wanna go HOME now...

  So Much For Palimony

18 January 2000

9:54 PM: I tried getting to bed before too late last night, and getting up before noon today. The first part mostly worked out - yes, tranquilizers and melatonin will make you sleepy - the second part mostly didn't. I forget why. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out whether I really did have a time machine or not. I was resisting the idea that it was only a dream pretty hard, because it had just hit me that one thing I could do with a time machine was sneak in "extra" days whenever I wanted.

Like right then, for instance. If I was too sleepy to get up, no problem. I could just go back in time about 10 hours and go back to sleep. Wouldn't I have to share the bed with myself or something? No, because it's not really the same time stream, no paradoxes allowed you know.

But sad to say, it hadn't happened. I've really got to do something about these dreams, you know. Find a way to record them or something. I'm sure I wrote the equivalent of two junk novels this weekend. They're also why I started writing this journal-ish thing here. I get extremely confused about what did or didn't happen sometimes. Am I really Sandra Bullock's ex-wife? No?

Arkan is dead, ha ha ha. Although it probably would have been best if he could have turned state's (world's?) and fingered Slobberdan. But of the several people who deserved to be shot several times in the face, he was one.

I'm so glad I have a lousy credit rating.

11:11: Wow, that's a banananananana time.

Anyway, after much fruitless thought, this month's pinup ends up being Beck again, because I have to admit it, I've been playing Midnite Vultures all the time. But don't take my word for it, listen to what this discerning media critic has to say:

I am pissed off... these sons of bitches can't keep their stupidity to themselves.I must be the golden nugget of books. Why must all of these faggots and pregnant chicstalk to me. I understand that insults are straight crude, but to hide behind a kind and humaine being is fucking sick in its own way. Small time comunity collegessuck big cock, too. It's like the meeting ground for all of these hairless bastards."Fruity tuity automatic kazooty," is the only way to explain it and those words were from the performing artist Beck. Where do these rapping cow hands come from? Spin magazine voted that Rap went out with the millinium. Live your own life, but don't make an ass out of yourself.

(-from Whining and Wishing)

Sky Blue, Scientists Report Dept.:

Among the Inept, Researchers Discover, Ignorance Is Bliss

[...] People who do things badly, Dr. Dunning has found in studies conducted with a graduate student, Justin Kruger, are usually supremely confident of their abilities -- more confident, in fact, than people who do things well.


"Not only do they reach erroneous conclusions and make unfortunate choices, but their incompetence robs them of the ability to realize it," wrote Dr. Kruger, now an assistant professor at the University of Illinois, and Dr. Dunning.

This deficiency in "self-monitoring skills," the researchers said, helps explain the tendency of the humor-impaired to persist in telling jokes that are not funny, of day traders to repeatedly jump into the market -- and repeatedly lose out -- and of the politically clueless to continue holding forth at dinner parties on the fine points of campaign strategy.

Any similarity to anyone nearby is purely coincidental. Ha ha ha ha! Oh I crack me up.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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