Category: Casual snark

What’s cookin’?

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
Today’s Wall of Clouds.

When I woke up without a big ol’ knife quivering in my rib cage I knew it was going to be a good day.

The morning clouds were back, which ordinarily makes for a great sunrise, but the iPhone’s camera was not cooperating, so you’ll have to settle for a less colorful snap from later in the morning.

At least I could step outside to take it. How’d you like to be jailin’ with Tobias “Julio Child” Gutierrez, who Duck! City police say spent Sunday slicing and dicing his way along Central? No thank you, please. And don’t give my homie anything sharper than a rubber spatula come chow time at the lockup. God only knows what he’s cooking up in that head of his.

Dude was riding a BMX bike, too, so, more positive press for cyclists. Yay. I bet he wasn’t wearing a helmet, either.

Speaking of cooking, we finally ate our way through a fridge full of Southwestern goodies that I started cooking back on the 10th — chicken enchiladas in green chile, turkey tacos, beans with chipotle chile, Mexican rice, etc., et al., and so on and so forth — and so today I will have to cook again instead of simply reheating leftovers. My suffering knows no bounds.

Let’s see here, what else is going on? Super Bowel? Didn’t watch, don’t care. Winter Olympics? Not watching, don’t care. There are very few actual sports in the Winter Games. If the winner is determined by a finish line, timer, or goals/points scored, it’s a sport. Anything that depends upon judges is a performance.

Especially if it happens in a courtroom. You have any idea how many times our man Tobias went to jail before Sunday?

‘The Last Copy Editor’

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 19 Comments

• Editor’s note: I first saw this Peloton story at NPR, and then went straight to AP to see if the original was this fucked up (it was). Buried the lede. (Who gives a shit about a hapless CEO lateraled over to a cushy gig elsewhere?) Confused “there” for “their” and “its” for “it’s.” It took two people to write this dreck and at least two more to put it online. When the nuts and bolts are this bad, one fears for the solidity of the “content.”

I should pitch a movie, “The Last Copy Editor,” about a tireless comma-chaser, usage Nazi, and AP-style maven who fights tooth and nail against the corporate vultures turning journalism into bung fodder.

I see either Jason Statham or Bruce Willis playing me in the title role, maybe John Goodman as the evil hatchet man from Corporate.

Issa Rae as the sharp young reporter who joins me in my quest for editorial excellence. Bill Burr as the comically inept city editor always hitting on her. Edward James Olmos as the burned-out slot man whose copy of “The Elements of Style” is actually an ingeniously contrived flask of bottom-shelf vodka.

Bill Hader as the online editor, a jagoff whose first language is jargon. Stephen Root as the clueless hack who frequently misspells his own byline and always waits until 30 seconds before deadline to file. Natasha Lyonne as the wisecracking dyslexic photographer who says writing captions is not part of her job description.

And as always, Jerry Mathers as “The Beaver.”

Just dicking around

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
Grab the magnifying glass, then sprinkle some pepper down there
and wait for it to sneeze.

The Algorithm is having fun with me today.

When I checked Weather Underground for today’s forecast I was served in quick succession ads for wiener medicine and the Jeep Grand Cherokee. I’m not quite certain what the connection might be there, and I’m pretty sure I don’t care to find out.

Later, on the way back from the grocery, I saw a cyclist wobbling along in the Comanche bike lane … in shorts and short sleeves. Checked the Subie’s thermometer: 33°.

Now there’s a dude might could use a Jeep Grand Cherokee. For sure he’s gonna need some wiener meds.