I give up. The only thing I do around here lately is clean up the mess, and it's just not worth my time anymore.
See you in your comments.
Minor league baseballs teams do some wacky things for promotion nights, and almost anything goes as long as it draws a crowd. Seldom though, does the concession menu enter into the equation.
The Sioux Falls Canaries and Dakota Provisions are teaming up this summer to bring Fowl Balls to concession stands at the Birdcage. The venture makes Sioux Falls Stadium the first sports venue in the country to offer their fans a chance to enjoy turkey testicles.
Yep. Deep fried turkey testicles. Offered with a variety of dipping sauces. The local poultry processor has some 32,000 extra Tom-bits left over at the end of each day, and someone became a marketing legend by convincing folks who should know better that nothing says baseball quite like a piping hot basket of Fowl Balls.
I wouldn't eat the fries at that stadium either.
Don't even mention corn dogs.
Hello all. Got home last Sunday morning (early AM). Been berry berry busy. All work-stuff that was supposed to get done by "backups" didn't. Most did, but still spent a day catching up.
On the home front, our dishwasher went kaput while we were gone. Of course, the kids didn't notice, so an inch of dirty water sat in the bottom and went rancid. Ick. Then Liz's laptop went kaput too. She's out right now, getting it taken care of. Thank heavens for our "stimulus" check.
That was sarcasm, by the way. I refuse to say "thank you" to someone who magnanimously decides to give me back some of my own money.
Arizona was beautiful, we fell in love with the place. The vacation will get it's own separate post, maybe tonight.
Gotta run. Things to do.
Liz and I are headed to Arizona for a week to visit my Dad. We've been busy getting ready for the trip, plus other big happenings that I'll talk about when we get home. I really doubt they have more than an email connection, so you'll probably miss me long time.
We went and saw our first Potomac Nationals game of the season last night. The team (single A minor league) has a lot of familiar names from last year, and they've started off on a hot streak. As for the game, the P-Nats - I *still* hate that nickname - spotted the Kinston Indians seven runs in the first five innings before roaring back to tie it up by the eighth. The P-Nats won it in the bottom of the 11th.
We didn't see that though, because a cold front moved through the area and it got very chilly and windy. We lasted through the 10th, then went to the car, figuring we'd watch the fireworks from the parking lot. Twenty minutes later, another wave of folks started coming out, so we figured they went another scoreless inning and we left. By the time we got home, the P-Nats had won.
I can't even give a report on this year's fireworks show. Someone told us that there was a curfew after which the fireworks couldn't be done, which makes sense, but the time they remembered sounded much too early for a Saturday night. I dunno.
We also did some talking to the stadium management last night about season tickets and reserved seating. They're willing to allow Liz to park her electric scooter someplace convenient (for her) in order to have access to the field-level box seats. I have never seen the staff *not* go out of their way to help someone at the stadium. They are the standard by which I measure other customer service.
Liz also got the scoop on the new stadium. Our county won't chip in on the funding because of current budget shortfalls. Imagine that, a little fiscal responsibility from our elected officials! So the current plan is to sell the naming rights to the new stadium and using that money combined with what the team has already committed to build the new place. It'll be located right behind where first base is now, and be partially dug into the ground, amphitheater style, like the Frederick Keys stadium is. If they sell the rights quickly (the process of looking for a sponsor has begun) or make a bunch of money for it, they may have the stadium ready for next season, but they're realistically planning for a 2010 opening.
So there you have it - first game of the season. As expected, most prices went up a quarter or fifty cents this year. Parking is now four bucks, bleacher seats are eight. Still a bargain.
Who's up for a Saturday blogmeet at the game?
My wife Liz got this in her email.
Two California Highway Patrol Officers were conducting speeding enforcement on I-15, just north of the Marine Corps Air Station at Miramar. One of the officers was using a hand held radar device to check speeding vehicles approaching the crest of a hill.The officers were suddenly surprised when the radar gun began reading 300 miles per hour. The officer attempted to reset the radar gun, but it would not reset and then turned off.
Just then a deafening roar over the treetops revealed that the radar had in fact locked on to a USMC F/A-18 Hornet which was engaged in a low flying exercise near the location.
Back at the CHP Headquarters the Patrol Captain fired off a complaint to the USMC Base Commander. The reply came back in true USMC style:
Thank you for your letter. We can now complete the file on this incident.You may be interested to know that the tactical computer in the Hornet had detected the presence of, and subsequently locked on to, your hostile radar equipment and automatically sent a jamming signal back to it, which is why it shut down.
Furthermore, an Air-to-Ground missile aboard the fully armed aircraft had also automatically locked on to your equipment location.
Fortunately, the Marine Pilot flying the Hornet recognized the situation for what it was, quickly responded to the missile system alert status and was able to override the automated defense system before the missile was launched to destroy the host ile radar position.
The pilot also suggests you cover your mouths when cussing at them, since the video systems on these jets are very high tech. Sergeant Johnson, the officer holding the radar gun, should get his dentist to check his left rear molar. It appears the filling is loose. Also, the snap is broken on his holster.
Thank you for your concern. Semper Fi.
Undoubtedly pure BS, but still funny.
One of our "goals" we decided this past winter was to simplify and get rid of the vast amounts of crap we've accumulated over the years. To this end I've gone through about a quarter of the basement, hauling up various crates o' stuff for Liz to go through and decide whether or not it can be tossed. We've given the garbage guys a real workout some weeks.
Tomorrow is bulk trash pickup day. Instead of loading big crap into the truck and hauling it to the dump, they come to us. All you need to do is to haul it to the curb and it's gone. I spent a couple of hours going through the backyard, being ruthless about what was to be kept. When my son got home from work, we hauled it all out front, including an old couch. That wreck of a piece of furniture should've gone out long ago, but I didn't want to leave it out in the weather all winter. Tomorrow, finally, it's buh-bye.
The weather is gorgeous right now, so I started the front yardwork. I'll finish that up tomorrow morning, and lay out the plan for the new front flower bed. Right now, it's a simple rectangle running along the front picket fence, lined with brick. What I want to do is sweep a curve out to run about halfway up the side fence. We'd have about 1/4 less grass but a much larger area for flowers. I've got the bricks already, so it's a matter of getting the mortar, doing some digging and getting things planted. It won't happen tomorrow but I can at least lay it out and see what it'll look like in reality and not just in my head.
Last year's work on the side "perennial" flower bed is looking good too. Things are coming up green and fast, and it looks like even the couple of annuals we had planted as filler have re-seeded themselves.
One funny thing is that we only had two daffodils come up this spring. I know for a fact that we should have seen forty or more, but instead there are only two, and they're scrawny little things that didn't even bud. I finally remembered that I'd dug up all the bulbs last year and was supposed to replant, but forgot. Not that it mattered, because I couldn't find the damn things. I was certain that I'd bagged them up into a brown paper bag and tossed them in the coolness under the basement steps, because that's what you do. You're also supposed to toss them in the freezer for a week before planting to simulate winter, but damned if I could find them again.
I now recall that I had thrown all the bulbs into an enormous planter last summer, covered them with dirt to protect them and dragged it into the backyard. Now, in the middle of my trashy looking backyard, there's a gorgeous display of daffodils just bursting out of this planter. Hopefully this fall I'll remember to put them back out front where they belong.
Tomorrow evening it's minor league baseball time! Our first game of the season, and I'm looking forward to the fireworks show afterwards.
Life is good if you can appreciate the little things. Enjoy your weekend!
I've been fighting some sort of stomach bug since last Sunday. I called in Monday but thanks to a diet of turkey, crackers and olives (nice and bland) I was able to go to work Tuesday and Wednesday. Last night I figured it was safe to eat real food again, and besides, I wanted something hot.
Bad move, in retrospect.
Since I was up last night (translation: most of the night), I watched some movies.
Reviews a-coming.
Well, our efforts to find Ozzie a girlfriend have ended in failure. Again. You may recall that our first attempt was with a beautiful doe named Butterscotch. She was a bit too aggressive for Oz and they wound up fighting pretty much right off the bat. On the plus side, after we took Butterscotch back to the rescue she has since been adopted out. She was a wonderful and affectionate girl, just not a good match for our little basket-case named Ozzie.
Now, we have another little sweetie named Midnight Louise, Midnight for short. Not nearly as aggressive as Butterscotch, but she definitely has her limits. Several of our rabbits have nipped me as a warning, just letting me feel their teeth (nipping during treat time is another matter, that's just getting overexcited and mistaking a fingertip for another piece of papaya). Midnight is the first rabbit we've had to actually bite and leave a mark - a tiny little paper cut-like slice on the meaty part of my palm at the base of the thumb. I thought it *was* an old paper cut, until it started bleeding a little. It was just the once, and as we got used to each other her little warning displays toned down considerably.
But a few days ago her and Ozzie got into it. Fur was flying, but no blood was shed (which happens surprisingly often between "cute little bunnies"). Liz got them separated, but it was too late. I think I've said it before, that bunnies hold grudges, and these two won't tolerate the other for the foreseeable future.
So Midnight goes back to the rescue. She'll be fine, because she's a dream to take care of, and the *only* thing wrong with her is her inability to deal with Ozzie. Since the vast majority of rabbit-keeping homes in the world don't have Ozzie living in them, she'll make someone (else) very happy.
I think we're done trying. There's another option at the rescue, but we only have room for two rabbit cages, so the ladies have been staying in Ozzie's cage while he lives in a pen on the floor in Liz's sewing room. Liz wants her space back, so the pen goes away and Oz goes back into his cage. As odd as it sounds, Ozzie has become more affectionate towards the people (and dog) since we've been trying to pair him up. This whole exercise originally started because he was acting lonely, but it seems that he's decided that he prefers his humans to another rabbit.
In order to stay anonymous, Spitzer used his good friend's name whenever he hired hookers!
Whatta pal.
Update: Link added.
Since the beginning of the school year, over 600 students have left the Prince William County school system. Oops, that's not quite correct. Over 600 students have left the "English for Speakers of Other Languages" classes in the Prince William County school system. I haven't heard specific numbers, but apparently a significant percentage of them have dropped since March 3rd, which happens to coincide with the start of our tough new anti-illegal immigration laws.
Doomsayers have been pointing out that the county spent big bucks to train all law enforcement personnel in immigration procedures. Looks to me that we're going to make that up fairly quickly via the schools. Smaller class sizes, fewer teachers needed, less new construction, etc.
I'd be really curious to see figures about the local hospital emergency rooms.
Get it up!
Get it on!
Get off!
Rawhide!
I find it amusing that the Democrat race can be summed up as:
She Who Must Not Be Named vs. He Who Must Not Be Middle-Named.
In oriental art, you can tell which country a dragon figure is from by counting the number of toes. A dragon with five toes is Chinese, four toes is Korean and three is Japanese. All three countries have similar legends explaining why this is so and thus why dragons originated in their country.
You remember those cartoons where a character lights a match in a pitch dark space, and by the flickering light you see that he's in the middle of a room full of dynamite? And he gets that "oh shit" look just before *KABLOOIE!!!*
After the smoke clears, he's standing there, charred and smoking, eyes wide open, wondering just what the hell happened.
Today at work, I lit the match.
All is well, but I was shellshocked for a couple of hours.
I have zero interest in the Super Bowl this year. to the point that I'm going to watch a movie instead. I've been in the mood for Mystery Men, and I'll admit that I've had the hots for Janeane Garofalo for years. Yes, I understand that she's a far-left leaning whackjob, but there are ways to keep her quiet in bed.
Misogynistic? Only if I refuse to reciprocate.
I'm sitting on the sleeper couch upstairs with a blanket over my legs, and the dog has been cuddled up next to me all morning. He knows I'm not feeling well*, and he's very empathic, so he's doing what he can to make me feel better. A few minutes ago he crawled out from under the blanket, stretched and walked out, presumably to go curl up next to Liz in bed. He left an enormous drool spot on the cushion next to me, and if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go make sure the little dear isn't sleeping on my pillow.
*Don't you love how I've managed to work in the fact that I'm sick into every post today? Whiny little baby? Moi?
That's what my throat feels like. We've got something running through the office, and it's my turn to have my ass kicked (actually, there were five of us out at least one day last week). Fever, sore throat, aches - oh yeah, all the classic flu symptoms. I haven't posted much because I've been feeling so rotten that all I would be doing is pissing and moaning. That's fun once in a while, but you don't want to read a bunch of that, and I don't want to write like that.
When I come up with something pleasant, I'll post it. Ha, I almost said 'worthwhile' instead of 'pleasant'! As if...
Buy.
* Remember the old adage: buy low, sell high. Right now, prices are going down. You can afford more, and when the value increases, so will the return on your investments. And in the long run, the market always goes higher.
** I am not a professional financial analyst. I don't play one on TV. I didn't even sleep in a Holiday Inn last night.
If you get pulled over for speeding by a cop, you can try to talk him out of a ticket. But if he looks in your back seat and sees this, you might as well not even try.
Her name is Butterscotch, and she's a one year old doe (picture to come later). We're fostering her for now, but our single rabbit Ozzie has been showing signs of loneliness lately, so we've decided to try to pair them up. It doesn't always work, and it doesn't always go as smoothly as it did with our other pair, Fred and Java, but we'll give this a shot and if it doesn't work out, then we have other young ladies to try.
The rabbit rescue we work with is Bunny Lu. Give 'em a visit and hit their donation jar if you feel so inclined.
But rather than making you refresh repeatedly to find it and driving up my site stats and inflating my ego, I'll just post it here too.
I've got another one in mind, but it involves some tricky photography and I just haven't felt ambitious enough to take it on.
By the way, there are now 42 Rocket Jones banners, plus three special occasion ones that I trot out for Christmas, Halloween and my birthday. Thanks again to all the folks who sent entries into the banner contest. If you like a banner, odds are good that it wasn't my work.
I was just sitting here thinking about something and my eyes kinda went out of focus. The retro-style background on Rocket Jones works just like one of those magic eye pictures and if you're looking at it the right way, it goes 3-D!
Would you believe that I did that on purpose?
Something or other is happening in Iowa today, and that's the only thing I can think of that I might possibly care about.
Mookie adores it, so she found a place nearby that got rave reviews and treated me to dinner. She says the food there was really, really good.
I tried several things, but I discovered that I just don't like Thai food.
I've mentioned before that Ozzie, one of our house rabbits, "thumps" with his back legs when he's not happy about something. He's thumping away right now in his cage.
Liz and daughter Robyn are in Florida to visit Mom and Dad. Apparently Ozzie is feeling neglected because nobody is in the sewing room with him. I put the stereo on in there, but he's used to Liz sitting in there where he can see her.
This is going to get old real quick.
As promised yesterday, here's what you can expect from Rocket Jones for the next year (or eternity).
This one amuses me greatly, boys and girls. Expect to see it again.
Much like you loyal Rocket Jones stalkers readers and commenters (not always the same to my chagrin), who return regularly to view my little corner of this grand trainwreck that Al Gore wrought.
Enjoy. I do believe that she will.
Oh yes, to a frightening degree, she will be enjoying it.
And tomorrow, a visual depiction on what to expect from the 2008 version of Rocket Jones!
I'm talking loot from Santa, of course.
Made out like a bandit this year. Nothing unusual I guess, because we tend to go way overboard on gifts since we start Christmas shopping in the summer and would all rather get lots of little things rather than one giant gift-wrapped coolness.
Before I make you envy me though, I want to mention the hands down bestest gifts given this year. My wife, Liz, has worked since August on photo album/scrapbooks, customized for each of the kids and one for her parents. Well over 200 pages of memories each (I don't even want to think about what the ink cost!), plus a CD-Rom of all the photos from each book, plus more that weren't printed, and on top of all that Liz made embroidered covers for each book. Absolutely amazing.
So, here's some of what I got:
A new harmonica (key of A)
Electronic guitar tuner
A gadget to help build rockets
A rocket with a built in camera for taking in-flight photos
Book on writing horror
10th anniversary edition of Myst/Riven/Exile
And movies (surprise, surprise), filling some gaps in my collection:
The Living Coffin (mexican horror)
Zombie 2 (Fulci's Italian classic)
My Favorite Year (Peter O'Toole, one of my favorite actors)
Groundhog Day (Bill Murray)
Evil Dead (Bruce Campbell)
Groundhog Day (Bill Murray)
House/House II (underated)
Groundhog Day (Bill Murray)
Predator
Groundhog Day (Bill Murray)
plus a 50-movie pack called Night Screams, packed full of B-movie drive-in-ish goodness
Rachael also cracked me up with "The Disappearing Civil Liberties" Mug. It has the Bill of Rights written on the side, and when you pour hot coffee or tea into it, the writing disappears. Makes me laugh every time (with a hint of rueage to be sure).
So how was your Christmas?
Rachael bought a dehydrator a while ago, but left it in our kitchen because she really shouldn't have it in her dorm room. Mostly, we use it to make apple, banana and papaya chips for the bunnies.
Yesterday we sliced up a fresh pineapple and started the machine. Last night Rachael described the results as "a bitch slap of flavor!"
...so I'll just post it here.
Have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season.
As I mentioned, oldest daughter Robyn and son-in-law Henry are heading up to New Hampshire to surprise his mom for Christmas. They left Norfolk at o'dark thirty this morning and are now in Hartford, Connecticut, where they have a hotel for the night.
A half hour ago, the phone rings. It's the kids, needing a little help. They're staying in a Sheraton (great rate for the night, and it's right off the interstate), and when they asked for a local dining list, it's full of "fine" dining choices that they can't afford and have no interest in anyway.
Kids today solve problems in ways that us geezers would never think of. After explaining the situation, they ask if I'm near a computer, then if I could look up local restaurants for them. Soon, they've decided that they want to eat at Olive Garden, and within minutes I'm giving them directions to the nearest one, within 10 miles of their hotel.
Only one glitch, the directions take them on a toll road, and they'd rather not if they don't have to. Another few minutes, and I'm dictating directions that uses major side roads and alternate routes that's shorter (not necessarily faster) and avoids those pesky tolls that New Englanders are so fond of.
I better hear no crap from my daughter when I call late one night from the road, requesting directions to the nearest titty bar.
Not that we were, but since when has that ever stopped me?
Dogette has been dealing with the tree-beasties.
Bitterman has in the past.
(no specific links, just go and scroll, consider it my present to all Rocket Jones readers)
As most of you know, my daughter Rachael goes to Mary Baldwin College, where the team name is the "Fighting Squirrels" (even more inexplicably, their mascot is named "Gladys").
We exchanged a few gifts last night over at my other daughter's house (they left today for a New Hampshire Christmas with son-in-law's family), and we gifted Rachael with a t-shirt showing a couple of squirrels and reads:
Sure, it's all fun and games until someone loses a nut.
Maybe not so inexplicable after all.
I won't deny it, I was laughing at you.
I'm sure that you're glare is usually very intimidating, but I'd been watching you in the back seat of your homie's SUV, and I was greatly amused.
You see, when you ride along with your head hanging out the window, trying to peep the women in the traffic around you, you look like a damn dog.
There has been a definite lack of Christmas spirit around the officeplace, which was fine with me. That all changed this morning when I walked in and found the place completely decorated by a couple of "anonymous" elves. Not only that, but there are goodies and little gifts left on everybody's desk. I'm wearing an elf hat, complete with pointy ears, and enjoying a sweet little nibble with my tea.
Thank you, little elves. I needed this.
No, not Paris Hilton.
I'm tired of the phrase "You can't make this stuff up".
Yes, you can.
All the hotel chains now offer a "continental breakfast". I've seen a few, very few, that are actually worth having. Most feature your choice of raisin bran or fruit loops, a basket of brown fruit, envelopes of oatmeal in the flavors that nobody likes, stacks of bread and thawed waffles next to a toaster, and a selection of stale mini-muffins and even more stale mini-danish. All washed down with coffee-colored hot water and watered-down orange or apple juice.
You know what I'd like to see? How about a pot of really good coffee? That's all.
And if people bitch because they want free bad food? Give 'em directions to the nearest 7-11 and tell 'em to buy their own freakin' frozen waffles.
In a weekend full of zingers and one-liners fired by all and in every direction, one stands out.
The graduation ceremony for Old Dominion University was held in the arena where ODU basketball is played (called "the Ted"... no relation). Before the ceremony started the concession stands were open, because the U isn't going to miss a single opportunity to make a few bucks.
So the very first speaker says:
I would like to remind everyone that this graduation ceremony is an event that deserves the utmost dignity.
To which Jeff replied:
You blew that when you decided to sell nachos.
That exchange barely topped my wife Liz, who zinged Jason with this one:
Jason: I have a 60 inch television.Liz: Sorry to hear you have a little penis.
Jason was speechless, although no one could tell because we were all howling and rolling on the floor.
A grand weekend.
From the forum over at Wildside Cinema, posted by a rather disturbed individual named Dent.
Won't'cha be my neighbor... bitch!
Tomorrow we're headed down to Norfolk for oldest daughter's graduation from Old Dominion University. Depending on traffic and the weather 'round these here parts, we'll be back some time Sunday.
Oh, on a random note... was treated to lunch today at the Fort Meyers Officers Club. On base we passed by General Petraeus' home.
From Germany, that is.
I heard on the news this morning that some German minister threatened to boycott future US climate talks unless we agreed to follow their lead in Bali.
Let's see. Since adopting Kyoto, most of Europe - including Germany - have not only *not* met their reduction goals but have mostly ignored them because they've proved to be unreachable without major damage to their economy.
But that inconvenient truth doesn't stop them from lecturing the US. Who, by the way, is actually making progress towards reducing greenhouse gas emissions by using modern technology.
So I say lets reduce our carbon footprint in Germany by closing down every last damn military base and bringing the troops home. Some would probably be shifted to Poland or other eastern European countries, you know, the ones who actually want us there.
Less money for western Europe. We could spend some of the savings on health care for the kids who really need it here at home.
I get my stitches out tomorrow and the results of the tissue biopsy are due as well. All is expected to be normal, in which case I can officially stop obsessing over this freakin' skin cancer episode.
Last Monday I made a quickie doctor's appointment because it felt like I had an ear infection. I'm not a hypochondriac, but when I need to go see the doc, I do it. Over the last six months, I've seen the docs way too often. So yeah, I had an ear infection. Both ears, in fact, along with a sinus infection. After four days on antibiotics, not only were the ears not feeling better, they were hurting. Another call to the doctor's office resulted in a new prescription, the antibiotic equivalent of a surgical nuclear strike. I'm all for that. I started the new regime yesterday, but it'll take a day or two to really start kicking in, and in the meantime I've been popping tylenol like candy to keep myself from driving an icepick through my eardrum. And sleeping. I don't sleep much, I've never needed all that much. Yet I've probably slept 36 out of the last 48 hours, and been miserable every waking moment.
This has got to end. I've had one helluva string of minor medical mindfucks, and I'm ready to surrender. Hear that God? UNCLE already!!!!!
Ladies, don't correct me if I'm wrong about that.
Yesterday I had a spot of skin cancer removed from my face, and now I have 5 stitches. All I need is a couple of bolts sticking out of my neck and I'll be set.
In the future, I'll refer to it as what happened when I got into that knife fight.
Two weekends ago I made the trip to Staunton, Virginia, for Rachael's Father-Daughter Dance weekend. I got there on Friday afternoon so that we could attend their latest play, The Vic. This may have been the first time that it had been performed outside of Canada and peeps, if you get the chance, see it. Very powerful, and this production was incredible. Inspired set design and performances. By far the best I've seen there, and they've put on some excellent shows. I also spent most of the intermission talking to the director who is also one of Rachael's professors, he's a helluva nice guy.
On Saturday, Rachael and I walked around historic downtown Staunton. We hit a couple of bookstores, browsed the farmer's market (last weekend until Spring) and checked out the galleries and museums. In the afternoon, a bunch of us, parents and kids, met at a local restaurant for an early dinner and had a great time. The girls are all very good friends, and this was the first time that most of us parents had met.
That evening was the ring ceremony and formal dance, held in the ballroom at the Stonewall Jackson Hotel. The idea here is that in their Junior year of school, the dad's present their daughters with their school ring. They call each couple up and the presentation is made with much photo taking and so on. Rachael picked out a vintage-style pearl and garnet filigree ring that is beautiful.
The dance was ok. Everyone had a problem with the constant disco ball and flashing colored lights from the stage, so we all (the same group from lunch, plus several more), stayed outside the ballroom in the lobby and danced and enjoyed the company. Had a great time.
After the dance, we'd been invited to the cast party for the show. I love hanging with the theater people.
The next morning, we had breakfast and I headed home. Tired but happy.
For Thanksgiving, everyone was home. Rachael and Robyn arrived on Wednesday to help with the baking and early cooking. Robyn brought her friend Ashley, who comments here occasionally and proves my point that college chicks dig Rocket Jones. Dinner was huge and traditional and we had a ton of leftovers, as usual.
In two week (I think, my internal calendar is overloaded), we head down to Norfolk for daughter Robyn's graduation from Old Dominion University. After the ceremony, a big group of us will be going to see the Norfolk Admirals play ice hockey.
Oh yeah, it's been good times for the proud papa.
King Juan Carlos of Spain tells Hugo Chavez to "shut up" and the audio clip becomes one of the hottest cell phone ring tones on the Iberian peninsula. Gotta love him. How much?
This much.
The house is quiet, the dishes have been caught up with, and a good weekend was had by all 'cept one. Liz fell Friday night and is pretty much bedridden until further notice. I've been doing nurse duty in addition to everything else going on. Luckily, our son was home yesterday to help Liz out while the girls and I went to the Smithsonians in DC.
Mookie's four friends are all art majors/minors, so we concentrated on the art and artifact museums. Pottery, paintings, sculptures, photography and more. Next time, we'll do the old dead critters and Air and Space.
I did do some tour guiding, beginning with our drive into Rosslyn (we metro'd in from there). We passed the Pentagon, Arlington Cemetery, Iwo Jima Memorial and the new Air Force Memorial en route. Once on the mall, I started explaining how the Smithsonians came into being. You do know the story, right? If not, then read on, otherwise jump ahead to where it says "ZEBRA".
James Smithson was born in France and became a naturalized English citizen. He was a recognized scientist of his day in a few different disciplines. He died in Genoa, Italy and his will left a small amount to a long-time servant and the rest of the estate to his nephew, with the proviso that if the nephew died without an heir then the entire estate would go to the US Government to found "The Smithsonian Institution". The nephew did die a few years later sans heir and the whole shebang went to Uncle Sam.
There was quite a bit of debate about what form the "Smithsonian" should take. Some argued for research labs or farms, others for an observatory. In the end, it was decided to do "D, all of the above". Besides the museums, the Smithsonian has other facilities around the world doing a wide range of work.
In Genoa, the cemetery where Smithson was buried was being condemned, so the US Government had his tomb brought to the USA. It was the first time Smithson had ever been to the US. He made his incredible gift to a country that he'd never visited, for reasons that nobody knows. His tomb is now installed in the famous Smithsonian Castle on the National Mall, and you can visit it (we did).
ZEBRA
Somehow, we started this goofy running gag we called "dead Rachael". Shannon had her camera phone, and at various times and places in and around the museums, we'd take pictures of Rachael in death. In an elevator in the Freer, draped over an upper balcony in the Sackler, slumped over in a chair beside a piece in the Hirschhorn, and on the steps leading up to the National Art Gallery. All places where "dead Rachael" was captured on film... er, on pixels. I did try to convince her to pose for a shot floating face down in one of the museum fountains, but she has more common sense than her dad, if not quite the level of spirited adventure.
The girls all had different ideas of what to see at the last place, so we split up. I wanted to visit the William Turner exhibit, but the line was a mile long and I just didn't have the time. I contented myself with wandering a few of the other rooms, admiring the works of Rembrandt and Monet and Van Gogh and the rest of the famous old dead dudes. I will admit I was rather horrified to see the number of children who were running around only marginally supervised, especially because you can get pretty damn close to the artwork before the proximity alarms go off. I barely caught myself a time or two from snapping at a child who was reaching to touch one of the paintings, and judging from security's reactions towards the parents, I think I'll have a position waiting for me after I retire.
Next week we travel to Staunton for the Father/Daughter Ring Dance. It's a junior year tradition where I present Rachael with her school ring. We went with garnets in an antique filigree rather than the traditional, because Rachael loves red and antique style jewelry. Rachael helped pick it out, she loves it.
So life stays hectic. As much as I love just chillin' sometimes, there's something invigorating about having to go-go-go for a stretch.
There are huge* numbers of Rocket Jones fans who will be green with envy at the following announcement.
This weekend, five (*5*, count 'em eff-eye-vee-eee) college age girls will be living under my roof.
On Saturday, we will all be heading into Washington, DC to the Smithsonians, specifically the Hirshhorn, Freer and Sackler galleries.
And, I get to cook. I've already been informed that the ladies will gladly be guinea pigs for whatever experimental recipes I want to throw at them. After all, they've been surviving on college cafeteria food. *shudder*
I've been planning the menu for a couple of weeks and started gathering ingredients. Last night I began cooking. The menu for the time they'll be here (and most everything will be from scratch, right down to the sauces and marinades):
Friday Evening:
Veggie-Patch Enchiladas
Chicken and Steak Fajitas
Spanish Rice
Tropical Dream Cake
Saturday Morning:
French Toast from home-made Cinnamon Raisin Bread
Saturday Evening:
Baked Potato Soup
Pasta e Fagioli Soup
Garlic Bread
Chocolate Crunch Trifle
Sunday Morning:
Oatmeal with cooked apples
=========================================
* "huge", as defined by this authoritative source
This morning I heard a report that people leaving hostile workplaces because of sexual or racist comments cost the economy 67 billion dollars a year. According to the report, more than half a million people changed jobs last year for that reason, and lost productivity and the need to train replacements cost 67 billion dollars.
Of course, the study was released by "The Center for a Level Playing Field in the Workplace", or some similar nonsense. That's kinda like being surprised when "The Institude for the Study of Global Warming" announces that global warming is real.
Twelve trillion Americans are sick and tired of bullshit statistics. You can quote me on that, in my official capacity as a member of "The Institute for Pulling Made-Up Numbers Out of My Butt".
So President General Musharraf of Pakistan declares a state of emergency, mainly arrests and detains lawyers because he feels that the judiciary has gotten too politically active.
People all over the world are up in arms over the "loss of freedoms".
The newspapers are still up and running and free to print whatever they want. The radio stations are still broadcasting without government intervention, so is television.
I have a suggestion for him. Call President Bush names. Then, instead of the mock outrage as one of "Bush's cronies", you'll be a freedom fighter seeking to reduce the influence of evil capitalism on your proud and ancient culture, and no one will whisper a word if you decide to take totalitarianism to the extreme.
It works for Chavez in Venezuela. Hell, you might even get your picture taken with Cindy Sheehan.
As for the "people all over the world" (accepted translation: useful idiots), STFU. The situation bears watching, but all your hypocritical hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth impresses no one except your own foolish comrades.
You may or may not know that I am a proud resident of Prince William County in Virginia. You may have heard of us recently because after a twelve hour meeting (!) of the County Board of Supervisors, a new law was unanimously passed that will deny taxpayer funded services to illegal aliens. Kids will still get schooled and the emergency room is still available to all, but if you're not a legal resident, then Joe American is no longer footing the bill.
There are already reports from neighboring counties of families scouting out neighborhoods, looking for new places to live. These are, of course, the counties who have decried us as collectively racist and supporters of "hate-based" laws.
These are not the counties who are debating similar laws, which without exception are also overwhelmingly supported by the residents.
Over the last week, a neighboring county has been contacting each and every registered sex offender within its borders, instructing them that come Halloween, they would have the drapes closed, outside lights off, and a sign stating "No Candy" to be displayed on the closed door. Good idea, methinks, and the warning that spot-checks would be made provided a little emphasis that this was more than a friendly suggestion.
Our county did something similar, except that each and every registered sex offender that lives in Prince William County was required to attend a meeting that would last most of the evening on Halloween.
I feel like Corey Feldman in The 'Burbs.
Had everyone home for the weekend. Rachael is home for fall break, which prompted Robyn and son-in-law Henry to come up to visit, since they hadn't seen each other in quite a while. It was nice having the kids around, just as it will be nice when they all leave again (Rachael heads back to school tomorrow afternoon).
I spent Saturday afternoon baking. Birthday cake for Robyn (Happy Birthday Sweetie!!!! - today's the b-day), and three batches of biscotti (almond, apple cinnamon, and lemon cranberry).
We had a great dinner at a Japanese steakhouse, with our "chef" being the oriental Henny Youngman. Very droll, very funny (to me, some of our tablemates didn't like him much).
Afterwards, much poker was played, with yours truly coming out the big winner. "Winner" being defined as ending up with the most chips, because we were playing for fun since nobody had any money. Didn't matter, it was good times.
So all in all, a very active weekend. Lots got done. Lots of fun. Muchly needed to recharge the ol' spiritual batteries.
I hope yours was a nice as mine.
Every time I think about Al Gore being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, I heartily chuckle out loud. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when. At my desk, walking on the sidewalk to work (the construction workers gave me odd looks).
Please Mr. Gore, you've got credibility now! Enter the race and save us from a Hillary Clinton administration!!! You're our only hope!
Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!
This is priceless!!!!!! (there aren't enough exclamation points in the world for it)
Thanks to Q&O for pointing that one out.
For Halloween, some downloadable wallpapers (1024x768).
Lon Cheney Sr. in "London at Midnight"
Boris Karloff from "The Mummy" (my personal favorite and what I have at work)
A cute and completely non-threatening clown
Enjoy!
(Update: I created and uploaded these, in case you're worried about virii or other eCommunicable Nasties)
What was the name of that Dodge vehicle that had all the "I'm so tough" commercials? It scared the *bleep* out of the cute widdle cartoon characters, and it ignored the fairy as she bounced shot after shot of magic off of it.
I saw one today on the road with a couple of big-assed cracks running across the entire windshield.
Not so tough when you meet a real fucking rock now, are you?
In the Spring, I ordered perennials from Spring Hill Nursery (no link for them), and then spent a couple of frustrating months as half of everything they shipped to me showed up dead and dessicated.
They finally sent a note saying that planting season was over, and they'd send the rest of the order (which they still hadn't gotten right) in the fall.
I've written them off, the company is dead to me. Still, late last week two boxes showed up with my missing items. The asters are in great shape, the geranium appears to be good, but only five of the six primrose survived, and two of the five aren't looking so hot.
Fortunately, we're experiencing one heckuva warm stretch, so the plants are now in the ground and hopefully establishing their little green butts off. Liz wasn't thrilled because I had to transplant some really beautiful annuals to make room for these new arrivals. Annuals that I'd planted to fill in the gaps caused by Spring Hill's inability to actually stock items offered in their catalog, or if shipped, have them survive the process (I never did get living lavender after three tries).
On the plus side, I got to play in the dirt.
Sent to me via email.
This one makes me cringe.
Today's rant: Red Bull and all the other various "energy" drinks. Young people today act like they invented overdosing on caffeine. Ooooh, look at me, I'm drinking Red Bull and Vodka, I'm so very cool.
When my parents needed to hype up, they took No-Doz. For my generation, it was Vivarin. Meanwhile, today the kids can't handle the overdrive buzz unless it's kool-aid flavored.
Pussies.
Comments are closed until further notice. Thank an asshole spammer if you actually wanted to say something here.
Washington DC is building a new stadium for the Washington Nationals major league baseball team. What was ignored during the planning stages is that there are only 1,300 parking spaces available for the stadium. This isn't a surprise, it was pointed out, but city officials pushed ahead anyways. Part of their reasoning was that people would take Metro. Yay, Metro!
Expansion of the nearby Metro station is almost two months behind schedule. Right now, it can barely handle the crowds that pass through it during a normal work day.
As for parking, why, they'd just borrow parking from all the nearby government agencies! Why plan or build when you can use existing, right? Wrong. The local agencies have denied permission to use their parking lots for security reasons. I completely agree with that. I can't think of an easier way to disrupt (for instance) the Department of Transportation than to take a car bomb (or a fake one) and abandoning it in their parking lot under the guise of going to the baseball game.
When Marion Barry was Mayor, we knew for sure that the boss in DC were on drugs. Now we have to rely on anecdotal evidence.
From "The Curious Education of Epitome Quirkstandard":
"I'm sorry I'm late," the girl said once more, in a voice that seemed to blend the best parts of honey and heresy together.
The above is from an audiobook I'm listening to, which is very much in the whimsically absurd style of Wodehouse. So far, so great!
Cleaned up the blogroll some. Pruned away some dead or long unread links. Nothing personal, believe me. Also added some long overdue such as my daughter Robyn's blog and Joan's exceptional Primordial Slack. Re-added the Universal Church of Cosmic Certainty, who had been absent for a while but has made a triumphant return. Also, way down at the bottom, I added links to Podiobooks.com, Come, Let Me Whisper, and a couple other online resources that I frequently use.
Bet you're just thrilled to have read all that, eh?
Last Monday evening I pulled an abdominal muscle. As you can imagine, pretty much everything you do involves your abs to some degree. Walking, breathing, standing, sitting... I've been pretty miserable this week, but since it wouldn't feel better if I stayed at home instead of going to work, I still put in a full week. It's getting better every day, slowly but surely.
Point is, I haven't felt much like blogging this week, hence the light posting.
Some of you may have noticed that Rocket Jones got hacked last night by some cyber-jihadist. Chief bit-Wizard Pixy fixed things up in short order, and things are back to as normal as they get around here.
I've also given him the go-ahead to migrate Rocket Jones from Movable Type to Minx. Same bat-channel, but the default templates are clean and basic and, well, default. Expect a very different look for a while as I tinker with things under the hood to bring you a new and exciting version of Rocket Jones.
Yep. Dazzle 'em with presentation if the content sucks. It works for Power Point.
So far today, I've installed an underground downspout extender on the corner of the house, set in a small stone patio, filled in some low spots in the yard with topsoil and put new grass seed and fertilizer down to get established before fall comes on.
It's not even noon yet, I've showered and right now breakfast is sounding pretty good.
Besides the Yankees, it's a given that they have no class.
First, the Patriots get busted for cheating, to the tune of a half-mil fine for the coach, a quarter-mil for the team itself, and the loss of either a first round or second and third round pick in the next draft. In other words, this wasn't a slap on the wrist. So then Patriots fans throw a huge collective tantrum because life is so unfair and the cheating bastards were nailed for it. No class.
Next up, Buffalo Sabres defenseman Teppo Numminen will be undergoing open-heart surgery next week to repair a valve. He's known for years that he would eventually need it, and doctors decided that now is the time. He could conceivably rejoin the team by December. So what does the team do? The oh-so-supportively suspend him without pay. What scumbags. Utterly without class.
At least when I do it, it's cute.
Rocket Jones is number 5 on Google for "I hate the Denver Broncos" and number 3 on Yahoo for the same.
C'mon, a *spoiler* on a pickup?
Even without that nonsense, your gelding is already so fancified it's clear you're not driving a real truck. You might as well paint it pink, you pussy.
Cheech and Chong did this first, but they made it up. This, on the other hand, is real.
At a job fair today, you can interview with a company who's touting their location on the coast in SouthEastern North Carolina. Interview where? Why, the Westin hotel, of course.
WalMart is now selling the canned squirt-cheese in PepperJack flavor under its own brand name.
Surprisingly good.
America really believes in education. The average professor earns more money in a year than a professional athlete earns in a whole game.
We passed a "Day Spa for Pets" yesterday. It's enormous, and the smallest part are the outdoor runs, because everything your widdle wuvvie-duvvie needs is inside, where it's climate controlled, 'natch.
I mused about how you could set up elite service, when every animal in there is already pampered to an insane degree. After a while, it hit me.
Charge a premium (say fifty bucks a day) and your beloved pet will be fed the meat from an endangered species! You know damn well these snooty twits will spring for it.
"Our Fifi positively *thrives* on spotted owl."
Back in the day of real record albums, there was enough room on the jackets to really have fun *and* fit some real information on there. With the miniaturization of the media it's become a real challenge to create release artwork that is both catchy and detailed. Of course, not everyone used all that album jacket real estate to best advantage.
Uh, guys? How are you going to drink those with your helmet's on? I do like the bright pink brunette on the far left though. Rowwwr.
Subtle humor. I likee.
Not much subtlety here, although the thought of all that mist makes my bones ache. Cold and damp, oh yeah, that's romance!
But you know, if there's music for that, then why not music for other things?
I like this one, it's cute.
That girl certainly gets around though, doesn't she? Ah, the good ol' days, when it took a professional to photoshop something.
There's probably a reason.
Some things just naturally go together. Some things don't.
And of course, we can always just dance, dance, dance, because it's more fun if you say it three times.
No, really!
Sorta.
And if all that was too modern, modern, modern for you, there were always the classics:
Full disclosure, I had a cassette of old roaring 20's honky-tonk that I played until it just flat wore out.
Now, *here's* a strategy to sell records! Put bored looking people on the cover! Woo hoo! It's not a good strategy, but it is a strategy.
Ragtime and Dixieland. Oh yeah.
Although soft, romantic interludes aren't what come to mind when I think dixieland. Or a parade... what the hell?
An interesting take on bondage. Immobilize her with a fishing net and then bring on the dixieland. The jackets add a visual aspect to the torture, which is why she's not blindfolded. Notice her smile? Kinky bitch.
Alternate caption for the above: One time, in band camp...
Hint: Wrong one.
Hope you enjoyed.
You know that saying "Don't shoot the messenger"?
Today I was that messenger.
Shooting would've been a mercy.
The quiz is here.
Answers in the extended entry.
Which one was made up?
1. Combination tanning parlor and video store.
Believe it or not, the midwest seems to be riddled with these things. Several years ago we went on vacation through Indiana and Ohio, and couldn't believe how many businesses with this odd combination there were.
2. Combination interior design and casket/urn sales.
This one is my own invention. My daughter Rachael has been talking about starting a fabric store in her college town, speciallizing in theatrical materials besides the usual sewing notions. The original store in town didn't go out of business, but the interior designing she was doing on the side became so successful that she shut down the retail store. While joking around about the name of our "new business" one day, I suggested "Exit, Stage Left" and to divide the store in half, one half selling fabrics and theatrical materials, and the other half selling caskets and urns.
I had a similar inspiration a few weeks ago. Rachael was working in Charlottesville, Virginia this summer (hometown of Dave Matthews, if you care) and while visiting one weekend we spied in the local paper an article that listed things that a town their size should have, but didn't. One item was a botanical gardens park, and another was a strip club. I immediately saw the synergy there and suggested that we combine the two and call it "Flowers and Bushes".
I am accepting investment capital if anyone wants to get in on the ground floor.
3. Combination daycare and martial arts academy.
I saw a sign for this one last week in our neighborhood. I first thought that it was a daycare that offered martial arts training after school or something, but nope, it's exactly what the description says. Odd.
One of these is made up:
1. Combination tanning parlor and video store.
2. Combination interior design and casket/urn sales.
3. Combination daycare and martial arts academy.
Leave your guess in the comments.
Update: Answer can be found here.
If Dr. Hook were singing this alone, it'd be one thing:
We could bring in the morning girl
If you want to go that far
And if tomorrow find us together
Right here the way we are would you mind
Sharing the night together
Oh-yeah, sharing the night together
Oh-yeah, sharing the nightSharing the Night Together
Every time I hear this, it sounds like an invitation to a gangbang.
Lazy Sunday morning, not even properly awake yet.
"Lets play Pearl Harbor," I said to Liz.
"What's that?"
"While I lay here, you blow the hell out of me."
I heard an AllState Insurance radio spot this morning where they're offering "accident forgiveness" coverage. Pay a little more each month now, and they won't raise rates when you have an accident.
Smart move. Them, not the suckers who voluntarily raise their own insurance rates for the exact same coverage.
A WWII sub docked at the Baltimore Maritime Museum.
Photo courtesy of Inside Charm City.
Last night I met a former co-worker for a minor league baseball game. His son is about to enter college, and they're doing a tour of the "local" ballparks. By local I mean northern Virginia, Maryland, southern Pennsylvania and Delaware.
The weather really cooperated. After a couple of scorching, humid weeks yesterday was dry and a relatively comfortable upper-80's.
The game was exciting, with our Potomac Nationals pitcher, Justin Jones, taking a no hitter into the 9th inning. The first out in the 9th was easy, and then the next batter lined a clean single into center. Oh well. Big standing ovation for Jones. He struck out the next batter, then allowed another single to right. The PNats brought in a closer (another long standing ovation for Jones) and the final batter bounced it back to the mound for the game. PNats: 2-zip. They scored both runs in the first.
Excellent. As were the fireworks afterwards, as usual. The game time was less than two hours too.
The dogs have been needing a haircut. Of course, they don't like haircuts, so we put it off far longer than we should have. With the onset of hell-on-earth month, we went ahead and got it done because they're much more comfortable without all that hair, plus they dry off faster when I hose 'em down while we're out watering the garden (they act like they don't like that either, but they don't move out of the way).
Because they fight the scissors and clippers, they look kinda scraggly for a while. Liz is a perfectionist, whereas I'm like, "who cares, they're dogs". Today, I won that debate because it was just too hot to fight very hard when the dogs resisted. They mostly got shaved, more or less evenly.
Now comes the three day hump-fest as they get over the trauma of a haircut *and* a bath, all in the same day.
Last night was our annual trip to Ash Lawn, home of President Monroe and current venue of the Ash Lawn Opera Company. Once again, daughter Rachael is working there for the summer as assistant costumer.
The performance that we chose to see this year was Puccini's La Boheme, possibly the most famous opera of them all. Unfortunately, with the extreme heat and humidity, Liz decided she'd better not go, so I went with Rachael and the other assistant Brittney. Once there, I met several of the technical crew and walked around the grounds for a bit.
There was much concern about the weather because some rather ominous looking clouds were headed our way, and the rumble of thunder was getting louder and more frequent. Most of the audience headed for the indoor pavilion, assuming that the performance would be moved under cover, but many of us stayed put and waited for Mother Nature to make up her mind. The breeze picked up and cooled things off nicely, the humidity dropped noticeably, a few small drops sprinkled on us, and after a 40 minute delay the show started in the outdoor amphitheater. We were treated to a nice little lightning show going on in the background during the first act as the storm that just missed us receeded into the distance.
I spent that delay time having a nice conversation with the people around me. A lady had flown in from Austin, Texas to see the shows (The Sound of Music is the other performance that the company is doing this year). Her daughter was part of the chorus in La Boheme and played Lisle in The Sound of Music (...I am 16, going on 17...). Another nice couple were the Dean of Libraries at William and Mary college and her husband. For a Friday night, the crowd was very much on the older side, there weren't many there that were younger than I. I didn't relate the tale of how a few years ago, a snake fell out of one of the trees overhanging the stage and audience, although I was sorely tempted.
Among the "regulars" at Ash Lawn are three skunks, one of which is an albino, and a peacock with the most horrible ear-splitting screech. At random times during the performances, the peacock will let loose. You can always tell first-time guests because they jump when the feathered beastie screams. If you're not used to it or don't know what it is, it's positively blood-curdling.
So, I haven't much said anything about La Boheme, have I? I really enjoyed it. I did not cry at the end, but there were a couple of moments where the music really did move me, and I think I'll be searching out more opportunities to attend the opera.
When weeding in your garden, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.
I went outside this morning and spent quite a bit of time watering the flowers because it's been very dry around here lately. I also took a bunch of pictures of the various plants, but I used my old digital camera instead of Liz's new one, and the pictures were too blurry to use. Another day, maybe.
Anyway, as I'm deadheading and watering and generally putzing around the garden, I'm watching the activity around the various flowers. We have a basket of purple blossoms called petras that are like crack to bees. Little tiny bees, big-assed carpenter bees, bumblebees, wasps, mayflies and more. The entire plant is just swarming with 'em, lined up to grab a spot at the blooms. They're so intent on the flowers that they ignore me as I reach in with the soaker hose to water the pot. Bees and I get along, so there was no problem there.
I posted a picture a couple of years ago of a mandevilla that we grew up against a trellis. It's a tropical and didn't survive our winter. This year I've been trying to grow another clematis. Actually, I've planted four there, of which one is still alive. It's scraggly and chewed on and spotted with fungus, but damned if it doesn't keep stretching upwards and weaving its scrawny self through the trellis bars. After all of that, it even managed to pop out a single pretty bloom. I hope it makes it through the winter, because this is a tough little plant and I admire its deterimination to survive.
You followed that link above, right? The other photo there is a shot of New Guinea Impatiens. Around here (northern Virginia), Impatiens and Vinca are *the* go-to annuals. Quick growing, prolific blooming over the entire summer and fall, easy to care for and resistant to insects and disease, if you need to add a spot of color, then plant one or more of these. Spectacular. This year I planted six vinca in the front bed, and they're doing nicely. They probably won't overflow the bed like in that photo, but I didn't plant as many and they were planted relatively late.
We did find a nice variety of impatiens that we hadn't seen before though. It has variegated leaves and the blooms look like little roses, about 1 inch across. Very pretty.
In the side bed we have another O'Hare-esque situation, this time involving a pink phlox and some blue pincushion flowers. Butterflies especially love the pincushions (which have the rather unattractive "official" name of scabiosa), and there will generally be anywhere from six to two dozen assorted butterflies flitting around these plants. What's funny is watching the bumblebees land on the pincushions, because their weight causes the flower stalk to immediately crash to the ground, like an overbalanced painter on a tall ladder. When the bee falls off, the flower springs back into the air. The phlox and pincushions are both perennials, and will come back bigger and better every year. Teamed up with some white Dragon Flowers (a Virginia-native perennial cousin to snapdragons) and an interesting little annual called Agaretum with tiny blue pom-pom blooms about the size of your pinky nail, the side bed has a nice mix of whites, blues, purples and pinks. Come fall, our order of blue asters and purple coneflowers will arrive and we'll get them established to make that side bed entirely perennial.
When I'm stressed from the work week, sometimes the best remedy for me is to watch rockets majestically climb into a big, blue sky, and sometimes it's better for me to look closely at the amazing amount of nature that's happening right in my front yard.
Whoever said "stop and smell the roses" was a friggin' genius.
I have no idea why, but for the last year I've been on a major pineapple kick. I'll often have a can of pineapple chunks in juice for lunch, I love to grill pineapple rings, and the other night I even hacked up a fresh pineapple and carmelized it in a butter-rum sauce (with vanilla ice cream - yummmmmm!).
Now you know. The caring part is up to you.
Mu.Nu has been getting hammered with gibberish spam. Not only that, but it's booby-trapped so that when folks add it to the blacklist, valid domains like google.com get inadverdantly blocked too. That bonks the comments in a big way.
I've been busy working on a couple of other projects, hence the light posting here. Pictures and announcements coming soon.
I know it's not original, but I couldn't resist the title. Damn, it's hot!
Pixy is testing a problem we're having with Movable Type. This post is trying to recreate the problem for him.
In related news, I definitely have a problem. Just ask my wife.
Update: Dang. It worked perfectly this time... I don't know whether to be happy or not about that.
Yesterday I left work at noon because Liz had some lab appointments to take care of. After the first one, we headed to Wal-Mart for a few things and while we were there we decided to buy some flowers for the front yard.
Yeah, it's July and I still hadn't planted in the flower beds. I had ordered several types of perennials from Spring Hill Nursery in April, and we had some problems with the order. The Asters are *still* backordered, and after using the credit that they sent for new plants, I discovered two things. One, Spring Hill customer service isn't all that great, and two, *everything* is backordered until September. That's right, they won't ship the stuff they owe me until Fall.
Hence the flower purchases at Wal-Mart. We picked up some Vinca for the front bed, a few nice variagated impatiens to fill in on the side bed, and a beautiful pink phlox that will come back every year. There were a couple other nice plants in blues and purples, so at least there would be something growing in the dirt.
After dropping off the flowers at home, I took Liz to the hospital. She was scheduled for some tests and had to spend the night. We got her checked in and then I headed home again. Got a few things done around the house, and finally settled in and watched the Benny Goodman Story before falling asleep around 1am.
I got to sleep in until 5am (normal wake-up on work days is 4am), and then drove to the hospital to pick Liz up around 6 or 6:30. They let her sleep in a little extra because it was a holiday, which was nice, but I would've appreciated knowing that because I could've used some extra z's myself. Oh well. We got her checked out and hit IHOP for breakfast.
After eating, we stopped at Lowes for mulch and then headed home. It was such a nice morning that I weeded the flower beds, put the new plants in the ground, spread two hundred pounds of mulch and generally tidied up the front yard. When that was done Liz went inside for more sleep while I got to talking with the neighbors who were just emerging for the day. We're planning a family trip to Old Dominion Speedway one evening to watch the home-town boys race, kinda like minor league NASCAR.
By the time I got inside and cleaned up, it was one in the afternoon. I grabbed a two hour nap, then got up and put together Liz's new sewing table, which involved much furniture rearranging in order to get it where it needed to be.
It's been a long, active 24 hours with too little sleep. Right now, I'm tired. Which also describes my attitude towards Spring Hill Nursery, who started this whole burst of activity.
Somehow, when James Burke does this, it comes out so much better.
Brooklyn born opera singer Beverly Sills succumbed last night at age 78 to lung cancer. She was never a smoker.
Known for her bright red hair and shining personality, "Bubbles" worked hard to foster an appreciation for opera to Americans, making numerous appearances on The Muppet Show and The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.
Thank you for sharing your gift with us. You will be missed.
Seen on the 'net:
Courtesy is the KY of social intercourse
Especially important considering the number of dickheads out there.
Our rabbit Ozzie loves attention. If you put your hand in his cage he will dive under it so you can scratch behind his ears. On the floor, he'll wriggle under your feet so you can rub his back.
Yesterday was pretty funny. He was out and about, running around the room, when he settled underneath a small oscillating fan that Liz has on the floor. Every time the fan moved back and forth, it scratched him on the head, just like he likes.
Update: Mrs. Jones has posted photographic evidence that I do, indeed, live in a universe of cute.
Like many other parts of the country, our local area has suffered from an explosion of McMansions: those bloated, overgrown houses on ridiculously small lots. Some of these huge homes are set within 10 or 20 feet of each other, and their front and back yards are as small as the ones in a regular townhouse neighborhood.
I'm not griping about the size of the homes, I'm griping about the density.
Driving past one such new development going up, we noted that each unit was four stories, with the bottom floor being a garage. They were shot through with oddly shaped windows to appear upscale and trendy, even unique if you ignored the thirty other homes in sight with the exact same floorplan. They call this one "The Villages at Rippon".
I call it "The Purple Martin House at Rippon."
Over at The Ministry of Minor Perfidy, Bastille Day has been chosen as D-Day for a soiree involving alcohol, cigars and Axis and Allies.
Alas, like most summer weekends, that particular day offers choices for this social butterfly. The following day, July 15th is Mookie's birthday (she was born, appropriately enough, in Landstuhl, Germany), and we had tentative plans to travel south to see the musical that she is costuming this summer.
If not culture, then Bastille Day also offers my next chance (and last before mid-August) to launch rockets. Despite the lack of posting about them, I still build and fly, and am looking to try some new tweaks to my hybrid system.
And now, the opportunity to push cardboard around and determine the fate of nations via the cast of the die (note to self: check the local game-geek store for yellow dice to honor the French). It's not easy to find people to play wargames with. Correction, it's not easy to find people to play wargames with that you aren't ashamed to be seen in public with.
It's probably no accident that Buckethead lives far out in the countryside at the end of a long dirt road.
I was reading that news story about the flooding going on in Fort Worth, Texas, and along the column were ads for "Nostradamus Online" and "Surplus Army Tents". Make of that what you will.
Methane is a greenhouse gas.
Greenhouse gasses are causing global warming.
Termites eat wood.
Termites fart a lot because of their diet.
Termite farts are methane.
New Orleans was overrun with termites.
Flooding New Orleans killed trillions of termites.
The government is responsible for flooding New Orleans.
Why isn't the federal government getting credit for the single greatest action in recent history to reduce the production of the greenhouse gas that causes global warming?
(inspired by this post)
I love shopping at Wal-Mart. It's really quite amazing how every store has pretty much the same stuff, and the economies of scale really keep prices remarkably low. It's not the greatest quality stuff in the world, but it is reasonable quality for an excellent price, and that's why people shop there.
Their inventory and distribution systems work with an efficiency that would've made the Nazi's proud. Their employee drones are helpful and friendly in an eerie stepford wives sort of way.
I'll bet the corporate fat cats rake in the bucks, sitting in their opulent mansions in Sweden, thanking their lucky stars that the anti-globalization crowd leaves them the hell alone so they can take advantage of Sven Everyman...
Wait... Sweden?
I'm sorry, I typed "Wal-Mart", but what I meant to type was "Ikea". I've never heard of any opposition to them. I assume that they get a pass because they're European.
I love the goofy names they give everything. Bookshelves called "Turgid", comic book organizers with a name made up of letters never meant to be consecutive. If they sell a "Muuki", I'm sure it'll be something weird and wonderful like a tofu-wringer or something.
Their showrooms are masterpieces of marketing and psychology. You start at the beginning and follow the arrows on the floor, and you don't get out until you've seen every last thing on both floors. There are convenient shortcuts, and they're not hidden but they are very unobtrusive. You're not supposed to notice them, you're supposed to see every last thing on both floors.
Nothing is free, everything is reasonably priced. I bought some bookcases today and spent a buck for a hank of rope ("Tot", with a long oh, hehe) to tie the trunk lid down. The engineering of the bookcases is magnificent, as was the packaging. For the money we'll get years of use out of them.
The only problem I have with Ikea is the lack of outrage about their corporate existance. I mean, if I'm going to shop at a globe-spanning mega-corporation, I want the guilty pleasure of being reviled for excessive and notable conspicuous consumption. I demand the sly satisfaction of knowing that I'm pissing off a commie or tree-hugger just because I've entered the store. I'm being denied the opportunity to annoy organized labor!
C'mon people, where's the hate?
I'm walking around the office today sans shoes, since they're still damp after being soaked in the deluge last night.
You were dying to know that, weren't you.
Saw it today on a tech forum:
The Internet: Where men are men, women are men, and children are FBI Agents.
Yep.
Three hours ago, Mookie and Mrs. Jones came home from a lucrative shopping trip. WalMart is getting rid of their fabric departments, and the ladies hit them hard at clearance prices. Much fabric was carted into the house.
Mookie just came downstairs to model a skirt she made. Red polka dots, side-zipper, and other sewish jargon that I don't understand was used. It looks good.
I asked her if it ever made her friends mad that she could whip out a skirt or purse in a couple of hours. She answered, "not really, but it really pisses 'em off when I do it without using a pattern."
Like this one. The girl got skilz.
So far this season...
Had the owner of the team come into the stands to shake hands and say "hello, thanks for coming" to every single person there. He even sat with some folks for a while, talking about things that could be improved at the ballpark.
After one evening game, as we walked back to the car we passed a guy in full kit, standing in the dark of the parking lot playing the bagpipes.
During a mid-week evening game - attendance less than 300 - we watched as the ushers made sure that every single kid in the stadium got a foul ball during the game.
Monday's are dollar night. Ticket to the grandstand, a buck. Hot dog, a buck. Not cheap dogs either, these are Hebrew National franks.
The astoundingly good fireworks after Saturday night games.
Hearing an announcement that goes something like, "Would the owner of a blue Honda Accent, license plate ABC-123 please report to the customer service booth... because you've got THE DIRTIEST CAR IN THE PARKING LOT!!!" They win a deluxe car wash from a local business. It's done every game, and I laugh like hell every time.
Cheering every game when the home team takes the field before the National Anthem, who are then joined by the players from one of the local little league teams.
The various renditions of the National Anthem. Not that bad, not that good (to quote Alabama). Once by an elementary school choir, another time by Miss Blue Ridge Mountains or some such. Got a lump in my throat when she dedicated the song to her dad, who was a reservist leaving for Afghanistan in a couple of weeks.
Singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game for the seventh inning stretch, followed by the theme song from SpongeBob Square Pants. I'm getting to know those words, too.
Dozens of little kids in their little league uniforms scrambling for every foul ball.
Watching pre-game warmups to various baseball-related songs interspersed with comedy bits like Abbot and Costello's classic Who's On First?
Baseball, played by guys who love the game. They're not getting rich at this level, and the odds are that they'll never get to the big show, but they hustle and play hard every single play.
Rocket Jones Recommendation: Try it, you might love it.
I'm sitting in the living room last night around 11pm, watching a movie (lesbian vampires, review coming soon), when I felt something land on me. I brushed it away without thinking. A few minutes later, it happened again. Almost immediately, again. Now, the thought did cross my mind that it could be a spider, but hey, I'm watching lesbian vampires, ya know?
I finally snagged whatever is was that was landing on me and looked at it, and it had wings. We've had mayfly hatchings where the dang things get into the house and are everywhere, but this didn't look like a mayfly. It looked like an...
Uh oh. Go turn on the light and then check the front door. Sunuvabitch! Ants!!! The tile floor in front of the door is covered with 'em, and I see scouts already making their way onto the carpet. The doorframe is alive with them and they're making their way along the wall as they expand their beachhead.
I'm really pissed off now. Heading into the basement to find some industrial grade ecologically-unsound ant fucker-upper, I'm wondering if wasp/hornet killer will do the job, because I *know* I've got two cans of that shit. What I found was an old pump spray bottle of ant killer for plants with about two inches of liquid in the bottom. I checked for an expiration date, but no luck.
Hoping that spraying the ants with this ancient chemical wouldn't make them grow to beagle size, I started in on them. Wonder of wonders, it was still potent enough to kill them and not just make them wet and angry. I spent the next couple of hours spraying and then waiting for the next wave to appear. It was like Normandy, except that I was the Kraut bastard in the pillbox staring over the sights of my machine gun, and there were no Captain Miller's in the invasion force.
At 3am, I used paper towels to mop up the last little corpses and sop the last puddles of insecticide from the floor. I also poured the last half inch of poison (that wouldn't pump) into the visible anthole. This afternoon I went out and bought ant baits to put around plus some long lasting ant-killer/repellent.
Nobody interrupts me when I'm watching lesbian vampires! A man's gotta have his limits.
A recent idea for a practical joke for when I hit the lottery, but first a quick setup: We live in a townhouse community, and each home is allotted one reserved parking space, with all extra spaces marked as "visitor" (first-come-first-served). Since nearly everyone has at least two cars, the visitor spaces are dear, especially ones near your house.
If I hit the lottery, on a Friday morning as people leave for work, I will call for PODS to be delivered, one for each open visitor space. Imagine the reactions when folks get home for the weekend to find all the extra parking taken up by these portable storage units.
Hilarity ensues.
For some, winning the lottery means they get the chance to buy special gifts for their folks or they can retire or donate big money to a favorite cause. For me, it provides the opportunity to be a prick. Grande.
Wife Liz said it best... "whirlwind" vacation. We had a great time, but it wasn't chock full o' rest and relaxation, despite my best intentions.
We saw Steely Dan in concert, and it was disappointing. Technically, they were very good (as expected) and very jazzy and improvisational (as expected), but the show was only about a dozen songs, each one stretched out by long solo runs. Liz is a casual fan and she didn't recognize anything they played until the seventh song, which is criminal when you consider how long they've been on the radio. There was almost nothing that you'd consider their "Greatest Hits". I enjoyed the heck out of it and would've been thrilled to see the show in a club, but when I pay concert prices I expect to hear familiar music done well, not the fifth song on side B of their second album from 1973.
As we were in line to get into the concert, they were patting folks down. At their request I started to empty my pockets, and the guy says, "you don't have any knives, do you?"
I said, "yes I do, my Swiss Army knife", and I pulled it out of my back pocket where it almost always resides.
After consultation with the head of security, I was told that I couldn't bring it into the concert arena. Ok, so I left Liz there - let them deal with her wheelchair clogging traffic, they're the ones causing the problem - and ran back to the parking garage to put my knife in the car. Back to the arena and the fool wants to pat me down again.
This time, I said, "excuse me, but I just ran back to my car and put the knife away. Do you really think I just wandered around for 10 minutes before coming back here to sneak in a knife that I voluntarily told you I had when you asked?"
I think that confused him. He waved me through. I didn't even want to get into the whole "weapon vs. tool" debate. Not the time nor place. Besides, only a wuss would classify a Swiss Army knife as a weapon.
We travelled to Staunton to visit daughter Mookie this weekend. She's taking a class on Directing in theatre this term and the final project was an evening of one-act plays. She and the other two young ladies each directed two plays, and it was an enjoyable evening. We were invited to and stayed after for the cast party.
Tomorrow, I work a half day and then the Mrs. and I are off for a week's vacation. I expect I'll have internet access along the way, but mostly I'll be relaxin' and recreatin'.
On Friday, I have a long-assed drive home, just in time to get to the mandatory Friday evening meeting for this year's Team America Rocket Challenge. That happens Saturday (rumor has it that the opening cermony flyby may be an F117 stealth fighter, woot!), and on Sunday I'll probably just do my comatose impersonation.
The sign on the door says "Men's Restroom", yet there's a sign next to the toilet reminding you not to flush your tampons, and a little biohazard box for disposal of things that shouldn't be flushed.
Because even though it's a "Men's Restroom", if that were strictly adhered to the room would be unused 99.5% of the time.
I left the seat up.
They first tried to pin the blame on Kirk for the assasination of Chancellor Gorkon and later implicated General Chang and Lt. Saavik among others, but recent evidence has surfaced to reveal the true masterminds behind the conspiracy to ignite a war that would span the galaxy.
Hasidic Klingons. Who knew?
In keeping with my new motto, "All the news, when I get around to it", I figure I'll post something on the new cold fusion technique later this week. Maybe. I've also got coverage of Lileks' reassignment penciled in for next week. Now, if you're in a hurry or have a thing for "timely" news, well then, I guess you're in the wrong place, eh?
Despite rather dicey weather yesterday, Liz and I went to the Potomac Nationals baseball game. Due to the Milbloggers conference in DC and other's schedule conflicts, we already knew that turnout would be light. Light, in this case, equals zero. Nobody else made it.
Along about the 5th inning, a very light drizzle started. A few umbrellas popped up here and there, but it never got worse than a light rain, and even then it was very brief.
The Nats were losing 4-2 at the top of the ninth when Liz and I decided to head for the car. Although we were taking the chance of missing a potential comeback for the home town boys, the thought of enjoying the fireworks from the comfort (and warmth) of our car in the parking lot was just too tempting to pass up. The fireworks once again were spectacular.
Victor and Nic have proposed June 16th for the Nationals vs. the Frederick Keys - in Frederick, Maryland. We'll have to check our calendar, but I'm almost certain that we'll be there for that one.
Today someone trotted out the tired argument about those "evil oil companies and their obscene profits".
Somehow, Starbucks (18.5%) and Google (69%!!!) get a free pass, yet the gas companies are supposed to give away their product because Joe Average doesn't want to pay market prices.
Milk costs a lot. When was the last time you saw a dairy farmer standing out front of the grocery store, giving out free half-gallons because he charges too much for milk?
Obscene prices? Have you seen what "organic" food sells for? Those freakin' hippies are robbing us blind.
Like they say, the longest journey starts with a single step, and this is a baby step to be sure. Still, it's a start. Measurable progress. And some day, when I rule the world with my invincible army of sharks with frickin' laser beams on their heads, you'll remember this and wonder how you could have been so blind.
I've already decided on my mini-me too.
He's the right shape, and has that vaguely disturbing smile that makes you wonder what he's been up to. I'm not sure about the color though... unless it's because he's jaundiced. Yeah, that's it. Jaundiced, in every sense of the word.
Someday, people.
Dear Baseball Player,
I assume that you get to pick the music that plays when you come up to bat. Please rethink your choice. Do you really want management to hear Dire Straits' Money for Nothing every time you step up to the plate?
Ted
Liz and I went to the Potomac Nationals game last night. Three bucks for parking, dollar admission and dollar hot dogs. Gotta love Monday night games.
For folks planning to attend the game this Saturday (May 5th), we're going to be sitting in section 8, in the handicapped seating. When you get to the stadium, ask for tickets in section 8, right behind the wheelchair spots. Seats in that section are $7.00, which leaves more money for beer. Don't forget the fireworks afterwards.
Phase 3 of my "Secret Plan to Increase Our Emergency Food Supply" is now complete.
Just kidding. We've officially adopted Ozzie the rabbit as our own. This points out the major flaw in the "Foster Care for Homeless Rabbits" idea, which is that we wind up falling in love with 'em and don't want to give them up.
I turned on the Vs. network this afternoon, looking for the hockey game, but instead they were showing professional Bull Riding. These guys are wearing helmets and face masks instead of cowboy hats. What the hell?
I rediscovered Madfish Willie's excellent banner rotation script yesterday, and remembered that I had modified it to display banners of differing sizes (like, oh, here!), but never implemented it on Rocket Jones.
Until now. I've installed the script, and have begun the process to add all the banners to the mix. So far, it's just eight of the early ones, and I'll add more as time allows this weekend. All told, there have been 45 banners flying over this site!
Hit refresh and you'll probably see a new banner. If not, try it again because you probably reloaded the same one again (random will do that sometimes).
Enjoy!
I'm sure there's an innocent explanation...
...but where's the fun in that?
"Ooooh yeah, Bossy... harder, harder... Tenderize that flank-steak!"
Snippet:
I'm not the King of Stupid, but I am on the ten-dollar bill.
The newest fad at the supermarket is "All Angus Beef". That's right, if you eat those inferior breeds of cow, you aren't getting "All Angus Beef", and that is supposed to make you feel uncomfortable in some vague way.
But what about those other poor inferior breeds of cow? Who's looking out for their feelings? What about their self-esteem? My God, you insensitive bastards, you could be permanently damaging their self-image! It's not their fault that they're born other than "All Angus Beef"! Who are you to judge that cow? Thanks to you, who knows what horror that poor bullied and picked upon cow could inflict upon an unsuspecting herd when he goes *Mad Cow*?!?!?!?!?!
See how fucking stupid that sounds?
Weather-wise, it was nice enough to (almost) make up for the lousy weekends we've had lately. Bright blue skies, gentle breezes, temps in the 70's... absolutely beautiful.
Saturday morning was spent sleeping in, which is something I almost never do. Once I dragged myself out of bed, we went to work in the front yard. Staking new trellises, planting things, fertilizing and readying the beds for the arrival of the new flowers. It was very pleasant and great therapy to help me relax after the stress of the work week (and it was a total bitch of a week at work).
On Saturday evening Liz and I went to see the Potomac Nationals take on the Frederick Keys. It was a pretty good game, and the handicap seating at the stadium is almost at field level, right behind third base. Not too shabby. I also realized that I wasn't shocked at the concession prices, mainly because for stadium prices, they weren't outrageous. My biggest problem at sporting events is that I forget that as soon as you buy that ticket, all prices are calculated in Italian lira but paid in American dollars.
The after-game fireworks show was glorious, and even better than last year. There were a lot of folks down from Maryland for the game - the Keys are a Baltimore Orioles farm club - and they were amazed at the show, and even more amazed that the fireworks are done every Saturday during the season.
On Sunday I took Liz up to Baltimore. Her and her sister are flying down to Florida (in the air as I type) for their parent's 50th anniversary. Brother-in-law just put his boat in the water on Saturday, so we spent a lazy afternoon cruising the Cheasapeake bay on their 32-footer. Three years after Hurricane Isabel put a hurt on the area, there are still many homes being repaired. A lot of hideous "McMansions" are going up too, as folks with money buy property from old-timers who couldn't afford to rebuild after the storm wiped out their retirement dreams. Danny has been boating in the area his whole life, and I loved his little bits of history and background story he dropped into the conversation. "Back in the 50's, that island had a small amusement park on it. Those pilings are all that's left of the railroad bridge that used to connect to the mainland." "Those houses are all less than five years old, and that bar has been there for at least thirty years. Live bands every weekend since forever. And now the new homeowners are raising hell about the noise."
Got home last night refreshed and recharged, but still not ready to go back to work. It's even harder when you know that it's just as nice out today as it was all weekend.
After spending most of a year swearing that I was going to plant boxwoods in the front of the house, eliminating the need for anything but an annual trimming and mulching, I ordered flowers for the front yard last week.
Not a shrub in the lot. What can I say? I'm a flower guy.
Two new clematis to share a new trellis, one pink and one white, hopefully their bloom season will be different enough to extend the color. I love clematis, and already have one growing in another bed.
In the bed along the front walk will be blue asters, white dragonflowers (variety of snapdragon and a Virginia native, according to the catalog), and pink "pincushion" flowers (a much nicer name than the scientific scabiosa.
The front bed is getting a hedge of lavender. Should smell wonderful, attract butterflies and maybe hummingbirds, and tons of bees too, to keep the (bleepin') neighborhood kids away so they'll quit teasing the dogs.
Not a simplification in the garden plan... not by a long shot. But, they're all perennials. I'll take my small victories when I find them. And the flowers this year should be gorgeous.
As I was finishing lunch at my desk, it dawned on me that I haven't had any meat since Wednesday.
When granny drives, all you can see through the back window is her hair and hands on the wheel as she peers over the dash.
When homey drives, all you can see through the back window is his do-rag and one hand on the wheel as he peers over the dash.
Either granny is hot shizzle, or homeboy looks like a silly fool. I know which way I'm leaning.
Hey there, friends and family! It's time for our 42nd Annual* Blogger Meet at the ballpark!!!
Invitations are going out to DC metro area friends and bloggers for the first blogmeet game of the year which will be Saturday, May 5th at 7:05pm as the Potomac Nationals take on the Wilmington Blue Rocks. After the game they have a pretty good fireworks show and you might even see Buckethead's son whack me in the jewels with a bat. Again.
No invitation? No problem! Just email me and I'll add you to the list. We've always managed to get a block of seats together ($9.00 a ticket), but that's not garaunteed (never can spell that word).
The P-Nats (I cringe every time I hear the team nickname) play in Woodbridge, Virginia, in Prince William County (directions here).
Liz and I will be going to the game this Saturday, May April 21st, if anyone is interested in meeting up. We're going to check out the wheelchair access seating and see what it's like.
Also, if anyone would like to set up something similar with another local minor league team, let's do it!
*42nd Annual? Yep. If 42 is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, then baseball is the answer to why we bother.
I updated some links in the sidebar for folks who've moved and pruned away a few dead branches.
I'm also (still) playing over at my Minx beta site.
I felt like crap all weekend and spent most of it sleeping and laying around.
The recently added "recently viewed" box over on the sidebar is longer than normal now, because I watched more movies than I usually get a chance to see. There will be at least one new movie review coming up too.
It's going to be ugly this year for the Washington Nationals baseball team. Fielding a team mostly comprised of cast-offs, wannabe's and never-were's, a lot of preseason pundits proclaim them the worst of the league this season. So far, they're playing like it.
I don't hate them, but I have no love for them either. For all the talk about how much baseball means to DC, the fact remains that on opening day they drew 40,000 in a 56,000 seat stadium. It's not going to get better, and they need a miracle of biblical proportions - ala the Amazin' Mets - just to reach up to the level of lousy. Opening day may well have been their high point for the next couple of seasons. So much depends on this new ownership.
...Last in the American National League.
Here's hoping for a Washington/Baltimore World Series in the very near future.
The forecast called for a little snow, more towards our end of the area. I woke up this morning to about an inch of the fluffy white stuff. It's already mostly gone now, but the return of cold weather means I get major snuggles all night. And when the dog moves, I can cuddle my wife.
Over on the sidebar I've added a blip that lists the last few movies that I've watched. Where possible, I'll include links to IMDB or other reviews.
For the complete collection of reviews, articles and posts about those crappy movies that I love so much, check out the Rocket Jones Cult Flick Archives.
A lot of people say they don't hate Wal-Mart, per se, it's the Wal-Mart customers that they can't stand. We went last night and that was an apt description.
My wife brought up that in our experience, compared to suburban Wal-Mart's, the small town Wal-Marts are friendlier and less likely to be overrun by the freak show. In her words, "less teeth, more genuine smiles". That too is an apt description.
Smalltown, USA might have the occasional oddball or two, but suburbia has more of them packed into a given area and they all want to shop at Wal-Mart. At that level of concentration, we don't call them 'eccentric', we call them assholes.
True story: Checkout lines were very long and slow, and I'm standing behind some guy and his wife. Among the items in their cart was a package of some sort of Easter candy, you know, six or eight individually wrapped chocolate whatevers. After a while, he opens the package, unwraps a candy and eats it. Several minutes later he eats another, and then another. They finally get to the checkout, and he was disappointed that the scanner charged him full price for the half-empty package of candy.
His wife proudly crowed, "see? Told'ja!"
Judging by the amount of Easter candy in their cart, I think it's too late to prevent them from breeding.
There's a screech owl that lives in the woods behind our house. I don't know if it's an actual screech owl, but if I were naming owls then this one would definitely get that name. It sounds like a man in abject terror, and the throat-ripping scream is cut off mid-sound as if he were suddenly decapitated.
Eerie and disturbing. Frequent too. I've kinda grown to love it.
I have my Windows installation set up to check for updates and let me know when new ones are available. I don't let it do automatic updates.
This evening I finally got around to looking at the update that had been sitting there for a couple of days. A helpful text box popped up explaining that this latest oh-so-very important update would scan my computer and if my copy of Windows was bootlegged, then a friendly message would appear periodically to remind me to upgrade to legal software.
Now if I have a legal version of Windows installed (I do), why would I need it? And if it's a bootlegged copy, why would I let you install an update to annoy me about it? I guess they're going after the dishonest *and* stoopid people out there.
No thanks. Cancel install.
Paraphrasing a radio commercial I heard this morning on the radio:
An important piece of the news that lets you understand the whole story, that's information. At Washington Post Radio, we only give you what you need to know, to understand the world around you.
No pretense there. They'll tell you everything you need to know. Too many supposedly well-informed people get all their "information" from one source, because it's easier and faster than dealing with contrasting viewpoints or hearing both sides of a story. That thinking stuff is hard.
Rachael: You need a polka dot tie. Polka dots are in.
Dad: I do have a polka dot tie, but the dots are very small.
Rachael: How big doesn't matter, just the fact that they're there.
Dad: Kind of like a penis.
Rachael: Growing up in this house has already psychologically scarred me, you can stop now.
No matter, the universe is in balance.
Daughter Robyn came home for the weekend yesterday and brought along her new dog, Army (short for Armando). That makes three dogs running around, which matches the current number of rabbits in the house (Fred, Java and Ozzie). Now that Rachael is on her way home for the weekend, I will have all three kids underfoot as well.
Three. Three. Three. Half the number of the beast. Satan light.
Mu.Nu has been swamped the last couple of days with comment spam, which means that our filters have been working overtime to defend the virtual ramparts. Unfortunately, this means that quite a few of you have been unable to leave comments, and I appreciate the emails I've gotten with feedback and letting me know that there's a problem. My apologies for the frustration, and know that we're just as sick of it as you are.
Minx will be up and running soon, beta test-wise, and I've been working on a new XML <Electrocute Spammer> tag, but it's not quite functional yet.
I feel sympathy for those folks who are starting to lose their homes because they took out adjustable mortgages. That's a bad situation to be in. I just didn't realize that they were all stupid. I figured that they had gambled that rates would stay low, and lost that bet. Or maybe they miscalculated just how much rates would rise and how it would affect their ability to pay.
Today I heard a news report that actually told me that these poor people were in the position they are because they didn't understand how an adjustable mortgage worked.
So these unfortunate borrowers - who, by the way, initiated contact with these evil lending institutions - were forced to sign enormous documents in multiple places in the presence of lawyers without anyone making an effort to explain what the conditions were in order to borrow tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars.
See what I mean? These folks were stupid! They didn't know enough to ask questions. They didn't *understand*! They're victims.
Like I said, I feel sorry for them because it's a lousy situation to be in. But not sorry enough to think we (as in the taxpayers) should bail them out. And if their credit is ruined for a while, then maybe it's better that way because they're obviously not ready to play with the adults in the real financial world.
Update: Over at Wizbang!, new contributor Jayson Javitz provides an insider's look at the looming "Mortgage Tsunami". It's worth checking out.
When the World Trade Center collapsed, not quite 3,000 people died. That's a big number, but not really inconceivably big*. It's human nature to generalize when the scope of death is that big. It's easier to get our minds around it when the numbers are rationalized into "a whole lot". But by doing that we collectively dull the pain and outrage by reducing it to a statistic.
Benton City, Washington. Population 2,790.
Could you make the decision to kill every man, woman and child in that town? The terrorists on 9/11 made just such a choice.
The victims that day weren't all American citizens. They came from more than a score of countries. They all contributed in their own way to the modern world, from the executives in the boardrooms to the illegal alien bussing tables in the restaraunts.** They shared one trait, they were collectively hated because of where they lived and worked.
Holden, Maine. Population 2,827.
Can you even conceive of something that would make you so angry that you would be willing to murder thousands? Not thousands of soldiers or another group of people who've wronged you, just several thousand randomly selected innocent targets.
Sedgewick County, Colorado. Population 2,747.
Imagine waking up one morning knowing that you were going to commit mass murder. How perverted is your worldview to even allow consideration of such an act?
The people who died in the attacks that day represented many varied belief systems and religions, and no doubt more than a few were followers of Islam. Not that it mattered, because the object was mass destruction and death, and the who that died mattered less than the why of it to the terrorists.
Today, followers of that same perverted vision of religion are intentionally murdering civilians in Iraq. Somehow, it's gotten all turned around that it's America's fault. If you can, please explain to me how anything America has ever done can make it morally acceptable to choose to walk into a crowded public place and detonate explosives strapped to your body.
And if those numbers are too large and impersonal for you, how about the latest car bombing in Iraq, where terrorists detonated a car bomb with two children inside it. The children were there to lure the checkpoint soldiers into letting their guard down.
Godless, subhuman savages. Anyone who believes that it is possible to negotiate with such as that is a fool. The terrorists have been clear about what they want, and you can make the choice for yourself. You can choose to live under their twisted form of slavery, or you can fight and keep fighting so that you and your children can live as free people. You cannot choose compromise, because the terrorists do not recognize the possibility.
* That number seems even less threatening considering the number of dead in the last tsunami, but that natural event points out that on our worst days, mankind is a piker compared to what Mother Nature can do to us.
** I guess the politically correct term would be "undocumented immigrants" but "illegal aliens" is more technically correct. There are substantiated reports that at least a few lost their lives that day. I mourn for them as I do for everyone who died in the attacks, but I'm not going to sugarcoat their legal status.
Y'all might want to re-read the chapters of my story, "Zombies of Autumn", just to refresh your memory of what's already been posted.
Just sayin'. ;)
Why is it that when I want onion rings with real onion "rings" inside I have to buy gourmet-style? If you buy regular onion rings, they're ring-shaped breaded minced onion.
Chip in with your examples.
Did you know that they make synthetic saliva? My wife Liz recently started using it on her doctor's recommendation because one of her new medications just sucks the moisture out of her mouth.
Saliva is a vital component of such everyday processes as tasting, swallowing, speech and digestion, and its absence is what leads to dry mouth. A reduction in salivary flow can occur for a number of reasons, but medication use is a key contributor.
Of course, in our family we call it "pseudo-drool" or just "fake spit".
(mental note: brownie-flavored saliva for dopers...niche market but has potential)
I've been fighting a cold for almost a week now. Tomorrow I *have* to be at work, so I called in today to get some much-needed rest. Mmmmmmm... Nyquil.
I cringe when I hear about people who are "writing the last chapters of their lives" or similar sentiments.
Bullshit.
I don't care how old I get, my life story (like anyone would ever actually write it, let alone read it) would be going along great guns and then abruptly end in mid-sentence.
Because if yours doesn't, then you wasted at least some of the precious gift that life is. Or even worse, you gave up too soon.
Someone, somewhere along the line, seriously screwed up with my laptop. I took it in to the repair shop today because it no longer recognized the CD-ROM drive. I should get it back, good as new, in two weeks.
The warrantee doesn't expire for another month and a half.
Although the forecast has been changing constantly for the last couple of days, what was supposed to be sleet and rain turned into over four inches of wet, heavy snow.
Power was out for not quite two hours (I took a nap), and it looks like it's warming up a little bit now. Not a good thing, if it all re-freezes overnight. Tomorrow morning is looking to be a lovely commute.
Last night my beloved San Jose Sharks were in town to play the Washington Capitals. You may recall that my wife had gotten us a pair of tickets for the game and gave them to me as a Christmas present (quite kick-ass, I must say).
In the extended entry is the low-down on the evening, for those so inclined to read all about it. But here I'd like to point out the odd coincidence that of the last three hockey games I've gone to, each has gone to overtime and then a shootout, and each time the team I wanted to win did just that.
If you'd like me to attend a hockey game for your favorite team, I'm sure we can arrange something.
I left work a little early yesterday so that I could drive home and pick up Liz. The plan, which worked almost perfectly, was to park in Rosslyn (I have a monthly pass), metro over to the Verizon Center early enough to have some dinner, and then enjoy the game.
We were hoping that Victor would be able to join us for dinner, but he got stuck at work and we didn't see him until the break between the first and second periods.
Before I get to the game itself, I'd like to tell you here and now that I don't have a lot of good things to say about DC, but one thing that they do right is the metro. Schedules and weather conspired to keep us from doing a dry run beforehand, and I was a tad concerned about how smoothly it would go since we'd be using metro for the first time with her in her wheelchair.
We hit a snag immediately upon entering the first metro station, namely, that after using our fare cards to get through the turnstiles, we were confronted with four escalators leading down. No elevator in sight. We asked the station employee in the kiosk about where the elevator was hidden and found out that the elevator is located across the street from the station! His solution was practical, we exited the station, crossed the street, took the elevator down to the station proper and at the turnstiles I just manually opened them up and we walked through. This set off an alarm, but he was expecting it and immediately shut it off. No problem.
This is typical of my experiences with metro. They aren't about fussing, they're about solving the problems you have, immediately and with minimum hassle. Every time.
Even other passengers on the trains were cool about our circumstances. Because of the design of most chairs and the station platforms, the best way to enter and exit the trains are backwards (to keep from throwing one of the little wheels in front). Sometimes that involved clearing a space on the platform to swing around, or even on a train full of commuters. Not one complaint and nothing but cooperation. Thanks commuters, y'all did yourself proud.
The seats at the arena were awesome. We sat in the handicap row, which meant a comfortable folding armchair for me and a gap for Liz to park her chair. We were right up against the rail, so the view was unobstructed, even when folks in front of us stood up (like during the shootout). We were a little higher than the rink glass, and just behind the goalie's left shoulder, giving us a long view of the ice. I love sitting at the side of the rink, but seeing the game from the end gives you an appreciation of how much crosswise movement goes on. Try it sometime for a different point of view.
As for the game, what can I say? The Caps jumped out to a quick two goal lead. My beloved Sharks came back to tie it up and in overtime Nabokov stonewalled Ovechkin and Semin before Cheechoo tossed a backhander high over Johnson's shoulder to win it.
I was pleasantly surprised to see many Sharks fans there, way more than I expected. That was the common thread, as my wife (and others) pointed around and said "see, you aren't the only one here tonight".
The ride home was long and slow, thanks to interstate construction, and my butt is definitely dragging today after way too little sleep. Well worth it though.
Thanks Liz, for one of the bestest Christmas presents ever!
This morning in the parking garage, I'm walking towards my exit when a young man in a little car pulls into an open space in front of me. I don't know if he's showing off or what, but he hits the gas halfway into his turn and smacks head-on into the concrete wall behind the parking slot.
I asked him if he was all right and got glared at for my trouble. I was tempted to ask him where his mental handicap hang tag was.
This morning on radio traffic, I heard about an exploding manhole that had traffic blocked downtown. This is unusual for two reasons. First, this normally happens in Georgetown, not downtown proper, and secondly it's too early in the season for exploding manholes. This isn't supposed to start until springtime.
I've never heard of such a thing happening in any other city. Is this just a local phenomenom?
Update: Rob, over at Left & Right, is the man to see about DC's 'sploding manholes.
If I were elected Pope, I'd change my name to Methusela I.
It couldn't hurt.
If you're planning a quiet evening watching a movie together, don't pick War of the Roses.
Spent an eventful weekend visiting Robyn and her new husband Henry. Well, that was the excuse, anyways. The real reason we travelled to Norfolk was for minor league hockey.
Liz discovered that President Bush was going to be visiting Williamsburg on Saturday, which is right on our way. In order to avoid any potential traffic problems caused by security around the decider-in-chief, we took an alternate route which made for a beautiful drive through the countryside.
After spending the afternoon visiting, we headed downtown to see the Norfolk Admirals play the Philadelphia Phantoms. This was Henry's first live hockey game.
The people at the arena (Scopes?) were really nice, but I was truly pissed off about the accomodations for the handicapped. We wound up on the lower parking level, and the only way to the entrance was to go up the vehicle ramp, where we almost got run over by a cop! He was insisting that there was an elevator, and we were insisting that the damn thing was inside a locked foyer and not accessible. Once inside, the staff listened to my complaints and did their own check and sure enough, the parking elevator was locked up. Odd thing is, nobody there had a key to unlock it, because it was mainly for the adjoining theater. I can't believe that they've never encountered this situation before, and it took me a while to calm down.
So anyway, game time. The Admirals are in the middle of a great season, so the arena was better than 3/4 full. They're a farm team for the Chicago Black Hawks, and we enjoyed spotting the various incarnations of the Admirals uniforms from years past. They've changed logos a couple of times, and back a few years ago their team colors were blue and gold, which made for really good looking jerseys. Now they wear Chicago's red, black and gold.
I'd heard that minor league hockey had been tamed. No fights, no hitting. Let me tell you, NOT TRUE! In the first few minutes of the game two guys dropped their gloves, threw off the helmets and went at it. As usual, the refs waited until they fell to the ice in a heap to break it up. After the next face off, two more guys did the same thing. The place was going wild! There were a couple of scrums later on and quite a bit of pushing and shoving, but that was it for the fights.
As for hitting, there were some hellacious hits. Norfolk is a smaller and faster finesse team but they dished out more than they took during the game.
My biggest problem with the Admirals is that they tended to make one pass too many. I screamed myself hoarse to put the damn puck on the net as they repeatedly passed up shots to try to make the perfect set up. As expected with minor league hockey, the skill level was a shade below what you're used to seeing in the NHL. Passes just missed, or if they did hit the tape weren't controlled well. Lots of "oops, forgot something" moments as they frantically hit the brakes and tried to reverse to gather up a missed puck.
No matter, the game was fun and we'll be doing it again soon. I wish we lived closer, because season tickets would be great. Oh yeah, lower section tickets were $16.00. Can't beat that. The title of this post is a combination of what was announced as a Phantoms player left the penalty box - "Philadelphia is at full strength" - the crowds hollered response each time - "AND YOU STILL SUCK!". Cracked me up.
The Admirals came back from two down to tie it up 3 all. No score in the overtime, and the Admirals took the shootout to win it.
On Sunday, Liz and I stopped at Williamsburg Pottery on the way home. This place is amazing, like a super-duper yardsale/flea market/k-mart/dollar store/nursury. Laid out in a sprawling jumble of buildings, you can easily spend hours there just looking around - and we did. Imagine your local craft store, which is probably pretty large if you're near one of the big chains. Now imagine that store if it sold nothing but baskets. That's one department at Williamsburg Pottery. Cool place. I picked up some smoked salt and rice vinegar in the gourmet section, along with a few other odds and ends for the kitchen.
So all in all we had a very enjoyable weekend.
Heh. I just heard from Robyn, who was up early doing homework after Henry left for work. He wants to go to the hockey game this Friday.
Later I'll get a chance to tell you about our wonderful weekend, but for now, in no particular order:
1. Charities that don't pick up when they say they will. You called and asked if we had anything to donate. As a matter of fact, we did. So, per your instructions, we packed up two boxes of stuff, put signs on them and set them out by the curb. Your people didn't bother to come by and the wind made short work of the plastic we'd covered the boxes with, so now tomorrow the trash guys get to haul off two soggy boxes of crap. Next time you call, you're going to get an earfull along with a request to take us off your calling list.
2. Did you know that a black coach won the Superbowl? Yeah, big whoop to most of America, both black and white. Thanks though, to those idiots who repeatedly whacked me over the head with the diversity shit all night long. Broadcasters (2a. Phil Simms is an annoying ass) and advertisers alike. In this day and age, we're supposed to be past the race thing. Note it once and get over it. By the way, congratulations to both Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith for getting their teams to the big game. Y'all are tops.
3. Rascal Flats. To me, their music sounds manufactured, like they're the Back Street Boys of country music. I was flipping through the stations this morning and heard their version of "Life Is A Highway" from the movie Cars. Gack. I'd rather listen to the Laurence Welk version, it would have more soul. I think I know where the Menudo rejects go when they reach puberty.
That would be me. There has been lots going on so far this bright and shiny new year, both good and otherwise, and free time in order to crow and/or gripe about it here at Rocket Jones has been drastically reduced.
As the new routine settles in, I'll probably find more time to write. I realize that I've posted excuses for not posting twice now in January, believe me when I say that they're a good way to bump up the ol' productivity stats.
You always know you're in trouble food-wise when you meet this scenario:
Day 1: Stuffed shells.
Day 2: Stuffed Shells
Day 3: Pasta Bake... And they don't even bother cutting the stuffed shells up.
Just some hits I've noticed over the last week or so...
Doug Pratt mentions an apparent shortage of Pyrodex pellets. Pyrodex is a black powder substitute used by muzzle-loader enthusiests that isn't regulated nearly as strongly as the regular stuff. We use the pellets to pre-heat the fuel grain in our hybrid rocket motors. I need some, but haven't been looking too hard (WalMart hasn't had them though, which is unusual around hunting season). Good thing we can get them through Amazon. Gotta love it.
Zoe Brain links to some cool history of the space program you might never have heard of, the UK space program.
Just because Rutan and crew won the X-Prize doesn't mean the other competitors packed it in. Check out the latest test flight video from the Blue Origins team.
JohnL has links for Blue Origins too.
What goes up must come down. EDog has video of a Russian satellite that re-entered the atmosphere and broke up over Colorado.
Rockets are cool. Check out these links and you'll see for yourself.
The wife and I are off for a week or so. Our original plan worked to perfection, we made reservations in four places geographically far apart, so that if a blizzard hit the midwest, we'd go north. If one of those innumerable killer hurricanes hit New England, then we'd head south. Nor'easter? No problem, we'd vacation inland.
Once the weekly weather was examined, we cancelled three sets of plans and are headed to Atlantic City (second choice, actually) for shopping, gambling, and lots of doing absolutely nothing. Our hotel does have high speed internet, but I really shouldn't use my laptop from the in-room hot tub, so I'm not sure how much you'll hear from me.
Catch ya later.
Update: Liz still amazes me. We checked into the hotel, got settled in and then went to a casino for a while. We had a nice dinner and then I watched (as usual, I seldom gamble) as Liz played the nickel slots and walked away with $300. She plays for fun, but it's always more fun when you win.
An excellent observation from Brian J Noggle.
That popping you felt in your ears was caused by the massive collective yawn of America.
I haven't mentioned the bestest Christmas presents I got, both from my wife. She ordered a large San Jose Sharks embroidered logo from the NHL shop, and then sewed it onto the chest of a super-comfy fleece hoody (in black, of course). It looks goooooood.
And where would a fan wear his cool new hoody? Why, to the hockey game on February 21, when my beloved San Jose Sharks come to town to play the Washington Capitals, of course! We'll be in section 116, row U. Wooot!!!
I hurt my back last Friday, and I've been moving at 33 1/3 in a 78 world ever since, trying to keep up. Unfortunately, life hasn't been overly cooperative, so what little free time I've had this week has been spent catching up on things that could be put off a little while, but not indefinitely.
Look for an upcoming movie review or two, and posting frequency will increase as I get back up to speed. You've been warned.
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Hmmmm, weird. On some browsers (including my IE at work) the posts are all empty boxes down to halfway through the Japanese Movie Monster post. On others, everything appears to be fine.
The only change is the new banner up top, so I'll be digging through the ol' template to look for clues.
Some TV show came on yesterday that touted the ten worst extreme ski accidents or some such. Near the top of the list was a guy who basically fell over three cliffs as he careened down the face of a mountain. It was ugly, and his unconcscious body finally slid to a stop almost a minute later and several hundred feet down from where his tumble started.
The announcer stated that the guy suffered multiple severe lacerations and had "shattered" his leg in three places. Then, in the next breath, we're informed that just eight weeks later the skier was back in competition. I guess it was a minor shatter.
Next, they have an interview with the guy. I'm paraphrasing here because it was so incredibly stupid that I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I wasn't worried about extreme skiing again because, I mean, I'd fallen off a mountain. What are the odds that it would happen again, y'know?"
We live in a society where you can make a career of being a Darwin Award candidate.
As usual, Mookie gave Dad uber-cool presents for Christmas. The banner above shows a few of the figures from the Horrified B-Movie Victims Figure Set.
We commoners call it a relish tray or just veggie snacks, but the proper term for it is pronounced just like the title above. I'd heard the word, I knew what it meant, but I'd never seen it spelled out before.
I now take great pleasure in pronouncing it phonetically.
Cruddites.
The family was very, very nice to me this year.
The Rocket Jones movie library increased by several, including Jack Nicholson's Goin' South (one of my all-time favorites), the exploitation classic I Spit On Your Grave, several oldies (some starring Bela Lugosi) and including the wonderfully abysmal Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, and Universal's Wolfman Legacy Collection. I also wound up with the complete television series Buffalo Bill.
In print, I got the Zombie Survival Guide, and for my listening pleasure Frank Zappa's ThingFish.
More later. Been busy marrying off my kid and all, don't'cha know.
Merry Christmas to all, and may you have a safe and wonderful holiday!
This will probably be the last post before Christmas. Tomorrow morning we pack up and head down to Norfolk. Saturday is daughter Robyn's wedding, and on Sunday morning the whole wedding party will be travelling back to our house for Christmas Eve and Christmas day, at least. Lots of celebrating, lots of cooking and eating, joy and all that happy crap.
See y'all next week.
A trite saying that has more than a grain of truth to it.
A few nights ago there was a murder up the street. A guy that I'd seen around (he owned a lawn-care business) was shot and killed in the middle of the street. Details were sparse, other than that he was shot in the back of the head.
This bothered me for obvious reasons, but mostly because it seemed so random. We live in a pretty good neighborhood. A robbery didn't make sense since he was shot in the back of the head. Drug dealing was possible, and gang related violence wasn't inconceivable, but something about the whole thing just didn't add up.
Until yesterday, when the local paper finally published their story. Long time readers may remember back in 2003 when we had another murder about six doors up from our house. It was probably over drugs, but the gist of it is that two guys walked up to the living room window and shot the wrong guy inside to death. Then they jumped into a car driven by a third guy and sped away.
All three were caught, and the two shooters are serving looooong sentences behind bars. The driver did some sort of plea-bargain thing with the cops, and did little, if any time.
You know where this is going, right?
The guy murdered the other night was the driver of that car. Knowing that, the story seems less random. Maybe it was payback, that's certainly a plausible motive. And in an odd way, it has actually eased my worries some.
Reap what you sow. Home to roost. Goes around, comes around. Those aren't just quaint, empty phrases.
A recent exchange after I did a little online Christmas shopping.
Me: Honey, I just bought some stuff online. Don't look too closely at it. (she handles the banking)Liz: How much did you spend?
Me: One hundred ten dollars and change.
Liz: Whoa, that's a lot!
Me: Well, porn is expensive.
Liz: So is a trip to the emergency room if you aren't kidding.
I love my wife.
Thus begins a comment to a post I made back in February of 2005, titled "WalMart is the United States of the Retail Universe".
And then, one morning, I get this:
I don't understand any good reason to defend Walmart on philosophical grounds. Maybe if you own the hacienda you have the free time to think of bogus arguments to defend your villainy. Then one day the workers find other uses for the tools.
Now, I see several ways to respond to this. But the simplest is to say, "Fuck off, commie."
(Note: this was an old post that's been sitting in my "draft" folder for a long time. This morning, I'm in the mood to finish it.)
Java is an 11 month old female rabbit that we're taking care of for a while.
Beautiful, isn't she? She's a sweetheart too.
We hope that her and Fred will take a liking to each other and become a bonded pair. For now she has her own cage and they're getting used to each other gradually, through the mesh of an exercise pen. Java is a bit bigger than Fred, and almost as large as our little dog, Trix.
Once Java and Fred become buds (they're both fixed, so there will be no little surprises), then they can move in together and then we can begin to foster-care for another bunny or pair. The animal rescue group that we're working with, Bunny Lu, does outstanding work and last year placed 105 rabbits in permanent homes. Unfortunately, they've got more rescued rabbits than homes, and it's just getting worse, which is why we volunteered to temporarily keep a couple more on an as-needed basis.
So far, so good. Her appetite is definitely there (she's eats a lot more than Fred), and that's a good sign. She also plays more with toys, whereas Fred is mostly the explorer type. From what we've been told, Java is somewhat of an escape artist and a jumper, so we're keeping her in a 4 foot tall exercise pen during the day to keep her from going up and over. Her and Fred and the dogs have been checking each other out through the mesh of the pen, and there've been no problems.
A year ago I had no idea that my wife had always wanted a rabbit, and now we've got two with plans to board more. Life is strange. If you're lucky.
November is almost over and I've accomplished not a single damn word on either of my NaNoWriMo projects. Giant Evil Space Robots remain locked inside my skull and the other story awaits some literary breathing space.
Where I work now, my normal schedule is cyclical. I have a very busy week, followed by an insanely busy week. That rhythm is broken only during the rush leading to the turnover of the fiscal year, with a lull - such as it is - until the rush at the end/beginning of the calendar year. This year there was no letup. The ramp-up started in mid-August and we haven't slowed down yet.
Professionally, it's been fun. It's certainly not been boring. Add in the many things that have been going on in our personal lives, and Rocket Jones has been neglected. At some point, things will calm down a little and I can get back to tending my little garden of inanity like I used to. Until then, this place hasn't been abandoned, even though the posting frequency is way down.
"Always leave 'em wanting more." Someone famous said that. Maybe Linda Lovelace. I forget.
The world is never surreal enough to suit me.
My idea, my photoshop (neither of which is all that).
I just saw a commercial on TV for a one-message digital recorder. As usual, the entire commercial is snark-worthy, especially how everyone using the audio reminder nods and smiles as they listen to themselves.
But it dawned on me that this little wonder is the ultimate in lazy-assed remote control. Just record yourself clapping, and then you can play it when walking into a room and all your clapper-attached lights will go on. Oh, wait. They already have something like that. It's called a light switch.
Liz exercised her woman's perogative (translation: she changed her mind) about the dining room set we had selected, but not yet purchased. Her reasoning was sound, and I was gracious and understanding when I found that we would need to go out for more furniture shopping (translation: "Again? Jeez, I thought we... Fine. Whatever. Get your coat. Of course I'm not mad. Am I acting mad? Well, no, I'm not mad.")
We had a good laugh at one store when the saleslady informed us that they offered "midget delivery". I cracked up, knowing that I couldn't have heard that right, and Liz translated the accent for me. "Midget delivery" equals "immediate delivery". Now you know.
It struck me that I've been rather fortunate in my life when it comes to seeing legendary sports figures in action. I grew up in the San Fransisco bay area (long before it became the silly-con valley) and saw Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, Willie McCovey and others play at Candlestick. Bobby Bonds too, who was a phenominal talent in his own right, before his son became all that written in all capital letters, italicized, underscored and possibly asterisked (depending on your viewpoint).
Across the bay there were the Oakland A's of Rick Monday and Reggie Jackson, Vida Blue and Rollie Fingers. I saw them during their year of the big mustache, and they were colorful even without the kelly and gold uniforms. I saw Rod Carew, Tony Oliva and Harmon Killebrew when the Twins came to town.
On the lower pantheon of legends were Charlie O'Connell, Joanie Weston, Ann Calvello and Alvin Mallory of Roller Derby fame. Do a little googling, and then tell me those guys (and gals) weren't amazing.
Back in SF was Joe Montana and Jerry Rice (after a long and painful drought when the Niner's weren't very good) and Darryl Lamonica, George Blanda and Ken Stabler (to name only the QBs in silver and black) led an always entertaining cast of misfits and characters which existed as one of the most successful sports stories for almost three decades.
Now living in the Washington D.C. metro area, we've had the treat of seeing Michael Jordan in his post-Bulls days. Still legendary, and although diminished it wasn't enough to tarnish the career.
Baltimore offered us Cal Ripken and Eddie Murray, both of whom I shall tell my grandchildren about.
And now, much like those fortunate enough to live in Edmonton during Gretzgy's reign, or Pittsburgh while Mario was on the ice in his prime (or the Steelers during the *spit* "Steel Curtain" *spit* years), I have the opportunity to see a very rare talent in action. I got to see Alex Ovechkin play hockey for the Washington Capitals live last year, and countless times on local television. Folks, if he comes to town, take advantage and see this kid play. Amazing, and it's not hype to say that he belongs with the legendary names mentioned above.
I need to snag tickets for the Caps/Penguins for the chance to see Ovechkin and Semin, Crosby and Malkin playing all at once. That's one for the ages, and happens not too rarely thanks to hockey scheduling.
For the record, I dislike Sydney Crosby for no real reason other than the fact that the NHL handed him the throne before he played a single minute on the big ice. He's earning star status, but not *the* star, and I find it hilarious that he's been referred to as "Captain of the Canadian Diving Team". Hopefully, he'll be whistled for some penalties that will disabuse him of that shoddy habit, but I worry that "the star" will come to expect calls to go his way as he tries to draw penalties. Anyway, he's exciting to watch and a genuine talent and I don't like him. Maybe I'll mellow in time, but I'll for sure go to see him while I have the chance.
This weekend my wife and oldest daughter Robyn bought their dresses for the upcoming wedding. Instead of a long, drawn-out ordeal travelling from store to store looking for *the* dress, each found what they were looking for at the very first places they went. For an occasion like this, you don't mind spending the money (Liz and Robyn were a little afraid to tell me what the wedding dress cost, but when they did I was relieved because it was much less than I had prepared myself for).
That's the good.
On Friday, the kitchen floor people came out and removed the new floor that they had botched. Somehow, somewhy, when they moved the stove to get at the floor underneath, instead of removing the temperature probe from the oven, they took the readout from the counter and tossed it inside. That night, I went to preheat the oven and was almost overcome from the fumes as that plastic readout unit melted and made a huge mess in the bottom of my brand new oven. A half hour of scraping and scrubbing got it out, but I was *not* a happy camper.
Yesterday the subfloor guy showed up to fix the problem that contributed to the screwed up installation of the floor. He had given me a ballpark estimate of the cost based on what we could tell him because he didn't want to cut the floor up ahead of time. He was concerned that with Liz on a cane, it would leave him open to liability if she tripped on it. He came highly recommended by several people, and I was prepared to fork over the top end of his estimate, while hoping it would be closer to the low end.
No such luck. After an hour of looking at what needed to be done, I finally asked what it would cost to do the job right (instead of the cheaper mickey-mouse alternatives that we'd been discussing). I knew what really needed to be done, but he didn't want to have to say it.
Ouch.
Well, it's done. It's beautiful, as much as a sub-floor can be beautiful. He was a craftsman, as carpenters go, and in the end the new floor will be better for it. Tomorrow the kitchen people show up again and install the new floor. That part of it (removal and install new) is free for us, because they goofed the original. Liz will be watching like a hawk, because she's still pissed that it had to be redone. Plus, now she knows what a good job should look like.
So we've spent our 3-day weekend with more contractors making a mess in the house, and spent way more money than was originally planned, but that's ok. Robyn's wedding dress is absolutely beautiful, and Liz is gorgeous in her new dress.
There are 3 shelves tucked into each back corner of our shower, and this morning I noticed something.
My wife has two shelves for her various bottles. My son has a shelf with two bottles. Rachael has a shelf with multiple bottles, even though she's away at school. I have a single shelf, with a single bottle of shampoo. The dogs have a single shelf, with a single bottle of shampoo.
Means nothing, but I'm glad that the dog's shelf and mine are nowhere near each other, lest some half-awake morning I wind up citrus fresh and flea-free.
This morning on the radio there were two different reports of deer being hit by cars. By coincidence, last night I was watching part of the Blue Collar Comedy show and heard this bit:
You want to hunt deer? Here's my suggestion: take the bullet, slow it down to 55mph and put headlights and a horn on it, and I promise you, the danged deer will jump in front of it.
I think he's on to something.
Last night I installed Apache, PHP and MySql on yet another PC in the house. I also added Komodo because it's an editor that I'm used to. Every time I do all this, I wind up swapping machines with some other family member because they need the newer features on the one I'm using. At this rate, I'll be looking for versions that run on Windows 3.1.
That idea was rejected after considering what it would do to our grocery bill.
Whew, where to start? It's been busy busy busy lately. Here's a suggestion, if you meet someone who works in your payroll group, and you've been paid lately, buy them lunch or give 'em a hug or oral sex or something. Trust me, these folks have earned it!
On the home front, Liz just got back yesterday from a week in Norfolk with oldest daughter Robyn. My life has consisted of work, coming home and cooking, and then falling asleep in front of a hockey game or one of my beloved crappy horror movies. It isn't often that it takes me three evenings to finish watching an hour and a half movie.
Not much beyond that, I guess. Too busy to blog. Too busy to *write*! My NaNoWriMo ambitions this year were completely wiped out by about 9am on November 1st. I do hope to still do some work for the Giant Evil Space Robots anthology (is that still on?).
So hang in there, and I'm doing the same. Posting will resume on a regular basis just as soon as the lithium kicks in as is practical. I've been surfing a bit and reading y'all, if you don't notice, it's because I wipe my feet before coming in. Mama taught me right.
The youngest dog got a haircut today. Desperately needed, he was starting to look like the love child of a rastafarian dust mop and a gordian knot. So Liz sat down, shortened up his leash, and had at it with the scissors, electric trimmer and shop vac.
At some point the goofy mutt took a snap at the scissors as Liz worked, and got his tongue cut. Bled like hell for a while, and he drove Liz crazy as he wanted to give himself a bath, leaving himself a bloody mess.
That was all done and over with by the time I got home, or so we thought. As I cooked dinner, I looked down at the dogs and saw Trix sitting there in a puddle of smeared blood, one paw looking half chewed off. Once again, his "bath" opened the wound and he recreated the "bucket at the prom" scene from Carrie.
We've got brand new carpet in the house, remember?
I snatched him up like a football and scrubbed like hell with a dishrag to clean him up as best I could. Then I took him upstairs into Liz's sewing room where he doesn't mind hanging out, is gated to keep the rabbit in, and has old carpet on the floor.
When he kisses you, he smells like blood.
On Sunday morning I "winterized" the front yard, which included the season's last mow and edging and cleaning up the flowerbeds. I also harvested the last of the veggies that we grew this year as an experiment.
Folks, this is the last harvest from *one* tomato plant, *one* cherry tomato plant (grown in a flowerpot), and *one* jalepeno pepper plant. We probably got close to 200 tomatoes from that one plant, and I did nothing more than water it fairly regularly. No fertilizer, no insecticide, nada. As such, I estimate the loss rate to hungry bugs and stuff to be around 40%, and when I picked a tomato and found it to be unsuitable for the table, I dropped it on the ground as bait/decoy and eventual fertilizer.
Figure a hundred each from the cherry tomato and jalepeno plants, and it was a bountiful year around here, and the neighbors enjoyed it too.
Still, come Spring I'm planting boxwoods. The HOA was on my case about the veggies in the front yard, and the garden was a whole lot more work than a few small shrubs. Oh well, it was fun (and tasty) while it lasted.
It has been a whirlwind of life around here lately.
Liz has had to take a leave of absence from work. She still cannot drive, let alone work, so we have become a one-income family again. We've been seeing many specialists, and they've ruled out a lot of really scary things that might have happened. We still don't have an answer - which is frustrating - but they've been introducing new medications (slowly, always slowly) and adjusting current ones, looking for that magic combination that will bring her back to normal. Or as close as possible anyway.
At work, we've had the fiscal year thing happening. Working in a finance-related field, you can imagine that it's been chock-full o' adventure and happenstance.
The home remodel is 95% complete. It's down to details, details, details. On Monday the floor people come out to figure out how they're going to fix the kitchen floor, because they botched the job. It's going to have to be redone, and they accept that, but unless better prep-work is done correctly, it'll just happen again.
Some touchup painting needs to be redone, some finishing trim installed, and of course lots of putting stuff away. I've been cooking like crazy this weekend (yay! finally!!!), and it's all harder because I don't know where anything is. As I get used to the new layout I won't have to hunt down the stuff I need, I'll just instinctively turn to it. We like it very very muchly though.
The new carpet and furniture is beautiful. The living room has looked like a cemetary all weekend because it's Fall Break at Rachael's school, so she brought some friends home with her (hence the cooking spree), and they're sleeping en masse in the living room. Yes, I'm living "Standard Male Fantasy #11 - House Full of College Girls".
I'm about three weeks away from being able to slow down, but I've gotten into a nice groove about things, so instead of being hectic and frantic I just stay steadily occupied from 4am (when I wake up for work) until 8pm or so (when I decide the day is done and unwind for a bit before bed).
Pictures of the house to come.
After yesterday's accomplishments, today I fixed a leaky drain in the upstairs bathroom sink, put half the basement back together and removed the old toilet in the downstairs bath so the floor guys could do their thing.
Mike, the friend that helped with the laundry sink yesterday, bought a new pickup.
No dreams this time. I got up to close windows because it's raining and damn near tore a toe off kicking a box sitting along the upstairs hallway. That's way exagerated of course, because nothing is broken and no blood is leaking, but it's still throbbing and I'm pissed off.
What's with the freaking rain, anyway? All week long we heard about how beautiful the weekend was going to be. It drizzled much of yesterday and now rain overnight. Stupid weatherman.
Look at me, I'm a whiny little bitch.
Big day around the ol' homestead.
I woke up from a nightmare at 5am and couldn't get back to sleep. I haven't done that in a long time, but dreaming that you're about to be ripped apart by a pack of wild dogs with no chance of escape kind of shakes one up, ya know? No biggie, because the alarm was set for 6am anyway. I had things to take care of before the cabinet guys showed up at eight.
Guess who *didn't* show up again today? If you said "[expletive deleted] electrician", then give yourself a cookie.
I made sure that the dogs were penned up out of the way and let the cabinet guys into the house. They were in for a long day, because they have to be done before Monday when the floors get done. As soon as they arrived I took off to run a couple errands, one of which was picking up some plumbing parts for a leaky sink drain upstairs.
When I got back, I found out that my neighbor Mike had called. We had sort of made plans to install a laundry tub in my basement today. He was ready to do it, so we headed out again, right back to the big generic hardware store and then to it's equally big generic hardware store competitor across the street. Before long I had purchased a sink, faucet, and more various plumbing bits.
Mike does this stuff for a living, so I was looking forward to learning something new. In just a few hours we had rerouted the washing machine drain, installed and plumbed the sink, tapped into the hot and cold lines and run new to the sink and relocated the washing machine. I also made another run to the hardware store for a length of copper pipe and also found the lint socks I needed.
The aforementioned lint socks were the reason for this whole exercise. Our basements have a floor drain but no sump, and every couple of years the drains clog from the lint that flows out of the washer with the rinse water. By routing the washer drain into the laundry sink, I could fasten a lint sock to the end of the hose and it would catch all that soggy fluff and keep my drain from clogging. The lint sock looks kind of like a chainmail condom (probably $15.95 from Adam & Eve), and attaches to the hose with a zip tie. After two loads of laundry, there is already visible crud that was captured. Every month or so I'll throw it out and put a new one on, they cost about a buck apiece.
I did make one more run to the hardware store for an extension length of washing machine drain hose.
The cabinet guys were here until 7pm, and one of them will be back tomorrow for a while to finish with the last couple base cabinets. I sent a bag of tomatoes and jalepenos home with them tonight. My neighbor Mike got a bag too.
In totally unrelated news, one of the dogs has horrible gas. We're talking EPA-alert caliber dog farts. We think it's the new dry food they're eating. The plan is to switch back to the old stuff and see if that helps, because I keep expecting guys in white hazard suits to burst into the house and start to decontaminate the whole area.
Part of my movie order arrived today! Expect some reviews in the near future. Cringing won't help, stop being such a wuss.
Found in one of the bulletin boards I visit:
Once upon a midnight dreary,
while i pron surfed, weak and weary,
over many a strange and spurious site of ' hot xxx galore'.While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark,
suddenly there came a warning,
and my heart was filled with mourning,
mourning for my dear amour,"'Tis not possible!", i muttered,
"give me back my free hardcore!"
..... quoth the server, 404.
404, even more evil than 666 according to some.
When yet another post about our kitchen renovation just doesn't seem worth the effort, I have to do nothing more than step out onto the front porch to be inspired.
The very beginnings of last night's thunderstorms were rolling in (the worst of it brushed by to our west, there were tornados north of us as well). I was taking out the trash and saw a couple neighbors standing outside. They filled me in on the fun-in-progress.
Seems that the guy living across the street was teaching his daughter/wife/girlfriend (unclear) how to drive. As she was coming down the street, she hit two parked cars. Hard. Hard enough to knock the bead of a truck's tire off the rim. As she tried to back out, she almost hit a couple more parked cars. By this time, someone had come running out of their house and was yelling that they'd better not move that car. The police were called.
Two large groups of people stood around under umbrellas in the rain for several hours, first waiting for the police to arrive, and then as each told their story. As the cops finally drove away, the groups glared at each other from opposite sides of the street. This may not be over.
PS. My phrasing "large groups" may sound odd, but is explained by the fact that both groups are hispanic. I've noticed that the homes in our neighborhood that are owned by hispanics tend to have a lot of people living there. That is merely an observation.
There are electrical wires dangling from holes in the walls and ceiling of our kitchen! Yay!
If bees leave curses, we are so screwed. More on that farther down, after the boring crap that you couldn't care less about.
Today most of the rough-in electrical work was accomplished. Of course, this means that the drywall crew will be here again tomorrow to patch all the various holes that must be cut when running wire. As a consequence, the cabinet installation will now start Friday and be finished Saturday, no matter how long it takes.
Bright and early tomorrow morning the electrician will arrive to finish up his bit on the main floor, and then descend to the basement level to swap out the main electrical panel. Wire has already been run for that, so it's a straight exchanging of parts that should take about four hours.
One interesting discovery was made by the electrician downstairs. He cut a couple of holes in the ceiling in order to run the wire to the panel, and over by the back wall of the house he discovered honeycomb. Old honeycomb.
Years ago, we had a bee problem where the little bombers were crawling into a crevice around one of the outside window frames, and into the wall itself. We'd have bees in the house all the time and couldn't figure out where they were coming from, until we finally we caught several emerging from behind some interior window moulding. I leaned down to look closer and my hand went through the drywall and into a beehive. They were as surprised as I was. We quickly blocked the hole by covering it with a large trash bag taped to the wall, and then plans were made. I started off by fogging the hell out of the opening of the hole, and then leaving the fogger on inside to get to as much of the space as possible. We closed it up again and repeated several times over the next day. As the bees left in a hurry, we found the spot on the outside frame that they were using to enter and I fogged that entrance too. Next I caulked that entrance up good and tight.
I wound up replacing a good two foot square of drywall where those bees had eaten the back away until it was damn near paper thin. When I cut the wall away, hundreds of dead bees fell out. No more problems after that.
So our walls are full of old honeycomb and thousands of mummified bee corpses. Lets just hope that we don't have the insect equivalent of those WWII Japanese island soldiers still living in there, waiting for their chance to get even.
Let's play a word game! I'll give you four words and four people. You can match them up. What fun!
1. Livid.
2. Enraged.
3. Bewildered.
4. Missing.
A. Wife.
B. Prime Contractor.
C. Electrical Contractor Dispatcher.
D. [Expletive Deleted] Electrician.
Lots of work done yesterday. None of it involved electricity in any fundamental way.
The kitchen, dining room and bathroom drywall is finished. The kitchen and dining room are now painted (except the trim). The floor is fixed where the old walls were and the heat/air vent is relocated.
Everyone is waiting on the electrician now. Nobody knows why they didn't show up yesterday, not even their boss. Cabinet and appliance installation has been delayed by a day, and will now take place Thursday, Friday (and Saturday if needed).
Liz raised hell with the appliance people. Our refrigerator was backordered and so I set up the delivery date for just that on October 10th. When Liz called to confirm that everything else would be delivered yesterday, they told her that the fridge wouldn't be available until later in the month. We just gave away our old fridge to one of the construction crew, so this wasn't acceptable. After dealing with Liz for a while, they magically "found" a refrigerator in their warehouse for us. Same model, same options, same style. They even delivered it yesterday with the rest of our stuff.
I wonder if someone else is wondering where their fridge is. It's probably bad juju on me, but right now I don't care.
All the cabinets were delivered and are now stacked all over the living room. Installation must wait for the [expletive deleted] electrician. The dining room is full of shiny new appliances.
I'm trying to keep a good humor about this, because really, it hasn't been too awful bad. If this goes on another day though...
On Saturday Liz and I went out to the prime contractor's showroom to pick out a nice piece of granite for the bathroom vanity. While we were there, we discussed the upcoming schedule and changes caused by the [expletive deleted] electrician and our floor fiasco.
On Sunday the new floor guy came out and took measurements and gave us an estimate. The estimate was within our budget, enough so that we were able to replace *all* the carpeting in the house instead of just the main floor and one stairway. They can't do the kitchen/dining room/bathroom/foyer install on Friday like we were hoping for, but the crew will be out Saturday and finish up on Monday. Carpet will be done in a couple few weeks.
The [expletive deleted] electrician didn't show up again today. Turns out he called in sick and nobody bothered to let us or the general contractor know. So tomorrow (hopefully) the electrical work on the main floor will be done and on Wednesday the main panel gets switched out.
Today was more drywall work. The drain pipes in that wall got re-routed. The bathroom floor was taken up and the existing vanity removed. Partly because the schedule is slipping and partly to save a few hundred bucks, we gave the go-ahead to just paint the kitchen and dining room walls white instead of the blues we had picked out.
I patched nail holes in the stairwell heading to the basement, and will probably start in on the ceilings tomorrow in the stairway, hall and living room.
Tomorrow is going to be a big day all around. The cabinets get delivered (but have to be set in the dining room while the [expletive deleted] electrician does his thing. Which is going to cause the drywall guys to have to re-do some of their work, which means the painters will have to re-do some of *their* work. The appliances are due tomorrow too.
There's a reason why you hire a general contractor to deal with the individual tradesmen, and this is it. We're staying on top of things, and every time we talk to the general contractor we have a list of questions and issues. But this guy is paid to deal with the scheduling crap that happens with every project, and as far as I'm concerned he's worth every penny (and he's earning it too!).
I wish it wasn't happening, but it is kind of reassuring to see the pros go through the same kind of unexpected project futz that we do-it-yourself'ers do. There's nothing more annoying than getting into the middle of something, and then having to run back to the hardware store to pick up a part that you didn't know about or expect to need.
I'll keep blogging the renovation progress, as much for us to look back at in the future as for you to be enthralled over. Heh, right.
Liz was telling me about this television commercial selling a swivel seat that fits in your car (something like this). It's a great idea for the elderly or handicapped people who can't easily swing in and out of a car seat. I mentioned "captain's chairs" and she explained that what she saw is a cushion that sits on the regular seat, and only the cushion pivots, not the whole car seat.
There's only one thing you could call it: the "Lazy Ass Susan".
I don't have the camera handy, but the pictures aren't all that interesting so I don't want to hear a bunch of clamoring and whining.
Every project has unexpected glitches and gotchas, and day 2 was our day full. For progress, drywall was put up to cover the places where the ceiling and wall used to be, the pantry entrance was opened up, and the dining room carpet was removed. Also, work sorta started in the bathroom in that the medicine cabinet was carefully removed. I'll be recycling that to the other bathroom, because it's in better shape than the one upstairs.
As for the problems, most of them are minor, and all are already dealt with. The electrician goofed up his schedule and couldn't come out on Thursday and Friday as planned. He'll be here Monday to get started by replacing the main panel for the house.
The plan for those two drain pipes in the pantry entrance wall is even better than the one I expected. They're going to lower the joint to almost floor level and reroute both pipes back flush to the main wall. They'll still protrude, but not very much, and the cabinets can be modified to hide them.
The biggest problem was with the guy we were working with to do the floors. He screwed up big time. He lost all of our paperwork, so not only doesn't he know what we picked out, but none of it got ordered. The estimates and orders all happened a few months ago, and what with the packing up the main floor, we can't find our copies either. On top of that, he suddenly can't meet our schedule. Very unprofessional.
Last night Liz and I went to his place of business to straighten things out. He wasn't there and couldn't be located (out on a call - "somewhere"), and his clerk was the singularly most unhelpful person I've ever dealt with. We walked out and went looking for an alternative.
We did find one. We found equivalents to what we wanted from the other place. The guy will be coming out Sunday morning to do the measurements and give us the estimates. He *might* be able to do our schedule (ideally, kitchen floor installation happens next Friday), but because this is so last minute we'll understand if it can't happen right then. Carpets will get done in a few weeks.
Cabinets get installed starting Tuesday, and appliances show up then too (except for the fridge, which will show up two weeks later - backordered). Countertop templates happen on Thursday, floor on Friday (fingers crossed) and that's all written in sand.
We're making progress, and this is the normal kind of scheduling problems that I expected, so we're not stressing too much about it. In fact, every time we run across one of these little speedbumps, we just look at each other, grin from ear to ear and say, "we're getting a new kitchen!"
These guys ain't fooling around. I got home from work to find all the cabinets out and gone, the wallpaper stripped, walls removed and kitchen floor taken up.
Where the peninsula and soffet *used* to be
I told you that the cabinets there were going into the basement. Thanks to our prep work clearing the move path, those cabinets were in the basement less than half an hour after they started.
The dining room carpet is still there, and as you can see that little odd pantry opening is still there. Like all renovations, you always run into something unexpected, and this one is ours (if this is the only one then we're getting off lucky). There are two drain pipes in that odd little wall that nobody knew were there. If building codes allow, I expect that they'll lower the pipe joint about six inches to fit beneath the countertop height and fit the cabinets around it. That's my guess anyway, we'll see what the experts come up with.
For all the progress made, the room (and house) is remarkably clean, almost as if they vacuumed and dusted afterwards.
After years of hearing the radical vegetarians telling us that red meat will kill you, I wonder how many see the irony of bad spinach knocking off a few folks.
After months of planning, our renovation began today. Last night we finished moving the last of the kitchen/dining room stuff out.
Here are the "before" pictures, pop-up style.
This peninsula of cabinets shown in these first two pictures creates a pass-through bar between the two rooms. It's outta here. The floor cabinets and countertop are going into the basement to replace a couple of old card tables that we've used forever for folding laundry. You'll notice the square holes in the soffet, those were cut by the contractors to see what was inside the wall before finalizing plans to remove it.
Here's a shot down the length of the kitchen from the pantry. The fridge will be moved so that it'll be directly to your right from where this picture is taken.
In most houses with our floor plan, this room is a big ass pantry. The previous owner did this to the doorway and put a small built-in table and benches for a nook for his kids to eat. They had three sets of twins, so they needed the space. We converted it back into an open pantry as shown here.
The plan is to completely open it up so that there's no "doorway" left. The new cabinets will extend into the space and around the back wall, creating a butler's pantry. Lots of countertop space for things like the food processor and bread machine too. The fridge will be sitting to the left of the opening, with a new cabinet next to it.
I took more pictures this evening of the first day's progress. I'll post 'em tomorrow night.
On the radio this morning, I heard about a new CNN/Money magazine poll that measured the "smartest" cities in the US. Washington DC came in at number four, based on the percentage of degrees and the number of colleges and universities in the area (45% bachelors and 34). There's a lot of talent involved with government (yes, there is. Be nice.)
Raleigh/Durham, North Carolina came in at number 3. San Fransisco is number 2 and Seattle is number 1.
I don't know about Raleigh, but it doesn't surprise me that the two biggest moonbat concentrations are products of our esteemed institutions of higher learning. They keep telling the rest of us how much smarter they are, and we're just too dumb to realize it.
Explain to me again why it's bad that North Korea can reach the west coast with their missiles?
On this morning's commute, I was dazzled (literally!) by the stunning number of lights on your pickup truck. Headlights, foglamps, lightbar across the roll cage, corner markers, and others too numerous to count.
And as you drove down the road, each of these lights pointed in a different direction, making your vehicle look like a 70's-style disco ball on wheels. Your lane was illuminated. The lane on either side of you was illuminated. The shoulder of the road was lit up. You shined into my rear view mirror. Heck, you shined into mirrors two lanes over.
Maybe that was your intention. Maybe you spent time carefully adjusting each and every light for maximum coverage, so that everywhere you drove, you were enveloped in a giant ball of blinding glare.
I think though, that the simpler explanation is probably true. You're just an idiot.
The Return of Nog Watch.
Me: You know, I was thinking...Wife: Uh oh.
Me: Well, we're getting a new refrigerator, and I thought that it would be the perfect chance to resurrect Nog Watch.
Wife: No.
Me: It was one of the most popular Rocket Jones features.
Wife: No.
Me: Think abo--
Wife: No.
Sorry. I tried.
The Oakland Raiders got stomped by the San Diego Chargers last night. After watching that pathetic performance, I'm trying to figure out the best spin for it. Should the Raiders claim that they're coming off a bye week or that their season starts next Sunday?
There's a political ad playing on the radio where someone is writing to their local congresscritter about American factory jobs moving overseas. You know the kind, where you hear a keyboard tapping while the "citizen" reads his words aloud as he types.
In this one, they want a representative who will "demand" that China, India, and a couple of other countries all stop subsidizing their industries in order to steal American jobs.
Maybe as a good faith gesture, we should close all those Honda, Toyota, Hyundai and Volkswagen manufacturing plants in the US. After all, we're stealing jobs from their workers.
We've had worse winds, but seldom for this extended length of time. The rains haven't been terribly heavy, but they've been steady.
I've gone out back to lift a large tree branch off of the back fence, and there's an even bigger one out there now that I'll have to saw in half to move. I don't feel like standing out in the rain with the saw, and it's straddling the fence, not actually on it, so it can wait until Sunday.
Mother Nature is saving me big bucks by bringing down that Maple piece at a time. At some point I'll have to hire a tree company to take down the main trunk, but it'll be like taking down a telephone pole at this rate.
I noticed another big tree snapped off about 30 feet up down by the creek. Ernesto must be muy offended because I called him a wuss.
The salsa garden is going great guns. Cherry tomatoes enough for my tomato loving daughters, plus enough regular tomatoes to give away half and still have plenty. The green peppers have been disappointing, but even those have been good if not overly abundant. Jalepenos? Muy bueno!!!
Last weekend (two weekends ago?) I spent a little quality time in the kitchen and made a gallon and a half of salsa. A good sized container full for my neighbor, who's been helping me with a couple of household projects, and another for daughter Robyn that she took with her back to school. That left more than we could use, although we tried, including a breakfast of heavenly veggie salsa omelets.
Tonight I picked a large tomato and a couple of nice jalepenos and made guacamole. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
The baseball world is agog at the Los Angeles Dodgers, who've now won seventeen of their last eighteen games. What people seem to have forgotten is their equally remarkable streak just before that, when they lost thirteen out of fourteen.
That makes them 18-14 in the last thirty-two games. Big whoop.
You know that 1982 Ford Econoline van with the twelve ladders strapped to the top? Yeah, with seven guys riding inside. Doing the speed limit, while everyone else on the road passes them left and right. Yeah, that one!
Deport them.
With the recent phenomenom of hit Broadway musicals set to pop and rock artists like Abba and Billy Joel, I'm imagining something slightly more surreal...
...something like Jeffrey Dahmer's life story, set to Loggins & Messina.
Opening scene, music comes up as "mom" and "dad" arrive home from hospital carrying their new baby:
People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one,
And we've just begun...
Later there can be a scene reminiscent of Risky Business, where a grown Jeffrey dances his way around the kitchen in his underwear, bopping to "Your Momma Don't Dance" as he restocks his fridge and freezer (if you know what I mean).
Closing scene. An ordinary house in a quiet neighborhood, lit by flashing police lights. A crowd of people stand around out front, wondering why that nice young man was arrested. And the closing music gradually rises over the people's murmering voices:
Oh, help me if you can, I've got to get,
Back to the house at Pooh Corner by one,
You'd be surprised, there's so much to be done,
Count all the bees in the hive,
Chase all the clouds from the sky...
If you use this idea, I expect "Concept by:" credit.
The good guys defeated the terrorists yesterday.
A lot of people who would've died are going to live.
The Dixie Chicks cancelled 14 shows on their US tour due to poor ticket sales.
The Dixie Chicks don't like President Bush.
Cindy Sheehan just bought property near the President's ranch.
She could hold an anti-Bush concert there featuring the Dixie Chicks! It's what, 5 acres? That's probably big enough to hold all the fans, including parking.
Ever notice how when a new housing development is going up, if it's Something Estates then it's ritzy and pricey, and if it's Whatever Heights then it's always "affordable" housing. If I had the money, I'd do a development called Estates Heights just to see what would happen.
Quite some time ago (we're talking years here), someone posted a whole bunch of 3D photos to the vintage newsgroup that I subscribed to. I created a subfolder for them, downloaded 'em all, and promptly forgot them.
A few months ago, I purchased one of my beloved crappy movie collections and discovered that you could watch each film in either regular 2D or 3D versions. Cool! I mentioned to my wife that I needed some red and blue acetate to make a pair of glasses, and then forgot about it.
Last week (isn't this exciting?) my wife was travelling and found a pair of 3D glasses. Did I want them? You bet.
Alas, the movies are filmed in some "new" 3D technology and require special electronic glasses that are rather expensive for the amount of use I'd get out of them. The company is putting out some new collections for their 3D, but I have better things to spend my money on.
Then I remembered those old 3D photos I'd saved... somewhere. I found them, and now I get to share some of them with you.
Here are the first few. Each photo will appear in a popup window. Make original size for best effect. The naughty ones are labeled as such, so don't go blaming me if you open them up at work (although why you'd be looking at 3D pictures at work is beyond me, you look like a dork in those glasses).
Enjoy, and remember, most of these are vintage.
Miscella Misclean Miscillanious Various.
Insert your own family reunion joke
Sports photos.
Baseball, St. Louis Cardinals, too much work to positively identify
Bikini alert!
Ole!
Like ViewMaster for Adults! (Rated R - not safe for work)
This one is my favorite
There are plenty left, so if you're interested in me posting more of these, let me know in the comments or by email.
I know some of you have been eagerly looking forward to the movie Snakes On A Plane, but my lawyer tells me that we'll probably be granted our injunction to prevent the release because the studio stole my original idea for Snakes on a Blog without due compensation.
I will admit though, that including Samuel L. Jackson is an improvement over my original idea of inviting Michael Jackson, Jackson Browne, Reggie Jackson and Jackson Pollock to be my co-bloggers.
On advice of my lawyer, I admit nothing.
If you've got an old pair of those goofy 3D glasses somewhere, you might want to find 'em.
Just sayin'.
Well, *that* was amusing. I attempted to translate the title using babelfish and found out that "La Calandria" is Italian for "The Calandria". Imagine that...
Rocket Jones will be making the switch to the new Minx comment system in the next day or two, so if comments get wonky you'll know why. Drop me an email to let me know if you're having any problems.
Friday night we saw The Merry Widow, as performed by the Ash Lawn Opera Company. We had an excellent time. For those who don't know, our daughter Rachael is working as an Assistant Costumer for the summer season at Ash Lawn.
From the Albemarle County* website, here is a brief synopsis of the story:
In this delightful comic operetta, Anna, the Pontevedrian widow, finds herself in France surrounded by suitors interested in her impressive estate. Her native country, facing bankruptcy, is concerned that she will choose to marry a foreigner, and her money will be lost to the little country. Join us to find out who Anna marries.
The performance was excellent. One of the female leads had a beautiful voice, but not the projection needed for an outdoor venue, especially since no microphones are used. Other than that, the comedy was funny and the singing was wonderful.
As for the costumes, what Rachael (and the other assistant) did for the first act was mostly "dressing up" old prom dresses to turn them into ball gowns. They also made petticoats for the ladies and did alterations for the guy's tuxedos. Their most impressive work for the first act was the lead's ball gown, which they made from scratch. It was elegant and intricate and beautiful.
The second act was where that had all the fun. They created can-can dresses for all the ladies, and Rachael made frilly garters and, as she put it, "added lace to a bunch of granny underwear"
From the information page at the county website:
The Ash Lawn Opera Festival is recognized by Money Magazine as one of the top-20 international warm weather summer opera companies, boasting "first rank talent, full summer programs and lots of nearby culture". Established in 1978, the Festival, a member of Opera America Inc., presents opera and musical theater sung in English and performed in the beautiful Boxwood Gardens of Ash Lawn-Highland, home of President James Monroe.
This area of Virginia is beautiful and full of history. Besides many vinyards and wineries, Monroe's Ash Lawn, Madison's Montpelier, and Jefferson's Montecello are all in the immediate vicinity. These three founders of the United States were neighbors and good friends.
Turning into Ash Lawn, you find yourself travelling a mile long drive underneath the overarching canopies of magnificent oak trees lining the road (I think they were oak). There are tours given of the grounds, and several of the original buildings have been restored. I must mention the gift shop, in that it's the most reasonably priced shop of its kind that I've ever encountered.
The theater grounds open early, and many folks show up early with picnic baskets. The stage is set in a natural amphitheater and is surrounded with tall hedges. I was surprised to learn that the area seats 300 or so, and since there are only eight rows, nobody is far from the stage. The seats themselves are comfortable, cushioned chairs. There is a smaller, emergency "rain stage" and covered pavilion where the show moves to if the weather doesn't cooperate.
Like I said, it was a very enjoyable evening.
*According to Rachael, Albemarle County was for a brief time the largest county in the United States. The original charter for Albemarle lay the western edge of the county at the "island of California". Presumably, someone who could read a map later amended the charter.
If you click on the sidebar link for the PDA compatible version of Rocket Jones, you now actually get the updated PDA compatible version of Rocket Jones instead of the old and non-updated pages.
Tomorrow evening, my wife and I shall attend the opera.
You heard about the Polish suicide car bombers?
Ten of 'em crowded into a minivan and blew themselves up when someone walked by.
This morning on the radio news, the reporter starts the story off with this:
Even though no weapons of mass destruction have been found in Iraq...
I dunno, maybe it's because we've found 'em. Not the massive stockpiles we thought were there, but enough have been found that could have caused thousands of deaths.
Now the news source is CBS, which makes bias a real possibility (gee, ya think?), but it could also be sloppy writing. Especially since the report ended with:
Five hundred chemical weapon artillery shells were discovered earlier this year.
As a followup, I went to their website to look for contact information. I thought that a little feedback was needed, about how such obviously biased half-assed imprecise news reporting didn't reflect well on their credibility.
Wanna advertise with them? Email *here*. Reporting a traffic incident? Use *this* email. And so on, a whole page of contact information.
Oddly, the only contact without an email address is their news director.
"...und mit superior German engineering we can place a small vibrating unit inside which we believe will become very popular. I hope that answers your question, Doctor Johnson."
My wife and I were at the supermarket this evening, and as we were loading the groceries into our car, a mini-van passed us.
It was hard to miss the giant lettering across the side and rear windows:
"Glory of God Cleaning Services", along with a phone number.
I looked at Liz and said, "We clean like the devil!"
She said, "We'll scrub the hell out of your house!!!"
I said, "Christ Almighty, that sparkles!!!!!"
We chuckled all the way home.
They don't tell you that it's true whether you're the snacker or the snackee.
Mmmmmm, now I'm hungry.
It doesn't have quite the same ring as "Fitzmas", but it amounts to the same thing.
After recent widespread speculation that Barry Bonds would be indicted today for everything except robbing churches in his spare time, he wasn't.
But don't worry, because the prosecution will just call another Grand Jury, and another after that if needed, until they find one that will indict this stain upon humanity and make America safer for... uh... newspaper reporters who write books based on leaked (confidential) Grand Jury testimony.
I think.
My favorite vacation photo, as I jostle elbows with celebrity.
Part 1 is here and part 2 is here.
Even if you don't gamble, there's plenty to do in Las Vegas. I'm not talking about things for kids, because as hard as they try to make it family oriented, I don't really think it's all that great a place for a vacation with the kids. You can run through the kiddie stuff in two or three days, including the zoo and the Leid Children's Museum. On the strip, there's the Excalibur which caters to families, and at the other end of the strip is Circus Circus with their "largest indoor amusement park in the world". Other than that, Vegas is pretty much an adult town.
I spent three full days visiting various attractions and museums using my "Power Pass". This little gem got me free admission (well, free after paying for the pass) to a whole heap of cool places, and if I went back next week, I'd get another 3-day pass because there's that much more that I didn't have time to visit. Liz got the 1-day pass, and we spent our anniversary doing things that both of us wanted to see.
I spent one morning visiting the very cool and highly recommended Atomic Testing Museum. Did you know that the US has conducted almost 950 nuclear tests? Not all were for weapon research either, as there were tests done for medical research (as in "nuclear medicine"), for business and industrial research, and of course for pure scientific analysis. One interesting test happened in the 1980's when a tower was erected that was the height of the detonation of the bomb over Hiroshima. At the top of the tower was placed an unshielded nuclear reactor that mimiced the radiation output of that first bomb, and underneath a series of Japanese structures were built using WWII-era construction techniques and materials. The objective was to measure the level of radiation protection provided by the various buildings in order to help Japanese doctors treat the long-term health effects of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivors.
If you look here, every crater is the site of an underground test, where the surface collapsed onto the dome of the chamber where the device was detonated. The engineering and geology behind the test chambers is explained, and the resulting radioactive leftovers from the tests wind up buried hundreds of feet underground in brilliantly conceived and designed self-sealing pits.
The museum wasn't all rah-rah and "go team". All in all it was a fairly balanced look at the testing done in the area, both good points and bad. There was a section on the local indigenous peoples and how the testing affected them (they were forcibly removed by the government when the test range was created) and what the land means to their cultures. This part of the museum was created with the cooperation of the local tribes (Shoshone and one other I can't remember offhand).
You learn the what and the why, but also the how. They put a lot of history out there to experience, and place it in context of the times. Did I say highly recommended? It's worth repeating.
Our hotel, the Luxor, offered free admission to the King Tut Museum and the In Search of the Obelisk ride as part of the Power Pass package. The "ride" was ok, if a little hokey. Most of it is a movie shot with a special technique that makes it look very real to life. It was difficult to distinguish between the actors on the screen and the live people who're part of the show.
The King Tut Museum is a recreation of King Tut's tomb. You get one of those new audio wands that all museums seem to be in love with nowadays, and it tells you interesting things about what you're looking at, which is good. It also tells you when to move along and look at the next thing, which is bad. These were nice because they had a pause button. When they don't, I get fed up quickly and ignore them.
Anyway, the tomb exhibit shows the four rooms of treasures found back in the 1920's by Howard Carter. A lot of details are pointed out, so you really get the significance of what you're looking at, rather than just the jumble of Egyptian stuff. Interesting, but very quick to go through.
Fifth Vegas Tip: Most attractions are not worth the admission price, but they are worth seeing. Either remind yourself that you're on vacation and don't sweat it, or get one of those discount packages.
The Luxor also features an IMAX movie theater (at single ticket prices cheaper than the Air & Space in DC). I plunked down twenty bucks for a three show package and saw "Journey down the Nile", "Magnificent Desolation" in 3D, and "The Sea" in 3D. The first movie was excellent, the second (about the space program, how could it be bad?) was pretty damn good and the IMAX 3D was wonderful (no funky red/green glasses, these used some sort of polarizing effect). The last movie though, gave me a headache. Maybe it was just too much movement for 3D or my glasses didn't fit right or something, but I could've done without the fish. It also got preachy about ecology and conservation, which I'm sure everyone pondered that evening as they wolfed down lobster and crab legs at the buffet.
Let's see... what else...
The Venetian and Bellagio both have museums built into the premises. At the Bellagio was a fine exhibit of and about Ansel Adams, again with the annoying audio wand (completely ignored by me).
The Venetian had a display of Ruebens and Van Dyke oils, amongst other contemporaries. I was given an audio wand for this one, but I lucked out and caught on to a live tour. Unfortunately it didn't last long because although the guide had interesting things to say, her voice made me want to stick pencils through my eardrums. I finished seeing the exhibit sans guide and almost completely without the use of the magic talking stick.
The Venetian also features Madame Tussaud's Celebrity Wax Museum. Unlike any other wax museum I've ever been to, here you are invited to touch and pose with the figures for photos. Mookie saw the one in London and said it's the same way. I wish I'd been forewarned, so I could have taken a sign that said "Noo-Klee-Err" and held it up while posing with President Bush at the podium. Oh well. Spilt milk, eh? They also offer a side-trip through a mini-house of horrors that isn't very scary.
At the Mirage is Seigfried and Roy's Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat, which was pretty cool. They don't do shows, per se, because this is a research facility that allows folks to watch and help pay the bills. The staff has frequent "interactions" where they feed fish to the dolphins and the dolphins do all kinds of tricks and stunts. You know, just like a show. You can get very close to the action, and there are several underwater windows to see what's going on from below.
The Secret Garden half is full of tropical plants and several large areas full of sleeping lions and tigers and alpaca (!?!?!?!).
Hey, you're a Star Trek-lovin' geek, right? If so, you're in luck! The Las Vegas Hilton features the "Star Trek Experience". It's chock-full of memorabilia from all the various incarnations, and as you go through it you're accompanied by a long-ass timeline that ties events from the whole shebang together. When you're done with the static displays, you get to choose between two exciting adventures, something about the Borg, and something about the Klingons. Your admission gets you into either and both (it's an all-day pass), but I only had time to do the Klingon side. It was hokey but not too bad, and did have some funny bits and actual thrills. In our group were two ladies who had no idea what the hell was going on, so they were cracking jokes about how stupid everything was. I contemplated putting on my earnest face and becoming the "dedicated Trekkie" to explain the error of their ways, but they were pretty funny and I could tell that they were already annoying the real trekkies in the group, which I enjoyed.
My shining moment came at the end when you're offered a chance to buy a photo where your face is placed into a group shot of the Star Trek crew of your choice. When they asked which crew was my favorite, I said "original series" and quicker than you could stomp a Tribble, there I was with Kirk, Spock, Sulu and the rest. Only one problem... I complained bitterly that I was in a red shirt, and there was no way I was buying a picture of me knowing that I was nothing more than "the guy that dies".
That brought some laughs from the other folks, and I noticed that after me everyone picked "next generation" or one of the others.
Before you leave, you can stop in at Quarks bar and restaurant and have a bite to eat. If I have to explain, you wouldn't get it.
So far, everything I've mentioned here was free with my power pass (except for the IMAX movies). Among the other things I could've seen for free was the Las Vegas Zoo, the top of the Stratosphere tower, Elvis-A-Rama, the Liberace Museum, a half-day tour to Hoover Dam, the Museum of Natural History, the Las Vegas Art Museum, "Lost Vegas" Gambling Museum, the Circus Circus amusement park and much much more.
The limiting factor for most of these (besides time) was transportation. I got ripped off by a cab driver who stuck me for eleven bucks for a six dollar ride, and after that I was leery about using them. More than one local warned me about them as well. Almost all of the things I did were on the strip, so you could walk or take the monorail.
Sixth Vegas Tip: Make sure you have plenty of ones and fives on hand for tips and taxis. The scumbag cabbies will claim they can't make change.
Seventh Vegas Tip: There are two monorails on the strip. The first is at the extreme south end and connects Mandalay Bay, Luxor and the Excalibur. These three are all right next door to each other and are also connected by covered walkways. You never need to ride this monorail.The second monorail starts at the MGM Grand (south end of the strip, across from Excalibur) and goes north. The last two stops are a block east of the strip at the Convention Center and the Hilton. Rides are five dollars, two for nine dollars (up and back), or fifteen bucks for the all day pass. This is a nice system, and worth the money if you don't feel like walking miles up and down the strip in the heat.
Eighth Vegas Tip: From the Hilton, you can grab a shuttle bus to the Freemont District, which is like a mini-strip. This was where all the action was when Vegas was just getting started.Other things to do include (as Shank mentioned in previous comments) renting a machine gun for some quality time on the target range, learning to drive various high performance vehicles (both racetrack and off-road), and Madalay Bay has a wicked-cool Shark aquarium.
And that's not to mention all the free stuff you can do...
Next time.
Every year, after the number of exploding manhole covers eases off a bit, our area goes through a wave of rabid animals, both wild and pets. Oh, and plenty of Lyme-ridden ticks. Can't forget them.
This summer, just for fun we've added mosquitos with West Nile Virus. Confirmed.
Oh joy.
Translation: I finally got around to swapping in the new style sheet.
Still some tweaking to do.
The question was, if you don't gamble, what the hell are you doing in Vegas?
Three words, my friend: Shows. Food. Attractions. Shopping. Sightseeing.
That was more than three words? Yes it was, and it's the perfect demonstration of why I don't gamble. I'm smart enough to know I'm not smart enough to handle the math. And Las Vegas is built on math.
As a quick aside, I love the psychology and social engineering of casinos. One of the easiest table games to understand is the "Big 6" wheel. It's a giant vertical wheel, with dollar amounts on each click. On the table, you place your bets on matching dollar amounts. Maybe half the wheel is populated with ones and pays 1:1 - bet a dollar, win a dollar. A third of what's left on the wheel is twos and pays 2:1, a third of what's left is fives and pays 5:1, and so on with tens and twentys and sometimes the dreaded "0" and "00" like roullette. So you plop your chips down on what you think will come up and they spin the wheel and money is won and lost. Very simple to understand and very fun to play.
This table also features the worst odds in a casino.
That's the math part, but I also mentioned the psychology. I once watched several busloads of tourists unload and enter a casino, each with a voucher for ten or twenty bucks in chips as part of their tour package. As they came through the bus entrance, the first thing they saw was the Big 6 table, staffed by two friendly, engaging people who were more than happy to exchange those vouchers for chips. I kid you not, more than half of that "free" gambling money was drained off of an incoming group by that table before the folks ever set foot into the actual casino. Sometimes the percentage was even higher than that, and eighty percent would be a reasonable estimate. And the people had fun, and what the hell, it was "free" money that they were losing. Brilliant.
Aside over.
One of the highlights when you visit Las Vegas is the shows. We'd already gotten tickets to see Penn & Teller, who're most recently noted for their cable TV show Bullshit.
Their Vegas show actually starts an hour earlier than all the billboards state because when the doors open an excellent two-piece combo - piano and upright bass - plays for the first hour. After every song, the piano player asks everyone in the audience to come up on stage and sign this giant envelope which is later used in the show. He's got this perfect breathy MC voice thing going, and the pitch is sly and funny.
"If you don't come up and sign this envelope, you will feel disappointment, and that's a sad, unhappy feeling. Please, because we care about your mental health, bring a friend or loved one up and participate in the Penn & Teller Envelope Signing Experience."
The actual show is very cool and of course, everything has the wicked twisted humor that they're famous for.
You may have heard that after the show Penn & Teller come out into the lobby and talk to the audience and sign autographs. It's true (Teller speaks too). They autographed one of our tickets for Liz, and the other they signed "Happy Birthday Rachael" with a little birthday cake on it. We also bought Rachael this shirt.
We also saw Splash, which has been running since 1968 at the Riviera. They update it every year, and it was more your typical Vegas variety and review show, with dancing (sometimes topless) showgirls (in fact, the tits are trotted out about 45 seconds after the opening notes are sung), comedians and more. We saw those crazy-assed motorcycle riders who do their thing inside the steel mesh ball. They actually had four going at once in there, their helmets almost touching at the center point as they demonstrated the beauty of spatial geometry when combined with internal combustion engines.
A former US Ladies Freestyle ice skating champion did a strip tease on skates, while twirling multiple hula-hoops around various parts of her body. There were ice dancers and acrobats and a guy gymnast (eye candy for the ladies!) who put on an pretty amazing show of his own.
Third Vegas Tip: Do your research! Some shows sell out long in advance, so you've got to get your tickets early. Go to Vegas.Com and look around at the shows listed. There's something for everyone in all price ranges, and discounts abound for the second and third tier shows. We used a "buy one, get one" coupon for Splash, which saved us quite a bit of money.
We also purchased a "value pack" before we left which allowed us to print coupons and special offers for some shows and restaurants. Using the coupon for Splash paid for the package by itself, and we used quite a few others in the stack of possibilities that we'd printed and taken along.
Now a few words about food in Vegas.
Every casino offers a steakhouse, various fine dining choices, a buffet and a cafe. A lot of them have added food courts, like you'd find in a mall.
We don't do fine dining. Liz is a picky eater and not at all adventurous when it comes to food. I'm a barbarian, I can be just as happy with a good meal as a great meal. That said, there's a cuisine and style for everyone on the strip. Once again, do a little research ahead of time on the internet, because after all these years and with the number of Las Vegas entertainment publications, every damn eatery can truthfully claim to be selected as "Best on the Strip", and they all do.
That goes for most of the restaurants too, not just the fine dining.
There are some damn good buffets available in Las Vegas, if you know where and when to go. We visited a few that ranged from mediocre to fair. Disappointing, actually.
Fourth Vegas Tip: For about the same money as the buffets (and get used to it now, eating is going to be pricey), the cafe's in each casino are your best bet.
On our first night in town, after a day of flying and not eating much at all, we were starved. We wound up at the Pyramid Cafe in the Luxor and ordered dinner. Our bill was around forty bucks for the two of us, and we quickly learned that meals for two would run between $35-$50.
But the food... mmmmmmmmmm. I'd ordered the Monte Cristo, which is about the dumbest sandwich ever invented. For those that don't know, it's ham, turkey and swiss, dipped in egg batter and fried, dusted with powdered sugar and served with strawberry jam (but I think raspberry is traditional). Liz ordered some kind of club sandwich that was excellent as well. On the side, I had the best potato salad I've ever eaten in my life. I want my homemade potato salad to be this stuff. I'm pissed because I never went back just for an order of potato salad, it was that good.
At other cafe's, we had Cobb Salads, Chicken Parmesian, an enourmous "appetizer" of nachos with steak and guacamole that overwhelmed a platter bigger than anything in our kitchen, and so on. A slice of cheesecake was big enough for two, covered with sliced fresh strawberrys and real whipped cream. One morning we had breakfast in a deli near Ceasar's Palace, and I had homemade corned beef hash that was excellent. Again, figure around twenty bucks per person and don't sweat it.
One of my "strategies" to combat the heat was to order a soda or beer with my meal, and get a water on the side. And keep the water coming. It was well over 100 degrees there every day (closer to 110 usually), and I did a fair amount of walking outside, so at mealtimes especially I'd rehydrate like crazy.
Bottled water or soda is going to run $2.00 and up. You can occasionally find an enterprising young man on the street who has a cooler of bottled water for a buck a shot. Drinking fountains are few and far between. So even though you're going to have to pay out the nose for water, you can still save a little by doing what I did and drinking mostly water (and lots of it) during mealtimes.
There are food values to be found, if you look and are willing to go a little out of your way for them. Things like $10 steak dinners and jumbo hot dogs for a buck and such. Once again, do your research beforehand, because they're listed online and often you have to ask the waiter for them as they won't be on the menu. Las Vegas McDonalds is priced mostly like McDonalds at home, but I didn't go to Vegas to eat Big Macs.
A new addition since I last visited are Krispy Kreme donut shops in a few of the casinos. Most just take delivery from the main stores and sell for a buck a shot, any kind. The Excalibur has a big shop, with the entire donut making assembly line behind a glass wall so you can see them go from raw dough to finished glazed perfection in minutes. These are good options for a late night sweet tooth or early morning quickie breakfast.
So that covers shows and food. Next time it'll be attractions (or how I spent 90% of my time), shopping and sightseeing.
On July 11th, Liz and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. As a special treat to ourselves, we planned a trip to the neon desert out in Nevada.
I've been to Las Vegas before. Liz has been to Las Vegas before. But we never had been at the same time. I'm going to post this is sections, because I've got plenty to talk about.
The first day was an odd series of minor annoyances that edged right to the brink of pissing me off, and then somehow, someone would manage to completely defuse my temper. Our daughter Robyn stayed at the house for the week, taking care of the dogs (Fred went to a bunny-sitter because Robyn's allergies won't let her deal with him) and she dropped us off at the airport.
Outside the terminal, you check your bags before you even go in, and it costs $2.00 a bag. I don't know what the deal is, but the line for that was way shorter than the ones inside, so I consider it two bucks well spent. On top of that, the guy gave us the goofiest directions I'd ever heard for what we should do once in the terminal. I asked him to repeat them twice, because he had a helluva accent, and they just didn't make sense. Lucky for us, I listened to the guy and we found ourselves checked in after another brief wait in some out of the way desk with an almost non-existent line.
By the time we got to our gate, Liz was hobbling pretty badly because of her hip. I let the airline desk folks know so that we got to slide in near the beginning because Liz was slow. On top of that, one of the stewardesses got our info so that there would be a wheelchair waiting for us in Vegas. Good deal.
The flight was a non-stop, from Ted, which is United's economy service, on an Airbus 319. I'll tell you now, I'd fly them again, the folks were great in every way. They also did something I'd never seen before. Once we took off and got to cruising altitude, the Captain came on the intercom and announced a game that everyone could play. Pretty silly, I know. Except that the prize was a pair of tickets to see the Blue Man Group, which runs a couple hundred bucks. The game was simple, the Captain gave some clues to consider, and everyone wrote down their guess as to how much our aircraft weighed at takeoff (pounds and ounces). Some of the clues were pretty specific, like:
"We loaded 1,655 gallons of fuel."
"Fuel weighs about 6.71 pounds per gallon."
"Total baggage weight was 1,280 pounds."
Some were a little less specific:
"There are 151 passengers on the flight."
"There are 7 crew members on this flight."
And then the real curve ball:
"A typical short-hop plane that holds 50 people weighs about 120,000 pounds at take off."
"A 747 weighs about 830,000 pounds at take off."
All those numbers are more or less pulled out of thin air, I don't remember specifics. So everyone calculated and guessed and turned their cards into the flight crew. Just before landing, someone way up front was named the winner, missing the real weight by less than 70 pounds I think.
When we got to the Vegas airport, there was no chair waiting. The ground staff claimed they never got the word, and the air crew called BS. After 10 minutes I asked the ground staff to call again, and again 10 minutes later. By now I'm doing a slow simmer, and after 30 minutes on the ground and not seeing the promised wheelchair we decided that we'd just walk to the baggage claim and our shuttle bus to the hotel. As we made our way slowly along, one of the stewardesses from our flight caught up to us and got pissed because the chair never showed up. She snagged someone from the airport staff and made him call directly and let them know where we were. Me, I'm appreciating all the assistance, but would more appreciate some actual results. Liz's hip is just hurting badly. We waited another few minutes and I saw a lady pushing an empty wheelchair go by. I called her over and asked if she was looking for us, but nope. I told her what was going on and she let her supervisor know that she was going to give us a hand. This lady was a joy, and twenty minutes later we'd collected our bag and were sitting at the front of the line for the shuttle bus.
We stayed at the Luxor, the giant pyramidal Egyptian-themed hotel on the strip. Once inside, our first stop was the bell desk to pick up Liz's scooter. We rented a power-chair for the week, because it would make things so much easier for her. It was supposed to be waiting for us at the hotel. When they claimed they didn't have any record of it Liz was trying to calm me down while not losing her own cool. After a short wait, they found the scooter, under the correct name. Turns out the bell clerk had given the wrong name to the people who fetch the chairs which is why they couldn't find it.
First Vegas Tip: If you have any kind of mobility problem, rent an electric wheelchair or scooter. This will be the best spent money during your stay because you'll be doing a *lot* of walking, and there's no point in being miserable while getting around.
At check in, there was a line which was long but moving along nicely. Before we knew it, the floor manager was taking down ropes and signalling Liz to come on through. We were given a little perk because of Liz and the chair and headed right towards the next available clerk.
A word about the Luxor. The lobby is magnificent, with enourmous "stone" obelisks and sphinxes and other statues. Very "Egyptian". I was very much looking forward to our room in the pyramid, with the slanted window wall looking out over the city. One drawback was that the Luxor rooms only have showers, not bathtubs. Very big showers. We figured we'd ask for a shower stool for Liz and call it problem solved. Instead, the check in clerk offered us a free upgrade to the a "handicap equipped" room with a bath and shower, plus it's bigger too (more room for the scooter to get around in). The downside was that the upgrade was in one of the towers. That seemed well worth it to me, trading the slanted window for the tub for Liz. Once in the room though, we quickly discovered that there wasn't a tub, just a built-in shower stool and lots of handicapped bars all over the bathroom. That's ok though, because it was still a big room with a nice view.
Second Vegas Tip: Relax and enjoy the cheesiness. I had been to the lobby and casino areas of the Luxor before. All of the various casinos on the Vegas strip are pretty much alike, but the lobby and shopping areas are where each resort expresses it's "theme". The lobby area of the Luxor is stunning, and I guess I expected the hotel areas to be done up in understated colonial elegance from early-20th century Egypt. Instead you get everything except Tut-on-black-velvet in the rooms.
An hour later, I was trying to figure out what this one handle on Liz's chair did, because it was just hanging there at an odd angle. It came off in my hand, and Liz called the wheelchair place to find out what to do. It turned out to be the locking mechanism for the seat and was supposed to keep it from rotating freely, and had nothing to do with the mobility. I later found another piece of the handle mechanism on the floor of the room. When everyone understood what the problem was, it was agreed all around that the chair was usable as is. Liz and I just wanted to make sure that they were notified so that there wouldn't be any later problems. Once again my temper was defused by common sense and folks who cared about making things right.
I won't talk about the gambling, because I don't gamble. Liz did, mostly the slots, but I personally didn't spend a single cent on games of chance. That's just me.
So if you don't gamble, what the hell are you doing in Vegas? I'll cover that in part 2.
I'm talking about that maple in my backyard. I've had a love/hate relationship with that tree for years. It tried to neuter me, I scalped it halfway up. It's a beautiful tree that totally screws up my yard by where it's at and its massive and shallow root system. Filthy thing too, raining shit down - leaves and/or monkey balls (spiny seed pods) - all year round. Because of this tree, I can't grow much beyond mossy dirt and hostas.
Last night, we had a pop-up thunderstorm sit right over us for a good hour. The sky looked like God's own disco with the strobe effect, and plenty of visible lightning from my front door. Once the torrential rains started in, I watched a couple of huge trees across the street to see if they were going to come down. The wind was impressive. They survived, but my backyard maple got topped.
We discovered it this morning. About 30' of the very top came pretty much straight down into our backyard. The very tips landed across the fence, but not enough to do any damage (thank heavens).
I've already been out toe survey the damage. It's cut up into manageable pieces and dragged out into the back meadow, ready to end up down by the creek.
I like this. Now, if the next storm can take another 30' off, I can call the tree removal company and all they'll need to do is the bare trunk and stump. Yay!
I started going through a bunch of old papers this weekend, throwing most of them out (I'm a major packrat), when I came across my printed archives from the old blogspot version of Rocket Jones. A lot of the original stuff didn't get imported from there because, frankly, it sucked (worse than now). But there were some good posts too, so I'm going to occasionally repost some of them again here.
I'm not going to make a big deal out of it, no announcement about repost or anything, so just enjoy the deja vu if you'd seen it before way back when.
Fred the rabbit loves spinach and kale.
He's only 'eh' about parsley.
He doesn't like mustard greens.
Not really, just something I saw on a bulletin board:
"'alice' was a very important show to the hip-hop community, that show had mad flo"
Almost 6" of rain over the weekend. Trees are down. Basements flooded. Roads flooded. Train tracks flooded.
Scattered rain predicted for the rest of the week.
Yay.
In addition to the crazybusy schedule at work lately, I've been immersed in a couple of rather involved home projects, and some rather unusual (for me) time-eaters.
I'm not much on computer games. I'd rather program 'em than play on 'em, it's just always been my style. But a couple of years ago, I overheard my daughter Mookie talking about playing Starcraft online, and when I found out we could play each other over our home network, I had to give it a try. I liked it, and played pretty steadily for several months, both with and without Rachael. Eventually the phase passed and I hadn't played for better than a year.
Until a couple of weeks ago, that is. I got a bee in my bonnet and reloaded it onto my machine and I've been going through the opening scenarios to relearn the game.
Tonight at a store, I saw the StarCraft Anniversary Set, containing the original game, the BroodWar expansion and some other goodies. For $20, I picked it up. Fun-ness. I'd been playing on a copied CD-ROM, which may have been my backup from the long-lost original. Or it may have been a bootleg, I dunno. Anyways, I now have strictly legal versions and am basking in my law-abidingilityness. That and blasting those Zerg into bloody puddles.
The other time eater is Myst. Rachael and I had it on our PC way back when and enjoyed several hours tootling around and figuring things out. We never got very far, but we never cared all that much. The version I have now is for my iPaq PDA. I bought it to treat myself, and I'm enjoying it very much.
I wonder how long it would take a pack of zerglings to level Myst Island?
I've got a couple of posts ready to go, but they contain images and for some reason Movable Type is being stubborn about actually displaying them.
Minx... Minx... Minx... Minx...
Since beginnings are important, I thought it would be a good idea to officially start Summer 2006 with something personally positive. Fill in the blanks:
Rocket Jones is better than _________________ because it's _______________.
For instance, you might say:
Rocket Jones is better than bondage because it's top-rack dishwasher safe.
That example was totally random. If you want to win, you should give it some thought.
That's right, I said "win"! There will be a prize awarded to the person who submits the best entry. If you've been around a while, you know that my contest prizes don't suck, although if I had a lawyer he'd tell me to reserve that right, so I do.
Leave 'em in the comments.
Yesterday morning, while driving to work, my car was... splashed... with bird poop. I used "pigeon" in the title, but from the amount of it I'd say it was more likely a pteradactyl or a flock of golden eagles. I had to run my windshield washers for quite a while to get most of it off, and when I got to work, I could see where it started halfway up the hood and continued on across the roof almost to the back window. Definitely pteradactyl.
Last night we had a thunderstorm with a nice hard, driving rain. Car looks sparkly clean again this morning.
This is the premier episode of the Rocket Jones Podcast for the Hearing Impaired.
(hum your favorite song as the lead-in)
Yes, I know this is kind of a niche market that I'm aiming towards, but I figure that by being first, I can at least be known as a pioneer.
I'm still working on the format, so bear with me. I'm looking to find some way to stand out from all the other podcasts out there.
(hum a snappy tune for the following)
By the way, your ad can be read heard here! Contact Rocket Jones for rates.
How 'bout that war, eh?
This podcasting stuff is harder than it looks. I think I need to do more prep ahead of time, it takes practice to sound off-the-cuff.
(hum closing music, whatever floats your boat)
Catch you next time on the Rocket Jones Podcast for the Hearing Impaired!
Peanut butter and jelly on a sesame-seed roll.
Odd combination of flavors.
I have a new favorite cracker. Triscuit has a "rosemary and olive oil" flavor out that is amazingly yummy, and WalMart has one of their house-brands with the same taste in a regular type cracker.
To die for.
Rachael did. We received official notice today that I can stop by the high school and pick up her diploma.
Congrats also to my nephew Michael, who also graduated this year.
Oh so predictable:
Of course I'm glad we got Zarqawi, but...
Or maybe there is.
...but at least no more students will be dragged off busses and executed on his orders.
...but at least no more innocent women and children will be blown into bloody rags while shopping at the market on his orders.
...but at least no more Iraqi policemen will be murdered on his orders.
...but at least no more aid workers, journalists, or diplomats will be beheaded on video on his orders.
...but maybe people will quit trying to find the dark cloud in this silver lining. Killing this animal is a good thing.
No buts about it.
I heard one of the most blatant outright lies today on a radio ad about the proposed repeal of the estate tax.
You think it's fair that the mega-rich get a mega-tax break? That money is coming out of somebody's pockets, and it's not the heirs and heiresses.
Furthermore, *not* taxing the deceased isn't taking money out of anybody's pocket, it's *not* your freaking money to begin with. It's theirs! They stop breathing and immediately these assholes lay claim to the bucks, because, you know, they're just evil rich and all.
I don't trust the government. I don't trust a socialist. I don't trust a Democrat. I don't trust a religious zealot.
All of you, stay the hell out of my life. Stay the hell out of my death too.
Update: Duncan left a reasonable comment about this, directing me towards this WaPo article in an effort to clarify their position. In return, I'd ask that you consider this rebuttal to the same article. While you're there at QandO, check out the comments too, as there is lively and (mostly) rational debate of the issue.
I kept hearing about this and was wondering what the heck the fuss was about. I thought they'd moved election day up from November or something. The rhetoric was strikingly similar.
I mean, I wouldn't have his babies or anything, but Pixy Misa, benevolent host and master of Mu.Nu, has done it again. Our MovableType search functions was sloooooooooooooow because of the sheer number of blogs and posts hosted. So Pixy decided to rewrite the seach function to go zooooooooooom instead.
They do indeed, indeed they do. Give it a try, you'll be amazed.
I like this.
A win win win situation. Dig a moat the length of the Mexican border, use the dirt to raise the levies in New Orleans and put the Florida alligators into the moat. Any other problems you would like me to solve?
Hmmm... spam? While we're digging the moat and filling it with gators...
A vehicle with one of those magnetic "support" ribbons, this one was black with purple outlines. The cause?
Support Lap Dancing
I could donate a twenty to that.
I now have a cell phone. I warned my wife that I wasn't going to automatically answer it just because it makes noise at me.
I took today off for an overdue extra long weekend. Even so, Liz woke me up when she left for work at 7 so I could get a few things done.
So let's see... it's just after noon, and I've:
Taken the car in for scheduled service and maintenance.
Gotten a haircut.
Bought some needed items for my new hybrid rocket motors.
Mowed the yard.
Broke the fence while mowing.
Fixed the fence.
Given both dogs a bath.
This afternoon I've got to meet Liz at the car dealership. Her vehicle has a recall against it and she scheduled an appointment to get it taken care of. While that's happening, we'll run a few other errands and then, other than laundry and cleaning the house, we should be completely done with "have to do's" for the holiday weekend. Yippeeeeeee!
These guys write some of the catchiest, smartest songs around.
I was thinking about Abraham Lincoln
And the enemies of truth
But I could not tell a Kennedy
From a John Wilkes Booth
The Rainmakers - "Reckoning Day"
Creating a surface-to-idiot missile is actually quite simple*. Testing it is next to impossible because the guidance system is constantly overwhelmed with targets.
* No, really. It is! I designed one and had it about 95% working. I think there was a problem with a switch though, because every time I turned it on the darn thing would blow up on my workbench.
Update: Thanks to Zoe pointing out the spelling error (now fixed). Maybe it wasn't the switch...
Been way too busy doing things not worth blogging about, and rather than sink to bunny blogging I've just been letting Rocket Jones idle. Except for the hockey playoffs, that is. That's been kept up to date, and now that my beloved Sharks are eliminated (streaky play to the end, rotten time to go cold), I'm looking at the remaining teams and have to say, "Go Sabres".
Maybe, if we all ask nicely, Mookie will share some of her London pictures and stories with us.
We went to the store this evening, and I was wandering the cereal aisle and noticed a box of Captain Crunch. Yum!
Except, this wasn't the Captain I grew up with. The Captain I remember was a kindly old man, in fact, he always reminded me of another Captain, named Kangaroo. Check out this Wikipedia link for a nice picture of the "good" Captain.
Today's Captain Crunch looks like a lunatic escapee from an asylum! The heck with it. The cereal goes into a plastic container in the pantry and I threw the box away. Too creepy. Next time you're in the supermarket, check out the loon on today's box and you'll see what I mean.
Mookie got some PC time from London the other day, so she IM'd Dad. She's having a great time, and told a great story about one day her and a friend had while sightseeing. It seems that they were out and about on May 1st and somehow wound up marching in the socialist's May Day parade. Afterwards, they were within about 20' of the main stage where all the speaker's were talking to the crowd. She said they got tons of flyers and leaflets and a big sign too.
Dad, every conceivable nitwit with a cause was out there. What a freakin' zoo.
That's my girl.
The extended Phipps clan grew by one last weekend with the addition of a new pet.
Meet Fred. He's a Holland Lop.
Liz kinda surprised us all a few weeks ago when she announced that she's always wanted a rabbit. This was news to everyone, because none of the rest of us can ever remember her mentioning it before. I know that she was born on Easter, whatever that may have to do with it.
But I'm nothing if not agreeable, so I told her to do some research and if she really wanted a bunny, then I didn't have a problem with it. Google is your friend, and we also discovered that there is a "Rabbits for Dummies".
I've learned a bit about the little critters, such as mostly they ain't so little. Fred is a bantam by bunny standards, coming in at around 4 pounds. Also, being a lop, his body structure is very different from the short-eared breeds more common out west where I grew up. When Fred hunkers down, he's shaped like a Volkswagen, whereas the wild jackrabbits I hunted in my youth were more upright and lean, built for speed.
Not to say that Fred is a slowpoke. He's already demonstrated an amazing ability to reverse direction on a dime, leaving our dog Trix wondering what the hell just happened during the chase.
The dogs are fine with Fred. Sam, the oldster, could really care less. Trix has mastered the skill of jumping over the baby gate at will, assuming that the barrier is to keep Fred *in*, not him out. Mostly, they're still getting used to each other, with Trix trying to figure out why the new weird dog doesn't act like one.
About the name. Fred's first known name was Severn, as in "Severn River", which is where he was found as a stray (and how do you know a rabbit is a stray?). When he was taken in by the Bunny Rescue people, he was renamed Fast Freddie for his pinball-like speed. According to the pet psychic, he likes the name Fast Freddie. I hate it, but it's better than anything else we've come up with, so by default his name in our house is becoming plain ol' Fred.
Pet psychic? Oh yeah, the Bunny Rescue people have a pet psychic come in to see the rabbits every once in a while. Fred remembers two Springs, so they figure he's two years old. When the lady told us about the pet psychic, she said "this is going to sound goofy...". You know what? She sounded about as goofy talking about the rabbits as I do talking about rockets. Nothing wrong with being passionate about something.
Fred was neutered and microchipped, so he can be tracked and reunited with us in the event of a natural disaster.
He likes dried papaya, spinich and raisins, besides his normal diet of Purina Rabbit Chow and hay. Rabbits are big hay eaters, which I didn't know. He's also litter box trained.
I think he's happy with his new home. At least he hasn't been bitching, but like I said, he's a quiet guy.
I fell asleep early last night on the couch in my den, and woke up around 4am (my usual time) with a stiff back. I went into the sewing room, and sat in my wife's chair because she keeps a heating pad there. Felt gooooooooood.
Not wanting to fall back asleep with the heat on (sitting up? oh yeah, no problem for me), I turned on the TV and looked for something besides those inane infomercials for Jack LaLaine's Power Juicer and the revolutionary new Me Gym.
So I settled on a couple of gardening shows, which was ok, but what I remember is one particular commercial I saw for some dog food. In it, a guy's sitting on the couch reading a book, when his dog comes in (big, beautiful white short-hair breed) and noses his head under the book. The dog is obviously saying "pet me". The guy half turns and goes back to his book, and the dog climbs up into his lap.
Next shot, the dog is laying on the guys lap like an oversized baby while he scratches his belly. Next shot, the dog is sitting in the guys lap with both feet on his shouldeers, washing his face.
The tagline for the commercial was something like "He's more than a dog, he's your best friend".
The commercial closed with one of those time-elapsed bed shots showing you sleeping at different points of time during the night. First, the guy is laying there and the dog is in the bed too, with his head on the guy's hip. Next, the guy is still laying there, but the dog has leaned into him back to back. Finally, the dog is all sprawled across the bed, and the guy (still asleep) is scrunched against the edge of the bed.
Very funny. Very true.
After a while, my back was unkinked so I headed to my own bed. Our dog Trix was curled up on my side of the bed with no inclination to move. I wound up wrapped around him, arm across both the dog and Liz, more crossways on the bed than anything.
Very true.
I've been diddling around with the playoff series table up above, both here on Rocket Jones and on my own space at home. Partly for fun, and partly to sharpen up some new skills for the workplace.
See, I am currently working as a COBOL programmer. I know, I can hear some snickering and even a gasp of disbelief or two. They don't even teach COBOL in school anymore. Which is all well and good, except that there are literally billions of lines of COBOL code out there in the real world, being used every day, and working perfectly well. The only problem is that it's "old", and to many people in today's technological world, "old" = bad.
It's not always true, and luckily for me, I was able to fall back on the ol' COBOL skillset when my last position disappeared because a "new", "good" system was implemented (one that still doesn't work very well two years later, but that's another story). I did mainframe database systems for years and years before this.
But I don't necessarily want to be a COBOL programmer for the rest of my working life, although I probably could. I'm actually a young whippersnapper compared to a lot of the COBOL programmers still working, and that pool of talent is shrinking faster than the remaining need for 'em. One of the best skills to have for the massive Y2K effort was COBOL. Business needed them, and paid dearly because they needed them badly.
So I've been taking classes and doing a lot of home-study. HTML and CSS. I've got a test database built in MySQL and I've started accessing it via PHP to create dynamic web pages. Not a biggie to the guru's out there, but for a mainframe guy this stuff is a whole new way of looking at the world. Kinda like what you went through learning Visual Basic if you knew plain ol' vanilla Basic before that, or OOP when that became the way to go.
Next up is XML and Java, and my company has told me that VB.NET is hot right now.
But at this moment, I've got my NHL Playoff database and I'm learning how to do strange and wondrous things with it. Up top is a standard HTML table, but at some point it might evolve into something interactive. If I figure out how soon enough.
Baby steps... that's how to take it... baby steps.
Yesterday Rachael and I headed to the store to exchange memory cards (#2 on this list). During the day I'd called corporate headquarters and opened a customer complaint case and gotten the name of a local contact who'll handle it.
Because I had an appointment late yesterday afternoon, I didn't have time to raise hell at the store itself. We walked in and a very nice, very knowlegable young man handled the problem. First, new - correct - media. Good deal. Next, I wanted a new camera as well because I might've damaged something trying to put the incorrect cards into the slot (I used a bit of force because we were assured that we had the correct card, so, it *had* to fit, right?). The kid said we'd test the camera first, because he really didn't think I could've damaged it that way. I'm a reasonable guy.
No joy. Camera broked. He went to get another. Got that one out to test it, and it wouldn't initialize correctly. The lens mechanism was jammed or some such right out of the box. He went to check the inventory, but that was the last one they had in stock. I allowed him to steer us over to the camera display to see if we could find an acceptable substitute, but I was pretty picky, finding nit-noid fault with everything he suggested.
With great sadness I told him that I wanted a refund for everything. He was sad too, and apologized to Mookie because now she wouldn't have a camera.
That's when I let him know that a rival chain had an upgraded model on sale, and that we were headed right on over to pick one up.
Memory cards? No, refund those too, because rival chain had 'em for the same price, plus a rebate.
Hanging up on this customer cost them a sale this time, and we won't be going back. I hope that jackass got his jollies doing it, because the last laugh will be mine. I've made it clear to corporate that, as a professional who deals with customer service every day, I know that pulling a stunt like that is a firing offense. I want that nitwit terminated.
(this post sponsored by the apostrophe!)
Lot's been happening around the ol' homestead. In no particular order:
1. Mookie is home from school for a week or so. Then she jets off to London for her theater junket. We shall have a house full of college girls staying over on Tuesday night before they leave. I have already been warned.
2. My wife and Mookie went out yesterday and bought a new digital camera for the trip. They already knew what model they wanted, but the knucklehead who worked there would not let them see the box ("I have to personally carry it up front to the register"). He also sold them the wrong media cards, which my wife would have realized if she'd have been able to read the box. So as annoying as it is having to go back there to exchange the memory cards, when my wife called to complain about it, the department manager copped an attitude, started mouthing off and then hung up on her.
Bad move. Now they have to deal with me. And I've already got corporate's customer service number and a whole evening worth of stewing built up. In fact, I think we might check to see if that camera is available at another store. With luck, Mookie gets her camera, the first store loses the sale (and if the Gods are smiling, chucklehead works on commision), plus I get to be a condescending jerk while I deal with the mental defectives at the original place. Believe me, if I see the salesguy who made the first screw up, he will be referred to as "that idiot" frequently and to his face.
Mistakes happen. This one could have and should have been prevented. And their version of "customer service" made what should have been a minor thing into a huge deal to me. It's personal.
3. The rocket launch this weekend was rained out, for me anyway. I know Russ went on Friday and saw some cool flights (and shreds), but Friday was "experimental" day when the guys who make their own motors fly, and I couldn't take the day off. Saturday rained like a mother all day long, and since the field is a plowed farm field, there was no way I was going to go on Sunday. I prefer music with my mosh pit.
4. Robyn and her new boyfriend and another friend were up on Saturday. Nice guy, she's happy.
5. I used the smoker again on Saturday. Yes, in the rain. I did a whole chicken (which cooked faster than I thought it would), and a roast (which cooked slower than I thought it would), and grilled zuccini, asparagus and pineapple. Toss a loaf of home made bread and home made mac & cheese on the table, and it was some pretty damn fine eatin'! We sent a good bit home with Robyn, and we still have a fair amount of leftovers.
6. Other stressful happenings which I'm not going to get into. These collectively could be filed under "no hilarity ensued".
More later. I mean, more posting... I'm done bitching. I think.
For now.
I use Firefox at home, and the hockey playoff table in the upper right hand corner of the page looks great. This morning I looked at it using IE, and it's a mess. The bad news is that I don't have a lot of time at the moment to muck about with it. The good news is that all of my legally blind visitors will be able to keep up with the scores.
Our older dog, Sam, is terrified of thunderstorms. Last night, we had a doozy of a string roll right over the top of us, and the light and noise show went on for several hours. I know this because I checked the weather radar at 11pm. And midnight. And 1am.
Poor dog, it's not his fault. But when he's in a panic there's just no calming him down, so the best I could do was to lead him into the other room and just be there with him so that Liz could get some sleep. Things finally calmed down, but it's been a long time since I've been pissed off at my alarm clock just for doing its job.
My behind was dragging this morning.
I've talked before about the giant maple tree in my backyard who's sole purpose is to provide enough shade to make growing grass impossible. Keep that in mind, I'll be getting back to it.
My wife, sweetheart that she is, brought a new DVD that she had burned into the den this weekend. She "tivo's" stuff from the satellite dish ("tivo" is quickly going the way of "kleenex" and "aspirin", genericized until the brand name loses its specific meaning), and then burns them to disk.
This DVD was lovingly crafted for me. On it was Thunderbirds, SpiderBabe, and Twenty Million Miles to Earth. Thunderbirds is the recent live-action movie based on the original SuperMarionation series of the 60's. Twenty Million is one of the better Sci-Fi monster movies of black-and-white days, full of Harryhausen stop-animation coolness and a plot that actually makes you care about and feel sorry for the monster. Plus, he's stomping Rome, which is a nice change from Tokyo. Lileks mentioned the movie once, and used a still from it as his banner.
The third movie, SpiderBabe, was a mystery to me. I knew that Liz did channel searches for things like "hockey" and her favorite shows. It turns out that Liz also does a regular check for any Misty Mundae movies coming on (gotta love a woman that'll do that for you). SpiderBabe is one of her latest, very much in the same style of Lord of the G-String and Play-Mate of the Apes: softcore porn featuring plenty of girl on girl action in a low-budget flick that closely follows the plotline of the original movie that it's parodying. Parodying? Is that even a word?
I had the movie on in the background while I was doing some other things, and noticed some familar faces from other movies. I noted something of a trend here too, because Misty gets bitten by a radioactive spider (of course), which is similar to her getting bitten by a mutant spider in Bite Me! Keep that in mind, I'll be getting back to it.
Remember that tree? Ok, good.
Liz also burned all twelve episodes of Showtime's series Masters of Horror onto three DVD's for me this weekend. I was kinda ticked off because there were thirteen episodes, and I didn't get the last one. I recently saw in WalMart that they're releasing them in pairs, one episode per DVD, but I think the price is kinda outrageous. Still, I'll have to get that thirteenth episode, just for completeness' sake.
Then in an email, Blue casually mentioned that the missing episode really was missing. I did a little googling and discovered that the thirteenth episode never aired in the US because it was a little too intense. It did show in the UK, and word is that it's pretty good and yes, pretty intense. I hadn't heard about that before, so thanks!
And on Sunday, Liz calls me into her sewing room (where she does her DVD magic) and tells me that Misty Mundae is in one of the Masters of Horror episodes, billed as "Erin Brown". It's definitely her. She plays a lesbian (natch) who gets bitten by a weird bug (definitely a pattern here). I absolutely loved the nod to her "other" movie career because in this her character's name is "Misty". Good fun.
Note to Blue: Misty Mundae appears in the episode "Sick Girl", about the entymologist and the odd package from Brazil.
Note to everyone else: This series rocks. Being Showtime, you get major gratuitous nudity plus fairly gruesome gore, and the stories themselves aren't terrible.
In other news, I waited for someone to happen by and hand me my sign because I did something Pretty Damn Stupid on Sunday morning (yes, that's capitalized on purpose). I was up early so I let the dogs out into the backyard. I started some laundry and then wandered out back and checked on the new smoker, wanting to bring it under the eaves since it looked like rain. I took it apart and felt the charcoal pan for heat (it was cool to the touch), so I carried it out behind the house and dumped it at the base of the holly tree near my back fence. I've been using that tree as my personal compost heap for 16 years. Turning the pile, adding to it, and putting the rich end-product back into my flower beds.
A little later I went down to throw the laundry into the dryer, and saw smoke come pouring over and through my back fence. I knew immediately what was going on, so I quickly put on some shoes, grabbed the back yard hose (on full blast), and dragged it out the back gate.
Sonuvabitch if that compost heap wasn't merrily smouldering away. Like one of those peat fires that burn for years, I didn't see any actual flame, but there was lots of smoke. My neighbor had spotted it too and beat me there by less than a minute, so we stood there and bullshitted and put out the fire I started. When I mentioned the new smoker, he said it was a good one, "big enough for a whole tree".
After a bit we heard sirens in the background. I was hoping that someone hadn't seen the smoke and called the fire department because I felt dumb enough already. When they sounded closer I told Mike that he should head back inside so as not to be there when the firemen came around behind the houses.
The firefighters never did show (sorry Susie), so I drenched the pile thoroughly and turned it a couple of times with a pitchfork to make sure everything got a soaking.
Later, I told Liz about it. She asked which tree it was that I tried to set on fire, and when I told her she only said "wrong tree". Referring to the maple. You did remember, right?
I logged into CPanel this evening, which I haven't done in quite some time. We Munuvians have all these fantastic tools and toys available via CPanel, thanks to superhost Pixy Misa.
So I started poking around, confirming that I do indeed have access to PHP and MySQL here on Rocket Jones, and I got curious about the various stats counters and routines offered. Looking at the last 300 visitors, I quickly realized that a *lot* of people are hotlinking to my San Jose Sharks logo, and most of those bandwidth thieves are MySpacers. One bozo even hotlinked one of my graphics and was using it as his forum avatar, and this chucklehead was a prolific poster on some, ah, interesting, forums.
Luckily, we have hotlink prevention tools here at Munuviana, and I arranged it so all those dOOdz get the ol' red-X from her on. They're lucky I didn't redirect their links to something, ah, interesting.
Check out the Rocket Jones Skunkworks and see what the future might look like around here. Let me know what you think.
Thanks.
Sir Noel Coward:
"Of course, the age-old tradition that a star must appear even if he or she is practically dying is an excellent one, but it can be carried too far. I one played a performance of The Knight of the Burning Pestle with a temperature of 103 and gave sixteen members of the company mumps, thereby closing the play and throwing everybody out of work. There may be a moral lurking somewhere in this, but I cannot for the life of me discover what it is."
We saw Coward's Private Lives this weekend. Mookie was the lead costume designer and recreated a 1930's era evening gown from photographs she found on the internet.
Update: Rachael sent the picture that she used to recreate the dress. Her version was vivid red and done in some satiny material. (in the extended entry)
Lowe's Hardware is trying real hard to join the short list of places I'll never set foot in again unless looting is involved. My mother-in-law sent me a gift card from there for Christmas, and this week in the mail arrived a $10.00 off a $50.00 purchase. Hey, I was good to go.
So I made a list and checked it twice. It wasn't full of odd or unusual items, just a few tools and doo-dads that I'll be needing as I move up to bigger rockets, plus a couple of things for household repair chores.
After a half an hour, I'd managed to find one (!!!!) item from my list, and that item cost less than a dollar. Quite a bit less. I'm used to this kind of futility from Home Depot (it's got a French word in the name, which explains the extreme suck), but Lowe's was really letting me down.
Liz was trying to guide me out before I burst a vein because I was so frustrated and pissed off. Even the "friendly, professional help" wasn't. And I swear there were only a few people out on the floor. It was like assigning six ushers to cover the Super Bowl.
Making one last attempt to find something, anything else on the list, we veered off the main aisle and ran smack into the barbeques. I'm now the proud owner of a new charcoal smoker, which is something I've wanted for a while. So I'm happy about that, even if I'm still annoyed about not finding the rest of the stuff I went in there for in the first place.
Robyn came up from school for a couple of days, and I was pretty merciless about teasing her.
But I think she realizes that I love her, because I let her sleep with my care bears sheets.
My wife reached under the sink, grabbed the Febreze upholstery freshener and spritzed the entire main floor. When she went to put the bottle away, she realized that she'd accidentally grabbed the Windex.
Chutzpah! With a heaping helping of poetic justice.
Me: So you snuck into the bar to drink even though you were under the legal age.Plaintiff: Yeth.
Me: And an older gentleman bought drinks from the bar and gave them to you all night long, so that nobody would find out that you were underage.
Plaintiff: Yeth.
Me: And you were... let's see... almost three times over the legal limit for operating a motor vehicle when you left the bar.
Plaintiff: Yeth.
Me: And in the parking lot, you climbed up onto a pickup truck's tailgate, at which point you passed out and fell face first to the pavement. The impact shattered your teeth, lips and gums.
Plaintiff: Yeth.
Me: Wow-
Plaintiff's lawyer: YOUR HONOR, I OBJECT!!! He's going to call my client "stupid".
Judge: Sustained.
Me: Your honor, "stupid" is a given. However, "graceful" isn't.
Me: You never realized that piping music directly into your ear at high volume could damage your hearing?Plaintiff: No.
Me: Wow. You're stupid.
Putting a roll cage on your jeep impresses the ladies.
Painting a roll pattern on your jeep, not so much.
A pop up ad for weight loss surgery.
What they envision:
Dude, you mean I can get ready for the Summer beach trips *and* save big bucks doing it? I am so there!
Reality: posts like this.
I was griping last weekend about my personal head-start on the Summer cold season. I spent all weekend in bed, managed to work a half day Monday but felt lousy enough to take Tuesday off. Yesterday I cried uncle and called the doctor because the sore throat just wasn't getting better, and left work early today for the appointment.
Turns out I have Tracheitis, which is kind of a bacterial infection that settles into the windpipe instead of going north to become a sinus infection, or south to become bronchitis. I'm running a slight fever (which I didn't realize), and antibiotics have been prescribed. It's a good thing I went in, because this stuff can cause enough swelling to block off the airway.
It's supposed to rain and snow tonight. I've already let work know I'm probably not going in tomorrow.
My wife told me to quit whining. I called her Nurse Ratchet. Bad move.
And lo, the worker was given to construct a vehicle to convey information, and it was simple. Yet he toiled mightily, said vehicle being tossed to and fro amongst the waves of conflicting priorities.
And the worker was chastised for the delay.
From on high, the original requester was given to using faulty logic, as explained by Werner Von Braun:
"Crash programs fail because they are based on theory that, with nine women pregnant, you can get a baby in a month."
And when the duplication of effort was discovered, it was also revealed that the worker now had two conflicting sets of instructions to accomplish said task.
And the worker was chastised for the delay.
So with patience and fresh resolve, he worked with the requester to define the precise requirements and once achieved, set them into stone.
Three times.
When the requester said, "it would lighten my heart to see an adjustment made to the headlights," the worker did adjust the headlights and looked and saw that it was good.
And the requester looked upon it and said, "that is good, but those are not the headlights that needed adjustment." Upon which the requester pointed to the tires.
And the worker was chastised for the delay.
And lo, finally the vehicle was complete and ready for testing. When the worker discovered a blind-spot in a mirror, he brought it up to the requester, so that the worker might truthfully say that the task was thoroughly accomplished.
And the requester said, "a problem that will not be, just make it work like this other vehicle," upon which the requester pointed towards a shoe.
And the worker will be chastised for the delay.
Rocket Jones is number 2 on the Google search for "how to meet a guy in the grocery store".
Number 1 is "The Best Places to Meet Gay Men".
I'm not sure what to think about that.
To all those cheering the "defeat" of President Bush on his stupid idea to let Dubai run American seaports, I have only one thing to say:
Dubya just made you his bitch.
Now Dubai will sell their interest to an American company. A company owned, no doubt, by a wealthy friend of President Bush. Meaning one of his rich friends just got a whole lot richer. And you asked... no, you demanded it. Just like he planned all along.
If it's Halliburton, I will laugh until I cry.
They found the body.
Note: If this offends you, I don't want to hear it. Go burn down an embassy or something.
I'm admittedly biased because I'm a Giants fan and a Barry Bonds fan, but this latest rash of headlines about Bonds starting to use "a vast array" of performance enhancing drugs in 1998 is bullshit.
The book was written by two newspaper reporters who covered the BALCO steroid scandal. Their sources? Nothing new, just the same trial transcripts, interviews and other documents that Major League Baseball, Congress and law enforcement authorities have had all along. And, you know, Bonds is soooo busted by what's there.
Not.
This is a rehash of old information, hyped to boost book sales. Does Barry Bonds have a history of cheating? I have no idea, but I do know that up to this point, despite numerous investigations and allegations, no one has been able to prove a thing.
Two "reporters" trash someone's name in order to make a buck. What a surprise.
I was sad when Kirby Puckett was forced to retire from baseball because glaucoma made him blind in one eye. I'm stunned that he's passed away at age 44 from a stroke.
Thank you, Kirby, for all the joy you displayed on the field, and for showing us all that you could be great and still have fun playing the game.
Eat a live bug every morning when you wake up, and nothing worse will happen to you all day long.
70's music.
Do you remember back in old L.A. (Oh, oh, oh)
When everybody drove a Chevrolet (Oh, oh, oh)
Whatever happened to the boy next door
The sun-tanned, crew-cut, All-American male?
Disco. Bee Gees. Tavares. Donna Summer.
Beach baby, beach baby, give me your hand
Give me something that I can remember
Just like before we can walk by the shore in the moonlight.
The radio was filled with cheesy fun like Carl Douglas singing about Kung Fu Fighting and Paper Lace telling us about The Night Chicago Died. Disco Duck. Rubberband Man.
Beach baby, beach baby, there on the sand
From July to the end of September
Surfin' was fun we'd be out in the sun every day.
The Sound of Philadelphia. Average White Band. Wild Cherry. Tower of Power.
Ooooh, I never thought that it could end
Ooooh, and I was everybody's friend
Long hot days
Blue sea haze
Jukebox plays
But now it's fading away
Rick James. Sly and the Family Stone. Earth, Wind & Fire. Marvin Gaye.
We couldn't wait for graduation day (Oh, oh, oh)
We took the car and drove to San Jose (Oh, oh, oh)
That's where you told me that you'd wear my ring
I guess you don't remember anything.
Johnny Cash. Loretta Lynn. Marty Robbins.
Surfin' was fun we'd be out in the sun every day.
Black Sabbath. Robin Trower.
California in the 70's. Freakin' paradise.
You drive straight stretches like Shirley Muldowney and you weave in and out of traffic like the Keystone Kops. The fact that you drive a Prius decorated with Habitat for Humanity and Save the Bay stickers doesn't make you an environmentally-conscientious world citizen.
It makes you a clueless prick.
On my way home from work this afternoon I stopped at the grocery store. Now normally I enjoy grocery shopping because I like to cook almost as much as I like to eat. The store I usually go to is pretty good, mainly because it's very convenient to get in and out. But it also seems to be a magnet for the mentally ill.
When it's nice out, there's one old nut-lady who sits out front and chatters away at everyone who comes and goes. Occasionally she'll wander inside and count the carts.
A very occasional visitor is "the preacher", who will try his best to strike up a conversation with you, which quickly turns religious. Come along about the second sentence you direct at him, he starts slipping random items into your cart. The first time he did this to me, I asked him what he was doing, and he explained that a good christian man like myself wouldn't begrudge a few groceries to someone in need. I had to laugh because he just grabs whatever is closest and acts like you'll never notice what he's doing. That day he caught me in a mixed-goods aisle and he wanted me to buy him a bottle of maple syrup, a potholder, dental floss and a home pregnancy test. He always blesses you, even when you make him take his stuff out of your cart.
Today was the first time I met the new loon. He's a tall thin guy, and at first I mistook him for a regular customer. He came in as I was headed towards the checkout lanes, and got in line behind me holding a bottle of wine. The lines were all hosed up because someone called in sick and someone couldn't stay late to cover and all that happy nonsense that you get when you try to manage a workforce comprised of motivated (hah!) high school dropouts confronted with that inexplicable rush at shift change. Next thing you know, wine-loon is in the managers face about opening up more registers because (as he grandly swept his arm around to include us all), there were important people waiting, and he should treat his customers better. I had to laugh.
The manager grabbed the wine from the loon and shoo'd him out. He came right back in, still incensed about the lines, and this time followed by lady-nut, who was scolding him for bothering people. They were escorted back outside (gently and nicely, kudos to the manager). When I left, lady-nut was on the pay phone (she spends hours talking to herself) and the loon was taking all the carts from the front of the store and neatly putting them in the cart-corral at the farthest end of the parking lot.
Hilarious.
I was cutting fin slots in the new rocket's airframe last night, using a Dremel with a brand new fiberglass reinforced cutting wheel, and as the disk whined it's way through the tubing it occurred to me that the noise was probably exactly like what running a frozen cat through a band saw would sound like.
Hello all, I hope you had a nice weekend. My wife and I travelled south to visit Rachael and see her first college production, Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado. It seems that people either love or loath Gilbert and Sullivan, and I'm firmly in the love camp. Naughty humor and moral dilemmas, served up with a heaping helping of satire and sarcasm.
Rachael's kimonos were beautiful.
Liz had to work today, so I built a larger set of shelves for my DVD collection (outgrew the last set) and putzed around the house doing laundry and such. I also watched a couple of movies that I may review later. You know my attitude is "zombies forever", but after the latest mummy jones I've been slaking my thirst for vampire flicks and boy howdy, do I have some doozies to tell you about!
I also have a new banner in mind. Everyone I've told thinks that it's funny, so now I must stretch my photoshop skills to do it justice.
As a designated cronie of the Ministry of Minor Perfidy, I would be remiss not to mention that they're hosting this week's Carnival of the Recipes (apocolyptic aftermath edition).
I now have a Rocket Jones frapper map. Stop by and stick a pin in it. Do the ol' virtual voodoo.
Posting will remain irregular while I continue to deal with some ongoing matters, but I'm still around and occasionally do get a chance to visit my friends on the blogroll.
Take care and have fun. Hope to be back soon.
First, I would've loved to have been one of the special effects guys on those old movies. Models and miniature sets, explosions and fire everywhere. Too much fun to be called work!
Secondly, every Japanese movie monster got pissed off at something humans did, whether it was intentional or not. The monster's reaction was to immediately begin to destroy everything in its path, and kept the tantrum going until he got his way or someone stronger came along and kicked his ass. I never realized that Godzilla was a muslim.
I half-expect to find virtual Hoffa buried deep in some forgotten directory.
It was rather surreal. Ladies hockey, the arena music starts in and it's La Bamba. So I'm watching Sweden vs. Russia, playing in Italy, and a Mexican folk song sung by an American teenager gets the crowd fired up.
Later they played the Banana Boat song made famous by Belefonte (Deyyyy-oh!).
Even later, I watched the USA ladies dominate the Swiss.
This bug, whatever it is, has officially kicked my ass. I've been dueling with it for more than a week, and even took last Friday off in the hopes of getting over it once and for all. No joy. I left work early yesterday, came home and napped, then slept 13 hours last night (not uninterupted, as there were two nocturnal dashes made to the loo), and still felt rotten this morning, so I called in. Bah.
Not that I'll use the "free" time to catch up on blogging, mind you. Unless you want to see the ugly and venomous side of me, 'cuz I'm not in a good mood.
Later.
So, where the hell have I been? I can hear you asking, or maybe it's just the voices. It's partly complicated, and partly work-related, and partly none of your business (which I realize goes completely contrary to my blogging style, but oh well).
Work related part: If you've gotten your W2's or 1099's already, then find the person responsibile for it in your universe and hug them or buy them lunch, for they probably worked their asses off to get it done. Trust me on this one.
Complicated part: I have claimed the small bedroom upstairs as my own. It was originally my son's bedroom, and then became the sewing room when he left home. When the girls flew the coop left the next, Mom took the big bedroom as her sewing room and the small room became the guest room. Screw that. Guests can sleep on the floor.
The room has been renamed the "North Den" and I'm in the process of moving in. So far it contains an ultra-comfortable couch/hideabed, a large television with DVD and VCR, bookshelves, and my entire collection of cinematic masterpieces.
What it does not contain is a PC, although I tried this weekend to remedy that, but the *#^@&!!! wireless refuses to detect our network. One possible solution is to move the PC into a corner of the sewing room where there is a wired connection to our network. Less than optimal, but not terrible.
I've also been experiencing some wrist pain, ala early warning signs of the dreaded carpal tunnel. I've cut back on my computer time, which means surf time at home because my profession means mucho working with at the office. I have a new wrist brace, which is working well. I'm considering dying it black and adding chrome studs. Or maybe I'll just claim excessive masturbation due to a viagra addiction. Either has to be better than the truth.
None of your business part: self-explanatory, except that it has nothing to do with viagra addiction.
So I'm around, just not as much. Been really, truly, insanely busy. I had some cool movies lined up to watch and then review, but got wonderfully distracted by the Mummy Legacy Collection (watched six Mummy movies since Thursday night).
Not enough hours in a day, not enough years in a lifetime. I've got to get hold of some of those tannah leaves.
For those who may be curious, here's an update on the girls.
Our oldest daughter Robyn is quietly putting the finishing touches on her college education. She's working two jobs, getting good grades, and is looking forward to graduating, after which she'll prosper. I have no doubt about that.
Rachael (Mookie), on the other hand, does nothing quietly. She made the Dean's List in her first semester and is preparing for a three week-long school trip to London this Spring. As exciting as that sounds, she may be even more hyped over a possible summer job. She's been offered a chance to be Wardrobe Mistress at an opera house near Montecello in central Virginia. Besides pay, the job comes with an apartment. A lot of it will be the typical scut work that all newbies have to endure at the start of a career, but all experience is valuable.
Proud Papa, signing off.
Recently, at my wife's work:
Lady: Those are beautiful earrings.Wife: Thank you. They were a Christmas present from my husband.
Lady: He's either very nice or he was very naughty.
Wife: He's very nice.
Lady: Then *you* must have been very naughty.
LOL
...skewered onto the pointy nose of the Concorde. It's been insanely busy and hectic around the ol' homestead lately, hence the relative quiet around Rocket Jones. Count your blessings, people.
I have been doing *some* visiting, but at the end of the day I'm usually so burnt out that I just fire up the aggregator and skim sites that way.
What Ahnold said.
Our power just came back on a little bit ago. It went out early yesterday afternoon. In almost 16 years living here, that 22 hour stretch sans electricity exceeded the old record by about 16 hours.
The culprit is the wind. It's been relentless for the last couple of days, and trees and power lines are down all over the area. Throw in intermittent rain, some blowing snow and bone-chilling wind chill temps, and it's been fun fun fun.
We couldn't get an estimate on how long before power would be restored, so I took matters into my own hands and this morning headed to the grocery store for bags of ice. Not two hours later the lights flickered on. It always happens that way, you just have to use it to your advantage, eh?
In the meantime, our monthly club rocket launch was scrubbed. We can deal with rain and snow and most everything else Mother Nature can fling, but we can't launch in high winds. And of course, today is bright and sunny and the wind is still whipping ass, so no rockets for Ted this weekend.
On the plus side, it's amazing how much stuff you can get done when you're not parked in front of the computer.
I talked about Freedom Park in Rosslyn, Virginia, and how one of the exhibits is an actual segment of the Berlin wall (nine complete sections) and an East German guard tower.
For the last couple of days, they've had the street blocked off so that they could remove those pieces of the wall and relocate them to the new home of the Newseum in downtown DC. Not that anyone asked me for my opinion, but I personally think those historic barriers belong in Freedom Park, not in a museum dedicated to news.
My wife calls me on her way to work every morning. From the other day:
Wife: My battery's dead.Me: How did that happen?
Wife: I don't know.
Me: Did you leave your lights on?
Wife: My cell phone battery, not my car.
Me: Oh.
Wife: You think like a guy.
To be precise, I think like a guy who doesn't own a cell phone.
As they say, read the whole thing.
No, seriously. Rocket Jones is one long, extended highlight.
Although judging from my email, I've already hit bottom in 2006 with the Dick Clark joke.
Go me!
We'll be spending the afternoon cheering on the Washington Capitals as they take on the hated Philadelphia Flyers. In addition to Mrs. Rocket Ted, Mookie, and our son, we will be joined by Dawn, Nic, and Victor.
Special thanks to Nic for arranging this and getting the tickets. If we get into a brawl with those lowlife inbred Philly drunkards overly-boistrous Flyers fans, I'll make sure to post pictures.
Update: What a game!!! The Capitals won 4-3 in a shootout. Forsberg was amazing, and Ovechkin was even more so. Great company, great times. Happy New Year to everyone!
Oh, and... Yay Hats!!!
Actor Michael Vale, best known for his appearances on Dunkin' Donuts commericials ("it's time to make the donuts"), has died from complications of diabetes at age 83.
I have this brown spot on the back of my hand, below the base of my thumb knuckle.
Liz thinks it's an age spot, but I've had it for years, and it's the only one. I look at it, and wonder if all the caucasion skin cells on my hand didn't get together and decide that all the darker skin cells should be segregated into their own little area. If they did, and the darker skin cells ever decide to rebel, they're sitting right at the base of my thumb, where they can take over an important digit and really raise hell.
I just wish they could all get along, like on my shoulders, where the freckles have co-existed peacefully for years with the rest of me.
So Italy issues an arrest warrant for 22 American CIA agents.
What will probably happen is that we'll ignore it, but wouldn't it be fun instead to kidnap a bunch of Italian aid relief workers in Iraq? Demand a dismissal of the charges or we'll make them sit in a cold room and listen to disco or something equally evil. Trust me, the Italian government will cave.
Next to one of those ubiquitous "How Is My Driving?" signs on the back of a truck, some wag had scrawled in the dirt, "Like Steve McQueen".
A crusty old Sergeant Major found himself at a gala event, hosted by a local liberal arts college. There was no shortage of extremely young, idealistic ladies in attendance, one of whom approached the Sergeant Major for conversation.
She said, "Excuse me, Sergeant Major, but you seem to be a very serious man. Is something bothering you?"
"Negative, ma'am," the Sergeant Major said, "Just serious by nature."
The young lady looked at his awards and decorations and said, "It looks like you have seen a lot of action."
The Sergeant Major's short reply was, "Yes, ma'am, a lot of action."
The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation, said, "You know, you should lighten up a little. Relax and enjoy yourself."
The Sergeant Major just stared at her in his serious manner.
Finally the young lady said, "You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but when is the last time you had sex?"
The Sergeant Major looked at her and replied, "1955."
She said, "Well, there you are. You really need to chill out and quit taking everything so seriously! I mean, no sex since 1955! Isn't that a little extreme?"
The Sergeant Major, glancing at his watch, said in his matter-of-fact voice, "You think so? It's only 2130 now."
Did you know that Al Zarquawi was live-blogging the Iraqi elections?
Thanks to Transterrestrial Musings for the pointer.
I'm happy to announce that until further notice, Rocket Jones will now be a group blog.
I'm still the only writer, but I'm trying to shame myself into losing these extra pounds I'm carrying.
I got pulled over this morning on my way to work. I was on I-395, less than a mile from my exit, when the blues started flashing behind the grille of an unmarked trooper car.
I pulled out my wallet and license, opened my glove box and pulled out the envelope full o' stuff that came with the car (just bought it last week, remember?), turned off the radio and rolled down the window, and waited.
Me: Good morning.Trooper: Good morning. Do you know why I pulled you over?
Now, seriously, is there any answer to this other than "no"? How many people actually admit that they were doing something wrong?
Trooper: You didn't realize that you were speeding and passing people?Me: No sir.
Ok, now we've established that I'm a liar and we both know it. In this situation, it's expected. I've handed him my license and and going through all the paperwork that came with my car. I know that there has to be some sort of registration in there. I find *three* different ones for my old truck, but nothing for this car. The whole time, he's talking to me.
Trooper: You didn't see me? You passed me and I pulled in behind you and paced you for a while as you passed that whole string of cars.Me (still riffling through papers): No sir.
Trooper: You were travelling at speeds up to 75 miles per hour.
Me (all surprised): Really?
Finally, I find something pink that looks official, and it's my temporary registration. I hand it over, he tells me to stay in the car, and goes back to his troopermobile. I do a little mental math (yeah, I can afford the ticket), and laugh at the situation. I'm pissed at myself for being stupid. Did I notice him back there? Of course I did. Did I know he was a cop? Nope. Now, I have a question for him as well. Did he realize that he was my wingman as we strafed that line of fighters parked on the enemy tarmac passed that line of cars? I think not. A wingman wouldn't treat his buddy this way.
The trooper came back and handed me my license and registration. He didn't write me a ticket, just told me to be more aware of what I was doing and what was going on around me. It probably helped that I've only had one ticket in the last fifteen years, and it wasn't for speeding (you don't have to go fast when chasing down feral grannies).
I hope that the kindness was because he was filled with holiday spirit, because it's a little frightening to think that being a clueless idiot excuses that kind of driving. I didn't ask, because sometimes I *do* know when to keep my mouth shut.
I wished him a Merry Christmas and was on my way.
Quote from an editorial by Mark Steyn:
Dean arguing that America can't win in Iraq, Barbara Boxer demanding the troops begin withdrawing on Dec. 15, John Kerry accusing American soldiers of terrorizing Iraqi women and children, Jack Murtha declaring that the U.S. Army is utterly broken. Pepper 'em with a handful of "Praise be to Allahs" and any one of those statements could have been uttered by Zarqawi.
Found at Transterrestrial Musings.
I've seen a new headache remedy lately on commercials. It looks a little like a stick deoderant, and you rub it across your forehead to deliver whatever anti-headache medicine it contains.
A few questions arise:
1. Headaches occur within the brain, correct? How is rubbing medicine on your skin going to help, since even after being absorbed there's that little barrier called your skull between the medicine and your brain?
2. If it absorbs into your bloodstream, wouldn't it make more sense to rub it in under your arm or on the inside of your thigh, where major arteries lie? It seems that the medicine would be absorbed and distributed quicker. Even along your jugular makes more sense.
Ok, so "few" = two. Got any answers?
Yesterday:
Wife: They cleared another patch of woods on Minnievale.Ted: What?!?!? Jeeezus, what are they building now?
Wife: Another church.
Ted: This area is going to hell.
We looked at each other and started giggling.
Rachael had one of her college friends up for the weekend while Liz and I were out of town. When we got back this afternoon, Rachael matter-of-factly mentioned that they'd had a few more friends over yesterday and had wound up with a stripper's pole set up in the living room. I chuckled and the conversation moved on to other things.
Later, while putting away luggage, I found a large container leaning in the corner of the living room. It was a stripper pole set that was given to Rachael's friend as a belated birthday present!
So yeah, in Rocket Jones' living room were pretty teenage college girls doing some pole dancing. And I'm not posting pictures. Neener neener.
Daughter Rachael (aka Mookie) is home for Christmas break, so my wife and I decided to take advantage and left her to take care of the remaining children dogs while we got the hell outta Dodge.
Liz had some free hotel nights saved up, so this morning I find myself blogging from Martinsburg, West Virginia courtesy of the free WiFi offered by the hotel.
"Almost Heaven" is a whole 'nother world compared to the DC metro area. We pretty much finished off Christmas shopping yesterday at a couple of malls in the area, and it was mostly pleasant and painless (aside from the constant bells - I'm beginning to really hate the Salvation Army). Even the lines were short.
Mental note: Never enter another Old Navy. They're assholes and ripoff artists playing the bait-and-switch game. We were polite and pleasant and got great satisfaction from leaving a heaping pile o' clothes at the register and walking out. We weren't going to let that spoil our good mood.
I did say "mostly pleasant" though, because as the day wore on, people were notably more aggresive and you could tell that nerves were frayed. After a late lunch/early dinner, we went to a super WalMart for stocking stuffers and such and I saw what happens when grannies go feral.
Two elderly ladies were racing (for elderly ladies, that is) for the short line from different directions. As the last second, one cuts off the other one with a bold move and drags her cart into line and snags the coveted spot. I watched, fascinated, as the loser of the race began repeatedly banging her cart into the other lady's cart. I was conflicted, because these two frail women could have really hurt each other, yet I was hoping they'd escallate and really get into it. I was tempted to run back into toys and grab a couple sets of clearance-priced talking Hulk Hands and letting them duke it out. But, alas, I lost my wife in the teeming throng again and had to begin the search pattern to find where she'd wandered off to.
At one point, some sales lady laughed at me as I waited in the cosmetics aisle and said I looked like I didn't want to be standing there. I told her she was crazy, that I *loved* that aisle, because it was occupied by me and my wife alone, we were out of the milling crowds and I wasn't dodging forty other shoppers just to get from one end to the other. One young lady did try to enter our refuge, but she left as I started fanning my ass and loudly appologized to my wife for having such horrible gas.
It's a jungle out there, and I'm not above a little chemical warfare. Truth be told though, it was psychological warfare. Purely a decoy move.
So yes, I loved my blessedly empty little cosmetics aisle, my oasis of calm. I was inspired enough to wonder why nobody had ever done a WalMart of the Living Dead movie (redundant?).
But we survived the day with our sanity and cheer, and I'm reminded once again why I've never shopped during the month of December for at least the last ten years.
I hope all my Secret Santa buds like their gifts. They're all getting makeup.
This came from the December issue of our local Community Connection Magazine:
The next time you hear a politician use the word "billion" casually, think about whether you want the politician spending your tax money.A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency did a good job of putting that figure into perspective in one of its releases.
- A billion seconds ago it was 1959.
- A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.
- A billion days ago our ancestors were living in the stone age.
- A billion years ago no one walked on two feet on earth.
- A billion dollars ago was only 8 hours and 20 minutes at the rate the government spends it.
No, I haven't checked the figures. I can get the point without being anal about it.
Not really, but I like the way that title rolls off the tongue.
Playoffs begin this week in the Blogger fantasy football league. Mostly by managing to stay healthy, the Rockets finished the season in second place with an 11-3 record. One loss was to the first place finisher, and two were to the team that ended up in third.
I get a bye in the first round of playoffs (go me!) and then we'll see what happens. My biggest challenge all year has been deciding which pair of middling receivers to play each week, because on any given Sunday some random two of them will have a great game, and as often as not I've left them on the bench.
Celebrating and/or whining forthcoming.
I think it's funny that there's a baseball player named Merkin Valdez.
The "merkin" part, anyways.
I was asked to DJ for my wife's office Christmas party last night. Christmas music during cocktails and dinner and then dance music afterwards. Because it's a rather diverse group of people ranging from their 20's to 60's, putting together a playlist for dancing was a challenge, but one that I'd dealt with before when I used to DJ at the American Legion for "family night" dances. I assumed that the older people would leave earlier, so tried to front load the playlist towards them. Towards the end, I set up a bunch of commonly requested songs. Also, so that I could enjoy the party too, it was suggested that I just bring some CD's that I could put on and let play, rather than sit there and work. So with that in mind, I put together a few dance CD's containing everything from country to funk to rock. It went well enough, but I was reminded of the DJ rules:
1. Never leave your equipment alone, because people will play with it.
When the dance music started, a few folks decided that it was too loud and turned down the volume so that they could talk. In turn, the folks who wanted to dance would crank it back up. It got to be a silly little pissing contest.
Later, the people dancing wanted more volume, but since I'd brought a limited setup rather than the whole system, we had the volume maxed out. It wasn't bone thumping, but it was good enough. Well, except for the yahoos who managed to shut the whole thing down *three times* by fiddling with buttons at random.
2. In a mixed group like this, everyone is going to hate something you play.
The younger group wanted more fast rock, the older folks wanted more country and slow dance music. Of course, everyone tells the DJ how lousy his music choices are, at different times depending on what's currently playing.
3. The DJ is always the last to leave, and nobody helps haul the equipment back to your car.
Oh well, I had fun anyway, and there were several couples dancing. For all the griping, I did notice that most everyone knew the music too and there were plenty of people "dancing" in their seats.
The playlists are in the extended entry, for the bored and/or curious.
Dance 1
The Motown Song - Rod Stewart
Dela - Johnny Clegg
Lady Love - Lou Rawls
What A Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong
Shake Your Groove Thing - Peaches & Herb
Give Me the Night - George Benson
Boot Scootin' Boogie - Brooks & Dunn
Guitars, Cadillacs - Dwight Yoakum
Behind Closed Doors - Buddy Rich
Sure Feels Good - Elvin Bishop
She Drives Me Crazy - Fine Young Cannibals
Walk Like An Egyptian - The Bangles
You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate
The Game of Love - Michelle Branch & Carlos Santana
Heaven - Los Lonely Boys
Tub Thumping - Chumbawumba
Big Yellow Taxi - Counting Crows
Waterfalls - TLC
I Can't Help Falling In Love - UB40
Dance 2
Baby Likes to Rock It - The Tractors
Bing Bang Boom - Highway 101
Crazy - Patsy Cline
Don't Be Stupid - Shania Twain
Down at the Twist and Shout - Mary Chapin Carpenter
The Truth About Men - Tracy Byrd
Rush Rush - Paula Abdul
Moonlight Feels Right - Starbuck
Dancing in the Moonlight - King Harvest
Together Again - Janet Jackson
Your Love Keeps Lifting Me - Jackie Wilson
Let's Get It On - Marvin Gaye
The Boys Are Back In Town - The Busboys
Brick House - The Commodores
September - Earth, Wind & Fire
Never My Love - 5th Dimension
1985 - Bowling for Soup
We Got the Beat - The Go-Go's
All-Star - SmashMouth
Unskinny Bop - Poison
Dance 3
Have I Told You Lately - Emilio (Spanish version - very beautiful)
Wild Wild Life - Wailing Souls
Hillbilly Rap - Neal McCoy
Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye - Neal McCoy
I'll Take You There - Staple Singers
Give Me Just A Little More Time - Chairmen of the Board
Oh Girl - Chi-Lites
Short Skirt, Long Jacket - Cake
Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind
As I Lay Me Down to Sleep - Sophie B. Hawkins
Love Shack - B52's
Y.M.C.A. - Village People
If You Wanna Be Happy for the Rest of Your Life - Jimmy Soul
Going Going Gone - Neal McCoy
Head Carolina, Tails California - Jo Dee Messina
Heart of Rock & Roll - Huey Lewis & the News
American Woman - The Guess Who
Rockin' Me - Steve Miller Band
Old Time Rock & Roll - Bob Seger
Youngest daughter Mookie is home for Christmas break, and of course she brought back most everything she owns. I went out to help haul her crap from the car to the house and slipped on the ice. There are two knots on my right shin from where that leg slammed into the car tire, my leg is throbbing and I think it's going to turn a nice Christmassy blue and greenish as it bruises.
Ho.
The subject line said:
Excercise a little patience and read through my letter
I hate exercise, especially when the "delete" button is right there. Buh-bye Spammer.
The headline reads "Bush fails to allay Democrats' doubts about US Iraq policy", and in the story we hear about (surprise, surprise) Pelosi, Kerry, Kennedy and the usual gang of idiots bitching and moaning about nothing that makes actual sense.
I think I'm looking forward to the end of President Bush's term in office, just because it'll be interesting to see what happens to this cult of hatred that the Democratic party has embraced once their only apparent reason for being is gone.
Suggested alternate headline: "President's Speech Fails to Stimulate Testicular Growth in Sheep"
Kidnappings have started up again in Iraq. I sincerely hope that the current hostages being held are all freed safe and sound, to return home to their loved ones.
In a statement, Christian Peacemaker Teams said it strongly opposed the U.S. invasion of Iraq and blamed the kidnapping on coalition forces."We are angry because what has happened to our teammates is the result of the actions of the U.S. and U.K. government due to the illegal attack on Iraq and the continuing occupation and oppression of its people," the group said.
Now as for the organization itself, fuck 'em. Anyone that damned delusional shouldn't be sending members into a war zone, and since they're "peaceful", who gives a rats ass if they're angry.
Words can trump guns, but only if both sides want to talk.
Which kind of brings up my next point. These folks claim that they're not "evangelical Christians". Ok, fair enough. But what they claim isn't the point, it's what the bad guys believe that counts. At least that's what we're told by these anti-war groups. Because, you know, they hate us because we don't understand them well enough.
I understand the terrorists enough to know that they don't want Christians in the war zone. They don't want anyone in Iraq who isn't on their side, and being anti-war or anti-US doesn't mean you're on their side, it doesn't even make you their friend. It just makes you a potential target.
Rachael got a new cell phone and everyone agrees that the default ring is really obnoxious. I was amazed to find out that they charge $2.50 for each new ringtone you download for the phone. What a racket.
Now imagine if every time you got a phone call, your phone started reading the Miranda rights.
You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...
Oh yeah, I'd pay for that. Anyone know how to create your own ringtones?
Of course, Google is your friend.
Translation: "#!~*$*&#@!%~*#@#!!!!!!!"
I'd written over 5,000 words for my NaNoWriMo story since Wednesday night, yet thanks to my own stupidity and an odd quirk in Windows XP's "Save to disk/Open With" feature, none of it was actually ever permanently saved, even though I hit the save button rather frequently.
I'm rather annoyed right now.
In Heinlein's Starship Troopers, the main character mentions that while on a long march, the troops "rest" by changing the pace from march to double-time and so on.
Reality is that stuff that keeps getting in the way when you're busy being a social butterfly online.
In high school, I had a gym teacher who used to say the same thing.
I'm going to try it for awhile here on Rocket Jones, even though personal experience already tells me that they were both full of crap.
Truth is, I've been trying to keep up with too many plates on too many sticks lately, and I'm tired.
As daughter Mookie noted, I've posted nearly every day for two and a half years.
Weary.
Examining my priorities, I find that there are some adjustments to be made. I've got family to take care of, and school to attend to, and rockets to build, and more going on that never gets mentioned here. I've let some important things slip that never should have, and projects that I'm going to try and salvage before it's too late.
I'm not going away, but the focus here at Rocket Jones will be shifting for a time. I'll be trying that "changing pace" thing that I mentioned above, even though I'm pretty sure that my gym coach was lying to me.
Keep checking back, because I plan to keep posting, but there will be more emphasis on things like the Star Cards series and cult flick and B-movie reviews and a couple of new features that I've been working on.
I will be posting my NaNoWriMo work when it's done. I've got, what, seven days to go? I'm a little better than halfway to the goal of 50,000 words. I'm planning to put a big dent into the remainder this holiday weekend.
Interestingly enough, I was in the middle of writing this post when I discovered that I'd gotten a trackback from Michelle Malkin for the Carnival of the Recipes. So that's one from Instapundit (way back when) and now this. If that isn't encouragement to keep plugging away, I don't know what is.
At some point, I will decide that my batteries are sufficiently recharged and I'll return to my regular Rocket Jonesian blogging, but for now I need a break.
My gym coach also tried to tell me that running was fun. Lying bastard.
From an email sent to me by a coworker:
For those of you who are not aware, North Dakota, southwestern Montana, and parts of Colorado got hit with their first blizzard of the season a couple of weeks ago. This text is from the county emergency manager out in the western part of North Dakota state after the storm.WEATHER BULLETIN
Up here in the Northern Plains we just recovered from a Historic event --- may I even say a "Weather Event" of "Biblical Proportions" --- with a historic blizzard of up to 24" inches of snow and winds to 50 MPH that broke trees in half, stranded hundreds of motorists in lethal snow banks, closed all roads, isolated scores of communities and cut power to 10's of thousands.
- George Bush did not come…
- FEMA staged nothing…
- No one howled for the government…
- No one even uttered an expletive on TV…
- Nobody demanded $2,000 debit cards…
- No one asked for a FEMA Trailer House…
- No news anchors moved in…
- We just melted snow for water, sent out caravans to pluck people out of
snow engulfed cars, fired up wood stoves, broke out coal oil lanterns or
Aladdin lamps and put on an extra layer of clothes…Even though a Category "5" blizzard of this scale has never fallen this early... we know it can happen and how to deal with it ourselves.
Everybody is fine.
Snopes has more background. It's based on some truth, and after having lived through five North Dakota winters (and many many whiteout blizzards), this strikes me as pretty much the NoDak attitude I remember.
First: Robyn and Rachael, if you call, call Mom's cell phone between 12:45 and 1:15 and I'll give you details. Any other time, you'll just get voice mail.
Gist: My wife Liz was taken to the hospital for severe abdominal pain yesterday morning (luckily, she works next door in a medical practice). When things weren't moving quickly enough, then shuffled her to the ER and called me.
Lots of tests and scans and rays later, they've ruled out some things and have plenty of supporting data for their primary diagnosis, but no solid confirmation. It was looking likely that she'd be having surgery last night, but as test after test came back that option was eliminated. They sent us home last night around 1am and I made a followup appointment with her doctor for this morning.
If this turns out to be what Liz and I both thought it was from the beginning, then she's going to be very tender and in pain for a few days. Bottom line is, she had a rough yesterday, but it looks like everything is going to be ok.
Good thoughts and prayers never hurt. Thanks.
I read somewhere once that you should never end a letter on a downer, so I'll mention now that I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance.
Update: Liz has had eight abdominal surgeries over the last twenty years, which tends to build up a lot of scar tissue. The doctor is assuming (and this is what we first suspected) that Liz ripped loose a big chunk of the adhesions. That means that it's time for another laboroscopy (might not be spelled right), which is where they go in through her belly button with a fiber optic camera and a laser and just cut away all the spidery webby scarring that's built up inside. She sees a surgeon Monday to set it up. In the meantime, as long as she doesn't overdo she'll feel a bit better every day.
Thanks for the good thoughts and kind words, everyone.
It snuck up on me, but I'm the host of the next Carnival of the Recipes. So please send in your recipes to recipe -dot- carnival -at- gmail -dot- com so I have something to work with.
I mean, I didn't post the one that said I was Coconut Cream Yogurt or anything. This one I found at annika's.
(moved to the extended entry)
All-Around Smart You are all-around smart. Essentially, that means that you are a good combination of your own knowledge and experience, along with having learned through instruction - and you are equally as good with theoretical things as you are with real-world, applied things. You have a well-rounded brain. 0% applied intelligence 20% natural intelligence | ||||
| ||||
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com |
Yay Hats! (Trust me, that's all-around smart)
Munuviana (our group of Mu.Nu blogs for those who didn't know) is the largest Movable Type installation in the world.
We just moved over to a pair of new servers to help handle the workload. Pixy rocks.
I don't know about the "day late" part, but lately I seem to be "a dollar short" quite often.
Does that make me a half-wit?
Ever notice that these televangelists all seem to live forever? I'm betting that God doesn't really want 'em around either.
What a jackass.
As of this morning, I am still unable to squirt blood out of my eyes.
Updates as they become available.
After a tiebreaker question too!
 | You scored as William Wallace. The great Scottish warrior William Wallace led his people against their English oppressors in a campaign that won independence for Scotland and immortalized him in the hearts of his countrymen. With his warrior's heart, tactician's mind, and poet's soul, Wallace was a brilliant leader. He just wanted to live a simple life on his farm, but he gave it up to help his country in its time of need.
Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com |
Seen over at the Llamabutchers.
In the Virginia Governors race, did the child-molesting heroin addict win? Or was it the devil-worshipping serial killer?
When there's that much mud being slung, I get disgusted with both parties. I voted for Potts, the independent from FunWinchester.
I was heading home from work and just pulling into the local school to vote, when this radio commercial came on:
Young Lady: Dad, do you love me?Dad: You know I do.
YL: Would you do anything for me?
Dad: You know I would.
YL: Would you run into a burning building for me?
Dad: Of course. *chuckles* Do you want to borrow the car?
YL: No Dad, I want you to get a colonoscopy.
I almost hit the car next to me as I parked, I was laughing so hard. Yepper, Dad, nothing says "I love you" like taking one up the ol' exhaust pipe.
Do it for the children.
The Left won't begin to take domestic terrorism seriously until Starbucks' start blowing up.
I just deleted a spam email from "Glamour Shots" for holiday family portraits. Isn't that the company that specializes in sexy pinup style photography?
I feel like I need to go scrub my monitor now.
I'm doing that National Novel Writing Month insanity.
I haven't decided if I'm going to post chapters as I finish them or not.
Rachael is insisting that my story include zombies. I've been known to write erotica (hey, Penthouse counts dammit!). An interesting fusion idea occurs, but the guys over at the Ministry are already debating related details, so I think (probably) not.
Other folks who are crazy too:
Buckethead
JohnL
Dawn
Barb
Pratt
Brandon
More ink than sense, as my Dad would say.
I'm really swamped right now between work and school and home life, so posting may be light for a few days. In the meantime, here's a picture for you:
Leave a caption in the comments and who knows, maybe I'll award a prize or something to the best.
Looking at the counters, I see that Rocket Jones went over 300,000 page visits last night. Thanks to everyone, even you bots.
That one up there kinda sucks, don't it?
Update: Not that one. That one's cool. I'm talking about the ick one from before.
DirecTV has this spot that's been on heavy rotation during football games that shows this cute 4 year old kid coming in to see his dad.
"Dad, can you read me a story?"
The kid notices the TV and looking crestfallen, says, "Oh, football."
And dad, playing the hero, tells his tot that "I can freeze time" with a snap of his finger and a clandestine touch of the remote.
Oh puh-leeze.
Today's four year olds know what the freakin' freeze control is. Hell, by that age they've already hacked the passworded parental control block.
Better check up on older sister, dad. The kid is distracting you for a reason. "Read me a story?" Ground the little scamster and go find the mastermind. Catch 'em red handed, administer punishments.
Then watch your football game uninterupted. As it should be.
A friend is looking for a "Thomas Jefferson" style font, where the "s" is written almost like an uncrossed small letter "f" (sample here). This style was used for early printed versions of the Declaration of Independence.
I've found a font designed based on Jefferson's handwriting, but it has the normal "s" and it's not what he wants.
If you can point me to the right place, font fanatics, I'd be most obliged.
Kids, if you see one of these on the front porch:
Just head right on by to the next house, because you can pretty much count on their candy already being gone.
I'd pass on the brownies too, if they offer.
Somehow, Rocket Jones is number 1 on Google for "how to dress up as buckethead".
I know this because someone got here by doing just that search. Either a lost lamb or a really, really stupid bot.
Do you think Captain Kirk was overcompensating all that time?
My last comment on the subject, I promise.
George Takei, best known as Mr. Sulu of the original Star Trek, has transported out of the closet.
It's kind of a shame that this is still considered news.
This line, from a story about Israeli troops arresting a senior leader of Islamic Jihad:
[Hamas] has largely scaled back its attacks since the truce declaration.
So I guess the word truce now means "we won't murder as many of you as before."
My drop light died last night. I've had that thing for somewhere around 30 years, it was one of the old fashioned light bulb types. I've got the portable halogen setups as well, but sometimes the old drop light was exactly what was needed. Now I've got to replace it, which means a trip to the hardware store. Yay!
Congrats on winning the World Series. I didn't have a dog in this hunt, because I don't particularly follow either Chicago or Houston. If the Astros would've won, I'd have been happy for them as well.
But the good Chicago team won. You know, the non-loser ones.
WWII, as an online interactive game:
deGaulle: eisenhower ur worthless come help me quick
Eisenhower: i cant do **** til rosevelt gives me an army
paTTon: yah hurry the fock up
Churchill: d00d im gettin pounded
deGaulle: this is fockin weak u guys suck
*deGaulle has left the game.*
And it just gets better from there.
Follow the links over at The Ministry of Minor Perfidy and read the whole thing. Warning though, your co-workers will be looking in to see why you're making those strangled choking noises at your desk.
My wife and I, discussing an idiot she had to deal with at her workplace:
Me: Welcome to Stupidit-- Welcome to Stupidititt-- Welcome to Stupidville.Wife: And you're their spokesman.
Sometimes, I'm their king.
I stayed up until midnight last night, happily hacking away at this strange new universe called PHP. This morning, my body followed it's normal weekday routine and woke me up at 4am. Knowing I had more homework to catch up with, I jumped right into functions, arrays, objects, string manipulation and all that other geeky wonderfulness. It's big fun, peoples, and if you don't think so, then odds are good that your job will never be outsourced to India.
I've almost completely switched over to the new PC and no longer have Yahoo Messenger. Now I'm using something called GAIM that the kids installed for me (I needed it for an online job interview). If you have a compatible IM service, give me a holler at "RocketTed".
Update: Ok, thanks to my daughter for clearing a few things up in the comments. GAIM is a free "universal" IM utility that is AOL messenger and Yahoo compatible, as well as a few others. I've got a Yahoo account, but for some reason the new PC will not let me open it. I'll work on that as I get the chance.
This evening, after countless hours of work, I have managed to install Apache, PHP and MySQL onto my PC. More importantly, I've convinced them to get along (Apache had decided to roll over and play dead for a while), so that I can now do my homework (PHP class) at home. There's a reason we mainframe programmers have a systems shop to handle crap like this.
I'm having a magical weekend.
There's always been a degree of "if it bleeds it leads" thinking in the media, and the local versions are no exception. Mostly though, I tended towards thinking that the more outrageous stupidity was due to lesser talents being at the local level. After seeing a piece on last night's broadcast, I'm no longer sure.
A wanted member of the gang MS13 was apprehended in the area, apparently a very bad hombre. It was a peaceful arrest, probably due to the extreme amount of firepower the police deployed to get this guy.
Afterwards, the breathless reporter interviewed other residents of the apartment complex where the guy was arrested. Most notable was the sloppy and amatuerish editing, all designed to make it sound like Jack the Ripper himself had been lurking in their midst. But if you listened to what people were actually saying, you noticed that the guy was quiet, kept to himself, wasn't bothering anyone. In short, he was laying low. The reporter was falling all over herself to find someone, anyone, who would claim that he was terrorizing the neighborhood.
The capper was when they showed the door of the apartment where the guy was apprehended.
Reporter's voice-over: This is the apartment where the arrest was made, number 76. Note that 7+6=13, and he belonged to the gang MS13!
No word on whether the residents of apartments 13, 49, 58, 67, 85, or 94 were taken into custody as well
So the NBA implements a dress code in an effort to cut down on the hiphop gangbanger look. Whatever. I'm sorry, you pay these guys millions a year to play a game, and then expect them to not be flamboyant? Your entire marketing strategy is based on individual stars.
And then Marcus Camby (who, incidentally, has a guaranteed multi-year contract paying him around $10 million per), claims that players should receive a clothing stipend to be able to afford the new clothes.
Proof positive that you don't have to be smart to play in the NBA, just tall.
According to Pixy, MuNu is now considerably larger en toto than Instapundit.
If I were a woman, I would now ask if this blog made me look fat.
Just a few random thoughts...
Yesterday at work I got a new 17" flatscreen LCD monitor, just because I asked for one. I wish it worked that way at home, but then I suppose y'all wouldn't be helping to pay for it.
Canadian visitors can stop snickering now. I figure the Aussies are still mad at me because of yesterday's eHarmony joke.
When making a meat sandwich, try a crank or two of fresh cracked pepper on it. It makes a world of difference.
I'm having a hard time being concerned about bird flu. If it does avalanche into an epidemic, well, that's also called "thinning the herd". And for those who're worried that one group will be more affected than another, well (again), that's the way Mother Nature works.
It's easy to type the above because I'm in a low-risk group.
I'm less than impressed with hockey coverage on the Outdoor Life Network. The other night the New York Rangers played the Montreal Canadiens, a classic matchup. Instead, we got reruns of the 2004 BBQ Championship Tour or some such nonsense.
Congratulations, by the way, to the ladies of Squeal of Approval for their win in the finals. Those ribs looked gooooooood.
Now I want a banana.
At the recent blogmeet, the Maximum Leader told me more than once, "More Wernher Von Braun!" He also hinted at some Von Braun stories that I'm going to beat out of him if plying with beer doesn't work insist he tell next time.
But you know me, I'm always happy to oblige...
In my own way, of course.
Worth passing along:
Ever wonder what the difference between prison and work is?Just in case you ever get the two mixed up, this should make things a bit clearer.
IN PRISON...you spend the majority of your time in an 8X10 cell.
AT WORK...you spend the majority of your time in a 6X8 cubicle.IN PRISON...you get three meals a day.
AT WORK...you only get a break for one meal and you pay for it.IN PRISON...you get time off for good behavior.
AT WORK...you get more work for good behavior.IN PRISON...the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you.
AT WORK...you must carry around a security card and open all the doors for yourself.IN PRISON...you can watch TV and play games.
AT WORK...you get fired for watching TV and playing games.IN PRISON...you get your own toilet.
AT WORK...you have to share with some idiot who pees on the seat.IN PRISON...they allow your family and friends to visit.
AT WORK...you can't even speak to your family.IN PRISON...the taxpayers pay all expenses with no work required.
AT WORK...you get to pay all the expenses to go to work and then they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.IN PRISON...you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out.
AT WORK...you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.IN PRISON...you must deal with sadistic wardens.
AT WORK...they are called managers.Have a Great Day at WORK!!
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
I was feeling so lousy on Friday that I didn't mention that my review copy of MaddenNFL 2006 arrived.
Neener neener.
Just saw the first-ever shootout in Washington Capitals history, and they beat the Tampa Bay Lightning 3-2.
Fantasy football, and two, repeat TWO of my starting wide receivers didn't play today. Both were game-time decisions, so thanks guys, for giving me a little warning. I'm glad the Steelers lost (Hines Ward), and I wish the Bengals had too (T.J. Houshmandzadeh).
Serves (half of) you right, dammit.
Update: Somehow I'm hanging in there. Now I need Edgerrin James to have a great Monday Night and the rest of the Colts to fall off the face of the planet, and I might just pull this one out.
There was a time when the National Park Service would provide an estimate of the crowd size for events held on the mall in Washington DC. After being criticized for not sufficiently inflating the estimates to soothe the egos of various organizers, the parks people did an intelligent and reasonable thing. They declined to provide crowd estimates any more.
That made everyone happy. The National Park Service no longer had to deploy people to "count" the crowds, and they deftly sidestepped various complaints ranging from bad mathematical skills to racism.
The organizers of various events were happy too, because now their "official" numbers were, in fact, official.
Yesterday was a classic example. After hearing reports throughout the day about "thousands massing at the mall" or "a throng numbering in the thousands", the Nation of Islam released their official crowd count at 1.8 million people.
I'm happy, because now I know for sure that every estimate I hear from these events is complete and utter bullshit.
Earlier this week we had the headline:
Avian Flu Found in Turkey
Today we see:
Thousands Attend Millions More March
But of course, this is deliberate:
Rice Fails To Gain Russian Support Over Iran
When the more accurate statement would be:
Russians refuse to change mind despite Rice efforts. But hey, she failed, you know?
1. There are about 1/2 ton of termites living for each human being on the planet.
2. Termites fart.
3. Farting releases methane.
4. Methane is a greenhouse gas.
5. Therefore, killing termites can stop global warming.
(Chemistry in Context: Applying Chemistry to Society, 4th edition, page 125)
Hand me that aerosol can of bug spray, would you?
You do realize that there's a salty side and a not-salty side to a Pringles, don't you?
At my old worksite, there was the nog. At the current one, the fridge is full of whipped cream and beer.
Psychology paper? Coffee table book? Either way, there's an opportunity here.
I heard on a radio news report this morning (and if it's on the radio then it must be true, right?), that according to an AOL (*snicker*) user survey, half of all bloggers list "therapy" as the reason they blog.
Or in my case, evidence of the need for.
I am still employed. To my mind, it was touch and go there for a bit.
See, last week I made an incredibly silly mistake which happened at precisely the wrong moment, resulting in spectacularly bad results all out of proportion to the size of the original mistake.
It took the entire team most of a day to put us back on track, and the fact that it's the beginning of a new fiscal year only added to the festivities. There was no finger pointing or gnashing of teeth, just professionals digging in and making things right.
Our boss was on vacation last week. I stressed big-time all weekend about this morning, and whether I would still have a job. I got the expected (and deserved) ass chewing, and then we moved on.
But the back of my neck is still cringy, and I've become rather maniacal about double-checking and triple-checking things. A little late, but better than never.
Yesterday, Dawn surprised me by saying that this print was me.
I was so surprised that when she asked me what I saw in it, I babbled some incoherent nonsense. She was right though, because the image resonated and stayed with me. So here's an attempt to answer your question.
I see serenity and solitude. The empty basket tells me that the day is ending, the toil of the day is over, and there is time for reflection. The mountain in the distance is unchanging, and even when the moods of the volcano change, underneath is permanence.
It occurs to me that the rippling path underneath the tree may be water, but my first impression was that it was a road, perhaps signifying one's life, with the ups and downs that happen to everyone. I also think it significant that the difficulty of navigating the road is trivial compared to the mass of the mountain beyond, or even to the lesser permanence of the tree itself, which live far longer than any single person.
I suck at this introspection stuff.
Used to be, there were a lucky few who got to write blurbs for trashy paperbacks:
No man could satisfy her. Four men tried to tame this wildcat who knew no end to the daisy-chain game of sin savagery... until she met a woman as explosive as herself. Together they stormed into an arena of perverted pleasures that knew no parallel except in hell. -- I Want You, by Lester Lake
Nowadays, I think they hang out in AOL chat.
Look at this picture (reasonably safe for work). The ladies pictured are topless, but the body paint is good enough to hide that fact except under close and careful examination.
Disregarding everything except the spirit of fun and adventure, could you do that?
He's a good interview:
"Just put down 'bleep.' It's OK. Lots of things I say in the paper have bleeps in them." -- Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen
He's a good interview, with a little judicious editing.
I've been enjoying the hyperventilation going on among some conservatives over President Bush's nominee for the high court. Mostly because I remember the chorus of "he's the President so he should get to choose anyone he wants to join the Supreme Court."
Guess what? He did.
That ol' "be careful what you wish for" bites y'all in ass again.
So New Orleans Mayor Nagin has appointed a committee to oversee reconstruction. This is a different committee than the one appointed by the city council to oversee reconstruction. And then, not to be outdone, Governor Blanco has appointer her very own committee to oversee reconstruction.
More hands muddying the money trail, more people to blame when questions arise. These folks are old pros at the grand con game called corrupt government.
I'm reminded of the movie Operation Petticoat. Cary Grant was the skipper of a submarine, and Tony Curtis was his "supply" officer who specialized in creative larceny to get things done. During an air raid, the supply troops headed out, saying "In confusion, there is profit."
True words.
I was telling a coworker about a couple of plants I've got going on this year in our front yard and told her I'd take pictures.
(in the extended entry)
This is nine New Guniea Impatiens that I planted in a bed about 15 feet long. You can't go wrong with impatiens, as long you keep them watered. They'll droop and wilt badly when they get thirsty, but a good soaking will perk them right back up, and they'll stay covered with blooms like this right until first frost.
This is a flowering vine called Mandevilla that I potted and trained to climb through the lattice. Our HOA was on our case about the trash can being visible, so this is how I solved that problem (you can barely see the can behind). The blooms are four or five inches across, and it's flowered all summer. The mandavilla is tropical, so in all likelyhood it won't survive the winter here, but I'm going to trim it back before first frost and set it down into the window well where the dryer vent exhausts. Maybe it'll be enough, we'll find out.
In the extended entry (warning - indelicate language)
I only eat ketchup on two things: tater tots and grilled cheese sandwiches.
I was watching the Weather Channel coverage of Hurricane Rita, and they've got a reporter located in Sulphur, Louisiana. He was saying that the eye would pass right over or just to the west of them, and another reporter mentioned that the guy was "four for four" this season.
Four hurricanes, four assignments, four times he's been right near where the eye comes ashore.
If Jeff Morrow ever visits your town, get the hell out.
And thank goodness I'm not! Otherwise, folks would be bugging me to explain the goofy gas prices around here.
This morning, my wife called me on her way to work to let me know that a certain gas station in our area was priced at $2.54 a gallon. Across the street is another station that we occasionally use, priced at $2.59. Anticipating a rise in prices, I gassed up the truck at the cheaper place.
This afternoon my wife noticed that the first place had raised prices by a penny, to $2.55 a gallon. Meanwhile, all the way across the street, the other place jumped prices by twenty cents.
I haven't a clue. Maybe their distributor is sticking it to them and they're just passing along the price increase. I can believe that because their prices are insanely volatile compared to most brands in the area, and they're not always more expensive than everywhere else. But if they're trying to take advantage, they're the dumbest businessmen on the planet, because people remember stuff like that, and I'll bet that even when prices stabilize again their business will be down.
We tend to have cheap gas in this area compared to most. What's a gallon going for in your burg?
Had a minor dental emergency a couple of days ago that required a trip to see the dentist. I'm pleased to announce (as if anyone cares) that *my* dentist is back from maternity leave and I'm very very happy about that.
So anyways, things went good yesterday and I have a quick followup scheduled for this morning, after which I'll go in to work late and probably stay busy there until this evening (end of the fiscal year coming up fast, don't'cha know). I'll see y'all tomorrow, most likely.
If you see a guy with only half his face working, and a big string of bloody drool hanging off his chin, say hi. It ain't me, but he's probably having a bad day and could use a kind word.
Supervisor: What happened at the meeting?
Me: Bullshit.
Supervisor: No, really, I need more than that. Didn't you take notes?
Me (handing over a page and a half of meeting notes): Read for yourself.
Supervisor (reading carefully): What bullshit.
Me: Echo Echo.
*I made this up. Think of it as a composite of the last 100 meetings I've been to.
In today's society we hear often about inclusion, so with that in mind, I'd like everyone to join me in song:
Kum-bah-yArrrr, me mateys! Kum-bah-yArrrrr!
Kum-bah-yArrrr, me mateys! Kum-bah-yArrrrr!
Kum-bah-yArrrr, me mateys! Kum-bah-yArrrrr!
Shiver me timbers, Kum-bah-yArrrrr!Keel-haul the sinners, mates! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
Keel-haul the sinners, mates! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
Keel-haul the sinners, mates! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
Shiver me timbers, Kum-bah-yArrrrr!There the beastie be! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
There the beastie be! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
There the beastie be! Kum-bah-yArrrr!
Shiver me timbers, Kum-bah-yArrrrr!
I'm sure a fine crew such as yourselves can add a verse to the tune, no?
Hey, sometime last night Rocket Jones got its 250,000th visitor!!!
Kind of amazing, considering posts like the one above, eh?
Ignore the brilliant comedy for the moment and admit it, this brash and brassy redhead had some genuinely fine gams.
(click for super vitameatavegemin size)
September 19th is Talk Like A Pirate Day! Arrrr, ye scurvy dogs.
I be thinking of ordering one of these for meself.
Yo ho! Yo ho! A pirates life for me...
I'm sorry that it now costs you $180.00 every time you need to fill your gas tank, but that's the consequence of your decision to buy that oversized off-road vehicle for your daily commute on the interstate.
Just like your attempt to improve your gas milage by accellerating from zero to sixty in 6.3 weeks has a consequence - the rest of us think you're an asshole.
And get the hell out of the fast lane if you won't do at least the speed limit. Owning that monster makes you special all right, but 'special' has taken on a whole new meaning.
From the Ottawa Citizen (via Cream of the Crock):
That is not to say government has not failed. (Celebrities also underperformed, and Sean Penn should probably resign.)
Lots of good stuff to read at the Crock.
According to Vincent Creel, spokesman for Biloxi, Mississippi Mayor A.J. Holloway:
"A whole new market, people who had been looking at Florida to retire, were going to come here to escape the hurricanes."
Katrina is a short-term setback. They'll be fine in the long run.
...and he's tall and skinny as a rail, and he has this enormous Yosemite Sam moustache. It looked like someone had duct taped a pekinese to one end of a popsicle stick.
TV analyst Randy Cross said this about Denver quarterback Jake Plummer:
"Plummer is the Billy Graham of the NFL. He can make 70,000 people say 'Jesus' in unison."
LMAO
I filled up yesterday after work and paid $2.99 a gallon.
This morning as I passed the gas stations on the way to the rocket launch, the prices were all $2.89 a gallon. Dang.
I just thought of the perfect line to use next time Sears calls me:
The only reason I'd ever set foot in a Sears again is if my house is underwater and I need someplace to loot.
I'd probably preface that with a "Ma'am", 'cause I'm a gentleman like that.
Rachael got her work/study assignment. She's working for the Drama Department, mostly at the campus theater.
That's like asking a mermaid to be a lifeguard.
Thanks to everyone who left birthday wishes in the comments and email yesterday. Y'all are the best!
On Wednesday, I got a very unexpected birthday present from some co-workers who broke all records in accomplishing a regularly scheduled task. Once they finish, then I have several hours worth of work that I have to do with their results. Usually I have to do that on Thursday, but because they were so quick this time I was able to get it all done Wednesday afternoon and take my birthday off. They'll get a big thanks from me, and they didn't even know.
Rachael got me The Mummy: The Legacy Collection. Tres cool. Thanks sweetie!!!! You may remember that last year for my birthday she got me the rereleased Bakshi animation Wizards, and for Father's Day she bought me a hybrid rocket motor system, so I recommend that y'all get on her gift-giving list, because she's good at it.
I've been on a movie kick lately, so Liz took me out for a Mexican dinner (my favorite) and then turned me loose in Suncoast Video. I picked up Clash of the Titans, Blonde in Bondage (1950's Swedish exploitation flick), and a collection of four low-budget horror movies that had two things to recommend them; I haven't seen any of them, and they all contain nudity (look for upcoming reviews). Altogether I've probably bought two dozen B-movies in the last couple of weeks, so I'll have plenty to watch on those cold winter nights.
Thanks again folks, you made the day special.
Rachael has joined several clubs at her college. Among them are the Pagan Club and the Young Republicans. That oughtta cause a few raised eyebrows.
Governator to veto Gay Marraige Bill in California. His reasoning is that five years ago Proposition 22 was on the ballot, prohibiting the recognition of same-sex marraige in California, and was passed by a wide margin.
In other words, the majority of Californian's don't want it, and he, unlike the Legislature, remembers that he works for the people.
In related news, the Massachusetts state legislature ingnored repeated requests to put the matter of gay marriage up for a vote, and eventually the State Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage couldn't be denied. This made gay marriage supporters very happy. This made anti-gay marriage folks very unhappy.
So now the anti- foks are mobilizing and the state legislature is looking into putting it up for a vote. Guess what? The anti- folks far outnumber the pro-, so if it goes to the polls, it's likely that the law will change, making the court decision moot.
Democracy can be a bitch. But there are ways to make your dream happen.
This isn't one of them. Publishing a list of everyone who signs the petition against gay marriage? Cheap, stupid, and it will, in the end, have exactly the opposite effect that they hope for.
I've said this for a long time (Dawn probably remembers some debates I had in her comments way back), the only way for gays to win approval for marriage is by convincing voters that it's a good and decent thing to do. Using the courts to win the right accomplishes nothing permanent, and doing an end-around the voters by legislation isn't the answer either.
Convince enough average voters that Gay Marriage isn't doomsday and you'll get it. But all of the tantrums and name-calling and attempted intimidation isn't going to change a single mind, and you'll just be impressing some people who are already on your side. You'll also be turning off some people who are on your side.
People like me.
The Democrats have been trying to overcome the perception that they are soft on national security and would be able to handle a major crisis. By her actions, Louisiana Governor Blanco has managed, in a little more than a week, to firmly cement that perception into reality in the minds of many.
September Blogger Birthdays
LeeAnn - yesterday (I'm sorry, I didn't look this stuff up until this morning)
Boudicca - 8th (all the *really* cool kids have birthdays on the 8th)
Me - 8th (thanks to Cindy for thinking of me!)
Blue - 9th (podcaster extraordinaire, he's got a blog now but I lost the link)
Jennifer - 14th (she's a student, buy her Ramen)
Pixy Misa - 19th 20th (must be that upside down calendar they use in Australia)
Victor - 27th 28th (that's what I get for trying to do two year old calendar math in my head)
Happy Happy, Everyone!
I went to the Potomac Nationals website this morning to check their schedule, thinking we'd get one last blogger get-together in before the season ends. Alas, the season ended with three games at home over the holiday weekend.
So now I'm open to suggestions. I welcome any ideas on when and if y'all would like to meet up again. I sent out invites for a poker night and got very little response. How about a picnic in October? Hockey game?
One interesting possibility is the fall BattlePark rocket launch in Culpeper, Virginia. It's scheduled for the first weekend of November (5th and 6th), and if anyone is interested Doug Pratt introduced me to an amazing rib joint in that area for food afterwards.
Got lots done, including some work on the movie review, but you'll have to be patient for another day or so.
I was reading an astrological profile for people born under the sign of Virgo and it was interesting enough, right up until the very last sentence.
Famous Virgos
Stephen King, Charlie Sheen, Mother Teresa, Sophia Loren, and Mickey Mouse
Mickey Mouse?
Liz hit a sale on DVD's and picked up a few that we had on VHS. This evening while walking through another store I found a great deal on Ghostbusters I & II in a set. When we got home, Liz realized that she'd picked up Gung Ho, Guarding Tess and Grease.
Today was brought to you by the letter "G".
Good Grief.
A woman has sued King county in Washington state.
In a lawsuit filed 10 days ago in Pierce County Superior Court, Robinette Amaker of North Carolina claimed that the brain of her deceased brother, Bradley Gierlich, was taken from his body in 1998 at the King County Medical Examiner's office.
The only reason I can see this becoming an issue now after seven years is that maybe he's up for reelection.
Gulfport, Mississippi (in the extended entry).
Please visit the California Yankee, Michele, Phin, or many other sites online for ways you can help.
Thanks.
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I believe that you'll be able to get a very good deal on a used SUV over the next few months.
It reminds me of one springtime a few years ago. The winter had been terrible (1999?), and everyone ran out and bought 4-wheel drive vehicles. The car lots were full of used sports cars, and the dealers couldn't even give 'em away.
It just occurred to me that we are two-thirds of the way through 2005. I don't know about you, but I'd be perfectly happy if the rest of this year were boring and uneventful.
My niece called. Her and the kids are safe alive. They're still in the vicinity of what's left of Gulfport, Mississippi.
The entire quote:
"Let me tell you something, folks. I've been out there. It's complete devastation," Gulfport Fire Chief Pat Sullivan said Monday. He estimated that 75 percent of buildings in Gulfport have major roof damage, "if they have a roof left at all."
Gulfport experienced a storm surge of more than 20 feet. Think about that for a second. Stand up, and if you're six feet tall, the water level pushed inland was more than three times your height.
We've had no word about my neice in Gulfport, who refused to evacuate despite living within blocks of the beach. At this point, I could care less about her, but I'm worried sick about her small children.
"The hurricane was scary," Scott Radish told The Times-Picayune. "All the tree branches fell, but the building stood. I thought I was doing good. Then I noticed my Jeep was under water."
"I've never encountered anything like it in my life. It just kept rising and rising and rising," said Bryan Vernon, who spent three hours on his roof, screaming over howling winds for someone to save him and his fiancee.
Idiots like these shouldn't be spared natural selection. Call me hardhearted, but I'd leave 'em right where they are, especially if rescuing their stupid asses meant someone else has to risk their lives.
Across a street that had turned into a river bobbing with garbage cans, trash and old tires, a woman leaned from the second-story window of a brick home and pleaded to be rescued."There are three kids in here," the woman said. "Can you help us?"
You had the chance to save your children, and blew it. I hope they learn from this experience, and I hope they never forget that you're a selfish nitwit who endangered their lives for no good reason.
Worried sick and pissed off, that's me.
Update: Just got word that their house is gone. Completely. No news about my niece and the kids.
Or whatever you do to send good juju down to the folks in New Orleans and vicinity. I've got relatives close to the water in Gulfport who're determined to ride this one out. Stupid? I guess we'll know in a few days, eh?
(update) Wizbang! has the text of the official National Weather Service Warning. Here's a little bit:
POWER OUTAGES WILL LAST FOR WEEKS...AS MOST POWER POLES WILL BE DOWN AND TRANSFORMERS DESTROYED. WATER SHORTAGES WILL MAKE HUMAN SUFFERING INCREDIBLE BY MODERN STANDARDS.THE VAST MAJORITY OF NATIVE TREES WILL BE SNAPPED OR UPROOTED. ONLY THE HEARTIEST WILL REMAIN STANDING...BUT BE TOTALLY DEFOLIATED. FEW CROPS WILL REMAIN. LIVESTOCK LEFT EXPOSED TO THE WINDS WILL BE KILLED.
The guys at Wizbang! also have a look at what the folks sheltering at the Superdome might go through. Pray for them too, they're going to need it.
You leap out of bed, scoop up the dog, race downstairs, throw open the front door, toss the dog outside, and watch him barf up all over the porch. Which you then proceed to clean by hosing it off.
All before properly waking up.
Seen over at Naked Villainy.
| Jimmy Stewart You scored 19% Tough, 19% Roguish, 33% Friendly, and 28% Charming! |
You are the fun and friendly boy next door, the classic nice guy who still manages to get the girl most of the time. You're every nice girl's dreamboat, open and kind, nutty and charming, even a little mischievous at times, but always a real stand up guy. You're dependable and forthright, and women are drawn to your reliability, even as they're dazzled by your sense of adventure and fun. You try to be tough when you need to be, and will gladly stand up for any damsel in distress, but you'd rather catch a girl with a little bit of flair. Your leading ladies include Jean Arthur and Donna Reed, those sweet girl-next-door types.
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My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Classic Leading Man Test written by gidgetgoes on Ok Cupid |
I'm not displeased.
Remember a while back I mentioned that I'd been offered a review copy of an independent horror flick?
It showed up in my mailbox yesterday.
Woot!
According to Mookie, the Bible is the most popular fanfic in history.
Just got home from work. The girls are off to their respective schools, and Liz isn't back yet from helping Rachael to settle in. It's just me and the dogs and a house that seems a little more empty than usual... until I get to the basement and see the ever-present pile of laundry that needs doing.
At least it'll be a smaller ever-present pile.
Silver linings, people, silver linings.
Yesterday, I listened to a co-worker gripe about having to go to yet another meeting.
Me: I know how to get out of meetings.Co-worker: How?
Me: Ask questions they don't want to answer. Bring up points they don't want to consider.
Co-worker: What's the point of that?
Me: Be obnoxious. They'll quit inviting you.
Co-worker: Can you teach me?
Oh yeah, he got me good.
Belgian women's soccer team SK Berlaar had to stomach a 50-1 defeat against rival KV Mechelen on Saturday because their goalkeeper had opted to attend a music concert instead, a local newspaper said.
Oh man, that's gotta be tough, playing without a goalkeeper.
"Our keeper went to Pukkel Pop. That's why," substitute goalkeeper Charlotte Jacobs told Het Laatste Nieuws daily on Monday.
They had a sub? And the other team still scored 50 goals? I'd fine the starting goalie for not taking the substitute with her to the concert.
"At half-time the score was 27-0. But after half-time we were able to recover."
By "recover", she means she only allowed 23 more goals. Sounds like a political analyst working for the Democrats (yeah, I know, cheap shot).
"...we scored once ourselves, right at the end. They allowed us to score. That was sweet of them," Jacobs added.That's the difference between Belgium and the US. They have no fire or passion. You're winning 50 zip and you let the other team score a pity goal?!?!?! WTF? And they're grateful?!?!?!? I'd be out there in a raging fury, risking a stroke over this game. Either side, doesn't matter. Whether storming over getting stomped like that, or royally pissed off by my teammates letting them score. Sweet?
That's just wrong.
We never did get to the rocket launch on Saturday. I'd started feeling ill Friday morning, and had to leave early to take Rachael to the doctor for her pre-admission checkup. She hadn't been feeling all that great, and on the way home she urped. So between both of us feeling less than wonderful, her working both days, all the packing to get done (oldest daughter Robyn and her boyfriend each took a carload down to ODU), plus the hot, oppressive, humid weather, well, we took a pass on standing out in the sun all day (fun as that may be).
Liz takes Rachael to her campus on Thursday. Robyn continues to move her stuff all week. Busy little bees, we are.
With all but a handful of companies already reporting for the quarter, it turns out that three quarters of them met or exceeded their projected earnings.
We hear a lot of noise from those who want us to ignore the fact that we were attacked (thanks to the Flea for the pointer).
Ten tons of steel from the World Trade Center’s twin towers will be used in the construction of the USS New York, according to a Navy official.The San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock is slated to be commissioned in 2008.
Forget? Hell no.
Taco Bell is as good at marketing as Burger King is bad. Very few clunker ads. They don't drive a commercial run into the ground either. The little mutt "Yo Quiero, Taco Bell" could've become obnoxious, but they know to quit a little early - leave 'em wanting more.
What got me to thinking about this is a pile of hot sauce packets in our kitchen. Each one has a prominent little spot on the front with a cute message. For instance:
"It's ok to say it. I love you too."
"Hey, where are you taking me?"
Subtle, simple, effective.
Like I promised I'm going to promise (trust me, it'll make sense eventually).
(in the extended entry - safe for work but may offend delicate sensibilities)
If I understand the story correctly, they bummed around for years under various band names, finally cut an album and waited a couple more years before becoming an overnight sensation.
Now, they're so overplayed that I'm sick of them and wouldn't mind if they faded back into obscurity for a few more years.
Ask and ye shall receive!
In the comments, or drop me a line at RocketJones -at- gmail -dot- youknow.
I've been listening to quite a few podcasts lately, and it seems that the hardware of choice is the PowerBook. I did some comparison shopping, and dang, those things are expensive!
So you can imagine my surprise when I saw this ad on television last night, offering me a Book of Power for only $89.95! Plus it's personally autographed by the Right Reverend Joe Jim Skeevy. It's smaller than that clunky thing y'all are using too.
I know, y'all are rolling your eyes at me right now, but listen, this guys' a preacher, and he made this little crippled kid stand up and everything. I trust him.
I plunked down an extra twenty for super-rush-immediate delivery. So y'all can expect the first Rocket Jones podcast real soon now, as soon as my new Book of Power shows up.
Boy howdy, I'm excited.
...and then Sears called, asking if I wanted to extend my warranty on, of all things, my freezer.
I know she was just a drone, but it still felt good to rip into yet another Sears employee after the way they screwed us over.
I didn't even swear. Honest.
Got home from work yesterday afternoon, chatted with Liz and Rachael for a short bit, said no to dinner, then went to sleep until this morning. I remember getting up twice for a glass of juice and once to let the dogs out.
Once in a while you gotta catch up.
The word "crusade" is generally accepted in the West as a term meaning a great struggle for a cause. To us, it's a strong word to denote a noble and just effort. Yet we're not allowed to use it because it offends Muslims who only see it as a historical reference.
The word "jihad" is generally accepted in the West as a term meaning a great struggle for a cause. The cause may be good, but good is defined by the individual, and we hear most often about the jihad against us infidels, and how they want us all dead or enslaved. So, basically, jihad means war against the West.
Explain to me why we can't use our word, yet they can use theirs?
Robyn (about her boyfriend): I have to take him to work on Monday because his car failed inspection.
Me: Bummer.
Robyn: He's hoping to get his motorcycle fixed this weekend, but he needs a truck to get it to his Dad's house so they can work on it.
Me (remembering): Doesn't he own a truck?
Robyn: Yeah, but it's parked at his house. Needs a transmission.
Me: You might be a redneck if...
Robyn: Be nice.
Not to mention letting Moses head up the NRA. Yet another "nun gun fun" post.
(in the extended entry - safe for work)
You know Dennis Miller would've made some obscure quip about the Reformation here. I'm too damn lazy to look it up, and you probably are too, so I'll go for the cheap and easy joke.
There's something about a woman in uniform, eh?
Guys, if you're packing to the left, try switching to the right, or vice-versa. Of course, if you're scoring plenty then you should ignore this.
We have one of those tower fans in our living room. You know the kind, with three or four little fans stacked vertically. It does a nice job, oscillates, different speeds, all that happy crap a fan does.
But they slipped up on the design. They forgot to hide its intelligence.
This thing has LED displays on the front face, at the top, where it's convenient to read. But when you set it to oscillate on low speed (arguably the most common setting), these two lights look like shining red eyes, tirelessly scanning back and forth across the room. Noting the positions of all life forms in the vicinity.
This fan has a remote control! And guess where it sits? That's right, it's brain sits under a clear plastic canopy on top of the beast. Where it can control things.
Granted, this thing is seriously limited in the amount of malevolence it can project. I mean, it's on a pedestal base. But don't let that fool you, because they've already figured out how to use remote mobile robots to recconoiter your home. Roomba? Small, cheap, dispensible. Sounds like a scout to me.
What we're seeing here is the very beginnings of the takeover. Hollywood gave us the Terminator, then T2 and T3. This fan is probably something like T1/64th. But don't let it's relative weakness lull you into a false sense of security. It wants that. And it's eyes never stop scanning.
For another few weeks, until it gets unplugged and put it up in the attic.
It's nice to air out your darkest paranoias once in a while. But if you forget to put it away again, you wind up on talk radio.
(in the extended entry - safe for work)
(click for holy mackeral size)
What, you'd rather I bring back the zombies?
Last week some wasps decided that the crevice between my front storm door hinge and door jamb would be a dandy place to construct a nest. I grabbed the can of wasp killer (Mookie was impressed that you could aim it accurately out to twenty plus feet) and we hosed the area down pretty good, killing what were probably the insect version of the doozers.
This afternoon at work I got a phone call from the girls, letting me know that the wasps were back in force. I told them where the can of spray was and how to work it. We're not alergic to stings, so bees and such get no drama or hysterics, if they become a pest they are simply dealt with. Humans two, wasps zip.
When I got home, the front stoop was littered with dead wasp carcasses. The girls weren't kidding when they said "back in force".
A little while ago I stepped on a wasp that managed to get into the house before dying, the living room carpet being pretty good camoflage. I was barefoot and the stinger got me on the instep. I swear I heard, in a tiny little buzzing whisper, "From the depths of hell, I spit at thee."
Our Skye Terrier Sam has a new scam going on. If someone's in the kitchen cooking, he'll hang out near the food and water bowls, just kind of loitering. When you go to open or close the fridge, he manages to get in the way of the door, getting whacked in the process. Then he looks up with this expectant look in his eyes and a wide smile*, trying to con you into giving him a goodie since he just got "hurt".
Freakin' ambulance-chasing begger.
*When I say Sam smiles, I mean a full human-type smile showing teeth and all. It's not a snarl or baring his teeth, because I've seen those and this isn't at all menacing. He just looks like a friendly damn dog with a big toothy grin.
To the person who reached Rocket Jones by googling "honkies favorite TV shows":
1. Cops. I keep hoping I'll see one of my relatives.
2. Jerry Springer. Same reason.
Hope that satisfied your curiosity.
No, this isn't a movie review of Midget Gangbangs #4.
Gak, would they even make such a movie? Sure they would, but that doesn't mean I'd want to watch it. Even I have standards, low as they may be.
*consulting notes*
... trigger NetNanny... done...
... quickie...
Mind out of the gutter, intrepid surfer (those faint of heart have long since clicked the back button), this supposed-to-be short post is just to let you know that reality has been hectic lately, so posting will be light for a while longer.
Of course, in blog-speak, that means there's a 75% chance of an increase in volume from the norm from me.
Coming in the near future: more about my mixed feelings about Empty Nesting, the financial education you get before setting foot on a college campus, geektech wizardry and an interesting trend in blogdom that may have touched yours truly.
Yes, it's exciting times around ol' Rocket Jones! In the words of the immortal bard:
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks,
Who partook of the merry company 'round Jones.
Yeah, I made that last line up. Sue me. Or pretend it's Danny DeVito reading it to you. Whatever floats yer boat.
I must've slept through this part of catechism class.
(in the extended entry - safe for work)
Disclaimer: This should in no way be taken as an endorsement by the Catholic Church on the proper method of dealing with zombies.
(in the extended entry for the bandwidth impaired - it's safe for work)
(click for Holy Moley size)
Remember during the last election when the Dramacrats were so vocal about moving to Canada if Dubya won?
Canadians can put away those extra welcome mats -- it seems Americans unhappy about the result of last November's presidential election have decided to stay at home after all.In the days after President Bush won a second term, the number of U.S. citizens visiting Canada's main immigration Web site shot up sixfold, prompting speculation that unhappy Democrats would flock north.
But official statistics show the number of Americans actually applying to live permanently in Canada fell in the six months after the election. (emphasis mine)
Apparently they all decided to stay and whine. It certainly doesn't seem as if many decided to join the political debate in any meaningful way.
Have you seen that television commercial where the guy walks through a lab and "reads" the ingredients from an anonymous drink? It sounds horrible and even he can't pronounce some of those evil chemicals.
Then he says, "or you can have my favorite, orange juice. Ingredients: fresh air, rain, sunshine."
Damn, that's the ingredients for hemlock too! And marijuana! Or the actual freakin' orange tree itself by that logic. Mmmmm, liquified tree.
Here's a thought, instead of assuming I'm an idiot, why don't you read me the actual chemical composition of OJ, and lets see how many compounds you mispronounce.
I think I'll have a glass of apple juice.
Former Capitals defensiveman Sergei Gonchar signs with Pittsburgh. Added to Lemieux, Crosby and goalie-phenom Theury (assuming he's over the shell shock from last season), the Penguins are very much improved. Haven't heard much about moves to buck up their defense though (Gonchar is an offensive-minded guy).
I may have to update this later to correct mispelled names.
I don't watch much television, and most shows bore me about halfway through a season. This is, without a doubt, one of the funniest episodes of any show I've ever seen.
Dharma & Greg: "Much Ado About Nothing", aka The Seinfeld Plot.
Dharma and her friend Jane vie for possesion of a stuffed duck, awarded to the couple who has sex in the most unusual place. Dharma comes up with the idea of doing it on the steps of City Hall during the airing of the last episode of Seinfeld, since everyone will be inside watching TV. While planning the caper, Greg's very conservative parents learn of the plot and are apalled. Jane interferes and Dharma and Greg are busted. Sitting in the police station, Greg's parents are brought in for the same thing, it seems they were inspired. When it comes out that the parents actually consumated their lovemaking, as opposed to Dharma and Greg's arrestus interuptus, Jane and Dharma award the duck to Greg's parents. Looking at the stuffed waterfowl, Greg's dad says, "This is a goose".
To which Dharma replies, "That doesn't rhyme."
I laughed so hard my sides hurt.
The Vice President of Sudan has died in "an airplane crash".
The scare quotes are mine. There is no evidence at this time that points to anything except a tragic accident.
This doesn't encourage me:
Garang, who earned a doctorate from Iowa State University, is seen as the sole figure with the weight to give southern Sudanese a role in the Khartoum government, which they deeply mistrust.
You know, the Islamic government that routinely bombs it's own non-Muslim people in refugee camps. The government that refuses to acknowlege the thriving slave trade going on where Islamic northerners kidnap Christians and Animists living in the south. Yeah, that government. And now the main player in the mix for the infidel south has died in an aircraft accident.
He also was a strong voice against outright secession by the south, calling instead for autonomy and power-sharing.Sudanese have celebrated the power-sharing agreement — and a new constitution signed afterward — as opening a new chapter of peace and as a chance to resolve other bloody conflicts in Sudan, including the humanitarian crisis in the western region of Darfur. Garang was also seen as a great hope for peace in Darfur.
Some hated him because they saw no need for power-sharing, they already had the power. Others wanted secession and civil war, despite being hopelessly outmatched and the near-certainty that the government would have gleefully accelerated their systematic destruction of their southern population. You know, the one's not under Sharia law.
The article tries hard to be upbeat about the continuing prospects for peace, indicating that no Rwandan-style buildup to violence has been noted. Of course, no buildup was noticed in Rwanda either before almost one million people were massacred in three months. Everyone is saying the right words, but some things aren't adding up quite yet. It could be the confusion of the moment, and the situation may clear up as details emerge.
But we've seen similar circumstances before.
I hope I'm wrong. I won't be surprised if I'm not.
Sitting here in front of me are two naked oranges.
Not naked as in bereft of rind, but still naked in a way nature never intended oranges to be. There's a story here. It's short, but makes up for that by being entirely pointless and probably boring.
My wife, Liz, works for a rather large medical practice. A dozen doctors, plus nurses of various kinds, administrative staff and auxiliary support adds up to some seventy or so.
On Friday's they'll often do a "theme" sort of thing, good for morale I guess, where everyone dresses in Hawaiian shirts or some such. Often, food is involved. Today's event was bizarre, it was "bring your favorite dessert" day. I suspect that the practice may be secretly planning to expand services into the nutrition field, or perhaps even dentistry, and this is a ploy to jump start the customer base.
So Liz mentions the upcoming "bring your favorite dessert" day, which automatically translated in my mind to "untested recipe on unsuspecting guinea pigs" day.
At home, if I make something new and I'm the only one in the family that likes it (and why would I cook something I wouldn't like?), then I'll eat it Thanksgiving turkey-style, until I can't stand the sight of it and then throw whatever's left away. Then I'm sick of it and don't want it for a long while... until I get a hankerin' and the whole cycle repeats anew.
But I love these office parties. They give me a chance to whip up something new and experimental without worrying about who's going to like it. If the wife and kids enjoy it, it goes into my recipe binder. If not, oh well.
So I made orange cookies. I don't remember where I got the recipe, but it was a long time ago. I know John posted something similar once, and I've seen variations here and there. I'll post my version sometime in the next few days.
They're pretty good, and (score!) Liz and Robyn like them.
But they call for lots of grated orange zest, so for lunch today, I've got these two naked oranges in front of me.
I like Oreo cookies. I don't have them in the house very often, because that would be bad for me.
When they came out with Uh-Oh's a while back, I thought it was cute. White cookie with chocolate creme. Not as good as classic Oreos, but tasty.
Their latest is Golden Oreos. Vanilla cookie and vanilla creme. They even suggest dunking them in chocolate milk. Cutsie, but again, they're pretty good.
But they ain't the original.
Pass the Pigs. Ever play?
Two small dice-sized plastic pigs that you roll like dice. Depending on how they land, you score points. Kinda like barnyard craps, where you keep throwing until you pass the pigs or Pig Out and lose all your points for that turn. If the pigs touch after the throw, that's an Oinker and you go back to zero for the game. Pigs is clean.
And the pigs themselves are a marvel of engineering. They can land on their feet (called a Trotter for 5 points) or on their back (Razorback, also 5 points). Landing on their nose and front legs is a Snouter, worth a big 10, and occasionally you see a Leaning Jowler, where the pig balances on one front leg, his snout and an ear (15 points). Double 'em up and score big with Double Razorbacks or Double Snouters and the triple-20 of the pigs universe, the Double Leaning Jowler.
As rare as Double Leaning Jowlers are - I've seen four or five in my years of playing pigs, including tossing a couple of my own - the rarest positions are the ones you want to avoid. Piggyback is self-explanatory, and Makin' Bacon should be too. I've seen a couple Piggyback's, and only one Makin' Bacon. The penalty for throwing these is severe: immediate loss of the game. Like I said, pigs is clean.
So next time you're with friends, at home or it a bar, crack open a few beers (helluva drinking game) and introduce them to Pass the Pigs. You can find them at many toy and game stores (Spencer's Gifts used to sell them I know). *snicker* I should've know that Amazon would have them.
And if you wanna get a better idea of what I'm talking about, I found an online version that plays just like the real thing.
Heh, he said Makin' Bacon... heh heh.
Last week, I just happened to be looking out our front door and saw a hummingbird sipping at the petunias growing in a hanging pot. Hummingbirds are not common in our area.
The next time we were at Wal-Mart, we picked up a cheap plastic hummingbird feeder and a couple of packages of nectar mix. I've checked on it periodically, but couldn't tell if it had been discovered.
Yesterday we were sitting in the car, getting ready to run some errands, when Liz alerted me to the bird feeder. Out little friend had returned. We sat there for a few minutes as she (dulled coloration, I'm assuming female) hovered and sipped from the feeder. She's fast too, when finished she zoomed up and over the house like a fighter jet on fulll afterburner.
I just sat there grinning like a little kid, tickled to death to see that our feeder was being used, and maybe we'd attract more hummingbirds to the yard. Liz commented that I was soooo easy to please.
Exactly.
I've noticed a macabre trend lately on the road, where people put large decals memorializing their deceased loved ones on their automobile's rear window. To me, they're nothing more than clear vinyl tombstones. I'm not slamming the sentiment behind them, but the concept itself really creeps me out. Someone is getting rich selling these things to old folks too.
Driving home from the grocery store, the radio station went into it's commercial break. Suddenly this Euro-techno-trance music started playing (not entirely misdirected at the demographics for this station), and after a few seconds, a raggedy-ass rap starts in.
Your front window's broke,
The gutters need cleanin',
Closet door stuck,
And your washer ain't machinin'.Da roof been leakin',
Carpets need cleanin',
Room needs paintin',
And the hot water's broke.(that's approximated by the way)
Ok, so the idea here is that you should call a handyman, right? Probably some ultra-cool handyhomey.
Not quite. The music fades to background and a veddy English voice starts to tell you about a plumbing company. Yep, just plumbing. I guess the rest of your problems are trivial as long as you got hot water.
And the company name is distinctly Anglophile. I mean, "White Boys with Monkey Wrenches" would be more 'street' than the actual name of the company.
Incomprehensible.
Good morning, things around here are going all right.
My wife Liz had her sinus surgery yesterday and everything looks good (I'm calling it sinus surgery because they stuffed a camera and laser and bone shaver up her nose). It's too early to tell for sure, but now that the pressures on her optic nerves have been eased, we expect her vision problems to go away. She's also still a few days away from being able to go back on her regular medications - you know, the ones that keep her out of her wheelchair. During the last week or so we were treated to a fast-forward version of the physical deterioration that she went through over the course of about 10 years, before the current generation of drugs were developed and available. Personally, I'm a fan of big Pharma, and anyone who bitches about them ought to pick any three family members and imagine them dead and gone, because odds are they would be without those "evil profit-sucking global monsters".
Me? I'm exhausted and wrung-out and working my way through a nightmare list of things to get taken care of around the house. Happy as hell to do it too, because Liz is gonna be ok.
Thanks too for all the kind words and good thoughts and prayers, they're appreciated more than I could ever say.
In our Fantasy Baseball league, I'm currently sitting in sixth place out of ten teams.
You know what that means, right?
I'm all alone at the top of the second division!
All Half bow before me, for I am mighty.
My provider has informed me that they're aware of an outage in Northern Virginia. I can only occasionally get online, and not for any length of time in any one stretch.
Talk to you later when they get it fixed.
If I have sex with my clone, is it masturbation or incest?
Don't remember where I heard that...
Our nine hour drive took twelve hours and fifteen minutes, thanks to two meal stops, two gas stops and two shopping stops. We had to stretch it out a little bit to make sure we missed the evening rush hour in Baltimore and DC. Everything went smoooooth.
We like to avoid the turnpikes and toll roads (probably $30.00 in tolls each way, I kid you not!), so we take a slightly longer but much more scenic route. I can't recall the precise road numbers right offhand, but we passed Yale University, and I had to laugh at Sodom Road. Who would want to live there?
We also passed Liberty Road, and it was cool that someone had fastened an American Flag to the streetsign post.
I thought it was great that the place where we met for lunch was on Boston Post Rd, aka Route 1. If you follow that road south long enough, you can hang a right in Woodbridge, Virginia and be within a few minutes of my house. Of course, down here Route 1 is known as Jefferson Davis Highway.
A note about the casinos in Connecticut (is that spelled right?): Both are nice, in very different styles. Foxwoods is Atlantic City nice, but Mohegan Sun is Vegas nice. If you've never been to Las Vegas, then you wouldn't understand. I much prefer Mohegan Sun, because there's so much to see and do, even if you don't gamble.
I gambled a grand total of $5.00 in two days at the casinos.
As we neared home, we were listening for traffic and weather reports. Apparently just south of us they've gotten hammered by rain. We heard that trees are down on the interstate and other major roads, and Route 1 is blocked by a mudslide. We've gotten a few sprinkles and that's it. The storms seem to be staying south too.
We have two very happy dogs.
We saw Don Rickles last night (tonight actually, since I haven't gone to bed yet). He's still funny as hell, and I can only hope that I'm half as spry and energetic as he is at that age.
Jerry Vale was in the audience. Cool.
I guess Hicksville was already taken.
(posted from the road, in Scranton, PA)
Since it's highly unlikely that the entire internet has been crashing repeated since last night, the process of elimination leaves me to conclude that I'm having a problem at my end. So begins the "dealing with the help desk" process...
Now that cranking up the stereo has been redefined as torture, and we've all been tragically reminded about what this whole "war on terror" is about, I think it's time to codify our official "torture" response. In ascending order of harshness:
Yeah, call me barbaric.
Tim Brown will sign a one-day contract so that he can retire as an Oakland Raider.
Brown, who turns 39 on July 22, played the first 16 of his 17 seasons with the Raiders, and always hoped to be remembered as the organization's greatest receiver. He was the last former member of the Los Angeles Raiders and the person young players turned to for advice.The self-proclaimed "Mr. Raider" holds most of the club's receiving records, and his 240 games with the team are the most in franchise history.
Brown was a first-round draft choice by the Raiders in 1988 out of Notre Dame.
Thank you Tim Brown, you've always been a class act and quietly built your credentials proving that you're one of the all-time greats.
Reports are mixed, with authorities saying some blasts were caused by electrical overloads, yet at least one packed bus was devastated by a bomb. There's no word on the casualty count, except to confirm that deaths have occurred.
This is a police matter only long enough to stabilize the situation and to do the forensic investigations. After that, it becomes a military action to find and neutralize the monsters who intentionally target civilians.
ACLU, obstructionists and revisionists, and the rest of the human ostriches who refuse to acknowlege reality, please crawl back under your rock, slither back into your holes, and rebury your head in the sand, respectively, so that the rest of us can deal with this terrorist threat.
(revised after reflection that this could be an IRA action, although I think that's a rather remote possibility)
UPDATE: Helen of Everyday Stranger has posted that she, her beloved Angus, and her coworkers are all safe and accounted for.
I wasn't going to hit you. Honest! But I was so busted by the time I saw you standing there with your radar gun, and well, I had to do something to distract you before you got my license plate. I'm sorry about your uniform too, because I'm sure the ditch you dived into was muddy from the storms last night. I'd offer to pay the cleaning bill, but then that would kinda defeat the purpose of the whole thing, now wouldn't it?
Not that I'm admitting anything.
Me (picking up phone): Hello?
Phone: Good afternoon Mr. Phillips. This is not a sales call, I'm taking a brief survey and ---
Me: *sigh* It's Phipps. You can't even be bothered to get the name right, so why should I talk to you?
Phone: I'm sorry sir. I have a few questions to ask and if you would give me a few minutes of your time to respond it would be appreciated.
Me: Questions about what?
Phone: Political issues.
Me: Go for it.
Phone: First, sir, some demographic information (asks about age, sex, zip code, etc., smooth sailing right up until...) Are you a registered voter?
Me: Yes.
Phone: Would you characterize yourself as a Democrat or as a Republican?
Me: That's a meaningless question.
Phone: Pardon?
Me: I'm a white male, raised in a christian home, so according to the head of the DNC, that makes me a Republican, regardless of what I'm registered as.
Phone: *long pause* Would you say your annual income is between --
Me: I make no reportable income. In fact, I've never worked an honest day in my life.
Phone: *longer pause* Of the following issues, which would you say is more important to you? Is it --
Me: Let me explain something to you. I decide who gets my vote based on the issues and who's position I agree with. Sometimes it's a Republican, sometimes it's a Democrat. But because of the rhetoric and namecalling coming from the Democrats and the asinine obstruction of any real debate, I've decided that for the first time in my life I'm going to vote straight Republican. I'm doing this to show Dean and Pelosi and that nitwit from Nevada that I'm tired of their childish antics and that I expect, no, I demand better from them. The Republicans could run Charles Manson for office, and right now I'd vote for him over Jesus Christ himself to make this point. Change the Democratic leadership and offer me some reasonable and rational alternatives, or I keep protesting with my vote.
Phone: *pause long enough to make me think he's hung up* Senator Reid.
Me: Excuse me?
Phone: The Senator from Nevada is Senator Reid.
Me: Well, you know what they say: the only things in Nevada are cactus and hookers. The man is a saguaro-sized prick, but he's got the ethics of a Vegas whore.
Phone (gallant attempt at a closing rally): Thank you Sir, for taking the time to respond --
Me: Nothing personal, son, but I want you to note that I'm pissed about what is happening and what I'm hearing.
Phone (pressing on): -- for taking the time to respond to this survey.
Me: Democrat.
Phone: Pardon?
Me: I'm a lifelong registered Democrat. *click*
I feel like I'm pissing into the wind, but you've gotta make the attempt.
Not much going on around here. We used to throw a hundred bucks into the kitty with a couple of neighbors and make the run to West Virginia for "real" fireworks, but got turned off a couple of years ago when it started turning into drunken-idiots-with-roman-candles night. The kids are gone this year, plus I get plenty of "whoosh" year round, so we'll probably just sit on our porch and watch the happenings on the street and admire the good stuff going boom over the trees.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Sam.
Mu.Nu had server problems yesterday, so even though I wanted to post I could not. It was pretty much system-wide, although the occasional post was allowed through. Pixy tracked down the problem to an upgrade to PERL (automatically installed) that's incompatible with Movable Type, plus a couple of denial of service attacks. This kind of trouble makes me glad that I'm still a mainframe programmer. I'd go crazy trying to track something like that down.
Fresh blueberry pancakes, it's what's for breakfast!
Mmmmmmm.
I think I've exceeded my quarterly quota for swearing.
I've been doing a slow burn over the sheer stupidity demonstrated by recent events. Durbin (no honoriffic for that asswipe) ignoring the worldwide impact his slur upon our American troops has inflicted, just to score a cheap political shot against the administration, followed by the flag burning amendment, to the manufactured outrage by Democrats over Rove quoting from a Dem fundraising organization, to our (you didn't read that "our" with enough sarcasm, go back and try again) Supreme Court deciding that owning property doesn't really mean you own it if someone else with more money wants it.* I've fucking had it.
Right up until I read this article about a Russian woman suing NASA over an upcoming scientific space mission.
When NASA's Deep Impact spacecraft hurls a barrel-size probe at a comet millions of miles from Earth on July 4, Marina Bai of Moscow will take it very personally.The 45-year-old mother of two is so upset about the space agency's scientific assault on the celestial body that she has taken the unusual step of suing NASA in Moscow courts. Her lawsuit seeks to block the launch of the probe and to recover $311 million in "moral" damages.
Bai, a self-published author and spiritualist, said that she couldn't sleep after watching a television report about the Deep Impact mission, which is led by a team of astronomers at the University of Maryland, when it was launched Jan. 12.
"Somewhere deep inside me a voice told me the whole mission had to be stopped," she said in an interview yesterday. "I fear that it could have an impact on all humanity."
In court papers, Bai asserts that Deep Impact will "infringe upon my system of spiritual and life values, in particular on the values of every element of creation, upon the unacceptability of barbarically interfering with the natural life of the universe, and the violation of the natural balance of the universe."
Dolores Beasley, a spokeswoman for NASA, said it would be "inappropriate" to comment.
"Inappropriate" is NASA legal-speak for ROFLMAO.
And what the fuck are "moral" damages?
But Bai fears the bombardment could disrupt mystical forces. More practically, she added, it might create an open season on celestial objects by the world's spacefaring nations."If the Americans can study comets with the help of bombs, why not the Chinese?" she asked. "Americans want to be ahead of everybody. And maybe that's good, but not in this case. It's a barbaric method, to study the universe with bombs."
I'm not entirely certain, but I don't think the probe is an actual bomb. I thought it was just an impactor that would achieve its effect by kinetic energy.
"It's a barbaric method, to study the universe with bombs"
We'll never live up to those paragons of finesse and restraint, the Russians.
I don't care how long the line is Ms. Bai, stand in it and get another roll of tin foil. Your hat is obviously not thick enough.
*And for those proclaiming that this is a victory for WalMart, as if they're the main evil in the world, shut the fuck up and open your eyes. This isn't WalMart's doing, and nobody is going to steal your home to build another one. This is about developers putting up resorts and business parks and convention centers.
We had a wickedcool thunderstorm blow through the other night.
My most comfortable pair of work shoes squeak.
Those two items are totally unrelated, but that's not really the reason for this post, now is it?
I watched that documentary called Real Genius and saw where we could incinerate a person from orbit. Now they claim we're just developing it? No way man.
Seriously though, check out this priceless bit where the mouth breathers manage to go from solar sail powered spacecraft to...
"a military weapon, capable of destroying cities and incinerating armies in the battlefield from space."
...in several tortured leaps of logic (I half expect Spock himself to come back through time to apply the Vulcan Bitch Slap on me for even using the term "logic" here).
Best $4 million dollars we ever spent, eh? Which is, what, a fraction of what we pay for each cruise missile? Hell, for the cost of the free school lunch program, we could blanket the heavens with enough little magic mirrors (my suggested euphemism for "orbital based death ray platforms") to keep America's rich and powerful rich and powerful forever!
Halliburton!!!!
Thanks to Rand Simberg (who may have to disappear after leaking this smoking gun (yes, I torture lots of things, including metaphores, it's the conservative in me)).
The kids are in awe of me now that I've decided to take a public stand about things...
Prunes are hella good.
...even when they don't agree with me. Not only do they not think that prunes are yummy, they claim that I am not allowed to say "hella" anything.
In regards to the lack of exposure to classic cinema for my daughters. They can now both say that they have seen Young Frankenstein. They laughed, they cried (Robyn still has her stitches), they enjoyed it.
I've always been, in the vernacular, a linker rather than a thinker. Proud of my place in the grand scheme of things, even when called that less than complimentary term: link whore. If the shoe fits, as they say.
But what does bother me is the idea that I might be the blogging equivalent of People magazine. Somewhere, some tech-savvy blogger takes his laptop into the john and calls up Rocket Jones while he sits upon the throne, because like the aforementioned dead tree rag, my public writings are short, shallow, insipid (or all three) enough to indulge in during the length of an average crap (to paraphrase a great movie line).
I'll never be exclusively a thinker, but in order to add some variety to my normal blogging, I'm toying with the idea of posting more opinion pieces. So, to kick things off, I'd like to say:
Peas. I like them.
A little mental fiber to go along with the flake.
The fourth sentence of the book lets you know that you're not in your half-remembered childhood version of Oz.
Though winter storms and the crowbars of agitators had torn up the road, still it led, relentlessly, to the Emerald City.
That's from the Prologue of Wicked, subtitled The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West.
If you've never read the Oz books then you might not realize that the stories are satirical commentary on a par with Orwell's Animal Farm or Swift's Gulliver's Travels. If you've ever wondered where the Wicked Witch came from, or Dorothy's posse, or how the Wizard came to rule Oz, well, this book gives the background.
There's charm and delight here, but very much buried under a layer of grime and despair that many of the characters struggle with in their early lives. This feels right, because ofttimes strength of character is forged by overcoming adversity.
My recommendation? It's in the title. Just go in with your eyes open.
The book was the basis for the Broadway show Wicked, which has a kickass soundtrack too.
I started reading this yesterday during my wait at the hospital. I'm also in the middle of P.G. Wodehouse's Something Different in eBook format, but during yesterday's stressgrinder it was comforting to hold a solid, substantial book in my hands.
One of my quirks is that I have to be covered when I sleep. Not necessarily all the way under blankets, but I sleep better if there's something thrown over me at least a little bit.
Now that summer is here, we've pulled out my Care Bear sheets. I don't remember which daughter they belonged to*, but they're at least 15 years old and worn enough to watch TV through. So thin that they don't block the breeze from the fan. Perfect for covering up Dad while he naps on the couch during the dog days.
I sleep much better curled up with my Care Bears.
*My family actually had a discussion about the other night when oldest daughter Robyn referred to "her" Care Bears. I immediately corrected her and we rediscovered the following facts:
When I'm not.
And I don't think it's me.
I can't find the exact quote, but yesterday while speaking about the Congressional apology about lynchings, Prince William County Supervisor Jack Johnson said (something like):
The apology is nice, but I think the healing will happen when there is verbal atonement.
I wasn't aware that Congress did that bit of business via interpretive dance.
GreenPeace
PETA
Amnesty International
Because with them, it's their way or no way, and we've all heard how that kind of black & white thinking is wrong.
I saw someone (sorry, forgot who) mentioned that new show "Hit Me Baby One More Time" or whatever it's called, and that you get to *vote* on which washed-up relic was the best during the episode. It's getting so that you can't have a program anymore without a viewer vote. Before you know it, on "The L Word" you'll be deciding who gets to eat who.
Our next blogger get-together will be on June 25th at the Prince William County Stadium to watch the Washington Nationals farm club play the Baltimore Orioles farm club. This could be the start of a long and heated rivalry.
I'll be there for sure, and I believe the rest of the family is in this time too. Rob & Big Hair have confirmed as well.
Last time we got a block of seats and they were pretty darn good at only $9.00 each. We had a great time, so c'mon out!
Something that really irritates me is when listening to a song and coming across something like this:
"I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch" -- Pink, Just Like A Pill
I love that song, really I do. But I cringe every time I hear "shortage in the switch". I realize that the tune flows better with that phrase, but c'mon, it's not slang or idiom, it's an intentional misuse of a word that makes it nonsense. You can have a short in a switch, but not a shortage.
Nitpicky? You bet.
Need another example? How about in Maria Muldaur's Midnight at the Oasis. A very sexy song with a wonderful melody, sung by a singer with a great voice for it, and the word play and imaging is excellent. Oasis, sultan, camel, sheik, belly dancer, nomad, and so on, right up until the line:
Come on, Cactus is our friend
Cactus?!?!?!?! Where the hell did the cactus come from? I thought we were in a thousand and one Arabian nights, not a Roadrunner cartoon. You say cactus and I'm picturing the American southwest or Mexico. Your romantic camel just became a burro refusing to budge for no damn reason while Gabby Hayes mutters "dagnabbit". Talk about a mood breaker.
What about you? Got some song lyric that just grates on your nerves?
I'm *still* getting comments and email about my posts on stripper music. If you Google "Stripper Music", Rocket Jones comes up #1.
No idea what I'm talking about? Follow that link and read the comments, then let everyone know what your favorite music is to watch and/or dance to.
I don't think I've mentioned my view of the whole spectacle.
When that much money is involved, I start with the assumption that everyone is lying. Since I can't see for myself the mannerisms and reactions of the parties involved, forming any opinion would just be shooting off my mouth.
I have to trust the system to do the right thing.
That probably should be Dad Bachelor instead, to put it into the right order.
My wife Liz needed a break, so she left from work on an overnighter out of town (tomorrow is her day off). She had enough travel points for a freebie at one of the hotel chains, and is now, even as we speak, pulling the handle on slot machines and maybe even placing a bet or two on the ponies.
I'll probably do something similar this fall, 'cept I'll head south to spend the weekend launching rockets down in North Carolina. She's got her ways of burning money. I've got mine.
Mookie has been agitating for a party. Her birthday parties always suck because in July everyone is out of town for the summer. This year she came up with the idea of a birthday/end-of-school party, to be held in the afternoon of the last day of school. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and two fake heart attacks on my part, she whittled the guest list down to 50.
The next battle was over the venue. Her idea (and not all that bad) was to have the party in our backyard and the common area behind our house. The stopper there was the certainty of neighborhood crashers, some who would probably be taking full advantage of the chance to case my home for a later, unsupervised, visit. Nope, our house was out for that many kids.
We suggested checking into pavilions at some of the local parks, and this afternoon Mookie and I drove to one close by and looked around. Even if it was too late to reserve a pavilion for next friday (as I suspected), there was still plenty of room to spread out blankets and toss frisbees and footballs and kick around the hacky sack. We found the number for the park office and she made the call.
Half an hour later we were in the park office and I was signing the contract to reserve the largest pavilion for the entire day. We got it for half price because it was a weekday ($20 bucks and some change - cheap!), and we were about 15 minutes ahead of a cub scout leader who also wanted it. Maximum of 50 kids, no alcohol, no live band or DJ, all the usual stuff you'd expect.
So that was the "dad" part. The "bachelor" part isn't that my wife is away until tomorrow night, it's because I had a bowl of corn flakes for dinner.
What the hell happened?
I remember when you'd have a barbeque by throwing some hot dogs and burgers on the grill and lay out a bowl of baked beans, another of potato salad, and maybe some cole slaw and pickles. Then Atkins came along and the meat disappeared instantly while everything else went untouched. So you adapted and grilled a ton o' critter-du-jour and maybe a few veggies alongside. Now it's like the pendulum swung back the other way while I wasn't looking.
We've been eating a lot of salads lately, because that's what we do in the summer. I might cook up a burger or chicken breast each, but just as often we'll forage from the salad bar in the fridge.
We've also had quite a few visitors over for dinner recently, but apparently they're all on the anti-Atkins diet and nobody bothered to warn me. Going through the fridge this morning, I found Italian sausages, marinated chicken breasts, pork roast and a big bowl of leftover Chicken Mo Fo. I'm not a fanatic about wasting food, but throwing out that much would be ridiculous.
For lunch today, I'm having a bowl of meat. For dinner tonight, we're having leftovers.
Driving past Ikea, an employee wearing the standard blue and yellow work outfit was waddling through the crosswalk, and not being brisk about it. Sitting there, waiting for said employee to clear the street, it occurred to me that since Ikea gives everything some odd name, he probably works under a sign that says "Rolypoly".
Last night was my wife's late night at the office, and she had errands to run afterwards. When she walked in the door, she handed me a grocery bag full of things, dug a piece of paper out of her purse, dropped it into the bag and commanded me to "Bake!"
It's some kind of cookie that one of the nurses brought in. Liz loved it so much that she got the recipe and stopped on the way home to get the ingredients. I'm thinking Thursday evening, since it's supposed to rain then. I'll let you know how they turn out, because they do sound yum.
This makes sense:
It's infinitely better to work with nature than to work against it - just as it's better to work with the grain of the wood. -- Dame Jill Knight
Then again, so does this:
There is nothing that great about nature. Nature is full of diseases; it's full of failures. Almost every organism that's born on the planet fails - doesn't make it to reproductive age. Humans are rather better than that - most of us do make it to reproductive age. In fact many of us reproduce. That's a great achievement, and that's an artificial achievement. If you leave it to nature, all you get is a lot of dead babies. -- Oliver Morton
Hmmmm.
Credit where due. Sometime late this morning we lost internet service at the house. When I got home around 1pm I did the normal routine (reset the modem, reset the router, reboot the PC), but apparently not in the correct order or something. A call to Comcast and the help desk technician helped us get back up and running in less than an hour.
I also note that they've gotten used to the idea that many people hang routers off their modems. Time was, they'd have you disconnect everything so that only your PC was on the modem. Now they assume you're using the router and deal with it in a generic way.
Comcast has been extremely reliable for us over the last several years, and although fixes haven't always been this quick and easy, they've gotten it right sooner or later. Your milage may vary, but based on my experiences I'd recommend them.
I'm pissed off right now. Mookie has spent probably 40+ hours as a student volunteer doing stage managing work for a show put on tonight by her school choir, including 12 hours just in the last few days.
Burney, the choir teacher, didn't see fit to say thank you to her or the other three kids who ran the stage and handled lighting and cues. Not even a mention in the program. He did give the kids what they took as a veiled threat before the show about not screwing it up.
The title of this post is Google-bait. I want anyone who looks for "GarField" or "music" or "choir" or "Burny" to find this.
Mookie would probably say something like, "Mr. Burny, you suck.", because she's too polite to flat out call you an asshole. But I'm not.
In fact, the phrase "ungrateful cocksucker" comes to mind.
I'm tired of those lame Bush's Baked Beans commercials. I bet that I could dice that canine traitor fine enough that nobody would know the difference between salt pork and salt Duke.
The more I hear about it, the less I want to see Star Wars. I'd spend the entire movie snickering and mocking the lame-ass names that pepper the franchise. I almost retched over the original Luke "Skywalker", and it's gone downhill in a hurry from there.
The family of "Deep Throat" may cash in on fame. Surprise, surprise. He wasn't the hero a lot of people were hoping for, he was a disgruntled employee getting even for being passed over on a promotion. In hindsight, being capable of that kind of treachery makes me believe that it's a good thing he was never put in complete control of the FBI. I'm not defending Nixon and what that gang of nimrods did, but it's now obvious that he wasn't the only asshole involved either.
Speaking of, damn Bush for causing those homes in California to fall off that mountainside. I bet global warming or nuclear winter or something eco is the cause of it.
Our next blogger demolition derby get-together will be on June 25th at the Prince William County Stadium.
The Nats Kory Casto just ended a streak of eleven straight games where he hit a double. The MLB record is seven games, held by several players. And who says there's no excitement in single-A ball? Heck, they even sell beer!
The Prince William Cannons Potomac Nationals will be playing the Frederick Keys. Last time we got a block of seats and they were pretty darn good at only $9.00 each. We had a great time, so c'mon out!
Ace, among others, has cowbell.
Random Nuclear Strikes has Professor Booty (not safe for work).
What'cha think, a little Rocket Jones bouncy-bouncy for special occasions?
Over the holiday weekend I finished reading Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders, a fictional story about an interesting lady. It was written in 1722, four years after his classic Robinson Crusoe.
What amused me though, was the title of the work as presented on the first page:
The Fortunes & Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders &c. Who was Born in Newgate, and during a Life of continu'd Variety for Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five times a Wife (whoerof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief, Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv'd Honest, and dies a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums.
Ms. Flanders (not her real name, we never learn that) is an extraordinary character, and despite the gruesome litany of her exploits given above, she's not an unkind person and is easy to be sympathetic to. The place of her birth, Newgate, was a prison of the day, where her mother was under a sentence of death.
An excellent read, once you get into the flow of the archaic writing style and vocabulary.
Rachael and I were talking about blogs and blogging the other day, and she mentioned how many of her friends have Live Journals that they use as a place to vent and rant.
If you've ever spent any time skimming through Live Journals, you'd come away with the impression that half the teens in America are Columbine-capable manic depressives with a severe death wish.
Rachael admitted to being worried about some of her friends that she doesn't see very often, because she reads their Live Journals and expects them to be seriously screwed up in the head. Then, when they get together she's a little freaked by how normal and happy they are.
That's the problem with blogs in general. Your place to rant and rave or bare all or throw out wry commentary is nothing more than a mask. Intimacy is simulated by the details and personal nature of one's posts, but we're all just looking at the face the author wishes us to see. When you don't understand that or forget, then you get a very skewed perspective on who a person is and what they're really like. Little wonder then, that not only is it almost impossible to adaquately explain what blogging is to someone who's never heard of it, but that the whole blogging phenomenom is so misunderstood by pretty much everyone (media, politicians and even bloggers themselves).
Peeps, I'm taking a couple of days off for an extra-long weekend. This is my first real time off since last August.
I'm not doing anything special, just some down time. I've got a long list of little things to do around the house which I may or may not bother with. Rocket Jones falls into that category, so if you don't hear from me for a few days, well, you know I'll be back soon enough.
In the meantime, go visit Alien Loves Predator. Really. I had tears from laughing so hard.
Female: I hate having my period.
Me: Look at the bright side.
Female: What bright side?
Me: In school, you never had to go do a problem at the black board while sporting a boner.
Female: *snort*
Around this time of year, Little Debbie starts coming out with various 4th of July themed goodies. I noticed that on the back of the box for their "Stars and Stripes" cupcakes they've put a primer on how to display the American flag.
It's that my fantasy league baseball team sucks that bad.
From my friend Gordon Tatro:
This was a pretty interesting story from The Sunday Wichita Eagle Newspaper a couple of weeks ago. A resident in the area saw a ball bouncing around kind of strange in a nearby pond and went to investigate. It turned out to be a flathead catfish who had obviously tried to swallow a child's basketball which became stuck in its mouth!!The fish was totally exhausted from trying to dive, but unable to because the ball would always bring him back up to the surface. The resident tried numerous times to get the ball out, but was unsuccessful. He finally had his wife cut the ball in order to deflate it and release the hungry catfish.
He finishes up with this bit of wisdom:
I suppose you need pictures in order to believe this? OK... But just remember:Be kinder than necessary...
for every creature you meet (be they human or not)...
is fighting some kind of battle.
ZZ Bub.
"Lord take me downtown. I'm just looking for some tush."
Maybe the US should head north and provide a little (re)democratization in Canada. The political situation there has gone way beyond farce.
I'd love to see a contingent of Iraqi peacekeepers patrolling the streets of Ottawa.
My "official" email address has changed over on the sidebar. The hotmail account has been gradually overrun by spam, so I'm making the switch to Gmail. You'll still be able to reach me at the old account, but be aware that my response might be delayed because I'm not checking it as often as I used to.
One of my little foibles is that I hate to mispronounce someone's name. I won't remember it (I'm terrible with faces and names), but I'll absolutely work on the pronounciation until I get it right before forgetting it.
A couple of blogging friends have names that I'm sure I butcher, even if only in my mind.
Boudicca - I pronounce it "bow (like the front of a ship) dee-cha", and the emphasis goes on either of the first two sylables interchangably, for no good reason.
Prochein Amy - In my mind, I say "pro-cheen", rhymes with protein. Dunno if that's right or not.
There are others too, but mostly I can suss 'em out if I don't know right off how to say it. So there ya go, I fret over mispronouncing names. Weird, eh?
The headline reads "At Least 24 Iraqis Killed; 50 Bodies Found".
Uh, yeah. In my school 50 was more than 24.
It wasn't.
I remember looking at my watch and seeing it was nearing 9pm when we dashed for our cars through the rain. At this point, we'd been standing around under cover for at least a half hour.
The game resumed at 9:40pm after the storms rolled on out.
So those tickets we all bought aren't any good. I'm mildly annoyed at the length of the delay, because by then most everybody had to have left the stadium. Then again, I realize that minor league teams probably have a razor thin profit margin and will do most anything to avoid rainouts. Oh well, at least we got to see a good inning and a half of baseball.
Last year on May 11th, I posted this picture, showing a small flower bed in my front yard and describing what I was hoping would happen.
Here's the same bed this year, taken this morning (in the extended entry). You don't need a lot of space for a spectacular flower bed, especially if you go vertical with it.
We'll be at the stadium in front of (or near) the ticket windows between 5:30 and 6:00. I've emailed our cell phone number to those who expressed interest, so if you haven't heard from me, let me know in the comments.
I'm looking forward to meeting y'all.
main-frame ('mAn-frAm noun): An obsolete device still used by thousands of obsolete companies and government entities, serving billions of obsolete customers and obsolete constituents, making huge obsolete profits for obsolete shareholders, and this year's obsolete models run twice as fast as last year's.
If you type "36DD" into Google, you'll get page after page of porn sites.
If you type "36HH" into Google, you'll get page after page of online bra stores.
Official results later, after we locate some missing absentee ballots.
Also, I'd like to officially announce that there was almost zero participation by minorities in the voting process, but it was due to the fact that my street cred is right up there alongside Pat Boone, not that we disenfranchised an entire class of people for nefarious purposes.
In the meantime, enjoy the apparent winner, subject to change by recount or lawsuit.
I don't know and I don't care.
Nothing in particular, I just love the way that sounds when you say it loudly.
I'll be wearing a cap and holding a pennant.
This one *is* naughty enough to go into the extended entry, but I just couldn't pass up on the title.
(not even remotely safe for work)
It's art dammit. I'm not hiding it in the extended entry.
Dad, upon observing two dead-ass daughters laying around the living room: "It's Mother's Day, you should make mom breakfast in bed."
Girls:
Dad: "Do we have cinnamon rolls? Mom likes those."
Robyn: "Yeah, mom pointed those out yesterday."
Dad: "Probably because she wants them this morning."
Girls:
Dad: "Someone should go into the kitchen and make Mom some cinnamon rolls. He said pointedly, with a hint of suggestion in his voice."
Rachael: "Huh? Sorry dad, I was zoned out."
"Und here is vhere ve install ze automobile batteries."
I always get those two holidays mixed up.
She's about to be sentenced for her role in the Abu Gharib prison abuses. This might be the first time I've mentioned the whole mess, but I'll say this much now:
When she pled guilty, Lyndie England didn't flinch or try to deflect the blame. She said that she knew it was wrong, and caved to peer pressure to participate. Once again, she admitted that she knew it was wrong, yet she chose to do it anyway.
That's called personal responsibility, and it's far more than Sergeant "Military Intelligence ordered us to do it" Graner has shown.
I hope that her sentence is less harsh because of her admission. It was wrong, it was stupid, but still, my respect for her has gone up a notch.
One of my Christmas presents was Sims2, which nobody played because none of our computers at home had enough horsepower to run it. Since we got the laptop, it's become the Sims machine when not being used for anything else.
I've futzed around with it for a few hours over the last couple of weeks, and on Monday night I killed my first Sim. He was a whiney snot and I got tired of his attitude. The killing part wasn't fun and I was amazed that his bladder lasted longer than his little electron heart.
People all over are playing God in these virtual worlds, but to me it's like a horrible training program on how not to take care of someone. Like, oh... the elderly? It strikes me as singularly stupid that we've given youngsters the means to refine and perfect their cruelty when it comes time to deal with an aging Mom and Dad.
Maybe I've just been in a mood lately, but a home isn't looking like such a bad thing any more.
The latest meme I've seen around (Gir was first) is something about "How gay is your website". I submitted Rocket Jones and it came back with "50% gay - at least bisexual".
That surprised me, what with all the zombies and rockets stuff lately. My wife might be right. She says I'm overcompensating. Plans to redecorate the place have been scrapped, although I am thinking about building a deck off of the right sidebar. With a built in grill. And a beer cooler. With a tap.
Not that there's anything wrong with "bisexual" (he says in a deep manly voice while scratching himself). Especially if you're a woman.
Be glad it wasn't something really scary like Abba.
And what about Zombies? You never hear from Zombies! That's the trouble with Zombies, they're unreliable! I say if you're going to go for the Angel bullshit you might as well go for the Zombie package as well. -- George Carlin
New tagline over on the sidebar too.
They come a-running just as fast as they can.
Every girl's crazy for a sharp dressed man. -- ZZ Top
Mookie and her date (an interpretation by Dad):
They all kind of look like this to me. If you have daughters, then you understand.
I was puttering around the house last night, half-watching some documentary about teaching youngsters or something like that. This caught my ear:
Boys have a penis. Girls have a vagina.
Anatomy? Sex-ed? Either way, those kids were way too young for that.
Damn.
Yes, I'm aware it's from the movie Kindergarten Cop. That's the joke, get it? I pretend I didn't know that... oh never mind, you rotten joke spoiler person you.
Q: What do you call zombies in your whirlpool?
A: Stew.
Pictures later of Mookie in her dress (if she'll let me).
Just some thoughts.
I hate going to WalMart during the day, because all the senior citizens are there. Yesterday I watched a lady who probably shared a nice piece of fish with Christ himself on the mount as she tottered through the crosswalk. She was clutching her cart for dear life, and I'm positive it was the only thing holding her up. About a third of the way across (a two minute journey, I kid you not), she was almost flattened by another woman in a Cadillac who probably taught female gladiators to drive chariots in ancient Rome. That's entertainment. Like watching the Keystone Kops in slo-mo.
When I get old enough to drive a golf cart, I'm putting wheelie bars on the back.
Mookie's imagination has been fired by the speculative piece about Canada breaking up and parts joining the US, and now the Cambodian zombie story. She's been wandering through the house singing "Invade Canadaaaaaaah, with Zombies from Cambodiaaaaaah." She's such a special child.
It's looking like tomorrow is not going to be a go for the Culpeper rocket launch, due to a really lousy weather forecast. That's a personal decision, I'm sure there will be folks there and some flights will be made. I'm still on for Sunday though, which is supposed to be beautiful.
I may be putting a large "Sears sucks donkey dicks" banner up soon. Next week will tell the tale. Whatever happened to customer service?
Instead of sitting here, I should be cleaning something.
Driving through Norfolk yesterday:
Me: Look! The sign says they need a bartender. I could do that again.
(driving by and noticing that the place looks a little "rough")
Me: I dunno though, a black belt is probably part of the job qualifications.
Wife: A couple of tattoos and get something on your face pierced, you'd be fine.
Liz and I are visiting daughter Robyn down south in Norfolk tomorrow to pick up a load of her stuff. She's spending the summer at home, and she'd have to make a half dozen trips in her tiny little car to haul everything.
So we decided to make it a getaway and booked a room in Williamsburg for the night. Robyn has a final tomorrow afternoon, so we'll hit Williamsburg Pottery and have a nice relaxing morning before heading on in. We both needed this.
I have to admit that Liz knows how to get the best deals on rooms too. I'm posting this from the laptop, hooked up to the wireless network offered by the motel.
And now you'll have to excuse me, the hot tub is calling.
...let's see...
... feed people... ok, that's "solve world hunger", check...
... broadcast "don't worry be happy" from every satellite... world peace, check...
... that leaves... crap, a whole boatload of new Munuvians to add to my blogroll.
Soon, dammit, I can't do it *all* in one day!
I had no idea.
I'll dig up a patch of the back meadow after work so I can see the dirt underneath.
Life has been kicking my ass lately. Yeah, I know that's not news. It happens to everyone, but I offer it up as the lame excuse for the light posting on Rocket Jones, both in quantity and quality.
This morning my XHTML final is due. We were given a set of specs and a bunch of content and turned loose to whup it into a site. It's got image maps (those pretty pictures you click in different areas for links), input forms, lists inside lists, tons of text formatting and anything and everything else the instructor could think of to toss in there. Individually, nothing too difficult. Except that we're doing this all from scratch - no Front Page, no Movable Type or Blogger. Every last bit of code is by hand. Believe me, finish a test like this (10+ hours for me so far, mostly at home in the evenings), and you freakin' know XHTML.
Daniel, I haven't forgotten the meme you tossed to me. I just haven't had a chance to give it any thought. Although when I do come up with something, I'll be able to format it beautifully. Heh.
Ooooooooooooklahoma! - Mookie's school musical - opened last night. She said it went well. Liz and I are going tonight.
Everyone else in the family (wife, kids... not the dogs, so not everyone), has had some sort of drama or minor tragedy happen this week (I'm not trivializing the tragedy aspects, it's minor in that nobody died). I'm rather proud as I watch events unfold and see how everyone keeps their cool and just deals with the crap that life dishes up sometimes. Maintaining composure and doing the right thing doesn't mean you're unfeeling, it just means that you can save the tears or hurt or frustration for later, when it won't be so inconvenient to let it out.
So the weekend is upon us. Things to do are already piling up like cop cars in a Blues Brothers movie, and I'll just take things one at a time and do as many as I can until the critical ones are taken care of or I decide that enough is enough and it's time for a nap.
I'll try to do better, but no promises for the immediate future.
It was so warm inside my freezer that Ted Williams was complaining.
I talked about getting together at a minor league baseball game and got several responses from folks interested in meeting up. Most suggested a Saturday game to make getting around the metro area a bit simpler. Sounds like a plan to me.
So, the official word is: I and the family will be attending Potomac National's games on May 14th and June 25th for sure. They're both Saturday games with fireworks afterwards. We'll probably be seeing other games throughout the season too.
Leave comments or email me at Rocket Jones (one word) at gmail dot com.
Remember I wrote about "Bad Surprises"? Specifically, when our washing machine conked out and dumped an entire cycle of water onto the basement lake floor.
Oh, the joy continues.
Last night we discovered that when they delivered the new washer, the guys unplugged the freezer in the basement. We hadn't gone into the freezer since and only found it last night. We lost everything.
We called and raised hell. Sears is supposed to call back this morning. I faxed them an itemized list of all the food in the freezer.
Pissed off is an understatement right now. They have one chance to make it right. If they screw this up they'll have lost a lifelong customer.
Best of luck to him as he guides the Church through difficult times.
I don't know much about the subject, but the only reason Pujols wasn't picked to be the top Cardinal right away has to be because of his age. Either that, or that bastard Rolen is campaigning behind his back.
One of the things on our household "to do" list is to replace the dining room light. It's been on the list since the day we moved in fifteen years ago.
It's a nice enough looking light, all smoked glass and brass with those goofy bulbs that are shaped like candle flame, in fact it would be beautiful in a two-story home entryway or foyer where it could hang above everyone and cast it's gentle light upon the scene.
But in our dining room it's misplaced. It hangs too low. It's not centered in the room. It's not centered over the table. And on those occasions when the dining room table has been taken out (like for painting) I crack my skull on it repeatedly. I hate it for physical reasons. My wife hates it for ascetic. She just thinks it's ugly.
There are only two of the eight bulbs currently burning. I discovered a while back that my wife's plan was to let it die a slow lingering death, and when it finally goes dark it will be replaced by something newer, smaller, neater and easier to keep clean.
I joked that she's probably got the same plan for me. She didn't deny it.
Last time I'll mention this, I promise.
Right now I'm feeling like Rusty's bragging on me, "I am the *Extreme*, Baby. The. Extreme!"
The wireless network is up and running. Yesterday, amongst my other chores, I figured out MAC addressing (even better security) for the laptop, Mookie's PC (she went wireless because her wired connection went wonky) and even for Liz's iPaq!
Yes, I'm feeling rather pleased with myself. And I didn't sit in front of a monitor all day either. Yardwork got done, laundry is almost caught up and I cooked a pretty darned good roast chicken dinner (look for a new recipe in the next day or two). Met Mookie's new boyfriend too. He seems like a nice guy and the dogs like him, which says a lot. Sam has a nitwit detector that's so accurate that it's scary.
At the end of the day I was beat. I fell asleep halfway through Lon Chaney's Indestructable Man, but did see Phantom from 10,000 Leagues first. An excellent Saturday.
I'm sitting here in the master bedroom, as physically far away as is possible to get from our new wireless router switch and still be in the house, getting used to this new laptop keyboard. Signal strength is good, wireless security is about half implemented (I still have to set specific MAC addressing, 128 bit encryption is in place. Major thanks to Victor, Rich, Stephen, Shank, and GEBIV for steering me to the know-how to do this the right way).
The new router switch has wired ports too. Maybe they all do, but when I saw that I did the happy dance because everything that was connected stays connected.
The other day for Liz's birthday I asked her over lunch what she wanted as a gift, and she kind of freaked when I offered her a choice of laptop of DVD burner.
The laptop solves a couple of problems for the family. Liz's embroidery machine uses input files that she stored on her PC in the living room, which meant she had to run up and down the stairs when doing her sewing. Big pain in the butt, metaphorically and physically, especially when her fibro is flaring up. With this new magic beastie, it sits on the desk next to her sewing table and everything she needs is right at hand.
I've also installed the Sims2 on it. I got it for Christmas, and then we realized that we didn't own a PC with enough horsepower to actually run the darn thing. I piddled around playing God for an hour last night. It looks like it could be fun.
It's going to be a beautiful day, so I'll close for now. There's yardwork and rocket fins to cut and laundry to catch up on (still). If you see me outside you might notice something different about me, a certain extra coolness (if that's even possible), because I have a laptop.
Well, I do when my wife lets me use it.
Nowadays, being rich means you become a celebrity, as if that were a career.
John Jacob Astor, the great-grandson of the famous fur trader and financier of the same name, was one of the wealthiest men on earth, with assets somewhere around $100 million (compared to J.P. Morgan, who had amassed a fortune of only $30 million). Astor was an inventor (of a bicycle brake, a storage battery, an internal combustion engine, a flying machine, a machine for removing surface dirt from roads, and an improved marine turbine engine) and also founder of the Astoria (later the Waldorf Astoria) Hotel in New York City. His pneumatic walkway invention won a prize at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, and he was one of the first Americans to own a motor car. One of his dreams was to find a way to create rain by pumping warm air from the surface of the earth into the upper atmosphere. His fascination with science led him to begin writing his only novel, A Journey In Other Worlds when he was only 28 years old, and spent over two years writing it. He served in the Spanish-American War, and lost his life in the Titanic disaster, leading his wife to a lifeboat but returning himself to the sinking ship.
I'm almost through his book, and it's pretty fascinating. Besides the extrapolation of then-current science (most of which, understandably, is gotten badly wrong), the most interesting part is the difference in attitude and viewpoint compared to today. Piety vs Pragmatism runs as a theme throughout, and the main characters think and act as if the entire universe is already theirs in the ultimate extension of manifest destiny. Americans still possess that can-do spirit, although it's been softened somewhat over the last hundred years.
Astor’s novel, with descriptions of an antigravity device, aeroplanes, television and space travel was widely read and became a bestseller on publication in 1894. Set in the year 2000, the book is a futuristic novel of three utopias: a Christian heaven on Saturn; an Eden-like new world on Jupiter; and a technologically-oriented, businessman's paradise on Earth.
The writing isn't too terrible, and once in a while he really nails it.
"... they looked up at the sky. The Great Bear and the north star had exactly the same relation to each other as when seen from the earth, while the other constellations and the Milky Way looked identically as when they has so often gazed at them before, and some idea of the immensity of space was conveyed to them. Here was no change; though they had travelled three hundred and eighty million miles, there was no more perceptible difference than if they had not moved a foot."
For all we've accomplished, for all our collective greatness, we're still a humble speck in the grand scheme of things. It's good to be reminded of that once in a while.
Most of this came from here.
To the love of my life.
See ya tomorrow.
Ted
After watching The Incredibles this weekend (and as good as the movie is, the extras on the DVD are just wow), I've been tagged with my new super-hero name. Just call me Lobster Man, in honor of my sunburn.
Nine out of ten doctors surveyed believed that a daily visit to Rocket Jones was good for stress relief. Doctor Kevorkian suggested a radically different approach.
I heard a commercial where AIDs was described as a "life challenging" condition.
Terminal. The word is "terminal". You get AIDs, you're gonna die from it. Eventually it's going to kill you. Coming up with yet another polite phrase to sugar coat reality isn't doing anyone any favors, it just degrades the message being communicated.
Update: From the comments and email, I've been reminded that more people die "with" than "from" diseases these days. While I understand the point and even agree with it somewhat, I think that our medical arts have advanced enough to prolong life despite whatever the terminal disease is. I'd guess that more HIV positive people die from pneumonia than from the actual AIDs itself, but that doesn't mean the AIDs didn't kill them, just that another complication facilitated by the AIDs was the final step.
People who succumb to cancer don't get that kind of consideration. And in the end, does it really matter?
Still, maybe "terminal" isn't the correct term to use. My objection (badly put it seems) was to the politically correct term "life challenging". The attempt to not offend anyone is vague enough to encompass everything after conception (or birth, depending on your viewpoint). I commuted to work this morning in the fog and rain on an interstate highway, that also fits the definition of life challenging.
It's been so bad the last couple of days, that Spork posted on it too.
Here's a relavant quote from the Tagline Archives:
Imagine standing at a street corner and spitting on people to get their attention, then trying to sell them something. Spamming is a better marketing method than that only in that you get punched less often. -- Esa A. Peuha
So true.
I heard a commercial on the radio advertising half-off plastic surgery.
That's like "buy one tit, get the second tit free".
I heard on the radio that 5,000 people are attending Johnny Cochran's funeral. That's impressive.
Then I heard that an estimated one million people have stood in line to view Pope John Paul II's body in state.
MuNu and Rocket Jones got hammered last night by a flood of spam comments. What a pain.
Update: It's still going on.
Update 2: I finally remembered that I could block the IP. Doh! Oh well, mess cleaned up.
Around here, bus systems like to use the word "link" in their name. We've got OmniLink and MetroLink and who knows what else. Just south of here is the oldest continuously chartered town in Virginia, Dumfries.
What einstein thought Dumflink would be a good name for their bus service?
Tomorrow we dip into savings for a new washing machine. I ran a load this evening and when I went down to the basement to swap it into the dryer I found our entire bottom level a shallow puddle.
Judging from the black ooze that came out from under the washer and the fact that the agitator is frozen in place, I think the clutch or motor seized early on and the beastie just kept chugging through the wash/rinse/spin cycles, turning belts and bearings into so much sludge.
It took Mookie, Mom and I about a half hour to get the water up (thank goodness for heavy-duty carpet cleaners!) and reasonably dried out. Of course, our son managed to leave every blanket and sheet on his bed dangling onto the floor, save one. Oh frickin' well, looks like he'll be cold for a few nights. Maybe it'll teach him to pick his crap up like he's supposed to.
Probably what annoys me most is that it didn't start to smell like burning or make any odd sounds, so it had plenty of time to dump that entire cycle of water out onto the floor. Bah.
This morning on the way to work I heard that song Short Skirt, Long Jacket by the group Cake. It's been quite a while since I've heard it, and this time, what came to mind was that photo of Condoleeza Rice in her duster and knee boots.
If you've visited Rocket Jones more than a couple of times you've noticed that the banner at the top of the page changes every week or so. It's nothing automatic, I just switch it when I think of it.
I also add new banners every once in a while, and they all go into my queue and make their way back to the top in time. Derek said it best, "you can never have too many banners." He's an artist, so consider that expert testimony.
Here's your chance to be creative. Design a banner for Rocket Jones. Drawing, painting, photography, simple, complex, I don't care. Enter as many as you'd like. Even if all you can do is stick figures, as long as it's done with charm, it's fine with me.
Sometime in the near future I'll put 'em all up and we'll have a vote on the favorite and I'll come up with some sort of actual prize, but probably all of them will make it into the banner rotation.
Guidelines are simple:
Other than that, well, wow me.
I've displayed several of the current Rocket Jones banners in the extended entry to give you an idea about what's already been done. I'd love to see entries unlike anything ever seen on b-b-b-broadway!*
*Reference for the hardcore Zappa fan.
My first banner, courtesy of Carl the artist.
Santa, photoshopped heavily from a children's book cover.
Lost in Space.
French Doors.
A couple of months ago I had this killer idea for completely redesigning Rocket Jones for one day only - April Fools day. Apparently several others did too.
Fortunately, I got too busy to even make a start on it, so I don't look like some kind of predictable lemming.
Mookie came downstairs the other night while I was at my computer and said that my monitor was *really* blurry.
I hadn't noticed, but she's right. I think it's getting worse too.
Our local minor league baseball team is the Prince William Cannons recently renamed Potomac Nationals (Carolina League - A level). My wife and I are planning on attending several evening games this season.
Would anyone be interested in attending a game as a group? They have Saturday night games with fireworks afterwards, and I believe we can get discounts and/or set up a picnic for groups of 20 or more.
If this sounds like something you'd like to do, leave a comment and/or drop me an email. If you'd just like to hook up for a game some evening, that'd be cool too.
Potomac Nationals home page
Map showing directions to the ballpark
I know that I had a Hockey Whoopass Jamboree game yesterday, yet the AHL website comes up "not found". Guess I'll have to Google the results...
Ah yes, my Cleveland Barons whupped all over the Rochester Americans. This was the Barons' first win in seven tries this season against the Amercs.
Those crazy Buffalo Sabres are at it again, trying to save hockey by being all innovative. This time, they're proposing a rounded net that increases the target area by 13%.
It's odd looking, and I'm not sure what I think of it. I like the idea of making it harder for a goalie to completely shut down the angle by hugging the post. But still, to my mind, why not just make the goalie pads smaller?
An observation about that picture: the goalie is an employee of the Sabres organization and to me appears to be a rather smallish man. Modern goalies are big tall guys who absolutely fill the net, so that illustration looks to be a little overstated about the effect of the change.
The bread machine has been getting a workout lately. I made my first loaf of rye the other day and everyone agrees that it's good but a tad too subtle. The next loaf will have more rye flour in the mix. Not that it seemed to matter, there was only one slice left this morning, and we're not a big bread-eatin' family.
Last night the house smelled of cinammon as some raisin bread baked. A thick slab of that toasted and slathered with butter made for a fine breakfast.
Bread machines. Another easy way to appreciate the simple things that make you happy.
I've got a couple of new ones and some ideas I'm working on.
Seen on the back of a Vlasic pickle jar:
"There's always time for a dill moment"
First thought that popped into my head: "Yeah, just before becoming a Darwin Award nominee."
Or are y'all still burnt out from the last election?
I'm sorry, but there's no gentle way to put that. As soon as she dies then the real debate can start instead of this never ending circus horribilus.
Captain's Quarters is beginning to sound like the mirror image to Kos. It's depressing and boring.
Nobody wins, and until her body stops breathing, we can't even work towards making sure there is never a next time.
That's me. Remember that book thing making the rounds? The one where the very first question is:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Apparently I'm not the only one who didn't get it right away. Think about the story. Think about the people who hoard books. Remember that everyone in that group would memorize a single book?
Ahhhhhhh.
Top left corner of this page. The pink button. Click it on friday, the first of April and leave a comment. No fooling.
The Major Soccer League is renaming their teams to be more like the teams around the world. So instead of, for instance, the Dallas Burn, you'll have teams like FC Dallas, where the "FC" stands for "football club". Yeah, maybe in the rest of the world, but not in Dallas.
New to the league this year are Real Salt Lake City (pronounced Ray-al) and Chivas USA. Chivas is spanish for goats. Really.
I was never a fan of that odd trend for new niche sports teams to name themselves for something other than a noun - the "Rage", the "Freedom" and so on. It just seemed so trendy, like a loser trying desperately to be cool.
So the MLS gets away from that nonsense, but decides that they need to be less American and more like Europe. Like I needed another reason to ignore them.
So I get home Monday to an empty (of humans) house. Son got called in to work, wife was working late, Mookie has musical rehersals, and it's just me and two dogs who are very happy to see me.
They went out. They came in. We played and just generally acted like guys do when they have the run of the house. Lots of toys being thrown about and growling and rough-housing going on.
I had to use the bathroom, so as usual I shut the door behind me and as I stood there I wondered why I did that since I was home alone. When I opened the door, both dogs were sitting there in the hallway and looking at me like, "You are soooo whipped."
There's wisdom there if you know how to read it.
And believe me, there've been some doozys.
"But people would rather live under undemocratic rule than in the chaotic atmosphere of Iraq, for example, which the Americans tout as a model." -- Egyptian Diplomat
The definition of chaos being "more than one choice on the ballot", of course.
A lady at work recently had her entire kitchen renovated. Nic is in the early stages of going through the process as well.
I mentioned it to my wife.
Suddenly there is graph paper and my big measuring tape on the bar. A night out might mean dinner and then a leasurely stroll through the hardware store.
I'm not too worried about it, because we're certainly not rushing into things. We've lived in the house for 15 years, and before the first was over we'd replaced the appliances and a few years later I redid the wallpaper. Other than that - nada.
So we've had time to dream and consider and ponder and decide, and of course we disagree on several key points, but nothing important enough to turn into a major fuss.
I expect I'll be starting phase 1 here in the next month or so, which is removing the "bar" and cabinets between the kitchen and dining room and replacing them with a new set of cabinets along another wall.
Step at a time, and it's not so hideously expensive that way as long as you don't do something stupid like total up the receipts.
Barbies in bondage.
Popup photos not safe for work (or maybe they are, they're just dolls after all).
I especially like the cowgirl outfit.
Trussed up like a li'l heifer in 6.2 seconds.
I always wondered about that four-poster bed.
Barbies "Paris" moment: "Where did that video camera come from?"
Friday afternoon I was given a new assignment. Looking at the task, I realized that it would be very handy to have a copy of a certain manual, so I jumped on over to Amazon. In ten minutes I'd ordered the reference I needed.
It was delivered this afternoon.
We had all the kids home for the weekend, and made a huge family dinner. The rabbit was delicious.
What?
As Douglas Adams said, it's all about nailing a guy to a tree for the crime of saying that we should be nice to each other.
So I'm guilty of mocking the commercialized version of the holiday. When the Cadbury Police knock on the door, I'll go quietly.
I'm really really really beat. So tired that I have a splitting headache.
(the reason why I'm so tired is in the extended entry, so's you don't have to read it unless you want to)
Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, in a good way. But on top of that my son has been taking a training class for a new job he starts this week. Problem is, his class started in the afternoon and ran until late at night. Late enough that the busses quit running before he got all the way home. The solution (for last week only) was to get up at midnight and drive 15 miles north of here to pick him up at the stop he could get to before the system shut down for the night. So I was getting up at 4am, leave for work at 5am, work until 3pm (and traffic has been heavy all week), then try to sleep until midnight and maybe a couple hours after getting back. Of course, today was the last day of class, and it was a different schedule, so after picking him up last night we were on the road again at 6:30 this morning to drop him off, and back again at 4pm to pick him up.
I'm too old for this crap.
I just didn't know there was a reason for it.
(click for huge kinky size, just once only please)
Mom (to me): We saw a movie we thought you might like.
Daughter: At WalMart, in the discount bin. Some babe in a fur bikini.
Mom: One Million B.C. starring Rachel Welch. Would you want that?
Me: Oh yeah!
Daughter (to mom): Told you.
The first batch of tamales is done.
Wow. These are good.
The other batch is in the steamer. It's a more traditional version. Update in an hour.
Update: The second batch is mucho tasty, but the one I tried fell apart. I'll have to try another one tomorrow after they 'set' to see if the sauce was too 'saucy'. I've had three now, and I'm too full to try another tonight.
Apparently I make big-assed tamales, because I doubled the Masa recipe called for and didn't get anywhere near double the number.
Success!
Her husband says his wife told him she would not want to be kept alive artificially.
Her parents dispute that, without giving a single supporting shred of evidence.
The parents hope she might get better.
The parents and everyone else involved went doctor shopping until finding specialists who supported their position.
The judge who ruled on the case had weeks and months of testimony and all the facts of the case before making his ruling.
Congress and other judges waited until the last second to get involved. When Jeb Bush tried to step in long ago, he was slapped down pretty convincingly.
The blogosphere has rallied to her cause, and the total effect has been zilch. Zip. Nada. A good reminder of just how important we are in the universe.
The woman was stripped of her dignity long ago.
This isn't even about her any more.
I'm disgusted.
Wife Liz had a rough day yesterday at work, so when she got home I sent her upstairs for a long hot bubblebath to unwind. When she was done, I'd fixed some dinner and we sat upstairs on the bed and ate and talked and watched a little TV. I fell asleep before 6:30pm and slept straight through until Liz's alarm went off this morning at 6am.
I could get used to that, if I weren't completely guilt-ridden over that fact that I wasted a friday night. Just not enough hours in a day, days in a week, life's too short and all that. I think I could happily amuse myself if I were immortal.
Rocket Jones has moved past the 100k visit mark this week, according to Site Meter.*
To each and every one of you, my sincere thanks.
I don't fret much over stats like that, but it gives me yet another chance to parade around in front of y'all, hollering "Look at me! Look at me!"
That is a good thing. My therapist says so.
*That number doesn't include the counts from the original Blogspot home of Rocket Jones, nor does it account for the fact that I didn't bother to put Site Meter on all my pages until last fall. So in reality, this happened some unknown time ago. Like I said, I don't fret over stats.
Survived work week*. Check.
Changed color on the blog calendar thingie with this post. Check.
That is all.
* I don't count a day once it's started. So just by getting to work this morning, I can consider it completed, even though it's still in-progress. I've always done that, and I don't know why.
This week is whipping my butt. I've mentioned that my job runs in cycles. Busy week followed by insanely busy week. Repeat. Well, this is supposed to be my merely busy week, and I'm looking forward to insanely busy next week, because it'll be a bit of a slack for me. Whew!
Good thing I love what I'm doing. That makes all the difference in the world.
Got home this afternoon and helped clean the house. Oldest daughter came home for a doctor's appointment, and then took Mookie back to ODU with her for a few days.
After dinner I started cooking. The weather forcast is calling for rain Saturday, so I'm committed to making tamales. Tonight I made a variation of my salsa verde for one type (maybe two, haven't decided), and a red sauce for the other kind I've got in mind. Look for recipes this weekend or early next week. The house smells like roasted chilies, at least for a little while yet.
I also got the bread pudding made and in the oven. So soon it'll be cinnamon and nutmeg in the air.
On a totally unrelated note, we've been listening to a satellite radio station (comes with the dish) called Buzz Saw. Classic hard rock is what they call it, and it's heavy on Zepplin, ZZ Top and AC/DC. I've also heard Nazareth, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Sabbath and various others. Pretty good, and a nice change.
Big whoop. I don't drink, I don't leave ladies to drown in my car, and I don't stab bar patrons to death. I'm not wearing green, and I'm half tempted to celebrate tonight by cracking open a cold Corona.
If I cared.
I pulled out the bread machine a couple of weeks ago, because hey, we own the stupid thing, we might as well use it. And I have been.
Yesterday evening I made a loaf of white bread, thinking that I'd make some bread pudding. Problem was, when I got home this afternoon, the house apes had gotten into it and half the loaf was gone.
Now how can I get mad at that? So I whomped up another - bigger - loaf this evening, this time honey wheat. Before it had cooled I'd sliced it up and tore a heap of it into chunks for tomorrows bread pudding. A good half dozen slices are left over, and I'm thinking peanut butter and orange marmalade for lunch tomorrow.
Good thing I get up earlier than the kids, or there probably wouldn't be any left.
Q: How do you make Holy Water?
A: Boil the Hell out of it.
You're welcome, my child.
The AHL affiliate of the Buffalo Sabres hockey team is experimenting with a new ice surface.
The Sabres offered to try it and, after some experimentation, settled on painting the sheet in what they call "electric powder blue." To offset the new colored surface, arena officials decided to make the blue lines fluorescent orange, which is also the color used for the faceoff circles.The center line, normally red, is now dark blue.
I like it. A lot. From the few pictures I've seen I already like it. One of my biggest gripes about televised hockey is that the glare in some arenas makes it darn near impossible to follow the action, and you can give yourself a headache, like staring into the sun.
The Cleveland Barons will be Rochester's first opponents on the new ice on Sunday.
Ever seen the TV show where the main character wakes up, staggers into their workday, and the whole episode is one little drama and adventure and serendipitious event after another? And at the end of the day the character collapses into bed with a huge "oh shit, I have to do this again tomorrow". End of episode.
Today I had one of those days.
About 10 years ago the "new" Russian embassy was built in Washington DC. The back of the property backs up to a residential neighborhood and as the story goes video survellience wasn't allowed or was severely restricted.
Some wag spray-painted "Wolverines!" on the rear entrance gate of the embassy compound.
Peter Forsberg suffered a concussion after being cross-checked into the boards during a game in the Swedish League a couple of nights ago.
It was Forsberg's first game back after missing six weeks with a broken hand. His father coaches the team, MoDo, and says this:
"He's had his share of concussions, I think it is enough now (to cause him to retire)"
The player who made the illegal hit was ejected from the game and has been suspended for the next two.
I'm that good kind of tired that comes from getting a lot accomplished during your day.
This morning I met a buddy for breakfast in a little diner down the interstate a ways. We caught up on what's going on with each other and then I headed home. The plan was to attend today's club rocket launch, but I never made it. Shame too, because it was a beautiful day.
Got home and decided to take care of a quick repair job on my truck. Twenty minutes later and a smidgen of epoxy and it looked that it was going to be good as new. Then my neighbor dropped by and asked about taking down that maple tree in my backyard. Well, of course I'm not going to head off for the day while he's doing me a favor, so we got going on that.
Something we saw right off was that the maple was bigger than either of us had realized. At the end of the day, we'd taken down every branch reachable with a fully extended 32' ladder, and there's a lot of tree left above that. We even managed to do it without dropping anything on a fence.
There's a nice pile of twiggy branches out in the common area that my son and I will be taking care of over the next week, and a fair pile of fresh cut maple logs to stack. They'll make nice fireplace and firepit fuel. We really opened up the yard with today's work (pictures to come), but the monster trunk and root system is still in the way.
We're tossing around the idea of taking down my back fence and using some tension ropes and come-alongs to just drop the rest in one swell foop. A couple of hours to set things up just right and fifteen minutes to actually bring the beast to earth. I'm also thinking about getting a tree company out here for an estimate, since we've done everything we can do safely and reasonably easy. The problem with that is that it wouldn't surprise me to get an estimate for a thousand dollars, and there's a lot of other home improvements I could do with that kind of money. Then again, I might just leave it for awhile and see how it's going to be. I'm not in any hurry now that the yard will get some reasonable sunlight.
Can you tell my mind is going a mile a minute? It's been a good day.
Standard for me:
Right front: pocket watch, loose change (if any)
Left front: keys
Right rear: wallet and comb
Left rear: handkerchief and Swiss Army knife
How about you?
His music career sputtered along until he was mentioned in a Garth Brooks song.
Chris LeDoux, a former world champion bareback rider who parlayed songs about the rodeo life into a successful country music career, died Wednesday from complications of liver cancer. He was 56.
He had a lot of great songs, but my absolute favorite was called Five Dollar Fine:
Five Dollar FineWe're a fun lovin' crowd, kinda rowdy and loud
Our jukebox won't play no sad songs
So don't come in here, and cry in your beer
'Cause we don't care 'bout who done who wrongChorus:
We've got a five dollar fine for whining
We'll tell you before you come in
If it ain't on your mind to have a good time
Ya'll come back and see us againWell we don't really care about your clothes or your hair
This party is open to all
Yeah we like a good joke, and it's alright to smoke
We got just one rule on the wallRepeat Chorus
Now there's too many fools makin too many rules
That's one thing you can't say about us
Cause we all get along when we sing the same song
There's just one thing that causes a fussRepeat Chorus
Adios amigo, you were never appreciated enough.
I try to stay fairly professional in the workplace, especially the more formal setting I'm in now. I'm also careful about my language around folks I don't know, because it's the polite thing to do. Lately I've noticed that my co-workers have used a few curse words in my presence. The comfort level must be going up.
They probably got a clue the other day when I was shouting at my computer, swearing up a blue streak, in German.
In my HTML class we're going over images, and the instructor told us that the "alt" attribute on the "image" tag was so that special browsers used by the visually impaired could read a description of what the image was since they couldn't actually see it. This falls under Section 508 of the Rehabilitation Act:
Section 508 requires that Federal agencies' electronic and information technology is accessible to people with disabilities. The Center for Information Technology Accommodation (CITA), in the U.S. General Services Administration's Office of Governmentwide Policy, has been charged with the task of educating Federal employees and building the infrastructure necessary to support Section 508 implementation.
So once again Rocket Jones is on the cutting edge of social issues by posting things like Porn for the Blind.
Other than that though, I'll probably just continue to use the "alt" attribute to attach sly little jokes to the images on this site. Having a conscience doesn't mean I have to be fanatical about it.
Look for a couple of Rocket Jones original recipes coming soon.
There's a case to made for travelling light, toting nothing more than your bindle with the wind at your back. But for some of us, bringing along the essentials means at least one extra piece of luggage.
(in the extended entry)
Damn straight it's Samsonite. It's protecting precious cargo.
...and blowing straight sideways through Virginia on it's way to West Virginia.
A pair of cross-country skis and a sail and I'd be home in 15 minutes.
This morning on the commute to work, we had that perfect set of conditions where the darkness and headlights and misty rain and rolling tires combines to make each vehicle look like it was trailing smoke.
Glancing to my right to make sure my wingman was covering, I eased in behind the Fokker. Apparently oblivious to my presence, the range closed until I could practically knock the bloody hun out by throwing rocks. Instead, he got a long burst from my Lewis gun. I saw the pilot slump as his plane sideslipped down and away.
The lumbering Heinkel was easy pickings. Either the tail-gunner had been killed by a lucky long-range shot, or his gun was jammed, because there was no defensive fire coming from his rear arc. I had to throttle my Spitfire way back to avoid overtaking him, and when lined up perfectly I let loose with everything I had. I was close enough to see large pieces of his plane break free under the withering fire, and within seconds the starboard engine was trailing smoke. He veered away in a shallow dive, heading back across the Channel to his base in France. One less kraut making his delivery to the shipyards at Liverpool.
What a farrago! Everywhere you looked the sky was full of planes, twisting and turning, occasionally trailing a dark plume as he made his final dive. I saw a chute open below me, and noted that the pilot would come down to the south of the Yalu. A MIG flashed by in front of me and I snapped off a burst. He was gone too quickly to assess, but I had other problems, as another Red was trying to turn inside me to get on my tail.
I have no idea where he came from, he was just suddenly there in my sights. Before I even had target locks I was squeezing the trigger, and we were joined by twin beams of light. I saw a plume of flash frozen atmosphere erupt from behind the crew compartment, and they suddenly decelerated. As I rolled past them in a defensive vector, I wondered whether that crew had been suited up when the hull was breached.
Some mornings you don't even have to turn on the radio.
This just in. Japanese pinup star Yuki Aoyama has just been informed of my previous announcement, and we had a photographer on hand to capture her reaction.
She looks pleased.
(click photo for superbig most-happiness size - safe for work)
Sensible:
One secret of good managers is to keep the people who hate you away from those who are undecided.
The first thing I thought of was pirate captains.
This morning I let oldest daughter sleep in a little bit before having her follow me over to the tire store. Despite getting there an hour after they opened on a Saturday morning, the wait wasn't too awful.
Talking to the guy at the counter, I told him I wanted the cheapest steel-belted radial possible in that size. I'm planning on trading in the truck this spring, and can't see spending lots on a new tire right now. Besides, there's good tires already on the beast.
The guy tried to talk me out of buying a tire. The only one they had in stock is a really crappy tire (from a good name). Lots of problems with it, blowouts and sidewall failures, and they won't sell them anymore once the current inventory is gone. Wasn't a very good price either.
But it was convenient and I didn't feel like making this an all-day event to save a few bucks, so I told him to check the flat. If it could be repaired, then do that, otherwise I'd take the new tire. We told them we'd be back in a half hour to see what was up and walked next door to the grocery store.
I bought another brisket. On the way back, oldest daughter asked why she was carrying this gigantic slab of meat, so I started in with the double-entendre jokes about my enormous meat. My meat is so big it needs it's own seat in the car, and other juvenile comments. I also called my wife at work and sang Leo Sayer's "You Make Me Feel Like Dancing" to her - loudly - in the parking lot. Oldest daughter finally tired of the public humiliation and drove back home, with instructions that my enormous meat was so valuable that she was to immediately put it in the freezer.
The tire guys showed me where I'd picked up a screw that caused the slow leak. Easy repair, for about 1/8th the cost of the new tire.
So if I'm singing the blues, it's 'cause I wanna.
Mookie has been expressing an interest in classical music, so when mom and I saw a multiple CD collection arranged by composer, we had to get it. Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and Chopin (I explained that it was pronounced "show-pan", Vivaldi, a couple of the Russians (that I won't bother misspelling here), and even one of Gershwin.
She's been working her way through the set, and I had to smile when she said her biggest problem was knowing where she left off, because right now it all sounds pretty much the same to her. She'll figure it out, and she seems to be giving it a real chance, which makes me happy.
In related news, I became so disgusted with our local "classic rock" station that I took them off the main buttons in the truck and replaced them with classical. It's been a nice change.
What did the classic rockers do? Besides the most annoying collection of DJ's I've ever had to spend time with, they've decided that the Beatles and Rolling Stones are responsible for 30% of all classic rock worth listening to. That gets old fast.
Adios Ringo and Mick. Hellooooo Wolfgang.
Apparently my "medical announcement" brought some unexpected responses. Oldest daughter has a web site that I didn't know about (and I've been asked not to search for, since it's a rant and vent place), and she linked to that particular post. Later, she got a phone call from her roommate from last year - different college, different state - that was directly about my announcement. I'm sure much "ewww"ing was involved. *smirk*
All I can say to the roomie is, young lady, that the one time I met you, you were drunk, passed out and about half-dressed. *bigger smirk*
I work early hours so as to avoid traffic. I'm in the office before 6am and scoot out at 3 in the afternoon. Usually it works pretty well. Today though, as I walked up to my truck, I saw the right front tire was mostly flat.
I've had this truck for almost 5 years now, and never have I had any problems with it. Not even a flat tire. But what the heck, that's a simple thing to take care of, so I took off my tie (yep, all dressed up), and got ready to get it done.
Everything went fine until I'd gotten the flat tire off and went to put the spare on. Problem was, the jack was fully extended and it wasn't up high enough for the wheel to fit back over the lugs. Couldn't fit the flat back on there either, because it wasn't a complete flat so it had regained it's shape without the weight of the truck on it. I think the jack is broken and won't extend as far as it should.
As I was standing there laughing (my car insurance coverage includes this kind of situation, but on a Friday afternoon it'd take forever. I was resigned to it now.), a coworker walked by and suggested one of the guys in the office who drives in (most everyone - except me - takes mass transit to work). There ya go, I borrow his jack, get the tire on, and I'm outta dodge.
Done, done and done. With very little additional complication, I pulled out of there an hour late and right into the teeth of weekend getaway traffic. My normal 35 minutes drive took an hour forty-five, thanks to a couple of accidents way south of where my exit was.
And I'm still in a good mood. We had dinner, and then Liz and I went to the grocery store together to get the hell away for a little while. We haven't done shopping together in ages, so that was nice.
Tomorrow morning I'll take the tire to the service station and see if it can be fixed. If not, I'll get a new tire. Ho hum. Not a problem. No sweat. No biggie.
It's not gonna spoil my weekend either.
I have no problem getting an erection.
Hey, it's important to me.
Last night I told my wife that I was thinking about taking down the big maple in the backyard. She surprised me with a hearty "go for it", then she mentioned that it was going to be expensive.
Heck, we are men with chainsaws. What is this "expensive" nonsense?
I took a closer look at the job, and it's not an unreasonable do-it-yourselfer, but it will take some care and planning. And my neighbor has to help. I'm pretty sure he will, because it involves chainsaws, and he's that kind of guy.
I'll talk to him, and might get started with the pole saw and rope saw on lower branches. Taking out the stump and roots is going to be a back-breaking couple of weeks of evenings, but it's cost free if I do it myself, and that's what the backyard is all about. It's my garden/landscaping playground where I test ideas and learn new skills like masonry and rock wall construction and now, maybe, tree removal.
Liz is already thinking small Japanese maple or dogwood to replace the monstrosity.
Another "snowstorm", another bust for the local weathermen. I'll give them this, with all the major rivers, the coast to the east and mountains to the west, this area is a real Meteorological crapshoot to predict. Still, just claiming "sunny" every day would result in about the same accuracy rating in the winter.
But this morning the roads are an icy mess in our corner of the world, so I called in and took the day off. My job is cyclical, so this week I could do that, next or last week I wouldn't have had the option. My wife works for a medical facility, so she doesn't have that choice either. I made sure the sidewalks were de-iced and scraped the snow and ice from her car and walked the neighborhood a little bit to check the roads. She made it ok, but it was icy dicey until she got to the main drag.
Mookie is on day six of her weather-enforced pre-Spring break. She spent yesterday online looking at college information and found a place similar to Monster for theatrical jobs and internships.
For every star on Broadway, there's a thousand hardworking people behind the scenes who make them look good.
I looked outside a bit ago and it was snowing again. Huge fluffy, slow-falling flakes. Absolutely beautiful, but it was spoiled a bit by the cars parked everywhere you look. There's a reason Currier and Ives always pictured the Vermont countryside instead of Virginia townhouse suburbs.
But I'm tired of winter. I have a new gardening book, yet another "small space gardening" reference, and a renewed desire to turn my backyard into a peaceful green retreat instead of the dirt covered expanse of dense shade that it is. I did almost nothing last year out back, needing to take a break from my continual attempts to make it something beyond a handy place for the dogs to take a dump.
Part of me says that this is the year to finally take down the maple tree that dominates the back half of the yard. It won't completely open up the space to sunlight, because the neighbors on both sides have huge trees in their yards as well. But my maple drops those accursed monkey balls year round, and much of it's root system is at ground level, meaning I had to build a makeshift retaining wall around it's perimeter in order to hold enough soil for a few scraggly hostas and succulents. I'm tired of the tree and it's awkward location, and the entire space would be open to infinite change if it were gone.
Something to consider, I'll have to talk to my wife about it.
So that's my day in a nutshell. Pondering garden projects and happily sweating under the April sun. Planning and anticipating the renewal of spring.
And laundry.
Not sure what happened, but I've been unable to get logged on (or anywhere near logging on) all morning.
I did find a new trackback spam. But you won't. *evil grin*
Later.
It must be oldies week here at Rocket Jones, only I didn't get the memo. I've suddenly gotten a flurry of comments and email about that series of posts where we built a Box Hockey game. I've also discovered that somehow, somewhere, the last part of the series has gone missing. I can't find it in the archives, so I'll recreate it and post it here in the next day or so.
Build your own box hockey game part 1
Build your own box hockey game part 2
Build your own box hockey game part 3
Final part coming soon!
Also, this is a variation of box hockey that a lot of folks remember playing as kids. It's not what my plans are for, but it looks fun too.
Your kid doesn't have school because of yesterday's snowstorm? Wake the ankle-biter little angel up and have him (or her in my case) clean the snow off your car while you get ready for your day.
You'll feel better about having to go to work. I did.
I just saw a commercial on TV for a cordless soldering iron that supposedly cools in seconds. They showed this guy attaching a wire to a doorbell on his porch, then slipping the iron into his shirt pocket, while the voiceover says:
Now that's smart!
No, it's not.
Last night in the Borders bookstore, I noticed that the erotica section is in the same aisle as the self-help books.
Like Robert the Llama Butcher, I'm less than impressed with "storms" around here, especially after having spent five winters in North Dakota (that's how you tell time up there, not by years but by winters).
That doesn't mean I hop into my truck and hit the roads when it gets weathery out, because there are enough nitwits out there already, thank you. But it does mean that I'm at work, because things need doing, and just because it's gonna be a mess later doesn't mean it's a mess now.
Just in case though, there's a blanket and pillow stashed in the truck, and I brought a good book to read if I'm stuck here for awhile. I learned a thing or two over five winters in North Dakota.
Back in April I put up a little quickie post about stripper music and the comments keep trickling in. Never one to leave off beating a dead horse, here's what we've got so far:
Feel Like Making Love - Bad Company
South City Midnight Lady - Doobie Brothers
Dreadlock Holiday - 10cc
Sharp Dressed Man -ZZTop
Come Together -The Beatles
Feel Like a Woman -Shania Twain
Welcome to Jungle - Guns N' Roses
Cut the Cake - Average White Band
Love to Love You Baby -Donna Summer
Crazy On You - Heart
Closer - Nine Inch Nails (this one was mentioned several times)
Indus - Dead Can Dance
Frankenstein - Edgar Winter Group
Rocket Queen - Guns N' Roses
Oh Bondage, Up Yours! - X-Ray Spex
The Roars Of The Masses Could Be Farts - the Minutemen.
These next few are jokes. I hope. I don't know if my universe is big enough to contain a place where these might be used:
Polka Your Brains Out - Weird Al
The William Tell Overture
Amazing Grace (with real pipes)
Don't Worry, Be Happy - Bobby Ferrin
Back to seriousness:
Sex Shooter - Apollonia 6
Nasty Girl - Vanity 6
Peach - the Neptunes
Smoking in the Boys Room - Motley Crue (I didn't know they did a cover of this, I remember the original by Brownsville Station)
Hot for Teacher - Van Halen
Cream - Prince
I Touch Myself - the Divinyls
What Kind of Love Are You On - Aerosmith
Cherry Pie - Warrant
Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard
Lick- from the movie XXX soundtrack
Sex On Wheels (remix) - Thrill Kill Cult
Erotic City - Prince
Toxic - Britney Spears
I'm Gonna Crawl - Led Zepplin (except for the intro)
Porcelain - Moby
Y'all Wanna A Single - Korn
"i like dancing to mairlyn manson songs the best"
Possum Kingdom - The Toadies
Engel - Rammstein
Stripped - Rammstein
Fire - Ohio Players (this suggestion gets a hearty "Hell Yeah" from me!)
You Shook Me All Night Long - AC/DC
Emotions in Motion - Billy Squier
Dr Feelgood - Motley Crue
Slow Ride - Foghat
The Battle of Evermore - Led Zeppelin
Britney Spears - Breathe On Me
Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
Come Together - Aerosmith (cover)
Darling Nikki - Prince
Lap Dance - Nerd
I've stripped out most of the commentary (no pun intended), which alone is worth a quick read. We've heard from guys and ladies, both spectators and dancers, and this is nice mix of music, suitable for all occasions. Assuming of course, that having a pole dancing lovely as the entertainment is suitable for the occasion. As far as I'm concerned, they always are.
So I'll ask again, what music have you seen that really worked? What music would you like to see used?
Even better, script a five song "set" and post it in the comments.
How's that phrase go? What happens in ... stays in....
(in the extended entry - safe for work)
Foggy Mountain Breakdown by Earl Scruggs (and friends), from the self-titled album.
Toe tapping perfection.
(in the extended entry - kinda safe for work)
I googled "Rocket Girl", and the results were better than expected, a nice mix of retro and new (in the extended entry). So what comes up when you google a variation of your site name?
He coined the phrase "Gonzo Journalism", showed no mercy to himself or others in his chronicles, and like everything else he's done with life, he's ended it on his own terms.
*yawn*
Like a troll, if you'd leave her the hell alone, she'd go away.
What, I have to post something every day? Oh, fer crying out loud....
The Carnival of the Recipes is coming to Rocket Jones next week. Please post your favorite recipes and let me know so I can link to it. Or, go ahead and email your recipe or link to:
recipe *dot* carnival *at* gmail *dot* com
That address is good for every Carnival, by the way. So c'mon and gimme your recipes, or I may be forced to come up with another creation like Mock Octopus Chowder.
When I got home from work today (left at lunch to get a jump on the 3 day weekend), there was some animated show on the TV. Two mice are looking for the meaning of Christmas.
I hit the mute button, but it's still playing behind me. I have no idea what the program is, nor why it's playing in February. Very odd.
From Random Nuclear Strikes (who trace the linkage much deeper):
Did you know that 47 countries have re-established their embassies in Iraq?Did you know that the Iraqi government employs 1.2 million Iraqi people?
Did you know that 3100 schools have been renovated, 364 schools are under rehabilitation, 263 schools are now under construction and 38 new schools have been built in Iraq?
Did you know that Iraq¹s higher educational structure consists of 20 Universities, 46 Institutes or colleges and 4 research centers?
Did you know that 25 Iraq students departed for the United States in January 2004 for the re-established Fulbright program?
Did you know that the Iraqi Navy is operational? They have 5-100ft patrol craft, 34 smaller vessels and a navel infantry regiment.
Did you know that Iraq¹s Air Force consists of three operation squadrons, 9 reconnaissance and 3 US C-130 transport aircraft which operate day and night, and will soon add 16 UH-1 helicopters and 4 bell jet rangers?
Did you know that Iraq has a counter-terrorist unit and a Commando Battalion?
Did you know that the Iraqi Police Service has over 55,000 fully trained and equipped police officers?
Did you know that there are 5 Police Academies in Iraq that produce over 3500 new officers each 8 weeks?
Did you know there are more than 1100 building projects going on in Iraq? They include 364 schools, 67 public clinics, 15 hospitals, 83 railroad stations, 22 oil facilities, 93 water facilities and 69 electrical facilities.
Did you know that 96% of Iraqi children under the age of 5 have received the first 2 series of polio vaccinations?
Did you know that 4.3 million Iraqi children were enrolled in primary school by mid October?
Did you know that there are 1,192,000 cell phone subscribers in Iraq and phone use has gone up 158%?
Did you know that Iraq has an independent media that consist of 75 radio stations, 180 newspapers and 10 television stations?
Did you know that the Baghdad Stock Exchange opened in June of 2004?
Did you know that 2 candidates in the Iraqi presidential election had a recent televised debate recently?
If you answered yes to any of the above, what news organization did you hear it from?
Here endeth the Nog Watch.
For those of you who may have an emotional investment, take solace by the fact that our Nog was truly the Methuselah of nogdom.
There has been a small, private closed-container ceremony.
My wife noticed I had a stray hair on my head sticking straight out like an antenna, so I was forced to admit that when I was younger I'd been bitten by a radioactive spider. Unfortunately, it wasn't all that radioactive, so instead of being able to shoot webs from my hands, I just get really sweaty palms.
She said it was too bad I didn't get that "eat your mate" habit too.
Today they will finally take this miserable corpse of a hockey season off of life support.
From Rocket Jones - this will stay up top all day, scroll down for fresh nonsense.
Spank you, spank you very much (sorry, couldn't resist).
Have a wonderful day, because we all deserve it!
My wife has to work late tonight, which really sucks. But being the shallow type of guy I am, she made sure to ease the sting with gifts. Lots of Valentine gifts.
A couple of weeks ago a box from Amazon showed up at the house and inside was a 12-DVD set called "50 Horror Classics". That was my Valentine's Day gift, and I looked upon it, and it was good.*
Then, last night she presented me with a card, some candy and a copy of The Beast! I talked about the movie here (it's not a horror movie, it's a war movie), and after almost a year of looking in the bargain bins at WalMart for this title, she found it for me**.
I'm a lucky guy, and believe me, I know it.
* I already had about half of these movies in my library, but this collection will allow me to sell off or trade in several DVD's, and with whatever money that brings I plan to pick up this for starters.
** Highly recommended, and for less than $6.00, you can't go wrong.
We're almost done with our romantic look at classic Hollywood moments, ala Rocket Jones.
Now, certain actors possess an undefinable presence. That unmistakable command of any situation, whether it's dealing with love, life or the bad guys. Even something as simple as giving a little fatherly mentoring was done with style and assurance.
The Duke definitely had presence.
(in the extended entry)
The teen years are all about fun, right?
Depends on which end of the paddle you're on.
(in the extended entry)
There is just so much going on in this picture. Two of the guys look way too excited about what's about to happen, while the lad on the left seems more interested in Mr. Spanker than the girls.
Ms. Spankee doesn't seem too awful upset about her situation, although I'm sure she put up enough resistance to maintain her reputation. The other girls range from quiet observer (what if it were me?), to outright glee (the bitch is finally gonna get hers!).
This is the life. Only in Hollywood.
As an added bonus, this one is just the right size for an 800x600 wallpaper. If you're into that sort of thing, I mean.
Oldest daughter is taking French as part of her studies in International Business. I told her that when she's taking a test and doesn't know the answer, just write "I surrender".
It's 30 degrees outside, the wind is howling, and these four poor shmoes are lashed up to the side of the building across the street, washing windows.
There's nothing like a tender glance to let her know that this is going to be as much fun for you as it will be for her.
(in the extended entry)
It's especially important if she has the ability to turn you into a toad.
California Yankee (again!) posts links to an article about our unmanned Predator aircraft that fly in support of our troops, specifically, some video clips taken by on-board cameras:
Some of the footage was a clip of Marines under sniper assault during an August battle in Najaf. A Predator responds to a call for air support and fires Hellfire missiles at the building housing the sniper. The building crumbles in an explosion.
Unmanned isn't uncontrolled. Predators are in the skies of Iraq 24/7, remote controlled by their pilots from Nellis Air Force Base, 7000 miles away in Nevada.
I come from the land of Lorena Bobbitt, but compared to this lady, Lorena was a dream date!
A British woman was sentenced to two and a half years in jail Thursday for ripping off her ex-lover's testicle with her bare hands during a drunken brawl after he refused her sex.Amanda Monti, 24, flew into a rage in May last year after Geoffrey Jones, 37, who had ended their long-term relationship, rejected her advances.
She grabbed him by the genitals, tearing off his left testicle, then hid it in her mouth before a friend of Jones handed it back to him saying "that's yours."
Monti, of Birkenhead, near Liverpool, pleaded guilty to unlawful wounding at an earlier hearing.
There's just too much there to comment on, I wouldn't know where to begin.
hid it in her mouth?
"that's yours?"
Lay's has a new flavor of potato chip out - Dill Pickle. They taste exactly like those chips at a picnic that get soggy from the pickle juice running around on your plate. Yum!!! Only problem is, I hope like hell we got a defective bag, because they're so salty you can only eat about 3 chips at a time.
The most innocent beginnings can blossom into a romantic moment.
(in the extended entry)
Do you think that if the Fuller Brush Company had adopted this as an official policy, they would still be selling their wares door to door?
Even Red Skelton, one of the most gentle souls to ever bless our planet, knew that the quickest way to a girl's heart was... well, you know.
Continuing the series. Can you feel the romance in the air?
(in the extended entry)
One of Hollywood's most dashing leading men of his day, you could always count on Errol Flynn to throw himself into his role. Why, he almost looks like he's going to enjoy this.
I came home from work yesterday, putzed around the house a little, picked Mookie up from her after-school activity, ate some leftovers for dinner and went to bed. Slept straight through until this morning.
I must've needed to catch up. That is sooooo not me.
The second in a series of classic Hollywood pictures, with a Rocket Jones twist.
I'm such a romantic.
(in the extended entry)
Sorry dear, but when I said "be ready at eight, I meant it". Will she learn her lesson? Perhaps, but then again, maybe she did it on purpose. There's nothing like a nicely warmed fanny to take the chill from a winter's evening out on the town.
It wasn't exciting, it wasn't thrilling, it wasn't a blowout, it was just a game. How dull. Even the commercials were uninspired.
I've got to give Owens his due, when it's time to play, he brings it.
Someone explain to me again why McNabb is a great quarterback?
Saint Valentine's Day. Cupid, cards, and heart shaped bits of chalk with sweet words on 'em. In honor of the holiday and the ones we have feelings for, Rocket Jones is proud to present a series of classic Hollywood moments.
Spankings, not just for birthdays anymore.
(in the extended entry, and safe for work)
Gene Autry was a man's man, and he knew how to break a spirited little filly. This classic Hollywood picture brings a whole new meaning to "Back in the Saddle Again", which would be the next photo in the series if I wasn't trying to keep an "R" rating.
The Eagles must have had T.O. sign a waiver for the game, absolving them of responsibility and possibly spelling out penalties on T.O. if he reinjures his leg. The other possibility is that the Eagles or Owens took out an insurance policy for this one game. Terrell Owens is too valuable in the long run to risk a longer term injury, even for the Super Bowl. Him playing without being cleared by the doctors is just stupid, and even though he claims to be ready, his judgement over the years has been less than sterling.
Owens claims that God told him to play. What if God is a Patriots fan?
I've seen variations of this floating around in email before, but this is the most comprehensive version I've ever run across. Many thanks to Gordon for forwarding it to me.
(in the extended entry)
Why The English Language Is Hard To Learn
1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.
19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?
If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth?
One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb through annals of history but not a single annal?
If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?
Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who are spring chickens or who would actually hurt a fly?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.
It occurs to me that if we move the federal government to Dade County, we wouldn't even have to change the stationery.
Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice's opening remarks to State employees:
(Applause.) Thank you very much. Thank you. Well, this is a little different welcome than the first time that I came to work at the State Department. Now, that may surprise some of you, but I was, in 1977, an intern in the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs. (Laughter and applause.) Now, there's a lesson in that: Be good to your interns. (Laughter.)
Complete text of her remarks can be found here.
Also distributed (sorry, couldn't find a link):
Message from the Secretary of StateColleagues, today is the first of many days ahead that we will work together to help our country build a safer, better world. I am honored to lead the State Department at this critical time—a time of challenge and hope and opportunity. And, like you, I owe a special debt of gratitude to our dear friend Colin Powell, who has served our nation with distinction, and has done so much to strengthen the Department of State.
September 11, 2001, was a defining moment for our nation and the world. Under the vision and leadership of President Bush, our nation has risen to meet the challenges of our time; fighting tyranny and terror, and securing the blessings of freedom and prosperity for a new generation. The work that America and our allies have undertaken, and the sacrifices we have made, have been difficult. And necessary. And right. Now is the time to build on these achievements—to make the world safer, and to make the world more free. We must use American diplomacy to help create a balance of power in the world that favors freedom. And the time for diplomacy is now.
In these momentous times, American diplomacy has three great tasks. We will unite the community of democracies in building an international system that is based on our shared values and the rule of law. We will strengthen the community of democracies to fight the threats to our common security and alleviate the hopelessness that feeds terror. And we will spread freedom and democracy throughout the world. That is the mission that President Bush has set for you and me, and the great mission of American diplomacy today.
As we begin our work together, President Bush and I will expect great things from each of you in the service of your country and of a great cause. More than ever, you will be active in spreading democracy, fighting terror, reducing poverty, and helping to protect the American homeland.
I want each of you to know that I have no higher priority than the well-being and personal development of the men and women of the Foreign and Civil Services and the Foreign Service Nationals who work beside us. I know from experience how hard you work and the many risks you take. And I am especially aware of the hardships and sacrifices that your families endure as they also serve our nation. I want you to know that I will personally work to help ensure that you have the tools you need to do your jobs—from training to budgets to mentoring to embassy security.
Colleagues, I am honored to be your Secretary during these historic times. Together, we will serve our wonderful country and the cause of freedom for which it stands.
Let's see... first she thanks outgoing Secretary Powell, next is a reminder about 9/11, then diplomacy, building democracy, fighting terror, and looking out for her people.
Yep. As far as I'm concerned, she hit all the right points. In the right order too.
In St. Paul, Minnesota:
"closed, indefinitely, due to 'cost un-certainty' and high player salaries"
Since everyone in the family except Mookie ended up sick last weekend, she did yeoman's work taking care of us all. For the record, she's closer to Ratchet than Nightengale.
From Reuters (which doesn't rhyme with "neuters"):
Female legislators in Israel have seen red after a leading rabbi compared women who wear the color to prostitutes.Protesting against a ritual ruling by Rabbi Eliyahu Abergil, head of the rabbinical court in the southern city of Beersheba, banning Jewish women from dressing in red, several woman lawmakers wore the color in parliament Monday.
Overreaction? I mean, it's not like he called them Dubya supporters.
Related thought: there's a city named Beer-Sheba? I dunno about you, but the name conjures up images of Friday nights full of good music, good drinkin' and women of questionable virtue (bless 'em all). I may have to add that to my list of places to visit before I die.
Sharkspage has links and story:
According to the BYU Icecats website:Jaxon Logan, our teammate, friend, and brother passed away Friday night. While blocking a slap shot, Jaxon was struck in the chest by the puck which led to cardiac arrest and ultimately his death. Jaxon was a great man, talented athlete, and fierce competitor. A memorial service will be held at the LDS church on 85 south 900 East Provo, Monday @ 6 pm. All are invited.
It's just one of those freak things that happens in life, and a good reminder to appreciate what you have.
An announcer on television just breathlessly announced that today's football game is historical because it's the first time that two African-American quarterbacks ever faced each other in a league championship game.
Who gives a shit? In the grand scheme of things, that's like the first-ever matchup between left-handed Ivy League graduates on a Thursday night game when it rained in the third quarter. Bottom line: McNabb is Eagles green and Vick is Falcons red.
If you want frozen onion rings made the old fashioned way, you know, with actual onion rings inside, you have to get gourmet onion rings. Otherwise, you get ring shaped dough with bits of chopped onion.
Crystal Light has come out with mini-packs of drink mix to turn your bottle of water into a bottle of lemonade or fruit punch.
My wife is feeling even worse than I am, so I have no one to whine to. This sucks.
Son TJ walked through the door at 11am, looking like crap. They sent him home from work after he started barfing. At 2pm, Liz was home, same thing. Dammit, I better not catch whatever they've got.
Since today is a holiday for me (inauguration), I took tomorrow off as well for a nice four-day weekend. Only problem is, I stupidly promised to paint the living room on my days off.
In painting, 90% of the job is prepwork, so I don't skimp on it, even though I hate it with a passion.
Reading the paint can, I noticed the part that said if you want one-coat coverage, you should apply the paint liberally. Anything to make the job go quicker, says I, even if I don't understand the reasoning. I put The Shawshank Redemption into the DVD player (it's the only Tim Robbins movie we own) , and I let the paint know how disappointed I was in it for being white and how it was inferior to paints of color.
One wall and part of the ceiling is done. It looks nice.
According to a new recent international survey, Icelandic women own more vibrators per capita than women in any other country.
We were supposed to be released from work today at 3pm because of tomorrow's inauguration ceremonies. Instead, this morning we got an inch or two of snow which caused a panic and we were released at 1pm.
So was everyone else it seems.
Three freakin' hours on the commute home. My forty-minute cruise to go 26 miles turned into a neverending slow-motion journey thanks to several nitwits in tricked-out piece-of-shit Hondas (or similar) who believed that physics didn't apply to them. As I finally drove past the multi-car wreck they caused, I could tell that at least two of the cars wouldn't be taking to the roads anytime soon. With any luck they weren't insured either, so it'll take even longer to save their pennies to get their homey-mobiles rolling again. Assholes.
In England, bar and pub owners are being advised to spray their toilet seat lids and covers with WD-40. Seems that patrons like to use the smooth surfaces to snort cocaine from.
"A chemical reaction takes place with the cocaine that causes it to congeal and become a mess so it's unusable," a police spokesman said. "It's one very small, very cheap way in which you can very seriously restrict the amount of drug use in your premises."
The manufacturer of WD-40 has already issued a statement reminding folks that WD-40 should not be ingested (it's right there on the can), but you just know some half-drunk yahoo is gonna do it anyways and the result will be an injury (real or lawyer-real) and, well, you know what comes next.
Over on the right, plus the archive of all taglines that have appeared is here.
Esa Tikkanen spent two decades in the NHL and now he hopes to become a coach. Since the NHL lockout drags on (and on and on and on), he's taken a player/coach position in the new Asian hockey league, with the South Korean team Halla. The league consists of teams from Japan, South Korea, Russia and China.
In less happy news:
The NHL's official puck supplier has laid off half its staff, a result of the hockey lockout that entered its 123rd day on Sunday.InGlasCo, of Sherbrooke, Quebec, laid off 20 of about 40 employees from a plant that normally produces about 300,000 pucks and souvenirs for the 30 NHL teams.
"The business has been down since September, we haven't shipped anything to any NHL teams, no souvenir or licensed products"
Yet another group of people directly impacted by millionaires having a biggest-dick contest.
Hasbro Toys is ready to roll out a new Mr. Potato Head line, this time tying into the Star Wars franchise.
May the force be with Sheila O'Malley for pointing that out.
All night long. This morning I stepped in a poodle.
Liz got this in email and couldn't wait to share it with me.
ROMANCE MATHEMATICS
Smart man + smart woman = romance
Smart man + dumb woman = affair
Dumb man + smart woman = marriage
Dumb man + dumb woman = pregnancy
OFFICE ARITHMETIC
Smart boss + smart employee = profit
Smart boss + dumb employee = production
Dumb boss + smart employee = promotion
Dumb boss + dumb employee = overtime
SHOPPING MATH
A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs.
A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't need.
GENERAL EQUATIONS & STATISTICS
A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.
A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.
HAPPINESS
To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little.
To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.
LONGEVITY
Married men live longer than single men do, but married men are a lot more willing to die.
PROPENSITY TO CHANGE
A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't.
A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, and she does.
DISCUSSION TECHNIQUE
A woman has the last word in any argument.
Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.
HOW TO STOP PEOPLE FROM BUGGING YOU ABOUT GETTING MARRIED
Old aunts used to come up to me at weddings, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me, "You're next." They stopped after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.
With all the beautiful warm weather we've been having, the freaking mosquito's have come out in force.
Tomorrow it drops below freezing again and it's gonna be a bloodsucking slaughter. Heh.
Or in this case, the old workplace.
I worked in the building across the street for several years, but now they're demolishing it. They've spent several weeks gutting the interiors, and yesterday started in with the wrecking ball.
My old office is a balcony.
The takeover was pretty darn hostile, but Oracle finally absorbed PeopleSoft. Now they're announcing immediate layoffs, and rumors hold it could be up to half of the original PeopleSoft workforce.
Good.
I've dealt with PeopleSoft products and they're less than impressive, in a violently inhaled cave-in-your-cheeks sort of way. Bitter? Nahhhhhh.
(in the extended entry)
Q: Which of these four things doesn't belong on this list?
eggs, meat, dog, blowjob
A: You can beat eggs, and you can beat your meat. You can even beat your dog, but you can't beat a blowjob!
In football, playoffs are those extra games at the end of the year between all the teams in the league who win enough games. They use the playoff games to figure out who the best team is that season.
I know some Washington Redskins fans are confused as to why some teams are still playing. In recent seasons, the Redskins have sometimes stopped playing football as early as October.
I'm sure this has been all over the net and email, but what the heck.
(in the extended entry)
50. Act Naturally
49. Found Missing
48. Resident Alien
47. Advanced BASIC
46. Genuine Imitation
45. Designer Jeans
44. Good Grief
43. Same Difference
42. Almost Exactly
41. Government Organization
40. Sanitary Landfill
39. Alone Together
38. Legally Drunk
37. Silent Scream
36. British Fashion
35. Living Dead
34. Small Crowd
33. Business Ethics
32. Soft Rock
31. Butt Head
30. Military Intelligence
29. Software Documentation
28. New York Culture
27. Extinct Life
26. Sweet Sorrow
25. Childproof
24. "Now, then..."
23. Synthetic Natural Gas
22. Christian Scientists
21. Passive Aggression
20. Taped Live
19. Clearly Misunderstood
18. Peace Force
17. New Classic
16. Temporary Tax Increase
15. Jumbo Shrimp
14. Plastic Glasses
13. Terribly Pleased
12. Computer Security
11. Political Science
10. Tight Slacks
9. Definate Maybe
8. Pretty Ugly
7. Twelve Ounce Pound Cake
6. Diet Ice Cream
5. Rap Music
4. Working Vacation
3. Exact Estimate
2. Religious Tolerance
AND the Number One Top Oxymoron
1. Microsoft Works
If you display an American flag at your house, replace it when it gets faded or worn. Check your phone book for a local American Legion or Veteran's of Foreign Wars (VFW) post and they'll take the old flag and dispose of it properly.
In fact, ask about attending a flag disposal ceremony. It's a stirring tribute to Old Glory, and something everyone should see at least once.
On Futurama, one of the newscasters is Morbo, an alien with a serious dislike for humans. When asked "how's the family?", he replies, "numerous and belligerent."
Oh yeah, every time.
PETA is oblivious to how stupid they appear to most people:
A prominent U.S.-based animal rights group urged former President Jimmy Carter on Monday to give up fishing on the grounds that the activity was inconsistent the Nobel peace laureate's humanitarian efforts.
This kind of argument could actually sway the man, which makes me shudder to think he occupied the oval office for four years.
To the person who got here by Googling "true erotic paperboy story", well, I'll 'fess up now.
Never. Nada. Zip.
Thanks for asking, though.
As for the person looking for "indentations above ass crack", they're called dimples.
Baseball's Los Angeles Anaheim California Los Angeles Anaheim Angels have announced that their new official team name is the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim.
Never one to miss a marketing opportunity, George Steinbrenner has announced that his team will henceforth be known as the Boston Yankees of New York, and the Irsay family hopped on the bandwagon by renaming their team the Baltimore Colts of Indianapolis.
Lawyers for Al Davis are looking into the possibilty of suing all North American sports leagues over ownership of the name "Los Angeles".
I'm looking forward to that new Fox series Point Pleasant (link is bandwidth intensive). I just hope the actual show lives up to the hype.
I also will not drink Miller beer as long as those lame-assed referee commercials air. Miller is quickly joining the short list of products I refuse to use on principle, because they blatantly insult my intelligence.
Firefox. It's actually been downloaded onto my PC for a couple of weeks now, but I never got around to installing it until this morning. It seemed like a nice way to welcome the New Year.
In other trivial news, yesterday I discovered that my oldest daughter has no funk in her soul. She is funk-free. How sad.
Here's hoping that all of my friends and family have a safe, healthy and joyous 2005. May all your wishes come true.
2004 that is. We've got uncommonly warm temperatures for the next couple of days, so I'm going to take advantage and paint the front fence. It's been needing it, but I couldn't get days off to match up with nice weather all autumn, and I thought I'd missed the chance until springtime.
My wife is at a job interview. Someone saw her resume on Monster and called her yesterday. We'll see how it goes. She's been talking about maybe going back to substitute teaching, which would be ideal for her since she can set her own schedule. Last time she did that she was in great demand and was often booked up a month in advance.
I don't know how much posting will happen for the remainder of the weekend. After we finish the fence we've got some household electrical work to do (replace a couple of outlets and rehang a ceiling fan). Mookie is going out tonight to a house party with drama friends and oldest daughter doesn't have plans as far as I know. Well, she had plans but I wasn't real happy about them so she cancelled. She was invited to drive into DC with a group to go clubbing, but what they really wanted was her to be designated driver so they could get ripped. Oh yeah, big fun - on the road on New Years with a carload of very drunk nitwits.
Us? We're planning our usual very quiet evening. At midnight we'll hug and kiss, exchange "I love you"s and mock Regis. Then we'll go to bed, happy that we've spent another entire year together.
Y'all take care and have fun.
When I got home from work yesterday, I found that both dogs had been given badly needed haircuts, leaving me as the last shaggy beast in the house.
Afterwards, the dogs always spend a few days humping everything in sight, as if they were so traumatized that they instinctively look to spread their genetic material.
I was warned to check my sneaker before inserting foot, just in case.
Jerry Orbach, dead at age 69 of prostate cancer.
It is impossible to mistake Brian Wilson's music for anybody else's. He uses vocals in his songs to echo or replace bass and rhythm lines. His melodies are simple yet unforgettable. Every tune he writes is unmistakably his. The (finally) released album Smile is no exception. It opens with an a cappella piece that evokes images of a church organ. A church organ playing Beach Boys music, of course. The music turns melancholy, but even when Wilson writes a dirge, in your mind you picture the funeral being held on a bright clear sunny day.
If you're unfamiliar with Smile, it's because it was unfinished for almost 40 years. Because of professional obstacles and personal demons, Brian Wilson only recently completed the work that was to be his Magnum Opus.
In late 1966, fueled by the Zeitgeist, psychedelics, hubris and hashish, Brian set out to create his ultimate "teenage symphony to God." Earlier in 1966 he had almost singlehandedly created the acclaimed Pet Sounds, and had followed up that masterpiece with the gorgeous single, Good Vibrations. (Paul McCartney has called Pet Sounds "the classic of this century.")
Good Vibrations was always to be the finale to this work, and throughout you'll hear echoes and teasers from it, as well as from other Beach Boys music. Bits and pieces of their well-known music are strewn about, and as you listen your ears perk up as you recognize a familiar tone phrase woven into the music, but joined together in unexpected and interesting ways. Even Good Vibrations is new again, the arrangement is a bit different and the mix is less polished than the classic we grew up hearing.
I've listened to it twice straight through now, and I think it's aptly named. This is a musical smile on a bright sunny day. I like it.
Notes: My wife had a heckuva time finding this for Christmas. Look under "Wilson", not "Beach Boys".
I intentionally did not read any reviews of Smile beforehand, wanting to hear it with an open mind. Here's one reviewer who agrees with me, but says it so much better.
Obviously not very good porn, because he's reading with both hands (in the extended entry - marginally safe for work).
This morning in the shower I noticed a whole bunch of new bottles and jars in the rack and stacked precariously on any level surface. Not unexpected because I live with three ladies in the family, and bath items are popular for gift giving. As I was reading the different labels, it occurred to me that my shower routine is simple.
1. Find the squirty bottle marked shampoo and wash hair.
2. Find the squirty bottle marked "Dove" and put some on my scrubber thing*. Wash everything else.
2a. In absence of squirty bottle marked "Dove", find alternate squirty bottle of soap and proceed as normal. Make mental note to ask why "Dove" isn't there.
No weird combinations of flora essensces and oils. No "morning" scrubs and "evening" scrubs. If I happen to get a zit, I congratulate myself on my continued youth and vigor and be done with it.
*My scrubber thing can be any color - I don't care - as long as nobody else has one the same color.
I still get comments on a post from last April about good songs for pole dancing. Just for fun, I googled "stripper music" and Rocket Jones came up #1 for that search.
You come for the content, you stay for the class.
Over on the right sidebar, and you can see the archive of previously posted taglines here.
If you haven't voted yet to name my new Chinese Chicken recipe, please do. It's also on the right hand column (so's a link to the story behind the recipe). If you already have, then vote again. This isn't some democratic process, it's my blog, and management says voting is fun.
The banner at the top of the page is the original one from Rocket Jones, and was done by my good friend Carl. He's an incredible talent, and you may have seen his work on CD covers and children's books.
Did you see the football game last night between the Kansas City Chiefs and Oakland Raiders?
Even though my beloved Raiders lost, that was a fun game to watch. Harkening (harking?) back to the old AFL days, it was all offense all the time, and the defenses seemed to be there only because they're required by the rules.
Thank you NFL, that was a treat.
This year, the family veered to the practical with most of the gifts given, and there were quite a few homemade items exchanged as well. Amazingly enough, I had a rocket-free Christmas.
My wife made me an apron, including my name embroidered on the front. She also got me a new food processor. Standing orders in the house include strangling me if I ever holler "BAM!" or say "kick it up a notch".
I suspect every discount priced DVD bin within 200 miles of here was raided, and I wound up with a stack of wonderfulness. Some serious holes in my horror essentials collection were filled, along with a handful of truly craptacular titles.
I also got Brian Wilson's long-awaited masterpiece album: Smile. And yes, I am.
What did Santa bring you?
Staying at the top all day, scroll down for new entries.
I'm hopeless when it comes to wrapping presents. They always come out looking like a first-grader did the job, using odd bits of tape to hold down randomly buckled areas of paper. I'm also stubborn enough to do it myself every year, because that's part of my gift too: that I went to the trouble of wrapping it myself so you can laugh at me and my inept pretty paper skills.
I believe the ladies have something in their DNA that lets them whoof out beautifully done giftwrapping without effort, which annoys the hell out of me.
I also believe though, that I've found the perfect solution. Better than those tacky gift bags or pre-folded boxes even. You will never hear a guy complain or kid you about your wrapping job if you put his gift inside a toolbox.
Everyone has snuck candy and drinks into a movie theater, but I wonder how many of you can top my family.
Mookie once snuck a rootbeer float into the theater in her backpack. In order not to spill, she had to pretend she was an honors graduate of Miss Simmons' Charm School and put on her best posture ever. It was noticable enough that friends remarked on it.
Oldest daughter and wife once managed Chinese take-out. I am humbled.
So what's the craziest thing you've ever snuck into a movie theater?
Me? If there's a balcony, I'll bring a can of Campbell's Chunky Soup. Otherwise, I stick to the popcorn with psuedo-butter-colored liquid squirts and the 55 gallon drum o' soda.
In pictorial format. Click on the links in sequence, they'll open in a new window.
Picture 1
Picture 2
Picture 3
Picture 4
Picture 5
Picture 6
Picture 7
Picture 8
Picture 9
Picture 10
Picture 11
Update: Victor points us to the indispensible Snopes, where we discover that the story is not entirely true.
(in the extended entry)
If they're flying, ya just lead 'em a bit more.
Which proves he's magical. If I did that, I'd be arrested.
This is staying up top all day, so scroll down to see new posts.
According to Kyle (who remains intermittently anonymous), the Nog still stands, and probably could even without the carton. We've long passed disgusting and have moved into the realm of the scary.
What is Nog Watch? Background story here and here and here and here and in the name of all that is holy please stop here and here.
The CEO of Phizer has announced that they are not going to take Celebrex off the market.
For us, that's a good thing. You see, Celebrex is one of the suite of drugs that my wife takes that keeps her from needing to go back to her wheelchair. There are alternatives, and she's tried them as she and her doctors have tinkered with combinations and dosages over years. None of the alternatives work as well. Some don't work at all.
So yes, we're concerned about the eventual effects, but so far the increased danger has only been observed in one study. A second study showed no such problems, and we remain hopeful. And thankful for modern medicine that produces little pill-sized miracles that we too often take for granted. All of us are walking a chemical tightrope our entire lives, and sometimes even the safety net isn't 100% perfect.
Someone on the newsgroups posted a bunch of vintage cards and I thought I'd share some. For the bandwidth impaired, they're in the extended entry.
There's a couple things I noticed right off the bat. In the old days Santa was more than a little creepy.
In fact, the first thing I thought of when I saw some of these cards was Aqualung.
St. Nick also seems to have a drinking problem. Who needs Rudolph with a honker like that?
What's with his compulsion to go mining for nose gold? I believe that the bit about "laying his finger alongside his nose" was a literary attempt to cover for the old man's less than exemplary habit.
So apparently, the big red round dude has done some serious image modification for today's world. Is he hiding something, or has he really changed?
No white Christmas according to the forecasts, but it's beautiful out there this evening.
I'll worry about the commute tomorrow morning, tomorrow morning.
I may have mentioned M1ke before (yes, that's a one, and it's how he spelled it online). He had the ability to write some of the funniest dirty stories I've ever read. He 'retired' in 1997, but before he disappeared (or more likely changed his online name), he left us an unforgettable short story titled The Night Before Christmas. This story is neither dirty nor funny, and I hope he's still somewhere around and sharing his amazing talent.
I'm serious about this, go read the story.
When Daniel first started blogging, he did a series on "how and why things work" that was very interesting and informative (sorry, no link to specifics, couldn't find anything on his page for that).
Being a grad student and lab rat research assistant, he probably doesn't have time for that series anymore, and we haven't seen one in quite a while. That's a shame.
So as a service to the Rocket Jones readers, I'm going to pick up the torch and run with it, much like the scissors mom warned you about. Not being a professional scientist (or even one in training), I'll have to apply my innate parental skills to the task.
First question:
continued in the extended entry
Answer: Because it is lazy.
See how simple that is? Now I could list pages of mathematical formulas and logic constructs to explain it all, but a good parent crafts an answer that simultaneously accomplishes two things.
Firstly, the answer should make sense to the young and inquiring mind, thus shutting him up satisfying their curiousity.
Secondly, once the answer is recognized as nonsense by the now-older child, it gives the parent the opportunity to say "go look it up". That moment is one every parent relishes, and probably drives 30% of all sales of home reference materials.
Next time, we'll explain how teenage sex causes zits.
Hockey. Fed up with it. Disgusted. Barely paying attention to the labor problems because the average NHL player busts his ass for more than a million dollars per year while I bust my ass for a pitiful fraction of that. Shut up you whiny bitches and enjoy your season playing in Podunk, Russia. Hope like hell you don't suffer a career-ending injury there either. If I sound sympathetic towards the owners, it's only a matter of degree. They've done it to themselves with idiot owners (why are the biggest nitwits always in New York?) who wildly overpay for average talent. But you know what? The players agreed to the contracts. I never heard of an owner saying "I'm not going to pay you what we agreed to because you didn't perform up to expectations." Hockey is a business, and the players seem to think that the owners owe them the ability to make a living playing professional hockey for top dollar. I wonder how many owners have secretly admitted that they'd be better off folding their team and being done with the annual ritual of losing money? To the players: the owners don't owe you squat. How do you say "Bend over and enjoy it" in Swedish?
DC Baseball. The Nationals might never be. Boo freaking Hoo. I'm an Orioles fan and it wouldn't break my heart at all not to have a "local" team (transplanted from Canada and known for it's distinct Latin character) move in and take away televised games I actually care to see. Nobody local should be surprised, because it's Washington DC fer pete's sake! What did you expect?!?!?!?! The Nationals were a political hostage from the day they were announced, I'm just surprised their official uniforms weren't announced as orange jumpsuits.
Update before I even posted this: I just caught the briefest radio flash on this so the details might be wrong, but apparently DC is requiring a non-refundable $10,000 payment with each financing plan. This fee will be used to hire private auditors or some such because the District's CFO is out of the country until mid-January. This doesn't make much sense to me as I write it, but the additional up-front money is typical DC gov.
The repair guy showed up late yesterday afternoon to fix the oven. Two hundred dollars for 10 minutes worth of work, it was a straight part swap-out of the igniter module. Apparently they lose efficiency over time and ours lasted more than twice as long as average. To make the one stove burner "just like new" would be another hundred and a half, but we've learned to work around it even though it works "just like old", so we passed on that. I can't complain much because the range is 12 years old and this is the first trouble we've ever had from it.
I have to work in the morning dammit, and they're out there partying all night long.
Vindicated by Dashboard ConfessionalHope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine of it has caught my eyeAnd roped me in
So mesmerizing, so hypnotizing
I am captivated, I am{Chorus}
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
I swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourselfSo clear
Like the diamond in your ring
Cut to mirror your intention
Oversized and overwhelmed
The shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me
So isolated, so motivated
I am certain now that I am{Chorus}
So turn
Up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment, fall foreverDefense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'll be in
Too deep now to ever swim against the current
So let me slip away (3x)
So let me slip against the current
So let me slip away (4x){Chorus}
My hope
dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption...
Actual conversations and comments from my youngest daughter.
Here's where I wish I had multiple sets of eyes so I could glare at more than one of you at once.
Discussing attire for a semi-formal this weekend:
I have formal and I have informal. Maybe I should just wear my prom dress and a hoodie.
In her Physics class with her lab partner:
Partner: Give me a random number so I can solve this quadratic equation.Mookie: 76.
Partner (after a few moments): Whoa, that's weird. Let me double check that... (more time passes) Holy crap, the answer is 75.9!
Mookie: Tuesday is jello day.
dreamTed: "I think I'll start using random punctuation and italicizing on Rocket Jones, just for fun."dreamMookie: "I though you already did."
I grounded her for dreamLife. Did you know there was a dreamChild Services?
She'll have to hurry to finish in time for Christmas.
(in the extended entry, safe for work unless you work for Scrooge)
1. BIKE SEATS
Their primary purpose is to be straddled. Is it any wonder we want to be reincarnated as one?
2. GIRLS FIGHTING
Cursing, crying, pulling hair, throwing drinks, abusing bathroom attendants and being convicted of assault: sexy. A mug shot with a tear-streaked face: even sexier.
3. THE AUTOMATED FEMALE VOICE YOU HEAR WHEN YOU DIAL 4-1-1
"I think you said, 'Spank me hard.' Is this correct? To confirm, press 1 or say yes."
4. GYNECOLOGY
Very serious matter, seven years of training, blah, blah, blah...We just want a set of those stirrup things. Think they can be rented for private parties?
5. LEOPARD PRINTS
Because they say, "I really do not care." Just add vodka and Bon Jovi for a down-and-dirty good time.
6. OUR FRIENDS' MOMS
They were hot when we were 13 and didn't know any better. Then we grew out of it - only to grow back into it. We were right the first time.
7. GIRLS HUGGING
Look! Their nipples are almost touching! Damn those blouses!
8. WOMEN DRESSED AS MEN
Either lolling around in our shirts the morning after or doing the full drawn-on-mustache cigar-suit thing. It's like Groucho Marx with a vagina.
9. SHOE-STORE EMPLOYEES TYING YOUR LACES
It was the most mind-blowingly erotic experience of our young lives. Now we have to buy $500 shoes for the pleasure. At least we're smart enough to ask for double knots.
10. FEMALE BARTENDERS
If we passed them on the street, we wouldn't look twice. But put them in a dark room and in charge of beer and suddenly we're babbling idiots. And not just because we're wasted out of our mind. Well, it's not totally because we're wasted out of our mind.
11. FEMALE POLICE OFFICERS
Beneath the stern expression, starched shirt and firearm is the soft, yielding, lightly scented flesh of a woman. A woman who could shoot us if we looked at her the wrong way. Ideally, while we're handcuffed to the headboard.
12. PREGNANT WOMEN
Because their boobs get even bigger. And because they're broadcasting to the entire world that they just had sex.
13. FAT GIRLS
We come for the cleavage. We stay for the sex. We leave in shame - satiated shame.
14. SCHOOLGIRL UNIFORMS
Especially when worn by Japanese girls. White socks optional. Pigtails essential. It's not a fetish if 100 percent of men like it - it's a law of nature.
15. JESSICA RABBIT
If she lets a stuttering bunny take a crack at her, it means we might actually have a chance. But unfortunately, we're not a cartoon. Hear that, Lucy Van Pelt? There's no way that's our baby!
16. HELENA BONHAM CARTER IN PLANET OF THE APES
Yes, a monkey girl. Is that so wrong? Know what? Watch a female ape eat a banana and get back to us.
17. CONDOM INSTRUCTIONS
Not that we need instruction, but the detailed language and explicit diagrams make us want to try it right now. (And don't think we won't.) They're also good for a little light bathroom reading.
18. WOMEN WHO HATE US
Particularly if they've belittled us in front of our friends, called us ugly and/or gay and are going out with much better-looking, manlier men than us. Those girls are as hot as our confidence is shattered.
19. CAROLYN FROM THE APPRENTICE
She's like a female cop, but with an extra dash of fascism.
20. LINGERIE DEPARTMENTS
Not the lingerie itself, but rather the notion that we might get a sales girl so wildly turned on by our blithely fingering the same undies she's wearing that she has to enact her fantasy of raunchy sex with a total stranger in the nearest dressing room. (Preferably, that stranger would be us.)
21. BURQAS
We hear that women who wear them also sport ultrasexy lingerie underneath, reserved for the eyes of their husbands. Now that's all we can think about. Allah, please forgive us! And angry husbands, don't stone us!
22. TAN LINES
The pale parts look even more naked next to the tanned parts. This also works with sock marks and bra indentations.
23. FEMALE COLLEAGUES BENDING OVER
You respect her. She respects you. Then you stare at her ass crack like it's the Grand Canyon.
24. VISIBLE PANTY LINES
Because they're visible! And they're panties!
25. HORSEBACK RIDING
Expert thighs clamped around hard, quivering muscle? Ass-whipping? Steamy snorting? Notorious for giving young women their first orgasms? Bareback and mounting? If that's not sublimated sex, then neither is Kathy Bates' nude hot-tub scene in About Schmidt.
And as an added bonus, in the extended entry are Five Things We Should Find Sexy...But Don't.
1. FEMALE EJACULATION
The only thing she should be squirting is perfume. Or mace.
2. SEX AND THE CITY
One's an actual lesbian, and they don't even work it in? We wuz robbed!
3. WOMEN WHO LIKE FOOTBALL
Next thing you know, they'll be farting and stealing our Cheetos.
4. SPOONING
Cuddling is only hot when penetration is involved.
5. JULIA ROBERTS
Unless you have a horse fetish.
Our oven has gone bonky. The stove part works fine, but the oven itself doesn't want to light. It will, eventually, but I wouldn't stand in front of it when the gigantic *WOOF* happens, because one of these times it'll blow the door open and emit a fireball that'd make Smaug proud. So we aren't using the oven until it gets fixed.
Fifty dollars for the guy to walk in the door to tell us the oven is broken. And I've already done most of the diagnostic work for him, thanks to a friendly and experienced neighbor. Yesterday we checked the gas pressure in the house at the furnace and water heater (it's good), even did a little pre-winter maintenance on the appliances and they're all ok. I took the oven apart a little and made sure the glow plate is working and cleaned out the gas vents, which seem to be working just fine. So it's the thermocouple or a gas valve or something like that, and will probably be hideously expensive and rediculously easy to replace.
Like the old joke about the machine problem that no one on site could fix, so they called the vendor technician. He walked in, watched it for a few minutes, took out a screwdriver and turned a screw 1/4 turn, after which the machine ran perfectly. Then he presented a bill for $600.00. The plant manager threw a hissy fit and demanded an itemized bill, so the tech wrote:
"turn screw - $2.00"
"knowing which screw to turn - $598.00"
We'll find out thursday which screw to turn.
Because unwrapping your present is the best part.
(in the extended entry - more or less safe for work)
Since Susie asked, I have to offer my apologies for not finding "firemen in nothing but red suspenders". Apparently there is a limit to what you can find on the internet, and now I'm getting popup ads that scare me.
But I might have an acceptable compromise or three (in the extended entry, and it's even semi-safe for work)
This is about the best I could do. Notice the fire extinguisher, which I have a problem with (unless it's filled with whipped cream). Do you really want a professional who, just when things get really heated up, jumps out of bed and grabs extra equipment ...wait, that didn't come out right... yells a warning before he hoses you down ...that's even worse... calls Central Dispatch for additional units ... uh, forget I even started that sentence, ok?
Or I could offer to get Susie the list of all the guys who've ordered this book. In a group like that, it seems like there'd be more than a few keepers.
Then again, since giving is better than receiving, I could just give Susie this, and then she could give me a show. Give, give, give, everybody wins. It's the holiday spirit in me, I tell ya.
Be a considerate neighbor. Use a little hot-melt glue to attach a couple of pieces of foam rubber to the back of the headboard.
The assistant to the President of Notre Dame has shaved her head to protest the firing of former football coach Tyrone Willingham.
"The process was flawed," Johnson said. "There weren't enough people in the conversation. And there was little or no consideration of the ramifications of the decision."
In other words, the people who were delegated the authority to hire and fire football coaches did so, but because Willingham is black, that makes it wrong and different this time.
Johnson also said the decision has hurt Notre Dame's goal of improving diversity on campus.
Bullshit. Notre Dame has hundreds if not thousands of applications for each student slot available.
"I think the damage that was done by this decision is irreparable in the immediate future," she told the newspaper.
Yep, doom and gloom. "Irreperable" damage. Whitey is just jumping for joy over this one.
On Wednesday, [University President] Malloy said he was surprised Willingham was not given more time to try to succeed and that he was embarrassed by the firing.
Translation: "A shitstorm has developed over the firing of a non-performing football coach who happens to be black, and I need to cover my ass. Besides, football isn't that important to colleges anyways, especially not to Notre Dame."
I have a dream, when a man will be judged not by the color of his skin, but by the performance of the job he's been hired to do.
Seen on an online bulletin board:
In LotR all the elves sailed to the “undying lands” to the west. Continental drift caused those lands to move further north and eventually they were left to spend eternity making toys for their new red-suited overlord.
Ho.
(in the extended entry - not quite safe for work)
Remember the Beverly Hillbillys and their loaded-down truck? Pots and pans hanging off'n it, and the washtub lashed to the front bumper. Granny's rocking chair was sitting up top, balanced precariously on the pile of everything they owned.
The trip back from Michigan wasn't quite that bad.
Bungee cords are your friend.
No college student should own that much crap.
I carefully planned this one around good weather, and we made the return trip on the one non-rainy day forecasted for the week. The ride up was an adventure, going through Pennsylvania I hit fog so thick you couldn't see fifty feet in front of you, then a blinding driving rain on the turnpike's downhill run. Mostly though, it was drizzly and rainy and showery and blustery. Enough to keep you alert and paying attention to the road, not enough to dampen my good spirits.
I saw the most vivid rainbow in my life in Ohio. The colors were electric and it was very close. A few minutes later it was joined by a second, slightly more faint arc. Awesome.
We packed the truck twice. The first time in the parking lot of her dorm and the second time in a commuter lot about 10 miles south of her campus. I made her give stuff away to the kids who helped bring her stuff down from the room. Stuff that wouldn't fit in the truck.
No one should own that many shoes. Her nickname as a teen was "Imelda", and she's still living up to that name.
I ended up driving the entire way back (11+ hours) because I just couldn't contort myself enough to sit in the passenger seat around the crap on the floor. When we tried to make the driver swap, Robyn popped into the Starbucks on the turnpike plaza for a large coffee and a double-shot of caffeine. It was kinda funny watching her buzz for awhile after that. Yakata-yakata-yakata-yakata...
So I drove on, doing fine and enjoying the ride. We got home late last night and unloaded granny's rocker Robyn's life, and even got most of it put away (at least temporarily).
Son just left for work - job 1 this morning, first day at job 2 this afternoon - and Mookie is bumbling around getting things together for school. So why am I up? My legs are griping a little bit this morning about the long drive, teetering on the very edge of a massive charlie horse. I get up and walk around every few minutes, do the stairs a couple of times, stretching out and keeping them warm.
The whole family is home again. Nice. (temporarily... temporarily... temporarily...)
Headed to Michigan to pick up oldest daughter from college. Be back in a couple of days. Take care.
Being male, there are certain things you can't help but notice in a public men's room. Audio things. Things you might not even realize conciously, but you notice.
For instance, some men like to direct their stream against the side of the porcelain to minimize the sound, while others aim directly for the deep end to go for the big splash. The more frivolous might be trying to recreate in miniature the effect of water erosion against the deodorant cake, and there are always the bubble games to amuse the mind while neccessarily occupied in standing still (cool, that one looks just like Florida!).
More fundamental are the physical differences. The male organ is highly variable in detail, even in it's non-recreational role. A gentleman with a larger diameter urethra sounds like he's pouring water into the toilet from a glass (or a fire hose). A man closer to garden hose functionality won't make nearly as much noise and will take considably longer to complete the task at hand. Then there are those guys who seem to have a sprinkler head attached to the end of their willie, and cannot hit the target regardless of range or proximity.
Those last are the ones you want to avoid ladies, else you'll be wiping the seat and mopping bathroom floors for the rest of your life.
Tennessee Birdwalk Take away the trees
and the birds'll have to sit upon the ground.
(Hum)
Take away their wings
and the birds'll have to walk to get around.
Take away the birdbaths
and dirty birds will soon be everywhere.
Take away their feathers
and the birds will walk around in underwear.
Take away their (whistle)
and the birds'll have to whisper when they sing.
(Chirp chirp!)
Take away their common sense
and they'll be heading southward in the spring.Oh, remember me, my darling when spring is in the air,
And the bald headed birds are whispering everywhere.
When you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear,
That's the Tennessee Bird Walk.How about some trees
so the birds won't have to sit upon the ground?
(Hum)
And how about some wings
so the birds won't have to walk to get around?
And how about a birdbath or two
so the birds will all be clean?
And how about some feathers
so their underwear no longer will be seen?
How about a little (whistle)
so the birds won't have to whisper when they sing?
(Chirp chirp!)
And how about some common sense,
So they won't be blocking traffic in the spring?Oh, remember me, my darling when spring is in the air
And the bald headed birds are whispering everywhere
When you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear
That's the Tennessee Bird Walk (Chirp chirp!)-- Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan
You can hear the whole thing here (chirp chirp).
Have you seen that Staples commercial where grandma takes a picture of the family with a stapler? The voiceover helpfully tells us that she's hinting that she wants a digital camera from Staples.
Those folks don't hear the voiceover. If I were in dad's place, I think grandma would get a nice room at a home for Christmas.
Posted this last December, and cute enough to repeat (plus I know most of you wouldn't click if I just linked to it).
You can access the interstate from a dirt road.
Velma is *much* sexier than Daphne. She's intelligent, brunette and wears glasses.
Update: My wife doesn't read Rocket Jones, so when I told her about this post and the talk about Velma being gay, she instantly opined:
Velma? Hell yeah. Skirt and knee socks. Definitely gay.
Lots going on around the ol' homestead and at work right now, so posting has been and will continue to be light.
Notable event: Mookie cooked last night and tried a new recipe on us. It turned out pretty good. She's an indifferent cook, so I tell her she's got a promising career in the military food services field.
After dinner, she got on the PC and downloaded some software and drivers for her TI scientific calculator. She's got the same teacher for Statistics and Physics, so he expects more from her in both classes. It amazes me when I watch the kids work their magic on those things, because I can barely count to ten.
We also watched a 1960's drive-in classic: Tales of Terror. Three stories loosely based on Poe, written by Roger Corman, and starring Vincent Price (in all three), Peter Lorre and Basil Rathbone. I might do a review later, but if you see it in the TV Guide, it's worth watching. It was Mookie's first real exposure to Price and Lorre, and she had no idea who Basil Rathbone was.
Almost forgot, I baked one of those Peanut Butter & Oatmeal pies. Pretty good and very very rich. The cookie crust burnt a little bit, and we were thinking that it might be better with a crushed chocolate 'nilla wafer crust instead to cut the sheer intensity of the peanut butter. Next time.
And that was pretty much my evening. It sounds boring, but there's something special about spending it with the family. Works for me.
Since everyone missed it in the Blogger Bowl post below, here is an explicit link to my newest fans: Rats for Rockets. Check it out.
From Rachel Lucas:
Suffice to say some Michael Moore fans hate me more than I hate Michael Moore. Which is kind of flattering but also really scary. John has been telling me for years to stop blogging under my real name, and you know what? I think it's time. I want to blog but I haven't felt free to truly express myself in a long, long time because of the hate mail and creepy folk who know how to do people searches. I don't live in a swanky apartment building with a doorman and security like Michael Moore does, that fat pig of a loathesome scumbag.So I'm going to go anonymous, with a new blog. How will you, my loyal readers, know that it's me? I don't know. I'm sorry. But I'm guessing, and I know it's a correct guess, that 99% of you understand completely and will support this change wholeheartedly because you probably don't want my doorbell to be rung by some psycho hippie who thinks Fahrenheit 9/11 is the greatest truth ever told.
I still get the occasional comment dripping with venom over a *joke* post I made long ago about Michael Moore, so I have a teeny tiny taste of what this kind and wonderful and funny lady is going through. Go anonymous Rachel, s'ok and you're right. We understand. But I'm still gonna look for you and find you. In a non-threatening, non-stalkerish kinda way of course.
And when I do, I'm gonna read ya.
Q: How many real men does it take to change a light bulb?
A: None. Real men aren't afraid of the dark.
I'm talking about the urge to hibernate. I can't remember a year when the onset of winter has had such an effect on me. For the last month my appetite has been mucho grande and all I want to do is sleep sleep sleep. Very unlike me (the sleep part, that is).
If I call my wife "little Boo-Boo" one more time, I think she's going to hit me.
Who Gets the Wishbone?There's nothing better than the whole family getting together for Thanksgiving.
Sounds like a stripper name, doesn't it?
Actually, I'm talking about the color.
Kinda nice, eh? Now imagine that same color done in a beautiful metallic finish. Very nice.
BUT NOT FOR A WHOLE FREAKING CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Too much of that color looks like someone's stomach turned inside out and you're sitting inside the giant bladder, cluelessly rolling down the road. Gahhh.
If you've seen this elf, contact your local authorities immediately. She is armed with a teenager's attitude and could be dangerous to your sanity.
Happening to me. Lots of it too. I'll post more when I get a chance.
I was impressed by the sheer number of religious symbols and bumper stickers plastered over the back of your vehicle.
And then you went and flipped me off.
You proclaim to believe in Jesus. Well, I believe in turn signals. Try using them next time, and maybe that and your righteously pure heart will inspire me to make room for you to change lanes in front of me.
Rebel officials and the Sudanese government committed themselves Friday to ending the 21-year civil war in southern Sudan before January, signing an agreement at a special meeting of the U.N. Security Council in Africa.Sudanese Vice President Ali Osman Taha and southern rebel leader John Garang, the main negotiators for the two sides, made a similar pledge last year that never came to fruition. But this is the first time the warring sides have put a deadline in writing before the U.N. panel.
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I'm not getting my hopes up too much.
Sudan's southern civil war has pitted the Islamic government against rebels seeking greater autonomy and a greater share of the country's wealth for the largely Christian and animist south. The conflict has left more than 2 million people dead, largely through war-induced hunger and disease.A conflict in the western Darfur region started in February 2003, when the government attempted to crush two non-Arab African rebel groups who took up arms to fight for more power and resources. The government responded by backing Arab militias now accused of targeting civilians in a campaign of murder, rape and arson.
Where have we heard this before? And for those who haven't been paying attention, the government has been known to send it's Air Force to bomb and strafe random villages in revenge attacks. Slavery is also rampant in the region. A thriving business has grown where Muslims from the north kidnap southern Christians and animists, forcing them to convert to Islam before selling them into servitude. A related industry functions as a conduit between those willing to pay ransoms (often clueless western Christian missionary groups) and slave owners.
Like I said, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
I've been waiting for someone to make the obvious joke.
Wouldn't it be more interesting if they played by "Aztec" rules? You know, where the losing team gets ritually sacrificed at the end of the game. I'd watch that.
...unwinding after work, and recalled that PETA wants me to believe that fish are intelligent, feeling creatures and that we shouldn't eat them. Just then, a Guorami swam by with a string of poop twice his body length trailing from his little fishy butt.
Sorry guys, no sale.
A fourth of all Californians are thinking about moving — either out of state or just to another town — to bring down their housing costs, a new survey shows.
I grew up in San Jose, California. In the mid 70's my parents sold their house and we moved into a brand new and very nice double-wide mobile home. In the mid 80's my folks sold that place for nearly three times what they paid for it new. Mobile-freakin'-homes appreciate in California!
only 19 percent of the state's households can afford the state's median-priced home of $465,000. That's a 5 percent drop from a year ago. Nationally, the median-priced home — where half cost more and half cost less — was $186,600 in September.
I love California, but I've never wanted to go back. The insane cost of housing there has always been a major factor in that.
Back to back tracks on a CD full of love songs:
"Kiss the Girl" from Disney's Little Mermaid
"Damn, I Wish I Were Your Lover" by Sophie B. Hawkins
I was offered up to three little kittens at work today. I told the lady that I appreciated the offer, but I already had two house dogs and they wouldn't know how to deal with live food.
My very first ever "official" poll, over on the right column. I needed something to tabulate the thousands of votes submitted so far, although "Viagra" and "Human Growth Hormone" weren't valid choices and were immediately eliminated. Hey, is it ok for a guy to say his box was stuffed?
And I just had to add Spork's suggestion. Wish I'd have thought of that one!
So vote away, and unlike some elections, it's expected that you'll vote more than once. C'mon, feed my ego. Carryout dreams are depending on you.
He just won his seventh MVP award (fourth in a row, both records), without any real protection behind him in the Giants lineup. He's third on the all-time home run list, and will certainly pass Babe Ruth this season and could make a serious run at Hank Aaron. The man gets walked intentionally more than some teams over the course of a season. His mere presence at the ballpark automatically influences the game, which no other player currently playing can say (and few in history for that matter).
And for those who think he might have cheated to accomplish this, a sportswriter puts it as well as anyone I've ever read:
Yet in the absence of positive tests on Bonds and the lack of convictions in the ongoing investigation, the only conclusive evidence is the fact that Bonds is doing things at bat that simply can't be attributed to any known drug.There isn't a steroid in the world that can account for his patience at the plate as he waits for hittable pitches, or his uncanny solid contact with the ball when he does swing. His body armor lets him hug the plate, and his short, compact swing is the deadliest in the game.
Bonds has two seasons left on his contract in San Fransisco, and he'll break the home run record sometime in that span. After that, if he wanted to he could sign on with an American League team (Yankees anyone?) and play DH for another ten years. Nine hundred homers isn't out of the question. I honestly don't think he'd go that route, but the possibility is there and kinda fun to consider.
Lionel Trains files for bankruptcy!
Not so fast though, there's this:
M.T.H., owner of Columbia, Md.-based Mike's Train House, accused Lionel and a South Korean subcontractor, Korea Brass, of getting drawings and plans for the toy train that were stolen from M.T.H. subcontractor Samhongsa, also based in South Korea.
A jury found Lionel guilty, and it's the awarded judgement that's driving the bankruptcy notice. Very sad, every aspect of this is very sad.
Rocket Jones got a comment that I won't reprint here (it's deleted now), but the gist was that I've been voted one of the 100 worst websites on the net. If I want to rebut, blah blah blah, send an email to (hotmail address).
Note to commenter: Gee, thanks for the opportunity to get on your spam mailing list, but no thanks. Thanks also for assuming that I'm an idiot, and while we're on the subject, you can kiss my ass. Thank you.
Note to everyone else: If I *were* voted one of the 100 worst, you can bet I'd be doing the happy dance and shouting it from the rooftops.
Safe for work, but in the extended entry anyway.
Thanks to Kimochi-ii for the pic (that link is not safe for work!)
Burger King's newest ad campaign is the chicken fight between two guys in chicken suits. One is crispy, the other spicy (or some such nonsense). Good to know that they haven't raised their standards since the days of Herb.
No news there, eh?
Actually, I mentioned that I'm having some computer problems. I managed to track it down, and am now running a complete hours-long system scan (I'm posting from my wife's PC). My son generously agreed to purchase the latest and greatest anti-virus software for my PC - let's say he has a vested interest in that, and he won't be visiting certain places on the 'net anymore - but my machine was boinked enough to fight back during the attempted installation. I expect eventual success, but it could be messy and will take some time.
ROFLMAO Mookie just wandered by, read over my shoulder, patted me on the shoulder and said, "Problems can be solved. Issues can't."
Mookie posted a bunch of juvenile but funny condom ads. She also has them stuck all over one of her school folders. She just stopped by to show me her latest addition, the "Condom Fairy", complete with magic wand and irredescent butterfly wings.
As explained to me, "The Condom Fairy stops by in the middle of the night and leaves presents for all the naughty boys and girls."
She comes by it honestly.
Someone put various Thanksgiving decorations up on our office doors. Mine has a turkey.
How redundant.
If Isreal sent a representative, I bet his instructions included poking the body to make sure the sonuvabitch is really dead.
After threatening to "take down" the Ohio State football program during the NCAA investigation caused by Clarett's inability to tell the truth, the nitwit has now come out with a series of charges against his former school.
The school's reaction? Ho hum.
You see, everything that Clarett is alledging was investigated as part of his original troubles. The school was cleared by the NCAA. He seems to think that this time he can hurt them by producing a corroborating witness, a former linebacker from the team. Only problem is, the linebacker is parrotting the same charges, and was thrown off the team for drug possesion. Sounds like an axe to grind to me.
In my view, Ohio State has been trying to do the right thing all through this, and Maurice Clarett refuses to grow up and act like a responsible human being. He reminds me of that player "Leon" in those beer commercials, where it's all about "me, me, me" and nothing is ever his own fault.
I guess the part of this that really burns me up is that he's talented, so someone in the NFL will draft him and pay him millions of dollars. And he'll keep right on being a dick.
Sorry for the tease, there is no video link available.
I am rather proud of that "light sabre through an Ewok" line though, so I suggest pondering that image if you're that disappointed. For raising of spirits, imagine it's Princess Leia weilding that light sabre in her brass bikini.
Wouldn't it be fun to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times that said:
Ok, we admit it.You already suspected, but Dubya really screwed up when he called Karl Rove "the Architect", and now the cat is out of the bag.
We gotcha! Ever hear the saying, "Bet big or stay at home?" You were so busy looking for all those hidden conspiracies that you didn't see the great big one right in front of you.
That's right, there was no fraud committed during the election. We just plain ol' reelected George W. Bush because we knew it would piss you off, and y'all are fun to watch when you rant and rave and foam at the mouth.
Can't move to Canada either, 'cause they were in on it too.
Don't you feel stupid?
Bill and Hillary helped. Or didn't, depending on your viewpoint.
Oh yeah, some of you are saying you should all go out and arm yourselves for the revolution. Please do. What with the National Firearms Registration Database and background checks and waiting periods that you insisted on, well, they make dandy tools to help identify the ones we really want to keep an eye on.
So to sum up, the election was a huge elaborate joke on you. Every last person that voted for President Bush knew about it. In fact, we held secret meetings just so we could laugh our asses off at how oblivious you were.
That kinda explains that smirk y'all hate too, don't it?
Yep. We're all stupid. How's it feel to be dumber than us?
Four. More. Years.
Sincerely,
Uncle Karl
Doctors Fight To Keep Arafat AliveWho else wonders if French doctors fight as hard as their army?
Seeya, Yasser!
...is for this story to be true: John Ashcroft to resign as AG. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!
Dawn gets it.
You are going to see me get more involved in my political party during the next four years.
Got that? Democratic Process. It's that thing where you make your points, and I make mine, and we discuss and debate and eventually everyone decides together which way we'll do it for a while. But if you choose to quit if you don't get your way, then not only are you contributing to the problem you're bitching about, but you're also telling me that it's your way or no way.
Really. Screw you then. Enjoy Canada. News flash: your viewpoint isn't the only one that counts, and all your whining and name-calling doesn't change that. It's not even all that interesting anymore. And while we're at it, did you ever stop to think that your "one way" worldview is exactly the same as totalitarianism? Probably not, or you might also realize that your worldview is almost certainly not the "one way" that would become mandatory.
Something else: if the reason you voted for your guy is because he wasn't the other guy, then you don't get to be outraged when others fail to see the second coming where you do. Making a choice based on negatives is a perfectly valid way to vote, but that doesn't infer any special qualities on your candidate. This election framed it perfectly: "Anybody But Bush" didn't work, because the "anybody" wasn't someone that most people could vote for.
So work with the system, push and protest and suggest solutions. Spare us all the theatrics and name calling. The system works, and it has for over two hundred years.
I'm in the top 20 if you Google "girls in superglue bondage". Just thought you'd like to know that.
Thanks to my lovely wife for passing these on.
Some of the musicians from the 60's are revising their hits with new lyrics to accommodate the aging baby boomers. This is good news for those feeling "a little older " and missing those great old tunes.
Herman's Hermits - "MRS. BROWN, YOU'VE GOT A LOVELY WALKER"
The Bee Gees - "HOW CAN YOU MEND A BROKEN HIP"
Bobby Darin - "SPLISH, SPLASH, I WAS HAVIN' A FLASH"
Ringo Starr - "I GET BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM DEPENDS"
Roberta Flack - "THE FIRST TIME EVER I FORGOT YOUR FACE"
Johnny Nash - "I CAN'T SEE CLEARLY NOW"
Paul Simon - "FIFTY WAYS TO LOSE YOUR LIVER"
Commodores - "ONCE, TWICE, THREE TIMES TO THE BATHROOM"
Marvin Gaye - "I HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPE NUTS"
Procol Harem - "A WHITER SHADE OF HAIR"
Leo Sayer - "YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE NAPPING"
The Temptations - "PAPA'S GOT A KIDNEY STONE"
ABBA - "DENTURE QUEEN"
The undefeated Fire Ants barely escaped with their record intact, squeaking by the Rockets in last week's Blogger Bowl matchup.
It's only a rumor that after they walked off the field in pity, we scored. Three plays later.
"Vote early and often" has become the equivalent of "Have a nice day". It quit being cute after the first four thousand times I heard it.
Work. Vote on the way home. Do a couple of loads of laundry tonight.
Maybe tomorrow or Tuesday. Short version: camera problems, computer problems, rocket problems. No biggie 'cause I had a badly-needed mondo-relaxing weekend. Big fun.
Dentist: "I'm determined to get this done today!"Me: "From your seat, it's easy to be determined."
When you have toddlers, and they reach that perfect age - it doesn't last long - and you walk through the door and they come running to give Daddy a hug. And basically you get a full-speed head butt right in the balls.
At that age, they're young enough to think you fell to the floor to play.
Red Sox win the world series. Let the whining begin anew until sometime after 2100.
My mind is going about a gazillion miles an hour this morning. Lots to do at work, my basement looks like a cold-war era missile maintenance shop, and I get to go see my dentist again this afternoon.
As I was pulling onto our street the other day, a old and beat up red ford mini-station wagon was coming out. It had those new spinning hubs. A bit of Mookie-wisdom: "Before spending hundreds of dollars tricking out your car, have a car worth more than hundreds of dollars."
This picture made me laugh.
My wife thinks it's unusual that I say things like "I ran out of epoxy". According to her, most people wouldn't use it up before it went bad. I'm waiting for a good moment to tell her that the next time I'm buying epoxy, I'm getting a gallon of resin, a quart of hardener, plus a bunch of extras like microballons and milled fiberglass. And for completeness' sake, I highly recommend this guy for all your adhesive needs.
Superglue. Most folks buy those little tiny containers, the hobby-grade stuff I use comes in 8 ounce bottles. Thick and thin viscosity too.
Since I seem to be stuck on the subject (*owww*), I was digging through my adhesives box, and noticed that I had:
Oldest daughter Robyn went to the hospital in an ambulance the other day. She collapsed at school and the doctors say it was dehrydration. My diagnosis is stupidity so I yelled at her on the phone to take better care of herself and we both felt better. So anyway, she's done at the hospital and gets a ride back to campus, walks into her room, and has this conversation with her roomie:
Roomie: "Were you really taken to the hospital?"Robyn: "Yeah."
Roomie: "I guess you don't wanna go out partying tonight."
Robyn: "Here's your sign."
I post something for my wife, just because.
Lady LoveLady love, your love is peaceful
Like the summer's breeze
My lady love, with love that's tender
As a baby's touch
You give me all of the things
That I need so much
You're my world, lady loveLady love, your love is cooling
Like the winter snow
My lady love, with love that's cozy
As a fire's glow
And I keep on needing you, girl
A little more and more
And I thank you, my lady loveYou know, it's not easy to keep love flowing smooth
People are people and they all have their moods
But it's so nice just to have someone like you
Who wants a smooth and easy thing
And all the good times that it bringsMy lady love, you've been with me
Through all of my ups and downs
My lady love, I once was lost
But now with you I'm found
You got the love I need
And I want to stay around
Heaven sent you down, my lady loveLet me tell you that it's not easy to keep love flowing smooth
You know, people are people, they all have their moods
But it's so nice just to have someone like you
Who wants a smooth and easy thing
And all the good times and the joy that it bringsMy lady love, you've been with me
Through all of my ups and downs
And my crazy turn-arounds
My lady love, you got the love I need
So stay around
Heaven sent my lady loveLady love, sweet lady love
You are so good to me
Lady love, like a warm summer breeze
(So glad I found my lady love, lady love)
(so glad I found my lady love, lady love)Written by V. Gray and S. Marshall
Performed by Lou Rawls
I've been tinkering with CSS lately at work, and using Rocket Jones and the Skunkworks as guinea pigs. This has been going on for quite a while, and the "Under Construction" signs will remain up for the forseeable future. So if you notice anything odd (like those damned gray boxes around various bits), well, it's me tweaking.
For some reason, I can twiddle and play at work but don't always see the changes until I get home.
Anyways, never mind the mad genius behind curtain #1, it's just me. Now maybe if I pull this level while twisting the that knob...
According to Mookie. As she explained it to me:
For the record, she was up disgustingly early too. Yesterday she spent almost nine hours doing Statistics homework, and today she's got Physics and an English essay. We got her interim report card last week, and her hard work is certainly paying off.
She's going to dress like an elf for the drama department's Christmas play too.
More than a year ago, we had a murder in the last house at the end of our row of townhouses. Two nitwits walked up to the living room window and opened fire on the guy inside. They shot the wrong man, the one they wanted wasn't home at the time.
Ok, I found the original posts on the old Blogspot site, and rather than deal with their linkhell, I'll repost 'em here:
July 6, 2003:
In January of this year, an execution-style murder happened on my block. We live in a row of 10 townhouses, and the shooting took place at the far end house. I heard the shots that night, and to me it sounded like a short string of firecrackers going off. That's what I told my wife (she heard it too), and that's what I told the police. The victim was sitting in the living room in front of the TV when someone walked up to the window and started blasting away, hitting him in the head.In today's paper is an article announcing the capture of the shooter. The case against him looks pretty solid, and this guy should go to prison for a long long time.
Good deal, eh?
Well, yeah... kinda. It turns out that the reason for the shooting was an earlier argument between two groups of people. According to the story, one man who lived in the house down the street (we'll call him 'Daddy') punched the shooter and split his lip, hence the return that evening for revenge.
The man who was killed was NOT the one who threw the punch! It was his roomie. In fact, he was sitting in the living room playing a video game with the young daughter of the guy who punched out the shooter. So daughter got to see up close and personal what Daddy had caused by losing his temper. Daddy had run to the store and wasn't home.
The other night, there was another fight at their house. This time, two women were trading punches in the front yard and street when the cops showed up. Daddy was outside with them, egging them on. Everyone involved was noticably high. The fun didn't end with the arrival of the police. They called for a female officer to do searches and wound up practically hogtying one of the women to keep her still. The subsequent search was interesting, as this woman is apparently a dealer, and they found a whole drugstore in her purse and in her car. Meanwhile, Daddy just kept being an asshole and instigating for all he was worth.
Here's the chilling part. The drug dealer, in front of the cops and everyone else, yells at Daddy that "next time they won't miss".
So now the whole neighborhood is uptight, and with damn good reason. Parents are afraid to let their kids outside, because if there's a real 'drive-by' next time, the bad guys won't be worrying about a kid on a bike, or someone walking the dog if they get in the way. It's a real shame too, because except for that one house (and resident idiots), and one other (best buds with the idiots), the neighborhood is pretty darned nice. I like my neighborhood. I like my neighbors.
I'm waiting for the cops to come out again. Apparently the owner has put the house up for sale (Daddy doesn't own it, but he's a relative of the owner - long story), and Daddy keeps taking the sign down. The realtor comes by and puts it back up. On and on, around and around.
Please God, let the house sell quickly. Please get those nitwits out of here before someone else loses their life. Not that I give a rat's ass about Daddy, but it always seems to be the innocent bystander that gets it too.
For those of you who look for silver linings, when the roomie died in January his mother recieved his kidneys and ended a decade of dialysis for her. Now that is a helluva silver lining.
July 10, 2003:
Today's paper had another article with more details, including the arrest of the driver of the getaway car. He was going to school at Virginia Tech, and police picked him up in campus housing. They're still looking for suspect #3, and although they don't give his name, I get the impression that they know exactly who it is.
That asswipe, "Daddy", did move, but we occasionally see him around the neighborhood. I talked to his ex-wife a while back, and she said things haven't gotten any better for him, nor for his daughter who's now a guest of the state juvenile authorities.
A munuvian recently discovered that the word "Cialis" was blacklisted and not allowed in our comments. Good deal. Except that, you can't spell "socialism" without "cialis". That gave me a couple ideas for new advertising slogans:
... or how about:
I'm kidding guys, put down the ice pick.
Here's the original. Add to the atmosphere.
Slept right through it. Laid down for a nap with instructions to wake me up in an hour. I must have been tired enough to say the heck with getting up and just kept on sleeping. Did I miss anything?
MicroSoft and Martha Stewart share the same initials! Coincidence? I think not.
Women drivers.
Thanks to Gordon Tatro for these.
I've been informed that wearing panties with SpongeBob Squarepants on them does not mean that you no longer need to wear feminine pads.
Excuse me for thinking like a guy.
Wasn't able to join the VP Debate chat last night. Wasn't even able to watch the debate (coverage seems rather neutral about it this morning - oops, is "rather neutral" an oxymoron?).
Blogging may be light for the next few weeks as real life has asserted itself. Then again, maybe you won't even notice.
Nowadays, a lot of elevators 'ding' at every floor so the visually impaired can tell where they are.
Wouldn't it be fun to replace that 'ding' with a relieved sounding "whew!"?
Imagine the look on the faces of those who hate riding in elevators.
I don't pretend to be any great philosopher or deep thinker, but I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about pacifism (thanks Nic!), and I'm beginning to sort some things out in my mind. Bear with me a moment while I try to lay this out in some way that makes a little sense.
Some time ago, I remember hearing a comedian talk about Indians doing a Rain Dance. He was wondering if they had a practice first and if they did, and it didn't rain, then how did you know if you did it right?
Pacifism strikes me as offering that same dilemma. You resolve to be peaceful above all - the ideal - and yet when the other guy does violence against you, your only option is more peacefulness. In fact, maybe you weren't peaceful enough and if you'd only try harder then they would get the idea. Except the violence happens again and again, and each time you vow to do better.
The trap lies in believing that everyone is basically good inside. Love thy neighbor. So when he refuses to react accordingly to your peaceful nature (why doesn't he understand?), then you start to look for reasons. And since the problem couldn't be him (you must believe in him), then the problem is you or something else. Nobody likes to admit that they're wrong (but you resolve to try harder just in case), so the problem must be an outside influence. And since the violence is still directed at your side, then it's a simple leap to believing that the blame lies completely on your side.
In nature, a weakness is always exploited. The weakest members of a herd are culled out by predators. A flaw in defence is used by another as an opening to attack. It's instinctive, but refining the tactic is a learned behavior.
Being a pacifist makes you an easy target, but eventaully it is realized by "the bad guys" that you're useful in another way. You advocate for them, because you believe in them. They can't be evil, it must be us! PR is a learned behavior too.
Ghandi was able to use peace as a tool to achieve his goals. Martin Luther King Jr did the same. But in both cases, they were making their points against a culture and society that was already somewhat civilized. The British and American cultures already tended towards peaceful behavior. We've seen no such tendencies from the terrorists in today's world. You can't explain away shooting children in the back. How can you understand the ability to blow up innocent people during their prayers? There's not enough love in the world to change the mind of someone who believes that killing you is what his God wants him to do.
I really want to see peace in the world, and I hope that someday it'll happen (but I don't think it will for a long, long time, if ever). I hope that those who believe in pacifism keep their wits about them and don't fall into the traps inherent in their worldview. I hope for the best but prepare for the worst, because I've learned to be a realist in life. Sometimes, no matter how well you dance, it doesn't rain because it's just not ready to rain.
Welcome to Uncle Sam's Fiscal Year 2005. Let's hope it's more sane than the one just ended.
And most of them are wearing Cubs uniforms.
Muwhahahahahahahahaha
The other day Mookie and I were riding along in the car, and we were discussing the number of nutcase drivers on the road. I conceived the RCI (Rectal/Cranial Insertion) Index to give an idea of just how screwed up and dangerous some of these loons are. I may give updates as we refine the system.
Wife Liz headed off to Michigan this morning to deliver a new PC to oldest daughter Robyn. Her laptop went kaput, and one thing you can't live without in college these days is a computer. Since I have the credit card that allows 12 months payment with no interest, we wound up buying it here and have to take it up there. Kinda like that christmas light that wouldn't light on one side.
Of course, that still leaves me with the boy (who's working now, but still job-hunting for a 'real' job) and Mookie. So no dancing around in my underwear for the forseeable future.
Jeanne (or however you spell her name) the hurricane came through yesterday and dumped mucho water on our area. This morning I have some minor flooding in the basement. Not too awful bad, but enough to have to take the day off from work to deal with it.
See you this evening after all the fun and excitement is over. Or maybe tomorrow.
Probably like most people, I had no true comprehension of what reincarnation really implies, until I read this bit of a story (in the extended entry):
AND it was at the hour of sunset that they came to the foot of the mountain. There was in that place no sign of life,--neither token of water, nor trace of plant, nor shadow of flying bird,--nothing but desolation rising to desolation. And the summit was lost in heaven.Then the Bodhisattva said to his young companion:--"What you have asked to see will be shown to you. But the place of the Vision is far; and the way is rude. Follow after me, and do not fear: strength will be given you."
Twilight gloomed about them as they climbed. There was no beaten path, nor any mark of former human visitation; and the way was over an endless heaping of tumbled fragments that rolled or turned beneath the foot. Sometimes a mass dislodged would clatter down with hollow echoings;--sometimes the substance trodden would burst like an empty shell. . . . Stars pointed and thrilled;--and the darkness deepened.
"Do not fear, my son," said the Bodhisattva, guiding: "danger there is none, though the way be grim."
Under the stars they climbed,--fast, fast,--mounting by help of power superhuman. High zones of mist they passed; and they saw below them, ever widening as they climbed, a soundless flood of cloud, like the tide of a milky sea.
Hour after hour they climbed;--and forms invisible yielded to their tread with dull soft crashings;--and faint cold fires lighted and died at every breaking.
And once the pilgrim-youth laid hand on a something smooth that was not stone,--and lifted it,--and dimly saw the cheekless gibe of death.
"Linger not thus, my son!" urged the voice of the teacher;--"the summit that we must gain is very far away!"
On through the dark they climbed,--and felt continually beneath them the soft strange breakings,--and saw the icy fires worm and die,--till the rim of the night turned grey, and the stars began to fail, and the east began to bloom.
Yet still they climbed,--fast, fast,--mounting by help of power superhuman. About them now was frigidness of death,--and silence tremendous. . . . A gold flame kindled in the east.
Then first to the pilgrim's gaze the steeps, revealed their nakedness;--and a trembling seized him,--and a ghastly fear. For there was not any ground,--neither beneath him nor about him nor above him,--but a heaping only, monstrous and measureless, of skulls and fragments of skulls and dust of bone,--with a shimmer of shed teeth strown through the drift of it, like the shimmer of scrags of shell in the wrack of a tide.
"Do not fear, my son!" cried the voice of the Bodhisattva;--"only the strong of heart can win to the place of the Vision!"
Behind them the world had vanished. Nothing remained but the clouds beneath, and the sky above, and the heaping of skulls between,--upslanting out of sight.
Then the sun climbed with the climbers; and there was no warmth in the light of him, but coldness sharp as a sword. And the horror of stupendous height, and the nightmare of stupendous depth, and the terror of silence, ever grew and grew, and weighed upon the pilgrim, and held his feet,--so that suddenly all power departed from him, and he moaned like a sleeper in dreams.
"Hasten, hasten, my son!" cried the Bodhisattva: "the day is brief, and the summit is very far away."
But the pilgrim shrieked,--
"I fear! I fear unspeakably!--and the power has departed from me!"
"The power will return, my son," made answer the Bodhisattva . . . . . "Look now below you and above you and about you, and tell me what you see."
"I cannot," cried the pilgrim, trembling and clinging;--"I dare not look beneath! Before me and about me there is nothing but skulls of men."
"And yet, my son," said the Bodhisattva, laughing softly,--"and yet you do not know of what this mountain is made."
The other, shuddering, repeated:--
"I fear!--unutterably I fear! . . . there is nothing but skulls of men!"
"A mountain of skulls it is," responded the Bodhisattva. "But know, my son, that all of them ARE YOUR OWN! Each has at some time been the nest of your dreams and delusions and desires. Not every one of them is the skull of any other being. All,--all without exception,--have been yours, in the billions of your former lives."
Iran is surrounded by our allies (not to mention having a population restless for revolution), and North Korea is, by anyone's definition, massively delusional and capable of anything, which makes them less than ideal for our next target in the War on Terror. Since preemption is the concept of the times, I propose a next step that is both bold and preemptive against a re-emergent threat to US security.
We should invade and conquer France.
France has been self-described as "possibly the world's first Islamic nuclear power." Sounds pretty ominous to me. Their military is better than Iraq's was (barely) although stretched woefully thin around the world. Not to mention badly underequipped. Aircraft carriers don't actually need aircraft you know, because that costs money that could be better spent paying farmers their bribes to stay home and not make trouble subsidies.
Eastern Europe (you know, the 'new' one) would be loudly cheering us on. If Spain fusses, we send three cranky WWII vets with hand grenades into their subway system and change their government. And we keep doing it until they elect one we like.
Belgium would tie itself in knots in EU red tape while it tried to figure out what to do. Face it, nobody does indignation like the French, and no matter how hard they try, the Flems and Walloons place a distant second. We can ignore them.
Britain would stay quietly neutral, but I'll betcha that Maggie Thatcher's smiling face will miraculously appear somewhere as reported in the Weekly World News.
Russia would get the message too. Maybe we could soften the reality of the situation by sending Jimmy Carter over for "discussions and consultations", with tacit approval to jail his cardiganned ass when he becomes too annoying to stand. Hell, I'd nominate Putin for the Nobel Peace Prize for that one.
Now some would argue that NATO wouldn't allow it. My response is: "what are they going to do about it?" If they actually wanted to do anything, like say, fight, they'd have to walk to get to the battle, because Europe's armies depend on US Military airlift capabilities. Commercial airliners? Threaten to drop a few Lufthansa Airbusses into the dirt and watch how quickly their fleets would be grounded for maintenance problems. That's assuming, of course, that they can get union approval for war.
Now, once that's all done and over with, we need to do something in order to show old Europe that we're not all stick and no carrot. Like moving the UN to Paris. And making Kerry our ambassador to the UN.
The owner of the Florida Panthers professional hockey team will lose an estimated 10 million dollars by shutting down for the entire season. If they played, his losses would be somewhere around 18 million dollars.
How freaking stupid does the NHL players union have to be to not understand that there's a serious problem if the owners are better off financially with a lockout? Oh, they'll lose money all right, but they'll lose less money.
Vultures fighting over a corpse.
There you are on a beautiful spring day, having a picnic. Fresh air, good food, great company, and then...
(in the extended entry)
Darn, her fried chicken was pretty tasty too.
Walking may protect elderly men from dementia.
Elderly men who are sedentary or walk less than a quarter of a mile per day are nearly twice as likely to develop dementia and Alzheimer's disease compared to men who walk more than two miles per day.
Anyway, the headline made me think of this joke (in the extended entry because of indelicate language):
A man takes his wife in to see the doctor, and they're discussing the test results afterwards."Well," says the doctor, "I've narrowed it down. Your wife either has AIDS or Alzheimers."
The guy looks puzzled and asks, "So what do I do now?"
The doctor says, "Go for a long drive this weekend, and drop her off about 10 miles outside of town. If she makes it back home, don't fuck her."
The weather is turning cool in the evenings, so it's time to start thinking about the gardens again. This fall I want to get rid of my last rose, but it's just too beautiful to just dig up and throw away. Here's a picture showing the blooms. She's a climbing rose, and as long as you keep snipping the spent blooms she keeps going with waves of buds through to late summer. I prune her back hard every fall, and by the next summer she's climbed her way back up the trellis and reaches 8'-12' feet tall. She's touchy about black spot, like most roses, but a weekly spray of orthonex keeps her looking great.
If someone in the metro DC area wants this rose, I'd be happy to give her to you. I'll prune her back and deliver bare root sometime before November so you can get her settled in before frost. The sooner the better.
One way or another, she's outta here because I need to clear the spot she's in, and I don't have a good place to transplant her to. Here's your chance to pick up a showstopper of a climber. Let me know in the comments or email me, either way, because I'd really like to find her a good home.
Or is that Miss Hockey?
(in the extended entry)
Salt and pepper.
Peanut Butter and jelly.
Ham and eggs.
Pirate and rocket launcher, natch.
These lyrics always struck me as more than a little kinky:
PUPPET MAN
Fifth DimensionBaby, baby you know it's true
I'm a puppet just for you
I'll do anything you say
I won't have it any other way
Take my heart and take my soul
Giving you complete control
If you wanna see me do my thing
Pull my string, pull my string
Puppet man, puppet manBaby, baby I'm your sweet pet
Just your personal marionette
Wind me up and let me go
don't you know I'm a one-man show
Raise your finger and I'll perform
I'll cracker Jack till the crack of dawn
If you wanna see me do my thing
Pull my string
Puppet man, puppet manBaby, baby I'm more than you need
Satisfaction guaranteed
Any time you feel uptight
I'm at your service
Morning, noon and night
Do what you want me to
I'm a puppet just for you
If you wanna see me do my thing
Pull my string
Puppet man, puppet man
Hurricane Ivan reached our little corner of the world this afternoon and evening and immediately started raising hell. Literally dozens of tornadoes spawned off and tore through the area, and at one point the weatherman was warning folks to just assume that every cloud rotation on the radar was on the ground.
At least one was referred to as the "Dale City" tornado, which is where we live. It passed within a mile of us, to the east. Liz had the kids ready to go to the basement on her say-so. Me? I was napping on the couch, I assume she would've woke me up too. Then again, maybe she upped my insurance recently without telling me...
Round two of Ivan is almost upon us. Happy happy, joy joy.
Japanese baseball players have voted to strike despite last-minute attempts to negotiate a settlement. The players want to postpone for one year the merging of two teams in the Pacific Division, which would result in an imbalance between the divisions (the other division would have six teams). Also, approximately 100 players and front office workers would lose their jobs. Owners maintain that the Kintetsu Buffaloes are losing $36 million a year and need to be merged with the Orix Blue Wave.
This is probably the most polite strike I've ever heard of. Both the player union rep and the owners have come out and apologized to the fans, and the league commisioner has stepped down for not being able to avert the strike.
Oh yeah, the strike only affects weekend games. All baseball during the week will continue on schedule.
In "Ted's Universe", Fire Engines would be about twice as big, have 4-foot wide tracks instead of wheels and a big honkin' snowplow blade on front. If you can't hear the sirens over your freakin' stereo, then they'll either move you themselves or go right over the top. I'd pay money to see that.
Taking a step into policy-land (since I'm fantasizing here), if you do get injured while being "displaced" by an emergency vehicle, then emergency help would be sent - AFTER - the original call is handled. If you're too stupid to get out of the way of a hootin' and screamin' behemoth bearing down on you, then it shouldn't be a priority to save your miserable contribution to the gene pool.
No, I'm not in a bad mood. Why do you ask?
I watched the World Cup finals last night between Canada and Finland, and between the first and second period they interviewed the head of the players union and the owners representative.
Millionaires arguing with millionaires over who gets a nickel extra before they collectively destroy the league. At least the owner's guy had the decency to acknowlege that this was going to hurt people like concessionaires and ushers, rink workers and back office personnel (the scalpers! who's thinking about the poor scalpers?!?!? ... sorry). When that was mentioned to the player's rep his response was basically "the owners are trying to screw the players". Self-centered bastards. Not that I'm sympathetic to the owners either. Both sides refuse to budge, and I'm so frustrated that I just want to knock heads and pound some perspective into their thick skulls.
Here's an idea: top salary = $4M a year, minimum salary = $1M a year. Teams have salary cap and salary floor (minimum required). Owners guaranteed a profit. Ticket prices are reduced and capped. Extra money; $1M a year to player pension fund (increase if it's already more), and increase advertising and youth hockey outreach programs. Hey, get the NASCAR people in there to pump some life back into hockey.
Silly? You bet. I'm no expert, I don't even play one on the internet. I'm just a pissed off fan.
The Finns played 'em tough, but Canada wins the World Cup of Hockey, 3-2. Great game.
Apricot preserves on whole-wheat Ritz crackers. Yowza!
Ritz cracker blogging, how low can you go?
I'll never own any of their products or use their services, just because their commercials insult my intelligence and piss me off.
Canada over Czech Republic, 4-3 in OT. What a game!!!!
I'm not "getting over it". I'm not "moving on".
I drive past the Pentagon each and every work day. People I worked with have had to take the anthrax antidote. My mail at work had to be irradiated before I could open it.
The uncertainty and fear of that unforgettable day are gone. Even if I don't know specific faces, I know in a general way who the enemies are. I also understand that they want to hurt my family, and the more brutal the method the better in their eyes.
I mourn every innocent life lost, and I celebrate every terrorist death, although none of them can die slowly enough to satisfy me. I also rejoice in the fact that for every victim murdered, for every soldier that makes the ultimate sacrifice, many many more of them have died. They may be many, with new volunteers recruited every day, but attrition is on our side.
We are winning.
I'm going to spend today with my wife and kids. We're going to do ordinary things. Not because we want to go back to the obliviousness of the pre-9/11 world, but because we refuse to let those bastards take even a single day of our lives away from us. That's part of winning too.
We've got the one, Mookie, still at home, but our son is back from the Navy and temporarily staying with us. Oldest daughter is home from college for the weekend, so for the first time in quite a while we've got a full house again.
I'm really looking forward to experiencing this 'empty nest syndrome' that I keep hearing about.
According to intrepid cub reporter Anonymous Kyle, he received a hand-delivered note announcing the "possibility" of cleaning of the "refrigrator" [sic] tomorrow.
Breathlessly, Kyle continues:
the nog is in jeopardy...
*Wondering what the hell I'm blathering on about? Read the beginning of the saga here, and continuing episodes here and here (and many many more besides).
Previous taglines are all stashed over at the Tagline Archive.
Here's hoping that President Clinton has successful heart bypass surgury and a swift recovery. May he have a long life spent annoying the hell out of me.
Also, my thoughts and prayers are with the children and victims of the hostage situation in Russia. I'm sickened and disgusted by the actions of the terrorists, and my heart is hardened towards the cause of their independence and the people who support them.
Likewise, to the people of Nepal, who watched as twelve of their citizens were butchered by cowards hiding behind a false religion. You have my sympathies, and my respect for the manner in which you've steadfastly refused to be influenced by barbarism.
Canada just handed Slovakia their ass in the World Cup, 5-1.
Please? August has been one less-than-wonderful month around the ol' homestead.
That certainly describes Rocket Jones lately. I've been a tad busy, so a lot of recent posts are full of quickie links sprayed around like some manic link-sprinkler. Yeah, that's me - a link-sprinkler!
Today I met up with a friend from my old workplace. We had some lunch, and he says "you been smoking crack?" because I've lost some more weight. It's been slow and steady for me, so I don't really notice it other than clothing-wise. Even if he was just being nice, I appreciated the comment. The crack helps too.
Since the spammers have refined the word randomizer routines they use, some of their 'from' names and subject lines have been pretty entertaining. This one was too good not to share:
Need a lover to enjoy this weekend with ,? That person you want to find is here ,. bacterial infantry
Like they say: if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right...
(in the extended entry)
I'm reading a weird little book titled "The Planet Mars and It's Inhabitants" by one Eros Urides who supposedly lived on Mars for a time. It's a whackjob book, the kind you find on UFO sites and the like, usually listed as 'true but suppressed important works'. I tried digging up more information on it, but all Googles lead to the sites that present it as non-fiction.
In the book, Eros Urides describes a utopian Mars where spirituality is part of the very fabric of life. Mars is 100% Christian, and much preaching ensueth within. But one passage kind of tweaks at me:
As all property is considered as belonging to the Father, and is held in common by the people of the planet, there exists no incentive for anyone to steal. Each individual has all he requires for his comfort.
We've had the power go out twice now in the last two nights as strong thunderstorms moved through the area. In the last fifteen years, I'd wager that we haven't lost electricity more than twenty times total, which makes this notable.
Our electric co-op NOVEC, is also incredibly efficient at restoring power when it does fail. A typical outtage lasts 10 minutes, and an hour or more is something worthy of neighborhood conversation.
Atta boy NOVEC, even though you've deprived me of a good excuse to sleep in on work days.
We keep hearing about Allawi and Sadr and foreign "insurgents", but nobody talks about that irrelevent old man anymore.
Except when the subject of the death penalty comes up.
I'm sitting there, trying to use our universal remote to turn the volume up on the TV, and managing to do everything but. My wife is greatly amused, and I finally hand her the remote and tell her to deal with it. She does, with about four seemingly random button presses (and a dozen silent spells I'm sure).
She smiles and says, "it's not rocket science."
"Exactly, which is why I can't figure it out!"
I get up and leave the room. TV. Who needs it?
Traffic was outrageously cooperative this morning, I made the Dale City to Rosslyn run in 20 minutes. The only time I had to slow was going through the Springfield mixing bowl, and slowing down meant 60mph. On top of that, it's a beautiful cool morning, so I put the windows down and cranked up the stereo.
It turned out that this morning's randomly-selected CD was perfect for the drive. Check out this lineup:
Deep Purple - Smoke On The Water
Deep Purple - Woman From Tokyo
Foghat - Fool For The City
Foghat - I Just Want To Make Love To You
Foghat - Slow Ride
Gary Wright - Dream Weaver
Gary Wright - Love Is Alive
Little Feat - Rock & Roll Doctor
Little Feat - Spanish Moon
Styx - Lady
Styx - Renegade
Uriah Heep - Sweet Loraine
Uriah Heep - The Wizard
Steely Dan - Do It Again
Steely Dan - Reelin' In The Years
Santana - Samba Pa Ti
Santana - Black Magic Woman
Santana - Oye Como Va
Now, I obviously didn't hear them all this morning. In fact, as I was pulling into the parking garage the first Gary Wright song was just coming on, which made me think of something. That disk is basically a 70's era stoner soundtrack*. I can just see it: someone scores a bag and a few friends gather 'round the bong, getting high and listening to some tunes.
I am so gonna jam on the drive home.
*For the record: I didn't smoke dope in high school, I was always the straight-but-cool friend. I keep telling y'all, I'm boring.
Rocket Jones the blog sucks lately. For many good reasons, including the new job. Even my recreational reading has been dominated by technical books. Ever relax to "An Introduction to SELinux"? Boy howdy, talk about riveting.
So I haven't had the time to devote online that I used to, and this site has inevitably suffered. I'm not apologizing, just stating the facts as I see 'em. I'm also not considering shutting down, I have too much fun with this.
I don't get to visit the places on my blogroll nearly as much as I used to, and that bites because I feel like I'm losing touch a little bit with good friends.
On the plus side, I've got a whole heap of fun movies to review, a surprise for some of you, and of course the whole Blogger Bowl 2004 league. The draft results are in, annika is trash talking (and we Raiders fans can talk some shit), and, well, let's just say that I've got some things in the works. Not earth-shaking stuff, but stuff.
In other words, keep checking back for continued blogging ala Rocket Jones. It may suck, but it's my suck.
It's been awhile since I've posted a love song to my beloved. She doesn't read Rocket Jones, but word gets back to her.
Dust On The Bottle
(David Lee Murphy/Jimbeau Hinson)Creole Williams lived down a dirt road
Made homemade wine like nobody I know
Dropped by one Friday night and said can you help me Creole
Got a little girl waitin' on me and I wanna treat her rightI got what you need son, it's sittin down in the cellar
He reached through the cobwebs as he turned on the light and saidThere might be a little dust on the bottle
But don't let it fool ya about what's inside
There might be a little dust on the bottle
It's one of those things that gets sweeter with timeShe was sittin in the porch swing as I pulled up the driveway
My ole heart was racing as she climbed inside
She slid over real close and drove down to the lake road
Watched the sun fade in that big red skyI reached under the front seat and said, now here's something special
It's just been waiting for a night like tonightThere might be a little dust on the bottle
But don't let it fool ya about what's inside
There might be a little dust on the bottle
It's one of those things that gets sweeter with timeYou're still with me, and we've made some memories
After all these years theres one thing I've found
Some say good love, well it's like a fine wine
It keeps getting better as the days go byThere might be a little dust on the bottle
But don't let it fool ya about what's inside
There might be a little dust on the bottle
It's one of those things that gets sweeter with time
Denmark has forbidden Kellogg's from adding vitamins and minerals to the breakfast cereals sold in that country.
They claim the additions result in "toxic doses" which could harm children and unborn children. Kellogg's additions include 17% of the US recommended daily requirements calcium and iron, and 25% of vitamins B6 and folic acid. Denmark does not have recommended daily allowances of nutrients.
Rather than turn this into some dark anti-American conspiracy, I'll believe the simpler explanation. The Danish government are idiots. Probably not enough vitamins in their diet growing up.
Yesterday I had a complete physical because I'll be 45 years old soon. My last checkup happened when I turned 40, and isn't what the title of this post is about. According to the official doctor scale, I am now under 300 pounds and have lost 40 pounds since the first of the year. I'd hit that plateau and hadn't lost anything for a while, but just kept up the diet and it looks like I'm dropping the pounds again. The doctor agreed with me when I said my goal is 220, which is higher than the 'recommended' but reasonable for my build.
As for my condition, I am disgustingly healthy despite myself, with good blood pressure. Blood work will be done saturday at the lab, mainly for a diabetes check, count the cholesterol (should be fine), and whatever else they look for (mad cow?).
Here's a tip for you Bill: find a pretty lady doctor with small hands. That part of the exam isn't any more fun than before, but you can pretend it's foreplay.
Everyone, and I mean both sides, claim the media is biased against them. Gee, I wonder whatever could they mean?
Check out this headline from the AP:
AP: U.S. Didn't Warn Las Vegas of Threats
Wow. Reading on:
When the Justice Department obtained two videos suggesting terrorists had cased Las Vegas casinos, the discussions didn't center on public alerts or heightened security. Rather, authorities worried about the effects on tourism and the casinos' legal liabilities, internal memos show.
There's more!
Though the FBI offered, most local law enforcement and casino security officers declined an invitation to view the footage after it was obtained in 2002
One document obtained by The Associated Press quotes a federal prosecutor in Las Vegas as saying the city's mayor was concerned about the "deleterious effect on the Las Vegas tourism industry" if the evidence became public. The mayor said Monday he was never told of the footage.Another memo states the casinos didn't want to see the footage for fear it would make them more likely to be held liable in civil court if an attack occurred.
Passed on peacefully at age 96. She made over 100 movies in her career, but was most famous for her role in King Kong, where the mighty ape carried her to the top of the Empire State Building in New York City.
In tribute, the lights on the spire of the Empire State Building will be dimmed tonight.
I'm still dragging tail-feathers after the last week, but last night I made a list of things I needed to take care of today.
This morning as I was stripping the beds to wash the linens, I found that one of the dogs (and I know exactly which one) peed on my pillow sometime after I'd gotten up. I assume he's showing his displeasure with me about the long hours of being left alone all week. The family is out of town, and I've been leaving early and coming home late during the rocket launch.
So I grabbed the dog and rubbed his face in it, then tossed him outside. Downstairs in the pantry was another puddle, so I had to do it again. At one point, I walked into the kitchen to check something off of my to-do list and stepped in another wet spot.
That did it, stronger measures were called for. One of the things on my list was to change the water in the dog bowl, but what I actually wrote was "water dogs". What a wonderful idea.
So I grabbed both dogs, took them out front and turned the hose on 'em, which they hate. Soaked 'em both really good, then left them to sit outside and think about it.
An hour later I let them back in one at a time, meeting them at the door with a towel and another stern talking-to. They've been on their best behavior since.
Very. Toon.
(in the extended entry)
PeopleSoft is the product that put me out of my last job. You could say that I'm amused by this news: PeopleSoft profits down 70% last quarter.
But, we were told it would solve all of our problems! And after using their worthless crappola software products, I would rather have a vinegar and ground glass enema can't imagine why people aren't lined up to be bent over like we were to use their systems.
Of course they know exactly what the problem is. It's someone else's fault!
...weak demand that the business software maker blamed on distractions caused by rival Oracle’s $7.7bn takeover bid.
Two more inbred mouth-breathers left comments on this post about Michael Moore. The DNC must have the extremists all stirred up, and I can just imagine them wrapping extra tin foil around their heads to ward off the deadly rays while they tax their googling skills.
Just to find Rocket Jones and leave comments like that.
Maybe I'm being too subtle for these nitwits, because they're sure taking it seriously.
[cheap shot at the Kennedy family removed]
On the other hand, Paul probably finds those comments refreshing. Ahhhh, balance is restored.
It's bad enough when someone remakes a song and screws it up, but to do it to yourself...
Seals & Crofts have redone Summer Breeze, and call it Summer Breeze 2004. It's heavy on the synth and electro bass beat, and sounds like a bad garage dub. They must need the money.
"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." -- Lewis Carroll
I received an email asking why only the ladies were invited to join the Hot Jets cheerleaders, and all I could do was grunt, scratch and ponder.
Ok guys, there's your invitation. Wanna be a cheerleader for the Blogger Bowl 2004 team with the bestest lady cheerleaders? Just email me (address on the right bar) and you're all set. See how easy that is? Just because the ladies went through an excruciatingly detailed personal history questionaire - Susie fogged up my glasses twice - which was followed by an extensive background check (and secret photos too! but I'm not sharing those). Y'all are just guys, you just have to sign up.
I'm not at the same level as Bill, but can I milk a concept or what?
"The enemy is not just 'terrorism'. It is the threat posed specifically by Islamic terrorism."[emphasis theirs]
-- Final Report of the 9/11 Commission, as reported by the Wall Street Journal
I found a spam in my email this morning that tickled my funny bone. The subject was:
Qcute Teen Girl Sexed Up Inertially
In Ted's Universe, when the ladies are walking to work and they're wearing a nice skirt, and instead of heels or strappy shoes they're wearing white sneakers and socks (for comfort I guess), well, I like that.
I had Vietnamese food yesterday for lunch, which was a first. Remember that scene in the original Carrie where Piper Laurie is telling Sissy Spacek about sinful, evil sex with her drunken husband? She got that creepy wild smile and said, "and I liked it!" Yep, that was my reaction.
No momma, please. Not the closet...
A lot of people don't have contact email addresses on their blogs. Lots of folks who do, have outdated or broken ones. Just something I've noticed lately.
So I'm in the recliner after dinner, having told my wife that I'm going to close my eyes for an hour, when the Martha Stewart news comes on the TV.
I startled the wife and both dogs as I came flying out of my chair when Martha Stewart actually compared herself to Nelson Mandella.
I'm trying to maintain some perspective, but it's hard when that condescending and sanctimonious bitch whines about how she's being treated.
Now you can get and cure the clap, all in one easy pill.
Just don't take it with beer (in the extended entry - safe for work).
Thanks for all the good wishes yesterday. The three of us went to a local dinner theater, Mookie was along as part of her (upcoming) birthday present. Like most places of the sort it's small, dark and intimate, and the actors and technical crew double as wait staff.
Our waitress was a nice lady who was only an understudy for this show, she told us her primary job was "chief electrician". Reading the actors bio's in the program, we found out that she'd appeared several times on the television series M*A*S*H as Nurse Able and also (more memorable to me) as Frank Burn's wife - remember the "home movie" where she wouldn't let him drive?
I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The food was fair (advertised as "Pennsylvania Dutch" style buffet - lots of dumplings and casseroles and such). The show was excellent: Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. This particular theater seems to specialize in musicals, and they have a pretty good cast for singing and dancing.
All in all, a nice day.
Gahan Wilson. You may recognize his style, if not the name. Wonderful cartoonist who appeared for years in Playboy and National Lampoon, among other publications that teenagers searched through looking for pictures of boobs.
I just finished lunch, a "spinach pocket" from a little coffee shop downstairs. It sounded intriguing. They took spinach and a whole bunch of mushrooms (more than I expected, but it was too late to tell 'em to hold them), threw it on the grill, topped it with a scoop of cottage cheese, then melted provolone over the top. Folded into a hot flatbread, it tasted better than it sounds.
Not that I'll be ordering it ever again.
A blonde and a lawyer are seated next to each other on a flight from LA to New York. The lawyer asks if she'd like to play a fun game. The blonde is tired and just wants to take a nap, so she politely declines. The lawyer persists and explains that the game is easy and lots of fun.
He explains, "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer you pay me $5.00, and vise versa." Again she declines and closes her eyes. The lawyer, now agitated, says, "Okay, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5.00, and if I don't know the answer I'll pay you $500.00."
This catches the blonde's attention and, figuring there will be no end to this torment unless she plays, agrees to the game.
The lawyer asks the first question. "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?"
The blonde doesn't say a word. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a fiver and hands it to the lawyer.
Okay says the lawyer, your turn.
She asks the lawyer, "What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?"
The lawyer, puzzled, thinks for a while and then takes out his laptop and searches all his references, no answer. He taps into the air phone with his modem and searches the internet and the Library of Congress, no answer. Frustrated, he sends emails to all his friends and co-workers, to no avail.
After an hour, he wakes the blonde and hands her $500.00. The blonde says, "Thank you", and turns back to get some more sleep.
The lawyer is more than a little miffed, so he wakes the blonde again and asks, "Well, what's the answer?"
Without a word, the blonde reaches into her purse, hands the lawyer $5.00, and goes back to sleep.
And you thought blondes were dumb.
Group A thinks that the way to reduce gun violence is through more education, while Group B wants legislation to deal with the problem.
Meanwhile, Group A thinks that legislation is needed to reduce the number of abortions, while Group B believes that education is enough.
Lots of facets to this one, consistency isn't one of them.
Over on the right column, in the usual place. That and new banners is about all the furniture rearranging that happens here on Rocket Jones. It's a guy thing.
Oldest daughter and I were driving to the hardware store saturday morning, and as we came up on a stop sign in our residential neighborhood, we spotted a large bird standing in the middle of the road.
My first thought was "chicken", then "turkey" as I realized just how big it really was. As we slowed down, it walked out of the way of my truck, and I saw the hairless red head. It was a Turkey Vulture. Not terribly uncommon, but rarely seen standing around in the road like that.
Ugly thing.
Legend has it that in the earliest of times the sun lived very close to the earth making it almost unbearable. The vulture was the most beautiful and powerful of birds-its head covered with rich feathers that all other birds envied. Knowing that the earth would burn up unless someone moved the sun, the vulture placed its head against the sun and began to fly toward the heavens. With powerful strokes of its mighty wings, it pushed the sun further and further away from the earth. Though it could feel it crown feathers burning, the vulture continued until the sun was high up in the heavens. The earth was safe, but unfortunately, the vulture lost its magnificent head of feathers for all eternity.
I've been putzing around the house this weekend, taking care of little chores. I'm pretty disorganized, so one task has been to gather up all the little piles of paperwork I have stashed all over and get them into some semblance of order. While going through one stack, I came across this...
(letterhead)
Commonwealth of Virginia
Department of Motor VehiclesAdministrative Letter No. 92-5
April 24, 1992
To: All Licensed Property and Casualty Insurance Agents
All Virginia Dealers of New and Used Cars
All Banks, Finance Companies, and Lending InstitutionsFrom: Donald E. Williams
CommisionerSubject: Automobile Headlight Dimmer Switches
Pursuant to House Bill No. 755, all motor vehicles sold in the Commonwealth of Virginia after July 1, 1992, will be required to have headlight dimmer switches mounted on the floorboard. The dimmer switch must be mounted in a position accessible to operation by pressing the switch with the left foot. The dimmer switch must be far enough removed from the brake pedal or clutch pedal to avoid inadvertent operation or pedal confusion.
Included in the above bill, and beginning July 1, 1992, all vehicles with steering column mounted dimmer switches must be retrofitted with a floorboard mounted dimmer switch. The steering column dimmer switch must be disabled or removed from the vehicle. Vehicles which have not made this change will not pass the requirements of the Commonwealth's Motor Vehicle Inspection Act and will, effective July 1, 1992, not be eligible for Automobile Insurance.
It is recognized that this change will cause some hardship for the driving public. However, this change is being made in the interest of public safety. A recent joint study by the Department of Motor Vehicles and the University of Virginia found that 25 percent of all nighttime highway accidents are caused by blondes getting their foot caught in the dimmer switch mounted on the steering column.
My PC is down in my den/workshop/basement/laundry room, and I treat it like the comfortable 'guy space' it's supposed to be. It's seldom ready for company, and sometimes stuff lays around on the workbench for quite a while before I get around to putting it where it belongs.
I have an old stand lamp sitting next to my desk, forming a small pool of light in the usually dim room. There are four minute spiders doing acrobatic spider things on the lamp. These spiders are smaller than the roller ball in a ball point pen, which means that despite my severe arachnophobia, I don't fear them. Hell, they're fun to watch. They weave their almost invisible webs and dangle under the lamp, working like they don't need the money, until hurricane Ted raises the wind, and they scramble for their safe points.
So I watch and enjoy and am amused. And I carefully count them, because if they increase to eight, then God (or a sufficiently accurate facsimile) is gonna wipe 'em out. Because I freakin' hate spiders.
Happy Independence Day!!!
(picture in the extended entry)
Since there's been such a hue and cry (translation: nobody asked) about the secret identities of our intrepid NogMeisters, I've decided to give some clues about who they are and what they look like.
Inspired by TopDawg, in the extended entry.
If you squint, we look like binary.
Mookie tried to buy an electric bike. Yesterday after work we re-packed it into the box, loaded it into the pickup and drove back to where she bought it. I was prepared for a fight, because there was a giant sticker on the box that said "Do Not Return To Retailer. Contact Manufacturer With Problems."
Bull. The damn thing was unusable right out of the box.
So I walked up to the Customer Service desk and told the friendly and helpful employee that I needed someone with a flatbed cart to go out to my truck and unload it, after which I wanted a refund. Then I handed him the receipt and a baggie full of broken lock pieces.
He started to make noises about the manufacturer, so I calmly and politely reminded him to call for someone with a cart to unload my truck, and asked to speak to a manager. I'm not going to waste my time dealing with him if he's not going to be immediately helpful.
I pulled the truck up in front of the store and helped two stock guys unload it onto a cart. One looks at the box and says, "Oh, it's a scooter."
I said, "No, it's a scooter-shaped piece of crap."
The guys take it inside while I go park the truck again, and Mookie hears this exchange:
Manager: "It's a scooter?"
Stock Guy: "According to him, it's a scooter-shaped piece of crap."
Five minutes later, we're walking out the door, all taken care of.
There's a new low-carb dog food.
A new medical study shows that excessive protein in the diet can cause fertility "problems". The reporters I watched verbally danced around, desperately trying to not say "Atkins" or "low-carb", and implied that the "problems" involved conception. The details of the report that I heard sounded more like birth defect type "problems". Balance people, the key is balance.
"Morbidly Obese", isn't that a lovely medical term? I hearby street-slangify it to "Mo'Beast", as in, "That dude with the Mac in each hand? He is Mohhh' Beast!"
Word.
"To err is human, to forgive, divine." -- Alexander Pope
I've humor to give in trade for sin. -- anagram of above :D
I've been reading Percival Lowell's Mars, the seminal 1895 work. In it, the famed astronomer examines the planet with care and in detail, and despite classic use of logic and deduction, manages to get almost everything completely wrong. Such is science.
Anyways, in one passage Lowell states:
"...with about as much probability... as that a chance collection of numbers should take the form of the multiplication table."
On the radio I heard an ad featuring a couple of voices who were 'obviously' black and urban. The product was those walkie-talkie phones, and the kicker line was, "your late-night bootie chirp".
Why is it that it's ok to air this kind of crap to make money, but if we use similar logic for security purposes it's denounced as racial profiling?
Flipping the zippy, pounding yer pud, spanking the monkey, etc. Whatever you call it, it's all just snazzier ways of saying "male masturbation" (how sterile and clinical that sounds!). The first time I ever heard it called "choking your chicken" was in Basic Training, and it was one of our drill sergeant's favorite phrases.
I had a boss once who's still a very good friend. He was single, and made no bones about it - he beat off frequently. During our smoke breaks at work we'd get into some of the damndest conversations - "that older sister on The Wild Thornberry's, I bet she'd be a demon in bed" - and my boss would smile and say, "I've got to go be alone with myself now."
I used to tease him about it all the time. I'd tell him he jerked off so often that he kept a picture of his right hand in his wallet.
He used his left hand sometimes just so he could pretend he was with a stranger.
For him, foreplay was kissing and licking his fingers.
Got any good one-liners or anecdotes? Put 'em in the comments. Don't be shy, we all know it's stuff that's happened to your 'friend'. Uh-huh, sure.
And just to be crass, here's a related Helen Keller joke:
Q: Why did Helen Keller masturbate with one hand?
A: So she could moan with the other.
Is William Hung the real-life equivalent of South Park's Timmy?
As promised, we conducted an emergency test of the Remote NogWatch System. Here's the original no-notice alert sent to my good friend and occasional commenter Anonymous Kyle:
Kyle,
This is a test of the Remote Nog Watch Network. Please check on the nog when you get a chance and let me know the status. No hurry, no pressure, but millions of interested blog readers are sitting on the edge of their seats and gnawing their nails, wondering if this will work.Godspeed,
Ted
Soon enough for government work, NogWarden Kyle reported back:
The Nog Stands Alone. Tell everyone that they can stop chewing thier toenails. Maybe our friend in the fridge could start it's own NogBlog.
So yeah, the Remote NogWatch System is a success. And I learned a couple of things: first, friends are important when you want to get things done, and second, it takes some real work to suck as bad as Bill.
Other times you're the bug. Work has dominated my universe this week, so I haven't been around to visit my usual haunts, let alone post much interesting here. I am working on something cool, hopefully it'll be ready to go tomorrow evening.
For a complete change of pace, I'll tell you about my humdrum home life. Last weekend I'd planned to replace the attic fan motor, but as usual, not only couldn't I find one at the HumongousHardwareChain, but they've restocked the place with all new clerks who graduated surly cum laude.
So instead, I helped my neighbor replace his picket fence. Much use of manly power tools was made. He was kind enough to give me a new fan motor (he's in that line of work), so this afternoon Mookie and I braved the sauna of the attic and knocked that item off the honey-do list.
And that about sums up life this week. Things will calm down soon enough, and return to as near to normal as it ever gets.
"T&A stands for 'Time and Attendance',
T&A stands for 'Time and Attendance',
T&A stands for 'Time and Attendance',
T&A stands for 'Time and -"
"Excuse me, Ted, did you have a question?"
"Oh. No, just making sure I have the terminology right."
JCL stands for Job Control Language, and it's been around since the 50's. It hasn't changed much over time, which means that computer jobs written decades ago still run perfectly today.
I'm (re)learning JCL as part of my new project, and here's a couple choice tidbits from the reference book:
"The role of JCL sounds complex and it is - JCL is downright difficult."No sugarcoating here, nosireebob!
"This book will explain JCL, but it won't try to make you like it because JCL is not a likable language."My head hurts, but I'm having fun!
Would you kill him in his bed?
Thrust a dagger through his head?
I would not, could not, kill the King.
I could not do that evil thing.
I would not wed this girl, you see.
Now get her to a nunnery.
My first day was memorable in a quiet and unassuming kinda way. The drive home was hella traffic and I'm beat. More tomorrow after I work a more normal (for me) shift.
Goodnight.
PS: The new job is jes' ducky! :)
A woman walks into a deli, points to a pepperoni and says, "I'll take that one."
The guy asks her, "Do you want that sliced thick or thin?"
She replies, "What do I look like, a piggy bank?"
But this is huge:
In a joint statement at the conclusion of two days of talks in the Indian capital, officials said the dedicated secure hot line between the countries' foreign secretaries was intended to "prevent misunderstandings and reduce risks relevant to nuclear issues."An existing hot line between directors-general of military operations in both countries also will be upgraded and secured, the statement said.
If we're talking about someone, and you can't exactly place the person I'm talking about, and if I describe him for you and begin with "he's black", that doesn't make me a racist. Skin color or race is the most obvious feature to start with because then you narrow down the group pretty quickly, just like "male" or "female" instantly eliminates about half of the possible population to consider.
So lose the chip on your shoulder and grow up, because I never expected that shit from you, and it bothers me that you think that lighter skin color than yours is a sign of the devil.
If it happens again, we're no longer friends, 'cause I don't play that game and I don't want to be around those who do. Of course, you'll probably just assume that it's because of your skin color.
Idiot.
Things have slowed down here at Rocket Jones lately as I prepare for the big job change on monday and other random bits of reality interfere with my blogging time.
This weekend's projects include hanging a new bird feeder, building a new DVD rack for my den, finishing up some drywall work I'm doing in the dining room (and maybe beginning to paint), and replacing the motor in the attic fan (bearings seized).
In unrelated domestic news, wife Liz has a new red blouse, which inexplicably got mixed in with a load of whites. Since I do all the laundry, I have no one to blame but myself. Fortunately, pink is in style right now, because half my underwear is a lovely shade of coral. Eat your hearts out.
LMIS (pronounced "Limmis") stands for Logistics Management Information System, and I've spent a considerable portion of the last 14 years working with it. New modules, new customer requirements, Y2K, the list goes on and on, it's been a fun project precisely because there always seemed to be some new project on the horizon. But like all things, change happens, and in this case we got new managers who, although nice enough people, lack the vision, skill and leadership of the former bosses, so LMIS quit evolving and adapting. The final nail came when upper upper management realized that LMIS is old. It's been in use since the mid-80's, which is fairly ancient for computer systems. Never mind that over the years it's been finely tuned and customized to do exactly what the users needed. Never mind that the original design was so brilliantly flexible that it's never been unable to do what was asked of it. And don't even think about the fact that LMIS could've been easily modified to do everything the new system is supposed to do, for probably one-third the cost. Upper management could never get past the fact that LMIS is old.
Also, the users are supposed to ignore the fact that the new replacement system doesn't work. I'm extremely biased, but it's the truth to say that the new system that was bought to replace LMIS cost a whole lot of money to do a whole lot less for the users and customers. Of course, "whole lot less" only applies to the parts of the hideous nightmare that actually work.
I can vent about all this because this is the same stuff I've been telling management for two years now. It's not like I've been holding back. It's also part of the reason that I'm so looking forward to the next project.
I'm going to miss the people though, that's for sure. I've collected addresses and phone numbers from the folks I definitely don't want to lose touch with, and gone around to say goodbye to just about everyone. The desk is cleaned out, the PC is about as personally uncustomized as possible, and I'm leaving at lunch today.
I tried to keep it low key, but some close friends got together and are taking me out to lunch today, and they got me a gift certificate to my favorite rocket shop. How cool is that?
Since some of you guys read this, I'll put it in writing (you've already heard me say it): I'm going to miss you. You made it worthwhile coming in to work every day. Good luck, don't let the twinkies get you down, stay sane and in touch.
Special note: it's a misdemeanor if intentional damage to a vehicle is less than $500, but you can reach that limit just by keying the paintjob. Might as well just set fire to the fucker.
Thanks also to the folks who suggested wonderfulness to program my function keys. There are multiple job search sites and plenty of dancing, singing, flying, poking and viking cute things all there at the touch of a button. :D
Finally, a secret. I'm sure it kept you up at night, wondering. Remember I told you that I worked in a cage? I shared that cage with pallets of blank passports, visas, and all the machines used to process them.
Not safe for work (in the extended entry).
Mookie, don't look, it's dirty. For those of you at work and over the age of 18, come back to look later and double my daily hits.
Long but funny (in the extended entry)
Hello, my name is Basmati Kasaar. I am suffering from rare and deadly diseases, poor scores on final exams, extreme virginity, fear of being kidnapped and executed by anal electrocution, and guilt for not forwarding out 50 billion freaking chain letters sent to me by people who actually believe that if you send them on, then that poor 6 year old girl in Arkansas with a breast on her forehead will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her redneck parents sell her off to the traveling freak show.
Do you honestly believe that Bill Gates is going to give you and everyone you send "his" email to $1000? How stupid are you? Ooooh, looky here!
If I scroll down this page and make a wish, every Playboy Bunny in the magazine’ll lay me! What bullshit. So basically, this message is a big GO TO HELL to all the people out there who have nothing better to do than to send me stupid chain mail forwards. Maybe the evil chain letter leprechauns will come into my apartment and sodomize me in my sleep for not continuing the chain which was started by Jesus in 5 A.D. and was brought to this country by midget pilgrims on the Mayflower and if it makes it to the year 2010, it'll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for longest continuous streak of blatant stupidity. Screw them.
If you're going to forward something, at least send me something mildly amusing. I've seen all the "send this to 50 of your closest friends, and this poor, wretched excuse for a human being will somehow receive a Nickel from some omniscient being” forwards about 90 times. I don’t freaking care. Show a little intelligence and think about what you’re actually contributing to by sending out forwards. Chances are it’s your own unpopularity.
THE THREE BASIC TYPES OF CHAIN LETTERS:
Chain Letter Type 1:
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Now, to make you feel guilty, here's what I'll do. First of all, if you don't send this to 5096 people in the next 5 seconds, you will be raped by a mad goat and thrown off a high building into a pile of manure.
Thanks!!!! Good Luck!!!
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Chain Letter Type 2
Hello, and thank you for reading this letter. You see, there is a starving little boy in Baklaliviatatlaglooshen who has no arms, no legs, no parents, and no goats. This little boy's life could be saved, because for every time you pass this on, a dollar will be donated to the Little Starving Legless Armless Goatless Boy from Baklaliviatatlaglooshen Fund. Oh, and remember, we have absolutely no way of counting the emails sent and this is all a complete load of bullshit. So go on, reach out. Send this to 5 people in the next 47 seconds. Oh, and a reminder - if you accidentally send this to 4 or 6 people, you will die instantly. Thanks again!!
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Chain Letter Type 3
Hi there!! This chain letter has been in existence since 1897. This is absolutely incredible because there was no email then and probably not as many sad pricks with nothing better to do. So this is how it works... Pass this on to 15,067 people in the next 7 minutes or something horrible will happen to you like:
*Bizarre Horror Story #1
Miranda Pinsley was walking home from school on Saturday. She had recently received this letter and ignored it. She then tripped in a crack in the sidewalk, fell into the sewer, was gushed down a drainpipe in a flood of poopie, and went flying out over a waterfall. Not only did she smell nasty, she died. This Could Happen To You!!!
*Bizarre Horror Story #2
Dexter Bip, a 13 year old boy, got a chain letter in his mail and ignored it. Later that day, he was hit by a car and so was his boyfriend (hey, some people swing that way). They both died and went to hell and were cursed to eat adorable kittens every day for eternity!! This Could Happen To You Too!!! Remember, you could end up just like Pinsley and Bip. Just send this letter to all of your loser friends, and everything will be okay.
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POINT BEING?
If you get some chain letter that's threatening to leave you shagless or luckless for the rest of your life, delete it. If it's funny, send it on. Don't piss people off by making them feel guilty about a leper in Botswana with no teeth, who's been tied to a dead elephant for 27 years, whose only savior is the 5 cents per letter he'll receive if you forward this mail, otherwise you'll end up like Pinsley and Bip. Right? Now forward this to everyone that you know or you'll find all your underwear missing tomorrow morning.
My cultlike following is now accepting applications.
I'll take "Unfortunate Names" for one thousand, Alex.
Who is the only person worse off than this guy?
Thanks to Simon for pointing at the first poor soul.
My PC at work has programmable function keys, and I have them set up to take me various places like our work systems, Google, Rocket Jones, and so on. Seeing's how the average user in the building isn't very technologically sophisticated, I was thinking that it'd be fun to reprogram the function keys to lead to weird and wonderful places on the internet. I'll leave the important work related ones, but I need some ideas for other destinations.
I was thinking Despair.com to start, but I need your evil suggestions. No porn, this is a work computer.
In traffic, bopping with Earth, Wind & Fire, I spied a dump truck chugging along. And as Philip Bailey croons:
We have a magic box
One that is never locked
For all your dirt needs
call 555-9999
All the I's are crossed and the T's are dotted, and this is my last week on this project. Beginning next monday, my commute distance doubles, my hours start even earlier, and I'll be back in a learning environment again. I'm looking forward to this change because I've gotten stale and too comfortable where I'm at.
I may vent and bitch about work at some future date, but then again, what's the point? I take great comfort in the fact that I'm being replaced by a singularly unhelpful "help desk", and their personnel turnover so far is massive and constant. Most of my users have already stopped by to say goodbye and tell me how sorry they are to see me go, which is always good for the ego.
I may occasionally do a remote Nog Watch, so those anxiously riveted to their seats need not worry.
I like working early hours, so I've already gotten the ok to work 6am-3pm at the new place. This is good because I'll miss the worst of the traffic both ways. It's bad because I'll have to leave my house at 5am, at least until I figure out exactly how long it'll take to get there.
During the interview, the big boss explained what they were doing and where they were going with the new project, then asked me what I thought about it. I told him it sounded like fun.
*nipple check* Yep, I'm excited.
Why the Chicken Crossed the Road -- USAF Interpretation
Colonel: Successful crossing, well planned and carried out in accordance with my directives.
Chief: About time that thing worked; hope the Colonel's finally happy.
NCO: Changed two wings, a beak, and removed a bad egg, and the silly thing still can't fly!
2nd Lt: Look at the pretty bird!
(there's more in the extended entry)
TOWER: The chicken was instructed to hold short of the road. This road-incursion incident was reported in a Hazardous Chicken Road-Crossing Report (HCRCR). Please re-emphasize that chickens are required to read back all 'hold short' instructions.
COMMAND POST: What chicken?
Air Education and Training Command (AETC): The purpose is to familiarize the chicken with road-crossing procedures. Road-crossing should be performed only between the hours of sunset and sunrise. Solo chickens must have at least 3 miles of visibility and a safety observer.
Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC): The chicken crossed at a 90 degree angle to avoid prolonged exposure to a line of communication. To achieve maximum surprise, the chicken should perform this maneuver at night using NVGs, preferably near a road bend in a valley.
Air Force Personnel Center (AFPC): Due to the needs of the Air Force, the chicken was involuntarily reassigned to the other side of the road. This will be a 3-year controlled tour and we promise to give the chicken a good-deal assignment afterwards. Every chicken will be required to do one road-crossing during its career, and this will not affect its opportunities for promotion.
Air Intelligence Agency (AIA): Despite what you see on CNN, I can neither confirm nor deny any fowl performing acts of transit. Questions? Please see the SSO.
Air Force Reserve Command (AFRC): If it didn't happen on a Saturday or Sunday then we missed it.
Air Force Foreign Technology Center (AFFTC): This event will need confirmation; we need to repeat it using varied chicken breeds, road types, and weather conditions to confirm whether it can actually happen within the parameters specified for chickens and the remote possibility that they might cross thruways designated by some as 'roads.'
Air Combat Command (ACC): The chicken should log this as a GCC sortie only if road-crossing qualified. The crossing updates the chicken's 60-day road-crossing currency only if performed on a Monday or Thursday or during a full moon. Instructor chickens may update currency any time they observe another chicken cross the road.
Pacific Air Force (PACAF): We don't have chickens yet, as they haven't been funded. The latest projection is for chickens in FY2002, at which time they will be WRM assets assigned to ACC.
Air Mobility Command (AMC): The purpose is not important. What is important is that the chicken remained under the OPCON of USCINCTRANS and did not CHOP to the theater on the other side of the road. Without CHOPing, the chicken was able to achieve a seamless road-crossing with near perfect, real-time in-transit visibility.
Tanker Airlift Control Center (TACC): We need the road-crossing time and the time the chicken becomes available for another crossing.
Air Force Materiel Command (AFMC): Recent changes in technology, coupled with today's multipolar strategic environment, have created new challenges in the chicken's ability to cross the road. The chicken was also faced with significant challenges to create and Develop core competencies required for this new environment. AFMC's Chicken Systems Program Office (CSPO), in a partnering relationship with the client, helped the chicken by rethinking its physical distribution strategy and implementation processes. Using the Poultry Integration Model (PIM) CSPO helped the chicken use its skills, methodologies, knowledge capital and experiences to align the chicken's people, processes, and technology in support of its overall strategy within a Program management framework. The CSPO convened a diverse cross-spectrum of road analysts and retired chickens along with MITRE consultants with deep skills in the transportation industry to engage in a two-day itinerary of meetings in order to leverage their personal knowledge and capital, both tacit and explicit, and to enable them synergize with each other in order to achieve the implicit goals of delivering and successfully architecting and implementing an enterprise-wide value framework across the continuum of poultry cross-median processes. The meeting was held in a park-like setting enabling and creating an impactful environment which was strategically based, mission-focused, and built upon a consistent, clear, and unified Mission Need Statement and aligned with the chicken's mission, vision, and core values. This was conducive towards the creation of a total business integration solution. The Chicken Systems Program Office helped the chicken change to continue meeting its mission requirements.
C-130 CREWMEMBER: Just put the darn chicken in back and let's go.
C-141 CREWMEMBER: I ordered a #4 with turkey and ham, NOT Chicken! Besides, where the heck are my condiments?! We ain't taking off til' I get my condiments!!!
AWACS CREW: Due to our being in a turn at that precise moment, we have no confirmation of any chickens in the area at that time.Our ACE advises that such an event is extremely unlikely, in any case.
FIGHTER JOCK: Look, dude, that was the frag, OK? I've flown my 1.0 for the day and I ain't got time for any more questions!
F-117 PILOT: Wasn't that great! I snuck up on it at 2 feet AGL at 600 knots, illuminated its tail feathers with the laser designator, and 'goosed' it before it even knew I was there!
B-1 CREW: Missed the whole show: We had an IFE so we couldn't get out to see it; you'll have to ask the SOF.
CHECKMATE: The chicken used its unique ability to operate in 2 dimensions to bypass the less important strategic rings on this side of the road and strike directly into the heart of the enemy, destroying the will of the enemy to fight and ending the conflict on terms favorable to the chicken.
CONGRESS: The chicken appears to be an efficient substitute for F-22s!
Congrats to the Lightning. Normal sleep patterns shall now resume.
Really. A dirty cartoon with nudity and sexual content. In the extended entry.
Rates on federal student loans have fallen to around 3 percent — a 35-year low. Even better, students can lock in those rates, potentially saving thousands of dollars by ensuring their payments won't increase even if interest rates do.But a proposal in Congress could shut down the party. The measure would end the fixed-rate option, making all federal student loans issued after July 2006 subject to variable rates. Repayments would then rise and fall each year in sync with interest rates.
I had one of those oddly productive weekends where you look back and say "wow, I got a lot done!" Yardwork, trees pruned, gutters cleaned, errands run, wallpaper scraped, naps taken, meat grilled, house cleaned, laundry done, etc., etc. I stayed mostly busy, but still I'm nicely recharged for the week.
I could use some sleep though. I stayed up into the wee hours each night, watching my crap movies. Now our young dog is sick. He's acting like a typical male cat, winding around your feet constantly and demanding attention. Not sure what's wrong, but he's still eating and playful. He's just acting 'off'. Of course, being sick he's restless and was constantly walking around on the bed all night. He's little too, so my sleeping body is nothing more than an obsticle to be navigated over in the dark. He woke me up more than once doing the little doggy circle-dance on my back as he tried to get comfortable.
I was also a major oinker all weekend about eating. Constantly hungry for some reason. To make up for it and get my slacker butt back into healthy food mode, today I brought a low-fat yogurt for breakfast and fruit for lunch. If anyone is interested, I've lost about 30 pounds since the beginning of the year.
Yesterday, the Action Channel showed a Combat! marathon. Starring Vic Morrow, the series ran in the early 60's and was about a platoon during WWII. I had it on for most of the day, which really brought back some memories. Combat! and Bonanza are the first two shows I can remember watching with my dad.
A friend sent me this:
If you can read this, thank a teacher.
If you can read this in English, thank the US Military.
The cicada event is beginning to wind down, and the ground at work is littered with their little dead carcasses. As I was crunching my way towards my truck this afternoon, it occurred to me that since cicada life is geared entirely towards sex, then it follows that the ones who die first were probably the most successful in getting laid early in the cycle. So I was stomping on little cicada versions of those jerks in high school who never had a problem scoring with the ladies.
I hated those guys, and I really, really enjoyed that walk.
I just finished two apricots, the first of the season. My favorite.
I have a bowl full of pears ripening at home too. My second favorite.
I'll be leaving work at lunchtime today, because I've taken a half day off before every 3-day weekend for the last 15 years.
It's a 3-day weekend.
Wife and Mookie have to work tomorrow, so I'll get the whole day to myself.
Life is good.
I assume that's your nickname. See, your personalized license plate was a little hard to decipher. I bet a lot of "sweet pea's" want those words on the plates, so you wind up going through all kinds of gyrations to spell your name.
Here's a tip: SWET PT will be translated as "sweat pit" by others. You couldn't have meant that, could you?
Driving home from work yesterday, I merged onto the interstate behind a station wagon with out-of-state plates. Inside were two adults and at least seven or eight kids.
On the back was a bumper sticker: "I [heart] the Old Latin Mass".
That's what Mookie asked for over the weekend.
First I explained how life insurance worked, and that if I had a heart attack she wouldn't get a dime. She understood.
Then she explained what 'bondage pants' were. I understood.
Then I said "no".
She's annoyed with me, which is only fair since my chest still hurts from that thump-erk! she caused.
Busy busy busy catching up with things, but I do have a few things on the pad.
1. Team America Rocket Challenge. Was saturday, and was abso-freakin-lutely incredible!!! Tales to tell, but not today. In the meantime, the website has been updated with pictures and news (click past the sign in stuff - twice, you don't need it). More photos and stories will be posted in the near future.
2. Box Hockey. I talked about it once, then it was put on the back burner. Last week someone emailed me after googling "box hockey" and asked me to get going on it. So I will.
3. More interesting spacey kinda information. You know, the usual.
4. Even more weird and offbeat movie reviews. The movies are weird and offbeat, not the reviews. The reviews are colorful, insightful and informative. Trust me, I play a professional critic on the internet.
5. And enough miscellania to keep you shovelling away.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.
It's rained 19 out of 23 days this month in Ohio (make that 20 out of 24 now). We saw lots of farm fields half under water. According to one radio report, Lake Michigan's water level has risen 2" this month. That's a lot of water!!!
Mookie and I hadn't had any luck getting her PC connected to the internet on the new cat-5 cable we ran. Yesterday I asked a friend in the PC shop at work if he could put new jacks on the ends and test it for me (yeah, I was going to un-install the cable - we were that frustrated).
Instead he lent me a line tester, and when I got home last night Mookie and I got things up and running in about an hour.
I'll tell him 'thank you' this morning, and even though he doesn't read Rocket Jones, I thought I'd tell him thanks here too.
That's how I'd describe the San Jose Sharks play during the last two games of their season.
Congrats to the Calgary Flames, you deserved the win.
And big thanks to my beloved Sharks, it's been a helluva ride.
Last week, we got a notice that they were going to be trimming trees around the building at work. When I came in monday morning, three huge trees in front of the building had been completely removed. It was amusing, because a lot of people knew something was different, but couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was.
These were mature trees, taller than our two-story warehouse, and they had been planted way too close to the building. Sidewalks were being lifted and the last major trimming they'd had done had lopped all the branches off of the building side to keep them from smashing windows in the wind. So they were badly placed and wildly off-balance. People here at work are throwing a hissy fit. I hate that they're gone, but I understand why. Now I hope someone is talking about planting new trees, about 15 feet farther out from the building would do nicely.
After 17 years they suddenly become a huge nuisance. Experts tell us that they're special and we should be nice to them, although they serve no useful purpose. They're noisy as hell, individually screeching until collectively they become an unintelligable droning. The only thing on their mind is sex, after which they disappear again until the next generation comes along.
To sum up, they're teenagers.
What the hell is wrong with people?!?!?!?
Cicada's are crawling out of the ground after 17 years and everywhere you look these nitwits are talking about eating them!
Recipes are printed in the newspaper, the newscasts are full of happy freaks chowing down on the insects, even the radio on the way home talked about chocolate chip cicada cookies. "First you pull off their heads and legs, then you dry roast them..." *gag*
Be honest now, March was National Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, did y'all have a sudden hankerin' for chitlins?
America learned once again, thanks to Abu Ghuraib, that our freedoms are a two-edged sword, especially when trying to instill our overreaching principles on another people.
For all the breast-beating and second-guessing that we're hearing, I'm still proud of the USA, precisely because of what happened at Abu Ghuraib.
The humiliations inflicted on the prisoners were wrong, but that is a small (albeit important) part of the story. A soldier knew that it was wrong, and reported it to his chain of command. The military immediately began an investigation. The people identified in the investigations are being brought up on charges. The media was informed of the investigation at the very beginning, by the military itself.
America proved to the world that not only do we talk the talk, but we walk the walk. We've given the whole world a lesson in American-style freedom, and it is being noticed and talked about.
From BlackFive:
Iraqi media, almost unbelievably, have in recent days begun to editorialized astonishment at how the United States has responded. No covers ups. No denials. The President of the United States, the world's most powerful man, formally apologized to the people of Iraq. The U.S. Congress grilled a senior member of the Administration and all the while the U.S. media was allowed to report on the unfolding story with full freedom and access. "Why does Arab media fail at self criticism and why can't Arab human rights NGOs pressure Arab governments the way their counterparts do in America?", asked the host of satellite news channel al-Arabiy's (one of the harshest critics of the United States) "Spotlight" news program. The follow up commentary was even more astounding, given the source. "The Americans exposed their own scandal, queried the officials and got the American Government to accept responsibility for the actions of its soldiers," stated the host before asking her guests why this sort of open and responsive action isn't taken in the Arab world.
What's in it for me?
It's a crass way of defining the motivations of man. All mankind. Every last one. Even people like Mother Theresa operate from the same basic principles, although one might put it more delicately.
Helping someone 'from the goodness in your heart' means you do it because it makes you feel good inside, or it satisfies your code of ethics. Or maybe you do it because God tells you to, in which case your 'reward' is spiritual, but it is there. Even self-sacrifice boils down to the same base motivations.
Nobody does anything unless their self-interested needs are met somehow.
(this is what passes for rigorous thought in my fluffy little world, now where's my puppy...)
I have one, and if you do I'd like to hear it. Leave it in the comments.
Pink or Avril Levigne?
Update: So far, the vote is Pink: 5 Avril: 1, although Norah Jones did get a write-in vote. We also got two "who?", including Lynn who points out that Avril sounds like the name of one of those new drugs on the market.
For pete's sake people, if you're looking for partners to have cyber-sex on the internet, at least use some ordinary common sense and protect yourself.
(in the extended entry)
I've been under the weather since wednesday, but today I'm headed out for a club rocket launch. The day is supposed to be beautiful, with possible thunderstorms rolling through tonight.
Enjoy your day, I'm going to enjoy mine.
I got this comment to one of my space posts a while back, and had put it aside to respond to later. I forgot about it. Naturally, the return email was bogus, but the sentiments contained within are worth looking at again.
I believe that there should be one global space program (to help it move along quicker) However, it should be noted that if any country needs a space program, it's China.When one and one half billion people live in an area the size of the US, and when they have to commit genocide against the Tibetans in order to resettle the Han population, I say it's about time to resettle the same Han Population onto the Moon.
Not only China, but also India, Bangladesh, Madagascar, the United States etc need to resettle their collective populaces outside the Earth for the sake of environmental recovery.
People need to settle on the Moon etc As Soon As is Possible. There are way too many people on the Earth and for each person born (especially to the wealthy) our resources are strained more and more and our environment is further decimated. It would be best if ALL the people on planet Earth left for space, save for a few indigenous peoples. That would give the Earth time to repair it's self.
Eventually all the cities towns and villages lying along the great coastal plains will have to build protective domes around them (as the ice caps melt and sea levels rise). The Space program may very well supply this technology.
The given link [here ya go - RJ] shows all the eco-regions and how, why, and to what extent they are being threatened.
Time for some creative thinking!
Contact your local PTA's and volunteer to head up fundraising efforts for Uncle Sam. Picture the little patriots standing out in front of the local supermarket, holding a "Pennies for Cruise Missiles" drive.
Or for organizations, how about a "Sponsor A Bomb" program? For your donation, you get pictures showing your organization's name and logo on the bomb, along with the crew who're going to load it onto the aircraft and the pilot who drops it. You also get before and after photos of the target taken out by "your" bomb, and if it's a smart bomb you get a tape with the actual video feed as it reaches out and touches someone. Up close and personal, as they say.
I know, I can hear you saying that you already pay for all those things with your tax dollars, and you're absolutely correct. Think of this as a way to direct your bucks towards something specific. Ever hear someone complain that if they could, they'd make sure their money wasn't being used for [insert whatever here]? Same idea, turned 180 degrees.
Another thought. Why isn't PETA sending doggie-flak vests to our K-9 compadres? Here's an angle that may persuade them: for every military working dog that survives, the chances are that he'll point out more humans that will be killed! Safer dogs and less people! Win - win, eh?
Come to think of it, the tree-huggers outta be thrilled with that too.
There are untapped resources out there. We just need to give until it hurts them.
I had to move a bookcase out of the way to get at the wall where our modem cable enters the house. Afterwards I was inspecting the new cat-5 cables, and noticed a little bit of nature happening right near my feet.
A yellow jacket was buzzing on the floor, caught up in a spider web. Also on the web was the owner, possibly a black widow, darting in and out, doing spider things to subdue the yellow jacket and make it more secure in the web. It was pretty fascinating to watch.
I finally got a spraycan of gloss clearcoat and hosed them both down until all movement stopped. Old joke, but true in this case: they died with a beautiful finish.
Mr. Green puts it perfectly:
Abu Ghraib represents a betrayal of our principles, while this murder [Nicholas Berg - RJ] represents an expression of theirs.
My wife once bought me a bumper sticker for one of my old beater vehicles. It read "Vulcan Science Academy - the logical education".
I put it on my back bumper. Upside down.
Not quite, but closer than you might think.
When folks think about American Bald Eagles, they often picture the birds soaring through majestic mountains and nesting atop barren, craggy peaks far above the treeline.
What you might not know is that there is a bald eagle preserve in northern Virginia, about 30 miles south of Washington, D.C. Set along both shores of the Potomac river, this preserve is home to up to 50 bald eagles at a time and has three active nests. George Washington himself may have watched an eagle or two, since his Mount Vernon home overlooks the Potomac river just north of today's preserve. It's not unheard of for boaters on the Rappahanock river to spot an eagle circling lazily overhead as eagles continue to make a comeback from their endangered status.
Much of the preserve's land remains in private ownership, and not open to the public, but there are also several parks where hiking, boating, and camping are allowed.
You may remember when President Clinton released an adolescent eagle named Freedom at July 4th ceremonies in 1996. The eagle flew directly over an Osprey nest, and the territorial osprey (four of 'em) attacked Freedom and knocked him into the water. Freedom was rescued by the Coast Guard and re-released a couple of weeks later after recovering from minor injuries.
They won the world hockey championship for the second year in a row.
The US took the bronze.
(in the extended entry - click where it says "light this candle...")
Nic offered up this link: online Pulp Fiction Greeting Cards. Too cool!
Snippets from the covers of dimestore novels.
"Shock trooper in the battle of the sexes!" -- Lust for a Green Beret
"Chuck Merrick, private eye, and the girl with the .32 gun and the 36" chest." -- Girl In A Jam
"A novel of temptation - and primitive passions" and
"She was his property: to keep, to beat, to use." -- Cracker Girl
"Trapped on a planet of peril, he dared challenge its monster ruler" -- An Earth Man on Venus
"High-voltage sex and spying" -- I Was A Teeny-Bopper For The CIA
"She was as tough as the hoods she worked with - until she met a man who made her feel like a woman" -- Syndicate Girl
This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or neighbor!!
DANGEROUS: What's for dinner?
SAFER: Can I help you with dinner?
SAFEST: Where would you like to go for dinner?
ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.
DANGEROUS: Are you wearing that?
SAFER: Gee, you look good in brown.
SAFEST: WOW! Look at you!
ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.
DANGEROUS: What are you so worked up about?
SAFER: Could we be overreacting?
SAFEST: Here's fifty dollars.
ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.
DANGEROUS: Should you be eating that?
SAFER: You know, there are a lot of apples left.
SAFEST: Can I get you a glass of wine with that?
ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.
DANGEROUS: What did you do all day?
SAFER: I hope you didn't overdo it today.
SAFEST: I've always loved you in that robe!
ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.
Happy Birthday to the greatest baseball player who ever lived - Willie Mays.
"The Catch". That's all I've got to say.
Over on the right column, just above the tagline archive. Sometimes I'm just too darn organized.
Snippets from the covers of dimestore novels.
"An intense story of uncontrollable passion!" -- Sinful Life
"A beautiful girl - An amorous male - A great weekend" -- One Night With Nancy
"Her pagan desires violated even the loose moral code of the marshlands!" -- Swamp Bred
"A street-girl gives her real heart to a guy in the gutters of hell" -- All Dames Are Dynamite
"A startling view of life in 1984. Forbidden Love... Fear... Betrayal" -- 1984
"It promised a thrill! She fell prey to the foulest of rackets!" -- Marijuana Girl
send good thoughts
eminate positive vibes
say a little prayer
wish upon a star
whatever, it's all appreciated...
hoping for good news this afternoon.
Update: Nope, no word today. To misquote Van Morrison: "Just because you didn't hear from him, that just means he didn't call."
Hopefully tomorrow. And as soon as I hear, I'll let you know too. In the meantime, those good vibes couldn't hurt, so keep 'em coming.
Anyone remember this wargame?
The Ace of Aces game system was a stroke of brilliance when it was first released by Gameshop Inc. in 1980. Designer Alfred Leonardi, a history teacher, crafted a totally new game mechanism which used illustrated "programmed" books to recreate aerial combat. For the first time, gamers could fight a dogfight using simultaneous movement without cumbersome log sheets, enormous rulebooks, and many hours of playing time. In fact, a game of Ace of Aces played by experienced players can move so quickly that it is virtually a "real time" simulation.The original Ace of Aces "Handy Rotary Series" came with a pair of brown game books each slightly smaller than a paperback novel. Each book contained 223 illustrations depicting various views from the cockpit of the player's aircraft. The view on each page was oriented to show the location of the opponent's aircraft. For example, the "Allies" book showed a view of the opposing Fokker as seen from a Sopwith Camel cockpit. Conversely, the "Germans" book showed a view of the Camel as seen from the cockpit of a Fokker Dr. I triplane.
Click here to see a sample page from the German book.
One neat feature of the system is that you can fly multi-plane dogfights, as long as you have enough books (or bookmarks) for each player.
I've got the original "Powerhouse" edition (#5 on the link above) which pits a Fokker D-VII against a Spad XIII. It's an amazing game, easy enough for kids to play, yet still rich enough for aircraft buffs to get serious about.
Other editions featured different planes and even a balloon-busting version where you could shoot down the tethered balloons used by both sides to hold observers and artillery spotters.
Later, WWII editions titled Wingleader were released. These used a similar, but not identical, gaming system and let you fly either a P-51 Mustang or Focke-Wulf FW-190 in combat.
Jet Eagles takes the concept into the modern era, pitting an F15 Eagle against a Mig29 Fulcrum. Since modern jet combat is often fought with long range missiles and you may never see your opponent, the system goes through some more tweaking to make it work.
I also remember a variation of the system done by another company where the opposing sides were individuals instead of aircraft. One player might be an armored warrior with a spear, while the other might be a skeleton with sword and shield. I never actually played any of these, but they looked cool at the time.
About two weeks ago I mentioned my apparent talent for killing comment threads. Since then, it's gotten even worse than before.
If y'all are doing it on purpose, then knock it off. It ain't funny no more.
Well, steely-something anyway...
(in the extended entry - more or less safe for work)
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How many times during the playoffs do we have to miss a breakaway because some fan stands up right in front of the camera and blocks the view of the net?
Here's a suggestion: put one of those plywood characters - "you must be this tall..." - at the entrance to that seating section. Hell, make it a life-size cutout of Ottawa's Zdeno Charra (6'9") and don't let anyone taller than his stick sit in front of the cameras.
Dairy Queen has been airing the best commercial I've seen in a long time. I can't find the actual vid online, but it's for their new Flamethrower Burger.
Super-bowl quality.
Imagine having only one channel.
The facehugger from the movie Alien.
Eight legs, what a happy coincidence.
Imagine heaving one of these onto the ice at a hockey playoff game instead of an octopus. They wouldn't know what it was, and probably wouldn't want to touch it.
But we can do better...
It's a plushie, so it needs to be slicked up with some sort of slimy goo. I'm thinking a KY and Karo syrup mixture. Something that will drip disgustingly when it's picked up.
To keep it from looking waterlogged from the goo, spray it down real good beforehand with 3M's Scotchguard. The hell with the CFC's and the ozone man, we're doing a joke here!
I just thought of another little twist. Insert a small vibrator inside so it's throbbing a little bit. Just enough to feel wrong when it's picked up. Imagine the look on the guys face as he gingerly touches it, then realizes that it might still be alive.
See? That's not so hard. Now what else could we do with this little beastie?
Thanks to TexasBestGrok for the inspiration, via the Llama Butchers, and even farther back than that.
Hello Mr. Intelligence Agent. Welcome to my blog.
Probably the most underappreciated player in the history of hockey was Detroit's Alex Delvecchio. In 24 seasons he played 1,529 games, scored 456 goals and 825 points, yet was selected for the NHL all-star game only one time, and that on the second team. Why was this stellar performer overlooked by so many for so long? Because his line-mate was Gordie Howe.
The finals of the 1950-1951 season were memorable because all five games were decided in overtime. The Toronto Maple Leafs won it all when rising star Bill Barilko lifted a shot past Gerry McNeil of the Montreal Canadiens for the winning goal. During the ensuing off-season, Barilko disappeared while on a fishing trip to a remote area of Northern Ontario. It was 11 years before the wreckage of the airplane and his body were found and 11 years before the Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup again.
The playoffs of the 1951-1952 season introduced a weird hockey tradition. Two Detroit brothers came up with the symbolism of the octopus. Eight arms for eight wins needed to take home the Stanley Cup. In the first period of the fourth game of the finals against Montreal, the brothers heaved their deceased mollusc onto the ice. The idea caught on, and even though the today's modern playoff format makes the number eight meaningless, fans all over the country continue to throw octopi onto the ice during playoff games.
Stan Mikita was the first Czech player to make it into the NHL, joining the Chicago Blackhawks at the end of the 1958-1959 season. During his early career he was a scrapper and routinely racked up 100+ penalty minutes a season. After his seventh season, his young daughter asked him why he spent so much time in the penalty box, and he resolved to play a cleaner game from then on. Cutting back on his penalty minutes didn't hurt his game at all, and he won the league MVP and Lady Byng trophy for sportsmanship two years in a row. In 22 seasons he led the league in scoring four times. Later in his career he suffered a concussion that caused him to miss a quarter of the season, after which he designed a helmet which proved to be very popular. Having a star of his caliber wear a helmet took a lot of pressure off of other players during a time when almost no one wore them and wearing one caused some to question your toughness.
I'm just not sure who to send my resume to.
(in the extended entry)
Tomorrow the contractors come to install new windows in our house. After managing a little ladder mishap last night that wrenched my back I'm moving at half speed. So I took today off from work because everything around the house was going to take longer to do.
We got all the curtains down and washed, and all the hardware for curtains, blinds, shades, etc removed. Furniture moved and access to every window cleared. The last thing I have to do tonight is to put a couple of CAT-5 connectors on the new cabling we ran last weekend, and a few last-second things in the morning.
A little while ago they stopped by and dropped off some materials for tomorrow. I've been wanting to do this for several years, but damn it's expensive. I know it'll automatically raise the value of the house at least as much as they cost, not to mention the improved efficiency of new windows compared to the original almost 40 year old ones. I was talking to a couple of neighbors about it, and apparently we got a decent price too.
Hockey's on. Then I need a hot shower, some kick-ass pain drugs, and some sleep. Enjoy your weekend.
From my wife, who got it from her sister.
A man asked his wife what she'd like for her birthday. "I'd love to be six again," she replied. On the morning of her birthday, he arose early, made her a nice big bowl of Lucky Charms and then took her off to the local theme park. What a day! He put her on every ride in the park: the Death Slide, the Wall of Fear, and the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster, everything there was. Five hours later she staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down. Right away, they journeyed to a McDonald's where her loving husband ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a refreshing chocolate shake. Then it was off to a movie to see the latest blockbuster, a hot-dog, popcorn, a soda pop, and her favorite candy, M&M's. What a fabulous adventure! Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed exhausted. He leaned over his precious wife with a big smile and lovingly asked. "Well, dear, what was it like being six again?" Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed."You idiot, I meant my dress size!"
The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening, he's gonna get it wrong.
My wife was surprised to hear me use that phrase yesterday. If you haven't heard it before, it refers to one of those times when you momentarily forget what you were going to say or do.
I don't use "senior moment" to describe myself, because I've been absent minded my whole life. I'm a fanatical list-maker, because if I didn't write it down, I know I'd forget. In fact, sometimes my biggest problem is finding an old list and trying to remember if I've already dealt with it or not.
I was going somewhere with this, but I was interupted and now I can't remember. Sounds like a joke, but I'm serious. I didn't make a note to myself, and I forgot. It's inevitable I tell you.
Damn, that's gonna bug me too.
Update: Ok, I didn't leave myself a note, but another window was open on the PC and that reminded me. And it was a list, kinda. Some bloggers share what they find on their searchengine referrer logs, and I love to read those because it's usually funny and amazing what turns up. I haven't done it before because, well, I'm odd like that, and usually won't do something that others do.
But it's a list, which makes it ok for this post, which is turning into one huge rambling mess. Besides the expected "rocket" and "how to make a rocket" stuff I find:
"porta-potty" rental rate
Probably someone from the State Department.
The Gravity Probe B satellite conspiracy
Paging Mr. Stone...
beats him like a red headed step child
Yep, I use that phrase. Surprisingly though, mine has hyphens. Ok, so maybe not so surprising. Some say punctuation is a tool for writers. In that case, I'm like the movie psychotic who misuses various tools to bludgeon understanding into your unsuspecting mind. Make sense out of that screwed-up metaphore, I dare ya!
gladiator eroticus pictures
The google hits for "softcore lesbian movie spoofs shot direct to video" start to roll in! Go me.
clipping riverdance
The nude version. It's my idea, but I need investors. Any takers? Apparently someone thinks I'll need a barber on staff too.
2004 email addresses of MR. YOUSUF
I think we'd all like to have that. Let me know when you get it, ok?
All right, enough of this nonsense.
(ID's have been changed to protect the clueless and evil)
proudpapa: oh man
proudpapa: my son is sooooooo dead
lemon8: Why?
proudpapa: hes been looking at internet web sites in effing EUROPE
proudpapa: HE IS SURFING LONG DISTANCE
proudpapa: our effing phone bill is gonna be nuts
lemon8: Ooh, this is bad. Surfing long distance adds an extra $69.99 to your bill per hour.
proudpapa: ...!!!!!! DAMN DAMN DAMN
proudpapa: is there some plan we can sign up for???
proudpapa: cuz theres some cool stuff in europe, but i dont want to pay that much
lemon8: Sorry, no. There is no plan. you'll have to live with it.
proudpapa: o well, i ccan live without europe intenet sites.
proudpapa: but till i figure out how to block it hes sooooo dead
lemon8: By the way, I'm from Europe, your chatting long distance.
** proudpapa has quit (Connection reset by peer)
After all, they are from the Silicon Valley.
Thanks to the Hockey Pundits for the pointer.
... that I'm mentally prepared to leave this project.
I was talkng to some co-workers this morning when one lady made a disgusted choking sound and pointed at the floor. There was a large cockroach going his merry way down the hall. One guy moved to stomp it, but stopped when I said "better not." Everyone paused and looked at me.
"Might be management."
The roach got away. I better get a good review from him.
First off, I'd like to thank everyone who gave advice about my neighborhood pit bull situation. Y'all are levelheaded and rational, and I'm often not, so your words mean a lot. Cindy pointed out this story about a recent mauling, which is exactly the kind of thing I'm worried about.
A few thoughts about drivers, inspired by recent events during my commute:
I'm not anti-religion, but where in the rules does it say that as soon as you plaster devotional slogans on your car it becomes ok to be an asshole? My favorite so far is the bumper stickers that say "In case of Rapture, this vehicle will be driverless". Guess what? You already drive like a brain-dead zombie, so nobody will notice the friggin' difference!!!!!
Yesterday I passed one of those ubiquitous service vans (you know, plumbers, electricians, whatever... ladders on top, logos all over it), and got a dirty look for not letting him pull into my lane. He probably would've flipped me off, but he had a map in one hand, a cell phone in the other, looked to be steering with his knees, and couldn't spare an elbow to use the turn-signal. I didn't look to see if he was waiting for the Rapture.
Do you have HOV lanes where you live? "High Occupancy Vehicle" lanes, and on my route they're a separate roadway between the north and southbound interstates, and you need three people in the car to use them. The last couple of days the cops have been out in force enforcing it, which always makes me feel good. I don't mind if people cheat, as long as once in a while they get caught. The fines are very steep, so I consider it a tax on stupid (thanks for that one Victor).
Anyway, back to the HOV's. The cops set up at the far end of the entrance ramp to get on the HOV lanes so there's no sneaking by. This morning an SUV was trying to back up a quarter mile on the shoulder of the onramp after spotting the cops at the last minute. I laughed my ass off when another cop car pulled up behind the nitwit. Have an extra helping of ticket, ya idiot.
Still in the car, this morning I was listening to the Allman Brothers' Jessica. It's not uncommon for bloggers to post favorite lyrics, and I started laughing as I thought about this one.
Jessica
Allman BrothersDa da da da dee da da da daaah da da da daaah de dahhhhhhhh.
Da da da da dee da da da duh da da da de dahhhhhhhhhhhh.
I don't know what's scarier, the fact that I Googled "Jessica" + "lyrics" + "Allman Brothers" (just in case), or the fact that I got several hits. Thank God all of them just said "instrumental".
Have you seen the new NBA playoff commercial? It's got everything - bright marquee lights, rappers, squirmy young sex-bombs and Carlos Santana. It's like it was made exclusively for Laker fans, and the rest of the country can go to hell. To be fair, it'll probably appeal to a segment of the populations in Las Vegas and Branson, Mo too. Other than that, it's utterly forgettable. In fact, I'd seen it maybe four or five times before I even realized what it was for.
I don't blog much about work, but if I leave my current place of employment, expect a whole heap o' stories to pour forth. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll be outraged (US taxpayers only).
All done, I feel better.
* ‘Ripple Fire’ is a mode whereas multiple military rockets are launched at a (usually ground) target in rapid sequence. It’s similar to machine-gun fire, but with big booms at the receiving end. I use the title for disjointed snippets and thoughts too short for their own posts.
Montreal came back from 3 games to 1 down to win their best-of-seven series against Boston. Boston star Chokin' Joe Thornton scored a grand total of zero points in the series. Montreal goes on to play Tampa Bay in the second round.
In the other game seven last night, Vancouver took on Calgary. The Canucks scored with 6 seconds left to tie, but Calgary won in OT and now advances to play Detroit.
Tonight, Toronto and Ottawa square off in their game 7. The winner takes on Philadelphia in round 2.
San Jose will meet Colorado in the other Western second round matchup.
In other hockey news, Igor Larionov announced his retirement today.
The 43-year-old Larionov, the oldest player to compete in the NHL this season, signed with New Jersey as a free agent in September. He had hoped to win a fourth Stanley Cup to cap a professional career that began in 1980 in the former Soviet Union.
"When you leave the game, it's sad," Larionov said. "It's time to move on. There are things in my mind that I want to do, but I'm not going to rush into anything."
Coke and Pepsi are both planning to introduce mid-calorie colas this summer. At first, I couldn't see the point, but I assume they'll be closer in taste to their regular offerings.
I'll probably never even try them, because I grew up drinking diet soda (mom was diabetic - I love Tab and Fresca), so there's no interest here.
In further news, advance advertising includes the phrase "half the carbs". Gee, what a surprise.
1. Never pass up an opportunity to go for a joy ride.
2. Allow the experience of fresh air and wind in your face to be pure ecstacy.
3. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
4. When it's in your best interest, practice obedience.
5. Let others know when they've invaded your territory.
6. Take frequent naps, and stretch before rising.
7. Run, romp, and play daily.
8. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.
9. Be loyal.
10. Never pretend to be something you're not.
11. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle him or her gently.
12. Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
13. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
14. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shade tree.
15. When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
16. No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout - run back and make friends.
I have a special gift. I kill comment threads. For a while there, I felt hurt by that, because nobody ever responded to my comments, and if I left the first one somewhere, the little number '1' sat there like a tombstone, telling the world that Ted killed another potential conversation. After a while I moved right past the unsettled feelings and began to enjoy it. I kill comment threads. I'm a serial comment thread killer. I wonder if there's a program for that? I wonder if I would bother to go?
In this corner of the world anyway. Get outside and do something!
Which reminded me that we haven't done a Nog Watch report for the month. Nothing special to report, other than it's still there. The surrounding contents of the shelf rotate on a semi-regular basis, but the carton of Nog remains (what an appropriate word) as Lord of all it surveys.
For those wondering what I'm babbling about, pieces of the story are here and here and here and here.
No deep analysis here, just some things that have stuck in my mind as I watch the playoffs. For more knowlegable coverage, check out Off Wing Opinion and The Hockey Pundits. Both highly recommended.
Nashville has taken two in a row at home to tie their series against powerful Detroit. This shouldn't surprise anyone, because the Red Wings have a history of getting knocked out of the playoffs in big upsets. The Sharks did it several years ago, and last year it was the Mighty Ducks. Nobody believes the Predators will actually do it, but still...
The Wings have been spoiled in recent years by spectacular goaltending. This year they had kind of a soap opera in net, but I'm tired of hearing people griping about Manny Legacy. He's not a great goaltender, but he's not as bad as they make him out to be. Plus, he got the Wings into the playoffs. The Wings are going with Curtis Joseph is goal tonight. Good luck CuJo, they're giving you a chance to do your annual playoff choke.
Montreal's Kovalev is lucky his teammates haven't practiced a little 'lynch mob justice' against him. For those who haven't heard, Kovalev was moving the puck when a stick hit him across his (heavily gloved) hand. He quit playing the puck and acted like he was hurt trying to draw a penalty, then ran into his own player. An alert Boston player took the puck and scored the game-winning goal. Oh yeah, it was overtime. Two things really piss me off about this. First, Kovalev has a history of this kind of crap, and secondly, he blamed the teammate that he ran into for it. That's twice in this series that a Montreal player has faked an injury on the ice trying to draw a penalty. Embarrassing.
On the upside, it was fun watching former player and coach Barry Melrose go off about it on television. He didn't use the word "chickenshit", but that's about all he forgot.
Philadelphia is playing great and making the Devils look bad in the process. Broduer looks ordinary.
Tampa Bay is for real. I hate them, especially Martin St. Louis who looks like Richard Simmons. I don't know why, but he just annoys me. Actually, I do know why, it's because of last years playoffs against the Washington Capitals. Yep, I'm holding a grudge.
Toronto vs. Ottawa. *Yawn* Toronto is no fun without the whining, and Ottawa reminds me of the machine-like play of Landry's Dallas Cowboys. Mats Sundin left the game last night hurt, so unless he can come back, Toronto is done.
Colorado, Dallas and St. Louis just look old. All still good teams, but this year speed is king (Tampa, Nashville, Boston, San Jose), and these teams are showing their age.
Those speed teams I mentioned are just making the plays. They seem to be in the right place at the right time. Boston and San Jose in particular are fast and tough. These aren't prissy little speedsters, they check hard, move people off the puck, and plant someone in the crease on offense.
Calgary and Vancouver are too far west for this east-coast guy. I haven't really seen either play all year, and won't until later rounds when they might come on a little earlier. Kiprusof was the Sharks backup goalie last year, and it's beginning to look like San Jose is becoming a goalie factory - Shields, Nabokov, Kiprusof, Teskala, and I understand they've got a couple great prospects still in the minors.
The Sharks are going to be good for a long time. Young, fast, and good goaltending.
Being a computer consultant in the DC area, I've worked for a few different government agencies over the years. The following is an actual telegram received when I worked at the Department of State, regarding, ah... budget matters... at an embassy overseas. I edited out some of the 'official' jargon to clean it up some.
SUBJECT: HALF MOON OVER GABORONE1. IN REVIEWING ANALYSIS OF FUNDING PROVIDED FOR CURRENT FISCAL YEAR, POST WAS DISMAYED TO FIND THAT THE BUREAU DELETED DOLLARS 3,000 FOR THE LEASE OF A PORTABLE TOILET. POST HESITATES TO MAKE A STINK OVER PIDDLING PROBLEMS, BUT FROM WHERE WE SIT, IT'S IMPORTANT.
2. POST HAS REPEATEDLY POINTED OUT IN CABLES AND TO BUREAU VISITORS THE THIS NEWLY CONSTRUCTED CHANCERY DOES NOT HAVE TOILET FACILITIES FOR OUTSIDE PERSONNEL LIKE GUARDS AND GARDENERS AND NIGHTWATCHMEN AND DRIVERS AND DELIVERYMEN. PREVIOUSLY, SUCH PERSONNEL DISCHARGED THEMSELVES FREELY AND PUBLICLY ON THE CHANCERY GROUNDS. RECOGNIZING OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO HALT WASTE, AND NOT WISHING TO BE IN BAD ODOR WITH OUR NEIGHBORS, POST RENTED THE PORTA-POTTY TO MAKE UP FOR DESIGN DEFICIENCY.
3. WE REALIZE THE BUREAU IS NO LONGER FLUSH WITH FUNDS. UPON REFLECTION, POST AGREES THAT WE MAY HAVE USED THE WORNG POT AND THE OUTHOUSE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO BE FUNDED FROM THE S&E ACCOUNT. SINCE ONLY A MODEST ONE-HOLER IS REQUIRED TO RELIEVE OVERSIGHT AND SHOULD QUALIFY AS A "NON-RESIDENTIAL STRUCTURE", POST BELIEVES THE JOHNNY-ON-THE-SPOT SHOULD BE FUNDED UNDER LEASE FUNDS IN LOO OF ORIGINAL.
4. UNLESS INSTRUCTED OTHERWISE, POST INTENDS TO PROCESS FUTURE RENTAL PAYMENTS FROM SAID ACCOUNT.
It's been one of those odd weekends where you look back and realize that you've gotten a lot done without really trying. Besides the rocket launch yesterday, today we cleaned the aquarium, cleaned some junk out of the attic for bulk pickup next weekend, had a nice Easter dinner, baked a couple of batches of chocolate chip cookies, and still managed to get a nap.
I'm sitting here now with an ice-cold diet pepsi and a piping hot cup of tea, watching the hockey game. I'm pleasantly tired and looking forward to a good night's sleep. It's supposed to rain all night. Oh yeah.
Which doesn't bother me nearly as much as knowing that someone else in charge thought it was a fine idea.
(in the extended entry)
FYI, Gabby Hayes is undisputed king of the western sidekicks characters.
I posted something a couple of days ago crowing about myself, and ended with this line:
We now return to our modest and self-depreciating self.
I'd just like to thank everyone who didn't point and laugh at me for not using the correct phrase "self-deprecating".
Bragging on yourself is bad enough, but to say something stoopid while doing it is downright embarrassing. Mmmm, foot. The other white meat.
Forget pink and purple paisleys
Little mellow yellow daisies
Ain't no pot of gold
In her rainbow
Her favorite color is chrome
Trace Adkins
Now that is pole-dancing music, country-style.
It's playoff time, so you'll be bored to tears thrilled to know there'll be more hockey-related posts than usual for a while. I'll try to keep it to some sane level, but I have ice in my veins and frozen rubber in my pocket.
That doesn't sound right, does it? Gives me the squicky mental picture of dating Ted Williams' head. Ick.
By the age of 18, the average American has witnessed 200,000 acts of violence on television, most of them occurring during Game 1 of the NHL playoff series. -- Steve RushinA puck is a hard rubber disc that hockey players strike when they can't hit one another. -- Jimmy Cannon
Ice hockey is a form of disorderly conduct in which the score is kept. -- Doug Larson
Half the game is mental; the other half is being mental. -- Jim McKenny
How would you like a job where, every time you make a mistake, a big red light goes on and 18,000 people boo? -- Jacques Plante
I went to a fight the other night and a hockey game broke out. -- Rodney Dangerfield
We take the shortest route to the puck and arrive in ill humor. -- Bobby Clarke
I'm not dumb enough to be a goalie. -- Brett Hull
The Washington Capitals, my second-favorite hockey team, have won the lottery for the first pick of the upcoming draft and will almost certainly take Russian forward Alexander Ovechkin, who is compared to Pittsburgh great Mario Lemieux.
I know Victor is one happy camper!
Now, if I could just get Nic to post pictures of herself doing the happy dance...
Down on the bottom of the right-hand column, permanent bait for the 'bot.
Idiots piss me off. Thanks to Simon for the tip.*
*The referenced expression of appreciation was interpreted and approved by whoever-the-hell is really in charge in Hong Kong.
Or you can just read a sports story about cricket:
Vice-captain Yousuf Youhana, who had struck a fighting century in the first test at Multan, was on 33 on an increasingly friendly wicket for batsmen.Pakistan had resumed on their overnight 61 for one with Farhat hitting leg spinner Anil Kumble for four in Tuesday's first over and then driving left arm paceman Irfan Pathan backward of point for another boundary.
Yasir Hameed joined in, immaculately driving Pathan on the up through the off side.
But the 26-year-old was out for 19, edging a wide delivery from medium pacer Ajit Agarkar to Rahul Dravid at second slip.
Agarkar was nippy in his five-over first spell, which got him one wicket for 17, hitting Inzamam on the helmet with a well-directed bouncer.
The Pakistan captain shrugged off the blow, cutting Agarkar behind square for four and then slashing him through the covers.
Huh? Don't try to explain, it's rhetorical.
Prison birthday cards, because sometimes being your bitch just isn't enough.
The season is over and I finished a respectable 6th out of twenty teams. Not too shabby, considering I had no idea what I was doing when the season started and had to learn the rules as I went.
Highlights for the year for me were one glorious day when I stood alone in first place. I was fighting for third as recently as three weeks ago. Third through sixth were closely contested.
Offensively, I was in the top five for goals scored, power play points, short handed points, game winning goals and shots on goal. I also finished on the plus side for the +/- stat. I consider that a victory because I spent much of the season in the negative and made several trades specifically to improve in that area.
For goaltending, I was in the top half for wins and shutouts, but only because I had three goalies that played a lot. They weren’t very good, but enough mediocre adds up. Everyone ahead of me was significantly better in net.
Early on I talked about some things I’d noticed in our league, and now that it’s over I think those observations held up pretty well.
Lessons learned: Play lots of games. Get starters for every slot on your roster. A lot of teams fall behind because they have marginal players on the fourth line. They don’t play often, and when they do they don’t get many minutes.
Manage injuries. I was lucky, and only suffered four major injuries to my team all year. Three I was able to put on IR and wait for their return, and the fourth player returned to the ice sooner than anyone expected. Move those injured players and pick up replacements as soon as possible. When the injured players return, cut loose your least-productive players. Which brings us to…
Don’t be sentimental. If your favorite player is having a lousy year, trade for value or otherwise get rid of him. Same thing if you stock your team with your favorite team’s players. Diversify, and don’t get too attached.
Consider trades early. By this I mean trading hot players while they’re still hot, when they’re worth maximum value. The perfect example of this for me was Atlanta Thrashers goalie Pasi Numinem. He was insanely hot for the first third of the season, and I should have realized that he (and the entire Atlanta team) couldn’t keep the pace up. He faded badly, and I should’ve traded him before the all-star break for another scorer or solid everyday goalie.
So I had fun, and I'll probably play again next year. Any fellow Munuvians interested, start thinking about it and we might get enough for a "fun" league amongst ourselves. You too Nic, you're an honorary Munuvian as far as I'm concerned.
The San Jose Sharks found one more marvel in their bottomless bag.Brad Stuart tied the game with two goals in the final 20 seconds of regulation, and Vincent Damphousse scored with 3:10 into overtime to send San Jose into the playoffs with a 4-3 victory over the Los Angeles Kings on Sunday.
With three goals in 3½ minutes, the Sharks capped the best season in franchise history with a stunning comeback in both teams' season finales. The Pacific Division champions, seeded second in the Western Conference with 43 victories and 104 points, wound up with the NHL's third-best record one year after finishing 25th.
I said early in the season that following the Sharks was going to be a roller-coaster ride this year. I meant the ups and downs bit, I had no idea I'd be having this much fun on the way!
According to the news last night, pole dancing is the newest fitness fad for ladies. So be it, who am I to argue? Now just on the off chance that some wonderful lady wants to pole dance for me, here's a few songs I'd love to hear during the show:
Feel Like Making Love - Bad Company
South City Midnight Lady - Doobie Brothers
Dreadlock Holiday - 10cc
C'mon folks, let's hear from the peanut gallery. Guys, what would you want to hear? Ladies, what songs would inspire you to give your best performance?
(6/8/2005) Update: Besides the great suggestions still trickling in in the comments, I've collected a lot of them into one long list of "Favorite Stripper Music". Enjoy, feel free to add to the list via the comments, and most of all, thanks!
(8/22/2005) Update: Up until now, when someone asked about where to find pole dancing lessons, all I could do was offer generic advice about where to look in their local areas, and to wish them luck.
Until now.
This first link, A Pole Lot of Fun, looks to be a 'party' style setup, similar to the way Tupperware used to work.
We bring the pole, you bring the friends and together we create a magical night of fun, laughter, and support.
Follow that link above and see if there's someone local to you.
This link, PoleStars, is based in the UK and Australia. It looks like this is more of the traditional class instruction on the art of pole dancing and strip tease.
Both sites offer equipment and clothing too. If you try either of these, or something else you've found in your area, drop by and leave a comment to let everyone know how it went.
This came via email, and I haven't checked the numbers (not going to, either), but the gist of it is correct.
Compared with Gasoline Think a gallon of gas is expensive? This puts things in perspective.
Diet Snapple (16 oz @ $1.29) = $10.32 per gallon
Lipton Ice Tea (16 oz @ $1.19) = $9.52 per gallon
Gatorade (20 oz @ $1.59) = $10.17 per gallon
Ocean Spray (16 oz @ $1.25) = $10.00 per gallon
Brake Fluid (12 oz @ $3.15) = $33.60 per gallon
Vick's Nyquil (6 oz @ $8.35) = $178.13 per gallon
Pepto Bismol (4 oz @ $3.85) = $123.20 per gallon
Whiteout (7 oz @ $1.39) = $25.42 per gallon
Scope (8 oz @ $3.99) = $59.04 per gallon
And this is the REAL KICKER...
Evian water (9 oz @ $1.49) = $21.19 per gallon?!?
$21.19 for WATER - and the buyers don't even know the source.
So, the next time you're at the pump, be glad your car doesn't run on water, Scope, or Whiteout, or - God forbid - Pepto Bismal or Nyquil.
Paging Mr. Green. Paging Mr. Green.
We've all gotten those Nigerian scam emails, but did you know there's a group of people who - like fellow Munuvian Mr. Green - live to mess with those scumbag fools? Going one better, they ask for photographic evidence of the scammer's sincerity, preferably holding up a sign or otherwise doing something unusual to prove their authenticity.
Look in the extended entry for a couple hilarious examples. Found on Eros Blog (not safe for work).
A pragmatic approach.
(in the extended entry)
Bandwidth alert (~1MB)
Video not safe for some workplaces
Bell South is sending out mailers for their new dial-up internet service.
Rocket = fast.
I approve.
I'm watching Maine vs Harvard in the NCAA hockey version of March Madness. College hockey is a treat, the skill level is surprisingly good at this level.
I love satellite TV.
It doesn't matter what you say, because you're not going to be believed. Might as well just shut up and take your lumps.
(in the extended entry)
I'm not normally a "bathroom" blogger, but it seems to me that if you're rattling around in a stall to get one of those sanitary seat protectors perfectly placed, and when you finally sit down noises emerge that come straight from a Lovecraft novel, then the last thing you'd want circling your nether regions is flammable tissue paper.
Saturday night I was watching the Capitals game on TV, and saw that they had a bunch of former Caps there. They were celebrating 30 years of the Caps or something, and I thought to myself "Man, that would've been cool to see."
Then it dawned on me, Mookie and I were supposed to go to that game.
Victor, Nic, and anyone else too polite to mention our no-show, sorry about that. It was just one of those complete and total blank moments.
Up top, another go-round for the most popular Rocket Jones banner, judging from the number of positive responses.
Stage right, a new tagline for the archive. If you've got one you like, leave it in the comments and we'll add it.
I haven't forgotten the next series of Build It posts, on Box Hockey. Life got busy and I haven't had a chance to get going on it. Very soon, I promise.
Likewise on the special pages I talked about last week. That's become my number 1 priority blog-wise, because it's the most important personally. But it's just so darned hard to do. You'll understand why when you see it.
That's what my computer announces loudly when I shut down at the end of the day. There's no sneaking out early for me.
What kind of custom sound-bites do you have loaded on your machine?
First they tempt the young with the minor demons FrankenBerry, Count Chocula and Boo Berry, who are truly abominations unto His eye.
Once in the unholy grip of the sugar coma, they roll out the big guns (in the extended entry).
I had one of those 'oh shit' moments this morning when I opened my email.
If you've been reading regularly, you've heard me mention that we're installing brand new computer software which bears a remarkable resemblance to Linda Lovelace.
Last week, my boss's boss asked me a couple of questions about the old and new software. I was on my way out the door, so I gave some off-the-top-of-my-head answers. The next morning I came in and wrote up a detailed analysis based on his questions because I wasn't satisfied with what I'd originally told him. I sent it to him via email and forgot about it.
Since it was an informal email, it was written much in the style of this blog: full of odd contractions, slang, quick jokes and asides, but it did get the message across. Here are the last lines:
I feel like Tevya: on the one hand… on the other hand… Oy!
Ted
So this morning I open my email and get a very nice thank you for the "excellent write-up - balanced and reasoned." The thank you came from my boss's boss's boss's... aw hell, it's from four levels above the guy I sent it too. The forwarding trail shows where each boss in turn read it and sent it on up the line.
It's good analysis, but I'm waiting for someone to come talk to me about how to compose 'official' correspondence.
A lot of people seem to really have it in for hippies, and it's just not fair. I grew up in the 60's, and my best friend from those days had an uncle who had a barbershop right on the edge of the Haight Ashbury district of San Fransisco (talk about poor location!). My friend and I would visit his uncle during our summer vacations, and since he was working, we'd basically run the streets all day. Remember the days when you could do that without worry? Here's what I experienced: like any other group, there were good people and bad people. They didn't stink, they weren't all stoned all day, a lot of them had jobs, or at least something that they worked at. Nobody ever offered me drugs, and as a child I was treated with respect and kindness. Pretty freakin' horrible, eh?
Yet a lot of people who start raising hell when someone labels an ethnic group with an offensive word or stereotype have no problem joking about "smelly hippies". Enough with the negativity, hypocrites.
Learn something about what being a hippie really meant. You don't have to agree with them, I don't. But having different beliefs doesn't mean you have to look down at them either.
In some ways, hippies were the ultimate 'minimal government' movement. "Do your own thing", "whatever turns you on" and other phrases all boil down to "Leave me alone". They were never, and could never get organized enough to become a real political force.
Being a hippie was more than long hair and beads and bell bottoms. A lot of people dressed like hippies, because it was trendy. For a while in the 80's a lot of people dressed like Rambo, that didn't make them mercenaries.
So there's my minor-league vent about hippies. And here's a twofer: take most everything I said above and apply it to bikers too.
So anyone who's read the Sunday funnies today and saw this joke in Pickles is wondering how my dad anticipated that.
Parents just know stuff. Like how my folks always knew when I came home from school that I'd cut a class or two, even though the school hadn't called and they were at work all day anyways. They just knew.
I once told my mom that I was glad they named me Ted. When she asked why, I said that it's what everyone called me. Pretty smart (ass), eh? I probably got smacked, or at least sent outside to pester the neighborhood.
Oh, and that whole 'cutting class' thing... the rule in our house has always been "Do as I say, not as I do". Right Mookie?
I was just mildly chewed out after a meeting with the managers. They understand my frustrations, and admired the descriptiveness of the phrase, but I'm no longer allowed to say that "the system goes down more than Linda Lovelace."
It's been more than a month since our last Nog Watch entry, so I took a look inside the work fridge this morning. The carton is still there, apparently undisturbed, although someone obviously went through the shelves and tossed the worst of the science experiments.
I noticed that as the light shined through the carton, you can tell that the carton is half full. Some unholy impulse made me pick up the carton and give it a shake. It doesn't slosh. *shudder*
Heard from my dad, and thought I'd share some of it with you.
Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. This is a great example.I went to the store the other day. I was only in there for about 5 minutes. When I came out there was a cop writing out a parking ticket.
I went up to him and said, "Come on, buddy, how about giving a senior a break?" He ignored me and continued writing the ticket.
I called him an asshole. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires.
So I called him a piece of horse shit. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.
Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes, the more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote. I didn't give a crap.
My car was parked around the corner. I try to have a little fun each day. It's important at my age.
Over at Silflay Hraka, Bigwig talked about a theoretical construct called the CD Potlatch. He also included his list of music from his iPod, and invited folks to make fun of his musical taste. I didn't, but I'm always interested in seeing other people's music collections, because tastes vary so much.
Take my music list for example (Excel format). A lot of my music was purchased when I was a DJ, so there's a little bit of everything in there, including lots of compilations. Because I had to handle requests, there's not much on the list that I didn't listen to at least semi-regularly. You can see some patterns in the list too. For instance, I used to do a couple parties a year at a VA Hospital, so I have a lot of Big Band music for the old-timers. But I love Big Band music, so that was never a problem. I also noticed that the list isn't quite complete, because I have some instrumental 'dinner music' that isn't there. I'll have to figure out where those CD's are. I don't have much classical either, but none at all made it onto the list. *scratching head*
If Bigwig can do it, so can I. Go on, make fun of my taste, I can take it.
Former Washington Capital Calle Johannson came out of retirement today to sign with the Toronto Maple Leafs.
The Washington Post also reports that Ottawa Senators plane is scheduled to head back to Canada this afternoon after the 3pm EST trading deadline, in anticipation of taking Caps goalie Olaf Kolzig and defenseman Brendan Witt along.
Forwards Bates Battaglia, Kip Miller, and Mike Grier are also expected to be moved before the trading deadline, meaning the Caps might have the deepest minor league hockey roster currently playing at the NHL level.
This is beyond depressing.
Mojo Boogie I been to New Orleans, I sure had a wonderful time
I been to New Orleans, I sure had a wonderful time
I was high, high as a Georgia pineYou know, my auntie carried me all down on Rampart Street
I seen everybody I wanted to meet
She said, J.B., son, stop and listen to me,
They got something knock you off of your feetThey got the mojo boogie
Mojo boogie
They got the mojo boogie, begin to slide on down- J. B. Lenoir
The Johnny Winter version of Mojo Boogie was cranked on the way to work this morning. I've been in a nostalgic mood lately as I catalog my CD collection. Billie Holiday is on as I write this, and B.B. King is on deck.
Dear Tide,
I'm writing to say what an excellent product you have. I've used it since the beginning of married life, when my mom told me it was the best.
In fact, about a month ago, I spilled some red wine on my new white blouse.
My husband started to berate me about my drinking problem. One thing led to another and I ended up with a lot of his blood on my white blouse as well.
I tried to get the stain out using a bargain detergent, but it just wouldn't come out.
After a quick trip out, I stopped and got a bottle of liquid Tide with bleach alternative, and all of the stains came out!
They came out so well, in fact, that the DNA tests were negative!
I thank you once again for a great product.
Well, gotta go. I have to write a letter to the Hefty bag people.
Sincerely,
Jim at Snooze Button Dreams has a wonderful list of things today's kids should know. I'm proud to say I've tried to hammer most of these into the thick skulls of my kids as they grew up.
Parenting tip: bigger hammer.
Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush, and W.R. Grace Co. to become:
Polygram Records, Warner Bros., and Zesta Crackers to become:
3M to merge with Goodyear to become:
Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining to become:
Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers to become:
Grey Poupon and Docker Pants to become:
Knott's Berry Farm and the National Organization of Women to become:
Tonight (Monday, March 8) on TCM - Turner Classic Movies, beginning at 8pm Eastern Standard, are three Sherlock Holmes movies in a row.
Like most folks, I like to bring in a few personal items to put here and there around my work area. I've only ever had one problem, and I honestly didn't see it coming. From my days as a serious guitar player, I had some posters of a few dream guitars I hoped to own one day, so I brought them in to hang on my bulletin board. One day I came in to find one poster (in the extended entry - work safe in all but the most conservative environments) taken down by the boss, with a note telling me that pornography would not be tolerated.
I know she was talking about the woman in the bikini, but to me, the sexiest part of the picture is that beautiful Dean axe. Guitar players reading this are nodding right along with me.
Mid-life means that you become more reflective. You start pondering the 'big' questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?
Here's a list of great team names you might consider for your next fantasy league:
Fluffy White Bunnies
Yellow Brick Roadkill
Fridge Raiders
Bobbin' Monicas
Fighting Pacifists
Tijuana Tabledancers
Red Headed Step Children
Northeast Southwesterners
Altoona Fish
Battling Budgies
Boston Stranglers
Brooklyn Draft Dodgers
Santa Monica Lewinskis
Scoregasm
Sears Craftsmen
Anhauser Buschwhackers
Pabst Smears
Iowa Cowtippers
Cleveland Earthtones
and of course my favorite: Rockets
(answers in the extended entry)
1. How long did the Hundred Years War last?
2. Which country makes Panama hats?
3. From which animal do we get catgut?
4. In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?
5. What is a camel's hair brush made of?
6. The Canary Islands in the Pacific are named after what animal?
7. What was King George VI's first name?
8. What color is a purple finch?
9. Where are Chinese Gooseberries from?
10. What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?
1. 116 years
2. Ecuador
3. Sheep and Horses
4. November
5. Squirrel fur
6. Dogs
7. Albert
8. Crimson
9. New Zealand
10. Orange
Like someone said in the comments, this guy is every 10 year old's dream dad.
The leader of the Japanese cult that used Sarin gas in an attack on the Tokyo subway system got the death penalty today. Appeals are expected to last another decade.
The recipe for prison hootch, Pruno. I had tears in my eyes after reading this, it's that funny. If you do decide to try this, please let me know how it comes out.
Thanks to Blackfive for the pointer.
That’s a tiny title for a subject as big as the universe. I have the pleasure of having several real artists as co-workers. I’m not talking about making-a-living-at-it artists, but each of them, in their own way, considers themselves an artist, and I agree with them. These are guys who work for a living. Some artists live for art, but like everyone else, most artists know that it’s kinda nice to have a roof over one’s head, and you do what needs doing to pay the rent. It makes for interesting conversations.
What got me to thinking about this subject is that a co-worker, Kyle, mentioned that the Hirschhorn Museum is having an event this weekend called 24 Hour Psycho. It’s kind of an odd one, and we got to discussing aspects of it. Briefly, an artist has stretched the Hitchcock classic into a full 24-hour event, apparently by viewing most of the movie in slow motion. There’s more to it of course (there’d better be), but that’s the gist of it. My attitude is that I’d love to be able to say I saw it, without actually inflicting myself with the performance, because it sounds deadly dull.
We’ve often talked about what constitutes art and what it means. I always figured I have a pedestrian “I know what I like” kind of taste, while feeling that I was somehow missing out on something because I had no formal education in it. More than once I’ve suggested that we go to the Smithsonian or other art museums as a group so I could pick their brains on what they saw compared to what I saw.
I’ve come to realize that formal training doesn't necessarily increase your appreciation. At best it gives you the ability to describe a work in esoteric terms, making one sound like a pretentious ass. At worst, you wind up with a superiority complex, which actually makes you a pretentious ass. Appreciation can be instinctive, but appreciation and understanding are two different things.
Many people’s exposure to art amounts to picking up a copy of Smithsonian magazine in a waiting room and glancing at the pictures in an article you don’t bother reading. Not a thing wrong with that, but sometimes in order to understand art you need context.
Say you’re wandering through a gallery, and there’s a warehouse pallet on the floor, with a couple of crates on top. Maybe one is opened, and the packing peanuts are scattered around on the floor.
Why in the world is there a velvet rope barricade around that?
The little exhibit sheet might give you a few words about it, but many people don’t bother to read it. The brass plaque next to it tells you even less. But if you knew that it’s saying something about, oh, shipping artworks, then it might start to make a little sense. The seemingly random elements take on meaning, maybe.
I’m impressed by art that needs no contextual clues to make sense. A beautiful piece of instrumental music, a painted landscape or a perfectly sculpted piece evokes an emotion. You don’t need to know what the composer thought, only what it makes you think about as you hear it. If you don’t recognize the subject of a sculpture, at the very least you’ll know in your own soul whether it is pleasing to you.
Context doesn’t have to be universal either. Willie Nelson has written hundreds of beautiful songs, few of which would appeal to someone who hates country music. That doesn’t diminish the beauty, it only limits the scope of admirers. Once again, there’s not a thing wrong with that. Taste is individual.
If you don’t get it, it’s not your fault. There might not be anything to get, or it might be so alien to your viewpoint that you’d never understand enough to get it. The percentage of art that actually means something beyond the moment of its creation is small enough that it approaches zero.
And that might be the true genius of classic art.
The Mona Lisa is priceless, because it matters still. A sonnet by Keats, a Vivaldi concerto, photos of Yosemite by Adams and the Taj Mahal transcend time and culture to remain meaningful to human hearts.
Within thirty years, Madonna will be lumped in with Neil Sedaka as moderately successful musical celebrities of their day. Enthusiasts and collectors will be able to spew volumes of information about them, but most folks will vaguely recognize their songs and some might even know who the performer is.
I’m kind of wandering all over the surface of the subject here, and I don’t exactly know how to end this. I’m not even sure I had a specific point to make, other than that everyone should take a little time out once in a while and indulge your spirit with a visit to an art gallery or museum, or to an event you might not normally attend. Don’t try too hard to judge or understand, just observe and absorb, letting your emotions ebb and flow as they will. It’s good for the soul.
Laughing Wolf posted a wonderful piece about a ballet he recently attended. I’m definitely not the ballet type, but after reading his remarks I think I’d like to see one, just for the experience. Who knows, I might actually like it.
Mostly images of the American Southwest, in black and white.
At this rate, I don't even have to worry about going to heck.
Spotted this at California Yankee, who's only slightly less evil than sleeping dachshund puppies.
We don't have to bother with that pesky election nonsense...
(in the extended entry)
Thanks to Daniel for the pointer.
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Hah, fooled you! Maybe someday, but not today.
I realize that starting a blog is like cutting your first record. You've got years of material stored up inside you, and you can pick and choose a personal 'best of' to get a rip roaring start. It's the second album that separates the Elvi from the My Sharona's (to completely mangle a metaphore or whatever the heck that is). Fortunately, I'm ancient and have a vast store of made up bull experiences and stories to draw from.
So remember, when you leave your comments, "Do you really want to hurt me?"
Thank you, thank you very much.
Sometimes in traffic, when some chucklehead really pisses me off, I take a deep breath and remember the words spoken by Lt. Miller (Tom Hanks) in Saving Private Ryan:
"Gentlemen, we can do this with a stickybomb."
When you pull into the parking lot at work with the song "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" rocking at full volume, your co-workers all cheerfully greet you while trying to casually locate the nearest cover and concealment.
In a continuing effort to be fair and balanced, I've googled up a bunch of image links of firemen for Susie, Jennifer and other interested readers. Enjoy, and I hope it distracts you from life's wobbles for a little bit.
But first, a joke:
Why do policemen have bigger balls than firemen?
They sell more tickets.
Now these links will seem so much better in comparison. Some aren't really firemen, but I don't want to hear any complaints. Comprende?
Fireman.
A wrestler called "The Fireman"?
Fireman.
Fireman.
Fireman.
Fireman.
Fireman.
Y'know, while finding these I came across some old old photos of firemen, as far back as 1880's. That got me to thinking about a guy here in town who collects and restores old fire engines. I wonder if he's still around? Hmmmm... maybe something for a future post on Rocket Jones.
A new aphrodisiac pizza is being test-marketed. Called Pizzagra, it features a heart-shaped crust.
The Pizzagra toppings include:* Tomato, garlic and basil base: Basil is a renowned stimulant, helping to boost sex drive, fertility and produce a general sense of well being for body and mind. Garlic traditionally stirs sexual desires and has been used for centuries to cure everything from the common cold to heart ailments.
* Artichoke: The French once believed women who ate artichokes were reputedly loose.
* Asparagus spears are rich in vitamin E, which is thought to stimulate the production of sex hormones.
* Red peppers are said to stimulate circulation.
* Onions: Egyptian priests were forbidden to eat onions, as it was once believed they stirred up passions.
* Ginger, which stimulates circulation and heightens sensitivity.
* Cardamom, which contains two androgens (hormones that increase sexual desire in men) and cineole, a compound known to stimulate the central nervous system.
* Chocolate spread: Chocolate is a popular aphrodisiac containing the chemical, phenlethamine, which is released naturally in the brain when humans fall in love.
* Banana slices: Bananas are rich in potassium and B vitamins, necessities for sex hormone production.
No mention is made if that's all on one pizza. Yuck.
Thanks to The Meatriarch for indirectly pointing the way to this story. His link to Naked News led me to watch their preview, which had the pizza story. A little google action and voila!
*Oh yeah, their joke: "I wonder if it has a self-rising crust?"
NASA has announced their new Atkins-friendly 'space food' tablet rations.
*or politicians for that matter.
The Washington Capitals sent Peter Bondra to the Ottawa Senators for a prospect and a second-round draft pick in 2005. The Sens are essentially renting Bondra for the rest of the season as he becomes an unrestricted free agent at the end of the season. The local hope is that Bondra can make a run for the Stanley Cup with the Senators, then be resigned during the off-season.
Whoever has Bondra on their fantasy hockey league team should prepare for a boost in his already good stats. Ottawa is a goal scoring juggernaut, and just got better.
I've been informed that lately I've made several posts that are rather... insensitive to women. To achieve more fair and balanced blogging, I give you the following "stupid men jokes" (thanks to Brain Candy).
How do you get a man to stop biting his nails?
Make him wear shoes.
What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?
You didn't hold the pillow down long enough.
How can you tell when a man is well hung?
When you can just barely slip your finger in between his neck and the noose.
Why do only 10% of men make it to heaven?
Because if they all went, it would be Hell.
Why do female black widow spiders kill the males after mating?
To stop the snoring before it starts.
Why can't men get mad cow disease?
Because they're all pigs.
Q: What do the Japanese do when they have an erection?
A: They vote.
The wisdom of Elvis, as it applies in Ted's Universe.
Update: Work-safe, except for conservative environments. Happy now?
I dreamt I met the Pillsbury Doughboy and went to poke his tummy. In a tragic case of mistaken identity, he turned out to be an albino midget sumo wrestler, and he kicked my ass.
Oldsmobile, soon to be pinin' for the fjords.
The hottest car I've ever driven was a 1972 Olds Cutlass Supreme 4-door. Looked like a family car, left the line like a scalded cat and never looked back.
They knew how to name 'em too (in the extended entry).
Yesterday's dinner turned out, uh, ok. The taste was good but bland instead of the delicate I was going for. The recipes are promising enough that I'm going to try it again, adjusting things here and there. Maybe at some point I'll post them.
There's a new category on Rocket Jones, called Cult Flicks. It will include the reviews of those odd little films I love so much, and related nonsense as well.
Speaking of related, West Virginia (sorry, cheap joke). I was in SunCoast video today, perusing selections for next weekend's triple-points extravaganza, and talked to the manager about special ordering some things. I recently purchased a DVD from them and found the company's website, which has all kinds of classic crappy movies that look right up my alley, but SunCoast doesn't carry them. Believe it or not, SunCoast will not order them for me. Rotten customer service, that.
On the plus side, I did spot a copy of Trinity Is Still My Name on the rack!
Finally, in a perverse twilight zone-ish reversal, wife Liz and I went to Sears today to pick out my Valentine's Day present. A new washing machine (ours conked out friday night). Oh joy. I've never done so before, but she's getting a new toaster for her birthday. That'll teach her, you betcha. Plus, I'll have weeks of great blogging for you to enjoy as I recover from my injuries.
Update: In the "When it rains it pours" category, my shop television just went bosoms-to-the-sky. I don't need much for TV, but this 13" replacement I snagged from the spare bedroom is for the birds. I mean, Christy Canyon looks flat! (link not work safe, scroll down a bit)
I just saw a Chick-fil-a ad for their new Cow Superhero calendar, and I want one. Google doesn't find any online yet, so no link.
In the extended entry (work safe).
I can see why Microsoft is upset. Take a look at this!!! Even non-technical types should look it over, it's not as complicated as you'd think.
Josh: "All I'm saying is, if you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop to get a beer."
Donna: "If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights."
-- West Wing --
Edmonton Oilers goalie Ty Conklin looked over and saw teammate Mike Bishai trading punches with Serge Aubin from the Atlanta Thrashers' bench.He wanted to watch, but with Thrashers netminder Pasi Nurminen ready to go, Conklin had his own business to take care of.
Conklin and Nurminen brawled at center ice to cap a wild brawl late in Edmonton's 5-1 victory the Thrashers on Wednesday night.
The melee resulted in 12 fighting majors, 10 game misconducts and two minors for 164 penalty minutes.
"It looked like a pretty normal game going into the third period, and then a number of bizarre circumstances created what ended up being great entertainment," Oilers coach Craig MacTavish said.
Lifted from Off Wing Opinion, who I found thanks to Nic.
And since we're reading a little hockey, check out the Meatriarch's ideas on changes to the current rules. Makes sense to me, except for the last one. But then, nobody will ever mistake me for a little guy.
Over at Who Tends the Fires, Denita asks the embarrassing question: what's on your desk?
I cleaned straightened my desk last weekend, so it's not nearly as bad as it was. All the boring details are in the extended entry.
And now it's your turn.
PC, monitor, keyboard and mouse
mouse pad
monitor stand
webcam* sitting on an old old can of Mt. Dew
phone & phone book
stapler
magic marker
several 3.5" diskettes
empty bottle of Rolaides
bottle of glasses lens cleaner
pump bottle of Gold Bond body lotion
several paperclips and binder clips of various sizes
pile of balsa scraps, small cardboard tubes and toothpicks
retired model rocket and stand
McDonald's bobblehead moose toy
salvaged hard drive platter used as a coaster
TV remote
DVD remote
VCR remote
PC speakers and headphones
surge suppressor
CD tower (full)
couple of pens
nail clippers
post-it pad
six AA batteries
digital camera, USB cable and extra memory disks
bottle of Elmer's Carpenter's Wood Glue
glue stick
scissors
stack of assorted papers to file
paperback book Mookie lent me a couple of months ago
parts for three semi-completed rockets (one of them is 4' tall)
dust rag for monitor screen
dust
*I've used the webcam maybe a dozen times, mostly to talk to a good friend's granddaughter. We make goofy faces at each other.
Grand Forks AFB, North Dakota.
321 SPS
D Flight
321 SPG
321 Bomb Wing
Ramstein AB, Germany
Flugtag Airshow Disaster
EISD
... I'll explain later (probably tomorrow)
Traffic lights would look like this.
Woman's chastity belt set off airport security alarm.
Yesterday when I got home from work, there was one of those dreaded brown-and-yellow tags on the front door informing me that UPS had been there but no one was home to sign for the package. The form said they'd be back again and when, of course nobody would be home for that scheduled time either.
About an hour later, the doorbell rang. It was the UPS guy. He said he'd been making a pickup nearby, so he thought he'd try to deliver to our house again since he was in the neighborhood. That was a nice piece of customer service!
To be a Phipps is to love cheese, it's just something that runs in the family. So this was no surprise.
Thanks to LeeAnn (who else?) for pointing this one out.
This funny story was posted to the Rec.Models.Rockets newsgroup. There was no attribution. Enjoy.
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.
Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.
Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle.at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness, all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.
I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently required when riding. Little did I suspect.
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it-it was that close.
I hate to run over animals.and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for "Banzai!" or maybe "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street.and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.
I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel.
This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.
This was an evil attack squirrel of death!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in, well, I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle, my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.
The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand.I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked. Sort of. Spectacularly sort of, so to speak.
Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger.
That is one dangerous squirrel.
And now he has a patrol car.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.
As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
In wartime, Q-boats (aka "mystery ships") were ships that carried hidden guns and crew. Designed to look harmless, their purpose was to lure submarines and aircraft in close before unmasking their true nature and blasting away at the bad guys.
Our county does something similar with vehicles. Occasionally, they'll obtain a car or truck - drug dealer or drag racer confiscation* - and the county will turn it into an unmarked police car. Their latest is a silver Cadillac Escalade SUV with tinted windows, and there isn't a flashing light or extra antenna to be seen - until it's too late.
So if you're ever driving through Prince William County in Virginia, and you see a purple Corvette waiting to make a right turn at an intersection, slow down or you'll have a not-so-good story to tell later.
*In this area, getting busted street racing is automatic grounds for not only losing your license, but your vehicle too.
I put that little referrer's routine down at the bottom of my right hand column a while back. Today, according to Extreme Counter, a porn site about "Free Teen Movie Galleries" referred to Rocket Jones twice. I wonder if they're not targeting blogs with that routine, just to get a free mention. It's spam, but I wouldn't know what kind to call it.
No link to them, it's down at the bottom of the right column if you're interested. I haven't visited them, so I don't know what's at the other end. Caveat emptor.*
*did I spell that right?
Over at Velociworld, Kim talks about a Monkey Division bazooka toy he found on eBay.
That got me to reminiscing in his comments about my first really memorable Christmas gun (we were big on toy guns, deal with it).
Which led to me googling for information about this: The Secret Sam Attache Case. Man, I remember when toys were cool.
Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake cooked up a stunt that went awry in the Superbowl Halftime Show, and the world got a look at her breast. B.F.D.
This really points up two things. First, these two are typical of today's "entertainers" who's singing abilities can't stand on their own, so they have to slut it up or do something shocking in order to stand out. Next time, try hiring talent for the show instead of flash.
Second, why in world did these two nitwits (and behind the scenes handlers) try to deny it in the first place? I'd ground my kids in a heartbeat if they lied to me about some stupid stunt they pulled. Janet and Justin should be held to the same basic standard. You screwed up, you admit it.
Ya know, if there's one thing that baseball does better than football, it's maintain its dignity. The baseball All-Star game means something, and the World Series is handled with class and celebrates the game. Football is going down the path towards WWF-dom. Lowest-common-denominator marketing. It's not the sizzle you should be pushing, it's the steak.
Jeez, I hate the Super Bowl.
Got to work an hour and a half early this morning to beat the morning rush hour. Freezing rain is making its way into the area, and it's going to be hell on earth trying to drive real soon now.
So what does one do when you're here before the systems are up? Well, there are status reports, filing and organizing, and that pile o' crap in your "do when really bored" pile.
And quizzes. (in the extended entry).
Thanks to Pixy and annika for this one. I think.
What's my sexual appeal
Nerdslut
What's your sexual appeal?
brought to you by Quizilla
Cats. Love 'em or hate 'em (or a little of both), this seems to be an idea who's time has come.
In the extended entry.
For those unaware of the story, the brief version is that the refrigerator at work has a carton of eggnog with an expiration date of December 28, 2002. Previous Nog Watch posts are here and here.
We had an interesting and entertaining development during January. An unknown person posted a note on the fridge door complaining about food being left for extended periods of time. On the note was a prominent arrow pointing to two plastic containers full of mold sitting on top of the refrigerator. One heap of mold looked vaguely triangular, leading me to believe that it may have once been pizza. They sat there for a week until disgust moved someone to actually transport the containers to the dumpster. It's probably a good thing that I didn't think to take pictures until it was too late.
The egg nog remains in place.
Sports Illustrated (Feb 2, 2004 issue) has an interesting two-page spread showing the positioning and responsibilities of each member of the officiating crew at an NFL football game. This is perfect for explaining to those learning the game just what it is those guys in the zebra shirts do.
You should get a copy to read their excellent complete descriptions, but here I'm going to briefly touch on each and some of their lesser-known duties and roles.
Referee: Final authority of the crew, he's responsible for all calls concerning the quarterbacks and kickers. To become the 'head', he must best other officials in mock gladiatorial combat using whistles and weighted flags.
Field Judge: Key in determining pass interference and whether ball carrier crosses the goal line. An obscure rule requires this official to have webbed toes.
Line Judge: Responsible for calling offsides and false starts, as well as whether illegal players are downfield before ball is kicked. A rather unglamorous position among the crew, his chief perk is that he gets the locker with best view of the cheerleaders at Philadelphia's Veterans stadium.
Back Judge: Concentrates on action involving tight end. Monitors 25- and 40- second play clocks for delay of game calls. Because of prominent position on field of play, during the last contract negotiations the Back Judge was almost required to wear advertising gimmick of home stadium sponsor. This idea was dropped when Enron wanted official to wear a giant chrome screw protruding from back of pants.
Umpire: Responsible for keeping emotional players separated, holding calls along the line and interference calls on short passes. The toughest of the officials, these are the guys who consistently get run over during the game. By tradition they automatically get 'shotgun' to and from game.
Head Linesman: He calls encroachment, offsides and false starts, marks the spot of a ballcarrier's forward progress and oversees the chain crew. Also responsible for holding and evenly distributing tips and bribes among crew. Must write thank you notes.
Side Judge: Same general duties as Field Judge, minus requirement for webbed toes. This is the only official specifically mentioned in the Mayflower Compact of 1620.
I'm awake, and I'm one unhappy camper.
We have an appraiser coming to look at the house and this bozo gave us the choice of 7:30 or 8:00 AM this morning. No other options.
There will be no pleasantries exchanged, that's for sure.
Update: At 9:00 I put a note on the door:
You are over an hour late for our appointment. We have plans for the day and it's no longer a good time for us. Have your secretary call us to set up a mutually convenient time.
Then I went back to bed.
...in the Army, that is.
According to Avalanche Company's Sgt Stanford, SPC Schwarz was quite the soldier.
Among my favorites on the list:
16. Must get a haircut even if it tampers with my 'Sampson like powers'.33. Not allowed to chew gum at formation, unless I brought enough for everybody.
34. (Next day) Not allowed to chew gum at formation even if I *did* bring enough for everybody.
44. I am not the atheist chaplain.
61. If one soldier has a 2nd Lt bar on his uniform, and I have an E-4 on mine It means he outranks me. It does not mean ‘I have been promoted three more times than you'.
84. Must not use military vehicles to ‘Squish' things.*
Ya know, I could go on and on. Just go read the darn list.
I don't remember where I found this, if it was from your site, let me know so I can give credit.
*I can relate to this one. Once on duty I was caught driving across a field trying to run over a bunny rabbit**. When asked why, I answered "because I knew you'd be mad if I shot it."
**The bunny rabbit was in no real danger. If you don't believe me, try it sometime.
So the owner of the Washington Capitals hockey team got into it with a rowdy fan at the game. Said fan had a sign (which was a pretty good one), and owner and fan tussled. End result: fan on ass, fight over.
Owner apologizes, and the fan says 'no hard feelings'.
That's how hockey fans disagree. Gentlemen, I salute you!
Like I said, we're in the middle of implementing a brand new computer system. This morning one of our users was asking about a common everyday work process that he has to do, and the on-site support person said this to him:
"I don't know, we never thought of that."
Excuse me, but you've spent six years and mucho dinero (think really big number followed by lots of zeroes) designing this system and YOU DIDN'T THINK OF THAT?!?!?!?!
Four-wheel Driving Fool
(sung to the tune of Hootie & the Blowfish’s – Only Wanna Be With You)
Look out the window,
Nasty weather outside,
Let’s climb in my SUV
And go out for a ride.
Snow and ice?
Ain’t no big thang,
I bought this big ol’ jeep,
To make up for my wang.
Ain’t no weather too cruel,
I’m a four-wheelin’ fool.
I rode the short-bus to school,
I’m a four-wheelin’ fool.
(There should be more, but I expect that by this point the idiot will be ditch-bound.)
Pixy left a comment on one of my earlier posts that perfectly sums up a problem most of us have had.
Microsoft error messages SUCK.
Or to illustrate:
Weather was bad in Seattle, but the traffic reporter insisted that they get airborne anyways. Reluctantly, the chopper pilot agreed.
It didn't take long for them to get hopelessly lost in the thick fog. After flying around for a while, desperately searching for any landmark, they glimpsed the ghostly outline of a skyscraper not too far away.
Easing closer, they spot a conference room full of people, and soon enough the people notice the helicopter hovering outside.
Thinking quickly, the reporter scribbles on a piece of paper and holds up his makeshift sign: "WHERE ARE WE?"
The people immediately grab some paper and after a little discussion write their own sign. Holding it up, it says "YOU ARE IN A HELICOPTER."
The pilot immediately flies away and without problems heads directly to their airport where he lands safely. The reporter is stunned and asks the pilot how he managed it.
The pilot answered, "Well, their answer was technically correct but completely useless, so I knew that it was the MicroSoft headquarters building. From there, I could find our way home."
The Oakland Raiders are searching for a coach, but not just any coach. The coach they're looking for must be offense-minded, yet timid enough to be firmly under the thumb of owner Al Davis. Special requirements indeed.
Or, as the San Fransisco Chronicle put it last week "Al is Searching for a Spineless Jellyfish".
So today we hear that Davis is interviewing Miami Dolphins assistant coach Norv Turner. Turner spent more than six seasons in the DC area, being wishy-washy while guiding the Redskins to the playoffs just one time. The man may be an offensive genius and a genuinely nice guy, but he's about as stern as PeeWee Herman. I shudder to say this, but he's a perfect fit for what Al Davis wants.
Dude, if you thought Raider Nation was classless before (and I prefer the term 'colorful'), wait until you see this year. It's going to get ugly.
1. Free Yorkshire Terrier, 8 years old. Hateful little dog. Bites.
2. Free Puppies: 1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbor's dog.
3. Free Puppies: 1/2 German Shepherd, part stupid dog.
4. Found: Dirty White Dog. Looks like a rat... been out awhile... better be a reward.
5. For Sale: Snow Blower. Only used on snowy days.
6. For Sale: Complete set of Encyclopedia Brittannica - 45 volumes. Excellent condition. $1000 obo. No longer needed - newlywed and wife knows everything.
7. For Sale: Nordic Track, hardly used. $300. Ask for Chubby.
8. Nice Parachute. Never opened, used once.
9. Joining nudist colony! Must sell washer and dryer - $300.
Jaromir Jagr (45 pts) to the New York Rangers for Anson Carter (17 pts). More importantly, the Caps will save about 7 million a year on his salary - I haven't heard yet what Carter makes, but it won't be close to that.
Rumors are rampant that the Caps are shopping goalie Kolzig, forwards Lang and Bondra, and defenseman Gonchar. Lang is a newcomer, the others are long-time Caps and would really be missed for more than their ice time.
In fantasy hockey news, I dropped rapidly in the standings when both of my goaltenders realized that they were human and quit playing over their heads. Things have settled down now, and with the return of two good players from IR, I'm slowly climbing back into contention (currently 5th place).
And guys love women with guitars. Porn star Jenna Jamison is the new spokesmodel for Jackson Guitars. These pictures are nice because even if you're not an axe freak you can enjoy them. Nothing dirty here, just a beautiful girl and her beautiful guitar.
This heads up courtesy of Fleshbot (not work safe).
Make my funk the P-funk.
I want my funk uncut.
Make my funk the P-funk.
I wants to get funked up.
-- Parliament
Live Free and Wax Funky.
This is a test, because so far not one darn thing will actually post... I'm getting 'server timeout messages'.
Update: Ka-wham! The bit I've been trying to post just showed up with this one, but none of the pinging happened.
*Who is now happily married and no longer fits this category.**
**As far as I know.***
***Thanks to Tiger for the spare footnotes.
Picture found at and all credit due to the always hilarious Curmudgeonly & Skeptical.
1. What in the world is that logo along either sideline of the Patriots field? It's a subdued gray-blue and looks like a stylized volcano or hands reaching up. Any idea?
2. Could someone in the New England area please Please PLEASE wait at the airport and kill make mute Phil Simms before he can broadcast again? If killing is too extreme, I'd settle for removal of his vocal cords. By the fourth quarter the play-by-play guy (Gumbel) has to fight to get a word in edgewise as Simms rambles on and on and on.
Update: Hmmm, Tiger brings up a good point. In today's world, hyperbole isn't always acceptable. So for the record, I don't advocate the actual murder of anyone, even someone as annoying as Phil Simms (or Chris Collinsworth for that matter). It was a rant, ok? Anti-Nike: Don't do it.
Next time you need to refer to somewhere remote, instead of "Bumf**k, Egypt", try "Unpronouncylvania" instead.
Flathead County, Montana is home to the newspaper Bigfork Eagle, which recently had an article containing all the sordid details about a recent law enforcement investigation. It's brief and you really should read it all for the chuckles interspersed with "ewwww" moments. Here are the last two sentences of the article:
"It appears we have a serial horse rapist," Dupont said.
The sheriff's office is investigating, and Dupont advised horse owners to be vigilant.
It's what I always imagined chocolate milk in prison would taste like.
Ick.
Ocean salvage companies spent many years looking for the remains of the Titanic, studying the local currents and projecting possible search areas. Because of the depth of the seabed in that area, as well as the frigidity of the water, the actual searching was accomplished with robotic submersible craft carrying cameras.
RMS Titanic, Inc. was formed once they confirmed the location of the wreck. Here's the picture that finally convinced them that all their years of work had paid off (in the extended entry, as usual):
That link, by the way, is the real website for RMS Titanic, Inc. There's some pretty cool history and pictures there.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Moderate |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | High |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Moderate |
Oops, forgot to thank Lady TwoDragons for the pointer.
At work we had one of those know-it-all managers. He's since retired, and it was a huge loss of experience and knowledge, because between the two of us we knew it all.
He knew everything in the world except that he was an idiot.
And I knew that.
Update: My gratitude to all who didn't comment on the incorrect spelling of 'knowledge' above. I said I only needed to know one thing...
What is this new television advertising trend where odd children are used in commercials? It all started with Mazda and that 'zoom zoom' kid. Tonight during the football games, Volkswagen started running an ad with another kid who looks just a little 'off', and now IBM features this truly disturbing young blond freak.
Then again, since I remember them I suppose the commercials are a success.
I've now encountered a few new comments that almost don't fit the category of 'spam'.
They come from ficticious but believable names, not something obviously botted together to defeat the filters (we've all seen them in email).
Instead of being link-filled messages, the only 'spammy' part of the message is the URL of the sender. It'll be to something about diet aids or breast enhancement, etc. The email addresses are usually obvious dead-ends.
The comment text itself is something meant to be inspirational. "Be a better person, be a friend" type stuff. Totally unconnected to the product being shilled in the URL.
The telltale signs of spam are subtle for the most part. Except that so far, each one of them has targeted an old old post. Like all comment spam, they hope to get lost in the midst of your archives.
It's kind of ironic that a spammer is giving me advice on how to be a better person. So I'll leave you with this quote from my Tagline Archive:
Imagine standing at a street corner and spitting on people to get their attention, then trying to sell them something. Spamming is a better marketing method than that only in that you get punched less often. -- Esa A. Peuha
You did notice the new tagline up there on the right, didn't you?
Peanut Butter & Jelly. Mmmmmm. I still eat a PB&J for lunch once or twice a week. Somewhere I once read that the most nutritious way to make it was to go heavy on the peanut butter and light on the jelly, so that's what I do. Extra chunky please, although I don't turn my nose up at creamy either.
According to the commercials, "Choosy Mom's Choose JIF", and I agree. I'm not a big peanut butter snob, but you should never buy the store brand just because it's cheaper. It sucks. Trust me, your kids are just too polite to complain.
And you can keep the Wonder bread, I like mine on whole wheat.
We lived in Alabama for several years, and my dad did too in his younger days. I've had southern cooking and it's yum. My dad loves grits and hominy. I've tried both, and think they're disgusting.
And biscuits for breakfast. Hell, any meal is better with biscuits. Except at breakfast, I'll take that whole wheat again - toasted. And skip the butter if you're offering orange marmalade.
I just recently found out that black-eyed peas are actually beans. So now I can say "I don't like black-eyed peas, even though they're actually beans".
My mother-in-law eats black-eyed peas every year on New Years day for good luck.
We lived in Montgomery, Alabama and our corner house had four pecan trees. One year, we had a bumper crop of pecans. Luckily, my wife makes the best pecan pie on the planet. Of course I'm biased, because I'll take pecan pie and a glass of milk over almost anything else.
Lima beans are the alien pods that telemarketers and spammers come from.
Succotash is two syllables too long.
(mental list: bonfire entry... check)
Driving home yesterday, I heard on the radio the advertising for a new business that combines cosmetic dentistry and day spa services.
Their slogan was (something close to): "Why have a perfect smile if your whole face and body aren't just as polished?"
How freakin' shallow can you get? This place is advertising dental laminations and laser whitening to go along with your epidermal peeling and deep tissue massage.
Shallow enough to place an ad in the personals stating "SWF with brilliant straight smile looking for SWM with same." No shit, I saw that one*.
I'm getting to the point where I like seeing a pretty girl with a little gap in her front teeth or a slightly crooked smile, just because it gives her some personality. Everyone nowadays looks like airbrushed Playboy models between the lips.
*Yeah, I see the personals. We've got a couple guys at work who post ads there and want to talk about various potentials. With everyone. Whether you want to or not.
More thoughts about the Washington Redskins rehiring former coach Joe Gibbs.
I'm trying to figure out whether owner Dan Snyder is a loon or a genius. No more making fun of the team for how far they've fallen, because as of yesterday the Redskins are the most intriguing show in the game.
Plus, Snyder bought himself another two years of breathing room. It's another win/win situation, just like Spurrier at the beginning. Who knows how it'll turn out? If it does go sour, it'll take local fans a while to work up the courage to blast Gibbs. The man is an icon around DC.
Fans around here are walking on clouds right now. Did they really hire Joe Bugel too? I don't even like the Redskins, but it's going to be fun to see what happens for the next couple of years.
Update: Deion Sanders is one bummin' unit. He had his burgundy suit dry-cleaned and everything.
On the way to work this morning, I heard a report that owner Dan Snyder has offered a huge amount of money to former coach Joe Gibbs to return to the team.
Typical Snyder - throw lots of money at someone unlikely hoping to solve everything in one heroic move. I mean, c'mon... Gibbs has been out of the game for a long damn time.
The Redskins running game sucked last year, maybe he should offer John Riggins big bucks to come back.
Theismann is available I bet. Or even better, Sonny Jurgenson!!! Throwing long to Art Monk. Jeez, the Redskins have become a parody of themselves. I can't even hate them anymore because they're so pitiful.
Here in the DC area, the supply of O+ blood (the 'universal' type) is almost completely depleted.
If you're eligible, please donate. If you don't know if you can, then please call your local Red Cross or hospital for information.
The pool of eligible doners was slashed in the last few years as tens of thousands of people (many military) were removed from the rolls because of possible mad cow exposure in Europe. Your help is really needed.
The Redskins fired Barney Rubble Steve Spurrier. I hate the Redskins. Unrelated? Not entirely, especially if you use it as an opportunity to test your psychic abilities. Is it possible to cause a hex or jinx just by saying it out loud?
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
Whether you hate the 'Skins, or just because you love Science and Discovery, repeat along with me.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders.
New Redskins coach Deion Sanders...
Be safe tonight, and here's hoping that everyone has their dreams come true in 2004.
For many years I had the following framed and hanging on the wall by my desk at work. Since I almost always work one-man projects, it served to amuse the occasional user who wandered in while simultaneously explaining my somewhat eccentric work habits.
Every programmer has some experience with bodily abuse. Sooner or later, all of us do things to ourselves we wouldn't admit to Mom. Most of the time we say we're provoked by circumstances: whether it's the representative from your client's company -- a not pleasant man who looks a lot like Herman Munster, breathing heavily on your neck -- or some towering, unstoppable endorphin rush that threatens to rip your medulla out of its socket if you don't code up that monstro algorithm RIGHT NOW and forget about your wedding. We generally attribute our protracted binges to some external force.
This attitude bespeaks a hideous wrong-headedness among programmers. We seem to get some masochistic pleasure out of responding to pressure by sitting in front of our machines until our fingernails are too long to type. Our eyes get varicose veins. We run fingers through our hair until we get split ends. We drool. Why?
Because, the deluded among us would answer, we have to. Some specter is chaining us to our chairs, making strangers of our families, removing us from the throb of humanity. It's not a pretty job, we sigh nobly, but someone has to do it. This is, as my sister used to say, pompous fudge-cakes.
We do it because we like it.
I never knew where that came from, I don't even remember where I got it from. Continuing my one-man quest to convince humanity that 'Google is your friend', I managed to find the truth. And in a Paul Harvey-ish twist, it turns out that there's a 'rest of the story' too.
The author (or someone who claims to know who the original author is) not only states the above but goes further and codifies his philosophy of Metabolic Fascism.
Go ahead and read the post at the link, it's short. The following snippets especially resonate with me:
There is no better way to accumulate a comprehensive, detailed knowledge of one's body than by abusing it regularly.
and
One pays much more attention to an engine about to explode than to one that is idling, and a metabolic fascist knows his body to a degree of detail that, among other humans, only long-distance runners and new mothers achieve.
Yes, I've been there and done that. I suspect Pixy has as well. Programming is for the young and strong and stupid. As you get older, you either move into teaching or theory or burn out and fade away.
Yepper, it's time for another lame Rocket Jones contest! Once again, everyone has the chance to wax poetic in their peculiar particular fashion, and since there's no prize, everybody wins!
So go into the extended entry, put on your thinking caps, and caption the photo. Yes, I ripped the idea off from Kevin at Wizbang!, who got it from someone else, who got it from... you know how it goes. I'm not a bible-readin' man, otherwise we could be sitting here begattin' for quite awhile.
And just in case this isn't enough fun in your dreadfully hum-drum life, go help Mr. Helpful rig an online poll. Do it for the children his kid. Do it for Rock'n'Roll!
I just reread this... can you tell I only got a couple hours of sleep last night? Sorry, I get goofy when I'm tired. (Shut up Mookie, comments from the rest of the peanut gallery will be tolerated).
Caption this picture! Leave yours in the comments.
It's monday, the 29th of December, and the carton of eggnog in the refrigerator at work is now officially over a year past its expiration date.
I ain't touching it, not even to throw it out.
The big red round dude was good to me this Christmas. In the 'things I need' category was a new pocketwatch, since mine went kaput earlier this month. I also scored the books Seabiscuit and Footfall, some cooking goodies, and DVD's including October Sky (the only remotely rocket-related gift), John Wayne's The Cowboys, and a cool little four-pack of crappy horror movies that include such schlock classics as Psychomania, Blood Tide, Horror Express - The Enigma, and my favorite: The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave.
Mookie brought home a nasty cold from school last week, and within days Liz caught it from her. Yesterday evening I started feeling lousy, and now I'm in the middle of it too.
She's grounded.
Merry Christmas or your holiday of choice. Here's hoping you have a great day, a wonderful New Year, and a prosperous 2004 to us all!
You've seen the BK guy ("ding, fries are done"), the Eat'nPark Christmas tree commercial, and by now you've seen "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" (the Champagne Room remix). Here's a tacky and tasteless holiday carol in flash format that might be new to you.
Or maybe you're dreaming of a White Trash Christmas...
I just wanted everyone to know that I took the time to compile an extensive list of online friends that I wanted to send e-cards to for the holidays. Then, like most guys, I gave the list to my wife to take care of for me and forgot all about it.
So did she, so if you didn't get a card from us, blame her.
Because of recent events, Santa now has to go through a more thorough FAA "Flight Safety and Emergency Certification" inspection. On the appointed day, he greets the inspector, and they chat about the new rules and regulations imposed.
Just like they do every year, the FAA inspector looks over Santa's maintenance records, then they go out and do a walk-around of the sleigh. He checks for loose runners, makes sure the reins aren't dry-rotted, asks more questions about what to do during this or that emergency situation, and just generally being more thorough than the normal annual inspection.
Finally, it's time for the check ride, and Santa gets in the sleigh. He's a little alarmed when the FAA inspector climbs aboard with his clipboard and a rifle. Santa immediately inquires about the weapon.
"Well," says the FAA inspector, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're going to suffer an engine failure during take off."
Happy Holidays! ** (see Footnote 1 in the extended entry)
** Footnote 1
Please accept, with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an
environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive,
gender neutral, celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practised within
the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, with
respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or
their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all....and a
fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated
recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2002, but not
without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose
contributions to society have helped make America great, (not to imply that
America is necessarily greater than any other country or is the only "AMERICA"
in the western hemisphere), and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age,
physical ability, religious faith, or choice of computer platform of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting you are accepting these terms. This greeting is
subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no
alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to
actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void
where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of
good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of subsequent
holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement
of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
The wishee further agrees to hold harmless and indemnify the wisher, along with
its heirs, assigns, officers, directors, shareholders.
The New York Islanders held a promotion where anyone dressed as Santa Claus got free admission to the hockey game last night against their crosstown rival New York Rangers.
Between periods, the Santas were ushered on to the ice, at which point two of them opened up their suits to display NY Ranger sweaters underneath. In a display of old fashioned hockey tradition, both Santas were jumped by the rest, knocked down and stripped of the offending uniforms.
The fight lasted nearly nine minutes, and several normally-dressed fans joined in from the stands. Geez, I love hockey!
Why a Christmas Tree Is Better Than a Woman
1. A Christmas tree doesn't care how many other Christmas trees you have had in the past.
2. Christmas trees don't get mad if you use exotic electrical devices.
3. A Christmas tree doesn't care if you have an artificial one in the closet.
4. You can feel a Christmas tree before you take it home.
5. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you look up underneath it.
6. When you are done with a Christmas tree, you can throw it on the curb and have it hauled away.
7. A Christmas tree doesn't get jealous around other Christmas trees.
8. A Christmas tree doesn't care if you watch football all day.
9. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you tie it up and throw it in the back of your pickup truck.
Why A Christmas Tree Is Better Than A Man
1. A Christmas tree is always erect.
2. Even small ones give satisfaction.
3. A Christmas tree stays up for 12 days and nights.
4. A Christmas tree always looks good - even with the lights on.
5. A Christmas tree is always happy with its size.
6. A Christmas tree has cute balls.
7. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you break one of its balls.
8. You can throw a Christmas tree out when it's past its 'sell by' date.
9. You don't have to put up with a Christmas tree all year.
Hey Daniel, if you thought the Atari classic joystick full of games was cool, check out this one: the Intellivision 25!
My neighbor had an Intellivision, and I always wanted one. Way beyond our newlywed budget at the time, they had some nifty games that were more strategy-oriented than the (still fun) Atari shoot-em-ups.
I'll post a review of it in the near future. :D
According to Sports Illustrated, for the first time since 1954 no football teams from New York or California will make the playoffs.
Obviously the republicans control the NFL, vindictive bastards.
Over at the Ministry of Minor Perfidy, Johno points out what may very well be the best week in the history of rock and roll.
Check out the Billboard Chart for December 20, 1969:
No. 1, "Abbey Road," the Beatles
No. 2, "Led Zeppelin II," Led Zeppelin
No. 3, "Tom Jones Live in Las Vegas," Tom Jones
No. 4, "Green River," Creedence Clearwater Revival
No. 5, "Let It Bleed," the Rolling Stones
No. 6, "Santana," Santana
No. 7, "Puzzle People," the Temptations
No. 8, "Blood Sweat & Tears," Blood Sweat & Tears
No. 9, "Crosby, Stills & Nash," Crosby, Stills & Nash
No. 10, "Easy Rider" soundtrack (featuring the Byrds, the Jimi Hendrix Experience, and Steppenwolf)
Right there, you have the soundtrack to one kick ass roadtrip.
Guys, you should go with your wife when she has to visit her gynocologist. It's fun to sit in the waiting room and without doing a thing, make every female there uncomfortable as hell. Kind of an implied 'I know what you're here for' thing. Plus, you get to catch up on your chicks magazine reading.
***
My wife was outraged the other evening when I told my daughters that they should do more phone sex. Things calmed down after I outlined "Dad's Definition of Phone Sex":
phone rings, daughter picks up: hello?
boy on other end of line: hey, wanna chill?
daughter: SCREW YOU!
after which daughter immediately slams phone down.
Us dads don't get enough credit for thinking outside the box.
***
If you're drowning in estrogen around the house, get a male dog. Nothing is more 'guy' than a puppy humping everything in sight or licking himself in the middle of the floor. Never ever let a women talk you into getting him fixed.
***
A while back Nic said this in my comments:
"Your love for and commitment to your family comes through in every post."
That's a very sweet thing to say, and I thank you for it. I think it also explains why I have such a hard time meeting women on the side.
Please notice the St. Louis Blues logo up in the corner. The Blues beat my beloved San Jose Sharks last night, so in accordance with the rules of our inter-Munuvian Hockey Whoopass Jamboree, I'll be displaying the logo of Heather's favorite team for the next day or so.
Look for the next installment of the Build It series this weekend. We'll be attaching the fins to the rocket and starting the recovery system.
Oh yeah, I got two pretty good wishes in the comments, but that's all? C'mon people.
I'm even stealing Kevin's title for this one. Michael Jackson is joining Louis Farrakhan's Nation of Islam.
Jehovah's Witnesses all over the world are thanking God. Jacko was starting to give them a bad name.
While reading SilverBlue, I found this pointer to Bill, who posted the most disgusting bit of alleged humor I've seen in a long time. Of course I laughed like a maniac the whole time.
And oddly enough, it was the second 'tampon related' discussion I'd been involved in today. It must be preordained or something, so here is my contribution to the string (pun intended).
Q: How can you tell when a blonde is having a bad day?
A: There's a tampon behind her ear and she can't find her pencil.
I’m one of those folks who listens to Christmas music on the radio. I found the local easy listening station, which has become the self-proclaimed “home for Christmas”, and that’s what plays on the way to work. I love singing along too. But I have a tip for musicians everywhere: there’s not a thing wrong with slow and solemn songs, but for God’s sake don’t turn an upbeat song into a dirge trying to make it ‘your own’.
Country Music Christmas songs fall into two categories: Trailer Trash Tunes and Treacly Tearjerkers. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer and Who Put the Dick on the Snowman are perfect examples of the first sort, and this years apparent winner in the sickly-sweet division is I Want To Buy Those Shoes for Mommy. You see, she’s going to meet Jesus tonight and she has to look good, so dad sent the kid out to get her new shoes. Barf.
Burger King has once again backed a loser, this time the Cat in the Hat movie. BK commercials in general are obnoxious, and adding the Cat into the mix just makes it worse. Tip time (I’m on a roll today): Next time you have an idea for an advertising campaign, throw it in the trash and do the exact opposite. My consulting fee for that wisdom is ½ of 1% of your advertising budget for next year. If that’s a problem, just dock Herb’s salary.
Lyndon LaRouche is running for president – again. The ad I heard this morning was a pip, even for him. This isn’t a perfect quote, because I’m probably off by a word or two, but the money words are exact: “If the Democratic Party excludes me, they. Will. Be. Destroyed. If the Democratic Party doesn’t include me this time, they are dead meat.” Wow, all the features of ‘Compassionate Conservatism’, except the compassion and conservatism.
In the military, I had to get a flue shot every year, and every year I’d get sick for a few days from the ‘live-virus’ vaccine. I haven’t had one since I got out over ten years ago, and I’ve had my butt kicked by the flu twice in that time.
The way it was explained to me, the makers of the vaccine take the two or three most common strains from the previous year and combine them into the next years vaccine, making an educated guess about what’s coming along next and hoping that the current strains will be close enough to the previous ones to provide some measure of immunity. It’s a crap shoot - possible to win, possible to lose badly.
So this year, flu season comes along early and kills some kids. Not to seem unfeeling, but the flu kills about a hundred kids a year, not to mention thousands of older folks. Maybe it was a slow news day or something, but the media has blown this so out of proportion that people are panicking. Now there are hours-long lines waiting to get one of the last hundred doses of vaccine at the local clinic, and then folks get pissed because their baby didn’t get a shot. Why the hell didn’t you get the kid vaccinated when it became available months ago? Shut the hell up. And it’s not the government’s fault. The vaccine companies made enough to cover normal demand (thousands of doses get thrown away unused each year), so don’t blame them either. Just shut up.
Meanwhile the talking heads on the news show video clips of lines outside of clinics and horrifically sick kids while they whisper in voice-over “don’t panic”. You too, shut up. Mr. Green, your services are needed here.
Hmmmm… need to lighten up and end this…
Since my wife doesn’t read my blog (and the girls know death awaits if they open their big mouths), I’d like to publicly thank Daniel for pointing out this! I got one for Liz for Christmas (WalMart.com), and it looks like it’s going to be fun.
Kickin' it old school, indeed.
* ‘Ripple Fire’ is a mode whereas multiple military rockets are launched at a (usually ground) target in rapid sequence. It’s similar to machine-gun fire, but with big booms at the receiving end.
I use the title for disjointed snippets and thoughts too short for their own posts.
I heard this on the radio this morning, and it sounds like fun. They called it "Put on your Greedy Caps".
For Christmas, you can have anything you want. Anything.
Among the DJ's on the morning show, their wishes were:
- The deed to Augusta.
- The same amount of money as Bill Gates.
- Heidi Klum.
- (my new hero wanted) his face painted on every water tower in America.
What is your wish? Leave it in the comments.
Yes, I am a fan. I like Alton Brown. Thanks to Josh for the link to the Alton Brown fan page. Be sure to check out the satire of Alton Brown on Iron Chef! (look on the left side of the page for the link)
If nothing else, watch because he's got his own drinking game.
I'm sorry, I couldn't resist this:
What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?
"Make me one with everything."
It didn't take long, and just in time for the holidays, the "Captured Saddam," action figure, presumably fresh out of an imaginary spider-hole, has been rushed to store shelves.
"We still mold and hand paint each and every action figure right here in the Good Old USA," says Herobuilders.com. Check out their page, it's pretty in-your-face funny.
Among their offerings are a couple of Saddam dolls, two Uday versions (I like the DOA doll), and of course everyone's favorite: Baghdad Bob. For European customers, the company features a Tony Blair "Talking British Ally" model, Gerhard Schroeder in camouflage, and French President Jacque Chirac, whom it calls "le Worm" in a flouncy French maid's outfit.
Well, maybe that last one isn't for the Euro market.
Over at Transterrestrial Musings, Rand Simberg wonders...
Six Weeks More War, Or Is It Over?
When they pulled Saddam out of his hole, did he see his shadow?
Playwright Jim Sherman wrote this after Hu Jintao was named chief of the Communist Party in China.
(We take you now to the Oval Office.)
George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening?
Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China.
George: Great. Lay it on me.
Condi: Hu is the new leader of China.
George: That's what I want to know.
Condi: That's what I'm telling you.
George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes.
George: I mean the fellow's name.
Condi: Hu.
George: The guy in China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The new leader of China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The Chinaman!
Condi: Hu is leading China.
George: Now whaddya' asking me for?
Condi: I'm telling you Hu is leading China.
George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China?
Condi: That's the man's name.
George: That's who's name?
Condi: Yes.
George: Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he was in the Middle East.
Condi: That's correct.
George: Then who is in China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir is in China?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Then who is?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Look, Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get me the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone.
Condi: Kofi?
George: No, thanks.
Condi: You want Kofi?
George: No.
Condi: You don't want Kofi.
George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N.
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi?
George: Milk! Will you please make the call?
Condi: And call who?
George: Who is the guy at the U.N?
Condi: Hu is the guy in China.
George: Will you stay out of China?!
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi.
George: All right! With cream and two sugars. Now get on the phone.
(Condi picks up the phone.)
Condi: Rice, here.
George: Rice? Good idea. And a couple of egg rolls, too. Maybe we should send some to the guy in China. And the Middle East. Can you get Chinese food in the Middle East?
Kevin wants everyone to make up their own wild conspiracy story about Saddam's capture and link to his post here.
Just think, this is your chance to profoundly influence moonbat thinking. So get busy, get creative, and get digging!
It's obvious that the Russians handed over Saddam to the US as part of the deal to cover Halliburton's overcharging for gas by allowing the Russians to build their pipeline instead of the Turks.
Not work safe, not kid safe, but funny and cute.
Download and click to run it. And don't worry, nothing installs.
Ho.
Today our hometown Dale City Cowboys won the Pop Warner Midget Division I Super Bowl - 2003.
Get some, 'Boys!
At least they admit it's a useless test (click on the pig).
Thanks to Pixy and Susie, today's intrepid Lewis & Clark of quiz-takers everywhere.
For kids whose parents you really hate, here's a list of truly evil presents. This list was compiled will careful thought and malice over many years. Also, because toys come and go, not all of these are available any more, but are always worth picking up as a 'just because mommy or daddy pissed me off gift' if you find one in a yard sale.
1. Without a doubt, the best gift to give is the legendary Ant Farm. It comes with a coupon that you mail in and they send you the live ants. Of course the parents aren't going to do that, so save them the time and trouble (and a stamp!) and send it in for them ahead of time. You want to give little Johnny or Jenny a working farm, chock full of crawly little critters.
2. The classics are always simple things. And what could be simpler than Finger Paints? They're a whole mess of fun! Be sure to include a pad of big sheets of paper, and then sit down with the kids and use up 90% of the paper right there getting 'em hooked. This forces mommy and daddy to get more paper or - even better - run out and have the little Picassos decorating the house. If mommy and daddy take 'em away, be sure to ask the kids how they like them so the guilt trip can begin.
3. Related to Finger Paints is another classic, the Spin Art set. So perfectly designed that almost no mess is made under adult supervision, the trick here is to let kids be kids, and they'll manage it all on their own. A nice little mini-spin art kit makes a wonderful pocket stuffer too!
4. Every kid wants an Airbrush. Just not one this crappy! The cheaper the better because it makes a bigger mess. You could also include a custom hot rod magazine, and point out that all the bitchin' flames and pinstriping was done with the same type of equipment. Couldn't mom's minivan use a touch of cool?
5. Suntan Barbie, aka Malibu Barbie. When first introduced, the 'tan' was a thin rubberized spray-on coating which was so sticky that it made it almost impossible to dress and undress the doll. If you do manage to find one of these evil classics, make sure you get the little angel plenty of extra outfits to put on and take off. Mommy and daddy will love you for it.
6. The Fisher-Price Corn Popper has been driving parents up the wall since 1957. There's something to be said about tradition.
7. Barney Bongo's. These are truly inspired by Satan. Each time the kid hits a bongo, it plays the next note of the Barney song! In approximately three days, mommy and daddy will want to put a contract out on you. "They hate you. You're no friend. Ba-by sings that song again..."
8. If you know the kid is a slob, and mommy and daddy are too, then you can't go wrong with Jacks. A good set is ten metal caltrops, perfect for perforating bare feet, and a rubber ball or two to slip on. Cheap too, so go ahead and double up on the fun. Like they say: give until it hurts.
9. When people call it a thoughtful gift, they usually mean it in a good way. What a crock. If the tyke is a little older, then think inexpensive color printer. While you're being congratulated for giving an educational present, just remember that the average color cartridge prints about twelve pages and costs forty bucks. Mom and dad will need a second mortgage to keep up with junior's four-color jones, especially if you also throw in a CD label maker.
Ho.
Hello {insert name of nitwit here},
We are conducting a survey, among those who utilize email, usenet groups, and other online systems in an attempt to make money through multi-level marketing schemes, sales of "get rich quick" publications, etc.
Please take a few moments to complete the following multiple-choice survey. Your help is genuinely appreciated, and will greatly assist our project.
1. Are you aware that you're a complete and utter idiot?
_ No, I honestly had no clue.
_ Yes, I admit it - I'm a completely clueless wanker.
2. Do you really think you're the first clueless twit who thinks they've discovered a way to make money by spamming about a REVOLUTIONARY NEW CONCEPT IN INTERNET MARKETING?
_ Gosh - yes, I really thought it was something no one had thought of before.
_ No, I realize others have tried before, but in my pathetic stupidity I truly believed that I could make money where no one else had succeeded before.
3. Are you supremely confident in your ability to avoid the life-long designation as a "pathetic loser", now that you've joined the ranks of half-witted, mentally defective drool-tards who conduct this sort of activity over the internet?
_ Yes, I truly believe I'm different from all the other retards like me.
_ No, I see what you mean - I now realize that I'm destined to be known forever as the blathering, drooling, defective pants-wetter that I am.
Thanks for taking a few moments to complete our survey. Please forward to 5 people on your mailing list, and request that they each forward it on to 5 others each, etc. etc.
(c)2003, everyone on the internet. Distribute freely without charge.
Thanks to BB on the rockets newsgroup for this one!
Kevin at Wizbang has created and is hosting the Weblog Awards. There are many categories and this gives you a chance to heap some recognition on your favorite blogs.
Thanks to Susie, I found out that some misguided soul nominated Rocket Jones in the most likely to get the chair Best Marauding Marsupial category. Thanks!
Did you hear about the new Chinese/German restaraunt?
The food's great, but an hour after you eat, you're hungry for power.
A long time ago, in Dragon magazine, there was an article about role playing games that left a huge impression on me. In it, the author talked about a team of adventurers who were exploring a dungeon (what else), and at one point they were confronted by a Balrog.
I just realized how simple LOTR has made this explanation for me, because now you all know what a Balrog is, and just how formidable it can be.
Anyways, the author tells how the Dungeon Master controlling the game built the scenario up with words, and each player had to envision the action in their heads, and at the end they barely managed to defeat the demon by the flukiest once-in-a-thousand longshot magic spell.
He went on to tell about another game played later, this time using little lead miniature men and monsters and graph paper maps and such. At the climactic point of the adventure, the Dungeon Master ominously announced "Your path is blocked by a Balrog". Then he placed a two-inch tall painted figure on the map.
And that Balrog didn't seem nearly the obstacle that the first one was, and the team beat it. They had won the game, but that first group had had an adventure!
Some of you may remember Zork, the classic text adventure by Infocom. If you remember it well, you understood the title of this post right away. For those that don't, Zork was the best known of text adventure games, where all information was presented to you in story format, and you interacted by typing in words and short phrases as commands. For instance:
"You are on a forest path."
SOUTH
"You see a house."
EXAMINE HOUSE
"It's a small one-story house painted yellow. There is a window on this side."
OPEN WINDOW
"Opened."
...and so on. The idea was to figure out what was going on, and then complete the objective (not always obvious), usually by poking around and exploring things and solving problems. Some of these problems were devilishly tricky! In one early game (not Zork) the scenario was that you were on a submerged submarine, working inside an airlock, when a traitor among the crew used poison gas to kill everyone. It was just you and the traitor (or traitors), and you were stuck in an airlock. First step was figuring out how to get to an oxygen mask. Then it got really tough.
The key to all of these games was that you had to use your imagination to build on the vivid descriptions of the landscape and action, just like in a book. Much different from the graphic-intensive games of today. And in my mind, this was a strength, because more thought and creativity went into the story itself, and not the glitz and glamour of the graphics and user interface.
One interesting review of these games, written by someone too young to play them when they originally came out, was that because they were text based (and old), they were small, which made them perfect to play on a Palm or other PDA. Hmmmm... now there's a thought!
I'll be digging around a little bit and I'll post updates as I find out more. I owned a lot of Infocom adventures in various formats for various machines, and I'd like to find compatable copies again. They're that good.
Musical instruments I wish I could play:
1. Bagpipes
2. Steel Drum
3. Steel Guitar
4. Xylophone
5. Fiddle (not violin, I mean fiddle!)
Didja know that for a little more than a hundred dollars ($US - I keep forgetting Munuviana is international), you can get a chanter, which is what pipers practice with?
Och, and if that don't blow a warm breeze up yer kilts mon, I dinna ken what woot!
At work, there's a carton of egg nog in the refrigerator. That's normal, the holiday season is upon us.
The expiration date on the carton is December 28th. It's way in the back where it stays coldest.
Due to the massive turnover of the last year, I may be the last person left in the section who knows that it's December 28, 2002.
I have dark fantasies.
When I left work today, there was the lightest flurries whirling around. By eight o'clock, we had huge fluffy Dr. Suessian flakes falling outside. It looks like about 2" so far, and we're projected for up to 5". The big storm is supposed to kick in tomorrow evening, when the nor'easter gets going down in the Carolinas. I love a pretty snowfall.
Oldest daughter Robyn is coming home this weekend from college for Christmas break, sharing a ride with three other young ladies who also live in this general area. Naturally, they’re driving right into the teeth of what has the potential to become the first nor’easter of the season. At best it’ll be messy, especially as they come through the mountains in Pennsylvania.
I don’t have a lot of gray in my hair. We came to an agreement long ago, my hair and I: rather than go gray, it just falls out.
Kim DuToit is stirring it up again, but this time I don't understand the argument.
Frank Sinatra vs Harry Connick Jr.
Style vs substance.
I like apples and I like oranges.
"There's a set of rules that anything that was in the world when you were born is normal and natural. Anything invented between when you were 15 and 35 is new and revolutionary and exciting, and you'll probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you're 35 is against the natural order of things."
-- Douglas Adams
I saw this in The Salmon of Doubt (recommended by fellow Munuvian Daniel too), and found on the net at the lovingly constructed farewell page by the UCLA Astrobiology Society (which is entirely apropos when you think about it).
I've never been in a fantasy hockey league before this season, and knew absolutely nothing about it. It took me a couple of weeks to figure out what was going on, and despite myself I'm doing ok so far. Here's some things I've observed, which may or may not mean squat.
1. Luck plays a big part in success. You can do a lot to help yourself during the season, but luck or the lack of it will make or break your season. Players doing unexpectedly well, avoiding injuries, hot teams and more will all factor in.
2. The draft is critical (sometimes). Our league used an automatic draft, where team order was randomly determined just prior to the draft, and then players were assigned by offensive rank and position. So first the centers were doled out, then left wingers and so on. We were given the chance to 'customize' the draft order for our teams, but I decided to trust the automatic method. So far, it's worked out great for me (see 1 above).
3. Goaltending, goaltending, goaltending. You need two solid starters, and two stars would be better. Five of the top six teams in our league lead with goaltending, and the other is reminiscent of the old Pittsburg Penguins, ignoring defense and winning games 5-4 all season long. Once again, I got lucky here, picking up the hottest goalie of the season, Numinem of Atlanta. My second goalie is Esche of Philly, which is good because he wins almost every time he plays, but he's being platooned so he only plays around half the games. My original third goalie was Broduer's backup in New Jersey. I got rid of him quickly because Martin Broduer plays more games each season than any other goalie.
4. Go with your strengths. Early on I noticed that I was getting big points every week because my team made a lot of shots on goal (not every league awards points for this). I began waiving and drafting players with that stat in mind. Given two available players of roughly equal stats, I'd take the one who took more shots. You can't score if you don't shoot, right? This strategy has paid off in that my team has the second-most number of shots, and my players tend to score plenty of goals, assists and game winning goals.
The main weakness of my team is the plus/minus stat. Basically, if you're on the ice when your team scores, that's a plus one. If the other team scores while you're on the ice, then that's a negative one. An overall negative stat generally means that the opposing team has an easier time scoring while you're on the ice. Positive stats mean just the opposite. Players from the powerhouse teams like Detroit, Ottowa and St. Louis are generally going to have more plus players, although each has one or two guys who are really down there on the minus side. Again, I tend to give more weight to this stat than most because I'm trying to improve it. Once the season starts, you can do that only incrementally, because you'll seldom find more than marginal players on waivers.
5. Trades. If everyone in your league is just standing pat with their team or only dropping and picking up players via waivers, then basically the season becomes a lottery. Whoever had the best computer-generated draft is going to win. That's no fun at all. The league I'm in has had a few trades, but not many. I've made two out of a dozen or so that I've proposed or been offered.
I just made a trade that I knew would either make me look like a genius or an idiot at the end of the season. Early returns are for idiot. I traded offensive-minded Miroslav Satan (is that a great name or what?) and another player for two players who had great plus/minus numbers and slightly less production on offense. Once again I was trying to improve the most glaring weakness of my team without screwing up my other stats too badly. Unfortunately, one of the players I got in return was injured the day of the trade and is out indefinitely, so I shot myself in the foot there. So it goes.
I figure I spend about 20 minutes a day on average looking at scores and such, and it's been fun and added a lot to my enjoyment of this hockey season. If you're a hockey fan it's worth looking into for next season.
The top 15 Slogans for Legalized Marijuana
15) Got Buzz?
14) Pot: When you care Enough Not to Care At All.
13) A Day Without Pot is like School
12) Weed My Lips!
11) Hemp: the World's Practical Solution to making, like, paper and rope and necklaces and stuff.
10) It's Not Just For Glaucoma anymore!
9) Help eradicate Road Rage in our Lifetime
8) Official Sponsor of the NBA
7) Because the waste is a terrible thing to min....Dude! I totally fucked that up!!
6) When Was the Last Time You REALLY looked at your hand.
5) SMOKE POT! ( Did We Just Say That Out Loud? Or Did We Just Think It?)
4) Recommended by 5 out of 5 deadheads
3) Just Doob It
2) It's the all-the-time smokey, skunky, sticky, greeny, seedy, stemmy, doobie so-you-can-get-high medicine.
And the Number 1 Slogan for Legalized Marijuana.....
1) Skull shaped bong: $12.00, Primo Maui-Grown Bud: $100, Watching Teletubbies with your Buddies: PRICELESS
UPDATE: It has been pointed out that this list is in fact copyrighted from Topfive. I went to the site and looked and it is indeed, although their are minor differences. Go visit their site and enjoy their humor, but don't steal it and email it to all your friends like some nitwit did to me. Here's hoping that this link will make things right. Thanks to Brian J. for pointing this out.
Starhawk over at Freedom Lives posted a picture of his beautiful Arizona rose which, incredibly enough, is blooming right now.
I've already pruned back my roses and put them to bed for the winter, but in the extended entry is a shot of the first bloom we had this past spring. Enjoy.
This climbing rose sits next to our front door. Blooms start out deep salmon, and fade through peach with yellow tints until finishing out a pale pink. By autumn, the vines go up and across the top of our doorway, and we get waves of blooms all summer long. The fragrance is very delicate.
Here's another shot of the same rose later in the season after it really gets going.
Take these few simple tests for yourself.
MESS TEST
Smear peanut butter on the sofa and curtains. Place a fish stick behind the couch and leave it there all summer.
TOY TEST
Obtain a 55 gallon box of Legos (or you may substitute roofing tacks). Have a friend spread them all over the house. Put on a blindfold. Try to walk to the bathroom or kitchen. Do not scream because this would wake a child at night.
GROCERY STORE TEST
Borrow one or two small animals (goats are best) and take them with you as you shop. Always keep them in sight and pay for anything they eat or damage.
DRESSING TEST
Obtain one large, unhappy, live octopus. Stuff into a small net bag making sure that all the arms stay inside.
FEEDING TEST
Obtain a large plastic milk jug. Fill halfway with water. Suspend from the ceiling with a cord. Start the jug swinging. Try to insert spoonfuls of soggy cereal into the mouth of the jug, while pretending to be an airplane. Now dump the contents of the jug on the floor.
NIGHT TEST
Prepare by obtaining a small cloth bag and fill it with 8-12 pounds of sand. Soak it thoroughly in water. At 3:00p.m. begin to waltz and hum with the bag until 9:00p.m. Lay down your bag and set your alarm for 10:00p.m. Get up, pick up your bag, and sing every song you have ever heard. Make up about a dozen more and sing these too until 4:00a.m. Set alarm for 5:00a.m. Get up and make breakfast. Keep this up for 5 years. Look cheerful.
INGENUITY TEST
Take an egg carton. Using a pair of scissors and pot of paint, turn it into an alligator. Now take a toilet paper tube and turn it into an attractive Christmas candle. Use only scotch tape and a piece of foil. Last, take a milk carton, a ping-pong ball, and an empty box of Cocoa Puffs. Make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower.
AUTOMOBILE TEST
Forget the BMW and buy a station wagon. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there. Get a dime. Stick it into the cassette player. Take a family size package of chocolate chip cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car. There, perfect.
PHYSICAL TEST (Women)
Obtain a large bean bag chair and attach it to the front of your clothes. Leave it there for 9 months. Now remove 10 of the beans. And try not to notice your closet full of clothes. You won't be wearing them for a while.
PHYSICAL TEST (Men)
Go to the nearest drug store. Set your wallet on the counter. Ask the clerk to help himself. Now proceed to the nearest food store. Go to the head office and arrange for your paycheck to be directly deposited to the store. Purchase a newspaper. Go home and read it quietly for the last time.
FINAL ASSIGNMENT
Find a couple who already have a small child. Lecture them on how they can improve their discipline, patience, tolerance, toilet training and child's table manners. Suggest many ways they can improve. Emphasize to them that they should never allow their children to run wild. Enjoy this experience. It will be the last time you will have all the answers.
I'm sitting here watching the hockey game in my brand new flannel jammie pants. My wife made them for me today, and she's going to attempt a scrubs-style top this weekend.
Nothing more comfortable, so eat your heart out. Nya Nya. :D
"We like to hunt and golf on our days off,
scratch and spit and cuss.
And no matter what line we hand you when we come draggin' in,
We ain't wrong, we ain't sorry,
and it's probably gonna happen again."
-- Tracy Byrd, The Truth About Men
There's nothing better than the whole family getting together for Thanksgiving.
Chipotle.
I've come to hate that word. It's a roasted jalepeno pepper, fer pete's sake. But yuppiedom has taken that word and made it the 'in' thing, like they did to 'fajita'. Remember when every-freakin-thing was fajita-this and fajita-that?
Paradigm. Habenero. Meme.
People make me pro-nuclear.
As I was cooking dinner, a mouse ran out of the pantry and under the dishwasher. They move in every winter. *sigh* Gotta set some traps out.
Here's a pre-release review of the new DVD about the Clinton presidency. I figured that since the gift giving season is upon us, someone might find it useful.
It might be helpful to compare the new movie to one that most everybody has already seen. The similarities to the movie Titanic are eerie.
TITANIC: $25.49 on Amazon.com.
CLINTON: $13.99 on Amazon.com.
TITANIC: Over 3 hours long.
CLINTON: Over 3 hours long.
TITANIC: The story of Jack and Rose, their forbidden love, and subsequent catastrophe.
CLINTON: The story of Bill and Monica, their forbidden love, and subsequent catastrophe.
TITANIC: Jack is a starving artist.
CLINTON: Bill is a bullshit artist.
TITANIC: In one part, Jack enjoys a good cigar.
CLINTON: Ditto for Bill.
TITANIC: During ordeal, Rose's dress gets ruined.
CLINTON: Ditto for Monica.
TITANIC: Jack teaches Rose to spit.
CLINTON: Let's not go there.
TITANIC: Rose gets to keep her jewelry.
CLINTON: Monica's forced to return her gifts.
TITANIC: Rose remembers Jack for the rest of her life.
CLINTON: Monica doesn't remember jack.
TITANIC: Rose goes down on a vessel full of seamen.
CLINTON: Monica...uh, never mind.
TITANIC: Jack surrenders to an icy death.
CLINTON: Bill goes home to Hillary - basically the same thing.
So there you have it. I'm not Santa Helpful, but I try to do my part. Ho.
An elderly Jewish man is sitting on a park bench reading Louis Farrakhan's newspaper. His best friend walks by, sees the paper, and stops - in shock.
"What are you doing reading that paper?" he says. "You should be reading the 'Jewish Journal'!"
The elderly man replies, "The Jewish Journal has stories about anti-Semitism, problems in Israel - all kinds troubles of the Jewish people. I like to read about good news."
His friend gasps, "WHAT good news could possibly be in that paper???"
"Well, Farrakhan's paper says the Jews have all the money, the Jews control the banks, the Jews control the press, the Jews control Hollywood -- see? It's all good news!"
It's been a terrible week at work. I can handle being busy, but it's the stupidity that drives me up a wall. Blog-wise my job and workplace are what they call a 'target rich environment' but I don't talk about it because most of the frustration derives from training and forethought, or rather, the extreme lack of both. I mean, Custer's soldiers probably weren't incompetent, although you couldn't tell from the end result.
So I'm very happy because it's finally friday! And to celebrate:
Good reasons why you should go to work naked.
13. No one ever steals your chair.
12. Toner ink is really hard to get off of your blouse.
11. Much quicker to get that picture of your ass, boobs or balls on the photocopier without being seen.
Bonus: No one will do it right after you and you will have an exclusive.
10. Gives "bad hair day" a whole new meaning.
9. Diverts attention from the fact that you also came to work drunk.
8. People stop stealing your pens after they realize that you have no pockets, yet manage to keep your pen with you all day long.
7. So that -with a little help from Muzak- you can add "Exotic Dancer" to your exaggerated resume.
6. You want to see if it's like the dream.
5. To stop those creepy guys in in the computer room from looking down your blouse.
4. "I'd love to chip in, but I left my wallet in my pants."
3. Inventive way to finally meet that special person in Human Resources.
2. Can take advantage of computer monitor radiation to work on your tan.
Special Bonus: No Tan Lines
And, by far the number one compelling reason to go to work butt naked...
1. Your boss is always yelling, "I wanna see your ass in here by 8:00!"
Brings a whole new meaning to 'stain stick'...
"I read somewhere that 77 percent of all the mentally ill live in poverty. Actually, I'm more intrigued by the 23 percent who are apparently doing quite well for themselves."
-- Jerry Garcia (Grateful Dead)
"Clinton lied. A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is."
-- Barbara Bush (Former US First Lady)
"Things you'll never hear a woman say: 'My, what an attractive scrotum!'"
-- Patricia Arquette
"Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake whole relationships."
-- Sharon Stone
"Honesty is the key to a relationship. If you can fake that, you're in."
-- Courtney Cox (Monica on "Friends")
"Hockey is a sport for white men. Basketball is a sport for black men. Golf is a sport for white men dressed like black pimps."
-- Tiger Woods
(On the difference between men and women:)
"On the one hand, we'll never experience childbirth. On the other hand, we can open all our own jars."
--Bruce Willis
"And God said: 'Let there be Satan, so people, don't blame everything on me. And let there be lawyers, so people, don't blame everything on Satan."
-- George Burns
"The Web brings people together because no matter what kind of a twisted sexual mutant you happen to be, you've got millions of pals out there. Type in 'Find people that have sex with goats that are on fire' and the computer will ask, 'Specify type of goat.'"
-- Jason Alexander (George Castanza on Seinfeld)
"Luge strategy? Lie flat and try not to die."
-- Carmen Boyle (Olympic Luge Gold Medal winner - 1996)
"There are only two reasons to sit in the back row of an airplane: Either you have diarrhea, or you're anxious to meet people who do."
-- Henry Kissinger (former US Secretary of State)
"My girlfriend always laughs during sex - no matter what she's reading."
-- Steve Jobs (Founder: Apple Computers)
"My cousin just died. He was only 19. He got stung by a bee - the natural enemy of a tightrope walker."
-- Dan Rather (News anchorman)
"I saw a large woman wearing a sweatshirt with 'Guess' on it. I said, 'Thyroid problem?"
-- Arnold Schwarzenegger
You wanted to say it...
Michael Jackson is negotiating with authorities on how to turn himself in.
Betcha he wants to go to Juvenile Hall.
Mookie and I went to the library last night. I had a list of books that I wanted to look for, some suggested by fellow bloggers. Megan talked about the newest book by Lemony Snicket. No luck, big waiting list. Someone, I forget who, talked about the Illuminatus! Trilogy by Robert Anton Wilson. Nope, checked out. The DaVinci Code? Longer wait than for Snickett.
I wound up with the dregs from Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt, which was apparently pieced together from his computer files after his death along with some previously published non-Hitchhiker work. I also picked up another Patrick O'Brien novel. Thanks Norbi for that suggestion (I think that was yours, right?), and for those who don't know, this series is the inspiration for the movie Master and Commander.
I'm going to wind up buying most of these I guess, although the last thing I need is more books. More bookshelves now, those I could use.
Husband's note to his wife:
"Doctor's office called... Said Pabst beer is normal."
I have no idea as to whether this actually happened as related here, but it's funny as hell, so enjoy!
Radio Game Show
On the WBAM FM morning show in Chicago, the DJs play a game where they award winners great prizes. The game is called "Mate Match." The DJs call someone at work and ask if they are married or seriously involved with someone. If the contestant answers yes, he or she is then asked 3 random yet highly personal questions.
The person is also asked to divulge the name of their partner (with phone number) for verification. If their partner answers those same three questions correctly, they both win the prize.
One particular game, however, several months ago made the City of Big Shoulders drop to its knees with laughter and is possibly the funniest thing I've heard yet. Anyway, here's how it all went down:
DJ: "Hey! This is Edgar on WBAM. Have you ever heard of 'Mate Match'?"
Contestant: (laughing) "Yes I have."
DJ: "Great! Then you know we're giving away a trip to Orlando,Florida if you win. What is your name? First only please."
Contestant: "Brian."
DJ: "Brian, are you married or what?"
Brian: "Yes."
DJ: "Yes? Does that mean you're married or you're what?"
Brian: (laughing nervously) "Yes, I am married."
DJ: "Thank you. Now, what is your wife's name? First only please."
Brian: "Sara."
DJ: "Is Sara at work, Brian?"
Brian: "She is gonna kill me."
DJ: "Stay with me here, Brian! Is she at work?"
Brian: (laughing) Yes, she's at work."
DJ: "Okay, first question - when was the last time you had sex?"
Brian: "She is gonna kill me."
DJ: "Brian! Stay with me here!"
Brian: "About 8 o'clock this morning."
DJ: "Atta boy, Brian."
Brian: (laughing sheepishly) "Well..."
DJ: "Question #2 - How long did it last?"
Brian: "About 10 minutes."
DJ: "Wow! You really want that trip, huh? No one would ever have said that if a trip wasn't at stake."
Brian: "Yeah, that trip sure would be nice."
DJ: "Okay. Final question. Where did you have sex at 8 o'clock this morning?"
Brian: (laughing hard) "I, ummm, I, well..."
DJ: "This sounds good, Brian. Where was it at?"
Brian: "Not that it was all that great, but her Mom is staying for a couple of weeks..."
DJ: "Uh huh..."
Brian: "...and the Mother-in-law was in the shower at the Time."
DJ: "Atta boy, Brian."
Brian: "On the kitchen table."
DJ: "Not that great?? That is more adventure than the previous hundred times I've done it. Okay folks, I will put Brian on hold, get his wife's work number and call her up. You listen to this. (3 minutes of commercials follow.)
DJ: "Okay audience, let's call Sarah, shall we?" (touchtones ringing)
Clerk: "Kinkos."
DJ: "Hey, is Sarah around there somewhere?"
Clerk: "This is she."
DJ: "Sarah, this is Edgar with WBAM. We are live on the air right now and I've been talking with Brian for a couple of hours now."
Sarah: (laughing) "A couple of hours?"
DJ: "Well, a while now. He is on the line with us. Brian knows not to give any answers away or you'll lose. Sooooooo...do you know the rules of 'Mate match'?"
Sarah: "No."
DJ: "Good!"
Brian: (laughing)
Sarah: (laughing) "Brian, what the hell are you up to?"
Brian (laughing) "Just answer his questions honestly, okay? Be completely honest."
DJ: "Yeah yeah yeah. Sure. Now, I will ask you 3 questions, Sarah. If your answers match Brian's answers, then the both of you will be off to Orlando, Florida for 5 days on us. Disney World. Sea World. Tickets to the Magic's game. The whole deal. Get it Sarah?"
Sarah: (laughing) "Yes."
DJ: "All right. When did you last have sex, Sarah?"
Sarah: "Oh God, Brian....uh, this morning before Brian went to work."
DJ: "What time?"
Sarah: "Around 8 this morning."
DJ: "Very good. Next question. How long did it last?"
Sarah: "12, 15 minutes maybe."
DJ: "Hmmmm. That's close enough. I am sure she is trying to protect his manhood. We've got one last question, Sarah. You are one question away from a trip to Florida. Are you ready?"
Sarah: (laughing) "Yes."
DJ: "Where did you have it?"
Sarah: "OH MY GOD, BRIAN!! You didn't tell them that, did you?"
Brian: "Just tell him, honey."
DJ: "What is bothering you so much,Sarah?"
Sarah: "Well, it's just that my Mom is vacationing with us and..."
DJ: "She saw?"
Sarah: "BRIAN?!"
Brian: "No, no I didn't..."
DJ: "Ease up there, sister. Just messing' with your head. Your answer, please?"
Sara: "Dear Lord...I cannot believe you told them this."
Brian: "Come on, honey, it's for a free trip to Florida."
DJ: "Let's go, sister. We ain't got all day here. Where did you do it?"
Sarah: (short pause) "In the ass."
(long, long pause)
DJ: "We'll be right back after a word from our sponsors."
============
Like I said, this one is completely unverified, but I did see the episode of the Newlywed Game where something similar happened. You can guess the answer given by the clueless bride when asked "Where's the most unusual place you've ever made whoopee?" It was bleeped, but you could read her lips.
1. Your co-worker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.
2. You make over $250,000 and still can't afford a house.
3. You take a bus and are shocked at 2 people carrying on a conversation in English.
4. Your child's 3rd grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring, and is named Breeze.
5. You can't remember...is pot illegal?
6. You've been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.
7. You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown and can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian.
8. You know which restaurant serves the freshest arugula.
9. You can't remember.....is pot illegal?
10. A really great parking space can move you to tears.
11. A low speed pursuit will interrupt ANY TV broadcast.
12. Gas cost 75 cents per gallon more than anywhere else in the U.S.
13. A man gets on the bus in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps. You don't even notice.
14. Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney IS George Clooney.
15. Your car insurance costs as much as your house payment.
16. Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is into S & M and your Avon rep is a guy in drag.
17. You can't remember...is pot illegal?
18. It's sprinkling and there's a report on every news station about "STORM WATCH 2003."
19. You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Blanks himself is teaching the 4:00 PM Tae Bo class.
20. You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cell phones or pagers.
21. It's sprinkling outside, so you leave for work an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents.
22. Hey!!!! Is Pot Illegal????
23. You AND your dog have therapists.
Fun song, by Fountains of Wayne.
And I'd like to apologize to Rob, a good friend growing up, for having the serious hots for your mom back then. :D
David Letterman Top-10 style...
10. Reach in and grab the giblets.
9. Whew... that's one terrific spread!
8. I'm in the mood for a little dark meat.
7. Tying the legs together will keep the inside moist.
6. Talk about a huge breast!
5. "And he forces his way into the end zone."
4. She's 5000 pounds fully inflated and it takes 15 men to hold her down.
3. It's cool whip time!
2. If I don't unbuckle my pants, I'm going to burst.
1. It must be broken 'cause when I push on the tip, nothing squirts out.
NOTE: This application will be incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, driving record, lineage, and current certified medical report (including drug tests) from your doctor.
1. NAME _______________________________ DATE OF BIRTH ________________
2. HEIGHT ______________ WEIGHT __________ I.Q _______ G.P.A.____________
3. SOCIAL SECURITY # _____________ DRIVERS LICENSE # __________________
4. BOY SCOUT RANK____________________________________________________
5. HOME ADDRESS _________________ CITY/STATE ___________ ZIP __________
6. Do you have one MALE and one FEMALE parent? ___yes ___no
If No, EXPLAIN ______________________________________________________
7. Number of years your parents have been married ________________________
8. Do you own a van? ______ A truck with oversized tires? ______
A waterbed? _________
Do you have an earring, nose ring, belly button ring,
or a tattoo? _____________________
(If "yes" to any of #8, discontinue application and leave premises)
9. In 50 words or less, what does "LATE" mean to you?
_______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________
10. In 50 words or less, what does "DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER" mean to you?
_______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________
11. In 50 words or less, what does "ABSTINENCE" mean to you?
_______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________
12. Church you attend _____________
How often do you attend ______________________
13. When would be the best time to interview your father, mother
and priest/rabbi/minister? ____________________________________
14. Answer by filling in the blank: please answer freely. ALL answers are confidential (That means I won't tell anyone -ever- I promise.)
a) If I were shot, the last place on my body I would want wounded is
______________________________________
b) If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my
______________________________________
c) A woman's place is in the
______________________________________
d) The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is
______________________________________
e) When I first meet a girl, the first thing I notice about her is
______________________________________
(NOTE: If your answer begins with "T" or "A", discontinue. Leave premises keeping your head low. Running in a serpentine fashion is advised.)
15. What do you want to be IF you grow up?
____________________________________
Please Review the Following
Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object.
However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of theday. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you.
If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
I SWEAR THAT I HAVE READ ALL THE RULES AND THAT ALL INFORMATION SUPPLIED ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT, NATIVE AMERICAN ANT TORTURE, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE WATER TORTURE, AND RED HOT POKERS.
______________________________________________________________
Signature (That means sign your name)
Thank you for your interest. Please allow four to six years for processing. You will be notified in writing if you are approved. Please do not try to call or write. If you do attempt any communication before your application is approved, automatic disqualification will result.
If your application is rejected, you will be notified by two gentlemen wearing white ties and carrying violin cases (You might want to watch your back).
This is your "last chance" to check your answers.
(Perhaps you should re-check your response to question #10.)
Do you still want to date my daughter?
_____ Yes, please accept my application
_____ I um, no, I uh, think I have the wrong house.
I was trying to come up with a way to make some extra bucks for Christmas, and I think I've hit upon the perfect scam scheme plan!
Since Miss Cleo left the business, there's a definite imbalance between supply and demand. Plus, this doesn't rely on phone calls, so I don't have to bother with hiring those pesky clairvoyants who already know I'm not giving anyone a raise - ever.
All I need now is a small amount of seed money to purchase the email lists and software spawned in the depths of hell. Of course, I immediately thought of my friends and how I should offer them the opportunity to get in on the ground floor of this exciting venture. Anyone interested in investing in a high-growth-potential enterprise?
I've done some research and have decided that AutoSpam3000 is the package for me. In the extended entry is the letter I've decided to clog millions of email boxes with use.*
* For the severely humor impaired, this is a joke. I feel stupid for thinking I even need to put this disclaimer here, but my psychic said I should do it because of you, David. Idiot.
Hello there! The cards told me to contact you today for an important message! (They also asked me to pick up a loaf of bread on the way home today, but don't worry about that - unless you want my special "messages to me and how they affect you" reading, only $19.95 right now if you click on the link below).
I can sense that you are a Leo. I know this because I got your name, email address, and birthday - along with about 200,000 others - on a list I bought. This list cost me a lot of money, so I need you to assist me in helping you and others like you. Click on this link:
Very good. Now I shall draw your card from the deck and place it on the table before me. I do this for two reasons; 1. you are not here in person, and 2. if you were, and you sat on the table before me, there wouldn't be room for the cards. It's a small table.
Ok, your card is the 6 of spad... I mean the Queen of Wands. This represents you. Just flatter and kinda rectangular.
Now we draw the first card. This represents everything in your life that's going to happen in the next hour. And that card is the 3 of club... er... the Jester of Cups!
Now I will interpret this card for you. Remember, this is a complimentary reading designed to get you to actually pay for more of these, so the cards don't actually mean anything unless you have jacks or better to open. Also, at this time, I wish to remind you that you can influence your fate - and your reading - by clicking on the following link. And, as always, please be generous.
Back so soon? Hmmmmm... things don't look so good for you, you cheapskate. In your case, the Jester means terrible things will happen. Your eyeglasses prescription will run out just as you are crossing the street. Your husband will accidentally switch his Viagra and Minoxodil, which makes the hair he has left stand up on end, and he will be constantly hacking up hairballs. This will cause you to become moody and exceptionally crabby for at least one week out of the next month. Your child will sue you for mal-parenting when scientists discover that people who run with scissors are 25% less likely to get fingernail cancer. You will be humiliated when your mother appears on the cover of the Weekly World News because of her sinful love triangle with bigfoot and the ghost of elvis.
What can you do? Well, click on this link:
and I will get back to you.
--------------------
This reading is a free service, and you'll be getting these annoying things every couple of weeks for the rest of your life. Don't change your email address, I'll just buy another list! Same goes for moving... that ain't gonna cut it, bucko! If you absolutely, positively, have to be taken off of our automatic "people who haven't filed a lawsuit against us yet" list, then click the link below:
PERFECT DAY FOR A WOMAN
8:15 Wake up to hugs and kisses.
8:30 Weigh 5 lbs. lighter than yesterday.
8:45 Breakfast in bed, fresh squeezed orange juice and croissants.
9:15 Soothing hot bath with fragrant lilac bath oil.
10:00 Light workout at club with handsome, funny personal trainer.
10:30 Facial, manicure, shampoo, and comb out.
12:00 Lunch with best friend at an outdoor cafe.
12:45 Notice ex-boyfriend's wife, she has gained 30 lbs.
1:00 Shopping with friends.
3:00 Nap.
4:00 A dozen roses delivered by florist. Card is from a secret admirer.
4:15 Light workout at club followed by a gentle massage
5:30 Pick outfit for dinner. Primp before mirror.
7:30 Candlelight dinner for two followed by dancing.
10:00 Hot shower. Alone.
10:30 Make love.
11:00 Pillow talk, light touching and cuddling.
11:15 Fall asleep in his big, strong arms.
In the extended entry is the version for us guys.
PERFECT DAY FOR A MAN
6:00 Alarm.
6:15 Blowjob.
6:30 Massive dump while reading the sports section.
7:00 Breakfast. Filet Mignon, eggs, toast and coffee.
7:30 Limo arrives.
7:45 Bloody Mary en route to airport.
8:15 Private jet to Augusta, Georgia.
9:30 Limo to Augusta National Golf Club.
9:45 Play front nine at Augusta, finish 2 under par.
11:45 Lunch. 2 dozen oysters on the half shell. 3 Heinekens.
12:15 Blowjob.
12:30 Play back nine at Augusta, finish 4 under par.
2:15 Limo back to airport. Drink 2 Bombay martinis.
2:30 Private jet to Nassau, Bahamas. Nap.
3:15 Late afternoon fishing excursion with topless female crew.
4:30 Catch world record light tackle marlin-1249 lbs.
5:00 Jet back home. En route, get massage from naked supermodel.
7:00 Watch CNN Newsflash. Clinton resigns. (ok, so this is a little dated)
7:30 Dinner. Lobster appetizers, 1963 Dom Perignon, 20 Oz. New York strip.
9:00 Relax after dinner with 1789 Augler Cognac and Cohiba Cuban cigar.
10:00 Have sex with two 18 year old nymphomaniacs.
11:00 Massage and Jacuzzi.
11:45 Go to bed.
11:50 Let loose a 12 second, 4 octave fart. Watch the dog leave the room.
11:55 Laugh yourself to sleep.
A man and a woman were driving down the road arguing about his deplorable infidelity. Suddenly the woman reaches over and slices off the man's pecker. Angrily the woman tosses the pecker out the window of the car.
Driving behind the car is a fella in a pickup truck with his 10-year-old daughter, chatting away beside him. All of a sudden, the pecker smacks the pickup in the windshield, sticks for a moment, then flies off.
Surprised, the daughter asks her daddy, "Daddy what in the heck was that?
Not wanting to expose his 10-year-old daughter to sex at such a tender age, the father replies, "It was only a bug, honey."
The daughter gets a confused look on her face, and after a minute she says, "Sure had a big dick, didn't it?!"
Let's do it again!
Another church sign in the extended entry.
Remember them. Thank them. Honor them. Fly the flag.
Me? I've got some plumbing to do (damn).
Virginity like bubble, one prick, all gone.
Man who run in front of car get tired.
Man who run behind car get exhausted.
Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.
Man with one chopstick go hungry.
Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.
Baseball is wrong: man with four balls cannot walk.
Panties not best thing on earth but next to best thing on earth.
Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.
War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.
Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.
Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.
It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
Man who drive like hell bound to get there.
Man who live in glass house should change clothes in basement.
Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.
Man who fart in church sit in own pew.
Crowded elevator smell different to midget.
I'm going to hell for this, I just know it.
My church sign is in the extended entry.
Go here to make your own. Don't worry, we'll scoot over.
DESIRE
Damn, in that tube-top
You make me almost forget
That you are my cousin
BEAUTY
Naked in repose
Silvery silhouette girls
Adorn my mudflaps
REMORSE
A painful sadness
Can't fit big screen TV through
Double-wide's front door
DEPRIVED
In WalMart toy aisle
Wailing boy wants wrestling doll
Mama whups his ass
OPTIONS
Unemployment's out.
Hey, maybe I can get on
Disability
BLAZE
Distant siren screams
Dumb-ass Verne's been playing with
Gasoline again
A NEW MOON
Flashlights pierce darkness
No nightcrawlers to be found
Guess we'll gig some frogs
Read this question, come up with an answer and then check the extended entry for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads.
A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met this guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy she believed him to be, that she fell in love with him right there but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.
Question: What is her motive in killing her sister? (Give this some thought before you answer)
Answer: She was hoping that the guy would appear at the funeral again.
If you answered this correctly, you think like a psychopath. This was a test by a famous American Psychologist used to test if one has the same mentality as a killer. Many arrested serial killers took part in the test and answered the question correctly. If you didn't answer the question correctly good for you. If you got the answer correct, please let me know so I can take you off of my e-mail list unless that will tick you off, then I'll just be extra nice to you from now on.
---
Alright, the above is pretty much how I originally saw the question/answer the first time, but Snopes blows that myth out of the water.
What, you don't know about Snopes? Good grief, Snopes is the place to find out all about urban legends and the like. There's also no truth to the rumor that it's run by a Nigerian who needs your help...
A man was in a terrible accident, and his "manhood" was mangled and torn from his body. His doctor assured him that modern medicine could give him back his manhood, but that his insurance wouldn't cover the surgery, since it was considered cosmetic.
The doctor said that the cost would be $3500 for "small," $6500 for "medium," and $14,000 for "large." The man was sure he would want a medium or large, but the doctor urged him to talk it over with his wife before he made any decision.
The man called his wife on the phone and explained their options. The doctor came back into the room, and found the man looking quite dejected. "Well, what have the two of you decided?" asked the doctor. The man answered, "She'd rather remodel the kitchen."
Last night the San Jose Sharks played the Boston Bruins and wonder of wonders, it was televised. That's a good thing, because watching the local Washington Capitals lately has been painful and last night was no exception.
The game was mucho fun to watch, ending in a 5-5 tie. After the Sharks imploded last year, a major overhaul was begun and this years version is younger and faster than previous teams. They also unloaded some high-priced and underachieving stars, which seems to have changed the chemistry of the team for the better. They have enough veterans to provide the leadership needed, and the older players are all grinders and workers, setting the example for the youngsters.
There were a couple of times during the game when the old Sharks would have folded or gotten panicky and made a stupid mistake. That didn't happen.
The Sharks need the young kids to mature rapidly this season, and players like Marleau and Sturm have to play up to their potential. We've been waiting for them to break thru for several years now, and we're getting impatient.
In goal, the Sharks have three solid goalies. Most teams only carry two, and I don't know what the Sharks are planning to do long-term. Last night third-string goalie Teskala played a pretty good game and although the Bruins scored five goals, there were no 'cheap' goals on either side. It was good goaltending getting beat by good shots.
Young and rebuilding, the Sharks have a chance to make the playoffs this season (I know, I know, that's not hard to do in hockey... tell it to the Rangers). This team is going to be fun to watch.
Enough for one each day of the month, with a couple spares. Become one of life's success stories, courtesy of Rocket Jones.
1. As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I can get in touch with my Inner Sociopath.
2. I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.
3. I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else’s fault.
4. I no longer need to punish, deceive or compromise myself. Unless, of course, I want to stay employed.
5. In some cultures what I do would be considered normal.
6. Having control over myself is nearly as good as having control over others.
7. My intuition nearly makes up for my lack of good judgment.
8. I honor my personality flaws, for without them I would have no personality at all.
9. Joan of Arc heard voices too.
10. I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.
11. I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper and complain.
12. As I learn the innermost secrets of the people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.
13. When someone hurts me, forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit. But not nearly as gratifying.
14. The first step is to say nice things about myself. The second, to do nice things for myself. The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.
15. As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.
16. All of me is beautiful and valuable, even the ugly, stupid, and disgusting parts.
17. I am at one with my duality.
18. Blessed are the flexible, for they can tie themselves into knots.
19. I will strive to live each day as if it were my 40th birthday.
20. Only a lack of imagination saves me from immobilizing myself with imaginary fears.
21. I honor and express all facets of my being, regardless of state and local laws.
22. Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than “I told you so.”
23. False hope is nicer than no hope at all.
24. A good scapegoat is nearly as welcome as a solution to the problem.
25. Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day watching TV. Instead I will move my TV into the bedroom.
26. Who can I blame for my own problems? Give me just a minute... I’ll find someone.
27. It’s not whether you win or lose, but where you place the blame.
28. Why should I waste my time reliving the past when I can spend it worrying about the future?
29. The complete lack of evidence is the surest sign that the conspiracy is working.
30. I am learning that criticism is not nearly as effective as sabotage.
31. Becoming aware of my character defects leads me to the next step - blaming my parents.
32. To have a successful relationship I must learn to make it look like I’m giving as much as I’m getting.
33. I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them.
Victor, Nic and Stevie: thought you might be interested. There are pictures and everything.
Over on the right column is a tagline that changes every few days, and right below it is the link to my tagline archive where you can view past bits of wisdom and whimsy. If you have one to contribute, send it in and I'll post it up.
It's been a while since I've posted a Bill picture.
Bill throws a lot of parties. It's because no one will invite him to their house.
Open it up to see Bill's halloween costume.
There is some debate as to whether he's the cowboy or the sheep.
Welcome to the visitors who reached this blog by searching Google for:
"Lanced boil pictures"
"Auction houses in San Fransisco"
"Anti-Halloween Poem"
"Estes rocket vegetable"
Watching the commercials for Cadillac yesterday, it struck me that they made a brilliant choice of theme music for their SUVish model: Led Zepplin (I recognize the song, but can't place the title). The song has energy and fits perfectly with the image they try to show, plus the target audience are the exact same people who grew up listening to Zep.
I've also been enjoying the Chrysler "Harley" whatever-his-name-is commercials. Very nice.
I don't know what was worse yesterday, listening to Chris Collinsworth compare the Redskins pass rush to high school football, or hearing Howie Long and crew mock the 'skins. Because every single thing they said was absolute truth. The Redskins have sunk to the lowest of the low. The Lions, Bengals and Texans have been replaced by the Raiders and Redskins this year.
Patrick Ramsey isn't going to last the season at this rate. The kid is tough, he's got talent, but he's going to get hurt badly one of these games. Right now, Ramsey has the chance to be the new Manning. Archie, not Peyton. A fine quarterback on a hopelessly cruddy team.
Spurrier has to go. So does about half of the roster, because even less talented players would be better than the overpaid quitters that are collecting paychecks now, as long as they tried hard. Every play. Lose every damn game - fine - but go down swinging.
I don't even like the Redskins, but they're local so you pick up the information by osmosis.
Rick freakin' Mirer. Oh God, help the Raider Nation.
For some unknown reason I just looked under my computer table and noticed a big spider web in the far corner between the wall and leg and floor. There are two daddy long-legs dead and hanging in this web. Now I'm freaked out. I'll be back, I need to get the flamethrower broom and vacuum cleaner.
"If you really believe that after death comes eternal bliss, then why are you wearing a seatbelt?" I heard that on the Man Show.
Helen discussed personal grooming a bit ago and it reminded me of a picture I wanted to post. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it. Fortunately, Eros Blog posted the exact picture! I must be living right. Helen, if voting is still open, then this gets my vote.
I've finished off most of a bottle of Spatlese wine today (pronounced spate-lace). It's a German wine, and with this bottle my annual consumption of wine has doubled.
Does anyone have a good onion soup recipe? I have an ok one, but it's nothing special. My recipe has wine in it, which is what got me to thinking about it.
I've been on a horror flick buying binge this month. Yesterday I picked up Stephen King's Silver Bullet, which is ok. It's one of the few horror movies my wife will watch, and it stars Megan Follows, and I've stalked lusted after enjoyed her work for years.
I also picked up Rosemary's Baby. Classic. The last addition to the library was a collection called "AMC Cult Classics". Four movies - The Atomic Brain (the link has the movie under an alternate title), The Brain That Wouldn't Die, Night Tide (with Dennis Hopper), and Carnival of Souls. I have Carnival in another collection, it's kinda weird to double up on an obscure flick like that.
If you like love those cheesy classics, you'll enjoy The Astounding B Monster website.
My friend Dan lent me 28 Days Later. It's almost midnight and everyone else is in bed. Time to go watch zombies.
Not boogers. Not gray-green blobby things that terrorize movie theaters either. I'm talking about The Awful Green Things From Outer Space!
It's the board game equivalent of watching old SciFi movies after too much Jolt Cola. Yum... I mean, Fun.
Have a safe and fun day, and if you have a problem with it remember that to most people, Halloween has as much to do with satanism as Christmas does to the birth of Christ.
It's a fun holiday, that's all.
Check out Google.
I got into it one year with our school district when they sent home a letter saying costumes of devils and ghosts weren't allowed. I sent back a letter saying that if they were excluding that type of costume, then there had better not be any little angels or shepherds around either.
They got the point.
We found this chair at work. More precisely, we noticed it one day. It just kind of appeared, and nobody knows exactly when it arrived or who it belonged to.
It's similar to your standard office chair with dark blue fabric and dusty black plastic frame. We pretty much agree it's what they call a "manager's chair", because it has the high back and arms typical of that style.
But there's something besides the back and arms that tells me it's a chair for management. The seat has this odd, indentation, that I've never seen before. It's designed that way too.
We have theories about the reason for it. I'll list three of them here:
1. The indentation prevents the manager's voice from being muffled when he's making a command decision.
2. It's designed to hold the overflow when the manager wets himself upon discovering the catastrophic consequences from one of his decisions.
3. The indentation relieves stress on the neck when the manager is in the typical managerial position.
So what do you think? Give us your thoughts, theories and conjecture. Be creative and entertain us.
PS. if you know what it's really for, we'd like to know that too.
Google search:
"pictures of naked women at Stonehenge"
I'm number ten on the list, and actually got a visit. Druid babes.
I wonder if they were looking for the movie Untamed Women? The reviews are awful. If you insist on seeing this kind of crap (and I dearly love these B-movies myself), I'd recommend instead Cannibal Women in the Avacado Jungle of Death. Really!
Our T1’s are back this morning. After running the usual batch of Wednesday morning jobs, I kicked off a little monster that’s going to give me plenty of time to catch up on email and do a little blogging. I wrote it Monday morning and it ran for 3½ hours before coming up with nada. That’s ok, because the null result told me something all by itself. A little tweaking, and she’s off and running again this morning. It’s pretty cool, because we have our own mainframe to play on when I need to run some brute-force number crunching.
I have this cooking pot that I absolutely love. It’s huge, non-stick, and shaped like a cross between a wok and a frying pan. It also has a nice glass lid that I hate with a passion. Monday night while cooking, I lifted the lid – away from me to avoid the scalding steam – and the condensation trapped in the steam vents went pouring down over my hand. Since it’s a glass lid, I couldn’t throw it (although I wanted to), I had to find a place to set it down before doing the ouchie dance. Minor burns, and just one blister on my ring finger. Naturally, when I lanced the blister, it squirted like a grapefruit and got me right in the eye. Yuk.
Jennifer answered questions submitted by folks, graciously hosted by Daniel. Since I work at McDonalds have a liberal arts degree with a minor in psychology, I must say that her answers are very revealing. She reminds me of my mom in that she has that straightforward Iowa attitude. Watch the first part of The Music Man (the Robert Preston version please), and you’ll see what I mean. (disclaimer: it's a joke. I don't have a liberal arts degree.)
The new Disintegrator at work is tres cool! It’s like the 7-11 Big Gulp of shredders, except it handles metal too. The biggest problem they’ve had was feeding it telephones, because while it was chewing up the metal and circuit boards inside, it was melting the plastic cases, which dripped down into works and gummed things up. It eats hard drives all day long. Tim Allen would love this thing.
Writing is hard work for me. I so envy those people who’s words just seem to flow effortlessly. I hated English in school, and my first jobs didn’t require writing skills. Once I gained a couple of stripes in the Air Force and became a supervisor, I had to learn how to write and I worked hard to improve. Writing for the military is unlike any other in the world, the style and conventions are downright alien at times. My next phase of learning to write was technical writing as a programmer/analyst. Once again, this isn’t a whole lot like what ordinary people write like. Finally, once I got out of the military, I had to learn to write 'government'. Most of my consulting jobs since then have been with various Departments and Agencies, and they have their own ideas of what constitutes acceptable writing. Throw in my own natural tendency to write like I speak, including incomplete sentences, slang and intentional odd spellings, and you can see why I suck. At least I’m good at spelling.
I just started playing StarCraft about a year ago, thanks to Mookie. She regularly kicks my butt, but not easily. I usually play the Terrans. Before that, the last computer game I played with any regularity was SimTower, and before that SimLife, and before that SimCity, and before that SimAnt. See the trend?
Spork invited people to tell about their personal boycotts and I went off a bit in his comments about a few peeves of mine. Although not quite in the same category, I’m also sick and tired of commercials telling me that I should donate my car, house, boat, airplane, inheritance property (seriously!), etc. to such-and-such charity. The most annoying in this area is Melwood Academy for ‘special’ kids. I’m sure they do fine work, but quit using the kids to guilt people into donating. And as for donating inherited property and such – get real. I have a friend who tried to donate a car to a charity, and they wouldn’t take it unless it was less than a few years old and in perfect shape. Screw ‘em. When we have something for charity, it goes to the veterans.
Not to be totally ornery this morning (I did sleep good after all), but if someone says they want to 'axe' me anything, they're inviting personal injury as I go into self-defense mode. Hearing that particular mispronunciation is like nails on a chalkboard to me.
And to end on a happier note, Mookie made the Carnival of the Vanities.
* ‘Ripple Fire’ is a mode whereas multiple military rockets are launched at a (usually ground) target in rapid sequence. It’s similar to machine-gun fire, but with big booms at the receiving end.
I use the title for disjointed snippets and thoughts too short for their own posts.
I'm glad I tossed those two posts out there this morning, because our T1 lines at work are down, rendering every PC in the building nothing more than a standalone. It's frustrating and when you're entire functionality depends on the mainframe computer at another site, well, let's just say that I was bored to tears today. I spent time cleaning up my hard drive, and... uh, that's about it. No word on when the T1's would be working again, or even what the problem is. So for an undetermined length of time, I'll have no mainframe access, no intranet, no internet and no outside email.
*sigh* Tomorrow I'm taking a book with me.
* TFZ (for Technology Free Zone) courtesy of the lovely Susie.
Er, come on up! At least I hope so.
The long-time announcer for television's The Price is Right died yesterday after a long bout with cancer. Nuetered animals across the country were heard to mutter "wrong guy, dammit".
Mookie had stage crew yesterday, building sets and such for the upcoming fall production at school. When we got to the school, I noticed a group of guys playing cricket in the drivers education area, which is a big open stretch of asphalt next to the parking lot.
I drove by slowly to watch a little, but didn't stop because I just know they would've invited me to play and then taught me a bunch of silly made-up rules so they could laugh at me and get even for colonialism.
Pixy and Susie commiserate with each other about grueling work schedules. Being a programmer, I've worked some helacious stretches too, it seems to come with the job. One time, while working for a difficult client, we had this memorable exchange:
Client: You charged me for 21 hours that day!
Me: That's correct.
Client: How can you be productive for 21 hours?
Me: I can't. Towards the end, I was so tired I was practically incoherent.
Client: Then why did you waste my money like that?
Me: Because you brought me a hot project a half hour before quitting time, and said it was due first thing the next morning.
Client: Well, you should work faster. And quit wasting my money.
Criss Angel, magician extraordinaire, will have a special on the SciFi Channel at 9pm Halloween.
Colorado left wing Paul Kariya will be out indefinitely with a sprained right wrist, so the Avalanche acquired left wing Steve Konowalchuk in a trade with the Washington Capitals on Wednesday.
Something has to be done with the listless Caps. I just didn't expect it to be Kono. Wow.
So when is Jagr going to the Rangers?
I'm watching the World Series and Pudge Rodriguez comes to bat, and the graphic along with his name tells me that his favorite movie is Scarface and his favorite musical artist is Yanni.
WHO GIVES A SHIT!!!!!
Freaking World Series brought to you by the XFL. Tell me how much money he makes, what his batting average is against left handed dyslexic kleptomaniacs, or that he doesn't change his underwear during winning streaks, but for Pete's sake don't tell me non-baseball related stupidity. I get enough of that elsewhere.
UPDATE: Yanni is in the stands. So is Mike Tyson. I say put 'em together and Mike gets a meal, and gets put away for good. With leniency for doing in freakin' Yanni.
On the little opening sequence of The World According To Jim, Jim Belushi's wife and her brother are talking about how long 'he' has to stay with them. The answer is "could be until the Cubs win the World Series".
Jim Belushi comes down the stairs with the Third Base Guy!* He's in hiding, but dressed just like he was at the game (headphones, jacket, etc). Jim tells him that his new name is "Ed... Ed Gameblower. No, sorry, that was mean. How about Ed Dreamwrecker."
Then the wife goes to throw Jim his car keys, and you can guess what happens.
Funny as hell.
* I don't know if it was the actual guy, but the resemblance was there.
A US judge gave her ruling in rap when she dismissed a case by a former schoolmate of Eminem who was suing him for defamation.
"Mr Bailey complains that his (Eminem's) rap is trash, so he's seeking compensation in the form of cash," she wrote.
"Bailey thinks he's entitled to some monetary gain, because Eminem used his name in vain.
"The lyrics are stories no one would take as fact, they're an exaggeration of a childish act.
"It is therefore this court's ultimate position, that Eminem is entitled to summary disposition," she concluded.
Word.
Jen's comment on this got me to thinking about age. I don't know about you, but the only birthdays I cared about were:
18 - legal to drink in some states.
21 - legal to drink everywhere.
25 - auto insurance went down.
30 - officially no longer a 'kid'.
Other than that, I really didn't care. Now here are some milestones that bugged me a little:
First time I saw a Playboy playmate younger than me.
First time I saw a Playboy playmate younger than my little brother.
First time I saw a Playboy playmate younger than the year I graduated high school.
Being called 'Sir' for the first time. This one was due to my military rank and a young MP. I was a sergeant and too damn young to be a 'Sir'!
In the NHL, the Phoenix Coyotes have completely revamped their uniforms, scrapping the old "peyote-dog" (my description, but I loved it) for a cleaner and more traditional look. I have to admit I like the new ones better, and their 'evolution video' is way cool. Meanwhile, both the Dallas Stars and Minnesota Wild introduced new 'third' logos and jerseys this year. Minnesota also moved more towards the traditional while Dallas tries to become Texas' team.
You know what just occurred to me? When I think about vintage television, I picture old black&white shows, but I talked about 'vintage television' and was referencing a show from 1979! Hell, I was already in the military in 1979. Must be the mind going...
The song 'I Love You More Today (Than Yesterday)' was sung by Spiral Staircase, a classic one-hit wonder. I know this because my wife told me so last night. It had been bugging her after hearing it on the radio.
Not to sound obsessive or anything, but Jennifer is a punk. She only slightly amends my opinion by inviting everyone to spend the day on her boat.
Mookie and Mom are getting ready for work. Mookie just popped downstairs to tell me she noticed that Jethro Tull's first compilation CD is titled 'M.U. The Best of Jethro Tull'. I'm a big Tull fan. One of the best concerts I've ever seen was Tull in Germany, in a smallish hall. Just me and a few thousand very mellow friends. I was one of the youngest people there.
I'm wearing a baseball cap because I had to go out back and hush the dogs up. It's too early to be barking, which has nothing to do with the hat, but I have a world-class case of bed-head going on.
Lots to do, enjoy the day!
I've been moving links off the main page and putting them here, which works well for me. Unfortunately, links not on the main page are missed by Technorati, so I've put most of them back at the bottom of the right hand column.
I'll be fiddling with it over the weekend I'm sure.
First it was box-cutters, knitting needles and nail clippers. Now it's Teddy Bears, pillows, and ping-pong balls. Twice now in two days I've heard someone mention that we'll all be flying naked before long, maybe wrapped up in colored tamper-proof security saran wrap to prove who's gone through the mandatory pre-boarding body cavity search.
Security Hostess: Coach on the left, First Class on the right.
Passenger: What's the difference?
Security Hostess: Vaseline.
No matter who you root for (or against), this year's baseball playoffs are everything that sports promises to fans. Rivalry, controversy, close series, joy, despair, spectacular plays and excrutiating flubs.
One of the best in a long long time.
At the risk of ticking off several people that I respect highly, I'd like to make the following statement.
If it makes you feel better to blame some poor guy because on one play he went after a foul ball (like that never ever happens), and your team blew it big time, then knock yourselves out. But you're overreacting like toddlers throwing a temper tantrum.
The luckiest man in the world today is the Cubs shortstop, who committed an error that nobody seems to remember...
Back in July I wrote about a good day spent with my friend John and his students. These were kids in summer school, enjoying a program developed by John to expose them to various types of technology including robotics, computer sciences and aeronautics.
John emailed me today. He got a state educational award for his program! This guy is way too modest, and he's a sterling example of what teachers should aspire to. His summer staff (four other teachers) are all the same way.
Way to go John and team!!!!!
The text of his award is in the extended entry.
T.C. Williams High School Teacher John Nunn was recently honored by
the Virginia Mathematics and Science Coalition (VMSC) for his
Technology, Engineering, Mathematics, and Science program (TEMS). The
VMSC recognizes schools and individuals with a "Programs that Work"
award for initiatives that change the levels of success that Virginia
students reach in mathematics and science. The "Programs that Work"
award included a reception and buffet at Governor Mark Warner's mansion
in Richmond, Va., on October 13, and a $300 honorarium.
"We are delighted and extremely proud of Mr. Nunn and his
accomplishments with the TEMS program," said ACPS Superintendent Rebecca
L. Perry. "It is a huge tribute when the Governor commends you and
recognizes your achievements on the state level. We are very honored to
have a teacher of this caliber serving the students of ACPS."
The TEMS program was created four years ago to enhance minority
students' performance in math and science to narrow and ultimately close
the achievement gap. As the program coordinator, Nunn has seen the
summer program for 7th to 9th graders grow exponentially along with the
curriculum. Students in the TEMS program learn math and science through
hands-on projects in robotics, engineering, web page building, field
trips, and job shadowing. The TEMS program has been featured nationally
by the National Society of Black Engineers.
The list over on the right column shortened up again. This doesn't mean I no longer read those folks, it means that I go to my links roster to get to them. It's at the top of my links section, titled "All the cool people and places".
Nobody was permanently removed, but two more were added. Welcome to Denita and Eric of Who Tends the Fires, and StMack of Hold the Mayo. Both good reads, and the reason I didn't list them before is because... uh... giant spiders were living under my keyboard. Yep.
Is anybody really surprised?
Bill tried a career in acting after losing out in his Village People audition. A quote from Variety: "Hey, I already had the uniform."
Jennifer works her magic once again.
Dallas beat Philadelphia. Oakland lost to Cleveland.
Today, Paul was right, and Stevie is happy. But sweetie (Stevie, not Paul), the Cowboys will never be cool.
Mary Zorn is a student at Texas A&M University. She's also one of the world's best archers using a compound bow, winning the 2003 World Outdoor Archery Championships and setting five new World Records. Just how good is she?
According to Sports Illustrated, at the world championships some of the targets had tiny cameras in the dead center of the bullseye. From 70 yards away, she shot an arrow directly into the lens and exploded the camera. Twice. An official gave her one of the cameras as a souvenier and the shots were replayed constantly during the matches.
Ever wonder where Gummybears come from? (not work safe)
Be nice, I know what you're thinking. :)
A while back I spent a week thrashed by an infection that started with a broken molar. Well, today I'm starting the sequel. I've been trying to wait until after the new year to get some dental work taken care of, but it looks like I'm going to need another tooth pulled and another round of heavy-duty antibiotics ASAP. This time it's on the other side of my mouth, and it's a tooth that hasn't bothered me before, although the dentist agreed that it needs to come out. It started to hurt pretty good yesterday, and this morning the swelling has started. I'll be calling the dentist in a little bit for an appointment and (most importantly) drugs.
This is two three-day weekends in a row that this has happened. I'm a creature of habit, but this is getting ridiculous.
This guy tells the story of waking up one night to the sound of a breaking window. He investigates and sees an armed man in his house. Go read the rest.
Thanks to Kelley for the link.
Not only that, but he's a whining baby with a dark past. I guess I should be more careful since he's got Michele and God on his side (not necessarily in that order). I've never been one to take the hint and lay low, so here you go Bill, all the freakin' linkage you've been begging for.
I've got the goods on you, pal. You're living a lie and I have proof that you're not the wild-assed party animal you pretend to be on the internet. Photographic evidence exists in the extended entry.
Concept and research by Ted, damning evidence provided by the supremely talented Jennifer. With love Bill, with love.
I once had the honor of being the narrator for this ceremony in remembrance of American POW/MIA's. It's incredibly moving and if you ever get the opportunity to see it, I highly recommend it.
Another wonderful one to see is a formal Flag Disposal.
Contact your local VFW or American Legion for information about patriotic events and ceremony's in your area.
Bill sucks 18% more now that's he's shovelled a year's worth of crapola at the unwary.
No, not Arnold. Not me either. I'm talking about that very first exposure to practical and organized politics: Student Council. Hall monitor and roll call runner were small potatoes, and the playground pecking order paled in comparison to the enormity of this decision unceremoniously thrust upon thousands of unprepared freshmen.
Composed of the popularity contest winners, the brainiacs who needed it to pad their college resume's, and the pie-in-the-sky dreamers who actually thought they would be able to make changes in an adult-dominated system, the Student Council never interested me. I just couldn't see the import of whether we should have both coke and pepsi machines in the school and other such trivial crapola.
What got me started thinking about this is that Mookie* has been approached to run for Student Council, and apparently has some rather wide-spread support. She acknowleges that it would look good on college applications, but doesn't seem all fired up at the prospect. She's too cynical and sarcastic to take it seriously, and despite what I said above, it should be taken seriously precisely because it's the first exposure to real-world politics. Ignore the results and study the process in action.
Why Mookie? It seems that there are some subtle things at work here, beyond the generalizations I made earlier about who runs and why. She's not cliquish, so she doesn't automatically get the popularity vote, but that group knows her from her work with Homecoming and Drama projects. Even the groups she doesn't hang around with (or can't stand) are at least on nodding terms in the hallway because she makes it a point to be civil to everyone. Her attitude is that she doesn't have to like someone to work with them on school projects, and I like to think she learned that from me.
She does have that snotty and sly sense of humor though, which apparently is part of her appeal. She apologizes to people who have no idea that she insulted them just a few minutes before, because they didn't get the joke. It's kind of like Dennis Miller running for President under the "I'm OK, You're Romulus or Remus (not that it matters)" slogan.
She really has no time or interest in this right now, but if she did, I'd suggest making her campaign slogan "I Am Not A Crook." Once elected, find out who voted for her, round them up and shoot them. Because nothing is more dangerous than the arrogant intelligentsia.
Oui.
* Mookie is my teenaged daughter and blogger-at-large. She's the last one at home, her older brother and sister already having escaped the asylum flown the coop left the nest.
The mother of an employee who killed several co-workers before taking his own life is filing for workers' compensation because her son lost his life in the workplace.
Isn't that like the boy on trial for murdering his parents, and asking for clemency because he's an orphan?
I haven't done the promised 'Stevie' special edition of the Google Junket, and I haven't done a 'Rocketing Around' in a while, but I did warn y'all that things get hectic for me around the start of Uncle Sam's fiscal year.
Not an excuse, just the reason.
Dave Barry has inconvenienced the Telemarketers yet again. The whole story is a riot, but here's the most important bit.
Call the American Telemarketing Association at the number above and try to sell them on the idea that calling us to sell us stuff isn't such a great idea.
A British scientist has calculated the optimum thickness for a slice of cheese to make the perfect cheese sandwich.
Being the mildly lecherous soul that I am, I'd further suggest that the perfect cheese sandwich would be served by LeeAnn in a french maid outfit with an ice-cold beer and a napkin containing one of her weird and wonderful little artwork discoveries.
It is cheese ya know.
All right, the draft is done and I got a chance to see what my team looks like. I'll just start off listing a few names I recognize. I'll have to do some digging for some player info, because the roster is deep and I've never been in a fantasy hockey league before.
Centers: Mats Sundin (Totonto) and Olie Jokinen (Florida) are my main guns here. I've heard of three of the four other centers on the roster. Not too shabby.
Wingers: Brendan Shanahan (Detroit), Miroslav Satan (Buffalo), Anson Carter (NY Rangers) and Tie Domi (Toronto) up front. I also have former Cap Chris Simon, when did he join the Rangers? The rest of my wingers are a mystery to me.
Defense: This doesn't look good. Local boy Jason Doig (Capitals) is the only name I know except for Radek Martinek (NY Islanders) and Nolan Baumgartner (Pittsburgh), and both those teams were horrible last year.
Goal: A good goalie can make all the difference. Unfortunately the closest I have to a good goalie is Robert Esche (Philadelphia). I'm going to have to do some homework on the backups, because I don't know anything about either of them. Other than that they aren't named Nabokov or Hasek or Joseph or Kolzig or...
Interestingly, Doig is the only member of the Caps on my team, and I have zero Sharks. It looks like I have more Phoenix Coyotes than anything else, so maybe some Gretsky magic will rub off on the team.
I won't obsess about this, but I'll occasionally mention when I accidentally do something right or something comically stupid. Advice gladly accepted.
Over at Everyday Stranger (welcome to Munuviana!), H waxes philosophically about foreskin.
The muse wanders in...
Did you hear about the new wallet made of elephant foreskin?
Rub it a little and it turns into a garment bag.
...how about...
A Texas cowboy is drinking in a New York bar when he gets a call on his cell phone. He hangs up, grinning from ear to ear, and orders a round of drinks for everybody in the bar because, he announces, his wife has just produced a typical Texas baby boy weighing 25 pounds.
Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the cowboy just shrugs, "That's about average down home, folks... like I said, my boy's a typical Texas baby boy".
Congratulations showered him from all around, and many exclamations of "WOW"! were heard. One woman actually fainted due to sympathy pains. Two weeks later he returns to the bar. The bartender says, "Say, you're the father of that typical Texas baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren't you? Everybody's been makin' bets about how big he'd be in two weeks. We were gonna call you; so how much does he weigh now?"
The proud father answers, "Seventeen pounds." The bartender is puzzled, and concerned. "What happened? He already weighed 25 pounds the day he was born."
The cowboy takes a slow swig from his long-neck beer, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, leans into the bartender and proudly says, "Had him circumcised".
...the muse wanders out, where a crowd of people await to administer a vicious beating.
The hombre over at Sanity's Edge is a Dallas Cowboys fan. This means that he cheers for scissors-stabbing, dope-smuggling, cattle-molesting criminals who wear silver and blue instead of orange jumpsuits.
South America's Team. "Why yes officer, this two hundred pounds of pot is for my personal consumption."
And he called me delusional. Hah! As (in your words) a blaspheming non-believer, let me do a careful and detailed analysis on your beloved Dallas Cowboys and their play so far this season.
Let's start with an overview. First off, the Dallas Cowboys suck.
The hell with detailed analysis. The above says it all. Don't push me Paul, I'm a Raiders fan.
What are they smoking? For the second week in a row, we get the Dallas Cowboys on national TV. They're not a very good team, and these games aren't really important to the leagues playoff picture. The only thing I can think of is that it's the "Parcell's Factor". I don't like the Cowboys, I don't like Parcells, and as we've beeen repeatedly reminded, it takes his teams three years to get good, yet this is only his first season as coach.
It's been really sad this year. Bears vs Packers. Ok, you expect the Pack to be reasonably decent, but nobody thought the Bears were going to be any good. Just because it's a rivalry doesn't mean anyone who isn't a fan of those two teams wants to watch the carnage. Or comedy. Like I said: sad.
Why not Raiders vs Lions? There's an epic for you. I'm a Raiders fanatic, but unless they pull their collective heads out it's going to be a long and painful season for me.
Maybe I'll just do yardwork today. :D
LMAO, courtesy of Silent Running.
I needed that. Damn Giants.
Shamelessly stealing from Wizbang!, and running with scissors his idea, here's an Octoberiffic edition of Caption that Photo.
Enter your caption in the comments below, and the winner will get a special prize. Bill has agreed to whisper into the winner's ear that Carly Simon wrote You're So Vain about himself.
Apologies to those on dial-up, because the photo is a rather biggish.
"and I'm sure the fat guy'd win, woooh." At least according to Ian Anderson.
Don tells of his favorite bumper sticker, which reminds me of a joke.
A severely overweight big-game hunter hires a skinny little guide to take him into the mountains.
Deep in the mountains, the hunter takes a fall and breaks his leg. While doing first aid, the guide listens to the hunter bitch and moan about his bad luck and how he's going to die there.
Finally the guide has heard enough. "Listen," he says, "last year I shot a 400 pound bear in these mountains and I got it down just fine, so shut up!"
The hunter is impressed and asks the guide how he managed such a feat.
"Four trips," said the guide.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Marvin the interrupting cow.
Marvin the inter-
Gimme a dollar.
Bill has been telling drunken fool stories which prove once again that he's crude and crass and falling-down funny all at the same time. Meanwhile John has taught us a new word that means 'fear of turning into a pumpkin' - apocolocynposis.
Not since "Virtual Jennifer: Skin or Other" has the synergist in me emerged so strongly.
This is why we should all fear Bill becoming a pumpkin.
Sniper suspect Lee Malvo took the stand yesterday and invoked his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent.
Afterwards, his defense attorney held a news conference and said that it would be unethical for prosecutors to call Malvo to the stand in front of a jury knowing that he would plead the fifth.
I'm not a lawyer, I don't even play one on TV, but how the hell would that be unethical? At worst, it should be a null action, neither good nor bad. Realistically, it would probably be looked at negatively by a jury, although it could be argued that the jury might look at it as picking on the 'poor' child.
Unethical? I don't think so.
Today is the one-year anniversary of the first death from the D.C. snipers. These two are guilty and everyone knows it. I'm glad to see the system working, and the defense fighting as hard as they can for their clients. It's not going to help though. I hope they fry.
Rush Limbaugh today slammed Arianna Huffington for dropping out of the race for California governor.
"I don't think she's been that good from the get-go," Limbaugh said. "I think what we've had here is a little social concern, and the media has been very desirous that a woman do well. There was a little hope invested in Huffington, and it's proved to have been misplaced."
When later asked about his remarks, Limbaugh further described Huffington as a "shrill, overbearing, know-nothing blowhard with nothing substantial to contribute". He also added that this revelation came to him that morning while looking in the mirror as he shaved.
Okey-dokey. I'm in a debate on another blog, and I made the following statement (quoting myself):
The government has the right to nothing not specifically allowed by the constitution. The vast majority of constitutions allow the citizenry rights, the US Constitution allows the government rights. Big difference. Critical distinction.
One person tells me that I have it 'precisely wrong' and that 'reality is the exact opposite'.
Am I brain dead? Did I state it as badly as that? Looking at it, I think maybe I did. What I didn't expressly say - but meant - was that most constitutions assume that the State has supreme power, whereas the US Constitution assumes that that people have supreme power.
Go on. Fling stuff at me. Spears and arrows of derision, or support and encouragement. Suggestions for getting this point across better than I have. Cash. Whatever.
Update: Agreement was reached after adding that one clarifying statement about supreme power. It's good to not be stupid, accidentally or otherwise. Thanks for the input.
The Giants will take it all this year. If you don't agree, too damn bad.
The Orioles fired manager Mike Hargrove today after four losing seasons and are going to talk to Hall of Famer Eddie Murray about taking the job. I'd love to see Murray as manager, but it's not going to help. The Orioles will continue to suck as long as Peter Angelos is the owner.
Fairfax county Virginia is having some problems. There's some super-peeping tom running around that the police can't catch, and tonight on the news there was a report about a perv who hangs around the bus stops in the early morning and exposes himself to high-school girls.
We have a national registry for this kind of crap. We're not using it to it's full potential.
Peeping Tom, meet Joe Exposure. Problem solved.
LeeAnn talks about a couple of commercials she's seen on TV, and it reminded me of my recent favorite.
The guy standing on the beach, putting notes in beer bottles and tossing them into the ocean. If you watch sports, you've probably seen it. Cracks me up every time.
"Nice to meet'cha!"
Last night on the evening news, I watched a story about a homeless guy. It was presented as one of those "it could happen to you" scenarios where the successful professional is reduced to poverty. Implied was the fact that it was our economy at the root of his troubles.
Well, not quite. As the tale was told, it became apparent that someone was spinning this story as hard as they could. I'm going to tell you the story, without the editing and innuendo and camera work designed to elicit emotional response.
This homeless guy is a freelance writer. He's an older man, and a few years ago his business started to fall off. His solution at the time was to give up his apartment in Los Angeles (I want to say Laguna Beach, but I'm not positive), and spend the summer living at local camp grounds. His truck is full of camping equipment.
He's still not getting the amount of work he used to, so he's still living out of his truck. He has a cell phone. He uses public library computers to do his writing. He's not hungry, in fact in one shot they show a couple of cardboard boxes full of food in his truck. We're told that we should feel sorry for him because he doesn't have health care insurance, and that his ex-wife and kids don't want to see him because they're embarrassed about him being homeless.
This bugs me in so many ways. First of all, this man gave up his home voluntarily, he made a conscious decision to move out to reduce expenses. Second, he hasn't tried to get another job (as far as the story was told), he's just plugging away at the same job he had. Granted, the job market isn't the best, but an experienced writer can get work. While I admire his determination to work on his terms, don't paint him as some kind of victim when he doesn't succeed. Third, a lot of people don't have health care. I'm a lot more sympathetic to children or folks who were put out of work by factory closings than I am by him. How much does that cell phone cost every month? Add that to whatever he'd earn working part time at McDonalds and see if maybe that just wouldn't cover it, if it's that important to him. I don't think it is, I think we were supposed to think "universal health care would be a good thing" instead.
This guy isn't tragic. He's not a victim. He's made choices with consequences. Nothing was shown that would keep him from making changes in his life if he wanted to. We used to admire people like him because of their integrity, their refusal to change to meet society's standards. But in today's world, since he doesn't fit the "norm" as defined by whoever crafted this story, he's held up as an example of failure.
I intentionally used the word "crafted" about this story, because it was obviously slanted to lead viewers towards certain conclusions. I just hope it bothered more people than just me when they watched it.
Since when did teetering on the brink of Darwin Award immortality qualify as sport?
The other day I saw a picture in the paper in which a horse was jumping over a barracade. It was a nice photo, a head-on view that captured the grace and power of the horse as he completed his jump. Completely ruining the majesty of the picture was the idiot on roller blades behind the horse, hanging on to a towrope, midway through the same jump.
Huh?
I’ve seen two events that epitomize the stupidity. I can’t even bring myself to call them sport. Yes, they both require skill and physical effort and possibly even talent, but so does rock climbing.
One event consists of two guys jumping out of an airplane. During the freefall period, one guy does all kinds of acrobatics with a boogie board strapped to his feet. He’s literally surfing the sky. The second member of the team has a video camera strapped to his head, and his job is to film the first guy. Their score is the combined totals of not only the acrobatics, but the quality of the camera work. How well in-frame did he stay? Interesting angles?
Calling this a sport is stretching it. To be truly extreme, forget the parachutes and let’s see how dedicated you are to your ‘sport’.
The second ‘sport’ is a classic example of piling on. Add complexity beyond all reason and common sense, for no reason other than to be more extreme. The first time I saw this event, they led in with a montage of guys on motorcycles, doing tricks and leg kicks and stuff while in mid-air after jumping off a ramp. Ok, this is a step up from Evel Knievel, whose daredevil stuff I don’t consider a sport either.
But we’re piling on, remember? This event is a winter sport. These fools are screaming down this chute on a motorcycle with spiked tires and up a ramp covered with ice! The landing area is ice too. And the simple leg kicks and such are so last year. These guys are pulling out all the stops and doing back flips on their motorcycles, and one dude brought the crowd to their feet by getting off his bike in mid-air and letting go of the handlebars. This guy actually flew alongside his bike for a couple of seconds before getting back on in time to land. On ice.
I mentioned talent. Apparently a complete lack of common sense qualifies.
In the last year, a major extreme skateboarder – supposedly a professional – died of massive injuries when he fell multiple stories from a hotel fire escape. He was riding the handrails down on his board.
Two world-class mountaineers died when they decided to be the first to ski down a mountain from the summit. The peak was mostly ice, and the last time one was seen he was on his back, sliding out of control. The other managed to accidentally snag the rope of a group of ascending climbers, and almost killed most of them as well as himself.
Even television commercials are appearing that make fun of the excesses of extreme sports. This after a long run of commercials showing us how cool it was to be extreme. I’m sick of the word ‘extreme’.
I'm looking for investors for my new NASCAR towed-luge league. Any adrenalin junkies out there? This could be the next big thing.
Update: Forget luge, check out Extreme Ironing, the "latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt."
From this story about deporting illegal aliens caught on the U.S. side of the border with Mexico.
The Mexican government has protested the U.S. practice of handcuffing migrants with a chain that wraps around their waists during the airplane ride.
"If they have to deport us, they shouldn't treat us like criminals," said Martin Romero, 38, a field worker from Durango. "It's humiliating. We're just working people."
No, you're breaking the law. That makes you a criminal. And what is this 'migrants' crap? More political correctness, because we wouldn't want to hurt the criminals feelings now, would we.
While one of the biggest complaints is the dislocation caused by the long-distance deportations, the Mexican government rejected a U.S. offer to deport undocumented migrants back to their hometowns, at the U.S. government's expense.
Mexican Assistant Foreign Secretary Enrique Berruga said a previous program that deported migrants home in the mid-1990s was abandoned because Mexicans objected to being flown home.
Probably because if we just dump them back across the border then they can hook up with the next smuggler and try again. And keep trying until they make it successfully.
Dead of a heart attack at age 54. This sucks.
U.S. District Judge Lee R. West's telephone has not stopped ringing since he sided with telemarketers seeking to block a popular national do-not-call list.
"They are just calling to tie up our lines," said Rick Wade, operations manager at the district clerk's office. "They just keep calling to harass us, like the telemarketers harass them, I guess."
Ya think?
I was in a rotten mood driving in this morning, helped along by heavy traffic and people who don’t know how to drive in it. Add in the fact that I woke up not a multi-millionaire and actually having to work for a living, and the day was off to a less-than-spectacular start. So while I was in the ol’ stop-and-go, I was thinking about a few things.
Mac’s vs. PC’s. This reminds me of the whole democrat/republican debate, and my favorite quote about same. I’ll paraphrase:
I’ve got news for you Mac people, PC’s are better. The market says so. Like it or not, Bill Gates is a better businessman than clan Apple, and his products are more useful to computer users. If it wasn’t true, we’d talk about Microsoft in the same way we talk about Commodore and Atari and Tandy. So grow up, enjoy the things that Macs do well and quitcher bitching.
I couldn’t think of a religion that doesn’t have ‘spread the word’ as a basic foundation. This makes sense, because what good is a religion (or any other social movement for that matter) which doesn’t attempt to grow? It’s also depressing, because this also means a continuation of religious-based strife. If everybody believes they’re right, then the only solution is elimination of the other guy. As for religious tolerance, the only time it happens it when it’s forced upon them, and it’s seldom comfortable for either side.
SUV’s should be taxed like trucks. If you’re driving a 19-passenger land yacht, it’s a truck, not a car. If you’re driving a do-nothing SUV-wannabe, then you’re stupid and should be taxed for being an idiot (we’ll just call it a truck tax). What to do with the extra revenue? Research into battery technology, because like it or not, that’s where the next big energy breakthrough is gonna happen. Notice I’m not saying that SUV’s should be taken off the road. Free choice is still free choice, but 90% of the folks driving SUV’s don’t need them, which proves that they’re stupid, and should be taxed.
Hell, call it the SUV lottery. Most of ‘em will line up to buy extra tickets.
Update: I was reminded of the judge who put the hold on the Do-Not-Call list. We've instituted a new policy in our house. Listen politely to determine source of the call, because we're nice to police, fire department, and veterans organizations doing fundraising. Anyone else, we get loud and verbally abusive. Screw it, they called me, so they must want to hear me, right? Oh yeah, they're gonna hear it all right...
She's like a houseguest that just won't leave.
According to radio reports, almost 200,000 people still are without power in Virginia. Flooding continues, closing major commuter routes, and one of the mass transit lines is shut down because of an enormous 20 foot deep sinkhole.
The massive amount of rain we got night before last (about 2" for us, some areas got up to 6") caused a little flooding in my basement. We handled it easily, because it happens almost every time we get significant rain.
The morning commute has been a bear the last couple of days, but I'm counting my blessings because I didn't have to deal with the mess yesterday. They had to close a 6-lane drawbridge for emergency repairs, but that was north of me, and I live south. Whew!
Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.
Spring has sprung,
Fall has fell,
It's the end of September,
And wetter than usual.
with apologies to Nipsy Russell.
Nic posted her favorite joke. Hey Victor, how can you not love that? That's funny!
Since it's apparently going around, I'll toss in my contribution.
What's green and sits in your backyard?
Paddy O'Furniture.
I'm not a fair-weather fan, but last night my beloved Oakland Raiders looked like an old team a year past their prime. They're going to win some games, and possibly even make the playoffs, but it's going to be a roller-coaster ride this year.
1. Dogs are never permitted in the house. The dog stays outside in a specially built wooden compartment named, for a very good reason, the dog house.
2. Okay, the dog can enter the house, but only for short visits or if his own house is under renovation.
3. Okay, the dog can stay in the house on a permanent basis, provided his dog house can be sold in a yard sale to a rookie dog owner.
4. Inside the house, the dog is not allowed to run free and is confined to a comfortable but secure metal cage.
5. Okay, the cage becomes part of a two-for-one deal along with the dog house in the yard sale, and the dog can go wherever the heck he pleases.
6. The dog is never allowed on the furniture.
7. Okay, the dog can get on the old furniture but not the new furniture.
8. Okay, the dog can get up on the new furniture until it looks like the old furniture and then we'll sell the whole darn works and buy new furniture... upon which the dog will most definitely not be allowed.
9. The dog never sleeps on the bed. Period.
10. Okay, the dog can sleep at the foot of the bed.
11. Okay, the dog can sleep alongside you, but he's not allowed under the covers.
12. Okay, the dog can sleep under the covers, but not with his head on a pillow.
13. Okay, the dog can sleep alongside you under the covers with his head on the pillow, but if he snores he's got to leave the room.
14. Okay, the dog can sleep and snore and have nightmares in bed, but he's not to come in and sleep on the couch in the TV room, where I'm now sleeping. That's just not fair.
15. The dog never gets listed on the census questionnaire as "primary resident", even if it's true.
A neighbor called this evening, letting us know that some friend of hers had called and said our water wasn't safe after the storm. It was during dinner, so my wife said she'd look for some info on the internet and let her know what was up.
Turns out that certain areas of our county get their water from Fairfax county, where they lost power at the water treatment plants. The notice warning us about the potential for unsafe water was buried on the county website. They tried real hard to spread the word. (sarcasm:off)
We're ok, because the morning of the storm we filled the dogs water with fresh, and we stockpiled quite a bit of water for drinking and cooking. Since it was there, that's what we've been using instead of tapwater. No real reason, just because.
If my neighbors turn into zombies from drinking mutant water, do I have to actually let them enter the house before I shoot them in the head?
Taking a break... Mookie and mom went to work today, so I'm handling the cleanup by myself. It's not that bad. I just finished raking the backyard of all the sticks and leaves, and then swept the patio and walks. Now all that's left is putting things back where they belong, like flower pots and bird feeders. Found quite a few frogs, and managed to steer two into the raised flower bed before the dogs discovered them. It's fun watching the dogs find little creatures, because they've never hurt one yet, but man do they act fierce. And once the beastie gets away through the fence, then they come over for lovin' since I owe them my life. Funny as hell.
Seriously though, Sam our oldest dog (Skye terrier), will place himself between anything like that and my wife, and will not let it pass. He's getting up there in age, but acts like a youngster again when it comes to protecting the wife. He's a damn good dog.
We may have a casualty from the storm. Last night I went to run a load of laundry, and I think I may have damaged the water pump on the washer. For some reason, our water pressure in the neighborhood was low, and I'm guessing that the water pump had to work extra hard trying to do it's job. Now the washer is dripping water (into the tub) which isn't a good sign. The washer we have now is probably five or six years old, but the one before that was 'the washer that would not die', so we were terribly spoiled. I'll be annoyed, but not surprised if we have to get a new one in the near future.
Working outside for an hour, and I'm bushed. This last week took more out of me than I realized. Oh well. Back to it! Get these plants out and watered before Mr. Sun reaches their spot.
Everyone has 'hot' words that just make them cringe when used. I'm not talking about racially charged words or swear words. Just the everyday words that really bug them.
For example, I used to go bananas when my kids said they hated someone. For me, 'hate' isn't a word a child should be using against someone else. It was kind of hammered home one day when a group of kids, including mine, came up and announced that (talking about another kid) "they hated that idiot". Two parents immediated got involved, me and another dad, but while I was talking to mine about 'hating', he was chewing his kids out for the word 'idiot'. He couldn't stand the word. Drove him up a wall.
Later we were talking and I mentioned it. He thought I was kind of naive for the 'hate' thing and I tried to explain it wasn't just the word itself, it was the word applied to someone else for no reason other than you're mad at them at that moment. I asked him how he managed without the word idiot since there were so many of them around, and he cracked me up when he said the word asshole was a pretty decent substitute.
What makes you cringe when a child speaks? What words set you off no matter who says them?
(warning: full-on snark post follows)
Frnak Ethel wrote: "Since piracy really ended centuries ago, my main concern when encountering pirates would be how to get back to my own time."
I know it was a joke about pirates. He needed to say it as the setup to the punch line. But it struck me totally wrong, mainly in that Rush Limbaugh ‘any statement I pull out of my butt instantly becomes a fact’ kinda way.
Pirates are not just from hundreds of years ago. Not only does piracy still happen, but today’s pirates are infinitely more ruthless and bloodthirsty than our romantic image of them. Usually, a meeting with a modern pirate happens only once, because they automatically kill the crews of the ships they hijack. On rare occasions the passengers or crew (judged worth the trouble) may be sold to other groups interested in ransoming hostages. It’s an ongoing problem, and it’s serious in parts of the world.
I usually don't pay much attention to the entertainment world, but this one struck a nerve.
Spike Lee, whose movies often have a political edge, says Americans need to think more about important issues and lay off the fluff.
Like suing because you think your first name is a trademark?
Fucking idiot.
Before I try to get to sleep.
I saw Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring today for the first time. I've been holding off because I wanted to see them all at one time. Damn, it was goooood.
I also saw Fast and the Furious this week for the first time. A lot better than I expected.
The federal government in Washington DC announced it would be closed tomorrow. This kinda sucks because my policy is that if I take a day off, it's my leave. If Uncle Sam takes a day, I charge them 8 hours regular time (like for blizzards, etc). I've already let everyone know that I was taking the rest of this week off sick, dammit.
My wife has to work until noon tomorrow. Dammit.
We have a parking spot right in front of our townhouse that we usually use. My new neighbor is a nitwit, and has been bitching about us monopolizing that space. Tonight it was open so he gleefully pulled in and made a big deal about getting 'our' space. When it rains hard tomorrow, that space will flood, probably high enough to flood the inside of his POS. Dumbass. I made sure there are fresh batteries in the cameras, because I want to take pictures of him trying to save his raft.
Goodnight.
Wizbang photo caption contest. I'm doing the happy dance (film at 11).
Yep, I've not been posting like I normally do. You may remember that on friday last I mentioned coming down with a cold, and the sinus pressure being so bad that my teeth hurt. Well, it wasn't sinus pressure. I went to the dentist this morning on an emergency basis, it turns out that I've got a cracked molar and it got infected. The whole side of my face is swollen. So I've been prowling around like a grouchy bear, sleeping 20 minutes at a time and eating nothing but the occasional bowl of soup. This morning the dentist couldn't even extract the broken tooth because the swelling is so severe, so I'm on antibiotics and hopefully (Isabel willing) I can have it taken out friday afternoon.
On the plus side, my wife has taken very good care of me during all of this, and this new dentist I went to today is a real cutie. My old dentist sold his practice and moved to Florida - rat bastard.
On the down side, according to all the weather reports, when you see the projected path of Isabel, the 'most likely' line passes right over my area. It's still a few days out, but we've already started doing a few little things like making sure all the flashlights have batteries and filling the BBQ propane tank.
So that's what's been happening in my world. I'm back and getting better, but don't ask me about it in person, because I'm still a day or two away from actually being able to speak. I've been told though that it's real entertaining watching me try.
We've all heard about it, now we can finally see it for ourselves, laid out in black and white. From a column in the San Francisco Chronicle, via IndecisionGirl.
Homosexual Agenda
6 a.m. Gym.
8 a.m. Breakfast (oatmeal and egg whites).
9 a.m. Hair appointment.
10 a.m. Shopping (preferably at Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom).
11 a.m. Brunch.
2 p.m. Assume complete control of the federal, state and local governments.
Destroy Christian marriage. Replace all school counselors in grades K-12
with militant recruiters for the homosexual lifestyle. Bulldoze all houses
of worship or redecorate them as discos. Secure total control of the
Internet and all mass media. Be utterly fabulous!
2:30 p.m. Get 40 winks of beauty rest to prevent facial wrinkles from the
stress of world conquest; aromatherapy.
4 p.m. Cocktails.
6 p.m. Light dinner (soup, salad [arugula with balsamic vinegar dressing],
Chardonnay).
8 p.m. Theater.
10:30 p.m. Cocktails in a charming neighborhood bistro.
Midnight. Bed (du jour).
There it is. Decide for yourself.
Ok, I got it from my wife, who got it from Mookie. As Rachel Lucas would say, Mookie is double-plus ungood. She'd also say that Mookie is no longer my precioussssss. I'm ornery, so I say Mookie is out of the will. This basically means that she won't have to pick up her share of the funeral expenses, because I plan to die broke but happy. I'm well on my way to achieving my goal.
Between the weather front sitting over the top of the area, and my stuffed up head, the sinus pressure is making my teeth hurt, and every time I blow my nose it feels like my eyeballs are going to pop out of my skull. If that happens, I promise pictures.
Don't forget to leave your word entries for the Google game. Susie has suggested a great name, but it's not final yet, so everything will be considered.
Update: despite the vicious attack on my character by Susie, I've linked her now and can only apologize for forgetting to do so in my medicine-fogged state.
The Washington Post has an interesting article about blogs.
One theory tossed around at the New Media Society event Tuesday night was that e-mail marketing is dead and business blogs are rising up as the replacement. While the medium may not be in its grave yet, powerful spam filters that block out corporate e-mails have certainly limited its effectiveness. But some proponents of blogging say the new business-development tool can succeed in ways e-mail never could.
"I don't think e-mail is dead. I don't think it's any more difficult than it was two years ago; I just don't think it was ever that effective."
Spam is spam. At least if you blog spam, I can avoid it. The article is full of good information, you should go check it out.
Mookie rearranged the kitchen drawers a while back, and her 'system' reminds me of Radar's on M*A*S*H - "That goes under 'D' for 'doesn't explode'". We have one drawer with spatula's and other wide scrapey things. Like the pizza cutter. And the bread knife. After using it, I have to admit that her system works rather well.
File this one under ‘Delusional’. I heard someone on the radio actually say that Washington Redskin running backs Ledell Betts and Trung Canidate would be the next "Csonka and Kiick". That idiot needs therapy or a urinalysis test, pronto.
In the ‘Globalization Bastards’ department, Krispy Kreme donuts has announced plans to open outlets in Wal-Mart stores. It’s typical of big business to ignore the harm that their practices cause to children. I mean, what are those annoying little kids going to do now for fundraisers?
Our weekend weather forcast has completely gone to hell thanks to the remnants of tropical storm Henri. With a name like that, are we surprised by how this turned out? He just kept hanging around doing nothing much at all. Then, ignored and irrelevant, he decides to screw things up for everyone. Someone at the National Weather Service should lose their job over this, because if they'd have just named it Hank, he'd have shown up, done his thing, and been outta here.
Here’s something else that’s been bothering me. Why do anarchists have a logo? Doesn't that kinda go against the premise?
Someone who finds commonality between unrelated concepts is called a 'synergist', right? For instance, puppies are full of energy, and we buy energy drinks, so Glenn is a synergist for recognizing the potential of combining the two.
Likewise, I am a synergist for combining the idea of the World Mind Map with Bill's demand for cheesecake from Jennifer.
I feel so smart. Unless that's not the right term, in which case you can just mentally replace every 'synergist' with the correct word in what I wrote above. Then you can feel smart.
And if you really want to feel smart, read about this guy. Unless you already will.
How to Shower Like a Woman
1. Take off clothing and place it in sectioned laundry hamper according to lights and darks.
2. Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown. If you see husband along the way,cover up any exposed areas.
3. Look at your womanly physique in the mirror - make mental note to do more sit-ups.
4. Get in the shower. Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah, wide loofah, and pumice stone.
5. Wash your hair once with cucumber and sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins.
6. Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.
7. Condition your hair with grapefruit mint conditioner enhanced with natural avocado oil. Leave on hair for 15 minutes.
8. Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes until red.
9. Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.
10. Rinse conditioner off hair.
11. Shave armpits and legs
12. Turn off shower
13. Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower. Spray mold spots with Tilex.
14. Get out of shower. Dry with towel the size of a small country. Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.
15. Check entire body for zits, tweeze hairs.
16. Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.
17. If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
How To Shower Like a Man
1. Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile.
2. Walk naked to the bathroom. If you see wife along the way, shake wiener at her making the 'woo-woo' sound.
3. Look at your manly physique in the mirror. Admire the size of your wiener and scratch your ass.
4. Get in the shower.
5. Wash your face
6. Wash your armpits
7. Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse them off.
8. Make fart noises (real or artificial) and laugh at how loud they sound in the shower.
9. Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.
10. Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs stuck on the soap.
11. Shampoo your hair.
12. Make a Shampoo Mohawk.
13. Pee.
14. Rinse off and get out of shower.
15. Partially dry off. Fail to notice water on floor because curtain was hanging out of tub the whole time.
16. Admire wiener size in mirror again.
17. Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.
18. Return to bedroom with towel around your waist. If you pass wife, pull off towel, shake wiener at her and make the 'woo-woo' sound again.
19. Throw wet towel on floor
There you have it. Guys take more steps to take a shower. It is therefore the superior method.
“Men are pigs. Too bad we own everything.” – Tim Allen
Update: Oldest daughter Robyn loves all things Tinkerbell. Hey sweetie, go check out Flitting Here & There - the adventures of one called 'Tink'. (hint to the guys: undo the top couple buttons of your shirt first.)
Ever have one of those moments where it all comes together?
Bill has a longstanding demand that Jen send him pictures of her chest.
Meanwhile, Daniel points out an interesting project "where people vote on whether a pixel of a map of the world will be land or water". It's called the Mind World Map. Pretty cool, eh?
My new project is the Virtual Jennifer Map. I'll need everyone to vote, pixel at a time, on whether that bit of Jen is skin or clothed. I'm really excited about this, so I hope to see some real enthusiasm from you too.
Update: Comment from Jennifer: "Seriously, though, when do we start?"
You heard the lady. Pixel 0,0. Skin or Other?
"Are you headed to junior high schools to round up the usual suspects?" -- Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) to RIAA President Cary Sherman during a Senate Judiciary hearing.
Gas prices have dropped nine cents in two days around here.
My wife is in the throes of a full-blown summer cold and she’s miserable. Mookie is fighting hard but if it takes her down too, she’ll go down swinging. My standard reaction in situations like this is to consume enough OJ to make Anita Bryant consider adoption. Family kissing has been suspended, but hugs are still freely and frequently exchanged.
A co-worker passed away last month, and they’re just now getting around to replacing him. It makes me wonder if they thought he was on vacation.
Do you like my modified NASA ‘meatball’ logo? Mookie helped me do that using her Paint Shop Pro expertise. She smirked and mentioned senility, so I thanked her, then told her to shut up and go clean her room. If she keeps it up, she’s kissing mom.
I heard about the “9/11 Digital Archive” this morning on the way to work. This is a worthy effort and worth looking at. Thanks to WTOP news radio for the tip.
Starhawk of Freedom Lives has been posting a series of pictures from the site of the World Trade Center. I hope you’ve been keeping up with them. If not, it’s my fault because I’ve been remiss in not linking to them more.
Stevie (aka Daun) of Caught in the Xfire has a hat for me! And she’s becoming a Munuvian. Yes sweetie, I am glad to see you, and yes, that is a turkey baster in my pocket.
My Links Roster page is a mess. Consider it a bastion of anarchy in my otherwise orderly corner of the ‘sphere. But the links (mostly probably) do work, and as Johnny Cochran would say “If the links are fine, you must not whine!” Anyways, over there are new places to go and people to see, including Terra Taco, Black Five – the Paratrooper of Love, Tasberry Diary, Dues Ex Culina, Laughing Wolf, Q & O, Coyote's Bark, Classical Values, and Jocularocracy. The blogroll in the right column is evolving and shrinking slowly, use the Links Roster to see what kind of stuff I really read when you’re not looking.
* ‘Ripple Fire’ is a mode whereas multiple military rockets are launched at a target in rapid sequence. It’s similar to machine-gun fire, but with big booms at the receiving end.
A California drivers license should no longer be considered valid ID outside of the state.
Takeo Spikes will be the NFL defensive player of the year. Now that he's in Buffalo in the middle of a real defense he won't have to do everything himself, which frees him up to be truly dominating.
This will also be Jerry Porter's breakout season. You can't ignore Rice and Brown, and this will be Porter's year to shine.
Yo Glenn, do you agree? For all you sports fans, you should be checking out Sports Blog if you don't already.
PS. During the singing of the National Anthem at the Oakland Raiders game, they had a bald eagle flying around the field. I saw a special about this particular bird. They found him as a youngster, and he's been trained to fly from one handler way up in the stands to another handler on the field. He's a showoff too, doing long lazy soaring circles as he flys and really getting the crowd pumped up. It's a beautiful thing to see.
A blonde pushes her BMW into a gas station. She tells the mechanic it died. After he works on it for a few minutes, it is idling smoothly.
She says, "What's the story?"
He replies, "Just crap in the carburetor."
She asks, "How often do I have to do that ?
Jennifer is celebrating like it’s 1974, with lots of fun facts and historical stuff, because her birthday is coming up.
Bill of Bloviating Inanities just recently had a birthday, so I thought I’d borrow Jen’s concept and do the same thing for him. Instead of a walker or Grecian Formula for Men or Geritol, I present to you, my friend:
Born in the mists of antiquity, no one is really sure exactly when he arrived. Probably sometime after the Big Bang, since Bill has a strange fascination with Stephen Hawking.
(By the way, the authorities have asked that you do not contact Professor Hawking with questions from or about Bill. Something about a restraining order.)
There is a persistant rumor that he was found and raised by a circus family, but they vehemently deny it (don’t bother asking either; another restraining order).
This is believed to be the earliest home movie with little Billy in them.
There are no existing pictures of Bill actually attending school, which lends credence to the claim that he’s unteachable. An extensive check of school records turns up no direct references, but anecdotal evidence doesn’t rule out his attendance either.
Once past school age, Bill met the lady of his dreams, and after weeks of begging sweeping her off of her feet, she agreed to go out on a date with him. The rest, as they say, was magic.
But the good times soon passed. Unlike this Bill, our Bill has done nothing of note beyond being mentioned in numerous police blotters. But it wasn’t for lack of effort!
He's tried his hand at various artistic pursuits, including writing, sculpture, architecture, and even fashion design. To be honest, the world just doesn’t get Bill.
Still, he toils on, misunderstood and defiantly disgusting. Part of his charm problem seems to be that he suffers an abnormal number of odd medical problems (too many to link, just go through his archives).
It's not that easy bein' green.
- - Kermit the Frog, referring to Bill’s gouty toe
Here’s what Bill has to say about himself:
“People hate me because I am a multifaceted, talented, wealthy, internationally famous genius.”
Oh wait. That was Jerry Lewis. Sorry, I get them confused.
Welcome to the newest Munuvian, LeeAnn of The Cheese Stands Alone. You'll find her link with my fellow Munuvians under 'Link Roster' over on the right. This is just a guess, but I think she's probably solidly in the camp of The Axis of Evil Naughty.
LeeAnn, when you blogroll moi, you'll need a new category. I suggest 'mouldy bleu'.
And since I mentioned it, the Link Roster is in serious disarray. I'm working on it, ok?
Also on the right, there is a new tagline up, and whattayaknow? Another new category called (ta-dahhhh) 'Tagline Archive'. Boy howdy, things are getting so much easier as I get away from Blog*spot and Geocities.
I'm still slowly but surely moving most of my archived stuff over to Mu.Nu. Emphasis on the 'slowly'.
All the cool people have birthdays in September. You don't? Well, we know why.
Kate at Electric Venom reports that Sting comes clean about his claims of 8-hour sessions of tantric sex.
"I think I mentioned to Bob I could make love for eight hours. What I didn't say was that this included four hours of begging and then dinner and a movie."
And you ladies claim we don't spend enough time on foreplay.
Johnny Depp was quoted in a Stern magazine interview as making some despicable remarks about America. Many people have already taken him to task for the things he said.
Now he's released a statement about the quotes, claiming that they were taken out of context. His statement says all the right things.
"I am an American. I love my country and have great hopes for it," Depp said in a statement released by his Los Angeles-based publicist. "It is for this reason that I speak candidly and sometimes critically about it. I have benefited greatly from the freedom that exists in my country and for this I am eternally grateful."
and...
Explaining his comments a day later, Depp he had been using a metaphor that was taken "radically out of context," adding, "There was no anti-American sentiment."
"What I was saying was that, compared to Europe, America is a very young country and we are still growing as a nation," he said. "My deepest apologies to those who were offended, affected, or hurt by this insanely twisted deformation of my words and intent."
In this case, I'm tending to give him the benefit of the doubt. I understand that he's said some stupid things in the past (understatement), but in this case, it seems that everyone is willing to believe that the German media reported his remarks accurately. I can easily believe that they did a little selective reporting and editing to make this look exactly the way they wanted.
Country music lends itself to ‘storytelling’ songs, and today I heard one that verged on sickly-sweet. In it a child asked daddy about heaven, and one line in particular stood out. It went something like:
Ick. I can’t help but think that rain-detail would be the heavenly equivalent of jury-duty.
A good friend of mine took his family to DisneyWorld, and they had a great time. Among his stories about their vacation, this little bit of insight really stuck with me:
I amused myself by attempting to calculate something I call the Disney Critical Number: the maximum number of steps between two opportunities to buy something. The biggest DCN I got was 48, in the MetLife pavilion. My stride is a little under 3 feet.
Let the kids enjoy it, and you can marvel at it for what it is: an amazingly efficient machine designed to separate you from your money. Every place where there's a chair, someone has calculated the average amount of time you'll spend sitting on it. Everything you see, they know how long you'll look at it and what you're likely to do next. It is social engineering on a grand scale, and can be appreciated as such.
I think it's terrible that the bomb killed so many, including this cleric. But I also find it encouraging that everyone seems to be looking at this as what it was - a terrorist attack attempting to destabilize Iraq. The Iraqi population is being alienated by al-Qaida and Saddam's loyalists, which can only help us in the long run as the terrorists find fewer willing to help or hide them.
In response to the bombing, a highly respected Shiite cleric suspended his membership in the U.S.-chosen Iraqi interim Governing Council, citing a lack of security.
Mohammed Bahr al-Uloum, in exile in London until Saddam's ouster, said Saturday that his return to the council depended on the U.S.-led coalition's handing security matters to Iraqis, so that Muslim shrines could be under Islamic protection.
He's absolutely right about this too. We're training an Iraqi militia and police force, who need to take over security of the holy sites. The problem is already recognized and being addressed, it just takes time.
After this terrible incident, thousands of pissed off Iraqi citizens march and complain that the US isn't providing enough security. We're not hearing about the US being anti-Islam, nor are the Iraquis saying the US should pull out and go home. They are behaving exactly like citizens in the US do, they complain about the lack of police protection. I don't care what anyone says, we are winning in Iraq.
I'm not one for polls and following trends, but I got curious. Sue me.
I'm happy.
Taking a break while the last floor dries. Mookie and I just finished cleaning the house since mom had to work today. She picked up, dusted and vacuumed, while I did the kitchen, mopping and laundry. We each did a bathroom. In the spirit of diversity, I picked the music today, so we listened to my new Busboys CD, followed by Ray Stevens Live*, and then Mookie got her first exposure to Frank Zappa - You Are What You Is.
I asked her if she'd like to watch a movie later, one of those flicks that mom hates, and she asked if we could watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Gotta love that kid!
She's upstairs now, working on the last of her summer homework. Man, I can't believe the amount of stuff she had to do this year. Read and annotate All Quiet on the Western Front, plus an assignment for her history class that ended up being 40 double-sided pages about world events, including maps and diagrams. Her class schedule arrived in the mail yesterday; this year (sophomore) she's taking Algebra II, Chemistry, Government, English, Speech and Drama, Theater Production, and PE/Health/Drivers Ed (oh joy).
Break over - dryer's buzzing. Almost done, there's a lot less laundry now that Robyn is gone away to school.
* The main track I wanted Mookie to hear was Ray Stevens' version of Misty. I love the original done by Johnny Mathis (?), but Stevens won a grammy with his toe-tapping arraingement, and it's one of those that makes you wonder why nobody ever did it like that before.
I used to think that apple juice looked like a urine sample, but I've decided it's closer to cheap scotch.
I'd like to thank Carl for the awesome cartoon he drew for me. I told him the name of my blog and he ran with the idea. Great job Carl!!!
Dawn over at Caterwauling has posted Haiku Error Messages. My favorite:
Chaos reigns within
Reflect, repent, and reboot
Order shall return
Add in a good roundhouse kick to Bill Gates, and the world will be in balance.
Q: Why do they call it PMS?
A: Because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.
Now that I've annoyed my cherished female visitors, on to the PSA...
Give blood. There is never enough blood on hand for emergencies, but they're desperate for donations right now. Our local blood bank has just 30 units of Type O in stock, and they average 400 units a day to local hospitals. Critical shortage. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't take that long either, so please help.
Do I practice what I preach? I used to. The American Red Cross has deemed me an unsuitable doner because I spent time in Europe during the mad cow crisis (see, there was a tie-in there). A significant percentage of doners in this area have been disqualified, which contributes to the ongoing shortage.
Zionazi. Jewpropagandist.
This is the crap that Michele dealt with over at 'a small victory'. She pointed out two wildly different versions of the same story, one posted by Newsday, the other by Indymedia. She points out that the IM version seems to be lacking in credibility, not only because of the source and it’s obvious bias, but because of the lack of facts.
And as one commenter pointed out, she handled it as an adult, which meant that he could indulge in name-calling.
Hey, it’s only fair, right? I mean, they started it.
I think this is what bothers me the most about politics today. You have a great mass of people who are so politically correct that they cannot call a shovel a spade, but off to either side are groups who must label everyone who doesn’t agree with them with the most vile and juvenile terms they can come up with, and they happily revel in the slime. But at it's root it's the same problem, the true message is less clear because of intentional distortion.
Zionazi. Jewpropagandist.
Here’s two more:
Paleosimian. Colon Bowel.
Yep, both sides do it.
Hyperbole? Humor? Venting? Maybe, but there are others out there who use the same terminology, only they hate. I’m talking about that mad, incoherent, unthinking, genocide-is-possible, room-for-nothing-else hatred. They hate and they use words like that because it demeans and dehumanizes and belittles the object of their hate.
There are a few popular blogs that I don’t read because I don’t like the general attitude. A friend called it mean-spirited, and that’s as good a term for it as any. I’m not slamming personal style, because it’s exactly that – personal. I just don’t read them, and I probably miss out on some good stuff too. But at the same time, if you spend that much time calling someone clever names, your audience may miss the meaning of the message you’re trying to put across.
And isn’t conveying your message the whole point?
Just a few odds and ends to kick off the week.
Frank Zappa said it best, "Just make sure you do it right the first time, 'cause nothings worse than a suicide chump." This woman is a suicide chump. If you really want to kill yourself, it's just not that hard. It sounds unfeeling, but I'm tired of 'Iamgoingtokillmyself(pleasesomebodystopme)'.
We've got sedums planted in the front yard along the picket fence, and right now they're covered with thousands of tiny pink blooms. I love to sit outside and just watch the activity around the flowerbeds. It's like the worlds busiest airport in miniature. You see bees of all types, mayflies and other insects too numerous to count buzzing in and out and around. Look close enough and you'll notice at least a half dozen spiders spinning their webs in strategic places. And butterflies. Butterflies love the sedums. And early in the morning, you can catch the toads out sunning themselves before it gets too hot and they retreat back into the darkest corners of the bed.
I didn't put this in my launch report, but something pretty cool happened while I was retrieving the rocket that landed behind the barn silo. I was walking along a dirt road skirting the meadow, and suddenly I was engulfed in a cloud of butterflies. There must have been close to a hundred of them. Painted Lady's, sulpher-somethings (the ones with white wings), and some small metallic blue ones. My first thought was that it was like being in a Disney movie. Happened again as I walked back through the same area after fetching my rocket. You've got to enjoy the little things.
I want to die on my one hundredth birthday. Shot dead. In bed. By a jealous husband.
I believe in planning ahead, so I need a date for early September, 2059. Any takers?
The Doobie Brothers' Jesus Is Just Alright is kickass driving music. Locomotive Breath by Jethro Tull is another great one. What makes you crank it up while driving?
I'll leave you with this, then get back to loading up the truck for today's launch.
A blonde lady is speeding down a highway, and gets pulled over by a blonde cop. He asks her for her license and registration, and as she's digging through her purse, her compact comes open and she see's her reflection in the mirror. Thinking it's her license, she hands the open compact to the cop. He looks into it and says, "If I'd have known you were a cop, I wouldn't have pulled you over."
European soccer champ AC Milan signed a young Brazilian player known simply as "Kaka" for about 2 million a year.
...if I've posted this before or not, but it's my all-time favorite out-of-context quote:
Dr. Suess probably made a fortune on the side writing porn.
I heard a radio commercial yesterday that had me laughing out loud. It was one of those Bud 'celebrates-the-little-man' spots, and it was a tribute to the guy who invented the Giant Taco Salad. Some bits of it (from memory):
Thanks to American ingenuity, we've managed to invent what no one thought possible: the 12,000 calorie salad.
Ground beef, beans, guacamole, sour cream, cheese, and - if there's any room left - a few shreds of lettuce.
You might ask, "is it healthy?" Yes it is. Because it's a salad.
Good stuff.
Over at Mr. Helpful, the latest episode of the Shatner Chronicles is up. Funny stuff. Trust me, I spent five winters in North Dakota. Remember that movie Fargo? That was a freakin' documentary. Uf-da!
Which is the diplomatic way of avoiding the words 'Raiders lose'.
I was noticing something about the building where I work - there are signs everywhere. Most fall into the "DO" or "DO NOT DO" category, and have been printed by some chickenshit busybody concerned coworker who feels that we all need to be treated like children reminded to behave in a manner that meets his personal standards.
While reflecting on that (in the mens room, face to face with a sign telling me that courteous people flush), I realized that all of these signs said basically the same thing. So I'm going to write up a suggestion form and turn it in for management to consider. Think of all the untidy and non-standard mini-signs taped and stapled up all over the workplace, and we can be rid of all of them with one simple sign. In big neon letters, as you walk in the front door:
