correlation is not causation

Last night, Alabama and most of the rest of the American South picked Mike Huckabee as their candidate of choice in the 2008 presidential election.

Today, a mass of tornadoes devastated the same area.

A scientist would say that correlation is not causation...but evangelicals don't believe that science proves anything. So I guess the only other available option is that they're being punished for designating a wild-eyed, bible-humping fear monger out of his head on Speed and Scripture as a rational human being, let alone a person capable of running this country.

YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWW

photo NY Times

Remind me why we beat Howard Dean off the political scene with a baseball bat studded with railroad spikes for his post-Iowa crazy again?

Super Tuesday is one of the darkest days of the year for the myth of unbiased jounalism.

Get it girl.

Super Tuesday MLK redux

Consider this my official disenrollment from "the chorus of cynics."

I want to be inspired. Strike all my defense of Hillary as the better politician. Just because the system exists, doesn't mean I have to support the person who plays it best.

Fuck the system.

Yes we can.

Football Season Is Over

Just in case you were wondering, this year on February 20, the anniversary of the Good Doctor's death, (mahalo, sir) there will be a total lunar eclipse. Celebrate with whatever combination of chemicals, debauchery and pagan reverence you see fit.

And thus, the football gods did smile...

...and they did decree The Underdog the most blessed of all their creations.

Seeing the Pats lose the only one that counted was one of the most satisfying non-Pittsburgh related sports moments of my life. Also, this lends more support to my theory that it is impossible to win a Super Bowl without some sort of adversity in your path. Swagger doesn't win championships;beating a pretty-boy quarterback into the ground for 60 minutes does. First-round playoff byes and running up the score all season do not instill a team with the kind of grit it takes to clutch the Lombardi in a fit of orgiastic glee.

And now, to continue dealing with this unholy mess that has taken up residence in my sinuses. These are evil, evil times. Mahalo.

oh hell, while i'm at it

Drew, you silly man. And while I'm not going to turn up my nose at my share of the "economic stimulus package" I am firm in my belief that anyone who thinks an extra couple hundo is going to solve what's wrong with our economy is incredibly foolish.

Less tanks, more educated people with access. Silly ideas, what with the feeling that people have the right to education and health care just on the merits of being people. And that these commodities for everyone would benefit the entire country. How do you propose we pay for all the this? Simple. I find it difficult to stomach that we live in a world where Pepsi, Anheiser Busch, etc. can pay $2.7 mill for a SuperBowl ad but people can't afford prescription medication, or where kids drop out at 15 to work a minimum wage job.

Not to mention that the government shelled out for an anti-drug add this year — just a thought, but maybe they should have been putting that money to better, more concrete use?

Fighting wars on abstract nouns is the American curse. There's something to be said there about semantics and modernity, but I fail to articulate.

one for the kids

Whilst frantically searching for Schoolhouse Rock videos on YouTube last night, the roommate and I came across this. Whoever had the time and energy to make a liberal, political Schoolhouse Rock video is my hero.

too weird to die.

Dennis baby, you were too much man for this ice bitch of a country to handle. Your particular brand of politico whack-a-doo, what with the seeing UFOs and being a vegan, and a pacifist and having an mind-bogglingly hot wife just didn't sit right with us.
Again.
I mean, who wants to vote for someone who want to institute radical change, and impeach the President who's gotten us into such a goddamn mess in the first place?

"But I believe it's a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living god. And that's what we need to do -- to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view." -MH

BUT people are still casting votes for Mike Huckabee's crazy ass. There was a point I wanted to make here about this country's ability to stomach one specific kind of crazy and not another, but I am honestly just too tired.

who needs affection when i have blind hatred?

Heath Ledger. My 13-year-old soul weeps for you. Nothing beats you in 10 Things I Hate About You which may have marked the exact moment I learned to love tall, slightly physically awkward boys who made inappropriate choices about their hair and were full of sass. And who chain smoked. And who maybe were secret assholes, but maybe really sweet. That turned out really well.

I recall a Teen People photo spread where your golden Aussie curls were all softly lit and your lips were pouty and I totally wanted to bang you, even though I barely knew what banging was.

Not to mention you're probably awesome ask The Joker and a really good actor, and you seemed so over all the Hollywood bullshit, and you have the cutest daughter.

Brit's still kicking around Malibu though. And now this.

norrinator (Autoreply): i wonder if could get an extension on my paper because i am mourning heath ledger's death.
MoNkee(Autoreply): Heaaaaaaaaaaaaaathhhh
norrinator: HOW CAN I MOVE ON WHEN YOU WON'T LET ME
norrinator: WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU
MoNkEe: BECAUSE.
MoNkEe: I MUST REMIND YOU OF YOUR PAIN. YOU CANNOT FORGET HIM. YOU CANNOT.
norrinator: hahahahaha.
norrinator: clearly quoting brokeback mountatin is called for at this juncture
norrinator: i wonder how jake g. feels
MoNkEe: well, if what the news is telling me is indeed correct, then since jake g. is a gay cowboy, he is currently mourning the loss of his lovah.
norrinator: basically
MoNkEe: probably on top of a mountain or something
norrinator: with a horse
norrinator: and a tent.
MoNkEe: SEX.
MoNkEe: BUTT SEX.
norrinator: so INAPPROPRIATE
norrinator: YOU ARE NOT HONORING HIS MEMORY
MoNkEe: YES I AM.
MoNkEe: THE BUTT SEX SCENE WAS THE FIRST OF ITS KIND THAT I'VE EVER SEEN.
MoNkEe: MAGICAL.
norrinator: first...and BEST

(screen name edited to protect my roommate)

to catch a goddamn predator

Hey. Jan 30 is "International Delete Your MySpace Day"

Okay, after a bout with hating the internet a few years ago, I haven't really had a MySpace. I have an account, but I only have a picture up, and some basic info. And I have no friends (not for lack of requests). It was mostly just so I could log in to view people's MySpace photos. But I don't really even do that any more.

So I guess you can just take everything I wrote about my MySpace up there and put it in the past tense. Because it's gone, suckas. The best part about this is they ask you for the reason you're deleting...I simply wrote "fuck you tom." Short sweet and to the point. However, in case you decide to join me, here's a pretty decent list of reasons you could enter into field.

1. I'm tired of blink-y, shiny, glittery, hot pink, animated, thousand picture profiles blaring Natasha Bedingfield crashing my browser.
2. I'm tired of gothy, black, morbid, animated, thousand band picture profiles blaring death metal crashing my profile.
3. You have no standardized layout, which allows any monkey to customize however they want — and I am aesthetically offended by the clashing fonts/colors/general inanity.
4. I will no longer enable sexual predators.
5. You have enough money.
6. I'm sick of your awful banner ads and site glitches.
7. Deleting spam requests from creepy old men and crappy bands is taking up a huge chunk of my day which I could be using for the betterment of humanity.
8. Pedophiles. Kidnappers. General creeper-y.
   
9. I mean, have you been on MySpace lately?

Delete your MySpace. Because Facebook is better anyway, and you don't need any more marriage proposals from Amir in Qatar.

a word about gender and politics

Allow me to preface what is about to come by saying that I have no idea who I will vote for in the 2008 election. At this point, I might cast my vote as a write-in for Dennis Kucinich, because Holy Hay-seuss, am I tired of election coverage.

That being said, if we are allegedly a nation that more respects, reveres and "equally" treats its women, why can we not have one run for president without calling out her every display of emotion as evidence that she is unfit to lead?

Hillary is viewed a soulless, ball-busting man eater. Her campaign starts to go south, and she tears up on camera (probably a publicity move, but not any more than stumping, or going to church regularly, or the Republicans putting all ten minorities at their convention directly in line with cameras...but I digress.) and SUDDENLY she to too weak-willed and womanly to be a serious contender for the office of commander in chief.

An article from Slate shows the other part of Hil's gender that negatively influences her image, and her campaign — the fact that she has a powerful, famous, widely-recognized Democrat for a husband. I love Bill, will all of my heart, but this article has a point. If he keeps standing up for Hillary, people are going to think she can't stand up for herself.

Which brings me back around — America doesn't put its women in hijab, like them dayum Ay-rab terrorists who are supposedly our enemy, but we've also never had a woman leader, or even a female second in command. For all of our country's high-flying talk about respect and equality and democracy, there's still a huge portion of people (men and women) who would not vote for a woman president (ANY woman president) because Lord knows that when she gets her period, she's going to nuke the first thing she sees.

And that's not even saying anything about the disproportionate amount of coverage devoted to how Hilary looks, what Hilary wears, and whether or not she is in general "too manly."

Ireland, New Zealand, India, Mozambique, Germany, Finland, The Philippines, Switzerland, Chile and Liberia — ten countries— currently have elected or appointed female leaders. Another five have female monarchs.

Roughly half of Europe has had women in power at one point, and a large portion of the countries we consider Uhmarika superior to in Asia, South America and Africa have had them too. But in this country, we think powerful women are unnatural, against the order and out of their place — unless they're doing something for "women's issues" like healthcare, the (laughable) war on drugs, or education.

All men are created equal. And you bitches had better not forget it.

why won't they just go away

Deliciously nubile and recently Wentzed Ashlee Simpson is apparently making music that's younger than her new face again. And (quelle suprise) it's awful. See for yourself:


Mostly, she's just trying to do this:

By way of this:


I made a Vox post about this last year, after the release of Gwen Stefani's last disaster of an album, but I feel that it bears repeating. Gwen, you've really got to take the brunt of the blame for this one, since Love.Angel.Music.Baby was such a hit monster.

BUT that does not mean I needed to hear it four or five more times, in a series of grimey, watered-down, pseudo M.I.A. permutations. I did not need Fergie's album, or your second, or apparently this new monstrosity by Ashlee (nothing more annoying than the way she spells her name, by the way) "I didn't get a nose job" Simpson. [Enough asides for ya?]

That being said, PLEASE watch that Ashlee Simpson video. No amount of eye makeup, straight jackets or creative costuming make her able to replicate the sort of robotic, herky-jerky movements that Gwen pulls off in "What You Waiting For?" That is because, at some level, Gwen Stefani is an artist and performer. I can even semi-tolerate Fergie's ghetto-fab, skanky take on the whole thing, because at least she commits.

Fucking Ashlee Simpson is just going through the motions. She, and the majority of all "pop starlets" need to be stopped.

Quelle suprise.

damn it feels good to be a gangster

Or, look what I found on the Internets today!

Someone with lots of time, and a fondness for graphs does interpretations of rap jamz. Theses are a few of my favorites, more here, for your enjoyment.

In additon, the NY Center for Independent publishing holds its 20th anniversary book fair this weekend. Check out the sweet shit here, and join me in wishing you lived in the Big Apple.

print the news and raise hell

Today, http://www.journalism.org/ , released this study about coverage of the war in Iraq. The survey was conducted by the Project for Excellence in Journalism, and the results are bizarre and extremely troublesome to an idealistic journalist still in college.

To note:

Even the basics of getting the story are remarkably difficult. Outside of the heavily-fortified Green Zone, most U.S. journalists must rely on local staff to do the necessary face-to-face reporting. Yet nearly nine out of ten journalists say their local staff cannot carry any equipment—not even a notebook—that might identify them as working for the western media for fear of being killed. Some local staffers do not even tell their own families.

If American journalists are not doing the reporting, but relying on a third party to bring them information, how can media audiences in the United States think they are getting anything close to what is actually going on in Iraq?

Nine out of ten of the journalists surveyed said that at least half of Baghdad is too dangerous to visit. Too dangerous to visit! The news I read every day about this war-- where does it come from? Iraqi journalists undercover for the Western media? The truth about what is going on in that country is not being reported, long story short, and it's more than just adverse conditions. The embedding program sucks, and the fact that Western journalists can't go anywhere without body armor, guards and armored trucks should say more about the validity of this war than their reporting could.

Above all, the journalists—most of them veteran war correspondents—describe conditions in Iraq as the most perilous they have ever encountered, and this above everything else is influencing the reporting. A majority of journalists surveyed (57%) report that at least one of their Iraqi staff had been killed or kidnapped in the last year alone—and many more are continually threatened. “Seven staffers killed since 2003, including three last July,” one bureau chief wrote with chilling brevity. “At least three have been kidnapped. All were freed.”

Eight out of ten journalists felt that conditions for storytelling in Iraq have gotten worse, not better, much like the situation in the country.

And yet, we go on, placating ourselves with platitudes.

Whatever the problems, a magazine reporter offered, “The press….have carried out the classic journalistic mission of bearing witness.”

Lady (this sounds like a female sentence, so whatever), you are nuts. We are not here to bear witness. We are here to print the news and raise hell. Ask tough questions, tell tough stories and inform the public.

Which media outlet has run a story about the dangers faced by its reporters, the terribly unstable and unsafe conditions, even in Baghdad? What media outlets have called for our withdrawal from this insanity? Who is pushing the politicians to be accountable for civilian deaths and government secrecy?

Tell the story of how bad it is there. Let us know it's getting worse, not better. You are there. We are not. Be a journalist, not an objective, impassive channel for facts.

Facts are not news, and accuracy doesn't necessarily equate truth. These are the realities of journalism in the 21st century, and if somebody doesn't get up and realize that our passion is our greatest tool and our greatest weapon, we're all going to be replaced by robots who can make phone calls.

"I'll ask my question, thank you very much"

Hokay, so, there's this.

This morning, all CNN played was the portion of this clip where the UF student was being tazed. After watching the full thing, this guy wasn't doing anything wrong. Not. a. single. thing. The UP police attempted to arrest this man, for speaking. For speech that was inflammatory, for speech that was controversial, but not for anything that isn't covered under that little thing we like to call the First Amendment. He wasn't inciting riot, or panic, not was he speaking in a manner than could be considered "fighting words." Was anyone in that audience getting up to riot, or fight? He was taken off the mike because the university police, trumped up, as they always are, with a sense of their own power, felt he was behaving in a manner that was inappropriate.
Then, as he was being taken out and arrested (love to see what those charges are going to be. Resisting arrest? The question is what was he being arrested for in the first place? Also, I'm pretty sure I didn't catch any Miranda rights on that video.) and was subdued by at least three, and what appeared to be more like five police officers, he was tazed, for trying to stand up. I'm going to say that again. For trying to stand up, and be arrested, like a dignified and decent human being. As he pled, and begged these men not to taze him, they did it anyway. And did anyone catch the hapless look of bemusement on big whitey's face before he realized he was on camera and told the camera operator to get back? (it's at about 3:17, for those of you playing along at home)
Which leaves me wondering-what in the hell has it come to when freedom of speech is so restricted, even on college campuses, the traditional home base of radical thought? Lest you think I have no respect for law enforcement, I absolutely do. What I don't have respect for is 1) unwarranted and baseless arrests 2) the fact that campus police feel that college students are less than animals and should be treated as such. I've seen it with my own eyes. The teargassing of hundreds of students, guilty of nothing more than being on the streets en masse. The nightsticking of those who've fallen from the gas. Cops, amped up on adrenaline and testosterone, firing tear gas wantonly into groups of less than ten people.
Why, on large college campuses, do college students suddenly lose their rights when they don't toe the line exactly? Last time I checked, we are the reason you have a job, and the reason the university exists. That's not to say that we are above the law, but we should be allowed basic constitutional freedoms, such as speech and assembly.
The fascist-izing of America is disgusting. And I'm as guilty as anyone of sitting by and letting it happen. If college students were serious about regaining their place as the innovators and conscience of this country, we would all protest this audacious abuse of power. We would stand up and say "We hate this war, we hate this president, and we hate the way you rich, old white fucks are running this country."

You know. Kind of the way this kid tried to.

(P.S. I love, love, love how John Kerry droned on through the poor soul getting tazered. Nice compassion, asshole.)

it's britney, bitch

Ah, the VMAs.

The end-of-summer, end all, be all of irrelevant awards shows. Last night's awards were, in a word, epic. Britney was back, old rock stars got punched, and everyone was drunk and in Vegas.

Which, was the best part about the show, to be honest. For a generation with an increasingly shorter attention span, MTV did the smart thing and axed an hour from the show, incorporated snippets of performances from everyone from T.I. to the Foo Fighters (featuring Cee-lo) and Fall Out Boy (featuring Rihanna) in between presenter nonsense, shameless self promotion— and maybe an award or two, and claimed they were only going to broadcast the show once [although it re-aired immediately after it ended.] MTV promoted its "remixed" version of the show, as well as web videos of the suite concerts all night— proving that the broadcast media is in as much danger of being replaced by the Internets as the print media.

The best part about the revamp of the VMAs was that the viewer felt like they were just hanging with the rockstars giving concerts for their own pleasure in Vegas suites. Kanye had a huge grin on his face while he dueted with Common in an incredibly up close and personal performance. The Foo Fighters called in everyone— the aforementioned Cee-lo, System of Down's Serj Tankian, Mastadon, and Queen of the Stone Age's Josh Homme for the most rock 'n roll of all the "intimate" performances. JT got drunk, accepted awards and yelled at MTV to play more videos—admirable.

Basically, the Vegas VMAs made us (bored twenty-something college students) feel like we were at a house party (something we can relate to) with the coolest kids in school (something we all want) Their decision to go host-free and employ a house "band," led by DJ/buzzkid/wunderkind Mark Ronson, was definitely an upgrade, as Ronson's arrangements of Top 40 hits like "Smack That" and "Wake Up Call" were 100% better than the real thing.

Who cares who won anything? At an awards show where Fall Out Boy wins "Best Group" three years in a row, does the Moon Man even attempt to claim a slice of creditability any more? I got to see Justin Timberlake shake his ass, Jaimie Foxx be a drunkass fool and Alicia Keys bring down the ceiling with a gospel choir. What else is there to ask for?

MTV: Pandering to short attention spans, youth culture and technology trends since 1985.

In a word, duh

I suck at blogging.

Sorry, but with everything that happened this summer, I just can't seem to muster up the energy to be witty, indignant, snarky and introspective in this space that the internet has provided for me on a consistent basis.

Hopefully, with school back in session and my news consumption up 200%, I'll be here more often.

This little ditty from the Times says what I could have told you after a week of working at the Writing Center— the real world is not a text message, forum or chat room. Learn to write, or me or one of my students is going to be taking your job.

journaliste

Yesterday, I said the following:

"Hey Kris, you wanted that nut graph about the East Village to stay high up, right?"

I am a nerd.

ann coulter always has been and always will be a diseased cunt

Like Christ ministering to prostitutes, Falwell regularly left the safe confines of his church to show up in such benighted venues as CNN.

Yes, Ann. CNN is exactly the direct equivalent of pre-Christian prostitutes. I think she must have a minion whack her in the skull with a bat every morning, just so she can keep churning this shit out.

Horse-faced bride of the devil with delusions about her "good-looks" and "morality" and "righteous indignation." God, I hate that cunt.

Not the sun

Everyone is a masochist.
I have to take control of something.
No more.

That doesn't matter, so here's a poem that's appropriate.

The Blackbirds are Rough Today
by Charles Bukowski

lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.

shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.

taken by tears like
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.

a hanky is in order your lord your
worship

the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.

and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:

why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution

you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.

we might surely have some interesting
correspondence.
it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.

don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on
doors.

Open letter

Dear MySpace,

With all you're supposed to be doing for my internets, would it kill you to incorporate a login bar at the top of your page (like livejournal)? If I have to sign in to look at someone's pictures, put it on the same damn page. I don't use MySpace for anything else; I don't even have a real profile. Interface. Look into it.


(Also, if you could maybe figure out something where I didn't have to look at flashing neon backgrounds, listen to bad country/hip-hop or watch stupid videos, I'd be cool with it. Oh, and if my browser didn't crash one out of five times when I visit your site. That would be awesome too.

Hearts,

Sarah

Things you should read

In Michigan, Not Even the Dead are Safe
The Abstinence-Only Delusion
Squeezing Money from Iron
Still Can't Find Stupid Pretty White Girl; Still No One Cares
Bones of prehistoric camel found at Wal-Mart site
Pittsburghers are the best complainers...in song

Also, don't miss George Tenet ripping Cheney on 60 Minutes tonight, or Brady's Quinn's smug, smarmy mug looking pissed and bitchy all over ESPN. Cleveland is the best place for you, Brady.

sticky-icky

obligatory "the white stripes' new single is awesome" post.

The aptly-named "icky thump" (there is, indeed a lot of thump, in typical white stripes style. and it is, in fact icky, in that big-heavy-chords/a-little-bit-funky way) is all over the internets, and in a matter of time, it will be all over my mtv and radio too. The album, also called icky thump, comes out on june 19, but until then, you can download the single here (an XFM radio rip) or get it in much higher quality from iTunes for a measley 99 cents.

Detroit, represent. Will Jack White ever do something that I don't love? Signs point to no.

(also, apparently I can't figure out if I want to use capital letters or not. With any luck, that will resolve itself soon.)

Please note the renovations

New title, new look, news start on this here blog (uar? can I call it that? I might anyway.) Leave a comment if you're having issues viewing anything. Gray on black isn't hard for me to read, but I have eyes like a goddamn hawk.

Also, there's a nifty little article about pre-Iraq disinformation and its subsequent consequences over on Daily Kos. An excerpt:

So, the Office of Special Plans was whipped up in the Pentagon as an alternative branch of intelligence sure to generate the damn the facts, full speed ahead documents Bush and Cheney needed to get their war on. Feith, who had previously written an open letter to Bill Clinton calling for immediate war in Iraq, was only too happy to comply. He pulled out his editing pencil and struck down every point of evidence that contradicted the goal of going into Iraq.

Enjoy

see you later, innovator

arctic monkeys-brianstorm, as promised. this isn't them on jimmy kimmel, it's just the video. the dancers are pretty sweet.

the british are my favourite spellers

the arctic monkeys were just on jimmy kimmel, playing a song from their new album. favourite worst nightmare (note the british "u"). it was very cool and as soon as i find a youtube clip, i'll post it. it was very different from their first album, which i kind of liked but didn't rave about.

when a band releases a decent album or two, that are pretty generally well accepted, critically favored and moderately successful, there are two routes they can take. a band can: a) release a more poppy, palatable album that will probably make them more money or b) do something just a little weirder, a little cooler, a littler more evolutionary, that will make them a better band, but less successful. Please see: Weezer, Brand New, Radiohead, TV On the Radio, Jimmy Eat World (although I guess Clarity was their third album, and Radiohead didn't really hit their stride until Ok Computer either.)

back to the point. I suppose there is another route a band can take, which is to try to duplicate their first album and not really do anything. boring, but ok, i guess.

um, so this has been sarah's indie rock corner. we'll be back next week with how gun metaphors should be unilaterally banned for anyone wearing guy liner. (pete wentz, i am looking at you.)

I took all that I could, it was free

God damn it.

God damn it Hempfield.

This is what happens when a school board, drunk with power, commits to a $6 million dollar renovation and construction of a "field house" which I'm pretty sure we didn't need. Plus building a new stadium and instalilng astrotuff, all within the last ten years. For a football team that never wins.

That board isn't there any more, for the most part. They got ousted last year after firing a popular football coach. Again, football.

Now administrators want to cut funding for the arts and foreign language. Fewer classes, fewer teachers, less art.

I wouldn't give a damn, but I still have a small brother who has to survive his requisite four years in that suburban steel-and-razorwire shithole without losing his mind. If he's anything like me (and let's be honest, he is) he's going to need some way of coping with the bullshit that is high school. I could understand a modest arts cut, if the cut was unilateral— but no. No one is proposing cutting any funding or staff anywhere else, just arts and foreign language. That's stupid. Why single out the arts, just because educators are too narrow-minded to view them as anything but frivolity? I just wrote an outraged letter-I'm mailing it to the administration, the school board and the superintendent tonight.

Kids learn just as much in pottery class as they do in bio. Probably more, because they won't be sleeping through half of it.

seriously? a shrewdness?

something I wish I was in on: the naming of groups of animals.

I'm sure whoever came up with that was just all like "here's some random words. "pride" ok, that's what we're going to call lions now." some other pretty awesome ones.

apes-shrewdness
camel-flock
cobra-quiver
crow-murder
elk-gang
hippos-bloat
leopard-leap
mouse-mischeif
otter-romp
rattlesnake-rhumba
tiger-swift/ambush (this one is kind of scary)
toad-knot

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go feed a mischief of mice to my rhumba of rattlesnakes.

web comics

I like them.

Here are some things you may be interested in.

This is my favorite.
This one has lots of exclamation points.
This,
this
and this are pretty good too.
This one is kind of sad.
I periodically enjoy this, too.

Apparently, my fight song is based on a hymn called "Stand Up, Stand up for Jesus." Good call on that one.

Pretty please?

Dear Al,

Please run for President in '08. Give them the rope-a-dope. Let Hilary and Obama swing until they've got nothing left, and the enter the race. Please. You've been nominated for an Oscar and a Nobel Peace Prize. Your have become distinguished rather than creepy. You have always been against the war, ahead of the curve on the environment...and well, everything else. You've already WON a presidential election for God's sake. Also, you are tossing around an Earth beach ball with Richard Branson. You might even be (dare I say it?) cool.

Finally-we thought you were stiff and unrelateable in 2000. Then, we saw John Kerry. No one has ever botched a campaign so thoroughly. Please Al. Please. You can wait six months and raise mad bank over the Internets (you did invent them, after all) in like, a week.

And make Hilary your running mate. Gore/Clinton '08? Yes, please.

Oh God. Oh fuck.

I said I didn't care that much about this election-- then the returns started coming in. And here I sit, with 5 tabs open in Firefox (CNN's BlogParty, Cnn.com, Wonkette, The Huffington Post and Blogger) hitting refresh until my fingers bleed.

I guess I lied. My spirit's not broken. Now I remembered why I wanted to report on politics--the orgasmic rush of he-said, she-said, the high of election night. I thought I was off the stuff, but turns out I'm a political junkie for life.


Sidebar: Excellent work CNN. So many infographics, continuing to run the returns through commercial breaks, having an options where I can customize the races I want to watch on your homepage. ALSO- as of 8:58 things look good!

1:17 AM update- No more Santorum. Democratic house (and at least a much closer Senate). Female speaker of the house. Hopefully, chaos on Capitol Hill and Democrats taking on the state of things in manner that shows they have something resembling fortitude.

I seem to have discovered something

Oh hey. A blog. The place where I verbally masturbate onto a computer screen and you come and read it, then tell me what a clever girl I am. Because what I read, think and like is so goddamn important.

So, today is election day. I've already voted absentee, so I get to ignore all this hullabaloo with a send of self-righteous amusement. As I've been saying for the past few weeks, I used to be so political- there was a time when I would be hanging on every state and race in this election with bated breath. The way things turned out, however, was that my spirit was crumpled by the clusterfuck that was the 2000 election, and then when its disasterous (fake) results failed to right themselves in the 2004 election, I pretty much lost my faith in the public at large to ever make an informed, rational decision about who is qualified to lead this country and who is not. Do I want the Democrats to take the House? Absofuckinglutely, but if they don't, I will probably just throw up my hands and say "typical."

I suppose this is what comes with "growing up"- the realization that politics, in general are a crock. I used to campaign and feel really good about trying to make a difference, when the fact of the matter is that all campaigning is is trying to up one candidate or party's exposure. Elections aren't about ideals or issues, they're about whose team picked a better tie, who sweat less under the studio lights, whose smile looks better plastered across a four-foot-tall billboard. Now, I view politics as something individual and more global. I care about issues/things, not parties/people. If the Republicans were to come up with a comprehensive plan tomorrow for alternative energy and then immediately began putting it into motion, I would be behind it 100%.

I have my beliefs and personal concerns about our government-but I don't feel like anyone represents them fully except me. Thus the reason this election is only of moderate interest to me, rather than the earth-shattering event it was four years ago. I wonder if everyone in this generation feels like this-were two elections where we were told our votes mattered most, but ended meaning nothing at all, enough to break our collective backs with the weight of political futility?

I'd like to hope not. I'd like to hope that there are people out there with more zeal and optomism than me, less selfish, more dedicated. I'd like someone to rally behind, but I'm just not interested enough to be that person.

This is my boom stick

Creepy.

Now that the Necronomicon has been found, you know it's only a matter of time before someone records that garbage and unleashes an army of the undead on us all. I for one, will be purchasing a shotgun, brushing up on my neck-snapping skills and possibly calling Michigan native Bruce Campbell for a zombie-slaying consult.

Also

Everyone else is really dumb

Jokes about Polaks being stupid can suck it.

Reason #485,000 why most men should not talk about issues of gender

This is a story of men behaving badly in groups.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. In column on espn.com's Page 2, Jason Whitlock says that the Duke lacross rape incident ( Here if you have no idea what I'm talking about.) shouldn't be viewed through a racial filter, rather one of gender. If he would have just stopped there, we might have been okay. After all, rape is a male-on-female crime in a far larger proportion that it is a one-color-on-another-color crime.

However, Jason is a professional columnist and has somewhere around 1,000 words to back this statement up. Which he does, beautifully, with the classic argument that "boys will be boys" and that's why this is a crime of gender-not because men in society are raised to have little respect for women in general, and no respect for women who may happen to strip for a living, but because they just can't help themselves.

Some highlights:

Men behaving badly in groups -- especially under the influence of alcohol -- cuts across all social, economic and racial demographics.

I always have contended, somewhat jokingly, that there should be rules outlawing men from gathering in groups of three or more without a woman as chaperone or serious surveillance equipment. Whitlock's law: A man's intelligence, maturity and decision-making skills decrease as the number of men within earshot of his voice increases.

Whitlock's law is a product of a youth spent sucking on beer bongs and zig zags, hosting and attending bachelor parties, growing up on the barstools inside my father's tavern and planning debauchery and lewd behavior with teammates and friends of all races.

I can honestly say that I don't have a male friend who could avoid saying, "There go I but for the grace of God" when thinking about the Duke lacrosse players.

Disgusting, utter bullshit and excuses, excuses, excuses. You can't treat a woman like a human being because of some societal constructs associated with being male? You can't understand the word "no" because you're around your buddies?

Whitlock isn't all bad here-he does suggest an education program, but what he suggests "...what constitutes sexual harassment, sexual assault, the dangers of alcoholism and drugs, unwanted and unwed pregnancy, how to respectfully socialize with people outside your race, etc." isn't anything the average college freshman hasn't heard a million times before. The problem here lies much, much deeper, mostly with Whitlocks male community excuse and his contention that strippers deserve no respect, just because they happen to take their clothes off for a living. His contention that alcohol and "planning lewd behavior" from an early age in a whacked out form of "male-bonding" is an excuse for the way these snotty Duke brats treated that woman is incredibly misguided.

Bottom line: Teach men how to view a woman as a human being, not as something they can degrade, ridicule and control and then maybe we'll talk. Jason and I agree on one point however-boys aren't raised to become men, they're raised to become idiots and sexists and that's probably where the problem lies.

(Note-I know this does not apply to all men. I know several who are respectful and gracious and lovely. Please hold off on thinking me a crazy man-hater, because I'm not.)

Don't get it twisted

So, Cynthia McKinney. You know who she is right? The Georgia congresswoman (D, of course) who's playing a game of "who-assaulted-whom" with Capitol Hill police who claim they didn't recognize her when she tried to bypass security and enter the Capitol Building. (FYI- Members of the House do not have to go through the security rigamarole, but are asked to wear special Congress pins. McKinney was not wearing hers at the time of the incident.)

Capitol Hill police are seeking a warrant for her arrest, charges as yet undisclosed. She is crying racism/sexism. A picture, for reference.



I'm fairly certain her claims of racism are justified-if she was a white woman, or a white man for that matter, chances are Capitol Hill police wouldn't have given a second thought as to her validity as a member of Congress.

At any rate, Cynthia was on Wolf Blitzer last night. Some highlights.


BLITZER: … you were talking earlier about racial profiling, and that there was racism involved in stopping you for questioning because you weren’t wearing your congressional pin.
MCKINNEY: Now, Wolf, you know I didn’t say that, so, don’t twist my words. BLITZER: Well, tell us what you said.
MCKINNEY: Don’t even begin to twist my words.

Wolf-this woman tangled with Capitol police. She will not hesitate to lay the smack down on you.

BLITZER: When did you — when did you change your hairstyle?
MCKINNEY: In January of this year. But don’t you think it’s really frivolous? And, really, I — I can’t even describe — if the security of the House of Representatives of the United States is based on how members of Congress wear their hair, Wolf, I think this is really ridiculous.

The contention here is, that McKinney changed her hair from the braided style in the photo above to a more free-flowing, mini-fro kind of deal and police are claiming they didn't recognize her because of her hair. Which is outrageous This woman has been in Congress for 11 years. Her hair has been changed for several months. This is seriously ridiculous, but it doesn't change the fact that Cynthia McKinney is still a Grade-A badass.

Also-I'm not certain about this and have no way of confirming, but I think she may have been the Congress member who is shown saying "We would like to call on the Senate, but the Senate is absent." in Farenheit 9-11.

At any rate-Well played Cynthia. Well played, indeed.

I've seen the needle and the damage done

I can't believe this is still shock to people. Heroin was huge when I was in high school, and I'm sure it's still huge three years later. For that matter, drugs of any kind in Westmoreland County are ridiculously hard to get ahold of. You name it, I know someone who did it on a regular basis.

It's times like this when I'm reminded of what a totally different world Western Pennsylvania is. Weird, crazy things happen there-Confederate flags, people who know how to shoot guns, etc, etc, etc. None of that exists here and I've yet to determine if that's about location or culture or economics or just a weird anomaly.

Oh Westmoreland County. You are a strange beast.

Ri-goddamn-diculous

Sir, you are under arrest for being a jagoff.

Only in Pittsburgh. Pigeons beware.

This is the story of Johnny Rotten

So fucking punk rock.

Deconstruction of textual convention, gender and agency, implications of language and useage

Where is the job market for being a pretentious literary asshole? I would like to be a part of that.

However, I cannot just walk into an advising office and say "Hey, I'm an arrogant, academic jerk who likes books. What should I do with my life?"

But really, writing ridiculous analytical papers is my only marketable skill.

Calling out the lurkers.

LuckyKatie53
WhatDaDillyYo18
Stephers449

Who are you and why are you here?

Jane Austen is rolling in her grave somewhere

I just saw a trailer for the movie version of Pride and Prejudice starring Kiera Knightly. The music scoring it? Fucking "Collide" by Howie Day.


Oh yes. Because when I think 19th century British comedy of manners novels, I think of shitty, sacchrine, acoustic pop-rock from 2005.

We are not amused.

Bad blogger, bad!

Sorry. I suck at blogging lately. Someday, I will get back to being political and updating everyday, I swear. Probably after midterms/when I get my legal issues worked out.

To placate you, here is a picture of a cat drinking Yueng-ling

If you'd like to know why I'm a feminist...

...it's because men like this continue to exist.

Also, I keep waking up every hour or so and it sucks ass.

Relax-This won't hurt.

We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

Four dead in Ohio

Rules for a Kent Weekend
1) Don't follow Angry. Ever.
2) Don't drive into the lake
3) "Not it," in fact, did not end when you left middle school
4) It's possible to live for three days eating nothing but caramel Ho-Hos, Ruffles and other Hostess products.


I had a great weekend. In other news, they're baaaaaaack



For real? Shut up and die and GET A LIFE, you pathetic waste. Actually, no, you know what? IM me. Ask me whatever it is you're so desperate to know, because I'm getting sick of you turning up just when I'd forgotten all about you.

Happy excuse to sell chocolate, cards, roses and diamonds (things that no one needs, ever) in the name of love Day.

Lame.

Peace out.

See ya later, Michelle Kwan. Now, we all felt bad for you when Tara took your gold in Nagano (8 years ago). We really did. But when you totally fucked up four years ago and got bronze, behind Sara Hughes and that Russian chick, we all started to think it was time for you to hang it up. Then, when you only skated in one qualifying event for these Olympics, but somehow still managed to get there, we were all a little pissed at you. Face it 'Chelle. You're too old to still be looking for your first gold. No one thinks you're endearing or inspiring any more. You didn't even win the last World Championship you skated in (2005, bronze medal). You're too old (I know, harsh when you're only 26) Gold medals aren't won by women any more, they're won by little girls who are light and tiny and freakishly creepy.

But really, how much does it suck that the little sister of the girl who beat your ass four years ago is taking your place? Michelle Kwan probably has a voodoo alter devoted to the Hughes sisters.

All of that being said, Team Sasha, FTW!

Thank you ESPN

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive

Oh, and by the way...we won the Superbowl. Despite all the hateration, it's still probably the best thing to ever happen.

Now, let's start on that other hand.

Dear Sportswriters of the world-

Your behavior today, the morning after the Superbowl, has confirmed my suspiscion that you are the lowest, vilest form of humanity alive. You talk up the Steelers, then say they have no mo' going into the Big Game because YOU have hyped them to. effing. death.

I will say this once and that will be the goddamn end of it. The Seattle Seahawks were not robbed. They had every bit as much chance to win that game as we did. If Mike Holmgren knew how to manage a clock or coach, your kicker would have made at least one of those field goals. If Jeremy Stevens had spent more time practicing and less time grooming his disgusting facial hair and thinking of clever ways to insult Joey Porter, you probably would have had two more touchdowns.

Referees make bad calls. But please do not diminish the accomplishments of the Steelers because of it. If Seattle was a team worthy of the Lombardi trophy, they would have overcome the bad calls...you know. Like the Steelers did against the Colts.

In short, fuck off Skip Bayless, Mark Schlerett and almost everyone else who writes/announces for ESPN.

Oh yeah-And when a reciever extends his arm the whole way pushing off a defender THAT IS OFFENSIVE PASS INTERFERENCE. SHUT UP. Just because most of the time the reciever gets away with it, does not make it ANY LESS pass interference. Same with that "controversial" holding call. When you fuck up, in front of a ref, in the Superbowl, expect to get your ass flagged for it AND STOP CRYING INTO YOUR GODDAMN HALF-CAF, DOUBLE FOAM, NON-FAT SOY LATTES, YOU BIG CRYBABIES.

Best headline ever

Dominatrix beats murder wrap

Oh Jesus-there are pictures of the prosecuter wearing a bondage mask, trying to demonstrate something or other.

This just in

- I love hearing Bill Hillgrove on ESPN
-The Senate straight up sucks.
-I just want to go home
-How is the Bettis fumble/Ben tackle NOT the top play of the playoffs?

Oh. Because it's Vanderjackass missing the field goal "Call up the travel agent, remake those reservations, we're going to Denver!"

Tiny cities made of ashes

So, I just got an invitation to write for Love is Not an Orgasm

Also-If you haven't heard about it already, check out my blog Overheard at MSU

I'd really like to get that off the ground, but I need so much help/submissions. I can't just put in funny shit my friends say. Well, I guess I could to get it started.

Something I'll decide today, I guess.

Seriously folks

Please go here and sign this petition to encourage Senators to not confirm Alito for the Supreme Court.

Here's the text of the petition.

Dear Senators,
The Senate must reject President Bush's attempt to reward right-wing special interests by nominating Judge Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court of the United States. Alito's record as an ideological activist would make his confirmation a threat to civil rights protections, reproductive and privacy rights, environmental protections, religious liberty, and laws safeguarding workers.
I urge you to vote not to confirm Samuel Alito to a lifetime position on the Supreme Court of the United States.

Also Daily Kos has an excellent article about the confirmation/fillibuster, that also has a link to the petition.

It takes four seconds-just fill in your info and hit submit. If you're really feeling daring, you can call some of the on-the-fence Democrats and Republicans, as well as Democrats supporting Alito and ask them not to confirm.

I already talked with Carl Levin (D-Mich.)'s office. Duh, it's Sunday, but I left a message.

Horse-faced bride of the devil.

You know, sometimes when I want to be whipped into a raging frenzy over the amount of stupidity, hate and blind, misguided faith in the world - I read Ann Coulter.

Her Jan. 25 column "How abortion stopped a bleeding heart" is seriously ridiculous.

What a bitch.

Oh God, Oh God, this is the funniest thing I saw today.

K-Fed attacks!!

Questions that need to be answered:
1) Who taped this?
2) How did it get on the internet?
3)Whoever taped it, are they aware that Kevin Federline is high as a kite?
4) Does K-Fed realize, that he is in fact white?
5) Or that this is quite possibly, the worst song in the history of music?
6) Britney Spears married this dude... why?

The world may never know. I promise you-watch that video. It will be the funniest thing you see today.

Ho-hum

The inevitable backlash .

Every woman in America would sell her soul to have a milk shake with that motherf*cker

John Cusak, that is. Ever since seeing/reading High Fidelity, I've complied Top Five lists in great numbers. These lists are not to be taken lightly — a lot of thought goes into their compliation.

Top Five Guilty Pleasure Songs
1.Since U Been Gone-Kelly Clarkson
2.This Time Around-Hanson
3.Toxic-Britney Spears
4.Breakfast at Tiffany's-Deep Blue Something
5.Tempted by the Fruit of Another-Squeeze

My Top Five Favorite Songs, 2000-2001
1.London Calling-The Clash
2.Anachy in the UK- The Sex Pistols
3.Chick Magnet-MxPx
4.Great American Sharpshooter-Less Than Jake
5.My Evil Plan to Save the World-Five Iron Frenzy

(No, seriously.)

So-your lists, please! These things interest me.

Good Old Ben

In a word: awesome

Video here, thanks to Daily Kos.

Thredless-an update

REPRINT!!

I would also accept this.

One more.

Enough has been said already.

Do-doo doo-do doo-POLAMALU

As much as I had sports casters, I'm sitting here reading every. single. thing. about the Broncos/Steelers game on Sunday on espn. com, while watching Sports Center.


My stomach is going to be in a constant state of knots from now until the game is over on Sunday.

Also-ESPN's Daily Quickie Top 5 QBs left in the NFL playoffs

1. Jake Delhomme
2. Ben Roethlisberger (would be first on the list if tackling mattered)
3. Matt Hassleback
4. Antwann Randle-El
5. Jake Plummer

I might have Hassleback and Delhomme backwards...they've changed it since I read it this morning. The important thing is that Randle-El is on the list before Jake the Snake.

Rock on, ESPN.

Dear Ben Roethlisberger-

While I appreciate your improved play in the playoffs, I do not appreciate your chinstrap beard. Gah, it's hideous. If we make it to the big show, can you please shave it? Pretty, pretty please? I just cannot look at the horrible thing any more. At least you don't have a neckbeard. And don't grow one.

Love, Sarah

Get it

The song on this is annoying, but it's a sweet highlight reel from the game. The montage of "He missed it" shots is the best.

Joey Porter: trying to be the next Greg Lloyd

The NFL said the referee made a mistake: Troy Polamalu caught the ball.
After the game, Pittsburgh linebacker Joey Porter said of the ruling: "I know they wanted Indy to win this game; the whole world loves Peyton Manning. But come on, man, don't take the game away from us like that."
NFL spokesman Greg Aiello had no comment on Porter's statement.
In the past, players who have made such statements have been subject to fines.

Thanks Joey, for saying what we were all thinking and what is probably true. Also-if he doesn't get fined, I will laugh my ass off...because it means he was right.

The two most beautiful words in the English language: Wide right.

Yesterday, the Pittsburgh Steelers torn out my heart and my guts and left them splattered all over a dorm room floor somewhere in Mid-Michigan. They left me shaken, shocked, nervous and absolutely, purely elated. For what seems like the millionth time in the 20 years that I've been a Steeler fan, they're going to the AFC championship game.

The first chance at missed glory I can recall came on my father's 39th birthday, in 1995 against the San Diego Chargers. After the slaughter, my family and I sad in a dark, sad restaraunt, haunted with waitresses in their black and gold, sporting faces of false happiness. The bar was deserted, an air of hopelessness and doom hung somewhere just above our heads and just below the haze of cigarette smoke. I was nine.

That year, I watched the 49ers descimate the Chargers. I saw Montana and Rice in the confetti and flashbulbs. I saw some hulking linebacker holding his daughter screaming "We're going to Disney World!" That's the first time I really grasped what it means to win a Superbowl.

The Pittsburgh Steelers have four SuperBowl rings. The last came in 1980, almost seven years before I was born.

The next year, 1996, the year of Superbowl 40 was the year I learned at some base level about what it meant to be a Steeler fan. I come from a family of wildly temperamental sports fans, led by my father, who will storm out out of a room, take a walk, drive his John Deere around the backyard in the middle of the night (That one happened when the Pirates dropped game seven of the NL championship against the Braves in '92. He'll still curse the name of Sid Bream vehemently to this day. He was OUT, goddammit.) My mother is a relatively calm fan during the regular season, but come playoff time, she is that rabid Pittsburgh woman, screaming, wearing her black and gold Mardi Gras beads, clutching the rosary of her Terrible Towel to her chest.

She was born and bred in Pittsburgh, a product of the city and the school system, and everything I learned about being a part of the Steeler Nation came from her side of the family. When I was 10, I learned what it was to twist a towel through 4th and inches, to curse inept safties who blew their coverage, to scream and howl through close, close, close final minutes of a fourth quarter.

I remember that year's championship game against the Colts probably more vividly than anything from my early childhood. We were celebrating my father's 40th on the day of the game. The fourth quarter lasted an eternity. Gregg Lloyd, the aggressive, jacked linebacking machine that he was, praying atop a Terrible Towel on the sidelines When that final Hail Mary was launched through the air, I went through 30 seconds of blind terror before it was swatted to the ground in the endzone.

And then...Cowher was hoisting that AFC Championship trophy in the air, the iron jaw gone, all smiles. He'd finally gotten there.

In the promised land of Tempe, the Dallas Cowboys sauntered out of their little tunnel onto the field with a swagger and cool confidence that boiled my little-girl blood.Remember, these were the mid-90s Cowboys, the Aikman-Irvin, Jimmy Johnson Cowboys, the embodiment of pure evil and purebred football perfection. The Steelers, on the other hand, charged down that white vault, bouncing off its sides like pinballs, slamming helments, bashing shoulder pads. That forever defined my vision of the Steelers — passion, heart, cohones . No star power, not a well oiled machine of marketing and slick proccessed image, not Michael Irvin in his thousand dollar suits, not the most massive offensive line ever put together. Just Neil, some crazy kid we liked to call "Slash" and a running back named Bam and several of the most fierce linebackers 90s football ever saw. (Really, Lloyd was pure defensive poetry in motion. Forget Chuck Norris jokes. Greg Lloyd's tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.)

Three times that night, Neil O'Donnell broke my heart in the waning Arizona sun. Despite Cowher's onside kick brilliance, despite everything my Steelers did to unseat those unholy Texan monsters, when your QB throws three ridiculous interceptions, directly to the same safety, there's no amount of heart that can get you out of the hole he's dug. I didn't know what had just happened. That was my first introduction to blinding disappointment.

I learned the Steeler fan's mantra: There's always next year.

For the past ten years, I've learned. I learned about the glory days, the rings, the Immaculate Reception. I learned about the game, about our weak secondary and indominatable line. I learned to be able to curse and swear at the screen, through years of Kordell, through the loss to the Broncos in '97, through the rebuilding years, to the 2000 and 2001 seasons when the God awful New England Patriots came to my town and again, boiled my blood-this time not with their arrogant confidence, but with their terrible luck and the leg of the world's most clutch fieldgoal kicker. See also-2005.

But yesterday, on my father's 50th birthday, far from the Steeler faithful, the black and gold marched in the hated and reverred RCA Dome and stumbled out with a win. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just a win. A shot at a continued season. Something to bring me another week of Steeler football. And really, I can't ask for anything more from the team who's brought me so much elation and so much misery for the past eleven years.

I heard that when it looked like it was over-when Harper was streaking towards the endzone, my 13 and 16-year-old brothers both stormed out of the room. They never even saw Big Ben stretch and grab with infinite hope for his season, hinged on the ankle of a DB who'd been stabbed in the leg 24 hours prior.

The cycle goes on. Someday, my brothers will drive tractors in their backyards after the much maligned city that made them has let them down. I will dress my children in black and gold and take them to Heinz Field and I'll take them to the statue of Jerome Bettis outside and say "Mommy was here the day this man stopped play because the crowd was chanting his name. The thought of his leaving the city brought some 65,000 people to their feet." I'll teach them about the glory days and how to spot a blitz and how to be able to understand the game that I love so much.

I don't know if that was Jerome's last game. I don't know if the black and gold will make it to a city, much like the one they came from, that's only an hour away from where I now live my life. What I do know is that yesterday, they played a game that will go down in history books and highlight reels.

When this week is over, when all the talking heads and athletic pundits have finished running their mouths, there will be just one thing. Two things actually-a winner and a loser. Someone going to Detroit and someone who's not.

Regardless of who is who, I do know one thing. Pittsburgh will still ring and will always ring with one of the greatest sounds that can errupt from a crowd of people.

"Here we go Steelers, here we go..."

YOY AND DOUBLE YOY.

Hoge always picks the Stillers

Things are looking up.

Either happiness or bitter disappointment after the game. Stay tuned.

Despite their best efforts to give me a coronary, the Stillers emerged triumphant. And I give all the credit to this man, the man, Bill Cowher.

Mile High? All I have to say about that: Jake Plummer v. Peyton Manning. The Colts gave us a good, solid run for our money. I have nothing but respect for them as a football team.

One final question: If this was supposed to be Indy's year...whose year is it now?

Threadless , Pt. 2

Ugh, someone buy this for meeeee

WHAT THE FUCK

Cy, short for Cyclops is a kitten born with one eye and no nose (AP photo.) I'm going to have nightmares about this. Seriously. What the hell. That thing is straight from Satan.

Aw. I just found out it died after only living a day. That's kind of sad. But still...::shudder::

We dey, we dey, we dey who think they gon' beat them Bungles.

Dear Cincinnatti Bengals Fans, The "Who Dey?" chant was annoying the first time around and its resurgence only reiterates the fact that it's been forever since you actually had a decent team. To answer your question, the PittsburghmotherfuckingSteelers. Bengals, please. As I said after the first meeting of the season between the Bungles and my Stillers, the AFC North is Pittsburgh Stiller territory. You were only renting your time here...We'll take back what's ours now. Love, Sarah.

::Ahem::

Let it be known, that tonight, December 17, 2005, we deviated from our standard path.

And it was good. Oh so good.

My baby takes the morning train..

...And, they're off.

The final countdown...(ish)

Previously...

I drank a lot of coffee, read a lot about psych and waited for hours for a listen booth in the library. We learned that I can't work a tape player and that Big Ten Burrito delivers! (My prayers, answered! Mexican cuisine delivered!) I also ate some nachos. (I figured that since I've already blogged for tweleve hours, I'd start a new entry. Less scrolling for you. Your fingers will thank me.)

12:30 a.m. - I was just really thirsty, so I had another Red Bull. That leaves one for prime mental alertness right before my test tomorrow. Also-Dear Hot Russian TA, So, since I e-mailed you numerous hours ago, I facebooked your name to find your screen name and see what you were up to that was more important than answering my psych questions. I couldn't help but notice that you were in a relationship. Upon looking in your pictures for evidence of this girl, I find she is very attractive. However I cannot believe you took this character to Bonnaroo instead of me. I mean, really. It's only my dream. But it's okay. I know now that we can never be. Sincerly, Sarah. (finally-Hot Russian TA, if you ever Google your name and happen upon this blog, I swear to you, I'm not creepy. I just appreciate all your help during review sessions and am extremely mezmerized by your well crafted sideburns.)

1:30 a.m.- All of a sudden I don't feel very well. Caffeine crash? Most likely. Um, I might be going to sleep now, but expect me again early (later?) in the morning. Also-Josh Mintus, I hate you, answer your damn phone, you whore.

2:46 a.m. I can't sleep. This is me paying for all that caffeine. Josh finally answered his phone. I made a new facebook photo album and left a bunch of annoying comments for other people. Yesssss internet insomnia. Also, the History Channel is showing Modern Marvels: Building Materials tonight. So far, I've watched quarries, concrete and currently, bricks. THRILLING.

3:23 a.m. - So, now I'm watching something on the Discovery Channel about Egypt andhow they built monuments. And boats. I'm starting to finally fall asleep, thank god.

7:12 a.m. Annnnnnnnd I'm up. I feel absolutely terrible. Considering the amount of caffeine I had yesterday and the small amount of food I ate (an English muffin and those nachos at like, 1130) it's really not a big surprise. I think I'm going to go to the caf and just drink a ton of liquids (No caffeine). That should make me feel better.

8:29 a.m. I haven't moved from my bed since my last update. I really am getting up to go get something in me that's not full of caffeine. Talked to Joshua, told him about my dad, etc. Really, that's it. Found a HORRIBLE picture of me from Friday night. Oh, it's on facebook. Check that out.

9:26 a.m. -Feeling a little better. Well enough to get back to studying. Daddy's in surgery right now. :/

10:34 a.m. - Fitter. Happier. Sleeping well. No bad dreams. No paranoia. Love, but not in love. No longer empty and frantic. Like a cat. Fitter. Healthier. And more productive. In a cage. In a cage.

I'm starting to crash out < 3 hours of sleep is getting to me. Also, something decidedly reeks in my room. I really need to do laundry/take out the trash/run the vaccum. Someone knocked over the can they were using as an ashtray last night, so there's a big pile of ashes on my floor. My love affair with Anatol is off. He didn't answer my e-mail. Dead to me.

11:34 a.m. - Well, I have now blogged for 24 hours (minus the few I took off to sleep.) I feel prepared. I feel ready. But, my body feels like it's been put through the ringer. I'm going to go take this final, then pass out for forever. Then wake up and clean and pack all night. Yeehaw. Also, I really don't appreciate how hard it's freaking snowing right now. Good thing my finall is across the street.

When is the mountain scaled? When do I feel I haven't failed?

I recommend downloading "It Hasn't Happened Yet" by William Shatner. I know,but TRUST ME HERE.

Caffeine consumed: 1 cup Irish Creme (had to start out slow)
1 cup aforementioned motor oil/crack combo
24 oz. cup homemade Folger's
3 Sugar-free Red Bulls
32 oz. Sparty's coffee.
1 cup Irish Creme ( I had to have SOMETHING it was so EARLY)

Soundtrack of madness: Teardrop-Massive Attack
Hi-Speed Soul-Nada Surf
Benoit Dutras- Cirque Du Soleil:Qudiam (written by Brian Eno and David Byrne)
It Hasn't Happened Yet-William Shatner
Quidam-Cirque Du Soleil:Quidam
I Know You Are, But What Am I?-Mogwai
Protection-Massive Attack
Steel Dreams- Cirque Du Soleil: Quidam
Schizophrenia-Dr. Bertram Karon
Bacardi-Nada Surf
Crush-Jimmy Eat World
Us-Regina Spector
My Baby Takes the Morning Train-Sheena Easton
Don't Lose Touch-Against Me!
Lost in the Wilderness-Children of Eden

The final countdown...

...Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Stimulants

So. Basically, there are 25 hours standing between me and my last final, the conclusion of this semester. This is the final push. I am going to blog once an hour, every hour, between now and then. Really, this is for my own amusement and nothing else. However, I'll keep each update in this entry, for convienience. (I have no idea how to spell that word.) I had a plan to start the day, but it's already gone off track, because I spent extra time in the cafe this morning drinking coffee and reading psych. But that will take time off the reading I planned to do later, so it all works out. Also, as an added bonus, at the bottom of the entry, I'll keep a running tab of how many cups of coffee/cans of energy drink I've consumed for the day and the soundtrack for utter madness. (Mom, you might want to stop reading here.)

11:07 a.m.- So, I just got out of the shower, my first in...let's not talk about it. Next on my agenda is selling my books back at SBS and going to 7-11 (for red bull and stuff to make cookies), but going out into the sub zero temperatures with wet hair is asking for it. So, I'll clean up until I dry. I'm currently brewing more coffee, but I have this to say: MSU's "Super Strength Double Brew" (which reminds me of super-secret double probation) is literally, a combination of motor oil and crack. It's thick, strong, dark and chock full o' caffeine.

12:10 p.m.- Esspresso Royale coffee>my coffee > The cafe's coffee. I have so much laundry. And so much trash. And I've never appreciated living so close to Grand River before. Off to SBS and 7-11! (I'm going to make cookies as a Merry Christmas/Happy End of the Semester/ CHILL OUT Here's a Cookie! present for my friends. Provided I get enough $$ from selling back my books to cover supplies and a 4 pack of sugar free Red Bull) Finally-My "Ambistudy" playlist owns you.

1:16 p.m.- Good news: I got $71.25 in exchange for my books. Add to that the one psych book I'll be able to sell tomorrow, and I'll have enough to by Christmas presents. Bad news: I can't sell back my most expensive book ( The Essential Cosmic Perspective ) because I have an instructor's edition. Maybe I will sell it to Nicole, I think she's taking that class next year. Further bad news: My quest for ready made cookie dough was foiled. Oh well. If you've been keeping track:I've had five cups of coffee so far. Wired. Next stop: Library AV library to listen to recordings of Bertie Karon's THRILLING lectures.

3:03 p.m. - Just got to the library and just made it under my 1 hour deadline. Wasted some time talking to Josh (Whom I love and adore and miss. And I only say that because I know you're reading sweetheart.) OMG listening to lectures soon. Kill me. No longer so wired, but I just cracked open a can of Red Bull.

4:05 p.m. - Well, all the listening booths were full, so I've spent the past hour reading and taking notes on Models of Madness As Nicole would say, get excited. I'm going to break for coffee, then go check back at the AV library. I'm probably going to be here for a long, long time.

5:21 p.m. Listening booths? Still full. However, I've gotten through almost all of the reading for this exam. Problem is, the AV library closes at 11:30, I could do this reading stuff all night. If I still need to listen tomorrow, I can always come back early and do it before the exam. (This would mean I get to sleep tonight, hurrah!) The snow outside the west entrance here is so full of cigarette butts and empty packs, it's ridiculous. Ordinarily, I'd bitch about people being too lazy to use the ash trays, but they are all full. For those of you keeping track at home, I'm up to 9 cups of coffee and 1 Red Bull. EDIT: BAH. I'm pretty sure I got a 3.0 in my ISP class. My prof still has to adjust our clicker points for the days we were allowed to miss. If I had gotten 2 more questions right on the final, I would have had a 3.5. I'm literally like 1.5% off from a 3.5. Maybe I figured my grade out wrong. We'll see.

6:26 p.m. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have listening booth. If I can't get everything that I need in the next 5 hours, fuck it. That's all. Dammit, I WILL 4.0 this exam and this class.

7:16 p.m. I have no idea how to work a tape player. Also, these tapes are totally fucked up and really not all that useful. Well, the first one was, the last couple have been duds. And this is why I missed so many lectures in this class-It's hit or miss on whether or not there's going to be any useful information. My caffeine buzz is totally gone, but I only brought 1 Red Bull and I'm not buying another coffee. Essentially, the next time I update I might be home. I might be here. WHO KNOWS.

8:16 p.m. And, I'm back. Five and a half hours at the library is pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. It's absolutely freezing and it also started snowing during my seclusion on the fourth floor. The best part about walking home? See the parking space stalkers at Kresge get all excited because they thought I was going to my car when I cut across the parking lot. Not so! (For those of you who don't go to MSU-Kresge is the museum right across the street from the library. The library proper has no real parking, so people camp out in the close parking lots waiting for people to leave.) I sent an e-mail to Hot Russian TA Anatol Tolchinsky, so he can answer my remaining psych questions. One of the reasons I'm studying so intensely for this exam is that there was no review session this time. The past two exams, Anatol (who loves me) has held a review and answered all the things I wasn't in class for/didn't read. Can number 2 of Red Bull, and time to engage in a little relaxation-either with Jenny and Steve, or alone.

9:44 p.m. - Hangin' out with Steve, Jenny, Spence and Ross. Very caffinated. and COLD. I keep my room at freezing temperatures because I am always hot, but right now I am freezing and I can't turn my heater up too much, because it makes SCARY noises and freaks me out.

10:25 p.m.- I'm ordering Big Ten Burrito. My dad is getting a biopsy of his lymph nodes tomorrow. Yikes.

11:48 p.m.- I love it when Josh Droog gets drunk and makes facebook groups. The heat in my room is turned the whole way up, and it's still freezing. Dear Hot Russian TA, please answer my questions, or our love affair is off. Love, Sarah. Also-Big Ten Burrito was the best idea I ever had.

Coffee consumed: 1 cup Irish Creme (had to start out slow)
1 cup aforementioned motor oil/crack combo
24 oz. cup homemade Folger's
2 Sugar-free Red Bulls
32 oz. Sparty's coffee.

Soundtrack of madness: Teardrop-Massive Attack
Hi-Speed Soul-Nada Surf
Benoit Dutras- Cirque Du Soleil:Qudiam (written by Brian Eno and David Byrne)
It Hasn't Happened Yet-William Shatner
Quidam-Cirque Du Soleil:Quidam
I Know You Are, But What Am I?-Mogwai
Protection-Massive Attack
Steel Dreams- Cirque Du Soleil: Quidam
Schizophrenia-Dr. Bertram Karon
Bacardi-Nada Surf

Son of a...

Home sweet home

Good cop, bad cop, it's messed up when stuff like this happens right where you live...

for something like the third or fourth time this year. Oh Pennsylvania. Full of headline news.

Back in the boat

Andy Katz loves the Spartans

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro

That is all.

Some genius brought these things to our campus.

We got muthafuckin' SQUIRRELS

A pine cone shortage may have led the squirrels to seek other food sources, although scientists are sceptical.

"They literally gutted the dog," local journalist Anastasia Trubitsina told Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper.

...There really are no words. Except...KILLER SQUIRRELS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Santa baby...

A few things I would like for Christmas

Moccasins
My So-Called Life on DVD
a Barnes and Noble gift card.

That's all, really.

Oi, Oi, Oi!

Lynard Skynard, Blondie and The Sex Pistols will all be inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame this year.

Wonder if they'll induct Glen Matlock-I can't see why not. He's the one who actually played on Nevermind the Bollocks The fact that the article refers to Blondie as a "1980s New Wave band" ticks me off. Yeah, they're New Wave pioneers, but they were instrumental in the '70s scene, just as much as The Talking Heads, etc.

Oi-none of you have any clue what I'm talking about. Right-/end my 70s underground scene nerdiness.

When the colors go out of my eyes, it's usually the change

I had the best break. It involved Rent , lots of Josh Mintus, Ryan Ambrose and Samantha Pike and food, family, insanity, driving back roads, freezing my ass off...in short, everything I love about being home.

...There really are no words.

Damn, Sam I love a woman that rains

Peace. love. Genocide.

While I love Thanksgiving as an excuse to not go to school, to come home, to see my family and friends, let's not forget what this day is really about.

Removal of native cultures.
Manifest destiny
and rampant consumerism.

God bless America.

Bands that need to die

That's right-the band who brought you "cut my wrists and black my eyes, so I can fall asleep tonight" — Hawthorne Heights — is again busting out the lyrics found on myspace profiles everywhere.

"I'm outside of your window with my radio, so I can see you breathing."

The song is called "Niki FM"

GOD. What a horrible title for a song. What horrible lyrics. What a horrible band. In all their vaguely indie, moon-faced, shaggy haired glory. Hawthorne Heights-furthering the revolution of indie into the new preppy one terrible, terrible cliche song at a time.

Darwin Award Candidate

How long before they make this into an anti-smoking add?

Dear sweet mericiful Jesus

People from Pennsylvania done lost their damn minds

I am from probably the second craziest state in the union, after Flordia. First the woman who tried to cut another woman's unborn baby from her uterus and now this.

At least this nonsense took place out in Amish country. No one really takes responsibility for those fools.

oh, and...MYSPACES!

Kara Beth-jailbait chick

David-her crazy boyfriend

I am such a good internet sleuth.

Don't call it a comeback

So Fucking Metal

Sorry guys, witty commentary has fallen to the bottom of a list of responsibilites that includes applying for internships, studying, writing papers, hanging out, partying, fixing friendships, flirting, being unrequited and sleeping.

More blogging when I regain my perspective and don't feel so jaded about the general state of the world.

a.k.a. Probably not until I'm home for Christmas, because right now I'm just focused on getting to the end of the semester.

I want to go to Bonnaroo this summer.

Really, really badly.

Who's in?