It is a sad fate for a people to be defined for posterity by their enemies.
So I was just at the restaurant next door. I was just there to get chips, so I didn't pay any attention to the specials board. On my way out I noticed they're featuring something called a "Texas caviar wrap."
Why does "Texas caviar" make me think "rabbit turds?"
…can people actually use MySpace?
I use RSS to keep tabs on a few pals at MySpace (which completely blows… MySpace only syndicates something like the first three sentences of a post), so I don't need to actually login to see that someone has posted something. But then going to read the rest of that post or, God forbid, comment? Fuck. Forget about it. Not gonna happen.
Sister posted something or other over there today. I right click -> "Open link in new tab" in my feed reader and then I wait. And wait. And wait.
The fucking page never loads. Six times I've reloaded that dumbass blank output page that displays when the operation times out. So far I'm 0 for 6. Or maybe I'm .5 for 6. Once I got the background color to display. Such a lovely shade of pink.
Fuck. I've forgotten what the hell it is I was going to comment on anyway.
How the hell can people tolerate this? News types point out huge numbers like "MySpace.com has 30 million registered users" or whatever the hell the number is. So I'm guessing at any given point in time there are 29,999,500 people who can't get MySpace to do a damn thing.
And of course that's the problem. Demand versus capacity. Demand for the site is high, with a minimum of tens of thousands of users attempting simultaneous access at any given moment. Capacity is comparatively very low, as MySpace.com apparently has the ability to accommodate approximately three simultaneous users.
Explain to me again why people still want to use MySpace?
Ceiling fan-
we debate the nature
of clockwise
If the Grape Ape
was on DVD
I know who'd buy it.
For no reason at all, The Bunny just brought me a big ass bag of maple nut goodies.
She loves me. 
And she completely understands the way to a man's heart is through the goodies.
A lust for life!
A wise man,
that Iggy Pop.
If the future I should let my six year-old son know when I'm going to segue from happy stories of housecats past to the somber account of how Bud the cat got sick and wandered off to die alone.
This is of course assuming I don't want him to begin sobbing uncontrollably.
Upside down-
clouds as cattle
on a field of blue
(The Chicken is outside playing with the neighbor kids)
Chicken: Go away!
Brian (next door neighbor, 5 years old): (Unintelligible response)
Chicken: Go away!
(Brian and his sister leave)
Me: Chicken. What's going on?
Chicken: I told them to go away and they wouldn't!
Me: Well they left now. Why would you say something so mean?
Chicken: I wasn't being mean, they were!
Me: What happened?
Chicken: They were being mean to me, that's why I ran home!
Me: What were they doing?
Chicken: They were yelling at me for touching their bikes.
Me: Were you doing something with their bikes that they didn't like?
Chicken: No!
Me: Why don't you tell me what happened with that.
Chicken: Well… their bikes have these puffy things on them…
Me: The pads?
Chicken: Yeah! And those puffy things have velcro on them…
Me: Yeah?
Chicken: And I was showing them how the velcro makes you take them on and off…
Me: How the velcro lets you take them on and off.
Chicken: How the velcro lets you take them on and off, and they got mad at me for taking them off, and that's mean!
Me: Well, not really. They have every right to tell you what they don't want you to do with their things.
Chicken: But it's mean!
Me: No, it's not. If they were doing something you didn't like with one of your things, wouldn't that upset you too?
Chicken: Well, yeah, but they said I could never touch their bikes again!
Me: That is also their right.
Chicken: But you're supposed to share!
Me: You don't have to share, but it's very nice when you do.
Chicken: I share things all the time, and that's mean that they said that!
Me: You're right, you do share things all the time. Why don't you remind them of that next time?
Chicken: What?
Me: If they don't want to share something with you, maybe you should offer to share something of yours. Maybe that will help them see how it can be nice to share.
Chicken: Ok.
Me: Why don't you go back and play with them now? It's not so good to walk away angry.
Chicken: Umm… no. I don't want to play anymore.
(Brian wanders over to Chicken anyway)
Brian: Bye, Chicken! (Is it dinner time? Bath time? Brian didn't say.)
Chicken: Hey, Brian! If you share your stuff with me, I'll share my stuff with you!
Brian: Ok! We'll do that tomorrow!
Chicken: Bye, Brian!
Brian: Bye, Chicken!
Me: Goodnight, Brian.
(Brian leaves)
Me: Wasn't that nice Chicken?
Chicken: Yeah.
Me: This is better than stomping into the house all angry, isn't it?
Chicken: Yeah.
Me: Remember that, buddy. It's never really a good idea to end things on a sour note.
Chicken: Ok, Dad.
(pause)
Chicken: What's a sour note?
