Minecraft Owns Me Now

So I watched this:



And I was like...meh.

Then I saw this yesterday:

More Minecraft Videos

I thought: Hey, something I could check out.



That's my dog. Well, it's not really mine. I've got this house, which is just kind of a hole in a hill, and I put a door on it and lit it with torches and I keep digging and digging and I made a work table and chests to hold stuff... - sorry, so occasionally when I go out to kill cows for hides or chop down trees (only during the day; night has bad monsters) and I come home I find a skeleton has spawned somehow and the bastard shoots arrows but I kill him, sometimes after a spawn or two of my own (still working on good armor) and when I do I get a bone. I found some wolves and fed one of them 4 bones. And his/her collar turned red and a little heart <3 popped out of its chest and since then it just followed me. And if I accidentally hit it with a pick axe while mining, it doesn't even mind. But I don't like that so I tell him/her to sit on my bed.

I don't have a name for him (or her) yet because I'm viciously mining, as I mentioned. Actually, it's dead. Let's stop playing games while playing games. That screenshot was from when I had it sit on the bed. But I felt so bad, cooped up all the time? So I let him/her follow me (as he/she is wont to do) and while mining away from home a creature called a creeper came around a corner and exploded (as they are wont to do) and Dog-With-No-Name was just gone. And now I have to use my wood to make planks to make a sign so I can put it in that mine and give my dog a name post-mortem as a memorial.

Seriously, this post was going to be happy. I love this game. Then Ricky died. Of course: Ricky.

Well, Ricky will get a sign, and I need to get back to mining. Because maybe a skeleton will spawn and I'll kill it and take the bones and give them to a wolf and I'll name it Rickyz and it will never be allowed off my bed. Evar.

Yay Minecraft! Right?

Because I'm so Chipper These Days

via PostSecret.

Friday Videos: 7 Degrees of Alabama

Comedy Gold follows. Be prepared. And in the spirit of full disclosure, it's only really 6 from Alabama and a turtle fucking a shoe.

This is a news story from Alabama about 4 years ago. Some folks saw a leprechaun:




Another story from Alabama, apparently attempted rape - with a message:




And just in case someone starts waaambling about how attempted rape cannot be funny:



And yes, I knew (guessed) turtles made that noise when I was 14. I feel radically vindicated 19 years later.

UPDATE!

Holy shit, Alabama - what is wrong with you? This is a recorded conversation when a Huntsville reporter is interrupted by a bystander. WTF?




...and we can't forget the Flea Market video...




Oh, my Christ, make me stop Alabama!




Okay, Cullman Liquidation Ctr, but you're the last one!



Have a great weekend!

Sarah Palin and Shootin' Wolves

We'll be seeing much of this in 2012.



Her response: "I'm not Governor of AL anymore. Wait, what? A-L isn't Alaska?"

LOL's a-comin'!

Lost Dog

You ever turn a corner or get out of your car or just unexpectedly see something that turns your act into accidentally walking into a bus, but one just big enough that it plows right into your stomach?

That was me tonight hitting the gas station for smokes after a networking event.

I parked, got out, and gave all the crap scotch taped onto the glass of the AmeriStop a rudimentary glance and then

BLAMMO!

I saw something that looked like this:



Scrawled like that, a faded poster, copied with a cheap nickel copier, terrier in the slightly-skewed picture on the sheet. The "C" was in caps. And no name of the dog. No phone number. Just a sad, silent plea.

And I looked, thought "Aww, sad." Then read the last line and just about fell over. Then supported myself on weak knees as it processed that there was not dog name or phone number.

And for that instant, I don't think I've been that sad in a very, very long time.

So I share with you.

I'll be in the area again next Tuesday and will get a pic if it's still there. I hope to God I just missed something and my memory fails me in sorrow and there was contact information on that poster.

Yelowjackets: This is How We Do It In Ohio

So you've got a yellowjacket nest, hrm? Looks like Ricky Shambles needs to do some schooling so ya don't hurt yerself (based on true events).



Yellowjackets are NOT bees. They are yellow and black and fly and sting, but they are wasps (sting multiple times), terribly ornery, and tend to make their nests in the ground.

When I was 8, I was standing on a railroad tie in our backyard like I'd done hundreds of times before to get some water from the spigot. Suddenly I was being stung multiple times in the legs, straight through my knee-high striped baseball socks. Screaming ensued. Then calming. Then Grandpa and Dad went to work.

Observe
My daughter found the nest, smack in the middle of the yard. Luckily for us we did not learn that day whether she shares her mother's toxic reaction to stings.

So keep back and spend some time observing. Yellowjackets sometimes have a secondary, back door to their nest. When you attack, you will want to know if that is a potential.

NOTE: If the nest is out of the way, it's up to you if you want to eliminate it. If it is near the end of summer, you may want to leave it alone either way - this is when they go batshit crazy in a last-gasp effort to gather food.

Buy Death in a Bottle
Best stuff from what I could find online is a powder that spreads. But for my money, I like the immediacy of an expanding foam - two cans please.

Wait Until Night
Yellowjackets are active during daylight hours and as the night gets cool, they hunker down and go mildly dormant. If you're lucky enough to get an evening when the temp drops below 50F, the buggers will have a hard time even flying - if they get a chance to get out.

Suit Up
It was warm, but I put on thick socks and tucked jeans into my Harley boots, tucked my thickest Guinness hoodie into the jeans, and tightened that hood. That image is yours to play with, but the electronic copy (procured by my daughter) will not be available for viewing.

Attack
I hovered for a bit, awaiting any sign of movement or activity. There was none. I was alone. I had both cans shaken and to the side. I moved quickly and decisively at the hole (about as wide as my thumb), held the nozzle close and sprayed. Within a couple seconds the foam had rapidly expanded and was coming out of the hole, but I kept steady, aimed straight. When the first can sputtered, I hit it with the second, keeping a close eye on the expanding foam bubble for any signs of a superbug of some sort making a break through the foam.

But there was nothing. No movement. Not even any buzzing when I was done. They appeared to be gone.

Set That Shit On Fire
When I was stung as a kid, it had been on a Saturday. I remember that because that night my father and grandfather hosed that nest. The next morning, after church, we stood outside and watched Dad kick over that railroad tie to reveal the nest underneath. A couple 'jackets lay dead beside it. He walked back to the garage and returned with a gas can. After a fair amount of pouring, he lit a match and we watched it burn, standing there before the small fire in our church clothes.

I joined my father in this tradition at 6am the morning after my own foamy attack. Treading carefully I quickly observed there was no movement or activity. I poured some gas down the hole and lit the emerging fumes.


(I know, it looks like JFK's Eternal Flame.)

After a few minutes and a visible spread of glowing orange below the grass that was beginning to smoke profusely, it was obvious I had been over-zealous in the application of gasoline. I batted the fire out with my broom and returned to the house, feeling proud, feeling part of a legacy, and damn ready for some breakfast.

Han Solo for Wildlife Preservation

Joking aside (just for a second), this Wild Aid / CAWT PSA with Harrison Ford is meaningful and striking for a very good cause. Take a look:



So who saw the alligator frozen in carbonite?



Han Solo rules.

I Can Fly!

Yes. Yes, you can.

When we were in Columbus, we went to the Columbus Zoo. Many more aminal pictures to come, along with some choice words about crowds and stupid people.

Yoda the Four-Eared Cat

Yoda:



...or Evil Kitty.

I do believe we'll be sticking with a feline theme today.

If You're Not a Vegetarian Yet...

Thank God for the Humane Society, but this video is disturbing.



What's more disturbing? Our society. Bo Reagan, vice president of research for the Colorado-based National Cattleman’s Beef Association, said "The welfare of our animals – that’s the heart and soul of our operations."

But...don't you kill them? En masse? To make the yummy, innocuous Big Macs we glut ourselves on?

I would hate to see him care for the welfare of his own children.

It's videos like this that push me into meat avoidance for a few weeks, but my complacency as an American consumer that allows me to float back into the meat-eating world.

I know.