Wrapped Up Like A Douche

Dinette Vignettes, vol. mcvxi
Polk St. Station, last Saturday, 1 p.m. The burly waiter guy interrupts our conversation when someone mentions Tom Jones... "Tom Jones! I remember my mom bein' crazy about Tom Jones in the seventies. She used to wear those little tiny miniskirts with the panties that were the same color so she wouldn't get in trouble when she sat down! Eh? Know what I mean?" A few minutes later he intrerrupts the lesbian couple next to us: "Hey, you goin' to see Willie Nelson?"

WULAD Wreccomends...
Paul Fisher (of WWKAD? but currently serving as de facto chief of the Neal Pollack government-in-exile) has a suprisingly charitable yet inevitably and appropriately cutting review of aspiring dark lord and dulcet-toned demagogue Bill O'Reilly's recent appearance (and disappearance) on NPR's Fresh Air; I found the following comment particularly incisive: "It's almost hard for me to write about it because I hate Bill O'Reilly so much. And it has surprisingly little to do with his politics... but more to do with his complete disrespect for reasoned analysis or logic. Either that or his ass face."

And here's a nice photo of Condoleeza Rice pouting. And one of the Prez frowning like a Muppet.


One More Thing
Mimi Smartypants was recently saddened to discover that her favorite postmodern Joycean critique and breakfast cereal had been discontinued by the manufacturer. I was lucky enough to find one more box, though. Click the box to view.