Every Thanksgiving I spend the day with friends, and enjoy the usual melange of great food, and time spent in good company. I don't have any family in the US, and people in the UK don't celebrate Thanksgiving, and so I've no reason to fly back home for this uniquely American holiday.

I wrote briefly about Thanksgiving, last year, and I still feel that as holidays go, there's a lot to admire about Thanksgiving. The two days off work, nearly make up for getting no public holiday days at Easter, and piss-poor annual leave standards from US employers.

My admiration for the holiday isn't just about the time off and the chance to gorge on turkey. I love Thanksgiving because it's a (relatively) low-pressure holiday, that remains largely unsullied by the rampant commercialism seen at Christmas.

That said, I have been known to enjoy the culinary side of holiday, and have the greatest admiration for that Texan way of cooking an entire turkey in boiling oil, if only for the sheer engineering brilliance involved. I mean, anyone who's prepared to risk life, limb and 80% third-degree burns, standing over a vat of boiling oil and high-out propane burners, just to be able to cook at 20lb turkey in 90 minutes, gets my vote.

If I hadn't had it explained to me, my inclination would be to avoid such a deep-fried delight, for fear my arteries would solidify on contact with it. However, they use peanut oil, which seals the turkey, and doesn't soak into the meat. A bit like the bumblebee or a well-thrown frozen pizza - it's and idea that in theory shouldn't fly, but does.

This year, my Thanksgiving Day will be slightly different again, because I'll be doing a radio show.

Not that I mind. Thanksgiving is all about togetherness and sharing, and being thankful for what you have. It's an ethic that is so sadly lacking for so many people for the other 364 days of the year, that I think we really need to embrace it on Turkey Day. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be a radio broadcaster, and I'll be sharing, and giving thanks for the superb jazz music I get to play.

Whilst I hope there's no-one alone out there on Thanksgiving Day, apart from those who want to be alone, if there's a chance of brightening someone's day by playing just the right tune, then I'm going to go for it. Perhaps some Charlie "Bird" Parker or The Pilgrims?

Despite the fact that I don't need to cook for myself on Thanksgiving, I have nonetheless, managed to acquire a turkey. No, I'm not talking about a copy of Windows ME, I'm talking about large-scale poultry. It was a present from the CEO of my day-job. I guess, when you're the boss, you can give the bird to your workers!

My plan is to cook it on Sunday, so if you're in the Platt Park neighbourhood and hungry, contact DMfM via the secure email form, and book a seat!

I can be a cynical old sod, I know, but there is something about this American holiday which really brings out the optimist in me. It should bring out the optimistic side of you too. If it doesn't, then perhaps you're taking this unique holiday for granted. I guess that's the potential curse of those people who've had Thanksgiving all their lives. We immigrants still find it novel.

There are some people, who dread Thanksgiving, because of a sense of obligation to be with family members to whom, if they met as strangers, they wouldn't even give the time of day.

If that's you, then perhaps you need to re-examine your Thanksgiving schedule for next year. Tell the folks you've got to work, and you'll see them at Christmas for the annual two days of awkwardness and recrimination, and go do something fun with friends. (Hint: if it's skiing, you don't then need to come and tell me about it.)

Wherever you are, whatever you do, you have a great day. Happy Thanksgiving.

I'm not sure if it's natural selection, divine justice, or just a much-needed slap across the face of ignorant racist bigots, but news has reached DMfM of a Ku Klux Klan initiation ceremony that ended up with one member in Intensive Care, and another being arrested.

Apparently, during a KKK initiation ceremony, the initiate - Jeffery Murr - was blindfolded, tied with a noose to a tree and shot with paintball guns as the organiser - Gregory Allen Freeman - fired a pistol in the air to provide the sound of real gunfire.

Now, I know what you're thinking... he fell over thinking was shot (by what were actually paintballs) and hung himself? Wrong. It's even more incredible.

The live bullet, having been fired into the air by Freeman, reached the top of it's trajectory and came back down to Earth, hitting Murr in the top of his head, passing through it, and exiting at the base of his skull. This left Murr in a critical condition, but not dead.

Obviously, although the bullet passed right through the skull of this racisct-wannabe, it missed his brain by several inches. The rumour is that it also didn't harm his Lynrd Skynrd t-shirt, or either of his teeth.

This left DMfM staff wondering just what the odds are of firing a gun almost straight up, into the air, and the bullet hitting exactly the person it's meant to scare.

Whatever the odds, it says a lot about the character of KKK organisers, that Freeman fled the scene, rather than give help to a fellow human in need of emergency treatment, thanks to his idiocy.

Perhaps we should suggest they use a machine gun at the next ceremony, and do us all a favour?

The full story is here and here. Thanks to Tim for the lead.

Lord knows I was glad when the Conservative government in Britain was finally ousted, after 18 hideous years of greed, corruption and the selling off of state assets.

Despite his pandering US President Roscoe P. Coltrane, I still like Tony Blair over any other British leader in the past few decades.

Now I find out that The Poodle is going to appear in The Simpsons. Good for him, for joining in, and doing the voice for his cartoon alter ego. Full story here.

George W. Bush doesn't look likely to be appearing in The Simpsons.

I'm not sure if this is because he might be mistaken for Chief Wiggum, or because you need to be at least two-dimensional to appear in cartoons.

As a jazz radio broadcaster I listen to a lot of jazz music. I buy a lot of jazz CDs. Well, I would if my day job paid more. However, jazz is not the only music I'm into. Dear me no. I grew up in the Eighties, and my first love was synthpop. Heck, I own (and play) a Korg X3 Workstation.

Finally, finally, finally.... I've gotten around to buying a Ladytron CD. I bought their debut album, "604".

I've been hearing them on BBC 6Music for months, and every time I do, think, "They sound worthwhile checking out further" and then promptly do nothing about it.

Ladytron are a British quartet, with a sound so reminiscent of early 80's synthpop, that I'm starting to appreciate how old (real) punks feel, when they here modern-day bands claiming to be punk bands.

The clue here is that your band is not a punk band, if you're wearing $100+ Nike sports shoes. Sorry, but "punk" was about anarchy, rebellion, and not-fitting in. These middle-class American white boys should stop deluding themselves, whilst they're cashing the cheques from Geffen or Sony.

However, unlike ageing punks, I really approve of what the lads and lasses of Ladytron have done with the synthpop sound. They have taken a genre from my formative years, and kicked it up a notch (without help from Emeril), giving it a bright new modern beat, perfectly suited to 21st Century.

Driving bass synth lines and drum machines keep the whole album moving along nicely, whilst swirling lead synths, distorted vocals and odd spoken samples add the sort of depth that keeps you interested in what's coming next.

Some albums are love-at-first-listen, some take a while to get under your skin. 604 is halfway between the two. The Ladytron sound was an instant hit with me, and the actual songs/tracks/whatever, are growing on me.

In any event, I suspect I'm likely to be checking out their later work, because as synth bands go, they push all the right buttons for me.

It's easy to rest on your laurels. It takes no effort to settle for what you have got, and what you have achieved.

I've been thinking for a while, that it's time to raise the bar at DMfM. Whilst I was unemployed, ranting about life's frustrations was a useful vent. It kept my mind busy, and allowed me to take out my frustration at being made redundant, on an unsuspecting world.

However, life has (thankfully) moved on since then. I'm working again, in a job I love, that is a good blend of technology and creative work. I'm learning new skills, and am hungry for more knowledge.

With this in mind, it's time that DMfM moved on too. It's not going to go anywhere, it's not stopping, it's just going (hopefully) to be better.

I'm not saying that if someone really brasses me off big time, I won't pen a tersely-worded memoradum to them, and post it here, but there will be less whining about stuff that, frankly, doesn't really matter.

For a while, I got feedback that rants were a big crowd-pleaser, and so I gave it full reign, however, I don't do this site to get ratings, so to hell with it.

So now there will be (hopefully) more humour, and fewer "dear diary" entries. Blogging is a broad medium these days, and whilst an online diary is fine for some people, I dont' want this site to be that.

I'm also going to do some maintenance on the site, adding useful pages, and improving existing ones, for example, the Image Gallery.

I'm not going to go back and delete bad articles, or censor comments. There are over 500 articles in DMfM, and I just don't have to time to go through them all.

This improvement isn't about looking back, it's about looking forward.

So Why Are You Telling Us This?
I'm telling you this, so that you'll give me feedback, to let me know if things improve. I'm also doing it, so that I have to live up to the promise!

So, stick with me. In time DMfM should become a better read, and should more accurately reflect, that of which I am capable.

I've not gotten to see many episodes of the sit-com, "Eight Simple Rules For Dating My Teenage Daughter", but when I got home from work late this evening, I walked in to find my flatmate watching it. Tired from a long day, I sat down for five minutes.

It turned out to be the episode written, and filmed, after the untimely death of John Ritter.

I can barely imagine how hard it must have been for the cast and crew to carry on with the show after Ritter's death. Not only that, but to have to write and perform an episode where his character in the show unexpectedly dies, must have been agonising. By all accounts the cast and crew of the series were all very close.

Kudos to the cast for their performances, especially the young actors playing the family's children. That must have taken some nerve to give such a touching and meaningful performance.

As someone who lost a parent in my childhood years, I ended up having to leave the room, as it was frankly too upsetting to watch. It's frightening how, after all these years, seeing such a scene acted out on television, brings it all back. It also says something about the quality of the performances in this episode.

Rest In Peace John Ritter.