A Thanksgiving reflection

It's that time of the year to count our blessings.

Many years ago, I was stuck in perhaps the worst job ever, working for someone who quite literally drove people insane. (Really--I'm not making this up.) One morning, upon answering the phone, I had this conversation:

Me: Good morning. Factoid and Blister.*

Woman: I need to refill my Valium prescription.

Me: I'm sorry, you have the wrong number.

Woman [screaming]: I WANT MY VALIUM!!!

So, what am I thankful for this year? I'm thankful I'm not that woman.

To all my legions of loyal readers--yes, all ten of you--may you have a happy, healthy Thanksgiving, and may your turkey be stuffed with Valium. I hear it goes great with cranberry sauce.

Oh, and to all my new readers in Canada: Sorry, fellas, you jumped the gun and celebrated T-day a month ago, so no Valium for you. If you're good, maybe for Christmas.

*Company name changed to protect the guilty.

The new TV math

Harvey Fierstein plus

Linda Blair (while possessed) divided by

Fran Drescher equals

MSNBC anchor Rita Cosby

The first time I saw Rita Cosby on MSNBC, I thought: That poor woman, having to appear on air while getting over a horrible bronchial infection! But now I realize it's her actual voice. Amazing.

Why are you here again?

Recent searches that stranded visitors on TVB:

Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912
Hotel Lawanda
short people have no reason to live
dressing up like a pop star the easy way
banging head against wall
what shall we do with the drunken sailor
Christmas is pain
drunken sailor and Reagan
chief misappropriates funds
how much does a 500 pound gorilla brain way [sic]
christmas songs written by jews
what is Stacy Haiduk doing now
santaland diaries i'm going to have you killed fired
angelina jolie senator harkin
his prosthetic hook
pauly dinah shore
bush quotes verbatim by comedians
what would groucho do?
do political leaders feel guilty?

Plus there's all the image searches, which have gotten oddly prevalent lately: the Aflac duck, Karl Rove, and Count Chocula. (Hmm. All I need is a headline, and there's a Handy Visual Guide.) But the most people have come looking for a bag of money with a $ on it, though I haven't used that piece of art for a long time. The thing is, I can't figure out what keyword they're using to get here.)

The rest of China's 9 gazillion citizens can, presumably, go Cheney themselves

On Sunday morning, [President Bush] underscored his concerns about China's crackdown on religion by attending a service at the Gangwashi Church, one of the few state-approved and state-monitored congregations in the country. That visit was a highly symbolic one: His huge motorcade--more than 50 cars--took him to the church, off an alley near Tiananmen Square. He took part in a traditional Protestant service and signed the guest book with the words, "May God bless the Christians of China." --The New York Times

The Velvet Blog: Live!

Well, sort of. I'll be appearing at the Eclectic Cafe in Bay Shore, N.Y., on Dec. 10, reading one of David Sedaris's warped holiday tales, "The SantaLand Diaries."

But be sure to book those hotel rooms early. (Ha! I crack me up.)

PS: I admit my head shot was taken, um, about 7 years ago. Be prepared to see a bit more gray in the beard. (Hey, it's a nice photo and I'm not going to waste it. Perhaps I should have it artificially aged, like the police do with photos of children who've been missing a long time. Anyway, I once acted in a play starring a guy who was quite bald, and he had a full head of hair in his lobby photo. It's a theater tradition.)

Handy Visual GuideTM for distinguishing among two completely useless things and a really great place you can bury stuff

Tree stump

President Bush

A hole in the ground

Nothing to do this weekend?

Go to Pickle Fest! There's the pickle juice drinking contest! The pickle toss! Music from not just one or two, but many different groups! Prizes, prizes, prizes! And LOTS and LOTS of food! With extra pickles!!!

God Is My Codependent, who runs the Ten-Foot Poll, lives nearby and can surely put you up for the night.

And, here--enjoy this picture of a pickle dressed like a pirate. Why? Because.

Oh, what the heck--it's my blog, and I can bore you if I want to

I know slide shows of other people's vacations can be painfully dull.

Sorry.

Quebec City at dusk:



We went to a few concerts held inside a church called St. Roch. There was some rather eerie lighting in there for the shows--I didn't tweak this at all:



Also in the church:



A light wreath on the outside of a market in Montreal:



Same wreath after playing around with color. Kind of freaky:



I love my new digital camera!

Shall I bore you with vacation photos?

Well, I'll just share this one, from Quebec City, because I really like it:

Not guilty

I've always had a problem with the concept of the guilty pleasure. There's very little I like that I actually feel guilty about. The horrible films of Edward D. Wood? A pleasure--they make me laugh. Really, is there a film funnier than Plan 9 From Outer Space?

My fondness for certain '70s pop that some might call schlock? Again, I feel no guilt. I like Seals & Crofts. Yeah, some of their hits were way saccharine, but so what? A number of their album cuts were actually quite beautiful, and the session players on their LPs were top-notch. (Not long ago, I was surprised as hell when radio surfing to find that a popular hip-hop song of recent vintage was built around a sample of the bass hook from an obscure S&C album track. There was no mistaking it, and I'm probably the only person to notice.) Anyway, no guilt trip there.

But when I heard the phrase "guilty pleasure" a couple of times recently, I realized I do have a couple. Two, actually.

--White Castle hamburgers. There simply is no defending these things. They bear only the slightest resemblance to the substance we call "food." The buns make Wonder bread look like the finest French croissant. The meat--is it meat? I'm not sure--is a pale little gray slab. The onions are overwhelming. The whole thing is sort of ... well, damp is the best way I can describe it. And yet ... and yet ... once every three months or so I HAVE to go to White Castle. I'm drawn to it like a certain world leader is drawn to a bottle of scotch when his poll numbers are down.

--America's Next Top Model. I hate reality shows. Really, I do. But I've somehow gotten sucked into this weekly parade of the beautiful leading the stupid. It has nothing to recommend about it. I can actually feel my brain cells dying as I watch. But every Wednesday night at 8, there I am in front of the TV, guilty as charged.

So, I've confessed. How about you? What do you really feel guilty about? Please no "I love disco"-type admissions--that's just too easy.


White Castle hamburgers

America's Next Top Model

Whoops, sorry--that's backward.

I'm back

How much did you miss me?