Shameless self-promotion!

If you don't know about my show, looky looky.

Overheard in a men's room...

"Your cheeks are rosy."

Admittedly, I take a dim view of conversation in a public restroom, but come on. The speaker was referring to what cold does to the human face, but really.

Tom Zarek may have been right.

Read no further if you fear BSG spoilers! (Or at least don't follow the link)

The argument against Cylon alliance.

Some "common sense"

Look, I understand why John McCain would turn to the "wisdom" of Joe the Plumber in the waning days of his campaign; I mean, when you're desperate you take some long shots. But why is the Republican Party still listening to this man?

His name's not Joe. He isn't a plumber. He doesn't own a business. Not only would he not have paid more taxes under Obama's plan, he's apparently had trouble paying taxes at all. Joe the Plumber is a figment of the GOP's collective imagination, constructed from phony populism and empty, blue-collar hero worship with just a dash of anti-intellectualism.

Come to think of it, maybe he's the perfect Republican spokesman after all.

"I'd like to help you Tom in any way I can
I sure appreciate the way you're working with me
I'm not a monster, Tom...well, technically I am
I guess I am."

Artist: Jonathan Coulton
Song: RE: Your brains
Album: Thing A Week (Two)

The nightmare made plush!

Thanks to John. I think.

I had...a nightmare?

Before I go into this, you have to know two things:

1) From time to time I have spider dreams, in which arachnids (usually large and gross) feature prominently and I wake in a panic.

2) A drider is a AD&D monster that is a dark elf who pissed off the Demon Queen of Spiders and got cursed with a part-spider body. Picture a centaur except with a spider bottom and you've pretty much got it.

OK, back to the nightmare. I was on a raptor (yes, from "Battlestar Galactica") piloted by Margaret "Racetrack" Edmonson and accompanied by Saul Tigh. Racetrack took us to this large under-construction-looking space structure, and then we donned spacesuits and left the raptor. We climbed along the structure until we reached this little alcove in which there was a sort of web-nest containing a single baby drider. Clearly, there are no baby driders, but that's not what was odd. What was odd was that the drider was plush. And what was bizarre was that the drider was Andy Dick, or at least from the waist up. (The rest, naturally, was spider.) When this offense to gods and man began to push itself mewling out of its nest, I started kicking at it and I woke up kicking at Dan.

So...I had a nightmare in which I was menaced by a baby, plush, Andy-dick drider. Great Zeus, but this job is getting to me.