Tell me if you believe this: Live Free or Die.
In which I talk about things that are not beautiful, as well as some things that are. And other stuff.
Oh my America! My new found land! My kingdom, safest when with one man manned.
Pardon me, dear friends, for taking such an extended vacation from my blog. I KNOW how much you depend on my casually nuanced wisdom and vivacious wit. So what I think bears discussion is a certain phenomenon known as The Da Vinci Code. I have read the book and now seen the movie, and for almost the first time in my life, I thought the movie was better. Aside from any religious controversy (and it seems odd that there would be so much, because there have been other books and so on that, comparatively, were much more shocking, and yes there are some fallacies in the book that bear addressing, but that is beyond the scope of this blog--isn't it nice how I can get out of explaining things by claiming that they're out of the scope of the blog?), there are a couple of interesting forces at work in the consumption of this remarkably mediocre novel and its resulting somewhat exciting movie.
Now listen. I do love my stepfather, but his aesthetic choices are atrocious. Culinarily, he is rigidly set in his ways: He refuses to try any new food (except for the erratic quirk--last week he wanted Raspberry Jam when for his entire life he has eaten Grape Jam, and I was amazed), in fact be becomes OFFENDED if my mother serves something new. Once, more than once actually, he refused even to taste the macaroni and cheese because the pasta was, I think, rotini instead of elbow macaroni. More for my mother and me, which was good because it was delicious, but we were also forcefed a side of tension which, of course, makes all foods taste bland.
There are two rappers of great appeal who have built their image on their battle scars (actually there are plenty I'm sure, but I'm going to be talking about just these two--it's my blog, I make the rules) and in general on their gangsta cred. They both have the pedigrees and the, so to speak, rap sheets to prove it, but only one of them has the musical qualities of that elusive and glorious figure, the OG. The said rappers are 50 Cent, affectionately known as Fitty, and Snoop Dogg, formerly Snoop Doggy Dogg, affectionately known as Snoop. Both rappers are of the same family (in that they are both the issue, although of different generations, of the esteemed Dr. Dre). Both are kind of weird looking. But only one, my friends, is an Original Gangsta.