Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Russian Through the Water
At my health club this afternoon, doing lap pool lengths with a kick board; guy in the lane next to me is swimming freestyle laps. Two large Russian woman ambled into the water like Slavic hippos and blocked both lanes. There was a brief game of aquatic chicken in which the freestyle guy, myself, and the Daughters of Muscovy all advanced on a collision course. But the women moved at the last second and I continued my workout, though wary now. Clearly the idea of a lap pool as a place of exercise, as opposed to drowning dissidents, seemed to have escaped them. They eventually went over to the hot tub and bobbed in front of other people's air jets.
Big fat commies.
Big fat commies.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Happy Valentine's Day
At the grocery store yesterday there was a card rack near the check-out counter. Most of the cards were addressed to "My Darling Wife," somehow implying that men are more likely to make such purchases at the last moment.
I bought a card for my wife.
Then I sued the store for gender discrimination and creating an uncomfortable atmosphere through implications of tardiness.
Legally, I will break the store like a pot, tear down the building and sell the land to a government agency that wants to reintroduce grizzly bears to Southern California.
(There's millions for that in the stimulus package.)
Plus, next month is St. Patrick's Day.
Then Easter.
Then Flag Day . . . .
I bought a card for my wife.
Then I sued the store for gender discrimination and creating an uncomfortable atmosphere through implications of tardiness.
Legally, I will break the store like a pot, tear down the building and sell the land to a government agency that wants to reintroduce grizzly bears to Southern California.
(There's millions for that in the stimulus package.)
Plus, next month is St. Patrick's Day.
Then Easter.
Then Flag Day . . . .
Friday, February 13, 2009
Keeper of the Ragtime
Who among the next generation will play the "Maple Leaf Rag?" Ragtime composer and aficionado Keeper mentions an upcoming documentary that poses a similar, if larger, question on the future of this most American music. It is beyond me to perpetuate ragtime. (I can't even remember to save the coupons from Dominos.) But I encourage others and hope they succeed. And while they're at it, bring back the straw boater.
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