Your attention, please. protein wisdom has not been issued press credentials for the Democratic National Convention. Which is fine by me, because I can report from any place at any time that Ted Kennedy is drunk, drooling, and goosing a horrified cocktail waitress — and I stand an excellent chance of being correct. Proximity is overrated. And Michael Moore loves peanut butter cups.
July 12, 2004
protein wisdom: the notice
Your attention, please. protein wisdom has not been issued press credentials for the Democratic National Convention. Which is fine by me, because I can report from any place at any time that Ted Kennedy is drunk, drooling, and goosing a horrified cocktail waitress — and I stand an excellent chance of being correct. Proximity is overrated. And Michael Moore loves peanut butter cups.
July 12, 2004
John Kerry offers Teresa Heinz Kerry a grilled cheese sandwich
JK: “Can I bring you a grilled cheese sandwich, dear?” THK: “I don’t even understand what that is, this grilled whatever it is you called it. Now leave me be and send in Kiko would you? It’s time for my foot massage.”
July 12, 2004
Seventh in a series of real-time empirical observations
As you read this, Scott Baio is sitting in an Applebees in El Segundo, CA, enjoying a blackened chicken salad and thinking, “Y’know, for all it’s faults, Zapped! has a kind of crazy genius to it. Which, now that I think of it, Willie Aames still owes me $30, the fat little bitch.”
July 12, 2004
Cultural semantics: an anniversary
I don’t mean to quibble, but disco didn’t die so much as get a little too coked up and sloppy on Dom, then stumble off to a dimly-lit nightclub bathroom, where it wildly banged six spindly polyester Lotharios and a biker chick before passing out naked on the floor with a pair of $20 bills and a champagne flute crammed in the coochie. That’s more humiliation than “death,” technically speaking.
July 12, 2004
Cultural semantics: an anniversary
I don’t mean to quibble, but disco didn’t die so much as get a little too coked up and sloppy on Dom, then stumble off to a dimly-lit nightclub bathroom, where it wildly banged six spindly polyester Lotharios and a biker chick before passing out naked on the floor with a pair of $20 bills and a champagne flute crammed in the coochie. That’s more humiliation than “death,” technically speaking.
July 12, 2004
Overheard in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, 8:13 am., July 12
Hatless man: “Hey. That’s my stuff. Don’t.” Man in cowboy hat: “That’s yours ?” Hatless man: “Yeah.” Man in cowboy hat: “Well…can I maybe have some, then?” Hatless man: “No. And stop touching it, would you?” Man in cowboy hat: “Fine, whatever… Geez…” Hatless man: Man in cowboy hat: “…So you’re pretty protective of your stuff, huh?” Hatless man: Man in cowboy hat: “…Probably still pissed at me for sleeping
July 12, 2004
Overheard in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, 8:13 am., July 12
Hatless man: “Hey. That’s my stuff. Don’t.” Man in cowboy hat: “That’s yours ?” Hatless man: “Yeah.” Man in cowboy hat: “Well…can I maybe have some, then?” Hatless man: “No. And stop touching it, would you?” Man in cowboy hat: “Fine, whatever… Geez…” Hatless man: Man in cowboy hat: “…So you’re pretty protective of your stuff, huh?” Hatless man: Man in cowboy hat: “…Probably still pissed at me for sleeping
July 12, 2004
DNCC to non-Democrats: So?
Personally, I’m not surprised at all. I mean, this is the DNCC, for Chrissakes. It’s not like they haven’t dropped plenty of “we’re a bunch of shifty, powerhungry, backstabbing weasels” hints over the past three years, right? Shit. Read the herbal tea leaves, people.
July 12, 2004
DNCC to non-Democrats: So?
Personally, I’m not surprised at all. I mean, this is the DNCC, for Chrissakes. It’s not like they haven’t dropped plenty of “we’re a bunch of shifty, powerhungry, backstabbing weasels” hints over the past three years, right? Shit. Read the herbal tea leaves, people.