Well, it doesn’t happen as often as I’d like but I managed to finish another book.  This one is called ‘The Big Over Easy’ by Jasper Fforde.  It was, oddly enough, about the murder of Humpty Dumpty.  Yep, that Humpty Dumpty.  You know how some writers really make you want to read more?  I remember spending tons of time reading all of the Vampire books that Anne Rice wrote and I just couldn’t read them fast enough.  I think that the Harry Potter books are the same way.  The more you read the more you want to. 

It’s a little different with Jasper Fforde, for me anyway.  When I read his books, it makes me wish I could write more.  His writing style is so smart and witty and silly and easy on the eyes.  It’s inspiring.  If you are ever in a mood for that sort of thing, I highly recommend starting with his “Thursday Next” series.  I think the first one is called ‘The Eyre Affair’.  Excellent book.  Fun.

And now, as if the last batch of Fforde books weren’t enough, I’m off to read ‘The Fourth Bear’.  I’m in my own happy little rut.  So sue me.

Every morning, while I get ready for work, I put on the local morning news.  And since I live on the outskirts of Philly, most of the local morning news is about murder and mayhem (and no, I’m not just talking about the Phillies this time).  So, I’m watching the boob tube this morning and, sure enough, they start talking about a recent murder or four (might have only been three but who’s really counting at this point?).  Then, and this is the best and the worst part all rolled up into one, they do their “man on the street” interview.  I swear to god, they must bus these people in.  First of all, if you want to be a Philly “man on the street”, I think I can help.  First of all, you should know that your chances grow in relation to the number of teeth that you have.  The fewer the teeth, the more likely the interview.  Simple.  Additionally, you stand a much better chance of getting some air time if you say “axe” instead of ask and do a lot of mumbling.  If you can make your eyes shake nervously in their sockets, you’re a shoo-in.

Today’s “man on the street” was actually a woman.  She was somewhere between 18 and 67 years old (the crack makes it so hard to tell these days) and kept putting an unlit cigarette in her mouth, then taking it out, putting it in, taking it out.  She stammered a lot, had about 7 teeth (jolly good job on that one), thought that the suspect seemed “nice” and didn’t actually know anything about anything.  Her complete lack of knowledge about the situation leads me to the obvious conclusion that she was interviewed on the basis of looks alone.  That’s profiling.  And as we all know, profiling is bad.

I think maybe it’s time to turn off the morning TV, put on a little ‘Dusty in Memphis’ and start my day off a little better.  What do you think?

Gah.  I’m feeling kind of ripped off.  See, yesterday I had the need to open up a brand new jar of peanut butter, and by “need” I mean that I was chopping up some celery and who can resist celery and peanut butter, right?  Can I have an AMEN??!  Yayeah!!  Anyhoo, I opened up the jar and instead of that old vacuum whoosh and explosion of peanut smell, I was confronted with a WAY-too-hard to remove piece of security cardboard snuggling protectively over the opening to the jar.  I struggled for a minute or two to get this barrier of perfection off the jar and, once I had succeeded, tried to take a nice big whiff but the moment had passed.  Damn.  Are you old enough to remember that peanut butter jar experience?  Man, that was a special moment.  Kind of like the special moment when you could take deep snorts of the warm and recently mimeographed paper of yore.

But with less falling down.

Ok, I know this is probably going to sound naive or insane or maybe even stupid but let me just throw this thought out there.  Instead of the delegate/super-delegate (and don’t even get me started on the Electoral College) business that we are being forced to sort of participate in, yeah, instead of all that mularky, how about this instead?  How about every single American of voting age votes for their candidate of choice and, when all the voting is done, whoever gets the most votes…

...wins.

Is that so crazy?  I mean, that’s actually how I thought it worked when I was growing up.  I didn’t realize that there were “powerful” decision makers that could vote against what the common folk decided thereby rendering their (our) votes meaningless.  I didn’t realize that there were “powerful” decision makers that could declare that millions of people’s votes don’t count because some bureaucratic morons decided to break the rules and vote too early.  I didn’t realize that you didn’t have to have more votes than the other guy to get “elected” into office.

Of the People, By the People and For the People, right?  Yeah, not as much as I once thought, I’m afraid.

Ok, it’s an oldie, but man, it does make me giggle!

I keep hearing it from my friends and family - “Why aren’t you posting?  What’s all up and shite?  What the heck am I supposed to read at lunch?” And it’s not until then that I remember that I haven’t posted in quite some time.  Wow!  Time really gets away from a guy, you know?  So anyway, since I haven’t been talking to y’all too much lately, let’s play some catch up, k?

Let’s see...there’s, ummm, ummmmm..........well.........

Ok, wait, surely I can...no, that’s not really anything.  Hmmm.....hey, remember the old, no new, no...crap, never mind. 

*blink*

Oh, I know!  How about the...maybe over by the....you know, that thing with the guy up on the place near the.....

Damn.  Have you ever experienced this?  So much happening and yet really not much to say.  Yeah, me too.  Sorry to dissapoint.  Let me mull for a while and I’ll see what I can come up with.  I’ll ponder and muse.  I’ll reflect.  And, what the hell, I’ll even contemplate a bit.  Hopefully, I’ll end up with a thought.  Surely I’ll end up with a thought.  Ok, maybe I won’t even come up with a thought.  I can be pretty thought-free at times.  It’s what makes me special. 

P.S.  Don’t you hate finding out that you wasted your time reading someone’s post about how they have nothing to say?  Man, that irks me no end!

P.P.S.  Your minute-and-a-half refund is in the mail.  Sorry for the inconvenience.

Please.  Pleasepleaseplease, someone tell me that this is a joke.

Sold!  Cornflake goes for $1,350

Whenever I hear someone speaking in any language foreign to me (which, embarrassingly enough, is every single language on Earth except English), it always sounds like they are talking at a rate of about one thousand miles a minute.  Maybe two.  I mean, SuperFast.  Evelyn Wood Speed Talkers. 

Is it just me or does it seem that way to everyone?  And do I sound that way to non-English speaking peeps?  And will I never learn to stop starting sentences with the word ‘And’?

Just too damn funny!

We love love love our breadmaker.  We have even fine tuned a recipe to be Just As We Like It™ and often enjoy it simply toasted with a little butter or perhaps with a little cheese spread upon it.  It’s great dipped in soups and chilis.  A nice piece set up next to a big plate of spaghetti is perfectly awesome.  And the breadmaker?  Well, it never fails.  Never.  Never ever.

Until now.

For the love of all that is holy, would you look at this thing??!!  I accidently left the curtains open when I took it out of the machine and I could hear neighborhood children crying and dogs wailing and grown men gnashing their teeth.  It was not pretty!  I’m not even sure what happened but I think I’m going to blame the yeast.  Or maybe the flour.  Perhaps the bran.

Actually, I’m pretty sure that it was Satan.

Or Voldemort.