Twitter Down for Hours!! Millions Forced to Communicate Face-to-Face!

Mayhem ensues as people are forced to actually *gasp* phone one another for social contact. Experts reeling. Could this happen to you? What you can do to prevent this atrocity from befalling you and your loved ones. We'll have tips at 11.

Yeah. Apparently people were really freaked out about this Twitter black out thing. Me...I was outside, in the company of an actual person, doing real-life things. By 5pm the "crisis" was averted and Tweeters were back on their collective electronic perches sharing details of their latest fruit smoothie.

And there was joy again in Tweetville.

In Which I Will Never Understand the Darkness in Some Men's Hearts...

Last night a 48 year old man donned his workout clothes, packed his gym bag with four firearms, walked into a dance class at his gym and shot 13 women, killing three of them.

My first thought when these horrendous events occur is, yet another boyfriend unable to accept the relationship is over and unwilling to allow another to be with "his girl". The old if-I-can't-have-her-no-one-will twisted logic which poisons the minds of too many disturbed men.

It is unclear if he had a relationship with any of the women present in that class last evening. He left a note in his bag, the contents of which have not been released by the police. He did, however, pen a manifesto online filled with red flags. These hate-filled ramblings indicate he planned to carrying out these cold-blooded killings in January, but "chickened out" at the last second. His words.

Of course no one read his diary prior to this horrifying incident. He was no one of note or notoriety. Why would anyone Google him and stumble upon his "diary". In fact, I would be surprised if anyone other than himself ever read it.

Until now.

Now everyone is reading it. Trying to figure out what would lead this relatively attractive man with a stable job and a modest home to take the lives of innocent women before turning the gun on himself. Ironic, isn't it.

Life is so light. It's like an outline.

All one can hope for is to surround oneself with those who would fill in that outline, and avoid those who would erase it. So hold your dear ones close. Tell them how much you love them. You never know if you'll have a tomorrow.

As long as I live, I will never understand the darkness in some men's hearts.

Sometimes You Just Have to Try Something New

or my afternoon with The Low Anthem

Okay, so I think of myself as having relatively eclectic taste in music. I run the genre between rock, pop, 40's (Dino to Cab Calloway), world, alt rock, alt country, singer songwriter...etc. But I'm ashamed to say that I rarely venture out to listen to a band with whom I'm unfamiliar.

This afternoon I decided to throw caution to the wind, stick my big toe outside of my cushy, musical comfort box, and head off to our public radio station for a free in-studio session of the relatively unknown-to-me group, The Low Anthem.

I know. I'm a rebel. You can't stop me.

Anywho, my past experience with this group is this: I've heard the name...probably heard a song played on the outstanding WYEP...but cannot connect the dots to save my life. I walked in the door (barely on time because parking is INSANE in the South Side! I was blocks and blocks away! There is like NO parking there! You can tell how exasperating it is to me by my excessive use of !!!) with an open mind and absolutely no expectations.

You know what...it wasn't the least bit painful. I mean, okay, it wasn't the most uplifting music I've ever heard. Nor was it the most energetic performance ever witnessed, but they were...interesting.

First off they played a random selection of traditional and unorthodox instruments. First couple songs included a rhythm guitar, upright bass and a clarinet mournfully played by the lone female of the group. Then they started pulling out the weird shit...an old pump organ they restored, an ancient, flat-ish tuba and a Crotales.

That was the oddest thing I've ever seen. According to Wikipedia, they are antique cymbals which can be played by striking the plates or bowing. Our lass chose the bow, resulting in quite the lovely, sorrowful sound.

Then for the ending of one song (I can't remember which), the singer, Jeff pulled out two cell phones set on speaker to create a whistling sound. That was pretty cool. All of these oddball elements resulted in a unique musical quality.

The thing that struck me as I observed these youngsters, was the difference in each member's stage presence. The bass/pump organ player was bedecked in his jazzy black hat, longer hair and made eye contact with the small crowd as he bopped around slightly to the beat of his upright.

The singer/guitar/horn/cell phone player stood stone still, head lowered, hair dangling over his down-cast eyes and rarely made contact with the onlookers even when answering questions from the host.

The girl...aaah, the girl was interesting. She had long blonde hair pushed to one side, waif-like. When she played the Crotales and especially the clarinet, she made up for all the non-movement of the other two. She would sort of prance in place, horse-like to a strange inner rhythm not played out in the song. And she never opened her eyes while singing or playing the clarinet.

Peculiar, but not unexpected. They're just babies really. They lack the confidence of seasoned performers and haven't quite figured out how they want to project themselves to the public. However, they were all very nice at the meet and greet. Humble without attitude.

Did I like The Low Anthem. Not really. Not at this point in their very young history anyway. Their music lacks the variety, the energy and punch which make me hot for a band. It all sounded a little too similar and doleful. But they're just pups, and have a long way to grow. Hopefully in a few years, their sound will be as compelling as their instrument choices.

Here's a clip from YouTube:

The Big Madonna Gun Controversy

and no, I'm not talking about weapons

Okay, so I open up a new page on Safari, and on Netscape's home page there's this big ole to-do about Madonna's arms. "Has she gone too far?" the headline reads.

YIKES!! I'd say, yes. WTF?!

You know the older she's gotten--with all the tightening of her face and the hollowing of her cheeks--the more she's started to look like Waylon Flowers' puppet, Madame. You remember them?

Or maybe it's Mrs. Chancellor from The Young and the Restless.

Either way. DAMN! Get a grip, Madge. You're almost 51. It ain't the end of the world. Give them guns a rest. And eat a hoagie while you're at it.

KA-CHUNK!!!!

or why I'll never be a successful knife thrower in the circus

Okay, so I'll admit it. I have a love/hate affair going on with my Santoku knife.

It is hands down (no pun intended) the GREATEST knife on this entire blue planet! Seriously. It's the only knife anyone ever needs. It's completely flat on the bottom so you can effortlessly chop through a line of veggies in no time flat. It makes cutting food a true joy. Look at how pretty it is. I LOVE IT!!

It also has a tendency to attack me.

No shit. I have more than one scar on my hand to attest to the occasional evil nature of my beloved blade.

Case in point... let us revisit last night, shall we. I had spiral cut a pineapple using a handy-dandy pineapple spiral cutting thingie to take along to Girl Fest at the Lake* this weekend. (This is a trip to Lake Erie me and my card club gal pals take every July. Loads of sun, fun and various alcoholic endeavors. Hey, we're girls...it's what we do.) As is illustrated in the photo, one is left with all the pineapple hugging the corer thingie in need of cutting off. I made the first cut... no problem. Spun the fruit a quarter turn and ... Ka CHUNK!!

My Santoku went rabid and attempted to chop my knuckle off!?! Seriously. Almost CHOPPED..IT..OFF!!

At first there was nothing. No pain. No blood. Then Holy CRAP! It hurt like a Son of a Bee-yatch. Blood was pouring forth like a burst pipe. For a moment I thought I'd hit an artery, but there are no arteries in fingers, right? It bleed through one bandage, then a second. When I finally got it wrapped sufficiently to stop making everything in site red, my first thought was "This is why Geo cringes when I wield a knife."

At least I didn't get any of my DNA in the fruit. I mean I love my girlfriends, but there are some things that just don't need to be shared.

Oh Santoku. Why you be hating on me so?

Yeah. Clearly I won't be joining the circus as a knife thrower any time soon.

Rhett on WAGA

This tour is taking it's toll on his voice. Still he gives it his all.

Yeah...I love him.

What's In Your Mole Skin?

or random tidbits from a fractured mind committed to scraps of paper scattered around the room, in pockets, in books...

Okay, so I'll admit I'm not the best housekeeper..HAHAHahahaha!! Even I couldn't say that with a straight face.

I am the WORST housekeeper. For real. I...HATE...TO...CLEAN!! Now that's not to say I don't like a clean house. I do. I just stink at the actual act of sanitizing. I can alwaysalwaysALWAYS find an excuse to get out of the tedious task.

That said...

I was cleaning our bedroom (yeah, how about that?) when I ran across all of these little strips of paper with random thoughts, observations and ideas for this here blog or my facebook/twitter status. The worst is when I'm in the car. I scribble all sorts of things... band names, new songs, vacation ideas...on whatever writing receptacle may be at hand. Odd how I seem to get the most inspiration while driving and unable to write things at length, because of the whole having-to-pay-attention-to-the-road thing. In classic Murray fashion, I put them on my dresser to wither and die a long, painful death without using their inspiring words in an attempt to entertain.

Some of them are actually amusing. Let's take a look-see at the pile o' scraps...

First up: Sodomy J. Balltickle

Ah, yes. That was a fantastic made-up bawdy name uttered by Jon Stewart about ... oh, six months ago!?! (You see how I keep things? It's an illness in need of a 12-step program)

Moving on:

Here's a sheet with four completely unrelated scribbles.

A list of the four words in the English language ending in "dous". Do you know what they are? Here's a hint: one of them is hazardous.

Metafilter.com and CocktailsandCocks.com (which I actually did talk about, I believe. Website K-Schnikes recommended.)

But wait, there's more on this sheet: SXSW (3/12-21) Music Badge $550 thru 9/26

And lastly, a note about writing about all my scraps of paper, etc...fittingly scribbled on this scrap of paper.

*Pineapple sage ? (I guess I saw it in someone's garden. Don't know if I want it for ours or...what.)

Don Tetto (Columbian on Myspace) and Birds on Wales* (I believe these are bands from this year's SXSW found on a blog which I found interesting at the time. Have I looked them up on MySpace...NO!)

Salim Nourallah "Constellation" new CD "So Down" "The World is Full of People" (The fabulous producer of Rhett's latest has music of his own worth a listen. Have I purchased them on iTunes...again, NO!)

Criminal Mimes Cerebral Flatulence Beer Bong Buoy ?? (Oh wait! A guy at work gave me these for my list of punk-rock band names, which I haven't added to the list. go figure.)

A sad note about my elderly neighbor who passed away. Aw. I'm going to have to actually write about that later.

Two Twitter Very Short Story ideas:

1. The interviewer asked "Where do you see yourself in 5 yrs?" The Reaper raised his boney finger to his chin, paused and said "Management".

2. The Career Counselor said, "So..your job just isn't satisfying anymore." Across the table the Reaper nodded.

The Weiner family: Peter, Fonda, Ivana, Ima, Iva, Harry and Eaton

And lastly:

"They're so fat, they won't stay wrapped... We're not talking about our waitresses." (An actual conversation in reference to a ginormous sandwich wrap we bought at the cafeteria. Thought that would make a great slogan for sub shop.)

This plethora of posthumous papyrus brings me to my next point. You may have picked up on the fact I belly ache about stupid crap. My latest being a lament about never having paper around when I need it. Enter Geo, my lovely, pragmatic and ever loving, patient hubby with a solution. A Mole Skin notebook made famous by the likes of Ernest Hemingway and other notable authors.

Excellent!

It's small enough to carry in my purse allowing me to jot at will anytime, anywhere keeping my ideas corralled in one place between the covers of its lovely leather binding. So...is this successful? Let's see what's in my Mole Skin, shall we?

Well, there are actually a half dozen pages of blog/status blurbs which were posted. Not bad. There are set lists from three Old 97's/Rhett Miller shows this summer. And then the back portion is filled with lists of Bands/songs I heard on the radio and books to borrow from the library. Oooo, hey! There's a gift card stuffed in here, too! Bonus!

So I guess the Mole Skin experiment is working out okay.

Now if I can only figure out how keep a pen around...