It's still August (ok, barely) but the temperature this morning went into the 40s (ok, barely). That's blowjhinski.

Was putting away some odds and ends just now and came across the bullet ear-ring I made for myself back in the mid-80s. I used to wear that thing a lot, though it did weigh a bit more than a normal ear-ring (despite being a low caliber round). Too bad I don't wear metals anymore -- while the shock value of most things have faded over the years, this particular bit of ornamentation would offend more sensibilities today than ever before.

Anyway, I'm glad Guido found the thing after a lost it that night drinking all that Dead Newt beer that he brewed in his dorm room, then me passing out on that duffel bag full of wooden coat hangers, lying there comatose with my ear-ring falling out and my spine starting its steady decline.

When I talked to Frylock yesterday I mentioned that shopping at Wal-Mart isn't as much fun as it used to be. Sometime between corporate going all multi-culti and marketing going all suburban-trendy the place lost its tragic character.

But I went in there today anyway. And I was rewarded. By being annoyed.

It was in the new grocery section: recently redone to be stylish, kind-a like a blue Target. Anwyay, I was looking at the rolls of aluminum foil while a mother stared intently at the opposite shelves. Her children giggled and made merry, and as I walked up I had to step across a package of paper plates that that young girl had taken down and rolled on its side down the aisle.

This disgusted me: Cookie and Mojo have gotten smacked upside their coconut-heads for lesser breaches of the peace. But the mother was unperturbed: she just kept looking at the cut-rate merchandise. The girl rolled another package of plates and announced: "Mommy says we're very talented."

And the mother replied: "Of course you are."

As much as I tried not to do it, I turned to look. The mother was beaming sweetly at her reprobate children: the little girl happily hurling plates, her brother on the other side doing likewise and, I noted, sporting a faded orange stripe that had been dyed down the center of his crew cut.

And I thought to myself, this is where it starts... In a few short years that kid will be staggering around a stadium parking lot sloshing beer onto people's hibachi-grilled bratwursts while other fans remove their shirts and paint their man-boobs orange, whooping it up until gametime when things get really obnoxious.

Yeah, football season is pretty messed up around here. Frylock bemoans the sorry state of the culture -- and he's just talking about the aspects portrayed on television! With the news-biz being what it is these days, I regularly find the truth to be much stranger than non-fiction.

OK, people I am not a heartless bastard but the Kennedy funeral footage has become a little over-the-top. I haven't seen this kind of distraction from bigger issues and over-glorification of a flawed individual well since MJ...who I might add would get my election vote before Ted Kennedy anyday. Anyway, I'm not going to explore this any further, I don't need the CIA (whose agents are presently being reduced to junior high hall monitors) to report me to Janet Napolitano.
Lets see what else is going on? Last weekend Spumoni South witnessed the engagement of Stefani Massari and Steve Dombeck...an exciting announcement and great celebration. Last weekend, the A/C died in our apartment. Probably in Berea this doesnt seem like such a tragedy...but in South Florida its kinda like being wrapped in a wet down comforter and then stuffed into a dryer turned on high. I instantly converted into emergency mode getting an electric fan and opening all the windows. My kitchen window decided he didn't believe in staying open...he in fact believed in inflicting intense pain upon my fingers by slamming upon them. Safe to say after the loss of blood and throbbing pain...I kinda forgot about the heat. Landlord sent an AC the next morning. As he entered I noticed three things about:
1. He was Creole
2. He had no tools.
3. He was going to change am air handler and a compressor with no help.
I looked him right in the face and turned to give Jennie my best Big Kahuna impression...."Get attta here. Sent a guy with no tools....he's shot. Time to go."
Safe to say we left at 8am and he was still finishing at 9pm. Unbelievable. Anyway, I'm gonna be back to comment on Alane's crocodile dundee dream...I believe my analysis determined it has something to do with midgets ans Dennis Kucinich.

Sadly, we pause to mark the passing of ... summer vacation. Yep, Da Chimpz are off to school today: packed their lunches, put on their uniforms, and are now sitting in their little desks getting some education.

Or so we hope.

The weather never really got summer-like anyway -- just a few hot days in mid-August. I have a few tomato plants still growing in pots out back. Got a few green ones; nothing has ripened yet (though they did get a late start).

Lots of fascinating stuff in the news these days -- too much to comment on here (without offending someone). My favorite item today is the report of an IRS ruling that rejects the "Turbo-Tax defense" to non-payment of taxes. Like so much else, those techniques only work for the Select Few.

We watched "Holy Grail" on Friday night, at Cookie and Mojo's request. I think we need to watch it a few more times: I want them to be able to recite the "annoying peasant" scene by rote in time for college -- or maybe even high school.

Oh, and like I mentioned to Moolah: you only take someone to the Everglades if you're trying to dispose of a body.

Today I took the day off as it was the chimps last day of freedom before return to the academic setting. We went up to a little waterpark that also had go-karts and bumper boats. It was a beautiful day and we had a great time.

I did not dream of ghosts with towels--but I did dream that I was fishing for alligators with just fishing line, a bobber and regular hook. It strikes me when I am awake that this probably would not be the best way to catch alligators. On top of fishing with that awesome equipment--I had to fish through a chain linked fence so the alligators wouldnt be able to dash out of the water and eat me. Due to cookie's school report this year--I know alligators and crocodiles can sprint short distances very quickly. In the dream, I became very frustrated that the alligators werent biting and started walking away--which apparently broke some alligator fishing rule and the alligator jumped the fence and charged me--however, i woke up so i dont know my fate. dreaming of members of the crocodilian family is very disturbing.

Oh, and another thing about sleeping next to a dream-filled Steef. I think we were all bunking down in Marlo's living room, trying to get some sleep despite Steve's intermittent murmuring of the word Premio.

I remember it was cold that night. Sausage-cooler cold.

Because I'm old and still enamored of the old brand names that saw me through my extended adolescence, I sprung for the new Pet Shop Boys CD. It arrived yesterday and I played it.

Yikes. The first tune I heard was a song called "This Used to Be the Future"; as I listened to it I kept thinking the title should have been "These Guys Used to Be Talented."

The music itself wasn't so bad -- same old sound, not even much update.

The lyrics started at about 1:30 in, an angst-riddled lament that can be either hokey or hackneyed depending upon the listener's reservoir of actual angst:

I can remember planning for leisure
Living in peace and freedom from fear
Science had promised to make us a new world
Religion and prejudice disappear

Followed by typical post-modern moralizing and alarmism. So I was already cringing when at about the 2:30 mark the music got very earnest -- hysterically so. The stuff was so futuristic and forthright it made me think of Zlad's "Elektronic Supersonik."

Hey baby, wake up from your asleep
We have arrived onto the future
And the whole world has become
Electronik supersonik

Onto my love rocket climb
Inside tank of fuel is not fuel
But love
Above us there is nothing above
but the stars
Above

As social commentary, Zlad's work definitely provides more insight and packs more punch. All systems gone: prepare for downcount!

And speaking of social commentary, what the hell is Frylock eating before going to bed at night? He's lying in bed having such cramps and sweat that even spectral phantasms are offering to put towels on his head.

Dude, you are watching too much CNN. I went to the doctor yesterday and had to sit a whole friggin hour in the waiting room watching an endless loop of an insufferable CNN feed. Bad enough they do it to us when we're herded at airport gates; now they have to torment us when we're waiting for our meds?

Believe me, I got enough pain. And why CNN? Who's going to believe anything they hear from them?

After an hour of listening to the two blowhard hosts I wished a ghost would throw in the towel for me as well. Who needs Death Panels when you have stuff like that?

Steef---

After reading your 10 recent thoughts post, I think I completely understand why you had that dream a few nights ago....

The constant critiquing of cnn news and fox news has made you completely insane...infact arguably certifiably nuts.....we need to cut back....

John I think you will appreciate this dream (or my perspective atleast), your cousin can fill you in on the details..

A few nights ago, I woke up to my better half whining and choking on his words (I believe he was crying) ..."THE GHOOOOOOOOOSTTTT....NOOOOOOOOO....THE TOWEL...."

I had to violently shake him awake.. He thanked me and said "the ghost was putting a towel on my head" and then he just passed out..At this point, I didn't know what to do....check him into a mental hospital or pretend like it didn't happen out of respect...



Naturally, I just chuckled myself back to sleep and decided to share it with his family members...respectfully ofcourse....

I later found out that Steve dreamed he was one of those "ghost hunters" and one of the ghosts put a large towel on his head and was choking him....Why a towel? I don't know....

The only thing I can gather from all of this is:


Time to lay off the spices ...leave them to the "REAL MEN"...or women for that matter....

Yeah, this is definitely a disease. For the second day in a row I was drawn into a local discount store and mesmerized by the dizzying array of hideous kitsch. Yesterday I wandered into Tuesday Morning; today I wandered the aisles of Old Time Pottery.

It's like binge drinking: I lose track of time, following successive and unrelated flights of fancy, while only vaguely aware of a self-loathing that only spurs me to stare even longer at merchandise so massively horrendous. So exquisitely horrific.

I originally went out this morning to buy computer supplies. Instead I have a couple of ceramic baking dished. Got 'em real cheap. And unlike the tech equipment, I don't really need them.

Funny thing about a Mastandrea who gets annoyed -- even standing alone we can be an angry mob.

Like getting the mail just now -- the little postcard from the local Chrysler dealership (the one that didn't get closed after the tax-money hose-down). It seems they want me to continue my longstanding (and expensive) habit of having service performed at authorized dealers. To which I reply: no, I will not. You have annoyed me. Just like those asshats at Discover Card. Schnooks.

Some Things I Been Wondering:
1. How come nobody ever uses the words "palooka" or "shnook" anymore? I miss them, can't we start a petition to bring them back?
2. How come RuPaul hasn't made any records recently? Or what about Lime? Is it just too much to ask for a new album from Right Said Fred?
3. How come nobody ever puts fried calamari on pizza?
4. How come between the half hour that supposedly separated the end scene of Rocky 4 and the opening of Rocky 5, Balboa's son ages 10 years... actually I take that back. Why in the hell did Stallone make Rocky 5?
5. Is Sour Cream actually spoiled milk?
6. How the hell can any wine be "dry"? Wouldn't it have to be powdered?
7. Is there any poem or song that rhymes the words "ascot" and "mascot"? And if not, why not?

If you're that opposed to the big government solutions now being legislated, go to your congressman's town hall meeting. Wexler is your guy down in Florida -- he's having one on Aug 20.

The hard part: he's having it at his home. In Maryland.

I have no idea why Violent Femmes lyrics would remind you of Vegas debauchery. But I do remember your after-action reports. Also those of Vito whose later trip to the strip included an ill-advised run-in with Ron Jeremy.

Anyway, I think we need to revise the old saying "the future will be televised." I think it's more accurate now to conclude that the future will be rationed.

Although I proudly own a burned copy of the Violent Femmes Greatest hits album (courtesy of Dr. Sfingi), I cannot claim to recognize the lyrical reference. Instead, everytime I read them I am reminded of my very first trip to Las Vegas. I believe it was our second night there, our entire group of 21 (which included Broadway Joe, his bro Steve, Joe Fatone Sr., his wife Phyllis, BazzukaJoe and even Vito Jr.) took a trip to the Crazy Horse Gentlemens club to visit my Aunt Phyliss's cousin Vinny, who was general manager. Of course, as special guests of the boss and with a super wealthy celebrity in tow we were ushered through the backdoor into a room called "The Emperors Club". It is simply a dark back room of luxury couches with a one way mirror overlooking the club for big rollers willing to pay for privacy. Fine, we all find a seat and look through the glass at the stage and debauchery inside when a line of dancers flood into the room and each find a seat on a knee of a guy in our party. Spoken or unspoken, sitting on a man's knee is a PAY SERVICE. Luckily, I declined any offers made to me, but one particular member of our party was an NSYNC tour guitarist named Ruben, who anyone would agree is a genuinely loveable guy. Sitting on the couch with an exotic dancer perched upon him, he was engaged in an intense conversation...and what believed were very thoughtful and complimentary gyrations upon his knee. Minutes later, as their chat ended, she kindly requested her three hundred dollars plus tip. I can never erase the shocked look upon his face, as he rose from his seat and walked in shame to the ATM machine. As we left the club for our cab, he turned to me and Vito Caravella, and revealed to us how he was fooled : "You know, when a woman tells me I have a beautiful body...I believe her." Vito was in utter disbelief, but he still thoughtfully and sympathetically nodded to him. Later that day, Ruben also revealed his envy that our entire party (with the exception of bodyguards) were of Italian descent, and he was the sole Hispanic. He once again confided in Vito, BazzukaJoe and myself his wish for a more Italian-sounding name: "What do you think of calling me Rubino?" We unanimously agreed it was a terrific idea...and left out it was also the last name of the OB/GYN which delivered, me, BazzukaJoe and Merle. So anyway, I now have no clue how that Violent Femmes lyric managed to conjure up that memory.

Looking back, that Vegas trip was insane. Thanks to Broadway Joe, we managed to:
1. Sit in the front row and meet George Carlin.
2. Visit the Grand Opening of the Aladdin hotel, in which we walked out of an awful Enrique Iglesias concert.
3. Watch a dealer try to rip off Broadway Joe...oly to be called out on it by Steve Fatone. We received a complimentary dinner for 21 at the Brown Derby as an apology.
4. Watched Rita Rudner eat some cheese from a case which was methane gassed just minutes before by my cousin Steve.
5. We drank chivas regal and ate baked ziti as we traveled on a private jet.
6. Did I mention we had two penthouse suites?
7. Wow, I'm probably forgetting a ton, I'll have to ask Bazzuka where all that photo album is.

Anyway, now that I'm done daydreaming lets get down to business. I had a friend produce some pretty compelling evidence that Paul McCartney died in 1966 and an imposter has been living in his place for the last 43 years. He had comparative pictures and forensic evidence, whereas I would point to the songs "Comin Up" and "Silly Love Songs" , but most of all the decison to dye his 65 year old hair red as hope that hes an imposter.

Lets see, what else is goin on today? I heard CNN announce the US recession is over...thats great news. They also informed me that rising rates of unemployment and foreclosure combined with falling production and consumer spending is the strong irrefutable evidence the economy has rebounded...this is also great news. I am proud to be apart of a society that embraces such progressive ideas and outside the box thinking. I also have a similar theory that the best treatment for emphysema is smoking cigarettes...my proof is of course, the shrinking lung capacity.
CNN (surprisingly) reported that the Obamacare promotional team is taking to Craigslist to hire supporters for health care. Isn't the same site people were hiring hookers? Indeed Craig's become the place to meet pimps, crooks, and citizens looking to get screwed. I think I should apply for a job on their ad team. I can help them create some catchy slogans like:
"The price tag will make you sick...but we should be able to get you a doctor in a few months"
"Just eat some chicken soup...until your appointment in March."
"Your temperature is 101...thats a little high, your tax rate is 95%...thats a little low"

"

When the White House tells me "I hope you know this will go down on your permanent record," I can't help but reply, out loud "oh yeah? Well don't get so distressed; did I happen to mention that I'm impressed?"

Thank you, Violent Femmes for planting that in my brain some 25-or-so years ago. I hope they let us play some of those albums in the gulag (probably have NPR over loudspeakers 24/7 instead).

And here is the "after" shot. Notice that Cookie and Mojo can both lounge about as they romp through Nintendo DS landscapes and refuse to change their socks from yesterday.

Yes, it is finally summer around here: official temperature right now is 89. Got up early, opened the windows in my sunroom, and generally had some serious quality time as we had our breakfast and got geared up for the noon Mass.

It is such a great summer day that Alane has threatened to flee -- off to visit people who think 89 degrees requires closing oneself up in air conditioning. As for me, I don't mind getting my sweat on every once in a while -- for old time's sake, if nothing else. I suppose I should be more accommodating, being that Alane went out and busted her finger yesterday at volleyball practice. Someone ought to ask her about that.

Last night we sat outside with the neighbors and had a nice little campfire at the bottom of the next door driveway: roasted some marshmallows, ate some chocolate, polished off about half a bottle of port. Good clean living.

Steve, your opposition to these policies has been declared "reprehensible" by the ruling party. Better watch your ass, lest SEIU enforcers decide to "act stupidly" on you.

Here, by the way, is a "before" picture of what Aunt Marie has dubbed the new "Florida Room" here at Berea-Rose.

Mojo was lounging earlier this week, thinking life was sweet.

Oooooh, Sfingi...they are gonna get you for that. Is it just me, or has it gotten to the point where ordering the red snapper can get you accused of right wing extremism? Ironically, no one considers it extremism to usurp the banking, insurance, auto, and now the healthcare industries from private enterprise. Anyway, back to the cash for clunkers: I think it seems to fit the administration's business model: use public money to buy 100 dollar clunkers for 4500 each, then try to recoup the loss by throwing them away. Dont wanna risk anything less than a total loss. I think the new slogan should be "Save More at The Tank...Pay More to the IRS".

Anyway, I made some manicotti last weekend, and although I was quite pleased with my performance, I decided next time I will be departing from convention. As I mixed the ricotta and mozzarella for the filling, I thought about making my favorite calzones...they always have an extra element to the cheese. I like throwing in fried peppers or crushed meatballs or sausage or onions and ham. So how come no one ever stuffs manicotti this way? I not only believe it can be done, I believe it should be done. O' Sullivan believed in manifest destiny....well I believe in Manicott' Destiny.

So last nite Jennie is jonesing for a pizza. So we place our order: one half: sausage, onions and mushroom and the other half: onions, pineapple and jalapenos.
So clearly she has broken a holy commandment: though shalt not ever put fruit on pizza. What is the proper punishment for such a violation and how do we expunge such a deplorable habit?

By the way, Vin went to the mall yesterday. He disappeared and then reemerged with Shrek and Superman Returns on DVD. There is just no predicting that man.

Margaret Thatcher was ahead of her time when she predicted that "the problem with Cash for Clunkers is eventually it runs out of other people's money."

How true. And while I don't want to harsh on anyone's hate-fest, I really have to ask: if health insurers really have such outsized profits, why haven't competitors sprung up to snag a share of those windfalls? I mean, it's not like there are many other investment opportunities available today -- if running a health insurance company really spun off such fat returns, I'd expect start-up companies to be flooding the zone, taking a whack at the big guys, happily settling for half their exalted margins.

I asked the same question last year when everyone had their hate on about the oil companies. Much was made of the flush quarterly results they reported about this time last year. But was it enough to attract new investments and new entrants into the field? No. And that tells me the profits weren't quite what the critics made them out to be. Yeah, they are both heavily regulated (and heavily taxed) industries -- I suspect that has something to do with it. But targeting them because they made money? Nature already has a mechanism for addressing real, versus perceived, shortages. If you believed what you were saying you'd be a mensch and start a company that delivers better value at a better price. Put your money where your mouth is; stop feeding the pimp-eyed politicians.

Steve, even you are too well-dressed for us to consider your objections authentic. I'm reporting all the fishy things you have said. Do e-mails have size limitations?

Another wintry summer morning here in the Soviet Socialist Republic of Ohio. No matter how Steve baits me I will not be criticizing any pending legislative efforts, no matter how disastrous -- I know the Stasi has eyes. And hey, we're all in it together!

Just brought Da Chimpz to their day camp. Out the window I see my lawn is just about completely brown. Mid-summer norm, but I always thought it was the heat that does it. It'll pick up again next month -- just as the weather gets even cooler and we have even less desire to be outside. That's when the grass will be lush. Figures.

The weather stations haven't reported any atmospheric disturances on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. But have they measured for psychic disturbances? Someone, please report...

So after months of continuous verbal and literary assault by Sfingi, I've decided today to make my triumphant return to The Macaroni Dish. I was watching the news today and heard it was our President's birthday, and then they show him hanging out with Kim Jong Il...now thats what I call a shitty surprise party. I was priviliged to observe the rapid fire efficiency and execution of government operations today as I waited an hour at the courthouse to discover that the counterperson could not reprint me a title because Chrysler Financial needed to mail them a letterhead saying its okay. It made me wonder if 2 trillion dollars burnt in a California brush fire and nobody heard it...would it make a sound? Not on MSNBC. So, Sfingi baits me today by sending me this picture to see how I interpret the artists message. Is it a political joke about raising taxes? Is it suggesting the President is a diabolical supercriminal? I'm not really sure, what I am sure of is whenever the Joker robbed innocent people, at least he admitted to it. So I was intrigued by Johns last entry that he left the window open and got a cool draft...if I leave a window open here, I'm pretty sure all my furniture would melt and Jennie and I would explode into flame. Lets see what else, don't know if there was any mention of a new BazzukaJoe-Mobile. He gotta nifty little Dodge Caliber in a bright metallic lava color...haha subtle as always. Lets see whats else has been goin on here...Ree turned 22 in style...with a lot of Singstar karaoke that included but was not limited to Ian and I singing Aha's Take On Me and Rio by Duran Duran. Ree's Facebook should have some pics. Well, anyway Ms. Tylka just walked in and I should put some grub on.

Okay, the new sofa should be arriving later this week. That means I better figure out how to get my wireless network to reach that back room -- otherwise I'm going to be offline for vast stretches of time. Which may not be so bad, if the couch is comfy. And the wine doesn't run out. Yeah, I could live without internets back there... ("supine with drink and splendidly comatose" as Faulkner once wrote).

And speaking of the back room, I left one of the windows open last night and when I went in there this morning I thought I'd stepped into October. Yeah, the sunshine was puring in, but it was friggin' cold -- this ain't no way to do August.