Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<





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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?


"50 First Dates"






Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.

Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Find Federal Officials
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Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)

Quasar
Hyperbole
Amenable
Taciturn
Ennui
Prophetic
Tawdry
Hubris
Ethereal
Syzygy
Umbrageous
Twerp
Sluice
Omnipotent
Sanctuary
Malevolent
Maelstrom
Luddite
Subterfuge
Akimbo
Hoosegow
Dodecahedron
Visceral
Soupçon
Truculent
Vitriol
Mercurial
Kerfuffle
Sangfroid




























 







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Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue

Slanglish

It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations


Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"


















 
Mail Trillian here





Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)

CellStories

Alliance for the Great Lakes


Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras


The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.



Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.

Shag

Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto

Jotto




Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.





Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"







Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


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Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains





























Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero

 
Tuesday, December 02, 2008  
You know I love A Christmas Carol. And, surprising as it may seem, hypocritical as it is, I enjoy the occasional actual Christmas carol. I know, I know. Maybe I am getting soft in my old age. Nah. I’ve always had a soft spot for holiday songs. Even the glory on high all ye faithful holiday songs. And yes, yes, I know that’s hypocritical.

Kind of…

I don’t hate Jesus. In fact I love the idea of Jesus. Well. Actually, I have some issues with the virgin birth aspect, the feminist in me takes issue with God going around impregnating innocent young girls. No one asked Mary if she wanted a baby, or the burden of raising His child. It was forced on her. Messiah schmiah, it’s chauvinistic and manipulative and it bugs me. But other than that, I would be super happy to find out Jesus is more than a centuries old fable. Jesus, the forgiving, patient, tolerant, wise, compassionate, loving guy? Heck yeah, real or not, believers or not, we can all learn a lot from Jesus. And if the Jesus thing were substantiated I’m sure I would be the most obnoxious type of born again – I’d be out there with Prince knocking on doors and exalting the glory and warning people to repent. Fortunately for all of us that substantiation is not eminent. But the concepts Jesus represents are cool. I’m totally down with the concepts and lessons of Jesus. And the Christmas songs exalting him are mostly themed around the benevolent concepts of Jesus. Well, for the most part. The Wassail Song, a merry tune about begging, has always confused me and leaves me feeling uncomfortable. Kind of dirty and not in a good way. I always want to follow The Wassail Song song with Good King Wenceslas to redeem my conscience and put things right with musical karma. The Wassail Song and Good King Wenceslas are the yin and yang of Christmas carols.

O Little Town of Bethlehem is one of my new favorites. My dad used to sing it on the way home from the midnight Christmas Eve church service. I’d be tucked in the back seat, drowsy and exhausted from the day of anticipation (and sugar), we’d drive through our little town, dark streets illuminated with holiday lights, usually under a blanket of snow. Through the peep hole my dad scraped in the ice on the car window for me I’d look up at the night sky trying to find the Christmas Star, my dad’s baritone proclaiming Yet in thy dark street shineth the everlasting love. That’s one of the memories I cling to now that my dad’s gone and that carol, not particularly a favorite in the past, now means more to me than the others. Maybe not for the right reasons, not the intended message reasons, but for me, my personal reasons that one’s significant.

I have warm fuzzy feelings for Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. And for all the wrong reasons. It’s the traditional recessional hymn on Christmas Eve in my parents’ church. When I was a kid sitting through what seemed like a days long service, the organ booming the lively opening refrain of Hark!... meant finally, finally we were going home, putting out the cookies for Santa, carrots for the reindeer, porridge for the Nisse and going to bed. The sooner we got out of there, the sooner we’d be in bed, the sooner the toys would arrive. Hark!... signaled the end of church and the beginning of toys. And. Another bad reason I like Hark! The Herald Angels Sing… My mother has a cousin named Harold. Good natured guy, fun, but a bit odd and someone you want to keep an eye on when he’s around the kids. No, he’s not a perv. He’s a pyro. Harold could always be counted on for innovative pyrotechnics. He could use an aerosol can as a flame thrower like nobody’s business. My brother and one of our cousins made up a new version of Hark!... about cousin Harold. Spark! Old Harold’s Lighter Stings.

And then there are all the other holiday songs. I’m a big fan of The Grinch. Dr. Seuss. Chuck Jones. Boris Karloff. What’s not to love? Three undisputed masters of their craft, geniuses, of the 20th century combine for a delightfully wicked yet endearing, sweet but not sappy, moral but not preachy tale told with such finesse and humor that few among us can resist its siren call. You’re a Mean One is, consequently, one of my favorite holiday songs. My dad used to sing that, too. He could hit those low notes perfectly. When I was a bit overstimulated with holiday cheer and behaving badly he would sing, “You’re a mean one, little girl” and would send me squealing around the house as he chased me. He always caught me and my punishment was a hug, a kiss and a time out reading a Christmas book, one with a moral and the “true” meaning of Christmas to tame my childhood fits of overstimulated orneryness.

The Drifters version of White Christmas is my favorite. Clyde McPhatter’s spin wakes up Bing’s tired classic in ways that define the difference between old school crooning and rock and roll baby, rock…and…roll. I was lucky. I grew up in a house where The Drifters’ version was the accepted and played version of the song. (My parents were fans of The Drifters, especially Clyde McPhatter) Whenever I’d hear the Bing version it sounded wrong to me. Slow, weird and wrong. Even though I was always embarrassed about my parents’ music collection when I was a kid (it wasn’t cool, it was old and very not cool) I was grateful for some of the different songs heard in our house. The reality is that I grew up listening to some truly amazing music and formed an understanding and appreciation for the real thing. They did me a huge favor and for that alone I owe them a lifetime debt of gratitude. But at the time I didn’t see it that way. Our White Christmas exemplifies how looking at, or in this case listening to, something in a different way, from a different perspective, can open a whole new world of experiences and pleasure. Sure, Bing’s classic is good. No doubt about it. Not to dis Bing. But. The Drifters’ version has soul, joy, longing, even if you hate snow and cold weather by the end of it you, too, are so swept up in Clyde’s emoting that you, too, want a white Christmas. There’s a lilting jive and joy that captures the feeling of a great snow fall. Where Bing is nostalgically charming, Clyde is soulfully emotive of the mood of a fresh snowfall.

I inherited a bunch of albums from my older siblings, who inherited them from older cousins. Some of them were weird. Some of them were bad. Some of them were really good. All of them were warped and scratched. In that heap of records were some Gene Autry cowboy classics. I bet you’re thinking, “Rudolph!!!” Sure, yeah, Rudolph’s good. But…Thirty-two Feet and Eight Little Tails is better. Look it up. I promise it’ll dash away into your heart but be warned: It’s a serious ear worm song. One listen and it will stick with you for weeks.

The ‘60s gave us some great bands and some great music. So it stands to reason during that decade there’d be some good holiday tunes. The Beach Boys gave us holiday songs which are great. Classics. Straight out of the Pet Sounds genius we got Little St. Nick and Frosty. Though, ironically, I prefer Bing’s Melekalikimaka over The Beach Boys’. The Ventures put their guitar spin on a few holiday classics breathing new life into old songs. Familiar but with a twist, different but not weirdly bad.

I’m not fond of the song Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town. Dunno. Just not one of my favorites. However. I will say that if, if I have to hear it, I choose Michael Jackson’s, I mean the Jackson 5’s version.

We know I love most things Chrissie Hynde and all things Waitresses. So it’s no surprise to anyone that 2,000 Miles and Christmas Wrapping are favorites. But. Remember Wall of VooDoo (Mexican Radio?) They’ve got a Christmas tune so packed with anti-glee even the most holiday jaded will feel merry in comparison to the somber sentiment of Shouldn’t Have Given Him a Gun for Christmas. I know it sounds sick and wrong, and it is. But. Um. I like it. Fishbone’s It’s a Wonderful Life (Gonna Have a Good Time) is a solid holiday tune. Considering Fishbone isn’t a band that would make me think, “They should do a holiday song!” it’s worth a spot in the holiday line-up. Add Material Issue’s Merry Christmas Will Do to the list of bright stars in dark ‘80s skies. (Yes, yes, I know, Material Issue is more of a ‘90s band but they always seem ‘80s to me.) Another “always seems ‘80s to me” band, The Smithereens, has an entire cd of holiday tunes, and, well, they’re good.

So, you know, this should all bode well for rock and rollers doing holiday songs, right?

Wrong.

Oh, where to begin with the holiday horrors presented by the rock and pop music industry?

Maybe it's me. I'm a bit sensitive this year. Songs that got on my nerves in the past are really annoying to me this year. Then again, I'm guessing when you read through my annoying songs you'll agree: The holidays are no excuse for bad music.

A lot of people of a certain age, a certain generation, hold up Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s, or Greg Lake's, whichever, Father Christmas as a great classic, a terrific holiday song, a new classic for a new generation. Those of us a few generations behind that generation disagree. Or, well, at least I disagree. It’s self indulgent, overproduced, smarmily sweet drivel. Maybe I’m just too young to understand. But. Isn’t that the point of a “classic?” It speaks to many generations? I think that certain generation clings so dearly to Father Christmas because it harkens back to days of yore. The days when FM meant something. FM radio was a “movement.” It was “out there.” Emerson, Lake and Palmer were a penultimate FM band. Album oriented rock. No static at all. FM. Holiday music was not cool. But. For all the album oriented late night FM radio listeners, Father Christmas was the singular exception. It was an acceptable holiday song because it was FM album oriented rock.

Lennon’s Happy Christmas(War is Over). I dunno. I think I’m too young to “get it.” I actually like the opening, “And so this is Christmas, and what have you done, another year over, a new one just begun.” I actually like Lennon’s voice and phraseology. I know. I know. Coming from me that’s huge. But. Like Imagine it’s become a bigger than life cultish mantra that diminishes it’s impact. It’s become trite. Typical. Trite and typical are okay for songs about frosty snowmen and jolly old men in red suits. But trite and typical are not okay for songs about war and uncertainty. I was stuck waiting for a prescription in Walgreen’s and was forced to listen Happy Christmas(War is Over) through a speaker in a holiday decoration. A group of plastic snowmen and elves festooned on a plastic battery powered speaker. I think you can imagine the sound quality of such an item. Bad. Really bad. Loud and bad. And there was Happy Christmas(War is Over) blaring through this really awful plastic battery powered speaker festooned with cheap looking plastic snowmen and elves. Making the whole mockery even more insulting was that Yoko’s screeching falsetto is exactly the right pitch and key for the crappy speaker, so Lennon’s voice was completely lost in the lack of acoustic depth and Yoko was warbling away though this crappy speaker. It was awful. Really. Truly. Awful. Send one of those holiday decorations to the entry to Osama’s cave, turn it on, and I promise halfway through Yoko’s warbling we’ll have Osama and his gang surrendering. “Make it stop, just make it stop! I’m sorry for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused, I’ll do anything you want, you’re infidels but you clearly have superior intelligence, the Yoko WMD is genius in its simplicity, make it stop, just make it stop!”

I like David Bowie. A lot. But. Some of his songs suck. The Peace on Earth/The Little Drummer Boy duet with Bing is one such song. Putting aside the “so weird it’s worth it” factor of David Bowie and Bing Crosby singing together, Bowie’s unique vocal style is perfectly suited for songs about spiders from Mars but not so much for gentle holiday songs. It just doesn’t work.

Ditto Smashing Pumpkins’ Christmastime. I dunno. It’s just weird and not in a good way. I think this was recorded during The Drug Years and somehow heroin and Christmas is too much for me. (I know. I know. I like Shouldn’t Have Given Him a Gun for Christmas but a band on heroin recording a Christmas song bugs me. I never said I’m logical.) I’ve listened to this a bunch of times and I just won’t grab me. I’m not saying Billy isn’t capable of sentimentality or holiday inspiration, but Christmastime just isn’t it.

Speaking of smarm, Wham!’s Last Christmas? Yeah. Um. Anyone care to join me in a couple packs of Sour Patch Kids candy to try to deflect the saccerine overdose of this synth pop crime against humanity? Now that I think about it, that might be a George Michael solo project. If so, that other guy from Wham! can be absolved. If we can’t lock Michael away for indecent behavior in a public toilet, can’t we at least lock him away for that ridiculously sweet and chirpy song? I ask you, the jury, which crime has a greater negative impact on society? Last Christmas will be torturing people long after anyone remembers that George Michael was once arrested for something other than drug possession. (Anyone wanna bet on when he'll be on Celebrity Rehab?)

I’m going to get hate mail for this, but I’ll say what millions of people think while silently suffering every year. Do They Know It’s Christmas. Ugh. Ya know, rock on, ‘80s pop musicians. Raising money for starving people is cool. Let me be clear on that point. And I know the song was written to intentionally pull on our heartstrings and pull out our wallets to pony up money. I believe the mentality was, “Sure, this song sucks, and most of you would normally never excuse this sort of crap from some of us credible musicians involved with this, but it’s for charity so be a good sport, plunk down the money and we’ll go away and leave you alone.” From a marketing perspective it’s genius. People did plunk down money and apparently some food went to Africa. Cool. That’s cool. But for the love of Christmas please, please, stop playing that horrible song. Do they know it’s Christmas? Probably. Does Christmas mean the same thing to Ethiopians as it does to ‘80s English musicians? No. (Hey, wasn't Wham! in Band-Aid? Wow. George Michael appears in two of my most hated holiday songs. The '80s are very good for my venomous spew.)

I’m not mocking Ethiopia or the horrible famine. But every year I dread the coming weeks of hearing Bono screech out a very unseasonal sarcastic dare, “Tonight thank God it’s them instead of you.” I mean, what the…??? This is a holiday song trying to raise money and what do they do? Offend the entire listening population by throwing an accusatory sarcastic taunt at us intended to make us feel guilty for not being a starving Ethiopian, or accusing us of not recognizing how good we have it here in the First World. You know what, Bono? It goes without saying that those of us not starving in the Third World are pretty darned grateful for that stroke of luck. But because I’m a decent human being just about every day I send gratitude out to the Universe that I wasn’t born in the Third World. Okay? I give to charities and do what I can to give hope for a better future for those less fortunate. Most people I know do the same thing. Many of us are capable of compassion and charity without going around preaching and bragging about it. So. Stop yelling at us to thank God it’s them and not us. Shut. The. Swut. Up. Self righteous wanker. (Somewhere in the past few years I've taken a serious dislike to Bono. In case you hadn't noticed.)

Anything, absolutely anything, by Manheim Steamroller. Nope. Uh-uh. If I have to explain you’re on the wrong blog.

I had an epiphany last week. Well. An epiphanette. You know how I hate The Beatles? It’s possible I’ve unfairly judged three innocent victims. It’s possible that it’s actually just Paul McCartney I hate. There’s a growing body of evidence leading to this hypothesis. I hate The Beatles so much that I don’t care who wrote which song, so I’ve never deconstructed the songs to get to the bottom of who is responsible for each song. And I’m not going to start now. But. Based on solo efforts, McCartney’s work irritates the crap out of me, ergo, one could soundly theorize McCartney’s contributions to The Beatles are why I hate The Beatles. I could list loads of McCartney solo songs which back my theory, but I’ll let the jury judge with one singularly horrifically awful song: “Wonderful Christmastime.” The title alone is obnoxious. The children’s choir singing “ding dong ding dong ding dong” is apparently supposed to be cute and festive. It’s not. It’s annoying and grating and invokes very unfestive thoughts. Again, the synth noise is overdone and irritating, even for the ‘80s or ‘70s or whenever it was recorded. Sounds like early ‘80s to my ear. But that’s still no excuse. I suspect McCartney was a tad jealous of the runaway success of Happy Christmas(War is Over) and, not wanting to sound like a lame copycat, he took a different route on his holiday song. He took the merry, merry, happy happy joy joy route. No reflecting on the year, no mention of fear, just simply having a wonderful Christmastime. A lot of artists and musicians who smoke pot say they do it because it unleashes their creativity. McCartney makes a strong argument for just saying no. What smoking pot does is alter the smoker’s perspective on creativity. Everything seems wildly creative and genius when you’re stoned. Wonderful Christmastime is the result of pot induced “creativity.” Like something you’d listen to while stuffing down brownies, Dorritos, the entire Taco Bell menu and Mountain Dew in a frenzied munchy passion. Yes. I know. Somewhere Nancy Reagan is beaming proudly at me and yes that bugs me. But. Then again. If smoking pot is to blame for Wonderful Christmastime This is one case where Nancy has every right to feel smugly superior.

(Most of those holiday hits (and more!) can be found in 4shared.)

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