Monosyllabic Pedantry

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

The True Story of Thanksgiving

[The True Story of Thanksgiving)

There has been plenty written about the first Thanksgiving. Seriously, read
a book once in a while and you'll see. It was great because there had been
a good harvest. The white man taught the Indians how to turn corn into
whiskey, and they taught the white man how to smoke dope and turn birch tree
bark into primitive LSD. But it was always meant to be a one time thing.

But the Indians had other ideas. They started to show up every year. While
initially finding the Indians amusing with their clown make-up, flamboyant
headbands, and leather diapers, the white man now realized they were just a
bunch of dirty hippies, sitting around looking for a handout.

Even worse, while the white man just wanted to sit around and watch football
on Thanksgiving; the Indians all wanted to play lacrosse. The Pilgrims knew
lacrosse was a godless, heathen activity and they thought it looked really

True, the white men liked nailing the Indian princesses. They were really
dirty, and you could generally have your choice for just a few beads or some
shiny buttons. And even when you convert that to today's prices; banging a
chick for 50 buttons is still a pretty good deal.

But the Pilgrims had plenty of farm animals to bugger and they liked to
drill holes in pumpkins when they needed immediate sexual gratification.
When their wives found the pumpkins with the holes drilled in them they told
them they were 'jack-o-lanterns' and created a whole phony 'Halloween'
tradition to explain them away. So, the Pilgrims decided to try and make a
clean break with the natives.

They hatched a plan. They would cook up all of the worst shit and feed it
to the Indians. Cook up turkey, which they knew would be dry. Then stuff
it with old, stale bread. Make a sauce out of cranberries which are the
nastiest, sourest fruit. And they would take all of the jack-o-lanterns
(yes, those jack-o-lanterns) that had been lying around in the sun for a
month and make them into pies.

Needless to say it didn't go well. Everyone was pissed and the Indians
sulked around afterwards. Even though they had enjoyed the pumpkin pie,
they didn't even stay to try and find the afikomen.

"If it's so much trouble to cook dinner for us," the Indians said
year, why not just make reservations some place?"

Well, the white men loved the idea of making reservations for the Indians.
It took a couple hundred years for the white man to get around to making all
of them, but soon they stretched across the country and they seemed to work
like a charm. Even the Indians admit dealing blackjack beats dancing to try
and make rain. Plus, they're all pretty numb from the boozing.

I can't believe Indian's still take part in Thanksgiving Day parades, and in
full traditional outfits no less. It always seems to me like Jews taking
part in a celebration of Hitler's birthday and dressing up in concentration
camp outfits.

Now, Americans love Thanksgiving, because now, we don't have to invite
Indians over our houses. Plus, it's another reason to stuff our rich, fat,
American faces. It's not just another excuse to over eat, it's almost
mandatory. If you don't eat until you're bursting on Thanksgiving, you
might as well wipe your ass with the American flag and then strangle your
mother with it while you sodomize her. And I know a lot of you are
thinking, "wipe your ass with the American flag and sodomize your mother?
Isn't that how they celebrate Ramadan?" All I can say to that is I'm not
sure. In my house all we celebrate is something I like to call, 'Hot Sexual

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Shari'a in Oakland?

Hat tip to bareknucklepolitics.

11/27 8PM

A group of about 12 black men, dressed in suits with bow ties, enter a liquor store in Oakland. They tell the owner that "he should not sell alchohol to African Americans", then go about smashing up the place. The whole thing is caught on security video.
They left, without stealing anything, and went to another liquor store in the area and did the same thing again.
Calypso Louis claims he knows nothing about it.

If this isn't the Nation of Islam kooks, it's a damn good frame-up job. My thought is that it probably is those loons and they are feeling inspired by the rioting in Europe.

11/29 7:15 Update:

They came back, kidnapped the owner, and burned down the liquer store.
The owner was released 12 hours later. He confirmed it was the same group.
Fortunately, the cops have said that they have identified six of the thugs responsible. Will they be traced back to the Nation of Islam?

Monday, November 28, 2005

The Rich are getting screwed

My guide to voting got me thinking about our "progressive" tax system. First of all, it's a good rule of thumb that if something is described with the words progressive, justice, or peoples, it's commie doublespeak for you're about to get screwed.
We currently have Karl Marx's version of a taxing system: From each according to their ability to each according to their need. One thing you constantly hear from the commies, and you know who you are, is that the world is so unfair. Let's add this up.
One of the foundations of our country is that we are all equal; we all get equal rights. If you think about it, we fund our government to protect our rights and make sure that everybody is treated the same. So why do some have to pay considerably more than others for the same rights? That doesn't seem fair at all. Now some of you will say that the rich have more rights than the poor. This is patently false according to the system, and that blindfolded chick with the scales and sword. Yes, there is some level of corruption in any system. While some people have a certain adulation for it, people of honor must strive to stomp it out. We don't achieve justice by accepting injustice.
It is in this vein that I feel that we should all pay the same taxes for the same rights. Not that pussy-footed same percentage, that's being bandied around. I mean the same dollar amount. Since the bottom 50% currently pay something like 4% of the taxes, the change will not be too extreme, once half the country kicks in a little something. If all those deadbeats each kicked in $50 a year, it would go a long way.
I can hear the folks on the left already. What about the poor that can't afford to pay even a little. I figure we have a couple of choices. Either they can work in the shock collar and handcart labor camps, or they can forfeit their protection by the state. That's not to say the state would do anything to them; it's just that if they get into a bar fight and get killed, nobody is arrested. Watch how fast they miraculously find the tax money.
The other road to the peoples' equal and fair justice system is progressive civil rights. This would be similar to the old feudal system. If you pay for the first class rights, you get to taser your gardener for bad service.

Personally, I prefer that we all have equal rights. Equal rights for equal pay.

My Neighbors

I've always had strange neighbors. On one side, I now have a young family. I like them; they're quiet. Their little girl is sweet and respectful and all that. The whole family is terrified of my dogs. It may be a cultural thing, since they are black, but usually black folks LOVE my dogs and RAVE about how BEAUTIFUL they are. I have two chocolate labs, so draw your own conclusions on that one. All I know is that my labs are like 110 lbs and black folk love them (except my neighbor) and I used to own a 60 lbs dalmation, as white as snow, that black folks were consistantly terrified of.
Back to my neighbors. For some reason, the mother is the ambassador. I only see them when they need my help and she's always the one that comes over to get me. The first time, Zachary barked at her and the poor women almost fell backwards off my porch.
It went like this:

Neighbor: Do you have a screwdriver?
Me: Sure, what kind do you need?
Neighbor: I don't know?
Me: Well, what are you going to be using it for?
Neighbor: Our car is stuck in the mud in the front yard.
Me: How are you going to use a screwdriver to get a car unstuck?
Neighbor: I don't know.

After much headshaking confusion, I brought over some 1x12 boards and me and the husband pushed the car out.

Last night, the ambassador comes over. She's now about 12 months pregnant. She needs jumper cables. I get them and go over to her house. Her car is in the garage with the front end away from the door. The garage door is closed.

Me: Do you have a car coming here to jump your car with?
Neighbor: Blank stare.
Me: How about if you steer and I'll push the car out of the garage?
Neighbor: OK
Me: I will then bring my truck over and we will use it to jump your car
Neighbor: OK

We get her car jumped and I see the whole family again for the first time in months. They are all very thankful and apologetic.
I just hope they don't try to deliver the baby at home. I won't answer my door.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Straight out of Compton

This cracked me up. Nina Gordon covers NWA's song with her WASPy white girl acoustics


Saturday, November 26, 2005

Talk about a kiss of death

There's a story out of canada about some teenage girl with a Peanut allergy that kissed her boyfriend a few hours after he had a PB&J. She died of shock, despite being given an adrenalin shot.
How fucked up is this kid going to be now? "Yeah, we used to date, but then I killed her with a kiss."

Here's the story.

Help a soldier

This website was started by a wife of a soldier who found out that her husband was sharing the care packages she sent with the other soldiers who didn't have family to send them stuff.

You can send care packages to, you guessed it, any soldier.

It would mean an awful lot more, and be more in the spirit of Christmas, than getting another stupid this or that for some brat that won't appreciate it.

Kill Me

I'm crawling around the house on all fours. Evil Sarcastro came to Atlanta yesterday. He killed off a 5th of Jack Daniels; I did the same on gin. I've come up with a new code phrase for getting really really drunk: Talking with Aunt B's mom.
At least my itinerary only includes vomiting and stopping my hands from shaking. Sarcastro has to go play golf with the family. If you've been reading his blog, you know what a grueling experience that will be. I pity him.
The only thing in the house that might make me feel better is orange juice, but I used it as a mixer last night after the tonic ran out. I don't think I could smell it at this stage.

Sarcastro's last words to me were blasphemy:

Exador: Were there any times when I was too much of an asshole?
Sarcastro: You were a little over the top at the mexican restaurant.
Exador: We went to a mexican restaurant?!
Sarcastro: Jesus Christ

I'm going to go throw up for a while

9:43 Update:
I am trying to force down some soup. It's one of those deals where it takes all of my will to eat, but I know I'll feel better later on. Thank God we ate last night.
I got my soup out of the microwave, got a fork out of the silverware drawer, made to the computer and it wasn't until I dipped the fork into the soup, that I had the epiphany that it's a fork.

Why does my hangover get worse as the day goes by? Shouldn't it get better. I think so.

10:07 Update
I found a picture of my Tick action figures that Sarcastro had positioned obscenely. I thought he had taken the picture, but I just got off the phone with him and he informed me that it was I that took it. Anyhoo, here it is, note the cheesy 80's mullet on the strikingly good looking lad in the photo-within-the-photo.

10:25 Update:

The soup is working. My Wolverine-like recuperative powers are saving me.

3:45 Update:

I'm a new man. I was still feeling a bit peckish, so I headed to my local tavern for beer and food. I'm back in my prime, ready to poison myself again tonight. There's still the other half of the bottle of gin. I need to get tonic.

6:45 Update

I never got tonic, so I'm making Jager bombs. Very tasty as a drink on the rocks, not a shot.
The Red Bull is giving me wings. I never got a nap in, and I'm guessing that passing out for a few hours doesn't equal restful sleep.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Your Xbox or your life

There's a story in the Atlanta paper of a woman who waited in line for nine hours before paying almost $600 for her new Xbox 360, that she was going to give to her son.
Shortly after she got home, there was a knock at the door. A man pushed a gun in her face and stole the Xbox.

I'd like to believe that the thief stole the Xbox for his own use. How fucked up would it be if he stole it to give to his kid as a Xmas gift?
I fantasize that, if it was a gift for his kid, the evil Xbox would insert subliminary messages to the guy's kid whenever he played it.

"KILL YOUR FATHER" would flash on the screen for a moment. Just enough to where the kid would have an inexplicable urge after playing for a while.


The American Dream

While I was on my booze run, I heard a story on NPR. The story was about a french woman that is moving to America because she can't get a job in France. You see, employers have to prove to the government that they are justified in firing a worker. The red tape is so bad that almost nobody ever gets fired. The result is that nobody ever hires anybody. What they do is hire interns. They only have to pay interns 300 euros a month, and they can fire them without the red tape. Some people work as interns for several years.
This girl had been an intern and now she wants a real job. She actually said, in her sexy french accent, "You can't pursue the American Dream without living in America".

I shit you not. That's what she said.

If we could get rid of Chirac, and put HER in charge, France might have a chance.

OK, I fell off the wagon

Allright, look. The whole reason I went on this purge was to get rid of the gout, right? The main cause of the gout is brewer's yeast, so as long as I don't drink beer, it's not so bad.
That's, my story and I'm sticking to it.
Mrs Schwartz came over and cooked me a ham, which was very nice, and delicious. She soon fell asleep on the couch, which she does a lot. There's been talk that she's narcoleptic.
So there I was, watching Return of the Living Dead III, which I've seen twice already. And I'm sober. I can't go anywhere because nothing is open. I couldn't take it anymore. I started by drinking some of the white wine that she brought over. After I killed that bottle, I went out for a run. I had not bought any booze in advance because (all together now) I quit drinking! (Fuck off)
I went to Publix, then to my two local booze emporiums, all of which were closed. I then went to Walmart; score one for the MAN! Walmart is open. I got two bottles of wine, some chips and dip, a pumpkin pie, and Kool Whip. We all had pie. I gave Montgomery and Zachary each a dollup(?) of Kool Whip in a bowl. They loved it. For the dog owners out there, I recommend freezing Kool Whip and serving it to dogs. Mine wasn't frozen, so the boys got through it pretty quickly. Mrs Schwartz was very appreciative of her pie and Kool Whip, then fell asleep again.

Now I'm watching a History Channel show on the Spanish American war. I think I may start reading The Chronicles of Narnia. I got it a few days ago. I've never read it and the movie ads looked good.

Oh yeah, I have to go shopping tomorrow! I know, I'd rather open a vein than get into that melee, but I need a hard drive. I finally convinced my boss that my computer sucks. He let me get the parts for a new one and I just finished building it. It's smoking.

For the geeks: It's got a 3.4 GHz, Pentium 4, Xeon, dual core processor with hyperthreading, an 800 MHz front side bus, 1 GB of 533 DDR2 RAM, and 1 MB of L2 cache.

Smoking fast!

Like I'm not gonna drink once Sarcastro gets here?

Exador's guide to Voting

Georgia just tried to pass a law, requiring picture ID for voting. If you listen to the usual cast of race pimps, you'd think they lynched someone from the Georgia Capital Dome. The ink wasn't dry on the new law, which was approved by the feds in accordance with the Voting Rights Act, before there was a lawsuit, and a judge in Rome (how fitting) deemed it to be an "undue burden".
I don't think anybody really knows how much voter fraud is going on. The democrats say none. The republicans say it's rampent. Certainly, there are plenty of illegals running around, and I'd bet my sombrero that some of them vote. It's common knowledge that the democrats favorite past time is getting those, who are ineligible to vote, to the polls. The homeless, the unregistered, felons. Ya know, their base.
One thing is for certain, there's a reason why both sides are so passionate about this. It tells me that both sides think that their numbers will change with the passage of the law. Which would lead one to believe that there is significant voter fraud, and it leans democratic.
Personally, I think that anything that moves the process closer to fraud-free, is a good thing.
Since the race pimps live 40 years in the past, they were arm-in-arm on a march, chanting about how it's a "poll tax", even though you could get an ID for free. Even though they even proposed a mobile ID unit that would go to your house and hand you a free ID if you're too much of a loser to stand in line.
Personally, I'm in favor of a poll tax. I want less people voting, not more. I wish more people would appreciate the sanctity of voting. All I've heard, generally from democrats, is how the only thing that's important is that everone gets out there and votes. This is total horse shit. If you have no idea what's going on; if you vote based on who has the best hair, or who kisses their wife the best, please don't vote. If the only things you know about politics, you learned from the Daily Show, Entertainment Tonight, or political hack ads, please don't vote. If you can't name your two senators and your representative, please don't vote. I'd like to see, not only a poll tax, but a test for literacy and general knowledge of the issues and candidates.
Neal Boortz once recommended that the country should be run like a corporation. I think this is an excellent idea. We should start with voting.
We should have a graduated system of voting, like we have for taxes. If you are on the dole; if you take welfare, food stamps, etc, you do not get a vote. If you're on the government teat, you don't get to steer the ship. Next, if you pay between nothing and, say, $1000 in taxes per year, you get one vote. $1000 to $5000, you get two votes. You get the idea.
Not only would this be an excellent incentive to get off welfare, it would do wonders for getting the vote-buying politicians to reduce the funding for it.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Zachary goes to the park

(Zachary, with his Bill Clinton chewtoy)

I had a magnificent post almost completed. It was Exador's Guide to Voting and it was pure gold; however, my computer inexplicably froze up as I neared the end. I took this as a sign from the FSM* that I needed to change my thinking. So I went in search of cider. For some reason there has been no cider in any of the grocery stores all autumn. I think I've found one jug since August. Since I quit drinking, I need something to fill the void.
It was more of an excuse to take Zachary out for a drive. I haven't taken him anywhere since he hurt his leg, and he's been going bonkers. He's too stupid to take it easy and I didn't want him to hurt his leg worse when it's in a fragile phase. I thought a drive would be good although I was worried about him getting in and out of the truck.
I went to Publix and they had one jug of cider, all the way in the back, that had been crushed. Cider in hand, I went back out to the truck and Zachary was as giddy as ever. I just couldn't take him home. It was perfect dog weather. So I took him to our town square. I found a spot where the sidewalk is raised about two feet over the road. I carefully backed my truck up to allign my tailgate with the sidewalk. "Easy", I warned Zachary as I dropped the gate.

POW! He's off like a bat out of hell, completely clearing the sidewalk as he launches off the tailgate. "Zachary!" I yell, since we're in the middle of the town square. There are a few people around. Normally, he's a well behaved dog. He'll come back to me, he'll heal, sit, lie down; all the good stuff. I didn't even bother to bring the leash because he's that well behaved, usually. Tonight, he didn't even pretend to listen. I went chasing after him as he ran around, following little scent trails, then losing them and finding new ones.
Eventually, he calmed down enough to remember who I was. That's when it was all worthwhile. He ran back to me. He'd still completely lost his mind. He was jumping at me and away from me, checking into my leg and jumping up to grab my hand. The whole time, he had this attitude and look like "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
It was great. After that, he walked beside me, still barely able to contain his excitement. As we neared the truck to go home, he bolted 90 degrees to the right and circled the edge of the park at full run. When we reached the truck, the little bastard actually hesitated jumping in, like it scared him. Faker.
He's been following me around like I'm a God since we got home. He keeps nudging my arm as I type.
He may be limping tomorrow, but if I was him, I wouldn't want it otherwise.

*Flying Spaghetti Monster


Let the Purging Begin!

I'm getting pissed that the gout is still nagging me, so I'm taking action. I'm going to quit drinking between now and Xmas.

I'm probably going to New York to visit the family for Festivus. I'd like to reduce this tire, as well as clear out my reserves, as there will undoubtedly be drinking involved wherever family is concerned.

It won't be easy because my company's Xmas party is the 3rd, and I hear that it's usually a big, drunken blowout.

Maybe it's best that I'm not drinking.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

More Torture!

I'm fed up with all the bitching and moaning of our treatment of terrorists. I honestly can't understand how someone could pitch a defense of these bastards with a straight face.

The first mantra of the America haters is "Geneva Conventions"! Well guess what? The terrorists we're fighting have as much to do with the Geneva Conventions as do Martians. The GC very clearly define exactly who is protected and the terrorists don't fit the bill.

(Art 4) "Prisoners of war, in the sense of the present Convention, are persons belonging to one of the following categories, who have fallen into the power of the enemy"
  • "Members of the armed forces"
  • "militias...including those of organized resistance movements...having a fixed distinctive sign recognizable at a distance...conducting their operations in accordance with the laws and customs of war"
So I would hope that we can all agree that they do not qualify; therfore, we are not obligated to treat them in accordance with the GC. What's next?

The second Mantra is that we must treat them well so that they treat our guys humanely when they are captured. This is a joke, since they routinely torture our guys to death and then mutilate their corpes and hang them from a bridge.

Let me take all of this one step further. Not only do we have no obligation to not torture terrorists, I submit that we have an obligation to torture them.

It comes down to simple training. They have no incentive to abide by the GC because there's no downside for them. Whatever they do, we'll dutifully abide by it. But, if we start getting on CNN and saying, "Look, these guys obviously aren't submitting to it, so until they start wearing uniforms and treating out guys properly, we are going to torture all al queda that we catch".

What are they going to do? Cheat worse? We are letting them dictate the parameters of this war, and those parameters are that we are hamstrung while they are free to do whatever.

Of course the pussies in France are going to start bitching. Listening to the French lecture on war is like listening to Jimmy Carter lecture on being a good President. Tell ya what, Jacque, how about you guys WIN a war that entails gunpowder, THEN come and tell us how to wage war, you cheese eating surrender monkey.
So when Kofi starts bitching, tell him to invade us with that great UN army. What? ya say WE are the UN army? Well, Kofi, I guess you can fuck off then.

The most ridiculous part is that we don't even have to REALLY torture them. The stupid primates are so freaked out by pork and menstual blood, that's all we'd need. Every al queda we catch gets neatly wrapped in bacon and shot in time for CNN's evening broadcast. Watch how long the war on terror lasts after that.

We're in Serious Trouble

A few weeks ago, I went to San Fransisco for business. The event was called the Intel Developers' Forum. It's basically a week long infomercial that Intel makes all of its partners go to and drink the Intel-as-a-religion Koolaid.
This is the first one of these that I've been to. What struck me the most about it was the Chinese. There were a lot of Chinese. Granted, it's in SF and there's a large Chinese-American population. That's not of whom I'm speaking. I mean Chinese-from-China. There were a lot of them and they're very serious. They had two UN-style translator booths that rented headphones. The curse of WI-FI meant that they all transcribed all of the presentations into their laptops and IM'd it back to their companies all over the world.
The main theme of the week was how Intel is expanding its market into Asia. They are bringing their best technology to China, India and Pakistan. Also not good for us.
Everyone's been screaming lately about jobs going overseas. Until recently, these jobs were blue collar, so nobody that made decisions really cared. That's not the case now. It moved to programmers, which was still pretty limited. You didn't need to speak the language very well, so long as you could bang out C++ code for pennies on what an American coder would charge.

Here's the key:

Up until now, communication still limited the amount of work these guys could do without actually coming to America. Not anymore. Now they can write code, do AutoCad mechanical designs, circuit board layout, active simulation of the circuits, and debug the design. All the while, they can pass their work back and forth to the American company via email. They can easily have a teleconference between Atlanta and Bangladesh. Since manufacturing is already there, they can prototype the design, then send the finished product to America. Not only are they linked with the US, they are linking a network infrastructure throughout their own countries. It has always been the lack of this level of communication and connectivity that has hamstrung them in the past and provided us with the advantage. That time is gone.
That brings me to the other part of this.
Chinese, Indian and Pakistani schools don't give a shit about affimative action, sex education, political correctness, or whether the local LGBT alliance is properly represented. They are teaching their kids science, mathematics, english and business. They are training their children to run the world, while we train ours to be sensitive to everone's feelings. They think we coddle blacks and latinos and bring education to the lowest common denominator, which is pretty fucking low. We worry and worry about the poor, fucking poor, and the minorities. Asians are very competitive and are interested in results, including the poor ones.
Make no mistake; these countries, China in particular, have a very specific plan for running the world. Not in a Ming the Merciless way, but in the way that America currently runs the world. The Chinese are nortorious for having very long term plans. Decades long. I am certain that they are in the middle, and getting towards the end, of a plan that resuts in them being the dominant economic power, quickly being followed by them being the dominant political, and then military power.
I see nothing that would lead me to believe that they will not succeed in this. It's coming.

Detroit News, Tuesday, January 18, 2005: Forty-seven percent of Detroit’s adult population is functionally illiterate.

New York Daily News, May 10, 2005: A stunning 81% of the city's eighth-graders flunked the state's basic social studies exam last year - and the scores have gone down annually since the test debuted in 2001.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Is Zarqawi following the Megalomaniac Path?

I read today that Abu Musab al-Zarqawi has posted an audio tape on one of those terrorist websites. In the tape, he says how he did not intend to blow up a muslim wedding.
There's no question that he is posting what amounts to an apology, as a result of the huge protests that are going on in Jordan. It appears that the "muslim street" is none too happy with being on the receiving end of a C4 vest. Terrorists aren't supposed to kill innocent muslims, ya see.
Thousands demonstrated in Jordan, shouting "Al-Zarqawi, you coward." and carrying banners that read "Al-Zarqawi, you are the enemy of God."
In Zarqawi's home town, many residents denounced him, saying that he had lost any sympathy he had there.
This is pretty big news. It got me thinking that maybe (hopefully) Zarqawi had bitten off more than he could chew. Not that the US military isn't already a lot to chew, but Zarqawi's existence is dependant on his getting support from the Arab street. He needs that support to hide him, transport him, fund him, as well as a ton of other logistical support.
I'm hoping that he has done what previous megalomaniacs have done. They get to thinking that they are invincible, and that they are destined to conquer the world.
Like Napolean, and then Hitler, invading Russia, Bin Laden started bombings in Saudi Arabia and now Zarqawi has started bombings in Jordan. There's no question that he's losing support in Iraq. Nobody likes living with the possibility of being collateral damage and most muslims aren't comforted by the idea that they died as an accidental casualty of the jihad.
Now the countries of Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Libya, and even the Palestinians, are complaining about al queda.
Of course, what they say in english isn't what they say in arabic, but it's a start. The most important part is that the mob has started expressing a different opinion.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Rising or Settling to the Challenge

I've discovered that I pretty much adapt to whatever job I'm undertaking. Let me explain.
I few months ago, I broke out some of my textbooks from when I was a Physics major in college. It turns out that I used to be a pretty smart guy! Now it all looks like greek. I tried to follow along and got nowhere. I saw where I had highlighted something or made notes in the margin. At the time, I knew all this stuff. Now, nothing. I think I know what people mean when they say, "He's FORGOTTEN more about this than we'll ever know." It's not the compliment I used to think it was.
Taking my current job, was a bit of a step down for me, both in pay and aptitude. I took it for several reasons:

1) I'd been laid off and was without work, and it was winter.
2) I'd be working for a guy that I'd worked for before that I knew that I really liked him, and he is brilliant.
3) The company is a small, family-owned and operated business; not corporate at all.
4) I have a very good chance of moving into a very important position in the company.
5) The job dealt with new (for me), very hi-tech design work that would give me good

Shortly after I started working there, I found myself sliding to a...let's say, less professional, less skilled level than I was working at before. I basically dumbed down to my job description.
Not too bad, mind you, but I felt it.
Recently, I've been promoted (Yay!). IMMEDIATELY afterwards, I found myself sharper. I was more confident in my decisions, I was multi-tasking better without forgetting details. I was on my "A" game, if you will.
I started thinking how I had done that on all my previous jobs. My first (real) one in Atlanta was a very small, screwed up company. I was thrown into a bunch of different job rolls that I had NO experience with. After a while, I was pretty good at just about every aspect of business AND the technical stuff.
At a later job, I was micromanaged to death. Not only was I afraid to make a decision, I forgot HOW to make decisions. I'd lost it.

Wierd, huh?

Thursday, November 17, 2005

My next dog will be little

I came home from work and Zachary had gotten "sick", and I don't mean vomiting. When you have a 100+ lbs dog with an irritable bowel, it's not an inconvenience. It's a major event.
I walk through the door and the smell hits me like a punch to the nose. The first thing I see is Zachary, sitting sheepishly in the corner and wagging just the tip of his tail, like he wants to pretend everything's fine without drawing any attention to himself. I can't get mad at him because I know that it KILLS him to go in the house. He would never do it unless he absolutely had to. The other reason is that, since puppyhood, he has somehow figured out that, if ya gotta go, it's best to go in the kitchen. Thank God. If this happened on my carpet, I'd just burn down the house and collect the insurance money.
By now, I've been driven back outside and I'm slowly desensitizing my sense of smell. I hear medieval tanners made use of this technique. I work my way back into the house, turning on all the ceiling fans, opening all the windows and doors. I even turned on the vent fan over the stove. The other little quirk that my dog has, is that he feels the need to keep moving during the big event. I don't know if he's ashamed, if the smell gets to him too; maybe he's just grossed out and wants to get away. Who knows? The result is that, instead of having one, big pile to clean up, he's left some sort of crop circle pattern all over the kitchen.
The clean up is a complex problem involving wet mopping bleach water all over, then following it with a dry mopping. The whole time, Zachary lays on the floor at the entrance to the kitchen, trying to look cute and repentant.
Maybe a jack russell, or even better, a guinea pig.

The big fuzzball did it again. He came to the edge of the bed and made squeeky noises at SOME time this morning. Usually, this will wake me up, but he's been kind of a whiner lately and I haven't been getting enough sleep, so I grumbled "Shut up, Zachary" and fell back asleep. The smell woke me up at 5:30. He seems to be getting a little better, but I can't wait to get home tonight.


Thursday, November 10, 2005

Georgia's Embarassment

Georgia Congresswoman, Aunt Jemima, er, Cynthia McKinney, has submitted a bill to track down the killers of Tupac Shakur. Yeah, I've been up nights wondering who killed Tupac and why they haven't they been brought to justice.
He was in a car with Suge Knight! I'm guessing bullets fly at Suge Knight like panties to Tom Jones on ANY night of the week. I figure you take your chances when you ride around with him.

Either way, does this rise to the level of requiring the US government to get involved?

This is not the first time Congress' favorite commie has embarrassed herself. Immediately after 911, she was floating the idea that George Bush was involved in the planning of 911 so his "buddies could make a bunch of money" from the certain war that would follow. Shortly after that, the list of donors to her campaign read like a who's who of Islamic organisations. You do the math.


Aunt Jemima was one of only 3 members of the House to vote in favor of a bill that called for an immediate "fall of Saigon" style evacuation of Iraq.

The Churchbell Chimed till it Rang 29 times.

Today is the 30th anniversary of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitgerald. I'm from upstate NY, so this was a pretty big story back there. I've been on all the Great Lakes, as well as Whitefish Bay. Gordan Lightfoot writing, what is unquestionably his best song, certainly helped to keep the story alive. That man's haunting voice style is made for songs about disaster.

All that remains are the faces and the names of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Rest in Peace.

Thank God Babs is here to clear this up

Yes, the incredibly ignorant blowhard, Barbara Streisand, has felt the need to chime in and call for the President's impeachment. If there ever was a person who is, as me Pappy always said, "Breathing air a good dog could have", it's her.

"If there was ever a time in history to impeach a President of the United States, it would be now. In my opinion, it is two years too late. We should have done this before the election...."

That's right. We wouldn't want the ignorant peasants choosing their OWN government. That's what DIVA's are for.

"Let us remember that UN weapons inspectors asked for more time to search Iraq for WMDs. Two months into their search, the Director General of the UN's International Atomic Energy Agency, Mohamed ElBaradei, stated that he found no evidence that Iraq had revived its nuclear weapons program since its elimination in the 1990s. And Saddam Hussein had begun to comply with the administration's demands. Why would you invade a country if there was still a chance for peace? "

Yeah, as Saddam led them around by their dicks. Let's forget that he'd been doing that for what?, 12 years. I guess Babs didn't get the memo on the 500 tons of Uranium, much of it enriched. Or how about the centifuges whose sole purpose is for nuclear weapons? How about the documents recovered from Iraqi intelligence that stated that the nuclear program was ready to be restarted as soon as sanctions could be lifted?

"His policies have contributed to the hastening of global warming, an ever growing national debt, a rise in poverty and an increasing disparity between the rich and the poor. "

How much are YOU worth these days, Babs?

"With the recent controversy surrounding the potential indictments and charges of perjury against senior members of the Bush administration, some have made comparisons to the perjury charge that was brought against President Clinton. Perjury under any circumstance is wrong. However, in President Clinton’s situation, the matter was concerning an issue that only adversely affected himself and his family. But the potential charges filed against Bush’s closest advisors have put everybody’s families and the national security of the United States at risk. "

Let's compare. We have Scooter Libby being charged for what is probably a bad memory, but let's say he WAS obstructing and lying on purpose. It was over a crime that NEVER happened! No one is being charged with outing that dumb bimbo because she and her eunich husband had her outed long before any of that. It was common knowledge who she was and nobody cared, because she hadn't been "in the field" for years.
Clinton, on the other hand, had a private citizen bringing him to court of a sexual assault, by him, against her. There's no question that Mr "I never had sexual relations with that woman", was lying.
So yes, tell me what is worse, Babs. Lying about a crime that didn't happen, or denying a woman redress for a sexual assault.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

The Golden Rule

I miss common courtesy. I know this topic's been flogged, but, damnit, I'm flogging it again. What the fuck is wrong with people? I'm a big fan of the Golden Rule. It's simple. Even your average troglodyte on the street can figure it out. The following is from just this week!
I'm at the customer counter at Sam's club, waiting patiently behind one person for my turn. Up walks a late 50's woman who stands at the end of the counter. I'm watching her, thinking, Bitch. She's one of those idiots "who only want to ask a quick question.", like I'm there to read War and Peace to the staff. Before the person in front of me is even DONE, the bitch yells to the counter-girl and engages her in whatever her fucking problem was. Kudos to the employee because after listening politely, she grabbed another worker and said, "Britney will be happy to help you." Then turned to help me. This is the sort of thing that will keep me pissed off all day, primarily because I'm too much of a pussy to lay into the bitch with a screaming tirade, like she deserves. I tell myself I'm better than that, to scream at a stupid hag, but then I beat myself up all day for not doing it.
Today, I go to use the atm in front of Publix. A mid 50's woman (I seem to have a problem with this demographic) is fumbling her way through the technological labrynth that is automated banking. Naturally, this nitwit isn't just withdrawing fastcash. No, she's doing a fucking hostile takeover of Bellsouth via the atm. None of this got me worked up. What DID, is that after she finished and got her card back, she stood there reading all of her paperwork without moving the hell out of the way. I can see MYSELF in the bubble mirror. I can see HER in the bubble mirror. Why can't she see ME, pacing back and forth, in the bubble mirror?
I'm getting a sub for lunch at the same Publix. The woman in line in front of me is trying to place her order, but there is a shopping cart directly in front of the sub-counter. The cart has an open soda in it and some sundry items. The woman, finally, says, "I'm going to move this", and pushes the cart just to the side. My order comes up. While I'm placing it, I can see this sheepish woman still ordering (there were two sub makers) and still having to deal with the cart in the way. By now, the voice in my head is saying, "when I'm done with my order, I'm going to move that cart about 50 feet away". Before I'm done with my order, this TRASH-looking couple come over and gets their cart. They were right around the corner of the counter. They could see the same difficulty the woman was having that I saw. They apparently didn't think anything of it. Again, my little voice is just DYING to tear into them and tell them what inconsiderate assholes they are and how do fucktards like them FUNCTION?, YOU COMPLETE FUCKING MORONS!
I guess I have a thing about not screaming at women, because when it's a man acting like a chowderhead, I have no problem explaining the facts of life to him. I guess that's probably best. It still eats me up, though.


I suppose that my treating women differently than men means that I am upholding the Patriarchy, at least according to the man-hating feminist lesbian witch covens.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Old Man Disease

Maybe it's a bad idea to start off the blog with a big, whiney cryfest, but what the heck. It's supposed to be reasonably current event-ish, right?
The main current event is that my stupid gout has sprung up. I know, add your favorite pirate immitation "Arrggghh" here.
The short version is that it's ALSO called hyperuricemia and it's basically when your blood is too acidic. If it's acidic enough, then uric acid salts fall out of solution and crystalize in the joints of your foot, much like that candy crystal experiment we did in science class. Having needle-shaped crystals in your joints is roughly the equivalent of chewing broken glass. Fortunately, it only (!) takes my blood a few days to get back to normal, so it's not enough for me to learn anything or change my lifestyle.
A big contributor is beer and bar food, and I have been known to tip the occasional lager. I can fall off the wagon without limping, most of the time, but if said wagon is rolling downhill, and it takes me a while to hop back on, I pay the piper. That's what's happened these past few Halloweens; I end up drinking for three solid day, then pay for it for about a week.
I may just be feeling empathy pains for my dog, Zachary. About 6 weeks ago, Zachary quit using one of his back legs. He'd hop around on three until I took him to vet and found out that he may have "football knee". I didn't know he could operate the doorknob, let alone organize enough local dogs for a game. Zachary is 8.5 years old; no spring chicken, but not with one paw in the grave either. I've got him on the same anti-inflammatories that I'm taking. So long as he's on his meds, he's fine. The vet tells me that, if they have to operate on him, it'll be over $1000. Please pray to the flying spaghetti monster that it's not a torn ligament. I've been spoiling him with eggs and rice and ice cream, so his cholesterol may do him in first.

The Springboard

OK, succumbing to peer pressure, and the fact that I'm unable to throw many of my little quips into other blogs, I've started this. I'll post more as soon as I figure out what the hell I'm doing.

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