We have this old pal who has this great bar, which has a history of hosting, on holiday-weekend-Sundays when the city is otherwise half empty and half dormant, some freakishly satisfying interesting times.

This Sunday morning (doors at 9am) promises to be a "seriously?" Sunday-stunt of legend. (If not for the gaping void on the invite where "cheap bbq" typically is found, I'd already have planned my outfit.)

[..] meet our independent presidential candidate Ralph Nader, his VP running mate local badass Matt Gonzalez, and the legendary Jello Biafra AT OUR HOME BAR this Sunday morning. Come on out and show your support, ask the burning questions you want to know face to face, or at least hear what they have to say. I know it's mothers day, but if you have the option, I highly encourage you to pop your head in. Even my mom is excited, and she's a republican.

From the Nader camp: At a time our country is at war and the two major parties are calling for increased military spending, don't miss this rare opportunity to meet one of the most influential Americans of the last 50 years here in San Francisco. The Nader/Gonzalez campaign is fighting to end the war, curb corporate power and to provide health care for all. Mr. Nader will sign books and Nader/Gonzalez merchandise will be available for sale. Donations will be accepted at the door. Please bring your friends and forward widely!

But no way am I wearing the funky, funky eyepatch.
Last night, on the way home from The Super Spectacular Funtime that was the Maker Faire, I had a baffling visual SNAFU that kind of made me want to pull over but mostly made me hyperaware of my pristine driving record and how that doesn't translate into flying privileges, dammit.

This morning, things are even odder: my right pupil is dilated to about three times the diameter of my left. I look like a bifurcated Keane lemur. It's kind of cute, but kind of looks like the result of Wes Boreland and Marilyn Manson's most vehemently denied yet epic lost weekend.
I could dress it up, take it out, and start a new trend, perhaps get it in the lexicon of steampunk haberdashers [poised for world domination in 10... 9... 8...]. But I could also turn super clumsy, somewhat addled, and survival-mode-cranky in not-just-public-but-in-the-company-of-several-fabulous-supergeniuses.
So I'm staying home. Phooey.

The seal then alternated between resting on the penguin, and thrusting its pelvis, trying to insert itself, unsuccessfully. After 45 minutes the seal gave up, swam into the water and then completely ignored the bird it had just assaulted, the scientists report.

(sing it like KC and the Sunshine Band)
This weekend will be All That, and a Paucity of Playadust. Come play.

is the one that comes when you're living your dream. As long as you don't look down and see your exposed femur and start to think of it as a creepy nightmare. Here's hoping it was fast and surreal and not as scary for Adrian as for everyone else.

Jima reminds us that todays is Happy Codpiece Day!

Tomorrow: No Pants Day

deploy jazz hands

Someone - Howard Dean, say, or maybe Al or Tipper - should tell her before she embarrasses herself further: Hillary, dear, your Bush is showing.

"Considering his financial advantage, the question ought to be, why can't he close the deal?" Mrs. Clinton said outside a polling place in a northern suburb of Philadelphia. "Why can't he win in a state like this?"

Eugene: Let's get off-point. Let's just... have fun.
Dillhole: Have fun?
Eugene: What's your favorite sandwich?
Dillhole: I... I think I'll go with, uh, Roast Beef?

I am not normally a fan of teh panda. However:

and because it gives me hiccups every time I look:

Continued...

Rest in peace, Old Man.