Books, and Bits of Sick

I was browsing the amazon.com bestseller list this evening, as I often do to stay abreast of the common man's reading habits, when I suddenly found myself violently projectile-vomiting all over my apartment, coating the walls, furniture and my own flesh in malodorous chunks of half-digested burrito. The cuddly catalyst:

Might I present to you #30 on the amazon.com bestseller list, Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World. From the Booklist review (I kid you not):

"The story of how a bedraggled orange fur ball became "Dewey Readmore Books," an enchantingly irresistible library mascot capable of bringing international attention to a small midwestern town and melting the heart of even the most curmudgeonly visitor, is uplifting enough; but woven among the cute-cat anecdotes are Myron's own inspirational stories of enduring welfare, the abuses of an alcoholic husband, breast cancer, and single motherhood. Myron's beguiling, poignant, and tender tale of survival, loyalty, and love is an unforgettable study in the mysterious and wondrous ways animals, and libraries, enrich humanity."

Fortunately, according to my research, the "bedgraggled orange fur ball" is quite dead. Unfortunately, 'twas not by own hand, but due to "complications from a stomach tumor." I only wish that he had lived to meet the one "curmudgeonly visitor" with a heart icy enough to resist his precious purrs. Also, is it me, or is that cat's neck incredibly huge? I should contact my friends in publishing to see that the title is altered to read Dewey: The Freakish Neck-Cat That the American Reading Public Will Surely Find Inexplicably Charming But Ultimately Dies an Excruciating Death Due to a Stomach Tumor the Size of a Human Fetus.

Also, I only now realized that the Dewey name is alluding to the Dewey decimal system. Goddammit. Now if only I had a cat to lap up this puke...

The Change We Need

Good morning, internet. About a month ago, my computer hit Y2K and it wasn't until yesterday that I rejoined this marvelous century in which ammunition storage is not measured in terms of days. I hereby accept your invitation to blog. I will be the change we can count on. Second, effective immediately I fully revive this blog. Seriously. Don't let this be one of those things that I somehow don't get in on until after it's pretty much already dead and I've been lost and probably wandered into some Stairwells house party and left with a case and a half of beer and some girl's phone number whose name I don't know. And somehow you fuckers had a better time than I did. Fuck you guys. I'm leaving this blog. Gonna start my own blog.



I need to catch up on past topics. I see Luke (are we using real names or is this like CB radio?) already dropped Palin Syrah on you (10-4!). But I get paid to get a buzz and type awesome shit into the state ABC site for wine distributors. I'll make it a point to add them as I find or remember them.

Proposal- scrap mad dawgs night next time and go with a bro man night.


not to worry. already ordered it.