Homo homini rodentius est

Born Too Late…

August 30, 1968. The Beatles release Hey Jude. Paul wrote it to comfort Julian Lennon (“hey Jules”) following the divorce of his parents and the onslaught of Yoko. Typically, John saw it as a veiled bill of divorcement between him and Paul.

From the Time magazine issue of [the same day], an article entitled “Pot and Parents” containing this diamond:

“I’d kill the sonofabitch if I ever found out he was smoking pot,” says a Manhattan father. Says his 16-year-old son, who has been using marijuana for a year: “I smoke pot because it makes the world a beautiful place instead of a place filled with narrow-minded bigots like my father.”

I was born just too damned late.

Microsoft Delivers News Network

Microsoft has delivered, on schedule no less, a new national [online network] for local news organizations to share and monetize locally-produced video. This is important. Local news organizations — real ones, not just the permed and puckered hacks in local “Eyewitness” TV package shows — now get to deliver quality video content directly to users and licensees on a global scale. A boost for local news, a black eye for Google’s video efforts and the timing may explain why Microsoft is suddenly aiming the [copyright gun] at the folks in Mountain View. The deal, which leverages MS back end tech and their MSN advertising platform, is a good example of how you partner with copyright owners to build a content network.

Ann Coulter Strikes Again – Who’s Shameless?

Enough with the cutesy posts about saints who visit my AdSense list. Nasty reality intruded this week with the latest dust-up over Ann Coulter. As you surely know by now, she addressed the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) and referred to John Edwards as a faggot. At least that’s how it’s being parlayed in the media — as a homophobic taunt. That’s not exactly what happened. She was making a flat-footed reference to the public lambasting of Isaiah Washington for using the word “faggot” to describe one of his co-stars on Grey’s Anatomy, indirectly commenting on political correctness and also trying to say something snarky about Edward’s wishy-washy policies. If anything it showed her utter tone-deaf approach to comedy and, perhaps sensing this, she was careful in Q&A to say that neither she nor Republicans were anti-gay. On the contrary, gays should support Republicans because they are for tax cuts and law enforcement and, “gays make a lot of money and are victims of crimes.” Like I said, tone-deaf.

You should see the [entire performance] before you read anything else anyone says about it.

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Holy Pagerank! From My Lips to God’s Ear…

I signed up for Google AdSense over the weekend, not because I expect to get rich from it, but more because I was curious to see how the all-powerful algorithm that determines so much of what we see on the Net would categorize my humble site and its motley collection of content. Well now I know. Amid a number of ads for pest control (ahem…) today they served up an ad on my site for a [Polish convent] devoted to the life work of a nun named Saint Faustina (pictured here in a rare moment of hilarity). The good sisters’ wimples would likely fall off if they saw some of the things I write about and, at first, I saw this as a random hiccup on the part of the Googlebot — equivalent to Hal singing “Daisy, Daisy” in the movie 2001 once his wits start to go. But, upon further investigation, it may show even more profound and scary Intelligence. From a site describing Faustina’s life:

Convinced of her own unworthiness, and terrified at the thought of trying to write anything, she nonetheless began keeping a diary in 1934 in obedience to the express wishes of her spiritual director, and then of Our Lord Himself. For four years she recorded divine revelations and mystical experiences, together with her own inmost thoughts, insights, and prayers. The result is a book of some 600 printed pages that, in simple language, repeats and clarifies the gospel story of God’s love for His people, emphasizing, above all, the need to trust in His loving action in all the aspects of our lives. It also reveals an extraordinary example of how to respond to God’s mercy and manifest it to others.

So you see, Faustina is the patron saint of blogging. And the coincidences don’t stop there. She was called to blogging by Divine mandate — just like me! She felt she had nothing to say but wrote anyway — just like me! She manifested extraordinary mercy to others — just like me! Well, kinda’. For her dedication to the craft and boundless faith God rewarded her by giving her tuberculosis and taking her home to heaven in short order. But from beyond the grave she reaches out still, even unto the sidebar of my humble blog. Amen.

February 12, 2044

Well at least now I have a deadline to work with. According to the all-knowing [Deathclock], my tail will curl up for the last time on February 12, 2044. A Friday no less (great way to wrap up the work week).

When I was a kid I was a little obsessed with a Moody Blues song called 22,000 Days — a dour little ditty about the number of days in the average life. Theme music for a morose teen who saw every pimple as a tumor and would take his pulse before going out for a night on the town with friends just make sure he wasn’t on the verge of “The Big One”. Turns out I have 13,507 of those days left — more than enough time to have the life I’ve always wanted. Once I decide what that would be.

Before I saw this, I chose today to finally go to the drugstore and buy Nicoderm patches so I can quit cigs. Ironic.

UPDATE 2/20: Never mind. I [won’t live] to see 2044 anyway. Unfortunately, neither will you. Now where did I put those damned cigarettes…?

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