Saturday, May 13, 2006


I finally did it. I finally listened to Ozzy in my car again. It's been a long time since I've been able to Bark at the Moon with the Oz-man, but this morning I decided it was time to face my demons. I wanted to hear a little "Mama, I'm Coming Home" - you know, in the spirit of Mothers Day weekend. But I've been unable to jam that or anything else by the elder Osbourne since that fateful evening back in December of 1997. I was cruising north on Prospect Avenue. It was snowing. I changed lanes to avoid a left hand turner and


There was a car driving responsibly in my blindspot (yes, that was a subtle dose of sarcasm). I thought I'd performed an adequate check of the road prior to veering right, but apparently I had not. Fortunately, everyone was okay. I remember pulling off onto the next side street with a Monster Burger from Hardee's in my lap and Ozzie screeching loudly at me on all sides: "I'm going off the rails on a crazy train! I'm going off the rails on a crazy train!"

I hit eject and never put that disc back into the car. Not that car, the one I bought after it, or the one I have now. Until this morning. Wet, dangerous road conditions, French Toaster Stick in my hand, I decided to pump some Ozzy. And that wasn't all. I was also going to change lanes. Yeah - crazy. I know.

But that's exactly what I did. Over and over. Swerving from lane to lane as though I were going off the rails of my very own crazy train. I must have changed lanes about a dozen times on North Avenue between Clybourn and Clark. A part of me was hoping I'd get pulled over so I could tell SOMEONE what I was doing. I was so proud of myself.

"I'm getting over an irrational phobia of changing lanes in poor weather while listening to Ozzy Osbourne, officer. Haven't been able to do it for 8 and a half years."

I think the law would understand, not that I was breaking any. As far as I know, it's perfectly legal to change lanes for no reason so long as you signal and aren't endangering other motorists while doing so.

Now that I'm safely home, I must say that I'm feeling much better having faced that demon head on. Tomorrow I plan to speed through the many intersections of downtown while pumping Pete Yorn to bring down another demon. "Stories and cigarettes ruined lives of lesser girls...and I want to know..."

I've got a lot of demons, but not for long. Mama, I'm coming home.


The Nuclear family of the 50's has been supplanted by the Ass family of the third millennium.


Someone told me that the toaster is one of the biggest wastes of electricity and that if I unplugged it I would save money every month. So I tried it and I'll be dipped in shit if my power bill didn't plummet by $1.47 last month. I attribute these savings directly to my unplugged toaster which, thanks to the fact that I am too lazy to plug it back in, got zero use lst month. Oh, and my fridge was also out for a couple days - but those things don't use much electricity.

They do?

I think I'll try unplugging my fridge to see how much energy I save over the course of the month.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006


I watched “2001: A Space Odyssey” last week and – yawn – was it great! Okay, that’s a lie. I didn’t really care for it. I remember seeing it as a kid and thinking it was the longest movie in the world. The second time around my impression was the same. I understand it’s supposed to be a classic tour de force in moviemaking – but I finished it (twice) feeling like I missed something. Not exactly the feeling you want to walk away with after giving nearly three hours of your life to an appliance. The movie was so long it actually had an intermission, which I imagine gave folks in the audience a chance to wake up their dates and compare notes.

Will someone please explain to me the idea behind the star child thing? What’s with the giant fetus floating in space? The monolith in the bedroom? The acid trip on the surface of Jupiter? I didn’t understand any of it. I watched the scenes over again, jumping around from track to track trying to piece together some kind of understanding. Nothing. What the hell is going on here? It all seemed very Pink Floyd to me. I kept watching, patiently watching, very patiently watching...waiting for the movie’s many mysteries to unfold, leaving me inspired with a great sense of awe for Arthur C. Clarke's visionary storytelling.

But as the credits rolled I realized I had far more questions than answers. My first question was "where is disc two"? But there was no second disc. That was it. Further, there wasn't even a bonus track on the DVD with director insights. At least a bonus track would have shed a little light on the plot. Special Feature: Drugs to enhance your 2001 experience. I know there had to be more to that movie than a computer going haywire, but I get the feeling these secrets can only be revealed by a really good pharmacist.

Despite my criticisms, I do understand the movie's long-standing popularity. It was ahead of its time – revolutionary in a way. A visual feast and every science fiction lover’s wet dream on the big screen. But, honestly, it can't play well in today’s ADD espresso shot world. I give Stanley K props for the phenom job he did demonstrating the emptiness and solitude of space in scene after wake-me-up-when-it's-over scene. But how long does it take to show a pod docking? I get it already – the little craft drifts into the big one. Can we move on now so I can flip over to Conan O’Brien?

On the other end of the spectrum there’s George Lucas, who rapidly skips from one special effect to the next like the dog is standing on the remote control. You don’t even know what you’re looking at half the time, but all of those bright laser bursts sure look neat. “If we shake the camera a little more, maybe the audience will feel like they’re in the middle of the action.” Or maybe we’ll wish you’d stop shaking the camera so we can see what the fuck is going on.

Okay, I'm done now.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006


If you’ve ever wondered why you can’t dance – why every time you try to cut a rug, bust a move, and get jiggy wit it you’ve got no moves. It’s because this guy has them all!

This link brought back some memories.


Bush received a letter from Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the President of Iran, earlier this week. This is huge, people. Most world leaders will pick up the phone and give a shout, but this guy lacks people skills – so he sent a letter. I think he may have posted it on his blog, too: Open Letter to the American President.

Upon receiving the letter, Bush immediately tore into the envelope with his teeth and excitedly handed it to Cheney, asking him to read it to him. Cheney obliged.

“Dear Mr. Bush man,” he read aloud. “Why do you think the whole world hates you?” Cheney stopped and looked at Bush who had a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want me to continue?” Cheney asked.

“Yeah – I guess. But that’s a tough question, Dick. I don’t know why the whole world hates me. I’m a likable guy. Everybody thought so a couple years ago. That’s why they voted me prez. They had all those polls – you remember ‘em. Who’d ya rather hang out at a barbecue with, me or that tall guy with the funny hair. And they picked me.”

“I don’t think he’s talking about Americans when he says the whole world hates you. I think he means all the other people in all the other countries. At least here you know you’ve got friends. 38% of us anyhow.”

“Thanks, Dick. You always did know how to put stuff in perspective.”

“No problem. Shall I?” he asked, waving the letter from Iran.

“Oh yes, of course.”

“Why do you think the whole world hates you? I will tell you why. It is because you have poor judgment. It is because your resolve leaves little room for resolution. It is because your meddlesome advisors lead you astray.”

“Dick. Wait. Who’s he talking about there? Meddlesome advisors.”

“I think he means your cabinet – but don’t worry, you’ve replaced most of them.”

“Right. They never agreed with anything I wanted to do. Every time I shared one of your great ideas…or one of Rummy’s clever ideas, they’d tell me I was crazy. We didn’t need all that negativity circling the oval office. We needed swift action. But I digest – please continue.”

“It’s really just more of the same here, George. He questions your motives in the Middle East, condemns your support for Israel, and defends his nation’s sovereign right to protect itself in the event you decide to invade.”

“Invade? Why that’s just crazy talk, Dick. Why on earth would we invade Iran?”

“He seems to suggest it’s because of their oil.”

“They’ve got oil, too? This could be huge, Dick. Huge.”

“That’s where the Nazis went wrong, George. They overextended themselves. You can’t take over the whole world in just a few years. We’ve got to play this thing smart. Afghanistan and Iraq were a good start. Let’s let the next guy worry about North Korea and Iran. All you need to do is keep fanning the flames so they keep sending hostile letter like this one. It’ll play well in the press and win support for a future invasion.”

“Smart thinking, Dick. That’s why I made you veep.”

“Actually, George, I made me veep – remember? You asked me to find the guy most qualified to drive this handbasket to hell and my credentials were unmatched.”

George fished around in one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a bright yellow plastic bag. “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that. Hey, you wanna Funyun? I love these things.”

“No thanks, George. Keep up the good work. What should I do with your letter?”

“Let’s just change the names on it and send it to Kim Jong-Il. What do you think?”


Monday, May 08, 2006


Here’s one of those cool quiz sites where you enter your personal information and it amazes you with deep insights and words of wisdom. I was shocked at how well this damn site knew me personally after I answered just a few simple questions. Anyhow, if you’ve got just a couple minutes, I highly recommend you check it out.

It really works!