Ruthzilla is visiting my couch for a bit and we walked down to the the Red Apple to get dinner fixins (turkey tacos if you must know). Upon reaching the store- she realized that we were in front of The Red Apple of the Stranger police blotter fame.

Having lived and worked in this neighborhood for years, I am well aware of the soulful greatness that is played while I cruise the aisles. Mephistopheles has noticed the music too and (except for the wine selection) really likes how much cooler the people and the music in my ghetto grocery store are than the up-tight, rude, wealthy, pasty types at his Magnolia Thriftway. (FYI- Thriftway is the exact wrong name for the place- a better name would be Overpriced Pretention Shop).

It is not unusual for the Kid, the Devil, or me to be humming (sometimes outright singing) to Respect Yourself or I’ll Be There while trying to figure out what the heck to have for dinner. If anything by James Brown or Curtis Mayfield comes on – I may shake my ass a little. It’s impossible not to.

The only problem is Sunday evenings (when the neighborhood gentrifiers come out to shop) the music changes to some crappy 80’s schlock. Hopefully this is just a fluke and that I will always be able to get my soul fix in the same place that I get the cheapest avacados on the west coast.

UPDATE: According to the Devil, the Red Apple was playing soul yesterday instead of the 80’s crap. Maybe the Stranger piece helped end that little bit of hell.

But without guitar (sorry- but my lack of musical skills means I will never grow up to be Joe Strummer but I will still make regular Clash references.).

Moving On.

Mephistopheles and I drink a lot of cheap wine. I prefer vodka (of holy spirit of the potato) but since the only hard liquors the Devil drinks are gin or scotch, we usually drink wine with dinner. The Devil had been dying to try this box (ohmygawdyoucan’tbuythat-itsabox!) of wine. For several weeks he kept picking it up and putting it down when I raised an eyebrow at him in the grocery store. Then one night he brought the box over along with a back-up bottle in case of serious suckage.

Serious suckage ensued of course. So this is a warning. Even if wine now comes in cute little boxes that look like European juice, DON”T BUY IT!. Is not vomitious exactly, but it is flat, unispired and saccharine. It has the sweetness of Smuckers jam instead of the subtle raspberry overtones and tannic tartness of a proper bottled wine. (That was the Devil spewing adjectives at me- he got even more wordy with his descriptions. I am shortening them because I have to listen- I sleep with him. You all don’t. Let’s just say my editing of his incomprehensible spouting is the only thing saving you from chewing off your own arm at his references of oakiness.)

To put it in terms much easier to remember if you are a functional alcoholic (see last week’s Stranger poll)

The Bandit Sucks!

The Bastard is much better. Ignore the wine stains on the kitchen counter.

I like Joe Conason, enough that after reading this I am trying to consider whether my reaction to Michael Hayden’s nomination to head the CIA is a little knee-jerk. Conason thinks that while Hayden may have been in charge of the NSA wiretapping, it is the President who is responsible.

Yet while the president certainly deserves to be investigated (or worse) for his regime’s apparent misconduct, the Hayden nomination is not the most appropriate forum for that reckoning. The nomination process is meant to determine whether
the general is qualified to serve as CIA director, whether he has been truthful
in his previous testimony before the Senate and how he intends to rebuild the
agency.

So the gist is that since Hayden was acting under orders from the president, he was just doing his job with the wire taps regardless of if they were legal or not. Conason goes on to explain that Hayden is extremely qualified and may be able to bring back former CIA employees who left because of Goss and his political cronyism and mismanagement.

If we applied this same kind of reasoning to say, the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghirab then Lindy England would never have been prosecuted. She was prosecuted even though evidence from Afghanistan and Guantanamo show that the exact same kinds of abuse were systemic instead of isolated incidences.

Maybe what Conason is hoping for is that instead of going for the soldier carrying out their orders we will go for the generals (or the president) responsible for issuing the orders. But that is just good German reasoning and for someone who will have the responsibility of rebuilding the CIA, I want more than just a good German. I want someone who will understand the fine line between intelligence gathering for national protection and intelligence gathering for power consolidation. Hayden’s actions at the NSA don’t show evidence of knowing where that line is.

Since shoes come in pairs, songs are coming in pairs too today

1) Kaiser Chiefs- I predict a riot
2)Kaisser Chiefs- Everyday I love you less and less
3) Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s- Barfight Revolution
4) Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s – Skeleton Key
5)Seeed- New Dubby Conquerors
6)Seeed- Dancehall Caballeros
7) The Shins- Gone For Good
8) The Shins- Fighting in a Sack
9)Ok Go- You’re So Damn Hot
10) Ok Go- Get Over It

Shoes do help with sore necks. Who knew? But just a few things to say about overly helpful sales people.

1) Do not tell a girl who is looking to spend money in your store that the shoes she is picking out are the worst things in the world for her feet. The heels aren’t that frickin high and I am not buying those ugly birkenstock-like things that you wear.

2) Shoes that are not flip-flops should not flop off my feet like flip-flops. If they are high-heeled slingbacks that flop I can guarantee that they will be flopping off my feet while I flip myself into a sprained ankle. I don’t care that they get you a larger commission, you aren’t paying my emergency room bills. So no- I don’t think they are supposed to fit that way.

As for the shoes I did buy- these are perfect for running around in without being ugly or uncomfortable. Not as sexy as my Italian hooker shoes (or my Italian sling-backs) but better than either for city-walking.
On a side note- since I was at *gasp, shock, horror* a mall that had more beauty stores than the republican party has indictments, I could not help but check them out. Of course I went to Sephora (crack house) and L’Occitane (opium den). I passed up Bath and Body Works (ho-hum) but then I discovered Lush. Oh my god- it’s like a punk rock pretty store. I may have told the clerk that I would whore myself on a street corner for their salt scrub. I tested the salt scrub on my hands and they are softer than a baby’s ass (and don’t smell like a baby’s ass- which is good)

I threw out my neck. Don’t know how, but it’s making sitting in front of a computer screen difficult. Like any girly-girl in pain I am going shoe shopping (cause shoe shopping is like morphine but with style). Posting will be light.

In the mean time- Pat Robertson, king of the loons and a bright shining beacon ripe for an alien abduction and anal probing, has decreed that the Pacific Northwest is going to have a tsunami this year. I’m not running for the protective cover of a red state yet, but how fucked up is that a religious nutbag makes some outrageous prediction and the local news actually runs the story like it’s important?

Once again The Ministry Of Unknown Science saves Fursday Funnies from the complete banality. Who knew Jesus likes the Smiths when he’s angry?