Tag: Sentential Links

Yup, this will be a roundup of sentential stuff pertaining to how various bloggers spent their Christmases, and what they got, and what they still want, and what they got their significant others, and why George W. Bush is bad President. (Yeah, that last has nothing to do with Christmas, really — but what else am I gonna do with all those political bloggers I read who don’t blog about what they got for Christmas?)

:: I loved it! I’ve been in the *I want to join the Peace Corps* mood lately and I think this book helped to nurture my sense of adventure. (And do go check out Jen’s newest template, which may be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, given that my college graduation present from my parents was a fuzzy Persian kitten.)

:: So, today I cooked 3 racks of babybacks and a 10 pound brisket. (Well, I made some yummy peanut and almond clusters last week, and in the great game of “Rock Paper Scissors” of the food world, chocolate beats meat.

Well, OK, no, it doesn’t. Shut up and pass the steak.)

:: Rain and fog is decidedly not my idea of a Buffalo Christmas. (Yeah, what was up with that?)

:: So just when we thought things were looking bleak for finding homes for the pets, we had our little Christmas miracle.

:: What is a Christmas book? (Damned if I know….)

:: Instead I was absolutely fascinated with polar explorers like Roald Amundsen and many others. I read up every book I could find on them in the library and wished very much I could have taken part in a polar expedition myself. Even today I am dreaming about spending in year on Spitzbergen. (It seems that The Gray Monk has a co-blogger aboard. I have got to stop forgetting about this blog.)

:: (There are no low-fat Hannukah treats as far as I know. The Hannukah miracle = lots of oil.) (Wow, I have got to try this recipe sometime.)

:: You know what you see when you go out on Christmas day? Very few white people. Very few black people. Many Vietnamese people at the Eden Center. And (later) at the Mall, Hispanic people. (You also see, if you’ve run out of milk, the clerk at the local 7-11 whose facial expression says, “Yeah, I drew the short straw, and I’m greetin’ every customer with a frown and a grunt. Suck it.”)

:: More than this, it’s the feeling of forced merriment that annoys me about Christmas songs. This false cheer floats freely in the air and, if you’re American at least, there’s not much you can do about it unless you want to head to the woods with a rifle, buckskin coat, and a dog-eared copy of How to Shit in the Woods. And I’ve no interest in becoming the Unabomber.

:: I just got off the phone with my girlfriend Miller, who is just one of my absolute favorite people on the planet, and just had her second run-in with obnoxious retailers in as many weeks. (This crap doesn’t happen where I work. I’m just sayin’.)

:: I don’t need a Ghost of Christmas Past to revisit the good old days. I still remember well one of the best Christmases ever, way way back when I was 11. But then, Christmas is always at its best when you are young enough to revel in it, and old enough to spend a month anticipating it.

:: Whenever the Bush Administration wants to ramp up its fear-mongering in order to scare people into complying with its agenda, it always turns to its buzzing ace in the hole – the radiological bomb.

:: The Gospel According to Scrooge ignores this, because the churches that put the play on reject the idea that good works are what get you into heaven.

You’d think that a typically slow week in Blogistan would result in me having to dig around more for Sentential Goodness, but as usual, it wasn’t that hard. More next week, as we head into 2006.

(BTW, I’ll be updating the blogroll sometime this week, doing a little pruning and a lot of adding, so keep an eye on that. Or not.)

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Last month, before my attentions were consumed by sadder events, I was providing a bit of blogger uplift to the folks who left AOL Journals for other blogging venues after AOL forced ad-banners on their already-paying customers’ journals. I meant to collate all of the links to former AOLers in Blogistan in one post, but I never got around to it. So that’s what I’m doing in this Very Special Edition of Sentential Links! Check all of these out. Lots of good stuff out there.

:: This morning, like most mornings in the fall and winter, I hear crows just outside my window.

:: None of this is original, but it helps me to remember that great joy can come to the ugliest, lowest and darkest of places.

:: The drumming was inspiring and achingly beautiful in its complexity…… and there were somehow far more drummers than the fifteen to twenty women and two wonderful teens in that room. The drumming very much feels prayerful and sacred and I wish that you all could experience this at least once in your lifetime.

:: That means boys, if your woman is listening to Alanis Morissette a lot, you better get on your best behavior, and pronto…. lest you find yourself the object of some divine whiplashing words.

:: Every year around this time, I write a letter to my dear friend Kristin to let her in on the happenings in my life since I saw her last.

:: I wonder now if selective memory for everyone is a good idea. By that I mean would it not be better to lay out all your memories side by side and decide which ones to keep and which ones to erase?

:: I like to eat my Skittles (and other multi-colored candies) in color order. First all the orange. Then all the green and yellow, in pairs, to make lemon-lime. Then purple. Then red. My husband thinks this is odd (he just chows on them by the rainbow handful). I like to savor the individual flavors.

:: Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she had had one of those back alley abortions. Would my soul have found another way to come to her? Were our destinies always planned as mother and daughter? Why so young? Why did my Dad have to be murdered in 1979?

:: My grandmother is nearing 100 this winter, nearly blind and deaf, fretting away her final days with only her thoughts to occupy her. I hope she remembers nights like this, when nature’s power held sway right off her own back porch.

:: After I left Florida with out saying a word to anyone, my mother put a missing persons report out on me.

:: You’ll never guess what I discovered in one of the filing drawers of my double-wide cubicle.

:: Blame the rhino in my head!

:: My gift to all of you who humored me as I recounted the day Holly was born is to share 18 years of Holly and her Christmas tree.

:: I remember when I first realized I was parenting for everyone else but my children.

:: My “caffeine low” light is flashing.

It’s entirely possible that I missed someone who might have sent me their link. If that’s the case, and you’re still around, either re-send or leave a link in comments.

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Hoo-ray! More sentential goodness. Bask in it, I tell you! BASK!

:: Niagara Falls’ casino was located in the old, leaky Convention Center. It’s the place to go to see septuagenarians smoke cigarettes in a public indoor setting. If you miss walking out of a place stinking like a carton of Lucky’s, this is your go-to place. If you can’t get enough of tan Buicks making right turns at 2 mph, get thyself to the Falls. (I’ve tried to hold my nose and accept the idea of casinos, but I just can’t do it. I hate the idea. Hate it. I hate the idea of seizing private property to turn it over to an Indian Nation to run it, forever taking it off the tax rolls. I hate the fact that not only does the state get a pittance from the casino profits, the average Indians themselves don’t much benefit. I hate the packaging of the casinos as a tourist attraction, when there’s gambling just about everywhere nowadays. I hate that the state is gung-ho about shit like this but doesn’t seem to notice that our state’s business climate is about as inviting as a speakeasy to which one doesn’t know the password. I hate this casino crap.)

:: We are eager to welcome such a musician and person to our faculty. (Snarfle!)

:: I think that if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t do anything as trivial as using it to take out Hitler before he caused all that trouble. I’d go all the way and pick up Abraham.

:: At the end of 1958, he’s still not drawn quite like the iconic Snoopy of today, but he’s getting closer. (I gotta read these!)

:: Tonight was one of the best nights out I have had in a long, long time. (Now I have two big-time U2 fans on my blogroll.)

:: There is a Buffalo story behind the “Biggest Rock Band In The World” and it was referenced a few times last night from the stage by Bono, the following is what I know: (Yeah, click to read the rest. It’s fascinating. Once again, the world owes Buffalo a debt of gratitude and doesn’t know it. Buffalo’s the Fox Mulder of cities, I swear….)

:: Over the past two days I made 6 batches of peanut brittle from five different recipes. (And she gives all five recipes, with results — one recipe resulted in some well-fed crows, and probably not in the way that George R.R. Martin had in mind. [Geek humor there.] Go look!)

:: One thing you have to give Chris Wallace. He is a supremely objective journalist who never lets any of his political views or ideological leanings be known. (I just found this blog last week, and I think it’s brilliant. I particularly recommend this post, as well as this one, for those who scoff at comparisons between Iraq and Vietnam. Maybe the answer to the question of why the MSM won’t report how wonderful things are over there is because, well, maybe they aren’t. Just a thought.)

:: I’ve heard a version of “Frosty the Snowman” that sounds as if it was recorded in the 1990s as a collaborative project between Portishead and Underworld, cold chilly techno complete with jaded female vocals. What did we do to deserve this? (OK, that’s the entire post. But it’s a good question: what did we do to deserve that?)

:: There are many classic authors that I am not yet a good enough reader to appreciate, but humility tells me that the flaw is in my understanding, not in the author’s work. Not that any author’s work achieves god-like perfection, but if millions have learned something from a given piece of literature and I receive nothing, perhaps I need to work a little harder. (I bookmarked this a while back and forgot about it. So here it is.)

:: This is what we adults do, isn’t it? Defer our dreams. Dismiss our dreams. Deny our dreams. Dash our dreams. (Not anymore, dammit. Let that be my son’s legacy.)

Enough for now. Enjoy.

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It’s only been two weeks, and yet it feels like a year since the last installment of “Sentential Links”. For those new to this blog, this is a series — usually appearing on Mondays — in which I throw up a grab-bag of links to posts on other blogs that I’ve found interesting, in the form of an excerpt no more than a sentence or two long. I’ve found it a fun way of linking stuff I’ve liked (and, more importantly, bloggers I’ve liked).

So here goes:

:: They are just obstacles or tools to her. She is too practical and selfish to care one way or another, except in how they cause her trouble or are useful to her. (This is in reference to Scarlett O’Hara. Lance Mannion’s been talking about Gone With the Wind a bit lately — see also here — and I note that I’ve never been bothered by the film’s racism. Sure, I’ve noticed it, because it’s so obvious, but I’ve always been fairly good at looking past the attitudes of earlier times. I just don’t like the movie because of what Lance says right here: Scarlett O’Hara is such a spoiled little brat. Seriously, I can’t stand her, and it always galls me that it takes three hours for Rhett Butler to realize that he doesn’t give a damn when I stopped giving a damn within five minutes of meeting Miss Scarlett.)

:: As discussed at length elsewhere, I still very much enjoy the oft-maligned current and past few seasons of ER. (Though I’ve given up on ER, as I noted back when, I’m still more well-versed on ER than I want to be, since The Wife still watches the show and I still end up catching bits of it while I’m trying to read or blog or do whatever while the show is on. John cites the Neela/Gallant union as a high point of recent ER seasons, and I’m inclined to agree, even if the show has had few high points recently, as far as I’m concerned. It amazes me that the obvious thing to do — have Gallant die in action in Iraq — hasn’t happened yet, and that is, admittedly, to the credit of the writers. Though they could still do it, and the show is still a shell of what it once was.)

:: Do orchestras play well enough? (That’s actually a header to a fascinating post. And read the follow-up here, in which Mr. Sandow gives a specific example of what he means about orchestras not playing well enough.

:: Q: What is the definition of an optimist? (Yes, you’re gonna groan when you click through and find out. But do it anyway.)

:: I’m all for economic development — even given gambling’s potential downside. But if it requires that New York citizens to give up their property by government edict, the game’s over. (For me, the game was over a long time ago. I just don’t see the economic upside to a Seneca casino, and to me the idea of taking yet more developable land off the tax rolls forever in downtown Buffalo makes about as much sense as building a new University out on some swampland in a distant suburb. But then, we already did that, so….)

:: Until I complete the work on my magic crystal ball `o truth, I’m going to have to oppose the death penalty, coupled with real life w/o parole reforms. (That about sums it up with me: you never know if you’ve got the right guy, and you can let the wrong guy out, but you can’t resuscitate the wrong guy once you’ve killed him. I wouldn’t cut them totally off from the outside world, though — I’d at least let them read books and newspapers, and maybe a TV if they can get any signal via rabbit ears. But that’s it. If I don’t get cable, neither do the convicted murderers. And broadband Internet? No way!)

:: You will be safe behind Rush’s rippling pecs. (My eyes! My eyes!)

:: Meanwhile Roger L. Simon thinks that cute-as-a-button Reese Witherspoon is “flat-out, hands-down the finest actress in American commercial cinema today” which I take to mean that Roger has been blowing some of that VC money on the good shit. (Ms. Witherspoon’s a fine actress, certainly. But the “finest in American commercial cinema today”?! Wow.)

:: Anyway, for those who are following along at home, The Thing in question is this one, also mentioned here and here but it is not this one and it’s definitely not that other one that I guess I forgot to write up. (Huh?!)

:: John Derbyshire: gay sex is a crime against nature, but if your girlfriend can drink legally, she’s past her prime. All righty then. (Yup, the Derb said it, all right: “It follows that we are at ease with the fact that the human female is visually attractive to the human male at, or shortly after, puberty, and for only a few brief years thereafter.” That guy is just flat-out loony. What a bizarre thing to believe. My own wife is more beautiful to me now than she was ten years ago, and she’s well past what The Derb seems to think is “attractive”. And come to think of it, of all the beautiful women in my life, not only are each and every one of them past 25, many of them are even past 30. And as a bonus, here’s another dumb thing I read by The Derb this week:

To my kids I should like to say: I am sorry to have brought you into this mess. There were no bells ringing, no bands playing, at either of your births, and it would have been a travesty if there had been. Even the wisest of us — people like your Dad, I mean — live in part by instinct, and there is no instinct stronger than the one that prompts us to continue the species; so here you are. I am sorry, sorry. There was the Greatest Generation. Then there was ours, the Luckiest. Yours will be the Saddest. Quite possibly — so far as this civilization is concerned, at any rate — it will be the Last. I shall continue to do my best for you as long as I can, but… après moi le Deluge.

Shorter Derb: “Boy, now that we’ve pissed in the pool, it sure does suck that our kids are gonna have to swim through that icky shade of yellow. Oh well. Good luck with that.”

Suck it, Derb.)

:: Not only is it quicker than trying to launch a brand-new operation, but it also offers an effective way to hurdle such entry barriers as acquiring technological know-how, establishing supplier relationships, becoming big enough to match rivals’ efficiency and unit costs, having to spend large sums on introductory advertising and promotions, and securing adequate distribution. (Make it stop!)

OK, that’s enough for this week. Some of these, by the way, come from blogs of folks who dropped by to offer their condolences and well-wishes in the comments here over the last week. I’ve bookmarked them all (I think, anyway — there were a lot of them) and I’m enjoying looking through them all.

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This is the half-year edition of Sentential Links, give or take a few by way of weeks missed for vacation or whatnot. I really enjoy gathering these links, so long may the tradition continue!

:: Another long, lonely, and empty day awaits. (The woman who posted last week’s heartrending single entrant in this series has posted a follow-up. I’d like to be able to say that I can’t imagine the pain she is going through, but the problem is, I look at Little Quinn and realize that I actually can imagine it, all too easily. I can’t express enough, though, my admiration at her bravery in writing about even the tiniest fraction of the feelings she is experiencing right now. Someday, I think that strength will serve her well, if it hasn’t already.)

:: The visuals are so lush, so beautiful, so breathtaking and, in certain ways, so touching, that my mouth was agape for the entire movie, just like a kid in a movie theater of old. To put it plainly and simply, not necessarily in that order – Mr. Miyazaki makes magic. (Bruce Kimmel is an old hand of various online film music communities, and he has a long show-business career. His blog is fun to read, although I rarely know much about what he’s talking about. If you’re looking for an “inside showbiz” kind of blog, check him out.)

:: The White House’s actions don’t really make sense unless on some level they believed what they were saying — as we can see, getting caught is inevitable when it comes to something like this — but any information, no matter how dubious, that supported the conclusion they wanted to believe would just go right on through the pipeline no matter how many times somebody tried to tell them to slow down. (I think that the rejoinder to “How did Bush lie?” is to reply that he lied in the worst way: he and his people lied to themselves. Once you do that, lying to everyone else is a piece of cake.)

:: Look. Look up. Pony! Loomin’, jumpin’ pony. Hop, hippo, hop. Joy! Poop. Pumilio. Milk on my yo-yo. Loin, junk, Polk, pin, plink, plonk, hum. Oil, pomp, lumkin. (Hey look! Dr. Myers is speaking in tongues!)

:: The mere thought of wandering by a store where people stinkables are on display makes me shudder. What’s next, advertising for boner pills on television? (There’s a store in a Buffalo neighborhood that sells lingerie, and displays its wares in its front window. Won’t someone please think of the children!)

:: Scott pointed out to me that this gull looks like Mr. Burns. (Holy crap! It does!)

:: Too bad some 18th century medical experts did not devise an apparatus to transfuse blood from Hector Berlioz to the dying Mendelssohn to revive him with some of the Frenchman’s élan vitale. Even had the experiment utterly failed, it would have produced the unintended benefit of cutting short Berlioz’ career. (And thus does Mr. Himebaugh become my sworn enemy. Willingly cutting short Berlioz’s career? Pshaw! Pistols at dawn, says I!)

:: Alan you are such a liar; anyone that [sic] reads this nonsense has to just laugh. You get the same comments from the same people 90% of the time. When your not around you get NO comments period because you write 99% of the comments yourself. (This is actually a comment to one of BuffaloPundit’s posts. I reproduce said comment here because the grammatical and arithmetical trainwreck is just too precious to ignore.)

:: Sometimes I think about creating a website called Homicide Girls, where the subscription fees go towards funding human-hunts in the lawless wilds of the Ukraine. (Sign me up!)

:: So they call themselves Conservatives, vote Republican, complain about their taxes, tell their jokes, and then rant and rave like hell when their streets don’t get plowed and their sewers back up and their grandmother’s Social Security check is late and their cousin comes home from Iraq without a leg and the Army charges him for the loss of his gun.

:: Thank you for overalls… and Birkenstocks… thick cotton socks and deliciously warm wool sweaters. And a husband who thinks this is a good look. (Amen, sister — although for me it’s a wife. But then, I like the look on her too, so it’s all good.)

All for this week. Look for more good sentential stuff next week!

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Just one:

There is no poetry in my world tonight.

I don’t know this person. I have never seen her blog before. And yet, I weep.

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Wow, I’ve done quite a few of these Sentential Links posts now. They’re a lot of fun to create, and it’s a built-in excuse to look around corners of Blogistan I’m not usually frequenting. Anyway, here are this week’s bits of Sentential goodness:

:: Oh, the joys of sheep manure! (I just discovered this blog the other day, and it’s just great. How can you not love a blog with this tagline: A taste of country living without leaving home. Food writing & recipes, farm life tidbits, news from the organic heirloom garden & greenhouse, and step-by-step progress as I create a small artisan bread bakery–all from my 240-acre remote Missouri farm? I mean, what’s not to love in a blog like that?)

:: So, now I have to avoid looking at calendars, lest I find the one that turns out to be really The One and spend the next year disappointed with the one that I have. (Or, you can just do what I did last year: I bought two calendars. I use ’em more for the pictures than for the dates, anyway.)

:: To my mind, pastry chefs are only slightly less accomplished than particle physicists. (I must have food on the mind this week….)

:: My office bookshelf project is finished. (Ahhh, yes…which means that now that Jayme is done with his carpentry project, I can begin Phase One of my own project, which I have code-named “Operation Kill Guy And Steal His Home Office”. Heh! Kidding aside, that is one cool-looking home office. My own office/corner is back to looking like shit again, mainly because it’s where our two bicycles are taking up residence until we can have them carted off to their winter storage facility (my parents’ garage). It bugs me, though, that Jayme’s photos of his shelves don’t link to larger photos so I can peruse the titles on those very shelves! I’m a really nosy book person, and whenever I see a bookshelf in someone’s home, I gotta know what they’ve filled it with.)

:: Can I say how much I loathe Andrew Lloyd Weber’s music? He’s right up there with Tchaikowsky on my list of “composers whose music I never want to play again.” He has moments of sheer beauty, followed by minutes of absolute pabulum. Tchaikowsky is simply loud and repetitive. (This is an AOL Journal by a classical musician.)

:: To the 10% of messageboard populations that make them truly worthwhile (and you know who you are – simply because you to recognize the other 90%) – you deserve extreme admiration – but you will never receive it from anyone but the other 10% who recognize the shit around them. (Long, insightful post about Internet message boards, although I’d disagree with the interpretation of the phrase “I avoid threads in which you post”. The only board I frequent anymore with any regularity is the FSM board, and there I tend to come and go, depending on my mood. It’s a generally nice place, though. There’s another message board that I used to love dearly and that still shows flashes of what it was, but it has one member who takes a creepy amount of delight in being the “local meanie”, and for reasons passing understanding, most of the folks there find this character’s antics charming on some level. Avoiding someone for no other reason than that they are a jerk is perfectly reasonable, I think.)

:: He was gone, but now he is home.

And tomorrow I must buy him a new wallet. (This is what blogging is all about, folks.)

:: I was on a walk today with my first grader, James, when I discovered that he’d never heard of “cooties”.

That’s it for this week. More next week. Oh yes. There will be more.

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Here we go again, with the Delayed Edition.

:: “Thanks to hurricane Wilma, nothing has crapped on our Eyewitness News van for hours. Back to you, Bob.” (Yup, the guy who writes Dilbert has his own blog. He needs to link stuff, though.)

:: Bills fans know that during the Gregg Williams Era, offensive play calling had hit a low point. (Wow. I can only stomach bitching about the Bills once a week on my blog; here’s a person who’s doing it every day. But Gilbride was no patsy. That guy’s playcalling sucked, to the point where while he was here I started to understand why Buddy Ryan sucker-punched him on the sideline in the middle of a game once.)

:: I found the Holy Grail of Halloween candy, apparently. (And what that turns out to be is pretty gross, in my well-considered candy opinion. Brand new blog to me, btw.)

:: The time has come to imitate the crusaders in one regard: we have to start acting like pilgrim-tourists, wandering around and being amazed by the great sights and sounds of this astonishing city. (Fascinating travel blog.)

:: I used to be fairly certain that my lucky number was
7, 455, 820, 904, 935, 183, 271, 212, 791, 373, 340, 425, 311, 460, 379, 540, 855, 446, 291, 772, 158, 133, 611, 781, 626, but it turned out I was wrong. (Paul pointed this one out to me. Good blog on the general topic of skepticism.)

:: In a perfectly just world, von Braun would have been hung. In a perhaps more humanly just world, after being accidentally detained with the survivors of Peenemünde von Braun would have been a suicide victim, found after he had laboriously beaten himself to death. But von Braun gave us the worlds of the solar system, and so, for the most part, we praise him.

I should be back on schedule next week. Or maybe not. I’m a puzzle.

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Time again, friends, to take folks across Blogistan out of context!

:: I am the company Data Bitch. Hear me roar.

:: I sometimes feel that if the increasingly expansive view of copyright asserted today had been around a couple of centuries ago, the Supreme Court would have ruled that lending libraries were illegal.

:: The belief in this Inward Light also animates the well-known Quaker committment to peace and social justice, but that’s for another post, another day. (I think I should start studying Quakerism.)

:: I just want to know why the person in the linked article thinks fake boobs are just decorative. (I’m not sure how this blog showed up in my referrals, but I liked this post.)

:: One aspect of this series that I forgot to mention is that there are ten regular season wins that separate these teams.

:: I know so many kids who loved Holes by Louis Sachar but now dislike it (sorry Louis) because it has become the class novel unit. (Tell me about it. I had one teacher choke the life out of The Black Cauldron; another who eschewd Mark Twain in favor of Ordinary People, and so on. The most enjoyable English unit I remember from high school was when my junior-year teacher basically gave us all a big list of reading selections and told us to pick a number of items from the list to read, for report later. That was fun. This blog is brand-new to me, btw.)

:: This reminds me of a story about condoms from my Seattle days. (I like this blog a lot. It takes a pretty good writer to make a “One day in my life” kind of blog interesting.)

:: To make a replica of the world, you have to be able to see it. If you see it, you can model it. A novel is as much a replica of the world as a model railway. (OK, I’ve just now decided that I must have been grumpy when I read one of James MacDonald’s books — cowritten by Debra Doyle — and didn’t like it, because MacDonald’s posts at Making Light are always terrific. And make sure you click through on Jim’s post to see the pictures on the site that inspired him here. It’s amazing model work. And really, this kind of post is exactly why tabbed browsing is so damned cool. And note to self: re-read The Price of the Stars.)

:: If you’ve never heard of Juhl, don’t feel bad. (I have, but I hadn’t heard of Juhl’s passing. That’s very sad, and even sadder is that I didn’t know about it until randomly noodling through a blog’s archives. Another new blog to me, by the way — check out his Revenge of the Sith review, which marks him as a blogger of uncommon insight and intelligence.)

:: But if there’s a corrollary to one bad apple not spoiling the barrell, it isn’t one good one improves the whole lot to Grade A. (Yeah, the Lance Mannion installment for Sentential Link. Yeah, I always pick him. Get’cher own blog if it bothers you.)

:: When I got home I looked around and realized that, contrary to what a curmudgeonly visitor told me a few years ago, I DO have an aesthetic sense. It’s just … based on a strange principle. (My guiding principle for decorating is, “Can I put books on it?”)

Enough for this week!

(Fair warning for next week: Sentential Links may be delayed because of that thing where I dress the kid up in a costume and then go around the neighborhood demanding candy from total strangers, lest I pelt their homes with eggs or some such thing.)

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Once more unto the Sentence, dear friends!

:: It is my belief, that anything that happens in real life can be understood by either watching The Simpsons, or Star Trek (or both!). (This appears to be about the only thing on this blog that I can agree with, strangely enough. Hat tip to Lynn.)

:: White Christian males are neither oppressed nor a minority, so their whinging about being a minority oppressed by secularism or anything else is just so much poppycock. (Indeed.)

:: This is as close to doing porn as I’ll ever get: blowing on my big white cockatoo… See how he likes it? (I’m sorry, folks. Really.)

:: The most interesting thing in the final two Star Wars movies was the suggestion that when he didn’t have to drag Anakin around with him, Obi-wan was leading the life of a Jedi Philip Marlowe.

But that’s another post. (Ah, dammit!)

:: I have had only four real girlfriends, and been gone on dates with a grand total of eight women. (Wow. Compared to me, John’s a player. My numbers thereof are three, and five. Oh, and he’s been posting up a storm lately. Go check him out.)

:: Anyway, if you’ve been not reading Wheel of Time books of late (and who could blame you) go ahead and Read some chapter summaries and get cracking. This one was _good_… (Well, umm…)

:: Science is Made out of Metal (OK, that’s a post title, but it works because it’s a complete sentence. Anyway….)

:: But just Einstein? Nope. Don’t think so. You lost him a long, long time ago. He’s not yours anymore, especially not to deploy in the service of German self-esteem. (New blog to me. Liberal snark, but with a different voice.)

:: Another question I get is, “Fish can’t feel pain, right?” It’s usually phrased exactly that way, too—they aren’t looking for an accurate answer, they’re looking for a reassurance that casual brutality towards cold and slimy creatures is acceptable. The actual answer, though, is “Of course they can feel pain, you clueless boob! Mind if I put this barbed hook through your lip?” (Dammit. So much for having salmon tonight. I guess I’ll have a burger instead. Oh wait…dammit!)

OK, that’s all for this week. Tune in again next Monday. (Yes, I’ve officially moved Sentential Links to Mondays.)

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