Anne Rice, Bible-Beater

Just when you thought she could not POSSIBLY get more annoying, Anne Rice has given herself to God.

You heard me. She's become a sort of "born-again Catholic," or pseudo-gnostic, or something ridiculous like that.

Now, let me tell you....There are a lot of great Catholic writers out there. ANNE RICE IS NOT ONE OF THEM.

Her next book is about a seven-year-old Jesus leaving the Holy Land or somesuch shit, and it's called Out of Egypt. Wait. Wasn't Moses the one who left Egypt? C'mon, my Hebrew homies, confirm this for a goy. I swear Moses had something to do with Egypt and Jesus had something to do with getting nailed to a tree or whatever.

Yeah. A book told from the POV of a 7-year-old Messiah-to-be. He'd better be preternaturally sharp for his age, or the entire book will be formed of lines like: "I went weewee on the rock. Mommy said I was bad. She said Daddy was everywhere and when I went weewee on that rock I went weewee on Daddy. SORRY DADDY!"

Shit...at least if it was written that way it might be worth reading for shits n' giggles.

The Shit-Feeling Cometh

Urgh. I think I'm getting sick again. I've had a GODAWFUL sinus headache all day and now I just feel feverish, twitchy, overly exhausted, and just plain bad. This is not good. One, I have a thousand papers to grade tomorrow (so much so that I have to cancel the writing group meeting just so I can fucking get caught up with this shit). Two, on Wednesday I have to give a thunderous, incredible presentation on H. P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu" and "Supernatural Horror in Literature" to be precise, and I am demanded at the Jozart Studios Halloween-themed open-mic night immediately thereafter. Some of the local alternakids have been asking for "that guy who played the spooky music on his laptop" to show up for the night, so I guess I gots to drop tha bomb on they asses. Plus, this weekend: off to Cleve Land...provided, of course, it doesn't snow.

This snow shit blows. It's been pouring out of the sky in thick grey clumps for hours and has caked everything in a thick lumpy coating of mlurk. Yes, mlurk--a slushy, mushy, cloacal filth of half-frozen water and half-melted snow that has gummed up everything. As I was driving home from work at the newspaper, dear lords...I almost got hit by a branch that snapped off of a tree from the weight of the mlurk! Everything's sagging, sloppy, and the roads are even slightly icy. The bad thing about that is: I need new winter tires. My current tires are as bald as Ed Asner. They slip and slide when the roads are just slightly damp, let alone a little slick with mlurk. And I can't afford winter tires until next week. Maybe. This will make getting to and from school really fun this week. If, of course, the mlurk-fall keeps up in any way.

Blech. The DayQuil I took is kicking in, so my head no longer feels like a ton of brick...and I've started the habitual munching of Zicam and Hall's Cold Relief candies, or whatever they're called, so maybe I can head this grossness off at the past. I've caught it even earlier than the last time, so that should make a big difference. Now, if only I actually had the time to rest, I might feel better. No such luck. After tomorrow's marathon grading session, I'm going to be rolling nonstop for the next five days straight.