True Blood worth watching again? Surely not?

There is no easy way to say this. I hated seasons three and especially four of the HBO television series True Blood. In fact, the only reason I even bothered with season five can be summed up with the name Anna Paquin. I am not exaggerating when I say that Anna is in a rare class of actor (along with the like of Sir Ian McKellen, Sir Patrick Stuart, and Michael Fassbender) whom I could watch sitting in a plain chair against a white background, reading the ‘phone book.

Relevance: how getting more of it can be tragic

Two years ago, if you told me that three fourths of the lineup that recorded eight albums and defined the musical style that would provide the soundtrack to my life would record and release a new album, I would have told you I would believe it only when I saw it.

When things avoid intention, part one: Semantics, and shame

If you are reading this, then take it as proof positive of two things. One, the attempt to put an end to my existence that was promised for a certain date did not go ahead or quite as planned. Exactly what happened is irrelevant. The important point is that I was not found dead.

Stereotyping part fifty million.

Another big problem I have with the autistic civil rights movement in its current incarnation is that one group seems to believe its view of itself should be applied to all groups. A good example of this in recent months is a publication called Loud Hands. You see, there is a stereotype, based largely on diagnostic criteria and psychologist writing, that has it that autistic individuals rock about like badly-made chairs or wave their hands about like a six year old who has watched too many rap star videos.

Semantics matter. Semantics can be exceptionally important.

It seems no matter how much I try to leave this subject alone, the issue of word choice and how it can impact in ways that the politically correct clearly never gave a stuff about keeps coming back to haunt me. Being so linguistically inclined that one can read at what you jokers call an adult level at age three has that sad effect, I suppose. But lately, the proclamations by defenders of so-called person-first language that it is merely a matter of semantics have me shaking my head.

Being a President requires balls. The proverbial kind, I mean.

So, as I often do, I went looking around for examples of other peoples’ writings. I do not know quite how I came across this article on Sad Bastard Bar, but I am glad I did. In it, The Bastard, as they call themselves, talks a lot about the buzz that has been going around about the “debate” that U.S. President Barack Obama supposedly lost. Let us leave aside for a moment the fact that a victory obtained by lying so hard that your opponent will have months’ worth of material to hit you over the head with is what the expression Pyrrhic Victory was invented for.

Reflections on life, death, and celebrity

Just like regular guys in real-life, celebrities are reported dead all of the time. How these deaths are reported is a fascinating subject in and of itself. For instance, when Frank Zappa died from complications of advanced prostate cancer in 1993, the “oh, by the way” manner in which his death was reported by the media outlets available to me at the time rocked me to the core. I was absolutely perplexed because they were talking about a man whose music continually said to me “it is not just okay to think, it is your civil duty“ in such an off-hand, who-cares way.