Monday, December 31

Skype Salon tonight....

Happy New Year with Blue Gal hosted by

Join now

Chat about what's on your mind. More about public chats.

okay I lied...

Here's a video blog for today after all...

ten minutes, part two is four minutes, and you need to turn your volume down because I laugh too loudly at this hilarious book on Asperger's Syndrome.

Salon tonight and Happy New Year

This year's gonna take courage from all of us. I found this a help this morning. We're going to have to stand up to the mofos, even if they threaten hemlock. Stay away from the Kool-Aid, folks.

Sorry no time/freedom for video blogging today but tonight if you're around at 9 Eastern salon is on. See you then or otherwise have a great New Year's. XOXO

Sunday, December 30

Just finished reading...

people have corrected today's NYT Magazine remembrance of Steve Gilliard to say "that's not the Steve we knew." That he wasn't a forlorn loner, he was a leader and a big part of a lively active community we're proud to call family.

I did not know Steve. And I have a big confession to make: the first time I read his blog (probably in 2004) it kinda frightened me. That blog was so, what's the word? Vituperative? Ha. Just took me a little time, is all.

But I'm more disturbed, and I think Steve would be too (it was never about him, now, was it?), by the author's lack of understanding of what Steve did, what we all do, as bloggers. Anyone who portrays in print, that typing a blog in a room alone is a lonely existence, has never done it and doesn't have a fucking clue and should not be assigned blogger eulogies, ever.

Actually, any so-called "journalist" who would write this sentence,

"His writing at times betrayed a sense of loneliness and dislocation."

as if that is somehow unusual of practitioners of word-ly arts, is obviously not a "writer" his own self. In the words of another lonely, dislocated writer, Mister Bai? That's just typing.

[A side note: I did not know before today that Truman Capote wrote the "That's just typing" quip about Kerouac's On the Road. Nope, no lonely dislocation in that writer, that's unique to blogger Steve Gilliard. type type type.]

Anyone who thinks that this particular big bald black guy typing in a room alone was somehow deserving of a sappy 'lonely blogger' eulogy, apparently didn't know Steve Gilliard and certainly didn't know his blog. Or any blog. At all.

This particular big bald black blogger still helps all of us put rage into words, from beyond his hidden grave and so-called lonely keyboard. Founding Father does not begin to describe what he is for bloggers. He continues to influence how we write, what we say, and most particularly how we treat each other.

And the small fact that we will still rely on those words of HIS to describe our rage at the wrong, wrong war that will tragically define our era...long after names like "Petraeus" and "Nouri al-Maliki" will require a Wiki lookup...that tells us far more than those thousand words in today's Magazine Section.

But Steve coulda told you that, and the big awful shame is that he can't.

My Favorite New Word


[from a commenter at Tengrain's].

On topic:

I watched all four episodes of the NBC series Manimal precisely because it was too awful to last. You see, life holds few distinctions, and I could at least say I never missed a Manimal. In exactly the same vein I would LOVE to volunteer for Fred Thompson in Iowa, so I could say I did this really awful thing and then it was over.

Here's the scene where Manimal (Simon McCorkindale) and his girl Friday discuss admitting publicly that they are for Fred Thompson:

Thompson's website calls itself "the Fredosphere", and celebrates a "blogburst for Fred." I mean, doesn't that sound really painful in a really cool way? OW! And my browser feels soiled now, too, not just from the Manimal youtube.

Rudy Giuliani's campaign has purchased a sponsored link on Google for the search term "Fred Thompson 08". WHAT a fucking vulture.

Saturday, December 29

William Shater IS Ron

"Please Mister Shatner, teach me how to be popular!" "I've tried, Blue Gal, but you just won't put out wit' me."

Help me write this movie, folks, in comments.

Saturday Song

A good one, from this year, to sum up the year. Have a great day.

Friday, December 28

Thanks for asking.

Thanks to the email correspondent who wrote me this morning to say I remind him (I was gonna leave his gender out of it but who would I be kidding?) of Monica Belluci. I don't look a thing like her, though. I've said before that children on the street compare me to Nigella Lawson. Mirror Mirror on the Wall doesn't violently disagree with that one.

Sure, I'll Join The Googlebomb Party.

Liberal Fascism.

I don't want to be unkind here. My argument is not with anyone's mother or weight or complete lack of sexual attractiveness. I wouldn't want anyone to discuss me that way, and let's follow the Golden Rule at least that far.

What I hate about Goldberg and his book is that we live in an age where "writing" a "book" is done consciously and exclusively as a gateway to attention-whore your insane and ludicrous political "philosophy" in other media. Using book publishing that way hurts American discourse. Period. That isn't Goldberg's fault, but it is his fault that he goes about attacking "liberals" and (gag me here) the "Secret History of the American Left" in an effortless and brainless way merely to get that media attention.

That, my friend, is being a fuckwad.

And all the while Coulter, O'Reilly, Goldberg and the rest can add "published author" to their list of self-aggrandizing delusions.

Hey, why don't we all join The Conservative Book Club and get Doughy's masterpiece for a buck? On second thought...

Thursday, December 27

Everything is connected.

Spincycle Yarns in Bellingham carries panties with pirate sheep saying "knit or die," not dye.

Thank you, David Ignatius

In today's Washington Post:

Anyone who reads Adams and Jefferson -- or for that matter, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton or other voices of the American Enlightenment -- can make their own judgment about what the Founders would say about Romney's broadside against secularism. My guess is that their response would be something like: "That is bunkum, sir."

Of course, Jefferson is the founding father voted "most likely Blue Gal would Do Him". Yeah, I woulda done him, because as Merrill Peterson wrote:

"As his character was somewhat labyrinthian, so his mind was bewildering in its range and complexity.”

In other words, he's my type.

The sad part is there are Americans who are Christian who if forced Clockwork Orange-style to read the entire American Enlightenment oeuvre

The First Amendment, read it!

would still deny that the founders were anything other than Bible-thumping Christianists, and that the earth is six thousand years old in spite of the fjords alone telling them differently. "Ye shall know the truth" just does not register with these folks. I shake my head in shame to think that, yeah in name only, but still, I share nationality and religion with them.

Wednesday, December 26


In the middle of the multi-orgasmic task of cleaning my house (oh don't you wish you were me right now?) I took a break to look at some yarn.

I haven't been knitting enough lately. And yet when I look at the picture above (yeah it's handspun doesn't THAT just make ya gag with envy) I think, sometimes a ball of yarn or a piece of writing or a room with an unmade bed is a beautiful thing. Just as it is. There's no fixing it or making it into something else. I could knit that stuff up there into some really great socks that would be technically perfect (I'm definitely a type A knitter), but would they be more beautiful or complete than the yarn itself? Except that I would have added a layer to their artistry, sure, but I could do that hanging the skein from a bulletin board, too.

Maybe looking at a beautiful painting, even with naked people in it, is enough sometimes. You don't have to turn that Picasso into a porn movie, take nakedness or yarn or housework to the ultimate "finished" level every single time, because that would just ruin it, you know what I mean?

An oldie but...

Monday, December 24

Blue Gal vlog 12/24

Salon tonight after I drive all day. See you then, or if not have a great time this week.

Saturday, December 22

Maybe it's 'cause I turned Quaker...

Visiting this weekend away from home and my children have access to television, nay not just television but cable television. But we made the most of it by watching (the two younger ones for the first time) The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, the old Boris Karloff narrated cartoon.

I've always thought that Cindy Lou Who and her cohorts didn't know the real meaning of Christmas until their stuff was stolen. And that it was their hearts that were changed, off-camera, more than the Grinch's.

Today I noticed for the first time that what the Grinch hates most about Christmas is the "noise, noise, noise." And that his heart is changed when he hears quiet heartfelt singing, rather than noise. And when he participates in Whoville Christmas after the transformation of everyone there is a calm quiet dinner rather than noise.

Perhaps it's just the Quaker in me. But I'm going to find some quiet this week.

I've just listened to about 40 versions of this song, wouldn't recommend the Britney version, ha, but this old opera singer, who died on Christmas day two years ago, does it done good:

Merry Christmas.

Saturday Songs

And then someone mentioned this one at the LNMC (comment 99) last night. Dang!

Friday, December 21

Happy Birthday Frank Zappa

Obviously a photoshop. That baby has nothin' to cry about.

I'm off today. Go visit The Aristocrats and congratulate them on another fine Zappadan season. (Mark did that image last year.)

Thursday, December 20

Oh crap, Drudge is gettin' all in my bidness.

Here I was looking forward to starting my morning celebrating Global Orgasm Day 48 hours early and instead I wake up to some buzzkill Drudge crap about a John Edwards love child.

Mister Edwards, please, please, wave around the receipt for your vasectomy. In fact, I'd letcha go on Fox just so you could wave it in Chris Wallace's face. I wish at least one candidate would.

And then we have Fox telling me Rudy wants to show me his softer side? That's it. Hang up the muthafukkin phone I'm outta bed now.

H/t to The Aristocrats' Paul for the orgasm item. As long as Rudy's softer side is not involved, G.O.D. (heh) is the perfect way to end Zappadan.

Wednesday, December 19

Go say Hi...

You may already know TRex from his previous blogging with FDL. But now he has his own lovely place. If you go visit and say BG sent you.

The Telecom Companies send a little gift to Senator Feinstein

They sent her a gift certificate so she could pick out her own, the sweethearts.

I mean, everybody's being so nice...I think there are some Democrats in California who would like to give her early retirement, too.

Tuesday, December 18

How come nobody told me?

This year's not-religious Christmas Stamps are all about da KNITTING....

Just got back from Breakfast with Santa and approximately 71 Kindergarten pupils, including my own.

One young lady, not my own, had been forced (I must assume) to wear what can only be called a Red Velvet Monstrosity Dress.

Santa pulled the young victim and her horrible dress onto his lap.
"Well hello there, pretty lady. What a lovely dress. You know, Mrs. Claus has a dress just like yours up at the North Pole."
I swear I could have slipped Santa the tongue right there and then.

BTW Red Velvet Monstrosity Dresses (RVMD)
are not to be confused with
Positively Hideous Christmas Sweaters (PHCS),
which are frequently worn by
mothers of daughters with RVMD.

Monday, December 17

Happy Birthday

I didn't realize we were born in the same year, Brad. Let me just say that because you're now 44, your face is kind of starting to get interesting. Sorta.

Skype Salon tonight 9 Eastern - All are welcome...

Blue Gal's Salon 12/17 hosted by

Join now

Chat about what's on your mind. More about public chats.

And remember no special Skype equipment is needed at all. You just download Skype here and join above. (It's a typing only chatroom and people are really friendly and funny.) Hope to see you there at 9 Eastern. (People do show up earlier and stay later but I'm there for an hour.)

Vlog 12/18

When I say this is just a quick vlog, I lie. But it is one minute less than last week's, so that's progress. (only 16 minutes of your life you'll never have again!)

A link to the Op Ed on licensing bloggers as journalists is here.

Steve Gilliard piece from which I read is here.

The petition against Telecom Immunity is here.

Sunday, December 16

Doing the round up for the next couple...

As Dr. Zaius would say, "no time for blogging today!" (love that opening.) I'm doing Mike's Blog Round Up at Crooks for the next three days. Then Mike is back. Hooray!

and as I emailed a fellow blogger last night...

ten twenty two and I'm only halfway done with the round up so I'm having a second beer in order to lower my standards.

Dang, one more drink and I'll be linking NRO's The Corner.

Last year on December 11th I wrote the following:

The Sunday New York Effin' Times is read, the blog is tended to, and the best video blog has three blog round-ups full of wonderful blogs, even though Mike is outta town. My house is a SHAMBLES. Every single room. I have not put away a clean shirt in four days.

But here is what IS done: The Christmas tree is up.

All three children are fed and bathed and have clean clothes on and know Mommy loves them.

So would I have it any other way? NOPE.

It's nice to know that in a year where so much has changed for me personally, a lot of things have remained the same.

Friday, December 14

A convenient post-workout snack

I love the "reviewer" who said, "Good, but not the best Pop-Tarts I’ve had."

I actually do have better things to do today than Google Pop-Tarts images.

Holy mother of gawd, do you know just how many varieties of Pop Tarts there are? I'm actually amazed that some neocon hasn't pointed out that the Islamofascists hate us for our toaster pastries.

No, really and truly, I actually do have better things to do today than Google Pop-Tarts images.

Okay. Kill me now.


Harry Shearer's got a channel.

And there's lots of other stuff to choose from, too.

My Damn Channel has some talent on it. Kinda like Huffpo in the early days (when was that, like, ten months ago?).

They've got Don Was. Huh.

And I like Harry Shearer a lot. He's beaming the name of David Hasselhoff as the 2008 candidate...oh nevermind.

The videos are funny in spite of the ads. Guys, I feel as if I've already seen the new Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts movie six times.

Thursday, December 13

And I quote....

Mark at The Aristocrats on the GOP field:
Tancredo and Hunter sure must enjoy campaigning, because there's no good reason for them to be there. ...Fred Thompson is still the candidate easiest to satirize. Ron Paul's meds finally seem to be kicking in.

If only that were true of his supporters. (Shit I'm gonna regret typing that.)

I wish you could link to individual comments at Skype Salon. I'd never be hard up for a post again. For instance, Driftglass at salon last Monday: "My kingdom for a brokered GOP convention."

And some darn fine writin' from Peeling Wallpaper. Click on that link and read the whole thing if you want entertainment, but here's a snip:

Just so you know, I’m dreaming right now. That you’re reading this while I sleep has to do with my new dream-to-blog technology which allows me to transcribe my dreams real-time onto my blog. Pretty cool, huh? Oh, there are the electrodes to deal with. The fire wire. The cranial wifi router. It only hurts a little.

Bob Marley is here with me. He says that I'm stressing too much in my day life and it's affecting my sleep cycle....

That cranial wifi router will getcha every time....

Oh my...

The "please don't forsake Baby Jesus" thong sent to me by Omnipotent Poobah. Thanks, hon.

And look. As far as I'm concerned The Des Moines Register can set the guest list for their own debate with whatever criteria they wish.

But not after they invite Alan Keyes to the GOP one. Then they have to let Kucinich on the Democratic stage.

Wednesday, December 12

My thoughts on Monday Skype Salon
for Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve

Since both of those fall on a Monday...

is to go ahead and have Skype Salon anyway. I should be back from a weekend trip by 8 o'clock Central on December 24th and I never travel on New Year's Eve. Would love to share a glass of bubbly or whatever with you then.


Blue Gal's Real World Curriculum

Tagged with a meme (by request--thanks Zaius) because I actually thought this one was cool...

"Write about 5 classes you would like to take if you could make up your own curriculum. AND - and this is important, ONE of them must come from your tagger's list."

Zaius, I wanna take this one:

3978. Better Living Through Time Travel (3 credits) MWF 10:30-?

One of the enduring wishes of us history geeks is the ability to travel through time to see first hand the epochs and events that interest us the most. Well now you can, with this amazing, single-semester course! Learn the secret art of space-time continuum manipulation! Explore your chosen field fully versed in the language of your choice! No Latin? No problem! Discover the heretofore unknown nuances that prevent the paradoxical alteration of history itself that so much bad sci-fi has warned us about! So go and step on that bug with impudence! And just remember, the next time some wanker says that no one knows the real reason for the disappearance of human culture in the future, you can say, "You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!" Space craft necessary for said travel not included.

And mine. Some of these I want to take, some I want others to take, some I have already taken:

SOC 42DD Teh Hott For Any Weight Tu Th 9pm

Students will be assigned a private dressing room with a three way mirror. They will stand before said mirror for 30 minutes, naked, and yell affirmations about how do-able they are. Extra credit will be given to any man who mentions his gorgeous gut, or woman who celebrates her booty-ful butt.

POL 333 Eating Out Like a Guy Tu Th 12-1:30

Fuck chardonnay. Fuck boneless skinless chicken breasts. Fuck salad as an entree and especially fuck dressing on the side. In this course you will learn how to order a blue cheeseburger on the onion roll with a Pabst Blue Ribbon on draft. During the dinner field trip, you will order the ribeye (medium rare) with a red wine that doesn't come from Australia, ya pussy!

For bonus credit, students will report on the difference between a "drink" and a "belt."

ENG 3795 Sit Down, Tune Out, and Read. MWF 10-10:30

Mandatory attendance required at all sessions. Participants will enter a well-lit room, sit down on their choice of comfortable chairs, and read whatever book they want for thirty minutes in a row. Laptops, cellphones and I-Pods will be confiscated at the door.

CompSci 1 Rebooting and other "advanced" computer skills. F 2:30

Students will "re-learn" logical skills that they already know, but that do not come to the forefront of their thought when presented in the context of "I'm working on a computer." For instance, a user would never type on a typewriter without inserting paper in the roller, nevertheless the same user calls tech support when their printer "won't print," even though the printer simply needs paper.

Warning: this course is taught by low-social skill, tech support professionals who already have your password. Any questions asked in class will be answered via email/chat from an undisclosed location, but you will hear via text the professional tech support eye-roll that says "what, are you stupid?" Then the tech support professional will remotely reboot your computer without saving your work.

By the way I don't tag people. If you want to do this feel free, and I don't mind linky love and credit in the least. :-D

Tuesday, December 11

Just gotta say part 2

I just went down to the basement to get my Christmas tree stuff brought up. (Am I late? Tough.)

Came across a folder of poetry I wrote when I was seventeen. A big folder. Poems, plural. As you might expect, it all pretty much sucked, but dang, I've been a writer for twenty-seven years. Longer than I've been a knitter. I self-identify as a knitter, easily. Writer? Not so much. Time to change that.

And while pundits argue about the ever-changing nature of reading and the rape of the printed page by technology and whether Google is destroying the western canon by digitizing it, we writers keep doing what we do as we ever did.... cup of coffee at a time.

Just gotta say.

Fuck Wal-Mart and their panties. And not in a sexy way. (h/t qwerty)

Update: we're openin' the can of whoop-ass. Good on us.


The Splotchy Story Meme

Several people have either tagged me or threatened to tag me with the Splotchy Story Meme. I don't want to leave anyone out. Here's my version of the story, which, sorry, I think is complete on its own. I know, I know, that does not really allow for viralness, but since I don't tag others anyway, viral wouldn't come from here anyhow.

There is tremendous danger in posting a story like this, in that many readers will read more into it than is there. Allow me to say this as clearly as I can: No one ever threw a jar of pickles or applesauce in my kitchen. Please don't look for some key to my experience in a story I wrote and present to you as fiction.

[A big thank you to the gentle reader who took a look at this before I posted it.]

Splotchy started the story thusly:

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen.

I also knew why it was there.

It was the same brand and size as the other jars, usually six or seven, he had stored in the refrigerator. On the top shelf, so I would see them every time I made dinner or got milk or pulled out a snack for one of the kids. They were his weapon of choice, his muse, his sword, his paintbrush.

He had thrown a jar of pickles once, just once, when dinner was a packaged casserole and he wanted homemade meatloaf. He said later it was a compliment to me, and my cooking, that he would much rather have what I made than something from Stouffer’s. So he threw a glass of pickles against the wall, to show me that he really appreciated me and my cooking.

I cleaned up the pickles and broken glass, wiped up the stinky juice as quickly as I could. Too quickly, it turned out.

That was when he decided on applesauce.

It splatters up the wall, spreads on the floor, conceals the smallest glass shards. The sticky residue endures, forever, to the stucco on the kitchen wall. It takes a long time to clean. He watches. Stands over me and says you missed a spot here. The floorboards will be ruined if you don’t move quickly, and it will be your fault.

At least, that is what he did before the neighbors reported the noise, and the police came, and there was a restraining order…before I thought I was free.

Frozen applesauce in a glass jar. Very clever. As the applesauce melts the frozen glass warms too quickly and shatters. But not yet. He did not need to make a sound. Did not need to wake me in case I would call the police. He has been in this kitchen within the past two hours, I suspected. He might still be here. He thought I would sleep in, maybe. He thought I would awake again to broken glass and the smell that makes me so ill I could retch even now. And what do I say to the cops? “There’s frozen applesauce on my kitchen counter, arrest him?“

Sure enough, just as I get it above the trash can the bottom of the jar falls off. I drop the rest in and thank God none spilled anywhere else. I am able, quickly, to put two unsorted baskets of clean laundry in the back of the van, get the girls out of bed and for a moment I debate: do I take them to the toilet to empty their bladders before we go? Do I risk it? Yes. I am able to buckle their pajammied bodies into their seats.

I am able to drive.

I am able to drive.

I have nowhere, nowhere, to go.


Monday, December 10

Salon Tonight

Salon is here. Skype's bein flaky. Just sign into skype and look for Hope to see you there at 8 Central.

Gave up and vlogged on Mitt Romney.

Hey folks. You don't need to listen to seventeen minutes of me on Mitt Romney, etc. but do read this article, and this one, if you haven't already.

Salon tonight. Hope to see you there!

Update: Oh Dang just go read the General's "Huckabee's Jesus." Yup.

Sunday, December 9

Count not the cost

Katherine Hepburn gets it. When she's talking to Dick Cavett about acting and movies and furniture, she's also talking about creativity and living your whole life...blogging and friendships and anything else really worth having. The cost is not what matters. I love this:

I don't need sex to keep my blogger pencil sharp.

I was chatting up a male blogger this week and he pointed out we women bloggers can get away with more than men. A guy who posts a wet t-shirt picture is a sexist pig. A woman blogger can post this:

And laugh (which I did).

The latest "controversy" over sexism in the blogosphere has to do with a pencil sharpener that looks like a submissive female taking a pencil up the nether regions.

Sorry you can't hear my eyes rolling from here.

Sure there is real harassment and sexism in society and specifically in the MSM and blogosphere as well. But most of what passes for same is frat boy claptrap, and is not a real threat to a real strong woman. Sometimes a pencil sharpener is to sharpen pencils, less often is it a deeply offensive political statement, and sometimes it's just absolutely stupid.

I'm actually more offended that the female's head is replaced by the handle than I am where the pencil goes.

And BLOGGERS who think it's a good idea to post a picture of a really stupid, and to some offensive, pencil sharpener? For those, we have a lolcat:

Friday, December 7

ENTIRELY too close to home.

Medieval help desk. The fact that it's in Norwegian just thickens it:

Mitt is just gonna have to wait...

Mitt Romney realizes he sent his sons to Blue Gal, the blog, to read a promised post
about his own self, and instead she sends them to an online pornography poll.

I've got a lot going on today. Nothing's wrong, just way busy. Way.

So while you're waiting (and I am too) for my Mitt Romney post, fill out this PBS Pornography Poll sent me by an anonymous benefactor.

The results prove what I already suspected. During times when they could be thinking about God or running for President or avoiding military service*, many men age 21-30 spend several hours a week masturbating to internet pornography.

And their cohort also makes up the majority of respondents to this particular survey.

Confused? Allow me to summarize the surprising** results: young men are more likely than old men or women of any age to brag about their pornography-enhanced masturbation habits via an online poll.

In the interests of this post, I took the poll my own self. I answered all of the questions without hesitation except one. And I won't tell you which made me hesitate.

*Actually you can avoid military service and masturbate to internet pornography at the same time, if you use gay porn and brag about it. Works for me. I mean...oh nevermind.

**I mean, I was totally surprised that Mitt Romney's sons actually took a break from internet porn (and yeah, Worlds of Warcraft and Halo, I know I know) in order to fill out the poll. Thanks, guys!

Thursday, December 6

Dedicated to Mitt

I'm working up a Mitt Romney post and this is running in my headsets. If only he would just come out and do a George Thorogood...

Wednesday, December 5


White Rabbit Late with this post.

Study in contrasts. I'm working out a bunch of piddly property stuff with Mr. BG. Hadda go to the registry of motor vehicles because, silly us, his car is in my name and my car in his.

I fully expected to greet Jimmy Hoffa and Amelia Earhart in the line, but shock... there were no lines, no waiting, four people waiting to serve us. Not only were we in and outta there in minutes, while we were there, a guy who just opened a donut shop down the street brought in a huge box of his wares for everyone to sample. (I'm too lactose intolerant for that but wow anyway.)

Contrast our experience at our next stop, Verizon, (and yeah I'm blogging the name because they deserve it). Five years ago or so MBG bought me as a gift a "pay as you go" phone so I would have an emergency calling device, since I was about to have our second baby. Because he wanted to surprise me with the present, he registered the number in his name.

Life changes, I use my phone a lot more now, and I wanted a minutes account with free nights and weekends, but I wanted to keep my old number. They required me to bring in Mr. BG in order to transfer the phone number to my name.

Then they asked Mr. BG for his Social Security number. He does not give that out to anyone. They told him they already had the last four digits and he agreed happily that he would confirm those.

All of this made no sense to me because he was NOT buying service from them. He was actually separating from them. I agreed to give them my information and let them run a credit check on me but why Mr. BG, who was taking his name OFF my phone number?

The salesman said point blank to our faces, and I am not making this up:

"We run a credit check on everybody."

Why the fuck? To SELL that information? We walked out the door. Screw 'em.

By the way. If I ever agree with John Bolton on anything, ever, I have a request:

Please shoot me through the back of my head. That way they can still make my face pretty for the open casket. Where I will be wearing my John Bolton Lies! t-shirt:

Tuesday, December 4

I don't wake up to an email like this every morning,
I'm tellin' ya.

Click for larger. Thank the good Lord for Loretta Nall, who's fighting the good fight on the Alabama sex toy front. Damn fundies need to focus on their own goddamn families, and btw yer momma would be a lot happier if she had a place in town where she could buy a vibrator legally.

I love it that Loretta wants to tell the State Legislature to quote, "take your religion and shove it up your..." but for me? The baby Jesus butt plug does cross the line of good versus poor taste. Just sayin'.

Monday, December 3

Skype Salon - All are Welcome

Blue Gal's Salon 12/3 hosted by

Join now

Chat about what's on your mind. More about public chats.

I'll be there around 9 Eastern. Hope to see you there...

Happy Zappadan

Happy Zappadan Eve! Zappadan takes place at The Aristocrats. Send Frank Zappa stuff for inclusion in the festival to mhoback AT gmail DOT com. Details in this seven minute video.

See you tonight at Salon, I hope.

Sunday, December 2

Best damn political cartoon of the week...

is here. I can't copy it because of copyright, which in this instance I respect.

Great work, Mister Kelley.


Stolen from the original Quaking Harlot. QH, you're a good writer, and I hope the Way Opens for you to post more often. A couple of bloggers have spoken to me of hope this week, and whether or not we have it or should. Are we so dumbed down as a nation that there is no hope? Will the Constitution prevail? Can we recover from this administration, and restore to our country and world all the good that's been raped away? Can we?

We've got work to do. Today. That is all there is. And my dearest much loved friends, it is enough. It is enough. Squeeze my hand. Look at me with calm resolve as I look at you. And let us begin.

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,

Therefore, we are saved by hope.

Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;

Therefore, we are saved by faith.

Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.

Therefore, we are saved by love.

No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;

Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.

-Reinhold Niebuhr

Oh poop. I wasn't gonna add this because it's too dirty f-ing hippy, but then I started to stand up at your computer, with no one watching, and dance with me my hunnies.

Saturday, December 1

Dana Perino finds her true calling...

Game Show Contestant for charity:

and Katherine! Jean! Lopez! thinks Dana Perino is underpaid, based on this exchange with Helen Thomas. No. Really.

Helen Thomas: Why should we depend on him?

MS. PERINO: Because he is the commander on the ground, Helen. He's the one who is making sure that the situation is moving —

HT: You mean how many more people we kill?

MS. PERINO: Helen, I find it really unfortunate that you use your front row position, bestowed upon you by your colleagues, to make such statements. This is a — it is an honor and a privilege to be in the briefing room, and to suggest that we, at the United States, are killing innocent people is just absurd and very offensive.

Let that sink in, folks.


Is offended.

That Helen Thomas.

Is shitting on her privileged front seat in the WH briefing room.

By suggesting.

That we have killed innocent peoople in Iraq.

And Helen's response? Does she bend over and apologize like a good little Washington Press Corps? My sense is Helen didn't draw breath before asking the followup.

HT: Do you know how many [Iraqi civilians] we have [killed] since the start of this war?


MS. PERINO: How many — we are going after the enemy, Helen. To the extent that any innocent Iraqis have been killed, we have expressed regret for it.

HT: Oh, regret. It doesn't bring back a life.

MS. PERINO: Helen, we are in a war zone, and our military works extremely hard to make sure that everyone has the opportunity for liberty and freedom and democracy, and that is exactly what they are doing. I'm going to move on.

Dana honey, I retract. You're very effective at that sweet spot where your "brain" clicks over to "barf out feel-good America words and run away" mode. You've moved on so quickly that no one in that stifling room has the energy to remind you that dead people have no opportunity for liberty and freedom and democracy.

Speaking of which, the "country of Europe" hates us. Primarily because of you. I'm going to move on.

Saturday Song.

Really needs no introduction. Enjoy it, ma hunnies.