Well Hung...er, Hanged
Listening to too much Johnny Cash lately. It seems to me that an inordinate number of people in his songs end up on the wrong side of capital punishment. I'm not sure that the music is enjoyable, per se, but it is strangely compelling.


Haircut 1994

Love Is in the Air
I'm going to a wedding today. At a country club, not a church. There is snow blowing in sideways when it's dark and blustery. The rest of the time the sun peeks out. And that about sums up my mood right now. About the only thing I'm looking forward to is the pizza that's on its way. Little boys are fighting over toys and the DVD player. Wife is resting. I'll read my book for a little while longer then get dressed up.


The Map of the River of Life 1994

PS
After the wedding I saw a dead bird on the terrace, right outside where the happy couple said their vows. It's not an omen, right?

Louder Than Bombs
Still eating the garlic spaetzle, this time with brown gravy.

Street musicians in Boston can no longer use amplifiers, I heard on the news. Well, the ones under the street, that is. Apparently some anti-terrorism task force recommended that they be barred from performing on subway platforms. But since that seemed too severe they decided they could stay, but they have to be quiet, so people can hear the unintelligible overhead announcements. (What a great idea! Since the War on Terrorism® is going SO well we can now afford to concentrate on Boston's subways, instead of the entire countries of Afghanistan and Iraq, and the whole Middle East, for that matter.)


The holiday meal

Boys Chair 2001

No Thanks
I had to visit someone at the hospital today. While down at the cafeteria to get my usual one-for-the-road coffee I saw a machine offering "cola yogurt" smoothies. I think I'd rather have a raspberry chai or some other liquid abomination, thank you very much.

On the Menu
Now eating: cold garlic spaetzle with parmesan cheese.



Kiefer 1988

Vocation 2003

Now Is the Time
I'm not sure why, but I'm eating a lemon meringue pie for dinner.

Now Reading: The Grand Tour, Tim Moore. Snarky British travel writer, following the route of 17th century traveler in an aged Rolls Royce. Attracts much unwanted attention, despises all things French.
Now Playing: Either something by Belle & Sebastian or one of Johnny Cash's American Recordings.
Now Drinking: Diet Sprite

Some life, huh?

God's Yellow Pages 1989

I Can See Clearly Now
Saturday morning Sam woke me up by slamming a magazine in my face. "Poppa! My Thomas [the Tank Engine] book [magazine, actually] won't work right! [?]" As I turned over to see how I might be of assistance the corner of the bound edge of the magazine slammed violently into my OPEN eyeball. I yelled at Sam, startled him, and he ran away screaming. (I am clearly a BAD FATHER.) Meanwhile I was left with an eyeball so sore I couldn't open it. Tears ran out like an open faucet. I worried that jelly-ish eye material was oozing out and I would be left with a severely deflated eyeball. When I came to my senses hours later I had a scratchy feeling and a headache. But I'm OK now, thanks for asking.

The Chef Speaks
Do people eat greenbean casseroles in other countries? Like, in the English-speaking world (or anywhere else, for that matter)? I would hope that we're the only ones who do it, because it's not really a nice habit. I don't know why we take gooey gobs of cream of mushroom soup and stir it in with slippery beans and then put those dessicated onion things on top. This occurred to me because I had to make one today.

Health 2001

A Pleasantly Uplifting Addiction
There's a new coffee shop across the street from my office. When it first opened a few months ago I went in once in a while (I had another favorite coffee place that I passed going to and from work, I was loyal to it). But then the one close to home closed, so I was left with a choice: gas station brews (a satanic foulness) or go to the one across the street. It was more expensive, and, as I am a tightwad of sorts, I wanted to boycott it. But I needed coffee. I received some gift certificates to the place as a present, so of course I used them. Quickly. And then the gift certificates were all used up. Only now I was hooked. I went in for an afternoon pick-me-up the other day and said to the girl, "You know, I didn't used to come here every day, but someone gave me a gift certificate, and I got hooked. Now I can't stop myself. It's like drug dealers--the first one's free." She gave me a disapproving stare. And then asked if I wanted room for cream.

Pelviscup (Relic) 1993

Robyn's real site

The Proud Father
If the line above is bold then I really did learn a little code, so that I can bold and italicize without having to do it on a stinky old PC. (The stinky old PC part is right, it's some Win98, x86, 233mhz, 13" monitor beast--though it is hooked up to a broadband network.)

Relic/Gift/Contrition 1993

Fun and Games
Yes, there will be pictures.
Thanks to Blogger for making it possible.
Thanks to Matt for showing me how.

Handsome devil

A Lesson in Postmodern Deconstructive Vulgarity Theory
I have a theory that Comedy Central is a microcosm of our society. It's a stupid theory, I know, but it is my own and that counts for something. Anyway, my brother let me borrow his Strangers with Candy DVDs, and as I was watching them, I began to see past the blatant vulgarity and button-pushing offensiveness of it all, to a deeper level of social commentary. Perhaps it's not meant to be yucky in and of itself (or funny, for that matter), but is instead a brave statement that our culture puts up with far too much yuckiness, and perhaps we should return to a simpler time of pleasant politeness, with occasional "hi-jinks" a la Richie Cunningham and his sidekick Ralph.
Back to the Comedy Central angle: SWC was cancelled a few years ago to make room in the schedule for the gifts to our culture known as The Man Show and Crank Yankers. Neither of these "shows" offer us any social commentary. They are, in fact, the model of the genre of "show" that Amy Sedaris, Steven Colbert and Paul Dinello are using as a foil to invade our consciousnesses with deeper meaning.
So, in summation, the network shows us a crass and repugnant version of ourselves, and anyone who questions it, however subtly, gets fired.
PS I have been a little slow in my hipness these last years and am only now attempting to catch up with what's already been "in" and gone, so forgive me for just now realizing the sociological significance of SWC.
PPS I'd love to eat Amy Sedaris' cupcakes. And I don't usually like sweets.

You know what really burns my socks? That I have to use Internet Explorer 5.5 on a PC to do this right. IE for my Mac doesn't give me all the features one has come to expect with a free blog host (like italics, links, bold text, etc.). Safari is as lost as usual. (Is it still beta?) So I can type up this little post but I can't do anything with it except post it as is.

Glah.

Oh. Apparently, in addition to being only slightly obscure pagan "gods", Castor & Pollux is a brand of pet-care products (shampoos, organic catnip, etc.). If you are trying to purchase something to clean and tantalize your pussy (as Mrs. Slocombe would say) you are in the wrong place. Also, if that word above turned up in a search engine, you will be disappointed. Nothing nearly so tingly here, sorry. The other 7/8 of the Web will have what you're looking for, though.

In Greek mythology, Castor and Polydeuces (Latin Pollux) were sons of Zeus and Leda; they were protectors of sailors and were hostile to pirates. The Greek word translated "the Twin Brothers," or "Castor and Pollux" is dioskourios (from dios kouroi, "sons of Zeus"). The Dioscuri were identified with the constellation Gemini (the Twins), which is the third sign of the Zodiac. Castor and Pollux, the Twin Brothers, are the brightest stars of this constellation. Also, see GODS, PAGAN.
-Nelson's Illustrated Bible Dictionary, 1076.

Clash "The Clash" album cover color scheme. Thank you, Blogger!
http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B00004BZ04.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpg
What? No pictures? Take that, Blogger!

Pollux & Castor are the "twin gods" figurehead on the ship that took Paul to Italy, which took him to Rome, and eventually to a very sharp axe sort of thing (Acts of the Apostles 28:11, look it up, heathens).

Welcome to the place where everything is not nearly so important.