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I Know Who My Real Friends Are

Sunday, Feb. 08, 2004 - 5:18 a.m.

Okay folks. Grammy Awards tonight.

They're on a five minute delay, so now we get to see once and for all what the authorities think is acceptable sensory input and what is not.

Perhaps it's time to watch for those red flags with black spiders on them that make people sad.

---

Yesterday here in San Francisco was the observance of Chinese New Year. It's the year of the Monkey. There were an extra several hundred thousand people here, some of whom even travelled from China just for this event. It's apparently the largest of its kind in the United States. I turn into a little kid whenever the dragon appears.

---

Yesterday out of a clear blue sky, I received an IM from P@ul Schu!tz. He's going back into the hospital tomorrow, February 9th, to get his gallbladder removed.

I hope he gets through it all right. He's got two kids to take care of and they need him. Send good vibes for him if you can.

But don't worry about me otherwise concerning him, folks.

Because later in the evening he send me a CCd email, and one of the people he had CCd it to was the woman who had a) knowingly assisted Andy aka the Erasure impostor in his deception of me, and b) received at least one gift from the Erasure impostor that I had originally sent to Andy, and when I told her where that gift had come from, saw absolutely nothing wrong with keeping it anyway, even though it was a result of an act of mail fraud.

One other thing -- she calls herself Pagan.

Yes, that's right, folks, the religion with the two-word bible, 'Harm None'. The fact that she claims to be of the same faith as me makes me want to turn to my right and upchuck into the little green trash can here next to the credenza.

Paul is still choosing to be very good friends with this woman.

In my eyes, it stands to reason that if you are a friend of my enemy -- guess what that makes you, by default?

I bet some of you are reading this and saying to yourselves, Oh gee, you're still beating that same old drum?

Answer: Why, yes, goddammit, I am. Why? Because -- as long as Andy is walking around free and able to do this to other people -- with the help of his willing minions and their tentacles, see above, -- I will still attempt to expose that shit-pile to as much sunlight as possible. And when he goes down, so will they.

Oh darn. That 'gloop gloop' sound you hear is my heart beating.

---

Yulk. Last night John and I forced ourselves to sit through the 1940 version of Pride and Prejudice with Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson. The costumes were completely wrong -- looking like leftover props from Gone With The Wind, complete with hoopskirts and ruffled pantaloons, neither of which were in fashion in Victorian England at the time the book was published -- and the script was so wretched and Hollywoodized I half expected to see Shirley and Bojangles have a walk-on as carriage footmen.

At least we don't have to sit through it again. And a big healthy bitch-slap to Leonard Maltin, in whose otherwise excellent movie book the 1940 version has received four stars out of four.

Folks, John and I have seen the 1995 miniseries. We're spoiled for any other version.

But this fact makes the 1940 movie no less ghastly.

---

In the Saving The Best For Last Department -- Yesterday afternoon, Dave Marron called me from his work and requested my mailing address. Apparently he's sending me a package of some sort for Valentine's Day.

I'm absolutely overwhelmed by this man's friendship.

And believe me, I know who my REAL FRIENDS are.

I'll never mistake one for the other, ever again, not as long as I have friends like Dave around. :)

---

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