The Diary of A Simple Man

If you weren't born in the mid-1960s, it might not be possible for you to understand. But for a while, American culture was truly...different.

Example: this full-length episode of Lidsville, by Sid and Marty Kroft.

When you see Charles Nelson Reilly dressed up as Slutty Bunny, mating with Raunchy Rabbit, you'll know that you've entered an alternate reality. Nonetheless, it's safe for work - unless your boss objects to psychedelia.

Sebastian watched it with me tonight on YouTube. I don't remember seeing it before. I stared, aghast? amazed? stunned? as Sebastian laughed himself into hysteria.

A few other Sebastian notes: It has been a month or so since we gave up putting the safety gate up at the top of the stairs at night. It was time.

He went to an exhibition called "Mad Science" at our local library a few weeks ago. It was awesome! Not schticky, as I feared. The guy was funny, had some cool experiments, and really explained about science. The kids absolutely loved it, and so did the parents. I've never heard so much cheering and applause at the library - it was amazing.

Lastly, Teri bought Sebastian a new set of Superboy pajamas, complete with cape. Unlike his previous one this one isn't a proper replica of the actual Superman/Superboy costume, but Sebastian loved it anyway. Here's a photo:



I don't know if she'll see it way down here, but happy birthday, zarhooie! Although I'm sure you'll have one whether I wish it or not. Still, every little bit helps - right?

Saw a guy wearing an Australian/cowboy hat standing on a street corner in downtown Franklin, MA today. He was holding a large sign that said:



I wonder what that was about?

Late this afternoon around 5:30 or so, Teri and I noticed the damnedest thing. The light outside was bright yellow, in a totally unnatural-seeming way. It was almost brassy.

Last night we had an astonishingly violent and noisy thunderstorm, so now we're wondering whether we'll have another tonight. We lost power that night, incidentally; Sebastian woke up and fussed a little about the noise, but wasn't too upset overall.

Answered a 20-minute phone survey from the Center for Disease Control this afternoon. They surprised me when they asked how often we go to church. What does that have to do with disease prevention? I wonder if the Bush people have been tinkering with the CDC mission and politicizing the bureaucracy. Wouldn't surprise me.

On the way home tonight, my train stopped at Walpole. Everyone was ordered to pick up their belongings and get off the train while the police searched it with dogs. It was cold as hell, so no one was pleased about that.

We stood around while police with dogs searched the train, went through the crowd, and inspected the undercarriage of the train. It was cold, cold, cold.

For quite a while no one told us anything, but finally a conductor told some of us that there had been ten bomb-like devices found in the area, and that possibly some threats had been phoned in. Five of the devices had turned out to be hoaxes, but they were still checking the rest. The whole goddamned thing seemed surreal. All the passengers (and there were a lot of us, it was a full train) gossiped and bitched about the situation. One guy near me didn't even have a decent coat on; he was freezing.

There was a TV crew and reporter down the platform. I noticed that the dog was a big brown one, very friendly-looking; its tail was wagging like mad. That kind of ruined the Gestapo feeling I'd been working up (as it happens, I'm reading The Great Escape right now). At one point the dog came right up to me, and I was momentarily imagining that the cops would think I had a bomb...but it kept going.

I called Teri, told her what was going on, and said I'd call her back once I knew more. After about fifteen minutes I called her back, and loudly said "Hi honey! They just started the strip searches, and..." which got a big laugh from the crowd. At that moment the police let us get back on the train. So all in all we spent about twenty minutes standing in the freezing cold.

Turns out that it was some sort of promotional thing for Aqua Teen Hunger Force, a show I sometimes watch. Turner Broadcasting, the company responsible for it, have apologized. But there's no email address on their contact page, and somehow I suspect that's a new development.

To my amazement, the journal of one - and only one! - person on my friends list is now being blocked by the censoring software that my company uses.

It's nakedfaery.

Weird, huh?

Wait, I just figured it out - I'll bet it's because of the "naked". Argh...that's so stupid!

I hate nannyware.

Offal. I had lunch today at a place that had "Plate of Offal" on the menu.

Really. And it wasn't a joke.

It was a company lunch at "Eastern Standard" in Kenmore Square. Very fancy, somewhat expensive. And they had offal on the menu.

I had to ask.

"It's made from the parts of the animals that people don't normally use," said the waiter, "like brains."

I considered ordering the meatloaf, but it seemed to me that "meat" in that context could include offal. So I stuck with the pasta.

Damn, my dreams can get strange. Particularly lately. This morning I dreamed that Homer Simpson was knocked up into the air, ending up stuck behind the jet of a large jet plane. A creature something like the gremlin in the The Twilight Zone was dancing around on the roof of the plane, except that it didn't look anything like a gremlin; it was more like a flesh-colored blob with an evil cartoon face.

It kept turning up the fire from the jet and burning Homer to cinders. Finally it reversed the jet for a minute, sucking Homer in and grinding him into ashes. The ashes spewed out of the engine and down into the ocean, reforming into a tattered Homer on the way down. As he splashed down, he just missed hitting a huge ocean liner...but the plane didn't. It sliced through the ship, dividing it neatly in half. The halves rapidly proceeded to sink, along with the plane, creating a massive whirlpool. Passengers screamed in terror. As Homer was sucked into the funnel, sharks cruised in and ripped him apart.

Damn, my dreams can get strange.

I want to know: why would someone cover a toilet seat with toilet paper, and then walk off and LEAVE the toilet paper there?

I mean, I understand why they'd put down the toilet paper, although there were perfectly good disposable seat covers available. But why, having presumably used the facility, would that person leave the toilet paper in place?

I mean, what were they thinking? Did they think that the next person to use that toilet would be delighted by an unexpected gift?

It would have taken less than half a second to sweep that paper into the toilet where it belonged. But they didn't bother.

I swear...sometimes I just don't understand people.

This is the creepiest article I have read in many years.

Men, you're not going to like this one. I'm still shuddering.