"He suggested that it would be even more satisfying to see him forced to go through airport security lines again and again for the rest of his very long life, every moment of it broadcast on public television."

Add to that with a slow elderly person in front of him and a screaming baby behind him the entire time......

I'd sentence him to a have an eternity of dinners with Ms. Musette, Springs1, her husband Springs2 and my Uncle Larry. They would be served foie gras. The server would repeatedly forget the ranch dressing and use the wrong menu when working up the bill.

That should interrupt the rythym of their eating.

Don't forget that he needs to wear calf-high Doc Martins that he has to take off every time.

I'm so glad we have a topic-less blog today. Does any one have any suggestions for great english-friendly restaraunts in Paris? I'm going for the first time at the end of October and I would love to have meals to remember.

GrayGirl, every restaurant in Paris will be somewhat english-friendly, watch the Bourdaine episode in Paris for specific reccomendations. Although I've never been (yet), my sister and many friends have gone and had no trouble communicating with the locals who also don't hate American's (just our government).

the rythym of their eating

Geeze...not even close...rhythm, is what I meant.

Penquin dust, I wanty penquin dust
bring me penquin dust

Wow, what a great post. I expect it will generate a lot of comments. It could become The Only Post You'll Ever Need.

Mr. Gray's question about whether we can create topics on this blog brings up the fundamental difference between a web log (blog) and a message board.

A web log has an owner/author and that person controls the content.

A message board is pretty much a free-for-all where comments appear immediately. The boards have admin folks to keep it civil (mostly).

The last thing I expected when I trotted over to the sandbox was to see my name juxtaposed with the word, "memorial." Sorta' like Bruce Willis in "Sixth Sense." Thanks, though, for the "anything goes" post although -- having made the suggestion -- I'll be darned if I can think of a new topic.

OK, Hue and Laura. Fill us in. Or, quite possibly, fill me in. Penguin dust?

Bucky, you're not the only one who is doing some head scratching over penguin dust. Say what?

Bucky and Dahlink -- "penguin dust" comes from the poem Marriage, by Gregory Corso, one of the leading lights of the Beat Generation. The full text of the poem is available here.

I didn't think penguins stood around long enough to get dusty.

My empty Penguin Mint tins do get dusty, though.

Ah...the Beat Generation. So there IS someone older than me on here...

hmpstd - In this office, with the close IT watch, I can't open your link and, as a matter of fact, my attempt has been reported to Corporate.

Eve -- sincere apologies. I just picked a web page at random from a Google search of the poem, so I haven't a clue about what that page might trigger. (If you can do your own Google search without alerting the powers that be, you should be able to find the poem on a different web page.)

Don't know about penguin dust, but do you how MANY babies you have to press to get a pint of Baby Oil?

(There once was a Gahan Wilson cartoon showing conveyer belts of babies, diapered bottoms up, going in all directions and leading to a large enclosure whose output was labeled "Baby Oil.")

haven't a clue about what that page might trigger

Probably the reference to, oh wait...how do I describe it here without gettting D@L banned by Eve's hyper-sensitive corporate net-nanny... Let's just say it had something to do with having pleasure without the help of others.

Oh oh oh , I wanna play (hand raised and waving frantically). I've got the kickerftor your husband's and Anonymous' punishment for Osama: all of the security personnel in this never-ending line are beautiful lesbians whose uniforms are sleeveless shirts and Daisy Mae shorts. And (drum roll, please)...every time he goes through the line he has to be strip-searched. Think THAT would fix his little red wagon?

"... the time has come the Walrus said
to talk of many things
of seas and ships
and sealing wax of
......"

... cabbages and kings, right?

Sister Rosebud, are you being "Anonymous" again?

Having pleasure without the help of others? You mean midnight snacks?

Having pleasure without the help of others? You mean midnight snacks?

Sure, that's exactly what I meant. :-)

Lesbians in Daisy Mae shorts? We do not wear such things, and we are not amused.

We're cranky enough without dressing ridiculously (Birkenstocks, painter pants, flannel shirts and rainbow suspenders are *not* ridiculous) and being made to strip search men.

(Yes, I'm riffing on the notorious lesbian lack of a sense of humour here. So, don't take me seriously.)

notorious lesbian lack of a sense of humour here.

I had heard that was the case, but all the lesbians I know have a wonderful sense of humor.

...dressing ridiculously (Birkenstocks...

Whoaaaa...I love my Birks.

EL...maybe one or two Fridays. I've got a couple "in the can". One addresses this very topic.

Rosebud, that is because laughing is the only way to survive us.

birkenstocks and flannel shirts are for straight hippie chicks, Lissa. Everybody knows that! (sorry straight hippie chicks - joking!)

Joyce, not in the mid-70's. Then we were all wearing Birkies, painter pants, rainbow suspenders and flannel shirts.

The straight hippie chicks had moved on to disco or something by then.

Bucky, I love my Birkies, too. And my flannel shirts. I'm still furious at those grunge idiots stealing my look!

Yes, Lissa, you are right but now the look has been stolen by every counter culture movement in the country. You can't tell by the clothes, you've got to have the "dar".

I know, Joyce. Seeing the kids today wearing what I wore when I was a kid is always a bit odd. Lately, it is the scarves around the neck a certain way.

As for the gaydar, I've always failed there. If Meg and Chris aren't on the record shelf, I'm clueless.