Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
For the past three years or so I’ve had a superhero living in my head called Shushman. Being an object of fantasy, Shushman is extraordinarily flexible, gaining a brand new superpower every time someone in real life does something to cheese me off. At first, all he could do was throw down an Invisible-Girl-type of soundproof bubble over things that made noise…like a television set with a commercial four times louder than the program it was interrupting, or a convertible with the top down and the boom-boom-chicka-boom music blaring out of its speakers. It will come as no great shock that merely silencing said convertibles was not a satisfactory arrangement for too long, and Shushman acquired the power to disable engines very soon afterward.
One of my blogger friends let loose with a pet peeve over at the Hello Kitty of Blogging about people ordering vast amounts of food at the drive through and tying up the line. It gave me cause to think about the last time Shushman acquired a new superpower (someone did something to piss me off)…just a few weeks ago. I hadn’t written about it at the time.
Shushman can use telekinesis to revoke “man-cards.” It’s an idea whose time has come.
We have this franchise out here that whips up fresh smoothies while you watch them. This is promoted as a kind of a health food, which is a claim with lots of pros and cons I’ll not try to examine here. The drinks do seem to have a lot of sweetening for something upon which you’d rely as a diet staple…but they do pack a lot of vitamins and electrolytes and other things you need to have replenished if you’re out riding a bike or something.
Well, the place also sells health bars. They’re positioned, insidiously, at eye-height to a child…which is a purest form of evil. But anyway, there’s like four, five, six or more flavors of the things. I’m waiting my turn in line and the guy in front of me is still in the middle of his order — he whips out a flip phone. Not a candy-bar phone, but a clamshell, the kind little girls talk on. Which is fine…to each their own…but…
He waits for someone to pick up on the other end and reads off the six flavors of health bar to this person. He can’t see me, but I’m still doing everything I can to suppress a massive eyeball roll. And then he reads them again because the other person was not paying attention. He complets the phone call, then completes the order, the guy at the cash register says “all right, will that be all?” and the customer says “I hope so.”
Aiiieeeggh!!! Balls. Whatever happened to ’em?
In my mind’s eye, Shushman points and there is a barely audible sound, like a mosquito flying into a bug zapper. The man card disappears, and nobody will ever notice anyway…
Back in reality, though, seriously. Seriously. Get to know what your lady likes…and if you can’t do that, get to know what she can’t stand. Then order for her…KEEP…THE LINE…MOVING. If she doesn’t like what you picked out, shrug your shoulders and remind her that if she really cared you wouldn’t have been put on the spot like that. This is a perfect solution for the worst case scenario — it is only needed for the worst case, remember. If it still isn’t good enough for her, the she was never good enough for you.
Some days, I seriously think there must be an enormous ancient flying saucer, or meteor, or mineral deposit buried under Folsom that shrinks balls.
They only moved the tombstones, those sons-of-bitches, they only moved the tombstones.
Update: On the subject of male-female relations, and men making the relationship a tougher thing to maintain by being too flexible, accommodating and mushy…you really should check out this contribution blogsister Daphne made to that subject a couple days ago.
I’m not going nearly as far as Cyrano-in-the-bushes, here. I’m just saying the Good Lord didn’t put man here to be a living menu-board. Gentlemen, once you’re taking down some list of options and presenting them to your sweetie for her to pick one, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Generally, it’s a pretty fair statement to make that this isn’t what women want in a man. They don’t like doing all the choosing. If they have to do that, what do they need you for?
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