I had a life-altering revelation during this morning's Easter celebration. I've got it all wrong - 'no more of this whole "journalism" thing. Indeed, my path lies elsewhere.


Liturgical dance.


...

I could have white streamers and everything, running up and down the aisle. Look, I know this might sound ridiculous but when a man has to dance, well, he's gotta dance. Hallelujah!


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A few other questions, from the last couple of days:

• If we changed the lexicon so that Southern California freeways were instead called "clusterfucks," would anyone have a problem with this? "Expect serious delays on the 405 Clusterfuck." OK, that might offend the sensitive tastes of some city residents ... "Clusterfricks"? We can all at least agree on clusterfricks, right? Show me one city council that would vote this down - I dare you.
  
  
• At this point, is Barry Bonds the George W. Bush to the San Francisco Giant organization's GOP? Think about it - he's a lame duck in every sense of the word...he even gimps around left field now like a veal who hasn't had his daily horomone shots. His approval ratings are beyond atrocious, he's always just one step away from indictment, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge any wrongdoing in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary - and now his massive unpopularity is starting to reflect on the Giants as a whole. They're starting to shift uncomfortably in their seats - distance themselves...just look at that "Trade Barry" billboard Topps Trading Cards put up near PacBell Park.
  
  
  
  Seriously, are we there yet? Almost? Because follow this analogy to its conclusion and the Dodgers are the Democrats. And this is a Dodger-Blue wet dream if ever there was one. Finally, the rest of the nation is waking up to how evil the Giants are - how tragically misled and out-of-touch and delusiounal the team's followers are - how the organization represents everything wrong in Sports. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you Barry!
  
  
• I just had an entertaining conversation with Racist Tostito's Fiesta Bowl Loser on the drive back to God's Country East. Quick question - Which do you prefer, given her new 23-year-old boyfriend: Do we stay with RTFBL or do we go with "Mary Kay"? I sort of prefer the latter.
  
  
• Why didn't I get a haircut this weekend? Christ I'm shaggy.
  
  
• Anyways, I told Mary Kay I rarely make the first move, and in the past that's turned out OK - I've still managed to land in some relatively good relationships. But lately I seem to only attract older medicated severely issue laden divorcees, with or without children, who frankly scare the shit out of me. Is this a rite of passage as you near 30 (not 20, as these posts would suggest), or does it just come with the God's Country East territory? So far the jury's out. Better question: Does it even matter? Either way I'm fucked.
  
  
• I had a special enterprise story looking at local church growth run on A-1 this morning - one I'd actually written more than a month ago, but the editors gloriously resurrected for this Easter morn. (Select "More Online" for the meat of the story.) I spent Thursday and Friday polishing it up, getting it up to snuff, etc.
  
  A couple of weeks ago, on a separate story, a source refused to tell me what he really thought of a certain local project on the record. "Please?" I insisted.
  
  No.
  
  Alright, well you can go ahead and tell me what you thought off-record, but then at least give me something I can use on the record, too? Fine. Deal.
  
  "Off the record? I think it sucks," the source said. "On the record, I think it's a 'great effort.'"
  
  So Friday night, after two more days of blood sweat and tears on a piece I've dubbed "The Church Story That Wouldn't Die" - sorta like Jesus - I ask one of my supervising editors: "Waddya think? Are we in good shape?"
  
  
  
  Her response: "I think it's a great effort."