Effluvia

While yesterday's entry was crap, I thought the shit-themed links were especially strong. I can't possibly top that today.

Unless I could find a site with pictures of that place where they take human corpses, plasticize them and turn them in to art. That would be pretty cool.



Journal Roulette

An Artist's Journal - Oh, this just sucks ass. Pretentious and cutesy.



Siobhanorama!

Until Siobhan returns I'll just run the latest updates about Passions, since that's what she's watching.

This summary is from January 18:

Eve is horrified when she overhears Alistair and Julian discussing their latest scheme to break up Luis and Sheridan. Later, Ivy spies a cozy moment between Chad and Whitney and needles Eve about the possibility that Chad is Eve's son.

The glamorous engagement party for Ethan and Theresa gets underway as anyone who's anyone in Harmony gathers at the Crane mansion. Rebecca is nervous when Ivy claims to know what she's up to. Ivy warns Rebecca she'll never marry Julian because she intends to stay Mrs. Julian Crane forever. Meanwhile, the tabloid reporters head for the Crane mansion, ready to tell the world Ethan is not biologically a Crane. Back at the Bennetts', Charity has a premonition that disaster will befall Grace at the engagement party and blurts out that Sam and Grace can't go. Hecuba urges Kay to convince her parents to leave so she can destroy Charity. As Charity continues to have more disturbing premonitions, Grace decides they should stay home. Kay pressures Charity to encourage Sam and Grace to go to the party.



Two Years Ago
I undecorate my mom's Christmas tree.

01/25/2001
Burrito

Sonya, talking to a friend last night:

"Yeah, thirty is gonna creep up on me like a bad burrito."




Dear Taliban,

You are a dumb regime. I hear you're arresting men because they have Leonardo DiCaprio haircuts. That makes you exceptionally, outstandingly stupid. The only reason you're in charge in Afghanistan is because you're too dumb to run a real country. You're an idiot.

I mean, really. Come on guys. If you're threatened by a haircut you must be pretty nervous, huh? You suck.

Sincerely,
Harold




I'll probably get a fatwah thrown on my ass for that one. But I don't care. I'm right, they're wrong.




Seen at CNN.com today:

Man accidentally saws off hand, then shoots nails into head
BETHLEHEM, Pennsylvania (AP) -- A Pennsylvania construction worker accidentally cut off his hand with a power saw and then shot himself in the head with a nail gun several times, apparently hoping to end his pain, police said.

Wow. That is the Mother of All Bad Days right there. But what a great headline! It writes itself. Just restate what happened in the simplest form possible and the readers are guaranteed.




Also from CNN today:

Cuban President Fidel Castro this week fired his first verbal shot at President Bush since he took office, saying he hoped his new adversary in the White House is "not as stupid as he seems."

Ol' Fidel certainly calls 'em like he sees 'em, doesn't he? I suppose he's earned it, being in office for forty years and all. And you can't argue with his political analysis, can you?




So New Orleans has a new radio station and it is an eighties station. "Playing the best of the eighties and more!" they proudly proclaim. And it is very good.

But irony does play a part.

Is it irony, exactly? It's a tough word to use. Anyway, say they play an Elvis Costello song. You can listen to Costello unironically; he's a quality songwriter who did some of his best work in the eighties.

And what about Duran Duran? Most people my age hear the opening strains of Hungry Like the Wolf and they get the big I-remember-that-tune grin. It's funny, because it's so strongly linked to our childhood. It's like finding a pair of parachute pants on sale at the Gap. But when Jen and Sonya hear it they enjoy it unironically - it is a great song by one of their favorite bands.

And then this afternoon I heard Mr. Roboto. This is nobody's favorite song. No one has a great memory attached to Mr. Roboto - or any Styx song, for that matter. Yet I turned it up and sang along. I didn't love it then, and it's stupid now, but you have to sing along with Mr. Roboto, don't you? All of that enjoyment comes from irony.

Just a theorem I thought I'd put forth.




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