Play that rock lead guitar. Rock it like a magikist. Rock and roll is the joyride music. Whip that snow leopard's ass. Rock Saddam Hussein's ass

A few short things.

Many of you won't recognize the lyrics from the title. Maybe someone will. They are from Wesley Willis' song Rock Saddam Hussein's Ass off of his album Fabian Road Warrior.

All of his songs end with an advertising slogan from some fairly big business like "Subway, the place where fresh is the taste." Or, "Timex, takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'" This song ends with "TCBY, The Country's Best Yogurt." I had no idea that is what TCBY stands for. Thanks for the info, Wesley. It was nice butting heads with you.

So yesterday I looked up my professors on myspace and read all the comments and then read comments on my teachers from last quarter. And then today in class my favorite teacher in the world mentioned that she recently found out about this and read her comments and some of the comments about her colleagues. I thought this was really funny. It is kind of neat to know that professors might actually read those myspace ratings. I could write all kinds of horrible anonymous things about the way they dress or their horrible speech impediments.

I was going to write about this whole thing that happened at my new job that made me really angry but I can't expend that energy right now.

Also, right after I wrote about that thing about my mom's grocery store boyfriend my favorite teacher in the whole world came into the english department writing place where I like to sit sometimes and write stuff in my blog and look at myspace teacher ratings, and she asked me how things are going and how I'm doing and stuff and I told her about that story about my mom's grocery store boyfriend and she wants me to write a poem about it. I wish I didn't hate poetry so much. The writing of it, that is. The writing of it by me or others. I don't mind reading it if I don't know the person who wrote it. But If I wrote it or someone I know wrote it, I hate it. It makes me uncomfortable. Like talking about having to clean someone's vomit up. That's how reading someone's poet makes me feel. Like I am cleaning up their feces and vomit and they are asking me what I think about it. I hate it! That's how I think about it! What do you expect? I'm cleaning up your vomit and you are just standing there asking me what I think about the consistency of your vomit or what you could have eaten to make the cleaning up more palatable. Nothing. It is your vomit. You could have just not vomited it. Or cleaned it up yourself. Or hidden it away. Or had someone else clean it up. I don't like your vomit. So don't make me clean it up.

Oldest fossilised vomit pile: