In case you haven't heard by now, Stephen Colbert (of the famed "Colbert Report") gave a scathing, balls-out performance at the White House Correspondent's dinner the other night. I won't be able to say this any better than any of the other bloggers, but Oh. My. God. If you haven't seen it yet, you really need to watch it. The skit is really uncomfortable in spots but so worth it. He's basically doing the same thing he does every night on his show, only this time he does it RIGHT IN FRONT of the very people he satirizes. W. himself was sitting just a few feet away during the whole thing, and boy did he looked pissed off; the rest of the audience basically sat in silence throughout, apparently stunned that anyone would have the TRUTHINESS to actually say what the entire country is thinking, damn the consequences. You really have to give it to the guy. Oh yeah, and it was pretty damn funny too, even if much of the humor was of the "Oh my god I can't believe the Secret Service hasn't shot him yet" variety.
In other news, there is no other news. My parents are coming to visit this weekend, which should be a hootenany. Actually, I'm looking forward to it since I haven't seen them for a year and it will give me a break from the routine. Also, free meals (I'm hoping). Now I've become one of those blogs where I recount the mundane details of my day-to-day existence without bothering to wonder if anyone actually cares about things like my self-tanning incident-of-horror. (Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details except to say that no one, under any circumtances, should buy L'Oreal's self-tanning spray. It just isn't worth it.)
I will tell you, however, that I am currently reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, and it's one of those books where reading it makes you want to sit down and write. Or start of a book club just so you can talk about it with other people.
Which reminds me, going back to the mundane details of my existence, that I quit my book club recently. I just decided I wasn't getting enough out of it to make it worth my while to leave work an hour early once a month and make the trek into DC. I had originally started going because I thought I would be able to meet like-minded people and make some friends, but then the group got very large and stupid people started showing up, and the stupid people ended up dominating most of the conversations to the point where discussions devolved into the more intelligent members of the group trying to explain the finer points of literary criticism to the idiots. And plus the group kept picking books that I had already read or had no interest in reading, and one group member (albeit one of the club founders) kept pushing the Communist Manifesto and I'm sorry, I just don't want to spend my free time pouring over Karl Marx right now.
So I'm looking for another book club and thinking about joining a writing group, and meanwhile enjoying books of my own choosing, thank you very much.
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