Reading right now:

Recently Finished:

CD Obsessions:

Tuesday, November 20, 2001 - 07:30 p.m. -
Psychedelic Republican trading cards. Just as awesome as it sounds.

Tuesday, November 20, 2001 - 05:21 p.m. -
Oooh, ooh, I just had a great idea for a brand name. Tired of Tofurkey? Hate the idea of eating your ancestors, should one or more reincarnate in the form of a domestic fowl? Try new:

CURD-BIRD!

There, now it's copyrighted.

Tuesday, November 20, 2001 - 03:10 p.m. -
OK, so I don't usually do this, but it is an awfully funny picture. This is our leader in times of war and peace.

Tuesday, November 20, 2001 - 03:08 p.m. -
Some folks were nearly hit by the Leonids Saturday night! Woo hoo!

Tuesday, November 20, 2001 - 02:40 p.m. -
"Remember when Reagan used to say that Lenin refused to listen to music, for fear it would make him go soft, make him lose his revolutionary zeal? I don’t know whether it’s true: but I enjoyed it when Reagan said it, and I think the spirit is right."

OK, so if your first response was similar to mine(viz. "Another Republican moron...") read on:

I got to thinking that maybe I could abstract the Republicanism out of it. How about "(Human X) said (Questionable Statement Y). Its truth is irrelevant because I like (Human X)."

So who's your Human X? Nader? Jesus? Chomsky? Burroughs? Julia Butterfly Hill? Cringeley? Your girlfriend? Yourself?

Monday, November 19, 2001 - 01:28 p.m. -
Here's an accurately-named product but they maybe should have spent more time thinking it all through. Apparently some joker found it advertised in Cosmo...

Sunday, November 18, 2001 - 09:34 p.m. -
The Leonids were fantastic. Plenty (I dunno, hundreds?) of shooting stars arcing over the sky, some going halfway across and taking their time doing it. Often enough there'd be some spectacular ion tails - laying on the cold cold ground has never been so worthwhile.

Sunday, November 18, 2001 - 09:30 p.m. -
Ha. The Economist is funny. Election correction.

Thursday, November 15, 2001 - 10:43 p.m. -
My only sister has a blog now. And a kick-ass nom de pitas, as well. Go Jill!

Thursday, November 15, 2001 - 10:37 p.m. -
A new page and a new writing game sample. For those of you just tuning in, I play a dorky, competitive/anti-competitive writing game with pals who send me a word or phrase or two and then expect me to write ~300 words incorporating them within 24 hours. Then I pass the torch on to one of them, and so on. Try to guess what the catch-phrases were in:

The End of Haiku

Looking in her eyes
I asked the donkey sweetly
"Please jump up my butt."

This is terrible. I should have known better than to try to explain this ancient and delicate art to American children. They have an incorrect understanding of "free expression" and take delight only in the effort to be shocking. Even my deep calm is interpreted by them as resistance to their prodding. My ancestors have the luxury of weeping.

Donkey upside-down -
Why did you jump up my butt?
My kung fu the best.

Jesus. Little fucks. At least this shit's not on the state tests. Give them just one day away from the standard shit and they go fucking loony. Guess I would too, but what was she thinking? This shocking me? These days they have to fucking shoot up their friends to get a word in edgewise and she thought she could poke me in the eye with a haiku? Another F for Lizzie, like she cares.

Jumping up my butt:
Camel penguin saxophone
Even a donkey.

Did you even try, Rob? Wait, don't answer yet. Remember the poems I read in class, the little diamonds of beauty, real moments frozen in time and...and...look at this again. "Camel penguin saxophone?" What does that mean to you? Uh-huh, I thought so. How does this reflect your reality, your own personal viewpoint, where is "Rob" in all this nonsense? Do you see what I mean? Why don't you try again?

Misty donkey friend
Mountain made for jumping up
My butt one with his

Very Important Persons

Sites of Interest

Old Logs' Home

Contact Me

Rob Lightner