A weekly series entitled: today is thursday

Today is Thursday. It isn't better, or worse, than any of the other days. There was a real force behind the "Thursday is the new Friday" movement. But in the end, we all knew, Thursday is Thursday and Friday is Friday. Just as Saturday is Saturday and not Sunday. And less is not more. Less is less. If less was more, can you imagine the chaos in our school system? Less is not more any more than more is less. In the same way losers think winning isn't the point. Because if it wasn't the point, losing would to the point, and losing would be winning and still winning would be the point. The point is to win. And to have more when more is more and less is less. And this has been brought to you by the proud weekly makers of the day, Thursday.

My inevitable crushing by powerful ocean waves

I tried today to sign up for a writing class at the local college here. Goal being to give myself some direction in my writing, and eventually get published. After I hit next half a dozen times filling out the online form, and answered such a broad range of questions as when I became a California citizen (um, 1979? – I don't remember I was a fetus and connected by an umbilical cord), the color of my skin (a golden tan thank you), my personal views on the designated hitter rule in major league baseball (it's a shitty rule) – I discovered going to school, getting your degree, it isn't about academics at all. It's a Survivor style test of who can persevere the forms and applications, the paper and the mouse strokes. After a good hour, I'm not even clear how I enroll in this one class. I, unlike others, don't encourage younger generations to go to college. So you can become more qualified, smarter, and more efficient at the job that I do? So that in a few years I will need to again take classes at the local college to remain relevant? No thank you. Which got me thinking about how completely against the grain almost everything I think is. Firstly, I think it's alright to end a sentence in is. I don't think women have any place in sports. Sweating and grunting and falling all over yourself isn't cute. Mia Hamm didn't make it ok for you. Global warming isn't the end of the world. Ok, so it is. But I'll get to wear a mini skirt in February and for a brief while before my inevitable crushing by powerful ocean waves, it will bring the beach closer to my modest little apartment in the valley. Where I am sure I will simultaneously be filling out yet another form.

oh COME on!

I read what under normal conditions, on any normal day, by someone who was normal – to be tragic. A one eyed gator, in Venice Florida, pulling a golfer in a pond while he was trying to retrieve his ball. No one was seriously hurt, including the handicapped gator and twice now handicapped golfer (get it, golf, handicapped?). Christ, I thought it was funny, get off my back.
The golfer's name? Bruce Burger.
I'm no advocate of gators attacking humans, but being one eyed, with a name like Burger, creeping on his pond, all I'm saying is I can see the confusion. He probably seemed just too delicious to resist. That's like naming someone Sally Sirloin - or Dan Dodgerdog, as is my case. It was a tragedy just waiting to happen.
Today all I ask is that you view life through the lens of a one eyed gator. When naming children, avoid those names that sound appetizing to an awaiting alligator.
Bruce Burger, oh COME on!