Considerations Before The Holiday

Public schools and their political correctness make for silly bedfellows at times. The word "Thanksgiving" doesn't seem to be tied into anything overtly religious; the title says thanks, not "praise the Lord." So I found it interesting when the Child came home from school insisting it was called "Turkey Day," because that is what the teacher was telling all the kids to call it. Since the inoffensive Thanksgiving Day moniker is, obviously, too offensive. Hence why she didn't check spelling...

Hoppy Thonksgiving

The Ish Report, 11-whatevertodayis-2010

So I was driving to work this morning when the damnedest thing happened: this older gentleman in a Chevrolet midsize pickup decided to declare his angst for pedal-depression with a more active form of protest in hitting my car. He was very enthusiastic about it -- and I'm definitely quoting what I presumed my make-believe telepathy would have uncovered -- thinking often that he was "sticking it to the Man." Somehow.

I'm fine. I smell like shit and piss, because the older gentleman had some issues controlling himself while we were exchanging information. Otherwise I'm fine. Except for the blood.

Ella's Still Entertaining But That Depends On What You Find Entertaining (Plus A Few Other Things)

First of all, forget what you thought you knew. Ella Fitzgerald is not dead. She is alive and well, and she is on Facebook. And apparently, there are people in this world who like what she has to say, dammit.

I Know What New Yorkers Are Complaining About

Last week Wired magazine posted an infographic that visualizes a week's worth of calls to New York City's 311 complaint line and segments them by time of day.  They made use of Lee Byron's streamgraph method to create a visually arresting image, but the results were a letdown (if you ask me). Take a look for yourself here; these complaints are a borefest. I'm not judging, I'm just saying I thought New Yorkers would come up with some more interesting things to complain about. I mean, they're in NEW YORK for crying out loud. Chlorofluorocarbon recovery? Puh-leeeze. You can do better than that, guys.

This is not real.

Here There Be Coda

No matter which way you look at it, this is gratuitous hot action.

Who wants to change oil now?
Now then.

The People Want More Neon

It was a few magical nights ago, there were fireflies flitting about the living room crooning about the wonders of airborne life and the dustiness of the Great Lamp that is their shrine, and Sassy and I were sitting together on the sofa. We were watching television. I believe it was a program about food. I want to point out here, even in the midst of this special moment I'm describing, to make sure we're clear: Sassy likes programming about food and watching it with her makes me hungry, so I go along with minimal protest (unless hockey is on). But I digress. We were being sang to by fireflies somehow. Candles were burning. Neighbors were gathering beneath our balcony holding up lighters and sighing (no mistake, friend: they were sighing loudly and in time) little contented sighs to each other because of how peaceful that spot of sidewalk was.

The Best Post In The World

It has been a time since I have posted anything. It was a difficult time for most of you, I know. But it was tough for me as well because of all my readers, who missed me. I felt their collective agonized yearning for the Ish as waves of astral energy, and it invigorated me during my deadlines, but it also set upon me a terrible burden: the desire to ease the thirst for Ish.

R2D2 Got Out Of His Dreams And Into His Car

Sassy and Kid went to Comic Con in Long Beach this past weekend! It was Sassy's first, and she was pleased. Kid was relieved to finally find his dream car.

In space, nobody cares what your hubcaps look like.