Friday, August 14, 2009


1) And with yet another pointless Larry King quote as title--this one a typical over-the-top blurb for a deeply uninteresting movie (Larry was waxing rhapsodic over You, Me And Dupree, in case you're interested)--we see the return of everyone's favorite placeholder, the Random Thoughts post. Or, to put it more accurately, Things I Wanted To Mention But Didn't Feel Like Actually Researching And Writing About In Detail. But that doesn't sound as snappy, does it?

2) The supposedly liberal press that Republicans so endlessly decry only briefly mentioned the revelation that former Bush administration scumwad Karl Rove was indeed one of the driving forces behind the firing of nine U.S. attorneys whose politics didn't square with the Bushinista's views of the world. All along, Rove has denied involvement; other former Bush/Cheney lickspittles like Harriet Miers and Alberto Gonzales also proclaimed Rove's innocence. That they were all lying--sometimes under oath--should, in any fair world, lead to federal perjury charges.

Instead, Rove gets hired to do a cameo on Family Guy. In the immortal words of El Brendel, it's a vacky vorld.

3. Speaking of evil machinations cooked up by insane Hollywood types, word is Blair Witch Project directors Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez are contemplating a sequel. In other words, the creators of a well-known but widely-reviled movie that was notable more for its marketing than its content have done nothing of consequence in the last ten years, and are desperately making a quick grab for some easy green. Way to keep following your muse, guys.

4) This week's latest adventures in rib displacement led to a prescription to Soma, the U.S. brand name for carisoprodol. According to Wikipedia--which, of course, is never wrong--carisoprodol is similar to (but in a different family than) hydrocodone, which was the dangerously unstable drug I was prescribed last time I was in excrutiating pain. Apparently, carisoprodol has been taken off the market in Sweden because it easily leads to addiction and abuse, and though my Swedish heritage usually leads me to assume anything the emotionally distant, sex-crazed inhabitants of my forefather's homeland decide is for the best, I've got to say, this stuff hasn't been making me bounce off the walls the way hydrocodone did.

Of course, I've had unusually vivid dreams lately. But hey, who hasn't sat bolt upright in bed, covered in cold sweat, after dreaming of receiving a severe beating from Bill Cosby?

5) What's the only thing sweeter than yet another Yankees win? Knowing that the Red Sox lost! Not to gloat too much: Though they seem to be a mighty, unstoppable force, much as God intended, it's almost time for the Yankees' inevitable late-season period of suckage to kick in. Sure, they'll make the play-offs--and without resorting to any wild card shenanigans like those dicks up in Boston--but will they make it to the Series? And how will the Steinbrenner clan gouge the fans if they do?

6) Beloved kitty Monika was flopped in front of the door yesterday, on her back with her feet sticking straight up in the air, looking for all the world as if she'd found a quiet spot to expire. I was alarmed, and ran over to make sure she was okay. She seemed confused by my attention, and responded by following me around for the rest of the day, always watching me, always at my feet. It was weird, and seemed to suggest Monika has neurotic tendencies I'd never previously suspected.

Still, she has a long way to go before becoming a full-fledged Psychokitty. That's Delmar's job, and he performs it quite well, thank you very much.

7) While assembling yesterday's piece on Les Paul, I did a YouTube search for How High The Moon, and while Paul and Mary Ford's version was the first one that popped up, there were also covers from Ella Fitzgerald, Tony Bennett, Diane Reeves and many, many other people blessed with voices that don't make me want to stick my head in an oven.

And there was a version from Toni Tennille.

Naturally, I felt the urge to post that here. After all, that could be as awful as any Lynda Carter clip! But honestly, even I couldn't bring myself to sit through it...and I paid money to see Glitter. There's a fine line between laughable, unintended camp and sheer, unbearable pain, and I think we can all agree, Toni Tennille crossed it long ago.

This clip, though, is on the right side of that line--Joey Heatherton singin' and dancin' her heart out, accompanied by two useless tambourine-wielding appendages having what Crow T. Robot once referred to as a mince-off. Enjoy! Or whatever!