eyes and try to imagine what the media would be saying if instead of Mr. Berger, it had been current Assistant for National Security Dr. Condoleezza Rice would had unlawfully removed and then lost or destroyed classified materials. Do you honestly think the media would be talking about the timing of the leak rather than the act itself? Think about the bias that colors the news you receive.

Fun!
Hamburger. Hamburglar. Sandy Berger. Sandy Burglar?

Crap
Hot Water Music

Have A Day
Have a last day.

Colin Powell sez "Get Lost!"
Well, it's official, I'm a loser. I got my results back for the Foreign Service Written Examination and my score was not sufficient to advance me to the Foreign Service Oral Assessment. By Lucifer's beard! To be honest, I did so well on the practice exams that I didn't really consider not advancing as a serious possibility. Well, poo. Looks like a bleak future of crushing monotony for me, wasting the formerly precious hours of my life behind the counter at a Kwik-E-Mart. *sigh* I had a future once. Now I suppose I'll have to actually buckle down and improve myself. Curses!

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Can you see the Deschanel Difference? Elf was hilarious. Anchorman was dreadful (almost as bad as Starsky & Hutch). Both were Will Ferrell vehicles; so, what was the difference? Why was one grand and the other pathetic? One word: NARWHAL! Another possibility is that only one of those films co-starred Ms. Deschanel. Of course, I mean no offense to Christina Applegate, but the simple fact is that she just isn't Zooey Deschanel and thus does not bring any of that trademark Deschanel goodness to her roles. On the other hand, it's just as well that Ms. Deschanel was not in Anchorman, since when not dressed up as an oversized elf, I think it is obvious to one and all that Mr. Ferrell is just a tad too old for her; or, at least a tad too old for it not to be creepy.

The only thing I didn't like about King Arthur is that Clive Owen is almost exactly twice as old as Keira Knightley.

Crap
Home Grown

H-A-D
Have a graduation day.

Fly Me to the Moon
Thirty-five years ago today, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin demonstrated Man's contempt for the impossible by becoming the first men to set foot on the Moon. From the plaque they laid: "We came in peace for all Mankind."

P.O.S.
My parents are the worst people I've ever known. I went to work today, while my dad took the day off; I went to class after work, while my mom sat and read. Once I got home, they dispatched me to go and fetch dinner from Little Caesar's, despite the fact that Mom left the house later in the morning and got home earlier in the evening, and despite the fact that Dad spend the whole day at home. I was the one who had to go back out. Once back home, I took out the garbage while Mom read and Dad socked in O'Reilly. Then, I unloaded the dishwasher and did the dishes, again while they recreated. And even though he had the whole day off today, in addition to most of the previous two months, tomorrow my dad wants me to go pick up some nut and bolts (literally) for him.

My kids won't just grow up not knowing their Grandpa Wilson, the fascist puke; the best solution may be for them to not know their Grandma Wilson, lazy pig that she is, either. How in the hell did the Mountain and the LAW end up as cool as they are given their misbegotten parentage?

Crap
Good Charlotte

H-A-D
Have a bad hair day.

Note to self: if I ever have a problem that I just can't solve, I should kidnap and threaten to behead a Filipino truck driver. The government of the Phillipines will do whatever I say to get the guy back unharmed. Sweet!

Seriously, what in the name of all that's dark and profane is wrong with France? And here's the proof that I'm not just an irrational, foaming-at-the-mouth Francophobe, "Freedom Fries." The French Republic might as well go ahead and change the country's motto to "Liberte. Fraternite. Genocide."

I, Moviegoer
I am of two minds about the new film I, Robot. On the one hand, having read Isaac Asimov's seminal book I, Robot, I am offended that some movie studio jerks have decided to ditch the short stories with their glorious subtleties and complexities in favor of a traditional Frankenstein story; make no mistake, any time science runs amok, somebody is ripping off Frankenstein and Mary Shelley really should be getting a dime. On the other hand, the film looks like it might be a nice bit of brainless entertainment. On the gripping hand, it is directed by Alex Proyas, twisted genius behind The Crow and Dark City.

Plus, Bridget Moynahan is pretty enough to make you forget your own name.

Hello, Kitty
What really frightens me is that I no longer cringe when Sammy stumbles. He stumbles every few steps, staggers under even the most gentle petting, and loses his footing regularly while climbing. Initially upon moving back home, this shocked and horrified me; now it is simply the order of things. He's such an old, old cat. I won't let Mom and Dad put you to sleep, Sammy, not unless you're suffering. I promise.

Tomorrow we leave on the long drive to see the Mountain of Love at opera camp (the Seagle Music Colony). We're taking the Conchshell with us; so, we won't see my brother. But at least the LAW is coming and it will be nice to see her.

Crap
Goo Goo Dolls

H-A-D
Have an institutional day.

Let's face facts: Welcome Interstate Managers is just about the greatest album of all time.

"Hey Julie, look what they're doing to me,
Trying to trip me up, trying to wear me down,
Julie, I swear it's so hard to bear it,
And I'd never make it through without you around.
No, I'd never make it through without you around."

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
For no good reason, I dislike Cameron Crowe. I mean, I've only ever seen two of his movies, and my opinion of them is divided right down the middle: I really like Fast Times at Ridgemont High (writer) and I really don't like Say Anything (writer and director). So, with a 1-1 record, I can only go with my gut. And my gut sez bad things. Nevertheless, we've reached the point where I'm running out of movies with Ms. Deschanel that I have not seen. So, I may be compelled to rent Almost Famous, despite my gut's assertion that I won't like it.

Vote For Kodos
I should check my Gmail email more often. On June 14, I posted the following item under "Vote For Kodos":

This is an honest question, and I hope someone emails me with an answer: Why is President Clinton's JD from Yale considered a mark of personal intelligence, while President Bush's MBA from Harvard is not?

Much to my surprise, I actually got a response from Skeeter, who defended President Clinton's intelligence and belittled President Bush's lack of same thusly:

Clinton actually is smart. And he happens to have a Yale JD. Bush is dum. In spite of his MBA.

For my part, I can only assume that she meant "dumb."

Misspelling aside, the thrust of her argument is President Clinton's JD is considered a mark of intelligence because he is intelligent and President Bush's MBA is not considered a mark of intelligence because he is not intelligent. The logic is inescapable... not so much. *sigh* Still, I am impressed that someone actually bothered to respond and I apologize for not responding in a more timely fashion.

The Wars of the Roses
Now that's a conflict worth dying in!

{There was a very cathartic post here. It was nothing worth reading, but as it was cathartic, I feel better now.}

I figured out what's worse than spending twelve hours out of the house at work and then class and coming home to find Fox News blaring at high volume from every TV: having the day off with my father about the house.

Crap
Uncle Kracker

H-A-D
Have a fine day.

The Once and Future King
Darth Vater and I saw King Arthur this evening. It was a very different take on the legend, even more different than I had anticipated, but I loved it. Antoine Fuqua: 3 for 3 (Training Day, Tears of the Sun, and now King Arthur). And of course at the heart of any telling of the Arthurian mythology, no matter how demystified, must be King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, brought to life by Clive Owen, British Badass, and Keira Knightley, the second most beautiful girl in the world.

Arthur (Arturius)
Lancelot (not du Lac)
Galahad
Gawain
Tristan
Bors
Dagonet

Me: Am I an Arthur or a Lancelot?
Skeeter: you know
Me: Crap.

Tuesday's housekeeping...
Crap
Kid Rock

H-A-D
Have a pugnacious day.

The Hyperion Guard (founding roster)
The Futurist
Horus
Firecracker
Human Dynamo (III)
White Cross
The Lycian

The Hyperion Guard (current roster)
The Futurist
Pax*
Celera
Helios
The Lycian
Challenger
Agent M & The Brick
Abstract Man
Cold Fusion

*Formerly the Human Dynamo (III), he became Pax after joining/being consumed by a piece of advanced technology, possibly of extraterrestrial or extradimensional origin.

Casey: "What happened to your values?"
Dan: "I find that maintaining them is a lot of work. I take a day off now and then."
Casey: "You tale a vacation from doing the right thing?"
Dan: "Yeah. I don't loot store fronts or anything, but once in a while when I consider the effort it takes to diligently adhere to a moral compass, I take myself out of the line-up and rest for the next day."

More Peril!
It turns out that when my dad gave the guys at the shop their instructions, he said simply, "Fix the leak" in the power steering system. The result is that the Mousemobile fought me all the way to work this morning, and when my shift ended I checked the power steering fluid level and lo and behold, found the reservoir full. So now we have to take the car back tomorrow morning and instruct them to "Check the whole system"... which is what I'd thought we'd done the first time. *sigh* Also, I would not take her back to the same shop, not in light of both this failure of imagination and saturday's disconnection of the speedometer. This in my life generally go well, thus the theory of Mike Wilson luck, but when you're dealing with my dad, everything is a struggle.

So yeah, when I tried to blog I cleary typed in www.blogger.com, which upon hitting the ENTER key, my browser chose to interpret as .comwww.blogger. What the...?!

Crap
Sheryl Crow

H-A-D
Have a silly day.

The Impossible Squad
Greyhawk!
Human Dynamo! (II)
Captain Freedom!
Star of India!
Le Fleur-de-Lis!
Lava Man!

(The Impossible Squad were almost all killed in 1967 during a battle with their longtime nemesis, The Fury. The only survivor was Le Fleur-de-Lis, who was badly mauled and permanently disfigured. Shortly thereafter, burdened by grief and regret, The Fury retired. She was recruited by The Cloak, who molded her into The Erinys, champion of Imperium [London] and second-in-command of SPQR.)

You know what I've never understood? This. What does the Iron Cross, longtime symbol of Germany and all things German, have to do with being a biker? Bikers have Germans' love of precision and conformity?

Went down to Ann Arbor last night to see Spider-Man 2 with the Sardine. And hey, after more than a year I finally got About a Boy (the book, though I also own the movie) back. Even were my transient infatuation with Sardine based upon affection, not lust, she is undateable. Several times last night, just to see what would happen, I not only unlocked her door, but held open the door and closed it for her. Each time, as I walked behind the car and peered through the rear window, I'd see her fumbling with her seatbelt and never once reaching over to unlock my driver's side door.

And we all know what that means.

Vote For Kodos
At dinner I said, "I have said this for years that I am not a conservative and I resent the implication." Meine Vater replied, "I know, it's real discouraging." This after he said I was a bit of a flaming pinko. Funny thing that before 9/11 he never once identified himself as a conservative, social or political, and now he pretends to have O.G. street cred (original Goldwater).

Crap
The Rolling Stones

H-A-D
O my brothers, have a real horrorshow day.

Peril!
The power steering system will, I hope, no longer leak. Unfortunately, on the drive home from the repair shop, I noticed that the dimtwits had managed to disconnect the speedometer. *uh* So, I turned around and drove - at what speed I have no idea - back and within five minutes they were able to reconnect whatever they had disconnected. It's an interesting thing, driving without any real idea of how fast you're going.

Hello, Kitty
Sam meows and whines all the time, and a lot of the time it seems that he doesn't even want anything in particular, he just doesn't want to be left alone. It gets annoying and sometimes I just want him to just go away, but then I feel bad about that because he's old and pathetic, and is it such a terrible thing to want someone to pay attention to you?

Crap
Hole

H-A-D
HAVE AN EXAGGERATED DAY

Bitching*
Who was up at 7:00 this morning to go to work? Me

Who had four straight hours of class after work? Me

Who is now cooking dinner? Me

Who will do the dishes later? Me

Who had the free time today to paint a model of the Death Star? My dad

Who asked me to pick up some Ya Ya's for him on my way back from class because he didn't feel like leaving the house? My dad

Who then said it was fine if I just cooked the chicken already in the fridge when I got home from class? My dad

Who, having been home all day, then complained about the delay the entire time I was cooking his dinner, this after I'd been out of the house for eleven hours? My dad

Who needs a brick to the face? My dad

*Not bitchin', which is good, but bitching, which is bad.

Peril!
While the Mousemobile is having her power steering system repaired, I get the drive The Last Angry Van! While there are certain obvious disadvantages to driving a minivan, it is nice to be able to see over SUVs for once. Hurray, now I'm the guy blocking the view of guys like me! Seriously, though, I've put in a lot of hours and a lot of miles in The Last Angry Van and just like the Mousemobile, she feels like home.

Crap
A Perfect Circle

H-A-D
Have a cow day.

Peril!
I love the Mousemobile more than any man should love any car, but there are drawbacks to driving an eighteen year-old vehicle, especially a vehicle from GM's golden age of "quality" the 1980s. On Tuesday, I checked and topped off the power steering fluid; today, the power steering fluid reservoir was bone-dry. Every day's an adventure.

I've finally named Kate McKenna's alter ego! A mild-mannered high school English teacher, McKenna manifested the power of invulnerability during a horrible subway accident; the rest, as they say, is history. Her alter ego was a public favorite as well as a media darling among New Amsterdam's mystery men before the devastating fight between The Lion and The Terror polarized public opinion, resulting in the Protectors being given jurisdiction. She has now dedicated herself to protecting the people of Patriot City , patrolling the streets as... THE SCOT! Complete with appropriate symbol.

Crap
Incubus

H-A-D
Have a virtual day.

Invincible
Invincible (Mark Grayson)
Omni-Man (Nolan Grayson)
Debbie Grayson - civilian
Atom Eve (Samantha Eve Wilkens)
William - civilian
Rex Splode
Dupli-Kate
Allen - Champion Evaluation Officer, Coalition of Planets
Cecil Stedman
Black Samson
Monster Girl
Shrinking Ray
the Mauler brothers

The Immortal - dead...ish
Darkwing - dead
War Woman - dead
Aquarus - dead
The Red Rush - dead
Green Ghost - dead
Martian Man - dead

If you aren't reading Invincible, I have to ask what's wrong with you? Perhaps that's too harsh, because I was once like you. Then again, there's a lot wrong with me; what's your excuse?

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Lucinda Rosenfeld's novel What She Saw..., love it though I do, is uniquely unsuitable for adaptation into a motion picture. The book chronicles the life of Phoebe Fine through her relationships with various men, and lacks a consistant thread that could tie together a movie. The sequel, Why She Went Home is more of a coherent novel (What She Saw... is almost a collection of short stories), and though I'm not saying it should happen, it could be successfully translated into a film. It occurs to me that were Why She Went Home to be made into a film, Ms. Deschanel would be well-cast as Phoebe Fine. My inspiration for this thought, though, was seeing Emily Deschanel, Zooey's older sister, in Spider-Man 2. Because if Zooey played Phoebe, Emily would be perfect as Phoebe's older sister Emily. The Deschanel sisters as the Fine sisters. Somewhere, Jason Barry Gold is very happy....

Crap
Garbage (The most aptly named band since Tool.)

H-A-D
Have a half-empty day.

I just joined Friendster. If I commit suicide in the next few days, please don't say anything nice about me. Suicide is a mortal sin, and it irks me when people say of suicides, "He's in a better place now...." It's a mortal sin, you twits! There is no forgiveness for suicide! Straight to fucking Hell! Gah!

In any event, I've sunken to a new low. In my own words: "This is the most pathetic endeavour to which I have ever been a party."

Excellent Quotes From the Mountain of Love
"But Mike... ASIA!"

"... fucking Robespierre..."

Today was not a particularly good day. I don't want to detail what went wrong, because it's all small, petty garbage, not the sort of stuff to get upset about, but today was quite humid and I got very little sleep last night... never-fuckin'-mind. Sorry, kids, you deserve better. (But you aren't going to get it today! Ha!)

The Queue
David Drake and Bill Fawcett, ed., The Fleet: Crisis
Bernard Goldberg, Arrogance
Michael Ledeen and William Lewis, Debacle
Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot
Steve Martin, Shopgirl
Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch
Thomas P.M. Barnett, The Pentagon's New Map
Lucinda Rosenfeld, Why She Went Home (reread, because at present I'm not at all happy with how the book ended, and maybe a second run-through will give me a different perspective)

The "Should Read" Queue
Miguel Cervantes, Don Quixote
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

Crap
Tool (The most aptly named band since Garbage.)

H-A-D
HAVE AN AGGRESSIVE DAY.

If Kirk appears on Enterprise, I will stop watching new Star Trek as long as Rick Berman is in charge. I swear on my honor.

Coach Krzykewski decided to stay at Duke. Gee, that's the freakin' shock. Seriously, who honestly thought Krzykewski would leave his beloved Cameron Crazies? Personally, I think the only people who thought this would happen were the fine folks in Chapel Hill, who are desperate to be rid of their nemesis.

Words You Never Want to Hear
"Either way, your seed dies with you."

Played Risk last night with the Guy and the Professor (it's neat when a friend you think is still out in California randomly shows up for One Night Only!). It was one of the longest, most bitterly contested games ever played by BTW. Nevertheless, when the guns fell silent, the Black Raj held illimitable dominion over all.

Crap
A.F.I.

H-A-D
have a timid day.

INDEPENDENCE DAY!
I spoke too soon, he did put up the "Don't Tread on Me" flag. *sigh* My only hope is that he doesn't think it means what I think it means.

Never judge a man by his titles, or lack of same. Augustus Caesar (born Gaius Octavius Thurinus), first Emperor of Rome, allowed himself to be known only as princeps, "first citizen," or primus inter pares, "first among equals." At the time of his death in 1997, Deng Xiaoping was absolute ruler of China. His only title was Honorary President of the China Bridge Association (bridge as in the card game).

Crap
Boston

H-A-D
Have a torpedo day.

INDEPENDENCE DAY!
Happy birthday, America! On this date in A.D. 1776, the human race declared that it would no longer be held under the sway of petty kings and tyrants; that only the consent of the people was a legitimate basis of government; and that if these inalienable rights ("unalienable"? screw you, Jefferson) were not given freely, they would be claimed by force of arms, even if that means a ragtag army from thirteen deeply divided colonies must fight the most powerful empire in the world. Today is America's day, but also a beacon for all the world. Happy birthday, baby, you're still beautiful after 228 years!

While making my dinner last night, I burned the top of my left hand. Geeze, if I was going to burn my hand, I would have preferred to have done it with a firecracker, rather than an oven. Then again, if I burned my hand doing something as simple as baking a frozen pizza, I probably would have blown the damn thing clean off with a firecracker.

Faux Independence Day
I spoke with the Mountain this afternoon and he wished me a "Happy faux Independence Day!" It would seem that in the Town of Schroon (Schroon Lake sounds fine, but something really bugs me about the words Town of Schroon), the Independence Day parade is organized by a local organization known as the Word of Life Church. The Independence Day parade was held today, July 3. Last I checked, Independence Day is July 4. But it seems the Word of Life Jesus freaks object to holding the parade on a Sunday. Who the fuck do you assholes think you are? INDEPENDENCE DAY IS JULY 4! YOU KNOW, THE FOURTH OF JULY?! Gah! I live every day of my life in fear of eternal damnation and I thank the Almighty for His Grace and the promise of salvation, but I cannot tolerate those bastards perverting His commandment to mean they can't have an Independence Day parade on Independence Day. Word of Life? More like Word of Lies.

My father fixed our flagpole (actually, the problem was with the bracket that afixed the pole to our porch) today and Old Glory is now flying outside the house. Woo hoo! I was afraid he was going to fly his new "Don't Tread on Me" flag. I understand that it is a piece of American history, but I've never liked that flag. In almost every other reference in our culture, the snake is a symbol of evil. Thus the reason that it was never adopted as our national symbol. To me, the "Don't Tread on Me" flag today is only used by anarchists (Libertarians) and others radicals who inappropriately idealize the colonial period and Jefferson's anarchist streak. Great, not only is he a piece of Nazi filth, but now my dad's as crazy as his brother, Uncle Lin. Bloody hell.

Sometimes I worry that the only reason I'm friends with the Sardine is that I want to sleep with her. I mean I like her, but she also gets on my nerves. Maybe that's too harsh. But she has a very strange kind of persistantly low self-opinion, and I have no patience for it. The thing about Sardine is that she's not stunning. She's very cute in a timid, mousy kind of way, but normally I couldn't care less about cute. Pretty is great, I worship beauty, but I'm not very into cute. Yet, that's what she is. I can go for weeks without thinking about her once, but whenever we talk (usually through AIM) or especially when I see her, I am almost consumed by lust. In a manner entirely out of proportion with her attractiveness, both emotionally and physically speaking, I want her. And thus my concern.

"Scoring" is not my principle motivation in my dealings with the opposite sex. Were it so, I certainly would have strung Q-Girl along long enough to sleep with her, instead of bolting at the first sign or an ongoing relationship. So, it isn't my M.O. to "keep a girl around" just for my eventual sexual gratification, but my feelings for Sardine are so powerful and so transient as to arouse my own suspicion. In any event, we have plans for me to come down to Ann Arbor next weekend, at which point we'll go see Spider-Man 2 (apparently, she didn't think Spider-Man was anything special, and I'm trying to change her mind).

Spidey for Me
I saw Spider-Man 2 with the 'rents last night. Woo hoo! It was truly excellent. What really surprised me were the Sam Raimi moments. I mean, obviously, Mr. Raimi directed both Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2 - and quite expertly at that - but the first movie was pretty straightlaced. Many other directors could have done a very similar job. Certainly, there were touches of pure Raimi - Bruce Campbell, that ugly yellow car, Ted Raimi - but only in Spider-Man 2 were there moments that only he could have done. The scene in the operating room was almost straight out of The Evil Dead. I won't say any more because I don't want to ruin anything for anyone who hasn't seen it, but you'll know what I'm talking about. Well, at least the Mountain will.

Spidey for Everyone
Spider-Man 2 features cameos or minor roles by:
Daniel Dae Kim!
Emily Deschanel!
Hal Sparks!
Phil Lamarr!
and returning as Betty Brant:
Elizabeth Banks!

Crap
Dashboard Confessional (Though I will admit that "Vindicated," which plays over the end credits of Spider-Man 2, is much better than the awful "Hero" heard over the end credits of the first movie.)
H-A-D
Have an alarming day.

I really should be in bed, because I have to get up early. But then again, no earlier than usual... and it's not like I'd be asleep were I in bed. So, I might as well talk to Sardine as she avoids packing for her weekend trip.

My last final was on Tuesday (6.29) and my first class of the new semester isn't until Tuesday (7.6). It's cool being done for the day once I get out of work, very relaxing. It's important to enjoy it now, because beginning next week, Meine Vater is taking two weeks vacation. Presumably this is GM's annual summer shutdown? In any event, with a week in the hospital, then two weeks lazing about the house "recovering," then another week lazing about the house on vacation, he had a solid month away from work, then one week back, then two more off. Gee, with a tough schedule like that it makes perfect sense that he's so grouchy all the time. Jerk.

Crap
Beastie Boys

H-A-D
Have Custer's last day.

Disquieting Cold War Terminology
President of the United States = NCA (National Command Authority)

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Such is my indignity that I am still outraged! Outraged! In the meantime, news leaking out of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie set is well, not so much actually leaking. Blast! Oh, well. Still waiting for Eulogy and Winter Passing to arrive in a theater near me.

Spidey
I was IMing with Steeze last night and he mentioned that he was going to attend a midnight screening of Spider-Man 2. Earlier yesterday evening, my mother inquired if I was going to see the movie at midnight. To me, both suggestions were very strange. I mean, yes, I read comics, but the only reason I read The Amazing Spider-Man is because J. Michael Strazynski is the current writer. And yes, I greatly enjoyed the first Spider-Man. But even so, it's not like we're talking Star Wars here. The only two films I have ever seen at a midnight screening are Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace and Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones. I never even considered seeing Spider-Man 2 at midnight until it was suggested to me. This being such a fascinating topic (hey, no one's forcing you to read), what's with the title? Spider-Man 2? Certainly it is descriptive and accurate, it is the second movie based on your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but as a title it certainly doesn't stir any emotions. Spidey isn't beginning, he isn't returning, it's just the second go around. I think I liked it better when The Amazing Spider-Man was being banded about as a potential title.

Crap
Guns N' Roses

H-A-D
Have a magnified day.

The Loyal Opposition
Batman
The Joker

Batman Returns
The Penguin
Catwoman

Batman Forever
The Riddler
Two-Face

Batman & Robin (*shudder*)
Poison Ivy
Mr. Freeze
Bane

Batman Begins (coming soon... but not soon enough)
Ra's al-Ghul
Scarecrow

*****

Spider-Man
Green Goblin

Spider-Man 2 (tomorrow!)
Doctor Octopus "Doc Ock"

X-Men
Magneto
Mystique
Toad
Sabretooth
Senator Kelly

X2
Magneto
Mystique
Stryker

Not to be crude, but Mariska Hargitay is yummy.

Homo sapiens sapiens
I was thinking about evolution today, and from a biological stand point, I don't think we make any sense. I mean, let's look at the cheetah. Millions of years ago, some prehistoric cat was able to produce more progeny because he was a little faster than other cats and thus better able to run down prey. Now, the same princicple holds true for the prehistoric ungulates this cat likes to eat; some of them can run a little faster than the others, and so they live long enough to breed and pass on their quick genes. This arms race continues on and on, day by day through the generations and the millennia until you arrive at the present day: the cheetah and the gazelle. A gazelle can run at speeds up to 40 mph; a cheetah can sprint at 70 mph. Sure, the gazelle is giving up a ton of speed, but it can also maintain it's top speed far longer than the cheetah, which can only sprint for 200-300 yards. So, an alert gazelle can react while the cheetah is still too far away to make up the distance, and enough of them are alert enough to perpetuate the species. By the same token, enough cheetahs are stealthy enough get close with enough gazelles to contiue making little baby cheetahs.

But, if a 70 mph cheetah can catch some gazelles, surely a 90 mph could catch even more. So, why don't cheetahs sprint at 90 mph? The short answer: because they don't have to. Despite the amazing variety of life on our pleasant little planet, and nature's charming way of filling every tiny little niche and habitat (there are creatures living in the volcanic vents on the ocean floor, for Pete's sake!), evolution is an inherently lazy process. It doesn't make creatures as fast or strong or agile as they potentially could be, it makes them as fast and strong and agile as they need to be. Thus, my original problem. The crocodile has not changed in millions of years. It has not changed because it does not need to change; a modern crocodile is perfectly capable of killing anything it needs to kill in order to survive. Nature only makes creatures as formidable as they need to be; so, why are we as unbelievably fierce as we are?

We may not look like much - dull teeth, no claws, chimpanzees are way stronger than us - but Home sapiens sapiens is the most lethal animal the Earth has ever produced. We are so lethal that it can fairly be said we have no natural predators. Lions. Wolves. Eagles. None of these creatures hunt men unless they are desperate. We are the only predator that lives in environments as diverse as the Yukon and the Sahara, Tahiti and the Falklands, Afganistan and Argentina. We are the only predator so deadly that we take steps to preserve other predators (we have limited the hunting of wolves and various birds-of-prey). We are the only predator that hunts for pleasure rather than necessity. As a species we are so deadly that we spend most of our time on politics and art and keeping lesser predators as pets (hi, Sammy!); how many lions waste their nights blogging? Our lethality comes not from our physical prowess, but from our gooey brains. The opposable thumb is fantastic, I'm a huge fan of the opposable thumb, but we'd be absolutely sunk without our enormous heads and the brains they protect.

But the thing of it is, our brains are so smart that they more than compensate for our relatively harmless bodies; we are much smarter than we need to be to hold our ground. We are smart enough to be the top of the food chain, undisputed masters of all we survey. And that's what I mean when I say we don't make any biological sense. Every other creature is what it needs to be in order to survive; we are much more than we need to be. (We are not everything we could be, but that's what all the art and science and striving is for.) Our intelligence makes us much better at killing than simple biological necessity dictates. I suppose my question here is: how in the hell did that happen? Why in the case of this one species did nature provide more than was necessary?

Crap
Macy Gray

H-A-D
Have a night.

My congratulations to the Iraqi people on the occasion of the restoration of their national sovereignty. With a little luck, in sixty years you guys can be the Germans, a bunch of people we had to save from themselves who now resent the hell out of us for saving them. I kid, I kid; ponytail-wearing, techno-loving, pacifist Germans is waaay better than the bad old days when they tried to conquer the world every twenty years. As far as the Iraqis, I sincerely wish them nothing but the best; that said, no one commands American soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines but an American. No one. Admiral Nimitz in the Pacific Theater of Operations, General Eisenhower in the European Theater of Operations, and only an American has ever been Supreme Allied Commander in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.

Eternal City
One of the things I have never liked about comics is the proliferation of super science. If the Metropolis Police Department's S.C.U. has laser rifles and flying suits of armor, why exactly is it that armies still fight each other with bullets and diesel-powered tanks? Thus, in The Cloak's world, super science is pretty limited. There are a few superheroes flying around in armored suits (Mecha Man, The Gladiator, Archimedes, et al.) and several other science-based mystery men (Man of Science, Dr. Device, Zero Hour, et al.), but only one functional laser/raygun/blaster/energy weapon in the world, the weapon invented by The Mandarin. Now The Mandarin is an interesting case, because he is also one of the few mystery men to employ genuine magic. His armor, which makes his pretty much invulnerable, is mystical. It functions by the combination of a series of tattoos on his bady, the actual armor plates, and a series of chants in 16th century Mandarin. Of course, he only has the armor because he invented his energy weapon and decided to fight crime; seeing potential in the lad, The Cloak then introduced him to the previous Mandarin, by then quite aged, who inked him up, taught him the chants, and passed on the name. (Thus, an American by the name of Kevin MacGuinness is known as The Mandarin.)

Crap
Limp Bizkit (Never Girl actually owns some of this garbage.)

H-A-D
'Ey mon, have a rastafied day.

"Another win for the Irken Army. Clean, lemony fresh victory is mine."

Hello, Kitty
I realize now that Sammy doesn't always want to be petted. Sometimes, he just wants me there. Sometimes, he just doesn't want to be alone.

"This car, I'm driving,
This vehicle that I ride in,
So hot, so stylin',
Making all the ladies we pass start cryin',
You, yo do you want to take a ride?
Let's go, baby,
No, she doesn't want to get inside,
You better check out this ride!
Yo, check out this ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ide!
Yo, check out this ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ide!"
--The Aquabats!, "Yo! Check Out This Ride!" from the Yo! Check Out This Ride! EP

Holy crap, "The Noah Serum" just might be real.

Crap
Dixie Chicks

H-A-D
Have a disintegrating day.

Publius Cornelius Scipio Winter
or
Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus Winter
?

Jolly Nihilism
So, I finished Diary. I need to reread it again, because I hated it when I started it. I thought the beginning was incredibly dull, but as it went along I loved it, as I do all of Mr. Palahniuk's novels. Hmmm, while I'm thinking about it, maybe I should go back and reread Survivor, Invisible Monsters, and Choke, too.

Fight Club
Survivor
Invisible Monsters
Choke
Lullaby
Diary

Eternal City (provisional)
Among the ranks of SPQR, The Cloak's global legion of apprentices, is a young man (mid-20s) named Jack Robson. Young Jack lives in Imperium, England, UK (London), and operates in concert with The Erinys, The Alienist, and The Aegis; up the road in Lydonham (Birmingham) are SPQR agents The Torch, The Phalanx, and The Mace. Jack possesses the superpower of super speed: he can run really quite ridiculously fast. The problem I am having is with Jack's alter ego; at present, he is called Mercury, after the fleet god of Roman mythology. Mercury is a fine name for a mystery man, the problem is that Jack is a member of SPQR and all the other members have names that begin with "The" (The Cloak, The Gargoyle, The Proxy, et alii). I would really like to carry this naming pattern through to Jack, but cannot think of a suitable name. I already have speedsters called The Blur (Frank Wu, a hero), The Cheetah (Jenni Nelson, a hero), and The Streak (Ray Caliban, a villain) and have found it nearly impossible to come up with a fourth. I could use another animal name such as The Gazelle or The Impala, but neither seems quite right. The only name I like is The Swift, but of course there is already a character named Swift over in WildStorm comics (plus, a swift is a type of bird and Jack cannot fly). I may simply have to resign myself to leaving Jack as the black sheep of SPQR, leaving him as Mercury. There are, of course, far worse fates.

Also, another of Jack's comrades in SPQR is a young lady (late teens) named Matsumoto Hitomi, whose body is composed entirely of mercury. She possesses the ability to alter her form at will, thus allowing pure mercury to retain a humanoid shape. At present, her nom de guerre is The Enigma. (I am tempted to call her The Quicksilver, and to blazes with the X-Men/Avenger Quicksilver. His name, being a speedster, is a terrible pun anyway.)

Crap
Linkin Park

H-A-D
Have a slow day.

Dreams of Empire
This evening, I saw a movie I've been meaning to see for some time, The Man Who Would Be King. Seen it, haven't read it. So, ladies and gentlemen, with empire on my mind (my paternal grandmother was born in India under the Raj; her mother, my Great-Granny Gray, an Englishwoman, passionately hated Gandhi until the day she died), may I present my favourite poet, Rudyard Kipling:

"If-"

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Crap
Black Eyed Peas

Do you think the other Black Eyed Peas resent the fact that Fergie is the newest addition to the group, and yet also the most famous?

H-A-D
Have a karmic day.

In the spirit of today's "Have A Day," I now present the quote from the greatest card anyone has ever received (thanks, Skeeter!):

Conformity--Proudly Serving Painfully Boring People Since Time Began

These days, I find that I am censoring myself to a great degree. There are things I want to say about selling out and friendship and loyalty that I cannot say... maybe it's best just to say, "Beware the fury of a patient man." I have fury to spare, but I have never been a patient man. To what I hope will one day be my enemies' great lament, however, I am working on it.

Crap
Deftones

H-A-D
Have a nonconformist day.

The bottle cap of my Jones Soda sez, "Wear a shirt inside-out." So, now my T-shirt's inside-out. Must... obey... Jones...

The Rebel Black Dot Society... and Sundry Others
Margaret Eastman
Pete Foster
Mary Peppard
Scipio Winter
Parker Peppard
Stacy Fahrenheit
Nadia Kaminskaya
Martin Sandhurst
Noel Kincaid
Josh Berg
and
(Margaret hopes) Kari Putterman

...yeah, they hate fratholes and sorostitutes. Fucking Greeks.

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Great Caesar's ghost, I simply cannot believe this (see No. 79). This is an outrage! Who do those beer bong-owning, silicon implant-loving frat boy bastards think they are kidding? They like keg stands, and Vin Diesel movies, and Hugh Hefner. They are incapable of understanding Ms. Deschanel or appreciating the subtlety of her myriad charms. They like Anna Kournikova and think Paris Hilton is more than just a walking case of VD. These things simply do not jive with liking Zooey Deschanel! Fucking fratholes. By Lucifer's beard, they sully everything!

"Wise Pappy Smurf... corrupted by his own power... Can no leader go UNTAINTED?!"

Godspeed, John Glenn
John Glenn: war hero, astronaut, senator, American badass. He was the first American to orbit the Earth (Alan Shepard and Gus Grissom's earlier flights were suborbital) and the sole Marine among the Mercury 7 (Air Force: Grissom, Deke Slayton, Gordon Cooper; Navy: Shepard, Wally Schirra, Scott Carpenter). His flight, which finally equalled what Yuri Gagarin had accomplished on his first human spaceflight, made him a national treasure; he was considered such a valuable public relations assest that NASA refused to allow him to participate in the Gemini and Apollo programs. The real mark of his mettle? The name of his F-86 during the Korean War: MiG Mad Marine.

Crap
Def Leppard (Learn to spell, you twerps.)

H-A-D
Have a hairy day.

"A badger with a troubled past and nothing left to lose..."

Captain Yesterday!
Clobberella!
Super King!

They are... the New Justice Team!

Today I saw a Futurama episode I'd never seen before, "A Clone of My Own"! DVDs are awesome!

181
I have in my possession one hundred eighty-one Jones Soda bottle caps. I know this because I just counted them. Ha! I win and you lose, I've got the Jones caps and you don't. And those aren't even all the Jones sodas I've had in my life. Score!

For Skeeter, who feels ill...

"Hey everybody it's a real turn on
It's on yur wrist and it's lumpy, it's a ganglion
Tendon tubies get a pocket of fun
Fill up with juice and mucuous, it's a ganglion!"
--Lederhosen Lucil, "Ganglion" from Tales from the Pantry

Goldbrickin'
Except for a few hours yesterday, my dad hasn't been to work in a month. He was in the hospital for a week; fair enough. He needed two weeks at home to recover until his bloodwork was such as to permit him to go back to work; fair enough. But he said he was going back to work this week, and now he's taking vacation days the rest of the week. And while he's too ill to go back to work, what is he doing? Lazily working on the Camero, but primarily reading all the books he's been getting from some dreadful organization called the Conservative Book Club. (Ye gods.) His latest cause, which apparently he picked up from Ann Coulter (once again, ye gods) is the rehabilitation of Joe McCarthy. Their contention is that old Joe wasn't so bad, he's gotten a bum rap from the liberal media, and that - to this day - the State Department is a nest of Reds and traitors, the last functioning branch of the Comintern. I hate having my father hanging around the house whenever I come home, maybe even more than I hate having to wake up early on my days off to run the cars around.

Crap
Fugazi

H-A-D
Have an Earth Day.

Pining For Pining
Let's just say that these are high times for the dark bastard. It's been approximately a year since I've really had a cruch on anybody, and I miss longing for someone. In my life, opportunity has knocked many times and I have fouled it up quite expertly in any number of ways. I've been paralyzed into inaction by fear (not always of rejection); had my advances repulsed (sometimes gently, sometimes not); and, on at least two occasions, when my affections were reciprocated, been suddenly seized by a feeling of being smothered and subsequently fled in abject terror. The nice thing about a never-ending drought is that you can truthfully say, "How's business? It's as good as it's ever been."

But the one constant throughout has been the pining. From Mrs. Blinky - whom I only desired after she became Saturday Night's girlfriend and thus unattainable - to my pal Olga to A Girl Named Hell-ya, I am an expert piner. It has even been speculated that I don't even necessarily want a relationship, I just like pining. And now, I don't even have anyone to pine over. (In my classes, I'm surrounded by children.) I've resigned myself to the fact that a relationship is highly unlikely (even in comparison to the normal state of affairs) while I reside in Grand Blanc, but I was unprepared for how much I'd miss the simple act of pining. As a consequence, I find my thoughts dwelling on past involvements, such as my short dalliance with Q-Girl, the last girl I kissed; I jettisoned her for good solid reasons which far outweighed the pleasure of kissing her, yet I still dwell. I just need to find someone for whom I can pine, someone in whom I can invest all manner of emotions, all sorts of hopes and fears. I need to do this not because it is necessarily healthy, but because it is the manner in which I have typically resided, the manner with which I am most familiar and in which I am most comfortable.

Or, you know, I could just take up stalking...

The Bastard
Also, we may have to introduce a new occasional feature, High Times For the Dark Bastard.

I love South Korea. The Koreans are solid when things are at their worst. (Scroll down to "Warning.")

Crap
Van Halen

H-A-D
Have a dissonant day.

I love Jet Li, but I cannot see the movie Hero because the first words in the preview are "Quentin Tarantino presents." That may seem petty to you, but spite is the god to whom I've sworn my life and my service. You may not understand, but you aren't The Last Angry Man.

Sunday's housekeeping...
Crap
Metallica

H-A-D
Have a Mondrian day.

{Formerly Known as Empire City}

The Cloak's legion a.k.a. SPQR
"Eternal City" (Detroit)
The Cloak
The Gargoyle
The Owl

New Amsterdam (New York)
The Praetorian
The Spark - retired
(The Battery - RIP; killed in the line of duty)

Centropolis (Chicago)
The Echo
The Pyre

Puritan Bay (Boston)
The Proxy
The Tribune - quasi-independent

Patriot City (Philadelphia)
The Frost
(The Diviner - RIP; natural causes)

Imperium (London, UK)
The Erinys
The Alienist
Mercury - name under constant review, I need a good speedy name that goes with "The"*
The Aegis - provisional
(The Cypher - RIP; natural causes)

Lydonham (Birmingham, UK)
The Torch
The Fist - provisional

Ultrapolis (Tokyo, Japan)
The Kamikaze - character currently in flux; powers? no powers? what powers? who knows?
The Enigma
The Ghost

Privy Council (closet allies)
Sebastian Adair
The Mandarin
Aeronaut - semi-retired
Aeroman
Aero Girl
Aerowing
Mr. Noir
The Green Machine
The Spade - retired; paraplegic, wounded in the line of duty

*speedsters already include The Blur and The Streak, and of course DC's The Flash

Force Canada
Militarized mystery men were outlawed by a USA-USSR treaty in the late-1940s, but several nations have utilized mystery men in a police capacity. Foremost among these organizations is Force Canada, a branch of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Team Alpha "Maple Leafs"
Elastica - captain
The Falcon
Supernova
Broadsword
Bigfoot

Team Bravo "Canadiens"
Triumph - captain
Ironwoman
Whirlwind
Shockwave
Warhead

The Assumption
This afternoon, my brother called and we spoke briefly. The family is planning to visit him at Seagle this summer and he asked me when we would be coming. I told him that we hadn't yet decided which show we were going to see. "What?!" he replied. Okay, maybe we did know what show we were going to see, I told him, but I have not heard any discussion of when we are going. None at all. A moment ago, I saw a note in my mother's handwriting on which she'd scribbled the Conchshell's name and phone number. I asked if she was coming with us to Seagle. My mom's response was, "Fuck you, you aren't going to Seagle, you useless waste of flesh!" Okay, so maybe she didn't say any of those words, but it turns out that she doesn't want me to go visit the Mountain this summer. She assumed I'd be too busy with work and school to take a long weekend to go visit my brother. Oh, gee, thanks, Mom. I mean, why actually bother to ask me what I want, you just go ahead and assume I don't even want to go. You might as well assume I don't want anything for my birthday, either, and while you're at it, assume I won't be eating anything but bread and water from here on out.

I have to find some kind of discredited philosophy to believe in. Of course, I'm having trouble getting past the fact that most of them were discredited for a reason: anarchy, fascism, communism, black supremacy, each has quite obvious flaws. Hmmm, maybe nihilism....

SPQR
My latest idea for a new name for The Cloak's city, and possibly his entire universe, Eternal City. Rome is known as the eternal city; so, why not formalize that as Eternal City? It shares the same initials as my initial choice, Empire City (curse you, Michael Chabon!), and I think it flows better than the current tentative name, Palatine City.

Eternal City
Palatine City
also
Aero City (San Francisco)
Centropolis (Chicago)
New Amsterdam (New York)
Astropolis (Los Angeles)
Patriot City (Phildelphia)
Puritan Bay (Boston)

Eternal City/Palatine City
The Cloak - SPQR, chairman of the Secret Society of Mystery Men
Aero Girl
The Gargoyle - SPQR
The Mandarin
The Meteor
The Owl - SPQR
Mr. Noir

Aero City
All the mystery men of Aero City belong to the Aero Corps, which operates out of the Aerodrome...
Aeroman
Aerowing
Aeronaut (partially retired)
Retrograde
Radiation Girl
The Blur - exiled from New Amsterdam
Mr. Impossible - exiled from New Amsterdam

Centropolis
Spartan
The Echo - SPQR
Sebastian Adair
The Pyre - SPQR
Faust

New Amsterdam
The Protectors, a team composed primarily of "reformed" villains, are the only legally sanctioned mystery men in the city that never sleeps, and only one true hero remains...
Zero Hour - v
The Gladiator - h (secretly v)
Pyromancer - v
Publius - h
Crimson - h
The Engine - v
Ignis Fatuus - v
Nitro Man - v
Destructo - v
*****
The Praetorian - SPQR

Astropolis
After being exiled from New Amsterdam with the founding of the Protectors, The Lion had himself declared Champion of Astropolis and founded the Pride. Not all of Astropolis's native mystery men have obeyed The Lion's orders...
The Lion - exiled from New Amsterdam
The Lioness
The Leopard
The Panther
The Cheetah
The Puma
The Lynx
The Tiger
Archimedes
*****
Lightning Rod
The Boxer

Patriot City
The Frost - SPQR
Captain Photon - exiled from New Amsterdam
Strongman
Tornado

Puritan Bay
The Proxy - SPQR
The Tribune - quasi-SPQR
Human Dynamo
Dreadnought

The Hyperion Guard
Operating under the authority of the League of Nations Covenant and based in Geneva, Switzerland, the Hyperion Guard's mission is to protect the whole world, but as a matter of law it has no authority to operate in the United States.
The Futurist
Celera
Pax
Helios
The Lycian
The Brick (a golem controlled by Agent M)
Agent M
Abstract Man
Cold Fusion

Here's an idea: Robert Baer for Director of Central Intelligence.

What the hell should I get my dad for Fathers Day? And why is there a Mothers Day and a Fathers Day, but no Sons Day or Daughters Day? I get my dad presents three times a year: his birthday, Christmas, and Fathers Day; I only get gifts from him twice: my birthday and Christmas. And don't give me that, "Your parents raised you, they've given you the gift of a proper upbringing" crap. I had no say in the matter of being born. They decided to have kids; so, they bear all the responsibility for the consequences thus incurred. I suppose I could go out to the stores and see what strikes my fancy...

Crap
Rod Stewart

H-A-D
Have an inverted day.

My cold continues to linger. The only part of this that really bothers me is the effect upon my hearing. I feel as if I'm holding a pillow over each ear all the time. It sucks.

Of course, if that's the biggest complaint I have in my day, I'm ahead of the curve.

The Phantom Menace
Attack of the Clones
unknown
A New Hope
The Empire Strikes Back
Return of the Jedi

Hello, Kitty
This might make me a monster, but I've been thinking about how I'll react to Sammy's eventual death and I honestly think that it will leave me more of a wreck than the deaths of my grandparents. I loved both my grandfathers and my grandmother, but I see Sammy every day. He follows me around the house, he bugs me when I want to be left alone, he drools on the keyboard when I'm using the HAL. He's such a pathetic shell of what he used to be, but he's still adorable. And I do adore him. And one day he will die.

Crap
Bon Jovi

H-A-D
Have a mute day.

Royal Flying Corps

Royal Air Force

No disrespect to the RAF, but you've got to give it up for the Royal Flying Corps and the old timey goodness of those Great War names.

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
It's Wednesday again, and that means it's time to appreciate possibly America's finest young female actor, Zooey Deschanel. (Yes, female actor, not actress. I don't have a problem with the word actress, but I don't use it as part of a broader strategy. I loathe the quasi-fictional word comedienne, sometimes used to describe a female comedian. This is a horrible word. So, in an effort to eliminate comedienne, I have discarded actor and actress and describe actors of both sexes simply as actors.) We defer further contemplation of Ms. Deschanel to our next segment...

Hot and Attractive Are Not the Same Thing
Before he left for the Seagle Music Colony, the Mountain of Love and I were discussing this. Being hot is not the same as being attractive. And excellent example of this, and the individual who sparked the conversation, is Jessica Simpson. Jessica Simpson is undeniably hot - she is pretty, has nice (though probably surgically-enhanced) boobies, and a fabulous figure - but not at all attractive. Her voice makes me want to hurt small animals, and that's not even considering the unbelievably moronic things she says. The purely hypothetical prospect of spending an evening on the town with Jessica Simpson makes my skin crawl.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Zooey Deschanel. She is fairly hot - whenever I see her onscreen, I am struck by the fact that her face is simultaneously very pretty and pretty goofy; she has a shapely figure, but by the standards of Hollywood starlets, nothing to write home about - but extraordinarily attractive. Her voice projects both intelligence and cynicism, and her eyes are on fire. The purely hypothetical prospect of spending an evening on the town with Zooey Deschanel is intimidating, because I'd probably trip over myself the entire night.

To review, Jessica Simpson may be hotter, but Zooey Deschanel is far more attractive. (The picture of Ms. Simpson and her husband also appeared in The Newsletter with the caption, "Hmmm, maybe heterosexuals shouldn't be allowed to get married either.")

Crap
Bjork

H-A-D
Have an assimilated day.

Champions
Recent or most recent championships for the teams of Detroit, in chronological order.
Detroit Pistons - 1989, 1990, 2004
Detroit Red Wings - 1997, 1998, 2002
Detroit Tigers - 1984
Detroit Lions - 1957 ...still hurts, and it will keep hurting until Mooch, Joey Heisman, and Dre Bly get us to a Super Bowl and bring home the Vince Lombardi Trophy

Summer Reading
I am rereading What She Saw... in preparation for reading Why She Went Home, and as I progress through it I am reminded of how very, very much I love this book. Lucinda Rosenfeld's writing is simply beautiful and I cannot wait to get started on Why She Went Home.

Champions
Recent or most recent championships for the teams of Detroit, in chronological order.
Detroit Red Wings - 1997, 1998, 2002
Detroit Pistons - 1989, 1990 ...2004?
Detroit Tigers - 1984
Detroit Lions - 1957 ...ouch

A lot of fair weather fans have of late been cheering for the Pistons. Where were the people saying "Go 'Tons" (a truly stupid expression, by and by) during the Grant Hill/teal uniforms/Doug Collins era? Personally, I hope the Pistons do triumph over the Lakers tonight, because, as I have said, it would be good for Detroit, and the city needs all the help she can get. But, I have been so critical of the NBA for so many years that it would be the height of hypocricy to embrace the league now that "my team" is doing well. The Lakers are the New York Yankees - the "evil empire" - of the NBA; so, it is always good to see them lose. The Pistons play a quality brand of ball, one based on teamwork, not the individulaism that has ruined the NBA in the past few decades. It would be good on many levels for the Pistons to defeat Los Angeles tonight. But for me the most important one is that Detroit, that proud old lady, could use the help; much as I pray for the demise of baseball, in the same situation I would be rooting for the Tigers to win the World Series.

Fury
Now is the perfect time to put into practice those wonderful words of John Dryden, "Beware the fury of a patient man."

I have just received word from the fine folks at Amazon.com that my Invader ZIM and Futurama DVDs have shipped, an entire week earlier than they had estimated. Excellent... excellent.

"Do you understand, GIR?"
"I reeeaaally don't."

Crap
Ryan Adams

H-A-D
Half a day.

Yes, I'm whining like a little bitch. You've been fairly warned; so, stop now if you wish. I know it's only a cold, but my sinuses are so full of goo that my head feel like it is going to explode. I've entered the hoarse coughing stage of the cold, which is good because it means we've over the hump, but it's bad because hoarse coughing fucking hurts.

Vote For Kodos
This is an honest question, and I hope someone emails me with an answer: Why is President Clinton's JD from Yale considered a mark of personal intelligence, while President Bush's MBA from Harvard is not? rebelblackdot@gmail.com

Crap
David Bowie

H-A-D
Have a sick day. Wow *sniff* that's appropriate.

Raining On My Parade, Part I
We were told that my father would be able to return to work as soon as he was released from hospital. Over a week later, he still walks with a considerable limp, his leg is still swollen, and he is taking his second week off work. I hate it when my father is home. He makes a mess of the entire house as he simultaneously works on several different project. No wonder you never finish anything, you idiot, you work on it for five minutes and then move on to three other tasks! He took over the entire family room by spreading out his mail from the past month of so. That's all fine and good, he needed the space to make sense of it all and I can understand that. But he spread it out last Sunday night (not yesterday, the previous Sunday) and hadn't touched it again by the time I took matters into my own hands on Thursday. The downstairs bathroom is in shambles since my mother insisted we tear down the wallpaper and remove the mirrors... without providing a time table for when she would paint the walls and have the new sink available for Dad to install. Gah, idiots! The moral of the story is twofold: 1) living here is the penance I am paying for all my myriad sins and 2) I feel no sympathy for either of my parents, those people deserve each other.

Raining On My Parade, Part II
This is the wettest summer within memory. There are more rainy days than not. The biggest problem here is that the Mousemobile's primary means of ventilation is an open window; the air conditioner has never worked properly. So, when it is pouring rain, I cannot have a window open with becoming soaked. But, while the rain has depressed spirits, it has not depressed temperatures, leaving me in a steaming greenhouse of a car with little to no air. And even if the air conditioner worked, I could not use it, because all the heat trapped within the Mousemobile clashes with the cooler rain falling on the windshield, causing it to fog up. So, I have to leave the windows up to stay dry, and my sole source of moving air must be diverted to the windshield to let me avoid wrapping the car around a tree. It is my longstanding policy that I love snow, but I hate rain. Hate it! Bring on the drought, burn, baby, burn!

Fight Club
It's been over a week, and there are no new threats to my person from Kid Hugh. Remember, kids, violence never solved anything... actually, that's not true. To borrow the example from Robert Heinlein, ask the city fathers of Carthage* if violence ever solved anything. Violence has been the solution to many problems throughout the ages; it may be unpleasant, but the capacity for violence and the comprehension of violence as an often effective means to a desired end is inherent to all Mankind.

*And if you don't know what Carthage is, please, just die.