The Klink Family is back in business! We get Talk Backs, Comments, Squeals, Last Calls, If by This.. and Hollas! Woo-hoo!

Not much else to post, except:
*Go to the CoMo Music site to see an interesting discussion in progress. Or, instead of trying to find it on the main page, just click here. If you get lost, just look for the heading about the place I go a lot to get muffins and caffeine. Yup, you got it.
*I am tentatively going to be a cashier at the Walton establishment I mentioned a few posts ago. More updates on that later.

And I now will leave you all with another moment of zen, this time being a classic passage of rap lyrics:

"Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect him
Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum"
-KRS One, "MCs Act Like They Don't Know"

I hung out with a certain university PR guy named Joe tonight. Yup, that Joe. Ashley was having a dinner party and she knows Joe from her days as a university reporter (which, without coincidence, is how Courtney and I know him, too). They became friends afterward, and well, he was at her apartment tonight. Small world. We mainly talked about movies. He's such a cool dude. I wish all university PR people could be like him.

The Usual Suspects?

Speaking of university PR, a certain member of my family of blog links has recently taken to loosely associating with... the news bureau. I won't identify said individual, but he/she/it identified on his/her/its blog that he/she/it was becoming "one of those slimy PR people." The individual in question works just a hop, skip and jump from this guy. I know, I can't even refer to him by name. I was at Mass today where I saw the dear Amy, and she noted that this guy's wife was mentioned in the back of the hymnal. Supposedly she's a musician of sorts.

In any case, Josh's former roommate (the Old Man) is also sleeping with the enemy, but he is actually employed at the news bureau. This doesn't really add much to any of this, but I had to acknowledge that he/she/it was now working with said individuals, and anyone who knows he/she/it and the Old Man will know just how weird this all is.

Moving on...

Imagine "Bulworth," but with a guy who advocates spanking your child

I was at the Artisan yesterday en route to some interviews and caught the beginning of the live broadcast of 89.5 KOPN's "Kore Issues" show. This show, which supposedly mixes politics and scriptures, was this day focusing on the history of Columbia. The radio host was a black man who had long dreads and was wearing a Bulls jersey. He was accompanied by a white girl who tried to effect a black singing voice and a big fat black woman. As I learned by watching them, they have a set routine at the beginning of the show where they sing the theme song, complete with harmonies and refrains. It was a soulful R&B/hip-hop song that even included some rhymes.

While, joining them onstage throughout all of this was a familiar-looking white man: conservative suit, balding spot on a head with white hair and glasses. He was sort of smiling and just bobbing enough to show that he wasn't completely unaffected by the music. I had to look again. Wait... Was that... On a show about local politics...

It was Henry Lane.

Swaying onstage in a grey suit next to a guy in a Bulls jersey, Henry Lane was reaching out to the black community. He needs to hope that someone will vote for him in 2004.

So I stayed. This was weirder than most things I covered for the Missourian (and of course they had someone out there). This was weirder than most stuff I had seen in films by David Lynch, John Waters or John Singleton. No joke, yo, no joke. I had hoped that they'd get to something intelligent, but alas, they did not.

An example of some of the great dialogue and interview skills:

Commentator #1: Columbia used to be called Smithton. Smithton! Just imagine that for a moment... We was Smithton.
Commentator #2: Smithton!
Commentator #1: Smithton!
A nod from Henry Lane and a look from the commentator, proud of his hard-hitting commentary.
Commentator #1: Now Columbia has gone through a lot of change. I mean, this past week we had our last Twilight Festival for the last time until September. So, you know, Columbia's been through a lot of change.
Henry Lane: You're right, there's definitely been a lot of change. It's definitely not the same place as it was when I was a little boy.
A shake of the head from the commentator, shocked that he got such a great line of dialogue and confession from Henry Lane. He actually got him to admit he had been a little boy. Man, clear off the shelves for the Emmy that's coming.

As much as I liked the idea of watching campy stuff, this was just painful, like a train-wreck. I couldn't stand it any longer. After explaining to Nick and Derrick just how crazy Mr. Lane is, I booked it out and began looking for some interviews of my own.

"If you're so special, then why aren't you dead?"
-The Breeders, "I Just Wanna Get Along"

When looking for those interviews, though, I should have realized that it would be like it always was: like pulling teeth. Oy, I was going to earn a drink and I didn't even know it yet.

I am working on a freelance story on a new business and I wanted to talk to some of the other business owners to get their perspectives on the new competition. One business declined comment, which is understandable albeit frustrating. Another business owner, though, reminded me of this guy in that she handed me a list of pre-written quotes. She then read the quotes to me, which I of course appreciated, because, well, we all know I am too stupid to read them on my own. I'm glad I had her help on those tough words like "unique" and "downtown." Man, wherever she went to school, sign me up for grad school. Tight-ass Tech, here I come!

I guess it's okay, though, it was the first time I had interviewed someone in a while. How easily I had forgotten that telling someone in this town that you're a reporter is as good as saying, "Hi, this is my ass, feel free to blow smoke up it at any time."

I was logging into Blogger just now and took a look at their list of "Ten Most Recently Published Blogs." I found one called Pooing in the Woods. So, of course, I had to check it out. I couldn't determine *exactly* where the blogger was from, though I think Kentucky. What was so funny about said blog was that each link function had a reference to "poo": comments were called "droppings", archives were called "flushed poos," and well, it went on from there. The words "shit," "turds" or "feces" were never used, and some say those might be more graphic or vulgar (though "feces" is the technical term), but there is something about the word "poo." When my nephew was being potty-trained, my sister and brother-in-law had to decide which terms to use with Michael. For some reason, Kerry is terrified of "poo," much more so than "poop." I guess that hard "p" at the end of it takes away from the soft, squishy sound of "poo."

Either way, ewww.

Desperately seeking Lord knows what, pt. 2

Thanks to Dan, I have found this great web statistics tracking service that gives you the 4-1-1 on your site and who visits it, etc. Well, there are some odd folks out there who get to my site by looking for some things that I don't have for them....

Here some examples of things people type into a search engine and then get into my site:
*missouri's swinger's clubs
*bosnian white boys
*pictures of women shitting in public
*aunts tits submission
*Pacey and Joey pics
*el trio de oy
*heidelberg high school breakdancing
*blue boy blog
*blog + antioch + girls
*truckin' sharpies
*dice games c-lo
*office space pictures jump to conclusions mat
*"dwarf tossing" videos
*lyrics to "be happy for our friends"
*"I can" rap song using "fur elise" motif
*"breakdancing" "competition" "video" "white boy"

And then there are a lot of people looking for Jackie and Hilary. Hmmmm....

Moving on...

"Well, how lucky you are then that your job is also your hobby."
-"Blackadder Goes Forth"

"Well, I have a job. The hours are more but the pay is much worse."
-"Cursed"

"As long as he does the job, he can wear what face he likes."
-"Doctor Who"

"I love this job more than I love taffy, and I'm a man who loves his taffy."
Adam West, "Family Guy"

"It's hard to meet single woman on this job. You meet plenty of widows, but the timing just don't seem right."
-"Homicide: Life on the Street"

"I remember when I took a temp job... so I got a job at a department store. Something temporary to put on my resume, my parents said. Yeah... till I die!"
-"The Drew Carey Show"

I begin work at the university bookstore this week, and might be taking night hours at a certain all-purpose mega-mart place named after, oh, Sam Walton. (NOTE: Fiscosity's post about how people can get to our blogs by posting the strangest things, combined with seeing what people type in to get to my blog, well, has me kinda paranoid).

And, I'm also writing freelance stuff for the business paper in town. Woo-hoo! Speaking of which, I might be able to track down the rest of my interviews tonight, so I should go work on that. In any case, though, I thought I'd let you know. Woo woo woo!

Oh, but before I leave, a nugget of info that you might not have otherwise known.

Somewhere... over... the rainbow....

As many of you know, June is Pride Month for the LGBT community, to commemorate the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Oh, the Stonewall Riots in a small dose: police performed a routine raid on a drag bar in New York and the patrons refused to leave. They had just experienced the death of Judy Garland, gay icon, and they were fed up with the police, so they left the bar and then surrounded it, with the cops still in it, and protested. It's seen as the birth of the modern movement, and serves as a partial explanation as to why the rainbow is used as a symbol of pride (Judy Garland sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and as a result of her death, they banded together in pride).

So, any cities who have Pride Festivals or anything like that hold them in June because of the Stonewall Riots in 1969. Columbia's was a few weeks ago and St. Louis is having its Pride Fest this weekend.

So, as crazy as I think certain activists are getting these days, what with taking neutral attributes and assigning positive values to them ("Be proud to be having sex!"), the activists are not sooo crazy, and well, they at least have some good intentions. Ipso ergo facto, this post, a shout-out to my friends who are at Pride Fests and/or have been to them recently. Yo go, girls (and bois).

Well, it's a funny day in the blogging world. Blogger.com was down Tuesday night and just got going again within the last few hours, and the Klink family website is down now, too. You might recall that the Klink family site sponsors bloggers in the form of Holla's, Last Calls, Squeals, Talk Backs, If by this you mean and all those other lovely types of comments.

I understand maintenance problems, and I dare not complain. Of course, I had some great plans for posts in the last 36 hours, and while most of my posts are not time-sensitive...

June 25 was Goodlovin's birthday!

I love my peoples and like to hook up everyone with a little blog love. I was planning on doing a berfday shout-out to the Goodlovin, and maybe doing some dirty posts and what-have-you... But alas, maintenance. Oy.

In any case, whether we could post or not, yesterday was still Goodlovin's birthday... We honor it.

She's now 21, *officially* able to purchase alcohol and what have you. I know, I know, this would be like making news out of Charlie Sheen going to Amsterdam, where it's legal to buy drugs and prostitutes.

Okay, this new version of Blogger is weird to me and making me dizzy. I am still not used to it.

New posts to come very soon, hopefully as soon as the Klink family does the do and fixes their kinks. Ooh, baby.

A few weeks ago, as many of you know, I posted about Anna Nicole Smith being a "slobbering blonde" and how uncomparable she is to any of my friends. Well, both Jackie and Erin then referred to themselves as "slobbering blondes." It then occurred to me to do a point-by-point between each of these lovely blondes and the slobbering star of E! Last week I began my series by comparing Jackie and Anna Nicole. This week, I compare Anna Nicole and Erin. Enjoy.

ERIN WHITE	ANNA NICOLE SMITH
Lives in Tucson, Ariz.	Couldn't spell "Tucson" if she tried
Considers herself from Kentucky	Went to the Kentucky Derby on her show and made an ass of herself, and then said she likes Kentucky's chicken
Resents the negative uses of the word "hoosier"	Embodies every negative use of the word "hoosier"
Likes glitter	Is crazier than whacked-out Mariah Carey, who starred in "Glitter"
Likes boys, glitter and pink clothes, but doesn't think that makes her broadcast	Could probably be the next featured anchor on KOMU provided that Beth M. approved of her make-up scheme
Likes Southern hospitality and manners	Belches on TV and cusses like a sailor
Is very fashionable and sometimes trendy	Consulted Bobby Trendy for interior decorating help before bitch-slapping him on Wilshire Boulevard
Edits copy	Became famous by copying Marilyn Monroe
Doesn't think Reuben is half bad	Could probably go for a reuben (or Reuben) sandwich right about now

Ta da! Let me know what you think. There are more coming in the future... I like comparing people... It's fun. Muhahahahahahahaha!!

This is me giving a well-deserved shout-out to the one and only Fred, the man, the pole, the nail. For those of you not in the know (i.e., those of you with lives), Fred is a news editor for the copy desk at the fair Missourian, but please, don't hold that against him. (In fact, I would discourage holding anything against him, I've not known him to be touchy-feely.)

Fred is a stickler for grammar and effort, but he's funny in his own way. He delights in being a nerd and is not ashamed of it at all. My type of nerd. Being a gangly guy with brown hair and glasses doesn't hurt him. I don't know, but something about gangly people with brown hair and glasses makes me feel more comfortable.

The main reason for this shout-out is to acknowledge that Fred helped me make a copy editing portfolio this past week. Thanks, Fred, you're a real dude.

And now for a dose of Fred humor, straight from the e-mails on the HEADS-UP listserve:

Individuals who need individuals are the luckiest individuals in the world, as Barbra Streisand didn't put it. "People" ("persons" if your paycheck says Kansas City Star on the front) is a perfectly good word. People, after all, are what we write about. "Individual" has a place -- but it's on the order of "individual income tax returns," not "individuals from various political parties have expressed interest" or "The three individuals have voluntarily isolated themselves" (both 1A Tuesday). Think Barbra. Make 'em "people."

Any man that confortably and securely invoke the spirit of Barbra Streisand and not be fearful that we'll question his orientation is quite the dude. I imagaine Barbra would accidentally fall on Fred and crush him if the two were ever to meet, but that's merely speculation.

For all you non-journalism people out there...



This, as you might know, is Phil Collins, former singer and drummer from the 60s-80s band Genesis, for whom Peter Gabriel also sang. I must say, Pete did much better on his own than he did with Genesis, but that's just me. Moving on.

I am posting this picture in tribute of all you readers out there who are not journalism-majors and even for those of you who wouldn't know how to find a paper even if your dorm gave them out for free. Don't worry, I love you anyway, and to show my appreciation, I have posted this journalism-neutral picture of the one and only Phil Collins. I know, I know, I know, it's mighty generous of me, but what can I say? I aim to please. (Will you please aim?)

I was listening to the Mall and upon hearing them play Mr. Collins' "Sudio," I jumped for joy and decided to show you this fab picture. Enjoy.

Back to being a journalism-based jerk

Just kidding! Well, sort of. I had promised Erin that I would compare her to Anna Nicole this week, and I plan on it when I get back to Columbia, and I did also promise her I'd give her more shout-outs and some more junior high stories (I will, too!).

But, before that, I thought I'd give Erin a different kind of shout-out. Behold, just down below here, your moment of zen. Enjoy, and goodnight.

I just heard a radio ad that mentioned "remote control vibrating panties." This is on the station that two minutes earlier eagerly announced "a block from Hootie and the Blowfish... coming up next!"

People used to listen to that shit in junior high (Hootie, not ads about the panties, because we all know those things are timeless). I never really got into Hootie, though I do recall one song that didn't make me want to change the station. For the most part, though, I couldn't hear that band without feeling like a 37-year-old divorcee on her way home from happy hour to feed the cat.

In that era of my life, I preferred Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Green Day and Veruca Salt, among others. They were bastians of safety at my school. There was of course a glut of crap that I did not care for, and that was what sent me into retreat into 80s nostalgia. O, Thomas Dolby, Wang Chung, Katrina and the Waves, where had thou been all my life? I guess we can say those were equally offensive, but not when you're 13, fat and have a bowl-cut. Those bands were good escapes from junior high.

Still, though, the 80s remained a point of joy for me, so you can imagine the excitement I felt when coming home from college first semester freshman year and heard that Extreme 104.1 had changed its format and was no longer playing crap like ICP, Mudvayne, Coal Chamber or any of that shit -- and was now called "The Mall" -- playing the Cure, Prince, Michael Jackson, Madonna, Depeche Mode, the Pixies, the Primitives, the Clash, New Order, INXS and the Psychedelic Furs. All 80s, all the time. I was ready to die, it was that cool.

Now, 2 1/2 years later, I could want to die, as the Mall has changed its format a little, playing "2/3 80s and 1/3 90s." The 90s stuff they play only goes up until 1997, but it's mostly crap: Chumbawumba, Dog's Eye View, Lisa Loeb, Sister Hazel, the Wallflowers, Matchbox 20, Duncan Sheik, Dave, etc. They also play some bands that had some decent stuff: Blues Traveler, Collective Soul and Counting Crows, but rarely play the good stuff and instead go for the singles. And while they do play some Pearl Jam and STP, the stuff the play is the sucky stuff, and they don't play any of the cooler stuff from the 90s, such as Nirvana and Soundgarden, though they do play Cracker, and they do play some Green Day post-"Nimrod." Worst of all, they've stopped playing much Cure, Michael Jackson, Depeche Mode, Pixies, Primitives, New Order, INXS or Furs. And rarely any Clash.

It makes me feel like I'm in junior high again. Except worse, because in this case, the friend is sleeping with the enemy (as good music is played side by side with bad music).

At least I don't have to sit in pencil bits anymore, though.

Not that all from junior high was bad...



I found this pic of Gillian Anderson and "X-Files" creator Chris Carter, and thought, "Well, shit, this could go on the blog." It serves no real purpose other than eye candy, but if you're still reading my blog after all these months, then you probably don't mind the eye candy.

Funny enough, though, my brother is watching "The X-Files" downstairs.

And Gillian Anderson is absolutely gorgeous.

If you have a thing for pale gangly nerds with brown hair and glasses...

In honor of the new "Harry Potter" book that I guess is now officially out (though not "out"), I had found this great picture of "Harry Pothead" and I had written a great post around it. When I posted and published, however, the image itself didn't show. Instead, it was a gif from Tripod saying that they hosted the picture and thus owned it. Screw them.

And it was truly funny stuff, that post I wrote about the picture that is now moot. It was all about how that kid's gonna be messed up when he grows up and how I pray for him and all that jazz, but now, it does not matter. Oh well.

Speaking of children that need praying for, Jeff Sonderperson has a blog now. You can find dirty stuff about Jackie's mom (like here) and ugly pictures of *Hillary (like here).

*Oh, and when I say Hillary, I do mean Clinton. The other Hilary is of course too cute.

So, patronize Jeff's blog, as well as the other blogs I have linked.

Tonight's random shout-out will be to Erin, who if you know her, then you know she's kicking it in Tucson this summer. If you don't know her, then you don't know that she was my CA (RA) or that she's a copy editor/designer or that she just graduated or that she's from Indiana/Kentucky or that she likes pink, boys and glitter (but not pink boys who like glitter, except as friends for fashion and romance advice). So, feel free to patronize her blog as well, and well, post on the damn thing. And while you're at it, post on my damn thing, too.

Also, another shout out to Derrick Jenkins and Nick Brown, also known as in Thicket, a Columbia-based band who played this past Thursday. You might recognize them as MU students (Nick is, Derrick was), but you may even more surely recognize them as baristas at the Artisan.

"My mother always used to say: 'The older you get, the better you get, unless you're a banana.'"
-Rose, "The Golden Girls"

With the exception of going to Victoria's Secret with Colleen on Wednesday, I don't have much to talk about these days. I'm in St. Louis pursuing a job and tomorrow I'll be at my cousins' joint graduation parties. That should be interesting, as I'm sure there will be pages of anecdotes there.

Until I find better things to write about, though, I've decided to give you all anecdotes from junior high. Here goes.

The kid who ate pencils and wore 'Star Trek' uniforms

There was this kid who had lived in Israel growing up but then moved to the states by the time he was 7 or so, and yet he still had this accent. Many of us couldn't tell if it was forced or if he just naturally talked like that. Either way, he used to wear 'Star Trek' suits and pajamas to school and gnaw on pencils. He'd just sit there and chew on them from either end, and at the end of class, there would be a pile of pencil bits in his general vicinity. One time, I was in a classroom the period after he had been in there and the pile was so bad and disgusting to the girl who sat in that seat that the teacher actually went to the kid's next class to get him and make him clean up the pencil bits. The 'Star Trek' costume didn't make him stand out as much as one would think, because a few kids wore the polyester outfits to school. We never talked much, but he did used to tell me that I should be a representative for the British Dental Association. I don't know what ever happened to this kid.

From Katie's blog...

There was a Polish brat, an Italian brat, several other brats, and a hot dog. I, having had one for lunch, cheered for the hot dog. But they all looked naked to me -- nobody was wearing a bun. What's up with that?

Speaking of competitions...

A few weeks ago, I posted about Anna Nicole Smith being a "slobbering blonde" and how uncomparable she is to any of my friends. Well, both Jackie and Erin then referred to themselves as "slobbering blondes." It then occurred to me to do a point-by-point between each of these lovely blondes and the slobbering star of E! Below is my first attempt. Enjoy.

ANNA NICOLE SMITH	JACKIE HARDER
Has bleach-blonde hair	Has dishwata-blonde hair
Lives in Los Angeles, Calif.	Knows Courtney, who lives in Los Angeles
Is the size of Missouri's boot-heel	Lives in Missouri's boot-heel
Doesn't seem to know how to read or write	Reads "Yo mama" jokes online and writes them in notebooks
Client of Howard K. Stern, lawyer	Has a dirty mouth like Howard Stern, shock-jock
Became famous by posing nude in "Playboy"	Has posed nekkid for the likes of BJ and Jeff Sonderperson
Likes wrinkly men (rich old men)	Likes wrinkly men (morticians and dead guys)
Has a son	Is secretly Jeff's mother

Live from the House of Bayne

I got an IM today from Derek, and it was so funny, I thought I should share it with all of you. Enjoy.

NOTE: Keep in mind that Derek's brother, Brett, is a true thug is several senses of the word. He has been kicked out of Denny's for cussing at the staff and for not wearing shoes, and he is the same kid who taught me how to yell obscene things out the car window while riding shotgun. He is a hero of sorts, if the beholder is Eddie Haskell or Dennis the Menace.

Derek: dude Brett told this lady at Dylan's
baseball game to blow him after she was tellin him to
shut up
Derek: soooo funny
Pat: HAHA
Derek: these ladies were real bitches apparently
Derek: she is like why don't you just shut up to
Brett
Derek: and Brett is like why don't you blow me
Derek: in front of all these parents and kids and
shit
Pat: HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA
Pat: what a thug
Derek: yeah dude that shit is so funny
Derek: that is some blog material for you :-)

Summer days...

I was talking to my dear friend Coop tonight about summer in Columbia, and behold, we have another addition to...

The Quote Hall of Fame!
"Everyone was saying how great Columbia is in the summer, and I'm like, 'Are you kidding me?! It f***in' sucks!' I mean, all the douches are gone, so that's cool, but then so are all the cool people that make you want to do stuff and stay in Columbia. It sucks."

I don't hold the same sentiments (some of my best friends are in CoMo this summer), but I did find it funny. And thought I would share it. It's my special gift, which I've saved just for you.

It's Monday morning, folks, here it is, wrapped up and greased, your still-Sunday-but-almost-new-week edition of the White Boy Blog Party, or as we used to say in the hood...

Your post-weekend digest!

Did you all have a good Fathers' Day? I hope you did, even though I am one of the few who actually got to see my dad face-to-face today (as opposed to all of you out there with internships, summer school, prison sentences, who didn't get so lucky to see dear ol' dad).

Dad was only home part of the day, because he was visiting a close friend in the hospital, but I guess that still speaks volumes of my dad's character. I hope you all are fortunate enough to have a dad like mine. I don't mean conservative libertarian who likes Mount Gay rum and John Le Carre books, either, though those aspects do make for some great anecdotes.

No, I mean the type of dad whose patience, sense of humor and ability to relate and be human makes him one of your top-tier best friends. He has been a great father, husband, grandfather, son and boss, and he's done a lot that keeps surprising me.

What can I say? I've been blessed. Truly blessed.

So, if you haven't yet, thank your dad. But if your dad is an asshole, kick him in the nards.

"Everyone's a Democrat until they get a little money. Then they come to their senses!"
-Joe Flaherty, "Freaks and Geeks"

Continuing with our Sunday digest, we have a little ditty from "The New York Times."

The article discusses the financial advantage that Dubya has over the nine Democrats because, well, he got some schrillas. Bones. G's. Dead presidents. Clams. You get the idea. Being that you've had the chance to read my favorite John Edwards intern's blog, I thought I'd share with you some of this funny, funny article. Enjoy.

Republicans and Democrats said Mr. Bush's fund-raising strength reflected both a strong organization and his assiduous cultivation of his conservative base in the first years of his presidency...

By contrast, Senator John Edwards of North Carolina — who raised $7.4 million in the first quarter, making him the most successful fund-raiser among Democrats — found himself last Saturday standing in the rain in a parking lot at a corporate park in Raleigh. A steady drizzle soaked the small crowd huddled under a tent, as the band played "Ain't Too Proud to Beg."

"It's this building... it makes people nuts! It must be something in the water, something to do with the pool. Come to think of it, I was normal when I moved in!"
-Thomas Calabro (Michael Mancini), "Melrose Place"

Everyone is allowed at least one guilty pleasure, and while Erica has hers, I have had different skeletons.

Granted, I am no longer a hardcore MP fan, seeing as it's been off the air for four years and the best stories were done by the time I was in high school. Nevermind that, though, because when I saw that E! was running a "True Hollywood Story", I flipped out and decided to inform all of you.

What a great show-- and by great, I do mean horrible. I think one of the times I went to confession, I actually confessed that I loved this show. I don't think the priest knew what I was talking about -- he was foreign. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he watched, too. How weird would that have been.

Patrick: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been X months since my last confession...
Priest: And what sins do you have to confess?
Patrick: Well, Father, I am very ashamed of this, but I watch "Melrose Place."
Priest: Me too!
Patrick: Uh uh!
Priest: Yuh huh!
Patrick: No way!
Priest: Yes way!
Patrick: Mondays...
Priest: Are a bitch!
Patrick: Ah, you even know the catchline!
Priest: Who's your favorite?
Patrick: Kimberly! And well, Sydney, too, because I see a lot of myself in her.
Priest: Ahh, well, that's the sin of vanity and pride.
Patrick: I knew you'd get me on something! Damn!
Priest: Oh, there's another one!

Oi, to be a Catholic...

I try to pass myself off as a newsman (at least to my professors and editors, anyway), so I thought I'd compile an in-depth analysis of this week's hubbub and what-have-you. Great idea, no?

Take my wife, please!
A certain blonde released a book this week, and it has been getting quite the buzz. TV people are seizing the chance to rehash the Monica-zesty-starch-now-where-could-that-have-come-from? scandal. I'm all about giving coverage to new bookss and to analyzing the news and discoveries of new bits of info, but I don't see the need to use this as an opportunity to kiss Hillary's ass. Besides, who knows what/who has been there. Ewww.

I know my lineage and past comments make me less-than-objective and just a little biased, but eh, who cares. I think this is opportunism at its worst, just like the Bill-and-Hillary marriage. I thought "It Takes a Village" was okay, but I am not sure what I'll think of this new crap. Sure, I'll probably read the excerpt in "TIME" (my mom did), but I won't watch Wah-Wah's ass-kiss-fest.

I don't really feel so passionately about this issue, actually. The main reason I posted all of it is the fact that I found this bitchin' picture of Hillary. Ain't it cool? And foul? And morally reprehensible?


The real person Wah-Wah should be interviewing is Roger Clemens, who on Friday night finally got his two big records: 300 wins and 4,000 strikeouts. He had to beat the Cardinals to do it, which kinda sucked, but I'm happy for him nonetheless. I do hope that we beat the Yankees tomorrow and Sunday, though, and that Robinson learns how to not suck between now and then. I mean, he'd be great if he didn't suck.

Divide and Conquer

A Jewish town had a shortage of men for wedding purposes, so they had to import men from other towns. One day a groom-to-be arrived on a train, and two mother-in-laws-to-be were waiting for him, each claiming ownership on him.

A rabbi was called to solve the problem. After a few minutes of thought, he said: "If this is the situation, you both want the groom, we'll cut him in half and give each one of you half of him."

To this replied one woman: "If that's the case, give him to the other woman."

The rabbi said: "Do that. The one willing to cut him in half, is the real mother-in-law!"

I thought the above joke would be appropriate for the pictures because a) it's Jewish and b) it's about two sides claiming ownership over the same thing. I'm not looking to draw lines or pick sides over the Israel-Palestine mess, just acknowledge its presence, and well, find ways to poke fun.

Let's get to it, shall we?

Now, I am a big fan of trouble-seeking two-somes. I love the hijinks! I do, I can't help it. It's my weakness. Ipso ergo facto, I love the Sharon and the Arafat! Those two! So zany. Each day I read the news about those two fellers, it's like I'm watching my favorite cartoons!

Thanks, guys, you're the best! Keep up the antics, but please, don't kill each anyone.

Oh wait...

Shit. Looks like we've got ourselves a quandry. Hmmm... Damn, looks like we're screwed. I mean, I like the practical jokes at the peace summits (the whoopy cushions, the spit-wads and the hand-buzzers), but all that killing and stuff is so passe. It's definitely not in vogue anymore. Last guy that tried that stuff, we killed him. Showed him, huh?

So, come on, guys, don't you think you can help us out? Hijinks without death? Look below, I've found some of our other favorite little buddies who can pull the capers off without the carnage. See if you can't learn, okay?

	You know, take that relaxing weekend you've always talked about...
Or perhaps, reach out and show the other you care, will still having that cute affibility to say, "Oh, you know me, just joshin'!"
	And when those pesky U.N. scientists are off for a busy weekend, why not scamper around in the office for some cute horseplay! Come on, it'll be fun!

Oh, that darn pair of Arafat and Sharon. I guess boys will be boys. Shucks.

And that's a wrap!

There you have it, folks, the PMG rundown-lowdown-hosedown on this weeks affairs and events. Yee-haw. Now, don't go killin' nobody.

Okay, I am breaking all this up...

I just posted about the Cards game (please read below and post, my dear friends) and now I am posting about something completely different. I am dividing it all up not just with subheds but with different posts, so that those of us with A.D.D. can read all of it. Again, I try every once in a while to be a person with a heart.

And I'm only using subheds, and not C-decks or summary decks. As anyone on the Heads-Up listserve knows, it takes at least 17 e-mails and a certain stick-up-her-ass with too many Z's in her name to have that discussion.

Okay, moving on...

Consider this post the "Shout out" post, or the "Props to..." post. I've been very blessed these nearly 22 years, and as a lot of my friends are going through a bunch of changes in their lives (moving, graduating, dating, coming out, new jobs, birthdays, learning how to use the toilet, etc.).

Let's get this started, eh?

Shout-outs to mothers of good friends, and friends of good mothers

I was at Becca's house last night for her 21st birthday party and her brother's 25th (they were born on the same day, but four years apart, duh). Their grandparents were there, their aunt and uncles, their cousins, and a bunch of Alpha Chi Omegas I had never met but heard about (including one who crashed her car while listening to Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf"). The girls were all nice, as I expected them to be, including the party-minded one who dated friends of mine in high school without me actually knowing her. The cousins were a stitch (10-year-old Victoria is at basketball camp at my mom's school, the rival school of Cor Jesu, where Becca went and her mom teaches). Victoria was adopted from Russia and asks everyone if she looks like it or not. I don't think so, but I do find it funny that a certain relative calls her "that damn Russian!" I had never met Becca's grandparents, but they were very nice, too, and Mrs. Johnson (affectionately referred to here on out as "MoJo") gave me a great introduction to them that I thought I should cry or write her a check for advertising or at least something. She told them about me being a J-scholar and told them, "We are just so proud of him." I kid you not. She's one of the sweetest people I have ever met and I am so blessed to know her (not to mention her daughter). MoJo said that she wants me to invite her to my graduation, "if that's okay." If that's okay?? Dang, girl, you can tailgate, too!

And I met the boyfriend! Becca's boyfriend, duh! He's got a fair complexion, short brown hair, blue eyes and glasses, and he likes Ben Folds, John Hughes movies and 80s niche bands. Yes, but... he's tall! See, you knew there had to be a kicker.

And does he get the approval?

Of course. He got her Third Eye Blind tickets for her birthday.

For those of you who don't know Becca, I will give you all a comparison.
It's like:
a) giving Erin tickets to the Black and Gold Jukebox roster concert series (not that such a circus would occur)
b) giving Jake an audience with Weird Al
c) paying to have Erica written into a Harry Potter book
d) locking Goodloe in a brewery for a weekend
e) giving Colleen free reign over the screening room for "International Male"
f) giving Jackie a sling
g) allowing Keith to use that sling with Colleen's gift

Yes, yes, yes. I know. I know! I know. I didn't give her tickets, of course. I gave her a CD. Track list to come, of course...

And he was nice to me, polite, kind to MoJo, patient with DaJo, didn't beat me, etc.

We have a weiner. Er, no, that was the last boyfriend (or five). We have a winner. Yup, we sure do. And chances are we'll go see "Pretty In Pink" together at the Tivoli for the midnight showing this weekend. Rad, eh?

More shout-outs:

Rachel: I don't give her shout-outs enough on this blog, but here, have a shout-out. She had a great blog and has transferred it into a cute, quirky live journal. Reading it is like watching "When Harry Met Sally" except it's not really like that at all. But it's cute, and like "When Harry Met Sally," not something I would show my mother. But cute nonetheless-- she told me she was on her way to buy flowers to put on her boyfriend's car. Better that than Saran Wrap.

A certain MOian editor would love to congratulate you if he didn't have his mouth full...

Hey, does anybody recognize this byline?

Congratulations. (To the reporter, not the editor).

Cardinals 8, Red Sox 7

It only took 13 innings and six pitchers to get there.

The game started just as my brothers and I met our dad at the Arena Bar & Grill in Dogtown, which was 6:30ish, and just ended around 10:30ish. What a marathon night. No, no, no, not that kind of marathon.

'Twas a good night. I was hanging out with my brother at our friend's office and decided to call Dad to see what his plans for the evening were. See, we couldn't really go home, or we could, and we just didn't want to. My mom's bridge group meets once a month and was coming to our place. They all went to high school together and haven't even played bridge since 1978, but they still meet and eat and what-have-you. One of them is going through a rough time, and so my mom sent her a card that said, "Friends don't let friends eat chocolate... alone." To follow up on that, she made sure that tonight's dinner was all chocolate: candy salad, chocolate coverer strawberries, ice cream sandwiches and then bars upon bars of chocolate. Did we want to be there for this?

We decided to have a guys' night out. "We need some beers," John said as we dialed Dad. Yes, we did: a close family friend is very sick now and the prognosis is not good. There's nothing we can do except visit and pray. Until then, well, all we can do is call on our old friends George Killian and August Busch.

John picked the place, Dad picked the place, I picked at my food and Brian picked his nose. (Just kidding-- I didn't pick at my food at all.)

Time to pick on Brian!

Yes, yes, a segment of the show where we, you guessed it, pick on my brother Brian. Tonight's installment is not so much a picking on but more like a congratulations. He has a romantic interest of late. I will keep some confidentiality, but the main piece of information is that this girl has the same name as a girl he dated about some years back. This girl ended up being quite "interesting" (read: I had better luck with mental stability on 7th floor Twain) and so her name was tainted. This girl ended up being kind of a problem case and would call the house and/or come on by. Things are better now (Our family life, population: not this chick), so it's funny to be able to look back on the sitation. I present to you the scene, in progress...

John and I were teasing Brian about having a romantic interest, and then teasing him about her name. Dad returned to the table and when we told him the name of the girl, Brian was quick to point out, "Oh, don't worry, this is a different girl."

To which Dad says, "Good, because the police have orders to shoot on sight."

Reason 1,984,881 why I love my family.

There was some good bonding time, albeit melancholy due to the circumstances... At the end of the 8th inning, it was time for us to drive home, and well, Father knows best.

Dad: "Listen, anyone who plans to drive home has to be able to make it through at least two jurisdictions. Clayton is okay, because we know the judge, and Ladue is iffy, but the city is tough."
John: "Yeah, Dad, sure."

A bunch of innings and sloppy details later...

Props to: Yan, Kline, Edmonds and J.D. Drew

Jive-ass bitch-slaps to: Robinson and Matheny

And yet, Matheny almost earned a prop. I say we make his just a slap. Nothing jive-ass about it. Every once in a while, I am a man with heart.

a/s/l... lol... LMAO! u r kewl... do u have a g/f?

For all of you AIM fanatics out there, here's something for you to chew on. On my escapades last week, I read in "The Chicago Tribune" that the FBI has begun talking to teenage girls so as to figure out how teenage girls talk via instant messenger. The idea is that pedophiles on the net will be wise enough to tell that a chatter who isn't savvy enough in teen lingo is probably a fed and thus is bad news. The feds want to catch these peds, of course, and thus want to be able to keep talking to them so they can arrange a time to meet and then catch the creeps. The girls helped teach FBI agents the difference in popularity between Justin Timberlake and Beyonce, as well as the lack of appeal in George Clooney ("He's so old and gross!")

Word to the wise. Next time you're online talking to a teen girl, it could be:
a) the Feds
b) Jackie
c) Jackie's dad
d) Jackie's mom
e) a bearded TA who worked with Schneller (past or present)

This is actually kinda scary, because in high school, Becca and I were systems operators for a few chat rooms with my friend Ned, and we kept getting messages from Middle Eastern men who wanted blonde wives. Housewives, specifically. Even more specifically, they wanted soccer-mom housewives. I ain't even finsta touch that one.

Moving on though, for you AIM freaks, here is yet another fun morsel for you. It comes courtesy of my brother, who IM'd me tonight when I was away from my computer. The dialogue Brian had with my computer (and my away message) was classic, if you know anything about my family dynamics, and chances are that if you've read any five entries of this here blog, you've had no choice but to learn about the clan. Read on, and laugh, young ones.

Pat's brother: skankaroni

---

Auto response from Pat on AIM: Pat loves you.
He's not here right now, though. He's probably out with
your mother. And your sister. At the same time.

---

Pat's brother: damn dude
Pat's brother: that's cool and all , as it could happen
Pat's brother: but damn,
Pat's brother: dating family members is really only for
arkansas n stuff
Pat's brother: you could marry aunt cathy down there
Pat's brother signed off at 8:49:03 PM.

Enough o' that. I'm getting a brain-freeze.

"She's so sassy"

As a certain Cholita pointed out, I neglected to mention the greatness of "Waiting for Guffman" in my last post. It's a great mockumentary piece about Bumblefuck, Mo., (or anywhere in the midwest), and it is a good spin on the whole "Waiting for Godot" motif. In that last reference, drop the "ot" on "Godot" and you'll see who they're actually waiting for. A little more depressing, eh? Tis okay, the movie was funny, the stars were brilliant, and Parker Posey is adorable. Nuff said.

Take that, diva.

Speaking of which, the diva's boy comes to town on Friday, and I have been enlisted (or enlisted myself?) to help find the best places of Mid-Mo. to help give this Jon fellow a taste for the Midwest. My thoughts are SoCo, Darlene's, Black and Gold, Diner and that big-ass tree that people think is so freaky.

Let me know what you all suggest. Hook a brother up.

I am at the point where I will consider watching 'Lifetime' to have something to do.

And if you all have any job ideas, please, hook a brother up. I applied for 12 jobs today, putting my total at 20 or something like that. I need money, and I need something to do. I tried working out today, and that only went so far. Physical activity is good, but what does one think about? I have nothing really to think about now except that I have no job. That is not entirely true, and those of you I have talked to recently know this, but still...

Working out today, I found I had nothing to think about, except my joblessness (read above). I was in my house (read: duplex), running up and down the stairs, listening to Pearl Jam's "Ten." It's a great album, but it didn't stimulate much thought, so I made a game up for myself. Every time I came up to the top of the stairs, I looked out the window and then darted away. You see, I was pretending I was a soldier in World War II, and that I was training in my barracks to go fight against the Germans. I didn't want to be seen by the Gestapo, hence the darting away from the window. The running up and down the stairs helped me psyche up, as I was preparing myself physically for the inevitable battle. And the fact that my arms shook worked, too, for I could pretend that I was getting my arms ready for the gun with which I would guard myself against the Germans. Damn Jerries, you can never be too careful.

Of course, I grew tired of this in 10 minutes, quit working out and started watching "Real World: Paris." I have no culture. And no self-discipline. The mental exercises may work for my father (it's how he passes time while driving, or in boring meetings), but I just don't have the strength for it. I would want to know why the Jerries were chasing me in the first place, and why we can't be friends? Damn Jerries. You can never be too careful.

I typed a long-ass post last night after going to the Landing for my friend JJ's 21st birthday, but Blogger wasn't working and so the post kept getting lost in my attempts to publish it. Thankfully, however, I had the foresight to realize this would happen and I saved it so I could put it on my school website with a link.

So, later this week, look for a link titled "This is a story about drunk people when they are/aren't wearing clothes. Read at your own discretion." Hopefully around that same time, I can have the majority of my pictures online (graduation, Jake's birthday, random pictures of my lunch, etc.)

Oi, the week that was...

"Did God go in the hopper?"
-My nephew

I left Columbia last Monday, June 2nd, and came home to St. Louis for a few days. It was nice; I didn't do much except stay close to the family, for my four-almost-five-year-old nephew was in town. He still wears his khaki pants and dress shirts with the tie, and his "Grandpa Leo" hat. He's a great little helper around, volunteering to take out the trash, even when it's not trash day (and he knows when trash day is). Michael wants to be a trash collector when he grows up, and thus he is very interested and knowledgeable about all things trash (minus Anna Nicole). He knows his trashman's name, the names of all the major trash companies and the parts of the trash truck. His favorite part of the trash truck is "the hopper," the part of the truck where the trash gets processed (compacted?) into.

People have died falling into the hopper, and while Michael not completely grasp the concept of death just yet (he'll have time to learn), he does understand that it's fun to joke about the hopper as a place "where things go." He overheard my mom saying something (about an old acquaintance) to the effect of "God knows he's been gone for a while," and Michael asked, "Did God go in the hopper?"

No, He didn't, you little nihilistic trash fetishist. :)

"They're all the same movie! That's why Hollywood movies are like visits from old friends."
-"Duckman"

After my two days home, I left for Chicago with my friend Matt B. to see our friend Bo. It was good to see Bo, although we decided not to jointly work on the script as we had earlier planned. I did, however, get to see his latest film, a silent, black-and-white 16mm film about a Jewish man personally coming to terms with the Holocaust, ala "The Believer." It was good, even if I did wince and shake as I watched him carve shit in his arm.

The thing to remember about Bo is that he is a film major and also a big enthusiast in popular film. Walking into his apartment, you will see racks upon racks of DVDs and videotapes. I mean, hundreds. His apartment was recently robbed, and at least a top rack of DVDs was stolen in the debacle. This sucked hardcore, for they took a lot of the ones I hadn't seen, but they left a good lot of 'em. As per every time I hang out with Bo, we watched and saw a lot of movies: "Finding Nemo," "Equilibrium," "Waiting for Guffman" and "When Harry Met Sally." I hadn't seen any of them. For real.

"When Harry Met Sally" is a good movie, especially if you are what we call an "analyst." An "analyst" is someone who neurotically deconstructs every interaction with the sex he or she is attracted to and tries to figure out what every little word, movement and sigh means. These people, as you might be able to tell, are neurotic, but in force, they are quite helpful for romantic advice. I won't embarrass anyone, but many of my readers are analysts, one in particular. Like I said, I won't embarrass said individual. I promise. :)

And "Finding Nemo" was good, too. It was one of my favorite "father-son" movies, and thus, I have decided to make a list of the best father-son movies. It's appropriate that Father's Day is now less than one week away. Feel free to add to the list.

Field of Dreams
Road to Perdition
Return of the Jedi
Blow

"If you're not over here in fifteen minutes, you can find a new best friend."
-"Ferris Bueller's Day Off"

It's now after 2 in the morning on Monday, June 9th. I shall be leaving St. Louis for Columbia in just a matter of hours. Hope to see all of you soon. I will be returning to St. Louis in a few days, though, for Becca's 21st birthday. Her parents are throwing a huge bash, and "the boyfriend" will be there. I have not met the boy, and Becca says "he really wants to meet you." I have not talked to Becca's mom about this, but does anyone have any idea as to how to conspire? Not in a bad way, of course, but in a "Meet the Parents" way. If he's meeting the best friend, I want to make him sweat. I imagine I'll like him, but still, I want all your ideas.

"I'm alone
Sitting with my broken glass
My four walls
Follow me through my past
I was on a Paris train
I emerged in London rain
And you were waiting there
Swimming through apologies
I remember searching for the perfect words
I was hoping you might change your mind
I remember a soldier standing next to me
Riding on the Metro..."
-"The Metro"

I hath sojourned to St. Louis. It rained the whole time as I drove here, and the highways were a little too slick, if you ask me. Quite slippery, they were, but I made here, safely, I should add, and both I and the car are both in one piece.

And the car has a new alternator to go along with its new battery. It is quite stellar. Almost as stellar as the girl who sat next to me in the muffler shop.

"...'cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job... and you ain't got shit to do!"

Yes, yes, but the times of having no job are (seemingly and hopefully) coming to an end. I did what I should have thought to do on day 1: go to the human resources building on campus and find out about getting some sort of student job that I could work full-time over the summer and then keep as a part-time gig until I graduate! "Shee-ash, that's a great idea, Pat, what a genius!" you say. I know, I know, you don't gotta blow a brother up!

"But Patrick, if you're trying to get some dope-ass work opportunities, don't you think that is hindered by you not being in Columbia?"

Well, hey, hey, hey! Aren't you the smart cracker! You'd think so, eh? But these people said that it would take at least a week to process the papers, and I am holding out for these people because the potential pay is better than any other job I've ever even dreamed of applying for. Now, I don't like to kiss and tell, but just think of Becky Zipfel... Okay, now think of how old she looks in human years.... Yup, I'd be getting paid more than that...

So, if I won't know for a week, I'll just chill out. Right, yo?

I know none of you were pointing the finger, but as a guilt-ridden Catholic, I feel it necessary to try to avoid sloth as much as possible. I can't afford to go to the lake of fire. It's hotter than a blotter down there. And it doesn't help that I'm reading Dan Savage's "Skipping Towards Gomorrah" (still), either. I mean, it's a great book, but my own sinfulness just feels all that more, well, sinful.

It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses.
-- Hit it!

In the vein of (vain) chilling, I will be headed to Chicago tomorrow, with Brakensiek, to see Bo. We'll only be there two days, but we're hoping to accomplish a lot.

See, we found out about a project that will accept scripts from unknown writers... One team will be picked, flown out to Burbank, Calif., and put up in a house for a month until the members of the team can find more permanent digs. On top of that, the team members will receive $50,000 each and will also receive help in the production of the script. Neat-o, eh?

Yeah! That's what I'm talking about. I know, I know, it's cool, and what do we have to lose?

But, as I will be gone from Wed., June 4, through Fri., June 6, I will not have my cell phone. Roaming expenses are expensive, yo, so my phone will be here with my family, turned off and charging, while some will drool on it (my nephew and my mom) and some will stare at it (my brothers and my dad). Feel free to leave messages, but you won't reach me during that time. I'll return on Friday, the 6th, and then probably head back to CoMo. There will be movies to watch and karaoke to sing (wink wink to Jeepers McCreepers).

Kids say the darnedest things.

Yes, Mr. Cosby, they do. Michael (my nephew) is in town and not only have we played pretend, we've listened to Run DMC's "Run's House" and talked about trash trucks. He is in love with trash trucks, as he wants to be a trash man when he gets older. He has a photo album of trash trucks, garbage collectors and landfills in Springfield, Mo., where he lives with my his mom (my sister) and his dad.

Perhaps the best Michael anecdote since I got here yesterday...

John, Michael and I went to get coffee and donuts today at Coffee Cartel. Michael is very particular about his donuts, and does not like "bumps" on his donuts. (The donuts at Schnucks are made in a certain textured pan that leave "bumps" on the bottom and he does not like them. He instead prefers the Krispy Kreme donuts sold at Dierberg's.) Well, John didn't want to go to Dierberg's and instead we went to Cartel. (Fine with me!) Cartel was a good 15-minute drive, at least, and for a 4-and-a-half-year-old, that's a long time.

"I want a iced cholocate donut with no bumps!" he would repeat in a mechanical but not obnoxious tone.
"No, you have to ask for a chicken donut!" John said.
M: "But I don't want a chicken donut!"
J: "Yes, you do!"
M: "You eat it!"
J: "It's gross! I don't like them!"
M: "Me neeter!"

But the hands-down best occurred when we got to Cartel. John taught Michael a question-answer response to play out when he saw young attractive women.

He was to hold his hands up to his face and tilt his head to the side and softly ask, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

If the girl were to say no, Michael was then to respond, "I think you would like my uncles. Can I have your number?"

He had a few donuts and was hepped up on a lot of sugar, so he didn't master it right away. But when got home to Grandma Janie, he had it down pat.

What a little dude. And now we're off to the basement to play drums. How cool is that?!

(By the way, feel free to e-mail me script ideas. I'm thinking I may have to write about all of you, in an expose. Dominican love-machines and all...)

I walked into my house tonight to find Beth (Jake's girlfriend) and Jessie (a friend and now neighbor) watching "Showgirls." They had never seen it, and when I walked in, they had just watched the infamous shower scene. Their viewing of said film was a lot like watching "Mystery Science Theater 3000": they had a comment for everything on-screen, but unlike MST3K, they weren't mocking the movie so much as they were expressing confusion.

"How can she say that?"
"What is she wearing?"
"Why was her friend not there? That should have made her 'friend alert' go off!"
"I can't go to sleep tonight after watching that!"

It was one of the funniest but most bizarre things I had ever heard. Girls are so weird sometimes. It was just a bad movie with gratuitous boob scenes. I mean, come on. Mute the shit and fast-forward. What's the big deal?

On that note...

I am careening down the road to hell...

I have been reading Dan Savage's screamingly funny book, "Skipping Towards Gamorrah." In this book, he challenges the virtue-minded, right-wing social conservatives who assert that homosexuality, drinking and other vices are sending the country to moral decay and well, hell. Savage, an openly gay sex columnist who lives with his boyfriend and their adopted son, wrote the book in "defense of sinners everywhere" and writes on all seven of the deadly sins. He explains where the sins came from (not the Bible, surprisingly enough) and writes about virtuous, "otherwise good people" who commit these sins. He writes, "Part traveloque, part memoir, part Bork-and-Bennett bitch slap, this book is a love letter to Thomas Jefferson, American freedom, and American sinners."

Well, I was at the Artisan this afternoon, telling Dan, Beth and Gia about this book. I explained to them how Savage wanted to commit all these sins before writing about them, but was told by a Baptist minister that he couldn't commit adultery because he was gay and "would always be just a fornicator in the eyes of God." His writing style is so smooth and tongue-in-cheek that I couldn't help but to read out whole passages. The three of them were laughing hysterically and somehow the conversation turned to "Kool-Aid Christians" (Puritannical types that treat their religion like a cult). Well, they were laughing even harder, because as I was reading all of this, unbeknownst to me (but very known to Dan, Beth and Gia) a couple of "Kool-Aid Christians" were sitting next to me at the bar. Oops.

I don't eat meat on Fridays during Lent, I go to Mass on the weekends, I say grace before meals, and I take deep breathes and offer things up to God. I pray before bed, and I get offended by sacrilege.

But of course, that doesn't necessarily mean much of anything.

And speaking of what we do on Sunday nights...



What happened to Anna Nicole Smith?

The reality TV craze has hit me, Keith and Nat, and well, the main target of obsession, besides "American Idol" has been E!'s show featuring Anna Nicole. I think of it as being like a train-wreck: you don't want to watch, but strangely, you can't help it. She's obnoxious, rude, self-absorbed, dumber than shit, and seems to serve no purpose but take up space. What the hell happened to her? She's lost whatever she had, and I think it's clearly evident that whatever she did have left as a result of heavy doping and pill-popping. And well, call me shallow, but I don't know if I need another aggressive, pill-popping foul-mouthed blonde, ya know what I mean?

God is in the TV?

Jake has just returned from KOMU and the girls are explaining to him the horror that was "Showgirls," pool scene and all. Meanwhile, "From Dusk Till Dawn" is on TV, and we can't get the DVD player or Playstation 2 to work. Thus, possibly no "Keeping the Faith" tonight. :( Sad, because we had a nice theme of Jenna Elfman going on this weekend: we watched "EDTv" last night and I am further convinced that Jenna has been touched by the hands of God. Explaining why my new Schnucks video card will be the death of me.

(And yet good for Nat and her scouting of boys, but that continues tomorrow evening.)

So what shall occur for the rest of this evening? Not sure. There was talk about heading to Darlene's Hide-Away, the baddest karaoke bar this side of the ole Miss, but now not sure. Jake talks of making omelets. What a cracker.