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Creepy Guy did not return to finish fixing the leaky toilet pipe on Thursday, nor did he show up on Friday either. We shall take this up with the landlord today, as what had been a drip before his interference is now an out-and-out gush whenever the toilet is flushed (although at least it does subside once the water's through refilling). Quite annoyed at having lost an entire week to all this crapping-around and now however much longer again it's going to take to get a real plumber in.
God has apparently been making phony phone-calls to Pat Robertson again. I wish She'd cut that out, the poor man's addled enough. Although the comedic potential of seeing the televangelist of one's choice at the pulpit saying something like, "Now, the Lord is telling me to pray for Hugh Jass... Is there a Hugh Jass sitting out there watching our show?" would be priceless...
God is also screwing around with Bush, I suspect. Much as I admire and support the space program, this latest proposal for a Moon/Mars plan seems a little too much like somebody in the White House saw that scene in "Real Genius" where the supergeeks glued a radio-thingie onto the bad guy's braces and told him they were Jesus talking in his head (not to mention that I have entirely too vivid an imagination to be quite comfortable with a sudden renewed interest in the space program out of an Administration that still believes in SDI, much as Val Kilmer still pops my corn). "Because Pat Robertson says God says this will get me elected" is all very well and good but we do have to have some money to buy the widgets for it at Home Despot, y'know; we're about at the point financially where somebody needs to cut up the US's credit cards.
Now, if Bush had proposed this adventure instead of having a largely optional war in Iraq, sure, I'd almost be impressed enough to vote for the guy; I've realized, following along as 'Spirit' thumped down onto Mars and managed amidst its airsick puking to remember to call in, that insofar as my cynical little heart ever does feel tempted to swell with patriotic pride at the sight of Old Glory, it's seeing the colors flying out past the bonds of ordinary earthbound nation-state pettiness, to march in the vanguard of our whole species' quest to understand this vast universe place we live in. And what we've already blown on Iraq would have paid for more than a couple of widgets for that.
But I think that the most likely outcome of all this talk is that it'll be a nine-days'-wonder for the CNN gigglebots and then no one will get around to doing anything about it for another ten or twenty years. Which is sad, really; we could use a rallying point to unite around that doesn't involve beating the crap out of somebody else to make ourselves feel bigger. And that's the real tragedy of the situation: even what should have been a genuine gesture towards an idea larger than ourselves at a time of troubles inevitably gets twisted into fodder for political gamesmanship by that bunch of blundering elephants with no sense for the importance of the appearance of things. Is it any wonder we've lost the motivation to vote?
God has apparently been making phony phone-calls to Pat Robertson again. I wish She'd cut that out, the poor man's addled enough. Although the comedic potential of seeing the televangelist of one's choice at the pulpit saying something like, "Now, the Lord is telling me to pray for Hugh Jass... Is there a Hugh Jass sitting out there watching our show?" would be priceless...
God is also screwing around with Bush, I suspect. Much as I admire and support the space program, this latest proposal for a Moon/Mars plan seems a little too much like somebody in the White House saw that scene in "Real Genius" where the supergeeks glued a radio-thingie onto the bad guy's braces and told him they were Jesus talking in his head (not to mention that I have entirely too vivid an imagination to be quite comfortable with a sudden renewed interest in the space program out of an Administration that still believes in SDI, much as Val Kilmer still pops my corn). "Because Pat Robertson says God says this will get me elected" is all very well and good but we do have to have some money to buy the widgets for it at Home Despot, y'know; we're about at the point financially where somebody needs to cut up the US's credit cards.
Now, if Bush had proposed this adventure instead of having a largely optional war in Iraq, sure, I'd almost be impressed enough to vote for the guy; I've realized, following along as 'Spirit' thumped down onto Mars and managed amidst its airsick puking to remember to call in, that insofar as my cynical little heart ever does feel tempted to swell with patriotic pride at the sight of Old Glory, it's seeing the colors flying out past the bonds of ordinary earthbound nation-state pettiness, to march in the vanguard of our whole species' quest to understand this vast universe place we live in. And what we've already blown on Iraq would have paid for more than a couple of widgets for that.
But I think that the most likely outcome of all this talk is that it'll be a nine-days'-wonder for the CNN gigglebots and then no one will get around to doing anything about it for another ten or twenty years. Which is sad, really; we could use a rallying point to unite around that doesn't involve beating the crap out of somebody else to make ourselves feel bigger. And that's the real tragedy of the situation: even what should have been a genuine gesture towards an idea larger than ourselves at a time of troubles inevitably gets twisted into fodder for political gamesmanship by that bunch of blundering elephants with no sense for the importance of the appearance of things. Is it any wonder we've lost the motivation to vote?