Wine in the morning
Breakfast at night..
I’m beginning to see the light..
RIP, Lou Reed. Thanks for the inspiration.
So, I’m going to continue with this Five Things idea for a bit to see where it takes me.
1) I got this little gem via a journo listserv I’m a member of.
I’ll keep the next few sentences simple since I’m sure you’re also in a state of shock due to what you just read. We want four AP style stories a day with a word count hovering around 400 per story. Great communication skills are a must. Please send your resume and 4 clips to email@example.com.
After I fashioned a bag of ice over my sore noggin (it’s sore from banging it against the wall after reading the listserv email), I tried to imagine the level of the mind that believes it’s okay to pay a writer a measly $7/post. Why the hell not? Them’s just words! Anyone can do it! You know, that makes total sense so sign me up!
I’d rather eat ground glass.
Plus, ain’t it kinda a cool that dong size has little to do with potency? See, that’s how it’s done denizens of certain South American and African countries. Not only are the Indians and Chinese kicking our asses in so many other ways, their wee schvantzes are helping to produce shitloads of humans to ensure that they’ll be kicking our asses for generations to come. In other words, size ain’t an issue … in some instances.
3) This is real. Not kidding.
It’s the latest Boeing 777 in Eva Air’s fleet of flying machines. Eva Air, by the way, is the Taiwanese airline. You can get in touch with your inner-confused hipster who sports ironic tats, facial hair, piercings and fedoras, by taking one of the three flights between Taipei and Los Angeles each week. Then, you can Instagram it, put pix of you acting all goofy inside the plane on one of your many Tumblrs, then get a tat of the plane on your lower back.
4) Now, this tat was on a “20 Tattoos That You Should Get Removed” page. I’m confused though–I don’t see what the problem is.
5) Aaaaaaaaaaaand I’ll just leave this here. Enjoy!
I thought I’d put my Feedly reader to good use and point out some of the more outrageous/interesting/heinous/gnarly/silly, etc. stories cruising around out there.
1) Apparently, Stand Your Ground REALLY only applies to white folks when they shoot black and brown folks, not the other way around. How dare you think that the law is applied evenly and fairly? You think it is? Then, it’s time to take off your fucking rose-colored specs because they’re blinders smeared with shit. Seriously. Don’t believe me? Check this out.
H/t to politicalblindspot.com
Funny thing about laws, they gotta apply to everyone. Oh wait, this is Florida so there’s the rub. While I am not a fan of online petitions, this one might be worth signing.
2) It’s deja-vu–1991 style–all over again.
Gennifer Flowers is back in the news. She’s now yammering about how that if it weren’t for Chelsea, she and Bill would be all married up n’ shit by now. Oh, and Hillary’s a bi-seck-shul, by the way according to Gennifer via Bill. AND, Hill’s eaten more pussy than Bill. Just sit with that one for a minute. Let it absorb in your being and ooze in and out of your ….
I know what you’re trying to do now–you’re trying to get that image of Hillary muff diving out of your mental Rolodex. You know what? IT CANNOT BE DONE. I’m sure some of my Sapphic Sisters can relate though.
You get what’s going on here, yes? Well, Hillary will probably run for POTUS in 2016, so the Right Wing is starting early with the rumor mill. HOWEVER, what they probably don’t realize is that by saying that Hillary swings both ways, she’s collected all of the gay money and has shored up the gay vote. Gays have lots of cash and lots to say, and unfortunately for our brothers and sisters on the right, lots and lots of influence. Nice try, RWNJ, better put a call into Monica to see what she’s been up to lately, you know, as a ‘just in case.’ If Monica is busy, there’s always her.
3) Good luck, Felony. You’re gonna need it.
4) Bring up your dead. I know you saw what I did there.
This case is still very much alive in Boulder these days.
Here’s what I’m talking about. Apparently, some folks just can’t let dead baby beauty queens stay dead. This was a horrible case–not just the actual crime, but how it was handled and screwed up by the Boulder Police Department and the Boulder DA.
But, what’s extremely important here is the indictment against the Ramseys was never made available to the public. It was presented to a grand jury, they voted to prosecute the Ramseys for the murder of their daughter, JonBenet, but the prosecutor never signed it. Why? This is what Charlie Brennan, a reporter for the Daily Camera and the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press would like to know. Simply put, in a so-called free society, there has to be transparency. As journalists, this is our main job–to be watchdogs for and of society. We uncover the corruption, the crap–the bad behavior if you will–that so many of our esteemed elected officials would rather you not know about. I know I’ll be following this story because I don’t think it’s over yet. Stay tuned.
5) Finally, a song for today. Tis a grand one too. Enjoy.
One of the hidden joys of being unemployed is the amount of craptastic tee vee watching I get in on a daily basis. I’m not just talking about the political shows, but shows from the days of yore like “Bewitched”, “Murder She Wrote” and my personal fave “Emergency!”
When my sisters and I weren’t putting on our version of “Godspell” for our patient parents and our slew of household pets, we watched shows like “Emergency!” Hey, what can I say? We were kids growing up in the ‘burbs of Chicago, and there wasn’t a lot to do at night except chase fireflies and spy on the neighbors. Even after a while, the spying became tiresome. I mean, how many times can one watch the neighbor across the street get drunk and pass out on the steps?
“Emergency!” was special because it introduced me to my first tee vee boyfriend, Randolph Mantooth. He was tall, dark and handsome. And for some reason, he never combed his hair and that made him all the more foxy.
Also, the show introduced me to that dynamic duo of Bobby Troup and his wife, Julie London. You may know him better as the guy who wrote the classic song “Route 66”, and she was a fine lady crooner in her day.
Then, there was Kevin Tighe (Roy DeSoto) who went onto portray, according to Weebs, “some of the meanest, mother fuckers ever.”
Of course, the supporting cast was just as memorable as the stars. And, they sported the best sideburns and porn star staches ever.
“An English Visitor”: Season 3, Ep. 04, (1973) A paramedic from England has a stint with Station 51 observing Roy and John, whose rescues include: a structure fire; a gunslinger’s partner; a car accident; and a man trapped in heavy machinery, where the visitor saves John’s life. At the hospital, Dr. Brackett treats a rock singer in a diabetic coma and Dr. Early has problems with a defiant nurse. (courtesy imdb.com)
Above is the official version, but the following is what I saw.
The episode starts out with the station treating some burned-up cop in an elevator shaft of an old building, which anyone with a trained eye can tell is a building on the backlot at Universal Studios. Guess someone started a fire via Molotov Cocktail which is causing all sorts of drama. God damn militants! Stay tuned…
So, there’s a fella from the other side of the pond visiting Station 51. He’s sportin’ a big-sexy, 70s style ‘stache. Who knows what he’s up to, guv’nuh. Jason (his name), the Brit, is only staying with Station 51 for a few days, then he’s off to Miami to check out another program and hopefully chillax with some ex-pat Cubans. I’m not sure about the ex-pat Cubans part, I just made that up since this particular scene was cut with an axe–it’s that bad.
Meanwhile, a lovely lady who appears to be some sort of rock star, is passed out in the ER. Dixie thinks she’ remembers her, and is certain she has seen her somewhere before. Cue ominous music…
Gage and DeSoto then go out on yet another call to some sort of Wild West Show gunslingin’ has-been, Homer, who has retired in the north Valley (why there is anyone’s guess). Homer’s wife, Martha, has some sort of cut and is quite scared. He was the best, Martha opined whilst DeSoto worked on her. Then, Homer fired his wee gun at an ugly flower-pot in the beige living room, and the boys skidaddled outta there before they too were covered in beige plaid and bullet fragments. Good riddance, was my reaction.
Back at the hospital, there is dissention in the ranks as Dixie dresses down a nurse who has been defiant with Doc Early. See, there have been complaints against this one particular nurse and she has to realize that she works for Dixie now and that’s that. No if, ands or buts about it! You see, folks, Dixie, is the only one who gets to have ‘tude around Rampart and don’t YOU forget it.
Patsy, the comatose rock star, has diabeetus, the flu and is exhausted and Doc Brackett AND his sideburns are seeing to it that she gets the proper care. So, he’s never going to leave her side which should be, well, interesting …
Now, a dude with something that resembles a JewFro is wondering why his client –Patsy– is still so sick. He thinks it was the militants, Brackett thinks that maybe she was doing some illegal pharma ingesting and maybe took too much brown acid, or it could the myriad of health problems mentioned above. Who knows, but we’ll find out in the 3rd act. I just want Brackett and this guy to get into a whole “My hair is foxier than your hair” type duel.
Update on the policemen.. Doc Early and Dix are discussing him, now Dixie is whining about the nurse with the ‘issues’, but I really wish they’d break into a version of “route 66″–that would make the scene so much more enjoyable.
If the catheter passed through the tourniquet, it could float in his lungs..” something no one wants to hear EVER. So it’s off to the cath lab to retrieve that sucker. Side note here: you know a scene is uber-dramatical when you hear the swelling of the strings section over the rest of the orchestra.
Oh no, Patsy is circling the drain, but dammit! Doc Brackett is gonna do everything in his power to save her! He said something like “I WANT YOU TO LIVE! I WANT YOU TO LIVE!” while holding her face and probably dislocating her jaw.
Back to the wayward nurse, Sheila. She blames herself for the tourniquet oops and now Dixie is trying to calm her–not through song, but through reason and a comforting tone. So hot–I hope they go at it later.
Uh oh, Jason is hitting on the nurses which ain’t cool since that’s Gage’s MO. See, Johnny Gage is hot–everyone thinks so, and the running joke of the show is how many nurses he can bang. However, since this show was on in the 70s, ‘bang’ was not a euphemism used to describe ‘screwing,’ and come to think of it, ‘screwing’ wasn’t used on the tee vee then either. Hmm. I’m perplexed — I don’t know what term they used.
Next rescue: A major truck accident on the WB backlot–er, I mean in the “North Valley”. The boys had to use some version of the jaws of life to pry the demin-clad Waylon Jennings lookalike from his rig. They had to be careful considering he was wearing some rather rad bell bottoms, and no one in their right mind would want to harm that fashion goodness. Poor dude has a busted ankle and Johnny ain’t feeling too great.
You know why?
Because the truck is loaded with HOOCH! MOTHER NATURE’S HAIR! MARY JANE! POT! All of the fireman instantly ran to the truck to “help” while Vince the ever-present LAPD motorcycle cop looked on with a creepy smile on his face. Yeaaah…it was alll so….niiice…
I bet those folks never figured that the pot would be legal today in California. My oh my have the times changed.
Back to the rock star– Doc Brackett thinks she’s burned out with being all sick and shit. She’s not responding to treatment, and “she may die.” Dumbass Manager JewFro doesn’t quite get it because “you gotta hit it while it’s hot.” Just as Doc Brackett is finishing up his lecture, Patsy crashes! It doesn’t look good folks, but they made sure they covered up her lady bits before saving her life, and kept them covered.
“If we don’t kill this infection, this infection may kill her!”
The finale emergency involves a mishap at a gravel pit. Wait..did LA ever have gravel pits? Really?
So, Jason gets to join Gage and DeSoto on this particular rescue, much to Gage’s chagrin. Hmm..I think something nefarious is about to happen to our guest. Back to the initial rescue, turns out this dumbass guy is trapped in a rock grinder. I mean really, so much for being careful. And just as the rescue was happening, Gage goes and slips and Jason saves his sweet ass from plummeting to his death, and Gage ends up getting a nice wedgie in the process.
“Pull man, PULL!”
Meanwhile that other guy’s legs are dead I bet.
No, no–of course they aren’t! This isn’t “ER”! He ends up getting rescued–of course–and his tuchas is shipped to Rampart for further treatment probably by .
And speaking of Rampart, Patsy is out of the woods, for now. Dixie has re-applied her nude lipstick, and Doc Brackett’s sideburns are still all kinds of awesome. Jason cock-blocked Gage from getting that hot nurse up in orthopaedics AND we learned that our English visitor is a real, live genuine hero. Tally ho, pip pip and all that then, guv’nuh.
I think I’m in love all over again.