Thursday, June 12, 2008

Enzination of the Nation, hemmy ham HO!

Smooooooke, from a distant Fiiiiiiiire!

That’s what’s over-glazing the Triangle today. Wildfires from down the shore are filling the air with luscious barbequeueueue-scented smoke, and a wind from the east is bringing it right over us. Every time I go outside I get hungry. Mmmm, BBQ. A nice hunk of meat slowly sizzling on a wood fire, fat dripping lazily into the flames, shooting up sparks when it immolates, the coals charring meat to perfection, imbuing the flesh and air with the primal smell of smoke, the scent of danger…

The air is actually GRAY, people. It looks like LA on a smog alert day, only we ain’t in LA and we don’t (as a rule) get schmoggy.

Even with the gray notsmog air that smells like Busters House of Ribs, there were walkers and joggers aplenty out this morning. Must be the 10-degree cooler air that brought them out. Why, it’s only supposed to be in the upper 80’s today instead of tripping toward the triple digits. That’s something to write home about.

Dear Mom.

It’s not going to be as hot as the gates to the seventh circle of hell today (which, according to Dante, was for The Violent). Yay! In other news, did you know that Satan is actually buried up to his waist in ice at the bottom of hell, and that he keeps the ice freezing by flapping his wings, and that he’s eating three guys names Judas, Brutus, and Cassius? He has three faces and three mouths. I just learned that. Also? Hell is encased in a mountain named Purgatory. Cool, huh? I KNOW! The internet told me, and so it is true.

Your Daughter Tiff

Because seriously, if you can’t write to Mom about an ancient Italian poet’s vision of Hell, then you need to rethink the scope of your interaction with the matriarch. Sure, she might LOOK all mild mannered and Mrs Beaseley-ish on the OUTSIDE, but inside I’ll just bet your mom is making a really careful study of the works of renaissance poets from Romance-language speaking areas, and positing theora about their motivations toward apostacy or recidivist agnosticism.

And if they are, I think you should talk with them about it. Beats discussing which batteries run the longest in her choice of artificial men.

Which I don’t recommend you EVER doing.


This is a quick-hit Thursday. I was without the interwebs for much of the day, and now that I have it back I also have managed to generate the desire to work, and so am going to go do just that.

After lunch.
Y’all rock it like a supahschtar today. See you around!

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