Thank you, Whiskey River, for the Lassie and Timmy link

I was going to write something about the GOP and WTF and the correct spelling of goddammit/goddamnit and my preference for the former, but I got sidetracked and now all I have to say is thank you, Whiskey River, for the links to Lassie & Timmy.

That is all.

Now, please gaze at this small penlight while I put on my sunglasses. There. It was only swamp gas, and a weather balloon.

Americans can do anything

Just skip this if you’re tired of hearing about the Republican response to the President’s recent non-State of the Union speech.

Or watch this for the executive summary.

I hadn’t planned to watch the response, I even missed the fact that there had been one, until I accidentally stumbledupon it yesterday. I made it about 30 seconds into it before saying, What a patronizing weirdo and going somewhere else.

There was a nice discussion of it at mefi. A lot of people twittered tweeted twittered about it at twitter.

Didn’t see anything at facebook, but that figures. Myspace crashes my computer, or my eyes, so not sure about that.

Someone said he, Bobby “The Exorcist” Jindal, reminded them of Barney Fife the way he walked out there between the flags. Someone else said he looked as if he had just left a dead, or not-quite-dead, body in his basement. To me he looked like a combination of the two.

Someone else said the reason he sounded as if he were speaking to kindergarten children is because he was, because they’re going to be the first demographic to vote for a Republican president again.

I was basically just really, really appalled by so many things. Why this sort of speech? Why this awful delivery? Why this particular person?

jindal1

He creeped me out before he had said anything. I watched the first few seconds of the video over and over to figure out why.  It was something about his entrance and demeanor. Not only patronizing, but creepy. The serial killer thing.

I thought it might be the crazy eyes, but that could be attributed to craven political ambition, too. I finally decided it was his posture. The first glimpse of him here shows him leaning forward, and he keeps this crooked stance most of the time, off and on.

It makes you look weird, Bobby. Stand up straight!

All over

The American relatives are all in America. The in-laws are in Egypt, but not in Cairo, where some tourists just got bombed. Alpha is in Japan. Me and the kids are here. All spread out, the family right now. Except me, somehow, I’m always right here.

With the fucking cats.

What’s wrong with you kids get off my lawn!

Snowing, yes, yet again. Various cereals in me, Alpha’s banana bread in the kid. Trim fixed on car, new haircut, plans to go out to lunch today, ballroom dance class tonight, ball tomorrow, Alpha business trip Sunday. Wow, hard to find markets for zombie stories! Who knew? In reaction, entire zombie novel takes shape in brain. Yes. Pretending I have a drama allergy. Now, when things get dramatic, I swell up and gasp for air. When the choice is drama or laughing, I’ll take laughing, thx. What’s wrong with kids nowadays, you kids your music sucks when you remove the drama nothing is left. Well, some narcissism. Gotta go, bye!

BeeGee Apocalypse

It was snowing this morning, like something from a Sigur Ros greatest hits video, maybe because I had a Sigur Ros CD in the player. Not that Sigur Ros causes snow, just Sigur Ros similes. It wasn’t a greatest hits CD, though, but a specific CD, the whitish one with a little person in some treeish things.

My day started off productively.  I think my coffee was stronger than usual, at least it sounded that way when I listed to my wife my pre-6.30 achievements. Fed the cats! Got the paper! Made bacon and eggs for the kid and me! Cleaned the litterbox! Fed the birds! And more! I am a god! (Just kidding, God).

A day of win, and still so early. The trick is, I say the trick, actually a trick, a trick is to expect the worst, then it’s never worse than you expected, and usually better, so not only no disappointment, but actually usually a nice surprise. The inner contradiction of this method, of course, is that it — the method — hinges on not expecting the worst. The method, examined closely, is expecting things to be average but pretending to yourself to expect the worst – pretending to be an absolute pessimist. So, kind of a dishonest method. Also, it’s hard to expect the worst, because you can always think of something worse than what you just thought of. Zombies! No, wait, zombies holding your family hostage! No, wait zombies eating your family! No, wait, BeeGees eating your family! BeeGee apocalypse!

Aim for the teeth!

After that it all sort of unravelled, because suddenly the BeeGees were in Ireland and people were arguing over how they could get to Ireland in an apocalypse, and deciding RyanAir and stuff.

Road trip

My car is in the shop today to have a thing hanging down repaired — a bit of black plastic trim off of which a little thing broke, which had been holding it to the metal part, causing it to hang, you know, nothing serious but sort of ruining the whole look, like a dangling false eyelash on a friend’s alcoholic mom when you are a kid, and you can’t just fix it with black duct tape because this is Austria or something. Hence I am driving Beta’s car, inflammatory bumper stickers and all. Dropped Gamma at school, got out to fix the outside mirror someone had dislocated, in the parking lot I suppose. Discovered the battery was dead upon getting  back into the car and trying to drive away. I thought I had turned off the radio and heater when I parked last night; maybe it was just the cold, but probably I forgot. I called my wife and she hurried over with jumper cables. I stood around in the falling snow for a few minutes, waiting, then sat in the car. When she arrived I hooked the cables (a first for me, in 49 years, can you believe it?) and it started right up. She suggested I bring the cables with me, which I did. Was careful to turn off everything I could find when I parked at the office. Lights, heat, radio. Also I packed a lunch today so I wouldn’t have to go out into the snow at lunch, but it lasted only 9 minutes on my desk so ehn. PS Beta don’t get excited about your mirror, it’s totally fine again.

On the joyless defenstration of cello teachers

When playing a high note, any note really, where appropriate, but in this case it was a high note, in fourth position or whatever it is called in English, you want not only to vibrate the note but also to hold the fingers of your left hand in the proper positions. They should not bend in the wrong way, or be held at the wrong angle. We went over this, my teacher and I. He asked whether the nerve damage in my left hand made it impossible for me to feel with the fingers, and I answered, “somewhat, but not completely.” In my opinion, the partial numbness is less a problem than general laziness and lack of knowledge of proper technique. He demonstrated the proper finger positions. He looked at my fingers, and at his. He remarked that it was easy for him, he had long slender fingers. But then, he remarked, X has sausage fingers too, and he gets by. X being some professional cellist of his acquaintance. I mentally measured the classroom window. The chances of surprising him so greatly that I could throw him through it like a spear were slight, and with his long arms and legs it would be nearly impossible were he to resist, turning into a stubborn, joyless struggle common in my dreams. I expressed optimism that I, too, could train myself to vibrate that high note.