Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Why is it that whenever I voice my opinion, the locals act as though I had blown up a busload of nuns with a missile launcher?

Hoffa old or Jesus old? Or maybe Adam old?

Flooding uncovers skeleton along Warm Fork River.

I note there's nothing in any report so far to suggest it was in a casket.

Our new chief of police described the skeleton as "very old." I'm wondering HOW old.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Here I call upon the vast and undoubtedly infallible medical knowledge of my readers.

Is a fasting blood sugar value of 84 mg/dl too low?

I can't seem to get a straight answer on this.

I even went to the pharmacist and asked, and she went into this big, long complicated thing including, among other things, how tall I am and never did answer the question.

Just a reminder.

The Freedom Tower is still going to be hideous-looking.

I haven't seen an idea put into motion with so little forethought since Mr. Hand married Steve Jobs and went with a hyphenated surname.

Surprise, surprise.

Harpy Hillary Rodham-Clinton's griping again.

She's the biggest nag since Mary Todd Lincoln.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

My life is pretty boring lately.

Not much to post.

Unless you want to hear about the dream I had where I was a contestant on a reality show against a bunch of children, and the challenge we were competing in was similar to the Grand Prize Game on the old Bozo Show, where you throw the balls in the buckets, only we were seated and the buckets were on a table in front of us. The farthest bucket was barely further away than the length of my arms.

Needless to say, I won.

Hell no, I wasn't gonna let the kids win! There were half a million dollars at stake!

Big 3 American Beer Search Update.

It's worse than I thought.

Rolling Rock is now owned by A-B, which will soon be owned by the Belgians.

Schlitz ond Old Milwaukee were bought out by Pabst, which was bought out by Miller, that South-African beer.

Which means my poll is pretty much useless, so I'm removing it.

There are some American beers out there, but none of them seem to be nationwide.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Tangential Diversion.

Why is it "Poll Respondents" but "First Responders"?

Finally, a useful poll.

72% of poll respondents say Bud can no longer call itself "The Great American Lager" if InBev succeeds in their buyout.

Remember when Bud derided Miller (and now, I guess Coors) as "That South-African Beer"?

With the Big Three of American Beermaking now in foreign hands, which three beers should replace them?

Obviously, I'm gonna vote for Shiner Bock, even though it's more regional than national. And I guess Samuel Adams would have to be in there too. But I'm having a hard time coming up with a third.

I know, let's do a poll. If you don't see your suggestion listed in the poll, leave list it here.

Hey, Bob. I gotta suggestion.

Pick Sam Nunn as your running mate. C'mon. It'll be cool.

Barr/Nunn '08.

I'd still rather vote for Paul/Gigot, but that doesn't seem like it's gonna happen.

But I thought NASCAR was a conservative sport.

Let me get this straight.

Bob Barr can't campaign at a NASCAR event.

But Barack Obama can sponsor a car there.

I can hear the People Against Everything salivating already.

This will give them a reason to begin work on banning baseballs.

Or requiring that MLB move to those squishy, oversized softballs the retarded kids use.

Tony Snow, R.I.P.

Apparently, schools in The Jop need to concentrate on language and grammar skills.

At least, I assume Mike Pound went to school in The Jop. I could be wrong.

[George Will] likes to make obscure (at least to me) historical and mythical analogies. At least I think they’re analogies, they could be metaphors. Or similes. I can never remember which is which.

If it says my love is a red, red rose, it's a metaphor. If it says my love is LIKE (or as) a red, red rose, it's a simile.

And if you're confusing either one with an analogy, seek psychiatric help immediately.

*MY* Two Cents Worth, dammit!!!

Upon returning from my morning cig run yesterday, I discovered The Man was trying to maize-hole me on the water bill again by manipulating the meter readings. The little black City Utilities pickup was parked by the intersection just below me.

It had only been 22 days since the last time they read it. Last month they read it late; this month it was early. It figures. And dollars to doughnuts they'll read it late again NEXT month.

I had rationed my water usage to achieve the 20-unit minimum for which I would be billed at 31 days. Yesterday, I reached 14.3. That meant I would be billed for 5.7 units I didn’t use, which I’m pretty sure is 570 gallons.

I was pretty sure the meter maid hadn’t gotten to my house yet.

So I did four loads of laundry, washed out the bathtub, mopped the bathroom floor, watered the ‘maters, filled the watering can for the next day, and refilled all the bottles of sugar-free Kool(ish)-Aid in the fridge.

I did so much laundry, I had to dig out the pink Pantycopter to fit it all on the clotheslines.

I managed to use up another 1.8 units of water.

When I later ran the numbers, the electricity I used doing the laundry cost two cents less than those 1.8 units of water would have cost if I had waited to do the activities after the meter was read.

That was an awful lot of work for those two cents, but it’s two of MY cents that I kept the city government from getting.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Apparently, the Aussie constitution includes a right not to get annoyed.

...a dozen demonstrators poked fun Wednesday at a new Australian law
meant to protect participants of next week's World Youth Day from being annoyed
by opponents.

They'll be having one of those Intervention things for ME one of these days.

Saturday night I decided to quit cigs and nearly quit caffeine.

Sunday afternoon, I had to revise the decision.

Not too bright of me to try to quit them both at the same time. It caused insatiable appetite and a giant, invisible C-clamp to steadily tighten at it's contact points on the sides of my forehead.

So I gave up on quitting the caffeine and decided to limit my smoking to a pack a day.

Monday, I ran out of cigarettes around noon.

I made it past what I thought was the worst part that afternoon, the fatigue and sweaty forehead, by taking a nap.

Around six, I was feeling almost human again.

At seven, I watched an episode of A&E network's INTERVENTION.

The guy smoked crack using a rolled-up piece of Diet Coke carton.

All I could think about was how much it looked like a cigarette. It was like some sort of Lung Cancer Porn; I could not take my eyes off the scene.

When the scene was over, I had to make a trip to the convenience store.

Two packs of Camel Menthols.

I guess there ARE atheists in foxholes after all...

Collectivists on (Well, okay, *IN*) PARADE

Here is the latest evidence that we have but one major party in America, and it is the Borg Party.

This weekend, PARADE “magazine” asked John McCain and Barack Obama “What is Patriotism?”

Here is the title and an excerpt of each of their responses. Without peeking, see if you can guess which nominee gave which response.

Nominee #1, What is Patriotism?


That is the community we strive to build -- one in which we recognize we share
common hopes and dreams, one in which we continue to insist that there is
nothing we cannot do when we put our minds to it, and one in which we see
ourselves as part of a larger story, our own fates wrapped up in the fates of
all who share allegiance to America’s singular creed.

Nominee #2, What is Patriotism?


We are blessed to be Americans, and blessed that so many of us have so often
believed in a cause far greater than self-interest, far greater than ourselves .
. . [T]he gift we can give back to our country is a patriotism that requires us
to be good citizens in public office or in the community spaces where government
is absent.

So, which response comes from the nominee of which wing of the Borg Party?

Barack Obama and McCain.jpg -

[TANGENT: Here's a quote from Obama's answer -- "I remember listening to my mother reading me the first lines of the Declaration of Independence and explaining how its ideas applied to every American . . . We can say and write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door."

Apparently, Mama Obama never spent any time in Thayer, MO. ]

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Hugo and The Bunny Man.

For reasons discussed elsewhere, I spend no money in Thayer unless I absolutely HAVE to.

So, when I found myself in Salem last week with time to kill, I decided to pick up some things I have been doing without. I went to a little discount grocery store south of town and bought, among other things, frog legs.

On the way back, I decided to stop at a little convenience store that has been there forever and buy some gas.

When I was running the streets of Salem, it was a Sinclair station. I think the last time I checked, it was a Phillips 66.

I never thought to look for what brand it was, until I was pulling out.


But in my defense, Hugo Chavez has never showed up in my front yard and told me I am not ALLOWED to have an opinion.

Had I seen the Citgo sign, I *STILL* would not have waited until I got back to Thayer to fill up ($20), but I wouldn't have bought Citgo, either. I would have bought my gas at the Shell station in Salem.

I've hidden my Man Card so they can't take it away from me.

I blew out the rear speakers in my titty-pink station wagon.

What was I listening to, you ask? Motorhead? Judas Priest?


Speaking of Maxipads . . .

I’m sitting in my car Tuesday, waiting for the library to open. As usual, they’re late. For the umpteenth time, I wonder when people just stopped caring about doing things the right way, like showing up on time.

Lying on the sidewalk, about halfway between me and the door, is what appears to be a white piece of paper of some sort.

Finally, one of the librarians arrives.

I get out of my car and start toward the library.

When I get to the object on the sidewalk, I realize it is not a piece of paper, but a lightweight feminine hygiene product. Gross. At least it doesn’t appear to be used.

I go on about my business and enter the library for my blogging fix.

About ninety minutes later, I come back out.

And notice two more of the things between the original and my car, over by the edge of the grass.

I get a mental picture of some woman having a VERY bad day, trying to chase down her panty shields in a windstorm.

For a moment, it’s an amusing image.

But then I wonder why she had an open box of panty shields OUTSIDE.

Now I’m gonna get her finger germs on my butt.

In my quest to reduce my consumption of oil-based products, I buy loose rolls of toilet paper for a quarter apiece at a local grocery salvage store rather than buy them shrinkwrapped in plastic in bundles of multiples of four or six at the grocery store.

I just have to be careful not to buy rolls that are half-gone or have water damage.

At least, I HOPE it’s water damage.

Yeah, yeah; I know that at some point in their past they were almost certainly shrinkwrapped just like that. But somewhere along the line, someone decided that rather than throw out the toilet paper just because the package was damaged, they’d make the responsible decision to recover the toilet paper.

And if I DID buy the Toilet Paper Of The Masses, it would be TWO plastic shrinkwraps bought and thrown away (the one thrown away due to damage, plus the one I would be buying) instead of just one.

I tell you all this to set up the following.

So I’m standing in line at the register at Ken’s Salvage Grocery. I’ve filled my cart with ten Cups Of Noodles ($.10 each), ten of those little plastic bottles of Kool(ish)-Aid that kids drink ($.10 each), a package of very slightly out-of-date Cherry Cordial Hershey’s Kisses ($1), a used paperback for my mom ($1), a couple of 16-oz. packages of turkey coldcuts to make sammiches with ($1.99 each), a box of individual packets of True Lemon ($2), a slightly dented tube of Pringles ($.75), and four rolls of the aforementioned toilet paper, which are resting on top.

One of the rolls has a festive, simple little floral design on it.

The woman in line in front of me turns around, focuses on this roll of toilet paper, and . . . get this . . . CARESSES IT WITH HER FINGER!!!

“Oooh, I haven’t seen that kind in a long, long time!” she remarks, “I used to buy it ALL THE TIME, and I really LOVED it!”

Is it too much to ask for a man and his asswipe to remain unmolested in the checkout aisle?

I GET that other people have rubbed their grubby little hands on it while it sat in the bin on the shelf, but there’s something about it being in my cart, being fingered right in front of me, that rubs me the wrong way.

Everyone uses toilet paper; we all know that. But when you see toilet paper in someone’s grocery cart, you’re supposed to pretend like you don’t see it. You’re not supposed to comment on it, and you’re SURE AS HELL not supposed to caress it with your finger!

It’s one of those Unspoken Rules That Holds Society Together, just like not buying your condoms at a store where the people know you, or if you’re a cashier, not broadcasting a request for a price-check on aisle three for the Super-Absorbent Maxipads over the store’s loudspeaker. It just ain’t right.

So if I run into her in the regular grocery store and see that she has some of those Super-Absorbent Maxipads in her cart, I’m gonna make sure everyone in the store knows about it.

“Are those the SUPER ABSORBENT MAXIPADS, ma’am? My washing machine overflowed and flooded the laundry room, and maybe if I got some of the SUPER ABSORBENT MAXIPADS like yours, I could use them to soak up the water!”

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Speaking of terrifying . . .

. . . I don't remember the 80's being this creepy:

I'm gonna have nightmares for a month!

Okay, it's official.

McDonald's is now officially the most terrifying place on earth.

Also check out When Ronald Met Calvin Klein's Obsession here and here.

Who says one vote doesn't make any difference?

Sure, it's one vote of a Supreme Court Justice, but we were one flip-flop away from the right to keep and bear arms being a collective, not an individual, right.

And if the right spelled out in the 2nd Amendment became collective, not individual, how long would it take for the rights spelled out in the OTHER amendments to be interpreted the same way.

Imagine a country where you cannot have individual religious beliefs; you can only belong to an organized church.

Imagine a country where you cannot speak unless you gather up a bunch of people who agree with you.

Imagine a country where you cannot write your Congressman without a bunch of cosigners.

Imagine a country where you cannot blog unless you belong to the People's Unified Bloggers Association.

Imagine a country where you can't challenge an arrest unless you can find a bunch of people who question the officer's probable cause standard.

We were one vote away from that.

But isn't "the extreme" . . .

... what MAKES an ideological interpretation an ideological interpretation and not a pragmatic interpretation?

Here's today's Idiot Jerkoff Quote of the Day:

Like a college student who gets his first taste of Ayn Rand and then starts
interpreting everything—his government, his professors, his girlfriend—from an
objectivist viewpoint, they’ve taken an ideological interpretation to the


Am I the only one that notices that Wall-E looks an awful lot like a cuter, squishified knock-off of Johnny Five?

[Update: No, I'm not.]

"Drilling in Anwar" . . .

. . . takes on a whole new meaning.

Even if we're talking Two-Buck Chuck here . . .

. . . isn't wine still more expensive per gallon than gas?



A few days ago, I took my trusty screwdriver to the basement and turned the thermostat on the water heater from halfway between "Hot" and "Very Hot" to just "Hot."

It seems to be saving me about 2 kwh a day.

One of these days I'm gonna grow a sack and flip the breaker, turning it off altogether, only turning it on about an hour before a shower or washing dishes.

'Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear.

These may be the worst four words ever strung together:

"Super-Christian cheerleader Grace."

Does my talking somehow preclude you from going?

This is wrong on so many levels.