Hello, I love you
From the Local Alternative Weekly: "Musicians for Doors tribute band wanted. If you're into the Doors, this is your chance. I have Jim Morrison covered. Don't have any instruments. Serious inquiries only."
 The force
Communiquation
INT. SYMBIONESE LIBERATION ARMY HEADQUARTERS, 1974 CINQUE MTUME marches around the filthy, cramped headquarters of the SLA, located in a San Francisco garden apartment. He polishes his rifle and dictates a letter to JAMES WITHERSPOON, an attentive young man sitting in the corner. Sixteen years old and eager to please, James nods to himself as he transcribes Cinque's every word into a monogrammed notebook. CINQUE
Read that back.
JAMES "To The Fascist Insect That Preys Upon The Good People In Our Society—" CINQUE (chuckles) Top that, Eldredge. JAMES Can I ask you a question, General Cinque? CINQUE I grant it, Comrade James. JAMES Wouldn’t it be helpful if we simply identified the fascist insect as William Randolph Hearst? CINQUE Starting to think like a soldier of the people’s army. That's good. JAMES Thank you, General. CINQUE To William Randolph Hearst, the Fascist Insect— JAMES And since we’re talking—I don’t want to be a nag, but the SDS is still waiting on that letter of reference you promised in March. CINQUE Nobody likes a grade grubber, Comrade. James flips his notebook shut.
JAMES Well, I think a little group called the Weather Underground might disagree with you, General. They're sending a recruiter next week. CINQUE Sure, now that we’ve got Patty, everyone wants a piece of the pie. PATTY HEARST hops into the room with ropes around her legs and a handkerchief around her mouth. The manners of the 19-year-old heiress are impeccable despite being unable to walk or speak. PATTY Mmmph-mmmph? JAMES I was actually thinking Patty might be able to do a special communique about what a great job I’m doing around the hideout. With the filing and the cleaning and the coffee and everything. PATTY Mmmphh. Cinque performs military-style push-ups in front of her.
CINQUE One communique at a time. Read it back after the salutation. James flings open the notebook in a huff.
JAMES “With this message, we extend our hands in revolutionary love and support to our sisters and brothers so bravely fighting the wretched pigs all over the world.” Cinque nods, pleased. He circles the room.
CINQUE What do you think of that? PATTY Mmmph. Cinque shoots her a look.
PATTY Mmm-mmmph! CINQUE Comrade James? JAMES The tone is okay, but structurally it's kind of a nightmare.
Patty shakes her head furiously.
PATTY Mmmmmmph-phffffmmm!! CINQUE How dare you—in front of a prisoner—put down my beautiful and courageous writing skills like some jiveass pig propaganda machine— JAMES See, you’re doing it again. Often short pithy statements pack the most punch. And the adjectives, come on. Are we paid by the word here? CINQUE James, I'm afraid you have committed a very serious crime. The War Council hereby finds you guilty of insubordination. JAMES The War Council is out getting grinders at Hoagie Hut. CINQUE And for that, they too will be punished. Cinque unwraps the gag from Patty’s mouth and slowly begins to tie it around James who does not resist.
JAMES Okay, good. I can use this. The Black Liberation Army really likes personal hardship in their fellowship appli—mmpphh. Cinque turns to Patty.
CINQUE And what do you have to say for yourself, Patty? PATTY Who? CINQUE Patty, woman! She gazes into the distance.
PATTY I don’t answer to Patty anymore. That was the name of a spoiled little rich girl who stood to inherit millions from her father’s estate. She grabs Cinque's rifle and points it at James.
PATTY (cont'd) Call me Tania! He nods his head nervously.
JAMES Mmmph-hhmm. Mmmphhh. Blackout.
 Hustlers, grab your guns
Specific * Measurable * Action-oriented * Realistic * Time-bound
I've decided that reading everything on the Internet is perhaps too ambitious a goal for one woman. In that spirit, I've also decided to cut down on Google searches such as "what's it all about," "the answer to everything," "magical great solution," and "please just point me in a fucking direction for Christ's sake already." Instead, I've decided to spend more time watching "Apprentice"-style parodies on Fox. I will encapsulate the following highlight of yesterday's episode, and I think you'll agree, I'm headed in a very promising direction: Actor pretending to be billionaire "Mr. Todd" gives shapely women gifts on his yacht. Gifts are all bikinis. Women say, "What? I thought this was a job interview. No way." Then they put them on.
Mr. Todd quizzes women in the hot tub, responding with the line, "That's fascinating," no matter what they say.
The phone rings in the women's suite later that night.
Sexy blonde ingenue Whitney answers. "Oh hey, Mr. Todd," she says. "What's going on?"
"Well," Mr. Todd replies with a chuckle.
"I guess you might say this is the billionaire's version of the drunk dial."
 A pirate in the Virgin Islands, 1989
Great moments in medicine
1) At the dermatologist's office: The male nurse greets me. He is all business. "I need you to undress, put on this gown, and lie face down on the table," he says. "That's what the doctor prefers. Then and only then will he come in the room." The nurse leaves, and the inspection unfolds according to plan. Afterwards, the doctor asks if I have any questions. "How I can tell what a precancerous mole looks like?" I ask. "You see," he says. "That's a tough one. It's like the difference between Chinese and Koreans. They look so similar. And that's why you need experts." He grins. "Any other questions?" "Should I do anything different for my skin?" I ask. "Oh no, no, no," he says. "You don't need anything. Just wear a short skirt, a little lipstick, you'll be fine." He grins. "Any other questions?" 2) At the dentist's office: Surrounded by ads for Colgate teeth brightening kits, I lie in the chair. A cell phone lying in the instrument tray begins to chirp. My dentist pauses his scraper midair. He can't resist. He peeks at the caller ID. "Ooo yeah," he says. "I'm going to want to take this one." 3) At the hospital: Half asleep, I enter the radiology suite. My gynecologist is talking to an animated female patient. She's teasing and patting. He's stern and chart-examining. A nurse waits behind, ready to wheel her out. My doctor nods at me. "Hello, Amanda," he says. "I'll be with you in a minute." The patient is jovial. "Wooo. You're going to love this doctor," she says to me. "He's cute, too!" She looks at me and the doctor. "Y'all the same height, huh?" I blink and nod. She laughs and turns to the doctor. "I'll bet you can't wait to get on up into that!"
 A complex equation
Cease to resist
The man in the suede fringed jacket wants to hear none of it. "We were never intimate," the man tells the woman. The woman looks down. The man pats her leg. They are sipping brews in the upper balcony of the Milwaukee Theater. The Pixies are expected soon. The man heard they rocked. He is withered fratboy handsome. There appears to be charcoal smudged around his eyes. His golden locks are meticulously swept into a tousled cascade. She is a free spirit. She has always been a free spirit. He likes that about her. She likes that about him. She is nervous about this confrontation. She wants to go with the flow. She is a go with the flow kind of girl but sometimes has trouble with where the flow goes. "Staci just said she felt funny about seeing you," the woman says, gripping her beer. He leans his suede jacket back in disgust. "If she thinks something happened, she's just—she's fucking sick," the man says, chasing the sentiment with a long swig of MGD. "I helped her move a couple of times. I brought my chipper over. She's just sick if she thinks it was something more." A quiet late-20s rocker needs to get past the handsome chipper. "I'm sorry, do you—" the rocker says hesitatingly. This was a bad time to interrupt. The chipper stands up. He is very dramatic. "TOLLBOOTH!" he bellows. "Anyone ELSE need to get through? Anyone?" He peers into the darkness and winks. The woman fidgets with her peasant's blouse. It was a good joke, but she is focused on the matter at hand. "Maybe you should just talk to her," she says. A few minutes pass. The suggestion sinks. The quiet is only broken by the rocker's return. Now he needs to get back to his seat. The chipper stretches out his hand to the young man, blocking his path. The chipper curls his fingers to indicate he is like a tollbooth worker. His acting is tremendous. There is tense silence. There is uneasy laughter. The chipper withdraws his hand and flings both arms into the air with carefree abandon. The row is cleared for the rocker to walk. The chipper is all smiles and good nature. "Listen," the man says, turning to the woman with finality. "Everyone's entitled to their own particular prerogative. That's what I think. That's my prerogative. End of story." The lights go down. The Pixies go up. The man and woman are gone by the third song.
 I have seen this movie and would like to submit a comment
The daily show
1) From Rahul: ...This is a time to wallow in the defeat.
Let's not shrug it off too quickly. Let's acknowledge what it means in a world that is in the process of being torn apart by a new crusade. When we move on to try to find hope, let's start with a rational core, not one built out of wishful thinking, fantasies about how the world works, and self-congratulation.... 2) From Kyle: ...if anyone's interested, i'm going to make an 'americans travelling abroad' survival pack. you can choose from either the fake canadian passport or the t-shirt that says 'i'm an american and i'm SO FUCKING SORRY.'
 A chill in the air
What's the frequency, Kenneth
Dan Rather is in a tizzy. His younger, pinker counterpart is conjuring up textured maps on a plasma screen with a wave of his pinky. Demographics rise and fall. Touch-screen graphics glitter and twirl. He need only wiggle his index finger and the future is predicted with bold primary colors. Rather has a Bic. He's quoting---everything. "You know what they say," Rather says. "It's delicious, it's delightful, it's delovely." He's ignoring all good sense, counting like a madman, ignoring the suits to his left and right, blinking and smiling, circling his Bic on red, then blue, then red, then blue. He has the syncopation of Eminem. "Ohio, Ohio, Ohio, Ohio." Ed Bradley steps in, and Rather sweeps him aside with the logic of a longtime newsman. "If a frog had side pockets," Rather barks, "he'd carry a handgun."
 Skull and Bones
John Kerry: A lifetime of...oh, fuck it
There's nothing more depressing than the hopefully optimistic get out the vote call this number with voting problems make your vote count together we can make a difference Web site refreshed, refreshed, refreshed, refreshed with no...updates. Jesus christ, has anyone told the Web site? It is so happy. Chirpy, smiling, offering links with open arms and a punchy fist in the air. Do you want to donate? OKAY! Learn more about our message? RIGHT-O! Have you visited our press center? PLEASE DO! Want to take up arms? CHECK OUT OUR FAQS! Going to Iraq against your will? READ OUR OFFICIAL BLOG! Already in Iraq? CONTACT US! A gaping head wound? Your arm blown off? Can't feel your legs? WE NOW HAVE A FEEDBACK FORM!
 Pom
Well-heeled in Starbucks
The Young Man listens to his Mother and Father, nodding politely. "Well," Father says, stroking his beard, "there certainly are a lot of these coffee shops nowadays." They shift on the wooden chairs and look at one another. Mother touches Young Man's arm. Young Man touches his cell phone. Father touches his pumpkin bread. It is a consensus that does not need verbalization. "You wouldn't believe it," Mother declares. "Jimmy is taking drum lessons." Young Man nods and checks to make sure he is not missing anything interesting outside the window. A newspaper box and some parking meters. Rain. "You should see him," Mother says, jabbing her manicured finger in the air. "He is just banging away all the time." Young Man nods and looks out the window. Still nothing. They sip their lattes uncomfortably. Young Man's cell phone rings. He holds one hand up with his finger partway in the air to indicate he is on the phone. "Hey, Babe," Young Man says. He looks at his parents, grinning. "Not much," he replies. "Just sitting here at Starbucks. Yeah. Yeah. That sounds good. We could do dinner—" Young Man covers the receiver politely. "Do you want to do dinner here in town?" Mother and Father agree this is a good strategy, and he communicates the plan. He flips the phone off triumphantly. "She's gotten some really awesome offers," Young Man confides, slipping his cell phone into its holster. "Really awesome. A joint offer from IBM and the university. And that's not the only one. They're all awesome." Mother is pleased. Father is pleased. Pumpkin bread never tasted so good. Father strokes his beard. "And what about you?" he probes. "How is it going for you?" Young Man stares out the window. Everything is still there, visible and blurred. "It all depends," Young Man answers. He lifts his latte to his lips and lowers it. "I just need to land some place really great. Then everything will be fine."
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