NewscomaGot A Two-Pack Habit And A Motel Tan

You can make one for you too.

I love SisterSalad but I’m scared of them.

This is more than fun. And I’m guilty of apostrophes and your and you’re, their and there.
I bow to them.

Elvis, you ruled. It still freaks me out that he would have been six years older than my dad.

I want a big, sparkly white pantsuit.

From My Confined Space

For obvious reasons, I have to honor Ralph Stanley again who I really love. Here he plays the banjo clawhammer style with his buddy, Doc Watson, at Merlefest.

Yes, that’s what it’s called.

A Chinese herbal remedy called horny goat weed is a promising alternative to Viagra for impotent men, Italian researchers said on Monday.

The herb has long held a reputation as a natural aphrodisiac. The lab experiments, which did not look at whether the plant actually increases desire, could lead to new drugs to help men get erections, said Mario Dell’Agli, a researcher at the University of Milan, who led the study.

My question is simple. Why is it called horny goat weed? Am I missing something here?

I have decided long ago that Viagra is the devil. However, I might be convinced about Horny Goat Weed.

First of all, Britney Spears did indeed suck on Sunday night.

But can we not just leave the chick alone about being out of shape and what not.?She looked pretty good although her fashion choice had a bit to be desired. You know, it’s her job to entertain, and she failed. And that’s that. I have crappy days at work too. (Man, I can’t believe I’m defending Britney Spears. Someone get me a sedative. Stat!)

A lot happened in the world yesterday. I mean, I know watching her has turned into a national pastime and some sort of guilty pleasure, but, in all, she’s a pop singer who is obviously an emotional trainwreck.

I’m thinking today, of all days, we have other things to talk about.

Like the fact that this picture is not how I remember Osama Bin Laden. His beard IS all wrong. Do they have Just For Men hair dye in caves.

Just saying.

(Finally, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Sorry William.) 

Man, I wasted so much time reading this post last night. I love a good mystery, and even if this is all a bunch of bunk, I had a good time messing with it. Here’s the story:

Over the next two years, Timmy worked steadily as a woman and kept getting better and better roles. He was very rarely the lead, but in memorable role he was cast as the lead opposite a very closeted A list at the time actor who also remained single for his entire life. The two began a relationship which was always kept quiet but lasted for many years.
Shortly after Timmy was cast as the lead, he was cast in another role which is the subject of the blind. Timmy was incredible in this role and whether his acting was as a result of his new found love or as a result of just the right part at the right time, Hollywood took notice and so did the critics. During award season, Timmy began winning regularly for his role. I want to make it perfectly clear that none of these organizations knew Timmy was actually a man when they were honoring him with awards as an actress.

There were 350 comments last time I looked and people are trying to figure it all out. Is it true? Is it BS?

Who knows, but makes me wonder.

Rose Royce. I have a new camera and was playing around with the settings. I like that the new Kodak can shoot b/w.

Here’s another from the Tennessee Soybean Festival:

And, then Micky Dolenz:

Have I ever told you I love new gadgets? This new camera makes me feel all saucy.

Let us just say that in an uncomfortable and real moment last night, I remembered that The Monkees was on television 40 years ago. Hell, I watched the show in reruns.

It wasn’t nearly as campy as I thought it might be. I like camp. A LOT. Camp is of the good.

Just saying.

I did see a woman cry that sort of melted my heart a bit because she was so excited seeing Mickey Dolenz and I realized that I’ve never done that, which in all honesty, makes me very, very, very proud of myself.

Also, just saying.

Although Rose Royce was awesome.

Hell, I was just a picture hag for the job, you know. I took pictures, wished Chris Wage was with me with his groovy camera, wished Squirrel Queen was with me instead of taking pictures of a football game 60 miles away and had a moment of just wanting to see Hillbilly Casino and drink a cold import.

But, alas, it’s small-town mania.

My age once again betrays me. At least I’m not the only one. 

And, thrice, just saying.

Why this young woman isn’t teaching literature is a surprise to me every day.

Gone with the Wind, one of the most misunderstood pieces of work in all of literature, IS The Wizard of Oz. It’s The Wizard of Oz all grown up and set in the South. The theme is the same. Think about it. Dig deeply. L. Frank Baum’s objective for a largely child-based audience of readers was Margaret Mitchell’s basic goal for her older targeted audience of readers. But before I attempt to prove my point, we’ll go over once again what Gone with the Wind is not or what it’s been confused as being.

The rest of the post delves into the differences about the two pieces of work. (Shh, I’ve never read “Gone with the Wind” although Scout makes me want to read it.)

I did like the Carol Burnett skit with her wearing the curtain rod though. Brilliant.

I didn’t have Internet access for a couple of days, so I picked up a book at the local market just to idle through a bit in my free time.

I read it in a day. Didn’t expect that, campers.

The cover said “The best horror novel of the new century – Stephen King.” I thought I’d give it a whirl. I mean, if Stephen King liked it, it might be worthy.

“The Ruins”, by Scott Smith (the same guy that wrote “A Simple Plan”) is one of those novels I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

Although the novels are completely different, it reminded me a bit of “The Body Snatchers” by Jack Finney. Claustrophobic with a wry, gallows sense of humor, the book was unusual in the fact that they main characters, except for The German, were all extremely shallow and unlikeable.

But, you knew them. You understood the prissy girl, the slut, the control freak and the teacher/jock, they are people in our day to day lives. And it’s written in a style that hinges itself on psychological tension stretched so taut that you find yourself with a fine, almost drowning sense of the wiggums.

And that’s why “The Ruins” works so well. We don’t like the main characters, but, by God, we know them.

Spoilers for all those who go there…

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