I'm about to join the dark side and sell a T-shirt. Here's the final mock-up of the shirt (opens in new window).

Theoretically, the shirt should appeal to the smart set because it references the firefly joke, and to the "Git R Dun" crowd because it has the word "ass" on it.

Everybody wins!

Watching the State of the Union Address, I'm struck by the generally creepy nature of the Bush administration. From the synchronized water-drinking of Bush and Cheney, to Condi Rice's Jack-Nicholson-in-The-Shining stare, to Michael Chertoff's, well, Michael Chertoff-ness, the whole cabal just gives me the willies.

And not the Slick Willies like we had in the nineties.

There's a new trend with the kids called "ghost riding the whip" which is when somebody jumps out of a slowly moving car and dances around to some strain of hip-hop I've never heard of. Of course, people have died, so we've got to do something about it.

Here's what I'm going to do about it; I'm going to post this very amusing video:



Don't ghost ride the whip. You'll hit something and mess up your grill. Not that grill. The one on your vehicle. Oh, and maybe that other grill too, now that I think of it.

A woman mistakenly put a baby through an X-ray machine at Los Angeles International Airport.

Man, people will do anything to avoid a copay, won't they?

I always felt bad that the online version of Snaildartha: The Story of Jerry the Christmas Snail was the crappy one where the vocals drop out in the fourth or fifth chapter. Anyway, it was remastered last year and (re)released on Innova Records... I've heard tell that it did fairly well, but I really have no idea. I am about as disconnected from the mechanics of this project as I've ever been.

Now it is available for free download.

I'm going to let it speak for itself. Merry Christmas.

I'm going to be out of town on Election Day (plowing my way to Dickinson, ND, and then on to Denver), so I went to City Hall yesterday and voted. There's something very liberating about knowing that there is no way I could change my vote now, even if I wanted to. The constant barrage of ads that already started their ramp-up Sunday morning can have absolutely no effect on me, other than my influence on word-of-mouth. I'm virtually immune!

Now, if any horrible information about my candidates suddenly surfaces, I hope you guys will have my back come Election Day -- and I mean something really serious. Not breaking news that they are for or against granting in-state college tuition rates to an apparent swarm of illegal aliens (hey, that's the last ad I saw). No, I mean literal skeletons in the closet, text message transcripts clutched in their boney hands. It could happen. It's never the ones that seem to be the most likely, and I didn't vote for any of them.

I almost hope one of the folks I didn't vote for would show up at my door. It would be fun to invite them in for coffee and take up an hour of their time, just to tell them at the end I already voted. I'd enjoy watching those crazy eyes dart around as they calculate how many hours left until Election Day.

Oh, and if you're thinking of doing this for convenience, just remember. No sticker this way.

Check out my pal Brian's video response to the GOP's recent scare ad about how if you don't vote for them the filthy arabs terrorists will kill you.

Metro Transit has told a bus driver he doesn't have to drive a bus with an ad for Lavender magazine.

A city bus driver who complained about a gay-themed ad got official permission not to drive any bus that carries that ad, according to an internal memo confirmed Tuesday by Metro Transit.
Transit authorities call it a reasonable accommodation to the driver's religious beliefs...

More accurate would be to call it a reasonable accommodation to the driver's disability. Thank God for the ADA!
Also, does this mean gay drivers don't have to drive busses with ads for The Patriot?

Forgot to mention that I'm at ACME this week. Okay, I didn't forget exactly; I just wasn't sure I was going to have any new material to make it worth it for anyone who's seen me before to come out. I met with a financial advisor once who told me that the sad state of my career is a marketing problem, not a talent problem. I think she may have been right.

Anyway come one and come all. Last night was a fascinating exercise in throwing shit against the wall to see what sticks. A surprising amount hung in there, so I'll be scraping those hunks off, putting them in my bag and mopping up all the other piles from the floor, never to be seen again. I'm not afraid of a poop metaphor.

Faulkton, SD tonight. 9:30 at the Steak House if you happen to be in town. No, I did not come in to town on jackalope, though some day, perhaps I will.