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Gasp!
Posted 6:02 PM, Nov 30, 2004 |
So Ken Jennings was all losing and all that shit today. What a fool.
It was awesome, because he was behind just before they revealed his Final Jeopardy question, so everyone knew he had to get it right. He didn’t. A giant collective gasp went out like someone just punched the collective audience in their big, collective gut.
It was funny, because during the very first commercial break on NBC (the Jeopardy! network here), the local newscast preview was about how Jennings lost. They apologized later, and I laughed. Buffoons. They even said obviously they weren’t smart enough to be on Jeopardy!.
Ken Jennings is awesome. As lame as it sounds, gee, I will never see anything quite so uniquely nerdy and bizarre - nerdizarre, as it were - in my lifetime.
Next year for Halloween I’m dressing up as Ken Jennings. I’ll get my hair colored and a fake Jeopardy! buzzer and a tie and a Book of Mormon.
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Who is Ken Jennings?
Posted 9:20 PM, Nov 29, 2004 |
So I guess tomorrow, Tuesday, is the day Ken Jennings blows it. That’s the rumor, anyway, that he loses on his 75th show.
Man, what a fool. What a dumbass. I can’t believe he’s going to blow it. If that guy had any brains at all, he wouldn’t lose.
He’s a Mormon. Maybe God is mad at him and is going to show the world what a fool, what a complete buffoon he is.
Nah, Ken, just kidding, man. You rock. Send money.
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To a Theater Near You
Posted 8:18 PM, Nov 28, 2004 |
It looks like Sideways is finally in large release. The reviews are all making it sound like it’s the best thing this year, and it looks like my kind of movie - low-key, darkly funny - basically, something I wish I would’ve written. I’ll see this week.
Also, A Very Long Engagement first struck me as a boring French film about World War I and some dope French girl in love. I don’t mind foreign films, but this one seemed dull and slow. But, oops, probably not. I didn’t realize it was directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and has that goofy little Audrey Tautou in it. (She could probably kick my ass armed with only a day-old baguette.) So there’s that. (Oh, and it’s got Jodie Foster, whom I genuinely like, speaking French, and Dominique Pinon, the actor referred to as “bassett-hound-faced” in some article I read.)
And then Mike Nichols’ Closer. Who knows? Nichols’ is sort of a self-indulgent filmmaker, in my opinion, in some cases. Disclaimers out of the way, it has Natalie Portman. And Julia Roberts. So I guess it’s six in one hand, half a dozen in the other.
And National Treasure! Woohoo. I found a treasure map on the back of my toilet paper today while in the bathroom. It was a movie ticket to see National Treasure, assuredly a giant piece of crap.
And, musically, my Christmas 2004 mix is well in the works. It’s the only thing I managed to accomplish this weekend.
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The Arcade Fire
Posted 12:12 AM, Nov 28, 2004 |
Man, concerts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. The plan for the evening was to go out with some people from work and then head over to the 400 Bar for the Arcade Fire show.
Yeah, you know, the Arcade Fire. They’re great, blah blah. And they put on a hell of a live show.
Or so I’ve heard.
But I wouldn’t know.
One thing I do know is that I can’t plan for concerts. Some of you might recall the Xiu Xiu concert that I attended (barely) a month or so ago, due to poor planning.
Earlier today, the co-workers called and cancelled, citing illness, among other things. I was still going to meet one co-worker at the show, but we weren’t doing anything ahead of time. Doors at 8pm, opener I don’t care about at 9pm, I guessed, and so Arcade Fire around 10pm or 10:15pm. Cool. So I’ll get there at 10pm.
And I did.
And it was sold out.
And I went home.
Man, I bet it was a hell of a show.
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Cranberry Sauce
Posted 6:11 PM, Nov 26, 2004 |
This Thanksgiving, I noticed a huge media backlash against the jellied, can-imprinted cranberry sauce. Even Loveline had their own recipe for “authentic” cranberry sauce. It seems easy enough, but I’ll say, I’m sort of partial to the canned stuff. I don’t claim it’s the real deal, but I do claim that it’s pretty tasty. Damn tasty.
Cranberries were on sale at the grocery store today, and I almost bought a bunch to make cranberry sauce out of. I didn’t, because Thanksgiving is over.
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Insert Clever NBA Acronym Here
Posted 11:56 PM, Nov 25, 2004 |
So I missed my big chance to say anything at all about the Pacers-Pistons Motor City Superbrawl. Or so I thought.
Today, conveniently, the T’wolves Michael Olowokandi was tasered and then arrested outside an Indianapolis nightclub. The fact that, even after the Superbrawl of last week, Olowokandi chose to exhibit the stupidity of the average professional athlete, the arrogance, the foolishness, the boorishness… The fact that he chose to exhibit these qualities that befit only the most beautiful human beings on the planet gives me a chance to go back and talk about Ron Artest.
Before I go any further, though, I should point out that I’m only saying any of this because Artest is black.
No, no, I’m kidding.
I actually really wanted to talk about the article linked above, and this is a good reason.
Seriously, professional athletes are out of control. Apart from the Superbrawl and the (relatively minor) Olowokandi incident, an NHL player was punished for hitting another player from behind and driving his skull into the ice, and another NHL player was arrested for putting out a hit, as in saying, “I’ll pay you to kill someone.”
Kobe Bryant was on trial for rape. Artest is a thug.
Ray Lewis of the Ravens, a few years back, was on trial for murder or something.
Francisco Rodriguez (I think - I’m too lazy to look) threw a chair into the stands at a Rangers baseball game.
It’s almost enough to make me give up on professional sports altogether. Almost.
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Diapers
Posted 12:44 AM, Nov 25, 2004 |
So things have been quiet around here, what with happy hours and video games and things. You understand.
Today’s funny moment: returning to the apartment tonight, someone had actually put their diaper trash can in the hallway. On it was a note reading, “Next time, don’t leave your diaper can in the hallway. Everything smells like shit. The Management.”
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Charlie Sheen is My Role-Model
Posted 10:09 PM, Nov 22, 2004 |
Or at least my fashion model. I watch Two and a Half Men weekly, for some reason. I can’t explain my fascination with the show, but I find it funny. It’s funny in the same way that a lot of other sitcoms are - very traditional, lots of jokes about poop and farting and sex. I guess the only reason I can think that I enjoy it is Charlie Sheen.
Mostly, I came to realize, it’s the shirts he wears. He likes to wear these bold, solid-colored, vertical-striped shirts with a slightly Cuban or Hispanic flair. I’m all for that. I’m currently trying to figure out how I can determine where the costume designers get Charlie’s clothes.
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Ill
Posted 10:01 PM, Nov 21, 2004 |
First of all, the title to this entry is ill, not 3. Ill, as in sick, as opposed to a prime number. Not feeling well. Of unkempt body.
I would write more, but I’ve felt mostly ill all day. This morning, I didn’t realize I felt ill, mostly because I was hung over a little. An afternoon nap made that go away, but then left me feeling ill, which I’ve felt off and on all evening.
Maybe I’ll have something more to say tomorrow. For now, no.
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Go Away, Texas
Posted 6:36 PM, Nov 18, 2004 |
I don’t write about news much around here, but, as if we didn’t need another reason to expel Texas from the Union:
This article is about a school district in Texas that hosts a theme day where students reverse gender roles. It was billed by some conservative group as “official cross-dressing day,” and “encouraging 4-year-olds to become cross dressers.”
An alarmed parent (oh my!) whose child is destined to become a hate-crime felon equated it to experimenting with drugs, saying, “If it’s OK to dress like a girl today, then why is it not OK in the future?”
This is the same kind of flawed, bonehead logic that leads people to kill one another for different beliefs, keep children locked in straightjackets and make sure they don’t experience anything until boxes of Bibles fall on their heads and kill them.
Texas: we don’t really want you around here anymore. You, Texas, are a bad influence on our children. If it’s OK to make these kind of ignorant statements today, then why will it not be OK to make them in the future?
Go away, Texas. You are shaped like a nasty, bulging sore on the ass end of America.
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Two Crazy Nights (Part Two)
Posted 10:25 AM, Nov 17, 2004 |
As promised, my second crazy dream:
This one took place near a bowling alley at the bottom of a hill. The hill was largely reminiscent of the one near my apartment building, except bigger, and there is no bowling alley in my apartment building.
I was meeting this family I know at the bowling alley, and I got there early, so decided to bowl a little. Each time I rolled a ball, it would come back in the ball return except every ball would then be encased in a stainless steel cylinder that I could not figure out how to open. As a result, my bowling game was rapidly coming to an end. I remember feeling embarassed that I couldn’t figure out how to open the cylinders; many other people were bowling and having a grand time.
However, not the family next to me. The family next to me was, as near as I could tell, Mormon, and they were praying, not bowling.
The family I was meeting eventually arrived, and they came in absolutely drenched. They told me it was raining like crazy outside, and I looked outside, and it was. The rain was coming down incredibly hard, and the wind was whipping it around, and it looked like a general mess.
I became alarmed, thinking I had left my windows open, so I went out and got in the car. While in the car, I saw that at the bottom of the hill, there was a long chicken wire fence, maybe a couple feet high. Behind the fence, in what was pretty much a long ditch, water was collecting as it rained and ran down the hill. The animals on the other side of the fence were trying to escape.
Most of the animals were rabbits, and they were trying to jump over the fence, but most were not making it all the way over, and were, at that point, just lying limply on the top of the fence. They didn’t appear to be wounded, but just stuck.
There were rats scurrying around in the street in front of me, and one rabbit managed to wriggle off the top of the fence, hopped over to a confused, drowning rat, and grabbed him in his mouth. Rabbit and rat hopped away, presumably to freedom.
At this point, a gigantic gust of wind came up and literally blew the rabbits off the fence. I remember a lot of rabbit bodies hitting the car, and trying to use the windshield wipers to get rid of them. There were tons of them, like being in a car wash where all the brushes are rabbits.
There was an intermission at this point.
Then, the storm was over. I went outside of the bowling alley and saw animals standing all over the hillside; the entire scene was picturesque. There were deer and geese and foxes, although I don’t remember any rabbits. The family I was there with and I were admiring the animals when I saw, up the street, a woman on her porch.
I believe she was looking at the animals as well and generally enjoying the post-storm air when a giant brown bear attacked her out of nowhere. I remember it striking the woman twice, and each time, giant fireworks went off, seemingly from directly between the woman and the bear.
The bear didn’t go away, and so I started to yell loudly at it in an effort to either distract it or scare it away. It was far enough away from me that I knew if it came towards me, I would have plenty of time to get away.
And I would have, except apparently my yelling raised the ire of another brown bear that was much closer to me. It attacked me, but seemed somehow slow and dimwitted. I even sort of remember it was being made of a bunch of polygons, like some sort of video-game bear.
I managed to escape, but it was still chasing me. I ran around the railing near the steps to the bowling alley, and was about to open the door when a giant black bear - clearly a different bear - was somehow in my way.
I don’t remember how - in fact, I don’t think it was explained - but I managed to get back inside the bowling alley safely.
I tried telling people inside the bowling alley how 2 bears attacked me and I escaped both of them and lived to tell about it, but nobody seemed to believe me.
You believe me, don’t you?
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Two Crazy Nights (Part One)
Posted 8:15 AM, Nov 16, 2004 |
The last two nights, I’ve had crazy, insane, disturbing, frightening dreams. I think it has something to do with eating really close to my bedtime, and also having a fair amount to drink right before my bedtime. Neither of these things have ever caused me to have noticeably strange dreams, at least until now. Maybe it’s something about this particular combination of rum, gin, vodka, triple sec, Midori, pineapple and orange juice, grenadine, and pizza rolls. That’s possible - I’ve never had that combination before.
Anyway, this is the first of two successive dreams. I’ll post the second one later today, probably. I didn’t take notes on this first one, so details are a little sketchy. The second one should be much more complete.
Okay:
So I’m back in Duluth, and driving up this huge hill near where I grew up, in the middle of the night. Something happens to my car, and it can’t make it up the hill. It isn’t too far from my dad’s house, so I decide to just walk back. At the bottom of the hill is a pick-up truck, and it’s headlights are on, but I can’t see who’s inside.
At some point, I get abducted by the people in the truck. The next thing I know, I’m pressed into the backseat, my legs compressed against my chest, mostly because I’m in the backseat of a pick-up truck, which, if you’ve ever been, you know space is at a premium.
I don’t know the passenger, although he reminds me of Wednesday’s brother from The Addams Family movie, call him Tuesday, even though I know that’s not his name. The driver is one of my good friends, whom we’ll call Jake, to protect himself from knowing what actually happened to him in my dream.
So I’m really upset that Jake has abducted me, and it clearly is not a practical joke. At one point, I’m in the front seat, between Tuesday and Jake. I vaguely recall weeping on Tuesday’s shoulder, but that may not have happened.
Jake drives us around for a long time, and if he had a motive or a plan, I don’t remember either. Somehow I’ve returned to my compressed position in the backseat, but I also have magically acquired a shotgun.
The shotgun is sort of wedged down by the floor, so the trigger is by my foot and the barrel is pointing up and forward, at Jake.
And then I shoot Jake in the head, twice, while he’s driving. And these aren’t like your 1960s war-movie-shootings, where the person just falls over limply. These are like your Full Metal Jacket, Pulp Fiction, Saving Private Ryan shootings, where everything is as messy as it probably is in real life.
To me, anyway, this is disturbing. Sorry for dragging down the general light, campy nature of the site.
So, anyhow, at this point I either wake up or dream that I wake up (which would make the original dream a meta-dream, actually). In my newly-awakened state, my fingers of each hand are curled, as if actually holding a shotgun. I’m sort of curled up, much like I’d be if I were in the back of a pick-up truck.
So that’s about it.
This dream isn’t as surreal, in a sense, as my other one. At least everything in this dream could happen, although, gods be praised, it won’t.
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A Marginal Success
Posted 9:14 PM, Nov 14, 2004 |
So things here have been marginally successful. With a few letters still out, the project has gotten me published in a local paper, 2 free burritos from the finest burrito folks on the planet, and about $21 worth of food from Totino’s. Even factoring in the cost of stamps, I’m still a big winner.
However, this is another week in which I have nothing to write. One of my unwritten rules is that my complaint or compliment has to be legitimate. If I run around giving out unwarranted compliments, it cheapens the value of genuine compliments, just like if I were printing and legitimately using counterfeit $10 bills in my bathtub (printing them there, not using them there).
Likewise with complaints. If I send out complaints, eventually someone will catch on that they aren’t valid complaints, and then genuine complaints will have even less meaning then they do now, and it’s already a little like whispering to a fan on the other side of the half court line in a packed high school gymnasium with the pep band playing Eye of the Tiger.
So, since I have nothing to write for the week, I’m not going to write anything. I’ll just write letters when I feel the need. I’m not quitting the project, just restructuring it.
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There is No God
Posted 2:00 AM, Nov 14, 2004 |
While at the Electric Fetus this afternoon, record shopping, some woman was looking for the new Ruben Studdard CD. I’m so uncool that I don’t even know if that’s how you spell his name. I’m lucky I know he was the first winner on the new version of Star Search. At least I know that, so I’m not a totally unhip moron.
It turns out the new one hasn’t come out yet. The release date got delayed while everyone at the record label tried to figure out who is buying all these Ruben Studdard CDs, and how much longer can we continue to fool them?
The clerk told her that they have copies of the first one, which, I presume, is woefully out of print, and that’s why he told her.
She, then, said to him, I shit you not, “Someone broke into my car, and that’s all they took was my Ruben Studdard CD. That’s all they took.” Yes, she repeated it because otherwise who on Earth would have believed her?
One would obviously assume they also stole her Clay Aiken CD, but that was not the case, I assure you. I heard her say that it was only her Ruben Studdard CD.
There is no God.
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The Futureheads
Posted 10:26 PM, Nov 11, 2004 |
So I went to see The Futureheads tonight. Something I learned the first time I went to see The Unicorns was reinforced - bands on their first tour tend to play the songs pretty close to the album version.
This was made noticeable by the second time I saw The Unicorns, a concert in which they were mostly out of control (in a good way) and jammed, riffed, and generally screwed around with a lot of the songs.
The ‘heads did not do that. It isn’t to say they weren’t good (they were), but generally when I go to a concert, I’d like to listen to a “concert version” of a song. But then, when I only paid $10, can I complain?
Sure. Let me complain just a tad more. Their set was about 45 minutes, with breaks - they aren’t the Fiery Furnaces, pal. I shouldn’t have expected any more than that, since their album only clocks in at about 33 minutes. I guess maybe they could have covered some Iron Butterfly or something.
But seriously - I’m not complaining. I’m not. It was a good show, they’re a bunch of young, working blokes, their drummer’s head is noticeably round - even, dare I say, melon-shaped. They reminded me a lot of the Beatles in that working-class look. They had excellent harmonies that were much easier to pick up on since I could see who was singing.
Yes, yes, good stuff. And I guarantee, the next time they swing into town, they’ll be better, and I’ll be there.
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Personal
Posted 7:26 PM, Nov 9, 2004 |
I spent some time broswing a bunch of personal ads this evening. It seems there is a strong negative correlation between:
- how interesting someone’s profile is to read, and
- how attractive they are.
(Now, I didn’t say a perfectly negative correlation…) So the more attractive someone is, the less interesting they appear to be, at least based on a 2-minute-to-read personal ad.
This goes right along with my theory that attractive girls aren’t, in general (okay, no more qualifiers now) interesting to be around. They’ve spent their whole lives saying uninteresting things and nobody around them has been able to tell them they’re boring because they’re also attractive.
Less attractive people are those who, when saying something uninteresting, get walked away from. Sure, it sounds harsh, but ultimately they become a far more interesting person. Or at least a little more interesting.
It would be nice if:
1) People walked away from attractive, boring people, and those people actually paid attention and made some connection, and thus because more interesting to listen to, and
2) Telling unattractive people that they’re unattractive made them smarter.
There are exceptions. (Damn, see, there’s another qualifier.)
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Kids Ages 5-12
Posted 9:25 PM, Nov 7, 2004 |
Man, sometimes I really can’t stand kids. And then today, I’m watching television, and a commercial for a furniture store comes on, and there’s all these kids running around, jumping on the furniture in a healthy, happy-kid, non-furniture-destructive manner. They’re chasing each other around the table. Then the boy is going to school, but before walking out the door he makes a move on a chessboard near the door. And then I went to dooce and looked at her picture of the day - yeah, Leta is cute, but I’m not into anything with diapers, young or old, but kids ages 5-12 seem ok.
And so it was, just for a minute, I swear (well, two minutes, total, today), that I thought it would be awesome to have kids ages 5-12 that are mine, that share my blood. I know, it’s creepy. I mean, creepy that I’m having such a thought, given my general disdain for kids.
Maybe this is part of that crazy ‘evolution says I will procreate’ thing, and something over which I have no control. I’d like to think of it that way, something completely out of my hands, rather than something I actually, consciously, really want for myself. I’d like to be able to tell the judge, when I show up in court because my 17-year-old set fire to an automobile that belonged to his Biology teacher, ‘Your honor, 17 years ago, I just couldn’t help myself. You have my sincerest apologies, and I wish it had never happened. Believe me.’
Believe me.
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Changes: A Geek Plea
Posted 8:15 PM, Nov 7, 2004 |
There are a bunch of changes I’d like to implement around here. I’d like to keep the site easy for me to update, with different things (like To Whom It May Concern) working together, being sorted and moved around and archived in various ways. For instance, I’d like to add movie reviews, which were present on the old site, to the new one, and, like the old site, have them accessible through a link on the sidebar.
The problem is, since I’m using MovableType and am running two blogs off it (the main Year of Glad and To Whom… (which is a whole separate blog)), I’m using a multitude of templates. The main thing the templates have in common is the sidebar, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I could somehow use stylesheets to rework the entire site so the stylesheet simply calls the sidebar file, that would be excellent. That way, I’d only have to make changes to the sidebar file to organize new features.
Of course, I’d have to be able to rebuild the sidebar features as well, but I don’t think that’d be a problem.
So, how do you use stylesheets to do this? Well, I have no idea. And so, as it stands, changes will be a long time coming. If you can help, please do.
If the above seems like it’s written in Greek (or Geek), just ignore it and come back some other day. I try to keep the geek stuff to a minimum.
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Wendy’s
Posted 8:11 PM, Nov 7, 2004 |
November 7, 2004
[Real Address Removed]
Wendy’s
13645 83rd Way N.
Maple Grove, MN 55369
To Whom It May Concern:
I visit your Wendy’s location at least once a week on my lunch break. I am routinely pleased with the service, speed, and courteous nature of your employees.
On a regular basis, the drive-thru line is long, with 4 or 5 cars in front of me. However, it always seems like the line moves in a rapid, efficient fashion. The payment window is always courteously staffed with the same employee, who is always polite and professional. The pick-up window is adequately staffed, and the food is always hot and tasty.
Keep up the good work.
Sincerely,
[Real Name Removed]
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Caller ID and Ego
Posted 8:15 PM, Nov 4, 2004 |
I used to lament the fact that people used caller ID to screen their calls, mostly when I found it that sometimes they screened me. Can you imagine it? I couldn’t.
However, it seems that lately there are more and more people whose calls I would like to screen. Caller ID is looking more and more attractive. So is just not having a phone at all, although it would mean an abrupt end to this website.
On days like today, that would seem okay, after spending just shy of 12 hours at work. It’s 8:17 and bed is calling my name like a sweet little minx.
Addendum: I had to look up the word “minx” because it just didn’t look right. (It is.) For some reason, I was thinking of “mink.” Yes, my bed is calling me like a sweet little mink, a ferret, a marmot.
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Leaving?
Posted 9:59 PM, Nov 3, 2004 |
Okay, so now your candidate has lost. What are you going to do? I heard more than one person (2) say they were moving to Canada. Not so fast, apparently. You’re better off staying here.
I, myself, have made the claim to leave the country if Bush won (again). But then I figure I made it 4 years, I can make it another 4. I will say that I’m pulling for Rehnquist to, well, live.
Is the Bush anti-stem-cell-research really a clever ploy to kill Rehnquist?
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I Voted for Kerry
Posted 1:50 PM, Nov 2, 2004 |
Why is everyone so afraid to share who they voted for? What’s the big mystery? Why all the secrecy?
I mean, if you’re embarrassed about who you voted for, you probably shouldn’t have voted for them. If you’re proud of who you voted for and support them, then you shouldn’t have any trouble sharing.
Everyone’s walking around all meek and mild today when, on any day besides November 2nd, they’d tell you what they think about abortion, the death penalty, and the war in Iraq without even pausing to take a breath. But come election day, when it actually counts for something, everybody acts like it’s a matter of national security.
So, for the record, I voted for John F. Kerry, mostly because I thought he was John F. Kennedy. I’m not scared to admit it. It’s been confusing around here - in MN there’s a Mark Kennedy running for office, and then this John F. guy, and the ads just sort of ran together. But at least I told you.
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Vote, Like, and Stuff
Posted 10:14 PM, Nov 1, 2004 |
Boy, will I be glad when November 3rd gets here. No more political ads, no more rhetoric, no more name-calling — okay, so the name-calling was sort of fun. But no more ads and rhetoric.
Well, okay, so there will still be rhetoric. But no more ads.
I once said if the Shrub is elected again, I’m leaving the country. I don’t think that’s going to happen (that I leave the country, anyway). If MN is ever a swing state again, though, I’m leaving the state.
If only “swing state” meant what we’d all like it to mean. People here would be much happier about the election, regardless of the result.
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