The white spots have arrived, signalling the beginning of my annual case of strep…
I know there has to be at least one doctor reading this: wanna provide an uninsured web guy with a prescrpition for Erythromycin via email tonight, saving me from a day of pain and a hugely unpleasant trip to the South of Market Health Center tomorrow afternoon? I’ll make it up to you…
Disclaimer: I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass who Elton John sings with, especially when a joke like the Grammys is involved. That said, I found this article really annoying…
Neva Chonin, in all her squishy California sensitivity, completely misses the point. Of course Eminem is controversial. Of course a lot of people are complaining about his lyrics. Of course the moral outrage is flying free. And no amount of whining about “homophobia” and misogyny are going to change the fact that you just can’t get better publicity than this…
“Eminem…would be so much greater if he’d remember that those who need his voice most are the victims, not the victimizers.”
Wow, Neva. That one must have hit the poor kid pretty hard. Them’s fightin’ words…
You don’t fight a bully by saying “your actions are having a detrimental effect on my self-esteem”. He knows he’s not showering you with kisses. Poor Neva seems to believe that if she, GLAAD, and assorted women’s groups will just keep chanting “homophobia” and “that’s so hurtful” loudly and frequently enough, Eminem will have a miraculous moment of catharsis and apologize for his wicked ways…
It ain’t gonna happen. Eminem knows just what he’s doing and who he’s pissing off. And I suspect that he’s rather enjoying it. Face it: his target audience does not consist of middle-aged white liberals or Lesbian feminists. His audience is largely comprised of teen-aged white boys. He could sing “kill the faggot” à la Elmer Fudd and not forfeit one per cent of his profits…
You might as well try to get an intelligent and reasoned response out of Howard Stern…
I’m inclined to say “ignore him and he’ll go away” in this case. Some disagree. Maybe they’re right, but I can’t convince myself that all this whiny “ooh, you’re so mean and hateful” crap will do anything but provide lots of laughs for Eminem and his admirers…
Why is is that when I’m sick and too contagious to do anything about it, I am overtaken by the most raging libidinous urges and want to screw everything that moves? I guess it means I’m getting better, despite the fact that I’m not allowed to touch or breathe on anyone for another 36 hours or so…
I’ve finally booked my Christmas trip to my sprawling hometown. Yes, I know that it’s February, and that it will be April by the time I get there, but I’m running a little behind, OK? I’m very much looking forward to being somewhere that’s not San Francisco…
Side trip plans abound. To start with, I’m driving to San Diego and flying from there. In addition, I’m thinking of hitting both Atlanta and DC for a few days each, with assorted stops on the way…
Even better, I think I’m officially no longer contagious…
I’ve been in a mildly unpleasant, uncertain, and anxious frame of mind all month. Fortunately (or unfortunately) I’ve been way too busy to pay much attention to it, what with lots of work, random visitors, and one minor communicable disease. Now I’m caught up on work and have a full weekend with no real plans to speak of. I’m almost dreading it, for fear I might start dwelling on every little thing that’s nagging at me right now…
And no, I’m not going to bore you with any of this right now. I’m also not going to promise that I wont do so later. But you can always change the channel…
I will, however, say that it has to do with the fact that I seem to have eliminated all the high and lows in my life for one comfortably monotonous mid-range. And I’m a little concerned that I’m not a little more concerned about this…
Dinner tonight at the Dead Fish in Crockett with Dan, Dan’s mom, and Jamie. We all took my mom there last fall when she was here for a visit too. And we really should eat there more often without waiting for semi-annual parental visits. You should too…
I just got my Sears Gold Mastercard in the mail today. Funny thing is, I never REQUESTED a Sears Gold Mastercard. Anyhow, it’s got rental car insurance, so I’ll probably keep it…
I learned a lot about credit cards in my early 20’s. Mainly that I shouldn’t use them unless it’s an emergency or I mail in a check for the amount owed as soon as I get home from wherever I bought whatever I bought…
Speaking of which: did anyone else have a Choice Card back in the 1980s? If so, it probably means that you (a) are over 35, and (b) learned a lot about frustration from trying to find places that accepted the damned thing…
Updated: Yer Humble Host at a Glance.
Themes from the past weekend: work, home, nice boy, performance anxiety, 1984, Rolling Rock, sore shoulders, 99-cent double cheeseburger, earthquake, Spellbound.
It’s going to be a long month. Three sites in mid-redesign, one starting from scratch, one porn series in mid-bang, and a mad rush to finish it all before taking a three-week vacation in April. I probably won’t be very chatty for a while. And I’ll probably be cranky when you hear from me at all. Don’t say you weren’t warned…
Yeah, like I’m ever NOT cranky…
Actually, I was almost giddy a few minutes ago. I’ve made an important discovery: an entire block on a South of Market alley with NO PARKING RESTRICTIONS. None. No time limits, no curbs of any color, no residential permit requirements, and (get this) no street cleaning…
In theory, I could legally leave my car there until the end of time. Or until the Department of Parking and Traffic catches on. Which will be soon, I imagine, as this is likely one of the only streets in the whole damned city where parking is completely unregulated…
And no, I’m not revealing the location….
In case anyone was wondering, I’m still here. More soon…
OK. Where was I?
Juan Felipe was here on Friday, which made for a more entertaining than usual afternoon. We ate lunch. We walked around in the Mission. We talked about our parents. I like him. I knew I would somehow…
Photos above are from my new favorite Italian restaurant in Oakland. They’re there because I like the place, because I love the grape chandelier, and because I don’t really have too much else to say today other than that it rained this weekend. A lot. I just sort of watched it, which is probably why I feel so groggy today. Who says you have to get drunk to have a lost weekend?
Random unrelated thing I don’t understand today: why will a guy who has no problem letting you spooge in his mouth shy away from a friendly kiss afterward?