Frog blog

Very nice frog in our basement. We suppose he has lived in there for three years. Either that or several very similar-looking frogs have lived and died and lived there.

Go Paul Krugman! + The End of the World

Paul Krugman kicked climate-change-denier ASS in this article in the Times today, you should read it

And while you're at it, check out the "End of Ze World" video for ol' time sake, because it's brilliant and so, like, four years ago:

I wunt to see mountains Gandalf, mountains!

Really, I do wunt to see mountains. I wunt to live in one of those wood cabins and go skiing, then come home tired and read and bathe in a jacuzzi. Oatmeal in the morning and big warm sweaters every day. And a painting of a moose in my bedroom.

Photo by: my mom, a long time ago.

Words that you should use if you're a professor, dean, or student writing about school:

commitment, opportunity, goals, dreams, excellence, academic, strong, well-rounded, grow, attention, enrichment, individual, experience, success, ensure, motivated, capable, career, thrive, diverse, tradition, strive, create, build, focus, future, professional, cooperation, effective, maximize, strategies, community, effort, care, quality, develop, responsibility, vigor, challenge, inspire, motivate, skills, hone, synthesize, formulate, strategy, communicate, initiate

That's all I can think of. You're welcome.

SAFARI

This is a mink. Some people like to kill minks so they can make them into coats to keep them warm and fancy during the winter.

This mink and its possy live in our basement. We want them out of our basement because they make our house smell like fish. But minks are sneaky bastards so we have not been able to catch them.

Today the mink was stalking me from outside when I was in the living room. So I stalked it back by taking a photo. So there, you sneaky mink!

The new celeb (well, indie celeb) love of my life is Linnea Jönsson, lead singer of the band Those Dancing Days. She's Swedish, she's adorable, and she's got a fro that could kick my fro's ass.



I think I knew it was love when I read her interview with the Village Voice:

Village Voice: What the toughest thing about being an all-girl band and on tour?

Linnea: Menstrual pain.

Act XIII: Livin la vida pena
By Partners in Rhyme

Morning
The end of night
The beginning of the end
Of love, of hate
Of you and me
I awaken.
Sun shines
Eyes open
Heart breaks.
Maria!
Where?
Why?
Who?
Him.
I can smell him
He smells of pine
Pining
An odor that reeks of loneliness
Reeks of hurt
Reeks of sorrow
Reeks of--
Arthur!
That son of a bitch
My hatred seeths
Like a wolf
Like a tundra
Ay curumba!
Has he no shame?
Revenge -- I must have it
Triumph -- I must seize it
Breakfast -- I must grab it on my way out
To nourish my body for war!
A war of the heart!
I carry cupid's deathly arrow!
Venus' painful fire!
One of those sticks with a blade at the end -- you know the one...
The spear of vengeance!
I pack my satchel and go
I find myself at JFK
Running through crowds
Until I spot you--
You!
All full of evil
All full of spite
All full of awful!
Your sparkling blue eyes
And chiseled physique!
I don't know what Maria sees in you!
Fasten your seatbelt
We're in for some turbulence
Arthur, prepare to meet your maker.
Make her.
Her!
Maria!
I see her at the Tasti D-Lite
And I am overcome with
Lust -- when I behold her face
Longing -- when I behold her bussoms
Desire -- also when I behold her bussoms
Hunger -- when I see the Tasti D-Lite
Hold me, Maria!
Ease my pain
Ease my shame
Come home and make me Easy Mac
The way you used to
No one makes it like you
(It's the cheesiest)
Our eyes lock
And the clouds open
I say: Maria. No te vayas.
Senor, she replies, adios.

End.

ACT XII: Twelve is the lonliest number

ACT XII: Twelve is the lonliest number
By Partners in Rhyme

Thought clouds above your head
Thunder clouds above my heart
It's a cumulo-nimbus gone awry
Rye. Rye bread. You never liked wheat
You preferred white -- why?
Yes, why?
Why did you prefer hate to love?
Why did you prefer Arthur to me?
And why didn't you bring your spectacles
On your long journey to Peru?
Questions without answers
Ends without beginnings
Brooms without handles
Sons without their father's love
Daddy?
I remember the night when I came home
Whiskey on my breath and
Pena en mi corason
Ay dios mio!
I am thrown to the wall
And he is there--
Big, mean, terrible
Like a hurricane
Like a volcano
Like a size 36 belt--
I awake in a cold sweat
Father is gone
I am alone
With only my thoughts for company
Some company they are!
I fear this is the end...
But it is only the beginning.

End.

Discussion question

It won't be too hard to imagine this scenario, because it ALWAYS happens: a group of musicians in some sort of rock band are nearing the end of a set. The lead singer steps up to the mic and prefaces the next song with some kind of cheeky nonsense like, "Hey, uh, we made up this song like 14 seconds before we got on stage. It doesn't have a chorus yet and we were stoned when we thought of the first verse. We haven't practiced it-- we don't know what it sounds like yet. So, uh, yeah, let's just see how this goes."

The question for discussion is this: WHY would a band perform a song that they haven't had time to perfect? And why do they think it's cool to tell people that they're about to hear a number that's half-baked?

I'm done. Talk to you in the comments?

GRASSHOPPER

Click here for the results of my photo shoot with Caleb!

How much for baby?

HAPPY 200th BIRTHDAY BFFL!

Hey guys, it's BFFL's 200th birthday!

I made a new picture at the top to celebrate. Drop me a line in the comments thing if you read this blog and want to wish BFFL a happy birthday / reflect on all the good mems you've had together!

Also I want everyone to know that I'll be working even harder (lol) these next 100 posts to keep you happy and entertained. More photos? More pomes? Maybe! Keep checking!

If I've learned anything about life, it's that it's not always about the FTWs.

I have admitted failure on this blog once before, and now I'll do it again. Yesterday I went to my sister's pool to ensure that I could swim the 550 continuous yards that is a prerequisite of my lifeguard course.

And well, my dear readers, I could not swim 550 continuous yards. I could not even swim 100 continuous yards.

I left the pool with crushed dreams, a deflated ego, and shin splints (which I'm told one does not normally get from swimming WTF?!)

This was a humbling experience. But the humbling did not end there, as, walking back to my sister's apartment, my mother proceeded to tell me I was "more of an intellectual than an athlete", and then guffaw at the prospects of me drowning in the process of trying to save someone in the water.

I don't know what this means for my whistle but it doesn't look good, folks. Not good at all.

HUCKLEBERRY FINN- A hip young Huck Finn has a mind-expanding experience after listening to the new Animal Collective album, making him come to the conclusion that slavery totally isn't deck anymore.

THE SLASHER IN THE RYE- A crazed Holden Caulfield escapes from a mental hospital and begins a vicious rampage through the heartlands of America, choosing young children as his victims. Taking them by surprise in fields of rye, he leaves his prey bloodied, with a red hunting cap upon their heads, and a pattern of cut crops nearby spelling the word "Phony."

The truth

I have a confession to make.

Next week I am taking a three day course in order to become a certified lifeguard.

The only reason I will be taking this course, and then seeking out a job as a lifeguard, is that I want a whistle.

I want to twirl the whistle on my finger clockwise. Then I want to twirl it counterclockwise. I want to repeat this all day. I also want to sound the whistle at random to make people fear that they have broken the rules.

When you're the guy with the whistle, you call the shots. I want to be that guy. That's all.

I made this today. It's a magazine cover. I loled at it.