From the Say What!?! blog — transcript from an actual deposition:

DEFENSE ATTORNEY: May it please the Court. Your Honor. This Mr. Fred Head is trying to make me look like a bad guy. But there’s two sides to every question, and every coin you’ve got has got a back and front to it … Now, what the lawyer said, what I’m telling you right now and what he told you right now, you don’t believe. You don’t have to believe. It’s lawyer’s talk, so to speak.

And every special issue is going to, that the Court submits to you, is going to be prefaced ordinarily by, “Do you find from a preponderance of the evidence.” The Court, I think, will give you a definition of a preponderance of the evidence. I think it’s called the greater weight of incredible testimony. Incredible evidence. Now, just that Mr. Head says it’s true doesn’t mean it is.

This represents the quality of my thinking skills right now. I’m fer rill.

Fink out (to the kitchen for aspirin and coffee, in that order)

Fiends, the Fink is much obliged and humbled by the emails, text messages and comment posts of encouragement regarding the recent disappointment. Thanks also to Seamus and Hannah (#1 Son and Jakey’s Mom) for bringing Jake over to see me on Monday night. It was a daymaker. Anyway, I heart you all.

It is no secret to those who know me that the word “failure” is particularly unpalatable to me. It is difficult for me to let bygones be bygones, or learn from the experience, and all the other clichés which I find decidedly useless. The failure was my own. Gotta prepare better next time is all.

I had a nightmare (or five) last night. You shall now interpret, lest I throw you back in the dungeon.

I was in someone’s office, looking at set design ideas (is Greg now in my nightmares?), when I heard a horrible blowing and raining sound outside. I must have been in Florida or something, because when I looked out the window, I saw palm trees, bending almost to the breaking point against the wind. All of a sudden, I’m no longer in an office, but in a hotel room. My cell phone is buzzing somewhere, but I can’t find it. When I finally do, there’s someone on the other end (I know not who), shouting, “Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? There’s a hurricane outside!”

And that is all. If I had a beard, I would stroke it at this juncture. Lars, please do the honor on my behalf.

As always, I covet your articulate and compendious thoughts.

Fink out.

That’s me. Passed my theory exam, but failed the other two. Back to the books.

Yark.

Random Neuron Firings

Ya know…there are two words that should not be uttered in the same sentence right now. The two words are Baghdad and tourists. Tourists? In Baghdad? Now? Yep.

OK, so they were “pilgrims.” Whatever. I’m not knocking pilgrimages, or a person’s right to pilgrim. But to bring your children into a city where people regularly, and with impunity, blow themselves up at any random time and place… don’t you think it might be wiser to visit other shrines for awhile? I dunno. As my Grandma Johnson used to say, “No one asked me my opinion about it, so I’ll just shut my mouth.”

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Enjoyed watching the Cavs win last night. (We won’t talk about the Indians.) Side note: Detroit Pistons coach Michael Curry reminds me of Yul Brynner.

I never much attributed phrases like “artistry” to basketball plays. But last night I saw some incredible feats. LeBron — overhyped and in love with himself as he is — can play ball. Holy…

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My fiend Jennie sent me this video yesterday. I was moved, and by the end, totally choked up. It is easy for non-arts people (just like any excluded group in any area of endeavor) to miss the point of how important music and dance are to human existence — not to mention the part they have played since antiquity. This video, which includes people of all ages and ability levels coming together in an Antwerp, Belgium train station, drives that point home. It is amazing to watch.

All right, time to get started on rhythm section parts. I hate weekends. I really, really hate them.

Fink out.

PS:

Yesterday, a friend and I snarked at each other on the phone. Then we apologized and all was well.

Notice that the word “snark” is only one letter away from “snarl.” I think that’s by design. But where did the word “snark” come from? You might think it’s a catchphrase invented by Kool Kids (or as Bando would say, the “tragically hip”) who operate heavily sponsored entertainment blog sites. Well, not so fast there, Speedy.

• The Hunting of the Snark was a nonsensical poem written by Lewis Carroll — in 1874.
• Math fun: a snark is a “graph in which every vertex has three neighbors, and the edges cannot be colored by three colors without two edges of the same color meeting at a point.” Riiiight. Point being — the study of snarks was begun in 1880 by some geometry Poindexter named Peter Tait.
• The SM-62 Snark Rocket was a cruise missile with a nuclear warhead, used by the US Strategic Air Command from 1958 until 1961.
• Novelist Jack London wrote The Cruise of the Snark, about a houseboat he lived on from 1906-1908. (He actually stole the name from Lewis Carroll.)

So there’s a snarky lesson for you. I like “snark,” because it’s a noun, a verb, an adjective. Multi-purpose, the way language should be.

Here is some snark. And here. (Does anyone else remember GeoCities and Tripod? I had sites on both.) Truly though, the real snarkiness is in the comments that follow. Some made me laff out loud, like the guy who referred to GeoCities as a “leper colony for the worst websites ever made.” HA. But the comments that blow the needle off the snark scale are the ones that attack the writer. Yikes. But hey, if the fluffy pink house slipper fits…

Now go have yourself a day.

FO