I got an e-mail today that had the following subject line: "Hurry! Time is running out!" So I deleted it VERY QUICKLY.

I read today that two senators I usually think are fuddy-duddy putzes are taking the lead in asking some pertinent questions. According to the Washington Post, senators Byrd and Hollings are questioning the scope of President Bush's defense budget request and the open-ended nature of the "war on terrorism." 'Sabout friggin' time. I mean, I was all for the initiative in Afghanistan simply because, well, hell, we had to blow something up. A country can't just take a hit like that and not express a show of force, especially against an ideology as stupid and brutish as the one espoused by Al Queida (who is this "Al," anyways?). I had hoped that our purpose in Afghanistan hadn't really been about finding bin Laden or about waging a "war on terrorism." I had hoped that it was just about kicking somebody's ass to show people that we still can and will when we're pushed. If that was the purpose of action in Afghanistan, we have achieved it, and it is time to set up the provisional government, let those people get back to farming poppy seeds for good American heroin, and to come home. Now, however, Bush wants to escalate the "war on terrorism." In my opinion, emphasizing an offensive against terrorism is the wrong approach. Sept. 11 didn't happen because we forgot to kill enough terrorists. It happened because the protectors and generators of this nation's intelligence had become fat and happy with the end of the Cold War and because the security systems in our airlines had gone to bloody hell. Homeland Security is the name of the game, but our president wants to keep on beating his chest about the "axis of evil." History has taught us that going to war with ideas is kind of like owning a boat. Ya'll know what a boat is, don't you? It's a big hole in the water that you throw money into. I'm ready for more Democrats to step up to the plate and start asking questions. We've got a president who was barely elected acting as if he has a mandate to lead who wants to go to war with the whole damned world. We've got a war going on that doesn't seem to have an exit or an end in sight. Come on, Dems. Stand up and speak.

Can't...stop...typing...with...ellipses...

Please don't let me forget to tape "The Job" at 9:30 tonight. Thank you.

I know I'm not blogging a lot today. Stupid job really cuts into my life. Besides, I'm playing with WinAmp today. Check out the Bonk Mix. ~~~>

Fresca is "Grapefruit-Flavored Soda." There is REALLY something wrong with that.

A buddy just offered me a critique of my little Web site. Tongue-in-cheek, I hope: "Lame! Gay! Needs salt! Not enough pants!" ::sigh:: I hope.

But what if I don't WANT the cinnastix?

I laugh out loud at those Staples commercials where the company has, as a cost-cutting measure, only managed to invest in one pen. I laugh because it's not so damned far-off from some of the things that I've seen. I worked for a guy who one day became incredibly concerned that his employees were going through too many paper towels. For three days straight, this industry mover and shaker came out to the office and started interrogating our receptionist about the paper towels. "Well, do you think the cleaning staff is using them for cleaning?" "I don't know, Mr. Belding*." (frustrated pause) "I swear, I just can't figure out where all our paper towels are going to!" His eventual solution to the problem was to stop providing paper towels in the bathroom. This lasted for a few days. Hopefully, somebody eventually explained to him that, if you discourage people from washing their hands, you are actually creating a health issue in your office. I haven't reviewed the regulations, but I'm sure that OSHA would have had something to say about it. This is why I insist that capitalism is a wonderful system but has a fatal flaw. My boss was spending more time squinting at his bottom line than he was realizing how ridiculous his nickel-and-diming was. This was a cat who spent thousands and thousands of dollars every week on newsprint, and the cat was bent out of shape about paper towel use in the office. I think this is where one could appropriately use the word "Dayum." So don't go thinking that these Staples commercials are far off. They aren't. *Mr. Kirkland's name has been changed in this example to "Mr. Belding" to protect his anonymity.

Cool! Mitch Hedburg is on Comedy Central! "An escalator can never really break, it can only become stairs..."

I'm your only friend. I'm not your only friend, but I'm a little glowing friend, but really, I'm not actually your friend, but I am... Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch who watches over you...make a little birdhouse in your soul. I have a secret to tell from my electrical well. It's a simple message, and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells. So, the room must listen to me�filibuster vigilantly. My name is blue canary, one note, spelled l - i - t - e. My story's infinite! Like the Longines Symphonette, it doesn't rest! There's a picture opposite me of my primitive ancestry which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck-free. Though I respect that a lot, I'd be fired if that were my job, after killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts. Bluebird of friendliness, like guardian angels, it's always near. While you're at it, keep the nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul.

damn, I love TMBG

I see the Razzies nominees have been announced. ::sarcastic sigh:: Some of my favorite pictures have been nominated for Worst Pic. 3,000 Miles to Graceland, for instance, which is my favorite film of 2001 that I did not actually see, a movie which starred so many that I'm surprised I wasn't in it...Freddy Got Fingered, which is the film of 2001 that I most regret renting...Driven? And, finally, look!! They picked "Glitter!"

Clarendon has just become heaven, hasn't it? This brand new shopping center opened up there. Looks like Oz. I'm not sure, but I think it even has a yellow brick road. There's a Pottery Barn, there's a Zany Brains, there's a container store...it's yuppy hell, man, and I'm telling you, the setting is much too regal for it all. My night starts at the Galaxy Hut. This is the coolest little hovel ever at this point to me because it encompasses all the things about a bar that I really need. Goddam, tonight was perfect. I sat in that bar and drank and ate and read a book about markets in writing science fiction. Then I went to Oz. Because you know what anchored the Oz in Clarendon, don't you? The biggest, newest, most beautiful Barnes and Noble I've ever seen in my lifetimes. I'm trying to do market research, see. That's what aspiring writers call "wasting several hours in a Barnes and Noble." And tonight's mission is to find a copy of the following periodicals: Issac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, Omni, Analog, The Magazine of Fanasy and Science Fiction, Aboriginal SF, and Amazing Stories. All I found was Analog, the only one I've ever received a rejection from. (I shoudl clarify, it's also the only fiction submission I've ever made.) With mission accomplished, it was time for recess. Music, baby! And I poured through the CDs. And I looked here for the passion I once felt. Where is the glory? Where is the day when I first found the magick in Jimi, felt the fog and lush foliage in Led Zeppelin, or even fel the mighty hammer of Nothing's Shocking? I want the sense of discovery back, the strong but pock-marked notion that music matters, that if love never stomps me into bliss, at least music will tide me over to death, that if I don't believe in Christ, at least I have Jimmy Page to fall back on. I want war, I want rage, peace, and love, and I'm not finding it in the Barnes and Noble cutting bin. Goddammit. No impluse buy in the music section tonight (after what I've drank, I should be praising the goddess...TCB, baby). So I buy my Analog and my Orson Scott Card novel, and my gift for a loved one, and I pass on the Merrill Markoe novel and figure I might get G.D. Gearino to send me a copy of the book for Vegas, and I check out of there and I leave. And as I'm leaving, there are these outdoor speakers that I guess are meant to keep you, the exalted consumer, in a blissful happy place from shop to next impulse buy to car. And for me, it works, it ends my little panic bubble about not finding passion in the music anymore. Stevie Wonder is all you need, baby.

A letter from the Society of Professional Journalists, to moi: "Dear Mr. Binks: What is journalism to you? If it's just a job, you can probably stop reading this letter right now..." Oh. All right then.

When I was shopping for a college, my Dad tried to tell me how incredibly important it is to choose a school with a good basketball program. Of course, at 18, I knew more than he did. Why the hell should I care if my school's basketball team is any good? I'm not going to play basketball, I'm going to be a big braniac weisenheimer and pretend to be a student activist for a few years before going to work for the school newspaper. What he couldn't convince my mushy, short-sighted little brain of was that, by the time I was 33 years old, college basketball would indeed be very important to me. I love college basketball. I have witnessed what happens at a school that has a good basketball team when the team wins an important game. Every thoroughfare suddenly becomes Bourbon Street. Students start bonfires, girls waggle their boobs, people scream "tarnation" and pee in the streets...oh, gods, it's wonderful. See everything I missed out on? Where I went to school, the only thing that got students into the streets was the illegal escalation of an undeclared war. (Actually, basketball was quite instrumental in the shootings. As it turns out, when you throw some 2,000 students out of a nice, comfy bar where they're watching an NBA playoff game into an already tense situation in the street...guess what, LeRoy? You got riots!) Anyway, so now, Kent is 13-1 in conference standings, which means they're likely to take the MAC championship and go on to March Madness, which is approaching shortly...(Kent is 19-5 overall)...Kent is having a good season under new coach Stan Heath. They lost to Kentucky and Youngstown State, but by golly, they beat Ball State and Miami of Ohio (vital victories to win the MAC). So, lookie there, Dad! I DID go to a good basketball school! Just a little too early, is all.

"Happy Presidents' Day! Or as Al Gore would call it...Monday." �David Letterman A few thoughts...

• Who in his right mind would want to attend Boston Public? If I went to that high school, I'd like, leave.
• Radio Flier is not a very good movie.
• Rosie's gay? You're kidding! Holy cow, what's the world come to? (Seriously, tho...more power to ya, Rosie. I can't wait to read the book...)
• I wish spring would come.

It's one of those nights (er...early mornings) where I know I don't have to go into the office tomorrow so I can stay up as late as I want, goddamit, and so, I do. I watched "The Candidate" on AMC, damn, that's a great movie. Now I'm surfing and looking for something to watch. I saw a commercial for some kind of hair replacement shoobie. I always laugh at that. Can't help it. Dude, I'm going bald. I know it. It's a mess up there. My grampa on my mom's side was a horseshoe man by the time he was 28, I think. He was a man with a lot of integrity, and that integrity was manifested in part in the fact that the man never attempted the dreaded combover. I often tell the people I love, please, if I ever succumb to that, please, please please, unplug the life support immediately. I wrote a song once called "Drive," and it has a good line in it: "When I get older, someday, man, I hope I lose my hair. At least, then, when I look in the mirror, I'll know I'm there." I think I was 24 when I wrote that. Looks like I'm getting my wish. I will admit to you that I've actually owned a container of Rogaine. I even kept the routine up for a few weeks. Then I realized the futility of it all and dumped it. There are some things in life that you just accept. For me, one of those things will have to be that I'm going to be a bald man. So now I'm watching "Battlebots." I swear, this is some of the best television ever; it was even before they got Carmen Electra. Look at these 'Bots, beating the shit out of each other. ::laughing like Beavis:: That was cool. Wow. Maybe I should go to sleep. Nah.

VIRGINIA BEACH�I sat for six hours and force-fed standup comedy to my recuperating mother this evening on Comedy Central. (I know I haven't mentioned this, I don't want to say much about it here. I will say that she's being one courageous lady. Power to ya, Mom, I love you.) Anyway, the best line of the night came from Greg Proops, who referred to Canada as "an entire country named Doug." Titter.

I am playing with my new toy right now. Damn, this is friggin' easy. I's friggin' greet is what it is. Friggin' greet. GET IN MY BELLY! Perhaps I should go to lunch soon.

Today, I have come to an executive decision. I have in the past taken a lot of pride in the fact that I design and build this Web site on my own. However, it's coming time to make a few decisions about how I want to proceed. Soon, I will have to ante up again to responsor this domain name and this host or to decide if existing service can suit my needs better. After having experimented with the Blogger system and successfully overlapping my existing design onto a Blogger template, it's become clear that Blogger has a LOT more to offer than my current host for this purpose. With Blogger, I can offer commenting, I can update easily, with automatic date headers�not to mention a timestamp�and I can archive instantly. It is, quite simply, the right tool for the job. Until my hosting contract is up in May, I will have the old domain point in this general direction. Hopefully, that's enough time for folks to bookmark, if yer interested. This move will save me a lot of cash and will at the same time make this sucker a lot more fun. Have a nice day.