Buffalo Wings and Burger Jones

A Random Shot of Wings from Wikipedia.

I am not a chicken wing eater.  In fact I am not entirely sure how to capitalize Buffalo wings regardless of whether I eat wings or not.  Until tonight I had no reason to care.   But now I do.

(I presume the capital B is correct for Buffalo wings not because of the franchise but because of the city (Buffalo, NY).  And we don’t really give a rat’s ass about the bison we call buffalo…not enough to make a proper name of buffalo which really is bison bison and I am quite certain that is the taxonomically correct designation of America’s bison and/or buffalo, all in lower case.  So let’s go with Buffalo for the city.)

Tonight I had a happy hour treat at Burger Jones, a restaurant belonging to the Parasole Group of restaurants in Minneapolis and the one earning the distinction of most half-ass restaurant name and equally lame logo.  I am starting to like the place however.  It is cozy, comfortable, and safe…unlike the women I love…so I tend to frequent the place.

Tonight I had a moment of weakness and ordered the wings.  I was hungry.  But let me tell you, this was different.

These wings had panache.  They tasted almost Szechuan.  A nice even spiciness that made me feel like I was eating more of a meal that a cheap bar appetizer.  They serve it with a blue cheese cole slaw that made me wet my feet.  It was so good.  I had two, then three, and then converted to wing lover forever.  I loved it so much, in fact, that I ordered another half dozen.  And that is where the night came undone.

Picture this:  Raiders of the Lost Ark.  Remember what happens when the Nazi officers see what is inside the Ark of the Covenant? They swoon with pleasure.  It is so beautiful.  Remember?  Then their faces melt away.

The wings at Burger Jones are exactly like this.

That first half-dozen were unbelievably good.  The idea that blue cheese and cabbage could be so good never crossed my mind.  Yours?  And that tangy Szechuan spice in the Buffalo sauce…what a perfect touch for a tacky treat?  I expected a finger bowl.  So unexpectedly good, I ordered another six.  Then what happened?

Too much.

My napkin was stained orange.  My hands were as gummy as a six-year-old’s.  And my teeth felt soft and my gut felt softer.

You just can’t eat a lot of that stuff!  It isn’t good for you.  As I sit here now I wonder where I went wrong.  How could I have given in to the vice of excess?

Here’s a tip.  Keep a notebook.  I have a small Moleskine that I carry.  In it I make notes of things I eat, carefully noting things like good ideas gone bad.  I might not take out my notebook and review everything before ordering every meal.  In fact that exactly is not what I do.

But from time to time I page through the notebook and remind myself of good ideas as well as the bad ones.  So the next time I decide to order a heaping plate of Buffalo wings, I think I’ll leave that for more hearty appetites.  After all, if you do indeed like wings, I believe you cannot go wrong at Burger Jones.  I just happen to not like Buffalo wings generally, and certainly not enough to rise up and properly appreciate what is a damn good wing.

Related articles

• 10 Great Places to Savor Buffalo Wings (abcnews.go.com)
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Eat Street Social

Last night I found myself at the new Eat Street Social on 26th and Nicollet in Minneapolis.  This is a review.  Eventually.

I went to see a friend who has picked up a night or two working at the restaurant.  She was there and appeared happy and looked great.

I also ran into several friends from another restaurant I frequent.  They also appeared happy and looked great.  I hadn’t seen them in many weeks.  A nice meeting.

The restaurant was crowded and active and I waited quite a while for a place at the bar.  And here is where I can give my first tip.  Pack a pocket full of gravel before going to the bar.  You’ll need it so you can toss a stone and get a bartender’s attention.  And even after you get a bartender’s attention, there’s no guarantee you’ll see a drink anytime soon.  Patience — or a discreetly sequestered flask — are necessary at the Eat Street Social bar.

That’s unfortunate.  The bar staff is pleasant, just not very efficient.  They seem to be busy keeping bar stuff organized and don’t always notice the guests at the bar.  The list of drinks might be overwhelming, too.  With one exception, the bartenders don’t appear very seasoned.  Nevertheless, they manage to keep everything cheerful and upbeat.

Overall the patrons were pleasant and — I might point out — very attractive.  But there was one grumpy couple that must have felt I was standing too close to them.  They turned glaring at me and the gentleman snapped at me.  I apologized and explained that I thought he might have been a client of mine once.  He thought about it for a moment then asked what I did.  I told him I was a defense attorney.  He gave that some thought, then realized he might be at the bad end of a good joke, and gruffly turned back to the bar.  For my part, I wonder who his defense attorney really is.

And across the bar I saw a couple.  Two women.  In fact there seemed to be a lot of women together at the restaurant last night.  But these two were together together.  One of them looked like a woman I dated 10 years ago and the other looked like an ex-girlfriend who, for the record, might very well be on a date with another woman.  But when I put my glasses on I saw that I was wrong on both counts.  The two were happily together without anything to do with me…like most people.

I finally got a spot at the bar and reset my patience.  I mentioned it once and feel compelled to mention it again:  The bar is staffed by friendly, but somewhat incompetent bartenders.  One gentleman with a fuzzy red goatee was competent enough, but one guy doesn’t make a busy bar work and he was busy promoting his bitters.

Now that I had a seat at the bar, perhaps I would see my fortunes change.  Sadly, I spent most of the night looking at an empty wine glass…

But there is more to a restaurant than its bar, right?

Appetizers came out quickly…almost too quickly.  I’m not sure why I tried calamari.  You cannot get good calamari in Minneapolis.  It doesn’t exist here.  I sampled a mussel or two, however, and these were quite good.  Bread was fresh and spongy and very good, too.  Excellent butter.

I was a bit disappointed in the short dinner menu.  Nothing really captured my attention.  Perhaps I just wasn’t hungry after the appetizers.  The lunch menu looked more enticing, but unavailable, so I ordered an Eat Street hamburger as a kind of compromise.

Regardless of what people will say about the Eat Street burger being the best, it is simply a solid example of an excellent bar burger.  In the end it is a burger that tries too hard to live up to its exaggerated reputation.  In place of the salad greens and preserved tomato, for example, a simple topping of lettuce and a sliced beefsteak tomato would work better.  The accompanying fries were ok, but I am not a big French fry guy and most of mine went untouched.

A dinner menu with another sandwich or two might not be a bad fit for this place.  It does have that bar I keep mentioning plopped in the middle of everything.  A little more to choose from for the single casual diner would be a welcomed addition.

I have to say though, as a single diner I felt comfortable.  I was offered a table multiple times, but that would be awkward at this place, I think.  Nothing worse than being the lone diner at a table surrounded by groups and couples.  Plus I don’t like to take a table away from a server who stands to get more from a couple or a group.  The bar is just fine, but needs a menu tweak or two.

And that bar service…

I stared at an empty wine glass for most of my dinner and finally got one after tackling a bartender just as I was finishing my burger.  Unfortunate.  I thought about a dessert to round out my dinner, but opted to enjoy the wine instead.  A steady flow of fashionable and attractive patrons satisfied my people-watching instincts, so I stayed.

All in all this place looks great.  It is busy and keeping the lights low would make it feel much more cozy and romantic, but perhaps that isn’t the atmosphere they want at Eat Street Social.  Either way, it is a very comfortable space and sized just right.  Even if the place were not full, it would not feel empty.

I regret not opting for an entrée.  The plates being served in the dining room looked outstanding and trailed delicious aromas as they were brought to the tables.  Roast chicken, pork tenderloin, and strip steak.  It all looked perfect to me!  So I’ll need to go back and give this place a proper once over.  I will be back to see my friend and bring friends.  And maybe bring along that flask, too.

Testing Urban Spoon

Now I Am a Retail Expert: Lingerie and Department Stores

Not long ago while at the Mall of America (I have to admit I was there for this post) I decided to go to the third level of the mall to avoid the crowds only to discover that the crowds are on the third level, crowds of the worst kind.  This is where packs of menacing teenagers hang out — and mostly likely hide out, too — when they certainly should be in school somewhere.   Navigating this level isn’t unlike being tossed real time into an arcade game.  Pods of kids stroll aimlessly in the most inconsiderate maze-like configurations that require a hapless shopper (me) to pinball through the disheveled wreck.

Eventually I made my way to Nordstrom’s and ducked in at Level Three.

Almost instantly I felt uncomfortable.  To the right is a large open lingerie department.  But that isn’t what made me uncomfortable.  For the record, while I don’t have much personal use for it myself, I like lingerie.  There is something very transcendent about lingerie.  I spans both our most private and public lives…and it sells on open floors in full view for all.  Nevertheless, I felt nothing me pulling me toward this display.

Then earlier this week I stopped at Neiman Marcus in downtown Minneapolis.  I was hoping to find a shirt on sale.  No luck.  So up the escalator I go and follow my usual, firmly imprinted path through the store and find myself standing in front of the store’s lingerie department.

This is a bad scene.

If I had a crazy, one-time party girl aunt slipping into her senior years, this is exactly what I would think her closets would look like.  It is a gaudy display of pastels, creams, and blacks punctuated with a splatter of reds, violets, and gold.  Lime green, too.  Just racks of it.  Hanging.  Looking tired and neglected.  Just like the person you don’t want to be if you’re shopping at Neiman Marcus.

Plus the department is empty.  Neiman Marcus doesn’t even bother to staff the department.  I thought I would go in for a closer look.  Here’s what I discovered.

Department store lingerie departments are cold, lonely places.  Touching a silk chemise or a lace panty simply doesn’t seem right.  And if I am going to do it, please send someone over so I don’t mull alone, otherwise I might feel like a creep and mostly likely look like one at least.

The problem is simple.  Lingerie departments are overly exposed to shopping foot traffic.  I write from the point of view of a man and if I really wanted to shop, it would be awkward indeed.  Suppose a friend walked in the store and was seen measuring up a leopard print nightgown, what would that say?  The story tells itself; right or wrong or whatever the story, it tells itself.  Each and any scenario a friend might dream up is true in the realm of gossip.

Suppose a guy is married and bad with sizes and he’s seen looking at a size 2 for his size 12 wife.  Not good.

Maybe he has La Perla dreams and a Jockey budget.  There’s nothing wrong with that; some of us just prefer to keep that from public view.

And just how do you ask your sales person for lingerie set that is comfortable and still something he thinks is beautifully just right for his sweetheart?

See what is going on here?  Department stores need to rethink the lingerie department.  My guess is they lose a lot of business to chains with strong brand recognition AND a good online presence (i.e., Victoria’s Secret) because  who wants to wander through a haphazard display of undergarments alone and in full view of other shoppers?  If a guy buys anything in this environment, he might settle on colorful socks.

I’m sure the same is true for many women, too.  While you do see many more women than men in lingerie departments, they don’t seem to browse and pile on like they do in other departments.

So my advice…create a more inviting, comfortable, and somewhat discreet place to sell lingerie.  Turn down the lights — create a mood — and soften things a little.  Ditch the chrome plated racks — unless, perhaps, you’re selling something from Bordelle — and display your wares on themes with a more luxurious feminine touch.  Make buying something as essential as an undergarment a rewarding experience and you might sell more.

I would mix styles, brands, and price points some, too.  Maybe Jockey along side La Perla is unlikely, but mixing luxury could spur the imagination.  Or perhaps a guy shopping for cotton briefs might have a change of heart if he finds a lace and silk garter set.  Same for the girls.  If all the fun stuff is in one corner and all the practical stuff in another, the two may never meet…at least not in a department store.

Finally, helpful sales people in the lingerie department always should be present to reassure, guide, and sell the product.  Take it from me, a newly discovered retail expert, shoppers don’t like to feel clueless, they certainly don’t want to feel silly.  A lingerie department might be that one place when a gentle and available sales person waiting in the wings would be appreciated.

My rule of thumb here:  Unless you’re attending racy parties, lingerie is something more private than public.  Selling it should be just the same.

Related articles

• Love/Hate Week: Valentine’s Shopping Advice From A Lingerie Expert (thegloss.com)
• Men Buying Lingerie (chicbuying.com)
• A Classic Example Of Specialty Lingerie Touches From Yesteryear (aslipofagirl.net)
• Purple Replaces Red as Go-To Lingerie Gift Color (news.instyle.com)
• Information to Buying Sexy Lingerie as a Present (microphone-film.net)

Minnesota’s Anti-Marriage Amendment

Protesting Anti-Gay Marriage Amendment, Minnesota Capitol.

Minnesota Public Radio is re-broadcasting a debate over Minnesota’s proposed anti-gay marriage amendment.

On one side is Maggie Gallagher, president of the Institute on Marriage and Public Policy and also co-founder of the National Organization for Marriage.

Presenting the opposing view and arguing in favor of civil rights is Dale Carpenter, professor of civil rights and civil liberty law at the University of Minnesota.

Maggie Gallagher’s argument seems to be based on the premise that marriage between men and women are the only relationships that will create children.  She also seems to think, contrary to the evidence, that marriage will keep a man and a woman together so they will raise the children the create.

Starting with the argument that “traditional” marriage between and a man and woman will keep families intact, I think one has to ask how banning gay marriage will somehow reverse a trend that seems to be a problem among heterosexual couples.

This argument is plainly absurd.  The idea that banning marriage among members of one group will make marriage as an overall institution stronger defies logic.  If you want people to respect marriage, shouldn’t you support people eager to embrace the obligations and responsibilities of marriage?

What is so insecure about so-called traditional marriage that it will be threatened by other non-traditional couples making a marriage commitment?  Perhaps straight couples fear that the idea of gay marriage will catch on.  Ken will leave Barbie.  Frankly, that’s what I do think is at play here, at least in part.  What is the inherent nature of insecurity, after all?  Think about that, homophobe!

Maggie’s more ridiculous argument in favor of stripping away the natural rights of people unlike her is this idea that marriage is the way babies are made.  You know, I am just not going to talk about the obvious silliness here.  Babies are made when men and women have sex, married or otherwise.  It did not take the institution of marriage to take procreation possible.  Childbirth is a biological, not a social, phenomenon.

But if having children is a reason for defending heterosexual marriage, how far do we want to take the logic of this argument?  Let’s say a couple chooses not to have children, are they married?  Are they REALLY married, Maggie?  Suppose they have a sexless marriage, perhaps the pro-anti-gay marriage amendment people want to regulate sexual activity to ensure that a marriage is legit.  Kinda cheapens the whole idea that sex is a beautiful natural thing, but then we’re not really dealing with people with much sense for such things.

These debates would be silly if they were not about serious issues that affect lives of people.  Not only is the marry a social issue, in our society it includes a great deal of legal issues as well.  The state has no place in assigning different access to rights.  In fact it is the state’s role to do just the opposite.  The state should defend the rights of the minority against the will of that majority.  Putting up a social, private, and legal issue to a vote runs directly against government’s proper role which is to ensure equal access to rights for all.

Finally, conservatives often promote the slippery slope argument.  Where will it end, they ask?  People will marry multiple partners and animals…cats and dogs might marry each other (I don’t know).  Well, first off, people promoting gay marriage are not promoting these other “monstrosities” so why get worked up?

For my part I want to marry my truck.  Why not?  I spend a lot of time with my truck and it treats me well.  Today I bought it a quart of oil (it needs it) and maybe tomorrow I will invest in a bath for my truck.  And I think my truck loves me.  Every morning, without complaint, it starts right up.  If that isn’t love, tell me what is.

Related articles

• MN Anti-Gay Marriage Amendment Supporter Has Hurricane-Force Aversion to Homosexuality: VIDEO (towleroad.com)
• Maggie Gallagher Vs. America’s Best Christian: VIDEO (towleroad.com)
• Gay Marriage Bill Passes New Jersey Senate (newyork.cbslocal.com)

Sexploitation Cinema

Wasn’t I just writing about wasting time, squandering opportunity, and things like that?  Well, here we go again.

I just finished watching Cashback (2006) which features a rather beautiful Emilia Fox opposite a cast of oddities in a story line that made me feel just a little…queasy.  Maybe it is the sickly sweet romantic element.  Or maybe it is the film’s gratuitous play with young naked women posed hither and yon.

Don’t misunderstand me, I am not bashful about nudity, especially young naked women, but the film’s protagonist, a struggling young artist, stops time so he can disrobe women and study their beauty.  Kind of creepy, isn’t it?

Voyeurs will love the film, however.  It delivers plenty of graphic nudity packaged in a mainstream film.  Watching Cashback gives you the kind of cover Playboy magazine does; you can always talk about the fun romantic narrative and skip right over the nudity.  “Naked girls?  Oh, that…yes, well, I really thought the casting of Frank Hesketh as Young Ben was powerfully convincing…”

Cashback confused me at times.  Left me with an uncertain feeling.

So, not wanting to forget what real sexploitation cinema is all about, I thought I would balance the polished exploitation of Cashback with something a bit more raw, something a bit more desperate.

Island of Despair (1969) seemed like the answer.  But hold on…right out the chute I am confused.  (What’s with these films?)  The film seems to be titled 99 Women, not Island of Despair as advertised, but I’m sure I’ll get over it.  “Behind bars:  99 Women…without men!”  Who doesn’t want to see that?

Island of Despair

This film runs like a bad fraternity skit.  In fact, some of the actresses look a bit like old fraternity brothers in drag.  After all, who really thinks you can find 99 women to star in a film with a script that repeats the line “She was dead when we found her this morning in her cell.”

Anyway, who would have thought a film featuring sadistic lesbians locked together on a remote island could be so horrible?  It is horrible.

I found I was able to fast forward without missing a beat.  A film without much of a plot has that benefit.  It is simply a story of false hope and despair with unnecessary sadistic eroticism thrown in for fun.  And we all know where that goes.  No where!  Definitely worth watching.

Cashback, on the other hand, gives you reasons to watch.  It has a story.  Ultimately the film feels like a “chick flick” designed to appeal to the boys, literally the boys.  The humor is often immature and the nudity overly abundant.  And it has that uncomfortable element of voyeurism.

Emilia Fox

Nonetheless, Cashback has a story.  It is a simple story and at times silly, and I believe it does exploit nudity as a theme, but compared to sexploitation options out there, Cashback feels like a well-mannered neighbor you enjoy having over for dinner.

If you’re looking for a sweetly romantic film that has some fun moments and a bit of flesh, choose Cashback.

Now I need to go see how Island of Despair ends.  On the edge of my seat…

Related articles

• Lorna Maitland – Sexploitation Star (retrorambling.wordpress.com)

The Demon of Regret

Saturday.  I have wasted an awful lot of time and recently that trend seems to be on a crescendo pace.  There isn’t a lot to show for it.  Trusting my gut hasn’t panned out all that well.

However, if you want good advice, I have it.  After all, what do they say about the cobbler’s kids?  They don’t have any shoes, right?  But the cobbler is still a cobbler.  Or is it something they say about the plumbing leaks at the plumber’s house?  Either or.

So I am going to “either or” my way to something.  I feel like a quiet place with beer, a cozy place where I can collect my thoughts and read the paper.  I might come up with a way to shrug off a demon or two.  No regret there.

Any suggestions?

Asset Tests, Food Stamps, and Something to Think About

A few pages into my copy of today’s Minneapolis Star Tribune I found a short news story about states setting limits on the amount of assets citizens can own before qualifying for food stamp assistance.  This news should set off alarms and it if it doesn’t, let me share what I think are reasons to be concerned.

The article points out that some states are attempting “to redefine who’s truly needy” because state budgets are low.  A solution that forces families with essentially no savings and income below the poverty level to strip down what assets they do own in order to qualify for assistance.  In the example given in the story, a family in this situation did not qualify because they own a 2010 Buick Enclave with 300,000 miles on it.

Michigan Governor Rick Snyder — a Republican, of course — explains that his state has “to work through tough things.”  Of course that is true.  So why not ask the neediest to give a disproportionate share of those tough things?

These are states refusing to address the real fiscal issue — an underfunded government — by rejecting any idea of appropriate tax policy or tax parity.  These are also states that offer tax incentives and subsidies to profitable businesses and investors under the failed promise that it will benefit the poor doing so.  (Trickle-down, supply side economic policy has left us broke and divided.)  Largely directed by misguided conservative myths of economic opportunity and independence, states favor the advantages of wealth at the expense of added burden placed upon the poor.

Giving business a subsidy or tax breaks to individual “investors” is no less a financial burden on the state than giving the poorest support for food, shelter, and well-being.  In fact if the poorest are left to suffer, the costs to society will be much greater than if the wealthiest are denied a small fraction of their good fortune.

But put economic good sense aside for a moment.  Who is so damn petty that they think forcing a family to give up basic assets like a car before qualifying for food assistance is ethical public policy?  We’ll gladly help build a factory, provide low interest loans, or — in my state — subsidize a billion dollar sports stadium for billionaires, but we will force a family do divest in basic assets to qualify for assistance with basic needs?   Does that make sense?

And people wonder why this country is such a mess…

I am so mad I could spit.

Related articles

• Mich., Pa. put limits on families seeking food aid (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• Asset Test Guidelines Set To Qualify For Food Stamps In Pennsylvania (philadelphia.cbslocal.com)

A Sad Photograph from Years Ago

Italian Soldiers Killed Near Cividale, Italy, 1917.

Nothing here really but a quick post about a photograph that really has overwhelmed me.  It is a photograph of Italian soldiers killed during World War I.  It isn’t a particularly impressive photo, if you’re looking for qualities of composition objectively; but the in a subjective manner, the photo is tragic.

What strikes me most is how plainly the photograph captures life interrupted and ended.  Unfortunately we are all too familiar with photos of dead soldiers, but in this picture we see strewn in the mud along side lifeless bodies simple things like a note paper, blankets, and a guitar.

It is the guitar that gets me.  In fact, to my eye, it is the most prominent feature in the photograph.  You can’t miss it.  And that guitar creates a narrative for the picture that I find pitifully sad.

Imagine this group of young men camped in the hills near Cividale, Italy, reading and writing letters, huddled in their blankets, as one of their group played the guitar.  There’s a distinct innocence defined by that guitar.  It connotes a sort of youthful naiveté that troubles me.  This war — the First World War — was embraced with a great deal of naiveté, but the most innocent — the most understandably innocent — suffered the most.

We still make that mistake today, don’t we?  It seems to me that a lot of the world’s troubles and conflicts are efforts to sort out the problems and ambitions of old men and women.

Hold on…What the hell is this?

I gagged on my granola this morning when I turned to page C7 of today’s New York TimesArts section and saw this:  A photo of the band

Survivor circa 1979

Survivor taken sometime around those transitional fashion years of the late 1970s.

Transitions can be many things and sometimes they appear silly.

Silliness, of course,  is more than a fashion issue although it is hard to look at this picture and see anything other than fashion issues.

Look at this picture.  Only glance at it.  You get it.  But let’s flesh out what this might mean a bit beyond its strange fashion sense.

America was on the eve of the so-called Conservative Revolution of the 1980s, and that kind of silly isn’t the fun stuff kids enjoy.  Change circa 1980 was bad, a bad turn that haunts us yet today.  Bringing in conservatives, silliness, and a sort of cultural semiotics is how we’ll unpack it all.

The edgy intent of rock band publicity photos sometimes gets lost in kitsch, and here is your proof.  How is one supposed to feel the power of Dave Bickler‘s menacing stare when you must first get beyond that jamble of slouching reds, blacks, and turquoise.

I can understand Bickler’s leather pants — this is an essential rock band accessory, as is some hair — but running shorts?  Kind of makes you want to cover your eyes and say “tee-hee”.  But it doesn’t end there, does it, and sadly the best-dressed member of the band, Frankie Sullivan, is stuck in the back, apparently unconcerned that his good sense pulls no weight.

You might argue that poster art metaphorically reflects the mood an era, which is where I might be at the moment.  In the late 1970s, change was at hand.  And you can see it in this poster if you know were to look.

Nothing Silly Here. Debbie Harry.

Consider that perhaps the real “iconic” figure in this poster is Frankie Sullivan, with his apparent ambivalence, conceding the stage to more confusing looks.  Perhaps you can see the changes that were stirring socially and politically in the conflicting fashions of the era.  It might explain why emerging college prep and continental styles pushed up against post-punk/proto-grunge and the rise of Casual Friday ambivalence.

Or should I ask a good friend of mine if Survivor’s “style” is intended to be ironic, as certainly the GOP embracing the color red as a fashion standard is clearly ironic.  (They are being ironic, right?)

And here is that ah-hah moment…this is why I care about today’s story about bands, their music, and politicians.

Today’s NY Times story G.O.P. Candidates Are Told, Don’t Use the Verses, It’s Not Your Song dances around the obvious point.  Let me spell it out.

Talented Musicians are Artists.

Artists tend to be Intelligent Beings.

Intelligent Beings  — at least enlightened ones — do not support regressive, unjust, and dangerous ideas.

Republicans represent regressive, unjust, and dangerous ideas.

Therefore Talented Musicians tend not to support Republicans.

Commies!

Someone can correct my syllogism, but I think on the whole you get my point and my reasoning is sound.  Ed Rollins can whine about equal time and parity, but why not ask for a little equal time and parity from Republicans when it comes to common sense and intelligence?  Perhaps we could get a Republican to vote for health care security, for example, or support tax policy appropriate to fund our government.  Not likely to happen.  So why would a Republican expect a politically aware band to support politically backward brand of politics?

Related articles

• Newt Gingrich Sued For Using Survivor’s ‘Eye of the Tiger’ at Rallies (rollingstone.com)
• G.O.P. Candidates Are Told, Don’t Use the Verses, It’s Not Your Song (nytimes.com)
• Newt Gingrich vs. Survivor (littlegreenfootballs.com)

Thank You Twitter for Perez Hilton

One of them is Perez Hilton, or so I am told.

Thank god we have Twitter.  Last night I saw the hashtag #RIPPerezHilton trending in Minneapolis and I nonchalantly announced to a friend that Perez Hilton had apparently passed on…

“What?!”

Well, I had no idea.  First off I’m not very bright and I tend to believe anything I see on Twitter so I presumed some guy dear to people in Minneapolis had died.  Odd name though…Perez Hilton?…couldn’t even be certain he was a he and not a she.  Who knew?  I had no idea.

Well now I do!  And isn’t that worth something?  His website is a bit too gauzy and gaudy for me…a bit too much pink, I think…but I might start following the guy on Twitter, especially since I am a big fan of dead celebrities.  (Not really, but Perez isn’t dead and I haven’t looked into whether or not indeed he is a celebrity anyway.)

So to all of that I say Thank you…I say Thank you Twitter because now I might discover an undead guy and learn something about not being flippantly gullible.  All of this might even inspire me to do something.  Anything.  Anything at all.  (I am in a slump.)

“O Sing, Twitter, of Perez, son of the Hashtag, that brought meaningless confusion to this slumping tweeter…”

Or something like that.  Until then I am going to read about life before electricity while you scroll down through this blog and find something interesting to share with all your friends and family.

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