Let the inauguratin' begin

Turns out I'll be one of the millions of people elbowing their way through our nation's capital tomorrow. How cool is that? Check back for a recap!

Demolition Dutch Point

In April. I went on a self-guided tour of Dutch Point House.

Now look what's become of it.

(Great pics, Nicholas Lopez.)

I'm being stalked by the NYT

It's hard to believe, but in the past two weeks, the New York Times has run a feature about the closing of the Bristol Press in my hometown of Bristol, Conn. and an op-ed about the American machine, told from a roadside motel in Manteca, Calif.

One of the cities, a writer writes, is a "small, imperfect city, where the clocks and watches of America were once made, where General Motors once produced its ball bearings, where ESPN is based, and where springs - yes, unheralded yet essential customized springs - are produced"; the other, a land in transition, where "the faint, puckering odor of a distant industrial dairy" butts up against the "housing wasteland of San Joaquin County."

Not glowing recommendations on either, clearly - but I still feel a little bit famous.

Bye bye, puppyhood

While I wasn't looking, Bailey went and got all growed up. No more crate, no more puppy food, no more pooping in the house. Now that she's coming up on the big O-N-E, it seems like a good time to point out that I have the cutest damn dog in the whole, wide world.

Now if only she'd learn to wash the dishes.

ohmygod it'ssocold

photo swiped from Chicagoist

I wouldn't say that -4 F temperatures are fun, exactly ... but it does feel kind of "Little House on the Prairie" to bundle up and stumble into the wind-whipping night. It helps that Chicagoans stop trying to impress anyone when the weather drops into single digits. With three pairs of pants on and our heads mummy-wrapped in scarves, we're a stumbling, snotty-nosed, grumbling mess. It's like a game of Marco Polo on a day like this, only we're yelling, "Oh! My! God!"

I'm not complaining ... yet. For now, it's still an adventure.

* that's -28 F with the wind chill

An accordian player speaks

This is sweet.

"Editor,

I have about an hour at Kmart before I go back to work playing my accordion as I have for the past five years for Salvation Army of which I have been doing for the past two years.

I want to thank Kmart for their help and I want to also thank the public for all their girls and for the chance to show a little of Gods love to them.

We at Salvation Army this year have seen more acts of Love than any Christmas I can recall. This has been real hard to do in the area of my Health, but it's not my last. I love doing this.

The one thing I want people to do is not just gave money or gifts but show some Love.

Turn off that TV and when that Boy Friend or Husband comes home show some Love.

And don’t put off Love, my mom and dad are both gone. It’s been very hard this year, but I Thank God for all the time I spent on them. I would also tell my girlfriend Sharie, you don’t have things forever.

God Bless and Thank You for letting me play my accordion for you all.

D.B.
Manteca"

Lady-killing never sounded so good

If ever there were a match made in heaven, I think it's Kristen Hersh and murder ballads. I mean, how many women can sing about getting strangled underwater and actually sound like they're getting strangled underwater?

Hersh, who has one of my favorite voices ever, played last night at the Old Town School of Folk Music, one of my favorite places ever. I knew nothing about the tour, so I didn't know she'd be singing a lineup of Appalachian folk songs peppered with - yes! - old Throwing Muses and songs from her 14-year-old "Hips and Makers." Perfect.

Old Appalachian tunes - which she picked up as a kid from her Southern Baptist grandparents - are full of Jesus and wife-killing, she explained. Indeed, I learned a valuable lesson: Never take a walk with a man by a river - not even if he seems nice. Take "Banks of the Ohio," for example. This poor woman gets stabbed, pulled by her hair down an embankment and drowned, all for rejecting some guy's marriage proposal. Sort of a 19th century "97 Bonnie and Clyde," but without the trunk.

Black Friday

Black Friday at Wal-Mart, ca. 2006

A Wal-Mart employee in Valley Stream, N.Y. was trampled to death at 4:55 a.m. Friday after a mob of 2,000 bargain-crazed shoppers charged through the store's doors.

After paramedics failed to revive 34-year-old Jdimytai Damour, who lay lifeless in front of the automatic doors, they tried to clear the store. The shoppers refused to leave and kept on shopping, reported the Associated Press. "I've been on line since yesterday morning," one reportedly yelled.

The store was reopened at 1 p.m.

Read the whole story here.

Thanksgiving, Sarah Palin style

This week Gov. Sarah Palin paid a visit to a Wasilla turkey farm, where she pardoned a bird and took some really easy questions from a reporter. How could this go wrong, you ask? Well, just so happens Palin did her interview in front of a bloodbath.

Yup, in very clear view of the camera, some bloody dude in a baseball cap is lobbing off turkeys' heads and waiting for their tremors to subside, with the help of some big bird-killing funnel. The funny thing is, according to MSNBC, the camera crew noticed the backdrop beforehand and asked Palin if she wanted to move. Her reply: "No worries."

I'm sorry, but that's f-ing awesome. It almost made me like the crazy lady for a minute. Then I remembered that her badassness, while admirable, is way outweighed by ass-suckery and wrongness and evil. Enjoy.

Big Red

Move over, G-Ma. There's a new big, red love in my life.