What follows is a personal history of gay pride. Much of this was posted last year at my NSFW blog. There is something about Gay Pride that gets the word processors spinning, as seen in this rant… This year, Pride is out of the park and into the concrete. It remains to be seen whether it will work or not. Here is how it has gone until now.
1978- I went downtown to a dirty bookstore on a Sunday afternoon. There were guys dancing in the parking lot. I went inside and saw a sign advertising Gay Pride Day, or whatever it was called then. I asked the clerk about it. He said, if I had been paying attention to my sexual needs by going out, I would have known about it.
1980- I was living in Seattle that summer. I was eating lunch at the royal fork when the parade went down Broadway. The rally was in Volunteer Park later. Since the sun was out, some of the men in the crowd took their shirts off. A lesbian speaker asked the men to put their shirts back on, out of solidarity with women, who cannot go in public without shirts.
1981- I was staying in Arcata, California. My host and I took the bus to San Francisco for the Gay Day Parade….Greyhound pulled into town early, and the patches of fog were floating in front of the hills. I went to a donut shop near Castro to get something to eat…This was the early part of the Reagan years, and rumors of a right wing crackdown on gays were rampant. I had a sense of doom about the men in that donut shop…and I was probably right, although not in the way I would have imagined
The parade was like nothing I had ever seen. It was like the old July fourth parades here, with the crowd four and five deep the entire length of the Market Street…and they were all gay. The entire community…preppie, leather, drag, twink, dyke…was there…I climbed into a tree to get a better look. A policeman came by, and said ” That tree doesn’t want you in it”…There was a huge rainbow banner carried by a crew. This was the first I had heard of the rainbow as a gay symbol.
The floats,the bands,the groups..it went on and on, for over three hours. Finally, I got tired of it all and talked to some old lady in a McDonalds…A few weeks later, I was back in Atlanta, starting a temp job with a blueprint company. That job lasted 26 years…About that same time, reports started to come out about Gay men coming down with a rare skin cancer, Kaposi’s Sarcoma. That phenomenon is still going on as well.

1989- The Reagan years came and went. I kept a job, got an apartment, and had a life. AIDS took root and grew. And I didn’t make it to a local Gay Pride Celebration…Finally, I got on my bike and rode downtown on the appropriate day. I pulled down 7th street until I got to Piedmont, and saw the action. An impressive (for the time) crowd of about 5000 marched by, until some familiar faces passed. One of them had rubber horns glued onto his forehead, and someone had a sign that said “radical faeries”. In those days you didn’t have to register as a group.
We all went to the park, where a rally happened. A new mayor was being chosen that year, and all the candidates were at the rally… I got on my bike, took my shirt off, and rode home. I went to a pool party the next day with a lovely sunburn. Whatever good feelings I had about going to gay pride were overshadowed by my stupidity with the sun.
1991- This was the year Atlanta broke into the big time… I met my friend Buddy, and we parked near the site of a pool party after the parade. Buddy used to live in Midtown, and greatly enjoyed strolling past the big trees and restored houses to Peachtree Street…We found a place to stand and watch the show on Peachtree, across from the Fox Theatre. The parade was much, much bigger than just two years ago, with bands, drummers, floats, and mascara slinging drag queens. There was a fat lesbians club in a Toyota pickup truck…we were very impressed with the truck.
After a while, some people we knew came by, and we joined the action. Mish was there, and he had a little routine ..he talked for a while, said love yourself and don’t forget your rubbers, pulled up his dress to reveal a huge cotton stuffed pecker. It was quite the crowd pleaser…Somehow, the word got back that the crowd was estimated at 30,000. This was unheard of for lil ole Atlanta. After a few minutes in the Park, we went down the street to a fabulous pool party.
1992- The progress of the previous year continued this year, with an estimated 70,000 at the parade…The Radical Faeries had a big presence this year. We made some signs and streamers, and were quite a sight. I made a noisemaker out of a milk jug and a few rocks, and had a big time beating it while running in circles screaming. It was only when the parade was over that I noticed the blisters on my fingers.
1993- Buddy and I met a group from GANG (Greater Atlanta Naturist Group) and marched with them. We saw a friend of ours watching the parade. He was known to be fighting the virus, and did not look too good.

1996 or 1997 I missed a couple of years… in north Georgia camping once, at home with an attitude another time…and when I talked to my neighbor Mike, we agreed to go sit on the sidewalk and see the show…Now, by this time the whole thing had become predictable. Dykes on Bikes at the start, all the bars with big floats, the leather guys, the drag queens, and the hand wringing about our image…. It was all there. I saw some people I hadn’t seen in a while, saw a couple of hours of the parade, and went looking for somewhere to have lunch.
1998 or 1999 I was still in GANG at this point…not for much longer though. That is another story, about the fallibility of man made organizations. They asked for volunteers to work the booth in the park, and I signed up for Sunday morning while the parade was going on…We sat down behind a table, and took off our shirts. Lots of passerbys thought we were naked, and came over to look behind the table. I should have borrowed Mish’s prop to show them.
2007- The Radical Faeries were having a revival. I made some wings from cardboard, and covered them with lavender wrapping paper. I met some costume wearers in the bad part of Peachtree, and joined the parade after Baton Bob…I was taking pictures, and having a fine time. The crowds kept getting bigger and more electric as the parade got closer to the park. Finally, I took the wings off, and went home.
And that is one man’s story of Gay Pride. During the millenium I have mostly stayed at home, and chuckled as the thunderstorm passed over the crowd…Where it was once a statement to go to Pride, now it is now niche marketing. If you stay at home there will be twenty five twinks, dykes, and children to take your place. Pride can be a powerful act of liberation , or just a big loud party. It has progressed to something you do because you want to, not because you have to.
Unless you are a pro (i.e. a bar worker, organization bigshot, or newly out and want to see it all), in which I suppose you should not miss a moment…This year the event has been ejected from Piedmont Park. How this will work remains to be seen. The air conditioned civic center just might be a better venue for the different festival booths. How the parade will work going into town remains to be seen.
Sometimes you have to write some nonsense to make things come out the way you planned them. Some call this filler. In the days of Live television, the crime shows always ended with a search for the murder weapon. If the show was running slow, the gun was found right away. If they had some time to waste, the detective took a few minutes searching the apartment for the weapon. In the modern Gay Pride Parade, there is no need for filler.

PG was happily wasting the fourth in his neighborhood chatroom when the word came in about “Jesse”. At first, PG thought they meant a resident of Portland, who used to live here, and was affectionately known as “HO”. Further comments used the name Helms, and PG went to CNN.Com to investigate. There was a black and white picture of Jesse Helms in the corner reserved for portraits of the recently deceased.
PG prefers not to trash talk the current inductees into the afterlife. There are plenty to do that for him, and some do a better job. The passing of Mr. H does bring back memories of a September morning in 1990.
Jesse Helms was scheduled to speak at a conference at the First Baptist Church. The conference was some kind of Protect the Family nonsense. The First Baptist Church was a huge thing with columns on Peachtree Street in Midtown. PG had attended this church as a child.
ACT UP decided to have a greeting for Mr. Helms. PG was working a mile south of the church, and took MARTA to have a look. The rally was a small, festive affair. A stage was set up to one side. Atone point a man with a guitar sang a Van Morrison song, “Domino”.
There was a line of people carrying signs. Many were in costume. A local art college was offended by Mr. Helms, and showed up in force. There was a young man of Asian descent, wearing a t shirt. The shirt had the slogan ” Homo Eroticism Lives in My Soul”
PG did not carry a sign, or wear a costume, other than his everyday workwear. He was content to wander around the crowd, greeting people he knew. A van came down from Short Mountain, and PG visited before going back to work.
Jesse Helms did not show up. The First Baptist Church was sold to a developer and demolished in 1999.

I read an item at yellowdoggrannie’s place this morning. It was a link to a video about the writing of the Star Spangled Banner. YDG said it made her cry. It set off my BS detector.
I am not a history buff. I do know that the War of 1812 was not the most glorious part of American History.
In 1812, Napoleon was on a rampage, but about to screw it up. He invaded Russia on June 24, just six days after the U.S. Congress gave approval to “Mr. Madison’s War”.
According to St. Wikipedia, the declaration passed by the smallest margin of any war declaration in American History.
The War was caused by several things. The British were “impressing” sailors for duty in their Navy. Among the deserters and British subjects were some Americans.
The British were supporting the Native Americans who were fighting the white man. There was also some talk about Annexing territory in Canada, either to keep or to use as a bargaining chip with the British.
On the East side of the Atlantic, England had a change of government at this time, towards a regime that wanted peace with America. This being the early nineteenth century, word of this development did not make it to America in time to stop the War.
The War went on for a couple of years. It distracted the British from fighting Napoleon, and was a strain on the Young American republic. In the Summer of 1814, negotiations were underway to end the conflict. The British launched a few military campaigns to put pressure on the U.S.A. Washington D.C. was captured and burned. The next move was the capture of Baltimore.
This is where the video begins its tale. Where the video said hundreds of British ships, Wikipedia says 19. An attorney, Francis Scott Key, was negotiating the release of an American POW. He secured his release, but they could not leave until the bombardment of Fort McHenry was complete.
Here is an account of the story:
At Fort McHenry, some 1,000 soldiers under the command of Major George Armistead awaited the British naval bombardment…. The attack began in the evening of September 13, as the British fleet of some nineteen ships began pounding the fort with Congreve rockets (from rocket vessel HMS Erebus) and mortar shells (from bomb vessels HMS Terror, HMS Volcano, HMS Meteor, HMS Devastation, and HMS Aetna). After an initial exchange of fire, the British fleet withdrew to just beyond the range of Fort McHenry’s cannons and continued to bombard the American redoubts for the next 25 hours. Although 1,500 to 1,800 cannonballs were launched at the fort, damage was minimal.
After nightfall, Cochrane ordered a landing to be made by medium boats to the shore just west of the fort, away from the harbor opening on which the fort’s defense was concentrated….Operating in darkness and in foul weather, the diversionary attack failed. On the morning of September 14, the 30 ft (9.1 m) × 42 ft oversized American flag, which had been made a few months before by local flagmaker Mary Pickersgill and her 13 year old daughter, flew over Fort McHenry, and Cochrane and Brooke knew that victory had eluded them
Mr. Key saw the flag the next day. He wrote a poem to the tune of a British drinking song, “To Anacreon in Heaven”. The song was made the National Anthem in 1931, and has been (badly) sung ever since.
On September 24, the Treaty of Ghent ended the conflict. The verdict was “status quo ante bellum”. In other words, nothing was changed by the death of those men.
The word of the treaty did not reach America for a few weeks. The Battle of New Orleans was fought after the end of the War.
The video said the Flag at Fort McHenry was held up through the night by men, many of whom died. This might be true. It is also true that the negotiations were about to yield fruit. It would take a few weeks for word of the Battle of Baltimore to reach Europe, at which point the War was already over. Status Quo Ante Bellum.

Patriotism is one of the games that almost everyone plays. The rules seem to vary.
In 1967, JSM was flying planes in Nam, I was in the eighth grade, and BHO was in the first grade. He was in Hawaii, which might have been where JSM went for R&R if Hanoi did not have other ideas.
America was about to hit a turning point about the Vietnam War. At first people were supportive, albeit without much enthusiasm. Opposition started to arise, and was frequently confused with treason. As the war dragged on, the homefront began to see things differently.
To this reporter, many of the patriots of 1967 were the ones who opposed the war. The conflict in Indochina was to cause many problems for the United States. Eventually, Richard Nixon got a fig leaf treaty that he called Peace with Honor. The early opposition was heard, but not after losing more than fifty eight thousand fine men.

That is the first way to be a patriot…to keep an eye on the government, and speak out in opposition when it is needed.
Another way is to keep the United States strong and healthy. One way to do this is work hard and pay taxes.
Now, the conservative windbags whine loudly about paying taxes. They want to pay for the current war by cutting taxes to make the economy grow. If we had no taxes at all the economy would grow even more.
The war in Babylon was an experiment in war without sacrifice. There was a tax cut when it was apparent we were planning an invasion. The national debt has gone out of control, and the federal reserve bank has cut the interest rates. The result is that the dollar is not worth as much as it once was. The oil market is based on the dollar. Oil is just as valuable as ever. The dollar is not, and it takes more dollars to buy a barrel of oil. This is an important factor in the rise of gas prices.
The way to keep America strong is to follow the three basic rules of the workplace: show up, stay awake, don’t kill anyone
The citizens of the United States are a remarkable group of people. One way to be a patriot is to show respect for these people, and for yourself.
Another way to help America is to quit consuming so much. If we drove smarter, we would not need as much gasoline. We would not be so big if we didn’t eat as much. Maybe you can put a sweater on in the winter instead of turning up the thermostat. We are heading in this direction, but have a way to go.
Much of what you hear and read is not true. The so called conservatives are just as guilty as the so called mainstream media. Think for yourself. The freedom to think is a part of America that you are sometimes discouraged from exercising, but it is important.
This is a dangerous world, and we have a military to keep them away from our borders. We are also involved in a tough war of our own choosing. It is to be hoped that our next President will find an acceptable conclusion to this conflict.
Meanwhile, this is the fourth of july. It is a day to enjoy the good life we have here. America is a fine country. It has given me a good life. While I am not blind to the problems, there is no where else I would rather be.

By the time this is posted, it will be July 2 in G.M.T. Many things have happened on this day.
In non leap years, July 2 is the middle of the year, with 182 days before and after. In Leap years, it is day 184, which is the second day of the second half.
In 1776, the Continental Congress voted to declare Independence from Great Britain. Many feel that this is the true birthday of the United States. Of course, the tradition is to celebrate on the fourth, and tradition usually wins out over facts.
Taking the freedom theme a step further, in 1839, fifty three rebelling African slaves, led by Joseph Cinque, took over the slave ship Amistad. In 1863, this was the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg. This battle is considered the turning point of the War Between the States.
In 1881, President James Garfield was fatally wounded by Charles Guiteau. The cartoon cat did not have a comment.
In 1934, this was the end of the Night of the Long Knives. Ernst Rohm died this night.
In a reversal from the freedom theme, in 1962 the first Wal Mart opened in Rogers, Arkansas.
In 1964, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act.

Most days have famous people born on them. On July 2, 1877, Hermann Hesse entered the earth. In 1932, Wendy’s founder Dave Thomas was born. Richard Petty followed in 1937, Jose Canseco in 1964, and Lindsay Lohan in 1986.

How many dates feature the death of an actor who played a Funeral home employee? Fred Gwynne, who played Herman Munster, left the planet on July 2, 1993. Other performers to exit stage right include Betty Grable (1973), Lee Remick (1991), Jimmy Stewart(1997), and Beverly Sills (2007). Other famous people who didn’t see July third include Nostradamus (1566), Ernest Hemingway (1961) and Vladimir Nabokov (1977).
Many thanks to Wikipedia for the information in this feature.

AtlMalcontent links to a feature at the Daily Kos about JSM( He called the diarist a cretin). It is a picture of him waving at reporters on his return from ‘Nam. The problem here is that Bill “You Bet” Bennett says JSM can’t raise his arms above his shoulders.
As in many algorenet adventures, the goodies are in the comment thread. We see the unedited picture, which has Carol McCain smiling behind him. She is the first wife, who stayed married to him while he was in captivity. You are going to hear that story again, even though she is supportive of JSM today.
There is lots of back and forth in this thread. The consensus is that there are many reasons to fuss at JSM, but whining about his war record is below the belt.
I tend to agree, with one caveat. Vietnam Vet John Kerry was swiftboated, while Alabama National Guard Vet George Bush won a second term. What goes around comes around. Max Cleland might have something to say about this.
There was one comment in the thread I would like to see some backup on. It comes from David Kroning, and it goes like this: “I don’t think this is fair… He’s a lot older now than in that picture. And, McCain has already said he is not a war “hero.” In fact, he said very clearly in an interview with 60-Minutes in the 1980s that he considered himself to be a war “criminal” for “having dropped napalm an innocent women and children.”Why?”
This is a problem I have had with JSM for a while. On Super Tuesday, my choices were JSM and BHO, and I got to thinking about whether JSM was a hero. The thought occurred to me that he had dropped napalm on North Vietnam. While his record as a POW is admirable, those women and children are not going to come back.
So, I copied that quote, and entered it in Google. The only thing the G beast came up with was the same Daily Kos comment thread.

Back a war or two ago, a phrase entered the vocabulary. The expression was collateral damage. This referred to civilians killed in a combat action. It sounds a lot nicer than dead women and children.
To hear the war supporters tell it, the enemy was causing this. The terrorists would move women and children into areas they knew were going to be attacked, so they could be killed. The terrorists would get sympathy for their cause when this happened. To the war supporters, it was a cost of doing business.
The past few days, there has been discussion at this facility about speaking out when you hear something you don’t like. People say it is bigotry and hate, which sounds a lot worse than something you don’t like. Just like collateral damage sounds nicer than dead children.
When people put on their warpaint about to fight bigotry, there is frequently collateral damage.

There was an incident that illustrates my point. This was when I was at Redo Blue, working with the Bully for Jesus. I will use the initials BFJ.
One day BFJ heard someone make a comment using the phrase “your daddy said”. This comment was made by a white person, referring to another white person. BFJ is a black person, and the comment offended him.
BFJ decided to vent his feelings about this comment. Since he was working on a rush job across the room from the white person, he made his comments in a loud voice. This way the white person across the room could hear what he said, and BFJ could work on his rush job.
Towards the end of his speech, BFJ made the comment “when your mother and your father forsake you, you still have your father in heaven” This is supposed to be in the Bible.
BFJ was staring at me and shouting when he said this. Later, he said he had not been talking to me.
This comment pushed me past my limits. BFJ conducted a ministry on company time, and he had a nasty temper. I don’t know if this was a bigoted comment or not, but I had to say something. Sometimes, you need to stand up to a bully. And you best be prepared for a fight, which is exactly what the bully wants.
Someone said once that you should never wrestle with a pig. You will only get dirty, and the pig will enjoy it.
I left a note on his desk saying that ” My mother and father have not forsaken me” We proceeded to have a closed door meeting. He argued with everything I said, admitted no wrongdoing, and chewed me out repeatedly for what the other white person had said. When I was at the point where I thought he was the lowest scum on the planet, BFJ said “Jesus made me what I am today” .
We continued to work closely together for another three years or so. I witnessed a few hundred more hours of his ministry. One day the manager called me into the office, and told me not to come back.
The point of this story is, when you “Stand Up” against “bigoted comments”, you might need to be prepared to mud wrestle with someone who thinks he is building his faith. You should learn the difference between bigotry and being too sensitive. It is best to keep things between you and the person who offended you, and not cause collateral damage.

PG looked at the clock, and saw that afternoon was about to convert into evening. It had been a no drive day.
Through the magic of the algorenet, PG had traveled far and wide. The server for many of his sputterings was in California, and all that pixelage rambled thousands of miles. Once, PG chatted with a neighbor across the street, and the typoids went to silicone valley and back before going fifty yards east.
PG also copped some lovely music. An MP3 site was going to post 24 items in 24 hours. While PG had not gotten any of these yet today, last night he got some lovely material from David Bowie and the Replacements.
The picture he had worked on the last few weeks was finally coming into shape. The last of the changes was hopefully made to the model, and as many bugs as possible were erased from the design. The final assembly will probably be next weekend, along with the fourth.
There was a comment to his last post, and PG made a reply. There is a long and unhappy story that PG could use to illustrate how he feels, but does not need the negativity tonight. The memories that would fuel the story are not going to go anywhere, even though PG would be happier if they did.
The bottom line is, there is a difference between standing up for what is right, and engaging in a playground quarrel. It can be tough to tell the difference sometimes. Even if you are right to stand up against evil, there is a chance that innocent people will get caught in the crossfire. There is even a cliché prayer for this: Lord, give me the strength to change the things I can change, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to tell the difference One of the offices that PG visits has another version of this. Lord, grant me the fortune to not see the people that I do not like, the kindness to greet those that I do like, and the eyesight to tell the difference” That might not be exactly how it goes, but verbatim memory is not PG’s best quality.
After a while, the laundry was done, the coffee drank, the chatters offended, and the picture still not finished. It was time to go look for yard sales. PG found one next to a McMansion under construction. There was a NY Yankees baseball hat for one dollar. The world series’ of 96 and 99 are a bitter memory, and PG is a Georgia native. Despite this, he paid the lady a dollar for the hat. He does not know where he will wear it. Maybe at night no one will know the difference.
In a little while, PG will clean up and walk a few blocks to a potluck. It will be a no driving day. These are rare, and are appreciated. The devils deal our culture made with oil is not going to go anywhere. One day of not driving will not make much of a difference, except to make PG feel better.

It is said you cannot write the perfect country and western song without something about trains. This perfect song also needs to have something about rain. Snow should be a good substitute, especially for the modern country and western singer. The perfect blog post does not exist. This post in particular does not mention trucks, mama, prison, or getting drunk.

In an early morning discourse, I said that Martin Niemoller was rolling in his grave looking for the royalties from his poem, “First they came…“. A little research later, I don’t think he ever wrote it down.
For those of you with very short memories, here is the work…

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn’t a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.

-Martin Niemoller

Martin Niemoller was the son of a Lutheran minister. In World War 1, he served on a U boat crew. Harold Marcuse tells this story: “Niemöller was a commander of a German U-boat in World War I. A seminal incident in his moral outlook, as he related in many public speeches later in his life, occurred when he commanded his submarine crew not to rescue the sailors of a boat he torpedoed, but let them drown instead. “ After the war he became a Lutheran Minister. He was originally a supporter of Mr. Hitler, but became an opponent. He was imprisoned in Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945.
After the war, he began to speak out. The famous poem was derived from these speeches.
It was never written down in typical poet fashion. There are several versions of it from him, and many more as the years rolled by. It has been quoted, updated, and quoted again.
In addition to the four groups mentioned above, the Nazis also came for mentally ill, incurably ill, or people in occupied countries. The legend is that when asked if he included Catholics, he said “I never said it. They can take care of themselves.” When the McCarthy fever hit America, he declined to mention Communists.
With regard to the royalties, I could not see that it was ever copywrited. I do not know who “owns the rights”. Some have even speculated that the poem was not composed by Mr. Niemoller.
In the past week, I have seen the poem twice in blogs that I read. One was in reference to gay marriage. The other was because a teacher heard students say things he did not like. I don’t think either of these issues has anywhere near the power of the holocaust.
There is the Rebel looking for a cause syndrome. Many people just want to fight about something, and the cause is secondary to the lust for battle. When a poem like this is used to fire up people for a shaky cause, it brings discredit to the poem.
There is the matter of the “Next Hitler” argument. During the run up to the first war against Iraq, Saddam Hussein was routinely called the next Hitler. While this may be a valid argument at times, it is like the boy who cried wolf if used too much.
Maybe a general moratorium is needed on the use of “First they Came…”

P.G. realized at midnight that he would not be sleeping through the night. Not for lack of trying.
The day before, his boss asked him to come in at nine instead of ten thirty. Just as he was beginning to enjoy staying up to midnight and sleeping until eight, another change had been thrown his way. Not wanting to do much, he decided to go to bed early, and tossed and half slept until 12. And he thought and thought. Thinking too much was always a problem. The comparison of who was uglier, Neil Young or Neal Boortz, would have to wait until another day.
The computer was still turned on, so that was a natural stop. There was a parodic post about how the drought in Atlanta was ruining gay pride, and by association the fabulicity of Rosie O’Donnell. Next, the story of a College Teacher in Nashville. The students said some bigoted and yucky things. The instructor quoted a poem by Martin Niemoller, who is rolling in his grave wondering about the royalties.
Next on the “agenda” was an ex straight writer in New Yuck ( This facility is NSFW The user name is PAYOR, the password is PASSWORD, use all caps ) It seems as though some institute in Sweden did a study about the size of the different sections of the brain. The brains of gay men were like the brains of straight women, and the brains of straight men were like the brains of gay women. There was no report of the brain parts of dog lovers compared to people who drive S.U.V.’s.
Next stop on the midnight train under Georgia was Catharsis. Written by Iraqi Exile Abbas, this conduit has provided P.G. with much amusement, and proof that the surge is working. His comment today was brief… Firebrand populist to some, childish jackass to others, and profusely ugly to all. What’s he doing here? When you follow the link, you see a portrait of Shia boytoy Muqtada al-Sadr. He is number 13 on the Time magazine list of 100 influential people.
P.G. likes to peruse lists of 100 influential people, and is disappointed to not be included. He does not have the patience to click 100 times and see a different page for each I.P. When he sees that number one is The Dalai Lama ( hagiography by Deepak Chopra), he realizes that he is hungry and goes to make a sandwich.
Spell check suggestions for this feature:
blogosphere- heliosphere, lithosphere, photosphere, troposphere, biosphere
neo- neon, no. leo, geo, net, neg, new, zee
Dalai- dalia, adlai.
Sadr- sad
Boortz- Boorish, abort
parodic- parodied, parody. procodic, periodic
fabulicity- fabulists, publicity, multiplicity, catholicity, felicity