I got a column done

I just finished writing and submitting a piece for the Journal on a computer with a mouse that doesn't track and a copy of Word that error'ed out and lost the complete first draft. I'm not even sure the attachment was correct, because that was finicky too. Jeez, except for the fact that I was clean, safe, & sitting on my ass, it was one step up from coal mining.

Two Quick Book Reviews

I'm not sure if I've ever read Jeffery Deaver before, so officially, let's count "The Burning Wire" as my introduction to the author. I wasn't blown away, especially by a silly comic book plot masked by a ton of research material, but it was enjoyable for a summer beach read.


Frankly, a large problem I had with the book was the main character of Lincoln Rhyme. I know he's a genius, I know he's a quadriplegic, I know he's beloved by readers. I also know the guy seems like an insufferable ass, and just about every scene where he held center stage was one I regretted. I don't think I'll return to this series.

Still, to be fair, it was a good read and I won't let my personality clash with the lead character influence my rating: B.

Columbine by Dave Cullen is the non-fiction account of the horrific school shooting in April 1999. The book dispels many of the media-driven myths that arose from the carnage (the idea that they were unpopular, bullied outcasts for one) and devotes much of the text to trying to understand the minds of the killers.

I thought this was a great book, start to finish. If there is one flaw it's a misplaced empathy for the second killer (D.K.)*. Yes, he was a depressive and overly sensitive. Yes, he was a follower and easily influenced. He was certainly not the mastermind of the attack. Cullen, like so many others, seems to think that buys him a small shred of sympathy. To me, the opposite is true; unlike E.H, who seemed programmed to kill, D.K. chose his own path.

At any point he could have stopped the attack, simply by speaking out. He could have told E.H. 'no', he could have . . . he could have done everything differently. He didn't. He made a conscious decision to join the plan, unburdened by the madness that was boiling in E.H's head. For me, he may be more liable, morally, than his partner.

A+

* I've always said that tossing the names of killers around gives them the immortality they so often seek. Screw that; the initials will do here.

The Father Hunt by Rex Stout

I finished "The Father Hunt" by Rex Stout today, a mystery centered around a paternity case. Not the strongest of Stout's plots, but otherwise a typical Nero Wolfe mystery - which is to say, a great read.

Goodbye Billy, We Love You 1994? - 2010

For a cat that brought so much joy into our household, Billy's arrival was marked by anger and tears.

I'd only owned one cat before in my life, an old stray named Lucky, and when we put him down we were eager to replace him. As we toured the Humane Society I came across Billy, asleep in a cage. I was furious. Nevermind that even as it ran through my mind I knew the idea was insane; I was convinced this was Lucky, that we'd been lied to and tricked by the vet.

When I calmed down it was easy to see it wasn't the same cat. Oh, they resembled one another, but Billy was younger (only two or three)and his face rounder - he had, in those early days, features that had an oddly Asian appearance. We spoke to a clerk, filled out the paperwork, and were told we could take him home.

And then, as we were getting ready to leave, we were told we were unsuitable to adopt. Some higher up caught wind of the fact we were moving in a weeks time and denied our application. By the time we were 'suitable' Billy would be long gone. I launched an epic fit, as did Lisa, and for no other reason than to shut us up, they rubber stamped the purchase.



Over the years Billy would move with us many times. From 31st Street to 26th; from there to 56th, then on to 23rd, back to 31st and finally to the home we now occupy. If it 'stressed' him out or lessened the quality of his life, it did so without changing his personality or appearance. Start to finish we was a huge, calm, loving cat.

He was never *the* biggest cat in town (at his heaviest he was 22 pounds) but he carried himself lightly, with a spring in his step that was disconcerting to someone who was confronted with his size for the first time. Petite he was not. For all his size, he wasn't much of a fighter; he killed a mouse once on 23rd St, which forever cemented his place in my heart, but he got along fine with animals and humans alike. He resembled a lion, but his idea of a hunt was a search for a warm lap. This was a cat that would come running when you called his name ("BillyBillyBillyBilly, Billllly!", that would knead your belly until you ached, that purred with a loud, deep rumble that left no doubt when he was pleased.

In all the years we shared together he gave me trouble on only two occasions. The second, when he fled in a snowstorm, was documented here. The first was only months into our time together, when he snuck out the window of our second floor flat and jumped to the neighbor's roof. Two, three in the morning, in the middle of a shady neighborhood (26th and Orchard) and I go and knock on a stranger's door and ask them to shoo my cat back towards home.

Oh, I was ticked.

If I'd known then how patient Billy would be with my children in the years to come, I'd have given him a pass for that night. He was with us four years before YaYa was born, but he never once gave in to jealousy when we became parents. William Sonoma would find his way into the cribs of all of my children, and do nothing more than curl up at their feet and keep them company. As they grew into toddlers he was tolerant of their curiosity, putting up with far more than the old man deserved, but never snapping or growing angry. He was so ingrained in their lives that at one point YaYa's Kindergarten teacher approached us about her 'imaginary brother' - they knew she had no brother at that time, but noted she'd often talk about her 'brother Billy'.








In his final years he had a set routine. He would spend the morning and early afternoon on the 2nd floor, napping with our cat Angelcakes. As the kids came home from school he would vanish into the basement, and after bedtime, when the house was quiet, he would emerge to prowl the first floor - and find a kind lap to explore.

About a month ago we noticed he was missing a patch of fur. We assumed one of the kids had tried giving him a haircut, but it was only the beginning. He would continue to lose hair, weight and energy. By a week ago his routine was gone, and his existence confined to the first floor. Last night he soiled himself, and we could deny it no longer; it was time to put him to rest. He himself seemed to know; before I went to bed he walked up to me, meowed once, weakly, then retired to sleep.

This morning, with tears in my eyes, the family (minus Ginger) took him to the Pahle Clinic. All three kids had cried when we told them of our decision. An hour later YaYa was still weeping, and could not stop; Smiley was too young to grasp the situation; Lulu was sad but controlled.

We were given time alone with him, and we all cried openly. When the vet came back to finish the deed she too was upset, with tears flowing down her cheeks. She'd never met Billy, but said it was obvious how great he was by how much he was loved. She injected him as we held and petted him, and a moment later, his eyes still open, he was gone.

They let us take him home, and we placed him in a pillowcase and buried him in the backyard, laying a concrete stone over his resting place. I wouldn't allow the burial to become a 'production', and turned down the kids' requests to include notes or toys, but I let each kid toss a clump of dirt over his body and say goodbye.

We aren't going to replace him. Someday, yes, of course, but we have Angelcakes, and that's enough for now. Billy was with us for fully a third of my life; friends who returned to our lives after a decade's absence were greeted by his familiar purr. Right now, any replacement would feel like a poor substitute, and that's not fair to Billy, to us, and most importantly to the new cat.




Rest in peace Billy. You are, and always will be, The. Best. Cat. Ever.

We love you.

Thanks for all the kind thoughts today. We didn't cxl any of our plans, hoping to keep the kids minds focused away from Billy. Lisa, Smiley and Junie and YaYa went up north to visit friends; LuLu went skating w/ a friend and to a party; I did some yard work, went grocery shopping, wrote, read, and watched baseball. Still, a shitty day.

Congrats to Roy Halladay on his perfect game for the Phillies.

How we Mourned Billy on Facebook

Will most likely say goodbye to my cat Billy today. Anyone who has ever met him, knows how special he is, he has been an awesome cat for 14 years (we got him at age 2/3). He is and always will be the best cat I've ever known, the best in the world. I love you Billy!!! Lisa This morning we put our cat Billy, age 15-16 years, to sleep. Many, many tears to start this day. RIP Big Bill - you were The. Best. Cat. Ever. Angelcakes, our remaining cat, just made a circuit of the house, I'd imagine looking for her friend Billy. She meowed to get my attention but fled rather quickly; sad. On a brighter note, I just watched Corey Hart blast his 2nd homer of the night, a sure HR the second it left his bat.

FB March 17th - 20th

March 17th:

TV quote of the day: I'm jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo - Blanche (Golden Girls)

* A good day so far (knock on wood), but w/ an unexplainable current of anxiety right below the surface. As good as it's been, I think I'll be glad when today is done.

* And the day(light) ends crappy, w/ YaYa having an epic fit outside. One so ghastly I threw her over my shoulder and carried her inside, where her theatrics continued. God Bless my Mom for teaching me to reign in my temper, because I was dang close to losing it tonight w/ YaYa.

March 18th:

* In the dead of night I heard someone mucking around the house and got up to investigate. I found our 2 year old calmly watching TV. "Hi Daddy," she said. I said something less friendly in reply. Hours later YaYa repeated yesterday's tantrum, this time because I wouldn't give her YoGo's for breakfast. Not a good first third of the day.

* California's lame 'happy cows' couldn't even produce the 2nd best cheese in the US; they finished behind WI and Idaho.

* 2nd third of the day: so-so. Smiley & I stood on an overpass and watched a train. Then my friend Tre came over, and we took his boy & Smiley/Ginger for a walk & to the playground. While there news came that LuLu had yet to be found a full *half hour* after school let out; not in extended care, or play practice, or on theplayground. She was found - safe & sound - at a Daisy meeting, but oh man the scenarios in my head!

* Actor Fess Parker passes away. RIP. I had a vinyl single of the Davy Crockett theme song back in the day but, sadly, no coonskin cap.

My 36th Birthday:

We started off the day by taking Smiley to have his cast removed. He'd walk with a noticeable limp for a week or two, but in the end all was well. We did forget to bring a second shoe with us (!) and so had to stop and buy a new pair before we continued our errands. Eventually we wound up at Wal-Mart, where I purchased some socks and shoes for myself. Then, a nap at home. Later, in the evening, we had a cake and the family went out to Vila Roma for dinner. It was a nice, quiet day w/ plenty of birthday wishes on Facebook.

March 20th:

RIP - LBJ aide Liz Carpenter, and JFK Cabinet Member Stewart Udall.

* Sure, I'm 110% worthy of your adoration, but that doesn't mean I'm ungrateful when you express it publicly. So to everyone who took the time to wish me a Happy Birthday Friday - Thank you!

* "Turn the Beat Around' In modern day LA an aspiring young dancer convinces a developer to open a retro disco. Drama ensues w/ her boyfriend, a rival choreographer, etc. An MTV production, the film's look is very Hills-ish, and the lead could easily pass for a Latin Lauren Conrad. Not enough dancing, plot, or skin, but a passable waste of 90 minutes. C.

* Congratulations to Badger wrestler Andrew Howe. NCAA Champion at 165 lbs. Which is roughly the weight of my ego alone.

* [regarding the racial announcement incident at an East Coast Wal-Mart] I can see arresting him for hijacking the store's PA system, I can see hanging him out to dry in the press or suing his Mommy. All well deserved. But cuffing him for "bias intimidation and harassment charges" seems like moronic PC double-talk, and frankly steps on the 1st amendment (remember, this wasn't Wal-Mart or a corporate entity, just some idiotic teenager that grabbed the PA).

* This made me ill, & not for the reasons u think. Michael Brown, who was convicted of murder during a OK robbery in 1975, served 10 years in prison, then escaped & lived on the run for 14 years. He held down jobs, opened his own business, stayed true to a wife he loved, and was a pillar of the community. In the end he turned himself in so he could get proper medical care for his wife's heart. The $ the FBI spent hunting him with MY tax dollars (inc. 'teams' across the country, TV shows, etc) is revolting. There were no more immediate threats to our nations harm to worry about? Or was a guy who turned over a new leaf 'it'?

A Nice Evening

Got home from work, set the sprinkler out in the backyard for the kids, now cooking dinner and reading Rex Stout. A good afternoon/early evening. 

Fed the kids, then took Grace to the mall to get a new remote from Time Warner & somehow got suckered into spending $6 on scented hand sanitizer at Bath & Body Works. We got home in time to see the last 3 innings of the Brewers game and Hart's walk-off homer. Now I'm settling in for a night of Rex Stout and reruns of 'Justified'.

That was crazy, Torchwood

TV show's don't normally scare me - what am I, ten ? - but Torchwood may be the exception. Case in point, the episode 'Countrycide'. How the hell was that shown on broadcast TV, even in the UK? Folks being skinned and eaten for dinner, corpses everywhere - c'mon that was NUTS.

Blockade Billy

Last night I started/finished Stephen King's new release "Blockade Billy", the story of a star MLB catcher that has his records erased forever after he does a little something . . . out of the norm. It also includes the story "Morality". An enjoyable, quick read. B+

From Jordan Knight's twitter account: "Mya and then Nicole, it's gonna be called "Dancing with the Dancers" soon" I agree. It was a great season, but Nicole's a professional dancer, and I think its an unfair advantage given the show's premise.

Rambles

Monday and Tuesday we had contractors in the house. On Monday Lisa minded the store, but Tuesday was my day off, and so I was stuck at home with the kids keeping an eye on the work (aka reading a book cover to cover). The sucky part for the wee ones was that, for safety reasons, they were prevented from going in the back yard or upstairs, and I wasn't leaving the house unattended so they were confined to the first floor all day. But they actually took it in stride, and somewhere along the line Ginger fell asleep on the couch. Even in dreamland, she refused to release her hold on her yellow balloon.



She talks like a champ by the way, and the way she says "OK" is the cutest thing ever.

Later that day LuLu wanted to impress (disgust?) the family by showing us how she could scratch her ear with her toes.



Smiley tried to repeat the trick but failed. Meanwhile YaYa, who is seemingly always in an over dramatic, sour mood lately, was actually happy and smiled for the camera.



I should mention that last week Thursday we grilled out for the first time EVER at our house. Keep in mind we moved in in the early months of 2007, so it was a full FOUR years since we pulled out the grill. I'm not sure why that is; we grilled out constantly at our old flat. I think we were too busy in '07 with the remodel and move to fire it up, and by 2008 it was buried in the shed. Pathetic.

Anyhow, I won't lie and say it went smoothly. It was rather chaotic, with kids running around trying to toss paper into the fire and Lisa claiming that I tried to set her hair ablaze.

That last bit is, of course, categorically mostly untrue.

Oh, speaking of firsts the day before the contractors arrived I finally got around to installing the handle on Smiley's sunlight, which meant he was able to open it and get some air at night!

* * *

Weird how the kids are a mix of their parents. Take the following:

YaYa: my complexion, Lisa's nose and hair. My passion for reading, her Mom's flair for the performing arts. My dramatics, her Mom's temper. A bit of a hoarder. Naturally outgoing but held back by a desire not to look the fool; as most adults know, that's just about a guarantee you'll wind up playing the part. A good sense of humor but sometimes unable to translate that into a joke or prank that 'works'.

LuLu: My gorgeous hair, Lisa's pale, quick to burn complexion. (Lack of) height that seems a throwback to an earlier generation. Sadly, my asthma, but no great love of books, although she's become a heck of a reader. "Not my thing," she told me last week. Very kind, if quick tempered.

Smiley: size from both of us; my complexion, Lisa's hair. Super sweet. Very concerned with eating healthy ("it heal-ty?" he'll ask about *everything*, even though he has a weakness for hot fries). Super diligent about following rules and maintaing social order; at present, on pace to be a cop. Loves being read to and helping cook.

LuLu: my eyes but with Lisa's great blue color; Lisa's hair and nose with a complexion that's a cross between us both. Easily the closest to Lisa in appearance. A known hoarder who often falls asleep with a dozen stuffed animals and as many books; a great love of stories and books like her Dad. VERY very independent and a quick learner; possibly the greatest natural intelligence of the lot.

All of them have my dimpled chin.

* * *

Last week I finished a drainage ditch I was working on and the 70ish neighbor across the alley stopped and asked me if that was to correct for my (downed) gutter, which he bluntly said "looked like shit." I told him truthfully that I'd had trouble getting someone reliable out to do a job with so little income potential. (I don't have a ladder tall enough, nor the interest in learning the job while 20 feet in the air).

He volunteered to do it, having worked construction all his life, and for the rest of the afternoon we rehung the fallen gutter and braced two more. He wouldn't take payment but I did buy him a pack of cigarettes, and he seemed genuinely pleased by how ecstatic I was with the results of his efforts.

Anywho, as we made small talk I asked him how long he'd lived in his house. The answer? Since 1941, when he was two years old. Nineteen forty-one, while the USS Arizona was still afloat and well in Pearl Harbor and Hitler owned half of Europe. Wow.

He went on to say that the neighbor beside him was moving in part because the garage on that house was built to accommodate a Model T and was unable to house anything larger than a compact. Fascinating stuff. Can you imagine how much change he's seen in the neighborhood? And he pays attention, because he remembered the very day my current gutters were hung (before I bought the place) and judged the workmanship poor at the time.

* * *

I'm still stuck with the vivid dreams. As a for instance I dreamnt that I was in Mexico City as a hurricane brewed, and yet the population wouldn't heed my warnings. Fearing it was a language problem I hired a young man as an intepreter, but he simply spouted a poetic version of my words that did little to arouse attention. When the storm hit the city was pulverised.

A moment later I was in a dark hallway with two Skittles vending machines against the wall. A quarter was in both machines, and I remember thinking how grand a gesture that was; how I should pay it forward in the future and brighten someone's day for the cost of mere pocket change.

Then a man appeared out of the blue, and announced he'd released the tiger. Sure enough, behind them a fierce wild tiger appeared.

In another dream I was in a grocery store trying to find/buy some Nutty Bars, and for some reaosn it was a very elaborate process, as if they were illegal to own. Soon I was in a prison that was more like an elaborate dormitory, and there was a crooked and sadistic guard who made sport of some of the prisoners. I tried to avoid him but got into it over - you guessed it - the Nutty Bars.

Sweet stuff huh?

Now I don't read anything into this stuff, and I sure don't believe it to be any reflection of my mental state, so please spare me the psycho-babble.

The bad part of this is my sleep is interrupted quite often; the good part is instead of having six blank hours a night, I now have a mini-movie to look forward to while I sleep. It feels, honestly, like I've gained extra hours in my life.

OK, way too long of a post. Have a good one!

My Thoughts

The only thing worse than fiction that ignores the moral ambiguity of our world is fiction that creates ambiguity where there is none. Sometimes right is right and wrong is wrong, and watching a character struggle with obivous moral decisions doesn't inspire me: it tells me the author is lazy and ignorant of his characters motivations.

A Great Quote from Lost

MIB: Am I [wrong]? They come. They fight. They destroy. They corrupt. It always ends the same. 

JACOB: It only ends once. Anything that happens before that is just progress.

FB March 15th - 17th

March 15th:

* Oscar winning actress Kate Winslet announced her marriage was ending, and I posted that I 'still had a shot'. This was promptly and good naturedly shot down by some Facebook friends. I responded:

Bob (I), here's the plan. Eventually, her career will flounder. By then I'll have had a book or two published, and sold the rights to one to Hollywood. That screenplay will have a part that could ressurect a great actresses career. Sadly, she'll be far down the producers list of options - but maybe I could be convinced to tip it in her favor. Wink wink nudge nudge. ;)

To which he replied: Ah I worship the ground that you walk on Sir. I like your plan and wish you all the best.

and my grade-school friend Tom wrote: A well thought out plan indeed. Good luck on your mission. I myself am still holding out for Kate Beckinsale.

* I received & completed the census form today. We were already subjected to the 'long' form earlier in the yr. Assuming u don't mind answering questions about your race, bills, income, transportation, etc. the long form isn't invasive at all ;) Today's form was easy-peezy, and I'll admit I felt proud listing the whole family. In a weird way, I feel we now 'exist' in history.

* [on word that the museum was thinking of dropping the weekly free day for County residents] Utter crap. As much as I love museums, MPM is dull. Very little of substance has changed in decades, except to remove the wonderful arms/armour exhibit for the PC rain forest area, & that was 20 years ago already. Take away the free day & I'll never take the family; it simply wouldn't be worth the cost. I'll draw the kids a map from memory & call it a day.

* [RE: reports that babies may be banned from airline flights because of noise complaints] My youngest flier was 3, but I've been on flights that included crying tots. Here's what I think of the people who complain about them: Nut up. You're an adult, she/he's an infant whose ears are hurting. You don't like listening to it, buy a f*ing Ipod as-hole.

* NASA found a shrimp like creature swimming 600 feet below the Antartic ice. It's a great discovery, but this line from an article about it "[the shrimp] could challenge the idea of where and how forms of life can survive" seems old hat. Haven't we already agreed that life pretty much exists wherever the hell it wants to?

* The kids are in bed & I'm waiting for Lisa to return before cranking up AI on the DVR. Meanwhile I'm watching "Alone in the Wilderness" on PBS. When he retired in 1968 Iowan Dick Proenneke moved to Alaska, where he lived on his own in the wilderness, crafting everything by hand & filming ala Survivorman. A very cool if mellow film.

March 17th:

* Gawd, American Idol was boring. I'm not a huge Stones fan to begin w/, but most of the 12 seemed bound & determined to make each song xtra slow and shi--y. Siobahn was the glaring and inspired exception, & the night belongs to her. Tim Urban should be voted off the show this wk.

* Tapes of 1954-1962 "General Electric Theater", hosted by [Ronald] Reagan, were believed to be damaged or lost. But they were recently uncovered in the General Electric/NBC Universal archives and will be delivered to Nancy as part of the celebration for what would have been the late Prez's 100th birthday.

* Another backroom deal?? Rep. Kucinich called the bill "little more than a boondoggle" for private insurers, and yet now, after several closed door meetings with Obama, he's changed his mind. A sincere and selfless decision it ain't.

* Detroit is closing 44 of its public schools. However, I should mention this is due to declining enrollement and a lack of students, and so (from a surface reading) it's more of an indictment of the city's overall decline than that of the school system.

* Despite it being a lovely spring day, Ginger is obsessed with wearing her pink snow boots around town, and Lisa's drawn a line in the sand.. "I'm serious, you're not going anywhere unless you put shoes on. There is NO SNOW. You look like a goof. You're making US look like goofs. Take them off. Now!" Good luck w/ that. I caved after 5 min yest.

* Riots errupted and two people were shot in the aftermath of the [Ugandan] royal tomb's destruction. The tombs were a UNESCO World Heritage site of historical and spiritual significance to Uganda.

* On the same day Rangers manager Ron Washington admits to failing a drug test, Nationals' player Elijah Dukes is cut. It's a shame. Dukes was/is a bad-ass w/ a dozen different marks against him, but he sucked it up & held it in check long enough to give himself a chance in TB/Washington. In the end, his #'s just weren't there.

* 12 Christians were attacked and had their tongues cut out in Nigeria, only a week after more than 200 Christians were butchered in their homes. The country is split nearly evenly between Christians in the south and Muslims to the North. If you haven't heard about this, don't sweat it - the media buries violence against Christians in the back pages (when they report it at all).

March 13th thru the Ides of March

March 13th:

* I'm waiting to pick something up off of Craigslist. The last email? "You can come at 11 and pick it up". Yeah, uh, howsabout at some point you give me a phone # or say, an *address* so I can do that.[this was a sewing machine for Lisa. It worked great for nearly a month, then went kaput]

* My intense common sense/demands u stop right there/hearin' bout your missionary style/does not make me smile/no no/I get sweaty as a sauna/when I think of you up on'a/uh-uh/I don't mean to hate/but you ugly folk should masturbate - Danielle Fischel on The Dish

* Finished 'Gone for Good', the first novel I've read by Harlan Coben. It's a good read and a solid page turner. Still, while one twist or turn is great, an endless parade of them (all more extreme than the last) gnaws away at the all important suspension of disbelief. Unless you're watching The Sting. Then it's cool.

March 14th:

* Actor Peter Graves passes away. RIP.

* [re: a hypothetical Pujos-Howard trade] The logic in the article is persuasive, but I don't see it happening. Howard's #'s will fall off a cliff in a few years, and assuming a) you can afford Pujols and b) he's not outed for steroids (hint hint nudge nudge) Albert's the better option.

The Ides of March:

* "I want to be remembered when I'm dead. I want books written about me. I want songs sung about me. And then, hundreds of years from now, I want episodes of my life to be played out weekly at half past nine by some great heroic actor of the age." - Happy International Blackadder Status Day!

* Archaeologists Find 40,000-Year-Old Tools at Tasmanian Construction Site

* TV quote of the morning: "I *do* have oily skin. I'm 30 years old and I still look F---ing 22. 'Cuz I have oily f---ing skin." - Raven on Rupaul's Drag Race

* [on the 25th anniversary of the dot-com] Happy annivesary, you beautiful user-friendly web addy you!

* If word gets out that I'm missing, 500 girls will kill themselves and I wouldn't want them on my conscience - not when they ought to be on my face! - Happy International Blackadder Status Day!

* Good news: Smiley's cast will come off at 9 a.m. on my birthday. Bad news: one of LuLu's fish was obviously dying, and so I fed him to our turtle (circle of life and all). I had Smiley and Ginger say a prayer over him as they were a bit too gleeful over the feeding bit. He was a good fish, nothing more than a 30 cent feeder that's lasted since last May. RIP noble swimmer.

* The Bucks' Andrew Bogut was named Eastern Conference Player of the Week

* Woman aims to become world's fattest

"In order to pay for the enormous amounts of food she is eating — her weekly grocery bill is $815 — Ms Simpson makes money by running a website where men pay to watch her consume fast food." As Lisa said - that's just sad.

TV

We're watching the finale of DWTS, and in particular Kate Gosselin's 'rise to the heavens'. May I just say - WTF??? Lisa and I burst out laughing, as did Tom Bergeron, and probably most of America. Oh Lordy. 

 Nicole won Season 10 of DWTS, and she deserved the title. The whole finale was over the top but fun to watch. OTOH, American Idol sucked. Bowersox's 'Black Velvet' was impressive vocally but she looked (let's be honest) like a clydesdale in that black dress. Yikes. Meanwhile Lee brought his C game at best. Bowersox will/should take the crown of a crappy, crappy season.

Torchwood

I DVR'd a Torchwood marathon on BBC, the first time I've had a chance to see this Doctor Who spinoff. Much darker than Who, but so far the acting and writing are top notch. The negatives? As usual writer/creator Russell T. Davies tries hard to push his personal beliefs on the audience, which always gets on my nerves.

The Little Stranger

Just finished "The Little Stranger" by Sarah Waters, a ghost story set in the countryside of postwar England. Waters is a heck of a writer, and her prose sings. Here's the problem: there are literally ~ 9 pages of action in the 463 pg novel, almost all of it retold by a third party. I suppose the last line of the novel is supposed to 'unlock the secret' of the house, but is it worth the effort to get there?

Lost's finale: A more detailed exploration

I intentionally avoided any details/spoilers about the Lost finale yesterday, but by now you've either seen it, or have no interest in ever taking the plunge. So I'd like to put some of my thoughts down, in part to refute some of the wilder (aka dumber) notions out there. Not that I blame the fans; for once we were treated to a more-or-less straightforward story, with clearly defined cause and effects, and I think some Lost fans just can't change gears at the last moment.

Let's start out simple. I think Desmond was put on the island by Jacob as a weapon, just as Jack said. Destroying the island was a temptation MIB couldn't pass up, and he was too busy relishing the idea to realize disconnecting the source once again made him mortal and vulnerable. It was, to paraphrase Sawyer, a long con.

What was the source? Who/what put it there? We'll never know. Neither did any of the characters, and if they're not complaining, why should we?

Was Jack destined to die? It was his choice to take the job, but there's that gray area of fate/free will again. Knowing Jack, was there any real question who would accept the duty? Was he steered towards the position because he was a better candidate (no pun intended) to physically defeat MIB? Was he sacrificed in order to preserve Hurley's eventual reign?

You tell me. None of it matters. Come to think of it, did anything?

I don't know if letting MIB free would have destroyed our world. Still, I can't imagine it's a good thing to have a cunning, ruthless and violent immortal walk the streets of Topeka. I can empathize with him, to a degree; keep me trapped for two millenia and I'd get miffed too. But oh well. Whatever his motives, whatever Mommy issues he had, he'd grown into a murdering thug. The last thing the world needed was him walking free.

Now, as to the 'flash-sideways'. Yes, it's purgatory, and if that word bothers you because of some 'Papist' connotations, deal with it. They are dead but not in heaven or hell, but rather in a 'holding cell' where they explore and move past the issues that plagued them in our world. In other words, a sort of purgatory.

It is NOT solely Jack's afterlife, where each character could be nothing more than the sum of his memory. Each character is clearly independent of the others; connected by their shared past, but dealing with a full life of their own.

No, this is a communal afterlife. Now I don't know if it's an L.A. created and occupied only by the Lost cast, or if it a larger, general 'world' that the characters borrow as their stage. My money is on the latter. When Christian talks of the cast making a world to find each other, I think he means that the force of their bonds drew each of them into proximity with one another. Their experiences - their 'world' - is fashioned by their need to reconnect.

So what about David, Jack's son? Who pops out a kid in purgatory? I go back to some references this season about how much the boy resembled Jack when he was young. I view him as a surrogate for Jack himself. I think Jack imagined/was given David to work out his issues with Christian and break the Shepard's dysfunctional father/son relationship.

Was the island (and all the events of the series) real? Yes, dangit, didn't you listen to Christian? It was real, so real that the relationships forged on the island transcended death. It was real, there were no do-overs, what happened happened.

Finally, Jack's death scene: I teared up. It was the ONLY suitable ending for the show, and I like how, thanks to Vincent, he didn't 'die alone'. Well done.

Well done indeed.

In

RE: Lost's finale: it makes television history as the first scripted/non-sports TV show to have an episode be simulcast in multiple countries, other than the US and Canada. Italy, Israel, Spain, Turkey and the United Kingdom showing the episode at the same time as the West Coast broadcast in the early hours of May 24, 2010 (5am to 7am, depending on location) in Europe

Ms. Hutchinson

St Adalbert Alumni - Today I ran into Miss Hutchinson for the first time in 20 years. Her hair was cut close to the scalp, with a pencil thin ponytail running down her skull to her shoulders. Not quite the traditional look of a Catholic school principal, eh?

My Opinion

No doubt mold exposure has health consequences, but HGTV is on & the steps taken to contain & remove a *small* amount of mold seem insane. Then a revelation - the contractor started out in asbestos removal. As that biz declined, the owner says they morphed to mold removal & "got the word out about the dangers". Huh. You'll excuse me if I think that translates to "stoked America's paranoia to keep the $$ coming in."

grrrrr

I spent some time w/ a friend before watching Lost, and he p*'d me off by blasting Lost as 'mainstream' (as if that's an insult) and all but an opiate of the masses. Here's what I think: I think anyone who watches 'The Cleveland Show' and literally LOL's at the lame, mildly racist 'comedy' is someone who's opinion on TV matters for shit.