Mark Feigenson

It's official

If I get one more crappy email from Classmates.com, I may just kill myself.

OMG. What's in the freakin' water this week? Why is everyone dying?

The off-road vehicle that's finally off the road.

My dad bought a 1994 Jeep in 1996. It ran cheerfully for 10 full years, despite the fact that it wasn't in great shape when he got it. But between him and his employees, it was truly run into the ground. It ended with somewhere around 250,000 miles on it. That's about the distance to the Moon, and twice the distance any American car is designed to go without being attached to a tow truck. I'm not sure there was even one mile left on this poor thing. And I can't imagine it was good for anything other than scrap metal. And yet, some dealership somewhere took it in trade towards another car! God bless 'em. Of course, over the years, the things that really needed to get fixed got fixed, and the things that really didn't need to get fixed, er, really didn't get fixed. My dad kept a partial list of those things as they piled up. And here they are for your entertainment. For the record, two of the 'items' that don't appear to have made the list are the somehow-permanent layer of crust on the dashboard that was both sticky and dusty at the same time, if that's possible. As well as the deep, dark layer of goop sprouting from every cup holder, which we believe is a unique combination of ashes, coffee, and decomposing toll receipts. What would I have to do to put you in this pre-owned beauty today?

Well, well. Ain't Mark Sanford the luckiest man on the planet.

Don't cry for him, Argentina.

So much for Mark Sanford's run in 2012. Maybe that's what got lost on the Appalachian trail. Jesus, what IS it with these guys?

I like to hold 'em right about here.

The fraudulent election in Iran is news. Ed McMahon's death is news. Another half dozen American soldiers killed is news. Jon and Kate's divorce kind of... isn't. And yet, it's one of the top stories on msnbc. Ahh, but it's all about the clickthrough.

I can't stand American Idol (called Britain's Got Talent in, er, Britain) but I'm gonna bet that when they coined the phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover', they had something like this in mind.

6th trip to Vegas / 2nd mini-trip to California.

WHEN I TELL PEOPLE my brother lives in Las Vegas, they generally get a strange look on their face, as if they can't understand why anyone would want to live next to a casino. For the record, outside of the strip, Las Vegas basically looks like Boca Raton, with Palm trees everywhere and miles of modern highways separating shiny new gated communities with pools and southwestern style terra cotta roofs. Where they live, there are no casinos, no hookers, no neon lights, and no douchebags behaving badly at bachelor parties.

I was there last week for the 6th time. We took a little road trip to Palm Springs, California. It took about 5-6 hours each way in our ergonomically awkward silver minivan. I think it was a Chrysler Mediocre. Nice hotel. Good shopping. Great restaurants. My sister-in-law must have caught a bug and proceeded to line the walkway of our hotel room with not-quite-digested In-and-Out Burger. That's not an endorsement, either, by the way. We had to refill the oil in the car, and we did so simply by wringing out the top bun of one of the burgers. Anyway, I took around 200 pictures, mostly of my tiny niece discovering she actually has hands. Here's a few highlights from the trip.