The Things That Suck Up

The Things That Suck Up Gandalf's Memory

My cousin sent me this last year when Martha was indicted. I didn't have a blog then.

I do now.

Heh.

Posted by: Kathy at 08:13 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 38 words, total size 1 kb.

The Things That Suck Up

The Things That Suck Up Gandalf's Memory

My cousin sent me this last year when Martha was indicted. I didn't have a blog then.

I do now.

Heh.

Posted by: Kathy at 08:13 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 38 words, total size 1 kb.

Monster Hostas I'm fiddling around

Monster Hostas


I'm fiddling around with this photo hosting software. Changes will be made while I'm trying to figure this whole thing out.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:59 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 33 words, total size 1 kb.

Monster Hostas I'm fiddling around

Monster Hostas


I'm fiddling around with this photo hosting software. Changes will be made while I'm trying to figure this whole thing out.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:59 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 33 words, total size 1 kb.

So, while I'm waiting for

So, while I'm waiting for the typists at the networks to get their fat
fingers moving so I can have a transcript of the President's speech,
let me note one thing:
Not one of the Big Five broadcasters---ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, or
PBS---preempted their programming to show the President's speech. One
local affliate here in the Twin Cities, Kare11 the NBC affliate,
preempted "Fear Factor" to show the speech. And that's it.
If you didn't have cable or satellite, you were screwed if you wanted
to see the speech.
The media bleats on about the fact that the "President doesn't have a
clear plan for Iraq." He presents one and they don't cover it because
it interferes with their plans to rape their advertisers next fall.
And the media claims it isn't biased? To quote that immortal poet Wayne
Campbell: "Sha. Right. And monkeys might fly out of my ass."

Posted by: Kathy at 07:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 160 words, total size 1 kb.

So, while I'm waiting for

So, while I'm waiting for the typists at the networks to get their fat
fingers moving so I can have a transcript of the President's speech,
let me note one thing:
Not one of the Big Five broadcasters---ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, or
PBS---preempted their programming to show the President's speech. One
local affliate here in the Twin Cities, Kare11 the NBC affliate,
preempted "Fear Factor" to show the speech. And that's it.
If you didn't have cable or satellite, you were screwed if you wanted
to see the speech.
The media bleats on about the fact that the "President doesn't have a
clear plan for Iraq." He presents one and they don't cover it because
it interferes with their plans to rape their advertisers next fall.
And the media claims it isn't biased? To quote that immortal poet Wayne
Campbell: "Sha. Right. And monkeys might fly out of my ass."

Posted by: Kathy at 07:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 160 words, total size 1 kb.

--- You know, until Saturday

--- You know, until Saturday afternoon I had no clue as to who Micah Wright was. Want the scoop---Michele, as usual, has it covered.
Scroll down to the bottom and read from there. Long story short: to not
catch flack for putting out repulsive anti-war posters, he said he was
a Vet. A Ranger to be precise. When the flack stopped coming his way,
he decided to take the lie even further and in every post he left on
multitudinous message boards kept up with the lie as a way of winning
the argument. Basically his argument was I
served, you didn't. I'm right. You're wrong. You have no business ever
saying anything about the war ever again because you never served.
This lie also helped him reap a book contract and a lot of publicity.
Then people got suspicious. His accounts didn't match up with the
truth. And eventually the Washington Post outed him. The blogosphere
has been up in arms about this one all weekend long. Now, I had no idea
who Micah Wright was before this weekend. But I did know a Ranger once
upon a time and I'm offended on her behalf because of this jerk. She
was my roommate for a summer in college. Her name was Sarah. I'm
ashamed to say I don't remember her last name, because she was very
cool, but I wasn't there very often and neither was she. The first time
I met her, I'd already moved in and wasn't there when she'd arrived. I
waited for days for her to arrive, but she'd apparently been delayed
because of a flight screwup. I went about my business and one hot
afternoon in late May, I walked into my room and was surprised to see a
slightly framed brunette standing there in her bra and a pair of
shorts, an open suitcase at her feet. She was in the middle of the
tricky process of removing a small white, surgical taped bandage from
her skin. Never one to be surprised at anything, she just looked up and
smiled and said, "You must be Kathy. It's nice to finally meet you,"
while she kept on with her work. After introducing myself and doing the
usual greeting thing, I watched her replace the old bandage with a
fresh one after applying a generous coating of Neosporin. She swiftly
and precisely taped it off and then threw her t-shirt back on. I
couldn't help but ask: "What happened?" The bandaged spot was a little
to the left and north of her left breast. It looked like it hurt. I
rubbed the same spot on my left breast, much in the same way a man will
reflexively grab himself when he sees another man get kicked in the
crotch. "I just got my jump wings,"
she replied nonchalantly. "Unfortunately, it got infected."
"What'd you do? Poke yourself with something when you were
parachuting?" I asked.
"Nope," she said laughingly. "Don't know much about Rangers, do you?"
There was no condescension in her question.
"No," I replied. "Well, when you get your jump wings, they don't attach
the backing to the pin when they award it to you. They hand it to you."
"Huh?" This made no sense. "I'm not getting it."
She just smiled and changed the subject. I let it go, but brought it up
to the husband later on and he nodded approvingly. "Kath," he said,
"They call it blood winging.
Her commander took the pin and instead of pinning it on her, he slammed
it into her...probably with a helmet or with his hand. And then he
probably handed her the backing to the pin. It's tradition. It's
probably a much tougher process with the Rangers than with other
branches." Damn. I thought, and had a great deal of respect for her for
enduring that. And over the summer, I gained a great deal of respect
for her. That was one tough, motivated chick. She was the only
female in her jump class, too. There was no way she could back down,
even if she had wanted to. Micah Wright, spineless simp that he is,
would have probably pissed himself at the mere thought of going through
that.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:05 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 716 words, total size 4 kb.

--- You know, until Saturday

--- You know, until Saturday afternoon I had no clue as to who Micah Wright was. Want the scoop---Michele, as usual, has it covered.
Scroll down to the bottom and read from there. Long story short: to not
catch flack for putting out repulsive anti-war posters, he said he was
a Vet. A Ranger to be precise. When the flack stopped coming his way,
he decided to take the lie even further and in every post he left on
multitudinous message boards kept up with the lie as a way of winning
the argument. Basically his argument was I
served, you didn't. I'm right. You're wrong. You have no business ever
saying anything about the war ever again because you never served.
This lie also helped him reap a book contract and a lot of publicity.
Then people got suspicious. His accounts didn't match up with the
truth. And eventually the Washington Post outed him. The blogosphere
has been up in arms about this one all weekend long. Now, I had no idea
who Micah Wright was before this weekend. But I did know a Ranger once
upon a time and I'm offended on her behalf because of this jerk. She
was my roommate for a summer in college. Her name was Sarah. I'm
ashamed to say I don't remember her last name, because she was very
cool, but I wasn't there very often and neither was she. The first time
I met her, I'd already moved in and wasn't there when she'd arrived. I
waited for days for her to arrive, but she'd apparently been delayed
because of a flight screwup. I went about my business and one hot
afternoon in late May, I walked into my room and was surprised to see a
slightly framed brunette standing there in her bra and a pair of
shorts, an open suitcase at her feet. She was in the middle of the
tricky process of removing a small white, surgical taped bandage from
her skin. Never one to be surprised at anything, she just looked up and
smiled and said, "You must be Kathy. It's nice to finally meet you,"
while she kept on with her work. After introducing myself and doing the
usual greeting thing, I watched her replace the old bandage with a
fresh one after applying a generous coating of Neosporin. She swiftly
and precisely taped it off and then threw her t-shirt back on. I
couldn't help but ask: "What happened?" The bandaged spot was a little
to the left and north of her left breast. It looked like it hurt. I
rubbed the same spot on my left breast, much in the same way a man will
reflexively grab himself when he sees another man get kicked in the
crotch. "I just got my jump wings,"
she replied nonchalantly. "Unfortunately, it got infected."
"What'd you do? Poke yourself with something when you were
parachuting?" I asked.
"Nope," she said laughingly. "Don't know much about Rangers, do you?"
There was no condescension in her question.
"No," I replied. "Well, when you get your jump wings, they don't attach
the backing to the pin when they award it to you. They hand it to you."
"Huh?" This made no sense. "I'm not getting it."
She just smiled and changed the subject. I let it go, but brought it up
to the husband later on and he nodded approvingly. "Kath," he said,
"They call it blood winging.
Her commander took the pin and instead of pinning it on her, he slammed
it into her...probably with a helmet or with his hand. And then he
probably handed her the backing to the pin. It's tradition. It's
probably a much tougher process with the Rangers than with other
branches." Damn. I thought, and had a great deal of respect for her for
enduring that. And over the summer, I gained a great deal of respect
for her. That was one tough, motivated chick. She was the only
female in her jump class, too. There was no way she could back down,
even if she had wanted to. Micah Wright, spineless simp that he is,
would have probably pissed himself at the mere thought of going through
that.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:05 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 716 words, total size 4 kb.

Agenda for the evening: 1.

Agenda for the evening:

1. Pizza
2. State of Play on BBCAmerica
3. Read.
In all truthfullness, this book is boring the hell out of me. Stalin.
Ugh. But I'm far enough into it now that I have to see where it goes,
even though I have a pretty good idea already. Have a lovely night.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:04 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 66 words, total size 1 kb.

Agenda for the evening: 1.

Agenda for the evening:

1. Pizza
2. State of Play on BBCAmerica
3. Read.
In all truthfullness, this book is boring the hell out of me. Stalin.
Ugh. But I'm far enough into it now that I have to see where it goes,
even though I have a pretty good idea already. Have a lovely night.

Posted by: Kathy at 06:04 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 66 words, total size 1 kb.

You can find the deluuuuuuuuusion

You can find the deluuuuuuuuusion here.

Time for Moore, an Academy Award winner for his gun-culture
documentary ``Bowling for Columbine,'' to tell all on himself.
``There's a character that is often written about that is often times
largely invented by the media, and it's called Michael Moore,'' said
Moore, 50, whose previous credits include ``Roger & Me'' and the
television shows ``TV Nation'' and ``The Awful
Truth.'' ``It took me a few years to figure this out, but that guy
isn't really me.
``I read things, negative things about my flaws or whatever. I go, you
know, they don't have to make this stuff up. If anybody would just ask
me, I have lots of things wrong with me.''
The awful truth about Moore: Work ethic. ``I'm lazy. I'm a lethargic
individual. I strive
to do nothing. ... I watch too much TV. Some days, I watch four, five
hours of TV, just completely vegged out, completely zoned out.''
Reading habits. ``I don't read enough novels, I don't read enough
fiction. I love to do that, and I don't take the time to do it. I'm not
as well read as I should be on that level.''
Body and spirit. ``I clearly have put my health second. Taking care of
myself is second to everything else I'm doing. That's a horribly stupid
thing to do.''
Despite his pudginess, Moore said doctors routinely proclaim him in
good health, though they admonish him, ```Mike, get up and walk around
the block.' I don't do that.''
``I don't take care of my spiritual needs as well as I should. I try to
go to Mass as often as I can, but not out of some obligation, some rule
of the church, a hierarchy that I completely disagree with. Its
attitudes and policies and treatment of women. I come from the other
end of Mel Gibson's Catholic church.''
Self image. ``I'm very shy, I'm very introverted. I think I was able to
ask out one girl in high school, and I didn't do much better after high
school, and I just had to wait around for people to ask me out. I can't
stand looking at myself in a movie. ... I don't have enough of an ego.
I read that (about his supposed egomania), but then I remember, that's
that other Michael Moore.''

There's a pill out there for everything, right? Question of the day: is
there a pill large enough that it could work on Michael Moore? UPDATE: Not only is Moore in need of psychiatric help, he's a founding member of the Copperhead Feyadeen. My homework's done, Mom. Can I go and watch TV now?

UPDATE 2: It would probably help if I learned how to spell
"fedayeen."

Posted by: Kathy at 05:23 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 467 words, total size 3 kb.

You can find the deluuuuuuuuusion

You can find the deluuuuuuuuusion here.

Time for Moore, an Academy Award winner for his gun-culture
documentary ``Bowling for Columbine,'' to tell all on himself.
``There's a character that is often written about that is often times
largely invented by the media, and it's called Michael Moore,'' said
Moore, 50, whose previous credits include ``Roger & Me'' and the
television shows ``TV Nation'' and ``The Awful
Truth.'' ``It took me a few years to figure this out, but that guy
isn't really me.
``I read things, negative things about my flaws or whatever. I go, you
know, they don't have to make this stuff up. If anybody would just ask
me, I have lots of things wrong with me.''
The awful truth about Moore: Work ethic. ``I'm lazy. I'm a lethargic
individual. I strive
to do nothing. ... I watch too much TV. Some days, I watch four, five
hours of TV, just completely vegged out, completely zoned out.''
Reading habits. ``I don't read enough novels, I don't read enough
fiction. I love to do that, and I don't take the time to do it. I'm not
as well read as I should be on that level.''
Body and spirit. ``I clearly have put my health second. Taking care of
myself is second to everything else I'm doing. That's a horribly stupid
thing to do.''
Despite his pudginess, Moore said doctors routinely proclaim him in
good health, though they admonish him, ```Mike, get up and walk around
the block.' I don't do that.''
``I don't take care of my spiritual needs as well as I should. I try to
go to Mass as often as I can, but not out of some obligation, some rule
of the church, a hierarchy that I completely disagree with. Its
attitudes and policies and treatment of women. I come from the other
end of Mel Gibson's Catholic church.''
Self image. ``I'm very shy, I'm very introverted. I think I was able to
ask out one girl in high school, and I didn't do much better after high
school, and I just had to wait around for people to ask me out. I can't
stand looking at myself in a movie. ... I don't have enough of an ego.
I read that (about his supposed egomania), but then I remember, that's
that other Michael Moore.''

There's a pill out there for everything, right? Question of the day: is
there a pill large enough that it could work on Michael Moore? UPDATE: Not only is Moore in need of psychiatric help, he's a founding member of the Copperhead Feyadeen. My homework's done, Mom. Can I go and watch TV now?

UPDATE 2: It would probably help if I learned how to spell
"fedayeen."

Posted by: Kathy at 05:23 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 467 words, total size 3 kb.

This is just freaking horrible.

This is just freaking horrible. (Courtesy of one of Michele's commenters)
Everyone has been ranting and raving about this all day long. The
general replies are twofold: I'm glad I've got the originals on VHS and
Lucas will have to pry them out of my cold dead fingers to get them
back and that the fat cat is where he is because of us; that they're
our movies, too, etc. I've just got one point to add: when's he going
to edit out the work of an actor who's still living? Sebastian Shaw died in 1994.
So far, he's only fooled with bits and pieces related to CGI wonders
and has fiddled with the plot to make it more kiddie-friendly(HAN SHOT
FIRST, DAMNIT!). Now he's descrating the work of a man who cannot
object to this treatment because he's no longer with us. If that's not
the ultimate cheap shot, I don't know what is.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:17 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 165 words, total size 1 kb.

This is just freaking horrible.

This is just freaking horrible. (Courtesy of one of Michele's commenters)
Everyone has been ranting and raving about this all day long. The
general replies are twofold: I'm glad I've got the originals on VHS and
Lucas will have to pry them out of my cold dead fingers to get them
back and that the fat cat is where he is because of us; that they're
our movies, too, etc. I've just got one point to add: when's he going
to edit out the work of an actor who's still living? Sebastian Shaw died in 1994.
So far, he's only fooled with bits and pieces related to CGI wonders
and has fiddled with the plot to make it more kiddie-friendly(HAN SHOT
FIRST, DAMNIT!). Now he's descrating the work of a man who cannot
object to this treatment because he's no longer with us. If that's not
the ultimate cheap shot, I don't know what is.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:17 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 165 words, total size 1 kb.

--- Looney Toon fans beware.

--- Looney Toon fans beware. I'm about to do some desecrating. I
noticed a long time ago that "Jaques Chirac" rhymed rather well with
"Blaque Jacques Shellaque." You remember Blaque Jacques from when he
did battle with Bugs in the Yukon, right? Well, seeing as how he's
French (ok, Quebecois if you insist on cartoon nationalistic purity),
and how their names rhyme, I thought it might be fun to play with
graphics. Ok, well, the husband played with the graphics because I'm no
good at it. Without further ado...Blacque Jacques Chirac



If someone wants to improve on it, by all means, go for it.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:16 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 114 words, total size 1 kb.

--- Looney Toon fans beware.

--- Looney Toon fans beware. I'm about to do some desecrating. I
noticed a long time ago that "Jaques Chirac" rhymed rather well with
"Blaque Jacques Shellaque." You remember Blaque Jacques from when he
did battle with Bugs in the Yukon, right? Well, seeing as how he's
French (ok, Quebecois if you insist on cartoon nationalistic purity),
and how their names rhyme, I thought it might be fun to play with
graphics. Ok, well, the husband played with the graphics because I'm no
good at it. Without further ado...Blacque Jacques Chirac



If someone wants to improve on it, by all means, go for it.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:16 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 114 words, total size 1 kb.

Oh. Whoops. That was Ricky

Oh. Whoops. That was Ricky Martin. Not Marc Anthony.
But it works, right? {audience nods collective head} See! That's what I
thought. I'll be damned if I'm going to throw away a perfectly good
quip due to problems with accuracy when it involves a story about JLo.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:06 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 57 words, total size 1 kb.

Oh. Whoops. That was Ricky

Oh. Whoops. That was Ricky Martin. Not Marc Anthony.
But it works, right? {audience nods collective head} See! That's what I
thought. I'll be damned if I'm going to throw away a perfectly good
quip due to problems with accuracy when it involves a story about JLo.

Posted by: Kathy at 05:06 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 57 words, total size 1 kb.

This went off without a

This went
off without a hitch. A long and happy life to them and a hearty
congratulations to the security services of Denmark for a job well
done.
What worries me, however, is a wedding that's happening next week. In Madrid.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 51 words, total size 1 kb.

This went off without a

This went
off without a hitch. A long and happy life to them and a hearty
congratulations to the security services of Denmark for a job well
done.
What worries me, however, is a wedding that's happening next week. In Madrid.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 51 words, total size 1 kb.