And the British citizens, who will soon be relegated to saying "Boo!" to ward off potential attackers. Of course, scaring muderers, rapists and other assorted thugs will probably be ruled as violating the human rights of criminals. Anyway, apparently there's a move afoot to ban long, pointy knives. WTF?! No really, WTF?!
I especially heart the Australians themselves, and not just because they've been our staunchest allies, although that's certainly true. It's because when Americans look around the globe for people with kindred souls, people who cherish the same sort of freedoms that we do, we invariably find the Australians. Case in point: Pixy Misa demolishes
ToiletpaperNewsweek for their, umm, anti-American slant. Yeah, I said it. No excerpts, because it's all worth reading.
And I hope that Kurt Warner makes the Pro Bowl this year. That might normally sound ridiculous in light of the fact that he'll play for the Cardinals, but Arizona has a lot of depth at wide receiver. And I somehow doubt that Dennis Green will call lots of 5-wide formations that supra-genius Mike Martz used to effectively end Warner's tenure with the Rams.
I heard lots of people last season mentioning how great Bulger looked playing for the Rams. Did anyone pay attention to how he was allowed to succeed? They ran the ball more often, and tended to leave an extra blocker in the backfield, giving Bulger time to get rid of the ball. Maybe it's me, but I think that you can be slightly more successful at QB if you're constantly being blindsided to the turf. But that's just me.
At long last, I've decided to post a series on brewing beer. My hope is that others will pick up this hobby for themselves. In any event, the first technical post will follow later tonight. It will detail what equipment you'll need to get started. Post #2 will discuss the ingredients. And so on.
I had already planned to brew at least two beers within the next 30 days. What I might do is postpone those plans for a few weeks while I wade through this Brewing Your First Beer series in the hopes that a few others might become motivated enough to brew along with me. If anyone is interested, we could even plan a brew swap and have an online chat one evening to taste and discuss our beers. Just a suggestion, of course. In any event, I will brew, bottle, taste and report back on the quality. If anyone else is interested, please leave a note in the comments. My email filters are quite robust and tend to over-filter my messages.
Stay tuned: more brewing information to follow.
Why? Because I f*cking say so.
John Cole links to a story that should frighten the crap out of every law-abiding citizen in this country who, because he/she wanted to protect the personal information on his/her computer by encrypting it, can be judged as more likely to be guilty based the use of said encryption software. Excerpt:
"We find that evidence of appellant's Internet use and the existence of an encryption program on his computer was at least somewhat relevant to the state's case against him," Judge R.A. Randall wrote in an opinion dated May 3.
Oh really? Please feel free to kiss my bottom, as my hind end's exterior remains unencrypted.
In a train compartment, there are 3 men and a ravishing young girl. The four passengers join in conversation, which very soon turns to the erotic. Then, the young girl proposes, "If each of you will give me $1.00, I will show you my legs." The men, charmed by this young girl, all pull a buck out of their wallet.
And then the girl pulls up her dress a bit to show her legs. Then she says, "If each of you gentlemen will give me $10.00, I'll show you my thighs," and men being what they are, they all pull out a ten dollar bill. The girl pulls up her dress all the way to show her legs in full.
Conversation continues, and the men, a bit excited, have all taken off their coats.
Then the young girl says, "If you will give me $100, I will show you where I was operated on for my appendicitis."
All three fork over the money. The girl then turned to the window and points outside at a building they're passing. "See there in the distance. That's the hospital where I had it done!"
Received via email many years ago and I just felt like sharing:
Feeling footloose and frisky, a foolish fellow forced his father to fork over his fourth of the family farthings and flew far to a foreign field where he fast frittered his fathers fortune feasting foolishly with faithless friends. Fleeced by his fellows and folly, and facing famine he found himself a feed flinger in a filthy farm. Flushed and fairly famished he fain would have filled his frame with foraged food from farm fodder.
"My father's flunkies fair far finer." The frazzled fugitive forlornly fumbled. Frustrated and filled with forboding, he fled forthwith to his father. Falling to his father's feet he forlornly fumbled, "Father, I have flunked and frugalessly forfeited family favor." The fugitive's, faultfinding brother frowned on fickle forgiveness, but the faithful father figure filled with fidelity, cried, "The fugitive is found. What forbids further festivities. Let the flags unfurl and the fanfares flare." Father flagged a flunky who fetched a fatling from the flock and fixed a feast.
The moral of the story is: The father's forgiveness formed a foundation for the fugitive's future fortitude. Luke 15:11 - 32
Robert Heinlein predicted something similar to this in Methuselah's Children. Pretty interesting idea. Of course, for it to work properly, synthetic blood will have to be created in bulk. Otherwise, the elderly will be sucking their grandchildren dry.
And it refers to Air America. Excerpt:
In addition to Franken the Air America line-up includes Randi Rhodes, a conspiracy-theorist harpy from Brooklyn with the on-air demeanor of an involuntarily retired stripper. Rhodes is the sort of erudite commentator whose afternoon excursions into political nuance are punctuated by zany sound effects and songs about bouncing boobies. When she's not telling listeners how smart and educated she is Rhodes is the sort of spellbinding broadcaster who gets words like "assert" and "insert" confused. Rhodes’ most recent contribution to civil discourse was a skit during which sound effects were used to graphically simulate the assassination of President Bush — funny, funny stuff. The good news for Randi was that this revolting segment has actually increased her average daily listening audience by about three Secret Service agents.
Two mathematicians were having dinner in a restaurant, arguing about the average mathematical knowledge of the American public. One mathematician claimed that this average was woefully inadequate, the other maintained that it was surprisingly high.
"I'll tell you what," said the cynic, "ask that waitress a simple math question. If she gets it right, I'll pick up dinner. If not, you do". He then excused himself to visit the men's room, and the other called the waitress over.
"When my friend comes back," he told her, "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to respond `one third x cubed.' There's twenty bucks in it for you." She agreed.
The cynic returned from the bathroom and called the waitress over. "The food was wonderful, thank you," the mathematician started. "Incidentally, do you know what the integral of x squared is?"
The waitress looked pensive; almost pained. She looked around the room, at her feet, made gurgling noises, and finally said, "Um, one third x cubed?"
So the cynic paid the check. The waitress wheeled around, walked a few paces away, looked back at the two men, and muttered under her breath, "...plus a constant."
There was this couple that was married for 20 years, and every time they had
sex the husband always insisted on shutting off the lights. Well, after 20 years
the wife felt this was stupid. She figured she would break him out of the crazy
habit. So one night, while they were in the middle of doin it, she turned on the lights. She looked down and saw her husband was holding a dildo.
She gets completely upset. "You impotent bastard," she screamed at him, "how
could you be lying to me all of these years. You better explain yourself!" The husband looks her straight in the eyes and says, calmly, "I'll explain the dildo if you can explain our three kids."
Apparently the strong and the smart don't have an evolutionary preference over the weak and abysmally stupid. If so, we wouldn't have instances of abject idiocy like this cropping up almost daily.
Update: In a related story(login: firstname.lastname@example.org, password: lulu29), it turns out that cigarettes are really bad for your health. Excerpt:
A leap of faith proved hazardous for a smoker in need of a cigarette fix after a night on the town.
Jeff Foran suffered trauma to his nose, eyes and chin after jumping from a car traveling 55-60 mph. Authorities said he was trying to retrieve a cigarette blown out of the passenger-side window.
The Republicans, fresh-faced and spirited after their gains during the last two election cycles, decided to pork themselves in their collective asses by capitulating to the Democrats on the issue of judicial filibusters. Worse still, all of us have to live with the image of John McCain puffing himself up for the all but certain photo opportunities with Katie Couric et al.
Guys, here's a clue: when you have the votes, use them. No matter what you do to make nice with the editors at the NY Times, they will always endorse the guy/gal from the Democrat party. The leftist moonbatigentsia will still call you guys Hitler the next time you propose any legislation that they don't like. You know, stuff like cutting taxes. That sort of thing.
Oh, and even though you've managed to accomplish what I assumed no one could do( I will now donate money to the campaigns of any Democrat opposing the RINO's next year), I will offer you some advice which I know you will ignore, because you're all a bunch of pathetic, whiny, good for nothing kiss-ass dickheads: use your power now because you will be completely screwed when the Dem's retake the Senate, which by my reckoning will now be 2006. Do you know what's going to happen then? Huh? The Democrats will change the number of votes needed to break a judicial filibuster down to 51 and then nominate some moonbat like Nancy Pelosi to the Supreme Court. You think that the courts are adversarial now? Wait until all the Supremes and Appellate judges harken from the moonbat fringe of the Democrat party. Any/all freakish legislation that the left cannot pass in Congress will be imposed via the courts.
I know that some of you might be saying, "We'll stand up to the Democrats for a SCOTUS nominee!" Please. My mother didn't raise an imbecile, although she can be forgiven for thinking that I've become one; after all, I actually believed you when you said you'd fight the judicial filisbusters. My bad; I won't get fooled again. Unless or until you actually stand up for the principles that caused me to vote Republican in 2004, I will be actively supporting the campaigns for Democrats in successive election cycles. Ah, who the fuck am I kidding about the Republicans standing up to the Dem's? I might as well earmark my political contributions to the Donkey party right now.
You guys have been fabulous and all, but I think I'm tired of dicking around with you. I want to hit rock bottom as quickly as possible. And thanks to you guys, it looks like I'm gonna help make it happen.
P.S. You can still win me back, but now the onus is on you. I trust actions, not words. Pull the trigger; send all of the nominees for a vote. Force the Democrats to stage an actual filibuster, not this pussy-whipped shit that you've been letting them get away with.
Update: Hugh Hewitt, of course, expresses his pique more eloquently.
Update: TKS has a roundup of right-of-center blogs and their reactions to this cheese-eating surrender monkey decision.
Update: I feel like a fortune teller: McCain was Katie's first guest this morning.
Update: Obviously, John Cole and I disagree over the whole filibuster thing. Excerpt:
As for the filibuster bullshit, we slit our own damned throats with that. I would like an up or down vote on nominees, but I just don't have it in me to lie about the situation.
We changed the rules of the game, and then acted all shocked when the Democrats (who are in no way without sin) got pissed. We stopped the blue slips and other options once we became the majority. The Constitutional issue is nothing more than nonsense to sell the naked power grab, and that is what it was. Bush never expected for all of his judges to get confirmed- no reasonable President would.
See, here's where I think that John might not be seeing the big picture. Does he really think that the next time the Democrats hold the power in the Senate that they won't change the Senate rules to suit their purposes? After all, Robert Byrd did it in the not so distant past, reducing the number of votes for cloture from 67 down to 60.
Let's go all out in this example. Hillary becomes president in 2008 and the Dem's sweep to power in the Senate riding on her coattails. Now imagine that she nominates some left-wing ideologue who believes that it's okey-dokey to legislate from the bench. Now the Republicans decide to filisbuster this unreasonable candidate. Does John actually believe that the Democrats will spend more than a few minutes trying to find some sort of compromise to get an up-or-down vote in the Senate? I don't think so. After some public appearances decrying the Republicans' stonewalling, the Senate Democrats will change the filibuster rule so that cloture can be invoked with only 51 votes for judges. Once the judicial filibuster is broken, those same 51 Democrats will then vote en masse for whomever Hillary nominated. Count on it.
Update: Jeff Goldstein makes a succinct analysis. Excerpt:
But today, at least, it feels like a compromise in the worst sense , and I have great sympathy for all those who are beginning to question why they’ve given so much time and energy to win the party the presidency—as well as control of both the House and the Senate—only to watch their elected officials allow the minority party to control the government.
A stewardess approached a gentleman who was voicing his complains rather loudly.
"I want to complain about this airline. Every time I fly, I get the same seat, I can't see the in-flight movie, and there are no window blinds so I can't sleep."
"Captain, shut up and land the plane."
Received via email:
Sergeant: "Did you give the prisoner the third degree?"
Officer: "Yeah, we browbeat him, asking every question we could."
Sergeant: "And did you get a confession?"
Officer: "Not exactly. All he said was, 'Yes Dear,' and dozed off."
Wandering around Kim du Toit's site and found some quizzes. While I agree with him about how many tests will generate a pre-ordained result, I usually enjoy taking some of them. Anyway, here's one set of results:
Your Political Profile
|Overall: 90% Conservative, 10% Liberal|
|Social Issues: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal|
|Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal|
|Fiscal Issues: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal|
|Ethics: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal|
|Defense and Crime: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal|
I have a big problem with some of the questions because they were listed as either/or, with no third answer listed. Some of the questions caused me to grit my teeth before answering because I didn't really like the answer I chose, I just disliked the other one more.
If the IRS had invented the quadratic formula.
Pretty amusing, but I don't it approaches the level of absurdity of the IRS.
You should consider the consequences carefully. John Cheese walks you through some things you maybe, just maybe, hadn't considered. Excerpt:
If you’re thinking of having a child, you’ve obviously already pictured your happy baby, cooing and laughing happily in his happy crib inside your happy, happy home. You’ve thought of the joy it will bring when you hear his first “mommy” or “daddy” happily flopping out of his happy, smiling mouth. I’m sure you’ve even considered the unpleasantness of changing a nasty diaper, and decided that it was a necessary evil that you could live with. A happy necessary evil. But here’s an exercise that will help you get ready for the times in between these wonderful milestones.
Walk over to your stereo and flip it to AM radio. Don’t find a station. Instead, set the dial in between a station and static, so you get that high-pitched squeal, not unlike an emergency siren. Sit yourself six inches in front of your speakers and crank the volume as loud as it will go. Remain in that position for the next four hours.
While you’re doing that, pay a friend to randomly strike a match under your smoke alarm, and then vomit warm cottage cheese onto your shirt.
Did you make it through without setting your house on fire? If not, then you are not ready for a baby. Feel free to comb the rest of the site for fart and penis jokes. For those of you who did make it, congratulations. You’re one step closer to looking down the shirts of hot chicks as they bend over in front of you to fawn over your newborn.
No more excuses about my failure to complete Alliance assignments. Do, or do not; there is not try. Anyway, apparently the Puppy Sipping Master of the Internet isn't taking too kindly to Arianna Huffington sticking her beak into his domain, which leads us to this week's assignment: What will Evil Glenn do about Arianna Huffington and the Huffington Post?
Top Ten Things Evil Glenn Will Do To Punish Ariannia and her Website
10) After noticing that his midsection has gotten flabby, Evil Glenn will unleash one month's worth of potential canine protein shakes on Arianna's central office where they will wreak the sort of havoc that only 3000 puppies can.
9) Mention her dismissively her on his blog: But, I confess, I find the question of what Arianna thinks less pressing than I used to.
8) Hack penguin porn onto her website. Then again, that might drive up the Huffington Bloat's traffic, so that's probably a non-starter.
7) Mention off-handedly that Arianna opposes gay marriage. Andrew Sullivan will immediately denounce any subsequent statement by her as "gob-smackingly vile".
6) Photoshop pictures of Arianna wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the slogan "California Condor: the other white meat."
5) Pay Howard Dean to act as publicist for her website.
4) Hire Ted Kennedy to be her chauffeur.
2) Use the forces of Darkness to raise an army of undead hobo minions to eradicate her and her website.
And the number one thing that Evil Glenn is likely to do about Arianna and the Huffington Post:
1) Ignore them because they're just not worth the effort.
I noticed a spike in my site traffic yesterday and followed the referrer link back to a forum on Delphi(login id: test13_13, password: dorkboy). The poster referred to this post of mine and mentioned that I had neglected one picture, which appears in the extended section.
Watched Attack of the Clones again and I still think it's better than The Phantom Menace, and that's truly damning with faint praise. In fact, Episode I was so rotten that I finally broke my tradition of going on the first day. No, I never dressed up as a character or camped out for weeks on end. However, the original Stars Wars was so good, I and 3 of my friends in high school got our parents to write notes requesting that we all be given half a day off from school for a "family activity". We waited in line for about 1 1/2 hours for The Empire Strikes Back, and when the words started scrolling up the screen, the audience clapped appreciatively. Finally, when R2D2 managed to get get the warp drive, or whatever it's called, started in the Millenium Falcon, the audience cheered. It was the most involved I've ever seen a movie audience become. Fast forward a few more years: I asked off of work on our busiest night to see Return Of The Jedi. Amazingly, my boss didn't even bat an eye. Almost 20 years later, I bought my tickets in advance and went to see Episode I the first day. Visually, it was appealing. Overall, it pretty much reeked. It was so bad that I didn't go see Episode II until it hit the 2nd run discount movie theater in town. I still maintain that at the start of Attack of the Clones, Jar Jar Binks should have run off of a cliff and died in a big cinematic splat. Heck, I would have paid to see the movie again.
One thing in the movie did appeal to me, though: Natalie Portman. She was a pretty girl and has grown into quite a hottie. Her acting in the movie was pretty mediocre, but let's face it, it must have been hard to get geeked up for that script. Whatever. In any case, I've long since passed the point where I'll watch a movie just because it has a good looking woman in it.
Not really, but you'd be surprised(okay, maybe not) at how many otherwise dead-to-the-world drunks somehow manage to hear this phrase when you're in a bar. I figured it would work just as well in my blog. Now back to beer.
I like to cook. I like beer. Homebrewing provides me with an opportunity to combine two of my passions into one rather entertaining enterprise.(Note: I've had a batch of homebrew sitting in a secondary fermenter for more than a year without bottling. My wife would have dumped it in a heartbeat if she could lift the carboy.) Add the malt extract(all you all grain snobbish types feel free to shut up now) and the hops to the water, bring it all to a boil, clean up the boil over, bring to a boil again, cool, pitch the yeast, wait, bottle and then drink the finished product. Ahhh. Good stuff.
I enjoy the smell of boiling wort. The aroma of hops and malt fills the house wonderfully. Unfortunately, the chief HATES the smell, and I mean despises it with a passion. She let me brew ONE batch in the house right after we were married and that's it. However, wonderful lady that she is, she gave me a propane cooker so I could brew in the garage, thereby allowing me to continue with my hobby without assaulting her sense of smell.
One side note for budding brewers: be careful with your hop disposal if you use leaf hops(ignore if using pellets). Back in the 1990's, a few cases of toxic hyperthermia in greyhounds were reported after the dogs ate the spent hops. I don't remember if any other dog owners reported similar problems. Cats might also be susceptible, but most don't eat their vegetables. Meat, meat and more meat is their meal of choice. In any event, take the trash out and put in a can with a lid.
The funny thing about beer you've brewed is that you will drink it even if it's not great. Okay, it stinks. A lot. The crappy taste is offset by the pride of having made it yourself. This does not include actual beer disasters. The first cream ale I tried to brew tasted like swamp water minus the mosquitoes, only not as potable. It's the only batch I've ever poured straight down the drain. Wasting 5 gallons of beer would normally be a crime punsihable by flogging, but that batch didn't qualify as beer. Probably could have used it as a chemical weapon.
Good beer is its own reward. That's why I've flown out to Denver 5 years in a row for the GABF, and I'm going there again after a brief hiatus due to the birth of my second child. I highly recommend this trip to others. Free beer(if you volunteer) and a chance to meet other beer lovers. Me too, but that's just a bonus.
Some time ago, Harvey posted a link to YahooPOPS, which allows users to download their Yahoo messages in their favorite email client, such as Outlook Express. This was a direct response to Yahoo's removal of POP3 access to their system. Anyway, FreePOPS allows access to a large number of Web-only email systems. Pretty freaking cool.
Want variety? Check out Mr. Postman, too.
If, like me, you're still mired in Bill Gates's money factory, but can't bear the thought of shelling out $500 for another necessary application, you might be interested in the OSSWIN Project. Tons and tons of free stuff that you might consider replacing your proprietary Windows software with.
Some of them I like, some I don't, but the price cannot be beat.
The caption for the photo below says "Miss Europe, Shermine Shahrivar of Germany, poses during red carpet arrivals...". Yeah, poses is the word I'd use. See for yourself in the entended entry.
Jim Geraghty hasn't lost his writing skills while living in Turkey. Excerpt:
We know what's going on. What was the one moment that things looked darkest for the Bush presidency in the last three and a half years? During the endless all-Abu-Ghraib, all-the-time abuse coverage festival from last spring. When references to the prison abuse scandal were cropping up on the Washington Post’s Sports, Arts, and Metro sections.
The Isikoff story – and the inevitable coming deluge of in-depth investigative journalism of additional tales of abuse from those utterly trustworthy al-Qaeda prisoners – are a return to the “good old days” of last spring. When Teddy Kennedy could compare the U.S. military’s handling of prisoners to Saddam’s torture chambers with a gleeful, hearty grin. When our guys on the front lines could be portrayed as sadistic, black-hearted villains. When the face of our guys wasn’t the stoic loyalty of a Pat Tillman, the pride and dedication of a Jeffrey Adams, or any other one of our heroes but the nauseating sneer of Lynndie England.
Boy, did those days feel good to the media.
Call that whatever you like. But don’t call it journalism.
Unlike John Cole, I don't view myself as a Republican, but rather a conservative with libertarian leanings. And while the Republican party used to be the political home for conservatives, I don't believe it's really the case any more. John created a pretty detailed list of Republican offenses here.
Update: Don't even get me started on fiscal "responsibility" in Congress. Both parties are comprised of money-hungry whores. I guess that that makes me "the John", but not in the happy "at least I had an orgasm" way.
Update: Harvey makes the point in the comments that I probably owe an apology to prostitutes, and I think he's correct. At least with whores, you get exactly what you pay for, and you know in advance how much it's going to cost.
And it doesn't use any of that nasty gunpowder, either, but rather centrifugal force*** to accelerate the projectiles.
***Note: centrifugal force does NOT exist; it's not called a pseudo force for nothing. The word to remember is INERTIA.
Someone else loathes the Hamster Dance as much as me. Just move your mouse pointer around the group of singing hamsters to get the effect. Unfortunately, it doesn't kill the damned song. Best to "mute all" before visiting.
But this time, it was back in 1993. Excerpt:
And, to get really absurd, let’s add that he had called for an end to single-sex prisons on the theory that if male prisoners are going to return to a community in which men and women function as equal partners, prison is just the place for them to get prepared to deal with women.
Let’s further posit that this nominee had opined that a manifest imbalance in the racial composition of an employer’s work force justified court-ordered quotas even in the absence of any intentional discrimination on the part of the employer. But then, lo and behold, to make this nominee even more of a parody of an out-of-touch leftist, let’s say it was discovered that while operating his own office for over a decade in a city that was majority-black, this nominee had never had a single black person among his more than 50 hires.
Imagine, in sum, a nominee whose record is indisputably extreme and who could be expected to use his judicial role to impose those views on mainstream America. Surely such a person would never be nominated to an appellate court. Surely no Senate Democrat would support someone with such extreme views. And surely Senate Republicans, rather than deferring to the nominating power of the Democrat President, would pull out all stops—filibuster and everything—to stop such a nominee.
Well, not quite. The hypothetical nominee I have just described is, in every particular except his sex, Ruth Bader Ginsburg at the time she was nominated to the Supreme Court in 1993.
And contrary to the old PSA on television, I have many questions, such as "why am I laughing so damned hard?" Just curious.
I just finished Sanctuary(part I), and this little nugget almost made me choke:
Seeing Janeane Garofolo in the flesh induces a sort of slack-jawed awe. One must go back all the way to Vanilla Ice to witness so much attitude in front of so little talent.
I've been checking Bill Whittle's site daily for the last few weeks, eagerly anticipating his next post. Not surprisingly, he had to break the post into two smaller parts. Sanctuary(part I) and Sanctuary(part II) are now available for viewing. Go there. Now.
John Derbyshire posts the following letter from a reader:
"A quick way to debunk the 'we need more money' claims from public schools: calculate how much they are spending per class.
"Lets suppose the district is spending $8,000 per student, which I believe is below the national average and well below what they spend in your region. If each class has 20 students, which again would be quite low, they are spending $160,000 per class. If there are 25 students then its $200,000. On what? Pay the teacher $80,000 and you still have $80,000 left for the building, administrators, buses, books, etc, $120,000 if you use the bigger class.
"Give me $100,000 to educate 20 kids for a year and I'll gladly quit my job as an attorney, rent the necessary facilities, and provide a much better education to them than the public schools do.
"As a homeowner who would under no circumstances allow any of my five children to attend any public school (which means I am giving up a $1/2 million government subsidy), I find the amounts the government spends on schools to be utterly outrageous."
Episode VII: The Search For More Merchandising. Or something like that.
I received the following via email and have not located the source. Anyone who finds the link, let me know. Thanks.
Click on extended entry.
vs. Evil Empire
|Potent quotables|| ||"Luke, I am your father."|| ||"Pedro, I am your daddy."|| ||Push – kids, no one wins with patricide.|
|Organizational goals|| ||Utter domination and destruction of all|
those who stand in the way.
| ||Wait, isn't that what I just said?|| ||Push|
|When the going gets tough, they:|| ||Reach for their laser|| ||Reach for the roster of the nearest small|
| ||"Star Wars," until that checkbook|
pays for someone under the age of 30.
|Title fights|| ||Maul/Kenobi|| ||Zim/Martinez|| ||"Star Wars," and dignity|
|Biggest party animals in franchise history|| ||Jabba the Hutt|| ||Ruth, the Babe|| ||Push|
|Home-field advantage|| ||The Death Star|| ||South Bronx – the other death star|| ||Yankees|
|Who you meet in line for tickets:|| ||A 29-year-old virgin with a plastic light|
| ||A 29-year-old felon with a plastic beer|
| ||"Star Wars"|
|You know a fan has sipped the Kool-Aid|
| ||He thinks chicks dig a guy in a Darth|
Maul mask that smells of sweat and acne medication.
| ||He thinks George has mellowed.|| ||"Star Wars"|
|You'll never lose ...:|| ||Your spot in line, thanks to your officially|
licensed "Revenge of the Sith" catheter.
| ||A free agent, as long as they keep raising|
the subscription rates for the YES Network.
| ||Let's just move on ...|
|Uniforms|| ||White storm trooper unis fashioned from|
leftover Mazda 280Z panels.
| ||Classic pinstripes left over from the|
days when they were in first place.
|Tactics of victory|| ||Rely on the Dark Force to lure the unwilling|
with the promise of unlimited power.
| ||Rely on the checkbook to lure the unwilling|
with the promise of unlimited funds.
|Hired guns just there for the money|| ||Boba Fett, Jango Fett ... hell, any of|
| ||Mike Stanton, Mike Mussina ... hell, all|
|The price of disappointing your leader|| ||You might lose a hand|| ||You get to be one of 12 designated hitters|| ||Yankees|
|Tall 'n hairy|| ||Chewbacca|| ||Randy Johnson|| ||"Star Wars" – when was the|
last time Chewie went on the DL?
|Short 'n scary|| ||Jawas|| ||George's temper|| ||Yankees|
|Laments|| ||If only Jar Jar Binks had kept his mouth|
| ||If only Giambi had used "The Whizzinator"|| ||Push|
|Elusive sources of power|| ||The Force|| ||The Juice|| ||Yankees. You can get 'roids at any high|
|Leader of the Dark Side|| ||The Emperor|| ||The Steinbrenner|| ||Yankees – who else can ooze power while|
wearing a simple white turtleneck?
|Every emperor needs a servant|| ||Darth Vader|| ||Brian Cashman|| ||"Star Wars"|
|How the mighty have fallen|| ||Darth Vader is now the voice of "Verizon|
Wireless 411 connect"
| ||Kevin Brown – still angry, still surly|
and now awful.
| ||"Star Wars"|
|The Resistance|| ||The rebel forces|| ||The Red Sox|| ||Red Sox – they had a better year.|
|Fonts of wisdom|| ||Yoda|| ||Yogi|| ||Yankees|
|Theme song|| ||"Don, don, don, don-da-don, don-da-don!"|| ||"New York, New York"|| ||Yankees. Don't think Sinatra ever closed|
a show singing "Don don don, you kookie don, doodle-di-don!"
If this isn't a sign of The End Times, I don't know what is.
Apparently it was Bitchslap Andrew Sullivan Day. Glenn Reynolds put down his Chihuahua smoothy long enough to deliver as pointed a smackdown as he's ever done. Excerpt:
I do confess that I think that winning the war is much more important than Abu Ghraib, and that viewing the entire war -- and the entire American military -- through the prism of Abu Ghraib is as unfair as judging all Muslims by the acts of terrorists. Andrew has chosen the role of emoter-in-chief on these subjects, and he's welcome to it, though he would be more convincing in that part if he didn't count wrapping people in the Israeli flag as torture.
As Mickey Kaus has noted, Andrew can be excitable. A while back he apologized to me for some of his criticisms during the election, and more recently he has apologized to his readers for his waffling and defeatism on the war last spring. Perhaps he'll apologize for this at some point in the future. But, I confess, I find the question of what Andrew thinks less pressing than I used to.
Update: Speaking of uncharacteristic rants, Pejman goes so far as to say "bullshit" in a column. Okay, he really said "bulls***", but reading between the lines isn't too hard when they're a few light years apart. Excerpt:
I probably shouldn't even bother to write this because life is short, but it appears to be important to point out to Andrew Sullivan and his snide and newfound fan that in all likelihood, the reason "conservative bloggers" are upset and angry about the Newsweek screwup is that it cost lives in the Middle East and it could have cost a lot more lives as well. In addition--and this is a somewhat important point, so please pay attention Political Animals and New Republic senior editors--it harmed our country's prestige and standing on the basis of a story that was entirely false. It is the kind of story that can fan rather vicious flames, and if you want to fan flames, you damn well better make sure that you have your facts right. If you do, feel free to publish the story. If you don't and you publish the story anyway and people die as a result and your country ends up suffering diplomatically . . . well . . . it ain't a good day at the office, now is it?
Update: Dean weighs in as well. Considering that he, like Glenn, has been one of Andrew's staunchest supporter, this is pretty tough stuff. Unfortunately, this won't bring Sullivan back to sanity. His newfound friends at the Daily Kos are probably begging him to come out like David Brock. Anyway, excerpt:
Jon, I'm sorry, but when you bring in stories of how a detainee had his crotch grabbed, or had lotion rubbed on him, and juxtapose that with stories of what may be very real and upsetting abuses like putting someone in solitary confinement with a light burning 24 hours a day, you weaken your argument considerably. And, to be blunt, while I've long been one of Andrew Sullivan's defenders, quoting him these days on the subject of the war is just laughable. The man is no longer rational on anything involving the war or the Bush administration. He simply isn't.
Actually, I preferred the Perrier containing Benzene. I believe it was called "Classic Perrier".(I think that this was an old David Letterman joke in the 1908's). Anyway, John Stossel has more on society's infatuation with expensive water. Personally, I prefer filtered water, since I cannot abide the taste of chorine. I pretty much don't buy bottled water unless it contains caramel coloring, carbonation and caffeine. Okay, I like the frothy, amber-colored, alcoholic version, too.
You can't stop him; you can't even hope to contain him. Excerpt:
In the affirmative-action context, conservatives have written trenchantly about the "soft bigotry of low expectations" — the promotion of a vile dependency-ethos that says "you don't need to strive for better," as a result of which many people who might, don't. Our cognate sense of the Islamic world has become the smug delusion of base expectations.
Someone alleges a Koran flushing and what do we do? We expect, accept, and silently tolerate militant Muslim savagery — lots of it. We become the hangin' judge for the imbeciles whose negligence "triggered" the violence, but offer no judgment about the societal dysfunction that allows this grade of offense to trigger so cataclysmic a reaction. We hop on our high horses having culled from the Left's playbook the most politically correct palaver about the inviolable sanctity of Holy Islamic scripture (and never you mind those verses about annihilating the infidels — the ones being chanted by the killers). And we suspend disbelief, insisting that things would be just fine in a place like Gaza if we could only set up a democracy — a development which, there, appears poised to empower Hamas, terrorists of the same ilk as those in Afghanistan and Pakistan who see comparatively minor indignities as license to commit murder.
"Minor indignities? How can you say something so callous about a desecration of the Holy Koran?" I say it as a member of the real world, not the world of prissy affectation. I don't know about you, but I inhabit a place where crucifixes immersed in urine and Madonna replicas composed of feces are occasions for government funding, not murderous uprisings. If someone was moved to kill on their account, we'd be targeting the killer, not the exhibiting museum, not the "artists," and surely not Newsweek.
I see over at MRC that Keith Olbermann made the statement that "something smells funny to me about this Newsweek apology, then retraction" . Seems not to have occurred to Olbermann that everything smells different when your head is permanently ensconced in your ass.
Nice Q&A between Scott McClellan and a reporter. And by nice I mean completely asshatted on the side of the reporter. Heavens know that he's an unbiased journalist and all. Sure he is. Excerpt:
Q Scott, the Senate has managed to function -- or not function, as the case may be -- for more than 200 years without a ban on judicial filibusters. Is the President concerned about the historic nature of what's being talked about up on the Hill?
MR. McCLELLAN: Well, John, the Senate is working to move forward on their constitutional responsibility, which is to give nominees and up or down vote. One of the priorities for this President is to put people on the bench that are highly qualified and that have a conservative judicial philosophy -- people that show judicial restraint when it comes to the bench. And there are a number of vacancies that the Senate has not moved forward on.
You've had a minority of Senate Democrats blocking up or down votes for these nominees. All we're asking for is for these nominees to receive a simple up or down vote on the floor of the United States Senate. Unfortunately, there are some Senate Democrats that have played politics in taking this to an unprecedented level. We have not seen anything like this in our 214-year history in the Senate. So I would turn that around on you and look at it from the other perspective.
Q Well, let me ask two questions about what you just said. Where in the Constitution are judicial nominees guaranteed an up or down vote? And what about the impact of this whole so-called "nuclear option" on this idea of equal representation in the Senate?
MR. McCLELLAN: There are some judicial emergencies that we're talking about here, where people need to be put into these positions. There are vacancies now. And Senate Democrats have been blocking those nominees from receiving an up or down vote.
In terms of the Constitution, the role of the President is to appoint qualified individuals to the bench. The role of the Senate is to provide their advice and consent. It's not to provide advice and block. And what we have seen is that Senate Democrats are taking this to an unprecedented level, something we have not seen in those 214 years that you reference.
And so we would hope that they would move forward in giving all of these nominees an up or down vote, because all of them are well-qualified and would do an outstanding job.
Q What about this equal representation idea?
MR. McCLELLAN: I'm sorry?
Q What about the impact of this nuclear option on the equal representation idea?
Now imagine a similar exchange between this particular reporter and Nancy Pelosi or Harry Reid:
Q Rep. Pelosi, you've mentioned how sacrosanct the filibuster is to the Senate. However, Senator Robert Byrd(D) once changed the number of votes needed on legislative filibusters by a simple rule change. I don't remember a similar outcry from the Democrats then. What's changed since then?
Q Senator Reid, members of your party stated during the Clinton presidency that they were completely opposed to judicial filisbusters, but now support them as a way of opposing President Bush. Can you explain the about face for any reason other than the fact that the political party of the current president differs from your's?
Can't do it, can you?
Update: Same topic at the New Criterion.
Update: And still more at Powerline.
I've gotten as many chuckles out of Jim Lampley's recurring column, Dementia On Display, over at the Huffington Post, but had decided recently to ignore his pathetic mewlings. I've got better things to do, such as cleaning the lint from by belly button. Come to think of it, I'd get more out of that process than reading Jimbo. Someone else, though, has decided to grab the bull(shit) by the horns. Money quote:
Jim I really pity you, for I never realized that someone could be so amazingly ignorant, yet come across as such a self righteous elitist prick.
It's a thing of beauty.
For home pornography, that is. Common Sense and Wonder links to an article that mentions being able to reach out and touch someone who's somewhere else. If this works, phone sex will go the way of the dodo. Okay, maybe the California Condor.
Grim guest-posted a beaut over at Blackfive's digs: Red State, Blue Collar. Excerpt:
Taranto argues that part of the problem is the arrogance of the national party, which labels people as "working class," as if to separate the poor from themselves. Certainly, mountain folk don't like being looked down upon any more than anyone else.
But I think the real answer is this: Red-State poor do synchronize their voting with their economic interests. They simply don't agree with national Democrats as to where that interest lies. The national party doesn't understand how wealth is created in the Red States, and so it adopts an agenda that is dead-set against what poor people actually want. The worst thing that can happen for the poor is for national Democrats to get their agenda enacted -- the period of time Noah cites began with Bush I's tax increases, and continued through the Clinton administration's "reforms."
Celestial Seasonings Tea is offering a coupon for a free box of Celestial Seasonings Tea at your local grocery store. Offer ends May 18, 2005. Limit one per customer.
| You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.|
What is Your World View? (corrected...hopefully)
created with QuizFarm.com
I am surprised that I didn't score in the negative numbers for post-modernism. Quiz found via Pejman.
I've been reading multiple posts about national ID card. My wife and I have discussed the issue at length; she's curious as to why I'm so opposed to the idea. One of my biggest problems boils down to this: I do not believe in the idea of a benevolent government. Sure, government can do some things well. By and large, though, governments tend to suffer from scope creep: they grow and grow, centralizing more power and authority to themselves. This is not, I think, a good thing. I believe that history bears me out in this regard. Anyway, Claire Wolfe has an excellent Backwoods post on this very topic. Excerpt:
Well, so what? The United States isn’t Nazi Germany -- which used a computerized national ID system to round up Jews and other “undesirables” and send them to slave labor and death. (This “civilized” bureaucratic process behind the Nazi slaughter is icily documented in Edwin Black’s 2000 book, IBM and the Holocaust.) So what’s the big deal?
The very big deal is “mission creep.” When Social Security numbers were introduced in the 1930s, the system was “voluntary.” Citizens who worried about the biblical number of the Beast (Rev. 13: 16-18) or more mundane forms of tyranny were assured that, by law, the number would never -- ever -- be used for ID.
In the tradition of nearly every limited, temporary, or voluntary government program our Social Security number eventually became our universal identifier. No law requires you to get a Social Security number, even today. But try functioning in the everyday world of work, banking, credit, schooling, home-buying, or even video rental without one.
If national ID becomes U.S. law, five years from now you won’t be able to do any of these things without submitting to various biometric scans. But that’s barely the beginning.
The new, more high-tech national ID system would enable the federal government and its contractors to follow and electronically analyze your activities in real-time -- to pinpoint your location, check your purchases, view records of your medical condition, and monitor your bank deposits and withdrawals as you make them, for instance. Worse yet, it ultimately gives government the ability to control your activities -- to (accidentally or deliberately) freeze your bank account, shut down your credit cards, deny you access to public transportation, forbid you entry into such public places as county courthouses, deny you health care, even deny you entrance to your job once your employer has (in the name of standardization, and possibly with the spur of federal subsidies or regulations) adopted the federal system. All at the click of a computer key, somewhere in Washington, D.C.
Does this sound too much like something out of the movie “Enemy of the State”?
But remember, you’re dealing with a federal government that already forbids professional licenses, drivers licenses, and even fishing licenses not to known terrorists, criminals, or illegals -- but to ordinary parents who get behind in child support. Just think what it could do to with the instant ability to monitor and cut off access to transportation or services for a variety of disobedient or “questionable“ people.
It could happen to you if you’re a “deadbeat dad,” if you’ve neglected some traffic tickets, if you fit the “profile” of a drug user or a gun owner, if you’ve stated too many controversial opinions on the Internet, if your activities appear “suspicious” by any mysterious standard, if you’ve made political enemies -- or even if there’s a glitch in the system. And have you ever tried to straighten out even a little glitch with a government agency? Good luck to you.
This is still only the beginning. Shortly (after too many people have misplaced their cards, and too many criminals continued to get useable ID), the card-borne “smart chip” would be replaced by an implanted chip -- one of which, Digital Angel, is already on the market. Periodic scanning could then be augmented by 24-hour-a-day, satellite-based tracking. People in the U.S. will be watched and controlled far more thoroughly than Winston Smith was controlled by Big Brother in 1984 -- and for the very same reasons; to impose some social manager’s ideal of order.
These are the rules you must follow:
God love their feckless, EU-loving souls. It turns out that most non-French Europeans feel the same way about the Frogs that I do. In their case, familiarity DID breed contempt. Excerpt:
Why the French are the worst company on the planet, a wry take on France by two of its citizens, dredges up all the usual evidence against them. They are crazy drivers, strangers to customer service, obsessed by sex and food and devoid of a sense of humour.
But it doesn't stop there, boasting a breakdown, nation by nation, of what in the French irritates them.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Britons described them as "chauvinists, stubborn, nannied and humourless". However, the French may be more shocked by the views of other nations.
For the Germans, the French are "pretentious, offhand and frivolous". The Dutch describe them as "agitated, talkative and shallow." The Spanish see them as "cold, distant, vain and impolite" and the Portuguese as "preaching". In Italy they comes across as "snobs, arrogant, flesh-loving, righteous and self-obsessed" and the Greeks find them "not very with it, egocentric bons vivants".
Interestingly, the Swedes consider them "disobedient, immoral, disorganised, neo-colonialist and dirty".
But the knockout punch to French pride came in the way the poll was conducted. People were not asked what they hated in the French, just what they thought of them.
"Interviewees were simply asked an open question - what five adjectives sum up the French," said Olivier Clodong, one of the study's two authors and a professor of social and political communication at the Ecole Superieur de Commerce, in Paris. "The answers were overwhelmingly negative."
According to Mr Clodong, the old adage that France is wonderful, it's just the French who are the problem, is shared across Europe.
"We are admired for our trains, the Airbus and Michelin tyres. But the buck stops there," he said.
::sniff:: I'm a little choked up right now. Someone get me a tissue. ::sniff::
Ace provided the link, in addition to a savage rhetorical beating of Hysterical Andy. I started to bludgeon his silly ass yesterday, but decided he wasn't worth the effort.
I promised myself I wouldn't read Sullivan again, but I had to sneak a peek to see his reaction to the Newsweek faux story. Not surprisingly, his disgust at the current administration trumped his "outrage", if you can call it that.
Chrenkoff posts an open letter to George Lucas. Excerpt:
Over the course of the last three years, the United States and her allies have managed to depose two truly despicable regimes in Afghanistan and Iraq and today are trying to bring the gift of freedom and democracy - things that you enjoy every day probably without giving them much thought - to tens of millions of people who have never known them before. You might well think that Anakin Skywalker's painful transformation into Darth Vader is somehow a perfect analogy for the political journey of George W Bush, but I have a sneaking suspicion that movie fans in Baghdad will have already recognized Darth Vader as one of their own - with a moustache rather than a black helmet. He, too, had two children, although they didn't turn up quite as cute as Luke and Leia. They names were Uday and Qusay.
I will still go and see "The Revenge of the Sith" when it opens in Australia in a few days' time, and I will not stop enjoying the other five films just because I read their message differently to what you intended.
But if in your mind, it's the United States that has slowly transformed itself into an evil Empire, and therefore, logically all those who stand up to it are our story's true heroes, than I have to say that the Dark Side is very strong indeed, and I have crossed over a long time ago. If America is the Empire, then please prepare a black helmet and uniform for me too.
I'll finally be able to sleep at night. No more fretting over this problem.
Someone needs to inform the Kilauea volcano that it really needs to reduce its emissions if it wants to conform to the Kyoto protocols. Excerpt:
Since it began erupting on Jan. 3, 1983, the volcano has been sending an average of 1,000 metric tons of sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere each day, according to the Hawaii chapter of the American Lung Association.
This is 6,000 times the amount emitted by a major industrial polluter on the mainland, making Kilauea the nation's top producer of sulfur dioxide.
Received via email:
"Hey, Princess, you wouldn't happen to know where a lonely knight could scabbard his sword, would you?"
"What's a nice maiden like you doing in a dungeon like this?"
"They don't call me Lance-A-Lot for nothing, you know."
"When the Inquisition put me on the rack, my limbs weren't the only thing they stretched."
"Dost thou know? That chastity belt of yours would look great on my sleeping chambers floor."
Wench: "What's that sound?" Knight: "That's just the sound of my chain mail drawers expanding."
"Thou hast hit on me harder than the black plague!"
"Your hovel or mine?"
"Pardon me, madam, but wouldeth thou like to see my long sword in action?"
"Dost thou practice safe hex?"
"Milady, it's not the size of the wand that matters, but the magic within."
"I have the key to your chastity belt and you have the key to my heart."
"You should be glad I'm not a Viking."
"You would have been ravaged and plundered by now."
"I lost my leg in battle. Guess what I'm walking on!"
"Yes, fair maiden, I am indeed a wizard. Shall I make your clothes disappear?"
"You won't believe this but St. George just appeared to me in a vision and told me that I must bed you...the fate of England depends is on it!!"
"I'm really a prince cursed by an evil witch. Tell me, do you have sex with frogs?"
"My! But you are a beautiful damsel in distress! Allow me to help you out of it."
"I've been VERY NAUGHTY. You'll have to put me in the stocks and...er...PUNISH me, now won't you?"
"You know, I was once imprisoned in a tower very much like Repunnzel. Only it wasn't my hair that the queen asked me to let down."
"I may not be a priest, but I can get you to heaven, m'lady."
"C'mon, sweetie...didn't your mother ever tell you? A cleric a day keeps the black plague away."
"I seem to have lost my sex slave, can I borrow you for a bit?"
The pissed off cowboy walked into the bar and slammed his fist on the bar.
"Ok", he shouted, "Who's the son of a bitch that painted my horse's balls red"?
At the other end, a huge biker stood up, ripped the end of the bar out of the floor and slammed it back down. "I did asshole", he said. "What have you got to say about that"?
"Oh", said the cowboy. " I just thought I'd let you know... he's ready for his second coat."
And Lileks discusses Star Trek. Excerpt:
Next Generation has many “classic” moments, but so much drearily earnest tripe – and in retrospect the Federation looks so weak and touchy-feely it’s a wonder the Romulans didn’t just knock them over for target practice. Bad romance: Worf and Troi? The big mean feral warrior and the ship’s shrink?
I NEED TO MATE. IT IS MY TIME.
Worf, I sense you are feeling stress.
I HAVE MANIFESTED THE SWORD OF KAHLISS IN MY LOWER UNIFORM. I AM . . . CONFINED.
Let’s have some tea and discuss this.
YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. MY PHOTON TORPEDO IS READY FOR THE LAUNCHING TUBE.
Sit, you silly fellow! Right here. Mind the flowers.
I DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER I CAN USE ANALOGIES TO DESCRIBE MY CONDITION.
Well, if you have to get back to work, fine, but drop by later and we can talk. Worf! Put that away! Ick!
Received the following via email:
We will now have a few politically correct terminology lessons:
1. She is not a "babe" or a "chick". She is a "Breasted American".
2. She is not a "screamer" or a "moaner". She is "Vocally Appreciative."
3. She is not "easy". She is "Horizontally Accessible".
4. She is not a "dumb blonde". She is a "Light-haired Detour Off the
5. She has not "been around". She is a "Previously Enjoyed companion".
6. She is not an "air head". She is "Reality Impaired".
7. She does not get "drunk" or "tipsy". She gets "Chemically
8. She does not have "breast implants". She is "Medically Enhanced."
9. She does not "nag" you. She becomes "Verbally Repetitive".
10. She is not a "tramp" - She is "Sexually Extroverted".
11. She does not have "Major League Hooters". She Is "Pectorally
12. She is not a "two-bit hooker". She is a "Low Cost Provider".
How To Speak About Men and be Politically Correct
1. He does not have a "beer gut". He has developed a "Liquid Grain
2. He is not a "bad dancer". He is "Overly Caucasian".
3. He does not "get lost all the time". He "investigates alternative
4. He is not "balding". He is in "Follicle Regression".
5. He is not a "cradle robber". He prefers "generationally
6. He does not get "falling-down drunk". He becomes "Accidentally
7. He does not act like a "total ass". He develops a case of
"Rectal-Cranial Inversion". (I Love This 1!!!)
8. He is not a "Male Chauvinist Pig". He has "Swine Empathy".
9. He is not afraid of "commitment". He is "relationship challenged".
10. He is not "horny". He is "sexually focused".
11. It's not his "crack" you see hanging out of his pants. It's "rear
The obligatory link to Michelle Malkin, just because.
The fact is that the rioters behaved disgracefully, criminally, horrifically. Killing someone for desecrating a book is insane.
It's also beside the point. The press no longer even considers the possibility that it might act as an enemy propagandist. It's the farthest thing from their minds, not even on their list of considerations.
So what exactly does that say about them?
Right on target, I think.
Update: I've got to add a link to Captain Ed, if for no other reason than his (for him) unusual use of profanity. Excerpt:
Quite frankly, this is bullshit. They went to the Pentagon with a wild story about flushed Qu'rans and now they're surprised when no one knew anything about it? Can you imagine what Newsweek would have written and published had the Pentagon told them to keep quiet about it? They would have turned it into another Abu Ghraib, complete with cover-ups and military censorship. It would have resulted in more silly Senate hearings, and even worse publicity than what Newsweek already generated, with more loss of life -- and all for a story that sounded patently false from the very beginning.
Update: And of course Bill Ardolino pussyfoots around the topic as well:
God, I hate Newsweek. It only grows and grows, my hatred, flourishing like an aggressive mycotoxic mold in the dark, damp crannies of my psyche.
Head on over to LaShawn Barber's Corner for more on the firestorm that Newsweek has created.
Update: Den Beste sighting over here at Daily Pundit, wherein he (rightfully) skewers Sullivan:
Andrew Sullivan's contribution:
Maybe we will have some sort of resolution of this soon, but I doubt it. I reiterate what I wrote Saturday: "Even if this incident turns out to be false, our previous policies have made it perfectly plausible." That's the deeper issue here.
Great. Just great. Sullivan sounds like Rather last September: "The story is true even if the evidence is false."
Final update: And it's from Dean again:
There was a time when I thought the press had a bias problem, but one that could easily be corrected if they were just open minded and a little more thoughtful. But nowadays? When it comes to coverage of the war? I simply no longer think that. I feel betrayed by them. I think they're mostly a bunch of cynical, selfish, shallow, unpatriotic jerks--jerks who have no understanding of military matters, a shallow grasp of history, and no sense of proportion at all. So they will happily repeat lie after lie all in the name of a phony "objectivity" that they clearly do not possess.
Michael Isikoff isn't a fluke. He's the single lesion on a single cell that reveals the pathology that's destroying the entire organism.
Yeah, I think you can call them unpatriotic.
Looks like Howard Dean made some typically restrained comments regarding Tom Delay. To wit: "DeLay 'ought to go back to Houston where he can serve his jail sentence.'" Not surprising, of course. What is surprising is that Barney Frank lambasted him: "That's just wrong. I think Howard Dean was out of line talking about DeLay. The man has not been indicted. I don't like him, I disagree with some of what he does, but I don't think you, in a political speech, talk about a man as a criminal or his jail sentence."
Words to live by. Too bad more people in this country don't feel that way.
Info found at Nealz Nuze.
You may not believe in God, but you probably believe in something. Behold Fictionality. Excerpt:
Fictionology's central belief, that any imaginary construct can be incorporated into the church's ever-growing set of official doctrines, continues to gain popularity. Believers in Santa Claus, his elves, or the Tooth Fairy are permitted—even encouraged—to view them as deities. Even corporate mascots like the Kool-Aid Man are valid objects of Fictionological worship.
"My personal savior is Batman," said Beverly Hills plastic surgeon Greg Jurgenson. "My wife chooses to follow the teachings of the Gilmore Girls. Of course, we are still beginners. Some advanced-level Fictionologists have total knowledge of every lifetime they have ever lived for the last 80 trillion years."
"Sure, it's total bullshit," Jurgenson added. "But that's Fictionology. Praise Batman!"
It could have been worse. He could have said "Praise Britney Spears!" ::shudder::
C3PO, pr0n star. And yes, I know the information is stale. I saw it for the first time this morning.
Blog City had many positive aspects, and several glaring drawbacks, which is kind of the reason I left. Well, that and the wonderful Pixy Misa. Anyway, one thing that worked flawlessly for me was the Sitemeter hits. I installed in into the main page and all pages that got hit were tagged, including archived hits. I moved over here and my counts dropped precipitously. Even when the puppy blending Traffic Fairy through people my way, I didn't get the visitors I was expecting, not even the Google traffic. Then Life Trek happened to mention in my comments here that I needed to add the Sitemeter to my archived pages. D'oh! Big difference in traffic. Sunday is a slow day in general, and I've already received about 50% more hits today than usual. No telling how many visitors I missed along the way. Oh well, things can only look up. Right?
Were you born in the Year of the Ass? Consult the Animal Calendar to find out!
Year of the Cock:
Those born in this year tend to be the most aggressively abusive denizens of the office. Their evil crowing is ubiquitous, and they tend to regard all others as born in the year of the hen, and often become executives or partners in law offices. Watch out for the ones born on the cusp of the Year of the Ass!
The Year of the Maggot:
These specimens usually become the bitterest of bitter clerks, often degenerating into paralegals in the terminal stages. The maggot yearns to rise up and cast down his masters, yet he knows he never will.
Year of the Sheep:
Prime exponents of the herd mentality. See them demonstrate loyalty. See them worship the corporate ethic. See them get laid off!
Year of the Weasel:
These are the true rodents. They're stroking you with one hand and stabbing you in the back with the other. Those who lack the ethics for child molesting often go into human resources.
Year of the Cockroach:
The geek of the corporate world. His self-esteem is so non-existent that he finds the most humiliating abuse elevating. It takes all kinds to fill out the circle of life, so go ahead and crap all over him. It's your cosmic duty.
Year of the Hen:
Another creature that finds the meaning of life in denigration, except this one is often overpaid and still enjoys stomping the few available lower forms of life, such as the cockroach. For details, see dictionary under *legal secretary.*
Year of the Snake:
Always eager to feast on the still-twitching corpse of a co-worker, the Snake attempts to slither over the remains of other middle managers into positions of real power but is often mashed to jelly by Asses and Cocks.
Year of Dung Beetle:
This miserable creature actually enjoys and takes pride in meaningless, rote tasks--the only things he can do right. He often rants about powerful spreadsheet and databases programs, but carries an enormous day planner/address book with no entries in it.
Year of the Squid:
The multi-talented but oily-textured Squid is usually found in engineering programming areas. The squid's numerous limbs allow him to accomplish many tasks while still reserving one arm to jerk off with.
Year of the Ass:
True to his name, this one usually gravitates towards sales, politics, and other forms of aggressive parasitism. The braying of the ass fills the halls of power, yet many of this species never go farther than the corner liquor store. The blade of Karma is razor sharp.
Year of the Sea Cucumber Blenny.
In nature, this small fish establishes a symbiosis by living in the anus of the sea cucumber. In the business world, the blenny is usually an executive *assistant,* maintaining an affinity for the far reaches of the Ass.
Which year were you born in ?
Cock: years end in 0 (i.e. 1960), Maggot:1, Sheep: 2, Weasel:3,
Cockroach:4, Hen:5, Snake:6, Dung Beetle: 7, Squid: 8,
Ass: 9, Blenny: Leap Year.
1) Dress up in Cookie Monster costume, jump out from bushes and yell, "Hmmm me want COOKIE!"
2) Ask for bizarre types of cookies like Garlic Mints or Pork Cremes.
3) Sample one and exclaim, "This doesn't taste anything like Girl Scout!"
4) Make a mobile of children's skulls from your local medical supply
warehouse. Decorate it with Girl Scout berets and merit badges.
5) Two words - pit bulls!
6) Become sexually offended at every cookie offered to you. ("Shortbread?
What are you implying? I'm as functional as any other man! Thin mints?! Are you saying I'm not buff?")
7) Save up all the cookies you bought last year. When they come by this
time, offer to sell them your cookies first.
8) "I'd love to buy your cookies, but the court order prevents me from
coming within 50 yards of children under the age of 17."
9) Ask what sort of credit plans they have.
10) When they knock on the door, give them candy and say how you love their
11) Dress your own kids up in severe military uniforms and have them answer
the door. Try to sell the Scouts some Hitler Youth cookies.
12) Invite them in for a sleepover. Don't take no for an answer. (Works
best if you're Michael Jackson)
13) Women, answer the door wearing your old Girl Scout uniform. Pull out
your 15-year old leftover cookies and excitedly offer to help with the fundraising.
14) Ask where the rest of the Spice Girls are.
15) Snap their training bras from behind. Or from the front.
16) Put mirrors conspicuously on the tips of your shoes and ask the little
girls to step a few feet closer.
17) Scream that you're a diabetic and you'll sue their parents for
threatening your health.
18) Have your anorexia support group meet at your house and greet the
little ones. ("COOKIES! COOKIES? Look how fat I am already!")
19) Have your bulimia support group meet at your house and greet the little
ones. ("Mmmm cookies! I just have to make some room for cookies!"
*BLEEEAAAAACHHHH!* "I'll take six boxes, now.")
20) Interrogate the girls about their religious and political preferences.
("Are you a commie? Ever have any abortions? You're not gay, are you?")
21) Scream about your pending lawsuit with the Girl Scout cookie manufacturers. ("You can't come within 100 yards of me with the litigation pending! I still have hives from those chocolate wafers! My lawyer will hear about this!")
22) Answer the door nude. (Oops, you're supposed to only do that to
23) Cover the doorbell with tree sap or boogers, or vaseline.
24) Answer the door in full HAZ-MAT gear and spray them with disinfectant
foam. ("Johnson, quick, we have to burn the porch!")
25) Light yourself on fire and dive at them. You can only do this once.
26) "Cookies? Cookies? My grandmother baked me cookies just before she
(break down sobbing) ... before she... she..."
27) Thrust graphic pictures of caged animals in their faces. ("How many
kittens died for your chocolate sandwich cookies???")
28) "I used to sell Girl Scout Cookies. Do they still beat you if you don't
sell all of them?"
29) With every sales pitch, try to convert the Scouts to Jehovah's
witnesses. ("Want some cookies?" "Have you found grace in our Lord Jesus Christ?")
30) Whip out your cell phone and pretend to call the Child Labor Welfare
Association. Examine the girls for signs of abuse.
31) Offer jobs to the Girl Scouts to come make Nikes in Guatemala for five
cents a day.
32) Demand to taste a cookie before buying a box. Then say something
totally bizzare. (e.g., Lick a thin mint and say, "Hmmm, too many peanuts.")
33) Demand to taste a cookie, and fake a seizure or allergic reaction. ("Oh
shit! You mean these have sugar in them??" *GGURGGG*)
34) Tell them you don't buy Girl Scout cookies due to your religious
beliefs and slam the door.
35) Loudly exclaim to your spouse in background, "Look, they're selling
flavored suppositories! And they come in chocolate, too! Won't the grandkids be pleased!"
36) Hang a huge crucifix on the door, with Jesus dressed up in a miniature
Girl Scout uniform.
37) Just mount a whole child's skeleton on the door, dressed up in a Girl
38) Pour fresh concrete on your porch and don't set up any signs.
39) Begin shooting wildly when they approach the porch. ("You'll never take
me alive! Not you or the black copters or anybody!")
40) Leave jack-o-lanterns from last Halloween on the porch. Of course, this
works much better in the summer.
41) Act perfectly normal, except for the fact that you're dry-humping a
beanie baby during the entire solicitation.
42) "Me Tarzan, you Girl Scout! We go make hot monkey cookie love!"
43) Carry out entire sale doing your best Bobcat Golthwait impression.
44) Act if one perfectly normal ingredient is the most erotic thing on
earth. ("Does it have... raisins... in it? Ooooh, I just love raisins... Do your parents know you've been selling... raisins?")
45) Lick you fingers as if you've been eating chicken, then gradually
proceed to groom yourself like a cat.
46) Answer the door like a hyperactive retard. ("EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" *leaping
up and down* "I wanna cookie! COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE!")
47) Dub a tape of Ice T rapping "Kill Da Cookie-Pushin' Girl Scout
Bitches". Play it very, very loudly on your stereo system.
48) Put on an adult-size uniform and try to recruit the girls away from
their current den mother.
49) Stand at the door and leer at them. Just leer. Don't say a word.
50) Shoot one of them point blank in the head. Scream "OH MY GOD, I KILLED
KENNY!" at the top of your lungs and wait three seconds. If any are still
standing there, repeat.
51) Just let them know how crappy and overpriced the damn things are.
My wife and I very much appreciated all of the well wishes and prayers. It means a great deal to us both. She's home and recovering nicely under my care.
Thanks again. To everyone.
My wife goes in for surgery tomorrow, albeit of a relatively minor kind. Being the professional worrier that I am, I'm stressing out a bit over the hazards of general anesthesia. Internally, of course, since I remain upbeat for the missus. Any kind thoughts or prayers tomorrow would be greatly appreciated.
A New York judge has ruled that DMV cannot proceed with a plan to revoke the licenses of illegal immigrants, or people who used fraudulent Social Security numbers. Uh huh. Not surprisingly, this ruling is being appealed.
Be afraid. Very afraid.
Anyone ever been asked to read Who Moved My Cheese? It's a story that was concocted by corporate bigwigs to make you "think of the possibilities" when you're losing your job due to outsourcing, downsizing et al. Anyway, the author of this article talks about the head-up-the-ass mentality infecting corporate America today. Excerpt:
In my particular case, my entire cheese supply has been shredded and shipped to Canada. In many cases, it's India.
That's right, I am a victim of the outsourcing fad that has taken this country by storm. Not only was my job replaced, but I was also asked to train my cheaper, offshore replacement so that he could do my job. Incredibly, I was expected to be happy about it. I was encouraged to put on rose colored glasses and look forward to being "freed up" to do "other things with my life". On a daily basis I was told by management that, despite any emotions I was having about this change, now is an important time to "stay focused" on my job. The CIO actually sent out an e-mail advising us all to "avoid participating in any resistance". Thanks, Mayor McCheese, I'll try not to.
When I first was told I was going to be outsourced, the boss above mine suggested that I read "Who Moved My Cheese" by Spencer Johnson to deal with the monumental change. Considering the circumstances, not only was this insulting, it was insensitive to the gravity of the situation. What was the goal here? It was to "help" me accept was happening, comply with it and begin to view the shady state of affairs as "a positive". Really, this is like handing me a map of Stepford, a glass of water and a couple of pills so that I can start making myself at home in my new town. I mean, maybe if I just stop and think about the positives of living in Stepford, I won't mind that someone moved me there and I'll grow to love it!
That's alright. I prefer to keep my brain functions, thank you.
Memo to Jim Lampley: when Michael Moore sounds more sensible than you do on a particular subject, it's a sign that you are in dire need of serious medication. Excerpt:
At 5:00 p.m. Eastern time on Election Day, I checked the sportsbook odds in Las Vegas and via the offshore bookmakers to see the odds as of that moment on the Presidential election. John Kerry was a two-to-one favorite. You can look it up.
People who have lived in the sports world as I have, bettors in particular, have a feel for what I am about to say about this: these people are extremely scientific in their assessments. These people understand which information to trust and which indicators to consult in determining where to place a dividing line to influence bets, and they are not in the business of being completely wrong. Oddsmakers consulted exit polling and knew what it meant and acknowledged in their oddsmaking at that moment that John Kerry was winning the election.
And he most certainly was, at least if the votes had been fairly and legally counted. What happened instead was the biggest crime in the history of the nation, and the collective media silence which has followed is the greatest fourth-estate failure ever on our soil.
For the record, I always thought it was the actual votes that indicated who actually won an election, rather than who pollsters thought would win. My bad. I guess by Lampley's rationale, McGovern kicked Nixon's ass.
Thomas Sowell has another winner today. Excerpt:
Recently a friend described a meeting with a nasty-tempered leftist who was from a rich family. Unfortunately, there are a lot of leftists who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth -- and, instead of being grateful, are venomous against American society.
Conversely, there are people like yours truly who were born on the other end of the economic scale and think this is a great country. No one has really explained either of these phenomena.
Maybe a painful confrontation with the facts of life early on makes it harder in later years to get all worked up over abstract issues that seem to preoccupy the left.
Once you have ever had to go hungry, it is hard to get worked up over the fact that some people can only afford pizza while others can afford caviar. Once you have ever had to walk to work from Harlem to a factory south of the Brooklyn Bridge, the difference between driving a Honda and driving a Lexus seems kind of petty as well.
Bob goes into the public restroom and sees this guy standing next to the urinal. The guy has no arms. As Bob's standing there, taking care of business, he wonders to himself how the poor wretch is going to take a leak. Bob finishes and starts to leave when the man asks Bob to help him out. Being a kind soul, Bob says, "Ah, OK, sure, I'll help you."
The man asks, "Can you unzip my zipper?"
Bob says, "OK."
Then the man says, "Can you pull it out for me?"
Bob replies, "Uh, yeah, OK."
Bob pulls it out and it has all kinds of mold and red bumps, with hair clumps, rashes, moles, scabs, scars, and reeks something awful. Then the guy asks Bob to point it for him, and Bob points for him. Bob then shakes it, puts it back in and zips it up.
The guy tells Bob, "Thanks, man, I really appreciate it."
Bob says, "No problem, but what the hell's wrong with your penis?"
The guy pulls his arms out of his shirt and says, "I don't know, but I ain't touching it."
Sven and Ollie were walking downtown when ole looks at some boats tied to the dock and says, "You know Sven, I built all those boats there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the boat-builder"."
"Yah," says Sven.
So the two men walk a little farther, and Ollie sees at a row of houses built on the fjord and says, "You know Sven, I built all those houses there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the house-builder"."
"Yah," says Sven.
So the two men walk even farther, and Ollie notices a row of cabinets in one of the local shop windows and says, "You know Sven, I built all those cabinets there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the cabinet-maker"."
"Yah," says Sven. "You fuck one pig...."
There once was a lawyer who was so fanatical about his golf game that he used to play every day. One morning he had played the first hole and was just about to tee off on the second, when he saw the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen putting on the first. The lawyer waited until the woman had reached the second tee and asked if she would like to join him and they could finish the round together. To his surprise the woman agreed and they played the remaining holes. Not only was this woman beautiful, she was also a good golfer.
When they completed their round, the lawyer told the woman that, not only was he a lawyer, but he was also a cordon bleu chef and wine buff.
He invited her back to his place for a meal and a few drinks. The woman accepted enthusiastically and off they went.
Back at the house the lawyer cooked a magnificent meal. In fact it was more than just cooking it was a performance to behold. They enjoyed good food, good wine and good conversation.
After the meal, the woman repaid the lawyer with the best oral sex he had ever experienced. The lawyer was so taken by the beauty and skill of this woman and desired her no end. He then asked if she would like to play golf the following morning, to which she agreed.
Once again they enjoyed a great game of golf, a magnificent evening meal and once more the woman performed sensational oral sex on the lawyer.
This went on for three weeks when the lawyer finally said to the woman, "Listen, the golf and the company have been fantastic! But, there are only so many performances a man can take. When are we going to have sexual intercourse?"
"We can't," said the woman.
"Why not?" came the reply.
"Because I'm a transvestite" replied the woman.
"YOU BITCH!" screamed the lawyer, "...I CAN'T BELIEVE that you've been playing off the LADIES TEE FOR THE LAST THREE WEEKS!"
Or a Monty Python parody. Your call.
And here's where I buried the lede, way deep: Melissa is pregnant. She's due in December. We have a tiny little vodkaswiller on the way, to be delivered undoubtedly by a schnockered stork.
So if I'm still not thrilled with blogging, it's for damn sure I'm thrilled about something.
I'm going to be a daddy.
I can't wait.
Congratulations, Stephen. Your life is about to change in ways you can only dimly imagine, and they're all good.
I received the following set of images via email. Should such a woman ever darken your door, my advice is for you to run. Fast.
Click on the extended link to see more.
Of course I missed this. Of course I did. Bah!
1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.
2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of four.
4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
6. You go home after a long day at work, you still answer the phone in a business manner.
7. You make phone calls from home, you accidentally dial "9" to get an outside line.
8. You've sat at the same desk for four years and worked for three different companies.
10. You learn about your redundancy on the 11 o'clock news.
11. Your boss doesn't have the ability to do your job.
12. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
13. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.
14. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
15. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
16. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. :)
17. You're reading this and nodding and laughing.
18. Even worse, you know exactly to whom you are going to forward this message.
19. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
20. You actually scrolled back up to check that there wasn't a #9 on this list.
Stephen Beaumont offers up some of his random thoughts about beer. Excerpt:
Aftertaste in beer is not a bad thing, it's good. For that matter, so is taste.
You can't crown yourself king of something. That's known as a dictatorship.
Spices, fruit, wood-ageing, quintuple fermentation with multiple strains of yeast: It's all good. Go for it. But try to bear in mind, please, that at the end of the day somebody's got to drink the stuff.
Fruit beer needs to tastes like beer flavoured with fruit. Not vaguely alcoholic-tasting fruit juice.
Needing to be 21 years old to drink makes about as much sense as needing to be 21 to eat chocolate. Both substances are benign if consumed responsibly.
There's more, if you're interested.
Everyone is familiar with the phrase "beer goggle". For some of you this is a painful memory. Turns out that just thinking about beer can make a hand grenade appear more like a 10. Ugh. Excerpt:
New research indicates that the mere suggestion of alcohol may act as an aphrodisiac. "What is most surprising is that mere expectancy can influence perception," said Markus Denzler, of the International University Bremen, Germany, and a co-author of the research report.
The researchers first questioned the men about how they felt alcohol affected their libido, and then presented them with rapidly flashing words and jumbled letters on a computer screen. One group was exposed to cue words that suggested alcohol, including beer, whisky, martini and malt; the other, control group was exposed to words such as smoothie, espresso and ice.
The men then rated 21 female high-school graduation photos on a scale of 1 to 9 in terms of attractiveness. The men who expected alcohol to boost their libido rated photos more favourably after subconsciously viewing alcohol cue words.
DANGER WILL ROBINSON! DANGER! DANGER!
Found the headline pair of the year so far in the Best of the Web:
Business Advice From the New York Times
"Wal-Mart critics often note that corporations like Ford and G.M. led a race to the top, providing high wages and generous benefits that other companies emulated. They ask why Wal-Mart, with some $10 billion in profit on about $288 billion in revenue last year, cannot act similarly."--New York Times, May 4
"Standard & Poor's Ratings Services cut its corporate credit ratings to junk status for both General Motors Corp. (GM) and Ford Motor Co. (F). . . . The decision by one of the nation's most respected ratings agencies comes as the two iconic American automakers are losing market share at home to Asian automakers, seeing sales soften for their most profitable models and are facing enormous health care and post-retirement liabilities."--Associated Press, May 5
It's been a looonnngg while since I've posted a linkfest. Funny how having a second child keeps me busy when I'm at home. Anyway, here goes something:
After reading this short post from Michele, I started wondering how many freaks will come out of the woodwork on June 6 next year.
This week's sign that the Apocalypse is upon us: Baby Got Books. Blame Ace, not me. Oh, and Ace also provides more evidence that Bill Mahrer is steaming pile of pigshit. Not that you didn't know that already. And no offense to pigs, of course.
Anyone can create a sculpture out of marble. You know, chip off a piece here and there until it looks like a cow having an orgasm or something. Harvey points me towards some people with real freaking talent: they build sculptures out of sand. Check out this one.
Claire Wolfe links to a study that proves, uh, beats me. Think I'll go watch some cartoons.
Is "Weird" Al gearing up for another presidential run? Kevin at Wizbang isn't sure. Maybe he's just inventing his next technological marvel. Sure, he created the Internet and all, but what has he done for us lately?
Andrea Harris doesn't think much of the rules that supposedly define blogs. Excerpt:
"Blog" is short for "web log," which term derives from regular record books or "logs," which are a form of journal or diary, and must have at minimum some sort of separation indicator (like a date, usually but not necessarily a permalink) between separate posts, and old posts must be archived in some fashion. Most blogs use some sort of software that enables the user to automatically update and archive his entries; others handcode their sites. But the idea that everyone must uniformly add gewgaws like counters and links to offsite databases that will only slow down their sites and clutter them up with distracting items in order for their sites to be considered a "real blog" is ridiculous, like saying a vehicle without an expensive stereo system and so on is not really a car.
Look up the word "douchebag" in the encyylopedia and I'll bet this guy's picture is there. Excerpt:
That's one reason why Avner is leaving the tiny East County community where he has lived for six years and moving to Washington state. There's not much demand in San Diego County for a computer and electronics technician with tattooed stripes on his face and fangs in his mouth.
No shit. Thanks to Mean Mr. Mustard 2.0 for finding the link.
I have no comment on the article Annie links to in this post. Wait, I do: ugh.
The Donovan offers a WWI era poem as a caption for an image on his site. Quite moving, unless your heart is made of stone.
Darren refers to a story of a guy who lived with a bullet in his head. For 17 years. That's NOT using your head.
You know why I read blogs? Sometimes it's for the people you meet online. Sometimes it's for the humor and ranting. The rest of the time it's because the quality of writing is simply incredible. Go read. Now.
Those of us on the conservative side of the political fence have our own assholes to deal. Thanks, guys. You'v provided an early campaign topic for the Democrats in 2006 ad infinitum. Link via Hog On Ice.
And a double shot from Hog On Ice, mainly because he says what I(and every other red-blooded American) has been thinking:
What is it with Paula Abdul? Most women fall apart in their senior year of college. The rest get immensely fat right after their weddings. Or were ugly to begin with. But Paula looks better at 42 than she did at 30. And that little-girl voice...I'd make her put on a frilly dress and lace panties and patent-leather pumps and talk dirty to me while sucking a giant lollipop. And she's been a bad little girl, so she needs to have her bare bottom spanked.
Moxie writes an open letter to Jennifer, that little dipshit who ran out on her wedding and then inadvertently sicced the police and FBI on her fiance by claiming to have been kidnapped. Good thing she didn't actually die or he'd be facing murder one charges. Excerpt: Call ME. I will tell you why. In fact, I’ll tell you why right now. You’re an idiot.
Here’s what you should have considered: three years after skipping out on your wedding you will be alone on Christmas, eating Chinese food out of the container with a plastic spork. Your 10 cats will be milling around hungry at your feet. You will kick them away and call all your married girlfriends who will be too busy with their kids and husbands. Maybe you will have one or two divorced girlfriends to commiserate with and wonder why you are still single at 37.
Call ME. I will tell you why. In fact, I’ll tell you why right now. You’re an idiot.
Spoons provides more evidence that the gene pool is in serious need of chlorination. Clarence Stowers is complete and total dick.
More from the zero intelligence front courtesy of Kelley.
Okay, I'm done. There just aren't enough hours in the day.
Kelley is back and blogging up a storm. Yay! I have to admit that I had stopped checking her site because it depressed me to see the blank, all-posts-rolled-off front page. Not so blank now, though.
Welcome back, Kelley. You've been missed.
I swear to God, today is the day that I should have skipped reading Harvey's blog. Could be the most asstastic meme, ever. Or at least since the last one I started, but that's another story. Anyway, nothing really gets my creative juices going like the phrase "turd in a punchbowl". Here goes nothing(with many, many apologies to Dylan Thomas):
Do not drop gently into that punchbowl,
Smelly turds should burn and stink at close of day;
Rage, rage against the stinky Tootsie roll.
Though diarrhetic men on their pots create stuff so foul,
Because their bowels had expelled much odor they
Do not drop turds into that punchbowl.
Constipated men, as they waddle by, cry from their souls
That their tight bottoms might have purged on the way,
Rage, rage against the stinky, stinky bole.
Hungover men who caught in the painful light of Sol,
And grimace, too much, with faces like whey,
Do not drop turds into that punchbowl.
Running men, near race end, who plod on their soles
Find port-a-potties to stop them on their way,
Rage, rage against the stinky Tootsie roll.
And you, my father, there on the toilet bowl,
Curse and fart at me now with your fierce excretions, I pray.
Do not drop turds into that punchbowl.
Rage, rage against the stinky Tootsie roll.
Okay, I used a little creative license on the phrase of choice. Sue me.
Yeah, I know, "jump the shark" has jumped the shark. Anyway, it appears that the most used search engine on the planet will start to give preference to the big media types such as CNN and MSNBC. Excerpt:
The largest search engine on the Internet has plans to join the media elite – giving preference to such establishment news agencies as CNN and the BBC in searches over new independent media enterprises.
As Google explains it, the rankings will be "according to quality rather than simply the date and relevance to search terms."
Currently, the company's search engine responds with thousands of "hits" in response to simple entries such as "Iraq," which lead to news websites. These are ranked either in order of relevance or by date, so that the most recent or most focused appear at the top of the huge list.
"This means that articles carrying more authority, say from CNN or the BBC, can be ousted from the first page of results, simply because they are not as recent or as relevant to the keyword entered in the search line," explains a news account in the New Scientist. "Now, Google, whose name has become synonymous with Internet searching, plans to build a database that will compare the track record and credibility of all news sources around the world, and adjust the ranking of any search results accordingly."
In other words, Google is going to be making value judgments about which news organizations are more credible.
I think I'll stick with A9 as my search engine of choice.
I don't know how I missed this contest until now, but I think everyone should enter. More to the point, enter MY name. The more entries I have, the better. The prize:
Trip for two includes:
4 days and 3 nights in London, England
Coach airfare from U.S. to London, England
Hotel Accommodations at The Sanctuary House (based on double-occupancy)
Fuller’s Brewery Tour and Pub Crawl
£1,000 shopping spree
The only caveat is that you have to complete your travel by December 31, 2005. Oh, and entries must be received by May 16, 2005, so get cracking.
Update: Don't forget to enter the Sapporo Cherry Blossom Festival Sweepstakes. Prize: An 8-day/7-night trip for two adults to Tokyo, Japan to celebrate the annual Cherry Blossom Festival between April 1-30, 2006.
Two wiseguys go into a country pub, they call the landlord over and ask him to settle an argument. "Are there two pints in a quart, or four?" asked one.
"There are two pints in a quart" confirmed the landlord.
They moved along the bar to where the barmaid was and she asked for their order. "Two pints please Miss, and they are on the house."
When the barmaid appeared to doubt her boss would dispense free beer, one of the lads called out to the publican at the other end of the bar: "You did say two pints, didn't you?"
"That's right," called the landlord, "Two pints."
Top Ten Signs You've Purchased A Bad Beer
10. TV Ads Begin "From the sparkling waters of Lake Erie ..."
9. The second you take a sip, your liver explodes
8. For some reason, it's sold in the detergent aisle
7. It was actually brewed by Penny Marshall and Cindy Williams
6. Instead of a wagon pulled by Clydesdales, beer company has a wheelbarrow pushed by a doped-up monkey
5. The company isn't running any sort of sweepstakes, but the underside of the bottle caps all say "Sorry"
4. Tastes more like a mountain goat than a mountain stream
3. Picture on label is of a guy throwing up
2. Your girlfriend announces she's leaving you for Billy Dee Williams
1. When you crack a couple open on a fishing trip and say, "It doesn't get any better than this," your buddies kill themselves
Want more? Then go here.
I've just added Hatrack River, the official website for Orson Scott Card. Why? A couple of reasons:
1) Ender's Game is a tremendous novel. I absolutely loved it. And more importantly
2) Card lives in my old hometown, the place where I grew up: Greensboro, NC.
Orson Scott Card has another column out at The Ornery American. He offers some pretty sage advice. Excerpt: We of my generation were raised by anxious, guilt-ridden parents. They grew up in the Depression and lived through World War II. They knew what it was to be poor, to be broke, to be hungry; they knew better than to ask their parents for a thing, because there was no money. Their idea of a date was to take the streetcar to get an ice cream. Their idea of a party was to stand around a piano and sing the latest hit songs together. Their idea of a great Christmas present was a jacket that hadn't been worn by an older sibling. And they were grimly determined that their children would lack for nothing. So we -- their spoiled baby-boom children -- grew up with a weird combination of being spoiled rotten while being made to feel guilty about it. "Eat this huge plate of food. Children are starving in China." "What do you mean you don't like hot cereal? When I was a kid I went without breakfast and hot cereal was a luxury." "You better enjoy this vacation in Disneyland. Your father had to work two weeks to pay for it." "You're whining because you have the best health care money can buy? When I was a kid with a toothache, my dad just pulled it out because we couldn't afford a dentist." "Look at our big new color television! When we were kids, we had to sit and look at the walls and hum, because we couldn't even afford a radio." Free Spirits So when we of the Baby Boom generation got married, we were determined (a) to make sure our kids had every single thing their hearts could conceive of desiring (because we felt so guilty) and to make sure they never felt bad about having it (because we hated feeling so guilty). Weren't we the love generation? Our children would know nothing but peace and love. We would take their side in every dispute at school. We would never make them follow silly rules. We would never say, "Because I said so!" They would be free spirits! OK, well, now they are. And it's terrifying, isn't it? Our kids go out there and we don't know where they're going, what they're doing, whom they're with, when they'll get back, and whether they'll get pregnant, get date-raped, pick up some hideous incurable disease, o.d. on drugs, or get killed in a gang-related shooting.
So much of parenting is about guilt.
We of my generation were raised by anxious, guilt-ridden parents. They grew up in the Depression and lived through World War II. They knew what it was to be poor, to be broke, to be hungry; they knew better than to ask their parents for a thing, because there was no money.
Their idea of a date was to take the streetcar to get an ice cream. Their idea of a party was to stand around a piano and sing the latest hit songs together. Their idea of a great Christmas present was a jacket that hadn't been worn by an older sibling.
And they were grimly determined that their children would lack for nothing.
So we -- their spoiled baby-boom children -- grew up with a weird combination of being spoiled rotten while being made to feel guilty about it.
"Eat this huge plate of food. Children are starving in China."
"What do you mean you don't like hot cereal? When I was a kid I went without breakfast and hot cereal was a luxury."
"You better enjoy this vacation in Disneyland. Your father had to work two weeks to pay for it."
"You're whining because you have the best health care money can buy? When I was a kid with a toothache, my dad just pulled it out because we couldn't afford a dentist."
"Look at our big new color television! When we were kids, we had to sit and look at the walls and hum, because we couldn't even afford a radio."
So when we of the Baby Boom generation got married, we were determined (a) to make sure our kids had every single thing their hearts could conceive of desiring (because we felt so guilty) and to make sure they never felt bad about having it (because we hated feeling so guilty).
Weren't we the love generation? Our children would know nothing but peace and love. We would take their side in every dispute at school. We would never make them follow silly rules. We would never say, "Because I said so!"
They would be free spirits!
OK, well, now they are. And it's terrifying, isn't it? Our kids go out there and we don't know where they're going, what they're doing, whom they're with, when they'll get back, and whether they'll get pregnant, get date-raped, pick up some hideous incurable disease, o.d. on drugs, or get killed in a gang-related shooting.
Well worth reading the rest.
Anyone that knows me personally can attest to the fact that I hate chain emails. My family and friends know better than to send such drivel. Should I actually receive any such garbage, I do the following: if the email is funny, interesting, or just plain twisted, I gladly forward it to people(blind copied, of course), removing all of the "please forward to 10 people so that blah blah blah". Most times I just delete it. However, I finally received one that's worthy of publishing. It's rude, crude and socially unacceptable, just like me. If you're easily offended, skip the rest of this post and go over to a kinder, gentler site like the Emperor's.
Please read this before you delete this... if you're tired of internet chain letters, you'll get a kick out of this!
FINALLY A CHAIN LETTER THAT I LIKE! :)
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 fucking 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, I'll get laid by every Playboy model in the magazine! What a bunch of bullshit. So basically, this message is a big FUCK YOU 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.
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 fucking 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 FOUR BASIC TYPES OF CHAIN LETTERS:
Chain Letter Type 1:
Make a wish!!!
No, really, go on and make one!!!
Oh please, they'll never go out with you!!!
Wish something else!!!
Not that, you pervert!!
Is your finger getting tired yet?
Wasn't that fun? :)
Hope you made a great wish :)
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. It's true! Because, THIS letter isn't like those fake ones, THIS one is TRUE!!
Really!!! Here's how it goes:
*Send this to 1 person: One person will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.
*Send this to 2-5 people: 2-5 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.
*Send this to 5-10 people: 5-10 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter, and may form a plot on your life.
*Send this to 10-20 people: 10-20 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter and will napalm your house.
Thanks!!!! Good Luck!!!
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.
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.
Chain Letter Type 4
As if you care, here is a poem that I wrote. Send it to every one of your friends.
A friend is someone who is always at your side, A friend is someone who likes you even though you stink of shit, and your breath smells like you've been eating catfood, A friend is someone who likes you even though you're as ugly as a hat full of assholes, A friend is someone who cleans up for you after you've soiled yourself, A friend is someone who stays with you all night while you cry about your sad, sad life, A friend is someone who pretends they like you when they really think you should be raped by mad goats, then thrown to vicious dogs, A friend is someone who scrubs your toilet, vacuums and then gets the check and leaves and doesn't speak much English...
* no, sorry that's the cleaning lady,
A friend is not someone who sends you chain letters because he wants his wish of being rich to come true.
Now pass this on! If you don't, you'll never have sex ever again.
The 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 Miranda.
Now forward this to everyone that you know otherwise you'll find all your knickers missing tomorrow morning.
Then check out this site, which is just chock full of vintage arcade games. Brings back memories of my days as a vidiot. No Missile Command, though. The bastards.
Link stolen shamelessly from the Puppy Blender.
Be certain to check out the MuNu blogs in the drop-down menu.
Mindles H. Dreck explains it well. I'm tired of trying to explain the Ponzi scheme known as SSN to people who take pride in being willfully ignorant. Besides, he has all those pretty pictures to go along with his discussion.
Who's afraid of outsourcing when jobs like this are to be found?
And here it is, courtesy of Jeff.
Orson Scott Card, a writer I respect for many reasons, not least of which is that he currently lives in the city of my birth, speaks what can only be considered blasphemy: he thinks it's good that Star Trek is dead. Excerpt: They tried it before, remember. The network flushed William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy down into the great septic tank of broadcast waste, from which no traveler…. No, wait, let's get this right: from which rotting ideas and aging actors return with depressing regularity. It was the fans who saved "Star Trek" from oblivion. They just wouldn't let go. This was in the days before VCRs, and way before DVDs. You couldn't go out and buy the boxed set of all three seasons. When a show was canceled, the only way you could see it again was if some local station picked it up in syndication. A few stations did just that. And the hungry fans called their friends and they watched it faithfully. They memorized the episodes. I swear I've heard of people who quit their jobs and moved just so they could live in a city that had "Star Trek" running every day. And then the madness really got underway.
So they've gone and killed "Star Trek." And it's about time.
They tried it before, remember. The network flushed William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy down into the great septic tank of broadcast waste, from which no traveler…. No, wait, let's get this right: from which rotting ideas and aging actors return with depressing regularity.
It was the fans who saved "Star Trek" from oblivion. They just wouldn't let go.
This was in the days before VCRs, and way before DVDs. You couldn't go out and buy the boxed set of all three seasons. When a show was canceled, the only way you could see it again was if some local station picked it up in syndication.
A few stations did just that. And the hungry fans called their friends and they watched it faithfully. They memorized the episodes. I swear I've heard of people who quit their jobs and moved just so they could live in a city that had "Star Trek" running every day.
And then the madness really got underway.
Madness? What is this madness of which he speaks? You'll have to speak up; I'm wearing my Klingon ears.
Well, this comic seems appropriate now that the MSM seems hell-bent on portraying all D&D'ers as pedophiles. Click on extended entry:
I had to skip last year's GABF due to the impending birth of my second child. There won't be a repeat skip this year; my wife is not pregnant. Anyway, GABF 2005 will be held the weekend of 9/29-10/1. I will, once again, be a volunteer for the brew crew. Basically, I will pour beer about 40% of the time, chit-chat 30% of the time and drink beer 100% of the time. Volunteering gets you in free, you get to meet other beer lovers and, well, you get to drink lots of great beer. Tough to top that. Any bloggers interested in meeting up at this year's GABF? It'll be a lot of fun and it would be kind of cool to meet some other social retards IRL.
If you're interested, drop by Beertown and register to volunteer for the Brew Crew.
Time to start scouring the web for cheap tickets. My best deal to date is $229 round-trip from Richmond. Gonna be tough to beat that this year, but I'll give it a go. Having Air Tran enter RIC this month will help.
I take a week off and what do I miss? Not Exactly Rocket Science hosts this week's Carnival of the Recipes. That'll teach me not to take vacation. Or not.
If Michele wants us to play, who am I to say no?
"Chick flicks" movies that I, a guy, love:
Children of a Lesser God(shut up)
When Harry Met Sally
Sleepless In Seattle
An Officer and A Gentleman
Four Weddings and a Funeral
The Princess Bride(I'm not convinced that this is actually a chick flick since I've read the book, but I'll play along)
The Truth About Cats and Dogs
“Guy” movies that I, a guy, do not like:
Movies that I, as a hardened, cynical, unfeeling, soulless person tend to break down in tears while watching:
The Green Mile
Dead Poets Society
Terms of Endearment
Brian's Song(original version, not the abortive remake)
It's a Wonderful Life
One Flew Over a Cuckoo's Nest
I volunteer to be a field op to test this theory. Excerpt:
We already know that beer doesn't actually make you fat but rather fights cancer while promoting world peace and understanding and a brighter future for all our children.
It's no surprise then that we can now confirm what the super-intelligent if somehat wobbly hacks at Vulture Central have known for years: alcohol makes you cleverer.
Some vaguely amusing video snippets.
Okay, 11 days late. What's your point? Anyway, I have to link to this "story".
And yes, I know the Puppy Blender linked to it already.