Weekend Roundup

I took my eight year-old nephew Ishmael for a walk around town so we could do Important Man Stuff. But there was one long section of road that did not have any cool motorcycles, Lego stores, backbreaking cracked sidewalks, or bugs. So I asked him if he wanted to listen to my mp3 player, and he said yes. He seemed to be intently listening to the music as we walked, and occasionally various body parts would jerk around in some semblance of a beat. So I asked him to let me hear what he was listening to:

Those who died are justified, for wearing the badge, they're the chosen whites
You justify those that died by wearing the badge, they're the chosen whites

Oops. No wonder he won't do what I tell him.

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I like Ringring a lot more than Pucca. When Ringring unleashes her kungfu, and her face turns red like a Beijing Opera mask, and her hair flies out in all directions, and her voice uproots trees and flattens buildings, that is *exactly* what my wife looks like when I come home drunk.


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Things that Would Make the 19 Year-Old Me Punch the 42 Year-Old Me in the Throat, Part CXVII:

I was pleased to see that they now have canned beets in Carrefour.