A n a r c h i c _ U n i v e r s e ®

Dear Tinovska: Disgruntled Malibu Parent

Dear Tinovska:

My wife and I are desperate. We have three gorgeous li'l pumpkins  who will be entering high school soon. One is a ninth grader, the other is a ninth grader, too. The third one is ... a ninth grader. We cannot break our anonymous status. Just let's say, for the sake of saying it, we are rich and famous.

We don't want our li'l munchkins to attend the local public school. There has been hazing in June, and there many stellar parents, more stellar than us. What should we do?

Signed,

Six-Pack Chest, Blond and Blue-Eyed

Dear Six-Pack Chest:

I'll bet you are from Missourah.  Anyway, to your three little dahlings. Your best bet would be Santa Monica-Malibu USD. First, all you'd need would be for the chi-chi bouique school here in Santa Monica to open. I am sure your money can buy three spots in an elite public school. Besides, there's the fair weather friends, a similar ecology, and this new school won't have hazing or marching band or football. It'll have poor parents like you and Pretty Gina.

Another option would be La Cañada U.S.D.  Mostly Asian students, stellar grades, lousy air. I know you are far from becoming a spacecadet or rocket scientist. How about your munchkins, how about their academic future?

The air sucks. Consider a contribution to thin out the air in La Cañada. Who knows, it might thin enough to launch an unmanned spacecraft right there at J.P.L. ? Think of it, again,

The grandeur of Rome, the glory of Greece, the recognition of your name in science!

Good luck to the five of you. May the force, ah, forget it.

Fondly,

-- Tinovska

¡ El viiiiiicio !

When I think of the so many things I did in my life out  of ignorance and reckless behavior, I don't blush but stll feel bad. The worst, coming up to this number one as years have gone by was smoking tobacco.  First, because it damaged my health. Second, it exposed others to health damages.
I started smoking like most youngsters do. A casual cigarette while going over chem notes with a student I admired who smoked Benson and Hedges, an imported brand. Is it coincidence I wheeze at the recollection? In 1969 we could smoke at school , a bizarre concept, I know.
My father was a heavy smoker, and so was my Russian-American grandma. I had hated cigarettes until I began  to like them and then not to be able to live without them. For I wouldn't go to bed without smoking a last one. i wouldn't go to  bed knowing I had run out of them. I couldn't engage in serious thinking without lighting one. Actually, without wanting to defend tobacco use, I must tell you cigarettes do enhance thinking skills, which might be why people with mental illnesses light up or students cramming light up.
Mark Twain lived a long life trying to quit. I finally quit on February 22, 2006, after many times having quit. February 22 was my grandma's birthday. The thought of having to carry oxygen with me finally sank in. I am at a point iwhere  I can't go out and be exposed to smoke and pollutants. Whn that happens I get a dry cough. No, I don't know what it means.
When I was a teacher of English as a foreign language in Brazil, I smoked in class. And I did it at USC, too. Until very recently I didn't believe in second-hand smoking damage. (Every time I use italics in a sentence I remember Poe's emphasis when telling his madman stories.)
I follow with a lot of interest Nora Volkow's research on neurotransmitters and addiction. She hopes to find a cure for addiction based on their behavior. I do, too. Addiction is a malady. Let's hope the USA government changes its policies regarding addiction from punishment to treatment. That would be a nice thought to entertain while puffing on a cig. Did I say that? Ooops!
The title of this post is a remembrance of sorts of the secretary of the last school I worked at, in which the secretary would kinda sing, "el viiicio!" every time I passed by her to go outside to smoke.

mmeorabilia straight out of the fifties. !El viiiicio!

Attention, Please: Cyberbullying; Carry On, Dudes!

Attention, please. Some idle mind(s) labeled my photos at Flickr.com as "adult." They are gone. The Flickr team assigned to my case is investigating it. I tried, quite unsuccessfully, to explain to a friend of mine why bloggers post their photos online. I am quite tired. However, as this feels like the wee hours, I will present to you my short version of a film review of 1939's ten Oscar© winner  "Gone With The Wind."
(Continue reading, please.)

Go, Go, Go, Hillary!

SMMUSD: Difference Between Tim Walker, Teacher at Lincoln

Simple, my friends. SMMUSD's Tim Walker is like divorce: the screwing you get for the screwing you got. He gets 200K, ten years of my PERS disability retirement for having screwed special ed. students and parents in SMMUSD.
Alleged molester teacher at Lincoln. He was quickly arrested after having worked for this excellent-shmecellent district for thirty years, after one girl accused him of molestation on Friday. There must be others, say da police. The bail is at one million dollars. The excellent SMMUSD hasn't pressed charges, just yet. You can keep on reading. This alleged molestation case reminds me of a disaster. Click here for more.

Just in Case You Missed This - Flamengo Champion

Sometimes the loser wins and the winner loses. I woke up from my frustration with the victory of Flamengo against Botafogo sobbing in pain. My friend Romullo Pontes predicted so. I bet on the comments of Professor Avelar I would wear the colors of Flamengo; red and black. Here is the turncoat Tina, wearing a Misook top, hair cut by Kia. Accessories: a ruby cocktail ring, H.Stern earrings, a chain with a charm, and a cross of the Languedoc region.
My uncle in Brazil must be ecstatic. Better only the second coming of Frank Sinatra. Life goes on, I had to post my tears, my photo, my chagrin. Art in back by Thaïs Oiticica, my cousin, one of many. And this is how Brazilians celebrate the noble sport of the Britons.  

Bitches Get Things Done -- Tina Fey

It is hard to cope with the loss of a parent. When Daddy passed away, on December 8, 1986, I was taking my finals and a few weeks away from my quals. He was in Brazil, the country he really loved and adopted as his own, as if he were Portuguese.  Daddy had gone to a Greek school in Ambridge, Pennsylvania.  He spoke and read and wrote Greek fluently. Learning Portuguese and Spanish was a piece of cake. He hated French; I don''t know why.  When I went back home for the first time, in our summer of 1986, I could see how much older he looked. He refused to go see a doctor, and that was that. He was 59.

Today I had to call Mommy's family and my sister to inform them about Mommy's transference from the convalescent home next to us to UCLA Santa Monica Medical Center's E.R. Mommy had shortness of breath and was taken to the E.R.  She is fine now, looking around, her usual curious self. Curiosity may have killed the cat but it is the trigger to discovery, our intellect in action.

I had been happy after getting my UCLA neurosurgeon guys back on track and the solar panel/central AC a date for repair.  It seems nowadays one has to use Bush diplomacy in order to get things done. Most people one speaks to on the phone act like they "no compreende."

Now I am blue, waiting. The doctor in charge of Mommy made it clear visitors are not welcome for the moment. I hope I can get to see her while she is cognizant. If not it wasn''t meant to be. Yesterday, while I was speaking with a friend from Sugar Hill, Harlem, she insisted I should go see my mother. She is a Queen Bitch and she was right. Older than me by twelve years, she has been through it all.

So, I "light my candles in a daze cuz I found God."  I wish Obama and Hillary would team up and end the race in a great way. English grammar teaches us the future doesn't exist. That is a heavy linguistics discussion for some other time.

Let the French Fry

I guess human differences may make for a better world; let's embrace diversity. I am a mutt myself: Russian, Greek, Portuguese, Brazilian and everything there is in Brazilian. It is known Portuguese colonizers heavily embraced (senso stricto) diverse of the people they colonized. Consequently, the people in Brazil are of all hues from blueberry black to light skin black; some with  frizzy hair, some with blue eyes. Unfortunately, the French are the kind of people who stick out like a sore thumb. They will let all around them know they are French and have opinions which inevitably oppose yours.

All the French qualities vanish when they decide to practice their social entertainment, which is to argue a point endlessly. That is socially acceptable and part of the rules of making friends in France. You'll argue with someone you just met, if you are both French, and you'll end up  kissing each other on the cheeks before leaving a bistro table. Maybe "Kiss and make up" is part of their contribution to the English language.

The French acknowledge their stubborn ways in at least two colorful expressions: Têtu comme une vache normande (stubborn as a cow) and
Têtu comme une bourrique (stubborn as a donkey). The first expression was given me by an informant from the north of France. The second I heard endlessly in the south of France, both in the southeast, Avignon, as in  the southwest, Toulouse.

Please don't ever tell a French person s/he is behaving in this socially unacceptable way here in the USA.  For some mysterious reason they don't get it. They don't get it they are in this land of social hypocrisy, the land that seeks conformity and harmony in conversation. Maybe those Puritans left us this heritage. Maybe that blends in with the American Dream. Maybe it's the E pluribus unum of the newfound nation. We will go as far as "Let's agree to disagree." That to me sounds like a f*ing oxymoron, emphasis on the moron part. Just say, "Drop it", instead. " I need to go now." Or "Can I call you later?" People in the USA wish to find common ground when they engage in conversation; they don't want to be "convinced" of an opposite point of view, unless they are wimpy boomers who end up voting for Barack Obama because their chldren told them so.

For example, you went to Malibu for a ride on a sunny afternoon. The French person in the car says something preposterous s/he read somewhere. You can say you read something else in the Pulitzer-rich Washington Post. Or go crazy on your pal and quote Bob Dylan. The French do love our pop culture; they love intellectuals.  When you arrive at your destination, say, West Zuma, an isolated beach, sit at a restaurant, to shield you from the merciless wind, help choose a faraway table. Unfortunately, you may end up sitting next to a right-wing Colombian whose family consists of four-star generals. Women don't count.  Your next-to-you table pal will drop several hints: conspiracy theories, Ann Coulter, Fox News. (Yikes!) But the more hints, the hotter your French friend becomes in a sermonizing speech against the status quo. You can gently say, "Taits-toi" . Nothing will keep your companion from going on and on about Bush and our administration's policies abroad, especially in Latin America of the 60s to 80s.

The Colombians leave; at least we get the table by the window. Just let it slide. There is more of a chance of a Scotsman to speak comprehensible English than that of a French person to admit s/he made a faux pas. After all, at te same time that they adopt the rules of politesse oblige, they cannot see or accept what my Jewish Russian grandma used to say, "Do in Rome as the Romans do."

Just look at the beautiful ocean and babes and dudes, whatever turns you on. It's another beautiful day in SoCal, filled with beautiful young people and wannabe geezers.  Your French companion unwinds and decides it's time to leave. After all, there is no one else to argue with. The scuzzy motel right before the bend to West Zuma was painted beige. What a pity. It was a beautiful moss green. The sun began to set, we are on our way to Santa Monica, and will be back to West Zuma soon. I hope so. It's a beautiful beach, nearly deserted, and the restaurant lets you breathe in the salty air of the wondrous waves of the Pacific without the wind.

It's not Ipanema, but it'll do the trick on saudade. "Chega de saudade", by Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes, performed 40 years after the Carnegie Hall show by João Gilberto and Tom Jobim at the Municipal Theater in São Paulo. You'll recognize several Brazilian musicians in the audience.
Courtesy of YouTube.

The Curse of a Viral Larangitis

There is only one other problem bigger than a sick teen at home: a sick husband at home. God bless them at school and work, staying busy. Males cannot stand pain, and are a pain in the arse when ill.

I have had F.M.S. since 1999. The pain has become impercetible to me.  My husband was really bitchy because his shoulder hurt.  Oh, poor me!

Actually, a doctor friend of mine advised I should stay away from dawgs, bitches and other pests for my sanity. That would mean taking a vacation from myself included.

Os Mutantes are recording their new album sans Arnaldo Baptista. Sérgio revealed in an interview in São Paulo how influential Sgt. Peppers was in his life. I believe one could find the whole film on YouTube.

And this is all for right now. Later!

Tomorrow I'll be back

Thanks you guys who visited, I will be back tomorrow, I guess. For nobody can tell the future, right?

Take care, I need to read about Obama's statements. I have been out of it.

I Walked Backwards in the Bathroom

I walked backwards in the bathroom. Some ribs are bruised. I must go back to bed. However, what this means walking backwards,  is that my surgery or another spinal tap must come soon.

The latest gossip on this side of Santa Monica is homes being burglarized by kids who sell subscriptions. I know, I know, would say Craig Ferguson. Did you read about the fanatic adviser to Obama who was forced into resignation? What did she call Hillary? A monster. She was not too smart to confide her opinions to a Scottish reporter. Ooops! Tomorrow in our anarchic_universe del.icio.us network links. In France all these people knitting  here in Santa Monica would be called Mal baisé( or baisée.) But that's so chauvinistic. How about a video? Voilà! Remeber Dinosaurs and Spaceships? David Wexler? This video went to SMC's Art  Mentors Program. The graffiti art was for Dr. Hugo Pedroza, the head of SAMOHI, so they say.

Nothing Worse Than a Sore Loser, Senator Obama

I understand sore throats. I've had them a lot. But a sore loser is quite a pity to watch. The Obama fanatics maybe cannot cope with sorrow or frustration. Most of them are in the age group that has had everything.  Too bad; suck on the fuzzy end of the stick, as Diamond and Wilder wrote.

Hillary's wins were awesome. They were divine. It was written that yesterday Ohians would fight snow to cast their votes for her. That Texans would drag themselves to the streets, tired from a day's work and vote Hillary Clinton.

This is a candidate who has been in the public eye for fifteen years. Now, Senator's Obama's troubles have just begun, as his friend Tony Rezko goes on trial.

My sciatica is killing me, if it's not better by Saturday I will pay a lot of money for a Chinese acupuncturist and all that other stuff. The last long crisis I had was cured in two sessions.

These are the latest two links I ahve on the results. Click here and check out this one over here. For music, check out Nialler9/blog right there in the reading list. I got to go back to bed. I leave you with a Os Mutantes song,to match the Final Fantasy Canadian MP3s available at Nialler 9.
With you, Os Mutantes singing "I Feel a Little Spaced Out/Ando Meio Desligado"-- January 2007, anniversary of São Paulo.

Dawg or Bitch?

  Dawg 
  Originally uploaded by anarchic_universe

My dawg is a real alpha dawg, kinda like Dowd. Just kidding. How do you like the SNL  stuff out there?  Too little ,too late. I have soem links form that rag, the NYT, one about Obama's friend Tony Rezko, who goes on trial pretty soon.

He is an alpha--dog. He just learned right  paw and left paw. He is vegetarian too, with a penchant for endives. Ain't  it  something? I'm writing funny like this because my son is finally reading the "arguably" USA masterpiece, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

The more I watch him,Craig Ferguson, the more I believe Craig Ferguson has been overlooked.  He is very funny. Gotta shed some pounds, buddy. That's all, not bad for a rainy evening, as we say in Brazil.

It is very unfortunate the support for Hillary is showing up so late.  Whatever.
How about a video? The Beatles, 1964, before Sir Paul looked like Angela Landsbury ;) Thanks Craig Ferguson.

My Sisters At Google: I Really Am NOT Dead, yet

Everytime I open "Anarchic_Universe" on Google, my friend, I find a notice I am shutting down the blog.  That is not true. That was a fleeting idea born out of desperation with my keyboarding problemas. Soon they will be resolved. I will go back to where I started in the computer realm, a PC.

My master's thesis is trapped in a black screen AT&T computer. It was written in LaTeX way back in 1987. It was on Paulo Freire's educational methodology, kinda en vogue at TESOL 1996. TESOL is a great  organization to belong to, its convention a dazzling event getting together teachers of English as a second or other language from all over the world.

That said, I need not say I was not Ph.D. material at the time and later we had to choose who would pile it higher and deeper. I went for my graduate course in education and he continued his long pursuit for his Ph.D. We both did things the wrong way. I have a multi-colored blog, with blogrolls, he had no one to understand his ideas. His first advisor went to live on a boat on the Seine, the second had no tenure and the third guy did take pleasure in not signing my husband's card until he re-wrote it to this guy's satisfaction, a day before graduation.

We never depended on recommendation letters. I walked into the school where I worked in L.A. and got the job hands-down. In SMMUSD, the principal knocked at my door for me to give her the data to take it to the board. The idiot who wanted to stall my husband is still at his samo-lamo job. I retired, but listen, my sisters at Google, Hillary supporters like me, I am not dead, yet.

What you'll see is intense use of Firefox and Vista, with no vista and no view, a line from "White Men Can't Jump." Unfortunately, I will be using Vista so I can use voice-recognition programs for Portuguese and for English.

Soon I'll be on a PC (a horrible thought) but that is the way the Apple bounced. They really meant it when they removed computers from Apple, Inc.

I would like to thank André Marmota, Gabriela Zago,at new URL,
Seth A. or swanksalot  at Flickr and Tom Watson, in true alphabetical order in Brazil, first name prevails. You've been really good friends, making this network quite especial.

Have a wonderful end of the year if I am not back here tomorrow. I think I wlll. Willpower is a great weapon for survival.

Alive, But Not Kicking

I've been shamefully away from Anarchic_Universe. All I can say so far is that "The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." (Mark Twain) Click for a really, really cool website on Mark Twain.

So, for more regulars readers, you may remember I was hospitalized in July. The diagnosis was intoxication by default.

Unfortunately, it didn't occur to any of the several top-notch specialists who saw me to run an M.R.I. that would be more specific about my "intoxication" problemas. Now I know they were not due to intoxication. I am considerably worse, not better. It is painful to work at the computer, to type is a snail's job, so slow and so full of errors.

I will let you know, dead or alive (Good joke) what I have as soon as the problema is properly diagnosed. It's been a flurry of idiotic and exasperating calls from Saint John's Medical Center's Billing Department. Lorraine called me twice, and my connection to Blue Cross fell thru.  My husband already went there and went to Medical Records, too. I don't work for Saint John's. But, Lawdie, these folks do seem to be very unmotivated. Lorraine complained my case had fallen on her lap. I told her to get off her seat and take my case where it should be.  This was a second call in half an hour when I asked her to call my husband Thursday at nine. "Nine p.m?" she asks. Daizah, pronounced déjà as in déjà vu, in Medical Records, was slower than molasses in winter.

This is the great work force we have to deal with at Saint John's. This is why I pay for two medical insurances.  All of this is to say tomorrow  there will be a blend of  del.icio.us links on mental health, games, politics. My friend on Sugar Hill, Harlem, needs to get her facts straight. She said Bill Clinton put 2.5 million New York  State people in prison but they counted as voters. So, you can see the mudslinging isn't only on Hillary's part.

This campaign is the diritest I have witnessed and it ain't over yet. Thanks to the readers of Anarchic_Universe, thank you folks who read the del.iciou.us links and contribute to them. I'll be back, unless Lorraine insists on calling me once again. I think I will climb in a cab in my T-shirt and underwear (ouch) and go straight to the Billing Department.

Big hugs to links and readers, in especial to Seth A. and Freaky Deaky. How can I mention Bill Clinton without mentioning the King?

1970-80s Films to Forget

Tonight we watched some gems from the Cold War era. In one, "Firefox," the Russians are portrayed as stupid Nazi-like folks who allow an American, Clint Eastwood, an experienced Nam pilot, to fly over all of the former USSR, the Urals, all over the place and hijack a very special MIG (Firefox) Jewish scientists had built (but would be used against Israel.) The accent coaching is hideous, the dialog is a disaster, the special effects are cheap, in an era when Kubrick's 2001 had been filmed already.
The purpose of the 1982 film is to glamorize an aging Clint Eastwood for him to be a tougher than tough James Bond. To my surprise, Firefox, the super-MIG the West hijacks, a mind-reading jet, Firefox, the movie, was produced, starred and directed by ... Clint Eastwood.

I'll say he came a long way.

The other film we saw, another of a bad vintage quality, was "The Out of Towners," with Sandy Denis and Jack Lemmon. She kinda repeats her whiny Honey from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf", Mike Nichols great adaptation of Edward Albee's play. Jack Lemmon, curiously reminded me of his performance in "Some Like It Hot" - the picky, detail-oriented catastrophe predicting "Jerry" or "Daphne".
In "The Out of Towners" a couple from Ohio come to NYC for the husband to have a job interview. Everything goes wrong for them. The only great quality in the aged humorless film is to remember once again the Cold War. This time, the problem is Cuba. And Hispanics, and Negroes. Let's not forget the Irish. It is funny to remember, though, a time when there were strikes and visibly more freedom of speech. However, the humor has aged badly. See it just to remember the Cuban hijackings, "Take me to Havana" -- I remember that from Spy v. Spy in Mad Magazine. The year of the film is 1970.

So, these depictions of USA politics can show you what the GOP can do for you.

Unfortunately, no links in this post due to navigator problems. I think I will give up on Apple computers.

Good morning and good day to all.

I'm Not Dead - The Day of The Dead

Today is a day, November 2, dedicated to the dead in Brazil. When I was a child, I recall listening to classical music all day long, eating fish, and watching biblical films at a small theater, filled with fleas, Polytheama -- for all in Greek.
Death indeed is for all living beings. Even inanimate obects find an end theough natural agents: erosion, storms, earthquakes...
However, I dislike visitors who play dead and don't let up, day after day.  I subscribe to the NY Times on-line.  I would like to know why the wordpress admin for an open-source blog for developers  has visited my blog three times. If it is because the entry, for developers, wasn't appropriate for a fait divers/variety news blog, I do have an e-mail you can write to. You and all of the entities related to Cori Kennedy and her story.  If she pursued a modeling career, all I can say is good-luck. Sixteen is drop-out age in California.  The journalist responsible for the Los Angeles Times story and I exchanged e-mail on this story. Shawn Hubbard, she got a promotion. I get these agencies perusing my blog about a young woman without a high school degree.
If there are any other government issues or legal issues, please don't be shy. Today is the day of the dead in Brazil, I'm having fish for lunch, better than classical music, there is no music, just the tapping of my keys. I'll spend the day studying my duties as head of anarchic universe del.icio.us, the password of which I recently recovered, I think.  Some jolly photos of Halloween, a celebration day within the family. This is a mash-up for real.  A video? Why not?  Celebrate and click for the credits of animated feature to the sound of Oingo Boingo's Dead Man's Party. Awesome.  It's now or never, oops,wrong song. Tina Oiticica Harris, comment or e-mail me,please.

In the Sisterhood of .com

Talk was cheap and categorical at a Brazilian blog. Google.com, a.k.a. http://www.google.com/ had changed its Page Ranking to punish blogs that collect too many bloglinks, especially fake reciprocal ones, a practice recognized in the Blogosphere as farming.
There were two problems in the Brazilian reasoning. First, a tool or tools created for the Brazilian blogosphere written by Brazilians linked to this blog, wouldn't recognize my Universo Anárquico while I did use these blog tools for Brazilians only. Their claim was I am not Brazilian. The real discussion lies in what a Page Ranking, Google's creation, is for.  This discussion is irrelevant to you, my reader, unless you want to know how complex a blogger's duties aside from writing are.
Page Ranking is the measure a blogger has to gauge her popularity and see how much she can make out of AdSense, one of Google's ad system, the other one being AdWorks.
Google.com is a corporation whose headquarters lie in Mountain View, California. Corporations, my friends, know no frontiers. Its center in the USA, it would be unconstitutional to discriminate people by national origin. A pearl of chauvinistic  Brazilian  thinking  went, "We don't need  Bolivian workers;  Brazilians  go to the USA to work."  It was indeed very hard to have and keep Brazilian citizenship.  Although the three former Guyanas speak languages different than Portuguese or Spanish, they are ignored in favor of a Continent whose center is in Miami.
In a survey conducted by most always excellent
Marcus Nunes about xenophobia, religion and money, the USA and Saudi Arabia held the distinguished position of theocracies pornographically rich, contrary to African countries, very faithful to their gods and horribly poor. As to xenophobia, Brazil and the USA tied at 72% distaste for foreign labor.  Here is the link to this fascinating study.
The last sentence strikes gold: 'Brazilians don't want Bolivians in the same way Americans don't want immigration.  Is it the case that chili pepper in someone's behind is another's delight?' Free translation of main idea by yours truly, once a lousy translator by trade. Are we still together?
Two countries that are rich and theocratic are the USA and Saudi Arabia. Brazil is xenophobic and so are liberal Canada and the USA. I loved Marcus' findings.  and that is where work beyond writing begins.  Say what, Tina?

A Parrot Joke

One of my favorite jokes is a clean one, sort of, from the lips of not-so-clean Blanche DuBois, Tenessee Williams needy-decadent failed-southern-aristocrat-nympho-puta.
I studied the play at the English course offered by Cambridge on the Guanabara Bay, in Rio de Janeiro. Along time, I memorized it as I passed along its tape and ideas to my own students.

In 1981 I saw "Streetcar Named Desire" at the monumental Ann Arbor, MI cinema. Here's an adaptation of it, based on my take on war today.

A heavier old lady, who loved rock and the blues, also loved her parrot. She named it "We, the People." She, the old lady, Geraldine or Daphne, didn't enjoy it when "We, the People" swore up a storm. The parrot raised Cain especially when CNN was on Lou Dobbs, "We, the People" had come from abroad without documentation, you see?

It was one of those "Iraq News" days. "We the People" was mad. 'Dine, her owner, threw a blanket over the cage so the parrot'd think it was night time.

Coffee Talk With Tina Oiticica

If you are somewhere in this world having lunch or dinner, pretend you'll be having a demitasse
of French roast coffee, with lots of sugar in it. That is the Brasileiro cafezinho.

I am taking a deep breath after a family emergency. However, tough is the life of a blogger hoping to get comments and faithful readerhip.

If you happen to have senile relatives or children, same/different, check out this link. It's from Google videos, and the clips are in order. In 1980 Bobo Network produced a show with top artists and the œuvre Vinicius de Moraes, the poet-diplomat I told you about, wrote. It's Noah's Ark. Let me get the link to it,embed it, Arca de Noé

and get some coffee. ; P))

Let's make a Peace Circle hoping restless folk get some common sense.

Later!

BP vs. Whiting, IN - Some amonia in that coffee?

By now everyone has had a chance to read the post by B 12 Solipsism on this tragic situation.  A young couple, who'd met here, go back to Whiting, buy a house.  Sometime in 2003, perhaps, BP starts buying land for its plant.  BP forces the hand of our people with nice "I'm green" propaganda.
Dado's house is reassessed and her taxes become more expensive than my Santa Monica ones.  From then on she fights.  Check the link out, please.

Is it Thursday? It's my Thursday coffee!  Gotta go.  Next, let's talk about our  findings on land and water pollution in the name of Greed.

No Recess! Microsoft's iPhone - in Australia

I received the feed of a bigtime blog in Brazil, Contraditorium.  I traveled to Google.au . That's Google Australia.

The story is tr00.  They published, well... You'll see. Click to enlarge, please.

Just Like My Mail Carrier

Unreliable, unpredictable, irresponsible, call me none of these.  I gotta run.  My mail carrier runs away from my house. :-P

However, I must acknowledge I've been non-responsive to my -4,000 links on Technorati.com.  Such is life.

Freaky Deaky- will catch up when I'm back, Velvet Howler --Where TF are the comments?  Nailler, Trojans, all of you are lacking the sound of my pompous bunda commentaries.

I'll be back.  Please click to enjoy my dear Andrea Marcovicci.

Am I Better? I Am Poorer, f'r Shure

I was hospitalized from 6/29 to 07/06/07.  The cellulitis is gone as will be almost three thou for the hospital.  Now I must be careful to avoid getting swollen.  And that is why I can't be blogging and reading blogs and shmoozing at MyBlog Log.

I hope I don't have to state this all over again.  I have tremors, muscle weakness and can fall sometimes.  These problemas are being addressed by specialists whose manners suck.  Actually, all they know is their specialization.

I saw a lymphatic system specialist who charged us 300 bucks for a ten-minute consultation, no history of the patient and declared I must go  on a diet of 1,000 cal/day. She also got it in her head I have genetic lymphodema, however that's spelled.

Then I saw a endocrinologist. She was more than petite, wearing a black Chanel  and big pearls, but her chin is soft.  So I fill out ten pages of medical information for her. I knew she'd never read them.  So she asks if I had ay surgeries, "It's on the forms, you ^$&^T**)(U&*%^ biatch!"  I'm polite, though.

I look at her hands and remember an e.e.cummings poem and say, "Not even the rain has such small hands."  She's freaked out.

What do I do for a living, I'm a blogger.

"Excuse me?"  "What is that?"

So I explain I look for dirty pictures on the Net and sacrilegeous music and hippies and drugs. That doesn't phaze her at all.

So I have an exam on Friday, piss collection all day Sunday, back to the lab on Monday for another couple of blood exams.
Life is merry in Santa Monica.  And this is my life at present.
Randy Newman sings and Austin Power provides the fun. ©Anarchic_Universe,2007 All rights reserved.

True Stories from an Ipanema Hotel

This is not a meme, but feel free to follow the lead.

Worse than an unfaithful husband is an unfaithful unsatisfactory husband. And caught in the act.

Worse than a hotel filled with surfers is the very explicit talk of surfettes into the night, going straight into your room.

Worse than a man trying to get some action is the act of refusal of the prostitute because she is a bottle blonde.  Like he is so hot himself.

Worse than a bottle blonde whore is one who has carefully bandaged her genitals and placed a little wig on them.  And the dude finds out last minute he has a he in his hands, so to speak.

Worse tha an obnoxious surfer is one who refuses to pay for services rendered and gets a bottle plus the heavy professional purse on his head, gets a gash and the hotel gets a visit from the cops.

Worse than the surfers, who go to bed early, are the Canadian exchange students talking at one a.m. sitting at the sidewalk tables. The sound goes stright into my sixth floor room. The girls giggle, which means they would love to get some.  The boys get drunk. I call the reception desk to no avail. So I am forced to go down stairs in my unappealing night gown.  I am  nice and then I send dumb blond jokes one after the other.  The boys laugh, the girls are peeved, I guess no one will get laid.

This is a photo of a "ressaca"  or a hangover of the sea, which periodically destroys the beach. A storm, if you will.