Perhaps it takes that shining beacon of truth, that we call comedy, to cast it's omnipotent light into the dark, dank nether regions of our current administration, before it's sheep-like followers might dare conjure even a hint of doubt and take an honest glance inward. With that in mind, I give you... the Bush Administration in CliffsNotes form.

While I disagree to San Francisco being “the greatest city in the world” (or even in California for that mater), I will admit it looks pretty sweet in Jello…

Some local notes about SF… folks here hate it when you call it “Frisco”… so naturally I always do. And in the Valley, Silicon Valley (Junction… Peticoat Junction), when they say “the city” they mean SF, leaving “downtown” to mean San Jose. And yes, I know the way to it.

A public service announcment from the late Mr. Bill Hicks.

It’s funny what you remember… In 1977, my little 9 year old brain delivered it’s first profound thought–”the 70s suck”. A few years later, I remember making a mental note (obviously, successfully) that that particular October 8th was the worst day I’d yet had on this little rock and in the future, I would be holding a grudge against it. Well it is time again for another of these epiphanies…

Though I usually prefer the odd numbered years, I must say that 2005 has officially and totally sucked ass. I mean sure… we had some giggles here and there but I’m talking on the whole. And I’ve been one of the fortunate ones! I am not alone in this thought either. This cursed year of the monkey has been pelting us all with it’s moist scat from the get-go.

I had originally nabbed this clip because I think it’s funny. I’ve been running my own personal Scrubs marathon while 2005 is shown the door. Ironically though, the clip casts a foreshadow (yes! stick that in your pun and smoke it!) for my 2006 resolution.

And now, I will begin consuming diuretics by the fistful so that I might have a proper stream when I piss on 2005’s grave. RIP 2005… you son of a bitch!

25 years ago today John Lennon was murdered in front of his home.

Happy birthday to my fellow Sagitarians, born today…

• Christina Applegate
• Joe DiMaggio
• John F. Kennedy Jr.
• Rock Hudson
• John Larroquette
• Ricardo Montalban
• Barbara and Jenna Bush

Oh, and also, Happy Gazpacho Soup Day too?

Google is testing out a new service they’re calling Click-to-Call which offers the following:

“…gives you a free and fast way to speak directly to the advertiser you found on a Google search results page – over the phone.

Here’s how it works: When you click the phone icon, you can enter your phone number. Once you click ‘Connect For Free,’ Google calls the number you provided. When you pick up, you hear ringing on the other end as Google connects you to the other party.”

Folks on Slashdot seemed really excited about this but… uh… I didn’t get it. This seemed like a really stupid idea to me… but I like to be thorough so I followed a few links, hoping to discover a side to this that made it… well… less stupid. Nope, this is just stupid… but the creepy thing was, everyone else seemed really excited about this too.

Now don’t get me wrong–lots and lots of great things began life as a stupid idea. I applaud smart people pushing technologies without obvious usefulness. Technology needs these trailblazers. But I do intend to mock those who seem to think this has the stench of genius–most of which are either in marketing or overeager bloggers desperate to break a story.

Excellent work y’all! No, really… top notch.

Sorry about the headline but since fear tactics work so well on the majority of you, I’ve decided to employ them for the common good. You MUST stop using Internet Explorer! It is insecure, inaccessible and, incontinent. If you are not already using Firefox or Safari or some other browser, please download one of these immediately and show those terrorist bastards that you value a little thing called liberty and stuff! I beg of you… I beseech thee… please with sugar on top… I’ll be your best friend.

From the moment I awoke this morning, my stomach was sending me hints. The hints eventually turned to demands… eggs would be necessary this morning. And knowing better than to disappoint him (yes, my stomach is male), I set off for my favorite diner.

I hadn’t gone out for a proper breakfast in some time. This is mostly due to my single-ness I suppose… I had even intended to bring a book to read to kill the time between sitting and paying. It turned out to be dumb luck that I forgot to bring one.

Being single does have some advantages. With a line out the door of people waiting for a table, I casually walked right past them and took a seat at the counter. I sat next to my single brethren and sister-en whom where all busy eating or watching the TV mounted to the wall behind the counter or reading the book they had remembered to bring. While my waitress failed to notice she had one less vacant chair, I was eyeing the multitude of plates being pushed from the kitchen–each seemingly heaped with more egg-tastic goodness than the last. My stomach insisted on three changes of mind before I actually ordered… as it turned out, today I would discover Eggs Florentine.

Oddly, for thirty plus years, Eggs Florentine had been known to me by name alone. I had no idea they were just Eggs Benedict with some spinach stuck in there. Something new everyday… Well, with my order placed, book-less and not interested in TV without audio (though it was Wolf Blitzer… and the lack of audio seemed an improvement really), I began one of my favorite pastimes… people watching.

The counter in a diner on a Sunday morning is something to see. It’s like a feeding frenzy back there! I sat and watched the waitstaff become a blur of Hawaiian shirts and black pants as they taxied the stacks of plates off to their next destination. The cooks, in classic, crisp, white chef-coats, provided a constant beat of clanking, pounding, hissing and whisking noises. Quick and precise movements obtained through excessive repetition–elbows and shoulders bumping to prevent full-on collision–chatter, seemingly (and in some cases actually) in a foreign language, leaving only tone and volume as hints to their meaning. As I took it all in it occurred to me how similar to a stage this counter was–the waitstaff and cooks so much like actors and musicians–together, performing a highly choreographed play. And myself, just another member of the paying audience.

Then suddenly my meal appeared. It actually startled me. I realized then how much I had been enjoying the “show”.

Oh, and Eggs Florentine… yummy.

“I watch too much TV… I be on the couch for months and I only leave the house when I’m outta blunts…”

Stinkarelli was apparently “feeling me” when writing this… though we seem to have taken different approaches to solving our problem.

For me, a while back, I decided I’d had it with TV so I called Comcast and told ‘em to turn it off. It took them a few days to actually have the guy out and cut the wire but then it happened. I came home from work, clicked the button and low and behold… glorious grey static!

I was actually pretty excited about it and have to say it’s been pretty nice. No more paying through the nose for the privilege of watching a bunch of crappy commercials with only a token garnish of actual content (which itself is 98.7 percent shite). I’m finding new, interesting and absolutely more productive things to do with my newfound time. What the hell was I thinking? I now find myself holding down complete thoughts, speaking in complete sentences and I’ve seen a sharp rise in overall attention span.

Now don’t get me wrong… I’m still shelling out plenty of cash for internet access. Poor little Comcast will be doing just fine off of me and should sleep very well at night with the knowledge that, though they are now only sucking half the amount of money from me, I am still very much their bitch.