● Linguistic Patrol: At&T (I love you guys, O Providers of my Internet, POTS and Celphone, please don't pull the plug, 'kay? Call me?) keeps stickin' Post-Its™ to the newspaper that read "When you need more than 411, call the new 411." No, dammit, "411" was the number for the old 411. Or is black the new black? "When you need a number more than five, use five." Look, that only works with Aleph-null (et seq...) and I am not sittin' here with my steam-powered desk phone waiting for the dial to scroll back, flipping the pulse contacts a transfinite number of times, okay?
● Overheard: "I would not poke that even with your umbrella." And they said Bowlder was dead! Seems like an open-and-shut case, no?
● Congress -- and most everyone else -- thinks government creates the economy. Which one was there first? Which provided the original impetus for which?
● Speakin of -- ptoo -- Congress, during the great peristaltic gush of bipartisanship that led to passage of the bucket-with-a-big-hole-in-it bailout bill, was lovey-dovey with fellership while the electorate is quite sharply divided between the Big O and the ol' GOP. I was reminded of nothing so much as the scene in Animal
● One more: Congress is a Them everyone can agree on. Greedy excess? Socialism run amok? Exploiters of the downtrod' and destructive class warriors? Baby, there's only one place you'll find all that in one reekin' package and it's under the big dome. This whole Presidential race is just a flappin' red cape we're supposed to charge at. Do so, says I, and enjoy every minute of it -- but on the way, vote out every incumbent legislator on your ballot. At the very least, judge them harshly before you decide. As a general rule and assuming he keeps his booger-hook off the big bang switch, Presidents can only ruin your week; Congress can ruin your life.
● On a lighter note, if ever I compose a dance number for whales, I'll call it the Beluga-Blue Boogaloo!
● Last but not least: you thought ordinary army ants, a million on the march, were creepy? Step it up by a factor of ten or more: say OMG to Siafu.
1. Bowlder is pictured now as a mealy-mouthed prude. At the time, his Family Shakespeare received a lot of praise for being as true to the Bard as one could manage while making it suitable for a proper Victorian child; nowadays, cultural and language drift has gone far enough that a very little in the plays is considered grownups-only fare: it's either as nothing compared to the evening news or flatly incomprehensible. Back then, not so much.
2. Tam has been house-sitting all this week. I've been on vacation and it turns out that after the decade-plus I was with my ex, if I am alone in a house, I cannot sleep unless I am exhausted. Literally can't -- I nod off and wake up at the least sound. Last time I was home alone and not working every day, I was recovering from a broken femur; I had the challenge of navigating a three-floor house on crutches to occupy my time and plenty of Vicodin. What's worse, several times now I've awakened about halfway and got stuck: can't move, can't think straight, just barely enough wits to fight my way back across an infinity trapped in my own skull.