Baz Luhrmann -- "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen) (Edit)

Somehow I made it through the '90s without ever hearing this song. And somehow I almost made it through the '00s as well, until last night. But now I've heard it and looked it up and I see it made it to the top 50 in the late '90s. I listened to the radio even less then than I do now, so that explains it.

I only heard it now because I got the CD "Now That's What I Call Music" #2 and it's the last track. I put all the songs on my Ipod and was listening last night and it came on. When I heard the spoken voice I was thinking "Nooo! This can't be happening." But when it got going I was hearing some interesting stuff, almost like self-help things in a very wry way.

Looking up the song since then, I notice it has a strange history, but I can't remember every detail. Something about people thinking Kurt Vonnegut wrote it, then it turned out to be a newspaper columnist, then the track was read by someone other than the artist on the record, who turns out to be a famous director, etc.

Also, there are a few different versions. The one on "Now" is called "Edit," just over 5 minutes long.

Well, as it turns out, when I saw the album covers inside the "Now" CD, I actually have the original CD on which the full version of this song can be found, "Baz Luhrmann Presents Something For Everybody." There it's called by the same title except for the word "Mix." It's also over 7 minutes. I didn't buy the CD new but it's one of those ones that I periodically buy at Goodwill just because it looks interesting at the time. But I never listened to it.

This CD is one -- I might have mentioned it before -- that I saw at Goodwill and didn't buy. Then I came home and was moving some CDs and noticed that I'd bought one at Goodwill before. So I was happy that I didn't end up with two copies! Today I listened to a piece of it and heard part of the difference, that there's a vocalist after the first couple minutes. I stopped there.

Here's something weird. When you put this CD (the "Baz Luhrmann Presents... one) in when iTunes is running, it comes up with the artist as Tara Morice and the title as "Time After Time [The S.F.E. Version]". I don't know what that's all about.

Save your love letters and don't listen to people who berate you. Don't read beauty magazines because they'll make you feel ugly.

Obama And The Troops

It was a delight to see President Obama addressing the troops. Finally, a commander in chief who has the well being of the troops at heart. Finally, we can believe what the commander in chief is saying, that he's not simply out to get a lot of people killed for ideological reasons. On these accounts, Bush was 100% guilty. He was a criminal.

But now ... how did we ever get so lucky? ... We have a feeling, compassionate, intelligent, honest president ... and the difference is clear!

Watching the entire speech today, in which the president announced the timetable for the completion of the Iraq war, was inspirational. This would be the time to enlist if ever there was a time. Your children aren't simply cannon fodder for the heartless, thoughtless Republicans.

It was great to hear him make such coherent points. The man has some reflective capabilities, and he has them in rich abundance. Obama compared to Bush is like a breath of fresh air compared to the filthiest stench I can imagine. How could two men be so different? Obama, like a genius, a humanitarian. Bush, a moron, complete and total garbage.

Do I Have To Be What I'm Looking For?

I don't want to be what I'm looking for on the internet. Because I already have what I have within me and if I write it, it doesn't do me any good to read it.

I keep looking for what I want to read. More or less this, a spiritual, eccentric, level-headed, funny, winking, humane blog that's regularly updated, by someone quirky yet not insane, someone earnest yet not trite, someone feeling yet not sentimentally sick. Is there such a thing?

I like looking at spiritual blogs, always hoping, but they tend to reek of conventionality, or unconventionality that's too far out of my range. I'm giving up hope.

Sexy Three Stooges

I was watching a Three Stooges film today, Matri-Phony. It's set back in the days of the Roman Empire. The emperor's name is Octopus Grabus, played by Stooge regular Vernon Dent.

Octopus has very bad eyesight. He has really thick, Coke bottle glasses. His love interest is a young lady named Diana, who, for reasons I can't think of right now, doesn't want to be with him. So Curly masquerades as Diana.

Curly is in women's clothes, and it's about time for Octopus to come in and romance him. Moe tells Curly to get "sexy." That seems pretty risque for the days of the Three Stooges. But there's a lot of boys kissing boys and dancing with each other in the Stooges' films. And of course the Stooges are frequently enamored with women of the opposite sex as well.

Octopus's glasses get broken and of course he doesn't recognize Curly as a big fat man instead of his curvaceous, beloved Diana.

Dogs Don't Enjoy Food

I watch our dog all the time, her ways, her expressions of instinct.

There are things I can do that set her off, making her think someone's at the door, in the yard, that an animal or some unknown visitor is out there. She's constantly watching me at these times, alert to any signal for attacking. Ever vigilant.

One of the things that becomes clear upon attention is that she doesn't enjoy food. She likes to have it, of course, and wants it desperately. But all she wants to do with it is consume it, the faster the better. We give her a jerky treat or something like that and she dashes off to the other room with it -- lest anyone get it -- and swallows it barely without chewing.

I'm thinking the instinct comes from competition for food, where they want to fill their belly as fast as they can before some other dog takes their portion. But it's a heck of a way to be. Gulp!

Bing Bing Bang

There's no end to tasks, challenges. But it's always better to face them head on, get them arranged in some logical order, then bing bing bang, work through them steadily till they're accomplished.

I'm like anyone else, sometimes, the things that can be postponed, let them go by for a while. But when the time is approaching when they need to be done, then to be goal- or task-oriented is, to me, the only way to live. Get them accomplished, 1 2 3 ...

The big worry is to sit here and have family trying to accomplished tasks, especially if I have some role in paying expenses, which happens once in a while, more often than it should. Anything could go wrong, like with renting moving trucks, getting leases filled out, getting rent paid, etc. There can be no end to it. But when an end, even a tentative end, arrives, it's a nice feeling. You did it!

Now it's evening. It's been a day like that, with my own tasks and those of family. I feel like a reluctant manager. I'd rather be on a desert island sometimes, but even then there'd be the various tasks related to survival. It's not all just drinking beer like on beer commercials.

There Was A Crooked Man

I thought there was a rhyme about a crooked man with a crooked stick. Maybe not. There's this:

There was a crooked man
Who walked a crooked mile.

But that's something different.

Today I had to go to the hospital to visit and bring home a loved one. It's a pleasant task for many reasons, not the least of which is the interminable wait they subject you to. I think they learn that in medical/nursing school, how to walk, talk, phone, and do everything very slowly. Then at the end of course it is vital that they take your vitals again. Slowly. Finally, dear loved one, go for the car, to which another nurse will wheel out the patient.

That happened today, mostly just like that. Then at the very last second, just as I was about to pull the car into place, I had to smile because of this old guy suddenly coming across the parking lot. He was a crooked man with a cane that had one of those weird bends in it.

There was a crooked man
Who had a crooked stick.

And I saw him walking along, not exactly in a crooked way, but if I crooked my head a bit and squinted, perhaps I could say he indeed was walking in a crooked way. May as well. Who would know?

This actually was the one thing about my visit to the hospital that I enjoyed. Because I was thinking of the issues of timing, how perfect it was, that to hold me up that final few seconds it would have to be, inexplicably, a crooked man walking with a crooked stick.

Too bad I couldn't put it all together with another rhyme, but this would be totally false:

There was a crooked man
With a crooked curl, right
in the middle of his forehead.

Medicare

Just was reading about Obama's first budget. I like this paragraph, from the Washington Post:

Administration officials also are debating whether to permit people as young as 55 to purchase coverage through Medicare. That age group is particularly vulnerable in today's weakened economy, as many have lost jobs or seen insurance premiums rise rapidly. The cost would depend on whether recipients were offered a discount or required to pay the full price of coverage.

That's not much to go on but I like the general idea. Insurance premiums are crazy, beyond crazy. It would be so much better to have some expansion of Medicare to help pool costs or whatever. When you're old you're a slave to the insurance companies and their whims. It's ridiculous. Just because time passes doesn't mean premiums should naturally go up and benefits go down.

The Truck From Ho Land Is Here

A fresh shipment just came in! The sign was missing an L. It caught my eye.

8½

I just finished watching the film "8½," by Federico Fellini. I've been watching it in pieces all week, since that's the time I have, and finally finished it just now, because it's almost due at the rental place.

It's always listed as a great classic, and indeed it is. The staging, direction, presentation of scenes ... practically every scene is awesome, with people moving about in a kind of purposeful harmony or disharmony. Scenes are shot as symbolic moving pictures. It's a stunner.

I read somewhere that the audio, lines, were added afterwards, so that lends itself to the dreamlike qualities of a lot of the scenes too.

The main character is Guido, a movie director, and the film concerns the ups and downs of his recent efforts toward making another film. He has wife troubles, seems to be feeling very disenchanted all along the way. They're making a science fiction film, and the only set for this is a big scaffold thing that looks like the rocket launching pad. In the screen tests they've shot he seems to be more interested in making a picture about his marriage troubles and personal feelings. But I can't say I have a real accurate sense of what all is going on. I'm reading subtitles then trying to glance up at the scene, and, as I said, I watched it in pieces.

This is my first Fellini film, even though I've read what people have said about them on and off over numerous years.

(Some of the scenes, particularly toward the ending, reminded me of Magical Mystery Tour; and based on what I've read this week, there were lots of imitators and those paying tribute to the film, it's basic feel, etc.)

My favorite scene of all is one that involves a big, wild woman named Saraghina. She lives by the seashore in a concrete bunker type of structure. The boys, including Guido, in a flashback or scene from his imagination, (probably a flashback), leave their Catholic school and go there. One of them pays her a coin and she comes out and dances a risque rhumba, pulling down her top to reveal her upper chest and shoulders. The boys are jumping, clapping, and there's one who's sitting there slapping his face in time with the music. That's cool. I watched this scene twice. It might not be politically correct to say so, but we could have used a neighborhood Saraghina when I was a kid! At the end, a couple of reverend priests show up and chase Guido; the film is speeded up where they're almost like Keystone Kops for a couple seconds; they catch him and take him back to all the other priests and authorities who pronounce, along with his dear mother, shame on him.

The ending is pretty awesome too, where a lot of the characters are back for one big shindig involving four clowns with instruments.

I would like to see it again, but I guess I won't. I need to get the DVD back to the rental place.

Elvis Presley -- The Complete Gospel Recordings

I'm wondering if I have the complete gospel recordings by Elvis Presley by now. I did it a couple months ago, bought the three volumes of gospel CDs. His Hand In Mine, How Great Thou Art, and He Touched Me.

I heard there was a track, "Miracle of the Rosary," which wasn't on those CDs. So I was at a thrift store the other day and saw another CD, "Ultimate Gospel." I was pretty sure all the songs on it were taken from the other three CDs, but it had the "Rosary" song, so I bought it. Cheap, so no big deal.

But if that's all ... then that's all. I haven't looked it up to see, but I'm wondering what I would discover were I to do so.

The "Miracle of the Rosary" isn't even a very good song, in my opinion, and it's short. Like a minute and a half or so. Elvis, not being Catholic, I wonder what prompted him to record this song.

Time To Do Laundry

Oh, I hate doing that, dripping breakfast all over my pajama top.

My pajama top, so called, is actually one of those gray exercise shirts, thick fabric, like long johns but gray. The thickness pulls in and absorbs all liquid. Absorbene Senior.

I'm busy eating -- slop slop slop -- looking at the web news -- and -- dollop -- goes my egg, a drizzling, side egg, crusty, sticky, gooey mess right down my top. To scoop it off with the fork is going to be half the battle. The rest of the battle will be the residue left behind that couldn't be extracted with a rock and a running stream.

So now I look down and I'm Stainman, super hero known for sloppy seconds. That's one way to remember breakfast. I'm always bemoaning the fact that the little pieces of trivial history aren't recorded and are quickly forgotten. Well, this is indelible.

That means it has to get done today sometime. Because I only have this one PJ top that fits well. And I can't be shivering in my bed tonight with a T shirt. Double drat.

XM Radio

How can Sirius XM Radio not be making a profit? There must be plenty about high finance and big business that I don't understand. This is one of them. How can these guys not be making money?

Are they having big parties, buying yachts for their disk jockeys? It's crazy.

One, it's crazy to offer any on air personality $500 million. So I guess that sort of payroll might have something with doing you in. I withdraw my question.

As far as having a basic service of satellite radio, it seems like it'd be cheap enough to have a bunch of songs playing randomly in an endless way. Then the rest of us down here, with our radios, paying our subscriptions. It all works together in a harmonious way. We like the music, we pay the bill, they keep their costs down, bang -- they make money.

Yes, I guess, if you need to get fancy, and hire Howard Stern, Martha Stewart, Oprah, these might run up the tab. I personally don't want to hear Howard Stern, Martha, Oprah, or any of these other high priced celebrities. What they have to say to me is nothing. Just the songs, music on the radio is what I want.

I actually haven't listened to XM lately except maybe 15 minutes in the last month. They rejiggered the stations and I don't care for the new line-up. I'm a big Elvis fan, but I think it's stupid to have an all Elvis channel. Plus I hate all the Graceland talk talk talk. I miss the channel Fine Tuning, channel 76. It was cool, except for all the Celtic music, which I hate.

It just seems like it can't be that hard to make money. Now the stock is down, something under a dime, they're talking about bankruptcy. So it's crazy.

Eye Burn

There's no relation between the subjects of these two illustrations. But one seemed to suggest the other, at least in the pose.

Someone used to make photocopies of the Jesus illusion picture, leading to many experiences of spiritual transformation when we stared at it for a minute, then closed our eyes, to behold, as in a miraculous vision, the sense of the Lord's omnipresence in our minds. I still don't know precisely how it works, but an eye doctor probably could tell me. What I think happens is this, that there's some connection between staring at things and seeing them later...

As for Norm Coleman, ex-senator from Minnesota and now disgraced ex-candidate for the office, I don't want to stare at that guy. In fact, I'm trying to avert my eyes in case that connection between staring at things and seeing them later turns out to be true. It's unbelievable that the election festivities in the state of Minnesota are lingering as long as they are. I know they have cold weather over there but I didn't think things stayed frozen quite this long. Just try it on for size had it been the other way around, that Coleman was leading by 240-some votes and Franken was trailing. The Republicans would have raised a mighty stink to get Coleman seated. But we have the Democrat ahead and of course we have to wait patiently till every rejected ballot is reconsidered 50 more times.

And remember Coleman's principles? He said right after the election, when Franken was a few votes behind, that had he (Coleman) been in that position that he would withdraw and concede. Does anyone believe him? The man is an obvious liar ... as events have proven.

Stare at the Lord's picture, get that eye burn thing going, then go to Him in prayer and ask that Coleman might eventually lose, at least before the next election.

Friday the 13th

Wooo!! Superstition. Need to watch out for flying bad luck. What should I do differently? Maybe don't fall asleep. I'm getting very tired and might lay down.

I was only thinking of it as the day before Valentine's Day. Not about being Friday the 13th. Then I saw it on a calendar and I'm thinking ... scary stuff might happen. Is it just a day for bad luck? Or are their ghosts involved too?

What would I rather see, a ghost or an angel? Good question. Probably an angel, yes. Because ghosts are just dead people like us. They're not that interesting, going by what I see on TV. They move chairs, occasionally bite someone, are cold and clammy when they pass through you. But angels, just what I know of them, are of an entirely different order. They're not dead people, they're above people.

Anytime you talk about angels someone reminds you of that verse that says you meet "angels unaware," meaning that every person you see could be an angel off doing a good deed. Or expecting a good deed to be done for him or her. Like testing you to see if you're a keeper. I think the verse has more to do with giving people some motivation for hospitality rather a promise that you'll see angels without knowing it. Anyway, what good is it to see angels without knowing it? I'd want to know it.

So here's what would be great. You're sitting in a room in your house. Maybe it's where you're being extra spiritual. There's an empty chair across the room, and suddenly you see it fading into view, a glowing, pulsing form. Nothing quite like the pictures or movies, but more with the aspect of something metallic. The shoulders start to round out. The face that's very hard and staring straight ahead becomes more lifelike. Somehow you're not exactly afraid but you don't know what you are. I think I'd be afraid, to tell the truth. Then he starts giving you some interesting instructions about what to do next.

This is really where the downfall would be. I have never heard or read angelic instructions that were particularly interesting. Even the ones in the Bible are more just messages that anyone could deliver. On the hills of Bethlehem, the angels show up, but it could have been a guy with a telegram.

Do I expect to see an angel? Not really. I don't know if it takes my own effort or it's just a matter of grace or it's maybe a matter of being crazy. Do I expect to see a ghost? Not precisely, but I do expect weird things to happen once in a while, like noises and weird coincidences, things moved that you don't remember having moved.

I should look up what Friday the 13th is all about in lore. It could be any of that, but I believe the main thing is it's a day of bad luck.

What Do You Get A Guy On His 200th Birthday?

Abraham Lincoln's got a birthday ... a big one ... it's the big 2-0-0 ...

But what do you get for a guy, how would the party go? We've all seen the ads in the paper, "Lordy, Lordy, look who's 40." And we've seen the black crepe and black balloons for being "Over The Hill" at 50. But not even Spencer Gifts has anything for the two century mark, because it's simply hopeless.

200 years is getting way up there. But the good news for Lincoln. He's still only 10 percent of Mel Brooks' and Carl Reiner's 2000 year old man.

Determination and Self Interest

I like to hear resolutions from people when they've had a down time -- a very negative transitional time, let's call it -- that from now on things are going to be different. You hear words like this, "I'm never going to be in that situation again. I'm going to" do this and that and the other thing. You have to encourage it and hope they stick to it.

I think it'd be good to write down those plans and read them the first thing in the morning. And maybe even have a journal of some of your craziest times to read to remind yourself of the misery you've been through. It's a terrible thing to be down and out, personally, emotionally, and financially. That's a big one because with just emotional things you have options moment to moment. Being down and out financially means suffering for a longer time, because money doesn't just appear.

But when you got it, when you get it, keep it. Have the determination that having it is power, the power of independence, the power of owning yourself. I was talking to someone who was staying with someone, friends, but doing that you outstay your welcome before you know it. (As for myself I'd be thinking of this issue the first day, but not everyone does. They think it really is a time for convalescence, when it is a transitional time that needs to be gotten through as quickly as possible.) Pretty soon it becomes clear that you are at their mercy, that that's no place to be.

So the bottom line is take charge of your life, don't be anyone's victim (including your own victim, like with self-destructive behavior), strive for and achieve independence, and look out for your self interest all the way down the line. You'll be a lot happier for it.

One big problem people have is with over spending. That's making yourself a victim. I'm not a rich guy, but I know that having your head above water is power. And the more you're up and out of it, not being submerged, but up, high and dry, the better off you'll be.

Ten Minutes Here And There

"I only got four minutes to save the world!" What could I do with 10?

The minutes are counting down. No matter how much stuff I get done in advance, when this moment gets here I'm always pressed for time. Unexpected stuff pops up, taking people places, doing errands for people, helping to guide the irresponsible back to the path of a tolerable existence.

And that's what's on tap for this morning. It makes me wonder, is your existence really hanging by the thread called me? So I have approximately 10 minutes till I'm off, like Superman, to the rescue.

In 10 minutes I could listen to a couple songs. But I'm writing this, although I could listen to songs at the same time. Except I'm not. I could go double check everything to make sure I'm really ready, except I think I am. I could read a couple pages of something, maybe a few verses of something to help guide my thinking. I've already done that, so I think I'm good to go.

The time's ticking down, except there's about five minutes left, more or less. It's still not too late to do something super productive in those five minutes.

Obama's News Conference

What a difference there is between Barack Obama and George W. Bush!

Watching a news conference with Bush was unbearable and virtually impossible. Not only was he a dunce, but he had the media so cowed their docility was sickening.

With Obama, we have finally have a smart guy back in charge. And the press seemed to rise to the occasion, asking decent questions and not gotcha crap. They were intelligent questions and they got intelligent answers.

Whatever the Republicans are trying to pull, their usual ideology and bluster, when Obama starts talking, you know he makes sense and what some legitimate idea what he wants to do, and that it has a decent chance of being effective. Just ideological opposition isn't enough. The Republicans need to learn that.

I haven't been watching presidential press conferences in their entirety, but I saw the whole thing tonight. It was impressive.

Facebook Boredom

My whole family -- more or less -- has taken to Facebook. I'm seeing the arc of our usual involvement in things, which is gung ho at first, then petering off, then to the dumpster with it. That's obviously a common arc of interest, for most people I'd guess. It applies to TV shows. Whatever. Like Survivor, a show that once held us like a hypnotist, but did the same thing once too often. Or the old show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, that used up its 15 minutes in 10.

It makes me wonder what can persist. Maybe nothing. The arc is not the friend of persistence, but we're like sharks, moving on to the next prey, and always swimming. Speaking of swimming, I read today that some woman supposedly swam across the Atlantic Ocean. Except she had a boat and did 2100 miles in around 25 days. There sounds like something fishy there. Does that mean she jumped out of the boat and swam for an hour and got back on and rode the rest of the way. It said the most she swam was eight hours one day and the least was 21 minutes another day. So how you go that far without hitching a ride most of the way, it's beyond me.

Getting back to Facebook. What is there to it? It's boring on the face of it, not to be punning. I care what all these people are doing -- definitely, because they're my family. But some of it isn't interesting at all, such as whose birthdays they're adding to their calendar and all the invitations to add yourself to my family, join this cause, take this quiz, etc. I'm ignoring some of it. There's nothing really that I need to do, because it's going the way of the usual arc. Those who were posting plenty of things at first are posting less things now. It'll die.

Fear and Patheticness

How to lose your fear and patheticness in a few minutes.

What's that creeping vine that wiggles through your system, giving you gray hair and age spots? It must have a name. Adam gave names to all the animals. And while it's not technically an animal, it's separate enough in your mind to have a name. Let's not worry about the name. The experts have a name for it and they have a program for either losing it or cashing in on your inability to ever lose it.

Patheticness is what I'm calling it, although the spell checker doesn't seem to think that's a word. It says it all. Fear and P. But there's a flash of insight that's always waiting for you to say, vamoose, be gone, ye dog. It's kind of like forgetfulness, then there's a flash of memory. All down, creeping, crawling, nastiness of mental baggage, eye baggage, taking over, letting you have it. And it you don't want.

You just need to suddenly realize a few things. One, you're alive and there's no apologies needed. Two, there's not really any separation from you and life itself, whatever life itself is. Three, the way you see your life is the result of thought. Change your thinking to celebrate the moment instead of dreading it. Seize on little things of delight, delighting in everything. Four, know that mentally all things are possible. This doesn't take all night, it's right this minute. I might think I need to pray all night like a monk in an attic. But the answer to your prayer is as close as right this second.

Homemade Candles

I made four candles today. Someone gave me a kit, prearranged supplies in a box. I've had it a month and a half and decided today was the day.

It had four glasses, bigger than a votive, and enough soy wax for them. Four wicks, of course, and some coloring and scent.

It was not too much work, but a lot more work than just buying candles. It was enjoyable enough to do, and I hope they're OK. I might have messed them up a bit by setting them out in the cold. It looks like some of the wax pulled in. At least it looks like it through the smoked glass. Does wax do a shrinky dink thing when it gets cold? I don't know.

Technically they shouldn't be ready to burn till 9:00 p.m., but since they were out in the cold, maybe I'll try the first one a little earlier than that. Now I still need to do the clean up, scrape up any dripped wax, put the box in the recycling, and so forth.

I don't think I'll be doing much of this. But I'm tempted to get the stuff to make votive candles. I bought some recently and I'm not 100% pleased with them. It looks like there's two ways to get what you want, shop around or do it yourself. I'll probably shop around first.

New Patriotism

Has anyone else noticed that it's suddenly patriotic again to criticize the president?

I seem to recall a time -- what was it, eight years or so -- when what the president said was sacrosanct. Little Fox scribes ran around etching it in marble and the rest of us were invited to bow down and scrape.

It would appear that patriotism has something to do with party and not the office.

In other news of idiocy, how about Andy Card being up in arms about whether people in the Obama administration wear a jacket in the Oval Office? This is idiocy. One, it's none of his business. Two, that's what he's worried about? The fact that Bush governed as a criminal for eight years was no concern, as long as he had a jacket on.

Harvey Larvae Here

Harvey Larvae, the friendly talking caterpillar, teaches about butterflies, courtesy of the Wikipedia entry on the subject:

A butterfly is an insect of the order Lepidoptera. Like all Lepidoptera, butterflies are notable for their unusual life cycle with a larval caterpillar stage, an inactive pupal stage, and a spectacular metamorphosis into a familiar and colourful winged adult form.

I have to go to Wiki, because, after all, what do I know about butterflies? Very little. They're great to watch in the summer though.

"Simon, if you give me another chance," let me explain the origin of the Harvey Larvae persona. There's a building being built, and since it's being built in the dead of winter, they have it encased in plastic wrap with the workers busy inside ... soon to shed their cocoon ... and to bring forth ... another fast food restaurant!

Harvey is the perfect spokesmodel.

Paying Taxes

Taxes probably get very complicated for guys at the level of Tom Daschle. But that's why you pay accountants and lawyers, to keep this stuff in line for you.

He's one of three who've been appointed to various spots in the Obama administration who've had troubles with taxes. At some point you have to say this is ridiculous stuff. Didn't we hear how vetted all these people were supposed to be? I know I looked at the application for jobs to the administration and it had various things you were supposed to disclose.

I definitely wouldn't want to be a guy at a high level like Daschle, then they find out a month after nominating me that I didn't disclose something very pertinent ... like I didn't pay my taxes! For crying out loud.

My Mind Is Just Hash Tonight

Just hash. I don't know what happened. I had a busy day. But I noticed the bags under my eyes were more pronounced. I feel tired, more so than I should.

I still have things to get accomplished, and it's a colder night. The dog needs to go out. She hates it when it's super cold. Smart dog, I hate it too. The cats need to be cleaned, their box. The dishes need to be done, how fun. The worst thing about doing dishes is the preliminary cleaning up, getting the muck out of the sink, emptying whatever liquids there may be, rinsing out cat food cans, just straightening up so the rest of the task will go better.

I could possibly make it to bed by 9 p.m., but I doubt it. I need to finish writing this ... la la la ...

Bad Days For Peanuts

The big peanut butter recall and scare of 2009 is upon us. I thought it was just a few things, like a few peanut butter crackers that were the problem. But it looks like it's a lot more widespread than that, beyond belief really.

I saw this diary at Daily Kos early this morning. Then I was at the grocery store in the peanut aisle and it came back to me, that all this stuff is tainted or potentially tainted. It has to be bad.

The diary at DK lists (I didn't count them) what looks like hundreds of things, including, brownies, cake, candy, cookies, crackers, donuts, fruits and vegetables, ice cream, peanuts, peanut butter, pet food, pre-packaged meals, snack bars, and snack mix.

Pet food?

Here's the pet food items on the diary's list:

Carolina Prime 2 Pack Hooves Peanut Butter Hooves
Carolina Prime 4" Rawhide Bone Peanut Rawhide
Carolina Prime 6" Beef Shank Peanut Butter Dog Bone
Carolina Prime 6" Rawhide Bone Peanut Butter Rawhide
Carolina Prime Pet 2pk Hooves Peanut Butter
Carolina Prime Pet 4" Rawhide Bone Peanut Butter
Carolina Prime Pet 6" Beef Shank Peanut Butter
Carolina Prime Pet 6" Rawhide Bone Peanut Butter
Carolina Prime Pet 6" Healthy Hide Beef Shank Peanut Butter
Grreat Choice Extra Large Assorted
Grreat Choice Large Assorted
Grreat Choice Peanut Butter
Grreat Choice Small Assorted
Grreat Choice Small/Medium Assorted
Happy Tails Multi-flavored Dog Biscuits
Healthy-hide Deli-wrap Peanut Butter-Filled Rawhide dog treats
Salix Healthy-Hide-Deli Wrap 5" Peanut Butter Filled Rawhide
Shoppers Valu Multi-Flavored Dog Biscuits