There will be a seven-hour crazy clubbing monster ball at the Congress--which is a BEAUTIFUL theatre--with something like fifteen fabulous djs including Crystal Method over the fourth of July weekend. A 200,000 watt sound system. Two rooms. It will be within walking distance (practically) of my old apartment...

...in Chicago.

And I will be in Oregon.

Camping.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen....

And Deep Dish will be playing at Transit three days after I leave from visiting in June.

Jesus hates me.

Sometimes living in the Northwest sucks. Luckily Eugene is way sunnier than Seattle. By "way sunnier" I mean we get five days of sun, rather than two.

My sister got herself a cat. I'm impressed. She managed to get a cat less than two weeks after graduating college and moving to Wisconsin. I thought it would take her at least six weeks, especially since she was making noise about "waiting" to "be responsible".

HA!

I knew she was in denial when I found out that she'd already purchased a litter box. Before the cat. Before even FINDING a cat that she liked. Just in case.

Her fiance, Paul (whom I really like except for his irrational and strange dislike of cats), is chagrined. It's funny. The ENTIRE family has been telling him for at least a year, "You know if you marry my sister you're going to have to live with cats, right?", but I don't think he ever really, fully believed us. But then, he doesn't understand the deeply ingrained love of cats with which my mother has indoctrinated all of her children. We ALWAYS had a cat, it was ALWAYS completely spoiled and extremely friendly, and when I live in a house without a cat it feels a bit like living in a house without furniture. This, of course, is compounded by the fact that my sistersand I are big soppy messes around animals in general. I am a complete sucker for pets. My roommate's dog figured this out in about thirty seconds flat, and you will notice that when she wants someone to throw the stick, give her people food, or cuddle, she always bugs ME, because she knows I'm a creampuff. And with her its REALLY unfair because she's a hound mix so she has the huge liquid brown eyes of her type and she looks at you with the saddest, most pitiful expression...which gets me to throw the stick every. damn. time.

In any case, I have high hopes that Paul will turn out like my father, who started married life as a cat-hater and ended up an incorrigible Spoiler of Cats. No less than two animals learned that if they jumped up on the kitchen stool and yowled at him, they'd be rewarded with a treat every time. Our cat Blue would race down the stairs every evening on my father's return from work, jump on the stool, and scream his bloody head off until my father had given him multiple treats and a tummy rub. My mother's attempts to keep the cat slim were completely foiled by Dad, whom the cat viewed as a walking treat dispenser. My cat Simon lived with them for less than a month and by the time I "rescued" him, he'd already picked up the same habit and gained two pounds.

Don't fuck with the shieldmaidens.

Tonight I dragged my cello out of mothballs and played a little bit.

Boy, do I suck on ice.

It all started when Greg started screwing around with a guitar. He didn't know how to tune it; I can tune a guitar in about thirty seconds flat, so I offered to teach him. The guitar was so out-of-tune that I thought I was doing it wrong, so I broke out *my* guitar to double-check. That's when I noticed that my guitar has developed some sort of weird buzz. The idea that BOTH of my instruments were out of commission was so incredibly depressing that I immediately went to go look at my cello and see if it was as bad as I remembered. Maybe, just maybe, I could get a couple of things fixed and just repair it slowly, rather than all in one fell swoop.

I haven't been playing my cello because it needs new strings, a new bridge, soundpost adjustment, the bow needs to be rehaired, and it probably needs a few seams reglued. (This is basically the equivalent of new shocks, new brakes, new tires, an oil change, and finding out what that ominous grinding noise is on your car--all at once.) Playing a string instrument can only be called an "inexpensive" hobby if you're comparing it against competitive yacht racing or collecting small Mediterranean islands, so I have been trying to figure out a way to save up the $300-400 it's gonna take and get this all done in the next six months. That, and I have been gradually playing less and less since I blew my wrist out when I was sixteen, so playing is often painful and depressing.

Perhaps I'm finally removed enough from the situation to have a sense of humor about it, because I think I'm going to start playing again, despite the fact that my cello is in fairly crappy condition. I started to play the Vivaldi double cello concerto--a piece that, at one time, I could play well enough to kick ass and take names.

Not anymore. I figure that if I spent about an hour each day and tackled just two measures apiece I could probably get it back up to fightin' speed sometime in 2056. In the past, I would practice for about an hour or so, realize that I was so far removed from what I used to be able to do that it wasn't even funny, and put the cello away before I broke it. This time, the level to which I'd sunk was just sort of amusing. So I swallowed my pride and dug out the Seitz concerto, a piece that I pretty much mastered when I was in eighth grade.

If I practice regularly, I just may be able to play it without making the neighborhood dogs howl in a month or so. Until then, the neighbors are going to have to suffer with the whale-mating groans and rumbles of someone playing a cello very badly and very enthusiastically.

My cello is still a wreck, but it's not an unplayable wreck, I've decided. Oh, sure, the strings are so old that it's a bit like playing through steel wool, and the bridge is so warped it's a travesty, and the bowhair is so used it's almost completely smooth, but it's playable. Sorta.

It's definitely time for me to start playing again, as in the last few days I've been wandering around the neighborhood on my walks trying to whistle some of the Bach suites, which is just unholy. The Bach Suites for Unaccompanied Cello were NOT designed to be whistled, and the sorry abortions that I was hesitantly piping were probably enough to make the composer shriek with rage from whatever sphere of reality he's currently residing in.

It'll be awhile before I can play more than "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" without completely embarrassing myself, but I need a musical outlet, and until I can get a computer, a mic, and a copy of Soundforge and ProTools this will have to be it.

We all know that Monsanto is evil. But you should still read this website, and ALWAYS remember the following: A Monsanto official told the New York Times, October 25, 1998, that the corporation should not have to take responsibility for the safety of its food products. "Monsanto should not have to vouchsafe the safety of biotech food," said Phil Angell, Monsanto's director of corporate communications. "Our interest is in selling as much of it as possible. Assuring its safety is the FDA's job." (taken from the aforementioned website)

Oh yeah. And Roundup, which is a Monsanto herbicide used liberally in conventional agriculture as well as being sold over-the-counter in most every lawn and garden center in the United States (chances are pretty fucking good that you or your neighbor has some in the garage) is a hormone disruptor.

The internet is so cool. I am babysitting for a friend and for some reason I ended up looking up information on kiwifruit, and doing it while reading webcomix. Next I am going to look up information on being an Oregon Tilth certified business, and I get to do this all while eating a toasted bagel and listening to Ani Difranco. Vive la Internet.

We've all been over to ihumpthings.com because we're morbidly curious. But did you know that they're now offering thong underwear emblazoned with the website's url? Nothin' says "classy bitch" quite like a pair of panties with "www.ihumpthings.com" scrawled across the crotch.

"Pound Her Lovemuffin with your Huge Joystick"

I hate spam. But I do wish that if I am going to get 38 junkmail messages a day sent to my account, that they'd ALL have subject headings as humorous as the one above--which I just got sent to me by some misguided moron who doesn't know that I don't even HAVE a joystick, let alone the desire to buy something to make it a throbbing veiny lightsaber of lust or whatever the hell the penis-enlargment people are saying these days.

I got some of the reddest, ripest, sweetest, most perfect strawberries I've ever seen today at the farmer's market.

If you really, really look at a strawberry under strong light, their skin is semitransparent, and underneath it you can see some of the tissues, and it looks iridescent, or like looking at glitter through red pantyhose. Trippy.

Moveon.org did the following with Senator Byrd. It's remarkable. Here ya go:

GRASSROOTS INTERVIEW: U.S. SENATOR BYRD
The following are the personal responses of Senator Robert Byrd (D-WV) to the top-ranked questions MoveOn members posed last week:

First of all, before I begin, let me thank MoveOn and its thousands of members for the support that you have given to me and to so many others who are willing to stand up and make their opinions known. Your willingness to be active participants in this Republic makes a real difference, and I hope that you will continue to let your voices be heard.

Question One: What are the ways we can impact the choices being made today as powerfully as possible?
-- Michael McCann, West Lebanon, NH

Mr. McCann, you ask a very good question. Many of those who want to speak out are cowed by the intimidation and ridicule that often accompanies going against the perceived grain. That is as true in Congress as it is outside the Capitol Beltway. At times of national distress, it is natural to want to come together and to look for leadership from a single, clear voice. But America's song has never been expressed by a single note. It was never intended to be. America's music is not a solo, but rather a symphony made richer by the harmony of different views. Remember, our founders rejected a Monarchy, and sought, instead, a Republic. They chose a representative form of government that allowed the many voices of America to be heard.

Write your Members of Congress. Write your newspaper. Talk with your neighbors. Do not sit back and assume that everything will work out for the best. If we are going to make a difference, if we are going to break through the constant beat of rhetoric and bombast that fills the airwaves each day, we cannot be complacent. The freedom to dissent, to speak out, and to question is the birthright of every American

There is a power which can serve as a check against abuses by a government or by government officials and that power is the power of the informed citizen -- one who has read enough, who understands enough, who has developed a base of knowledge against which to judge truth or falsehood. Participation in the great debates of our time must not be relegated to the power elites in Washington. An informed citizenry has to participate, ask questions, and demand answers and accountability to make a country like ours work.

Without some base of knowledge upon which to make judgements about the critical issues that face us, the average citizen will be buffeted this way and that by spin doctors from the White House, statements by politicians seeking to please voters, and daily news coverage and talk shows which often have an editorial agenda.

I say, for the sake of our country, arm yourself with information. Especially with an Administration which has a demonstrated penchant for secrecy, our people must be vigilant. We must resist excessive invasion of personal privacy because of a well-intentioned zealousness by government to hunt down terrorists, and we must question the necessity of all measures which seem extreme.

Dictators and despots triumph when the people become complacent, drop their guards, and leave government to "the powers that be." Remember, sheep could never be peacefully led to slaughter if they could ask where they were headed and get an honest answer.

It is up to each citizen to do what he or she can to provide that all-important check on power, the wisdom of the people.

Question Two: How can we stop the right wing revolution of George W. Bush?
-- Elizabeth C. Mark, Alexandria, VA

Ms. Mark, you are not alone in your frustrations. Many Americans are concerned about what they see as a bias in the media.

There are voices in the media that seek to present an alternative point of view. But too often, these men and women are sent packing because their corporate bosses fear a commercial backlash.

I do not question the media's right to report on stories and to have talk shows which express opinion. That right is clearly laid out in the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights. "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press." This Amendment, ratified in December, 1791, gives broad power to the press. Our Constitutional Framers understood that the Republic would not function properly if the press is not allowed to operate freely and without intervention from government. However, the media must also recognize the responsibility it has to the public that relies so heavily on the information learned in the daily reports.

The free press must be a fair press. Through the First Amendment, our Framers guaranteed a free press. We, the people, demand a fair press, one that meets its responsibilities and our expectations. A free press cannot exist without the trust of the public it serves. To win and maintain that trust, the press must be fair in its work.

As I recently said on the floor of the Senate, the American people unfortunately are used to political shading, spin, and the usual chicanery they hear from public officials. They patiently tolerate it up to a point. But there is a line. The calculated intimidation which we see so often of late by the "powers that be" will only keep the loyal opposition quiet for just so long. Because eventually, like it always does, the truth will emerge. There is no obstacle that cannot be overcome by the vigorous mind determined to follow the truth.

Question Three: How can we regain freedom of the press and airwaves, and restore free public speech and debate? Where are the liberal intellectuals and think tanks and how could they have been so easily marginalized?
-- Rev. Gerry Staatemeier, Tucson, AZ

First, let me thank you, Reverend Staatemeier, for your more than kind remarks. I am humbled by them. The Reverend Mr. Staatemeier asks a question very similar to that of Ms. Mark. The media. What to do about the media. This should not come as a great shock but, while I have a good understanding of the complexities of the Constitution and the issues facing the nation, I have very little understanding of the enigma of the modern media. I have often wondered how Daniel Webster or Henry Clay or James Madison would have come across on television. How would they do in 20-second sound bites? Yet their ideas helped to build the foundation for this country. Would their beliefs have been as strongly followed if all people heard were short bits and pieces?

These questions have all shared common themes. How can we speak out? How can we make our voices heard? How can we break through the barriers that seem to hold back balanced opinion? It is frustrating, I know. I have, for months, pushed, prodded, and pleaded with my colleagues to speak out, to let their voices be heard, and to not be intimidated by this Administration or others who would criticize.

The best advice I have is to read, listen, and participate. Share your opinions with your family and friends. Talk at your churches and community organizations. Not everyone will agree with you. When there are those who do not, stay civil. Rely on reason, logic, and facts. And remember, at the end of the day, we are all Americans. There is far more that unites us than divides us.

Question Four: What can citizens do?
-- Sid Kemp, San Antonio, TX

Mr. Kemp, you ask for specifics. I have already outlined many of the steps that I think are important: ready; study; write; talk with your neighbors; contact your lawmakers; ask real questions and do not settle for half-answers. Stay involved in politics. Support candidates who share your views. Vote. Get your neighbors to vote. Each of us has a part in making this government good by exercising the duty and privilege of the ballot box. We can show our gratitude for all that our nation means to us by the quality of our citizenship.

Question Five: Why is Congress giving up its Constitutional duty?
-- Eli Pariser, New York, NY

Mr. Pariser, your question is one that has vexed me for several months. The October 11 vote by the Senate to hand over to the President the authority to solely determine when, where, how, and why to declare war will go down in history as one of the lowest points in the Senate's existence. Twenty-three Senators voted against that resolution. Twenty-three Senators would not walk away from their Constitutional duties. Reversing that vote will not be easy, especially in this climate and with this President.

What also concerns me is this new doctrine of preemptive strikes. I continue to believe that this policy of preemptive strikes is a dangerous policy that carries unintended consequences. When America acts unilaterally to enforce its will on other nations, without an imminent, direct threat to our security and without regard for the rest of the world or even our traditional allies, we endanger the peace of the world. America is the world's remaining superpower. But that unique status does not give America the right to impose its will whenever and wherever it chooses. We have a responsibility to lead, not to bully.

As post-war reconstruction moves forward, more than just the Iraqi nation needs attention. The United States would be well advised to reconstruct many of the diplomatic relationships that have been seriously strained because of the doctrine of preemptive strikes. In the months and years ahead, we will need the world's support of our allies. We will need assistance in the effort to stop global terrorism; we will need the goodwill of the world to foster peaceful resolutions to dangerous situations. It is especially important that America show the world that we have the confidence and wisdom to step back from this policy of preemption and return to the steadier course of diplomatic resolution.

Question Six: Can Democrats offer an alternative vision for America?
-- Susan Faraone, Chicago, IL

Ms. Faraone, I certainly believe so. We have many brave men and women in Congress, in state government, and in local government who are working to improve the lives of their fellow citizens. And one does not have to be in government to make that difference.

This nation faces daunting challenges in the coming years. The baby boomer generation will begin to retire in the year 2008. Because of the demands of that generation, both the Social Security and Medicare trust funds are expected to be running in the red by 2016. In 2015, more than 60 million Americans expect to rely on Social Security as a backbone of their retirement and more than 45 million Americans will rely on Medicare for their health care. But what steps have we taken to prepare for this looming crisis? Not one. Not a single dime is devoted to shoring up Social Security. Not one penny is directed to pay back the IOUs that Congress has been putting in the trust fund kitty for so many years.

Education. We know that 75 percent of our nation's school buildings are inadequate to meet the needs of our children. In fact, the average cost of capital investment needed is $3,800 per student. But are we providing the dollars to build and renovate schools? No.

The American Society of Civil Engineers has graded the nation's infrastructure. How did we do? Abysmally. Roads: D-plus. Aviation: D-minus. Schools: D-minus. Transit: C-minus. Drinking water: D. Overall, in 10 different areas, the nation's infrastructure received an average grade of D-plus.

When touting his tax cut packages, the President is fond of saying that we ought to give the people their money back. I think we ought to give the people their money's worth. Instead of more massive tax cuts, we ought to look toward tomorrow and repair our outdated infrastructure. We ought to help provide for safe highways and bridges; airports and transit systems that work; clean air; safe drinking water; and schools that help children to learn. We ought to plan ahead to insure that Social Security and Medicare will be available in the long-term.

In his book, The Greatest Generation, Tom Brokaw discusses the greatness of the generation of Americans of the 1930s and the 1940s. He points out that it was this generation of Americans who "came of age in the Great Depression when economic despair hovered over the land like a plague." This was "the greatest generation any society has ever produced."

Like Mr. Brokaw, I too admire the generation of Americans who survived the hardships of the Great Depression and won World War II. They were truly outstanding Americans, a great generation. I am proud to say that they are my generation.

But ever since reading Mr. Brokaw's book, I can't help but think of the greatness of not only this generation of Americans, but the greatness of generation after generation of Americans. It seems that in every age of our history, Americans have risen to meet the challenges and the difficulties of their times and to move our country toward further greatness. We will not fall short now.


After answering these questions, I am reminded of a poem that I have recited since my youth. The words were penned by Josiah Gilbert Holland in the 19th Century, but the message carries forth into the 21st Century.

God give us men!
A time like this demands strong minds,
great hearts, true faith, and ready hands.
Men whom the lust of office does not kill;
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;
Men who possess opinions and a will;
Men who have honor; men who will not lie.


Men who can stand before a demagogue
And brave his treacherous flatteries without winking.


Tall men, sun-crowned;
Who live above the fog,
In public duty and in private thinking.
For while the rabble with its thumbworn creeds,
It's large professions and its little deeds,
mingles in selfish strife,
Lo! Freedom weeps!
Wrong rules the land and waiting justice sleeps.
God give us men!

Men who serve not for selfish booty;
But real men, courageous, who flinch not at duty.
Men of dependable character;
Men of sterling worth;
Then wrongs will be redressed, and right will rule the earth.
God Give us Men!

I went over here to webslum and checked 'em out cos I'll be needing a home for my domain when I finally buy it (and I'm not telling you what it is, 'cept that it's cool.) They were RIGHT about it being fast as hell--go there and hit your refresh button a bunch.

DA-AMN!

Fruit for the Discarded

(a memory)

If ever there was a time...looking back for years: Ah, he did that. And that. I've seen this before. I've tasted this, it's a lot like blood but more metallic. There's a lot more fear and loathing than you'd think, all beneath the surface and like an iceberg it's worse when you've hit it. Did you know that one time, the time you held me in your anger like a discarded toy doll, did you know that there was a diamond being created, out of that enormous pressure and heat? I'm certain that you did. I'm certain that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, because it was actually far, far worse, those years ago, and now I'm finding that my anger is somehow more loyal than forgiveness would be. It's odd. These echoes stay with me. These echoes create me on some days, I turn and see thousands of reflections, a broken mirror whose shards bring more completeness than the icy perfection of an unscathed sheet of glass.

On some days
when I am asleep
I hear you whisper to someone else
"mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa"

You don't know that I can hear you.

Fortitude (For"ti*tude) (?), n.
[L. fortitudo, fr. fortis strong. See Fort.]

1. Power to resist attack; strength; firmness. [Obs.] "The fortitude of the place is best known to you." Shak.
2. That strength or firmness of mind which enables a person to encounter danger with coolness and courage, or to bear pain or adversity without murmuring, depression, or despondency; passive courage; resolute endurance; firmness in confronting or bearing up against danger or enduring trouble. "Extolling patience as the truest fortitude." Milton. "Fortitude is the guard and support of the other virtues." Locke.

Synonyms -- Courage; resolution; resoluteness; endurance; bravery. See Courage, and Heroism.

I Don't Know Why I Even Bother Trying to Act Cool

...when I get excited about the new "Weird Al" album. It's called "Poodle Hat". I would be ashamed that I care, but I bet at least 50% of the people reading this post are either going, "He's got a new album out?!? COOL!", or they already know and have purchased a copy.

Happy Graduation, Emily!

(I thought this was an appropriate cartoon for someone graduating from one of the biggest agricultural colleges in the world)

Well, as I am super-woopty-busy, it looks like my blog entries for the last few days have been absent or anemic. Sorry 'bout that; I'm sure you're all waiting with bated breath for the latest installment, or at least scheduling your days around my posts.

Whatever.

Here's the short version of things:

1) President Chickenshorts is still in the Oval Office. I know that we keep thinking we're going to just wake up and some nice liberal person will be patting us on the shoulder and saying "There, there, sweetie, it was just a horrible, horrible nightmare, President Gore is doing a GREAT job", but that has yet to happen.

2) Sandalwood oil is still pretty much absent from the market. I got all excited today cos I heard otherwise, but it was all a bunch of shite. Sorry. If you're buying sandalwood oil (S. album, not the Austrailan stuff), you're either getting screwed because it's fake, or you're contributing to the decimation of a species. Stop it!

3) It's REALLY hard to make a 1:1 Glycyrrhiza glabra (licorice) fluid extract without getting precipitate. But I will DO it, dammit.

4) I wanna go back to school. I wanna take botany courses and more biochem and a helluvalotta physiology and maybe some pharmacognosy and I also need to learn how to do as many different chemical assays as is practical for someone working with raw herbs, essential oils, and extracts. But I really need to pay off my debt from my OTHER schooling, dammit. Does anybody have a rich, altruistic relative who wants to support my education habit?

5) I need more clinical time, too. I need to start advertising for clients. This is going to be scary and hard. But I gotta, or I risk wasting my education.

6) I miss my family desperately. How is it that the people I know with truly fucked up families live CLOSE to them, while I, with a wonderful, happy, dysfunctional-but-in-a-funny-way family has to live halfway across the country? Dammit.

7) If my roommate's houseguest lets my cat out one more time I am going to wrap my fingers around her absent-minded throat and squeeze until I hear a wet crunch. Last night I found him contemplating crossing the busiest street near my house. Standing on the curb and thinking, "Hey, what are those big noisy things? Can I play with them?" Luckily he's atypical and comes when he's called, so he responded to my frantic shriek of "SIMON!" by bounding towards me, meowing happily about what a neat adventure he was having. He was purring when I picked him up; but I have a very bad feeling that had I found him three or four minutes later it would have been to pick him out of a semi grille.

The Funniest Thing I've Heard In Weeks

"You're the best looking bisexual trial-sized Jesus ever!"

--from something positive

Heh. I will give any woman twenty bucks if she actually does this to a guy. Fifty if I get to see a videotape.

I have to post this. It's just...well, I'm on a bit of a Wesley Willis kick today (you've noticed, I'm sure) and this is probably my favorite song. Of course, the written word doesn't do it NEARLY justice to the beauty of hearing a 350 schizophrenic black man shouting the lyrics, but dammit, it's still funny as hell. Wesley is cool.

I WUPPED BATMAN'S ASS
Batman got on my nerves
He was running me amok
He ridiculed me calling me a bum
I wupped Batman's ass (repeat 6 times)

Batman thought he was bad
He was a fucking asshole in the first place
He got knocked to the floor

I wupped Batman's ass (repeat 5 times)

Batman beat the hell out of me and knocked me to the floor
I got back up and knocked him to the floor
He was being such a jackoff

I wupped Batman's ass (repeat 10 times)

Rock over London, rock on Chicago
Wheaties, breakfast of champions

For those of you slackers that read this here blog and don't what post to the forum, I'd say ya'll are missing out. Yes, if I was REALLY cool I'd go over to livejournal and have the cool little comments doohicky at the end of every post, but I don't have time to go figure that shit out right now, so I have a poky little forum. But I must say, damn fine posting. Props to my peeps. Givin' a shout out to the 630, know what I'm sayin'? Yeah, you know what I'm all about.

Rock on Chicago, Rock on London!

(Sorry. Wesley Willis flashback.)

Everybody should go read this when you have a chance. It's a very, very, important health issue, and it's something that affects all of us, especially if you eat conventional baked products (breads, crackers, cookies, etc.).

We're all freaked out about saturated fats, but this shit is much, much worse. I am completely fascinated by fatty acid biology and all the related issues like prostaglandins, etc., and so this kind of thing seriously freaks me out, because trans-fats have really crazy potential to fuck us up on many levels, and they're consumed by almost every American on a daily basis. Yikes.

Yet one more reason to read the fucking label, folks.

If you don't want to be seriously freaked out and just want to be a bit healthier, than the moral of the story is to COMPLETELY avoid anything containing the following ingredients: hydrogenated or partially hydrogenated oils, vegetable shortening, or Crisco-type products.

Honestly, you're better off eating lard or butter.

There are a lot more issues about the horrible quality of most edible oils on the mass market; but I don't want to go completely off on a rant. But basically, if the label doesn't say "expeller pressed" or "cold pressed", then you're dealing with an oil that is FAR from what it was originally, having in all likelihood been exposed to high heats, chemical solvents, and an entire range of unsavory practices in order to produce it cheaply an extend its shelf life. These practices do a lot to preserve profits, but have little or nothing to do with preserving the health of the consumer.

Down with corporate food, is all I have to say.

Someday, I am going to have the kind of money that lends itself to collecting artwork. And when I do, I am going to invest extremely heavily in the artwork of Brandon Bird. Be sure to check out..oh, god, just look at ALL of them.

Bea Arthur and dinosaurs?

Wow.

Wow. Today was a great links day. Be sure to check out this astronomy picture of the day.

Props to Chicago. We even get more meteors there.

This website is what the Internet is all about:

Geeks with far too much time on their hands.

(Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm one of them.)

Sez Sam, "This is why bears rock."

I agree.

I was driving to work this morning and heard a song by Wesley Willis. For those of you who don't know about Wesley Willis, he is an enormous schizophrenic black man who got his hands on a Casiotone at some point and started producing absolutely FABULOUS songs with names like "I Whupped Batman's Ass".

As he's a Chicago phenomenon, I've been listening to Wesley way before Jello Biafra decided he was cool, way back in the mid nineties. I saw him on tour once (in Albuquerque of all places) and when I went up to get an autograph for my friend Kristi (who is a HUGE fan) he grabbed my head in his HUGE hands, and screamed,

"SAY 'ROCK'"!

"...rock", I said, in the meekest little white-girl voice.

*BAMF*

He headbutted me.

"SAY 'ROLL'"

"ROLL!" I said, getting the hang of it.

*BAMF*

It was a truly bizzare experience. But do YOU know anyone else who can say they got headbutted by Wesley Willis?

My friend Sam IMed me this link with the tagline, "It could always be worse."

Indeed.

One of my more morbid friends was asking me about poisonous herbs the other day. Here's a nasty one.

It's 6:30 and I've been reviewing my finances and realizing that I am majorly fucked, and so the only logical choice left to me this evening is to get well and duly drunk. Glamourously so. I've got a bottle of red wine and more than enough beer, so it shouldn't be too much of a chore. Granted, I've got a lunch meeting tomorrow with a nice lady at an old folks' home for a class I'm teaching this week, so perhaps it isn't the wisest thing I've done this year, but dammit--it's 6:30. If I start now I should be able to be suitably numb by eight or so, start sobering up by ten, and if I'm lucky, I won't be too muzzyheaded tomorrow. I think I am going to finish off the wine and then stumble about the neighborhood a bit before it gets dark (walking around alone drunk is fun; walking around alone drunk at night is an entirely different beast) and then come home and watch reruns of "Friends". I've already got Dave Brubeck, The Strokes, and The White Stripes on rotation in the CD player, and I'm reading a lighthearted comedy about the Apocalypse because I've run out of the books lent to me (dammit), which seems a good start. If you're going to wallow in self-pity, then do it right. Dance around with a glass of good Syrah in the dark whilst listening to angsty pop music. If you don't have a copy of The Smith's "Louder than Bombs" for this express purpose by now, it's time you get one. Read Revelations or, if you're REALLY masochistic, "The Stranger" by Camus. Hell, you can always go for Kafka, but lock up sharp things first, and make sure you don't have any dangerous pharmaceuticals at hand.

I sure hope my sisters are going to like charming homemade gifts made of cunningly wrought cardboard and tinfoil, because at this rate that's all I'm going to be able to afford for their graduation gifts. Maybe little cardboard stars with "YOUR SISTER IS A CHEAP BITCH" picked out in toothpicks and colored plastic wrap.

I did find an absolutely beautiful garnet bracelet today that would have been just perfect for either of them, but then, I don't have $1500. (Stupid "expensive taste" gene.)

Nah, it shouldn't be that bad, so if either of you are reading this, don't fret--you'll get plenty of goodies from me, never fear. I have my ways....and I won't even need to sell a kidney, either. And I'm fairly certain there will be no prostitution or pimping involved. Maybe a little petty larceny.

I have a new favorite TV show. Greg and I discovered it quite by accident last night. We were being MAJOR couch bums, and we'd put on UPN as we really, really, really didn't have it in us to sit through the "Beverly Hills 90210 Ten Year Reunion Special", so instead we'd tuned in UPN and were sorta watching cheesy scifi, when this...this....this show came on.

It's called "She Spies", and it is pure bulldada camp bliss. I think what happened is that some horrible network lizard decided that UPN needed some sort of Charlie's Angels spinoff, and they farmed it out to a bunch of writers who said, "So you want us to write a hard-hitting spy series featuring leather-clad boob-laden women high-kicking a bunch of crafty villians, right? Well, fuck it." And instead of writing a really cheesy scifi sexplotation series, they decided that the best course of action would be to just have the show constantly make fun of itself. And it does. It's fucking hysterical. It's indescribable. Last night's episode took place on a passenger jet. Instead of showing actual film of the outside of a jet where it would be appropriate, they showed a SUPER cheesy model of a plane on Astroturf with little badly-painted toy people to represent boarding passengers. It...was....priceless. And for those of you with a penis, it's got Natasha Henstridge in it, whom I gather is quite the fox.

You absolutely must catch this show. Stay up late on Sunday nights--it's worth it.

Lucky for me that I had a good dose of humor last night, because I absolutely needed it for today.

The Go Big Red Truck has been making an ominous fan-belt type squealing lately, so when I took it in to have its oil changed, I asked them to check it out. I wasn't too worried--it's a fan belt, right? That's like a fifty dollar piece, max. No problem. So I drop the GBR Truck off and go explore downtown Eugene, which I've been meaning to do for a while. Found a graduation present for one of my sisters, had lunch at a nifty little cafe, got a White Stripes CD (my big "I got paid" splurge). Then I stopped into a place that had good used audio equipment and found a pair of Infinity RS300 speakers for only $120. These look like the baby sisters of my father's infamous Stonehenge Speakers (also Infinitys) which are probably almost 25 years old and still sound fucking awesome. I really, really need a pair of good speakers, as I have a beautiful Denon stereo that is currently without a voice. I'm thinking, well, $120....I can put $60 away this month, $60 next month, if I don't go out at all for the next four weeks...yeah, I can do that. Faboo. Fuckin' A--they're good speakers.

So much for dreams. Turns out that the engine design in the Go Big Red Truck involves a self-tightening fan belt tension rod, which is actually what's fucked up. And so my bill for repair, unless I want to let the whole thing go, is going to be $180. Piss. Shit and vinegar pies. There goes my grocery money, and I can kiss those speakers goodbye. And now I'm even regretting the purchase of a $15 CD, which is just nucking futs. Not to mention that I'm not going to be able to do as much as buy a cup of coffee for two weeks. $180 is A LOT of money for me these days; luckily, my bills are pretty much caught up, and I'll be okay.

But still. They were farking infinitys.

Dammit.

Tomorrow is my day off.

I am going to get my oil changed--or rather, my car's oil. Then I am going to go hiking. And finally, I am going to find some chic little cafe and sit for hours with a good book drinking espresso con panna and nibbling on a salad. I am going to be doing this alone, and with luck, almost silently. While I would never be able to take a vow of silence, sometimes a day of solitude and quiet is great.

Were I in Chicago, I'd go to the Art Institute. But I'm in Eugene, and so it's to the woods. I'm not complaining...but I would have loved to go look at the Asian art galleries, then swung upstairs to see all the Arms and Armor, and then finished in the photo gallery. After that I probably would have taken the Red Line home to the Argyle stop and had lunch at the Vietnamese joint where the cute little owner was always smiling and offering tea, or maybe Thai Pastry, where you can get all these nifty coconut-milk pastries for next to nothing. If I were feeling extremely saucy, though, I'd have to go to Russian Tea Time right around the corner from Orchestra Hall, where the borscht is simply divine.

Or I could have bussed it over to Lincoln Park and sat in one of the cafes on Clark Ave and enjoyed the fashion show as all the trendy twenty-and-thirtysomethings came home wearing their Kenneth Cole and Kate Spade togs, wishing I had the budget to go shopping like that.

And the next person to tell me "Oh, if you miss the big city, you can just go to Portland!" is going to get poked in the eye with a fork.

another girl at play rocks.

We should all be so juicy and adventurous.

I heard this question on the radio, and I thought it was pretty good. If you could throw a party at any celebrity's house, whose house would it be? If you could have any band at this party, who would it be? And if you could bring one celebrity guest, who would it be?

I'd say Hugh Hefner's house, the Red Hot Chili Peppers (you know those boys can rock the house!) and my guest would probably be Ozzy Osborne, 'cos most of the chick singers I listen to would probably be seriously sketched out by Hef.

But let's open this up--how about any of the above, but at any point in history?

Then I have to say, it'd be Led Zeppelin playing at Versailles (or maybe the Emperor of China's Summer Palace), and I'd bring Jesus

Got this off a mailing list I belong to. It's pretty damn silly:

Shakespeare's Hokey-Pokey

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.

-- by William Shakespeare
(Jeff Brechlin, Potomac Falls)

As I sit here, so badly in need of a shower that visible Stench Waves are eminating from my armpits, I'm reminded of something:

My 'blog is getting boring.

Dammit. I'll work on that, I promise.

My friend Jason rocks, and so does his website

QUEEN OF WANDS FINALLY HAS A NEW COMIC!

Music I'm Playing Constantly This Week:

The Strokes, "Is This It?"
Erin McKeown, "Distillation"

Music I Wanna Have (somebody send me a copy, 'k?)

The White Stripes' first album
that British hiphop group The Streets (d00d, they kick ASS!)

I just got an email from an old friend that basically said, "Stop sending me war protests because my brother is stationed overseas and I support my troops and the war."

Well. To quote the immortal Dennis Miller himself, I don't want to get on a rant here, but...

For starters, I have two uncles in the armed services currently involved in this debacle, okay? So I COMPLETELY support our troops. Period. I don't need the flag-waving, yellow-ribbon-tying contingency to drag that sorry card out, k? STOP EQUATING WAR PROTESTS WITH PROTESTING THE MEN AND WOMEN OUT THERE. What I DO NOT support is the dubious policies of an administration that has demonstrably obtained office via lies, misinformation, and downright shady behaviour. (Jeb said he'd deliver, and boy did he ever....)

I mean, discounting all the crazy Enron, Halliburton, and defense connections that the Bush family and most of his cabinet have, he's still a below-average student with a substance abuse problem who is ON RECORD as saying he'd rather be baseball commissioner than president. Forgive me, but I don't feel a helluva lotta confidence in being led into combat by a man who strongly resembles Alfred P. Neumann. ("What, me worry about the economy?")

And while of course the "No War for Oil" protest is just silly and oversimplifies the issue, the fact that we have yet to find any of these "Mass Weapons of Destruction" that we've heard so much about--this makes me just a tad suspicious, you know? Yes, I understand that a lot of people think we need to make some sort of example after 9/11. But why Iraq? Why not finish what we started in Afghanistan? Why not go up against some of the monsters in Africa who are butchering their own people at a MUCH more alarming rate than Saddam Hussein?

Yes; Saddam Hussein is, indeed Goddamn Insane. I'm not arguing that, folks, but hey, that's never stopped us before. We seem to be remarkably schizophrenic when it comes to deciding whether or not the human rights record of a leader is a reason to oust them from power. Can we say Chile? Who helped depose a democratically elected president (Allende) and put in place Pinochet, a horribly repressive military dictator? Um. We did.

Huh. So much for democracy.

And what about South Korea?

Hell, that's beside the point. If the Islamic world already hates us, then why the hell are we making damn sure they're REALLY gonna hate us? Wouldn't that...wouldn't that....wouldn't that maybe incite more terrorism and violence?

Fuck. Didja think about that, President Chickenshorts? Let's hit the hornets' nest a few more times, and this time, LET'S GIVE THEM GLOBAL SUPPORT. America is becoming globally hated for this exercise in military domination.

9/11 was a chance for us to say to the global community: Look what hatred has wrought. With the outpouring of sympathy that came from around the world, we could have said: Let's start working on lasting peace. Let's re-examine the policies that inflame our neighbors. Let's work at creating economies that are mutually supporting rather than predatory. Let's talk about an exchange of culture and ideas in schools and universities so that we don't see the sort of small-minded attitudes that breed hatred (so common in the Middle East and the United States alike).

Of course there would have been countries and individuals that would have fought this. But we would have had most industrialized nations--the European Union, most of Asia, the Americas--on our side. And eventually, perhaps we could have made the U.S. seem less like a threat to the Islamic way and more like an economic partner. And after a generation or two--long enough for the children mutilated by our military presence to grow up and for their children to outgrow the hatred borne by starvation and sanctions--perhaps we could have seen the fruit of our labors.

But it was so much easier to start dropping bombs.

*end rant*

This was my favorite poem as a kid. I used to be able to recite the entire thing from memory--I can still regurgitate large chunks of it, to this day.

I feel like shit today...warm and squishy.

No, seriously, I am suffering from a Sneak Attack Headcold that knocked me out without any warning whatsoever. I went to bed fine, i woke up with ball bearings and cotton wool in my sinuses. My lips are dry, my head feels overinflated, and I have the mental acuity of a boxer with head injuries.

I'm watching my roommate's dog, though, so I was hanging out in the back yard (I have a back yard! I HAVE A BACK YARD! I haven't had a back yard since I was seventeen! Except for the one in Albuquerque, but that wasn't so much a "back yard" as a "cracked cement slab") In any case, we have two crabapple trees. Under one of the crabapple trees is a rosebush. There are blooms all over it. I can hardly wait to see what color they'll be. So far, I've resisted pulling off one of the buds and opening it to find out.

Today I looked and realized that the rosebush was covered in aphids. Shit. Aphids are harsh on roses. I thought, what the hell am I going to do? I don't want to spray all sorts of crap on it; the dog and cat hang out here all the time, and eat the grass. So I went inside and made a solution of dish detergent and water. This way, I thought, I can at least knock their population down a bit. Maybe the roses will be able to withstand a few aphids.

I had just covered the most heavily infested twig with suds when I looked over and saw--

A LADYBUG!

Yay! Those of you (and Carolyn is nodding and going, "Yup") who know anything about bugs know that ladybugs are predatory insects that feed on aphids. So Mom Nature was already on the case. I think I might go to our organic gardening store (Down to Earth) and get a few more ladybugs, but it's always nice to be reminded that us humans don't have to worry so goddamn much abot things.

Ingredients for a Successful Party

1) Snacks, including a variety of vegetarian and non-vegetarian items for all your friends. Don't forget about vegan foods!
2) Alcoholic beverages. A good choice would be a light sangria, or perhaps a homemade sparkling wine cooler
3) Non-alcoholic beverages, including an assortment of soft drinks and fresh fruit juices
4) Music. You want something fun and pleasant, yet not overpowering. Good choices include Astor Piazzola's brilliant tangos, or for the more "kitschy", early eighties synth pop
5) Decorations! How about some lovely Chinese paper lanterns around the patio?
6) Party games. Don't forget to have a copy of "Cranium" around. "Pictionary" is so passe.

Screw That, I Want To Throw A REAL Party

1) A keg. Get two, just to be safe.
2) A plastic garbage can filled with Purple Jesus (Grape Kool-Aid, ice, and Everclear). Get a new trash can or at least rinse out the grass clippings.
3) Potato chips and cocktail weiners. Make sure to keep the toothpicks far away from your friend Stinky. You remember what happened last time, right?
4) Music. If you don't have a good stereo, then have a friend with a good car stereo drive his car onto the lawn and open up the trunk. Put in something that will make your neighbor's ears bleed.
5) Decorations. Pink flamingoes are always nice, but try and get your female friends drunk enough so that they will festoon your lamps with bras and/or panties (Oh screw it. Male friends, too. You always did have a morbid curiosity about the kind of underwear Stinky wore). If you can get it, yellow "CAUTION!" tape is good, too.
6) Party games. Have at least one deck of cards so you can play "Asshole". Make sure to have enough tequila so that all participants can do shots at every hand. If you have a big back yard, you can always set up a Twister game. Pour a little canola oil on the playing surface for extra excitement.
7) Firearms.