Why am I still blogging?

I was going to do a post about the death of Ken Ober, host of MTV's Remote Control when I realized that Beckeye almost certainly already had something up. The amount of postworthy ideas in my brain have dwindled. We have all been sucking the collective well dry.

I can also blame social networking for leeching away an audience and the demise of blogging luminaries, but the truth is bloggers burn out without help from other internet time sucks and no one was reading me anyway (just a bunch of hits from dudes trying to score pics of Mariska Hargitay in some state of undress.) And I ain't here to be the next Perez Hilton or Markos Moulitsas (close and personal friend to Grant Miller) anyway. I am just here to vent and let some of the crazy out.

Speaking of the crazy, this picture was on page 2 of my Google image search for "Why am I still blogging?" I like to use Google image searches to answer a lot of questions in my life. The answer to "What should I have for dinner?" is easily solved as BBQ ribs and tater tots. Thanks, Google image search!

You should try it.

"My God, it's full of stars."

Despite whatever they tried the other week that didn't work, NASA has now found water on the moon.

Since I have been lying on my couch sick watching movies for most of the week, I am now more concerned with finding monoliths on the Moon. I am not sure if 27 gallons is actually a significant amount, but a Tycho Magnetic Anomaly would be significant. I am sure Moon Water could be bottled and marketed for a fortune if there weren't enough to split into hydrogen and oxygen rocket fuel components. But how much cooler would an ominous black crystalline harbinger of cosmic events be? If only we still had the Cold War or some homicidal AI to add dramatic tension. But no, just ice.

Thus spake Zoroaster.

Ill at Home

Day 6 of allergy-induced sinus infection. Finished a Z Pack at noon and still feel weak and sore. Made it through work yesterday for big meeting. Sweated through half-day today. Waiting for Red to get home and feed me comfort food.

My tags make no sense.

My doctor says blog comments will aid in my recovery. (BTW I need a new doctor.) Much sleep on couch now.

The Horror, The Horror

Okay, if any of you actually own these, I still like you and you can even explain to me what's so great about them, but I'm kinda horrified by the very existence of the Snuggie. I like blankets a lot, but do I really need a blanket I can wear? A blanket with sleeves? This, to me, just says "cold weather mumu." And while the "family" who models the Snuggie on the infomercial is trim, I imagine that they are primarily ordered by obese Americans. For whom owning a Snuggie, I feel like, just encourages giving up. Take a walk, guys! Play tag with your kids. Spend some time in the garden working up a sweat - don't snuggle down under your Snuggie in front of the TV with your favorite snacks. Perhaps that's unfair of me, but I have a hard time understanding why anyone needs one of these in the first place.

So I was amazed and somewhat dismayed to hear on Morning Edition yesterday that Weezer, a band I like, is selling their new CD, Raditude, in combination with the Snuggie! I mean, you can also get it on Amazon mp3, or as a stand alone CD in regular or deluxe editions, but they have special packages for CD+Snuggie. These are special Snuggies that have the Weezer logo on them. Which is surreal. They have a blue Snuggie for sale with the regular edition; the one that comes with the deluxe edition is zebra print.

Click here to experience the bizarreness for yourself.

Bumper Stickers 2

OK, so I thought of a few more. And since I have not been brimming with creativity lately, this is what is passing as a blog post around here these days. Enjoy:

No, I am not telling you what it means. But this one goes over like gangbusters with the guys down at the marina (at least it would if there actually were any guys, or a marina for that matter.)

Which is only funny when you see it as intended to be used (below.)

And of course I had to do an adaptation of my best-selling tee shirt and personal favorite.

Life Imitates Art

TOBY
They know it was on course traveling at a rate of 15,400 miles
per hour, which it was supposed to. Somewhere during its
descent it was also supposed to release two probes -- each
about the size of a basketball -- firing them deep into the
ground as part of the mission's search for evidence of water
under surface.

JOSH
We think if we hit the ground hard enough, we can make it
to the center of the planet and find water?

TOBY
Yeah.

JOSH
That's not a theory of physics pretty much disproved by Wile E. Coyote?

-The West Wing, "Galileo", 2.8

I'm not that into space (as evidenced by the fact that in my Manhattan days, I once shared -- shared -- a 300 sq ft apartment). EG is the rock and roll astronaut around here. But I have gotten into the habit of listening to NPR's "Morning Edition" on my way to work, and so became aware of this story.

That's pretty much all there is to say about that, but while looking up the dialogue at the top, I stumbled onto a West Wing site that I'd never seen before. First of all, they not only have transcripts of most episodes (complete seasons for the first four years, after which it doesn't matter that much) but they have a search function where you can type in a word or words and it will tell you what episode it's from and then you could click the link and go to the episode and find the specific quote. It took me less than five minutes to find the beginning of this post.

I am, to a large extent, what used to be known (and probably still is in certain circles) as a "Wing nut." I've seen every episode of the seasons Aaron Sorkin wrote at least a half dozen times. I didn't get a converter or whatever for digital TV and haven't had cable in years, so I've actually been watching them again when I don't have anything from Netflix. EG is going to lend me Twin Peaks to mitigate the insanity.

But finding this site shows the Internet at its most reassuring. 'Cause you may think you're obsessed with something and realize that maybe it's a little weird, but here on the glorious interweb, there's always someone weirder than you.

That makes me smile. I feel better now. How about you guys?

Extra-solar Planet: Mustafar

In my continuing coverage of newly discovered extra-solar planets which at least I find interesting, another major coup has come with Corot 7b. This discovery came a few weeks back, but it is not like there are any other bloggers out there scooping me on this. And it isn't as if I am denying my loyal half-dozen readers of snappy comments for water cooler conversations on astrophysics.

Cosmologically speaking the cool thing is that this is the first rocky extra-solar planet found. All previous planets found have been gas giants, but this sucker actually has a surface. Since the whole cockamamie idea is to find another Earth-like planet, this is exciting. However, due to the proximity to its star scientists have deduced that the surface is covered with molten lava. This is further backed by radio telescopes picking up signals of an incredibly schlocky, melodramatic, "NooOOOoooOOOooo!"

Artist's rendition of the so called lava planet below.

WTC on 295

The DC Beltway in my estimation is the second worst highway in America, with top honors going to the LIE (Long Island Expressway.) There is usually heavy traffic on 295 in both directions at any random time of day or night, often crawling at a nerve wracking stop and go pace. There are choke pints at a few key areas that always screw things up (the 270 merge, the Wilson bridge, and the mixing bowl.) It just sucks.

I was running late to work on Tuesday after what was supposed to be an early morning doctor's appointment that ended up holding me past 11:00. There should have been lunch traffic circling, but the lanes were surprisingly clear.

The only thing impeding my progress was a slow moving flat-bed truck with some scrap metal on it, but I was able to get around it easily enough. I was dismayed when I saw flashing lights up ahead. But there were a few more flatbeds before I could see that the lights were on a black SUV, which is a common sight in DC. You usually see a caravan of black cars zooming through lights and screwing up the already abysmal traffic patterns. I will curse whatever overpaid government worker with an inflated ego is at the center of the don't-shoot-me parade. This time it was nothing like that.

As I passed the procession of trucks laden with contorted metal, I noticed that each one had progressively larger American flags displayed on them or attached to the tie-down chains. This quickly reminded me of an e-mail one of my co-workers forwarded to me the other day about the newly commissioned USS New York.

When I realized what I was driving next to I slowed. It took another few seconds before I found myself saying a silent prayer for friends and family, for those still overseas, and for those still seen as enemies. And it took yet a few more seconds for me to realize I have a camera phone and this may be something I wished I had a picture of later.

So here are two of the clearer shots I was able to get of the day the World Trade Center drove past me in Washington, DC. Complete with an escort of Maryland State Troopers, Secret Service vans and a chase truck with a camera crew. I am not sure where they had been or where they were going, but I have no doubt of what those twisted I-beams used to be and what they still represented. For several hours I was able to remember what I felt like in September eight years and two weeks earlier. To say it was sobering falls short, but those are the only words that come to me.

The first person I called was my oldest brother with whom I have a strained relationship. But not only did he lose a close friend that day, but is reliving another tough experience from that year now. I needed to talk to him. And then I called Red at her office who had been in NYC between gigs and catching Urine Town off Broadway back then. I didn't know her in 2001, but I can't imagine what my life would be like now if she had been a few miles south that day.

I wanted to call everyone I know and check on them, if you can remember that feeling. But by the time I made those two calls I had hit my exit and was closing in on the parking lot at work. I was still shaken up and entered the office with an expression like I had just seen a ghost. I didn't think of it like that at the time, but I guess I had just seen about 2,600 ghosts.

If I were going to make bumper stickers...

Netflix search: Ballroom

Background: I bought Red an Arthur Murray gift certificate for her birthday because I am the best boyfriend ever. I have been enjoying the lessons too, for the most part. And not for nothing, but I am moving like Fred Afuckingstaire now.

Because of this we are ready to "graduate" to the next level, which of course requires buying more lessons. So while the studio manager was giving us her pitch, she mentioned a documentary about city kids in ballroom competitions. She couldn't remember the title, but it sounded interesting, so I searched for "ballroom" on Netflix. Of course Strictly Ballroom was the first movie, followed by some instructional videos. I had to capture a screen shot when I scrolled to the bottom of the list. Since it did not come close to the movie I was looking for, I did another search for that documentary about old people singing rock songs, and sure enough it was the first or second recommendation based on that movie.

But now that we have covered the exposition, her it is.
The money shot:


Why I found this incredibly amusing and post-worthy:

How could you ever consider break dancing a form of ballroom?

Even if you did, wouldn't it be like Vol. 87?

Speaking of which, how does Bollywood dancing come up as Vol. 6? Seriously, maybe like Vol. 28. But not even really.

Then there is the big question: When you look at the suggested movies that come up from the break dancing video. LOOK AT THEM. Click on the image to see it larger. How in the hell is there any connection there? Now someone please explain that to me. Do you think someone rented all three of these? How to break dance, how to order wine, and how to make sweet sweet love? Speaking of which, there should be some sort of algorithm that prevents an image of John Cleese being shown next to naked people. I need answers on this. I am losing sleep.

Argyle Chick of the Month

Now That You've All Forgotten I Ever Went to Vermont

First, I was waiting for my friend J. and her roommate to send me these pictures. They did ages ago, but I've been busy. So at last, here are the photos showing my time in the Green Mountain state. Just FYI, the TSA at the Burlington airport is the strictest I've ever seen. Pretty impressive, really.

J. and I went strawberry picking. In the interest of full disclosure, I confess that she picked a larger share than I did of the berries I'm holding. (The farmer gave me grief about it.) They were delicious. I'm quite the strawberry fan.




Pictured here are (L-R) me, J., and her roommate. This was taken at a picnic their program had at Robert Frost's house. Apparently, they now host writers in this house. One will be given it for a while (a year, maybe?) to have peace and quiet and space to write, rent-free. Sounds good to me. It's a lovely locale.

Any trip to Vermont, particularly for someone as into ice cream as I am, must include a trip to the Ben & Jerry's factory. We went, and I'm glad we did, but the one picture I have from there is of the flavor graveyard, and Blogger refuses to upload another pic to this post. Vermont is as green and mountainous as I'd heard, which makes it nice in July. It's peaceful and relaxing. I stayed at a lovely little B&B and generally had a lot of fun on one of the first grown up type vacations I've taken, certainly that I've taken by myself. I don't relish the thought of going there in winter, and I hear tell that the spring thaw brings on what the locals charmingly refer to as "mud season." But I've now been to 47 states (or 45 if we don't count the ones where I've never gotten out of the car), and Vermont is lovely. If relaxation is on your agenda, it gets my vote over beaches any day.

P. S. EG has a thing about Vespas. I took this picture for him.

The Radical Middle

I was arguing with Red tonight about universal health care. Not because I am opposed to it, but because I am opposed to her stance that she is absolutely right. I am actually in favor of the idea. What I am opposed to is how anyone can completely invalidate someone else's viewpoint.

I don't care how wrong they are, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. (As my old man always says, "Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one, but no one wants to hear about yours.") I don't see how public health care will turn America into a Socialist state any more than public education has. But I would never say that anyone who does feel that way is completely wrong or unintelligent. Though quite frankly, I don't see how even Socialism is un-American.

I love that you can be a Socialist in America. I love that you can be a National Socialist in America. Not that I love Neo-Nazis. (I hate Illinois Nazis!) But I love the fact that you can be one. And if you argue that an ideology based on genocide is fundamentally wrong, not many people will deny that you are right. Yet no matter how right you are, you cannot insist that no one should think differently.

Lack of affordable health care options may or may not cause the fall of the American Empire, but there is a good chance that the divisive nature of partisan politics will. I don't care which side of the issue you line up on, but don't drink the Kool-Aid (even if it is a pretty shade of blue.) Stop pointing fingers. Join the Radical Middle!

WASP 18b

Last week I told you about WASP 17 and how it didn't quite meet the standards of the other WASPs. So now they have found WASP 18b, and apparently the pressure for it to live up to high expectations is too much for it. WASP 18b is suicidal.

It is seemingly on a slow course to spiral into its star, and is already close enough to cause plasma tides on the star from its gravitational pull. Though scientists are not able to view WASP 18b directly (and conceptual artists are apparently too lazy to create a new rendering) there are other clues as to why they feel this is a suicidal planet. Here is a list of other data they have collected to back up their calculations:

• WASP 18b has been reading more Sylvia Plath than any well adjusted planet should
  
• The planet no longer hangs out with other planets in its system
• Doesn't see the whole point in regular elliptical orbits any more
• Been drinking a lot lately. A lot.
  
• Quotes Smiths' lyrics far more often than could ever be applicable
  
• Did I mention the drinking? No really. Way too much. We're all concerned.
  
• Keeps asking if you would want any of its moons "if anything ever happened"
• Reckless behavior, like orbiting too close to its Roche limit
• Seriously, drinking way too much. And usually alone
• Lost interest in personal hygiene, if you know what I mean
• Has a complete file of MSDS's for all household chemicals
• Started blogging
  

Astronomers are keeping a close watch on WASP 18b and hoping for the best. But you know how gas giants get at that age.

A Series of Hypothetical Questions

These questions are intended to be completely random and are in no way meant to imply any similarity to any fictitious characters or actual person(s) living or dead. Rather, this is simply offered as a thought-provoking exercise aimed at stimulating potential dialogue. With that in mind, I pose the following questions:


What if there were a girl with eyes that sparkled like jeweled mischief?

What if her embrace were a trap? A giant Chinese finger puzzle made of warm silk and laced with opium so enticing that it becomes the only thing that you desire.

What if the curves of her body made your eyes race? A seductive highway that never ceased to thrill. Tracing the divinely engineered image of those twists and turns would make your heart rev and your stomach soar. The beauty of its danger would melt your brain and lay down a challenge to your mettle. Do you really think you’re man enough to drive that?

What if her smile were like dynamite? Explosive and powerful enough to crack the cold granite of your soul and leave a Crazy Horse pointing toward wild bliss.

What if her heart danced with infectious pleasure for each small joy in life?

What if she told stories that went on forever?

What if she sang all day?

What if she tripped and fell down with great frequency and awkward grace?

What if she told you the same story that went on forever again?

What if you shook your head and rolled your eyes so much that you developed repetitive stress disorder?

What if she cooked pasta sauce that drew a long line into one of the happier parts of your memory and left your taste buds singing Dean Martin songs?

And what if she were also a killer at Trivial Pursuit?

And because of this every time she was around your stoic mask would yield to a boyish or possibly devilish grin.

What if she had a soul that wanted to lift you up to heaven on high? To save you forever in perfect love. To protect you from falling into the folly of your own sins. And held your hand along a secret path to God that only angels and martyred virgin saints are supposed to know about.

What if she knew that your favorite thing to do in New york City is to shop for records in the Village? Even though you yourself had lost that data in a file sent to deep storage, and when pressed could not answer until she reminded.

What if there really were such a girl? And what if she loved you?

Hypothetically.

WILATU #29 - The Smiths

The Top 10 Smiths Songs

10. Girlfriend in a Coma
9. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
8. Never Had No One Ever
7. Sweet and Tender Hooligan
6. Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me
5. How Soon Is Now?
4. Ask
3. Shoplifters of the World Unite
2. Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want
1. Bigmouth Strikes Again

The Smiths are dead. Long live the Smiths.

Sketchy

WASP 17

British scientists have recently discovered a new extra-solar planet known as WASP 17. Most extra-solar planets that have been found to date are large, they are easier to find. WASP 17 is no exception. At twice the size of Jupiter it is now the largest planet known. But at half the mass of Jupiter, it is a cosmic fluff ball. But what really has astronomers knickers all in a twist is that it is the first planet ever discovered with a retrograde orbit. In other words, it rotates backwards. Needless to say WASPs 1 through 16 have not been very receptive to this newcomer.

WASP 17 has been omitted from astronomical registries and is routinely excluded from planetary alignments, though always cited as being for logistical reasons. Despite being smaller, some nearby planets attempt to eclipse WASP 17 to obscure it from being clearly viewed; theoretically to keep up the appearance of a "normal" solar system. Though it is not known whether WASP 17 has any moons, it is generally assumed that it has a ton of them. You know how those retrograde planets are with moons! They are usually dragging 20 or 30 around with them all the time. It is like they have no gravitational self-control.

A lot of speculation has already begun about a WASP 18. There is great hope being pinned on it to bring some respectability back to the WASP program. Above is an artist's rendering of WASP 17. Other WASP images shown below:

The Critics Are Wrong on This One

EG was in the middle of reading this book when we met. He lent it to me when he was done. We both dug it. While the characters aren't just like us, there are similarities. The girl is a redhead. The guy is incredibly cool. He doesn't understand how she can like the Eagles. (The band, not the football team.) They're into the Violent Femmes. They live in Chicago, EG's old stomping ground and where he took me on vacation the first summer we were together. (At which time I commented, "Don't think I don't know why you're bringing me here in August!") He's a bit older than she is and has led a bit less sheltered an existence.

I reread the book shortly after we got back together and was totally psyched to hear about the movie. I had high hopes based on the casting and was very disappointed on Friday to read bad reviews in both the New York Times and the LA Times. But we were in a packed theatre Saturday night anyway, admittedly with rather lower expectations than before the reviews came out.

I really like the way the movie is structured. The reviews make it sound like it jumps around in time a lot, but the chronology is actually quite straightforward. (Which makes it a bit different from the book, actually.) The film has also been pared down a bit from the novel. Almost everything that doesn't relate to the love story was left out, with the result that the length and pacing feel just right.

Also - I cried. This may not seem like a big deal, because girls do and we've mentioned me crying at a movie once before in this space, but there was a time, not long ago, when this was quite a rare occurrence and I'm still not one of those women who cries at everything. It was sweet, it was touching, it featured lots of naked Eric Bana...what's not to like? And the cinematography is beautiful. That's one things the critics got right. The book is better, so if you're a reader and you happen not to have caught this one, it's worth picking up. But it's a good movie and a damn good date movie, if your date means anything to you anyway. Critics be damned. Red gives it two thumbs up.

Big Hoop Earring Experiment

#4 Rihanna (control group)

Voice of an angel.

Voice of reason?