That must’ve been some brown acid.
Or something in the coffee. I don’t know. Bit of jumble, all the points to consider. Somehow, as I was plugging in a few extraneous links, I got stuck in a weird space, and the next couple of weeks are full of old fashioned music video – crap – in other words. But defining crap, anyway.
“You had enough of the eighties, or what, man? What a fucking decade. Jesus, just get me out of it.”
– Sam Kinison, from his “Leader of the Banned.”
No idea how this will play out. Then there’s the “how to” on ripping video from you tube.
Breaking the code:
All I recall, is I loved the book, and prior to seeing the latest ASF version of Richard III, I thought Sir Ian’s performance, on stage and in film, was the defining role model. So this little publicity slug is really tasty. To me, anyway.
Me? I loved the book. But as I noted before, it was fictionalized account of another book I’d read years before, called Holy Blood, Holy Grail. And while that was popularized as journalism, it was, in fact, at least some of it, very made up. Fiction.
I thought Da Vinci Code was better than Holy Blood, and I just figured, from the midpoint in Code, that wrapping the information as fiction, sometimes fiction is more true than truth, and in doing so, the tale was more palatable.
Water:
Hot day, here, without any cloud cover to speak of, and it warns that it’s probably gong to be a very warm summer. Take wandering adventure, some time. I covered six miles, swam all of about two laps in a purloined pool and went for a quick dip in the creek, as well. Six miles, two water stops and two stops for a short shot of espresso, too.
Fish on:
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[/style>He’s not big, and he did shake the hook out on the dock, but I finally got him by the lip. He saw me, and I saw him, and it was face-to-face fishing. One on one. Yeah, he’s fine. There’s another, really big mother, and I kept catching a glimpse of her, but she wouldn’t strike. Yet. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.
More Cowbell!
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