I know I'm obsessed with these people and I thought I'd sampled most of the media droppings about them, but I wasn't aware until I read The Sarcastic Journalist yesterday that they have a web site. It includes links to fun facts (Hey! Did you knoiw she's been pregnant fot a total of ten and a half YEARS?) and some insight into their apparently highly satisfactory relationship with God. I just can't get over these people – I have this horrified fascination, like when you see photos for the first time of gigantic slimy sea worms living miles deep in the ocean in boiling water from volcanic vents, or watching a graphic movie about nuclear war. You're awed, you're amazed, you're disgusted but you can't tear your eyes away.
On the bright side, I had a better-than-usual ride into work today. I was playing my iPod through the nifty device Ben got me for my birthday, and the music turned out to be really interesting stuff I blindly downloaded from streaming Internet radio stations using iFill, which came free with the RoadTrip. The best station I've found is DiscoverRadio. I tried kinkFM thinking it was also indie rock, but it turned out to be musicians cursing in Cockney English and DJs grooving out in Dutch. So far I've liked just about everything on DiscoverRadio, such as "Digger" by The Station Myth, "Believer" by Viva Voce, "If She Wants Me" by Belle and Sebastian and "Do the Whirlwind" by Architecture in Helsinki. I have never heard of any of these bands. Yes, I'm 45 and totally out of the loop. But I'm trying, dammit.
The second good thing about my commute this morning was the car in front of me for several miles. It was a bright red Ferrari F355 Spider (convertible top down, though it was 46 degrees) driven by a guy who looked to be in his late 60s, well-trimmed white beard, a big gold ring, and... a vivid multicolored do-rag. Most striking. He might as well have had a neon sign on the back of the car saying SUGAR DADDY. I Googled the car and found that it costs more than $100,000. My musings helped pass the time. What were this guy and this car doing on pothole-ridden Comm Ave in Allston at 8:15 in the morning? What's the guy's story? Can I be his trophy wife? Oh wait, I forgot, I'm married already; I'll have to settle for arm candy. Actually I don't think I want to be in a car that can go 180 mph with a guy who might have a sudden coronary.