The End Of An Era...

I was sincerely saddened this morning by the news of Ted Kennedy's death.

He was many things to many people. A crusader for civil rights. The champion of the underdog. The last true liberal in the Senate. The voice of the disenfranchised. And yes, to some a criminal.

First and foremost, he was human.

He drank too much. He made mistakes. He made a HUGE mistake way back when in the marshy waters of Chappaquiddick. Do I think he used his name and family connections to get away with manslaughter. Sure. Few wealthy and influential people don't. But I also believe he spent the rest of his life trying to atone for that sin so long ago, committed by a man of a certain age who should have known better than to run.

He's the only one of the dashing Kennedy boys who was spared an assassin's bullet and got to sport a thick shock of grey hair into his 70s. Perhaps that was karma's gift to him--affording him the opportunity to make right of his wrong.

And boy, did he.

Many of the great social programs which help the middle class as well as those less fortunate exist in large part because of the Liberal Lion. He understood what makes this country so special. The bounty of the American Dream is for everyone. We are all in this together, and together we can accomplish great things.

He was the only one left of our fabled Royal Family. The beastly burden of legacy was involuntarily thrust upon his shoulders. He was the baby, for God's sake. His brothers' short lives left gi-normous shoes he was expected to fill. No wonder he drank. Seriously! Good Lord! With that kind of pressure, who wouldn't need to crawl into the bottom of a bottle for comfort. He eventually got his shit together, got his head straight and became one of the most productive Senators in Congress.

I think his brothers would have been proud.

Once upon a time, there was an idyllic mind-set called Camelot wherein hope lived. Where we all believed the world was good and nothing was impossible. Teddy was the last and the loudest member. Even though the original cast of this fictitious Eden have all passed away, their ideals live on. For that we all owe him a tip of the hat and an enormous thank you.

Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your compassion. Thank you for your resolve. You have served your country and its people very well indeed.

Now go on. Have fun with your brothers.

Knock, Knock... Cable Guy
bow-chicka-chicka-bow-bow!!

Okay, so as you may have guessed from the title, I had a visit from the cable guy this week. After we had a cigarette and he put his pants back on, he hooked up our digital cable and installed our new... DVR!!!!

That's right. Fred and Wilma Flintstone have leapt into the 90s and are the proud owners of a hard drive, TiVoesque, program recording thingie. And we are digging it, BABY!!

No more missing critical content of a live program when the phone rings, or the kitchen buzzer goes off or someone's wife bursts into the house after an evening out with the girls, hopped up on chips, chocolate and cocktails gushing with the "greatest dish, evah!! OMG!" that really can't wait until the commericial break because it's waaaaay too hilarious and seriously she has to get this out before she forgets it because, you know, she's wacky on the firewater and thiiiiis close to passing out and besides, she reallyreallyREALLY HATES to be shushed mid-manic mode even though she knows it totally bugs her husband to have his viewing pleasure disturbed especially at the pivotal "Aha!" moment of the show, but, come on, it IS all about her and... Wait, what was my point?

Oh yeah. You can pause the LIVE stream and resume watching WHERE YOU LEFT OFF because it is always recording!! Awe-freaking-some!!

Wooo Hoooo!!

Mountains of VHS tapes, you are soooo.... last Wednesday!

We still can't get our beloved Picture-in-Picture (or PIP) to work yet (I wrote of this lamentable fact here.) But, Woooo Hoooo!! just the same.

Now excuse me whilst I go online and sign up for classes at YabbaDabbaDo U to get my Engineering degree to run this thing.

When The Reaper Comes A Little Too Close For Comfort

My first real long-term boyfriend died suddenly of a heart attack this week.

That is one of the eeriest statements I have said in my life to date. Geo spotted his obituary in the paper. I don't read the obits, myself. Of course I don't read much of the paper in general anyway. But the obits, rarely if ever.

There was a lovely write up. Jim was married with two children. He had apparently got out of the journalism business (smart man) to coach hockey and other sports at a local affluent school district. According to the article, he had made quite a positive impact on the lives of the children with whom he dealt. A life well spent.

He was only 50 years old.

Fifty. That's all. And now his wife's a widow. Heart attacks aren't supposed to happen until your, like, in your seventies. And not to someone who's in good shape. Life is so fragile...

I hadn't seen or heard from him since he graduated, but it's sad and unsettling just the same. His death is like a big, fat punch of mortality to the gut. A little too close for comfort.

"It's A Mistake..."

or spending a sleepless night with Colin Hay

Okay, so the first thought that ran through my mind this morning at 3AM was, "NOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!?!"

The second thought was, "Coffee! Coffee! I need the caffeine-fueled, life-giving, chemically-inducing rejuvenation properties of coffee! I wonder how badly disfigured my face will be if I just shove my mouth under the coffee maker while the black gold is brewing?"

The alarm clock is a cruel, cruel mistress when one's only been asleep for three hours and has a full day ahead.

You see last night Geo and I spent a lovely evening out...on a school night...specifically, MY school night. Okay, it was Geo's school night, too, but he didn't have to get up at 3AM.

Did..Did I tell you I had to get up at 3AM? I think I did tell you I had to rise at 3AM. No? Well, I had to get up at 3AM!! Yeah. Can you believe it? I know. I'm such a hero. My workplace is planning to erect a statue in honor of my bravery and self-sacrifice.

Anywho...Colin Hay, former lead singer of the 80s Australian band Men At Work was performing at a local, quasi-dive bar touring in support of his latest CD "American Sunshine" which is excellent, by the way. (You can sample it here.) The show started at 8:00PM. Not a good sign, especially when yours truly had to get up for work at 3AM.

Did I tell you I had to... oh, yeah. I did.

This club is standing room only except for a few couches on the outer perimeter of the balcony. So Geo and I placed ourselves in what we perceived as the optimum viewing spot against the railing upstairs, overlooking the left side of the stage.

The opening local act, Aviation Blondes, was good and brief. Still by the time the roadies scrambled to clear their gear from the stage, it was a little after 9PM when Colin and company (including a long, raven-haired chippie wearing tight-fitting clothing) descended the stairway of the staging area to the blare of Scottish bagpipes. Here I always thought he was Australian. Turns out he's a Scott who emigrated to the great southern continent.

They opened with the atmospheric "Down by the Sea" to which the chippie starts to channel her inner Solid Gold/pole dancer. Seriously. She had a lot of space on stage and she was working it--floating her arms up and down, spinning with abandon, kicking and leaping, at times singing bits of back-up. She was actually distracting. She was also the absolute opposite of Mr. Hay's stone-still stature. She was all movement and dramatic interpretive dance. He was completely still except for the bob back of his head when he hit the high notes.

After about three songs:

Geo: She had to have been a stripper.

Me: Oh yeah! She totally needs a pole. I hope he's at least schtuping her.

Colin Hay: I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Cecilia.

Us: Aaaaaaah...

Anyway, she grew on us throughout the evening. Her abandon and complete lack of self consciousness was engaging and made us chuckle in a good way. She helped get the crowd stirred up. Although one dude on the floor kinda turned into creepy, stalker guy by constantly shoving his camera in her face, recording her all evening.

At first Colin was telling stories in between songs, tuning his guitar, chatting, tuning his guitar, and tuning his guitar. We could see the lengthy set list of about 25 songs from our vantage point. With all the talking (which we love) and tuning (not so much with the love)--Ohmigod! I thought we were going to be there until 1AM. But the time flew by.

He was So. Good. His voice all crystal clear and perfect pitch as he effortlessly belted out one song after another. He played about five from his new work--all very good--before launching into the tried and true crowd pleasers. He played every song I wanted to hear over the 2 1/2 hour, no encore set:

Beautiful World

Waiting for my Real Life to Begin

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

Who Can It Be

It's a Mistake

Overkill (my absolute fave, complete with a kick-ass, crowd sing-a-long)

The start of the first three songs was just him and his guitar, before the band joined in. It was beautiful, and made us long for him to come back again as a solo act. Of course, his Peruvian chip of a wife might have trouble doing those high kicks to quiet renditions. :D

All in all an evening well spent and well worth the lack of zzzzz's this morning...despite my bitching.

Did I tell you had to get up at 3AM?

Beautiful World--Hey, check it out! That's his wife, Cecilia on the right.

My all-time fave, OverKill. Live in Belfast. A story up front and you can hear everyone singing along.

My New Favorite Bloggess

or clown sex is terrifying, but funny in the proper hands (that's what she said)

Okay, so one of the fun things about Twitter is the sharing of links. Thanks to Kevin Pollak--yes, comedian/actor/William Shatner impersonator extraordinaire Kevin Pollak-- I am now hooked on one of the funniest bloggers next to Hey Lola!

May I introduce to you, Jenny thebloggess.com. She's middle aged, married, with a child, a Pug named Barnaby Jones Pickles and she is hysterical!! Prepare to be amused.

My maiden voyage down Bloggess Boulevard involves her righteous indignation at being blocked on Twitter by William Shatner. I kid you not. Captain Kirk put the breaks on our gal, spurring an actual interweb feud.

Oh, it's on.

Apparently she over tweeted him after an evening consuming a tad too much vino. She innocently stated something about inviting him to come to dinner in an attempt to save her marriage which then deteriorated to her talking about supplying him with a hooker.

See, further evidence real friends shouldn't let friends Tweet drunk. Otherwise said friend might suffer the Wrath of a Khanless Kirk. The Prince of Priceline apparently did not take kindly to the persistence of the Bloggess, no matter how well meaninged her intentions. Defense from the Twitterverse was fast and furious. Anywho, you can read the hilarious exchange here.

Her follow up posting questions Ole Bill's need to mock her by posting this tweet:

The gloves are definitely off now. Ha Ha Ha!! You can read her response here. P.S.: I still love Bill, feud or no.

Jenny is a busy gal. Not only does she blog about all-things-William Shatner, she writes for the Houston Chronicle on Good Mom/Bad Mom, shares her unique perspective on an advice blog (not to be heeded) and pens a "satirical sex column" whose tag line is Sex is funny. Except clown sex. That's fucking terrifying.

Her first post... "Clown porn is not as funny as you think it's going to be".

Anyone who knows me, knows how much I hate clowns, but after reading this (and catching my breath from riotus laughter) I was hooked. Seriously. If I had a mouthful of liquid, it would totally have sprayed out of my mouth...she's that funny. Do yourself a favor and read this... then just keep reading.

Other notable essays:

"An open letter to husbands and boyfriends about the guys we (surprisingly) DO and DON'T want to have sex with"

"Warning: Some penises are actually a combination of penises and testicles. I call them 'Penisticles'"

"The Bloggess: Porn for the Blind"

So, thank you Kevin Pollak for the heads up. You're.... my.. hero.

Dear John: Long Time No See

or revisiting an old, dear internet friend

Okay, so lately I've been wasting ...er, spending an inordinate amount of time discovering a number of interesting websites & blogs via different sites. And by "different sites", I mean Twitter: the Mother-of-all-time-suck that actually enables one to stumble on cool stuff and interesting articles or groovy videos or best-of lists or other random crap you didn't know you were interested in until someone tweeted it and you feel compelled to click on it because, you know, that person actually took the time to cut and paste the address and it would be rude if you didn't at least take a fleeting glimpse at it and.. Good God!?! how is it I have been sitting here at the computer for three hours in my PJs and bed-head hair when I was only going to take 15 minutes to check email?!?

Yeah. That Twitter.

Anywho, during my internet incarceration, I've neglected to keep up with one of my favorite YouTube bloggers, the one and only young adult author John Green. (His tomes are great reads, especially "An Abundance of Katherines". Go buy it.) John is a quick-witted, literate and extremely charming self-proclaimed Nerd. He also has a tendancy to run his hands through his hair when he's upset or nervous, causing a puff factor which has at times reached as high as four inches.

He and his brother, Hank started a video project over two years ago on YouTube in an attempt to get to know one another better. They have successfully created a devout virtual Nerdfighteria empire complete with over 100,000 followers. They now have a music label, sell tons of merchandise and inspire thousands to volunteer and do good works to help reduce world suck. They're really sweet, noble guys. I wrote about them here. Their meteoric internet rise is pretty incredible. Almost as incredible as his crazy-ass coiffure.

Seriously. Look at that thing. It's HUGE! It's so spacious I think there's a family of migrant workers homesteading in the clearing of that Green Forest.

Today I got a chance to catch up on his videos from the last few months. I'd forgotten how much I missed his humor and unique take on the world. Watching his antics again is like eating a big bowl of comfort food on a cold, winter night or slipping into my favorite pair of jeans.

Here are some of the highlights from today's viewing. The brothers Green created an online game named "Truth or Fail". Here's John's entertaining contribution.



One of their very early videos discussed the endless humor of placing the phrase "in your pants" after book titles like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being ...In Your Pants". This also works well when paired with fortune cookie fortunes. As Seinfeld's Banya would say, "That gold, Jerry! Gold!"



He regularly answers viewers questions onTuesdays...known as "Question Tuesdays"



And, of course, he eats weird, disgusting food stuffs like fat sandwiches as punishment for our enjoyment...off of Fiesta Ware, no less.



Yeah. I've missed you John Green.

Friday Photo #29

Okay, so a couple of weeks ago Geo and I were heading into town to attend a swanky soiree in the Cultural District. We drove out of the Ft. Pitt Tunnels (the most awesome city approach EVAH!) and .. Viola! are treated to a full-on rainbow arcing above our city.

Sadly, no lucky leprechaun was guarding his gold nuggets at the end of said rainbow, but there was a colorful crazy donning a foil hat, size 13 red pumps and feather boa diddling on his penny whistle... He was also playing a recorder.

Hey-OOOO!! Badda Bing! I'm back, BABY!!