rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated*

– I was clicking around on twitter last night in hopes that someone had posted a link to something interesting to read when I happened upon the news that Leslie Nielsen died. I only follow 259 accounts, many of which are news sites, restaurants or arts organizations rather than individuals. Yet it was the individuals who were sharing the news, not the news sites. There’s a certain amount of ghoulishness in that. People love to be the first to report bad news – someone died, there was a mass shooting somewhere, so and so got caught with his pants down. How many people breathlessly (and erroneously) posted about Patrick Swayze’s death well in advance of the actual event? What is it that makes people so eager to report bad news? I’d much rather share the news that the cancer is gone, the lottery numbers matched or the tornado didn’t hit any houses.

don't you wanna/wanna sticker

– Would you like a fight stupidization bumper sticker? How about a tee-shirt? Both will be at Boheme (in Houston, on Fairview in the Montrose) from 5PM until 10PM this Thursday. Spacetaker – a local arts support organization – hosts Cultured Cocktails each Thursday with proceeds going to an arts group. This week, my theatre company Six Of One Productions is the lucky recipient. We’re in the midst of planning our next show, so the money we raise this week will go toward that endeavor. Please join us. And bring a friend or two.

– I just went into the kitchen at work to rinse off the container I brought my lunch in when I got into a conversation with a woman who works for the radio station upstairs. She and I have crossed paths and exchanged pleasantries a couple of times, but I don’t know her well at all. We just had a funny conversation at the sink as I was washing my stuff and she was waiting on her soup to come out of the microwave. In the midst of telling me her story, her mug of soup must have been getting really hot. It started jumping around inside the microwave – you could hear the thing clicking on the rotating glass. I tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but my eyes kept being drawn back to the microwave. I wanted to slowly back away, before the whole thing blew, but my need to not be rude overruled that move. So I toughed it out, a bit nervously. Everything was fine, assuming she didn’t burn her mouth when she got back to her desk.

* Apologies to Mr. Twain for what is most likely a misquote. Here’s a whole nerd conversation about it.

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