[click image]I spent this schizoid night last night, batting back and forth between being a blog moderator blogger fairydust leftist keeper of the flame of truth and transcendence and the hot possibility of freaking out and driving to the not-really-doctors at the local ER. I kept leaping up and ransacking my house for my missing thermometer. Ice picks in my ears and throat and neck so sore and tender I was having trouble swallowing. I finally just gave up, switched on a podcast of a guy with tones so dulcet they help lull me, and got in bed. I slept for twelve hours and feel considerably better, though I have a creeping feeling it will be the same again tonight.
Anyway, for anyone who might have missed it, the whole Sibel Edmonds circus kicked up over at the Brad Blog again yesterday and I have lost patience for getting her whole story out, instead of these incessant teases, these reminders for us to keep adoring her for her numerous attempts at good citizenship that probably do the most to keep her from being suicided for so brilliantly failing. It all just serves to piss me off, and especially when I can see from the git that the goods we need to get public are almost certainly NOT going to get public... AGAIN....
In the midst of all this pissy and febrile leaping up and down, I took the time out to listen to Sibel and Peter B's "Boiling Frogs" gig, interviewing this time Russell Tice, which didn't lift my spirits or my fever. It doesn't help that the perfect intro for that show was a Leonard Cohen song, being as how he has abdicated the decency all his songs have arced toward for our whole lives.
Sibel! Peter! We're boiling!
You don't need to ask that question. Change the name of your podcast to BOILED Frogs, and let's see what we can make of this frog soup we're left with.
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