High Road

A co-worker advised me today that when the inevitable situation I was going to face happened, I should remain strong and take the high road--I would feel better in dealing with the other person if I did.

The situation I figured would happen did and I remained strong; I took the high road. It made me tired. I don't know if I felt any better in the end, but I made it through. I guess that's what matters.

Ironically, my horoscope had the same message today.

Guess that is just how it goes some days.

Mahalo.

Memorial Day

In the big political bed of life, it seems Vincente Fox has jumped in with Bush and Blair... how sad. What has Fox done for Mexico lately? Don't get me wrong, I think giving the illegal immigrants living and working in this country citizenship is precisely what should be and needs to be done, but I'm talking about a leader of a country that hasn't done much of anything for the people living there. I stand by Subcomandante Marcos' assertion that the ruling class doesn't have a solution. A sentiment, I believe, goes well beyond the borders of Mexico--and indeed, Marcos points to this as well... Check here for the latest (there is also access to a three part interview done in the last month with Marcos.

And indeed, as we see the re-election of Uribe in Columbia, there is no doubt that the next four years in Columbia will be just as miserable for its people as the previous... Maybe Uribe can tout reduced violence, but what about the conditions for his people? He has done nothing for social reform. Maybe this term, he can again change the rules so he can get elected yet another time?

I used to believe in Democracy... conceptually, I think it is still a nice idea; but I've never seen it in practice. As Che Guevara said: "Cruel leaders are replaced only to have new leaders turn cruel." It is the way of politics. Che is still battling today; theory and ideals never seem to work well in a political realm. It was a hard lesson learned by some good people. But it doesn't mean we don't keep trying something else. It's unfortunate that change has never truly come at a price any less than violence.

Putting the View to Bed.

I said goodbye to the View tonight. After writing one yesterday and the final five today, I felt a little sad. There is a sense of accomplishment, but it has been a part of my life for 2 years, and I will miss it. Though, I had to be quite the sight the last couple days, living in my Hunter Thompson tee and writing in between drinking beer at the pool.

Now, it's time to retire the Thompson tee to the laundry basket as I spilled beer on it at the pool and really, it's just time to change my clothes and get ready to face the world again soon. My "hemingway-esque" weekend needs to come to a close. I need to work out tomorrow and give my body a chance to detox from the onslaught of everything I put into it this weekend--from McDonalds to alcohol to Hershey's to Diet Coke. Bring on the tea, bring on the spinach...

Mahalo.

Precious... it's a girl!!

Ahh, the experiement of the gods has concluded and Brangelina have birthed a girl. Should be interesting...

Top Gun

So, I was easily convinced to slide in the DVD of Top Gun tonight... my guests left after the 2nd or 3rd playing of the volleyball scene. This is simply one of the cheesiest of films, but ahh, for the days when Tommie was not a fucking freak and was solely focused on his homoerotic roles. In fact, Val Kilmer was my favorite in this movie, but in the volleyball scene, Slider had the best bod. Right now, there is a dog fight scene and Jakey is fixated as a cat can be to a movie. Quite funny.

Really, the best of the movie is now passed and I have had far too much wine, beer and sun to stay awake.

Love the weekends...

Waxing about writing

Nothing, and I mean nothing, spells summer like the first long weekend of the year--Memorial Day weekend is finally here and thankfully, it is warm enough to be sitting out on my patio this morning, working on what will be the end of The View from 29... I will be posting the final pieces up by Monday, though some may come between now and then.

It seems like the right time. I'm really wanting to focus my time and energies in writing on a more personal piece--not that the View did not and has not been a very personal journey for me in many, many ways, but I feel a greater "calling" as lame ass cliches go. I feel a very strong need to work on what has been affectionately nicknamed "the grandfather stories" by my friends. Much like its moniker, that is precisely what the project is--the fictionalized accounts that I have been able to pull from people and what I remember hearing as I was growing up. I began in October of last year and am now, finally, ready to dive headlong into it.

I sent out an email to my family and friends this last week, letting them know about the sooner than planned View end--and the responses I've gotten are very sweet, very nice and very much appreciated. I don't feel bad about leaving behind my chick lit lifestyle for the time being; you learn much more from writing when you make it public than just the process and experience. Your writing becomes a reflection on you that even though people close to you know it isn't necessarily true, the expectation comes that you will live up to an ideal. In some ways, that can be fun--like flirting with fantasy. Then there are the days that you hear the guy behind the counter at the establishment you are in whisper to his co-worker that, "Oh my god, that is Nikki Barr, she writes a website, I partied with her once." Yeah, I've partied with a lot of people--once; sometimes once is one time too many.

The other day, I was talking about writing with a friend who also writes and we had a great conversation that writing isn't really a process as it is how you live your life. Great writers know that in order to live, you have to write, but, in order to write, you have to live. A favorite quote of mine on writing comes from Henry David Thoreau:

How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.

I remember the first time I read Thoreau; I believe it was in the ninth grade, I found it torturous and could not understand why someone would do what he did, but as time passed, I fell in love with the notion and gained a deeper understanding. There is a fine line for a writer between writing it and living it. I was reminded by a co-worker about Hemingway--who would write until he had to drink the rest of the day. It was a humorous analogy in the context of the conversation at the time, but it fits here, too. Writing is not just something we do, it is part of how we breathe. Yes, I'm vain enough to put myself into the same category as Thoreau and Hemingway because, like them, I could not function without writing.

People who are writers have to write, there is no other way to function. Ironically, it is this need, and this ultimate basic drive that has caused the downfall of so many... writers are like pirates: we are trapped by what ultimately frees us. Woolf, Hemingway, Hunter Thompson, Plath... Wikipedia actually has a good start on a list of writers who have committed suicide, this however, does not include those like Capote, Kerouac, Poe and Dylan Thomas who died of alcoholism. A quick Google of writers and alcoholism will find over a million entries on the "unproven" correlation. Some cite a possible creativity link, some look at IQ levels... all of it done really without a clue because they have never lived inside of it. That is really all I can say about it--I certainly understand it, it doesn't mean that I can explain it to anyone.

Writers know some truths cannot be exposed via words.

Sexism in science

Bastards!! Bastards of the worst kind!! Leave it to the Danish to screw women over in their latest bit of "research" to be published in the British Medical Journal... Apparently, from what I can skim off this rubbish, we are, again, point to hormones as the culprit. It seems, that a drink a day will help men only in reducing the rish of heart disease. LIARS! Clearly, this is skewed science generated by some geeky scientist who couldn't get laid in the bar by some woman who would rather have another glass of something than to go home with him.

Few things...

I know it is hard to believe, but I'm even more adorable after my hair cut tonight... and I have to say--my head it a lot lighter (even if it is no less full of itself).

News today: Ken Lay is officially guilty. ROFL!!

Headline: Cate Blanchett will be playing Bob Dylan during his "confused" years. Not sure what that says about Kate--or Bob. Eh, what the hell...

And, in a moment that hasn't happened in quite some time, Dylan shared the headlines today with former girlfriend, Joan Baez... who if I read correctly, will be living in a tree for a little while.

A little news recap

Seems Mexican President Vincente Fox is going to scale the 4-tier fence and battle the armed guards at the border so he can visit ... UTAH? Yo, Vincente, babe, there are better border states. Fox is actually going to be allowed in without scaling a wall--but he will be monitored closely; his calls recorded and once decoded, tucked safely in our database for future use when the US decides it will be easier to overtake Mexico than to pass immigration reform...

In other headlines, apparently, there is a cancer vaccine that is showing hope in mice--which is really good for mice with cancer, I guess.

Actually, there are a lot of senseless headlines out there today... thankfully, none of them I've come across yet mention the DaVinci Code. A days reprieve--something is askew in the cosmos.

Miami Vice

Trailers for the Miami Vice movie have been in full force on TV tonight. Jamie Foxx and Colin Ferrell play Crockett and Tubbs... and it does look sleek and sexy--which is really all Miami Vice was ever supposed to be. Pretty people partying and blowing a lot of coke.

All I can say, it will be some definite eye candy if is offers nothing else. And I wouldn't hold out for anything else.

Then, there is the remake of Dallas in production... that is a train wreck waiting to hit the screen.

Sangria on Sunday

So, today, Trac and I were gonna go skating at the roller rink--she in her skates and me in my blades. We went to lunch and then headed to the rink. Upon our arrival, it became evident that there was no skating to be done there today--instead, they had hockey going on. We left with the intention of going to the park to skate. We called for directions, we couldn't find the park. We did, however, after getting on the highway, find our way to Novi and decided to get our cardio via shopping. I did get a great pair of shoes from Bakers. I really had no business buying them, but they were half off and they are fabulous--and I DID need a pair of white shoes. Really, I did.

On the way home, I decided to make myself a nice, healthy dinner of whole wheat spaghetti with turkey sausage... so I stopped off at Farmer Jack. It occurred to me, while we were shopping, that I would need Sangria tonight. It was a good call.

I finally got past my bizarre mood swings of last week when I discovered Thursday evening that melatonin will, in fact, interact badly with birth control. So, I guess my choices are now prescription medication, insomnia, or as the case might be--a few glasses of sangria.

Tomorrow brings Monday, and another week. Here's hoping this coming week is much better than the previous.

Random Saturday Slack Silliness

It's been a while, at least a few weeks, since I've mentioned the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM)... but somehow, in thinking about the Church of the SubGenius lately, it seems that "Bob" would want me to bring up the FSM, as it is the only logical explaination for soming home to my papazan chair flipped over on the floor. As everyone knows, the FSM is especially fond of tormenting cats; and as there are 4 of them here, the FSM often pops in to get them in trouble. So, it was clearly evident when I got home and saw the chair in such disarray that the FSM had not only popped in, but wreaked havoc while here. My cats, of course, were generally disgusted with the whole chair scene.

It should be noted that the FSM has not only flipped the chair over this week, but has also apparently opened the closet door by the bathroom and knocked some towels on the floor, then slept on them. FSM has also chewed on the poor kitties treat bags leaving vicious looking teeth marks. The FSM also, it seems, prepared a clump of cat fur with a toy mouse and an empty water balloon to be left in the middle of the kitchen floor. I'm guessing the FSM has also done other things that I am not yet aware of this week, that will, undoubtedly, get my kitties in trouble.

In the meantime, it's coming on lunch time, and I'll be damned if spaghetti doesn't sound good!

Ending Blasphemy

On my way home tonight, I passed the movie theatre and had a small moment of escaping the inner workings of my own head when I got a little chuckle from the line up of 10 or so people protesting the movie The DaVinci Code. Signs reading things to the effect that if you love Jesus you won't see the movie and a plea to "Stop Blasphemy."

On the one hand, I have to admire people so empassioned my their beliefs that they are willing to stand along side the road to protest a movie. On the other hand, I find it ridiculous. Personally, I am tired of people so religious that they feel the need to try and impose their values, ideals and beliefs upon me.

After several emails too many from various people last week, I broke and composed the following email to the entertainment of several of my friends and the (fortunate) silence of several others:

Ah yes, thank you folks... it took several hundred emails, but the last few put me over the top... those lovely pictures of kids playing, sunsets sparkling and puppies licking kittens really sold me that Jesus is my only saviour after all and God is the only path to follow... I, thanks to your passing forward this breadth of knowledge, will also refute the DaVinci Code, I will boycott Disney and their evil, non-Christain ways... I will only see Mel Gibson movies no matter how much they suck. Thank you for your emails showing me the way... I was not aware that God was so American, and really, what a selling point for me!! I mean, knowing that Jesus and God are backing America--well, what a relief. Glad I got on board when I did. So, now that you have converted me, no need to forward me anything further... just get those who are still ramply wiling around in their own heathenness.

Of course, I still get pictures of puppies licking kittens, and I suppose I can live with that. But what I have a hard time palating is the assumption that I'm Christian, or that I've just lost my way. It doesn't occur to people that I'm comfortable with my spirituality because often times, they are too uncomfortable with it. The irony is, I do not impose my spirituality on anyone who doesn't ask me; so why should it be that people impose theirs upon me without consent? Have the Crusades not ended? Is the Inquisition still on?

Thursday Morning Druthers?

Astrology.com sent me one of their occassional marketing emails with the subject header: What is your purpose in life? Wow, pretty deep for a Thursday morning as I'm wading miserably through the deep trenches of an RFP and wondering what the hell the cosmos is doing to me in general. I wonder, if this the appropriate time for a crisis of my faith in the universe? What little faith I have to be shaken so violently, so unexpectedly and so randomly seems like an act of war. And when it's a war with onesself, there can't truly be a winner. Should I have recognized the signs earlier? They've been there--and why the fuck does it take an email to make me recognize that? I can look at it one of two ways: I've read the signs too late and I'm ultimately doomed; or, the the universe emailed me to wake me up to a potential crisis of faith... in myself.

The Great Wall of Immigration Reform

The Senate, in their infinite wisdom and perpetual disconnect with the rest of the world, OK'ed a really big fence to be built on the border with Mexico. They also gave the thumbs up to granting citizenship... I'm sure the conditions are miserable. But, jolly gee, a fence... I wonder when we will finally get that fence with Canada? If we need to keep anyone out, it's the Canadians--coming over here, flaunting their cheap prescription medication and trying to say they are better hockey players. Clearly, we need to clean that rot up.

It's a good thing I have a "plan" in place... hahahaha!

Church of the SubGenius: Devious Goat-Loving Cult or Fun Free-Thinking Meyhem?

My dear Aunti's Blog inspired me today... it seems that the Church of the SubGenius has a Wikipedia entry under current events about the woman who is in custody battle over her child. The child's father is contending that because she is a member of the Church of the SubGenius and has participated in X-Day events, she is unfit. The first judge was so blatantly biased, he left the case (or was removed, I'm not too clear) and now the ACLU is involved. To read more about this case, you can visit this blog with links to and reprints of various reports.

It inspired me to pull out my lifetime membership card and include it in my id carrier ensuring that everytime I pull out my debit card or ID, my High Preistess card shall also be visible. I still have yet to name my congregation, but I trust, that before the end of the evening, I shall do so. I've been an Ordained Minister and High Preistess since 1999 when I was convinced that the only true way to achieve slack and find eternal salvation was to pay the Church--having been raised Catholic, I was used to having to pay for my eternal salvation, but unlike the Catholic church, it was a one-time fee and there are no ceremonies, no guilt, and there is a triple money back guarentee... how could I go wrong?

Now, if you go to Wikipedia, you will see all kinds of references to "sub-culture" and "postmodern parody" and on the surface, to a non-believer, that is exactly what The Church and Bob must seem like... as Sub-Genii we don't really care what Wikipedia has to say--they are simply humans, unaware of the power of Slack. I'd like to say more, but hey, it will cost you.

Intellect--the ultimate aphrodisiac

Today, we were talking about relationships and age... making a lot of jokes about older men, younger women and vice versa. And watching Criminal Intent right now, I think age irrelevant for the most part.

I've been a fan of Law and Order for a while, first I took it straight up, then I was hooked on SVU, and recently, I've been addicted to reruns of Criminal Intent. At first, I couldn't stand Criminal Intent because I thought Vincent D'Onofrio was creepy, but he's grown on me. He character is strangely and alluringly sexy. He isn't the best looking guy, but he plays a genius on the show, and there is nothing sexier than intellect. Granted, the packaging helps, but it is hugely secondary... most women I know screen on intelligence.

There will always be exceptions.

The comment made today was that the proof that god was not a woman was that women found their sexual peak about the same time men found their favorite recliner. My comment at the time was that it wasn't that god wasn't a woman; she just intended women to go younger. But, in thinking more about this--most women reach their sexual peaks about the same time most men reach their maturity level.

Like I said, there will always be exceptions.

Good night, and good luck.

Fresh Minds

If Yahoo 360 did one good thing, it enabled me to find the writing of Rome Jorge of the Manila Times. I very much enjoy his style and witticism. His latest piece is an editorial on the craziness surrounding the DaVinci Code. Read A Maturing Christianity for more. You can also check out his blog.

Important Lesson for Saturday Morning

Perhaps it is the utter lack of caffiene yet this morning, or my preoccupation with plotting the liberation of Puerto Rico, but when I noticed my laptop was running on battery, I assumed it was because the power connector thingy in the back is loose and comes unplugged frequently. So, after several minutes of trying to force it further into the little hole and then waiting patiently to see if it would just go away (which, of course, it did not). I tried pulling the plug out of the back and shoving it back in. What should have occurred to me was to see if the connection at the power strip was connected... which it was not thanks to a jungle kitty battle of mammoth proportions somewhere around 3 a.m. this morning. They, of course, have no idea what the hell my problem is when I'm standing there holding a cord that very much looks like it should be a toy (but they learned long ago is not) telling them that they should leave it alone. After all, it is in no way their fault that my things get in their way. They are smug and acting as if they are superior, it's like they know I did something stupid and am trying desperately to pawn it off on them--but failing miserably. And that is all fine, the vaccuum cleaner will come out soon enough.

The lesson then, I have learned today, always make coffee first.

Fetish Confession

Well, as the saying goes: You have one foot on a banana peel and one in the grave... or one in your hand and are desperately trying to lick it while crawling on the floor of a NYC subway. Or so goes the story. It kinda makes me laugh and want to vomit all at the same time.

A New Theory of Warfare

Well, with my plan to overthrow and liberate Puerto Rico nicely underway, it's time to watch a few reruns of Law & Order: SVU. It is rather tiring to plan such an event. So many details to consider...

I also came to the conclusion, that this kind of distraction is a nice one when you don't want to think about other curve balls life might be throwing... and from this, I've concluded that Che Guevara wasn't REALLY acting on philosphy and principle when he decided to join Castro--we was still trying to get over the loss of the love of his life. Sure, he got married later, but really, it makes sense. I am not sure you can truly engage in that kind of gruesome warfare on the basis of principle alone unless there was tremendous heartbreak. Well, it's a theory--and it clearly needs work.

The headlines you really don't care about....

Tic tic tic... this just in from New Zealand: Keith Richards has been released, reports of brain damage are being denied

STOP THE PRESSES

Denied? Or, oh, excuse me, did you mean new brain damage as a result of his fall from the coconut tree? And, can you really tell if it is new or just residual from everything else this man has done?

Tic tic tic... Word on the wires is Britney has confirmed she is preggers again. Still waiting for confirmation that it is with K-Feds child. Thank goodness, cause otherwise all those tabloid photos would have just meant she was eating more HoHos than she could work off.

Tic tic tic... Nicole still loves Tom. I think I vomited a little. Is she getting alimony? She does know that MI:III is not looking too hot at the ol' Box Office? Eh, Katie, here's your chance--take the podling and RUN!

Tic tic tic... And finally, in the super human genome project that is Bradgelina, there are no puffs of white smoke from atop the hospital in Namibia yet... but photographers are positioning for a photo. If these paparazzi people had any sense, they would go online and get that degree they've always dreamed of and pose as a doctor, nurse or mechanical engineer for the best view of the Pittling to come.

Of course, a brief comment on the last headline you don't care about... I've seen Angelina's dad, and the photo of her mother--eh, iffy... not sure what kinda stock Brad is coming from, but this could get ugly. I'm just sayin...

The holy grail is an online form... thank goddess for autofill

The Quest is over... I can stop obessessing. Amazingly, this last one was the simplest of the damn puzzles/trivia yet. I guess if you make it through this far and are insane enough to continue, well... they take it easy on you at the end.

But, all this effort into creating these puzzles... all the time and effort of the clues, etc. and, at the end, you are filling out the portion of the registration form that says you completed it all and are eligible for the big prize and the phone number field is screwy. As a QA person, if you want the phone number in a specific format, you need to specify that format so as to not make the person filling out your form do it twice. Ahh, the final challenge in the quest--can you provide your phone number to us???

It's done. And, after completing 24 days of puzzles successfully... I expect that on Friday, May 26, between the hours of 2 and 4 pm Eastern time, there will be naught a buzz from my phone.

Dadadada--Vinci!

One day left! One day and I am free of the DaVinci Code Quest on Google! Now, if only I were free of propoganda and the Catholic church's snit with the movie.

For a brilliant review of the movie, please check in with Betty Bowers... I'm still laughing over the reference to Tom Hanks as a Don Knotts with a greasy mullet and the Pope in Prada.

Otherwise, it's a Tuesday.

Stupid things

There are really a lot of things that are stupid in television advertising; but the one thing that really pisses me off are hair product commericals that show the strength that is garnered from their product by tying someone's hair in a knot. What in the hell is this supposed to signify? No rational person ties her hair in a knot on purpose--EVER.

Monday Sucks

Where to begin? Ahh, how about to the tune of the Mickey Mouse song... as my mom did today on my voicemail...ready?

M-O-N-D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S
Monday Sucks!

Feel better? Me neither.

I know I should not be amused by someone needing to have brain surgery after falling out of a coconut tree, but it made me laugh today. I'm not sure what this says about me, and normally, I would not laugh in the face of someone needing to have this kind of surgery, but anything involving Keith Richards makes me laugh. I think back to when I lived in NYC and these particularly insensitive morning DJs (oxymoron, I know) would make fun of Mick and Keith and had really bad impersonators of them. Now, it is in my head when I think of Richards...

I did a little bit of catch up this weekend; as in catching up on my slack. Friday found me in the midst of a beer and tequila binge that could only be on par with a no longer relevant Mexican holiday absconded by the USA for our own drinking pleasure. No, no one in the US really needs a reason to get lit on a Friday night, but we DO need a reason for running around drunk on a golf course with a pinata. Any other night, I think my neighbors may have been disturbed enough to call the police, but Friday was Cinco de Mayo and therefore, found acceptable.

The US may be battling over immigration, be we will take their fine tequila, beer, paper mache and yes, their no longer celebrated holidays of victory over the French--because quite honestly, the USKA could not have enough celebration over defeat of the French... of course, we will still take their baguettes and wine. We are nothing, if not a nation of hypocrites.

Speaking of being a nation of hypocrites, on Sunday I managed to finally watch Stephen Colbert's address at the White House Press Correspondents Dinner. After 23 minutes, I nearly thought he was going to be a victim of "friendly fire." Talk about an audience not knowing whether to laugh or try to not look petrified. Definitely nervous--though I did notice Laurence Fishbourne had NO problems laughing until he cried. Well, once the C-Span camera angled on him, I'm sure he was escorted out.

After, I managed to catch up on my current affairs from the previous week, I headed out with Mary to the International Women's Expo in Novi. First, let me say this is the first trip I have ever made to Novi in which I did not go to the Library Pub--I feel somewhat incomplete, as it were. Secondly, Mary's hubby was correct in dubbing it the International Festival of Bitches--or something to that regard. Who ever had the idea that it was good to get a few thousand women together with vendors, free samples and shopping in very contained quarters was a fucking moron. It begins in the parking lot. It took 30 minutes to park; 15 to find a parking location and 15 to wait for the idiot who could not pull out of a parking spot nor drive around another car. This description really does not do the situation justice... let's just say that I could parallel park faster than this woman took pulling out of a parking spot in the lot. Once inside, there was a brethery of pushing and shoving on par with what is normally seen during the 13 hour sale at Marshall Fields--only less friendly. Mary pointed out that she was not being shoved around; apparently, I do not have the look that spells out that I would gut you in a heartbeat if you came near me. My superpowers useless, I relied on Mary's and just kept close.

When all was said and done, I wanted a beer... but being that it WAS a women's expo and all, draught of choice was Bud Light. Because that is apparently what girls drink. I got a Diet Pepsi and we managed to make it unscathed out of the parking lot.

All in all, I had a FABULOUS time. And that's the thing with girls... we don't really care about the extraneous crap--it just makes for fun stories later.

So, what, you may wonder, happened to Saturday? Remember the beer and tequila from Friday? That is what happened to Saturday. I remained firmly planted on the chair, surviving my excesses and watching Johnny Depp to his best Keith Richards ala Pirates of the Caribbean.

And that, folks, brings us full circle.

M-O-N-D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S!!!

The brilliance of Bob

After 2 years of negotiations, XM radio had its first show hosted by Bob Dylan. For those of you just tuning in, or are completely clueless, Bob is one of my most significant influences--it was Bob's writing that made me realize the complete and utter uselessness of words; which I find is the one of the most important lessons a writer can exerience. Words, on their own, are nothingness. Some of you are scratching your heads wondering what the fuck I'm talking about and still others are nodding in agreement, or disagreement. This may seem a little like a digression, but it isn't.

Bob closed his first show out with the following:

Until next week, you are all my sunshine. If you think the summer sun is too hot, just remember at least you don't have to shovel it.

Again, some of you are probably wondering: What the fuck?? And that is perfectly okay, I will return at some point to my tirades on Britney and Jessica, and we all know Angelina is due to bust out the genetic equivalent of a mythic god soon--we will get back to that all, I promise.

It is statements like the one he closed with that are absolute genius and complete rubbish all at the same time. If you look at what it means, deconstruct the language, you end up with a jumble of jibberish... BUT, the brilliance of Bob is that he knows this, relies on it and lets people think about it for themselves. He says it and it makes the AP... this quote, this particular line of random words strung together more than any other, caused someone to turn his head and think, "This is good. I have to find a way to work this into the story."

And, unless you are a journalist on the Hunter Thompson caliber, you don't get a lot of gems writing for the AP. Hell, if you are a journalist on the Thompson tract, the AP won't keep you for long... but that is a digression. I'm guessing this little stroke of metaphor was the highlight of the day for guy who wrote the AP article. Because, let's face it, it's a bullshit story to cover Dylan on XM. Yeah, it's cool he's on XM and yeah, he's still prolific, but most people don't care; most people have far bigger issues to be apathetic about...

Which leads me to wonder; Dylan is still prolific, but is he still relevant? And should he be? Should he ever have been? He shunned the "voice of his generation" label so many times that now he embraces it as a joke at the opening of his shows. Don't ponder it too long... the summer suns a'comin'.

5 more days of torture

So, there is this thing on Google... The DaVinci Code Quest whereby each day you get a puzzle and some random question upon successful completion of the puzzle--nothing too terribly difficult. At the end of the quest, they are giving out some outrageous prize to one person... ok, fine. I started the quest, I was curious. I know I'm not going to win, but now I can't NOT do the puzzle each day. And it is at that point that I don't want to do it anymore, but I can't not do it--I've come this far, I must finish the bastard out. I tried to skip a day, but it taunted me.

I have no idea if this is my competitive side or my OCD taking over, but from what I can garnered, there are 5 more puzzles and that means 5 more days. I doubt there will be a holy fucking grail at the end--or any kind of sense of accomplishment other than the relief that it is over.

Another decent book that will probably be a bad movie... there are some roles that were meant for Tom Hanks, I don't think this was one of them.

An new image of Jesus

"What would Jesus direct?"

This was a panel discussion at Tribeca.

It brings to image the classic caucasian image of Jesus with the beard and long wavy hair... edit that: View goatee and ponytail with dark Ray Bans, torn and faded jeans and a tee that reads "don't fuck with the big guy."

It's a stupid question for a discussion board. The only concept of Jesus that exists is in the set timeframe of a few thousand years ago... you don't and cannot transplate those times and knowledge base with the current. You run into a lot of problems that way.

I understand the sentiment--but the guise it takes pisses me off.

Bad book=bad movie?

The Devil Wears Prada... well, aside from being a statement of utter taste on part of the Devil, it is also the name of a chick lit book I did not enjoy enough to finish--though, I did make it 3/4 of the way through before I said enough. Now, they are making this into a movie. The premise is that an entry-level girl in publishing gets an assistantship at a fashion magazine and her boss makes her miserable and she has man trouble and the rest is formula history.

Spare me.

Inked!

After nearly 1.5 hours I left the tattoo place with one of the most intricate tatts I've gotten yet. I also got it on my hip, so sitting it a little painful right now. It is awesome, though. I only got the head of the Chesire cat (reference previous post)... I will get the tail later. By the time we enlarged the head to get all the detail, the tail wouldn't fit on the same hip... so the tail will come later and on the other hip.

Now, moving onto the cinco de mayo fiesta para manana. I made the salsa and the jello shots and this divine flourless chocolate jalapeno cake...

Ole!

Random Media

It seems in my inability to truly care, I failed to report on the K-Fed press release for the month of May that hit yesterday... what he wants us to know is that Britney very much supports his music career.

**YAWN**

In something that I actually do find interest in... there is a new movie, Water... looks worthwhile. The NY Times did a nice write up.

And, in a sequel we all knew was coming... Kim Mathers is seeking custody and spousal support.

Then there is the sequel I'm so tired of hearing about... MI:III. More Tom Cruise than is oft desirable.

Pope on a Trojan Horse

So, in an effort to get with the times, the Pope has requested a report to assess the possibility of allowing condom use inside a marriage if one of the marital partners is infected with HIV/AIDS. Pope Benny has to be aware that it is a slippery slope to be careful of... you allow one person in a marriage to use a condom and next thing you know, others start doing it, then non-married people... *GASP* It's damn near Armageddon.

Drug Rush

Rush Limbaugh in a drug bust... goddess I love the irony!!

Oh, I have nothing more to say on this--just playing catch up.

Good news for golddiggers everywhere...

Look out Kanye... golddiggers everywhere are celebrating the victory of Anna Nicole Smith in the Supreme Court today. In what has turned out to be a unanimous decision by the justices, they have freed up Anna Nicole to continue in pursuit of a portion of her late husbands assets--nearly $2 billion.