'Scooter'

8:30am
B-Trip: Home

One of those mornings where I try to hold off the day as long as possible. Not ready to start prioritizing the to-do list in my brainium. Not interested just yet in getting worked up over the news.

So I started the crossword puzzle in front of me.

"Actress Davis: _ E _ _ _" I scribbled in 'Bette', throwing caution to the wind.

But now I realize it can't be Bette.

Dicked.


11:20am
B-Trip: Home

In much the same way it's difficult to imagine a person wearing a Bluetooth looking like anything other than a tool, it's impossible to think of someone named "Scooter" being anything but a complete douchebag. Or a Muppet. But that's it.

No Scooter should not be allowed to rise to positions of power. The career achievement ladder for Scooters should not extend beyond "AA shortstop". Why? Because they're bound to screw everything up. If they instilled confidence and poise, someone wouldn't have started calling them Scooter so many years ago.

Of course, if you're a malevolent cyborg hellbent on global annihilation then it probably helps to have a Scooter around. After all, there are a few things Scooter's excel at: Starbucks runs, scapegoating, getting the fantasy league set up....They live for that!

I. Lewis Libby, who ostensibly answered to his pejorative moniker after tiring of people pointing out that his initials spelled ILL ("Yo, dog....you illin'? Daaaaah!), is going to jail. He'll stay there until the last day of Bush's term, when a presidential pardon will enable him to take his rightful place as a lapdog in the private sector. That's pretty much it.

And yet I will continue to follow his trial....

3:33pm
B-Trip: Home

...Like now.

I'm currently reading about Judith Miller's testimony. I recall an anecdote from Maureen Dowd, Miller's co-worker at the NY Times, years ago that told me everything I needed to know about Judith Miller:

<< Once when I was covering the first Bush White House, I was in The Times' seat in the crowded White House press room, listening to an administration official's background briefing. Judy had moved on from her tempestuous tenure as a Washington editor to be a reporter based in New York, but she showed up at this national security affairs briefing.

At first she leaned against the wall near where I was sitting, but I noticed that she seemed agitated about something. Midway through the briefing, she came over and whispered to me, "I think I should be sitting in the Times seat."

It was such an outrageous move, I could only laugh. I got up and stood in the back of the room, while Judy claimed what she felt was her rightful power perch.>>

Judith Miller would dick me immensely. She needs to relax. You wonder if she's ever Taken D.


10:25pm
B-Trip: Home

Aha! It's GEENA DAVIS!!

I went back to the crossword puzzle and NAILED IT! "Love Triangle", "Gooiest", "Dem"....I got 'em all.

You can't stump me, Donna S. Levin!

Until tomorrow. From Wednesday on, they get too hard.

Comeuppance

12:12am
B-Trip: Home

Do I take too many D's? How many is too many?

And is too many preferable to too few?

Seems it would be better to keep things moving than to be backed up for a few days. That is, as long as there's a B-Trip readily available.

So I'm sitting here contemplating my personal D pattern. The past several weeks have me averaging about three-D's-a-day. Before I started keeping track, I would have pegged myself for a two-D-a-day individual.

And if I'm averaging three, why just the solo D yesterday? I didn't make any special effort NOT to go, nor was I away from home for any appreciable length of time. (I firmly believe, btw, that the human stomach has a homing device that knows when an acceptable B-Trip is near. Ever notice that? When I'm out & about, the urge rarely strikes. But when I get about 3-5 miles from home, the assembly line kicks into high gear in a hurry. Unexpected traffic or difficulty finding a parking space, and I'll be crowning by the time I walk through my front door!)

And why 4-D days sometimes? That must have to do with dietary choices. To that end, I'll be shocked if today doesn't turn out to be a 4-D day. Stay tuned to find out!

So while I'm not sure what the proper amount of daily D's might be, I will continue clinging to this unwavering truth:

'The longer you wait to Take your D, the stinkier thoust D shall be.'
-Jane Austin


8:10am
B-Trip: Home

I got worried yesterday. I admit that. While making dinner, I became aware I'd only taken one D.

So I did what any sane individual would do....I loaded my half of our made-from-scratch pizza with jalapenos!

Per usual, they 'sped-the-plow'.

No need for a long good-bye here. I'll be back soon.

10:50am
B-Trip: Home

Jalapenos 2: Ye Best Not Stray.

And how.

I've returned to the "How To Be A Gentleman" book. I see that this book was published in March 2001. In other words, the Old Normal. We'll have to see which (if any) of these guidelines still apply to our post-9/11 reality.

Take this suggestion, for example: "A gentleman knows how to use a dictionary."

Suuuure he does. Maybe as a weapon to throw at evil-doers so freedom doesn't scuff her marching boots, but a gentleman certainly doesn't need one to "look stuff up". In the New Normal, we only need about three dozen words (values, surge, embolden, etc.) . And spell-check has all of those under control.

"A gentleman gives direct answers, especially to controversial questions."

Perhaps. Let's look at this recent exchange between two consummate gentlemen:

<<BLITZER: Here's what Jim Webb, senator from Virginia said in the Democratic response last night -- he said, "The president took us into this war recklessly. We are now, as a nation, held hostage to the predictable and predicted disarray that has followed."

And it's not just Jim Webb; it's some of your good Republican friends in the Senate and the House are now seriously questioning your credibility, because of the blunders and the failures. Gordon Smith...

CHENEY: Wolf, Wolf, I simply don't accept the premise of your question. I just think it's hogwash.>>

At first glance it may seem that our VP was, in fact, avoiding a controversial question. However, that's tough to verify since Wolf was cut off before posing his question. If we assume he was leading up to "Do you accept the premise of my question? And, as a followup, do you think this question is asinine or merely hogwash?" then it becomes clear that this tenet of gentleman-liness is alive & well.

"A gentleman does not make idle threats."

Wait one second, you say. Whatever happened to Osama bin Laden? Weren't we going to "smoke him out"?

Now before you go questioning the 'gentleman credentials' of our beloved leader, consider this..."One of these days." Bush never said when we'd smoke him out. He might even go ahead and leave the smoking process for his dad (who, I believe, will be elected in a landslide in '08. After all, cleaning up his son's mess is a role to which he's surely accustomed. And he must be pretty good at it considering his complete f*ck-up of a child became a two-term president.)

So we'll smoke Osama out one of these days. There's a lot of caves in Afghanistan. It's hard to find enough smoke. I don't know much about foreign policy, but I suspect one day we'll learn the real reason we lit Iraq on fire and also took zero steps to reduce carbon emissions was because we needed more smoke for the bin Laden hunt. A pretty brilliant strategy, but per usual the President gets no credit.

11:03pm
B-Trip: Home

Joel Stein is one of about a half-dozen reasons I keep my La Times subscription active. (The other reasons, you nosy bastards, are Tim Rutten, Steve Lopez, Patrick Goldstein, Rex Morgan, M.D., and Bill Plaschke....though the latter, as far as I'm concerned, is still digging himself out of a hole after brazenly dissing the 2006 World Series.)


Go ahead. Click on it. I'll wait....

Plaschke's unwarranted, above-the-fold negativity deflates this otherwise frame-worthy sports page. It had been 24 years since the Cardinals last won. He couldn't have waited 24 hours to whine about the Series?

Bill, you're lucky I enjoyed your Sean Avery story and Olympic coverage last year. Otherwise we'd have serious issues. But, moving forward, let's try to keep the dick moves to a minimum.

Anyway, Joel Stein's column was not one of his best so I moved on to an op/ed piece entitled "Never Too Late", detailing the myriad accomplishments of people such as Clint Eastwood, Mark Twain, and Robert Frost who did not produce their finest work until middle age and beyond.

This article spoke to my very core. After all, most poop journals are kept by newborns. I've often thought:

"Am I too late?"

By waiting 'til I'm thirty-two to track my poo, does that mean I'll never be thought of as a defecating wunderkind? The boy wonder of the B-Trip?

Some twelve month-old in Chattanooga could do exactly what I'm doing and become the Stinky Sensation while I'd be dismissed as the other guy, the grownup. People would wince, admitting in hushed tones that my online journal, my d'log, is kind of sad.

But this article urges experimental innovators everywhere not to give up! I'm not sure what an 'experimental innovator' is but, like me, I imagine they Take D. The piece seems to say if you're thinking about Taking D: TAKE THAT D. And if you think there's some chance the rest of the world would like to hear all about it: SHARE THAT D! After all, I have over three decades of D'ing experience from which to draw. What's that superstar in Chattanooga got? For all we know, he still wears diapers.

(Memo to self: Taking D in diaper could make for fascinating d'log post. Do it soon to scoop kid in Tennessee. T-Tennessee? Tennessee...T-Tennessee?)

Ahhh...Arrested Development. I think I've finally stumbled upon this d'log's theme.

The Tao of D

8:08am
B-Trip: Home

At times, D's can be spent in deep concentration. In today's hectic world, where else does one find the opportunity to reflect upon and ponder life's philosophical mysteries?

Yoga class?

Too much activity.

Church?

Too many old people.

Camping?

Now you're just being silly...how would I charge my iPod?

Traffic may be your best bet, but achieving a Zen-like serenity can be difficult when THE BLUE-TOOTH MORON IN FRONT OF YOU WON'T MERGE OR TURN OFF HIS BLINKER!!

So in addition to the obvious physical comfort Taking D provides, there is a mental (and some might even say 'spiritual') component. In truth, what other daily routine virtually guarantees a few moments of uninterrupted silence during the day? There are no ads (save the easily-ignored "For a Good Time, Call...." campaign). And any distractions (newspaper, cell phone, etc.) are on your own terms since you must bring them in with you. Best of all, everyone vying for your attention at home or in the office typically has the good sense to wait until you emerge: More centered, more focused...and no longer enveloped in an unholy fetor. In effect, one's D creates a force field, keeping the rest of the world at bay. For those few moments, you can be alone with your thoughts. Or, if your thoughts scare the crap out of you (figuratively), you can always do a Sudoku. Either way, it's just you being you.

But Kenny...you say, breathless...this is a 24/7 world! There's a heavy price to be paid for tuning out, even if it's just for a couple minutes. I understand that concern. However, I disagree. It's why our forefathers created the 'Taking D Exception' which, admittedly, is one of their lesser-revered accomplishments compared to, say, the 21st Amendment (which, of course, repealed the 18th Amendment, thus allowing us all to get wasted again! Mmmm...sweet, sweet ratification.), but it dates back to the Magna Carta.

Surely you've noticed that negligence due to smoke break, doctor's visit, or even jury duty is often treated with scorn, while Taking D seems an acceptable excuse for any absence:

"Where were you?!! We're been looking all over. Mrs. Cubbison went into cardiac arrest!"

"I was in the bathroom."

"Oh, okay. Well...help me wheel her downstairs."

No D but 2D

12:14am
B-Trip: Home

The ever-mysterious Late Night D. Always dropping in when you least expect it. Like that racist on 'Seinfeld'.

But this after-hours moment has given me a chance to reflect on the lovely evening Elle & I just spent at the Stroosvini residence. If you're looking for a remarkable dining experience in a warm, cordial setting you'd be hard-pressed to top the Stroosvini's....where conversations flow as effortlessly as the wine, and canine flatulence reigns supreme.

The meal was delightful....A Feast with Seven Forks! (More specific info coming soon! Kindly click on my 'fingerling potatoes'.) It's hard to believe it had already been a few months since we'd seen each other. Being in their Venice home, you couldn't help but feel like we were all old friends. And though that may have something to do with the fact that we've known each other for many, many years, it could just as easily be attributable to the braised cabbage, which was so delicious Elle & I found ourselves praising it the entire 30-min drive home. So alls I'm sayin' is...don't go judging everything on first impressions, yo. Dig below the surface. Dig down deep and see if maybe cabbage is involved. Cause that's probably your answer.

It certainly explains why I'm Taking D right now.

7:35am
B-Trip: Home

A recalcitrant Morning D. Took a while to get going. Perhaps an episode of 30 Rock was on in my large intestine and the D wanted to wait til it was over. (I've been meaning to shove a TiVo up my bunghole to accelerate the viewing process by skipping the commercials, but I keep forgetting.)

10:30am
B-Trip: Home

Reading sports page. Also, an article in today's Current section questioning if the War on Terror might be an insane overreaction. Certainly from a historical perspective, this warrants discussion. Though Bush may often repeat that terrorists want to destroy our way of life, they scarcely have the capacity to do so. So blowing everything out of proportion (i.e., comparing Osama bin Laden to Hitler, equating Iraq to a struggle for our very existence, etc.) is little more than a great recruiting tool for more terrorists.

Makes sense. Would be nice for cooler heads to prevail for once. Everyone just needs to stop what they're doing, Take D, and look for constructive ways to move forward. And it goes without saying that everyone needs to flush. Only terrorists would dream of doing otherwise.

6:33pm
B-Trip: Home

Reading about military slang. Some favorites:

Geardo - Derogatory term for the guy who has to have all the latest and greatest gear on his uniform, even though he does not know how to use it.

Mookie - Muqtada Al Sadr. He's 'Al' to me because there's only room for one Mookie in my life.

O Dark 30 - A very early hour. ("We got up at oh-dark-thirty.") In my experience, it's never good when the urge to Take immediate D forces you up at O Dark 30. Hopefully that won't happen to any of our boys in combat.

Semper I - Pejorative Marine lingo for being overly concerned with one's own personal interests. Dah.

and of course...

Blue Canoe - Slang for a portable toilet. I'll let you know if I ever Take D in one of these.

Poetry in Motion

9:06am
B-Trip: Home

'Ode to Mediocrit-D'

Just a regular poo
Whatcha gonna do?
Can't make no big todo
'Bout no regular poo.


12:10pm
B-Trip: Home

If you felt a tear in the gossamer fabric of society today a little after noon, a palpable trace of sadness knowing that somewhere out there your fellow man had been deeply wronged, then allow me to explain what that was all about.

As I prepared for this Followup D, I grabbed a section of the newspaper I thought contained a Sudoku. But upon commencement of the aforementioned movement, I realized I'd been had. This Calendar section, though teeming with movie times, reviews, and picture of a pomegranate juice mogul, contained no Sudoku.

A case could be made that I erroneously grabbed the wrong section. But that would imply that I'm the one at fault. So no thanks. I prefer to think the LA Times intentionally and perniciously led me astray by placing the Sudoku elsewhere. Look no further when pondering the declining fortunes of the once venerable newspaper industry.

But my fortunes took a turn for the better as this D, thanks in part to last night's veggie-loaded stir fry, was easy like a Sunday morning. Thus, I didn't spend too long fretting.

6:01pm
B-Trip: Home

Southern California is a desert. A pleasant one, but a desert nonetheless. Given our enormous population and arid climate, it's remarkable to me that there is always H2O available to flush the toilet and take a shower, much less to water your driveway - a seemingly ubiquitous ritual that never ceases to baffle. Since it only rains here a handful of times each year, obviously we're stealing clean water from somebody. So whomever/wherever that is...thanks!

I got water on the brain because, as I sit here reading an article about people who are trying to go three weeks without whining, I can hear raindrops falling outside!

I love the rain. In this part of the world, it instantly turns the mountains green and somehow dissipates the smog. Never is Los Angeles more beautiful than the day or two after it rains, when the haze customarily enveloping the city is still attempting to resurrect istelf, leaving the air crystal clear. For those few days, it's like living in HD. All the colors are brighter, more crisp. And best of all, it seems to buy us a couple days between wild fires.

So as long as I live through the day - never a sure thing considering the standard SoCal response to wet driving conditions is to SPEED UP (ostensibly to spend less time on the road), there's much to look forward to tomorrow.

Scruff

8:01am
B-Trip: Home

The best things in life are free. That's why I don't get too excited over new products. Things like the iPhone or Wii seem very cool but I've found if you have a little patience, sooner or later the parent company will mistake your wife for a transvestite and send her a complimentary version of their product.

That's how I came across this Gillette Fusion. It arrived yesterday for Mr. Elle Pice. (And not a moment too soon. When her whiskers get too long, it really takes away from her goatee.)

The six-bladed Fusion seemed all the rage a few years ago, but I couldn't be bothered. The Mach 3 handled my facial hair with aplomb. Six blades seemed, to use dictionary.com's Word of the Day, overweening. I promised myself I'd never move on from the Mach 3 until something truly revolutionary came along: A thirteen-bladed picture phone razor, for example, that when used diligently helps manage the scourge of AIDS in Zimbabwe.

Still waiting for that one, Remington. Tick tock.

But how easily my opinion can be swayed. I'll surely use this razor. It also comes with a coupon for replacement blades. If that makes them cheaper than Mach 3 replacements, I guess Gillette's "Send A Razor To The Tranny Wife" promotion can be considered a rousing success.

That is, assuming the half-dozen blades don't slice off my cheeks. I'll let you know.

12:05pm
B-Trip: Home

It's not often I feel like royalty. I mean, I may occasionally experience a vicarious thrill when knighting someone or hurling a crumpet at one of my scores of attendants...but by and large my existence seems to have more in common with a commoner. Except, perhaps, this one.

But one occasion that consistently provides the unexpected pleasure and indulgence fitting of a king, queen, or, at the very least, an alderman has to be when the heater kicks on while I'm Taking D. It's Winter's solemn promise.

And it's rare in Southern California. Our heater is only turned on a few weeks each year. And like every Blue-Stater, it doesn't work very hard so the odds of receiving a blast from our furnace are long.

But when you do......mmm, mmm......

And that's exactly what happened during this D. I've often been told I was born under a lucky star and this proves it. (On a related note: I'm also confident that Madonna was singing about me in "Lucky Star", though that's been somewhat difficult to certify. And though I continue to shine on her wherever I am, the restraining order has complicated my dogged research.)

But I digress...my old apartment had a vent right beside the toilet. It was nice because it served to warm the seat in advance of my arrival. But if the heater fired up while you were Taking D, things got uncomfortable (singeing leg hair, forsaking dreams, etc.).

Our current B-Trip, however, provides the best possible vent placement. The heat comes from the wall directly across from the toilet, enabling a pleasant warm breeze. Like shitting in the Maldives, I imagine. It wouldn't surprise me if people wanted to Take D here on their honeymoon. That's how luxurious it is. (Elle & I are still trying to determine if we will open our home for such a purpose, but keep those requests coming in!)

Torpor

7:56am
B-Trip: Home

Good morning. Reading LA Times article about a combative interview Wolf Blitzer had with Dick Cheney. Why do I care about this garbage?

As a warm-blooded mammal with at least passing concern for humanity, I've never really had much in common with our Vice-President. However, that all changed with this D. It appears that both he and I are not too keen on Hillary Clinton becoming President. Cheney doesn't like that she's a "Democrat", a term he artfully infuses with the same contemptous inflexion more routinely associated with words like "rapist", "pedophile", or "Pat O'Brien".

Of course to me, 'Democrat' is just another jolly D-word. However, I simply refuse to believe that there's only two families capable of running our country. And with Jeb Bush in the offing, we need to break the cycle. Therefore, if Hillary wants my vote she needs to change her last name. "Jenkins" would do the trick. I'd also accept "Baxter Birney".

12:30pm
B-Trip: Home

It's go time. In a little while, we're heading down to the Volvo dealership.

Right now I'm poring through materials to sharpen my negotiating tactics.

8:25pm
B-Trip: Home

Guess what we did? I'll give you a hint: I'm currently thumbing through the S40 owner's manual.

Very good experience. Good deal. Etc. Etc.

But something was brought to my attention today that anyone considering getting a Volvo must be aware of. It's the Overseas Delivery Program. Volvo will give you roundtrip airfare to Europe where you can pick up your custom-designed car right off the line in Sweden. Then you can drive it around for up to two weeks before flying home and thinking: "Man...I sure wish the car I just bought was in America where I could use it."

Alright. I'm kidding. Obviously they ship it (at no cost to you). So it's basically like throwing in a free European vacation with your car purchase.

The only downside is that Volvo only pays for one night of accomodations, but who doesn't love sleeping in their new car? That's what Elle and I are doing tonight!

In fact, by picking it up in Europe, I could have saved 8.25% CA sales tax (the savings of which could have paid for several nights in a hotel).

And in case Sweden dicks you, I understand you can pretty much go to any port city in Europe. Our salespersom said one lady picked her car up in Paris, a city that seems rather land-locked to me. Thus, there appears to be some leeway.

My lease is up in September. I wasn't planning to make Elle & I a two-Volvo family, but for a highly-subsidized European vacation I might just consider it.

Oh, also....this D was loud and splashy. Must've been those delicious Milky Way Lattes at the dealership.