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Archive for February, 2006

Like a bird on a wire

My friend Lord Somber hates when people post what they’re currently listening to, reading, watching, pluggin, etc. In the interest of annoying him, I revisited my Leonard Cohen greatest hits CD recently and was reminded why I listened to it for almost a year nonstop. He’s a master; the British apparently think he’s depressing (and he is) but in that really bittersweet way. As usual, a few lyrics:

Oh, you’ve seen that man before/
his golden arm dispatching cards/
but now it’s rusted from the elbow to the finger/
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter/
Yes, he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter/
You hate to watch another tired man/
lay down his hand/
like he was giving up the holy game of poker/

~The Stranger Song

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof/
You saw her bathing on the roof/
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya/
She tied you to her kitchen chair/
She broke your throne, she cut your hair/
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah/

~Hallelujah


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Herdling

Meet my new nephew, Jackson Glenn Lee. I FREAKIN’ LOVE HIM!!!!!

He’s my fourth nephew. I have one lone niece who is very delicate and petite but has essentially learned that, if she wants to remain physically intact, she’ll play with the big boys, as it were. I can relate. Her brothers refer to her as “the devil.” My father calls them all “the thundering herd.” Sparing feelings was never really something that went on in my family…

Anyway, Jackson looks a lot like my brother — same sort of intensity around the eyes.

Kids are cool.

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The death of emapthy


Okay so here’s something I don’t get: When did it become a sign of weakness to show compassion? And I don’t mean all that white-man’s burden, macrocosmic compassion for the future of the dung-beetle type of compassion — I mean the human, day-to-day compassion for the dude who may be going through a hard time and is acting a bit cagey or the woman who’s kid is ill so she’s difficult to talk to (these are just examples, mind you…). Why is everything schadenfreude? Not everything is funny and sometimes people need to be given a freakin’ break. Even if it’s hard and you must swallow your pride a little. This ability — I believe — is actually the prime divide between humanity and other higher organisms, as opposed to the popular conception that the ability to reason is what really separates the species. I think it’s the ability to empathize. And we waste it every day. That pisses me off.

Oh and, for the record, some things are really really funny. The ability to separate who needs to be laughed at and who just needs — ahem — a hug is also a decidedly human ability. As far as I’m concerned, the jackass in the red Miata pulled over by the cops can get laughed at every time.

I’m just sayin’…

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Through the Looking Glass

Man, I love computer/music nerds. This guy has developed a databse that tells you the # 1 song on any date (presumably since 1958 when Billboard started keeping such records).

Mine (August 25, 1972) is “Brandy, You’re a Fine Girl” which is a song my college roommate introduced me to in, say, 1992.

Brandy, you’re a fine girl/
What a good wife you would be/
But my life, my love and my lady/
Is the sea

Little did I understand the significance… . I feel oddly the same as when I found out that Elvis Costello and Sean Connery were both born on my birthday. Arbitray coincidence cannot stop delusions of grandeur, my friends.

Go here to find out what people liked on the day you entered this world.

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Go West young skank


This is the funniest sentence ever (pardon the hyperbole…):

“Paris Hilton was partying at Tao over the weekend, being the classy woman of sophistication we’ve all come to know and love. Either nobody taught her you’re not supposed to spread your legs in a short dress, or she’s some sort of fashion pioneer. Like Davy Crockett, but instead of exploring the frontiers of the West, she explores the frontiers of being a whore.”

Check the pic (if you dare) here.

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Where’s the love?


Right on Hitch.

A small democratic country with an open society, a system of confessional pluralism, and a free press has been subjected to a fantastic, incredible, organized campaign of lies and hatred and violence, extending to one of the gravest imaginable breaches of international law and civility: the violation of diplomatic immunity. And nobody in authority can be found to state the obvious and the necessary—that we stand with the Danes against this defamation and blackmail and sabotage. Instead, all compassion and concern is apparently to be expended upon those who lit the powder trail, and who yell and scream for joy as the embassies of democracies are put to the torch in the capital cities of miserable, fly-blown dictatorships. Let’s be sure we haven’t hurt the vandals’ feelings.

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Thanks Lord Somber.

The Empire Brokeback

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