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March 31, 2005
Ground Control to Major Tom or "A la Maison Blanche"
West Wing: Not horrible. Not horrible. Better than anything since the health-care smackdown. Still, I didn't care about the space quandry until the end and even then I didn't care that much. Just thought it interesting that C.J. would leak so... stupidly. They'll know it's her. And then she'll be killed. Just a thought for the plot of the next season opener.
Everyone seems to be getting it on except Josh and Donna. I'm glad that Zoey has moved beyond her fey drug-addled French prince phase (didn't we all have on of those?) and gone back to good old Chucky. Glad the Santos' have a healthy marriage. But we needs us some Josh and Donna lovin'. And they should show that episode on Showtime, not NBC.
I wouldn't elect Russell to dye my eyelashes and I wouldn't elect Santos to empty my ashtrays. Alan Alda I'd elect, but as Hawkeye, not some quasi-Republican.
Posted by emily at 1:31 PM | Comments (0)
March 28, 2005
My Brother Is On Fire
I was awoken this morning by my mother telling me about triv's fabulous exploding laptop. She did not use those extact words. I believe I went back to sleep and dreamt of jelly beans and bathroom fixtures.
My senior year of college, I lived in a very old dorm. We had fire alarms constantly, usually at three in the morning. Now, they had banned candles, christmas lights and coffee makers, but they didn't ban smoking in this old dorm.
One morning near Christmas, the girl kitty-corner from me, Erin Hoover, was smoking in her room and had to leave to go to class. The wind came from her window and blew the embers of her cigarette onto the bed. It quickly spread.
Now, I was in the room kitty-corner, making coffee in my illegal coffee maker and trying to print out my conference paper about globalization and the media. I smelled burnt toast. The fire alarm went off and because we had had so many drills, I took my time. Carefully put on my shoes, my coat... until I opened the hall door and saw smoke everywhere. Then I yelled for my suitemate, who, like me, had assumed it was nothing.
Suitmate, Leila, her guest who had been in the shower, me and a bunch of other Dudley Lawrence denzians watched as smoke started to slowly pour from our opened windows. I wondered if I remembered to turn the coffee maker off. I was late for my final exam in poli sci but (and this is one of the beauties of attending a small college) Ray, my prof, walked by right as smoke started to really come out the windows.
"I won't be on time for the final, Ray." I said.
He agreed.
None of my stuff was actually on fire. Just smoke damage that I never got out of that iMac or television set. And you couldn't drink the coffee.
Mac products aflambe, anyone?
Posted by emily at 2:20 PM | Comments (0)
March 26, 2005
Erect A Statue To Sam Kimery! Bring him wine, virgins and soft leather pants!
Some inventions make life easier. Some inventions amuse the eye. And some inventions are absolutely needed for the continual survival of mankind.
Man Sells Device That Blocks Fox News
Posted by emily at 3:17 AM | Comments (0)
March 23, 2005
Father Mulcahy Would Be Proud or "A la Maison Blanche"
West Wing: Okay it sucks now. Yes, it does. We can establish that it lacks the Sorkin, it misses the Sorkin, it is the anti-Sorkin.
On this, we can shake hands and share mimosas.
Let me interject, however, that seeing Martin Sheen and Alan Alda eat ice-cream and discuss the Bible... those are pretty tasty brussel sprouts there. It's not the fine Sorkin cabbage roll with extra gravy, but we've already established that that diner has been closed and demolished. So seeing two of my favorite actors, 70s Vietnam war icons (you do know that Korea was metaphor, right?) munching down the pistachio... cool.
No Bradley Whitford or Janel Moloney... uncool.
They should put Will Bailey on a feeding tube just to rip it out of his throat. I like the little short blond girl, though, more and more. And as always, give me Toby or give me death.
How I wish one of those V.P. nominees have been Mike Farrell. Throw us a cabbage roll, people!
Posted by emily at 10:11 PM | Comments (2)
Terri Schiavo Will Be The Republicans' Undoing
I have very little sympathy for any "right to life" movement. I feel that we spend far too much time harping on the right to eat, shit and breathe and less time trying to improve the quality. And that's in our own country; this culture of life Bush so fondly speaks of has apparently nothing to do with Iraq, Afghanistan, the sub-Saharan, teenage prostitutes in Thailand, etc, etc.... 85 militants killed in Iraq today. Militants with families who will spawn more militants....
It can be gleaned from 2,000 years of history that Planet Earth offers no inherent "right to life." Quite the opposite. The planet and its people usually are trying to kill you. It may be a tidal wave, it may be the drunk in the Chevy, it may be that your house is unfortunately located in Baghdad. You know what this "life" thing always ends with? Death. Does it always happen after eighty years of fine living? Hardly ever.
Don't get depressed and cry into your wheat germ. This is the deal we made for cable TV and buffalo wings. A feeding tube the size of Kansas will not change life ending in death. And is Terri Schiavo really alive? Is that really life? We'd have to ask her, and we can't because she can't communicate. A tree can't communicate with us, either. But we have no issue cutting it down.
Of course, the six-month old baby who was taken off life support in Texas last week because his mother wasn't wealthy enough couldn't speak either. And our culture of life guru, President Bush, signed the law allowing it when he was governor of Texas in 1999. As James T. Kirk says of Khan in Star Trek II, "I'll say this for him, he's consistent."
How, you may ask? I think if you look back on the career of W, you will see that he is absolutely for the right to life as long as you have money, are American, are white and male. If you are exactly like him, you can live. If not, go drown in your wheat germ. Why do he and his rich white American male comrades want Terri Schiavo to live so badly? Because maybe someday, someone will want to remove their feeding tubes. Or their pod-brains. And they fully believe the world cannot turn without them, even if they are motionless vegetables.
We will never pull your tube, George. We would never be able to tell if you were in a vegetative state or not. You can go back on vacation now.
But, alas, this time, the country does not agree with Noodlehead In Chief. A whopping 70% of people, according to ABC News. In this minefield of feeding tubes, the Republican party will lose their head. Lots of people know people who were taken off extraneous measures. Where they did not resuscitate. Children do not feel guilty about doing that for their parents because that's not life.
It's like the NRA. They want to keep their guns, okay. But they always go the step beyond that: lashing out at any legislation that does anything to stop anyone from owning any kind of weaponry they wish. If Betty Sue, the 6-year-old wunderkind, wants an Uzi, then by God this is America.
This often backfires, because 90% of your rational people do not think Betty Sue should be near the trigger, even though they may support gun owners themselves. Limitless rights often take away from nuance. Of course, I'll fight you to the death if you say that about the FIRST amendment. Slightly different brand of pie, people. If Betty Sue gets her hands on porn, she won't use it to blow out my kneecaps.
What do guns have to do with Terri Schiavo? They have to do with the downfall of the Republican party. "Right to life" in every case is meaningless. It can be quite cruel. Sure, I'd like a "right to life" if there's some fighting chance I will be able to having a meaningful life or a recovery of some sorts. But if I'm brain-dead hooked up to machines unable to smile or blink, then take your NRA gun and shoot me. Don't even let it get as far as a congressional law.
Many, many Americans feel the same way. They may be squeamish about a loved one. But when it comes to themselves, I hear so many voices say the words "just let me die if that happens." Terri Schiavo may have said that. We'll never know. We'll also never know just how many people are taken off life-support every day because all family members agree.
"Right to life", but what is that? I want a right to death. It's inevitable anyway. Let me and my loved ones have some control over it. You let Betty Sue have her Uzi, after all. That surely doesn't fit in with "the culture of life."
There's a culture of life in my wheat germ bowl. I will now eat it and destroy it. Please do not resuscitate.
Posted by emily at 3:11 PM | Comments (0)
March 21, 2005
Kiss My Feeding Tube
Fat Charlie wants you to know: if she has a feeding tube stuck down her throat for fifteen years, rip it out. What the hell were you waiting fifteen years for? Two years, tops, and I'll be sick of watching "Jeopardy."
And if Congress says no, just book me a flight on Buenos Aires Air and ship me down to Antartica and let me freeze to death with the penguins.
And if the presidents says no, just point with the correct finger facing up and tell him that, at least the first time, he wasn't actually elected. In flight with Beunos Aires Air, we call that a Supreme Court junta with a bit coupe d'etat thrown in.
Fifteen years brain dead? No wonder our fearless leader can relate.
Posted by emily at 11:06 PM | Comments (0)
March 20, 2005
Fat Charlie Recommends...
... watch "Arrested Development" on Fox. And no, Valerie Harper and/or Sandy Duncan are not on this show. Neither is Meredith Baxter-Birney. If you enjoy, I have season one on DVD. I will gladly let you borrow them, free of charge. Just send $20 to:
Fat Charlie DVD Rentals, Inc.
101 Deweycheatemandhow Drive
Wampasscot, TX 34353
Fee non-negotiable. Void where prohibited. Please do not burn down the banana stand, it is lined with money.
Posted by emily at 8:10 PM | Comments (1)
Getting Me An Edu-ma-cation
I passed bartending college. I only had to read 100 pages of Kant and, no, the Bloody Mary receipe wasn't on the test. I made twelve drinks in seven minutes and got a 96% on my final exam. I'm ready for the world.
I also received a 158 on my LSAT. According to my mother, this is very good, but I'm a bit disappointed. I'm only in the 77th percentile. Maybe its the whole "high school brainwashing", but isn't 77% a C? No, silly, I know it means I did better then 77% of the other test takers. But I should have done better than 100% of them ass-holes. You know what I'm saying? One person, where I was taking it, didn't comprehend the many warnings we were given beforehand and had on him an electronic device that beeped. No beeping during the LSAT!
I've gotten mailings now from Baylor College, Hofstra and Ave Maria in Ann Arbor has offered me a bit of money. But I cannot attend Tom Monahan's school. Is it the Schubert "Ave Maria" or the Holst? Is it mushrooms or extra cheese?
Choices we make in laugh haunt us. I'll have a Dirty White Mother on the rocks. Bucket glass, 1 1/2 oz brandy, 1/2 oz Kahlua, filled with cream.
96% percent baby! Or 77th percentile.
Posted by emily at 4:38 PM | Comments (0)
March 16, 2005
Smoking Up In Havana or "A la Maison Blanche"
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
sip of coffee
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
puff of a cigarette
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
why is charlie meeting with bug people?
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
way to tell and not show, maison blanche. we all needed leo and the drunken sailor, excuse me, senator to tell us the pros/cons of lifting the embargo.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
you know what? our next ficitious president may be alan alda or jimmy smits. it may be george w. bush. but castro will outlive all the bastards. explode this cigar, hemingway!
Posted by emily at 10:18 PM | Comments (0)
March 15, 2005
Tom Fenton
Just watched him on the "Daily Show." Fantastic. And it is our fault that the news blows big furry bats right now.
Posted by emily at 11:26 PM | Comments (0)
March 14, 2005
Going Down The Road Feeling Bad With Jesus and Moses and George W. Bush
Some elements of free speech are neither free nor speech. Sometimes you have to pay $2.99 at your local convenience store to plaster a pithy slogan on the back of your truck. You may think it makes a statement. You are incorrect. Nothing can be sufficiently profound and read while passing at 80 mph on the right. I have no time to gestate on these things.
Take Ricky Ricardo in the white suburban whose bumper was adorned with a familiar Biblical vision. Two stone plaques with ten Roman numerals (incorrect, there were no Romans in Moses’ time.) I take it on Ricky’s good faith that the Commandments are actually listed there. I would have caused a ten-car pile up attempting to read them. So basically, it’s two plaques with Roman numerals that could say anything. God Bless America. Feed the Pigeon. No More Garlic Mashed Potatoes.
I don’t need to be reminded not to kill people on the freeway. I believe it is the general idea. I can’t covet my neighbors wife if I’m not at home.
James Mitchner in the pickup had one of my all-time favorites. WWJD. It looked much like a W’4 sticker and you know these are the same armchair cowfuckers. Take away the sophomoric slam of the drunk frat boy “What Would Jack Daniel's do?” That’s not funny anymore.
If Jesus came back and was on the freeway, I believe he would have a heart attack. Because 80 mph is very scary to your long-dead Armenian. Never mind the radio, air-conditioning, heating, bucket seats, smooth jazz, cup-holders and windshield wipers. And then you’d bring him home and he’d stroke out, baby. Can you imagine what Jesus would think of the microwave? Fuck healing the lepers; he’d spend ten years in Circuit City trying to play catch-up.
Speaking of W’4 people, is it wrong for me to deliberately piss them off on the road? They advertised their affiliation. I’m not wrong in my response to tailgate and trap them behind a semi. They asked for fumes and rocks in their windshield; this is what a vote for Bush does.
We are a divided country. Just ask Pearl Bailey in her Malibu.
Posted by emily at 3:05 PM | Comments (0)
March 11, 2005
Fat Charlie's Art Show
First, I must tell you that the book this artwork in is published by Seven Stories Press. I was an intern there in '98-'99 and it's a fantastic small house (like nine people work there) in Tribeca. Through them, I got to meet Howard Zinn and Ralph Nader. Great people, great list.
This is the Propaganda Remix Project, which uses old WWII/Norman Rockwell/30s artwork and reworks it for our times and our message. Link to it, love it....
Now on with the show!
Posted by emily at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)
Piece #1
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Piece #2
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Piece #10
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March 9, 2005
Vice-Presidents Should Learn To Keep It In Their Pants or "A la Maison Blanche"
West Wing: You know, there's this show I really like that had this tall chick on who was klutzy, smart and saavy and this balding guy who was crusty and morose and the guy from "Apocalypse Now" played the President. I believe it was called "Sanford and Son." I wonder what ever happened to it.
Nonetheless, I likes the Mrs. Santos. I likes me some Donna kicking ass. And I like my oranges rolled in the aisle of an airplane. Dirt contains protein.
But we already know it's Hawkeye Pierce and that dude from NYPD Blue ducking it out for Bartlet's giant banana next fall. There's no suspense to the campaign episodes. It's "Titantic" baby: you know the boat's going down, why play dice with the Unsinkable Molly Brown? Who, I'm sure if there was enough water, was probably very sinkable.
And Josh Lyman is very sinkable and fuckable, but you didn't really want me to go there, did you?
Posted by emily at 11:45 PM | Comments (0)
At The Bartending College II
It is entirely possible my teacher had a heart attack in class today. Or Chest and Arm Pains is a new drink, one part rum, one part creme de cocoa.
Posted by emily at 6:27 PM | Comments (1)
March 8, 2005
At The Bartending College
Today was a red-letter day for me. Heard two Hell's Angels exchange meatloaf recipes.
Posted by emily at 9:36 PM | Comments (1)
March 6, 2005
Rant #546
I know what I'm about to say is extremely unpopular. It will get you stabbed in the wrong part of town. Men in masks come and take you away. Yada, yada, yada.... I have no disclaimers. I simply must say what I feel to be true in my heart and soul.
I do not like the common man.
No, make that, I do not want the common man to be the barometer of my country or my culture. Because he, in the last thirty or so years, has been made into a barometer. His tastes are our own social dictator.
He is driving us to ruin in his Ford truck.
Imagine a land, a country, a culture that praises the intellect. Yes, France, but we are not going there at the moment, mes petits cheeseheads americains. Science, reason, the arts, mass meeting with people discussing Kant and Hegel over cigarettes and black coffee. Yes, New York City, but sans Staten Island. (Not a true borough. You have to drive to get take-out.)
Not everyone needs to be... intellectually curious and worldly. The common man can bath in castor oil and his commonness, but he needs to leave me out of his cheddar fantasies. Me and my pinko buddies should feel free to applaud mass homosexuality and drug use; we are not inviting him to our party.
Can there not be at truce in which they stay on their side of the sandlot? And let us take things back to thirty or so years ago where we actually ran the fucking country. Because we egghead types really NEED to be running the fucking country. The Harvard intelligentsia of the sixties did shoehorn us into Vietnam. They also brought us SDS, Black Panthers, LSD and Joan Baez.
What has the new revolution brought us? "Desperate Housewives" and Paris Hilton? The 00s are just the 80s with the cocaine and Oliver Stone films. Susan Sontag is dead, my friends, and we have found nothing to replace her. There is no commentary. There is no dissent. You can't burn your draft card, bra or flag anymore, but burning books will soon be back in fashion. I read it in "US" magazine.
You red, red, red motherfuckers out there in that vast middle.... I'm not about to rip down your gold crucifix. Please continue with your "Christian Rock." But you cannot be running this thing anymore, because you have no idea who Emile Zola is or what "J'accuse" means and you're scared of it, either way. America to you is a flag, a Bible, a gun and the misguided notion that you will someday be rich. America to me is a complex system of interwoven cultures and beliefs, guided by a document, transforming, mutating, growing. You are turning in into a one-man band dancing towards the beer truck. J'accuse!
Stay in the church. Huddle in your pews. Look away from the light. We'll let you do what it is that you've always done. Enlightenment is not for everyone and we well understood this after the sixties. The sixties, when we tried to open your hearts to great fantamatastagoria China Cat Sunflower out there being held hostage by the man. You voted for Richard Nixon instead. Sometimes the crime punishes itself.
But you have to let us take over. We will improve network television. We will make sure you get your daily bread. We won't give your children condoms, but they know all they have to do is ask. We will be reading "The Brothers K." in class. Let freedom ring.
Posted by emily at 11:34 PM | Comments (1)
And Again With The End of The World
Fat Charlie would like to direct all you science heads out there to this site (one of my favorites on a Sunday afternoon):
And tell me if some of his science is credible. Especially the hologram one.
Posted by emily at 4:47 PM | Comments (0)
I'm Not A Funny Person, Therefore I Must Out-Source
"I wouldn't give my troubles to a monkey on a rock."
David Letterman
"President Bush says he needs a month off to unwind. Unwind? When the hell does this guy wind?"
David Letterman
"USA Today has come out with a new survey - apparently, three out of every four people make up 75% of the population."
David Letterman
"We can all sleep easy at night knowing that somewhere, at any given time, the Foo Fighters are out there fighting Foo!"
David Letterman
"If life gives you lemons, make some kind of fruity juice."
Conan O'Brien
"President Clinton signed a $10 million deal to write a book by 2003. Isn't that amazing? Yes, and get this, not only that, President Bush signed a $10 million deal to read a book by 2003. "
Conan O'Brien
"Yesterday, the president met with a group he calls the coalition of the willing. Or, as the rest of the world calls them, Britain and Spain."
Jon Stewart
"I feel your scorn and I accept it."
Jon Stewart
"How can I believe in God when just last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?"
Woody Allen
"I'm very proud of my gold pocket watch. My grandfather, on his deathbed, sold me this watch."
Woody Allen
"Nietzsche says that we will live the same life, over and over again. God - I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again."
Woody Allen
"Not only is there no God, but try finding a plumber on Sunday."
Woody Allen
"Sex between 2 people is a beautiful thing; between 5 it's fantastic."
Woody Allen
"There are worse things in life than death. Have you ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman?"
Woody Allen
"Thought: Why does man kill? He kills for food. And not only food: frequently there must be a beverage."
Woody Allen
"What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet."
Woody Allen
"OK, so what's the speed of dark?"
Steven Wright
"Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy."
Steven Wright
"Join the Army, meet interesting people, kill them."
Steven Wright
"Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."
Steven Wright
"You can't have everything. Where would you put it?"
Steven Wright
"A lot of people are afraid of heights. Not me, I'm afraid of widths."
Steven Wright
"I'm moving to Mars next week, so if you have any boxes... "
Steven Wright
"I like to go to art museums and name the untitled paintings...Boy With Pail... Kitten On Fire."
Steven Wright
"I went to a restaurant that serves "breakfast at any time". So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance."
Steven Wright
"All God's children are not beautiful. Most of God's children are, in fact, barely presentable."
Fran Lebowitz
"There is no such thing as inner peace. There is only nervousness or death. Any attempt to prove otherwise constitutes unacceptable behavior."
Fran Lebowitz
"As a teenager you are at the last stage in your life when you will be happy to hear that the phone is for you."
Fran Lebowitz
"Don't bother discussing sex with small children. They rarely have anything to add."
Fran Lebowitz
Posted by emily at 1:40 AM | Comments (0)
March 5, 2005
The Talent of Aaron McGruder
Neophytes, one and all! Put down the "Garfield" and forget about that bitch "Cathy." Charles Schulz is dead.
Posted by emily at 1:51 PM | Comments (0)
March 3, 2005
Frank Rich: You Must Read Him, You Must, You Must, You Must
I say put him back on op/ed, although that would mean bumping either Dowd or Krugman and I love those two too much to do that. ("The Great Unraveling" or "Bushworld", anyone?) Anyway, he's my favorite Times columnist. What, you thought I'd pick Safire or Freidman?
By the way, I believe yesterday they named John Tierney to replace Safire. He wrote the "Worst Case Scenario" handbook. And there could have been a worse case; I had nightmares of William Kristol or George Will. Does anyone understand George Will's columns? And the bowties are just lame....
Anyway, Frank Rich, my hero... a great new column.
(I routed it through commondreams, in case any of you aren't automatically signed in with NYTimes.com)
Posted by emily at 5:12 PM | Comments (0)
Deborah Harry Speaks Of The Apocalypse
Some ponder the works of Bob Dylan. "We always feel the same we just sell it from a different point of view." Heads like myself dig on the Robert Hunter wordplay. "One man gathers what another man spills." David Byrne spouts of a few good lines. "We are vain and we are blind." Tom Waits is a man all to himself. "And you can't find your waitress with a Geiger counter."
It may be the moldy grapes, but note how Blondie song titles all spell a certain doom. "Atomic" may be a reference an explosive lover. She may have been thinking of that hot Latino in the leather jacket across the dance floor. But a deeper reading suggests that she was thinking nukes. Note: "You're hair is beautiful." A simple line. Maybe she's being seductive. But maybe she's saying that you have beautiful hair and it's all going to fucking fall out when Russia pops the big one in our laps. It was the seventies, people were concerned about these things.
"The Tide Is High." Yeah, we've seen that on the news the past few months. Debbie, you couldn't have left the discotheque and told all those poor people in Thailand before this happened? Apparently, you are the kind of girl who gives up just like that. "I'm going to be your number one." Before last December, Average Joe thought Tsunami was the green stuff that goes with Sushi. Now he's moving to Kansas 'cause you never know with this feisty planet earth business. So, Tide Is High, I guess you are our number one now. Congrats and try not to do that again, or at least do it to countries that annoy me. Like Orange County, CA.
The mother of all of this...this... complete crap is "Rapture." Fat Charlie knows you watch "The Daily Show" and knows you saw that piece on rapture e-mails. The Rapture literally makes "meek shall inherit the earth" Christians millions. Web sites, books, napkin holders and Happy Meal toys. But when the Rapture comes, they won't be able to enjoy that fucking money, will they? It's all-right, though. Us fine sinners will still be on earth listening to "Fat fine Freddy told me everybody's high." High in heaven, that is. Debbie tells us that there is "Twenty-four hour shopping In Rapture." Especially in Christian bookstores, since the owners will be chowing with Pope Urban up in Neverland. Is shopping your concern during the apocalypse? If your answer is yes, you are not only a Christian but you are a Christian capitalist and you should just go home.
Please, Debbie, write a song called "Oil Crisis" and I'll be praising your manna in Shangri-La.
Posted by emily at 12:59 AM | Comments (0)
March 2, 2005
Mmm... Canadian Bacon or "A la Maison Blanche"
West Wing: Canada invading!! Children voting!! Show sucking!!
I found Santos sitting on Donna mildly entertaining. The plots with Bartlet and his Japanese nemesis, Toby and the booblickins, Kate Harper and a bunch of rednecks.... well, I think they were playing "Operation Petticoat" on TCM. I'm all for multi-plots, but in order to juggle, all the balls need to stay in the air. Otherwise, you're just dropping your balls.
Speaking of dropping balls, shouldn't Cliff Calley and Josh be, like, a bit more, I don't know, hateful towards each other? Josh hits Toby, yet spreads the stem-cell vote love with young Mr. I've-Read-Your-Love-Interest's-Diary?
Ack! You know what would have rocked? Instead of making the Nobel dude Japanese, make him Latino and have Ricardo Montalban play him. Play him exactly like Khan. Now that's an hour full of gobsmacking fine chocolate sauce.
Posted by emily at 10:48 PM | Comments (0)
Strangers In The Night, Exchanging Glances...
But will we still be in love twenty years from now? Or will the bloom fall off the rose, petals scattered in the wind? Ah, blood is thinner then oil. But money beats them both in a fistfight. As Pete Seeger put it, where have all the flowers gone?
Posted by emily at 3:30 AM | Comments (0)
Wond’ring In The Night, What Were The Chances
But will we still be in love twenty years from now? Or will you have died on the crapper?
Posted by emily at 3:29 AM | Comments (0)
We'd Be Sharing Love, Before The Night Is Through
I now know where the flowers have gone.
Posted by emily at 3:27 AM | Comments (0)
March 1, 2005
Head Alert 2!
Again, for Fat Charlie's benefit, more Dead news.
They have uploaded most of the Dick's Picks series onto the iMusic store, along with several of the Vault recordings. The albums are cheaper then they are at GD.com, but you can't EVER seem to find a whole one that they'll let you download. But etree does not carry a show if the Dead have released it to CD, so some classics will have to be purchased. I love ya, Dick Latavala, but really!
Posted by emily at 3:55 PM | Comments (0)
Indiana: They Came To The Party Late, But At Least They Brought Cabbage Rolls
It looks like Indiana may be leaping into the 1940s by actually making Daylight Savings mandatory statewide. Indiana will also be requiring it's citizens to eat shellfish twice a week and bath in milk once a month. It's always been known as the party state.
Posted by emily at 12:45 AM | Comments (1)