OK, after a week off, we're back in the saddle again.
:: There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old's life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.
:: Ninjas are for those people who think bounty hunters are the best part of Star Wars because the only stuff in Star Wars they can stand is stuff that happens offscreen in their minds.
:: The Darwin debate never ceases,
For he wounded the pride of our species
When he made you and me
Share the family tree
With those monkeys that love to fling faeces. (An older post, but funny. Kudos!)
:: To celebrate (or mourn) the last episode of Battlestar Galactica tonight, I made Cylon cookies. (Wow, I really need to watch BSG one of these days.)
:: It’s always interesting to see a place through the eyes of a person who came from somewhere very different.
:: Widower/crooner Danny Gokey did not wow the judges this week with his version of the Carrie Underwood smash, “Jesus, check the oil”. (I suppose I should go on record as saying that I actually kind of liked Adam Whatsisname's LSD-enhanced, Ravi Shankar-ized arrangement of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire". I can see why a lot of people hated it, but I liked that he was the non-country singer who, instead of trying to find some kind of country song he could sound kinda-sorta countryish with and just survive to the next round, instead chose to do something completely off the wall in an admission that country just isn't his thing. I also want to know if Paula, eternally drunk and/or stoned as she is during Idol, started to flash back during the performance.)
:: I do enjoy pointing and laughing, but I'll refrain for the moment. Why? Well, I've heard tell that a noble spirit embiggens the smallest man, and I hope to imagine greater. (SyFy? WTF?!)
:: One of the problems when your life is a literary conceit ...
... is that you maintain faith in the happy ending. (Boy Howdy, she's right on that one.)
More next week....