The revelry of Indigenous People's Day proved too much for me. My major finding for the weekend? Alcohol has nothing on triptophan, hangoverwise, and the two of them together are a deadly combination.
Since I'm sure many of you out there in rumorland are suffering from similar distress--gastric, gossipy, and otherwise--I'm serving up a diet portion this afternoon. Bon appetit, and remember what Julia Child said on television when she dropped the turkey on the floor: "Fortunately, when this happens there's usually no one else in the kitchen." So just dust off these morning-after tidbits and chow down.
As my favorite lesbian comic likes to say, marriage is a great
institution--but who wants to be in an institution? Whether it wants to or
not, Microsoft has wound up in L'Institut
Smithsonian, where an exhibit on computer bugs features the 1995
book The Windows 95 Bug Collection. All those Mac fans who wish
Windows were
Like moths to a flame, Microsoft's enemies are now doing something
really dangerous: singing. The sun has risen on a veritable geek chorus that's warbling the
praises of CEO Scott against Big Bad Bill in the continuing saga of
mudslinging Java
warriors. All that's left to do is pray for a quick and peaceful resolution
of the conflict before we're faced with Java! The Musical! (Or how
about an Israeli version: Java Nagilah!) Meanwhile, the online tune
link'd above may be write-once-run-anywhere, but on Vermel's Mac it sounds
like a stylus grinding up singed moth guts.
Many of my readers apparently spent the weekend giving
no thanks for subminimal service from their email providers. All that triptophan
seems to have trickled down into AOL's newsgroups, which were reportedly
inaccessible the day after the holiday. Steve Case should tell his minions
to lay off the warm milk and turkey leftovers.
Despite my extra 40 pounds and sluggish demeanor, I'm checking my email frequently. Send me your sauciest rumors, and you'll be gravy in my book.