Mayonnaise (and other cryptic references).

So while the baby naps, I’m going to throw in a DVD and try to fall asleep watching it. Today’s selection: The Eiger Sanction. Which reminds me: Q: What do you get when you cross John Kerry and Clint Eastwood? A: An enormously wealthy Oscar™-winning director and celebrated cultural icon who doesn’t stand a chance in hell of winning the 2004 Presidential election. Or Marty Sheen.

I’m looking to buy an external hard drive for my laptop (sorry, for my “portable desktop”) so that I can edit and store digital video files. The only problem is, I don’t know what I need. I was also thinking about running image editing software like Fireworks or Photoshop from the external drive. Advice? Recommendations? Warnings? Anyone…? And yes, I plan on making porn, so y’know, try to hurry it

…which, of course, is a lot like cheese defending a rat. Or vice versa. [via Wizbang]

A simple exercise in democracy, those Spanish elections. No more, no less. Right? Yeah. Whatever.

…The new phonebooks are here, the new phonebooks are here! Okay, not really. But still.

I have 30 of ’em. About 15 others I really should pick up. But c’mon, Nothing to Lose…? I’d rather watch Jim Treacher watching a “Mr. Show” marathon. If he’d have me, I mean.

I’ll admit, I’m obsessive about clutter. In fact, it’s gotten so I can’t get anything done until, say, loose papers on the coffee table are neatly stacked or the magazines we keep in the john are smoothed and stored chronologically in the cast-iron magrack. My wife, on the other hand, is a free-wheeling clutter mole, a beautiful hurricane of misaligned envelopes and floor-kept newspaper circulars, of clipped coupons, empty boxes,

“Who is the unilateralist candidate for president this year, the man who’s willing to push our allies away and who questions the patriotism of those who disagree with him? That would be John Kerry, at least on the issue of trade,” argue Cesar Conda and Stuart Anderson in the March 29 issue of The Weekly Standard: Kerry may like to portray himself as a multilateralist, whom foreign leaders are secretly

Here’s how you know your politics have pitched a bit to the right: you’re enjoying a plate of Gino’s Pizza Rolls, watching an early episode of “M*A*S*H,” when suddenly you realize that just about everything Larry Linville says makes sense — and that, given the opportunity, you’d happily bend Alan Alda over a butcher’s table and thwack his self-satisfied ass about a thousand times with a rolled up poster of