Tipper Gore has announced that she is considering a run for Senate. In a related story, Al Gore has announced that both of his testicles have turned black, shriveled, and fallen off completely.

Show me the way to the next sushi bar. Oh, don't ask why. Oh, don't ask why. I tried sushimi while in Vegas. I didn't order it directly, I tried somebody else's. Not to be unsophisticated or anything, but blech! I also tried sake. Also, blech. I'm home now, and ever so happy to be here. I got in at 1:30 a.m. Stayed up 'til like 3. Woke up and had breakfast with Uncle Johnny. Glad to be home. I missed the feta cheese and spinach and tomato omlette at Metro 29. I missed Alice the Cat (I've renamed her "Alice." Don't ask.) I missed having my own computer. I missed not having to wear a tie every day. Now that I'm home, I can start telling everyone to read Michael Moore's Stupid White Men. Every American should read this fabulous book. Yes, that means you. And now, to go recover from Vegas.

Friends, you haven't lived until you've had the opportunity to eat something called "fried goat cheese cakes." This is, I think, perhaps, the world's most perfect food. After all, it has goat cheese, and it's fried. Other unsolicited opinions from Gomorrah West: The world needs more men like James Carville, Tom Tomorrow, and, most of all, Bill Bradley. I know, I know. The man has a turkey neck and two first names. I saw him speak this morning, however, and I'm telling you, he is one of the clearest thinkers this nation has to offer today. His prescription for America: "...a pluralistic democracy and a growing economy that takes more and more people to higher ground." I told him so, too, as I got my picture snapped with him after his speech. "I think we need you in 2004, Mr. Bradley," said I. The giant man standing next to me didn't respond. I think he had jetlag, and my bet is that the little blue dot from the flash was still hovering for him.

The Bellagio has perfected elevator muzik. When you step onto the elevator, there is no music playing. Then, once the elevator car begins its descent, music starts to play. It is always a different genre; sometimes it plays show tunes, sometime Sinatra, sometimes Baroque. It's little details like this that makes a week's stay at this place interesting and pleasant. From my room, I can see the fountain waters dance. The water streams, I've heard, are directed by little explosions at the pool bottom. You can turn on the television in your room to a particular channel and listen to music the water dance is coordinated to. I actually stood at my window a few nights ago and watched the waters dance to Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On." And it was actually pretty cool. Our convention has been successful. My program with the author G.D. Gearino went over very well. I'm going to write Dan a big thank you note when I get home. "Dear Dan," it will read, "thank you for making me look good." I'm ready to go home now. Unfortunately, the convention schedule disagrees with me. I have one more day.

I'm going to write a book for children about how to behave in airports. Here is a brief excerpt: "See the pretty dog. See the pretty dog sniffing the suitcases. Pet the pretty doggie. Good doggie."

For the record, I made it to Vegas. No terrorist attacks, no major shakedowns by overzealous security staff...I suffered nothing but boredom and fidgeting on a 5-hour (BEVERAGE ONLY) flight. The time difference is difficult to account for right now. I have already tried to attend a staff meeting two hours early.

Is it just me, or does John Basedow look like a chicken?

Today, I'm packing. Well, that's the plan. I'm getting somewhat psyched about convention. It's going to be different from previous years because I'll be wearing a lot of hats. I'll be busy, you bet. It will be strange not traveling under a full moon. When I was traveling more frequently, I could always seem to count on a full moon to watch over me. I've seen her full and strong over the Alamo and in the middle of Vegas. I'll miss her, though I don't know if I'll have much time to notice her. I'm nervous about the trip. Nervous I won't be able to drag my ass out of bed on time, nervous about flying, nervous about the whole security rigamarole, nervous about convention. I'm psyched, though. Looking forward to it. Off to pack.

In today's Washington Post, there is a story about one of the officers involved in the attack on Hatian immigrant Abner Louima being released on $1 million bond. Louima, you'll remember, was treated by New York's finest to an asstickle with a broom handle. This is an actual paragraph from this story. I am not making this up. "Louima eventually received an $8.75 million settlement from the city of New York and the police union, and moved last year to the Miami area with his wife and three children—in part, he said, to try to put his painful past behind him."

Meanwhile, in the "all our base are belong to us" file...(click this!)

When you decide to make changes to your blog, you can make some hellish mistakes. I decided today that I want to keep my domain name next year. I like owning my own domain name, and to me, it's worth the money. So I decided to put some redirect script onto the blogspot page. In the process, I messed up the template. I will, I hope, have it back the way it was before, better, stronger, faster...You may change your bookmarks, if you like. Sorry about all the confusion. My e-mail will continue to cruise over to AOL, though I have forwarded bjp.com mail.

Brit Hume says that Disney, who owns ABC, must be smarting at being portrayed in the press as "a profit-hungry, greedy corporation uninterested in bringing the news to America." Well, Brit (is Droopy your dad, by the way?), if it walks like a profit-hungry, greedy corporation uninterested in bringing the news to America, and if it quacks like a profit-hungry, greedy corporation uninterested in bringing the news to America...well... It's nice to some extent to know that the bullshit doesn't stop when you're in the highest levels of the profession, that the capitalists will always dick around with the news staff no matter where you are, and that the foolish dynamic doesn't change at different levels of professionalism in the media. Even at ABC news, it seems, management just isn't happy until it runs in and goes mad with a thresher. By its very nature, news is a liability. News staff is not there to help sell advertising. News staff will require a budget and will sop up your resources and will never on its own generate a dime for you. The concept of news as a profit center is a new idea. Television networks initially established news departments because radio had them, and radio had them at the behest of the FCC, which once upon a time as a useful governmental entity held a crazy notion that the public airwaves belonged to the public and had an obligation to serve said public. "Nightline" was born from that idea in an urgent time. Iran had our people, and Ted Koppel kept us apprised of the progress at 11:30 p.m. every night. There was no CNN and no Internet. There was only Ted. It was a noble experiment, one that stuck and one that has brought some of the most compelling news stories over the years. Every weekday evening, a serious and respected newsman sits down to tell a story, and a news format developed and perfected in that time slot delivers news with a depth that Stone Phillips and the gang can't touch. It doesn't surprise me that ABC and Disney brass can be so cavalier with Koppel, who deserves a far fairer shake than all of this. Stuffed-shirt capitalist pinheads like this cannot grasp the value of a good news staff and can't grasp the value of anything that doesn't have a bottom line. "Nightline" is still doing its job, and people still need "Nightline." Demographics be darned to heck.

Pet peeve #7,642: Just because that door has a button to push to make it open automatically doesn't mean that you should push that button and make the door open automatically. Do you see the little icon underneath it? That button is for folks who can't open that door on their own. "Disabled" people, as it were. Here's the thing about machines: The more they're used, the more maintenance they require and the more likely they are to BREAK. Therefore, the more pedestrians use that button, the more likely it is not to be available for somebody who might actually NEED it. So take your little arm and grab the little handle and PULL.

My last two entries ended with questions. Is that okay?

I am Lloyd Dobler. I am the keymaster. And I want to be President of the United States of America. Can you dig it?

Note to self: Don't forget to watch "The Osbornes" tonight on MTV at 10. Thank you. Note to YOU. Amy Fisher isn't boxing Tonya now. Paula Jones is. Won't that be a little more interesting?

In about 15 minutes, I'm going to eat cake. We're all going to eat cake. Everybody in my office is going to eat cake. Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake. Cake, cake. Let's all eat some cake.

A few boring technical notes... I have, you may have noticed, changed my e-mail address back to AOL. This is a part of my effort to save myself some dough on this little hobby in a sensible fashion. I am soon to relinquish my Earthlink account and to return to relying on AOL as my ISP at home. It was a practical choice. When I offer people my e-mail address as "Aaron@brassjarproject.com," they scratch their heads and say, "huh?" When I tell them to write to me at AOL, however, everyone knows precisely what I'm talking about. There were, of course, other advantages. AOL has FTP space and does not restrict accesibility via Blogger like Yahoo does (for images and such). Plus, a lot of folks I know are on AOL. Oddly enough, I felt estranged from them, not being here myself. So, I'm back. ::wave:: Also, for those of you who used to visit just to play Tetris...I've moved it to the links page. Look under "T." For "Tetris." One more boring technical note: I've moved the archives. That is all.

Last night, I made what was possibly the most yummy lasagna that has ever been created in the universe. It was a test project. I'm having the fam over to the big house Friday for lasagna. Some of the housemates are traveling, so I decided that this would be a great week to go nutzo in the kitchen. And I've been dying to teach myself how to make a good lasagna. However, it's never wise to spring your first attempt on guests. So, I guess I'll be living on lasagna for the next few days. A tip: The non-boil noodles are fantastic. Just throw them in and they do all the werk. No muss no fuss. I made a few mistakes, but that's why I have the practice batch. The batch I pull out of the oven on Friday is going to be killah. In other breaking news: I'm going to Las Vegas on Sunday. I'm a little nervous about the whole damned thing, starting with the question of whether or not I will be capable of getting my ass out of bed when I'm required to in order to make my plane and ending with the question of whether or not some whackos will try to fly my airplane into the side of a building. But I have to go. It's bidness. I will, by the way, be able to blog from there. One of the advantage of using Blogger is that I don't have to rely on having FTP software to do what I gotta do. And, I am in charge of the Cyber View Café, so I'll be sitting in front of a compyooter pretty much all day. Yep, I'll blog from Vegas, baby.

Hi. I'd like a gyro please. Yes, with onions. Chomp!

There are so many things wrong with this that I don't know where to begin. Okay, fine; I'll start here. They SHOULDN'T BE BOXING. Boxing is a sport that athletes train hard for and use their brains and their bodies for and that has a history and a methodology and a glory all its own. It's like having a football game with singer-songwriters from the early to mid-70s. England Dan and John Ford Coley will be team captains. Uh, okay, I pick James Taylor. James? HELLO? Yeah, I heard you. Well get over here. Well, okay, then, I pick Carly Simon. She'll kick his ass, and she can hide the ball in her teeth. Uh, okay, well, then, I pick Ace and Gary; I mean, Hall and Oates over there. Oh yeah? Fine, fine. If you get both of them, then I get Todd Rundgren and Janis Ian... Second, why is Tonya Harding boxing Amy Fisher? Shouldn't Tonya Harding be boxing Nancy Kerrigan? Shouldn't Amy Fisher be boxing Mary Jo Buttafuco? And why the hell isn't Mariah Carey boxing anybody? This is, surely, a sign that each of these individuals has just given up. I suppose one can only fight so hard and against so much for self-respect before she reaches the conclusion that her deeds have been malicious enough and reviled enough that her only option is to profit through self-ridicule. I suppose that once your crime becomes you, all you really can do is to throw yourself in front of the camera, do whatever they want you to do and waddle off with a wheelbarrow full of cash. I'd say that I wish they'd both get paid to beat the living shit out of Darva Conger, but what she did wasn't in the same league. It was stupider. I'll be watching, all right, but only because I love boxing. I want to see if Bonaduce has a decent hook. He's boxing Barry Williams. God Damn, I Love America!

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.