We were duped into that whole gift card thing for a year or two there - both in giving them and in receiving them, and regretted it.

This year, I got all the kids - cousins included - a nice box of thank you cards, some adorable address stickers and some postage stamps.

They can like 'em or not like 'em. That's what I think they need, and to hell with what they want.

Bah Humbug. But Peace on Earth and Goodwill to All.

I'm surprised that the author didn't at least mention the crazy-elaborate Romany (Gypsy to you un-PC'ers) pollution code of wuzho and marime. It's beyond complicated and restrictive. Google it if you'd like to know more.

I'll just close with a poem I like, which seems apropos:

The Shipfitter's Wife

I loved him most

when he came home from work,

his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,

his denim shirt ringed with sweat

and smelling of salt, the drying weeds

of the ocean. I would go to him where he sat

on the edge of the bed, his forehead

anointed with grease, his cracked hands

jammed between his thighs, and unlace

the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles,

his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.

Then I'd open his clothes and take

the whole day inside me-the ship's

gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,

the voice of the first man clanging

off the hull's silver ribs, spark of lead

kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,

the white fire of the torch, the whistle

and the long drive home.

-Dorianne Laux

I have all the liberal DNA and bloodlines and social action cred I need, but I'm done with this whole "Well, it's their religion" stance that excuses genital mutilation, stoning of women, burning women in "honor" killings, wildly oppressive shari'a, fake "revelations" from some Nauvoo con man (the Book of Mormon isn't just bad writing, it's execrable writing borne of execrable thinking), Mormon undergarments, planetary ownership, posthumous conversion, cursed Lamanites, the whole ball of wax.

I don't buy that whole virgin birth and trinity thing, either, so I'm an equal opportunity agnostic.

I will damn well not vote for some nitwit who accepts the Mormon "faith" because I view it as incredibly flawed judgment - oh, and his politics stink, too. I didn't vote for Dubya for the very same reasons.

So I'm "predudiced."

So sue me.

pfft.

Can't you guys figure that out? Between the vapidly throwback "broadsheet" (and, no: the pink isn't ironic but rather an insulting), the execrable "cover story" personal essays, and this column, what you're seeing is pandering to the page hit gods. Pure & simple.

Seriously. What reasonable, moral, ethical person cares about not just the latest NFL thug but the NFL itself anymore?

Live by the thugs, die by the thugs. And good riddance, too.

The insane amounts of money - TV money, thug salaries, endorsement money, college bowl money - have ruined sport.

I honestly can't see how anyone could make the case that it hasn't. Even all this navel-gazing about Michael Vick playing again proves it.

How any "fan" could fool him/herself that s/he is watching "sport" these days is beyond me. They're 'bots and thugs, with very few exceptions.

Blech.

You forgot Deborah Dickerson writing on how Obama isn't black enough.

Where's that rolling-eyes emoticon when you need it??????

The poster who stated that abused women are catnip for manipulitive men is correct, but I don't think my guy falls in that category.(And he didn't seek me out; we became re-acquainted a bit by accident.) It's just that he seems to have a need to confess a lot of stuff, that I'm not sure is relevant to what's happening now. It does scare me, but I know that fear can be a protective thing.

Proceeding with caution, requesting backup, and staging until the scene is secure. (Or at least as secure as I can get it...)

It's car wreck, and we're the gapers' block. Only I can't look anymore.

This is really, really tragic.

The Fall 2007 issue of FFC's literary mag, All Story, was dedicated to Youth w/o Youth, to an excessive degree, I thought. Mircea Eliade's novella appeared in its entirety. I slogged through the whole thing and was left completely confused and underwhelmed - I'm no Cynthia Ozick or Michael Korda, but I've been around the block a time or two in reading short fiction, and I couldn't for the life of me see what FFC saw in this muddled work. I actually was embarrassed that maybe I'm, somehow, just not "worthy" in the way FFC seems to be (he's a bit of an icon, no?). So I'm relieved to have my impressions (of the novella, anyway) validated here in this review. Thanks for that.

If anyone is interested in reading the novella or taking a peek and the numerous self-important interviews and essays on the making of this movie, just go to FFC's All Story web site. Back issues are available there. (I have no affiliation with All STory other than being a subscriber. I'm just offering this info up as a PSA.)

Having no internal or external editor is never a good thing. As we have observed.

You can listen at npr.org as you well know.

Every year the stack of catalogs grows. It's ridiculous! Thank you for putting in one place every "click" I need to know about to reduce this embarrassing waste.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart! My mail carrier thanks you, too!

Sorry. Just a small eruption of the id there. Maybe I should blame it on the absinthe. ;)

Every recipe in my recipe box that calls for any sort of onion, calls for "Onion, chopped by A MAN."

Works for me!