Only a heartless shrew would criticize mock a blog post that details what a bunch of kids between the ages of four and eight think love means. Right?

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.”
—Tommy (age 6)

Because, judging from the comments it has gotten, the damned thing made everyone moist in the knickers.

Admittedly, I am the resident heartless shrew here at CMGs Unite. Still, I thought the kids’ answers were poignant. I did not, however, find the whole thing uplifting in any way.

I mean, I hate to be a buzz kill, but you know as well as I do, these kids will grow up to be vacuous shits with dysfunctional relationships … just like us. Might as well have titled it “Graphic Example of How Life Beats the Wonder out of You without You Realizing It.”

Damned kids. Send them all to the Richard Dawkins School for the Deluded, I say.

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• Momofuku Ando. “Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Give him ramen noodles, and you don’t have to teach him anything.”
• Patches O’Houlihan. “If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball.”

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The day I and millions of other techy geeks have been waiting for has finally arrived. (Yuh huh. There are too millions of techy geeks.)

Sorry, Palm. It’s been fun, but you were just keeping the sheets warm while I searched for The One.

Update: The Apple Web site is slow as molasses … no surprise here. But you can try to check out the new iPhone here if you like watching Web pages load.

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I’m loving the new(-to-me) super-niche blog thing. I found this wicked site for a friend of mine who’s into typography and book design. Kewl. This one for a friend who likes food and frugality. Score.

Today, I found my own dream niche blog, which focuses on the only thing I like love more than funny bumper stickers … funny t-shirts. There are far too many piss-your-pants hysterical ones for me to even begin listing them, but I will say, Star Wars fans, you won’t be disappointed.

Here’s a peek at one that combines two current loves of mine—Jesus humor and puns.

I’m not sure exactly when I turned into a teenage boy, but the metamorphosis is nearly complete.

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That’s “Welcome to the New Year” for those of you who don’t speak German or know how to use Babel Fish. I hope everyone made it into 2007 in one piece. For my part, I am happily hangover-free and, nonetheless, still in my PJs well after sunset.

It only seems like yesterday that I was fending off resolutions and dying of mono. Oh, Time’s wingèd chariot and all that. This year, though, I have decided to do the resolution thing again. I mean, what’s so bad, really, about an arbitrary goal that owes its existence largely to an arbitrary holiday? Arbitrary and meaningful don’t have to be mutually exclusive. No, they do not.

Initially, I toyed with the idea of resolving to be more concise. Brevity and exactness are qualities I’ve always admired but never much possessed. According to one friend, however, my general lack of focus and loquacious nature are both part of my charm. Who knew? I’m certainly not so flush in the charm department that I’m gonna just throw some away … especially since being chatty and diffuse come so naturally for me.

So, what big resolution did I settle on, you ask? Well, I resolved to learn how to keep my own counsel.

See it recently occurred to me that the approximate ratio of times I’ve said just enough to times I’ve said waaaay too much/too little has got to be somewhere around 1:9. And the too little-to-too much ratio’s somethin’ like 1:4 or 1:5.

That’s just not enough just enough and waaaay too much too much.

For example, just last week I said, “There are a lot of lesbians in [area town known for its large lesbian population],” to an openly gay woman in my office outloud. All I can figure is that it was a fragment of a thought in formulation. Why did I say it? If I only knew. Sometimes I just open my mouth and stuff comes out … stuff that makes me wish rapping one’s own forehead with a closed fist was more socially acceptable.

Wish me luck. I suspect I’ll be needin’ all I can get.

Smell ya later, 2006.

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