Sometimes I am distractively irked. This was the case last night chillin in front of the boob tube.

NOW with Bill Moyers is a regular Friday night catch for me. Topics taken from NPR and made into an hour long interviews and documentary style reports. They unleash some truths about topical events that just won't get play on network or glamdazzle twenty-four hour cable news stations. It's dope and good for keeping the ignorance at bay.

Last night the focus was on global health crises. Germies are running rapshod over the less than sanitary poor world. And while past calamities like polio and smallpox generated worldwide communal concern and were diligently wiped out, the new crop of sick ain't being looked at too much.

More than half the show was dedicated to an interview with Bill Gates about his philanthropic work with global health. Why he became interested, and has dumped billions of dollars into these projects. This isn't what irked me, I even have some modicum of praise for his sense of responsibility.

Okay. The interview was done at some medical school, Boston I think, can't really recall, and ain't gonna hurt my brain trying to remember. It was done with an audience of students and people involved with this medical emergency, in the round. Seated spectators encircling the interview duo, and therefore acting as the background.

This annoying bitch was seated directly behind Bill Gates. I know the studio director was popping some blood vessels and shouting something like "stupid cunt won't stay outta frame". Been in a few television studios to know what raises tempers. Extraneous framed idiots are one of them.

First, you could tell she was stupidly concious of being on camera. Whenever the red light atop the closeup Bill Gates camera was on she would all the sudden perk up and employ this constant insipid grin. That in itself could be ignored. What couldn't be ignored was the fact that she decided to nod her head with approval at every other word Gates said, which was blisteringly distracting. As if we, the viewing public, needed hints as to what was important. I wished I was sitting next to her so I could take a two by four across her grill and drag her out of the room by her hair, blood dripping from her mouth.

I know it was bothering the camera crew. They kept trying to move the camera so that she was blocked out by Gates' head or otherwise cut out of frame. She would shift her goddamn body everytime they would do this so her stank face would magically reappear.

Hey, honey. Just cause a camera is pointed your way doesn't make you an integral part of the action. You ain't the focus, or even an ineresting sidebar. Sit the fuck still and let the rich bastard have his interview. Stupid self important buttinski bitch.

Yeah.

Wednesday of the Sixteenth in the month of April: Back to Forest Park for some art action!

Murky days began in St. Louis. The indoorsy style meandering was on point. Decided to fulfill the regular event of Ma and me going to the Art Museum all day, with a midday break at the delightful museum cafe.

Always a special exhibit or two. This time a show of ancient Indian jeweled adorned objects was in effect. Wicked looking swords, heavily decorated, were cool. Some weirdly handled daggers. Kind of looked as if the hilt framed the forearm, and you would grab the dagger as if you were carrying a suitcase. Not sure what fighting style that would invent.

Lots of etched rubies and emeralds. I am not one for covering my body with bling. Don't really see the point of diamonds to be honest. Or gold for that matter. Silver looks cool if done tastefully. But jewelry just ain't my thing. But I do enjoy gazing at colorful gems, like rubies and emeralds. Like minature pyrotechnics petrified in stone. Still wouldn't drape them across my knuckles.

There was a smaller exhibit of wood etchings. Quite a bit of Albrecht Durer. I like his work. Intricate line drawings of wildly imaginative topics. Seems like a precursor to fantasy art and comicbook craziness. Me likey.

Chilled in front of the expansive Waterlillies by Monet. They have a cushy ottoman style seat in front of the painting. I find it soothingly meditative to position myself in the middle of the composition, and casually allow my eyes to travel through it. Keeps me calm for a few minutes.

Finished up the art intake with the upstairs modern art section. I truly enjoy abstract art, and oft times "get" what the artist was trying to accomplish. I don't think understanding it is all that important however. I mean, can't it just be visually stunning without having to represent something physical on the planet? Luckily none of the rabble that likes to scoff and announce that their five year old sprouts could paint that or wrap a bowl in fur was in the way. Those people should just stay at home and bang rocks together.

As we were departing, I choked. Shitty damn and shitty fuck. I left my black Jagermeister ballcap in the restaurant. Slight rerouting back to the museum. Rushed in. With bated breath I asked if they found my hat. A waiter was disappointed and boldly asked "are you sure this hat is yours?". Fucker wanted to score the hat for himself. Gimme it ya maggot. Damn scroungers.