Cancel the Super Bowl halftime show, take off the sequin glove; Prevent the weird little monkey from bubbling out his love Silence the discos and with muted MTV Bring on the Dateline Tributes and bloviating MSNBC.
Millennium generation, the last vestiges of our youth officially died today. In memoriam, let Filipino prisoners express the words that fail us.
You know it's where Jacko would have wanted to go to jail.
I spent two weeks in Berlin recently, a town known for being full of coke-addled artists. I'd read that the cocaine was so prevalent, it's even in their Red Bull, which seems redundant. But in speaking to Berliners, the lack of cocaine was one of the first things they'd mention about their city. "Here in Berlin, we like to make the party all night," one man told me, adding almost wistfully, "Americans think it is the cocaine that makes us do this, but I have never seen it just out at a club." He paused to take a bite of his falafel, washed down with Red Bull, then asked,"You like to dance?"
Happily, BBC has turned up the source of the cocaine:
I missed you all, too. In the last few months, I got into grad school, narrowly avoided becoming a swine flu vector, gave birth to a metaphoric career baby, and divided my time between three different hemispheres. Traveling so much makes me appreciate home that much more when I get back; I get a little teary (or possibly just blearly, after 9-12 hours on a plane, it's impossible to tell the difference) when the customs people say (and they always do), "Welcome back home to the USA!"