After reading The World Without Us, I've gotten mildly obsessed with the Voyager mission's Golden Record. Did you guys know about this? How did I miss this cool information? It combines two of my very favorite things: doomsday scenarios and record geekery!
I know for years, after I have had a few beers, I start ranting about NASA and how all that massive expenditure of taxpayer dollars was good for is memory foam and pens that write upside-down...but this is kinda rad. For the record (ahem, Brett), I don't really feel like I need to edit my current "stock NASA rant" that much, though, because I always made an allowance for the Mars Rover mission and Hubble and all those deep space exploration things, so I'll just add this on. My stance on the shuttle program still stands! Suck it!
So there is that commercial for some car where they lock a guy in the vehicle with a badger and her babies, and I was bitching about it to Mr. Pink. It's this thing I have where I do not think it is fair to pick on an animal that is cute, even if it could rip your face off. I know it's not sense-making, but shut up.
As a consequence for sharing this illogical bit of pissiness, I am now getting a steady stream of badger-themed videos via email from Mr. P. Here is one that transfixed me from this afternoon:
b) The United Church of Christ. Not exactly a whackass cult, just a MAINSTREAM CHRISTIAN DENOMINATION, with roots in the 17th century (the origin of the Congregational church, which merged with the Evangelical & Reformed Church in the 1950s). I am a titch biased because this is the church I belong to, of course, but come the eff on, morons, don't piss me off by suggesting it's some lunatic fringe freakshow. I'm happy to be part of a church associated with Rev. Wright, who is a respected thinker in liberation theology and religion in general. So there! And finally,
c) That no one is familiar enough with the Biblical story of the Prophet Jeremiah (who's Wright's namesake, of course), who was thrown into a pit to die because people in power thought he didn't love his country enough (although he spoke to his countrymen out of love), is just so effing IRONIC, I could spit nails.
I realized too late that I should have amended my post from yesterday to read, "But I will be sure to get into a bar fight at the French bistro, just to keep with the Irish spirit." Ha ha.
No worries though, Saint Patrick punished me from the Great Beyond (or, like, wherever saints live) by smiting me with horrible sickness for eating a dinner mostly of butter, cheese and red meat on a day designated by God Himself as time to eat corned beef and green beer and then puke on the street corner.
(Shoutout to the lady wretching on 33rd last night -- at first I thought you were a crack addled street person, but then I saw your green shamrock anntenae headband -- you go, sister, with your Irish self!)
(Also, serious shoutout to the wacky drunk chick on the Bergen Line last night, you were hys-TER-ical. I hope that ancient, balding British guy you were incoherently hitting on had sex with you! And, uhm, that the beer goggles lasted that long for you, sweetie.)
Anyway, back to slowly dying of butter. When will I learn???