- It seems a Temple University professor is having a seminar at Dartmouth entitled: "What's Up With White People?" From what I gather, the sociologist will explain the various groups and motivations of the Caucasians, and for those confused in their whiteness, help them understand into which modality they fit. I wonder if the circus blogger has bought his ticket.
- Here they are:
Martin know what up.
Yeah, don't forget Bobby.
- When I was in college, Mr. Mull - or Doc Martin, as we called him - published a series of research papers entitled: The History of White People in America, and A Paler Shade of White. Both treatises were considered groundbreaking, inasmuch as prior to that time, we white folks had led pretty much humdrum existences, driving our Buicks, wearing Sans-a-Belt slacks, eating Wonder Bread sammiches with Miracle Whip (prepared by our wimmin, of course), and singing from the Presbyterian Hymnal.
Martin Mull gave us cultural identity.
- No longer did the melanin challenged among us have to mope and hang our heads in shame as new, exotic cultures were treated as cause célèbres simply because of the presumptive hegemony of the Caucasian race. Thanks to Martin, we once again had purpose - and history - filled lives.
- Now that Charlie Manson has died, you know there's gotta be a ton of lawyers in Hades petitioning ol' Lucifer that the neighborhood is going down the drain. I'm guessing their briefs argue something along the lines of: "Yeah, we know it's supposed to be bad here, but having Manson for a neighbor is cruel and unusual." Heck, having Charlie as a house-guest, el Diablo himself might convert.
- Of course, Hell's hoi polloi probably feel the same about all the lawyers down there. I think I read somewhere that the incidence of barristers in Beelzebub's domain was beyond insane. But I could be wrong.
- Sometimes at work, the TV in the break room is airing The Rifleman, one of my all-time favorite shows. During the last week or so, I noticed a couple of episodes, featuring Sammy Davis Jr., and a very young Dennis Hopper.
New Sheriff in town?
- Before he turns the lights out at night, Chuck Norris checks for Chuck Connors under the bed.
- While I am generally pleased to see some introspection regarding our cultural mores, as manifested in the Weinstein case, et al, I can see some of this getting silly. The same entertainment outlets breathlessly reporting each new allegation against some Hollyweird pervert were just weeks ago celebrating the legacy of Hugh Hefner. Inconsistency much?
- I thought the situation with the comedian Louis C.K. was a bit odd. I'm neither a fan nor detractor. I have seen some of his routines and found them amusing. I thought it refreshing that he didn't waste any time in owning up to his misbehavior/mzbehaviour. Alleged to have, uh, given private solo performances with as many as a half-dozen [individual] women, it did kinda make me wonder, how exactly would you make that segue? Say, did I ever show you my vacation slides, or my...? I know this might sound awkward, but would you like to see me...? Weird.
- Weird, as in Weird Al? Some, even in his own party, are demanding that Sen.
Stuart SmalleyAl Franken resign, after evidence surfaced that he had groped a actress/model/Playboy chick while on a USO tour a few years prior to his election. I'm no fan of the senator - can't stand him. Every time I see him on the dais in a Senate hearing, I see Stuart Smalley. But, if that's who Minnesotans want representing them, well, whatever. Franken's boorish and highly inappropriate behavior occurred (as far as we know) before his Senate election. He is not accused of rape, just groping and unwanted French kissing. I subscribe to 'no means no', and I don't believe that the woman in question should've be subjected to his actions (even if she was willing to strip for the magazine) without her consent. She had/has every right to slap the snot out of him or kick him in the 'nads for his transgressions. But, I don't think it's something he is required to resign over (I would take glee in seeing him defeated in the polls, however).
- This is way premature. I haven't even formed an exploratory committee, nor given thought to running for public office (I don't think the next dog catcher term expires for another three years). Nonetheless, I want to fully disclose that, in 1977, with a home-recorded cassette of Hotel California playing on the stereo of my large American sedan, at the Century 4 Drive-In Theater, I accidentally-on-purpose elbow grazed the pink-sweatered bewb¹ of a young lady before the main feature. I fully realize that my actions were wrong, and submit for your consideration that I did not, in baseball terms, score so much as a base hit.
- I feel so liberated now.
- Saturday morning before leaving the house, I had a couple slices of toast. After downing the second, I realized a molar crown was missing, much to my dismay. 30 hours later, said porcelain enameled platinum crown was, alas, recovered. #Worst. Scavenger Hunt. Ever.