Hey, Loser! I'm Talking To YOU>>>>>
How desperate a subspecies of human do you have to be to cheat on an online strategy game?
Datta Dayadhvam Damyata Shantih Shantih Shantih
How desperate a subspecies of human do you have to be to cheat on an online strategy game?
It's Friday officially and I've turned in the rough draft of my latest objet d'art so I'm free to junk up my blog with one of those things where you post useless facts about yourself as though you were someone important on the world stage. Like Gore Vidal.
So, when you go to dinner with other bloggers, that's what everyone is wondering. Are we? Aren't we?
Nashville Is Talking links to my favourite story of the day. The sad tale of the poor put-upon Pro-Choice movement, and their saviours at the ACLU.
The main face-off is between Tennessee Right to Life, which sponsored the plate, and the American Civil Liberties Union and others, which say the tags are unconstitutional. They claim that because the state government chose one viewpoint over another, it violated free-speech guarantees in the Constitution.
The ACLU maintains that once the state allows drivers to put political slogans on their license plates, it cannot offer that opportunity just to one side of the political debate, said Julie Sternberg, senior staff attorney for the national ACLU. The ACLU had pushed for a "Pro-Choice" plate, but legislators did not pass it.
Don't let the door hit you on your way out! Good grief. She called me at 8:10 this morning to tell me they're discharging her. She sounded as bewildered as I felt upon hearing that.
They're having a big sale.
So...I saw Serenity for free. It only cost me my dignity, and since I have so little of that left, I figured it was a fair trade. If, like me, you've ever imagined a press screening for a movie you've likely had Tracey/Hepburn visions of serious-minded folk with steno pads and an air of self-satisfied education about them. Tongue studs and lack of bathing probably never even entered the picture.
Serenity Spoilers throughout.
I am a pervert. I am a degenerate sicko. I'll read anything that isn't nailed down, and have already memorized the ingredients on my Honey Smacks box. (Disney Weebles! Yay! Except that when I was a kid they were egg shaped. Now they're pill shaped. Way to teach kids to just say "no".)
I am so bad about being on-time with birthday wishes for people. Yesterday was Lydia's big day. Let's all chip in and buy her a replacement for the creepy broken clown doll she has. Its head spins all the way round. In fact, I can't wish her a happy birthday in person because I'm afraid she'll whip out said clown doll just to see me cry!
Dude, it's been such a painful day for me to surf over onto Camp4U. Not only does it sound like an institution of higher learning where one studies chemical additives, it regularly causes me to wince. Now, The Rep has poisoned the well of pop culture with some serious revisionism. Stacey has removed his comments section so I am forced to post these thoughts here, for all 5 of you to see.
use to play a game in the 7th or 8th grade called the 7 degrees of Kevin Bacon .The object of this game was to link by association any one in the world to movie star Kevin Bacon in 7 steps or less .It was fun and simple to do.
Now I have become Kevin Bacon and some people are doing all they can to link me to what ever they can (many times fabricating it on computer as they go along.We used to call this cheating when I played the game).
Much is being made, and will be made of this article in the coming weeks. I first heard about it at another site and then read more detail at TV On The Fritz.
The paper, published in the Journal of Religion and Society, a US academic journal, reports: “Many Americans agree that their churchgoing nation is an exceptional, God-blessed, shining city on the hill that stands as an impressive example for an increasingly sceptical world.
“In general, higher rates of belief in and worship of a creator correlate with higher rates of homicide, juvenile and early adult mortality, STD infection rates, teen pregnancy and abortion in the prosperous democracies.
This is not an attempt to present a definitive study that establishes cause versus effect between religiosity, secularism and societal health
The Rep's latest unintentional misspelling causes me great discomfort:
Sharon called ME this morning. She was up and around at 8:15! She's not requiring that much morphine to manage the pain, and is happily beginning the day as all people should--with a Van Morrison album.
This AP News Article talks about a newly discovered possible early warning sign of the dread memory-loss disease.
Unexplained weight loss in older people might be an early signal of Alzheimer's disease, appearing several years before the memory lapses that define the illness, according to an intriguing but unproven new theory.
Study co-author Dr. David Bennett, director of the Rush Alzheimer's Disease Center, says the results raise the possibility that the disease attacks brain regions involved in regulating food intake and metabolism, as well as memory, and that weight loss is an early symptom.
I told her that's what I'd call these posts. She didn't seem to love it, but what does she know? Girlfriend's trippin' on a morphine drip.
Sigh. If we were, I'd start a crusade. As it is, I'm merely flummoxed.
Did this guy ever meet a dollar he didn't spend? Now, I see this. He may have very good reasons to tap into the petroleum reserves. But it just seems like he is on a mission to burn through every last bit of resources we have. I voted for him twice. He was better than the other guy, in both cases. (Don't ask me how sad that makes me.) But he's just gone crazy.
3:30 this morning I wrote a beautiful post about how I didn't particularly care for the Gas Guy. When I went to fix a typo, I accidentally deleted the whole thing. I was tired and not thinking clearly. Now I have reached the obvious conclusion that Jeremy Swizzlestick controls the blogosphere.
I never liked Gilda Radner. I'm of the Joe Piscopo/Eddie Murphy/Tim Kazurinsky generation of SNL fans, and have never gotten what the big deal was about the First Season Cast, especialy Rosanne Rosanadana. Did you have to be drunk or stoned to get the joke? I think maybe the answer is "yes". Added to the list of things I found inexplicable about her was her attraction to Gene Wilder. Being in love with and married to him strikes me as one tiny step above having carnal knowledge of Captain Kangaroo. I just cannot conceive of the appeal.
[Insert Serenity Picture Here]
You are basing this on the pretense than accepting a press pass obligates one to write extensively on the event, which just isn't true. You make it sound like the press pass is a $15 bribe in exchange for coverage. You would make a crappy journalist if that is what you believe...
Those people are not journalists, but public relations specialists. You've got a messed up sense of journalism, and your contractor metaphor reflects a misunderstanding of journalistic ethics.
This is hysterical
I think it may have something to do with Sesame Street, but ever since I was a kid I have mentally assigned gender and personality to both letters and numerals. Does anyone else do this?
I live in a house with a walk-out basement. When we built the place we decided to finish the basement to maximize the value of our investment and to serve as a potential apartment for aging parents. It's a pretty nice place, overall. The house is plenty big and has a lot of square footage. We keep the freezer full and the fridge fairly well stocked. I always lock the door.
I never understand conservative commentators and writers who encourage watered-down positions and compromise. Politicians have that covered all by themselves. Writers should talk about what is right -- what should be.
Can't believe I forgot this one:
I got a phone call this morning which proved conclusively that I am stuck on stupid.
There's a lot of talk now about TennCare, the cuts to TennCare and the tragedies rising from those cuts. I've been following the issues very closely for the last few weeks and one thing about the debate consistently troubles me.
Tim & I would like to wish a happy belated birthday to our favourite Silver Strawberry.
THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS POST.
Now that my mother in law has flown back to Newark and my major freelance project has been taken care of, I have begun catching up on the TiVo'd juiciness of the fall season. I just watched My Name Is Earl.
Or something like that.
My mother in law is asleep in our guest bedroom, with the lavender vanilla air freshener, the three-day old wildflowers and the only box of Kleenex in the house.
We've crawled on our bellies through the desert of summer TV, drinking at the oasis of Kathy Griffin and scoffing at the mirage of Dancing With The Surreal Bachelor. Now it's time for TeeVee proper, when the serious TiVo fills up with more than gardening shows. (By the way...never buy your mother a TiVo, unless you like to watch This Old British Garden endlessly.)
We are looking for a Live-IN pet sitter.
The first writer I had any passing knowledge of was Richard Scarry. I loved his coyly, subtly named "Best Story Book Ever". I was 3, and agreed wholeheartedly. The first writer to whom I had long-term exposure was John Boy on the Waltons. He was always shutting himself in his room to write stories and was treated like some wise baby bird by the rest of Walton's Mountain. For years--decades, really--I thought I couldn't be a writer because of John Boy. While I did spend most of my childhood off by myself making up stories, I seldom wrote them down. And as much as I loved reading and making up stories, if anyone ever gave me a bundle of paper and a packet of pencils as my only Christmas present I would have had a hard time being grateful. I liked books and stories, but I also liked dolls and Weebles and Steve Taylor albums. Besides which, my suburban family wasn't really all that colorful. We only had four children and no cows and no lumber yard. Between The Waltons and Little House On The Prairie, I was brought up thinking that you had to be poor and have a dad who worked in a lumber yard if you wanted to be a writer.
… Elijah Wood's playlist tries very hard to be not very very gay but it still has a David Bowie cover. I'm not convinced.
Yeah, that right there should drive some blog traffic my way. Of course it will be the kind of blog traffic that will leave highly unsatisfied. Nothing like leading someone on to let them down. Call me a blogtease.
… I believe that if there are angels in heaven there will be animals. And all the animals will be able to talk. Like in Narnia.
Well, Nashville voted down the proposed tax increase "for the children".
Science is well on the way to developing an artificial womb.
Even though Tim and I do almost everything together, early on in our relationship he came to the realization that I would not go all the way with him. All the way in this case means listening to Prairie Home Companion. For years he has had to huddle quietly with the radio in the den or the car hole to get his fix of Lutheran Humour. [Oxymoron Alert!] Whenever I am unable to escape the droning clutches of Garrison Keillor's voice I feel like I've dropped through a hole in the floor, entering a parallel universe where the word funny doesn't mean what I think it means.
Okay. That was downright bitchy, wasn't it?
One of the upsides to a kidney stone (hahaha) is that you can lay on the couch all drugged up and watch movies you've always meant to see but never got around to. And if they suck you're too stoned to care.
To read this post in its entirety, hop on over to Tangled Up In Blue.
There's a lot of talk on other blogs about dating Republicans. It's largely humourous, mixed with a dose of bewilderment and a small modicum of self-disdain.
Everyone remembers September 11, 2001. Pretty much without exception they can tell you where they were when the Towers fell, what they were doing and how out of the ordinary that day was.
In third grade Bobby Kelsey stole some coloured chalk out of the teacher's supply cabinet. All 19 of us had to miss recess.