You want Christmas spirit before Thanksgiving? I’ve got some right here.
Overheard by John Salmon:
“You need to ask your surgeon a lot of questions, like what’s his mortality rate. Make sure his mortality rate is at least 98%.”
If you are a werewolf, and should the opportunity arise to rip out Kid Rock’s lungs, please do so. Listen to “All Summer Long,” and you will understand why.
Right now I’m playing loud music to drown out today’s treat: a bunch of no-longer-young drag queens lipsyncing to mediocre music down at the corner. No pictures; I want to forget the images, not share them with unwary visitors. There’s also an ice cream vendor playing tinny banjo recordings of teevee themes in the parking lot across the alley.
When the phone rings these days, I awkwardly rise out of my chair, lumber across the room with the walker and, struggling to not lose my balance, pick up the phone. It is a nuisance. I don’t mind making the efforts for friends and colleagues. However, when I put the receiver to my ear and hear a recording of a politician, I regret that I don’t know more maledictions. If you want to guarantee that I’ll never vote for you or any of your causes again, this is the way to do it.
Let’s take a break from ballet and look at some other kinds of dance. Via Mark Sullivan comes this example of dance as a martial art:
Bonus points if you can identify the pianist.
And there’s the dancing stormtrooper of Akihabara.
One more reason why I intend to remain the last person in North America without a cell phone.
If three women together mean “mischief,” what would, say, three geeks mean?
An epic win for the Japanese: the Gurren-Lagaan Jack.
Let’s get into the Olympic spirit:
The orange sticker man strikes again. (Here’s an example of his ecumenical spirit from last year.)