Just random words

Ah, you gotta love that schizophrenic Tennessee weather. It seemed sort of constipated all month, teeming with foreboding and excess moisture. And suddenly yesterday, in a burst of relief and pain, the sky coughed up and spit out tornadoes and hail and rain and wind, and when it was all over, the sky turned a sick tangerine orange and I was sure I would turn around at my desk and see through the plate glass giant UFOs breaching the horizon, finally giving in to their urge to just mow us down and plant new DNA seeds to start the whole process over again, this time leaving out the hubris gene.

But today it’s marvelous and crisp here, and chilly enough to break out the trenchcoat, which gives me oodles of inexplicable joy.

Thanksgiving is a week from tomorrow. I’m still not quite able to wrap my soft human brain around that, because that means it’s only roughly a month until Christmas, which means I need to kick my shit into gear and boost that credit card debt right back up to where it was last year!

But before we all kick our collective shit into gear, I’d like to point you to these two stories by Slate on newspapers and the media. The first is a depressing cautionary tale about buying newspapers and why no one wants to do it, and the second made me smile because it stirred up a memory from Sidelines involving a Weezer lyric used as a headline for a standalone (“On an island in the sun”) that Cox and I (I think … correct my memory if it’s wrong) pushed through, insisting that everyone would get it.