Friday, December 08, 2006


I've been offline a lot lately.

Working hard. You know how it is.

Taking charge. Running the show. Being all I can be.

Taking it to the streets. Being the ball. Rocking the Casbah.

Breaking Benjamins. Counting Crows. Whistling Dixie. Sitting on the dock of the bay. Kissing the ring. Making the donuts. Burning the midnight oil. Bringing home Kevin's bacon. Jumping the shark. Holding the line. Burying the hatchet. Raising the roof. Lowering the floor. Widening the walls. Expanding the corners. Singing the blues. Running the table. Spilling the beans. Pleading the fifth. Playing the fool. Joining the club. Honing in. Maxing out. Cornering the market. Collecting the rent. Searching for Bobby Fischer. Flying the coop. Paying the piper. Making the grade. Cutting the cheese. Folding the laundry.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been busy doing other shit. And that means I have a lot to tell due time, of course. Stick with me.

More to come.


The phrase confuses me. I've left more than my share of dumps over the years, but I've never once so much as contemplated, for even a second, taking one. Where would I take it? And what would I do with it when I get it there? Sorry. I'm perfectly content leaving my dumps...wherever they may fall.

Good day!


Here's a little humor that was sent to me this week from Hawaii Steve-O. In addition to a prosaic stream of porno bloopers and pin-up powerpoint presentations (most of which I know to delete without opening by scanning their filename), he's also good for something fun every once in a while - like this dandy tale.

It's a story explaining why we place an angel atop the Christmas tree every year. If you've ever wondered about that tradition, here's a little history by way of viral online storytelling.


When four of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth (Dasher, no doubt) and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked, and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum.

When he went to the cupboard he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink.

In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor.

He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom. Just then the doorbell rang, and a very irritable Santa trudged to the door. He opened it and there was a little angel standing there holding a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to put it?"


Wednesday, December 06, 2006


That's it. I'm done. I can now say that I've seen it all.