Happy New Year to All Y'all

2004 hasn't been my favorite year.
This year, I fell out of love, lost my biggest client, and watched a slim majority of American voters prove they were either total imbeciles, or just not paying attention.
I got a cell phone in 2004, something I had promised myself I would never do.
I finally got my own magazine column in September and the response had been great. Then I heard this month the new magazine hadn't met it's projected ad revenues and was ceasing publication next month.
2005 promises to be a far better year.
I have started illustrating a children's book for this cool faggot out of Oregon. He likes my art and I like his writing.
I've been hired to ghostwrite a novel for a psychic who works with police to catch criminals.
Someone I met recently wants to hire me to do custom trim painting on homes she renovates.
Another magazine has hired me to do articles on local happenings.
The chairman of the local Stonewall Democrats has invited me to join his crew of pissed off, queer Democrats.

Tonight I am attending the grand closing of the Candlelight Coffee House, a hangout I have considered my own for 10 years. The owners have sold it to a couple of gay guys, so I hope they keep it the same.
Then there's a party a few blocks from my house, where I'll probably finish out the evening.

Yep. I am planning to have a sensational 2005.
Hope you do, too.
What are your plans for tonight?

Hey, I know! Let's Put on a Show, Everybody!

I received an interesting e-mail today, urging a total boycott on consumer spending the day of Bush's inauguration.
With some minimal preplanning, I could last a whole day without spending a cent, couldn't you?
What do you think?

Wahhh, Lennie Brisco is Dead

I heard on the news actor Jerry Orbach died today of prostate cancer. He was the saggy-faced, wise cracking detective on Law and Order.
I didn't like him much when I first started watching L&O, but his character grew on me.
Too bad he couldn't hold out a few more days and get to another year.
This was sort of a banner year for celebrity deaths.
Just offhand, I can think of Ronald Reagan, Rodney Dangerfield, Fay Wray, Christopher Reeve, Julia Child, Rick James, Marlon Brando, Ray Charles, Weezie Jefferson, Tony Randall, Spaulding Gray, Captain Kangaroo... and now Jerry Orbach.
:(

Happy Kwanzaa

Okay, call me a skeptical old geezer, but I started looking into this holiday recently when I realized I hadn't heard a thing about it when I was little.
It turns out it's relatively new, thought up by a cat named Dr. Maulana Karenga back in 1966. Based on African culture, the holiday's origin centers on the Zulu first-fruit celebration, which is supposed to last a week and occurs as one year ends and another begins.
Kwanzaa has caught on all over the world, according to Karenga, but I can't say I know anyone who actually celebrates it.
All the African Americans I know are Christians, so I have never seen Kwanzaa celebrated. I wonder, do they get presents? What's the dinner like?
Before I accept it as a legitimate winter holiday, I'm going to first have to know if there's anything good to eat. If there's not, then I say Kwanzaa, Shmanzaa.
If anyone has any direct experience with this holiday, please enlighten me. I don't care about the history or the details, I just want the 4-1-1 on any food and presents the holiday includes.

To All My Lovely Friends Out There
(Just pretend like you can hear Judy Garland singing this to you in a slightly gin-soaked slur)

Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Let your heart be light,
From now on our troubles
Will be out of sight.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on our troubles
Will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore,
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We all will be together
If the Fates allow,
Hang a shining star
On the highest bough,

And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now.

Martha Stewart's Christmas Letter


Dear Friends,
When one is incarcerated with 1,200 other odoriferous inmates, it is hard to be selfish at Christmas -- hard to think of Christmases past and Christmases future while smelling something akin to a melange of kerosene, mildew and mackerel.
So many of the women here in Alderson will never have the joy and well-being that a few of you and I experience. Many of them have been here for years -- devoid of care, devoid of love, devoid of family and devoid of even basic grooming acumen.
I beseech you all to think about these women -- to encourage the American people to ask for reforms, in sentencing guidelines, in decent toiletries, in length of incarceration for nonviolent first-time offenders, and for those involved in drug-taking who deign not to share.
They would be much better served in a true rehabilitation center than in prison where there is no culinary esthetic, no cultural stimulation, no real programs to rehabilitate, no programs to educate and no wardrobe or coiffure guidance to be prepared for life "out there" where each person will ultimately find herself, many with no skills, no table manners, no artiness and no preparation for living a life of good taste.
I am fine, really. I look forward to being home, to getting back to my valuable real estate and servants, to creating, cooking, and making television.
I have had time to think, time to write, time to exercise, time to not eat the hideously bad food, and time to walk and contemplate the future.
I've had my work here too. I have been washing, scrubbing, sweeping, vacuuming, raking leaves, decoupaging, throwing pottery, batiking, petit pointing, garnishing, sculpting, free basing and much more.
But like everyone else here, I would rather be doing all of this in my own home, and not here -- around these unkempt, felonious vulgarians of dubious sexual orientation.
I want to thank you again, and again, for your support and encouragement. You have been so terrific to me and to everyone who stood by me.
I appreciate everything you have done, your emails, your letters, the small packets of Valium and cocaine and your kind, kind words.
Now, if someone could kindly send me some eau de vie, a silk eye shade, some Egyptian cotton linens in 600-thread count or more, a few springs of fresh lavender, a bottle of Nutrisse Garnier in Summery Maize and an iPod filled with Andrea Bochelli, Wagnerian opera, YoYo Ma and other stimulating musical interludes, my holidays will be more serene.
Happy holidays,


Martha Stewart
55170-054

What Was I Thinking?

I broke down and made Christmas cookies last night.
I used one of those cool spritz guns that works like a caulking gun, and I made two kinds of butter cookies.
One kind are sprinkled with jewel toned sugar crystals and the others are filled with spots of cranberry chutney in the center.
I intend to get rid of them asap, but I have succumbed to a few hastily wolfed down cookies under the guise of 'quality control.'
As a diabetic, I am no longer used to sugar, so the few cookies I scarfed down have amped me up like a crack ho. I'll have to work out for a solid hour to get back to normal.
I am getting very eager for Christmas Day to arrive.
It's not because I am such a happy little elf, it's more because my house is all sparkly clean and I'm not sure I can sustain such pristine conditions for four more days.
Maybe the buzz from the sugar in the cookies will help me stay manic enough to keep the clutter at bay. Or maybe I should just nap a lot until Saturday and stay out of mess-making trouble.

Terrific Apple Cake Recipe

My mom used to make this when I was a kid. Now that she's slightly senile, she doesn't bake anymore and she doesn't remember most people's names, much less recipes.
I thought the recipe had been lost forever until I discovered it recently, lodged in the very back of my recipe box.
I'm making one of these for Christmas dinner. It's what fruitcake wanted to be like, but failed.
If you bake one, you might want to marry me for giving you the recipe, it's so good.

Karen's Mom's Apple Cake Recipe

3 cups of flour
2 cups of sugar
4 cups cubed, unpeeled apples (I use green Granny Smiths)
1 cup of vegetable oil
1 cup of coarsely chopped nuts (I use pecans)
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1.5 tsps. cinnamon
3 eggs

Mix it all together in a bowl then transfer to a greased baking pan, dusted with flour.
Bake at 350F for about 50 minutes.

You're welcome.

Oy Vey, More Holiday Joy

I heard someone once describe the Christmas holidays as, "a time we leave our loved ones to be with our families."
I had decided on a simple, stress-free Christmas this year, just cooking a nice dinner and exchanging presents that day for my mom, siblings, their significant others and my best friend Anna.
My brother was here last week, and we decided we'd all meet dinner here at my house on Christmas Day. I sent an elaborate e-mail invitation to everyone.
My oldest sister in Austin decided to mix it up.
First, on behalf of everyone she canceled my dinner on Christmas Day and opted instead that we all meet for dinner at a local restaurant here in San Antonio today.
I said okay.
Then she read the menu in the e-mail invitation I'd sent and asked if I'd still cook dinner on the 25th after all.
I said okay. I'd planned to anyway.
Then my brother said he and his wife couldn't make it here on the 25th.
I said okay.
Then my Mom's sinuses got infected so my sister canceled the dinner today.
I said okay.
In the past, all these switcharoos would have driven me past the point of insanity.
But I realize now this is how my family operates.
They mow down plans each other makes without discussing it, then they reschedule new plans, then cancel them, they decline invitations, then ask to be reinvited.
I realize now the trick is to make my own plans and stick to them, regardless of who does or doesn't show up. I know Anna will be here, because she's like me- she likes to make a simple plan and stick to it.
I just hope she's flexible enough to help me eat a 6-pound standing rib roast on Christmas Day--just in case my flaky family pulls another 180º on me.
Christmas with my family makes a good case for converting to Judaism...but then they'd goof up those holidays, so what's a girl to do?

Ahh! 'Tis the Season of Regifting

We all do it.
Once we shop retail for Christmas gifts for our most significant relatives and friends, we begin to consider the second tier of people in our lives- those who warrant a Regift.
A regift, of course, is something we got as a gift we either strongly dislike, or have no hope of ever using.
I have a pile of them on hand for emergencies.
They include:
-An ecru lace tablecloth
-A decorative framed picture of a cat's face, done by someone I suspect was on acid at the time
-A wine opener that weighs 5 pounds and cut my finger the only time I tried to use it, not to mention it forcing the cork into the bottle instead of extracting it (sorry, Cris)
-A Chinese style glass lantern with dried flowers fused to the glass, designed to hold a tea candle
-A burlwood ink pot/bud vase
-An assortment of brooches and pins I'd rather die than wear
-Several items of clothing in sizes fit for the cast of The Biggest Loser
-Books I bought at Half-Price Bookstore that I don't want after all
-Assorted home decor bric-a-brac items that have nothing to do with my home decor, including a vast array of decorative boxes with nothing in them
-A handful of truly horrible CDs
-A videotape rewinder
-A clock with birds on it that cheeps on the hour
-A clock with cats on it that meows on the hour
-Silver candlesticks that only fit those hard-to-find super slim tapers
-Candles that are so decorative, it would be a venial sin to light them
-A hand-held, battery operated devise that cusses when a button is pushed
-And much, much more.
Now the task of assigning which regift to which person comes in.
What I might do is just wrap a few of them and throw them in my car trunk for those social events where someone I didn't expect a gift from gives me one.
I'll just say, "Wow, thank you! Let me go get your gift from my car."
Then I can watch with glee as they open it and express the same feigned delight as I did when I opened it the first time.
Okay, okay, maybe I am a chicken shit cheapskate for doing this.
But remember, it's the thought that counts. :)

Tell us what regifts you have stashed away.

Julie? Whaaaat?
Survivor host Jeff Probst has new girlfriend - Maine 'survivor', Julie Berry


"PORTLAND, Maine (AP) - One of the women who fell just short of winning the $1 million top prize on CBS' Survivor reportedly has a new boyfriend - the show's host.
Jeff Probst told People magazine that he and Julie Berry, of Gorham, have become a couple. "Nobody is more surprised than me," Probst, 43, was quoted as saying on the magazine's Web site. Probst said he and Berry, a 24-year-old youth mentor, started dating after he e-mailed her to say hello once the show was over..."

Well... isn't that interesting?
Besides a hot body, I wonder what he saw in her? She struck me as being pretty unremarkable.
I mean, come on, she was no Ami.
What's your take on it?

I Just Don't See it

Hear me now and believe me later!
My online People magazine page arrived today with a blurb about Ellen DeGeneris and Portia DiRossi.
With the blurb came a photo of the new couple and I gotta say THEY JUST DON'T MATCH.
I tend to be a casual type like Ellen, and I have dated women like Portia DiRossi.
All I have to say is Ellen better get used to waiting for her to preen and primp and slather on all that make-up, do her hair, strap herself into those merry widow corsets and snap on those fishnets and garter belts...and that's for a trip to the supermarket!
Women like Portia need two steamer trunks full of costumes just to go on a weekend getaway.
They also need a lot of emotional maintenance, and if they are one of the hot blooded ethnicities like this chick, Ellen is in for a sleighride to HELL.
If this isn't Ellen's mid-life crisis, I'll be a monkey's aunt.
Let's just hope this women isn't a heavy drinker.

Homeland Insecurity

While I'll admit that I too sort of liked former NYC Police Commissioner Bernard Kerik at face value, can you imagine the Bush administration wanting to put this guy in charge of Homeland Security without bothering to first find out what a smarmy past he has?
This is one more example of what happens when people elect an impatient, non-recovering dry drunk who wants what he wants when he wants it, regardless of the consequences.
In case anyone is keeping count, not one terrorist has yet been brought to justice by the United States justice system.
And if part of a democracy is to ensure a speedy trial, shouldn't Saddam Hussein be sitting on a green mile somewhere by now, awaiting the same outcome as Scott Peterson?
Jesus! You know things are bad when most people would agree that The Terminator would do a better job in the White House than that pinhead Bush has done.

Kaput!
Another Lesbian Couple Bites the Dust

Huh.
It seems Ellen DeGeneris and her gorgeous partner Alexandra Hedison have split up after a four year relationship. I was surprised to learn that. They seemed pretty happy in all the media coverage I've ever seen of them.
Even so, they lasted four years, which is about the equivalent of 10 years in heterosexual relationships.
The average long-term lesbian relationship lasts about three years.
Of the three years, the first six months are typically spent fucking like bunnies, then the remaining two and a half years are spent nurturing each other half to death, finally devolving to a blissful state called, "lesbian bed death."
Symptoms of lesbian bed death include:

• Buying a house together
• Frequent Sundays spent together at the Home Depot
• Buying an SUV to haul Home Depot purchases home
• Significant weight gain in one or both partners
• More than two cats, dogs, or a few of each
• Pets have too many toys, clothing, bedding and baby talky nicknames
• The purchase of an RV or travel trailer
• Large screen TVs and twin Lazy Boy lounge chairs, where they both fall asleep during the
10 o'clock news, right after eating giant bowls of ice cream
• Sweat suits or T-shirts and shorts become the standard uniform
• One or both get into therapy to handle "issues"
• Excess Internet usage for one, while the other stews in the other room
• The purchase of a huge, expensive barbecue grill with all the bells and whistles
• Lots of potluck dinners and barbecue parties on the deck, with guests who stay too long
• One or both get pregnant or have babies
• One returns to school to get her Master's degree
• Beer and/or wine consumption increases noticeably in one or both
• Farting no longer requires an apology, or even an explanation

I have done my share of lesbian cohabitation back in the day, but I haven't lived with anyone since the early 90's.
My earlier track record of having relationships that averaged three years in duration has now been distilled to about six months.
I think I get bored and restless after the bunny stage starts to fade, so I either leave or behave in a manner that inspires them to leave.
Even the idea of lesbian dating is losing its appeal for me, now that I'm single again.
Lesbian dating is a confusing set of rituals that can be quite exhausting.
I mean, honestly, who asks who out? Who drives? Who decides where to go? Who pays? When is the right time for the first kiss, and who should initiate it?
By the time I find someone halfway interesting, then ask everyone I know what they know about her to see if she's nuts or not, then wait around while she screens me, then get up the nerve to call her, I'm already exhausted.
I won't even get into the maze of confusion brought on by initiating sexual contact. By the time it gets to that, then the questions about top or bottom, toys or no toys, orgasmic or not, exclusive or not, that curiosity phase often results in the discovery of an utter lack of sexual compatibility-- after all that labor intensive prep work!
I think I have the solution.
Now that Ellen and Alexandra are single, I'd like for either one of them to contact me so we can hook up. I could do four years with either of them.
Until then, I think I'll just keep myself entertained by continuing to watch Law & Order 20 times a week.
At least with that, I don't have to waste all that energy shaving my legs several times a week.

Survivor: The Sunday Grand Finale

Some dude from Entertainment Weekly did all the legwork for me, so I'll just let you read what he said, then pick your final four - in order- in the comments box.
The season finale is on CBS, Sunday at 7 p.m. central.

My final four, in descending order:
Scout
Twila
Chris
and the winner
Eliza



"Is there any way that somebody could be undeserving of winning?" — Jeff Probst at Tribal Council.
"I don't know." — Twila.
"You don't know, or you don't want to say?" — Jeff Probst.
Oh! Oh! I want to say! Pick me! Pick me, Jeff! It's freakin' Scout! Look, I understand she's getting up there in years and shouldn't be expected to keep pace with people half her age, but man oh man (or, in her case, I guess woman oh woman), she is just completely useless when it comes to any form of competition. Now, of course it was no surprise that she went out first dragging through the mud in that reward challenge, but she couldn't even remember squat of the story about ol' Chief Whatshisname — becoming the only contestant to pull one of those funky black things out of the incorrect basket while in the process proving that older does not necessarily mean wiser.
Now, it would be different if she was some sort of Machiavellian mastermind, pulling the strings and controlling the strategic elements, but that's just not the case either. Ami, Twila, and Chris have been responsible for most of the strategy in the game. If Scout takes home the million, I think there will be a lot of unhappy Survivor fans.
What about the rest of the final four? Well, there's Twila, and as much as I liked her about halfway through the game, I swear on her son's life that she's kind of annoying the crap out of me lately. What was that craziness about burying all the bananas and not telling Eliza where they were? And then continuing to tell everyone off for bringing up her big lie? Do I care she lied? Hell no. I lie on a daily basis. Why, just today I told my son that Santa Claus occasionally has been known to travel by jet pack. Why? I have no idea! But by freaking out any time her fib comes up, Twila fuels the fire. Homegirl needs to mellow like a cello. (In fact, she was so aggro, she almost ran over poor Jeff Probst during the immunity challenge, which, truth be told, would have been pretty hysterical). Still, I kind of want her to make the final two, just to watch her get all indignant and pissy when peppered with questions by angry broads.
Then there's Eliza. EW's own Dan Snierson put forth the argument to me recently that she might just be the most annoying Survivor contestant ever. That's a tough one. I mean, one can not dismiss such notable knuckleheads as Thailand's Robb and Clay. And Jenna Lewis could certainly give Eliza a run for her money in the motormouth department. If Eliza truly wants that honor, she's gonna have to show me something seriously, seriously annoying in the finale. She just might have it in her. But does she have it in her to win? Well, she probably already has Ami, Julie, and Leann's votes locked in should she make it to the final two. And she's shown she can win the challenges to get there, especially with competition as weak as Scout and Twila. But her strategizing is shaky, and her mouth not only can be annoying but can get her into other trouble as well. How hilarious was that watching her blab to Chris about getting rid of Twila, only to have the camera swing over and show . . . Twila! Standing right there. Genius. Yet at the same time, idiotic.
And last we'll get to the guy who should have gone first — Chris. Personally, I think Chris made a huge blunder this episode. All that playing-both-sides nonsense did was get a jury member (Julie) and one more potential jury member (Eliza) mad at him. Why do that? Why lie? What does that possibly do to help you? If he had just told them straight up, "Sorry, ladies, but I think sticking with this alliance is the best move," Eliza would have stayed in line, and Julie (while upset to leave) would've understood and not held it against him. Now, instead, she's been lied to, and you know what they say about a woman scorned. . . . If Chris can make it to the final two, the game is probably his. If he's up against Eliza, then Sarge, Chad, Twila, and Scout would likely go his way. Against Scout or Twila, it could be a bit dicier if Ami puts the other ladies on the jury in some sort of trance and hypnotizes them into awarding it to a woman.
I guess I'm rooting for Chris. He's bucked the odds several times already, has strategized when he needed to, and is the only one left who hasn't gotten wrapped up in any petty arguments about buried bananas. Then again, that red tank top has really started to bug the hell out of me. And he seemed a bit drunk with power this past episode. (Who knows, maybe he and guide Joe got wasted on the free beer and wine while watching Mount Yasur erupt. I know I would have.)
Whatever happens, at least we should be in store for a pretty spicy final Tribal Council. Maybe Jeff Probst will even arrive in L.A. with the votes via jet pack. What? If it's good enough for Santa...
What do you think? Who is going to win the million? And who do you want to win?

Survivor/Apprentice

With Ami gone, it's official: this is the most boring episode of Survivor, ever.
Who will get the boot tonight? Who cares?
Okay, okay, I pick Julie. Why? Who cares?
As for the Apprentice, I heard somewhere two will get the boot tonight. I think the last one standing will end up being Jenn the lawyer.
She's the least obnoxious of the bunch.

Your picks?

Happy Chanukah

Okay, I am a day late, but for a Shiksa I figure I am close enough.
I have a lot of friends who are Jewish, and an ex girlfriend who taught me enough Yiddish to get by in almost any situation (that involves food or name calling).
I wish all my Jewish friends a happy season, and may all your dreildls be chocolate.
Shalom, y'all.

Jury Duty

I have a notice on my desk that says I have to report for jury duty at 1 p.m. on Thursday.
It's not just any jury duty, it's outskirts jury duty.
I don't even get to go to the giant, old limestone courthouse downtown, this is jury duty in some strip center in a part of town where low riders cruise the boulevard, you can buy five tacos for $1.99, and everyone's name has a Z in it somewhere.
This is not jury duty presided over by a judge, it's justice of the peace jury duty, which makes it even more piss-ant.
I am not what you'd call a likely juror. I have no patience for criminals and I don't care much for lawyers, either.
Unless I want to, I never get past voir dire. Here's why:

Q: Ms Zipdrive, do you believe people can be a little bit right and wrong?
A: No. They are either right or wrong, no in between.
Q: Do you ever spend time around young people?
A: No, I hate them.
Q: Do you have any hobbies?
A: No, hobbies are for lazy people.
Q: Do you think nursing homes are good places for elderly people?
A: Only the ones you're trying to kill off.
Q: Do you have any trouble hearing or seeing?
A: What?
Q: Have you been on a jury before?
A: Yes, me and 11 imbeciles.
Q: Do you believe the local police do a good job?
A: Yes, at corruption they do an excellent job.
Q: Do you believe insurance companies have to pay too much in settlements?
A: I don't think they pay enough.
Q: Do you think lawyers can be honest?
A: This is a trick question, right?

Actually, I just made up all that stuff.
In Texas, for me to skip jury duty is easy. I just tell them what I really think and they can't wait to dismiss me.
The one time I got selected, it was a child custody dispute.
The father was an ex druggie who'd found Jesus and dragged his kids to his recovering addicts' church every day he had custody of them. The mother seemed very nice, but she'd started dating again, and I think she was dragged into a custody dispute because the ex husband was jealous.
Take a wild guess who got to keep her kids.

Bah Humblog

The bad thing about having a client you don't like much is, when you finally get fired, it's sort of anticlimactic.
I've had this same corporate client for 10 years, but in the last two years my contact there has been with this woman I'll call the Cobra. Because her company is my biggest client, the salary I get from them makes up a large portion of my monthly income. I've had to be nice to her and tolerate her lack of corporate etiquette.
The Cobra's one of those 30-ish, ambitious types who can't be happy unless she's put her stamp on everything she comes near. She tells lies when she's cornered, then she lashes out when she thinks the coast is clear.
She fired me so she could hire a buddy of hers to write the company magazine. Her buddy the writer writes in the passive voice and thinks a 48-word sentence works just fine as a lead paragraph.
So, last week after I got the ax, I went to meet a friend for coffee and I stepped in dog shit on the way to my car. I discovered it as the aroma wafted up from my carpeted floor mat.
Once I got home, I received a message from a colleague who pays me $300 annually to judge a small circulation newspaper contest. Trouble is, I now write for one of the newspapers in the competition, so I had to disqualify myself.
If you're keeping score, that means I lost two jobs and stepped in dog shit, all in one day.
I went to dinner on a Riverwalk barge that night and had a lot of fun. It was a great distraction, but once I started the drive home, more trouble loomed ahead.
Stuck behind a 1982 Cadillac with three colors of paint and the taillights held on with duct tape, the driver was going 2 miles per hour in a 35 mile zone. After a couple of blocks stuck behind this imbecile, I stomped on my passing gear and passed him, just as he was negotiating a left turn.
The oncoming car was, naturally, a cop. I turned onto my street very rapidly, hoping to escape.
Only inches away from my driveway, I spied the flashing lights in my rearview mirror.
Yes, in one day I managed to get fired twice, step in dog shit and get pulled over by a cop.
He asked what I thought I was doing when I passed that man while he was turning and I simply said I thought he was drunk and wanted to get away from him.
The cop gave me a stern lecture, but no ticket.
I said, "Officer, I appreciate that. See, today I got fired twice and stepped in dog shit and I'm afraid a ticket would have pushed me over the edge."
He just shook his head and told me to go home.
When the Cobra fired me, I asked in my most humble voice if she'd be willing to read an e-mail letter I planned to write, making a rebuttal to her decision to fire me. She said of course.
I just sent the letter, which I copied to everyone in the company who outranks her, the entire marketing department, the entire IT staff, all of Human Resources and anyone else I know at that company who likes me, not to mention disliking the Cobra.
It may have been a slightly bitchy gesture, but when she walked me to the door she had the nerve to ask how my mother was. At Christmas time. Right after firing me.
Hrumph.

Bush Set to Name Ex-Chief of Police for Top Security Post

Bernard Kerik, the former New York City police commissioner, has been picked by Bush to replace Tom Ridge.
At first glance, I think this guy is the only Bush appointment I have ever considered relevant to today's climate of fear.
But will Kerik be willing to play politics with Karl Rove and Dick Cheney, and do what they tell him to do rather than what he knows is right to do?
I wish I didn't see a Herculean clash in the making, but I do.
A guy like Kerik could make the country safer, but unless his plans dovetail with the administration's loot and pillage philosophy, he'll just be one more casualty in this train wreck of a presidency.

Survivor/Apprentice Blog

In a rare moment of celebrating the holiday spirit, I will be spending Thursday night on a riverwalk barge, eating tourist Tex-Mex with friends instead of watching Survivor and The Apprentice.
I agreed to go before I realized I'd have to shell out 30 bucks to eat a $4 plate of enchiladas, while unseasonably nippy breezes skim over the icy river water and makes that a lukewarm $30 plate of enchiladas.
All that aside, I predict Ami will get the boot. That saddens me so much, I may have to add a few $12 margaritas to my $30 enchilada tab.
I was thinking of taping Survivor for later viewing, but taping The Apprentice afterwards is out of the question.
You see, that would require programming the VCR, which for me would be similar to building my own computer from parts Grey Bird ordered for me online from a Tokyo electronics merchant.
Let me put it this way- the clock on my VCR has been flashing 12 for many years now, and it has never occurred to me to amend that.
Anyway, besides picking my beloved Ami to get the boot, I am too distracted right now to try to recall what happened last week on the Apprentice, so I have no idea who Trump will fire this week.
I have, however, calculated that my lukewarm enchiladas will cost me about $6 per bite.

Your picks?