OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

Every Thursday, LYRC opens up to you. Tell us what's on your mind.
Enjoy. [THIS IS AN AUTOMATED POST.]

Glenn Ford 1916–2006

He was Eddie's father and Superman's father. That's a hard-working actor.

Moment of silence for Glenn Ford.

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

Every Thursday, LYRC opens up to you. Tell us what's on your mind.
Enjoy. [THIS IS AN AUTOMATED POST.]

Celebrate Our Engagement

Lesley and I will celebrate our engagement this Saturday night at Lemmings, 1850 North Damen, at 9 pm. Come one, come all.

My Engagement, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Diamonds

I'm lucky to have such a pragmatic fiancee. She ultimately wanted a simple ring. No large diamonds, just a simple band ringed with small diamonds. (It wasn't her first choice, and how she came to this choice, well, you'll have to ask her.)

My grandfather ("Grandaddy," as I call him) is a jeweler in Lynchburg, VA. I, of course, called him, described what I wanted. We found exactly the right setting, something I knew she would love.

So Grandaddy got the ring together and sent it to me. In the mail. No FedEx or UPS, nothing with a tracking number. He mailed it. Granted, it was insured and certified and all that, but there was no way to ever know exactly where the ring was at any given time. He shipped it on August 8. It didn't arrive until August 16.

Lesley is nearly impossible to surprise. She always knows what her birthday presents will be. I'm also, well, kind of a pussy, so it's pretty easy to get information out of me. Of course she had her suspicions of when the ring was coming. By Tuesday the 15th, when the ring had not yet arrived, I was in a foul mood. I was finally asked vehemently to explain what was wrong with my disposition, so the story came out about how Grandaddy had send the ring.

The ring finally arrived the next day to much fanfare at the office. So how do I keep any sort of attempt at surprising her? I decide I already had it — I keep up the story that the ring is lost in the mail. By Thursday night, the story was that the ring had not yet arrive, and I was so angry that I had asked Grandaddy to put together another one. I even shared this whole story with her best friend Julie in the off chance that she would share it with Lesley. Of course, Lesley kind of didn't buy it ("None of this makes any sense," she repeated.) I did have some affect, though; I was convincing enough to make her angry at my Grandaddy. My stomach was in knots with all of the lying I had to do.

Here was the plan: tell her a cab is coming to pick us up at 7:30 AM on Friday to take us to the airport. Unbeknownst to her, I've called a limo. The proposal may not be much of a surprise anymore, but the limo would be. And then I'd propose in the limo.

And then even THAT got screwed up.

At 6:30 AM, the phone rings. I jump out of bed. It's the limo driver informing me that he may be running a bit late. "Okay, thank you." I tried to speak as generically as possible.

Now I'm in a quandary. On the one hand, I can't let Lesley know about the limo. On the other hand, she has to know that the timing of our morning may be a little off. I crawl back into bed.

"Who was that?"

"Uh, our... ride is running a little late."

"...Cab companies don't call if they're running late."

Shit.

"Look, I decided to call a limo instead of a taxi."
"Why?"

Double shit. The inflection of her voice and that look in her eye, so unmistakable even in the dim light trickling through the bedroom blinds, tells me that my cover is completely blown. I say the only thing I can possibly think of:

"I can't tell you."

She yells, "I knew it!"

And then we don't speak for 45 minutes.

Ready to leave for the airport, Lesley sits on the back porch smoking. I join her, and light up a cigarette myself. Supposedly, I quit a few months ago, though I cheat every once in a while.

"Nervous about something?" she asks, weighted with a tinge of coyness.

"Maybe."

Silence as we finish our cigarettes.

She breaks that silence. "This is really weird."

It's time. There's no way to hold this back any longer. For months we've been talking about getting engaged. We've practically planned our wedding already; we just haven't formalized it because, y'know, we weren't engaged. Any production, any fanfare would be upstaged by the loud shatter of the broken suspense. I could read her mind: Don't make a big deal. I love you. Just do it already.

"Then let's not make it weird anymore."

There was a little clowning around involving tying my shoes. Finally, I got down on one knee, right there on the back porch.

I started crying. As I mentioned above, I'm a bit of a pussy.

I gave my little speech that I had been rehearsing for a few days, a speech that ended with, "Will you marry me?"

She said yes, I slipped on the ring, and voila. I'm finally engaged. Felt like a year passed between that first call to my Granddaddy and "Yes."

The punchline: Proposing on the back porch was a much better option than the original plan. The limo I ordered was suggested to me by the receptionist at our office. Apparently, this is a limo service our office uses. Therefore, I had no qualms with calling them — if we use it for clients, then it must be simple and classy. Right? Wrong. "Simple" and "classy" are the worst two words I could use to describe this limo. A stretch French vanilla Chrysler with obsequious 24-inch chrome rims filled with video screens and neon touches and blasting soul and funk music. It was Jay-Z's limo. Not the right place for a proposal, but a great place for a good laugh after all of the strange emotions we had been through in the previous hour. And I'll be damned if I'm not calling that limo for my Bachelor Party.

Hey Lesley! We're engaged! And I love you.

I Just Got Engaged!

This morning, I proposed to my girlfriend. (Remember her?)

Oh, and she said yes.

So now I have something I've never had before: a fiancee. How about that?

I'm at the airport right now, so I'll try to post more later tonight.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Snakes on a Plane is finally here. The internet hoopla is now free to dispense with itself. I found the conclusion to this CNN Article somewhat fitting:

The original blogger, [Josh] Friedman, declined to be interviewed for this article and gave up blogging about "Snakes" for a while, instead writing about his struggles with cancer.

"Look, people. I get it. I'm a great disappointment to you all. We had a few giggles, shared some digital sushi and Diet Coke, we made New Line an extra fifty million dollars and had a good time doing it," he recently wrote. "Cancer can only kill you but a funny blog entry can make Dr. Pepper shoot from your nose."

But can a shot of Dr. Pepper kill a motherfucking snake?

Defining Folly Through Character

Anna Diggs Taylor ruled the NSA Wiretapping Program Unconstitutional. Sayeth Crooks and Liars: "Get ready for Judge Taylor to be assaulted by the right." Sayeth Assrocket at PowerLine:

The ACLU was able to get its case before Judge Taylor, a 1979 Jimmy Carter appointee who was described by the Detroit Free Press as "a liberal with Democratic roots."

It is interesting, and possibly significant, that Judge Taylor was involved in a judge-shopping scandal in connection with her effort to preserve race discrimination at the University of Michigan, where her husband is a regent.

It's hardly necessary to smear right wingers when they're so very adept at smearing themselves.

UPDATE: I was reading through the opinion and thought that this section was pretty decent.

Defendants assert that they cannot defend this case without the exposure of state secrets. This court disagrees. The Bush Administration has repeatedly told the general public that there is a valid basis in law for the TSP [Terrorist Surveillance Program]. Further, Defendants have contended that the President has the authority under the UAMF and the Constitution to authorize the continued use of the TSP. Defendants have supported these arguments without revealing or relying on any classified information. Indeed, the court has reviewed the classified information and is of the opinion that this information is not necessary to any viable defense of the TSP. Defendants have presented support for the argument that "it.. is well-established that the President may exercise his statutory and constitutional authority to gather intelligence information about foreign enemies." Defendants cite to various sources to support this position. Consequently, the court finds the Defendants' argument that they cannot defend this case without the use of classified information to be disingenuous and without merit.

This speaks directly to that old – and idiotic – defense put forth by the administration that their behavior hinged on a secret "legal opinion" that couldn't be divulged for purposes of either national security or executive privilege. Balderdash.

Fine, we'll change the name of your party, too.

Media Matters is pointing out that the latest GOP double-speak phrase is Democrat Party instead of the proper Democratic Party. It's one of those fascinating, subtle changes that evil geniuses like Frank "Death Tax" Luntz* dream up all the time.

So I think we should retaliate in kind. For at least the rest of the year, I will refer to the Republican Party as the [something else] Party on this blog, in conversation, and in letters-to-the-editor.

While the Fascist Party has a nice ring to it — a ring of truth — I'm thinking we should dub them the Lemon Party. After all, a considerable contingent of the GOP is a bunch of old guys interested only in pleasing each other.

Any other suggestions?

*Not that Frank Luntz had anything to do with this change, as far as I know.

Blogged with Flock

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

Every Thursday, LYRC opens up to you. Tell us what's on your mind.
Enjoy. [THIS IS AN AUTOMATED POST.]

Poor Choice of Words, I'd say.

I think we all agree that it's crazy enough that 10 years later, a suspect is being held "in connection with" JonBenet Ramsey's strangulation. I think it's even crazier, given that JonBenet was strangled, how poorly the Ramsey's attorney chose her words (emphasis added):

The Ramsey's family attorney Lin Wood said the Ramseys learned about the suspect a least a month before JonBenet's mother, Patsy Ramsey, died of cancer in June."It's been a very long 10 years, and I'm just sorry Patsy isn't here for me to hug her neck," Ms Wood said.

Blogged with Flock

Bruno Kirby 1949–2006

One of those actors who you'd see in something, turn to your spouse/companion/pet, and say, "Where else have I seen that guy? I love that guy." He was one of those great working actors that I've always admired.

Moment of silence for Bruno Kirby.





























(Thanks for the tip, Steven.)

Mike Douglas 1925–2006

Used to be that guests weren't surrounded by handlers and media-savvy coaches preventing their clients from taking the rope to hang themselves. Used to be competition wasn't so fierce that ratings could be ignored occasionally and a high-profile platform could be provided to the right voice. Used to be a time when a single talkshow wasn't lost in the din of a million others. Hell, there used to be a time when Roger Ailes worked on a show that changed the world in a positive way. Sad, really.

Moment of silence for Mike Douglas.

The Perfect Chili

A Really Good Point about Liquids on Planes

Here's an interesting point: if we have to keep explosive liquids off of planes, thus excluding ALL liquids from planes, don't you think such liquids would need to be disposed of properly?

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY

Get to it...

OPEN THREAD THURSDAY AFTERNOON

I can't wait until this Open Thread Thursday thing is automated. (Wink.)

Unleash Your Self-Righteous Anger

Today's lesson: You can entertain millions of people worldwide. You can create thousands of jobs. You can build a successful international career and become a beloved member of your community. However, if you drive drunk and blow your top about Jews… fuck you to hell.

There's no such thing as a disproportionate response when it comes to such matters.