Superchunk’s Here’s Where The Strings Come In, really a CD I am constantly underrating in my own mind. I kinda think Superchunk are a national treasure, doomed to be properly appreciated only after they’re gone.

Memo to the driver of the SUV I saw trying to get back on the highway and right-facing in the middle of this morning’s snow-addled rush hour:

Please don’t consider your meeting the ditch this morning as proof of your need for a huge vehicle, as in ‘Yep, I’da had to wait to get towed if I didn’t have my Slothmobile 2000…’.

Consider that, because of the false sense of invincibility you purchased along with your environment-altering penis substitute, you were driving too fast for conditions and paid the wages for that particular sin.

Thank you for your attention.

Oh, and you guys realize I in no way voted Republican, don’t you?

Someone (can’t remember who) quoted in Sleeping Where I Fall (Thanks, Mark):

“If you think about hitting the brakes, it’s too late.”

Yahoo! News – Bush Makes State of Union Address
Bush did not mention Enron, but asked Congress to enact pension reform and require more financial disclosure from companies. “Corporate America must be made more accountable to employees and shareholders and held to the highest standards of conduct,” Bush said.

Good, ’cause that’s why I voted Republican – I want less government.

What a maroon.

Details, huh? Well, other than the fact I’ve already mentioned (that my friends rock),
there’s not much to report. I didn’t wake up and suddenly feel 35 or anything. My body didn’t react in any other way than continuing its slow decline, and I
didn’t suddenly possess new pearls of wisdom. I did receive notes and/or gifts from (and this is not a complete list, so I’m sorry if I forget you)
Mark (thanks for the book, etc. – I’m enjoying the first tape quite a bit…), Greg,
my dad, Martha, Yasuko, Mary, Timo,
Miriam, Erik, Michelle, sculptor John, philosopher John, Dane,
Rodney, Grrtch and Lynn, and, I’m sure, some others I cannot remember right now….

‘But, surely, you must have done something special for your birthday!’ you say, and I reply ‘Nope, not really, and don’t call me Shirley.’

I worked (kind of a present in itself, given the periods of unemployment I’ve enjoyed lately), Lynn made pasta with 4 cheeses, which I ate and then went to bed. Maybe next year, when my birthday
should fall on a Friday, I’ll do something exciting…

Cool. Clash guitar smash photo the perfect icon shot.
(via metafilter)

Man, my friends are the greatest!

Thanks, Mary:

“Happy birthday to you,
You live in a zoo,
You look like a monkey,
And you smell like one too.

There! Now you should feel about 9 years old again!”

My birthday. Woo-hoo! How old am I? Still not entitled to any discounts, goddamnit, but nearly as old as dirt.