Archive for the ‘About Me and My Blog’ Category

I’m a Terrible Person Who Must Be Stopped

Friday, October 17th, 2008

Ah…fame is on its way. Perhaps in the next month or two, we’ll make Keith Olbermann’s Worst Person in the World. For now, we’ve been identified by a flog, or feminist blog, as a terrible person who must be stopped. So says Ethical Slut.

Once again, we’re reminded that our modern-day feminists don’t actually disagree with anyone about anything. They identify targets, announce to all within earshot how the target makes them feel like barfing, and then demand moral and spiritual support from their peers in their quest to virtually destroy it.

As you can see, mkfreeberg judges women for a behavior that hurts no one. Sure, he tries to make a straw man argument, that Jessica Valenti is bitter and angry and disorganized in her life (we have to protect her from herself!), when simple facts (extremely successful career as a writer at a very young age, good relationships) all say otherwise.

Jessica Valenti’s schtick is to be bitter and angry. She runs a website that is dedicated to bitter and angry behavior. If she isn’t bitter and angry in real life, and has no desire to be seen as bitter and angry, then her communication skills must be truly abysmal.

As for being disorganized — hey, here’s a challenge. Name one single curriculum…or elixir…or some other agent…possessing an inimical relationship to sexual recklessness, particularly within young people — that does not simultaneously earn for itself an inimical relationship with post-modern feminism in general, and the Feministing flog in particular. Name five of those. You probably can’t even find one. To call for sexual discretion, good judgment, monogamy, standards in selecting a partner, et al, is to become an enemy of our modern feminists. Their words say they are all about privacy, people minding their own business, etc. etc. etc. Their actions say something else.

Feminists are not about privacy. Here’s a typical flog post:

1. Embedded YouTube clip, this commercial just started airing
2. It makes me want to vomit
3. When drunk horny dangerous men watch this, they will want to…etc…etc…etc…
4. It objectifies women
5. Did I mention it makes me want to vomit? What were they thinking??
6. Here’s the contact info for you to lodge your protest. Let’s whack ’em now, and make it look like we all got offended at the same time over the same thing, without actually collaborating on this.

But “Ethical slut” isn’t lashing back in the same way as Valenti herself. No, her whole thing is to whine and moan about the double standard.

We’ve been talking about neo-conservatives as if the “neo” meant that their arbitrary condemnation of people is something new. Anyone who has studied the role of religion in our world knows that this sort of thing is as old as time. Women as commodities is as old as time too. You see it in things like honor killings, women killed because their “value” has been damaged, even through rape. Would mkfreeberg ever write a long diatribe about men who use their dicks as jackhammers, cheap meat, who disrespected their own chastity? Never. (Except in the context of “ruining” a future man’s wife).

Yup, men and women are treated differently in our society, Ethical Slut. And, as long as our society remains somewhat strong, it’s gonna stay that way. One stigma for male sluts, a different one for female sluts.

Oh, and yeah, if I saw someone put up a blog about men using their dicks as jackhammers, and then follow it up with several books on the same — especially if the books were about a societal obsession, while the individual writing said books clearly suffered from a counter-obsession — yes, I’d write a long diatribe about it. Male sluts do suffer from a stigma. It isn’t the same as the stigma for female sluts…real people don’t treat the sexes exactly the same, any more than post-modern feminists with feminists blogs do (!). But out here in the world of reality, we recognize that male sluts aren’t exactly elevated to tall pedestals and then worshipped, as feminists seem to think they are.

There’s a certain urgency involved in desiring to cool the behavior of a female slut, and there’s a good foundation of reason for this urgency. There are reasons why their family members are ashamed and sad. There’s the whole thing about women getting pregnant, something men can’t do. Feminists know that, right? And then there’s the time honored position women have in our culture, of resisting. Slowing things down. Putting the brakes on things.

That’s their role. You may not like it, but who cares…you don’t like that men have penises and women have vaginas, but that’s just the way things are. A man is sexually reckless — his behavior is put into check by the lady he is attempting to seduce. A woman is sexually reckless — that’s different. There’s nobody to put that behavior in check. I mean, what…you think the man will do it? Seriously?

I like it when feminists decry that double standard. I like it a lot, because it enables others to see how silly and ridiculous feminists really are. The keymaster-gatekeeper relationship dates back to biblical times, those times when feminists claim women were being treated like property and cattle and dirt and what-not…when in reality, this particular social custom that has spanned so many continents, in which men make things go and women make things stop, is perhaps the one social custom that has conferred the greatest respect upon the fairer sex. And put them in charge of something rather important. Civilization itself, one could argue.

Feminists want to get rid of it. I find that ironic and interesting.

Homosexuals can be wonderful parents. Sluts can be happy, productive people. People who follow religious rules to a T can stone a person to death and watch them die slowly of internal injuries and starvation. This is why you’re a terrible person who must be stopped, mkfreeberg. Is that simple enough for you to understand?

Uh…it will be, as soon as you show me some examples of those, and “prove a negative” with regard to the opposites: That homosexuals can be crappy parents, sluts can be unproductive, people who follow religious rules to a T can do wonderful things for those less fortunate. As to whether I understand how this shows I’m a terrible person who must be stoped, I’m having trouble making the connection because I didn’t say too much with regard to homosexuals being good or bad parents or sluts being productive or unproductive.

But nevermind. I think I understand why Ethical Slut would think I’m terrible, and why I must be stopped. I said something outside her value system. Time for the fire-ant treatment. Let’s all attack mkfreeberg, and can I get an amen here from my fellow nattering-nabob feminists?

Post-modern feminists, for people who are supposed to be champions of freedom, liberty and free expression, are, in their own way, quite puritanical. As I’ve said about other factions of grumbling, snarky outspoken people — they’ve exchanged one religion for another.

Shut Up and Architect

Friday, October 17th, 2008

Nobody reads this blog, of course, but for those who do there has been an unmistakable trend in which we favor individual decision-making over group-based decision-making. We haven’t been moderate about this at all; we’ve had very few good things to say about the group decision-making process, and there’s a reason for this.

Baseline Mag has an article up that happens to be about one of my career specialties; it’s called It Projects Done Right. It specifically deals with risk management in the application development process. This has to do with effective group-based decision-making. It requires a lot of tools and a lot of collaboration, which is certainly possible, but usually isn’t done. Much more typical is the kind of group-based decision-making you see in the prior article, IT Projects Done Wrong.

In that older article, you see a way of thinking that is much more in harmony with the decision-making process embraced by your average Obama/Biden supporter:

When I got back to my cubicle, I wrote up a memo detailing (as I recall) about a dozen major risks I saw with the KAID project and the proposed schedule. Here were some of the risks:

 • We didn’t yet have a sufficiently complete set of specifications and requirements for the system that would allow us to even begin to estimate the work required.
 • We didn’t have an architecture for the system yet, much less key design solutions.
 • The system was to be developed using an obscure and specialized programming language.
 • None of the team members had ever developed in that programming language; they had been to a two-week training course in it back in September, but had done no work in the language since then.
 • Why? Because the development tools – integrated development environment (IDE), libraries, and so on – were not yet available commercially. Version 1.0 of the development suite was scheduled to be released at the start of December. (That alone should be enough to make any software engineers and team leads reading this shudder.)
 • Also, no other vendor was providing development tools for that language, so there were no alternatives if any problems cropped up with the version 1.0 development suite.

And so on, and so forth. For each risk, I assessed both the probability of the risk coming to pass and the likely impact on the project if it did. I distributed this memo to the entire project team, with cc’s to the division head and the technology manager just under him.

The response? While some of the engineers on the team sent me private e-mails thanking me for pushing back and for writing the memo, the client told me – in just about these exact words – to “shut up and architect.” The client wasn’t willing to risk the business with the customer by being honest about the risks, uncertainties, and unknowns surrounding the KAID project.

Recall what Tom Hagen told Jack Woltz during the dinner conversation, after Woltz had refused to offer the movie role to Johnny Fontaine: “If your driver will take me to the airport, Mr. Corleone is a man who insists on hearing bad news immediately.” Now here, group-think can be quite adequate, and compatible with the success of the project — it can even in some cases be superior. But in order for that to happen, you’ve got to have a supporting culture which addresses the selfish whims of the individual. It has to do that in such a way that people are told, and comprehend, bad news immediately.

Simply put, people have to be rewarded for finding risks. Not to the point where the project is paralyzed as people concentrate all their energies on collecting a virtual “bounty” on identified risks. But certainly, to the point where potentially damaging risks are identified early on, in such a way that the level of effort required to mitigate them is reduced, and the effects of their residual impact can be effectively compensated.

Information Technology is a tricky thing. It doesn’t weather the challenges offered by the stagnation of group-think very well. That’s because group-think has a distinct tendency to pressure each individual to do things the same way other individuals are already doing them; and technology, when you get down to brass tacks, is the exact opposite of that.

D’JEver Notice? XI

Sunday, October 12th, 2008

Have you ever noticed how many years it’s been since George Hamilton started looking like he’s about fifty? A long time ago. Long time. Gas was less than a buck a gallon. He still looks fifty. Is that guy going to do some aging someday, or what?

Ernest Borgnine and Abe Vigoda have looked like they’re about seventy for quite awhile too. Vigoda looks seventy now…when he made Godfather, he looked seventy. Borgnine looked kinda crusty clear back when he made Bad Day at Black Rock.

First time I saw I had gray hairs, I was twenty-one. There was a lot of ’em, too. Now I’m twice the age I was back then, and believe me, every single week I’ve seen come-n-go, has left a mark. Every single one. It’s gushing outta my ears and nose, now…that’s the complaint most guys have after they’re 65 or so.

There is no justice.

To yer health, guys.

Making Yourself Useful

Wednesday, October 8th, 2008

Awhile ago The Anchoress laid down a challenge that someone should define: What’s wrong with the world? She imposed a one-hundred-word ceiling on the resulting essay, which I first honored, and then flouted. In the more loquacious version of my essay I identified a whole bunch of problems and then tied them all into a singular “root” cause. The root cause was: Us. We change the way we think to get the next piece of comfort, and in so doing make ourselves useful. Once we have that next piece of comfort, we take it for granted. We dispose of all the things we acquired, and all the things to get it, in order to chase after whatever comes next.

This is helpful when that next piece of comfort demands an accumulation of skills.

Much more often, it demands an atrophy of skills. It demands we become weaker than what we were before. So when we fail to appreciate what we have, what we end up doing is evolution via atrophy.

This leads to being over doing. Placing a greater value on what we are, than on what we do. This means we forget that love — is an action. Evil — is an action. Wealth and poverty — are actions. We forget all these; we start to visualize each other according to our states. We group each other that way. We start fighting fights that aren’t worth fighting; even worse, we avoid other fights, that actually mean everything.

Andy at Dipso Chronicles noticed the same thing, through something Mike Rowe said. You know who Mike Rowe is: He’s the “dirty jobs” guy. He has a television show that’s all about doing stuff. It doesn’t talk too much about what people are, it talks about what people do. It’s one of my favorite shows.

Renaissance man. And no, ladies, that doesn’t mean he knows how to make a butternut squash risotto while you are at the Jiffy Lube with his dirty Subaru, it means he knows how to do a lot a of shit that you women really want your men to be able to do, and then walk into a room full of REI-clad Berkely intellectuals and tear them a new one, to boot. That’s why I listen to him when he says things like “where we once encouraged each other to ‘make yourself useful,’ we now say ‘make yourself happy.'”

No kidding. How many things do you suppose that little ideological shift has screwed up? I came up with 5, but that’s because I am at work and only had about 18 seconds to think about this. Marriage, family, education, employment, and professional sports.

I think that’s what Andy is exploring here — doing, versus being. Hell, you saw it in that stupid debate a few minutes ago. Brokaw kept asking Obama and McCain what they would do. The candidates then spun the question around, and went into these litanies about what decent people they are.

This is a dead-end road. If you have what you have because of what a wonderful fellow you are, instead of the things you have done, this is something that is constantly up for review. You do not want to have a bunch of cars and a nice house jammed full of pretty things because you are a nice guy. Someone, somewhere, in a position of authority can get up one morning and decide — hey, that guy isn’t a nice guy anymore. He’s something of a jerk. Bam, you lose all your stuff.

McCain and Obama already live in that world. That’s why they underwhelmed so many tonight.

No, you want to be defined by what you do. It seems to suck green nickels some days when you can’t get everything done you want to get done — but that way, once you get things done, it’s locked in.

You know, now that I give this another think-or-three, that’s another one for Andy’s list. The subprime thing. That’s exactly how we got there. All these nice, wonderful, poor people who’ve been treated so bad, they deserve houses. How unfair it is to judge ’em by what they’ve done! Fast forward a few years, and we’ve got this massive financial crisis. It is a sinkhole crammed full of worthless paper. The paper is worthless because of a handful of years wasted evaluating people according to what they were, rather than what they did.

Or, to use Andy’s terminology, we demanded that people become happy instead of becoming useful. I’m pretty sure he’s exploring the same thing we explored a few months back. We haven’t changed our position in the last few months that this is what’s screwing up the world. So, by implication, we agree with him and Mike Rowe.

Update: We have attracted the attention of The Anchoress, probably through a trackback. She says our post is interesting. That’s what all the good-lookin’ girls said about us back in high school, they wrote in our annual “you made the year so…interesting.” Anyway, welcome, Anchoress readers. An additional reason why this might be worthy of mention, is Anchoress has seen fit to re-issue her question. She’s ready, willing and able to set the “blogosphere” on fire with this stuff, she’s done it before.

Anchoress, in turn, has attracted the attention of the other blogger super-diva Cassy Fiano. We know we’re of like mind with blogger friend Cas, because once she free-lanced on what’s wrong with the world, her thoughts were nearly identical to ours:

Once, it was understood that you could do anything… if you were willing to work for it. Americans now expect everything handed to them on a silver platter. Not eating out and buying used cars was called “sacrifice” last night. Americans have no concept of hardship, of sacrifice, of responsibility. And when we abandon the will to work, we lose the American spirit. Its in the eagerness to cut-and-run in Iraq, the panic over times being economically a little harder… sucking it up and working for the long run is unheard of. And that attitude is hurting us.

Anyway, this is a happy accident, in our mind. Can you think of a better time to ponder, seriously, what exactly is wrong with the world? Obama and McCain hit the campaign trail and rip into each other; the speech of each, is that the other (and others like him) is/are running around like a loose cannon and that is what is wrong with the world. You’d think the first time they were stuck in a room together, it would end with bloody entrails dangling from the light fixtures. Bloody entrails of one, or the other, perhaps both.

And instead you get the ultimate snooze-fest. In fact, they spent so much time agreeing with each other, the diligent observer is hard-pressed to name too many points of what’s-wrong and how-to-fix-it upon which they truly disagree. These are the guys who, together, are supposed to be representing the rest of us. If that be the case, and I think it is, then we have the ultimate dichotomy: We’ve got lots and lots of passion that something is terribly wrong with the world, and we haven’t got the slightest clue what exactly it is…nor can we claim to have spent too much of our energies earnestly trying to figure it out.

Ms. Fiano then goes on to list some of the things that are right with the world, pointing to an older post of Dr. Helen’s for her inspiration.

Not In It For The Attention, Mind You… XXI

Wednesday, October 1st, 2008

Nobody reads this blog, the saying goes. Except, since we started distinguishing ourselves that way, people have been coming by to read it. And that trickle of traffic has been slowly but surely rising throughout the last four years…in that time, more than one other blogger has come by to say “Hey, I’ve got the real blog that nobody reads!” But then they respect a sort of virtual trademark that we don’t really have, and allow us to continue to claim the tagline as our own.

That’s a good thing. “The Blog That Nobody Reads” has a sort of slippery, surreal definition to it; it doesn’t mean “no traffic.” It’s rather like the literal interpretation of “utopia”: noplace. House of Eratosthenes refers to thinking in such a logical way, that you gift yourself with being able to perceive things that ought to be, according to convention, beyond your grasp. “The Blog That Nobody Reads” indicates that nowadays we don’t do this so much. Nowadays, we settle for being told what to think by others.

That, and an informal blogging policy that here, we don’t mold and shape what we say in order to get more traffic. That’s how you fall into the trap. That’s how you end up saying silly bullshit things. Like, for example, that fire has never melted steel before — and a lot of other stuff like that.

But of course we do have Sitemeter. And we pay attention to it. It does have meaning to us. We do like making friends, and we’ve made some good ones here. Also, the numbers are doing some interesting things. They tell a story of readers who pop on in, and make it a point to keep on keepin’-on. You nobodies, it seems, are real creatures of habit. The daily hit total climbs or else it does not climb…on the days when it does not climb, it stays where it was the day before almost precisely. I mean by that, within five or ten hits, out of a daily total of between four and five hundred.

We are, evidently, being incorporated into daily routines of strangers.

Now, this is a source of interest, and it also inspires hope. We do not write, in these parts, for the benefit of readers with diminished attention spans…we absolutely do not do that. We labor, we linger, we inspect, we analyze, and when we engage in process-of-elimination, we tediously enumerate all of the possibilities. This is a cardinal sin, of sorts. We break rules of writing in favor of rules of sound engineering. And it gets pretty damn dry, sometimes, we think.

ThumbnailLike right now.

Anyway, September of ’08, although no doubt somewhat modest according to the average among four-year-old blogs, was nevertheless a record for us, and caps a trend of record-breaking over the last year (click on the thumbnail to the right for more detail). We look forward to hearing from our new readers, for in the end, what we’re advocating is not quite so much political conservatism, but simply — thinking like a grown-up. That makes for better friendships than political ideology. And if this is just a slice of Americana, perhaps our weary nation is outgrowing what had become previously become a national pastime of thinking like a spoiled brat. Maybe we’ve just outgrown the bullshit. Maybe we’re just so fed up with being told stupid idiotic things…like we never should’ve gone into Iraq because Saddam Hussein had no weapons and therefore was just a harmless, lovable old teddy bear who’d never hurt anyone…or when your President is being questioned in a disposition under oath, he gets to decide what answers are nobody’s business and therefore when he gets to lie his cheating, perjuring ass off…or that the Government set up explosives around the World Trade Center to justify the passage of the PATRIOT Act and the War on Terror…or GOOD SIR YOU MUST CONTACT ME AT EARLIEST IMMEDIATELY I HAVE 25,000,000 TO BE WIRED TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT HAVE A GOOD KIND REGARDS LOOKING FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOU…

…well, maybe we’re at that point you get after a lot of drinking, when you can feel your body start to be overwhelmed by the toxins. When the room starts spinning — it’s just not fun anymore. Maybe we’re sick and tired of the nonsense.

The possibility exists that it’s this whole subprime/loan/mess/bailout thing that really put us over the top in that department. That’s a pleasant idea to entertain, for us, because there’s a wonderful example of thinking like a child, and being rewarded with exactly the kind of disaster you get after the children have been put in charge of things. We already know for sure, that this particular event was the inspiration of our loquacious ramblings snagging a “quote-of-the-day” award for us this month.

Hooters & HorsesIt’s just a theory, at this point: We, as in the Big “We” that represents all of us, or a majority consensus therein — are tired of the bullshit, and we’re tired of the lies. If we can’t make ’em go away, we want them to at least improve in grade. Stop trying to fool us with tidbits of nonsense that can only fool complete imbeciles. We have grown to the point where we are ready to test what we are told, with meaningful tests, in the moment in which we are told it.

We’re demanding something better than bumper-sticker slogans that sound good, and reflect juvenile populist rage and nothing more.

Right now.

And Sen. Obama’s going to see if he can get elected as our President. Heh!

Ah well, this can still turn out any which way. But for now, The Chosen One is in a spot in which I wouldn’t want to be if I were him. I like my theory. Sure I like it because the outcome that would substantiate it, is one I find pleasing…not necessarily because I’d bet a lot of money on its likelihood. But I’ll take pleasing. There’s only one way to test it, anyhow, and that is to wait another five weeks. We’re ready to test it that way.

Welcome, all you nobodies not stopping by to not read the Blog That Nobody Reads. Take the time to look around, and write in. Introduce yourselves. We don’t bite.

Right Wing News Poll on the Bailout

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

Nobody reads this blog — of course! — but we were nevertheless invited to participate in an informal poll of right-wing blogs by Right Wing News. As we responded, we were politely requested to keep a wrap on things until the deadline passed…with the results now posted, the coast is clear to unveil our responses, complete with notes, snarky remarks, etc., exactly as we shipped ’em off.

1) Is the PRIMARY cause of this crisis…
A) Deregulation, market forces, and Wall Street?
B) Government interference in the market?

B), and anyone who chooses A) is simply demonstrating they haven’t been paying attention. To this issue, or any other issue related.

93% of respondents agreed.

2) Do you support the bailout?
A) Yes
B) No

B). Although I understand the situation may very well be bad enough, that compromise will be necessary lest a calamity have a devastating effect on everyone. Government interference, after all, is all about lashing everyone together. That is the intent, and it is impossible for that not to be the ultimate effect; so I have to acknowledge we’re probably all in the same boat, by design. I believe the very least that’s going to have to happen is some kind of low-interest loan, hopefully one secured with collateral. Good collateral. Not the moose-feces mortgage-paper that started this sinkhole in the first place.

71% of respondents agreed.

3) Politically, is it smarter for Republicans in Congress to support or oppose the bailout?
A) Support
B) Oppose

I believe if my answer to 2) was codified as an official policy, the ultimate effect would be a complete or near-complete salvaging of this mess PLUS unprecedented popular support. Why nobody has thought of it, probably has to do with powerful interests who’d be hostile to it — plus — a beltway mentality that hinders even invigorated, educated minds from seeing the obvious.

In the interest of answering your question unambiguously so you can tabulate my responses easily, I choose B).

69% of respondents agreed.

4) If John McCain signs on to the bailout, does it help or hurt his chances of getting elected?
A) Help
B) Hurt

At this point McCain and Obama are in a fight over undecideds. I refused to support him until late August, because I know in politics the undecideds are the people who — ironically — decide things. (grin) Now that he’s picked Sarah Palin, and as a direct consequence I have declared my support for him, I’ve used up whatever trivial influence I have as a registered voter as well as as a blogger. (Yeah, tremble in fear before the righteous fury of The Blog That Nobody Reads.)

To put it more concisely, the folks like me who signed on because of Sarah Palin, are in. Or else, if we’re not, nobody cares. McCain continues to have problems with his “base,” but these problems pale in consideration to the more urgent business of winning converts from the middle, and from behind enemy lines. Anyone who’s undecided at this point — they are highly unlikely to be unimpressed with McCain’s opposition to the bailout. They’re more likely to be impressed with that “rising up above bipartisanship to move the country forward” snake oil. Therefore, I would have to choose A).

I hate like the dickens to admit it, but McCain would have to be a fool to try to win converts away from Bob Barr, at the expense of winning converts away from the guy who has a far better shot at walking away with this whole thing. It would be the right thing to do to oppose the bailout, but it would be stupid politics. I hope he just comes up with an unorthodox and ingenious answer of some kind, that’s good for the country, just like he did on August 29.

55% of respondents agreed with me in choosing A).

McCain Can’t Use Computers

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

…and therefore should not be the next President. So says 23/6:

Not only do we approve of ads making fun of McCain’s ignorance of computers, we think the message should be taken up a notch. Here’s another “McCain sucks at computers” ad that we think should be disseminated far and wide.

We at The Blog That Nobody Reads, are happy to help. We look forward to everyone understanding how clever you are. Of course, by “clever,” what we really mean is…aw…nevermind, on with the show.

Stay classy, libs.

Incidentally, for what it’s worth, I’ve been the “resident computer ekspurt” wherever I am, at home, at play, at work, wherever, for an entire lifetime now. Not by choice either. And throughout all those years, I’ve hit the keyboard exactly like that. It’s an awesome tension reliever and it always works. The laptop on which I’m typing this is missing a caps lock button because of this patented technique (wireless card wasn’t hooking up, and it was pissing me off).

So liberals think you gingerly and properly press the keys when you know what you’re doing, huh. Okay, then. Conservatives must pound on keyboards exactly the same way liberals pound on people.

Like I said. Stay classy.

100,000

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

Someone hit this blog — which, as we say all the time, nobody actually ever reads — from the University of Kansas Medical Center. They landed here at 10:28:17 PDT and hung around for one minute and 58 seconds, using IE7 on a Microsoft Windows NT platform.

That was our hundred-thousandth hit.

I should clarify that this is counting from our implementation of Sitemeter, in April of ’06. The blog has actually been around since a year and a half before that. But that’s alright. Nobody ever reads it.

Thanks for the traffic, nobodies. Hope you keep on not stopping by to not read anything.

SNUL

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

We do not SNUL here. SNUL is an acronym for “Sorry, No Updates Lately” and it refers to the process of chewing up enormous chunks of the interwebs to help contribute to a singular message…”sorry there haven’t been any updates lately.” After porn, MySpace pages, and grandstanding screeds about President Bush being an idiot, SNUL pages account for the greatest portion of what’s out there.

Besides of which, we are The Blog That Nobody Reads…which means we have a charming lack of enthusiasm on the question of who’s reading, why they’re here, etc. We just spout our stuff. If we get hit by a bus, or kidnapped by aliens, there will be no “goodbye.” We’ll just stop posting.

So lately we’ve been getting off-line messages asking why we’re not updating. Vagaries of life. We actually have very few time slots throughout the day in which we can get our postings done — it tends to be at the extreme ends, after we roll out of bed, and just before we roll back in — and personal events have consumed those. What few cycles we can eek out there, we’ve been spending on the fascinating conversation about individualism and collectivism, over here.

Besides of which, in spite all of what’s going on, none of it is really hitting my hot button. We have the Fannie and Freddy thing, but to me that’s just a rehash of all the other trouble that’s been caused by crossing our capitalistic system with experimental portions of Marxism…and if the resulting hybrid turns out to be a Frankenstein monster, blame all the ugliness and defects on capitalism instead of on the Marxism we just got done injecting in.

We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.

Capitalism is supposedly to blame for the high cost of housing that comes from rent controls…which are anti-capitalistic. And the high cost of health care that results from excessive regulation, torts and price controls…which are anti-capitalistic. And for the oil and gas market, which is inherently anti-capitalistic. And for the problems with our education system — which is anti-capitalistic. Now we’re blaming it for the housing bubble. Which we made by forsaking capitalism, AGAIN, in favor of some monstrosity hybrid.

As far as how we’re screwing ourselves over this time around, I really can’t do the subject justice compared to Dr. Melissa Clouthier’s turn at it.

So. SNUL. Don’t worry, we’ll be back.

Not In It For The Attention, Mind You… XX

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008

…but The Blog That Nobody Reads is #26 on the list of My Favorite 40 Blogs For 2008 (Version 3.0) at Right Wing News.

Yay!

One Dozen Yummy Things

Sunday, September 7th, 2008

Because it’s a Sunday. What the hell are you doing sitting in front of a computer anyway?

And you’ve had enough of Sarah Palin, Joe Biden, that old guy, and He Who Is The Enlightened Being. We still have two months to bicker about it. For now, think about things that are fun to eat & drink; it’s good fer ya. Then go outside. And maybe go shopping.

1. My barbeque sauce recipe

I’m glad that web page is still there after all those years so I can give proper credit. I downloaded that for the first time seven years ago, and have been hooked ever since. The addiction has spread to everyone with whom I have shared the results.

This is a magical recipe. Tastes like something specially built for beef when you put it on beef. Tastes like something specially built for pork or chicken when you put it on pork or chicken. That’s not an easy feat at all in the art of barbeque-sauce-recipe-inventin’.

1/2 cup sugar
1/4 tsp. ground oregano
1/2 tsp. ground thyme
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp. cornstarch
1/2 cup vinegar
1 cup molasses
1 cup ketchup
1 cup prepared mustard
2 tbsp. oil
Combine sugar, oregano. thyme, salt, pepper, cayenne pepper, and cornstarch in a small saucepan. Stir in enough vinegar to make a paste. Combine molasses, ketchup, mustard, oil and remaining vinegar; add to herb paste. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Remove from heat; cool completely. Pour into a glass jar; cover tightly.

2. Moselland Riesling

3. Chimay Grand Reserve, Blue Label

For extra-special occasions.

If you can store a plain pint glass in the freezer all day long, and then fill it with Chimay all the way up to the rim with no head…you’re a real man.

4. Tri-Tip From Bel Air, marinated in BBQ flavor

Yup, you can buy it that way. They’ll dump the whole mess in a plastic bag for you and you can take it home marinating like that.

Pour the excess marinade in a sauce pan and place on low heat while the roast is cooking. When ready to serve, slice in thin slices and dunk each one in the sauce pan, once with each of the two sides facing down.

5. Basic Crepes

Had an awesome recipe for these, too, which used vanilla, cooking oil and cinnamon. Can’t find it anywhere. I have a nine-year-old Palm Pilot database that has been ported over to four or five different platforms, intact, at least in theory intact…it was in there somewhere, and now no longer is. Double-dog damn. Oh well, I’ll have to get ahold of another one.

Favorite fillings: Cherry pie, apple cinnamon, powdered-sugar & butter.

6. St. Pauli Girl

For when there isn’t enough money in the kitty for the Chimay Grand Reserve.

Thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, of course.

7. Villa Mt. Eden Tall Trees Cabernet Sauvignon

8. Pineapple

It’s on the list of things that make me smile, Item #23.

9. Big planks of salmon with my “mudbutter” recipe slathered all over it

1/2 stick (4 Tbsp) of butter
2 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp oregano
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp fresh ground black pepper
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

Place contents in large mortar, smoosh together with pestal. Leave skin on the salmon flank, smear this all over the other side. Wrap in aluminum foil, put over high flame for a total of 15 to 20 minutes (adjust for weight), turning every five minutes.

10. Homemade biscuits

11. Home pride buttermilk bread

12. Three Pecker Billy Goat coffee from Raven’s Brew

Whole bean, of course. Ground up into the consistency of fine-milled flour, seconds before the piping hot water hits it, while the birds are still snoozing away.

Hawkins Needs Shushman

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

Nobody reads this blog, but among those who skim it once in awhile it’s known that my favorite superpower has nothing at all to do with time travel, flight, bullets bouncing off the chest, or magical ropes that make people tell the truth.

My fantasy hero is Sushman, a mutant with the power to wave his hand and bring a virtual “cone of silence” down upon noisy evildoers. That’s the guy I wanna be. And with further outings of yours truly, Shushman gradually accumulates other, secondary powers, like the ability to turn skateboard wheels square and to telekinetically yank sagging trousers above butt crack.

When Shushman is walking along and he sees a wad of sticky gum lying on the sidewalk, waiting to adhere itself onto an innocent pedestrian’s shoe…he can cast a magic spell on the gum. The gum will then pry itself off the sidewalk, fly through the air, hunt down the original chewer who was responsible for so carelessly discarding it, and re-insert itself back into his mouth.

Shushman can point at two people having a conversation across a great distance, like say for example across a parking lot from each other, and use telekinesis to force the two conversationalists to come within ten feet of each other so they don’t have to keep asking each other to repeat themselves.

Shushman can point at a little tiny annoying li’l yip-dog being carried around in a purse, and make it instantly weigh a hundred times more. Not expand in size. Just weigh more. Arf! **klunk**

John Hawkins of Right Wing News, it would appear, could stand a few visits and escorts from Shushman.

Question: “What are your top 10 pet peeves?” — Don_cos

Answer: Not in any particular order,
* People who talk or have crying babies in a movie theater.
* People talking on a cell phone while driving.
:
* People who play their bass way too loud.
* Conspiracy theorists.
* People wearing their pants way too low.
* Pointless meetings.

Can’t help you out with the truthers or the pointless meetings, good citizen. But humming from exactly the same pew in the church with a lot of that other stuff.

And I got a feeling it isn’t just me & Hawkins.

The Continuing Adventures of Shushman

Monday, August 11th, 2008

About a year ago I daydreamed on the pages of this blog, which nobody actually reads anyway, about what superpowers I would want to have if I were a superhero. The superhero I invented was the dream of middle-aged men everywhere: SHUSHMAN. In my superhero daydream, I run around town in a leotard with a towel wrapped around my neck and a big “S” on my chest, and a mask over my face. If some convertible drives by me with the bass cranked way up with that “BOOM…BOOM…BOOM CHICKA BOOM” buzzing away, I just wave my hand at it and — glorious, glorious silence.

Ahhhhh…….

ShushI’m the first one who’s ever had that fantasy? Hah. First one to write it down, maybe. But you want to be Sushman too, you know you do. A cone of silence, thrown down in a fraction of a second, around…anything. Car commercials on the boob tube cranked up four times as loud as the program you were watching. Bratty kids in the grocery store. The guy at the company picnic who had way too much to drink. A randomly selected moron with lots of syllables coming out of his gullet but with nothing to say. Shushman waves his hand and restores order.

Just doin’ my job, citizen.

I said at the time I’d give up immortality, flying, all that good stuff if I could just wave at a television set (admit it, the remote control is always a good fifteen feet away when the situation arises), and instantly be enveloped by that golden silence.

My son protests that this would be useless for, say, foiling a bank robbery.

My reply is that at least they’d be forced to rob the damn bank quietly. That’s just kind of where I am right now. You want to build a nuclear bomb and threaten the entire planet — go ahead. Just don’t make any noise.

But I must say, The Squeeze and I went to Lake Tahoe this weekend to meet Kidzmom and pick up my son for the school year. And after being around these things called “people” for the first time in a few months, I have a confession to make about Shushman. My confession is…he’s going to have just a few more super powers. Not many. Just a few.

Shushman, for example, can do interesting things with car alarms. He’s got a mental-telepathy ability to figure out where the owner of the car is, with the alarm that’s going off. He can teleport himself to wherever that owner is, be he asleep or be he awake, Then he can grab the keys that go to that vehicle and ram them where the sun don’t shine, as they say.

And then of course he can silence that car alarm.

Shushman can point at a young man’s trousers, and telepathically yank them up above his butt cheeks. From up to sixty feet away. Point…yank. Yes, this superpower is still needed in 2008. Because droopy pants are still out there after all these years. I’m likin’ that superpower. Call it a long-distance wedgie.

Shushman can point at a skateboard, and make its wheels square. Yeah, we need that one too.

When Shushman is walking along and he sees a wad of sticky gum lying on the sidewalk, waiting to adhere itself onto an innocent pedestrian’s shoe…he can cast a magic spell on the gum. The gum will then pry itself off the sidewalk, fly through the air, hunt down the original chewer who was responsible for so carelessly discarding it, and re-insert itself back into his mouth.

Shushman can point at two people having a conversation across a great distance, like say for example across a parking lot from each other, and use telekinesis to force the two conversationalists to come within ten feet of each other so they don’t have to keep asking each other to repeat themselves.

Shushman can point at a little tiny annoying li’l yip-dog being carried around in a purse, and make it instantly weigh a hundred times more. Not expand in size. Just weigh more. Arf! **klunk**

The other thing Shushman can do? I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. In a grocery store, Shushman has the ability to seize telekinetic control of a grocery cart sitting in the middle of an aisle…and shove it to one side. With clumsy brute force, not surgical precision. Shove it so it makes a good dent in about three rows of cardboard Corn Flakes boxes.

Shushman can lift cars about twenty feet off the ground. Only when they’re moving, though. In the passing lane. Five miles below the speed limit. Hey, maybe he’ll put ’em back down again right-side-up, maybe he won’t.

“I Don’t Want Michigan To Die. It’s Home.”

Tuesday, August 5th, 2008

Dr. Melissa Clouthier’s requiem for her home state of Michigan. Fire it up the flatscreen tonight, folks. Commit it to memory, just like Washington’s Farewell Address. Live it, learn it, love it.

When I moved to Detroit seventeen years ago, I was struck by this weird succotash of concrete jungle urban decay, and the beauty of neo-colonial classic architecture that began with the suburbs, on or about 16 Mi. Road. I had never seen anything like it. And half a year later, the following summer, was the first time (software developer, remember?) I really stepped out of the office for any length of time. Drove ol’ Bessie up and around the “mitten,” saw Batman II, spent the night with an eccentric but beautiful young barmaid in Cheboygan, jetted over from there to Sault Ste. Marie, and just really did all the the partying I should’ve been doing in the half-year leading up to that. Ah, it was really all the sightseeing I would do in that area for the entire year I lived there. And I still have regrets about that. I regret not taking a camera. Lots of young-mans’ indiscretions, committed within hours of each other.

Great googly moogly, what a beautiful country.

Geographical locations are just like women. I don’t know if it’s politically incorrect to say that now…I suspect it is…but I don’t give a good goddamn, it’s true. Ranking them is quite useless. They’re all special. If I had my life to live over again, it would be missing something if I didn’t swing by Yreka, CA, Portland, OR, Kirkland, WA, Coure d’Laine, ID, Fargo, ND, and on and on and on…and Cheboygan, MI. No, not because of the barmaid. She was quite a good looker, but my real memories (aw gee, I hope to hell she’s not reading this) are of those three hundred miles plus-or-minus of lush greenery. Wonderful, wonderful place. I hope to go back there again someday.

I digress.

The real lesson has to do with liberal policies destroying places. I saw it in the winter of ’91 to ’92, the coldest one Detroit saw in some 25 years at the time. Back then, the state was conservative (Engler) but the city was liberal and corrupt as all holy hell (Young).

It was bad. Heap big bad. But the badness started on 8 Mi. Road back then, and headed south. If you were on foot and darkness was falling, it might’ve been a good idea to be somewhere north of 12 Mi. Road by the time the sun set. But anyway, I guess it got worse than that since then.

It didn’t have to be this way. Egregious taxation results in disastrous economic consequences. There’s no avoiding it. The Wall Street Journal summed things up nicely (go read the whole thing to get a perspective of how taxes can kill a state):

The tax hikes have done nothing but accelerate the departures of families and businesses. Michigan ranks fourth of the 50 states in declining home values, and these days about two families leave for every family that moves in. Making matters worse is that property taxes are continuing to rise by the rate of overall inflation, while home values fall. Michigan natives grumble that the only reason more people aren’t blazing a path out of the state is they can’t sell their homes. Research by former Comerica economist David Littmann finds that about the only industry still growing in Michigan is government. Ms. Granholm’s $44.8 billion budget this year further fattened agency payrolls.

Michigan’s unemployment rate as of June was 8.5%. It will get worse as GM makes more cuts.

And that’s another thing: the Democrats, for all their lovey lovey talk seem to not understand that high gas prices brutalize the families they ostensibly care about so much. With high gas prices, just getting to work is an issue because money is already tight. Democrats, Obama leading them, seem to think that another industry bailout by the government (taking more money from taxpayers) will solve this problem, but it just creates more of the same. Then, high gas prices change consumer behavior–i.e. they buy smaller vehicles. Plants making bigger vehicles close. The guys working at those assembly plants, the guys working at sub-contractors manufacturing parts for the plants, and the smaller businesses that supply parts for the parts, fold. Jobs are lost. And when jobs are lost, taxes aren’t paid. And then the government services can’t be sustained just when people need them the most. Here’s what the Heritage Foundation found:

Analysts at The Heritage Foundation recently examined how going from $3 and $4 retail to $5 and $6 retail per gallon of gasoline would affect the U.S. economy. If prices continue to rise at an accelerated pace over the course of a year:

Total employment would decrease by 586,000 jobs, Disposable personal income would decrease by $532 billion, Personal consumption expenditure would decrease by $400 billion, and Personal savings would be spent to help pay the cost.

The contrast couldn’t have been greater in Michigan: gorgeous landscape, bereft of people. Again, I am reminded of Upstate New York, where the death occurred fifteen years ago. The Finger Lakes region possesses the striking loveliness that characterizes Michigan. And yet, these once vibrant areas are devoid of industry and the people who fuel it.

Well, now.

At least we’re making these rich, greedy, evil businesses pay for what they’re doing to these poor people, right? By that, I mean, those awful things businesses do to people. *cough* Give ’em jobs *cough*

That is, after we blame all the suffering poor people do, on those businesses.

Still waiting for someone to explain to me, how jobs are made, and how products are brought to the market with lower price tags, by means of artificial barriers that make it artificially more expensive to do those things. How capitalism is made more painless, after it’s been mucked with by people who just want to make the process more difficult for all concerned. How’s that work again?

I have been waiting a very long time for that explanation, but I’m a patient man.

Opposites and Undefineds

Tuesday, August 5th, 2008

Opposite Word:
A word put in common use to describe exactly the opposite of what it is supposed to mean.

Some opposite words:
 • Everyone;
 • Science;
 • Diversity;
 • Tolerance;
 • Skeptic(ism).


Undefined Word:
A word that is loaded with meaning, supposedly, but in fact is lacking in practical definition. The litmus test is not whether you can find it in the dictionary; it’s, if you can reach a plurality of people who use the word frequently, and query them in isolation about what the word means. Will you get back a number of definitions smaller than the number of people you queried? If not, then the word can’t really be used to communicate anything. With an undefined word, you’ll find there is very little cultural agreement, or none at all, on the actual meaning.

Undefined words tend to be used often, to the point of becoming cliches. So most undefined words were useful once, and then abused into uselessness. Unfortunately, after they reach that point, the tendency is to abuse them a whole lot more.

Some undefined words:
 • Torture;
 • Greed;
 • Feminist;
 • Chauvinist;
 • Racist;
 • Fascist;
 • Wealthy.

You Probably Aren’t Using IE

Friday, August 1st, 2008

…if you’re reading this.

Blogger friend Phil brought it to our attention that Internet Explorer is crashing when the front page to House of Eratosthenes is being loaded. Adding to the concern, for us, is that Cassy Fiano’s page, where we’re guest-blogging this week, also wouldn’t load in IE. And other blogs do.

Hmmmmmmm….

Well, the first thing we did was save an off-line copy of the front page, and then go in with a text editor and hack away at the HTML code line by line, until enough code was missing that the problem would stop happening. And this narrowed it down to the sidebar, specifically, the Sitemeter widget. The problem was confirmed when I loaded up yet another blog, one in which I don’t have these blogging responsibilities, and it crashed IE just as reliably — also through the Sitemeter widget.

I found three entries in the Sitemeter support/announcements blog that might relate to this…

Visit or Page View Counter Display, July 31: For those of you who currently use the SiteMeter Icon that displays the total visitors to your site we wanted to let you know about some forthcoming changes to this feature…

Scheduled Outage August 3, 2008 (SM1, S17, S21, S26, S36, S37, S38, S39, S40, S41, S46 and S47), July 29th: Greetings, Our hosting provider has scheduled an outage on August 3, 2008 from 12:01 AM – 05:00 AM to consolidate their network into a single autonomous system. The following servers will be affected…

Sitemeter Icons Vanishing, July 17th: For the next 30 – 45 days we will be testing our servers and databases in preparation for the launch of our new SiteMeter platform…

There. Now you know everything I know.

Unless you’re using IE, in which case you’re not reading this.

Cross-posted, out of necessity, at Cassy’s to help reduce confusion for us all.

Update 8/2/08: Here’s your reading material. Thanks to Gerard for letting us know this morning it was starting to pop up.

Wired: Web Sites Using SiteMeter Are Crashing with Internet Explorer

The Inquisitr: Site Meter causing Internet Explorer failure

Mashable: Attention Sitemeter Users: Your Site is Down

Northwest Progressive Institute Advocate: SiteMeter causing blogs and websites to crash in Microsoft’s Internet Explorer

Veal Calves

Friday, August 1st, 2008

Me, in outgoing e-mail correspondence earlier today:

A nation of veal calves. Except, if you move a real veal calf from a 4×7 pen to a 6×9 pen, he wouldn’t complain.

The more eager people are to talk about their desire for “change,” the less they really want it.

Memo For File LXXII

Saturday, July 26th, 2008

Three Bitter Beers, Pretty Good!It’s Friday night and that means it’s time to find something worth discussing that doesn’t have anything whatsoever to do with him.

So how’s this…

Two weekends ago I showed up at a “company” picnic with some of the folks who used to be my work colleagues. My old boss’ boss is a big fan of fancy beers. Takes tours around Germany, drives down to San Francisco to buy up the imports and the indie domestics…always has interesting stories to tell. Loves to talk about it.

This isn’t the boss who died at home a few months ago. His boss.

Anyway…I brought over a 750ml wine bottle of my famous homemade barbeque sauce, and bartered it away for three of his best, which were ice-cold. That July day was especially hot, and I gulped down all three the minute I got home. All three had that bitter, Bite You In The Back Of The Tongue taste.

It was a good outing, including some folks who hadn’t been in the office in years. Gathered before 11:00, didn’t say our good-byes until almost three in the afternoon. As for the beer brands, they’re plenty good enough to jot down for future shopping excursions, at my local spot as well as online.

Now you know too. And tomorrow’s Saturday.

You’re welcome.

Update: You know, there’s an interesting segue on this theme of beer, because earlier this evening I was screwin’ around on Google looking for beer-related things…and what did I find? Yet another “Can I Get An Amen Here” screed at feministing. What are we being directed by our feminist matriarchs to find reprehensible this time? (This time, it should be noted, was eleven months ago…but…)

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE…

(Cymbals clash!)

A commercial about a mechanized women producing ice cold frosty delicious beer. Presumably, for a guy. Grrrr! Outrage!

You’ll be pleased to know there’s a thread under it with fifty-plus comments, mostly from slave-feminist, ass-kissing toadies. Oh, yes! We’ll be writing to Heineken right away, using out very angriest e-stationery!

I don’t know. I was single and available a few years back, at a fairly seasoned age for being in the market, and I had a sudden revelation about women, or rather, my feelings about them: After all I’d been through I wasn’t that interested in what I’d be able to catch, as what I’d be able to avoid. I didn’t want to filter out any quality material, but somehow I just knew if I could ask exactly the right questions, I’d make a much more successful match than most single people in their late thirties. And that’s exactly what happened.

My scoring system wasn’t exactly a simple thing, but basically it distilled down to this:

WE ARE AT HOME AND I ASK YOU TO BRING ME A BEER. You…

A. Bring it. Max points!
B. Bring it, provided I say “please.” Just as many points as A.
C. Bring it, but expect me to bring you things when you ask me too. Yes, just as many points as A and B. Really. Yeah, what a chauvinist knuckle-dragger, huh?
D. Bring it, but only if it’s your “turn,” after keeping careful track of who owes what to who. MAJOR loss of points. Down to almost zero. No interest, whatsoever, in being in a relationship like that ever again.
E. Don’t bring it, because your identity has come to be attached to not doing things like that. Negative points. Sure you’ll make some other dude happy. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.

Feminism, to me, has come to be a bunch of women who are “E.” People keep telling me I’m wrong about that, and then I see fifty comments in a row like what you’ll find under that post.

Who’s the target market for this ad? Really, really misogynistic futurists?

How much beer does Heineken think Newt Gingrich is going to buy?


Yep, and this commercial is supposed to appeal to women too. Because it is, after all, all about the menz. If you drink this beer, it shows that you are willing to put up with this shit, and maybe a little of the sexxxay robotness will rub off on you. Hooray, instant approval from men! Just what you always wanted.


The robot is clearly designed to look like a woman in order to play into the stereotype that the primary female role is to be a server/hostess, both in the household and out. That is why it’s misogyny.

There, see what I mean? They’re talking in circles about “sexxxay robotness” but the robot got herself in trouble simply by doing something for a man; something about a “primary female role.”

That’s how you make the leap. From Do Not Establish An Identity That Has To Do With Helping A Man — to — Establish An Identity That Has To Do With Not Helping A Man. They set out in their feminist endeavors to cleave down a single silk hair the long way, and the intellectual tool they use to do it is not a scalpel, or a butter knife, but a sledge hammer. Naturally — they fail. Before you can say “Can I Have A Beer?” they’re chiding each other for even thinking about getting a man a beer, never mind if he just rescued them from a bad part of town with a flat tire, opened that darn pickle jar for them that just wouldn’t budge, adopted their half-dozen whelps they had by some long-forgotten high school scumbucket, saved their favorite kitty from a starving pit bull, or…said “please.” None of that matters; you’re simply not supposed to do nice things for a man, period.

Supposedly, it’s more complicated than that. I don’t think so. I really don’t think so. There is no surgical precision here. Any & all enthusiasm along the lines of pitching in and helping out, to live life in a spirit of true partnership with one another…is out the window. Pitched overboard. Tossed into the wood-chipper. And along with any true commitment to living life together, as a twosome, you can forget about anything that really matters to you. Domestic tranquility. Being a father to your kids. Buying groceries fewer than four times a week. Vacations you really enjoy. Hanging on to your money.

Hey PrincessAnd having a cold beer. It’s an unpleasant truth of life: A woman who refuses to bring you a beer, probably won’t be that crazy about you grabbing one for yourself either. “Get your own damn beer” doesn’t mean what you might think it does.

I hope no one gets the idea, from comments like this, that I place a lot of priority in judging a woman’s character on whether she’ll bring me a beer or not. That would be barbaric and primitive.

But, I certainly do appreciate a woman who is inclined to go ahead and do it for me. Or for any man. I get the distinct impression that the number of years I have left on the planet, is derived rather rigidly from how many minutes I spend around women like that, in whatever capacity, versus how many minutes I spend around those “E” types. “Can You Get Me A Beer?” has become a reasonably accurate litmus test to figure out if a prospective long-term enchantment has a problem with her goddamn attitude, and Lord knows how much money and grief it can save a younger stud approaching the age ripe for dating seriously. It’s very much like what young ladies do with us, when they keep an eye out for how much we tip the waiter — you know, that timeless advice handed down from mother to daughter, however we treat “The Help” is probably how we’ll treat our wives. I think that’s a fair test, and an accurate one too. So is the “ask for a beer” test. Be classy and polite as you can possibly manage, but toss the question out, keep your butt anchored to that chair, and see what happens.

How different things would be, if I tried that with my ex-wife.

Update 7/26/08: This one definitely goes in, because…

1. It’s loaded with nostalgia. The pull tabs, the “wet look,” the sideburns, etc.
2. Her knights rescue her from the dragon, and she does what a decent princess does. Fits right in with our theme.
3. It’s my old stomping grounds.
4. She’s a product of the feminist movement’s “growth spurt” phase, right after it got going. When it was feelin’ it’s oats, so to speak. And yet, she’s just a sweetie. LESSON…LESSON…for certain people who need it…but might not absorb it…
5. Cross-eyed cat??

Let’s just stop beating around the bush: As it’s been pointed out before around these parts, beer is a wonderful beverage for human companionship — even if it’s substandard beer that tastes like deer piss. It is the ultimate social drink. The taste is not the point. The point is getting together and appreciating each other, when we would otherwise have not.

And there really is no more pathetic creature than a woman who resents a man who’d like a beer brought to him. These fragile biddies, the trouble with them is — the guy who demands that it be brought to him, versus the fellow who’d simply appreciate it, they can’t tell ’em apart. Those two dudes are exactly the same, in their eyes.

And that’s a very sad thing to see in a woman. It’s like a guy who can’t drive a stick-shift. Men should know how to work a clutch, and a woman should know how to recognize grace and good manners when they’re right in front of her. Now, the guy who can’t tell who’s being nice to him and who’s being something of a dick, or the woman who grinds gears, I can cut them both some slack. But each one of the sexes has an area in which mastery is to be expected, and I think what’s above in this paragraph, nails that down pretty well.

If she doesn’t, and if she acts like those sourpusses over on feministing, snarking away when she catches wind of guys who like to have beer brought to them…you know what? She is being (wait for it, here comes the ultimate insult) — economically foolish. Really. That’s the unsung wonderful thing about us guys. A beer is an adequate, I say abundant, almost excessive, thank you. No matter what. This is what our less enlightened and less pleasant females can’t grasp about us. They, for their own advantage, really should figure it out, sooner rather than later.

We buy you a beer, you buy us a beer.

We hold the door open for you, you buy us a beer.

We throw our fine suit jackets in the mud puddle so you can walk across ’em without dirtying your precious feet, you buy us a beer.

We haul your five tons of crap and your cross-eyed cat up two flights of stairs, you buy us a beer.

We rescue your five children from a burning building at three in the morning, and then adopt them and pay their way through college, you buy us a beer.

In all those situations, and many more, the beer is more-than-adequate payment. It isn’t even payment, it’s gratuity. You’ve just surpassed all our expectations. Guys are so easy that way. Black men, white men, red men, yellow men, Republican men, democrat men, redneck men, urban men, old men, young men — you’ll never hear any one of us, ever, say “oh, a beer, what else are ya gonna do for me?”

You bring us a beer, and it’s all good. More than all good. We’re like the puppy you just fed. Friends for life.

Not In It For The Attention, Mind You… XIX

Friday, July 25th, 2008

…but I hope I can send some attention to the Folds of Honor Foundation.

It began with the death of 28-year-old Brock Bucklin, an Army specialist from Caledonia. He was killed May 31, 2006 in Iraq when fellow soldiers were lifting heavy equipment and a hoist broke.

His sacrifice was etched on the hearts of the passengers on the flight that returned his body home.

When the plane landed, Bucklin’s 4-year-old son, Jacob, rushed to the casket carrying his hero’s body. That image stuck with Capt. Dan Rooney who was on that flight and has been on several tours in the Middle East.

“I was on a United Airlines flight, 664. You don’t remember the numbers of many flights in your life, but this was a night that my life changed,” Rooney told 24 Hour News 8. “For me, being an F-16 pilot, I’ve seen combat, I’ve seen death and destruction in Iraq. But I’d never seen that side of it. And having three daughters of my own, it was something that really struck me.”

Rooney decided to combine his two passions – patriotism and golf – and started the Folds of Honor Foundation, a scholarship to help pay for school for some of the 187,000 dependents left behind by war.

We were following a trackback and ended up at looking at a Linkfest Haven page at Elections Blog. We get lots of trackbacks that are just plain spam, and this one aroused our curiosity because it had some spamtastic attributes but was missing others. We picked up some unmistakably human-authored English and decided to investigate. From that, we found The Blog That Nobody Reads was already participating passively, and we decided to participate actively, and from that decision we wrote ‘er up.

Makes a lot more sense for that foundation to get attention from us, than the other way ’round.

Cassy with gunAlso, we’re going to be putting up some “guest blog” pages over at Cassy Fiano’s spot next week while she’s out of town, and she’s specifically asked us to toot our own horn while we’re over there…or strongly suggested we do so, repeatedly. Not so much that, but kind of left the door open — in a “nudge, nudge” sort of a way. We appreciate the offer and we’ll probably take her up on it…during which time, we expect the Writer’s Block to set in thicker than usual. “Horn-tooting” is a little out of character for us. Some of you nobodies who don’t stop by to not read The Blog That Nobody Reads, have been not stopping by and not reading it for awhile by now…and you know we’re a scrapbook, not a billboard. In other words, the central theme here is something like NOTE TO SELF: What is up with that chucklehead Barack Obama? You wouldn’t believe the wombat crazy bollywonkers crazy thing he did today…

…and whoever sees it, sees it, and whoever doesn’t, doesn’t. WHATEVER. Yes, we’re pleased with the e-friends we’ve made since our go-live date following the 2004 elections. Yes, we’re as addicted to Sitemeter as the next guy. But “Hey Innernets! Guess what I think about THIS” is not our primary objective; and I doubt we’re alone here, I think this is a myth that has been started about the blogging community as a whole. We’re not attention whores. The driving force behind our having a blog in the first place is that some folks have thoughts that make a lot more sense in the written medium, than in the verbal one. Sometimes.

Anyway. We’ll be following a cross-posting format so in theory, you won’t see much over at Cassy’s place that you won’t see here. But that’s theory, there are bound to be exceptions. Besides, there are a lot more commenters over there than here, and some of ’em will be worth meeting, so do head on over. Not to say anything against the nobodies here…you’re worth meeting too.

But in the final analysis, Cassy has a much prettier face than I do, and a decent brain behind it. Stop on by and say a hello on her way out of town.

I Made a New Word XX

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008

Loose Sweater Thread Paradigm

A situation that exists when…

1. You’re included in a class
2. Some other guy is included in a class
3. You react to your inclusion into this class a certain way
4. Your response to being included in the class should not affect that other guy in any way, shape, matter, form or regard, and yet…
5. It does.

I’m referring here specifically to Michael Savage’s comments on autism.

Radio host Michael Savage has said many controversial things in the past, but this is just downright stupid.

WOR radio talk show host Michael Savage, who makes a good living being outrageous, found himself in the middle of a new firestorm Monday after he branded most autistic children fakers who just need tougher parenting.

“In 99% of the cases, it’s a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out. That’s what autism is. What do you mean they scream and they’re silent?” Savage said last week in remarks that lit up the Internet over the weekend.

“They don’t have a father around to tell them, ‘Don’t act like a moron. You’ll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz.'”

A few dozen parents protested outside WOR Radio, demanding Savage be fired.

They called it ironic that a loudmouth known for rants about immigrants, Jews, Muslims, gays, Democrats and nonwhites would go after innocents who often can’t even verbalize.

Ed Moffitt, 75, proudly showed a picture of Bob, his 8-year-old grandnephew. “Bob can’t speak. He never called Savage any names,” Moffitt said.

“We are dying to hear him say ‘Mommy’ or ‘Daddy.’ And [Savage] says that he is just acting out?” said the boy’s grandfather, retired NYPD officer Bob Moffitt. “It hurts me.”

WOR said they couldn’t be held responsible for what Savage says because he is a syndicated host broadcasting out of San Francisco. “We regret any consternation that his remarks may have caused to our listeners,” the station said.

On the air last night, Savage said his comments were “ripped out of context” by “far left Stalinists.”

I’ll agree the far left Stalinists are out to silence him, and any other conservative voice for that matter, but really, do you have to say such things about disabled children?

Just stupid.

It’s this chucklehead, Ace, Cassy Fiano and a few of her commenters on one side — me, Michael Savage, about three-quarters of Cassy’s commenters (her thread is the place I’ve been debating it) on the other side.

See, here’s the deal. Michael Savage was tactless. He was tactless to the point of being technically inaccurate. If you take his “99%” literally, his comments are easily disproven and even he will not stand behind them. In his remarks wherein he refuses to apologize for them, you see he’s taking the liberty of protesting he was taken out of context, by declaring the context after-the-fact. Barack Obama would be proud.

Here’s my ordeal:

My child — on paper — has “severe autism.”

He’s been diagnosed that way.

And it’s a crock of bullshit. No, that’s not just my opinion. It’s the opinion of anyone who’s ever met him…including his mother, who was really banging the drum and swinging the pom poms to get some kind of diagnosis — any kind of diagnosis — to make him genetically weird, so nobody else would have to take responsibility for his weirdness.

Here’s the part I don’t get…and if someone can explain it to me, I’d be grateful.

We have kids who are diagnosed with PDD-NOS and other shades of autism, who definitely have something neurologically wrong with them. We have other kids who simply don’t have the personalities their teachers would like them to have, and so the school district wants to skim cream off the top of the Medicare program — so along comes a convenient, and fraudulent, diagnosis. We have both of those going on.

Why the Loose Sweater Thread Paradigm? From where are all these parents, uncles, acquaintances, etc. of “kids who have been helped so much” by their specialized education programs coming? They’re swelling out of the cracks in the walls like angry red ants, ready to rip into Michael Savage or anybody they think is defending him.

Yeah I know what they want me to say. Michael Savage is a big crock and a doo doo head who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Well, sorry. I know better. My kid’s been diagnosed, and it’s part of a big scam to rip off Uncle Sam. I’m not going to partake in it, and I’m not going to pretend everything’s on the up-and-up when I know better.

It’s a scam, folks. This doesn’t mean every single child diagnosed with autism is in fact healthy; I know better, and while a word-for-word technical reading of Savage’s comments might produce that as a literal meaning, I think it’s safe to say this is not what he meant. (He did say 99%, after all.) Quoting from his clarifying remarks (linked above):

Just a few weeks ago doctors recommended dangerous anti-cholesterol drugs for children as young as 2 years of age! Without any scientific studies on the possible dangers of such drugs on children, corrupt doctors made this controversial, unscientific recommendation.

Increasingly, our children are being used as profit centers by a greedy, corrupt medical/pharmaceutical establishment….To permit greedy doctors to include children in medical categories which may not be appropriate is a crime against that child and their family. Let the truly autistic be treated. Let the falsely diagnosed be free.

And that’s my attitude. I’ll freely admit — there are kids out there who need help. It’s just that my kid isn’t one of them, and along with him, there are probably millions of other kids soaking up social services they don’t need, that could be going to other kids who need them more. That’s a busted system. And no, I don’t care who I’m pissing off, I’m not backing off of it.

I would instead question why they’re getting pissed off. Yes, they know kids who need the help. That means, as far as I’m concerned, they should be on my side. The resources their kids need, are limited. Let’s stop skimming them for fraudulent purposes. From whence arises this “all boats in a tide” nonsense? How come it is automatically and instantly dismissed that a plurality of kids, all laboring under this diagnosis, can be toiling away under different circumstances? What’s this artificial notion of sameness all about? This phony sense of unity?

You know what it reminds me of — is labor unions. As in, everyone else on the shop floor is putting together seven widgets an hour, you’re doing nine…so when you go home tonight, we need to set someone up to meet you with tire irons and baseball bats and give you an education. Just like that. Loose-sweater-thread; I cut a thread over where I am, somehow, irrationally, in a way that defines any logical explanation, some other guy miles away thinks his sweater is going to be undone.

I’ll just quote what I said on Cassy’s thread…

Some form of special instruction has been helpful to a child who has been so diagnosed. Therefore, anybody who pushes for reversing the diagnosis, or merely opening it to further question, must be wanting to HURT the child, right?

Wrong. News flash: Just about any child, save for the most brain damaged ones, will benefit from special instruction. It does not necessarily follow from that that they need it, or even that there is anything unusual about them. It proves nothing. Kids benefit from special instruction, period.

Stop it with the anecdotes, people. They don’t prove anything. They don’t even suggest anything. All it shows is that you’re using weak logic — the question under consideration is “is there a significant number of false diagnoses” and you’re answering it with “I know of one or two diagnoses that are not false.” It’s like saying, dolphins have fins, all fish have fins, therefore dolphins are fish. It’s phony logic and it doesn’t work.

If this was all above-board — I could comment on every single blog I can find, “Hey, my kid has been diagnosed with severe autism and I know it’s a huge crock of bullshit.” So long as I’m just talking about my own kid, and none other, I wouldn’t be pissing anyone off because they’d all look at my comments and say “okay, that kid doesn’t have autism, but I know mine does, so it’s all good.”

Instead, there’s all this angst.

That’s a big giant red flag for corruption if there ever was one. Sorry, it’s just true. If your child is really neurologically damaged and he has a real need for these services, you shouldn’t have any reason to fear some total stranger raising new questions about them.

We stopped spanking kids.

At the same time, we stopped using embarrassment to punish kids. In effect, we stopped punishing kids in any way.

“Learning disabilities” skyrocketed…at exactly the same time.

People who are paid good money to figure out what’s going on — can’t see a link between those two trends. Meanwhile, they or their employers are making money, directly or indirectly, on a per-diagnosis basis. And ASD (autism spectrum disorder) diagnoses are through the roof.

Sorry, if you can’t see something smells to high heaven on that, you’ve got a learning disability yourself. Maybe more than one.

City Councils Voting on Wars

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008

BellinghamMy Dad tipped me off to the fact that the City Council in the fair city of Bellingham, where I spent my childhood, has unanimously approved a resolution in opposition to any proposed military intervention in Iran. The argument in favor is summarized here by a couple of peace activists up in the college hippy-town that is my old stomping ground:

On June 23, Bellingham City Councilperson Terry Bornemann introduced a resolution urging a diplomatic surge toward Iran and opposing military intervention in that country without Congressional approval. Why should the Bellingham City Council divert its attention away from important local matters to address yet another foreign policy issue? Didn’t it take enough flack for the Troops Home Now! Resolution in 2006?

Could it be the same reason that our National Guard is being diverted from its intended role in state emergency response? Perhaps it is the same reason that school administrators are diverting their time away from teacher development and curriculum improvement. Could it be the same reason governors are diverting their attention away from crumbling infrastructure to ward off financial ruin?

It doesn’t take a four star general to see the common denominator underlying these quandaries.

Our occupation of Iraq continues unabated, with a taxpayer price tag of $270 million a day. It has already cost the City of Bellingham $98 million. And the human costs to the United States are staggering with over 40,000 casualties, including 4,100 troops killed. Bellingham is home to some of these families.

So why, you ask, is the city council stepping in once again to consider another resolution, this time opposing U.S. military intervention in Iran?

Simple. If our local elected officials won’t, then who will?

What a fascinating rhetorical question!

But therein lies the problem. Rhetorical questions are not considered to be intended for, nor capable of inspiring, coherent answers. That is how they make the point, by arousing a stupefied failure to figure out how to answer them.

If only it applied here. This blogger was struck by a borderline jealousy toward his old man to realize the senior Freeberg’s letter aroused no less than 25 responses since midnight. That seems more impressive than it is — although it still is — because I noticed one commenter expertly named “headupyerass” commented three times and will no doubt return to comment some more. He has to. I know this type; his objective is to get the last word, and there are lots of other folks pointing out the error of his logic.

But which side prevails in this open-thread on the humble backwoods newspaper, is not the point I wish to inspect here. What I wish to inspect is this: This guy with his head up his ass, has an Internet connection, a keyboard, a screen, and all the other equipment that is required to make himself heard.

He has drive. He knows how to put a sentence together that describes his sentiments. He does so, repeatedly, which goes to show he can.

There are millions of others just like him. All of them with their heads up their asses…can’t avoid ’em…off they go, blah blah blah blah blah.

Does this not address the “if the officials won’t, who will?” question just about as satisfactorily as can possibly be imagined?

So with that in mind, the ball bounces back to the side of the court wherein we reconsider what the municipal-level authority’s dog-in-the-hunt is — exactly. Because I’m still unclear on it. Just a smidgen. If the citizens find nobody is speaking for them, they can write. It’s proven. So how ’bout the homeless people moving in, harassing downtown shoppers, and the threadbare parking facilities and the skateboarders and the traffic light switching patterns that encourage motorists to drive twenty miles over the speed limit? Every city can use a little bit more attention on issues like those, and many more.

But here’s another interesting question, one that is not asked. The Bellingham City Council vote was unanimous. It is being hailed as a “grassroots victory” of some kind, which implies that this is a way to manifest the thinking of the man-in-the-street. Remember what Ayn Rand said — the smallest minority is the individual; therefore, whoever oppresses or fails to support the individual cannot pretend to be advancing the rights of any minorities. Does Joe Six-Pack unanimously oppose military action against Iran, for any reason? Would a hundred-outta-a-hundred persons all across the fruited plane approve of the wording in the resolution?

Hell’s bells, you can just read the thread I linked above, to figure out that’s not the case.

But the resolution is unanimous. Something, therefore, is busted & gunnybags. It brings to mind something Bill (“wch”) said this morning about journalism…

A lot of journalists and politicians (metaphorically) stand in a room of people who are doing nothing but asking them for stuff. They believe it is their job to “answer” them, with news or legislation or favors.

They (for whatever reason) think that the people in the room represent the people NOT in the room. A wise person would ask where all of the other people (not in the room) are; and do they share the sentiments of the people in the room.

This is the conservatives’ largest problem: they’re not in the room, they’re too busy to stand in the room. They just know that if they were, they’d shout out “Hell no, we don’t want that!” That’s why they’re called the silent majority.

Bingo. We are facing a recession or depletion of a certain human quality. I think the word that would most accurately describe this quality would be “maturity,” but I intend to use something far more descriptive than that. I’m talking about a specific aspect — the readiness, willingness and ability to defend one’s mindset against the fallacy of false consensus.

To say to oneself, when all assembled in immediate proximity are found to approve of something (or to not care), “I wonder if there is anyone who would dissent, and if so, what their reasoning might be?” Not so much to bring everything to a screeching halt and pugnaciously ask it; the far less intrusive variation — to merely be ready to entertain it.

We’re missing that. It seems to be a vanishing, and non-renewable, resource. I believe it starts early on, in about the second or third grade. Teacher says “How many of you…let’s see a show of hands…” and before the hands go shooting up, there’s two dozen little toe-heads swiveling around, first left, then right, to see what everybody else is doing. It starts out cute. But we tend to forget, too many among us never stop doing that, and years later when they serve on city councils or on editorial panels get this “gut feel” that because everyone in the room thinks something, everyone everyplace else must be on the same page.

It just ain’t so. Sorry.

42

Tuesday, July 15th, 2008

From the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, in which an alien supercomputer is tasked to find out the answer to life, the universe, and everything…as loyal readers know, after many millions of years the supercomputer finally goes “ding”:

42“I think the problem is that the question was too broadly based…”

“Forty two?!” yelled Loonquawl. “Is that all you’ve got to show for seven and a half million years’ work?”

“I checked it very thoroughly,” said the computer, “and that quite definitely is the answer. I think the problem, to be quite honest with you, is that you’ve never actually known what the question is.”

From the TIFF file header format

Offset
Datatype
Value
0
Word
Byte order indication
2
Word
Version number (Always 42)
4
Unsigned Long
Offset to first IFD

The number forty-two is the code for the ASCII character that is the asterisk (*). To send someone a kiss via text message, you have to use the asterisk. In most programming languages, the asterisk is used for multiplication.

When Mom finished sleeping after her all-night labor, everyone was talking about Richard Speck and she had to have it explained to her what happened. That was my fault. I suppose we all, at some time or another, have the feeling we’re being scapegoated for others not knowing what’s going on; in my case the condition goes all the way back to birth. Wrong place wrong time.

Forty-two is the atomic number of Molybdenum, which has the sixth-highest melting point of any element, 4753°F (2896°K).

Halfway point? Lessee…Mom died at 59, grandparents went at 76, 77, 94 and 74…uncles go at seventy-something on Dad’s side and eighty-something on Mom’s…regular exercise, non-smoker, yeah I’m probably just about at the center of gravity.

So I wonder what I should work at doing in this second half. The liberals tell me I should feel properly guilty, work to elect Obama, take down my blog, conserve, recycle, and for heaven’s sake keep my opinions to myself!

That impresses me as about a meaningless existence as can possibly be had.

I’m Not Here to Make Friends

Wednesday, July 9th, 2008

Can The Blog That Nobody Reads poke fun at reality-show contestants who “aren’t here to make friends”?

Eh — I’ll leave the question to the philosophers. After all, we’re not here to…

H/T: Four Four, via Jonathan V. Last at Galley Slaves.

Ego Boost

Monday, July 7th, 2008

So at Rainbow Bridge I’m stopping off, 28 miles into my mountain bike run, four miles from home. I’m re-hydrating and replying to text messages. The sun is just beating down, all the asphalt is throwing off the heat it’s been absorbing all day long. I’m wearing a thick stinky coat of 4 SPF tanning oil, and I’m about as dressed-up as Tarzan. And oops, I looked in the wrong direction, down, at my Revos that gave me a perfect view of my shirtless bod. Erk!

Didn’t look as bad as I thought.

MusclesI thought the bod would say, “Hi everyone, I’m that geek you used to shove in garbage cans, except now I’m at age 42, with biceps the size of rake handles, my girlfriend’s a great cook, my Perfect Pushups have a thick layer of dust on ’em, and I never jog because I am a Blogger Extraordinaire.” The bod would have been well within its rights to say that. Instead, it said “I eat too much meat and drink too much beer and don’t get my heart rate up as often as I should, but stay in shape by beating up on myself. If you don’t have what it takes to finish a fight, don’t start one here.” THIS…IS…SPARTA!!! Yeah…this is Sparta, with a gut. But with a real chest, and real arms.

Granted you have to be in your fifties before that message is flattering. But I’ll take it. Looked like — a prehistoric hunter who had the skills to keep his family well-fed. No such thing as jogging, but good at having adventures in the outdoors, thinking on his feet, and absorbing punishment. A visibly robust constitution. Like making it into the eighties shouldn’t be a problem. I would have expected much worse.

That’s nice to see. Us forty-year-olds are all about “where the hell is the halfway point?” Am I in back of it, on top of it, or waaaaay past it? That’s the health question for this decade.

Hot!But the real rush happened when I turned around and faced the river. A quarter of a mile out there, and a couple hundred feet down, were a couple of cuties struggling upstream in kayaks, one blond and one brunette. Half my age, tops. The blond, perhaps forgetting how conspicuous such a gesture would be, raised a finger to pull down those thick-framed fashion sunglasses just a sliver, and drank in some captivating visual in my direction…in which there was nothing to see…at all, whatsoever…save moi.

Heheheheh.

Honestly, that poor girl needs to raise her standards just a tad. But what the hell.

Today’s high — one one oh. Yeowch. When I finally made it home, it was nearly six o’clock. With the AC cranked, one bottle of cold water down the hatch, and then a bottle of sport drink, my sweat glands were still going nuts and they didn’t calm down until I swam a couple of laps.

I have to admit, this would not have been my mode of transportation if I had done my research. Not for that time of day, anyhow. The fires are beatin’ the hell out of us and the air quality is still pretty bad; this kind of physical punishment is best done at the other end of the day. Couldn’t be helped.

Hah! Maybe!

Sunday, July 6th, 2008

Where’s my credit card?

H/T: Ace.

Humility

Sunday, June 29th, 2008

Anticipating for yourself what will have to be done; gathering your gear; putting it where you can get to it when you need it; maintaining it properly.

RedundancyThat’s me, clarifying the eighth rule for manly thinking, yesterday morning here at The Blog That Nobody Reads.

Wrong f**king goddamn valve type.

Me, to myself, in the park, upon unpacking my spare bicycle inner tube following a blow-out. Three miles from home. Today.

And that one…and THAT one.

Me again, an hour and a half later, in my living room, going through my entire inventory of spare inner tubes none of which had the correct valve.

Shopping tomorrow.

Today was a pretty nice day for a walk anyhow.

And we can all always use a little more humility.

Now THAT is Scary

Saturday, June 28th, 2008

In fact, I don’t think you’ve seen anything as scary as this in quite some time. (H/T to Rick, who linked it differently.)

Kind of makes you look at the When I Start Running This Place page in a whole new light, huh?

Not In It For The Attention, Mind You… XVIII

Saturday, June 28th, 2008

Two great-lookin’ babes with wonderful minds. Should I mention them both in the same post? They’re not exactly of the same mind, and there’s a chance someone will get offended, I suppose…but it’s always better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Becky, the Girl in Short Shorts Talking About Whatever, registered and entered a few words after I picked on her rather mercilessly. Her anti-war passions are misguided, but she has a lot of synapses firing per millisecond upstairs and we’re plum pleased to see her stopping by. Legs ‘n all. And we still think she’s right a lot more often than she’s wrong — just puts a lot more thought into how to win, than what’s going to happen after she does so win. Oh well. She’ll come around someday.

Becky is pro-gun?I know she will, because she’s not one of these pure-bred small-l libertarians who obsess over legalizing pot and heroin and crystal meth — and beyond that, their concerns over individual rights come to a screeching halt. You know the type. Becky isn’t like that at all. She thinks for herself; I mean, she really does. She’s a feminist, Catholic, gay, conservative in her own way…I think pro-gun…the girl just isn’t that anxious to fit into any kind of cookie-cutter.

She’s not that eager to play on a level field, either. If I wrote up some stuff that as hurriedly presumed nasty things about gay people, as some of the stuff she’s written about straight white guys…whew. But oh well. When she applies her mental horsepower, it’s considerable and she makes a lot of good points about things you don’t see made anywhere else. Well worth reading.

Speaking of which. Hawkins put out his list of favorite blogs for the quarter and no, we didn’t make the cut. Hey, remember this is The Blog That Nobody Reads.

However, #10 was blogger pal and uber-cutie Cassy Fiano…whose bikini pics make us feel all dirty inside because of the yawning gap of an age difference. And she was kind enough to put in a good word for us. A very, very good word.

My Favorite Blogs
:
House of Eratosthenes:
Smart commentary with interesting stories you can’t find anywhere else.

Holy guacamole…

While we’re wiping that lipstick off our face, you know you can take a couple of eggs and fry ’em up on those big red ears of ours. This one made our day.

Thanks Cas!

For the first two years after we registered with Sitemeter, a “good” day for this blog would have been anything north of a hundred hits — which is pathetically low. For the last three months or so we’re averaging well above double that, and the pattern is not at all consistent with “flash in the pan” stuff. These seem to be brand new nobodies not coming by to not read the Blog That Nobody Reads — and they’re not coming by each and every single day. Actually, the last time we fell short of our old hundred-hit target was over a month ago, for one day, when Sitemeter had an outage and all the hits that would’ve been logged instead went in the phantom zone.

In short — the evidence seems to indicate we’ve made a lot of new friends. We’re happy you’re here. Look around, kick off the shoes, have a cold one, drop a note.

House of Eratosthenes Battle Bridge

Wednesday, June 25th, 2008

Neatnick Buck has responded to a challenge to show off “your” workspace…”your” being him, me, you, whoever. Sez Buck…

This is a pretty quick, easy, and fun sort of meme…so play along if ya want. Jenn has only stipulated one rule: Don’t clean up first. Let’s see it, warts and all.

Oy. Well, as we like to notice around here: Life’s full of challenges. Well, that reputation I had as a fastidious clean-freak was kind of fun while it lasted.

Grigori the Blogger Tower is gunned up and begins roaring to life with one of my favorite backgrounds, the Bugatti Veyron 1000HP W16 quadruple-turbocharged engine. I don’t have one of those, I have to settle for viewing a digital image of it. For now. You can tell I’m right-handed because of the twin bladder-busters: A coffee cup warmer for those quiet, chilly mornings, and a wall-mounted bottle opener for those hot summer twilight sessions. The electric teakettle is on the left, for late night sessions when I need to soothe the belly without wandering out to the kitchen to get the stove-powered model whistling away and maybe waking up my gal. Gear is important! Like it sez in the cartoon: Someone is wrong on the innernets. Gotta be prepared.

Battle bridge viewed from the left. The broadband Internet/television gateway is up-top. Grigori is now chugging away loading desktop icons, trying to decide whether it’ll spend the next few hours doing useful things on my command, or giving me dumb looks. The LCD portable movie player is for watching whatever might suit my fancy, and the neon blacklights are for…well…the coffee cup warmer has a ring of glow-in-the-dark paint. That’s for old goats like me that set wine glasses down on the wrong place, sometimes tipping ’em over. The blacklight recharges it; and I kind of find it soothing. Don’t know why. Maybe it’ll give me cancer someday. Who knows.

HEY…you said don’t clean up. Be careful what ya wish for.

It’s Not Always About Me

Monday, June 23rd, 2008

The Blog That Nobody Reads has been tagged by blogger friend Judy Ann.

The rules:
1. Post the rules at the beginning.
2. Answer the questions only about yourself.
3. At the end of the post, tag five people and post their names, then go to their blogs and leave them a comment so they know they’ve been tagged. Ask them to read the sender’s blog.
4. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

What were you doing five years ago?
June 2003 — Lots and lots of traveling.

What are five things on your to-do list for today?
1. Wash the car.
2. Go to the bank to cash a check.
3. Make some important phone calls.
4. Put away some laundry.
5. Make love, and yes I have someone picked out.

What are five snacks you enjoy?
1. Pineapple
2. Jamba Juice
3. A plain bowl of cold cereal
4. Ice cream drumstick
5. Nuts ‘n bolts with Chex cereal and creamy peanut butter

What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?
1. Build my dream house, and it would put Frank Lloyd Wright to shame
2. Make a big donation to Wounded Warriors
3. Buy a Harley-Davidson with all the accessories and get out of the house for a whole month
4. Check out Westminster Abbey
5. Get a Steyr-Mannlicher HS .50, go to Montana, and start splitting boulders in half from two miles away.

What are five of your bad habits?
1. Blogging, what I’m doing right this very second.
2. Complicating things that perhaps do not need to be.
3. Filing taxes late.
4. Believing people. I have a tendency to forget that just because intent-to-deceive is absent, doesn’t necessarily mean what’s being said is a hundred percent true.
5. Going too long without checking up on things outside of my comfort-circle. But then I guess we all do that to some extent, don’t we?

What are five places where you have lived?
1. Sacramento, California
2. Detroit, Michigan
3. Everett, Washington
4. Bellingham, Washington
5. Tempe, Arizona

What are five jobs you’ve had?
1. Project Manager
2. Senior Network Engineer
3. Consultant
4. Application Development Engineer
5. LAN Administrator

Five people I tag:
1. Misha
2. Rick
3. Gerard, who’s supposed to be sleeping right now, so I’ll make it optional for him and up it to six
4. Duffy
5. Cas
6. Karol