About this time last year, Amber and I started getting weird anonymous posts on our blogs. I can’t remember the exact sequence of events, but I’m pretty sure they started on hers first. I probably replied snarkily to an anonymous comment at her place (I’d link, but The Phallic Pen has since been laid to rest), which served as an accidental invitation for the anonymous poster to come on over to my place and leave…
This morning, I’m dreaming: I’m at my great-grandmother’s house, walking on her patio out back, marveling at the trees, especially one whose branches form the outline of a skeleton, in repose, with an extraordinarily defined ribcage. And then somehow I find myself inside, though the interior of the house isn’t laid out like it is in reality, and I’m frantically trying to get someone to help me trim the ferrets’ nails and clean their ears…
Don’t forget to watch Dane Cook host SNL tonight, those of you lucky enough to be sitting at home on a Saturday night.
It occurs to me that I never posted an update on my grandmother’s situation. Turns out the mass is caused by the thinning of her stomach muscles. Or something like that. The important thing is, it’s not a malignant cancerous tumor. And for that I am so grateful.
That is a scary monkey This piece of King Kong fluff has got me excited. Peter Jackson rules.
From here on out, I decree that Mallard Fillmore be referred to as “The Daily Strawman,” for its insipid and indefensible reliance on logical fallacies to make its points. Man, I hate that cartoon.
I’ve been steaming over NRO columnist John Derbyshire’s recent (now infamous) comments regarding women’s sexual attractiveness peaking at 20, but I haven’t much had the time to sit down and hash out a response that hasn’t already been offered by quicker, more insightful writers than I. In full, he wrote: Jennifer’s bristols. Did I buy, or browse, a copy of the November 17 GQ, in order to get a look at Jennifer Aniston’s bristols?** No,…
• Drinking Coke out of a smelly can• Quietly enjoying a bowl of soup and conversation when Howey starts making awful, loud, cat-in-horrific-pain noises, only to discover that he’s fighting with some stray cat through the front window• Trying to sleep with a cat repeatedly shoving his paw in my face• Waking up and coming downstairs to discover that the reason I woke up all tense and in a ball is because it’s 55 degrees…
When you have a PR peddler questioning your ethics, you know you’ve gone too far. Here’s my original post on the matter. (Quick catch-up: The U.S. military has paid a D.C. firm to pay for and plant pro-American stories in Iraqi news outlets and I find that pretty dern low.) From PR maverick Richard Edelman’s blog: This is utterly unacceptable behavior. In no way does this describe public relations. It is pay for play and…
The Chicago Tribune is cutting 28 editorial positions, but they’re switching to a 24-hour news desk that will publish to their website around the clock. To my knowledge, the Tribune must be among the first wave of papers to go to such a format. I know there are papers that run continuously updated AP strings (I suspected it’s an automated function of the site in many cases), but I’ve not yet heard of a 24-hour…
You must be logged in to post a comment.