At-ten-TION!

Yeah, I'm not in the military, but I always want to say that. That or the shortened form, ten-hut. In fact, I have said it several times, but it's always inappropriate and indifferently received. I just want someone to snap straight turn around and salute. Just once. Then they can do it back to me and I'll salute. Like a game you play when you're six.

Not sure why I have such a fondness for military roleplaying. I think it might have something to do with the three or four years of roleplaying a doctor in Starfleet (from Star Trek). I ingrained in myself then that I was a lieutenant aboard whichever ship I happened to be on, and that I was a badass that could heal and kill. Like, really well. There's also the whole Battlestar Galactica thing, which is much more adult and sans the roleplaying, but still generally the same idea.

So I guess the question must be asked: why sci-fi military? Why not something awesome and historicalish like M*A*S*H? Or Band of Brothers? I guess I'm just a huge nerd.

Nothing quite like hunting peasants

If only we actually went peasant hunting.

Sadly, we simply had a dinner and dessert together, we merry band of British MPs from the 1530s. It was quite lovely, and my classmates are very entertaining and intelligent people. The weirdest part about that evening was to find out that Lucas, whom I presumed to be a devout Catholic, was actually a quasi-devout Episcopalian (or, as a non-American would say it, Anglican). It was maddening because all this time I'd assumed that he was playing well outside of his comfort zone since his character is a pronounced Anglican in the game. He just seemed so Catholic, damn it.

But yes, I quite enjoyed myself even though it meant I got no work done last night. I don't socialize nearly enough to remotely approach regretting this.

In other non-trivial news, I'm somewhat upset because the shade of purple from my new purple hoodie doesn't quite match the shade on my purple Chuck Taylor All Stars. That's just a bitch. I still feel like a male bird, though, prominently displaying vivid colors, puffin' out my chest and shit. Yeah.

Hasta la byebye, dears. I'll see you soon.

I know this will sound weird, but do you have a long, disposable object?

Thank God I happened to have a non-writing pen handy, otherwise I have no idea what I would have done five minutes ago. Last night I actually tried to go, but I just couldn't successfully do the deed. It was awful. But now I feel a profound sense of happiness.

Later tonight the folks from my Henry VIII class will be having a dinner at the Lord Chancellor's place. Wait, you say, I thought you were the Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas More! Ah, but you see, there have been new developments. At the end of Parliament on Tuesday a snap no-confidence vote was called against me. I mistakenly assumed that my supporters had enough influence to defeat the measure, and so I didn't filibuster. But obviously my opponents knew what they were doing, and they secured enough influence to win the vote 43-42. There was no historical precedent for the no-confidence vote, but His Majesty decided it would be best if I resigned anyway, so Thomas More is no longer in Parliament, and our new Lord Chancellor is the former Speaker for the House of Commons, Thomas Audley, whose house I shall be visiting this evening.

Just in case you were curious, I am now playing the role of Lord Darcy of Darcy. I will occasionally play the role of swing-vote since my motivations are at once traditionalist, pro-nobility and pro-self-advancement.

And once again, Thank God for that non-writing pen.

I'm 21 years old

Yet I can't grow anything remotely close to a full beard. And my chest? It's populated by a sparse forest of wiry hairs surrounded by soft, comfortable, wussy hairs. What gives? I'm a Turk, damn it.

My fear of urinals

Unpleasant, inconvenient and somewhat embarrassing. But also something that made me feel somehow more civilized because, you know, real gentlemen sit down when they pee (or at least give themselves the opportunity to bare their buttocks).

I use the past tense because a couple of months ago I dropped my aversion to urinals. I just decided not to let it bother me and now I pee like most other males: openly. It's certainly a good deal faster than bothering with stalls, and it makes for less awkwardness when no stalls are available, but I feel like I've lost a part of my soul. There was something good about not liking urinals. Alas.

I said Texas votes on March 6th?

Really? That's just embarrassing. I am tempted to go right now and edit the previous post so that no one ever notices the error. But, owing to my policy of not editing unless I have to, even allowing blatant untruths to linger, I've decided to point it out and print a retraction. As though that makes sense on an internet blog. Eh.

So Barack Obama is looking pretty good. The leftish tilt always has been and always will be bothersome, and the clear lack of detail behind the message of hope is quite concerning. Nonetheless he has, and has had, my favor among all non-Bloomberg candidates for several months now (ever since I realized that robo-Romney had definitively abandoned the social liberalism that I admired and adopted a foreign policy that made me queasy). Indeed, even though I have no idea how Obama will deliver us unto prancing unicornland, the strength of purpose that he seems to possess is extremely encouraging, and he gives off a very reassuring feeling that he'll attempt to do everything in good conscience while toeing the pragmatist line.

And he seems to have an edge--for now--over Clinton in general election polling, which I would have tentatively predicted yet hardly believed months ago when I argued that Obama could overcome those who held racial prejudices by winning over people who were just straight-up impressed with the man.

But of course I still love my Bloomberg, and I've even put my name out there on Meetup.com in case someone's crazy enough to want to organize his Austin area supporters. So far we number three. Exciting.

Much as I hate to take this opportunity to hawk my candidate, it would be really cool if you guys checked him out and signed a completely non-binding petition (you're free to vote however you wish in any and all elections) that would encourage him to enter the presidential race, thus increasing our choices from two to three. Hurray!

Hope you enjoyed that excessively well-written schtick. Good night, folks.

Like hope, but different

I stole this from Democracy in America, my favorite of The Economist's blogs (which is occasionally frequented by Julian Sanchez, who is just so dreamy, you know). It's a spoof on the Yes I Can video that's so popular on YouTube. I am tremendously happy for its existence.



There are numerous other things that I can say and want to say, but sadly I am feeling just a touch too lethargic to start writing about the many things that comprise my life. But allow me to propose a toast! To Saint Thomas More, fairest and most just man of the bar, author of Utopia, revolutionary humanist intellectual, martyrer of Protestants in the realm at the behest of His Majesty, King Henry VIII, and martyr himself of the Catholic faith, also at the behest of His Majesty, King Henry VIII. Your life was just too fucked up not to love.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to grab a bite and a cup of joe. I have a long night ahead of me. Hasta la byebye, dears.

YES!

If you have a couple of minutes free, I encourage you to click the link in the title of this entry. Most awesome thing ever.

A Merry Super Tuesday to you all!

Today is an awkward day for me, because I hope with half my heart for Obama to surge past Clinton in the numerous primaries being held today while McCain wipes Romney off his shoe, but simultaneously the other half of my heart wants to see Clinton and Romney take the day. Why, you ask?

Michael Bloomberg, baby.

I wasn't kidding when I endorsed him many months ago, but I also know well that he has hardly a prayer against Obama, beacon of hope, and McCain, scrupled man of conscience if he's running as the non-partisan candidate who will fix Washington, which seems to be his campaign theme. On the other hand, if it's the battle of robot candidates that many people seem to actively dislike, there's a lot more room for Bloomberg to saunter in and gobble votes. So, you know,

Why support Bloomberg in the first place, you ask? Naturally I've been in contact with his nascent campaign organization from day one, and in return for my support I expect a position in Bloomberg's government were he elected. Specifically, I'm slated to receive a seat on the White House Council of Economic Advisors.

And while that's obviously untrue, pretending that it wasn't even for a second was really fun.

Jennifer Louise

I still haven't listened to Of Montreal's Adhils Arboretum enough to say much about it, but I am a big fan of thematic albums, and the execution is very good, though I worry that some of the songs start sounding alike (but then, with thematic albums, that's not necessarily a fault). Jennifer Louise is a particularly nice song, though it doesn't exactly fit in with the theme. What's the theme, by the way? Something about old people or old peoplish things. Leave me alone. I'm not lucid.

Tomorrow I begin my life as Sir Thomas More and swear off private property here and forever. Alas.

Quoted for truth

Link.

The Economist and I have been saying it for two years now, but it bears repeating. I exhort all parties involved to pull their heads out of their asses. To save most of you some time, the link takes you to an article about the Gaza Strip and Hamas.

Weird things...

So, I'm sitting in the computer lab in the FAC, trying to see if my hoodies on eBay are going to sell for prices above $5 (search "special blend hoodie" before Saturday evening if you're interested), when suddenly I hear this child of indeterminate gender babbling away. Strange, I thought, I've never seen anyone bring kids in here before. Oh well. So the kid kept talking about something that I couldn't quite make out for another minute or two, by which time curiosity compelled me to turn around.

There was no child. There was, however, a brown girl a row behind me on a cellular phone. And lo, though I couldn't see her mouth, it became abundantly clear that she was the source of this child's voice. What a horrible, horrible existence it must be to sound like that. Eugh.

I also saw my first ever 2008 campaign ad, from Barack Obama, on Texas television yesterday, during the lead-up to the California Democratic debate that I didn't watch. Exciting that our state, which votes on March 6th, apparently merits enough attention for the Obama campaign to spend some of its fortune on advertising here. Yippie!

And that's it. Just thought I'd give you some fluff. You know.