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January 2nd, 2007

Recursive

I'm watching an episode of "WKRP in Cincinnati" that never aired, but it's very much the kind of thing they might have done: Mr. Carlson, in a fit of paranoia about "the rising crime wave" has installed security cameras and monitors all through the station (a la drug store cameras and monitors "for your safety and convenience"), but for some odd reason, they all track Johnny Fever wherever he goes, making him even more jumpy than usual, to the point where doors in the building would magically open so cameras could get a line of sight on him. It was pretty funny stuff.

I woke up from this, in the hospital room that Laurie and I were sleeping in, and tried to tell her about it, but she kept falling asleep and wasn't really listening, and I kept falling asleep in mid-sentence anyway. I was also interrupted by a Latino couple who came in to sweep the floor, empty the trash cans, and replace the sheets. I explained to them that the sheets were fine, thanks, all we really wanted was a little privacy and sleep.

I woke up from this, and realized that I was supposed to go jogging with my agent over lunch and couldn't waste time dreaming about having dreams. I had decided that, since I was house-hunting anyway, I would walk to meet him, so I was walking through the most labyrinthine part of Richmond's Fan District, looking at houses and wondering what Laurie would think of them. The problem was that it was so dark; here it was lunchtime and it was still night out. The fact that all the houses were connected and stacked on top of each other as one giant maze of a building with lots of cramped, hidden recesses added to the gloom. Realizing that time was getting away from me I headed for the bus stop, which was nicely situated to see the beach and the shipyard. But the bus kept not coming and not coming. Since I was close to Carytown, I called my agent on my cellphone and told him I'd meet him at the Carytown Starbucks, but he was rather indignant and said, "I can't go now, John, it's 1:00 already!" I apologized and started to suggest an alternative--

And the alarm woke me up.

I think. 0.o

-Vishnu -The Gneech

Happy Happy

Happy birthday to pocket_entropy! And I missed somebody's birthday yesterday, but I don't know who it was -- so if it was your birthday yesterday, happy birthday to you, too! For your present, here's today's Forgotten English!

practic
Artful, cunning, deceitful, treacherous.
--Edward Lloyd's Encyclopædic Dictionary, 1895


Bank Holiday (Scotland)
Birthday of George Henry Calvert (1803-1899),
American author of more than a dozen books on historical subjects, and a great-grandson of Lord Baltimore. In 1863, he wrote in The Gentleman: "As some of the best things become by perversion the worst -- the life-sustaining air itself carrying, when foul, the largest freight of death -- so honor, whose name is a promise of purity and elevation, is liable to such warp and debasement as to be turned into a shield of vice and forced to entwine itself defensively around dishonor." Calvert narrowed his focus to politicians, concluding, "Men who have betrayed weighty trusts and made shipwreck of honesty cling to a wild, semi-dubious defiance to honor -- or rather to the name -- and challenge its protection with the same right as a pirate would that of a great nation's flag that he had flung out from his topmast in the agony of defeat." Samuel Johnson opined more plainly about false prophets a century earlier, charging, "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

Now I have a mental image of Vinko Bogataj with a hook and eyepatch. Thanks a lot, Calvert!

-The Gneech

Radio Geekboy is On the Air!

Go listen! Right now!

-The Gneech

PS: Even if he IS a punk. :P

PPS: Okay, that's it, show's over, nothing to see here. Please disperse!

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