The Breakfast Club (A Young Person's Guide)

 
breakfast beers photo breakfastbeers.jpgSo
instead of what I should have been doing, which was writing a kick ass
Breakfast Club, I spent last night watching a movie called Moonrise Kingdom with my family and a few friends.

I think their intention was that I should like this movie, which I
do.  It's a coming of age love story between two quirky misfits set in
the Penobscot Islands, just about the best place on the planet as far as
I'm concerned.  It features Bill Murray, one of my favorite actors, and
Bruce Willis, in one of his less objectionable roles.

Things work out well in the end, most of the jerks come to the
realization that they are being jerks and stop it and become inspired to
aid the course of true love.

If it's still available on YouTube I'll put it up tonight as a Sunday Movie Spectacular,
but I'll warn you in advance that unless you want to spend between .99
and $2.99 for an Amazon stream or a month or two rooting around the
remainder bin, you'll want to install this tool (Free YouTube Downloader) and grab a copy for yourself.  It comes with
the usual load of bloatware, so choose 'custom install' and decline
where possible.  View on YouTube, Share, copy the http:// code and paste it in the downloader, hit the downward pointing arrow on the right.

The rest of the audience felt it was terrifically uplifting and funny, but it left me kind of sad and depressed.

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The Breakfast Club (Let us pray with Aphrodite)

Welcome to The Breakfast Club! We're a disorganized group of rebel lefties who hang out and chat if and when we're not too hungover  we've been bailed out we're not too exhausted from last night's (CENSORED) the caffeine kicks in. Join us every weekday morning at 9am (ET) and weekend morning at 10:30am (ET) to talk about current news and our boring lives and to make fun of LaEscapee! If we are ever running late, it's PhilJD's fault.

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When Chapters Collide: a mash-up

What would happen if two of my selected writings collided?

I thought I might as well see. One of the pieces (Of the Greataway) is from a story I had been working on roughly called The Weavemothers. The other (On the Thickness of Skin) was an entry in my now defunct feature called Café Discovery that once appeared on Sundays at Docudharma.

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The Breakfast Club (The Writing on the Walls)

Welcome to The Breakfast Club! We're a disorganized group of rebel lefties who hang out and chat if and when we're not too hungover  we've been bailed out we're not too exhausted from last night's (CENSORED) the caffeine kicks in. Join us every weekday morning at 9am (ET) and
weekend morning at 10:30am (ET) to talk about current news and our
boring lives and to make fun of LaEscapee! If we are ever running late,
it's PhilJD's fault.
 photo 807561379_e6771a7c8e_zps7668d00e.jpg
    

This Day in History

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

    

Astronaut John Glenn becomes the first American in
orbit; the Rhode Island nightclub fire; Actor Sydney Poitier born; Tara
Lipinski becomes the youngest gold medalist in the Winter Olympics.

Breakfast Tunes

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

    

Something to Think about over Coffee Prozac

 

The Utopia Of My Childhood

I just don't get this belief that the everything was safe in the good old days but now everything is dangerous. Not actually true.

Atrios


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Jump Shift?

Star Womb photo egg21.gifFrom late January of 2008, I bring another of the conjunctive pieces I shall include in my book. It was originally published at Docudharma.

This graphic is named Star Womb

Phase in. Phase out. Out of Phase.

Phase shift.

Some people shift paradigms. I shift points of view. Sometimes I have felt forced to do so. Sometimes I choose to do so intentionally. Sometimes I have taken a chance at shifting willingly.

I've come to the fork in the road, so to speak. (Insert Slauson Cutoff joke here) Do I step on the transporter or not? Do I scatter my atoms across the universe?

Mitosis? Cytokinesis? Meiosis?

Will these metaphors never cease?

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The Breakfast Club (Chicken Heart)

 
breakfast beers photo breakfastbeers.jpgSo this is a story I've told before but not with such detail and outrage.

The essence of the scientific method is that theories are disprovable (by contradictory experimental
results) and that experiments are replicable.  The reason I call
Economics no more than Shamen dancing around a corpse shaking rattles is
that the theories are not disprovable (for the most part,
since like all social sciences experiments to test the conclusion are
impossible to arrange and only observation is feasable) and when
examining the results of natural experiments (oh, say austerity in
Greece) they are shown to be in direct contradiction of the predicted results.

It's worse than that he's dead Jim, Dead Jim, DEAD!

Not that this keeps the Shamen from shaking their rattles and dancing.  It's FAITH you see and when we're talking about WASP Christianity the firm belief
that the elect, favored by God and predestined before birth to sit at
his side on the big rock candy moutain in the sky by and by, display the
benefits of God's grace even in this mortal coil.

That's why the rich are rich you know.  They deserve it.  And all you all expecting divine justice like some kind of
after-life lottery don't really understand that 'so above as it is
below' and the opiate of justice is merely to numb your pain as you
suffer and die for the benefit of your betters.

You think God wants to hang with you?  You wouldn't know a pickle
fork (two tines) from a dessert fork (three) unless a servant laid them
out in the correct order (always good to wait until you can see what
your host uses).

Which brings us to the Chicken Heart.  This is why I'm conflicted about Cosby.

 

 

My dear readers, you may disagree with my opinions, object to my
theories, but when I talk about science I insist that my experiments are
reproducible and consistent.

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Delirium

It was 2008. I had been quite ill. But it was a Friday, which meant I had a column due at Docudharma.

The graphic is named Wallpaper. It was created in the wayback.

The fever burns. Whether the fever of the head or the heart, it burns.

Temperature rising,
it isn't surprising
she certainly can can-can

--Irving Berlin

Twenty-four hours being bathed in fire, spiked with the occasional five minutes of shaking from being chilled to the bone and frequent bouts of coughing which rendered breathing problematic have passed. Memories linger and are recorded. Ideas joust with each other for primacy. Words erupt.

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