you can tattoo a pig. it's still a pig.

i for one am totally offended by obama's remark, 'you can put lipstick on a pig. it's still a pig'--for it has leaked that palin's lip color is actually a tattoo! and while some people are put-off by this, i find it impressive. clearly the woman has lived an arduous life: second-rate education, third-rate 'political' career in a state mostly inhabited by 'men' (my favorite alaska moment: drinking at 'long dick's halfway inn'), and deprivation of lipstick.

insomniacs, take heed

last week i suffered from a most dreadful insomnia, which prevented me from posting. by the way, thanks for the outpouring of concern, eg, messages, emails, poems (though it must be said, most were godawful; WHALES, i love you all, but it seems you're largely illiterate). at any rate, my apologies for any disruption/related trauma.

dear (aspiring) readers, have you ever had insomnia? there have been studies, comparing judgment, coordination, etc., between the sleep-deprived and the drunk, and the sleep-deprived invariably fared worse, so, essentially, i was very drunk all last week. but--just like drunkenness--it served me well. eg, i found people more attractive, and had less inhibitions and self-control. now it may have been hellish (irritability, eye circles, general misery), and i may have come dangerously close to losing job (not having shown up), but i learned something: poof! just like that, insomnia lowered my expectations and standards (sans booze!). and if that isn't enough to drive you into arms de man, there's evidence that sex is a sleep aid. but, naturally, i needed no convincing, and even at one point became downright giddy, which brings me to my forewarning:

WHALES, if you find yourself in bed with a man whilst sleep-deprived and become giddy, do not laugh at the penis. NEVER laugh at the penis. well, not unless said penis is given name AND comical voice. then by all means, laugh (WHALES 101, ladies--WHALES 101). if you do feel close to laughter, picture something unfunny. do not, as is shown in movies, etc., imagine your grandmother in her underwear. (my grandmother was a hoot in purple briefs.)

analyze this, part deux

since i endeavor to tell ANYONE my dreams (see 'analyze this: (no) hopes and dreams'), i share with you my latest:

i am on a mountaintop and my little brother wants to ski down a dangerous slope but no one around has the skill or courage to accompany him. i come forward and say i'll take him. i feel very heroic. i go to strap on my skis, but some rascal has taped them together, and he is coming to beat me up, too. incensed--and scared--i beat the crap out of him. (did i mention i have super powers?) anyway, i really beat him to pulp. (it is quite gruesome.) the incident incites an angry mob of rascal-friends, and i have to run away. then, because they are everywhere, i fly away. i am new to flying, but soon i am like a rocket, circling the earth. i land somewhere far away under a humongous tree. there appears preacher followed by preacher, of varying faiths, bellowing an old adage or warning. every time one would arrive, i'd go to fly away, but the tree would freeze over with thick rime. i'd break through the branches and ice, and then the next preacher would appear, everything icing over again. by the time i escape, i'm bruised and bloody. now i'm back at school and i'm a fat little boy, cleaning out the ice box. i think this is what i must have been doing all this time. i tell my mom that my best friend tortured me with his new slingshot to explain my bruises/bloodiness. my friend is not happy about this but understands. i just want to go home and play cards with mom and the neighbor-girl.

now, you may think this dream is about power, responsibility, fallibility, and mining gems in chores mundane--but as president of WHALES, i knew instantly its meaning: give the fat little guy a chance.