Tomas Gurid

So last week I noticed I had a new commenter hanging around, someone who logged in anonymously, but always posted with a subject line of “Tomas Gurid.” I was flattered — for a while, all of the recent comments were “Tomas Gurid” — but then today I got a similar comment from someone else with a rather nonsensical name, “Gren Miller.” Hmmmm….

So I viewed the source of the comments page and noticed that after the three word comment, there followed a programming statement of:

“div style=”position: absolute; top: -1000px; left: -1000px; visibility: hidden;”

HIDDEN? What the fuck?

Turns out “Tomas Gurid” uses these minimalistic, poor-English comments to pollute blogs with ads for his crappy-ass online poker website. The thing is, this spam can't be seen by the person viewing the page, unless they choose the “View Source” option on their browser software. Maybe it assists with search-engine ranking; I don't know. All I know is that I've deleted all but one of his comments (for verity's sake), and will continue to do so. I've also added his IP addresses to my firewall so he can't post.

Now, I'm all for freedom of the web, which is why I've never deleted the series of harassing comments from my “movies movies movies” post a couple of months ago (well, that, and the hopes that the Comcast subscriber responsible for those posts will come back and post some more). But I will not be played for free advertising for sucky, black-market Web sites. And I'll google and technorati “Tomas Gurid” to let the webmasters of other sites he's commented on know what nefarious tricks he's up to.

Stamp out Tomas Gurid! Tomas Gurid no more!

I Need a Favor from You

Professor Harvey B., the person from whom I have learned the most in an academic setting, has just informed me that he's been “offered the opportunity for a heart transplant,” and expects the operation will take place in early September at the Stanford Medical Center.

I cannot overstate the impact this man has had on my life. It was the paper I wrote for his Myth and Symbolism class that I presented at the Chico State EGSC conference — the conference where I met a fellow co-panelist who, a year and a half later, became my husband. Harvey was also the person who opened my eyes to the magnificence of Britian's finest poet, artist, mystic, and prophet, and his legacy will live on in my son's middle name, “Blake.”

I'm stuck here on the other coast and, being pregnant, can't even give blood in his name. So, please, if you're eligible, donate some blood this week in thanks for Harvey, and pray to whichever all-powerful force you believe in, be it God, Yahweh, Jesus, Shakespeare, Fellini, or that cute Golden Retriever puppy down the street. As a leading scholar of myth and symbolism, it will all be the same to Harvey, I feel certain.


Well, based upon my “Best Compliment Ever” post, the Comtesse sent me an online quiz to determine my loyalty to the Republican party. Here's how I did:

    Republican Loyalty Quiz: 10 Questions to Test Your Allegiance to the GOP

    Your score is 2 on a scale of 1 to 10. You are a devoted Democrat. You tend to walk in lockstep with the party, even if you have not agreed with every decision Democratic leaders have made. The few differences you have are nothing compared to your complete and utter contempt for the Republican Party and the intolerance, fanaticism, and warmongering for which it stands.

Huh. Well except for the “devoted Democrat… walk in lockstep” sentences, the rest of it seems about right.

Take the quiz yourself and post a comment here about how you did. C'mon, it's fun!

The Filthiest Movie Ever

I remember when the “Sin City” trailers hit the Internet. “I don't want this to be one of those movies we say we're going to see and then we don't,” I told darling husband. He nodded and went out for a smoke.

We never saw it in the theater. So today, when we went to the artsy-fartsy video store for two-for-one day and saw it on the new releases rack, I snatched it up like so much fresh popcorn with hot melted butter.

We finally watched it tonight. And really, all I should really need to say is, “I feel guilty for exposing my unborn son to it.” But, being the motormouth I am, I'll go a few paragraphs better.

“Sin City” is the filthiest movie I've ever seen. This includes “Pink Flamingos.” Hell, it even includes “Sex World,” a porno I saw in my early years of babysitting. Right around the scene with the heads mounted on the wall and the cannibalism, I turned to monstro and said, “I can't believe they got away with an R rating.” This is not NC-17, children, but X. Maybe even triple-X. The women are pieces of meat who get all the shittiest lines, usually right before the ultraviolence kicks in. The men are all wanna-be noir, directed by people who don't have the slightest clue as to what noir really is. If this is lifted from Miller's graphic novels (much more graphic than novel), then I feel remorse for the trees who gave their lives. It's not only pointless, but full of holes; a world where all the women, even the 11-year-old virgins, will grow up to become objects, and the craggy, two-brain-cell men will stop at nothing to “protect” them. Everyone dies, or loses a piece of themselves, in the process. Especially the audience.

Oh, and if that's not enough to keep you away from it, consider this: it's shot so poorly, that Jessica Alba looks like Hilary Duff.

Thank God we got it for free. If we'd paid $17 of our hard-earned money to see it in the theater, I'd have asked for my money back after the first 30 minutes.

Save yourselves. Avoid “Sin City.” Read a nice book, instead: like I'm going to, right now, to get the taste of it out of my brain, and hopefully salvage the damage I've just done to our little unborn baby.

The Blog Days of Summer

Ahh, August. It's hot and humid and sticky. And all my blog buddies have been on hiatus. If not for the recent drama of For Better or For Worse or (gasp) Funky Winkerbean, I'd be bored out of my head. Nesting, but bored. So I've been praying; it's a good way to pass the time, and almost as good as petting a cat for lowering one's blood pressure.

To paraphrase Mister Rogers, here are the people on my prayer list:

    George W. Bush: I pray that he wakes the fuck up and especially that he drops the hypocritical “I'm a Christian” bullshit, because kids, you know what? He ain't.

    Adrienne: Bob's daughter, because she's going to Iraq, all thanks to the above.

    Juliana: Heading back home after an abysmal summer internship in India.

    Katie's Dad: Because his dementia was recently worsened by a drug, which he's now off, so he's doing better than he was, but he's still not on top of his world.

    Avram: Because he's preparing to move, and moving sucks, and because I'm hoping that a bunch of the kids from the youth group I used to lead show up at his doorstep to help him pack all his very cool stuff. So that's a double prayer. And also because he just sent me a ukalele, which holds a great deal of meaning to me, and I'm still trying to work out how to blog about that.

    The Drivler: Because it's fun to pray for heathens!

    Everyone involved in my recent victorious unemployment claim: Because justice was served, and once again we can afford both to be clothed and to eat (and at the same time!). And because it has justified me, and it always feels good to be justified, especially if there's a weekly check that goes along with the justification.

    Anonymous: For posting a nice comment about my “Scape Goat Song” blog, which was written while in the throes of the above.

    And, of course, Monstro: Because he's lived with a pregnant woman for nearly eight months now and has still nearly managed to quit smoking!

So, if you're bored this August too, and have a half a minute, think a good thought for one of the above, wouldja?


Ring in the Cow-Bell!

OK, so it appears that Christopher Walken is not running for president. But, having spent two hours today talking with people about who the hell *should* run for president in 2008 (and having our best answer be “John McCain,” which isn't much of an answer at all, and drawing a complete BLANK on the Democrat side), I think the time has come for us to rise up and demand that Walken toss his hat into the ring.

So please, cruise over to the Walken 2008 comments page and show your support. It won't happen without your help.

A 2008 Candidate with more… Cow-Bell!

To: Friends, Family, and my fellow Americans
Subject: Get America Back On Track!

It's not too early to be thinking about the future of this country and who's going to lead it. Election after election we're given the “choice” between two unappealing candidates and have no choice but to vote for the one we dislike less. But now, that's about to change.

Stepping up to the forefront of politics is a new type of leader, motivated by his love for his country, not special interest groups. His distinct image and captivating voice you already know, and now it's your chance to make him the leader of the people, for the people, by the people. That's right… Christopher Walken is running for President.

Now, at this early stage of the campaign, is when the grass-roots voters like us can really influence the candidates we'll see in the elections. So take a few minutes to visit the Walken 2008 Home Page at, read about the man and his ideas, and send them a message of your support.

This is how the system should work, and now's your chance to have your voice. Don't let it slip away!


Back from Ohio

Spent the weekend in Ohio, at the wedding of Dean, one of my two remaining friends from my high school. My other remaining friend was the best man, whose wife is also pregnant and due a month and a day after I am. I was the reader, and my rendition of the “Apache Wedding Poem” moved Dean's stepsister to tears.

Damn, I'm good.

I got my hair done before the ceremony (in hopes of distracting the guests from my ever-blossoming belly. And I got to meet a mess of Dean's aunts and cousins, so I feel like I spent the weekend at my own family reunion after a memory-decimating head injury. And the lesbian vampire joke I've been saving for this very occasion, which I told to Dean's stepfather at the rehearsal dinner, had made the rounds to all the family by the reception, and everyone groaned, which is what they should have done because it's the dirtiest joke I think I've ever known.

But the best part of the whole weekend (at least, the in-public part of the weekend) was when one groomsman said to another, in reference to me, “I don't care what anybody thinks. I think she's sexy as hell.” And then the other groomsman agreed!

Swoon. Thank you, Gap Maternity!