fishtown chatter

Bush drops the "F" Bomb

2006-07-18T19:38:00.000-05:00

Bush Drops F-Bombs, Knowledge On Tony Blair

Much has been made of the supposedly off-the-air conversation between U.S. President George W.Stopdoingthisshit Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair at the G8 Summit in Russia. Speaking on the recent clashes between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon, and thinking that the microphone was turned off, President Bush opined that "the thing is what they need to do is to get Syria, to get Hezbollah to stop doing this s*** and it's over."

The President's egregious use of foul language was such that fellow fake news organ The New York Times, broke with two of their long-standing positions in their publication of Bush's remarks; using the "s-word" and opposing spying on American citizens.

"We felt that it was in the public's best interest to highlight the use of a Presidential s-bomb," stated a Times spokesman. "If he can say things like that when he thinks no one is listening, then what do you think he's doing when... he... umm... well you know what I mean."

TNOYF's Senior Presidential Cursing Correspondent was on hand to capture several other potty-mouthed Bush-to-Blair asides. Among these are the following:

* "Damned if that Clay Aiken can't belt out a motherf***ing sweet tune."
* "I swear to God if Chirac doesn't shut his crepe`-hole about Israel's 'disproportionate response' I'm gonna go straight gangsta on his a**."
* "Whoever the f*** decided to mix chocolate and peanut butter was a f***ing genius!"
* "Hey T-man, do you have room in the trunk of your limo for the Dixie Chicks? Those a**holes went too far this last time."

Again from The Nose on Your Face.

Slow Times in Danbury, Conn.

2006-07-18T19:26:00.000-05:00

Woman blinded in one eye by carrot

MONROE (AP) - A 46-year-old man is accused of assaulting his wife with a carrot, causing her to lose sight in one eye.

Roderick Vecsey is charged with second-degree assault and disorderly conduct.

Pamela Vecsey, 46, underwent six outs of surgery after being hit in the left eye with the vegetable Saturday night, but doctors were not able to restore her vision, prosecutor Stephanie Damiani said.

The couple was arguing when Roderick Vecsey tossed the carrot, Damiani said.

Roderick Vecsey told Judge Patrick Carroll that it was a terrible accident, and was advised to remain silent.

The judge set a hearing for Thursday. Vecsey is currently free after posting $500 bond.

Irish National Yoga Team Takes Home Top Honors

2006-07-16T12:15:00.000-05:00

Our sincere congratulations go out to the lads from the Irish National Yoga Team for winning first place at the recently completed "World Cup of Yoga". In this exclusive photo taken from one of their training sessions, Keegan O'Shea (piss drunk at right) demonstrates the limp-bodied form that left the rest of the world in their collective wake. Meanwhile, Steven McGuiggan (piss drunk at left) quietly encourages his teammate.
(From The Nose on Your Face)

Pithy Putdowns

2006-07-16T12:05:00.000-05:00

I know you are nobody's fool but maybe someone will adopt you.

A half-wit gave you a piece of his mind, and you held on to it.

If idiots could fly, this would be an airport.

A sharp tongue is no indication of a keen mind.

I would have liked to insult you, but with your intelligence you wouldn't get offended.

Alone: In bad company.

Any friend of yours ... is a friend of yours.

I'd like to leave you with one thought ... but I'm not sure you have a place to put it!

Any similarity between you and a human is purely coincidental!

Anyone who told you to be yourself couldn't have given you worse advice.

If ignorance is bliss, you must be orgasmic.

Are you always so stupid or is today a special occasion?

As an outsider, what do you think of the human race?

It's hard to get the big picture when you have such a small screen.

At least you are not obnoxious like so many other people - you are obnoxious in a different and worse way!

I'm glad to see you're not letting your education get in the way of your ignorance.

Believe me, I don't want to make a monkey out of you. Why should I take all the credit?

If sex were fast food, you'd have an arch over your head.

Better at sex than anyone, now all he needs is a partner.

You're the best at all you do - and all you do is make people hate you.

Calling you stupid would be an insult to stupid people.

Keep talking. I always yawn when I'm interested.

Did you eat paint chips when you were a kid?

If you stand close enough to him, you can hear the ocean.

Ignorance can be cured. Stupid is forever

Do you have to leave so soon? I was about to poison the tea.

I've come across decomposed bodies that are less offensive than you are.

Do you want me to accept you as you are or do you want me to like you?

Instead of being born again, why don't you just grow up?

Doesn't know the meaning of the word fear, but then again he doesn't know the meaning of most words.

I've had many cases of love that were just infatuation, but this hate I feel for you is the real thing.

Don't get insulted, but is your job devoted to spreading ignorance?

Keep talking, someday you'll say something intelligent!

Don't think, it may sprain your brain!

Make a mental note . . . oh, I see you're out of paper!

Don't you have a terribly empty feeling ---- in your skull?

Never enter a battle of wits unarmed.

Don't you love nature, despite what it did to you?

People say that you are the perfect idiot. I say that you are not perfect but you are doing all right.

Don't you realize that there are enough people to hate in the world already without your working so hard to give us another?

She's like Taco Bell. When people see her, they run for the border.

Perhaps your whole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

He smells the coffee, but can't find a cup.

Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time.

He would be out of his depth in a parking lot puddle.

If manure were music, you'd be a brass band.

I wonder how many angels could dance on his head?

I certainly hope you are sterile.

His men would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity.

He's the only man who, if told to screw himself, could do it.

He's the first in his family born without a tail.

He's so dense that light bends around him.

So, a thought crossed your mind? Must have been a long and lonely journey.

Someone said you are not fit to sleep with pigs. I stuck up for the pigs.

Talk is cheap, but so are you.

The cream rises to the top. So does the scum.

They shot him through the stupid forest, and he didn't miss a tree.

Too bad stupidity isn't painful.

We all spring from apes but you didn't spring far enough.

When you fell out of the ugly tree, you hit every branch on the way down.

A half-wit gave you a piece of his mind, and you held on to it.

When you were born, God admitted that even He could make a mistake!

A guy with your IQ should have a low voice too!

You are living proof that manure can grow legs and walk.

You have a face only a mother could love - and she hates it!

A demitasse would fit his head like a sombrero.

You will never be able to live down to your reputation!

Best Obituary Ever

2006-07-11T10:06:00.000-05:00

Frederic Arthur (Fred) Clark
Frederic Arthur (Fred) Clark, who had tired of reading obituaries noting other's courageous battles with this or that disease, wanted it known that he lost his battle as a result of an automobile accident on June 18, 2006. True to Fred's personal style, his final hours were spent joking with medical personnel while he whimpered, cussed, begged for narcotics and bargained with God to look over his wife and kids. He loved his family. His heart beat faster when his wife of 37 years Alice Rennie Clark entered the room and saddened a little when she left. His legacy was the good works performed by his sons, Frederic Arthur Clark III and Andrew Douglas Clark MD, PhD., along with Andy's wife, Sara Morgan Clark. Fred's back straightened and chest puffed out when he heard the Star Spangled Banner and his eyes teared when he heard Amazing Grace. He wouldn't abide self important tight *censored*. Always an interested observer of politics, particularly what the process does to its participants, he was amused by politician's outrage when we lie to them and amazed at what the voters would tolerate. His final wishes were "throw the bums out and don't elect lawyers" (though it seems to make little difference). During his life he excelled at mediocrity. He loved to hear and tell jokes, especially short ones due to his limited attention span. He had a life long love affair with bacon, butter, cigars and bourbon. You always knew what Fred was thinking much to the dismay of his friend and family. His sons said of Fred, "he was often wrong, but never in doubt". When his family was asked what they remembered about Fred, they fondly recalled how Fred never peed in the shower - on purpose. He died at MCV Hospital and sadly was deprived of his final wish which was to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a double date to include his wife, Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter to crash an ACLU cocktail party. In lieu of flowers, Fred asks that you make a sizable purchase at your local ABC store or Virginia winery (please, nothing French - the *censored*) and get rip roaring drunk at home with someone you love or hope to make love to. Word of caution though, don't go out in public to drink because of the alcohol related laws our elected officials have passed due to their inexplicable terror at the sight of a MADD lobbyist and overwhelming compulsion to meddle in our lives. No funeral or service is planned. However, a party will be held to celebrate Fred's life. It will be held in Midlothian, Va. Email fredsmemory@yahoo.com for more information. Fred's ashes will be fired from his favorite cannon at a private party on the Great Wicomico River where he had a home for 25 years. Additionally, all of Fred's friend (sic) will be asked to gather in a phone booth, to be designated in the future, to have a drink and wonder, "Fred who?"
Published in the Richmond Times-Dispatch on 7/9/2006.

July 4th in America

2006-07-05T09:40:00.000-05:00

From Ralph Kinney Bennett at Tech Central Station:

Liberty is the air America breathes...
-- On a plaque in the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty

"As usual we'll gather at Conneaut Lake, up in northwestern Pennsylvania, as we have, some of us, for forty years or more.

A lot of folks who bought fireworks on the way up will be anxious to use them and we'll hear crackers going off all weekend.

On the Fourth, toward evening, we'll build a fire on the little pebbled beach by the lake and line up a couple of picnic tables. Neighbors will bring hot dogs and buns, marshmallows and coleslaw, deviled eggs and baked beans and watermelon and potato chips. There'll be Cokes and iced tea and lemonade.

Some of the younger kids will have to be dragged out of the water by the dock and told to put their fishing poles down and we'll all gather around Mr. Hessler's flag pole and someone will give thanks for the food and for the families gathered there, then end with something like "we thank you God for this great country and for our freedom." It will be a loud prayer to be heard above the sound of the motor boats and jet skis out on the lake.

Then we'll eat and laugh, shielding ourselves from the heat of the fire with our free hand while holding our hot dog roasting sticks in the other. When the darkness finally begins to gather we'll throw another log on the fire, toast marshmallows and sit back to watch the fireworks rising in the sky over Conneaut Lake Park, just a half mile across the water.

It is unlikely there will be any discussions of the meaning of liberty or reflections on the Declaration of Independence and the men who signed it. No history lessons or patriotic readings. We'll just relax and joke and maybe sing a little, and after the fireworks we'll look at the stars as we herd sleepy grandchildren back to our cottages or drive home to tumble into bed to the sound of the last few firecrackers and bottle rockets.

That's the whole point of it, you know. The whole point. To be so free, so much a part of something unique and strong and wonderful, so safe inside that wonderful thing called the United States, that you really don't even have to think about it.

In the smell of that cook fire, in the giggles and shouts as the fireworks lace the night sky, in the warmth of old friendships, in all the unshadowed freedom of the moment, lies the essence of what we celebrate.

It seems too simple and almost irreverent somehow, this unspoken yet grateful intuition about liberty and independence. But it's really the sublime culmination of all the dreams and sacrifices of our forefathers -- this happy gathering for no other purpose than to enjoy the blessing of being Americans."

Cats That Look Like Hitler

2006-06-23T09:02:00.000-05:00

Thank God for the internet-where else can you find this stuff?

Happy 6-6-06

2006-06-06T15:50:00.000-05:00

666 Biblical Number of the Beast
660 Approximate Number of the Beast
DCLXVI Roman Numeral of the Beast
665 Number of the Beast's Older Brother
667 Number of the Beast's Younger Sister
668 Number of the Beast's Neighbor
999 Number of the Australian Beast
333 Number of the Semi-Beast
66 Number of the Downsized Beast
6, uh... I forget Number of the Blond Beast
666.0000 Number of the High Precision Beast
665.9997856 Number of the Beast on a Pentium
0.666 Number of the Millibeast
X / 666 Beast Common Denominator
0.00150150... Reciprocal of the Beast
-666 Opposite of the Beast
666i Imaginary Number of the Beast
6.66 x 102 Scientific Notation of the Beast
25.8069758... Square Root of the Beast
443556 Square of the Beast
1010011010 Binary Number of the Beast
1232 Octal of the Beast
29A Hexidecimal of the Beast
2.8235 Log of the Beast
6.5913 Ln of the Beast
1.738 x 10289 Anti-Log of the Beast
00666 Zip Code of the Beast
666@hell.org E-mail Address of the Beast
www.666.com Website of the Beast
1-666-666-6666 Phone & FAX Number of the Beast
1-888-666-6666 Toll Free Number of the Beast
1-900-666-6666 Live Beasts, available now! One-on-one pacts! Only
$6.66 per minute! [Must be over 18!]
666-66-6666 Social Security Number of the Beast
Form 10666 Special IRS Tax Forms for the Beast
66.6% Tax Rate of the Beast
6.66% 6-Year CD Interest Rate at First Beast Bank of Hell ($666
minimum deposit, $666 early withdrawal fee)
$666/hr Billing Rate of the Beast's Lawyer
$665.95 Retail Price of the Beast
$710.36 Price of the Beast plus 6.66% Sales Tax
$769.95 Price of the Beast with accessories and replacement soul
$656.66 Wal-Mart Price of the Beast (next week $646.66!)
$55.50 Monthly Payments for Beast, in 12 easy installments
Phillips 666 Gasoline Used by the Beast (regular $6.66/gal)
Route 666 Highway of the Beast (where he gets his kicks!)
666 mph Speed Limit on the Beast's Highway
6-6-6 Fertilizer of the Beast
666 lb cap Weight Limit of the Beast
666 Minutes Weekly News Show about the Beast (airs daily from
Midnight to 11:06 a.m., on Cable Channel 666, of course)
666o F Oven Temperature for Cooking "Roast Beast"
666k Retirement Plan of the Beast
666 mg Recommended Minimum Daily Requirement of Beast
Lotus 6-6-6 Spreadsheet of the Beast
Word 6.66 Word Processor of the Beast
Windows 666 Bill Gates' Personal Beast Operating System
#666666 Font Color of the Beast (gray)
i66686 CPU of the Beast
666-I BMW of the Beast
IAM 666 License Plate Number of the Beast
Formula 666 All Purpose Cleaner of the Beast
WD-666 Spray Lubricant of the Beast
DSM-666 (rev) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the Beast
66.6 MHz FM Radio Station of the Beast
666 KHz AM Radio Station of the Beast
66 for 6 A Beastly Score for an Innings (in cricket)
6 for 66 Bowling Figures of the Beast
6/6/6 Birthday of the Beast

Keep talking Dude-I think you're starting to make some sense to him!

2006-05-24T18:27:00.000-05:00

Something to Think About

2006-05-24T18:14:00.000-05:00

Whenever you find yourselves declaring all those who don't entirely agree with you to be your enemies, a rational person ought to pull up short and rethink. You are multiplying your foes and diminishing your friends, and you should not do that unless it is a matter of the most extreme moral necessity.
MaxedOutMama-5/24/2006

The Nina

2006-05-12T23:05:00.000-05:00

A replica of Columbus' ship that brought him to America and back and later to the Amazon sailed in for a weekend fundraiser at the Maritime Museum Annex on Gallant's Channel. This type ship was known as a "caravel," used by explorers in the Age of Discovery. Photos by my wife Jane!

2006-05-12T23:04:00.000-05:00

Rigging

2006-05-12T23:03:00.000-05:00

Ship's Boat Plaque

2006-05-12T23:02:00.001-05:00

Plaque

2006-05-12T23:02:00.000-05:00

Mast with Flag

2006-05-12T23:01:00.000-05:00

More.

2006-05-12T23:00:00.000-05:00

The Nina sailed in today!

Important Medical News

2006-05-10T19:35:00.000-05:00

From E-Mail:

In Pharmacology, all drugs have two names, a trade name and generic name. For example, the trade name of Tylenol also has a generic name of Acetaminophen. Aleve is also called Naproxen. Amoxil is also called Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen.

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra.

After careful consideration by a team of government experts, the FDA recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin. Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin.

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of "cocktails", "highballs" and just a good old-fashioned "stiff drink." Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: "MOUNT & DO"

Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

James Lileks Translates Iranian Madman's Letter to President Bush

2006-05-09T14:25:00.000-05:00

An example why James Lileks is the funniest writer in America today. How he produces consistently funny stuff at such a prolific rate is truly amazing. Here's today's offering where he translates the 18 page letter from Ahmadinejad.

News story: Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has sent an eighteen-page letter to President Bush. No work on whether it was hand-written in tiny type, margin to margin, and wrapped in tinfoil. Herewith are some excerpts.

Dear Infidel Crusader Zionist sock-puppet Saudi-lackey depoiler of Mesopotamia woman-touching pigdog fiendish (293 words excised) Shah-licking son of a toad’s offal: I trust this finds you well. I have much on my mind, and have taken the pen to unburden my breast. I have enclosed a self-addressed stamped envelope should you wish to reply.

(429 words concerning Jewish penetration of the Postal System excised)

. . . Do you not realize you are beaten, as a donkey is beaten, but knoweth not his donkeyhood is cursed? Your comics have turned against you in your own lair, and mock you without mercy. We have seen the videos of the Meal of the Correspondents, and we know how your left regards the men of the laugh as prophets and seers. It is only a matter of time before Johnny Carson (applause be upon him) returns from occlusion to request that you, Mr. President, take the Slauson cutoff, get out of your car, and cut off your Slauson, Hi-yo, salaam. And a third part of the Slauson shall be stained with the tears of the womenfolk, and (9323 words excised)

. . . Our people glow with pride over our nuclear efforts, sometimes literally. I repeat that the enrichment is for peaceful purposes only, and we seek only peace, and peace is our goal, and there is nothing more we love than peace. Except death. Sorry; forgot. Death is definitely number one. In third place of things we love, well, there were those nice ice-cream desserts they had at this little place in Tehran. When I was Mayor I had them brought in on Fridays. Good times, good times. But once I found a hair.

(2356 words excised concerning Jewish penetration of the Iranian Dessert-Industrial complex)

... Na na na nah, nah, everything’s underground! And your Congressors cut funding for the nuclear bombs which permit the busting of the bunker. Na na na! I do a taunting dance and cock my hips mockingly! In sudden seriousness, please to be thank them for this, although we lost a day’s work in the labs due to the celebration. I even permitted the drinking of whiskey, and decreed that the suppliers of alcohol be only lightly killed. (549 repetitions of “na na na na” excised)

. . . and if you had the problem I have with razors you would know why my beard seems so tentative at times; if I may speak with you man to anointed hastener of the Apocalypse, how do you get such a smooth shave? A hot towel? Perhaps the Five-Blade Razor of which we have heard muttered rumors? Personally, I use an exfoliating agent which (8343 words excised)

. . . and Jack Bauer will not be able to save you this time, my friend. If there is an attack on our country we will double our aid to the Iraqi patriots, double our funding to Hezbollah and its female auxiliary wing Sisboombah, and double again our attempts to secrete through your borders weapons both chemical and biological.

Ah – er, reduce everything I said in the previous paragraph by half. We will START doing those things. Yes, that is the thing that is the ticket: start. We will also use our fearsome weapons of unspeakable lethality to destroy your planes before they are even built, let alone launched. We can sink your mighty aircraft carriers by shouting in unison, so great is our national will.

. . . Seriously, when I came to the UN and you didn’t even send a fruit basket, it hurt. Did you not see how well I was received? Did you not see the light of God that surrounded me when I spoke, how no one blinked as I related our message, how doves came out of my mouth and the pants of all were filled with flowers. Did you not note how the exact number of letters I spoke divided by the sum (in Euros) we paid the Chinese engineers was the winning lottery number the following week? Including the Powerball? And you seek to confound my work to bring back the Messiah and bring the world once more into the arms of Islam? Including all penguins?

What are you, nuts?

Sincerely and Death to America,

Mahmoud, descendant of Xerxes, 34th degree Mason, personal valet of the hidden Imam, and not just a member of the Hair Club for Men – I’m also the President! Death to America.

When Southern Fishermen Meet

2006-05-03T14:54:00.000-05:00

"Hyamac"
"Lobuddy"
"Binearlong?"
"Coplours"
"Cetcheenny?"
"Goddafew"
"Kindarthay?"
"Bassencarp"
"Ennysizetoom?"
"Couplapowns"
"Hittinhard?"
"Sordalike"
"Wachoosen?"
"Gobbaworms"
"Fishinonaboddum?"
"Rydownonaboddum"
"Whatchadrinkin?"
"Jugajimbeam"
"Igoddago"
"Tubad"
"Seeyaroun"
"Yeahtakideezy"
"Guluck"

Try Your Hand Shooting the "Kitty Cannon"

2006-05-01T20:57:00.000-05:00

Kill Your Weeds and Your Weiner in One Shot!

2006-05-01T14:34:00.000-05:00

Pesticides may affect penis size
A renowned U.S. scientist supports a ban on the chemicals for cosmetic purposes.
By JOHN MINER, FREE PRESS HEALTH REPORTER
Pesticides may affect penis size
Zoologist Louis Guillette was drawn into London's pesticide-ban debate during a lecture stop at the University of Western Ontario yesterday. (Ken Wightman, LFP)

A renowned U.S. scientist who has documented fertility and sex changes -- including decreasing penis size -- due to environmental contamination says he wouldn't apply pesticides on his own lawn.

Delivering a special series of lectures this week at the University of Western Ontario, Louis Guillette has been drawn into London's lawn-care debate during question periods and talk-show interviews.

"The use of these compounds just for cosmetic reasons, just because you don't want to make dandelion wine from your yard or whatever, I think is inappropriate," Guillette, who is associate dean for research at the University of Florida, said in a lecture yesterday at UWO's Schulich School of Medicine and Dentistry.

Based on his own scientific investigations, Guillette said there's enough evidence pesticides put children, wildlife and the ecosystem at risk.

"Just because you can go buy them at the local stores doesn't meant that is appropriate use," he said.

A zoologist, Guillette has spent the last decade studying the influence of environmental contaminants on fetal development and reproductive systems of wildlife and humans, including the differences between alligators living in contaminated Florida lakes and those in cleaner ones.

He found abnormalities in sex organs, dramatic differences in egg-hatching rates and hormone levels.

Penis size of the animals from the polluted lake was smaller than animals from the less-polluted lake.

"This is important because it is not just an alligator story. It is not just a lake story. We know there has been a dramatic increase in penile and genital abnormalities in baby boys," Guillette said.

A followup study by another scientist involving healthy couples with 5,000 healthy babies also found reduced penis size with higher contamination levels.

"Are (their penises) so small they are actually having problems? We don't know. These are baby boys," he said.

But rodent studies have indicated more difficulty with fertility and other aspects later on, he said.

The researchers also found the alligators from contaminated water had abnormal ovaries. Some of the abnormalities were traced to chemical compounds with estrogen, a sex hormone. Estrogenic-type compounds are found in some pesticides, including atrazine, mostly widely used in North America for weed control.

Guillette said he doesn't support a total pesticide ban, saying their use is proper for public health and probably in agriculture. But when people can reduce their exposure they should, he said.

Things guys over 30 should never do!

2006-04-26T14:18:00.000-05:00

From Esquire:

1. Coin his own nickname.

2. Use a wallet that is fastened with Velcro.

3. Rank his friends in order of best, second best, and so on.

4. Hacky sack. [I need enligtening on this termonology]

5. Name his penis his name plus junior. [ this one I totally agree with! Hmm..., let your wife or girl name it instead!LOL]

6. Hang art with tape.

7. Hang The Scream, unless he stole it from the Munch museum in Oslo.

8. Ask a policeman, "You ever shoot anybody with that thing?"

9. Ask a woman, "Hey, you got a license for that ass?" [this one is lame!]

10. Skip. [Enough said - oh boy!]

11. Take a camera to a nude beach.

12. Let his father do his taxes.

13. Tap on the glass.

14. Shout out a response to "Are you ready to rock?" [even at a concert?]

15. Use the word collated on his resume.

16. Hold a weekly house meeting with roommates.

17. Name pets after Middle Earth characters.

18. Jokingly flash gang signs while posing for wedding photos.

19. Give shout-outs.

20. Use numbers in place of words or locations, such as "the 411" for information, or "the 313" for Detroit.

21. Hug amusement-park characters.

22. Wear Disney-themed neckties.

23. Wake up to a "morning zoo."

24. Compare the trajectory of his life with those of the characters in Billy Joel's "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant."

25. Request extra sprinkles.

26. Air drum.

27. Choose 69 as his jersey number.

28. Eat Oreo cookies in stages.

29. Volunteer to be a magician's assistant.

30. Sleep on a bare mattress.

31. End a conversation with "later skater."

32. Hold his lighter up at a concert.

33. Publicly greet friends by shouting, "What's up, you whore?"

34. Wear Converse All Stars with a tuxedo.

35. Propose via stadium Jumbotron.

36. Decide anything based on the ruminations of Howard Stern.

37. Call "shotgun" before getting in a car.

38. Dispute someone else's call of "shotgun."

39. Whine.

40. Mist up during Aerosmith's "Dream On."

41. Purchase fireworks.

42. Google the word vagina.

43. Ride a pony.

44. Sport an ironic mustache.

45. Hit 13 against a 6.

46. Organize a party bus.

47. Say "two points" every time he throws something in the trash.

48. Buy a novelty postcard in another country of topless women on a beach and write, "Wish you were here" on it.

49. Keg stands.

50. Purchase home-brewing paraphernalia.

51. The John Travolta point-to-the-ceiling-point-to-the-floor dance move; also that one from Pulp Fiction.

52. Put less than ten dollars' worth of gas in the tank.

53. Keep a minuscule amount of marijuana extremely well hidden.

54. Read The Fountainhead.

55. Watch the Pink Floyd laser light show at a planetarium.

56. Refer to his girlfriend's breasts as "the twins."

57. Own a vanity plate.

58. Whippits.

59. Say goodbye to anyone by tapping his chest and even so much as whispering, "Peace out."

Thought for the Day

2006-04-21T11:46:00.000-05:00

After a certain hour, the likelihood of something good happening diminishes. Between midnight and 1 a.m., bad begins to make its move. At 2 a.m., bad takes the lead. After 2 a.m., it's bad, by 20 lengths.

Horrible Crash in Germany!

2006-04-21T11:26:00.000-05:00

Attached is a gut-wrenching picture of a horrible highway accident in Germany (taken by a friend of mine).

The picture may be harder on some people than others so be careful in passing it around. If you look closely you can see what appears to be some survivors still in the wreckage. Although the picture is graphic, it makes you realize how quickly our loved ones can be taken from us.

My friend stayed on the scene to help and even though he performed mouth to mouth on several of them, none survived.

Tom Cruise-Crazier by the Hour

2006-04-18T11:12:00.000-05:00

Too much money and free time must just completely mess with your head. I never thought Cruise could act worth a damn but if he is now auditioning for a role as unmitigated asshat, he should get an Oscar. God help this kid!

Mission Impossible star Cruise vows to eat placenta after birth
By Patrick Mulchrone

TOM Cruise yesterday revealed his latest bizarre mission..to eat his new baby's placenta.

Cruise vowed he would tuck in straight after girlfriend Katie Holmes gives birth, saying he thought it would be "very nutritious".

The Mission Impossible star, 43, said: "I'm gonna eat the placenta. I thought that would be good. Very nutritious. I'm gonna eat the cord and the placenta right there." It is the latest in a series of increasingly strange outbursts from Cruise in the run-up to the birth.

He has claimed the baby, due any day, will be delivered in total silence.

The Top Gun star also insisted he "sensed" fiancŽe Katie was pregnant before she told him.

And he has blurted out details of the couple's sex life, saying: "It's spectacular."

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The actor, who recently also claimed he has the power to cure drug addicts, has even been carrying out his own medical scans on the foetus after buying himself an ultrasound machine.

Silent birth is one of the rules of the cult of Scientology, which Cruise is devoted to.

The cult - founded by the late sci-fi writer L Ron Hubbard - claims that 75 million years ago aliens came to earth and their spirits now infest our bodies.

Cruise told GQ magazine Hubbard had discovered making a noise had a "negative spiritual effect" on someone giving birth. He insisted that 27-year-old Katie would be allowed to scream, adding cryptically: "It is really about respecting the woman. It's not about her screaming.

"And scientifically it is proven. Now there are medical research papers that say when a woman's giving birth everyone should be quiet."

Cruise also revealed he and Katie have been preparing for the birth by holding classes at their Beverly Hills home.

He said: "We've been studying what a woman goes through. What happens to her body. It's just kind of becoming this fun game of learning."

Cruise said his sex life with Batman Begins star Katie had made him realise one-night stands were "horrible".

He added: "Great sex is a by-product for me of a great relationship, where you have communication. It's an extension of that. If you're not in good communication with your partner, it sucks."

Cruise, who has two adopted children with ex-wife Nicole Kidman, will not be the first star to make a meal out of his baby's placenta.

Rod Stewart and girlfriend Penny Lancaster took home their baby's placenta, sprinkled it with tee tree oil and buried it in the garden.

In 1998, Channel 4 chef Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall fried a placenta with shallots and garlic and served it up to 20 guests, including the baby's mum and dad.

TV watchdogs later criticised the show, branding it "disagreeable".

But placenta-eating is considered normal in some cultures. Various recipes include one for placenta lasagne. Some say eating it helps avoid post-natal depression.

Happy Easter

2006-04-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

Vote Here for the World's Ugliest Dogs

2006-04-14T12:21:00.000-05:00

Here's one entry-Tater Tot!

Happy Easter

2006-04-13T09:49:00.000-05:00

France Surrenders!! To Themselves

2006-04-11T21:22:00.000-05:00

Running out of nation-states to surrender to, France does the only thing left-surrenduring to itself! A simple law intended to make it easier to hire and fire workers during their first two years was met by violent riots and howls of protest, so France does what it does best-capitulate! Here's a story from the Washington Post that shows the pathetic work ethic and the pathology of the cradle to grave welfare state. Take a look at this dude Nicolas Dhelft- a real go-getter.

Modern Mind-Set Pays In Out-of-Date Market

By Molly Moore
Washington Post Foreign Service
Tuesday, April 11, 2006; A14

PARIS -- As teenagers in a middle-class suburb of Paris, Pierre Kosciusko-Morizet and Nicolas Dhelft shared the same circle of friends, attended the same parties and watched the same movies.

Today, seven years out of business school, Kosciusko-Morizet, 28, is president of one of the fastest-growing online sales companies in France. At a time when youth unemployment here is more than 22 percent, the young French executive, who started his career at a bank in Richmond, has added 50 workers to his payroll in the past six months -- most of them English-speaking engineers and technicians.

In contrast, Dhelft, 29, has worked only eight months since graduating from a liberal arts college with the dream of becoming a research director. He has received government welfare or unemployment benefits for most of the past four years, something he feels "a little bit" guilty about but believes the government owes him.

The story of the two friends who came of age on opposite sides of the French economy illustrates a generation torn between a need to embrace the globalized world of the 21st century and the fear of relinquishing the government security blankets of the 20th. The struggle has erupted in the streets of French cities during more than a month of protests over a new job law that has come to symbolize the country's economic, social and political disarray.

Under growing domestic pressure, on Monday the government withdrew the law, which allowed companies to fire workers under the age of 26 anytime during their first two years on the job.

But both Kosciusko-Morizet, who supported the law, and Dhelft, who opposed it, agree that it is not French regulations but a national mind-set that needs to change.

"Companies like mine someday will be the future of France," said Kosciusko-Morizet, sitting in his plate-glass crow's nest of an office overlooking the mammoth warehouse where 115 employees of PriceMinister.com process online sales of items including CDs and vintage wines. "But I don't see France really ready right now. It's not the laws -- it's the mentality."

Dhelft, a slight man with close-cropped hair and a sparse beard, grew up not far from the opulent Versailles palace in the suburban Paris town of the same name. He is typical of the many French youth who follow their hearts through college with a curriculum that is decades behind the current job market.

When he graduated with a degree in sociology, he discovered he could not even get a job interview at one major research institute without a reference from inside the company. The small, nonprofit groups he preferred had no jobs to offer. He enrolled in graduate courses and since finishing in 2003 he has made an admittedly less-than-aggressive effort to find a job -- seven or eight interviews.

"I could be sending out 10 résumés a day," said Dhelft, sitting at a Paris cafe, nursing a coffee as well as a wrist he sprained playing handball. "But it's not in my mentality. I'm more laid-back, and I'm not convinced sending 10 résumés a day would get more offers."

When he turned 25, Dhelft became eligible for welfare because he had never held a job. He received 350 euros a month, about $425.

Last year a nonprofit association where he interned in college offered him a seven-month job filling in for an employee on maternity leave. Dhelft earned 1,300 euros ($1,585) a month, and after the job ended he qualified for unemployment benefits for seven months at 750 euros ($915) each month. When the association called him back last January to substitute one month for an ill employee, Dhelft received partial unemployment pay -- 250 euros ($300) -- for the month he was working.

When his employment payments run out at the end of April, he will qualify once again for welfare because he won't be working or collecting unemployment.

Dhelft, who lives with his parents and volunteers as a handball coach for children, said of the government payment, "I don't feel bad taking it." He paused to reconsider, and conceded that perhaps he felt "a little bit" of guilt, but added, "I would feel more guilty if my parents had to pay everything for me." His mother is a homemaker and his father is an engineer for Peugeot, the French automaker.

Having his parents and the government payments as a financial crutch is "a double-edged sword," Dhelft said. "You are protected, but you tend to be too protected to do something."

"I disagree with those who say French young people are lazy and don't want to work," Dhelft said. "They want to work, but they want to work the French way -- with a 35-hour week and a steady job. People want to be able to plan for the future and think ahead."

He's watched the successes of some of his friends a bit wistfully.

"Some, like Pierre, had a very straight path with no problems and are very successful," he said. But that route wouldn't work for him, Dhelft said. "I don't like business in general."

Even so, a friend has told him about an opening at a bank. Three years ago, Dhelft would not have considered it. "I'm ready to lower my expectations," he said. "I don't have dreams anymore. I have to put aside my pride and dreams and make a living.

"My goal is to work at least a few years."

When Kosciusko-Morizet was growing up in the western Paris suburb of Sevres, he dreamed of flying his own plane. He assumed it would be far too expensive and difficult.

But as chief executive officer of PriceMinister.com, he discovered "you don't have to be a millionaire to fly a plane," you just need $6,000 for the lessons. Today he flies.

Kosciusko-Morizet uses that discovery in his crusade to persuade French college graduates to shed their fear of missing out on a lifelong job and plunge into entrepreneurship.

"They just don't think about it as something they can do," said Kosciusko-Morizet, his face sandwiched between brilliant copper hair and a thick reddish beard. "They think you have to be born rich, you have to have connections. They think it's too hard.

"It's not too hard -- I was not rich. I didn't have that many connections. I think it's a great way of life and a great adventure."

But Kosciusko-Morizet had the educational jump-start that set him apart from hundreds of thousands of other French students. He graduated from Ecole Hautes Etudes de Commerce, the most elite business school in a country where professional achievement frequently is determined by the status of the diploma.

And he is not without connections. His father, a career government administrator, is now mayor of his home town, and his great-grandfather was ambassador to the United States in the 1970s.

After graduating, Kosciusko-Morizet worked for a year at Capital One Bank in Richmond, honing skills he then took home to France. Just as the Internet bubble was bursting, he and four friends -- despite warnings that their timing was abysmal -- started an online sales company in France.

In the first two years, the number of transactions the company handled doubled every 2 1/2 months, and the business has continued to expand. Kosciusko-Morizet said PriceMinister.com now handles 20,000 transactions a day -- small by eBay standards, but significant by French ones. He estimates that in the past six years, it has helped 10,000 people launch new or second careers in sales. In November, he moved the company into a open-air warehouse once used to make huge balloons.

But fighting the French mind-set and labor laws designed to protect workers, rather than enhance commerce and competition, has been frustrating. To fire an employee "is expensive and it takes time," he said. "You hire 115 people and fire one, and you're seen as a bad guy. You're firing a guy who has a right to work."

Although Kosciusko-Morizet supports the government's new law, he doesn't think it could help his company: "You don't need two years to know whether an employee is good."

And he is not without sympathy for those like his friend, Nicolas. "It's important to have safety nets and social protections," he said. "You don't want to stop helping people who have difficulties, but you don't want to hand them too much. If you do, they will have less motive to find a job."

Kosciusko-Morizet said he tries to convince new graduates that running a business doesn't mean they have to give up the lifestyle so cherished by the French. "I don't think work is the most important thing in my life," he said. "I believe in family. I love music. I sing. One of my dreams is to become a singer."

Excuses, Excuses....

2006-04-10T15:47:00.000-05:00

I've let this thing go to seed for the last month or so. It's been a hectic time-new boss; co-worker out on maternity leave; teaching; a week of court; moved our offices Friday and today and spring time allergies. Made a quick trip to South Carolina this weekend and cleared the head and sinuses and now it's already almost mid-April. There hasn't been a whole lot of time for this blogging thing. Perhaps some photos this week will get me back on track. Hope to be back full-time soon.

Love the Irish!

2006-03-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

Into a Killarney pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
"Jamie O'Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"Ah, the little shit, O'Connor," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."
"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"
"That I did," said Paddy... "Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
======================================

An Dubliner who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road. A cop pulls him over. "So," says the cop to the driver, where have ya been?"
"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.
"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had a few pints this fine evening."
"I did all right," the drunk says with a smile.
"Well, did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"
"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. " I thought I'd gone deaf."
=====================================================

Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya".
"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim, but where's my husband?"
"That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an accident at the Guinness brewery..."
"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me."
"I must, Brenda. Your husband Seamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."
Brenda commenced to wail and weep and call on all the saints. Finally, she looked at Tim and asked, "How did it happen, Tim?"
"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned."
"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"
"Well, Brenda... no, I can't lie about it to ya. He climbed out three times to pee"
==================================================

Mary Clancy goes up to Father McGuire after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears. He says, "So what's troublin' you, Mary my dear?"
She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. Me own husband passed away last night."
The priest says, "Oh, Mary, I'm sad for it. Tell me, did he have any last requests?"
She says, "That he did, Father, that he did."
The priest says, "And for what did he ask, Mary? "

"Oh, Father, she says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun'. "

Tip o' the hat to Randy Taylor.

Lizard Joke

2006-03-29T16:58:00.000-05:00

A monkey is sitting in a tree smoking a joint, when a lizard walks
past, looks up, and says to the monkey "Hey, what're you doing?"

The monkey replies, "Smokin' a joint, come up and have some."

So the lizard climbs up the tree, sits next to the monkey, and they
smoke a few joints.

After a while the lizard says his mouth is 'dry' and he's going to the

river to get a drink. The lizard climbs down the tree and staggers
over to the river to get a drink of water, but he is so stoned, he
leans over too far and falls into the river.

A crocodile sees this, swims over to the lizard and helps him to to
the bank. Then he asks the lizard, "What's the matter with you?"

The lizard explains to the crocodile that he was sitting up in a tree
with a monkey smoking pot, got too stoned and then fell into the
river while taking a drink.

The crocodile says he has to check this out, and wanders off into the
jungle. He finds the tree where the monkey is sitting finishing up a
joint.

The crocodile yells up to the monkey and says "Hey!"

The monkey looks down and says, "SHIIIITTTTTTT........Dude! How much
water did you drink?!"

2006-03-28T18:15:00.000-05:00

Mars and Venus

2006-03-27T21:16:00.000-05:00

Here's a prime example of "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus";
offered by an English professor from the University of Colorado for an
actual class assignment:

The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a
new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person
will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right.

As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a
short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send
another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then
add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending
another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph,
and so on back-and-forth.

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order
to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the
e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The
story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students:
Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now
reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he
liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind
off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about
him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of
the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron
now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about
than the neuroses of an air-headed, asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with
whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to
Geost Station 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar
orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could
sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a
hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him
flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt
one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who
had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped
its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.
"Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,"
Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously
excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her
youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no
newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of
innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one
lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands
of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of
its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks who pushed
the unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had
left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were
determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage
of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying
enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop
them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion
missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his
top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the
coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized
poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My
writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate, adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered, tedious, neurotic,
whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of
Valium. "Oh, shall I Have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads
too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)
Asshole!

(Gary)
Bitch!

(Rebecca)
F**K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!

(Gary)
In your dreams, Ho. Go drink some tea.

(TEACHER)
A+ - I really liked this one.

Hat tip to Eric Saunders!

Crazy Dogs

2006-03-21T23:23:00.000-05:00

Ninja Kitties

2006-03-21T23:20:00.000-05:00

Gallery of Bad Female Driving

2006-03-21T23:18:00.000-05:00

Pirates Ain't What They Used to Be!

2006-03-19T18:25:00.000-05:00

Arrrrgh! Note to self: Don't bring knife to gunfight.

Pirates attack 2 Navy warships from Norfolk in the Indian Ocean
By STEVE STONE, The Virginian-Pilot

A dozen suspected pirates on a small fishing boat became prisoners Saturday after they opened fire on two Norfolk-based Navy warships in the Indian Ocean.

Five of those captured were wounded and a 13th man was killed, the Navy said.

No one on the Gonzalez, a guided missile destroyer, or the Cape St. George, a guided Updates, photos and video from the Associated Pressmissile cruiser, was hurt.

The incident occurred in international waters, about 25 nautical miles off the central eastern coast of the troubled east African nation.

Why the men opened fire is unclear, but their decision to take on Navy ships in a 30-foot fishing boat was "not too smart at all," said Cmdr. Jeff Breslau, a Fifth Fleet spokesman in Bahrain.

"If somebody shoots at us, they can pretty much expect to die because we will return fire," Breslau said by telephone.

Breslau could recall no other instance in which pirates had fired on Navy ships in that area.

The Gonzalez and the Cape St. George are part of the Navy’s Fifth Fleet, which is based in Bahrain.

On Saturday, they sailed as part of Combined Task Force 150, a maritime coalition task force currently under the command of Commodore Hank Ort of the Royal Netherlands Navy.

Lt. Cmdr. Charles W. Brown, a Fifth Fleet spokesman, said events unfolded shortly after dawn, when the task force spotted the suspicious boat towing two smaller skiffs. It was heading west, toward the coast .

"Their location and their setup mirrored recent pirate procedures, so that made us suspicious and made us want to board them," Breslau said.

The Gonzalez readied a boarding party, and both warships moved to intercept the vessel.

As they approached the smaller boat, Navy personnel "noticed that a group of suspected pirates were brandishing what appeared to be rocket-propelled grenade launchers," Breslau said.

Moments later, the suspected pirates opened fire on the Navy ships.

In response, Brown said, "the Cape St. George and Gonzalez returned fire with small arms in self-defense."

The battle was as brief as it was lopsided.

There were only a few bullet holes on the Navy ships. The attacking vessel was set ablaze, leaving a plume of black smoke rising over the area.

A full assessment of damage to the Navy ships is not expected to be finalized until today, but the crews "did an initial survey of the hulls, and it looked like there was some evidence of small arms fire," Breslau said. "We don't know exactly what hit the ships."

"The ships are definitely unaffected, and they are going to be able to continue their mission without any problem," Breslau said.

The boarding team confiscated an rocket-propelled grenade launcher and automatic weapons from the vessel. Breslau said it was unclear whether the attackers had fired any rockets.

Where the prisoners go next and what ultimately will happen to them was unclear.

For now, those who were not seriously hurt are locked up. The others are under guard while being treated for injuries.

Royal Netherlands Navy medical personnel, including a doctor, from the Dutch fast combat support ship Amsterdam, were sent to help care for the wounded.

It is unclear whether the craft the fishing boat was towing were booty seized earlier. "We don't know whether they stole them from somebody," Breslau said.

In addition to attacking international shipping, pirates have targeted U.N. aid shipments intended to bring relief to the area, which has suffered a severe drought.

Saturday's engagement came three days after the U.N. Security Council encouraged naval forces off Somalia to be vigilant and take action against piracy.

"So, we've been keeping an eye on that while we've been conducting maritime security operations," Breslau said.

Since 1991, Somalia, with a population of more than

8 million, has had no effective central government and has instead been torn by clashes between rival militias.

Piracy has become rampant off the country's coast, and many shipping companies have resorted to paying ransoms to protect their vessels and crews.

Earlier this month, Somali pirates kidnapped 50 Yemeni fishermen, and on Nov. 5, pirates fired rocket-propelled grenades at a 440-foot luxury cruise liner.

No one on the liner was hurt, and the ship sped off before pirates could board.

The last time the Navy was involved in a pirate-related incident was Jan. 21.

The International Maritime Bureau in Kuala Lumpur had reported that pirates had fired on a Bahamian-flagged bulk carrier 200 miles off the coast of Somalia. The crew of the Norfolk-based guided missile destroyer Winston Churchill spotted the suspect vessel and pursued.

A Navy boarding party seized a cache of small arms from the dhow, and 10 suspected pirates were captured. They now are on trial in Kenya.

Task Force 150, which also includes Dutch, German, Pakistani, British and Italian warships, conducts maritime security operations across about 2.4 million square miles in the North Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Oman, the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea in addition to the Indian Ocean.

Carrots, Eggs or Coffee?

2006-03-18T13:36:00.000-05:00

"A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee...You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you; to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendship you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.

It's easier to build a child than repair an adult. This is so true – may we all be COFFEE.”

2006-03-17T15:31:00.000-05:00

For You Women Who Desire the "Intellectual" Look

2006-03-17T15:27:00.000-05:00

St. Patrick's Day Humor

2006-03-17T12:12:00.000-05:00

An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years.

Upon her return, her father cussed her. "Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn't ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?"

The girl, crying, replied, "Sniff, sniff....da....I became a prostitute...."

"Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You're a disgrace to this family."

"OK, da -- as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a $5 million savings certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex and for ye daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that's parked outside plus a membership to the country club....(takes a breath)....and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera and...."

"Now what was it ye said ye had become?" says da.

Girl, crying again, "Sniff, sniff....a prostitute da! Sniff, sniff."

"Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, lass! I thought ye said a 'Protestant'. Come here and give yer old man a hug!"

When You Run Out of Knives to Throw at the Cops, Throw Your Penis!

2006-03-17T12:07:00.000-05:00

Man severs own penis, throws it at officers

March 17, 2006

BY ERIC HERMAN Staff Reporter

Before cops threw the book at him, Jakub Fik threw something unusual at them -- his penis.

Fik, 33, cut off his own penis during a Northwest Side rampage Wednesday morning. When confronted by police, Fik hurled several knives and his severed organ at the officers, police said. Officers stunned him with a Taser and took him into custody.

"We took him out without any serious injury, with the exception of his own," said Chicago Police Sgt. Edward Dolan of the 16th District.

Doctors at Northwestern Memorial Hospital reattached Fik's penis Wednesday, sources said. He was listed in good condition Thursday, according to hospital spokesman Andrew Buchanan, who declined to comment further.

Smashing car windows

Fik, who lives in the 5400 block of W. Berenice, is charged with two counts of aggravated assault and one count of criminal damage to property, said Officer Laura Kubiak. He told paramedics he was distraught over problems with his girlfriend in Poland, Dolan said.

Police arrived on Fik's block at 8:20 a.m. Wednesday after receiving reports he was smashing car windows, Dolan said. Fik then broke into a house down the block. A group of six or seven officers assembled in front of the house, Dolan said.

The occupants were not home, he added.

Fik was bleeding when the officers arrived and may have already cut off his organ, Dolan said.

"At that point, this guy came running out, naked, with a handful of knives . . . and started throwing knives at the police officers that were 10, 20, 30 feet away," Dolan said.

Fik threw his penis during the confrontation, too, Dolan said. He then went back into the house and re-emerged with "another handful of knives," Dolan said.

Dolan sneaked to the side of the bungalow's front steps and stunned Fik with the Taser. Fik fought back when officers went to restrain him, Dolan said.

"About 10 feet from the front porch, right on the sidewalk, was his penis," Dolan said.

Dr. Greg Bales, associate professor of urology at the University of Chicago, said severed penises are uncommon but surgery usually works.

"As long as the penis is placed on ice and reattached within a few hours, the success is usually pretty good," Bales said.

How Will You Die?

2006-03-16T17:39:00.000-05:00

Ask the Death Psychic. Click on link above.

As for me:
While on a group tour of a candy factory, you fall over a guardrail and land on a taffy pulling machine. Your head, torso, and legs are ripped into three separate sections.

Couldn't Resist

2006-03-16T14:16:00.000-05:00

Amazing New Technology

2006-03-15T14:18:00.000-05:00

Introducing the new Bio-Optic Organized Knowledge device, trade named: BOOK

BOOK is a revolutionary breakthrough in technology: no wires, no
electric circuits, no batteries, nothing to be connected or switched on.
It's so easy to use, even a child can operate it.

Compact and portable, it can be used anywhere -- even sitting in an
armchair by the fire, yet it is powerful enough to hold as much
information as a CD-ROM disc. Here's how it works:

BOOK is constructed of sequentially numbered sheets of paper
(recyclable), each capable of holding thousands of bits of information.
The pages are locked together with a custom-fit device called a binder
which keeps the sheets in their correct sequence.

Opaque Paper Technology (OPT) allows manufacturers to use both sides of
the sheet, doubling the information density and cutting costs. Experts
are divided on the prospects for further increases in information
density; for now, BOOKS with more information simply use more pages.

Each sheet is scanned optically, registering information directly into
your brain. A flick of the finger takes you to the next sheet. BOOK may
be taken up at any time and used merely by opening it.

BOOK never crashes or requires rebooting, though like other display
devices it can become unusable if dropped overboard. The "browse"
feature allows you to move instantly to any sheet, and move forward or
backward as you wish. Many come with an "index" feature, which
pin-points the exact location of any selected information for instant
retrieval.

An optional "BOOKmark" accessory allows you to open BOOK to the exact
place you left it in a previous sessioneven if the BOOK has been closed.
BOOKmarks fit universal design standards; thus, a single BOOKmark can be
used in BOOKs by various manufacturers. Conversely, numerous BOOK
markers can be used in a single BOOK if the user wants to store numerous
views at once. The number is limited only by the number of pages in the
BOOK.

You can also make personal notes next to BOOK text entries with an
optional programming tool, the Portable Erasable Nib Cryptic
Intercommunication Language Stylus (PENCILS).

Portable, durable, and affordable, BOOK is being hailed as a precursor
of a new entertainment wave. Also, BOOK's appeal seems so certain that
thousands of content creators have committed to the platform and
investors are reportedly flocking. Look for a flood of new titles soon.

Do you talk Southern?

2006-03-14T20:56:00.000-05:00

86% Dixie and damn proud of it!

No license, car unregistered, only works in reverse gear-I don't think the interstate is a good choice

2006-03-14T20:50:00.000-05:00

Aussie charged for driving outbackward
After 25-mile drive, he explained that reverse was only gear that worked
Reuters
Updated: 4:04 a.m. ET March 13, 2006

SYDNEY, Australia - Police charged an Australian driver with "reversing further than necessary" after he traveled backward for more than 40 kilometers (25 miles) along one of the country's busiest highways.

Police said the man was stopped on the Hume Highway — which runs between the cities of Sydney and Melbourne — at Benalla, about 200 kilometers northeast of Melbourne.

Police said the man told them reverse was the only gear in the car that worked and that he was traveling home to the small regional town of Numurkah, 90 kilometers (56 miles) farther on his way.

He was also charged with unlicensed driving and driving an unregistered car and is to appear in court later this year.

Great Battles in History of Armed Conflict-the Tater Tot War

2006-03-14T20:47:00.000-05:00

Teen Shot in Fight Over Tater Tots

A teenager was shot Monday afternoon after he was arguing over tater tots with another teen, San Antonio Police said.

The shooting happened close to 5 p.m. at the Spring Hill Apartments off Raybon on the northeast side.

Neighbors told police the uncle of one of the boys told the teens to stop fighting. They were ready to stop, but investigators said a 20-year-old man would not let them.

“Another person out here in this apartment complex, I think wanted to see the young boys continue fighting,” Sgt. Rudy Cran with SAPD said.

The man then walked into a nearby apartment complex, grabbed a gun and started shooting, authorities said. He fired several shots into the living room where the boys were watching television, police said.

“One of those rounds hit the young man in the back,” Cran said.

The boy was rushed to University Hospital, officials said. His condition was unavailable Monday night.

The suspect remained on the loose Monday. Police were looking for him.

Serial Killer or Geek?

2006-03-13T22:57:00.000-05:00

I only got 5 of 10 with a late rally.

Friday Fish Story

2006-03-10T23:32:00.000-05:00

Great Blue Heron -16, Pond Goldfish and Koi-Zero

A couple of weekends ago I ran into the greatest "fisherman" ever. With keen vision, a stealthy approach and superb concentration on the task at hand, he landed every fish he targeted that afternoon. He was tall and rail-thin with a huge beak-here's a photo of him:

It's been about three years since we added an inground fish pond just below our outer deck. It holds perhaps a hundred gallons of water and is surrounded by rock slabs. It is filled with fresh water which is oxygenated by means of a submersible pump and a plastic hose which is attached to the ass of a large statuary frog located back center. The pump draws in water, shoots it into the frog's ass and out his mouth back into the pond, creating air bubbles as it sprays accross the pond surface. We bought our first goldfish and koi just after installation and have truly enjoyed the pond and the fish. It's been a learning process all along-what plants to put in, how best to control algae, the perils of letting the water getting too hot in the summer and how to keep the pond free of ice in the winter are questions that we have dealt with, usually after the death of a couple of fish. But it's been mostly a successful little operation. The first couple years we used a small pump which required daily filter cleanings-take out the filter, hose it down, unhook the pump hose and shoot water violently through it with the garden hose attachment, then re-hook the deal back up. Many a day I returned to my office from lunch with sleeves rolled up and shirt and pants wet from the effort. This year I bought the pump from hell-it's been firing an uninterrupted stream of water without a cleaning for about six months. The pump is so powerful, I had to glue the hose to the frog's ass receptacle to keep it from blowing off and snaking around shooting water everywhere. The first winter, I read up on cold weather care and found that the fish will adjust to very cold temperatures-they just can't have the surface to freeze. In the cold weather, they go to the bottom of the pond, their metabolism slows and they just "sit" there. They don't even require feeding because their bodies aren't working hard enough to digest the food. We got a floating heater that keeps ice from forming on the surface and have used it every winter but this one because it's been so mild.
We started out with about eight fish, lost some in the heat when the pump stopped working, and last spring added some more making a total of sixteen. We still had goldfish from the first season and they had grown as big as small bass. The others were a mix of smaller goldfish and white and orange koi. The pond in the spring and summer is a prolific breeding ground for frogs. Everything did great this year-we kept the water cool by adding well water in the summer, had plenty of plants for shelter, had the killer pump going full bore and had snails and those little algae eating catfish keeping the green slime down. Their colorful swirling and swimming were a constant attraction to our two cats, who would teeter precariously on the thin rock slabs to stare at the fish and take the occasional unsuccessful swipe at them. The rocks are just stacked, not cemented and are not the most stable platform, even for nimble kitties and several nights when the cats returned to the back door soaking wet, I knew damn well what had happened. We loved feeding the fish-they could see our appoaching shadows and would swarm to the surface, mouths gulping before the first flake hit the water. The big fish could inhale flakes the size of a dime and the little ones waited for the scraps to sink down and they would take their turn. The pond life had been so stable for so long that had really stopped worrying about their welfare-just a feeding once or twice a day depending on their activity level.
On a cold Sunday a couple of weeks ago, Jane yelled for me to come look at this huge bird in the backyard. It was mister GBH. I had never seen one so close up-the thing was about five feet tall, blue-gray in color and when I looked out the door and spooked it, it took off looking more like a small plane than a bird-truly impressive. Jane said she had seen it the day before in the middle of the back yard. I went out and looked in the pond and didn't see any of the fish but since it was cold and the water was a tad murky, I just assumed the fish were finning on the bottom. Later that night, I got out my 2 million candlepower spotlight I use on my boat and shot a beam of light into the pond-still nothing. I still held out hope that the bird maybe just scared the fish into hiding and they would come back out soon. The next day I took an oar and stirred the water to a froth with no results, then I took some nets and tried some more-nothing.
The heron had actually eaten every fish in that pond-they're all gone. I "Googled" the phrase "pond predators" and every hit had a picture of either a raccoon or a Great Blue Heron. Ain't nature a bitch!

The pond now sits empty except for the dormant remnants of a few pond plants and the water still streams out of the frog's mouth. When the weather warms, we will restock it with a new group of fish and when Mr. GBH comes around next year, I've got something for his ass! He'll be no match for the Gator Guard floating gator head with it's mirror-back eyes flashing in the sun. Should scare the hell out of the cats too!

Dog Sammich

2006-03-10T10:34:00.000-05:00

Chinese Menu Interpreted into English

2006-03-09T23:44:00.000-05:00

Might be quite surprised what it is you are ordering. (Click on link above).

The Perils of Internet Romance

2006-03-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

MAN DATES GAL ON INTERNET FOR SIX MONTHS -- AND IT TURNS OUT SHE'S HIS MOTHER!
Friday December 9, 2005

By Grace Green

MARSEILLES, France -- Skirt-chasing playboy Daniel Anceneaux spent weeks talking with a sensual woman on the Internet before arranging a romantic rendezvous at a remote beach -- and discovering that his on-line sweetie of six months was his own mother!

"I walked out on that dark beach thinking I was going to hook up with the girl of my dreams," the rattled bachelor later admitted. "And there she was, wearing white shorts and a pink tank top, just like she'd said she would.

"But when I got close, she turned around -- and we both got the shock of our lives. I mean, I didn't know what to say. All I could think was, 'Oh my God! it's Mama!' "

But the worst was yet to come. Just as the mortified mother and son realized the error of their ways, a patrolman passed by and cited them for visiting a restricted beach after dark.

"Danny and I were so flustered, we blurted out the whole story to the cop," recalled matronly mom Nicole, 52. "The policeman wrote a report, a local TV station got hold of it -- and the next thing we knew, our picture and our story was all over the 6 o'clock news. "People started pointing and laughing at us on the street -- and they haven't stopped laughing since."

The girl-crazy X-ray technician said he began flirting with normally straitlaced Nicole -- who lives six miles away in a Marseilles suburb -- while scouring the Internet for young ladies to put a little pizzazz in his life.

"Mom called herself Sweet Juliette and I called myself The Prince of Pleasure, and unfortunately, neither one of us had any idea who the other was," said flabbergasted Daniel.

"The conversations even got a little racy a couple of times.

"But I really started to fall for her, because there seemed to be a sensitive side that you don't see in many girls.

"She sent me poems she had written and told me about her dreams and desires, and it was really very romantic.

"The truth is, I got to see a side of my mom I'd never seen before. I'm grateful for that."

When starry-eyed Daniel asked Sweet Juliette to send him a picture, Nicole e-mailed him a photo of a curvy, half-clad cutie she'd scanned from a men's magazine.

"The girl in the picture was so beautiful, I begged Juliette to meet me on the beach -- and Mom said yes," he recalled. "Mom says she was falling for me, too, and she just wanted to meet me, even though she knew I'd be disappointed when I saw her.

"As for me, I figured I was going to find the girl of my dreams.

"I guess that's about as wrong as I've ever been."

Daniel admits he and his mother could do little but stammer and stutter around each other for days after their cyberspace exploits came to light. And his father Paul -- Nicole's husband of 27 years -- wasn't too happy when the story hit the news and his beer-drinking buddies made him the butt of their jokes.

"Dad was ticked for a while and he forbid Mom to talk to anybody on the Internet ever again," said embarrassed Daniel.

Got to be a Joke in Here Somewhere!

2006-03-07T18:35:00.000-05:00

Yanni Faces Domestic Battery Charge

By Leon Fooksman
South Florida Sun-Sentinel

March 7, 2006, 7:54 AM CST

Easy-listening music star Yanni spent a night in jail last week after being accused of slapping his girlfriend during a dispute at his Manalapan, Fla., home.

Yanni, 51, whose legal name is John Yanni Christopher, struck the woman after he told her to leave his beachfront home and she was gathering her belongings Thursday night, a police report said. The woman, Silvia Barthes, 33, of Miami Beach, had a mark on her face and accused him of grabbing her arms and throwing her on a bed, the report said.

The Greece-born keyboardist and composer faces a misdemeanor domestic battery charge. His West Palm Beach-based attorney, Orlando Gonzalez, denied Barthes' allegations. He called Yanni a non-violent man who would never hurt anyone.

"He's the most gentle man around," Gonzalez said. "His hands are his instruments."

Barthes told police that Yanni was verbally abusive after they returned from dinner. At his house, she was getting her things when he grabbed her clothing off the hangers in the closet and threw them on the floor, she told police. Yanni then gripped and shook her by the forearms, threw her on a bed and jumped on top of her, she said. During the confrontation, he slapped her face, she said.

Police confirmed that Barthes had a swollen and bloody lip, the police report said. Barthes, who declined medical treatment, could not be reached by phone Monday.

Yanni explained to police that she kicked him, even though officers didn't find any marks on his body, the report said. Yanni hurt his finger from a watch she was wearing, police said.

Yanni and Barthes called police separately, Gonzalez said.

Yanni spent about 11 hours in jail. He was released on his own supervised recognizance Friday, meaning he must check in every week with authorities until the case is resolved.

The musician, who has released more than 10 albums, bought his $7.7 million-appraised home in 1998.

Manalapan Police Chief Clay Walker said Yanni has never been a problem.

"This has never happened before with him in our community," he said.

Next, Kenny G will be robbing banks-or Zamphir will be sticking-up convenience stores with his "skin-flute," "pan-flute," whatever. Barry Manilow- now a gang leader? Are there no heroes anymore?

Bet he had some Vodka with those sausages?

2006-03-07T17:42:00.000-05:00

Man bitten by own alligator
From correspondents in Moscow
07-03-2006
From: The Australian

Russian businessman Anton Skvortsov learned the hard way the literal meaning of biting the hand that feeds you when he was savaged by his pet alligator while trying to feed it sausages.
Mr Skvortsov, 35, was showing off in front of a group of friends and colleagues at a party in his Moscow office.

He decided to show his guests how much his pet alligator Musya loved him and opened the reptile's cage to feed it by hand.

"We had all had dinner and I thought my beautiful Musya should have some as well," he said.

"He is normally fed only by placing the food through the bars of his cage but this time I wanted to give him a bit of freedom and I held out some sausages for him to take from my hand."

Mr Skvortsov was taken to hospital, where doctors treated his lacerations and gave him a tetanus injection.

Sorry for the light postings-redux

2006-03-07T17:38:00.000-05:00

Been slammed at work-tried to put something up Sunday night but Blogger wouldn't work. Hope to be back with something soon-at least I'll steal a post from someone!

2006-03-06T08:23:00.000-05:00

What a bunch of pathetic narcissists!

2006-03-04T14:11:00.000-05:00

This from the NY Times about competition to get kids into the "right" preschool. God, this is sickening.

In Baby Boomlet, Preschool Derby Is the Fiercest Yet
By SUSAN SAULNY

The fierce competition for private preschool in New York City has been propelled to such a frenzy this year by the increased numbers of children vying for scarce slots that it could be mistaken for a kiddie version of "The Apprentice."

Take the case of the Rabbani twins, who live on the Upper West Side. Their father, Usman Rabbani, graduated from Yale 10 years ago, has a master's degree from Harvard and works for a major drug company in Manhattan. Despite his accomplishments, Mr. Rabbani was stumped when he sat down to compose a short essay a couple of months ago.

His assignment? To profile his two toddlers. Of his 18-month-old son Humza he eventually wrote, "He knows that birds like to sit on rooftops when they are not on the ground, that cats and dogs like to be petted, and that the blue racquetballs in the can belong in the racquetball court upstairs."

About Humza's twin, Raza, he wrote, "He is happy to point out all his body parts when asked."

With those words, Mr. Rabbani conquered parental writer's block and entered this year's version of the altered universe of private preschool admissions. After years of decline, the number of children under 5 in Manhattan, where the most competitive programs are located, increased by 26 percent between 2000 and 2004, according to census estimates. Yet the number of slots has not kept apace.

"These are the kids who are 2, 3, 4, and 5 years old now, trying to get into preschool and kindergarten," said Amanda Uhry, the owner of Manhattan Private School Advisors, a consulting firm for parents. "And it's a nightmare."

This is the moment of maximum anxiety for parents, many of whom have applied to so-called safety preschools, just hoping their children will be accepted somewhere. And the hot pursuit of slots has continued despite tuition that can run over $10,000 a year for 3-year-olds. Acceptance letters were sent out last Wednesday for private kindergarten programs, to be followed next week by the telltale thick or thin envelopes from the preschools.

"We're feeling it," said Ellen Bell, an admissions official at the Ethical Culture Fieldston School, an elite private institution. "It's a real problem for us to deal with the number of applicants and deal with them properly the way we want to, to be fair with every family. These numbers are just becoming overwhelming."

"I see a greater angst in the parent, and that troubles me, and my heart goes out to them," she added. "We're sending out more news that people don't want to get."

Part of the problem is that the number of twins and triplets born to women in New York City has increased, according to city Health Department statistics.

In 1995, there were 3,707 twin births in all the boroughs; in 2003, there were 4,153; and in 2004, there were 4,655. Triplet births have also risen, from 60 in 1995, to 299 in 2004. Because preschools strive for gender and age balance in generally small classes — and also, some parents suspect, as many potential parental donors as possible — it is harder to get multiple slots in one class.

"I tell families that they may increase, hopefully double or triple, their options, by telling schools they are willing to separate their children," said Emily Glickman, whose firm, Abacus Guide Educational Consulting, helps parents win admission to private schools.

"Unfortunately we are in a very cutthroat climate right now, where the schools have the power," Ms. Glickman added.

New York City has about half the capacity it needs for its youngest students, public and private, said Betty Holcomb, the policy director of Child Care Inc., an agency in Chelsea that provides referral services for early child care.

"Even if you're rich, you're not guaranteed a place in a preschool," Ms. Holcomb said.

So this year, the application essay, which parents might once have dashed off in a few sentences, has become a reason for more hand wringing.

"What do you say about someone who just popped out?" Mr. Rabbani asked. "You're just getting to know them yourself."

In a sign of how overwrought the process has become, production is in progress on a pilot for a cable television reality series, "Manhattan Mom," about the daily travails of a New York woman. A producer said the series would include at least one episode focusing on the mother's struggles to get her 5-year-old into a top private kindergarten.

But none of the 25 or so private schools the producers called will allow the producers to film any part of the process.

"They don't want publicity," said Rachel Tung, one of the producers.

Few schools were interested in talking about the application process to a reporter, either; nearly a dozen did not return calls for comment. But many parents poured out their frustration.

The preschool essays are just part of the problem, they say. Time-consuming interviews, observed play sessions, rising tuition costs and application fees, preferences shown to siblings and families who have connections to the school, and the increasing difficulty of gaining admission for twins and triplets, parents say, are making the process more stressful for the entire family.

"I didn't get a real sense of competition like this until I was doing my college applications, and even that seemed easier," said Mr. Rabbani, who went to high school in a small Canadian town near Buffalo.

Lori Malloy, who lives on the Upper West Side, watched friends try to get their children into preschool last year, and she remembered thinking, "I'm not going to get stressed out like the rest of these ladies." But when Ms. Malloy, a federal prosecutor, applied for her twins, a boy and a girl, she asked her husband to write the application essay.

"I was so nervous," she said, "and I'm someone who took the LSAT, who's written for the federal judiciary and in law review." The family applied to four schools.

"There's not a week that goes by that I don't regret that I didn't apply to three or four more," Ms. Malloy said.

Consultants are reaping benefit from the competition. Victoria Goldman, a consultant and an author of guides to Manhattan private schools, said, "This year, I've gotten more calls for nursery school than kindergarten."

In writing the essay, parents can turn to the seminars that focus on "idea starters for application essays." Some good words to use in describing your child? Enthusiastic, creative, inquisitive, sensitive, consultants say.

Ms. Uhry, the consultant, said it was almost impossible to overstate the importance of the essay.

"The first way of separating the wheat from the chaff is to get rid of those essays in which the parents couldn't be bothered enough to write a decent essay or take this whole process seriously," she said. "It is your calling card. It is your entree."

Still, no one can say for sure how much the essay matters. Some consultants think it is more important to have a strong contact or family friend already in the school of choice.

Mr. Rabbani's advice? "You have to get creative in describing your child."

Hence, his son Humza, in his essay, is "a soft-hearted jock." And Humza's brother Raza is "a thinker and a mischievous lover."

Perhaps Mr. Rabbani knows what he's talking about: Humza and Raza got into their parents' first choice of preschool two weeks ago. They were notified before most other parents because they applied through an early decision program.

Strange Billboards

2006-03-03T23:44:00.000-05:00

What might you ask does this billboard refer? Click here for the full story of "The Crack Team."

Sorry for the light postings

2006-03-03T23:30:00.000-05:00

I've been slammed at work lately-I've got a fish story I'll get up tomorrow.

Perspective

2006-03-02T17:11:00.000-05:00

Wise words from Tom McMahon.

What I Have Learned In 15 Years

It was 15 years ago today that our 8-year-old son Ryan suffered a severe brain injury that left him unable to walk or talk or feed himself. He was in the hospital (in two hospitals, actually) for over six months, and ever since has lived with us at home. I thought I would share some of the lessons I've learned in these past 15 years:

* Some Run Away

I thought I'd start out with the most unpleasant reality first. That in times of real trouble, some people you thought were your true-blue friends or close family members you thought were of solid character can turn out to have the proverbial feet of clay. For whatever reason, they're never around anymore. Why? I don't know. But you have to get to the point where you worry about this about as much as you worry that your pet ferret can't do fractions, which is to say not at all. Yeah, it hurts. But your not the first to stumble upon this disappointing fact by any means.

* Big Companies Don't Help

These days the really big global companies have organizations for just about every group imaginable this side of white males of European heritage. If you're black, if you're Asian, if you're a woman, if you're gay, or even if you're a cancer survivor, there's a group for you. But have a crippled kid and son, you're on your own.

* Muddle through

I've never seen a self-help book with this advice, but really it's some of the best advice I can give somebody going through a difficult stretch. Sometimes the absolute best you can do isn't that pretty, or elegant, or graceful, or frankly all that inspiring. When you're in one of those stretches, stop worrying about it. Nobody else could do that much better in your position either.

* Some doors close, some doors open

I've had one vacation away from home in the past 15 years, not counting the summer I had off when I had my heart surgery. Since I couldn't get away, I started this blog. SeewhatImean?

* People are such wusses to-day

Take that last item. Some folks would be horrified not to take an airplane trip vacation at least twice a year. While that's very nice, it's not a Minimum Daily Requirement for a Happy Life. People re-define extravagant luxuries as the bare necessities of life, and whine like a two-year-old when they don't have every last one of them. Keep the two categories straight and you'll be much happier.

* You gotta play out the season

Every year baseball teams start spring training with visions of the World Series in their heads. And every year about May or June it's obvious to several of those teams that it ain't gonna happen. But they still play out the season. Your Big Lifetime Dream smashed to bits? You still gotta play out the season. Try to set the base-stealing record, or the record for triples, or the record for pinch-hit singles with two men out and runners in scoring position. Find the game within the Game, and play that.

* Let us brace ourselves to do our duty

From Winston Churhill, it's my favorite sound bit from Charlie Sykes. It sounds a bit odd to our Modern Ear, but whose fault is that?

* Let people help you

Gals, you don't have to remove your own gall bladders. Guys, you don't have to perform your own vasectomies. Being self-sufficient means being self-sufficient overall, not all the time. Let people help you when you need it.

* You never anticipate the really bad stuff

Think of all the old Twilight Zone episodes that had a post-World War III theme. Now think of all the episodes with a big-jetliner-smashing-into-a-skyscraper theme. We tend to worry about a lot of things that never happen, and let ourselves get blindsided by reality.

* If all you look for is the bad and ugly, you'll never see the good

If you search for The Stupid, you'll find The Stupid. If you search for The Worthwhile, you'll find The Worthwhile. If you don't get that, then it means that I've found The Stupid while looking for The Worthwhile. But you're The Exception, Bucko.

* Time marches on. Relentlessly.

When Ryan was injured, he was in the 3rd grade. I wanted time to stop in some sort of magic fashion, so that he could get better and return to the 3rd grade. But his classmates moved on to the 4th, and 5th, and 6th, and 7th, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I mention this because nobody really talks about it.

* On the other hand, sometimes Time doesn't move at all.

Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness?

I used to think that the ultimate in slow time were those Midnight-to-4AM watches in the Navy. I had no idea.

* Everybody will have a story. And Yours is not the worst story.

I used to think I was the only one with a Sad Story. I was wrong.

* Trouble comes in clusters

When it does, muddle through!

* The social safety net can be odd at times.

Let's say parents of crippled kids are eligible for a $3000 home improvement grant every year. Now let's say to install a home elevator to go down to the basement would cost $9000. You say, why not just save those grants for 3 years and install the elevator? You a funny guy, you know that, Joe?

* Beyond The Blue Horizon

Beyond the blue horizon
Waits a beautiful day
Goodbye to things that bore me
Joy is waiting for me

I see a new horizon
My life has only begun
Beyond the blue horizon
Lies a rising sun

Memorize this song. It's simple enough that when you're in real trouble, you'll still be able to remember it. If you're a Christian, you can substitute "Rising Son" for "rising sun" and nobody will know the difference when you sing it.

* Do you know who holds your hand?

I learned these words from a friend of mine who was dying of cancer:

I don't know about tomorrow
I just live from day to day
I don't borrow from the sunshine
For its skies may turn to gray
I don't worry o'er the future
For I know what Jesus said
And today I'll walk beside him
For he knows what lies ahead

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

Every step is getting brighter
As the Golden Stairs I climb
Every burden's getting brighter
Every cloud is silver-lined
There the sun is always shining
There no tear shall bend the eye
At the ending of the rainbow
Where the mountains touch the sky

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

* Everybody wants to help Save The Earth, but nobody wants to help Mom do the dishes.

When Ryan was in the hospitals for those 6 months, I was working in a group of 18 people at UltraGlobalMegaCorp. Guess how many cards I got from my group in those 6 months? Approximately? All of a sudden, don't you remember somebody you need to send a card to? Or make a phone call to? Or visit? You don't need to be brilliant, or wonderful, you just have to be there. You can do this. Off you go now!

Ski Jumper Sans Skis

2006-02-28T18:34:00.000-05:00

Brokeback Quailhunt

2006-02-28T18:25:00.000-05:00

Brilliant parody from Ace of Spades!

Brokeback Quailhunt

SCENE: Two friends, DICK CHENEY and HENRY WHITTINGTON, share a tent in a marsh. A fire burns as they eat pork and beans out of cans.

DICK: Well, that was a good meal.

HENRY: That's the most words you've said since we've been out here.

DICK: I don't talk much. (tosses bean can aside) Well, guess I better get back to the quail-blind. Want to wake up early to get the early bird.

HENRY: Don't go tonight. It's going to storm. Spend the night in the tent.

DICK: The tent?

HENRY: Sure. It sleeps two.

DICK looks conflicted.

INT. TENT -- NIGHT

Dick and Henry sleep in seperate sleeping bags.

HENRY: Damn, this cold air is making my elbows hurt. Old football injury.

DICK: I can put some Tiger Balm on it.

Henry extends his arm. Dick begins massaging in the hot salve. They look meaningfully into each other's eyes.

Then Dick takes out a 28 guage shotgun and shoots Henry in the face.

They both fall back into their sleeping bags, spent. And Henry, bleeding profusely from the face and neck.

DICK: No one can know about this thing of ours.

HENRY: Yeah, no one. They wouldn't understand. No one can know... except the emergency room team at the hospital. I think some birdshot just slipped into my carotid artery. It's on the way to my heart. I may have a minor atrial fibrilation.

DICK: A special friendship'll do that.

...

SCENE: After parting ways for some time, Dick and Henry depart from their wives to meet again in a quail marsh.

The friends shake hands, happy to see each other again. Then they hug, manfully, but passionately.

Then Dick takes out a shotgun and shoots Henry in the hip.

Dick and Henry both collapse into the marsh grass. Dick, because he's spent from the overpowering emotion; Henry, because his hip is badly wounded and he's lost 90% of the blood-flow to his right leg.

HENRY: Dick... do you think it's possible that one day we'll come out here, be "special friends" together, with no cares and no worries... and you won't shoot me with your shotgun?

DICK: Maybe. One day. When the world is ready to understand this thing of ours.

HENRY: When do you think that will be, Dick?

DICK: Ever see Blade Runner?

HENRY: Yeah.

DICK: Sometime after that.

HENRY: I can't wait.

Henry passes out from shock. Dick cradles his head.

...

SCENE: Henry is arguing with his wife about another upcoming quail hunt.

HENRY: We're just friends! That's all it is!

WIFE: I looked at your gun the last time you got back! It hadn't even been fired!

HENRY: I never got a chance to fire it. Dick shot me within ten minutes of getting there. I spent the weekend in the ER.

WIFE: I think it's just sick... you spending all this time with your "friend," him shooting you. It's... not proper.

HENRY: You don't understand. You can't understand!

Henry leaves in a huff.

As he exits the front door, a tear flows from one eye. And then a steel birdshot flows out, expelled by his tear duct. He wipes the birdshot away.

...

SCENE: Henry and Dick sit before a fire, beside a calm river. Dick chews on beef jerky; Henry uses tweezers to pluck birdshot out of his ass.

DICK: This jerky is delicious.

HENRY: It sure is. It's the best in Texas.

DICK: Mmmmm.

HENRY: You can say that again. (pause) Dick... I hate to ask again, but... How long you think it's going to be before you stop shooting me in the face and buttocks?

DICK: If you can't fix it, you gotta stand it.

HENRY: Yeah, you keep saying that. But, see, we can fix it. You can just stop shooting me. It's not difficult. You just stop pointing a shotgun at me and blasting away pieces of my body.

DICK: There ain't no reins on this thing we got goin' here.

HENRY: See, again, I don't even know what that means. I just think we should, A, tell the world about our special friendship, and B, try to avoid you spraying birdshot into me every time we get together.

DICK: The world wouldn't accept that, Henry.

HENRY: Well let's focus on "B." I'm pretty sure they'd accept that.

DICK: Two guys... going off into a marsh... neither one of them coming back with a gunshot wound. It just wouldn't look right. People would get to talkin'. Engagin' in all sorts of rumor and innuendo.

HENRY: I don't know if I agree. I think the world is a-changin', Dick.

DICK: It hasn't changed that much. If you don't come back with a decent sized shotgun wound on you, what are people gonna think we were a-doin' out here?

HENRY: I don't know. Talking. Hunting. Guy stuff.

DICK: That's just crazy-talk, Henry. We both know what they'd say.
(pause) I'm going to get some more beans.

Dick goes back to the tent and comes back a moment later.

HENRY: You got the beans?

DICK: Yeahhhh, I done got 'em.

HENRY: Those aren't beans. That's a 28 guage shotgun.

DICK: Are you sure?

HENRY: I've come to know its silhouette pretty damn good.

DICK: I'm almost positive these are beans. Let me check the label.

The shotgun BLASTS, blowing off bits of Henry's scalp.

DICK: Something wrong with these beans. They've got a hair-trigger or something.

Henry smiles with the warmth of friendship, and also because he's delirious from a concussion and bleeding headwound.

HENRY: I've been thinkin'... maybe we should stop gettin' together for quail hunts. Maybe we should try fishin'.

DICK: Fishin'? Fishin's for homos. I ain't no homo, Henry.

HENRY: I know that. But maybe we could just try.

DICK: If it's important to you.

HENRY: I think it is. Could you put a tournequet around my neck? I think I'm about to pass out.

Dick smiles and and begins strangling Henry with a rope.

...

SCENE: A fishing boat on a placid lake. Henry lies upon the boat's bottom, bleeding profusely from a wound in his abdomen.

DICK: I told you fishin' wouldn't be no better.

HENRY: It would have been... it was going so well. And then you shot me again.

DICK: Had to. That trout you pulled out of the lake was fixin' to bite you somethin' ferocious. Had to take him out before he got to you.

HENRY: You missed the fish entirely.

DICK: True, but the shotgun blast kinda stunned him, right before he fell back into the water. He didn't bite you.

HENRY: He bit me. A piece of my abdominal muscle went floatin' in the lake, and I saw him eat it.

DICK: That son of a bitch...! I won't let him get away with that! (he grabs his shotgun)

HENRY: Please, put the gun down.

DICK: But the fish...! That son of a bitch ate part of my friend!

HENRY: Dick, please, don't. Put the gun down. You're not going to shoot the fish. I don't even think you're going to pretend to aim at him. You're just going to point the gun directly at me and shoot me.

Dick smiles with overpowering affection.

DICK: You know me so well.

HENRY: Why aren't you putting the gun down, Dick?

Dick pulls the trigger.

...

SCENE: Much later. Dick and Henry are now much older; Henry is a high-powered Texas attorney, Dick is Vice President of the United States.

Henry has once again been shot by Dick.

Dick visits him in the hospital.

DICK: I'm sorry, Henry. But do you see now? You see how people have set their tongues a-waggin'? The media won't stop slandering us. I told you folks'd never accept this special friendship of ours.

HENRY: Again, I hate to be Johnny One-Note, but I don't think it's the friendship they mind. I think it's the repeated shotgun-maimings.

Dick sadly shakes his head.

DICK: You've always been so naive, Henry. (smiling) I brought you a present.

HENRY: This present... seems to be about three and a half feet long. And 28 guage wide.

Dick unwraps the gift.

HENRY: Nurse...!

Dick moves the call-nurse button away from his friend's hand.

DICK: Can't have the nurse in here, Henry. She'd never understand this special thing we got goin'.

HENRY: I think I'm about done with this special thing.

DICK: I wish I could quit you. I mean, I wish I could quit shooting you.

HENRY: NURSE...!!!

Dick fires the gun.

fin

2006-02-28T17:04:00.000-05:00

Singin' the Blues!

2006-02-28T00:06:00.000-05:00

I love to play the blues and I found this helpful guide at Dash's site-Classic!

HOW TO SING THE BLUES:

If you are new to Blues music, or like it but never really understood the whys and wherefores, here are some very fundamental rules:

1. Most Blues begin with: "Woke up this morning..."

2. "I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick something nasty in the next line like, "I got a good woman, with the meanest face in town."

3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that rhymes - sort of: "Got a good woman with the meanest face in town. Yes, I got a good woman with the meanest face in town. Got teeth like Margaret Thatcher and she weigh 500 pound."

4. The Blues is not about choice. You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a ditch...ain't no way out.

5. Blues cars: Chevys, Fords, Cadillacs and broken-down trucks. Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles. Most Blues transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train. Jet aircraft and state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running. Walkin' plays a major part in the Blues lifestyle. So does fixin' to die.

6. Teenagers can't sing the Blues. They ain't fixin' to die yet. Adults sing the Blues. In Blues, "adulthood" means being old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.

7. Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or anywhere in Canada. Hard times in Minneapolis or Seattle is probably just clinical depression. Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, and Nawlins are still the best places to have the Blues. You cannot have the Blues in any place that don't get rain.

8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the Blues. A woman with male pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg 'cause you were skiing is not the Blues. Breaking your leg 'cause a alligator be chomping on it is.

9. You can't have no Blues in an office or a shopping mall. The lighting is wrong. Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.

10. Good places for the Blues
a. highway
b. jailhouse
c. empty bed
d. bottom of a whiskey glass

11. Bad places for the Blues
a. Nordstrom's
b. gallery openings
c. Ivy League institutions
d. golf courses

12. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen to be an old person, and you slept in it.

13. Do you have the right to sing the Blues?
Yes, if:
a. you're older than dirt
b. you're blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis
d. you can't be satisfied
No, if:
a. you have all your teeth
b. you were once blind but now can see
c. the man in Memphis lived
d. you have a 401K or trust fund

14. Blues is not a matter of color. It's a matter of bad luck. Tiger Woods cannot sing the Blues. Sonny Liston could have. Ugly white people also got a leg up on the Blues.

15. If you ask for water and your darlin' gives you gasoline, it's the Blues. Other acceptable Blues beverages are:
a. cheap wine
b. whisky or bourbon
c. muddy water
d. black coffee
The following are NOT Blues beverages:
a. Perrier
b. Chardonnay
c. Snapple
d. Slim Fast

16. If death occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it's a Blues death. Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another Blues way to die. So are the electric chair, substance abuse and dying lonely on a broken-down cot. You can't have a Blues death if you die during a tennis match or while getting liposuction.

17. Some Blues names for women:
a. Sadie
b. Big Mama
c. Bessie
d. Fat River Dumpling

18. Some Blues names for men:
a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie

19. Persons with names like Michelle, Amber, Jennifer, Debbie, and Heather can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.

20. Blues Name Starter Kit
a. name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, etc.)
b. first name (see above) plus name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi, etc.)
c. last name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.)For example: Blind Lime Jefferson, Pegleg Lemon Johnson or Cripple Kiwi Fillmore, etc. (Well, maybe not "Kiwi.")

21. I don't care how tragic your life is: if you own a computer, you cannot sing the blues, period.
Sorry!

One of the Greatest Sports Stories Ever

2006-02-24T13:21:00.000-05:00

Click on link above and be sure to check out video!

This certainly inspires confidence!

2006-02-24T12:52:00.000-05:00

H&R Block reports tax miscue, lower net, cuts view
Thu Feb 23, 2006 7:14 PM ET

By James Kelleher

CHICAGO (Reuters) - H&R Block Inc. , which provides tax advice to millions of Americans, made an embarrassing confession on Thursday. It goofed on its own taxes.

The company, which is in the middle of its make-or-break season preparing other people's tax returns, said it had underestimated its own "state effective income tax rate" in previous quarters -- meaning it owes another $32 million in back taxes.

As a result, H&R Block said it would restate previously reported earnings going all the way back to 2004.

"It wasn't particularly material," said Alexander Paris, an analyst at Barrington Research in Chicago. "And it's not particularly unusual. A lot of companies are going back and reviewing their controls because of Sarbanes-Oxley and finding tax errors. But for a company like H&R Block, it was particularly embarrassing."

The company also cut its forecast for full-year 2006 earnings, blaming, among other things, "a slower start to the tax filing season than in previous years."

But it acknowledged it compounded the problem by introducing a new technology that went haywire -- and sent a quarter of a million customers to rivals.

H&R Block shares went sharply lower in extended trading after the company issued its earnings report -- which was a disappointment in itself.

The Kansas City, Missouri-based company said fiscal third-quarter net earnings fell 69 percent to $28.8 million, or 9 cents a share, from $92.3 million, or 28 cents per share, during the comparable quarter last year. Revenues for the quarter rose 12 percent to $1.2 billion, the company said.

Analysts expected H&R Block to report earnings of 26 cents a share on sales of $1.19 billion.

"It was definitely a disappointment," Paris said.

The company said its poor performance in the fiscal third quarter resulted from legal settlement costs related to its controversial early refund program and from a smaller-than-expected seasonal surge in filings by U.S. taxpayers.

But in a conference call with investors, Mark Ernst, the company's chairman and chief executive, said the slow start was exacerbated by "self-inflicted wounds."

Ernst said software-related technology problems left the company unprepared for a surge in January filings by taxpayers expecting refunds and "created a hole out of which we're working to climb."

He said the problem "cost us 250,000 clients" that were "unable to be recovered."

The company said a new software distribution system introduced in January had caused its offices glitches that would be fixed for a day, then pop up again. It said the problems left some offices unable to process taxes.

That isn't the only hole H&R Block dug for itself. The tax-related goof and restatement will also drag down previously reported results for 2005 and 2004 by an estimated 9 cents a share, the company said.

H&R Block, which also provides home-loan and investment services, also cut its 2006 earnings forecast to a range of $1.65 to $1.85 a share, down from its previous range of $1.90 to $2.15 per share. It blamed the slow start to the tax season, as well as continued weakness in the mortgage market, for the reduced forecast.

H&R Block shares fell $1.87, or 7.4 percent, to $23.32 in after-hours trading on Inet.

Out of Town

2006-02-24T11:00:00.000-05:00

Heading down to Charlotte this P.M. for the annual Rodbuilder's Show. Hope to return with tons of goodies to use when the weather warms and thoughts again turn to fishing. There are dozens of vendors from all over the U.S. who truck stuff to Charlotte and damn sure don't want to lug it back, so there are bargains galore-late Sunday afternoon, they'll almost pay you to take it off their hands. Be back Sunday night with a truckfull of good stuff!

The Perils of "Spell-Check"

2006-02-21T22:37:00.000-05:00

Two poems illustrate the basic problems with spell-check-both easily made it through.

ANN OWED TWO THE SPELL CHECKER

I have a spelling checker -
It came with my PC
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss steaks aye can knot sea

Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your sure reel glad two no.
Its vary polished in it's weigh -
My checker tolled me sew.

A checker is a bless sing.
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me awl stiles two reed,
And aides me when aye rime.

To rite with care is quite a feet
Of witch won should be proud.
And wee mussed dew the best wee can,
Sew flaws are knot aloud.

And now bee cause my spelling
Is checked with such grate flare,
Their are know faults with in my cite;
Of non eye am a wear.

Each frays come posed up on my screen
Eye trussed to be a joule.
The checker poured o'er every word
To cheque sum spelling rule.

That's why aye brake in two averse
By righting wants too pleas.
Sow now ewe sea why aye dew prays
Such soft wear for pea seas!

And another:

ODE TO THE SPELL CHECKER

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques for my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased to no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Hat tip to Powerline!

2006-02-21T18:11:00.000-05:00

What was the #1 Song on the Day you were born?

2006-02-21T17:32:00.000-05:00

Check here-Mine is "Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White" by Perez Prado-who the hell is Perez Prado?

Sweet!

2006-02-21T17:24:00.000-05:00

Got my Danish Flag Bumper Stickers today in the mail!

Free Speech Alive and Well in Austria

2006-02-21T17:14:00.000-05:00

While I'm on my free speech soapbox, let me point you to a complete travesty in Austria-it appears there you can be locked up for 3 years by expressing a crazy, unpopular opinion-that's it! The very nation-state that gave us concentration camps and extermination of Jews by the millions now declares it to be a crime if you express an opinion, delusional or not, that this did not happen. Figure that one out! Great idea-Let's turn idiots into martyrs!

Holocaust Denial Gets 3 Years In Jail
VIENNA, Feb. 21, 2006(AP) Right-wing British historian David Irving has been sentenced to three years in prison by an Austrian court, which convicted him of denying the Holocaust — a crime in this country once run by the Nazis.

Irving, who had pleaded guilty and insisted during his one-day trial that he had had a change of heart and now acknowledged the Nazis' World War II slaughter of 6 million Jews, had faced up to 10 years behind bars. Before Monday's verdict, Irving conceded he had erred in contending there were no gas chambers at the Auschwitz concentration camp.

"I made a mistake when I said there were no gas chambers at Auschwitz," Irving testified, at one point expressing sorrow "for all the innocent people who died during the Second World War."

Irving, stressing he only relied on primary sources, said he came across new information in the early 1990s from top Nazi officials — including personal documents belonging to Adolf Eichmann — that led him to rethink certain assertions.

But despite his apparent epiphany, Irving maintained he had never questioned the Holocaust.

"I've never been a Holocaust denier and I get very angry when I'm called a Holocaust denier," he said.

Irving's lawyer immediately announced he would appeal the sentence.

"I consider the verdict a little too stringent. I would say it's a bit of a message trial," said the attorney, Elmar Kresbach.

Following the verdict, Kresbach told reporters that if actually sent to prison, Irving would likely not serve the full three-year term because of various factors, including his age.

State prosecutor Michael Klackl declined to comment on the verdict. In his closing arguments, however, he criticized Irving for "putting on a show" and for not admitting that the Nazis had killed Jews in an organized and systematic manner.

Irving appeared shocked as the sentence was read out. Moments later, an elderly man called out: "Stay strong, David — stay strong," before he was escorted from the courtroom.

Irving, 67, has been in custody since his arrest in November on charges stemming from two speeches he gave in Austria in 1989 in which he was accused of denying the Nazis' extermination of 6 million Jews.

Earlier Monday, he told journalists he considered it "ridiculous" that he was standing trial for remarks made 17 years ago.

Handcuffed and wearing a navy blue suit, he arrived at court carrying a copy of one of his most controversial books — "Hitler's War," which challenges the extent of the Holocaust.

Throughout the day, Irving sat quietly and attentively in the stuffy courtroom.

Irving's trial was held amid new — and fierce — debate over freedom of expression in Europe, where the printing and reprinting of unflattering cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad has triggered violent protests worldwide.

"Of course it's a question of freedom of speech ... The law is an ass," Irving said.

Both the defense and the prosecution also addressed the issue.

"He is everything but a historian ... he is a dangerous falsifier of history," Klackl said, calling Irving's statements an "abuse of freedom of speech."

Gotta Have One of These!

2006-02-21T17:06:00.000-05:00

If you haven't tried this razor (click on link above), you don't know what your missing. I guarantee you men will actually look forward to a morning shave.

If You Steal Someone's Wallet, Make Sure She's Not an Olympic Athlete

2006-02-21T17:05:00.000-05:00

Hockey player runs down pickpocket
By CP

TURIN, Italy -- Gina Kingsbury is as fast on her feet as she is on her skates, especially when her wallet is stolen.

The 24-year-old forward on the Canadian women's hockey team ran down a pickpocket who took her wallet while she was shopping with her mother in downtown Turin late in the first week of the Games.

After buying souvenirs at an Olympic merchandise store, Kingsbury and her mother Marlise stopped at a pizza place and Kingsbury was placing her order at the window when the woman serving her started yelling and pointing.

A man who had been standing behind her started running away.

"It just clicked that he had my wallet and I didn't hesitate," Kingsbury said.

The 5-ft.-8, 137-lb. forward chased the culprit about 40 metres with Marlise running behind her loaded down with shopping bags.

"I caught up to him pretty quick and put my hand on his shoulder and as I turned him he right away gave me my wallet back because I don't think he wanted the public to see," Kingsbury said.

"I was so stunned that I had my wallet, that I didn't look at him, didn't say anything, I just grabbed my wallet and walked away. I don't know what I would have done if he didn't give me my wallet."

Kingsbury is relied on for her penalty killing and forechecking abilities on the Canadian team, which plays for gold today, so those skills came in handy.

Top 10 Cheney Excuses

2006-02-19T19:08:00.000-05:00

Top 10 Cheney Excuses

10. "Heart palpitation caused trigger finger to spasm"

9. "Wanted to get the Iraq mess off the front page"

8. "Not enough Jim Beam"

7. "Trying to stop the spread of bird flu"

6. "I love to shoot people"

5. "Guy was making cracks about my lesbian daughter"

4. "I thought the guy was trying to go 'gay cowboy' on me"

3. "Excuse? I hit him, didn't I?"

2. "Until Democrats approve medicare reform, we have to make some tough choices for the elderly"

1. "Made a bet with Gretzky's wife"

Hat tip to Dash!

2006-02-19T16:33:00.000-05:00

More Good Sense from Dr. Helen

2006-02-19T16:18:00.000-05:00

The wife of Glenn Reynolds has her own blog now and she writes from a psychological perspective. Check out her site-here's her latest on the short-sighted appeasement to this cartoon nonsense.

Need a Welfare Check? Just Threaten to Riot
"If you reward cruelty with kindness, with what do you reward kindness?"
--Hillel

You would think that governments as well as people in general would understand that appeasing and rewarding negative behavior doesn't work. It's basic psychology 101--but one that not even most psychology professors understand or put to use. And apparently, this concept is foreign to many of the politically correct persuasion outside the classroom as well--for them, their feeling of moral "superiority" trumps human nature and causes liberals to turn a blind eye to justice and acts of violence.

In Bruce Bawer's new book, While Europe Slept: How Radical Islam is Destroying the West from Within,the side effects of the appeasement of Muslims by the Danish government are clear--as their government pumps more and more welfare money into the pockets of disgruntled Muslims, the rate of violence against "infidels" there increases.

Bawer points out that in Denmark, Muslims make up only 5% of the population but receive 40% of welfare outlays. Many of these immigrants are told by their leaders that Muslim law gives them the right to "cheat and lie in the countries that harbor them." They are told to view the benefits they receive as jizya--the tributes that "the infidel natives of Muslim-occupied countries are obliged to pay to Muslims in order to preserve their lives." And the welfare offices in Denmark can be the setting for violence--termed "culture clashes" by Danish journalists. "Some clients lay waste to social security offices and hit social workers--not out of frustration but because they've learned that bullying gets them what they want. The Danish government is not repressive; welfare workers tend to be sympathetic and eager to help. Many immigrants perceive this as weakness, and exploit it, 'tyrannizing' the social workers." The Danish solution? More PC behavior--get translators to translate not only between languages but between cultures. Yeah, that will work.

Having worked with social security disability clients for 15 years, I can tell you that human nature is the same all over. The more competent clients who had held jobs and had truly bad misfortunes happen to them were often kind and treated me with respect. Those who had never worked, been fed a steady diet of entittlement and justification of the "system owing them" from family members and society were the most abusive, often threatening me or treating me as an object to be used to get them what they wanted (not that it worked one way or another--I just wrote an objective report regardless of threats etc.). I learned to talk in a big booming voice that commanded authority and never swayed from speaking in an objective manner-of-fact tone. Once the potentially violent client saw that I was not intimidated by threats or strong language, they often settled down and cooperated. Too bad European countries haven't learned this lesson--appeasement of violence doesn't work.

I think the last paragraph of Bower's book summarizes the conflict of the PC Danish approach to conflict best:

"The irony was tragic: .......having instituted a welfare system meant to safeguard every last one of them from so much as a moment's financial insecurity, and having built up a culture of extraordinary freedom and tolerance that promised each of them a life of absolute dignity and perfect equality, postwar Dutch men and women had raised up their children into tall, strapping, healthy, multilingual young adults--
...and yet they'd turned a blind eye to the very peril that would destroy them."

Dutch cartoons anyone?

Let's Just Give them the Keys to the Skyscrapers!

2006-02-19T15:28:00.000-05:00

If we let these animals intimidate us in to giving up our most sacred of rights, whre pray tell, does it stop? Jeff Jacoby of the Boston Globe gets it right:

When fear cows the media

By Jeff Jacoby, Globe Columnist | February 19, 2006

THE PHOENIX is Boston's leading ''alternative" newspaper, the kind of brash, pull-no-punches weekly that might have been expected to print without hesitation the Mohammed cartoons that Islamists have been using to incite rage and riots across the Muslim world. Its willingness to push the envelope was memorably demonstrated in 2002, when it broke with most media to publish a grisly photograph of Daniel Pearl's severed head, and supplied a link on its website to the sickening video of the Wall Street Journal reporter's beheading.

But the Phoenix isn't publishing the Mohammed drawings, and in a brutally candid editorial it explained why.

''Our primary reason," the editors confessed, is ''fear of retaliation from . . . bloodthirsty Islamists who seek to impose their will on those who do not believe as they do . . . Simply stated, we are being terrorized, and . . . could not in good conscience place the men and women who work at the Phoenix and its related companies in physical jeopardy. As we feel forced, literally, to bend to maniacal pressure, this may be the darkest moment in our 40-year-publishing history."

The vast majority of US media outlets have shied away from reproducing the drawings, but to my knowledge only the Phoenix has been honest enough to admit that it is capitulating to fear. Many of the others have published high-minded editorials and columns about the importance of ''restraint" and ''sensitivity" and not giving ''offense" to Muslims. Several have claimed they wouldn't print the Danish cartoons for the same reason they wouldn't print overtly racist or anti-Semitic material. The managing editor for news of The Oregonian, for example, told her paper's ombudsman that not running the images is like avoiding the N-word -- readers don't need to see a racial slur spelled out to understand its impact. Yet a Nexis search turns up at least 14 occasions since 1999 when The Oregonian has published the N-word unfiltered. So there are times when it is appropriate to run material that some may find offensive.

Rationalizations notwithstanding, the refusal of the US media to show the images at the heart of one of the most urgent stories of the day is not about restraint and good taste. It's about fear. Editors and publishers are afraid the thugs will target them as they targeted Danny Pearl and Theo van Gogh; afraid the mob will firebomb their newsrooms as it has firebombed Danish embassies. ''We will not accept less than severing the heads of those responsible," an imam in Gaza preaches. ''Whoever insults a prophet, kill him," reads the sign carried by a demonstrator in London. Those are not figures of speech but deadly threats, and American newspapers and networks are intimidated.

Not everyone has succumbed. The Weekly Standard reproduced the 12 cartoons, and some have appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer, the New York Sun, and even Spare Change News, a Boston biweekly sold by homeless people. But there has been nothing like the defiance shown in Europe, where some two dozen publications in 13 countries have run the cartoons, insisting that they will not allow thugs to decide what a free press can publish.

Journalists can be incredibly brave, but when it comes to covering the Arab and Muslim world, too many news organizations have knuckled under to threats. Thomas Friedman of The New York Times, a veteran foreign correspondent, admitted long ago that ''physical intimidation" by the PLO led reporters to skew their coverage of important stories or to ignore them ''out of fear." Similarly, CNN's former news executive, Jordan Eason, acknowledged after the fall of Saddam Hussein that his network had long sanitized its news from Iraq, since reporting the unvarnished truth ''would have jeopardized the lives of . . . our Baghdad staff."

Like the Nazis in the 1930s and the Soviet communists in the Cold War, the Islamofascists are emboldened by appeasement and submissiveness. Give the rampagers and book-burners a veto over artistic and editorial decisions, and you end up not with heightened sensitivity and cultural respect, but with more rampages and more books burned. You betray ideals that generations of Americans have died to defend.

And worse than that: You betray as well the dissidents and reformers within the Islamic world, the Muslim Sakharovs and Sharanskys and Havels who yearn for the free, tolerant, and democratic culture that we in the West take for granted. What they want to see from America is not appeasement and apologies and a dread of giving offense. They want to see us face down the fanatics, be unintimidated by bullies. They want to know that in the global struggle against Islamist extremism, we won't let them down.

Jeff Jacoby's e-mail address is jacoby@globe.com.

Here's my contribution:

Great Winter Weather Rant from Livey

2006-02-18T12:16:00.000-05:00

at Northwoods Woman. Nothing's more therapeutic than a heartfelt rant-I would post it in it's entirety because it's a classic but it contains a generous share of "F" words. Get over there yourself and while your there, look around a while!

Bullhead Creek

2006-02-17T22:43:00.000-05:00

My closest trout water when I lived in north central North Carolina was about 60 miles northeast at Stone Mountain State Park. Stone Mountain is a 600 foot high granite dome outcropping that rises abruptly from near the boundary of Wilkes and Alleghaney counties on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This is a rustic park-hiking trails, waterfalls and a large white-tail deer population that is off limits to hunters. The main stream running through park, cold and clear, is the East Prong of the Roaring River. For the most part the main park road follows the river's path from about five miles in to the park exit-probably a distance of eight or nine miles. For you western folks, this is something you would never call a river. Its average depth as it rolls and spills over pea gravel and medium-sized smooth, round rocks is about 12 inches-there are places where it is ankle deep and some plunge pools that might be five feet deep, but these deep pools are rare. This "river" spans at most 10 yards from bank to bank, which makes herculean casts unnecessary and even decent fly casting not a great priority to catch fish. The stream is heavily canopied and not the place for a bunch of fancy "false casting." If you make a decent backcast, you need to drop it on the water cause your next backcast will most likely be retrieved from a tree. The great thing is that the stream is stocked heavily in March and April and until the first week in June, it's all catch and release-in NC, we call this program "delayed harvest." From June to Labor Day, the banks are lined with bait fishermen and "cornflingers" who don't give one shit about sport, they just want to fry up a rainbow, regardless of the size. By July, the creek is pretty much cleaned out and the water warms enough for swarms of grinning, pasty-white toothless locals to float the river in tubes, digging Vienna Sausages out of pop-top cans and flinging chicken bones up on the banks. The river was restocked in October and reverted back to catch and release till the next June.

There are several feeder streams in the park that trickle off other mountains and hills and also hold trout. These streams for the most part are not stocked, feature small native brook trout and require hours of stooped-over hiking to reach the largest populations of these wild, beautiful specimens. An eight incher would be considered a monster, but they dart and dash like hummingbirds and their color is truly stunning.

One of the feeder creeks is called Bullhead Creek. Before the park was formed, this small stream with it's headwaters high up near the Blue Ridge Parkway was the location of a private club, the Blue Ridge Fly Fishers, that managed and operated the stream with a "beat" system that has roots deep in English fly fishing tradition. The stream has eight "beats" or sections, which are assigned on a first come basis-you signed a ledger at the old clubhouse, dropped a small fee in the envelope and the section was yours and yours alone for as long as you cared to stay that day. You signed out when you left and others could sign in. Each beat was distinct and the beauty of this particular stream, other than the fact you would not be bothered by others fishing your assigned water, was that the fish in this creek grew to gargantuan sizes due to being fed twice a week with trout chow. This small flow probably averaged a foot deep and no more that 20 feet across, but looking down from the path to the upper sections you would see 30-inch rainbows and browns finning and feeding. One day I was fishing and unbeknownst to me the Park Ranger flung in a large spray of trout chow right at my feet. Huge trout came out from under trees and rocks beating the water to a froth for close to two minutes. The unexpected commotion scared the hell out of me-I didn't see him but I'm sure the ranger was laughing his ass off. The next minute, the fury was over and all you could hear was trickling water. Before you got to the first section their was a place called the "Club Pool," a thirty-foot diameter, clear plunge pool that was full of medium to large trout of all sizes. These trout stayed there until they could be relocated farther up. This area was fairly open and a good place just to warm up with some false casting and occasionally hook one of these torpedos on a three weight rod and 8X tippet and have some fun. Beat One was a short section with huge boulders-not one of my favorites. Beat two was my favorite because it had long stretches of flat flow and also a lot of pocket water and it also allowed you to locate the large fish from the path up above, then go down and try to sneak up on them. Beat Three was actually a feeder stream of Bullhead called Rich Mountain Creek, a pain-in-the ass heavily canopied stream that contained wild brook trout and a million rhodedendrons whose tough, thick leaves would grab and hold a fly like no other vegetation I've seen. Beat Four was short and rocky but OK in a pinch, just as was Beat Five. Beats Six and Seven were long, beautiful and easliy fished sections that could be fished all day without hittlng all the prime spots. Section Eight went on for miles and miles ending up near the edge of the Blue Ridge Parkway-I never made it anywhere near the top.
Althought these trout could reach monstrous sizes, they were also old and wise-there wasn't a fly they hadn't seen and they would sit there finning in plain sight and you could drift a fly and a dropper right by their nose and not get a look. If they suspected you were there, and with me, lining them and flailing the water with the rapidity of a Japanese restaurant table chef chopping celery, it wasn't much of a secret-they would develop a full-blown case of lockjaw. One afternoon I made a good two thousand casts upstream into a little waterfall with a bead-head nymph. Lulled into a stupor, I was paying no attention when my line came tight. At the business end of the line was a 12 lb. rainbox and he was pissed, to say the least. With no place to go, he did the only thing he could-streak downstream like a rocket. I watched in horror as this beast went between my legs, the fly line and backing whistling downstream burning my crotch. My back was to the fish and my fly rod was between my legs, the tip-top five feet behind me. I lifted a leg and turned around to regain proper fishing position and dignity when the behemoth came streaking back upstream at the same high rate of speed, and you guessed it, streaked right between my legs again, twisting me into another "pretzel." After one more trip downstream and up and countless leaps, the thing finally wore itself out and I pulled the barbless hook out of his blunt, angry snout. He resumed his station at the base of the falls while I sat down panting and sweating like a Sonoran Desert mule.

If you ever get the chance, don't pass up Bullhead Creek-the best $12.00 you'll ever spend.

New Music

2006-02-17T00:26:00.000-05:00

I love discovering "new" music-I came across these guys, Clumsy Lovers, from Vancouver, in the last few days. Great mix of Celtic and Caribbean. Click on the link for a look at their new video-cool sound, kinda like Barenaked Ladies with a banjo!

Good Question

2006-02-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

Blogger Emily Zanotti asks the $64,000.00 question: "Why is it that they get their shorts in a knot over Muhammed cartoons, but have no qualms about eating him as a pastry?"

Don't Mess With Granny!

2006-02-16T23:54:00.000-05:00

Hat tip to Kathy.

What passes for fine fashion

2006-02-16T23:45:00.000-05:00

The ACTUAL fall line of clothes from designer Gareth Pugh from Style.com. Anyone who either buys or wears this crap should be denied the right to vote. Make sure you view the entire slideshow for maximun suckage. My personal favorite is this cretin-

2006-02-16T23:35:00.000-05:00

Click to enlarge!

Things That Make You Feel Less Manly!

2006-02-16T23:29:00.000-05:00

Bunk Beds
Disney World
Drinking Hot Tea
Ironing
Non-Halogen Lamps
Thinking Babies Are Cute
Personalized License Plates
Being a Girl's "Best Guy Friend"
Minor Chords
Discount Cards at the Grocery Store
White Zinfandel
Board Game Night
Cheese Club
Holding Hands
Getting Promoted at Work
Men’s Tennis
Wearing a Scarf
The Priesthood
Crest Whitestrips
Putting a Box of Baking Soda in the Refrigerator
Attempted Murder
Different Shades of White
(Eggshell, Ivory, Porcelain)
Birthday Cards, Especially When They’re On Time
Eye Contact
Using a Lint Roller
Vacuuming
Spoken Word Poetry
Phone Calls to Catch Up
Men's Pajamas
Smiling
Disposable Cameras
Lip Balm
Memories
Picture Frames With Words on Them
Europe
Protein Powder
Conditioner
Stretching Before a Workout
Any Bottle of Wine That Costs More Than $10
Pet Ferrets
Kayaks
Laying Out
Waving
Fabric Softener
Potted Plants
Magicians
White Jeans
Nailing a triple toe loop
Foreign Films

Things That Make You Feel Like a Man!

2006-02-16T23:22:00.000-05:00

Shirts and Skins
Being Color Blind
Thinking About Surviving a Natural Disaster
Explosions
Carving the Turkey
Knowing How to Tie More Than Three Knots,
But Not Bragging About It
Having YOUR Chair
Knowing the Infield Fly Rule
Wearing A Hard Hat
Taking the Points
The Smell of a Locker Room
Eating an Entire Pizza
Math Without a Calculator
Dunking A Basketball
Not Understanding Sports That Are Judged On Style
Punching A Wall
Athlete's Foot
Calling Your Friend a “Dumb Fuck” as a Term of Endearment
Destroying Nature
Pullups
Hugging With One Arm
Sticking Out Your Chest in the Mirror When You Get Out of the Shower
Drinking Bourbon
Keeping Emotions Suppressed
Low Fives
Killing an Animal
Speaking into a Bullhorn or Walkie-Talkie
Going To The Barber Shop
OWNING the Remote
Opening jar lids for women
Spitting Out Blood
Watching a Chuck Norris Movie
Catching a Foul Ball Without a Glove
Building Things
Breaking things
Packing No Toiletries
Sailing the High Seas
Walking It Off
Going up on the Roof
Pissing Out a Fire
Laughing at the WNBA
Crashing A Car
Hitting ONLY Driver at the Range
Going Bald
Controlling Fire
Jumping Up To Touch an Awning
Hurting Someone By Accident
Lifting Something Heavy
Drinking milk right out of the container

Feel free to add your own!

I Told You I'd been busy

2006-02-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

Pics of the new bass rod built for friend's political campaign auction. Click on for larger view.

Let the posting resume!

2006-02-16T21:10:00.000-05:00

I've tried to put some stuff up but for the last month I've been quite busy, which ain't bad at all in January and February-makes these cold, damp gray days go by faster. In addition to my regular job, in the last 30 days I've done 111 hours of teaching and also managed to build a couple of fishing rods so a good friend of mnine who is running for District Attorney in another part of the state can auction them off and use the proceeds in his campaign. It's hard to fathom that in two weeks it will be March and from there you can actually see spring. It's supposed to be in the low 70's here tomorrow, capping off an unusually warm week and I might sneak out and see if the fish are stirring in the shallow water at low tide. It'll be nice just to run the boat for the first time this year. I'll also post my Friday fishing story on time tonight and look forward to reading Pete's.

Classic Headlines

2006-02-16T21:03:00.000-05:00

THE YEAR'S BEST [actual]HEADLINES OF 2005:

Crack Found on Governor's Daughter

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says

Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers

Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?

Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over

Miners Refuse to Work after Death

Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant

War Dims Hope for Peace

If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile

Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures

Enfield Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges

Man Struck By Lightning: Faces Battery Charge

New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group

Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft

Kids Make Nutritious Snacks

Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half

Hospital Sued by 7 Foot Doctors

And the winner is....

Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead

Friendship is like peeing in your pants-Everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth.

2006-02-13T21:51:00.000-05:00

Valentine's friendship thought shamelessly purloined from Joan who stole it elsewhere.

"Remove the Sons of Bitches From Your Life"

2006-02-12T15:55:00.000-05:00

Great advice from Steve at Hog On Ice. We all know these people. If you do not excise them from your life as you would a cancerous tumor, they will eventually drag you down and kill you. They are inveterate hypocrites, backbiters and that's their good qualities. By virtue of mental illness or sheer meanness, the only pleasure they derive from life is to stir up shit and laugh while it plays out. They have a fundamental inability to be truly happy for themselves or anyone else and get their only joy in life from lobbing monkeywrenches into other's happiness. I too would rather have a leg lopped off than to relive childhood-all I can say is that I made it out alive, "bloodied and scarred, but alive," and a thousand times wiser for it. From that "experience," I have developed as a defense mechanism a "radar" so finely calibrated that I can detect bullshit, phoniness and those that traffick in misery at a thousand paces. Enjoy Steve's great post-bittersweet, poignant and tinged with hope.

Wedding

Etcetera...

The wedding was very nice, although I was pretty uncomfortable. While it is true that I lost enough weight to get into my tux, I am still somewhat fat, and my chest has ballooned up from the exercise I've been doing, so basically, I was unable to move my arms all night.

I would have danced, just to keep from looking weird, but I couldn't remember anything. I worked at learning salsa for two years, but ninety percent of it has vanished from my memory. I was able to remember a little merengue. Some people thought I had fallen asleep because I was sitting at the table with my eyes closed, trying to remember how to dance.

Some people were not put on this planet to dance. That's how it is. If I'm ever foolish enough to take up with a woman again, and she wants to dance, we'll go to my salsa instructor and figure it out, and then when she needs a fix, I'll take her to a club to shut her up. But I don't see myself keeping the floor hot at any more Cuban weddings. I did it once; I guess that will have to suffice.

Ivette's dad and her younger brother Jose spoke. Jose got all emotional, telling her how much he loved her. I sat there staring, realizing how much I had missed out on because my sister is such a hateful piece of crap.

There has been so much misery in my family. And none of it was necessary. No one was born deformed. No one was severely mentally ill. No one was an invalid. Or poor. In fact, we were all smart and talented. And white. And American. And affluent. My family's misery was caused not by bad luck, but by immaturity, selfishness, cruelty, and shortsightedness. By stupidity.

The funny thing is, I'm not like that. I'm not an angel, but I get along with people. I enjoy doing things for people I love. I like helping people. I like giving. I don't have to have the biggest piece of pie all the time. It doesn't bother me when someone else gets a little attention. We don't have to always watch the TV shows I want to watch. If you do something dumb, I don't feel like God appointed me to hammer it into your head over and over, until you have to leave the house because apologizing won't make me stop. I don't believe in being unfaithful. I won't steal from you if you leave your checkbook lying around. I'm not sadistic. I won't get pleasure from holing up in my room, thinking of ways to make other people dislike you or feel contempt for you.

I just don't cause problems that make people miserable. I am not a son of a bitch. I'm not saying I'm perfect. Just that I never, ever contributed to my family's problems in even the smallest way. I do not understand the inner workings of people who make life miserable. I may inconvenience you with my eccentricities. I may annoy you with my opinions. But no one has ever called me mean or abusive or envious. No one has ever had to walk on eggs around me. No one ever had to say, "Shut up. Here comes Steve."

A lot of people look back fondly on childhood. I wake up every day thrilled to be an adult. I still feel relief, knowing no one can mistreat me now. If you asked me whether I would rather relive my childhood or go to prison, I would have to think very hard before I made a choice. I guess I'd have to go with childhood, but only because prison carries the threat of gang rape and beatings.

If you told me I could relive my childhood or lose a leg, I'd tell you to start cutting, and that is no exaggeration. I could not face it again. For some reason, I started thinking about my childhood last night while I was trying to sleep, and I felt real pain. I listed horrible memories in my mind, and it surprised me how many there were. The pain kept me awake an extra hour and a half. It was the strangest sensation. Like having a broken bone, except that the pain was in my mind.

It's bad when things don't work out for people. It's bad when you and your wife try, but you end up with an unsatisfying marriage. It's bad having a job you don't like. It's bad when you have kids, and you do what you can, and they do what they can, and they still don't turn out the way you wanted. But misfortunes like that don't compare to the ones people inflict on themselves through stupidity. How can you face God at the end of your life, knowing you ruined everything for yourself and everyone around you, and that it was all due to deliberate, proactive measures you took for no good reason?

I'm sitting here now, afraid to try to imagine what our lives could have been. I'm actually afraid. I'm very happy these days; I've mastered happiness as a skill. I've learned where to look for it and how to hold onto it. I don't want to make myself unhappy by imagining a better world that could have been. I know I'll remember imagining it from now on, and I'll be unable to prevent myself from comparing it to what has actually happened.

I don't understand people who are not like me. I know what goes on in the minds of selfish, abusive people, but I don't understand how they can stand to be that way. How can you not know it when you're nothing but a source of needless suffering? How can something which is so obvious to everyone around you be imperceptible to you? Surely you know. You just lack empathy. That has to be the answer. To some degree, you have to be a narcissist or a psychopath.

Anyway, Ivette has a wonderful family. I'm sure they have their problems, but they all seem to be on each other's side. They celebrate each other's successes. They're proud of each other. I can't imagine what that must be like. I'm not saying the members of my family were never good to each other. Just that it was not consistent. It was inadequate. And poisoned by the many harmful things that were done. You can't fertilize a tomato plant once a week and pour bleach on it once a day and expect to get tomatoes.

I take pleasure in the knowledge that there are healthy families like Ivette's. I look at families like that, and I think, "Those people are like me; that's the kind of family I'd have if everyone in my family were like me." I've heard that during the Depression, people loved hearing about wealthy celebrities, because it comforted them to know that while times were hard where they were, somewhere far away, someone else was having a third Martini or being measured for a bespoke suit. I can understand that. I really enjoy seeing nice people do well, and I'm trying to do well, myself. There's still time.

Take my advice. Do your best to remove the sons of bitches from your life. I don't care if they're your brothers, your fathers, your sisters, or what. Remove them. It's like rolling a car off of a piece of sod. Just as the blades that were under the tires will straighten and grow, you'll gradually feel the strength and hope flow back into you. And don't forget to pray. I don't think anything works out in the long run without prayer.

I feel like the catcher in the rye. Trying to save people from lives of misery, by tossing out a few words that aren't likely to be read and understood and applied. Silly idea, I suppose. But every once in a while, someone reads a message in a bottle. Can't hurt to try.

Somewhere in South Carolina

2006-02-12T14:42:00.000-05:00

This place was found by Joan at Walk This Way-Drop by her fabulous site and while you're there, wish her a happy 50th birthday!

"Indedibly Etched"-Fishing and Memory

2006-02-11T22:25:00.000-05:00

I have a saying that I stole from some book I read over ten years ago-"Everytime you go fishing, at least one thing will happen that you will remember all your life." I have found that statement to be true in the extreme. I happen to be blessed with a fantastic long-term memory- (my short-term is lacking-for instance, I can remember our phone number when I was in first grade but I cannot locate my car keys at this time). All my fishing experiences, down to complete minutae, still reside somewhere in the recesses of my brain and a mere a mention of a place or time sets loose a torrent of detailed memories of the trip-what rod I was using, what reel I was using, who I was with, what the weather was like, what fly or bait was used, where the fish was caught and how many were caught. These experiences are recounted as if they happened that very day- as if they were the product of hypnotic trance. As my fishing buddy Scott likes to say, these experiences are "indelibly etched" in our brains. No shit!

I can tell you that I caught my first trout on a fly that I tied in 1993 in the East Prong of the Roaring River at Stone Mountain State Park directly across the dirt road from the trail that leads to Widow's Falls. I was using an Orvis 6'6' 4 weight rod with a Battenkill 3/4 disc reel. I was by myself and against the basic tenets of dry fly fishing, I was letting the fly float downstream of my position , not casting upstream and having the fly drift back towards me. I was using a fly called a bivisible tied on a size 12 hook and the fish was a stocked 12-inch rainbow-oh yes, it was the first week in May.

I can remember a float trip on the Snake River in Idaho with Scott and Mike Bradford and Ervin Brown where the weather in July began as hot and sunny but by the end of the day we were motoring the driftboat through a sideways freezing rain. I remember the sandwiches the guide fixed on the side of the river for lunch (I picked out the banana peppers) and I remember beaching the driftboats on a gravel bar to fish a 200 foot-long riffle where the fish rose with reckless abandon to gulp down the sulfurs (ephemerella dorothea) that rose from the pocket water.

I remember the three of us walking down a hill and fishing the Yellowstone River, standing in between boiling "paint pots," drifiting weighted nymphs in a deep back-eddy while the caddis flies were so thick we sucked them into our noses by the thousands. You can put up with that if you're catching large "cutbows," which we were.

I could drive right now to the exact rock on the Madison River below Slide Lake where every evening the caddis hatch came off at the exact same time and everytime I swung a caddis pupa across the stream it was violently nailed by a rainbow trout. I remember negotiating the steep sagebrush-covered slopes of the Gardner River Canyon near the northern border of Yellowstone Park and fishing the fast moving pocket water with big, bushy Royal Wulffs while a herd of elk grazed not 50-feet away.

I remember, and how could I ever forget, unfolding a brand new 10-foot cast net and throwing it over a huge school of menhaden. In my haste, I had forgotten one important step-putting the loop over my wrist. Scott and I watched as the green rope disappeared to the bottom of the 30 foot channel, never to be seen again. After the initial shock, we horselaughed the entire rest of the day and to this day still tell this story with glee. Cast net-$133.00. Having your friend watch you throw it into the water and disappear on your first cast-priceless!

I remember the exact details of every tailing redfish I have caught while wading grass flats at high tide. I can tell you the rod it was caught on and also the type fly I used. I can recall every detail of a South Carolina cobia trip year before last when we boated four weighing 55, 40 35 and 25 pounds respectively. I can show you the rubble from which I yanked out a 6 pound flounder last summer; the place where the bluefish went crazy one afternoon in the river; and the place on the South Platte that I hooked a huge rainbow that ran downstream between my legs and almost spooled me before me and the guide could chase it down and land it.

I do not say these things to brag-I have more times than not come home without getting so much as a nibble. I also remember those times as if they just happened. I say them to demonstrate the power of experience, especially shared experience. If I never fished again, I would be able to fish for the rest of my life by simply recalling and reliving with friends our precious time on the water.

Fish Story later today

2006-02-10T23:59:00.000-05:00

Sorry Pete-1 day late-been up to my ass in alligators this week.

Put your money where your mouth is-Support Freedom of Expression by buying Danish Products

2006-02-10T12:13:00.000-05:00

Iowahawk Cartoon Parody-A Classic

2006-02-09T11:28:00.000-05:00