Happy scraps

had a rough day and tomorrow bodes more of the same. But nobody wants to hear about that, not even your grandmother. So instead here is a list of reasons for the tommmmmmmmmy to be happy:

I still smell OK after a rough day

Spatulas are awesome and useful

My honeyface is very nice to me

my dogs always want to show how much they love me in the face

I have two Marx Brothers DVD box sets

I am not worried that the microbe Candida albicans exhibits a dimorphic growth pattern

My nose is prominent

The fan-light in my bathroom is sweet

I have enough clean socks for the week

There is no draft

I am handy with a hammer

I like to move-it move-it

My begonias are very healthy

There is a piece of apple pie in the fridge

My sisters call me "Buddy"

I have great hair

my neighborhood sewers do their job

******************

OK, I feel much better. feel free to recomend any additions

achy achy, hands off sn...

SO my whole being hurts. I spent the weekend with the annual bastages in the woods abusing our livers and requantifying those parts of the brain reserved for obscenity and also chopping wood. And now i hurt so good.

The annual trip with the annual bastages serves to truly coalate my mind and give voice to the socially unacceptable yawps that take root somewhere in the deepest catacombs of twentyfirst century lives.

viva la camping.

dancing gridiron brooms

So-
I am thinking of starting a FANTASIA FOOTBALL league. It would be like fantasy football but you hear The Ride of the Valkyries every time you log in...

some films to avoid

Over the past several days we watched several movies that fell short of expectations. First Loverboy. Kevin Bacon directed what was intended to be a story of a damaged mother and her lover for her son. Though she is delusional and overbearing, we are meant to see the Anne Shirley-esque wonder with which she observes the world and escapes the truths of it. In actuality, we see pain, abuse, and selfishness. What is intended to be honest, tender, and compelling is, in fact, grotesque. A portrayal of an embittered and insane character, does not an art film make. The story is unique and creative, yet it relies too heavily on caricature. The focus meanders and leaves the viewer feeling not like a participant, nor witness, nor judge, nor juror; but like a movie viewer relieved to see the credits roll.
Another disappointment came in the form of Mike White's Year of the Dog. This one begins very humbly but with great power. he expertly introduces the characters, gives them meaning, and then subtly and deliberately hits several emotional chords. Then, half an hour in, he radically changes direction and again chooses caricature over character. These very people that so recently seemed multidimensional are now hammered flat. We are allowed a few glimpses of humanity several more times, but each quickly springs a leak.

dan band

Please enjoy responsibly: explicit lyrics



later perhaps a discussion of officially placed signs in public restrooms. until then, I'm peter venkman saying.....

Grazi, Maestro!

Here with Sting.

The Ice(pak) Man Cometh

I spend lengthy parts of the year paying little to no attention to sports. I will glance at scores on news websites, hear vague details on the radio and on tv and that's about it. But now and then (yes at the begining and end of seasons) my interest is peaked and I pay closer attention. This is one of the latter periods: fantasy draft, Tigers trying to eke, and the Mountaineers giving all the (sc) U M people a well deserved humbling. And tonight, my wife's favorite Tiger pitcher returns to the mound. The Gambler will either revitalize our injury plagued league champs, or will emcee his own curtain call. but either way, Honeyface will probably let me watch some of the game. If I agree to help her put together her roster for this weeks fantasy match.

And here's hoping The Maestro feels better.