It’s Easier to Be an Asshole to Words Than to People

Internet Argumentxkcd is one of my favorite web comics.  Randall is brilliant, and in a strange and bizarre way I’m sometimes pleased that I simply don’t understand the math humor.  Sometimes the comic is romantically touching, sometimes it’s hysterically funny and sometimes it’s delightfully snarky.  This strip, however, simply points us to Truth.  It is easier to be an asshole online than in person.  Maybe there’s something we should do about that, eh?





An Open Letter to Auto Makers

Dear Automobile Manufacturers, Both Foreign and Domestic:

I note from watching your many television commercials that some of you are quite concerned with ensuring the passengers of your vehicles ride in the total silence of space. You are to be commended. I have a suggestion for you, however.

In addition to ensuring that passengers are wrapped in a muffled cocoon, perhaps you would be so kind as to design your cars so that the stereo systems of said cars can only be heard from inside that lovely bubble of silence. I’m sure that the young men driving past my house at 2:00am would revel in the ability to blow their eardrums out of their heads, while I would praise your names to all and sundry if said young men would not wake me from a sound sleep with the noise they fondly call music.

I will be watching with great anticipation for the television commercials announcing this new feature in your automobiles.


Someone Who Freaks Out Badly When Rap Music Is Played at 150 Decibels at 2:00am Outside the Bedroom Window

Heard on NPR

As I was about to shut the car off and climb out last night, the announcer said that there was a group of activists who were planning to re-create the 1968 Democratic National Convention at this year’s convention.

Are they kidding?

Do you people remember the 1968 Democratic National Convention?  It was in Chicago.  There were riots.

Hello, Denver?  I love ya, and I miss ya… and you might want to ask these nice activist people to re-think their plan.

In 1968, I was a kid.  At the time of the Democratic National Convention, the whole family was on vacation driving around the country in our 1965 Chevy Bel Aire station wagon.  (It was white.  Gosh, the things one can remember.)  We watched the brouhaha on television from our motel room.  I think we might have been in Wyoming at the time.  It seems awfully scary watching it on tv.

I’m just saying it might be a good idea not to have history repeat itself.  And I’m kind of hoping I just made that all about about the activists.

Super Tuesday

So, tomorrow is voting day here in New York. And as I mentioned to one of my friends this evening, I have never — in my entire life of nearly 50 years — been so apathetic about voting. And that distresses me.

Just before sitting down to write this, I was visiting uuMomma‘s site. She excited and hopeful, and wishes she could be voting tomorrow too. Truth be told, I’m a bit jealous of the enthusiasm.

I’m pretty sure I’ve taken every quiz out here on the internet about who my candidate is. It’s all very consistent… either Dennis Kucinich or Mike Gravel. But look at the way the pollsters have decided the election for us… we have a choice between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t completely hate either one of them. Hillary is smart… maybe too smart for her own good. Barack is… well, hope-full. But neither one really grabs me, you know?

Not that Kucinich or Gravel do, either, but at least they match up better with the issues that are important to ME. And neither of them stands a snowball’s chance in hell. Sigh.

Oh… what about the Republicans, you say? Well, let’s just say I’m an Irish person from Chicago and leave it at that, shall we? Hey! How about Jane Byrne for president!

And now that I’ve had my little talking to here, I’ll go vote my conscience tomorrow. And I’ll be thinking about uuMomma when I go.


Peeps… those little marshmallow bunnies and chicks, so popular at this time of year. Every year, they seem to come out with an ever more frightening color. This year’s new colors are blood red (who thinks of these things???) and almost-neon green. It’s possible that the blood red is only available at Target and is really supposed to be “Target Red.” Ok. I still won’t eat them.

I mention Peeps today because my friend Mark died this morning, and that means I just want to drown my sorrow in sugar. For me, it doesn’t even need to be the fermented sugar of alcohol. No, any kind of sugar will do.

My brain is saying, “Mark’s not in pain any more, and you know he didn’t want to be living like this” while my heart keeps weeping and saying, “Yeah, but my friend just fucking died.” I could attribute the different conversations to the “voices” in my head, but I’m just not up to caring about making sure people think I’m a bit weird.

In an attempt at retail therapy, I wandered Colonie Center for a while. On last night’s group call, I created the possibility of having the external me reflect the internal me. So I wanted to scope out current “fashion” and see if any of it could possibly fit my personal “style.” In a word… no. But some of the colors that are popular now are completely excellent. I love color, so seeing a display of lots of bright colors made me happy. The actual clothing itself, though? Let’s just say there wasn’t a whole lot that I, personally, would wear any day but Halloween. Of the things I might wear, I believe most of it was meant to be worn by a size 6 or less person. (We’re getting down to very little now seeing as I’m a size 14.) The few outfits I found that didn’t look ridiculous and didn’t expose every adipose cell and wrinkle (we’re not even going to discuss my unnaturally pale flesh) turned out to look really awful on me. Oh, except for the $109 pair of pants at Macy’s (and the matching $199 jacket).

That sent my mind reeling. One hundred and nine dollars for a pair of PANTS??!? It’s not like they were lined with gold or anything. They weren’t silk or linen or anything else that I might find slightly more reasonable for that price. Nope… just plain old cotton/poly/spandex blend. I’m still having a hard time getting my mind around it. I’m as likely to vote Republican or go hunting as I am to spend that much money on a pair of PANTS. And just to make it perfectly clear, I’m not likely to vote Republican or go hunting in this lifetime. Who’s to say what the next one will bring, though.

So, I’m still sad, I’m still crying and retail therapy failed. There’s nothing to be done now but eat some little yellow bunnies, perhaps washing them down with a bit of Amaretto.

Oh yes… and I want to put it out there that I want to get old. Really old. Really old and really eccentric. Mark didn’t want to get old, and God / Goddess / Great Spirit / The Universe granted that wish.

This whole circle of life thing really sucks sometimes.

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