Memories

First things first: Holly Go-Heavily is a security risk, apparently. My association with Henry Rollins has made me a wanted woman. He has sent me messages.

In other news, this week marks the one year anniversary of Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves. Over the next seven months, the Cat and I will reminisce over some of our fondest entries together.

Right now, only two memories from the past year immediately come to mind: watching Cliff Huxtable give birth to a hoagie in an episode of The Cosby Show on Nick at Nite, and remembering that one week where the guy formerly of the Libertines was NOT arrested for heroin possession.

Turtledaub chimed in, and said this was the best pictorial we posted since last February.

Index of blogging freedom

Some loyal readers may have heard of the global outrage regarding Muhammad cartoons originally published in Denmark. PEHOCAC has not been immune from its share of controversy. Why, it was no more than a few months ago that a public uproar emerged over the now-enfamous "Billy, Don't Be a Hero" post, where Holly claimed to look like the prophet. There were--understandably--calls for Holly to be forcibly restrained and subjected to an entire Celine Dion concert so that Holly might better understand the prophet's lyrics and vocal phrasings.

I think you'll agree that this is a national security issue of the highest order. I mean, while we're on the topic, Morrissey is clearly not a terrorist. What are a bunch of mopey kids listening to "How Soon Is Now?" on their Walkmans going to do about anything? But I for one am glad that the Australians finally got their hands on a real terrorist: Henry Rollins.

Panic on the Streets of London

All because of this guy.

How dumb does the US (and British) government have to be? Your Holly here is no butchie thang, but Morrissey--Mr. ummm Death of a Disco Dancer himself--is about as threatening as pumpernickel bread. I mean, check out the lyrics of "Sweet and Tender Hooligan":

He was a sweet and tender hooligan
I, Morrissey, told him to join Al-Qaeda again
And of course he will
because I threatened to suicide bomb his ass if he didn't

Poor old man
He had an accident with a vial of anthrax
But that's OK
He wasn't happy with those infidels anyway
Poor woman
Strangled by me, Morrissey, as she read
Follow me now Morrissey fans, it's OK
Because even if I don't kill 'em,
they're gonna die anyway on the next 9/11, planned by me

See what I mean, folks. There's nothing in the lyrics of that song, or any other Smiths/Morrissey tune, that could possibly lead any government official to the conclusion that Morrissey is the next Muqtada as-Sadr. Their probably harrassing him because they don't like the direction his solo career has taken. [It was reported elsewhere that one of the "quiz" questions asked by the FBI was: "Why does your music suck so bad since you left the Smiths?"]

McJob

Holly might be in the wrong profession. Getting $$ to bitch on a blog is one thing. Predicting at least one of the correct Super Bowl scores (Seattle's 10 points) and the winner (Pittsburgh -- and yeah, I know, I had Seattle beating the four point spread), I have also been on record predicting that Crash (2004) would win the Oscar for best film, not Brokeback Mountain. I've never even seen Crash (nor am I compelled to), but it's got that kinda hype. Maybe I should be a gambler? On second thought, that's probably not a good idea. I'm a pessimist.

You Can Tell By the Way She Smiles

The Potato Pistols are a go! quickly working on our first single "E.M.Idaho" and "Spud-Mission." Things got off to a slow start because somebody (Paper Cat, ahem) didn't tape the kitty-cat halftime show during Puppy Bowl II, and our drummer, Paul Cook-me-some-Potatoes, showed up to the session high on powdered mash.

Now, allow me to wax paranoid.

This summer, non-paranoid conspiracy theorists and gullible folks who think Dan Brown novels are factual will await the release of Opie's surefire blockbuster The Da Vinci Code (2006).

For the record, Holly Go-Heavily has not read the book and has no interest in reading it. If I want to read books about worldwide conspiracies, I'll stick to the classics: Ishmael Reed's Mumbo Jumbo (1972), Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49 (1966) and Gravity's Rainbow (1974), Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum (1989), Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson's The Illuminatus! Trilogy (1984) or even Candace Bushnell's Sex and the City (1997).

But Holly does find it funny that Brown's book has created a firestorm of controversy, with a spate of books trying to "debunk" it. Brown (conspiracy theory time) must be in collusion with these writers who feel that the book is blasphemous because of its disclaimer on the first page claiming that everything in the book is based on fact. Before the words appear, there is a keyword that debunks the whole thing. That word: NOVEL. The cover of the book reads: THE DA VINCI CODE: A NOVEL. Those words are on the cover, people. According to dictionary.com, a novel is "a fictional prose narrative of considerable length, typically having a plot that is unfolded by the actions, speech, and thoughts of the characters." If you need more help with that word, FICTION is "an imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented." When Dan Brown tells his readers that the events in the NOVEL are based on fact, THAT IS FICTION. Holly doesn't usually like to berate her potential readers, but how stupid do you have to be to believe that The Da Vinci Code is real? Pardon my rudeness, people, but come on.

As the ultra-hip Turtledaub refreshingly told me, "The Da Vinci Code ... what's that? I don't own a television."

I'm in.

I can be Sid. I'll wear a raw potato around my neck.

I'm really stoked these days. It's not because the Steelers won the superbowl. No, it's because I got to watch Puppy Bowl II instead. But I'm a little concerned that Danny is leading the polls for most valuable puppy. I'm thinking the polls might have been rigged.

Mashed Potato Time

Things between us here at Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves have been a little tense lately. Also, the Pipe Bomb Cigarettes are on hiatus. After recording a twelfth take of the 19-minute supertrack "How Do You Congratulate Robots for Performing Shockingly Mundane Tasks?" failed to live up to my expectations, I had a bit of a breakdown. So, to get things back on the right track, I have the following proposition for the Cat: We should form a duo called the Potato Pistols. You can be Sid Vichyssoise and I'll be Johnny Au Gratin. What do you say?