This is a badder sign

I'm missing a whole day of notes. Oops. Oh well, what the hell. My name is Yon Yonsen, I come from Wisconsin.

So it goes.

Guess the two authors I just referred to (who happen to be two of my favorites). Give me your answers in the comments. This is a fastball right over the plate. Just waitin' for someone to swat it over the wall.

Tort_feasah answered the previous question correctly - Samantha is indeed the character from Sex and the City who says something along the lines of "the crazy ones have the good pills."

Well done.

UPDATE: I'll give a hint. One of 'em is Joseph Heller. The other is perhaps America's greatest satirist.

UPDATE 2: The quotes are "oh well, what the hell" (from Catch-22), and "My name is Yon Yonsen, I come from Wisconsin" and "so it goes" which are from a book by the not-Joseph Heller author.

This is a bad sign

Wikipedia has a nice, succinct summary of the title topic of the HARDEST CLASS EVER. Thirty seconds of skimming Wikipedia and I understand several things much more clearly than I did after a semester of class.

Maybe I should pay tuition to Wikipedia instead.

Brain not feel good

How to begin this post? Hmmmm. I think we require some back story here.

Last night I went to the Weary Traveler for some food and beer (the line between the two is fuzzy at best, I admit). I ordered the Bad Breath Burger - it's a real menu item, and (insert Homer Simpson happy slobbering sound here) it's good. Real good. It involves lots of Angus beef, some cream cheese, pickled onions, and a dumptruck full of garlic.

I ate a handful of parsley (flat-leaf, naturally) before bed last night, hoping it would help, but alas it didn't. I've brushed my teeth, flossed, used mouthwash, eaten more parsley...short of eating activated charcoal, I don't think I'm getting rid of the garlic taste in my mouth anytime soon. Maybe it's impacting my brain. No more garlic for a while.

I'm telling myself that my brain feels all cranky because of the beer last night and the studying for THE HARDEST CLASS EVER this morning. I figure I'll hit a titration point with the beer and the studying sometime soon.

"Come on baby, don't let me down"

That, gentle readers, is one of the greatest lines ever uttered in all of film-dom. It's from a little known gem called The Final Sacrifice. TFS was a REALLY low budget (like no-budget) "film" made quite a while ago with an apparently not-so-generous grant from the province of Alberta. Either that, or Mr. Greidanus (we can only presume it's pronouned "gr-eye-dahnoos" though I think we all want it to be "great anus"), the director, blew the budget on strippers and stubbies of Molson. Yeesh.

And then MST3K (mystery science theatre 3000) got hold of it and made it something grand and terrifyingly funny.

As I recall, at the point I picked out, the two heroes of the story, Zap Rowsdower and Troy McGreggor, are trying to get an ancient pickup truck to start. The older, fatter, less attractive hero says "come on baby, don't let me down" and Mike, one of the MST3K-ers voices over as the younger, skinnier, less attractive hero, "I won't, Rowsdower." Solid gold.

Anyway, my brain is the truck and I am Rowsdower. I have two exams - TWO stinking, paltry little exams to take before I am rid of law school. I've ridden out so many exams by now that these two shouldn't even register on my Richter scale.

But there's something extra-freaky about knowing that the last two are here. This is it. And my final final exam is in the hardest class I've ever taken IN MY LIFE. Great planning! I think my alternator is shot...

MULLET!!!

Daphne Supergirl has a funny post about the mullet and its strange Hollywood powers and, if you scroll down, she's written up a very helpful review of Dr. Pepper's latest soda.

Now THAT's more like it!

Tonight OLN is showing the CBC broadcast of the Ducks/Flames game. As it should be!

Send them back to wherever you found them...

Where did OLN find its hockey commentators? First of all, they can't call the plays worth crap. They even narrate line changes like a monster truck rally commercial.

"Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!!! Look at that great scoring chance!!!! The goalie just drank some water!!!!"

Someone needs to take the crack-laced bananas away from these monkeys.

Second, I just saw a player line up a brutal, malicious hit - shoulder to jaw, interfering with the puck handler. Total headhunt. The commentators say it was clean, so apparently it's okay to target the head, crouch, and spring up with your shoulder in an attempt to break another player's head open.

What a load. Now they're saying "that's playoff hockey."

Oh, so that justifies what would've gotten the guy tossed from the game in the regular season.

Watching hockey in the US is just depressing.

Overheard on the bus today...

"So I'm 17 and he's like 22, so I could totally get him thrown in jail if he makes me mad."

That dude is f@$%*d. She's 17, which means the higher functioning parts of her brain are not fully developed. He's 22, which, for guys, means about the same thing. I do not have great faith that there's good decisionmaking going on there.

I hate the bus. I fear that if God rode the bus (like Joan Osborne seemed to think he did back in the mid-90s), (s)he'd probably get home, open up the day planner and pencil in "scrap all of humanity" for 8 a.m. tomorrow.

The bus is populated by a diverse group of people - the poor, the mental, the enviro/cheapo granola holier-than-thou assholes, the students, the alcoholics, the kids who go to "alternative school" on the east side, etc...

But, dear readers, lest you think I'm some intolerant right-wing S.O.B. who needs a sensitivity training session, let me assure you I am not. I do not hate the bus because of the people who ride it or because of their peculiar infirmities.

I hate the bus because it is a constant, twice-daily reminder that society continues to fail a whole shitload of people who need the most help.

That's enough soapboxing for one night.

The good pills

Here's a study I'd like to see: How many inmates have mental health issues requiring some form of intervention (meds, counseling, etc...)? How much would it cost to screen and treat mental health problems vs. incarcerating the people whose transgressions are attributable to those mental health problems? Anybody got a guess as to how much it costs per year to house an inmate in a Wisconsin prison? Post your guess in the comments and I'll tell you how far off you are.

Okay, I know, implementation of a functional screening program would be a logistical nightmare.

Oh, and if you think you know where the line, "the crazy ones have the good pills" is from, post your answer in the comments. I want to see how TV savvy you all are. That's a hint.

"They should have immediately taken it off and not waited 25 minutes"

First, a disclaimer: KIDS SHOULD NOT WATCH PORN!! Hell, adults probably shouldn't watch it either.

That said, I just love this story . Subtext all over the place. My favorite part is when the mom actually records some of the porn and calls police. What? You have a random VHS of porn. What use will that be as evidence?

You can kind of tell what was going on - you know, daughter probably says 'looks what's on,' mom freaks, dad probably says,'I'm calling the cable company!!...but leave the t.v. on, I want to describe exactly what kind of filth they're polluting us with!' The article actually quotes dad as saying the porn was the "hardest-core stuff" he'd ever seen. Hmmm (!?).

Notice that there is zero mention in the article of actually turning off the television or changing the station. Maybe the reporter just left that out. But it seems like kind of an important detail if the focus of the article is to be the family's outrage and disgust with what was aired.

Paris - Roubaix

What can you do? Poor George Hincapie looks like he's probably got the best shot of his career at winning the Paris - Roubaix and his handlebars (or was it the steerer?) snaps clean. That's a bitch. Down goes George. I hope he's okay.

Then, Discovery gets two strong riders at the front, they blow a train crossing while the arms are down and the red light is lit. They have a nice little sprint on the velodrome, pulling in respectable finishes. And then they get disqualified. They'd ridden probably 250 km by the time they got to the crossing, the train is quickly approaching - what would you do? You're tired, your legs feel like burning jello, your lungs sting, you're covered in dust, and you've been riding a bike over granite cobblestones for almost 6 hours - and the end is in sight. You know what the rules say, but at that particular moment the rules are not at the forefront of your mind. That just sucks.

Thanks to the disqualifications, Boonen, who actually stopped for the train, came in second. Not bad for a guy whose team absolutely vaporized and left him alone at the front. I know Basso is supposedly the golden child for the Tour this year, but I bet Boonen's going to give him a serious run for it. Probably depends on who's got the better crew and who masters the mountains. It'll be interesting to see how the Giro turns out.

In honor of Paris - Roubaix, I rode on the roughest section of bike path I could find (which wasn't too hard to do - the paths in my town need a serious re-paving).

"90 per cent of Ontarians live within five minutes of a Beer Store"

WOOHOO!!!!!

Daphne Supergirl is headed to cottage country and has links to "The Beer Store"...I wonder if Wisconsonites can make such a claim?

Do you like nachos?

Actually, this post has nothing to do with nachos. I was just thinking about a classic Simpsons episode. GHW Bush moves in across the street from the Simpsons. Homer and Bush the Elder get into it because Bush thinks Homer is a bad neighbor - and let's be honest, Homer would be a pain in the ass to live across the street from. Anyway, Bush moves out and Gerry Ford moves in. He meets Homer and asks, "Do you like beer? Do you like nachos?" Soulmates.

Anyway, I really want to start a band. Anybody play bass? I could use a second guitar also. Someone to share vocal duties with would be good. Oh yeah, and I probably could use a drummer, too. Need to know if the stage is level - JOKING, guys. You know that joke, right?

"How can you tell if your stage is level? The drummer's drooling out of both sides of his mouth."

Da-dum dum chiiiiiing.

Today was a long day.

April Fool's Day

Happy April Fool's Day.

Shouldn't we read the news with April-Fool's-Day skepticism every day?