Aw hell.

I don’t have anything to back that up; it was just the first thing that came to mind. But let’s see what I might have meant:

It’s 11:05 PM. Downside: the chances I will get to Carnivale tonight are poor. Upside: not really in the mood for grimy people acting out a cryptic morality play in the Land of Sepia. I love that show, but you have to be in the mood. And ever since my fever night, I have not been in the mood for TV. I watched half of Species 2: that’s how ill I was. Like so many movies from the late 90s and early Oughts, it starts on Mars. (If humanity doesn’t get there for the next 30 years, historians will blame all those crappy Mars movies that just soured the idea for everyone. Yes, let’s spend trillions so Tim Robbins can float around to Van Halen tunes, or Val Kilmer can squint kilmeresquely at the red horizon, or the astronaut in Species can plant the flag and say “We come on behalf of no nation, no race, no creed, but for all humanity.” Inspiring. On the way back to earth they take a video message from the President, played by Richard Beltzer doing a Reagan impression. Later some pregnant women explode. There. That’s the movie. What else is on? Oh, good. “Starship Troopers.” Now I can hate it all over again in HD.

Well, you don’t want to watch a good movie when you’re quasi delirious; what’s the point?

Additional upside: it’s late because my Newhouse column on Ratergate is finished, and I don’t have to worry about it tomorrow morning. I only have to worry about my Backfence column, which I wrote this afternoon. It’s more of a Bleat than this is.

I am sorry I linked to a page that tried to run some Active X voodoo last week; I had no idea. I can’t say “get a Mac!” or “get Firefox!” because many of you are at work, and in the thrall to IT guys who have job security patching the shambling undead gibbering monsters belched out by Microsoft. I apologize. I did get one letter that was signed “former daily reader,” which made me weary beyond belief. I understand, but jeez. This is an odd hobby. It’s like having a train set, a gigantic train set in the basement, and in the morning you not only find a derailment you find people streaming out of the tiny houses yelling at you.

It snowed, which is good, but it reminds me that this is January, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

I really want to write about a certain subject, but cannot, because it is so stupidly trivial and damning it makes me horrible. Even if I write it with as much self-awareness and dripping auto-contempt as possible I still look bad. And I mean, bad. Whining-about-cabana-service-at-Aceh bad. I’ll save it.

Gnat was relieved today to find out that we are not skeletons in heaven. “Just my skin goes up?”

No, your soul. Your spirit. And then it gets reassembled, and you get a new skeleton. The T-3000 model, all titanium. Eat your lunch.

Not in the mood for metaphysics today. Later she asked how rockets worked, which was better. That I can handle. She’s also very excited about going camping in June, which she believes will occur in about 36 hours. I’m excited too, because it means I get to buy lots of cool stuff that folds out. Stoves, lights, tables, 38-piece cooking kits – it’s Transformers for adults, with butane for that extra special kick.

What’s on his iPod? Wouldn’t you love to know? Imagine if it turned out to be nothing but Celene Dion and Andrew Lloyd Webber soundtracks.

Speaking of gadgets: the 70s revival in stereo and computer components can stop right now, please. I’m not saying this stuff looks like 70s gear, but it has a 70s ethos to it. Looks like it belongs in a living room with a huge rattan chair and a big painting of a jaguar and some plants with obvious & pendulous fronds. And about three hundred bucks worth of coke lost in the shag.

Okay, I’m done. I wrote a lot today, cleaned the house, grocery shopped, made supper, oversaw piano lessons and explained what blood is, and why skeletons have none, so I think I’m entitled to watch Judge Judy yell at some smirking miscreant until the upper layers of epidermis start to smoke.

Joe? He’s had it, too. (It’s short, but the link’s really good – brings it to life. It could include a hidden program that dials Bulgaria on your behalf and sticks you with the bill. But I doubt it.)

Perm link: here.

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