There's so much to talk about today, it's been difficult to pick one topic that stands out as deserving my sole attention; for example, I could talk about how Method Man (of the Wu-Tang Clan) said recently that Britney Spears' head-shaving was a sign of the coming Apocalypse (other signs include breakdancers with backwards feet and talking toilet paper rolls). Or I could discuss which present I'm more anxiously salivating over this holiday season---a Hanukkah ham, or a $500 framed rhino turd. I suppose I could even chat about the geopolitical ramifications of actress Eva Mendes's controversial statement this week that "Boobs are good!" (For future discussion: are they?) But instead, I think I'd like to set those issues (important though they may be) aside, and take this time to share something with you, something that transcends the day-to-day inanity of the blogosphere, and speaks directly to the heart---something with a power so piercing and pure that mere words cannot hope to describe its significance. My friends, the incredible thing I'm speaking of is this picture of Ray Liotta:
... you just think about that.
The main benefit of watching TV is seeing the plight of sad bastards who aren't you.
The 'wellness' market is thriving right now.
Most people have a pretty basic idea of what it's like to be a parent.
There's no shortage of downright absurd conspiracy theories out there.
Instead of rebooting and recasting, we have a chance for something new.