...is more than just that.

...is more than just that. It's a freedom enabler.

HAVANA (Reuters) - Kendry Morales, considered Cuba's most
promising young baseball player, has defected to the United States to
pursue his dream of playing in the major leagues, his family said on
Wednesday. The 20-year-old switch-hitting slugger had been suspended
earlier this year by Cuba's National Baseball Commission after several
foiled attempts to leave the island. "On Friday he left home with some
friends and never came back," said his stepfather, Henry Nunez, at
their home in Las Guasimas on the outskirts of Havana. "He called
yesterday from Miami to say he arrived fine. His dream is to play in
the big leagues and now the doors will open for him," Nunez said.
Miami's Spanish-language El Nuevo Herald reported on Wednesday that
Morales crossed the Florida Straits on Saturday night on a boat with 18
other Cubans, including former baseball coach Orlando Chinea. {...}In
the 2003 Cuban baseball season, Morales batted .391 with nine home runs
and 42 runs batted in for national champion Industriales.

The boy's got talent. The boy's got switch-hitting skills. The boy's
got guts. The boy has dreams and now that he's made the crossing and is
safe on American soil he can make those dreams come true.
Would that have happened in Fidel's Cuba? Is Fidel's Cuba a place where
dreams come true---or a place where you can at least have a shot at
making them come true?
I think not. Communism is not only bad for the pocketbook, the body and
the mind---it's bad for the soul.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:34 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I think this was the

I think this was the Karen Blixen breed

Posted by: Kathy at 02:33 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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First of a lot of

First of a lot of rose pictures (click to make huge!)

Posted by: Kathy at 02:32 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Rose Garden

Rose Garden

Posted by: Kathy at 02:30 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Words to Live By

Words to Live By

Posted by: Kathy at 02:29 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Rich crossed the Rubicon. An

Rich crossed the Rubicon.

An unusual subject, I admit. We are all pigs. We operate on
the most basic of animal levels. I have never seen so many men hit on a
sixteen year old as I have this weekend. And why? A short dress, that's
why. Is this how we operate? A lamp just took out several crystal wine
glasses behind me. A sign of our times? Our gender? perhaps.

Dude, it may be true, but just like women are never supposed to admit that we're shoe whores or that we really do
think there's a right answer to the question, "Does my ass look huge in
this?", men are never supposed to admit that they're pigs. It's simply
not done, my friend. Recommended course of action now that the cat is
out of the bag?
DENY EVERYTHING! SHRED THE EVIDENCE! CLAIM THAT IT WAS THE GHOST OF
RICHARD NIXON WHO GOT YOU DRUNK! But for the love of all that is good
and holy, take it back!

Posted by: Kathy at 02:29 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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A Lady and Her Harp

A
Lady and Her Harp

Posted by: Kathy at 02:28 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Question is, what does "taking

Question is, what does "taking something at face value" mean to General Omar el-Bashir?

KHARTOUM, Sudan - Sudan's president, under international
pressure to end killings of civilians in the western Darfur region,
said the armed forces will disarm the Arab militias blamed for what the
United Nations (news - web sites) has called a humanitarian crisis.
President Omar el-Bashir said in a statement Saturday said he was
ordering a "complete mobilization" of all Sudanese army and security
forces to disarm all Darfur's warring parties, including the janjaweed
— nomadic Arab militia that the government has been accused of
supporting. Fighting between Arab militias and the black African
population has killed thousands of people and forced more than 1
million to flee their homes. International rights groups say the
government has backed the Arab militia in an ethnic cleansing campaign
against the African villagers. The government has strongly denied the
accusations, saying the conflict was a result of tribal conflicts over
land and water resources.

What the hell does this mean? And by that I mean what does it mean in reality,
because Bashir is supporting the militias right now. How can he switch
sides now and more importantly, why would he want to? What interest
does it serve?
He's caving to international pressure? I don't think so. This guy has
waged war for twenty years in the south and only caved to international
pressure after the US lobbed a few cruise missles into Khartoum which
demolished an aspirin factory, and President Bush gave a short speech
on the evening of 9/11 declaring that we would go after the state
sponsors of terrorism. Those moves told Bashir we meant business and he replied appropriately and got his butt to the bargaining table.

In other words, this move isn't because Kofi told him he had to protect the people under fire in Darfur.

What's scared him into acting, or at least declaring he's going to act? Furthermore, can we take him at his word? (Which I don't think we can.)

I'll be damned if I know what it means other than the obvious at this moment in time.

{Insert much head scratching here}

Posted by: Kathy at 02:27 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Benon Sevan has the reason

Benon Sevan has the reason why all that moolah found its way into his others' pockets.

In
his e-mail message, Mr. Sevan said he was the victim of an "intense
smear campaign." He defended the oil-for-food program as having made "a
real difference in the daily lives of the average Iraqi people." As
long as economic sanctions were in place, he added, "there was no
alternative to the program." But, he continued, "it could have been
better administered had we been allowed by the member states to do so."
Mr. Sevan did not explain in his e-mail message how the Security
Council had hampered him from effectively administering the sprawling
program. But diplomats and United Nations officials said it was what
one called "common knowledge" that member states were ignoring the
widespread complaints about kickbacks and payoffs by Saddam Hussein's
government so that their companies could continue being part of the
lucrative program.

Typical UN tactics. It's never their fault.
First he pulls the "I'm being smeared" line and then he puts the blame
on members of the Security Council because, of course, that's where the
problem was. It was the member states, stupid. They were getting kickbacks and they didn't want anyone goofing with that.

Man, is anyone responsible for anything
at the UN, or is it always someone else's fault? What about the
janitors? If they don't take the trash out, do they blame it on someone
else? Forgive me, Sevon, but weren't you in charge of administering
this program? Weren't you charged with the task of making sure that the
money made from the sale of oil went for food to keep the Iraqi public
from the brink of starvation? Wasn't that YOUR job? Or was it just good enough that they were on the brink of starving
and not actually starving. Because there is a difference and I'm sure,
of all people, Benon, you know this. Was it your goal, Benon, to make
sure just enough food got to the people so that no one noticed all the
money that lined your pockets? Was that your plan to keep yourself in
the clear? God, if it was, I can see where you'd be so cheesed off that
you're suddenly being investigated and "smeared." After all, you were
just keeping everyone---and by that I mean the French and the
Russians---happy, weren't you? So, basically the message Sevon
unwittingly is delivering is that:
a. He's incompetent
b. The UN is a bloated bureaucratic nightmare because even he, the most
gifted and skilled of operators, couldn't navigate its unwiedly
labyrinth of corruption. He's confirmed this for us by placing the
blame on the Security Council.
If it hasn't already happened, wait for Sevon to take advantage of the
"fruit of the poisoned tree" defense in regard to Ahmad Chalabi. It
would go something like this: Chalabi was on the Governing Council.
Chalabi wanted KPMG to investigate the kickbacks. Bremer wanted Ernst
and Young to do the math---and he won. After this little catfight,
Chalabi lost favor with the US by having chatted with Iran, and
Chalabi's reputation is currently in tatters. Look for Sevon to point
the finger at Chalabi and henceforth deny any of the accusations
because they came from the Governing Council of which Chalabi plays a
very big role in guiding.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The husband and I went

The husband and I went for yet another walk over at Lake Harriet this
afternoon. While we have more than a few lakes to choose from---three
to be precise--we prefer to walk around Lake Harriet. Calhoun doesn't
have as much foliage and isn't as pretty, in my opinion. Its location
is closer to Uptown, which also means it's a meat market, as well. I'm
not pretty enough to hang out there. Or I am, I just don't see the need
to get all glammed up for a walk around a lake. Lake of the Isles is
nearby as well, but it's kind of far away compared to Harriet. Harriet
also has the advantage of the rose garden, which was in full bloom
today. Gorgeous. Of course, I dragged the camera with and took some
pictures for your enjoyment.
Today, there was also a lady playing a harp at the lake. It wasn't
anything orchestrated---she'd apparently hauled her harp over to the
south side of the lake and just wanted to play while looking out over
the lake. As the husband said: why would anyone want to move to the
outer suburbs? You just don't get this sort of stuff out there.
He's right.
Pictures forthcoming.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:18 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I was all prepared to

I was all prepared to unleash my flaming sword of righteousness upon this article but Robert at The Llama Butchers beat me to it.

On the Lewinsky Coverup Impeachment:
"The whole battle was a badge of honor. I don't see it as a stain,
because it was illegitimate."
Stain? Interesting choice of words. I'm glad he didn't use the term
"bad taste".
On Meany Republicans:
"When the Berlin wall fell, the perpetual right in America, which
always needs an enemy, didn't have an enemy any more, so I had to serve
as the next best thing," Clinton said.
Another interesting choice. Let me see if I have this straight: Ronald
Reagan conservatives took on the worst totalitarian empire the world
has ever seen, one responsible for literally hundreds of millions of
deaths and unquantifiable misery, sacrificing God only knows how much
in terms of (pardon the cliche) blood, sweat and tears, dragging along
a bunch of obstinate, whiney and sometimes outright hostile allies at
home and abroad, and eventually crushing this Evil - all because we
needed an enemy? And after it was defeated - Bubba was the next one in
line?
Think about the implications behind Clinton's pop-psychology: If
Conservative actions are based on nothing more than an internal need to
kick someone or something in the ass, then whoever's ass is being
kicked is simply a victim. Communists, fascists, Bubba, whoever.
Doesn't matter if they're good, bad or indifferent, they're just
victims. Gorbachov, Castro, Saddam - just minding their own business
when they were suddenly cold-cocked by testosterone-crazed Conservative
whack jobs looking for a fight. And let's not even get into the
egomaniacal implications of comparing oneself, even if one is the
President, with a seventy-year old global-scale system of tyranny.
Unbelievable.

Unbelievable is right. And I think Robert's on to something here.
Now, I try not to waste my time with Bubba. Ultimately, bitching about
the Clintons is an exercise in frustration that will finally cause me
to succumb to the family disease (hypertension) and honestly, I don't
think either one of them is worth a spike in my blood pressure. After
all, he could hardly begrudge me for this, right? It's
self-preservation, and we know that Bubba's all
about self-preservation. He never fears to invoke that clause from the
Human Handbook, but I can't really help myself today. What an ass. I
never voted for the guy, so my conscience is clear on that front. The
fall of 1992 was my first semester of senior year. I'd moved into a
room in our sorority house with two very close friends of mine, who as
it happened, both wound up voting for Bubba. I refused to discuss the
election with either one of them. Not so much because I didn't want to
discuss the issues: I did, but their reasoning for voting for this man
was, and I quote: "Bill has textured hair and Al Gore is a babe." The
first time they both said this, my jaw dropped and I walked from our
room in a stupor. Because I knew they both believed it. That
was their actual reasoning. And no, I'm not joking. Their complaints
seemed to revolved aroud the fact that they were pissed off that
America had been run by fuddy-duddies for years and here was this cool
guy with textured hair, who'd gone on Arsenio and played his saxophone
and they were going to vote for him because of this. That was their reasoning for voting for Clinton.
Not the economy, not foreign policy, not anything remotely involved
with running the government; they wanted someone cool in the White
House; someone with charisma. And boy did Clinton ever have loads of
charisma. No matter what else repulses you about the guy, you have to
give him points for charisma. For better or worse, he's got it. I
remember watching his acceptance speech at the Democratic Convention
that year, and the phrase if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is
kept wandering around in my head. I was a political science major in
college. I felt I had to watch it to see what the guy was saying. That
didn't stop my brother from coming into the TV room and yelling his
fool head off. My brother Dave is a golf nut. At the time, one of his
favorite places to practice his swing was in the family room. High
ceilings, lots of swinging space, and CNN. He kept a driver, his
seven-iron and a putter under the sofa and he'd swing away while
watching TV. I remember him walking over to the sofa, pulling his
driver out, and then noticing what was on the boober. His jaw dropped
and he suddenly became enraged, so much so that I kept thinking he was
going to swing his driver straight into the old RCA. He kept saying, "How
can you believe a word this guy says? I lived in Arkansas when he was
governor! It was a shit place. It still is a shit place! He's corrupt
as hell! And so on and so forth. I told him to shut up. That I
couldn't effectively judge for myself if I couldn't hear what the guy
had to say. Dave left the room in a huff, his three-wood clasped
righteously in his hand, and I listened on. And that was the last time
I really listened to Bubba because, like my brother, I didn't buy a
fucking word the guy said. He was a fibber. A stretcher of the truth.
Someone who claimed credit for other people's work. He was, to put it
another way, the proverbial used-car salesman. Someone whose ego was so
strong and so unbreakable that he refused to see what everyone else
could. The husband thinks Bubba is delusional. I personally think the
guy fits the definition of meglomaniacal.
If you added up Robert's, the husband's and my diagnoses he would be a
delusegomeglomaniac. (phew!) Whatever the psychological condition's
name is, it's pretty obvious he's afflicted with it. The man's brain
isn't wired correctly. It just isn't. His mom turned tricks for a
living---which is not a nice way to put it, but it's true. I can't
remember if his father disappeared or if he died, and it doesn't really
matter. His brother dealt coke. Little Bubba learned that certain
unacceptabe behavior, if you couched it just right, would be overlooked
and he took this lesson all the way to the White house. He's not well.
Really and honestly he's not. That he didn't think lying under oath was
wrong, that screwing around with an intern "just because he could"
wasn't wrong, that he was victimized by the Republicans just because
they needed a punching bag is further proof that this guy is legally
insane. But he's got textured hair, so that apparently makes it all
right.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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In my tireless slog to

In my tireless slog to bring my readers fresh, bloggy goodness, there are a few new links on the left.

We have The Llama Butchers, Fausta at The Bad Hair Blog and seldom sober.
Check them out. They take the discussion to new and interesting places
and are well worth your time. I've been meaning to do this for quite
some time, alas, however the Blogger Template kept goofing on me and I
needed the husband to fix it. I should probably explain my policy on
blogrolling. It's probably obvious by the size of it that I don't
blogroll the way most bloggers do. A lot of bloggers have a boatload of
links up on their sites, and that's great. It provides a lot of
recognition to up and coming bloggers and opens new doors for them. I
will admit that every time the Cake Eater Chronicles makes a blogroll,
I'm thrilled to pieces. I'm not knocking the way the majority of
bloggers do this. I'm just choosing to do it differently. If I link to
a blog under the "Daily Reads" section, it means that I'm putting my
money where my mouth is: those are
my daily reads. I check them out on a daily basis, unless I'm out of
the country, sans laptop, sitting on a beach, drinking a pina colada
and earning twenty percent on the non-negotiable bearer bonds I just
stole out of the vault at Nakatomi Plaza... Anyway, while my blogroll
might be smaller than most, at least you know I'm not gratuitously
linking to people whom I never read.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:07 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Sides are being chosen in

Sides are being chosen in the cage match. People are in my corner.

Take this,
Robert!
How many people do you have supporting you, Robert? Besides Steve, that
is? And the Llamas you have in the pen outside your office? We can't
forget the llamas. Even though they are about to be slaughtered,
because after all, you are a butcher. What do you have to say to that,
eh? Who's in your corner?

To quote yourself: you've been served!

UPDATE: Even more support. HA!

Posted by: Kathy at 02:06 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I think I've mentioned before

I think I've mentioned before that, when it comes to the Internet, the
husband is like a little boy on summer vacation. You send him out the
door first thing in the morning and when he comes home he's filthy with
a toad hanging out of his pocket---and you really don't want to know
where his activities over the course of the day have taken him. The
husband spends a lot of time surfing the web. Mostly he does this for
work, but he does have a tendency to come across some interesting
things. Like anything, this has its ups and downs, but for the most
part the Internet is a glorious thing and if you want something
researched, he's your dude.
I have no idea what led him to this
but I have to say, it's pretty damn cool.
And, as a former shortwave radio junkie, I know what this is all about,
because I've heard a number station in the past.
If you've never listened to a shortwave radio, or even just goofed
around with one, this must be pretty confusing, so I'll try to explain.
I bought my shortwave radio for one main reason: to rid myself of
having to listen to OJOJOJ!
all the damn time. This being the time before broadband and RealOne
player, it was a great alternative to the American media. I got to
listen to the BBC World Service, Deutche Welle's English language
broadcasts, Radio Netherlands. A whole new world of media had opened up
for me, but as any shortwave listener can tell you, there are
challenges to shortwave operation. Since shortwave signals can carry
across the globe, they don't travel at the same atmospheric height as
an FM or AM band would: they travel through the ionosphere, which if
you'll remember grade school science class, is way the heck up there in
the sky. As a result, due to line of sight and all sorts of other
interesting scientific conundrums you only can listen to certain
stations at certain times of day, depending upon if there's a
transmitter in your hemisphere. (Just as an example, I used to pick the
BBC World Service up off of one of their transmitters in the
Caribbean.) You also have a problem with reception if there's a massive
wave of solar flares. This alters the chemistry of the ionosphere and
makes for listening issues, although, depending upon the severity of
the flares, it can also help with reception---you never know. In my
experience, it hurt more than it helped, but it might be different for
other people. I had no idea that when the husband gave me my radio that
I was going to have to become knowledgeable in this sort of thing, but
I did and I figured it out in my limited way and was able to listen to
the BBC World Service every day when I was cooking dinner. I loved it.
The one thing that bugged me, however, was that due to all those
atmospheric requirements, the frequencies changed often. Just as I was
used to finding the BBC at 5pm at 6200MHz, because of the seasons and
the tilt of the Earth in relation to the sun, it would switch all the
way up the dial to 15500MHz---and so on and so forth. You could rarely
find the same broadcast at the same position on the dial unless you
were a daily listener. This, of course, says nothing about the annoying
fact that the Beeb would switch transmitters at six p.m. and then you'd
have to find the rest of the broadcast on a different band. But, to a
certain extent, all of this was part of the challenge and being forced
to switch frequencies wasn't necessarily a bad thing as you might find
something new in the process. This was how I found Deutche Welle and
Radio Netherlands. Well, long story short, it was during one of these
switchoffs that I found one of these number stations. If you're
monolingual like me, the sound of English on shortwave catches you
instantly, because most shortwave stations are in Spanish, Chinese or
other languages. English makes you stop rolling the dial and forces you
to listen. I stood there and listened to an automated female voice,
which sounded like eerily like the Time and Temperature service when I
was growing up, read off a series of numbers. I didn't know what it was
for and I moved on when I realized it was of no help in fulfilling my
news jones, but it was interesting in a I wonder what that's for
sort of way.
Well, now I know. How it works is this: a spy will tune in on a certain
frequency (they're usually utility bands in between regular
bands---most shortwave users will not be able to pick these up,
although I have no idea how I found it: my radio isn't digital and by
all rights I shouldn't have been able to find it, let alone hear
it--must've been a solar flare.)and will listen for a series of
numbers. These numbers are then written down by the spy. The spy will
then use a code pad and will translate these seemingly random numbers
into a series of directives from the home office. Spies have used this
for years, and they're still using this system of communication. Why do
they do this when there's encrypted email, secure satellite phones and
more advanced technological equipment available nowadays? Well, mainly
because it's shrouded in simplicity: shortwave signals have been used
to transmit intelligence findings by spies since WWI. The habit is long
established, and unless you're a codebreaker and know a. the source of
the broadcast (it has never been fully documented as to who owns what
transmitter and who is sending the material---people have only made
educated guesses) and b. what the code source material is, you're
clueless. It's simple and cheap and still in use today. If it interests
you, poke around on this site and follow some of the links. Fascinating
stuff. Some of the links are mired in technical shortwave jargon, but
you'll get the gist of it.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:03 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The SPLA (The Sudanese People's

The SPLA (The
Sudanese People's Liberation Army), the main opposition group in
southern Sudan's civil war is apparently thinking of getting involved
in Darfur to a greater extent than they already are. This is not a good thing.

Sudanese rebel leaders say they are continuing to observe
the ceasefire in Darfur despite the repeated provocation. But yesterday
Bahar Ibrahim, a spokesman for the Sudanese Liberation Movement/Army
said that patience was wearing thin and the rebels would not stand by
while the Sudanese government continued to wipe out the black African
population of the region. "The humanitarian situation is terrible so we
are observing the ceasefire for our people to get help but there is a
point where we can't keep folding our arms and seeing things going from
bad to worse," he said. He said that the Janjaweed, whom he described
as "the Sudanese government by proxy", was continuing to attack
villages in Darfur, with gunmen killing nine people in Kobe last week
before burning down the village. He said more than a million people,
displaced from their villages, remained inside Sudan, many in camps
around the larger towns, too frightened to leave despite the appalling
conditions. "Malnutrition is rampant among the children but there is a
fear that if they go out they will be attacked or the women raped and
the children kidnapped. The children are really suffering," he said.
"Two weeks ago a large Janjaweed army came and attacked villages and
people around Djabal Moune and some of the people ran to the mountain
and some ran to the border. Some of the Janjaweed followed across the
border," he said. "The Sudanese air force came and gave air support.
They were bombing with aircraft and they had helicopter gunships. Maybe
200 people died. "Unless the ceasefire holds the situation will
deteriorate and there will be no alternative but to go and to defend
the villages. We are appealing to the international community to put in
place the mechanisms to have peace in Darfur."

Uh-oh. I was wondering when this was going to happen, or that at least
that we'd get some confirmation of the SPLA coming in on the side of
the refugees. Hell. Handbasket. Arriving shortly at gate three.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I lied. I didn't blog

I lied.

I didn't blog yesterday.

I woke late, I hosed down the front porch and sidewalk. I gritted my teeth at the teenagers yodeling the phrase, "CAR WASH!"
to passing motorists from the church across the street. I cleaned the
bathroom and washed out the window wells. I took a walk with the
husband. I fried chicken for dinner, and I spent most of the evening
rereading some Clancy novels and placing timelines and following the
development of certain characters across the books. (The best part
about having read all of Clancy's novels is that when you reread them,
you can pick and choose what you read. Executive Orders is
particularly fun on a reread: you can skip all the gooey Ebola-creating
business and get to the part where Jack Ryan pukes in the Oval Office's
bathroom because he's having a crisis of conscience over closing down
all interstate travel to prevent further spread of said virus.) Anyway,
I shouldn't make promises that I'm not going to keep, and furthermore
have absolutely no crisis of conscience over not keeping. It makes me
sound disingenous. Not like I care all that much, but hell, I suppose I
should. I'm responsible that way, she says with a nonchalant shrug of
her shoulders.
Don't expect anything further from me today. It's nice here. I've got
other things to do. Like sit on the lawn and take a nap. I need a
break. This seven days a week blogging is all well and good, but there
are times when the gray matter needs a rest and this, apparently, is
one of them.
Ciao bella and enjoy your Sunday.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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21st Panzer Division reaches the

21st Panzer Division reaches the coast between Juno and Sword beaches.

Coleville-sur-Med secured by Allies.

Allied patrols reach outskirts of Bayeux.

Canadian troops advance to Villons les Buissons, seven miles inland.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:00 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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This is Nellie. She

This is Nellie.

She sure as hell doesn't look like much, does she? And to be sure, her looks were not
Nellie's strongest asset. Her talents were in other areas. Nellie was
never the girl you ogled. Nellie was the girl you married and who gave
birth to your kids.
And after four years of utter faithfulness in the holy bond between car
and owner, the poor girl, as I write this, should be on her way to the
junkyard.
Nellie was never supposed to have lasted this long. We paid $800 for
her in January, 2000 and she was meant to be just temporary car;
something to get us from point a to point b until we could afford
something nicer. But life has a funny way of interfering with grand
plans devised by humans who have an atrocious track record with cars.
We did get something nicer, but thanks to a zealous Hennepin County
prosecutor and a felony DWI conviction, that car is no longer with us,
either. Fortunately, however, we're not car-less for the time being,
due to family members who have a spare and have loaned it to us. Unlike
other times when we've been told that a car needed to be junked,
neither of us is all that upset. Honestly, we're not, and it's a bit
surprising. The inconvenience is outweighed by the relief that the
worst finally
happened. And it's really not the worst, either. We're both of the
opinion that the poor girl deserved a rest and it's for the best. When
we bought her, a friend of mine said the body would fall off before the
engine died and, as you can see from the picture, he wasn't far off.
But she blew a timing chain last week and it was going to cost close to
five hundred bucks to fix her. The husband and I had decided that while
she was a great car, it was time to let her go; that it wasn't worth it
to fix her, particularly when so many other things on her were on the
verge of happening. The rear struts were rusted and on the brink of
collapsing. There was a hole in the fill neck (?) to the gas tank,
which meant, since last summer, we could never fill her with a full
tank of gas or it would leak (and it was dicey taking a cloverleaf that
put the car on an angle where the driver's side was on the bottom---you
could smell the gas leaking---not good)and it was just a matter of time
until the hole got bigger and more deadly. Her body was rusted and she
was bouncy and squeaky in the extreme, and she had a tendency to take
you to the brink of overheating, although she never did. She got us
around, and as long as we kept her in town and off clogged freeways,
she did all right. For all her faults, the only time, and I mean the only
time, she didn't turn over was when she crashed and burned last week.
And about ninety-seven percent of the time she turned over on the first
try. She was reliable in the extreme. And considering that we kept
asking her to deliver long past the point where she should have been
put to pasture, it's surprising that she kept delivering.
Particularly since she had close to 250,000 miles on her.
But she's gone. To junkyard heaven where, because of her age, she will
be squished rather than stripped for parts. She'll then be sold for
scrap. We will miss her. Nellie's taught me a few things: functionality
is more important than aesthetics; that you should never assume that
because something's old that it won't work or last; but most
importantly, she's taught me that...ahem...I will never buy another American-made car as long as I live.
Detroit-schmoit. I've had it with those ignorant asses. I want a car to
be reliable. I don't want to spend half-my life in the shop, waiting
for the stupid thing to be fixed because some nimrod at one of the Big
Three automakers thought it would be a good idea to make shitty parts
so they could increase their profits when they broke down---because
they would break down; it was a part of the gig. I'm done with
it. D.O.N.E. If a 1983 Camry with over 200,000 miles can last for four
years with minimal maintenence, I'm never spending time in a
Ford/GM/Chrysler dealership waiting for a newer, American-made, car to
be fixed. I'm just not going to. I've got better things to do. Now, one
of my brothers, when he reads this, is going to flip. He will scream,
"No! She can't say that!" Sure I can, but he still won't be pleased
with his baby sister's opinion. You see, he's co-owner of the largest
chain of dealerships in Montana---and with the exception of his Subaru
dealership---the others are all American. (Although, now that I think
about it, I think he's got a Daewoo or a Hyundai dealership? Honestly,
given his position as the Donald Trump of the Montana car scene, it's
hard to keep track.) He's a big believer in American cars. Not because
he has to be, but simply because he is. It's a genuine thing on his
part, and honestly, how many car dealers can you say that
about? Not many. But that's his opinion and that's fine. To each their
own and all that, but Stevie-baby, no offense or anything, I ain't never buying American again.
How many times do I have to get hit upside the head with the rather
simple observation that American cars blow? I've learned my lesson on
this one. It's going to be difficult, however, in the meantime. The
husband, along with my brother, is also a big American-made car
aficianado. His dad headed up the first American factory that was
allowed to import car parts to Japan, for use in Japanese cars. He also
has good reason to buy American. But we've owned so many American-made
cars and they've all been crap that you'd think he'd see it too by now.
But he doesn't. The next car we get, no doubt, he will want to be
American. And he will push hard for it to be American. Well, I'm tired
of it. It's rather simple in my mind: Japanese=reliable, American=too
much fucking time spent getting them fixed. I'm just not going to do
it. I SWEAR!
So, anyway, fare thee well, Nellie. Enjoy the squishing and may your
reincarnation as a piece of rebar or whatever be a pleasant experience.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:59 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The Operation---An Overview

The Operation---An Overview

Posted by: Kathy at 01:56 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Dang! What a Friday for

Dang! What a Friday for you, my devoted Cake Eater readers! Two---count
'em---two Silly German stories in one day!

Woohoo.

Courtesy of Mr. H.

GET BUSY!
See, I think the best thing to help with this one would be for the
radio stations to start playing Barry White songs from the hours of
9-11 every evening. That should help, don't you think?

Posted by: Kathy at 01:48 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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