Monk

charlatans, rogues, etc.

I'd posted an entry about an autistic kid who was accidentally killed by a faith healer, pointing out how it illustrates the dangers of believing in quacks and snake oil salesmen, but it was too much of a bummer, so I deleted it.
But I did want to take this opportunity to wag my finger about every brand of balderdash that gets sold wholesale these days, from astrology to psychic surgery, so instead, I'd like to introduce you to the Amazing Randi.

Cosmic Muffin

Have you reached a point in your life where you finally feel as though your life has direction, and meaning? Do you feel as though you're finally getting the recognition you've always deserved? Walkin' a little taller these days, are you?
Givin' everyone a wink and a smile?
This is for you.

Take 2 Tablets and call me in the morning

They got the ten commandments out of the courthouse, and all the whining whiners whined. Some of the protesters said they were going to stand in the lobby all day wearing t-shirts with the ten commandments on them. Guess what? You can do that! When an individual, as an individual, expresses their beliefs, that's protected by the First Amendment. The same one that will protect me when I stand next to you wearing my t-shirt, the one that reads "I'm with Stupid".
p.s. I saw one guy on the news pissing and moaning on the courthouse steps who was a dead ringer for Ned Flanders.

All this and Andy Rooney

My cranky remark for the day: Y'know what bothers me? Amazon Wish Lists. Are you really asking for this stuff, or do you just want to spread the word about things you like? If the latter, aren't there other ways to do that besides helping a giant conglomerate gather consumer spending patterns, like just telling me about it? If the former, isn't that just plain tacky?
Here's my wish list:
samolians
greenbacks
lettuce
dough
scratch
bread...

Tip your hat, True Believers!

Tomorrow would have been the birthday of the King of Comics, Jack Kirby, who died in 1994. I know this is incredibly nerdly, but I spent countless childhood hours trying to draw outer space Kirby-stylee. He had the coolest-looking outer space layouts- Steve Ditko's were pretty cool, too.
Just wanted to take a moment and give him a salute. Exelsior, Jack!

Venusians, take note.

Earth is currently experiencing a moment of rare intimacy with the planet Mars. If you ladies look skyward with the aid of a telescope or binoculars, you may be able to observe a dusty place that hasn't been cleaned in awhile. There are features that appear to be the result of an ambitious engineering project, but in reality bear no evidence of humanoid intelligence. Mars has proven to be a difficult planet to reach- it is still unknown whether or not it contains any life at all. Mars, in case you haven't heard, is where men are from (according to this doofus).

I don't know about that, but I'm considering moving there. According to Edgar Rice Burroughs, it's actually full of scantily-clad hot Martian chicks. Not skinny supermodel types, either, but those robust Frazetta-esque women with round tummies, skull-crushing thighs and beaded-curtain thongs that are apparently held on by magic Martian magnetism!
Hey, look- Earth women are great and all, but if I have to fight my way out of the Carrion Caves I'd much rather have Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium by my side!
I'm not sure my folks really knew what those books were about when they bought them for me...

There ain't no good guys...

Pedophile Priest killed in prison by Neo-nazi. Gee Whiz! I don't know who to root for anymore! Come to think of it, that could be a new conversation starter in bars. Remember when you were a kid and you and your friends would come up with "who would win" scenarios? "If the Tasmanian Devil and Captain Caveman got in a fight...", that sort of thing? How about "who would you root for?":
" A baby-eating puppy-fucker is sneaking up on a clinic-bombing daughter-raper with a pillowcase full of penny rolls as he sleeps in his jail cell. Do you wake him up and throw him a sharpened toothbrush?".

What's that, Sucka?

I'm confused. The reception hasn't been too good on my radio, but I could swear they just said on the news that Rudy Ray Moore won't remove the Ten Commandments from his whorehouse.
Is that right?

"This Old House" never looked like this!

I just received an e-mail with the following subject line:

"break walls apart with your huge cock"

a.How did you know?
b.Have you thought about a sledgehammer?

can'tcha you see

Driving home from Massachusetts last weekend, I did my best to scan from classic rahk station to the next as I went, trying to provide myself with continuous head bobbin' to keep myself alert. I truly and unashamedly enjoy alot of this stuff, as anyone who's ever seen a solitary tear drip from my eye listening to Badfinger's Day After Day can confirm.

Granted, alot of it just flat out sucks a BC Rich (ugly Japanese guitar favored by some of the worst offenders in the lighters-held aloft arena). I didn't like Foreigner then, and I still don't. Journey makes me laugh even harder then they did in their heyday (Na na na na na na, na na na na na, na na na na na na, na na na na na...
(repeats) ).
But Boston (the band) is cool, in the way only something so uncool can be. When I profess my enthusiasm for Boston, my friends all think I'm kidding. Look, they are funny, I won't dispute that, but if you can listen to "More than a Feelin' " (Classic Rahk always apostrophises its gerunds) without strapping on an air Gibson and wailing away when he goes "I see my Marianne walkin' awayyy..HEYYYYY" and then its like his voice TURNS INTO a guitar, then you, my friend, are among the undead. Plus they preceded Husker Du in pioneering that soft verse-loud chorus thing, which every band that thought they were something new in th 90's did, so there.
I find it refreshing to listen to Boston in part because they're so lacking in distance and irony. There's no smirk when Boston expresses their sentiments, just pure unbridled enthusiasm for smokin', tokin', cookin', jumpin' and dancin'. And you know what? That's, as Stuart Smalley would say, O.K.!
I heard Boston's "Peace of Mind" twice on my journey (small j), and I found it a perfect example of that of which I speak. This ain't Leonard Cohen or Kurt Cobain, it's probably more akin to Rod McKuen, but as I listened to the words and rocked out with my cock out (except when a truck went by), I couldn't help but think "Exactly! Man, you said it Tom Scholz!". I also thought that the ideas expressed in this song, simple tho they may be, can remind us all not to get too caught up in the pettier aspects of life.
Let's look, shall we?

Peace of Mind

Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you've been payin'
Future's comin' much too slow
And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin'
Can't decide on which way to go
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead. Look ahead.

I'm takin' my ball and go home

“‘Bush Vs. Gore,’ ‘The California Recall’ and the Texas redistricting efforts show that Republicans are willing to do anything in order to win elections except get the most votes." - Bill Maher

I think Maher's a bit of misogynist jerk, but he's hit the nail on the head here. If it doesn't look like the Grand Old Party is going to win playing by the rules, hey, no problem- they'll just change the rules.
It reminds me of high school gym class.

When we played soccer, the football and basketball players, who invariably sucked at soccer, would cheat rather than endure the humiliation of being bested in a sport by us scrawny nerds. If we were unlucky enough to get the gym teacher who was also the football coach, they never got called on it.
But guess what? We still kicked their asses, and we smiled as we wrung the blood from our tube socks.
So I like to think of those Texas legislators holed up in Albequerque as the scrawny nerds in gym class. They too are willing to have their shins bloodied if it will at least give the Republican no-necks a bad day.
They're acting so courageously, I almost find it hard to believe they're Democrats!
You payin' attention, Lieberman?

A LITTLE JUMPY OVER HERE!

I'm at a rest stop on the Mass Turnpike and see a plane flying overhead. It's a really big plane- looks like an airliner- and it seems to be flying very slowly.

The engine doesn't sound right. I'm thinking "Hm. That's strange". Then, THEN, two fighter jets come up from below right behind it. NOW I'm thinking "HMM! THAT'S STRANGE AND SCARY!". I look around at the people milling around, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a highjacked passenger plane is about to be shot down, wondering if I should tell them, but when I look up the whole scene has disappeared into the mist. I listen for several moments for a big kaboom, but hear nothing.
Calming myself, I get back in the car and turn on the radio, thinking that the radio will tell me if we are under attack. Unless they've taken the power out and the radio transmitters aren't working.
As I drive along with one eye pointing skyward, I see a sign on the side of the expressway:
AIR SHOW- NEXT EXIT.
I remember when I was a kid I used to like it when the Blue Angels came to town. Loud, fast deadly airplanes didn't make me feel at all like biting down on a cyanide capsule.
Of course, those were the good old days, when terrorists took hostages.

Pssst! Hey Kid!

Ya wanna see a whale explode?

beantown redux

The pertinent excerpt from the article my friend Karen sent me (not an interview but a record review):

Just last week, in the middle of the day, a reasonable-looking man in his mid-twenties decided to slam his palm across my forehead as he walked past me. Mere days later-- this time at night-- a similar-looking man (but different; there a lot of these guys in Boston) stumbled out of a bar and immediately grabbed my shirt and tore the pocket off, spattering his blood across my arms and chest in the process. (see entire article)

"there are a lot of these guys in Boston"!

If Tony Shalhoub Calls, I'm Not Home

From the Op/Ed section of the New York Times:



OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
Paul Newman Is Still HUD
By PAUL NEWMAN

The Fox News Network is suing Al Franken, the political satirist, for using the phrase "fair and balanced" in the title of his new book. In claiming trademark violation, Fox sets a noble example for standing firm against whatever.

Unreliable sources report that the Fox suit has inspired Paul Newman, the actor, to file a similar suit in federal court against the Department of Housing and Urban Development, commonly called HUD. Mr. Newman claims piracy of personality and copycat infringement.

Paul Newman, an actor, is chief executive of Salad King.

In other news, Monk's mother has filed suit against the Guinness World Record Comittee for appropriating the phrase "Now why would you want to do that?".

I think I'm Under Duress for this Party

Aunty Geist is right, I was forced into this, and I don't like being forced into anything. I maintain my girlish figure by sticking to my workout regimen: High Impact Kicking and Screaming.

And she ought to know better. Has she forgotten my reactions when she'd brandish a forkful of something under my nose while screeching "Try this! Try this!"? If so, allow me to refresh her memory:
"IF YOU DON'T GET THAT GODDAMN FORK OUT OF MY FACE YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO EAT THROUGH A STRAW THE REST OF YOUR LIFE! Set the fork down on the plate where I can approach at will- MY will- and taste this food when I get good and ready".
Of course, Aunty knows that I am rarely good, seldom ready, and never simultaneously both, and if we all waited for such to occur I would never do anything. Which is why she is now waving the blogfork under my Luddite nose and e-screeching "Try This!".
So, okay. But I'm not going to like it.

note: re: that thing about having to eat through a straw- any threat of physical violence that I've ever uttered has been entirely devoid of actual intent to follow through. my mouth likes to write checks my ass can't endorse (even "for deposit only"). I bet it's great to beat the crap out of someone once in awhile, but I'm not likely to ever find out, as I am built like a prepubescent girl gymnast.
But without the muscle tone.

go red sawks

More on this to come, but I'm going to Boston this weekend, for the first time since my birthday a few years ago when I was randomly punched by a guy who came staggering out of a bar with his buddy (run-on sentence). The friend I was visiting later sent me an interview with some rock band (I forget which) in which one of the members recounted an eerily similar story. Now I see that Moby had his dome dented in Beantown as well.
Fortunately, my assailant was sufficiently crosseyed that I was able to escape with a glancing nudge to the shoulder (he couldn't decide which of my noses to aim at, apparently) and a lingering bewilderment vis-a-vis the question: "What are rich white people so angry about these days?"
But that's another topic for another day.
At this point I'm wondering if I must have looked like a rock star to this guy, and there's something about being drunk in Boston that makes you want to beat up a rock star- come to think of it I'm sober right now and there are plenty rock stars I'd like to beat up- but do they beat up their own rock stars? Peter Wolf probably doesn't even get recognized anymore, Aerosmith's surrounded by bodyguards.... Does Boston get drunk and punch Boston?
Can anyone shed some light on this phenomenon?

So, My GI Joe hid under the couch all through the Vietnam War. Then my
friend Karl Rove came over, found him, blew off the white powder he was
covered in, and dressed him up like this!

Pretty Cool, huh?
Dear KB Toys: I have one request: If you make a Condy Rice doll, could
it be life-sized and, um, y'know, anatomically correct?
Signed,
A Faithful Customer, age 9 to 99.