Perhaps the most euphonious headline ever written, from Radio Australia:

Typhoon Tingting roars through Micronesia

I just want to keep saying it over and over. Typhoon Tingting roars through Micronesia. Typhoon Tingting roars through Micronesia. Typhoon Tingting roars through Micronesia.

[email fragment] I've just taken delivery of a set of 300 or so unused European postcards, collected during the 1970s by an elderly woman from northwest Washington, D.C., and auctioned on ebay for the grand sum of $10. From this point on my location may become unclear.

Radio Australia/Pacific Beat: "Job descriptions for some members of the Regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands may have to be re-written to include "crocodile hunter". Four locals on the main island of Guadalcanal have died recently as a result of crocodile attacks. And it seems the success of RAMSI's gun amnesty may be the reason for the increase in the numbers of man-eating crocodiles. In less than a year, RAMSI has successfully restored law-and-order and confiscated most of the high-powered weapons previously used to kill the crocs." Ah, unintended consequences. And with teeth.

Wonderful resource: bobdylan.com, full searchable lyrics, RealAudio samples of every song -- I'm kind of shocked at how useful the site is, at least for answering my questions, because a) it's corporate; b) it's for an artist who's not, as the Zulus say, of the eGeneration; and c) is famously reclusive, purposely mysterious, etc.

Though now iTunes gives the artist site a run for the money, at least when it comes to title searches and audio (I found a great Mac utility, itunesMSP that will play in order every song sample that shows up in an iTunes music store search, which eliminates much clicking).

Atlantic Monthly on the badness of campaign TV ads.

Writing systems of the world: my are there many of them

My latest Spanish reading is none other than "Naufragios", the conquistador/explorer/what-not Cabeza de Vaca's account of his shipwreck and journey overland from Florida to Mexico City. It was written sometime in the 16th century, but I seem to be understanding enough to at least follow the basic plot.

My other new project is a little herb garden on this second-floor deck we've got. It's kind of inspired by Nelson Mandela, who kept a rooftop garden during his final years in prison. He'd give the guards vegetables to win their favor. My parents weren't too happy at first when I mentioned this comparison ("What does that make us? Prison guards?") but they came around in the end ... anyway so far I've got oregano, rosemary, basil, chives, and two kinds of thyme.

Against my better instincts I watched some of the Miss Universe pageant last week. All the finalists kept making me think of praying mantises -- long and lithe and firm, triangular heads and enormous eyes. Actually, most beauty and bodybuilding contestants strike me as at least vaguely insectile.

In other news, watched Monsoon Wedding this week -- a good 'un.

The German Air Guitar Federation