I thought it, now I’m trademarking it.
Remember: that’s (tm, me)!
The Kurt Cobain Christmas album
An internal ABC Radio Networks memo obtained by Media Matters for America, originally from a listener to The Peter B. Collins Show, indicates that nearly 100 ABC advertisers insist that their commercials be blacked out on Air America Radio affiliates. According to the memo, the adverstisers insist that “NONE of their commercials air during AIR AMERICA programming.” Among the advertisers listed are Bank of America, Exxon Mobil, Federal Express, General Electric, McDonald’s, Microsoft, Wal-Mart, and the U.S. Navy.
The federal government’s “no sex without marriage” message isn’t just for kids anymore.
Now the government is targeting unmarried adults up to age 29 as part of its abstinence-only programs, which include millions of dollars in federal money that will be available to the states under revised federal grant guidelines for 2007.
Tell me again, righties, about the perils of the nanny state. Go on, tell me. You self-hating, closeted, repressed fingertards.
Actual conversation, circa Grumpy age 17, with my religious-but-otherwise-brilliant neighbor Twofer.
INT. car – day.
Two teenagers are having a conversation in the backseat of the car. TWOFER, an attractive, brilliant, religious Asian woman is talking with PREGRUMPY, a rationalist flowering along with his hormones. HANS, the teacher, is driving and oblivious of the conversation.
These anti-condom, abstinence crusades are just ridiculous. We’re animals! We’re never going to stop having sex.
We are more than animals – what distinguishes us is our ability to control when we have sex.
You really think we’re not animals?
You know, sex feels good for a reason, Twofer. That’s why we have so many nerve endings in our genitalia.
Twofer stares at Pregrumpy, gobsmacked.
I wouldn’t know.
Apparently, Twofer wasn’t much for taking care of her own business much less taking care of it with another. Needless to say, we did not hit it. Which was, I must say, a rather unfortunate outcome. At least for yours truly… and my never-to-be-born 300 kids.
This morning as I was hitting the snooze button and trying to get Ms. Grumpy up to take her
monthly sprint through the car wash shower, I started saying the most random things ever. Things that made total sense to me at the time, were completely logical, and things upon which all reasonable persons could agree.
Your brights are on.
Your brights are on.
Your. BRIGHTS. are. ON.
In my head I had a picture of this little icon in the top left corner of my vision. And the icon was lit up with a white (slight bluish tint), rectangular with rounded edges. The background of the icon was the solid white, the icon for “brights” was a single thick line pointing from NW to SE (icon box-relative), kind of like a compass needle. It was lit up, which meant her brights were on… which was important to know, because she needed that information in order to get into the shower.
See, awesome, huh! I hope when I do go insane it’s just as whimsical and interesting. Perhaps less functional and maybe with some more colors, please.
EXT. – SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF LIBRARY – MORNING
Sounds of traffic. A cab honks at a slow pedestrian in the crosswalk. In the background, an orca-fat woman with attached kid strolls across the frame. She is wearing flip flops and sweatpants cut into capris. The child clings to her front like a witch who collided with a tree while doing 60 mph. The woman’s hair is long, greasy, stringy shrew brown. Teeth yellowed. Skin blemished.
BUTTERNUT looks back at woman
That’s the worst thing I’ve seen all month.
Have you seen my colon?