Mar 31, 2008

If You Don't Know Where You're Going...


All roads lead there:

Two weeks into this blogging bit and the Instapundit graced me with that first bar of hits there in August. I don't know what his motive is for doing this to new bloggers, because he has been pretty good about giving a big, fat shove to many a newbie, but it motivated me to the point of distraction. Ack!

And so, we thank the BlogFather for all gifts bright and good. I guess I wanted him to not feel his gracious link was wasted. I know and respect the amount of work he puts into his website, so I really do appreciate all he's done for bloggers and blogging.

I know for sure I wouldn't have wanted to keep up this gig without that first bar being set so high. So the dubious blessing of an Instalanche has enslaved me to my own need to surpass that first bar. Et voila! This month closes with a bang and I finally beat the Instalanche month. I'm exhausted.

Heh.

This month I have to thank the nice doggies over at the Emperor's place f or quite a few, as well as Denny, Rachel, GuyK, and Don Surber's blogs from whence I link-whored my way--either directly from them, or brazenly in the comments-- into new readers. And I guess my rants are popular. Who knew?

But the regulars know who they are, and deserve a special thanks for hanging out with me through these last 8 months with job changes, weird YouTubes, a blog meet, and politics. Elisson is my venerable GodFather, having provided me with my first linkage, and Erica is my GodMother providing me with funny links of encouragement and praise and my first blog award!
Now that I'm thoroughly addicted, I expect the Jolly Roger will have to attend more Blogaholics Anonymous meetings in order to understand the affliction, and to understand why I haven't folded the laundry in six months.

No, I have no idea what this blog is all about. Too much trouble to think about. Where is it headed? I'll let you know when I know, ye muckle-headed, mop-wielding, deck-swabbing bilge rats!

Now, where's my rum?


Mar 30, 2008

Road Rant: Merging with Idiots


It does no good to tell people about the physics of merging into traffic. Either from on ramps, or from one lane to another.

I don't have a problem with anyone jumping in front of me, as long as they keep moving. I don't back off to make more room between me and them. I figure that if they want in front of me, taking up my safety space, then they'd better like me on their ass like an ugly wart.

But just keep moving, dammit! We can space ourselves out more gently and keep traffic flowing. But if you jump into a tight space and hit your brakes because you're too close to the car in front, and now you're having a freakout, it becomes not only MY problem, but the problem of everyone behind me and you, ya little porcupine quill!

Bad driving isn't just dangerous, it's selfish. You don't like the view in your lane, you've got the cruise control on, the car in front of you is going 1.5 mph slower so you amble into the left lane. Sure, you checked the mirror and saw me in the left lane going 5 mph faster than you, but why should YOU have to hit your brakes and reset your cruise control, when you can pull out in front of me and take 10 minutes to pass the schmuck in the right lane?

When you see people cursing you in your rear-view mirror, they are usually justified. You can pontificate and posture all you want, but you can't argue with science.



(h/t to the Beancounter, who has never once even said hello, in my comments or hers. But I like, and link, her blog anyway, the snotty dooshbag!)



One thing I'm proud of about my German bloodlines is that those Krauts understand the science of traffic. On the Autobahn you'll get pulled over and ticketed for cruising in the left lane. It's a crime! It's dangerous, and they know it. You're expected to use it for passing only. That's why they have so few accidents, even at the high speeds. The Germans understand the hazards of speed difference, the idiocy of slowing down to merge into traffic, and the idiocy of slowing down to let someone into traffic flow.

It's expensive to get a license to drive in Germany. And you have to pass a real test. You don't see too many snot-nosed teenagers over there using their accelerator pedal as an extension of their little manhood while their brains haven't fully formed yet.

THE INTERSTATE IS NOT SOME PLACE TO BE "COMPASSIONATE" to the idiot who doesn't understand merging. You are endangering everyone behind you when you slow down to let someone merge from the on ramp. STOP IT!!! If you do anything, speed up and make some room behind you. In the first iteration on that traffic link, you can see that everything's going smoothly until some idiot runs to the end of the ramp and stops. This shortens the accerleration ramp (the true, technical term for that stretch of road you think is for dialing your cell phone) for the big truck that needs every yard of it to get up to speed for the merge. You're being a stupid, selfish, cowardly nincompoop when you chicken out at the end of the on ramp.

Watch that traffic link. Go ahead and try out the different scenarios over there. You may find out that YOU are the idiot everyone is talking about when they describe the awful traffic they encountered on the way home from work.

PLEASE STAY HOME IF DRIVING CORRECTLY SCARES YOU!

And stay home if driving skillfully confuses you, bores you, or is too much of an interruption in your sales calls, arguments, eating, shaving, drum solos, car-tune karaoke rehearsals, or parenting duties.

Can I get a witness?

P.S. Blinkers. Try 'em, you'll like 'em!


Mar 29, 2008

Creds for Home Study: Pirate Ships!

How can you even hope to be a lowly pole-sitter in the crow's nest if you don't know what you're looking for, ye scurvy rickett-boned bilge rat, ye? Now there's a thing to ponder upon your bunk, instead of dreamin' of home, or pining for the company of some syphilitic trollop at the pub.

Danger at sea took on many forms once you found yourself bounding the Spanish Main. Just the mere shape of a rigged ship could cause the heartiest sailor's blood to run cold. A good lookout would know just the sort of trouble one could expect when a frigate was spied along the horizon: plenty.

Not unlike the way the very shape of a Ford Crown Vic could cause heart-stoppage for anyone zooming along the back roads of a small Georgia County during the 70's. For sure, you were going to be hailed, hove-to, and scuttled by some mirrored-sunglass wearing County Mountie.


Look sharp there, now. What do you see?

Click the pic to embiggen and read. There will be a test later! Argghh!

Missed a session? Go here.

Mar 28, 2008

Darda: Why Wasn't I Told About This?? Want!!!

Darda race cars. No batteries or electricity. Defying gravity, running the sort of race course that Hot Wheels could only dream of. Oh hell yeah, the Jolly Roger's getting this for his birthday. I know, I know, he really wants another March 14 deal. Too bad!

See for yourself the awesomeness that is Darda:



Mar 27, 2008

Words Fail Me--

With or without sound, it's just... I... uh... oh just watch it:


Mar 25, 2008

My Incredible Power to Own Black People!

Oh, not all Black people, just the folks of Trinity United 's congregation... they are MINE!

It seems I was just born this way. My very existence keeps them down. I know! I'm as surprised as the next Typical White Person. I was brought up in a home where prejudice against other peoples was considered the height of stupidity.

Unfortunately, I was never taught how much power I had just by the fact of my mere existence; or how harshly I would be judged for exerting that power over the Black Man just by being my cheerful, unassuming White Self.

I never felt any guilt about being white, or any pity about my friends and school mates being black. We just were. The media's insistence on inflaming racism didn't change my perspective about my friends, or give me great traction in the politicized world of racism. I just went on liking or disliking people based on how they treated me personally.

So White. And American. So naive.

All the while, I apparently have been amassing great hordes of Black churchgoers who are convinced that I own them.

Because who is more a slave than the person that allows another to dictate one's inner dialog? I have the amazing ability to make quite a few Black people sad, angry, bitter, disappointed, and consumed with irrational thoughts about their own behavior. I make their life miserable, I guess. I've kept them from succeeding in business, law, the arts, education, finance, politics and science. (The Black people who have succeeded were also owned by me, apparently, and have nothing at all to be proud of. You see, I made their success possible, so eager were they to please me.)

Yep. I am pretty damn powerful and heartless.

Thousands of Black Chicagoans can do aught but think about me and my Whiteness. I drive their psychological bus every day; because whether they believe it or not, they ask me to.

Every time they decide to think the thoughts they think about me, and become angry and resentful... well, they are allowing me to tell them who they are. I am a deep and stubborn unconscious script that owns their identity. They cannot define themselves except against the template of their hate for me. I am the god of their fears, so they mock and curse my immutable Whiteness with brave posturing, to convince themselves that I am powerless over them. Of course, I never actually show up there at their church. I mean, why should I? They've already painted a picture of me they like far better. It suits their purposes, and I don't have to commute from my far-away throne of White.

I wonder at the definition of someone who would encourage them to enslave themselves to that sort of mindset... I wonder what he gets out of it, besides the tithes, I mean?

So, whether I want to or not, I own these poor men and women. Except, I never signed for them, much less ordered them. They were sold a bill of goods in exchange for their own sense of self, and continually keep paying for their chosen slavish mindset. Like some rent-to-own contract of manufactured self-esteem; the resolution they seek is costly and unattainable.

Well, I'm willing to do many things to help you, my fellow human being sitting there in the mega-church in Chicago, but I'm not going to go away in order to prove to you that I am not your problem.

And I haven't plotted to develop hard-won skills in my life just to keep you from your dreams. I've worked hard because the world is a pitiless shark-pool of competition and I don't have the luxury of a conscience that allows me to expect someone else to back off and give me a chance. Because they won't.

You know, the world doesn't just screw Black people over, the world screws everybody over. That's its job. Our job is to not let real or imagined circumstance define us.

So, you can go on blaming me for everything you think, do, and say. But as long as you think I'm your problem, then I'm your master.

It's just all so tiresome.


Oh. Stay tuned. Next week will all be about Black "Survivor" Guilt: Making Whitey Pay Because I Was Spared the Horrors of Racism and Went on to Make Quite a Lot of Money, Which Has Alienated Me From the "Real" and Epic "Black Experience" and Now I Shall Have to Live a Dull and Ordinary Life as a Successful and Happy Person, G-d Damn You, America!

Mar 23, 2008

Pirate Sunset


Friday night sunset on Treasure Island. It's the stuff that dreams are made of.

(God must be a Gator, what with all the blue and orange.)

Mar 21, 2008

Argghh! Off to Treasure Island!

Later, peeps.


Sunny, balmy 70's, white sand and gentle waves. Spending time with brother and SIL, part of the normal side of the family. Have no idea why they invited me, however.


Counting on it.

When we lived in Mexico City, I learned to count money in the first method shown on this short video. Apropos of nothing; it's just a neat little look into the things that make us different around the world.

Nowadays, I just count my money like a Typical White Person: looking around furtively for threatening brown people who want to steal my sweet, sweet loads of cash.



How People Count Cash? - video powered by Metacafe


(Man, Obama is the gift that just keeps on giving to the blogosphere!)

Mar 20, 2008

Absinthe... on a stick.

Not sure why this made me think of Erica.


Where else but, Uncrate?

LOLObama!


Make your own, then let Marc know. He's got the LOLObama-rama kicked off over there.

Don't tell the kids - II

If you haven't bookmarked Bent Objects before, today is a good day to do so. He's scored a book deal, so y'know, go get to know him now before he gets all famous.

Let Me In!

Mar 19, 2008

Don't tell the kids...


Pic yoinked from

Last of the Few.

Mar 17, 2008

Job Redirect, Chapter 27

The longed-for job in art sales never amounted to enough hours. I loved the work, the people, the tourists, but just never had enough to do. After 5 weeks I was still only getting about 8 - 15 hours a week. It would've been okay but it just wasn't enough to really sink my teeth into.

So my two months' worth of slack left me with plenty of time to consider my next move in my career. The thought of the huge corporate path now left me with the cold sweats, when just two months ago I thought I'd snagged a big fish in that ocean (I was spared!).

The idea of the manic commute to the big city north of here wasn't floating my boat either, not with the price of gas. But the opportunities in a small tourist town don't lend themselves for many Marketing/Admin jobs that haven't been snapped up in the alarming crush of new residents; refugees from the Big City to the North. It's mostly mom and pop businesses here that can't afford much in the way of pay or benefits.

But yesterday I found my job, staring back at me from the want ads. "Non-profit organization needs office manager." I Googled the fax number, found out the name of the very laudable organization, (hmmm... six miles from home) dug a bit deeper and found an email address and a name. I emailed my resume with a subject line that read, "I want this job!" interviewed today, and tomorrow I start. At the same pay I was making at my last full time job... Believe It or Not!

Smug Long Before There Were Hybrids

Dr. Helen is asking if your car reflects your personality, and Glenn reminds us not to be smug.

Well, it used to be you could look up the word, "smug" and see pics of Volvo owners. But this pic I took a few days ago kinda dissipates the Volvo Smug Cloud, and also says something about the car's owner:

Tough times: Delivering your Pizza with a free side of Smug.

(For the record, I think Volvo owners should be allowed to live, I just don't want to be behind them at a red light.)

Grate Performances

You gotta wait for Beaker's entrance and his Grand Coda at the end.

Totally yoinked from Mad William Flint's "Hate Free" Church.

Mar 16, 2008

EVEN Episcopalians

You know, there a large numbers of members of the Episcopalian church who have enough sense of their Christian heritage, doctrine and history to walk out in droves when their pastor, bishop or Presiding Bishop decides to teach all sorts of political agendas as "gospel".

Even Episcopalians. Let that sink in.

If the most uptight, white, and Second Rite members of the most arguably white-bread, milquetoast, don't-make-waves denominations can draw the line and chalk up generations of church donations, building programs and property as lost forever-- and walk away from it when they feel it has gone astray,--- why can't Barack Obama walk away from something so obviously wrong? Will that day come for him, when he says, "my money and tithes can NOT support this sort of rhetoric?

Because, maybe last year would've been a good time.

Kinda late now. Just sayin'.

Mar 15, 2008

The 24 Hours of Iron Man



The Jolly Roger and his brother, Dangerous Dan teamed up for the 22nd Annual Florida's Iron Man contest. As you can see, it is a grueling 24 hours of five events: Bowling, Darts, Billiards, Golf and Horseshoes.





Training is intense for some, but for most it's a once-a-year chance to try and not be the Horse's Ass. It's the most perfect Slacker event I can think of.

Oh. You see, if you win, your prize is a bit of cash and your trophy is The Horse's Hindquarters. The object is to NOT win!




The Jolly Roger did his part for the bowling rounds.









He's killer on darts, but they lost anyway. Way to go!






This morning they played golf and Dangerous Dan did his part and the two of them, overall, made par. Overachievers. No golf pics. No girls allowed on the golf course during the game.





You can see how stressful it is to be so near the bar while trying to compete.





Oh. There's only ONE RULE for the whole 24 hours. When the game master sounds the whistle, you can't be more than 5 seconds from your drink. Even if you are playing horseshoes.







Today Pepper Dog and I went to catch up with the golfers after the game. They were still having dart and billiard competitions. Pepper just loved all the attention.


In fact, she's been quite full of herself ever since!


The Jolly Roger is snoring away on the couch, now. He and Dangerous Dan never came close to winning, so I know they had a great time.

If you're ever in Florida the week after Bike Week, test your Slacker Mettle and see if you have what it takes to be non-competitive in five sports in 24 hours.


Mar 14, 2008

Is This What, "God Damn America" Looks Like?

(picture courtesy of the anonymous internet. Can't find an attribution.)


After everything you've heard and read about Jeremiah Wright, Obama's pastor and mentor of 20 years, does anyone still believe that picture captures a moment of mindless inattention? Or is it candidly depicting an outright state of mind and heart?


Hey, he can be whoever he wants to be, but that choice is definitely a limiter on his qualifications for leading my country. It's kind of a quaint notion, but I'd like my President to at least, you know, love my country and pledge a troth of allegiance.


Friday Laugh Therapy Session

Just go. You need this. I mean it.

You heard me. Now git!


Mar 13, 2008

Hey Hollywood! Now that Castro is difunto, the Cuban people just might get the chance to see how much you loved him.


But don't wait for their thanks.

Cuba is graciously allowing its citizens to buy DVDs and bigger televisions, not to mention computers and microwaves. I know, I know it's a shock, to all you trendy Che-humpers out on the Left Coast and in Kos-land, but most Cuban citizens had no idea of your solidarity with them. I find that terribly ironic!

Ya'll thought that the Cubanos couldn't have nice things because we wouldn't let them. Well, our evil embargo never stopped the rest of the world from trading with Cuba. The Cubans did without many things because Papa Fidel didn't want them to have them until he could provide enough electricity for them. It's 2008, Hollywood, and your adoring fans in Cuba can finally appreciate your courageous politics:

HAVANA (Reuters) - Communist Cuba has authorized the sale of computers, DVD and video players and other electrical appliances in the first sign President Raul Castro is moving to lift some restrictions on daily life."

Based on the improved availability of electricity the government at the highest level has approved the sale of some equipment which was prohibited," said an internal government memo seen by Reuters.

It listed computers, video and DVD players, 19-inch and 24-inch television sets, electric pressure cookers and rice cookers, electric bicycles, car alarms and microwaves that can now be freely bought by Cubans.

[emphasis mine]

Never let it be said that Fidel engaged in gross, Capitalistic nation-building... not even in his own nation. You gotta marvel at that kind of purity, that resistance to growth and change, in the face of the pressure of Western Civilization and Culture. The Amish would be proud.

In other news about nations not quite ready for prime-time Democracy:

Henry Kissinger has it exactly right, although that small article in no way reflects the whole of his thoughts on nation-building. But he's dead-on. And it's why our efforts in Iraq are important now, but will be more important 20 years from now. But like Castro, the Liberal Left and its media counterpart in the U.S. does not have the patience for growing things. Growing things is not exciting, usually. It's mostly boring, expensive, and calls for sacrifice more often than not. It's not for the faint of heart. An excerpt:
U.S. policy has been to urge President Pervez Musharraf into forming a coalition government with one or more civilian parties, which would then pursue the anti-fundamentalist war in a more coherent and determined manner. That outcome was what the election was supposed to produce.

The goal was laudable. But the results of the election (as in Gaza) show that theoretical preconceptions do not necessarily provide practical remedies, especially in the short run.

In the absence of a civil society, the losers in a political contest have few motives to subordinate their convictions to the general good, since the definition of the "general good" is precisely what is at issue. In such circumstances, crises are more often sharpened than solved by elections.
....

Though elections were held periodically, they usually reflected regional populist loyalties. Civilian and military government alternated with each other. No elected government has ever served out its term.
...
In such an environment, the relation between Pakistan's three feudal-type organizations - the military and the major political parties - has more of the character of those among Italian city states during the Renaissance described by Machiavelli than of the party politics of traditional democracies.
...
The difference between feudal leaders who wear uniforms and those in civilian clothes is in their constituencies, not in their commitment to a pluralistic process as we understand it.

At this point, any attempt to manipulate the political process that we have urged is likely to backfire. A wise policy must recognize that the internal structure of Pakistani politics is essentially out of the control of American political decision-making. Construction of a centrist coalition is a commendable goal, but the conditions for it can only be nurtured by Pakistani political forces and, in the absence of a center, require patience over a period of time.

[empahsis mine]

If we're going to have some sort of relationship with the Middle East or Cuba that can be built on a common human goal of freedom, it's going to take years of investment to allow ancient paradigms to fade and for people to embrace something better at the loss of something familiar.

Letting folks buy computers is a start.

Dogfights

Her doggie dress-up pics are teh funniest, but I know that some days she feels the eensiest bit guilty for pics like this, or this:



Well, I have no idea who deserves the blame for this picture below, but I think it absolves Rachel of any lingering guilts she may be harboring deep in her psyche:


What the hell are people thinking? Anybody can build a costume and prey upon some poor pooch's sense of self.

However, Rachel's pics have that artistic and surreal quality that speak to the brilliance of her creative powers, her understanding of her subject, and her fearless ability to set up the scene for her readers.

No wonder I don't watch television anymore.

Sign Me Up!

Thursday Slacking for the jobless. Yeah, I got nuthin'.


This generator is fun, too: You know she deserves it!


Also, as long as we're just goofing off here, tell me why the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the States of New Jersey, Kansas, and Massachusetts, and NASA, Northrup Grummond, and way too many .edu referrals keep showing up on this site during working hours? Get to work, ya slackers!

Mar 12, 2008

B.C. Writer

Carve your own postcards:

How much of a cultural and linguistic twist would it be to say that the, "Luddites are making a comeback?"

I dunno. I think I'm starting a whole new blog category of anachronistic ephemera. The sad thing is, most people under 35 think a postcard is something you send to an anonymous website, baring your soul of its deepest secret. (Only funny if you're a cat, however.)


Mar 11, 2008

The oldest email you've been hanging onto.

A'ight, ya old sentimental geeks over *ahem* a certain age. Time to drag out your email albums and share the distant past with the youngsters. Yes it will be about as strange and alien as a picture of you with your Jew-fro and sideburns.

Scaryduck has started trouble in the blogosphere by asking for: the oldest email in your mailbox.

Time, then, for an antique email amnesty. What's the oldest email in your possession, and what's your excuse, PLANET MURDERER.
I note that while many there are bragging, few are atoning or offering excuses. Here's the oldest one I've had, sent to me from the Jolly Roger in January 2000 via my shiny new Yahoo address:

Sent: Monday, January 31, 2000 9:48 AM

Subject: FW: Program Wife 1.0

Dear Technical Support Team,


Last year I upgraded from Girlfriend 7.0 to Wife 1.0 and noticed that the new program began unexpected child processing that took up a lot of space and valuable resources. No mention of this phenomenon was included in the product brochure. In addition, Wife 1.0 installs itself into all other programs and launches during system initialization, where it monitors all other system activity. Applications such as Poker night 2.3, Drunken Boys Night 2.5 and Saturday Football 5.0 no longer run, crashing the system whenever selected. I cannot seem to keep Wife 1.0 in the background while running my other favorite applications. I am thinking about going back to Girlfriend 7.0, but the un-install does not work on this program.

Can you help me, please!!!

Thanks, Joe

Dear Joe:

This is a very common problem men complain about but is mostly due to a primary misconception. Many men upgrade from Girlfriend 7.0 to Wife 1.0 with the idea that Wife 1.0 is merely a UTILITIES & ENTERTAINMENT program.

Wife 1.0 is an OPERATING SYSTEM and designed by its creator to runeverything. It is unlikely you would be able to purge Wife 1.0 and still convert back to Girlfriend 7.0. Hidden operating files within your system would cause Girlfriend 7.0 to emulate Wife 1.0 so nothing is gained. It is impossible to un-install, delete, or purge the program files from the system once installed. You cannot go back to Girlfriend 7.0 because Wife 1.0 is not designed to do this.

Some have tried to install Girlfriend 8.0 or Wife 2.0 but end up with more problems than the original system. Look in your manual under "Warnings - Alimony/Child Support". I recommend you keep Wife 1.0 and just deal with the situation.

Having Wife 1.0 installed myself, I might also suggest you read the entire section regarding general partnership faults (GPFs). You must assume all responsibility for faults and problems that might occur, regardless of their cause. The best course of action will be to enter the command

C:\APOLOGIZE.

In any case avoid excessive use of the Esc key because ultimately you will have to give the APOLOGIZE command before the operating system will return to normal. The system will run smoothly as long as you take the blame for all the GPFs. Wife 1.0 is a great program, but very high maintenance. Consider buying additional software to improve the performance of Wife 1.0. I recommend Flowers 2.1 and Chocolates 5.0.

Do not, under any circumstances, install Secretary With Short Skirt 3.3. This is not a supported application for Wife 1.0 and is likely to cause irreversible damage to the operating system.

Best of luck.

TECHNICAL SUPPORT TEAM

Not too much has changed. Eight years later and still the best technical minds can only wish us luck. Vista, anyone?

Mar 10, 2008

B.C. Rider


Bike Week among the Luddites.

These pictures are the craft of a wonderful photographer whose name just happens to be Harley. Harley Palangchao. Go check him out for more beautiful pictures of the Philippines.

I would totally ride one of those bikes! And, they do have brakes on them, at least. I'm guessing that the mountainside daredevils must hitch a ride in the back of a truck to get back home. But it just looks like something I would've made as a kid, as I was always tinkering with my bicycle or my dad's electronics out in the garage. Let's see how those bad boys would do going down Pike's Peak! Totally cool.

h/t haha.nu

Rachel Carson's Legacy, Part 2

"Excuse me. I'm going to need this to run my car."

h/t to Mesablue

Just Hiss On It


Venomous Kate's blog is FIVE years old today. Shocking, isn't it? I remember, even when she was just a wee little slitherling, her bite was every bit as mortally dangerous as it is today.

So, slither, slink, and sidewind your way over there and give her a hiss to build a dream on.

Congrats, Kate!

Mar 9, 2008

So Shut Up, Already

I don't even know the gentleman, KeesKennis, but he doesn't seem like the needy type, y'know?

"When are ya going to link me?" he whines. What happened to hunter and prey, gun and target, huh?

Heh. I lured him into linking ME with a one-off post I did about blogs I've been reading, of which his has been one. It worked liked stink on a skunk! Right away (actually, weeks later) he puts me on his blogroll, link-whore that he is.

What the hell. I felt duly chastised, and got around to putting a permanent link on my blogroll today. Actually, quite a few. Did a little Spring Cleaning even though it's as cold as this winter has been this year. The Closet of my Rack o' Slacks has been rearranged and re-stocked. If you don't see your blog name there, it's because my warped sense of humor is served by disguise. It makes for more outclicks, actually. Nothing like a Pooper-Scooper or Garden Ho to encourage a little clicky-click action. And the Naked and Cleavage links get outclicked more than most, you pervs.

If you don't see your name there, but would like to, well... you know the drill.


Mar 7, 2008

It's Not Disagreement. It's Dysfunction.

Update: Welcome, Charming peeps and Nice Doggies! Wipe your feet, dammit! And see the post before this one, for background.


****

My dearest detractor, one 'mouse, writes me in the comments and I excerpt here:


At the end of the day, I know you and I agree about wanting a country which is internationally respected, whose currency doesn't suck, which has great education and good opportunity for anyone willing to work their ass off, pay their taxes and follow the rules, where the forces of greed are tempered by enough oversight that half of Florida doesn't end up in foreclosure and so forth.

What we (you and I) need is to figure out how to get the rest of this nightmare of near-50:50 devisiveness off its ass and doing something about the things that matter locally and globally.

Either that or let's have a margarita and listen to the band while the ship goes down. I'm mixing -- frozen or rocks?


I love the dear 'mouse, I really do, but I gotta post my reply out here, where we can all take a look and discuss it. Herewith, my scattered reply:

I could care less if my country is respected around the world, 'mouse. That's where we just need to have a margarita. Um... Frozen!

I don't care about what others think. Even other countries. You can't live like that on a personal level, and you can't live like that on an international level. It's a paralyzing mindset, as any psychologist will attest. You have to make your best effort based on solid principles and go with it. If you doubt yourself and what you're made of, there are plenty of jackals waiting to devour your remaining sense of Self.

No nation on earth does as much, is more giving, less greedy, less corrupt and full of such goodwill. If other countries can't see that, how are we to blame?

I've been to three other countries besides my own. I've lived in one for an extended period of time. While I loved its people, I could see its core was full of fear, envy, greed and corruption. Not borne of oppression from without, but from lack of a moral compass within.

I will never willingly consent to my taxes subsidizing laziness, corruption, another family's responsibilities, or another's chosen lifestyle, even if that lifestyle foolishly didn't count the cost of its mortgage. But my "public servants" will certainly see to it that I do so anyway.

Saying that, I propose that if we insist on prosecuting drug pushers, we also prosecute loan pushers when they offer easy money to unqualified applicants. Oh wait. The liberals insisted we do so. Shall we vilify those who did their bidding, just because they expected to make their money back? Or see if maybe Rezko can front a bit of mortgage money for the rest of us?

Obama isn't going to make our currency suck any less. The Euro is overvalued and Bush keeps printing money, so yeah, I can agree with you that we need a stable fiscal policy. Yea! Pour another round, darlin'!

****
Hey, how come the NEA has no problem with how it's perceived by other people? How come lawyers don't fret about how they are perceived by other people? Why aren't our Congressmen concerned with how little we respect them? Why doesn't the MSM fall over in a dead faint because of how they are viewed?

I know the answer to this one! It's because they are IN and their detractors are OUT. They are proud of their accomplishments and their unity, no matter how many kids can't read, widows' pensions are devoured, imminent domains are confiscated or ficticious stories are produced and lives are ruined. But they won't extend that grace to their own country. It's a dysfunctional mindset on a deeply and seemingly irretrievable level.

Great education comes from healthy competition. Truly awful tenured professors and teachers at public schools can't get fired. More money will not fix that, and Obama is too much of a fucking Chicago politician --bought and paid for-- to buck the NEA or any other inbred group of union slackers.

The best education? Pain.

If life doesn't hurt when we do stupid things, we don't learn. You posted rules and consequences for your daughter, based on that marvelous and healthy compassion for her well-being. It's not punishment when people do stupid things and suffer for it. It's called "learning one's lessons." It's nice if kids will listen and avoid "lessons", but prepare your heart to be broken, 'mouse. You just can't control her life every minute, or spare her from her choices. Not without creating a lesser being... in your eyes and her own.

My compassion is my own to mete out or withhold. It is not the job of my government to be God, to be All, to be Mother or Father. It just needs to be cohesive enough to call together an army for defense, judges for interpretation, and a representative body that listens to its constituency.

The divide resides in a deep, deep philosophical and moral void, that didn't use to exist between Left and Right, back when it was a matter a style and not substance.

Today's adults have grown up in a world that expects the government to be more than any government should ever aspire to: a supplemental oversight of the individual and their daily choices of normalcy.

We no longer agree on the substance, so the style isn't even arguable any more.

And greed? The truly greedy are the ones who are first envious of someone with more. That is the one really ugly thing about the liberal Left: Class warfare. I'm the last of eight kids, and my mom understood human nature amongst contending peoples. "What do you care what your brother has in his stomach? Do you have enough? Yes, so shut up!" And she was a lifelong Democrat! But that was back when it was about style, not substance. An honorable difference.

Now, those who do not work for the government outright, are bound to support those who do. When government grows beyond its rightful place, the silent, plodding cows of capitalism bear the burden.

I'm tired of it. Tired way down deep. It's the new slave class, the new Company Store that makes me pay for the fantasies and guilt trips of the privileged few who score a sweet government job. And will continue to vote largesse unto themselves as long as they can get away with it. And nobody on the Left will ever use the word, "greedy" for such. I read today where Wellstone didn't provide Workers' Comp for his campaign staff that died with him in the plane crash, so the taxpayer, the little guy, gets to ante up one more time. He was another one, another Hope and Change hypocrite.

Fuck 'em all. Fuck FDR and LBJ and O-ba-ma.

CHANGE? Hardly. Just new shiny faces to shine the light into to keep 'em from noticing the grimy truth of it all. What's new about more government programs that I get to pay for? Fuck Obama. And fuck Michelle O., Hillary, John McCain and George W. Bush for playing along with it. Everyone of them is pandering to the class warfare, the free ride, the easy ticket, the expanded and distant responsible Parent Government Educator Moralizer GOD. At my expense.

The cardinal rule of the jungle is: don't mess with a man's woman, or with his money. If this all sounds personal, it's because the Government is intensely personal when it dips into my wallet. It touches the very heart of my survival and then it chides me for wanting some accountability for my sacrificial contribution.

I'd rather have Bill Clinton back. At least he left the economy alone. The only smart thing he ever did.

Yeah, I HOPE to keep most of the money I've worked for. I'd rather have compassion on my neighbor that I know, that I can call to account, rather than toss it to a committee of far-flung do-gooders who wring their hands at the thought of inconvenience and hardship and call it, "suffering.'

Precious few folks alive in the U.S. are "suffering" from anything we as a country have done. For true suffering, just have your little business get audited by the IRS or sued.

Yes, another 'rita, please! On the rocks -- where we're headed.

Blue on Blue Violence - The Undead Post with Too Many Updates.

Yeah, I'm all broke up about it. Help me out here. Is it a "Black Thing and I Wouldn't Understand It"? Is it a Liberal thing? A Beta Male thing?

Obama's surrounded himself with mean, mouthy women who have no respect for the country he's wanting to preside over, or his campaign, and who are so giddy with the power curve that they think it's all about them: (link fixt.)

Never underestimate the influence of a wife who bitch-slaps her husband in public. Early in Obama's campaign, Michelle Obama could not restrain herself from belittling the senator. "I have some difficulty reconciling the two images I have of Barack Obama. There's Barack Obama the phenomenon.... ...And then there's the Barack Obama that lives with me in my house, and that guy's a little less impressive," she told a fundraiser in February 2007.

"For some reason this guy still can't manage to put the butter up when he makes toast, secure the bread so that it doesn't get stale, and his five-year-old is still better at making the bed than he is." New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd reported at the time, "She added that the TV version of Barack Obama sounded really interesting and that she'd like to meet him sometime." Her handlers have convinced her to be more tactful since then.


If the women around him have no respect for him, why should I?


Oh, and thanks to Rachel for her tireless efforts to tell it like it is about the Obamas.

Update: Ooooh! More Spengler goodness about M.O.!

And another thing, Hillary is no better in her efforts to "control" her man.

Can I just say this? I DON'T WANT ANOTHER "CO-PRESIDENCY!" EVER! I'm not happy with John McCain but I don't hear Cindy trying to shove her oar in for policy and influence. I don't want two Clintons and I don't want two Obamas or two McCains or the Doublemint Twins or Tweedles Dee and Dum, gay or straight couples, whatever.

Stand on your own two feet and let me know that at 3:00 a.m. YOU will be the one picking up the phone and saying, "Shut up! It's for
me."

No, I don't know if this post will ever end today. It's the Undead Post.

Mar 6, 2008

Hunk in the Trunk


This is James. Well, it's his legs. The rest of him is in the trunk of my car, replacing the brake light that went out just as I arrived at Becky's house in Washington, D.C. a few weeks ago. I had collected Becky at work, since she was without transport, having recently totaled her car in the cold snap a few days earlier. You can still see all the snow left over from that.

So, we pull up to her house, and a warning light comes on in the Jetta. We are concerned, and both have much to say about it.

"What does that mean?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Where's the car's manual?"
"What, it's not in the glovebox?" (It was, but I couldn't find it. It stays perched in a special secret bin at the top of the glove box. Now I know...)

When I took this picture, I hadn't been stopped more than 3 minutes, been introduced to James, one of the two other roommates sharing the nice home near Falls Church. Becky launches into our warning light dilemma.

We test the lights. It's a brake light, we all discover together.

"I think I can help," says James. And off he goes to the garage and brings back a light bulb for my Jetta's tail light, climbs in the trunk, and proceeds to be very handy. I look at him, all handy and helpful and adorable, I turn to Becky and say, "I have a man in the trunk of my car! I think I'll just close the trunk and take him home with me." We considered however, that maybe the Jolly Roger would object.

But we both agreed as to how convenient it would be to have a geological engineer /handyman on-call in the trunk of one's vehicle for just these sorts of predicaments.



Funny. Cuz it's true.


Pam has really done it, now.

She's kicked off a meme, as far as I'm concerned, and I just had to try my hand at it. Nothing fancy, and easy enough to render in MSPaint if you don't have Photoshop skills:

See how easy it is?


It would be fun to do a series for Democrats as well, since I'm all about equality:

Can't leave out the Indys:

Okay. I'm over it now.

****

What day is today? Thursday? Thursday has been scientifically determined to be the most productive day of the week. No, really.

I guess that hot tub isn't going to come and find me, so I'd better go find it.

Later, Slackers.

Mar 5, 2008

Not On a Bet

While the world was holding its breath yesterday, anxiously awaiting political outcomes, I was in Lakeland making reparations to the Seminole Indian tribe at their sacred lodge, The Hard Rock Casino. Not impressed, and I'm always lucky enough to always lose money. I hate losing money. But it was mildly entertaining and I can say beentheredonethat. Meh.

Then my S.I.L. and I beat feet back home, running with the tattered remnants of that big storm which did little else but leave a sprinkling mist all over the roads and confuse all the drivers from New Jersey that just won't go back home.

What'd I miss?

Mar 3, 2008

Surfer Dog

Mine weren't the only tootsies in the water on Saturday. Pepper loves nothing so well as swimming. The porpoises were just off the eponymous landmark and Pepper would have been swept out to sea if I hadn't kept her on the leash. She'd keep going back in, because, dang it, there were pelicans and gulls and dolphins to chase!

Now, back to your regularly scheduled Monday...

Mar 2, 2008

The Right Shade of Red


Amelia Earhart's airplane pictured here, this gorgeous Lockheed Vega, is just the right shade of red. It says more about her than all I've ever read in the history books. In fact, I had no idea at all that her plane was this color. Stunning red. It's just one of the relatively few pics I took while at the Smithsonian. Lots of pics were of engines and turbines, just because I love 'em. Here's a favorite:


For the Irrelephant, I took a picture of the Spirit of St. Louis, (got the Wright Bros plane, too!) which was cool. But equally cool was the spinner cap, signed by friends and crew on both sides of the Atlantic. What a daring mortal was Lindberg! I can't wrap my mind around the reality of it, and that's no slam against Jimmy Stewart's fine portrayal of the deed. It's just too awesome.

Update: NO! NOT a symbol of German Fascism! It's a propeller symbol. Don't make me 'splain it. Go find out for yourself. (Mr. BaggiePants is in pain, so he gets a pass on this.)

But c'mon! Would you cross 3,000 miles of ocean in that?



So many airplanes and space vehicles! And rockets that were essentially the equivalent of strapping a trashcan full of dynamite to your ass and lighting it off.

What do we have today that would be like buying a plane, painting it by-god RED, lowering the goggles over your coif and makeup and flying into history with your scarf streaming behind you?

The little Miata will have to do for now. It's also the right shade of red. History can wait, though.

Meanwhile, my tootsies enjoyed the First of March at the beach. I think dear Rob Smith would approve of some toe pr0n on a lovely weekend like this. I think he'd like the name of this shade of red also: "Please Don't Think I'm a Waitress."



Anthropology 101. You Will Be Assimilated. By Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Just to really piss off some self-important cultural anthropologists out there who'd love nothing more than to see the U.S. become subsumed to some perceived "better" culture, I thought I'd promote this incredible bit of homogenization for your Sunday morning.

Via The Corner, the Red Army Chorus accompanies the Leningrad Cowboys in what can only be described as the most surreal rendition of Sweet Home Alabama I've ever seen:



It's the pogrom-like sounds and chording of the men's voices at the end of Alabama that really brings it home, so to speak. So yeah, you gotta sit there, slack-jawed through the whole thing.

Don't miss their take on Tom Jones' "Delilah," either.

When they finally do Freebird, we can all decry John Lennon's pablum for the passive pussification it promotes.

Imagine that.

Mar 1, 2008

Drop Drudge



Just do it... it's good and good for ya.

Venemous Kate has supplied the graphics and Charm City has a grand link-up of participants.

This is not a meme. This is an important statement about self-governance among free peoples and the need to condemn the pernicious leaking of information. Not just by Drudge, but by any other member of the MSM, i.e., the New York Times.

Security leaks can be deadly, and aren't good for the tenuous state of Free Speech. Are you listening, Sulzbacher?

If you take your Free Speech rights seriously, you should also ostracize those who are selling it up the river by their irresponsible exercise of that precious Right.

Drop Drudge. And all others like him.

Edward Teach - Blackbeard!


As promised, an excerpt from the,
Handbook of 50 Pirates.

He was a real, ranting, raging pirate, who buried pots of treasure, and made many a luckless prisoner walk the fatal plank. Teach was a Bristol man, and learned his trade on board sundry privateers in the West Indies--an admirable school.

The distinction between "privateer" and "pirate" was only that of a few letters, and Mr. Blackbeard found it an easy step to make the change.


*****

So off he sails with his little fleet, and blockades the port of Charleston, capturing incoming and outgoing vessels at his pleasure. Having obtained about $8,000 from these prizes, he sailed away to North Carolina, and surrendered himself to the governor, taking advantage of the King's pardon which had recently been proclaimed.

Nevertheless he held tight to his ill-gotten wealth. Soon he was off again flying the black flag. But this time the bold Capt. Blackbeard did not fare so well; for the traders and planters, wearied beyond endurance with such an unmitigated pest, besought the Governor of Virginia for aid. Accordingly, Lieutenant Maynard was dispatched to Ocracoke Inlet to fight this pirate. A battle of the utmost desperation ensued. Blackbeard fought like a tiger. At length he fell, pierced by twenty-five wounds, and the surviving pirates were only reserved that they might be hanged.

(See previous post for more information about this book of out-of-print pirate portraits, or go buy one for yourself!)