I'm Always Keeping You Up to Date on the Cool Stuff
- I like cheese.
- Clearly, you've been educated beyond your intelligence.
- Heidegger says that the shores themselves don't come into existence until the bridge is built. What do you say?
- That's cool, but what about cooters? I love cooters.
Also, some site called Martini Ministry has been sending readers my way. I don't know who this person is, but I love the idea of a Martini Ministry and her word of the day is "colpocoquette" which is a "woman who knows she has an attractive bosom and makes good use of its allure." If only I knew how to pronounce that, I would use it all the time.
Plus, I had some thoughts on what little bit of the Grammys I watched before I got sucked into Skip Gates's latest PBS thing. Here they are:
- Gwen Stefani. God damn it. I used to hate her. But seeing her all fat and happy, wearing what appeared to be some kind of weird animal print slip cover? The seduction is complete. I love her.
- If I can count your ribs between your tits, you are too thin, Sheryl Crow.
- Kelly Clarkson just cutes me half-to-death.
- Kanye West. I love you and your crazy ass ways. But if it's cold enough that you need to be wearing gloves, you do not need to have your shirt unbuttoned that far.
- I don't know when it happened, but Madonna now looks like a very skinny version of my grandma. This should gross me out, but I miss my grandma, so I find it comforting to watch Madonna turn into her.
And then Skip Gates's thing. You know how I have this sneaking suspicion that all "Bessie"s are amazingly kick-ass woman and that I've been cheated by not being named Bessie? Well, I'm beginning to suspect that "Skip" is a clear sign of a cool man. My love for Skip James cannot be understated and now Skip Gates has won his way into my heart by limping around on a broken ankle, informing Quincy Jones that he's 33% European.
Probably nothing would make me happier than heading down to the recalcitrant brother's house to swab for DNA and be able to have Skip Gates sit across the table from him and say in his way, "Recalcitrant brother, how much sub-Saharan African DNA do you think you have? Well, it's 10%!!!" or whatever. That would tickle me to no end.