The scene: Me and Me are sitting on a porch in my brain, whittling:
Me: "Sure is quiet around here."
Me: "Yep."
Me: "Thinkin' about posting something soon?"
Me: "S'pose so. 'Venchully."
Me: "Sounds good."
Me: "Yep."
I just tried to convince my friend that Sandra Dee and Hunter Thompson had a murder-suicide pact. I think I had him for, like, a millisecond.
Hometown Hottie Stephen Minarik links Democrats with terrorists and says something about how flouridation is a communist plot. Dean replies by calling the chairman "Stephen Minidick" on Meet the Press.
(via Titivil)
From today's White House Press Beefing:
Q I just have a quick question on Karl Rove's new and expanded role. Will he attend National Security Council meetings in this role, and will he participate in the President's daily intelligence briefings?
MR. McCLELLAN: No, on the latter. I don't expect any change in that. It's just like the previous Deputy Chief of Staff; he'll do the same thing that the previous Deputy Chief of Staff --
Q Well, what is --
MR. McCLELLAN: Well, let me back up, because there is an exception to this. The Deputy Chiefs of Staff essentially represent the Chief of Staff in various meetings and help to make sure that the process for developing policy is flowing smoothly, that it's open and it's fair and that it's moving along.
So I'm guessing the exception is that NOW the Deputy Chief of Staff will make sure that the process is NOT flowing smoothly, is NOT open and fair and is NOT moving along.
Well, instead Scotty goes on to say a bunch of other impenetrable poppycock, but I still think I'm right.
My desktop is full of "New Microsoft Word Document"s. My closet is full of TDK SA 90s, unlabeled. The area around my television is littered with various brands of unlabeled VHS tapes, which are also very dusty. If I want to know what these anonymous information receptacles contain, I have to open or play them. Once in a while, I discover a secret treasure- and neglect to label it, making my chances of ever finding it again slim to nil.
Why do I do this to myself?
Y'know it's one thing to attach electrodes to a guy's genitals, but it's a whole nother thing to have half naked women mud wrestling in a part of the detainee camp where the detainees can't see them. That's what I call torture!
"It does not appear that alcohol was involved and there is no evidence to support suggestions of any type of sexual misconduct," [Lt. Colonel Barry]Johnson told Reuters.
So, apparently Iraq is on this other planet where women strip to their underwear and mud wrestle with no drinks in 'em. There's a recruitment ad for you:
Voiceover: Yesterday, you were scooping ice cream in a Wisconsin malt shop. Today, you're on the Planet of the Half-naked Mud Wrestling Lady Soldiers where nobody has to pony up for the keg! The Army- Dare to Dream.
Most intriguing idea I heard last night? Laura Bush in charge of street gangs!
You do know these ain't the Bowery Boys we're talking about here, right, Laura?
This would make a wonderful late-seventies prime time TV show: kind of a White Shadow/ Kotter kinda deal, but with the first lady. She'll melt the hearts of those Crips and Bloods just by caring so damn much, and before long they're all selling the tea cozies she's taught them to sew to raise money for a local orphanage.
Now, on to the more obvious hypocricies:
"To build a culture of life, we must also ensure that scientific advances always serve human dignity, not take advantage of some lives for the benefit of others".
No, for that you you have to wait for those embryos to become teenagers so that we can take advantage of their lives for the benefit of Haliburton.
Alright, I'm done. If you want to know what else made me yell at the TV, ask my neighbors.
In related news, I'm suing General Mills, maker of Wackies. Mine's bent just like that!
I was doing some driving the other day, and I had Nick Drake in the old cassette machine. I got to thinking "I bet a lot of musicians would like to play the Nick Drake, but they just don't know the words to the songs. I should help them by putting the words to the songs on the internets, and that would fulfill my monthly quota for altruistic acts".
So here we go. I'll start with the song for which he is best known. You may have first heard this tune on a car commercial, when the car company (Volkswagen I think?) decided that the proper mood to establish when trying to sell cars to the 18-34 demographic is languid torpor.
Pig Moo, by Nick Drake
Soya riddim, soy essay
Pig moo sauna rye
Nun view sand stall
pig moo gone gay tall
It's a pig moo
It's a pig pig pig pig pig moo.
repeat
I think that's all for today. When you're dealing with an artist like Nick Drake, you have to work a little at a time. Otherwise, the profundity will overwhelm you and, well, I think the man said it best:
"Pig moo sauna rye".
More later.
Corrections can be sent to:
info@johnkerry.com