In which I ramble on hoarsely for an hour

Poor Karl Erikson. In an hour he and I will be chattering away on his Secondhand Radio hour of power, and I've got a cold so ferocious I just might be able to infect people over the phone. Sneezing, gasping for air, fumbling for my handkerchief, and slurping up the hot tea -- yes, I am the perfect freaking guest. Spare a kind thought for him, won't you?

(I, on the other hand, expect to enjoy myself just fine; after all, I'm gonna have the cold whether I'm inflicting it on the rest of the Internet or not. Sharing is caring!)

1... 2...

Mysterious Worlds edition: First, Patrick McGoohan, the eternal Number 6. (We pause here for a very wrong rendition of "Dem Bones.") Second -- oh, lord -- Ricardo Montalban, and whether he's Mr. Roarke or Khan to you, we've just lost one of our most thrilling voice actors. In one day, no less...

From the That'll Larn 'Em! department...

From the indispensable Perfume (Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez), p. 226:

Rose jam is one of the most delicious things ever and, aside from artichokes, one of the few opportunities we have of demonstrating our superiority over flowers by eating them.

Your moment of zen, 2008

David Milch speaks for me:

"The biggest lie is the idea that we are entitled to a meaningful and coherent summarizing, a conclusion, of something which never concludes. In that regard, this is the lie I'm telling myself so I don't set fire to anything."

Every day it really does take learning all over again how to fucking live.

1... 2...

That Voice edition: First, Mark Felt -- Deep Throat -- who acted in defense of democracy, though it's debatable as to whether it was all for the right reasons. And second, Majel Roddenberry, who as the dulcet tones of the Enterprise's shipboard computer boldly went.

(And I am very glad, as we are re, that Miss Lena Horne is not currently our #3. Dammit, EW, don't scare me like that.)

Having fun all wrong, or by proxy anyway

I just spent the greatest communal celebration of my adult life sitting in a dirty apartment while one of my hosts threw up and the other played computer solitaire and asked why anybody gave a damn about politics. Other than the Obama-winning, Libby Dole-smashing, South-Dakota's-actually-sane-re-women's-health-revealing parts I'm feeling rather fucking sorry for myself tonight. On the other end of the country, OTOH, there was much fun to be had, as demonstrated by my friend Jon and his sunroof:

This image of revelry brought to you by The Stranger, to whose cranky news reporter I say fuck you, you don't know what exile is.

I like to live in America!

Courtesy of the wonderful Cagle Post, an editorial cartoon from Thailand that I'd love to have as a poster. Have you voted yet, friends?

1... 2...

One of the great chroniclers of American lives, and one of the great American stories: Studs Terkel passes at 96, and word just reached me today of the not-by-exploding-El-Dorado death of Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal, Martin Scorsese's inspiration for Casino. Working made me want to be a writer; Lefty's story makes me watch Casino every damn time it turns up on TV. And it turns up a lot.

As with Paul Newman, Studs Terkel should have at least gotten a pass 'til Wednesday -- both of them, I think would want to see how this campaign ends. And so let us all hope fervently that whoever the "3" in this trilogy might be, that s/he waits at least a little while before completing the cycle.

(ETA ...and that's three. Oh dammit. Oh dammit, that was so what I was hoping would NOT happen.)

Who? Wait, there's a blog here?!

Yeah, very quiet; thoughts on that when I get my feet back under me. (I love the new gig but the pace is something else, and then there are all these bookshelves I need to finish building. The most-used fixture in the new house appears to be the Time Sink. Does the kitchen in the TARDIS have a Time Sink? I digress.) But I needed to tell someone that I need to have the entire Particle Zoo (and its Antimatter Annex) shipped to me immediately. That is all. (HT to Book of Joe.)

Why I still love my poor dead bank

If you got just funny left and not much dignity, work the funny. New WaMu ad today:



HT to ChangeOrder, via Gawker.