I am not Irish and thus, this St. Patrick's Day, seemingly am not lucky.
Returning to my office from a court appearance this morning, I was waylaid for several hours when my left rear tire decided to tear itself to ribbons on the freeway. By the time I was able to pull to the side, the tread had separated completely from the rest of the tire along both sidewalls, and was happily spinning round independent of the wheel to which it had once been attached. At least it didn't fly off and strike some bystander. In any case: A jack, some grumbling, a trip to the nearest Toyota dealer on the itty-bitty spare, a near two-hour wait, and here we are back in our places with bright shining faces.
In other news: I had mentioned that last weekend would bring a visit from my longtime friend and collaborator, Rick Coencas of the Futurballa weblog. Among our projects was a trip into the surprisingly green fastnesses of the Antelope Valley to visit the California Poppy Reserve. Rick has posted the first in what should be a series of photos from that jaunt, this one being a case of art imitating an artist in the act of imitating life.
Annals of Spam: A curious new variant on comment spam cropped up earlier today beneath my earlier post on Susan Sontag. Webloggers regularly receive spam comments that attach some URL or other [typically for cheap mortgages, prescription drugs, or other marital aids] to an otherwise contentless or irrelevant remark. This latest item varied in that before it attached the offending URL it lifted and repeated verbatim the body of the first genuine comment (in this case, one from David Giacalone) that had previously been left on the post. The point of this gesture escapes me.
[Post title courtesy of Kate Bush, always a bit of a strange phenomenon herself.]