Keeping Up

My blog fingers have been lazy lately. I guess they have been touching other things – guitar strings, horse reigns, books, car keys and if I get lucky, myself.

Saturday night, I attended a long-awaited House Destruction Party. Every Wednesday night, my fellow Rodents and I practice our improv chops in a completely empty house that Jeff owns. There’s no running water or furniture – the perfect blank canvas to regress.



Soon, the house is coming down to make way for a income-generating condo and we celebrated by attacking the house walls with racy commentary. There was the ‘Name the New Building!’ room and the Sexual Confessions Room. HDW has some great photos here, as does Kath. Never has communication at a party been so clear:



If you didn’t get a chance to read the Wall Street Journal’s gigantic piece on the 10th Blogiversary, please do. Interesting stuff, except what is cranky stuff-ass Tom Wolfe doing in there? If you missed it, let me know and I’ll make sure you get it.

Thinking about using public transportation? Biking? Walking? This image should cinch the deal for you. And remember, there are only so many dead dinosaurs to extract from our beloved blue marble. There is a common saying in Saudi Arabia right now:

"My grandfather rode a camel, my father rode a camel, I drive a Mercedes, my son drives a Land Rover, his son will drive a Land Rover, but his son will ride a camel."

In case that doesn't cheer you up, check out this story about how American publishers are protecting our nation's children from tiny cartoon boobies and half-millimeter-long penises. When I ponder this brazen idiocy or the Bushies 'total abstinence' program or the wasteful and delusional war on drugs, well ... it makes me reach for a cold compress .... and my passport. It also makes me want to draw genitalia in crayon and fax it to the White House while smoking a giant spliff but that's just me. Is there a graph for 'Heads Up Asses Per Capita?"

It does remind me of a brief conversation I once had with a woman outside a supermarket. She had some card table set up with flyers and whatnot and approached me with the dreaded clipboard and pen. Ready to save the world, she spoke in full perk:

"Hi! How are you today? Would you like to help us fight the war on drugs?"

Me, matching her cheerleader enthusiasm beat-for-beat:

"Oh, hey! Thanks so much but I actually use drugs! Good luck with that though!"