In comment #1, Post blogger Marilyn Marks poses a provocative analogy: "[A] single man starts building his new home, designed as one room cabin, just for him. Quarter way through the construction, he marries a woman with three kids. And he discovers that his planners made a huge cost estimating error, and the single room home is going to cost many times more than anticipated. The new wife suggests that they pool their assets and redesign the home to accommodate their family and their budget. The man’s ego about his dream cabin stands in the way of logic and acceptance of the changed conditions. So he goes about completing the project the way he envisioned it, albeit a many times the cost he expected, and insisting that somehow his new family of five could manage in the one room house."
"I hope candidate Obama picks Senator Joe Biden for Vice President" Post blogger Mitch Mulhall writes. "The very idea of it makes me giddy over the rich entertainment possibilities... the talking heads in both major and minor media outlets are quick to toss Biden into VP mix as an obvious remedy to Obama’s dismal foreign policy experience. Whenever I hear pundits of any stripe go in deep for Biden, I grin from ear-to-ear and knock on wood, knowing this could easily lead to gaffes that get more mileage than Dick Cheney hitting Harry Whittington in the face with bird shot." Breaking: Obama selects Biden
In comment #3, Post blogger Kit O'Carra defines a drum circle using Wikipedia and the 1991 Senate testimony of grateful dead drummer Mickey Hart. "A drum circle is any group of people playing (usually) hand-drums and percussion in a circle... Typically, people gather to drum in drum "circles" with others from the surrounding community. The drum circle offers equality because there is no head or tail... and a new voice, a collective voice, emerges from the group as they drum together. "
I thought about signing up for the now-near-famous-and-yet-to-happen Obama text message announcing his VP choice, but I detest cell phone text messaging on principle. I spent too many years studying English literature, refining my usage, and expanding my vocabulary to find the hackneyed, vanity-plate-brevity of text messaging a form of meaningful communication. And besides, while Obama has a rich field of experienced politicians to choose from, I have particularly high hopes for one possible outcome...
[J]ournalists presume a mantle of authority based on an intellectual decorum they think most people would rather not bother with… Case in point, the Killian documents, submitted on 60 Minutes Wednesday (September 4, 2004) by then-host Dan Rather to impugn President Bush’s National Service Record. Blogger Charles Foster Johnson took a look at documents and realized that the typographical qualities—the leading, kerning, and superscripting—of the documents could not have been accomplished by any typewriter contemporaneous with Bush’s military service, c. 1973. Johnson created an animated .gif that plotted the scanned image of the Killian document over a Microsoft Word generated copy. The result? Don’t think for a moment that having a journalism degree makes you implicitly more diligent or thoughtful than the rest of humanity. I’d implore you to ask Dan Rather about this, but I’m fairly certain his answer would be a stalwart defense Killian document validity. Consider instead Mr. Rather’s relevance today.
Looking for something to do tonight? It's not too late. Get your freak on at the Best of Stones Live. General admission is $35. How better to end a day at Food & Wine than wondering whether it's real or just an excellent memory... Be at Belly Up at 10:00. Show starts at 10:30.
When Mick Ireland and his Merry Pranksters assumed office in Aspen after the last election, I of course assumed there would be some glaring glitches and growing pains.
Not in my wildest imagination did I believe that the current regime would all but run Aspen into the ground financially in just a few short months. No exaggeration, my friends. Under the stewardship of the Bath Party, Aspen has been brought to its knees, fiscally speaking, by a group of poobahs who pooh-pooh the value of the dollar even as they burn money faster than an open fire on the Cooper Avenue Mall.
I opened this morning’s edition of the GSPI to learn that we’re being overrun by wildlife. That’s right, wring your hands and run screaming into the night, there’s beavers eating trees in Noname and Grizzly Creek, and bears are eating llamas in Rifle. I tell you, I’ve lived here a long time, but I can’t remember the last time life here seemed so tenuous, so
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
I am having a difficult time deciding which presidential candidate would receive my vote come November, should I actually remember to vote. I think my problem is that I know very little about the candidates, other than the basics; white man; black man, white woman…Republican, Democrat, Democrat…war hero, dynamic speaker, wife of Bill…old as mummy dust, young and inexperienced, middle aged and somewhat bitchy, etc.
Ideally, I’d dedicate the time to read the most recent book written by each candidate in order to gain a better understanding of who they are as a person, but that would mean I would have to read three books, so, forget it.
I haven’t been sleeping much lately, which means I’ve spent countless hours in the hopeless darkness thinking of the most ridiculous things imaginable. The sleep deprived mind, I’ve learned, is not a sane mind.
Last night I could not stop thinking about a story I had read online. Two Houston teens, the story reported, were arrested for digging up a grave to make a pot pipe from a skull. The writer mentioned that he would love to hear the conversation that led to such a brilliant idea, so I figured I’d oblige him.
It’s all action-focused, forcefulness. I’ve changed a lot since then. There are so many different ways to go about being fulfilled. I grew up in a home with very competitive athletes. My sister is a professional windsurfer, my brother is on the U.S. Sailing team, an Olympic athlete. I didn’t perform at that level. So that’s all I knew. How to go about it all the way.
We post staffers were looking for something the mighty Jimbo might say to Michael to close out the fourth year of Con Games, something like "It's great to be a part of something so good that's lasted so long," but we found something even better:
