Wait for it... wait for it...

There's a reason this Associated Press story isn't bylined -- sometimes virtue is its own reward, and sometimes, like this time, the reward is the gift of writing the story's punchline. Silly snarky APlings.

If this is 1 I refuse to count to 2 and 3

Tim Russert? TIM RUSSERT?! No way. This isn't happening. TIM RUSSERT IS NOT GOING TO MISS THIS PRESIDENTIAL RACE. Take it back.

I'm not sure I can watch either Matthews or Olbermann tonight. Williams alone is making me hurt. Tom Brokaw looks like he's been poleaxed. W. T. F.

This sucks. And leave it to a goddamned natural-born journalist to die in time for the Friday newshole.

Nothing wrong with being wrong

A lovely quote from "literary sleuth" Donald Foster:

"No one who cannot rejoice in the discovery of his own mistakes deserves to be called a scholar."

That entire Observer piece is worth reading, BTW, as we all ponder the Nicholas Carr essay in The Atlantic that everyone's talking about. I have some things to say about that, but that's a fairly personal essay and I want to get it right before I post it. But you'll read it here and nowhere else under my byline, which may tell you a bit about where my thoughts are going...

Coffee? Don't mind if I do

The sad thing about this test result?


OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

I haven't had my first cup today yet. Yet. (HT to Book of Joe, always a pleasure.)

A salad, please

Celebrities really just like us, because I am quite sure I have been served the burger of which Robert Downey Jr. speaks.

Jim Hinde, 1951-2008

I was thinking of Jim Hinde's "Doin' The Perp Walk" today while I watched Dennis Kucinich stand and deliver the patriotic bitchslapping that this lying, corrupt, treasonous administration has been needing for seven long years. I wish Hinde had been with us to hear it too, but he left ahead of the headliner. Dammit.

If you don't live in Seattle, you may never have heard of Jim Hinde; if you do, you may have heard him and not known his name. The should-be-legendary Pike Place Market busker died in his sleep on Monday. A Vietnam vet, sometime ad man, erstwhile hobo, cranky political observer, Emmy recipient and family man, Hinde became the de facto leader of the Pike Place market arts scene and a powerful organizing voice in our community -- horrified that the lessons of the 60s were lost in the rush to Iraq, but putting his shoulder to the wheel to raise your consciousness (and your ass and some bail, as his song went).

If any guitar in my living memory killed fascists, Hinde's was it. He was the real deal and I'm heartsick that I never requested the interview I'd so hoped to get with him. And I'm heartsick that you'll never get to walk down the Market and hear the man playing and singing, because that's a fine Seattle afternoon right there.

Jim Hinde -- Doin' The Perp Walk
Buy Hinde's "Shout Down The Wind: Songs Of Peace, Protest And Patriotism" on CDBaby

(MP3 posted with the hope and belief that if you get just one Hinde song stuck in your head, you're going to buy his work. Support the artist, support the artist's survivors, and support the notion that genuine protest folk has a place in the culture circa 2008.)

OVERSHARING! OVERSHARING!

Dear Scatterplot: I love y'all much, but I did not need to see this. Any knife-related injuries I see today are to be inflicted by Me upon the wicked, and I damn skippy ain't documenting the incidents in photos. (Yes, I said incidents-plural. Been that kind of day so far.) Feel better, Tina, and I hope the hand heals okay, but... AAAAAAAAAAAA!

(And yes, I shared with my own blog because misery loves company. Lots and lots of company. Shall I make some coffee?)

The first time Paul Newman's ever made my day less good

Dammit. I hope very much that these cancer rumors are not true, but divesting himself of Newman's Own... is not a good sign. As is the fact that I'm so unnerved by the rumors that I'm posting something that links to Faux News.

I think I want to go lay on the floor now. And maybe watch Twilight again -- maybe not his best work, but everyone's in it and reasonable fun if you love yourself some cheesy noir, and some Paul Newman.

Obama and the road ahead

Attention young Obama staffers and volunteers: Be advised that not only are you in the presence of a world-changing leader, you're also apparently working for the best boss some of you will ever have. I love this speech because not only is he extremely honest about how much hard work is ahead, he makes you love it. Which is how you know Barack Obama has never worked in a publishing office...

Kalanchoe v Gunn, Round 2

The kalanchoe I received about six months ago (identified thanks to kind readers of the late occasionally-great Tech_Space) is thriving and blooming against all odds, and big enough to topple itself over in its own pot. Obviously relocation is required, but normally that's a death warrant for plants in contact with me. However, the blogosphere assures me that I can't screw this up and am in fact probably just lucky the thing hasn't strangled me in my sleep yet, so... we'll see, won't we?

(Also? That blog, Plants Are The Strangest People, is making me deeply happy in a add-to-my-Bloglines way. Any fellow fan of Bad Astronomy and Wil Wheaton is someone I'm happy to keep reading, even if his flower photos make me feel all inadequate and eye-challenged and whatnot.)

Tony Soprano? He dead.

Definitely. Conclusively. Absolutely. Brains and blood all over the onion rings. If you harbored any doubt that the greatest series finale in the history of HBO ended with the death of our protagonist, Master of Sopranos would like to take this opportunity to beat it right the hell out of you. Amazing analysis; as someone said elsewhere in my RSS reader today, we benefit so much from the efforts of people with obsessions.