does anyone else get the impression that the mayor of London is a slob?

I know, I’m probably pissing off my British (or at least those of you from London) readers, but the guy really just was a mess at the closing ceremonies.

C’mon, forget that he didn’t button his jacket, or that his shirt was coming untucked, or even that his hair was mussed. His demeanor on the stage was more like frat boy given the honor of tapping the keg, not representing a city and nation in a symbolic gesture of “passing the baton” (perhaps I shouldn’t use that metaphor — it seems to have been dropped a couple of times already).

A real live “Home Alone”

These poor folks are gonna be in a world of trouble when they get back home. Seems that they left their kid at the airport when they boarded their flight to Paris.

Paris! Just like in the movie. Ha!

It turns out they are an ultra-Orthodox Jewish family. Must be a cultural thing to leave the kid behind when traveling…wink wink. The last time it happened was about 2000 years ago.

I just made Ludacris very uncool

Anything left in my car becomes my property, so following along that line, I totally enjoyed Celia Cruz’s CD La Negra Tiene Tumbao, and an amazing Arturo Sandoval CD that I may rip at work.  Fantastic!

There was also a Ludacris CD that I was tempted to pitch out the window, but didn’t want to litter the street. Instead, I did the obvious thing: I played it.

Curiosity? Maybe. Intellectual experimentation? Perhaps. A weird sense of voyeuristic insanity? Yeah, that’s the ticket. The truth is that I enjoy all kinds of music, and while rap and hip hop generally arouse in me a great deal of disgust, there are moments when I find the music palatable, even catchy. As long I can tune out the lyrics.

Here’s the confession: I actually like the sound of Money Maker, although the lyrics offend beyond all measure. Still, here I was, listening to the song.

Let me paint that picture for you: fat, middle-aged white woman in business suit, driving the very sensible vanilla white Ford mini-van, pulls up to a red light with the bass maxed out, bobbing her head to Money Maker. Just then four black young men pull up in the car next to mine. They all look over at me, and I look back, still bobbing my head in that very uncool way that only a fat middle-aged white woman in a business suit could possibly have, and then they register the song.

Please. Someone has to invent some kind of video device that is automatically activated when things like this happen because I will never, ever, forget the looks on their faces. I would win the million dollars in America’s Funniest Videos.

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