Yes, I know you’ve been waiting on the edge of your seats for this week’s 6 Degrees of Casey Serin™ challenge and, yes, this is a rather easy one, but I just had to do it. Maybe I’ll try to think about considering another more difficult one later this weekend.
This Friday’s sweet™ challenge is Casey Serin to Scooter Libby.
WooHoo!!!
For those late to the party the 6 Degrees of Casey Serin to Paris Hilton, another prominent looser of the week, polls are still open.
So as I may have mentioned before, I've been sorting through old crap my parents are tired of storing in their attic and came across Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. It was in a box that included my first embroidered DisneyLand Mickey Mouse hat and other useless junk only a mom would save. When I was about the age of the kid ("look with care for the shape of a square...") in Close Encounters it was my favorite book, yet I had completely forgotten about it.
I love this line and Alexander's expression:
At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal.
As I recall, I felt even more cheated than Alexander, because we never had cereal that included a toy prize inside. I wonder if Nigel did?
On to other random news in the blogosphere.
For some reason this MONDO SCHLOCKO image brought to mind our favorite dynamic duo.
I may need to rethink the 6 Degrees of Casey Serin game I had in mind for today. It's probably too easy...
Yet another update...
Bizarre blog post of the morning: The Groovy Age of Horror: SERIE NON STOP 1: Uomini e Sangue (Men and Blood), part 2
VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.
Since the above image so popular, why not post it again? I rather like the alien-like appearance of this source of thinspiration.
A few passages:
Dead land, broken images, fear and dust, all take on the significance of human failure
I had not thought death had undone so many
Nonetheless, perhaps it's time to fully appreciate The Hollow Men.
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
F the KC crap. This is my blog and I shall quote my favorite poem as much as I choose.
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
...
And the AWESOME finale...
Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the thunder
D A
Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
D A
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
D A
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallow
Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih
Further details to follow if Vista, Dr. Benway, et al. don't eat our memory card.Disgusting find of the day: hairball in human stomach
UPDATE: In the spirit of "keepin' it organic" we've added a new entry, Northern Renter, and loosened the polling standards.
