Don't perform in front of one. It's pretty simple really.

To the stupid bitch sitting across from me on the train this morning, whispering into her cell phone, behind her hand: Hey! If you don't want other people to hear you, then don't use the phone on a crowded train.

But then, she also put on her make up in the train. So what can I expect?
To paraphrase Rodney King: "Can't we all just shut the fuck up?"

What ever happened to internal silence and thought? Huh? How come we all have to have a fucking soundtrack to everything and every moment of our lives? I admit that with my addiction to my i-pod, I'm guilty of this, too. Except, I turn the damn thing off now and then. But all I see are people with head sets: telephones, talking to the invisible other; music delivery systems, rocking to something only they hear. In their cars, walking on sidewalks, on treadmills at the gym, on the trains, buses: everywhere. People are separating themselves from the rest of humanity at the expense of our humanity.

Instead of saying that we need to stop and smell the roses, I think we need to turn off the noise and savor the silence.

I came in this morning, and my boss walked into my office and closed the door. Never a good sign. Especially bad sign when the Herald ran a front page story yesterday about the layoffs.

Our VP saw "the list" and was "very surprised" by the names on it. Remember this is the VP who swore on his mother's honor that not one person would be cut from our department. The names themselves have not been revealed, merely that they were a surprise.

My boss then extended this advice, which came from the upper middle manager above him, but below the VP.

"We in this group should mind our Ps and Qs and do whatever we are asked by whomever asks. This is not the time to make waves, or enemies. The PR department is in full charge of the web. Do what they say and no back talk. Of course, this means that you can still point out to them mistakes in spelling or whatever. But..."

I've been watching Shogun for the past few nights. And all I can think of is the various daimyos telling Blackthorne that he'd better behave or else ... "Do you understand?"

Hai. I understand. I'm fucked in the ear with no oil. Or as the PR department is so fond of saying "It doesn't have to be done right, it only has to be done."

Ok, I seem to be over my funk and now I'm just pissy and bitter and annoyed with the world. You may ask how this is different from before, and I will tell you: before I was miserable, now I'm going to make other people miserable.

To begin:
Item 1

Just so all you people* on the weather channel know, "normalcy" is not a word. The phrase you are so desperately searching for is "normality".

"There is a sense of normality on the west coast of Florida as the hurricane shutters come off." Or "Now that the power is back across Port St. Lucie, you get a feeling of normality in this backwater shit hole."

Item 2

Picking a president should not be based on the concept of who looks like they might be fun to drink with. One of the commenters in my entry "The Devil Came Down to Florida" explained on her own web site that the reason she would support Dubya was because she thought John Kerry looked like Herman Munster and would probably bore her to death if they went out drinking, but that Dubya looked like he'd be fun.

Are you fucking kidding me with that shit? First of all, the POTUS is a tea-totaler and has been since he found Jesus. Secondly, unless you are a Jesus freak yourself, I can damn near guarantee that you won't be having any fun at all with one.

Secondly, if it comes down to that, I think that I would be more likely to be bored stiff by Dubya than Kerry, if only for the reason that I enjoy spirited debate and intellectual stimulation and I am pretty sure that the spoiled, intellectually deficit person known as Dubya would cause me to break down in frustrated tears after the first ten minutes.

Thirdly, shouldn't the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the free world be someone with an IQ higher than a fence post? Shouldn't your decision to elect someone to put their finger on the button be based on who has the wisdom not to push it in an attempt to bring on the second coming and the apocolypse and not necessarily in that order?

Item 3

What is with the bras that look like they are lined with Kevlar? If you are going to wear a padded bra, wear one, but at least pretend that they might be real. Those nippleless, stiff nose cones sticking out under the tight tee don't look even remotely like human female breasts and are even a little scarey.

I'm just saying.

* Are those people reallymeteorologists, or is that just a new term for TV weatherman?

Isn't it amazing how fast jokes can propagate?

I just recieved that from my cousin up the coast.

I'm a touch busy, so I'll just give you the name of my new favorite author. You can look him up yourselves, write the book reviews for me, what ever you like. But he is just brilliant, and laugh-out-loud funny.

Jasper Fforde.

And there's your proof. The devil and his brother handing out ice and water in hell.

I believe that there are signs from higher powers all around us, if we only look. For example, an ex-friend of mine insisted on getting married. She didn't care to whom, but she was particularly challenged by one man who very much did not want to marry her. She eventually wore him down, and they wed. They also divorced, not more than two years later, after having never lived together as man and wife, and after both had had affairs with lab assistants at their respective research labs.

We all told her that this was a bad idea, and even (if you believe in such an entity) God weighed in on the subject by:
1. On the arrival of her parents from Taiwan, they were robbed of all their money and the heirloom wedding jewelry. Between the cab and the front door of the hotel, a distance of not more than 10 feet, and of course nothing was ever recovered, and no one was ever charged with the crime.

2. The next day, someone at the bridal shower was contagious with one of the worst, most virulent flus anyone had ever seen. And the seafood salad may have been bad. The upshot was that most of the wedding party was puking and running 104 degree fevers right up until the wedding took place.

Coincidence or sign from above? You decide.

To bring this back to the photo at the top of this entry, consider this:

1. Both Jeb and Dubya insist that they serve by the preference of God. They both point constantly to the higher power that guides their decisions. Even Pat Robertson has decreed that Dubya is God's chosen leader for America.

2. Jeb had this to say about Hurricane Charley : "God doesn't follow the linear projections of computer models," the governor said outside the Punta Gorda emergency management center, whose roof caved in during the hurricane. "This is God's way of telling us that he's almighty and we're mortal."

3. Following that storm, Frances slogged across the state in the opposite direction, making a perfect "X" across the peninsula. Sort of crossing it out?

4. Now, Hurricane Ivan, stronger than the two that preceded it, is preparing to rip the state a new asshole.

Hubris? God's way of saying "Nuh-uh, don't be pinning your shit on me, Bushboys."? I think so. Yes, I do. I just wish that I wasn't in the way of that point being made.

Maybe it's the funeral. Maybe it's the threat of Hurricane Ivan. Maybe it's my general indigo funk, malaise and bad attitude, but I put together a little playlist I call "Easy for me to listen to".

Sample tracks include Tom Waits' "Waltzing Matilda" (live), Bob Dylan & Paul Simon (live) "Sounds of Silence" and the Ramones "Sheena is a Punk Rocker."

In fact, the majority of the songs in this list are live tracks from the Bob, or Tom or any number of other male artists with terrible voices that I love so true.

But, in the ever wobbly balance of my life, I just ordered tickets to see the Indigo Girls in late October at a fabulous little jewel box of a Deco-era theater in downtown Miami.