--- Ahem. It's been a good day.

WE GOT THE BASTARD! AND A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU, TOO!

If you're looking for bloggy goodness about his capture and if it means anything political, go to Instapundit
and he'll point you in the right direction. It's all being said as I
write this, go and check out what someone else has to say. Heck, it
might be even more well informed than anything I have to say about it.
I'm just glad they got him.
Two interesting observations, however.
First, a pun from the Cake Eater Father: "Well, I guess they finally got their Ace in the hole."

Groan

Second, interesting potential punishment for Saddam from Mr. H.
All 300,000 families who lost loved ones due to this guy should get
a day with Saddam. One day. Alone in his cell. The only requirement for
the meeting being that they can't kill him.

{Insert wiggle of eyebrows.}

Sounds kind of Promethian to me, but hey, whatever works, right?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 178 words, total size 1 kb.

--- Spiff, Spaceman Spiff,
Wherefore art thou Spaceman Spiff? Sigh.
And here I was hopeful that the return of Opus would drag a few other
curmudgeonly cartoonists back from the doom and gloom of retirement.
Alas, however, it does not seem to be the case. And at Opus' pace,
well, I doubt Doonesbury will even get back up to par. I'm glad he
found his mom, though.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 77 words, total size 1 kb.

--- Ok, so we're back online and here's the pics I promised.
The Sister-in-Law and her family came over during the holidays and we
did the usual gift exchange thing. It seems that the small children had
some say in what their uncle and auntie received for Christmas and we
had no
problems with that. They did rather well, I think, and we're both
delighted with our goodies. The husband has needed new slippers because
he hates the ones I gave him a couple of years ago, his main complaint
being that they slide too much and he has no toe strength to keep them
in place. That and they don't keep his feet warm, either, which is a
big requirement here in winter.
I don't think he's going to have much room to bitch anymore, after
receiving these.


Now, if only he would stop growling when he walks around the apartment, pretending he's actually a bear, we'll be doing good.

I, on the other hand, got these.

That's
Fred on the right and Barney on the left. And, yes, I had to name them.
They have such cute smiling faces it simply wouldn't do to let them
remain anonymous.
Now the question of the day is: who would win if there were a battle
between the bear feet and the monkeys?

Posted by: Kathy at 04:30 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 232 words, total size 1 kb.

--- Where's the Poltergeist kid when you need her, eh?

I'm baaaaaaaack
--- So, Christmas was very uneventful. Very, very quiet, but it was
nice. I got my alfredo shrimp. I also got shrimp cocktail on Christmas
Day. And some cornish game hens stuffed with crab stuffing. As you
might have been able to tell, we made the most of the goodies I brought
back from Florida in October. And it was tasty. I'll share pics of one
of my favorite gifts later, but the husband has informed me that since
he's doing big, memory sucking stuff on his computer, he's probably
going to have to reboot soon. This means, since I'm networked to the
Internet through Gandalf, well, I'd better get this done right the
first time. Besides, it's laundry day. I don't have time to mess with
you people.
--- Watched this last night and was, of course, repulsed.

Only this bozo would charge police brutality over a forty-five minute stay in the Santa Barbara (Santa Barbra!!!! He's lucky he didn't get thrown into L.A. County).

MICHAEL JACKSON: With the handcuffs, the way they tied 'em too tight
behind my back — ED BRADLEY: Behind your back? MICHAEL JACKSON: Yeah.
And putting it, they put it in a certain position, knowing that it's
going to hurt, and affect my back. Now I can't move. I — I — it
keeps me from sleeping at night. I can't sleep at night. And Jackson
says there was more â€Â¦ MICHAEL JACKSON: Then one time, I asked to use
the restroom. And they said, "Sure, it's right around the corner
there." Once I went in the restroom, they locked me in there for like
45 minutes. There was doo doo, feces thrown all over the walls, the
floor, the ceiling. And it stunk so bad. Then one of the policemen came
by the window. And he made a sarcastic remark. He said, "Smell — does
it smell good enough for you in there? How do you like the smell? Is it
good?" And I just simply said, "It's alright. It's okay." So, I just
sat there, and waited. ED BRADLEY: For 45 minutes? MICHAEL JACKSON:
Yeah, for 45 minutes. About 45 minutes. And then — then one cop would
— come by, and say, "Oh, you'll be out in — in a second. You'll be
out in a second." Then there would be another ten minutes added on,
then another 15 minutes added on. They did this on purpose.

I should feel sorry for a grown man who uses the word "doo doo" to describe human waste? This is what qualifies for police brutality these days? I've got one word for Jackson.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

--- The husband sent me this a couple of days ago and I thought it was funny.

Computers really are getting too smart for their own good.

--- And now it's time to reboot. More later.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 498 words, total size 3 kb.

--- Heh.
Government at work. Fascinating topic for conversation, eh? Well, on
occasion, yes, it is. Like the Vatican, I have a love/hate relationship
with the federal government. On an abstract level, I find it
fascinating how they build, maintain and protect their little hives of
delusional authority. Fascination aside, the thought that generally
crosses my mind is, We signed up for this? And were eager to do so? What the hell were we thinking? On a concrete, day-to-day basis, however, I can generally find something about the government to bitch about.

I just indulged that dysfunctional relationship with a very nice lady named Beverly from the US Census Bureau.

You see I got this in
the mail about a week and a half ago. And you know, it's always
fascinating when you get a very official and scary-looking packet in
the mail from the federal government that decries YOUR PARTICIPATION IS REQUIRED BY LAW on the envelope.

The first thing that runs through your head is What
the hell did I do? We did pay the taxes, didn't we? Yeah, I remember
signing that check and mailing it because I went through a crate of
kleenex when I did. It can't be that. Well, what the hell could they
possibly want from me? I'm nobody.

So, you open it up and your thoughts of an X-Files
like conspiracy go straight into the crapper because it's from the
freaking Census Bureau. Gag.
Now, I don't know about you, but I don't really like filling out forms
for the Census Bureau. I got the long form for the 2000 Census, then
because I actually had the gall to fill out said long form and return
it, I was visited by two different census takers, confirming the
answers that I'd provided. Then
my doorbell was rung by yet another worker bee who wanted dirt on my
neighbors because, as it turned out, none of them had been responsible
citizens and filled out their forms. And they got the truncated ones.
Grrrrrr.
Being a responsible person sucks. I have no doubt the reason that I got
this blasted survey is because in some computer at the Commerce
Department it listed someone at this address as being a helpful
individual. So,
why bother using someone else! HA! We've got a sucker right here! Let's
use them instead of actually having to try and convince some other
slacker they should participate. Feeling very bitter indeed, I
opened the thing up mainly because bold print on government envelopes
makes my bowels turn to water. I read the letter. Dear Resident:
I recently sent a letter to your household about the American Community
Survey. Enclosed is a questionnaire and information about the survey.
Please complete the questionnaire and mail it back as soon as possible
in the postage-paid envelope.

This survey is a book.
It's heavy. It's that federal greenish color that resembles vomit. It's
twenty-four pages long. And they have the gall to call it a questionnaire? What kind of an idiot do you think I am. A scowl on my face, I continued to read.

This survey collects critical, up-to-date information used to meet
the needs of communities across the United States. For example, results
from this survey are used to decide where new schools, hospitals, and
fire stations are needed. This information also helps communities plan
for the kinds of emergency situations that might affect you and your
neighbors, such as flood and other natural disasters.
Oh, the blackmail of entitlements, eh? Don't you people have a better
trump card to throw down to get someone to participate in this sort of
thing? Ah, but wait...
The U.S. Census Bureau chose your address, not you personally, as part of a randomly selected sample.

Sha, right and monkeys might fly out my ass!

You are required by U.S. law to respond to this survey.

Ooooh, a threat? Whatcha going to do to me when this thing is addressed to resident?
Hmmm? You don't even know who I am, let alone how to get at me. You
see, I'm stronger than you. I know how to perceive a threat and rank
its importance. Don't try to scare me with that Resistance is futile
line. The Borg has more stones that you ever will, I can tell you that
much for nothing. If I can resist Needless Markup's shoe catalogs,
well, I can certainly resist the full force and power of the Commerce
Department. HA! You don't have anything on Needless Markup.
They could beat the everliving snot out of you without chipping a nail.
I can get past anything you try to pin on me. Which leads to the
question...Hmmm. Interesting, very very interesting.
The Census Bureau is required by U.S. law to keep your answers
confidential. The enclosed brochure answers frequently asked questions
about the survey...
Ok, so Kathy opens up the nicely printed brochure and wonders first and
foremost what they can penalize her with if she refuses to answer this
honking survey. (Because you know the husband won't do it.) And she
finds her answer---or at least part of it.
Do I have to answer the questions on the American Community Survey?
Yes, your response to this survey is required by law (Title 13, USC,
Sections 141 and 193).
Title 13 as changed by Title 18, imposes a penalty for not responding.
The survey is apprived by the Office of Management and Budget. We
estimate this survey will take about 38 minutes to complete.
What the hell does that mean? And the fact you're threatening me with
some sort of penalty which I will now have to call and find out what it
is or I can take a trip to the law library to look up, is not endearing you to me. Then you have the gall to tell me that it's going to take thirty-eight
minutes to answer this thing? So, now, understandably, I'm pissed off.
All I'm going to say is that this had better be a really good penalty
attached, you know, one that would require the federal government to
throw me in the slammer for not complying. I am strong. I will refuse to answer this thing on principle because not only has the government sent me a goddamn survey, they've threatened me with legal repercussions if I don't comply!
Where's the by the people, of the people, for the people in that little
bit of data gathering, eh? We might as well be in the good ol' USSR.
So, I picked up the phone and tried to call the Census Bureau to find
out what, precisely, they could do to me. This was the day after
Thanksgiving, and of course, the office was closed. Sigh. I put aside
the survey and the righteous indignation and forgot all about it until
today, when I was clearing off my desk. Then I picked up the phone and
called, my fury now subsided (eh. what can I say? I had leftovers to
eat. Fury has a way of deserting me completely when there's leftover
pie involved. ), but rampant curiousity running amok.
Beverly answered, listened to my question, and to my complete and utter
surprise was unable to answer. She had no idea what the penalties for not answering the survey were.

So, you guys compel people to participate in this thing by listing
out scary sounding US Code, and you don't even know what the penalties
listed in the code are?

Nope, but I can look it up.
And she did try. But she'd never had this question before and she'd
admitted it. She gave me a citation from the U.S. Code, but didn't know
what it said. Then she tried to get me to complete the survey by
stating that by the time they are able to analyze all the data gained
in the Census, it's out of date. So, apparently, it was someone's
bright idea to do smaller, random surveys to get the data they already
sampled once, but weren't able to use because it took too long to
analyze in the first place. If that makes any sense to you, well,
you're one up on me. Beverly was a nice lady. So, I listened to her
explain the reasoning behind the survey, how they'll just keep hounding
me if I don't turn it in, which in all reality was probably worse than
anything the federal government could sic on me. Blah, blah, blah. The
conversation was pleasant, and it was ok, I suppose, but the thing that
I found telling was that while Beverly hadn't a clue about what they
could do to me if I didn't comply, she sure as hell knew what they could to do her
if she revealed any confidential information gathered in the survey,
which was something like a year in jail and a five thousand dollar fine
for each instance of disclosing stuff she wasn't supposed to disclose.
Makes you wonder, eh? Anyway, with the specific bit of code---13 USC
221--- in hand I went here and looked it up.

(a)Whoever, being over eighteen years of age, refuses or willfully
neglects, when requested by the Secretary, or by any other authorized
officer or employee and the Department of Commerce or bureau or agency
thereof acting under the instructions of the Secretary, or authorized
officer, to answer, to the best of his knowledge, any of the questions
on any schedule submitted to him in connection with any census or
survey provided for by subchapters I, II, IV, and V of chapter five of
this title, applying to himself or to the family to whch he belongs or
is related, or to the farm or farms of which he or his family is the
occupant, shall be fined not more than $100.
Ok, I don't know about you, but I think it cost some the federal
government more than a hundred dollars in labor costs to come up with
that legalese morass of a run-on sentence in the first place. And you
know, it gets even better...
(b)Whoever, when answering questions described in subsection (a) of
this section, and under the conditions or circumstances described in
such subsection, willfully gives any answer that is false, shall be
fined not more than $500.
Damnit. They took away my fun option. Grrrr. I'll fill the damn thing
out. Of course. Because I'm a responsible person; because I realize
that gathering this kind of data has its uses, not because I'm going to
get anything out of it. But damn if it doesn't rub me the wrong way
that they threatened
me to force my compliance. And they knew it was a lame threat, too:
that's why Beverly couldn't answer my question when I called; that's
why they make you look it up and it's manipulative in the extreme.
Because, honestly, who wants the full force of the federal government
coming down on them? If I didn't have legal experience, I could see
where just listing Title 13 of the United States Code could be a very
scary thing to read. Legalese is scary. They just assume that you, the
average ordinary citizen, will take the threat to heart and will comply
solely for that purpose. Beverly admitted as much. Oh, they just do that to get people to fill it out.

Is this what our much vaunted democracy has come down to? Puffed up threats? What the hell?

We signed up for this?

Posted by: Kathy at 03:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 1929 words, total size 11 kb.

--- Hiya Kids.
Sorry I missed yesterday. It's the husband's fault. I couldn't get on
the internet because of a networking issue we seem to have when he
accesses this one interface his client requires him to. Quite
complicated in actuality, but the result isn't---BOOT! Ah well. I was
working on a Matrix essay for you guys, but alas, didn't get it done. Needs editing---badly. Maybe I'll get it up here, maybe I won't.

The suspense will make your life unbearable in the meantime. I just know it will.

--- Funny.

Ah, Graydon Carter, publishing guru/batman nemesis, strikes again.

--- Eeeew.
You know, just when you thought you'd really seen the depths of
depravity humanity could hit, you're surprised anew with something like
this. Although, just a quick walk on the sick side of things, what does human flesh taste like?

Hmmm. There's your question of the day.

--- Congratulations. Someone finally gets it. Or do they?
Too bad the organizers don't realize that if an out of state
student---particularly one who pays out of state tuition (Penn is a
state school)----by registering to vote in Pennsylvania, they're
technically disenfranchising themselves in their rush to get a
president elected.
On one hand, I find it refreshing that students and people in general
are actually paying attention to the Electoral College for a change.
It's interesting to watch average people formulate strategies to "make
their vote count more". The lesson of the 2000 election was actually
learned in some quarters. That is impressive, no matter which side of
the fence you sit on. And maybe, just maybe, it means that sometime in
the near future, people will get sick of the stupid Electoral College
and there will be enough support to get rid of it entirely. But on the
other, do these kids realize that they're not really upholding
democracy by registering in Pennsylvania? Because, I'm telling ya right
now, every congressional representative from the state of Pennsylvania
is thanking them for their support: these are free votes they'll get
this year---they won't have to do a damn thing to keep them next time
around because they know full well the students will probably be gone.
These students are going to keep incumbents in office---incumbents that
average tax payers probably hate and would love to see dethroned will
be kept in because some stupid student wanted their vote to count for
the presidency and just voted a straight ticket down the line, adding
their support where they thought it was needed. And they'll still be
paying out of state tuition in the meanwhile. Suckers.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:42 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 443 words, total size 3 kb.

---Oh, just say no to mediocrity, eh?

This is such bullshit. I simply cannot believe the absolute arrogance of the Nebraska AD.

"We will not surrender the Big 12 Conference to Oklahoma and Texas."
Umm, I hate to tell you this, Mr. Pederson, but Oklahoma and Texas had
crappy teams for years. They worked their way out of the hole they had
fallen into by hard work and sticking by the coaches they had hired.
This was not a coup d̢۪etat, like you seem to think. Nebraska was not
illegally deposed from their righteous throne by a black ops. There
weren̢۪t any SEAL̢۪s crab crawling through Big 12 Headquarters by the
dark of night, hacking into computers, stacking the deck against you.
The conference expanded. Other schools in said conference worked hard
and became better. To put it in Kissinger terminology: the Big 12
Conference became a multilateral threat and challenged your hegemony.
But then again, you̢۪re just an AD, so I̢۪ll put it in terms you do
understand: the playing field was leveled and you don̢۪t like it very
much, do you?
Here̢۪s my advice to you, Mr. Pederson: rehire Solich and quit your
bitching. I daresay the next time you win a National Championship, the
press will say Nebraska actually deserved
it. Now, I̢۪m originally from Nebraska. Born and raised in Omaha. I am
well acquainted with the mythic proportions of Husker football: it̢۪s
a big deal there. People who live elsewhere in the country have a hard
time understanding just what the deal is with the football worship.
When they visit Omaha, or any other part of Nebraska, strangers gape at
the bright red NU flags that are unfurled every autumn Saturday. They
read the newspapers and don̢۪t quite understand why they can̢۪t find
the score of the game they wanted to know about because the sports page
is jam packed with arcane Husker football facts. I pity the poor souls
who find themselves driving I-80 between Omaha and Lincoln on a
Saturday morning; the poor souls who are undoubtedly wondering what the
hell is happening in Lincoln that results in all of this insane
traffic. It simply has to be a confusing situation for people who are
not from Nebraska, like an inside joke that goes right over your head
and leaves you doubting your intelligence. But, if you̢۪re from
Nebraska, well, you̢۪re one of three million people who get
the inside joke. You grow up with Huskers. You listen to the games on
the radio and you know who Kent Pavelka is. You know who Johnny
Rodgers, Mike Rozier, and Turner Gill are. You know that Osborne would always
rush on first down. You know that Bob Devaney could have given Michael
Corleone a run for his money in the will power department. You know
that when a game was on TV, there would be no traffic on the streets,
causing Omaha look like a ghost town, the odd bit of newspaper blowing
across the five lanes of Dodge Street unhindered by passing cars. You
know that Memorial Stadium in Lincoln is the third most populated place
in the state on football Saturdays. You know all sorts of
trivia that you would never know about if you didn̢۪t live in
Nebraska. There̢۪s a reason for this adulation: it̢۪s simply because
there̢۪s no other show in town. Sure, Creighton is located in Omaha,
but they don̢۪t have a football team, unless you count this one.
http://www.weirdharold.com/creighton.htm . The University of
Nebraska-Omaha does
have a football team, but hey, they̢۪re only Division II-A---or
something like that. I don̢۪t think anyone actually knows what
division they play in or cares. UNL, however, does possess a Division I
athletic program, and that̢۪s an accomplishment on two fronts: first,
they have a good team to root for; and, second, that collegiate
accomplishment makes the rest of the state important. They̢۪re
contenders now. They̢۪re in the same league with the big boys. Now,
it̢۪s true. Nebraskans do have an inferiority complex.
It̢۪s completely natural. Nebraska is a good place to live, but the
rest of the world sees it as Hickville, USA. When I chat with Europeans
and they ask me where I̢۪m originally from and I say Omaha,
invariably, their reply is, “Where is that?” I tell them to pull
out a map of the USA, to look right in the middle of the country, and
then they’ll see it. Then the recognition hits them. “Oh, that’s the place in the Counting Crows song, right?”
Yep. Get your money back at the door. In my experience, you̢۪ve got
two types of Nebraskans: the ones for whom the place is home and
they̢۪re happy with it, and the ones who simply cannot wait until they
can bolt like a rabbit from the borders. I was one of the latter. But I
have a fond appreciation for the place, now, fifteen years after I left
for good because my folks and some siblings still live there. I make it
back once or twice a year and it̢۪s grown on me. The things I took for
granted while I was growing up, like the complete lack of smog, the
ability for kids to still play outside without having to worry about
someone snatching them, have endeared the place to me on a whole new,
adult, level. If you can forgo 24/7 Chinese takeout and serious
culture, it̢۪s not a bad place to be. Not like I̢۪m ever moving back, but I can understand now
why some people choose to live there. When I was eighteen, it didn̢۪t
seem to me like a place anyone should ever want to live. Ironically,
however, when I was younger and freshly liberated, I actually felt the
need to defend the place whenever someone slagged off on
Nebraska---either the place or the football team, because, for better
or worse, the football team is intertwined with the state; you really
can̢۪t talk about one without mentioning the other. Now, I still
don̢۪t know why I did this---or do it still. Sentimentality, I
suppose. But it was always interesting to listen to someone who was not
from the Nebraska fan club talk about the football team; they always
enlightened me. So, this I suppose, is the reason I̢۪m cheesed that
the AD fired Solich: it shows a complete lack of perspective on the
whole issue of Nebraska football. It̢۪s the only game in town, and by
God, it had better be a winning game. I have a hard time abiding the
whole win-at-any-price mentality that̢۪s enveloped the Nebraska
football program and its fans. This was not the case when I was growing
up. Nebraska, back then, was the underdog; Oklahoma was forever beating
the snot out of us. It was always the big hope that Osborne would finally
get his National Championship, because he honestly deserved it. He̢۪d
built up a solid program; one that kids clamored to play for. Osborne
worked under the assumption that someday they would win the National
Championship because excellence took time to establish and would
eventually be rewarded. And he was right. It worked. It was a sweet
moment when Nebraska beat Miami in the 1995 Orange Bowl to take the
Championship because it was well deserved. But this is also when it
went to pot. Because not only had the fans gotten their National
Championship, now they wanted more championships, to prove, once and for all how great Nebraska, the football team and the state itself, were.

They got greedy, in other words. They wanted more.
Osborne, a man whom I had always felt was a decent person, even got
caught up in it and allowed Lawrence Phillips, a convicted felon, to
play when Osborne would have normally kicked the guy off the team. That
desire to win; to please the fans; to bring money into the program and
into the school got him. It̢۪s fairly obvious to me, at least, that
Frank Solich never had a fair shot at this job. Working under the
looming cloud of a legend had to be hard, but he did his best and while
last year was horrible, it was also rock bottom. They came back this
year. They improved. The rest of the world would call that progress,
but not the AD at UNL. To him, that̢۪s mediocrity.
Bullshit. Root for a losing football team, like my alma mater̢۪s (Iowa
State) and you̢۪ll know frustration intimately. It̢۪s more fun,
though, because your team can only go up. You will scream like mad when
they actually score, and it̢۪s even better when they actually win.
Trust me on this one. Nebraska fans don̢۪t know what losing
really is. When your worst season ever is a split, that ain̢۪t losing;
that̢۪s called Even Steven. They̢۪re taking all the fun out of
rooting for their team. If your team is so good, and you̢۪re forever
worried about them being knocked off the pedestal and the damage that
action will do, how can you possibly have any fun? When will it ever
be a celebration that your team won? And this is the honest truth with
Nebraska fans. After a victory, there̢۪s always a collective sigh of
relief that envelops the whole state; everyone̢۪s pleased that they simply didn̢۪t screw it up.
And I ask you: where̢۪s the fun in that? Because football is supposed
to be fun, right? Rooting for your team is supposed to be fun, correct?
Even bitching about the losses is supposed to be fun. But not for
Nebraska fans: it̢۪s the potential end of the world. They have very
little perspective on the whole matter.
Nebraska football isn̢۪t fun. I̢۪m sorry and I̢۪m sure I̢۪ve just
pissed off half of my family with this little diatribe, but it̢۪s the
truth. What̢۪s sad is that it used to be fun and it isn̢۪t anymore.

Sigh.

--- This
certainly isn̢۪t good news. It seems that even with Charles Taylor in
exile that the powderkeg that is West Africa is on the verge of
exploding again. Not good. Not good, at all.
--- Today is World AIDS Day. People newly infected with HIV in 2002: 5
million AIDS deaths in 2002: 3 million...that's over 8,000 deaths per
day Estimated number of people living with HIV/AIDS at the end of 2002:
42 million Total of AIDS deaths at the end of 2002: 28.1 million Total
number of AIDS orphans: 13.2 million If current world population
numbers are even remotely correct and we actually have six billion
people currently residing on this planet, .7% of the entire population
is currently living with this disease. Now, thanks to wonders of modern
statistics, that might not seem like a whole heck of a lot of people.
This is a limited view, yet it̢۪s understandable why some people
couldn̢۪t care less about it. Depending upon your geographical,
religious, and socio-economic status, it̢۪s completely conceivable you
may never know a person who is infected in your lifetime. It̢۪s not in my backyard and only perverts get it anyway, so why should I care?
Let me enlighten you as to why HIV/AIDS is the plague of our time and
why we need to do everything in our power to stop it. But not in a
scientific way. The facts are out there: go and look them up. I̢۪m
talking about the way this virus affects us as human beings. This is
the one disease, more than TB, Polio, or Smallpox, that has the ability
to bring down the whole house of cards our world is built upon, mainly
because it plays upon civilization̢۪s eternal weakness---vanity.
Neither TB nor Polio plays on upon vanity; because of the way they
spread, it̢۪s conceivable that a rich person (particularly one who is
stupid enough not to be vaccinated for these diseases because they
think it will weaken their entire immune system in the process) will
catch them just as easily as a poor one. But HIV/AIDS is different. It
feeds upon our weaknesses as human beings not only in the way it
spreads, but in the ignorance it engenders in people who are unaffected
by it. We couldn̢۪t possibly be touched by this now.
We̢۪ve learned our lessons. We̢۪ve learned how to have safe sex. It
can̢۪t touch us now because we̢۪ve learned how to take precautions.
It̢۪s vanity, which is one of the seven deadly sins, if I remember
correctly.
But sins aside, the reality of the situation is deadly. It̢۪s been
said by those far more educated in this area than I that in fifty
years, HIV/AIDS will be the leading factor in wiping out half the
population of the most heavily populated continent---Africa. Think
about that for a minute: let those numbers sink into your gray matter. Then
think about the warfare and the malnutrition endemic to that continent
which makes the situation even more desperate. Misery ad infinitum. Do
the people of Africa deserve this misery simply because they couldn̢۪t
keep their pants zipped, as some have claimed is the real reason for
this plague? I would say no. To my mind, it̢۪s so much about how the
problem started, as how we solve it. We̢۪ve hit the stage, in other
words, that if you̢۪re not a part of the solution, you̢۪re a part of
the problem. It̢۪s really quite that simple. Pity for your fellow man
is a requisite of life on this Earth. If you don̢۪t have it, well,
you̢۪re lacking something really rather important, aren̢۪t you? Do
something about it. If for no other reason than plagues have a horrible
way of spreading. Particularly plagues that play on vanity. --- Go and
read the husband today. He̢۪s been doing that horrible thinking thing he has a tendency to do again.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:14 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 2310 words, total size 15 kb.

--- Rhetorical and random question for the day:

Why is it that my MSN email service---the one that I pay for---only
gives me 2megs of storage space on their server, but the Yahoo! email I
have set up for this site gives me 4 megs---for free?

Bill Gates really is one greedy SOB.

--- Michele's off on a rant today.

Check out the original link here that set her off.

Kids will see the bloody truth behind their momsâ₉„¢ pretentious
pelts. Accompanied by graphic photographs of skinned carcasses and
animals languishing on fur farms, children will read: "Lots of
wonderful foxes, raccoons, and other animals are kept by mean farmers
who squish them into cages so small that they can hardly move. They
never get to play or swim or have fun. All they can do is cry-just so
your greedy mommy can have that fur coat to show off in when she walks
the streets."

This is just so effing juvenile. All I want to do is scream GROW THE F@#$ UP!
Not like it would do any good, but my God, would it ever be satisfying.
Michele is ticked off, and rightly so, because it's a blatant attempt
to manipulate children's beliefs. If I were a kid, however, I'd be
ticked off because it's a bad comic book. It's like one of those crappy
Disney comic books that tried (and failed) to make the adventures of
Goofy interesting. If I were a kid who'd been handed one of these
things, I'd think it was poorly done, it assumes I'm stupid, and it
makes someone I love look bad because they did something that didn't
fit in with what someone considers to be the proper thing to do. If,
when I was growing up, someone had called my beloved mommy "greedy" I
would have been tempted to slug them. I probably wouldn't have done it,
because my mother (unlike others) taught me manners, but the temptation
would have been there nonetheless. The blatant manipulation of children
aside, how ham-handed can PETA be? They're not interested in changing
minds; they're interested in shaming people into changing their
behavior. And I am SO DAMN TIRED of this type of rhetoric. So tired, in
fact, that I just shut it out most of the time. People have choices in
this world. In this case, they have the choice to wear fur or not wear
fur. I choose not to listen to anyone who is stupid enough to spread
their message by way of a comic book and thinks this is the best way to
bring people over to their side of the fence. I'M NOT AN IDIOT!
This lowest common denominator brand of rhetoric we're subjected to on
a daily basis on every level of society is just so denigrating to me as
a human being. It assumes that the idiot who's the loudest, the
boldest, and the brashest wins. In the calculations made beforehand, it
is assumed that no one in the audience has a brain, because if they did, well they'd agree with us, wouldn't they?
We're all just chumps who will buy whatever they're selling if they're
just loud enough. Do you listen to everything the drunk loudmouth
shouts from his perch at the end of the bar? No. You take into account
the fact he's at a bar instead of at home. You take into account that
he's drunk. You take into account all sorts of things. You use your
brain and you temper what's being said by who says it. It's simple.
It's called judgment. Common sense. This type of rhetoric
doesn't encourage common sense, however, in the audience. It engenders
anger, not only because of the rhetoric spewed, but because the
audience doesn't get the chance to judge the argument on its merits.
This type of rhetoric encourages steadfast opposition. Christ, people,
read some Sun-Tzu, would you? Or if that's too edumacated for you, how
about the old adage, you draw more flies with honey than vinegar?
Assume that I, your intended audience, have a brain. Also assume it's
going to take some time to convince me of the rightness of your
position. But, that would take effort, and we know how damn lazy
you people are. Not in saving furry rodents from their deaths. On that
front, the PETA people are pretty darn active. BUT, when it comes to
changing minds, they take the quickest route possible and are harming
their purpose in the first place. But they don't think that; they take
the scorched earth tack. They don't really care how they change
people's minds, just that they do. Because, you know, a mink's life is
on the line. Fifty years from now, do you think PETA will still be
around? I don't. I think they will have made themselves obsolete.
They've cried wolf so many times about so many things that no one's
going to listen to them after a time. They're the drunk at the corner
of the bar: people will blow them off in time. Even the people who
think they have something of worth to add. And just for the record, I
would wear fur. The only reason I don't is because I cannot afford it.
It's expensive. I would probably look ridiculous in it, though. A
sweatshirt, jeans and Merrells hardly qualify as worthy attire for a
fur coat.
But I've worn a mink coat once---a former co-worker had a full length,
black mink coat and for shits and giggles one day, she let me wear it
for a time. Oh, my God.
It was fabulous. So soft to the touch. Lighter than you could have
possibly imagined just by looking at the girth of that behemoth of a
coat. But most importantly it was WARM! When you live on the frozen tundra, anything that keeps you that
warm is a bonus. On the whole, however, the ten minutes I wore that
coat was a fantastic sensual experience. I enjoyed it. And if I could
do that every now and again, I wouldn't mind it one little bit.
Particularly in January. So, when we hit the Powerball, I might buy
one. I might not. It all depends on the circumstances. What is
important to me is that I have the choice to do as I please. The end
result isn't so important as having choice. So, if you're a rabid
animal rights activist, you're going to have to come up with a better
argument than I'm "greedy" to keep me from wearing one. Just letting
you know what you're up against. I'm of German descent, which means I'm
stubborn. Poor you. But all hope is not lost. If you want to have an
interesting debate and are willing to listen to differing points of
view on the matter, we'll have a chat. But if all you want to do is
throw blood at me or hand me a denigrating comic book, don't bother.
--- Both Sullivan and Instapundit have both linked to this interview.
Call me a copycat if you will, but I liked it. Gimli gets it!

Actually, I quite prefer Rhys-Davies as Sallah in Raiders (his character was dumbed down too much in Last Crusade),
but that's just me. Gimli annoys me and I want to hit him with a brick.
But, since I assume that's what Tolkien intended, it would mean that
he's done his job well.
Read the whole thing. Fascinating stuff. And very, very brave.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:10 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 1261 words, total size 7 kb.

--- Ahhhh. Christmas Eve Day.

Now, if that isn't the most ridiculous piece of language I've ever heard, I don't know what is.

Think about it for a minute and then you'll have probably landed with a ceremonious thump
onto the page where I reside.
--- The tree is up. The baking is done. The presents are wrapped. The
shrimp for tonight's dinner is defrosting in the sink. The house is
clean enough that any unexpected well wishers who drop by won't be
instantly repelled by all of the muck and mire we don't mind living in.
It's all done. Now, we just have to get through the lag time before the
celebration of the Birth of Christ begins. A few hours. Not too long in
the scheme of things. It's generally a good time to take a nap, but I
have to run up to the grocery store and pick up some heavy whipping
cream for the alfredo sauce the husband plans on dousing the shrimp in.
MMMMMMMM. I'll fight some lines, but it won't be that bad. The
nuttiness should have receded by the time I get up there. The husband
had a different experience, however. He ran the last few errands that
needed finishing, and when he practically ran into the apartment, as if
he were fleeing an attacker, and breathed a large sigh of relief, it
was apparent that everyone in Cake Eater Land had gone as beserk as a
pack of rabid Vikings. After collecting himself, he told me that
everyone in the grocery store had gone insane. The checkout lines
snaked into the aisles. The entire population of our fair fiefdom, it
seemed, needed more egg nog before the store closed at four. I'm
doubtful that people actually needed more egg nog, but were instead
making busy work for themselves. It happens every year, and this year
is no different. It seems everyone is positively determined to make
this the best Christmas...EVER!
As if running to the store for some last minute nog, or killing
yourself to buy whatever Elmo is the must have, or maxing your credit
cards to buy stuff for people you don't even like is going to ensure
that this Christmas will, indeed, be the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER! I've been
disabused of this notion because I worked retail. You work one
Christmas in a mall and you'll be disabused, too. Now, I don't know
exactly why people do this to themselves. They set such high standards
for this holiday and they kill themselves trying to live up to them.
And it sucks the joy out of the season because of it. Nothing says you love someone like buying them copious amounts of shit they don't need.
This is ultimately what it comes down to. Buying people stuff to show
them that you love them. Why do we do this to ourselves? Ah, well.
That's a question that will have to be answered another day. I have to
run to the store or I won't have alfredo shrimp for supper tonight.
Heheheheh.
--- I don't know when I'll return again. I'll blog if the mood strikes.
If it doesn't, well, I'll see you next week. Here's one very fantastic
goody to tide you over. Tim Blair has
compiled his list of quotes for the the year and it's a great read. ---
Have a very Merry Christmas. Make the time tonight, between glasses of
wine and obnoxious relatives, to go outside. Enjoy the peace and quiet,
albeit temporary. Enjoy the cold for a few minutes. Breathe deeply and,
for a brief moment, enjoy the icicles forming in your lungs. Shiver
copiously. And then look up at the night sky, and if Rudolph's honker
isn't too distracting, gaze at the stars. Then, think of a young couple
who on this night, roughly two thousand years ago, gave everything over
to their faith and a God who demanded difficult things of them to
fulfill His will---and that they submitted without hesitation. Think of
the gift they gave us this night and know that they gazed at the same
stars you're looking at. And know that the world is a wondrous place.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:53 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 708 words, total size 4 kb.

--- It's snowing here.

They're estimating six to ten inches by the time it's all over with tonight.

So, what I want to know is where are the news crews? Eh? I mean, it's a blizzard...right? If every blizzard is such a big damn deal, well then we should be getting 24 hour news coverage, too, correct?

Oh, that's right. We're not on the east coast, therefore it doesn't matter.

Just once I wish the news people would realize that HELLO the United States has a whole heck of a lot of square footage that isn't
on the Eastern seaboard. And most of us don't care if NYC is snowed in.
It would behoove them to stop being so fricking lazy.
Then again, if you're a pretty UND student and you're abducted from the
mall while chatting with your boyfriend on your cell phone, chances are
high that you'll probably pass the litmus test that the national media
has established for actually sending reporters to gasp North Dakota.

There's just no telling, is there?

--- So, ya think Joe Lieberman is
kicking himself in the ass right about now? Poor Guy. You could tell he
didn't want to have a damn thing to do with the Florida brouhaha in
2000. You could tell that the nastier it got, the more Lieberman just
wanted to slink away from the whole mess. You knew he thought it was a
lost cause, but that either way it split, he was going to benefit from
it so he'd just put up with it. If they won the recall, he'd be Vee-P.
If they lost, he'd be the frontrunner for the nomination in 2004. Well,
Gore just shot that all to hell and Joe is probably a wee bit upset
with his former running mate. It's understandable because, honestly, he
just got the shaft. Almost makes you want to vote for him, eh?
--- Confession for the day I am a big idiot when it comes to HTML. This
is the lovely computerese-y stuff that gives "the extras" on this blog,
like italics and bold print. I know the basics, but if you want
something fancy, I'm definitely not the girl to kick the ball to, ya
dig? Because I will undoubtedly drop it.
If there is a cartoon on the site, or a photo or anything like that, I
ask the husband to post it for me. Now, I'm generally covered on this
one in the "asking of favors" department because we have to put this
stuff on his
server, and he doesn't want me to have access to that because I'll
probably screw it up. Fair enough, but it does get me off the hook for
having to learn how to do it, too. My knowledge is lacking, in
other words, because I've never had to do it.
Such is the situation we have today. Found something funny on the web
yesterday, wanted the husband to put it on his server and asked him to
send me the link to it so I could put it up here. This is nothing out
of the ordinary, mind you. He sent me back a link, but it didn't look
like all the links he's sent me in the past, so I ask him, very
politely, to send me the correct link.
Obviously, he now has reason to doubt my intelligence, but I don't know
this. I'm blissfully ignorant. This is what he sent back: This is the link. When people click on it, they should get
an option to download the file...unless they have their Windows Media
Player settings to somewhere between "I don't care how MS plans to
monitor my pr0n habit" and "Allow Bill Gates and his minions to examine
me rectally at any time without notice", then, of course, it'll stream
to their desktop.

{Insert much mirth here}

Anyway, here's the disputed link.

I hope you're in the mood for some Bert and Ernie.

--- I'm off to fire up the snowblower! YEE-HAW! Ride 'em Toro!

Posted by: Kathy at 02:50 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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--- Oh, almost forgot. The husband thinks the bear feet could take the
monkeys any day of the week and twice on Sunday. I disagree.
I think the Fred and Barney could take the bear feet. I really do.
Monkeys are wily. Bears are big, lumbering idiots that go after stupid
campers who've left their food out. Where's the challenge in that?
Monkeys, however, have two things going for them: their size and their
intelligence. They don't each much, so they can be craft about how they
get their food. Which also means they'll stay alive longer and will
escape that sawed-off shotgun that will take the bear down because the
bear is the animal equivalent of the broad side of a barn. Monkeys are
smart. The bear might have the size advantage, but that doesn't mean
anything, really, if they're stupid and can't get away from said
sawed-off shotgun quickly enough. Bears are stupid. Face facts. The
monkeys would win.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:33 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 171 words, total size 1 kb.

--- "Stealth Eugenics?"

Witticism courtesy of the husband.

As far as the article, well, eeeeeeeeeeeewwww.
Random thought for the day: How long do you think it's going to take
before the world realizes there's a huge chance of second generation
inbreeding with sperm donation?
Because you know sperm donators are repeat offenders. If they don't
have any problems jacking off in a sperm bank, obviously, they're not
going to have a problem doing it over and over again, are they?
Particularly when they get paid for it. I mean, come on. They're
getting paid for something they'd do anyway.
What's not to like with that scenario for the chronic masturbators of
the world? It's a complete and utter win-win situation. Duh. But I
wonder, is someone keeping track of all the potential family trees? Are
we going to be enjoying the massive outbreak of hemophila that's in the
offing? Sounds like a bad science fiction plot, doesn't it? --- Man, those Iowans are
so freaking gullible. If you believe that John Kerry is actually going
to do something about farm subsidies---including handing out even more
cash and sticking pins in big campaign contributors, like Archer
Daniels Midland---you need to visit Al-Anon. You're co-dependent in the
extreme. You keep buying his promises and those of his ilk. You're an
enabler, because you keep coming out to listen to what they're selling.
You actually think you're making a difference and making your needs and
wants known, but babycakes, face facts. They're just like a boozer:
they're going to promise you the moon and the stars and all of the
satellites in the sky and then they're going to go back on their word.
Trust me on this one. This is something I've got some experience with.
They might throw you a bone every now and again, but damn! Kids, how
many times are you going to buy their bullshit before you kick them out
of the house?
Speaking of Iowegian politics, a good friend from Des Moines is having
John Kerry over to his establishment next week for a fundraiser and he
sent me an invite to attend earlier this morning. Yeah. Like I'm going
to fire up Nellie and shoot straight down to Des Moines to hear John
Kerry speak for forty minutes. Yep. That's right. He's only going to be
there for forty mintutes. The event runs from 4:30 to 6:30---Kerry will
be there from 5-5:40. Talk about micromanaging an invitation.
The husband and I have known M. for years. He recently moved back to
Des Moines from KC and has started up a business down there that seems
to be thriving. His family is very well connected in that nexus of Iowa
politics that seems to flourish right before the caucuses, but lurks in
the background the other three years and eleven months leading up to
them. It's not surprising that he's managed to secure this PR event
(his brother co-owns the business and he's one of five PR guys in the
entire state that has actually managed to make PR a full time career
choice, because it's Iowa---who needs PR there? Not exactly a thriving
scene that needs PR management), what's surprising is that M. still
labors under the delusion that I care about Iowa politics, particularly
Iowa Democratic politics. I wonder if I should enlighten him? Naaaaah.
Where's the fun in that?
Partisanship aside, I will say it's interesting. And if I were still
living in Des Moines I'd probably pay the $25 and go out of curiosity.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'd get M. to let me in for free since he owns
the joint, but I'd be there nonetheless. You see, I get a kick out of
how it works. I want to be the one who pulls the curtain aside and
reveals the Great and Powerful Oz to be nothing but an old man with a
lot of bells and whistles at his disposal. Just call me Toto. Alas,
however, I won't be going. But I'll see if I can get a report out of M.
about how it went. Check back next week. --- That's enough for today.
I'm pondering putting up some lists of bests and worsts of 2003
tomorrow. I figure if everyone else is doing it, well, why the hell
shouldn't I? Wouldn't want to miss out on any of the fun, would I?
Besides, I'm a sucker for peer pressure.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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--- Ah, Monday. That most fabulous day of the week. Mmmhmm.

Was the sarcasm too heavy in that statement? My bad.

--- News stories of the day that have piqued my interest.

- Zimbabwe's pulled out of the Commonwealth.
Someone really needs to take Mugabe out behind the woodshed and beat
the crap out of him.
Chances are, though, it won't be Tony Blair now. I'm sure it could have
been one of those rare win-win situations: Tony would be able to vent
his spleen on someone who so obviously deserves it. What's not to like
about that scenario?
- I don't think Kerry should apologize to Bush. Bush is a big boy: he can take it. I think he should have to apologize to the readers of Rolling Stone for using them in what is an obvious attempt to pander for the 18-25 age group's votes.

Really. If anyone can see through a callous move like that, it's that
age group. I've said it before: swearing is the sign of an
unimaginative mind. Not a filthy one. Kerry obviously is the least
imaginative man in the presidential race---and that's saying something,
because they're all unimaginative. - One would think that Maddux finally realized chicks don't dig the long ball if you're not playing for a winning team.

Anyone think Joe Torre's going to call him soon?

I do. He needs another old fogey to replace Clemens.

- And we have yet another story of Silly Germans.

How badly would it have sucked to have been the customer service rep who got that call?

--- Fun political guesstimator. Check it out when you get the chance.

It says I'm 72% in line with Bush's policies and after that I'm 55% in line with any
libertarian candidate. John Edwards, reportedly, is my democratic
candidate of choice, but I'm only in line with his policies by forty
some percent. The person I'm least copacetic with is Carol
Moseley-Braun.
Shocker.
--- Rented 28 Days Later
this weekend. This has got to be one of the most interesting movies
I've seen in a long while. It calls into question the main thing we in
the industrialized world seem to have forgotten about simply because we
don't have to think about it: survival. And not just Cast Away
type survival, where you need to learn how to make a fire, but
kill-or-be-killed-survival---where your choices need to be made in a
few short seconds or you will likely die.
It's a fascinating tale. Granted, it is essentially a Zombie
movie, but it's thought-provoking and it makes you wonder what you
would do in such a situation, and if you would have the stones to
survive. Now, it's been billed as a horror film, but I think that's
selling it short. It's gory, yes. It's scary, yes, but to my mind it's
not the zombies that make it scary: it's the ideas presented that are
scary. Rent it. Very, very cool movie. And if you do, make sure you
watch the alternate endings.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:20 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 516 words, total size 4 kb.

--- Oooh. It's laundry day so I've got serious, worthy reading for you.
This will be my bid to act like your mother who, at one point in your
happy childhood, undoubtedly gave you a book of puzzles or the like to
keep you out of her hair.
I am doing the same today in an attempt to actually get the laundry
done. Don't call me mom, though. I said I was acting like your mother, not that I was your mother.

--- Haven't heard all that much about the whole anthrax scare from 2001. Reportedly, the FBI has hit a dead end. Which is very bad if this article is even remotely true.

Got the heebie jeebies yet? I know I do.

--- Oooh, neo-temperance! Now there's a fascinating topic for the day, eh?

Actually, it is. If you value the ability to order a glass of wine with your dinner when out, or even in your own home, you will want to read this.

You'll need acrobat, and it is long but it's also well worth your time.

--- And this is for Mr. H.
I think V. and Z. would enjoy this, don't you? They could spend some
quality time with their favorite uncle while he worships his God.
{Ducking and running}

Posted by: Kathy at 02:15 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 225 words, total size 1 kb.

--- I'm feeling crappy today, so we're keeping it short. I have this
huge desire to crawl back into bed and I'm going to cave to it sooner
rather than later. --- These people are nuts!
Now, I can understand getting fired up for a movie release. I'm not
immune and have done it myself in the past. The last time was for Matrix Reloaded
and on the whole, it was worth it. We gathered a group of like-minded
friends together, bought the tickets a few days before, got to the
theater early and got good seats. We all sat and watched the movie in
awed silence and after it was over, we went out to dinner and dissected
it. It was great fun. Getting excited about it, organizing some events
around it, made it more exciting. But I didn't have green code painted
on my face. I didn't slick my hair back, slap on some cool sunglasses
and wear a black patent leather catsuit (although the husband would
have loved it if I had). I didn't pretend I could do kung fu in the lobby of the theater. It's a movie.
A film. A story. No different in its base reality than some caveman who
painted on the walls of his domicile---its just the method of telling
the story that's different. You kinda have to wonder about these folks,
however. Getting to the theater at five a.m. for a film festival that
starts at noon? Constructing your costumes around the fact the theater
gets somewhat warm (and honestly, as that's the theater we usually go
to, I can say that they had a point. It's usually either freezing or
broiling in that place)? Renting a hotel room near the theater because
you're afraid it's going to snow and you don't want to miss it? It all
smacks of some well-described psychological conditions, that, if they
involved illegal substances, like drugs, instead of a series of movies,
would be seriously frowned upon by law enforcement. Knock it down to
the base behavior. Addiction. Obsessive-compulsiveness. I know, I'm
taking the fun out of it. It's not harming anyone. It's just a group of
geeks getting out there and reveling in their obsession. But if it were harming someone, or there was at least perceived
harm in it, it would be dissected and regulated like alcohol or drugs.
How long do you think it's going to take for someone to perceive harm
in a situation like this one? Because we all know most perceptions are
not based in objectivity. So, there's the deep thought for the day. And
besides, damnit, how did they keep their butts from going numb through
all of that? My butt went numb about halfway through the non-extended
version of The Two Towers. How they managed to get past the pins and needles is beyond my comprehension.

Ok, I'm off to bed. If your off to see Return of the King, enjoy yourself. I'd wait until it came out on home video, but I don't think the husband will allow for that.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 524 words, total size 3 kb.

--- And a happy two day workweek to all of you working stiffs. Surf all
the porn you can find because you're going to have to go without for FIVE whole days.

FIVE whole days. Without porn.

Oh, the humanity!
The agony, the grief, and the absolute panic racing through your system
at the thought of five whole days without your favorite Asian twins
must be huge right about now. Particularly with that new spam law in
effect. Since you can't surf with impunity at home, lest the spouse or
significant other catch you, you won't even be able to get a slight
thrill when a porno spam arrives in your mailbox. Monday can't come
soon enough, eh? --- Question for the day: how long do you think it
will take for the ads at the top of the page to catch that topic and
start linking to porn sites, eh? I give it a week, or so.
Anybody want to start a pool? --- The husband jokingly asked if he inhaled.

Note to the husband: This is Al and Tipper Gore's kid we're talking about. Of course he inhaled! Duh. His dad invented the Internet; he thought he and Tipper were the basis for Love Story. As a cherry on top of that geek sundae, take into consideration that Tron
remains Al's favorite movie. Then flip over to his mother: she tried to
ban any and all music she found offensive. She's got an even bigger
stick up her a#$ than her husband. You'd inhale too if your parents
were that dorky. Oh, wait, they are and you did. Ignore that bit, then.
{Insert much ducking and running here}
--- So, the question that comes to mind is: does eating insects cause heartburn in the first place?
Anybody want to place a bet on when some corporation will adopt a baby
and turn his/her life into a TV show that they will have no idea about?
--- And here's some non-Christmas music for you. You'll need Real One Player to listen to it.

If it sounds familiar, that's probably because it was attached to that memorable cave dancing scene in Reloaded. This is what all those folks got their groove on to. I love it. I've been dancing around the office to it since May.

Enjoy.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:33 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Well, you're all screwed.

Why? you ask.

Well, I had a whole nice blog typed out with lots of goodies for you and it disappeared.
I see no reason why you shouldn't share in my disappointment. Because I'm sure as hell not going to retype the whole thing.

Life sucks. Get a helmet.

But I'll throw you a bone---have a good weekend!

Posted by: Kathy at 01:33 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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--- There was absolutely nothing of worth to blog about yesterday. To quote the Barenakedladies It{'d} all been done. I took the day to do laundry, instead.

Today, however, is a completely different story, so let's get down to it, shall we?

--- Oh, yeah, cutting France and Germany out of the reconstruction bids really
hurt the debt relief effort.
Sha. Honestly, if the scientific community does nothing else for the
rest of its collective life regarding cloning, they should at least
figure it out once so we can always have James Baker around.

--- Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him?

If he could handle the Hounds of the Baskervilles, no doubt he could take on some pesky cats.

--- Had a great laugh last night, courtesy of the the late, but not great, Strom Thurmond.

Oh, the hypocrisy!

--- I simply cannot wait for Dennis Miller's show to hit CNBC. I've missed him so!

As Sullivan would say, here's the money quote:

Your politics have drifted right in recent years. How come?

I'm left on a lot of things. If two gay guys want to get married, I
could care less. If a nut case from overseas wants to blow up their
wedding, that's when I'm right. (Sept. 11) was a big thing for me. I
was saying to liberal America, "Well, what are you offering?" And they
said, "Well, we're not going to protect you, and we want some more
money." That didn't interest me.

A daily dose of Dennis is shortly in the offing! Junkiedom, here I come!

{Insert sound of slapping veins in arm here}

--- Leave it to Tim Blair to take the wind out my sails.

Bastard!

Here I was ready to go, once again, whole hog on the Vatican, but noooooooooo.
Tim has to do it first, damnit. And of course, he does it well and
quickly, which would not be the case with me. Grrrrrrr.
But I have a few things to add.
So it seems, according to the Vatican's standards of what is and is not
allowed, you can be a brutal, repressive, and murderous dictator and
it's shameful for you to be treated like "a cow." But
choose to partake in non-reproductive sex, and you're a sinner and you
need to repent. Saddam's allowed his dignity, of course, according to
Cardinal Martino. Millions of Catholics worldwide, however, aren't.
Hell, Saddam's a heretic according to the Catholic Church's
bylaws. Isn't he going straight to hell, anyway? Why do you have pity
for him? If you actually had pity for him Cardinal, shouldn't you be
sending a priest over to the jail to convert him? You know, to do the
whole soul saving job on him? Only then he'd be worth your pity. Right
now he's just a sinner. And we all know how fond the Catholic Church is
of sinners. Last time I checked, pride was still one of the seven
deadly sins. Saddam is the perfect example of the sin of pride. He's
also just as guilty on the charge of vanity, but we'll leave that for
another time. It is worth noting, however, that Cardinal Martino is
just as guilty of the sin of pride. We were right when we said this was an unjust war! Neener, neener, neener!
If that isn't pride, I don't know what is. What we have here kids is
yet another example of how JP II isn't running the show over at Pete's
place anymore. Think about it. And then, if you're a Catholic, worry
about the ramifications.
--- So, if Charlie Trotter worships Ayn Rand, what philosopher is responsible for Anthony Bourdain's leanings?

Hmmmm. Marcus Aurelius, perhaps? Nah. He always said to stay away from the twitchings of impulse. Hmmmm. AHA! I've got it!

St. Augustine. Give me chastity, but do not give it yet!

--- Ok, now I'm a starvin' Marvin, so I'm off to reheat some spaghetti for lunch.

Ciao for now!

Posted by: Kathy at 01:23 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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--- No, no, no.
Dear God. Just once I'd wish these women who feel the need to castrate
their cheating husbands would get it right.
I mean, come on! If your reasoning is that you're trying to send a
message to ho-seekers the world over (which, face it, you will) then at
least be creative about it. Is Loreena Bobbitt ringing a bell? It
surely didn't work for her. Her ex is now a porn star! Let the red haze
of fury pass and use your brain! You'll notice that they always manage to reattach the thing. The surgeons are obviously getting good at reattaching them. They're making monstrous progress in this field thanks to your actions. STOP THE INSANITY!
Think outside of the box. Just for once I would really like it if there
would be some interesting twist on these stories. They're so effing boring. And the whole situation is just so ineffective.
There's very little return on investment, if you get what I'm saying.
So, here's my advice to you potential castraters. Ahem. If you're so
enflamed that your asshat of a husband has been cheating on you and you
want revenge, well, might I suggest that revenge is a dish best served
cold? Please remember men, in general, have short memories. Once it's
over and done with, it's over and done with---they'll just keep doing
the same damn thing, particularly when a vascular surgeon can just sew
the offending item back on, and thanks to the wonders of modern
medicine, it'll probably still work. I daresay you're probably just
making the asshat in question even more eager to try it out. And it
won't be with you, that's for sure. So, if you take the cleaver option,
you're really not making him pay, are you? All I'm asking is that you
put some care and thought into the castration. If the goal is to make
him suffer for his philandering ways, well, make him suffer.

You just have to be clever about it. That's all. Go forth with this motto in mind:If you're going to do it, do it right!

Try a toothpick. Hell, you don't even really have to use said toothpick. Just threaten it.

"Darling, you know if you ever cheat on me, well, I hate to say it," add a devilish grin here, just to add to the menacing effect, "but
I will feel the need to strap you down to the bed and you will lose
that which matters most by means of a single toothpick. And I should
probably mention, it won't be over with in one night, darling.
Go quiet for a long moment and give an intense stare. This serves two
purposes: first, it lets them know you mean it, and second, it gives
them a moment to picture the whole scenario. Men are visceral
creatures. They have good imaginations: make their imaginations work
for you. But, I'll warn you, it'll probably ruin the effect if you
can't hold back your triumphant laughter as they reflexively clutch
themselves and turn a sickly green.
--- Now for the big ass disclaimer. I AM IN NO WAY ADVOCATING THE CASTRATION OF MALES WHO HAVE CHEATED.

I repeat:

I AM NOT ADVOCATING THE CASTRATION OF MALES WHO HAVE CHEATED.

Have you got it yet? That bit up there was a joke.
Take it as one, please. I don't advocate the stoning of women who've
committed adultery, so I surely don't advocate the castrating of men
for the same offense. It might be gratifying, yes, but what purpose
does it serve in the long run to take such a tack? Think about it. If
you've been reading this site for a while, well, you know that I'm a
sick puppy. I'm warped. I'm twisted. I'll fully admit this. You should
know this by now, so please don't fill the inbox with all sorts of
email telling me what I already know, ok?

Posted by: Kathy at 01:06 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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--- Ok, so we got nine freaking inches of snow yesterday. Our burb,
that is, received nine inches of the white goop. Some places south of
here got ten or more. And oddly enough, St. Cloud got bupkiss. The
north burbs received justice for a change. Usually they're the ones who
get hammered, but not this time. The storm pretty much stopped at the
NW corner of the Cities, and the road to Fargo was clear. While I was
outside snowblowing yesterday, I just happened to look up and caught
some of that fluffy white stuff on my tongue. (My mouth was open
because I was gasping for air---snowblowing takes a lot of energy, so
no sneers from you southerners) So, in the spirit of that eternal
connosieur of snowflakes, Lucy Van Pelt, (my heroine, in case you
hadn't guessed), I will attempt to describe just what they tasted like.

Chicken.

Because, you know, everything
tastes like chicken nowadays. Including snowflakes. Ok, that was lame.
I apologize. I'm in a wierd mood today. Don't mind me. In fact, you
should probably just leave this site altogether before reading any
more. It's for your own good.
--- Fun sites to visit today, courtesy of the husband. - Hate H2's?
With a passion? Go here.

These are my people.

- If you're gearing up to go to the bars and need a new pickup line, you should probably go here.

Personal fav not listed on the site:
How do you like your eggs in the morning?
UNFERTILIZED!

And yes, some guy actually tried that one on me back in the heady single days of yore.

--- YES!
Woo-damn-hoo! {Happy Dance!}
Free speech is free speech! The spending of money is NOT free speech.
If you've got a wad, spend it elsewhere! Stop trying to influence my
vote and the way the government is run! Oh, whoops. YOU CAN'T DO THAT
ANYMORE! {Evil chuckle.}
Hallelujah! Now, get rid of that damn electoral college and we'll
really be styling!
--- Yeah, that's the difference between this adminstration and the Europeans.

We take the bull by the horns. They go running to the bureaucracies trying to appeal.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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