Jackie Evancho was the most-searched person on Google this morning. Who? This 10-year-old Pittsburgh, PA native stunned the audience and floored judges on NBC’s America’s Got Talent TV show last night. She got two standing ovations. She’s being called “the next Susan Boyle.” The Wall Street Journal called her “a tiny angel with a mature voice.”

An unsigned artist, her self-produced debut album, Prelude to a Dream, was released in November 2009. It’s climbing Amazon’s bestsellers list today, and is Number 2 on iTunes Classical Bestseller’s list. Her YouTube channel has topped 1.5 million views. Her website crashed today due to traffic.

Watch her audition video and her performance last night. She sang “O Mio Babbino Caro” from Puccini’s 1918 opera “Gianni Schicci.” Although the song has been covered by stars such as Sarah Brightman, Evancho’s version left the judges almost speechless.

Judge Sharon Osbourne was almost at a loss for words, commenting: “I’ve never seen anything like that.” Howie Mandel summed it all up, saying: “This is [your] moment, and you are the star.”

She may be a little girl, but there’s nothing little or girlish about the mature operatic voice that leaps out of the young soprano, who began singing at age 8, when she was inspired by a family trip to see the movie Phantom of the Opera. She’s booked to play Carnegie Hall on December 2nd and will become the youngest female vocal soloist ever to perform there.

Evancho was brought to tears last night, when she and her family were awarded a trip to Universal Studios in Orlando, which Jackie won for receiving the most votes in the YouTube audition. One of four children born to Michael and Lisa Evancho, the singing sensation entered a local talent contest after her mother heard her singing Phantom songs. That led to other talents, her own YouTube channel, and the rest was history.

Read about the recent less-than-stellar performance of Lindsay Lohan.

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

A giant panda “baby boom” is underway in China for the endangered species, with two sets of twins arriving: one set in late July and the other set this past week. First-time mother Shuixiu — or Ju Xiao — gave birth to twins in late July at the China Conservation and Research Center for the Giant Panda in the Sichuan province of southwest China. Here, she gently carries one of the panda twins.

This cub’s weight and gender were unknown when the images were taken, as giant pandas are fiercely protect of newborns, and Ju Xiao wouldn’t let staff near the baby. As is often the case with pandas, Ju Xiao abandoned the second cub, which was taken to a panda nursery. Below, the baby panda bear takes its first breaths. These twins were among seven born recently at the China Conservation and Research Center in Wolong.

Meanwhile, on Friday, twin baby pandas were also born on Friday afternoon to a panda named Qizhen, in Chengdu, which is the capital of the Sichuan province in southwest China.

Giant pandas are among the world’s most endangered species. Only 1,590 pandas live in the wild, mostly in the mountains of Sichuan, with 210 more in captivity. No one seems to know the cause of the giant panda “baby boom.”

Read about the populary of dyed dogs in China.

Photo credit: Reuters and www.news.cn

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

Yes, you read that right. You can make money off of the misery of others global warming. Entrepreneur Julien Caquineau is busy bottling melted glacial water in Greenland and selling it at the equivalent of $52 USD per 750 ml bottle (approximately 25 ounces). Iluliaq Original Water comes in a designer glass bottle with a glass stopper, and is said to be absolutely pure. (There are designer water bottles?) A Dubai-based company has agreed to buy 30,000 bottles of the luxury liquid, and there is reportedly interest from the United States, Japan and Singapore.

According to the company website, the water “last fell as snow 200 thousand years ago,” and no mechanical means are used to collect it. “The concept is quality. Everything is made by hand,” Caquineau told Siku News. “The water has no taste. It is so clean that when you drink it fresh, you cannot taste anything.”

We’d show you a picture of the bottled water, but this gets into Iluliaq’s badly flawed marketing plan. Every business hoping to attract new clients needs a website as part of their business plan. (People just don’t search the Yellow Pages® anymore. Seriously, do you know where your copy of the Yellow Pages® is? We don’t.) Iluliaq’s website is done in Flash. Unfortunately for Caquineau, Google and other search engines don’t see…Flash. Therefore, the website has a Google page rank of…zero. (Read Apple founder Steve Jobs’ interesting article to the effect that Flash is dead.) The Flash error at Iluliaq is compounded by placing all content in frames. Google also doesn’t see material in…frames. If you’re going to take a look, have a magnifying glass handy — the text is tiny and the background is black. Black, in the minds of newcomers who want a website, is elegant and trendy. Photographers are especially fond of black. They seem to think it adds “drama” to a website. No, black is dark and depressing and makes the page look boxed in. White opens the page up and makes it look larger and cleaner.

For a real eye opener, visit the inimitable Vince Flanders and his Web Pages That Suck website. For example, see his Ugliest / Worst Business Web Sites of 2009. In other words, as Flanders puts it: “Learn good web design by looking at bad web design.”

Okay, so we are drifting somewhat from the original topic: $52 “luxury” water. The Iluliaq name comes from the Greenlandic kalaalissut language and means “giant’s iceberg.” There, back on topic.

Visit our portfolio to see examples of WordPress small business installs which actually get found and make clients money.

Photo credit: ecochamber.com and Matt Yohe

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

Want to get noticed? Try this. We’re not sure if these are hair extensions, a dread perm or Mother Nature at work, but Damian Marley, son of famed Rastafarian and reggae musician Bob Marley, has the longest dreadlocks we’ve ever seen. Is it possible to grow dreads this long by age 32? “Junior Gong,” as he’s known, is shown here in London on Tuesday. How does one sit down gracefully without pulling out hair? Sleeping? That must be a challenge. Driving? Could the hair become entangled in brakes and gear shifts? Who knows? All sorts of difficulties spring to mind. It seems like it would feel so liberating to go snip, snip, snip.

Damian is the youngest son of world music pioneer Bob Marley. One of 13 siblings, he was two when “Tuff Gong,” as Bob Marley was also known, died at age 36 from melanoma.

Read about eye jewelry. It’s just as weird.

Photo credit: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

Actress Lindsay Lohan’s latest mug shot spread virally across the Internet yesterday, following her 90-day jail sentence for probation violation — She failed to attend alcohol education classes in a timely manner, as ordered by Judge Marsha Revel in Los Angeles, California. Judges don’t like it when defendants don’t do as they’re told. It probably didn’t help any that, at her July 6 probation revocation hearing, Lindsay’s middle fingernails were painted with the letters “FU.” Her tweets after the hearing, saying that she was NOT going to jail, and in which she called the judge “an f’ing bitch” doomed her far-fetched plan for an appeal to failure. You’re 24 and you haven’t figured out yet that judges don’t like to be crossed? C’mon.

It’s sometimes hard to keep LiLo’s legal difficulties sorted out: The current substance abuse saga really began in 2007, when she was arrested twice for DUI within five days. That takes work. At any rate, to her credit, she did serve 84 minutes in jail in November 2007. This time, the L.A. Sheriff’s Department says that Lindsay will serve about 23 days of her 90-day sentence (jail overcrowding plus time off for good behavior). Lindsay’s now a guest at the Lynwood Correctional Facility in L.A. She’ll still get her Adderall and Ambien (doctor prescribed), but the lifelong asthmatic, who smokes two packs a day, is out of luck on the smokes.

Here’s a Photoshopped image of Judge Revel seen today. After Lindsay’s done with her jail stint, Judge Revel has ordered her into a 90-day rehab program. (Read about Lindsay’s three trips to rehab in 2007.

This all reminds me of a woman named Linda, whom I met several years ago. Linda liked cocaine. Eventually, she was sentenced to two years in the LaRue County Jail for drug-related offenses. At the time, she begged and pleaded with the Judge to let her attend rehab somewhere. The Judge responded: “We have a fine treatment program right here in LaRue County. It’s called the LaRue County Jail.” Linda said it was the best thing that ever happened to her. Lindsay should be so lucky.

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

Note from Pajamadeen: We’d like to introduce Stewart Savage to you. Stewart Savage is the pen name of a published writer, single, 58, and living in Reno, NV. This is his first post here, so be nice to him, smiles. Welcome, Stewart!

I met Bob in 1968. I had started my junior year in college, and he moved onto my floor in the dorm. He was a freshman. We hit it off immediately. He was brilliant. He was funny. And as I found out later, he was gay. That did not bother me. I can only remember once in my childhood someone talking to me in grade school about “queers.” I cannot even remember what he said, but it was probably a joke. I did not laugh. I was raised in what many would call a racist environment, and I learned later that racism and homophobia have the same roots. If you are not like everybody else in a given environment, you are in trouble. I decided when I was a senior in high school that I would put that behind me and treat everyone as an individual. I always tried to treat everyone as I would like to be treated. I never asked any acquaintances if they were gay, but I learned that more than a few of the people that I have known were. It never bothered me. All of them were intelligent, wonderful people. I have often wondered why gayness is so often associated with intelligence and talent. Bob exemplified both.

Bob and I became fast friends. He was so funny, and he enjoyed laughing so much. Like me, he saw humor in everything. Once, we were with a bunch of friends and one was backing out of a parking place on a dark and snowy night. Suddenly, we heard a loud crunch. The driver expressed alarm about the sound but kept backing out. Suddenly, one of the passengers looked out the window and said with feigned shock, “My god, a small child!” Bob and I roared, but the driver got a little angry because he was hoping that the crunch was not just that. Bob and I knew better, and we enjoyed laughing, even at ourselves.

Bob decorated his dorm room with a lot of psychedelic posters and stickers. We did a lot of things that we should not have done in that room, but it was okay. It was Bob’s room, after all. One night, we were all in Bob’s room, listening to some of the great music that Bob had in his collection, on his great stereo. He was talking with a mutual friend at one end of the room, and I was alone at the other end. The room was dark as always, with the usual psychedelic lights. I was feeling alone, and I missed Bob. I lay there and silently asked him to leave his friend and come to me. I wanted Bob. I needed Bob. I knew that he was gay and, had he come that night, I think we may have come together. Was it meant to be? I’ll never know. I did not say anything, since he was with a mutual friend, and I did not feel right about butting in. That was too selfish. I kept my mouth shut, so I’ll never know.

In 1971, I moved to Chicago briefly, but I moved back to my college town. I immediately looked up Bob. In fact, he was the first person I looked up when I got back. The guys in the dorm called him “Mom.” I do not think that Bob was actively gay back then, but he made it known that he was gay. I am sure that many thought he was kidding, but everyone accepted it. I never saw any negative reactions. I cannot remember just when, but Bob and I got an apartment together. It was after I had graduated and bummed around for a couple of years, but when I found a job and started to straighten out my life, he was the first person I thought of to room with. We shared two apartments, so I think that we were roommates for two years.

Bob started to come out then, but I never saw him with a boyfriend. I think he was just looking for a way to be more open about it. I always thought that Bob was attracted to me. He never made any overt moves, but he hinted at it more than once. I did not respond. Later, I got a girlfriend, and I think that came between us. She was a ditz, and we broke up after a few months. I am straight, you know, but I did occasionally think about a relationship with Bob, especially after that breakup, but I couldn’t talk myself into it, so I let it go.

I noticed a change in Bob’s attitude toward me about that time. He did like me a lot, and maybe even loved me, but I think he was angry because I had let her come between us. In our second apartment, I also insisted on taking the larger bedroom, the one with the outside door. He wanted it bad. I wanted it so I could sneak girls in, and he wanted it so he could start coming out. Once, when I left a note on the back bedroom door because she and I were in bed (almost all we ever did!), he moved his stereo into his bedroom, and we started separating. We remained friends, but we did not hang out together.

I was working as a theater manager, and I hired Bob as a janitor. He was good, but he found out the storeroom key and the office key were the same, and he started stealing candy. I changed the lock. I could have, and I am sure that many would say that I should have, fired him, but I could not do it. I am not sure that I would not have done the same thing with him, and he knew that I knew about what he had done. That was enough punishment for me. After a few months, he decided to move to Chicago to pursue his goal of being an actor. He left and I did not see him for ten years, although I did call him occasionally.

In 1984, I moved to Chicago, too, and I looked Bob up after a few weeks. I went to see him in a play he was in. I went to see the play twice. We went out to dinner. I visited him in his apartment. We laughed. We shared. We had grown apart, but the friendship was still there. We did not speak that often. I would call him every couple of months, and we got together a few times. I thought about Bob often. I should have realized what that was telling me, but I refused to see it. Before the first time that I was going to see him in the play, I got dressed and looked at myself in the mirror. I told myself that if Bob said anything or made any moves on me, I would accept them and Bob and I would finally be together. Finally. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I was starting to wonder. He didn’t, and I didn’t, and that was that. I saw the play; we had dinner, talked and laughed, went to his apartment, and I went home. I was as alone when we parted as I was when I left to see him.

I believe it was in August, 1987 that I was talking to him on the phone, and he told me that he had been “diagnosed.” That meant that he was HIV-positive. I had heard that he had pneumonia, and that scared me. I knew about Pneumocystis carinii. It turned out that Bob had that. He told me then or later that he had a catheter in his chest, and he took his meds for pneumonia that way. He could not take AZT, the only drug they had for AIDS back then, because it conflicted with his pneumonia drug. I told him then how sorry I was that he was ill. We talked a little more, and he told me he had to get off the phone. I am sure that Bob knew that I was struggling to find words to say, so he spared me the trouble.

I talked to Bob occasionally after that. I called him once, and he was so ill that he bowed out of the conversation. He did not like to talk when he was ill. I went to the restaurant where he worked. He had worked as a waiter there, but they took him off the floor when he was sick, and put him in the office. A woman there told me that he was not doing well. I knew that he was losing his vision, and I could only imagine what else he was going through. I realized, too, that Bob had already been infected with HIV when I went to see him in that play, and that I would probably have been infected with HIV, too, if we had come together that night. I was too concerned about him to be relieved about that, though.

In early December, 1988, I called Bob, and he sounded great. He told me that he has just had his blood “washed.” They had given him a complete transfusion. His voice still sounded a bit scratchy, but I figured that was because of lesions in his throat. Otherwise, he sounded like himself again. He told me that he was going to Florida for Christmas with his sister. They had everything ready for him, and he was eager to go. I was happy for him, and I even thought there might be a glimmer of hope. As Christmas approached, I started wondering if he had gone to Florida. On December 22, I called him. He answered the phone. He had not gone. He was sick. Whatever benefits he got from the blood wash were gone. He was really sick.

When I heard Bob’s voice, and I knew that he was sick, I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to spill my guts. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how sorry I was that he was sick, and how sorry I was for the times I had hurt him. I was certain that there were several times. He had cooked for me, cleaned for me, washed my clothes, loaned me money, helped me. I wanted to tell him how much I owed him for all of that. And I wanted to tell him more. Bob was gay. Bob had never made any overt moves toward me. I am not sure how I would have reacted if he had. There were a couple of times when I was attracted to him. Hell, I even had what I am sure some would consider gay feelings — even before I knew what they were — when I was a freshman, toward another guy. I did not act on them. I was straight, you know. But I wanted to tell all of this to Bob. I just wanted to open up to him. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was that I could not, would not be what he wanted me to be. I wanted to tell him how I had regrets about that, and I did. He was dying. It was too late for anything to start between us, but I wanted him to know. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.

Instead, I panicked and hung up.

I shall carry that call with me to my grave. I have often wondered why I never told Bob how I felt about him. Was it because he was gay? Probably. I am sure that I was afraid that he would do what I wanted to do in that last phone call. And then what? A couple of months later, I called Bob again. An Hispanic man answered the phone. That was when I knew that Bob had died. It was 1989. I did not attend his funeral. I do not know where he is buried. I have never visited his grave, and I even threw away his picture during a move.

It’s funny. When my sister was little, my mother was starting to teach her to write. She started using her left hand. Everyone in our family was right-handed, of course, so my mother insisted that my sister use her right hand. Her penmanship was always terrible, and she can now write with either hand. I am sure that she was left-handed. Is this how we become straight or gay, too? I think it may have a lot to do with being straight.

Gay people I have known have always told me that they were always gay, always “different,” and that tends to fly in the face of everything we learn — like about being gay. I was raised straight, but I have always wondered. At one job, I knew a guy who had been married for 24 years and then went gay. In fact, he went what is commonly called “flaming.” Go figure. Is it possible to realize that you may have been raised wrong, that what you really are is not what you have always been told you should be?

I do not deny my straightness, but I did have feelings for Bob. I have wondered what might have happened if I had acted on those feelings, or if Bob had read my mind and come to me. Would things be different? Would Bob still be alive now? I do not know. I only know that I miss him; I think about him often; and I regret being a coward in that last phone call, and in the years that we were friends.

If you feel something for someone, tell them, even if they are gay. Maybe I should say especially if they are gay. When you say you love them, it will be like saying it to a good friend. When they reply that they love you, they will mean it, real meaningful, physical love. Don’t be afraid. You could actually benefit from considering that kind of love. I could have returned Bob’s physical love on more than one occasion. Part of me wishes I had. A big part of me wishes that I had. Another part of me wonders why I couldn’t. You will find out a lot about yourself when you speak that love and hear the reply. In fact, you may find out a lot more about yourself than you will about them, and you will never have any regrets. Believe me, I learned that the hard way.

I loved Bob. I still do and always will. If life after death is real, Bob will be the first person I seek. I can finally admit how sorry I am that I did not tell him of that love when he was alive. I shall carry the regret for that to my grave, as well.

Pajamadeen note: We tried to find a picture of Bob for the story. But his father has died, his mother has since remarried, and we don’t know where his sister is. If you recognize Stewart and can supply him with a picture of Bob, contact pajamadeen.com. Thanks!

Read about how His Purpleness, Prince, angered gays.

Photo credit: jimfrazier.com

Copyright © 2010 pajamadeen.com

Two Belgian draft horses bedecked in red Christmas bows pulled a traditional horse-drawn carriage up Pennsylvania Ave. today in Washington, DC, stopping at the North Portico of the White House to deliver an 18-1/2 foot Douglas fir which will be used as the White House Christmas tree. First Lady Michelle Obama and daughters Malia and Sasha were on hand to receive the 12-foot wide tree, which will be decorated by thousands of volunteers and used as the personal Christmas tree of President Obama and his family. It will be displayed in the oval-shaped Blue Room on the State Floor, where tourists and White House party-goers can admire it.

Growers Eric and Gloria Sundback, college sweethearts who are now in their 80s and who have been Christmas tree farmers since 1956, personally presented the tree to Mrs. Obama and her children. The Douglas fir was planted at their Shepherdstown, WV farm in 1996. More than a dozen smaller trees from their farm will decorate other White House rooms, including the Oval Office. This is the fourth time that a Sundback-grown tree has been chosen as the White House Christmas tree. Since 1966, the winner of the National Christmas Tree Association’s annual contest has a tree selected from their farm for the White House. The Sundbecks won the contest twice during the Reagan administration and once during Jimmy Carter’s presidency. Mr. Sundback told CNN: “What we really like this year is that it’s going to the family.”

President Benjamin Harrison first put a Christmas tree in the White House in 1889, but it was not until 1961 that first lady Jacqueline Kennedy moved the official tree to the Blue Room, so that the public could enjoy it. The National Christmas Tree, a living Colorado blue spruce located south of the White House on the Ellipse, will be lit by the Obamas next Thursday.

Read about Canada’s peremptory strike, in which the country declared that Santa Claus is a Canadian citizen.

Photo credit: Jason Reed / Reuters and Jim Young / Reuters

Copyright © 2009 pajamadeen.com

At a Columbus, OH book signing last week where she appeared to promote her best-selling Going Rogue: An American Life book, Sarah Palin told Canadian comic Mary Walsh that “Canada needs to dismantle its public health-care system and allow private enterprise to get involved and turn a profit.” In her role as Marg Delahunty for her This Hour Has 22 Minutes TV show, Walsh initially had remarked: “We’re from Canada, and we’re just looking for a few words of encouragement for the Canadian conservatives who have worked so tirelessly to destroy the socialized medicare that we have.”

As Walsh was escorted out of Borders bookstore by four bodyguards, she says Palin remarked: “…keep the faith (something like that), and said we’re all trying for the same thing.” Walsh waited for Palin at the loading dock area where Palin’s bus was parked. When Palin approached, Walsh said: “Hey, remember us, we’re the Canadians! We came all the way here from Canada!…When we asked you that question, we didn’t hear your answer.” Palin then commented on her idea that Canadian public health care should be dismantled and privatized.

The cost of Palin’s tome has plummeted, from an initial price of about $29.00 to $14.50 on Amazon at present. Last week, it was offered on Hannity’s faux news show for about $5.00. A much more interesting read is Going Rogue: The Sarah Palin Rogue Coloring & Activity Book book by satirist Micheal Stinson and political cartoonist Julie Sigwart, at $8.64.

Political humorist Daniel Kurtzman calls Palin’s book Going Rogue: An American Laughingstock. TV host David Letterman has had some fun, commenting that “People in Alaska are looking forward to Sarah Palin’s memoir. They’re already calling it ‘The Book to Nowhere.’ ”

Letterman also aired Top Ten Sarah Palin Tips For Writing A Book. They are:

10. Close curtains so you don’t get distracted by Russia.
9. Increase vocabulary — use words like “slanket.”
8. First buy yourself 100-grand worth of writing outfits.
7. Don’t write a word until the check clears.
6. Limit yourself to one “you betcha” per chapter.
5. You can never have enough stories about ice fishing or killing things with your bare hands.
4. When in doubt, just type (wink).
3. Don’t let writing cut into attending “Fire Letterman” rallies.
2. Have a book translated for sale to European countries like London.
1. I’ll try to find ya some tips and I’ll bring ’em to ya!

If you can stand it, read more Palin political news.

Photo credit: Julie Sigwart

Copyright © 2009 pajamadeen.com

Happy Thanksgiving from a turn-of-the-century c. 1907-1915 Uncle Sam! Our readers know of our penchant for unusual vintage postcards, and this one is a winner with its patriotic red, white and blue motif, combined with Uncle Sam ready for the kick-off, football in hand. The artist signed antique post card (Percy, last name illegible) says “World’s 20th Century Champion.” Sports and imperialism are an unusual combination, but here you have it.

So finish up the turkey and enjoy the big day’s triple header: the NFL’s Green Bay Packers meet the Detroit Lions on the Lions’ home turf; the Oakland Raiders travel to Dallas to take on the Dallas Cowboys in the Raiders’ first Thanksgiving game since 1970; and the first turkey day game in Denver since 1963 is on TV tonight, as the Denver Broncos host the New York Giants.

See last Thanksgiving’s black Americana Thanksgiving postcard, or browse lots more holiday eye candy at VintagePostcards.org.

Copyright © 2009 pajamadeen.com

No, not with a bill, or in a pothole or in a traffic jam. I’ve found the Holy Grail an H1N1 flu shot. It took seven weeks. As someone who’s had bronchitis since age 12 and who’s had pneumonia several times, I don’t mess around with respiratory illnesses. I thought both the seasonal flu shot and the H1N1 shot might be hard to find this year. But when I set out on October 1 to get a seasonal flu shot at an Elizabethtown, KY clinic, signs were up everywhere offering the flu shot. One was at a pharmacy here in Tiny Town. Another digital sign at a bank flashed the news that a flu clinic was being held just down the road, at the agricultural extension office. I went there and found only one person in line ahead of me. Bonus! A nurse named Julie Percefull — someone I particularly admire — was giving the shots. So, thanks to Julie and the LaRue County Health Department, and $23.00 later, I had my shot.

I had a surprise when I reached Elizabethtown to go grocery shopping. (Mostly, I try to shop Tiny Town. But the two grocery stores…Think 30 years ago. Anything remotely unusual is not to be had. Want fresh spinach? Out of luck. Tofu? What’s that? Balsamic vinegar? Never heard of it. Never mind our adventures with wasabi and walnut oil. How come we can have cutting-edge digital signs in Tiny Town but not fresh spinach?) Seasonal flu shot shortage? More signs than I’d ever seen offering flu shots were plastered everywhere — at Walgreen’s. At more banks. At Kroger’s. At Wal-Mart. No shortage here.

Things were different when it came to H1N1, though. There’s one doctor’s office in LaRue County. Yes, that’s right — one. I called there twice, learning that they were getting very small batches of the H1N1 vaccine and that, basically, the Lincoln Trail District Health Department was telling them who could — and could not — receive the shot when it comes to at-risk populations. I was put on their waiting list and continued my search. Google maps, in coordination with the Department of Health and Human Services, has created a flu shot finder. Type in an address and (theoretically) the map will find a location that has H1N1 or seasonal flu shots available. One promising listing a couple of weeks ago was for a mass inoculation drive-through clinic at Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium at the University of Louisville, on a Wednesday and a Thursday. Wednesday was chaos: Some people waited in line up to 13 hours. It was anticipated that all the vaccine would be gone by 1 PM on Thursday. A 13-hour wait sounded…intimidating.

As late as today, typing in Hodgenville, KY in the Google flu shot finder produces this result: “No flu shots found near Hodgenville, Kentucky.” You can find supplementary results at the Kentucky Cabinet for Health and Family Services. Google’s flu shot map does indicate that the Lake Cumberland District Health Department offices in Greensburg and Campbellsville will be giving H1N1 vaccinations from 5 PM to 8 PM starting on December 3.

While I have some risk factors, I also need to visit my elderly mother in a nursing home out-of-state and in a heavily populated metropolitan area. As much as I don’t want to give the frail residents the flu, I also don’t want to contract it from them. Finally, I prevailed at the LaRue County Health Department and got the shot last Friday. I’m laying low, in hopes of not contracting anything before eight days elapse and I’m immunized against H1N1. It looks like I’ll get to see my mother before Christmas after all. And that’s something to be grateful for, this Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Read about Gene Simmons and the rock band KISS, and see if you can figure out what Pajamadeen will be doing later tonight.

Copyright © 2009 pajamadeen.com