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First and foremost, if anybody's got the first episode of the new Dr. Who and can hook a sister up, I'd be most obliged.

Second, I'm trying to decide if after I get the stomach fixed I should focus on the allergies (and recurring bouts of sinus infections and sinusitis) or switch over to the dental work that needs doing. It strikes me as quite sad that it's an either/or situation, but my income allows only so much health care at a time.

Third, I'm down to my last two student loan payments, and I might just be able to handle them both this month and be done. Free at last, free at last!

Fourth, I had a window of time yesterday where I felt no stomach pain at all. It lasted about 3 hours and was a glorious thing. Felt wretched afterwards, but oh that 3 hours was so delightful. Today I'm back up to the regular level of pain and nausea, and this also strikes me sad...I mean I have a "regular" level of pain now. There was a time when regular meant no pain at all. Gosh I miss those days. But I talk to the GI on Thursday and maybe we can get this whole thing moving again. For now I learn to suck it up and cope.

Your star in a circle ain't welcome on your memorial

via The RudePundit:

Another scrotum bludgeoning is courtesy of the Department of Veteran's Affairs, which, in case you didn't know, has a list of approved religious markers for headstones for dead soldiers for its cemeteries and memorials. Christian, Muslim, Serbian Orthodox, Tenrikyo, you die for your country, and the symbol of your faith can be displayed for all eternity on your grave. Fuck, if you're an atheist, they got a symbol for that - looks like a nuclear atom, but, what the hell, you know. Except if you're a Wiccan.

Yep, if you're a nature-worshippin' pagan, motherfucker, doesn't matter if you left half your internal organs festering on the hillsides of Afghanistan. Your star in a circle ain't welcome on your memorial. So when Wiccan soldier Patrick Stewart of Nevada died when his Chinook helicopter was shot down by an RPG, his family wanted to emblazon his plaque on the memorial wall for Nevada vets with the Wiccan pentacle. Turns out, though, for Veterans Affairs, freedom of religion means the agency decides how you're free to worship. They were told, "Nope. Not on the approved list. Go fuck a tree."

Sure, sure, this'll all be solved soon when the right forms go through the right offices and the right stamps are placed on the right documents, but, still, and all, is this censorship really something the government oughta be involved in at any level?

It's done...it's finished

If any of y'all heard some angels singing earlier, it was prompted by me signing off on the final student loan payment I will make in this life. Sallie Mae, you can kiss my flabby white ass, I am no longer your little bitch! I logged in to check my account and the payoff amount was well within my budget so off it went, wheeee!

I feel rather like Frodo having just rid myself of the ring, I can see colors, smell flowers, taste food again. Glory hallelujah!

Once I pay my car off that's it, no more debt, and gods willing, never again.

Wherein Ann Coulter gets the smackdown she so richly deserves

Class act that she is, Ann starts with:

But Ann went first, and set her tone for the entire evening. "It was fascinating being here for the demonstrations this weekend," she said with a snotty Darien sneer. "I guess that's why I didn't get clean towels in my hotel room this morning."

There was an audible gasp from the Jews. Ann continued: "I haven't seen so many agitated Mexicans since the World Cup Soccer Games were in L.A." As offended as the diners were, the waiters were pissed. Ann was actually dumb enough to drink her coffee afterwards.

Thankfully, Al managed to respond with intelligence, scathing wit, and actual humor. If Ann bothered to listen to anyone outside of the screeching voices in her head, she might have learned something. Alas, I doubt that was the case. But for your enjoyment:

An Evening with Ann Coulter: Opening Statement by Al Franken

COULTER DEBATE OPENING STATEMENT – UNIVERSITY OF JUDAISM

In her book Slander, Ann referred to Democrats and our “Marquis de Sade lifestyle.” I’ve been married for thirty years. Ann, you’re an attractive woman. And I know you support the president’s abstinence-only sex education. I want to congratulate you for saving yourself for your one true love.

[...]

Now this sort of deliberate misrepresentation contributes to a coarsening of our nation’s dialogue. Ann recently told an audience:

“We need somebody to put rat poisoning in Justice Stevens’ creme brulee,” Coulter said. “That’s just a joke, for you in the media.”

Here’s my question. What’s the joke? Maybe it’s a prejudice from my days as a comedy writer, but I always thought the joke had to have an operative funny idea. I’ll give you an example of a joke.

Like they do every Saturday night, two elderly Jewish couples are going out to dinner. The guys are in front, the girls riding in back. Irv says to Sid, “Where should we go tonight?”

Sid says, “How about that place we went about a month ago. The Italian place with the great lasagna.”

Irv says, “I don’t remember it.”

Sid says, “The place with the great lasagna.”

Irv says, “I don’t remember. What’s the name of the place?”

Sid thinks. But can’t remember. “A flower. Gimme a flower.”

“Tulip?” Irv says.

“No, no. A different flower.”

“Magnolia?”

“No, no. A basic flower.”

“Orchid?”

“No! Basic.”

“Rose?”

That’s it! Sid turns to the back seat. “Rose. What was the name of that restaurant…?”

That’s a joke. What exactly is the joke in “We need somebody to put rat poisoning in Justice Stevens’ creme brulee?” Is it the crème brulee? Is that it? Because Stevens is some kind of Francophile or elitist? Is it the rat poison? See, I would have gone with Drano. I’m really trying here, Ann. Please, when you come up, explain the joke about murdering an associate justice of the Supreme Court. One who by the way, was appointed to the Supreme Court by Gerald Ford, and who, also, by the way, won a Bronze Star serving in the Navy in World War II. What is the joke? ‘Cause I don’t get it.