No News Is Good News

Where the hell was I? Something about vernacular. Well, that can wait til later.

No news is good news, apparently. Ed hasn't heard from the clinic on the whooping cough which is the desired situation if the results are negative. And so I'm planning on seeing Jay Farrar tonight and Copenhagen tomorrow.

I spent my lunch hour at Ancora supping coffee and reading Bitch, a feminist magazine I picked up at the Willy Street Co-op. It's fairly amusing and has some interesting bits in it but I cringed when I read a letter to the editor that said something to the effect of how men (& womyn) must learn that beauty on the outside comes from beauty on the inside. Or some similarly stupid thing. They are two separate things that are indeed linked. Yet they are distinct - for we men, at least.

Miss Pamela e-mailed me today saying that she might be in town Saturday so she can go to Mimosa and snag a Tibetan singing bowl. Hopefully I'll be around to meet up with her and cruise around State Street and beyond. We may head over to A Woman's Touch so she can check out dildos while I look at the, um, sheaths, I guess. Or whatever you call 'em.

For any Wilco fans, here's their new song, "Just A Kid" from the Sponge Bob soundtrack.

I've got a slew of things on hold for me at the library but it looks like I won't have time to pick them up until Friday. More on that later. I'm outta here and off to meet The Dulcinea for pre-show coffee and such.

License to Ill

Last night I finished reading The Story of English. It was a great read in many respects. Firstly there was the sheer novelty of discovering the origins of many a word. The word "swag", which is something of hip term nowadays as near as I can tell, originated in Australia, for instance. Secondly, there was the history lesson involved. Anglii, Saxons, Jutes, Normans, etc. invading England. Then you have the resulting mix interacting with the Scots, Welsh, and Irish. Zoom ahead in history to the English Empire and you've got English being spread to India and the Americas. They send prisoners to New South Wales and Australian develops. Although the book doesn't go into great depth, it did address some cultural concerns. English continues to pervade the globe as the lingua franca of business, trade, and science yet people in many countries use it as for just that while speaking a native tongue at home and in casual conversation. For some people, English is seen as an intrusion. Yet others view it as a path out of poverty and a step onto the road of modernization. I really had to laugh at some of the quotes from cultural elites throughout the ages who have bemoaned that the general populace doesn't speak Standard or "correct" English. There are quotes from various members of the House of Lords as well as folks like William Safire. Rather than seeing language as an organic entity which is used by people to suit their needs and something that grows and evolves, they castigate the lower classes for remaining ignorant of the "proper" way to speak English. Fucking conservatives. They're probably Xtians too.

I really want to find the TV series on DVD and watch it as I had a blast reading various dialects, such as patois, and trying to understand them, trying to relate them to the Standard English that I use. I wish I had the book here to quote something but, alas, I do not.

One of the many tangents my mind went off on while reading the book was to think about the flavor of English that I speak. I'm reasonably well-spoken in Standard English yet, especially in college, I've had conversations that people who weren't my friends wouldn't understand completely. This isn't because we'd developed our dialect or any such thing but rather because we used an incredible amount of slang and colloquialisms.

Like many young folk, we quoted (and continue to) the many films, songs, and TV shows like Stanley kubrick's films so lines from 2001 and Full Metal Jacket were common. Plus we picked up some Nadsat from A Clockwork Orange. The Simpsons has always been a favorite. Monty Python and a whole host of English TV shows provided fodder for our linguistic exploits. Sometimes quoting wasn't even needed - just an accent or some change of voice.

But we also adopted or came up with our own words and phrases. For example, instead of exclaiming, "Shit!", we started using "Daily!" Originally it referred to something that went wrong on a quotidian basis but it evenutally we started to use it as a general expression of frustration. "Hoolie" is another one. I got it from a former roommate, Wally, who got it from a friend of his in Oconomowoc. It's a synonym for "thingamajig" or "whatchamcallit".

Christ! A co-worker who'd been out ill for a few days came back today. There's a chance he had the whooping cough. Although he's not infectious, he may have been in that stage last week when he was here so I may have been exposed to it. Fuck! I don't wanna have to go to a doctor as I have no insurance and I don't want to be quarantined. There's the Jay Farrar show tonight and then Copenhagen tomorrow. God dammit! The guy is expecting the results of a test today so I hope to find out soon. Since I may not go to the Jay Farrar show tonight, I've put in Stone, Steel & Bright Lights. "Fool King's Crown" is a-rockin'! I must remember to head over to Mad City Music to see if they have a copy of that Live EP.

The Blue and the Red

I started to write an entry yesterday but didn't get very far by the end of the workday so I 86'd it. I also meant to compose something when I got home yesterday but didn't have the time as Lush called me over to his house to watch Kill Bill 2. Wendy and Hannah were both up north so it was just us. We chatted a bit about our dismay over Dubya's re-election. It's funny how most every conversation I have had with friends the past week has included at least some recognition of our apprehension over this matter. In fact, shortly after Lush called, the phone rang again and I found Andy, a friend from a fellow blue state, on the other end. While he had ostensibly called for some computer help, the conversation predictably drifted towards the election. While I don't lay claim to the following being of Gallop quality, a number of friends who reside in big cites, including Oakland, Milwaukee, and Chicago, have expressed deep anger with the folks in red states. These people have advanced the same argument, however legitimate: it is people in big cities, i.e. - in blue states, that are the targets of terrorism yet it is the folks in red states who dictate how cities will be protected and the "war on terrorism" is to be executed. On top of this, a small sampling of folks in England gave their opinion:

"Every single person I spoke to - English, Danish, Germans, Greeks, Italians, Chinese, Indians, Africans - every single one of them (and I work in an international community) are shocked, angry, dismayed and sickened.

Every one of them."

Oh, that just ain't good. I am hoping that the Dubya junta can be contained for a couple years until the midterms. I'm not sure how many Senate seats will be up for grabs but we lefties had better damn well do our best to ensure the Dems control it come 2007. Whilst I have a lot to say regarding about last weeks tragedy, I'm going to save that for later when my mind is in a more ordered frame.

For those with an insatiable appetite for the political, I recommend this site. Now, I will instead bore you with lust.

CZ has been my morning destination the past 2 days for go juice. J is looking mighty fine. It's a shame that she'll be moving come next spring. Hey, I know that I'll never get into her pants but chatting with her for a few minutes in the still dark morning makes things brighter.

Since BJ came in late this morning and is spending the afternoon over at DOA, Miss Sarah has been coming to me for print outs. And, lemme tell ya, I have been flirting heavily. In fact, I may have sexually harrassed her about half an hour ago. Hey, she asked for me to entertain her. So I related to her the etymological things I'd learned at lunch and told her that, when she got to my desk, I had been listening to the song, "Poontang Little, Poontang Small". (Well, that's the kind of stuff John Lomax came up with when he recorded at prisons.) She laughed but I am hoping she isn't taking offense.

It's such a pleasure to have a beautiful blonde come to your desk every hour. This morning, as we waited for the printer to spew out a couple jobs, I managed to peek into her blouse. The bit between two button had puckered allowing a nice view. Oh, my brothers, it was glorious. I viddied part of one of her groodies. Nary a hint of bra to be found - just a bulge of nice pale skin. And now onto matters less pruriently inclined.

Don't forget: Firefox 1.0 was released today. Go make the swtich if you haven't already.

If, like me, you engage in P2P file sharing on occasion, you might find this article interesting. An interesting tidbit:

"According to an internal study done by one of the majors, between two-thirds and three-quarters of the drop in sales in America had nothing to do with internet piracy. No-one knows how much weight to assign to each of the other explanations: rising physical CD piracy, shrinking retail space, competition from other media, and the quality of the music itself. But creativity doubtless plays an important part."

Doubtless.

Bloody Xtians!

Why do they want to stunt the education of kids? Are dipshits from red states moving here? From the AP:

GRANTSBURG, Wis. - The city's school board has revised its science curriculum to allow the teaching of creationism, prompting an outcry from more than 300 educators who urged that the decision be reversed.

School board members believed that a state law governing the teaching of evolution was too restrictive. The science curriculum "should not be totally inclusive of just one scientific theory," said Joni Burgin, superintendent of the district of 1,000 students in northwest Wisconsin.

Last month, when the board examined its science curriculum, language was added calling for "various models/theories" of origin to be incorporated.

The decision provoked more than 300 biology and religious studies faculty members to write a letter last week urging the Grantsburg board to reverse the policy. It follows a letter sent previously by 43 deans at Wisconsin public universities.

"Insisting that teachers teach alternative theories of origin in biology classes takes time away from real learning, confuses some students and is a misuse of limited class time and public funds," said Don Waller, a botanist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

Wisconsin law mandates that evolution be taught, but school districts are free to create their own curricular standards, said Joe Donovan, a spokesman for the state Department of Public Instruction.

There have been scattered efforts around the nation for other school boards to adopt similar measures. Last month the Dover Area School Board in Pennsylvania voted to require the teaching of alternative theories to evolution, including "intelligent design" — the idea that life is too complex to have developed without a creator.

The state education board in Kansas was heavily criticized in 1999 when it deleted most references to evolution. The decision was reversed in 2001.

In March, the Ohio Board of Education narrowly approved a lesson plan that some critics contended opens the door to teaching creationism.

Reminder

This coming Tuesday, November 9, Firefox 1.0 will be released.

Follow the Chocolate-Covered Road

From the AP:

GROVELAND, N.Y. -- Part of a highway in the Finger Lakes region of western New York State is open again after a chocolate-covered mishap.

Northbound lanes of a highway south of Rochester were closed for five hours last night after a tanker truck crashed and spilled 45,000 pounds of liquid chocolate. State police say there were no serious injuries in the crash.

Troopers say the truck driver swerved to avoid a deer. The truck, from M & M Mars in Elizabethtown, Pa., rolled over and the tanker split, spilling its load.

A road grader had to be brought in to scrape up the chocolate, which also covered a bridge and a car on another road below. The fire chief said it smelled like a Hershey bar -- but no nuts.

Adventures in Downloading

I sent an overly long e-mail to Miss Tomah this morning. I just felt long-winded, I guess.

Fecal matter! I totally forgot to ask for her phone #. Oh well. Later. Anyway, work is dead. Most of the department is out ill or otherwise not inclined to be here. This situation must be the case in other areas as we are getting virtually no problem tickets coming in at all. Everyone takes Friday off, apparently. This being the case, I'm bored shitless. I brought some CDs today and am currently listening to Songs From the Wood by Jethro Tull. Earlier I had on Deep River of Song: Black Appalachia. The song "Poontang Little, Poontang Small" never fails to amuse. Unfortunately, I haven't seen Miss Sarah around here today. Can't say I blame her. Being one of very tiny minority of young women who are not overweight, she must have all the guys ogling and hitting on her. Obviously she doesn't need some dork like me doing the same.

This morning started off well. I got a good night's sleep and stopped at Toad Hill for some java. I found that Ronaldo was there so I got to chat with him and The Caffeinatrix. As I was leaving, Moose walked in and I spent a short while shooting the bull with him. On my way to work, I listened to Air America's Morning Sedition program. Making the fatal mistake of paying attention to Mark Crispin Miller's rant while parallel parking meant that my car was to have some paint scraped off of it. Luckily it was near the area where there was already paint missing so I didn't feel so bad.

I had lunch with an account rep from my contracting firm as well as the other contractors here. The long-promised hiring of us sub-contractors has been delayed due to the company's acquisition of another company. And so benefits remain a dream. Count me among the however many millions of people Kerry kept saying had no health insurance. The rep said that our contract here was still set to run through March which runs counter to the conversation I overheard here that indicated we'd be let go shortly after New Year's once all the employees vacations were over. What a wonderful prospect: ringing in the new year by losing my job.

Yesterday evening I put in motion the downloading of several items. One of them is the The Conet Project: Recordings of Shortwave Numbers Stations. These are the mysterious broadcasts of numbers and/or words that are repeated, presumably for the benefit of agents of espionage by their taskmasters. Examples of these are to be found at the end of "Poor Places" by Wilco with the womyn repeating, "yankee...hotel...foxtrot" and at the end of "Even Less" by Porcupine Tree where a disembodied female voice repeats a series of numbers. I suppose I downloaded it more out of novelty than anything else but I may find a use for a track or two in a mix CD someday down the line.

Another ditty is the first CD of The Caedmon Poetry Collection: A Century of Poets Reading Their Work. Hopefully someone will post the second and third CDs but especially the third as it features T.S. Eliot reading "The Wasteland". I don't know whether he reads it in its entirety or not. If not, hopefully The Fire Sermon is included as I think it's fucking awesome. I also set it to snag a slew of Doctor Who related tidbits. No audio dramas, just compilations of the incidental music used in them and interviews with the actors and writers. One of them is a DVD about Paul McGann, who plays the seventh Doctor. Oh, I am also trying to snag the first episode of the Remembrance of the Daleks DVD. The rest of the downloads consist of TTC lectures, mostly philosophy. I'm such a hoarder.

Not too long ago I snagged Great Speeches of the 20th Century. It's really interesting to listen to famous words by their speakers as opposed to merely reading them on the pages of a book or website. Real primary source stuff! Ooh! I see there's a volume 2 out now!

Revenge of the Sith Teaser

A teaser for the final installment of the Star Wars series has been released. Go here for info and links to sites. This site has the trailer for download. For anyone unable to see it, here's the blow-by-blow:

00:07 - 20th Century Fox Logo
00:09 - Lucasfilm Logo
00:14 - "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..."
00:19 - Luke Skywalker in ANH walks out to view the binary sunset on Tatooine.
00:23 - Obi-Wan Kenobi in ANH speaks to Luke about the Jedi.
00:26 - Qui-Gon Jinn in TPM brandishes his saber before the final duel with Darth Maul.
00:27 - Shot from AOTC of the Clonetroopers walking into the transport.
00:29 - Shot from AOTC of the Clonetroopers at the end of the movie with transports lifting off in the background.
00:23 - First Revenge of the Sith shot of Obi-Wan and Anakin with their backs toward the camera, walking up to a window during the day.
00:36 - AOTC shot of Anakin looking evil just before the Tusken slaughter.
00:38 - AOTC shot of Anakin riding the Swoop on Tatooine.
00:41 - ANH Obi-Wan continues his voice-over.
00:42 - Second Revenge of the Sith shot. A hooded Anakin turns to the camera with red and yellow eyes much like Darth Maul's.
00:50 - Shot of erupting volcanoes on Mustafar.
00:56 - Geonosians ride giant beetles in a Mustafar lava field.
00:58 - Black screen with Darth Sidious saying "Lord Vader?" followed by Vader's "Yes Master?" and Sidious' "Riiiiise".
01:04 - Darth Vader, strapped to a table, begins to rise.
01:05 - A hooded Obi-Wan looks up. He is in a darkly lit area with sunlight seen in the background. This is possibly a location on Utapau.
01:06 - Palpatine turns to look at the camera.
01:07 - Vader continues to rise.
01:08 - R2D2 on the Tantive IV.
01:08 - C3PO on the Tantive IV.
01:09 - Padme turns to look at Obi-Wan with a terrified look on her face.
01:09 - Mace Windu raises his saber above his head. This shot is inside Palpatine's office.
01:10 - Vader continues to rise.
01:11 - Chewbacca and Tarfful.
01:12 - Yoda, in Palpatine's doorway, opens his cloak to reveal his saber.
01:13 - Vader finishes his rise and locks into frame.
01:17 - Two starfighters speed past the camera during the Battle of Coruscant.
01:18 - Anakin kisses Padme.
01:19 - Yoda, in Palpatine's office, pulls out his ignited saber and points with it.
01:19 - A starfighter in the Battle of Coruscant speeds along the hull of a capitol ship towards the camera.
01:20 - Mace Windu fights against a red lightsaber in Palpatine's office.
01:20 - A large Wookiee army cheers on the Kashyyyk beach. Republic walkers and troop transports can be seen in the background.
01:21 - Tion Meddon snarls at Obi-Wan.
01:22 - Flaming capitol ship heads into Coruscant with a fire ship spraying water on it.
01:22 - A very angry Anakin does an overhead slash with his saber.
01:23 - R2D2 in a grimy area.
01:24 - Padme, with a ANH Leia haircut, hugs Anakin.
01:24 - A small Naboo cruiser flies away from Mustafar.
01:25 - Obi-Wan and Anakin, both with blue sabers, fight on Mustafar as lava erupts around them.
01:26 - Capitol ships fire on each other above Coruscant.
01:27 - Anakin grab's Obi-Wan's neck with his robotic arm.
01:27 - A "Tri-fighter" flies toward the camera during the Battle of Coruscant.
01:28 - Obi-Wan held near the ground by Anakin.
01:29 - Anakin holds Obi-Wan's saber arm as he continues to force him to the ground.
01:30 - A starship hanger door slams shut.
01:30 - A very angry Darth Sidious swings his red lightsaber at something possibly small and close to the ground.
01:31 - A large explosion on a capitol ship above Coruscant.
01:36 - Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith logo.

Considering Artificial Body Parts

Quality vs. quantity

The Trifecta

Here's three links to various articles relating to Tuesday's tragedy:

Firstly, a survey showing that Bushites are either delusional or wear impenetrable blinders.

Secondly, statistics that belie the notion of the stern morality of red states.

Finally, we have Greg Palast's conclusion that Kerry won.

What a tragedy. Shrinks are probably seeing a sharp rise in customers as lefties flock to them. Spirits were high. Witness The Dulcinea's comment: "When I got my ballot and went to the booth to fill it out, I got all teary. Later I told the kids that I was so anxious to vote because I was hoping we could change the government..."

Too Old to Rock'n'Roll?

Although I was disappointed with the interview falling through, I was pleased to have been able to meet Andy and have hung around backstage. Going into the theater, I held the door open for some college age hippie types. It was nice to see some younger folks going to a Tull show as it seems that the audiences are usually made up of middle aged nostaligia seekers. I weaved through throngs of people and found my seat. The interior of the Overture Center was nice enough and the theater itself was pleasant, if a bit spartan. I had hoped for more decoration but it was not to be. Still, I could look forward to the acoustics. I was in the middle of a row, squeezed in tight by aging Baby Boomers who had no intention of activity beyond applauding. As the show went on, it was readily apparent that there was an abundance of wives who were dragged to the show by their husbands or who refused to let them go without them. The woman next to me displayed absolutely no interest whatsoever in the concert as she sat there with her arms folded for most of it. Why waste $50 like that? With such lethargic concert goers on all sides, I felt uncomfortable. If I were to have stood up and shook my booty, I would have been yelled at to sit down because I was blocking someone's view. Not that there was room to move anyway but it's the thought that counts.

Tull's performance was qutie good. The show started with "Life's A Long Song" which elicited much applause from the appreciative folks. After it died down, Ian congratulated us on our "new" president. As you can imagine, this drew a thunder of boos. He then commented that the new prez looked curiously like the old one. The boos were even louder. Later in the show, drummer Doane Perry, who is American, told the audience that he was grumpy because of the election result.

But the was not political. I was pleased that they did "Jack-in-the-Green". Not only is it a great song, but I have Jack tattooed on my skin. The tour was touted as a chance to see & hear songs rarely or never performed live and so they played "Slipstream", from Aqualung. Although it was neat to hear it, a song from the latter category, it's a very short and fairly insignificant piece in the Tull catalog. They did, however, follow it up with "Mother Goose", a song rarely played live until recently. Both Andy Giddings and Martin Barre added recorder which was a neat touch. The first (and acoustic) set ended with an energized "Bouree".

The electric set was fun but the setlist proved disappointing. Ian's comments at Tull's website indicated that "Hymn 43", a song not performed since 1971, was to be in the mix. Unfortunately, it was not to be last night. It was also unfortunate that they relied so heavily on material from Aqualung. They performed it almost in its entirety. Only "Hymn 43" and "Up to Me" were missed. Granted, most of the crowd enjoyed this but they probably rarely venture beyond that horrid radio format, classic rock. Still, I enjoyed the dynamics of "My God" as well as the flute soloing in the middle. And "Locomotive Breath" is always fun. I could do without hearing "Aqualung" ever again, though. The highlight of the electric set for me was "Farm on the Freeway". It's just a great hard rock song with lots of loud guitar and flute. I hadn't seen that tune live since 1989 so it was a real treat for me.

The performance was good but the crowd was a real downer for me, at least those sitting in my immediate area. There were a handful of times when the crowd showed some genuine enthusiasm. And, at one point, a womyn yelled, "Hey sexy knickers!" But it was sad that it wasn't until the encore - "Locomotive Breath" - that people got out of their seats and only briefly at that. Next time I hope to sit somewhere a bit more spacious when I see them.

On a technical note, the set was not plagued with technical problem as was Monday's show in Iowa. And the sounds in Overture Hall was really good. I rued not bringing my recorder with me as it would have made a nice recording. I wasn't checked for devices and the people around me were so staid that there would have been little crowd noise.

Anyway, I went home both frustrated and satisfied.

Interview Overture

I realized during work yesterday that I had forgotten my ticket. I had my camera, my recorder, a list of questions for Andrew Giddings - just no ticket. Luckily I didn't have to be at the Overture Center until 6ish which left me plenty of time to run home.

I did so and was able to grab a a bowl of gumbo and change out of my business casual attire (with the emphasis on casual) and into something more comfortable. Triple checking that I was a fully armed and operational music journalist, I drove downtown. The lot across from the Overture Center had available spots - on the roof. Having found a spot, I walked over to the Overture. Never having been there before, I found a couple security guards in the foyer and asked where the hell I was supposed to go. They directed me to the back of the hall. So I walked around the building and dealing with another security guard. I told him that I was there to interview one of the band members and showed him the email Tull's publicist had sent me. A series of pleas on his walkie talkie proved fruitless so he told me to just go in and up to the second floor. He unlocked the door and I wandered upstairs and he met me in the hall. A rough-looking guy was hurrying past and the guard asked him if he was with the band. He replied, "I'm the promoter." Things were looking up. I explained to him my situation and he took the copy of the e-mail and disappeared down the hall and into an office. A couple minutes later he reappeared and told me to go back to the box office to pick up my backstage pass and to head over to the office at the end of the hall. Dutifully I did so.

A couple guys with camera were sitting in the office as was a younger man hunched over a laptop. I set my bag down and began to peel the backing off of the pass which was a sticker as opposed to the laminated type. Having cut my nails recently, I found it difficult. Then a woman walked in as if she were looking for someone. I recognized her as Shona Anderson, Ian's wife. Seeing my struggle, she joking remarked that the badges were IQ tests. I'd be mocked by Ian's wife!

I sat down and introduced myself. The 2 older men with cameras turned out to be a couple goofballs who have a show on the cable access channel of a Chicago suburb called Psychobabble. We sat around and shot the shit for a few minutes when the guy who was at the laptop approached me and asked me a question. At first, I didn't understand what he said. It wasn't so much that he had a harsh English accent as much as my brain wasn't working correctly. He repeated his question, "Are you here to interview Ian?" and I realized that he was James Duncan, a.k.a. James Anderson, Ian's son. He played drums on Ian's last two solo albums and I had seen him play on Ian's Rubbing Elbows tour in 2002. He wandered out and I talked with the guys from Illinois some more. They were here to interview Doane Perry.

Various people walked in and out, talking with one another and occasionally pecking away at the laptop. After a short while, Doane was ready and the two guys left. I could hear them greet the drummer. James said that Andy usually eats after rehearsal so it'd be about 20 minutes. And so I waited.

Thinking that I would be pressed for time, I perused my list of questions trying to hone it down to a select 8 or 10. When that was done, I gave the Isthmus a once over. As I was reading, I heard a couple voice so I looked up hoping that James was back to escort me to Andy's dressing room. Instead I found two men clad in black standing in the doorway looking over some papers. One was facing me while the other had his back to me - at an angle. My brain did a doubletake and I realized that the man facing away from me was Ian himself. It was an odd feeling to casually look up and realize that I was in the presence of the man responsible for writing so much music that I have enjoyed over the past 17+ years and about which I've taken apart and analyzed for the past several years. If you were to google my name, a large number of the hits would relate to my writing on Tull. And I'm up to 3 languages now!

I've read enough about Ian and accounts of fans meeting him to know that, while he's not unfriendly at work, he is strictly business. So I felt uncomfortable saying anything to him. He wandered out and back in alone. He was poking at the laptop when I decided that I couldn't let the chance to at least say hello to him go by so I bid him a "Good evening." He turned around and gave me a hasty smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement. He was obviously busy making sure that the night's show was to go off without a hitch and had no time for some goofball from the press. While it would have been nice for him to have said hello, I wasn't surprised by his indifferent reaction. He wandered out and back in with someone else. Apparently Ian was having a problem with the computer. He wasn't sure how to safely remove a USB device of some kind. But they puzzled it eventually.

Ian left and was replaced by more tour folks who proceeded to print out copies of the setlist. The guys from Psychobabble returned and we chatted with the roadies. I asked one of them when they had gotten into Madison and he said that they had arrived on Tuesday. Wandering around town, he was assailed by people asking him about the election - no doubt making sure that he was a Kerry supporter. When he told them that he was not an American, his interlocutors just left him in pursuit of someone else to pester. The road crew were really friendly. At one point, James said that they were going to go to Stillwaters after the show if we wanted to stop by. I told him that it was a frat bar and he replied, "Exactly!" Obviously he takes advantage of his accent and association with a rock band to get pussy. My kinda guy. AT one point, guitarist Martin Barre poked his head in and said hello. One of the Psychobabble guys asked him about his hat and he replied that it was a "hippie hat. An English hippie hat." Martin seemed to be in a very cheerful mood.

The roadies left to distribute the setlists and do any last-minute things that needed to be done while the Psychobabble guys headed to the theater as they had gotten permission to videotape the first couple songs. I looked at the time - 7:07. The show was to start at 7:30 so things looked glum. Roadies scurried in and out of the room. Finally, James returned and hauled me up to Andy's dressing room. If nothing else, I could just meet him and ask a few brief questions. The door was marked with an airplane as Andy got his pilot's license recently and his diary at the Tull website recounted his flight with the Blue Angels. James knocked and Andy answered. He is tall - about 6'4" - and he looked tanned. James explained that I was to do an interview. Andy replied that he had heard nothing from Anne, the publicist. He apologized profusely for not being able to do it. I told him that it was no problem as it was late and there was a gig to do. I shook his hand and told him that it was nice to meet him anyway. He apologized again and I left. Disappointed, I dropped my bag off at my car and headed into the theater after puffing a quick choke.

Feeling Like Marvin

Oh, god I'm so depressed.

Immediately upon coming home, Stevie related to me the humorous story of his wait in line at the poll. While he dresses business casual, he often wears a very formal business coat. Duster length, it has the oversized buttons and the belt hoolie and, in general, it makes him look very Republican. As he stood in line, he noticed fellow citizens glaring at him. He shook it off at first but the gawking continued. Finally, he caught one man giving him the evil eye so he firmly pronounced, "Look, I am not a Republican!" Hearing this, sighs of relief came over the crowd and people remarked to one another how they had been fooled by Stevie's choice of attire. The tale gave me sense of hope. Dems were out in force, at least in my neighborhood, so perhaps I could extrapolate the turnout for Kerry from this.

Marv came over last night to watch the returns with me & Stevie. He was shortly followed by his buddy Shane, who had driven down from Taylor to hang out in the big city. And later on in the night, The Dulcinea put in an appearance. I didn't recognize Shane although I was sure that I'd met him before - years before. Anyway, he was a hoopy frood. He related his tale of drinking in the wee hours of yesterday morning and staggering into the polls drunker than a monkey.

After a few hours dominated by the MSNBC talking heads, I found some Triump the Insult Comic Dog videos on the web and we watched those for some much-needed comic relief. Around 10 Stevie headed up to bed. Within an hour, The Dulcinea and I followed. I was incredibly horny and proceeded to lick and bite most of her torso. (Unfortunately, she was experiencing technical difficulties with her naughty bits.) After that, I was treated to a fantastic blowjob which ended with her jerking me off and letting loose a load all over her breasts. And after that, I treated myself to some sleep. A couple hours later, I woke up parched and contemplated going downstairs for a glass of water. This plan went awry as I got a hardon. The Dulcinea and I mutually agreed that I would again come on her, but, this time, I did it myself. There's just something incredibly arousing about mastrubating while someone watches. Afterwards, I went downstairs for that glass of water. Instead, I lit up a smoky treat and turned on the TV. Much to my chagrin, the same talking heads were there and Kerry's numbers hadn't improved. The Dulicinea came down and sat on the couch hoping that Kerry had taken Ohio but, alas, he hadn't. So we went back to bed and woke up a couple hours later around 5:30 to the sounds of Stevie cleaning up the den & kitchen which were littered with dirty plates and empty beer bottles. Reluctantly, I got up and did my morning routine.

Work today has been pretty slow. In additon to solving a slew of conundrums, I was able to catch up on what I missed yesterday which includes emailing Miss Tomah.

Over the course of the dozen or so emails we've traded with one another, I realize two things:

1) She seems to be a very nice womyn. She's an artist, is intelligent, and comes across as being very down-to-earth. (Yeah, I know it's a grossly over-used term but it fits.)

I am anxious to get into her pants. While the sentiment is crude, it is honest. At what point is it considered to be alright to ask a womyn you know only via the Internet for her phone #? I am unfamiliar with these 21st century dating rules. She let me know her full name early on and now she knows mine. But however much the rules may have changed from the days when my parents were courting, I still feel awkward emailing a strange woman and asking,"So when can I meet you so we can fuck?" I suppose I'll ask for her # in my next email.

I realized that I forgot to bring my Tull ticket with me to work so I'll be having to go home to fetch it. I'm looking forward to this evening. I've never interview a rock musician before, lest one in one of my favorite bands. Plus I'll get to see the Overture Center for the first time.

Well, the end of the workday is nearly upon me. I guess I'll have to expound upon the election later.

From the Convention Floor

This first one shows Fred Risser awarding Anne Nicol Gaylor a lifetime achievement hoolie.



Next we have Ken who, in his 80s, is still going strong. He's been a volunteer with FFRF for ages.



Now here's Steven Pinker laying on the smackdown.



This is Robyn Blumner accepting her Emperor Has No Clothes Award which was slightly damaged in transport.



Here's a candid shot of a local atheist and Dem whose name I can never recall desite having met him a couple times.



Now here's Matthew Rothschild giving Bush hell.



Finally, we have Peter Singer propping his award upon the podium before commenting on the morals of the Dubya administration.

Nirvana Boxed Set

From Billboard:

The Nirvana box set With the Lights Out will take a chronological look at the Kurt Cobain-led band's brief but enormously influential career, beginning with a Led Zeppelin cover from its debut show in 1987 to Cobain solo acoustic performances just prior to his 1994 suicide. The three-CD/one-DVD package is due Nov. 23 via Geffen/UME.

Kicking off with a run through Led Zeppelin's "Heartbreaker," disc one sports early versions of familiar tracks like "Floyd the Barber," "Polly" and "About a Girl," demo recordings of the Leadbelly tracks "Grey Goose," "They Hung Him on a Cross" and "Ain't It a Shame" and undated tracks presumed to have been recorded in 1987 or 1988, such as "Beans," "Clean Up Before She Comes" and "Don't Want It All."

Disc two includes demos for the classic "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and an alternate mix by producer Butch Vig, a 1991 live radio performance of "Dumb" two years before it appeared on the studio album In Utero and such covers as the Velvet Underground's "Here She Comes Now" and the Wipers' "Return of the Rat" and "D-7."

In addition to unreleased acoustic and electric versions of "Rape Me" and an undated run through "All Apologies," some of Nirvana's final studio recordings show up on disc three. Six tracks originate from a January 1993 session in Rio de Janeiro, including "Gallons of Running Alcohol Flows Through the Strip" and "The Other Improv." Cobain's solo home demos of "Do Re Mi," "You Know You're Right" and "All Apologies" close the set.
BAs for the DVD, it includes nine tracks captured at a 1988 rehearsal at the home of bassist Krist Novoselic's mother, 10 previously unreleased live performances of such tracks as Jacques Brel and Rod McKuen's "Seasons in the Sun" (recorded at the Rio sessions) and "Pennyroyal Tea" and the rare 1990 video for "In Bloom."

"With the Lights Out" was originally intended for release in Christmas 2001, to coincide with the 10-year anniversary of Nirvana's breakthrough album, Nevermind. But surviving members Novoselic and Dave Grohl were thwarted by lawsuits from Cobain's widow Courtney Love, who objected to their planned use of the previously "You Know You're Right" in the set.

The dispute was eventually settled in September 2002, with the parties agreeing to earmark "You Know You're Right" for a self-titled Nirvana compilation released the following month.

Here is the track list for "With the Lights Out":

"Heartbreaker" (1987)
"Anorexorcist" (1987)
"White Lace and Strange" (1987)
"Help Me I'm Hungry" (1987)
"Mrs. Butterworth" (1987)
"If You Must" (1988)
"Pen Cap Chew" (1988)
"Downer" (1988)
"Floyd the Barber" (1988)
"Raunchola/Moby Dick" (1988)
"Beans" (undated)
"Don't Want It All" (undated)
"Clean Up Before She Comes" (undated)
"Polly" (1988)
"About a Girl" (1988)
"Blandest" (1988)
"Dive" (1988)
"They Hung Him on a Cross" (1989)
"Grey Goose" (1989)
"Ain't It a Shame" (1989)
"Token Eastern Song" (1989)
"Even in His Youth" (1989)
"Polly" (1989)

Disc two:
"Opinion" (1990)
"Lithium" (1990)
"Been a Son" (1990)
"Sliver" (1989)
"Where Did You Sleep Last Night" (1989)
"Pay To Play" (1990)
"Here She Comes Now" (1990)
"Drain You" (1990)
"Aneurysm" (1990)
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" (1991 demo)
"Breed" (1991)
"Verse Chorus Verse" (1991)
"Old Age" (1991)
"Endless, Nameless" (1991)
"Dumb" (1991)
"D-7" (1990)
"Oh the Guilt" (1992)
"Curmudgeon" (1992)
"Return of the Rat" (1992)
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" (1991 Butch Vig mix)

Disc three:
"Rape Me" (1992 acoustic version)
"Rape Me" (1992 electric version)
"Scentless Apprentice" (1992)
"Heart Shaped Box" (1993)
"I Hate Myself and I Want To Die" (1993)
"Milk It" (1993)
"Moist Vagina" (1993)
"Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through the Strip" (1993)
"The Other Improv" (1993)
"Serve the Servants" (1993)
"Very Ape" (1993)
"Pennyroyal Tea" (1993)
"Marigold" (1993)
"Sappy" (1993)
"Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" (1994)
"Do Re Mi" (1994)
"You Know You're Right" (1994 home demo)
"All Apologies" (undated)

DVD:
"Love Buzz" (1988 rehearsal)
"Scoff" (1988 rehearsal)
"About a Girl" (1988 rehearsal)
"Big Long Now" (1988 rehearsal)
"Immigrant Song" (1988 rehearsal)
"Spank Thru" (1988 rehearsal)
"Hairspray Queen" (1988 rehearsal)
"School" (1988 rehearsal)
"Mr. Moustache" (1988 rehearsal)
"Big Cheese" (1989)
"In Bloom" (music video, 1989)
"Sappy" (1990)
"School" (1990)
"Love Buzz" (1990)
"Pennyroyal Tea" (1991)
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" (1991)
"Territorial Pissings" (1991)
"Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" (1991)
"Talk to Me" (1992)
"Seasons in the Sun" (1993)

T Minus 24 Hours'n'Countin'

In roughly 24 hours we’ll be in media res of a barrage of results from exit polls and election results. Sitting here at work, the gravity of tomorrow’s events is not resting heavily on my mind. Currently the importance of getting the fuck out of here is, however. My freedom will not be realized, unfortunately, for another 2½ hours.

Saturday afternoon I witnessed Peter Singer speak. He looked vaguely familiar for some reason. During his introduction, the speaker said that he had been on NOW with Bill Moyers and that is most certainly where I saw him. (He was interviewed for the same episode as Susan Jacoby.) It was a really great speech that he gave and, when I went to get a book signed by him, he proved to be extremely friendly. I wished that I could actually spend some time with him talking about whatever tripped his trigger. Afterwards I went home having decided to opt out of dinner and the rest. The atmosphere was just irking me for whatever reason and I thought I could be more productive and happier if I were at home where I could write and not have to step outside for a smoky treat. And so I had a mellow Saturday night far away from the throngs of revelers/rioters on State Street.

I woke up early on Sunday morning having been blessed with an extra hour of Daylight Savings Time. A trip down to TH was amusing as Miss Vicki was there as well as the usual crossword puzzle. I noticed that Tull were featured in the WSJ so I hastened to read it. What a bunch of crap! The story was all over the place and had factual inaccuracies. Honestly, it was just boring and I wondered why the guy wasted so much space on Ian Anderson’s sarcastic comments on the bathrooms of venues instead of writing about the tour and Tull’s future.

As long as I’m in a Tull vein, I received confirmation this morning that I’ll be interviewing Andrew Giddings, they’re keyboard player, come Wednesday when they’ll be in town. Although IA would have been more appropriate for GMR, I think it will be fun to interview Andy. Since he’s friends with Honest Dave Pegg, he likes his barley pop and so I’m going to bring him a sampling of some local suds. I’ll have to work on a list of questions for him tonight.

I spent yesterday afternoon/evening/night at Dogger’s playing D&D. We killed a frost salamander as well as a dozen bugbears. Mystina and Hoda have become quite a pair. Whenever we begin infiltrating a keep or lair, Mystina inevitably reconnoiters on her own and encounters some lowly guard whom she knocks unconscious and drags back to the rest of us like a cat who leaves dead mice at your doorstep. Hoda then takes responsibility for interrogation which inevitably ends up like a scene from Abu Ghraib prison.

Mel was doing well. Her speech sounded completely normal. Although she required help, she was mobile. Miss Regan was funny. Not only is she incredibly cute but she’s also turned into a monkey. Pete had her standing on a chair and she proceeded to climb up the rungs of the back of it. She scoots around the floor at breakneck speeds until she finds something interesting like vertical blinds whereupon
she starts banging things together. At one point she fell over face-first into a table leg. I picked her up and she stopped crying in about a second and started motioning to be put down again as there was a bit of detritus on the floor that had caught her eye.

I had a good time casting spells and making googly sounds at Miss Regan. Had I not gone over to Dogger’s, I probably would have gotten laid. The Dulcinea sent me a couple inviting e-mails which included lines like, “I also played with my breasts while I was in the bath. (and after I got out). They are fun.” This was obviously libidospeak and translates roughly as, “I wanted you to call me and say: ‘Hey, your breasts *are* fun! Let's you and me and them get together today!’” Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to actually have fun with any part of her anatomy so I checked out some pr0n online and jacked off in the shower.

Such feelings carried over to this morning so I stopped in at CZ to say hello so Miss Jolene. There is nothing quite like starting one’s Monday with some mild arousal. (Well, actually getting laid before going to work is good.) I would pay to get into her pants. Not my life savings, but pay I would. I think it was The Caffeinatrix who once remarked that
she wasn’t my type; she’s exactly my type. Long hair, boobs – that’s precisely what I’m looking for. And to boot, she has these eyes that draw me in and has a smile that I could fall into – just perfect. But a man’s gotta know his limitations. I asked a barista out before and it ended in disaster after two dates. I had to stop going there. So I learned my lesson and I refuse to ask baristas out on dates because things will inevitably go wrong. You don’t wanna shit where you eat, after all.

The Convention Continues

It's a bit after noon o'clock. I got up just before 7:30 and spent a while sipping coffee and chatting with Stevie before hittin gthe shower. We joked about Bush’s reaction to Osama bin Laden’s latest tirade. All the while he thrust poll results in my face which showed, by-in-large, that Kerry was ahead or had closed the gap. It will be so incredibly nice to be able to wake up and spend some time in the morning without having poll data shoved in my face. A scant few days remain!

Actually, before Stevie awoke, I was granted a short respite. I checked my e-mail and, much to my chagrin, it looks like my interview with Ian Anderson is not to be. However, there remains a chance that I’ll be able to chat with Andrew Giddings, Tull’s keyboard player. I think that would be a hoot! Perhaps I could drag him to a tavern, buy him a few beers, and the dirt on the band. Alright, I know I’m not fooling anyone – there is no dirt to be had on Jethro Tull – but I would still be fun to get the lowdown on one of my favorite musical groups from the inside. Plus, I just dig rapping with musiciians. Although they make me extremely jealous that they have all the ability and I have none, it’s still neat to be able to bask in the glow of those who can create art that moves me so.

Toad Hill stalwarts and friends of Downtown, Dan & Jen, are here at Ancora with their newborn. In addition, Miss April, or perhaps more correctly, Mrs. April, was just here trying desperately to contain a gaggle of young children with an unidentified male. It never ceases to amaze me how my attraction to a womyn decreases when I see her with kids. It’s not that physical attraction decreases but rather I find them less desirable in more over-arching manner. This is certainly not to say that I find motherhood distasteful or any such thing. It is just that kids activate a libidinal warning klaxon within my brain signaling danger. More than likely there’s already a man in the picture or, if there isn’t, she’s looking for commitment, and, in general, casual sex could is easier found elsewhere. This is not always the case – witness The Dulcinea – but I prefer to walk nulliparous pastures.


I just had a nice chat with Dan, Jen, and Dan’s mother, whose name escapes me. Their son is so cute! If memory serves, he’s only a couple weeks old. They had spent part of the morning at the Farmer’s Market. We talked about parenthood, the convention, as well as the impending election. Although I don’t know them very well, I find them to be exceptionally nice folks. Dan is pretty mellow while Jen is more gregarious and always seems to be smiling.

As for the morning bit of the convention, Matthew Rothschild’s speech was the highlight. While I read The Progressive, of which he is editor, and have heard him on the radio, it was an altogether different experience to see and hear him speak in person.

He is fairly tall giving him an authoritative air but he also has this very welcoming, avuncular demeanor. Beneath the pleasantness and between the humorous anecdotes were the bricks of a philippic against Dubya and his injection of religion into our secular government. As a speaker, he has a great ethos and is incredibly articulate. He was able to enrage one moment and then have us laughing the next.

Robyn Blumner followed. This past summer she wrote an editorial for the St. Petersburg Times entitled, “I’m An Athiest – So What?” which I had encountered on the web. So it was interesting to see her in person and get the full story on the article and what prompted her to write it. Apparently the city council members there take turns in having someone say a prayer before sessions. One councilman brought in an atheist who gave a short speech and this highly offensive to various members of the council. This unnerved Blumner, how felt that the paper should write about it. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the editorial boards didn’t find the matter of any import and so it was left to her to pen a screed.

Susan Jacoby, author of Freethinkers: A History of American Secularism. While she was quite animated, she read her cue cards rather hastily which contrasted greatly from her of appearanceappearance on NOW with Bill Moyers. I suppose this made her come across as more of a firebrand and left little or no doubt in my mind that she doesn’t take shit from anyone.

At one point during her speech, she reiterated a point made by most of the speakers: that atheists need to standup for themselves and be more vocal, that we need to come out of the closet, so to speak. For some reason, this seemed especially poignant and moving when she made the remarks. I looked around the room and wondered who among us will do more than merely applaud the sentiment and actually stand and face up to the challenge.

Surveying the people around me, I noticed again what was obvious yesterday night: the vast majority of people at the convention are well into middle age or older. Of course being 50+ doesn’t mean that you can’t kick ass & take names or that you can’t be vocal. It was just that I got the impression that these people were looking for someone younger to do the dirty work. They would be supportive but they weren’t going to be doing much leg-work. I’m not sure why I got this impression. Mayhaps it was just a case of malicious addition: demographics + stereotypes. I’m not trying to rip on the older crowd but it was a bit disheartening to find so few people my age there. The ortgeist of the place just wasn’t my thing so I’m considering skipping out on tonight’s dinner.

For now, I’ve got to return to hear a lawyer speak as well as Peter Singer, a philosopher at Princeton.

Giggle, Giggle

I am just so fucking giddy! I’ve returned from night 1 of the FFRF Convention aglow having met Steven Pinker. He gave a speech which he followed up by taking questions. Then he signed books. I took advantage of this to A) get my copy of The Blank Slate autographed and B) have my picture taken with him.



I am sooo gonna print it out and frame it. Another neat thing about the night was that I learned quite a bit about Anne Nicol Gaylor, FFRF’s founder and president. I didn’t know she was a feminist activist who played an instrumental role in overturning a Wisconsin law restricting the sale of birth control. She is quite a woman. Tomorrow I get to meet Peter Singer, amongst others. Hopefully I’ll run into that blonde who sat in front of me for about a minute tonight before running off to another seat. She had a nice ass, lemme tell ya.

There is an outside chance that I’ll be able to interview Ian Anderson when Jethro Tull comes to town next week. I e-mailed their U.S. press agent asking if it would be possible:

Hi,

It's sort of breaking my heart to pass this time around, because I went through parts of your website and it's extremely smart. In reviewing it, it's obvious that Ian's perfect topic-wise for you and the other guys won't do.

Ian doesn't do a lot of websites, tho'. Every few years I get him to do two or three of the really well known sites. In my experience I've never heard of your site but I'd wager it's got a following.

Let me spend a little more time with your site and try to figure out what to do.

Are you planning to go to the Tull show in Madison? Also what's your phone number?

Anne

Hopefully it’ll pan out.

Cock, Suck, and Fuck Are Not Bad Words

Ticket for Jay Farrar…must…be…purchased…

I think I have found another customer for TH: the AM fraulein at Ancora. I ran into Jessie there this morning and she overheard our conversation. She said that she had been to that café across the street whose-name-must-not-be-spoken and I swiftly reprimanded her.

They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home
Then they'll stone ya when you're tryin’ to slick your bone

My desire to fornicate with her is intense. Let me rephrase that: I really wanna slip her the Polish sausage in the natural casing. As Eddie Cochran would say, that Kobieta is something else. But I’ll be content with The Dulcinea – for now. I mean, I’ve already volunteered to help fund her birth control. I’m just too nice. While she’s not my girlfriend, I still feel obligated to pitch in towards it. After all, I can forego those pleasure-dampening condoms and get to not be a father out of the deal.

Speaking of her, she came (hehe) over a couple nights ago. I was engaged with watching Frontline and my mind was preoccupied with politics and great dislike for Dubya. Honestly, I really wanted to watch the whole thing but with The Dulcinea’s hand in my underwear I quickly got into another mood altogether. Before long we were up in my room and she somehow lost her clothes. It’s rather fun to be clothed while she isn’t. I get this odd sense of control like, “Ha! Ha! You’re wearing clothes and I’m not so you have to submit to my every touch, caress, knead, etc.” From there it was off to graze the sweet bottom grass. The foreplay got me quite excited and I really got into it. My head was bobbing and weaving and gave my tongue those few extra foot-pounds of energy per second, per second. Basking in the afterglow, she pondered aloud if I could get hard again before I fell asleep. Alas, I dashed all of her hopes and proceeded to fall asleep. But not for long.

I was awoken from my post coital slumbers by her hand between my legs. That’s one thing I really like about The Dulcinea: she doesn’t fuck around when it comes to fucking. If she wants to be rogered roundly, she doesn’t let a little thing like the fact that I’m unconscious stop her. She stole into my house during the wee hours one morning after she’d had an evening at the Weary Traveler. (How fortuitous that we don't generally lock our door.) Shortly after she entered my room, I entered her. The odd thing about times like these is my single-mindedness. Once aroused from sleep, the only part of my brain that’s working is the part that thrusts my hips. My mind is in a haze and I barely know when or where I am. Intellectual matters are swept aside. I almost don’t know who I am or who she is. All I do know at that point is to fuck. A wonderful product of evolution am I.

I had fun with you last night - I had forgotten how you react to being touched in the middle of the night, you gasp as if you've been burned, and then moan so deliciously.

OK, I forgot that I gasp and moan too.

Udzielenie Wdzieznosci

Much to my relief, my workday slowly grinds to a close. Only another half hour or so left. It was an unexciting day and I'll be glad when it's over.

The highlights have been A) the flawless performance of my transmission and B) reading The Story of English. I suppose another highlight was the free cuppa joe I got at Ancora. The baristas there are a bunch of hoopy froods. Regarding the first: i got my car back yesterday evening. The cab was about 20 minutes late which was enormously frustrating considering the fact that I called them an hour before I actually needed a lift thinking that such an advance notice would ensure timely execution. So much for that theory. I got to the shop just after they closed but was still able to grab the car. Hastily (and nervously) I pulled out onto E. Wash. I was delighted to find that the gears shifted correctly and smoothly. If I may quote The Boss, who was here in Madison today, she's hummin' like a turbojet. Sorry. "Open All Night" popped into my head.

As I remarked above, my current read is quite good. Either I was an etymologist in a former life or the combination of curiosity & several years of Latin classes has endowed me with a fascination about language. I just find discovering the origins of words to be endlessly cool. And there's plenty of that. E.g. - The Latin word evangelium was transliterated into Old English as god-spell which eventually morphed into gospel. Yeah, I know this is trivial but I could read this stuff for ages and not get bored with it all. I'm getting a bit giddy with anticipation of reading the section on The Great Vowel Shift. What this says about me, I don't wanna know.

Aside from learning about the origins of words, there's also plenty of history involved, which is another joy. You've got the Anglii, the Saxons, and the Jutes storming into the British Isles causing the Celts to take refuge behind the Cambrian Mountains. There's also the Vikings wanting a piece of the pie running roughshod over the poormonks at Lindisfarne.

I found out today that I’ll be working the Friday of Thanksgiving week. This has thrown into doubt any trip to Chicago for holiday on my part. Driving down for a few hours and then driving back to Madison holds no thrill for me. Maybe I shall. But I’ve got time to decide. One thing that tempts me to stay here in town is the chance for some good old introspection. You see Thanksgiving, although not a particularly significant holiday when compared to, say, Christmas, is one that has a lot of meaning for me. And this year will be my first without my father. While there have been many firsts without my father alive these past seven months since his death, Thanksgiving looks to be significant. This day was a favorite of my dad’s. He was an atheist and so he was never very fond of religious holidays. But Thanksgiving allowed him to don the culinary white lab coat and be mad scientist for a day.

His holy grail was an elusive elixir he called “The Perfect Gravy”. It was of just the right consistency with exactly balanced flavors. Of course, he never found the formula but it was all in watching him try. A Jacob’s Ladder sitting on the counter would have been the perfect backdrop. He would be found hunched over the stove diligently stirring a pan of turkey drippings bolstered with some stock for what seemed like a longer span of time than it took the turkey to cook. As a kid, it drove me nuts as I wanted to chow down. As an adult, it gave time to sit around sipping wine and chatting. Over the years, the location and dramatis personae changed, but the filial enrapture of watching the old man in pursuit of his holy grail didn’t. Well, not until a couple years ago.

When my stepmom fell ill with cancer a few years ago, Thanksgiving changed. While there was a dark cloud overhead, we still managed to be festive, to be thankful that Joni was still alive. After her death, Thanksgiving became an ordeal. An ordeal of dealing with a grieving father who drank himself into stupors of tears. Those fourth Thursdays of November in 2001 & 2002 are days I’d rather forget. Last year my dad was living in Louisiana and I here in Wisconsin. We didn’t spend it together but we did talk on the phone. His death in March laid to rest the possibility of spending another holiday together.

I’ve been threatening to take a day and dedicate to some kind of remembrance of my father. For whatever reason, I haven’t gotten around to doing that but I think Thanksgiving would provide an opportune moment to do so. Stevie and Becca will be with family in Portage so I’ll have the house to myself. I can just sit around and look at pictures -- think of him. (And of him in me.)

After finishing The Power of Black Music earlier this week, I had this urge to explore my heritage. The author was black and the book was obviously much more than a mere academic exercise for him. It was about his culture, about his people – it was about him. Before that, I had read Bill Malone’s Don’t Get Above Your Raisin’ so my brain box was inundated with ideas of culture, how it changes, and notions of how it gives a sense of place. It got me thinking of trying to find some discipline and actually undertake an exploration of a bit of my heritage. I’m a bit of a mutt so I would have to choose one of four bloodlines: German, English, Ruthenian (Rusyn), and Polish. Right now I’m leaning towards all things Polish. Not only do I already have an album of Polish folk music, but that Polish deli opened up on Monroe Street. It would be fun to explore the music more thoroughly and expand my Polish culinary bounds beyond pierogi, bigos, and various sweet treats such as kolacky. Plus I could avail myself of the opportunity to learn a spot of the language. After all, I do have a Polish for Beginngers type book. Perhaps, after I learn some conversational Polish, I can head down to Chicago and try it out on those hotties at all those delis and bakeries on Milwaukee Street by my mom’s place. No doubt I’d get a lot of short red roses. I suppose this would also mean that I’d have to start reading Stanislaw Lem – just not in the original quite yet.

No One Stops to See the Colors

The Dulcinea will be coming over later tonight as she has this craving to give me a blowjob. Who am I to argue? I finally got to meet the blonde hottie at work - Sarah. I get to print reports for her tomorrow if BJ is unavailable. And I finally found out the AM hottie's name at Ancora.
And April is summer-bound
And February's blue

I Should Be Reading

I got to meet Fred! While I was walking home, a familiar black VW pulled up and I caught sight of a hound’s head sticking out of the rear window. The Caffeinatrix and Henry were heading out to the dog park to let the hounds play in the last gasps of daylight. Billie was a bit jealous so she pushed her way to the window and generously licked my face. Got home and ate some leftover pork roast. I made about a gallon of gravy so when the pork is all eaten, my dinners will consist of gravy over toast. Well, that an gumbo. I have andouille waiting in the frig and I can’t let it go bad.

Weekend was alright. The highlight was undoubtedly getting laid. It was one of the loudest orgasms I’ve had in a while. After rogering The Dulcinea for however long it was, I told her to get her ass on top. I did my best to stop thrusting my hips and let her do the work. She said, “I want you to come inside me” and I did. It was a shame that she had to go shortly after that because I was left extremely horny all afternoon without her available for seconds.

My current read, The Power of Black Music, has taken a turn for the very interesting. All of the introductory material is out of the way and he’s laid the foundation of his argument. Now we’re into the meat of the matter – the music itself. Now we’re tracking the history of music and seeing how all of the material from the first couple chapters relates to music with which I am familiar. Sitting at Ancora during my lunch hour, I felt this great desire to listen to ragtime. The chapter was full of references to Scott Joplin and his “Maple Leaf Rag” as well as his opera, Treemonisha.

My reading was interrupted periodically by my grabbing a sip of coffee and ogling the baristas. At one point while I was reading, I saw something moving and looked up just in time to see the morning barista with whom I chat zipping by and flashing a weird look at me. I should introduce myself to her sometime. She asked me this morning if I was a student. I guess anyone who reads a lot is mistaken for a student these days. At lunch, one of the hot blondes was manning the coffee urns. (You can’t swing a dead cat in that joint without hitting a schöne blonde Frauen.) I told her that my coffee wasn’t feeling so fresh. Do you suppose baristas mind a little bawdy humor in the afternoon? There’s this triumvirate of blonde womyn there that draw my gaze and I think there might even be a new one. One is just interminably cute, one has the face of a supermodel, while the last has an ass so sweet, it’d make your eyes water. They’re all just swell in my book and just the briefest smile from any of them helps inject a little sunlight into my otherwise cloudy office-ridden day.

Speaking of the office, today wasn’t horrible. I actually had a fairly lengthy chat with BJ in which we shared our affection for dive bars. In addition, I met Ed outside for a square and he related some humorous tales from his days as a health inspector. Someone actually labeled him in a memo as “the spawn of Satan”. That’s quality humor. He wouldn’t let the meat from a truck whose refrigeration had gone out 2 days previously be processed. Instead it was taken away to be rendered and made into – you guessed it – makeup. So, the next time you gals are smearing on the paint, think of those poor animals who sacrificed their rotting corpses for you.

One thing I meant to do but neglected was to look up a book called Creating Shapely Fiction or something similar. It was recommended to me by Madison’s own Heather Skyler. I figure she’s a published author, she teaches writing – whom better to ask? I suppose I can do that tomorrow. For now, I’ve got reading to do.

The Onion Taken Seriously??

Here's a funny ditty about how people are taking stories from The Onion as the gospel truth. I knew about the gaffe by the Chinese newspaper and the Harry Potter thingy, but there are others in here that I never knew about such as the Al-Queda telemarketing bit.

Friday's Meandering Missive

I got the skinny on this deli from the Cap Times:

Madison's first Polish deli -- at least in modern times -- opened this month in Monroe Street's Knickerbocker Place, across from Bluephies and next to Yirgalem Ethiopian restaurant.

At least five Polish-speaking customers have stopped in each day since she's opened, said a surprised Izabela Kozik, 31, who added, "We didn't know how big the Polish community was."

Kozik had been planning the store for four months, ever since her parents, Alex and Janina Kozik, moved to Madison. The elder Koziks operated a store in Trenton, N.J., for many years called Polish Deli.

The Madison store, Alex Polish American Deli, is named for Kozik's father and her 6-year-old son, who share the name Alex.

The family is originally from Tychy, a town in southern Poland. They emigrated in 1988 to Greece before settling in New Jersey. Izabela Kozik moved to Madison in April 2003 after hearing good things about Wisconsin from an uncle who lived in Janesville.

Of Trenton, she said, "Too hot, too crowded. I couldn't stand it. It was time for a change."

The store carries about 30 different luncheon meats including corned beef, pork loin, garlic ham, double smoked ham, chicken head cheese and smoked bacon roll. It also has about 10 types of cheese, different varieties of frozen pierogi (Polish dumplings), juices, sweets, pasta, bread, herring, sauerkraut, mushrooms, pickles, stuffed cabbage and jam.

The deli makes sandwiches to order. They cost $2.50 to $3, depending on the size.

Kozik uses three distributors from Chicago, but if they are out of something or can't deliver, it is not unusual for her to drive to Chicago as early as 4 a.m.

The store doesn't have seating nor does it have a lot of atmosphere yet, but Kozik and her mother imbue the place with all the cheerfulness and personality it needs.

Dick Becker stopped in this week to pick up some items for his neighbors' au pair, who arrived recently from Poland.

"This is to die for," Becker said as he sampled the kielbasa, or Polish sausage.

Although he is of German and Irish ancestry, Becker said shopping at the deli reminds him of his childhood. It was his first time in the shop.

"This is just wonderful. I will definitely be back," he said.

Ann Patkowski-Ubing also visited the deli this week and spoke in her native tongue to Kozik and her mother.

Patkowski-Ubing, who is originally from Poland but has lived in Madison for 17 years, said she used to frequent Euro Food Market, the Polish deli in Middleton, which opened in 2002 and closed earlier this year. She and her husband often travel to Chicago to stock up on traditional Polish foods, but coming to Alex Polish American Deli is much more convenient, Patkowski-Ubing noted.

The deli is open Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. It is closed Sunday. The phone number is 233-9940.

Depending on how things go, I may just be stopping in there tomorrow.

It's pretty slow today and I've started reading Quicksilver in earnest. Since it shares a character with Cryptonomicon, I'm wondering if I should read it first. Dogger said that it wasn't necessary and I'll take his word.

I read one of the articles in the new issue of The Progressive and I was more than a perturbed by it. It was a profile of some UW Nader supporters. These college folks voiced their opinion on the Nader vs. Kerry issue. A highly idealistic bunch, they were very much for the former and thought that voting for Kerry was "selling out", if you will. The article juxtaposes their words with those of the old guard of progressives, the author included, whose mantra is "Anybody but Bush".

I can understand people on both sides of this fence and it seems unfortunate to have such division here as any movement for social change needs both young & old. The older folks provide wisdom, direction, perspective, etc. while the young have energy, idealism, and the constitution for physical confrontation. The youth seem to be saying, "Hey! You said that people should take a stand, follow their consciences, do what they believe to be right. We're doing that." And the elders have gotten all pragmatic on their collective ass. "The important thing at the moment is to get the lesser of 2 evils out of office."

While I am very keen on getting Bush out of office, I am wondering what the criteria of lefty intellectuals are now for voting one's conscience. Exactly how bad does a President have to be for them to abandon a major component of the progressive movement? And I don't mean Nader specifically but a third party generally. Does it not seem logical to vote for Nader or the Green Party if one seeks a viable third party in this country? Or is the creation of a serious counterweight to the Republicrats something that can be done in fits and starts? Maybe every other election cycle we can actually vote our consciences when we can our ballots for President. When you start putting conditions on things, they tend to snowball. From hereon in, there will be excuses and admonitions to vote for Dems instead of supporting a third party. If Bush wins, we'll be told not to vote for the Nader of that time because we have to make sure no one swings into office on Bush's coattails. Then everytime there's a liberal Supreme Court justice who voices his/her wishes to retire, we'll be told to vote for a Dem lest Roe v. Wade be overturned. And on and on it will go.

You can't be successful at removing corporate influence in government if you only try to remove it once very 2 or 3 election cycles. You can't put your aspirations and conscience on hold because there are issues that are "too important" during any particular election cycle. This is politics - there will always be something important at stake. I'm as keen on seeing Dubya sent back to Texas as much as the next Zinn reader but why have we now taken the position that substantial change can only come under certain conditions in the White House? If the situation gets worse, do you lower your standards?

Well, enough of that for now. I got a chance to get some good reading done at lunch and on the bus ride home. The Power of Black Music. While the musicological sections along with transcriptions leaves me flummoxed, such passages are few. The part which grabbed me was in the first chapter and was about the “ring” and “dance, drum, and sing”. The upshot was that these things played a central role in the lives of those people who were dragged kicking and screaming across the Atlantic into slavery. The author’s description of various performances, formal and informal, reminded me of Rashaan Roland Kirk, especially bits about the use of satire and mockery.

I received another email from the shoe-whore from Tomah. (self-described) She is urging me to read The Life of Pi and has indicated that she’ll be moving from Tomah to a more urban area in the near future. So, when do we fuck?

OK, OK. You know where hot womyn congregate? On the bus. There’s this one brunette who takes the same bus I do and she buries her face in a book like I do. She’s just hot. It’s hard to concentrate on a book, at times, when I keep undressing her in my mind. And it gets more difficult now that the weather has taken a turn towards the chillier. She wears more clothes thusly it takes my mind longer to be rid of them. The Dulcinea sent me an email which gave me the warm fuzzies. It read, in part:

”Sex with you is a treat. I really do like it. It isn't hard work. You are fun. I really love that you can now come inside me without worries.”

The last sentence refers to her adoption of birth control.

Oh, here’s a classic headline from the channel3000 website: “More Political Vandalism Rocks Dane County”. How does vandalism “rock” a community? Earthquakes rock counties. Riots rock counties. Violence in general rocks counties but no graffiti. The new issue of Time’s cover story is about a possible genetic basis for religion. Of course they gave it the sensational title of “The God Gene” or something similar. Way to oversimplify genetics.

Now this is how I want my library to look:

To Whom It May Concern

When you fix computers for a living, it is not often that you actually get a chance to help people. Sure, you "help" people to get onto the Net and such but this is nothing serious. People can always live without Internet pr0n and short, acronym-laced e-mails. Today we got the following:

To Whom It May Concern

I am helping for two kids that abandoned by their parent since 1992. Their father left them with us to go out of state to find a job and never returned (no mother was available. He was a single parent). I have been looking for him since then and couldn't find him yet This happened when I was live in Florida).

Then I had to move to Wisconsin in 2000 due to employment reason. I took them with me and obtained the legal guardianship from the family court in Madison.

Both of them are behaving good and doing very good in education. The older one is a senoir in West High School and young one is junior.

The problem that I am having is that their birth has nerver recordered. I inquire several states that they lived (their father mentioned) and no records have been found. I wasn't concern about this very much earlier because I thought that their father would show up one day. That's the reason I didn't want to legally adopt them before they become 16 years of age too.

I went to Vital Record Office in Madison to record their birth but they denied. Can you help me to find the way to do this ?. Me and my wife willing to legally adopt them too. Can the Family court help me on this ?. Please help me.. I want to continue help these kids. They are like my kids now.

Thank you,

Sincerely,

{Name withheld}

Now, this is a serious issue and I'd love to help but have no way to do so. I'm barely given enough info to actually do what we're here to do - fix computers.

I went over to The Dulcinea’s last night ostensibly to talk about whatever it is she wanted to talk about. We talked a bit and then fucked. It was a great example of differences between men & womyn. She wanted to talk and resolve relationship issues and get emotions in order. I wanted to fuck. But I did talk. In all honesty, I did feel bad about what I’d done. I’m not a cold, heartless bastard, ya know. I was genuinely sorry for not having maintained contact with her. On the other hand, I didn’t think the issue warranted hours of conversation. She seemed resigned to my limited candor with her too, which was helpful. I was forgiven, she lifted up her shirt, and, before long, it was up to her bedroom. What was I supposed to do? While I had thought that it might be best to just end it so I wouldn’t have to worry about it and she’d have some kind of definitive something-or-other. But, if I did, then I’d lose my only available source of pussy at the moment. My contacts at the singles sites haven’t panned out as I haven’t heard from one fraulein in a few days and the other in a bit less than that. Was it something I said? Or something I didn’t say?

The Dulcinea informs me that a Polish deli will be opening up on Monroe Street soon – Alex’s Polish American deli. Thank fuck! The prospect of having to drive a minimum of 60 miles during the winter month to find Polish food was beginning to sound unappetizing.

In other news, I’m downloading the latest H2G2 episode, the last Doctor Who drama, some Yes, and a set of recording of arguments made before the Supreme Court. Should be some good listening. Christ, I’ll have to put in a NP thingy for audio book soon. I finished reading Bill Malone’s book – quite good. It was really quite dense but his writing style is easy on the eyes. I found out that you can put The Onion in your My Yahoo page along with all the legit new headlines. I see that the Google Desktop search hoolie is coming under criticism. I must try it out. If it isn’t bad enough that Windows dominates the desktop market, I read that they have a modified version of CE called Windows Automotive to run the computers in cars. Oh fuck. Why does Bill Gates wanna make people troubleshoot blue screens of death in their cars?

His Cross Was Rather Bluhdee!

According to Ian, Tull will be playing some rarities this time around. How fortuitious that I've got a ticket for the show here in Madtown. Read on...

The first set features a plethora of the more acoustic works from over the years. Some familiar, some less so. Some never even played before at a theater near you!

The second set is the electric "Rock" set with, again, some material not yet played live. We have some lost delights from the Aqualung album to schedule into the shows as things progress, like Hymn 43, Slipstream and Up To Me - none of which has ever been played since the original recording in 1971.

I never thought they'd do "Hymn 43" but it somehow seems very appropriate right now with our politicians invoking their deity at every turn.

We Will Not Have an All-Volunteer Army

Work went fairly well today. Business was on the brisk side so I got the opportunity to meet some folks whom I only knew by name. Plus I got to chat a bit with Chuck, a guy with whom I worked at the DOC. Speaking of which, a case came my way which had been appended by Ben Bordelon, Chuck and my former boss. Overall, it was a pretty mellow day and I barely got started on Quicksilver. Oddly enough, they’ve decided to give us some training tomorrow. Here we are in the middle of our third week and now they decide that we need some formal direction. Gotta love the state.

The day was also nice in that I found myself in the company of blondes most of the day who were extremely easy on the eyes. A couple in the AM at Ancora followed by running into one very peripatetic hottie at work. We had a firedrill which gave me ample opportunity to glimpse my co-workers en masse. People even roughly my age are few and far between, though there is this big little baby who’s about 6’5” with long, dark hair. Christ, working my way up her legs to her honeypot would take a year or more. Fuck, starting out at any end of her going towards the honeypot would take ages. Luckily I am a patient kinda guy.

I made the mistake late in the day to pop over to the Isthmus forum. Much to my surprise, one fellow admitted that he was listening to a live rendition of The Lam Lies Down On Broadway. He was then assailed by a couple folks including Prof. Wagstaff who is, in my humble opinion, an arsenugget. And people think I’m a snob. At first I was extremely irritated but I soon mellowed out. In his honor, I’ve put on a nice Genesis gig and you can find out more by clicking on the album cover to the right.

Continuing in the musical vein, I must admit that Bill Malone’s book has gotten very interesting. It’s a bit like listening to a couple month’s worth of his radio show but, as John Madden would say, different. Each chapter takes a different element of the music and relates it to the life of Southern working class folk. Exempli gratia - a chapter on religion in country music. In it, he details the music’s appropriation of religion and how it is expressed. He also comments on the musicians’ use of it as well as the general tenor of religion amongst the people of the South. It’s a fairly quick read and it’s fun to see mention of songs with which I am familiar and find their histories and the social contexts from which they sprang or became popular. I think that, once I’m done with it, I shall continue with the music theme and read The Power of Black Music. That might get me some respect. I say this as people who’ve seen me toting Malone’s text around at work and at Ancora flash dismissive glances at both the book and me.

I’m downloading some lectures right now. One is a history of the U.S. Supreme Court, another about jazz, while the last is entitled “Creating Humans”. The latter has an amusing title but very serious subject matter, namely, method of becoming pregnant besides coitus, abortion, genetic tampering, and human life generally.

If any undecided voters and/or Republicans are reading, please go see Mistress Lola. A glace at her blog reveals that she is in need of s-e-x.

While the chili I just stirred is not my best ever, it ranks high in the heartiness category. A good douche of hot sauce and some käse and we’ll be fine.

The Best in Barley Pop

I finished reading Naomi Klein's No Logo a little while ago which leaves me without an e-book. I must remember to send myself another one tonight. What to read next? Well, what to read at work next - I'm in the middle ofthe paper version of Don't Get Above Your Raisin'. I've taken to reading it before work at Ancora since Stevie is once again giving me lifts to work. And now that I'm spending my lunch hour at Ancora as well, I'm getting some quality mid-afternoon time with the book as well.

Having finished No Logo, I feel compelled to say that it was good. I'm your lefty type so you had to figure I'd enjoy it. Though, admittedly, Klein too oft repeats herself. Her writing style is easy-going but, since the subject matter is complicated at times, it comes across as being faux-intellectual. She just doesn't do a good job of breeding populism with intellectualism. Her rants against multinational corporations & governments give me the sense that she's a populist but only in the most general sense. I get the feeling that she's more at home remaining above the fray to observe with ironic detachment.

Bill Malone's tome is getting a bit repetetive. It's interesting reading, to be sure, but he hasn't really said much new in about 20 pages. I just started chapter 4 so perhaps some uncharted lands are now to be explored.

Work has been pretty uneventful. I pledged to purchase 3lbs. of cookie dough from a co-worker whose son is selling the stuff to raise jinga for the Cub Scouts or some similar organization. The white chocolate chunck/macadamia nut combo pack struck my fancy hard so I went with it.

The Tomah-bound fraulein sent me an email today. Attached were some samples of her art, one of which is a painting of a shoe and is an eerie likeness of my Chuck Taylors. She's a brave lass too as she e-mailed me from her work account which gives me her full name. Luckily I'm not the stalker type. File me under "mostly harmless".

It was a fairly lengthy e-mail and I must admit that she sounds wonderful. Not only is she an artist, but she also loves to write & read. She is in her own words, "...a very very verbal and overall wordy person." In addition, she has a good sense of humor: "...now I feel like the All Powerful Oz! I mean, all powerful ART TEACHER ARTIST!!! You can worship me if you like. :)" Soooooo, when can we fuck?

Having just finished reading about sweatshops and those trying to improve conditions in them, I find it interesting to read that the new Blackfield t-shirt is described as "High quality and ethically sourced (in other words not made in a sweat shop!)"

I am pleased to see a smattering of Wisconsin breweries fared well at this year's Great American Beer Festival. Miller won the award for Large Brewing Company of the Year. Perhaps not a big deal for those of us that try to avoid their swill but it's better than having that wretched joint in St. Louis win it.

Sprecher won Small Brewing Company of the Year. Now that you gotta like. Sprecher Amber is one of the best beers ever. Yeah, it wreaks havoc with my gullet but it doesn't make me violent like the Black Bavarian. Mmm...Black Bavarian...

What else do we have here? Get this - the gold medal for American Lager/Ale or Cream Ale goes to Miller for Red Dog. Wisconsin fairs well in the Fruit & Vegetable Beer category with New Glarus' Raspberry Tart taking the gold and Leine's Berry Weiss getting bronze. I take it that they got tired of giving the gold to New Glarus for their Belgian Cherry Ale so they chose their other fruity potable. New Glarus also got a gold for their Brown Ale in the Wood and Barrel-Aged Beer category. I swear to fuck, Dan can do no wrong.

Next up I see that bronze for best Munchner-Style Helles went to Augsburger Golden by Stevens Point Brewery. Miller grabs a silver for Henry Weinhard Amber Light, the 2nd best American -Style "Light" Amber Lager of the competition.

Oh my fuck. Old Swill was found to be the best American-Style Lager ahead of Milwaukee's Beast. That shit nearly killed me in college and not it's getting awards. Continuing, Miller High Life got the silver for American-Style Premium Lagers. What does "premium" mean here exactly? PBR is premium but Schlitz is not. Somebody tell me what the difference is here.

Ooh! Sprecher's Oktoberfest was the #1 German-Style Märzen/Oktoberfest. Leine's Creamy Dark was the bronzed American-Style Dark Lager. Sprecher's Mind Block was bronzed in the Bock category. We Cheeseheads had a virtual lock in the German-Style Strong Bock category with Capital's Autumnal Fire taking the gold and New Glarus' Eisbock the bronze.

Considering that the beer at the Angelic has never been all that impressive to me, I'm surprised that they got a bronze in the American-Style Amber/Red Ale category with its Arch Amber. Finally, Sprecher rounds out the list with a gold for its Scotch Ale in the Strong Scotch Ale category.

Hmmm. I'm thirsty.

I Need A Horse & Carriage

Did I mention my car’s tranny took another digger? Fuck me. But I did get it back in the shop today. Casey seemed rather blithe about the whole thing. But I suppose he’s seen it all before and I probably act the same way when I’m at a customer’s house whose computer is dead in the water.

Pete picked me up from the shop and we went out to Portage to drop off his mom’s car. Being the nice person Sharon is, she bought us dinner. A culinary caveat – don’t get spaghetti at the Tamarack. The pasta was overcooked, the sauce out of a can, and the waitress neglected to bring me hot sauce. She did have a nice ass, though.

I comment upon her poop chute as I’m extremely frisky tonight. Have been all day, curiously enough. It started early when I stopped in at CZ for the first time in a while and said hello to Miss Jolene. This was a calculated maneuver. Being hornier than a two-peckered goat in a fucking bee, I decided to gaze up on lovely visage adorned with long hair. I nearly pitched a tent watching her merely pour a cup of java. We chatted a bit before an intruder entered demanding coffee and I took off. On the other hand, there’s a method to the madness of getting to know your barista. Not only do they know what you drink and how you like it prepared, but they also give you a genuine smile when they greet you. The trend continued later in the morning at Ancora. The helpful and friendly barista there, about whom I’ve written previously, flashed a nice smile and engaged me in conversation. It makes us guys feel special when schöne Frauen smile at us and engage us in light banter. I suspect it also makes us give larger tips. The barista asked if I had seen Michael Moore over the weekend – I hadn’t. What gave it away that I was a lefty? I returned that at lunch in search of coffee and refuge from my cubicle where I could read some more of Bill Malone’s book. Just to get away from there is a relief of Biblical proportions. The really hot blonde was there. I set my book on the counter and she looked at it. No doubt she thinks me a total weenie.



On the bright side, I got a reply from the voluptuous womyn above. (The cropping is of her doing.) Unfortunately she hails from Tomah. Either I did a fantastic job of portraying charisma in my personals ad or the land of Tomah is bereft of remotely interesting men. I’m inclined to the latter. Still, if I can get a piece of action and a working car, I’ll be driving up there faster than a deacon in a whorehouse. And she’s an art teacher so the possibilities for making the beast on two backs in manners creative are many.

I also received a reply today from a fraulein I’ve been corresponding with at a singles site. She indicated that she is a former assistant DA. Oh fuck. She’ll lay down some oral grandiloquence and have me circumlocuting in no time.

Thou Dost Protest

I see that a bunch of janitors are picketing down Wilson across the street from the new courthouse. Apparently Cleanpower treats their janitors for shite. Gee, go figure. I heard a siren as I was walking back in so I presume that they're being arrested as we speak.

Headphones Await

Have I mentioned that my laptop is fucked up after having installed the latest Microsoft patches for Internet Exploder? I don't even use the fucking thing except to download patches! Otherwise I'm Firefox all the way. Unfortunately the Winders Update uses Active X so you've gotta use IE. So now explorer.exe keeps faulting. So it ends and restarts constantly. And you can't open various programs and it's just fucked. I really don't wanna wipe it but it looks like I've gotta. None of the god damned hotfixes appear in Add/ Remove Programs. Ugh!

On an even worse note, my friend Roy has moved back to Norway after 14+ years in exile here in the States. To top things off, he's quite ill too. I'm a bit worried as I don't know all the details yet. It's amusing in the saddest way to read his words about not being able to afford health care in this country. A) It must be fairly serious and B) it says a lot about the priorities in this country.

It looks like my cruise on an aircraft carrier is gonna fall through due to my inability to get paperwork in on time. I'm really mad at myself for this and don't wanna talk about it. At least I'll get the chance to go to the atheist conference and meet Steven Pinker.

I read that 3M has announced they've made aluminum that is 50% transparent. When they get it completely transparent, someone has gotta make a car out of it. The engine too so you can see all the combustion. Wouldn't be a great choice for those wanting to fuck in the back seat, though. Well, unless you happen to be an exhibitionist. I got my absentee ballot today even though it looks like I won't need it. Fuck it, I'll send it in anyway. The sooner Bushy is out of office, the sooner I'll feel less embarrassed about having a philistine running this country. Dred Scott. Please.

Today I received a copy of some erotica based on an incident in which I was involved. To wit:

His cock is so hard, I'm having difficulty keeping it in my mouth as he thrusts his hips toward me, fucking my face. What started out as a slow leisurely exercise has turned into a very energetic activity. My body is in an altered state, breath coming heavy, nipples hard, pussy wet. I can't seem to get enough of him, the taste and smell filling my head. I'm not really hearing his moans and sighs, more just the rush of blood in my head, so it takes me by surprise when I feel his cock begin to pulse in my mouth. In the next moment I am filled with his cum, moaning as it floods my mouth. I swallow and he fills my mouth again. I find myself smiling around the cock still in my mouth, swallowing and licking him clean as he basks in his afterglow. I look up at him with big earnest eyes.

"I am so wet."

He doesn't say anything, but pulls me up onto the couch, pulling the t-shirt off me...

I'm curious to know what happens next as I can't remember. But I'm sure it'll be good.

I've gotta stop air drumming before someone sees me. It's embarrassing enough to have someone see me doing this much less seeing that I do it as gracefully as a one-legged cat trying to bury a turd in a frozen pond. You see, I learned to air drum from Phil Collins as a kid. But I didn't know that he was left-handed so I play the hi-hat & snare like a righty but my tom fills are lefty.

Time to listen to some Doctor Who and fall into the arms of Morpheus.