A cursory inspection of my visitors over this past week provided a few intriguingly exotic origins. London, Sydney, Magdeburg, Naples; every one of them at least a few page requests. Someone from Middlebury College in Vermont is a regular reader. Several perusals from Washington, D.C. and the Beltway locale. And, of course, Pennsauken, New Jersey.

Ah ha! I see you! But make no mistake: thank you! I'll do my best to maintain my worth to your high-value net-skirting.

SARS: SARS Acronym Redefinition Saturation.

(Don't believe me? Pick up a newspaper or magazine!)

Busy day today - I'm currently under the gun with some graphic and layout work for a report that was thrown on my desk yesterday at three in the afternoon.

"Make this pretty," they said.

"When do you want it by?" I wondered, frowning.

"Yesterday."

But, ah, me, I prefer working under pressure. In that light, not one of you should complain - as I did well to provide you all with a substantially thought-provoking entry this morning. Go read about Thomas Nast. If you have made the acquaintance of Mr. Sunshine today, enjoy it.

For those of you to whom I gave first drafts: I spent a good deal of yesterday afternoon editing. In the week or two since my last writing session, perspective has returned and I'm again able to effectively judge what is redundant or obscure. Chances are, any mechanical awkwardness you saw I've probably seen, and have since improved.

From Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, this past March 22nd:

We've always just tried to -and this is not, like, pussying out or not taking a stand. I've just always had this weird thing about, like…… Just because you are a musician, and just because people listen to what you are saying, that doesn't mean that you should mouth off on every single subject that anybody asks you. That's not to take the easy way out, middle stand. But I've got a lot of respect for people like [Audioslave guitarist] Tom Morello and [System Of A Down frontman] Serj [Tankian] and all these guys that stand up and really speak passionately. I guess I have trouble with myself using Metallica as some kind of soapbox to stand up and talk about what I feel – it's always been awkward for me, so I'd rather not go there. Read the papers, go on the internet, do what you've gotta do, formulate your own opinions, don't listen to some f*ckin' drummer in a rock band about what to think about the war, you know what I mean?!"

As the source site said, "I know what you mean." (Cue air-Lars-singing-and-grimacing-musically-while-drumming.)

Anti-liberation reporter from the New York Times, Chris Hedges, didn't exactly find an audience awaiting each America-bashing sentence of his commencement address with baited breath:

Hedges began his abbreviated 18-minute speech comparing United States’ policy in Iraq to piranhas and a tyranny over the weak. His microphone was unplugged within three minutes.

Voices of protest and the sound of foghorns grew.

Some graduates and audience members turned their backs to the speaker in silent protest. Others rushed up the aisle to vocally protest the remarks, and one student tossed his cap and gown to the stage before leaving.

The college president's defense for such politicized tripe to be billed for an event was "the freedom of speech." It's no surprise that a liberal wouldn't be the least familiar with what the Constitution actually says - but for the rest of us out there, the First Amendment bars Congress from abridging expression, and not the citizenry.

Earlier in the work day, I was playing the Cleveland-weather apologist by explaining to coworkers the benefit of four seasons here as opposed to, say, Phoenix, where the sun shines irrepressively.

"Blue skies every day would get old quick," I said.

Until about a week from Wednesday, we're expected to receive as much sunlight as Lamprechtsofen.

I take it back.

Glam rock's not my thing, and I'm unsure of the moral advisability of endorsing automatons breaching time-travel paradox but Gabe (center, resplendent in sequins) is father of some of the most interesting projects I've been lucky to have attempted to understand in my overly serious austerity. And, as you can visually infer, he puts on a damned fine show.

If you're in Chicago on Saturday and looking to be humming hours after the entertainent has come to a close, strap on a perm-wig, some panty hose and clip-on a cross earring in one ear; and treat yourself to a rock-opera extravaganza. This is the real deal. The drummer's name is Slugger Metropolis, for crying out loud. Enjoy (and break a leg, kids!).

UPDATE: You can switch paths all you like - I'll just relink. You seek my destruction deep down, don't you?

Because of this, repeat after me:

I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture. I love and respect Japanese culture.

Hat tip to none other than Asparagirl.

James Lileks is too talented and pithily cogent for a slight breach of etiquette to deny his work endorsement from my humble weblog.

(But he should try re-examining the Rush dig. The Maha deserves better.)