It's a lovely snowy day outside, huge chunky powder flakes falling. It would be great snow for skiing, except this country doesn't have more than a couple hundred feet change in elevation in the whole country. Some Dutch people, needled by my sizeist American attitude toward their "mountains" have tried to point out that some of them are as much as seven hundred feet above sea level. I'm pretty sure the change in elevation between my house at the beach and the UCSC campus was more than 700 feet. But, you know, they have socialized health care and pensions, a good school system, legalized soft drugs and prostitution, and we have big fucking mountains. So that works out, then.
There is a chain of clothing stores here that are using the lyrics from Ani Di Franco's "32 Flavors" as an ad campaign for skimpy clothing (i.e. "I'm a sinner/I'm a saint/I do not feel ashamed/I'm your hell/I'm your dream/I'm nothing in between") and I can't help but think that this might not have been what Ani had in mind.
Finally, how great is it that this kid in Alaska makes a "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" sign, gets suspended for it, sues his school, and finds that groups on the religious right are backing him? Truth, still and always stranger than fiction.
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