Holy crap! Just learned from Count Chocula's blog that Laura Branigan died. Brain aneurysm. She was a fellow Cancerian (July 3) and only 47. Crap.
Give 'em hell, Zell!
Maria's big Italian family is having its Labor Day reunion on Sunday. Her Amish brother will be there with his outrageously photogenic kids, which means Maria and I will experience the whole event through the viewfinders of our cameras. It occurred to me the last time we visited the Amish brother and his family that we spend very little time socializing with the adults. We escape from the grownups as quickly and as graciously as we can, grab our cameras and usually come home with at least 300 digital photos of the kids. Fortunately, there are lots of other grownups there, so maybe our absence isn't that conspicuous.
I raised the possibility of leaving the cameras home for one of these visits, but the prospect of missing all those great shots is just unthinkable.
I see Bill Clinton is having heart surgery. How convenient. That will limit his ability to campaign for Kerry, but then Hillary's game plan to run in 2008 hinges on Kerry losing this year.
Driving up the interstate yesterday afternoon, I glanced over at a row of duplexes along a frontage road and was startled to see the Confederate battle flag flying over the U.S. flag on a front yard flagpole. I can't even guess what message that is supposed to send, but it's sure to piss a lot of people off. I considered calling the sheriff's department to give them a heads-up that the people living there might be needing protection from irate passers-by. But then I decided it would be more interesting to stay out of it.
People are starting to comment covetously about my yellow Lance Armstrong Foundation "Livestrong" wrist band. It seems they're in huge demand because of the exposure they got during the Tour de Frog and the Olympics and the LAF can't produce them fast enough. They're supposed to go for a $1 donation, but I've seen them trading on Ebay at $14 and more. I have an extra, still in the package, if someone is really really desperate...
My friend Susan in Palm Coast, Fla., has decided to stay put and ride out Hurricane Frances. I think that's a desperately stupid decision, but I hope I'm wrong. We'll know who's right come Monday.
My wife still hates my Treo 300 palm pilot/cell phone.
I've been trying to access my account information on www.sprintpcs.com and the site has been down all day. What's up with that?
Did you know that Sprint was originally an after-hours long-distance phone network that utilized the Southern Pacific Railroad's communication network during off-peak times? I had an account with them back around 1977 or '78.
I went to college in town that was famous for gambling and prostitution. The Saturday Evening Post did an expose on the town in the '50s, calling it "Sin City." By the time I got there in the fall of 1963, it was still a pretty randy place and there were at least a half-dozen houses of prostitution within 5 blocks of campus. One night a fraternity brother and I were walking past one of the storefont brothels on our way to McDonald's when a black prostitute hailed us with, "Is your moojie winkin'? Do you wanna do it?"
We can still crack each other up with that line.
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