So Bernie Mac will never again stare me down from the TV screen, eyes bugging and head shaking, forcing me to laugh from his assumed concern and Isaac Hayes has finished giving me and the South Park youth advice and counsel.
But Johnny Corn-pone will be with us for awhile, I bet.
Nice that he only cheated on his wife while her cancer was in remission.
Only a lawyer would make that kind of distinction.
I believe the phrase is:
"What a douche-bag."
Semi-quiet day at the Museum. Writing, swinging by Fringe Central this afternoon to hawk the merch, meeting up with the Postmen crew tonight to read the pilot and talk bidness.
Heading out to Edinburgh at the end of the week for the big Overlord reading.
That should be fun.
This morning's MMMQ concerns the work of the great David Byrne, the original nerdy genius art rocker.
With the Talking Heads (the "Heads" as we 80s hipsters used to say) Mr. Byrne wrote the dance card that allowed the whitest kids to get out there and boogie and then he walked off on his own but kept sending back perfect acoustic postcards. I missed the architectural organ he created last month (or did I, anyone know?) but I can't stop playing the first track from Grown Backwards these days.
Grown Backwards opens with:
1. Glass, Concrete and Stone
2. Glass, Concrete and Steel
3. Concrete and Stone
4. Stone, Wood and Metal
Winners get a house and a home, all others get a bus pass.
And apologies to all who've dropped off the blogroll, we're under construction here. I'll get it back up in good time.