Diego and Rico update:

Diego's package has dropped.

Rico? Not so much.

I'm not sure if there's a maturation issue here or what, but the vet told us to let them know when their testes had "Dropped" so we can get them both neutered. So why, if they're brothers born at the same time, does one have a UPS parcel package down below and the other is strictly the super-saver envelope?

Nature: she is a mystery.

Very good quote from The New York Times in its review of Jake in Progress:

"Jake in Progress," finally, is shot with a single camera. What does this mean? In general, the difference between multicamera sitcoms and single-camera sitcoms is that multicamera sitcoms are bad, and single-camera ones - like "Scrubs," "Arrested Development," "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and now, with any luck, "Jake in Progress" - are good.

Li'l Foaty Omie Head has the Thursday randoms as he talks about American Idol, Fever Pitch, Whole Foods, SXSW iPodcasting and boss blogging.

Note to self: Don't let Cosa within a mile of a loaded firearm.

(Link courtesy Keckler at This Is Not Over.)

I came to Schlotzsky's to get some emergency sketch writing done (deadline approaches, tonight) and as soon as I plugged in my laptop and sat down to work, I knocked over a salt shaker.

No big.

What was a "big" was when some weird liquid started pouring out of my laptop and I felt something cold on my lap.

The liquid was a huge Barq's Root Beer I'd brought to the table that somehow spilled everywhere. My lap and crotch got soaked. Some nice guy moved my laptop's power cable so as not to kill me but the table was still completely covered in murky, brown, carbonated drink.

Two moppings and a lot of napkins later, my laptop is safe again and I can sit down. I hear Hemmingway used to write like this. But, as I mentioned, my crotch got drenched (thank God for dark pants), so now I've got sticky Barq's Root Beer Crotch.

Hey, hey, hey, now ladies. Back off. I'm a married man.

You know how some people worry about getting fired for their blog?

Well, what happens when your bosses start blogging?

One of the things that annoys me about celebrity journalism (that is journalism about celebrities, not actual celebrities trying to beat deadlines and file stories) is that once someone gets a certain level of fame in a certain field, they get a title like, "Comic," or "President" or "Porn star" that sticks with them for life, even if they no longer bear those markings that made them famous.

Case in point: "Limp Bizkit Rocker Sues Over Web Sex Tape." Forget, for a second, that there's no such thing as a "Web tape." ("Web broadcast of tape," maybe.) What I object to here is calling Fred Durst a "rocker."

Seriously, folks, when was the last time that Fred Durst rocked? The '90s, maybe.

I think you should have to earn the title "Rocker" every year with a battery of guitar, vocal and groupie-climbing tests administered by stoned, bored teenagers.

You do not get to just be a rocker. You have to earn that shit. Once a year.

When I think of all who rock upon this planet, Fred Durst is not even invited to the Web site where that list is posted for public perusal. I think he rocked once, in like 1997, when he slipped on a Coke bottle on stage at a concert in New Jersey and his microphone accidentally hit the stage at just the right beat, causing a momentary, fleeting fizzure in the rock of Rock. And then, by the time he got to the dressing room, Fred Durst's rock moment was gone.

"Rocker?" Seriously?

Can I be "9-Month-Old Baby Gallaga?"

Or "Elementary School Flag Football Player?"

"Decade-Appropriate Mullet-Sporting, Horror-Fiction Writing Omar L. Gallaga?"

I think Fred should call up The Associated Press and say, "Hey, about that sex tape/Web article thing you just posted? What? No, the Web sex thing is fine. I'm calling about the headline. Where you call me 'rocker?' Yeah, can you fix that? Because that's wrong. I used to sort of jump on stage and bark out white-boy rap and there were guitars and drum machines and shit, but I, personally, never rocked. That wasn't me. Maybe members of my band rocked at one point or another, but as for me, I do not know of rocking. Please change the headline post haste. You've got the wrong guy."

Austin bloggers are up in arms today because of a Statesman story about blogging. It sounds like the basis for a very promising Charlie Kaufman/Nora Ephron screenplay called, "When Bloggers Met Meta."

I find nothing wrong with sticking up for blogs and for everybody pointing out that the governor is 1. Wrong, 2. Re-opening a can of worms that he should be glad was closed last year. Because those worms don't smell very good.

What I'm upset about is that nobody mentioned my long history of very partisan views that have shaken, yes, fucking SHAKEN the foundation of the blogging world! Like remember back in 2001 when I said that the 9/11 attacks were sad? And that we should pray and stuff? But then a few months later, I was being all liberal for a few weeks? And then I got a lot of my taxes back from the government, so I went totally conservative for like most of 2003.

Politics, people! I got my beat on the pulse of the Texas legislature! Check out this bold claim I'm about to make: "School finance is a mess!" Come on, Perry -- call me irresponsible! I can take it!

Don't I get to play and get all mad that I'm being belittled by the MSM (acronym I just learned today: "Mainstream Media.")? No? I'm too much part of the establishment?

Fine. Fuck you guys. I'm not enough blogger, I guess.

New Smallville recap is up:

Swiss Sis -- Lois Lane's sister Lucy comes for a visit from her boarding school in Switzerland. Turns out she's a little grifter and charms the pants off everyone before making off with $50,000. Wonder if she'll be able to find a place to deposit that back home.

It's the last recap until April since the show is on its spring mini-hiatus. And also because my brain can only take so many sustained weeks of witch artifact chasing and Lois Lane's annoying ass.

Not-really wisdom from a speech I gave at the University of Oklahoma last week to some journalism students.

Some myths and realities about the world of journalism:

Myth number 1: If you go into journalism, you will become an alcoholic, get divorced and die a lonely, miserable death pinned beneath some heavy backshop machinery in a mysterious newsroom "Accident" that happened right after you edited down a volatile reporter's massive enterprise feature down to a six inch-brite.
Reality: Many journalists now only drink socially.

Myth number 2: Newspapers, as we now know them, will cease to exist in 50 years.
Reality: This one really make publishers and newspaper editors mad. The reality, most editors will tell you, is closer to 15 to 20 years.

Myth number 3: If I get a good GPA for all my journalism classes in college, I'll get a job at a major newspaper.
Reality: Most newspaper editors were straight C students. Your straight A's will only intimidate an editor into tossing your application.

Myth number 4: Journalism pays badly.
Reality: Some forms of journalism pay very well, especially what we in the industry call "niche journalism." If you stalk Brad Pitt and get a photo of him kissing Angelina Jolie, preferably nude, you could be set for life. You could also make up a bunch of stories for the New York Times, which guarantees you a book deal and many lucrative talk show appearances.

Myth number 5: Journalism will make you jaded.
Reality: Oh, wait, I'm sorry... that one's true.