I’m humming the song from “The Jeffersons” and calling myself Weezy.

In M.’s current company, he’s been learning a lot and rising to the next challenge. It looks like the next challenge may be an air of legitimacy. Instead of fighting the good fight of hoping a start-up takes off, he got an offer from a rather more established place. One that actually appears in business mags, rather than wallowing in obscurity and praying for annointment by a VC or angel.

He’s gonna have a fucking office.

We might have to celebrate Chiney style, given that tomorrow is the 15th day of the 8th lunar month. You gotta eat cake, with which I’m down. But, wikipedia.org provides the following:

Yup, check me out, I’m going to be dancing around with a citrus fruit chapeau. Partying like it’s Moon Festival FEVA!

What can I say, when bits and pieces of the website break, I follow suit. Maybe it’s allegorical somehow, but I can’t lay off until I fix the little shit on this here mentally tiny shit website.

I installed totally different photo gallery software. I used “Gallery” before, but I think I’m digging “Gallery 2” way more. Especially, since I can get it to integrate with my Mac iPhoto gallery. From my camera to my ‘puter to the web in three steps, I’m hoping.

I can still embed. Now I just have to re-fucking shoot me-upload a shit load of pictures and possibly, if I feel like it, stop pressuring me, fix all of the old posts with pics.

In the actual news, my favorite story of the week — the drunk? queer? diddling? (or maybe just hoping) former Congressman Mark Roberts. He’s even giving possible pedophiles a bad name.

My favorite, and by favorite I mean, what the holy fucking god on christ are you doing? part of the now floating the web and news channels transcript of the Instant Messages is:

Maf54 (7:54:31 PM): where do you unload it

Maf54 (7:55:51 PM): cute butt bouncing in the air

Um, not even two words, I have two letters — ew. Just Ewwwww.

Ann “the Cunt” Coulter and Sean “I’m not psychotically angry I’m political” Hannity used the revelations as an intro to whining about Clinton yet again. Let’s see, banging a willing 22-year-old, on the one hand, and creepy old man drooling on cyberspace, yeah, right, I can see how they align.

I guess the big issue is, in Watergate-ese, what did Speaker Hastert know and when did he know it and did he only get a hold of the G-rated conversations. All right let’s break that down a little. First, um, roomful of lawmakers, so maybe they should like know about legal shit and figuring out the lines. Some teenagers who work in this place for reasons of a 300-year-old tradition slip you some printouts from the old PC saying they’re from one of your guys.

Let’s say Hastert only has the light-weight, “Hey, when you coming back to DC,” not lecher version. Still and all, aren’t you scratching your head and thinking, “What the fuck is this 50-something shmoe doing tap, tap, tap in that little AIM chat window?” Maybe I’m wrong, because I don’t actually know any 50 or so year old Congressman, but are they big IM’ers? Do they all have cutesy handles and chat up teens? That would seem unusual to me.

Then, let’s say as Speaker of the House, you’re kind of supervisory. Somewhere in the hallways of the fucking House of Reps, you overhear a page saying “There goes FFF,” because apparently the hip name behind Foley’s back was “Foley the Florida Faggot,” or something with Foley, Faggot and Florida. Presumably, you’re not a total dumb guy, as Speaker, although Commander in Chief is a different job description, somewhere this comment registers. As a perceptive grown up, you say, hmmm, what’s up with the pages knowing about Foley’s little secret?

And you worry and look into the deal with the IMs. Or you give the secret GOP handshake and figure “aw, fuck it.”

Nice

Because ne'er-do-wells abound in the virtual world, I upgraded my photo gallery and weblogging software for needed security.

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