Gonzo, left, just before getting all hopped up on the juice. We took Gonzo to the vet today to get sort of a quality-of-life report since it’s hard for us to tell if he’s in pain or anything like that, and we’re about a third of the way through the time he was projected to Make It. In just a month or so, he’s gained 2 ounces (it’s not fat; it’s the cancer) and one…
Someone in my building has a snazzy, navy blue motorcycle he likes to park out back beside the back door. Every time I pass it I get the urge to tiptoe up to it, put both hands on its shiny torso, shove it over on its side, laugh, and run to hide. It’s not that I have a beef with the guy who owns it, or that I don’t care for motorcycles, or anything like…
Back in my day, we put out the newspaper with chisels and iron and we LIKED IT THAT WAY! Gilbert Cranberg — who may have the funniest old-man name ever — has a column up over at the Nieman Watchdog site (Nieman is the Harvard press watchdog group) decrying the graphic-ication of print news. He calls artists and editors who devote large segments of newsprint to graphics “Space Snatchers,” and claims that by and large…
There’s a collective exhalation of relief at the news that JonBenet Ramsey’s killer has confessed, and it’s quickly transforming into breathless self-flagellation by news outlets and individuals who feel bad that they thought John and Patsy had something to do with the murder all along. But I’m with
“I love my ghetto, fo’ sheezy.” There is no doubt in my mind that I would be happy if I didn’t have cable TV. I’ve lived without it off and on now for several years, and there was a marked increase in my creativity during those periods when the TV was dark. But to say that the Idiot Box is without its occasional merits is blasphemy. There is something to be said for having completely…
There’s a tickle of giddiness in my belly tonight. (It’s not as gross as it sounds.) I’ve just booked a hotel room in Orlando for my upcoming vacation. This is exciting for lots of reasons, the biggest of which is that I’ll be hauling my sister and nephews down there for their first-ever trip to Universal Studios. I’m a sucker for theme parks and I can’t think of a better place to take a 9-year-old…
Hunka hunka burnin’ wax. Tonight after work I followed Craig (from work, not Amber’s Queens Craig; that almost sounds like “Queequeg,” doesn’t it? weird) down to Graceland to set up camp and watch the thousands file in and out of the King’s gates to pay their respects on this, the 29th anniversary of his death. The gates opened up at 9, but the crowd was still surging when we got there at midnight or so.…
Oinkers, oinkers everywhere and not a lump to tweak. Details Magazine, which seems to be about as insipid as any other magazine out there these days, is trumpeting its approval of the latest Hollywood craze — fatties! — by offering up a stupid story and a slideshow of bonafide fat cows. It’s a classy presentation, all right. You’ve got the pig in high heels as the slideshow’s splash page. And then if you pay attention…
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