Anagrams as so much fun. Especially when you use them to describe idiots. Some of you may be scratching your heads whenever you come across an article of mine that makes reference to Rectal Noun. Well, let me clear it up for you: Rectal Noun is my anagrammatic way of avoiding using the name A*n*n C*o*u*l*t*e*r in my articles as I try to get away with referring to the monster that ate decency without having Adsense place ads for the diarrhea that she passes off as books pop up on my articles. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. By the way, another good one for the Skeleton that puked shame is Unclean Rot. Or, if you prefer to add a little Germanic flavoring to your description, you might consider Oral Cunten.

If you wish to avoid having Google Adsense undermine your articles that take Al Franken’s Big Fat Idiot to task you might consider these: Hamburg Lush I; Bush Rim Laugh, A Bush Girl Hum. But let’s say you just don’t want to poison your articles by actually mentioning the name of the only sitting Vice President to shoot a man in the face. (Fact: Dick Cheney shot a man in the face and never reported to the police. Fact!) If you prefer to get away from having Cheney’s name in print, you could try Chicken Dye. Frankly, I wonder if a shot of Chicken Dye is responsible for that misshapen mouth of the Dark Lord. Another anagram for Dick Cheney that we can only wish we could use in print and make it turn into fact is Dickey Hence. (You know, Dickey Hence! And then he would disappear off the face of the planet, slowly rising into the outer space until his head exploded in an orgy of hatred and unreleased sexual energy.) (Fact: Dick Cheney’s wife gave birth to their only child exactly nine months and two days after LBJ announced that he would be lifting the restriction on drafting married, but childless, men to fight in Vietnam.)

Of course, even Dick Cheney would be preferable to George W. Bush. I know that’s …

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Some of you don’t think that you’re any good at art or have one single creative bone in your body. I say this because whenever I meet someone and we begin “chatting it up”, they mention things like, “I have to decorate for my kids 5th birthday party” or “I always hated my grandmothers mashed potatoes, therefore I used to make mountains and rivers out of them”.” I can’t wait to customize my BMW” and “the kids and I are putting together a scrapbook of all our summer adventures”. Yes these things seem so simple yet my artists ear begins to perk up. I love what I am hearing because I am hearing that artist in you just dying to go out into the world, rampage it and posses it.

Oh yes and let me not forget ” I used to draw and make things when I was young”. Yes and so did the next hundred people we will probably meet in our near future. That doesn’t mean that the little artist in you is banished into the depths of hells fire forever. The little artist shall be reborn and breastfed with creativity and confidence.

To me to create is to live. I believe that we as humans all seem to connect with our “inner artist”. So what is art? Art is doodling on a napkin, playing air drums, a sweet UFC knock out, a touch down dance ,spoken poetry , putting the water proofing on a building, planting a rose bush , making up a song in the shower, matching a bag with a new pair of shoes, or making up a bed time story to quiet the twins. I always tend to look for the creative artist in a person ranging in age 0 to age antique. Much of everything we do in our daily lives requires some form of creativity. Whatever little thing or big thing that you do, you make sure you do it with creative pride. Let others hear you say,” I did this” or ” I created this”.

Man and woman have created so much here …

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I started and completed my newest Lulu book, John Edwards Visits Grinnell College: Documentary Photographs. It is now up on my storefront, waiting to be sold.…

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It’s been a quiet Sunday. I submitted five pieces of artwork via email to Creative Crossroads, a magazine based in Iowa City. I also continued to work on my VCU Portfolio, mainly because I’m becoming increasingly paranoid about getting rejected. A few minutes ago, I burned a copy of my “debut CD” for a new distro called Unicorn Express in California. Hopefully the owner’s interested in my work. If not, I’m waiting $0.58 worth of postage (I got the CD free at work!). Now I have to finish my essay on Toni Morrison’s novel Sula so I can submit it to Associated Content. Getting paid for my writing is, after all, always appreciated…which reminds me, I still have to finish a newspaper article that’s due tomorrow and still manage to prepare for my history mid-term.…

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