It's no longer chaos here at the compound. Almost all of the errands are done (just one more quick run to the grocery tonight, late, and a run tomorrow morning for ice.) We've got the food:
hamburgers
bratwurst
chicken breasts
and we've got the beer:
1 case of Pabst Blue Ribbon
1 case of Warsteiner
1 case of Amstel Light
1 1/2 cases of Corona
1 12-pack of Spaten Optimator
1 12-pack of Point
1 12-pack of Berghoff Red
I'm working on the music with my eldest, and all the flags are flying. Good times ahead.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Grilled Cheese Sandwich
I had to go back and delete that Tiny Tim musical interlude from a couple days ago. It scared the hell out of the parrot, and then I ended up with that version of "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" stuck in my head, accompanied by parrot screeching. I don't need that.
My youngest asked me to teach her how to make a proper grilled cheese sandwich. So forget Tiny Tim. Think good thoughts. Think about grilled cheese sandwiches.
Peaceful moment
This is from the side yard, the evening of June 29. The square foot vegetable garden is in the foreground, and the new butterfly garden is along the side of the house.
Three months ago this was a weed-strewn patch, and the dog's favorite place to relieve themselves.
I like it better this way.
Unlicensed, drunk & masturbating is no way to go through life
"I'm no role model."
--Charles Barkley
I've never been a huge fan of pro sports; I like football and I'll go to a baseball game or two every season. Lately, though, professional athletes (I'm limiting my observations to baseball, basketball and NFL football here) resemble nothing so much as out of control man-children. Like Minnesota Timberwolves center Eddie Griffin, who crashed his Cadillac Escalade, drunk, while masturbating to a porn tape he watched on his dash-mounted DVD player. At least he wasn't shooting a handgun Yosemite Sam-style as he crashed.
Now the two apparently star-struck cops who gave him a pass are under investigation themselves.
Some stories just write themselves.
--Charles Barkley
I've never been a huge fan of pro sports; I like football and I'll go to a baseball game or two every season. Lately, though, professional athletes (I'm limiting my observations to baseball, basketball and NFL football here) resemble nothing so much as out of control man-children. Like Minnesota Timberwolves center Eddie Griffin, who crashed his Cadillac Escalade, drunk, while masturbating to a porn tape he watched on his dash-mounted DVD player. At least he wasn't shooting a handgun Yosemite Sam-style as he crashed.
Now the two apparently star-struck cops who gave him a pass are under investigation themselves.
Some stories just write themselves.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Chaos at the Compound
Here it is, just a few days away from the weekend, and it's chaos here at the compound. Not so chaotic, mind you, that I can't find a few minutes to sit down and write about how chaotic it is...but still.
We are having a small party on the 1st to celebrate our great nation's Independence Day. Last year we expected around 30 people and ended up with 65. While there's been great progress in the yard, there's much to be done still. The house is bordering on pigsty from all the dirt we've been tracking in from the garden, compounded (heh) by the usual stacks of paperwork and periodicals I bring home from work, laundry needing folding, craft projects, dog toys, boxes of bullets, Tasers, you name it. I haven't even started making lists yet. OH, and MizBubs still hasn't settled on the prototype of her new drink, the Don Ho Motherf*cker, that we promised to unveil this weekend. So much to do...
I think we're going to eliminate the fireworks part of our program this year. Just no time to make a run to Wisconsin or Indiana. While the temptation will be great to throw something combustible into the chimnea after a few drinks, I think I can resist it. We'll all just have to cope. I've also scaled back the food plans--no more pulled pork barbecue. I'll be the only swine there. No, wait, I gots to have pork product, especially with guests from Iowa. Maybe some chops or some sausage, but mark my words, there will be pig meat. We may fall back on your standard burgers and all, but with enough beer hopefully no one will complain.
MizBubs, girl dynamo, dropped a cement brick on her foot today, so hopefully we're pre-disastered. She's already on the mend and has scarcely slowed down. Matter of fact, while I'm taking it easy here pre-heating the grill, she's at Homeowner Hell buying more cypress mulch.
I have to work tomorrow, but the better part of my afternoon will be spent at the State's Attorney's office preparing for a jury trial that starts in 2 weeks. I'll get home early, sit down with Miz over a tasty cocktail, and then the real pre-party fun begins.
This is cool.
We are having a small party on the 1st to celebrate our great nation's Independence Day. Last year we expected around 30 people and ended up with 65. While there's been great progress in the yard, there's much to be done still. The house is bordering on pigsty from all the dirt we've been tracking in from the garden, compounded (heh) by the usual stacks of paperwork and periodicals I bring home from work, laundry needing folding, craft projects, dog toys, boxes of bullets, Tasers, you name it. I haven't even started making lists yet. OH, and MizBubs still hasn't settled on the prototype of her new drink, the Don Ho Motherf*cker, that we promised to unveil this weekend. So much to do...
I think we're going to eliminate the fireworks part of our program this year. Just no time to make a run to Wisconsin or Indiana. While the temptation will be great to throw something combustible into the chimnea after a few drinks, I think I can resist it. We'll all just have to cope. I've also scaled back the food plans--no more pulled pork barbecue. I'll be the only swine there. No, wait, I gots to have pork product, especially with guests from Iowa. Maybe some chops or some sausage, but mark my words, there will be pig meat. We may fall back on your standard burgers and all, but with enough beer hopefully no one will complain.
MizBubs, girl dynamo, dropped a cement brick on her foot today, so hopefully we're pre-disastered. She's already on the mend and has scarcely slowed down. Matter of fact, while I'm taking it easy here pre-heating the grill, she's at Homeowner Hell buying more cypress mulch.
I have to work tomorrow, but the better part of my afternoon will be spent at the State's Attorney's office preparing for a jury trial that starts in 2 weeks. I'll get home early, sit down with Miz over a tasty cocktail, and then the real pre-party fun begins.
This is cool.
My lucky brother-in-law
Got to go for a ride, along with his family, in a B-17 Flying Fortress. That's the same type of plane as the famed "Memphis Belle." I haven't gotten all the details yet, but I'm betting the plane they flew in was the Aluminum Overcast, which is touring the midwest. The downside is the $359 cost, but you can't always put a price tag on cool.
Chinese Death Vans
Chinese Death Vans
From BLDG BLOG, courtesy of Bawb the Revelator. You can see the original USA Today story here.
From BLDG BLOG, courtesy of Bawb the Revelator. You can see the original USA Today story here.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Study shows virtue is regretted more than vice
HA! A new study published in the Journal of Consumer Research says that in the short run, vice is regretted more than doing the right thing, but over time virtue is regretted more. The report describes guilt and shame as "hot" emotions which are more intense and short-lived than "wistful, contemplative feelings such as nostalgia." Whereas your regret at drinking too much at the office Christmas party and doing a striptease on top of the buffet table will be intense in the days following the event, your regret at never having attended wild parties, or never having done anything wild or reckless will become greater over time. Think of every mopey, regretful older person you've ever listened to, talking about what they should have done.
Perfect hillbilly philosophy. Basically this study is expressing, in academic terms, what the Cramps already taught us in their song "Let's Get F*cked Up."
The article is titled "Repenting Hyperopia: An Analysis of Self-Control Regrets". It's got some great charts toward the end!
Perfect hillbilly philosophy. Basically this study is expressing, in academic terms, what the Cramps already taught us in their song "Let's Get F*cked Up."
The article is titled "Repenting Hyperopia: An Analysis of Self-Control Regrets". It's got some great charts toward the end!
Monday, June 26, 2006
Gut Feeling: Final Chapter
Let's start the week off right!
Weeks ago, when I started this blog, I talked about some surgery I had, and I published pictures of my gut and its angry red scar. I also promised that I would show some pictures of my intestines.
Heh heh heh. Doc came through for me on my last visit. Here's a series of pics that he took while yours truly was gutted like a fish, lying like a patient etherised upon a table. I wish I could explain what it is that you're about to look at, other than to say two of the pictures show a dark medical probe pulling some of the affected area out to be worked on.
My eldest convinced me, in the interest of decency, to post a link to the pictures here instead of putting the picture right up where everyone could see it. Enjoy!
On a related note, I found the digital camera yesterday, so pictures of the yard project will follow.
Weeks ago, when I started this blog, I talked about some surgery I had, and I published pictures of my gut and its angry red scar. I also promised that I would show some pictures of my intestines.
Heh heh heh. Doc came through for me on my last visit. Here's a series of pics that he took while yours truly was gutted like a fish, lying like a patient etherised upon a table. I wish I could explain what it is that you're about to look at, other than to say two of the pictures show a dark medical probe pulling some of the affected area out to be worked on.
My eldest convinced me, in the interest of decency, to post a link to the pictures here instead of putting the picture right up where everyone could see it. Enjoy!
On a related note, I found the digital camera yesterday, so pictures of the yard project will follow.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Lawrence Welk meets the Velvet Underground
In 1968, The Velvet Underground finally found a large, mainstream audience during a performance on the Lawrence Welk Show:
Time to barbecue
Yeah, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Time to barbecue!
Miz Bubs, mistress of thrift, pulled a bag of unidentified meat out of the deepfreeze yesterday. Once it thawed enough I was able to see that it was about a pound and a half of country style ribs, fat meaty and boneless. Not enough to feed a whole family, but it's a start.
The ribs are out on the grill now, rubbed with some good dry spices, sitting over a drip pan full of water at 250-275 degrees. Got my hickory chips smoking, too. My back porch smells like Kentucky now. Specifically, it smells like the parking lot of Bootleg Barbecue on Bardstown Road just outside Louisville. Mmmmmm.
The ribs should be coming off the grill around 6. So, what's for dinner?
Grilled catfish
Roasted sweet potatoes
Southern green beans
I should make a chess pie, but I've got some cleaning to do first.
All Sunday afternoons should be like this.
Miz Bubs, mistress of thrift, pulled a bag of unidentified meat out of the deepfreeze yesterday. Once it thawed enough I was able to see that it was about a pound and a half of country style ribs, fat meaty and boneless. Not enough to feed a whole family, but it's a start.
The ribs are out on the grill now, rubbed with some good dry spices, sitting over a drip pan full of water at 250-275 degrees. Got my hickory chips smoking, too. My back porch smells like Kentucky now. Specifically, it smells like the parking lot of Bootleg Barbecue on Bardstown Road just outside Louisville. Mmmmmm.
The ribs should be coming off the grill around 6. So, what's for dinner?
Grilled catfish
Roasted sweet potatoes
Southern green beans
I should make a chess pie, but I've got some cleaning to do first.
All Sunday afternoons should be like this.
There's always Elvis
5:30 am, the phone is ringing. I try reaching across MizBubs to get it, without crushing her underneath me (having the phone on her side of the bed is stupid, I know, since I'm the only one likely to get a call in the middle of the night) and then fumble around trying to find the talk button until it stops ringing. Dang.
Now I have to get out of bed and go down and check the answering machine. No message, so I scroll through received calls and, sure enough, it's from work. I call work, and then realize that I am now wide awake, but not in a good lets-greet-the-new-morning kind of way. Crap.
At least there's Elvis. There's always Elvis.
Now I have to get out of bed and go down and check the answering machine. No message, so I scroll through received calls and, sure enough, it's from work. I call work, and then realize that I am now wide awake, but not in a good lets-greet-the-new-morning kind of way. Crap.
At least there's Elvis. There's always Elvis.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Gardening News
Ahhh...the world may be a crazy mixed up place, but at least we have a garden.
The hollyhocks are about to flower. The purple coneflower is blooming. The vegetable garden is looking healthy, I'll start harvesting some baby lettuce and radishes tomorrow. The herb garden is doing great, as are all our prairie flowers and bushes. We still can't find the dang digital camera, though, so there aren't any pictures.
I finished putting the deck together today. I kind of zapped myself when I cut through the power cord with the circular saw, simultaneously putting the saw out of service just as I trimmed back the last corner of the frame. So I need to borrow a circular saw to trim back all the planks that make up the deck itself, but at least they're all attached. It's nice back there.
Keep your fingers crossed for the pond. Miz Bubs, girl genius, was reduced to abject tears this morning before she left for work. After all her efforts, there is a leak of some kind. It's in the pond itself, not the waterfall, and she thinks it's somewhere along a seam in the liner. The pond level went down by about 4 inches overnight. We're going to see if it goes down any more; if it does, well, then, we're in trouble. If it doesn't, it means that the leak is above the where the waterline is now (as of 8pm.) I felt terrible, all I could tell her was I was sorry and try and reassure her. She's worked so hard.
The lawn in back is lush and green, and it feels good to walk on barefoot. Our willow fencing arrived, and we need to find some stakes to put it in with.
We finally knocked off around 8pm. MizBubs lifted our moods by making some delicious gin and tonics with her favorite, Citadelle Gin. It's from France. Sure they sold stuff to Iraq (who didn't?) and some of them appeased the Nazis, but still--they do make some good spirits.
The hollyhocks are about to flower. The purple coneflower is blooming. The vegetable garden is looking healthy, I'll start harvesting some baby lettuce and radishes tomorrow. The herb garden is doing great, as are all our prairie flowers and bushes. We still can't find the dang digital camera, though, so there aren't any pictures.
I finished putting the deck together today. I kind of zapped myself when I cut through the power cord with the circular saw, simultaneously putting the saw out of service just as I trimmed back the last corner of the frame. So I need to borrow a circular saw to trim back all the planks that make up the deck itself, but at least they're all attached. It's nice back there.
Keep your fingers crossed for the pond. Miz Bubs, girl genius, was reduced to abject tears this morning before she left for work. After all her efforts, there is a leak of some kind. It's in the pond itself, not the waterfall, and she thinks it's somewhere along a seam in the liner. The pond level went down by about 4 inches overnight. We're going to see if it goes down any more; if it does, well, then, we're in trouble. If it doesn't, it means that the leak is above the where the waterline is now (as of 8pm.) I felt terrible, all I could tell her was I was sorry and try and reassure her. She's worked so hard.
The lawn in back is lush and green, and it feels good to walk on barefoot. Our willow fencing arrived, and we need to find some stakes to put it in with.
We finally knocked off around 8pm. MizBubs lifted our moods by making some delicious gin and tonics with her favorite, Citadelle Gin. It's from France. Sure they sold stuff to Iraq (who didn't?) and some of them appeased the Nazis, but still--they do make some good spirits.
Oddballs tried mix of creeds & religions
I'm feeling better now. I was in kind of a serious, nearly grim mood the past few days. When looking at the last few entries, I noticed a definite lack of whack-job stories; in their place were angry pieces about the economy and the war in Iraq.
Well, folks, buck up, because thanks to our federal law enforcement authorities I can express my anger at the Bush administration while also satisfying my love of bizarre news stories.
Where do I start? Well, first of all, the indictment. The grand jury indictment against the Miami 7 is only 11 pages long. You can find it here on the Department of Justice website. 11 pages, and not a lot of specifics either.
Every conspiracy needs what's called "an act in furtherance;" it's not enough to sit around talking about doing a crime, one of the conspirators has to actually do something to advance the plot. According to this Houston Chronicle article:
The ringleader of this outfit, Narseal Batiste, also known as "Brother Naz" or "Prince Manna" (those readers who are also expectant parents, take note of these unique baby names!) was influenced by, or formerly a member of, an outfit called the Moorish Science Temple of America. That group splintered in the 50's, and many of its members went on to form the Nation of Islam. You can read more about them here.
Now, bringing it all home to Chicago. Brother Naz was originally from Chicago! This proves once more that the stolid midwest is really no place to grow a grandiose, violence-prone crackpot cult. You gotta have a warmer, swampier climate for that. Brother Naz, with his flowing robes and big stick and staring for hours at the sky, couldn't make it in Chicago:
Well, folks, buck up, because thanks to our federal law enforcement authorities I can express my anger at the Bush administration while also satisfying my love of bizarre news stories.
Where do I start? Well, first of all, the indictment. The grand jury indictment against the Miami 7 is only 11 pages long. You can find it here on the Department of Justice website. 11 pages, and not a lot of specifics either.
Every conspiracy needs what's called "an act in furtherance;" it's not enough to sit around talking about doing a crime, one of the conspirators has to actually do something to advance the plot. According to this Houston Chronicle article:
Among the first acts alleged by the conspirators was giving the FBI informant their shoe sizes so he could buy them military boots.Imagine that conversation: "We want to kill as many devils as we can. But first we must have comfortable yet durable footwear, like military boots. Here is a list of our sizes."
The ringleader of this outfit, Narseal Batiste, also known as "Brother Naz" or "Prince Manna" (those readers who are also expectant parents, take note of these unique baby names!) was influenced by, or formerly a member of, an outfit called the Moorish Science Temple of America. That group splintered in the 50's, and many of its members went on to form the Nation of Islam. You can read more about them here.
Now, bringing it all home to Chicago. Brother Naz was originally from Chicago! This proves once more that the stolid midwest is really no place to grow a grandiose, violence-prone crackpot cult. You gotta have a warmer, swampier climate for that. Brother Naz, with his flowing robes and big stick and staring for hours at the sky, couldn't make it in Chicago:
Their leader, Narseal Batiste, was known in his native Chicago for his large, wooden walking stick, flowing robes and matching headdress - either white or purple.
Things are finally back to normal. Thank you.
Saturday Morning Coffee...oh crap, it's AFTERNOON coffee now
I am a slug.
I was full of ambition for today. Maybe I'll get some of it back. I hope so, anyway. I decided to do more hours at the carnival, after all. Long story short, Miz Bubs, dear woman, had planned on surprising me for our anniversary by booking a Las Vegas trip for us! When I started asking about picking up more hours at the carnival she was kind of non-committal, but then she finally came out with her plan the night before our anniversary. Turns out that she wasn't really sure about the mechanics of trip planning (I go through obsessive and arcane processes involving multiple list-making, price checking and hours of online time every time we go somewhere) so she just sprang her gift on me and encouraged me to get started. SO...
We now have three nights in August booked at the fabulous Orleans Hotel & Casino, and I ended up getting an excellent airfare through United. Which was lucky and took some work, because the average airfare from Chicago to LV was up in the $250-$300 range, and even then the departure/return times weren't that great. And, thanks to the last two nights, the air and hotel is already paid for. I'm just a little groggy from working all day and then 6-11pm on Thursday, and again from 6pm-midnight last night, after going in at 8am for a 2 hour staff meeting.
I got home last night at 1am after two relatively quiet nights at the parish carnival. On Thursday night I got called racist more times in one night than I have in the previous 5 or 6 years. I got it once from a black guy who turned out to be an old Vice Lord gang member, and again from a Latino kid who was a Latin King. I got it a couple more times from some other Latin Kings as they were being escorted off the premises, but at least they kept moving while they flapped their gums. And it's funny, too, because about half of our local Kings are Assyrian, including the ones I was escorting out at the time. On a related note, the Chicago Crime Commission just came out with their new gang guide, and they're reporting what we've all seen for a few years now: gangs are migrating to the suburbs from Chicago.
It's been a while since I've been on the street, but from what I've heard from a lot of our patrol officers that's now a standard line they get the instant they approach many people of color: the old "because I'm black/because I'm Latino" line, said with a lot of theatrical throwing up of hands, f-words and angry body language. I got a taste of it the past couple nights, and I'm glad I don't deal with it on a daily basis. There's a phrase that's turned up in policing in the past few years: "NCNC" which stands for "no contact, no complaint." The less you do anything proactive and deal with the public, the less your chances of getting beefed on. Google "de-policing" and you'll find some interesting articles.
OK, I've pulled myself together and it's time to make another run to Homeowner Hell. Hopefully I'll finish the deck today.
I was full of ambition for today. Maybe I'll get some of it back. I hope so, anyway. I decided to do more hours at the carnival, after all. Long story short, Miz Bubs, dear woman, had planned on surprising me for our anniversary by booking a Las Vegas trip for us! When I started asking about picking up more hours at the carnival she was kind of non-committal, but then she finally came out with her plan the night before our anniversary. Turns out that she wasn't really sure about the mechanics of trip planning (I go through obsessive and arcane processes involving multiple list-making, price checking and hours of online time every time we go somewhere) so she just sprang her gift on me and encouraged me to get started. SO...
We now have three nights in August booked at the fabulous Orleans Hotel & Casino, and I ended up getting an excellent airfare through United. Which was lucky and took some work, because the average airfare from Chicago to LV was up in the $250-$300 range, and even then the departure/return times weren't that great. And, thanks to the last two nights, the air and hotel is already paid for. I'm just a little groggy from working all day and then 6-11pm on Thursday, and again from 6pm-midnight last night, after going in at 8am for a 2 hour staff meeting.
I got home last night at 1am after two relatively quiet nights at the parish carnival. On Thursday night I got called racist more times in one night than I have in the previous 5 or 6 years. I got it once from a black guy who turned out to be an old Vice Lord gang member, and again from a Latino kid who was a Latin King. I got it a couple more times from some other Latin Kings as they were being escorted off the premises, but at least they kept moving while they flapped their gums. And it's funny, too, because about half of our local Kings are Assyrian, including the ones I was escorting out at the time. On a related note, the Chicago Crime Commission just came out with their new gang guide, and they're reporting what we've all seen for a few years now: gangs are migrating to the suburbs from Chicago.
It's been a while since I've been on the street, but from what I've heard from a lot of our patrol officers that's now a standard line they get the instant they approach many people of color: the old "because I'm black/because I'm Latino" line, said with a lot of theatrical throwing up of hands, f-words and angry body language. I got a taste of it the past couple nights, and I'm glad I don't deal with it on a daily basis. There's a phrase that's turned up in policing in the past few years: "NCNC" which stands for "no contact, no complaint." The less you do anything proactive and deal with the public, the less your chances of getting beefed on. Google "de-policing" and you'll find some interesting articles.
OK, I've pulled myself together and it's time to make another run to Homeowner Hell. Hopefully I'll finish the deck today.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Major Terror Ring Or Al Qaeda Lite?
I just found this CBS News piece by Andrew Cohen. Here's a quote:
Why the cynicism? Because I've been down this road before. I remember when the feds charged John Lindh with conspiracy to commit murder even though he was sitting trapped in a filthy prison in Mazar-i-Sharif the middle of a war between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance when CIA agent Johnny Michael Spann was murdered by thugs. I remember when the feds tried to sell us on the notion that Moussaoui was the 20th hijacker long after they knew he wasn't. I remember when the government told us that Yaser Esam Hamdi was so valuable as an intelligence asset and so dangerous as a terrorist that he had to be held incommunicado and without charges as an "enemy combatant" until the feds lost a round in court and promptly set him free.
I remember the hullabaloo about the prosecution of terror suspects in Michigan that later imploded amid allegations of prosecutorial misconduct (the prosecutors failed to turn over exculpatory evidence). And of course I will never forget John Ashcroft, then-attorney general, interrupting a visit to Russia to jump on a satellite feed to warn us all back home that Padilla was a would-be "dirty bomber." Today, Padilla is just a regular old terror defendant in a case his Miami judge this week called "light on facts."
Because I remember these things, and because they contain the common themes of over-hyping and over-dramatization that are possible here, I'm going to wait a bit before I declare this latest indictment a major victory in the war on terrorism. I suggest you do as well.
Something's fishy with Miami terror arrest
OK, I've just started to catch up on the news about the arrest in Miami of 7 men for plotting to blow up the Sears Tower, among other things. My first thought was "great, glad to see my federal tax dollars at work." Then I started to notice a few things that bothered me.
Here was the first thing. One of the spokesman referred to the defendant's planning as being in the "aspirational, not operational" phase. Then I learned that the arrests were made in Liberty City, and the defendants had last names that sounded Haitian. And they were arrested after spouting off to a federal informant.
Then, the Superintendent of the Chicago Police, and some officials from Sears, gave a press conference where they said there was "never any credible threat" to the Sears Tower.
So, we've successfully arrested a bunch of grab-ass low-income Haitians using an informant, who provided them with the camera that they used to take video of their intended "targets," for wanting to work for Al-Qaeda and talking out loud about how much they hate the USA. From what I've seen of the terror cell's wish list--"boots, uniforms, machine guns, radios, vehicles and $50,000 in cash to help him build an “’Islamic Army’ to wage jihad’”--they sound more like ghetto shakedown artists than terrorists.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad our government can arrest assholes like this before they become an imminent threat, but forgive me for being a little skeptical. Remember Jose Padilla, dirty bomber? There was lots of hoopla surrounding his arrest, but now 4 years later it's looking like the dirty bomb charges have all gone away.
This made me do a little googling of Jose Padilla. And guess what--there was a hearing on June 21st. The judge hearing the Padilla case directed prosecutors to turn over evidence to support their case, describing their indictment as "very light on facts."
It seems to me that this Miami arrest has done a very fine job of keeping Padilla off the evening news, and provided some much-needed happy news for the Bush administration.
Here was the first thing. One of the spokesman referred to the defendant's planning as being in the "aspirational, not operational" phase. Then I learned that the arrests were made in Liberty City, and the defendants had last names that sounded Haitian. And they were arrested after spouting off to a federal informant.
Then, the Superintendent of the Chicago Police, and some officials from Sears, gave a press conference where they said there was "never any credible threat" to the Sears Tower.
So, we've successfully arrested a bunch of grab-ass low-income Haitians using an informant, who provided them with the camera that they used to take video of their intended "targets," for wanting to work for Al-Qaeda and talking out loud about how much they hate the USA. From what I've seen of the terror cell's wish list--"boots, uniforms, machine guns, radios, vehicles and $50,000 in cash to help him build an “’Islamic Army’ to wage jihad’”--they sound more like ghetto shakedown artists than terrorists.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad our government can arrest assholes like this before they become an imminent threat, but forgive me for being a little skeptical. Remember Jose Padilla, dirty bomber? There was lots of hoopla surrounding his arrest, but now 4 years later it's looking like the dirty bomb charges have all gone away.
This made me do a little googling of Jose Padilla. And guess what--there was a hearing on June 21st. The judge hearing the Padilla case directed prosecutors to turn over evidence to support their case, describing their indictment as "very light on facts."
It seems to me that this Miami arrest has done a very fine job of keeping Padilla off the evening news, and provided some much-needed happy news for the Bush administration.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Now I'm even angrier
As a former member of the Illinois National Guard, stories like this are especially painful and infuriating.
In June 2004, two American soldiers from the California National Guard were killed in Iraq by the bastards we're supposed to be trying to help over there. The Army didn't tell the families that until yesterday.
Spc. Patrick McCaffrey and 1st Lt. Andre Tyson were training Iraqi military, and had expressed doubts about the trustworthiness of the "soldiers" they were training. Fellow Guardsmen believed right away that Iraqi troops were responsible for the killings.
Here's a quote from the article:
Army officials blamed the delay on the complexity of the case, and said that politics over the war in Iraq played no role in the holdup. But McCaffrey's father, Bob McCaffrey of Redding, scoffed at that claim.
"It's a bunch of lies, a bunch of smoke and mirrors. It makes me mad as hell," McCaffrey said. "But the military does not make these decisions on their own. They're told by the administration, 'No, that could be damaging.' They're told not to talk to the McCaffreys, that it could be damaging. They just have no regard for the truth."
A fitting summary of this entire administration, if you ask me.
In June 2004, two American soldiers from the California National Guard were killed in Iraq by the bastards we're supposed to be trying to help over there. The Army didn't tell the families that until yesterday.
Spc. Patrick McCaffrey and 1st Lt. Andre Tyson were training Iraqi military, and had expressed doubts about the trustworthiness of the "soldiers" they were training. Fellow Guardsmen believed right away that Iraqi troops were responsible for the killings.
Here's a quote from the article:
Army officials blamed the delay on the complexity of the case, and said that politics over the war in Iraq played no role in the holdup. But McCaffrey's father, Bob McCaffrey of Redding, scoffed at that claim.
"It's a bunch of lies, a bunch of smoke and mirrors. It makes me mad as hell," McCaffrey said. "But the military does not make these decisions on their own. They're told by the administration, 'No, that could be damaging.' They're told not to talk to the McCaffreys, that it could be damaging. They just have no regard for the truth."
A fitting summary of this entire administration, if you ask me.
Meritocracy in America
This piece from the Economist is a good follow-up to the minimum wage article I posted earlier.
There's something seriously wrong when this kind of wage disparity exists.
Sorry if I disappoint any readers by going an entire day or two without any oddball pop culture, freak news, animal attacks or white trash. I find myself, as Independence Day approaches, thinking grim thoughts on the state of our great nation.
There's something seriously wrong when this kind of wage disparity exists.
Sorry if I disappoint any readers by going an entire day or two without any oddball pop culture, freak news, animal attacks or white trash. I find myself, as Independence Day approaches, thinking grim thoughts on the state of our great nation.
Senators making $165k per year stand tall to beat minimum wage hike
The Senate voted 52-46 in favor of raising the minimum wage, but fell short of the 60 votes needed. Another big thank you to the Republican Party.
For the math-challenged like myself, here's what minimum wage is for a full-time worker: $10,712 per year. That's well below the federal poverty level for an individual, let alone a couple or family.
According to the Economic Policy Institute, when adjusting for inflation, the minimum wage is at its lowest level since 1955. Since the minimum wage was last raised in 1997, Congress has voted itself pay raises totalling $31,000 per year.
For the math-challenged like myself, here's what minimum wage is for a full-time worker: $10,712 per year. That's well below the federal poverty level for an individual, let alone a couple or family.
According to the Economic Policy Institute, when adjusting for inflation, the minimum wage is at its lowest level since 1955. Since the minimum wage was last raised in 1997, Congress has voted itself pay raises totalling $31,000 per year.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
WORLD CUP FOOTBALL!!!!
I finally, for the first time in my life, saw a World Cup match today. Well, I saw about 5 minutes of it, enough to see England score against Sweden. Made me kinda wish I had any idea what the hell I was watching.
27 years ago...
Twenty-seven years ago I was sad, angry, shy, fifteen year old girl with a very bad homelife and low self esteem. I had this one friend who was determined to improve my lot in life. She decided I was going to this stupid carnival near her house. She came to my house, forced me to get dressed and go to the carnival. Crap. As we were getting on the teacup ride she tapped me on the shoulder and said "look at this guys eyes". As I turned to look, "this guy" moved right in front of me and asked if he could come on the ride with us. He had the most amazing clear blue eyes, enhanced by perfect dark brows and a full head of dark curly hair. I was speechless. I was sure he was interested in my friend anyway, so I let her answer. Imagine my surprise when he sat next to ME! Then, raising his voice to be heard over the carnival noise, he asked "do you girls party?" My friend and I locked eyes and laughed in unison. Not little, polite laughs, but belly laughs. The poor guy was so confused and embarrassed. Not being familiar with Chicago youth culture, he had asked two obviously "nice" girls a question no native Chicago boy would ask us. Only the black Loop radio t-shirt wearing types used that phrase in 1979. Well, I gently set him straight and we started talking about classic horror films, and the rest is, as they say, history.
Atomic Surgery: Mad Monster Party
Remember I told you about that cool blog I was reading? I was showing Atomic Surgery ("Scrambling the molecules of science and pop culture") to my youngest this morning, and I enjoyed the confused look on her face when she watched the trailer for the Rankin Bass sub-classic Mad Monster Party. I woulda loved to have been at the swingin' cocktail party when some sharkskin suit-wearing ad types came up with this concept:
Monday, June 19, 2006
I Dig this blog!
And I recommend that you take a look at its trash music monster movie goodness. Like, now. I gotta love anyone who has video clips from Mad Monster Party. That movie rocked. At least, it did to a 6 year old with a honkin' collection of Famous Monsters of Filmland.
So check this guy out.
So check this guy out.
27 Years Ago Today
A 17 year old boy arrived on the north side of Chicago, and got dragged by his parents to a parish carnival in Rogers Park. He was miserable. He'd just finished his junior year of high school, and right at the end of the year got transplanted halfway across the country--no friends, and the prospect of starting at a new school at the beginning of senior year. No more BMOC.
The carnival sucked. The games, the people, the crappy band doing covers of Styx, Rush and REO Speedwagon. All of it.
Anyway, he spotted this girl there. She didn't look like all the other girls--the ones with the black Loop tee shirts and the badly feathered hair and the blue eye shadow and the black suede shoes with the wavy bottoms...this girl had beautiful pale skin full unpainted lips and sparkling green eyes that were afraid to look right at you, and a mane of curly hair that fell down past her shoulders. He followed her around for nearly half an hour, reduced to indecision. Too scared to walk up and talk to her, too fascinated and lonely to walk away.
His decision was made when his kid brother walked up and announced that the family was leaving in a few minutes. The house was just a block away, but they were staying at a hotel until the movers brought their stuff later that week. The brother left, and the boy walked straight up to the girl and her friend as they got onto some tilt-a-whirl ride. He asked if he could get on the ride; the object of his desire turned pink and stared at her feet, her bubbly friend said yes.
The ride started up, slowly, and, desperate to make conversation in a way that he thought cool kids in Chicago did, he said
"So...do you girls party?"
The rest, as they say, is history.
The carnival sucked. The games, the people, the crappy band doing covers of Styx, Rush and REO Speedwagon. All of it.
Anyway, he spotted this girl there. She didn't look like all the other girls--the ones with the black Loop tee shirts and the badly feathered hair and the blue eye shadow and the black suede shoes with the wavy bottoms...this girl had beautiful pale skin full unpainted lips and sparkling green eyes that were afraid to look right at you, and a mane of curly hair that fell down past her shoulders. He followed her around for nearly half an hour, reduced to indecision. Too scared to walk up and talk to her, too fascinated and lonely to walk away.
His decision was made when his kid brother walked up and announced that the family was leaving in a few minutes. The house was just a block away, but they were staying at a hotel until the movers brought their stuff later that week. The brother left, and the boy walked straight up to the girl and her friend as they got onto some tilt-a-whirl ride. He asked if he could get on the ride; the object of his desire turned pink and stared at her feet, her bubbly friend said yes.
The ride started up, slowly, and, desperate to make conversation in a way that he thought cool kids in Chicago did, he said
"So...do you girls party?"
The rest, as they say, is history.
Carny or no carny?
What a great week and weekend. Even returning to work on Saturday couldn't spoil my mood. Miz Bubs assembled the monster grill and we used it for the first time last night, cooking up a delicious cut of meat that I'd never tried before: flatiron steak. First I rubbed it with Tony Chachere's, and then I shmeared it with a blend of crushed garlic and mustard. Then onto the grill, about 3-4 minutes on a side. The cuts plump up when you cook em, and they were surprisingly tender and flavorful. Miz Bubs got ours at the local farmers market on Sunday morning, from a place called Heartland Meats in Mendota, Illinois. It's good to know where your meat comes from.
On to my dilemna: carny or no carny?
I have an opportunity to make some extra money working a detail at a local parish carnival. It's overtime, and after the cost of living in May I'm making an obscene dollar amount at time-and-a-half. I signed up for one day later this week, but there are several other 4 and 5 hour slots available. Here's the problem: one day falls on our anniversary (which is being celebrated by having the driveway seal-coated, wooo) and the other 3 days fall on my regular days off, so I'd pretty much be eliminating a good chunk of my time off. Miz told me my time is more valuable to her right now than the money, so it sounds like a no-brainer, right?
Well, here's the thing. Las Vegas. I heard a couple guys talking about it yesterday, and it got me going. I started calculating exactly how many hours I'd have to work to pay for our airfare for me and my better half to get away for a couple of swanky days. 8 hours at the parish carnival will do that. A total of 16 hours or more pretty much pays for almost the whole trip. Downside is that I'll be wearing myself out right before the big party at the compound in July. Upside is, guilt-free trip to Las Vegas later this summer.
Whew.
On to my dilemna: carny or no carny?
I have an opportunity to make some extra money working a detail at a local parish carnival. It's overtime, and after the cost of living in May I'm making an obscene dollar amount at time-and-a-half. I signed up for one day later this week, but there are several other 4 and 5 hour slots available. Here's the problem: one day falls on our anniversary (which is being celebrated by having the driveway seal-coated, wooo) and the other 3 days fall on my regular days off, so I'd pretty much be eliminating a good chunk of my time off. Miz told me my time is more valuable to her right now than the money, so it sounds like a no-brainer, right?
Well, here's the thing. Las Vegas. I heard a couple guys talking about it yesterday, and it got me going. I started calculating exactly how many hours I'd have to work to pay for our airfare for me and my better half to get away for a couple of swanky days. 8 hours at the parish carnival will do that. A total of 16 hours or more pretty much pays for almost the whole trip. Downside is that I'll be wearing myself out right before the big party at the compound in July. Upside is, guilt-free trip to Las Vegas later this summer.
Whew.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Zuiikin Gals...
They teach English and do a nifty little aerobics routine! Remember those hokey Japanese shows like Spectreman and Ultraman? Remember the expansive gestures all those masked figures would use? I think they learned them from these gals:
Friday, June 16, 2006
It's a Number
"It's a number."
So says White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, discussing the death of the 2,500th US soldier in Iraq.
So says White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, discussing the death of the 2,500th US soldier in Iraq.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
News from the Northwest Suburbs
I've seen plenty of f*cked up divorce and custody battles, but I think this is the best one yet. An ugly fight over an 8-year old boy's circumcision.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Welcome to Fat City
Miz Bubs and I like to leave notes for each other. Notes in a packed lunch for work, post it notes on the kitchen cabinets, and little emailed notes (even if we're both at home, sometimes) to be found and surprised by later.
I came in after finishing with the sod and trench filling, and got an email from from Amanda (Miz Bubs' alias):
Joe,Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday . . . hope you have a great day!Love,Amanda
I thought oh, how sweet--she left this for me earlier, knowing I'd sign on when I came back inside. So I sent this reply:
Thank you babydoll. I love you, and this has been one of the best birthdays ever. And as I write this, I haven't even gotten into bed with you yet!Love, Joe
Just before dinner I got a call from my brother, laughing his ass off. "Joe, I suggest you take a look again at your email and make sure who you're sending your replies to." My brother's wife is also named...Amanda. Yes, I had sent my reply to my sister-in-law, whose name is now specified on my email list as "Amanda Beth." I called her up and thanked her for the birthday wish. I think she was grateful my reply hadn't been more graphic. I know I was.
But hey, check out that combination birthday/father's day/anniversary present at the top of the post--a 48,000 BTU, 4-burner grill with a 15,000 BTU side burner. YEAH. It weighs 175 pounds, and I can sleep 2 circus midgets underneath next to the propane tank.
The compound will temporarily be renamed "FAT CITY" from now until Bastille Day. Bring your bibs.
SEX BOMB!
Specifically, a GAY sex bomb.
That's what the US military tried working on, hoping to destroy its enemies by inflicting fits of uncontrollable homoerotic passion on them. They also tried a "Who? Me?" fart bomb, but concluded that it wouldn't work because "people in many areas of the world do not find faecal odour offensive, since they smell it on a regular basis". Filthy foreigners, impervious to our western fart bombs.
Did Sir Tom Jones have secret knowledge of this project? Was he trying to send us a message?
That's what the US military tried working on, hoping to destroy its enemies by inflicting fits of uncontrollable homoerotic passion on them. They also tried a "Who? Me?" fart bomb, but concluded that it wouldn't work because "people in many areas of the world do not find faecal odour offensive, since they smell it on a regular basis". Filthy foreigners, impervious to our western fart bombs.
Did Sir Tom Jones have secret knowledge of this project? Was he trying to send us a message?
Ouch. Bicyclist hits corpse, falls off bike
I am not making this up. What's really amazing is that, apparently, the suicide didn't die from the 30-foot fall. He cut his wrists after landing. He was determined.
Stupid White Kids
And as if desecrating church grounds wasn't bad enough, Trevey asked the self proclaimed punk about another mistake he made.
Trevey: "Do you know you spelled Satan wrong?"
Groth: "No - I'm not aware of that."
Trevey: "You spelled it satin - like the fabric."
Groth: "See - if I was big into the devil, I would have spelled it right."
Trevey: "Do you think that's funny?"
Groth: "That I spelled it wrong? No - I'm a bad speller."
Read the rest of the story here. I picture a stupid, angry Napoleon Dynamite.
Trevey: "Do you know you spelled Satan wrong?"
Groth: "No - I'm not aware of that."
Trevey: "You spelled it satin - like the fabric."
Groth: "See - if I was big into the devil, I would have spelled it right."
Trevey: "Do you think that's funny?"
Groth: "That I spelled it wrong? No - I'm a bad speller."
Read the rest of the story here. I picture a stupid, angry Napoleon Dynamite.
Dog tires of police chase, bites owner - Jun 14, 2006
And here you thought all the good stories from Utah involved polygamy. Nope.
They also involve fleeing felons getting bitten by their own pit bulls.
They also involve fleeing felons getting bitten by their own pit bulls.
Flag Day
Yes, it's Flag Day. Old Glory is waving proudly in front of the compound, and the Gadsden Flag is flying at the back gate. Flag Day marks the anniversary of the official adoption of the Stars and Stripes as our national flag in 1777.
Want to know something else that's cool? Lots of countries gots their own Flag Days! Yes indeed, many peoples of the world other than Americans are also patriotic! Here's just a few that fall in June:
- Flag Day in Sweden: June 6
- Flag Day in the United States: June 14
- Flag Day in Denmark: June 15
- Flag Day in Argentina: June 20 (a national holiday since 1938)
- Flag Day in Romania: June 26 (known locally as Ziua Tricolorului)
-Leaving a flag draped on the side of a building in all weather, for weeks at a time, and not bothering to take the flag out of the rain gutter when it lands there.
-Draping the flag over the hood of a car
-Leaving the flag up at night, unlighted, and in the rain
-Draping the flag with the stars in the upper right corner, not in the upper left corner
-Using the flag for advertising purposes
I could go on. Technically, those 9/11 flags with the skyline of NYC and "9/11" in the blue field are also improper, and I've seen those displayed all over the place, including fire and police departments where people should know better. Disrespect to the flag out of ignorance, by people who claim to be "patriotic" pisses me off way more than the occasional flag-burning or performance art piece by some overpriveleged American leftist. But that's just me.
Happy birthday to me
Things are good.
My backyard is very quiet right now, and it's a beautiful sunny morning. There's a nifty stack of presents sitting on my dining room table, with my name on them. Miz Bubs bought some very nice steaks last night, and some Danish blue cheese to crust them with, so I'm looking forward to an excellent dinner. I talked her and my mom out of taking me out to Shaw's Crab House in favor of us cooking a fun dinner here at home. Plus I can stay in shorts and sandals. Woot!
I originally planned on going for a 4 or 5 mile run first thing to celebrate my 44th birthday, but an unanticipated 5am wakeup and allergy headache postponed that plan. So, instead, after moving the cars out of the driveway and buying donuts for the landscapers, I treated myself to the last slice of apple pie and a rich dark cup of coffee. Back to the backyard: there is no grass, and all the dirt is unnaturally flat. The landscaper came yesterday and tore the evergreen bushes out from the front of the house, and removed all the grass/weeds from the backyard. In about 20 minutes they'll be coming back to lay new sod. Around 9am my friend the side-job-working firefighter, is coming to run electric conduit along the edge of the backyard to where the pond is. I spent day before yesterday digging the trench for it.
As some of you long-time readers may recall, on May 9th I started calling contractors to get estimates for landscaping, a new front porch, driveway repair, and a new or repaired garage door. And on May 30th I got all enthusiastic about the native plants that Miz Bubs ordered for our backyard. Here's where it's at now:
The landscaping work will be done at the end of today, with new sod in the backyard. We're preparing for the challenge of keeping the dogs off it for a few weeks. The pond is finished except for the planting, and the electric will be in by this afternoon. It turns out that most of the plants we ordered aren't available, so Miz Bubs, girl genius, ordered a bunch more after talking with the lady at the nursery and explaining what we were looking for. We'll pick those up and plant them Friday.
Yesterday I hired a brick guy to tear out and replace the front porch. He's coming by this afternoon with samples and plans. Can't get the work done until mid-late July though.
The garage is on hold. It's simple to repair the door, but Miz wants to put in a new automatic door, which is cool except there's no electricity in the garage. And, thanks to the concrete back patio/garage apron, there's no way to run electric there from the house. Unless the entire driveway gets dug up, which brings me to the next point...
Living on a state road makes getting your driveway repaired a pain in the ass. Take a look at this picture. The part of the driveway from the garage out to the sidewalk is old, but I could get away with just having it sealcoated. The apron, from the sidewalk to the street, is a rutted mess and needs to be torn out and replaced. Here's the problem--after talking with 4 different asphalt pavers, no one will only repair the apron. The combination of busy street, and the permits needed from the state in addition to local permits, make it too much of a hassle for a contractor for such a small job. So, I have to get the entire driveway excavated and replaced, in order to get the 60 square feet I really need repaired, done. Now, the upside of this is, once the entire driveway is excavated, there's about a 20 minute window where my friend doing the electric work can put the conduit in to run electric to the garage. I just have to get him to commit to being here on the same day the asphalt guys come. Or show me how to do the conduit part and have him snake the wiring later on. Because I don't mess with electrical stuff. Then we can deal with the garage door issue.
Hey, this blogging stuff is fun, and it cured my headache! The combination of coffee and generic Costco claritin has kicked in, and I'm ready to tackle the day.
My backyard is very quiet right now, and it's a beautiful sunny morning. There's a nifty stack of presents sitting on my dining room table, with my name on them. Miz Bubs bought some very nice steaks last night, and some Danish blue cheese to crust them with, so I'm looking forward to an excellent dinner. I talked her and my mom out of taking me out to Shaw's Crab House in favor of us cooking a fun dinner here at home. Plus I can stay in shorts and sandals. Woot!
I originally planned on going for a 4 or 5 mile run first thing to celebrate my 44th birthday, but an unanticipated 5am wakeup and allergy headache postponed that plan. So, instead, after moving the cars out of the driveway and buying donuts for the landscapers, I treated myself to the last slice of apple pie and a rich dark cup of coffee. Back to the backyard: there is no grass, and all the dirt is unnaturally flat. The landscaper came yesterday and tore the evergreen bushes out from the front of the house, and removed all the grass/weeds from the backyard. In about 20 minutes they'll be coming back to lay new sod. Around 9am my friend the side-job-working firefighter, is coming to run electric conduit along the edge of the backyard to where the pond is. I spent day before yesterday digging the trench for it.
As some of you long-time readers may recall, on May 9th I started calling contractors to get estimates for landscaping, a new front porch, driveway repair, and a new or repaired garage door. And on May 30th I got all enthusiastic about the native plants that Miz Bubs ordered for our backyard. Here's where it's at now:
The landscaping work will be done at the end of today, with new sod in the backyard. We're preparing for the challenge of keeping the dogs off it for a few weeks. The pond is finished except for the planting, and the electric will be in by this afternoon. It turns out that most of the plants we ordered aren't available, so Miz Bubs, girl genius, ordered a bunch more after talking with the lady at the nursery and explaining what we were looking for. We'll pick those up and plant them Friday.
Yesterday I hired a brick guy to tear out and replace the front porch. He's coming by this afternoon with samples and plans. Can't get the work done until mid-late July though.
The garage is on hold. It's simple to repair the door, but Miz wants to put in a new automatic door, which is cool except there's no electricity in the garage. And, thanks to the concrete back patio/garage apron, there's no way to run electric there from the house. Unless the entire driveway gets dug up, which brings me to the next point...
Living on a state road makes getting your driveway repaired a pain in the ass. Take a look at this picture. The part of the driveway from the garage out to the sidewalk is old, but I could get away with just having it sealcoated. The apron, from the sidewalk to the street, is a rutted mess and needs to be torn out and replaced. Here's the problem--after talking with 4 different asphalt pavers, no one will only repair the apron. The combination of busy street, and the permits needed from the state in addition to local permits, make it too much of a hassle for a contractor for such a small job. So, I have to get the entire driveway excavated and replaced, in order to get the 60 square feet I really need repaired, done. Now, the upside of this is, once the entire driveway is excavated, there's about a 20 minute window where my friend doing the electric work can put the conduit in to run electric to the garage. I just have to get him to commit to being here on the same day the asphalt guys come. Or show me how to do the conduit part and have him snake the wiring later on. Because I don't mess with electrical stuff. Then we can deal with the garage door issue.
Hey, this blogging stuff is fun, and it cured my headache! The combination of coffee and generic Costco claritin has kicked in, and I'm ready to tackle the day.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
NSA Wiretap Reveals Subject May Be Paying Too Much For Long-Distance
FORT MEADE, MD—The director of the National Security Agency announced at a press conference Tuesday that the ongoing phone surveillance of Cincinnati resident Greg Wyckham has yielded "overwhelming and incontrovertible" evidence that the 37-year-old high-school teacher and married father of three is wasting money on a long-distance plan that does not suit his calling needs.
Read the rest of the story here.
God bless The Onion.
Read the rest of the story here.
God bless The Onion.
Reasons to Worry
Believe it or not, I worry about things other than alligator attack, the end of the cheap oil era, carnies and murderous sex change candidates. I also worry about the economic state of our great nation.
In this sobering editorial from the NY Times, Niall Ferguson talks about the potential impact of debt, both national and consumer, on the United States.
In this sobering editorial from the NY Times, Niall Ferguson talks about the potential impact of debt, both national and consumer, on the United States.
Great news for boozehounds
As if I needed another reason to love my coffee: every rich dark cup you drink strikes another blow in the battle against cirrhosis!
Monday, June 12, 2006
Scientists figure out how honeybees fly - LiveScience - MSNBC.com
Scientists figure out how honeybees fly - LiveScience - MSNBC.com
Now, finally, we can get scientists working on designs for giant robotic bees.
Now, finally, we can get scientists working on designs for giant robotic bees.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
ALLIGATORS DECLARE WAR ON HUMANKIND
That's right folks. The Compound is now on a war footing. The generators are primed, the shotguns loaded and I've got a freezer full of pig lungs ready to lure the reptilian bastards to an early grave. From now on, it's all alligator stories, all the time.
An off-duty deputy strikes the first blow for humankind.
Pity the foolish do-gooder who shows compassion to these reptilian monsters.
City officials in Oregon crack down on alligator fifth column.
Alligator mastermind dies in captivity.
First there was alarming news from Africa that crocs and hippos were coordinating their attacks. Now it appears that some treacherous dogs are turning on their human sponsors and also working with the alligators.
An off-duty deputy strikes the first blow for humankind.
Pity the foolish do-gooder who shows compassion to these reptilian monsters.
City officials in Oregon crack down on alligator fifth column.
Alligator mastermind dies in captivity.
First there was alarming news from Africa that crocs and hippos were coordinating their attacks. Now it appears that some treacherous dogs are turning on their human sponsors and also working with the alligators.
Aw for the love of GOD, who will stop the alligators?
Or, for that matter, who will stop people who are stupid enough to go snorkeling in an alligator-infested canal?
Michael "Gatorhead" Diaz has now learned the hard lesson: nature hates us.
Michael "Gatorhead" Diaz has now learned the hard lesson: nature hates us.
Failed gator control program
A program to extract killer alligators from southern Florida and sell them off to travelling Asian sideshows came to an abrupt end this week, following a horrible accident
Freak News
A few weeks ago I amused myself for a while by googling the word "freak" and looking at news items that came up. It's Saturday morning, I'm sitting here while Miz Bubs and our eldest finish the movie Kalifornia (everyone was too sleepy last night) and I'm looking through the freak news again.
I noticed something this time. When "freak" is used in a news headline, it almost inevitably refers to an accident, a death or weather. I was hoping that at least a few times it would refer to real freaks, you know, like the circus sideshow kind. Oh well. Here's some stories from today's freak news:
Moose Jaw softball player "Baseball Bob" died following a freak softball game accident.
This Washington Post editorial advises Democrats not to be control freaks.
Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke makes the markets freak.
Freak weather system causes heavy rain in New England.
A freak polio outbreak drives Brangelina out of Namibia.
Finally! A story uses the phrase freak show--to describe drug use by baseball players. No tattoos, human blockheads or little people. Dang it.
Two workmen die in a freak power cable accident.
A deer versus county truck freak accident.
Canada contributes again, with two kids falling victim to freak accidents in Toronto.
If you think you might be succeptible to freak accident-related death, stay out of Canada. These two Australians died in a freak ski resort accident.
One dead in freak bicycle accident.
OK, NetFlix fans: get your Net Flix Freak on.
Sporting news from the Sunday Mirror: MY PETE'S NO FREAK. We're happy for them.
I noticed something this time. When "freak" is used in a news headline, it almost inevitably refers to an accident, a death or weather. I was hoping that at least a few times it would refer to real freaks, you know, like the circus sideshow kind. Oh well. Here's some stories from today's freak news:
Moose Jaw softball player "Baseball Bob" died following a freak softball game accident.
This Washington Post editorial advises Democrats not to be control freaks.
Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke makes the markets freak.
Freak weather system causes heavy rain in New England.
A freak polio outbreak drives Brangelina out of Namibia.
Finally! A story uses the phrase freak show--to describe drug use by baseball players. No tattoos, human blockheads or little people. Dang it.
Two workmen die in a freak power cable accident.
A deer versus county truck freak accident.
Canada contributes again, with two kids falling victim to freak accidents in Toronto.
If you think you might be succeptible to freak accident-related death, stay out of Canada. These two Australians died in a freak ski resort accident.
One dead in freak bicycle accident.
OK, NetFlix fans: get your Net Flix Freak on.
Sporting news from the Sunday Mirror: MY PETE'S NO FREAK. We're happy for them.
I wanna be an airborne ranger
I wanna look like Wile E. Coyote, super genius...
This is the airborne special forces operator of the future, according to this article:
And you may ask youself, well, how did I get here?
And you may ask yourself, how do I work this?
Well worth watching all these years later.
Well worth watching all these years later.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Oh yeah? I double DOG dare ya!
I've always irritated Miz Bubs by telling her that the midwest is a stolid, reliable and somewhat boring region, especially compared to those hot blooded dueling freaks who populate the American south.
I may have to reconsider that position now. Clearly, a region capable of producing a woman who beats someone with a dead chihuahua puppy is a region to be reckoned with.
I may have to reconsider that position now. Clearly, a region capable of producing a woman who beats someone with a dead chihuahua puppy is a region to be reckoned with.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
I have no memory of this
My mom was big fan of the Dinah Shore show, and I remember watching it as a kid. I have no memory whatsoever of this, and that's a damn shame. I mean, come on: Iggy Pop on an afternoon talk show, with David Bowie on keyboard?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOM JONES
I almost went with a TV performance of What's New Pussycat, but decided that was too predictable. Another close call was his f*cking uber-cool version of Prince's Kiss . But no. Instead, we'll all celebrate the birthday of godlike figure Tom Jones (remind me to tell you about how I'm going to start living the Tom Jones lifestyle, but without the talent, on my 60th birthday some time) by watching this:
A brief musical interlude
From the Tom Waits album Blood Money: God's Away on Business
I'm glad I don't live in this world, I only work in it:
I'm glad I don't live in this world, I only work in it:
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Snakes on a Plane
I'm looking forward to this movie:
Snakes on a Plane
How goofy cool a title is that? My daughter can't believe I haven't heard of it already, and says it's proof that Samuel L. Jackson will act in anything. Supposedly he took the job because of the title; when the producers changed the working title to Flight 121, he demanded it be changed back.
You can watch a trailer here
Snakes on a Plane
How goofy cool a title is that? My daughter can't believe I haven't heard of it already, and says it's proof that Samuel L. Jackson will act in anything. Supposedly he took the job because of the title; when the producers changed the working title to Flight 121, he demanded it be changed back.
You can watch a trailer here
The Clinton years in 30 seconds, no bunnies
My friend Bawb the Revelator was recently driven to distraction by a fellow on an email list. Morris' passive-aggressive schtick manages to flip the switch in Bawb's head every once in a while; this tidbit came after Morris' predictable tut-tutting about always supporting the Democrats, no matter what. Bawb responds with a nice little summary of the Clinton years:
Our Tub of Ham Gravy (T.O.H.G.) leads off with Homos in the Military. This locks up the Log Cabin GOP demographic for '96.Next, C. Lani Guinier finds out she's "scratched" for Deputy A.G . for Civil Right by T.O.H.G. from FoxNews after MINORITY GOP Sen. Orrin Harris says: "Deep six her!!" T.O.H.G. nods Presisidentially, distracted by Monica's steady 'come-hither' leer.T.O.H.G. holds up wimp Multi-Payer National Health Card at first State of Union, says: "Y'all will have one of these!" Wild applause follows. Harry and Louise follows, funded by Insurance Industry Petty-Cash fund. "I saw the Bullworth rushes," says T.O.H.G. "He gets killed at the end! Damned if I'll campaign!" ClintonCare crashes, burns.Newtie announces Contract With America, becomes Time Man of Year when GOP takes Congress. "Prez Still Relevant!" sniffs T.O.H.G. "Yowza!" says Monica."TRIANGULATE, you T.O.H.G!" says toe-sucking GOP, Dick Morris. "You got it!" replies T.O.H.G. who then "creams" the Late BobDole with LESS than 50% of the vote.Morris, the above is confusing gibberish to Lemmings. Any lemming! You'll stick with ANY Democrat - especially the T.O.H.G. and Our Own Maggie Thatcher. I don't blame you, BTW. Reflex Motor Arcs are like........well, the Patella Reflex. Besides, it's all meaningless anyway - and I'm a youngster (relatively) who's once again disagreed with you to the point of Psychosis.So I'm moving' off this dreariness. You smoke your Crack Pipe, I'll smoke mine. Oh yeah: the Yankees SUCK!Best,Bawb the Revelator
I never get tired of this
I'm teaching a basic defensive tactics course Tuesday morning, and one of the techniques is something called a "brachial stun." Here's a nice video of it being applied to a pimp:
Monday, June 05, 2006
Whew
So, yesterday (Sunday) I had the day off work, which was good--it was the day of the church picnic, but more important it was the farewell to our pastor and his wife (also a minister.) Two lovely, decent people.
We belong to a small church, an American Baptist congregation, and Rev. Jack has been the pastor for 16 years. Our eldest daughter went to Montessori kindergarten in a space rented by the church, and one day while I was working Miz Bubs took the kids there, back in 93 or 94. She came back and suggested I might like the place. I did, and we've been members of the church since then.
I've struggled with my faith for years, and my sense of worth as a moral human being. Rev Jack and Rev Lynn helped me more than I've ever told them. They move away later this month, and I'm working on a thank you letter. I decided a while ago that, when I have something good to say about someone, I'm going to damn well try and tell them. I'm still working on that.
It was important to be at church Sunday. But, life doesn't hold still for any one person's special moment: Hannah had a birthday party to attend Saturday night, ending at noon Sunday. I had my work hours changed on short notice and worked until 2am Saturday night. Nora had her boyfriend's high school graduation at noon. Miz Bubs had to work at the library at 1pm. SO...Miz Bubs, Nora, Nora's friend and I went to church at 10:30am. At noon, Nora left just as the service was ending to be picked up by her boyfriend's folks. I went and picked up Hannah. Hannah needed to freshen up (God forbid she go straight from a sleepover to a picnic without changing clothes, and she insisted that we never told her about the picnic, which is nonsense) so I got to drive her home and then back to church. I got to wolf down some food and briefly say hi to Miz Bubs before she left for work. Whew.
As it turns out, I wasn't the only one who got all teary during the service. Miz Bubs used to babysit the minister's daughter, for a few years, since she was just a year older than Hannah. They were like sisters, but then they had a falling out a few years ago and don't speak now. Well, when Miz talked to her after church, she started crying (the girl, not Miz...yet) and both my daughters were too choked up to say "goodbye" to Jack or Lynn. I ran into the girls former piano teacher, who moved back to Wisconsin to care for two parents with terminal cancer. I had at least 5 conversations with other parents who all remarked how much all our children had grown. Rev Lynn always did a children's time during the service, and this was the last one--seeing all those kids up there, and all the changes that they represented, and seeing Jack and Lynn leaving, was too much for all of us.
We had fallen away from regular church attendance a few years ago, and had just been making an effort to attend during the past year. We were in the process of reconnecting with our church, and I've been experiencing some kind of reawakening of my own faith that began with my trip to New Orleans during the aftermath of Katrina. I know something in me has changed, profoundly, but I'm not sure what it is yet or where it will push me. My daughters, who had both fallen away from church attendance, were also coming around. The ministry of Jack and Lynn was a big part of those positive changes, and we all feel...I don't know...so sad, that just as we were coming back, they're leaving. One thing I noticed though, was all the people at the picnic talking, and people reaching out to each other, our ties to one another becoming tangibly stronger even as we stood around clutching our paper plates and cups. I think Jack and Lynn should be very, very proud of their work in building our faith community.
Nora summed up her experience of the day when I picked her up later that afternoon. She said that, between the departure of Jack and Lynn, who've known her for 13 years, and the graduation of her boyfriend, her childhood is over.
Later that afternoon, after we all got home, we went to visit Miz Bubs' niece (they're more like cousins, they're only a few years apart) and husband. When we got their, my bride's oldest brother was there too, which was a wonderful surprise. I talk to my brothers a couple times a week, and to my mom nearly every day, so I take communication for granted. Miz Bubs comes from a family that is, to put it mildly, challenged in the ability to stay in contact with each other. Not that they don't like each other, they love each other deeply, and on a level that needs no words. Which is a good thing, because they don't talk to each other. They can go months without so much as a phone call. But I sense now that even that is changing. It seems like even Miz Bubs' family is reaching out and wanting to make that vital connection to each other.
We finally got home around 9:30, exhausted. We talked about church and life and growing up all the way home in the car.
There is so much coming down the road. I know most of it's good, and even the stuff that's hard will be good in the long run. But it feels really odd, almost to the point of light-headedness, to contemplate all the changes that are in store for us, and all those changes that have already passed.
We belong to a small church, an American Baptist congregation, and Rev. Jack has been the pastor for 16 years. Our eldest daughter went to Montessori kindergarten in a space rented by the church, and one day while I was working Miz Bubs took the kids there, back in 93 or 94. She came back and suggested I might like the place. I did, and we've been members of the church since then.
I've struggled with my faith for years, and my sense of worth as a moral human being. Rev Jack and Rev Lynn helped me more than I've ever told them. They move away later this month, and I'm working on a thank you letter. I decided a while ago that, when I have something good to say about someone, I'm going to damn well try and tell them. I'm still working on that.
It was important to be at church Sunday. But, life doesn't hold still for any one person's special moment: Hannah had a birthday party to attend Saturday night, ending at noon Sunday. I had my work hours changed on short notice and worked until 2am Saturday night. Nora had her boyfriend's high school graduation at noon. Miz Bubs had to work at the library at 1pm. SO...Miz Bubs, Nora, Nora's friend and I went to church at 10:30am. At noon, Nora left just as the service was ending to be picked up by her boyfriend's folks. I went and picked up Hannah. Hannah needed to freshen up (God forbid she go straight from a sleepover to a picnic without changing clothes, and she insisted that we never told her about the picnic, which is nonsense) so I got to drive her home and then back to church. I got to wolf down some food and briefly say hi to Miz Bubs before she left for work. Whew.
As it turns out, I wasn't the only one who got all teary during the service. Miz Bubs used to babysit the minister's daughter, for a few years, since she was just a year older than Hannah. They were like sisters, but then they had a falling out a few years ago and don't speak now. Well, when Miz talked to her after church, she started crying (the girl, not Miz...yet) and both my daughters were too choked up to say "goodbye" to Jack or Lynn. I ran into the girls former piano teacher, who moved back to Wisconsin to care for two parents with terminal cancer. I had at least 5 conversations with other parents who all remarked how much all our children had grown. Rev Lynn always did a children's time during the service, and this was the last one--seeing all those kids up there, and all the changes that they represented, and seeing Jack and Lynn leaving, was too much for all of us.
We had fallen away from regular church attendance a few years ago, and had just been making an effort to attend during the past year. We were in the process of reconnecting with our church, and I've been experiencing some kind of reawakening of my own faith that began with my trip to New Orleans during the aftermath of Katrina. I know something in me has changed, profoundly, but I'm not sure what it is yet or where it will push me. My daughters, who had both fallen away from church attendance, were also coming around. The ministry of Jack and Lynn was a big part of those positive changes, and we all feel...I don't know...so sad, that just as we were coming back, they're leaving. One thing I noticed though, was all the people at the picnic talking, and people reaching out to each other, our ties to one another becoming tangibly stronger even as we stood around clutching our paper plates and cups. I think Jack and Lynn should be very, very proud of their work in building our faith community.
Nora summed up her experience of the day when I picked her up later that afternoon. She said that, between the departure of Jack and Lynn, who've known her for 13 years, and the graduation of her boyfriend, her childhood is over.
Later that afternoon, after we all got home, we went to visit Miz Bubs' niece (they're more like cousins, they're only a few years apart) and husband. When we got their, my bride's oldest brother was there too, which was a wonderful surprise. I talk to my brothers a couple times a week, and to my mom nearly every day, so I take communication for granted. Miz Bubs comes from a family that is, to put it mildly, challenged in the ability to stay in contact with each other. Not that they don't like each other, they love each other deeply, and on a level that needs no words. Which is a good thing, because they don't talk to each other. They can go months without so much as a phone call. But I sense now that even that is changing. It seems like even Miz Bubs' family is reaching out and wanting to make that vital connection to each other.
We finally got home around 9:30, exhausted. We talked about church and life and growing up all the way home in the car.
There is so much coming down the road. I know most of it's good, and even the stuff that's hard will be good in the long run. But it feels really odd, almost to the point of light-headedness, to contemplate all the changes that are in store for us, and all those changes that have already passed.
Time
Time
--Tom Waits, from the album Rain Dogs
--Tom Waits, from the album Rain Dogs
Well the smart money's on Harlow and the moon is in the street
And the shadow boys are breaking all the laws
And you're east of East Saint Louis and the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause
And Napoleon is weeping in a carnival saloon
His invisible fiancee's in the mirror
And the band is going home, it's raining hammers, it's raining nails
And it's true there's nothing left for him down here
And it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time
And they all pretend they're orphans and their memory's like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
And the things you can't remember tell the things you can't forget
That history puts a saint in every dream
Well she said she'd stick around until the bandages came off
But these mama's boys just don't know when to quit
And Mathilda asks the sailors "Are those dreams or are those prayers?"
So close your eyes, son, and this won't hurt a bit
Oh it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time
Well things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars and splash into the street
And when they're on a roll she pulls a razor from her boot
And a thousand pigeons fall around her feet
So put a candle in the window and a kiss upon his lips
As the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
And pay the fiddler off 'til I come back again
Oh it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time
And it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time
I'll try and write something soon to explain why I put these lyrics up here.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Drinking and baking
OK...it's 2:30 in the morning, and I've just gotten home from work. And I've got a couple beers in me, and there's more in the fridge. Pabst Blue Ribbon, baby. And in a little less than 6 hours I need to be awake for church, and the annual church picnic, which is also the farewell to our pastor. So, of course, the thing to do is start baking.
I've always had good results drinking and baking. I love that loose feeling a few beers gives me when I'm whippin that batter. Woot. I've got a batch of brownies in, they'll be done in about 30 minutes. I used to use the recipe in the Silver Palate cookbook, but now I prefer the one-bowl recipe on the Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate box. No pecans or walnuts, like I usually make them. I want them nice and accessible for the church crowd, particularly the kids. I don't understand why people don't like nuts in their food, but I'm learning to deal with it.
When I get up I'll make some bacon. Not for breakfast, for the chopped salad we're making: lettuce, tomato, green onion, roasted pecans, bacon and blue cheese tossed with a balsamic viniagrette dressing. That's going to the picnic too. We were too careless and unfocused to actually bother signing up for the picnic, so I'm not sure what we need to bring. We'll hedge our bets with a side dish and a dessert. But I am putting nuts in the salad.
Did you know that Pabst also brews many other fine beers, such as Lone Star, Schlitz, Schafer, Blatz, Old Style and Carlings Black Label?
I spent the night as part of a "street crime suppression" task force. We roamed around and made a couple arrests, and ended our night in this big crappy apartment complex where I broke my leg 12 years ago chasing a crackhead. Some of our team checked out a car when a passenger jumped out and started walking, quickly, just as the PO-leese car pulled up. The three girls in the car, 15 and 16 years old, are from my town and go to my kid's high school. I'm sure their parents must be very proud of them. We got them before they bought the drugs they were undoubtedly there for, so they drove off disappointed.
I can't wait to see my girls in the morning and tell them I love them.
I've always had good results drinking and baking. I love that loose feeling a few beers gives me when I'm whippin that batter. Woot. I've got a batch of brownies in, they'll be done in about 30 minutes. I used to use the recipe in the Silver Palate cookbook, but now I prefer the one-bowl recipe on the Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate box. No pecans or walnuts, like I usually make them. I want them nice and accessible for the church crowd, particularly the kids. I don't understand why people don't like nuts in their food, but I'm learning to deal with it.
When I get up I'll make some bacon. Not for breakfast, for the chopped salad we're making: lettuce, tomato, green onion, roasted pecans, bacon and blue cheese tossed with a balsamic viniagrette dressing. That's going to the picnic too. We were too careless and unfocused to actually bother signing up for the picnic, so I'm not sure what we need to bring. We'll hedge our bets with a side dish and a dessert. But I am putting nuts in the salad.
Did you know that Pabst also brews many other fine beers, such as Lone Star, Schlitz, Schafer, Blatz, Old Style and Carlings Black Label?
I spent the night as part of a "street crime suppression" task force. We roamed around and made a couple arrests, and ended our night in this big crappy apartment complex where I broke my leg 12 years ago chasing a crackhead. Some of our team checked out a car when a passenger jumped out and started walking, quickly, just as the PO-leese car pulled up. The three girls in the car, 15 and 16 years old, are from my town and go to my kid's high school. I'm sure their parents must be very proud of them. We got them before they bought the drugs they were undoubtedly there for, so they drove off disappointed.
I can't wait to see my girls in the morning and tell them I love them.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Sons of Lee Marvin
Again, one of the things I love most about the internet--other than wasting time at work, gambling, shopping, travel planning, Bettie Page and naked ladies--is the totally random and accidental way you can find the coolest stuff.
My Screaming Jay Hawkins moment a few days ago led me to stumble onto the existence of a secret society, which, like the Rosicrucians, Freemasons, or the Illuminati, operates in the the gray areas of rumor and conspiracy. Unlike the Rosicrucians or Illuminati, however, these Sons of Lee Marvin had escaped my notice. Until now:
The Sons of Lee Marvin
Jarmusch is the founder of The Sons of Lee Marvin, a humorous 'semi-secret society'. Members of the society reportedly include musician Tom Waits and actor John Lurie, both of whom have worked with Jarmusch on several occasions. Richard Bose, Nick Cave, Iggy Pop (who has also worked with Jarmusch), Thurston Moore, Mickey Rooney and Neil Young are also rumored to be members.
Entry criteria for the club is that the person must have some physical resemblance or plausibly look like a son of the actor Lee Marvin — as such, women are not allowed to join. Most current members also share what seems to be a beat mentality in that they represent and express the lives of the down and out.
The club supposedly meets occasionally to watch Lee Marvin movies together. Its members perpetuate the joke in the media.
The real son of Lee Marvin objected to the existence of the organization when he encountered Waits in a bar.[1]
- "I'm not at liberty to divulge information about the organization, other than to tell you that it does exist. I can identify three other members of the organization: Tom Waits, John Lurie, and Richard Bose. You have to have a facial structure such that you could be related to, or be a son of, Lee Marvin. There are no women, obviously, in the organization. We have communiques and secret meetings. Other than that, I can't talk about it."
- —Jim Jarmusch: Interview: Vol. XIX - No. 11, 1989: pp 146-150.
All I can say is, f*ck that Rat Pack. I wish I was a Son of Lee Marvin.
I like this guy
I've always said that a life without obsessions could hardly be a life worth living. And this man's obsession is espresso. The man calling himself nyc espresso curmudgeon doesn't say a lot in his profile, but based on what I've seen he's welcome at the compound any time.
You might want to start with this account of his trip to Washington, DC.
You might want to start with this account of his trip to Washington, DC.
Small Victories
A few weeks ago I finished reading Dereliction of Duty: Johnson, McNamara, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Lies That Led to Vietnam. The book demolishes the myth that generals knew how to win the war in Vietnam, but were thwarted by politicians. Instead, McMaster shows that the Joint Chiefs of Staff put career advancement, political considerations and narrow service branch concerns ahead of their responsibility to offer real military advice.
It's written by a fellow named H.R. McMaster, who at the time of writing (1998) was a major in the US Army. The book got mentioned a few times last month, during the hubbub over retired generals criticizing Rumsfeld. Somewhere I'd read that McMaster was now a command officer serving in Iraq, and I wondered what he'd make of that experpience.
Now, thanks to my friend Bawb the Revelator, I have a link to the New Yorker that details "what Americans have learned about battling the insurgency in Iraq, and whether those lessons have come too late." The narration is accompanied by a slideshow, and it prominently features Colonel McMaster, who appears to be doing a fine job.
It's written by a fellow named H.R. McMaster, who at the time of writing (1998) was a major in the US Army. The book got mentioned a few times last month, during the hubbub over retired generals criticizing Rumsfeld. Somewhere I'd read that McMaster was now a command officer serving in Iraq, and I wondered what he'd make of that experpience.
Now, thanks to my friend Bawb the Revelator, I have a link to the New Yorker that details "what Americans have learned about battling the insurgency in Iraq, and whether those lessons have come too late." The narration is accompanied by a slideshow, and it prominently features Colonel McMaster, who appears to be doing a fine job.
Friday, June 02, 2006
I can't believe this has never happened to me
This woman was praying in her kitchen and she got struck by lightning. I'm relieved it doesn't happen to me every time I walk through the doors of a church.
I put a spell on you
I love the Internet. The idea that, late at night, I can just look around for random stuff that pops into my head. Like Screaming Jay Hawkins.
WATCH OUT!!
WATCH OUT!!
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Tax dollars at work
Robert Kosilek has been serving a life sentence in prison since 1990, after being convicted of strangling his wife. Now going by the name "Michelle" he's suing the Massachussets Department of Correction for the 2nd time, trying to get the state to pay for a sex change operation.
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