Your monoey, your time. It all counts.
Over at Wizbang, Paul gives us glimpse from the inside, and some good advice to boot:
If you do something to help the victims, ping this post... If there is a lot of people helping out, Kevin will set up a post with the links. (I just volunteered him ;)
Think about it for a second from my chair... (I'm not whining but) I'm almost 40 years old.... Here is the sum total of all my worldly possessions: 4 pairs of shorts, 5 shirts, 2 pairs of shoes, 4 pairs of underwear, 1 pair of blue jeans, a box of family pictures, 2 flashlights, a piece of trench art my grandfather brought back from WWI and my father's hammer. (Hey, it means a lot to me!) That's it. Everything else is gone. And BTW, I'm unemployed.
I tell you that not to whine but to let you see the tree thru the forest. Multiply my situation by about a million. Stop and think about that... A million people homeless and unemployed.
If you're a blogger then (by near definition) you're a self proclaimed talented person. Prove it. They'll be plenty of time for punditry and pontification next month... In the mean time there is work to be done. Figure out how to help the victims.
Please (for the sake of all of us who actually understand the situation) please stop whining about the evacuation. It was a stunning success. Please stop saying that the levee at 17th street and Canal St. broke... There's no such place. (and no, FOXNews, even if there was such a place, I assure you, it would be on the south side of the lake and not the north side of the lake where you showed it on your map)
So here it is in a nutshell... Let's get some work done and play Monday morning quarterback sometime in early 2006. There's about million or so of us who would prefer it that way.
Glenn Reynolds and Michelle Malkin have a multitude of links to help the disaster victims. And Capital One is hosting another telethon this Friday, September 2, much like they did after 9/11 and the tsunami. If you're not sure where to send your money, they might be able to help.
They're from the government and they're here to help you.
Yeah, sure they are.
An outstanding warrant for a f**king seatbelt violation? WTF?!
The World's most avid baseball fan, a blond, had arrived early at the stadium for the first game of the World Series only to realize that she had left her ticket at home. Not wanting to miss any of the first inning, she went to the ticket booth and got in a long line for another seat. After an hour's wait she was just a few feet from the booth when a voice called out, "Hey, Linda!"
She looked up, stepped out ofline and tried to find the owner of the voice -- with no success. Then she realized she had lost her place in the line, and had to go back to the end of the line and wait all over again.
After she had purchased her ticket, she was thirsty, so she went to buy a drink. The line at the concession stand was also very long. But since the game hadn't started she decided to wait. Just as she got to the window, a voice called out "Hey, Linda!"
Again she tried to find the voice and got out of line as she wandered looking for the owner of the voice. But no luck. She was very upset as she got back in line for her drink.
Finally she had her drink and took her seat eager for the game to begin. As she waited for the first pitch, she heard the voice calling, "Hey, Linda!" once more.
Furious, she stood up and yelled a the top of her lungs:
"My name isn't Linda!"|
Cross-posted at Madfish Willies.
You're going to need all the help you can get. Right now, Divine Intervention is about all that stands between you and the creation of Lake New Orleans.
I go away on vacation for a couple of days, heading to a place where I purposely wouldn't watch television. When I left, Katrina was a TD/ Cat-1 hurricane getting ready to irritate the tip of Florida. When I arrived back home, Katrina had become Camille on steroids, bearing down on the Big Easy. The #3 scenario of the worst disasters this country might face(SF earthquake and terrorist attack on NYC being the others) is about to become a reality. This is likely to be the worst natural disaster this country has ever faced.
Update: Katrina veered east near the last minute and New Orleans, while suffering significant destruction, will survive. This time. Maybe now is a good time to start working on some protective measures.
2 c Milk
1 t Cinnamon
1/4 t Salt
2/3 c Brown sugar
1/2 t Ginger
2 ea Eggs, slightly beaten
1 1/2 c Cooked pumpkin, fresh or canned
3/4 c Flour
3 T Shortening
1/2 t Salt
1 1/2 c Grated cheese
2 T Cold water
Sift flour, measure, and sift with salt. Cut in shortening and cheese with 2 spatulas. Work water in lightly with spatula until little balls of dough just hang together in one large ball. Turn onto lightly floured board.
Roll in sheet 1/8 inch thick. Shape pastry to fit pie pan. Combine ingredients for filling. Mix thoroughly. Pour into pastry-lined pan. Bake in hot oven (425 F) about 25 minutes, or until an inserted knife comes out clean.
I am not sure exactly how it works, but this is amazingly accurate. Read the full description before looking at the picture.
The picture below has 2 identical dolphins in it. It was used in a case study on stress level at St. Mary's Hospital. Look at both dolphins jumping out of the water. The dolphins are identical.
A closely monitored, scientific study of a group revealed that in spite of the fact that the dolphins are identical, a person under stress would find differences in the two dolphins. If there are many differences found between both dolphins, it means that the person is experiencing a great amount of stress.
Look at the photograph in the extended entry and if you find more than one or two differences, you may want to take a vacation.
No Need to Reply, I'll be on Vacation.
And as your reward, here's another rotten joke:
A couple had been debating the purchase of a new auto for weeks. He wanted a new truck. She wanted a fast little sports-like car so she could zip through traffic around town.
He would probably have settled on any beat up old truck, but everything she seemed to like was way out of their price range.
"Look," she said, "I want something that goes from 0 to 200 in 4 seconds or less. And my birthday is coming up. You could surprise me."
For her birthday, he bought her a brand new bathroom scale.
**** Services will be at Downing Funeral Home on Monday the 12th. Due to the condition of the body, this will be a closed casket service. Please send your donations to the 'Think Before You Say Things To Your Wife'
foundation, Dallas, Texas.
Now THAT'S a gun.
Saw this post by Bill Quick and had to start some relaxation techniques to prevent an aneurysm.
I know, it's only 99.9999% of the lawyers out there that give the rest of them a bad name.
Can still be pretty damned funny, to me anyway. Looks like Justice Souter's home might still get plowed under. Excerpt:
Logan [the developer] will visit Weare, New Hampshire from August 20th to the 23rd. He will talk to local supporters who are planning to use ballot initiatives to seize the land at 34 Cilley Hill Road and clear away other local laws that may hinder the project. It appears that an initiative can be placed on the March 2006 Weare N.H. ballot with only 25 signatures and can win with between 1,020 and 2,777 votes. Whoever said this project "will never happen" might find themself sitting in the Just Deserts Cafe eating crow pie next to David Souter.
Freestar Media will hold an open meeting to discuss the Lost Liberty Hotel project on Monday August 22nd at the Radisson Hotel at 700 Elm Street, Manchester NH 03101. Mention "The Lost Liberty Hotel project" for $1 parking. The meeting will go from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm in salon D. Logan will discuss the purpose of the project and why it is an important step in the struggle against statism. Free copies of Ayn Rand's revolutionary capitalist manifesto ATLAS SHRUGGED will be provided to the first 25 people who attend.
Thanks to Claire Wolfe for the link.
Unrelated update: If you're not reading Backwoods Home Magazine, you're doing yourself a disservice. This article alone contains lots of useful information to help prepare you for the future. I've been reading Claire's Hardeyville columns since she was writing for WND and they're always entertaining and educational.
Neal Boortz has a good thing going with his Redneck Scrapbook, but I think that he's missed a few good photos. Case in point:
Some assembly required
Misha links to an update on the Kelo decision that raised my blood pressure to dangerous levels. It's not enough that New London can steal private property(with special thanks to SCOTUS). No, now the city is going to sue for back rent from the people. How? You might well ask. Turns out that the city didn't wait for a final court decision, but rather went ahead and condemned the houses, thereby taking fucking ownership and leaving the rightful owners with, well, dick.
1) City tries to buy houses;people won't sell and the city tries to claim it via eminent domain, although there isn't a lick of public usage in the taking.
2) Homeowners battle through the courts. Before a final decision is reached, the city steals the property from underneath them
3) Court rules in favor of New London, who now sues the former owners for back rent.
4) Satan prepares a new wing in Hell for the city owners and current SCOTUS members.
I'm waiting for the day when that wing fills up. It can't come soon enough, as far as I'm concerned.
Update: Received the following from a friend of mine.
Actual quote from one of the USSC justices:
"Not only are we going to take homes in New London, we're going to take property in South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico! We're going to screw ‘em over in California and Texas and New York! And we're going to extend our power in South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan! And then we're going to Washington, D.C. & take back the White House, YEEEAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
Pretty much sums it up, doesn't it?
Jeff Goldstein put up a poll to determine whether or not he's too profane. Personally, I consider a day without a dick/fart joke to be a waste of time.
Flight information available here.
At the bottom of the screen click on "rows" in this order 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 (Hurley's numbers) for a teaser trailer for season 2.
As this story aptly demonstrates, the French are still the best in the world at running away.
Received via email...
Three men are sitting stiffly side by side on a long commercial flight. After they're airborne and the plane has leveled off, the man in the window seat abruptly says, distinctly and confidently, in a loud voice, "Admiral, United States Navy, retired. Married, two sons, both surgeons."
After a few minutes the man in the aisle seat states through a tight lipped smile, "Admiral, United States Coast Guard, retired. Married, two sons, both judges."
After some thought, the fellow in the center seat decides to introduce himself. With a twinkle in his eye he proclaims, "Master Chief, United States Navy, retired. Never married, two sons . . both Admirals. "
During training exercises, the lieutenant who was driving down a muddy back road encountered another car stuck in the mud with a red-faced colonel at the wheel. "Your jeep stuck, sir?" asked the lieutenant as he pulled alongside.
"Nope," replied the colonel, coming over and handing him the keys, "Yours is."
Having just moved into his new office, a pompous, new colonel was sitting at his desk when an airman knocked on the door. Conscious of his new position, the colonel quickly picked up the phone, told the airman to enter, then said into the phone, "Yes, General, I'll be seeing him this afternoon and I'll pass along your message. In the meantime, thank you for your good wishes, sir."
Feeling as though he had sufficiently impressed the young enlisted man, he asked, "What do you want?"
"Nothing important, sir," the airman replied, "I'm just here to hook up your telephone."
Officer: "Soldier, do you have change for a dollar?"
Soldier: "Sure, buddy."
Officer: "That's no way to address an officer! Now let's try it again, Soldier. Do you have change for a dollar?"
Soldier: "No, SIR!"
Q: How do you know if there is a fighter pilot at your party?
A: He'll tell you.
Q: What's the difference between God and fighter pilots?
A: God doesn't think he's a fighter pilot.
Q: What's the difference between a fighter pilot and a jet engine?
A: A jet engine stops whining when the plane shuts down.
"Well," snarled the tough old Navy Chief to the bewildered Seaman, "I suppose after you get discharged from the Navy, you'll just be waiting for me to die so you can come and pee on my grave."
No sir, after I get out of the navy I am never going to stand in line again!"
The elderly American gentleman arrived in Paris by plane. At French Customs, he fumbled for his passport. "You 've been to France before, monsieur?" the customs officer asked sarcastically.
The old gent admitted that he had been to France previously.
"Zen, you should know enough to 'ave your passport ready for inspection."
The American said, "The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it."
"Impossible. You Americans alwayz 'ave to show your passports on arrival in France!"
The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, "Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in '44, I couldn't find any Frenchmen to show it to."
1) When you are sad - I will help get you drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2) When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3) When you smile - I will know you finally got laid.
4) When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5) When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.
6) When you are confused - I will use little words.
7) When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8) When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
Remember: A good friend will come and bail you out of jail...but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Damn.... that was fun!"
Maybe I should move those Diablo icons off of my desktop.
I believe that Ace captured the essence of my existence during my years as a physics major:
Geeks, Do Not Vex Me: Yes, c is the speed of light. I noted that so you don't have to. Now go back to making Venn diagrams with circles labled "Me" and "Possibilities of Getting Laid," and note that the areas contain no points of overlap.
Boring meetings got you down? Then consider the items found at this site, which are guaranteed to liven things up, possibly to the point where you get arrested. Be aware that I do not advocate the use of the items you'll find at OfficeGuns. Now stop bothering me; I have to go raid the supply cabinet.
1/2 c butterscotch chips
1/4 c Butter or margarine
1 ea Egg
3/4 c Flour
1/4 t Salt
1/2 t Vanilla
1/3 c Brown sugar, packed
1 t Baking powder
1 c Mini marshamallows
1 c Chocolate chips
1/4 c Chopped nuts
Melt butterscotch chips and butter or margarine together over low heat, stirring constantly. Cool to lukewarm. Beat in egg. Combine dry ingredients including sugar, and stir into melted mixture. Fold in remaining stuff, just enough to combine (about 5 strokes). Spread in greased 9x9 inch pan and bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.Do not overbake; center will be jiggly, but firms up as it cools.
Update: A very polite commenter reminded me that I'd forgotten to list the quantity for butterscotch chips. Whoops. Anyway, the recipe has been corrected.
Update: I originally listed 13 cups of chocolate chips, not 1/3 cup. Fudgy yes, but not brownies. Sorry for any confusion.
Found the following while cleaning up my Inbox:
I was working part time in a five and dime. My boss was Mr. Magee. He was six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian, but I was happy to be stuck with him. One manic Monday, while I was busy working for the weekend, I overheard him make a careless whisper.
He told two of my co-workers, Jack and Diane, that I gave love a bad name. Well, I got so emotional, baby. I told him to say say say what he wants, but don't play games with my affection. He told me it was hard for him to say he's sorry and not to worry, to be happy. Then he blamed it on the rain. He was so out of touch. It just took my breath away. I couldn't fight this feeling any longer. I asked him "What's love got to do with it?" He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car.
So I figured I might as well jump. I cut footloose, went home and called my girl, Jenny. (You already know the number) She was on the other line with Amanda. They were talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That blew my mind! Was she really going out with him? I told her that I had just called to say I love her. She told me she had been saving all her love for me, but now she was looking for a new love - hasta la vista, baby. I thought "I can't go for that - no can do! Bring me a higher love!" I called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would want to get physical all night long (all night).
First I called Billie Jean - she told me to beat it. I called Rosanna - her sister Christian blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me. Come on, Eileen! ... no answer. Nobody told me there'd be days like these! I was feeling like the owner of a lonely heart.
Then, out of the blue, my best friend's girlfriend (she used to be mine) Roxanne calls. Yes, the real Roxanne. She told me she still hadn't found what she's looking for and that she wanted to take on me. I said "I thought you were Jessie's girl." She said "Don't you want me? You don't have to put on the red light - I'm on my own." What a feeling! I had the eye of the tiger. Who was I f-f-f-foolin? Roxanne drove me crazy like no one else. She's a beauty! She blinded me with science, and weird science at that. There was always something there to remind me of her and I just knew that I'd have the time of my life.
I wasn't about to la-di-da-di. I jumped in my little red Corvette and rocked down to Electric Avenue. I got my mind set on her. When I got to her house (in the middle of her street) I ran. I rapped on her front door and to this rapper's delight, I heard a voice say "Who can it be now?" "Here I am, the one that you love", I replied. I let my love open the door and was immediately lost in her eyes. I felt like a virgin touched for the very first time. She loosened her blouse and said "Rock me Amadeus!" Well, I felt it was my prerogative to bust a move. I told her "I'll tumble for ya!" as I pinned her on the stairs, hungry like the wolf.
Just then I felt an invisible touch on my shoulder. "Turn around bright eyes!" said a familiar voice. As I did, Jessie hit me with a sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me right round like a record. He was hangin' tough and continued to roll with it, knocking the wind from beneath my wings - broken wings by this time. He rocked me tonight, for old time's sake, beating me from head to toe, until my true colours were black and blue and blood was spilling from my mouth like red, red wine. "You don't owe me money for nothing!" he snarled. At this point I was livin' on a prayer. I crawled back to my little red Corvette and drove home thinking about how my tainted love had cut like a knife - how it seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn. No longer do I want to know what love is. Love stinks.
I can't decide whether this is ingenious or simply retarded.
Get well soon, Kate.
I stumbled onto this post by Meryl Yourish and flashed back to an ugly incident that I had with a large spider.
About 10 years ago, I lived in a 50 year old house that had a detached garage. The garage contained a Smithsonian quality vintage refrigerator inside that surprisingly still worked. The 100 or so bottles of beer that I brewed each month had a nice, cold place to live without preventing me from storing perishables. One afternoon, after a long day at work, I walked out to the garage to grab a chilly one. When I placed my hand upon the doorknob, I noticed something sticky, which reflect a bit of sunlight. My eyes moved up until I noticed that I was staring at grayish blob, somewhere between the size of a silver half-dollar and dollar, and about 6 inches from my face. I knew right away that it was a spider(middle of the web and all), but I wasn't certain if it was still alive or was simply a clinging, crumpled legs corpse. So I grabbed a stick and took a swing at the thing. My aim was a bit off, what with my being in shock and all, but I noticed that the form shrunk in on itself a bit. Great; it's alive. So I swung again. Must have gotten a bit closer because the fun began in earnest.
The spider extended its legs ::SPLANG:: and started making for the top of the garage. I hesitated for a split second due to two things:
1) The thing was freaking enormous. It's splayed legs covered an area greater than that of my hands with all fingers fully extended. And
2) The knowledge that another 1/8 of a step would have placed that bad boy squarely on my kisser.
Fear is a great motivator, but so is good beer. If I didn't somehow kill that mutant extra from Kingdom of the Spiders, I would be unable to enter my garage until winter. Being cocooned as an after dinner snack just doesn't appeal to me. Anyway, I swung one last time at the swiftly vanishing creature, applying extra force due to my thirst. The vile beast exploded into pieces, which thankfully landed nowhere near me.
Here's the kicker: my best friend was living in my house at the time. When I mentioned my arachnoid encounter, he replied, "Yeah, that thing was huge. I had to duck really low to get into the garage."
"WTF?! Why didn't you tell me about it? What would you have said if I told you the spider had jumped onto my face?"
"I'd have said, 'Gee, that's too bad'."
Yeah, I love the bastard, too.
But apparently he does blow.
Sorry, Harvey. I just couldn't resist
Anyone ever play any games online? I can't be the only geek around. Regardless, you should check out this link. Excerpt:
If World War Two had been an online Real Ttime Strategy game, the chat room traffic would have gone something like this.
*Hitler[AoE] has joined the game.*
*Eisenhower has joined the game.*
*paTTon has joined the game.*
*Churchill has joined the game.*
*benny-tow has joined the game.*
*T0J0 has joined the game.*
*Roosevelt has joined the game.*
*Stalin has joined the game.*
*deGaulle has joined the game.*
Roosevelt: hey sup
Hitler[AoE]: cool, i start with panzer tanks!
paTTon: lol more like panzy tanks
Roosevelt: o this fockin sucks i got a depression!
benny-tow: haha america sux
Stalin: hey hitler you dont fight me i dont fight u, cool?
Hitler[AoE]; sure whatever
deGaulle: **** Hitler rushed some1 help
Hitler[AoE]: lol byebye frenchy
Lots more for your reading pleasure.
To whom it may concern:
This blog is a hobby, something I enjoy doing. It gives me chance to post whatever interests me, and it's allowed me to make some great cyber-contacts. I get some great dialogues going with frequent visitors; comments are always welcome. Having said that, I'll get to my point: you trackback spammers are really pissing me off. I find that I'm having to add about 50+ comments and/or trackbacks to MT's Blacklist every week. Assuming that last month's trend continues, I'll eventually be buried under an availanche of crap. I know that I could beg Pixy Misa for some help by adding something along the lines of a Turing test. Instead, I've decided to bend you folks over and shove something really hard up your collective asses. Any valid email address or website URL that I find buried in commercials for online gaming or Internet porn-but not restricted to those- will get either get one of two treatments. Both if I have the time:
1) Email addresses will be submitted at every pr0n listserver or website that I can find, including ones that refer to special relationships between humans and animals. As an added bonus, I'll sign you up for online mortgage quotes and free samples of penis-enlarging materials. Have fun with your spam filter.
2) I will fucking Googlebomb your website's name so that all searches for your site will automatically point to sites such as Stormfront. Maybe the IRS, if I'm feeling generous.
I realize that these activites will take away from the limited blogging time that I have, but I'm okay with that. Bitchslapping you cretinous pieces of human excrement will make my days just a little bit brighter.
And before anyone mentions it, yes, I'm aware that I'll be shoveling shit against the tide. I don't care. If it mucks up at least one or two trackback/comment spammers so that they have to switch sites/email addresses, I'll be happy.
P.S. This is, of course, a joke. I would never knowingly conspire to commit acts that might run me afoul of laws that protect the human debris using my blog as a wastebasket. Of course I wouldn't.
Once again, I forgot to submit. Sigh. Well, there's always next week.
I was watching an M. Night Shyamalan movie and wanted to see what his next project was. Much to my Google surprise, he needs extras for Lady In The Water. Much to my horror, the casting call was in late June. Worst of all, the casting call info appeared in my hometown newspaper.
One plus that I see this movie is that Bryce Dallas Howard will once again be starring. Whether or not you liked The Village, Opie's daughter delivered a stirring performance. I look forward to seeing her work again.
One final note: the release date is set for July 21, 2006. Only 350 days to go.
And it's from Dean Esmay:
I used to despise Howard Dean. Now I just consider him the biggest floppy-shoed, bright ball-nosed clown in Washington.
I'm thinking of posting this on my PC screensaver to drive the lefty moonbats I work with completely batshit insane.
I think that I went to school with that girl.
Received via email:
Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid
form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for
use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself
a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives
new meaning to The names of "cocktails", "highballs", and just a good
old-fashioned "stiff drink". Pepsi will market the new concoction by the
name of: "Mount & Do".
The poor defenseless babysitter being mauled against her will by her 8-year old charge. Excerpt:
After hiring the teenager to baby sit, Grosbeck got the feeling something was wrong.
“It was just that sense that something wasn’t quite right with this 14-year-old girl,” she said. She asked her son what had happened. “He just came right out as if nothing was awry, and just started talking about what had happened.”
Grosbeck went to police and child protection workers, and the case went to the district attorney, after which her son, age eight, had been charged with an act of lewdness with a minor.
Grosbeck says the Salt Lake County District Attorney told her both the child and teenager were equal participants. But Mrs. Grosbeck didn’t believe that.
Do you wonder if the Salt Lake County DA subscribes to NAMBLA Monthly, or am I the only one?