Effluvia

Donald Rumsfeld was named secretary of defense this week. While I don't know anything about the man's politics, I do like his name. Imagine, if you will, a pro sports arena announcer making the following introduction:

"And now, acting as secretary of defense for your presidential cabinet...Don-ald Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrumsfelddddddddddddd!"

I did that, like, five times in the car on the way home yesterday. I laughed every time.

Ah, here's an article from CNN about the falling bullets. Scary.

There was this mini-golf tournament at work today, right? I came in dead last, scoring an impressive 105. I got a little trophy and some chocolate covered cherries. I feel like a winner!

I love Slate's Tuesday Morning Quarterback column. Fun and funny commentary on football.

Speaking of which, I think the Wife and I are going to the 'Dome early tomorrow, just to take in the craziness.

I think I saw Trent Reznor outside his studio down Magazine this evening. Cool, huh? Trent, out making sure the doors were locked and everything. That's one thing that New Orleans has that Memphis doesn't: celebrity guest appearances.

Jeff Koyen over at Crank has overhauled the whole site. I tell you again, people, that this is some of the best writing on the 'net.

Journal Roulette

Dear World - Still loves Uncle Alan, apparently.

Siobhanorama!

Incommunicado in the Frozen North. Has probably had to burn Bush/Chaney signs to keep warm.

Two Years Ago
I accomplish quite a bit in one evening.

So here we are, in the week between Christmas and New Year's, in that useless taint at the tail end of 2000. No one does much at work, it's too cold to go outside and everyone is laying around, dazed with too much turkey and an overabundance of Christmas gifts.

It was very cold in Memphis the entire time we were home for Christmas. I think it stayed in the twenties, with occasional drops into the teens, the entire time we were there.

(Cold, of course, is a relative thing. I'm sure all the good people of Minneapolis would love a blamy, spring-like day in the twenties. For Memphis, though, that's good, solid cold.)

Therefore, gloves and the Saints ski cap were a necessity every time I went outside. We stayed at my mom's house. Roxy loves my mom's backyard. She can mess around out there for hours, sniffing along the fence and inspecting the old picnic table.

She saw a rabbit twice, too. Roxy gets all crazy when there's a rodent at ground level with her. She goes from oh, I'm a happy little dog, I like to lay on the couch and eat treats to rodent. Must kill. Both times she fell in step right behind the bunny, going almost as fast. Alas, the bunny could slip out of tiny cracks in the fence while Roxy could only shove her nose through after them and huff furiously.

Sonya and I played Santa Claus on Saturday, taking gifts around to some folks we might not see otherwise and listening to football on the radio. Saturday night friends gathered at Zinnie's for drinks and appetizers. It was nice.

Hey, we went to church! Sonya's family went with her grandmother on Sunday morning and we went too. I thought about it for a while, and I figured out that it was the first time I'd been to church that wasn't a wedding in about five years. Very little has changed.

Sunday, with all the family gathered at my mom's house, my sister and I made a big fire from convenience store firewood. Was it still a little damp and green? You bet, but a little new wood is no match for the liberal use of firestarting logs. I made lemon drops and passed them out liberally. It was a good Christmas.

Christmas morning - and another feast - followed with Sonya's family. That night we went and saw Quills with Jen and James. This is a movie you need to see, even if it does offer the dubious experience of seeing Geoffrey Rush's naked ass. Rush is many things, but sexy is not one of them. Still, you should see it. You should see it in spite of Geoffrey Rush's naked ass! Kate Winslet? H. O. T.

So we got up on Tuesday morning to come back to New Orleans and the weather had turned hideous. Just horrible. The roads in West Memphis were coated with a thin layer of ice. We debated for a bit, then decided to give it a try. If conditions were too bad we'd turn around and come back, right?

West Memphis was slippery, the bridge was terrifying (solid ice - had I needed to turn or brake we would have been out of luck) and the I-240 loop around Memphis was messy, but once we made it to Mississippi the bad weather disappeared. Hell, it hadn't even rained there. It was twenty degrees warmer in Jackson. It has yet to warm up back home.

Impressive Roadkill Dept.

We saw quite a few big, dead dogs, which is not so strange in Mississippi. Of course, there was the regular distribution of smaller animals, too: skunks, armadillos, possums, raccoons, etc. I also saw three dead deer - good sized ones, too - and several live deer on the trip to Memphis.

And one dead buffalo.

I ain't shittin' ya! We were almost to the Louisiana line on the way back Tuesday when I saw this huge black thing laying on the side of the road. I thought it was a couch, maybe, or a small, furry car. As I got closer I figured it must be a cow, but it kept getting bigger as we got closer yet and Sonya and I both very clearly saw the shaggy, flat face that is distinctive of bison.

What was this buffalo doing, wandering loose in southern Mississippi? Migrating? trying to get Brett Favre's autograph? Looking to retire? I don't know.

And what happened to the car that hit it? Had I taken it out at the legs in little Eclipse it would have fallen over and crushed my engine, I'm sure. Even a big diesel truck (with trailer) couldn't just shrug off hitting someting that big. Yet there was no sign of a car wreck, just a big dead buffalo.

There was lots to unload when we got back to the house. I had to make seventy-three trips from the car to the apartment to bring everything inside. It was like a clown car.

Are grown people supposed to get stomach aches? 'Cause I've had one, and I'm tired of it. I woke up with it Wednesday, and it was really bad that night. Then it was off and on yesterday. I don't know if I overtaxed my digestive equipment over the holiday or if I simply ate something that had expired, but I've kept that queasy, almost-but-not-quite-need-to-puke feeling for the last couple of days. It seems to have gone away today, and I'm very happy. Annoyingly, it's been replaced by a hangover-like headache, which is strange since I've had no alcohol since Sunday. I can't get well. I'm the Elephant Man.

The weekend ahead looks promising. We're going to go shopping for a cedar chest, 'cause sweaters are drawer hogs and we've got lots of 'em! Sweaters, I mean, not drawers. So, a chest for the sweaters. And, um, we're going to the playoffs! The game is Saturday afternoon, kickoff at 3:05. I am about to vomit with excitement. Sonya is making a sign, complete with a Dennis Miller head attached. Look for us - we'll be in the corner of one of the end zones. Look for the sign, anyway.

Sunday I think we're going to the Rock 'n Bowl to celebrate New Year's with the Iguanas. I just want to be inside when the bullets start to fly. You've heard about that, right? On New Year's a bunch of morons shoot their guns into the sky. People have been injured - and killed - by falling bullets. Not good. It happens everywhere, but it's been a huge issue in New Orleans. Hey guys, how 'bout you celebrate by shooting each other? Safer and more productive.

And that stomach ache? Turns out it's dysentery. I should have expected it, living in the jungle and all.

Harold Reads 100 Years of Solitude

So there's this family, right? And they're Mexican, or maybe Argentinan, or Columbian...Latinos, anyway, somewhere in Central or South America. I'm not sure where. And they live in a very isolated village where no one gets old or dies. Sometimes gypsies come to town. Sometimes babies are born with animal features, or are actually animals. These people suffer through a plague of insomnia, but they survive. The gypsies help. The main family buys a player piano. One of their adopted daughters has the bones of her parents in a bag.

It's fantasy, I guess, though without talking horses or magic rings. It's a world like ours, but different in crucial ways. And it's obviously translated from another language - I usually don't like translations becuase they really seem to lose something and come out flat and unengaging.

But I have to read it, brother, so you have to hear about it.