Listics

Was the woman with all the vowels Tish Grier?   bzzzt… no cigar

I did meet Tish, and a guy named Sam and perhaps a dozen other people to whom I mean no offense by my lack of magic eightballing their names and faces into my quickie post last night and again here this morning after the cocktail party with all those delicious little stuffed filo (phyllo?) wrapped ordure, served by a young gray eyed girl named Abigail, snarfed up by a fat old guy who thought "if this is dinner I’d better take two."  … that’s what mom used to call them… "ordure."  I always got a chuckle.

Are they still rioting in formerly nazi occupied france ce demain?  Just guessing but I think it’s a joint US/Jordanian black-ops field exercise against the common enemy.  Only room for one giant industrial plutocracy on the planet donchaknow. 

Is this item from Dave Farber’s elist, Interesting People, the world’s first blog post?

According to the Congressional Record, tomorrow is a little known and seldom celebrated US Holiday called RB Day.  It was on this day back in ‘47 I think, a time when Winnie Churchill had already dragged the Iron Curtain across the world stage, wrapped himself in it and begun prancing about all goth and nonsense, a time when Hollywood was on about "The Egg and I" and "A Double Life" and Bollywood was yet to be, November 12, 1947…  I’m guessing Gemini was rising because on that day the twins, RB and Chris Locke were born.

RB - in these parts that stands for Root Beer, and partner, not just ANY root beer, nosirree.  Free Range Root Beer, aged like the finest, the finest - well - Root Beer! 

It wasn’t that many years ago that I met Chris Locke.  We were both enrolled in Root Beer 101 at Free Range University.  Chris was trying to - I’m guessing here - get in touch with his roots?

[Illustration: A rare, full-grown wild white snow root beer. It’s a four-pointer and has a fully-developed snow mullet, which it will raise in self defense or when it’s particularly excited.}

Harry’s okay…

I was at the Copa.  Harry, whose "scratchings" have amused, inspired, intrigued, and otherwise affected me — always for the better, posted a somewhat dark picture of a couple entwined in full tango extension.  And he said it was a picture of me.  And I was very proud, honored to be so acknowledged.  Later in the week we heard a string quartet performance of a new composition by Viñao, "The Loss and the Silence."  The piece was starkly modern, or "postmodern" musically, but embracing the grand narrative threads of Tolkien’s work and hence not postmodern philosophically at all.  Thank god.  There were brief passages of Argentine music throughout and a hint of tango in the closing two or three bars.

Now Harry has gone, where we do not know.  The blog world is experiencing a loss and a silence.  A good long time ago I chided Harry lightly regarding his anonymity, and he answered back in a comment thread that he would be okay talking about that anonymity further with me.  I never took him up on that, and now I regret it.  Had I chivvied from him his identity, I could now inquire after him, call him on the phone, send him an email.  As it is, I miss his blog, and I’m worried about his sudden departure.  It’s a helpless feeling.  If you know where Harry is and how he’s doing, please let me know.

Harry… if you’re out there, let us all know what’s up.  Please.

Ronni at home.

TPop?  TPie?  T-lo?  Tony Pierce, then… the blogger working for Buzznet…

Stavros the Wonder Chicken’s back.  For the multimedialistic, this first post is available as a poultrycast.  Starts with the tinkling of cubes in the glass, the WC takes a belt and launches into the reading.  Shortly thereafter there’s the metallic clack of a zippo slammed shut.  Thanks to Shelley for the link.  Her newsfeed must have flipped "from that limp and dusty 0 over to an erectile 1."