Okay - let the lashings begin...

I went ahead and bought the Susan Boyle debut CD.  Seriously.  I haven't bought an actual CD in years - with the exception of the Vera Lynne CD we bought for Brian's mom for Christmas, everything I have bought musically has been via downloads.

And I'm totally not ashamed.

Granted, Susan is not a trained singer.  She is not Lady Gaga.  She is not Madonna.

But you have to give her props, regardless.

I mean, I have a total jealousy love/hate thing going here.  My father and grandfather were naturally gifted tenors.  Even my indigent, drug-addled, mentally deficient ape-smack of a younger brother seems to have inherited a legitimate voice.

And I did once. I used to have a gorgeous falsetto -  the voices of angels expressed through a spotty adolescent.  I sang with my father in a barbershop chorus.  I used to sing for family - tears were shed over the absolute crystalline gorgeousness of my voice.

Then - puberty hit.

I went from a tenor to a lead to a baritone to a bass - all in the space of about 3 months.

I could belt out an Oak Ridge Boys bass line - but I could no longer achieve those angelic heights of musical bliss that I once could.  I mean, what fun is singing with your lower intestine?

And then I gave up.  If I had one regret in life, it's that I never developed my new voice.

Susan is like a sister to me.  She's an underdog.  She has raw talent - like we all did at one time in our life.

She may not be as technically proficient as today's pop or Broadway/West End stars, but I couldn't imagine being confident enough to stand up against the orchestration of Madonna's "You'll see."

But her rendition of "Who I was born to be" gives you a glimpse of her real talent - strong, heartfelt and real. A natural artist with a gorgeous voice.

Not all the tracks are to my taste, but I'm glad to have dipped my toe in to see what she has.

I predict great things for Ms. Boyle.

If nothing else, she will always have a fan in me.

Holy marriage, Batman!

Looks like the Three Stooges convention we call the New York State Senate might FINALLY get around to a vote on marriage equality!

It's also amusing that regressive Democrat and scumbag, Pastor Ruben Diaz, has fled the clown car to go to his office and pray.  It's also worth noting that he mentions an "agreement."  Diaz was on of the original gang of four rogue Democrats who threatened to take their ball and go home unless they were treated like the pretty princesses they want to be (this includes the now testicle-less Pedro Espada of the failed senate coup earlier this year and the soon-to-be-booted Hiram Monserrate who decided to carve up his fiance's face with a broken glass).

You gotta live here to believe it folks.  Only Texas and South Carolina politics are weirder (sorry Bob).

Poor Ruben.  He keeps making deals and, like Charlie Brown with the football, he never seems to learn when he ends up on his ass (yes - the Kingstonian comment in the article is mine).

Please send all your good thoughts, prayers, chants and positive energies towards New York tonight folks - whether we win or lose, we at least deserve a vote.

I'd really love to be a first class citizen in this state that I love.

Even if the inmates are running the asylum.

Fingers crossed, folks!

Post-it confessions

Today's word: Thankful

 thank⋅ful   [thangk-fuhl]
–adjective 
  feeling or expressing gratitude; appreciative.

I would TOTALLY be thankful for this.

A holiday break

Well, it's that time of year again.  Time to take a break from the work-a-day week and get some practice in for the big holiday season coming up.  Time to reflect and celebrate the fact that a few hundred years ago, we brought our syphilitic, alcoholic, barbarian asses across the Atlantic and destroyed entire native civilizations and species.

Yay - go us!!

But it's an excuse to stay home, cook, drink and spend time together.  We're eschewing the big family and friends get-togethers this year, and staying home in our pajamas instead.

On the menu today - some traditional fare and some not so...

• 40-garlic-clove duckling
• Spicy sweet potatoes, roasted
• Traditional homemade cranberry sauce
• Roasted brussels sprouts
• Sausage apple dressing
• Homemade pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream (from my very own pumpkin!)
  
• A 2006 Artesa pinot noir
  

Hey - any holiday that finds me in the kitchen drinking grey whales (also known as the madras cocktail  - vodka, cranberry and orange) at 10 am is good with me.

And we'll be staying put at least through tomorrow - Black Friday - when Americans lose their minds over a select few sale items being offered at ridiculously low prices and then stampede and kill each other - where usually the store security guard or employee is the casualty.

Nuh - uh - none of that for this boy.

To my American peeps - if you are traveling, be safe.  Celebrate smartly - don't become a statistic.  Have a warm and happy holiday.

And to everyone - no matter where you are - I am giving thanks for all of us being able to communicate, laugh and share. 

Hug your loved ones, send a message of cheer to someone, and give thanks that we're all here.

Cheers!!

A gross inequity

It appears that many other countries are getting much better cough drops than we Americans.

We should look into this immediately.  And bring munchies.

First - we have honey soothers in Thailand which apparently take possession of your body against your conscious will.



And then there's this frightening commercial in which a Japanese business man apparently gives rapturous birth to half-breed dookie-dookie birds all over his boss's desk.



And hey - in Peru, it just isn't a party without cough drops. Let's play and sing and get high on eucalyptus!

In which I am lain low.

Okay. I am far from being the most sympathetic guy in the world.

I admit that, readily and freely.

I've fought my way up for years and earned everything - everything I've ever achieved has been through through sacrifice, sweat and naked ambition. To me, the inability to succeed is a sign of innate weakness - a sign that one is one the wrong side of the Darwinian equation.

I sneer at foibles and perceived weaknesses. I fail to understand the underachiever - the wimp - the loser. To me, organized religion and Dollar Stores are naught but shattered temples to those who have given up on life and are subsisting on the wrinkled, dried-out teat of society.  They mingle under the feeble flourescents, this refuse, reeking of spoiled milk, nicotine and regret.

I sneer at food warning labels. Who the hell in their right mind can't ingest a little bit of gluten or survive eating a freaking peanut?

And yet...

And yet...

Cottage cheese may be the end of life as I know it.

You see - for years, I have hidden my own personal shame. Privately, it has humbled me - shamed me for my weakness. Made me shy away from the light of the Dairy Queen drive thru.

You see - I am...

I am...

I am...lactose intolerant.

There - I've said it.

For years I have been forced to shun breakfast cereals swimming in their milky brine - eschew the allure of silken yougurts - forego the sensual pleasures of milky cheeses...it is my shame and my curse.

And yet - and yet - every once in a while...I forget.

I forget and perceive that I am normal and whole.

Like tonight.

I was foraging in the refrigerator for a late night snack that would be satisfying, yet healthy.

I spotted the cottage cheese. "Aha!" says I - "something that will benefit and sate me yet will not cause me regret upon the morrow!"

Right.  BIG mistake.

You damned fool.  You should have opted for the apple.

Now - now - I am a Clive Barker movie, a grotesque, replete with other-wordly noises emanating from my person.  I feel like Jabba the Hut if he had eaten the flaming Hindenburg and then been jumped on by bears - big bears.

As I write this, I am chugging a diet soda in hopes that it will - in the words of my forebears - "kill me or cure me."  The aftermath does not bear reporting.

Pray for me that I survive the night.

I will lay in bed and writhe and make unusual sounds - all the while, cursing the dairy gods and all their yummy temptations.

And then, one day, I will forget.  Again.

I feel so...violated...

It's hard to believe, but someone tapped into my fragile subconscious and created a mash-up of two of my adolescent favorites. I can remember watching the TV show religiously right around the same time my best friend and I were cajoling our parents to let us attend rock concerts.

We were under age for both concerts.

Honest to god - I have dreams like this.

I may never sleep again...

Made me laugh

+ going to hell already, so WTF.