Many of you may not be aware, as we Metro Detroiters are reminded roughly every 15 minutes, that next year’s Super Bowl will be held…here. Not in Pontiac this time, but right here in the D. It’s a good news/bad news deal. The bad news: Your chances of going to the game are close to nil, you’re not cool enough to go to any of the parties, it’ll be serious orange-barrel time this summer as the freeways are made ready and, well, there are probably a million other reasons. The good news: Take that, Columbus, Ohio!
I was thinking of the halftime show on my morning dog-walk. It should be hip-hop, or at least showcase the Detroit music scene, one of the most vibrant in the country. It will be…Motown. I mean, don’t you think? It’s inescapable. They’ll dust off whatever aging stars might still be ambulatory, beam in Diana from whatever planet she’s living on, and the whole thing will end with a battle between Smokey Robinson and Eminem, which Smokey will win, and then fireworks will go off.
God bless America.
It rained all day, drops going plinky-plunky on the skylights. What a great idea for this latitude, skylights. There’s one in our otherwise miniscule master bath, and get this — it has a pleated blind you can draw over it, I guess in case you’re worried the squirrels might see you naked.
When I interviewed in Houston last year, an editor there told me it was a “good news town.” Well, that’s one way of putting it.
MichaelG said on February 8, 2005 at 8:49 am
I heard this story on the radio the other day. I still can’t figure out why the sherry. It’s not like the deceased could taste anything when taking alcohol that way . . . could he? I see that she “plead guilty”. Looks like they still need an editor.
MichaelG said on February 8, 2005 at 8:50 am
I mean “she plead not guilty”.
alex said on February 8, 2005 at 10:00 am
Sometimes people drink to get drunk, never mind the taste, Michael.
And if you don’t like the taste of cigarette smoke, you could always take it the way they did in colonial America–rectally. That’s right. When tobacco was first introduced to Europeans from the New World, they’d go to a spa much like we go to Starbucks in the morning and they’d have it administered. Imagine a waitstaff blowing smoke up your ass.
I also knew a girl who used to drop acid in her coochie, another great pleasure center full of mucous membrane.
That poor lady. They’ll probably put her on death row down there in ass-phobic Texas.
MichaelG said on February 8, 2005 at 10:45 am
I know about drunks. What I posted was mostly joking, a little question. If one can’t taste what one is consuming (for lack of a better term) what difference does it make what one, er, imbibes. I mean, does vodka burn? Is sherry smooth? I would assume alcoholic content makes a difference. God. What a subject. And yes, I’m familiar with people blowing smoke. Happens all the time. Then there are the girls in the joints in TJ . . .
Connie said on February 8, 2005 at 2:55 pm
All I wanted to say was Alex, that was way more than I ever wanted to know, but the comment software said I was using objectionable language!
deb said on February 8, 2005 at 3:08 pm
We have a skylight in our bathroom, too. It’s on the top of what is essentially a three story house (because of a “walk-out” basement). One morning, in the middle of nice hot shower, I glanced up while rinsing my hair to see a man on the roof. My husband had neglected to tell me that he’d called a chimney repairman to fix the chimney-cap that had blown off in the storm. If I had blinds on the window, I’d have them shut all the time!
KCK said on February 8, 2005 at 6:05 pm
or you might have a neighbor like Michael Skakel, who said he had climbed a tree and ma$terbated while looking through Martha’s window.