Good Bits And Saved By My Good Sense
Thank whatever Powers That Be that Arnold Schwarzenegger cannot run for president of the United States. If he had his way, though, he would. shudder
Read "Guestbook..." by Jay Wexler at McSweeney's. It's a great funny.
Nigeria has boycotted mass vaccinations for the rising polio virus due to paranoia about being given AIDS and being made sterile by the innoculations.
I am going to start off with a few good bits I found in other blogs today, because I think they're choice:
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.
- from "Work Without Hope" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1825.
"'Yes, but books can go to the poor man's house. Not everyone can afford a computer to go on the Internet'..."
- from imonk, in response to the publishing of their spiritual texts as e-books and audio books.
The biggest pig in the world just died in China from lack of exercise.
Violence is threatening to "spiral out of control" in the south of Thailand, and so they are shutting down Islamic schools in the area, which they see as a "breeding ground for Islamic militants".
Finally, we may get somewhere more sane on the issue of decriminalizing pot in Canada. It's just a plant after all, and not such a bad one at that.
Holy, am I ever feeling well-adjusted over the last couple of days. It is almost unbelievable after weathering the darkest heart of winter. I was even at a point before this in which I found myself starting to write bad poetry again. Not the kind of five-minute-bad-poetry-for-fun that I have occasionally annoyed you with on this site, but the kind of overly emotional and self-interested tripe that tries to pass itself off as deep when I am at my most vulnerable. Really quite horrific. I am so glad that that phase crept in and then left without too much noise, drama, or time consumed. I almost decided to post one of the sickly bits of poetry here just to prove the severity of my recent condition, but you will thank me for not exposing you to images of my barren womb or some fancy description of the sludge that was my soul. I decided to save both you and I the embarrassment and the aggravation. There is something to be learned, at least by me, from this last episode of depression: do not, and I repeat, do not indulge in too much poetry by the late Sylvia Plath while in the midst of your own emotional wreckage and then decide that you should try your hand at intelligent poetics. Just don’t. I am still feeling the guilt of having sacrificed the lives of a tree or two scrawling such shit over my journal pages.
A mobile phone company, Orange, is unveiling plans to offer customers the ability to file video blogs.
This story about Australian MPs' inquiry into the body image issues of their youth is only really interesting because there is a picture of a healthy young woman who is stated to have recovered from her illness. I find the idea of full recovery suspect and wonder what drugs they've got her on whose side effects are mimicking recovery.
These sheets are great if you and your partner have a difficult time remembering which side of the bed is whose.
This is a link to an article criticizing the obscene decadence of Oprah's 50th birthday party. I had to. Is it possible to become so wealthy that you can transcend your own greed and come out the other side pink and ignorant as a baby? What really gets to me, as it has in the past with some of the wealthier people I have known, is the sense that these people feel that this wealth is somehow a deserved position.
And for your further listening enjoyment, I have added resonance 104.4 fm to my audio links. In their words, they are "... London's first radio art station, brought to you by [the] London Musicians' Collective."