It’s been two years since we’ve had any Revolver Fan Club news and the infamous “Walter is dead” rumors. Word now comes that your favorite band has officially declared that they will not sue Velvet Revolver, after all.
The best thing about Best of Blog (BoB) Awards 2004 is its name. They named them after the “spammer who clutters our blogs with advertisements for Viagra and Texas Hold-Em.” I love that.
The worst thing is how sad it must be to have been ignored since asking for nominations last December! (Hey, I’m going for the snarkiest blog award.)
Still not doing badly for a football hatah. The record is 119-73 (I think). Anyway, here are this week’s predictions. As usual, they are based on hours and hours of study and deep research. Well, something’s deep around here anyway…
Here’s a little ditty by Lyle Lovett that a certain Busy Mom kept bugging me to do. And considering she’s the only one that actually came up with a specific song for me to record, lo those many months ago when I asked for suggestions, I finally gave in and did it.
It’s not really like the original. Or the Jimmy Buffett version. But Busy Mom likes it. And Mrs. Rasreth likes it. And Whiny likes it. So, the rest of you can…buy a boat.
(always right click and save, dudes and dudettes)
Is it just me, or is the reward at the end of crawling out of your nice, warm bed, strapping yourself into a vehicle that costs you an ever-increasing sum of money to operate and fighting your way through insane traffic armed with only a lukewarm caffeinated beverage and Public Radio (i.e., making it to work semi-alive) not worth it?
At least there was a cool story on Neil Innes today. I guess that’s something.
While I have eschewed much geekery in the vain attempt to convince you that I am really a rock star (and, thus, somewhat cool), there are things that make my nerdy little heart go thumpety-thump-thump (or pitter-patter pitter-patter, depending on the amount of caffeine I’ve ingested). Identity Commons is one of them.
After reading this article by Doc Searls, I have seen the light at the end of the spam tunnel, and yea, verily, it is good.
Here’s a startling revelation… Scientists have proven that if you don’t write in your blog every day (except to post links to your bad ass pop hits), people will stop bothering to read the damn thing! Well, 9-out-of-10 scientists. That stupid 10th one is a stalker who’ll keep coming back and clicking on the same old post over and over. It’s sad, really. I don’t think she got enough attention when she was a little scientist. She was all like, “Mummy. Daddy. Perchance, might I have a scientist kit for Christmas?” And they just ignored the poor, wee tyke! They came home from boozing it up at their company Christmas party, and the mother got right in her little face and with boozy breath growled, “Go ta bed ya liddle shyntst.” Meanwhile, Daddy just stumbled into the living room and passed out in a pool of his own vomit. So, I forgive Scientist 10 for her lack of objectivity in this study. In fact, it makes me love her all the more. Scientist 10 is my favorite of them all. There. I said it.
So, anyway, I was hanging out at church yesterday (as is my wont), and I found myself in a conversation with a couple of Pepperkat’s friends (two that regularly follow her on Sunday, partly because they’re bored and partly because they idolize my daughter and her ultra-coolness). We were standing near the snack table, when one of them said her teacher told her she was going to hell. Being the adult and being in church, I took this opportunity to turn the conversation into a religious lesson. It went something thusly:
ASHLEY: She said I was going to hell.
ME: What??? No handbasket?
ASHLEY: No!
ME: That is bad. That’s about the worst way to go to hell, you know.
KORY: Maybe they’ll have gift baskets when she gets there!
ME: Well, they are trying to improve their image.
ASHLEY: So, I can go to hell and get a gift basket?
KORY: With muffins!
ME: YES! Things don’t look so bad when you have muffins.
ASHLEY: Really?
ME: Yes. Except for you. You’re so bad. No muffins for you!
(Later on, I told her she was still going to hell, but she could have a muffin. It seemed to lift her spirits.)
The conversation then turned to a debate on whether Hitler was so evil because he didn’t have any muffins or because he really wanted to go to hell and get the gift basket (and, thus, muffins). I call this Godwin’s Muffin Law.
I love teaching religion to the young folk. I’m thinking maybe I should become a minister when I grow up.
I told this story to Basstardo in a series of three-word sentences on IM last night. Her response: “I don’t like muffins.” Further proof of my theory that only the good get muffins.
