Derby Week
I love the Kentucky Derby. Ain't nuthin' like it. It's like... NASCAR with horses. For those of you unaware... get used to hearing the name "Bellamy Road". 2 reasons...
1) He's owned by George Steinbrenner
2) He's Fast.
Real fast. The three-year-old won his last two races by 15 and 17 lengths. These weren't dogs he was against either. That second one was the Wood Memorial. Smoke people. Smoke with 4 legs.
How's his heart though? He lead wire to wire in the Wood. He showed some fight when challenged at the first turn... but nobody had anything for him when he kicked just before the 4th.
Don't fret over distance on this bad boy either. If the Wood had another furlong or so, he'd have won by 20 lengths or more.
I don't have much doubt he'll be the favorite... and he may just be one of the few favorites that actually wins this deal. But don't go throwin' money around yet... It's a long week, and its a big field, with some big horses.
There's gonna be 20 in the gate when they open, and in a field that size, with so many good horses... well... it's gonna be a war. Might be the best derby in a decade.
We'll be talkin' about the rest of the field too... I just figured I'd start at the top. I don't want y'all to think I'm a bandwagon feller. So just remember... when everyone else jumps on the Bellamy Road... Ya read about him here first.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Soccer Players are Fags
Don't say I didn't tell you. If this doesn't prove it, I don't know what will. I didn't read the article... I just read the headline on Drudge... then read the first few lines where the little queener talks about moisterizer and God knows what else.
I don't care how pretty his wife is. I don't care how pretty his girlfriend is. Any man that spends that much time frettin' over his appearence is bound to take it in the keister.
Lets face it... on the "Do you speak Fag" test... the very first question is probably something like, "Have you ever had a facial?"
Don't say I didn't tell you. If this doesn't prove it, I don't know what will. I didn't read the article... I just read the headline on Drudge... then read the first few lines where the little queener talks about moisterizer and God knows what else.
I don't care how pretty his wife is. I don't care how pretty his girlfriend is. Any man that spends that much time frettin' over his appearence is bound to take it in the keister.
Lets face it... on the "Do you speak Fag" test... the very first question is probably something like, "Have you ever had a facial?"
Friday, April 29, 2005
ATF
Well... I find myself at our secret lair in Murfreesboro. Headquarters for, and starting point of most of the trouble/adventures that my brothers and I get into.
That my friends is always a good thing.
Now lets start with the smokes... which I'm sad to say I have none of right now. Why you ask? Well... for one... My Worthless Brother (MWB) A.K.A. "Welldigger" has no humidor. By "no humidor" I don't mean he has a small humidor... or a travel humidor... or a humidor that barely functions... I mean none. Ziltch. Nada.
I have a humidor... JAC has a humidor... Digger however... the one who really needs the humidor... is without.
This puts us in quite a spot. See... When we come to the Murfreesboro HQ we tend to stay a while... so in the area of smokes... we either have to come empty handed... or have some means of storing a proper stash after the trip.
Digger don't have a humidor though... so we have no where to store anything. We're screwed. Continually we find ourselves thinking... "Man.. I'd like a good smoke."
Then we look at our watches and realize that the only Tobaccoist within a half-hour closed an hour ago. Then it's off to walgreens to buy some cheap crap to feed the fix until the next day.
See why Digger needs a humidor? We could just walk inside... open it up... make our choice... and enjoy our smoke.
If it sounds like I'm throwin' Digger under the bus here... It's because I am.
Every decent man should own a humidor, and ladies... You should know that if your husband doesn't smoke, and doesn't have a humidor, it's not necessarily a poor reflexion on you... but I will point out that it usually is.
More often than not, when a man doesn't smoke its either because of inferior genes, or because some woman somewhere told him he shouldn't. This is sorta like the way that a man in unkept, dirty, or ragged clothes is more a reflexion on his wife, than himself.
hehehe... boy that's gonna piss off some girls.
Anyway... I've harassed Digger, who by the way does not have a humidor, and now I've needled the ladies too... I better quit while I'm ahead.
I do believe this evenin' I'm gonna slip off to the cigar bar for a smoke and a sip o' Makers. How 'bout you?
Well... I find myself at our secret lair in Murfreesboro. Headquarters for, and starting point of most of the trouble/adventures that my brothers and I get into.
That my friends is always a good thing.
Now lets start with the smokes... which I'm sad to say I have none of right now. Why you ask? Well... for one... My Worthless Brother (MWB) A.K.A. "Welldigger" has no humidor. By "no humidor" I don't mean he has a small humidor... or a travel humidor... or a humidor that barely functions... I mean none. Ziltch. Nada.
I have a humidor... JAC has a humidor... Digger however... the one who really needs the humidor... is without.
This puts us in quite a spot. See... When we come to the Murfreesboro HQ we tend to stay a while... so in the area of smokes... we either have to come empty handed... or have some means of storing a proper stash after the trip.
Digger don't have a humidor though... so we have no where to store anything. We're screwed. Continually we find ourselves thinking... "Man.. I'd like a good smoke."
Then we look at our watches and realize that the only Tobaccoist within a half-hour closed an hour ago. Then it's off to walgreens to buy some cheap crap to feed the fix until the next day.
See why Digger needs a humidor? We could just walk inside... open it up... make our choice... and enjoy our smoke.
If it sounds like I'm throwin' Digger under the bus here... It's because I am.
Every decent man should own a humidor, and ladies... You should know that if your husband doesn't smoke, and doesn't have a humidor, it's not necessarily a poor reflexion on you... but I will point out that it usually is.
More often than not, when a man doesn't smoke its either because of inferior genes, or because some woman somewhere told him he shouldn't. This is sorta like the way that a man in unkept, dirty, or ragged clothes is more a reflexion on his wife, than himself.
hehehe... boy that's gonna piss off some girls.
Anyway... I've harassed Digger, who by the way does not have a humidor, and now I've needled the ladies too... I better quit while I'm ahead.
I do believe this evenin' I'm gonna slip off to the cigar bar for a smoke and a sip o' Makers. How 'bout you?
Ohio Sucks
Do you realize that in Ohio, if any member of your immediate family is convicted of drunk driving, then all members of the family must have a special yellow license plate on their cars? Think about that. You have 1 decent mixed drink... get pulled over on a "random" stop, and blow .09 (this is entirely possible) you have not even the slightest buzz... nor were you driving erraticly at all... but still... .09 is greater than .08, and therefore... You were legally drunk. Now your wife, and your 16 year old daughter have to have yellow license plates on their cars. Everyone at your daughters highschool... everyone at your wife's place of employment... everyone... will assume those two women are the killers of some innocent daughter of a M.A.D.D. mom.
Exactly the sort of thing we should expect from a bunch of moron yankees who fought and died to give a bunch of politicians in Washington the authority to boss them around.
There is probably a more deplorable state in the union than Ohio... and there are probably those slightly more useless than Buckeyes... but I can't think of either.
Do you realize that in Ohio, if any member of your immediate family is convicted of drunk driving, then all members of the family must have a special yellow license plate on their cars? Think about that. You have 1 decent mixed drink... get pulled over on a "random" stop, and blow .09 (this is entirely possible) you have not even the slightest buzz... nor were you driving erraticly at all... but still... .09 is greater than .08, and therefore... You were legally drunk. Now your wife, and your 16 year old daughter have to have yellow license plates on their cars. Everyone at your daughters highschool... everyone at your wife's place of employment... everyone... will assume those two women are the killers of some innocent daughter of a M.A.D.D. mom.
Exactly the sort of thing we should expect from a bunch of moron yankees who fought and died to give a bunch of politicians in Washington the authority to boss them around.
There is probably a more deplorable state in the union than Ohio... and there are probably those slightly more useless than Buckeyes... but I can't think of either.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Unqualified Endorsement
It seems the most effective means of combating spy-ware, spam, and the various other bane's of the internet would be to simply make public the names of several of the bastards who curse us with their creation.
Would anyone defend these people? I dare say even the ACLU would have a few members in the lynch mob. I figure a public scourging, followed by a salt rub, and a lemon-juice bath should probably do the trick.
Until that fine day...
Microsoft is apparently well on the way to dealing with the matter itself. Program after program has been released boasting and puffing about being the best. In the end though... Who knows more about Windows than Microsoft?
There were some particularly evil examples of spy-ware on Julie's laptop, and I had tried everything. Well... everything but Norton's. Norton's is the devil. I'd rather have the spy-ware thanks.
Avast, Mcaffee's, Defender Pro, Ad-Aware, Spy-bot and several others all failed miserably. Sure... they got off the easy stuff. But they couldn't touch the big dogs.
Then Kristy's boy Dave loaded up the beta of Microsoft's antispy. ***POOF*** clean computer.
Not only did it remove the particularly nasty spy-ware that Spy-bot couldn't, it found several that they didn't even know where there, and removed them to. Lots of them tried to reinstall while they were being deleted, or on the reboot, and each and every time the anti-spy slapped them down.
If you run windows, get this, run it, and leave it running. Think of it as Kevlar for your PC.
It seems the most effective means of combating spy-ware, spam, and the various other bane's of the internet would be to simply make public the names of several of the bastards who curse us with their creation.
Would anyone defend these people? I dare say even the ACLU would have a few members in the lynch mob. I figure a public scourging, followed by a salt rub, and a lemon-juice bath should probably do the trick.
Until that fine day...
Microsoft is apparently well on the way to dealing with the matter itself. Program after program has been released boasting and puffing about being the best. In the end though... Who knows more about Windows than Microsoft?
There were some particularly evil examples of spy-ware on Julie's laptop, and I had tried everything. Well... everything but Norton's. Norton's is the devil. I'd rather have the spy-ware thanks.
Avast, Mcaffee's, Defender Pro, Ad-Aware, Spy-bot and several others all failed miserably. Sure... they got off the easy stuff. But they couldn't touch the big dogs.
Then Kristy's boy Dave loaded up the beta of Microsoft's antispy. ***POOF*** clean computer.
Not only did it remove the particularly nasty spy-ware that Spy-bot couldn't, it found several that they didn't even know where there, and removed them to. Lots of them tried to reinstall while they were being deleted, or on the reboot, and each and every time the anti-spy slapped them down.
If you run windows, get this, run it, and leave it running. Think of it as Kevlar for your PC.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Protecting the Peace vs. Enforcing the Law
If you don't put any thought into it... there doesn't seem to be much of a difference here. You could well make the mistake of calling it splitting hairs.
It's not.
The critical difference is the goal. The goal of a peace officer is for his town to run smoothly, without folks complainin' to much about each other. The goal of the law enforcement officer is to make sure that the public does as it's told.
Law enforcement officers are there to see that the letter of the law is followed, and perhaps the spirit too. Peace Officers are there to hang around and break up fights... make sure violence doesn't erupt without good cause.
For example... A peace officer really doen't give a crap if you're wearing a seatbelt or not. You ain't hurtin' anyone, and you ain't stirin' up a ruckus. A law enforcement officer most certainly does mind. If you're drivin' down an empty stretch of I-40 at 4am at 100mph, a peace officer really doesn't care. You ain't botherin' nobody but the deer. But an LE? He'll take you to jail for that.
LE's worry about the size of the tank on the back of your toilet. PO's worry about very little... least of which is what some politician 300 miles away thinks.
40 years ago we had Peace Officers. We traded them for the "security" offered by Law Enforcement. Freedom loving people around the country lament that fact every day.
If you don't put any thought into it... there doesn't seem to be much of a difference here. You could well make the mistake of calling it splitting hairs.
It's not.
The critical difference is the goal. The goal of a peace officer is for his town to run smoothly, without folks complainin' to much about each other. The goal of the law enforcement officer is to make sure that the public does as it's told.
Law enforcement officers are there to see that the letter of the law is followed, and perhaps the spirit too. Peace Officers are there to hang around and break up fights... make sure violence doesn't erupt without good cause.
For example... A peace officer really doen't give a crap if you're wearing a seatbelt or not. You ain't hurtin' anyone, and you ain't stirin' up a ruckus. A law enforcement officer most certainly does mind. If you're drivin' down an empty stretch of I-40 at 4am at 100mph, a peace officer really doesn't care. You ain't botherin' nobody but the deer. But an LE? He'll take you to jail for that.
LE's worry about the size of the tank on the back of your toilet. PO's worry about very little... least of which is what some politician 300 miles away thinks.
40 years ago we had Peace Officers. We traded them for the "security" offered by Law Enforcement. Freedom loving people around the country lament that fact every day.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Screw M.A.D.D.
In the interest of full disclosure let me first point out that I have never at any time been arrested for, much less convicted of, drunk driving... or any drug offense for that matter. Hopefully this should prevent the Great Collapseing Hrung of emails labasting me as a derelect convict filled with fuming sour grapes.
On second thought... That's probly to much to hope for...
Let me be clear on this. I want to leave no room for wiggling and squirming. Few lobbies this side of Handgun Control have more demonstratably outlived their usefullness like Mothers Against Drunk Driving.
They exist for the sole purpose of, and indeed measure their success by, achieving ever lower standards for the legal limit of B.A.C. (Blood Alchohol Concentration) when operating a vehicle.
If B.A.C. were actually an accurate representation of ones impairment, their cause would at least have some modicrum of merit. Of course... It isn't. The fact is, B.A.C. ignores tolerence, which is really like trying to calculate force without bothering to take acceleration into account.
Medical textbooks will teach you that a B.A.C. of .40 is the LD 50. Meaning its the leathal dose for 50% of the population. That's all good and well... but what they don't tell you is that folks are out there who can blow .6 and show no other symptoms of even being drunk.
We call that tolerence.
For centuries we've known the what makes you passed out, piss in your shoes drunk, won't even give me a decent buzz. Apparently however, to M.A.D.D. this is news.
I understand why B.A.C. is used. After all... its an attempt to enter some small amount of objectivity into this sordid affair. Unfortunately, tolerence pretty much throws objectivity out the window.
We pull out a random number.. say... .1, and we say... if you have a B.A.C. of that... then you can't drive. This of course ignores the fact that many many many people can function just fine at that level. Not to mention that... but at that level, indeed they don't feel drunk at all. Thats that tolerence stuff again.
So how are you supposed to know not to drive if you don't even feel drunk? Now this is exasperated by M.A.D.D. 's never ending quest to lower the afore mentioned randomly chosen number.
See where we're going? How far off is Zero Tolerence?
From another angle...
We have created an excellent source of revenue for the government. Ever considered what percent of the populus has been arrested and convicted for DUI at least 1 time? It's huge. All those fines... millions of dollars in fines... to spend on? Oh sure... it has to be spent on roads... but umm.. more money for the roads frees up more money for Senator Moron's pet project right?
There is an emotional stigma that goes with the crime... which of course is directly associated with all the horror stories M.A.D.D. pounds us over the head with... you know... So and So's daughter was killed by a drunk driver... blah blah...
What about all those daughters that are killed by Sober Drivers?
Somebody want to tell me how we know the booze made all these people bad drivers? Cause I see plenty of people who can't drive worth a damn while they're stone cold sober.
The plain truth is, DUI is a revenue source for the State, and an emotional outlet for mothers who need one. The State collects millions in this type of fine each year... if not month. Therefore the state has a vested interest in seeing the behavior continue. Same with the drug war.
No civilized society benefits from punishment of criminals. It gives them to much of a reason to create them.
In the interest of full disclosure let me first point out that I have never at any time been arrested for, much less convicted of, drunk driving... or any drug offense for that matter. Hopefully this should prevent the Great Collapseing Hrung of emails labasting me as a derelect convict filled with fuming sour grapes.
On second thought... That's probly to much to hope for...
Let me be clear on this. I want to leave no room for wiggling and squirming. Few lobbies this side of Handgun Control have more demonstratably outlived their usefullness like Mothers Against Drunk Driving.
They exist for the sole purpose of, and indeed measure their success by, achieving ever lower standards for the legal limit of B.A.C. (Blood Alchohol Concentration) when operating a vehicle.
If B.A.C. were actually an accurate representation of ones impairment, their cause would at least have some modicrum of merit. Of course... It isn't. The fact is, B.A.C. ignores tolerence, which is really like trying to calculate force without bothering to take acceleration into account.
Medical textbooks will teach you that a B.A.C. of .40 is the LD 50. Meaning its the leathal dose for 50% of the population. That's all good and well... but what they don't tell you is that folks are out there who can blow .6 and show no other symptoms of even being drunk.
We call that tolerence.
For centuries we've known the what makes you passed out, piss in your shoes drunk, won't even give me a decent buzz. Apparently however, to M.A.D.D. this is news.
I understand why B.A.C. is used. After all... its an attempt to enter some small amount of objectivity into this sordid affair. Unfortunately, tolerence pretty much throws objectivity out the window.
We pull out a random number.. say... .1, and we say... if you have a B.A.C. of that... then you can't drive. This of course ignores the fact that many many many people can function just fine at that level. Not to mention that... but at that level, indeed they don't feel drunk at all. Thats that tolerence stuff again.
So how are you supposed to know not to drive if you don't even feel drunk? Now this is exasperated by M.A.D.D. 's never ending quest to lower the afore mentioned randomly chosen number.
See where we're going? How far off is Zero Tolerence?
From another angle...
We have created an excellent source of revenue for the government. Ever considered what percent of the populus has been arrested and convicted for DUI at least 1 time? It's huge. All those fines... millions of dollars in fines... to spend on? Oh sure... it has to be spent on roads... but umm.. more money for the roads frees up more money for Senator Moron's pet project right?
There is an emotional stigma that goes with the crime... which of course is directly associated with all the horror stories M.A.D.D. pounds us over the head with... you know... So and So's daughter was killed by a drunk driver... blah blah...
What about all those daughters that are killed by Sober Drivers?
Somebody want to tell me how we know the booze made all these people bad drivers? Cause I see plenty of people who can't drive worth a damn while they're stone cold sober.
The plain truth is, DUI is a revenue source for the State, and an emotional outlet for mothers who need one. The State collects millions in this type of fine each year... if not month. Therefore the state has a vested interest in seeing the behavior continue. Same with the drug war.
No civilized society benefits from punishment of criminals. It gives them to much of a reason to create them.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Friday, April 22, 2005
ATF
My apologies. I realize the post is late. No doubt Jamie's already in the bed. Short timer. Alas, I've spent the evening with fine friends, fine whiskey, and fine tobacco. It's a tough life I tell ya.
Kristy and her soon-to-be-husband Dave are up hangin' out with us... so I kicked the evenin' off right with some mostly raw, yet slightly warm ribeyes and some fresh fried green beans. Plenty of bacon grease... Plenty of butter.
After the meal it was off to the front porch swing to watch the rain, sip the 1792 and smoke a couple Excalibers. King Arther if you're keepin' score. Again... Life is hard.
Kristy and Dave even spotted me a new bottle of 1792. God Bless 'em.
Any of you folks into Conac? Kristy digs the Courvoisier. It's aparently popular with the black folks. Short of that... Well.... I really don't know what to say... I am not to proud to admit that I tried it. Though perhaps a wiser man would be. Anyway... it was different. I'll be stickin' to the bourbon of course.
Anyway... I've put Kristy to work on a homemade cheesecake... and we're fixin' to play some relatively high-stakes poker... and no doubt later we'll be linkin' up the two Xbox's for some Halo2.
I sincerely hope y'all are havin' half as good a night as we are. If so... you'll be grinnin' like a fool.
***Standard Friday Postin' Rules Apply***
My apologies. I realize the post is late. No doubt Jamie's already in the bed. Short timer. Alas, I've spent the evening with fine friends, fine whiskey, and fine tobacco. It's a tough life I tell ya.
Kristy and her soon-to-be-husband Dave are up hangin' out with us... so I kicked the evenin' off right with some mostly raw, yet slightly warm ribeyes and some fresh fried green beans. Plenty of bacon grease... Plenty of butter.
After the meal it was off to the front porch swing to watch the rain, sip the 1792 and smoke a couple Excalibers. King Arther if you're keepin' score. Again... Life is hard.
Kristy and Dave even spotted me a new bottle of 1792. God Bless 'em.
Any of you folks into Conac? Kristy digs the Courvoisier. It's aparently popular with the black folks. Short of that... Well.... I really don't know what to say... I am not to proud to admit that I tried it. Though perhaps a wiser man would be. Anyway... it was different. I'll be stickin' to the bourbon of course.
Anyway... I've put Kristy to work on a homemade cheesecake... and we're fixin' to play some relatively high-stakes poker... and no doubt later we'll be linkin' up the two Xbox's for some Halo2.
I sincerely hope y'all are havin' half as good a night as we are. If so... you'll be grinnin' like a fool.
***Standard Friday Postin' Rules Apply***
Slap a Hippy Day!
I hate today. Few things get under my skin like "Earth Day". See... today is the day we're all supposed to be conserned about terrible global problems like over population and global warming...
Over-population. I like that one... Let's look at it shall we? First of all, this is less an evironmental issue, and more of a math problem. Which no doubt is why the average individual is so incapable of understanding it. I mean come on... Long division is hard. But lets put our thinking caps on kids... and do try to stay with me.
There are 640 acres in a square mile.
There are 9,355,000 square miles of land in North America.
640 times 9,355,000 equals 5,987,200,000.
So... there are 5,987,200,000 acres of land in North America alone.
According to the CIA the current world population is 6,379,157,361.
Now I know this is really hard, but if you divide the entire population of the earth, by the number of acres in North America... You end up with 1.07 acres per person. If that sounds like a lot, you should consider that many many North American cities have population densities well over 85 per acre.
So... if we took the whole world, and moved everyone to North America we'd all still have an acre of land to live on, and that would put our population density rough 1/85th of what it is in say... New York city... or Detroit.
Speaking of Detroit... It's April 22nd... and its 30 degrees in Detroit today. It's going to snow in West Virginia this weekend. Snow. It's damned near May. So where is this Global Warming and where can we get some more of it?
But seriously... We have documented temperature fluctuation throughout the existence of the earth. The same geology that hippy's and atheists worship when it comes to dinosaurs and dating, plainly states that temperatures on the Earth fluctuate over time, and sometimes quite rapidly. According to them, this is perfectly natural. But no... In this case we should ignore the geologists. Its actually those evil SUV's.
The earth doesn't hurt people. The earth loves people. People are the problem. We do things that make the earth hurt us. We suck oil from her veins... and this causes gaps in her crust, which causes more earthquakes... which is what caused that aweful tsunami that killed all those people. SUV's kill!
Never mind that the scenario above is roughly like claiming that popping a zit caused a seizure... it sounds good to the totally ignorant... so they run with it. Anyone who stops to think for even a second will realize how enormously huge the earth's crust is... and immediately deduce that the theory is totally crap.
But that's just it. No one learns science anymore. Kids, and younger adults, have no idea about these things. Rather than learning geography, or basic science, their "science" classes are filled with PC Environmentalist BS.
But hey... you can't possibly expect the school system to teach kids math and science. I mean... if they did... they'd never get them to buy their environmentalist agenda.
I hate today. Few things get under my skin like "Earth Day". See... today is the day we're all supposed to be conserned about terrible global problems like over population and global warming...
Over-population. I like that one... Let's look at it shall we? First of all, this is less an evironmental issue, and more of a math problem. Which no doubt is why the average individual is so incapable of understanding it. I mean come on... Long division is hard. But lets put our thinking caps on kids... and do try to stay with me.
There are 640 acres in a square mile.
There are 9,355,000 square miles of land in North America.
640 times 9,355,000 equals 5,987,200,000.
So... there are 5,987,200,000 acres of land in North America alone.
According to the CIA the current world population is 6,379,157,361.
Now I know this is really hard, but if you divide the entire population of the earth, by the number of acres in North America... You end up with 1.07 acres per person. If that sounds like a lot, you should consider that many many North American cities have population densities well over 85 per acre.
So... if we took the whole world, and moved everyone to North America we'd all still have an acre of land to live on, and that would put our population density rough 1/85th of what it is in say... New York city... or Detroit.
Speaking of Detroit... It's April 22nd... and its 30 degrees in Detroit today. It's going to snow in West Virginia this weekend. Snow. It's damned near May. So where is this Global Warming and where can we get some more of it?
But seriously... We have documented temperature fluctuation throughout the existence of the earth. The same geology that hippy's and atheists worship when it comes to dinosaurs and dating, plainly states that temperatures on the Earth fluctuate over time, and sometimes quite rapidly. According to them, this is perfectly natural. But no... In this case we should ignore the geologists. Its actually those evil SUV's.
The earth doesn't hurt people. The earth loves people. People are the problem. We do things that make the earth hurt us. We suck oil from her veins... and this causes gaps in her crust, which causes more earthquakes... which is what caused that aweful tsunami that killed all those people. SUV's kill!
Never mind that the scenario above is roughly like claiming that popping a zit caused a seizure... it sounds good to the totally ignorant... so they run with it. Anyone who stops to think for even a second will realize how enormously huge the earth's crust is... and immediately deduce that the theory is totally crap.
But that's just it. No one learns science anymore. Kids, and younger adults, have no idea about these things. Rather than learning geography, or basic science, their "science" classes are filled with PC Environmentalist BS.
But hey... you can't possibly expect the school system to teach kids math and science. I mean... if they did... they'd never get them to buy their environmentalist agenda.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Why Michigan Sucks
1) That stupid fight song.
2) People in Mexico are thankful. At least their roads are better than Michigan's.
3) People in New Jersey are thankful. Their taxes aren't as high as Michigan's.
4) That stupid fight song.
5) The ugliest, most poorly designed stadium in America.
6) The idiots in Michigan spend decades arguing with the idiots in Ohio, over the claim of a totally useless black swamp. They almost went to war over this, while the rest of the country laughed at them.
7) When the idiots from Ohio won the swamp, the idiots in Michigan were awarded the resource rich upper pennisula as compensation... and they were pissed about it... because they really liked that useless black swamp.
8) That stupid fight song.
9) Detroit.
10) The Red Wings
11) M&M
12) Michigan went Kerry.
13) Michigan also went Gore.
14) That stupid fight song.
15) Michigan Lefts. See... in Michigan... if you want to turn left... you actually have to turn right... and immediatly cross traffic into the far left lane... then do a U turn through more traffic. As opposed to.. you know... turning left.
16) In Michigan, a blinking red traffic signal means you can go when traffic clears. That's right folks... Red means go.
1) That stupid fight song.
2) People in Mexico are thankful. At least their roads are better than Michigan's.
3) People in New Jersey are thankful. Their taxes aren't as high as Michigan's.
4) That stupid fight song.
5) The ugliest, most poorly designed stadium in America.
6) The idiots in Michigan spend decades arguing with the idiots in Ohio, over the claim of a totally useless black swamp. They almost went to war over this, while the rest of the country laughed at them.
7) When the idiots from Ohio won the swamp, the idiots in Michigan were awarded the resource rich upper pennisula as compensation... and they were pissed about it... because they really liked that useless black swamp.
8) That stupid fight song.
9) Detroit.
10) The Red Wings
11) M&M
12) Michigan went Kerry.
13) Michigan also went Gore.
14) That stupid fight song.
15) Michigan Lefts. See... in Michigan... if you want to turn left... you actually have to turn right... and immediatly cross traffic into the far left lane... then do a U turn through more traffic. As opposed to.. you know... turning left.
16) In Michigan, a blinking red traffic signal means you can go when traffic clears. That's right folks... Red means go.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Texas is Cool
There are several reasons Texas rules... not the least of which is the fact that Bane hates it. However, today I'm talking about something specific... I mean... When states get something right, we should point it out.
So... as common sense as this sounds... no doubt people will express shock and horror that sexual deviants will not be allowed to be foster parents. Of course... in places like California and Oregon, such a description will move you up high on the list of prospective foster parents... Not in good ol' Texas though. Queeners and Freaks need not apply.
I can hear the left squawkin' already... "I don't see what sexual orientation has to do with parenting skills." Well.. rat spit... I never thought of that! Why don't we just call up Nambla and start sending them little boys to nurture while we're at it!
Let's be clear on something.. if you are deviant to the point, that that deviance precludes you from reproducing through natural means... then you will get no where NEAR my kids, nor should you be around anyone elses, lest you infect them with your deviant ways.
Well... oh dear... that wasn't very nice of me wasn't? I'll never win that "Openminded Citizen of the Week" Award now.
There are several reasons Texas rules... not the least of which is the fact that Bane hates it. However, today I'm talking about something specific... I mean... When states get something right, we should point it out.
So... as common sense as this sounds... no doubt people will express shock and horror that sexual deviants will not be allowed to be foster parents. Of course... in places like California and Oregon, such a description will move you up high on the list of prospective foster parents... Not in good ol' Texas though. Queeners and Freaks need not apply.
I can hear the left squawkin' already... "I don't see what sexual orientation has to do with parenting skills." Well.. rat spit... I never thought of that! Why don't we just call up Nambla and start sending them little boys to nurture while we're at it!
Let's be clear on something.. if you are deviant to the point, that that deviance precludes you from reproducing through natural means... then you will get no where NEAR my kids, nor should you be around anyone elses, lest you infect them with your deviant ways.
Well... oh dear... that wasn't very nice of me wasn't? I'll never win that "Openminded Citizen of the Week" Award now.
Bad Joke Wednesday: Pirate Edition
-This pirate walks into a bar with a big ship's wheel down his pants. The bartender says, "Excuse me, sir, but do you know you have a ship's wheel down the front of your pants?" And the pirate says... Aaargh, it's driving me nuts!!
-a little kid with a speech impediment dresses up as a pirate and goes trick or treating. he knocks on the door of a house and a man answers. "oh, i can see you're dressed up as a pirate." the man says. "but where are your buccaneers?" the kid gets really mad, and says "on the sides of my buckin' head you buckin' moron!"
-What does a vegan pirate do in jail? Starrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrve!
-What has 8 arms and 8 legs? 8 Pirates!
-what's a pirate's second-choice job? An arrrrrrchitect!
-What's a pirate's favorite mode of transportation? A cAARRRRH!
-How did the pirate stop smoking? He used the patch!
-This pirate walks into a bar with a big ship's wheel down his pants. The bartender says, "Excuse me, sir, but do you know you have a ship's wheel down the front of your pants?" And the pirate says... Aaargh, it's driving me nuts!!
-a little kid with a speech impediment dresses up as a pirate and goes trick or treating. he knocks on the door of a house and a man answers. "oh, i can see you're dressed up as a pirate." the man says. "but where are your buccaneers?" the kid gets really mad, and says "on the sides of my buckin' head you buckin' moron!"
-What does a vegan pirate do in jail? Starrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrve!
-What has 8 arms and 8 legs? 8 Pirates!
-what's a pirate's second-choice job? An arrrrrrchitect!
-What's a pirate's favorite mode of transportation? A cAARRRRH!
-How did the pirate stop smoking? He used the patch!
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Damned Yankees
I'm sitting here just seething with rage. I find myself wishin' that some yankee piece of shit... yankee piece of shit... sorry... I suppose "piece of shit" is repetetive when coupled with "yankee"... anyway... I find myself wishing that one would show up at my door.
Few things would satisfy me right now like kicking some arrogant yankee piece of shit... dammit... I did it again... in the teeth.
Our whole lives we've listened to these pukes run their mouths. They look down on us... they are the enlightened... educated... and wealthy... we're the redneck hayseeds. They even went so far as to create the Department of Education to make sure we were taught that in our own schools.
They won... there fore they must be right. That's the additude they have. Might Makes Right. It does doesn't it? Yeah... it does... if you're an animal... or a 2nd grader.... or a Yankee... which would make you a combination of both.
This is where a better man would tell you all the things you can do to change these perceptions.
I ain't that man today. Today I don't want to change any perceptions. Today I wanna bust somebody up. Today I want to wring the life out of some yankee..... with my barehands... for the shear satisfaction of explaining to him that his murder must not be wrong... because after all...
Might makes right.
I'm sitting here just seething with rage. I find myself wishin' that some yankee piece of shit... yankee piece of shit... sorry... I suppose "piece of shit" is repetetive when coupled with "yankee"... anyway... I find myself wishing that one would show up at my door.
Few things would satisfy me right now like kicking some arrogant yankee piece of shit... dammit... I did it again... in the teeth.
Our whole lives we've listened to these pukes run their mouths. They look down on us... they are the enlightened... educated... and wealthy... we're the redneck hayseeds. They even went so far as to create the Department of Education to make sure we were taught that in our own schools.
They won... there fore they must be right. That's the additude they have. Might Makes Right. It does doesn't it? Yeah... it does... if you're an animal... or a 2nd grader.... or a Yankee... which would make you a combination of both.
This is where a better man would tell you all the things you can do to change these perceptions.
I ain't that man today. Today I don't want to change any perceptions. Today I wanna bust somebody up. Today I want to wring the life out of some yankee..... with my barehands... for the shear satisfaction of explaining to him that his murder must not be wrong... because after all...
Might makes right.
Monday, April 18, 2005
The Evil of the Income Tax
Where does one begin to discuss the rampant evil of such a thing? Sadly though I must, as it has become readily apparent that people no longer understand the true danger of such a wrong headed idea.
Many "conservatives" complain about the income tax because they believe it generates to much money for the government to blow. It takes huge sums from the economy and therefore hurts our standard of living.
Others will tell you that the real reason the tax is so evil is that it is theft. It's wealth distribution in its most vile and base form.
Both of these are certainly accurate descriptions of problems with the tax system. They are by no means the worst though.
The real evil of the income tax is the threat it poses to freedom. With an income tax, the government now has a reason to know what you do for a living, where you work, how much you make, how much you spend, and what you spend it on. Who you hire, how much you pay them, how much they work... are all now matters of government interest.
Where we get our money... is now a matter of government scrutiny.
This was the single dumbest thing the people of America could've done. The first person who suggested a federal income tax should've been publicly hung, right then and there, for treason. Such a thing simply gives the government to much power.
Ask yourself this...
If there is a federal sales tax... what business does the government have checking up on deposits of certain sizes? What business is it of the government where you work or how much you make?
None. None, and None.
And that is exactly why the government will never give up the Income Tax. Its the best method available for keeping tabs on the plebians... as well as keeping them in line.
Where does one begin to discuss the rampant evil of such a thing? Sadly though I must, as it has become readily apparent that people no longer understand the true danger of such a wrong headed idea.
Many "conservatives" complain about the income tax because they believe it generates to much money for the government to blow. It takes huge sums from the economy and therefore hurts our standard of living.
Others will tell you that the real reason the tax is so evil is that it is theft. It's wealth distribution in its most vile and base form.
Both of these are certainly accurate descriptions of problems with the tax system. They are by no means the worst though.
The real evil of the income tax is the threat it poses to freedom. With an income tax, the government now has a reason to know what you do for a living, where you work, how much you make, how much you spend, and what you spend it on. Who you hire, how much you pay them, how much they work... are all now matters of government interest.
Where we get our money... is now a matter of government scrutiny.
This was the single dumbest thing the people of America could've done. The first person who suggested a federal income tax should've been publicly hung, right then and there, for treason. Such a thing simply gives the government to much power.
Ask yourself this...
If there is a federal sales tax... what business does the government have checking up on deposits of certain sizes? What business is it of the government where you work or how much you make?
None. None, and None.
And that is exactly why the government will never give up the Income Tax. Its the best method available for keeping tabs on the plebians... as well as keeping them in line.
You Don't Hit Girls
I grew up in a little neighborhood, in a little town in Kentucky. Couples then were still having 3 and 4 kids, so I had no shortage of friends around. We spent our time playin' baseball, football, and GI Joe... and the occasional game of truth or dare with the little blonde twins up the street.
Growin' up in a family like mine... in a place like this... well... Its safe to say that most of us were men before we should've been. In its prime Europe was producing not just men, but kings, who were barely in their teens.
I still remember what happened when a young man named Tony... and remember... when I say young man... that's what I mean, a man who happens to be young... encountered the 13 year-old version of a femi-nazi.
She lived a few houses down from us. She always wore camo. She told everyone that she was as tough as any boy, and she frequently tried to prove it.
One day a group of probly... ten of us were playing baseball in a little field behind my bestfriend's house. A typical altercation commenced about who was safe, and who was out... and somehow or another... GI Jane (That's what we called the Femi-Nazi) shows up. She squares up with Tony and gets in his face.
Tony simple took a couple steps back, and nicely asked her to calm down.
She punched him the face.
He took it. I'd seen him fight. I knew he knew it was coming, and he could've blocked it, dodged it, or simply beaten her senseless before she even threw it... but he didn't. He just took it.
"Look... calm down. I don't fight girls. It ain't right."
She punched him in the face again, then started cussing him. She said everything you can imagine. She even started calling him a coward, to scared to fight a girl.
"Don't hit me again. I've already told you, I don't fight girls. It ain't right."
Red faced and seething now... she punches him again, and then she cusses him, and his family.
"You need to go home. That's three times you've hit me. You ain't gonna do it again."
Now.. at this point we noticed that Tony's stance had subtly changed. His feet were now shoulder width apart... left-foot slightly forward... his left hand hung close to his hip, and the fingers of his right hand were wiggling just a bit.
We all knew where this was goin'. At this point, we tried to intervene. We tried to get GI Jane to back off... fact is... we all wanted to see her get what was coming to her... but we didn't want Tony's Daddy to beat the tar out of him.. and we knew he would.
Aparently though... Tony had made a decision.
Little Miss made the mistake of throwing another punch... or I should more accurately say... attempting to. Her fist hadn't moved forward an inch when her nose exploded under Tony's fist. She was fallin', but Tony was on her already. He didn't care. She wasn't a girl to him anymore.
He pinned her to the ground and simply beat her senseless. She was crying like a 3 year-old girl who stubbed her toe... and begging him to stop.
He probably hit her about 8 times total... none of which were even partially blocked. The girl was a mess. Bleeding from the nose... mouth... swollen cheeks... She looked like she'd had her butt kicked. She had.
Tony went a lot easier on her than he would have another male. That is to say, he voluntarily stopped the beating.
See... Girls now assume that boys don't fight them, because the boys are scared of them. Tony wasn't scared at all. He just knew right, and wrong. He handled it differently than I did, when a chick in High School put me in the same situation, but I'm not going to say that he handled it wrong. After all... she was 3 years older than him, 5 inches taller, and probably out-wieghed him by 20 pounds.
At the time, Tony was the smallest kid in our class.
Most of all... I remember the look on his face after the last time she hit him. The calm resolve. He knew his daddy was gonna whip him for what he was about to do... but he was gonna do it just the same.
In the end though, he didn't get a beatin' at all. His daddy just said, "I told ya it was wrong to hit girls. That ain't no girl though son, that's just an animal."
I grew up in a little neighborhood, in a little town in Kentucky. Couples then were still having 3 and 4 kids, so I had no shortage of friends around. We spent our time playin' baseball, football, and GI Joe... and the occasional game of truth or dare with the little blonde twins up the street.
Growin' up in a family like mine... in a place like this... well... Its safe to say that most of us were men before we should've been. In its prime Europe was producing not just men, but kings, who were barely in their teens.
I still remember what happened when a young man named Tony... and remember... when I say young man... that's what I mean, a man who happens to be young... encountered the 13 year-old version of a femi-nazi.
She lived a few houses down from us. She always wore camo. She told everyone that she was as tough as any boy, and she frequently tried to prove it.
One day a group of probly... ten of us were playing baseball in a little field behind my bestfriend's house. A typical altercation commenced about who was safe, and who was out... and somehow or another... GI Jane (That's what we called the Femi-Nazi) shows up. She squares up with Tony and gets in his face.
Tony simple took a couple steps back, and nicely asked her to calm down.
She punched him the face.
He took it. I'd seen him fight. I knew he knew it was coming, and he could've blocked it, dodged it, or simply beaten her senseless before she even threw it... but he didn't. He just took it.
"Look... calm down. I don't fight girls. It ain't right."
She punched him in the face again, then started cussing him. She said everything you can imagine. She even started calling him a coward, to scared to fight a girl.
"Don't hit me again. I've already told you, I don't fight girls. It ain't right."
Red faced and seething now... she punches him again, and then she cusses him, and his family.
"You need to go home. That's three times you've hit me. You ain't gonna do it again."
Now.. at this point we noticed that Tony's stance had subtly changed. His feet were now shoulder width apart... left-foot slightly forward... his left hand hung close to his hip, and the fingers of his right hand were wiggling just a bit.
We all knew where this was goin'. At this point, we tried to intervene. We tried to get GI Jane to back off... fact is... we all wanted to see her get what was coming to her... but we didn't want Tony's Daddy to beat the tar out of him.. and we knew he would.
Aparently though... Tony had made a decision.
Little Miss made the mistake of throwing another punch... or I should more accurately say... attempting to. Her fist hadn't moved forward an inch when her nose exploded under Tony's fist. She was fallin', but Tony was on her already. He didn't care. She wasn't a girl to him anymore.
He pinned her to the ground and simply beat her senseless. She was crying like a 3 year-old girl who stubbed her toe... and begging him to stop.
He probably hit her about 8 times total... none of which were even partially blocked. The girl was a mess. Bleeding from the nose... mouth... swollen cheeks... She looked like she'd had her butt kicked. She had.
Tony went a lot easier on her than he would have another male. That is to say, he voluntarily stopped the beating.
See... Girls now assume that boys don't fight them, because the boys are scared of them. Tony wasn't scared at all. He just knew right, and wrong. He handled it differently than I did, when a chick in High School put me in the same situation, but I'm not going to say that he handled it wrong. After all... she was 3 years older than him, 5 inches taller, and probably out-wieghed him by 20 pounds.
At the time, Tony was the smallest kid in our class.
Most of all... I remember the look on his face after the last time she hit him. The calm resolve. He knew his daddy was gonna whip him for what he was about to do... but he was gonna do it just the same.
In the end though, he didn't get a beatin' at all. His daddy just said, "I told ya it was wrong to hit girls. That ain't no girl though son, that's just an animal."
Friday, April 15, 2005
ATF: Thanks
I was checkin' the snail mail the other day and I found a package from Maker's Mark. Sadly, it contained no bourbon... but no matter... the liquor cabinet is never in short supply. What it did contain was some info on a club that apparently someone nominated me for. I'm now an official Ambassador for Makers! In addition to several plush benefits, including our own private website, and access to the blogs of both the President (Bill Samuels) and those of the boys actually in charge of producing the stuff. Pretty cool eh?
HA! You've not even heard the best parts. There is now a barrell of Makers being produced, with my name on it! They send me updates on how its doing... on what stage of the process it's in... and when its ready, I'll get to buy bottles from it! Now... granted... I'm a bourbon dork... but to me... this is pretty much the coolest thing short of buying a whole barrell of whiskey intact. That's something they do with Jack Daniels... but as of today, no one else does it.
So anyway... to whomever submitted me for this, I really appreciate it. Thanks y'all.
Now... On to some more pressing matters...
Have any of you tried the Elijah Craig small batch? It's around 94 proof or so... aged 12 years?
Well do yourself a favor. Avoid it like the plague. The stuff makes ol' number 7 taste like God's Own Whiskey. The pricks who make it, just randomly pick barrels from their cheap whiskey warehouse... age it to long... mess around with the proof... then put it in a fancy bottle, and give it a fancy name. The bottle claims to be a product of the Elijah Craig distillery in Bardstown, KY... of course.... it's a funny thing... There ain't no such place. Hasn't been for years.
It's just an example of a big distillery renaming the same old swill and selling it for twice the price. Jerks.
For the record, there are only two distilleries out there that put their name on every label they produce; Wild Turkey, and Makers Mark.
I suggest that its likely no coincidence that the two, top to bottom, make the best booze in the world. See... Makers is just Makers. Every bottle tastes the same. It's all quality bourbon. There is no small batch version... hell... it's all small batch.. and it was small batch before small batch was cool.
As for Turkey... it doesn't matter if you get the cheapest bottle they make... it's still good bourbon. Now.. sure... they have Rare Breed, and Russel's Reserve... which are arguably the best you can get.. I'll take Bookers or Knob Creek myself... but hey... at that level, you're really splittin' hairs.
The trouble with Jim Beam... who makes Bookers, Bakers, Knob Creek, ect.... is that they also make plain ol' Jim Beam, and Jim Beam Black... Which frankly suck. Compared to standard Wild Turkey or Makers... they are swill. I mean.. they a few steps up from Scotch. Ya may as well drink Jack Daniels.
So anyway... If you're out and about... and your thinkin' of pickin' up some Elijah Craig, save your money. Grab some Makers Mark, and toss one back for ol' Nate. I get nothin' from them for sayin' this. I just like their product, and I want you to like your bourbon.
Now... Has anyone shot a Walther P99? I understand that they have 4 different trigger pull setups that you can buy... from a long heavy pull... to a short-light glock style, and two in between. This is pretty bizarre, and its the only firearm in the world engineered this way. Depending on the designation, you can fire four different P99's and they'll all feel radically different.
I lust for the P99 Quick Action. For all last week's boasting on the Springfield XD, I still haven't made up my mind. Ah well... I'll just have to try both. Pity ain't it?
Anyway... It's 1792 tonight... maybe some Jim Beam Black and Coke... God knows I won't waste the good whiskey on one.
***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***
I was checkin' the snail mail the other day and I found a package from Maker's Mark. Sadly, it contained no bourbon... but no matter... the liquor cabinet is never in short supply. What it did contain was some info on a club that apparently someone nominated me for. I'm now an official Ambassador for Makers! In addition to several plush benefits, including our own private website, and access to the blogs of both the President (Bill Samuels) and those of the boys actually in charge of producing the stuff. Pretty cool eh?
HA! You've not even heard the best parts. There is now a barrell of Makers being produced, with my name on it! They send me updates on how its doing... on what stage of the process it's in... and when its ready, I'll get to buy bottles from it! Now... granted... I'm a bourbon dork... but to me... this is pretty much the coolest thing short of buying a whole barrell of whiskey intact. That's something they do with Jack Daniels... but as of today, no one else does it.
So anyway... to whomever submitted me for this, I really appreciate it. Thanks y'all.
Now... On to some more pressing matters...
Have any of you tried the Elijah Craig small batch? It's around 94 proof or so... aged 12 years?
Well do yourself a favor. Avoid it like the plague. The stuff makes ol' number 7 taste like God's Own Whiskey. The pricks who make it, just randomly pick barrels from their cheap whiskey warehouse... age it to long... mess around with the proof... then put it in a fancy bottle, and give it a fancy name. The bottle claims to be a product of the Elijah Craig distillery in Bardstown, KY... of course.... it's a funny thing... There ain't no such place. Hasn't been for years.
It's just an example of a big distillery renaming the same old swill and selling it for twice the price. Jerks.
For the record, there are only two distilleries out there that put their name on every label they produce; Wild Turkey, and Makers Mark.
I suggest that its likely no coincidence that the two, top to bottom, make the best booze in the world. See... Makers is just Makers. Every bottle tastes the same. It's all quality bourbon. There is no small batch version... hell... it's all small batch.. and it was small batch before small batch was cool.
As for Turkey... it doesn't matter if you get the cheapest bottle they make... it's still good bourbon. Now.. sure... they have Rare Breed, and Russel's Reserve... which are arguably the best you can get.. I'll take Bookers or Knob Creek myself... but hey... at that level, you're really splittin' hairs.
The trouble with Jim Beam... who makes Bookers, Bakers, Knob Creek, ect.... is that they also make plain ol' Jim Beam, and Jim Beam Black... Which frankly suck. Compared to standard Wild Turkey or Makers... they are swill. I mean.. they a few steps up from Scotch. Ya may as well drink Jack Daniels.
So anyway... If you're out and about... and your thinkin' of pickin' up some Elijah Craig, save your money. Grab some Makers Mark, and toss one back for ol' Nate. I get nothin' from them for sayin' this. I just like their product, and I want you to like your bourbon.
Now... Has anyone shot a Walther P99? I understand that they have 4 different trigger pull setups that you can buy... from a long heavy pull... to a short-light glock style, and two in between. This is pretty bizarre, and its the only firearm in the world engineered this way. Depending on the designation, you can fire four different P99's and they'll all feel radically different.
I lust for the P99 Quick Action. For all last week's boasting on the Springfield XD, I still haven't made up my mind. Ah well... I'll just have to try both. Pity ain't it?
Anyway... It's 1792 tonight... maybe some Jim Beam Black and Coke... God knows I won't waste the good whiskey on one.
***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***
The Battle of Los Angeles
I'm not really a UFO nut... but that said... I'm fairly open-minded about the idea. I'm just not one of these nut-cases who'll tell you every technological advance of the last 50 years is actually related to some disk our government found near Roswell. To be real honest... the subject of UFO's doesn't really even excite me that much.
So why am I bothering writing about it?
Because it demonstrates the government's prowess when it comes to the fine art of the coverup.
I know you all know the story of Roswell. But I wonder... Did you know that it was the military itself that broke the story? The whole thing started when a colonel at an airforce base told a reporter, "We were fortunate enough to recover a disk."
It wasn't until a couple days later, when the story was sent out on the wire that the military suddenly began changing its tune.
But to me, the more stunning example... took place a few years earlier...
Feburary 25th, 1942. Pearl Harbor was just a couple months ago, and it was more than fresh on the minds of our country. Late that night, air raid sirens are heard throughout L.A. A blackout is ordered, and executed.
That night, not far from where LAX now stands, the US military shot over 1400 anti-aircraft rounds into the night sky. Search lights focused on a slow moving object, witnessed by thousands. It was the lead story on the front page of the LA Times for a week.
Funny... How many of you have heard about this before now? How many of you knew that the military had actually reported recovering a disk "of interplanetary nature" to the press themselves?
Is it real? That's not the point. The point is, something bizarre happened over LA, and now, not only do we not have an explaination for it... in fact, what thousands saw, and remember to this day, is simply forgotten. It didn't happen. If you bring it up... you're just nutty as the proverbial fruitcake.
They are so good... they can tell you X, then tell you Y... and before long, anyone who suggests X is also seen as a nutcase.
Remember:
TWA 800 suffered a freak electrical outlet in its fuel cells.
The Branch Davidians burned themselves.
Ruby Ridge was just an unfortunate, tragic result, of the gun culture.
The Cops were on the seen in minutes after the shooting started at Columbine.
That building in Oklahoma City was blown up from the outside in, with fertalizer.
The American Civil war was fought to free the slaves.
Your government doesn't lie to you.
There's one other thing I wonder today.... no no... I mean besides what I'm drinkin' tonight... I wonder... how many of you know that a graduate of Cambridge University, is barred from teaching in government schools in America, because they might teach history from a different point of view... This was so, even before NCLB.
Still think education is their goal?
I'm not really a UFO nut... but that said... I'm fairly open-minded about the idea. I'm just not one of these nut-cases who'll tell you every technological advance of the last 50 years is actually related to some disk our government found near Roswell. To be real honest... the subject of UFO's doesn't really even excite me that much.
So why am I bothering writing about it?
Because it demonstrates the government's prowess when it comes to the fine art of the coverup.
I know you all know the story of Roswell. But I wonder... Did you know that it was the military itself that broke the story? The whole thing started when a colonel at an airforce base told a reporter, "We were fortunate enough to recover a disk."
It wasn't until a couple days later, when the story was sent out on the wire that the military suddenly began changing its tune.
But to me, the more stunning example... took place a few years earlier...
Feburary 25th, 1942. Pearl Harbor was just a couple months ago, and it was more than fresh on the minds of our country. Late that night, air raid sirens are heard throughout L.A. A blackout is ordered, and executed.
That night, not far from where LAX now stands, the US military shot over 1400 anti-aircraft rounds into the night sky. Search lights focused on a slow moving object, witnessed by thousands. It was the lead story on the front page of the LA Times for a week.
Funny... How many of you have heard about this before now? How many of you knew that the military had actually reported recovering a disk "of interplanetary nature" to the press themselves?
Is it real? That's not the point. The point is, something bizarre happened over LA, and now, not only do we not have an explaination for it... in fact, what thousands saw, and remember to this day, is simply forgotten. It didn't happen. If you bring it up... you're just nutty as the proverbial fruitcake.
They are so good... they can tell you X, then tell you Y... and before long, anyone who suggests X is also seen as a nutcase.
Remember:
TWA 800 suffered a freak electrical outlet in its fuel cells.
The Branch Davidians burned themselves.
Ruby Ridge was just an unfortunate, tragic result, of the gun culture.
The Cops were on the seen in minutes after the shooting started at Columbine.
That building in Oklahoma City was blown up from the outside in, with fertalizer.
The American Civil war was fought to free the slaves.
Your government doesn't lie to you.
There's one other thing I wonder today.... no no... I mean besides what I'm drinkin' tonight... I wonder... how many of you know that a graduate of Cambridge University, is barred from teaching in government schools in America, because they might teach history from a different point of view... This was so, even before NCLB.
Still think education is their goal?
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
The Much Requested, and Slightly Delayed... Bad Joke Wednesday
This week... we're going with clever quotes and such...
-Only in America do we have a general in charge of the post office and a secretary in charge of defense. --Unknown
-A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain. --Robert Frost
- Politicians are like diapers. They should both be changed frequently and for the same reason. -- Will Rogers
- Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy. --Albert Einstein
-The fact that no one understands you doesn't make you an artist. --Unknown
-Honolulu - it's got everything. Sand for the children, sun for the wife, sharks for the wife's mother. --Ken Dodd
-A man is only as old as the woman he feels. --Groucho Marx
- Every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods. --H. L. Mencken
-Those who cast the votes decide nothing. Those who count the votes decide everything. --Josef Stalin
-Politics is supposed to be the second-oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first. --Ronald Reagan
This week... we're going with clever quotes and such...
-Only in America do we have a general in charge of the post office and a secretary in charge of defense. --Unknown
-A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain. --Robert Frost
- Politicians are like diapers. They should both be changed frequently and for the same reason. -- Will Rogers
- Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy. --Albert Einstein
-The fact that no one understands you doesn't make you an artist. --Unknown
-Honolulu - it's got everything. Sand for the children, sun for the wife, sharks for the wife's mother. --Ken Dodd
-A man is only as old as the woman he feels. --Groucho Marx
- Every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods. --H. L. Mencken
-Those who cast the votes decide nothing. Those who count the votes decide everything. --Josef Stalin
-Politics is supposed to be the second-oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first. --Ronald Reagan
Not a Democracy
America is not a democracy... so says the ancient high school civics book... It's a Representative Republic!
I would have to point out... that that would be contengent on one's definition of the word "is". If "is" means a present state of being... then no. It is not a Representative Republic. If "is" means "was formed as" then the answer is yes... but today... right now... She's not a Republic.
She's some sort of bizarre bastardization of a good idea.
As I've written before... your vote is less than meaningless. It is in fact key to the very mechanism that enslaves you. You believe you have some sort of say in the government, therefore you happily muddle about, never questioning the true nature of the despotism perpetuated around you.
You want freedom?
Stop voting.
Lets examine shall we... how differently things would have gone had John Kerry been elected. What would be different today? Would we have a sealed southern border? Nope. In fact, we'd have a President calling volunteer citizens who help the border patrol vigilantes. Oh wait... We've got that now don't we?
Well... we'd have had a budget proposed that was fat with spending on all manner of poorly thought-out government programs. umm... We have that now don't we?
JUDGES!!! The Judges Kerry nominated would be aweful!
And don't Republican appointees have a glowing trackrecord? Methinks the late Mrs Shaivo would disagree... as would anyone who has ever had the misfortune of exposure to Sandra Day O'Connor and her traitorous bile.
You vote is less than meaningless...
Because you do not vote for those who make policy. Congress rights broad laws, and then leaves it to the alphabet agencies to implement those programs and laws. The specifics, are handled by beuracrat executives and other assorted inbreds.
You have no say. You vote, is nothing more than a fancy pair of handcuffs that keeps you in line, and even makes you happy about being in line... because hey... aren't your handcuffs pretty?
America will not change until the People change.
You must stop living your life as an employee. You must become self-suficient.
We must.
Stack your ammo. Clean the guns. Most importantly... Pray.
America is not a democracy... so says the ancient high school civics book... It's a Representative Republic!
I would have to point out... that that would be contengent on one's definition of the word "is". If "is" means a present state of being... then no. It is not a Representative Republic. If "is" means "was formed as" then the answer is yes... but today... right now... She's not a Republic.
She's some sort of bizarre bastardization of a good idea.
As I've written before... your vote is less than meaningless. It is in fact key to the very mechanism that enslaves you. You believe you have some sort of say in the government, therefore you happily muddle about, never questioning the true nature of the despotism perpetuated around you.
You want freedom?
Stop voting.
Lets examine shall we... how differently things would have gone had John Kerry been elected. What would be different today? Would we have a sealed southern border? Nope. In fact, we'd have a President calling volunteer citizens who help the border patrol vigilantes. Oh wait... We've got that now don't we?
Well... we'd have had a budget proposed that was fat with spending on all manner of poorly thought-out government programs. umm... We have that now don't we?
JUDGES!!! The Judges Kerry nominated would be aweful!
And don't Republican appointees have a glowing trackrecord? Methinks the late Mrs Shaivo would disagree... as would anyone who has ever had the misfortune of exposure to Sandra Day O'Connor and her traitorous bile.
You vote is less than meaningless...
Because you do not vote for those who make policy. Congress rights broad laws, and then leaves it to the alphabet agencies to implement those programs and laws. The specifics, are handled by beuracrat executives and other assorted inbreds.
You have no say. You vote, is nothing more than a fancy pair of handcuffs that keeps you in line, and even makes you happy about being in line... because hey... aren't your handcuffs pretty?
America will not change until the People change.
You must stop living your life as an employee. You must become self-suficient.
We must.
Stack your ammo. Clean the guns. Most importantly... Pray.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Frailty
On a rare... very rare occasion a movie comes along that actually makes me think. Such was the case with one of my all-time favorite flicks... Frailty.
What I got to thinking was... How does a man of faith handle a direct order from God... to do something that he would otherwise deem as wrong or insane?
Christians are spiritual people... much as we sometimes try to hide it. So... put yourself in this situation;
You're asleep... dreaming of who knows what... when an Angel wakes you up. You know its an angel like you know 2+2=4. It just is. The angel tells you that Satan is loose, and has set demons on the earth. You are chosen to destroy them. He gives you specific and obvious instructions on what to do when, and how you will know them as demons. You will even be provided with weapons, and a list of demons to kill.
Now... Do you check yourself into a mental hospital? Do you disobey, and beg forgiveness? Or... is it time to buy a black duster?
On a rare... very rare occasion a movie comes along that actually makes me think. Such was the case with one of my all-time favorite flicks... Frailty.
What I got to thinking was... How does a man of faith handle a direct order from God... to do something that he would otherwise deem as wrong or insane?
Christians are spiritual people... much as we sometimes try to hide it. So... put yourself in this situation;
You're asleep... dreaming of who knows what... when an Angel wakes you up. You know its an angel like you know 2+2=4. It just is. The angel tells you that Satan is loose, and has set demons on the earth. You are chosen to destroy them. He gives you specific and obvious instructions on what to do when, and how you will know them as demons. You will even be provided with weapons, and a list of demons to kill.
Now... Do you check yourself into a mental hospital? Do you disobey, and beg forgiveness? Or... is it time to buy a black duster?
Monday, April 11, 2005
Springtime
Man... Has the warm weather takin' a bite outta the blogosphere or what? Everyone's comments are down... most blogs are getting updated with decreasing frequency...
The sky is fallin'!
Well... ok... maybe it ain't that bad... just something I've noticed over the last couple weeks. No doubt it'll bounce back.
I can't speak for anyone else. But I for one just don't have time to blog much right now. I realize that's a pretty bizarre thing for a fella in my situation to say... but dammit, I've got an infant, a two-year-old, and a wife to take care of! And beyond that... Joy's here now... So I have requisite flirting quotas to meet as well.
The latest quandry I have is... what cruiser does a guy who doesn't really like cruisers buy? I mean... if money was no object... I'd go get a Victory 8-ball, and roll happily down the road. Unfortunately at least for another year... money is in fact an object.
All cruisers are underpowered says I... so should I get a 800 pound monstrosity that is less under-powered? Or should I simply thumb my nose at the cruiser world's most sacred cow... Displacement... and buy a cheap, well rounded, smaller bike?
I dig the new Suzuki M50, and the not so new Suzuki C50T. This bike is gonna see some interstate miles... so a windshield, bags, and backrest a for DrWho are required... would such things look wierd on that low and long M50? What about the VTX1300? But if I'm gonna go with the 1300... why not get the 1800 that's just 30 pounds heavier?
I really have no idea. I mean... Kawisaki and Yamaha both have legit options as well. I really don't want a vtx1800... in fact.. I really don't want a vtx1300 either... but if that's the best deal... that's what I'll do... Hell, I'll be tradin' it in a couple years anyway. Because rest assured... There is a Confederate Hellcat in my future.
Man... Has the warm weather takin' a bite outta the blogosphere or what? Everyone's comments are down... most blogs are getting updated with decreasing frequency...
The sky is fallin'!
Well... ok... maybe it ain't that bad... just something I've noticed over the last couple weeks. No doubt it'll bounce back.
I can't speak for anyone else. But I for one just don't have time to blog much right now. I realize that's a pretty bizarre thing for a fella in my situation to say... but dammit, I've got an infant, a two-year-old, and a wife to take care of! And beyond that... Joy's here now... So I have requisite flirting quotas to meet as well.
The latest quandry I have is... what cruiser does a guy who doesn't really like cruisers buy? I mean... if money was no object... I'd go get a Victory 8-ball, and roll happily down the road. Unfortunately at least for another year... money is in fact an object.
All cruisers are underpowered says I... so should I get a 800 pound monstrosity that is less under-powered? Or should I simply thumb my nose at the cruiser world's most sacred cow... Displacement... and buy a cheap, well rounded, smaller bike?
I dig the new Suzuki M50, and the not so new Suzuki C50T. This bike is gonna see some interstate miles... so a windshield, bags, and backrest a for DrWho are required... would such things look wierd on that low and long M50? What about the VTX1300? But if I'm gonna go with the 1300... why not get the 1800 that's just 30 pounds heavier?
I really have no idea. I mean... Kawisaki and Yamaha both have legit options as well. I really don't want a vtx1800... in fact.. I really don't want a vtx1300 either... but if that's the best deal... that's what I'll do... Hell, I'll be tradin' it in a couple years anyway. Because rest assured... There is a Confederate Hellcat in my future.
Friday, April 08, 2005
ATF
Ahh... Spring is in the air y'all. I've spent the whole afternoon outside... sunnin' on a blanket on my back deck. Cold drink... Hot sun... no where to be... Nothin' to do.
What more can a man hope for?
Oh yeah... I keep forgetting... you poor bastards are at work!
HA!
Music: Obviously the choice for now is Jimmy Buffet. I've got his live version of Southern Cross on right now. Pirate at 40... He Went to Paris... all the classics too... But tonight I suspect it will be more along the lines of a Pink Floyd evening. I've been humming "On The Turning Away" all day. What a band...
Alchohol: On a day like this? Duh... I'm all about corona and margaritas today. The tequila is of course Sauza Conmemorativo. It's aged in oak barrels just like bourbon, for about 4 years or so. Its a genuine anejo tequila... smooth and distinct. I'm not much for drinkin' the stuff straight.. but if I was, this would be what I'd choose.
Tobacco: Excaliber 1066 King Arthur. 6.25 x 45. This bad boy has a cameroon wrapper, that in my humble opinion is better than the ones Cohiba uses. Those damned things unwrapped in my hand. It's a sweet, slow burn, and an easy draw. The taste is creamy.. sweet... but more full bodied than most Hoyos... Hoyo.. sorry.. that's the manufacturer of the brand. Anyway.. for 6 bucks.. they are tough to beat really. Fine smoke indeed.
Firearms: Today we lust for the new Springfield XD in the vaunted new .45GAP. What's that? You've not heard of .45GAP? Well... lets just say that it's shorter than .45ACP, but produced the same performance. This means... if you have girly little hands.. ahem...Will... then you can still carry a .45, and get .45ACP stopping power, just like a real man! If you like Glocks, I cannot stress enough how important it is that you look into the XD as well. It simply out glocks Glock at every turn. It gives you a grip saftey, which.. if you're a cop is important... as it may actually prevent you from being another one of the thousands of moron police types who've shot themselves in the foot with their Glocks. Of course... if you're not a cop, then you're probably smart enough to not shoot yourself in the foot... but still.. a grip safety is a damned good idea, and frankly I think all auto's should have them. As for me... The GAP may be enough to push me over the limit... I've had an on-going struggle within me... on the one hand is a Walther P99... on the other is a Springfield XD. Hrmm.. Make mine the 5-inch tactical please.
Alright then... that about covers it. I'm off to pour a margarita and bake a little more. How about you?
***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***
Ahh... Spring is in the air y'all. I've spent the whole afternoon outside... sunnin' on a blanket on my back deck. Cold drink... Hot sun... no where to be... Nothin' to do.
What more can a man hope for?
Oh yeah... I keep forgetting... you poor bastards are at work!
HA!
Music: Obviously the choice for now is Jimmy Buffet. I've got his live version of Southern Cross on right now. Pirate at 40... He Went to Paris... all the classics too... But tonight I suspect it will be more along the lines of a Pink Floyd evening. I've been humming "On The Turning Away" all day. What a band...
Alchohol: On a day like this? Duh... I'm all about corona and margaritas today. The tequila is of course Sauza Conmemorativo. It's aged in oak barrels just like bourbon, for about 4 years or so. Its a genuine anejo tequila... smooth and distinct. I'm not much for drinkin' the stuff straight.. but if I was, this would be what I'd choose.
Tobacco: Excaliber 1066 King Arthur. 6.25 x 45. This bad boy has a cameroon wrapper, that in my humble opinion is better than the ones Cohiba uses. Those damned things unwrapped in my hand. It's a sweet, slow burn, and an easy draw. The taste is creamy.. sweet... but more full bodied than most Hoyos... Hoyo.. sorry.. that's the manufacturer of the brand. Anyway.. for 6 bucks.. they are tough to beat really. Fine smoke indeed.
Firearms: Today we lust for the new Springfield XD in the vaunted new .45GAP. What's that? You've not heard of .45GAP? Well... lets just say that it's shorter than .45ACP, but produced the same performance. This means... if you have girly little hands.. ahem...Will... then you can still carry a .45, and get .45ACP stopping power, just like a real man! If you like Glocks, I cannot stress enough how important it is that you look into the XD as well. It simply out glocks Glock at every turn. It gives you a grip saftey, which.. if you're a cop is important... as it may actually prevent you from being another one of the thousands of moron police types who've shot themselves in the foot with their Glocks. Of course... if you're not a cop, then you're probably smart enough to not shoot yourself in the foot... but still.. a grip safety is a damned good idea, and frankly I think all auto's should have them. As for me... The GAP may be enough to push me over the limit... I've had an on-going struggle within me... on the one hand is a Walther P99... on the other is a Springfield XD. Hrmm.. Make mine the 5-inch tactical please.
Alright then... that about covers it. I'm off to pour a margarita and bake a little more. How about you?
***Standard Friday Posting Rules Apply***
The Do-Gooder Buzz
Is anything more irritating than the bleeding hearts who get their Cause of the Day from the emotional orgasm spawned from whatever Hollywood tripe they happened upon that weekend?
No doubt millions are up in arms over Hotel Rwanda. "We have to DO something!"
"DO something". That's what they always say. Of course... sending money is the only thing that qualifies as "doing something". A bleeding heart's emotional need to "do something" is purely selfish. They get the same do-gooder buzz, regardless of the effects of their actions. It doesn't matter if they in fact, made matters worse.
Let me relate in the form of a tale...
A liberal and Conservative are driving along, happily discussing their varied reasons for hating Bush, when they come upon a car wreck.
They stop, and immediate rush over to try to help. Near the wreck they find a man with a broken leg. Immediately the liberal squaks, "We have to do something... we have to do something!"
The conservative points out that they don't know the extent of his injuries. They shouldn't move him.
The liberal can't help himself anymore... "We have to do something! I know! Let's kick him!"
The conservative is aghast. He restrains the liberal until the paramedics arrive. But when they get there... the liberal immediately starts screaming that he tried to help the man, but the evil conservative prevented him. The paramedics then say nasty things about the conservative and go on about their business.
That's the way things work. Liberals will kill you for your own good, and do so with impunity. Hundereds of millions of Africans are dead, so liberals could get a do-gooder buzz from banning DDT.
Is anything more irritating than the bleeding hearts who get their Cause of the Day from the emotional orgasm spawned from whatever Hollywood tripe they happened upon that weekend?
No doubt millions are up in arms over Hotel Rwanda. "We have to DO something!"
"DO something". That's what they always say. Of course... sending money is the only thing that qualifies as "doing something". A bleeding heart's emotional need to "do something" is purely selfish. They get the same do-gooder buzz, regardless of the effects of their actions. It doesn't matter if they in fact, made matters worse.
Let me relate in the form of a tale...
A liberal and Conservative are driving along, happily discussing their varied reasons for hating Bush, when they come upon a car wreck.
They stop, and immediate rush over to try to help. Near the wreck they find a man with a broken leg. Immediately the liberal squaks, "We have to do something... we have to do something!"
The conservative points out that they don't know the extent of his injuries. They shouldn't move him.
The liberal can't help himself anymore... "We have to do something! I know! Let's kick him!"
The conservative is aghast. He restrains the liberal until the paramedics arrive. But when they get there... the liberal immediately starts screaming that he tried to help the man, but the evil conservative prevented him. The paramedics then say nasty things about the conservative and go on about their business.
That's the way things work. Liberals will kill you for your own good, and do so with impunity. Hundereds of millions of Africans are dead, so liberals could get a do-gooder buzz from banning DDT.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Audio Blogs
For any of ya interested, JAC is off on a motorcycle ride with some buddies. They're headin' down the Natchez Trace. He's audio bloggin' from the road, and includin' some history and such in his posts as well. No doubt he'll have a yarn or two to spin. If nothin' else you can get the pleasure and enjoyment of hearin' an authentic southron, who still talks like one.
I rode the Trace with him last year on the way home after we finished our Iron Butt ride. We saw some pretty cool stuff... for example... I learned that Buzzards eat other Buzzards... even other Buzzards that ain't all the way... or really even half-way dead yet.
You ever seen a fella on a bike kick a buzzard as he was goin' by at about 70?
Good Times.
Hell... We drank a beer in the bar where Jim Bowie gutted an ol' boy like a fish after the moron tried to shoot him in the back.
What more can a man ask for?
For any of ya interested, JAC is off on a motorcycle ride with some buddies. They're headin' down the Natchez Trace. He's audio bloggin' from the road, and includin' some history and such in his posts as well. No doubt he'll have a yarn or two to spin. If nothin' else you can get the pleasure and enjoyment of hearin' an authentic southron, who still talks like one.
I rode the Trace with him last year on the way home after we finished our Iron Butt ride. We saw some pretty cool stuff... for example... I learned that Buzzards eat other Buzzards... even other Buzzards that ain't all the way... or really even half-way dead yet.
You ever seen a fella on a bike kick a buzzard as he was goin' by at about 70?
Good Times.
Hell... We drank a beer in the bar where Jim Bowie gutted an ol' boy like a fish after the moron tried to shoot him in the back.
What more can a man ask for?
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Bad Joke Wednesday
At long last... It returns... In all its horrible splendor.
- There were two retired racehorses living in a pasture. Their names were Razzle and Dazzle. Every day they would race from one end of the pasture to the other. On the first day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. The next day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. The third day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. A dog who had been watching them race day after day finally asked them, "Why is it that Razzle always wins by a nose?" And Razzle said to Dazzle, "Look, Dazzle, a talking dog!"
- One cutting edge aquarium saved a lot of money when its owner discovered a means to make the dolphins live forever -- since the dolphins never died, no money needed to be spent on buying new ones. Extending the dolphins' lives required putting a special mixture into their food; one of the ingredients was baby sea gull meat. So one day, one of the workers was sent to the beach to find some. On the way back, baby sea gulls in hand, he had to pass through a forest. In the middle of the path was a sleeping lion. He very carefully stepped over it, only to be handcuffed by a policeman.
"Officer," he said, "what's going on?"
"You're under arrest," said the policeman.
"But why?" he asked.
The policeman replied, "For transporting young gulls across sedate lions for immortal porpoises."
- There were two fish in a tank. One fish said to the other fish, "So... How do you drive this thing?"
- How do you keep a moron in suspense?
At long last... It returns... In all its horrible splendor.
- There were two retired racehorses living in a pasture. Their names were Razzle and Dazzle. Every day they would race from one end of the pasture to the other. On the first day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. The next day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. The third day, Razzle pulled out ahead, then Dazzle caught up, then Razzle pulled away, then Dazzle started running even faster, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, Razzle, Dazzle, and Razzle won by a nose. A dog who had been watching them race day after day finally asked them, "Why is it that Razzle always wins by a nose?" And Razzle said to Dazzle, "Look, Dazzle, a talking dog!"
- One cutting edge aquarium saved a lot of money when its owner discovered a means to make the dolphins live forever -- since the dolphins never died, no money needed to be spent on buying new ones. Extending the dolphins' lives required putting a special mixture into their food; one of the ingredients was baby sea gull meat. So one day, one of the workers was sent to the beach to find some. On the way back, baby sea gulls in hand, he had to pass through a forest. In the middle of the path was a sleeping lion. He very carefully stepped over it, only to be handcuffed by a policeman.
"Officer," he said, "what's going on?"
"You're under arrest," said the policeman.
"But why?" he asked.
The policeman replied, "For transporting young gulls across sedate lions for immortal porpoises."
- There were two fish in a tank. One fish said to the other fish, "So... How do you drive this thing?"
- How do you keep a moron in suspense?
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
First Ride '05
I got the call around 10am... it's sunny... really sunny. It's 73 degrees... In other words...
It was time to coax the big CBR outta hibernation.
A little tinkering here and there... and some charging on her battery... nothing intense. Around 3pm Curt pulled up on his new VTX 1800. It's a big "power" cruiser. I put the word power in quotes because well... such a word has no business being used in conjunction with the word "cruiser". A powerful cruiser is like polite yankee. That is to say... It's a myth.
Cruisers are about show... Not go. They rumble and skawk real loud... but when ya twist the go handle, you learn that you have enough there to smoke a car... but that's about it.
For perspective... Let me put it this way... Curts VTX has an 1800cc engine. My bike has a 998cc engine. He has damned near double my engine.
But I have more than double his horsepower, and almost as much torque.
Dig?
So when you so them boys ridin' around looking cool on their choppers... remember this...
They're posing. They are out playin' dress-up... Just like 12 year-old girls, 'cept... instead of dressin' up like princesses... they're dressin' up as... well... ummm... queens.
Anyway... it was a gorgeous day... and I needed a ridin' buddy... so Curt would have to do... even if he was in bull-dyke-biker mode. I'm sure we made a pretty bizzare pair... me in my no-nonsense black ridin' gear... and him all dressed up, complete with a flamin' skull brain bucket.
I was embarrassed to be seen with him to be honest... but hell... What am I gonna do? He's got an Aprilia at home. If I give him to much crap he might not let me ride it!
Anyway... we took it easy. That is to say I only topped 125 twice. Once on accident, and once... well.. just because.
Anyway.... Pray for me... My wife got to go for a ride on that VTX a few months ago... and she loved it. She wants me to get a damned Cruiser. A cruiser... The motorcycle equivalent of walkin' around with a sock in your pants.
Leathers and a bike don't make you a biker. Hell... A cat might have kittens in the oven... but that don't make 'em biscuits.
I got the call around 10am... it's sunny... really sunny. It's 73 degrees... In other words...
It was time to coax the big CBR outta hibernation.
A little tinkering here and there... and some charging on her battery... nothing intense. Around 3pm Curt pulled up on his new VTX 1800. It's a big "power" cruiser. I put the word power in quotes because well... such a word has no business being used in conjunction with the word "cruiser". A powerful cruiser is like polite yankee. That is to say... It's a myth.
Cruisers are about show... Not go. They rumble and skawk real loud... but when ya twist the go handle, you learn that you have enough there to smoke a car... but that's about it.
For perspective... Let me put it this way... Curts VTX has an 1800cc engine. My bike has a 998cc engine. He has damned near double my engine.
But I have more than double his horsepower, and almost as much torque.
Dig?
So when you so them boys ridin' around looking cool on their choppers... remember this...
They're posing. They are out playin' dress-up... Just like 12 year-old girls, 'cept... instead of dressin' up like princesses... they're dressin' up as... well... ummm... queens.
Anyway... it was a gorgeous day... and I needed a ridin' buddy... so Curt would have to do... even if he was in bull-dyke-biker mode. I'm sure we made a pretty bizzare pair... me in my no-nonsense black ridin' gear... and him all dressed up, complete with a flamin' skull brain bucket.
I was embarrassed to be seen with him to be honest... but hell... What am I gonna do? He's got an Aprilia at home. If I give him to much crap he might not let me ride it!
Anyway... we took it easy. That is to say I only topped 125 twice. Once on accident, and once... well.. just because.
Anyway.... Pray for me... My wife got to go for a ride on that VTX a few months ago... and she loved it. She wants me to get a damned Cruiser. A cruiser... The motorcycle equivalent of walkin' around with a sock in your pants.
Leathers and a bike don't make you a biker. Hell... A cat might have kittens in the oven... but that don't make 'em biscuits.
Monday, April 04, 2005
A Fine Big Brother
For months now... we've been telling Jeb that we were bringing him a baby. We always refered to the baby as his. We talked and talked at length about how he had to help take care of his little brother.
Of course... We should know by now how Jeb works...
I guess it was Saturday night... We were all in the playroom with Jeb. Julie brought little Eli in to see everyone. Jeb looked at him for a second...then walked over to the window seat, where we have all of his stuffed animals piled up.
He put his little finger to his lips... and thoughtfully "hmmm'd"... after a minute or two, he picked out a tiny camoflaged bear... the smallest animal there... and carried it over to Eli and put it on his stomach... patted his head, gave him a kiss, and went back to playing.
This was all sponteneous... and totally voluntary. So much for the jealously of the terrible two's.
about an hour later Eli had his first official melt-down. He was to tired to eat, and to hungry to sleep.. and we were gettin' it with both barrels. We were all making over Eli... tryin' every trick in the book to calm him down... and finally Julie and I retreated upstairs with him to try to calm him down and feed the little guy.
While we were up there... Mom noticed Jeb searchin' around the house. He was looking here and there... and finally he found that little camo bear. He snatched it up, and bolted for the stairs.
When we realized what was going on we took Eli to meet Jeb at the top of the stairs... beleive me.. for a two-year-old, climbing slick wooden stairs in sock-feet, while carryin' a precious package is no easy feet.
But he did it... and we knelt down so he could see Eli... and one more time.. Jeb patted him, gave him the bear, and kissed him...
And for some reason Eli stopped cryin'.
I know... it really didn't have anything to do with the bear... or Jeb... But in some cases the gesture counts anyways. Dammit.
I love that boy.
For months now... we've been telling Jeb that we were bringing him a baby. We always refered to the baby as his. We talked and talked at length about how he had to help take care of his little brother.
Of course... We should know by now how Jeb works...
I guess it was Saturday night... We were all in the playroom with Jeb. Julie brought little Eli in to see everyone. Jeb looked at him for a second...then walked over to the window seat, where we have all of his stuffed animals piled up.
He put his little finger to his lips... and thoughtfully "hmmm'd"... after a minute or two, he picked out a tiny camoflaged bear... the smallest animal there... and carried it over to Eli and put it on his stomach... patted his head, gave him a kiss, and went back to playing.
This was all sponteneous... and totally voluntary. So much for the jealously of the terrible two's.
about an hour later Eli had his first official melt-down. He was to tired to eat, and to hungry to sleep.. and we were gettin' it with both barrels. We were all making over Eli... tryin' every trick in the book to calm him down... and finally Julie and I retreated upstairs with him to try to calm him down and feed the little guy.
While we were up there... Mom noticed Jeb searchin' around the house. He was looking here and there... and finally he found that little camo bear. He snatched it up, and bolted for the stairs.
When we realized what was going on we took Eli to meet Jeb at the top of the stairs... beleive me.. for a two-year-old, climbing slick wooden stairs in sock-feet, while carryin' a precious package is no easy feet.
But he did it... and we knelt down so he could see Eli... and one more time.. Jeb patted him, gave him the bear, and kissed him...
And for some reason Eli stopped cryin'.
I know... it really didn't have anything to do with the bear... or Jeb... But in some cases the gesture counts anyways. Dammit.
I love that boy.
Perspective on the SS Issue
How about we clear the air on this social security "crisis" eh? There seems to be some rather rampant confusion. One side refers to "private" accounts as a radical change.... the other side points out that one can choose to opt out of the private accounts... and another side thinks the idea of social security going bankrupt is great news all around.
But let's start at the begining... or maybe even a little sooner. The crisis supposedly stems from the retiring tide of baby boomers. To one devoid of critical thinking skills... and that means pretty much everyone... that's a reasonable cause.
How about we examine that?
Let's see.... a spike in the population... hrmm... Why would a spike in the population be bad for Social Security? I mean... if these people suddenly materialized at age 65, then said explaination could well plausible.
Unfortunately there is nothing plausible about the spontaneous generation of retirees... though those native to Boca Raton my think otherwise.
This wave of retiree's, earlier produces a wave of social security income via a spike in wages earned. They also produces a coresponding spike in children. So not only did they put in more money than was needed to deal with the retirees at the time, but they've also produced enough children to deal with their retirement.
There should have been a Social Security surplus for years... even decades. But there wasn't. The money was taken in, and quicky blown on programs, that were the brain children of who? The Baby Boombers themselves.
Why should we worry about the Baby Boomers Social Security, when it was them that blew their own retirment on ill-consieved government programs?
The good news is... there is a social security issue... the bad news, is it isn't nearly as bad as we're being told.
In 40 years, SS will not be bankrupt. We have a word for that sort of thing... We call it "Hyperbole". In 40 years, SS will reach a point where it cannot meet its promises.
Just because you can't buy 400 bucks a month... that don't mean you can't pay 350, or 300.
While I'm typing this up... I should also point out that the program that was sold to the American voters way back when was described as one organized with individual government savings accounts. Interstingly the average american today believes that the money they send to the government for SS is put away in some account with their name on it.
Clowns to the Left... Jokers to the Right...
Wait... what am I saying? I'm Nate. There ain't no one to Right of me.
How about we clear the air on this social security "crisis" eh? There seems to be some rather rampant confusion. One side refers to "private" accounts as a radical change.... the other side points out that one can choose to opt out of the private accounts... and another side thinks the idea of social security going bankrupt is great news all around.
But let's start at the begining... or maybe even a little sooner. The crisis supposedly stems from the retiring tide of baby boomers. To one devoid of critical thinking skills... and that means pretty much everyone... that's a reasonable cause.
How about we examine that?
Let's see.... a spike in the population... hrmm... Why would a spike in the population be bad for Social Security? I mean... if these people suddenly materialized at age 65, then said explaination could well plausible.
Unfortunately there is nothing plausible about the spontaneous generation of retirees... though those native to Boca Raton my think otherwise.
This wave of retiree's, earlier produces a wave of social security income via a spike in wages earned. They also produces a coresponding spike in children. So not only did they put in more money than was needed to deal with the retirees at the time, but they've also produced enough children to deal with their retirement.
There should have been a Social Security surplus for years... even decades. But there wasn't. The money was taken in, and quicky blown on programs, that were the brain children of who? The Baby Boombers themselves.
Why should we worry about the Baby Boomers Social Security, when it was them that blew their own retirment on ill-consieved government programs?
The good news is... there is a social security issue... the bad news, is it isn't nearly as bad as we're being told.
In 40 years, SS will not be bankrupt. We have a word for that sort of thing... We call it "Hyperbole". In 40 years, SS will reach a point where it cannot meet its promises.
Just because you can't buy 400 bucks a month... that don't mean you can't pay 350, or 300.
While I'm typing this up... I should also point out that the program that was sold to the American voters way back when was described as one organized with individual government savings accounts. Interstingly the average american today believes that the money they send to the government for SS is put away in some account with their name on it.
Clowns to the Left... Jokers to the Right...
Wait... what am I saying? I'm Nate. There ain't no one to Right of me.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Elijah John
Eli was born at 11:00pm on Wednesday... but the excitement started much earlier. See... A couple months ago, he was diagnosed with a 1st degree heart block. I didn't say anything to many folks about it... because frankly it sounds a whole heap scarier than it actually is.
It's hard to link words like "heart" and "block" to closely without causin' concern.
What it boils down to, is the boy's heart was skippin' a beat ever so often. It was something to worry about, but not something to freak out over.
Anyway... everything was going fine until about 2pm wednesday afternoon. Mom and Dad had just left, and the OB resident was in to talk to us. We were chattin' about the progress and they decided to crank up the pitosen from 8 to 10... Still not a "large" dose by any means.
In seconds Julie went from moderate contractions to titanic. Eli feel into a decel (his heart rate dropped to the 50s) and stayed there.
Within 60 seconds of the drop the room was suddenly filled with 7 nurses and 2 OB's. The pit was off instantly. Drugs were administered to stop the contractions....
For 7 minutes... the heart rate stayed down. When if finally recovered... Anesthesia was already prepped and ready for an honest to God, no shit, STAT C-Section. 10 more seconds and it would've happened.
But he recovered... we recovered... and everything went fine from then on...
Well... until the birthin'
Julie rocked. She pushed him out in just 29 minutes... but one thing should be pointed out. With each contraction, Eli's heart-rate was bottoming out... and I don't mean into the 50's either. After a couple of serious drops, they just cut her, and out he came.
It should be noted...
Had we been the Hippy Home Birthin' Types... We'd have buried two infants. My friends... I ask you to judge the company you keep when you look at this home birthin' crap. After all... My hippie neighbors... the stoners who moved here from Berkley California...
Yeah... They're the only people we know who're shocked by the fact that Julie had Eli in a hospital.
Eli was born at 11:00pm on Wednesday... but the excitement started much earlier. See... A couple months ago, he was diagnosed with a 1st degree heart block. I didn't say anything to many folks about it... because frankly it sounds a whole heap scarier than it actually is.
It's hard to link words like "heart" and "block" to closely without causin' concern.
What it boils down to, is the boy's heart was skippin' a beat ever so often. It was something to worry about, but not something to freak out over.
Anyway... everything was going fine until about 2pm wednesday afternoon. Mom and Dad had just left, and the OB resident was in to talk to us. We were chattin' about the progress and they decided to crank up the pitosen from 8 to 10... Still not a "large" dose by any means.
In seconds Julie went from moderate contractions to titanic. Eli feel into a decel (his heart rate dropped to the 50s) and stayed there.
Within 60 seconds of the drop the room was suddenly filled with 7 nurses and 2 OB's. The pit was off instantly. Drugs were administered to stop the contractions....
For 7 minutes... the heart rate stayed down. When if finally recovered... Anesthesia was already prepped and ready for an honest to God, no shit, STAT C-Section. 10 more seconds and it would've happened.
But he recovered... we recovered... and everything went fine from then on...
Well... until the birthin'
Julie rocked. She pushed him out in just 29 minutes... but one thing should be pointed out. With each contraction, Eli's heart-rate was bottoming out... and I don't mean into the 50's either. After a couple of serious drops, they just cut her, and out he came.
It should be noted...
Had we been the Hippy Home Birthin' Types... We'd have buried two infants. My friends... I ask you to judge the company you keep when you look at this home birthin' crap. After all... My hippie neighbors... the stoners who moved here from Berkley California...
Yeah... They're the only people we know who're shocked by the fact that Julie had Eli in a hospital.
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