The Best Candidate

This is the most helpful, most substantive interview I've seen during all of this hullabaloo, from either the Democrats or the Republicans

It's Time To Play The Music...

Why I Blog

"Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow." - Kurt Vonnegut

Socratic Daemons

You know that little voice in the back of your head that tells you, "This is probably not such a good idea"?  Well, I don't have that voice.  It's not to say I don't hear voices -- sometimes it's like Grand Central Station crossed with the U.N. in there, but I would know if any voice in my head had issued that caveat.

Also, I'll let you dear reader know the first moment if any among the voices in my head sound like Bobcat Goldthwait.  Because that would be hilarious and newsworthy.

Not That The Onus Is On Me...

...to "prove" anything, but I think when I get paid next month I'm just going to go ahead and buy an otoscope, and post a picture of my outer ear canal and eardrum.  Then we can all agree for once and for all whether or not I do have some kind of hardware in my skull (I don't see how it's possible, because I don't recall any recovery time being necessary after the procedure was allegedly performed in 2009.  Weird shit.)

It should at least put to rest any debate that's going on out there among those schizophrenics, tweakers, and other undiagnosed individuals as to whether or not I personally have a government implant.  I mean, I could just be as crazy as everybody else.  That is a possibility...

Quickly Sharing A Good Article...

...On why Joe Biden would be a bad president:

"Just for starters: Biden is a war hawk, a drug warrior (one of the very worst), and committed to "no changes" in old-age entitlements that are not only unsustainable but rob young, relatively poor Americans to give stuff [to] old, relatively wealthy ones. And then there's the logorrhea and the plagiarizing..."

Ping

I guess it's getting close to that time...

Squaw Creek Inn

Ron turned up the volume on the bar TV.  It was his favorite show, STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION, and one of his favorite episodes, the one about the colony of Indians who settled on the planet Dorvan V.  In the episode, Wesley Crusher has a vision during a sweat lodge session in which he sees his father and chooses another, better path in life.  The bar was empty save for William, who was high and toasty on well vodka.  Ron was hip to William's drunk, and since it was just that, put up with his commentary.

"Jesus, Ron, could you imagine us on that flying freakshow, the USS Enterprise?"

"No.  I guess I've tried, but I can't."

"Picture it:  'Computer, please locate Ensign Wesley Crusher.'  You know what?

"What?"

"Crickets chirping, that's what.  And if you'd pressed her, she would have lied, because Majel was a good wife and treated Gene better than he deserved.  That computer, like every other sentient being aboard the Enterprise, loathed Wesley.  He was that precocious whippersnapper everybody prayed would die.  And I think he's the only redshirt who didn't.  (Probably because his mother, Doctor Beverly Crusher, was scarier than a Cardassian in-law at your holodeck wedding.  She was a horrible physician, and malicious.)"

"William, I like this show."

"Oh," continued William, drunk and so far oblivious,"but Deanna Troi was the worst:  'Captain, I think he's hiding something.'  I can't for the life of me figure out why no one just came out and said it:  'Damn, Counselor Troi, you want to know the truth?  We all rein it in around you.  Everybody has something to hide.  Bitch, give the man some privacy.'  She was the most terrifying member of the Enterprise crew."

"So, you headed home?"

"Yeah, I can't watch this shit.  That ship is scary."

William knew he had been 86'd and wobbled to the door."

"Oh, and one more thing, Ron."

"Yeah?"

"Never get quarters with a window.  That's just asking for a heart attack..."

You Know What You Have...

...When you suddenly find out you were wrong about everything?  A good start -- a better start than most people have.  Pat yourself on the back, and carry on.

Big Girls Don't Cry

Fergie learned her lesson.