I don't get into political posting much. Because, well, ya know. Punditry, except for the barstool intelligentsia of the occassional Patriots football game, just isn't my thing. But this video? It cracks me up. Every time I watch it. 2 folk singers rapping. Lol!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Fall Has Arrived
Its official now. What with my anxious hovering over my tomato plants... hoping the last couple of reddish ones have the opportunity to mature (and get tasty) before frost hits, and the Pats finally convincingly won a game. Okay... Denver's defense stunk. *I think the Denver defense got confused and went to Foxwoods (casino in CT) rather than Foxboro (where the Patriot's stadium is.)* And their quarterback injured his hand on the first play of the game.... but I'll take it. I'm sure all New England Patriots fans will take it. I'll even shut up about QB Cassell for at least a week. He didn't run into anyone this game and that is progress.
Above is a fallish looking shadow shot, taken while walking in Boston Commons.
Above is a fallish looking shadow shot, taken while walking in Boston Commons.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Aww.... poopers.
I totally admit... I like winning. And, I'm getting cranky. I haven't yet been elected Leader of the Free World and Coach Bellichick of the New England Patriots hasn't sought out my sagacious advice. But I'll help him out anyway for the small compensation of a box seat at the Patriots home games next season. (Please, not this season.)
See... the Patriots are flying from San Diego back to New England. This is what they should do. At the airport there will be a lot of confusion... bags and what not. I'm sure the New England Patriots have more than a few large duffle bags full vital equipment... like the cloudy contact lenses Cassell (QB) wears so he won't see open receivers, the "drop easy" oil used on receivers' gloves on the off chance a ball is thrown their way, and a few pair of double left running shoes just in case things actually start moving or they find themselves on the 1 yard line with 4 downs to not convert in.
So somebody... Rodney Harrison might be the guy to do it... says to Cassell (after he's dumped out all the double left running shoes which wasn't too fair as Morris is fantastic and the "drop easy" oil can stay as the Pats receiving corp is still great even with that challenge)... Harrison says "hey buddy." And after the stunned silence lasting 5 minutes during which Cassell's cloudy contact lenses adhere slightly to his wide eyes and he realizes Harrison hasn't wedged a football down his throat, Harrison tells him how Brady thinks a lot about stuff. Harrison tells Cassell that if he wants to morph into a Super Bowl MVP he should climb into this small dark space... that that will help him think and Cassell will emerge truly Brady-esque complete with cleft chin and modeling contract. And Cassell climbs in quickly partially due to his cloudy contact lenses and wanting to get out of Bellichick and Harrison's sight and an enhanced desire to do anything that would help.
Harrison should then quickly switch tags on the now full duffle bag for a piece of luggage going to Timbucktoo. Nah. Send him to the Jets. Farve will either not notice Cassell lurking in his locker or might even offer him a beer. Or the Caribbean. Cassell seems like an okay guy but I'll leave his destination up to Harrison with the request to please be nice.
Brilliant, huh? I'll even wear a funny hat in my box seat next season.
See... the Patriots are flying from San Diego back to New England. This is what they should do. At the airport there will be a lot of confusion... bags and what not. I'm sure the New England Patriots have more than a few large duffle bags full vital equipment... like the cloudy contact lenses Cassell (QB) wears so he won't see open receivers, the "drop easy" oil used on receivers' gloves on the off chance a ball is thrown their way, and a few pair of double left running shoes just in case things actually start moving or they find themselves on the 1 yard line with 4 downs to not convert in.
So somebody... Rodney Harrison might be the guy to do it... says to Cassell (after he's dumped out all the double left running shoes which wasn't too fair as Morris is fantastic and the "drop easy" oil can stay as the Pats receiving corp is still great even with that challenge)... Harrison says "hey buddy." And after the stunned silence lasting 5 minutes during which Cassell's cloudy contact lenses adhere slightly to his wide eyes and he realizes Harrison hasn't wedged a football down his throat, Harrison tells him how Brady thinks a lot about stuff. Harrison tells Cassell that if he wants to morph into a Super Bowl MVP he should climb into this small dark space... that that will help him think and Cassell will emerge truly Brady-esque complete with cleft chin and modeling contract. And Cassell climbs in quickly partially due to his cloudy contact lenses and wanting to get out of Bellichick and Harrison's sight and an enhanced desire to do anything that would help.
Harrison should then quickly switch tags on the now full duffle bag for a piece of luggage going to Timbucktoo. Nah. Send him to the Jets. Farve will either not notice Cassell lurking in his locker or might even offer him a beer. Or the Caribbean. Cassell seems like an okay guy but I'll leave his destination up to Harrison with the request to please be nice.
Brilliant, huh? I'll even wear a funny hat in my box seat next season.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
On Gray Matter
Or rather, Combatting Brain Fuzz
This morning... afternoon really... but morning so it seemed I made muffins. No it was in the morning. Definitely. But whatever the clock was doing I made muffins off a recipe I've done a few times and after adding the milk (soymilk) looked down and thought jeeze. It was supposed to be 1/2 cup and I added 1 and then saw no, it was 1, and
Brain fuzz. I could blame the condition on school or the economy or the first colorful touches of fall.... I could identify with the worms that don't seem to know where dirt is and end up on pavement. Once you get past the squishy slimy image.... the term "gray matter" for brain works. Having gone back to school, I've been thinking about thinking a lot lately. Contemplating tree growth is one thing, answering questions on a test is something totally else. And grayness has an ill defined edge... it peters out into the vastness of the surrounding universe like the edge of light in a city night.
And it occurs to me while running for the train yet again, as my modus operandi for life seems to dictate in a vague subconcious hope of exercise motivation I'm sure.... It occurs to me that political elections could be a dream sequence within the 4 minute standard of youtube consumption with the candidates standing by a horse race finish line as the pounding of powerful forces surge by into the fog of a non-delinieated future. Just a thought. Not yet asked for on the slips of print smeared paper that grade abcense of pain as well as visual acuity and mental desperation.
Paper that assigns values to words created within the past 10 to 20 years like figments like "hyperlink" properties count, yanked from its root of ancient greeks in tunics writing core stories whose images linger... like the child holding a prism up to the light, turning it slowly, watching the colors live. Prometheus light...
"In the Myth of Syphysus, Camus ended it with the vision of Syphysus on the coast, watching the sea. He'd defied the gods and traded an eternity of damnation and rolling rocks up hills for one perfect day on the beach. And Camus asked the question - was it worth it?" *quote*
This morning... afternoon really... but morning so it seemed I made muffins. No it was in the morning. Definitely. But whatever the clock was doing I made muffins off a recipe I've done a few times and after adding the milk (soymilk) looked down and thought jeeze. It was supposed to be 1/2 cup and I added 1 and then saw no, it was 1, and
Brain fuzz. I could blame the condition on school or the economy or the first colorful touches of fall.... I could identify with the worms that don't seem to know where dirt is and end up on pavement. Once you get past the squishy slimy image.... the term "gray matter" for brain works. Having gone back to school, I've been thinking about thinking a lot lately. Contemplating tree growth is one thing, answering questions on a test is something totally else. And grayness has an ill defined edge... it peters out into the vastness of the surrounding universe like the edge of light in a city night.
And it occurs to me while running for the train yet again, as my modus operandi for life seems to dictate in a vague subconcious hope of exercise motivation I'm sure.... It occurs to me that political elections could be a dream sequence within the 4 minute standard of youtube consumption with the candidates standing by a horse race finish line as the pounding of powerful forces surge by into the fog of a non-delinieated future. Just a thought. Not yet asked for on the slips of print smeared paper that grade abcense of pain as well as visual acuity and mental desperation.
Paper that assigns values to words created within the past 10 to 20 years like figments like "hyperlink" properties count, yanked from its root of ancient greeks in tunics writing core stories whose images linger... like the child holding a prism up to the light, turning it slowly, watching the colors live. Prometheus light...
"In the Myth of Syphysus, Camus ended it with the vision of Syphysus on the coast, watching the sea. He'd defied the gods and traded an eternity of damnation and rolling rocks up hills for one perfect day on the beach. And Camus asked the question - was it worth it?" *quote*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
