Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
As long as it isn’t too “graphic.”
Cassy is back from vacation, and she had one observation to make that made me wince, and then wonder…
…Bourbon Street was a wreck. And not from Katrina. It was just shabby, sleazy-looking. There were piles and piles of garbage and sludge — literal sludge — on the sidewalks, in front of the restaurants and shops, and in the street.
I’m about eighty miles inland from San Francisco, which is a little bit different: It’s famous for the human waste matter piled up in the residential areas.
I’ve thought, more than once, that when a city decays to the point where fecal matter can be found lying in the public thoroughfares…and then decays some more, to the point where said product is eventually expected to be found there…some point-of-no-return has been reached. I don’t really care if I’m alone in thinking that, but I doubt like hell that I am. You just don’t live where there are piles of fresh wet feces, human or otherwise, staring you in the face. C’mon, get with it man…that’s gross.
So the graphic I’d like to see, is a ranking of major U.S. cities somehow lined up according to how entrenched the liberal democrats are in that area. How much stuff they run, how long they’ve been in charge. Boston and SF on the left side, in the middle you have the cities where they just got in day-before-yesteryear, and on the right side you decent heartland areas that are solidly Republican. And then, overlay that with where the human crap is expected to be found lying out in broad daylight, just looking at you like a lost puppy dog. Measure it in casino odds, I guess…five-to-one or whatever that if you go on a three-mile hike on a random trajectory, you’ll find some poo. Or, poo-piles-per-square-mile. That would be the Y axis of the chart, I guess. Just thinkin’ out loud here…
Because you have to understand where I’m coming from here. I do not like manure lying out where it doesn’t belong. I really don’t. I’m a parent, I’ve put up with past girlfriends and their poorly-trained cats and dogs, and I’ve done my time with misplaced crap. I’m retired. To me, this is like a baseline requirement of any household, county, township or valley that is supposedly ready to have people living in it. Baseline. No paddies. Not unless you handle livestock as part of your daily routine, and then of course only from the livestock. It’s almost like another bullet in the list of attributes any civilized society should have. Kids are toilet-trained early, and until then diapers are changed promptly. If you can’t housebreak a dog, you don’t have one. Poop-be-gone.
So back to the graph of crap out in broad daylight, versus whether the place is managed and run by donks…you know you’d see a defined and distinctive slope. You just know you would.
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