Whoops

Hey, sorry for not having posted anything since the middle of March.

I forgot my password (it was bilbobaggins).

I'll post more often from now on. Then again, I'd just about have to.

Oh noes

If Bristol 'n' Levi can't make it work, what chance do any of the rest of us have?

The complete article, which sadly is not available online, purports to have the details about "the hate-filled text message Bristol sent Levi." It probably read something like this:

OMFG U R SUCH A FAG!! I AM GOING 2 HAVE JON MCCANE KICK YR STUPID ASS! I WISH I NEVER FUCKED U!!!! PS TELL YR MOMS I NEED MORE METH K?

Remains of the day

This is what can happen when people value the fetus above all things: no fewer than six cops break into the residence, without a search warrant, of a woman who suffered a miscarriage, and who had been trying to dispose of the fetal remains with dignity and in accordance with the law.

I hope these people sue the hell out of the Glendale, California, police department.

This can't be good

At least one chimpanzee began to amass an arsenal of rocks with which he intended to assault zoo visitors.

Apparently Santino, the chimp in question, began stockpiling his weapons of mass contusion as far back as 1997, so for once this can't even be pinned on the George W. Bush administration.

Yay

The best drama on television begins its second season this evening. I've been looking forward to this for a long time.

An' a one toke over the line

I wonder how many stoners watching the Lawrence Welk show for giggles back in the day stumbled upon this and vowed never to get high again.

Socks to be you

Astute readers of this blog, assuming that I have any, have surely noticed that I haven't been posting for a while. For like three weeks, actually.

Why not, Anthony? I can hear you saying. Is there something wrong? Can we help in any way?

First off, let me say that I am fine. Rumors that I have been in Switzerland to get a total blood transfusion are false, no matter what you may have heard elsewhere. Nor have I gotten into any legal trouble.

I have been away for a very good reason. A few weeks ago, I learned that a close friend of mine was ill, very ill indeed. I canceled all my commitments and immediately took the next flight out so I could be by his side. I tried to get him the best medical care available. Experimental treatments did prolong his life for a few days, but ultimately ol' Killy McGee had his way, as he always does, and about ten days ago, the best friend I ever had left this earth.

I speak, of course, of Socks the Cat, or as he was known to his closest friends, STC.

STC had cancer of the jaw, which made it nearly impossible for him to drink his daily saucer of beer. After consulting with Bill, Hillary, and Chelsea Clinton, as well as Socks's last owner (as if anyone could own such a magnificent, free-thinking animal) Betty Currie, we decided to put Socks down. And after we put him down, we picked him up again, and drove him to a veterinarian, who injected him with a massive shot of phenobarbital, in honor of Abbie Hoffman, whose life was an inspiration to STC since his kitten days.

After a tasteful cremation ceremony, we scattered Socks's ashes over Wrigley Field, as per his frequent request.

Those of us who knew and loved Socks the Cat, and we are legion, will never forget that amazing feline and his many contributions to our civic life. We will not know his like again.

RIP, STC.

Bong hits 4 Phelps

Rodney Balko, also known as The Agitator, wrote the letter that he wishes Michael Phelps had written. Here's an excerpt:

I’ll apologize when the sons, daughters, and nephews of powerful politicians who get caught possessing or dealing drugs in the frat house or prep school get the same treatment as the no-name, probably black kid caught on the corner or the front stoop doing the same thing.

Until then, I for one will have none of it. I smoked pot. I liked it. I’ll probably do it again. I refuse to apologize for it, because by apologizing I help perpetuate this stupid lie, this idea that what someone puts into his own body on his own time is any of the government’s damned business. Or any of yours.

Here's the whole thing.

I myself smoked pot only one time: the time between 1975 and 1987. But even though it's been more than 21 years since I've taken a toke (inhaling secondhand smoke at a Neil Young concert simply does not count, even if I did have to lean in a little to get some), I think it's insane that it's against the law to smoke some kind herb, while it's perfectly legal to buy, for about $20, enough booze to get two or three people completely shitfaced.

Slammed

"Which one of you assholes ordered the free Grand Slam? Oh, that's right. All of you did."

Since I don't get high any more, I don't have any reason to eat at Denny's. But today they were giving away free Grand Slam breakfasts (two pancakes, two eggs, two sausage links, two strips of bacon) between the hours of 6 AM and 2 PM, so I thought what the hell, I'm always up for some free cholesterol early in the morning.

This morning I got up early and swung by the home of my colleague Randal Graves, who is also a mooch of some reknown, and we drove to the nearest Denny's, the one mentioned in this story. We got there at 6:15 AM. I figured that there would be no line at that unholy hour.

I figured wrong. As we pulled into the parking lot we could tell that the place was hopping. When we drove alongside the place, we could see that all the tables and booths were filled, and a line had formed. There was no way we were going to get served and still make it to work on time.

"Fuck this," one of us said. Okay, it was me. I said it. We decided to abandon our free Grand Slam dream and went to eat breakfast at a local diner instead. It was good, but it wasn't free. It wasn't even cheap, for that matter. We made it to work on time, though.

Randal and I tried and we failed, and as Homer Simpson taught us long ago, the lesson is: never try. I can't speak for Randal, but from now on I'm sticking with my usual breakfast: a cup of coffee and a piece of beef jerky. Believe me, there's no better way to start the day.

An untimely Inaguration Day recap

As you know, I attended the inauguration ceremony last week.

My friend J. and drove from Cleveland to the Vienna, Virginia Metro station, where we took a train to the office of Congressman Dennis J. Kucinich to get our tickets. This is what we saw when we got off the Metro train:It took us a while to get our bearings, but we eventually figured out how to get to the Rayburn House Office Building.

When J. and I were finally let in, we tried to find Kucinich's office. A woman in the building asked if we needed help. We told her who we were there to see and she smiled. "I'm his scheduler," she said. "I'll take you there."

She did. Kucinich was in the office, accompanied by his wife and his brother. Dennis was shaking hands and posing for pictures but his wife demurred, claiming she didn't feel photogenic that day. I did get my picture taken with The Kooch, and I took one of him with J. as well.

We got our ticket packet and thanked everyone, then we made our way back to the Capital South Metro station. We had to wait in line for about an hour but eventually we got our train back to Vienna.

From there we drove to a Red Roof Inn in Manassas. After checking in, J. and I went out to eat at a nearby Outback steakhouse. We were surprised to be asked if we wanted smoking or non-smoking seats. In Ohio smoking in restaurants has been outlawed for about two years now. We asked for non-smoking seats and got them, but a woman sitting in the smoking section, two feet from us on the other side of a partition, was legally and gleefully smoking her little lungs out, and naturally some of that smoke made its way over to our airspace. Not cool, Outback. Not cool.

J. and I set our alarms for 3:30 AM the next morning, hoping to be "out the door by four." We nearly made it, leaving the hotel at 4:18 AM. From there we drove to the Vienna Metro station, a trip which would have taken 20 or 30 minutes under normal conditions. Of course, with all the inaugural viewers, normal conditions did not apply. We finally got to the train station at about 6 AM.

After an hour's wait, we finally boarded a Metro train for DC. We got to our station at about 9:30 or 10 AM, much later than we'd hoped to. We made our way through the crowded streets and took up a position somewhat near the entrance where Silver ticketholders (the least desirable standing room tickets) were to be let in to the Mall.

Time passed, and it looked as though we weren't going to make it to the Mall area in time to see or hear anything. But at 11:20, ten minutes before the ceremony was to begin, DC police let the assembled throng pass through a gate. J. and I jostled through the crowd, trying to find a vantage point from which we could see anything.I would estimate that we were about one-third of a mile from the staging area. Through binoculars we could see the participants. Fortunately we were quite near a good loudspeaker, so we could hear everything just fine.

It was awesome to be standing on the Mall when President Obama finally took the oath of office. People were laughing, crying, hugging each other, applauding.

Having spent the better part of the last two days in lines and in huge crowds, J. and I decided to leave before the ceremony was officially over. We made our way back to the train station
where once again we had to wait an hour before we boarded our train. The ride back to Vienna was, of course, crowded. I had to stand nearly the entire way.

It was crowded, it was confusing, it was sort of expensive (what with the gasoline, the Red Roof's inflated rates, etc.), and we were cold and uncomfortable for most of the time. But it was well worth it. J. is a delightful traveling companion, and I want to thank her again for putting up with my petulance. It wouldn't have been nearly as rewarding without you.

Good luck, President Obama. And thanks for the tickets, Denny K!