So, Imagine You're a Saudi Sheik Watching This Interview with Sarah Palin

If you watch noting else about Governor Palin, this video of her interview with Maria Bartiromo is all you need to see.

It's enough that this amazing politician can go 12 minutes of policy wonking about energy without the first "uh...", but that she can also cover all the bases, hit the salient points and direct barbs at Biden and Obama while doing so. And she hammers home the point with the tireless energy of a patient athlete: We need to use our current resources while developing new ones. And we need to do it now.

I'm no conspiracy theorist about Big Oil, and Palin has already locked horns with domestic oil companies and has earned her spurs in that arena. Now she is becoming a very high-profile, likable, formidable opponent of the interests of the Oil Cartel in Middle East. The Sheiks have no lack of clients, what with China rapidly consuming new resources, and India becoming a first-world consumer, but it remains that the U.S. market is the favorite whipping boy of the Middle East. If we declare, as Palin does, an unmistakable goal of true independence, what will be the political shift throughout the world? It's one thing to be a governor with an agenda for one's state, quite another to be a thorn in the side of international political interests.

I'm thinking Joe Biden and Barack Obama are the least of her worries. Besides, just watch that video and smile to think of the upcoming Veepstakes debates wherein Saracuda makes Biden cry like a little girl. Heck, from the looks of it, Sarah's daughter, Piper, could make short work of Biden, too.

And now, with Gustav working to take out more oil rigs and refineries, the price of oil will spike again, and Palin is going to look smarter and smarter to the idiots who have been too stupid to take in all the facts, but know when their wallet is hurting.

And while we're talking oil rigs and refineries despoiling the environment, why in the heck are we worried about the deserted tundra of Alaska while we continue to rebuild cities and refineries and rigs in an area historically proven to be a menace to all foolish enough to establish life and business within its dangerous geographic location? We've wasted more money rebuilding a doomed city than we ever could hope to spend drilling for our own oil.

I met a woman a month ago, who was still milking Katrina money from the government. Happily relocated to my beautiful state, now driving a Cadillac, and wearing designer fashions. And demanding more money from me.

I can't see Palin putting up with the national scope of folly surrounding Big Oil, our dependence on foreign oil, the idiocy of refusing to produce our own resources, and the continued bad judgment of the Good Ol' Boys.

(Btw, Palin has more executive experience than Hillary... as long as we're comparing them, Guy!)

[Update for future reference: Tale of the Tape Comparison. Excellent!]

Okay, I'm rambling now, but I love her for nothing so much as her actually saying it out loud, "the good old boy" network. It has ceased to be a functional entity; not that it's ever been especially ethical, it's just stagnant and self-absorbed to the point of entropy. I hope.

So yeah, while we're worried about Obama's security because of a nutcase with a racist agenda, Sarah Palin has a whole world of folks who are watching her closely... and very likely not entirely in love with her.

I hope Dick Cheney lets her know where the "undisclosed location" is.

Squeeze Play

Ugh... tides are still running high from the last storm. This oughta be fun:

Nobody Has Suggested "Old Fart" Yet

Ted's about to be a grandfather. As a way of reminding folks of his newest/old website, I'd like to direct your attention to a very important poll that needs your attention.

It's not often that you're given the opportunity to become a part of someone's scrapbook appellations, achieving real meaning-- well into the unknown future of the Rocket Jones Family. But hey, that's why we love the Intartubes, right?

New Job - Day One

So far, so good. Nice and quiet and no drama. No damn Muzak, either.

Best of all, they have great wi-fi. 5x5, man! I'm blogging from my little Asus-900 while on lunch break.

Working with grownups! Yeah, I'm stoked about that.

Welcome, Surber-nites

My favorite beat-reporter has done it again.

This is the post that so inspired Don Surber's truly brilliant, "Woodstock" parody.

And the rest of my adorable readers should light up a fattie and pop over to Don's Den of Demented Democracy and groove to the scene he's painted there. There's a payoff line at the end that will make you smile. Go see.

Well maybe he is the new JFK
Or maybe the new Gandhi
He’s better than anyone else
Because he told me

He is stardust
He is golden
We are half a billion strong
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the White House.

Go. Read the whole thing.

Crap! I'm Employed.

Should be pleasant enough. Part time hours, self-directed work and no phones to answer. Just task-driven database work and graphic design with a bit of website maintenance. Marketing support for one person who stays out of the office all day. Sweet!

I told her I have no problem working for a woman, but that her red hair (frickin' glorious, long and curly-- I hate her already!) could be a deal breaker. She laughed. Whew.

She wanted me to understand how straightforward and no-nonsense she was. I replied, "Oh good. So I don't have to apologize for being the same way," as I met her gaze. Instant understanding; like two gunslingers meeting for the first time.

Now, I know that none very few of my adorable readers are hoping that this turns into some sort of perverted office fantasy. Not that kind of blog post, kids.

But really, in the work-a-day world there is nothing better than a good workplace collaboration. I hope I help her and her husband continue to make a lot of money. Real Estate is still a lucrative business, or so I hear.

I just want to be left alone to work in peace. It's a big step down from the breakneck pace and visibility of prior jobs. (Tourism, Art Gallery, Social Services... all in the past year. I'm starting to hate this pirate town's work situation. That will be another post.)

My quest for obscurity-- of which this blog is a testament-- continues apace.

There's a Reason Time Moves Forward

Because, peeps, we just can't ever go back to this: (NOTE! Please watch at least 60 secs of the clip, if you're gonna click on it, or you just won't ever forgive yourself.):

Don't get me wrong, I love Joe Cocker, but that whole scene was just painful to watch. This is your music on drugs...

h/t Beancounters

Spa Treatment

My favorite little beach is not for the faint of heart or tender of foot:

The outer husks of millions of little sea-beasties make up the "sand" at this beach. It's great for an exfoliation treatment. Problem is, you need tough feet to survive the process. The visitors all sport some sort of footwear, only after sampling the brisk effects of our sand. There is a special ritual dance they perform that involves wild knee-bends and foot-lifts; but we locals enjoy the invigorating feel of thousands of sharp little shells under each square inch of tread.

The beach lost some sand, about 2 feet a the point of the inlet, but the city lost an expensive section of their municipal dock. Pepper had to threaten nearby birds:

Not enough to just threaten them, she had to run in the water after them.

Clouds and rain were piling up to the west of us so we came back home, happy to have been outside if only for an hour or so. More rain is on the way.

Careful With That---

Just... what the...? Any interpreters out there that speak um... sign language?


Yoinked from haha.

.

Show It Your Gun, Why Don't You?

While Dogette and her hub are only speaking in movie-lines now, I've been wracking my brain for a certain line from Key Largo to describe conditions here. Which, by the way, if it were possible, have deteriorated since yesterday.

The wind blows so hard
the ocean gets up on its hind legs. . .

. . .and walks right across the land.

Which is a line that simply kicks ass, all by itself. But this is the one I was hunting for:

You don't like it, do you?
The storm?

Show it your gun, why don't you?

If it doesn't stop, shoot it.

It's starting to sound like a perfectly sane idea.

Fun With Fay

It's not like the view is changing here. The winds are still pounding from the East, albeit with just slightly more northern tack. So, I went out in the car, fought the traffic of other looky-lou's just to entertain myself. And you!

Note the girls sitting on the seawall [hmmm... I wonder if they got swept away...] :

But for real storm-blogging entertainment, Dogette is reporting as only she can.

Of course, Her Royal Dogliness is not being much help.

Not Going Away - Ocean swells in my backyard!

If Fay has 60 mph winds, I'm guessing that we're getting every mph of 'em. The marshy little creek is now sporting 2-foot ocean swells and we have about 6 inches of clearance before the Atlantic Ocean claims our AC unit. Fortunately, I think we've weathered the worst of the tide... for now.

The Big City up north and Daytona to the south are hogging all the news, but I'm pretty sure my little pirate town is getting the full brunt of a reckonin'. Actually, it's getting worse as I type.

The condo is an Aeolian Harp of noise, and has been for 24+ hours. The upstairs windows sound like the Russian Red Army chorus singing a low pogrom of horror. The front door and staircase window are playing the high notes. The entire complex has so many corners and hallways that all 325 units are moaning in concert with the wind. It's the stuff of a good Bogey flick.

Bird rescue at the pool, as well! A young Skimmer found hanging on for life to some flotsam in the pool was wrapped up in a towel and taken in by a nice Russian lady. Hope the little guy pulls through.

Update: First casualty of stupidity. The media pukes are saying she is a victim of the storm, but of course as sad as it is, it was certainly avoidable.

Surf's Up!

This picture was taken about 30 minutes before the video that follows:

And here comes high tide:

Usually, it's just a nice, grassy marsh connected to the Intracoastal. Believe It or Not, it's not high tide yet. My newer neighbors are in a state of concern over the water level rising on the building. We'll need another 15 inches before I go down to the garage and start raising stuff off the floor. Yee haw!

Update from the pool:

That's not supposed to be an ocean out there. Supposed to be reedy grass and hammocks of land to complement the sling-hammocks on the pool grounds.

Now It's Scary

Alright, we're having some serious wind and rain here. The tide is rolling in at an amazing rate. I'm trying to capture video of it, so there'll be more updates. Those "wind gusts up to..." afterthoughts? Don't dismiss those.

Oh yeah, the J.R. had to drive into the Big City north of here, in his Miata, across a huge bridge over a 3-mile stretch of water. Because, y'know, someone might want to buy a car today. [Update: apparently, yes.]You never know. So, it's me and the Pepper Dog, who is useless, sitting with her nose planted on the wall.

Hope Jean is hangin' in there. I hope my windows hold.

It's Been a While

It's been a while since I've bossed around my 12 loyal readers, but this isn't about me.

This is about Julie and her beautiful dog, Lyra. Lyra was recently diagnosed with cancer in her knee and just yesterday the poor pooch underwent an amputation. It's hard stuff, watching your dear pet have to suffer. If you've ever experienced something similar with your fluffy sidekick, go by and leave a few words of kindness and support.

Julie's a nice person, not at all like me, and a very accomplished artist with an amazing mind and heart, and beautiful family. So ya'll be sure to behave yourselves should you drop by her place during more blithe and happier circumstances.

Still, go by and give her a cyber-hug and leave a snuffly kiss for Lyra, who is nicely sedated and expected to recover well.

Wherein I Make a Little Girl Cry

Honestly, I AM a disturbed individual.

There is a job listed with a "career recruiter" company, I should know better, but the job looks interesting, pays well, and is a reasonable commute to the big city up north. In fact, although it is in another city, it is closer to my little pirate town than it would be for other folks who are actual denizens of that city. Not a hard concept, really, for anyone who has ever looked at a map.

I send my resume as an attachment. Of course, my little laptop has Works, but not Word, so I dutifully save my resume as a Word doc and send it along. I get a reply from Kirsten(!) saying she can't open the attachment. *sigh* Thanks, Bill Gates. I'm pretty sure she can open it if she knew how to right-click and "open as." I could be wrong on that, but ennywayz, I resend as a copy/paste unformatted.

I get a phone call. "Hi, yes, I was just going to try to send you a third attempt," I say. She begins, "ah, yeah, well, I see you live in Pirate Town?" [You know, with that annoying affectation that everyone under 30 years old has, as though everything is a question, voice inflecting upward on the last syllables.] "Because this job is in Big City? and I was ..."

I quickly surmise that I no longer wish to speak to this child. Her tone is one of impatience as though she were talking to her mother. And I had just sent her my resume not 20 seconds earlier, which tells me she has seen nothing more than my address and has immediately picked up the phone to school me on geography and reading for comprehension.

"Thank you, I appreciate it, but I am no longer interested. Thanks." and I hang up. Yes, I was abrupt in terminating the conversation, and yes, I absolutely closed the door for further discussion. I AM MEAN!! But why waste my time or hers?

I actually get a follow-up email from Kirsten: "Thanks for hanging up on me. I appreciate it. I was just letting you know where most of our positions are. Have a wonderful day!!!!!! :) "

Yeah. Exclamation points galore and a smiley face.

Oh, this girl cares way too much to let it go, or even be professional. And she is a so-called "executive placement recruiter."

I reply, "I did not hang up on you. I interrupted you, thanked you, and ended our conversation abruptly, without need of a reply. I don't remember inviting a response from you, then or now.

I will consider any further response from your office to be unwelcome harassment."

Good goshawmighty, I wouldn't hire me.

Letttin Go Is Never Easy...

Cost of Kiteboard and Kite: $599
Cost of critical injuries and months-long rehab:$150,000.
Advantage: Gene Pool

Yeah, he's in the hospital in critical condition after slamming into a building. Apparently, storm-kiting is Xtreme sport. But storm-kiting in a metro area?

Let's hope he doesn't become Fay's first stateside victim.

"Disturbed" Weather

I don't know why, but that term always gives me pause... "disturbed weather"-- as though when it was a small child it pulled the wings off of flies. Or tied little noose-threads around lizard's necks and attached the other end to the lone branch on which the hapless creature was then placed.

Don't ask.

Domestic Tranquility

We bought this sweet little Detective Spec Colt .38 Special back when Hurricane Whoever was threatening to sweep us away:

This next one, however, was an inheritance, locked away in a box without a key. We've had it at least 4 years without ever knowing what was in the box, just that it was some sort of gun. So I finally remembered it yesterday, and took it to the locksmith and paid him $5 to open the fireproof safe. Took him a while, but there, still in its purchase case was this bit of fluff:

Thus, the Jolly Roger and I have now achieved detente. His n' Hers heaters. Heh.

The Ruger .357 fits nicely in my hand, and I can't wait to go try it out at the range. Meanwhile, even though the marsh is at my doorstep, it grants a certain peace of mind to know that there will be no pirates looting on my property if we get a chance to host a hurricane here. Just sayin'.

Zombie Condiment

Just in time for your next Halloween party, kids! Nothing like the other-worldly heebie-jeebies of musical mud!

I guessed its ingredients, but maybe Holder could give us the scientific explanation for its curious behavior. It's not like she's busy or anything:

Now, just imagine it with red food coloring and fake rubber fingers in it! I know you can! Man, I can't wait to scare my own grandkids with this some day! heh.


Totally yoinked from haha.

Blogtoberfest Essentials: 2

A Beerdolier:



Do the folks at Uncrate not know how beer accoutrement models are supposed to look? Why the long sleeved shirts? Where's the bare-chested Pool Boy or the Beer Bunny? Not everyone's from Minnesota, don't ya know?

Pack, not Herd, etc.

Self Defense Student Fights Off Attacker.

Right after class. In the parking lot. Of the Church.

Observations:

• 55 isn't old, but it is proof that you should never start to think you can't defend yourself.
• If you're going to lurk around a church parking lot, never assume that the saints are there to play bingo or pray for your punk-ass soul. They might just be learning how to convince you of a change of heart, starting from the outside.
• Check your church calendar more often. They may be having a gun club, too!

The Agony of August - 2

Why yes, I am feeling better, thanks for asking. I've been sick for a month, left a job because of it (I'd only been there four months, long enough to remind myself why I left the non-profit scene before), and have only now in the last 5 days felt like a human being again.

I smiled at a some stranger, I refrained from ramming a tourist with my car (didn't keep me from cursing them mildly, however), I only flipped off one tourist that was tailgating my little Miata in their obscenely large, visible-from-outer-space SUV.

Energy crisis? Can't tell it in Florida. I putter around at a sedate 78mph and let the huge motor homes towing Toyota Tundras with golf carts in the bed and a grill in the golf cart just flow around me. I wish I'd gotten a pic of that, but he was flying by me doing at least 90 mph and 5mpg.

They're headed back to New Jersey, thank Gott. I'm sorry, but I am so sick of NJ-ites coming here and ruining the place with rudeness. (It rubs off on the locals, see 2nd paragraph.) And bad fashion sense. And cluelessness. (It's a marsh, it's supposed to smell salty and fishy. It's Artesian water, it's supposed to smell like rotten eggs. It's good for you.) And obnoxiously loud voices in restaurants. This is the South, dammit! Be civilized, restrained, and polite. Like Jimbo. He knows how, and I'm sure Suzette would never embarrass herself in that way. So who are these low-lifes with the Jersey attitude and accent? Yo, dawgs, save all the crap for your neighbors back home, up North. Hey Jersey: It's Florida. It's supposed to be hot. We like breathing our air through a straw. Grow some gills, wouldja?

I can't understand it. I'd rather put up with the French.

While I'm feeling nice, allow me to shout out to Ted on the occasion of his 40th Birthday. Have a wonderful day, Ted. No need to rant today, I've gotcha covered! Glad you were born! Too bad it's in August.

No, August is the month to stay home, hunker down with a glass of lemonade by the pool and wait for school to start. It's just not safe out there.

Speaking of pools, allow me to digress further into the ennui of The Slack. Our pool here at the condos just opened for the season two weeks ago. The pool actually sits down into the marshy marsh, so it needs to be maintained carefully, and resurfaced every few years... something that should only take a week to do. The contractor hired in early February played it along for weeks and months, finished just 6 weeks ago, only to have the pool closed again as salt water intruded once more. Contractor gone.

You gotta love a pirate town. The New Jerseyites on the Condo Board were flabbergasted and amazed that a contractor might not be licensed, or capable, or a keeper of his word. Oh, how they whinged about it and were amazed when someone else (besides me!) told them what I have learned since living here: everything will have to be done twice, if you hire a local. Should we sue the other guy? C'mon! He has nothing, and has likely moved his pirate ass to some other apartment project around here. Or under some bridge. Or is skulking out on Fish Island.

The Pool is lovely now. Except.

Except for the fact that we no longer have kiddie pools anywhere anymore. How much nicer it was to let the diaper set and toddlers swim in a fetid swamp of baby water and Gerber-poo. Why have they disappeared? Now kids are all allowed to contaminate the main pool. Sweet young moms saying things out loud like, "are you sure you don't have to go potty? You can't potty in the pool!"

Y'know, when you've been saying that for an hour, it's long past time to take your apple-juice-swilling spawn to the bathroom. And no, that extra-cling huggie diaper is not making me feel any better about all this. It's not the beach, lady. It's a pool, with a limited number of gallons of water and chlorine. Buy a blow-up pool and bring it along with you and let the child scamper in his own pee-soaked universe. But you're not kidding me or anyone else. Unless that child has been heat-fused in some sort of Seal-a-Meal diaper, I don't want to see your darling in my pool.

And now, if every smoker could just learn to use a frickin' ash tray. "It's biodegradable!" is the latest defense for turning the lawns and beaches into a personal ash tray. Well, my dog's poo is biodegradable too. But if I let her ceremoniously unload on your doorstep day and night, awaiting the next 5 rainy days to help melt it into the grass, I think you'd be pretty upset with me, too. Will some smoker who does toss their butts without a thought (none of my readers would, I know) please get back to me and tell me how long it takes a butt to biodegrade? Cuz I'm still waiting for the last, oh, 5,000 of them to disappear.

It's a mindset I simply do.not.get.

The Volvo-driving Obama-voting liberal bumper sticker set and Save the Planet hippies from the local Lib-Arts college all roll down their windows and toss the butts out. Haven't seen one of them roll up the window after a smoke without having first heaved the butt out into the general populace. Nice. Oh, those Florida wildfires along I-95? Nice.

A'ight. Halfway through August. I think I'll make it.

Endless Summer...

Sorry for the crappy cell-phone quality. Just a couple of pics of Pepper's favorite beach this morning:

The Magic Beach Motel is still standing, or at least, it's been painted again, which is likely all that's holding it together. Pepper ignores the camera, while she concentrates on being an excellent driver:

If you live a really good life, in the next one, you get to be a happy dog, chasing birds, swimming, puking and pooping all over the beach. It's probably an acquired taste, but it seems to make her pretty happy. God help you if you don't have enough humanity in you to just make sure that your critters are happy.

"The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast," as the Good Book says.

Sign:Countersign

Obama's Love Children want to Unite in Peace and Harmony. They're still trying to bring back the 60s.

This unrepentant stupidity is everywhere today, except perhaps in Old Russia where Georgia is busy shooting down Russian fighter jets.

Is this really inspiring lots of Hopey-Changey feelings right at such a moment?


It's a throwback, as many are saying, to a Star Trek outer-space Hippie episode.

I can't photoshop that marvelous pic of the McCain snarl, and put a counter-signal on it. So here's the next best thing I could find.

I'll see your 1960s Hippie Love in and raise you a 1960s rebellious, beer-swilling, womanizing, maverick:

Sorry, it's not a racist thing. It's a testosterone-o-meter. It's still one of the best bird-flipping pics evah. It's how I feel today, tomorrow, and forever about politicians, but especially about milquetoast-panty-waist-nancy-boys that get faint at the thought of a fist-fight, much less defending an ideal on the world stage.

C'mon, that stupid O symbol is just gonna get your ass handed to you.

Obama's not ready for much of anything but a manicure.

Blogtoberfest Essentials

Heh. From the comments: Brewicide Belt. -Robin

(From Uncrate, where else?)

KeesKennis: Idiot Wannabe

I took the Keesie Challenge of getting a perfect score on the Idiot Test.

The way to get 100%, at least the way I found, was to think like my boss at work:

I am 100% Idiot.

I am such a friggin' idiot. The good news is I don't care if I annoy people because I am too stupid to realize it. I count with my fingers and live in ignorant bliss. Weeeeeee!

Take the
Idiot Test
@ FualiDotCom

Nailed it on the first try!
But, just to prove the point:

I am 0% Idiot.

I am not annoying at all. In fact most people come to me for advice. Of course they annoy the hell out of me. But what can I do? I am smarter than most people.

Take the
Idiot Test
@ FualiDotCom

That all ya got, Keesie?

5 Seconds of Birdbrained Fun

Courtesy of Moveon.org:

Discuss.

Obligatory Blogiversary Post

I have posted no great insights, no great posts. It's just been me, or someone pretending to me, I guess. I've tried very hard to stick to my original cold fears of not letting this blog become an angst-filled teenager of self-absorption. Well, I've tried...

I've really enjoyed this, so far. I've only thought about stopping it about every other day. 41,000 hits and over 450 posts. I don't deserve an award, but I do want to take an opportunity to just acknowledge the co-perpetrators of this mess:

Rob Smith, God rest his soul, who was just who he was. Irascible doesn't even come close. Still, my toenails are sporting a brazen red color, Rob!
Elisson, who kicked off my further association with the Blown-Eyed Blodgers. P.S. I used your website as a reference page for my ChaCha gig. Some question about poop...
Velociman, who unwittingly helped me name this dubious effort.
To Erica, a special thanks just because her gift of encouragement is a thing to marvel at and obey. Plus, she took a hard knock from me and handed it right back. I still think I could take her in a jello-wrasslin' match, however.
Glenn Reynolds, doing his part by encouraging lots of new blogger with an Instalanche. If you encourage us, we start thinking we're good, Glenn.

Speaking of Jell-O, the gellin' in Helen completed the indoctrination, replete with sheep, shocks, and slurred speech by the usual suspects. Which reminds me to thank Jimbo for the introduction to all things Three Olives, (my SIL thanks you, too, Jimbo!), Georgia, Holder, Michelle, Denny, Kelly, Eric (Mr. Button-Down), Leslie and others I can't remember because of the Chatham Artillery Punch. Oh! Guy and SweetThing, of course!

Since then I've enjoyed the blogs of so many new and funny folks and some of the most brilliant women Bou, Teresa, Suzette and Dogette, Kim the Frothmistress, and Pam. Heck, may as well just post my blogroll here: creative folks like Jean, Robin, Julie, Stacy, and the twisted genius of Bent Objects and the mighty Hammer.

And on and on. Just look in the Rack o' Slacks and you'll know why I've enjoyed the last 366 days here on the Intartubes.

Now to get busy with the guitar practice. Need to get into musical shape for the Blogtoberfest!

Max Hardberger's Cool New Website

Just in time for my Bloggiversary--which is Aug 4th, I've verified--everybody gets a gift!

My favorite pirate has a one-stop website that is chock-full of pictures, video clips, audio clips, facts, feedback and best of all: links to purchase his books, and information about his soon-to-be published memoirs.

You might even see a quote from my blog in there, a link or two. Ye-gods he's brave...

I'd post a pic from there, but he is a lawyer, after all. Bother, bother.

Lots of pictures there. Did I already say that? Go there. Kick the tires and take it for a test drive. Make 'em feel the power of a Slack-a-lanche. Heh.

It really is an adventurous place to spend a Sunday afternoon , if you're a Good Pirate.

Nevermind.

Sitemeter copped a plea: Guilty. Their site was pretty wonky this morning as they were uploading an ad banner on their site.

This was just a drill. Not Anwr, unfortunately. Had this been a real emergency, I wouldn't be here.

There's nothing to see here, now. Move along, please. Step away from the blog. There ya go.

You don't have to go home, but you ca... well, yes, you can stay here, if you like.

"Es too much. Lemme sum up."

Here's the deal so far: if you have Internet Explorer for your browser, you won't be able to see any website that has Sitemeter placed in a side frame or widget. Possibly even your own.

If you have a website with the sitemeter widget in the side frames, nobody that browses the Internet with Internet Explorer can see your website before they get an error notice.

There are two things you can decide to do:

If you are able to actually load your website with the sitemeter still intact, then you either already have sitemeter embedded into the BODY of your site's HTML script, or you are using some other browser besides Mr. Gates' lovely IE7.

So, you can either download Firefox in order to see all of your friends' blogs that haven't figured out how to fix it. (Or just wait for MS to get around to it.) But your friends still can't see your site, if you leave the meter on it. (in a widget or side frame.)

Or, you can kill sitemeter, which will make your site visible, but you still won't be able to see anyone else's site that still has sitemeter.

Or you can do both: fix your site, (see previous post) allowing it to keep sitemeter and be visible. And download Firefox in order to see all your friends' sites who haven't fixed, won't fix, can't figure out how to fix their sites.

I Feex, I Feex!

If you're on IE7 and reading this, which I was able to do, then I have the fix for all of us poor Blogspot folks out there. BRB-- (refresh, for the latest.)

h/t to Vman for the link to MS's error site. Gear heads can go there for the same clue.

In a nutshell, the sitemeter link is usually in one of those "page element" boxes called widgets. You gotta select the "blog post" part of your layout, then find the tab up top that says "Edit HTML". BEWARE!! You MUST save your template to your desktop BEFORE farkin' around with your templates mysterious innards!

In a separate tab, go to sitemeter.com's management page for your site and copy the html text you normally have in your widget.

Now go back to your template and scroll all de way down, mon. You'll see the last few lines will have these words inbetween the carat thingies:

/body
/p
/div
div
or some such.

The dealio is, place your cursor just before that text, < "/body"> and paste. Do a preview of your page, scroll all de way down, mon, and you should see your sitemeter sitting pretty down there. (You can place it anywhere, but if you don't know what you're doing, just go with what's easy.) Save it. If you messed up, you can reload your template and all will revert.

IMPORTANT! Find the widget page element that has your HTML script in it and remove it, then hit publish. Not as hard as it sounds. If you get stuck, email me.

Hope it works, kids.

Listen Up, IE7 Pukes! Get Firefox NOW!

If you can read this, it's because I killed Sitemeter for your benefit, certainly not mine. (Update: there's a workaround see next post.)

Update: Here's the deal so far: if you have Internet Explorer for your browser, you won't be able to see any website that has Sitemeter placed in a side frame or widget. Possibly even your own.

If you have a website with the sitemeter widget in the side frames, nobody that browses the Internet with Internet Explorer can see your website before they get an error notice.

There are two things you can decide to do: If you are able to actually load your website with the sitemeter still intact, then you either already have sitemeter embedded into the BODY of your site's HTML script, or you are using some other browser besides Mr. Gates' lovely IE7.

So, you can download Firefox in order to see all of your friends' blogs that haven't figured out how to fix it. (Or just wait for MS to get around to it.) But your friends still can't see your site.

Or, you can kill sitemeter, which will make you site visible, but you still won't be able to see anyone else's site that still has sitemeter.

Tomorrow is my very FIRST Blog Birthday and you can't imagine how I've been waiting to cite my sitemeter. Argghh!

But no, instead I have to babysit all the truly wonderful folks who read my blog but don't have a technological brain cell in their being. I can't even brag to them or about them unless I can't see or count them.

What's even sadder is that everyone is locked out of their own blog and can't get sitemeter off of it unless they download a different browser. Good luck with that, blog homies.

Gonna be a quiet day in Blogdom.

Go to Mozilla. Get Firefox.(caution: link will start a download script.) You'll be glad you did because more of this sort of meltdown between Bill Gates and The Rest of The World is coming soon to a Blog near you.

Breaking! Rebellion! Republicans Found Their Balls!! In the Dark!

Only took $4.00 gasoline to help them rummage through Pelosi's purse and reclaim their manhood.

The Dems adjourned, turned out the lights--twice!-- and the Pubbies remain. They're shouting out to any other Republican in town to return to the floor. They're making noise at last!

Better late than never? Wait and see!

Live-blogged at Politico. The updates are a hoot! Here's an excerpt:

No shirt? No tie? No problem.

Michigan Republican Mike Rogers returned to the House floor in shorts and sandals to take his turn at the podium, as the Republican talkathon continues on the House floor, hours after the chamber formally recessed for the week.

Looking like he was ready for the links in a pair of cargo shorts and a short-sleeve shirt, Rogers said he was preparing to drive back to Michigan when he pulled a U-turn and headed back into town.

"I had gotten in my car to drive home and I realized I didn't have enough money to pay for the first tank of gas," said Rogers.

Republican Rep. Rob Bishop of Utah was also spotted on the House floor in shorts and sandals.

See bootlegged live video from the floor at John Culberson's place.

Gateway Pundit's got it going on!

And you thought August was gonna be boring!