Pecanny Pinery
Catherine and Arthur, twins,
Cush’ning those prostrate on
Knees that won’t bend,

Fetched cafeteria,
Aiding those ailing from
Hypoglycemia:
Truly a friend.

No, it’s Jupina.
(Though I still think I prefer Orangina for that type of drink.)

A: Because she’s not tall enough.
Q: What’s the other reason why Barbara Mikulski wouldn’t get this joke?

I discovered a couple weeks ago that "rather accurate" is an oxymoron, but I can't take advantage of this. It's so long after the 60 Minutes scandal that everyone else has forgotten about it, and with the timing wrong it’s not funny enough to try. I had hoped that CBS would have some election-night snafu that would give me an opportunity to share this gem, but alas. What can one do with expired humor?

So between losing (again) and finding my key I came across an empty new journal lying abandoned by a trashcan, which just had to be acquired. However, I’m not exactly sure what to do with the thing. Too perfectionistic to begin to commit irrevocably by staining the bright white pages, I can always just strew them through Away Messages if I do want to record my private thoughts.

Fiddler on the Roof : Latin :: Tevye’s 2 youngest daughters : 4th and 5th declensions

The kleptomania mentioned in an earlier Away Message referred to the Election Judge button I absconded with. I wanted some piece of memorabilia, and without any “I Voted” stickers, the only other thing to take was a fistful of chad, for St. Louis used *those* Votomatic voting machines.

And speaking of stealing and elections, I am even more in favor of Electronic Voting Machines after having served with an alternative. Granted, this is the extreme straw man; but chad aside, the ease of overvoting is ridiculous, and it is not possible for it to be easier to (alleged worst case situation) code false smart-cards than it is to Xerox any of the so many pieces of paper that must impossibly be obsessively tracked, to say nothing of how awful checking for write-ins is.

A huge rush at the morning with a couple spikes in the day, and 88-90% turnout- then practically no one for the final 2 hours? We kept awaiting the huge pre-closing evening rush, until 10 minutes before closing, when we realized it wasn’t happening. So what do poll workers do when it gets slow? Bingo!

There are 6 check-in judges {A-C, D-G, H-K, L-P, Q-S (me for half the day), T-Z}, each with a voter register. By 5 most pages were nearly full, many needing only one more voter. (Absentee balloted were free spaces.) There was a 4-way tie with 2 bingos each with 30 minutes left, and a voter total of 2399; yet no one else came except for a girl who ran up at 7:02 as I was removing the outer signs, who I forget to ask the last name of.

Yay truancy, yay kleptomania, and one more cheer for apathy.

[Okay, that is probably the most unclear way of stating what I'm feeling, but rather than rephrase I'll just refer to the I don't care sentiment.]

Lots of anecdotes, but so tired that I don’t care and so don’t care that I’m tired.

I don't suppose anyone planning to vote around lunchtime might accidentally leave a slice of pizza in the voting booth? Midafternoon snacks would be just as appreciated.

If it didn't violate the election law I must uphold I would also be receptive to arguments against writing in Jon Stewart for President. Because, honestly, I think I would trust him most to lead the country.

“Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday...”
Halloween was as New Year’s Eve was, except with BLT instead of da ba dee da ba daa.

According to Zeno of Elea, halfway done with my paper on Greek Mathematics.
“...the wisdom of a fool won't set you free...”

A bowdlerized single will at least end the SI drought, and considering how tasteless my entries were I suppose I should be grateful that I got anything. Forget deciding whether to chance submitting a misogynistic joke to the Empress; what does one do after she doesn’t get it and requests an explanation?

[Okay, Doughnut Guy seems doable. If anyone has something like an apron, give me a call.]

Any simple good last-minute ideas for a Halloween costume which aren’t based on Rocky Horror Picture Show?

Hold, the phone.

(Though maybe Carnahan and Gore then won't call back?)

Speaking of sweeps: can I pick a great week to stop rooting for the Red Sox? With the kindergarten era preference for the color red and the regular tickets to see the Orioles dominated having been long dissipated, was it so awful to desire a home team I could actually root for?

“Another life awaits me…”
7-hour bus rides are easily undertaken for the wonders of nostalgia with old friends moved away years ago. The reminiscing, the endless chess and card games, the admiration of feline antics, the lunches, the lazy weekends, the glimpsing of new lives with the photographing of old ones: random touches of the eternal past incidentally swept together.
“…for I am not your broom.”

I believe I might have just read the best book I have ever read: Umberto Eco’s “Baudolino”. It is the type of book that reading changes how one reads books. After every chapter, page, and paragraph I had to remind myself, convince myself, repeat to myself that it was not true, so that by the end of the novel I was questioning what truth itself was.

Like other Eco novels, however, it does have a steep period of struggle where the reader must invest himself until the can’t-put-it-down suddenly catches: ~250, I estimate.

Vander wasn't bilt in a day.

If Cardinals/Astros Game 7 didn’t have enough pressure, now the winner will take the World Series. The Astros offer Texas/Massachusetts in a contest appropriate enough for 2004; however, the Cardinals offer me a rootable home team. This is an easy call.

Hypothetically: an hour into a no-buyin poker tournament with about the initial 3250 remaining, you hold AT offsuit. Preflop the 50-100 blinds are raised 1500 by the left-hand player (who holds ~2000 more than you­), which you call after everyone else folds. Flop is 987 rainbow. How do you play?