DJ's Detritus

A Creative Writing Class Dropout's Last Refuge

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

In The News

I just got back from Rome, where I was pounding Sapporos with my buddy Shoichi Nakagawa, the ex-finance minister of Japan. He handed in his resignation to his boss, Prime Minster Taro Aso. If I were Shoichi, I would have said, “Taro, don’t be such an Aso.”

Did you hear about Texas scam artist R. Allen Stanford? The SEC has nailed him in an $8 billion fraud case. You know John Law is going to come down on this guy like a ton of bricks. There’s a good chance that Stanford, aka L’il Bernie, will spend up to several months under house arrest at his sprawling mansion.

Roland Burris can’t get his story straight. He may be on his way out, serving even less than the 150 days Pierre Salinger put in as U.S. Senator from my adopted home state of California.

GM is on the ropes. It’s not your father’s Cadillac.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Exec Redux

I’ve updated my links now that The Exec has a new blog. His last one sat idle for 11 months. That didn’t deter me from checking it two or three times daily but I’m glad he has some new stuff up now. As far as the old one, dump that to make room on a server for someone else’s blather.

Because of our checkered history, some may think that I harbor ill feelings towards The Exec for re-entering the blogosphere. Nothing could be further from the truth. I welcome him back into the brotherhood with relish, and a little mustard. My post of 1/22/08 was written in a moment of pique. Truth be told, it was a personal issue that had put me in a foul mood. My wife had informed me that day that “I’m just not that into you”. Fortunately she quickly changed her mind and has remained crazy about me ever since.

4M has just sent me a timely article. It bodes well for The Exec and me.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/183666

I got a comment from my compadre The Wolverine on my last post. It brought me back to the days when we worked together and would skulk about afterwards. One of our haunts was The Little Shamrock on Lincoln in SF, where we quaffed pints of Guinness and lounged on the old armchairs. I remember being there the night Reagan was doing his mea culpa on the Iran/Contra affair. Yeah, it happened on your watch because you were taking a nap.

The Wolv and I would also spend quality time at his place. I’d thumb through his collection of 33s and always pull out Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. He was pretty tolerant but one time he blew a gasket and told me not to play it. I said, “Wolv, let me be myself, and shine with my own light”. That’s when he ejected me from his Irving St. manse. I guess I should have put on some Arthur Prysock.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

Catch a Clue

Earlier this week I was down in the cafeteria at work, toasting up a bagel. The toasters are a little antiquated so it takes some time. As I waited, a pregnant woman walks up to the bagel box and picks up several, one by one, with the tongs, and proceeds to sniff them. Now I understand that pregnancy can cause women to be very sensitive to smells. But c’mon! Grab a couple slices of white bread and call it breakfast.

Is it just me or is there really a preponderance of whiny singers on the radio these days? A few months ago there was a tune that began with a lamentable “I’m not a perfect person”. Far from it pal. Please find another career. Some other clown is asking for permission to “shine with my own light”. I got your light right here and I’m shining it on the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on your way out.

Through some research, I’ve determined that snuggies are made out of shamwows stitched together.