Tag Archives: things that make me sad

Blargh, Blog

So, it turns out that graduate school is not conducive to blogging.

It’s not because grad school life is busy (though it sometimes is) or because writing for class leaves me less than eager to write anything else during my down time (though it sometimes does). It’s because, since I started school full-time, I no longer seem to have anything interesting to share with y’all. I’ve lost track of current events, music, and the more interesting corners of the interwebs as I’ve baked my brain into an academic jelly that, much like the meat-filled Jell-O casserole below, is filled with all sorts of weird crap that I suspect we’d all rather not talk about too much.

If sadness were a food.

Don’t get me wrong. I love school. I just haven’t quite figured out how to do it full-time while maintaining the fun, non-school things that make me feel like a relatively functional member of the greater universe. But I will! In the meantime, please accept my horrible picture of a 1960s meat and gelatin casserole as a conciliatory offering.

(Photo courtesy of Lileks.com’s “The Institute of Regrettable Cheer,” which is quite possibly my favorite site on THE ENTIRE INTERNET. If you’ve never wasted full mornings or afternoons perusing its pages of epically bad American kitsch, consider this tip Conciliatory Offer #2.)


Fuck you, Maine

See also: Happy Homophobe Day!

Daily Dose of Angry

Instant Angry: Read this account of a recent town hall meeting on health care.

I mean, fuck.

Obama-as-Hitler posters? Someone yelling at the disabled lady whose insurance dropped her that “I shouldn’t have to pay for your health care”?

Are we really this ugly a nation?

things that make me sad, #71

Today at the pool I got super psyched when it looked like I was going to lap the dude swimming next to me. Then we got to the end of our lanes and I saw he was about 80.

“we’re society’s only protection”

And it’s too bad, too, ’cause I’m not sure these are gonna help us much when Alan Moore goes apeshit on our asses:


quitting time, pt. 2

Next on the chopping block, Bravo reality tv.

First Project Runway went to hell in a handbasket, and now this travesty of a Top Chef finale.

I guess I always knew these shows were just as schlocky as all the other reality tv stuff I pretend to be too good for, but for a while they at least maintained a veneer of authenticity. Last night was just lame, though. And sad. A truly lovely personality succumbed to a fatal flaw. A consistently formidable competitor’s dominant past performances were deemed irrelevant. And, as a result, the chef who just barely won was not the best (or second best) chef in the finale.

(He also happens, despite all his assertions that he’s “a nice guy,” to be a genuine prick. That’s really secondary, but it doesn’t make it sit any better.)

I’ve decided that, if dumb tv makes me sad instead of happy, it really isn’t worth watching. So I’m done.