Someone in this room¹ is a sick bastard. Twice now my site has been visited by a googler trying to get in past the bouncer with "sex Burton Cummings" on his or her mind. Let me tell you this, googler person²: there is no sex with Burton Cummings available on my site. No live feed, no bootleg mpeg, no transcript or artist's approximation. Not even the appetizing suggestion that he'll be singing "No Time" or "Clap for the Wolfman" or maybe even his pretentious anti-abortion straight-from-the-can tune "Take One Away" in your ear the whole time. No, you'll have to go elsewhere for your Cummings-style sex, you googlefreak, crawling over the web with your long fingers in search of beer bellies, fluffy mullets and tone deaf Lotharios. I bet it's Burton Cummings himself, searching for someone on the web who sees fit to throw the word sex at his name. Which in this case would be me.

Head, heart, hands, health, two-fisted fury.

PHOTOGRAPHY, ATROCITY, PALINODE

The computer at the library called to tell me than "an item" is on hold and waiting for me. This item is either The Amulet of Odin, which will render me invincible if I'm worthy (and simply render me if I'm not), or it's Susan Sontag's Regarding the Pain of Others, her newest exploration of the horrible things we do to one another and the snapshots we take of them. Yay for serious thinkers who haven't withered away into solipsism or tyrannitropically leaned towards right-wing politics. On my last library visit, though, I couldn't help but notice the racks of CDs and cassettes on the second floor. Are the record companies aware that libraries are sharing copywrited music for free? All you have to do is acquire, at no charge, a "card" that allows you to "borrow" music, take it home and stick it in your filthy stereos. Sooner or later the recording industry is going to come down on these "libraries" as the music pushers they are.

I've coined a new word: tyrannotropic, used to describe those pundits and thinkers and Dennis Millers who are hopelessly attracted to power and will say absolutely anything to convince people that the order of the universe has telescoped down to fit into George W. Bush. I figure it's a more diplomatic adjective than 'cocksucking'.

¹By which I mean the internet. But it's likely that someone in this room really is a sick bastard.

²as usual I mistyped 'person' as 'peron', and now I've got this imaginary character in my head named Googler Perón, a suave but mute fellow dressed in tux & tails who follows me around and passes me crumpled notes with the words Sex Burton Cummings? scrawled in a childlike hand.

parode - exode