I'll take the calorie counts, easy on the nanny statism, please

I know I'm fat. Not pleasingly plump, not extra padding, just plain, ugly, disgusting fat. The battle of the bulge has been going on for nigh on eighteen years, ever since I left working at a shoe store and found myself at a love affair with a computer and sedentary living. My doctor and I still can't understand why my blood sugar and cholesterol are so outstanding, but the dirty zone is the old gullet. Once in awhile, I hear hushed English voices trying to determine if I'm the second pregnant man in the world (or the first authentic pregnant man), but rest assured, you will all be the first to know if that gut was either a ectotopic newborn or just my huge stomach. I'm definitely not proud of it.

However, parents have been sort of looking the other way. They're too busy holding two jobs, watching their 401(k) dwindle to nothing, and basically surviving on the smell of an oily rag. A trip to McDonalds is Tavern on the Green, so why not fill their cherubs with stuff that will keep them happy while they try to beat the debt collector?

The things I've noticed in my gustational journeys are many. The more I think about it, though, I eat because (a) I'm hungry, (b) I'm bored, (c) things ain't going well in Cleary Squared land, (d) it's there.

What I've noticed in my eating habits is as follows.

- A few months ago, I went to Cambridgeside to grab some dinner. (I've been learning to eat at 5:00 because if I eat later, I wake up in the middle of the night sweating, leaching off that meatloaf or cheeseburger pie.) Taco Bell is one of the best places to get Mexican food, even though Qdoba and Chipotle make theirs much fresher. I couldn't get near the place, or even the register. Couldn't have been the 79, 89 or 99 cent taco/burrito specials, couldn't it? Cheap food = popular food, and no wonder - BK's value meals were clocking in at $7 minimum! And places like Sakkio (great chicken teriyaki) were also busy as beavers as they had $4.99 chicken teryiaki with maki rolls! The other specialty shops, however, were bare. The Indian shop hardly had a person there, as well as the Thai place and the mini-bistrots.

I think what bothers the health scolds is that when people don't have a lot of money, they're going to see what they can get for as little as possible - both monetarily and nutritionally. They can't swing over to Souper Salad or visit the local vegetarian place and hope that $5 will fill their tummies, when a single bowl of mugilltawany soup is $4.99 before taxes. If these health scolds want to introduce healthier foods to the public, bring down the exorbitant prices of healthy foods! Is it too much to say, "to hell with the bottom line and profits...let's make healthy food cheap!" This includes all of the trendy food items like organics and fair trade items - which are marked up considerably over plain Jane foods. I don't care if my blue corn chips came from an labor faction in Ecuador - all I want is affordable (and delicious!) food.

- I don't like Weight Watchers. Period. Most of the leaders are very nice, and have lost anywhere between 60 and 100 pounds. Weigh-ins I liked, because it was in front of the nice leader instead of my doctor, who keeps on (sarcastically) suggesting stomach surgery. The points system is pretty neat and scientific. The culture of meetings every single second, however, are the deal breaker. Weight Watchers is food's version of AA-I'm overweight, not injecting myself with 98% pure heroin and selling my kids to feed my habit. If my weakness is food, wouldn't a more rounded program of (a) one-on-one with a qualified nutritionist, (b) one-on-one with a qualified trainer, and (c) one-on-one with a qualified psychologist to dig deep down and figure out why I'm gaining all this weight? Forget all the fad crap, like Hydroxywhizbang and Dr. Lala's Cabbage and Lemongrass 30-day fast. I'd like to lose the weight and keep my sanity, thanks.

- Health eugenics - raising a more perfect human race through nutrition - is a dangerous thing. Self-righteousness is even more so, as the assumption that Your Way should be Everyone's Way is not merely arrogant, it's dead wrong. For every vegan (militant, obnoxious, or just a fussy pain in the ass) who throws a fit every time someone dares to bring in a hamburger, there is a long-time practicing vegetarian who can whip up a 100% vegetarian meal that looks like the real meat-laden McCoy and no one ever suspects a thing, and will not be bothered in the least if you drink skim milk in their presence. The way to introduce healthy eating and avoiding obesity is not to jam it down people's throats - although that hasn't stopped politicians from hiking cigarette taxes through the wazoo while redistributing that money through everything else but health. Sure, I don't mind calorie counts on the menus, and I hardly notice the missing trans fats. (It's a nice test in math to see if you can make a filling meal for under 500 calories.) When the busybodies (pardon me, the "concerned") delve into the holy nonsense of taxing sodas and pulling out vending machines because Heaven forfend there's a molecule of trans fat in it, that's when people get turned off into getting healthy, and do their best to sneak around it. Hey, prohibition really worked for Al Capone, didn't it?

The only person, believe it or not, who gets the health thing right is Richard Simmons. Kids are so overprotected and hovered over these days is that they don't get to run around and get the pent-up energy out of their systems - yet when these same kids get fat, the administrators and teachers panic and overcompensate. The best solution for this is bringing back physical education, something I give huge support to (even though back at Latin Academy, we had a huge floor that passed for "gym".) You get kids who get exercise and maintain a healthy life, and teachers get more attentive kids. Not a bad deal.

The difference between romance and love

In this NPR article, a very touching and outstanding story about two people who lived through a cancer diagnosis, until the person with the diagnosis passed away one week after their engagement at the age of 36.

I made the following comment to the person who posted this article on her Facebook page...

My father, when he was first diagnosed with lung cancer back in 2004, would have never known he had it if he didn't break his leg. It was a medium sized tumor, but the damage was done - by September 2005 it had spread to his spine, his brain, and everywhere else. But the greatest thing of it all - he never let anyone feel sorry for him. He still joked about things and kept as lucid as possible until his last days, which were filled with hallucinations, focal seizures, and goodbyes. We even had an Irish wake for him the day before he died.

When you think about it, though, it's a true test of love and friendship to sustain and stick by those in their darkest hours. We may pay the price by losing our loved ones, but we won't count the cost of what we sacrificed to get there. But the memories remain, and that's the real gifts they leave behind.

The difference between love and romance is that we make ourselves attractive for romance, but for love, attractiveness doesn't matter. It's that willingness to show up and support your loved one when they need you the most. That endurance makes a giant difference.

Airing of the Grievances (a tribute to George Carlin)

In the spirit of the late George Carlin and the currently very much alive Jerry Stiller, I present the Airing of the Grievances.

Note to the folks: this entry has R-rated language.

1. People who can't walk a straight line, cut you off when you're trying to get somewhere, and then decide to yap on a cell phone endlessly. The opposite of this are people who stand there like statues. What, is this some kind of fucking game of "Red Light, Green Light?" Keep moving, unless you want to be moved or pushed to the floor.

2. Here's an idea for you neurotic wimps out there who hate smoking, drinking and other vices that are still legal: we don't picket you when you're running around naked with your naughty bits on display. We don't try to force you to sell certain kinds of "organic" produce. And we don't follow around people who we suspect might shoplift, when they're actually looking to eat healthier. $5 for a pound of apples raised in cow shit is a sin.

3. Wall Street. My 401(k) is now a 332.6(k), but it could have been a 201(k). Thanks, Hank and Ben. Please don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.

4. Hollywood. Earth to actors and actresses: you not the fucking royalty of America. You get paid millions of dollars to pretend or perform, and yet you think you can pass down your noble royal edicts as gospel? There are actors who do great services the right way - as far away from the red carpet and cameras as possible. There are others who are just attention whores.

While we're at it: can we stop with the bizarre child names? I have two lovely nieces named Hollace and Riley. Those names are fine. My brother and his wife had the smarts not to name them Celery Moonbat Munster Cheese or Cross Bronx Expressway or Lightning Bat Chain Puller. Weird names work for the Zappa folk, although Dweezil is wondering when he can change his name to Dennis.

5. Reality TV. Trollops with fake tans, fake boobs, fake teeth, and the slimy men who adore them, should be put into a cage with hungry wolverines to rid them of their chances of 15 minutes of fame. As for the umpteenth editions of Survivor, Amazing Race, and Big Brother, how about shifting those cameras to the urban centers of our land? God knows a little sunshine is the best disinfectant, and those millions can be used to spruce up quite a few places.

6. Gossip. It's time we got rid of glorifying overpaid brats and sent the paparazzi to Iraq, where instead of getting that great shot of Britney Spears' hoo-hah, they can take pictures of soldiers and others who yearn for the comforts of home and stability. The paparazzi can then understand what it feels like when IEDs and bombs lurk among them and be grateful their last picture wasn't given a posthumous Pulitzer.

7. The press. The newspapers and TV networks are losing money left and right because they've become the public relations board for various lobbies. Somehow they lost their way from reporting the news to acting like tittering high school girls with a crush on the football captain. Time to clean out the queen bees and the goths and get back to reporting, rather than spreading vicious high school gossip.

8. Politics. We still have people in Washington who are so fucking clueless about what the nation really needs! We need people to lay down their ideology - the far left with their Marx worship, and the far right with their God worship - and find out where the hell the happy medium is. It's not gonna happen when you act like some asshat Robin Hood on steroids, or the second coming of Jesus. And it certainly isn't going to happen by telling certain people they can't be poor and certain people they can't be rich. And yes, the sooner term limits to weed out the deadwood and corrupt hacks infesting Capitol Hill is implemented, the better off we'll be.

That's all I can think of for now...

The Real Love Guru - nine years old

Warning to Doctor Phil and the slicksters on VH1: Alec Greven puts you two folks to shame with his direct, wonderfully clear dating book.

Some of his tips from the nine-year-old genius and my comments in red:

"It is easy to spot pretty girls because they have big earrings, fancy dresses and all the jewelry...[p]retty girls are like cars that need a lot of oil...The best choice for most boys is a regular girl. Remember, some pretty girls are coldhearted when it comes to boys. Don't let them get to you."

I can attest to that. A lot of the girls who seemed really pretty to me back in the day were sometimes pretty mean-spirited. And the longest-lasting friendships I had came from regular (not as pretty) girls.

And also:

"Crushes are like a love disease. It can drive you mad."

Also very much true. Crushes are like those songs you hear in your ears constantly - you never can seem to stop thinking about them. The girls I had serious crushes on were extremely flattered to be the object of my admiration/adoration, but I was more afraid of the boyfriends - I still have all my teeth! I could also never look them in the eye or hold a coherent conversation with them - I was so nervous I would slip up.

The true love you obtain will rarely be a crush you've had. It will be someone you'll feel comfortable and proud to share your day with.

and the best advice of all...

"Girls always like the smartest boys."

AMEN TO THAT! Back in the '80s, smart boys (back then called "nerds") were as popular as a nuclear power plant. The flip side to that was that the smartest boys, most often then not, had a lot of the answers, and actually listened to the girl's questions and concerns rather than giving a cursory "I don't know." Girls, once they knew they had a credible and reliable source, became fans of the smart boys for life, even though on the surface they seemed to despise them. So what if they dated the football captain or the baseball star, or their friends thought the smart boy was uncool to be even seen with. To a girl, the smart boy was a revered God.

Want more money to go to the state? Decrease the winning odds

I've been doing research on this for the past couple of years, and I've noticed that the lottery's payout on instant games is no less than 67%, after administration and overhead. To wit...

- A $1 ticket has an average payout of 68-70%.
- A $2 ticket has an average payout of 69-73%.
- A $5 ticket has an average payout of 75-78%.
- A $10 ticket has an average payout of 80-83%.
- A $20 ticket has an average payout of 82-85%.

Other lotteries are far less generous with their prizes, around 60% maximum, but with an average of around 55% or so. What would happen if Massachusetts, in light of its fiscal crisis, decided to cut its prize payout structure?

The way you can do that is to keep the current amount of low-tier prizes ($10 or less) as is, but make the higher tier prizes ($20 or more) harder to get. To do so, you cut the amount of higher tickets.

For example, the Holiday Bucks payout of 71.82%, which is the total amount paid out in prizes ($10,859,400) divided by the total number of tickets (15,120,000) sold at $1 apiece, depends on the following prize structure for prizes $20 and over...

$5,000 prize x 60 tickets = $300,000 in the $5,000 "pool"
$100 prize x 13650 tickets = $1,365,000 in the $100 "pool"
$40 prize x 18900 tickets = $756,000 in the $40 "pool"
$20 prize x 54000 tickets = $1,080,000 in the $20 "pool"

Say the lottery changes the prize pools to this...

$5,000 x 30 prizes = $150,000
$100 x 1512 = $151,200
$40 x 3024 = $120,960
$20 x 30240 = $604,800

We've saved $150,000 in the $5,000 pool, $1,213,800 in the $100 pool, $635,040 in the $40 pool, and $475,000 in the $20 pool, for a total savings of $2,473,840, making the effective payout $7,881,360, or 52.13%.

This nearly $2.5 million is quite a neat bundle of savings, and this is just for the $1 tickets! If the lottery cut its payouts to 55% across all tickets, it would bring in a lot of revenue for the state, and it would certainly avoid toll hikes, gas tax hikes, and property tax hikes - and maybe leave a little to bring down the income tax to 5%.

On the other hand, critics will give the guilt-wracked spiel about the "those who can least afford it" filling in the budget gap, saying so super-expensive condos, while cooking super-exclusive food, and entertaining their super-shallow friends. Maybe they should downsize to the levels of "the people who can least afford it" and see how it feels for once - starting with their charmed luxury lifestyles. While they're at it, they can dig deeper than their conceit and contempt for those who don't have six figure salaries and a trophy spouse.

Alice's Restaurant

Arlo Guthrie wrote the song Alice's Restaurant in 1965 as both a narrative and a protest against the Vietnam War. I've seen the movie many times and it is gentle, funny, and forceful. You don't have to be anti-war to enjoy it - but the strength of Guthrie's conviction is clear.

This lyrics to this were taken from Arlo Guthrie's website.

Alice's Restaurant
By Arlo Guthrie

This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the
restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant,
that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's
Restaurant.

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on
Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the
restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the
church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and
Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of
room downstairs where the pews used to be in.  Havin' all that room,
seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't
have to take out their garbage for a long time.

We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be
a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump.  So
we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW
microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed
on toward the city dump.

Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the
dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving."  And we had never heard of a dump
closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off
into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.

We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the
side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the
cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile
is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we
decided to throw our's down.

That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving
dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the
next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie.  He said, "Kid,
we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of
garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And
I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope
under that garbage."

After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we
finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down
and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the
police officer's station.  So we got in the red VW microbus with the
shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the
police officer's station.

Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at
the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for
being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and
we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out
and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again,
which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station
there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was
both immediately arrested.  Handcuffed.  And I said "Obie, I don't think I
can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on."  He said, "Shut up, kid.
Get in the back of the patrol car."

And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the
quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of
Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop
signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the
Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars,
being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to
get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of
cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station.
They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and
they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each
one was to be used as evidence against us.  Took pictures of the approach,
the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to
mention the aerial photography.

After the ordeal, we went back to the jail.  Obie said he was going to put
us in the cell.  Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your
wallet and your belt."  And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my
wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you
want my belt for?"  And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings."  I
said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?"
Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the
toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took
out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the
toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape.  Obie
was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice
(remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few
nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back
to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat,
and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.

We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back
of each one, sat down.  Man came in said, "All rise."  We all stood up,
and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he
sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the
twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows
and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog.
And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry,
'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American
blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the
judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each
one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us.  And
we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not
what I came to tell you about.

Came to talk about the draft.

They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street,
where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected,
neglected and selected.  I went down to get my physical examination one
day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so
I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning.  `Cause I wanted to
look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted
to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York,
and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all
kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave
me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."

And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill.  I mean, I wanna, I
wanna kill.  Kill.  I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and
guts and veins in my teeth.  Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill,
KILL, KILL."  And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and
he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down
yelling, "KILL, KILL."  And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me,
sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."

Didn't feel too good about it.

Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections,
detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me
at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four
hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty
ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was
inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no
part untouched.  Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the
last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there,
and I walked up and said, "What do you want?"  He said, "Kid, we only got
one question. Have you ever been arrested?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre,
with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all
the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever
go to court?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on
the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want
you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"

And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's
where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after
committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly
looking people on the bench there.  Mother rapers.  Father stabbers.  Father
rapers!  Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me!  And
they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the
bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest
father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly
'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me
and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?"  I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay
$50 and pick up the garbage."  He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?"
And I said, "Littering."  And they all moved away from me on the bench
there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I
said, "And creating a nuisance."  And they all came back, shook my hand,
and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing,
father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the
bench.  And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of
things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it
up and said.

"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna-
know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-
you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting-
officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for
forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had
fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there,
and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it
down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the
pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the
other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on
the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the
following words:

("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?")

I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to
ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm
sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench
'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women,
kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug."  He looked at me and
said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints
off to Washington."

And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a
study in black and white of my fingerprints.  And the only reason I'm
singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar
situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a
situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into
the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get
anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.".  And walk out.  You know, if
one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and
they won't take him.  And if two people, two people do it, in harmony,
they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.
And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in
singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an
organization.  And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said
fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and
walking out.  And friends they may thinks it's a movement.

And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and
all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the
guitar.

With feeling.  So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and
sing it when it does.  Here it comes.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

That was horrible.  If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud.
I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it
for another twenty five minutes.  I'm not proud... or tired.

So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part
harmony and feeling.

We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing.

All right now.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant

Facebook: use it wisely

If you're a Facebook user, you can use the social network program as an invaluable tool to reconnect with your friends from the past, including those who you had secret and not-so-secret crushes on, but don't blame it for breaking up a relationship because your SO was actually talking to said secret and not-so-secret crushes, including exes.

The Globe article is okay, but a lot of people state - correctly - that the Facebook isn't at fault here. It's the jerk of the guy who decided to two-time the girl by having two profiles. Of course, you can participate in the occasional Super Poke, invitations to Mafia wars, and hugs, but if that's not your style, the "ignore" button comes in handy.