Um, did y'all hear about this!?? Lookit SC told me about it a little while ago.
So where the hell was I that I didn't even know another tsunami wiped out a bunch more people!??
<
So there's been this debate going on in the ether about rubber clogs and whether or not they belong outside of the garden. Well, I don't know about all that, but I'll tell you what: The Crocs flip-flops? Waaaaaay comfy. I bought the brown/light blue ones.
<
Do y'all remember when I was going on and on about Leon's Ribs a while back? I got an e-mail from Gwen, the woman who owned the one in Hammond about a week or so ago, and I must confess I didn't get around to reading it until today. And then when I read it, I wish I'd done it sooner, because then the workings of this nematode of the cloth could've been up much longer for the world to see.
Gwen sent this letter to several new outlets; I'm posting it in its entirety:
His sister and brother-in-law were literally being set out on the street as “Lou” Jones’ earthly remains laid before him. There rested a woman whose very core -- above all else -- bespoke a deep devotion, respect, and caring for her family. Yet, the Reverend Doctor Finney simultaneously participated in the process of inflicting excruciating pain on his flesh and blood sister, allowing her to be thrown into the streets, thereby causing her and her husband to join the ranks of the “homeless” community of the Chicago South Side.
I find it eerily striking that the funeral celebration and homage paid to this extraordinary woman, "Lou" Jones, took place on the same day -- at or about the same time the Reverend Dr. Finney, Jr., brought to fruition one of the most horrific days of his sister's life; and, while his sister was suffering the sting of betrayal and pain of her brother's contempt -- he was officiating at a celebration of a woman's lifelong commitment to family, to her larger community, and to any and all persons less fortunate than herself. How bizarre!
But, this did indeed happen.
At or about 10 am, on Tuesday morning, May 16, 2006 -- there was a loud banging at the door to Gwen Finney-Wood and her husband, Jim Wood's, 18th Floor apartment located at 5201 S. Cornell Ave in Hyde Park.
Having just finished their morning coffee and about to begin packing to return to their home in Hawaii -- they were startled and terrified by the voices yelling, "open the door, Sheriffs’ department!" -- and were further traumatized when they opened the door to find four, armed, uniformed police officers from the Sheriff's Office standing menacingly at their door. The police officers barged in unceremoniously and demanded the Woods get dressed and get out of their apartment immediately!
With little less than two or three minutes to gather their thoughts, change from sleepwear to street clothing -- they were physically ejected from a place they'd called home for nearly 7 years.
Neighbors, friends, residents of the condominium -- administrative, security and maintenance staff of the Cornell Village Condominiums -- all of whom over the years had come to know the Woods personally -- watched in stunned disbelief as they witnessed the household furnishings and personal belongings of this elderly couple being set out on the sidewalk in front of their very stately building.
News spread fast that this indignity had been visited upon the daughter of longtime Cornell Village resident/owner, Leon D. Finney, Sr.; and, that her brother, the Reverend Dr. Leon D. Finney, Jr., was responsible for the forcible eviction. It was common knowledge among residents of the Cornell Village that Rev. Dr. Finney, Jr., had recently gained personal and financial guardianship of his father's estate after the senior Finney was adjudicated a disabled person due to an advance stage of Alzheimer's Disease.
The details of the Finney family saga pales in the face of the humiliation, hurt, and pain a purported “Man of God” chose to inflict on his own sister as he hides behind the guise of protecting his father's financial interests. However, this situation is perhaps all the more disgraceful because given the hypocrisy and demonstrated cruelty Rev. Dr. Finney, Jr., exhibited toward his own flesh and blood -- he exposed himself as an absolute antithesis of what the beloved “Lou” Jones represents to those who came together on May 16, 2006, at his historic, Metropolitan Apostolic Church, to honor and praise her.
Shame on you my brother, Leon, Jr., for your heresy and disrespect of a life that deserved far more than you brought to the pulpit.
Gwendolyn Finney-Wood
I called Gwen a little bit ago, and amazingly, she and her husband are in fantastic spirits. The sheriff who came to evict them, upon hearing the circumstances under which the eviction was happening, said, "You guys take as much time as you need to pack your stuff. It's cool." So, they're packing their valuables and memorables and moving back to Hawaii, where Gwen's family is, and they'll start a barbecue joint out there. Sure hope they can ship, because I will NEVER, EVER, go to Leon's Barbecue in Chicago EVER, and I would ask that y'all do the same.
<
The new machines apparently don't interface well with the old machines, so all the totals need to be hand-tallied is the word coming out of the guvmint center. And all I can think to myself is, "Y'all couldn't have tested this shit BEFORE THE PRIMARY, MAYBE!?? Just a thought." Dumbasses. So now, the paper will have to spend another entire issue devoted to results, which is, like, whatever.
All I covered tonight was school board stuff, which was fine because it was my last official story on the one school board I covered with regularity. And since I refuse tono longer cover them, I feel no compunction in saying that today was a sad, sad day in Highland, because the town just reelected the man who was in no small part responsible for running the district into the ground. No small wonder since he spent the last 3 1/2 years bad-mouthing all the efforts of the current board, of course, but that's how they roll over there. This is not to say that the current board was puppies and sunshine; it handled things very badly, especially in the beginning of its tenure -- the proverbial bulls in a china shop, if you will. And I'll be the first to admit that bought into the hype put forth by the old guard. But then I saw the financials of the board on which the guy who was reelected sat -- the shoddy record-keeping, the allowing the assistant superintendent to take off for ISBA business that just happened to coincide with her daughter's college basketball games, the way he and his former board members fought so hard for LIFETIME INSURANCE BENEFITS from the school town for elected positions that they don't even pay into, the insane attorney fees with an attorney that didn't have a contract with the school board -- and I learned real quick that thpugh the new board might not be the most charismatic and touchy-feely, it had a lot of cleaning up to do. And anyways, I'm sure the old guard would've been crabby, too, if every one of THEIR meetings turned into an ugly spectacle like they made the the current board's for 3 1/2 years. Point is, I will continue to tell all my friends with school-age kidlets that they need to get the hell out of dodge before the kidlets get to middle school.
[And as a sidenote to Mr. Jackass Attorney who accused me of impartiality when covering the board debates and most likely the board as a whole over the last 3 1/2 years a couple weeks ago, I have this to say: Contrary to popular belief, reporters unequivocally do have opinions about the things they cover; if they say they don't, they're lying, myself included. The true craft of being a reporter, however, is to be able to report the facts no matter how infuriating, nauseating and offensive those facts may be to you, and I will be happy to sit down with you to go over every single story I've ever written on the School Board and compare them to every single minute of meeting tape to show you just how impartial I was. Name the date and time, and I'll be there, though I don't expect you really would because I know you were just lashing out after I asked you if you were bankrolling the one candidate. But the offer stands, my friend.]
Anyway.
My 'hood is now infested with stupid people who yell and scream like morons all the time. Most of the time, it's celebratory yelling and screaming, but I expect the "You done me wrong, Cletus, and now I'm going to throw the toaster at yew" yelling and screaming to commence at any time.
<
Couldn't happen to a skinnier, nastier bitch: Lookit
<
to fill up my fucking gas tank. That ain't right.
<
So, did y'all hear about the Native American warrior goddess (and I mean that in the most reverant, respectful way, because any woman with cajones as big as hers deserves a befitting title) who, when the fucktards in South Dakota (is that even really a state?) decided they were going to ban abortion, said she would build a Planned Parenthood on her reservation, where the fucktard government doesn't apply? Here's the information to either donate or give her a shout-out for her brilliance and bravery, since you just KNOW the rest of the fucktards are going to nail her to the cross simultaneously: Lookit
[Via mac, of course]
<
Nicole Kidman: Loved her look, even with the blonde hair and the massive forehead.
Jon Stewart was entirely too hip and smart for the Oscars. Bring back Steve Martin.
Charlize: Whose idea was it to take the big-ass bow off the butt of her dress and put it on her shoulder? Seriously.
Jessica Alba: Needs a sandwich.
Rachel Weisz: Why did she have velcro straps around her arms?
Jennifer Garner: Hasn't weaned Violet off the boob yet, in case you couldn't tell.
Keira Knightley: Eh. She looked all right. She's got a big ol' moon face.
Three-six: Holla!
Naomi Watts: Couldn't find a seamstress to fix her dress after she got part of it caught in a paper shredder.
Michelle Williams: Is my new Emmy Rossum. And nice red lipstick with the canary yellow dress.
Rachel McAdams: Putting a '40s 'do with a '60s frock doesn't work.
Jennifer Lopez: Usually I hate some aspect of the looks she goes for, but she was dead-on this time. Loved her dress, loved her hair, everything.
Felicity Huffman: Looked like used the double-sided tape for more than just keeping her dress in place.
Reese: Fine, but too conservative for my taste. Also, I didn't take her "real women" comment as a slam against Felicity playing a transsexual, but apparently others have. Who knew?
Dolly: There are no words for glammed-up trailer trash. It just kind of speaks for itself.
Ziyi Zhang: Gor-JUS.
Uma: I think she looked all right. Better than that other crap she wore a year or two ago.
Your turn.
<
Ok, so where are all the Oscar fashion entries? I'm dyin' over here.
<
Still no official word if Maust is dead dead or not, but here's the suicide note as reprinted by the P-T. It's really very sad.
Wait ... what!??<
Is it just me, or does anyone else want to pop actress Emmy Rossum in the face!?? I swear, every time I see her, I just want pummel her and smash her stupid little head into the ground. Don't know what it is.
Geena Davis -- A vision in red. HOT.
Marcia Cross -- Coral does NOT go with your coloring, no matter what your stylist says.
Who punched Scarlet Johanssen in the mouth!??
Alanis makes enough money, so what was up with the see-thru burlap sack? (and where was her hot fiance!?)
<
Got to reading the whole James Frey-A Million Little Pieces controversy yesterday -- if you haven't read it, here t'is: Lookit. Well-executed, if lengthy, piece of investigating journalism. If you're not familiar and don't want to read the whole thing, here's a rundown: Frey wrote this book about his drug-, violence- and booze-addled life; it became a huge best-seller and eventually got the coveted Oprah seal of approval. Thing is, there were several passages that fell into the whole "if it seems too unreal, it probably is" scenario, so TSG investigated. The verdict? About the only thing they could prove true was that Frey spent time at Hazelden. According to its account, Frey even admitted to TSG (off the record, natch) that a lot of the stuff was written with dramatic license, even though to the outside world, he pimps it all as 1 million percent true.
Well, after Frey figured out that the TSG homies were sitting on his funeral pyre with a blowtorch, he freaked and sicced his lawyer on them, and then like a big dumbass posted on his Web site TSG's response to him -- which enumerates their off-the-record conversation in detail -- on his Web site, effectively ruining any defense he had about keeping stuff "off the record" in the first place. What posessed him to do that, I don't know -- perhaps he thinks because all these people bought the book and therefore bought into the lie, they won't buy stone-cold evidence.
But I digress.
I wish I would've watched Frey's Larry King interview last night, because according to AP, l'Oprah called in and stood by him, saying the only relevant point on which the masses should focus is that Frey was a drug addict who overcame his drug addictness. NOT that he wholesale fabricated or embellished to the nth degree THE ENTIRE BOOK and claims it's his life song-and-verse, but that he's a survivor.
I don't know how it is that I keep being amazed by the lengths in which people will go to protect their almighty dinero, but Jesus Christ, man! I mean, if it was mere getting facts wrong or that he pimped it as a work of fiction like he originally tried (but publishing houses wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole), that's one thing. But HE LIED. How could Oprah think it's a good thing to come out and support this guy!?? Is she screwing him or something? Because that's insane.
If you got the time, read TSG's report -- especially the part about how he took credit for a fatal accident in which he WAS NOT INVOLVED EVER. Un.real.
<
Driving to Poppy's yesterday, and what do I see but a big fancy white Hemi truck with its business advertising all up on it. The name of the business? "Rolling Stone Masonry." "Clever," I think, for an NWI business.
NOW IF ONLY YOU HADN'T GONE AHEAD AND ADOPTED THE ROLLING STONES LOGO AS YOUR OWN AND EMBLAZONED IT ON THE SIDE OF THE DAMN TRUCK, I COULD'VE LET IT GO, DUMBASS.
My editor's going to send me the story I did on what happens to businesses who don't do their due diligence before choosing a company name, but basically, if you get caught using a company's name, likeness or anything about it, it's called trademark dilution, and you're screwed: Lookit. And the penalties ain't cheap. At the very least, the Rolling Stones could send a "cease and desist"; if he's smart, homie would change his truck, letterhead and all other facets of his business -- a huge expense, as the subjects of my story found out. But we've already established he's not by virtue of using the trademark in the first place, so if he doesn't get rid of it, the fines start about $250,000, as I recall.
I wish I'd gotten where this cat's out of, because I'd have no qualms sending him a letter instructing him of his dumbass-ness.
[UPDATE: See story below.]
<
Going through my e-mail this morning, and I took a gander at Al's Morning Meeting, like I'm wont to do. (AMM, for those who've never been, is a journalist newsletter that provides topics from all over the country.) The first topic this morning was about how these t-shirts with a snowman on them are getting banned in schools; this rapper inexplicably named Jeezy uses them as his logo. Thing is, "snowman" apparently means "drug dealer" in certain circles, so schools are all freaked out about it.
The following is what Master Jeezy said to Mtv in defense of his logo:
'Snowman is a cool dude,' he continued. 'He's a gangsta too. There's a Snowman in every 'hood, several Snowmen in the 'hood. You gotta be that dude to look up to with the car and the girl. Whatever you do, be the best at it, because that's what the Snowman is going to do.'
<
Watching a bunch of middle-aged teachers trying to learn West African dancing tonight was pretty damn hilarious, I must say. Different syncopation, my ass -- even I could figure out how it went. Or maybe it's just the repressed drummer girl in me.
So, did I tell y'all about taking Mother to get her flu shot a week or so ago? No no, nothing particularly remarkable about it except for these two Mexican women who brought a Satan spawn of hell into the waiting room. Now, I'll point out that we had to be up early to get Mother there for me to work the rest of the day, so clearly my happy wasn't firing on all pistons. But these two started chattering away loudly in Spanish, and the kid started screaming for whatever reason. Well, you'd have thought someone was stabbing me in the head with a spoon, because I'm quite sure my blood pressure went up and I had steam coming out of my ears. I tried shushing them first, and that worked for about two minutes before the brat started howling again. So after giving them the hairy eyeball for awhile, I made a production of getting up out of my seat and moving to the other side of the waiting room, and that shut them up long enough for Mother to have gotten her shot.
The reason I bring this up? Chicago trixie moms are having a hemorrhage at a bakery/coffe shop owner for putting a sign up in his shop that asks them to make sure their children are using their "indoor voices": Lookit.
Now, when I was a wee broad, it was tradition that on Fridays, the folks would pick me up from school, then pick up my grandmother (the one I hated, of course, and who hated me back with equal ardor) and we'd go to Baker's Square when it was known as Poppin' Fresh, or perhaps Steffie & Joe's in Highland, which is now a parking lot on the corner of Highway and Kennedy. So we'd go and enjoy our dinner, and in order to keep me quiet, the folks would allow me to make "lemonade" with the water (read: pour as much salt, pepper, sugar and lemon into my water as possible. It was pretty). Either that or they'd let me bring in a book of some sort, but there was no crawling under the table or looking over the side of the booth at the neighbors or any other such nonsense; if there was, I'd have had a foot up my ass. So would someone like to tell me why it's so offensive to ask these parents to control their children? It's not like the guy is even being a jerk about it, but here are all these women talking about boycotting the joint. I don't think it's too much to ask that if you're child is acting a fool, get him or her out of the situation.*
<
If Mother is difficult to deal with when I'm firing on all pistons, believe me when I tell you she's downright unbearable when I feel like shit warmed-over. I take her to Strack's to get some groceries, and this woman came up to me and started making polite conversation in the deli line. Well, Mother, who was previously in the bakery line, comes barreling up and talking right over the woman about how she wants "five slices of chicken roll" and how "Wait, chicken breast isn't the same thing as chicken roll!" and ohmifuckingGOD, will you stop behaving like an 8 year-old already!?
Not sure if any of y'all pay attention to New York media like I do, but there's a story out about a free-lancer who's been arrested for impersonating a firefighter and sexually assaulting a co-worker of his ex-girlfriend for 13 hours after setting a small fire in her apartment building and holding her hostage: Lookit. Authorities have pegged this guy, whose star once shone bright but then hit the skids, right? Well, this guy's got a rap sheet, and on it is how he stalked and tormented his former girlfriend for, like, two years. Even better? He kept a couple blog-like up things about it -- cleverly hidden in a Web site about a play he'd written. Here's one of them -- Lookit -- and on it is the link to the other one. Just ... wow. If the guy wasn't so fucked up, you'd almost have to admire his writing. Goes to show you what too much intelligence can do to a person sometimes.
[Link via Editrix]
<
The horror that is David Maust, behind perhaps the most notorious murder in Northwest Indiana, has finally come to an end, it seems; he took the plea and will now serve three consecutive life sentences at an undisclosed prison for the murders of Jimmy Raganyi, Michael Dennis and Nick James.
I'm proud to say that I was the one who broke the story to the world when it happened in December 2003; a source of mine called me to tell me that the Hammond Fire Department was going to the Ash street house to follow up on a suspicion that bodies were buried in its foundation. I immediately called the paper, and they ... gave it to staff writers to write, which is what they do on huge stories like that. But, since I was the correspondent who gave them the tip, they were cool and threw me a bone: Find the kid with a common Mexican surname in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood who was with Michael Dennis the night he decided to run away from home. I did it, too, on the first try, and that's still one of my best reporting memories -- that and the fact that I was the only correspondent the paper allowed to work on the story.
So anyway, I've worked on the story since then, covering vigils for the boys and whatnot. But reading the way this ended has made me incredibly sad, not for the kids' parents, because I've been sad for them since it happened. I'm sad for Maust. Seriously.
The following is taken from Post-Tribune crime beat correspondent and homegirl Ruthann Krause:
<
Once again, the cleanup has begun at Chez Broad for the impending arrival of the Snidge; this time, she's bringing along her baby brudder, and we're going to see this massive hunk o' musical genius at Park West Saturday night, to which I've never been. Save for Roger Clyne this summer, it's my first real concert in a long time, so I'm pumped. And thankfully, the crib still is in pretty good shape from when she was up here for the races in September. Could it be that I'm becoming less of a human pig?
(snicker)
In the meantime, I'm taking a break from picking up, and I check the competition's Web site to see what they've got going; it's something I do to a) see if we've been scooped and b) compare stories with the reporter I covered something with. So I scroll down to the columnist section, and I see this one columnist has a new one up about an incident that happened last Wednesday near East Chicago where this pigfucker named George Soltis made a couple homeade bombs and took his soon-to-be ex-wife Dora on the ride of her almost-death. By the grace of God, Dora was able to jump out of the moving vehicle, but not before pigfucker beat the will to live out of her with the ass-end of a .357. As well, pigfucker called Dora's son to tell him his plan to blow the two of them to kingdom come, and the boy was able to call police, who then found the two, arrested pigfucker and detonated the explosive devices.
[A side note: This all happened not more than five minutes from Chez Broad, and I DIDN'T HEAR A DAMN THING. I was home all night, too. And not drunk.]
Naturally, the event was front-page news with the requisite photos of a badly beaten Dora, so the columnist wrote about it and how yeah, it was great that Dora escaped from the pigfucker alive, but you know, she saw the signs that the guy was bad news. Why didn't she get out sooner!?? Or why did she go out for that one last dinner with him!?? And I thought to myself, "You know, [name redacted for not wanting to pimp out the competition, plus this guy's a jerk], methinks that you're spending too much time in the casinos observing people's behavior -- to which you devoted a whole column -- or you've forgotten the time you spent over in the Balkans covering the war, or you're just not getting a whole lot of real-life assignments, because you really don't have a clue, do you?"
<
You'd think that being in the biz I'm in, I'd be a lot more jaded and not surprised about the stuff I learn about people and their natures. But sadly, that is not the case, and I'm continously stunned.
Snidge and I spent a good portion of tonight pouring through a message board a couple friends of mine (and hers, sort of) frequent. We did this because she has somewhat of a vested interest, although after what we saw tonight? I doubt that's going to be a problem for much longer, because holy fucking shit, Batman! The crap that the one friend spewed absolutely horrified me. (The other one wasn't anywhere near as bad, but then, that friend and I have talked about his views before, so I wasn't quite as shocked. Also, he wasn't a complete jackass when espousing his views, either.) The topic they were discussing? Gay fostering.
In case I have to spell it out for y'all, here's what I think about it. Me, and me alone:
1. Homosexuality is biological.
2. There are exceptions, such as gross sexual abuse or a domineering fucktard parent that may possibly affect a person's sexuality, but they're not the rule.
3. Homosexuals do NOT wake up one day and decide, "Mmmmmmmm, sucking d!ck/eating pie sounds like fun. I think I'm going to try that today."
4. Homosexuals do NOT pass "gay cooties" to anyone, not even in prison.
5. Homosexuality in prison is NOT homosexuality, but rather an exercise in dominance and control about 95 percent* of the time.
6. It is NOT anybody's business what anyone else is doing in their bedrooms, kitchens or attics.
7. Ergo, since there's no such thing as gay cooties, there is no reason on this Godforsaken earth that a foster child should not be given to a couple who can provide him or her the love and security s/he desperately needs, be they straight, gay or asexual. Period.
My friend, in the meantime, said on this board that, among other things, he would support legislation that would make it tougher for couples to divorce when there's children involved. Now, the guy has been divorced with children already, so I can appreciate where he's going with that. However, he himself describes his current marriage as a "nightmare" a goodly portion of the time, complete with yelling and screaming and all kinds of nonsense unbecoming to a family unit. So how is having your children exposed to that kind of behavior any better than having them raised by gay people? Seriously, can someone reasonably explain that to me? (And if you're going to, have your sources ready, because "It's just WRONG" is NOT an answer.)
I'll tell you what: If you're hellbent on doing a background check on a potential trick? Get their e-mail handles and then look them up on as many BBSs as you can find. THAT'S where you'll learn the most.
<
Patty caved. All's well with the world.
Thanks to Mac again for spreading the good news.
<
And thank God for Cipro, because man! is it nice not to piss fire. Just as good? A doctor who gives you a scrip with refills.
Yeah, I'm still prone to UTIs. Nothing's changed.
Alice over at finslippy posted the other day about weaning off her brain meds, which happen to be Effexor, just like I take. And lots of people wrote to comment that "weaning good, cold-turkey bad," especially with Effexor, which apparently has a hellacious withdrawal. "Apparently," I say? Well, I'm going to let y'all in on a little secret: I've never experienced it. That's not to say people don't, because obviously they do, or there wouldn't be board upon board talking about the "head sloshing" and other awfulness. I just don't have it. In fact, I can go a few days where I forget to take it, and I'm all right. Now, if I don't take it for longer than, say, a week, I start getting monster-crabby and more anxiety-ridden, but nothing seriously painful. I wonder what kind of freak that makes me? It always scares me, though, when people focus only on the withdrawal and thus judge the medicine by that and not its merits; if it weren't for Effexor, I don't know what would've become of me after Dad died. Or like B-Dubs when I saw him on the 4th of July and he asked what meds I was taking now (full disclosure: He and I are both ADHD, and we've both done the whole Ritalin/Adderall/Concerta gig). When I told him Effexor, he was like, "Oh," in that "Wow, you're seriously fucked up if you're on THAT" kind of way. And I was thinking, "Yeah, and you were on Haldol and Risperidol when you were coming down from your bullshit. What the fuck?" Anyway, my doctor says I can stay on it forever if I like, and with my propensity for anxiety and paranoia, I don't see any particular reason to ever come off.
Speaking of the gene-pool, got a call from the detective today: He's setting up an appointment to talk to Crackhead in jail Friday. This ought to be good.
<
The Republican geniuses in the Indiana gubmint are huffing the glue again, this time trying to regulate reproductive rights by banning gays and single people from pursuing in-vitro and other forms of reproduction not involving sex. Lookit. Now, interestingly enough, the bill's not up on Patty's Web site. Nevertheless, how's about we let Patty -- and all the other legislators, for that matter -- know that that ain't right?
You got your pick of the litter here: Lookit. And here's where you find Patty:
Patricia Miller
Indiana State Senator, District 32
200 W. Washington Street
Indianapolis, IN 46204
(317) 232-9400
(800) 382-9467
And? The woman has a freakin' mullet. What does THAT tell you?
[Ganked from the always lovely Mac.]
<
Hey, everybody! Guess who landed in jail on a prior felony theft warrant after she was busted driving on a suspended license with a dude carrying a nonpermitted gun stolen from Texas!?? Anyone?
Awwww, c'mon now. This is easy!
Yeah. Crazy Aunt called me tonight with the news. Imagine my surprise (yawn). So I called the detective to let him know what's what. We'll see if anything happens.
So tonight before covering a muni meeting, the Gary Bureau editor called and asked if I wanted to cover the NAACP's annual dinner, with Dick Gregory as its keynote speaker. Well, the editor gave me the wrong time for the event -- he said it started at 6 when it really started at 7 -- so I didn't get to hear his speech. I did accost him while he was heading to the can "to go pee" (his words), though, and he made some interesting points about landowners in the states hit by the hurricane. Whoever they are, how're they going to prove they own the land when all the paperwork and/or computer archives have been effectively destroyed? And because of that, who's to say that the gubmintbig business isn't going to go on a massive land grab? Not that I necessarily think something like that is going to happen, but it certainly could, and I guess it wouldn't surprise me if it did. Anyway, about the time we ended our chat, the group was singing the Black National Anthem, and so we stood arm-in-arm and swayed as they sang.
I stood arm-in-arm with a major celebrity. How you like me now?
Then I ran into this idiot on my way out of the casino. He was going in to gamble because apparently, he's gotten off the sauce again.
<
I've been informed by a certain wad that I need to be updating more often. Sorry -- long week, sort of.
Last year, I'd wanted to post the whole "where I was when the planes hit on Sept. 11" like many in the blogosphere were doing, but I didn't. Can't remember why -- perhaps it was because by the time the day came and went, I didn't want to look like a tool posting it after "the day." Anyway, I was covering a 9/11 ceremony at our County Government Complex Friday when one of the commanders for one of the Legion posts asked participants if they remember where they were when it happened.
I remember it like it was yesterday ...
<
Horked from the rockin' Rebel, here's how you do it: Go to musicoutfitters and enter the year you graduated high school into the search box to get your top 100 song list. Then bold the songs you like, underline your favorites and strike out the ones you hate. If you don't remember or don't care about a particular song, leave it alone.
Wait ... what!??<
After the day I had and then reading this? In total tears.
Lookit.
Be sure to read the whole thing, and then feel free to carry on the conversation in the comments if you like.
<
She and I have been talking about injecting new blood in the 'rolls, so I was perusing and I came across this: Lookit.
I can think of several people off the top of my head who won't appreciate a word this woman has to say, but I say "Read it, anyway," and then try real hard. She done put a fine point on it that even the biggest blockhead can understand.
<
Judy Miller's taking one for the team, while Matt Cooper gets spared. Lookit.
<
FUCKING pussy: Below you'll find what ol' Normy Pearlstine, chief girl at Time Inc., had to say about his bending over for the courts and giving up Matt Cooper's notes.
"'I tend to be one who temporizes and doesn't make a decision before I have to,' " Mr. Pearlstine said." Translation: "I didn't know what to do until Horgan said he might level even steeper fines than 1G a day. Then it all came to me."
[Via Gawker]
<
Found this over at this dude Uncle Bob's, who I'd never read but apparently got dooced. I really, really dig it, so read it and learn.
[Via the lovely Zoot, whose husband really didn't shave off all his body hair.]
<
Here it is, folks -- the end of a free press as we know it: Lookit.
<
JACKSON ENDING SLEEPOVERS IN HIS ROOM.
Shut-UP! Seriously!?!?
<
Horked from Mac, this needs no 'splainin': Lookit.
If our lefty leaders ain't going to get their asses in gear and jump on this tidbit, then perhaps we out here in the 'sphere need do it from the ground up. I mean, I'm all about pointing out that Perkins is a racist jackass. How about y'all!?
Then again -- and I'm picking this up after finishing a story, so you're not seeing things -- I wonder how much the uber-right has been able to infiltrate the African-American community.
<
Leave it to Oprah to get me all teary eyed and shit tonight -- did y'all see it today? She featured Carolyn Thomas, the woman who's ex pigfucker murdered her mother and then shot off half her face. By some miracle, she lived to tell the tale and is currently going through a ton of reconstructive surgery to restore something resembling a face. The part that got me? When the EMT who saved her life by digging bone and tissue out of the wound so she could breathe came out to meet her. That was rough. Also really upsetting is the fact that many of her friends abandoned her because ultimately, they can't deal with the severity of her injuries. God, we humans are a crappy bunch, ain't it?
So. I started writing a month or so ago about a breakfast talk I covered; it was sponsored by the Lake County Sheriff's Department, and it was all about woman beating from a recovering woman beater's POV. Waymon Brown is the guy's name -- he's out of Ft. Wayne, and he was a phenomenal speaker if you ever need someone to cover the topic. Anyway, among all the things he said, this one thing stuck out for me:
I know -- simple, right? But how profound is that? Totally blew me away, because I sure as hell never looked at it like that. But I don't think I've ever heard truer words about the subject.
Now that I've totally ruined your buzz, remind me to tell you about how I discovered today that peanut butter does in fact go bad after awhile. I'd tell you tonight, but I (finally) finished giving birth to that 68 (!!) inch story I've been working on all week. Lump that in with the 30-incher with which I gave Tara a heart attack by turning in today and two dailies, and this Broad needs to pass out.
<
Kalisah talked about this load of bullshit yesterday, but since Inside Edition just replayed it, all I gots to say is, "Nicole, be GLAD you got yourself out of that mess, because your ex? Is a fucking fruitbat." Do you even HEAR yourself when you open your mouth, Tom? Because exactly what point of reference do you have that you can tell a woman how she should treat her postpartum depression? Seriously. Until you start crapping out babies and have to deal with fucked-estrogen levels, shush.
Vitamins. Yeah, because the natural route worked so well with Andrea fucking Yates. Dipshit.
<
Caught this via Gawker today -- wasn't previously familiar with the case, but it's a really well-done article on it.
In the meantime, I could've sworn I saw my brother's car circling outside. I'd have peeked out the window, but I was topless at the time.
<
Ok, so after giving Snidgey the lowdown on what prompted my lesson in dirty e-mailing, we've decided that to further help out the male population, we would start a new feature, tentatively titled "What not to say in a dirty e-mail" -- you know, like "What not to wear," only with dirty e-mail. So ladies, please feel free to contribute* the stupidest things you've ever heard a dude say to get you going, and here they shall be featured.
Since we've already discussed the whole "intrauterine" fiasco, I'll get the ball rolling with "I want to f' your clit" (physically impossible, so AGAIN, learn your anatomy, por favor) and from Snidgey, "I want to lick your labia," which just sounds plain WRONG.
<
For the boys out there (and one in particular) who want to spice up their foreplay with a little dirty e-talkin': It is never, EVER Ok to use the word "intrauterine" in your shtick. NOT EVER. Instead of making you seem erudite and well-read, as you're no doubt going for, you look like a big retard who doesn't know how a woman's innards work. Do you understand me? Seriously, just stick to the easy ones, like "pussy" or "cunt," and you'll be fine.
<
Doing my morning reading today (read: Wasting time before I have to jump into the shower because damn, broadband is just THAT COOL) and I venture on over to Romenesko, the reporter gossip blog, to catch up on all the reading I hadn't gotten done yesterday. And I come across probably the most disturbing thing I have in awhile: Lookit. Seriously, read what this woman said and then the reaction she got because of it.
I don't get it. How could anyone have gotten, "The military is systematically eliminating journalists in Iraq," from what she said. More importantly, when did people stop listening? Yeah, Ok, dumb question, but I mean ... God. That's just over-the-top.
<
Saw this over at Kaffy the badass' last night and then Mac picked up on it this morning, but our good friends over at Kraft have signed on as a sponsor for the 2006 Gay Games, to be held in Chicago. That's the cool thing. The not-cool? The dolts over at some fundie nut hut (I know who it is, but no face time for them) have called upon their masses to boycott Kraft and its products (which as one commenter over at Mac's put it, "But if they boycott Kraft, what will they EAT? Everyone knows that people like that make all their casseroles out of a box." Heh. Well done!). Well, we can play that game, too, so here's who you gotta contact for giving the love and support:
Kraft Foods
CEO Roger K. Deromedi
3 Lakes Dr.
Northfield, IL 60093
Phone: 847-646-2000
Fax: 847-646-6005
TOLL FREE: 1-800-323-0768
Or, e-mail them here.
<
If there was every a case to be made for Nicole to get back on the horse, this would be it, because at least then, she didn't look quite so bad.
[Image courtesy of Defamer]
<
So Saturday, Kaffy was having her Roots o' Doom(tm) eviscerated by EWK, and afterward we convened at a local European restaurant to consume more food than humanly possible when the subject turned to Oprah and her ever-changing shtick. Now, I loves me some Oprah, but we all agreed that this weight-loss business has colored her affected more than any other time she's dropped a ton of weight.
I use that to segue into my big issue, which is the way she handled an interview on today's show. Anyone catch it -- the one on women who were involved with child molesters? In the first segment, she talked to this woman, Jody Bowman, who shot dead the pigfucker that molested her child. So Jody retold the whole story -- it'd already aired on Court TV -- and then it was time for Oprah to talk to ask Jody about the signs of molesters living in your crib and what she'd have done differently, etc. Now, I have no doubt that Oprah's staff does big-time due diligence before letting a guest come forward and that when she goes on stage, she's loaded for bear. Also? She has a limited time for each segment. But sometimes, that's the problem with knowing too much when you go to interview and having too little time, because she was clearly leading Jody into the answers she needed to fit her spin. Does Oprah know what she's talking about? Having been a victim herself, yeah, of course. And I seriously doubt that Jody was lying. But I don't think she handled that part of the interview well, because it came off contrived. Watch it and see if you agree.
OR watch it anyway, because it really was a good show.
<
A close friend of mine (who shall remain nameless for our purposes here) was dating this dude, and dude turned out to be BatShitCrazy -- like, as in, she had a law enforcement pal look up the deets on this guy to find that dude had stalking and battery charges all over the Midwest, right!?!? Yeah, so after blowing him off all weekend, he calls her earlier this week to give her the guilt about not wanting anything to do with his sorry ass, and what does he do? The ol' suicide bit, which she didn't buy into, obviously, because this is a conversation she had with another one of her friends about it:
Her pal: You should have said, man you better get some sleep, too then!
To which we laaaaaaaaughed and laaaaaaaughed ...
Now, I've had people in my day try to pull that with me -- one a particularly odious little troll who had pretty bad renal disease, the others a close friend from high school and Mother (!) -- and I used to get all freaked out about it; I mean, they say you can't tell when someone's really serious about doing it, so you shouldn't take any chances.
Yeah, well, in my experience*, you CAN tell when someone's not serious about it. Know how? When THEY'RE TRYING TO GUILT YOU INTO TALKING THEM OUT OF IT, that's how. There's a reason people who're grieving suicide victims say they never saw it coming -- because the victim never let on that they were going to do it. If you've got someone flaunting it your face, they got problems, all right, but the will to live ain't one of them. Wait ... what!??
<
Remember my story on the "gross-out" game last week? The verdict was handed down last night, and I was there. The story and my thoughts after the jump.
Wait ... what!??<
I've spent the better part of the last 45 minutes perusing this site (lookit) of which the author trolls baby name BBSes and just SKEWERS her findings. It's fucking HILARIOUS. To wit:
Beautiful Welsh names (girls)
Aelwen(fair brow)
Arwen(Fair)
Briallen(primrose)
Drudwen(precious)
Ceindrych(Elegant, fair)
Ceiros(Cherries)
Cerian (to love ) Ce pronouced as KEE
Crisiant( crystal)
Faleiry (welsh form of valerie)
Fflur( flower)
Eiddwen Eira, Eiry (snow)
Enfys (rainbow)
Eswen(strength)
Eurwen(fair and golden)
Gwennant(fair stream)
Gwennog(smiling)
Gwylan(seagull)
Gwyneira (white snow)
Haf(summer)
Heulwen(sunshine)
Iorwen(lord, beautiful)
Llio Meinir(maiden)
Meinwen(slender n fair)
Melangell(sweet angel)
Saeran( an irish saint)
Tegan(beautiful)
Wynne(fair, blessed)
BOMB WALES NOW! Seriously, take any one of these words, put "Marie Johnson" behind it and try not to laugh. Now imagine the kindergarten teacher trying to say Fflur on the first day of school. That's right. ...
"Put Marie Johnson behind it"!?!? Comedy TITANIUM, y'all.
This reminds me of when my pal Laura, before she had her darling chitlins, would call me when she got her class rosters before the first day of school. Fast forward one year to Open House, and she encountered a parent who inSISTED her daughter's name is pronounced, "Tatiana." But how is it spelled? "Titania." And she wasn't kidding, folks.
<
Now that the guvmint boneheads have gotten it this far, I hope every family that's in this situation -- whether it's gone on as long Terri's or not -- implores Congress to afford them the exact same privilege over and over and over again so that they'll be soooooo tied up with this, they won't be able to focus on anything else ever again. Qu'est-ce que cela va dire, You reap what you sow!?!?
That is all.
<
From the time I was a wee broad, Mother told me the story of how the summer before she and Dad got engaged, he hightailed it to Alaska. Apparently, the pressure from both sets of parents -- "But he's not Catholic, Anka!" "I want you to marry a college girl, Lee!" -- was bumming him out, so he split. Obviously, they got back together (after Mother gave him 10 kinds of hell for a month or two), but he always talked about the amazing beauty of Alaska: the wildlife, the mountains, the tranquility, but especially the wildlife.
Don't know whether he ever got up to the Alaskan National Wildlife Refuge, but in February I covered a talk about it. Below, the article:
A widower with three sons living in Northeastern Alaska as part of the Gwichin Indian tribe, Solomon feeds his family by hunting and fishing off the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, a giant piece of wilderness shared between Alaska and Canada. But their lifeblood could soon be decimated by oil drills if the federal government has anything to say about it, he told members of the Izaak Walton League of America Monday night.
If oil development is allowed on the plain, the 8,000-member Gwichin tribe stands to its way of life for the past 20,000 years. For example, caribou, which return to the plain on Prudhoe Bay each summer to give birth, would likely suffer decreased herds because of displacement from drilling, thereby cutting off the tribes food supply. Plus, the nature of drilling would destroy acres upon acres of an untouched ecosystem.
Theres a 65 percent unemployment rate in most of Alaska, Solomon said, But as long as we have the right to hunt and fish on our land, that doesnt hurt us in any way.
Lenny Kohm, a wildlife conservationist and photographer who spent more than 15 years lecturing about the Gwichins plight and spends most summers among the tribe, said that the amount of oil that the government hopes to harvest from the plain is about 3.2 billion gallons, or a six-month supply based on normal American usage. And that number cant be proven.
Theres a 20 percent chance of (the oil) actually being there, Kohm said. When (Spanish explorers) came through Mexico, they destroyed the Aztecs and Mayans, because they needed the gold. Then 150 years ago, we ran the Native Americans out, because we wanted the land. Now, were getting ready to do it again, because we need the oil.
The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, considered a prime piece of land for drilling since 1925, was declared as such in 1980 by the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act by former President Jimmy Carter, Kohm explained. Because the Coastal Plain has always been a target for drilling, however, Carter classified it as a study area until such time that it would be used for other things.
In order for the plains to receive refuge status, a bill before the House of Representatives, H.R. 567 will have to pass. It may not have a shot, however, since President George Bush in his budget for 2006 has earmarked money for the Open Up Arctic Refuge.
Its not even a budget item, but he knows that as a budget bill in the Senate, it cant be filibustered, Kohm said.
Kohm, along with Kim Novick, Great Lakes Organizer for the Alaska Coalition, pleaded with League members to contact Sen. Richard Lugar to vote against the budget. For his Alaskan Indian family, he prays the efforts will work.
If it passes, that first drill is going to have to come right through here, Kohm said, pointing to his heart.
Well, now I find out from Rude that it passed 51-49 to drill up the ANWR for oil they can't say for sure is even down there. Big oil (and the Republicans who support it) say that it can be drilled with minimal effect to the environment. Do you buy that? Do you really think that bringing heavy equipment to an area that;s never been exposed to it is going to survive and multiply? Do you think the birds and animals are going to want to come back to that shit every year? And once again, for oil that may not even be there.
Look at those pictures of the ANWR and tell me if you think that's right.
<
Anyone been following the Jeff Gannon/Jim Guckert/White House debacle? What I want to know is, how is this different from Bill and Monica in terms of hurting the country's credibility? When it comes down to it, all Bill and Monica ultimately did was hurt themselves (and, of course, Hillary and Chelsea). This jackass, on the other hand, put into question the White House's whole press set-up -- giving it an air of dishonesty worse than it already has -- PLUS he's gay, which, you know, we're not supposed to like. So lessee here, a oversexed lothario diddling some chippy just like many other politicos in all parts of the great US of A and the world, for that matter vs. a political plant in the press corps purposely allowed to pimp one side of the coin
So please, someone spell it out for me: How is it different, other than it's your candidate's policies getting scrutinized? Oh, and if you're going to tell me that Kos, Aravosis and their ranks violated this 'mo's privacy, stick it up your ass; nothing was done that the right wouldn't have if the tables were turned.
<
Is it just me, or does Maya Keyes' coming-out speech sound disingenuous?
I mean, sure, I admit I might've heard that out of context, but it just sounded to me like the polite version of, "Ok, I'm really not sure if I like box or dick, but box sure is fun, and look how MAD it makes my dad! And I STILL get my Ivy League college for free! Look at me! Woo!" And honey, if that's your shtick, you're NOT HELPING. Again, I'm all about it if she's gay. I'm just saying if she's not, this is a shitty thing to be doing to the rest of the community.
While I'm on my social soapbox, did y'all see this? Got it over at Mac's. Someone please enlighten me, because that? Is bullshit.
<
Back in my college days, I used to write a column called "Sayeth the Mighty One" (as in "The Mighty Quinn" -- yeah, we were pretty clever back in the day), and I wrote a column on abortion. And it was plum-full of references to middle-aged men making choices for us when they have no right to do so, but one of the things I tried to do was compare abortion to prostate cancer. I did this by saying that if there were an experimental drug that would cure prostate cancer, the male heads of guvmint would waste no time in passing it, but when it comes to women's health issues? Fuck that. (I'm paraphrasing, of course -- not by much, but I used to be a lot bigger a blowhard. A LOT.) It wasn't a great analogy, but then again, I'm not sure there is one.
This that I got this over at Mac's today is awful close, though. If you're a woman, you need to read it, and then you need to read it again. And again, and again until it sinks in this is what it's going to come to if we don't pay attention.
<
"Sittin' (something something), eatin' soup/(something something something)/Now I don't got my soup no more/Now my soup is on the floor ..." Can I just tell you how awesome that is? Target rocks.
So, excitement for the last day or so? Well, Dell Financial pissed up my rope yesterday when I tried to purchase 512 of ram by telling me that they closed my account in April because of "payment history" (hey, I'm a free-lancer -- blow me), even though I've been paying double payments since then. Yeah, Ok, maybe that's how credit works, but what the hell am I going to do if my computer craps out for real, and I need a new one? Are they going to give me a new account? I doubt it. Fuckers. I don't remember credit always being so draconian.
Speaking of draconian, I can't decide how I feel about the Andrea Yates decision. I mean, I understand and appreciate she was sick and everything, and I don't doubt that living with the truth that she killed her kids is hell on earth enough. But what exactly did they change the sentence to? Does she get x amount of years in a brain garage and then let out? Is she in the brain garage for life? Because even if she was/is sick, she still has to be held accountable for killing her kids. Now, before anyone gets up in my grill about how heartless I am, I saw only that the verdict was changed, so if you want to tell me nicely what it was changed to, I'll appreciate your helping me make an informed decision.
In other events, Cousin Gary's memorial is this evening, and Mother is already calling me to ask me if the sweater she's wearing is a cowl neck or not. Because that matters.
<
Sent to me from my friend Lynne, aka Lurlene, the Trailer Court Queen (anyone into the rockabilly scene who doesn't know Lurlene needs a kick to the head) and sung to the tune of "Angels We Have Heard on High":
Wait ... what!??<
I just got done sending my e-mail list of pals a note that I got off my reporter newsletter about how those Godforsaken ribbon magnets that everyone is so jacked up about putting on their vehicles can actually maul the paint job if you leave them stuck in one spot for any length of time. And to that I say, "Heh."
You want to do something to support the troops? Use the $5 you pay for the stupid thing and buy some beef jerky or toilet paper or smokes or just use the money for postage and give it to an organization who's sending stuff to the troops already overseas. After all, the soldiers can't see your smarmy self-importance when they're dodging bullets in Iraq. Fer fuck's sake.
And before anyone gets all pissy that I'm not patriotic, I covered a Christmas party at one of our National Guard Armories yesterday in which 376th Battalion is leaving this week. Believe me, they don't need you to ruin your fucking cars on some hollow sentiment. They need your prayers.
P.S. Same goes for breast cancer.
<
Sent to me from the Emperor Warrior Kendar, who's sitting across from me on one laptop while I'm on the other.
Wait ... what!??<
I would KILL to be in this class: Lookit
<
Some more Mactastic information, this time about y'all's beloved TiVos: Lookit
Now, as I wrote to my Congressmen, just how exactly does Congress expect to enforce the part about not skipping over commercials? By spyware? Well, my man Pete's already voted against that in the Internet Spyware Prevention Act, so I'm guessing that's not an option. The only other option I can think of, then, is that police task forces will have to be formed, and they'll go out to each and every day to each and every household to see that people aren't fast-forwarding past the previews on videos or DVD, or aren't skipping them when they record on their TiVos. (Wonder if that would fall under Homeland Security? I'm sure they could get a grant for it or something.) Either way, those are gross violations of privacy, not to mention expensive to enforce.
Your choice, folks.
<
for a woman of a certain age (cough34 cough) to covet engaging in a May/December with the really hot Cinnabon rollista who, she's quite convinced, flirted with her last night at the mall? Even if he might be 16, 17-ish? That's legal, right? RIGHT!?!!?!?
Hey, Gabrielle's doing it ...
<
Just heard the jury read the verdict on the Scott Peterson case. Gave me the chills.
<
Back when Mer was in town, we were out one night -- in Hobart, of course, which if you know anything about NWI, you'll understand that what I'm about to tell you is typical -- and this dude started hitting on me (what comes next, not dudes hitting on me). I might've been intrigued, I'll admit, but then the guy flapped his yap about gay marriage and how it was wrong. (At that point, Zook, in one of his funnier moments, said "Oh no. Has she started using the hand gestures yet?" but I digress.)
What I did end up telling the jackass was that first of all, gay marriage has absolutely nothing to do with him and his life, because it doesn't; after all, millions upon millions of men were sodomizing each other at that very moment, and he was still standing there drinking his eight or ninth beer of the night, right!? But then I brought up that my brother is gay, and he was all, "Aw, yer just saying that," and I was like, "No. I'm not." He finally backed off, but here's what I wish I would've said if I thought this guy would've gotten it.
<
Confession time: When BFKAS found me, there were some concerns. The first one? If the reason she was contacting me was because she or a sibling needed a body part. The other one, however, came after I found out I had a brother, and it was a two-parter: 1) Was he a retarded dork with whom I wouldn't want to be seen in public (he's not), and 2) was he someone I may have DATED or (shudders) nailed in my wilder college days? And he's neither, because he's gay as well as quite a bit younger than even my youngest coed conquest. But the reason the second point was so crucial is because I found out through the mediator handling my case that the bio-fam has lived no more than a half-hour away from me my entire life, therefore making it quite conceivable that I may have interacted with one or more of them in any fashion. Case in point? When I was in college, my sister was on campus with me (albeit on a different part of campus), and I partied with quite a few of my brother-in-law's best friends. So when I read over at Mac's that our favorite Illinois Republican nitwit Keyes is making the leap to incest from gay marriage, it took me a minute to digest the sheer stupidity of his argument.
I mean, yeah, the thought did cross my mind. That being said, it was something I entertained semi-seriously for like, a minute at the bar one night with my best friend and her brother, and did I mention they lived a HALF. HOUR. AWAY? How many adoptees are that close in proximity to their bio-roots? Anyway, what I want to know is, how do explain the adoptees who're CONCEIVED OF INCEST? Does Keyes know, or did his handlers forget to tell him, that those kids aren't conceived by gay sex or turkey basters? Seriously, I can't even wrap my head around that.
How embarrassed and horrified the Reublicans must be by that moron. Betcha Jack Ryan and his thing for public blow jobs must look awful good about now.
In the meantime, I ordered me some new specs today, and they're a definite departure from what I've had the past four years. The ones I have now are dainty. The new ones? Well, let's just say they're like nothing I've seen on anyone in NWI yet. But I'm excited.
<
or did Shrub sound completely insincere when he talked about his faith? Because I TOTALLY didn't buy it.
Oh, and nothing like missing 3/4 of the debate because you thought you were on Eastern standard when you're really on Central. Der ...
<
Seven minutes to debatin' time, and mark my words: Shrub is going to choke on the domestic, wire or not.
<
Picked this up from Mac over at Pesky Apostrophe, where we both agree that the flip-flops in the picture? Are WAY cute. [NOTE: Since Kaffy pointed it out, the cute flip-flops are on Mac's page, not the link above.]
Our excellent taste in footwear aside, here's my question: Is there actually any hardcore proof that Shrub is as big a fundie Christian as he prides himself? Because it wouldn't be the first time that someone has pimped themselves out as one thing to get votes.
My next question should be that if that's the case, would the fundies have their undies in a wad over getting used like that, but I think they've already answered THAT one.
<
Got this from Choire, who got this from Poynter. The link's right there, but I'm also copying it in its entirety just because.
Quite a different story from all the Shrub rah-toric, n'est-ce pas?
<
All right, so the debate ... I think it went well for both of them, but I thought Kerry did a better job overall. (Full disclosure: This is also the first time I've ever heard Kerry speak at ay length about anything, so perhaps my judgement's a bit biased on that.) Still, Shrub, pregnant pauses though there were enough, didn't come off as a total retard. For once.
What it came down to for me was the closing arguments, and I'm all about Kerry's plan that we need to start working diplomacy back into our shtick. I mean, a person (or nation) really can be resolute and non-mambypamby in his or her beliefs without bullying others; I've seen it happen, even. I almost feel sorry for Kerry, though, because if he gets elected? Look at the shit he has to clean up. Not that I don't think he can do the job, but it blows to be put in the position in the first place.
<
From the DoD's Web site:
I spent the majority of my evening doing some back-up for JB [UPDATE: John Grant Emeigh, aka JG EEEEEE-MAAAAAAY in Broad lingo, was the lead for the story, and JB and I were backup, just giving props where they're due] on this, mostly trying to come up with a yearbook picture of the kid. When I located the last one on file of him, I said to the guy from whom I got it, "Wow, he looks so young." And the guy says, "These are young kids fighting over there." And I was like, "Yup. Sigh." I mean, what the hell do you say, right?
Mother always tells the story of when she was a kid during WWII, Navy officers came to her parents' home to let them know that Mother's oldest brother was taken captive (by the Japanese, if I'm not mistaken). She was about 10 or 11 when it happened, and my uncle came out of it all right and everything. But when my folks went to adopt, Mother swore on all that was right and holy to her that she would NOT adopt a boy, because she didn't want to have those soldiers coming to her door like that.
My sincere sympathies to the Stahl/Nightingale families. God bless you for giving us your son, and God bless him for trying to keep our freedom.
<
Cat Stevens is trying to get into the country! To spread his message of hatefully bad ...
70s schmaltz music.
For the love of God, people.
<
Good Lord, have y'all had those new spicy chicken concotions at Taco Bell!?!?! It's worse than the Club Chalupa I was craving back in March, but hopefully more healthy. I think I need to go have one (or six) right this second. (Speaking of which, did y'all catch Mad TV Saturday night? They replayed my all-time favorite skit with the Mexican in the Taco Bell. "You want my life story? I got herpes. The. End." Genius!)
While I'm out, go get your political on over at Mac's; she's covering the Campaign issues with about as much nonbias as any human can muster.
<
Watching the wrap-up of the RNC on Fox news (the regular channel, not cable, remember), and you know it's gotta be pretty bad when Republican former Governor Jim Thompson said he won't be voting for Alan Keyes because his views "are not representative of the Republican Party." No, see, Jim, I tend to think they ARE representative of the GOP, and y'all just don't want to admit it. Regardless, like I was telling Mac: Choosing Keyes was a good idea in theory -- the small fact that he isn't even from Illinois notwithstanding -- until he opened his damn mouth. Calling Mary Cheney a freakin' hedonist? If I thought ol' Dicky respected his daughter enough to defend her honor, I'd for one pay good money to see him take the fucker out.
Speaking of good money, the first installment of my free-lance project for one of my former employers came in today, and can I just say "Whoo!" There's some phat coin there. I'll be able to pay off some serious bills AND still get my lovely cabinet from Customs in Miller. Heh.
So yeah, I'm feeling a little better -- finally took care of my pedicure (last one of the season, I reckon, so I put on OPI's "Euro-mazing!", a lovely burnt orange) and at least got fresh litter for the boxes. [SIDENOTE: If y'all are looking for a yummy candle? Go here; the caramel apple and dreamsicle ones are to. DIE. for. Nancy the owner gave me the dreamsicle one to try out (she's a friend of one of our family's best friends, so I'm sure that had a little something to do with it), and it's excellent. I'll get the caramel apple one for winter.] No, off to do some notes for my Sunday biz centerpiece, because tomorrow? Schererville's gonna geeeeeeet it! Neener neener neeeeeeeee-ner. Heh.
<
Apparently, I'm not the only one with copyright issues this week: Getupgrrl over at Chez Miscarriage not only had someone rip off illustrations that she and her readers -- women suffering with infertility, btw -- created, but her puta MADE FUCKING T-SHIRTS OF THEM AND PUT THE SALE LINK TO GRRL'S WEB SITE.
I almost don't even know what to say to that, except that the person must really be feeling the effects of a weak second quarter, because profiting off someone else's heartache without that person's permission? There's a special place in hell for y'all.
<
Has anybody ever, when listening to "Rockin' to Paradise" by Styx, ever gotten the urge to do jazzhands? No, seriously, who the hell's idea was it to EVER Let Dennis DeYoung become part of Styx? He RUINED them, he and all his Broadway reject issues. And don't even get me started about fucking "Mr. Roboto." I heard that the other night on the way home, and God, is that song ass-bad. "I'm KILROY!" What!?!?
<
Thanks to Kaffy, natch, who linked to an article about making money off blog advertising in the Chicago Trib, I wandered over to an old blog I used to read fairly often when I worked downtown and wanted to pretend I was fancy and well-read, especially after 9/11: The Talking Points Memo by Josh Micah Marshall. (Interesting sidenote: On our way home from Vegas in June 2001, I sat next to Josh's half brother, Steve (I think was his name) on the plane. Nice guy. He and his woman were in Vegas to catch Cirque du Soleil's O. But I digress.) So I'm scanning through to try to remember whether Josh was liberal or conservative when I came across this, which got me to read this about how Pakistan is getting the screws turned on it to produce bin Laden by -- wait for it -- at LEAST the Democratic Convention, and if not then, before the elections, but DEFINITELY before DURING the Democratic Convention at the end of the month.
I, too, echo the authors' sentiments: If going after Al Qaeda in Pakistan is a good idea, it's been a good idea for at least the last two years. So what's with the sense of urgency NOW, Shrub? Shoot me an e-mail and lemeno, homey.
<
I had to do a double take when reading this:
Lookit. (And if you can't get to it, I'll mail it to you.)
As we say over here in Chez Broad, "Aw, heeeeeeeelllll no."
<
I'll get to the hostage situation later, but first I have to talk about the debacle that was Jack Ryan on GMA this morning. So he gets on with Diane Sawyer, and they talk about how he would fight for the right to keep certain things private, like, say, divorce records and stuff. As y'all know, he was dismissed from his bid for U.S. Senator from Illinois because his previously sealed divorce records said, upon unsealing, that Jack took his former wife, Jeri, three different times to sex clubs and expected her to join him in public inflagrante delicto, or worse. You know how he billed this? He called it the "sexless sex scandal," which is true enough, but then -- THEN! -- you know what he said!?!? "She was my wife," as if the fact that they were married automatically made it Ok for him to take her to places she clearly did NOT want to go to do things she clearly did NOT want to do.
Now, having never been married, maybe the married folk can speak to this, but I would think that if your spouse objects to a certain practice once, taking him or her to the place that he or she objects to is not going to change his or her mind -- I mean, unless y'all have talked about it prior and agreed that that's what both of you want, of course, but I'm guessing that since the Ryans ended up divorcing, there wasn't a whole lot of talking going on. But I was like, "What a cro-mag."
As for his posture that "if we keep digging into the lives of people the way we do, then no good candidates will want to run for office," he's probably right. But here's my question: Was he of the same opinion when everybody went all apeshit over Clinton and the blowjob? Because remember, if this is the standard that you set, it applies to EVERY. ONE.
<
Going through the ATM this morning, ahead of me was this woman. Not an unattractive woman by any means, mind you, but she would've been a lot more attractive if the following had been true:
1) That her perfectly abundant, perfectly permed hair wasn't held back by a banana clip, circa 1987;
2) that she wasn't wearing a hot pink shirt with sparkles and things hanging off under the arms, circa 1992;
3) That she wasn't driving in a late-model, black Trans-Am with the license plate "4Mikey" (no offense, mikey), circa 1985, and -- AND
4) that she wasn't wearing HEAD GEAR, circa 6th grade.
Aren't there laws about that stuff? I mean, wow.
<
Al Qaeda strikes again. [Courtesy of USA Today]
<
I horked this from Mac, formerly of Go Fish and now at Pesky Apostrophe, because it's damn funny, and I forgot how much I like the term "crackhead." So, if you see me calling everything and everyone "crackhead," it's her fault.
Wait ... what!??<
-- My little friend Kate on one of her fiance's idiot friends, June 17, 2004
<
Here's why I shouldn't post stuff at 2 a.m.: That thing on the draft? Included links to the Home School Legal Defense Fund, which in and of itself is fine, but if you go to its Web site, the group clearly opposes same-sex marriage, and I ain't down with that. So, I've erased that entry and instead found the guvmint link to this draft thing: Lookit
At first glance, I thought this might not be such a bad idea -- I mean, giving students an option, especially if they don't have any plans after high school can't be wrong, right? But you know what? No matter how many alleged terrorist attacks there are on the United States, WE'RE STILL NOT ISRAEL. Canada and Mexico aren't gunning for us at every turn because we're American, so this is pointless.
<
One of my favorite blogs, for those who don't pay attention to my blogroll, is Gawker, the gold standard for snark on all things NYC media-related (written by the deliciously wonderful Choire, who's also on my roll). And one of the topics he was skewering yesterday was this advertising wonk chick who was at a big major network dealie and got soooooooooo shitcanned that she shit HERSELF on a couch. In front of all these major industry players. Well, one of her college acquaintances got wind of it, told some friends by e-mail, and they told some friends, and you know the rest, and it ends up on Gawker for the whole world to see. So now in retaliation, the woman and/or her friends called acquaintance's place of employ and ratted him out for using corporate e-mail for personal gossip.
To that I say, "Wow, bitter much!?!?!"
[UPDATE: There IS a God! Here's how it played out in the end, courtesy of Defamer: Lookit]
<
Oddly enough, I don't blame the soldiers for this, because that's how you're taught in the military. And I understand that people can get all kinds of disguises and maybe even pull them off seamlessly. But ... damn. The bureau chief confirmed that these guys were legit.
[Courtesy of E&P, via Romenesko]
<
From Kaffy, with the note: "This is the kind of thing that makes me physically ill." (See here.)
Six more months, people. Six more months, and maybe we'll get our country back.
<
So, for my inaugural bike ride on the Raleigh SC30? Twice around the block. Allegedly, once around is supposed to be a mile, according to Greta, who used to walk it, but I'm kinda thinking not. It took me about 15 minutes to go around twice, with the wind whipping at me from the south. Yeah, so, I'm a little out of shape. At least I don't look like a total retard riding, although I must admit, after 14 years of not being on a bike, it was a little dicey in spots.
I covered a high school prom's pre-festivities Friday night. Discovery? I'm turning into Mother, too.
<
Had two good assignments today, one a violin shop owner and the second a Nobel Laureate in economics at my alma mater. I've never been one for economics -- a gander at my bank account will back that up -- but this guy, Joe Stiglitz, a Gary native and now a professor at Columbia, put a whole bunch of things in perspective. For example:
-- Our leader Shrub took a 2 percent budget surplus and turned it into a 5 percent deficit in three years.
-- We can piss and moan all we want about outsourcing, but we've been putting the screw to other countries far longer -- unintentionally, sure, but screws are screws. See, according to Stiglitz, the United States pays about 25,000 cotton farmers between $3 billion and $4 billion in subsidies each year for them to produce buttloads of the stuff. When output goes up, demand goes down, naturally, so what happens to the 10 million cotton farmers in Africa and all over the world whose only crop is cotton? They get fucked. But the kick in the ass? When someone went to complain to our trade representative about the inequity, his answer was, "Let them do something else." You know, because it's easy to just pick up and do that when you live in SAND. Idiot.
-- Competition has become global, and there's no monopoly on knowledge or skills, y'all. The best one can do is keep learning and making it better for yourself.
Don't know about you, but I'm still kinda pissed about the cotton subsidies. Once again, I'm in the wrong business.
<
Lessee ... her father started the Peace Corps, her mother's heavily involved in the Special Olympics (or at least she used to be), and her uncles are two of the greatest presidents that might've been. With all that incredible political clout before her, what does Mah-riiiiia Schwarzenegger come up with as a contribution to California politics? Fucking charm bracelets, for which the proceeds will go to provide sumptuous meals and lodging for foreign dignitaries who come to Cali.Cost for one of these baubles? $18-$170 a pop.
Peace Corps ... jewelry line (as if weighing on an imaginary scale). Peace Corps ... jewelry line ... Hmph.
<
Two travesties for the price of one. First, a letter on Romenesko today:
Wow. What a rotten situation for both the family and the reporter. That brings up all kinds of ethical issues. What do others think? Should the reporter have told the Berg family or not?
A reporter is supposed to "minimize harm." Telling the Berg family about the video was obviously harmful. But the reporter isn't responsible for the video. And what could the reporter do at that point, anyway? Walk away? Say "uh, nevermind." Plus, this reporter was among the first of a horde to descend on the Berg family today anyway. ...
Not that it's cool or justified in any way, but honestly, is anybody REALLY surprised that al Qaeda's pissed off by our frat-boy antics? No, seriously.
Anyway, the second bit of grief comes by way of Kaffy, who shared this with me the other night. I must admit, I'm kinda surprised that I haven't seen it pop up anywhere yet, unless it has and I'm just dim. Anyway ... Wait ... what!??
<
I've been pondering this whole military abusing Iraqi POW thing for a few days now, and there's only one thing that sticks out in my mind: It figures that something like this would happen when we have the world's biggest frat boy in charge of the White House. I mean, when it comes to torture and stuff, we're total retards.
Think about it: Every other country has dished heinous behavior to its POWs and what do WE do? "Huhuhuuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh, let's make them give each other BJs. Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhhuhuh." Ok, Beavis. And can you imagine Shrub chastising these idiots? "Fuck, man! What did I tell you about taking pictures in the prison!?! 'What happens in the prison, STAYS in the prison.' You guys suck!"
<
Catching up on my reading today, and I noticed that Joelle's cute boyfriend, mikey over at electric bugaloo, has added me to his blogging goodness. Blogging goodness!?!? Hee. Yeah, so no, I'm still not over the whole getting excited when someone links me thing.
Especially when it allows me to segue into a topic I've not yet covered over here. In this case? The HIV scare in the porn industry.
<
To celebrate my 100th entry in the blogosphere, I give you a love note I received today. From overseas.
Wait ... what!??<
Jamiel Terry recently penned an essay in OUT magazine about growing up gay in the house of Randall Terry, the notorious anti-abortion zealot who got himself kicked out of that racket as part of a court settlement and who's now taken up gay-bashing as his hobby. This is the response he posted about his son's essay.
Lemme get this straight: Here's a guy who took this boy into his own home, and now that said son -- the one HE TOOK IN AS HIS OWN -- has made a really painful revelation, he's more worried about what people think of HIM!?!!?!?
You know what, people? If you can't think beyond yourself and how you look to the world, do the rest of us a favor and do NOT procreate; do NOT adopt kids; and do NOT look up the kids you gave up for adoption. I know you like to think of yourselves as the Great White Hope, but you're NOT doing us any favors. No, seriously. Our lives are fine without your self-centered bullshit. Keep your delusions to yourself, please. Thanks.
Fer fuck's sake.
[Link courtesy of Wonkette]
<
Listening to the radio on my way to my first assignment this morning, what do I hear but that our federal guvmint spent $5 million per nuclear warhead in order to get them EPA compliant.
Nope, there's no punchline.
<
It's either fest or famine in the free-lance biz: Today and Friday? No stories scheduled. Tomorrow and maybe Saturday? Four apiece. It almost makes me hope that nothing comes up Friday so I can get caught up on stuff. Plus, I'm sure I'll be hearing from Perry's publicist again within the next couple of days, so I want to have plenty of time to devote to him.
So anyway, while I'm putting off typing in my notes from the interview I just finished (as well as trying to get out of heavy duty work over at Greta's ... oops, I wasn't supposed to say that out loud, was I?), let's talk about porn, or the apparent lack thereof our esteemed Attorney General John Asscroft would like to see. (Discussion courtesy of mikey.)
<
Since everyone seems to be nostalgically waxing about the death of Kurt Cobain today, I might as well throw my 2 cents in.
Lessee, April 5, 1994? I was a waitress at Olive Garden in Merrillville, slinging meatballs to accumulate enough scratch to make to it Houston for the man I luuuurrrrved's college graduation. I vaguely remember being in the kitchen near the cashier's booth when I heard on the radio that it was confirmed.
The end.
<
Ok, I was going to start out by telling y'all about the boner Kaffy's cat pops everytime he gets on his groove, but I'm going to save it for later, because first, I have to tell you about the dream I just had before I got up, plus I can't NOT comment on the headline with which I was greeted upon logging on.
First, the headline (see here). Mmm-hmmmmm, because ordering your girlfriend to take off her clothes and having a dude she just met go down on her, then SHOOTING THEM BOTH, isn't cruel and unusual. Riiiiiiight. (Background info courtesy of here.)
My thoughts? I think that if you do something you're not supposed to, the punishment should fit the crime, hot-poker-up-the-ass for hot-poker-up-the-ass. So, if you murder someone, especially more than once like this idiot did, I don't think it's right that he should be allowed to choose the way he gets to die. All he's doing is wasting our money, getting too much press time, and, I suspect, trying to get some poor schmuck to write his life story. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think he's entitled to that.
<
I must've said this 10 times today, but I'll say it again:
Adrian Zakula is the only person I know that could take a freedom-of-expression controversy and turn it into a beer party.
I'm using his name now because I reported on the story, plus he has absolutely no shame. Not that he needed it ... this time (!), but it's safe to say that our friend Zook, in true Zook fashion, is thoroughly enjoying his time in the spotlight and was goodly plowed by 2 p.m. (Yeah, because I wasn't of course. Heh. And boy, did that feel good! A sunny, 60-degree day pounding a few among friends after I've done my reporting? You betcha. I can't tell you the last time I was out among the living doing stuff other than working or shopping with Greta. Methinks I need to do more of that more often.)
Really, though, I don't know that I wouldn't have done the same thing -- no, scratch that; I know I would've. See, way back in the day, I had a bit of controversy myself with the whole freedom of speech/expression issue.
<
Most mornings after I wake up, pee and feed the boys, I start my day by jumping online and checking to see if any of my stories made it to the paper's Web site, and then I check the competition to see if whoever was there from them wrote the story better than I did. So, I'm perusing the competition today and I see the headline "Controversial sign in Hobart to be removed." And immediately I froze, because I just knew that somehow, someway, one of the one guy's idiot friends was involved. Sure enough, I wasn't wrong.
Wait ... what!??<
Apparently the world only has room in its heart for one deadly tsunami affecting a third world country. That, and we've been too busy talking shit, literally.