Kelly Bishop is my hero(ine). Kelly Bishop--or as she came to be known as in SkipLiztalk, Elizabeth Bishop (love's the boy stood on the burning deck!)--was often the very best thing about the Gilmore Girls. She was sometimes overwritten, but she never gave, she never caved, she never winked. The closest she came to letting that character bend in authentic ways was in episodes such as the one they reran today, in which she sat limply on Lorelai's couch, trying to come to grips with the fact that her usefulness as a corporate cocktail party-giving wife was ending. She shoulda gotten bagsfuls of Emmys for that work. It's hard to watch episodes like the one today...they're startin to get really good, ramping up to the psycho-sextet with Logan that was so fabulously realized and emotionally authentic in the beginning but flopped about like a fish at the end.

It's been a long, rather maudlin week, I have tons of things I "have to write about" (blogger credo), we'll see if I make it through them, and this becomes an unwieldy, overlong entry, or stays just a laundry list of confusing shorthand.

News: Competition for occupation of the Very Fur-Covered Ottoman continues. I enjoy this bit of documentation (left) because cat #2 is handling the stress by stickin her tongue out.

Had a lovely and cozy Valentine's Day evening at the H/O last week, where friend MB is now a bartenderess. It was that beautiful early bar-just-opened time of the evening (cf Raymond Chandler) that I love so much, plus it was cold and snowy outside and warm within and we had fun making up Valentine's drinks involving alcohols that were red or pink (I wanted to call one Because It Is Bitter and Because It Is My Heart), although the signature drink another friend came up with was too fruity and nice for that. Also: other friends very thoughtfully went and got pizza for dinner from Piece, and I dunno if it was the fact that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, the aperitifs, the cold night, where I was in my winter Chicago pizza consumption cycle, or what, but DAMN that was good pizza, exactly how I think pizza should be. The kind with terribly hot, soupy sauce slurping under the cheese and that crucial oreganic (I am making up this word, I don't care) fumé. Honestly, one of my thoughts while marauding through 4 delicious slices was...I guess I probably should move back to the east coast. This is what pizza should taste like, to me. Good golly, it was good.

I can't stop humming the massively derivative but super-fun new Snoop song and watching the video. The vocoder/talkbox...the wendylisas...the Cameo-like break....luv it. I like how Snoop moves. One of my fav little bits on TV recently was watching him do the Tighten Up on his reality show as he came off the Conan show (that band is so fun sometimes...will never forget their swing version of the Mozart requiem). Also watching him do this clever little Dylan riff at a Jaz Z benefit.

Listening to Snoop usually segues into a search for more Pharrell beats, and today I was reminded of the N*E*R*D song, "Provider." R.I.P. Brad R. and all that (weird timing). I really like that sad macho song.

The NIU story has been very sad here, very close. Also...we now have our test case, yes? No real warning signs, fastest possible response. And still: sad, horrid carnage of a kind that nobody should have to get used to, but our youth has. So what (to ask the news question) will we do about it? Anything? When oh when will second amendment discussion evolve past the reductive, finger-pointing, static, non responsibility-taking... I don't know if you really can put Pandora back in that guncase, but it is way too easy to kill people and it shouldn't be.

This is the day, for some reason, that this election really started to seem tough. I mean...McCain. I personally think its still winnable, and for the right reasons, but yeah, damn. Totally tightrope. Two superficials the Vegas oddsmakers must be noticing: height (6" difference), and age. McCain looks sort of Napoleonic next to Obama.

Writers might like to think they are beloved for their prose, but I will tell you, two years later, the search for what information really keeps the tens of internet-querying googlers coming back to this blog, over and over (courtesy sitemeter):
- Is Cl*ve Pe*rs* gay?
- Where can I get the naked photos of Lainie Kazan?
- What maker are Pa*la De*n's w*dding r*ngs?
And now, having listed them, this will officially never stop. Ah well.

That's all for now. More minutiae later. If you are reading this, please think good thoughts for my grandmother AGT and my sister RGT.