[TR] Update and other thoughts

Six days without a post is the norm for much of my time on this blog, to the extent that I still, STILL have not yet posted my 500th piece on this site. But it's a bit off from my recent posting habits, so let me assure you, I've still been banging my head on the brick wall that is the Internet, but it's been at a different part, and this time I've begun to see deeper cracks appear.  Team Respect has been live for six days now, and as of right now we've racked up 92 twitter followers, an entry on the debacle "Pratfall of Penny Arcade" timeline, 25 forum members (who have collectively posted 93 times) and 37 likes on facebook.

To be fair, we haven't really been trying on facebook, because nobody we know has any finesse with it.  My twitter chops have the likes of Melissa Harris-Perry and Harry Shearer tossing me @replies. My facebook chops have people in my circle of friends telling me "cool story, bro." If anyone were to offer advice or assistance, that would be killer.

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Valentines Day came and went, but the discounted chocolate remains, as does the bottle of gin my Other of Primary Significance got me for what we refer to as "Hetero-normative Teenybopper Bullshit Day," which rates rather above the "teacher valentine" chocolates I got her and leaves me playing catch-up. It's Rogue Spirits Pink Spruce gin, and having sampled a fair number of juniper-wrought liquors, I have to say this is my favorite. The gin has been infused with spruce oil and seasoned in Oregon Pinot Noir barrels, which come in along with various citrus elements to strike the first chord. It middles with cucumber which continues to the tail end, where it's joined by the juniper and grains of paradise, a peppery spice famously employed in Sam Adams Summer Ale.

I've yet to use it in any mixed drinks, as it's delicious on its own or with ice, but I suspect that combining it with Lillet at martini proportions with a twist of lemon would yield agreeable results. I shall report back when I've tested this hypothesis. Enjoying it in any form you choose along with the lyrical stylings of Garfunkel and Oates comes with my unqualified endorsement

May we all be spared of our parties taking a turn for the douche.

Peace

A lighter note.

The great and wonderful Pia Savage has posted her second Psychology Today piece. In it, she describes her first panic attack, which took place during notebook inspection day in the second grade.

As someone to whom notes were superfluous and taking them was like trying to throw with my off hand, I personally appreciate her sharing her own experience.

I'm going to go ahead and assume that if anyone reading this doesn't already know what's going on in Egypt right now, they can damn well find out on their own and I don't need to speak on it with an unearned air of authority.

I will say this. During the day while I was taking a break from rather dusty housework, I was glued to twitter. among the tweets about the clashes between protesters and brownshirts, something hilarious happened.

The National Organization for Marriage linked this cartoon from Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal  on their blog.

Naturally, they didn't get the joke. For thinking people, culture shock is a source of humor and/or discomfort. For Defenders of Marriage, it's evidence that something is well and truly wrong with the Universe.

SMBC is authored by Zach Weiner, who in addition to having a surname uncannily appropriate for the brand of humor that he has elevated near to the level of High Art, is about the last person who is going to let you get away with subverting his work to fit your message of hate. The thing about hotlinks is that you only control the name of the file that they display. Usually, that's enough.  However...

For me it was a welcome break from hearing about how Anderson Cooper, Katie Couric, Brian Williams, Richard Engel, Nicholas Kristoff, and all of the other reporters out there whose names I can't immediately bring to mind but who are no less worthy of mention are in real danger. Some have said that the attention they've gotten is a distraction, but I disagree.

I warrant that there's a danger of people from the West focusing their sympathies on the people who look like them who came late to the nightmare rather than the people who have lived their whole lives under the conditions that created this crisis, but that's not the only force at work These are the people we invite into our homes every day to get a better understanding of how the world is working. In the United States, their efforts are routine; expected. In Cairo, during this time of crisis, it gives some cause to threaten their lives. If we think only of the faces we know, then we indeed have missed the point.

I am infinitely grateful both for the reporters who shine a light on the darkest moments of human history, and the smart, funny people who make those dark moments easier to bear. Double points for each if they can manage to stand up for the powerless while doing so.

Overdue notes

As has been noted elsewhere, my good friend Pia Savage is now a writer for Psychology Today. Her first piece is here, and it comes with my recommendation. Ms. Savage is welcome to test how much money one must add to that to pay for a cup of coffee.

What's remarkable about Pia's case is that despite having been raised in a family with the means to pay for mental health issues, it was only very recently that she had a diagnosis to go with her problems. A sign of the times, sure, but while medical world has made leaps and bounds in understanding mental health, how have the rest of us been doing? 

This is the point in the post where I make an uncomfortable logical step between someone I love and respect and a deranged madman. Please mind the handrails.

Four years ago I had this to say about the response by some to the classification of  Virginia Tech shooter Seung-Hui Cho as a victim. Or even, more mildly, as someone who fell through the cracks. These days I don't listen to talk radio even by accident, so I don't know how similar remarks about Jared Loughner have been taken, but I've gotten the general sense that the loudmouth morons haven't been pushing back on the mental illness angle this time around, save with the facile supposition that mental illness is in and of itself an explanation for violence. It pretty evidently isn't.

Clearly we need to do better by our more vulnerable citizens, including the mentally infirm, but unless we're aggressive in dismantling outdated notions and misconceptions regarding mental health, those efforts are in danger of taking the shape of "how can we protect ourselves from the mentally ill" rather than "how can we, as a nation, become more mentally healthy?"

The political climate that many-- myself included--  have claimed made the Tuscon shooting more likely may have a silver lining. The pushback against any sense of responsibility amongst political figures for the potential impact of their political rhetoric has satisfied the Right's need for knee-jerk bloodlust, and in an attempt to cover their own asses, have admitted that we have a mental health problem in this country.

That's a first step.  Pia is now helping us out with the second: understanding that the nature of that problem doesn't solely extend to the lack of support structure for the mentally ill. Our society as a whole needs to change its attitude, and stop treating mental health as the concern for "other" people.

Bravo, Pia..

For tonight:

There have been many guides circulating on the Interwebs suggesting State of the Union drinking game rules.  My construction is rather simple:  Drink once on every fifth applause line,  twice on every use of rhetorical balancers (eg "keep employment high and taxes low"), twice on every metaphorical use of the word "call," and drink thrice if anyone heckles. Rules can be added mid-speech provided that a consensus exists. Each player has ten exemptions, and the last person to run out of them (or run out of coordination or consciousness) wins.

For this speech in particular, drain your cup when Obama says the word "Sputnik"

A note here: When I say "drink," I don't mean, "take a shot." There were over a hundred applause lines last SotU, and I'm inclined to believe that this one will have more. Keep that in mind when altering this framework for your own purposes, and when deciding what it is you're going to fill your cup with.

Also, I hope the Disqus comment boards work for everyone.  It scored over other options, including the default blogger, in that it integrated well with my template, it allows for non-Google registered commenters, and that it didn't charge me to set it up.

Enjoy

Assange, Liberals and the Reality-Based Community

I had this post in the can when Tuscon happened, and decided not to put it up at the time.  If I'd written all of it today, the focus would be less on Julian Assange, but here we are.

Julian Assange is not a terrorist.

Let's just get that out of the way.  While we're at it, he's also not somebody who we should be trying to lock up in prison as a spy, because he would love nothing better.  He's not a journalist either.

Most importantly, he's not a hero.

Incidentally, nobody should be surprised by this.  There may be real heroes in the world, but they are vanishingly few.  And we progressives are used to being led by false ones.

There is no math that will tell you that a 2000 Presidential election without Ralph Nader would have produced a President Bush.  Not only did he campaign aggressively in pivotal states, he spread the obscene lie that there was no significant difference between Bush and Gore.  Four years later he has the chutzpah to claim that the significant amount of donor cash he was collecting from Republicans had nothing to do with this.  Lately he's been a guttersnipe, who has unrepentantly referred to Obama as an Uncle Tom. which puts into perspective his 1996 refusal to come out against the referendum in California on ending affirmative action

This is the same man who founded PIRG, which in addition to its invaluable advocacy work employed yours truly for... part... of a summer in '04.  If it weren't for Ralph Nader, I would never have been invited into the home of a mostly-dressed middle aged beatnik couple from Wilmington, MA-- who had clearly been fucking when the doorbell rang-- to discuss energy efficiency standards.  It was one of the few days I exceeded my donation quota.

I'm sorry, I got lost there for a moment.

The impact of Ralph Nader's life's work is unquestionable.  Imagine, for a moment, how different your life would be today if cars weren't required to have seatbelts.  It's hard to even contemplate.  But as was said by Harvey Dent in that crowning political work of our time, Batman, the Dark Knight:  You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Some of our country's worst moments are--and mind you not without accomplices-- causally linked to the fact that so many progressives mistook 2000 Ralph Nader for a hero.  We ought to know better by now.

Of course, you probably don't actually support Julian Assange's politics, because he's an anarchist.  He believes that government secrecy in and of itself bespeaks an authoritarian conspiracy.  Apparently this includes not wanting Russian diplomats to know that our diplomats see Vladimir Putin and Dimitri Medvedev as a kleptocratic Batman and Robin.

Assange isn't doing what he's doing so that you know what your government is up to and are informed as a voter.  He's doing what he's doing so that people who work in governments no longer trust each other, and become ineffectual to the point of international diplomacy crumbling and governments falling under their own weight.  He sees the world as a series of nails, and himself as the wielder of a hammer that would make John Boehner blush, if bronzefolk are capable of blushing.

Julian Assange is also, apparently, a Rorschach test.  Conservatives have been waiting for some time for an intellectual they could pound their fists about and call a terrorist.  Speaking of which, I'd like to take this time to thank Joe Liebermann for his invaluable support in getting DADT repeal over the goal line, and declare "good riddance" re: the entire rest of his career.  He and others have pounded their fists on the table and called for, among other things, Assange's assassination.  Because what we really need are more people gathering under Assange's banner.

In any case, the response from conservatives is easily predictable.  The last two years in conservative commentary and politics have consisted of lies, damned lies, and a total lack of statistics.  But what of the so-called "reality-based community" that we Progressives participate in?  Why are so many on the left demanding that Julian Assange be thought of as something that he's not?  They say he's for transparency, and if that were true, there wouldn't be an entire Wikileaks splinter group that split off precisely because he isn't. They say that the accusations of sexual assault in Sweden are trumped up, but if that were true, wouldn't he have something more to say about it than "this is all just about a broken condom," which couldn't be true, as that would imply that he was only being accused by one woman.

The extent to which Assange's defenders in the United States have dismissively parroted the phrase "sex by surprise" and the distortion about the condom without once considering that maybe-- just maybe-- his accusers are telling the truth is appalling.  Instead of taking a step back when the police report was leaked, many criticized the Guardian for running it.

This break with reality doesn't stop there.  Many prominent progressives lost their shit when Obama administration officials touted the bill that extended the Bush tax cuts as a second stimulus.  They said that Obama had swallowed the trickle-down economics Kool-Aid, despite the fact that the compromises exacted from Republicans in the Senate have proven stimulative effects. The mantra that tax cuts don't create jobs was more important than the truth.  Similarly, Keith Olbermann and Arianna Huffington recently decried the Obama administration's announcement of a year-long study of government regulations with an eye towards simplifying some and cutting others. They said he'd swallowed the Tea Party Kool-Aid that regulation kills jobs, and in so doing, at least Arianna seemed to imply that regulation could never kill jobs.

I was put off by it at the time, despite being a huge fan of Keith's. (Arianna Huffington has never impressed me, and I think it's telling that her first foray into politics was to call for Bill Clinton to resign over the Lewinsky scandal), but the next day, the CBS Evening News ran with this:

(Available also in HTML flavor)




Redundancy is great for computer systems, networks, and point defense, but it's rubbish for rulewriting.

Does this suggest that there's something to it every time a Republican goes to the House or Senate floor and decries the newest Democratic bill as being 'just more burdensome, job-killing regulation'?  Of course not.  For some time now, Republican politicians have come to town claiming to want to overhaul regulation, and then wind up only focusing on the good ones.  Are we really going to get outraged because Obama might suggest that frozen cheese pizzas and frozen pepperoni pizzas be regulated by the same fucking agency?  Did he not thoroughly demonstrate, in the fights for both Healthcare and Wall Street reform, that he believes that regulation done right is a good thing?  Are we so pissed off that he didn't tilt at windmills over the Public Option that we take every chance to say that he's just the same as the other guys?

We have said that it's time for our political discourse to change. This is undeniable.  But we'd be fools to only focus on the intensity of partisan rhetoric.  I call on anyone of any political inclination about to write a column or a blog post, or appear on cable news to do their research first.  If you can support your argument, declaim it with passion but with restraint.  If you can't, say something else.  It's time for us all to stop being salesmen and start being teachers.

Fuuuck, is it 2011 already?

I believe I was in third grade when I learned that during the winter months the Earth is actually closer to the sun.  My teacher used a magnifying glass to explain just why that made sense.  Miss Zimmerman was miles away when I learned that it was because the Earth tilts on its axis, so I never got to have one of these moments, but nevertheless it was one of those mind-expanding moments for me that made me enjoy school to an extent, even if most of the time I was there I was sneaking a book under my desk and falling woefully behind on my work.

Last night I learned that the date at which the Earth begins to move further away from the Sun in the course of its orbit is called perihelion, and that at the time of this writing, we have been moving away from our star for 26 hours.  Next year, perihelion will be on the 5th of January.  At the next leap year, it'll be on the 2nd.

Gaia has been around a great while longer than the Gregorian calendar, and She'll orbit as She damn well pleases, thank you very much.

This is what has been on my mind as I consider the decade that I'm calling the 20-'aughts.

In a few words, it kicked my ass and introduced me to some great people.

I'd like to try and find terms of truce with this new one.

Because I can't seem to fit it in the narrative of the post, I hope everyone had, is having and/or will continue to have a merry and fruitful holiday season

There is a hierarchy of gifts.

The best gifts make one blush at the sheer heft of the expense(of time or money)/consideration/effort/personal significance (usually multiple items from said menu) involved. Some highlight the extent to which the giver knows you. Either they've crafted something that vibrates at a similar pitch to your soul, or they've managed to find something that you'd never thought about owning but find no end of use or enjoyment. Or maybe they've given you something that speaks to the bond shared by the two of you.  In any case, even if you've taken to e-mail or the phone for your thank-yous these days, these ones will have you digging for the stationary and a nice pen.

On a slightly lower level are gifts that are evidence that the other person cares enough about you to pay attention. At some point since the last customary occasion for gift-giving, you mentioned something you needed or lusted after, and they held onto this bit of knowledge until it was time to use it. Bonus points if they went to special effort to keep tabs on whether or not you'd managed to aquire it on your own while simultaneously deflecting any anticipation you may have of what it is.

Then there are those humble tokens that are, at their best, merely neat.  You didn't need them or particularly want them, but all the same it's pretty cool that you have them now.

Each of those tiers has its Platonic ideal, imperfect efforts to achieve that ideal, and backfires("You spent HOW MUCH money so that you could be one of those fuckwads who buys a luxury sedan with a bow on the top as a Christmas gift with no prior consultation with the person who's supposed to be your PARTNER?"), but generally speaking, if you've given a gift that falls into one of those three categories, you've acquitted yourself.

You might say that that's an odd turn of phrase to use to describe giving a gift, but for some people, gift-giving is a part of their job description, as is gift receiving. Witness Hillary Clinton as she sits for an interview with a couple of Australian knuckleheads.



An aside:  You see that part at the very end?  Where the host marvels at the fact that our Secretary of State-- our representative on a world stage littered with the bastard children of the Cold War-- even freaking exists?

That right there was a quick hit of American Exceptionalism, for those of you who may have been jonesing.

A born diplomat can, for the purposes of a discussion, stitch their corner of the world with yours without paying mind to the seam, earnestly dissuading other parties from even noticing that it's there. We should cherish this talent wherever we find it, even if it's possessed by someone about whom we've said and thought fairly mean things in the past (whether or not we would take them back if given the choice). That here the world she's entered is one where a gorilla suit is more likely than a three-piece suit is immaterial.  Even when confronted with fairly odd questions, and there are some more, she responded honestly and in a way that offers unexpected insights.

Personally, I'd like to know how Secretary Clinton would receive a Lamborghini ballcap that doesn't fit and was most likely obtained freely from the sort of confab one goes to if they're the sort of person who might ever buy a Lamborghini-- and, for the purposes of this hypothetical, she isn't, and wouldn't be even if she could afford it-- which was clearly given as a means of keeping up appearances, by someone from whom you expected nothing and whose prior behavior lends one tho believe that they think that this minuscule window into the world of ostentatious motorfuckery, offered to someone who can't afford a used 4-banger, is of value in and of itself.

You know, hypothetically.

It's often been said that it's the thought that counts.  It is far less often noted that this too can be damning.

Lessons

I've just found out that this blog looks its best in widescreen. I know you're all on the way out to go and get shiny new monitors at this new information, but stick around a bit.

Somehow until last night I've managed to live in this town with next to no exposure to live comedy. This is, of course, impossible in Chicago, where if you're into theater at all you are required by law to investigate the sketch, improv, and stand-up comedy there. I was in violation for maybe about a week when a cop stepped over two drunken underage freshmen fucking on the sidewalk, brushed past a gaggle of streetwalkers, declined a proffered bong as he passed by a stoner circle, and tapped me on the shoulder I turned around and he looked at me and he knew I was hiding something.

An hour later I was buzzed onstage at the open mic with a guy who looked friggin exactly like Ray's brother on Everybody Loves Raymond.

And I could have sworn it was the same guy hosting the show the other night. It wasn't. How many comedians, I wonder, make jokes about people who mistake them for Ray's brother. Maybe one per major city? Maybe Brad Garret gets royalties?

Anyways, it was fun.

My brother had me take his Flying V in to my guitar lesson on Friday so that my instructor could check it out. He said, in his professional opinion, that it was "friggin sweet" and that I should show him the back of my hand for his utter refusal to practice such an instrument.

He also introduced me to a blues band from the 90s called The Red Devils, who in their time were considered a promising force. The band recorded material with Mick Jagger which is now consigned to bootlegs. They were on the verge of making it big before the lead singer was shot by his girlfriend. They tried to revive him. With cocaine. It didn't work, so they tried it again. Four more times. Official cause of death? Cocaine overdose. The dosers got two years. The shooter got none.

Anyways, they are fucking awesome. I'm learning some of their riffs now, which are fun as hell to play, including one originally played on harmonica, which Brian was able to transcribe to guitar, which may in fact be a new technique.

Anyways, here's some Youtube of the band. I've yet to find a live clip of the particular song I'm looking for though



fuck yes

Also, it has become apparent to me by way of my asshole downstairs neighbor and his (admittedly sweet) loud stereo that EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY SONG EVER WRITTEN HAS THE SAME FUCKING BASSLINE. Dudes who play bass for country bands: come up with new riffs or I swear I will saw your fingers off. Did you really think that the White Stripes never had a bassist? They couldn't find a replacement with the last name White is all. I couldn't tell if it was their sibling or their offspring but it doesn't matter anymore.

Oh and also

SOX FTW!

Kevin Smith was right, Alanis is god

When an insanely popular hit song can be savagely burned simply by singing it sincerely, it's telling what sort of state music is in.

On the other hand, there's Alanis.

If you don't love Alanis, you're wrong.

Plain and simple.

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For the "No Shit" file


Conservative radio assholes around here have been mocking the Kyoto protocoll and in fact any effort to curb emissions due to a supposed lack of conclusive proof, which is I suppose what is required to fight pollution but not what is required to fight a war. I wonder if even a declaration of 90% certainty is going to move them. Should it come up I'll be sure to call in.


Also, apparently the largest donor to the attack campaign that Bush had no ties to (nudge nudge wink wink) has been rewarded with an ambassador post during the recess and may even draw a salary for it despite the fact that federal law that prevents recess appointees from being paid.

On this day, a Friday, when 2000+ years ago a man was nailed to a tree for saying it would be great if we weren't dicks to each other, who never in fact said that he was God despite what others said. Given what happened on this day back then and the fact that since then the latter teaching has caught on far better than the former, and in fact a number of people have lost their heads and reputations for not embracing the latter at the hands of people who clearly weren't embracing the former, being myself no longer an embracer of the former but in fact a firm believer in the latter, and given the nature of the rest of this post, I declare this also to be yet another Fuck You Friday.

This is not, I say merely to disclaim, meant as a sleight on those who believe in and practice both of the aforementioned teachings, however silly I personally find the latter (After all, like I said, Alanis is god). But to require the latter in defiance of the former is to lose my respect, by any meaning of the word.

Addendum(s)

You probably noticed that there was no Boston Legal on Sunday. Consultation of my source that claimed there would be saw that information redacted. ABC, if they are to be believed, say that it will return tomorrow. They had better not be messing with me.

As for the rumor about me, it turns out that the female in question has since gained the reputation of a pathological liar and has been telling anyone who'll listen that she had sex with me. The person from whom my friend who informed me of it all found out about the rumor did not believe her, and didn't feel the need to call me and ask me if it was true. And yet one of my closest friends did. You lot wouldn't believe ugly lies about me, would you?

Wait, maybe I don't want an answer to that question.

Also, in other news, at the urging of a dear friend of mine, I consented to a bit of a change of look. Here, let me show you.



This brought to you live in three-o-clock-in-the-morning-vision. Please do not be alarmed.

No more than an hour after she cut my hair, some girl on the subway thought I was Eddie Vedder. I thought it was a joke at first but her friend had to convince her that I wasn't. Given the nature of the group I would suspect they came from a bar, so this raises three questions

How many drinks does it take for me to look like Eddie Vedder?

Can this phenomenon be replicated?

Should I learn some Pearl Jam songs?

Of course the third relies on the first two. I think that I may have to look into this, in the spirit of scientific inquiry.

Once again, for the first time ever

I would say that my sore throat is gone, but the fact of the matter is I still look at it in the mirror and it looks like Picasso and Esther teamed up to fuck things up back there. And this isn't me hating on either of them. If someone intended to do that it'd be an achievement. And then I'd beat the ever-loving shit out of them with a smile on my face. Ok so that does sound like hate. Seriously though. Only Guernica. Everything else is cool.

That reminds me of a joke involving an experienced golfer and someone who'd never played before.

"Are you sure you want to play with me?"

"Not only that, but I'll beat you"

"Heh. Good one."

"No, I'm not joking around. I'll beat you and hell, all I'll use is the 9 iron"

That's right, this is one of my all over the place posts, otherwise known as, "my posts." Traditionally, I'll rave about some things that I'm digging at the moment. Here I'll list them with notes to save time

Scrubs on dvd: It's no Boston Legal but hot damn is it rare that a sitcom is any good. And this one may have a format it sort of sticks to but it makes up for it with excellent pacing, writing, and execution.

Guitar Hero: It is not likely that I'm going to own any console this game appears on in the near future but this one is a blast. Yes, I realize that I own and play an actual guitar. Shut up, I'm having fun =P

Metalocalypse: I watched all of the episodes on Youtube recently and the main line of this is that it's grotesquely awesome. It's about a death metal band that has somehow found its way to unfathomable popularity; easily one hundred times as popular as the Beatles ever were (no calculations on how much more popular they are than Jesus) If you at least sorta dig death metal like I do or if you think it's ridiculous (actually yeah sometimes I fall into that category, too) this show is a blast. And as the episodes clock in at about ten minutes each it doesn't overstay its welcome or overtax your time (c'mon, try it. All the cool kids are doing it)

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip: Honestly I'd rather see the show that they're producing than the show that actually gets aired, but that's only because I've been hurting for good sketch comedy since I realized that SNL wasn't funny anymore. (my nativitee had been kept afloat by reruns of the Chris Farley era) That isn't to suggest that Studio 60 isn't excellent. Sorkin does some good TV, and Matthew Perry finally learns what it's like to have good writers behind him and what do you know, he had talent after all. Jennifer Aniston, on the other hand, has yet to kick the habit of involving herself with uninspired shit, but that's another story. In any case, as someone who is every bit as hostile to bad comedy writing as the main character in the show, I'm naturally going to like this one, but check out this clip from the first episode. That's the last Youtube link I swear and what do you know I am sorta raving now aren't I.

Shit.

Torchwood: Yes, I'm a scifi geek. Yes, I'm a Doctor Who fan. Yes, I like dark themes in my entertainment, and yes, I think the decision to make everyone sexually ambiguous was gold.


Boston Legal is doing a Sunday episode again, no doubt a peace offering to those of us who have turned our ire upon ABC for the hiatus (Barbra FUCKING Walters).

Oh yeah, and Google? I respect how you managed to be a staple of this decade's culture despite having a logo that was clearly designed by someone's 5 year old on Bring Your Kid To Work Day, but why the fuck do you have to make commenting so messed up for "the new Blogger?" Even though I'm always signed in to my Google account because of my Gmail notifier, it makes me do so again after posting a comment to someone else's blog, then redirecting me to my dashboard, and in the process losing my comment, which I never end up writing the same way twice. I think you should amend your mission statement: "Don't be Evil, and also don't be a douche.

What else, what else... Oh yeah, apparently a couple from within my social circle broke up and after some "confession" there are people, though who has heard the lie I know not yet, who think that I slept with someone who's unappealing both inside and out. But I don't know who believes this, only that there are people who do. Odds are low at this point that I need to get new friends. But God Damn is this annoying. Selah. Looks like I've got some sorting out to do. *puts on hip-waders* Catch you all later.