What if you asked strangers what they think about you? After you’ve stepped inside a restaurant, office, or whatever, and seen someone shoot you a look you couldn’t place, wouldn’t it be interesting to circle back to ask that person about their initial impression? (Assuming, of course, they didn’t run for the hills.) Maybe they were thinking the precisely what you imagined, maybe they concluded the opposite, or, and this just may be the most troublesome possibility, maybe they didn’t notice you at all.

Former U.S. Attorney David Iglesias recently visited The Daily Show with Jon Stewart to explain why he was fired by the Bush Administration.

I’m just recovering from four days at Bonnaroo, which included a day of sweltering heat, an evening of pouring rain, and staying up until 5:30 a.m. to watch Kanye West perform (more on that later).

In my second visit to the Manchester farm, I witnessed a ton of incredible performances, including M.I.A. (an incredibly exciting show that turned into a massive rave), Metallica (who despite my dislike of their apparent disdain for the Internet, rocked a huge Friday night crowd), Tegan and Sara (who made me wonder how I’d never heard any of their songs), and Lupe Fiasco (who used a full band, DJ, and three singers to deliver an inspiring performance).

Bonnaroooooooooooo!

A recent Newsweek article offers a cursory discussion of the difference between ignorance and stupidity. Sparked by yet another book on Gen-Y’s apparent inability to remember the facts their grandparents had burned into their brains, Newsweek wonders if intelligence is better measured by the ability to remember facts or the ability to think critically. If only the folks who develop high school proficiency exams were inclined to have the same discussion, we might not be a nation seemingly flooded with anti-intellectuals.

It may seem as they we’ve gone off to hibernate for the winter. The truth is that it takes a while for the three of us to decide what the heck we want to do here.

A lady just walked over to my desk to tell me she had birthday cake. So I walk over and snag a piece. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste, of course.

As we are talking I ask, “so how old are you?” She makes a strange face and says, “I’d rather not say.”

I’m thinking that if you bring in a birthday cake for your own fucking birthday, you don’t have a right to make a puss face when someone asks how old you are.

This weekend, while watching the Formula 1 race at Magny-Cours in France, it became very clear how F1 and NASCAR are different.

No, it had nothing to do with the cars or the track, but rather something the announcer said.

While the camera focused on Fernando Alonso going through a chicane, he yelled, “Look at that car dance on the knife-edge of adhesion!”

In NASCAR, the announcer would have translateed as” “Wooohoooo, look at that boy go!”

Us Llamas have been taking in as much World Cup Soccer/Football as we can. But to me, it looks like the most important skill is not dribbling, shooting, or even scoring.

The most important skill appears to be falling down on the ground and rolling around like a kid every time you are bumped.

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I could design these buildings, too. All I need is one 2×4, a stick of gum, and a Swiss Army knife.

It must be terrible to be a gay Mexican trying to sneek over the border with your male lover. Especially if he looks middle-eastern.