This girl I used to work with once told me that when William F. Buckley was young, he was a total babe. She was a rocker chick; leathery longhairs were more her type than tweedy iron jawed intellectuals.

So, something like four years after the fact, I finally got around to plugging him into a google image search.

This is the most attractive shot of him I could find: http://www.stripes.com/photoday/071703.jpg

Not all that hot. Of course, I'm not an expert on guy hotness. (Just to keep up on this whole stram of consciousness vibe. A couple of weeks ago a gay friend of mine got all shirty with me because I said he was unqualified to judge whether women were hot or not. I still think I'm right, but I feel a little bit like a homophobic dick over it.)

Sometimes I think I really miss smoking weed. Then I smoke some and feel real paranoid and uncomfortable and regret the whole thing.

In general, I think smoking weed is a better vice than drinking, and I really miss watching movies stoned. (I don't miss the drive to or from the movie theater, though.) I also do like being really confident about passing drug tests, even though I've never had to take one in my life. And having the sober authority to make fun of hippies is great.

Anyway. I have some drug friends coming into town in a couple of weeks. I'm thinking about getting some weed and smoking it by myself, so I'm used to it when they get there and can just chill out.

Now that I've written that sentence, it seems like a horrible, horrible idea.

I've decided to update my blog for the first time in, like, forever. I just watched the second Ultimate Avengers movie. It was OK, but couldn't really hold my full attention. I also have Wild Zero, starring the great guitar wolf. The movie comes highly recommended from my friend James, but I don't think I have the heart for it right now.

I was on the radio last week. Interested parties can check it out here: http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/wnpr/news.newsmain?action=article&ARTICLE_ID=954828

More TK, I suppose.

A very good friend of mine wrote the lead article in this month's issue of The Believer. There's an excerpt from the article here:
http://www.believermag.com/issues/200608/?read=article_zaitchik

I haven't had the chance to read the whole article yet, but it looks pretty good.

I forget what show or movie I was watching the other day when I realized that my life was boring by comparison. It was an obvious realization, and I was being a little unfair to my lifestyle. Television and movies tend to edit out scenes of people stuck in traffic, watching tv or surfing the internet. And when things are scripted, there is, of course, a heightened sense of drama. Real life rarely compares to a script, even when the script's writer is a hack.

But despite all that pretty rational reasoning, I decided to try to emulate the lives of fictional characters. I made more phone calls, and bothered less with chit chat. I went to more places and took more possibly comic risks (My car's tank has been on empty for about a day and a half. comedy has thankfully yet to ensue). And this afternoon, when I hit the wall at work sometime around 3:30, instead of rereading gawker, I left the office and visited a friend. We rapped for a while, real rat-tat-tat shit about politics and old familiar gags.

Then, when I got back to my office I found out that a local radio station wants to interview me. Sometime after that, I found out an old roommate was talking shit about me on the other side of America. After my car stalled off a highway onramp I took a long distance cell phone call while walking in the rain.

Anyway, the next time I get drunk with someone I haven't talked to in a while I have stuff to talk about besides TV. So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.

It's the night of the Connecticut Democratic primary and the air is electric! No, not really. Everything's pretty dull. I'm waiting for returns to come in. Honestly, at this point (which is just before 9), I think it could go either way. More tk.

But, just so all 2 of my blog readers now where I stand, here's an excerpt from an article I wrote last week:

Lieberman's got to go. He's emblematic of the shittiest aspects of the Democrats. He's a moralizing pro-war killjoy who crowds out all the room in the public discourse that should be reserved for truth, justice and fun.

I have no doubt that Lamont will be grinded into hamburger by Washington within the first 60 days of his first term if he wins the Senate seat. But at least he'd be entering the butcher shop with the best of intentions.

In any event, I'm really looking forward for this election being over, and will be glad when the rest of the country goes back to ignoring Connecticut like usual.

article here: http://www.freezerbox.com/archive/article.php?id=450

UPDATE: Drudge is reporting Lamont won. No one else has. I think I hate Matt Drudge.

UPDATE: Lamont won. In other news, tonight's episode of Rescue Me was pretty good.

I went to a police station today. No big deal, because of the nature of my job I go to them a lot. It's always sort of weird being in them and being neither a cop nor a criminal. I overheard the dispatcher laugh about a call that came in -- apparently some dude was banging on some car in some parking lot with a hammer. The cop made some crack about how they'd send over 60 squad cars. Then a couple of bailbondsmen marched in some poor dude with a warrant. What was odd was how the bailbondsmen were laughing and joking with their prisoner guy.

Two weird things have happened to me at police stations. Once, when I was about to meet with some cops, I got sick. I think I was massively hung over on a hot day with a car with no air conditioning. I ended up vomiting in the parking lot. I went across the street to a drug store, bought some breath mints and water and went to the meeting anyway. I looked like some kind of cowboy movie rummy. But I figured what were they going to do, arrest me? They gave me the hairy fish eye for a second, but everything ended up being pretty uneventful.

The other weird thing was when I was a kid. I was in, like, first or second grade and my class was touring the local police department. The cop leading the tour had his back to me while we were walking through the holding cells. Unable to resist a sudden impulse, I reached over and touched his gun. The cop, no doubt amused, put my whole second grade class in the holding cell. I think he was going to do that anyway, but he told the class it was because of what I did. Which did wonders for my popularity.

Anyway. Police stations are nice places to visit, assuming you can leave whenever you want.

I'm jealous of pro ball players for a lot of reasons. But when it rains, I feel that jealous sting the most. I work in a climate controlled office, but when it rains, energy just drains from my body. My head feels like its filled with cotton and I can't work or even think straight.

It rained today and I wish that there were a couple of dudes in stadium uniforms putting out tarp. I just wanted to go home and put my life on rain delay. Instead I bought a four-pack of red bull at a gas station and blasted the new Don Cab album over my headphones and rattled myself through the day.