October 08, 2006

Finding Your Audience

In our household, the catchphrase is in honor of my 11-year-old fan, who heard me read at a party once and now wants to see all my work. Fortunately, she doesn't yet know about this blog, so I don't have to clean up my act here. But her taste for my autobiographical writing leaves me with a continual question as to how intense things can get—not so much with respect to sex, but in matters of violence and emotional sturm und drang.

If her name is Carol, the household conversation goes something like this: "don't worry, Honey; you'll find your Carol." We say that to each other over and over again.

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You Tell Me:

What makes Harry Potter so special?

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October 07, 2006

"Why Don't Republicans Need Bookmarks?" He Asks.

"I have no idea."
"They just bend over the page."
"Cute," I tell him. "Are you done?"
"Not quite. What did the GOP leadership say when it got everyone together to talk about the '06 elections?"
I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows.
He continues: "We've got to get everyone on the same page."
"It's not fair," I scold. "The word 'page' makes it too easy. From now on, we should only send salacious emails to . . . I dunno. Hunky young armadillos or something."

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Hey, I've Been Out for Years

But all the cool kids are doing it, so I'll reiterate: I'm a right-wing sex fiend myself. And within my rather amazing middle-aged female body reside both a gay woman and a gay man.

Gay! I tell you. Gay, gay, gay!

And sex-loving! Yes!

Confess, right-wingers. ConFESS!

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October 06, 2006

So, I Wrote That Scene I'd Been Putting Off.

Then I went back in and embedded some more allusions in the text—including a luscious quote from W.B. Yeats. At some point some asshole editor is going to take it out, but not for a while yet.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, ya know.

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I Need a Thumb Drive.

I at least need to create a backup backup of my murder mystery files (say, 250 pages in 30 different documents [including character studies, outlines and the like]).

If I add my other fiction/essays/fiddle faddle to it, that could well be another 250 pages, in a similar number of files.

So how small can the jump drive be? Can someone convert that amount of text into a ballpark number of megs for me? You know how I hate dealing with figures . . .

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"Where Are You Going?"

I ask Attila the Hub.

"To the gym."

I look up from my laptop. "You're doing that to show me up, aren't you? Just trying to annoy me?"

"Oh, no," he reassures me. "I'm doing it because I want to. If it bothers you, that's just a value-added kind of thing."

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Twenty-Five Days

. . . until my Vomit Draft is finished. I want an unbroken narrative of the mystery done by Halloween. If I need to expand things after that, or change them around in the second draft, that's just freaking fine.

Some of this stuff does strike me as awfully vomity. Of course, there are those passages that I want to embroider on my clothing, and wear around town.

Would people look at me funny if I did that?

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"No, She Doesn't Want Help,"

explains the lady who's setting out literature in my Twelve-Step meeting. "She wants to handle the refreshments all by herself—even though it isn't her job—so she can get mad because she's doing too much for this meeting."

She looks at me again, and immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry," she tells me. "That was harsh."

"Why apologize?" I ask. "It's completely true, and everyone knows it." I keep setting up the food.

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Is It Me . . .

Or are the Democratic and Republican leaderships basically involved in a contest to see how far they can get their respective heads up their oversized asses?

Just askin'. In the most tactful way I know how.

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October 05, 2006

The Foley Follies

I'm not going to defend the GOP leadership, but it looks like ABC should be under the microscope along with Hastert.

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Freaking Rethuglican Bigots.

They make me sick.

Oh. Wait . . .

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Hm.

I'm with Brendan Loy and Glenn Reynolds: the "prank" interpretation of the Foley scandal doesn't really explain everything. And if it were pure prank—that is, Foley was in on it, and just screwing around—would he have resigned?

Unless, of course, the whole thing is part of the egregious habit Democratic bigots have of outing gay Republicans.

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Green Hypocrisy

Environmentalist jet-setters and the "greenhouse effect."

Via Glenn.

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October 04, 2006

What's Going On?

There is a draft coming in. I had to put socks on, and I'm considering closing the window.

Next thing you know, I'll have to put a jacket in the back seat of my car every fucking time I leave the house. I'm getting pretty sick of these goddamned weather extremes.

Fuck; it's just out of fucking control.

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Iowahawk Rox

And he's getting funnier as he gets weirder. There's this, for example, on the most recent Bill Clinton meltdown:

Had He witnessed the selfless magnificence of the former presidentÂ’s honesty, Christ Himself would have been inspired to rip His very hands free of their crucifixial spikes, switch the channel to ESPN-Palestine, and punch Himself in His nards out of unworthiness.

Beautiful.

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October 03, 2006

I Haven't Said

. . . anything about the Amish school shooting. I know I've had the same moment of sheer homicidal rage most decent people have experienced when hearing the story, but I also know that I don't pretend to have an antidote to human evil: my mission as a political animal is to keep it from becoming widespread, as it is in North Korea and as it is in the nations/areas that employ Sharia law.

But Kat has a solid Christian take on that heart-wrenching event.

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It's No Secret

. . . that Condi didn't move with enough alacrity in the summer of '01. But it's a bit rich for the Democrats to claim that the Bush Administration should have done, in eight months, what the Clinton Administration failed to accomplish in eight years.

Via Glenn.

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"You Leave Him Alone,"

B admonishes.
"I haven't done anything," I squeal.
"But you've thought about it."
"I don't think about things. I barely noticed he was a cute young redhead."
B. looks at me. "Joy, he's like 12 years old."
"More like 22. But who's keeping track?"
"Anyway, I just don't see the attraction. The kid talks too much."
"Verbal is good. Verbal rox. But you know, I think I could get him to shut up for a while."
"I'll bet you could, you dirty old lady."

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October 01, 2006

The "Blue Dress" of Terrorism

Don Surber points out that we know when Clinton is lying, because that's when he wags his finger at whomever he's talking to.

I'm not sure it'll ever be clear which individual gave the order to spare Bin Laden's life during the Clinton Administration. But it's clear that no one thought he/she had the political cover to do it, because no one felt that Clinton would fully back them up if it went awry.

Via Glenn.

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