I find it unsettling to see people partying and shouting, “America is number one!” in reaction to Osama bin Laden’s death. Not that I sympathize with the man, but it’s just not what I would feel if, say, Curt were murdered and his murderer were being put to death. I might feel satisfaction, I might still feel rage, but I don’t know if I would feel joy. It seems an inapt emotional reaction; unhinged, like.
Dear San Diego Zoo and sundry,
You are great, etc., etc., but let me get to the good part: what is Swahili for “pretentious”?
I only ask because it seems to me that many of your baby animals are given the burden of some, shall we say, very “lofty” names to live up to. I am sure that if we were to catalog said animal names in your establishments and translate them into English, “peace”, “love”, “courage”, or “walks in beauty like the night” would have ample representation.
Do you not think this is slightly daunting prospect for baby animals who would spend most of their lives – let’s be honest – rooting around in the dirt?
Imagine the outrage, if you will, of having to stand outside of that hippo enclosure and look into that baby hippo’s sorrowful eyes and whisper, “I am sorry that your keepers are so silly, little hippo. I would have named you Bob.”
Upset,
Etc.
Today, I was introduced to the concept of “Snooki”. I pronounced her wrong. I would have spelled her wrong, had it not been for Yahoo’s handy-dandy “TRENDING NOW” list. Somehow, with all the madness going on in the world right now, Snooki comes in at number THREE on that list, behind Alyssa Milano (having a baby) and Eminem (didn’t read it, but imagine he’s…old? sober? retiring again? has had a thought?). Mrr.
We’re going to Washington DC in a couple months. Curt wrote an angry (but respectful) letter to our congressman about the lack of support for Libyan democracy in the same two-week period in which I sent a request to him about touring the White House. I expect to not get to tour the White House (they take your name and vitals, you know).
I bought a small bird feeder, and have attracted house finches to our crape myrtle tree. They have also found the enormous bird feeder which sits next to my window. I can hear them singing at night (right now, as a matter of fact). There is also an owl hereabouts. Thus, my room has become a vampire peep show for cats.
I am enjoying the new rendition of Emma immensely. It is probably my most favorite Austen film to date. I watch it in fits and starts, because I don’t want it to end.
Everything is okay here. Time for bed.
We went to the air museum today. Curt geeked out on planes. :)
I also got a new phone, and I’m divorcing my iPod Touch.
To me, the graphical interface and flexibility of Android is far superior. The apps are better, I can do multiple things at once, the battery is awesome and OMFG, I can turn off the stupid auto-flip feature!
The one gripe I have (so far) is the email client doesn’t wrap content so I have to scroll horizontally to view stuff. Other than that, and despite my recently-established dislike for Chrome, I’d say Google and LG FTW!
(I’m blogging this from my new phone; something I never got to work on my iPod.)
“I for one welcome our new computer overlords.” Ken Jennings FTW!
Watson will be useful in some capacity, although some questions (Tuesday night’s, especially) were clearly shilling for Watson’s uber-Google capabilities.
They say that during times of economic unrest, stories of mass destruction come into vogue. The almighty do-over. Lately, I really wonder whether it would be such a bad thing to see the world re-made. My preference would be zombie apocalypse, of course: my obsessive emergency-kit-making vindicated, at last!
Of course, there are drawbacks: in my restless daydreams, the day before the apocalypse arrives, I win the lottery. :P
Until Monday, there is a dark, voiding cloud over part of this city; until Monday, the world I inhabit does not include whatever that cloud masks. My eyes are getting heavy, but I’m reluctant to go to sleep because the very seconds are precious here, where there is not.
I’m going to be 32 this year. I always think of 32 as being Jesus-aged. What ill or good does that forbode? Is it blasphemous to use Jesus’ age as a Magic 8 Ball (yes). Is blasphemy something someone who doesn’t believe can do, or is it exclusively the province of those who don’t believe?
Hello, little blog. Have I forsaken you for a house?
I love our house – haven after unfullfilling days, patient palette for my mad decorating schemes, ultimate cubby hole for my magical stuffs, and resting place of my sweet jackass husband. Be it ever so humble, and all that.
I have a new ukelele! It is unlike any ukelele that I have ever had, in that it is real. I plan on headlining at the Met with my new opera entitled Der Zaubukelele in which there will be giant birds, a snake, and all manner of ridiculous tomfoolery. My fame awaits!
I recently discovered Plants vs. Zombies. About time the “cute zombie” niche was filled.
I have also decided it would be just tops if I could have a kick-ass robot suit, a la Bubblegum Crisis. It would be better than being able to fly, because then I could kick ass. The older I get, the more I find value in the idea of kicking ass.
It appears as though I will fail most spectacularly (and if you must fail, that’s the only way to go) at my ambitious reading plan for 2010, although there is always next year. As mortality threatens, so must the reading list be devoured more devoursomely!
Off to the vicinity of bed, to read and sleep, perchance to dream of Robson Green…
Didius Rex says, “RAWR PICTURES SATURDAY RAWR!!” ;)