it comes in pints?

A Few More Demotivators

Because I'm sure by now we've all realized how addicting they are.

These are all music-themed.

(I won't be surprised if very few of you get the joke.)

The Tragedy of a Less Loved Pizza Topping

I just don't quite know what to say about this.

Motivational Posters (Updated)

It's lunch, so I finally got a chance to make my own motivational poster.

UPDATE: For Ricki
MORE: And one for our favorite squabbling siblings.
STILL MORE: One for Emily. Gawd this is addictive. Stop me before I do more!

Quote of the week

This post by THS reminds me of a line I heard this week on the radio. It's actually an old one from the Vietnam era on "winning hearts and minds", and was used in reference to "winning hearts and minds" in Iraq. Don't know who said it; a search turns up one attribution to LBJ, but it's probably some military guy apparently named "Unnamed":

Grab them by the balls and their hearts and minds will follow.

Your Weekend Demotivator

As Ken noted below, our beloved Mr. B. has directed us to a site that I'm sure is destined to become one of the greatest time wasters of my life.

My contribution is after the bump.

UPDATE: I told you this thing was going to suck me in. I've added another one below.

AND

No, it didn't mean that

From an email making the 'net rounds, about an ad to sell a recently purchased motorcycle:

I'm selling it because it was purchased without proper consent of a loving wife. Apparently "do whatever the f*** you want" doesn't mean what I thought.

Indeed. Even I knew that.

The Friday Fuck Off Thread

Two of 'em today. At least for now.

1. Websites that feature any of the following:

*more than one pop up ad.
*huge ads that randomly cover an entire page. Even the ones that have a little "close" X.
*any sites that have links or masthead drop-down menus where, if you accidently hover over them with your mouse, a huge, invariably useless window shows up that completely covers what you are trying to read.
*script or coding that will not allow me to navigate from the page using the "back" button from my browser.
*any site that will automatically set itself as my home page. Hell, even the ones that just ask if I want to reset my home page can

FUCK OFF.

2. Any ethnic restaurant with staff members who automatically assume that the white girl doesn't want it spicy. I like spicy. I live for spicy. When I worked in food service, I never immediately apologized to black patrons because we didn't serve chitlins, re-directed persons of Latin American extraction to the taco stand across the street, or routinely asked Asian customers if they wanted chop sticks with their sandwich. If I had, you'd have called me racist. So what does that make you?

FUCK OFF. With knobs on.

And now, my darlings, it is your turn.

The Mother Lode

Mr. Bingley stumbles onto a veritable gold mine of possibilities!

EEWWWWW.

Here's a headline I could have died happy having never read: Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes Feed Each Other at Wynn Las Vegas.

And I read it during lunchtime, no less. I think I'm going to be sick. Share my pain.

Hey Sheila

Look what I just ordered.*

*no further explanation offered for fear of people thinking I'm more retarded than they already do.

In defense of vote fraud

Not me. I'm opposed. But apparently Patt Morrison at the LA Times wants to defend it. Specifically, he opposes efforts to eradicate it.

Patt Morrison: Memo to Congress -- Voting Is a Right

What's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah. Duh.

The rush to pass voter ID laws proves that the biggest threats to fair elections are elected officials.

Really? Not the felons illegally on the rolls in Florida? Not the thousands of people double registered in two states? Not the people in St. Louis who kept the polls open (in Democratic precincts only) after they were supposed to close? Not the dead people still voting in Chicago? Not the bums bribed by Democrats?

[Much irrelevant stuff deleted]

Now that Americans are wise to electronic voting machines' paperless vulnerability, Republicans have come up with a new way to fiddle the vote. The House just muscled through...

"Muscled through"? How, exactly, does a governmental body "muscle" itself? By voting on it as Congress is supposed to do?

...a bill requiring voters to show government-issued photo ID proving citizenship — something like a passport, which about four out of five Americans don't have.

Or a driver's license, which lots of Americans have. Or a state ID card, which lots of Americans who don't drive have. I mean seriously, couldn't you find an even unlikelier example than passport?

And some states have taken up this voter suppression tactic for themselves.

You read that right. Requiring an ID to demonstrate that you are who you say you are is a "voter suppression tactic".

So, right now, can you prove you're an American citizen?

Uh, yeah. I have a driver's license. And a passport. And a valid copy of my birth certificate. It just isn't that tough.

And by the way, some years back I was required to prove citizenship to keep a job. Talk about supression

Ike Skelton couldn't.

Then Ike Skelton is probably an idiot.

He's the Democratic congressman...

But I repeat myself...

...from Missouri who showed how preposterous his own state's law was. He tried to get a voter ID without a driver's license or passport.

But I repeat myself...

He did have a birth certificate, but it was only a photocopy, not the requisite certified, gold-seal kind.

The kind demonstrably valid, unlike a photocopy which even my meager photoshopping skills could probably dummy up.

Even his congressional photo ID card wasn't good enough. If Missouri's law hadn't been thrown out, the 15-term congressman, Eagle Scout and church elder couldn't even have voted for himself.

At first, I though Skelton was just doing a stunt to make a point. Turns out, maybe he is an idiot.

Arizona requires photo proof of citizenship, so this November, thousands of longtime voters will get booted off the voter rolls, including Navajos, the old, the crippled and the poor.

So Mr. Morrison's public position is that the old, the poor, and Navajos in general are too stupid or incompetent to get an ID card.

As for cripples [Ed.: I thought crippled was a forbidden word. When did that change?] I think that if you're capable of filling out a ballot, you're capable of getting an ID card. It's just not that tough.

Texas can prosecute someone just for dropping an absentee ballot in the mailbox to help, say, a shut-in neighbor.

Can anyone in Texas confirm this? I really find it hard to believe provided, of course, that the person dropping off the ballot didn't fill it out himself.

Before Florida's voter law was thrown out last month, the League of Women Voters had stopped registering voters for fear of punishing fines if they didn't file the registration forms within 10 days — come alligators, hurricanes or death.

Alligators? The LWV is afraid that a friggin' alligator might hold up filing?

Mockery of Mr. Morrison's ludicrous hyperbole aside, I don't know the specifics of the Florida law but it doesn't strike me as unreasonable to require that registration forms be filed in some reasonable time. And, without having the time to deg really deep, I suspect that stopping registration was done more for publicity than out of any real fear.

Long before Georgia's photo ID law was tossed out by a judge, Gov. Sonny Perdue told National Public Radio that "we can't get on a commercial airliner" without photo ID. The law's cheerleaders like to say that just cashing a check or renting a movie requires photo ID.

Maybe these people need a refresher course in civics. Getting on an airplane is a privilege. Renting a movie is a privilege. Voting is a right. Period. They're confusing commerce with citizenship.

Well, leaving aside the historical observation that voting has never been a right on the same level as, say, free speech, the right to keep and bear arms is also a right. Period. It's even mentioned in the Bill of Rights, unlike the "right to vote". Yet I am required to do a lot more than just show an ID to exercise it. I suspect Mr. Morrison isn't terribly bothered by that.

Beyond that, the "right to vote" necessarily includes the right to know that my vote isn't cancelled out by fraud. Voter IDs don't just prove eligibility (which is more than mere citizenship). They prove you are who you say you are so you can't vote twice (or more in some areas). Seriously, except in those precincts (like mine) where the poll workers personally know many of the locals, it is dangerously easy to vote fraudulently. Just pick a name on the roll, which is usually right in front of you (yeah, you have to read upside down but that ain't so hard). If the worker knows neither you nor the name on their list, how do they stop you from stealing someone else's vote? And doing so again in the next precinct over?

I've said it all before.

Voter ID laws are a bogus solution in search of a problem. Where are the numbers?

Well, I don't recall the exact numbers but it was many thousands of felons illegally registered in Florida, and thousand more double registered in both New York and Florida. Can't say for sure how many thousands of dead Chicagoans still cast their vote each year.

Where is the massive voter fraud by noncitizens?

Well, maybe if we start requiring identification we'll find out. I think we would also find that voter fraud by noncitizens is dwarfed by voter fraud by citizens. We should stop that too.

The New York Times says that out of 2.7 million registered Arizona voters, only four noncitizens may have voted. And that's over 10 years.

And we all know how credible a source the NYT is these days. Still, I wonder how they would determine that, since the Arizona law only went into effect after the 2004 elections.

There's no more evidence of fraud in other states with voter ID laws.

Hmm. No mention of fraud in states without them. Perhaps that means that "voter ID = no fraud"?

Now, compare those paltry numbers to more than 400,000 complaints to a voter hotline in 2004 alone:

And how many of those complaints were valid?

Thousands of legitimate voters still waiting in line when polls closed. Myriad voters who gave up and left because there weren't enough voting machines in some Democratic precincts.

Well, since Democrats typically control such things in Democratic precincts, perhaps you should take it up with them.

Voters whose provisional ballots were wrongly disqualified, or whose names were wrongly scrubbed from voter rolls.

You mean, "claimed" to be wrongly disqualified. No idea how many of these complaints were valid.

These ID laws are a cynical backdoor route to the exclusion tactics that were outlawed by the 1970s. Blacks who wanted to vote in 1965 Alabama first faced such questions as, "Does enumeration affect the income tax levied on citizens in various states?" and "Who passes laws dealing with piracy?" (Um, Capt. Jack Sparrow?)

What? No Hitler reference? Dude, your liberals creds are slipping. Everyone knows that driver's license = Jim Crow = Hitler.

The honorable congressmen insist that it's about guaranteeing the integrity of the political process. You want to restore integrity to the political process? How about starting by restoring integrity to the politicians?

Well actually, I agree with that sentiment. But I suggest we start by guaranteeing that those politicians are at least elected honestly.

Lookin' for a link

Heard it on the radio but can't find a link yet so I can't find the details. Any help would be greatly appreciated, because it's possible this short version is not entirely accurate.

It seems that, after months of Phil Angelides talking about making the rich "pay their fair share", someone in LA yesterday finally asked the obvious question, "Who are the rich?"

Apparently, Angelides defines "rich" as having income over $100,000.

Still wondering who gets to decide what a "fair share" is.

Random, Useless Fact

Nick Mason from Pink Floyd is in the Guinness Book of World Records for having baked the world's largest crumpet.

Bleg

But not for money. For "Bellicose Women".

I've been meaning for some time now to put together a post of pictures of women ("wimmenfolk" to some of y'all) with guns. I delayed because I was searching for a particular picture in my family photo collections. I finally located that picture and so it's about time I got off my skinny, pale butt and posted.

And so I'm sending out a call to all the wimmenfolk in this mah-velous audience who have occasion to go shooting and/or hunting, or perhaps just like to pose with guns ("Armed Cheesecake"), to send in pics of themselves with their favorite firearm(s). Send them in, ladies. If you have pictures of relatives or friends you think should be included, send those too, especially if they're younger ladies on their way to becoming Bellicose Women. Children are the future of the shooting sports.

Guys, I don't want you to feel left out either. If you have a better half, relative, or friend who will allow you (her "worser half") to send a picture of her armed and dangerous (or not dangerous, as long as she's armed), send it in. Not nekkid, of course.

Contact info is to the right. Let's bring the phrase, "Shoots Like a Girl" to life*.

* Hi, Kathy!

One of My Favorite Pictures

I've always loved the photo below. Sorry it's not that clear. It's the best I could do with my scanner and I couldn't find it anywhere else online.

When Johnny Cash played at Folsom Prison in 1968, one of the songs he performed, called "Greystone Chapel," was written by an inmate there named Glen Sherley. That picture is John shaking his hand afterwards. I love the way Sherley humbly bows his head in what should have been one of the proudest moments of his life. I love that Cash even opted to perform there in the first place. After all, these weren't guys who were in jail for one too many unpaid parking tickets or petty theft. They were rapists and murders; men who had ruined people's lives and, by extention, managed to ruin their own. Perhaps it was because Cash recognized his own flaws and mistakes that he chose this audience, but in any case, I find it remarkable that his faith gave him an unshakable belief in human redemption. As much as I detest men who do the sort of things that land them in a place like Folsom Prison, I cannot allow myself to be cynical about that.

One of my favorite moments in Cash's biopic Walk The Line is towards the end, when the warden at Folsom asks him if he can perform a song that doesn't so much remind the inmates that they're incarcerated. Cash replied "Do you think they forgot?"

Why is this news?

It was on the ABC radio network feed this morning.

A lawyer for former Playboy centerfold Anna Nicole Smith said on Tuesday he was the father of her newborn daughter.

So what's new about a lawyer screwing a client?

(Line stolen from the Morning Show)

This just in

Keith Olbermann is still a jackass.

A round of Mozart, please

Just to piss off the freaks and asskissalators.

UPDATE: I'm dangerously close to photoshopping a picture of Muhammed fellating a camel.

ANOTHER UPDATE: Oh good lord...

The Musical Sith

Here's something I never thought I'd see: A man in a Darth Vader costume playing a violin.

(Scroll down a bit.)

Gun blogging

I don't do enough of it.

Jeff notes the passing of one of the great gun writers, Jeff Cooper.

And Tim Blair points to some female empowerment stories.

Cowboy hats and rattlesnakes

So I promised to say a little more about the trip for Auntie's funeral.

Her kids and grandkids were all there at the end, and she was aware of it. The last grandkid arrived Wednesday evening and with her whole family there, at home, at the ranch, at peace, she went to sleep.

My brother called Thursday morning to tell me she had passed away. I left work and boogied upcountry, taking along several boxes of family pictures to sort through for the services.

We spent Friday getting things ready for the funeral. We sorted through pictures for some collages of her life. For several years now, every time I visited her we went through a stack of pictures to identify people in them. My family seems to have an irritating gene that keeps people from writing on the backs of pictures. Fortunately, before my Grandpa died back in the 60s, Auntie had sat him down and made him identify a lot of the oldest pictures, many from the 19th century, but in a couple of large trunks at the ranch there were still literally thousands of unidentified pictures. While looking for pictures of Auntie, I finally made it to the bottom of the second trunk but only because I was looking for pictures of her specifically and just breezed through the rest. There are still many unidentified but I think there are enough already that we can at least figure out who the people are.

Other treasures found in that trunk:

Newspapers with my great-grandmother's obituary (I never knew exactly when she died and Auntie couldn't remember for certain, just that it was in the mid 1940s).

My grandmother's high school yearbook from 1919 and college yearbook from 1924 - we already have several copies of some prior years because a number of relatives attended that college in the years around 1920.

Christmas postcards sent to my grandmother's sister by various relatives (no idea why my grandmother ended up with them, I suspect it's because she probably handled her mother's effects after her death).

Some other outstanding pictures of the ranch from the old days, including one of the original highway bridge across the creek next to the old schoolhouse; Auntie and Mom both went there (Mom only up to second grade, at which point there were only two kids in the whole school). I remarked that that old bridge must have washed out several times since it was right down on the water, and my cousin told me that one time when it washed out Auntie and the other kids were brought across the raging waters on a rope pulley. We suspect this contributed to Auntie's lifelong aversions to both boating and flying.

These are only some of the things I found this time. There was a lot I didn't even look at (beyond the many treasures I had found before) and I haven't even touched the attic.

We, by which I mean not I but my cousins who have a creative streak, put together the collages, one for childhood, one for young adulthood, and one for her later years. We also spiffed up the house and such.

Later Friday evening, we watch a video of some old home movies Auntie had transferred to VHS. Several Christmases, starting before I was born and continuing after we had moved from the ranch to SoCal. Several Easters. Hunting seasons (including a shot of me at about three years old posing with a buck then trying to drag it to the skinning area at the smokehouse). A lot of family and friends I miss very much: Mom, Dad, Auntie, Uncle Jack, Grandpa, Aunt Mae, Shine, Jimmy, Chief, Doc, Curly, Injun Joe (seriously, we had an Injun Joe working at the ranch long before I was born, even before my mother was born), and others I know of but don't really remember personally.

Saturday and Sunday, more folks arrived: my cousin's stepkids and stepgrandkids, my little bro and his family, the sainted bride and my kids. We continued doing the little things that needed doing. We started collecting Auntie stories for the services. We did a lot of laughing and crying. Some of my cousin's new family had not yet visited the ranch so we did some tourguiding. We took the little kids out to see the cows and sheep and pigs, as well as some deer and other wild life (not that kind, though there were some wild turkeys), and took some of the city folks out to plink at some rocks and trees and cans.

Sunday, some friends with a catering service brought lunch/dinner for everybody. That evening was the family service, really more of a vigil at the chapel.

Monday was the funeral. Huge turnout, of course. Auntie was well-known and well-loved. Part of the service was by the husband of a second cousin we are close with. He shared the stories we collected and more besides.

One of the stories was about Auntie's particular dislikes. Her two biggest were rattlesnakes and men who wear hats in the house. The part he didn't share, probably because we forgot to tell him, was about the time some joker walked into Auntie's kitchen wearing a cowboy hat with a rattlesnakeskin hatband and rattles. Mercifully, Auntie allowed the poor bastard to live but to the best of my knowledge, he's never been back.

After the chapel service we went to the cemetery, where I was a pallbearer. After a very short service there, many of the people went out to the ranch. Some of them were people I hadn't seen since I was a little kid. One looked very familiar but I couldn't quite place her until she said "Remember Shine? He brought you up to go fishing with us", at which point I yelled "Mickey!" and hugged her to pieces.

Now, a short anecdote to complete a circle: Some time back, I told a story about my family. Part of that story was that my grandfather's brother had died very young and was buried on the family ranch, a portion which is no longer in the family. After my Mom died, my little bro and I contacted the folks who run that ranch now (and who, BTW, were at Auntie's funeral and out at the ranch afterward) for permission to visit the grave. We did so, and took the picture linked in that post. In addition to Frank's grave was the grave of Elisha Abbott, my great-grandfather's business partner. Also, there was a third grave with a name I didn't recognize. I took a picture of it also, hoping to one day find out who it was. That was four years ago.

Flashforward to the present: I was chatting with an old school friend of my Mom's when a fellow I didn't know came up to talk with her. Toward the end of the conversation, he mentioned Mom then wandered off not knowing who I was. A little later, I thought I should at least introduce myself since he had mentioned Mom so I found him sitting next to Mickey (which was when I realized who she was). I introduced myself and we talked a bit. He said his grandfather had worked for my great-grandfather for a time and later traded cattle with him. He told a couple of stories about his grandfather and the old days and then said, "In fact, my grandfather's buried down at that ranch". And suddenly his last name clicked. How freakin' cool is that?

It seems that his grandfather had stopped in for a visit with my great-grandfolks. It got late and they invited him to stay over. He died during the night and since it was the middle of winter, he was buried near Frank and Elisha.

Not much more to tell about the funeral or after. Acquaintances were renewed, memories were shared, tears were shed. People started heading home, bro took his family to the airport so they could get the kids back to school.

Tuesday morning I took Daughter Number One out gunning for coyotes (didn't see any). Later, after sainted bride and the kids left for home, bro and I went with the cousins to town to help them start on the painful process of dealing with Auntie's affairs and effects. Business concluded, we went to lunch then back to the house. I packed up and got ready to take off. Just before I left, we decided that it really sucks to be so widely scattered that the only time we all get together is for weddings or funerals, so we're going to set aside a particular time each year when we all get together at the ranch. We all get there now but rarely at the same time. Now we will.

One more thing: my sentimental cousin and I both decided that if one of us hits the lottery, we want to do some work out at the ranch. Remodel the living room to put back the old mantle the way it was forty-some years ago (meaning, the way it was in those home movies we watched). Rebuild the lambing shed. Put back wooden gates in the barn lot instead of the modern metal monstrosities. In short, we want it the way it was when we were kids. I know, pipe dream. But it's a dream, and that's what counts.

Well anyway, I grabbed a bagful of Auntie's homegrown tomatoes and peppers and hit the road. Speaking of the way it was when I was a kid, not far down the road I got off the freeway and traveled the frontage road, old Highway 99, through the towns and cities of the valley. Just because.

Giggle for the morning

Check out the picture.

Name That Movie

Stealing memes

I saw it at Lisa's but didn't get a chance to do it. Now Diphtheria has done it and I feel, like, WAY behind time, so here goes:

1. First name? Duh. Check the "posted by" below.

2. Were you named after anyone? After my Dad''s best buddy in the Navy, whose firstborn was named after my Dad.

3. Last cry? While I was putting together this post.

4. Do you like your handwriting? No. Hell no. Calling it chickenscratch would be an insult to chickens.

5. What is your favorite lunch meat? Ham. Preferably with cheese, grilled.

6. Kids? Yeah, I like to josh around a lit... What? Oh. Two.

7. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? I suppose so.

8. Do you have a journal? No.

9. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Some. Probably not as much as I should.

10. Do you still have your tonsils? Yep.

Would you bungee jump? Yes. It's not high on my list of things to go looking for but if offered…

What is your favorite cereal? ?

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Not usually, but I open the velcro straps.

Do you think you are strong? I guess.

What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Homemade vanilla, preferably hand-cranked. If forced to buy in a store, chocolate chip cookie dough. But I do have a sentimental sweet spot for Thrifty Rocky Road on a cone.

Shoe size? 10-1/2

What is the least favorite thing about yourself? ?

Who do you miss the most? My parents. And right now, my auntie.

What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Blue pants, black shoes.

What are you listening to right now? The click of a keyboard.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be? ?

Favorite smell? Ribs on the barbecue.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Don't know. Somebody at work.

The first thing you notice in a person you're attracted to. Cleavage.

Do you like the person who sent this to you? Well, since I stole it that would be me, so I suppose so.

Favorite drink? Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

Favorite sport? Hunting. If you feel compelled to restrict this to organized spectator sports, baseball.

Eye color? Green.

Hat size? Not a clue. Something close to average.

Do you wear contacts? No. Hell no. I've worn glasses since about second grade and I have a strong aversion to sticking objects in my eyes.

Favorite food? Meat. Pretty much any kind.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, by which I mean lots of dead perps.

Last movie you watched at the theater? No idea. It's been years.

What color shirt are you wearing? White. T-shirt. I had on a blue shirt for work but I'm home now and I have a Sierra Nevada open.

Summer or winter? Winter. More hunting seasons open.

Hugs or kisses? I gotta choose?

Favorite dessert? Actually, I'm more of a salt-and-grease person than a dessert person but if forced to answer, it's homemade vanilla ice cream.

What books are you reading? The Bourne Supremacy in deadtree. On CD, I just finshed Sue Grafton's F is for Fugitive on the way home from work.

What's on your mouse pad? A Dilbert cartoon

What did you watch last night on TV? "Jeopardy" and "Family Guy"

What are your favorite sounds?

Rolling Stones or Beatles? Beatles. Duh. It might be a little closer call if the Stones had also quit in 1970.

The furthest you've been from home? Germany (to be more specific, the Neckar valley east of Mannheim; I didn't make it all the way to Bavaria).

Where were you born? La Grande, OR.

No specific tags. Steal it as you will

Caption Contest

Caption this picture:

The Friday Fuck Off Thread

This Friday Fuck Off Thread is dedicated to Roger Waters. I was going to write some long tirade about artists being condescending to their audiences by telling them how to vote or stuffing their politics down everyone's throat in an atmosphere where it was not to be expected, then it occured to me: I am not Roger Waters' audience anymore. I'll take David Gilmour's kick-ass solo album any day over anything Waters does. So I guess I would tell old Roger to fuck off if I could be bothered, but I can't.

But Googlefights where the wrong person wins can fuck off big time.

Have at it. Tell off the world.

"Don't poke the snake"

[Still catching up on my reading]

Matoko Kusanagi responds to Captain Ed:

capn ed: "I'm angry about the fact that a speech given by you has been manipulated by Muslims into rationales for their violence."

me: I'm angry because his excellency (excellent at what? speechmaking? lol.) wasn't bright enough to see that his remarks are very easily manipulated into memetic weapons by the hardliner imams and shayks and local tyrants intent on deflecting criticism of their own regimes who are the real adversary.

We have a very profound saying out here in the West.

Don't poke the snake.

Um, okay. But a little further west, in my neck of the woods, we don't poke the snake either. We use a shotgun. It works.

There's a lesson here.

Jesus H. Christ NUCLEAR HUMMER!

(to steal a phrase from Dave) (HAHAHA! Thanks Alan! Sorry, Dave.)

Bill Lockyer is amazing.

California is suing the auto industry over tailpipe emissions, marking the first time a state has sought monetary damages for the impact of global warming by vehicles.

Attorney General Bill Lockyer on Wednesday sued the six largest U.S. and Japanese automakers, claiming they have causing millions of dollars in damage by creating greenhouse gases.

Uh huh. What damage?

Of course, this is especially funny because

Lockyer, whose office has been investigating gasoline prices for seven years, recently subpoenaed financial records from the state's refineries and is seeking depositions from the chief executive officers of the companies that own those facilities. Since California's anti-gouging law doesn't seem to apply to the current gas-price increase, which wasn't triggered by a disaster, Lockyer is checking whether other state laws are being broken.

Yeah. Lockyer was all over the news a while back, threatening to sue oil companies and refineries to keep gasoline prices down. So people can keep driving. A lot. Emitting carbon dioxide. A lot. Asswipe.

But despite all that investigation, Lockyer never made a prosecution for price gouging because California's gouging law has a loophole:

But the law contains a big exception. No business can be prosecuted if its own costs rose at as high a rate or higher than the prices it charged after the disaster. In other words, if a service station owner has to pay 15 percent more for wholesale gasoline and raises his pump prices 15 percent in response, he's safe.

At the risk of stating the blindingly friggin' obvious, duh. But then, I long ago learned not to expect rationality or consistency from Lockyer. One burp in the oil supply and he'll be back investigating the "gouging".

Back again

By popular demand. My Auntie:

Of course, she started out small:

That's my grandpa with her.

A little older. This is her with my mom and cousin Al. Auntie was a few years older.

A little older still, with Mom on the kitchen porch at the ranch. That shadow on the wall behind them - that dinner bell, used to call the ranch hands in the olden days, is still there:

Still older. Mom's on the left, Auntie's on the right, and a good friend, who I saw and hugged at the funeral, and who did a bit of travelling with Mom after Dad died, is in the middle. It's not quite like she was a third Mom, but she certainly counts as a sweet aunt and Class-One bullshitter (in the best way possible, and I love her to pieces):

You know, the current crop of "feminists" can bitch all they want about how women were consigned to the kitchen (barefoot and pregnant, of course) in the bad old days. God forbid a "womyn" should do something as manly as drive a frickin' tractor:

Or even do something so terrible as go hunting. This is my Auntie last deer season or possibly the one before:

BTW, that scope on the rifle was put on sometime in the last ten years, and only as a last ditch capitulation to aging eyesight. Before that, she wouldn't even use a peep sight. The sight on that Remington 740 was a filed-off buckhorn with nothing but a tiny notch left, but she could make a 200 yard neck shot better than most others with the best scope available. And she graciously allowed me to carry that rifle a few times (when I was younger, of course, as she would certainly allow her grandkids or grandnieces today).

Also BTW, she fought that fucking cancer for nine years. She and Mom went through chemotherapy about the same time (Mom passed about four years ago). Auntie went through more chemo later, but no goddamned cancer could keep her from killing an great buck. Gratuitous plug: go here if you haven't already.

That's all for now. I will post a little about the trip and the services later, possibly tonight if I hold up through the tears, otherwise soon.

It may have sounded like a throwaway line, but she truly was like a second Mom to me*. I love you, Auntie.

*This not only refers to being a strong influence and loving relative, but to how many times she whipped my butt for getting out of line when I visited. Roughly the same rate as my Mom. "Mi kid es su kid", as it were.

From Suck to BLOW

A guy I work with brought in a greatest hits CD by Meatloaf and it's playing right now.

Wow. I never knew I could feel such a deeply passionate and profound feeling of disgust and hatred for a few pieces of music in my life. And this is coming from a girl who's never been able to look at a picture of Rod Stewart in print without poking his eyes out of the photograph.

UPDATE: I mean it. Kill me. It's the only way I can see how the suffering could possibly come to an end.

A quick and early "fuck off"

Being out of touch with current events for a few days, I missed some fun. Seems the Pope said something the hurt the poor little muswims' feewings. I haven't yet read the actual remarks but I guess they were fairly accurate because it apparently set off a firestorm.

Well some Muslims were happy to write a letter of solidarity to Gu-with umlaut-nter Grass about his little stint in the SS, so I'm not sure why they don't cut Pope B some slack. Surely his time in the Hitler Youth should net him a few Islamofascist brownie points.

Anyway, "Fuck Off, Islamocreeps". That is all.

Movies Make Reality

I keep reading the following sentence over and over again in an attempt to wrap my mind around the almost unbelievable stupidity of it:

[Clive] Owen, whose previous films include Closer and Sin City, says the film works by turning today's issues of mass immigration, terrorism, the environment and infertility into reality.

Am I reading it wrong, or does that basically say that a fictional movie has taken reality and made it more real than it already is?

"These are things that we are scared and concerned and worried about now, actually happening. It is like things are now, but worse," he explains.

"By talking about things that are really worrying us now makes it a much more relevant film than it might have been."

At least he didn't congratulate himself for being brave.

I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives

I can't stop watching this video. I know that ultimately it's just a house, but there's something telling about the absurd decoration, the brightly painted walls and furniture and the absolutely horrible carpentry, which Barrett and his surviving family members admitted was definitely a talent for which he was lacking. He apparently loved doing it in spite of this, which is really sweet and makes the whole house and its contents very endearing. His music has often been described as "child-like" and I think that's a huge part of its appeal for me. It's interesting to learn that he lived his retired life very much in the manner of the music that secured his permanent legacy in rock and roll.

The house and most of the stuff in it are going up for auction come November and you can bet your sweet boopy-kins that people are going to bid ridiculous amounts of money for otherwise useless stuff because a guy that was once in Pink Floyd for five minutes touched them. I thought I was a big Syd Barrett geek, but I have taken dives into the depths of his online fandom and had encounters with people whose interest can only accurately be described as psychotic, albeit in a harmless manner, at least to the public at large.

I can't get over the hippopotamus door knob. I love imagining a sixty-year-old man living in a house painted like wonderland with a hippopotamus door knob.

I want one.

UPDATE: Now that I've had the chance to watch it with the sound on, can anybody at the BBC say "research"? Geez, how hard is it to read a four paragraph Wikipedia entry to find out that Syd Barrett didn't leave Pink Floyd in 1965? In fact, that's the year Pink Floyd started. Dolts.

Back

Thank you all for your kind thoughts. Auntie got a great sendoff with lots of family and friends there to say goodbye. I'll try to post more about her and the services soon, but right now I have an enormous backlog of work to catch up on.

UPDATE: I meant to mention also that one of the best things you could possibly do in this life is to go here and make a donation.

Jesus H. Christ this stuff is good...

No comment is necessary, or sufficient.

(via Mary)

Weekend Happy Place

Have a good one, everybody.

"If you don't like it, then you can just fuck off." - the last words of Keith Moon.

The Friday Fuck Off Thread

Drivers two or three cars back from the stop light who firmly plant their hands on their horn the instant the light goes from red to green can fuck off. It takes a couple of seconds to get moving, asshole. It's not like this neighborhood isn't noisy enough without you adding your rude impatience to the urban orchestra. You aren't the only one who is trying to get somewhere, you stupid twit. Take a fucking pill already.

Your turn.

Auntie, 1931-2006

She bravely fought the cancer for several years.

I'll be out of touch for a while.

UPDATE: Mom's on the left, Auntie's on the right

She was like a second Mom to me.

Speaking of Deb...

She also links to an outstanding essay by Isaac Asimov about our National Anthem. I've seen it before, but it should be read often.

Cognitive dissonance sets in

Wait just a freakin' minute. I thought Canada was one of those gun control utopias where crime doesn't happen and the gang bangers pack flowers and kumbaya and stuff.

Montreal shooting rampage kills student
By PHIL COUVRETTE, Associated Press Writer
Thu Sep 14, 5:34 AM ET

MONTREAL - A young man in a black trench coat and a mohawk haircut opened fire Wednesday at a Montreal college, slaying a woman and wounding at least 19 other people before police shot and killed him, witnesses and authorities said.

The reporter also demonstrates his cultural bias. It should be referred to as a "northeastern-indigenous-American" haircut.

Naturally, Deb and Jeff are all over it before I got to it. Feckin' time zones.

KEWL!

My former boss is probably going to be the next Lieutenant Governor of Florida. I'm psyched for him...and increasingly astounded at what a small world it really is. Congrats, Jeff, and good luck!

Three Things

I'm a little late at answering the call of the tag from Mr. Toodle Pip across the pond, but here goes....

Things that scare me

Spiders.
Heights.
Crowds.

People who make me laugh
Only three? Okay, um...just off the top of my head:

Lewis Black.
Eddie Izzard.
Steve Carrell.

Things I hate the most

Snobs.
Sauerkraut.
Radio and television commercials.

Things I don't understand

Most languages in the world.
Stuck up people.
The enduring popularity of Janis Joplin.

Things I'm doing right now

Typing this.
Feeling hungry.
Wishing I were on a beach drinking fruity alcoholic beverages.

Things I want to do before I die

Only three things? What do a I have? A week to live? Do you know something I don't?!?!?

Things I can do

Not sure how to answer this one...

Ways to describe my personality

Open, honest, unrigid.

Things I can't do

Lie.
Steal.
Kill.

Things I think you should listen to

Whatever.
You.
Like.

Things you should never listen to

Janis Joplin, The Doors, and disco music. At least not in my presence, please.

Things I'd like to learn
A few more languages.
General automobile mechanics.
HTML. At least more proficiently than right now.

Favourite foods
Italian, Thai and Japanese.

Beverages I drink regularly

Coffee, tea and water.

Shows I watched as a kid

"The A-Team"
"Sha-Na-Na"
"The Muppet Show"

People I'm tagging (to do this meme)

Anyone that feels like it. Cheers.

When the going gets tough,

the tough go photoshopping. You just KNOW that's what they really mean, even if they think they don't.

With thanks to the people who protested "Stone Cold" Mohammed Khatami's recent visit to Harvard: Miss Kelly, Robert Mayer, Teresa Hummel, but especially to Mitch Townsend, from whom I stole the picture.

HAHA!

Look what I discovered at Jeff's place!

Never forget

One more thing I will never forget about September 11, 2001: Palestinians dancing in the streets.

Random Dorothy Parker Quote

[Because I'm still so pissed off and need to calm down]

Brevity is the soul of lingerie

Marked for death

IP Address: 203.113.13.5
Name: GoloTer
Email Address: golotertgh@gmail.com
URL: http://map.southspace.net/pub/Main/AmoXicillin/

Spamming itself is bad enough. Spamming a 2996 post is cause for death, motherfucker.

Hero

Remembering Tom Burnett, a Hero of Flight 93.

Tom was one of the leaders of the passengers who fought back to retake Flight 93 and prevent even more devastation and death.

A born leader, Tom quarterbacked his high school football team to the state championship game. After college, he took a sales job and worked his way up to vice president of Thoratec Corporation in San Ramon, CA.

He met his future wife, Deena, in 1989 and they were married three years later. They had three beautiful daughters. A devoted father, he once insisted that he and Deena travel separately by plane on vacation, so that their girls could not be left parentless should something happen.

When flight 93 was taken over by hijackers,

He made four calls to his wife, Deena, from the plane. Deena Burnett said that her husband told her that one passenger had been stabbed and that "a group of us are going to do something.". He also told her that the people on board knew about the attack on the World Trade Center, apparently through other phone calls.

Tom, Tod Beamer, and Jeremy Glick led the passenger revolt when they learned of the planes that hit the twin towers, and soldiered the first counterattack in the War on Terror.

Tom's legacy is best summarized by a schoolchild commenting on the September 11 website:

[A]t my school we were asked to write about someone brave that was in this horrific tragedy. So I picked Mr. Burnett because he was one the most wonderfulest man that I have ever read about and heard about. He is my hero because of everything he has done

Mine too.

There is a street named for Tom Burnett in Pleasanton, CA, honoring his life and his heroism.

What He Said

I feel like it's a cop-out not to write a tribute of my own. I question how I could possibly suggest my own little life is too busy. But I haven't managed to come up with anything, and better that I should link to someone else's words than let this date go unremarked at all on my part.

So, as he has since come to be known for saying, faster please: Michael Ledeen's tribute to Barbara Olson is, as it should be, more a call to action than a eulogy.

Thanks to Tammy for steering me towards it.

Michael John Simon

It's really hard to write an obituary for someone you never knew, especially if they've had no kind of public life. Michael John Simon has been drifting in and out of my thoughts regularly since I first signed up to be a part of this wonderful project.

You can read the thoughts of his friends and family here. All I can say is what a guy. America lost one of our great ones five years ago. He was an impressive athlete who once rode a bicycle across the country from Washington state to New York. His wife described him as her pillar and the love of her life. He was one of those cool dads who took an active interest and participated in the lives of his children by coaching their sports teams and being a part of their school and church events.

It's funny how you can recognize good character by small details, like how he made pancakes for his family on Sundays. That's the kind of thing that devoted husbands and fathers do for their families. He left behind his wife Eileen and his children Brittany Radcliffe, Michael John Jr. and Tyler Ingram. From what I can tell by reading the loving tributes from those that knew him, if those children are half of the wonderful person that Michael John Simon was, they will be his greatest gift to the human race.

I never knew him, but I will never forget him. The few stories I could find about him and the life that he lived have genuinely inspired me to strive to be a better person. I am always in awe of strangers who can energize me the way his memory has. That's not just an amazing legacy. It's a blessing and because of him, I will not waste it.

Michael John Simon, thank you.

2996

In addition to my post (soon to be posted), I think it's a good idea to link posts other people have put up. I'll add to this meager effort as I come across posts and I hope you do too. Some have gone up already and they are beautiful. I already linked to Rob's.

Here's Brian

And Lisa

And my lovely friend Julie.

UPDATES: Sharon has two tributes but more than two people honored.
Mysterious Lady, who has lots of links to other tributes.
Shannon
Mister Priapus
Alli at Fox Rants
Mr. Bingley, who also has lots of links to project participants
Cullen
Sheila
Nightfly has more links too
Val Prieto
Aaron of Lifelikepundits
Joel
Dirtcrashr

And as Emily noted in the comments, Chris Muir has a beautiful picture up.

Thank you all so much for doing this.

WTF?

In something over 30 years of driving, I have hit or run over a dog, a cat, a racoon, two deer, and innumerable squirrels. I have never hit a bird.

So last weekend, I cruised up to the ranch. Part of the reason I did so, beyond the opening of dove season, was to bring back my dad's old pickup to move DNT into her new apartment this weekend. I've been commuting in it all this week.

Suddenly, in the last two days, I have killed two birds (both pigeons, I think, the one yesterday just exploded on the windshield in a puff of gray feathers so it's hard to be sure).

WTF is up with that?

Quote of the week

"Contribution is the truest form of contrition"

Couric's Sign-Off

In the comments under my earlier rant about Katie Couric, Marc wrote of her fumbling for a sign-off line "At least she didn't have a list of choices which people could send a text message to vote for."

I think he might have expressed his relief a little too soon.

Because they've gotten off easy for too long

I hereby declare today to be "Mock the Dutch Day".

Maybe we'll even have a parade with Bikes on Dikes.

UPDATE: Or maybe I'm just tilting at windmills.

The Friday Fuck Off Thread

This Friday Fuck Off Thread is dedicated to Ricki and everyone like her who spends their week politely nodding and internalizing their desires to choke the idiots they regularly have to deal with.

My personal fuck off this week goes out to the shameless celebrity name-droppers of the world. I've lived in L.A. since I was twelve. Hollywood celebrities, for the most part, do not impress me. They're actually some of the most boring, shallow, self-centered, vacuous people in the bloody world. Don't get me wrong. I have no greater hobby than movies. I love them. I watch hours of them, some over and over and over again. But puh-leeze with the name-dropping. Celebrities are just fucking PEOPLE, okay?

I know entertainment is important. It helps people escape, laugh, cry and get a shit week out of their system, but I'm sick to death of celebrities being treated like they're the most important fucking beings in the universe and by turn, some of them becoming psychotic and egomaniacal enough to believe as much themselves. Even worse, they've spawned a damn near industry of moochers who somehow think they're important in their own right because they've been blessed enough to breath the same air. Whatever. Get over it and get a fucking life of your own and while you're doing so, consider things that should really matter.

People like Mark Inglis impress me. Researchers devoting their lives to finding cures for fatal illnesses impress me. Artists that care more about what they create than how famous it makes them impress me. People regularly mentioned in the pages of Variety generally bore the hell out of me. Fuck off with the name-dropping, especially if you have to do it in a ridiculously rude manner, like shouting at the top of your lungs in public to make sure everyone within a ten yard radius can hear that you've spoken to So-and-so Bigtimemoviestar or an insistance on interrupting me while I'm speaking so that you can mention a person only related to what I'm talking about by tangent is a "buddy" of yours. I. DON'T. CARE. I don't care who you know. I care who you are.

All together now

Collective "Awwwww" and group hug. Billy Jeff's feewings got hurt.

He has a problem with the film's "accuracy", but then he's always had a problem with accuracy. The proper response is, of course, to rebut any inaccuracies, not to say stupid things like

"ABC has the duty to fully correct all errors or pull the drama entirely"

I'm listening for the lefties to start screaming about crushing artistic freedom but all I hear is the crickets.

Meanwhile, my ace violinist is getting in some practice.

UPDATE: Thanks to Jeff for reminding me who one of the people talking bad about the movie is. This guy:

Man oh Manischewitz

Rob sets the bar high. Beautiful post, Rob. I wish I could have known her.

Read this

Now.

[snicker]

Tonight

Dinner and Doobs.

'Night, all. See you on the flip side.

Sixty-Three

Happy Birthday, Roger Waters...

...you egomaniacal twat.

Dear CBS

Re: Why I don't watch network news anymore (the unrated version)

I'm all for women news anchors. I think plenty of us are more than capable of delivering the hard news with the dignity the job requires. However, when a devastating mudslide kills 1000 people in a Guatemalan villiage, I don't want to hear about it from fucking Gidget, m'kay? It's bad enough that you promoted Katie Couric's addition to your evening news team with all the fanfare that one would think you were counting down to a successful human colonization of Mars, but to have the climax of all of it end up being a poster child for British-style state-mandated licensing fees to pay for non-commercial news ventures proves how obscenely ratings-obsessed you have become, at the dire expense of the formal austerity an audience has a right to expect from the evening news. If I want cute, I'll watch the fucking E! Channel.

As for Ms. Couric's indecision on how to sign off her broadcast, you could consider explaning to her that she is in the business of serious journalism, not a Will fucking Ferrell movie. She doesn't need a tagline. Closing with shit like "courage" is stunningly retarded. Here's an idea for how to end things you might want to throw her way:

"Good night."

Yeah, almost genius in the simplicity, no?

Now I know Dan Rather didn't leave behind an enormous pair of shoes to fill, but that doesn't give you the excuse to aim low. At least not if you don't expect to be considered in the same category as "Entertainment Tonight." That's where I'll look if I want to see pictures of Suri Cruise. I don't quite recall exactly when it was that I tuned out network news, but it was probably around the time people like you decided the purpose of your broadcasts was not to inform but to amuse.

But hey, it's your network. Run things the way you like. I won't be watching anyway.

Sincerely,

Musical Geography Question

Because Brian and Deb keep stumping me.

Where were you last Friday night while I was lying in jail? And what was it you wouldn't even do for me, you bitch*?

*Okay, the "bitch" part isn't really in the song.

Heh

The Gay, Conservative, Gun-Nut's Bachelor Cookbook

"That's the way it is"

Lordy, this is brutal.

Katie Couric last night underwent her second on-air colonoscopy...

Her face was Botoxed beyond normal human endurance, proving that even pampered, overpaid news babes possess the courage to suffer for their art.

Strangely, I feel like I need to go potty.

(Via The Morning Show)

Indeed

I fully intend to do so.

War Letters III

Let every nation know that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty. - John F. Kennedy

My last except from War Letters is a letter from former President Dwight D. Eisenhower to his friend John Hay Whitney, after a meeting with President Kennedy, in which Kennedy asked Eisenhower's advice in the aftermath of the Bay of Pigs. It puts lie to the myth that the U.S. always supported right-wing dictators over "liberators", and actively suppressed democratic governments.

April 24,1961

PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL

Dear Jock:

After talking to you on the phone, I began to fear that I might have expressed myself unclearly or inadequately, and this decided me to write you.

My feeling is that particularly in any period of crisis—and the present is one of strain—the attitude of all Americans must be of a unified front before the world—and this can be achieved only by support of our Constitutional leader. This does not mean blind approval of every diplomatic or operational tactic, but it does place upon each of us such a burden of personal responsibility that any criticism, if voiced, must be clearly on the constructive and helpful, and if possible, on the confidential side.

The foregoing deals, as I said, with basic considerations applying to the citizen's duty. While all of us support the purpose of excluding Communism from our hemisphere, the details of techniques, timing and other deciding factors in the Cuban operation may never be known to all of us until history will make them available. We of course could neither approve nor disapprove of these unless such knowledge should be in our hands.

Since the Administration has already said that a military man is to be called in from the outside to examine into all these things and point up lessons from the experience, I assume that the added intention is to make these findings public, although even on this point I have no assurance. But if the assumption is correct, I see no reason for failing to express an opinion at that time as to the wisdom or unwisdom of any such detail and to editorialize concerning the matter if in your judgement this seems desirable.

You will recall that in the U-2 incident—which in magnitude and in real significance to our nation was not to be compared with what we now know about the action in Cuba—newspaper and political criticism was frequently bitter and persistent. It may be because of the newness of the present Administration that both editors and political leaders are making excuses for lack of experience and therefore exercising some moderation in these respects. Whatever the reason I approve of the moderation.

We cannot now be speaking to the world with many voices. There will be plenty of time when the facts all become known to the public to express personal and institutional convictions on the matter. None of this means that we surrender our wills and our souls to any one individual or to any one idea, but I believe that our own enlightened self-interest compels us to take an attitude that gives the fact and the appearance of strength in unity, not of futility in division. Timing, in such criticisms, could easily become just as important as was the matter of timing in the action under discussion.

When Batista was dictator of Cuba, he was of course a thorn in our sides. While he appeared to be friendly enough to the United States, it had been for many years our policy to try to develop Latin American governments that were responsive to the will of their people rather than agencies of repression. So when Castro started fighting in the hills, we were very much in favor of his success except that we suspected one of two things might happen. The first was that he might take his government, when established, into the Communist camp, and the other—which would have followed the traditional Latin American pattern—to establish himself as just another dictator in that region.

We of course watched developments very carefully and as quickly as Castro succeeded in driving Batista out of the country, we found that he was turning into a vindictive and almost irrational type of man that we would have to watch very closely indeed. Within a short time his selection of assistants who were known Communists and his establishment of close and friendly ties with the Soviets convinced us that we had a real problem on our hands.

It was not long after this that refugees began coming out of Cuba, many of them landing in Florida, others in different countries of the hemisphere. Those remaining in Cuba were helpless under the strong arm methods of Castro and, of course, successful revolution can come from only one source—the people of the country affected. But the refugee bands grew rapidly in numbers and these included many of the natural leaders of the country. It was only natural that they began to plan the overthrow of Castro and their return to their homeland. For a time the different bands and leaders seemed to be pulling in different directions, and it was likely that each leading figure wanted to become the "Big Boss." In the meantime, however, all of them wanted to get the equipment and the training by which they could hope, when the time came, to overthrow the new dictator.

In March, 1960, our government decided to move forward in several ways, the most important of which were propaganda, and training and equipping of volunteer refugees. Locations were selected where the training could go forward. But much time consuming work had to be done by the refugees themselves.

Up to the time that I left the White House, no definite plans had been made, or could have been made, for a future invasion, to say nothing of such details as timing, location, strength and the commander of the invasion forces.

Two other factors helped slow up the development and for this I think the two principal reasons were the lack of early action on the part of the refugees themselves to choose a man who would, in effect, head a government-in-exile, and so energize the whole movement, and the other was the need for keeping the matter as nearly secret as possible. It was clear, of course, that finally all these matters would become known, but under the circumstances that then existed, specific planning was impossible.

All of the above is meant for your eyes only; it may be or may not be helpful. It is one of those things that cannot be completely black or completely white, and we have to deal with it with this truth always in our minds.

Give my love to Betsey and, of course, the best to yourself.

As ever, D.E.

Random Monty Python moment

No particular reason, except that it was alluded to during dinner.

"What's for afters?"

"There's rat cake, rat pie, rat pudding, or strawberry tart"

"Strawberry tart?"

"Well... 's got some rat in it."

"How much rat in it?"

"Five."

Quote of the week

Actually, it's a quote from a different week 45 years ago, but it's a prelude to another post to be finished soon. From an unnamed Cuban exile during the Bay of Pigs invasion, which failed largely because of a lack of nerve on the part of the Kennedy administration:

I am taking to the swamps. I can't wait for you. And you, sir, are a son of a bitch.

No further comment necessary.

Musical Geography Question

Well darn. It turns out that my title to this post would have made a good musical geography question:

If you're livin' on jacks and queens, from where to where are you travelling?

Well duh, it's in the answer to the post. But since no one has yet put the answer in the comments, I'll add this hint

And if luck is the lady that you love the best

and ask the $64 question:

Who in the heck are you?

Back Again

As much as I do like South Florida, I feel melancholy. Part of it is the rain, but more of it is already missing those friends, old and especially new, who I was with in DC and had such a great time with up there: people I desperately wish I could see every day, or at least far more often than I have (you know who you are).

Part of it is reconfirming that, while I'll be spending at least a couple more years here, that's really where I belong.

Natchez to New Orleans

Livin' on jack and queens.

So I cruised up to the ranch this weekend for the dove opener. I missed the opener because I got roped into a meeting Friday (See here for the obligatory Fuck Off). Plus the traffic sucked (naturally) so I didn't get up in time that evening. But yesterday, I took the ranch hand's kid out dove hunting. He didn't hit one, but he got a chance to fling some lead and make some noise. He almost got a shot off at a coyote but it got some brush between them before he could draw a bead, so I blitzed it from the other side. Sadly, I missed another one this morning; bastard was in the sheep pasture. At least I made the bastard run faster than he was running before I let the hammer down.

Anyhoo, I left early this afternoon. Got out on the road and turned on the cell phone. Had a message. Very strange message. Heavy breathing. Giggling in the background. Very odd.

Then I started scanning the radio and came across a public radio station that had a show playing the old cowboy ballads and some bluegrass. Very cool. Some oldies I hadn't heard in years like "Cool Water", "Strawberry Roan", "Don't Take Your Guns to Town". That's where I got the title and first line of this post - 100 lo-cal MBP points to the person who identifies it (small hint: they played it even though it's not, technically, an old cowboy ballad).

Then, while I'm stopped for dinner, I get a call from home. It seems that Daughter Number Two's car decided to drop a muffler in the library parking lot. So fate has decided how I will spend at least part of my holiday tomorrow. Oh well.

So that's my weekend how was yours?

Ben Affleck Is A Tool

Though I suppose it's lucky for him that people do care about the "mundane aspects" of the lives of actors, or else nobody would want to go see his upcoming movie about original Superman George Reeves.

Mementos

It's one-liner day at MementoMoron.

Brian also notes another fine example of non-violence from the peace-loving anti-war crowd

The word guy

He's on the radio right now finishing up, but since I'm swamped with work I missed most of the segment. And I will miss the rerun at 11:00 because some putz called a meeting at 11:00 [this goes in the "Friday Fuck Off" thread too]

One part I did catch is that there is apparently a new slang word making the rounds, in the wake of the recent downgrading of Pluto's status as a planet. A relationship that has withered from passionate to "friends" is referred to as "plutonic".

Oh, and bad news for some of you. He noted that "Presbyterians" is an anagram of "Britney Spears". If this gets around, I suspect we'll see a rather severe drop in membership.

The Friday Fuck Off Thread

This Friday fuck off thread is dedicated to the one and only Nightfly, in the name of everything that "wangs chung."

Have at it, though I would like to take note that while we make regular use of foul language and maintain a general Animal House-type atmosphere around here, please do not tell each other to fuck off. We like being the decent kind of folks that are nice to each other and only talk shit about people behind their backs. You can tell me to fuck off, but Ken or Dave will probably edit your comment, so save yourself the time and be brave enough to e-mail me personally.

No comment

Oh wait, I do have a comment.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The sad part, of course, is that the poor dumb schmuck probably will never get it.