November 30, 2005
You ready? Excellent. Away we go...
- My Maximum Leader is a wee bit cheesed that the Olympic Flame will be earning frequent flyer miles.
- I listened to President Bush's speech this morning, and while I thought it was good, I have to say I think Chad's got a point about how it's likely to be received.
- There's been a bit of a brouhaha in the 'sphere about N.Z Bear's idea of potentially re-valuing links within the Ecosystem's unfathomable algorithms. You can find a small sampling of what bloggers think here, here, here and here.
- Chrissy got smoked on the freeway by an El Dorado yesterday and, in true Oliver Stone flashback fashion, it brought back some interesting memories.
- Sheila, once again, lets us share and revel in her obsession with Cary Grant and has an awesome post about the last scene in Notorious. I, for one, am really glad Sheila has her obsession with Cary because it allows me to indulge in my obsession with Cary, but I don't have to do nearly as much work as I would have to do normally to keep the obsession up to par. If that makes any sense whatsoever, which I don't think it does, but hey, I've got a cold so you people should be indulging me
- The Llamas would like you to kindly buy some of their merchandise. But don't buy a thong with their visage on it. That would just be wrong. In too many ways to count.
And herein endeth the link dumpage. I'm off to make some chamomile/peppermint tea which I will drink while sitting on the sofa and spacing out.
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November 29, 2005
I was going to blog tonight, but somehow a cold has managed to get past my patented and (normally) highly effective Hermit Defense System(TM). Hence, two things are going to happen. First, you're going to realize you're up shit creek as far as fresh content is concerned. And Second, I'm going to see if my two-year-old bottle of Ny-Quil still has the same potency as when I bought it, or if it pickles up nicely the longer you have it.
Green tongue, here I come!
Cheers!
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November 28, 2005
"I wouldn't even dream of going over there to play, in the same way I wouldn't go to a country that supported apartheid," McCartney says during a BBC News feature on animal cruelty in the Chinese fur trade."It's like something out of the dark ages," he continues. "It's just against every rule of humanity. I couldn't go there."
The video footage, which aired as part of BBC's Six O'Clock News Monday in England, purportedly shows screaming cats and dogs lifted out of tiny cages with metal tongs and thrown over a seven-foot fence. A bag of cats is seen thrown into a cauldron of boiling water. Several other animals are shown being brutally killed and skinned.
"How can the host nation of the Olympics be seen allowing animals to be treated in this terrible way?" McCartney asks.
"If they want to consider themselves a civilized nationÂ…they're going to have to stop this."
During the News program, McCartney and wife Heather Mills express horror, shock and disgust in response to the video, which was shot by an undercover investigator for PETA. Both McCartney and Mills are outspoken animal-rights activists.
Says Mills: "People in every other country in the world should now boycott Chinese goods." {...}
While I don't necessarily think it's a good thing to be cruel to animals, where, precisely, was Sir Paul's outrage when Mao was having his little tete-a-tete out in the countryside, you know, that little event that's more commonly known as The Cultural Revolution? Yeah, I know, he was probably stoned like everyone else was. It was the sixties, after all. But still, The Beatles wielded some power back then.
But, seriously though, is he worried about the high rates of female infanticide in rural China? You know, little baby girls being killed right after birth, their tiny bodies dumped in shallow graves because boys are more highly valued? Is he worried about political dissidents who are forced into slave labor? What about the workers who are poorly paid to sew together those cat and dog pelts into coats and the like? Where's his outrage on their behalf?
The better question, however, is do you think the BBC will cover Sir Paul's indignation about how the PRC treats people the same way they covered this piece of PETA propaganda?
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11:41 PM
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If you're a geek and care about such things. I like the guys at Penny-Arcade as much as the next gamer widow, but this shit is, well, obscure.
And let's face it, kids, there's a reason for that, no?
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11:21 PM
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11:16 PM
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November 24, 2005
WE TRIED COUNTING BACKWARDS, WE TRIED COUNTING SHEEP.
THE LEFTOVERS BECKONED - THE DARK MEAT AND WHITE
BUT WE FOUGHT TEMPTATION WITH ALL OF OUR MIGHT
TOSSING AND TURNING WITH ANTICIPATION
THE THOUGHT OF A SNACK BECAME INFATUATION.
SO, WE RACED TO THE KITCHEN, FLUNG OPEN THE DOOR
AND GAZED AT THE FRIDGE, FULL OF GOODIES GALORE.
WE GOBBLED UP TURKEY AND BUTTERED POTATOES,
PICKLES AND CARROTS, BEANS AND TOMATOES.
WE FELT OURSELVES SWELLING SO PLUMP AND SO ROUND,
'TIL ALL OF A SUDDEN, WE ROSE OFF THE GROUND.
WE CRASHED THROUGH THE CEILING, UP INTO THE SKY
WITH A MOUTHFUL OF PUDDING, A HANDFUL OF PIE.
BUT, WE MANAGED TO YELL AS WE SOARED PAST THE TREES....
HAPPY EATING TO ALL - PASS THE CRANBERRIES, PLEASE.
MAY YOUR STUFFING BE TASTY, MAY YOUR TURKEY BE PLUMP.
MAY YOUR POTATOES 'N GRAVY HAVE NARY A LUMP,
MAY YOUR YAMS BE DELICIOUS MAY YOUR PIES TAKE THE PRIZE,
MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING DINNER STAY OFF OF YOUR THIGHS.
Happy Thanksgiving, my devoted Cake Eater Readers.
{Hat Tip: The Cake Eater Dad via Email}
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November 22, 2005
Posted by: Kathy at
10:15 PM
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If you can do so, please help.
A related aside that should not be seen as a commentary on MDE's plight: this is the worst-case scenario that results from blogging anonymously. Most people blog anonymously and have no troubles with it. Some do, however---obviously. I can understand why people blog anonymously. However, it seems to me that if you choose to do so, you are simply putting a target on your back. By choosing to hide your identity, you are making it known to the world that you have something to lose by identifying yourself. Hence, the minute someone disagrees with you, and they want to get mean about it, they'll try to out you. And don't kid yourselves: no one is anonymous on the internet. Whois is just one click away and that's the beginning of the search.
In my humble opinion, it's easier to be yourself. When you have nothing to hide, you've got nothing to lose.
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11:08 AM
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"Elvis died on the potty!" ---Llama-ette #1
Go read the whole thing.
I particularly love this bit:
{...}At first, I was amazed that the gel had even heard the name before. When I asked if she knew who he was, she answered, "Yes, she said he was the king of rock and roll.""Well, yes, that's right - he was a singer," I replied.{...}
Now if I know my dear pal Robbo like I think I know my dear pal Robbo, he was chafing by this point. I'm sure he didn't want to talk so much to his daughter about how Elvis died, but rather would have preferred to instruct the eldest llama-ette about whether Elvis really could be considered to be "The King of Rock and Roll."
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10:11 AM
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How freakin' unprofessional is this? How amateurish of them, particularly after they admit to having met with a branding company. Not to mention the fact that they have VC and, as the husband put it, for them to have wound up in this spot, at least three people---including lawyers that the VC pays for---weren't doing their jobs.
This is embarrassing to watch. My face is turning red on their behalf.
{Hat tip: God}
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09:42 AM
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November 21, 2005
I will say it again: it never ceases to amaze me what some people will do to fill the hours.
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I have a neutral sort of appreciation for him, as in I know his music, but his music will never know me.
Johnny Cash was always country music. If you're from the Midwest, it's common knowledge that you're a follower of one of two philosophies: you're either country all the way or you loathe it. Generally speaking, with a few exceptions that could be thrown into the "follies of youth" department, I'm with the loathers. Ergo, Cash fell into the category of those who shall be loathed. That's just the way it was. Until he died. And then some bright soul at the record company decided it was time to cross market Johnny Cash to the rock and roll set. Because, you know, of course Cash was a big influence on lots of rock and roll acts. Hence you'd better run right out and buy this brand-spankin' new, digitally remastered, retrospective so you too shall know the genius that was Johnny Cash.
Better yet, you'll be able to tell a friend about it, and then they'll rush right out and buy his retrospective, too. And they'll tell another friend, who will tell another friend...
Until it's, reportedly, common knowledge that the Man in Black was always cool.
When he most assuredly wasn't.
Not by a long chalk.
Although, I will admit a fondness for his recording of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus.
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Of course, given my luck, this turned out to be a bad decision.
Now, undoubtedly you're wondering why this was a bad decision. You're thinking that perhaps with the upcoming Christmas shopping season the place was overloaded with holiday shoppers or that the sales staff wasn't being friendly enough, or that perhaps there had been some obnoxious fellow customer who'd ruined the experience for me. In reply, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, I would have to tell you that it was a combination of things that made this an unpleasant shopping experience.
Those and the fact that Jimmy Effin' Carter had decided to have a book signing in that particular Barnes and Noble.
Of all the book stores, in all the world, he had to walk into mine! The bastard!
You see, ever since we descended into Entrepreneurial Hell (TM), I don't get to go and spend money at the bookstore very often. And I miss that. Wandering around a bookstore for hours on end is one of my favorite things to do in this world. I love it. I get a thrill around books. You can walk me into a library and for a split second I'll stand there and let chills run up my spine. There is so much possibility when it comes to entering a book house. It doesn't matter whether it's a bookstore or a library or a friend's house where they have shelf after shelf loaded with books, all of these places signal possibilities---and people who like possibilities--- to me. You have no idea what you could find in those books. You have no idea how you could be enlightened by those books, or, when it comes to a home library, how you could be enlightened by the people who own those books. And that enlightenment creates a sort of awe and wonder in me.
In other words, I treat books the way some people treat the rainforest: there's probably a cure for cancer in there, somewhere, we just haven't stumbled upon it yet.
So, you'll perhaps understand that I enjoy shopping for books. The experience for me is akin to fine dining, or enjoying a particularly nice glass of single malt scotch with a cigar. There pleasure derived from in the act itself and there is also pleasure derived simply because you've done it right. It's one of the finer things in life for me. And, while it's horribly selfish of me to admit this, I just don't get the thrill of it all when budgetary constraints limit me. I know that sounds horrible, but would you go to a five-star restaurant if you were only able to pay for a breadstick? What's the point in that? So, when I'm broke I stay away from the bookstore and stick to the biblioteca. It's a system that works for me and that I'm accustomed to---except when I actually have money to spend, which is when I gear up for a trip to the bookstore, like I did yesterday. My birthday was two weeks ago. I've been holding on to the gift cards and have been waiting for a good moment to go and use them. I was savoring the anticipation of it all. And yesterday turned out to be that moment.
Until I actually got there...
...wherein I walked into the store and was accosted by two eager beaver Barnes and Noble employees, puffed up with their own self-importance, who asked, breathlessly, if I was there for President Carter's book signing. When I said, no, they sloughed me off like I was the dead skin on their loofah, and moved on, breathlessly excited, to the next person who'd walked through the door...who was, indeed, there for President Carter's book signing. As I stood there, taking off my gloves and hat, I, being the Gladys Cravitz that I am, listened to the schpiel. They were to go downstairs and someone would direct them to the end of the line. They were given a wristband the color of a yellow highlighter and were informed that there were no guarantees that President Carter would actually sign their books, it all depended on "how much he felt he up to doing." The very earnest lady on the receiving end of all this breathlessly relayed information, who looked like nothing so much as a Mrs. Potato Head in jersey knit and Clarks' clogs, nodded earnestly and waddled to the escalators, her copy of "Our Endangered Values: America's Moral Crisis," clutched tightly to her expanded universe-like bosom.
Have I mentioned this was at a little after two p.m.? Have I also mentioned that King Bubba the First wasn't expected until six p.m.? And that there were already forty some odd people in line by the time I got there?
Now, I'm not going to deny the moonbats a chance to see their bunny-rabbit fearing leader. I don't really care about that. What I do care about, however, is that the entire freakin' store was given over to this momentous occasion. To the exclusion of all else. The entire fiction section was littered with people who were lined up within the rows. If you tried to go and, God Help You, look for a book in that section you were shot nasty looks and, in one memorable exchange, accused of cutting in line. (Sha. As if!) Another section, upstairs, was entirely roped off as well. It looked to me as if they were preparing it for an extended queue but didn't want anyone in there, at all, until the line needed to be managed. As I passed that section, a book on one of the verboten shelves caught my eye. I wanted to look at it, but considering there were Cake Eater City cops and dogs from the Hennepin County Canine Unit posted nearby, I decided not to risk it. I asked a passing clerk if she would help me, and at which point said sales clerk had to forcibly restrain herself from rolling her eyes and said in an exasperated tone, "If you want something from there, why don't you come back tomorrow? We're a bit busy today," before storming off without extending an apology.
There is one rule of doing business that everyone should be aware of. And if you're not, you're probably bankrupt and you deserve to be so. Are you waiting with bated breath for me to tell you what this rule is, my devoted Cake Eater Readers? I'm sure you are, so I won't keep you in suspense any longer: NEVER MAKE IT DIFFICULT FOR CUSTOMERS TO GIVE YOU THEIR MONEY. While I would generally refer this rule when receiving slow service at a cash register---particularly with stores who only take certain kinds of credit cards, and who sneer at cash, etc.---the rule nonetheless can be boiled down to simply having merchandise you would like to sell. You do everything you can to facilitate sales, because, if you don't facilitate sales, ahem, you will be out of business.
Now, it may not be common knowledge, but book stores have events like these to drive traffic into their stores. These CRAZY managers are working under the utterly mad assumption that, hello!, the more people you have in the store, the greater the chances are you will sell stuff. Bring in a celebrity or two or maybe an ex-President of the United States of America and maybe, just maybe, you'll get an extra few hundred people to show up to purchase wares you just happen to sell, the lure of rubbing elbows with famous people a money-making charm like no other. So, while you'll sell more than a few copies of said famous person's book, you'll also sell a lot of magazines, newspapers, drinks and food from the in-store Starbucks, and especially important this time of year, Christmas presents---I'm sure you, my bright Cake Eater readers, can see that it would be very, very stupid to tell someone they should come back tomorrow instead of helping them today. When they're there, right there and then, with a gift card burning a hole in their pocket.
At that point, I took the one book I had in my hands, went to the cash register and checked out. I was asked if I had a discount card, and then when I said, no, I was asked if I wanted to purchase one. I said, no, again (and, honestly, people if you bought one of those you're, well, you're not a rocket scientist,are you? It's not really a discount if you're paying for it, is it? Like, duh.) and then she handed me my card and my bag and asked loudly if she could help the next customer in line. What did she miss, I ask you, my eager beaver, dying-to-learn-the-basics-of-customer-service Cake Eater Readers? That's right. You, like every five-year-old who's been taken down to DEFCON 1 on a manners alert exercise, caught that she didn't say thank you.
Way to go, Barnes and Noble at the Galleria. You should be really proud of your employees!
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November 18, 2005
Without further ado...
Did you see that re-showing of Pride and Prejudice that was on TV the other week? No, of course you didn't; you're all Americans. What the hell am I thinking? Right, so, there's this old, but very good, adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that the BBC did ages ago and, here in Britain, they recently repeated it. Though, perhaps you have all seen it anyway, eh? Because, if anything manages to lure you briefly away from a reading a good book, then that thing is sure to be PBS, isn't it? Oh, mercy - my poor ribs.Anyway, I was watching it with Margret, and this is the situation: she is reclining on the sofa, on the floor by her side is a cup of tea which I have made for her and brought in, she's resting her legs by placing them across me, and I am by turns gently stroking them and massaging her feet. On the TV, Colin Firth -- playing Mr Darcy -- glances up slightly in response to something Elizabeth Bennet has said. Margret pouts mournfully and says to me, 'Why can't you be romantic like that?'
Let me go over the salient points of that again.
Me:
* Tea.
* Reclining Assistance.
* Legs - Support of.
* Legs - Stroking of.
* Feet - Sensual Palpation.Colin Sodding Firth:
* Glances up slightly.
What about that, then, eh? How much earth moving machinery would it take to level that bleeding playing field, do we think?
Tons, Mil.
Sorry. But life's just not fair, is it?
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03:00 PM
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Oh, for the love of all that is good and holy, is NOTHING sacred? As if it wasn't bad enough that they're completely screwing with the book, they have to have a separate ending, tailor-made for what they presume the American market wants?
Excuse me, but I'm going to collapse now. The vapors have descended.
{Insert "thud" sound here}
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02:02 PM
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I believe it would be my recipie for chicken pot pie, which, while damn tasty when eaten for dinner, is truly better the next day for lunch.
The husband, I believe, would be an enthusiastic advocate for cold pizza.
Discuss.
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12:56 PM
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I'm not telling you which post to vote for, per se, but I think we all know what happens when people cross me. So, if you know what's good for you...
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12:23 PM
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Ignore it at your peril.
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09:32 AM
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