junk not spell-checked

I’m debating with myself right now whether or not I should go to the bar. It’s 9:10 right now. The bar special, the one I like, the one that allows me to drink 20 ounces of Bass and Guinness for less than $3, starts at 10:00. I rarely take advantage of it, since it only runs Monday through Thursday nights and I usually have to work Monday through Friday, but I’ve decided to take tomorrow off. I looked at my schedule this morning and saw that it would be another two months before I could take a day off, so I decided to do it. I was lucky, I didn’t have any meetings planned.

So, tomorrow I will sleep late and then get about the business of designing Ypsilanti t-shirts. (I will also, if I get a chance, get to writing some of the several things Ive promised in the past but havent delivered, like the update on Operation Whitney Lover, and my notes on the Arianna Huffington lecture.)

Jennifer just sent me a link directing me to a page where I found Japanese figurines of women in the act of shitting. Once again, I’ve decided to draw that line, the line across which I will not go, even in this cesspool of the internet. No, there will be no large-eyed porcelain schoolgirls caught with huge turds snaking out of their asses and there will be no fully-tattooed penis dragons. As much as I appreciate being sent these strange and wonderful things, they will stay in my private collection, along with the topless photo of the reader that was sent in some six months ago… I want for this site to be a safe place for kids to come after school.

I watched Survivor tonight, for the first time in the past few months. The deaf woman got voted off and she cried. She was too smug going into the tribal council. She thought that she was the swing vote, the person who could decide who would be leaving that evening. She was wrong. It was sad.

Survivor is not as good as Manor House was. Manor House was great TV. PBS somehow finds ways to make reality TV less dirty-feeling. There’s still sex and back-stabbing, but it’s all done under the pretext of historical re-enactment. Brilliant… All MTV can think to do is to keep digging toward the bottom of the Real World barrel, finding skankier girls who are willing to do progressively more carnal things with larger numbers of people for their fleeting shot at fame. It’s sad too.

Lots of stuff is making me sad tonight, I guess.

Maybe I will go to the bar.

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