Unleash the Capslock of Great Rage

"FORCED TO REEXAMINE FREEDOM OF SPEECH TO MEET THE THREAT OF TERRORISM"?!?!?!

IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE RIGHTS THE GODDAMN RIGHTS WE'VE FOUGHT WARS OVER, YOU CAN GET YOUR SANCTIMONIOUS ASS THE HELL OUT OF THE COUNTRY. You don't get to endorse the blowing up of other people's homes in order to "spread democracy" only to dismantle our own version of democracy piece by piece. You are a terrorist. You use our fear to further your agenda. You blackmail us out of our rights, in exchange for our "safety."

And if we let you do it? We fucking deserve it.

(I heard somewhere that this fucker is thinking of running in 2008. Can anyone confirm or deny? Also, link via Making Light)

WTF, Heroes?

Are you really gonna kill Memory Girl twice? Cause, damn. Refridgerators were too expensive?

Three Days Into It

OK, it's three days into the X-mas season, and I've had it. I'm sick of the wall to wall carols on the oldies station, I'm sick of the "christmas spirit" that has sccer moms elbowing each other in the toy department, and I'm sick of the adverts that all want to tell me how best to monetarily prove to those I love that my love it real and backed up with trinkets.

If you want to celebrate Christmas (or any other seasonal festival, religious or otherwise) by buying gifts, go right ahead. If you want to include me in your celebratory gift-giving, consider donating here. I like to buy gifts for people when I find them, or when I'm thinking of someone specifically, or when I'm feeling particularly goofy. When I feel obligated to buy things because of a holiday I don't celebrate, I get cranky(ier?). Consumer culture makes me want to scream anyway, but couple it with mass-market emotional blackmail and I get a little psychotic.

Is it next year yet?

Spinster

For those of you who are of a type to care about such things, I've just had my first merino spinning experience (OK, there may have been some merino/tussah drop-spindling in my past, but this is all merino, spun on my shiny new wheel). I tell you, it's like spinning an abnormally docile cat. I kept wanting to mutter "whozzafuzzyicklefuzzball?" at it. I've now got a crap-ton of fingering weight singles soaking in their bath, soon to be hung up to set the twist. And then they will dye.

The puns are thick on the ground when spinning is in session. Be glad I don't blog about it more often.

Happy Turkey (Feet)

It's been just mom and I today, which is how I like my Turkey Day best. I fell asleep at ten o'clock last night, which means I got up at seven thirty when mom was starting the bird. The first hour and a half of turkey cooking smells absolutely foul (fowl?), especially when you smell cooking meat as seldom as I do. I was glad to be a vegetarian until about nine, when the smell was suddenly heavenly.

This is why I end up having a little bit of turkey on Thanksgiving every year. Also why I feel sick every year, because my body has no clue what to do with meat anymore. Thankfully (ha!) we ate early, so I was find by the time we went out.

And where did we go? To see Happy Feet, of course, because the mom hadn't seen it yet. Have I mentioned how much I love this movie? This time the water animation really stuck out, especially the waves on the open water. I can't wait for the DVD, and I'll cry if they don't have the obligatory "making of" extra included. I want to see Savion Glover choreographing Mumble.

OK, back to CSI, which is not living up to it's comic book incarnation. I'm reading "Dying in the Gutters," which is a great big dorky lark. If you've ever had it in for Joe Quesada, consider it guilt-free schadenfreude. If you don't know who that is, this is not the dorkery you are looking for.

Dancing About Architecture (Talking About Music)

I've been trying to make a music post for a couple of weeks now, but I've been stymied by browser crashes and recalcitrant blogging tools. So! Let's give this a shot!

Some artists I've heard and want to hear more of(some pages have embedded sound):

1. Cat Power: She covered Leonard Cohen's "I Found A Reason" on the V for Vendetta soundtrack, has an edge to her voice that hits my "goosebumps" button in the most wonderful way.

2. Katie Melua: Her "Learning the Blues" is one of the lonliest, sexiest songs ever. She's a good dose of blues mixed with a little bit of jazz and another voice that makes me shiver.

3. Keb' Mo': I can't lie, I've been feeling the blues, and this my friends is how it's done.

4. Madeleine Peyroux: That's some sweet vocal jazz. Makes me dream of well-dressed men, smoky clubs, and dancing close.

5. Lark Watts: This is some serious rock 'n roll, y'all. I first read about Lark Watts chez Crazy Aunt Purl, where Laurie gave us a taste of some recordings Watts made not all that many years ago. This gent gives good guitar, and is yet another fantastic vocalist.

OK, I've dorked out enough for one night. Bonus points to anyone who knows where the title of the post comes from.

Happy Feet!

Cutest. Movie. Ever.

Great movie, great dancing -- they did motion capture for the tapping, which was choreographed by Savion Glover -- and fabulous art. And! There is a Plot! It's fairly simple but very cute (that's for Serena, who wanted to know that it was more than dancing birds). Also, Hugh Jackman singing Elvis. Just sayin'. It's not like I have a Jackman problem, or anything. I can quit any time...

... except maybe I will be going to see the fountain because he plays not one but THREE characters in the movie, and I love me some many-faces-of-Hugh.

And also, I tried to post this via email earlier, so if that version ever shows up there'll be two versions here. And the smiting will commence.

Lameness

I am lame.  Also busy.  I have had web pages open for a blog post I've been meaning to make for nearly a week now, but I am almost never at my computer at home.  I have been working hard at the temp job (as opposed to the previous temp job, where I hardly worked and thus blogged continually), and playing hard and/or sleeping hard in the evenings. 

But!  Happy Feet!  Tap-dancing!  Penguins!  Hugh Jackman!  In one movie!  I think someone dialed my mind, said "excuse me, but could you please spit out three fantastic things that we can put into this movie so that it can be exponentially awesome?"  So, hopefully, I will have dancing peng-birds on Saturday night.  Yay!

Also!  I shall sign off using my new favorite motto:

Memory Girl Lives!

Sorta-Weekly Heroes Post

1. Hiro and Memory Girl are the cutest thing ever.

2. As M said, they better let Hiro succeed in saving her because neither of them deserve the Women in Refirdgerators syndrome.

3. Sure do wish they'd give up the "save the cheerleader, save the world" shit. She needs even less saving than the queen. (Your Eddie Izzard reference for the night.)

ETA: WTF, Blogger? Publishing in the middle of a draft? And what is a "500 ERROR"? And why does it have to be in the middle of my blogging?

Dear YouTube,

You find all the most cracktacular things on the intertubes.

Love and giggles,
Turtle

Scenes from Insanity

I went to a dog's birthday party tonight. No, really. My young cousins and their parents threw a 5th birthday party for the dog, and I was somehow suckered into attending.

It was awesome.

Now, I don't get on with these kids too well. They have been referred to as The Bad Children every now and then, and generally live up to the name. But tonight was worth it for one specific incident involving the youngest child, S.

S: *runs into room, is heard before he is seen* I am... PANTS MAN! *is wearing three extra pairs of jeans, one on each arm, one around his head; the effect is of a slightly tattered and/or demented cape*

Family: ...

Me: *cracks up, hugs cousin*

S's Mom: Why don't you go put your jeans away, S, and come have cupcakes.

S: But I wanna be PANTS MAN.

Me: C'mon, Pants Man, let's go resume your secret civilian identity. *I herd him into the bedroom to put away the extra jeans*

S: But why can't I wear them?

Me: Every good hero needs a secret identity. That way no one wonders why S and Pants Man are never in the same room.

S: Oh. OK. *runs off to resume secret civilian identity*


Sometimes kids are just super.

Post-Election Celebration

I don't have any warm, fuzzy feelings about the new "Democrat" majority (anti-choice Democrats?  Can't we just start a new All Your Bodies Are Belong To Us party?), but Rummy's departure fills me with that special glee that only hard-won schadenfreude can provide.

I Covet these Like a Mad Coveting Thing

The big girl equivalent of Wonder Woman Underoos.

Want.

Pollock work 'earns record price'

One of Jackson Pollock's works is now the most expensive painting ever sold. This makes me happy, as I've liked Pollock's work since a high school trip to one of the local museums (don't remember which one, or which exhibition; have I mentioned that high school was almost a decade ago?).

You can try out Pollock's signature method of driping and pouring paint onto canvas here with the added convenience of zero cleanup. Hit any key to start or clear the palette, and click the mouse button to change color. And have fun!

Well, At Least I'm Writing This

I've been in a mood - half-sick, half-PMSsy, all brooding and gloomy - all damn day, which means my NaNo word count's at zero, but is in good company, as it's right down there with my self-esteem, positive outlook, and general desire to ever leave the house again.

It'll pass in a couple of days.

My general cure has been reading fiction of the schmoopiest, most brainless variety you could possibly imagine, and listening to Tom Smith's "Rich Fantasy Lives" on freakin' repeat because, let's face it, escapism is where I truly excel. On a good day I can amuse myself just by staring into space and making shit up for an hour. On a not-so-good day, I've got fiction and I'm not afraid to read it. Sure, my moods may be making like Disneyland attractions, but give me something to read and I could just be crying (or laughing) because the prose is so awful.

On the good-news front, I start work on Monday on an assignment that'll last through March. In a couple of days, this'll make me very happy.

What American accent do you have?

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The Midland
The South
North Central
Boston
The West
What American accent do you have?

It's soda, but only because a year of living where no one knew what "pop" is trained it out of me.