I’ve been sitting on these Romanian tombstones for awhile, meanwhile it’s made the rounds on some of the funeral blogs and was featured on Coilhouse today.
These bright and cheerful, yet creepy grave markers tell the story.
Click pix for bigness:
Confessions
Got My Eye On You
Ok, this is kind of embarrassing, but I have Amy Winehouse on a death watch. I don’t spend a lot of time or energy on celebrities, but for some morbid reason I’ve been tracking her and Blake’s antics since last summer and watching the drama unfold and it’s taken an ugly turn. How much more can a body take?
My prediction? Dead by the end of the year. Based on the latest photos of her, I believe her organs are failing. She’s gray and crusty.
It’s sad and maddening watching her deteriorate. Then there’s the freak she’s married to.
Hope she gets some help soon.
Off-Topic: Pop Art
Remember when Mountain Dew was all about ticklin’ yore innards?
You can still embrace your inner hillbilly.
Found at: Advertising is Good for You
Loving What You Have
Greetings! Delightful weekend, crispy, breezy and delicious. Invigorating. Never left the garden. Deadheading is a form of meditation. Combined with general housekeeping duties, we feel a little lighter today. Inside and out. Massaging rootballs, knocking down spider webs and organizing for the next season.
Today’s tip for better living: Feather your nest.
Garden of Agony
In 2002 I made a promise to myself that I would make the break from my employer before the next election rolled around. By April 2004 I was gone.
Recently, I read “The Garden of Agony”, an essay written in 1986 by Hunter S. Thompson, that perfectly describes that defining moment in 2002.
He works now as a political consultant in Washington, for $1000 a day, for either party or any candidate who can afford him. “Things are different now,” he told me last week. “The only thing that matters now is money. It’s so much worse than it was 10 years ago that you don’t even want to hear about it. This town is worse than it’s ever been. These new people have no shame. It’s like living in a whorehouse. I’m getting out.”
Then, one afternoon last last week, I got a call from my old friend Patrick Caddell, one of the ranking pollsters and wizards in the business, who stunned me by saying that he also was “quitting politics.”
“Don’t lie to me, Patrick, ” I said to him. “You were born in this business. It’s your life.”
“No more,” he replied. “The whole political system is a disaster area, and it’s getting worse. There are some very sick people in the business today. It has gone from the Best and Brightest to the Worst and Meanest. I got into politics because I believed in things; now I’m getting out for the same reason. It got so bad that I was feeling dirty all the time. I finally had a shower built into the office, but it didn’t do any good.”