I just found the link to one of my favorite McSweeney’s items. Also, the letter to Peter Criss from Beth had me laughing pretty hard earlier this week.

They produce a quarterly DVD over there called Wholphin which, by the way, has proven to me recently that the Japanese are a LOT more fucked up than I ever originally thought possible … and bear in mind I own a live-action Japanese tentacle porn DVD.

WTF? Was that a scrotum?!

Every breath one takes is a waking up into disjointedness, over and over. - Gregory Maguire

Still want to shoot something. Think there are ways of dealing with the feeling that would be less … primal.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Watched the Hunter S. Thompson documentary this evening.

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

I have the sudden urge to write and/or shoot something.

Now and again - that is when I get a wild hair and/or I am avoiding the other work I need to do - I cook. (I know someone out there just spit a beverage at their monitor, especially if they remember I regularly burned soup when I was a kid.)

Take today, for instance: I have a metric shitload of things to get done in the next four days, so of course I ran to the store before the snow got bad to get the ingredients with which I’ve now wasted my afternoon.

And now, in true avoidance fashion, I’m writing about it. This is not the usual Slack Fu, my friends, this is me claiming membership in the Iduwanna Tribe.

Maybe I just don’t quite know what to do with myself, since I haven’t gotten my yearly flu / strep / bronchitis. This is the week of the year for the past 20 in which I have spent 3 to 5 days in bed and on antibiotics, so perhaps my brain and body are simply set to shut down this week whether I’m sick or not.

Regardless, as the snow is falling AGAIN in Denver and we’re looking at being stuck indoors for ANOTHER 24-36 hours, we now have a small vat of chili to keep us warm for a bit.

Diva’s “Holy Crap It’s Snowing Again” Chili

4 sweet Italian turkey sausage links *
1/2 white onion, chopped
1/2 green pepper, chopped
1 can pinto beans
1 can black beans
1 can Rotel diced tomatoes with green chile **
1 can tomato sauce
1 can water
16 oz. jar of thick salsa, medium flavor ***
garlic powder
chili powder
black pepper

* Substitute any meat you like; I’ve used cubed beef in it, as well as ground turkey.
** I prefer the mild Rotel tomatoes because I’m a wimp … I mean gringa.
*** Territorial House is optimal, but 505 or Pace will do.

The pot serves four with no leftovers … unless you happen to live with a man who’s currently doing bodybuilding in earnest.

There’s an importance to it, I’m told.

Killing your arch-enemy on Christmas Eve - that’s a gift for me?

Smurfs don’t lay eggs! I won’t tell you this again! Papa Smurf has a fucking beard! They’re mammals!

Slept until noon without guilt.

Let go of your own throat, Hank.

So you see, by applying the basic principles of the scientific method to the matter, we learn very quickly that the myth of the chupacabra is just that: Utter crap. Now, if you apply the same principles to Catholicism, an interesting thing occurs …

Got a pristine, 1952 Admiral television / AM radio / phonograph set in the original, cherry wood cabinet, which works as if it were new.

I don’t even feel like taking a whizz on this! I used to DREAM about taking a whizz on this!

No, *I* started it years ago in a moment of passion, and I’ll end it the same way, right here, in front of Brock, H.E.L.P.eR., and God!

Booked airline tickets to London for 10 days in January.

Apparently this is the reward I get for years of screwing with super-science. In short, I pissed in God’s eye - and He blinked.

Nobody cares who would win in a crazy fantasy fist-fight between Anne Frank and Lizzie Borden.

Ate the combination plate and dolmas from Jerusalem Cafe for Christmas dinner.

It’s like he channels dead crazy people!

Oh come on! You’re gonna kill me because I had fake sex on graph paper with a girl who barely spoke to you in real life?

And The Venture Brothers is on television all night long.

It just doesn’t get any better than this.

It’s Diva’s world, you all just live in it.

Last night, as I ate a small spoonful of lemon sorbet, I found myself staring down the darkness again.

Nine years … not quite a decade. And I’d nearly forgotten, except that it was the solstice.

How perfect, Mom, to die on the one pagan day to which I’ve ever paid attention.

Some would say you planned it. I believe that.

I also know the funeral director with the Elmer Fudd lisp was all your idea.

Wewcome to Gween Hiws Mowtuawy; my name is Edwin; how may I hewp you?

I admit, I have been remiss in my posts about my favorite online radio station, Sanctuary Radio. In fact, the last post I made was months ago.

I also have not donated in awhile. I told myself it was because I was busy and trying to get a business up and running, yet I’ve had time to post online and to buy things on eBay. Yep, I suck.

No more excuses. I promise to try to be a better friend of the station from now on. So, in the spirit of the season, I make the following promise:

For each person who donates $20 or more to Sanctuary Radio through December 31st, I will make another $5 donation up to the point the station’s December goal is met ($500).

You’ve always wanted to make me pay, haven’t you? Now you know how.

Put your money where your mouth is, or you ain’t sayin’ nothin’.

You may follow the thread of the following post via this one and this one, if you so desire. As of this post, I am going back to happily following my own advice about comments.

I understand that you have issues and that you feel hurt, but your father - either through direct criminal activity or willful neglect - has been determined, BY LAW, to have taken part in ruining the lives of many people and in damaging my own.

Whether or not your father felt he was guilty, he pled as such. IT IS OVER. There is nothing you can say or do that will change that, here or anywhere.

I can warn others about what has happened to me personally and that is why I chose to write on the subject. The only purpose your comments here can provide is to make yourself feel better. For that, I recommend a therapist … that’s how most people deal with problems involving their parents.

I have been hurt enough from knowing you and your father that I don’t need to hear another word from either of you. Therefore, this is the end of your posts. Go find your resolution elsewhere, instead of with one of the victims, because that is nearly as inconsiderate as your father denying responsibility over our losses.

Good day to you sir.

I said GOOD DAY!

I just finished posting more photos to Yahoo. The non-hubby tried to explain the physics of wind conditions and why our cars are nearly untouched, though the drifts in the parking lot are about 3 feet deep.

Personally, I prefer to think it’s because of divine providence. Either that or we’re just smokin’ hot.

Smokin’!