Archive for December of 2006
December 27, 2006
Between the Years
Right now we're all in that No-Man's-Land of time that the Germans call "between the years", cold and dark days of suspended animation between the Christmas and New Year's holidays, with the presents unwrapped but the champagne bottles still corked, the old year essentially gone but the new year not yet arrived. I feel like I'm floating somewhere outside of the universe, with no worries or pressures waiting for me when I get back in. I had forgotten what that feels like.
Today I was walking down the Schulterblatt, just getting some shopping done, when it dawned on me that I was in a good mood. And it wasn't because some software I designed passed an acceptance test, or because I had gotten a bonus, or because I just had a stiff drink, or because some girl smiled at me, or because I had a good workout or had been to a good concert or had spent the day playing with my kids. I just felt good, for no particular reason at all. Just for the hell of it.
Today I didn't wear a watch for most of the day, and I didn't know what time it was. I still don't know what day of the week it is. And I don't care. My vision of paradise.
December 24, 2006
This is sick, evil, awful and wrong
December 06, 2006
In Which I Challenge Dubya to Three Rounds
President George W. Bush
The White House
Dear Mr. President,
I hereby publicly challenge to you to a boxing match, three rounds of two minutes, to be conducted according to the rules of USA Boxing (Master Division), with a referee, judges, ring physician, the standard protective equipment, and any medical precautions you may feel necessary. This is not a joke or a bluff. I will meet you at any time, at any place, and under any conditions you stipulate, as long as the rules for a fair match apply.
And let me tell you something, Mr. President, you're going down in one. Here's how I'm gonna knock you out: I'll create an opening with a combination jab, then stun you with a left uppercut, and then, here it comes, the RIGHT HOOK, WHAM, and that's what's gonna wipe the frat-boy smirk clean off your face. You'll be out before you hit the mat.