Matthew, On a Tear

It's been a good few weeks with Matthew, the four-year old master of his universe. His therapies are going nicely and he is responding more and more lately. He categorized some cards in a different colors and he is repeating more words. This morning he called me Dada to my face -- this might be the first time in more than a year that I heard this. Words cannot describe how much I missed that. Yesterday, he called Regina 'Mommy' when she asked him if he wanted to play downstairs. I may be supersitious but I woneder if this has to do with his diet. Getting an autistic child to eat anything substantial is a chore and he only likes chicken in the form of Wendy's chicken nuggets and from the local Chinese place. Everytime we have one of these boosts in word skills, it seems to coincide when he is enjoying protein. I'll never forget the week he ate scrambled eggs for an entire week -- it felt like he added a dozen new words to his language list.

Tim the one year-old is happy to prove that he is more like his older sister Nora than the Mighty Matthew. He can say dada, mama, baba for bottle and hi, which he does with a wave. Oh, and he clearly knows the meaning of the word No, especially when he hits he offswtich on the power strip for the TV. So far, he big trouble in a little package.

More Chainsaw Guitars, Please

Bob Mould is back with a new album Body of Song and he brought his guitars with him. I haven't bought a Mould record in ages and I always meant to pick up his electronica album although friends warned me off. Even in his so-so records, there's still some great fret work and plenty of painful lyrics for the morbid English major in me. Body of Song marries his buzzsaw guitar with some tasteful bloops and beeps and the result is quite warm. If I had a convertible, I'd blast this entire record while driving up Route 9 and over the Bear Mountain Bridge with a kid in the baby seat.

And for such a notorious sourpuss, Mould sounds happy these days. The titles aren't as dour as those from Beaster or Hubcap, and he has done a ton of radio interviews where he sounds like he's in a good space: out, happy, creative, and at peace with his place in rock history. Get Body of Song, play it loud.

And checkout his Boblog and also this killer interview on Minnesota Public Radio. Your computer's sub-woofers will appreciate the workout.

Growing On Me

The Will Farrell epic Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy is all over HBO and it is growing on me. We rented it last fall and it was stupid and immediately forgettable. Now that I've seen it three times this weekend, it's becoming a better movie. Nora caught the anchorman rumble with cameos from Vince Vaughn, Luke Wilson, Ben Stiller and a surprisingly un-annoying Tim Robbins. Wilson gets his arm lopped off in a fight and now Nora says, "Man, I didn't see that coming." It's good for a goof.

Mr. Roberts

Nothing to add to the commentary but isn't it funny that Bush's bold, thinking-outside-the box-choice was a 50-year old white guy?

He'll be approved with minimal fuss, if the Rove-hungry Dems are smart. Oh, and I love this picture. Man, have I been there, except for the President nominating me on TV and all.

London

It's been more than one week since the wave of bombings in London. I saw the reports on TV while dressing for work that morning and I immediately hoped that no one in the London office was hurt. When I made it into the office, the quiet and stillness was like a brick wall. Right, I thought, this could be very bad. I opened my e-mail and saw a message from the HR director in our London headquarters stating not to panic and all Incisive Media staffers were safe and accounted for. I then tried to call my co-worker, who was out that day but the lines were down. It was like the first week when I started at RiskWaters after 9/11: the sad blanket that covered us all. Thankfully, my reporter was safe and sound.

News reports now say that the bombers were not only suicides but were British-born. London is now the first European city to be the victim of suicide bombers. We can only hope that this does not become a trend there, here or anywhere else.

No Drama Queens

The press and the Libs want to get Karl Rove so bad that they are starting to get sloppy. Recently, NY Senator Chuck Schumer held a press conference attacking Rove and the White House for the leaking of Valerie Plame's name to the press. So far, so goo. The Dems are keeping the message clear and uncluttered. In other words, no John Kerry droning. But then Joe Wilson, Plame's blow-dried husband, took the podium to demand Rove's resignation. Uh boy. I hate this guy and Tucker Carlson nailed it when he called Wilson a drama queen.

If the Dems want to fail -- like they always seem to want to do -- they will keep Wilson on-camera yammering away about himself and his wife. Remember: This is not about them, although it kinda is. This is about the leaking on a CIA agent's identity for political payback. Keep the self-aggrandizing Wilson away from the cameras because he elicits no sympathy and wins no friends in the undecided column. He loves his victimhood too much to make things easy for the Dems.

Mickey Kaus, my favorite skeptic, asks one important question: Is Wilson partly to blame for his wife's outing? If you're married to a spook, should you accept an assignment to go to Africa and then blab about it in a New York Times Op Ed piece? The sooner the Dems realize that Wilson is a D lsit celebutante -- his memior is 528 pages long! -- and keep their message simple, the better.

Rove revealed the name of a secret agent -- YES!
Rove revealed the name of a CIA agent who was married to that whiny guy who loves to have his picture taken in Vanity Fair and goes on The Daily Show and Meet the Press and ...

Judith Miller in Chained Heat

This is a rude question to ask but is Judith Miller an ass? The reporter for the New York Times is going to jail - Jail! The big house. The stony lonesome -- to protect a source that she never called and never wrote about! It's pretty clear that the source is a member of the Bush White House -- my guess is Scooter Libby, the chief of staff for the vice president -- and this person tried to kill two birds with one stone: Take down whiny diplomatic asswipe Joe Wilson and someone from the media elite. And after all the heavy-lifting she did for the WMDs-littering-Iraq stories she wrote before the war.

Judy, Judy, Judy: liberal reporters hate you and conservatives all know you were set up. Speak, already!

If that weren't enough, "secret" agent Valerie Plame looks none-the-worse-for wear in the pages of Vanity Fair and at a recent book signing in Georgetown. I hope Plame and Wilson's smiles warm you during shower time.