I just finished reading a book last night (no, no, I’m not proud). Not sure what the name of it was – or who it was written by. It’s one of many Kindle freebies I’ve read. In fact, in the year or so I’ve had the thing, I haven’t paid for a book yet – and I’ve read some pretty good ones that I’d not have been exposed to otherwise. So I think it’s paid for itself by now. Anyhow, this book takes place in and around London, and at one point, one character is wondering what’s real and what isn’t and the other is telling him he really shouldn’t start thinking that way or he’ll go nuts, because everything’s a matter of perception (or something).

All that we see or seem.

She says. And the other character says,

Shakespeare.

To which she responds,

He knew what he was talking about.

And I thought to myself, “hey, that’s Poe, you limey bastard, not Shakespeare.”

Now, perhaps old Willie wrote something similar that I don’t know about, but I have to believe she was referring to Poe’s poem, “A Dream Within A Dream.”

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I happen to be familiar with this because I’ve always liked Poe (I have the same cheerful outlook on life that comes across in much of Poe’s works – I think he was a great source of inspiration to ‘Katrina and the Waves’), and have always felt that, if I lived in a age when I could spike my alcohol with opium, I’d have wound up like Poe. Not that I’d have created great literary works. Heavens no. But that I’d most likely have died penniless and alone.

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

I bet he was a lot of fun at parties.

So this really ruined the rest of the book for me. OK, not really. I mean, whattya want for nothing? But it did irritate me a bit.

Anyhow, I don’t know if this latest terrorist wannabe could have done a lot of damage with his model plane idea (I suppose it’s only a matter of time before somebody manages to get hold of some weapons-grade anthrax or something and flies one into a Farmer’s Market), but one thing is clear. If you’re looking for something to buy me for Christmas, look no more. I want one of these things. Get me the one with the camera, please.

I dunno about you, but for me, this has been the longest week in recent memory. Im tired, and I’m glad it’s finally over. Well, over except for getting through today. The weekend weather is supposed to suck, but I don’t care. I have beer (sadly, no opium). And one of the kids (who aren’t really kids anymore – except in comparison to old people like me) will be in town for a work-related event. Yes, she could have gotten stuck being sent some crap hole like, oh, Paris or London or Rome, but, lucky for her, she gets to come to Syracuse. Sweet deal for her, and nice for the dogs, as they like it when we have company.

Now I just need to sleepwalk through the rest of this day.

I’m not much of a baseball fan, but congratulations to the Boston Red Sox for completing yet another epic choke and missing the MLB playoffs. Coupled with the Patriots losing to Buffalo (Buffalo. Hah!) last week, my hope is that this is particularly devastating to my friends to the east of Lake Champlain. Keep electing the likes of Scott Brown, and this is the miserable existence you can expect. If you want to save yourselves, vote for Elizabeth Warren, or not only will you never win another championship, but the Yankees will win every World Series forever. And nobody wants that.

Today is National Coffee Day, so I’m going to do something a little different this morning. I’m gonna hang out, surf the Internet with one eye and watch the lo-cal news with the other eye, all while drinking as much coffee as I can manage before I have to go to work.

Oh, and I’ll bring a cup with me, too.

Apparently you can get lots of deals out there, so check your favorite coffee joint. Even Starbucks has something going on, though I’m not sure you can call that shit they sell coffee. As for me, I’ll stick to the home brew.

In fact, I think I’ll have another one right now.

Happy Birthday, Pugsley!

Be afraid, America. Be very afraid. The Killer Cantaloupes are out there – and they’re looking for you. These serial killers have left 13 (or 16 – depends on which story you look at) dead in their wake. And there’s nothing you can do to save yourself. Well, except not eat cantaloupe. But who can resist the sultry, seductive siren song of a nice firm melon? I can, actually. But few have my strength.

Now, if listeria ever shows up in beer, I’ll be truly disappointed. Even though I don’t drink as much as I used to, beer has become my reward for making it through the week. Fortunately, from my home brew research, I know that no known pathogen can live in beer.

Beer. It’s not just for breakfast anymore.

Tough economic times are proving to be profitable for American country music songwriters (according to the BBC, anyway). I think it’s time for an album from The Notting Hillbillies. Or the Muswell Hillbillies.

Great American Toby Keith says, “I don’t write for Donald Trump.”

No. He just hangs out with him.

Personally, I’ve never been much for the sappy stylings of “pop” country music. Give me the death, sorrow, and suffering of Bluegrass. When Toby Keith writes a song about drowning his sister and somebody making fiddle pegs from her long finger bones, let me know.

I saw yet another “news” story this morning about how American kids are stupid and rank far lower than other kids around the world (and it’s only gonna get worse now that Sue’s out of the business). The suggestion was to sit down and watch Sesame Street with your 2-yr old. That’s fine, I suppose, but it’s not really gonna help that much. First, ban the rash of “teevee for morons” programming that’s become all the rage these days. You know, shows like Dancing with the Washed-Up Has-Been Morons, Are You Smarter Than a Moron, Jersey Shore Morons, America’s Got Morons, Moron Survivor, and American Idiot. Oh, and Fux News.

Also, I see no reason why we’re comparing all American kids to kids in other countries. It’s clearly unfair. When it comes to science, math, etc., they should exclude kids from the stupid states (where they think “science” is just a theory that’s out there, and not something you can prove like Intelligent Design – hell, all you gotta do is look at like, clouds and flowers and shit, and you can see His Hand in everything). Let them participate in a Jesus study.

I’m sure kids from Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, etc., can out-Jesus pretty much everybody else’s kids. Just make sure it’s about the “new” Jesus who hates redistribution of wealth, wears white socks with his sandals, rewards His flock with cold hard cash and hates fags and whatnot.

Speaking of stupid, the FBI has felt it necessary to reiterate the fact that it’s a felony to try and blind pilots with a laser. Uh, duh?

…24-year-old Justin Stouder…said he had no idea that pointing the laser into the cockpit blinded everyone inside.

Um, so what exactly was the point, then? You thought maybe they’d have a cat in the cockpit that would start chasing the dot around, and then they’d all get a chuckle and some much-needed stress relief before landing the plane, and then they’d bring the flight attendants over to your house for a laser party with the Labatts Blue Girls, and tell you how really cool and funny you are? Or what?

Speaking of airplanes, the NYPD Chief of Police says they have what it takes to “bring down a plane” in an “extreme event.” Not sure when taking a plane down over Manhattan would be a good idea (you think pieces of a satellite are dangerous? Try dodging much larger and more-intact flaming chunks of an Airbus A380). Speculation is whether the NYPD has a battery of surface-to-air missiles (god help you, Sue), or just some police helicopters outfitted with 50-calibre machine guns. Personally, I think they have undercover cops on the Empire State Building observation deck armed with pen lasers.

When I think of the NYPD, I can’t help but think of plungers (well, that and being executed in your doorway for the crime of pulling a cell phone). And when I think of plungers, my thoughts tend to wander to Rick Santorum.

Speaking of which (or whom), Rick Santorum says Rick Perry is soft on marijuana because he wrote in his book that states should be able to legalize it if they want to. Really? Rick Perry wrote a book? Amazing. And as for you, other Rick, seriously? That’s all you’ve got? Soft on pot? How 1970’s of you. I forget, where did Santorum come from again, and why does anybody care that he’s pretending to run for Preznit? I’d google it but, well, I’m afraid of what the results returned will be (even worse than if the Republicans were running Diego “Dirty” Sanchez).

BTW, thanks to some very good detective work by Vernon, we’ve (OK, he’s) uncovered the name of that BBC show I mentioned the other day. It was apparently a “special” in the “Everyman” series, entitled, “Everyman: A Game of Ghosts” which aired back in 1991. Doesn’t seem to be available for viewing anywhere, so unless you happen to have it squirreled away on VHS someplace and can make me a copy (at which point I will be able to tell my wife, “see? I told you throwing out the VCRs we never use anymore was a bad idea”), I guess I’m SOL.

Guess I’ll have to read a book instead, though that’s so much more difficult than watching the teevee.

Speaking of the teevee, finally, our long national Charlie Sheen nightmare is over, as Sheen and the producers of his former show have come to a settlement of undisclosed terms over his being fired (which would explain his making nice-nice in public lately). Thank goodness, we can all get on with our lives in the post-Ashton Kutcher world. Assuming you gave a hoot.

Speaking of which, the Great Horned (aka, “hoot”) Owls out in the woods are very active this morning, calling back and forth. I often hear them shrieking for food, but this morning they’re doing their hoot thing, and they’ve been going at it for quite a while now. I haven’t managed to catch a good look at them yet. I guess I need to get some night vision glasses. We also have lots of hawks out there (especially during the summer, when various species hang out), and I’ve seen at least one eagle (not sure if it was a Golden, or a baby Bald). They’re big suckers. Hopefully the cats are keeping their eyes open (though I think they have more to fear from the coyotes than the hawks)

Ah, the beauty of nature. Makes you want to get an assault rifle and rent a helicopter and start killing shit.

Oooh. New idea for a “reality” show. Sarah Palin’s New York, where the former governor flies around in the NYPD assault chopper with “deputy” Ted Nugent, and the two blow the squirrels out of Central Park with the 50-cals.

That’d be sweet. And a ratings winner in the Bible Belt, you betcha.

So those two dudes who were, for some reason, hiking in the vicinity of Iran and accidentally (so they say) crossed the border and spent a couple of years locked up in an Iranian prison are finally out. Good for them. They say it was never their intention to cross the border. Well, OK, fair enough. Not to blame the victims or anything, but, well, I think it would be prudent to stay the hell away from that part of the world.

Speaking of staying the hell away, it looks like Diana Nyad has finally gotten the message. I never really understood this kind of thing. I mean, who cares if you can swim from Cuba to Florida with a full support team and the ability to pack it in when things go badly?

Flying solo across the Atlantic or something I can understand, ‘cuz it opened up air travel. Lindbergh may have been a schmuck, but at least he didn’t have a support team out there with him. And the movie with JImmy Stewart was good. But what would Diana be doing? Paving the way for future generations swimmers? The opening of commercial swimming routes from Cuba to Florida?

Oh well. Monday again, and that sucks. Not as bad as getting stung by a Portuguese Man-O-War, though.

Just getting around to watching Bill Maher from Friday night. I had a vague dislike for Jane Harman when she was a DINO in Congress, though I didn’t really know all that much about her. Glad to see my dislike was justified. I found myself wishing she’d just shut the fuck up. Michael Moore was on the panel next to her, and I kept hoping he’d just lean over and swallow the skank (who appears to be in training for the coveted “Nancy Reagan Shriveled Husk” award) up in one bite. Bill also had Tom Morello on. Is he any relation to Joe Morello, whose “Rudimental Jazz” was my drumming bible? Much like the Catholic Bible, it was something I never mastered and wound up giving up on – at least with Joe’s book, I could just sit there without that ridiculous kneeling-standing-sitting routine I remember from Sundays of yore. Normally, I’d have watched Bill yesterday morning but I couldn’t ‘cuz I spent most of the day cowering in a bunker in an undisclosed location, praying that the big nasty satellite didn’t hit me. Much to my chagrin, when I emerged I found out the sucker had actually come down while I was still in bed. I hope all of you are similarly unscathed. Sadly, now I’ve pretty much wasted the whole weekend. Good thing I love my job.

Thirty-six years ago today (more or less) “Money for Nothing” was the number one song. Not exactly Dire Straits’ best effort (not even anywhere near the best song on the “Brothers in Arms” album; I think I’d have to go with the title track there), IMHO, but not exactly the worst song I’ve ever heard, either. Not a song you’d have heard on Canadian radio starting back in January, because it was banned by the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council. Why? Because it uses the word “faggot” (and they aint talking about cigarettes or bundles of sticks, either), and a single listener of CHOZ in Newfoundland bitched about it.

“Money For Nothing” was immediately deemed a breach of the Human Rights Clauses of the Canadian Association of Broadcasters’ (CAB) Code of Ethics and Equitable Portrayal Code.

Never mind that the word is used satirically (basically making fun of a guy who moves refrigerators and color TVs, delivers custom kitchens and installs microwave ovens, and who – judging by the MTV video – is related to Rosie on the Jetsons or maybe the Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot dudes).

Who knew Newfoundlanders were so touchy (as an aside, this all reminds me of an episode, of ‘All in the Family’ where Archie tells Edith she can’t donate his mohair jacket because the “mo” is still perfect, and when Gloria tells him there’s no such animal as a “mo” he says “the Canadian woods are full of mos!” But I digress)?

And who knew that a single uptight Canuck could trump freedom of expression? I mean, to paraphrase The Who – “who the fucking West Virginia are you?”

“It made us look silly in the eyes of the broadcast community around the world,” writer/broadcaster Alan Cross, a 30-year veteran of the Canadian radio biz, tells Rolling Stone. “I talked to people from the U.S. and the U.K. and they were like, ‘What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you get it? It’s a joke. It’s a satire. You didn’t understand the context?'”

Speaking on behalf of the United States of America, I’d just like to say it’s nice to know we’re not always the biggest morons on the continent.

But good news, my Canadian friends and neighbors. This month, the CBSC lifted its ban of Money for Nothing.

Another GOP debate last night? Jesus H. Christ, pick one of these idiots already so we can get back to Dancing with the Stars. Better yet, put these schmucks on ‘The Biggest Loser’ and let them be judged by Simon Whatshisname and that drunk chick. Although, if one of these assholes gets elected, we’re all the biggest losers.

Speaking of losing, we’re rapidly losing the daylight in the evening, and it’s now officially Autumn, as of a little over an hour ago. As they keep saying in ‘Game of Thrones,’ “winter is coming.” If I see my shadow today, it means six months of winter. But if I don’t, it means spring will be here in a mere 180 days.

On the bright side, in case you hadn’t noticed, today is Friday. Yes, Friday! The day I’ve been looking forward to since Sunday. And there’s a “Barn Moving” sale just down the road a piece tomorrow, which I’m gonna have to check out, ‘cuz who knows what kind of neat shit they might have. Plus, I wanna find out how they’re gonna move that barn, ‘cuz it’s pretty goddamn big.

But first, there’s a little matter of getting today over with.

Speaking of West Virginia (which, by the way, is having a T-Shirt Amnesty Day), my buddy and fellow SU Alum (though he went through school via the more traditional route of going there after high school and graduating in the “normal” amount of time, so he was there about 25 years before I was) is taking some vacation time in October and wants to go to the SU-WV game. On the one hand, I try to get to at least one game a year and this could be the last time I see WV in the Dome for a while. On the other hand, it’s a Friday night game (and past my bedtime), and is kind of expensive. Not that I’m cheap, mind you, but the game’s gonna be on ESPN in HD, which means I can have a much better seat (and turn it off if things start to get bad) – at the expense of having to listen to the inane blathering of whatever ESPN announcers are working the game (typically we don’t get the “A” team, though occasionally they’ll give an SU alum or two (like Sean McDonough or Mike Tirico) the chance to go back to the old homestead. A shame they don’t give alumni a ticket deal. One more reason they’ll never get any donations out of me.

They just flashed a graphic as they went to a break on the lo-cal news that said, “Falling Satteltie.” Fortunately, it appears that the satteltie will not fall on North America, so we should be safe here. Sorry, you other folks, but you’re on your own. May want to stay in the basement tomorrow (though even that won’t help you with a direct hit).

The other big story is this “synthetic marijuana” that’s out there now being marketed as incense, but being used by industrious folks to catch a buzz. This, of course, is sparking outrage and calls to make it illegal, as it contains chemicals that may be bad for you (and it actually putting people in the hospital). If they’d just make the real shit legal, they wouldn’t have to worry about it. Plus, whattya gonna do? Make every dangerous chemical illegal because it might be used to get high? There’d be no glue, spray paint, whip cream, spot remover, pesticide – you name it.

Let’s face it, as long as life sucks and then you die, people will want to get wasted one way or another. I say, “Tax the Stoners!” But tax the rich, first.

They are also referencing a “new” study (apparently they never heard of Ben Franklin) that says people who get up early are happier, healthier, and less likely to eat shitty food. I wonder, which is cause, and which is effect? Are you better off because you get up early, or are you getting up early because you’re happy and healthy? Or is it that you just can’t sleep and/or have little critter alarm clocks to get your ass out of bed?

Speaking of sleep, REM is calling it quits. I think it’s because they’re too old to be “rapid” these days. Perhaps they’ll reform as ‘SEM’ or something.

Oh well, I guess it’s time to get ready to get ready. I need a little extra time, as I’m in the process of giving myself a haircut. This is day three of what is typically a 5-7 day process. I cut a bunch, see what sticks out funny (hair-wise) and cut some more. The hard part is trying to thin it out (especially in back) so it doesn’t look like I’m wearing a helmet, without ending up just shaving it all off (my head’s too goddamn big to not have hair on it – I’d look like a 500 watt light bulb, or Uncle Fester or something).

But it was either this or go with the ponytail, and I’m not sure how that would go over at work.

If only I could find another way to pay the bills.

John Boehener – already reeling from the increase in tanning booth fees – doesn’t wanna talk about “taxing the rich.” I assume that’s ‘cuz he’s rich. Until such time as I become rich, I’m more than happy to not only talk about taxing them, but to actually do it. Once I’m rich, I’ll be happy to pay taxes. Why? Because I’ll be able to afford to, because I’ll be fucking rich. This does not strike me as a complicated issue, but perhaps that’s because I’m just a simple man. It’s kinda like the 7-Eleven rule. “Got a million, leave a million. Need a million, take a million.”

My, my, my. People out there in the sports media world are painting Syracuse (and Pitt) as villains for jumping off the sinking ship that is the Big East. I don’t remember all this angst and anger from them when Miami, Va Tech, and Boston College jumped back last decade, so I don’t really understand all the malice. And here we find the BE had a master plan that would’ve saved the league if only SU and Pitt hadn’t left: adding Navy for football-only. Yes indeed. That move, of course, is now on hold.

Word is also in that both the ACC and SEC have rejected West Virginia. I know the ACC has some sort of minimum academic standards, but clearly the SEC doesn’t, so that one surprises me. I feel bad for WV. Their fans already suffer from inferiority complexes, and this has gotta hurt. I hate to see them stuck in what used to be the BE, which is now possibly going to merge with whatever winds up being left of the Big 12.

I hope they can work out a deal for something better, and I hope we can keep playing them – at least in football.

Oh well, early day. Time to go.

I was driving around on Sunday, heading into Pixley to do my weekly shopping, and had NPR on the radio. Studio 360 was, for some reason, doing some sort of an in-depth story on Nirvana (not the place we all hope to go to when we cross over, but the band that was a big deal to angst-filled kids back in the late 80s and early 90s – I was still more or less a kid back then, but I somehow missed the boat to Nirvana – story of my life – and am more or less totally unfamiliar with them, except to say “Danny Goldberg sucks!” Guess I was just living on the wrong coast). Some guy said something to the effect that it was very apparent in all of their lyrics that they were “so messed up inside they could explode at any moment.” And then they played a song to illustrate that fact.

The only thing that was apparent to me was that I couldn’t understand a fucking word they said. I’m not judging it good or bad (although it sounded to me like one of the white noise settings on a Sony “Dream Machine” or something). Just saying I had no clue what they were droning on about (maybe if they played it backwards?). The words were probably at that frequency that old people can’t hear. I’m sure that if I were to read the lyrics, I would think they were brilliant.

It’s similar (yet different) to Marilyn Manson. Somebody I know saw a CD of his in the back seat of a car we were riding in once, thought the lyrics were very interesting, and asked to hear it. A request she no doubt regretted rather quickly (I know I did). Not only could I not understand what the dude was saying, it was like somebody screaming at me – or more like a blender filled with rocks screaming at me. Just not my cuppa tea.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. There’s plenty of music that I like that other people think suck, and I seem to recall my mother tapping lightly on my bedroom door asking politely, “honey, would you mind turning that down just a wee bit? Or would you prefer that I shove a steak knife in your eye the next time you leave your room?”

My mom, being an Irish broad, was of course very delicate.

To be honest, there’s music I used to listen to back when I was a “yoot” that I probably wouldn’t wanna listen to now. But I think I could always understand the lyrics (maybe not; could be selective memory).

Of course, back in my day, lyrics were much more deep. I mean,

Yeah, fairies wear boots and you gotta believe me
Yeah I saw it, I saw it, I tell you no lies
Yeah Fairies wear boots and you gotta believe me
I saw it, I saw it with my own two eyes,

I mean, wow, right? Just wow.

It might also be that the reason I can’t hear shit now is due to the volume at which I used to listen to, say, Black Sabbath, Mountain, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin (sorry Jim), and Jethro Tull.

Anyhow, Day Two of the work week beckons. Yesterday was a tough one. I really didn’t feel like being there (even more than usual), and I want out, but can’t think of a way to do it. It’s like being trapped in the back seat of a car blasting Marilyn Manson. Except in the car, you can at least jump out at a red light.

I made out my school taxes last night. Enough to buy a backhoe (or to heat my house with pellets for about five years). Sorry, but I can’t help but find this very annoying. I feel like a blind hemophiliac in a porcupine petting zoo. I’m gushing money, and I can’t find my way out.

On the bright side, “DADT” has finally been officially repealed. Or ended. Or whatever it is they do to really stupid ideas that should never have seen the light of day in the first place. Not that this does anything for me, personally. I’m too old to join the military (and the thought never actually occurred to me when I was still young; I would have scurried off to Canada in a heartbeat, had they decided to draft me).

But it’s one small victory in the War on Stupid. We don’t get a lot of wins (case in point, “Dancing with the Stars” debuted last night, apparently, though with Nancy Grace and Chaz Bono, it could have been called “Dancing with the Cows.” OK, that was cruel. And wrong. I apologize – to Chaz), so we gotta take it any way we can.

Which is also something you’re now allowed to say if you’re in the military.