so!
Eli is giving up news blogs for now, and I'm quitting smoking tomorrow.
wish us luck!

Dervala writes about Gaelige:

Sometimes he tries to read the signs in broad, slow Canadian, which makes me laugh more. This language does not let in foreigners easily (my name is written "Dearbhaile" in Irish). It is full of conditional tenses, inflected nouns, and strange sub-dialects. It can sound Scandinavian, somtimes even like Hebrew. There are no words for 'yes' and 'no', which accounts for our national reluctance to commit. "Are you well?" we say, and "I am", is the answer.

oof.
hedgehog cuteness.

Well, I was thinking about the existence of cannibals, my dears, and found myself scratching the Google itch with a search for "Yes, Virginia," just to see if there are any cleverer-than-thou people who've come up with things more gloriously exciting than boring old Santa Claus, and yes indeedy! there are.

Yes, Virgina, there is a Great Cthulhu. He exists as certainly as the cold unfeelingness of the cosmos exits, and you know that this meaninglessness abounds and gives to your life its highest absurdity. Alas! how comfortable would be the world if there were no Cthulhu! It would be as comforting as if a Santa Claus truly did care and reward children for doing good. There would be childlike faith then, a world of sweet believable poetry and romance to make existence idyllic and appealing. The external light with which childhood fills the world would never end.

Not believe in the Great Cthulhu! You might as well not believe in Hastur or the Necronomicon. You might get your papa's science books and Skeptical Inquirers to see if Cthulhu is mentioned in any historical contexts or if R'lyeh truly does rest under the Pacific Ocean, but even if you did not find either mentioned in your 'holy' books, what would that prove? Nobody sees or knows of Cthulhu, but that is no sign that there is no Great Cthulhu. The most real things in the world are those that we can not know through the senses. Can the headache of your friend be felt by you? No, but his pain affects your life regardless. Do you feel the angst of living a life you never wanted through any of your five senses? No, yet the despair remains. Yet if such realities are known but are never seen, then why should other's ignorance of the unseen lead us to share in their blindness. By what right have they earned your obedience? Nobody can conceive of the inconceivable, including your leaders of thought.

And if you think that's weird, check out this crazy-ass blood cult...

Maybe I should get more sleep...

A most Tender Gift, inspiring tears of joy: A POEM

my friend Daphne writes a poem for Phoebe Gloeckner's cat, Pipsqueak.

You must begin your introduction to little Pip by looking at this photo.
No, I insist. Look at it.
Then, go on to look at everything in the Pipsqueak category of Phoebe's blog.
Really. You must.
(and don't miss the cupcakes. Genius.)
Thank you.

kill your tv

thank you, Ant Farm!

wowee, indeed

Infiltration of files seen as extensive

Republican staff members of the US Senate Judiciary Commitee infiltrated opposition computer files for a year, monitoring secret strategy memos and periodically passing on copies to the media, Senate officials told The Globe.
From the spring of 2002 until at least April 2003, members of the GOP committee staff exploited a computer glitch that allowed them to access restricted Democratic communications without a password. Trolling through hundreds of memos, they were able to read talking points and accounts of private meetings discussing which judicial nominees Democrats would fight -- and with what tactics.

thanks to Eli for the link.
so, are you trying to tell me that members of the Republican party- members of our government- may not be trustworthy?

call it what you like

`In THAT direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round, 'lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,' waving the other paw, `lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'

`But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.

`Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'

`How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.

`You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'

Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on `And how do you know that you're mad?'

`To begin with,' said the Cat, `a dog's not mad. You grant that?'

`I suppose so,' said Alice.

`Well, then,' the Cat went on, `you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.'

`I call it purring, not growling,' said Alice.

`Call it what you like,' said the Cat.

nice sign

Also- apparently there were buttons in Iowa that said, "Date Dean. Marry Kerry." I'm not sure if this cracks me up or makes me nauseous.

I managed to stumble to work today despite the feeling that my head isn't quite attached to my shoulders anymore. I don't even remember the train ride. My inbox is full of new emails. The pile on my desk seems to have grown overnight. I suppose it's good that I'm here, doing battle- after all, three day weekend coming up, I can sleep then, I can have three nice mornings at home, I can stay in bed reading for hours. I'll have a good, productive day, so I can put this day on my private brownie points list and use it in the future: but there was that day when I was good, so today I don't have to be- but it doesn't help that there's a sleeping, dreaming, warm body in my bed, while I'm here, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee, staring at a computer monitor, wishing the clock 6 hours ahead...

"I was your waitress Saturday night"

I proclaim National Waiter Appreciation Month to be now.
and next month, too.
how many times have I thought something like this:
"In addition to being out of magic that night, due to the holidays and family drama, I was also out of Ass Kiss."
my own personal favorite, which never actually got used, was "I'm sorry, my mind-reading abilities disappeared when I hit puberty. You'll have to actually tell me what you'd like."

Schwebebahn webcam!

"Bette, how could you?"

"...all I am saying is that maybe you need to return to the sea now. You have spent enough time on the beach."

Margaret Cho keeps track of what's on tv for me, so I don't have to.

from now on, I'm filtering everything through tha Shizzolator before I read it. here's a sample- the quote from the NYT two posts ago:

Though a bane teachers of public speaking, muthas around da world fill pauses in they own languages as naturally as watermelons has seeds n' shit. In Britain they be like uh but spell that shiznit a, just as they pronounce a in butter n' shit.
The French be like something that sounds like euh, 'n Hebrew speakers be like ehhh, know what I'm sayin'? Serbs 'n Croats be like ovay, 'n da Turks be like mmmmm, know what I'm sayin'? The Japanese be like eto (eh-) 'n ano (ah-no), da Spanish este, 'n Mandarin speakers neige (NEH-guh) 'n jiege (JEH-guh) n' shit. In Dutch 'n German yo' ass can be like uh, um, mmm, know what I'm sayin'? In Swedish that shiznit's eh, ah, aah, m, mm, hmm, ooh, a 'n oh; in Norwegian, e, eh, m 'n hm, know what I'm sayin'?


I'd like to watch certain linguistic types squirm over this.

it's almost like being there

Jean Dubuffet, "Le Jardin d'Hiver"

mmmmm.

Though a bane to teachers of public speaking, people around the world fill pauses in their own languages as naturally as watermelons have seeds. In Britain they say uh but spell it er, just as they pronounce er in butter.
The French say something that sounds like euh, and Hebrew speakers say ehhh. Serbs and Croats say ovay, and the Turks say mmmmm. The Japanese say eto (eh-to) and ano (ah-no), the Spanish este, and Mandarin speakers neige (NEH-guh) and jiege (JEH-guh). In Dutch and German you can say uh, um, mmm. In Swedish it's eh, ah, aah, m, mm, hmm, ooh, a and oh; in Norwegian, e, eh, m and hm.

from the song of mehitabel,
by Don Marquis


i have had my ups and downs
but wotthehell wotthehell
yesterday sceptres and crowns
fried oysters and velvet gowns
and today i herd with bums
but wotthehell wotthehell
i wake the world from sleep
as i caper and sing and leap
when i sing my wild free tune
wotthehell wotthehell
under the blear eyed moon
i am pelted with cast off shoon
but wotthehell wotthehell

do you think that i would change
my present freedom to range
for a castle or moated grange
wotthehell wotthehell
cage me and i d go frantic
my life is so romantic
capricious and corybantic
and i m toujours gai toujours gai

i know that i am bound
for a journey down the sound
in the midst of a refuse mound
but wotthehell wotthehell
oh i should worry and fret
death and i will coquette
there s a dance in the old dame yet
toujours gai toujours gai

i once was an innocent kit
wotthehell wotthehell
with a ribbon my neck to fit
and bells tied onto it
o wotthehell wotthehell
but a maltese cat came by
with a come hither look in his eye
and a song that soared to the sky
and wotthehell wotthehell
and i followed adown the street
the pad of his rhythmical feet
o permit me again to repeat
wotthehell wotthehell