It's getting closer. The appraiser was supposed to hand in her report today, so hopefully we'll hear something tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll also be following up on home insurance and . . . something else ACT! will remind me of in the morning.
As for today, we took the kids to school, Carole went down to Harry Hines hunting for fabric to match the top she already made for Anita's mother-of-the-bride dress, and I drove to Paris for a couple of jobs. (After a job in Carrollton.) Carole found the fabric, fortunately, and Anita smiled on it. Good good. The kids elected to sleep here, though Alexander made noises about wanting to go to Daddy's. I finished Photowalk stuff, fixed spaghetti and meatballs, we finished watching the surprisingly thoughtful (no, really) Bubba Ho-Tep, labeled and FTP'd the Photowalk stuff, then respectively messed around on the Net. I wish I didn't have to wait till midnight to start catching up on the news and commentary of the day, but as yet I haven't discovered much of a way around it.
On that score, however (advance pun intended), I see Natalie Maines opened her mouth again outside of a song. Always a danger. And I see she's as much of a punk as she ever was. She says now she retracts the apology she gave for her disrepectful remark about the president back in '03. Now she says he deserves no respect whatsoever. Well knock me down with a feather. Natalie never got and still doesn't that free speech cuts both ways; if you dis your audience, either directly or indirectly as she did here, don't be surprised when they react negatively to it. She's always played herself up as some brave martyr when in fact she's just a rude, dense punk.
What I've long hoped, however, is that she caught some flak from Martie and Emily, assuming that they surely didn't share Natalie's loopy liberalism. Not so, I see. In fact, Martie, my favorite (et tu, Martie?), rivals her in idiocy with this: "'I'd rather have a small following of really cool people who get it, who will grow with us as we grow and are fans for life, than people that have us in their five-disc changer with Reba McEntire and Toby Keith,' Maguire said. 'We don't want those kinds of fans. They limit what you can do.'" I'm sure she felt exactly that way when they were setting sales records, selling out arenas all over, and racking up Grammy's left and right. I'm sure she was thinking then, "Y'know, what'd really be cool is if most of these people went away and didn't buy our music." Well, Martie, you don't have to worry about it now. The three of you misread your public and now you're having to make up transparently fake rationalizations for it. What a fall, and what a shame. At least you make good music. Or used to. I haven't heard the new album yet . . . .
On a less serious note, it's a little harder to take stories about the near-impossibility of escaping from the infamous Alcatraz when you see a headline like "Boy Swims from Alcatraz to San Francisco." I mean, it makes it a lot harder to take Clint Eastwood seriously, squintingly trying to Escape from Alcatraz, when apparently it's kid's stuff.
Much too late to be awake. But I blogged, goshdarnit!
No comments:
Post a Comment