Seeing as how it's friday night, i'm in New Orleans, and i'm sitting in my hotel room, I thought I should write about ridiculous things for this ridiculous situation (you can only spend so much time wandering bourbon street on your own before you descend into a sordid spiral of filth; as cool as a bunch of statisticians, economists, and fisheries scientists can be...and they can...they certainly aren't cool at late hours).

So here goes:
It seems there was a chicken that got it's head cut off in the forties and lived without this usually vital appendage for 18 months. The creative folks in Colorado christened him Mike the Headless Chicken. After a change of heart, his owner decided that feasting on Mike after slaughtering him with an axe was a mean-spirited idea, so he dedicated himself to feeding and watering him with a syringe, allowing him to triple his weight and then some. Hmmmm, maybe a bit sketchy? Maybe not. The axe blade missed his jugular vein, and a blood clot ensured that the rooster retained enough blood to survive. Also, the axe landed high in his neck which left most of the brain stem intact. Mike received his due praise when Life and Time magazines both wrote stories about the phenom, and Guinness World Records later honored him as the "Longest Surving Headless Chicken". I mean, if Guinness says so...

Side note, i'm an idiot and didn't know that a rooster was an adult male chicken. Is this common knowledge? probably.

Also, it does rain more on weekends, atleast in the northeastern United States. Yet another reason to stop driving gas guzzling SUV's. Then again, I'm sure people are just doing it to temper the hurricanes.

Something good

After the brutal yet ,sadly, unsurprising attacks in London yesterday, it's a natural next step to search for uplifting signs. The tired black-and-white Bushian rhetoric, even Tony Blair's eloquent and oft impassioned messages, didn't do much to offer inspiration. Instead, I found the stories from the ground to be most moving. USA Today ran this article detailing how droves of bloggers recounted their personal experiences and used the blog as a vehicle to relay their status to friends and family. Again, i find myself exhilerated to see how so many different people have both access and motivation to voice their stories. I think this is just on more telling example of how powerful this medium, and others like it, can be.

On another note, a sense of anxiety hung over much of New Orleans today. They just released the public announcement at 4 pm today that the city will not be evacuated yet. if the storm takes a last minute western veer, we might be hangin' out in cajun' country another day or two. Luckily happy hour has arrived the quelm those fears and propel sensible people to nonsensical calm. Judging by the latest forecast, NO rests well to the west of the eye and should only experience peripheral effects. I talked to a few people at our meeting today who live on the islands along the Florida and Alabama gulf coast. They're still struggling to piece their lives together from Ivan last year and now look down the throat of another major hurricane that threatens to annhialate their communities once again. i feel bad for these people and really hope the trip over the Gulf doesn't allow enough time for the storm to maintain high 4 or even category 5 potential.

I'm off to be nonsensical in that work-related-dinner-yet-still-hanging-out-in-new-orleans type way.

the scariest thing is the grandfather clock in the lobby

i know everybody out there has been worried sick about my safety and security down here in the Big Easy, so let me just assure everyone it's okay. i cannot bear to hear another heart wrenching tale of friends gathered in commemoration, holding hands and singing gentle odes to my memory. i cannot stomach the thought of sobbing, lonely bodies...broken and battered as they sob with their heads hung dejectedly in between shaking knees. let the trumpets blow and the choirs of angels rejoice, and.....
....okay, i'll stop.
anyways, new orleans is completely fine. according to the cab driver, they received a little rain and a battering by the wind yesterday, but the tropical storm was long gone by the time we arrived. what's funny is that dc will probably get the remnants while I sip dollar brews on bourbon (ha, ha). the real worry is denis in the gulf. should be interesting.

also, my girlfriend, kristy, is famous because she was at the district court in dc taking care of the paperwork for this huge acquisition before rushing back to the justice department to help with press releases (although never trust her drink recommendations...mint juleps should be banished from the planet)

sevenslashfourslashzerofive

A warzone of sorts on the National Mall where hordes braved security checkpoints to scope the show. The ever-lurking nastiness of DC's summer abated momentarily this weekend, allowing for a bunch of people crammed together like sardines in a tiny tin box (thank you, mr. yorke) to remain relatively unexasperated.



The Washington monument weathered a deluge of fireworks exploding in its midst. A cacophony of echoing explosions off the federal buildings to the north redoubled the relentless, deafening blasts. I have to admit, the show was pretty impressive from the Mall. Plus, I felt relieved to discover that I wasn't the only one making wise cracks about the phallic symbol's failure to use protection. C'mon, it was way too easy.

Tropical Storm, Tropical Shmorm...

"I've got an idea, let's fly to New Orleans!"
"Great idea, Phil. Tell you what, you fly first and we'll be right behind you [snicker, snicker...snort, snort]."
"That's cool, guys. I'll fly tomorrow and just meet you down there."
[Aside] "Oh my god. The idiot bought it. Let's get outta here." [To nimrod Long] "Uhhh, right on man. See you there."[Sounds of disappearing running shoes on gravel]

my backyard

I experienced a side of Washington DC last night that endeared itself to me immediately. An overindulgence in unemployment last fall enabled me to explore most of the more notable sights in the area within a relatively short amount of time. It took a visit this week from my family, however, to reveal an obvious, yet strangely undiscovered fact about memorial-land DC: it's so much cooler at night.

Amid earsplitting thunder and downpouring rain, we made our way down to the National Mall last night and visited a couple of the memorials/monuments under cloak of darkness. As the rain puttered out, we found ourselves essentially alone to drink in the sights.

I tepidly praise the WWII memorial whenever asked about it by friends. During the day, I find it noble, yet bland; impressive as an idea, yet slightly neo-fascist (ugh!) by design. Furthermore, I think it struggles to distinguish itself as it sprawls as a shallow saucer across the mall. Upon nightfall, however, the lighting serves to transform the memorial into something more elegant. It feels like a distinct unit on the mall, instead of awkwardly bleeding into the surrounding grass as it does during the day. With a fresh rain upon the stones, the water fountains glistenened and cast a shimmering glow about the perimeter that made me feel like i was in giant fishbowl. The atmosphere embedded itself in my memory.






After the WWII memorial, we made our way to the Roosevelt Memorial. Although the cenotaph impressed me for its approachability and unique design the other times i've ventured that way, nothing compares to a night stroll through the meandering stones. This memorial doesn't seek to awe the visitor with towering statues, instead, most of the human figures stand life-size and accessible to hordes of seventh-grade groping hands...or 25 year old hands, for that matter. it felt like walking through a garden where each person could appease their own aesthetic palate with something enticing. Besides the occasional 747 roaring above, it was almost easy to forget that city trains and concrete melees teem just over the river or behind the trees...peace of mind in an unexpected spot.

free stuff promoting not-so-free stuff

For anybody that hasn't visited their local Starbuck's yet this morning (Fascists), go quick because they're giving away free ice cream. Today and only today. Considering Starbuck's has crept into the darkest corners of the planet (9,000 stores worldwide with long term plans for 20,000), and i'm not aware of anybody in rural Tajikistan who reads my blog, i'm guessing 100% of you can make yourselves real-happy-like soon. Furthermore, it won't drive you into the broke house because, well, it's free. By the way, anybody that buys coffee consistently should definitely follow that hyperlink and read the article. But if you're too lazy, here's a page (refered to in the article) where you can figure out how much of your hard-earned (or hard-borrowed) fortune drains away into the commercial coffee shop coffers compared to the relative pittance required for office battery-acid brew.

K-Higgity's research proved instrumental in completing this story.

only sometimes

sometimes they make me work. sometimes they make me work a whole bunch. only sometimes. i'm off to the spy museum. is anybody else's life insane right now? should i make business cards for my blog? do you think any librarians are ninjas? okay, bye.

the joys of humidity

So two people walked up to my cubicle this morning and told me outright that I look tired. What the hell! Although my week/month/life has been moderately insane lately, nothing of catastrophic import happened in the last day or two (although I did miss the Ted Leo show at the 9:30 Club…you can read my buddy Jake’s take on the show here) that might render me a tattered and torn person. Not that I really care if people at work think I look tired-I’ve been known to sport the same shirt two, maybe three times in a five day work week…hence,I don’t have much of an image to maintain-but I found it odd that two different people said the same unusual thing, completely unsolicited (a conspiracy, perhaps?).
Curiosity piqued, I stole away to my favorite bathroom, slightly off the beaten track, where many a crossword puzzle has fallen victim to my lack of concentration on work-oriented tasks. The visage facing me in the mirror made that kid in The Ring look like Winnie the Pooh. It wasn’t that I looked tired (atleast in my unbiased opinion), it was that I had bangs! Oh god, memories of my sister’s seventh grade picture came flooding back and pangs of forgotten buckteeth assaulted my senses. They were so perfect too, as though I’d developed an uncanny proficiency with the curling iron after years of dedicated study.
So is it the bangs that made me look tired? I’m thinking so. I’m guessing the first think people think about when they see bangs is a strung out rocker chick in a def leppard video. They did tend to look tired. But they looked damn good in their strung out glory. So although nobody appended the “…but you look good” to their “Phil, you look tired”, I’m pretty sure they were thinking it. I do cut a striking figure in neon pink.

On another note, it’s funny to watch congressmen (and an occasional congresswoman) play baseball. I hope they had plenty of medical personnel available, because I think the arms might leave the sockets before the ball leaves the hand.

Finally, I don't think I have a sizeable cadre of tech savvy bloggers reading my blog, but if anybody knows how to work with the blogger comments coding, please let me know. i've been trying to make my comment section organized in threads for awhile, but i can't figure out how to access the html. Any ideas?

THE NEXT STEP: YOUR EARZZZZZZZZ