Save The Teddy Bears!

You know, here at the Goo, we always appreciate it when adorability wins out over altruism. Sure, people are not willing to cut back on greenhouse gases simply for people. I mean, has that ever really worked? When was the last time people actually stopped having a war for the sake of the people? But polar bears: they're a constant source of adorability. Also, my childhood most beloved toy, Joe Bear (he looks just like the picture except for the fact that he's a lot greyer, the felt on his nose is worn off, and due to an unfortunate incident of fraternal abuse, he now has an asshole). The LA Times puts it in the most practical terms:

In the polar bear, the [Bush] administration may have met its match. This isn't just any animal — it is a creature at once majestic and cuddly, the star attraction at countless zoos and featured in so many TV commercials it practically qualifies for a SAG card. If that's not enough, the same type of habitat loss threatening the bears' survival also endangers the penguin, which had a better year at the box office than all but a few humans.

You know, I used to think that the way forward for the environmental movement was to make environmentalism a moral issue- appeal to Christian conservatives and make it an issue of taking care of God's green earth, as well as making environmentalism a business issue- it's in the best interest of corporations to go green for their long-term profits- if the Libertarians can buy it, so can the fiscal conservatives.

As it turns out, all this coalition building is totally unnecessary. All we need to do is start my new campaign:

GLOBAL WARMING KILLS SANTA

Seriously, there would be ads with half-built toys abandoned, reindeer refugee camps, piles of elfin bodies,- it would be the New War On Christmas. Ooooh! Copyright and trademark!

We're BACK!

First things first: depending on how things go around work (whether or not they decide to give us the day off, which ain't looking great at the moment), Gerald Ford may replace Lincoln as my favorite president. After all, I haven't actually gotten a day off due solely to Lincoln since they made that b.s. "President's Day" holiday combining Washington and Lincoln's birthdays. I can cry over Ford if need be. C'mon, he's like the Millard Fillmore of the 20th Century!

Moving right along. I'm back from the wilds of Cinnaminson, NJ. The full report is forthcoming, for now I'll just say that I think all involved enjoyed my presence, although it may have just been my presents. For now, I'm just going to rest on my ginormous mound of loot. As it turns out, unbeknownst to me, the Object had actually been paying attention to little things I mention in passing, and for the pressies, he gave what amounts to my list of semi-secret desires:

Old School Sesame Street: This is no mere singalong with Elmo, which until quite recently, was all that was offered. No, these are the original episodes and highlights, put together for my viewing pleasure. Now I can stop calling in late to work, pretending that I'm hungover so that I can drink tea on the couch and watch Plaza Sesamo. The best part? No Elmo. Actually, the best part is Gordon's sweet muttonchop sideburns.

Salsa Lizano: The most delicious condiment ever. Impossible to find and pay less than a bajillion dollars. Somehow, he managed it. Since Christmas, everything I've eaten has been drizzled with Salsa Lizano. Putting it on ginger cookies were a little weird, sure, but sacrifices must be made for the sake of deliciousness.

Dinosaur Hand Puppet: To be fair, the Object's parents gave me this one, and it's really been an asset at work the last few days. Nobody wants to fuck with a dinosaur. Or, possibly, no one wants to fuck with a grown woman wielding a dinosaur hand puppet and singing along to Sesame Street in a dinosaur voice. I don't care; it works.

Maus: Apparently, the Object searched far and wide to find a cool, unique book that I haven't read. Too bad that right before Christmas, he saw Sommer get a whole bunch of graphic novels. He turned to me and asked, "What do you think of graphic novels?" I got all effusive, "YEAH! I really do! I mean, I've only read one or two of them, there's this uhMAZEing one about the Holocaust called Maus!" The conversation turned, but for the rest of the night, all he would say to me was, "I hate you." By now, you've all guessed that yes, Maus is the sah-weet amazing book he searched far and wide for. While I feel bad that I have actually read every book already, making the Object's quest not so worthwhile, I don't have my own copy of Maus, nor had I read it since my internship at the Holocaust Museum. And I use "had," as I have already now devoured both volumes.

And that's just barely scratching the surface of awesomeness.

Speaking of awesomeness, how much does it suck to be Michael Steele today? I mean, I guess it's his own fault: having Mike Tyson stump for you is a little like having Marion Barry as your campaign manager.

Technical Difficulties

You know, I used to be really into the war on Christmas, but lately, it's just gotten so commercialized.

Yes, I will post again soon, but not for a few days, as a Very Jersey Christmas is coming, and it's going to take me a lot of time to figure out how to get the Object's pressie in his car without him seeing it. And I also need to mke a new template. In the meantime, you can all do what I do when I've read through all the blogs on the RSS- go over to Pain in the English and discuss grammar in all its pedantic glory! Ooooh, then see where you stand in the fight for dialectic supremacy (heh!)

Live Blogging The Yindie Off

Thursday Morning: Like El Guapo, I too must learn the lesson: no esta bien de bebir y blogir. My liveblog account of the Decemberist on Colbert follows. I had grand intentions of editing this to make it briliant, but I have a deadline to meet. So here ya go:

11:31 p.m. Morley Saphir, ohhhhhhhh air o' legitimacy!

11:32: The Goo officially endorses the The Decemberist. But I would have much rather seen a green screen challenge ofThe Island.

11:33: "The second of the Lincoln Douglas debates starts with Douglass asking for a joint session." True story: when I was taking Civil War History in college, I read that line out loud in class and snickered, "hahaha, joint session." KLASSY.

11:34: Where's the rest of the band? Jenny Conlee? AUGH! That's ok, Chris Funk is no mere consolation prize. I wish he had the giant whale with him. I would love to see him take on Colbert inside a whale.

11:36 My witness will attest that I called coriander as rhyming with salamander before Stephen. Philander would also have worked.

11:38: Apples in Stereo : better in mono. Or not at all. Te Object is using this to distract me into losing this hand of gin. Overall, he is winning, 76-3. The student has become the master. Sorry, Gabe, The Object will have to outline the story for you, since I'm not telling. It makes me look like a total ass. And I'm not dumb; it TOTALLY was trickery.

11:40 SHREDOWN. Chris Funk!!!!! Oooh, maybe he has a hurdy gurdy! Where's the whale?!?!?

11:41- Wow, Anthony DeCurtis, very cleverly alliterative.

Tim Anderson: whizaWAIT A MINUTE!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Elliot Spitzer TOTALLY gets my vote. In, um, 2010. And only if he votes foBUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! He said "Bring In THE noise. Sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say.
Sick of noting time. That means it time for bullet mode!

• Chris Funk, what is that peice of art in your hands?
• All I want in life is Henry Kissinger as my ringtone saying, "Stephen, it is time to rock." In case any of you are wondering what to get me for Christmas...
• Ohhhh, nice fingering, Chris Funk! The Object says, "um, not very coherent."
• FOUR NECKED GUITAIR!!!!! Object just wet himself.
• Henry Kissinger: "Stephen, Crank it up." Heh. Kinda makes me forget about all the crimes against humanity.
• Um, not to sound like John Cusack, but is that Peter Fucking Frampton?
• The Object would like you to know that the Led Zeppelin song in the Armani perfume commercial is "When the levy breaks." I would rather have you know that I think that Dunkin' Donuts commercial where they say, "Fritalian" is funny.
• Object wants to know who gets a six pack of beer for a Christmas pressie. Fuck. I hope I saved the receipt.
• 11:55- OOOOOOH! Show's back!
• Who's riding whose coattails now?
  
  WHATWHATWHAT?
• AUGH! Hyperliterate! Drives me crazy! Bad adjective! UGH! You either can read or you can't! LITERARY!
• Ohhhh, I hope my office gets a gift basket of $20 bills, cuz the executive diretor is gone and I'll reap the bounty. I already got a smoked salmon.
• The American people won? Fuck that, the yindies won. BEST PRIZE EVER! Especially sioce that stupid rigged DCist contest. Seriously, I was ROBBED. I want Carson Ellis art more than anyone in this town; I guarantee you.
• Wait, I'm sorry, they could get Rick Nelson, and Peter Fucking Frampton, and Henry Kissinger, but not the rest of the Decemberists? What gives?

I have had a LOT of vodka, but I feel we can legitimately call Chris Funk the winner. He could back that up with a whale, but he doesn't even need to.

This Is a Stupid Game

This week is all about waiting. Lame.

Things which I am waiting for this week:

Monday: F.W. Thomas tonight. Am very curious about THIS cartoon, if only because if there are pregnant little pears running around, that means I can ask the question I've been dying to ask: "So, you've got a dingo snack in the bush, huh?" Heh.

Tuesday: My triumphant return to workplace yoga. Yoga IS a competition people, and I WILL BE THE BEST. Ha, last week at physical therapy, the PT said that it was ok to start doing some very gentle yoga and pilates. I asked if that meant running and wearing high heels. She didn't think that was funny. That sad part is, I wasn't joking. I wonder if My FSA lose-it-or-use-it money goes towards the purchasing of flats that my physical therapists said I have to wear. Namely, these.

Wednesday: The battle for the title of Yindie Superstar.

Thursday: A certain SOMEONE who has been living in a so-called "Indian Subcontinent" for a year will come HOME!

Friday: In theory, this should be date night, as The Object has tickets to any AMC theater that expire at the end of the month, and this is our last chance really to cash them in. But I'm worried about date night, as The Object resorted to TRICKERY to win a bet in which the loser would plan the next date night. Ugh, I've tried to write about the whole sordid affair a few times, but words cannot describe this bile-inducing shenanigan. Also, it makes me look really stupid. If he wants to describe it, he can start blogging again.

Saturday: A Very Jersey Christmas. I haven't been this excited about Christmas since last year. Also, did anyone else realize that the Band of Horsies' The First Song is actually a Christmas song? Woohoo!

Back to waiting. I have all of Project Runway Season 2 on my work computer to help bide the time.

I Don't Think My Co-Workers Understand Silver Party Pants

Work Holiday Luncheon today! At ZOLA! Drinking begins promptly at 1! And the food, good lord in heaven above, the food!

If This Doesn't Get Your Hackles Up, I Just Don't Know What Will

The other day, my roommate remarked to me that she has no idea why people would shed a single tear over Pinochet. I think we can find an answer to that question if we take a little moustache ride on the Robert J. Samuelson express. If you follow along with him, you too can go straight to the obliteration of human rights in the name of some specious ideal.

C'mon! Our fun and games await us!

Stop One: Where I Throw A Fucking Fitsville!
"Ever since World War II, the United States has used its military and economic superiority to promote a stable world order that has, on the whole, kept the peace and spread prosperity."

Um, Cold War much? School of the Americas? Sandanistas? Rwandan genocide? Darfur genocide? 1968? Burma? Apartheid? Taliban? Iranian Revolution? I'm sorry, did I miss something? Is there actually peace in the middle east these days? Did Art Brut finally write that song? Furthermore, even if you ignore pretty much all of the past 70 years of history, he still makes no logical argument for the U.S.'s causation of this ostensible peace and prosperity.

Stop Two: Manipulating Statistics to Make A Logically Invalid Argument- AGAIN!
"Prosperity has been unprecedented. Historian Angus Maddison tells us that from 1950 to 1998 the world economy expanded by a factor of six. Global trade increased twentyfold. These growth rates were well beyond historical experience."

If you look at the correlating population boom, the growth of the world economy is hardly a surprise; it's an inevitable result: more people, more supply and demand, more world economy. However, just because the world economy grows does not mean that individual prosperity has correspondingly grown. Maddison's statistic doesn't address the distribution of such wealth between poor and rich nations, nor the individuals within those nations. And again, there is simply no argument here that U.S. foreign policy caused this ostensible prosperity.

Stop Three: We'll Attempt Some Rudimentary Causation And Fail Miserably:
"Since the Marshall Plan, the United States has been a stabilizing influence -- albeit with lapses (the Vietnam War; the inflation of the 1970s; now Iraq)."

First of all, those are some pretty big fucking lapses- in what he accounts for, that's about thirty years of this seventy years-long "Pax Americana". But more importantly, he's discounting some very, very important world events: I would hardly call the Cold War and the era of McCarthyism a "stable world order", nor would I call the Civil Rights Era when the streets were exploding "stable". If we're really, really generous and discount military action in Yugoslavia and Kosovo (which the U.S. participated in, but did not actually lead), we still have to take into account the civil wars in Africa and the unrest in Central America and the former Soviet Union that was FUNDED BY THE U.S., and therefore partly caused by the U.S. (and a spoon that stirs up trouble is hardly a stability-inducing presence), that gives us about THREE YEARS of this magical "Pax Americana". Let's just be perfectly honest here, you could really only enjoy the benefits of "Pax Americana" if you were white and wealthy.

Is this ride nauseating you yet? Let's take the final stretch here:

Samuelson doesn't consider that this supposed "Pax Americana" actually caused the ensuing shitstorms of the twentieth century. For example, perhaps the global economy was stabilized from a purely economic standpoint, but he ignores the cultural consequences of such hegemony- 9/11, to name the pretty fucking obvious one. It's arguments like this that make us as Americans look foolish and ignorant of world events in the wake of unfathomable tragedy, scratching our collective head, wondering, "Why do they hate us?"

Which brings us full circle to Pinochet. As Samuelson would have us do, accepting the grossly oversimplified and specious macroeconomic explanation of world events allows people to ignore human rights to champion a painfully myopic view of economic success, and the next thing you know, you're crying over a dispicable mass murderer.

Will He Be Tricked Into Marriage by a Crazy Hippie, Too?

We're sending out heartfelt gooey wishes of getting well to Senator Johnson.

But to be honest, I'm a little worried about the whole situation. Yeah, there's the whole senatorial balance of power, bullshit bullshit bullshit. But what worries me a LOT more is the fact that I've spent the past six months netflixing the entire catalogue of Six Feet Under, and I've worked hard to get where I am, namely disc two of Season Five. I suffered through Season Four, and everyone has told me I will be richly rewarded for my patience. But this whole Senator Johnson thing could throw a huge wrench in my work.

See, Johnson has AVM, which, as we all know, afflicted Nate, and may have been the final catalyst in his decision to marry Stupid Lisa. Well, I know shit's going to go down pretty soon with Nate, but I don't know what, and I'm really worried that the Senator Johnson sitch will get the peoples talking about AVM, and the end of the 6FU will be revealed to me inadvertently. It'll be worse than the time Judy Sarnecki told me the end to Anna Karenina when I was halfway through it.

Cruel.

No More!

I'm on Day Four without crutches, so I think it's safe to say we're in the clear on not having to go back to them.

That said, without the crutches, I'm really no longer a cripple, which is sad. See, I work at a blood-related organization, and there are a roving gang of editors of our journal, Blood. Well, they all started calling me "Crip" and had I been on crutches much longer, we would have had to rumble.

Now the interoffice speculation is who would win in a cripple race- the exec director, who had her hip replaced in July, or me, who still has yet to make it to a full "walk" without people saying "Howdy Partner!" Next time yu're walking, try not to move one of your hips. You will suddenly be walking like a cowboy. I'm working my way up from trudging to a full-fledged amble.

So Cranky!

I am very, very grumpy today (see previous post). Also, I was at a seminar for the last two days, and thusly away from the internetly tubes for two whole days. It was awful. In any case, I would like to clear up a few things, and in return, perhaps you can clear up a few things for me.

• Daniel A. Cirucci needs some kind of prize for actually reading my mind. The only thing missing from this article is the complaint about so-called "journalists" from so-called "journalistic venues" referring to the 12 days of christmas as the 12 days BEFORE Christmas. GAAAAAAAH! (Eye furiously twitching!) Here's a little poem I wrote about Twelfth Night:

I used to think that my Father's decision
(which was met with much familial derision)
To give out presents on Epiphany
(So that Christmas stayed Jesus-y)
Was meaningful and deep.
But upon further reflection,
He may have just been cheap.

Moving on.

• If Colin Meloy wants some "fan interaction," I can definitely help out with that. But I refuse to enter this contest on the grounds that A. I don't think a Stick-Figure Caliban T-Shirt is really going to win and B. the judges include a "Decemberists Rep"????? If I'm making a t-shirt for the band, I will not settle for anything less than Jenny Conlee judging my work.
  
• Reactionary means conservative, opposed to progress, wanting to return to a previous era. So calling Neil Young a reactionary is just sheer nitwittery. ITunes staffer who wrote the review for Living with War, I am talking to you.
  

Now, can someone please help me understand the following:

• Flags at half staff? Really? I guess Reagan got the whole nine yards, too.
  If you're trying to have a
  
• Why do the boy mannequins at the Burberry store on Connecticut Ave. have shoes, but the girl mannequins have high-heel shaped feet?
  
• legitimate Holocaust deny-ers conference, shouldn't you invite Mel Gibson? I do like it that the guest list is a veritable Who's Who of Crazy Fucking Lunatics. It's like a real-life Legion of Doom!!!!
  
• I'm no fashionista, but what is so special about this necklace that warrants it costing $166 more than an almost-identical bracelet?
  

I Guess That Explains Why My Brain Is Trying To Jump Out of My Head

The first thing I did this morning was groan. The Object shushed me, as we do NOT profane the transit news by talking (by the way, ahahahahahaha). He then turned to me and said, "Hey, remember that time when you called me and told me to come over, and when I did, you were actually hanging out with a bunch of girls, and then suddenly you were more wasted than I've ever seen you be, and you were chasing your cat around your backyard and making weird voices?"

"What are you talking about? When did that happen?" I asked.

"Last night."

Oh.

Jesus Is The Reason For The Season

Yes, I know I said that all I want for Christmas is the Avenging Unicorn Playset (but only if it comes with effigies of my loved ones, co-workers, neighbors, and that asshole who kept honking at me in the crosswalk today), but I held in my heart my secret Christmas desire.

December 20th.

Decemberists.

Colbert.

Guitar-off.

Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus. And he will deliver all your pop culture desires, as long as your cable bill is paid.

Also, I'm Afraid of His Chocolate Colored Skin

So we've all seen Ed Rogers making an ass of himself, right? I think Michael Grunwald made the point the best:

This Bodes Ill for John Wayne Gacy Edwards

2008. As Hillary Rodham Clinton starts preparing to run for the Democratic presidential nomination, Republicans start pointing out that the full name of her top competitor is Barack Hussein Obama. The Zeitgeist has a feeling that even if his name were Barack Hussein Hitler Stalin Milosevic Satan Osama Obama, Republicans would still prefer to face Hillary in the general election.

Salerno Jingles: One Woman's Search For The True Christmas Cookie

Apparently, San Franciscans can't handle their cookies- the advertisting campaign that we told you about last Tuesday has been pulled. And you know it's because those homeless people kept going to City Hall, asking for cookies. Ahhhh, if only they'd made the cookies smell like Jingles.

Speaking of Jingles, sometimes¹ I check the magic Sitemeter to see who is visiting the wonderful land of Poofygoodness, and I've noticed recently a spike in the number of people who have come to the Goo in search of Jingles, a.k.a. "Santa's Favorites", according to some people from the very fine city of Madison.

For those of you who don't know, Salerno Jingles are tasty anise cookies sprinkled with red and green sugar, shaped like bells, stars, and candy canes that come in a green cardboard box. The only come at Christmastime, which, of course, makes them special in a commercial, manufactured sorta way, and therefore a staple of many a midwesterners' childhood. Since I've moved to DC, I haven't been able to find them, nor have my other flyover-country friends- they're not something you can buy on Amazon, say like, milk (read the reviews!). Googling them only leads the intrepid web searcher on a wild goose chase to forums of people asking where to find Jingles. I tried googling the parent company, Salerno, but the company is shrouded in mystery. According to BakingBusiness.com, Salerno Cookies was part of an ambiguous larger acquisition of the Mather and Archway food groups by a corporation called Parmalat in 2001. There is no Salerno website, and the Parmalat website looks more interested in looking European than being involved in any sort of cookie baking. The site refuses to disclose any information about its underling companies, insisting in a pop-up window, "Sorry, we are updating this area. " FOR THREE YEARS???

And so, Jingles have become this sort of midwestern myth to tell wide-eyed DC naifs: "Yeah, at Christmastime in Chicago, we eat these anise flavored cookies called Jingles with milk that comes from jugs that they didn't even bag at the grocery store, and this cold white stuff falls from the sky so we don't have to go to school!" They're an enigma to East Coasters, and nowhere to be found come Christmastime, thus diminishing happy childhood memories of my brothers shoving me to get to the Jingles first, then calling me fat when I finally got one of my own, at which point I would throw a screaming temper tantrum, at which point my brothers would punch me².

From the very beginning of Poofygoo, we have been at the forefront of the most pressing cookie issues. In one of the inaugural posts³ last year, we whined about how we couldn't find Jingles (much like the whining in the precedng 'graph), and therefore how Christmas was just a little less Christmassy. As a result of this post, when you google "Salerno Jingles", Poofygoo comes up as the first heading. With great google power comes great google responsibility, so I felt an obligation to the tubes of the interweb to investigate. Fortunately, we do not have to stomach another Christmas sans Jingles: dear Reader, there is hope.

Read on.

I went straight to the source: The Dominick's grocery store where my mom shopped when I was little. On the Dominick's website, they have this nifty little store locator- you know, the standard put in your ZIP and we'll tell you where to go. I just wanted to find the phone number of the Dominick's on Glenview Road, but when I enetered 60025, it returned a store address on "Patriot Drive".

WTF? I realize it's been quite a while since I've been back to the good old G-spot, but last time I was there, there was no "Patriot Drive." Streets had proper WASPy names like Elm STreet, Linden Leaf Lean, and White Flight Road- names befitting of a North Shore⁴ suburb. Patriot Drive? It just doesn't work. When I was growing up, you showed your patriotism by buying a minivan and slapping a yellow ribbon on it; street names were reserved for titles that would make the wayward wanderer ponder the idyllic charm of the village.

Oooh, wanna do something fun? go to google maps, and check out the satellite images from 60025. Does any one zip code really need that many golf courses?

Jingles hunt, right. Sorry to slow you down.

In any case, I called up this Patriotic Dominick's and spoke with Debra, a very friendly and helpful clerk. When I ask my non-flyover country friends if they know about Jingles, they look at me as though I'd just asked them if they enjoy eating tofu at Thanksgiving⁵. Debra knew immediately exactly what I was asking for, and went to search her stock. When she came back on the line, she asked, "You're the one looking for the cookies, right?"

"Yes," I replied, trying not to get my hopes up.

"The come in a green box, and they're shaped like bells, stars..."

"...AND TREES!" I finished for her.

"Yes, we have them," she replied. Reader, pay attention, for what she said next is highly important.

"They're no longer called Jingles, though, they're called Santa's Favorites."

It makes perfect sense. Of course they would change the name to Santa's Favorites, because how could they be anything but Santa's Favorite? They're everyone's favorite. Everyone just doesn't know it yet.

"Yes, yes! That's them!" I cried.

"Great, I'm glad we could accommodate you," Debra replied. "Should I set a few boxes for you when you come in next?"

My heart sank. "Well, no, I'm actually out in Washington, DC. Can you ship them to me? Please? They don't have them here, and you know how Christmas is without them."

Debra paused. "No, I don't think there's any way we can do that. Do you have any friends living nearby who could get them for you?"

"Not really," I replied. Midwesterners still living in the Midwest and not suffering from a deficit of Jingles just don't understand. I tried to plead on behalf of the larger community, "Are you sure there's nothing you can do? See, I run this blog, and people read it trying to find information on Jingles, and if you could ship them to me, it might be really good for your business." I hoped Debra would not think too hard about the the fact that the larger community would not actually benefit from my writing about eating Jingles from Debra. I also prayed she woulnd't ask how many people actually read my blog.

"No, we really don't ship things; we're just not equipped for that sort of thing."

The tears stood in my eyes⁷.

But just then, Debra came through with the sort of heartwarming act that embodies the spirit of Christmas. "I could give you the name of the company we by them from, and you can try working with them!"

In an instant, hope was rekindled.

"Here you go. It's the Archway Mothers Company⁶. You can call them at 1.800.272.2537."

In my haste, I almost forgot my manners. "Thankyouverymuchyouvebeenveryhelpfulokbye." My fingers couldn't dial the numbers fast enough. After an interminable amount of time spent holding and being shuffled through the various departments of Archway Mothers, Andrew K. came on line.

"Can you tell me where you distribute Santa's Favorite Cookies on the East Coast?" I asked.

"Thank you for calling Archway Mothers, we value your patronage and your question is important to us," responded Andrew K. and the other voices in his head that warranted referring to himself as an "us". "The Santa's Favorite cookies are one of our most popular products, and you can find them at any location that sells fine Archway products!"

"Oh," I replied, "Well, I've been living in Washington, DC for the past three years, and I've looked all over for them- no one seems to have even heard of them. Can you tell me where specifically I can find them?"

Andrew K. paused, unsure of how to tackle a question not covered in the Archway Mothers Customer Service Handbook. "Ummm, well, no, I can't actually tell you that, since we actually sell our cookies to our distributors, who then sell them to the stores. I can look up a list of the stores in your area that carry Archway Mothers products. "

"That would be perfect!" I cried, expecting a list of out-of-the-way specialty grocers that sell Jingles alongside old-fashioned milk bottles filled with a few precious ounces of milk from the
teats of three day-old goat kids from a free-range, organic farm above the Patagonian treeline.

Andrew K. paused, then came back with the magical list; the keystone to the Jingles. "Let me se here... It looks like the stores in your area that may carry Archway Mothers are Safeway, Giant, and SuperFresh."

"What?!" I said incredulously. "I've already been to those stores! They dont' have them! They don't even know what I'm talking about!"

Andrew K. was clearly ready to be done with the conversation. "I'm sorry, that's the best I can do. You can talk to the managers at those stores and ask them to buy our Santa's Favorite cookies from our Christmas line. Can I help you with anything further today?"

"No," I grumbled.

Andrew K. chirped, "Thank you for choosing Archway Mothers, and may I take this opportunity to wish you a very happy holiday season!"
**********************************************************************************

And so, dear Readers, I turn to you. As you may have heard, there is a war going on. A War Against Christmas. Let us SAVE Christmas by coming together in goodwill to ask our supermarket managers to buy Jingles. Because if there's anythign I've learned from this, buying stuff makes Christmas better. Oh, and don't forget to call them by their new codename, Santa's Favorites. I promise Baby Jesus will thank you. And if he doesn't, well, I'll buy you a spiked eggnog in hell. And that's a pretty close second.
***********************************************************************************

1.Every hour on the hour. Seriously, 36% of visitors so far today were looking for info on Jingles.

2.To be fair to my brothers, if I had had to listen to me, I would have punched me too.

3.Before we bothered to title posts and seperate them, if you really want to see the post from last year, go here and scroll down down down...

4.Despite the fact that there is no shoreline whatsoever in Glenview, save for possibly the moat around the North Shore Country Club to keep out the riffraff, the Glenview Chamber of Commerce still really likes to pretend they're as snooty as their genuine North Shore neighbors, Lake Forest and Kenilworth.

5.I know this look because I have asked that question. Yeah, that's something you only do once. People do not joke around about their turkey.

6.Archway Mothers? How was I supposed to have figured out that they're one company? Please people, I'm not Kai Ryssdal!

7.Free box of Jingles to whoever can identify who wrote that line. I'll give you a hint: it's from my favorite Christmas story.

Because This Is The Only Way We Communicate

Dear Rawk Goblin:

I hope your schnoz and gullet get better quickly so that you can sleep again without a care in the world.

By the way, have you considered that you may have fatal familial insomnia?

Love,

The Goo

Were Dogs REALLY Necessary?

Overkill much? She's barred from American Airlines? Couldn't they have given her some Beano or something? And out of curiosity, what meal did they serve on this flight?- I'll bet you anything it was the cause of her flatulence. This is American Airlines' fault; that woman was totally trying to do a service for her fellow passengers.

Small Consolation

When the ball of Sticky Goodness goes back to China, we will have something to remember him by:

Morning Geek Validation

Grinchedy

I just opened up my iTunes and noticed in the iTunes store that The Killers have made something called a "charity single". I'm doing my very, very best not to get blown all out of proportion about the semantics suggested there, but it's killing me a little bit with every breath I take, so I'll just say this: if The Killers had really wanted to do some charity work, they would have spared us all another crappity recording.

I'm So Confused

Wait- I thought we were supposed to be scared of the purple Teletubby?

Ouchy

I knew I wasn't the only one out there who still has a headache from being beaten over the head by the preachiness of the bloviating Fast Food Nation movie. The book was sooooo good, and the movie was such an incredible let down. And does anyone know why Greg Kinnear's character just sort of disappeared from the movie? Was that supposed to be some sort of statement? I haven't been this pissed off about a movie since I wasted two hours of my life watching Ben Affleck in Paycheck. At least that ticket was free.

Speaking of disappointing current events, Raoul Castro. Sigh. He's kinda like the Cuban version of Roger Clinton, isn't he? Poor Cubans.

Greetings From Nerd Israel

Oooooooooh! The most exciting interwebby event of the year for us iPodal geeks: The NPR Top Albums of the Year Countdown!

My picks thus far, which I'm having an incredibly difficult time narrowing down (feel free to comment as to what should or should not be here; but please, my list is SO much better than Pitchfork's)

Supremely Awesomest Album That Is Crazy Innovative and Fun and I Will Never Tire Of, Not EVER:
Through the Windowpane- Guillemots- Broadway-style avant garde pop, nuff said. This is the best album of the year.

Album that I Still Laugh Out Loud Every Time I Hear It:
Art Brut-Art Brut- who also gets the distinction of supremely awesomest concert this year (Wolf Parade would be the other completely rawkingest), if only because after attending the first one having had a little too much whiskey (I still have the gigantic scar on the back of my leg), they graciously came back around to promote the same album, and that show was even AWESOMER (so I'm told). Also, I like to play this album at work to weird out my non-musicky co-workers. "Why is he so excited about seeing her naked? I don't get it."

Best Album That Makes Me Cry A Bit:
The Crane Wife- The Decemberists- Yes, I know we all hated the spectre of Stupid Chris Walla and the non-talent of Laura Veirs, but I still cry when I hear The Crane Wife 2 & 3, and one night, I actually made my roommate stop writing her thesis to listen to Sons and Daughters. She wiped a tear from her eye and said it was the most hopeful she'd felt about all the shit going down in a long time. And yet it manages not to be overly kumbayah. God I love Colin Meloy, fucking genius bastard. Oh, and how much do I love it that The Decemberists signed onto a big label and then totally delivered on the goods to their fans? Oh, and they also win prettiest scenery at a concert this year. Also, I think Jenny Conlee might be one of my favorite people ever. Also, sea shanty prog rock! Must stop gushing¹.

Best Album With The Word Ziggurats and Also Has The Sweetest Cascading Piano Arrangements:
Destroyer's Rubies- Destroyer

Best Album Whose Lead Singer Endlessly Intrigues Me:
In Fields We Will Lie: Nethers- she has the most amazing voice, and at the concert, she started out very shy and unsure of herself, btu when she settled in, the performance was mesmerizing. Also, I think she's very pretty.

Best Album That I Don't Believe the Drummer Who Played The Concert Was The Same Guy Who Played On the Album, No Matter What People Tell Me:
The Loon- Tapes n' Tapes- seriously, at one point Tape 1 had to turn around and count the beats. It still completely Rawks. Also, I think the drummer looks like Mark from Step By Step, that show with Suzanne Sommers that was on Friday nights way back in my day.

Best Album It Took Me A Couple Of Trys To Get, But Now I Think It's Gee-nee-us:
>Return To Cookie Mountain: TV On the Radio- the inclusion of "cookie" in the title should have tipped me off to its sweetness.

Best Album That Sounds Just Like What's Going On Inside My Head:
Beast Moans- Swan Lake- seriously, that's what's going on up there.

Best Album That Was Completely Awesome And Brilliant And Should Be Re-Recorded with the Pared Down Instrumentation from the Tour:
Ys- Joanna Newsom- I'm reticent to include her, though, because of her encore snubbery. But she's just so damn good.

Best Album With The Song That I Would Get Arrested For:
I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass- Yo La Tengo- A while back, I read a story that I meant to include in the Goo Report about a diamond theif in India who got caught only because he went to the same famous nightclub three nights in a row and threw down enormous amounts of cash for the DJ to play the same song over and over for several hours. Somebody thought something was fishy, and called the cops. Hee! If that were me, I would totally pick Mr. Tough off this album.

Artist That I Wish I'd Known About Last Year, Because I Would Have Nominated Last Year's Album, But This Year's Release Was Littered With Way Too Much Lilith Fair Shit:
Regina Spektor- Oh, how I love Soviet Kitsch. But I'm really not so much a fan of Samson or the Boo-Boo Song from Begin to Hope. But she's just as talented onstage as she is on the record. Flawless preformance.

Best Album That I Really Liked But Am Glad I Didn't Pay For (Sorry):
Pussycats- The Walkmen- it's really as meticulously recreated as they claim. But I have the original Harry Nilsson, so it's not liek I was missing out. Still, if I were a famous musician-type (never made it past the dubious claim to fame of having been in a band that opened for the band that opened for Prince), I would amuse myslef in such a fashion.

Best Album That Sadly Does Not Make the Best Album List Due to the Inclusion of the Incredibly Insipid Songs Chips Ahoy, You Can Make Him Like You, and Chillout Tent:
Boys and Girls in America- The Hold Steady-That said, We DID have some Massive Nights, didn't we? The Hold Steady make me wish I'd lived in Minneapolis longer.

See? With so many choices, how's a goo to narrow down?

1. I have a water bottle that is decorated solely with Decemberists stickers. I could go on for a really, really long time about them.

Milk in a Nalegne Is Just Kinda Weird

Dieters? I would think this little campaign sucks a hell of a lot more for the hungry homeless dudes who sleep in those shelters.

So Much Better Than Twenty Dollars

You know how exciting it is to get out your winter coat and find twenty dollars¹ or a snickers bar in it? This morning, I found a sweater in mine! A really cute nice one! That I completely forgot I had! Woohoo!




1.Twenty dollars! Oh, but I wanted a peanut.
Twenty dollars can buy many peanuts!
Gasp! Explain!?
Money can be exchanged for goods and services...

I'd still rather have a snickers right now. Sigh.

When You Do Yoga On The Ceiling, You Don't Need A Mat

People keep telling me that the upside of being on crutches is that you're guaranteed a seat on the bus or metro (no matter what crazy old men say). What they don't realize is that being on crutches means you can't fold yourself into THE best seat on the metro.

Observe:


Soooooo jealous.

Being on crutches, now more than ever, I want WMATA to install bad bus driver buttons. This would be a simple button or rope you could pull much like the one you pull to request a stop. When you're literally being jerked around by the bus driver with the leaden brake foot, you can just push the bad bus driver button, and the driver will be ejected from his or her seat all Veruca Salt-style and replaced by Oompa Loompas (I would suggest that the bus driving duties just be taken over by Oompa Loompas, but that would never go over politically; those are DC jobs!). If passengers were found abusing the bad bus driver button, they will be locked in a room, their eyelids will be forced open, Clockwork Orange-style and forced to read DCist comments ad nauseum. Don't abuse power!

It is my dream that one day, the bad bus driver button will be so ingrained in our culture that it will be part of The Wheels on The Bus Go Round and Round.

The button on the bus ejects bad drivers,
bad drivers,
bad drivers!
The button on the bus ejects bad drivers,
so I don't sit in someone's lap!

Oops

I realized after I had posted yesterday that I was rash in telling you the only Christmas musicks you really need are Britten and John Denver and the Muppets. I forgot to include two very important albums: A Carnegie Hall Christmas with Kathleen Battle and Fredericka Von Stade and Kathleen Battle. Also, A Charlie Brown Christmas with Vince Guaraldi. There is actually probably more out there.

Sad disclosure: Sufjan's Christjan Christmas Jamboree, as 462 disc set of your kinda sucks a lot. But can you blame him? If I were famous and/or talented, I would totally make a Christmas album with Once in Royal David's City and all my other favorite kind of obscure Christmas carols.

Furthermore, I have decided, after having listened to the John Denver and the Muppets singingthe Beach Boys Little Saint Nick, that henceforth all Brian Wilson songs should be sung by muppetry.