Heaven and Hell (It's Been Pretty Nice Lately!)

After recently deciding to swear off of "Most Frequent Blogger Questions" (MFBQ, my Blogger advice blog), I find it a little like withdrawal from any other evil substance. I have not gone back to it any more than I have sneaked a cigarette in the last ten years, but it is hard to not feel an unconscious desire for it in any way. Like other addictions, it's one that won't hurt much of anyone but myself--but that's a serious matter, too! Hold on, Satan! You'll get me soon enough.

Sorry If I Tricked You

I am not sanguine that this will be noticed here, but some of you may only find out this way that I am no longer on Facebook. At least, I hope I'm not--since I deactivated it, I can't "look" and see about it!

Nothing Lasts Forever--Alas, Poor Pandora!

Pandora has announced the end of its free music listening. Now freeloaders like me are allowed to listen for 40 hours a month for free, but after that it'd cost 99 cents for the rest of the month. They have some other deal where I'd pay $36 for the year, but I am happy with my freeloader status. I doubt I'll ever pay them 99 cents. It was pleasant background music while I surfed other sites, but so is the radio or the CD player. If the limit was 40 hours a week instead of per month, I doubt I'd even be influenced to think about it. Supposedly, only ten per cent of the listeners were sailing along for free as I was doing, so I guess most people wanted More More More even if they had to pay more!

Got My Clothes On!

I don't care much about Facebook, don't believe that I ever will. I don't believe that others like it beyond the ego satisfaction of getting their names on other people's lists. Email is less trouble and more appealing unless you're Britney Spears and revel in appearing nude in public.

Aim Me

Another comment About Facebook
Aim me toward the edge of the shaky card table and let me go!

Wind Me Up

I tried Facebook starting a few days ago. I am already bored with it, though. It's like a wind-up toy that can't be wound.

The Empty Bird Feeder

I cannot remark upon my life these days Without condemning it— I know that; it can't be done. I have, for instance, an empty bird feeder on a pole nearby That I can see from this side of the storm door And black oil sunflower seeds stored carefully in the garage, But I only sometimes remember to see to it— I think I just get tired Of always feeding the bandit squirrels Along with the birds. Then, too, the big roll-up door is the only entry and It's so much heavier for me than it used to be. I make plans at times, Whether about the feeder or About sending mail or rearranging an overcrowded closet, But nothing usually happens except to change the plans. Is the insurance in force or not, I wonder? I do let it go sometimes, along with other things. Will the air-conditioner fail one day for real And force us out of the house And into other dreaded rooms? Possibly I've been reading too much Robert Frost. Everyone needs something, including A certain amount of air to breathe and so forth. I am used to living in effect alone, Whether it is good for me or not. Most people need more air-conditioning And more air than I do these days, Though I still need space. I spent all last winter with frozen hands— The doorknobs were like ice!— It was horrific, But I still must live in the world, Come what may, until the plans change.

Grave Mullahs and Great Grand Poobahs

If all the greats of Iran woke up dead tomorrow morning, the survivors still wouldn't blame a just God, they'd blame the CIA. I don't know if that's because they don't believe deeply enough in Allah or because they believe too much in the secret powers of the United States! The funniest part of it to me is that they would not even see the humor in it. God has truly abandoned them! [If the same thing happened to America's leaders, neither Muslims nor God would get the credit--we'd blame the FDA, whether it was their fault or not!]

Like Stoned, Man!

Somebody sing some Janis Joplin song for me now, It won't take long, And we can spend all night getting laid on some odd premise Of getting High or getting Low, whichever pretence you prefer.

Overheard in a Cowboy Bar

Another One Bites The Dust
Things were quiet. There was only one customer in the bar so early in the afternoon--he already looked a little hungover. "Did you hear the news that Michael Jackson died?" the bartender asked. "What took him so long?" replied the customer. The bartender shrugged. Just then the door opened and another customer came in with a brief blast of sunlight and warmth.