Spot the Problems

For all I know, this story is true, but if it is, this woman went about spilling the beans in the worst possible way. More intriguing than her claim that her father is the Zodiac killer is the fact that there are dozens of people who claim to know his identity, and even that they are related to him. Unless they are an unusually forgetful or dimwitted crew (who don't realize or remember their connections to one another), they can't ALL be the Number One Witness for the Prosecution. So what drives people to claim "knowledge" about the Zodiac killer with a certainty that warrants trying to shout down another crazy person during her press conference? Words escape me. 

My Second Run at a Holy Hullabaloos Review

The book Holy Hullabaloos hasn't even been released yet (and my pre-ordered copy certainly hasn't shipped yet), but there's no reason I can't review the book sight unseen. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't wait to read a book, or see a movie, to have an opinion about it. 

But I will be upfront here about what I'm basing this review on. I will be relying on (1) the author's blog and the outtakes from the book reported thereon; (2) "Customers Who Bought Related Items Also Bought" list from Amazon; (3) the cover illustration of the book and (4) tales my husband has told me about the author over the past 17 years. I will not reference or rely on (a) the book itself or (b) my personal interactions with the author.

Holy Hullabaloos is a chuckle-a-chapter examination of the intersection of religious conviction and spiritual ambivalence that is articulated throughout American culture and federal law. Prof. Wexler does double-duty as a humorist and law-professor-to-the-masses without wading into this emotional topic over his head. Anyone who gives passing notice to John Fante* will be richly rewarded by Wexler's forays throughout the American religious geography. Followers of Wexler's creative career will be disheartened that he didn't paint the cover himself; a regular reader of his blog will likely know to fault his editors for this artistic oversight. Regardless of your religious beliefs, there's no doubt that you will enjoy this stimulating summer read more than the Broadway musical Cats.

(Actual review to follow)

* I have no idea what this means.

My First Run at a Holy Hullabaloos Review.

I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats.

My Life Is Now Perfect

I got all the forms to join my union yesterday, and after sending them off today, confirmed on the internets that I am a member of David Simon's old local, Washington Baltimore Newpaper Guild, CWA Local 32035. My life is now complete.

Completely Torn

Liam learned how to ride without training wheels about 2 weeks ago, and he is already bat-shit fast and agile on his bike. No fear. SOOO, can I show him this, or is that just bad parenting?

h/t Eric.

Loan Repayment Underway

Remember how I was boosting Kiva a few months ago? Through Kiva, I made a $25 loan to a woman in Nigeria who has a food stall and needed $550 to increase her inventory. Her first payment of $51 was due May 15 but she made her payment early and I got $3.12, which I can either cash out or re-lend. Pretty awesome, eh? Please visit Kiva to learn more about microlending, and maybe find someone you'd like to lend $25 to. Thanks.

Nicest Thing I've Read In A Long Time

From the NYT Magazine:

Deborah Solomon: I hear you just became engaged. True?

Joyce Carol Oates: To say how I feel about my engagement to Charles Gross, who is in the psychology department and the Neuroscience Institute at Princeton, is not really possible in such a small space.

A Little Background on the Sculpture

I've gotten a couple of emails about the anatomical correctness of "How Humans Live" and I wanted to give y'all a little context for the work. L noticed this sculpture at the SFMOMA a few weeks ago and he and his dad went back to check it out this weekend. After seeing it a second time, he wanted to make it himself. Thus, our sculpture. It was up on the kids' bedroom wall, but not surprisingly, little brother declared it to be a "scary ghost" and I had to take it down. L wants to send it to the art museum, but (a) the penis won't stay one and (b) I don't know who to direct it to at the Museum. 

Liam's sculpture

I helped Liam make this today. Its called "how humans live".

Easter Egg Mystery

I just fired up the boiling water for the eggs when I noticed that the standard Paas egg dye colors are Yellow, Orange, Red, Teal and Denim. That's right, DENIM. Unacceptable. I mean, I can barely stomach teal, but denim crosses a line. Is blue trademarked by Cadbury, or by the Easter Bunny himself, or by the International Federation of Turdi Migratorii (that's the plural latin for American Robin, be-yatches)?

Whatever the answer, I will now imagine that 20% of our eggs are in little tiny jean suits. Isn't that sad?

Red Sox Mania

Here's how bad it is.* I am sufficiently en-fanned to have (a) gotten B the MLB Extra Innings package on cable and didn't even link it to any sort of gift-giving event** and (b) I understand 89% of the jokes in this video.  

* Or good it is, for my husband. 

** It might get the retro-active birthday treatment if I don't think of anything else to get him. 

Helpful Movie Review

In case you are wondering whether Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail is still funny (as I recently wondered), let me help you out here. After the first half hour, its really not. Except for the French John Cleese ("I fart in your general direction."), it all sort of peters out after the first 35 minutes. At minute 57, you will turn off the movie, and then start wondering how something that's only 1.5 hours long, can seem so, well, LONG.

This suggests that other things I did when I was 14 may also no longer be enjoyable. But rather than test that question, I am going to avoid Tetris, making out at U2's Rattle and Hum and getting endless soda refills at Pizza Hut in Morristown, NJ, until they close.