Part of me actually believes that Lil' Jon indeed could run for office. I get the impression that he'll get bored with the crunk thing soon enough. While on the campaign trail he could then release the Krunk Konspiracy (full flashback here). And if he loses, a parody of "24," with himself in the David Palmer role, would be a nice move. Not sure who would play Jack Bauer. Paul Mooney, maybe? (And I haven't seen all the season-one episodes yet via Netflix, so don't go spoilin' anything.)
Over my 10 years in the D.C. area, I've never been to the 17th Street high-heel race, a.k.a. the drag race. Tonight's best costumes:
The best use of a wheelchair:
And the frontrunner, from our vantage point:
Dunno if that dude won or not. In any case, the big news of the night is that my Sheena now has a crush on Adrian Fenty, who was among the pols strolling the race route before the starting gun. Carol Schwartz was out there, too, smooching queens.
The NYT mag's cover story about Bush and "certainty" relates back to a prior team-effort Cesspool joint about the religious-wacko factor. I got one thing to say about this blessed-by-God-to-lead business: Pedophile priests are ordained by God, too, but they still make big, oogy mistakes. Maybe similar logic has led Pat Robertson to lowball his assessments of the commander-in-chief lately:
I just said, I think God's blessing him, and I think it's one of those things that, even if he stumbles and messes up and he's had his share of goofs and gaffes I just think God's blessing is on him. And you remember, I think the Chinese used to say, you know, it's the blessing of heaven on the emperor. And I think the blessing of heaven is on Bush. It's just the way it is.
All of this reminds me of those pregame prayers we used to say when I played football for a dinky Catholic high school. This thought always entered my heathen head: So, like, if we're the Jesus-approved unit, then why the hell aren't we kicking ass and performing flawlessly every game? And if we're playing another Catholic high school, and we lose, does it mean that God WANTS us to lose? If so, maybe there is glory in losing? Or are we being ridiculously and/or sinfully proud to assume that God would even care about us winning? The logical extension of my pregame thoughts: If God has a hand in the competition, then indeed it IS possible to underperform in the name of the Lord. If you're devout and/or clueless, the trick to maintaining sanity is to ignore the possibility that somebody else who can WIN THE GAME or DO THE JOB might have the Big Guy's blessing, too. It makes no sense for football teams (and sanctimonious party operatives ... and religious big shots) to be honest about the hard data before assuming God might be on their side. This is mortal combat, and the blessed aren't supposed to be wrong.
But if that be religion, leave me out. Such reflection will very quickly turn a young man into an agnostic, with atheism beckoning on a horizon nearby.
I wonder if Karl Rove ever thinks about Bush as a potentially Lord-honoring loser. Nah, in his mind, doubt can be eliminated with shrewd, Lord-approved tactics. One last question: If Kerry wins, will Bush pray harder for the future of the country, or take a break from his personal relationship with Jesus?
I recently subscribed to Bruce Schneier's Crypto-Gram, and it's pretty good stuff. In an explanation of secrecy vs. security, he makes this point:
Just look at who supports secrecy. Software vendors such as Microsoft want very much to keep vulnerability information secret. The Department of Homeland Security's recommendations were loudly echoed by the phone companies. It's the interests of these companies that are served by secrecy, not the interests of consumers, citizens, or society.
More good stuff:
Recent studies have shown that most water, power, gas, telephone, data, transportation, and distribution systems are scale-free networks. This means they always have highly connected hubs. Attackers know this intuitively and go after the hubs. Defenders are beginning to learn how to harden the hubs and provide redundancy among them. Trying to keep it a secret that a network has hubs is futile. Better to identify and protect them.
Same could be said about hiding a porn stash from y'alls moms.
Did anybody else notice that last night, when Pedro Martinez threw a brushback pitch at Hideki Matsui, the camera crew for Fox Sports immediately focused on an anonymous grinning Asian woman in the crowd? She was wearing a Sox cap and clapping her hands. The Fox producers cut back to the game for a second, and then came right back to her. Insert joke here.
A sign of just how big the Sox/Yanks rivalry is: Last night I turned off the game around 9:15 to go see Aloha and Juez at the Black Cat. The show hadn't started yet, so I grabbed a beer at the bar. The place has no televisions, and its hipster vibe is impenetrably thick, to the point that sports culture only infects it via the vintage soccer-camp T-shirts of the regulars. But some things are bigger than hipsterdom: The bartender had a tiny, black & white portable TV propped up on an empty keg, and he was carefully watching the game in-between fixing drinks. An hour later, the game was still on.
1. Me on Mos Def.
2. I recently made the switch from Outlook Express 6 on the PC to Eudora 6.1 on the Mac. No sweat there, but I'm a little perplexed by a couple of things in Eudora: First, how do I get my inbox to be reverse-chronological, with the most recent message at the TOP? My preliminary probings of the Preferences, as well as a couple of online searches, have proved fruitless. Second, how do I turn off the annoying nanny feature that says "your message might be offensive" every time I type "shit" in an e-mail?
It costs $15 to enter the haiku contest on the "Def Poetry Jam" site. That's OK, though. I work outside the system, I subjugate the system. Look, I can instantaneously replicate the loud, overdone tone of the show:
Poetry sounds wack to me
I am poetry
E! Online, that paragon of journalism, acts like this is out of the ordinary for the average human:
Upon her arrival, Stewart, or federal inmate 55170-054 as she'll be known for the months ahead, was subjected to a strip search and a standard "squat and cough" to make sure that she was not sneaking any contraband items into the facility, a prison spokeswoman said.Where I come from, a variation of the "squat and cough" is a daily occurrence, usually after the French Roast kicks in.
For alternate laffs, I offer the following 3rd Bass lyric: I heard your hooker/She likes to do knee bends....
The Finn is much better than I am when it comes to workplace-shitter yarns, but with all due respect, I offer one of my own. Two weeks ago I had a huge, red, aching zit on the side of my nose. Of all the mortal tactics I employed to weaken its throb, I found that it actually helped to take two aspirin. But not being satisfied with merely swallowing analgesics, I got the idea to put some sort of pain-numbing substance on it. I don't carry first-aid cream with me, so I simply grabbed an aspirin and strutted to the bathroom, with the intention of crushing part of it and rubbing it into the skin. (This does work, trust me. Especially on really nasty mosquito bites.)
So I'm pressed up against the mirror, quietly grinding white stuff onto my nose, with a wet paper towel ready to wipe it all away, should a co-worker open the bathroom door. The assumption, of course, was that the interval between the *creak* of the door and the human stepping into the general bathroom area would be long enough for me to hide what I was doing. As Charlie Murphy might say, "wrong ... wrong."
Somebody opened the door and scooted around the corner while I was still trying to hide my dorky exploits. It must've looked like I was cleaning up after doing mountains, literally mountains of coke.
Anyway, tonight, I'm again faced with a zit, this time on my temple, behind the hairline, and thus generally being out of public view. But it hurt, so I felt the need to grapple with it. No aspirin this time, but plenty of two-fingered contortions. Again, the door opens, and a guy walks around the corner.
Same guy as last time. He probably thinks I'm a complete wreck.
OK, so y'know how the kids in "Family Circle" are always making unwitting puns or spoonerisms, like "Bless us so, Lord," instead of "Bless us, oh Lord"? Somebody should make a similar comic strip about young, naive info-tech nerdz. Like this:
A geeky kid is coating a computer diskette with dog shit.
Caption: "They told me to use dookie encryption."
Back at the end of the 2K3, my in-laws gave me one of those "Stupidest Things Ever Said" calendars. If you know my Halloween-costume history, and my general penchant for things pontifical and fecal, then you know why the Oct. 5 entry was perfect (pdf).
"Remember how Jor-El's parents put him in the rocket because Krypton was crumbling? Same deal." Stern on moving to Sirius satellite radio when his current contract is up. Score one for freedom of speech, but at the same time, thousands of listeners will be screwed, no doubt. Anybody who drives a company vehicle will no longer have free, unfettered access to the show. Will Sirius come up with some way to get Stern to people who absolutely cannot install Sirius gear where they work? Who knows. Don't wanna be a killjoy here I've been wanting try satellite radio for a couple of years but a lot of burned-out dudes in delivery trucks won't be part of the audience anymore. That's the crowd that made Stern in the early days.
I've always been a fan, on a pure word-juxtaposition level, of the film title "Mother, Jugs and Speed." It's time for an update/remake/rehash, though. How about these:
"Genie, Cheeks and Juice"
"Mainframe, Blaze and Skeet"
"Teabag, Hoots and Krunk"
and so on ...
Haiku artisans might note that this an excellent exercise for honing your five-syllable skillz.
MCs might note that "Biggie, Jay-Z and Nas" has six syllables.
1. CNN's Tucker Carlson, waiting patiently with his son while the family's gazillion females (wife + at least, like, 27 daughters) bought hair ribbons. 2. Rep. Jim Moran, D-Va., looking like a shrunken Ted Kennedy (white hair, pink face). He is from Massachusetts, after all. No James Carville, a known Alexandria lurker ... ask Kirkpatrick for his top-notch J.C. poems if you need a fix.
1. Donating and/or discarding tons, literally tons, of old computer equipment due to the arrival of the new iMac
2. Diet grapefruit soda from A-Treat
3. The ill science of Philadelphia Eagles defensive coordinator Jim Johnson
4. "drukqs" by Aphex Twin
5. The tasteful-and-yet-funny "how to do ablutions if you have a wet dream" scene from "Osama"
6. The summery early-autumn of Washington