Random Thoughts, Take Two

This is my fiftieth entry since I started blogging (I know, it's just a silly word...I almost hate to type it) back in October. Should I pop the cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon, or what?

Do not let the Gub'ment sell off national forest land to finance the Rural Schools Act! I am serious. Write your senators. Write your representatives. Let them know that this is a REALLY bad idea (in a long line of bad ideas that have come out of this administration). Once we start selling off forest land, we can't get it back. Beyond the environmental reasons for opposing this idea, the distribution of money is not in any relation to the amount of land sold from state to state. The Midwest loses 50,000 acres to finance an act under which they receive $41 million. Oregon and Washington sell 18,000 acres to finance the same act, under which they receive $210 million. That ain't right. Here's a plan: stop spending more than half of the federal budget on defense, and don't sell ANY forest land. How's that sound? Education president my ass.

I just scared the shit out of myself. I was staring off into space, pressing the SHIFT key for no apparent reason, when I heard a weird noise. Like a robotic cockroach calling to its mates. I look around the room to find no robotic cockroaches (thank goodness), but I was still a bit freaked out by the strange sound. Then I look at the computer screen. I had activated the StickyKeys function, by pressing SHIFT five times. It's weird, though, because the sound that accompanies the pop up window sounds like it is coming from somewhere behind me. Perhaps my computer has mad ventriloquism skills.

That's a wicked cool word: ventriloquism.

Sodoku is dumb.

Cryptoquotes are excellent.

Monkey can kick my ass at Scrabble, but I'm faster than she is.

I hate awards shows, but the seven minutes I watched of the Independent Spirit Awards on IFC were interesting. Felicity Huffman won Best Actress for TransAmerica, and her speech rocked. Then I got bored and turned off the TV.

Cold coffee is kind of gross.

Hot tuna is also kind of gross.

Even cheese can save neither cold coffee nor hot tuna.

I just remembered today how much I used to love The Pretenders. I was listening to Pretenders II and I got to thinking, "Man, I played this cassette a ton back in the day." Then I thought, "How come you never got Learning to Crawl on CD? You wore the grooves off the LP." Then the drier went off, and I got distracted.

I really need to buy a new pair of shoes for work.

A freshly swept floor, an empty hamper, an empty sink, and clean sheets on the bed: a recipe for love.

I am trying so hard not to hate James Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces. Some of the teachers and staff are reading it as part of an Early Release Day Lunchtime Book Club. (We just can't get enough of the reading and talking.) Maybe I'm just an insensitive asshole, but I keep thinking, "Shut up, already," while I am reading. It just strikes me as so much self-indulgent bullshit. And what's worse is that it is MADE UP self-indulgent bullshit. That's probably what fries my short hairs the most. Like, this dude's life wasn't shitty enough? He had to make it worse? What a freakin' loser. But, you know, other than that, great book. Good choice, Oprah. (That, ladies and gentlemen, was sarcasm.)

'Cause, you know, really, my world would be a better place if Oprah, Martha, the Donald, and Ryan Seacrest (and about a hundred other people whom I only know from their celebrity status) were given a Viking funeral. I'd even be happy with just sending them off to sea in a trireme. No pyre necessary. That's pretty reasonable, ain't it? Or, since it is the 21st century, maybe we could send them into orbit on a French satellite. "Mon dieu," the French might say, "not Monsieur Seacrest! L'American Idol? No. We are sorry, we can not help you." Damn, French.

Alright, that's enough for now. Happy Monday, everyone.