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It's cleanup day here at the press. I hope I can make as dramatic a difference as last year.

GAH. Last year it was the Talking Heads and the Smiths. This year it's They Might Be Giants. Mixmaster Dan has a real flair for putting on bands that I respect but have no interest in listening to. Oh Jesus, now it's that Malcolm song.

Wrote this yesterday but forgot to post:

Do you have certain people whose name you always think you're going to forget? Like there's this guy who works here named Steve, but for some reason "Scott" keeps creeping into my brain, so that whenever I call him by name, I always have that feeling that I could be calling him by the right name. And man, it's embarrassing when you call someone by the wrong name. One time I worked with this waiter whose last name was Goodwin, and everyone called him Goody. But one day I called him Woody, and he really took offense. Then there was the time I was playing first base in little league and trying to make chatter. I loudly cheered the pitcher, "Strike him out, Will! . . . I mean Joe!" We did have a Will on the team, but he was a black guy, and Brad was this little white kid with a lot of freckles. Oops.

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The first two bundles of dead matter that I picked up to trash were by the authors Wang and Johnson. Huh huh huh.

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BWAHAHAHAHA

Pat Buchanan doused with salad dressing



edit: Read this. Salad dressing leads to gun violence. Oh, and I was nowhere near Michigan yesterday, I swear.

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More weird news. Who needs fiction with stories like these?

Ms. Wheelchair stripped of title for standing up

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Buchanan video

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My desktop wallpaper at work is this picture that I took at an antiques market in NYC last year. I get a lot of comments on it. But until today, no one had ever asked if the silver lady was a real person.