Ah, Crap! (Or, It's Driving Me Nuts!)

I fall in love, with this song, and I try several times to upload it here so you can all see and hear the magnitude of its beauty, and it's not even opera, and it just isn't working. Something isn't going right between Blogspot and YouTube. Watch me get up tomorrow morning to find the video plastered on this site something like sixteen times...

And in the meantime, I sign on and go to the Dashboard, and there are baby pictures everywhere. Apparently babies are the latest thrill in the world of blogging. People, babies exist. Babies aren't going away. We all were babies once. Some of us were cute; some of us were ugly as sin. This has not changed. I was just reporting to several friends the other day that I check the rolling list of blogs provided here every once in a while and that for the most part they are crap. The family photo album is for baby pictures. Or is it too late for that? Do those no longer exist? Is your kid really so much more important than the kid down the road that he or she should have a special little blog before he or she can speak, let alone use a keyboard to look himself or herself up in cyberspace? And if so, then why do the rest of us have to look?

The Gerber Baby is special. My ex-husband's prep school friend Sam... I met him at a wedding once, maybe his own wedding... His grandfather was the Gerber Baby. Now that is special. If I am wrong, I retract whatever inaccuracy I have spoken here, willingly. I think my memory actually serves in this instance. Someone... Dave...? Tell me if I'm wrong about the facts. About the point, certainly not. If everyone goes around showing their kids' pictures all over the internet, then what is so special anymore about the Gerber Baby, or about movie stars, for that matter? Everyone's a movie star before being able to say "movie star," say nothing about being able to stay awake all the way through Bambi.

If I wake up tomorrow morning and sign on to find a slew of video uploads of Passenger's "Wicked Man's Rest," I will be far happier than I was signing on tonight to a bunch of pasty faced fake bunnies in fuzzy sleeper sets. I'll be happy anyway; I have a fridge again and can eat Cinnamon Crunch with chilly milk.

How about that Montauk Monster? (I figure that's got to be good for some points. Even better: Do you suppose the MONTAUK MONSTER had any BABIES?)