Friday night tangents . . .

Sitting and watching the presidential debate, a drinking game seems ripe for the creation. How about, every time someone says "fundamental" a drink is taken. Every time McCain calls himself the anti- "Miss Congeniality," another drink is taken. For every smirk, take a drink. Every time the moderator (in tonight's case, Jim Lehrer) reminds the candidates to address each other, take a drink. Better yet, scrap this idea. You'd be drunk before the end of the first 9 minute segment.

Today was the first day of rain in at least a week and a half or longer, and yet I already wish it would end. Why does that happen?

Can Rolling Stone still be considered a viable source for music criticism? I'm pretty sure they've started taking CDs and are just tossing them up the stairs to decide on star ratings. Highest stair gets 5 stars. Lowest gets 1. That's the only way I can understand how the new Jessica Simpson disk (hey, I couldn't do pop, so let's try country!) scored the same number of stars as Okkervil River (don't know them? Google the song "A Girl In Port." Absolutely killer). Or, how Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers scored equal or better recent reviews than Lou Reed, Fela Kuti, and Elton John. Why is Rolling Stone reviewing these fad albums? Is the new age demographic for the magazine girls 10 - 14? Wait, does Disney own them now, along with everything else? Instead of classic journalism like Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas gracing the pages of RS, should we now expect a continuing series written by a Jonas telling us about a bender on Space Mountain? Time will tell . . .

Actually, now that I'm sitting in the other room, all I can hear from the debate is the slight whistle every time John McCain speaks. He sounds like an old prospector. Maybe he's telling us about gold! Aw, if he is, Obama doesn't seem interested. Guess I should go back in and pay closer attention. You know, just in case McCain IS talking about where we can find gold. 

Until later, I'm signing off.