Wife with child in car. Child says:


Wife doesn’t know where this comes from. Later that night: Gnat bonks her head on the wall, asks me to upbraid the wall. Which I do: “Wall, don’t bonk Natalie on the head.”

“Now the wall says something.”

Oh. Right. I have to apologize in the character of whatever item gave offense. “S’awright,” I say. In the wall’s voice. This goes back to last night. I had reprimanded the swinging door on the laundry chute for pinching her finger. Something about the door made me give it a voice: “S’awright,” I said, in the voice I remembered from the end credits of Quick Draw McGraw. It came from a lockbox running behind Queekstraw’s horse. And that was a reference to Senor Wences, an Ed Sullivan mainstay. Right? Let’s google “quick draw mcgraw sawright”

Man, I HATE WHEN THIS HAPPENS. There has to be a word for having your own site come back on a google search.

The Chronological Donald Duck, Vol. 1 arrived today. Gnat was excited. Donald is every kid’s naughty friend and bad adult. I went down a few minutes ago to take her upstairs for her bath; Donald was fighting a fire with this three nephews.

Who are they? I asked.

Louie, Dewie, and Gooey.

Donald hooks up a hose to a cylinder marked “GASOLINE.” I ask her what that says. “Gas,” she replies, distractedly. Not surprising; this morning during our Thinking Lessons she decided that it wasn’t enough to copy the letters in the lessons; she wanted to copy the words they used as examples. I took a phone call, came back, and found that she’d written ELEPHANT:

Not bad. Not bad for three years and ten months.

Lousy day for the most part, but that’s my fault. I read this the other day, and that made my antennae twitch. Not that they’ve ever been right, but it reminded me that if I lost power or water we’d have a day or two before we ran out of stuff. After 9/11 I put aside a Worst Case Box, something I could throw in the car if we had to go. It seemed like an overreaction then. And it also seemed prudent. So today we went to Sam’s Club, perchance to stock up. I misunderstood the point of Sam’s Club. Apparently it’s for people who run SUMMER CAMPS, or have broods that rival Cletus and Brandeen’s family. I wanted 24 individual cans of soup, not fargin’ KEGS. In the end I bought soda and batteries. (You get a lot of batteries for eight bucks.)

Are these not cool?

Okay, maybe not. But these are portable speakers in the shape of a double CD box, and for my purposes they’re great. At a certain point every morning I hit my NO MAS point, turn off the radio or the TV and/ or the blogosphere, and retreat to my 40s pop music playlist. These speakers plug in to the laptop, and the quality isn’t that bad.

Have I showed you where I work in the morning? Can’t remember. Well, here it is.

Ladies and Gentlemen! Boogie Woogie! This has replaced “Surfin’ Bird” as our evening dance song. If you don’t understand how cool this song is, hand in your credentials as an American, right now. This is the product of a confident culture. And you can do a Chuck Berry duckwalk to it.

That’s all for tonight.

Except a bite-sized screed:

I’m working on a column about “Farhenheit 911.” Found this quote from Moore’s own site, from April 14. That’s the infamous entry where he wrote “The Iraqis who have risen up against the occupation are not ‘insurgents’ or ‘terrorists’ or “The Enemy.” They are the REVOLUTION, the Minutemen, and their numbers will grow – and they will win.”

Noted. He also wrote: “I oppose the U.N. or anyone else risking the lives of their citizens to extract us from our debacle. I'm sorry, but the majority of Americans supported this war once it began and, sadly, that majority must now sacrifice their children until enough blood has been let that maybe -- just maybe -- God and the Iraqi people will forgive us in the end.

Sacrificing American blood to earn God’s favor? Sound like anyone you know?


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c. 1995-2004 j. lileks