I Hate November

I hate November. Everything seems so off to me, and that's just not right. I cannot read an entire book, I refuse to feed or clean my house and family, I am not amused with red leaves. Late fall in Oklahoma is also dry, windy, and surprisingly bleak. I'm just going to have to be silly for a little bit, if only to alleviate my fucking ennui.
1. Laughing Babies. Give me the baby!
Baby coveting aside, this little dude is totally going to grow to be the guy at the party who laughs at all of your jokes. I love that guy.
2. Mozart's Concerto #22. The happiest song I've ever heard.
3. Summer Nights. What did you do this summer, Sandy? Shoo Ba Ba Bop!
4. The Dali Lama. This speech is called the Nobel Lecture.

The realisation that we are all basically the same human beings, who seek happiness and try to avoid suffering, is very helpful in developing a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood; a warm feeling of love and compassion for others. This, in turn, is essential if we are to survive in this ever shrinking world we live in. For if we each selfishly pursue only what we believe to be in our own interest, without caring about the needs of others, we not only may end up harming others but also ourselves. This fact has become very clear during the course of this century. We know that to wage a nuclear war today, for example, would be a form of suicide; or that by polluting the air or the oceans, in order to achieve some short-term benefit, we are destroying the very basis for our survival. As interdependents, therefore, we have no other choice than to develop what I call a sense of universal responsibility.

Today, we are truly a global family.

5 The I Has Series. This picture tickles my funny bone. Don't judge!

Real Being the Operative Word

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I love the South. They put butter into all of their foods. My accent(s) doesn't annoy people and they use "y'all" as much as I do and you can say "hey" instead of "hi". Some pretty good literature came from those parts too. I can say in all honesty that Atlanta is one mega city I can comfortably live in (see above). So when the good people at Bravo decided to take their Real Housewives series down to the ATL I was very pleased. Here is a clip of the emerging reality star Nene drunkenly humiliating a friend set to song in what seems to be a stretched Hummer:

One word: magic. These Peachtree bitches truly reflect the lifestyle of the Southern Queen in a way I never could but secretly aspire to. The equation is so simple: lots of make up, wigs, and sugar daddies. An IQ hovering around 80 is preferable, but the discerning gentlemen would consider upwards to 85. Sadly, I am mismatch for this criteria but wait! There is a thriving Hippie community in Atlanta, the upwardly-mobile Yuppies, the music/film/theater hipsters, the aging old school rednecks, the Chablis-n-Commute businessmen, and the all pervasive, all encompassing African American culture. Also, a really shitty but really large airport. Oh, Atlanta. I hear you callin.

Brave New World

Last night America voted in her first African-American president. As I watched the booing and hissing crowd at McCains resignation speech, and then the ecstatic and weeping melee at Grant Park, I tried to feel something more than patience and relief. It seemed as though everyone else's emotions were riding very high; espousing alternatively doom or glory, defeat or victory one's tongue was either Blue or Red, Right or Wrong. I said nothing. I don't care that he is black. I don't care that he doesn't have any military service. I don't care that he is young. What I care about is myself, my family, and my environment and in those regards, Obama has won a very difficult position for the next four years. If history repeats itself Obama will be successful. He seems to be a positive and motivating agent of change. If he can bridge the gulf between parties or race or age he is a miracle man. But easy does it, America. The last streamer has fallen and the signs are coming down and now it's time to enact that word change. Slowly.
I am fortunate, however, to live through such events. It is good to see people glad to call themselves American again and good to once again be welcomed by the rest of the world.

Oh God No

They are making a sequel to Boondock Saints. Boondock Saints, or BS, is a terrible movie. It's pure shit. Somehow people have fallen in love with it, and for the life of me I can't tell why. OK, William Defoe is really funny, but he wasn't supposed to be. The Saints themselves are not marching in, they're stupid and violent. But for God's sake do not get into a conversation with anyone at anytime about this film because they will take you down. They will riddle you with quotes and poses as though it's source is the BIBLE. And now there is a new one. Below, my favorite scene from BS, a scene in which I almost choked on my Dr. Pepper out of pure astonishment. Fire fight! Fire fight! Fire fight!


Around 1:15 William, after conducting his imaginary bullet-ridden maelstorm, randomly shoots his own gun in the air. This is a great idea. I'm pretending to conduct unicorns and rainbows in concerto with Hello Kitty; where's my 9mm?

On a completely different note-do not wear media outlet garments in public. This attracts the crazies in a startling way. Of course, it is hard to deny the power of their yarn beanies and complete lack of sense. Mike, you are too nice. I loved the "type of sand" line.