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Thursday, February 17, 2005
Survey Says: PERCOCET!
Mom update: The vicodin wasn’t cutting it, so mom begged her primary care doctor for something to mask the pain (of her unspecified, perhaps misdiagnosed, injury). The doctor ok’d some percocet, which is something of a controlled substance, so I had to pick up the prescription in person, take it to the pharmacy, and wait while it was filled. I’m surprised the pharmacy let me pick it up for her. I don’t look THAT much like a tweaked-out gutter-skank, but I could have just run off with them. I could have been anybody. On the other hand, I could’ve busted out the trusty ol’ Power of Attorney. Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Because there’s probably some clause that would’ve invalidated my trump card. That’s how the World works. Scott cannot have a trump card.

Oh, P.S.: The percocet didn’t help. On to Plan C. Horse drugs? Heroin?


I saw this band last night. If you’re on the East Coast, you may be able to catch them in the next few days. According to their schedule, after a brief rest at home, they’re headed West. They put on a great (and loud) live show. And their band name is (reportedly) Japanese for “playful sex.” I mean, what’s not to like?


You should know that I like doing this . . . blogging . . . thing. I don’t really see the point of Friendster or My Space, even though they have some blog-type features. I’m not dating, and I don’t want unsolicited “friends.” (Although, I signed up for the latter to interact with my friends in Pocket Novel Mystery.) This space is for expression . . . my expression. First and foremost. I mean, what better way is there for a slightly introverted and misanthropic person to communicate with a large group of people . . . all at once?

It started out simple enough, right? Casting an anonymous “voice” over the Intarweb. Not telling anyone, even the wife. But then I told one or two people. And added comments. And an e-mail account. And, pretty soon, I was brushing up against other people. Exchanging ideas. Exchanging art (and other people’s art). Helping one another. Pretty soon, I have several friends (note the lack of quotation marks) that I wouldn’t have otherwise had. Where’s the harm?

I like to be honest here. And open. As of yet, there have been no serious repercussions for that honesty and openness. I think the benefits have far outweighed the ill-effects.

So, going forward:
-- Don’t judge me for what I write here.
-- No, I’m not stupid. In fact, I’m un-stupid in lots of ways.
-- Your children aren’t automatically spies.
-- There’s nothing I would tell a pack of “strangers” that I wouldn’t tell you.
-- I’m not looking to be Dooced, so I’m careful in writing about my job and the [nice, very competent, people] I work for.

And we love you, too. Very much.