A few weeks ago, at the local Main Street Festival, I signed up to be on the mailing list for the Northern Prince George's County Republican Club (NPGCRC). Now you all know where I stand politically -- independent; I evaluate the issues as they come and side with no party, though I tend to be left-leaning -- but I thought it might be interesting to read the group's e-mails and perhaps, time permitting, drop in on meetings from time to time. Also, I had to make nice with the reps so they'd let me have my photo taken with the life-sized cardboard Bush, which they'd kind of hidden away because people were attacking it and threatening it with death!

Anyway, I only mention this because the latest e-mail from the group urges recipients to e-mail Mark Whitaker, Newsweek's editor, and request that he demand that the persons responsible for running the Guantanamo Bay Quran flushing story resign from their posts. "No other industry can cause so much damage and not have to pay legal consequences," it reads. "This is the least that American's [sic] can expect for an article that caused the death of 17 people and caused irreparable harm to the reputation of the U.S. around the globe." (more...)

And now, a rare WESOTERIC post about relationships! YAY!

Having observed a number of dates via television shows and having read a number of failed date blog entries, I've noticed that one of the most prevalent reasons that an otherwise good date doesn't lead to a romantic relationship is that there just isn't that *spark* -- that sexual attraction, that aching desire to molest the other person and use his/her delectable body for one's pleasure and gratification -- for at least one of the parties. Even when the two parties really get along and hit it off personality-wise, the decision may be made during the second or even first date that the two should simply be friends rather than try to force something that just isn't there. That is, even in the face of a highly compelling reason to continue to pursue a romantic relationship, the initial absence of something so insignificant as conscious sexual attraction (note the italicized word; we'll come back to that later) is enough to halt any further attempts to make progress on that front. Because there's no spark.

I think this is a mistake. (more...)

A couple of weeks ago, TAB completed an exercise (from "Dating for Dummies", no less) that requires one to list ten things one likes about oneself. He then suggested that all of his readers give it a try as well -- and shortly thereafter, Becky (and probably more people; I don't know and/or remember) followed suit. I didn't, however, and furthermore noted that I'd have a hard time coming up with even one item for such a list. It's not that I don't think that there is anything to like about myself, nor is it that there aren't things that I don't like about myself. There probably are. It's just that, unless I'm drunk and rocking out to Billy Idol, I don't think about them a whole lot -- or at least not in a positive context. (more...)

Okay. Somebody explain this shit to me, because I'm fucking confused.

Why the fuck would you fill a Purex detergent container with Tide?

Okay, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but it makes no sense whatsoever. We're dealing with principle here, and it's not like the Tide container pisses on the carpet and takes dumps in the dishwater. Nor does the Purex container sing and dance Irish jigs and magically pour itself. The Purex container has no special qualities or properties to recommend it over the Tide container, so there's no reason not to simply throw away or recycle the Purex container and pour the Tide from the container it fucking came in to begin with.

SO WHY DO IT?!?!?!? (more...)

So during my comparatively tranquil work day today, I had the peace of mind to turn my thoughts to other things -- and it was during just such a moment of unclouded thinking that I realized that one of my co-workers is quite beautiful. Her head is topped off with shining black hair, her face is bright and attractive, with large eyes and a smile to melt the coldest of hearts (and she is almost always smiling), and her body is absolutely perfect. She has a slender figure, just out of the range of being too slender -- in addition to the slight thickness of her arms, minimal curves on the Z-axis put her over -- and when she moves, she doesn't float or glide like a nymph or skip airily about like a mere wisp of a girl would, but she goes through the motions like a creature of flesh and blood, like something subject to the simplified laws of a high school Physics course in which air resistance is typically negated. (more...)