Monday, August 30, 2010
I have to tell you the truth. I'm feeling unusually placid, with none of the gritty cerebral irritants so essential to creating the requisite ranty pearls of prose. I've tried. I swear. I checked the news. Plenty of outrageous stuff, but the appropriate responders have responded with appropriate outrage, so there's no work for me there. But I promise you, should I see the opportunity for any sort of cheap joke, BAM! I'll be all over it like an onomatopoeia. And meanwhile, at the Home for Retired Metaphors, all the old similes are sitting around like, oh, I don't know
Monday, August 23, 2010
Yup, there you are. Right on time. All like, “Let's go see what kind of absolutely free rant Dave has provided for us this week.” Did it ever occur to you that I might have something better to you than type up a rant for you on a Monday morning? Like maybe I have a dental appointment and won't have time to write anything, or maybe I'm just the teensiest bit tired of providing exactly 100 words right on schedule, rain or shine, come hell or high water? Maybe this week there just won't be any 100 word rant.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Gardening up north means growing plants. Gardening down south means killing plants. I was cutting back some weeds that were choking out the kudzu when I made the mistake of looking too close and realized I was scaring the living crap out of a brilliant green newborn anole no bigger than the first joint of my thumb. And I tried not to think of how many little lizards I had hacked in two already, or the teeny snails I was depriving of life-giving shade. And I kept right on chopping. Think that's how government and business leaders feel about us?
Monday, August 9, 2010
You think this is hot? This ain't hot. In a part of Iran called Dasht-e Lut it gets up to about 70 degrees. Celsius. That's around 158 Fahrenheit. The area is abiotic, meaning it supports no life at all, not even bugs or germs. Too hot for people? It's too hot for baking meringue. Meanwhile, the World Sauna Championship ended when the last two contestants lost consciousness and had to pulled from the 110 degree C (100 is boiling) heat and hospitalized. One of them died, which I think means he wins, since he stayed in for his whole life.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Observations and musings from the Interstate: For one thing, the phrase "observations and musings" pretty much relegates me to the category of purveyor of droll anecdotes who ought to be named Josh Something. Dagnabit. Anyway, Alabama license plates used to say "Stars Fell on Alabama," recalling a lovely song from 1934. Now they say "Sweet Home," recalling Lynyrd Skynyrd. Note to Montgomery muckety-mucks: A jump into the 21st century shouldn't require a layover in the '70s. And then, here's my idea for a tribute band that plays Australian hard rock covers absolutely perfect down to the very tiniest detail. OCDC.