The first rule of Fight Club is there is no Fight Club...

I haven't posted in quite a while, but if you frequent this little corner of the internet, you already knew that. The reason is that the only things I've really had to talk about relate to work. And, to paraphrase Tyler Durden, "The first rule of blogging is there is no blogging about work."

So, I haven't written anything because, other than my self-censored subject, lately I haven't had anything to say.

Apparently, I'm not alone.

Some of you may have noticed a change to the list of links on the left there. One of the reasons for the change has been that Alecia, one of my blogger friends, decided to retire her "Alecia with and e" blog in favor of something a bit more thematic, E-letters.

Apparently, someone with the name "Saber" thought quite a bit about Alecia's old blog. So much so that when she moved to her new address, s/he decided it would be fun to not only take over her old site, but also to take her intellectual property, namely her old original posts (presumably from a prior cached version of her site), and begin posting them back on the then-retired site.

Yes, apparently Saber doesn't have anything to say either.

The difference is when I don't have anything to say, I don't steal the words of someone who does.

So Saber, if you're reading this, take a look Section 1301 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. What you've done is not only immoral, it's illegal.

And here's a little free advice: Remove the posts labeled Student Orientation, Quote of the Day-Blake, Barnes and Noble . . . and Love, and Quote of the Day . . .

Immediately.

You didn't write them, you haven't credited the author, and you don't have the author's permission to print them.

At the risk of tampering with greatness, I rephrase the words of legendary Tequila Mockingbird.

Cease. Desist. Now. Motherfucker.

V is for Va-va-va-voom

You may remember I have a thing for Natalie Portman.

After seeing this on Saturday Night Live, I strangely find her even more attractive.

Don't ask me why because, honestly, I can't explain it. Gangster rap has never done anything for me before.

Some visitors on the seventh day...

Every so often I go to a local Shabbat (Jewish Sabbath) dinner. This week, there was a middle-aged Orthodox couple I had never seen before who brought luggage with them.

In an attempt to break the ice, I asked them where they were from.

"Toronto," the woman replied.

Thinking of my friend, Sass, and my recent acquaintance, Maria, I said to them, "Oh really? I know a few people in Toronto!"

Naturally, the woman asked, "Oh really? Who?"

This was the point I realized I had just started a conversation that was going to end awkwardly. Somewhat embarassed, I replied, "Well, I've only gotten to know them online, so I don't really know last names." Or, in Sass's case, first name. But I thought I'd let that slide.

The woman smiled, in what I can only guess was an attempt to make me avoid feeling like a complete moron.

In a half-hearted effort to save myself, I blurted out, "Have you ever been to the Banknote?"

That ended the conversation.

Let me make sure I understand this one...

One of the blogs I read included this article today:

You can read the article here in its entirety.

But I'll save you the time by summarizing the key points.

Jerry Falwell likes me. But he still thinks I'm destined for eternal damnation.

Thanks Jerry. You're tops in my book too.