I IS A ARTIST! SEE?

<a href="http://wordle.net/gallery/Why_I_Live_at_the_P_O_&quot;
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“Why I Live at the P.O.”
by Eudora Welty (1941)

<a href="http://wordle.net/gallery/Chapter_1_of_The_Autobiography_of_Alice_B__Toklas&quot;
title=”Chapter 1 of The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas” target=”_blank”><img src="http://wordle.net/thumb/Chapter_1_of_The_Autobiography_of_Alice_B__Toklas&quot;
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The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, chapter 1
by Gertrude Stein (1933)

<a href="http://wordle.net/gallery/State_of_the_Union_address%2C_Jan_2008&quot;
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State of the Union Address (with applause marks)
by George W. Bush (2008)

Big-ups to the Hodg-man for spreading the word about Wordle.

Timewaster Alert: the totally free Spore Creature Creator is live, y’all!

In case you haven’t heard, Spore is a new game for PC, Mac, and the three major consoles. It’s kinda like The Sims, if The Sims were set in a pool of primordial ooze, and you had to fight your way to the top of the food chain instead of just making your character take regular showers. As you’ve probably guessed, the Creature Creator allows you to create your own little genetic hatchling, modded out to your hearts content. If/when you purchase Spore , you can drop him/her/it right in and commence battling to be the fittest. Think of it as a cutesy, cuddly way to satisfy your inner atheist.

I’m not committed to the full game yet, but, you know, anything to keep me indoors for the next few months is a definite plus.

Dear Asshole:

Is that your dog–the one tied up on the sidewalk? At noon? On the 16th of June? In New Orleans?

Just checking.

Next time you step inside the Mardi Gras Zone to buy a couple of microwave burritos with a fistful of pennies you found in the gutter, tie up Fido in a shady spot. Or better yet, leave him at home. Assuming you have a home, that is.

Dear Everyone Else:

Sorry, but that is so my pet peeve. (No pun intended).

Question: Why is it so hot in August when the longest day of the year is way back in June?

THINGS THAT DID NOT SUCK THIS WEEK

The super-secret ninja trick I learned to do with Reader, thanks to an anonymous coder/gaming addict at Google. [FYI, although it’s kinda hot, you’ll wanna undo it. Just type in the code again for a full reverse.]

My excursions in Zon, an MMO designed to teach Mandarin Chinese. I haven’t learned a damn thing, but the implications are totally sweet.

Tchoupitoulas’ photo uploads at Flickr.com–which will probably eventually viewable in his New Orleans set. The weather is great, the city is awesome, wish you were here.

A new term for an old phenom: the “Aunt Minnie” [courtesy of Sunday]. Who knew it had a name?

“Thriving Office”–not because I’ve actually bought the CD, but because the concept and title are so optimistic. The creators could’ve called it “Busy Office” or “Harried Office” or “Deadline’s Afoot!”, but no, they’ve placed you in a work environment that’s doing just great, thank you very much–thriving, even. The difference is subtle, but of course, those of you who know me know how much I looooove subtlety.

Ladies and gentlemen of the press, invited guests, good morning and welcome to New Orleans. My name is Ray Nagin, and I am your king.

No, just kidding, just kidding. Totally kidding. But seriously–could you imagine if I’d said that for real and all? Omigod, that’d be so freaky! One of y’all would Photoshopped a tiara on this bald, sexy head before I was done talking, and that’d be all she wrote. Hell, that’d make for some news. Maybe get me on the cover of the Picayune. They don’t talk about me much over there anymore.

But seriously, folks. I’m the mayor of New Orleans, and I’d like to invite each and every one of you to bow down and lick my balls.

Sorry, sorry–just kidding again. Did I fool you twice? I honestly think I saw some of you start to lean over! Andy Cooper, I’m looking at you. Troy Carter? You, too. Don’t gimme that look, bro. I know you at least thought about it. I’m not stupid.

But enough of all that. I invited you here today to talk about the recovery and rebuilding that’s going on in New Orleans. Despite facing a lot of hurdles at the state and federal level, I think we’re doing a fantastic job, and I’d like to take personal credit for each and every good thing that’s happening around the city.

Now, I know there are some people out there who think I don’t do anything, They think I just show up to check the mail and talk about how vagina-friendly I am. But you know, from the minute I finish my workout at 10:00am ’till I leave for Commander’s Palace at 11:30am, I am in my office working. Talking to people. Smoking things. Looking at stuff. You know: mayor stuff. I work a lot.

I also know that some people are saying that neighborhood groups should get the credit for New Orleans’ recovery. But if that’s true, they ought to take the blame, too. Why can’t they fix our roads? Why can’t they fix our schools, huh? Why can’t they do something about the spiraling crime rate? Man, I’m scared to walk from my Town Car to the tennis court for fear of being touched by some homeless guy. I mean, I don’t swing that way….

Whoa. Is the room spinning for any of y’all? I better sit down…. That’s better. Now, where was I?

Oh yeah: But the neighborhood groups won’t take responsibility for all that junk, so I don’t think they should get any credit, either. So I say we abolish neighborhood groups and give all the credit back to me. You know, credit for all that stuff I’m doing. And the blame should lay squarely where it belongs: with Bobby Jindal and ol’ whatshisname. My chief of police? That guy. He did it. Not me.

Now before I let y’all go, let me just remind you:

I am important!

I am a valuable member of this community!

I’m good enough, I’m strong enough, and gosh darnit, people like me!

I blew Richard Speck!

No just kidding again. That was some shit in some crazy movie I saw one night when my wife was out of town and my boy Troy and I got high. On life–high on life, man. Because I would never smoke crack. With Troy. Again.

I’m not the World’s Biggest Opera Fan, but I’d hit that.

Please take a good look at the photo of Karl Lagerfeld above. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

…

…

What. Is. Up. With. That. Hairline?

My thoughts:

• The Kaiser could be wearing a wig. A heavily powdered wig.

• The hair could be his, but his scalp is as white–though not as pure–as the driven snow. Meaning that the Face That Launched a Thousand Tweed Suits is covered in bronzer.

• Karl is actually the guy who played Powder in that movie. You know, Powder?

• All of the above.

The strangest thing? In the New York magazine article from which that photo was pilfered, there is absolutely no mention of the strangeness. Which is stranger than the strangeness itself. Talk about your white elephants in the room….

I am not a fan of religion.

That should not be news to anyone. I’m a gay guy from Mississippi who was raised in the Southern Baptist church, went away to a liberal arts college, read some Sartre, came out of the closet, and never darkened the door of a church again. My story is not only typical, it’s stereotypical–so stereotypical, in fact, that other people have already written my story, better than I ever could. If I could only find my rainbow beads, I’d be wearing them right now. Sigh.

(NB #1: There are two exceptions to my “no churches” rule–weddings and funerals–but they still make me nervous and angry and occasionally give me gas. Which, as I recall, is kinda how Linda Blair reacted when she got that visit from her parish priest. Just sayin’.)

None of this is to imply that I don’t respect religion or the people who’ve got it (even though some would argue that such pacifism/relativism is just as dangerous as religion itself). I mean, even I kinda have a spiritual side, but unlike a lot of religious folks I know, I don’t throw my beliefs around like they’re something that should be of interest to anyone else. Basically, I think people should be nice to one another–not too complex a philosophy, IMHO. (NB #2: Another sterotypical position. Sue me.)

Needless to say, I was pretty happy to see this editorial in today’s New York Times:

This Father’s Day, one of most popular pastors in America will open his megachurch to homosexual dads, an event that would usually signal an extreme weather alert from old guard Republican evangelical leaders.

But by welcoming gay fathers into his Southern California flock, Rick Warren, author of the “The Purpose Driven Life,” is not just living up to the highest standards of Christian fellowship, he’s turning the page on a particularly embarrassing part of our politics….

The good tidings from Warren’s Saddleback Church come at a time when Barack Obama has ditched his incendiary ex-preacher, and John McCain has separated himself from the apocalyptical Hagee.

It’s a start, but how about a clean break? Let’s go Godless for the rest of the campaign…..

— New York Times

Of course, it’s all pie in the sky, but given the godtalk filling our airwaves and the internetz, it’s a nice break. At least for me.

Holy freakin’ crap:

Bobby Jindal, the 36-year old governor of Louisiana, is being taken seriously by the national press as a candidate on the shortlist to be John McCain’s Vice President. No one doubts that he’s a political prodigy — his impressive resume includes stints as president of the state university system, a Congressman and now governor.

But one of Jindal’s job titles hasn’t gotten much attention — and it just might prompt a few questions if his Veep candidacy gains steam: Exorcist.

We’ve discovered that in an essay Jindal wrote in 1994 for the New Oxford Review, a serious right-wing Catholic journal, Jindal narrated a bizarre story of a personal encounter with a demon, in which he participated in an exorcism with a group of college friends. And not only did they cast out the supernatural spirit that had possessed his friend, Jindal wrote that he believes that their ritual may well have cured her cancer…. [emphasis mine]

And from Jindal’s essay:

It appeared as if we were observing a tremendous battle between the Susan we knew and loved and some strange evil force. But the momentum had shifted and we now sensed that victory was at hand.

While Alice and Louise held Susan, her sister continued holding the Bible to her face. Almost taunting the evil spirit that had almost beaten us minutes before, the students dared Susan to read biblical passages. She choked on certain passages and could not finish the sentence “Jesus is Lord.” Over and over, she repeated “Jesus is L..L..LL,” often ending in profanities. In between her futile attempts, Susan pleaded with us to continue trying and often smiled between the grimaces that accompanied her readings of Scripture. Just as suddenly as she went into the trance, Susan suddenly reappeared and claimed “Jesus is Lord.”

— read all the fabulousness at TalkingPointsMemo.com

I mean, I had some extreme moments in college, but, uh, nothing quite like that. Not while I was sober, anyway.

Thanks for the link, Tyler. Holy crap, thanks for the link.