Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
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 brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Four thirty a.m., in the middle of nowhere. No bears sighted yet.
Bloggin’.
Drinking coffee, too.
Where there’s a will there’s a way.
Update: Note for file: Our mission of “Just a few last minute items on the way” was seriously impacted by a substandard provider of foodstuffs.
Observation: if the muzak being piped in is a steady diet of “crooner” songs…some loser begging his Jezebel to please not leave, please come back, baby, baby, begging you please…you’re in a crazy-cat-lady store. There’s no good selection of anything but candy, liquors, cigarettes and cat food.
Update 6/19/11: I shall not name the store. But I can give you the measurements of it, from my mental imprint: The meat department was all of 48″ wide, give or take…the pet food aisle was thirty or forty fucking goddamn feet long. The candy aisle was as long as the pet food aisle, but no marshmallows for shmores. That’s, you know, just too kid-friendly. No good for watching Jerry Maguire over and over again interspersed with Sex in the City reruns. Ice cream, though — yes they had ice cream. Hard liquors galore, and wine, wine, wine…for the whine, whine, whine.
Could’ve sworn there was a Raley’s in that neck of the woods. Had there been, it would have been a much quicker provisions-grabbing mission, with no need for a follow-up further down the road — and therefore, one hell of a lot cheaper.
Damn crazy cat ladies, with their crazy cat lady food stores.
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