imkittymyers at hotmail dot com
Saturday, January 17, 2004
“SOMETHING EVIL’S LURKING”
I haven’t had much of a reaction concerning Michael Jackson, not really. It was more of a so-what attitude with each report of another new face/color/oddity, another new charge. I chalk my nonchalance up to seeing him squirm his way out of everything thus far.
Then yesterday something in me snapped. The proverbial straw was seeing this middle-aged manipulative monster strut into the courtroom late, as though he ruled the world. Instead of his Peter Pan or his creepy Bette Davis persona, it was Mr. Thriller himself who had come a’callin’. “'Cause This Is Thriller, Thriller Night And No One's Gonna Save You From The Beast About Strike”
As usual, he wasn’t alone; his entourage of flunkies, flea-brains and muscle were in tow. Most of the Jackson family was there, as well, because Jacko, along with sister Janet, are the only ones making the real money to support all of them.
It was the strut that did it for me … his strut and his indignant glare at the authorities just doing their jobs. So when I heard that the judge chastised him for holding up the proceedings ... "Mr. Jackson, you have started out on the wrong foot with me. ... I will not put up with that. It's an insult to the court." ... I clenched my fist and thought, Fry, you freak! May you land in a cramped cell for the rest of your pathetic life without your makeup, without your wigs, without your skin bleaching pills and your voice-altering hormones, without your facemask and without your nose. Without all the accouterments you employ to morph into the super star/waif-like victim/Peter Pan-wannbe. Nothing more than a middle-aged black man, with a freaky face, who molests little boys.
I logged online this morning looking for Kitty Litter material, yet all I can think about is Jacko. He’s not crazy/insane. He’s not out of touch. He’s not stupid, regardless of yesterday's circus. No, he is utterly VILE. He’s also calculating and devious and VILE.
There are some who believe that this is a version of the movie “Presumed Innocent,” yet it’s more like “Primal Fear.” Two great films; if you haven’t seen them, you should. Then let me know which one reminds you of Jacko.
Friday, January 16, 2004
GREETINGS FROM VARYKINO
Remember the movie “Dr. Zhivago,” about the ill-fated love affair between Omar Shariff and Julie Christie during the Russian Revolution? Near the end of the movie, they find temporary refuge in the country estate called Varykino (var-EE-KEE-no). It’s winter, and the once exquisite place, which has been vacant, is an ice palace … literally … resembling a lavishly decorated tiered wedding cake iced with crystals and snow drifts. It is here where Yury Zhivago (Omar Shariff) pens his famous poem, “Lara” (Julie Christie), with frozen fingers, a quill pen, a single candle and a burning passion for the pouty-lipped Christie, asleep nearby, while the wolves howl outside in the moonlight. A mounting crescendo of violins brings the chic-flick moment to the Big O, metaphorically speaking.
So here I sit in Varykino, or in this case, a humble 6-room dwelling which feels like Varykino. Filling in for Zhivago is DogMan, who resembles him now that he has a beard (BLECH!). Instead of writing a poem entitled “Kitty,” he’s pouring his passion into doing the daily crossword puzzle. I, of course, am Lara since I am always being mistaken for a young Julie Christie. His four German Shepherds are outside entertaining our thrilled neighbors. No violins. No Big O moment. Just frostbite.
The author Olivia Goldsmith died yesterday after being in a coma for eight days. She’s most famous for writing “First Wives Club,” which I never read. I did read “The Bestseller,” which was a fictionalized account of the publishing business. I bought the book because of its book jacket; it pictured a bogus NYT bestseller list, with her book as #1. But the Times objected to it, so the reference to the NYT bestseller list was obliterated on the jackets of future printings. I guess they decided not to try to pull the books which had already been printed and distributed … 50,000 of ‘em. I bought one of those, which means, I may have a collector’s item. Olivia wrote great escapism for women, and she was definitely too young to die. She had just finished two other books, “Dumping Billy” and “Casting Off.” By the way, I loved “The Bestseller.”
George Neumayr, in The American Spectator, discovered some major equivocating by the doctor in People Magazine, of all places. Who knew People would actually do some probing of a major candidate? (I wish I could claim that nickname for Dean, but that was just another gem from Lucianne Goldberg. Her wit leaves me pea-green with envy.)
IGNOREZ LES FRANCAIS!
Apparently, Americans have been staying out of Paris, if not France. Hmmmm, wonder why? Could it be that the tres gauche cheese-eating surrender monkeys have always treated us like something scraped off a barn boot? I don’t mind telling you that I took great comfort when reading Cindy Adams’ column today, especially when she wrote “there's only maybe three other visiting Americans in not-so-gay Paris. Everything's on sale.”
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Button up your overcoat
when the wind is free.
Take good care of yourself,
because a lot of welfare recipients depend upon you.
Huh? Hobbit chic … the latest fashion from Milan. Y’gotta see it to believe it.
There are two articles today, which, to me at least, are absolutely enormous. The first one is The Children’s Hour, by Jay Currie, in The American Spectator. It distinguishes between the two factions of the Democratic Party … the “kids” (the various far-flung party activists) and the “adults” (primarily the Clintons et al) … and how they are planning on winning the election … the one in 2008.
The second article is Hispanics: Key To GOP’s Future, by Dick Morris in the NY Post. “PRESIDENT Bush's immigration/amnesty proposal will probably be remembered in history as the idea that saved a political party.” ‘Nuff said.
I find these articles, juxtaposed as they are in my mind, significant in that they both talk about how the two parties are looking to their respective futures with visions that underscore how they view people. Simply put: the Dems are totally manipulative and trust no one, while the Repubs are far more trusting than manipulative.
I CAN IF I WANT TO!
Algore’s handlers are probably throwing up their hands in utter despair by now, not to mention just plain throwing up. The Dems’ very own earth-toned dufus is set to once again to warn us all of global warming. Which just begs the question: Which is the higher number, the wind chill factor in New England or Algore’s IQ? And Algore’s reaction.
SPEAKING OF THE COLD …
THIS JUST IN FROM TEXAS: A scientist from Texas A&M University has invented a bra that keeps women's breasts from jiggling and prevents the nipples from pushing through the fabric when cold weather sets in. At a news conference announcing the invention, the scientist was taken outside by a large group of cowboys who kicked the shit out of him.
GET THE LEAD OUT
Subject: Ball Point Pen
When NASA first started sending up astronauts, they quickly discovered that ball-point pens would not work in 0 gravity. To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and $12 billion developing a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside down, underwater, on almost any surface including glass and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300 C.
The Russians used a pencil.
Our tax dollar$ hard at work once again.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
ENTER BLAKE ASHBY (STAGE RIGHT)
Who is Blake and why should we care? According to Shawn Macomber in The American Spectator, Ashby is “the least odd of the nine no-name Republican candidates challenging Bush here in New Hampshire.” Bush has NINE challengers? Who knew?
GUMBO MUMBO JUMBO
Also in the irreverent The American Spectator this morning is Sex, War & Money. “Who really likes which? James Carville, for one, doesn’t have a clue.” Take heart all red-staters, and brace yourself, Slappy, but “pornography consumption per capita is higher in the blue states won by Al Gore and that population growth is higher in the red states won by Bush. I'd say that means Republicans are doing the real thing and that Democrats need to get over their pie-in-the-sky utopias, same as in economics,” writes Ralph Reiland. His article includes other gems, like Dennis Kucinich’s peace plan is “to enable the Goddess of Peace to encircle within her arms all the children of this country and all the children of the world.”
GLUE GUN GODDESS
I am not embarrassed to admit that I like Martha Stewart, that I used to watch her show, and that I used to subscribe to her magazine. I also love all those Martha Stewart parody greeting cards, which Nurse G and I give to each other whenever possible. I am not one of those fanatics, who worship at the Glue Gun Goddess’s feet, but she is extremely creative and I love her ideas. At the risk of sounding like a feminist, I think MS is getting shafted. Linda Stasi at the NY POST agrees.
ONE CAN HOPE
Blue sent the following:
A co-worker sent this to me - I don't know her source (i.e. I can't verify its accuracy, unfortunately - it would make a great blog post!)
FM 100.7 (a local radio station) was doing one of their "is anyone listening" bits this morning. The first one was, "Ever have a celebrity pull the 'Do you know who I am' routine?"
A woman called in and said that a few years back, while visiting her cattle rancher uncle in Billings, MT, they had occasion to go to dinner at a restaurant that does not take reservations. The wait was about 45 minutes. Lots of other rancher types and their spouses were already waiting. In come Ted Turner and Jane Fonda. They want a table. The hostess says they'll have to wait about 45 minutes. Jane Fonda asks the hostess if she knows who she is.
"Yes, but you'll still have to wait 45 minutes."
Then Jane says, "Is the manager in?
The manager comes out, "May I help you?"
"Do you know who I am?" ask both Jane and Ted.
"Yes, but these folks have all been waiting already, and I can't put you in ahead of them."
Then Ted asks to speak to the owner. The owner comes out. Jane again asks, "Do you know who I am?"
The owner says, "Yes, I do. Do you know who I am? I am the owner of this restaurant and a Vietnam Veteran. Not only will you not get a table ahead of all of my friends and neighbors here, but you also will not be eating in my restaurant tonight or any other night. Good bye."
. . .Wonder why Ted isn't with Jane anymore? He would rather eat, maybe!! . . .
Only in America, what a great country!
Keep passing this on. We never forget the unprosecuted traitor!
And let's not forget what "our gal" Hillary said to the troops in Iraq!!! "This war has no support from the American public"
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE ON A BILLION:
If you put a billion dollars under your mattress (so to speak), not earning any interest at all, you can spend a million dollars a month for 83 years before you ran out!!!
On the other hand, it would take 83 years to earn a billion dollars if your salary was a million a month and it didn't earn money in investments.
Bill Gates was worth 100 billion when his stock was at it's peak!! Wow!
WINTER? WHAT WINTER?
This picture was on the front page of our local paper. Just in case the link has been timed out, it's a picture of an older guy brushing the snow off his truck (in Oneonta, NY), and he's naked to the waist and wearing shorts and open sandals! The strange thing is, he's also wearing gloves! If the weather doesn't bother him, why bother with the gloves? Here's the link for the article.
“BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE THE MONEY IS.”
(Willy Sutton, when asked why he robbed banks.)
It was also the reason Eddie Murphy’s crooked character ran for Congress in the ’92 movie, “The Distinguished Gentleman” … because that’s where the money is. So, the next time you hear a politician use the words "billion" casually, think about whether you want that politician spending your tax money. A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency did a good job of putting that figure into perspective in one of its releases:
*A billion seconds ago, it was 1959.
*A billion minutes ago, Jesus was alive.
*A billion hours ago, our ancestors were living in the Stone Age.
*A billion dollars ago was only 8 hours and 20 minutes, at the rate Washington spends it.
The Democrats are complaining on how long the war was is taking but consider this:
*It took less time to take Iraq than it took Janet Reno to take the Branch Davidian compound. That was a 51-day operation.
*It took less time to find Saddam's sons in Iraq than it took Hillary Clinton to find the Rose Law Firm billing records.
*It took less time for the 3rd Infantry Division and the Marines to destroy the Medina Republican Guard than it took Teddy Kennedy to call the police after his Oldsmobile sunk at Chappaquiddick.
*It took less time to take Iraq than it took to count the votes in Florida!
Damn, our military is GREAT!
ANOTHER USE FOR REYNOLDS WRAP
Did you hear about the guy whose apartment, and everything he owned, was wrapped in tin foil?
"OLYMPIA, Wash. -- Chris Kirk found his downtown Olympia apartment encased in aluminum foil when he returned home Monday night from a trip to Los Angeles. The walls, ceiling, cabinets and everything in between shimmered, after the prank orchestrated by Kirk's longtime friend, Luke Trerice, 26, who was staying in the apartment while Kirk was away. (01/06/04 AP photo)"
Monday, January 12, 2004
I AM, THEREFORE I WRITE
I’m a writer; at least I like to think of myself as one. I did sell an op-ed piece to USA TODAY in October of ’92. It was about censorship in political campaigns. But that was the only money I ever earned by writing. I really wanted to write fiction. It would have been nice to actually earn a buck or two writing fiction, but I was willing to settle just to get something of mine published. And I did, on January 4, 2000, on an online zine called zinos.com. No money, you understand, but here’s my first piece of published fiction, “Good Buy, Charlie” (a mere 597 words). But that was the extent of my publishing luck.
Then I got a paying job.
For five and a half years, I used to sell shoes at a Dexter Factory Outlet Store, until the company mercifully closed the store last October. As much as we needed the slave-wages work, Boss, Short Stop and I were languishing there, wasting our talents. We had become complacent, so the closing was actually a blessing in disguise, the Gods telling us that we could be/should be doing better. Besides, I truly hate standing on the other side of the counter. So, I decided to give writing another go.
At the end of the writing process, and quite often in-between, I need a decent printer. Our old one clanked-clanked-clanked laboriously through each page, line by painful line. Yesterday, I had HAD IT! So, off to Staples I went. DogMan didn’t want to go, so I was on my own to buy something electronic, something way too technical for me. But I walked right in and, without much hesitation, I bought the first one that looked nice, an HP Deskjet 5150. Okay, I will admit that I had one criterion: a high dpi resolution. It’s the only tech thingie I kinda understand. Of course, DogMan had to hook it up, which he accomplished with great frustration peppered with colorful prose. This morning he laughed about it as he pointed out the Cathy cartoon strip. “Yup! That’s me!” he said.
Ahhhhhh, but this new printer is heavenly, if I may be so prosaic. Whisper soft in its operation. Faster than a speeding train, even printing color pictures! I’m in love!
Of course, now I’ll have no more excuses for not writing. There’s always a catch, isn’t there.
THE PIED PIPER OF THE PERIPHERY …
The American Spectator has shipped Shawn Macomber to New Hampshire to cover the scene leading up to the state’s primary. Without trying, his reports have been hysterical, and today’s installment, Deaniacs.com, is no exception. He highlights the various and varied factions behind the Dean movement. Wanna know who’ll be pulling the doc’s lever? For starters, try Punx for Dean (your basic spikey-haired headbangers), or Crushies for Dean (for those who have non-political yearnings for him), and Dykes for Dean (NOT for straight women and gay men). I mean, with material like this who needs a joke writer?
HOT TEMPER NOT COOL
I suppose the Crushies for Dean will be scarfing up pictures of their fave hottie displaying his flaring nostrils, but chastising a 66-year-old guy for asking that the hateful rhetoric be toned down is not a smart pre-primary move.
ANN COULTER ON A RIP
But when isn’t she? Which is why I adore her. To wit: “Yes, of course liberalism is a mental defect. Liberals are wracked by self-loathing as the result of some traumatic incident -- say, driving drunk off a bridge with your mistress passed out in the back seat and letting the poor girl drown because you're a married man and a U.S. senator, just to take one utterly random, hypothetical example off the top of my head.” Don’t ever change, Ann!
“Less sex, more talk drive down teen births.” Another media no-brainer of a headline.
ABSTENENCE WORKS EVERY TIME
No sex please is an article about the success of the younger generation in the UK taking chastity pledges. Interesting article, which compares the messages of Clinton and Bush. Talk about no-brainers!
Sunday, January 11, 2004
SCRAPPLEFACE is a great blog of satire. Today's headlines:
* O'Neill: Bush Ruined Clinton Plan to Oust Saddam
* Clark Will Protect America, Read Her Bedtime Stories
* Saddam Status Upgraded to P.O.W. from C.O.W
* Dean: The Lord Told Me Bush Wins in 'Blowout'
* Al Gore Inspired Lottery Loser Lady to Come Clean
"CONCEIT IS GOD'S GIFT TO LITTLE MEN"
Bush fired Paul O’Neil because he couldn’t do his job as Treasury Sec., and now the baby is “accusing” Bush of planning the Iraqi invasion within minutes into his administration. Well, thank GOD he did! It’s old news that Clinton knew WMDs were over there, yet he did nothing. Childish O’Neil’s only objective is to get back at Bush. The irony is, O’Neil is calling attention to Bush being prudent and wise from the very beginning. Joke’s on you, O’Neil, you bitter baby.
FROSTY DAYS, FLANNEL NIGHTS
At least something can get my blood going. It’s been between –10* to –20* the past couple of nights. Frost, and even some ice, on the INSIDE windows in the mornings, even with storm windows closed. Yesterday, the mercury didn’t hit 0* until about noon, so I waited to start my ’93 Blazer until then. It turned over … thank you JEEEE-zus! … then I inched it into the sun and left it running to warm up. Yesterday reached 8*; today should reach 30*. However, with the warmer temperatures comes the snow.
I really don’t mind the winter. Boss gave me a bread loaf-sized bag filled with dried corn; at least it smells like corn. I nuke it for 2+ minutes and take it to bed with me. We have flannel sheets, a blanket and two quilts on our bed, not to mention 2 of our 3 cats. The 3rd sleeps on my dresser, sometimes on the radiator. Soanyways … At bedtime, I nuke the bag and place it between the flannels to warm the bed while I brush my teeth and whatnot. Then I carefully slip into bed, with one cat nestling against my legs and the other on my pillow. I pull out my current reading material … right now it’s “So Many Books, So Little Time” by Sara Nelson … and fall asleep. (Great book, btw!) The room is cool, the bed is warm; I sleep like a baby. I don’t get this kind of rest in the summer. Too friggin’ humid!
MEMO TO Slappy: TAKE THE TEST!