Ensoulment 101: Today I Relived Mother's Day And Still Don't Feel Any Better About It

Hi,

Let me get straight to the point okay? Just what in the heck were you thinking? I mean, why is the Philadelphia level on THPS2 for iPhone so hard? Right. Yeah, don't get me started.

And speaking of white people who have been described as black, on Monday the 2nd to last POTUS was hanging out in or around Love Park where he defended himself against the same observations, for which no cable network ever paid me a few hundred thousand dollars a year, that I've been making for years.

In unrelated news, when I was a little boy I had what you might call: "A Big Mouth". In retrospect, one can point to some pent up emotional aggression that manifested itself unintentionally violent outbursts of confused sadness. Or something. Anyway until I, depending on your perspective, either grew up, started listening to my mom or learned to use things like drugs and alcohol to suppress a consistently nagging notion that I didn't like Holden Caulfield because he reminded me of myself I just kind of assumed that everyone's mom said things to the affect of: "You Better Learn To Think Before You Speak" and "That Mouth Of Yours Is Gonna Get You Into A Lot Of Trouble". Apparently, I was wrong. Apparently, not everyone had a mom that warned them against not using the general principles of logic when expressing what may or may not be a valid frustration. Or maybe everyone did, but not everyone listened. Anyway, here is today's installment of: "Kids Grow Up To Say The Darndest Things As Embedded Within This Title Of Today's Installment Of Kids Grow Up To Say The Darndest Things In The Form Of A HyperLink".

In other news, today's episode of "Next Blog" pretty much speaks for itself.

Oh, and speaking of the walls that birth yourself tomorrow...

Some guy has been taking a big crap all over twitter because the digital representation of a bunch of ideas he had is now available on something I spent three days picking out a new icon for.

Oh, wait. I need a tissue.

Okay, I'm back. While I was in the bathroom getting a tissue, I also took a crap. Actually, I left a crap. You know what I mean. Unless you are foreign. In which case you may not say the opposite of what you mean about what you're doing when you're going to the bathroom.

Speaking of saying exactly what you mean to say all the time and not just because you are thankful for the opportunity to say things on TV that aren't true, I wonder if this guy...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/15/michael-steele-defends-gingrich-kenyan_n_718774.html

... is bummed out about this?:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/15/craigslist-adult-services-shutdown-congress_n_718803.html

Oh, and BTW, as if you need more reminders about Slick Willie's reign of terror, you should watch the following video past the two minute mark. If you don't care about reliving another decade where I didn't get famous and are simply interested in some insight into the thought process of the woman who just may take over Joe Biden's old job in Delware, you'll get all that in the first two minutes. She's the good looking one who is not black.

Finally, I got a new tea kettle yesterday. It's orange. It looks great on the stove. It's also broken. Yes. Already. Son of a bitch.

M

P.S. Two years ago today, the guy who wrote this song with Roger Waters died:

P.P.S. Four years before that, the really tall guy in this band died:

Philosophy 101: Death And Dying and The Case For Occasionally Counting Your Blessings

Hi,

Since I know how much you hate your life, I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about someone who won't be emulating you, complaining about the great life he used to be living, anymore.

Shortly after moving, err, driving as fast as my four hundred dollar 1980 Pontiac Bonneville that I am pretty sure I bought from a friend who is now a lawyer in his dad's law firm would take me away from the palatial waste-land that is Melbourne, Florida I became pretty well hooked on listening to NPR. In hindsight, I can only presume this was due to emulating a gentleman by the name of C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _. You see, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ was a counselor to a friend of mine and since I was so impressionable and looked up to my friend so much, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ was the person in my young male adulthood I chose to try and replace my dad with because I didn't think that he was superman anymore. In short, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ would sit contemplatively listening to NPR on sunny afternoons in sunny Tallahassee, FL and soon thereafter, so did I. Funny enough, I eventually came to realize that my dad was a pretty freakin' cool dude, even if he did make us move to stupid Florida. And another funny enough is that even after C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ and I didn't see each other so much anymore, I developed an appreciation for NPR that one might accurately describe as genuine. To this day I find a kind of comfort whenever I hear the pinko-commie ramblings of the left wing NPR conspiracy coming through the radio. Just like I did when at the age of eighteen, I had a job making $4.68 per hour washing moving trucks. That was back when the greatest president I ever voted for was trying to get his wife to spearhead something called Universal Healthcare. And yes, even though I have listened to NPR through iTunes for about the last 4 years, I still call it the radio. Even though it doesn't sound as good and sometimes I miss part of a story because I have to restart my modem.

(Editor's Note: You can find information about Father/Son relationships by clicking on this sentence.)

Anyway, since you're so self absorbed, you probably need me to tell you more about how a person can start to have a kind of relationship with the disembodied voices coming through the radio year after year. But I'm not gonna tell you about all the times I found comfort from a small cadre of familiar voices because they are, quite frankly, none of your damn business.

Like the time when I was nineteen and the dad I took so long to realize was such a cool guy died all of a sudden and I just kind of sat around in a daze for seven months listening to NPR for five hours a day. I'm not gonna tell you about that.

Or the time when I was twenty five and driving around Los Angeles all the time, listening to NPR for five hours a day, because I had a new dead end job as a messenger and spent a lot of time wondering just what in the hell I was doing with my life and why in the hell some dudes would want to start shooting their fellow classmates and when is my stupid band gonna get a record deal and not knowing what to say to the LAPD when I got pulled over and they asked me why doesn't my 1988 Nissan pick-up truck have a front bumper? I'm not gonna tell you about that either.

Or the time when I was thirty years old and I had to move back to LA for a job at a recording studio that I hated almost as much as I hated pretty much everything about the life that I had not lived to it's potential, and I would pretend that I had some important errand to run so that I could drive around aimlessly listening to NPR while getting paid less than I thought I was worth but more than could be amortized. That's just, as I said, none of your business so don't even ask.

(Editor's Note: As a matter of clarification, no one with the author's socioeconomic background ever really "had" to take that job in a Los Angeles recording studio. In fact, the studio was in Santa Monica. Which is technically a city all it's own. Which isn't even a technicality. It's just a fact. Anyway, for more information about taking responsibility for your own life and successfully navigating the many and varied choices you'll be making along the way, you can click on the convenient link to amazon.com in the bottom right margin of this page and when you get to the amazon.com home page, type in the words "the power of now", "the road less traveled" and "who moved my cheese" into the search field and buy all the books related to said queries. Not only will you soon be on your way to annoying the crap out of your friends at some quaint East Village cafe with stories of how you've learned to have compassion for the little boy inside you, but you will also be contributing a little something I like to call: My Income.)

Anyway, on Friday July 23rd, 2010, the last living of "Murrow's Boys", Daniel Shorr died. Since he was 93 years old, I can't really say "that really sucks" or anything. But still. It made me pause. And it also made me listen to a 54 minute memorial/collection of interviews on NPR that you're not even gonna listen to so I don't really know why I thought about giving you a link to it. So I won't.

In unrelated news, here's the link to the Daniel Shorr memorial thing that you were asking about: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128565997

In related news, I have updated the "Some Places You'll Find Less Interesting" section of the greatest website in the history of websites that your hot mom reads.

And speaking of the retiring Tony Hayward, it appears that The Rolling Stones will retire in 2012. You can read about that and autographed latrines at a website called Music Television.

In unrelated opinions, Mick Jagger is the best singer in rock and if you don't agree I will meet you on the playground at 3:15 and beat the crap out of you and who's army.

Finally, since you've been wondering, there's a variety show called The Old Fashioned Ladies Club starting up on August 18th. I'll be bombarding the world with information filled html bombs starting on August 1st. In the meantime, you can ask me about it and how you can be involved. Because, you can be involved. Provided you want to be. And provided I want you to be involved. Kind of like the new, and first, OFLC sponsor. We just sealed the deal last night. They wanted to be involved. And we wanted them to be involved. So now The OFLC has a presenting sponsor. Sometimes life is so good I feel like I have air conditioning even though I don't.

I'm gonna go eat now because I am getting cross-eyed.

Mwah!

M