Friday, January 14, 2005

In desperate need of a deadline

I have a lot of things that need to be done, but no one thing cries out for attention above all others. There is no squeaky wheel, no looming deadline, no urgent issue. And I have a headache that's been sitting on me for roughly the last 20 hours, seriously impairing my motivation. So what should I do first:

a) pay bills
b) write scripts
c) clean my room
d) return phone calls
e) dye my hair
f) take a nap

You see? All important, but nothing especially pressing. Except maybe that nap.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

So dumb I could cry

It's more than three hours and I still can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, and I have work to do, and yet I continue to futz around with the thing I can't do.

I can't decide if this is obsessive or compulsive behavior. Either way, it's really stupid, and I have a sore throat, I'm very tired, I have to be in a meeting at 8 a.m., and I have to compile a whole package of legal documents for the ACLU, and write a whole fucking column about weight-loss related holiday gifts.

I hate it when I get like this. This is the reason I stabbed myself with the pencil in fifth grade, because I couldn't get it right, and I couldn't leave it alone and do something I COULD get right.

Thank you, DRIVE THRU!!!


Tuesday, December 07, 2004

More Fun with Editing

Here again, is the horror of my world...


Sitting on the warm leather couch in his office staring at each other a sense of a foreboding presence surrounded them. Silence permeated the room with a deep gloom of desperation, Michael suddenly broke the curse and asked” is Raphael busy Lucy? Staring at Lucy with placid tone.

Speechless she shook her head with a” no” response

“Can you tell him I need to talk to him? he asked her desperately. His eyes bloodshot and glassy from another day of keeping them open. Lucy’s concerned demure rushed hurriedly out of the office her motion emphasizing the importance of the situation that she had just encountered to Raphael.

Not a sound could be heard but the solid and sturdy knock on the door to his office trying to gain admittance. The sound barrier of Lucy and Raphael running into the room was prevented by the new carpet just installed in the office, Michael was not used to not hearing the sound of clambering feet against the wooden floors as people entered his office and was taken aback at their presence so quickly.

Both of them aware of the intense pain he was suffering looked at him with intense loyalty and sorrow.Blurry eyes gazed at them and with a lucid smile Michael put back his head on the soft leather couch unconcerned that they were watching him. He started to think about his day and what happened to come to this juncture. Staring at the wall in a desperate attempt to keep his eyes opened. Haunted memories were erupting quicker than his mind could evaluate.

Oh, God. Just shoot me now. I am wondering if perhaps it's not too late to consider employment in the food service or lawn maintenance industries.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Why Sports Gives Life Meaning Today

Really, it's not sports, per se, it's writing about sports. Writing like this:


"....The 5-6 Rams are trailing the West by one game. They have lost four of their last five games by a total of 82 points. Their fans aren't just booing during games; they're doing everything short of throwing their own feces. Their coach has become such a punchline, a reader e-mailed me this week and asked if I could start using the word "Martzian" in columns, as in, "When I locked my keys in the car, that was pretty Martzian of me." Their collapse in Green Bay was almost a cry for help, like when little kids need attention and start breaking soda bottles on a sidewalk...."

-----------

I have always felt that sportswriters got the liberties that other journalists should be allowed, but they really only get those liberties because of the utter meaninglessness of what they write about. If you were that cavalier about, say, the municipal sewage treatment plant, you'd never get away with it.

This work, by the way, is Bill Simmons, ESPN's Sports Guy columnist and comes to us, like most other things of merit, via President Furst. It is worth reading regardless of the sport, except for hockey. I tried taking an interest in hockey because Trent was playing hockey, but once the lunatic Finnish guy took over coaching and benched him, he's taken his broken hockey heart over to lacrosse and so now I don't have to worry about it.


Friday, December 03, 2004

The Xtian World is Flat

Probably would have been better to try to tackle the most abused book of the Xtian bible some time when I'd had a little more sleep and wasn't heaving bilious bits of burnt-car smoke out of my lungs, but as it is, I am trying to read it now. And it is pissing me off. Actually, it's not the apostle Paul who is such a pain in the ass, but all the hateful cretins since him who have taken his words and twisted them in very specific, manipulative ways to make them mean something they did not.

For one thing, I have spent my entire conscious life as a Jew and I don't ever recall being told in any way shape or form that if I didn't adhere perfectly to The Law that I was going to hellfire and damnation. I think the understanding that you can't be perfect is IMPLICIT in Judaism, whereas standard Xtian exegesis is that we are expected to be perfect, but it's impossible, so we're all screwed without Jesus. What an obnoxious crock. Where is that coming from? Not Paul, or at least not here.

Secondly, I can't stand this whole Xtian idea of "justification." It's so snotty. Jews are redeemed. We're not justified. And doesn't that make more sense? Because it's extraordinarily difficult, virtually impossible to be a tzaddik, to be perfect, we fail in our various ways and fall short and must be redeemed through God's love and mercy. Not like someone has to intercede for us and justify or explain us. And we're not redeemed solely on the basis of our works. Please. Get real. That would sort of qualify as setting a stumbling block before a blind man, would it not? We have to have faith, just as Avinu Avraham did. God has mercy. There is no justice without mercy. Faith and works. What is this Xtian insistance on bifurcation? It's not either/or. It's BOTH, people. BOTH.

And interpretive problems are one thing, selectivity is one thing. Then there are the absolute complete revisions, simply changing one word for another because it better suits the interpreter's message of hate or disparagement. It is absolutely appalling. The revisionism in this religion is hideous. Thank God there are some Xtians who still read The Law and make some attempt to understand the basis of their god's moral program. Thank God there are some who can read Greek and Hebrew and who have some kind of conscience about the propaganda in their little best seller. Of course, not that it matters that much, now, after 2,000 years of telling lies to the faithful, what difference is it really going to make now if a few biblical scholars come clean on what the Bible really says.

For instance, in Romans 11:26, it quotes Isaiah 59:20 as saying, "The deliverer will come from Zion, he will remove ungodliness from Jacob," supposedly establishing scriptural support for the Xtian notion that the Messiah will take away our sins. Unfortunately, the Hebrew in Isaiah 59:20 actually says the opposite: "A redeemer will come to Zion and to those who turn from transgression in Jacob, declares the Lord." The Messiah's role is not to take away our sins; rather, when we turn away from our sins, the Messiah will then come! Helloooooo?? Man, that is just some brass exegetical balls.

At least some Xtians are taking a look at the legacy of lies they've been raised on and trying to sort the fiction out of it. http://www.rabbisaul.com/doersoflaw.htm Because the way this stuff has been translated into a hateful screed against Jews is absolutely remarkable. The sky is green. The world is flat.

I am flabbergasted.


Friday, November 19, 2004

The Graduate


The Graduate Posted by Hello

I don't remember what it was I was going to say about this. But it's my favorite photo. So here it is.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Authentically, indignantly hilarious...


Okay, this started out as a, well, a sort of cry of despair, but it's shaping up kinda good... First, I sent out this email:


I am absolutely not making this up. This is the unbelievable shite I am trying to edit into English:

Dredging himself down the long dark corridors shadowy figures were whispering sounds of acknowledgement that he was there. Realization of anticipated recovery pierced his soul with confirmation that this was real. His body drained from the emotional turmoil that he was experiencing subsided has he neared the encumbered room. Suddenly he stopped to miraculously gaze upon the luminous light encompassed around the door. Standing there perplexed by the vision he was witnessing as happiness intruded his soul and mind.

"Dredging himself"??? What does she mean? He rolled in flour and egg all the way down the hallway? He scraped mud off his shoes? Trudging? Dragging?

Michelle, please. Take your hands off the keyboard and back slowly away from the computer....I ask you ... does it get any worse than that?

Then, I started getting replies... they are posted as comments, just cuz...