Effluvia

Has anyone besides me noticed that pop radio is dominated by prepubescent chanteuses moaning in digitally enhanced orgasmic ecstacy?

Oh, that's just me? Never mind, then.

Siobhanorama!

Siobhan is also doing the write-a-novel-in-a-month thing. I'm glad to hear it.

I'll also be accepting story ideas for the novel from you, the general public. No guarantee that they'll be used, mind you, but it could happen. If you send me a small idea (say, a guy racks his nuts on a fire hydrant) it's far more likely to be used than a huge, overarching thesis (like "why does God let bad things happen?").

Currently, I'm hoping to involve monkeys in the plot in some way, but I'm trying not to do too much planning before November actually begins. Spirit of the game and all that.

Three Years Ago
"I could never go in to politics...I don't look good in the clothes."

Two Years Ago
"I banged my head against the steering wheel all the way home."

One Year Ago
"I assure you your opinion means nothing to me."

From a Salon article about V.S. Naipaul winning the Nobel Prize:

"But, in choosing Naipaul, the Academy has also struck a blow against any alternative to the idea, now endemic, that the West knows what's best for everyone, and that the rest of the world had better get with the program."

Well, yeah. The idea is endemic because it's true, you great wet pussy. I'm sorry, but there's no way that you can convince me that television, McDonald's and a fat and happy middle class is somehow worse than hunger, terror, repression and a complete absence of both basic social services and simple human rights. We're doing it right, and the sooner the thrid world gets the message and straightens up the happier they'll be. Why do they persist in their antiquated and non-functioning ways? Because the people in power want to stay in power, and they know that won't happen in the face of western-style democracy. They'd be out of the presidential palace - and possible against the wall out back. They accuse America of imperialism, when it's actually they clinging to the ways of the backwater despot.

Later in the article, Naipaul says that "the vermin of the Taliban government must be overthrown." I think I will read one of his books.

Man, Journalcon was great, wasn't it? Everyone was so friendly, the books and movies were great, it was convenient to my house and I personally had sex with over twenty of my fellow online journalists! I'll admit that my privates are might itchy today, but I'm sure that will clear up in plenty of time for the next get-together.

Oh, wait. That wasn't Journalcon. I've just received an e-mail informing me that Journalcon wasn't held at Airline Highway Movies and Books. What the hell kind of gathering did I go to? Who were those people? You mean I didn't actually blow Rob and Gus? Oh, I have been cruelly, cruelly tricked!

The Louisiana Badass does not drain correctly. Being a convertible, it has a complex system designed to get water from the roof to the ground, even if the water runs into the car. Somewhere along the way this system has become blocked, because Sonya's car now sloshes after a rain and, on Saturday afternoon, this caused the floor on the passenger side to become saturated with rainwater. At one point I was bailing out the motherfucking car.

So yesterday I went out before the football game started and put the top down, hoping the sunlight would cook out some of the water and help the upholstery to dry. I locked the console and put the parking lot clicker in the glove compartment, which I also locked. Last night I went back out and put the top up before dark.

This morning, moments after I got to work, I received a call from Sonya.

"Where's my clicker?" she demanded.

I told her it was in the glove compartment.

"Good grief," she said and hung up.

Wow. Sonya was so annoyed she actually started talking like Charlie Brown. Presented for you here, then, is what would happen if Charlie Brown started talking like Sonya.

Saturday was a special day,'cause for the first time since last winter Sonya and I went to Best Buy - and it was in our very own city!

Yes, retail civilization is slowly creeping up on New Orleans. Not one but two Best Buys opened up last week, so we took a couple of friends of ours out to Metairie for Corky's barbecue (I couldn't decide on the ribs or the pulled pork - so I had both) and some hardcore consumerism at the new big box store on Vets.

"This must be what the pilgrims felt like when a McDonald's finally opened on Plymouth Rock," I enthused as we pulled into the parking lot, "'cause finally they had a place to eat and finally I have a place to shop!"

And to use my sadly underutilized Best Buy card.

(Supposedly a Target is even opening up next year - I may simply die from too much convenience.)

Ostensibly we needed a microwave, but both Sonya and I knew it wasn't going to stop there. I was lobbying for a PlayStation, actually, or possibly even a Dreamcast, but Sonya objected with far more vehemence than I thought was necessary. I laid out how relatively inexpensive those two systems were, and I pointed out that it wasn't like I wanted to PlayStation 2 or anything. I mean really. Three-hundred bucks just for the console itself? I couldn't justify spending that much money on me.

I kept on and kept on until finally Sonya yanked me aside.

"I'm going to get you one for Christmas, you boob," she hissed through gritted teeth, "only now it won't be a surprise."

Ah.

"Bet you feel bad now, huh?"

But I didn't! Just when I thought I had a good feel for the boundaries of the Wife's goodness she goes and makes plans to get me something that she surely sees as a ridiculously useless gift - even going so far as to consult other PS2 owners on what exactly she should buy. That Sonya. I tell you.

And while I couldn't justify spending that kind of money on myself, I have absolutely no problem with Sonya spending it on me. Bless her heart, I'm the luckiest boy in the world!