Making Me Work for the Weekend
This is being One of Those Days. One person in my department called in sick. Another left at ten for a doctor's appointment and probably won't be back. I firmly believe that if these people had taken better care of themselves when they were younger they wouldn't be having these problems now.
In times like these I just try to tell myself what the Doctor on "Voyager" told Seven-of-Nine. "Seven, I know you get frustrated with your fellow crewmen. But just remember, they can't help being what they are."

Election Day
"Welcome to the Fifth Circle of Hell. I'm your host, Lucretia Borga. You know, before I broke into big-time politics, I went by another name . . . but that was a long time ago. Don't you think Lucretia sounds more authoritarian? Moah-ah-ah.
"What? Oh no, you simply MUST stay for dinner. We're having Pope Pius! Don't you think rosemary the appropriate seasoning for ecumenicals? Moah-ah-ah. Moah-ah-ah."

The "Irish" Pub
How did the Irish pub become a popular theme for bars in these United States? I can only think of one demographic group which it seems would be sympatico with the Irish, and they aren't, because the Irish are white.
On weekend nights when I have nothing planned I usually pop out for a couple drinks after dinner. I usually go to a college bar. You know, the kind of place with the front end of a Volkswagen beetle from before the 1967 model year sticking out of the wall above the bar (I can't date it more specifically without seeing the rest of the car). This place also has a bartender who is a dead ringer for Randy Quiad. Randy makes a lousy martini, but a great Manhattan.
But I had been there Friday night, so last light I went to an "Irish" pub. You kow, the kind of place with paneling, and designs from the Book of Kells on the wall, and dim lighting, and a bartender with an incomprehensible accent, and depressing music. Oh, and let's not forget: Over-priced drinks.
And to attest to the authenticity of the decor of this particular "Irish" pub, there were a set of bag pipes trapped against the wall by a small, empty cigar case. I guess the cigar bar fad went the way of the value of technical stocks.