I made 69 cents because of my blog! Dude! A few weeks ago, I joined the Amazon Affiliates program (you’ve probably noticed the ads in the sidebar). My dad purchased one of the books that I had showcased and I got a commission of 69 cents! This will only encourage me to become more aggressive in my attempts to sell you crap you don’t need. I’ll start devoting entire blog entries to pitching the new Shakira or the Friends boxed DVD collection. Because I’m beginning to see dollar signs in this whole blogging thing.
As I mentioned yesterday, I was at a fundraiser last night and I shared a table with two close friends. I’m not sure this was such a good idea. My friend Erin, whom I’ve known for several years, was whispering something to my friend Rose at the buffet line. Then they both looked back at me and shook their heads. I have a sinking feeling that all those drunken secrets I’ve shared with Erin are coming back to haunt me.

I can’t find Kate Bush’s new CD on iTunes, which means I’m going to have to order the actual CD. It’s funny how I’ve become accustomed to the instant gratification that can accompany a couple clicks of the mouse. I can’t immediately recall the last time I bought music in any sort of physical form. Not this year, I don’t think.
Kate Bush is one of those artists that either you get or you don’t. Bjork and Wilco are a couple similar examples that come to mind. The first time I heard Kate Bush’s music was in early 1994. Remember, I had a relatively sheltered childhood growing up in Green Bay and I was late to the party as far as a lot of 80s artists were concerned. The Olympics were taking place in Lillehammer and I was watching some kind of recap of downhill skiing and they were using Kate Bush’s “Rubberband Girl” as the soundtrack. I’m not sure why I remember something like that. I have a weird memory; I can recall lots of otherwise mundane moments that contain a sliver of personal significance. I remember thinking how unique her voice sounded and that I desperately wanted to hear more than the brief excerpt that was played on television. And I only had to wait eleven years for the next album. But it looks like it’s been worth the wait, as it’s getting some great reviews.

The problem of world hunger is overwhelming in its scope and magnitude. It the unfortunate offspring of events both natural and man made. Most of you reading this blog will probably never travel to a developing country to provide direct hunger relief. But there are small things that each of us can do that may influence living conditions in other parts of the world.
Much of the world devotes its resources to satisfying the needs and wants of a relatively small but enormously wealthy population. Many of the most common cash crops–like coffee, bananas, and sugar–are just that, a means of earning cash for the corporations that own the land on which these crops are grown. The farmers who tend these crops will probably not consume any of what they grow; it simply isn’t part of their diet. We can choose to consume things like fair-trade coffee, ensuring that farmers themselves (and their communities) receive the profits of their labor. We can support businesses that sell fair-trade products (McDonald’s recently began selling free-trade coffee).
Of course, the best way to make a difference is to support one of the many NGOs that are working to end world hunger. But it doesn’t hurt to be conscious of the things we consume and how those things are produced.

Republicans are fond of criticizing us liberals for being a bunch of hedonistic, free-loving, natural-law-defying perverts. But you know that all that sexual repression is bound to create some dark alleys in the Republican male psyche. Exhibit 1: The New Yorker’s examination of Scooter Libby’s one attempt at literary greatness, The Apprentice. It’s supposed to be some sort of erotically-charged thriller. Here’s an excerpt:
At age ten the madam put the child in a cage with a bear trained to couple with young girls so the girls would be frigid and not fall in love with their patrons. They fed her through the bars and aroused the bear with a stick when it seemed to lose interest.
Um, kinky. But kinky in a holy-crap-what-kind-of-sites-on-the-Internet-do-you-visit sort of way. I wonder if Scooter is lying awake at night, hoping that he doesn’t get stuck with a cellmate who read the book and wants to act out his favorite passages.

My friend Rosie is featured this week on the Activist Architect blog. Rose is the kind of friend who makes you feel that world can’t be all that bad if there are people like her in it. Go read about her and you’ll see what I mean.