September 2004 Archives

Whatever you do, don't read this. It's...it's horrible.

you: I have to put the cat to sleep.
me: why?
you: he's leaving the dentist's poop all over the house.
me: how does he get the dentist's poop?
you: I give it to him.
she: why?
me: yeah, why?
you: because he's bored. he needs something to play with.
she: but how do you know it's the dentist's poop?
you: I am the dentist.

Am I the only one
freaked out by all
these blind people?

Taking our jobs -- ?
our women -- ?
our German Sheperds?

Tonight in his sleep, Sam said:
"He wants a chocolate Gogurt
and to fight bad guys."

He said it a couple of times.
Always like that -- in the third-person.
And then he fell back asleep.

And I say:
Congratulations!
Enemies of evil!

Congratulations!
Gogurt people!
International chocolate conspiracy!

You own part of my child's brain.

He wasn't very smart,
or very rich,
or very successful.

But he was six-foot-three.

And at parties, he would
slide up silent
behind his smarter, richer,
more successful,
better-looking friends.

Head to head.
Back to back.

And hang out for a while.

A little shpiel about our wide-eyed President and how he maybe trusts just a little too much, here.

He said we're longing for a simpler time
something easy
refreshing
familiar
a malt shop.

He said the polyester backlash
   is still 
   in progress.

Monkey Vortex Radio Theater is back with an all-new segment: Hell's a Poppins! Featuring the MVRT script debut of Eileen Dahl and the MVRT acting debut of Heather Gottschalk plus, the inspirational return of Bill "King" Cassel in this, his most challenging role yet. You will believe a boy can fly!

Note: Although that last part -- the part about you? believing a boy can fly? -- although it doesn't really have much to do with Hell's a Poppins, nonetheless, I think it's true.

Which is weird. Of you.
To believe.

Such a thing.

Last night I saw
the best argument
for 6 billion of us.

A musician so talented.

You don't get one so talented

if there are 600 of us.
Or 60 million.

You need really big numbers.

So maybe that''s why.

Or at least that's why it's OK sometimes.

For example: 
       Last night.

A post-apocalyptic romantic comedy.
You know, like, it's the big first date
and he's all wigged out
because he doesn't know if
the girl's a girl
or if she's
a flesh-eating zombie.

Starring Mathew Broderick.
And introducing: a flesh-eating zombie.

The hallways smell like paper and scissors and elmer's glue 
and parents 
roaming around
inspecting the tile

quietly comparing notes 
amid sneaker skid 
   boom.

This is America. 
We come here from different countries, from different cultures. 

We speak different languages. 
But there are two words we all understand.

And those words are:
   "multipurpose room."

There was music there. Musicality, I like to think. And there was a little guitar. And enthusiasm. "Say! Say! Say!"

And there was that kid, that funky funky kid -- and that unusual groove. What was her deal? It like she was clear-channeling.

And then there was the last one. The one who seemed to understand it all. He summed things up. He broke things down. And the rest of us just tried to keep pace.

Me? Me I'm still not sure. Of anything. Ever. Except this: we call it Zibby Zabble. Because really, what else could we call it?

Press Play to play.

playtime: gone in 25 seconds
file specs: a scant 400K

Another day at the RNC, and another post over on Edgewise. Today's topic: how George Bush gave the greatest speech of his life. And how he's still gonna lose. Read all about it, here

Over on Edgewise, a pair of reactions to last night's RNC festivities:

• A somewhat strained attempt to explain away the unusual behavior of one Zell Miller, here
• Meanwhile, it's Mr. Happy Head!, here
  

"This is better than some lollipops I know."

Some thoughts about Tuesday night's Republican Nation Convention (with micro-commentary on Arnold, the twins, Laura, and GWB's cameo), all found on ye olde Edgewise, right over here.