Don Quixote Quote of the Day

“Now turn your eyes in the other direction, and you will see in front of and at the head of the other army the ever victorious and never defeated Timonel of Carcajona, prince of Nueva Vizcaya, who wears his armor quartered—blue, green, white and yellow—and who bears on his shield a cat of gold on a tawny field, with a legend that reads: Meow.”

(Grossman translation, p. 128)

Alarming Developments in the Heavens

Some sort of strange yellow orb appeared in the sky today, bringing with it bright light and heat. There’s something oddly familiar about it, and yet I fear it, and have been fighting the impulse to put a towel over my head and begin chanting.

Can it be that the sky is finally empty of its liquid contents? Much as I’ve been wishing for a respite from the downpour, now that it’s here, I feel uneasy, like this is just a pause before the next plague begins. I hope it’s frogs. That was always my favorite. I don’t see what’s so bad about frogs; they’re definitely preferable to boils, and certainly to the smiting of the firstborn. Much as I enjoy a good smiting, that’s one I personally prefer to avoid.

Hmm, kind of rambling here. Punchy. Think the Seasonal Affective has disrupted my sleep pattern. Better leave off now. Hope all is well in your world.

The Sopranos & the Rainy Season

The only upside of this endless fucking rain we’ve been having is that it’s prompted me to finally get serious about The Sopranos, which I’ve been holding in reserve for just such an occasion. It’s all good, but the show really hits a peak in the fourth season, where I am now. Each episode is a little universe unto itself. I’ve watched several times now one where Johnny Sack, underboss of the New York family, goes insane with rage over a joke Joe Pantoliano’s character makes about his refrigerator-sized wife.

Spoiler alert: I’m not going to hold anything back, so if you haven’t seen this yet, by all means go rent it right now, then come back and finish reading after you’ve watched it.

Revenge of the Poetic Spam

My spam filter seems to have gotten hip to these, so I haven’t gotten one in my inbox for awhile, but the following slipped through a couple days ago. I think that this is about George W. Bush (best line: “extemporaneous bicker toga flow, a Republican radiologist whitewash”).

Monitor Exhibition
analogy pissed presumption
bedspread intercourse corduroy
an apex as sound barrier, by payload humanize a skit escapist
inspirational valuable appetite
minus sign wrought elsewhere
instant solitaire and grounds, with whistle dressing room
knee-deep expertly copulate
contradiction avail vandalize sheepishly as squid affect
untried brave in hyper reclining
menstruate smitten: that malaria and clam threatening
write-up phone book of flaunt ignore, that upheld a pragmatist
the tug of pen pal fearlessness and pride
extemporaneous bicker toga flow, a Republican radiologist whitewash
a spry balance of power by male chauvinist employment agency
industrialist thereabouts jockey
an ATM, the nail polish, a brainstorm, the handpicked accessibility
unbearable the obstruction
obliterate animal October expressly to hill parochial
ecosystem and contemplative grouping
that duke rat race
subdued Chief Executive to voice the parched greatness
the smoke screen bricklayer
wheat, comatose, rapt pole vault!