"For One 9/11 Family, Five Waves of Grief"

from today's New York Times
full article here. written by Dan Barry of the Times for the "About New York" column.

Professor Gurland of NYU's philosophy department once told my class that the true evil of the Holocaust or the Turkish genocide of the Armenians or any such act can only be measured if you consider what it would be like, how long it would take, to meet and shake the hand of every victim, to consider each individual affected, to turn the numbing numbers into individual people.

. . . . .

The other day Al and Ginger Petrocelli learned that some remains of their son, Mark, had been identified. Again. Which meant that it was time to visit the funeral home. Again. Time to cremate. Again.

This was the fifth time in the last two years that parts of Mark Petrocelli had been identified. Mark Petrocelli, 28: husband of Nicole, son of Al and Ginger, younger brother of Al Jr., uncle of Emily, friend of many. The fifth time.

[...]

"This time," the father said, "from his left knee down to the top of his foot. Right femur with right lower leg and kneecap. Some skin. A piece of skull bone. Soft tissue. Muscle."

[...]

The phrases we rely on to make sense of grief have always failed to convey the ache of the irreplaceable. But even with the grace of two years, the World Trade Center collapse continues to render meaningless such terms as "closure" and "moving on."

Acceptance may be a better word, acceptance of how the event has become incorporated in our everyday lives — in who we are. At least that is how your neighbors the Petrocellis see it. The Petrocellis, one wounded family among thousands.

[...]

Mark Petrocelli, a commodities trader for Carr Futures, was attending a meeting on the 92nd floor of the north tower, which says it all in the parlance of post-9/11.But the Petrocellis did not know this on that day. Al Petrocelli, a retired battalion chief with the Fire Department, and Al Jr., also a firefighter, raced to Lower Manhattan after the attack.

The father remembered feeling a can-do sense of mission, an echo from his days as a firefighter and as a soldier in Vietnam. "I thought that `I could go down there and I'll find Mark,' " he said. But reality set in with the rain that fell two days later, he said. "I came home and said, `No way.' "

[...]

On Sept. 25, 2001, the Petrocellis learned that Mark's death had been confirmed through dental records. On Oct. 26, they were told that his upper torso had been identified. On Nov. 11, some soft tissue and muscle. On March 21, 2002, four parts, including his heart.

"They found his heart," Mrs. Petrocelli said. "What do you say?"

. . . . .
for more on the two-year anniversary, visit "September 11, 2003" at The New York Times website.

Writer's Almanac

The Writer's Almanac is one of my favorite things on the radio. It never takes very long, maybe about ten minutes, but in that time, the quiet, calm, comforting voice of Garrison Keillor tells of a few writers, poets, publishers born on that particular day, with a short biography for each, as well as any literary events of historical import which may have happened way back when, then recites a poem or two, different each day. It's folksy, highly literate and educational in the best sense of all three. I'm always happy when I manage to catch it on NPR in the morning (or evening, depending upon the local station's programming schedule).

Battle Instructions

I am taking a tiny break from studying Japanese. I have most of the conversations from the section memorized (Hajimemashite. Mochizuki desu. Doozo yoroshiku. etc.), but the hiragami introduced on Thursday is escaping me. I keep mixing up shi and su, which is stupid, and I'm forgetting the stuff I'd already memorized, like ke and e and u, which is even stupider.

Anyway, to entertain myself, I decided to open up the Helm's Deep Battle Figures box I got on sale from Toys'R'Us when I was with my sister. (It was on sale! It had Legolas! I had to!) As I was removing the figures from an entanglement of plastic-coated security wires, I discovered a sheet in the box entitled "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Helm's Deep Battle Set Instruction Sheet." Turns out these action figures have their own Middle-Earth-type kung-fu action, as follows:

• Haldir (a.k.a., The Ugly Elf Who Was Sent To Die)
  ... "Bow Attack Action" : he shoots arrows!
  
• Legolas (a.k.a., The Pretty Elf With Mad Skillz Who Will Never, Ever Die)
  ... "Weapon Wielding Action" : uh, he holds his sword, bow, or daggers (like unto kung-fu action grip, only with weapons).
  ... "Weapon Storage" : well, you can store lots of weapons, like arrows and the two nifty, long daggers. not really action, is it, unless you're into sheathing swords, which has connotations of its own.
  (I suspect Gimli enjoys this particular "battle action.")
  (the excess of weaponry may explain why the Pretty Elf outlives the Ugly Elf, other than Legolas is Too Pretty To Die.)
  ... "Arrow-Launcing Action" : you can shoot arrows from Pretty Elf's bow while he holds the bow, permitting reenactments of the Helm's Deep Orc-killing Competition between Legolas and his life partner, Gimli.
  
• Gimli (a.k.a., The Pretty Elf's Life Partner)
  ... "Axe-Throwing Action" : entails "Axe-Loading," which is not unlike Legolas's Weapon Wielding Action, except Gimli then throws to axe when you squeeze his legs together. neat!
  (except for maybe the leg-squeezing, which is, ah, kinda, um, gay.)
  ... he also has a removeable helmet and lots of axes which he can toss like dw-, uh, mad. like mad.
  
• King Theoden (a.k.a., The King)
  ... "Sword-Slashing Action" : you stick the sword in his hand, press a button, and swoosh! a killer sword-swooshing move!
  ... he, too, has a removeable helmet, protecting that royal head until, um, later, and, like the others, has a nice sheath to hold his manly-type sword.
  
• Aragorn (a.k.a., Still Not King)
  ... "Sword-Slashing Action" : same as King Theoden's.
  ... he has the sheath for protection of man-sword, but no helmet. I guess 'cause he's not king yet.
  ... he does have a dagger hidden behind his left arm, so you know he's going to make it through all three films: the more weaponry, the more likely the character represented by the action figure is going to survive.

I shall now have the five of them introduce themselves to each other in Japanese.

Sumimasen. Legolas-san desu ka?
Hai, soo desu.
Gimli desu. Hajimemashite. Doozo yoroshiku.
Legolas desu. Hajimemashite. Doozo yoroshiku.

Ah, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. sniff

addendum
Please note Haldir also has a removeable helmet, but seeing as the orc got him in the back (bad form!), the helmet didn't do Ugly Elf much good. Maybe he should give it to Aragorn? Or maybe Aragorn took it after cradling Dead Haldir, knowing Ugly Elf wouldn't need it to protect his unattractive head anymore.

addendum-addendum
Also, I am fully aware it was mostly, if not all, uruk-hai attacking Helm's Deep. I'm just too lazy to type out "uruk-hai" when necessary.

Also, I forgot.

Maggie and the Cats

While waiting for the 61-page excerpt from Boethius's The Consolation of Philosophy my professor wants us to read for Monday to print from its webpage, I poked through The Village Voice Best of New York 2002 Procurables section, when I found this:

Best Place To Buy a Kitty- KITTYKIND ADOPTION
Kittens are just so CUTE, aren't they? The way they crawl onto your lap, nose into grocery bags, and—oh!—join you in your soft, warm, comfortable . . . sleepy . . . bed . . . zzzzz. Wake up! It's morning, the sun is streaming through the window, and kitty wants to cuddle. Kitty, who wouldn't instantly fall in love with you? A meanie, that's who. Aren't kittens so snuggly and wonderful? Get one! Get a whole furry, writhing basketful! At KITTYKIND ADOPTION, inside of Petco. -Nick Catucci

Please note the person who wrote this ode to tiny felines is named Catucci.

This passage, naturally, made me think of Maggie. Well, it made me think of me, then Maggie, Queen of the Kittens, General of the Kitten Army. Mew!

(This made me think of Hal:

Best Place To Buy a Sloth- OBSCURA ANTIQUES & ODDITIES

. "An animal lover can take home her very own sloth, stuffed for posterity and posing on a tree segment, for $750. Conversely, a germophobe can confront his fears with a wax anatomical model of a face infected with lupus, rabies, or other diseases (prices vary). They also carry [...] decorative items made of human hair.")

Bookstore!! Bookstore!! Boooooooks!!!!

I have a weakness for books. I have slowly developed a resistance to the siren call of web-shopping, keeping my purchases on Amazon.com low-ish and infrequent-ish. However, when I get into a bookstore, an honest-to-goodness, in the flesh bookstore, my spine shatteres to bits and pieces. It wasn't so bad at first. First trip to shop for books this semester was at the campus bookstore, which is badly run and ill-stocked and over-priced. Resistance was easy. Next stop, however, my spine splintered within five minutes. I went to a local independent bookstore called Book House. It's a nifty store, the kind I like to wander in just to see what-all's on the shelves.

Lots was on the shelves. There's a little hallway between the grown-up bookstore and the kids bookstore (called The Little Book House) with really great cards for new babies and birthdays and random mailing. And there were displays. I broke first at the display for Neil Gaiman. I already had Coraline, which is super-good, yet I felt compelled to pick up a copy of Wolves in the Walls.

It's just one book, I told myself. One extra book won't kill me.

Thing is, this is like a disease. Like an addiciton. It starts with one book, yes, but quickly becomes seven more. This is me being restrained, though, as it could easily have been seventeen more, including the Pengiun edition of Alexander Dumas's The Black Tulip, which I even picked up, looked at, then placed back on the shelf. No, Sugar Kat. Baaad Sugar Kat, I told myself. (This was before the breakdown at the Gaiman display.)

Here is what I bought.

• Wolves in the Walls, Neil Gaiman
  illustrated by Dave McKean, natch
  
• Lullaby, Chuch Palahniuk
  
• Civil War Stories, Ambrose Bierce
  one of the books for another class which was just lying there in the campus bookstore this afternoon, costing only $1.50 and softly calling my name
  
• How To Be Good, Nick Hornby
  
• Notes From Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky
  (translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky)
  
• The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Vol. 1), Alan Moore, et al
  
• The Night in Question, Tobias Wolff
  one of the authors we're reading then meeting this semester in my Contemporary Writers at Work class; I bought this because we read one of his short stories from this collection in the first class and I really, really liked it
  
• Why We Can't Wait, Martin Luther King, Jr.
  this was one of the "recommended" books listed in my History of the Civil Rights Movement course syllabus

Not as bad as it could have been, but a heck a lot of money added to a couple of long book lists required by my professors.

I Got To Say sensei

I have a long break between classes on Tuesdays, so I thought I'd hang out at the computer lab until my next class. The writing professor I need to give me an SKN so I can get into my fourth class still hasn't returned any of my messages and he hasn't been in his office. Granted, his class doesn't start until, like, four, but I was hoping he'd be in so I could beg him (politely) to let me into this required course. I'm trying not to panic, as there's little I can do at this point. Focus on the positive, right?

Had my first Japanese class today. I was pursuaded to take Japanese instead of Chinese (Mandarin) by my friend, C--, who is from Taiwan and is a native speaker and essay and caligraphy contest winner back in Taiwan (Mandarin). He said I'd learn to read faster in Japanese. "You'll get frustrated," he said. "It would take you too long to learn to read Mandarin." Except that there's still memorization, right? I have to memorize the hiragama and kanji (the Chinese characters). Twenty-four this semester. That's all. Just twenty-four. Still, I'm hoping I'll learn to read Japanese and not have to rely on translators for my novels. I still want to learn Mandarin, as the translations appear to be even worse (very stilted, make the most exciting stories boring with crappy English), but I got scared. I'm not a spring chicken. Still, Japanese is going to be one hell of a challenge for a rapidly aging round-eye like myself. We shall see.

It was fun to sit in class. Most of the students appear to be Chinese, with a couple Korean and then the typical white suburban-with-urban-pretentions geeks. They have the uniform. The hair, the trenchcoat, the bags, the shoes/boots. They're kind of cute, these young 'uns. Kawaii-cute, not drool!-cute. Definitely not drool!-cute.

Today was mostly warning us how hard it will be to learn Japanese if you have a European background. We learned, in romanji, Nihongo ("Japanese language"), and she taught us to call her Kaya-sensei (though she wrote it "sensee" on the board, which would be pronounced very differently) and called us [family name]-san, and told us to respond "hai!" when called on during rollcall, the latter three of which I naturally knew already being the anime geek that I am. We were assigned Japanese family names which she'll use all semester. Little cards with the kanji in thick black marker, the romaji above in ballpoint and the hiragama (pronounciation guide) below the kanji in blue ballpoint, with translation into English in same. My new Japanese name is Mochizuki, which translates as hope moon (mochi being "hope" and zuki being "moon," apparently).

You can call me Mochizuki-san from now on.

She told us we could trade for another name if we didn't like ours. I was tempted to ask for a simpler name, but then I thought, "Hope is a good thing with which to start a new language and moon is the planet for Cancer, which is my sign. It should be okay."

I just hope my handwriting improves soon when writing the kanji and hiragama. Ugggggly. Seriously ugly. I'm so ashamed!

Anyway, when class was over and we were packing up our things, it took me a while to get my stuff together as I wanted to take a picture of the giant sliding ruler above the chalkboard, which was just too cool to ignore, and rearrange my backpack. I realized I wanted to ask the professor if she had ordered the textbook from the cheaper retailer downtown and actually called her Kaya-sensei to get her attention, which made her smile at me. I was so happy!

I love learning a new language. It's so cool. When I was a kid, one of my life goals was to learn as many languages as humanly possible. My goals have lessened a great deal since then, but I'd still like to learn a lot of languages, in spite of the difficulties. I'm lucky that my brother-in-law is French and my newphew is learning French so I can pick it up again from them, and I want to return to German eventually. It so comparatively easy to learn European languages, I'm ashamed I don't know the ones I learned better and haven't learned more. I'd like to get at least one Middle Eastern language under my belt and at least two Far Eastern, and all of the Celtic languages, dead and living, and Ancient Greek (I still don't like Latin, but I think I'll have to return to it to consider myself literate). We'll see. That's a lot of money and time, and I'm neither wealthy nor very young. At least I'm getting started on Japanese, though. It's taken me long enough to get up the gumption. We'll see how I do at the advanced age of thirty. (Old fart.)

HAPPY LABOR DAY

I hope all of my readers are enjoying this holiday weekend in fine style. I hope few to none of you are suffering from the gray, rainy, crappy day my mom and I are. I hope you get to use the barbeque and swim and play music loudly and run around and see movies and read books and sleep in late and play video games and not do a single stitch of work you don't want to do.

Let us now bow our heads for the poor, unlucky bastards who actually have to work on Labor Day.












Sucks to be them.

Hope work tomorrow doesn't suck at all for you all. For those of you who may be starting classes soon (like I'm starting tomorrow), I hope you got into all the classes you wanted/needed and have a great semester.

Wish me luck dealing with the morons from English Advisement who 1) didn't give me the code numbers to get into the major-specific courses, 2) have messed up the allocation of classes from my transcript AGAIN, 3) refuse to return my many messages.

I wish nasty diseases upon them. Nasty, flesh-eating diseases which cannot be transmitted to the poor English majors who have to deal with them, too. Please join me in thinking bad thoughts in the general direction of Those Who Claim They Are English Advisement But Are Actually Just There To Make English Majors' Lives Hell.












Thank you. Bless you.

(I really do dislike them. Especially the professor in charge. She's...evil. And she lies. She's an evil lying liar who makes all of our lives hell. In the English Department, that is.)

Now, go have fun, kiddies! And, remember! No wearing white shoes after Labor Day. It may have been deemed acceptable by those sad, drug-addled freaks who run the fashion shows, but it's still tacky, darling.

Unless they're sneakers. Then you're being sporty and that's just fine. You'll be the Ugly Spice Girl, but you'll be rich, so who cares?

Geek

My hands hurt and my breathing's funny from inhaling tiny bits of the lawn and I'm kinda sweaty (ick!) after mowing the lawn, but I thought I'd check my e-mail before I hopped into the shower. Surprise, surprise, my brother sent me an e-mail. What did my dear, darling younger brother send me? A note telling me how his life is going? A good luck note on starting the new semester? Encouragement in my quest to obtain a driver's license? No, of course not. He sent me a link to The Geek Test. I scored 37.47535%, or "Major Geek," which is middling on the list of results, which ranges from "Geekish Tendencies" to "Dysfunctional Geek." I've a feeling my friends would score better than I. I am somewhat ashamed of this. Still, I wonder if my brother's surprised I didn't score higher. My dear, darling brother.

grr! arg!

arg! grr!

There Should Be A Parent's Exam, Like A Driver's Test, Before You Are Allowed To Breed And Raise Your Own Young

Couple Accused of Keeping Twins, 5, Caged

... When police arrived at the home they found the children inside two cribs that had been wired together and sealed by plastic crates. Roaches filled the cages, which contained a blanket and small mattress stained with feces and urine. ... Investigators believe the boys were released from the cages for a few hours a day when their mother returned from work.

I Don't Listen To Radio

I used to know the call letters of almost every station I could receive from my home in Fairfield County, Connecticut. I knew when my favorite shows were on, which D.J.s played the music I wanted to hear generally when I wanted to hear it. I was nearly as knowledgeable about local radio when I lived in the suburbs of Washington during the Regan years. Now, however, I know nothing of local (Albany) stations. I know which station plays Yankees games and where the NPR station is, generally, but nothing else. I haven't listened to the radio a quarter as much as I used to. Instead, I'll listen to the AOL "Radio", where I can choose the genre, or mess around on radio station sites, like the BBC, which lets me listen to specific movements of pieces by Musorgsky if I want to. Jazz, pop, classical, celtic, j-pop, canto-pop, you name it, you can find a place on the internet where you can listen to it for free, no commercials, most of the time without even the annoyingly chatty D.J.. It's a wonderful, wonderful thing. However, I still wish I had some use for my radio other than listening to Sterling and Steiner wax pontifical on the Yankees.

"In Courtroom, Laughter at Fox and a Victory for Al Franken"

August 23, 2003

By SUSAN SAULNYA federal judge in Manhattan told Fox News yesterday that it had to learn how to take a joke. Then he rejected the network's request for an injunction to block the satirist Al Franken from using the words "fair and balanced" on the cover of his book, "Lies, and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right."

Calling the motion "wholly without merit, both factually and legally," the judge, Denny Chin of United States District Court, said that a person would have to be "completely dense" not to realize the cover was a joke, and that trademark protection for the phrase "Fair and Balanced" was unrealistic because the words are so commonly used.

Lawyers for Mr. Franken and his publisher, Penguin Group (USA), called the ruling a victory for the First Amendment. Mr. Franken was not in court.

"I never really had any doubt," he said in a telephone interview, calling the ruling "a victory for satirists everywhere, even the bad ones. In addition to thanking my own lawyers, I'd like to thank Fox's lawyers for filing one of the stupidest briefs I've ever seen in my life."

The Fox court papers had referred to Mr. Franken, a former "Saturday Night Live" writer and performer and an unabashed liberal, as a "parasite" who appeared shrill, unstable and "increasingly unfunny."

The network could appeal the decision. "We are considering our options," said Paul Schur, a Fox spokesman. "We don't care if it's Al Franken, Al Lewis or Weird Al Yankovic. We're here to protect our trademark and our talent."

If anything, the lawsuit only benefited Mr. Franken. His book had been scheduled for release in September, but the publicity caused the publisher to print an extra 50,000 copies, for a total of 435,000, and to roll the book out on Thursday.

After the ruling yesterday, it moved to the No. 1 spot on the best-seller list at amazon. com.

The network filed for the injunction on Aug. 11. Fox News Network trademarked the phrase "Fair and Balanced" in 1998 to describe its news coverage, and network lawyers claimed that Mr. Franken's use of the phrase in his book would "blur and tarnish" it.

Fox also objected to the use of a picture of Bill O'Reilly, one of its prominent news personalities, on the cover, claiming that it could be mistaken as an endorsement of the book.

But these arguments were met by laughter in the crowded courtroom, as Fox tried to defend its signature slogan. Part of the network's burden was to prove that Mr. Franken's use of the phrase "fair and balanced" would lead to consumer confusion.

One round of laughter was prompted when Judge Chin asked, "Do you think that the reasonable consumer, seeing the word `lies' over Mr. O'Reilly's face would believe Mr. O'Reilly is endorsing this book?"

The giggling continued as Dori Ann Hanswirth, a lawyer for Fox, replied, "To me, it's quite ambiguous as to what the message is here."

She continued, "It does not say `parody' or `satire.' "

Ms. Hanswirth said Fox's "signature slogan" was also blurred, because people who were not associated with the network, which owns the Fox News Channel, also appear on the cover with Mr. O'Reilly.

Judge Chin said, "The president and the vice president are also on the cover. Is someone going to consider that they are affiliated with Fox?"

The courtroom broke into laughter again.

Ms. Hanswirth replied, "It's more blurring, your honor."

After more discussion about what was and what was not satire, and about the definition of "parody," Judge Chin decided that Mr. Franken's work was of "artistic value."

"Parody is a form of artistic expression protected by the First Amendment," he said. "The keystone to parody is imitation. In using the mark, Mr. Franken is clearly mocking Fox."

He said Mr. Franken's work was "fair criticism."

Judge Chin said the case was an easy one, and chided Fox for bringing its complaint to court. The judge said, "Of course, it is ironic that a media company that should be fighting for the First Amendment is trying to undermine it."

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

My Very Own Legolas

I have Legolas. Life-size, in all his prince-of-the-wood-elves glory. My sister gave him to me as a late birthday present. He is mine, eyes staring soulfully at me whilst I sleep. He is, unfortunately, two-dimensional, but he is still very pretty and he is very much mine. Mine, mine, mine.

Please note: My sister got me my very own Legolas by preordering the widescreen DVD of the theatrical release version of The Two Towers at FYE. 2-D Legolas was "free with purchase," but only at the actual meat-person store. If you go to FYE and make such preorder, you, too, Dear Reader, can have your very own Legolas, pretty and standing tall, but I doubt yours will stare as soulfully at you while you sleep as mine does.

Legolas! O my Legolas!

I now open up the comments section to poetry entries regarding my life-sized, soulful-eyed and super-pretty two-dimensional Legolas.

I Made My Nephew Cry

It was very easy. I told the both of them that if they got up from the table with food in their hands, meaning wandering around and eating, they would have an extra ten minutes of practice on their respective instruments (J-- viola, P-- piano). This was a rule I set up while watching over them yesterday morning/afternoon while my sister was at work trying to get the school's computer system up and running before the semester starts and the teachers freak. (My poor sister.) They spent their lunch popping up from the table and running about the house, dropping bits of food all over the place. I'm not that patient with that sort of behavior. (S-- doesn't act that way and never has.) So I reminded the both of them of the rule as they sat down to eat their lunch today. Of course, being who they are (meaning, not half as well-behaved as S--), they broke the rule. When I told them they both had an extra ten minutes of practice for breaking the rule, the elder (J--) nodded his head in almost a "It's a fair cop" kind of way, but the younger (P--) went back to the table and cried. Please note that while J-- generally has fifteen minutes of practice (now twenty-five), P-- has thirty minutes, which has now been pumped up to forty. Forty minutes of playing the piano. I suppose I can see why he sat and wept while he ate the rest of his soup, but, still, a rule's a rule, I warned them not ten minutes before, and he knew what he was doing. Maybe I'm evil, but I'm fair and balanced in my dispensation of punishment. They are punished the same amount of time for the same action. Not my fault P-- already had fifteen more minutes of practice than his brother.

Vote For My Dad

I just found my dad's birthday present, which I shall ship to him as soon as I get his new address in San Jose.

Birthday

What does Halifax want for his birthday? Does SheepBoy have a DVD player? What the heck should I get my dad for his birthday now that he'll be living in California and I have to ship whatever I give him? While I've planned what I'll get my two younger nephews for Christmas (as many Susan Cooper hardcovers as possible, including the newly reprinted The Dark Is Rising sequence), what should I get J-- for his birthday in December? What should I get my bestest buddy C-- for his birthday in November? Will I be able to find the rest of the Muppets finger puppets from Starbucks for my brother and fellow Muppet fan, D--? It's still August, but these fall birthdays are weighing upon my mind. Come October I shall be fussing over Christmas and winter birthdays. With what money will I make these purchases? It does not matter. I must get these presents. Why? Because. Because they are friends and family. That's just the way I work. I will be very bothered if I cannot find anything, especially since I missed a couple of these birthdays last year. (Bad Kitty! Bad! guilt guilt guilt) I wish everyone had Amazon.com wishlists. Or just created wishlists on some other easily-accessible website. Thank goodness I already took care of S--'s birthday present. Oh, wait! my sister J--'s birthday! Augh! What the heck should I send her? I have to send her something. She got me that lovely teapot with the Japanese cat design for my birthday.

I wonder if Pirates of the Caribbean will be availble on DVD by November. That would take care of some of this. Hm. I can get Winged Migration for a couple of people for Christmas. Maybe.

Ugh. Present-buying is such a pain when you're unemployed.

Lil' Trooper Went Marching

Won't be posting much this week, as I'm in a suburb of Philadelphia and far too busy hanging with my nephews. (Any of you heard of Crazy Bones? I guess they're better than Yu-Gi-Oh cards, but they're still weird.) Anyway, I will be here until at least next Sunday. This means little to nothing to most of you, Dear Readers, but it does help ET avoid spending money at Flights Of Fantasy this Saturday. If she doesn't have to swing by my neighborhood, she won't be tempted to go to the nearby SF/F bookstore and spend money she already spent at IKEA. I'm such a good friend!

side note
I really wish I'd brought my The Vision of Escaflowne box set with me, as I'm going through minor anime withdrawl symptoms. I'd forgotten how much I liked this series. So glad I bought it with my nonexistant funds!

Strange Place

(Please note that since certain complaints were made about my not posting enough, I've posted a buttload (and most of the posts are sh!t). If I happen to take a break after this, well, darn it, I think that's fine.)

That is where my head is and has been since late last night/early this morning. While doing "emergency" laundry in the wee hours, I decided to keep myself up by first watching a few episodes of The Vision of Escaflowne (I'd forgotten how much I love the opening credits song--must! have! soundtrack!), then by reading several chapters of Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson, which I'd found in one of the many boxes my sister left in my parents' basement when she moved to France.

Allen is still gorgeous anime guy (and liking Van is still nigh unto pedophilia, friend). The music is still great, the animation pretty, the mecha with cloaks and big swords nifty as hell. And I desperately need to see the film version of Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas as Johnny Depp must be perfectly cast and the wasted and tripping Hunter S. Thompson. I am very much enjoying the book in spite of the heavy drug use, as the two main characters' response heavy drug use is highly entertaining.

Bloody sponge floors. The smell of ether. Land dragons hobbling rapidly on large forelegs, dragging tiny, useless hind legs. Paranoia. Bats! Fanalia burning. People with guns. Allen's silly "knight" outfit. Debbie Reynolds in a silver Afro. The opening song to Escaflowne. A race hidden in the desert dust. Head spins. Reality grows distant. Whoops.

A Post For August 14, 2003

Found this love letter to Ann Coulter and thought you might like to read it, Dear Reader. I trust you are well aware of the leggy, blonde, and highly vocal neocon so I need not describe her any further.

The French Knights Wave Their Privates Parts At Your Aunties

California is a fucking joke. This whole "recall" of a legitimate election is ridiculous and undemocratic. However, they are Californians, and Californians are a fucking joke, with the exception of Joss Whedon (super genius!!!), Agnieszka (who is way, way smarter than I am), my brother's best friend from high school, D-- (one of the nicest people I know and practically a little sister to me), and maybe, like, ten others.

Mock. Mock, mock, mock. The rest of the nation mocks you with our monkey pants, California, especially after seeing this list of candidates for governor of California. You are a joke. Give it up. Surrender your government to a more sensible state, like Oregon. Seriously. I mean it. You're pathetic. You're obviously incapable of taking care of yourselves, so turn it in to your more reasonable neighbors further up the Pacific Coast until you prove to the rest of us that you've matured and are capable of self-governance.

The fiftieth star can be Washington, D.C. Those poor bastards actually have "Taxation Without Representation" on their license plates. They need statehood more than you do, even with their crack-smokin', whorin' mayors.

Learning Things About Myself I'd Rather Not Know

I was a little buzzed from watching good, feisty political humor on television and decided to read some blogs before I went to sleep. Actually, before I took Halberstam's The Children to my room and sat up for another hour, reading until I decided it's completely unnatural for me to be up at that hour and I really should get to bed so I can get up before one in the afternoon for once (I won't; I hardly ever do). There are a few blogs I read of people I know but who probably don't remember me as I had difficulty getting down to the Club on Thursdays back when I was working. These people write well and I wonder how their days are going and worry about them and hope they are doing well. It still feels vaguely stalkery, as I really don't know if they know who I am, but I'm hoping the roachbird reminds them. Which she may. Who knows with the roachbird.

Where was I? Ah, yes. So, I went to Sam's blog, as she is a good writer and someone who I think remembers my real name at least, though she may still have trouble with my family name (which is why my name was never on the damned SF&F Club list so's I always had to show I.D. to the guard, which was embarrassing; but then, I'm easily embarrassed). I read about Sam's long work day and ensuing fuzzy-headed morning routing, feeling very sympathetic, until I got to the ninth paragraph of the entry after which, first taking probably less than a third of a second to flash oh my god!, I laughed out loud, loud enough that my mother said, "What? What is it? There are people sleeping! Stop laughing!" I am a big meanie, aren't I. A big, mean, unsympathetic bitch-type person.

Mean, Terrible, Horrible, No-good Sugar Kat, the Incomplete Loser and Rapidly Aging Fart. Oh, and stalker. Or at least creepy. Yeah: Mean, Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Creepy Sugar Kat, the Incomplete Loser and Rapidly Aging Fart.

sigh Still. Poor Sam. This tcm kid sure as hell cracks me up, tho'.

I Have To Start Reading The Onion On A Regular Basis Again

Republicans Introduce Economic Equality Bill For Fun Of Shooting It Down
WASHINGTON, DC—Republicans in the House of Representatives proposed H.R. 2093: the Economic Equality Initiative, with the express purpose of shooting it down "just for kicks" Tuesday. "H.R. 2093 will level the economic playing field, spreading the wealth among the rich and poor," said Majority Whip Tom DeLay (R-TX), visibly fighting back snickers. "We must pass this bill to stop the fat cats from getting fatter while the average Joe struggles to make ends meet. Also, I'm the Queen of Bavaria." Following 10 minutes of uproarious laughter, the congressmen stepped out of the chamber to smoke cigars lit with a bill that would allocate $115 million to clean up hazardous waste sites.

She Went To Quizilla Again, Bob

This will probably be the Day Of Quizzes, as I wish to escape my pathetic life and Quizilla quizzes are escapism which require little thought and have no commercial interruptions, unlike AMC's showing of The Usual Suspects, a film of which I am very fond but which does not stand up to interruptions about the latest form of dust mop.

Quiz 1: What Hindu God or Goddess are you like?



Mother Sarawati is one goddess that you're like.
Saraswati means "The essence of the self."
This Goddess gives knowledge and
the wisom and strengh to become what you want
to reach. Many students or teachers may worship
this goddess in belief to gain the power of
reaching their goal. You want to reach your
goal in life and you want the strengh to
accomplish a high level of standards to be
successful. So much like Saraswati, you may be
deeply into music or art and that means you are
most like her than the rest of the Goddesses.

Quiz 2: What movie Do you Belong in?


Say Anything...

The most inaccurate quiz I took today:

Quiz 3: Which of the X-men do you resemble most?


You are Storm of the X-men!

You are strong and sweet at the same time you have
self control and have a very nurturing nature
about you. You make friends easily but keep
your enemies even closer.

The most adorable and (intentionally) funniest quiz I took today:

Quiz 4: Could you piss off Pippin?

No, and that's good. :) It's so mean to make poor Pippin upset

No, I take that back. This was the (intentionally) funniest quiz I took today, or at least the most fun:

Quiz 5: Could you piss Lord Elrond (From Lord of the Rings) off?

Congrats! You really know how to piss people off!
Tee-hee, waiting to try some of this on
unsuspecting relatives? I know I am.

You don't want to piss off Elrond, though, 'cause:

Quiz 5a: How would Lord Elrond kill you?

He's gonna smother you with your pillow while you're asleep.
Simple way of avoiding this: Don't go to sleep.

The strangest and (unintentionally) funniest quiz I took today:

Quiz 6: {For Women} Are we compatible? [Version 4.5]

Yes, we seem to very compatible. We probably have
quite a bit in common. Feel free to send me an
email at harpiesbrother@fastermail.com, even if
you aren't interested I always like to know
what results people are getting.

And the most disturbing quiz I took today, and not only because it was written by some mentally-challenged teen who only can write in "IM English":

Quiz 7: which harry potter guy would u be perfect for?

you're with harry!! he's brave and usually makes
the right choices. he'll make you feel extra
special, and he'll do anything for you. a true
leader to. but he can be a bit shy, and a bit
sensitive, but he'll give you the time of your life!

Ew! Pedophilia!

I wonder if "harpiesbrother" and Harry Potter are one and the same?

Yay! Now I Can Play Enduro!

This past Christmas, I bought my brother a Garbage Pail Kids keychain, Electric Bill, which was one of the Kids on an electric chair which lights up and buzzes when you press a certain button. Appropriate for someone working for the Texas state attorney general's office. Of late, my parents and I have been talking a great deal about the Atari game, Enduro, which was a racing game which had a very appropriate fog section which made me crash a lot. Q-Bert. Frogger. Miss Pac-Man. These were games I could hope to play well. Yeah, sure they've come out with copies of these to play on a computer, but I missed the unfortunately-named joystick which I became quite adept at handling when I was eleven years old. (There're a lot of very tasteless jokes which could be made about that. Don't.) Now, apparently, the Garbage Pail Kids and Atari are coming back to boost the sagging sales of the toy industry. Yes, I will be buying Garbage Pail Kids stickers for my nephews. I hope that they at least included Pitfall in the games package for the Atari.

How I'd Like To Waste My Time

Okay, so you all have heard about this already and have probably even participated in one, but this article is the first I'd heard of "flash mobs." I'm so unhip. I'm ossifying. I'm ancient. But, still, I want to play, too. sigh My knowing about it probably means it's now made it to the "'burbs" and is therefore "uncool" and will no longer be "done." Man, it sucks to turn thirty.

So...Tired...

I am staying up so I can get all of my nephew S--'s clothes clean so he can pack them in the morning so he's ready to fly away tomorrow afternoon. This is taking much longer than it should because S-- was at soccer camp all this past week, playing soccer in the rain, tossing his dirty soccer stuff into a plastic bag, being a twelve year old boy. His clothes had a rank funk I've never come across before in my life; a mix of pre-teen sweat and muck from muddy soccer fields and mildew from being stored, wet, in a plastic bag. A sincere and nasty funk which requires a couple of severe washings before the smell goes away. So, I am up late, Cinderelli, Cinderelli.

I was keeping myself up by reading Ha Jin's Waiting, but I got to the rape scene and the post-rape social nastiness and I found I was far too upset for this hour and could not continue to read the very good but currently disturbing book right now. How to alieviate this problem? Check out websites, naturally.

Stupidly enough, I went to RightStuf to see how many DVDs have been released of FLCL, which has won my heart--pitty-pat!--through showings on Adult Swim this past week.

There are three DVDs out, in case you were wondering, but different retailers tell me different things about boxes and which DVD the box comes with, if there's a box, that is, and if it's available, which it might not be, you know, as it might be a collector's edition, or they might not have the DVD, anyway. I even checked out DeepDiscountDVD, which, apparently, never has anything in stock, which is why their prices are so cheap. (I prefer to have retailers tell me outright if they have something before I click the "buy" button. Just seems more polite that way.) Anyway, I was stupid enough to order the somewhat more reliably guaranteed "special collector's box!" edition of the third DVD from Amazon. I refrained from buying the first and second DVDs as I was hoping DeepDiscountDVD would have them, but they didn't, so I'm at a loss, which is good, as I can't really afford to buy them, anyway.

That's not all, though, for as I was looking through RightStuf's catalogue "to see what's up," I discovered I could get Escaflowne box set for over $100 cheaper than usual through the RightStuf weekly sale. So, I bought it. With what money, you ask? Um, with the money I shall put together through the refund checks I've received over the months and SheepBoy's kind repayment of a hotel loan-thing, all of which I've yet to deposit.

I've no idea how I'll pay for the FLCL DVD.

I'm so crack-addled.

No! It's sleep deprivation! I'm tired! Soooo tiiiiirrrrrred... and my brain's been addled by the funk of my nephew's dirty soccer camp laundry. I can't help it! Mind-alterning pong and laaaate night. Yes.

Somehow I doubt this defense would work in a court of law.

Owchies!

My ears hurt! Owwwww! Swimmer's ear. Or something. Paaaaiiiiiin! Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow!

On Why I'm A Spoiled Brat

When we went to Northampton this Sunday to meet my sister J-- for lunch/dinner, my parents allowed me to get as much unagi as I wanted, in spite of everyone at the table going, "Eeew! Eel!" (Bunch of ignorant round-eyes, the lot of 'em.) Yum! So tasty! With a name like Teapot, uh, Something-or-other, the restaurant had to be good.

Then, when we stopped at Starbucks before leaving Northampton to let Mom use the facilities, I saw that Starbucks is now selling Muppets finger puppets stuck on top of candy sticks. Screw the candy sticks, I wanted the Muppets finger puppets. They even had the Swedish Chef! As I waited for Mom to finish, I collected every single character they had (Miss Piggy, Rolf the Dog, Kermit the Frog, Swedish Chef, Gonzo, Animal) and held them in my hand like a bouquet.

When she came out I said, "Mom! Mom! Look! Muppets! Muppets!" waving my finger-puppet-with-candy-in-an-uncomfortable-place bouquet before her with more enthusiasm than most folks in Northampton have seen in a long, long time.

"God, all of those?" she said.

"Pleeeeeeeeease?" bounce bounce bounce wave wave wave

"sigh All right. All right."

The guy behind the register gave us a strange look. "All of these?" he said, poking through the pile of Muppets.

"Ooh, but we have to get one for D-- [my brother and fellow Muppet Show fan; he got me one of the Muppet Show DVDs for my birthday]. We should get him Rolf. He loved Rolf." I dashed off to get him the best looking of the Rolfs on a candy stick and plopped it on the counter.

That was me being generous: allowing Mom to buy my own brother one frickin' finger puppet while I get the full half-dozen.

The whole lot cost over twenty dollars and embarrassed the hell out of my sister, which she displayed by rolling her eyes, sighing heavily and mumbling, "Oh, gawd." Mom felt the need to explain to everyone in the store that "people of my age" (she actually told them I was thirty, dammit) are huge Muppet fans.

Well, considering what Lucas did to the Star Wars franchise, the Muppets are the only thing left from my youth which has not been tainted. (I don't think I've seen the more recent films made since Jim Henson's death.) Of course I'm enthusiastically nostalgic.

Today (Monday) a package came in the mail for me. Mom had bought me the new, illustrated edition of Seabiscuit: An American Legend, which has loads of wonderful photos and makes me very happy, as I loved the book.

Tomorrow (Tuesday) we're heading into the City so's I can get me an expensive haircut. We're also going to try and trade in our rained-out tickets from the 22nd for tickets to tomorrow (Tuesday) night's Yankees-Ranger game. Hee! Happy!

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.

On Why I Have Not Posted This Summer

Well, I have, but I’ve been told it wasn't frequent enough. To be honest, not much is happening this summer. I never did manage to get a job, so there are no amusing (to the Reader, if annoying or frustrating to me) anecdotes regarding coworkers or customers. I haven’t gone anywhere, so there can be no travelogue. Nothing of interest.

Most of my time has been taken up by being my mother’s household slave. She had surgery on her foot at the end of May. It was supposed to be healed up by mid-July, but she still hobbles and the foot is still swollen, purple, and frightening to look upon. This means she can’t drive or do much of anything around the house or yard. I am the de facto maid, cleaning house and dishes and clothes. There are some possibly interesting (to the Reader) details about the clothes being washed, but it grosses me out thoroughly to think about it so I’m not going to write about it. I am the gardener, though I have an unreasonable fear of the lawn mower which probably stems from watching too many bad horror flicks as a youth, so that is left to the other ambulatory housemember, my dad. I am also completely at a loss as to what to do when gardening, so the roses aren't doing half as well as they were under my mother's care, which she tells me on frequent occasion. I am the cook, organizing the kitchen, trying to keep the shelves and fridge stocked appropriately, fighting with my father over every single purchase not specifically meant to spoil my two nephews who visited during the course of the summer (P-- for a week and S-- for three). My father would be very happy if my mother and I sustained ourselves on grass and tap water, especially since that would mean he wouldn’t have to mow the lawn, the only job he has in the house since Mom’s become an invalid, and one he does poorly and reluctantly at best.

My father is not a very nice guy, sometimes, nor does he like any sort of responsibility not associated with a regular paycheck. He’s moving to California some time this month (like he’d ever tell us when, or even how, he’s going). There is a certain relief associated with his departure, as he has become the greater of the two housemate evils, impossibly making my short-fused mother the lesser. I am considering, if I ever go on a date, fall in love, get married and have children, getting some sort of legal stop to keep my dad from having much contact with my kids. He has issues.

So does Mom, who has enjoyed very much commanding my days. I vacuum every other day. This is not enough for my mother, who demands I vacuum the entire house, including the sofas and chairs, every day. My mother, when she vacuumed, did so, at best, twice a week. The seating saw the vacuum cleaner once every couple of months, unless I took charge, which I was unlikely to do when submerged beneath the panic, self-doubt and homework of the semester. Piles of newspapers and magazines and catalogues and opened mail were scattered about the house, left there by my mother. She yells at me about the few piles left, even though I am not the one who left them there. I cannot recycle anything until given the okay by my mother, who can't be bothered to do so when asked, which means I have to fill unused corners creatively, stacking papers into aesthetically pleasing piles which are less likely to catch the eye of the visitors which never come. No one comes to the house except my sisters, and they, rarely. Dear lord, who would?

I’ve had three driving lessons which were paid for. I learned the basics of the road, generally. I still haven’t gone on a highway, and I wouldn’t trust me to, yet. Still, those three lessons are, apparently, the last of the lessons I will receive, unless my elder sister, E--, decides for another weekend spent training me to use the clutch. I suspect I will not be driving by the close of the summer, which is a problem, as Mom probably won't.

I am not a very happy person, but things could be far worse. My parents could demand I pay rent, as they did when I last resided in their house. They could demand I pay my share of the utilities, buy my groceries. I can’t, I can’t even find a job, and they’ve been relatively cool about that. I've had plenty of good books to read this summer, and Mom somewhat surprisingly hasn't begrudged me the time to sit and read them.

Mom and Dad took me to see two Yankees home game for my birthday, one on the 18th, which the Yankees won after a rain delay, and another on my birthday, the 22nd, which was cancelled due to rain. Considering they bought Tier seats for themselves, me, and my eldest sister, J--, and her son, S--, that’s a hefty investment. They took me to the Chinese place I liked so very much near where I used to live and got us all a yumdelicious dinner, almost rescuing my 30th from the nasty swamp of suckness in which it was mired from the get-go. The next day Dad made me one of my favorite meals which he used to make when I was a kid. I’d describe it, but most people think it sounds really gross and tell me so and never believe me when I tell them that, no, actually, it’s really good, and I don’t feel like going through that again. Still, most of my friends forgot it was my birthday, let alone my thirtieth, and I feel like a complete loser, living at home with my parents at this age, going to college with kids twelve years my junior, unemployed. Turns out thirty is no big thing to anyone except for the person turning thirty, which is why I didn't put up a post about it: who the hell cares?

I suppose I am a loser, but I doubt I’m a complete loser, as I never finish anything properly. Offshoot of my ingrained tendencies towards procrastination. So, this is the blog of Little Trooper Sugar Kat, Incomplete Loser and Rapidly Aging Fart.

Anyway, this is a very long, very whiny entry about pretty much nothing. If it was at all amusing, well, pretend you just read about the worst Seinfeld episode ever.

Movies What I've Seen

This list may not be complete. My memory has been severely muddled by chemicals my doctor's been giving me. Stoopid doctor. Anyway, here are the movies what I've seen this summer.

• X2: X-Men United
  Fun! Nightcrawler! Kitty! Colossus! Phoenix! Whee!
  
• The Matrix Reloaded
  Not half as fun as the original. I'm rooting for the machines to wipe out stoopid ravers of Zion in the next film. Just like Star Wars, will still go see third installment in spite of moderately high suck factor of second, though I must admit SWII reached levels of suckness Matrix II could not hope to achieve.
  
• Bend It Like Beckham
  Fun! Makes soccer interesting, which I'd previously thought impossible. Likeable characters, good performances, good script. Infinitely better than My Big Fat Whiny Greek Wedding to which, for no discernable reason, this film in compared. Also, must! Have! Soundtrack!
  
• Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
  Go see this movie! Go! Now! Get off the computer and get your butt to a movie theater! Most fun movie I've seen all summer. Huzzah for Captain Jack Sparrow, best pirate I've ever seen! (I'm actually hoping for a sequel.)
  
• Finding Nemo
  Gorgeous, hilarious. Ellen Degeneres and Pixar created bestest character in forgetful Dory. Deservedly a shoo-in for Best Animated Feature.
  
• Johnny English
  Oh, the things I'll do for my nephew. The pain! Make it stop! Make it stop!
  
• The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
  I absolutely refuse to call it LXG.
  Did not suck even half as much as I expected it to. Actually had a great deal of fun after purposely shutting off upper-level brain functions as per Summer Movie Viewing Agreement signed with motion picture studios as child. Would recommend you read the comic instead, as my nephew now desires.
  little trooper sugar kat trivia!: second movie I've seen this summer which had a character named Nemo in it.
  
• Seabiscuit
  Very sincere film, a la Ken Burns, but fictionalizing a lot of history instead of being as accurate as humanly possible. They try very hard, but miss out on serveral opportunities to make a much more enjoyable film in ignoring the extreme lengths to which Smith goes to be taciturn, the foul-mouthed humor of Pollard, and in failing to give Seabiscuit any personality, of which he had loads in the book (Go 'Biscuit!). Tobey Maguire does fine job as Pollard, in spite of looking nothing like him and not getting much help from the script. Chris Cooper again loses himself in a role, this time in trainer Tom Smith who has far too many lines, except when he should but inexplicably disappears from the story. Beautifully filmed, merely adequately scripted (shame, since there were many ready-made lines in the book). I would recommend you read the book instead, especially since they did not put in 1) the Tijuana prostitute who can smoke cigarattes with her cunt, 2) the "mighty shit Godzilla," and 3) the scripted radio interview which Pollard fouled up. At the very least, read the book before you see the movie so you have a better idea of what's going on.

Movies I Still Have Yet To See include Spellbound (2002), Capturing The Friedmans, Whale Rider (another movie out of New Zealand!), and Winged Migration. I think that's pretty much it. Please bear in mind I live in the middle of nowhere, so the nifty foreign and independent films you guys get in the Big City, like, never get up here. sigh

Movies I'll Probably See On Cable include Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life (the first sucked and this probably sucks too, but, hey, I said cable, not rental), Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle (the first one was silly fun, and I kind of wanted to see this one, but not enough to pay for it myself), and 28 Days Later, which looked really good. May have to rent the latter two as only have HBO and Showtime out of the many pay channels.

Movies I Think I'll Rent will be The Eye, which looked (ack! pun!) creepy and fun, A Mighty Wind, which I never got to see in the theater, darn it, and Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over, but only after seeing Spy Kids 2 (I liked the first one) and only if I get to watch it with 3-D glasses. 3-D glasses! Cheesy fun! Whee!

Booooooomeeeeer!

This story is true, and I know it's true because it was e-mailed to me by MLB.com:

Why Doesn't David Wells Own A Dog?

During a recent visit to a chic Manhattan restaurant, David Wells ordered a dessert which came in an oversized fortune cookie. When he opened it up and found his fortune, Wells discovered a special message delivered by a friend of his -- the head chef.

"The only reason David Wells does not have a dog is because he won't walk him."

Wells got quite a chuckle out of his friend's joke, though opposing teams aren't finding Wells' remarkable control so funny. At 12-3, the 40-year-old Wells is leading the Yankees' pitching staff in victories, having one of the finest seasons in his 17-year career.

The article goes on to say how "Wells has walked just six batters in 134 innings this season, an eye-popping ratio of .4 per nine innings." As my nephew S-- would say, Damn, man!

Why We Read Savage Love

Every once in a while, I click over to the a.v. club section of The Onion. First pieces read, natch, are the comics, because comics are fun!. Next, though, is always Dan Savage's love/sex advice column, "Savage Love." This week he's featuring DTMFA Q&As like this one:

For the last three and a half years, I have been in a semi-relationship with someone I met when he just got out of rehab. I stayed while he relapsed, went to prison, and went back through rehab. He's relapsed again. When I try to leave, he tells me he needs me for stability, or else he'll end up dead. I am emotionally and financially drained. Am I addicted to him, or am I just completely stupid?
Addicted To Love

You're not completely stupid, ATL, because you had the sense to ask someone to tell you to DUMP THE MOTHERFUCKER ALREADY! (DTMFA!) Trust me, the asshole won't end up dead. Like all user addict asshole bastards, your dumped motherfucker will quickly find some other fool to use and abuse. DTMFA!

Go read!

Why You Should Read Seabiscuit

It is very well written and the characters, I mean, people involved are fascinating, but mostly, you should read it because there is "a mighty shit Godzilla" in Chapter 6 and it is both marvelously destructive and horribly funny.

Stoopid Blogger

They've lost posts of mine. A whole bunch from December through, I dunno, May. Stoopid Blogger. And there are all sorts of bugs in the new version of the software which they won't permit me to complain about because I'm unemployed and cannot afford to pay them for the fancy version of Blogger and therefore do not matter. Poo-heads.

Me In A Bathing Suit

Granted, it was a one-piece, but I was wearing it, even though I refuse to wear shorts in public. Why? Because today was a perfect, perfect day and the pool water was clear and splashy. I had to. I was compelled. My nephew was splashing me, so I was going to get soaked, anyway. Splish, splash. We played basketball and frisbee and dove for targets and had splash matches. Pools rock. Except for the chlorine. Bleh. My eyes are ouchie. Burns! It burns! Auuuuugh! But it is loads of fun to play in a pool on a perfect July day. For once I don't mind not having a job this summer.

Withdrawal Pangs

Okay, so I'm sure most of my readers are sick and tired of the fuss and holler about the latest Harry Potter book. Well, phooey on the naysayers and warttongues and pooheads who stomp upon the fun that is J.K. Rowling's wizardly world. I've never looked forward to a book (or film) release like I looked forward to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. No, it's not the greatest work of fiction ever, but it is highly enjoyable and occasionally very well done indeed. While there was much that could have been edited out in HP4, I felt this book was exactly as long as it should be. There was a reason for everything in there. Okay, no details. Maybe those who haven't read it will some day, and I don't want to spoil a thing. But I'm now suffering from severe Harry Potter withdrawal. I want more to read! I want Harry Potter 6 now. Just another hundred pages. Just a little something to tide me over until it's released. Something. Just a little fix. Just a little more Weasley twins and Tonks. Something. Please?

I can't read any other fiction right now. I keep looking at the pages hoping something about wands or owls will pop up. So, I'm reading histories, like The Teammates, about four friends from the '40's-'50's Red Sox, and The Children, about the Civil Rights movement of the late fifties and sixties, and a certain book about a horse which looked like hell but could run like a demon. You see, there's no such thing as magic in the real world, so the complete lack of thestrals doesn't bother me. Too much. Still, I want to read Harry Potter 6 now. Soon. Please?

Screw The Critics

Go see Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. It's frickin' hilarious, totally worth the money. Johnny Depp is in top form as the twisted, clever, slightly bent Captain Sparrow and Orlando Bloom proves he can be considered sexy when he's not playing an elf. The chick holds her own, showing spitfire without being a completely sexless tomboy, the evil pirates are fun and creepy, and the sailing, shooting, swordplay and silly hats are exceedingly well done. I love the running joke on the male fixation upon fanciful headgear. Huzzah to Gore Verbinsky for pulling off the impossible: a good, fun pirate movie. I'm actually hoping for a sequel, lord help us. Yes, I will be getting this one on DVD. If I ever get a job.

The F@&*?!

They traded away Jason Anderson, who just had his number retired by the Staten Island Yankees (he was the first fella from the SI Yanks to make it to the big league team), to the Mets for Benitez? Okay, yeah, he's muy talented, but he blows every big save handed to him. He can't handle pressure spots, and you can't tell me the pennant race this year won't put him in pressure spots on a frequent basis. Cashman couldn't do any better than this? Seriously? Benitez? The hell?!

Driving Update

I've had two lessons so far, driving through traffic and doing turns and such. Today, my parents tried to get me to drive in traffic (to Vermont) with a clutch (my dad's car). It was all bad. All bad. Bad badness abounded. And I don't mean that Michael Jackson slang "bad," but the honest-to-goodness "bad" of "not good in even the slightest." I got out of the car and walked home. That bad.

Proud Aunt

Before the menu proper on the Spirited Away DVD, there are trailers for the release of City In The Sky and Kiki's Delivery Service. My nephew, P--, who is visiting alone, was very excited to see there are other releases "like Spirited Away." I asked him what he meant, and he said, "By that man. I can't remember his name."

"Miyazaki?"

Big smile. "Yeah, that's it. I like his stuff! It's so different."

The kid is nine. The reason why we were watching Spirited Away in the first place is that he asked, first thing upon arriving at my parents' house, if we had a copy. Actually, he asked if we had My Neighbor Totoro, then asked if we could watch Spirited Away. He was also excited by the idea of eventually watching Grave of the Fireflies, though he trusted me when I said he might want to wait a little while as it's a very, very sad story.

"How sad?"

"It made me cry, P--. It's about two children living in Japan during World War II."

"What happens?"

"I can't tell you, or I'll give away the movie."

"Okay. We'll watch it later."

This is one great kid. Maybe I've no reason whatsoever to be proud, but I am. So there. He's a completely suburban kid, he almost never goes into Philadelphia, let alone New York City. Yet, he's a Miyazaki/Ghibli fan and is happy when he sees another film by Ghibli/Miyazaki is available.

Now if only he could read the faster subtitles (remember, American suburban!) so we could watch them in Japanese. All right. I'll wait another couple of years.

Alert to the Driving Public

I drove to Troy today. Then I drove through and about Troy. Then I drove back from Troy to my house. Yeah, sure, there was a young woman manning the back up brake in shotgun, but I did the driving.

I will be doing this again on Thursday and again the week after the Fourth of July. Not necessarily to Troy, but around the area of Albany, definitely.

Please note I neither killed or maimed anyone nor caused any property damage. This time.

For Your Edification

You all probably already know this, but I thought I'd paste this here, anyway, as I found it interesting. ("Neat," actually.)

deasil \DEE-zil\ adverb : clockwise

It's an old custom that you can bring someone good fortune by walking around them clockwise three times while carrying a torch or candle. In Scottish Gaelic, the word "deiseil" is used for the direction one walks in such a luck-bringing ritual. English speakers modified the spelling to "deasil," and have used the word as both the name of the clockwise charm and the direction one walks when working it.

What, No Post?

Yeah, I know. I'm supposed to be a big Yankees fan and I didn't post anything about Rocket's 4,000th strike out (Renteria) or 300th win. I really don't know what I could say that would be better-written than what they had in the Daily News, so I didn't post anything. For once. I watched it on television and loved, loved, loved it. I loved Andy's win on Saturday almost as much, as it was the break in his losing streak and a nice comeback from his horrendous outing last time. I loved Moose's win 'cause, for all of Rocket's achievements, Moose is the pitcher I admire most on the starting staff and it's good to see him work the way he's supposed to (and he was never a Red Sock). (Boomer rocks the house with his bad, fat self. Weaver needs to be traded away, away, away.) The sweep, the first since Minnesota on April 21, was a wonderful thing.

However, I do want to point out one thing. The reason why Friday (and the rest of the weekend) was practically sold out in the first place was Tino Martinez. Perhaps a little Joe Girardi, the well-respected and loved catcher who trained Jorge on the job, but mostly it's #24. No, wait. 21 now. In the wrong uniform.

Tino was loved by a lot of fans, and as soon as the schedule came out with the visiting Cardinals, tickets went. When I tried to get tickets (using my mom's credit card), there weren't three (Mom, Dad, me) together. There weren't two (Mom, me) together. The single seats left were waaaaay the hell up in the U section in the far wings. The nosebleed seats. That was all that was left months before Roger missed his chance on Memorial Day, in Detroit, in Chicago. It was serendipity, or at least, that's what my mom says. So it was a Stadium filled with loving Tino fans who stayed in the cold rain and cheered on the Rocket. And Tino. And Girardi. You do us right and Yankees fans will remember. And give you a standing ovation, even when your home runs are runs against us.

Oh My God

I got a comment today from a (non-rude) complete stranger who claimed he had come across my blog through a Google search on my name.

Ack! thought I, Complete strangers are finding my blog so easily? How? I must check this out.

I went to visit our best 'net friend, Google, and was then very scared by the results of googling "sugar kat".

I am third on the list! Ack! Ack! Ack!

No! No attention! I don't want any attention! Ack! Ack! Ack!

ACK! I'm on the first page TWICE! AAAAAACK!

I am now considering changing the name of this blog. And my tag. (ack!)

No offense to anyone, but complete strangers make me nervous. (ack!)

sigh

Never again shall I post a post cheering on a team during the finals: Spurs Cut Down Nets to Win NBA Title. Two in a row. They lost two in a row after I posted that post. I cursed them. I jinxed them. I ruined their chances at winning the finals with my post. I am a horrible human being.

sigh

Next year. Next year, darn it. They'll pull it off next year.

Hm.... I sound like a Cubs fan. (Whoops! Mixing up my sports talk. Naughty Sugar Kat.)

The Fuck?

The following is the results posted from an AOL online poll as of 4:45P today. The respondants are AOL users. You know, people who have computers but aren't necessarily sure how to use them. Still, they make enough money to own a computer and pay for AOL's services. They own computers. They wander about the internet through the AOL safety net-access. They have relatively advanced technology in their homes, but respond thusly. I think my brain's going to explode out my ears.

Do you believe humans evolved from apes?

48%  No, God created humans separately from animals                                                             95,541
44%  Yes, the fossil evidence suggests that humans and apes share a common ancestor                            86,026
  6%  Not sure                                                    12,462
  2%  I have no opinion                                        3,004
                                                   Total votes:  197,033

What's your Cowboy Bebop theme song?

what's your cowboy bebop theme song?

Deletion of Comments

There were some comments posted in response to my post a week back by an anonymous individual (whose tag I will not name) in which the anonymous individual proceeded to make a general point that there is no good reason for me to have the post in my blog as petitions are ignored by those in government and do absolutely no good, especially when late. All right, I'll take his/her rudely stated word for it and keep my political responses to letters/e-mail to my congressmen/women.

This complete stranger also felt very strongly that undergrads are useless, spaced-out, shallow individuals. This I'm willing to concede, especially since I'm not your average undergrad and many of the undergrads I've met at my school are drunken, drugged-out, apolitical twits. However, the statements made to this effect by the complete stranger did imply certain assumptions about myself that mark this complete stranger as someone who does not know me or my circumstances and therefore as someone who cannot judge me. Cheers, mate. Being rude about the complete stranger with whom you are sharing your precious, precious superior intelligence and education is not exactly a good way to keep their attention. Or keep your comments posted. Yes, I'm being rude in response, but it's my blog, not a public forum. I'd probably be just as rude if you spouted off in my front yard.

S/he also appeared to claim I have no right to delete comments I don't want on my blog. Lo-o-ong time ago, I posted that I would delete comments for any reason I chose. My initial reaction to the complete stranger's rudeness (her/his initial comment and even ruder reply will not be posted here) was to delete the comment. I abstained, but did make my feelings about her/his post clear. If this complete stranger had not posted an even more obnoxious reply, I would have left everything, as there were valid opposing points made by the stranger regarding the FCC action and the supposed futility of my attempt to get people to react to the FCC action at this late a date. As it stands, this stranger can go post his/her arguments as to why I'm an idiot elsewhere. This is a free country and this complete stranger is permitted to slam my political leanings/intelligence all s/he wants (within the reach of the law, which is very lenient), just not on my personal blog. (Again, "blog," not "public forum.") Many people disagree with me and I'm not the brightest bulb in the American light show, but strangers can make rude comments about both elsewhere.

This deletion of the comments by this complete stranger from my blog does not make me somehow "correct" in my political or personal leanings, as this complete stranger seemed to believe my initial response implied. That would be an absolutely ridiculous idea. This action simply shows that I think this person would be better served by posting her/his comments elsewhere and, perhaps, s/he can attempt not to be a pompous ass when dealing with complete strangers in the future.

Just a thought.

However, please let it be noted that it has been stated in the comments to my blog by someone who, apparently, believes s/he is "in the know," that no one should bother signing any petition posted by Common Cause, that no one should bother writing to his/her congressman/woman, and that there is little to no point in making any form of protest to the FCC action at this point. We all had a chance already to make our feelings clear when Rupert Murdoch was making his point with the FCC weeks ago.

I disagree, but I will post this for the edification of the non-rude strangers who read and my friends, who can be as rude as they want because they know who the fuck I am.

Cheers!

G O  N E T S !

So Fuckin' True, Man

I thought this exchange between a guy I met and a bud of his was dead on. Well, what Ryan (the guy I met once) said, at least. Read RyanBlog: fake no hitter. (This wisdom is courtesy of me haunting the blogs of others.)

...

Thank the good lord above they managed to pull a win out of their collective Yankees ass today.

However, if Joe Torre gets fired, I am going to hate, HATE, H-A-T-E Steinbrenner for the rest of my natural born life. He's pissed me off in the past and has hit lows I had no idea anyone outside of CEOs and politicians could reach, but that would be the kicker. I'd still love my Yankees, but man alive, flames and blood. Flames and blood.

Another Stupid Joke, courtesy of my elder sister

American History Lesson

The teacher asked her 5th grade class, "Who said, 'Give me liberty or give me death!' ?"
No one raised his hand except little Suzuki, who answered, "Patrick Henry, 1775."

"Very good!" she said. "Who said, 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth'?"
Again, no response, except from Suzuki who answered, "Abraham Lincoln in the Gettysburg Address, 1863."

The teacher said, "Class, you should be ashamed. Suzuki, who is new to our country, knows more about its history than you do."
She heard a loud whisper, "Screw the Japs."
"Who said that?" she demanded.
Suzuki put his hand up, "Lee Iacocca, 1982."

One student in the back blurted out, "I'm gonna puke."
Again, Suzuki answers, "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991."

Now furious, another student yells, "Oh yeah? Suck this!"
Suzuki jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!"

Now, with almost a mob hysteria, someone said, "You little shit. If you say anything else, I'll kill you!"
Suzuki frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy, 2001."

The teacher fainted. As the class gathered around the teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh, shit; we're in BIG trouble!"
Suzuki solemnly said, "Arthur Andersen to Enron, 2002."

Profanity, politics, and racism. Lovely.

Tick-Angel

This makes me so happy.

From Ain't It Cool News article on who will be writing and running the next season of Angel:

(The Great) Ben Edlund (“Sacrifice”). Edlund is a certified comedy genius, having created “The Tick” comic book, the Saturday morning cartoon based thereon, and the primetime Fox sitcom version of “The Tick” starring Patrick Warburton. He was hired last season to work on Whedon’s spaceship show “Firefly.” When that was cancelled at midseason, he joined “Angel.”

Whedon Talks Spike

Thought I'd post this, as I'm, like, you know, obsessed.

From the TV Guide Online Insider interview of Whedon (read it!):

TVGO: ... But couldn't the WB hold off on announcing [Spike would be on Angel next season]?
Whedon: There was no f---ing way. They were very excited about James. They have a shiny blond thing to show people, and they're gonna do it.

Thought You Might Enjoy This

This is an excerpt from the, ah, "reviews" section at bobanddavid.com:

THE MATRIX RELOADED – The action in this sequel will, quite simply, knock your dick in the dirt. Not only will it knock your dick in the dirt, it will pick it up, wipe it off, give it a nice meal, spoon it a while at bedtime, and then, just as it’s drifting off to dreamland, wake it up and knock it back in the dirt! (But don’t feel left out, you dick-less ladies out there, because this movie will make you grow a dick, and then proceed with all the dick-related activities mentioned above.)

He goes on to say that the non-action sucks ass

Note to the Wachowski brothers: Less yappy, more slappy…no nappy. Note to everyone else: The chatty parts are a good time to hit the crapper and empty your dick to get it ready for more dirt.

but overall, this is an increadibly positive review from the normally pissed-off Benson.

Godzilla Attacks!

Some day, I will be able to speak and read Japanese. I will be able to read the little pieces which are left untranslated in the Kare Kano and Marmelade Boy manga. I will be able to follow the action/text in the His & Her Circumstances DVDs without rewinding and playing again. I will be able to buy a DVD of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind before drag-ass Disney releases it. I will be able to translate what Hideki Matsui says during th post-game interview after he goes 4-5, with a home run and three! doubles. And I will be able to cheer him on and thank him appropriately in Japanese.

They showed his swing in slow-motion. It's such a great swing. I hope he can keep this little confidence streak going. Matsui is such a great player. He'll get the hang of our pitching, and when he does, he will blow everyone away. Maybe he won't hit fifty home runs, but packing on the doubles like that sure as hell does the job. Yay Matsui!

There's Still Time

[The following is a copy-paste from the Common Cause website.]

Dear [Reader],

Big media companies want to be able to control everything you see, hear, and read. I'm writing to ask you to join me in signing a petition to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). The FCC is considering fundamental changes to the media ownership regulations that will affect all of us.

Despite the immense impact of the proposed changes, the FCC has held only ONE formal public hearing on the issue. While the public has largely been unaware and uninvolved in the issue, the nation's largest broadcast companies - which could reap huge benefits from the elimination of these ownership rules - have spent tens of millions of dollars on lobbying and political contributions in Washington.

Join me in having your voice heard by signing this petition. You can sign up at: http://www.commoncause.org/action/petition.cfm.

[Thanks for reading this. Thanks especially if you've signed the petition. The FCC made its corporate-sponsored decision, but I'm sure Common Cause will not stop fighting on behalf of those who don't own large, media conglomerates. We can still get our Congress to stop this action by the FCC.]

Lisle

Whenever I see Holly Lisle's name, I think of a former coworker whose name is one letter different from hers. I'm still in touch with this former coworker, sorta. I'm very bad at sending keep-in-touch e-mail. I'm actually better at sending letters, as I like the time it gives me. I always feel so rushed to finish and send an e-mail. Anyway, the other Holly is way cool and somehow the idea and memory of Cool Holly kept me from reading anything by Author Holly (Lisle). However, I snuck a peak at her blog, and found this: she dreamed an entire section of a book and typed it up the next morning. That is cool. I dream lots of interesting things, but I never write them down when I get up. I try to remember them later, and I can never remember them, except that they were interesting and possibly even very cool. This is frustrating, as if I hadn't been so damned lazy, I might have had something written. But, no, I must go do other things, like fall asleep again, if need be. Paid-to-write Holly (Lisle) is not lazy but a good writer who writes when the muse hits her, even if it's early in the day. I'd be jealous, but I know it's my own damned fault for being a procrastinator and super-lazy to boot.

This Is My Sister's Fault

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her nameplate that her name is Patricia Whack. "Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday."

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay, he knows the bank manager. Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

The frog says, "Sure. I have this," and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about half an inch tall - bright pink and perfectly formed.

Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office. She finds the manager and says, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." She holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says...

"It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

Go Andy!

I'm so happy! I'm sitting here, wearing my Pettitte Yankees tee-shirt, suffering through both a sneezing fit and a tetchy computer to post about how happy I am that "Pettitte, Yanks snap losing streak" and trounced to Red Sox, 11-3. Yay! Yay! Happy dance of joy! (ah-choo!)

Lord of the Silent

I know, I know, ET. I'm just starting this book now? I've had it for ages, since before I went back to school. Well, I was busy. Also, I couldn't remember if I'd already read the hardcover from the library. I still can't remember. I'm reading it and it's slightly deja-vu-ish, entire sections seeming like I've read them before, but then I flip towards the end and it doesn't strike a bell. Was it the preview from the previous paperback? Did I read some of it in a bookstore? I can't recall. It's enjoyable nonetheless, like all Amelia Peabody books, and like all Amelia Peabody books, it's a quick read. I'll get right back to War and Peace once I'm done. (Riiiiight.)

Sweet Jesus

I was looking through Amazon.com's graphic novel collection when this popped up under the "Visit the DVD Store" window. Classify under "What the Hell?"

Grr! Arg!

It's over. It doesn't feel like it's over. It can't be over. It's over. How can it be over? What on earth will I do at 8:00 PM on Tuesday come this fall? Will DVDs suffice? Will they make up for the lack of new, even with Whedon commentary? "What's next?"

I'm going to miss Buffy. I'm going to miss Xander and Willow, the original Scoobies. I'm going to miss ex-Watcher and father figure Giles cleaning his glasses. I'm going to miss Buffy's quips and mistakes and final kicking of evil butt. I'm going to miss Dawn, who, indeed, has turned into a "junior Watcher," as she quipped during the last show. I still miss Dawn and Buffy's mother, who was one of the best-realized parents on television, a person in her own right, a single woman trying her best to be a good mom. I'm going to miss dorktastic Andrew and I'll miss sarcastic fatalistic Anya, who will never have a guest shot on Angel but earned her Scooby stripes in the end. And Spike. I've no idea how Whedon will bring him to Angel next year, but I'll be very glad when he does. Can't deprive me of all Buffyness at once, or I might suffer withdrawl symptoms.

I'm going to miss the snappy and true dialogue and the Hellmouth (Cleveland?). But mostly I'm going to miss Buffy growing up with Xander and Willow, all three of whom have changed so much during the series. They've grown up. They've destroyed Sunnydale. They created a global revolution, an entire world of Slayers. ("That was nifty.") I'll miss them, but I'm happy with the way they went out. If you love someone, set them free. I guess I can, now, after that last burst of Whedon-run fun. They can go do whatever makes them happy. They've earned it.

Goodbye, Xander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, and Buffy Summers. Have a great life.