It's been a while, so here's how this works: I pick a first name and a year and do a Google Image Search (GIS for you geeks out there). Then I pick the interesting photo or photos I find and make fun of them or give them a photoshop work-over or both. Yay! Ready?
Generally anything circa 1990 or older yields some choice pics. But I was pretty disappointed by "Alberto 1979." Three damn pages went by before I was thoroughly entranced by this man's gaze:
Now I had to take an extra few minutes to find this mediocre gem (lesson learned: No more Alberto), and what better way to get revenge on an electronic file for time wasted than by wasting another hour of your time on it? Exactly. And I guess I'm kind of a dick on this one and went way too far, but here's your visual horror rebuilt:
Alberto copped quite the Coppertone glow on that nose-chin of his.
"Digitally Enhanced" video of the moon landing. "Jesus H. Christ in a chicken basket," I laughed until it hurt. Then watched it again and laughed just as hard.
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.
You thought I forgot. And I did until late last night.
But that makes it what time? I can't hear you!
That's right: Daïquiri Time
How can you tell that it's Daïquiri Time? The umlaut over the "i" is the first clue. The second is the seductive, lounging posture of the lady on the van. And third is the abundance of martini glasses both in the lady's hand and as a background element. Yay Daïquiri Time!
And as a bonus, here's a submission from Randal on the topic. I can't say it's a full-on van mural, but if our purpose here is to entertain, it fits the bill. If we count the level of suckitude, it even beats mine.
When I was finishing college, my English degree required a single author class. And the only thing available (unless I wanted to wait around) was Jane Austin. I read all 6 of her novels. And daily, it was like wiping all the crumbs and dirt and animal hair off the dinner table after a month of holiday parties, cleaning the grit between the leaves, and licking it all off a mildew-y paper towel that was on fire. Every day.
So I'm glad to see these two items. Enjoy them. And if you haven't read JA, don't. Ever.
After checking out Randal's Jabbering Wacky, I was reminded of a piece I put together a while back. Enjoy.
Gertrude Stein
Gertrude intrude rude Stein beer A rose is a rose is a rose Sounds pretty, doesn’t it? Sounds pretty, aren’t they? Sounds like stein. Pretty. Much. Many. Sheds light: dark or bright?
She said her repetition was necessity Repetition is necessary repetition, Mississippi Over and over a clover Red Rover
A rose had never been so red she said Bent red read twice after pretty So read, so heady Beddy ruddy ready Not clover, but a mushroom like Alice Told toad stool road read Bedspreads quilt patchwork farms
A rose is read, gets pretty well, gets dead Steins aren’t pretty, drink to death The rap-rap-rap repetition wraps my head Mississippi bent pretty, talk to us
“Okay, so what’s the question?” so she said on her deathbed, what’s the question? Red the rose? Are you ready? Over and over heading the rose road sheds Dead not dead is toasting is roasting it hurts, my head.
Our exalted ex-prezzy W has been long railed as a goon on many accounts, but the thread that runs through Osama bin Laden wanted "Dead or Alive" and the abject failure to do either is one of my favorites.
And today we learn that no only was Bush unable to catch Mr. 9/11 by conventional methods, but that a clandestine, super-hush-hush CIA operation aimed at assassinating Al-Qaeda leaders that was at least partially active and apparently shepherded by Uncle Grumpy Dick Cheney was also unsuccessful.
Angry Christians are calling in a sanctimonious batshit outrage with messages about the FFRF and AFTA that are anything but Christian. It is unsurprising irony. I deal with black billboards purportedly with messages directly from God, others with specific religious messages, and this monstrosity along I-75 known locally as "Touchdown" or "Butter" Jesus.
They all offend me personally.
I understand that this may be the first time some of the folks down in Pell City have seen or heard of these lyrics by that dirty hippie John Lennon, but lighten the fuck up.
This is not a message for you to give up your beliefs. This is not a message for you to change your beliefs or telling your kids to worship the devil. It is a simple thought experiment. Look, if it makes you feel better: if there were no religion, there would be no Muslims either.
I believe I just heard a pressure valve puff. But the furnace is still charged, the thoughts still un-christlike, and there are angry fingers dialing even now, at the commercial break of General Hospital.
Not a bad day; not by a long shot. But sometimes, maybe just an hour or two even out of a day can take this tone, and you're reminded of one of your tragically favorite poems.
Not Waving But Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith
UPDATE: Then it passes and you want to smack yourself in the back of the head for being a whiny bitch.
That guy next to me in his Pathfinder this morning that blasted ahead of me before the merge and proceeded to drive 5 mph BELOW the speed limit: dick. The woman behind me, crowding up and gesticulating? Asshole. But then I've got a dick in front and an asshole in back every day, don't I?
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Speaking of assholes, after stopping at the gastrointestinal doc yesterday and getting a prescription that made me blush*, I stopped to drop it off and with a crowd of pharm folks behind the desk, crossed my fingers and thought "Not-the-cute-girl-Not-the-cute-girl-Not-the-cute-girl- and when it was my turn, after three other techs walked by the counter, the cute girl looked at me and said "can I help you?" Ugh. She looked at the scrip for a second then looked at me and said "The wait's going to be about a half hour." "That's okay," I said, avoiding her gaze, "I'll pick it up tomorrow."
Today when I went it, I was pleased to see that the prescriptions now (because of HIPPA?) have the cover folded over so no one can see the name of what's in the bag. But it was the cute girl at the desk again. And she already knew.
[*Note: I can watch 2 girls, 1 cup without a shiver, but for some reason suppositories for minor hemorrhoids embarrasses me.]
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Linguistic pet peeves, all of which I've heard this week:
asterisk pronounced ASS-ta-rix especially pronounced ex-SPESH-a-lee espresso pronounced ex-PRESS-o "It's a mute point." "I'm taking a different tact."
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I was only lifting weights once or twice a week when they were in the basement so I moved them into my office with the logical assumption "I just don't work out that much because I'm too lazy to go to the basement." They are sitting two feet from me right now. Turns out I'm just too lazy to work out more than once or twice a week. But at least now they have my bike to keep them company and something in common to discuss.
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The Palm Pre rocks out hard. But c'mon already with the apps, developers! Oh yeah, I'm a developer. How about an app that uses your location to find nearby bars and pubs? On the list...
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It's 4:20. Since I no longer smoke pot it is time for a beer despite any work I have remaining. Didn't you know? That's the rule.
But I will leave you with How to Build a Lego Joint from www.pottube.com. Enjoy!
If you haven't heard me talk about XKCD, you're new or I haven't been talking about it enough. Self-described as "A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language," it's brilliant.
You've already seen this phatty from the second post, but it's necessary once more:
But these are all gravy. Or butter. Or duck butter. Or mullets:
And for now, my fair star travelers, that is the extent of our voyage. I beg you enjoy your fare and wait. Until next time. When we again shall venture...
...into the van mural universe!
And don't forget to follow me on Twitter - I tweet all my posts, and most often something more, and most often something more offensive. Cheers!
You might have heard that term. You might have laughed. But if that one-legged kid was Adam Bender, he'd be whoopin' the best of 'em. And that's all the snark you get from me on this one; he's awesome.
A BILLION THANKS FOR MAKING JUNE 2009 -- TOP JUNE IN DRUDGEREPORT'S 14 YEAR HISTORY! PAGE HIT 675,406,736 VIEWS FROM 129,922,878 VISITS... TRAFFIC ROSE 21% FOR MONTH OVER YEAR AGO [+39% OVER JUNE 2007]...
Matt Drudge is again dumping bullshit down the throats of his readers. While the site is popular (hell, even I visit it almost daily), the numbers he is reporting are NOT what they seem to be. And more people need to raise the call that he is duping everyone with his numbers.
I wrote pretty thoroughly about Drudge's fake numbers about a year and a half ago, so I won't get all that detailed. I will reiterate that the auto-reload and link loading in the same window is deliberately designed to inflate his metrics and mislead people into believing that he is getting much more traffic than he actually is.
(And much of the rise can be attributed to the increase of use of browsers with tabs that can let a page float [and reload] all day long.)
If you visit his site, get in and get out. Be informed about and not fooled by these engineered rankings.
Yes, your Ricky drought is over. I have returned from the East Coast (NC) and I'd like to talk about the beach.
The idea of the beach is an odd one to me. The beach is sand and ocean. The sand may be different colors in different parts of the world, but it's basically the same. The ocean is ...the ocean. It really doesn't change. It's big and humbling and will turn your shit into churned sand and wood and concrete in about five seconds in the right circumstance.
(NOTE: Granted, my entire career of web design could be turned into flailing electrons by a well-placed EMP, but I'm talking about the beach, damn it!)
There are people who love the beach. They would probably love any beach, but generally focus on one. And those people - the ones that get rich enough to afford it - purchase a house on the beach. And they name that house.
I'm not joking. I saw houses named Sea Therapy, Vitamin Sea, Ocean Hope, Sea Serai (sic), Julie's Dream, 3's a Charm, Bill's Place, What Happened?, The Office, and Everyone's Joy.
It's all very quaint.
And that's what made me sick.
I enjoy the beach. I can deal with it for an hour or two a day. But after that, I get burned by the sun and wonder what other lovely things I could be experiencing. So I read. Inside.
But what makes me ill is that I'm spending a bunch of money on a vacation that is basically...on the beach. We venture out to other places that are also on the beach but it is always a hot trap full of tourists.
And it is a solid mentality. People love it: House on the beach. Everything is about the beach. Or swimming. Or shopping at one of the 19,000 places you can see from your house that promises 5.99 purchases (in tiny words in tiny sections).
Those people who return to those places every year are the same ones who purchase homes and name them with non-witty monikers. And they laugh at trite commentaries and -- shit. Don't want to give it all away for you.
My ideal vacation is one of exploration of culture and exploration of geography and sitting in a pub and bartering at a market and killing an Arab. Sorry. That last one was a reference to a Cure song that was a reference to a Camus novel. Does that make me post-post-modern?
It's a wonder to sit on the beach that disappears at high tide. It's a wonder to be able to mellow out and think of nothing but what's on your mind. It's a wonder to be able to do any of the shit I just said.
Sometimes vacation can be beautiful, but not so much a vacation.
If you like my funny, political, or often inappropriate posts, you should probably skip this one. Though it contains pieces of all those things, it's incredibly personal and only being shared because it's bleeding out my ears and almost no one I know in real life reads this blog and it's not time to talk to anyone here yet. I've got to say something to someone. And you win!
So here's a little story I've got to tell about three bad brothers ya know so well...
Sorry. Wrong track.
The last few weeks I've been listening to a lot of music and situational filters have made everything seem so commonplace. Love songs are rocking into categories like: Unrequited Love, Longing for Love Lost, Apologies for Love Lost, Promises to Love Forever, Love of Jesus (that one time on Seek between here and Cleveland), and Love Love Love I Can't Get Enough Love - I Would Fucking Teabag Love - Because Love Solves Everyfuckingthing in the World.
And I'm wondering where the "Love is Great But After 8 Years of Marriage We're Splitting Up and Going to Continue to Live Together For a Few Months in a Limbo to Clear Off the Debt and Make it All Truly Amicable" category is.
Sorry. Just threw up in my mouth a little. I'm fine.
The wonderful lady you've sometimes heard referred to as Mrs. Shambles and I will be splitting at some point in the near future. We met 10 years ago, married 8 years ago with what was technically my step-daughter who was 6 when we wed (bio-dad was never in the picture, so I've been Dad since she started calling me that around the engagement).
When we met, we were both on the fence about having kids. Through the following years, our thoughts on the topic veered to the breaking point, where we are now: I'm happy with one daughter and do not want to have any children; she's not done being a mom and wants more kids. If I change my mind, she wouldn't trust it (happened once before that I acquiesced then reneged when I realized I was just trying to make her happy), and I wouldn't trust myself. If she changed hers, we'd both know it wasn't true to how she feels. If we stay together, either way, resentment ensues. And neither one of us can live that way.
The weird thing is that there is no anger but almost relief that there doesn't have to be any anger. The other weird thing is that there's no immediacy about it; we have to spend a few more months paying off debt - then figuring out selling the house - so we can make it as clean as possible. Not that that makes it even easier; hell, if anything: harder.
A breakup you know was coming, then one day it does. Suddenly every song is about your relationship, you relate this to past relationships, wonder what's wrong with you, see something while driving or hear something random and you're weeping uncontrollably. And then you go home to the spouse you'll be leaving.
I guess there's no real rules for this, no appropriate/inappropriate actions about it. It is what it is. And that we can be mature about it will be better for Irish Dancer. Thank God she's away at camp this week so we can hash it out a little more, confirm this is the definite decision before we'd sit her down.
But either way it sucks. There is no happy about it. There is no good about it. Maybe appropriate, but that's all you get. We'll do our best, but it's going to affect a 14-year old girl starting to solidify her opinions about life and relationships. And that, too, is sad.
As for me, I'm "fine." I can make it through most of the day focusing on work, break down once or twice when it hits me from a certain direction (like now, writing about it - note to self: retard!), and I haven't become a raging alcoholic over it. If anything, I'm exercising a little more. No, sorry, that's a lie. I haven't worked out in over 2 weeks.
For as much as I knew this time was coming - and even mentally hastened it after arguments about babies - I guess I'm holding it together a little better than I thought I would. And now I see pregnant women and babies and strollers every damn place I look. But I guess that's normal too.
Just so you know, I won't be updating this saga every day or month or anything. I'll probably make some sort of mention when it's all over, but venting and whining isn't really me when it comes to personal stuff on this blog; there are too many morons in politics and to many idiots in this world I need to post about. So I'm always happy about comments, but if you really want to interact about the subject, my email's available in by blog profile. I just wanted to let you know why you may not be seeing as much of me.
Wish me luck I guess. I want this to live up to our expectations of being completely adult and professional and etc., but when we're dealing with 10 years of memories and a 14 year old girl and the families (who - god knows when we'll tell them) and me who cried at the end of Short Circuit 2, that's a long, thin pole to balance over a sea of potential tumult.
I'll do the best I can.
Thanks for listening. I mean reading. You know.
Now quit'cha cryin' and watch that video below or look up "2 girls, 1 cup" or something.
Now don't get all weepy on me. I know, I know. It'll be hard for a while. But you'll get over it. C'mon, you won't even know I'm gone. You'll ease into it and just when you're feeling okay about my absence... Then BAM-motherfucker I'm all back up in your face with geek shit and van murals and political snark. Shazam!
Today I was in the car for 15 minutes. And in those 15 minutes I heard Rush Limbaugh push the foulest of verbal buffalo diarrhea out his maw.
Rush was discussing South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford and the fact that his affair was an act of hypocrisy - according to the Democrats.
But Rush declared that hypocrisy in and of itself is actually a good thing. Why is hypocrisy a good thing? Because by definition it proves that morality still exists! And therefore (it was implied), Gov. Mark Sanford was actually doing a great service to our country. Unlike those evil, godless Democrats who exercise moral relativism.
Hold on a second - this requires a sidenote:
Moral Relativism is a broad term 90% of Rush's audience wouldn't comprehend. It basically means: depending on the circumstances [i.e., subjectivity], the same action can have different moral implications. Rush's implication is that there is an objective morality, which would be fine if there were. The use of the phrase is to elicit a fat response on the general liberal dichotomy of "killing is bad" and the right for a woman to choose whether or not she has a child. Unfortunately, on our side, the "beginning of life" is not religion-bound. Also unfortunately, the right wing says that killing for war and killing for self-defense is okay. So if their definition of ending a life is dependent on circumstance, that falls directly into the definition of moral relativism. Red herring.
Rush is brilliant but he chooses to use his powers for evil, to distort reality, to make Democrats and liberals seem like a moral disaster while Republicans and conservatives deal with the same dichotomies every day.
Allow me to return to the main topic at hand: the Governor of South Carolina disappeared for seven days, let no one know where he was (at least as what is admitted publicly), and flew to a foreign country to shack up with his lady-friend. Forget the infidelity issue, forget the foreign-soil fuck-fest. This is a State (and potentially National) Security issue. If anything happened in SC while he was gone, anything serious, it would have been a bureaucratic disaster.
The issue, Rush, is not about hypocrisy. It is about one of your fav topics: national security. So where is that rant?
This post is not to say that right-wing radio is being biased. It is that right-wing radio is doing harm.
And yet I would fight - every day of the week - against any "equal time" legislation. If you can hear the filth of morons on a daily basis, wouldn't you want their rants and ideologies out there for the pickins?
For the record, there is an absurd abundance of Star Wars van art. I know I have already posted one such example, but this might require a special edition that I will compose for next week.
FYI, I'm #1 and #2 for bad van mural on Google. WTF? FTW!
President Obama still has the occasional cigarette. Hey, me too. All the Repubs are still using the messianic language as a mockery. I think this flaw in particular makes him more human. Though I'm still pissed about the FDA legislation.
Yes, I watched the episode. In the above link, Kate says "It feels like I failed." Good, dear. You did. When they announced it, I all but jumped up off the couch and cheered that Jon was distancing himself from that poison energy and giving himself a chance to find out who he was again.
If you missed the story, the above chicky came home with 56 stars tattooed on her face, her pops flipped his shit and she told him she only asked for 3 stars and fell asleep and woke up with 56. Oh Noes! International media coverage ensues. She sticks and sticks and this week finally confesses she asked for 56 stars and changed her story when daddy got angry. I believe everyone already knew that.
But it didn't help that the tattoo artist looks like this:
As of right now, he's back in good ol' SC. Two days ago, when he'd been missing for 5 days and completely incommunicado, the staff said he was hiking the Appalachian Trail. That is, the trail he didn't want stimulus money to fix and a hike that corresponded with National Hike Naked day, all over Father's Day Weekend.
Then today he returned ...from Argentina. Ooh, of course. Buenos Aries, that all-popular last-minute destination of so many disappearing politicians. I'm guessing 1) we have not heard the last of this story and 2) Marky Mark isn't going to be running for Prez in '12.
It appears Iranian citizens are still protesting pretty strongly despite the crackdown and violence against them. N. Korea is getting feisty and wingin' threats at the Good ol' US of A. Keep an eye on these two. We might be in store for some serious shit before the 4th of July holiday weekend (and pay SPECIAL attention then - that's when politicians get hinky because they think you're not paying attention)
Today's just the video day, I guess. Totally random, guys. We can call it Video Monday or Movie Monday or something like that if it makes you feel good about putting this blog into a box but just know that I'm unique and that's what makes me different and you can't put me into a box - I don't even have a box, man! Oh, el-oh-el. Whatevs.
Sorry. Channeling some hybridization of my alternateen days with that of my daughter's beginning revolt. Weird.
But this video isn't weird. It's hilarious. From The Lonely Island's debut album "INCREDIBAD," I give you "Jizz in My Pants."
I heard this artist/song on the French station Sirius 87 Bandeapart. That is because American radio sucks a left nut unless you want to lick on Hanna Montana. Trust me; it is in English and it is brilliant.
It begins: "Read a book, read a book, read a motherfuckin' book..." (semi-racy animation with rap-level cussin')
So Israel's had their panties in a jam to bomb the hell out of Iran for a while now. And then Iran has to go and get all election-y and potentially be "not so bad" in the near future. So Israel and probably the CIA or NSA quietly digs their claws into Iran, undermines the election so that everyone's favorite devil - Ahmadinejad - is solidly in place and all is well and good and back to par. The status quo remains and Israel's bombs can fall.
Not sure how N. Korea's shenanigans are going to factor into that, but it can't be good.
Obviously, over the course of time, some smokers take advantage of their smoke breaks, some smokers rack up sick days and some of those days have to do with smoking.
But as the comments - and my own opinion - suggest, people who are overweight log more sick days too. I guess we need to not hire fat people. And people with kids use their sick days to stay home with their kids when their two-working-parent home would otherwise be vacated. We should probably not hire people with kids either.
I understand the logic, but am terrified at the slippery slope we are working at.
How do we resolve these ideas? How do I resolve them in my own head?
Twitter is down right now. And I can't even tweet about how Twitter is down and how that sucks. What do I do? I'll blog about how Twitter is down and I can't tweet about how it's down. I'd tell you to follow me on Twitter, but you couldn't right now.
And the void swirls, I am left without balance.
"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold" - Yeats.
We're not scare mongering This is really happening Happening We're not scare mongering This is really happening Happening Mobiles quirking Mobiles chirping Take the money and run Take the money and run Take the money
So a woman in Chicago started a blog about her pregnancy. The baby had a terminal illness and to die quickly after birth. But she would still have the baby. And anti-abortion nutters went gaga. Juicy fucking emotive gaga.
And then she published a picture of her and the newborn and concluded the story saying that the child had died. At least one of her readers owned the same creepy, lifelike newborn doll (surprise!), and called out shenanigans. And then it unraveled. You can read April Rose Mom Beccah Beushausen's apology, which is all that is left of the blog, here.
Beccah says she actually did lose a child in 2005 and that this was her finding that voice, a way to deal with that loss. But that's not the interesting part.
The right wing, anti-abortion zealots who had found a poster child, a patsy, an exemplar of their beliefs, are outrageously pissed. She betrayed their trust, made a mockery of their convictions, blah blah blah. And from what I've read, the left wing, surprisingly, is not soaking in the schadenfreude, but bitching their own sanctimonious bullshit about how awful it was to get the right wing, anti-abortion zealots all worked up over a false prophet. [NOTE: I'm guessing the glurge from the left is only emerging now because, like me, most of us only heard about this once the hoax became public and if we'd heard about the blog before we wouldn't have given it 5 seconds of our time.]
To both sides: stop your fucking whining.
To the right: You're the same mess that goes into depression in week 10 of Survivor because after the merge, the cute guy from Boston wasn't the tried-n-true person you thought he was. You got suckered. Get the hell over it. If you spend that much time on the internet and don't know that you're probably reading or viewing something that's potentially not true dozens of times a day, you deserve the emotional punch. It's the internet! Someone started a blog and started a story, played a role. There are no guarantees that anything is real. Hell, my name's not really Ricky Shambles! Gasp! And instead of doing something for real about your beliefs, you hung your hat on baby April, your sacrificial lamb. That's right; Beccah was just the vessel, and the fact that the vessel would allow that child to come into the world and potentially suffer a great deal before quickly dying rang a bell in some sick, sad part of you, justified that anti-abortion-under-any-circumstance bit that you're irrationally and desperately holding on to.
And then none of it was real. And your beliefs are hanging nowhere. And in a completely viable act of mob-rule ego-protection, you exhibit anger and flap the naive flag that all is not what it seems on the internets. Stop. You're compounding your foolishness.
To the left: Anything you say right now about being angry at Beccah is muddying the very clear whine of a million outraged suckers. Stop.
Well, there you go. I finally did it. I cleaned up that old list of links I used to call a blogroll. And - damn! - there were quite a few defunct destinations, whether they were not even found or stopped posting soon after the last election.
The good news is that all the goodies that still existed and all the folks I follow have been updated in the new, improved, blog list in my side column. It ranks by most recent update, which makes me think I might strip out a couple of the mainstream feeds in honor of people who have great content but cannot post 30 times a day.
RevPhat has put together the official Million Can March post over at Les Enrages. I suggest you get over there right now, take a gander, get the code for that lovely dancing can badge (now in my right column), and start organizing! We have less than one month to donate 1 million cans.
RevPhat over at Les Enrages had this fantastic idea - while a couple dozen teabaggers per city were raising the false alarm of socialism on July 4th - that us liberals could get together and organize a horribly socialist event of our own: feed the hungry. I know, how wonderfully evil, right?
Check out the link (over 100 comments!), join the brigade, and here's a sample of an animated badge:
Once I get the final tweaks and go-ahead I'll figure out a way to get the code to all of you so you can embed it as well.
Be back soon with updates.
UPDATE: The code has been passed and I'll be blogging about the results in the morning in order to send you all over to RevPhat's place to get it and add it to your sidebar.
Bad news is I forgot Wednesday. Good news is you now only have 5 days to the next installment!
Hey, who's that fat kid wrestling a croc? Kinda looks like that Crocodile Hunter guy who was eaten by a swarm of zombie manta rays, but I can't seem to focus on the image. The scrawled web address is so blinding...
On the good side, can't say the Oz national flag even says Aussie Pride! that loudly.
I signed up for the Cincinnati area Freecycle a while back - it's a offer/request board giving people a chance to connect one person's trash to another person's treasure. Dang that sounds dirty.
I've never actually used the service, but do find it interesting. Such was the case today when this list of offerings came across:
1 partial bottle of African Violet Food
Schick Quattro razor (no blades)
$5 Huggies pullup coupon exp.7/09
6? stryofoam egg cartons
bag of gardening magazines (Backyard Living & Gardening How To)
Joking. I'm only 32. And understand that people who lived through Viet Nam think it is AWESOME when someone who didn't makes a joke about it. Sweet.
This post comes to us from the wonderful and lovely Distracted By Shiny Objects over at A Tidings of Magpies. However, I will forgo the obligatory "these guys are tagged!" Or maybe not. We'll see how I feel at the end of this.
1: What is your current obsession? While juggling my own business so we don't end up on the street and home duties so we don't end up on Clean Sweep, while spending quality time with my family and carting around our daughter to half a dozen appointments every week, my current (and ongoing) obsession is wondering where I went and salvaging any scrap of time I can to spend time with him.
2: Which item of clothing do you wear most? On any given day it's a tug-of-war by time. I work from my home office, so if it's a crazy coding day or a generally rough day, my pajama pants wearing tops the 12 hour mark as it is padded by the overnight hours. If it's a good, active, busy, or particularly proactive day, jeans all the way. Today was pajama pants with a Guinness print (fav). Favorite jeans are the dark, soft ones Mrs. Shambles hates.
3: What's for dinner? Kraft Mac n Cheese with Ball Park Beef Franks (those Turkey ones suck).
(For the record, we generally like to cook; yesterday was grilled teriyaki halibut steak with garlic broccoli and carrots with stuffing.)
4: Last thing you bought? Last actual purchase was OJ, 10 cal Vitamin Water (orange), beer, and Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Last thing I bought for myself was Marian Call's "Got to Fly," #405/1000 signed by her. It is delicious.
5: What are you listening to? Sirius Radio Channel 86: CBC Radio 3. A.C. Newman's "Like a Hitman, Like a Dancer" is playing now. How come Canadian Indie is so much better than American Indie right now?
6: If you were a God or Goddess, who would you be? Ideally, Kartikay, son of Shiva, brother of Ganesha, peacock-riding, demon-slaying, six-headed (one for each teat-set of his six goddess nursemaids) scientist god of Hinduism. But I do have a mean Dionysus streak in me as well.
7: Favourite holiday spots? Ireland was fantastic, so that's probably the fav so far, but anywhere I can explore non-tourist culture with or without a plan, funded or shoestring, is good with me.
Antithesis of this answer is sitting on a beach for a week or two, tanning (which I do not do gracefully), tour buses, and buying straw hats and polyester palm tree shirts from the hotel gift shop.
8: Reading right now? No, typing.
Perdido Street Station by China Mieville. I guess it's a form of speculative fiction scifi fantasy, but with some real grit, focusing on a human scientist, his insectoid lover, and a grub that eats psychoactive drugs
9: Okay...what were you thinking about just then? See question #1.
10: Who's your hero/heroine? Ghandi is my hero. Gary Oldman if we're leaning Hollywood. Never tried heroin.
11: First spring thing? Stripping the closets for the Goodwill truck. Then going to the Goodwill store for some tasty retro wardrobe choices.
12: Funniest thing you saw in your life? For me, funny is momentary, always mutable, and usually is on the internet. What keeps me laughing? Angry Alien Productions library of 30-second animated movie synopses featuring bunnies is always a winner. Teen Girl Squad also.
And then there's Kids in the Hall's Gavin.
13: Favourite film? True Romance. "You're so cool."
14: Share some wisdom?
One who speaks does not know One who knows does not speak
-- Lao Tzu - Tao Te Ching - Verse 56 15: If you were a tree, what tree would you be and why? Some of my fondest childhood memories revolve around a red maple in my parents' front yard that I used to climb frequently, allowed to or not. Even carved a heart with the initials of myself and my gradeschool sweetheart. If I could provide that joy, that solace, to anyone, that would be it: Red Maple.
16: Fictitious characters who made a lasting impression on you? Walter Mitty, Peyton Farquhar, Billy Budd, Dorian Gray, God
17: 4 words to describe you? I need to live.
Yeah, I'm going to forgo the "8 person" rule. I have to make dinner. #3. If you read this and want it, then just frickin' do it. Comment or email and I'll add your site in an update.
So with all those fancy numbers I spouted last week, I was inspired to make a little coin off the 100+ daily visitors. I signed up for Adsense. Being a web developer, I've done this for a couple clients, but never really for myself.
For those that don't know, you can apply for an Adsense account, get some code to put on your blog, and ads show up on the right and when someone clicks them you get a couple pennies.
Got the official "Welcome to Adsense" email this morning, set up a couple sample ad accounts, added them to a widget on this site and...
Security Error: Content at http://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/ may not load data from...
The Google Ads will not display on my blog at all.
First thought it was a Doubleclick issue, an acquisition of Google's that has been pegged in the past for malicious ads that want to put their naughty parts in your computer's secret places. And after further research I think I figured out that it's not that, but Google's terms of enlightenment that have pegged me. From everything I can gather, I swear too much.
To that I say: ....................../´¯/) ....................,/¯../ .................../..../ ............./´¯/'...'/´¯¯`·¸ ........../'/.../..../......./¨¯\ ........('(...´...´.... ¯~/'...') .........\.................'...../ ..........''...\.......... _.·´ ............\..............( ..............\.............\...
Sometimes I forget that everyone doesn't live on the internet like I do and therefore may not keep up with all the floating memes out there. Here's a relatively new one.
I was watching Back to the Future this morning and it occurred to me that if Doc Brown diverted the electricity away from the clock tower in 1955 to get Marty back to 1985 then the clock would never have been burned out, the annoying "Save the clock tower!" lady would never have been begging for money or have handed Marty the pamphlet, never alerting anyone to the exact time of a lightning strike.
I'd go with Lost's personal timeline theory, but sticking to that would also dictate that no matter what Doc Brown did, Marty's timeline contains the past event of lightning going into the clock and the gimmick with the wire wouldn't/couldn't have worked, like shooting Ben as a child.
(How doe something electrical irreparably damage a huge mechanical structure, anyway?)
And then Marty and Doc would've had to become gay lovers in 1955. Great Scott!
I've been hitting a couple new avenues lately and thought I'd let you know a little about them.
Neti Pot
Don't know if you've heard of this natural remedy for allergy symptoms and general sinus discomfort, but - oh, I know, I know. You're saying "Sinus?!? But it looks like a porcelain oil lamp. WTF?!?
And by now you've probably already eyed the picture below, which - barring overly verbose description, basically works like this:
Then, of course, you have to do it like this:
Then you blow your nose and the feeling of sinus clarity will blow your mind. I do it once or twice a week and on those not-so-fresh (sinus!) days. Just close the door to the bathroom when you're doing it, 'cause, gross.
Frittatas
Totally not my frittata
At least that's what I'm calling them. 1/4 T butter, heated in pan, drop about 1/4 C leftover spaghetti into the pan and heat to butter bubble. Drop 2 egg whites, cook almost through, flip. Slide to plate, coat with thin layer of hummus.
Sofa King delicious. And pretty damn healthy too.
"Rolling Chair On Carpet" Pad
This wouldn't be that big a deal, except that the chair I have, with me sitting on it, drops a screw/bolt head low enough to rub the carpet (no joking, please). So after dealing with strings and tears and finally gaff-taping the damned bare seam in the carpet, I got one of these. And it is wonderful. Roly wonder, no snags necessary.
So not all that exciting today, just a couple things that've been on my mind.
This is representative; I would not hold a wild bat.
Yesterday morning I was letting my dog in and I heard a sudden and incessant chirp-like noise followed by a brief flutter. I froze, wondering what kind of god-awful bug had made it into our home, and simultaneously spotted it: out of one of my shoes flopped a single bat wing.
OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod - breathe!
I leaned over and grabbed the towel sometimes used to wipe off re-entering damp paws and as I slowly approached the shoe, towel held up half in defense, half in expectation of capture, it emerged, chirping, and took a couple fumbling flaps towards me. Like a teasing, shaking, fumbling toreador, I let out a sound that must've resembled a groaning dog and dodged the bat, which landed on the floor.
After a quick toss, a careful roll, and a short trip to the deck, I released our previous captive, who took quickly to the air.
Weirdest thing: the dog and cats were not acting weird or prodding at the shoe which - with a wild animal - I would've expected.
And the only thing I thought - and still think: dude, there was a fucking bat in my shoe.
I just took a gander at my numbers and it appears I've been blogging for 3 and a half years (January 2006 start). And I've topped 900 posts. I'll use 1000 as an excuse to get drunk and post my greatest hits (or at least what I think are my greatest hits), but thought you folks, my lovely readers, might appreciate an update of how much wonderful time I spend with you, even if it isn't really "with" you. You know what I mean ;)
Most of my readers blog, so keep doing what you're doing. You make differences in lives every day. Seriously. Every day.
This deserves another view of Sean Hannity, Assclown.
Hey there loyal readers! I promised some statistics a week or so ago and here they finally are!
(if you are not using Google Analytics yet, do it now. Now I say!)
3,005 Visits have been made to this blog in the last 30 days, putting me at a hair over 100 visits a day. In that time, 2,850 Absolute Unique Visitors racked up 3,555 Pageviews which is 1.18 Pageviews on average which does not surprise us with a 26 second average time on site. 88.59% of my visitors showed up, visited no other pages, and left (bounce rate).
By far, the majority of my visitors came from the Good Ol' US of A at over 88%. But the top 5 after that were Canada, UK, Australia, Germany, France. In the last 30 days people from 74 countries visited these pages.
And of the people using search engines to find me, the top 25 words or phrases people are using to do so are as follows: andrew wilkow stephanie mohr dungeons and dragons porn wilkow glenn beck is a douchebag naked glenn beck douchebag andrew wilkow wife "stephanie mohr" olivia munn morgan webb andrew wilkow show warcraft pron bad jesus jokes bad photoshop d&d porn scrabble commercial lindsay lohan morgan webb naked ah teens ah-teens jesus dog butthole cause for concern glenn beck shirtless let freedom ring lyrics hannity baman piderman
(I'm particularly proud of the glenn beck / douchebag juxtaposition)
So perhaps you don't give a shit or perhaps it's just enough to wet your willy and squirt funny-juice all over yourself. Or not.
Either way, I do hope you've enjoyed my stats. If anything changes, I'll let you know.
If you have questions about Google Analytics or any of my stats, please hit me up in the comments. Remember: IRL I'm a web developer.
Yesterday, May 26th, 2009, Julianna Rose Mauriello turned 18.
That is all.
UPDATE: The previous picture I had up was a noted 'shop - and I didn't catch it. It has been replaced. I'm not one to back down from controversy, but that's not really controversy, just disrespect. And she's still attractive.
Last week, Rush - based on a "sample" of three people in the studio - proclaimed that all the skinny people he knows drink regular pop and the fat people drink diet. And therefore: diet pop makes you fat.
Today I heard him say that exercise does not matter; if you want to lose weight, you must change what you eat.
There are quarter or eighth-truths here, but it is clearly flawed, borderline retarded logic.
And with this wit he attacks the left, claiming Obama wants everyone in the country to be poor, wants to feed America to blacks for reparations.
How is it that this douche is the voice of the Republican Party? How do the Repubs not see why they're in this situation?
Keep giving them rope. More and more rope. It only gets better.
Last week we introduced Rape Van Wednesday. Unfortunately, I self-defeated by posting the definitive image of a rape van. So from now on, Wednesday will be Van Mural Wednesday, as the standard I set was just too high. Worry not, though. Should I find a more exemplary or worthy (or should you point me in the right direction of an) example, I will gladly post it under the title Rape Van.
For now, we will mix it up with sometimes iconic, sometimes interesting, sometimes horribly shitty murals.
Today, we've got a shitty Star Wars mural on a modded gold van. WTF?
Over the weekend, my father, who works for the mayor of a Cleveland suburb, was explaining that next year in the high school system everything but the state mandated minimum was going to be cut. That means that all the high school kids in the district will go to school for under 5 hours a day, cutting everything except English, Math, Social Studies, and Science. That means no music, art, or theatre.
This, of course, stems from the way schools in Ohio are funded: primarily by property taxes. The state lottery also funnels money into the schools, but as soon as that was instituted the crooked politicians channeled most of the non-lottery money into other projects. And despite a 1997 Ohio Supreme Court ruling that property tax funding of the schools was unconstitutional, in 12 years nothing has changed. Except the installation of No Child Left Behind which provides regulations but no money for implementation, further crippling struggling schools.
This is happening all over Ohio, all over the country. Schools are being stripped of enrichment as budgets fall off from a mix of shitty management and shitty economy. As of right now many children are being pushed through high school without some of the things we considered basics: writing a five paragraph essay, understanding of grammar, basic knowledge of science, history, government.
And then what do they do? They try to get into a college having had a year or two or three of 5 hour days, no extracurricular offered. And if they can get into college, they're looking at $30,000 for an inexpensive state college 4-year degree.
This weekend, as I was soaking in the collapse of the educational system that provided me with quality schooling, I came across this article (or one like it) about how colleges are entertaining the idea of a three-year degree to make college "more affordable." So don't knock down absurd spending levels or sick tuition hikes, but slim down your requirements and push the student through ASAP. That is if it's not a bait-n-switch: "Ooh, sorry, you missed the 3-year degree by 2 credits. Not going to give up now, are you?"
So we're pushing the high school students through at absolute minimum so they can barely get into a college that is too expensive so they can chug through that at the minimum 3 years so they can end up in a work force that - if they can get a job - will devalue their education, paying them much less whilst they sit atop some $20K+ in loans. And that's just the undergrad.
And we're spending trillions on banks and car companies? Where's the education reform? Where's the NCLB repeal? Where's the money for the important things?
Needless to say, it makes me mad. And as the father of a 13-year old, it scares the shit out of me.
I heard some Republican choad this morning say that they would never enact a system that would place a bureaucrat between a person and their health care.
I say that (or technically a law facilitating care) is much better than what we have now: a shady insurance company who's sole, driving interest is to DENY you access to that care in order to maintain a substantial profit margin.
But I guess Republican lawmakers can't get kickbacks from a law.
So now Congress won't give Obama his $80 million to close Gitmo.
(Wait; why again does it cost $80 million to close Gitmo? As Ron Paul puts it: "A padlock costs about 10 bucks and buses are cheap.")
Well, where them terr'rists gonna live? I doan want no Osama bin Laden walkin' roun on my streets.
First off, they're not terrorists; they're enemy combatants. If we were being faithful to the Geneva Convention, they'd be called Prisoners of War. Second, they aren't being released into the wilds of Small Town America. They would go to one of our jails.
But them terr'rists could break out and come get me and my family cause they hate America cause of our freedoms.
There are about 2 million people in America's prision system at any given time. There are less than 250 detainees at Gitmo. Have you ever had an escaped convict enter your home and threaten your family?
Well, no, but they hate America cause they're terr'rists.
But I told you; they're not terrorists. Some of the people in America's prisons are actual terrorists. Like the Unabomber? Many of the other convicts are murders. They hate life. I saw a guy on Discovery the other day who was in prison at 15 and said it was his personal mission to kill as many people as he could before he died.
Aww, he's just a kid. But them terr'rists are tricky.
What about Montana? There's a prison up there that wants the terr- dang, detainees. Says it'll create over 100 jobs.
Yeah, but they'll break out and then it'll be terr'rists on our streets.
It snows a lot in Montana.
Hmmm...that might work. Snow is like poison lava to them arabs.
So we bring them?
Hell no. Osama'll kill my family. Obama- hehe. See what I did there?
Clever.
He's a Muslim, you know.
Lovely.
I really don't know exactly how to reason with anyone with an irrational fear that someone will break out of one of our prisons and specifically target them. They are retarded. Unfortunately, many of "them" are currently running the country. And a certain number will never vote yea on anything having to do with Gitmo unless it is a bill to pay for 250 bullets.
Let's just say I'm a little disappointed with the Democratic Party as a whole as of late.
It's Wednesday and you know what that means. Oh, no, I guess you don't because I'm trying something new. I'm going to stick to it; and I mean it. Anybody want a peanut?
Yesterday on Twitter I started a new hashtag #rapevan in a tweet about limitations on the awful things credit card companies do to us. IM discussion with my friend Brent (he's got something to link to now!) brought up the spectre of an actual rape van and hijacking the hashtag. He provided me with an image.
All that just to say: Here's your weekly rape van.
Filthy? check
Rusting? check
Limited windows? check
Airbrushed mural? check
Airbrushed mural contains dragon? check
Bumper held on by wire coming from brake light well? check
Actually, as I have apparently found Plato's Form of a rape van, I don't know that there is any reason to continue posting mere facsimiles. Perhaps I have defeated myself in another regular feature.
Let me know. Would you like to see a weekly image of an mural van that makes you cringe? Any examples you would like to submit? How about best submission gets a custom Rape Van Hunter badge?
[UPDATE: "Rape Van" has been tastefully changed to "Van Mural"]
I spent some time today and made a lot of new friends.
And yes, I now need to take some time and update (and winnow) my Blogroll. Maybe I'll even enter everyone in that fancy widget that shows your last blog post too. Oh so hoity-toity. But I'll get to it, so quitcha bitchin'.
I just wanted to welcome you. Have a look around. Make some new friends yourself in my follow list. Most people enjoy the original photoshops. Have fun!
If you haven't read it, it's interesting enough. Calling out right-wing douchebags usually is. The reason I mention it is that is has consistently been the largest draw to my blog and even after a year still getting comments (many are mine, but I'm up to 89). Enjoy!
I believe tomorrow I shall inform you about what else seems to draw people here. It's quite interesting and involves elf porn.
I got an email today from Brave New Films, a great group known for bringing some of the evils of Walmart into the light for everyone to see. They sent me a link to the following video and a website to Stop Starbucks:
The shitstamp on the forehead of Starbucks, according to this video and its sources, is that Starbucks is engaging in union-busting activities. Okay, bad on them. That should stop.
But Brave New Films goes a few steps too far in demonizing Starbucks as something equivalent to Walmart. And they're not. And that's not fair if we're going to be claiming to stand upon principles based on all the facts.
How about the differences between Starbucks and Walmart?
Starbucks has always paid well over minimum wage and offers benefits to part-time workers as well as quick advancement to dedicated employees.
Walmart trims corners everywhere, refusing to pay anywhere close to a living wage, seldom offering benefits, has issues with equal pay and advancement for women.
Starbucks gets involved in local, community projects to improve the neighborhood in which they're located.
Walmart creates acres of parking lots, local traffic problems, and barely-scraping-by poor.
Starbucks has engaged the Free Trade program, making sure the coffee growers are getting a fair cut for the product they supply.
Walmart is known for strong-arming their suppliers into shifting their manufacturing to China, killing thousands of manufacturing jobs and exploiting millions of Chinese men, women, and children.
If we're going to complain about something - and something that by all counts needs to be exposed - then do it fairly and without the sensationalism. Otherwise we're filling our pleas with as much bullshit as the Right Wing anytime they raise an issue. And then who would believe our causes?
I'd like to sit down and have a nice talk with your about politics or religion or the world or spirituality or why our president is being a pussy about some photos, but I can't right now because my sister's in town for my wife's college graduation. She's bored, Mrs. Shambles is making dinner with a sour eye in my direction because of my extended work day, and there's just not enough time. Or not enough me time.
So I'll be back on Friday. Tomorrow. And we'll talk then.
This is Rep. Alan Grayson asking the Federal Reserve Inspector General about trillions of dollars of YOUR money and whether anyone's keeping track of where the money is and whether or not there are losses in the lending. Her answers are not encouraging.
Duuhh...ummm...I don't know. This is why we can't have anything nice. This is why, even if Obama's efforts are 100% genuine and could 100% fix the mess we're in, it won't. Everyone jumps up and screams FIRE and they bring out the money shooter and only months later do they say "Hmm. Is someone keeping track of this?" Of course because everyone assumes that someone's got the oversight thing handled, no one's got the oversight handled.
One day, in a futuristic, Planet of the Apes scenario, when we're pounding the beach in front of a decaying Statue of Liberty, maybe then we'll get it.
I just recently hit on this as a part of one post, but thought it needed a little more attention and therefore have created an account with icanhascheezburger.com and this image:
If you don't know about Michael Savage, you need to get out of the cave and listen to at least two shows at least until you have to vomit. If you don't know about Today's Special, I can give you this link and show you this clip of the intro:
(holy fucking box of shit, I haven't seen this in over 25 years and watching it was like an acid trip back to my parents' basement in '85)
But if you haven't seen it, the reference simply won't be as funny. If you have, then you may just have shit yourself.
Some folks are seriously dedicated to President Obama. In fact, here are two from Cincinnati:
These two are so dedicated that one of them ran into someone's house to steal a picture of him. So dedicated that the getaway driver would bring her 3-year-old son on the burglary trip with them. So dedicated that they are now in jail.
The weirdest thing is that they sought to abscond with a picture. This isn't a rare 19th century Daguerreotype. It's a picture that, if digital or scanned, could be recreated for less than $1. Images in our society are ubiquitous.
Friday night I bought a 12 of Miller Lite. The caps have now gone gold and are being touted as flavor savers or some shit. I think we all know it just means Miller Lite has gone caffeine-free.
I believe a leaf blower is a horrible affront to our environment, wasting gas or electricity to do something a little elbow grease and a rake can do.
(tell me you get this)
Also, I cannot afford a leaf blower.
I'm making meatloaf right now for my wife on Mother's day. I used a recipe that did not have measurements and I added too much mustard. I'm hoping it will be okayh. But it means that I've been spending the past hour, on Mother's Day, wondering if I cut the mustard enough.
If you're ever listening to someone spout Bible Hate about homosexuals, please remind them that Leviticus 18:22 says "Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination." but Leviticus 19:19 says "...neither shall a garment mingled of linen and woollen come upon thee" and ask them if they're wearing a blend.
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