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The following Gchat exchange contains adult language.

ME: oh and shockingly whites in the south are showing stupid low support for obama, the least support since MCGOVERN
FRIEND: lol
ME: racist christianist f—s
FRIEND: butthurt hillary-supporting racists for john mccain

Much to my pleasant surprise, Dish Network still carries channel 960: Modern Rock Alternative. I spent countless hours sitting on the floor working on craft projects with channel 960 on in the background.

Together with CMJ New Music Monthly and Q, the playlist on channel 960 dramatically opened my musical horizons just in time for the heyday of Napster, BearShare, Audiogalaxy, and KaZaA. These websites each shut down in turn, or became pay services — Napster and BearShare under their original names, Audiogalaxy now as Rhapsody.

The easy accessibility of music back then made it practically liquid to move from hearing a song to downloading the song. I never cared that I had to download on dial-up, because the whole concept of downloads was so novel and we hadn’t yet adopted the quantity expectations brought by broadband. Why does anyone need a hundred gigs of music, let alone 500? I have between 25 and 30 gigs and can barely find time to listen to most of it, especially since I tend to listen to the same 5% over and over. Whoops.

What to do when you have homegrown pears and wild raspberries, a pantry full of bizarre disparate things, and tentative plans with someone who ends up staying in?

I started with eight ounces of apple sauce, in this case four ounces of peach and four ounces of blueberry, since they were the two single-serving Motts No Sugar Added I had on hand. I threw in a scoop of vanilla protein powder*, a cup of uncooked oatmeal, and a splash of water to sate the oatmeal whilst baking. Then I threw in two eggs, about 3/4ths cup flour, a splash of extra virgin olive oil** and a cup or so of sugar. After several shakes of ground nutmeg and cinnamon I made myself stop adding things. Couldn’t taste it since it had raw eggs already in the mix, but in hindsight I’d add more sugar next time.

In the meantime, I skinned and cored two BIG d’Anjou pears, sliced them thinly, then cut the slices into roughly quarter-sized, quarter-inch-thick pieces. These went into the batter as well. I poured the batter into a Pam’d, round cake pan. (Since there’s no baking soda or powder, there’s also no rising, so I filled it up nearly to the rim.) On top, I sprinkled about another third cup of oatmeal and a few handfuls of finely-diced walnuts, then some of my raspberries mashed with sugar.

It went into the oven for an hour at 325°. I looked lovingly at it a few times and jabbed it with a fork a few more until it was done.

The result is kind of custardy, and kind of cakey, and looks like a pie. It’s, well, very healthy and surprisingly delicious, though it’d be better with some vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt, or maybe with a drizzle of honey. Or both? That might be a little much.

And the great thing about using an egg base instead of trying to wing a cake is that the ratios don’t need to be nearly as precise. There’s no worry of substituting for milk or butter. Of course, an inobtrusive, saturated-fattier oil like canola or vegetable may have worked better, but the result of my recipe here turned out very light-tasting and an ideal vehicle for this beautiful fresh fruit I was pleased to take off my coworker’s hands.

* Rationale: I didn’t have a milk analog OR any vanilla
** Rationale: Without this, the recipe had very little fat, and I figured a little more would help keep it undry

► Andrew Sullivan links to this, well, beautiful photo and attached discussion of Barack Obama’s shoes. No, really.

► Ta-Nehisi Coates contests the idea that Colin Powell is endorsing Obama because of race.

► I have recently become a vegetarian, for health and environmental reasons;

► decided to participate in NaNoWriMo;

► started applying to English literature ph.d. programs; and

► come to terms with my upcoming twenty-third birthday.

► Apparently Clint Eastwood is a vegan.

► The latest Esquire has an essay on the art of sweet talking, including the following idea, paraphrased to the best of my recollection: Sweet talking is not lying. Both of you win, one of you just wins more.

► The transhumanist movement has started its own magazine, H+. This brings up, yet again, a whole unwelcome circular set of arguments on what makes us human and what is-or-isn’t advantageous for the human species.

► Unconfirmed trivium from my coworker Andy: Both “Stayin’ Alive” and “Another One Bites the Dust” are on the correct beat to do CPR.

There won’t be any posts between now and October 19 because I’m in the final phase of preparing for the GRE subject exam in English literature.

Pity the fool, the fool being me.

Martin alerted me to the Gmail Labs’ “Mail Goggles” feature, wherein you have to answer math questions in order to confirm that you wish to send a message. Think of it as the “touch your nose” or “walk the straight line” test of drunken emailing. Of course, I like it because I like math. Big dork.

If you use Gmail though, there are myriad features in the Labs that you can use at any time. They range from aesthetics to organization, and then wholly random sanity-savers like “Take a Break,” which locks you out for 15 minutes and tells you to go take a walk or something.

Ta-Nehisi Coates over at the Atlantic makes this, um, pugilistic point:

Electoral politics are about showing and proving–no amount of Affirmative Action can get you to the presidency. You have to compete and win. If you’re the sort of voter who shows up at one of these dead-end rallies, who likely believes that Obama never deserved the hype he got, that he was only a big deal because he was the “black guy,” then, yeah, you are liable to be stunned when he Buster Douglasses that ass.

Coates evokes the great upsetter “Buster” Douglas who all kinds of kicked Mike Tyson’s ass and topped the presumed master. Of course, Tyson never fell back into ageist mudslinging, since most people in the world understand that youth, energy, enthusiasm, and creative ingenuity are good things, especially coming from a man with the varied background (and pronounced lack of McCain Silver SpoonTM) of Barack Obama.

In what universe is McCain’s oldness, not to mention his rudeness, any kind of asset? Considering McCain’s always been a hothead, going so far as to call his ice-princess robot wife a cunt in the public eye (three reporters witnessed this but the McCains now deny it), I don’t see this meanspirited, stubborn jerk as any kind of asset to anyone.

And now more than ever, the McCain campaign’s escalating smarminess and xenophobia is whipping ignorant, underinformed voters into a frenzy that might turn violent. In an earlier post, Coates gives voice to the fear plaguing many liberals AND conservatives right now: the question of Obama’s personal safety.

A handful of supporters at McCain rallies now shout violent threats and epithets, conjuring the French Revolution more than a free election in our very public democracy. Andrew Sullivan brings us this video of one extremely vocal ignoramus. Once again, the comedy and tragedy are back to back, cut from the same cloth. That cloth being, of course, white and American made.

And finally this, from Simpsons writer Daniel Chun:

If John McCain wins after what we’ve been through these last eight years, we’d be telling the entire world that we’re perfectly content with being hated and ridiculed. We’d be Pam Anderson who dumps Tommy Lee, complains about wanting to find a nice guy, and starts dating Kid Rock.

Couldn’a put it better myself. (Chun has his own Wikipedia entry.)

Partway through another round of Hangman-via-instant-messenger today at work, my colleague said, “Are you anticipating my guesses and avoiding those letters? You sly minx.”

So here are some words that pretty much stumped his shit for a good few minutes. I got generous with the hangman’s arms, legs, hands, feet, extra arms, shoes, and so on.

• poisonous
• cacophony
• anthropomorphic
• circumflex
• ampersand

Yesterday I rode the train downtown and noticed at some point that my car was dotted with U.S. Cellular ads. “We think your phone should work everywhere you are, even on the El,” the ad proclaimed. “If your phone got reception here, you could call the people who made these ads.” It listed a toll-free number.

I pulled out my U.S. Cellular phone and . . . no service.

keep looking »