Wednesday, March 30, 2005
 
Death And The Blog
With the introduction of a feeding tube, my Pope is shamelessly trying to glom himself some Terri Schiavo spill-over love. I can understand his frustration as he's been at the top of everyone's Celebrity Next To Die list for 10 years now, a position even more solidified since Marlon "Butter Veins" Brando snuffed it last year. Then this Schiavo girl shows up after laying there for 15 years not bothering anyone (herself included) and nobody gives a shit about Popey anymore.

The sad thing is that JP2 doesn't seem to understand that his story lacks the pathos of the Schiavo case. In his situation, there is no one for the radical right to paint as the villain. The Pope needs a Michael Schiavo if he's going to work some of that Terri magic. It's sort of a catch-22 for the Pope though because if we were to find out that he's been married to a man for any length of time, the feeding tube and right-to-life hoo-ha wouldn't be the lead story anymore, I suspect.

Although it would explain why he shares a bedroom with the cardinal he calls "Sugar-Lump".

...

Speaking of the decrepit, I've been dealing with one of those flashes of the existential heebie-jeebies lately. It might have something to do with my landmark birthday last year (30) and the next one approaching (sometime in the next 11 1/2 months... plan accordingly), forcing my brain to examine itself and its gathering finitude.

All is transitory, all is shifting, all is Heideggerrian becoming, all on its way elsewhere...

Even the blog. They seem so permanent with their electronic representations of printed words stored potentially forever so that future generations can read about how early 21st century people liked to quote song lyrics, talk endlessly about boring subjects (sailing, porcelain figurines, jazz) or knit for Jesus.

But then one day you're innocently clicking through your blog-roll and... something's wrong. Someone is missing.

I don't know what happened to Melissa, but I hope it's nothing serious. I know she was bitching about work a lot, then yesterday a bunch of her posts disappeared just before her blog blinked out of existence completely.

If it was a work-related blog rub-out, then I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate myself again for 1) blogging anonymously, even with the stupid pseudonym that I'm stuck with now and forever and 2) not working.

Every day not having a job seems like a smarter and smarter idea. I have less to blog about potentially as I'm not surrounded by retarded people whom I hate 40+ hours per week. But then I do have kids who, while not retarded, do occasionally break things or vomit, which is very considerate of them as it gives me something to talk about besides TV shows I watch.

I guess potentially I could be "fired" by my wife for blogging about her, but anyone who reads this blog knows Mrs. Pops is the perfect woman who never gives me anything to complain about. Especially if she's reading this right now.

Seriously though, if anyone knows what happened to Melissa's blog, let me know. Unless she moved it just to be rid of me specifically and has sworn you to secrecy. I would understand that completely. Just like high school all over again.

For the time being, the Bucket will be flying in missing-man formation. Also, I will stop reading Heidegger.


This post on the Narcissus Scale: 7.8


Pops


PS: In their infinite wisdom the people in control of US Soccer have scheduled tonight's World Cup Qualifier match vs. Guatemala in that world-reknowned soccer hotbed of... Birmingham, Alabama. Congratulations to SJ and all her fellow 'Bamians. If I know anything as a Californian is that when the Guatemalans come, they come to stay. Child care and lawn service are about to get really, really cheap in the greater Birmingham area.

Watch the match. It's on a 5 pm PT/8 pm ET on ESPN2. We lost 2-1 to Mexico on Sunday in case you missed it. Support your national team. It's the only sport that carries a permanent US national team. It's a grueling schedule all for a fraction of what athletes in other sports make.

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