Fun with Googlism

In case you're not familiar with Googlism, it's a website that searches for a specific person, place, or thing on google and brings you back a page of random phrases pertaining to your query. I love playing with it, because it's fun to pretend it is some kind of bizarre oracle. So I plugged in some names of friends/others/locations. Here are some of my favorite results:

Googlism for: Heidi
heidi is in need of a loving home in texas
heidi is our front desk / dental assistant person and a big asset to our team
heidi is now acclaimed as one of the nation's leading cake artists
heidi is a chewer
heidi is an extremely finicky eater
heidi is regulary featured on tv and national radio

Googlism for: Gina
gina is pregnant
gina is fucking for a better life
gina is the biggest fucking bitch ever
gina is a silly dog
gina is so wise; i have to listen carefully to catch her thickened speech
gina is not available to users for free

Googlism for: Brianne
brianne is mooching ice cream
brianne is hit by lightning and zapped to baton rouge
brianne is home from her new mexico school for kids with special needs
brianne is annoying with a capital a
brianne is the recent widow of a rich nobleman
brianne is attending college in hopes of becoming a game warden

Googlism for: Natalie
natalie is on the september cover of jane magazine
natalie is the queen of procrastination
natalie is not shown at all on the teen choice awards
natalie is hot and she's in freakin' star wars
natalie is going to run the entire world
natalie is captured by an evil spellmage called hawk

Googlism for: Nels
nels is ashamed of his physical aged frailty
nels is certified by the new york state department of health
nels is gay ­why else would he be so upset?
nels is a god
nels is actually psycho
nels is the shit
nels is nominated to be the announcer at the circus

Googlism for: Glenn
glenn is a hunkmobile
glenn is a pimp
glenn is jesus' brother
glenn is personally overseeing most of the content here
glenn is off today to be with george bush
glenn is also a blues harp player (who knew?)
glenn is a young knight in the service of lord viper

Googlism for: Bono
bono is no naked chef
bono is boring
bono is a dinky trabant manufacturer
bono is a pentecostal snake handler
bono is fond of eating smarties with a spoon

Googlism for: Colin
colin is delicate
colin is not a noble knight for nothing
colin is currently one of britain's top golfers
colin is shawn brady's illegitimate son
colin is on numerous medications
colin is relatively new to the british country scene

Googlism for: Lindsey
lindsey is sexy hot asian babe
lindsey is a golden retriever
lindsey is one of the most successful authors of historical romance
lindsey is just a man
lindsey is available for custom photo shoots and videos

Googlism for: Kenosha
kenosha is almost here
kenosha is a place of hobbies
kenosha is moving forward with $226
kenosha is a large city with a population of 84
kenosha is an area of mountain meadows (???)

Crazy with the blog things

They're stupid, yet addictive! Come to think of it, that's true of many things in life.

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 8 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Water Glory Your Superpower is Raised by animals Your Weakness is Ants Your Weapon is Your Fire Knife Your Mode of Transportation is Cycle

What's your Superhero Name?

Can someone explain to me exactly how my weakness is "ants"? Like, am I paralyzed by fear of ants? Or is this like your weakness being chocolate cake or something, where you love it so much you can't pass it up? And how, exactly, "Raised by animals" is a superpower?

Evildoers are trying to take over the city? Never fear! I, The Water Glory, will save you all with the fact that my mother was a coyote and I grew up in a cave! Unless ... noooooooooo! ANTS!

You Are a Schoolgirl!

You're not quite as wild as a "kogyaru", but with your short plaid skirt and silly white socks, you're still a sexual fetish object. You can usually be seen hanging out in the girly section of the video game places, collecting photobooth stickers of you and your friends. You may not be as innocent as you look. Did those vending machine panties once belong to you?

What's Your Japanese Subculture?

You Are 28 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Your Musical Tastes Match: The Fab Five

See their whole playlist here (iTunes required)

What Celebrity Matches Your Taste in Music?

A week in the life, 1983

Another visit to the old journal. This past week beginning on Sunday, September 25th, I saw U2 in Milwaukee. Twenty-two years ago, on Sunday, September 25th...

I got up real early. I played with my toys. I got bookshelves in my room from Niki and Jaki's room. Patches is in my room snuggling. I have Kleenex for a toy.

Monday, Sept. 26th, 1983
Pussywillow Cat. Today was a Chelle day. We got up. I have a cute Kleenex box. I have new shoes. I put them on my feet. I have little covers.

Hot damn, I was into that Kleenex!

Wednesday, Sept. 28th, 1983
Today was a Chelle day. I napped. I have a big teddy bear. I got lots of animals at Marriotts' Great America.

Thursday, Sept. 29th, 1983
Today I went to Nana's. I played there. I didn't nap.

Friday, Sept. 30th, 1983
Today was a Chelle day. Chelle was just a sleepyhead today. We went grocery shopping. Heidi, Angel, and Amy were here.

Saturday, October 1, 1983
I got a new poster. I got a new siren for my bike - fire truck, police, and ambulance. I got a new book - it has Brianne in it. I bowled outside with Amy, Drea, Jaki, Niki, and Heidi. Jaki and I went to Nana's. I played the organ at Uncle Tony's house with Grandpa. Little Tony was there and Jaki was soooo happy. I slid down Jaki's legs and landed on my bum. Chrissy was bowling too.

It's amazing how beautifully simple the life of a three-year-old can be. I'm glad I have the journal to look back on, because you forget things like that. I mean ... that was my whole life. That was just it. And I was perfectly content. I should look into getting Kleenex for a toy again.

Word Search!

I made you all a word search. Go forth and play!

You're dangerous 'cause you're honest

Back from U2! And so amazingly tired. I haven't grabbed more than an hour of dozing in a chair since, well, Friday night. Our foursome arrived at the Bradley Center in the dark of the morning Sunday (just before 5:00 a.m.) and were rewarded with spots 10-13 in line. That probably sounds crazy, and I'm not denying that it is, but keep in mind that last time we all saw U2 together an 11:00 p.m. night-before arrival was good for #50.

And then it proceeded to rain all day. Did I mention that it rained all day? Because it did rain. All day. It barely stopped between downpours. Lindsey had enough foresight to bring her tent, so we pretty much lived in that. We were still wet from the first deluge, though, and then waiting in line for the final hour and a half before doors absolutely soaked me anyway. Yay!

However, U2 put on a really good show tonight. I think I enjoyed it a little more than last May's concert in Chicago. We were on the floor outside the ramp near the center, first row. Outside of the ellipse, you couldn't have asked for a better place. Highlights for me were "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses" (acoustic, played right in front of us on the ramp), "Miss Sarajevo" (Bono was very impressive with the Italian opera singing - seriously), and "The First Time" (played for the fourth time ever). I also enjoyed how the wider view of the stage let us appreciate the set a lot more. Oh, and they played "Passenger Side" during the preshow music. You better believe Gina and I got a kick out of that.

Of course, it was still raining when we got out. And it rained all the way home. But now I don't care, because I'm inside, and it's time for sweet, sweet sleep.

That's an Ozark key!

My week, looking from Friday afternoon? About a zillion times better than my week from Tuesday afternoon. Most of the stressors petered out and turned out fine, there was the conference, which was fine, and then there were other fun and happy things at night. One highlight of Wednesday night? Sam's hand shadow llama singing "Time of the Season." One highlight of Thursday? Learning that neck braces and dog shit are the height of comedy, according to some people. And there's a weekend coming up, and a couple of friends visiting that I haven't seen for a long time. Well, I haven't seen Michelle for a long time, anyway. And we'll all see U2 in Milwaukee on Sunday. And then I'll be really tired on Monday and we have a big deadline on Thursday morning ... but why worry about that now?

Domenico + about 8

Well, I'm not drunk, and I didn't yell and scream too much, but tonight was a nice antidote to the week I've been having. I met up with Paulo for a late dinner at Watertower (okay, we scarfed down slices of pizza) and then met Kris, Xtina, and Laura at the MCA for the Domenico+2 with On Fillmore show. It was part of the World Music Festival, and was a highly entertaining night of music. The MCA theater is a really nice space to see a show, first of all, and the crowd was extremely well-behaved. Our seats turned out to be assigned, which kind of sucked because they were mostly purchased individually, but we all ended up sitting in the same row anyhow and nobody asked us to move.

On Fillmore began the show. No longer a member of the Polyphonic Spree, Darin was tonight delicately balancing a Kid Rock/Panama Jack vibe. During one song, a man we later figured out was Moreno Veloso came out and sat down on a chair, then laid down on the ground and started "swimming" stealthily along the front of the stage on his belly, in the direction of the vibes. It was odd and kind of funny, but I was fine until Kris whispered, "He's gonna kill Glenn!" At that point I lost it. Thanks a lot, Kris.

On Fillmore stayed on the stage as the Brazilians joined them, and played along with all of their songs as well. Everyone moved from one instrument to another on almost every song - the Domenico + 2 fellows (and there were actually about six of them) were harder to keep track of, but I know Darin and Glenn cycled through vibes, drum set, percussion toys, shakers, a flat little lap drum thing (excuse my ignorance), conga drums, and on one memorable tune Glenn rocked out on triangle. The Brazilian singers were great, too - one of them had a predilection for dancing, and started grinding with the guitar player on the last number. They're all top-notch musicians, and given my fondness for percussion, I think I should pick up one of their CDs.

Typing from a fetal position is kind of hard

The past five days or so have reached a crescendo of stress (stresscendo?), and I feel like I need to escape. And maybe get drunk, or yell and scream for awhile. What will most likely happen, though, is me working some more, attending our huge conference, and then going to the MCA later.

Here goes

I have a hell of a week coming up, both work-wise and extracurricular-wise. I don't even really know what I'll be doing from one day to the next, so updates will probably be spotty around here. (You never know when I might find time, though.)

I had a weird moment of iPod shuffle synchronicity today - first Colin Meloy's cover of "Sister I'm a Poet" played, ripped from his EP. Then right after it, a short track from Colin's solo show at Schubas came on. This recording had all between-song banter separated for unknown reasons, and the bit that came on was what Colin said after playing "Sister I'm a Poet" that night. Out of 4,000 songs, that's rather impressive. Kudos to you, iPod. Kudos to you.

Wisconsin Moovalous Cheese

I was at Walgreens, and a 64-box of State Crayons from Crayola caught my eye. Each state has an appropriately named color, plus some extras like "Greenback" and "Purple Mountain's Majesty." Obviously, I had to have it. And now I'm consumed with the desire to find a blank map of the United States and color each state in its own State Crayon color. I just stopped by here on my way to Google.

Yuck

Today blew. I'm way too busy, and I'm also tired. I cannot wait until mid-October.

The great Glinski story

Okay, it's time to share my Mr. Glinski story. As I mentioned a few days ago, Mr. Glinski was the student teacher for my sixth grade class. I would have to say that, if you're a young student teacher, sixth grade is probably not the most enjoyable place to student teach. We didn't exactly see him as an equal ... but we also didn't see him as a teacher. I remember my group of girlfriends doing things like "getting mad" at Mr. Glinski and refusing to speak to him for a couple of days and ignoring him at recess. Seriously. Or deciding he wasn't being fair, and keeping a spreadsheet of who he called on during class. I can't remember the other things we might have done, but his first teaching job after college was in kindergarten. Ha.

Despite those happenings, we really were pretty fond of Mr. Glinski. He was a nice guy. He liked to make jokes (maybe that was part of the problem) and he always signed papers and things with his signature smiley face.

On the last day of sixth grade, Allison, Melissa, Kim and I decided we'd leave for school early, stop at Burger King (I think it was Burger King) and bring breakfast to school for our regular teacher, Mrs. Thompson, as well as Mr. Glinski. Both of them were surprised and pleased, and I didn't think any more about it until a couple of weeks after school let out, when I received a thank-you card in the mail from Mr. Glinski.

It was a nice little card - I can't remember what was on the front, but the message inside will live in infamy for years and years to come. Poor Mr. Glinski was just trying to be polite ... one can only assume ... and I think he meant to write "I just wanted to thank you for the breakfast treat on the last day of school." But that's not what he wrote. No, the message in my card said the following:

I just wanted you for the breakfast treat on the last day of school.

-Mr. Glinski

[signature smiley face]

I really wish I could have shown it to him in person and asked what, exactly, he meant to suggest. Oh man. I really need to find it and scan it - I know I saved it - because the little smiley face at the end just brings it all together.

Gotta get me a turntable

Oooooooooooh! I got home from work, and propped up against my door was the lovely, lovely Picaresque on vinyl! NAVY and MAROON vinyl! (The maroon looks more purple to me, and the navy more ... not navy.) Anyway, sooo pretty. My eyes are like two little cartoon hearts right now.

In which I am pleasantly shocked

About a week ago, I ended a rant about presidential accountability with this:

"I expect an apology to the people of New Orleans when this calms down, and I expect explanations of what was done wrong and what will be done correctly in the future. Sadly, I doubt we will get either one."

Well well well. It appears I was wrong on that. Today, we got this:

"Katrina exposed serious problems in our response capability at all levels of government," Bush said at joint White House news conference with the president of Iraq.

"To the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility," Bush said.

I'll be damned. Given that the only thing this can do for the president's PR is make everyone like him more, it shouldn't be surprising that it happened. But don't let the cynic in me fool you - I'm happy about this. It was the right thing to do, and the president did it, and that increases my respect for him.

The best thing ever

Oh my God. I was reading through my alumni magazine and saw the bio department at the UW just bought one of these. A three-dimensional printer. That's right. It can print out three-dimensional models as large as 20" X 24" x 16", in color. I can't even wrap my mind around the sheer awesomeness. You can print out ANYTHING! It's one step closer to teleportation! You can print out shoes! Toys! Vases! Dollhouse furniture! Yeah, or bacteria tails, complex proteins, and DNA helices, but who even cares? I need to see this thing in action. I wonder if the Bio Media Center will have visiting hours for it, or if someone could send out alerts when they're going to print something new?

Here are some things that have been printed from the magical super funbox:

Stay as cool as you are now!

I just unearthed my elementary school and junior high yearbooks, and they have proven to be a treasure trove of amusement. I have an autograph from Heidi in kindergarten (she is officially my oldest "active" friend) but it's not in my kindergarten yearbook - it's on a sheet of manilla paper somewhere else. The autographs really don't get interesting until second grade. That was the year everybody exchanged phone numbers. Also, for whatever reason, every single year starting in second grade we had our teacher's autograph ... and the autographs of all the lunch ladies. Mmmkay.

My third grade yearbook has a page at the back entitled "My Year." Under accomplishments I listed "Leaned to Divid Fractions." Ummm, too bad I didn't also lean to spell.

It's also fun to follow the autographs of certain people through the years. My elementary school best friend, Allison, signed only her name in the corner that year. Most of the 3rd grade autographs had a certain grammatically incorrect charm. "Your cool!" "Hope your in my class next year." "Your a great person." Nick C. went for the simple pithiness of "Whoa!!"

Fourth grade was more of the same, with subtle differences. Bryan drew me a "marshoon alien." Mandy wished me a "Funcky funcky summer." Some shades of personalization and inside jokery began to emerge - Lissy called me "Bree Bree Gun," and Allison's autograph read "Ally Cat - Hypadeemicnerdle." (I could explain that, but ... nah.) Most amusingly, in the memories section I wrote two memories: "When Rachael barfed on Bryan's spelling test" and "When we went to the Domes and had a cool bus driver who let us turn on the radio." Man, fourth grade was a great year!

By fifth grade, we had come into our own. The inside cover proclaims the yearbook my property, with proof sheet photos of Allison and myself labelled "Al Bundi" and "Bree-Bree Gun, or occasionally Hip Cat." Tragically, I have a "Your a great young artist" autograph on the second page ... from the art teacher. Candy wished me a "nice fun wacky summer." I can't remember if it delivered. I was also wished a great summer, a cool rad & fun summer, and a wild summer. Katie wished me "the coolest summer EVER!" though, so I think she won. Nathan signed off as "Mr. Handwriting," and Allison had a longer, rather dramatic autograph:

Bree,
Friends 4-ever.
The fights, the fun,
The fear, the hope.
The tears, the laughs.
Does it get any better?
(1841-1843) (Hip Cat)
Allison

Yeah, a bit melodramatic for 11-year-olds. Still, a couple of things must be noted - that year we'd shattered the school record for longest fight between two people (we were enemies for three months, while the whole fifth grade and various teachers avidly followed our fight's progress) and also ... we're still friends, fourteen years later. The memories section of the yearbook lists: "Ally and I's fight, our reunion (courtesy of Amy), Mrs. Johnson (2cool 2be 4gotten), kidnapping B.G. (Big Gal), and great times! (And whipping Mr. Somers in kickball.)"

Last but not least, 6th grade. In the back are the longest autographs thus far from friends - we actually have something to say now; imagine that. Ryan drew me a small and complex killer robot. The funniest autographs are from the student teacher, Mr. Glinski, and a girl named Shonda. Mr. Glinski subtitled his autograph "the crossing guard" and drew his signature smiley face. I can't quite remember why the "crossing guard" thing was funny ... but trust me, it was. The smiley face also reminds me of the most hilarious Glinski story ever, but I'll save that for another time. Shonda, with comical innocence, wrote the following:

Shonda
2 Lovers
2 gather
_________
4 ever

(652-****)
call me.

Ha! Shonda had older sisters, and I'm sure just she thought she was being cool, but that equation, combined with the phone number and "call me" ... oh man. I'm still giggling. Junior high autographs (in which I'm instructed to have "a lot of unsafe sex," and the science teacher sweats on my yearbook!) coming soon.

The following images need no introduction

I blatantly stole the screenshots from this site. But here's the best part - YOU CAN PLAY THE GAME HERE! Funny tombstones and dysentery, here I come!!

Update: Hee.

Once I lost this thing...

Do things that you've lost stand out really clearly in your mind? I don't mean in an abstract sense. Literally, crap that you've lost. I think the things that bug me most are things I never actually had, but almost did. When I was four, my parents replaced our front steps. When the old ones were ripped out, you could peer under our porch to the actual foundation of the house. It was probably something else, but I swear I remember seeing old china dishes under there and really wanting to go get them. Of course, I wasn't allowed to go under the porch. Then the steps were replaced. Part of me still believes there's a box of old china down there. Later that summer, when I took my first trip to the Pacific Ocean, I liked picking up shells from the beach. Once a wave washed the biggest, most beautiful shell to shore. I ran over and was just about to pick it up when another wave came and washed it back out to sea. I searched for it to no avail. I still want that damn shell.

Those memories are tinged with a sense of unreality, probably because they happened so long ago and I'm not even sure I trust them anymore. The "porch china" memory especially. But maybe that's not all ... maybe the unreality is also related to the near miss of something you really wanted.

Back in January, a group of friends and I were fortunate enough to host a private show by one of my favorite musicians. I was responsible for compiling everyone's setlist wishes, something I had fun with but would probably never volunteer to do again. This meant that I also dispatched the message informing said musician of the various setlist wishes. After the show, I saw that the setlist he'd used was actually my message, printed out, with notations and arrows and little notes scribbled all over it. A friend picked it up, but later that night he let me have it because he thought I deserved it. I didn't take time to do more than glance at it, because I wanted to examine it later at my leisure. It was one of the coolest (to me), most unique things I'd ever had in my possession. I swear I remember putting it in my bag ... and that was the last time I ever saw it. Sigh. The funny thing is, even that has taken on a bit of an unreal quality in my memory. Did it really exist?

Tiny food

Just to let you know, I haven't forgotten about the dollhouses that are currently residing in the Basement o' Wonders in Kenosha. Someday soon, they shall be rescued. In the meantime, I've been trying to decide what miniature object should be the first to celebrate the dollhouses' return to the world of upstairs. I think this is pretty freaking sweet:



Tiny crepes! Tiny. Crepes.

An afternoon at the fair

Gina says:
we did see some baby animals though
Brianne says:
hehe. awww
Gina says:
piglets are cute
Gina says:
lambs are cuter
Gina says:
the piglets were like 10 hours old
Gina says:
they were so tiny
Brianne says:
wow
Brianne says:
i'll bet they're really tender at that age
Gina says:
not much meat on them, though
Brianne says:
true, true
Brianne says:
you'd need a couple of them, on a skewer
Gina says:
LMAO
Gina says:
stop it!
Gina says:
i'm sure the lambs are tastier anyway
Brianne says:
yeah, you're probably right

This entry brought to you by Captain Obvious

This has been said over and over throughout the past week. I still feel the need to say it myself, though.

I cannot imagine what today would be like if my home were New Orleans. I can't imagine having to leave everything behind and now know I wouldn't be coming back for weeks or months, to suddenly have no place to call my own, to not know what had happened to all of the people I knew, if I was lucky enough to be able to account for all of my close friends and relatives. To know that my home might be under water, or if not, had probably been thoroughly looted. Or what if I hadn't gotten out of the city before the storm? We've all been seeing images and film that give an inkling, but then people who are lucky, like I am, can turn off the television or close the newspaper or get off the internet.

I don't have any close friends or family in New Orleans, but as of this morning I've learned that everyone I do know in the area is fine, though some are displaced. That's good news.

The thing I can't let go of, though, is anger at the people who were supposed to be in charge of all this ... the evacuation, the immediate (yes, immediate) response, and the relief in subsequent days. And also the anger at people who are not angry. I have heard so many people argue that what we need to do at a time like this is band together, to do what we can to help out, to not criticize the relief effort or the president. And that, my friends, is bullshit. Not the first part. Of course we need to help out in any way we can, but the idea that helping out and demanding accountability for the intolerably slow and inadequate response to this tragedy are mutually exclusive is ridiculous. Not to mention dangerous. I have donated to the Red Cross and scouted volunteer opportunites; do I have permission to speak?

From people in New Orleans and people in Houston and other areas where evacuees have been taken, I have heard stories of total disorganization and lack of supplies. It has been nearly a week. The speed and magnitude of this response have been unacceptable; it's that simple. And the accountability falls on the heads of our government. The president doesn't make decisions in a bubble, but guess what? The buck stops with him. Coaches of teams get fired when a team does badly. Players get traded right away. That's the way things work. I wonder if things wouldn't be better sometimes - and if we'd see more accountability between elections - if things were the same in government. (Yes, I know there are many, many problems with this scenario, but I wonder all the same.) No, I cannot give a detailed tactical plan of everything that needs to be done, but the idea that I should need to is absurd. If a surgeon killed all of his patients through ineptitude, would anyone suggest that I shouldn't find fault with him because I wouldn't be able to perform the surgery myself?

I expect an apology to the people of New Orleans when this calms down, and I expect explanations of what was done wrong and what will be done correctly in the future. Sadly, I doubt we will get either one.

Even better than a New Kids trading card

The Basement o' Wonders in Kenosha has struck again. This time it has coughed up a possible import from my grandfather's basement - a Beatles Movie "A Hard Day's Night" trading card. Number 32, to be exact. A goofy sepia toned photo of Ringo is on the front, and the back reads "In A HARD DAY'S NIGHT, Ringo Starr disappears, and the three Beatles are frantic. The boys are supposed to do a television show and for awhile it appears as if they'll have to go on without their drummer, Ringo." That kind of makes me wonder what it says on the back of the first 31 trading cards. Unless, of course, they were each about a different movie. Perhaps there are more lurking about...

Wisdom from Ma Ingalls

Recently I was rereading (for about the 500th time) Little Town on the Prairie. I've actually been rereading all of the Little House books over the past couple of months. The Basement o' Wonders in Kenosha has at least two copies of each, so I've been borrowing them. God, I love those books. When I was in elementary school I used to daydream about beaming Laura and her family to my house and knocking their socks off with all the rooms and modern conveniences and such. For awhile I had a Laura Ingalls Wilder obsession, and read all the nonfiction biographies I could find about her. That reminds me - my sister Jaki had read most of the books and watched the TV show as a child, but had never seen photos of the actual Ingalls family. When I found this out a few years ago, I immediately located some on the internet and showed them to her. She was permanently traumatized, especially by the real-life Pa and Carrie. (This led me to print one out, frame it, and hang it up in her bathroom one day while she wasn't looking.)

Back to Little Town on the Prairie. Laura was given an autograph album as a present from Ma and Pa. Later, Ma wrote a verse in it for Laura. I must have read it twenty times over the years and never paid much attention. For some reason, though, this time it really resonated:

If wisdom's ways you wisely seek,
Five things observe with care
To whom you speak, of whom you speak
And how and when and where

It seems so obvious ... but it's so true. I don't know why I'm so much more aware of that now - maybe because of things like the internet and instant messaging and cell phones and the multitude of other ways that anyone can say anything to anyone else (or a million other anyone elses) at a moment's notice. Maybe because I have more to say now than I used to. But I find myself constantly aware of all those things, both as they apply to myself and as they apply to the world at large. I see people who are careless about who they talk to and who they talk about and where they do that talking, and I see how much trouble it can cause, even by accident. (Maybe especially by accident.) Who hasn't seen that? I don't like censorship, but I'm a big fan of discretion and common sense. I don''t always manage either one, but I try.

I looked the verse up, and though it gets lumped in with a lot of bible verses and preaching, it seems to be originally attributed to an American journalist named William Norris. That makes sense.

I sway / wild, you grow wild

U2 has a demo called "Flower Child" that I heard for the first time a few months ago, and liked better than almost everything on their most recent album. I listened to it a few times and then forgot about it until a couple days ago. Trying to come up with the lyrics and melody, the chorus that kept going through my head instead was that of LeRoy Bach's song "Dad Says". Curious. When I finally remembered "Flower Child," I realized the choruses do sound a lot alike. I am almost positive "Dad Says" came first, which means that U2 must have had scouts at the Hideout Block Party in Chicago in 1999! Or some other time LeRoy has played the song. If I remember at lunchtime (and can stay awake until then, since I once again stayed up until 2:30 a.m. finishing A Million Little Pieces) I'll try to add a couple of yousentit links to the choruses so you can hear what I'm talking about.

Update: I forgot that "Flower Child" is trapped on my iPod and I don't know how to release it back into the wilds of my computer. Stay tuned...

...okay, all set. This was way more trouble than it's worth, by the way. And for some reason I couldn't compress the "Flower Child" chorus back down, so it's about 3.5 MB while the "Dad Says" chorus is 600K. Ahhh. Anyway.

"Dad Says"
"Flower Child"