Also, I like The Eels now.

I just thought you should know.

And here's Mr. Eels Guy's funny fake advice column.

Cat Town

I know people are probably making fun of you, Cat Town, but I won't. Stand proudly, with your ALL CAPS text, oh mighty Cat Town.

Cat Town Cat Town Cat Town

[link liberated from various places]

I know. I haven't been posting anything.

I could say that I was on vacation, which I wasn't. Not really. Unless you count a three-day weekend. And who counts that, really?

I mean, I seldom post anything on the weekends anyway. Is there a reason for this? Is there some magical forcefield shaped like the Treetot Treehouse that prevents me from approaching my computer on Saturday or Sunday?

Yes. Yes there is.

But apart from all that, the fact remains that I have no real excuse for not posting to my blog. I even have little post-it notes piled up at my desk with cryptic communiques reading "WAK UP", "BOB DER BILDER" and "PIRA".

What do these notes mean? It's beyond me.

The fact is that I am entirely to blame. There were even a couple of days during this, our period of silence, the difficult part of our relationship, communication-wise, that I stared at the keyboard, smirked, and went back to playing Soul Calbur II in a purely desultory fashion.

Also, I am solely to blame for California's energy problems. It was just me and a 1982 Sears toaster-oven.

Sorry.

Shiver me timbers!

I almost forgot that today is Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Of course, everyone will be talking like a pirate all day, so I suggest branching out in new directions, such as talking like the saucy cabin boy who keeps the pirates' Rogers jolly on long sea voyages, or perhaps like a pirate who has been socialized into modern society but still allows his inner pirate out every now and then when he is at his most pensive and soul-searching.

Recommended activity: count people's teeth in your office and say appreciatively: "Arr, this one'll fetch a pretty penny at Long Farthing's Potluck Luncheon!", or "Haul 'im up the mizzen mast, lively now, this one's got the gingivitis!"

For extra credit points, get Scurvy or The Gout.

For extra Extra credit points, amputate your hand/leg/buttock and replace with a prosthetic replica of less than stellar quality.

There comes a point when you realize you're not on the cutting edge anymore. You have ceased to represent the demographic for which exotic vodka coolers are crafted. This struck me with sudden and inevitable clarity just now as I looked at wardrobe choice for today and heard the music I had put on for a Thursday morning:

Dockers + The Gap + Tears for Fears = The juggernaut triumverate of cool.

Things fall apart.

Meet Me In Heaven
Johnny Cash

We saw houses falling from the sky
Where the mountains lean down to the sand
We saw blackbirds circling 'round an old castle keep
And I stood on the cliff and held your hand

We walked troubles brooding wind swept hills
And we loved and we laughed the pain away
At the end of the journey, when our last song is sung
Will you meet me in Heaven someday

(Chorus) Can't be sure of how's it's going to be
When we walk into the light across the bar
But I'll know you and you'll know me
Out there beyond the stars

We've seen the secret things revealed by God
And we heard what the angels had to say
Should you go first, or if you follow me
Will you meet me in Heaven someday

Living in a mansion on the streets of gold
At the corner of Grace and Rapture Way I
In sweet ecstasy while the ages roll
Will you meet me in Heaven someday

In sweet ecstasy while the ages roll
Will you meet in Heaven someday

Johnny Cash was my hero in a lot of ways, and maybe in his death too. He loved his wife with a beautiful perfection, and lived for her. I thought when she died he would not tarry long behind her, and this morning he went to meet her.

There will be so many eulogies, I would not be able to do any justice for a man I didn't know apart from his music, but the world is a poorer place for his loss.

But still, we have the music.

BBC Article

Man. Some of the spam I get! Doesn't anyone have sex with anything normal anymore?

I guess it must make the 4H meetings more entertaining though.

My friend Timmychanga of the huge and giant-sized pectoral muscles has started a blog! Go read it with all speed and dispatch, and you will learn:

when it comes to possums and squirrels, no man i know spends more time planning and plotting against them* as the one i call dad. my dad has many fruit trees in his backyard. and every year, i'd know exactly when harvest seasons for the different fruits would be, because all my dad talks about is his latest theory on why the squirrels have it in for him. such as mocking him by taking only one rodent-sized bite out of perfectly good apricots and leaving the rest on the ground for him to find. and do you know what he does in retaliation? he captured one in a cage and left him in the yard all day, 'as an example', in case any other 'four-leggers' were still of the mind to commit crimes against his fructose-bearing prizes.

I've been watching the U.S. Open tennis tournament over the last few days, and I can tell you by far the most exciting match was Justine Henin-Hardenne, the spritely and spry Belgian against lumbering behemoth and ex-glue-sniffer Jennifer Capriati.

Have you seen this woman? She looks like the love child of Lou Ferrigno and Tyne Daly.

OK, maybe that was unkind, but it was great to see David beat Goliath. Henin-Hardenne just seemed mentally tougher, and held it together when Capriati couldn't close out the match.

Is there a lesson in the giant, pumped-up American being felled by the tiny, strategic European? Probably not, but maybe it's at least an argument that tennis isn't all about power and looking like Glenn Danzig.

Do San Francisco mayoral candidates dream of electric sheep?

I have been hard at work for a few days in the think tank, cooking up a barnburner of a theory: I believe there has been a serious paradigm shift in the last few years, with the old standard order of "Ernie and Bert" being replaced by its polar opposite "Bert and Ernie". Bert has grown in notoriety while Ernie has become a tragic and marginalized figure.

A quick Google search reveals the depth of the swing into the Bert camp in recent years:

The sad numbers
"bert and ernie": 19,300 Google results
"ernie and bert": 6,740 Google results

Yeah, I hear some of you out there, saying "But I always said Bert and Ernie!"

That's fine, but you need to accept that this is wrong. Perhaps you are simply unable to remember a simpler, more carefree time, when Ernie came first:

Official "Ernie and Bert" video You will notice that in this video cover, the order is clearly "Ernie" and then "Bert".
Wikipedia entry for "Ernie and Bert". Tellingly, there is no "Bert and Ernie" entry.
Ernie and Bert Flag Once again, no "Bert and Ernie" Flag.

There now.

I say it's time for a return to Ernie. A return to a time when this country valued the gregarious, good-natured, disturbingly furry young man who lived with his peculiarly pineapple-headed friend in what was debatably a platonic relationship.

I mean think about it: It's a choice between pigeons and rubber duckies, between bottlecaps and tweedlebugs. Well, I know for a fact that Dangerously Insane Person Mike Tyson keeps pigeons because I saw it on FOX, so that's a pretty clear vote for rubber ducky. And everyone loves the tweedlebugs, whereas bottlecaps are relatively inanimate, don't make cute noises and patently do not have their own complex society in a windowbox, now do they?

Ernie is charming, what with his wacky antics and Muttley-style snigger. Bert, frankly, is repressed and sounds like the horn on an '84 Chevy Cavalier.

So please, join me and let's make ERNIE FIRST! a reality.



Somewhat related: Bert and Ernie Call It Quits
Unnervingly Exhaustive Ernie & Bert Sketch List