Treason!

Now I know why other countries hate us!

First we offer up 2 servings of George W.
Then we dish out this??

How can America succeed in stemming the tide of ill-will when we dump this shit on the world, without so much as a warning? People were upset about the Valdez oil spill...what about this toxic waste?

With so many options to choose from, this is what they came up with? What, did Samantha Fox cancel at the last minute and LaToya wasn't available?

You know, it serves NBC right that they should wallow away in crappy ratings- apparently they signed some deal with the devil Sylar and now they are paying for it! And I'm not referring to Seasons 2 and 3 of "Heroes"!

The Bahama's should sue for slander because this "performance" shenanigan violates their motto, "it's better in the Bahama's" something fierce!

Testing my patience

For a society that, on the whole, seems to abhor anything close to standardized testing (whether it be the SAT's, ACT's, IQ, blood, who's your daddy, Chlamydia, or emergency broadcasting systems) there sure are a helluva lot of tests you can take on Facebook- and people are not only taking them, but they are sharing their answers with everyone...and thinking you should take the same tests too!

How keen is it that the city we both should live in is Phoenix (ouch, that hurts!)
or that my closest "Sex in the City" persona is Carrie (yeah, we type about the same number of words per minute) or if I were a superhero I'd be the Flash (the red spandex and spanx are quite fetching!)?

Maybe it is because I was that "one of those" people who rather enjoyed taking tests through out school that I have such a disdain for the random crap that is such malarkey and has no foot in reality or value. "Like I'm really closest to Julie on the Love Boat" and my best pet should be a turtle"!

So the latest, and close to lamest, test to wander down the pike has to be, "If you were a Jonas Brother, which would you be?" I quickly answered, "the one without the ring..." but when the answer came back, "Eric Dane" I realized maybe there was something to this...

Does a rose smell as sweet?

"What about the smell?" is all I keep thinking of when I hear that Michael, THE Michael, has yet to be laid to rest.

I mean, do they have him secured in a human-size Ziploc baggy or something?
I know how a pair of feet can smell in a day or two with no washings, but add armpits (he still did have those, right?), decaying skin and musty death-breath and you got some major funk going on! If CSI has taught me anything, it's that dead bodies can create some major Febreeze moments! If he thought Diana was dirty, imagine what she's saying about him, right about now!

Lay the poor man to rest already! You know anything that has to do with MJ is still going to be a 3 ring circus, so have with it and move on to all the legal disputes that will go on infinitely. It's not just the music that will make MJ immortal, it's also the litany of lawsuits that will stretch from here to the end of time.

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angle

I hate wrapping Christmas presents!

No, we are not anywhere near the season of church-driven giving (it ain't charity sweetie!), but I figured I might as well get that rant off my chest during the dog days of summer when everyone is a bit grouchy because of the darn heat and humidity; complaining just seems to blend better during summer's muggy-ness than in winter's chills. Like how smoking a cigarette seems more chic in winter when those tendrils of nicotine-exhaust waif out of your mouth, than during the 100 degrees days of summer where it looks as enjoyable smoking as it does wearing a gas mask jogging.

I know that there were people who, while growing up, belonged to certain ("DECA, DECA anyone?") high school groups that would not only teach you how to wrap presents in a manner that would make you look like an expert, but that would also then hawk those skills at the local malls for a few bucks to help your said school organization. This skill wasn't for me. I was too busy doing sports and learning real life talents, like integers and chemistry equations. I preferred to wrap my presents like I wrapped my text books, place them in a bag; VIOLA!...or if I went fancy, I cut that brown grocery bag open and wrapped the book up with a new surface for future doodling.

Fast forward to the future...

Now I am a broken man, embarrassed by the sad displays of perverted colored origami (that I paid dearly for at the local Hallmark store) molesting a box, trying to pass it off as eclectic wrapping talents. I typically acknowledge the "blooming skills" of my young children who wanted to "help daddy". That only gets awkward when gift recipients realize I have no children. The thing is, when it comes to wrapping, I can't get a darn angle to work with me! I fold one side too short, the other was cut wrong and I end up with something as disheveled as Oscar Madison from the Odd Couple! And what's worse? My partner is an EXPERT at this shit (not that I am competitive about these things...). Every gift he wraps not only looks commercial ready for Tiffany's or Bloomingdale's (even Martha needs to step back!),he even nails the darn ribbons...that he makes! I sit there sticking on as many of those pre-made puppies as I can, to hide the paper tragedy, and he's there making his own....and they look good. I silently curse paper cuts on him that just don't come while I fiddle with yet another crappy angle of wrapping paper to finesse into something more than it will ever be, like Tonya Harding's dreams of making it into the big time.

My closing thought on this, "Thank you for gift bags..."

Hughes? Hughes? Hughes?

For many, the day "the Earth stood still", was merely a month ago when Michael Jackson was declared dead (and not the Keanu movie remake), as I have made clear, that day was not so tragic in my eyes- he'd been a ghost of himself for over a decade; but the news today, of another 80's icon passing, did bum me out.

During a walk in Central Park, director John Hughes suffered a fatal heart attack.

If MJ provided the music to many people's childhood, John Hughes provided the movies. Growing up with the Breakfast Club (and desiring to start my own, only not detention-themed), the fear of being forgotten on my sweet 16, left home alone while the family vacations (I guess there's a plus for staycations) or crashing my father's car after skipping school (like I got to drive!), John Hughes wrote and directed the movies my generation was raised on. Too bad he had "Curly Sue" as his last effort, but where would "The Office" be if JH hadn't helped find Steve Carroll?

At least his efforts will forever (don't you worry about us forgetting about you, don't don't don't) be available via Blockbuster Netflixs.

Perhaps fitting, what came to mind when I heard of his death, were lyrics to an old OMD song from "Pretty in Pink", "If You Leave".

"...We’ve always had time on our sides
Now it’s fading fast
Every second, every moment
We’ve got to, We’ve got to make it last..."

Thanks for the movies, Mr Hughes...