More ... I Mean, Less About Me ... and Vegans

May 20, 2013:  Ah, my 164th Blah-ugh! post ... It seems like only yesterday I was doing my 163rd, and you can see where that got me ...

I actually encountered some very rude feedback about my Blah-ugh! recently from some militant vegans with poor spelling skills. It was disturbing, I can assure you, but in the end I resisted confrontation -- like Ghandi -- and instead, like Ghandi, made myself a hero sandwich with extra cheese.

When you're a public figure it's hard to not to take the periodic waves of criticism personally, especially since I'm feeling physically ugly these days. I know people who call me names like "egomaniac" and "geletinhead" don't really know anything about me (with the exception of Matt), so it would be silly for an intelligent, balanced mensch like myself to even let these nasty cabbage heads intrude upon my cloud. (NOTE: Speaking of mensches -- or mences -- I'm still meaning to do that Steven Spielberg post, now that I have the correct spelling on his name ... I just haven't gotten around to it. Perhaps the 167th post, if not the 166th. I don't think Spielberg is a vegan, but if he is, I intend to out him!)

Anyway, I was just in the shower, which as you might imagine is cause to wax thoughtful, especially when there's all this mold on the tiles. When I'm in the shower, I also tend to sing, and not even well, but I like to sing loudly because I imagine no one else can hear it, and it annoys the family, who don't even like it when I speak or show my face at the dinner table ... Anyway, I was singing something that reminded me how much I love Jefferson Airplane and The Inkspots, and not in any particular order, so I felt I should devote some time to outlining my love in a public forum (like some kind of pervert) ... but I'm not going to now. (Perhaps in my 168th post.)

What I do want to do now is share a bit about what's going on in the world -- my world, that is, which is the world, and I'm not saying that to be self-centered, it's just that it's the only world I've got, or at least the only one that'll have me, and allow me the space to pretend to be an opera singer. You see, things are bouncing around in all directions, as they tend to do when you don't take your Lithium -- or subscribe to vegan principles -- and the well of worthwhile observations seems poised to be .. well, observed! (Man, that italics feature is just doing all the work tonight. Sweet!)

Wait, wait! Don't go yet! I'll make some point, or get something out worth reading ... Just ... give me ... a ... minute ....

ITEM: Just watched "Election" last night and I really love that movie. I always feel that Matthew Broderick is really kind of an angry person based on my perceptions of his photographs, but he really was made for this part. And Reese Witherspoon and her mammoth chin just steal the show, though not necessarily in that order. Best of all is this kid who plays Paul, who's running against the notorious Tracy Flick. He's great -- kind of a mutant Little Rascal grown up. One day I'll look his name up and include it here, unless I get a nasty note from Broderick and have to rescind this whole entry. (I'm convinced he's vegan, btw.)

ITEM: My daughter and I made an awesome red velvet cake last night, except it isn't red. This might disturb some people, but we expected it would turn out as is. It's delicious, and in fact the three pieces I've had today were better than yesterday's slice. (I can't wait until tomorrow.)

ITEM: Speaking of my daughter, her softball team -- which I manage -- had its first win Thursday. It was a glorious event, and while I wasn't really in any way responsible for the victory, I made it clear to the girls that I was. (I figured they shouldn't get too arrogant, and as I'm already arrogant, it wouldn't matter so much.) We celebrated with vegan pizza.

ITEM: I'm convinced the National Security Council has begun monitoring this Blah-ugh! -- or my brain, or possibly both. This because I picked up a copy of The Catcher in the Rye someone left atop the gun locker and ... No, no. See, I kid. (I actually keep my gun under my pillow, where I can reach it quickly if a spy comes in the window when I'm making love ... or a vegan.) Anyway, the reference to the red hunting cap made me nervous, so I tried to read faster, because I'm sure that by reading the book I'm inviting questions about my Americanism and my morality and god-knows-what-else ... Then, around page seventy-something -- I won't claim to know the actual number -- I noticed that certain letters on the left side of the page began to form messages ... Now, you're maybe going to think I'm crazy, but there was clearly a progression of letters that included a "C," an "I," and an "A," although I don't think they were in that order ... You see where I'm going with this. And while you may be wondering why the CIA isn't keeping the tabs, it's because they're involved with international chicanery ... I mean, alleged chicanery ... Alleged! That's what I meant ...

ITEM: If you rearrange the letters in "vegan," it spells "N - AGE - V," which stands for "New Age Virus," which is a clear indication that something much more radical is going on with veganism than with my bedtime book reading. "Vegan" is also suspiciously close to "Vegas," which is a suspicious place surprisingly close to the Hoover Dam, which as we all know generates a significant amount of power -- or what the Indians called "Pow-wower" ... You see where I'm going with this ...

ITEM: It's time for another movie and some more vegan red velvet cake ...

Michael Enders Made My Day ... (and Of Course Sue Too!)

September 9, 2012:  I'm not sure who Michael Enders is, exactly -- and I certainly hope we're not old friends or something -- but he really just made my evening complete. You see, because I DON'T know who he is, and yet he was scrumptious enough to actually respond to my stupid Blah-ugh!, I am just overjoyed and am now motivating myself to write another one of these stupid entries ...

Thank you, Michael Enders -- or CURSE you, as I'm sure some readers are thinking -- those of you who keep waiting for me to die, keep hoping this will be the LAST entry and that you can chuckle your disconcerting snortle and say, "See! I knew he'd eventually die an evil death owing to his overt anti-everything-ism ... Dirty bastard!"

Anyway, enough about Michael Enders. I don't know who the hell he is or what he wants from me, except he seemed to have some interesting insights, or he made a good joke or something. I don't even remember now. I just want you all to love him as much as I do at this moment, or did in the last moment ...

Okay, so, the next issue is WHY I got hit in the eye so much today. It's very odd. My left eye in particular. The first time was at my daughter's softball practice this afternoon, and let me tell you this big gold-yellow ball skipped right off the homeplate and shot right into my left prescription sunglass. "Ouch!" I said, and then proceeded to vehemently posture this way and that to make it clear I was hurt. (No one seemed that concerned, so I just stopped.)

Then, as if this wasn't enough abuse, I got a splash of this new clumping cat litter in that very same eye later this night. I mean, the coincidence was maddening. And imagine my shocked disappointed pissed-offedness when, after FINALLY buying the "clumping" kind of litter instead of the cheapest generic clay brand, which quickly turns into ammonia and very well may have burned my lungs out from cleaning it -- and god knows what it's doing to those stupid cats -- I finally, FINALLY get this expensive box of clumping crap ... And here I am opening -- struggling to open -- this stupid fancy-schmancy designer box, having to push in this stupid fancy-schmancy opening, when POP!!! A veritable hailstorm of tiny rocks shoots out of that opening like so many asteroids bound for a doomed and endangered planet -- earth possibly, or Krypton.

I worry about my eyes, now and again anyway. I like my eyes, even though I have froglike lids and my eyebrows have been deforming in later life ...

The point is, I WILL be appearing at the New Haven Public Library on Thursday, I think at 6pm, to talk about SPACE CASE and e-publishing and e-publishing SPACE CASE, and why it has so many typos, and why my eyebrows look so funny these days ...

The irony is that I think it's actually called the New Haven "Free" Library, and yet you're going to be charged an admission price if you come. Come if you can, but be ready to pay, and perhaps more than with your life, which I won't refund, no matter how much you try to sweet talk me ...

Stick with me, folks! I'll have you regretting your Internet connection in no time ...