My eyes are all red (ba dah duh dum DOMP)

My nerves are all jumpy (ba dah duh dum DOMP)
I didn't get no rest (ba dah duh dum DOMP)
Today's gonna be bumpy (ba dah duh dum DOMP)
I got dem lowdown, throwdown, slowdown, blowed-down, baby wouldn't sleep last night blues.

Thankyew. Thank yewverrrrmuch. Y'all can come see me in Clarksdale, Mississippi, all week.

I had trouble getting to sleep, while the progeny had trouble staying asleep, so I'm typing behind eyes that feel grainier than a 110-film picture. I still have some of those old pictures, and one of these days, when Jacob is complaining that his satellite-TV-equipped, nuclear-powered BlackBerry just hosed one of the pictures he shot with its badillion-pixel camera, I'm going to show those pictures to him. Then I'm going to tell him how we used to think it was downright spiffy that you took pictures from a fixed-focus camera with less resolution than the Middle East, illuminated by a flash cube that usually operated correctly about as often as Washington does, then you sent off your pictures somewhere, and waited a few days for them to get back. Then he'll just laugh and say he doesn't care, and he'll just shake his head and go back to looking at nursing home brochures.

An aside to Pres. Obama, who I'm sure reads this blog every morning: Seriously, I counted 336 "uh"s in last night's press conference. Work on that.

I emailed a friend of mine that maybe you could compare the Facebook/MySpace/Twitter craze to the CB radio craze of the seventies, good buddy. He 10-4'ed me, then said he'd catch me on the flip side, to keep the peanut butter out of my ears and watch out for Smokey, come back. Which is to say that you have to wonder if all this isn't going to flame out at some point. Or at least suffer some burnback to where we're not all online, all the time.

That conversation reminded me of this picture. Let me hasten to add that I'm one of those being mocked in this photo, so it's not a case of me jesting at scars when I've never felt a wound (he typed, in his first and most likely last Shakesperean reference). I just think it's hilarious. And I have no idea where it came from, so if I'm trifling with somebody's reproduction rights, let me know and I'll take it down like a yokozuna sumo wrestler on Emo Phillips.


Speaking of sumo, anybody who wants to buy me this table will earn a friend for life.
I should caution, however, that in addition to my becoming your friend for life, you'll also become the target of a designing vendetta from The Lovely Missus, who will track you down and garrote you in your sleep, so weigh both effects before adding that thing to your shopping cart.

Since I thought about the CB radio days, here's the trucker's national anthem. It's Bill Fries, bka C.W. McCall, (kinda) singing "Convoy."

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