CALL ME SNAKE

You might expect the usual sob story about another historic Harvard Square establishment biting the dust, but I can't claim this place was "historic" in any grand sense. Nor can I protest its closing too forcefully, as it's making way for a bagel place that, in turn, is making way for a restaurant that a friend is opening. So I'm not lamenting the demise of my scone hut but am, instead, using its passing as a chance to reflect on all the scones I've consumed from this place in the past five years. Somewhere between 300 to 400, I'd estimate. That's a lot of fat, a lot of calories, and probably at least $500 spent on scones--$500 I could have just as easily given to panhandlers, to folks selling "Spare Change" (the homeless newspaper), or to the guy collecting for "Wheelchair Basketball." Instead, I elected to gorge myself on (conservatively estimated) 150 pounds of raisin or blueberry scones.

The question now is will I use this momentous occasion as an opportunity to break my scone addiction or will I simply find another means of fueling the habit? It's too early to say. For now I'll guess we'll just have to take it one scone at a time.

OK, let's dispense with the preliminaries and get the ball rolling. Here are the first few entries submitted by a person very near and dear to my heart. That's right, ME. Well here they are:

THE BUSH PRESIDENCY--WHERE EVERY DAY IS APRIL FOOL'S DAY AND NOBODY IS LAUGHING.

The next entries are part of my bestselling, "A Black Hole Ate My ____" series:

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY HOMEWORK.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY TAX RETURN.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY TAX SHELTER.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY BRIBE MONEY.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY QUICHE. And liked it.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY (well, you get the idea...)

Don't delay. Send in your entries today. Who knows, you might fool everyone and come up a winner!

"Capote" was a more intriguing film, but I have a similar complaint. There really wasn't any drama here either because the "action," such as it was, was almost all internalized--taking place behind the mask that Truman presented to the world. The most dramatic thing in the whole film was contained in a one-sentence epilogue that said Capote did not write another book after "In Cold Blood." That sentence had a lot of impact, which is more than I can say for the hour-and-three-quarters that preceded it.

Philip Seymour Hoffman was fine in the role of Capote, but it wasn't an Oscar-winning performance. He did a serviceable impersonation of Capote but didn't do much in the way of acting, mainly because he didn't have much of a script to work with. We never got to know the character he played, which made the performance ultimately unsatisfying. I would have much rather seen Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix win for Best Actor because they actually played real flesh-and-blood characters--people who actually did something onscreen. But maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

Well, that's our show for this evening. Grab your popcorn and get the hell out. The balcony is closed.

Today we're starting a new feature here at Call Me Snake, and starting new features is one of the best things we do here at Call Me Snake. (It's also one of the things we do best here at Call Me Snake.) The author of Anatopsis, the subject of a recent post, has written a comment so witty that I have decided to reprint it in full. I am also negotiating with said author to take over Call Me Snake, which is badly in need of an "upgrade." Heretowith (sic?) is the aforementioned Celebrity Guest Comment:

Hi Snake: I just found this blog entry through Google, and I wanted to tell you that, no, I have not been able to handle my success. Immediately after the book launch, I took to drinking heavily and abusing prescription drugs. I also jumped on Oprah's coffee table (the couch was SO 2005), had a brief fling with a woman named Angelina Jolie (no relation to the actress), and went hunting with Dick Cheney. (I shot myself in the foot before he could get me. Ha! Sucker!) Also, I have converted to the Church of Pseudo-Scientology, which is a lot like Scientology but more creative. Anyway, you can see that fame and fortune have ruined me. But my biggest concern is you: how are you handling my success? Have you ever considered converting to Pseudo-Scientology? We could use a brainy guy like you to give us credibility.(Plus we need one more for our beach volleyball team.)

*************************************

THE AUTHOR (ME, NOT HIM) REPLIES: As for how I'm handling his success, I'll have to issue my standard reply -- "One day at a time." Meanwhile, we anxiously await your sequel. Or prequel, whichever comes first.

I spent all afternoon talking about string theory, inflation, and the universe with a leading theoretical physicist, and I have to say it was one of the most enjoyable "work" days I've had in awhile. I usually have plenty to gripe about, but today there's not much to say in the way of negativity. This was one of those days where I consider myself lucky to have such a fun job. Not that it's always fun. And not that I'm always lucky. But for a few hours, at least, all was well in the world of work. (Lest the title mislead, I don't have a proper "office," and I was not in the one that I have, which might have been part of the fun.)

There was one funny thing about the afternoon (and I'm not going to start complaining after holding back and being so good), but this physicist did say on a few occasions that he worries that blogging could prove to be very bad for science--all the negative press that some scientists (like him) get in the blogosphere could provide fodder for the religious right and wrongheaded politicians. I didn't mention that I have occasionally indulged in the aforementioned four-letter word ("b-l-o-g"). I just kept quiet. Not that I've ever said anything bad about him--or about science, for that matter--in these pages.

That's not the first time this habit has come close to getting me in trouble. A couple of generals, as I mentioned before, didn't talk to me on account of some questionable things I've written about the commander in chief, and that could have spelled trouble for my article had not others in the military talked to me. But we're getting off track here: I had a day with few complaints, which is nice for a change. Will it last? Probably not, but let's enjoy that warm fuzzy glow while it's still hanging on. (Update[one minute later]: It's already starting to fade.)

Iraq may be undergoing an insurgent rebellion, George Bush says, but it's not "civil war"--this from an administration that denied the U.S. has "tortured" Iraqi prisoners and terror suspects. In the latter case, the denials made sense because we were accused of morally indefensible acts. But why does Bush reject the term "civil war" to describe the sectarian violence and ethnic infighting in Iraq? The crux of his argument is that the behavior of the insurgents--based on definitions of civility provided by chief Republican fathead, William Bennett--is anything but "civil." In fact, Bush would go so far as to say their conduct has been positively uncivil. Where is Miss Manners when we need her?

It sounds trite to say it (though it’s also trite not to say it, just to think it), but some people earn a lot of money. How much? Well, how about, in round figures, about 1,000 times more than me? Take Howard Stern, for example. He earns as much in a couple of hours as I do in a whole year. And what does he do during that couple of hours? He talks dirty. And not inspired dirty (erotic poetry or something), we're talking real lame stuff like: "nice ass" or "ooh yeah, I'd like a piece of that." Speaking of which, I'd like a piece of that action too, for all the bucks he's pulling in. It beats the hell out of working, as they say. Ooh yeah.

I've been hearing, and reading, about Bush's new policy of preemption but had never taken the time to think it through and see what it really meant. But then my friend Dr. Max (he's not really a doctor; he just plays one on the internet) came through, as he invariably does, with a particularly trenchant comment. Responding to my previous post about President Bush ordering the bombing of the Canary Islands to stave off the avian flu--an example of "preemption," I might point out--the good doctor had this to say, perfectly encapsulating the new Bush policy: "We must bomb them over there, so they don't poop on our windshields over here." There's preemption in a nutshell. Or perhaps I should say there's preemption in a bird turd (in an homage to Robert Altman's neglected bird-turd classic, "Brewster McCloud").

I read this on the web and, therefore, it must be true. Please tell everyone you know. The truth will (and must) out.

Without further ado, here's the breaking news, exactly as it was reported on the number one source for news, the worldwide web (www.com???): "In an attempt to thwart the spread of the bird flu, George W. Bush has bombed the Canary Islands!"