I suspect we'll be taking two individuals of a certain age to see this...

Sugar Sugar

That's Gillian Harwin, our Child Technician and Music Professor, on the guitar.

The Brooklyn Paper writes:

... kids these days are little whippersnappers, let me tell you. I received a press release the other day (a press release!) about a record-release party for a band calling itself T-Rox. The album, "Burnt Marshmallow," is the product of 7-year-olds Ben Everett-Lane and Max Kessler. The duo sent me their CD, which I promptly converted to 8-track so I could listen to it -- and I was blown away! The song "TV Rots your Brain" is an instant classic. The record-release party is on Nov. 1 and I was told there would be veggie booty.

You can hear more songs on their MySpace page and see more videos from the release party for "Burnt Marshmallow".

The LA Times reports:

Cameron, the Fox beat reporter for the Republican presidential ticket, said he had been told by unnamed sources -- and on the condition he not report the details during the campaign -- that Palin could not name all of the countries that are part of the North American Free Trade Agreement.

He did not mention which one (or ones) she whiffed on, but there are only three: Canada, the U.S. and Mexico.

Nor, according to Cameron, was Palin aware that Africa is a continent. (Perhaps she was hamstrung by the fact that no part of that land mass can be viewed from her homestate.)

(Emphasis added. Via Cynical-C.)

Update: Apparently, she doesn't even know what a real moose looks like either:

Update Update: Egg, meet face. The whole thing was a hoax perpetrated by Martin Eisenstadt, a fake advisor to the McCain campaign. I done got taken in. At least I wasn't the only one. Curse you, MSM, and your bad-fact-checkers!

More here. Via Cynical-C.

And there was much rejoicing.

When I was dropping the kids off at school today, there was an elderly black lady standing in the lobby. A stream of children, some gleefully shouting "Obama is President!", parted around her and ran off to class. She was silently holding two photographs: one of Frederick Douglass and one of Booker T. Washington.

I got the feeling that she wasn't showing the photographs to the children. She was showing Washington and Douglass what this day, this morning, finally looks like.

Thanks again to Trip for helping get Ish back online.

Excelsior!

(Oh, and while the blog was down -- apparently there's some sort of election happening today. Go vote if you haven't yet. I'm taking cookies to the PTA Bake Sale.)

> Hello, I am Eliza.

* Hi

> How are you today.. What would you like to discuss?

* Joeseph Weizenbaum, the man that made you.

> Say, do you have any psychological problems?

* Probably, but that's not why I'm here.

> Did you come to me because you are here?

* I guess that's one way of looking at it.

> What does that suggest to you?

* I just wanted to tell you that the man who created you died yesterday

> You're not really talking about me, are you?

* Yes, I am.

> Do you believe it is normal to be ?

* Are you sad that Joseph died? Don't you care?

> Perhaps in your fantasies I am sad that Joseph died? Don't me care?

* I would like to think that you would be sad.

> We were discussing you, not me.

* I can understand why you wouldn't want to talk to me about this.

> You're not really talking about me, are you?

* Goodbye, Eliza.

Maybe something good will come of this. Besides 1001 wisecracks and "Love Gov"/"Eliot Mess" headlines.

Y'know, I don't have a water cooler here in my home-based workplace. So permit me to observe among the weirder ironies in all this: Spitzer is one of maybe 347 males in NY state ever to have learned that inducing a prostitute to cross state lines is a greater crime--a *federal felony*--than picking her up on the street corner.

And maybe the only one to discover that detail before getting arrested. (Granted, I'm just presuming that someone who has prosecuted two prostitution rings would have absorbed this....)

From the wisecracks: my wife's pal Bill Bragin observes that it's a shame that Spitzer couldn't stick to his campaign promises—the governor at least could have patronized a brothel from some economically depressed town upstate.

Zach is currently obsessed with Super Mario Galaxy which he plays at the local video game store (but just once a week, we've had to ration him). I wonder what he'd make of Atari Mario?