Klickitat Street

The ass, she is dragging today. I stayed up until midnight watching I Love New York, the VH1 show starring New York, the woman from two seasons of Flavor of Love.

There's been some talk, mostly regarding children, about whether TV works like a depressant. I'd make the case that it depends, on what you're watching, how long, who with, what mood you started out in. All I know is when New York went swimming in Mexico with the dolphins, with her big fake hair and big fake eyelashes, and she caught a faceful of water, and she said, "That son-of-a-bitch dolphin splashed in my face!"? Mucho enjoyment.
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I'm always amazed that people can write about money in an interesting way. There's Liz Perle's Money: A Memoir, and on Sunday, I saw a series in the Washington Post about some D.C.-area folk who are trying to meet their financial resolutions.
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As Whitesnake once wondered, "Is this love ... that I'm feeling?" so one can wonder about happiness. Defining what happiness is is surprisingly tricky. You could write a whole book on that subject alone.

As it turns out, someone already did. Darrin M. McMahon makes the case in Happiness: A History that happiness on earth is a relatively new concept, and that pleasure being part of happiness is an even newer idea. I'm looking forward to reading this. I Love New York has a reunion show, but until then, I believe I'm free.