Who's the Freak?

The only reason I don't "blog" (apparently it's now a verb ergo yet another noun has been verbified) is that it just takes too long. By the time I get to the point of jotting things down I've usually thought of something else (perhaps there's something to this claim about Geminis having the attention span of a gnat). Much of this really has to do with the flow of information. Over the span of 10 minutes I can learn all manner of things. Today I learned that opposing counsel in a case still doesn't quite get where I'm headed (death to GMAC) that a friend of mine was disciplined by the state bar BECAUSE he had a nervous breakdown (seems beyond harsh) that Hope Solo is a stone fox (I'll just say I had visions of replenishing my salt reserves in some relatively creative way) and that, despite the side effects it has on my lactose intolerant self, good ice cream is very hard to turn down.

I also learned that the construction going on at the intersection of the 71 and Mission has been ongoing with little evidence of progress for months, that my old house on Grand in Pomona looks like crap (especially vexing since my grandfather and I added several hundred square feet to it) that Yoda the kitten will fall asleep in pretty much any position, including under my chin, and that low carb diets, while generally a good way to go, are tough when one is addicted to simple carbs. All in all it seems that, as a nation, the US of A has now gone whole hog into information overload. I get information on my cell, my tablet, multiple PCs and, now and again, via television (albeit rarely). While I enjoy this virtual banter I fear that few manage to truly consume all that is offered and we are left with little more than farts and sound bites, but I digress.

This, of course, leads us to the question posed in the Title of this particular blog, Who's the Freak? This question comes from a dialogue between my daughter and I concerning my unabashed attraction to the nubile Kat Dennings. Kat has a body that could easily kill the average heterosexual male, a rapier wit and a viewpoint that is best described as "atypical" (not unlike my own). This came about after my daughter saw me watching the uber-epic "House Bunny" and noted "You like her don't you" (referring to the delicious and nutritious Ms. Dennings) to which I responded - "Well, yes." Now, I don't know if my daughter felt I was the freak for finding Ms. Dennings hot and juicy (apparently a man my age is supposed to turn off all vestiges of testosterone) or that the pleasantly pneumatic Ms. Dennings was the freak but, if truth be told, my thought was that if freaks either of us might be (we do, after all, share an astrological sign for whatever noise that's worth) then God bless freaks one and all unless, of course, the person really is a freak of the circus-worthy variety in which case everyone should have to pay to play.