Thought That Came Unbidden

One thing living in a tourist destination teaches you is that no matter what language someone is using, yelling into a cell phone in a public place is always rude.

Welcome to April in Washington.

Am I the only one who finds it more than marginally ironic that Don Imus’ comment about the Rutger’s women’s basketball team is getting more play in the media than the NCAA Women’s basketball playoffs themselves got?

I had to buy a sympathy card today. Fuck I hate that.

Not only do I hate it because it means someone I care about is going through something that I can relate to but do nothing to help with I also hate it because no commercial sympathy card ever expresses quite the right sentiment.

Maybe it’s because I’m not a Christian and I can’t relate to the concept of prayer being a source of comfort. It might be because I’m sensitive enough to know that the death of someone you care for is never monochromatic, neat, or easily packaged. What happens, I always ask myself, if my friend receives this well meant expression of feeling on a day when she’s totally pissed off at her mother for dying? ’cause I know what I want when I’m pissed off is a whole bunch of mass-produced treacle designed to “comfort you in your hour of sadness.”

What happened to the nice photograph on the front and “with deepest sympathies” on the inside? When did we stop being able to express our own emotions and start needing to lean on some anonymous writer in Kansas City to do it for us?

I guess the price of getting older is having to do this more often. It’s still better than any of the alternatives.

This is my front garden on the 7th of April at 9am EDT (yes, Eastern DAYLIGHT Time).

And once again I say: I object to the term “global warming” as being not fully descriptive.

Given that I’m significantly closer to 40 than I am to 17 is it unreasonable for me to be happy that I got carded when I bought a “rated M 17+” video game at Best Buy today?

It was probably the hat.