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What is it with salad anyway? Why haven’t we evolved yet to crave the things that are actually healthy for us? This makes no sense to me right now, sitting here staring at the remainder of the $10 salad I made at Collegetown Bagels and wishing it were made of Salt & Fresh Ground Pepper Kettle Chips instead and wishing I didn’t wish this and oh the snake it just keeps on eating its tail don’t it.
The reality of potato chips does our bodies zero good, except for all the tastiness. And don’t start telling me about how it helps me run away from tigers and chase woolly mammoths and flee from my tribal enemies across the veldt and escape the aliens building the pyramids, because I’m not buying it anymore. Get with it already, cells, and adjust to my modern-day eating habits! I eat for pleasure now, not survival. Well you know. Still survival, yes, I don’t want anyone in celestial power thinking I’m taking that for granted. But how do we evolve to cook saffron cream sauces and delectable curries but not to process them better for less heart-solidifying cholesterolification? Why don’t I crave raw spinach instead of gooey sweet-sauced pizza topped with blue cheese dressing? Why could I digest milk for the first 33 years of my life but no more? Why does my neighbor “Old Crackles” smell like beans?
This brings me to something I’ve actually wondered about for years. We have these brains inside our heads, right. (Or so I’m told! Ha ha!) Our brains control everything our bodies do. Therefore our brains already know everything needed about biology and anatomical chemistry and other terms I could also maybe make up while sitting here but really you get my drift. So why do we need to study these things to learn about them? We’ve got the libraries already in our craniums. Somewhere there surely must be a switch that turns the lights on in the stacks.
I bet the aliens can process the chips just fine there inside their skinny stupid space suits, and that’s why they built the pyramids the way they did, and it was actually to be storage for chips well into the space future, and where’s my hovercraft, you pyramid-building chip-eating veldt-chasing space jerks?
Yeah. I thought so.
Well something got lost in translation somewhere betwixt "Here is your court date, Moonkee" and The Day I Actually See If I Can Have the Ticket Reduced/Dismissed. Helpful and generous amie Melissa accompanied me on the 90-minute drive to Clifton Springs for the 7 p.m. court date. We got to our last turn on Mapquest at about 6:30, looking for Manchester Town Court in a not terribly populated area but a stone's throw from the Thruway (irony!), and stopped at the Manchester Town Hall on presumption that there probably wouldn't be two Manchester Anythings. Indeed it had the same address as the court, so OK, we parked.
This cat was hungry during this time period
The doors were locked, and its office hours said whatever-4:30, but there were two cars with people inside waiting, and no one inside the cars was making out, esp. as there was only one person apiece, so it would have had to be some kind of Ralph Malph thing, and if that's your thing that's OK, I'm just saying, they looked like they were waiting for something and knew what they were waiting for. Then a Forrester pulled up with a lawyerly/judgely fellow inside, and we knew we were in business. We also both knew we had to do some business and hoped the restrooms would be open.
Court takes up about half the town hall's non-bathroom/non-hallway/non-barn-photo-archive facilities. There was a court clerk, a bailiff (I assumed), and the judge, who probably owns his own tractor. Not a slight, just noticing! No Kind Officer M***seng, either, which made me so happy, till ...
When I got called up, I asked about reduction/dismissal, and was told I'd have to come back to talk to the DA. Would Feb. 18 work?
Ugh, you mean it's not OVER?
This also means I may have to actually think and prepare.
I have to go to traffic court tomorrow night. The claim by Mr. CoppyPants is that I was going 84 on the Thruway in the Town of Manchester. My counter is that because I am made of magic, I am not bound by such laws of "physics" and "speed" and "why didn't I have some peanut butter cookies on hand for just such an occasion," and also we have entered the Time of Hope and Unicorns, so, really, why are we doing this again? And does Clifton Springs have a good diner? Someone had better be able to direct us to some pannycakes is all I'm saying.
"Anders, stop quoting Dylan lyrics at me." -- Kurt
If you don't want to be spoiled about Battlestar Galactica, please to stop the reading now and go look you at some LOL cats.
I have to begin with this, which annoyed me before, with the final episode of whatever season it was last year: Who the hell approaches an unknown planet with their entire fleet in tow (peacefully, that is)? A planet they believe to be fully populated? Didn't a surprise fleet, oh, I don't know, BLOW UP YOUR WHOLE TWELVE WORLDS JUST A FEW YEARS AGO? The fact that they weren’t shot out of the sky should have been their first clue that something was amiss.
There is speculation that Dee still was/is actually a cylon. I don’t contest that possibility, but I do propose another explanation for why she fastened on to the jacks like that: the simple destruction of hope. All her dreams for earth. All her dreams with Lee. The scene with the Agathons might serve to point to a sinking sadness, the deep sense of loss of something she had always expected to have –- since childhood, since sitting on that rocking horse –- and now, now it’s been blown away by two wars, too many to bear any longer. First losing Caprica, then Lee, then Earth on top of it, the Earth some never thought they’d find and then, THEN, there, Oh my gods, it’s REAL? The equation adds up too, too easily.
Also, considering what we now know about this Earth and its cylons, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out there are more cylons in the fleet, except that obviously we won’t, because there are only 13, so say we all.
As for Ellen: Her very survival was a surprise to many, and her story was unverified by anyone. Better questions might be about why there are 13, five very old and eight rather new, and, the biggie: Exactly how are humans different from cylons anyway? Why do humans keep insisting the skinjobs are machines? Even when the Eights keep breaking their programming?
It could also explain why Ellen was with Saul in the first place, since he wasn’t exactly going anywhere for a large part of his life. Though he might simply have been a good port in a storm for her. ... Or she loved him. There's that.
And then, Starbuck. Dude. Why wasn’t her hair burned with the rest of her? Is it magic hair? IS HER HAIR A CYLON?
Nine episodes to explore and explain all this. It’s not enough.
What else? There is more. Like why Olmos can’t play drunk.
Also, I like Anders. There, I said it.
But most importantly, what did you think?
Four days, 11 hours and 36 minutes till Battlestar's beginning of the end.
TO ACCOMPLISH THIS YEAR:- Acquire hover car and investigate other hover-related technology
- Nurture relationship with The Tanning Bed. Set tan example for pasty hippie town
- Avoid Wyclef Jean. Remember last funk-fueled shooting spree
- Start gum bank in move to be better friend
- MORE LIME
- Avoid Manilow. Remember last sob-induced shooting spree
- Find one who will perform piscine matrimony (start with Unitarians)
- Do Not Cry when Mother glares disapprovingly at eyes
- Look into changing eye color
- Remember Pluto
- Discover perfect shade of lavender
- More Sabado Gigante!
- BELIEVE IN THE MONKEY KING
