Battlestar Galactica, Christmas Car, and Saturday Song Salute

Not very long ago I finished watching Battlestar Galactica (the 2004 series, not the original 1978). The purpose of this blog entry is not to adorn this masterful series with gratuitous verbage, but to merely inform you of it's exquisite existence and to share the following quote I enjoyed from the final season:

"Have you ever seen a star go supernova? No? Well, I have. I saw a star explode and send out the building blocks of the Universe. Other stars, other planets and eventually other life. A supernova! Creation itself! I was there. I wanted to see it and be part of the moment. And you know how I perceived one of the most glorious events in the universe? With these ridiculous gelatinous orbs in my skull. With eyes designed to perceive only a tiny fraction of the EM spectrum. With ears designed only to hear vibrations in the air. I don't want to be human. I want to see gamma rays! I want to hear X-rays! I want to smell dark matter! Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can't even express these things properly because I have to conceptualize complex ideas in this stupid limiting spoken language. But I know I want to reach out with something other than these prehensile paws. And feel the wind of a supernova flowing over me. I'm a machine! And I can know much more, I can experience so much more! But instead, I'm trapped in this absurd body."

Moving on.

This morning I awoke with a hangover and found my kitchen empty of the crucial items needed to stabilize my aching brain (coffee, coconut water, breakfast). So, despite the frigid early A.M. temperature, I clothed myself double ply and began my walk to Safeway. Why was I walking, you ask? Two reasons: A) because the grocery store is very close, and B) click here. My car keeps letting me down. I've replaced the engine, the clutch, the transmission, and still it wants even more from me. It desires the tender coils of my insides, my first-born child, my favorite possession. I refuse to give it these things, I refuse to give in to the machine.

Okay, back to my morning walk. On my short journey to grocery bliss I passed by an interesting sight. I noticed a man decorating his car in steep Christmas fervor, and so I approached him and struck up a conversation. This fella was quite nice and welcomed my interest in his rolling work of art. Here are a few pictures I took (with his consent):

We need more people like this on planet earth. Most of us wouldn't fathom driving around in a vehicle such as this, but this guy excitedly recited how the Rudolph ornament was the catalyst that spawned the rest of his automotive creativity. Once he attached that red-nosed reindeer to the hood, the rest was history. In the second pic down you can see him attaching a motorized bubble machine to the roof. Yes, that's correct, a bubble machine. As he drives along through town he leaves a trail of soap bubbles behind him. I ask you, dear readers, how fantastic is that shit?

Upon returning to my apartment I realized something while putting all the food away: I forgot to use the "5 dollar off" coupon I had been saving for over a week. I'm such a 1/4 Jew sometimes.

In closing, I will remind you that today is Saturday Song Salute, and today I salute the venerable British folk singer/songwriter, Richard Thompson, for his song "Why Must I Plead". This song can be found on the 1991 Rumor And Sigh album. Sit back, put your headphones on, click play on the video below, and read along with the posted lyrics as you listen to yet another amazing Saturday Song Salute:

Why Must I Plead
by Richard Thompson

All your bitterness and lies sting like tears in my eyes
And a thousand lovesick tunes
Won't wash away the wounds from my mind

You've been seen around, you're a new sensation
You got a better deal and you took his invitation
You've been sitting on his lap and taking his dictation

Oh but mercy, we used to love all day and drive all night
Oh mercy, jealousy used to whet your appetite
Oh mercy, we were low as dogs and high as kites

Why must I plead with you darling
Why must I plead with you darling
Why must I plead with you darling for what's already mine

My friends are indiscreet and I sing myself to sleep
I don't mind the red wine
Or the pickup line as long as it's cheap

Well, I ask you what's wrong and you say I'm all yours
I ask you who your friend is and you say it's Santa Clause
I ask you to come home, you say you're tired of being indoors

Oh but mercy, you know you signed on that dotted line
Oh mercy, well you signed yours and I signed mine
Oh mercy, you said forever till the end of time

Why must I plead with you darling
Why must I plead with you darling
Why must I plead with you darling for what's already mine

I said, why must I plead with you darling for what's already mine