A huge shout out to my friend the insomniac, Artsykelly whom lives up to her screen name with this divine design she created for me.

How much do I love her? Let me count the ways...

*~*

You know what else I love? I love a good feud. When Jerry kicked Janis off the tour because she was getting Pigpen too junked up and drunk to play, I loved that story.

Courtney vs. Madonna. Courtney vs. Rose McGowan. Courtney vs. Trent Reznor. Courtney vs. the World. I love Courtney. She can appreciate the humor in a good 'ole rock feud and just get in there.

Sharon Osborne. Jesse Ventura vs. the media. Bette Davis. Joan Crawford. Newt Gingrich. Puck. Irene vs. David. Real World vs. Road Rules. Stephen Jenkins vs. Rob Thomas.

I love it all. Particularly, when it doesn't involve the Partygirl and I can just sit back and watch the barbs fly.

And that is why, I took particular delight today, in author Dave Egger's scathing attack on New York Times reporter David Kirkpatrick.

Even if you haven't heard of either of the two. Even if you have't read A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (which truly is a work of genius)...you've got to love, the absolutely juvenile nature of this feud.

It's ridiculous. I read the review in question. And while perhaps not accurate as Eggers alledges, I don't feel it's the malicious, heartless piece that Eggers claims.

On the other hand, Kirkpatrick weedled his way into this interview - applying the pressure and sweet talking his subject. So did he, as he claims, verify "off the record information" and give Eggers ample opportunity to review the piece prior to print, as he promised?

Is Eggers' editor, pulling the old, "run with the story and beg for forgiveness later?"

Who knows. Who cares? I just love the scandal. Check it out. It really is brilliant.

*~*

And speaking of scandal...

If you got an e-mail from me this Sunday during the hours of 5:00am and 8:30am, please delete it. Same with guestbook entries.

I was out of my mind. Let's just pretend that never happened.

We'll just chalk that up to a little vicarious Mardi Gras action.

Viva la Fucked Up.

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