Soothing the savage beastie. . .Nothing of note on my mind today except the re-opening of The Scottish Play, which the director has staged in a lovely post-apocolyptic style. In honor of that, I share this song (with broken leg wishes for all):

When You’re A Thane
(to the tune of When You’re a Jet) (duh) (with fervent apologies to Mr. Sondheim)

When you’re a Thane,
You’re a Thane all the way
From your first opened vein
Til the end o’ the play.
When you’re a Thane,
Let ‘em try what they can
You’ve got kinsmen around
You’re a part of a clan.
You’re never alane, you’ll nae be unattended
And in this campaign, with loyalties pretended
You’re well defended.
Then you’re dead great with a capital T
Well, at least til 5-8, when you’re Earled with an E
But until then you stay a Thaaaaa-aaaane!

When you’re a Thane
You can really get down
You can bust in some heeds
You can kill for the crown.
When you’re a Thane
You’re this bloody great dude
Who can fight all he wants
It’s a family feud.
The Thanes are on-stage, the bashin’s gonna proceed
We’re all in a rage, we’ll fight until you fake-bleed
At three-quarter speed.

Here come the Thanes,
From the vaum, at a run
Someone gets in our way
Someone won’t have much fun!
Here come the Thanes
With no reason to hide
If MacBeth gets too nuts,
We can always switch sides.
Betrayals galore, the king is six feet under
And there’s so much gore, you might begin to wonder
If you might chunder.
Here come the Thanes,
Yeah! And we’re gonna beat
Up each other with bats
Til you squirm in your seats.
Til you’re squirming, writhing, cringing in your seeeeeats!

The cheese stands alone. . .Where she shares with us some political views. . .oh joy! oh rapture!

Any meeting where I feel compelled to invoke the phrase "Tyranny of the Majority" more than once is officially an evil, evil meeting. Present and accounted for we had: the management-representative (who not-so-incidentally serves as the chairman of the committee), the intellectual snob from IS, the 2 moderates, the bread-and-circuses woman, the common-man woman and the resident anarchist-malcontent (that would be yours truly). This Sounding Board, as it is officially called, has a primary directive which involves processing employee suggestions and complaints and facilitating their resolution. Twas a beautifully illustrative experience to witness how concerns which did not happen to be shared by more than 3 of those present magically became unimportant and then disappeared. Interestingly, the same thing happened to any concerns deemed volatile. Now, far be it from me to suggest this as a model for why third-parties just don't thrive in this country. . .hee, hee hee, hee hee hee hee hee (laughs evilly).

Needless to say I became irrate and vocal. . .thank you high school debate!

The waters of oblivion. . .I posted yesterday and it has yet to appear on my blog. Mayhap I really am shouting into oblivion.

Or not. Ask and ye shall receive, it seems. This blog entry to be replaced by something more worthwhile, interesting or at least longer after the caffiene kicks in.

Or not. Since so many other blogs are slice-of-life landfills, I've decided to just leave it as is. . .and randomized for your protection:

there's 'decapitated' for having one's head removed, but is there a handy word for having some other limb chopped off?

Torill had a fair and rather gently put objection to damnthepacific dot com, to which Lane over-reacted a bit. . .it seems she has been expecting negative feedback which has yet to show up and thus had a lot saved up to use. Which begs the question: Am I the only one disturbed by this site?

Perhaps I should follow the example of good ol' G&E. . .

It's Blog, it's blog! It's better than bad, it's good!. . .Like a good little neophyte I've been doing my research, blog browsing, looking for a niche to fill, ideas to borrow, things to avoid doing: I am congratulating myself that my first post was a more eloquent way of saying "testing" than the usual, though one can't help but admire the economy of typing involved therein. I am envious of the travel-blogs I find, past or present, destination unimportant; they are in motion and I am not. I am confused by the high percentage of bloggers who seem to really love Mariah Carey (then again, so does the mail clerk here and she's a lovely person).

And then I discovered a blog which shook me to my tootsie roll center: damnthepacific dot com.

damn the pacific dot com is a current-standing Blog of Note and features the saga of Lane and Stu, two e-mail friends turned lovebirds. One lives in Australia, one lives in North Carolina and the site is their unapologetic attempt to raise money to bring them together. Did I say unapologetic? Make that downright aggressive. Thier blog reads like a PBS pledge-driver's wet dream, riding that fine line between begging and berating those who have yet to donate. . .which, as of 2 o'clock this afternoon, is everyone but Chuk and Jeff. . .who apparently rock.

Now, I could go on for awhile about the many, many aspects of this blog which disturb me . . .but I'd rather get to the most important question: Why are you damning the Pacific? What has the Pacific ever done to you? The Pacific is not to blame! Don't you think, if it only could, it would gladly slurp out of your way to give you two the wonderful close relationship you obviously oh-so-richly deserve? Why not blame the parents who were so insensitive as to give birth to you on opposite sides of it. . .and obviously won't even lend you the money for an airline ticket to cross it? While you're at it, why not blame the airlines for their unreasonable prices. . .and for charging more to people who live in Australia? And why not blame Australia, if you have to blame some geographical item? What's a civilized country doing being all the way over there anyway?

Poor Pacific, nobody understands you as I do. . .

Yes! We are all individuals!. . .Ah, just when you thought you'd had an original sort of idea or at the very very least an original blog title, you find one called Pure Coincidence. Well, I do, anyway. Presumably you would have to find a differently titled blog to give you the same feeling of intellectual vertigo which I just experienced. . .or a similar feeling, I mean; I suppose we can't really have the same feelings. Unless there are more of us than I thought. Note to self: stop using "you" when you mean "I". It gets too confusing.

Back to my original non-original point. I'm never sure whether these little incidences of coincidence are more comforting or frustrating. On one hand, they seem to point to a collective subconcious which, besides being kind of neato, suggests we are not really alone which is, tada!, comforting. Other hand, my superiority complex would like to believe me capable of truly independent thought and being ambushed by evidence that I am not is frustrating.

Or perhaps tis as my and my un-met friend's blog titles suggest and I should maybe stop over-analyzing it. And get some lunch.

My Strange and Self Abuse. . . God supposedly abhors a vacuum and my psyche abhors tranquility. Witness: spent my drowsy drifting off to sleep time and my 45 minute morning commute obsessing about random stupid things I said in a large late-night multi-person conversation. . .then proceeded to berate myself about these things to the tune of "You have annoyed them now and they will never wish to hang out with you again, ever. Serves you right you self-centered egotistical freak!" Never mind the fact that other people said things which could be considered aggressively offensive, "We're not responsible for them!" Obviously my SuperEgo was feeling the need to assert its authoritay. . .the Id has been partying it up this summer and Labor Day is nigh. . .my Ego sits back and waits to scavenge the remains.

Perhaps when I weary of being my own whipping boy I shall accept the crunchy munchy cinnamon bagel I bought as a peace offering. . .

So, we're at my first post and I should probably say something more interesting than "Long time listener, first time caller," but the truth is I jumped onto the blogwagon without considering why I really wanted to be here. So, this is a whim and now I guess i decide what to do with it. . .perhaps it will be that daily writing exercise my high school english teacher always wanted me to pursue. . .perhaps it will be therapy for my angsty days, solace for my mopey days and a groovy electronic bullhorn for when I have something fun and great to share. . .perhaps I will get others invovled. . .or post my latest one-acts and photog projects. . .perhaps twill become a stream-of-conciousness obliette. . .

For the nonce it shall remain whim driven. I'm sure a super-objective will eventually emerge.