To Robert Crawford, for the twisted trifecta: Silence of the Lambs SE DVD, a gourmet slow cooker cook book, and a Fiesta Ware casserole dish.
The dogs, they’re nervous.
Thanks also to JHoward for the very sweet multimedia speakers. Now I can listen to my nasally drone in deep rich layers of nasally droniness. Why, I’m almost tempted to start podcasting just so I can listen to myself sounding so awful in such a fine way.
Thanks, too, to SarahW, for the Amazon gift certificate. I used it to buy a reciprocating saw and Dumbo — the latter for me, the former for my son.
Most people would have reversed that, sure. But most people can’t convince their three-year-old son to build them a deck and gazebo while they’re inside, drinking beer and watching cartoons, either.
I’d be remiss, I suppose, if I didn’t thank Iowahawk’s Dave Burge for selecting me as his presidential running mate. I won’t lie: I’m not going to work hard at the job, should the voters make the prudent choice and propel us both into office; but I will promise you this: if I elected, I will not drone on endlessly about global warming as a “moral imperative,” nor will I traverse the globe in wrinkled hemp clothing and man sandals warning of the coming eco-apocalypse like some cut-rate Jeremiah plucked from the stock room at a Berkeley Whole Foods store.
And yes, should Burge run into any “ethics” trouble stemming from the tawdry way we plan to treat both reporters and our palace concubines, I will not hesitate to don an orange hunting vest and pepper a pal’s face with birdshot if doing so will pull media heat off of the King.
As you all know, I’m a giver that way.
Which reminds me. Feel like going hunting, Glenn…?
Finally, thanks so very much to those of you who’ve hit the tip jar recently. I’m still not able to post as often as I’d like — recently, I was able to convince Blogger to pull down one prominent site of teh crazy, only to see it replaced by a new one — so I greatly appreciate your shows of support and encouragement as I continue to battle The Hair That Wouldn’t Leave.
****
update: Oh. And thanks to everybody who contributed to the PW Pub header design contest. I haven’t had a chance to look at all of them yet, so no decision has been made. Right now, I’m thinking I might rotate through them for a while until one really leaves me feeling all tingly.
Hope to have it up shortly so the Pub can go live. Right now, though, my workout regimen tells me I have to try a yoga routine for 90 minutes.
Then I’m supposed to send Richard Gere some canned food for Tibet. But I figure he can get along without me.
Sure you’ve seen this by now, Jeff, but just in case.
Made me think of you for obvious reasons. You sure ain’t alone.
You want my vote? Promise you’ll trade Michael Vick a pardon for a phat Amazon gift certificate.
Other than that, what we got to talk about?
I’m well known for cooking up a great crock abalone.
Vick got $130 million contract for being a coach killer and a lousy QB. Let him bribe me for a pardon. I’m listening.
I’d like to be appointed DCI, please. I have those pictures, remember, and then there’s the eye-witness to a certain hobo-cide in Scranton, 1974. Sound familiar?
But not to worry. He can go away too, if I get appointed.
Just sayin’…
SB effeminate virii
nothin’ personal.
I highly recommend Milwaukee’s Torch blades (for metal) and Ax blades (for wood) for the youngster’s recip saw. I think he’ll appreciate them.
For the casserole, lots of garlic. Should help cover up the gaminess.
Please remember me for an appointment as White House Paramedic in Charge. I’ll start studying up on obscure venereal diseases and creative places to hide Fentanyl patches.
So, that pardon for Vick.
I’m assuming that will happen after accidently kicking the bubbling slow cooker into the White House pool containing El Presidente Burge draped over a donut rubber ducky, passed out from a night of Tia Maria sherberts and Flaming Sambucca’s?
Perhaps I’ve said too much…
“This Job isn’t Worth A Pitcher of Warm Spit” is a fun quote from V.P. John Nance Garner.
“Cause I’m a fiver.
Shoot, missed out on the header contest.
I traded the kid my G5 for an Ifruit (cause I’m stepping up to a fabulomac in the near future) which only has a slightly corrupt version of PS Elements 2.
If you have a grace period I’m sure I’m a contender for “most unsuitable” prize.
Jeff, I’d have gotten you a knife instead of the casserole, but when I saw the prices on the knives you want, I realized if I spent that much on a knife, it was going into my kitchen. Hope you enjoy it all.
Send him some canned smoked oysters. I heard he got the Dali Lama to declare oysters to be vegetables after Mr. Lama lost a bet to him on a basketball game.
TW: murdering Relative Shhhh. Dharma is listening.
yours/
peter.
[…] July 19th, 2007 — curtisschweitzer Although presumably still in the midst of serious personal turmoil via teh Deb, Jeff Goldstein from Protein Wisdom distills the dismissal of the Plame Lawsuit by Judge John D. […]
“Then I’m supposed to send Richard Gere some canned food for Tibet. But I figure he can get along without me.”
Funny … last I talked to Gere, he asked me to send him some Gerbils.