JVLY XXXI, MMIX

Bye bye July

You gave us
Gates and Crowley
Kash For Klunkers
Beer Summit
A perfect Buehrle
Bailin' Palin
Healthcare Shmealthcare
And 31 Flavors of Blog Posts.
You've exhausted my body and fiddled with my mind.
Step aside, long sweaty month, you damp fleshy armpit of summer.
I'm done with you.
Once you were Quintilis, I looked it up.
Cancer to Leo.
Rubies and Larkspur.
I no longer look back on you,
I look forward,
August is National Goat Cheese Month,
and I can hardly wait.

Travel Alert

ISP-PHL-ILM
wait... no...
ISP-PHL
PHL-GSO

With bad weather (tornadoes, hail, strong storms) on the east coast and hours of delays springing up, I got to the Islip airport early (let's say three-ish) to change my 6:15pm departure to 4:15pm in hopes that I could still make my 8:55 connection. When I arrived, the monitors showed a boarding time of 7:21pm for the 4:15pm flight and 7:55pm for the 6:15pm flight. I went through with the switch. And the switch was free. And I was glad. I was told not to go far, because the plane might board at any time prior to the posted... time. In the course of the next five hours, the 6:15pm flight got canceled, and the 4:15pm arrived only about an hour late, but ground delays meant nothing would take off before 8:20pm. Many people were scrambling to get information form the gate agent as she was trying to sort out who actually needed assistance and what the statuses of everyone's connecting flights were. She prioritized nicely and after getting the line clear of people demanding to know things, got everything squared away. The plane eventually took to the air and got into PHL. I had scheduled with the gate agent to take a flight the next morning (7:30am - 8:55am)to Greensboro and figure out a car from there onto Wilmington. Any option back to Wilmington would have gotten me in at 10:38pm the next day. So I was stuck in Philadelphia for the night. With the aid of my trusty blackberry I looked up some hotels near the airport and called about availability. All full. I went and had a pretzel with cheese to scope out where I would try to sleep in the airport. I headed back to my gate to stake out a place. I stared out the window and thought: "I don't want to look out this window for the next seven hours." Motivated by the ill prospect of airport sleeping/non-sleeping, I put the internet back to work for me. I found a Quality Inn with shuttle service at a good price and made it happen. When I got to the hotel, it seemed like a good idea to get caught up from the day of work and get a leg up on the next day. Room was nice, all things considered. I ordered some things that needed ordering and got my email squared away. To sleep at 2:00. Up at 5:20. Mind you, I got three hours and twenty minutes more sleep than I expected to get... so I was pleased. I showered, put on dirty clothes and checked out the Quality Inn continental breakfast staged in the attached tex-mex cocina/restaurante. Not a pretty sight. I surveyed the options and got a half glass of orange juice which I was unable to finish. On to the airport. Quick security check and I'm in. Plane is on time. We board. I'm in zone 1 with a front row seat following my previous day's adventure. Sweet. Off we go. Get to the runway, and... we've got some instrument/mechanical problems - two hours to fix, but they were looking for a replacement jet for us. Before we're back to our gate, they announce that they've got a plane for us that should arrive in twenty minutes or so. We get off the plane, grab our gate checked things again and await new gate info. After ten minutes a new plan is in motion. New gate, same terminal. Board at 9:00, get into to Greensboro at 10:20, only an hour and a half off schedule. From there, everything goes as planned.
Why did I make you read all of that? Stay with me...
USAirways Express did all right by me. And from what I saw, did what they could for everyone there, yesterday and today.

On my flight last night from Islip to Philadelphia, the guy next to me said "That's it, I'm never flying this airline again." This guy (clean cut Floridiot) ... ... I did not like this guy.

On my morning flight from Philadelphia to Greensboro, the guy next to me said "So we just get off this plane and get on another one a few gates down, that's sounds good." This guy (long haired headbanger: Slayer T-shirt, tattoos, the whole nine)... ... I liked this guy.

I think if you switched the guys out, they'd have the same attitude in either situation. And that brings to mind a line that my grandfather told my father: "Nothing is so bad that complaining can't make it worse."

So, my flying tip of the the day:
1. Shut up, wait your turn, let the people do their jobs and - I can not stress this enough - shut up.

(My mom prefers "be quiet" to "shut up," but tough times call for tough talk)

da plane da plane

My plane is delayed as most planes on the east coast are right now. So I consider how much to put into this post, for it will surely be edited and added to... plus I can't focus right now. 80% Chance of intermittent ramblings.

What I saw last night.

A batter for the Long Island Ducks got hit in the head by a pitch. It hit his helmet and he immediately went down. They brought in the stretcher and taped his head to the board and wheeled him away. I think he was conscious, but he wasn't moving much. It's hard to focus on any other parts of the game when you get everything broken up by a half-hour EMT break. There was some good defense, a couple home runs...

I think my plane is here... I go now, maybe post more later.

My plane was here, but it has to sit for an hour. I have plenty of time for an A&W crispy chicken combo at the swanky end of the airport. I'm sitting in one of the luxury chairs at an empty Southwest gate, the kind with the power pillar, so I've got a lot of things plugged in, a lot of things charging... if I had bluetooth in my ear the look would be complete.

I've started reading Absurdistan. It's written by somebody. I think I'll enjoy it.

Back to last night. I raced back to the hotel after the game, compelled to watch David Letterman. I watched so that I could relate to a certain blog, but Dave's material is so stale I had to look away. I'm just a man... a man who likes to laugh, and it just wasn't happening. I think his delivery is fine and he and Paul have their moments, but his material is garbage. Mine is garbage at times, too, but I don't have a team of paid professional comedy writers to come up with jokes night after night. I really don't know why anyone would watch the Late Show with any regularity. Leno was no great shakes either. It's not my type of humor, so take my critique for what it's worth. But mark it down, David Letterman doesn't make me laugh.

Back to my gate for to board da plane.

Blog Internacionale

The young counter-guy at the Wendy's here in Riverhead, NY is quite personable. He is on the ball and connects with each of his customers. After I ordered my breakfast-lunch-2pm meal, he made a comment about how I must be enjoying the heat. I said - I am. He said - I wish I could roll down my car windows. I knowingly said - oh, because it's been raining everyday. He replied - Yeah, that too. Naive boy strikes again. So, the more appropriate guess is that he's got a nice stereo system which he doesn't want stolen. Yeah, that too. When you're driving a rental car, such concerns are not of any concern, which is nice. And when you don't live in an urban setting (not that Riverhead really fits that category) such concerns are far from ones mind. Now... let the record show, that in talking to some locals yesterday, it has been uncharacteristically rainy this year. So, as lame as my rain comment was, it was not without some basis in local climatic reality. Speaking of lame... that was lame, too. I hope that Wendy's guy doesn't read my blog. I'm cool, right?

In other Blog reader news... ... ... I got my first comment from a true outside reader. Laura from Spain read my review of Monster Ark and appreciated that I wrote it. I don't think she picked up on all my snotty jabs at the movie, but at least I didn't offend her. I joke about it... but I did watch the first hour, then, unable to sleep, I watched the end of it. So bad it's good is still, ultimately, good. Let that be a lesson to me.

I finished Roddy Doyle's Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. A fine read. Perhaps even a good summertime family nostalgia childhood slice of life kind of book.

I just found that I can highlight text then drag it to where I want it. No need to cut, then paste, just highlight and drag. Take note, bloggers, this is a great step forward for editing. I just tried it in WORD 2007 and it works there also. SHORTCUT! SHORTCUT! SHORTCUT! Maybe you already knew this, but I still get the advantages and benefits of my new found technique and the moment of discovery. Huzzah! This will save me countless seconds over the course of my remaining years.

Now I will take a victory nap.

Post Date

A little fudging here to protect the streak, but I think we should all give me a little leeway. I'm still well within the window, as I see it.

Changing your USAir flight from Wednesday to Tuesday will run you $150 plus $187 price difference. I did the math... that comes out to $337 dollars. United States Dollars. Three Benjamins, One Jackson, One Hamilton, One Lincoln and one Jefferson. Why not use the Jefferson? Interesting how out of the five faces on my choice of bills, two were not presidents. Is that interesting? Well, I thought it worth noting and it sets the stage for the thought-provoking/mind-numbing text to follow, so my advice is this: embrace it.Think any non-presidents of today will be pictured on any currency two-hundred years from now? I don't. Think any presidents of today will be used? I don't. We're far too nostalgic for that. I think coins should be used for some more widespread face time. Eisenhower? Really. He gets a the dollar coin and FDR is the exclusive face of the dime? And what's the deal with Lincoln... (insert stand-up voice of Jerry Seinfeld) he gets a coin and a bill? Washington as well. Let's get new faces on our pennies and other coins every year. Slap every president's visage that hasn't been on any money to date onto the lucky side of the penny. William Henry Harrison... congratulations, you're a penny. Taft. Polk. People are really into Polk these days. Make that man a dime. America demands change for our change. Well, America doesn't so much demand it, more like, an American has gently suggested the possibility. It's an issue about which I care very little. Won't you join my cause?

Sleepy. Long days and short nights. Sleepy.

Hampton Bays and Hampton Nights

Hot planes are less comfortable than cool planes. Two of my last four flights have had very little air coming out of the overhead nozzles, and what was coming out had little cooling effect. As one whose only fear of flying centers around the possibility of vomiting in public for a very captive audience, airflow and ambient conditions are critically important to me. Hot & steamy = warm & queasy. In fairly typical human fashion, even when everyone knows that there is little air to be had, we each keep fiddling with the airflow... hoping it will somehow open wider and blast us with an arctic wind. Doesn’t happen. Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing. Land. Get off plane.

PHL-ISP

It’s OK, she doesn’t bite, but I do.
What’s her name?
Sweetheart.
And yours?
Denise. And yours?
Doug.

And that pretty much covers it. I assume it was a dog in the little carry-on stowed under the seat next to me. It didn’t make a sound the whole flight. Not a pant. Not a moan. It was fuzzy, whether it was a dog or not is up for debate.

Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing.

From hot planes...

Long Island was covered in a moderate fog this afternoon. Mid 80’s and huuuuumid. I’m at my grandmother’s house to oversee the ol’ pack and move. The inside of the house is also in the mid 80’s and huuuuumid. The “grandma’s house smell” is pervasive... I feel as if I’ve climbed into a giant old shoebox filled with old Polaroid pictures that’s been in a basement, a basement that floods every spring with four inches of water when the winter snow melts, the same basement with two small windows that haven’t been opened in 34 years, the basement where cool means cool and damp and where warm means... where warm means... stuffy. You know grandma’s house, the place where even the ice has a distinctive smell - not what you look for in an ice-cube - but for cooled liquid refreshment on this night, I’ve loaded up my glass with the stuff. Cheers.

Two wall units are doing their damnedest to take the edge off. Westinghouse Mobilaire 5000 (turned up to 11! No joke) and Whirlpool AHJ-PO6-2 (turned up to 12... somehow not as exciting as 11) are making some progress after three hours. Some corners of the house will not feel their cooling powers, but I’ll avoid those places, for I am a delicate flower and may wilt from the oppressive heat and stifling humiditay. And you wouldn't want that.

Funky Cold Medina

Just thoughts.

We rail against Ohio for its Ohio-ness. You know, the overwhelming sort of midwest, sort of rust-belt, sort of sort-of-ness that colors everything. There is no interesting regional cuisine of which to speak. Amish fare does not count. I've never seen the Food Network or Travel Channel do any specials on "Butter Fairs" or "Bread Festivals." "You have to go to Ohio for ______." What? Cedar Point? Rock and Roll/Football Halls of fame? It's not that there's nothing of interest, it's that there's nothing that interesting.

We drive by the local Chili's/Flinger's/Chachki's/TGIMcSomething's on our way to find some food. Here, it is Rockne's. "Hey, let's hit Rockne's after work for some tall cold Labatt's. They've got an appetizer special from 4:30 to 6:30 on Tuesdays." Ohio (pronounced with the melodic and graceful midwest twang). It could be Indiana, too, so don't take it too personally.

Medina is a nice little town. Close enough to be a bedroom community for Cleveland, but somehow, not really a bedroom community for Cleveland. There is a pretty square downtown with a bandstand and a surprisingly robust merchant community. Last night there was a concert being played in the bandstand and there were loads of people there to take it all in. Charming. I respect people that do their thing out here. Quietly raising their families and doing their jobs. Parades and County Fairs. Farmers' Markets. Rockwellian.

Just thoughts.

CLT

Charlotte Douglas Airport

Flight 2658 to Cleveland, Gate E26 Departure Time: 2:45pm

Flight 2658 to Cleveland, Gate E28 Departure Time: 4:02pm

Flight 2658 to Cleveland, Gate E28 Departure Time: 5:12pm

Flight 2658 to Cleveland, Gate E28 Departure Time: 5:36pm

Flight 2658 to Cleveland, Gate E28 Departure Time: 5:56pm

Now, mind you, the plane is here on the ground at 2:00pm, but I am happy for them to do their repairs (whatever they may be) in the time frame they see fit. We'd like to be in Cleveland by 2:00pm tomorrow. Before then would be better, but I figure we really have 24 hours to play with (with which to play). I like my planes with wings attached, functional engines and landing gear that works... so, whatever it takes.

+ CLT has free wireless, which is nice. Wireless Internet, to further ease my blog entrification.

+ CLT has better a/c and airflow than our flight from ILM to CLT. I'd rather be sitting in an airport not moving than sitting in a plane not moving.

+ We ate a big lunch here, Buffalo Chicken Salad, and this writer cleaned his plate (a shock to anyone familiar with his feeding habits, especially while enroute to anywhere).

+ CLT has comfortable seating with plenty of space for the slightly delayed, not like some airports where you struggle to find a few square feet of floorspace to claim as your own.

- We had hoped to eat dinner and see a baseball game in Akron. Not bloody likely. On the upside we didn't buy tickets in advance, for dinner or the game. On the downside, we don't get to see a baseball game, but I mentioned that already.

This is what I look like while waiting in an airport and working on a blog entry, circa 2009.You'll notice a slightly glazed over and dazed over look. I attribute this to my generally glazed over and dazed over feeling. Plus, I don't want to appear too friendly. Mission accomplished.

Veggie-tales

Beans.
They wither on the vine
those that remain

Carrots.
They grow below
slow they grow
green leafy top

Yellow Squashes.
Robust in leaf and flower
dos pequenos amarillos!

Zucchinis.
We hardly knew ye
we hardly grew thee

Cucumbers.
The first victims of the ant offensive so many weeks ago

Lettuces.
Go Green

Tomatoes.
Six leaves populate four inches of feeble stalk

Grasses.
Unwanted and prevalent
I pull you out
and still you grow

Dog Fennel.
You are not a carrot
though I have been fooled
more than once

Dirt.
Thank you for your earthiness.

Water.
Your wetness
two H's for every O
from cloud and hose

Sunlight.
You travel the farthest distance
92 million miles, give or take
your trip takes you
8 minutes, give or take
Vitamin D, you give I take
Goodnight, Sunlight.

Monster Ark

What exactly makes Monster Ark so very compelling? I'll tell you.

1. Renee O'Connor as Ava - You may or may not remember her as Gabrielle from Xena: Warrior Princess and all that went with that show. For about an hour I watched and couldn't place her. So I had to keep watching. Xena never showed up.

2. Tim DeKay as Nicholas - You may or may not remember him from Seinfeld as Kevin, from the bizarro episode where he was the anti-Jerry, and also had the vasectomy for Elaine. He is another familiar face that made me stay tuned. Nicholas and Ava are divorced, but she is so skilled as an anthropologist that he is compelled to take some lost ancient texts he discovers to her for translation. The scrolls are thought to be in a big urn , which she opens using a chisel and a hammer (as any right-minded anthropologist/archaeologist would do). Within twenty-four hours, it is cleared through the military that he and his team will be going to Iraq to follow the mystery wherever it leads them.

3. Tommy 'Tiny' Lister as Gentry the tough military dude - You may not know him from anything in particular, but he gives this film the force and gravitas it so richly deserves. Top quotes - "Here, kitty-kitty" while trying to lure the monster into the open and "Welcome to paradise" after shooting the last surviving insurgent following a monster attack and fire fight. Both are classic lines I'll be sure to reference ad nauseum (at least to myself).

4. Two young students - A dorky fat guy and an attractive young co-ed are in on the deal. Very few sci-fi movies would be complete without some teen-age blood. And yes, the boy gets sliced up a little bit. The girl provides some sexual tension as Ava thinks Nicholas has something going on with her. Nicholas and Ava got a divorce when he was falsely accused of having an affair with a student several years back. Ava could never let it go. She has no faith in him, and she says of him: "You have no faith in anything... anything but science." Yes!

5. Current events - Part of the story takes place in present day Iraq (hence the insurgents and the military presence). A strange force is emanating from somewhere in the desert which is of interest to the military for some reason. Having the military around introduces guns into the mix, and to emphasize the strength and unkillability of the monster, the modern weaponry of today's military is unable to stop it... but don't think they won't keep shooting at it, because they will, do and did.

6. Conspiracy - A vast brotherhood has been around for ages to maintain the secrecy of the sacred parchment - texts which contain clues to the location of the lost ark that Noah built to hold a monster (Monster Ark!) back when he was building the Ark. Or something to that effect. The brotherhood has a slight a gypsy look to it, they dress in black and answer to a man in a limousine. So, the idiotic Americans find the ark, open it and let out this monster. The monster hops around slicing up soldiers and insurgents. I forget what it's trying to do, but the only way to stop it is to find the tomb of Noah and get his staff/walking stick to zap the monster back under human control.

7. Long story short... Nicholas turns out to be the only one with faith (and remember, Ava said he had none! Remember that?) in the quest and is thus deemed to be the chosen one. He wields the staff and all the powers of the heavens are channeled through him as he gets the monster back in its ark/cage and is put away for a long, long time. Gentry (the big bad military man) tells Nicholas at the end that he should "get back together with that ex-wife of yours... she's into you, man."

Guy loses girl, guy gets no respect from military guy, guy releases monster, guy captures monster, guy gets girl, guy gets respect from military guy, guy finds himself and guy finds God. Other pluses: on from midnight to two a.m., no named characters die, special effects are perfect (perfect), implausible story (even for a fantasy) from start to finish, young kid drives van to the airport because Nicholas is a bad driver (apparently some sort of inside joke) and "I won't think any less of you if any of you back out now" said on more than one occasion.

"Add it all up and Monster Ark is a monster hit!"
-Gene Siskel

Blogless

Clock is ticking so I think I'll resort to the picture post. A bit of a reprise from an earlier pair of pics in my Summer Arts Series. This limited edition print is available for an unlimited time.Shirt Hat ____ 2009
So.... I still have to write the much anticipated and all important SciFi movie feature review. Which, now that I've built it up in two posts, had better be pretty good. Or at least happen. But not tonight.

I'm spent. Ciao!

PROGRAMMING ALERT! Quality content is scheduled to return Wednesday, July 22nd.

Disclaimer: By "quality" we may mean "quantity"

Disclaimer: By "Wednesday" we may mean "Thursday"

Disclaimer: By "return" we may be assuming that so-called "quality content" previously existed

Disclaimer: We reserve the right to make false claims in the absence of any "Disclaimer" with no rights or responsibilities hitherto, henceforth and misbegotten otherwise stated, whatever that means.

Now sleep, beautiful sleep. Sandman, enter stage left. Dougman, sleeps.

Sleep 5 Work 9 Drive 6

World and road weary, I blog on.

I downloaded Harry Shearer's podcast for entertainment while driving. I suggest you don't. Download, that is. Then listen to it. I respect his work on the Simpson's and his pod work during "Rock-n-Roll Creation" in Spinal Tap was the defining moment of our generation.... but his podcast, his podcast is to be missed. He discusses some topics of the day and brings to light some occasional good points, but it falls horribly flat. How flat is it? Really flat. I listened for too long. I particularly suggest you don't listen to his spoof on the Sotomayor hearings. Conceptually - ok, execution and laffability - not ok. It's the kind of spoof over which NPR would go absolutely nuts. You know what I mean.

I'd like to petition whomever I should petition to allow sentences to end in prepositions. Can you guess which sentence in the previous paragraph made me feel this way? Yes you can.

The Weather Channel, since there is nothing happening in the Atlantic tropical-storm-wise, decided to discuss what was happening in the Atlantic last year at this time. Sort of the Weather Channel's version of celebrating the anniversary of the moon walk, except a lot less interesting.

Best song with a reference to the 1st man walking on the moon - "Where was I" by Paul Thorn. Live solo acoustic version is preferred.

sleeeeeeeep.

L'hotel

Follow me here:

1. If I look only mostly disgusting in a hotel bathroom mirror, THEN
2. I must look only marginally offensive under normal lighting, THEN
3. In dimly lit situations I must look somewhat ok, THEN
4. In the dark I must look pretty good, if not amazingly good, RIGHT?

Right.

You can judge a hotel room by the height of its bathroom ceiling. If you can't touch it while standing normally, you're in good shape. With each botched renovation in the crappier hotels, it seems like they just keep dropping and dropping the ceiling. We don't want to know what each layer of ceiling is hiding. If the ceiling height is 8' or more, I guarantee the TV works, the AC will keep you cool, the toilet flushes with the overwhelming force and the water gets hot and stays hot. The occasional boutique hotel might be an exception, my research is incomplete in this area.

The same height standard goes for the showerhead. They could do away with the star classifications and just list showerhead heights... much more reflective of overall hotel quality. I defy anyone to come up with any reasonable objections.

Unrelated:

- I like playing guitar solos.
- I generally don't like listening to them.
- I don't know if I would enjoy hearing me play one because I can't quite separate my playing self from my listening self.
- Listening to Lucinda Williams is better than watching Lucinda Williams for at least two reasons. 1. She is looking at the lyrics while performing on Austin City Limits. 2. Her stage antics look like she is weightlifting/doing curls and possibly dancing to a different song than the one she is performing.

Coming this week!
A review of a SciFi (SyFy) movie I couldn't stop watching because it was so good for so many reasons.

I'm posting!

Under the wire. 42 straight days in the blog-a-day commitment. I'm on the road, and will be so on and off for the next two weeks, so keeping the streak alive will be a little more challenging than usual. I hope for some new material to pop up, and maybe you do too. You know that strange go-nowhere fiction we all enjoyed yesterday? That's what happens when I run out of things to write. May the open road recharge my noggin. King of the Road. Big Daddy, comin' through.

What I forgot to do before I left:
1. Eat the last blueberry yogurt
2. Kill the ants destroying the bean plants

Exciting? Yes, it really is that exciting.

Why these things are important:
1. Yogurt is good for a limited time
2. There is only one healthy bean left, the ants must go

I'm drained... must find... something of value... to give... you.

Here are some more pictures of some goobers, featuring Brown Dog and Black Dog.
I'm going to bed, you should to, no matter what time you're reading this. You need more rest. And have yourself a nice nutritious meal. It's very important.

Why did I write this?

Flaherty was new to the squad, fresh out of training camp. He was like an unripe grape on a branch full of ripe grapes, like an unripe tomato on a plant full of ripe tomatoes, he was like any sort of fruit not yet to the harvesting stage while other fruits or people were at that stage, ripe and mature. How he wound up in with this rag-tag group of seasoned cops he'd never know. Although, that was really just a figure of speech, he knew he was specifically assigned to this precinct based on his test scores and profile. Good ol' Flaherty.

The Chief was a squat man who awkwardly carried around about 80 extra pounds. His thick black hair was a mess and had the look of a cabbage gone wrong, a hairy cabbage gone terribly wrong. His ill-fitting clothes completed his awful appearance. He looked like a dog who was dressed in people clothes, except, he was people. Flaherty was told to avoid any trouble with him as he had a nasty temper. Little did Flaherty know then that he and the Chief would be paired up in the most unlikely scenario in just a few short hours.

It was before eight in the morning on a cool September morning. The excitement and intrigue would happen at lunch time, out on the street, and would involve a hot dog vendor, a middle distance runner, a tall Hasidic Jew, Flaherty and the Chief. Did I mention it was morning?

The first couple hours at the station were spent filling out paperwork, piles and piles of it. Sign here, initial this, accept this, refuse that, piles and piles of it. When he got his gun he thought the worst was over. Then more paperwork, piles and piles of it. It went on for ages. He needed a donut, badly. Donuts gave him the sugar high he needed to make it through the morning slog. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't a cop thing, it was a Flaherty thing.

Flaherty really liked donuts.


Flaherty

Headlines from Reputable News Outlets

At the risk of going Jay Leno on you, these are for your review:

Will Jackson’s Legacy be exploited?
-------
Michael Jackson's... exploited...ummmm.... yes.

It's OK for new surgeon general to be fat
-------
Yes, yes, but is it ok for ME to be fat?

Puppy love blooms on dog dating Web sites
-------
Woof.

Facebook has serious privacy gaps, Canada says
-------
Canada needs to mind Canada's own business.

Commentary: Gay is not the new black
-------
I thought blue was the new black. No, plaid. I'm uncomfortable discussing this.

Gay penguins split after 1 goes straight
-------
That is a relationship killer, penguin or not.

The Seavers: Now and Then
-------
Enjoy.


10 Years Already Since JFK Jr. Died
-------
Uhhhh.

Chinese-Born Man Guilty of Economic Spying
-------
Reminds me of a headline in the Pender Post (local paper), something like "Pregnant Woman Caught Shoplifting."

Wisconsin Court Praises Drunken Concert Goer
-------
I cheated on this one, it was in the strange story section.

Michelle Obama's Outfits Abroad: Which Did She Wear Best?
-------
I've studied up on this one and have made my choice. The yellow plaid number from France on that Wednesday, you know, the same day she ate baguettes and fromage under the shadow of Le Tour Eiffel. And all those French people were there too. You know the one.

Getting Into the Top Prisons
-------
Sound advice for your inner Madoff.

Bean Counter

3

Three green beans hang happily from their mother plant. This opens up a host of cooking opportunities: three bean salad, three bean soup, three bean chili, three bean casserole, three bean dip, popcorn s'rimp, s'rimp gumbo, chicken fried s'rimp, etc. Ants are doing their worst on the stalk and on the ground and have left the plants struggling, but I've got beans, baby! Monday into Tuesday was prime growing weather for some reason. Yellow Squash plant got big overnight and is all perky and happy. Life on the farm is good. Carrots have also had a spurt of growth. Some little black worms have been chomping on them. They've been removed by mechanical means (I've pulled them off and tossed them over the fence). Lettuce plants have new life as well. I spotted a free range lettuce plant on the edge of the farm.

Optimism is growing along with the plants. Sometimes it takes the smallest nudge to feel like you're going in the right direction. And if not in the right direction, at least you feel like you're going somewhere.My beautiful little bean. Someday I will eat you. Hard-core herbivore. If it was 20 years ago, I'd make a terrible rap called hard-core herbivore.

My name is Doug and I'm here to say...

But it's not 20 years ago, and I know better.

Night fell on the sleepy farm. There was sitting and panting. The forest was alive with sound as insect racket came and went. Quiet and loud at once beneath a cloudless sky. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

"Mmmmm, smells like coffee."

said Doug as he drove away from the McDonald's drive-thru window.

Characters on TV and in books are so clever in everything they say. Yes, it makes them entertaining, but they lose some authenticity they might otherwise have. Perhaps we like being drawn into the fantastic world where everyone is smart, pointed and witty in their jabbering. I can appreciate that, but most of us can only be counted on for a good quip every three or four weeks. If I was writing the story of my life (an autobiography of sorts), I'd be sure to include the best lines of dialog. But your standard everyday conversation is not so articulate, not so coherent, not always clear, not sequential, not pretty and not entertaining. Some might say not worth writing and not worth reading. I disagree. When you connect with any form of art, and it hits you right in the gut, it has aligned itself with your experience. When the painting looks like it was done for you, when the singer seems to be singing just to you - about you - for you, when the book seems like your story. That's magic, baby.

Entertainment for escape is one thing. If the story is the Fantasmagorical Confrabulations of Professor Von Fribmitzgibbons, then fancy talk seems just fine. But when we're dealing with supposedly real people in conceivably realistic situations, it should be kept a little more earthy. I'm not saying that "Mmmmm, smells like coffee" should have a place in all fine, and even coarse, literature and entertainment. But consider the non-sequitur on occasion, for non-sequitur's sake (is that somehow inherently redundant, somehow?). Throw in some dialog that goes nowhere of importance, it may take you great places. It might titillate the occasional reader who expects and accepts more of the same for lack of readily available options.

That being said, CSI Miami is perfect the way it is.

(Horatio Caine squats down beside a homicide victim outside a Starbucks)

"What is it Horatio?"

"Mmmmm, smells like coffee."

YEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

EXTRA EXTRA!

LOCAL MAN HAS PICTURE TAKEN IN SEPIA TONES

by Haywood Dowager

Gadabout D. Lowell McFarland is shown here dolled up like a drugstore cowboy. He's a real egg. That's right. You wouldn't know it to look at him but he's quite the floor flusher.

When asked about his attire McFarland said "What, these glad rags? I'm no Joe Brooks, but I do what I can. I know my onions and I expect you do to, right? If you'll excuse me, there's a glass of noodle juice with my name on it, so I need to get a wiggle on."

McFarland is known to frequent cracker joints throughout the upper west side. Also said to enjoy a bit of the brown plaid, he's been spotted at a number of seedy drums in town.

"Are you still writing about me? Lay off, that's just a bunch of bubble gum you're writin', Chester. I'm hard-boiled, y'see? Enough of your hooey, now scram!" I told him I was just doing my job. "Let George do it!" he shot back. I told him I was finished and that I'd like to buy him a drink. "Now you're on the trolley, old boy! If you go on a toot, promise not to pull a Daniel Boone. I've got a reputation to uphold. I thought you were a real pill, Chester, but you're not half bad."

"Aw, applesauce!" I said.

Sabbathical

I'm giving myself the day off. I'll dedicate the next five minutes to blogland, but no more. I don't know where today went. I know where Saturday went. I know where Friday went. Sunday is just gone. The window of opportunity for a well-timed nap came and went. I'm reading a book that has no chapters and is written in a bit of dialect, all from the perspective of an Irish ten year old. I think that is adding to my confused place in the time-space continuum. It's hot today. I'm hot today. Here's a picture. I call it weenis akimbo.

Party and the body

I just looked at a pretty complete list of third parties in the US. I knew about the Libertarian, the Green, Natural Law, Social Democrats, US Communist and so forth. I forgot that Alan Keyes started a party, he being the craziest Republican ever. He makes Pat Buchanan look like a socialist. And somehow I had no recollection of the American Nazi Party. I like to think well structured hate is breaking down, but no such luck.

Well, I stumbled upon the Modern Whig Party. I think, in theory at least and at first glance, these may be my people. They describe their philosophy as cherry-picking the good ideas from the Republicans and Democrats and getting rid of the nonsense. This definitely appeals to my centrist, pragmatic, non-confrontational, non-fringe preferences. I've only given them a cursory look, but the concept excites me. They've got a collection of T-shirts, buttons and bumper stickers on their website just like any other party. But, instead of some Modern Whig logo golf balls or other garbage, (by the way, their logo is in the shape of an owl... also very appealing) they have a Modern Whig Party skateboard for sale. Dude! They're not a skater party by any means... but it does make them all the more intriguing. To compare interesting political propaganda items for sale: the Socialists have nothing for sale (surprise!), the Green Party has some eco-friendly bags and water bottles (makes sense), the Communists have things for sale (Surprise! not sarcastic) the highlight of which is a book with excerpts from Marx, Engel and Lenin, the Libertarians were the most comprehensive with books and materials... they have a section titled "controversial" with a few off-color items (classy), the Constitution Party has nothing interesting, and I found nothing cool from the big two parties.I probably can't bring myself to join any one party, "independent" has suited me just fine for a good while. But, I'd love to see a legitimate third party emerge, and one that has a mainstream shot is a novel idea.

Ross Perot's Reform Party had a chance, but it was really just an extension of him. Perot won 19% of the popular vote in 1992, proving that it was possible to insert a wedge between the cracks in the two-party system. But the Party fizzled. Trying to get Jesse Ventura to squeeze into the Reform Party then squeezing him out was a disaster. For better or worse, I don't see any other big personalities poised to make the charge.

I'd like for Obama to be the answer to all our political concerns, but there is a downside to his popularity. People who were energized by his campaign and are otherwise inclined to a wide field of political action may have had their moment with his election (even if he and Democrats don't fully line up with their ideology). I think they are apt to sit back and watch rather than continue to be active. Too often political activity only means getting someone elected. "We got you elected, now you do the rest. See you in four years." And also "You got me elected, now be quiet. I'll see you in four years."

Oooh, it took a cynical turn, didn't it? Anyway, I like the look of the Owl symbol for the Whigs, much better than the donkey or the elephant. How can you argue with the owl? It's wise, has excellent night vision and can turn its head around and around and around. It's like a political superhero compared to the other two. Really, the donkey? And the elephant isn't even indigenous to this half of the globe. Even at the shallow mascot-level, the two-party system is fatally flawed. Vote Owl. Owl's are cool.

iPod

We were in a small cabin deep in a pine forest. White pines mostly there in the North Carolina mountains, tall trees forming a high canopy. Slate outcroppings made for treacherous walks outside, so slippery, fractured and crackly. A steady rain had been falling for several days and gave no sign of letting up. Nothing was dry. The cabin had a palpable dampness, though by comparison to the outside world, it was downright arid. Arid, extra dry. For our purposes... Arid, not completely wet.

We were far from electricity; most of our modern gadgetry was drained of all battery power, but a few devices held out as long as they could. You never know when the end is coming with the iPod. It just stops playing. I remember how tape decks would slow down near the end of battery life, comically lowering voices and slowing down music, sadly and gradually marking the end. If you did it right you could turn the tape player off (even after the battery petered out), let it sit, then turn it back on... there would be some power remaining so you could choose your last sounds. But with the iPod, it was music straight into silence. How very digital of it. Analog was always more forgiving. The past is usually more forgiving than the present. Surely some metaphorically analogous something is begging to be formally revealed here, maybe another time. Probably not.

Knowing the iPod would give out eventually, I wanted to be sure to hear the song of my choice when the end came. By my best count I had played "Three Seed" by the Silversun Pickups twenty-three times in a row. The song has an epic air about it even though it is only five and a half minutes long. When played twenty-three times in a row, epic doesn't begin to describe it. By the time the replays had reached the teens, I was pretty sick of it. But I was committed. When the music stopped in the middle of the twenty-fourth play, I was left with a song in my brain I now hated, it made me edgy and no fun to be around. That seemed to be the consensus. It kept raining. I wondered if it would slow to an exhausted mist of a suspended wetness, or if it would just stop.

The rain continued its siege for several more days following the demise of the iPod. I awoke one morning as the sun came up through a well-rested blue sky. I don't know how the rain ended, but I know it did.

The camera I

Ever wonder what's going on behind the lens? After taking a picture of Mickey, I pretended to do so again, but aimed the camera at me/myself/I (definitely not I, but me and myself... it's a toss up, I lean toward myself. Grammarians chime in at your own risk and/or convenience). It's pretty horrid what he sees when I'm going for a good shot. Oh, the contortions... the cartoonish twisting and wrinkly shrivelitude. I know I don't have a poker face, but it's more expressive than I expect it to be. I make fun of cheesy acting, but if I were an actor it would be over-the-top cheese the likes of which would shock even the most seasoned Saved by the Bell viewer. Me included.

Back to turning the camera around. It would be cool to have a wide angle picture taken in the opposite direction of the subject by professional photographers. I think it would make a good coffee table book. The subject: Grand Canyon. The opposite: cameraman, families and donkeys and other cool things. The subject: Fireworks. The opposite: the faces lit up by the colored light, eyes reflecting the bursts. The subject: staged beauty. The opposite: reality. The subject: Brown Dog. The opposite: Contort-o-face.

Perhaps not an entirely original idea... but worth a go sometime. If this strikes anyone's fancy, I'd love to see what y'all come up with.

I think I think

I believe that government shouldn't recognize any marriage. Civil Unions for all with all the rights and responsibilities that go with them. If some think that's a slippery slope and men will be getting hitched to livestock... I'd like to see it....bring it on... it's worth it to extend partnership rights to everyone. "Marriage" can stay in the church. Gay unions don't threaten my marriage... only my wife and I can threaten our marriage. I believe in gay rights. I believe that those who don't aren't necessarily evil or homophobic. I believe the opportunities I have here in the US are the best I could hope for. I believe in the free market with some oversight. I believe in private health care. I believe everyone should have insurance, if that requires some more government programs and spending... fine. I believe that actions have consequences. I believe those on the far left think there should only be consequences for conservatives. I believe conservatives think every action should have a severe consequence. I believe both sides are equally hypocritical. I don't believe every liberal is good at heart. I don't believe every conservative has a heart of stone. I think extreme liberals fail to recognize that capitalism helps fund their social initiatives. I think those on the extreme right don't understand the value those initiatives add to humanity. I don't think the world is rational as we Americans define "rational." I think extreme liberals think that if we just reach out a hand, everyone will play along. I think Ahmedinejad proves that wrong. I think those on the extreme right think you shouldn't even try. I think cultural relativism is generally bullshit. I think the Taliban ideology should be wiped out. I think womens' rights are too low on the international priority list, if they are on it at all. Children too. I think cap and trade is useless unless the whole world joins in, as shifting pollution doesn't solve the problem. I think global warming has been wrongly publicized. I think green energy and less wasteful living are moral and practical imperatives. We shouldn't require the threat of the ocean rising 40 feet as a catalyst to change our ways. I think nuclear power is an answer. I think I'm a hypocrite. I think that admitting I'm a hypocrite makes me not a hypocrite. I think the rail system is underused and underdeveloped. I don't like tax incentives and rebates and write-offs. I don't understand "everyday people" who were distraught by Michael Jackson's death. I don't understand those that ignore his contributions entirely. I can listen to pundits on both sides of the debate and make up my own mind. I don't agree completely with anyone. I think reading fiction is more important than reading non-fiction. I believe all conspiracy theories. I think the abortion debate rules our judicial and political system. I think it shouldn't. I don't know about anyone who is 100% for or against torture. I think it's a cruel world and we are generally a nation of wussies. I think the near constant genocide in Africa is a failure of the UN. I think "Americans" don't really relate to any other culture. I think electric cars are cool. I think there are great creative ideas in all fields that government funding shouldn't go near. I think there are terrible things in the world that I'm glad I don't see, but somehow I'm complicit. I don't trust anyone who has all the answers. I think we're all flawed. I think nothing beats nachos at a baseball game. I think you've probably had your fill of what I think.

And I quote

Dear famous political figures,

We try to be a forgiving public, occasionally. But sometimes, your words stick and you can't unstick them. There are varied reasons for the various things you say... and that really doesn't matter. Once you say something stupid and it sticks, it's hard to take seriously anything you later say or previously said, no matter how eloquent, relevant or inspired. Sorry.

Yours,
Doug McF.

"I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it."

"They misunderestimated me."

"It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is. If the--if he--if 'is' means is and never has been, that is not--that is one thing."

"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."

"(insert almost anything Al Sharpton says)"

"I remember landing under sniper fire."

"The only way to reduce the number of nuclear weapons is to use them."

"Our economy, I think, still the fundamentals of our economy are strong."

"(Insert any rambling Sarah Palin quote)"

Some are stupid, some are unbelievable, some are sad, all are true. There's some wiggle room on a few of these... but what you mean is not all that relevant, what you say is. We private citizens enjoy the luxury of no one recording our every word and the benefit that our every word doesn't carry much weight. Good thing, because I say some stupid things (and write some stupid things). Maybe you do too? It makes me wonder if the only original thoughts public figures have are the stupid ones we ridicule. Is the bulk of their good material fed by teleprompter and penned by a team of thirty-two year old wonks? Why can't we get the wonks in office? We want wonks! It's possible to misspeak, but I think (more often than not) the slip-ups and oopses are the genuine, the unfiltered, the core... whether it makes sense, whether it's a lie, whether it's crude, whether you like it or not.

From a James McMurtry song... "I didn't mean to say it. But I meant what I said." I don't think Bush meant to say "They misunderestimated me." But I'm sure, if it is cosmically-fundamentally-grammatically-syntaxidly-approximately-existentially possible... he meant what he said.

Yawn and retire

We may get a meal out of this Farmo Cunado yet. That is the plan... harvest enough food for one decent meal. That may not sound very ambitious, but few of you have seen the farm in person... one meal would be a tremendous victory.

The best shots I could muster are below.One of the beanstalks has climbed to an altitude of 3 feet and many of the plants are starting to flower. For comparison... the little green thing at about 4:00 in the picture is the biggest lettuce plant.
The Yellow Squash plant is looking pretty good with some flowers as well. It isn't very sturdy, but it is resilient.
The Lettuce is the weakest of the bunch, but is still growing. It may be the amuse bouche when meal time finally comes.Carrots continue to grow, though I can't imagine much of a carrot growing beneath the frail vegetation above. We shall see, we shall see.

Pests have not been too big an issue. The initial ground invasion by the ants from several weeks ago was successfully thwarted. Ant season may be over, there is very little mound activity. The spiders will start to do their thing as fall approaches, but they are predictable in their web weaving and web locating. There has been some munching on some of the bean leaves, but it is negligible. The surviving lettuce seems to be free of any bite marks. I'm all for vegetarians, but when the vegetarians are bugs and they are eating my crop(s), I'm very much agin them. Fortunately, the crape myrtles seem to attract a large number of beetles and are sacrificing themselves for the greater good. I have not, and will not, do my brutal midsummer prune job on those near the farm as they have proven (to be) quite useful.

A good rain or two has perked everything up. Some juicy, oxygenated rain beats irrigation any day. For all my bellyaching about summer heat, it has not been too bad so far. The plants are happy about it and so am I. Summer storms grumble all around me, but none shall wet my garden whistle tonight. Storm cloud companions block a nearly full moon. Birds discuss the weather and other current events. They are confused by Sarah Palin, I can tell by their hurried warbles. A heavy breeze pushes humid air. A heavy breeze pushes countless needless on far fewer branches on far fewer trees. I can't feel the breeze, but I can see the evidence. There's a small patch of blue. I yawn and retire.

trix

I almost got hit by a rabbit this morning. I saw him coming... he saw me coming. He stopped by the ditch on the side of the road, I assumed to wait for me to pass. So I sped up... then he came at me. I was able to avoid disaster. A lot of other animals have not fared so well along that same stretch of road (not by my tire, mind you). Cat, Squirrel and Possum didn't make it. Silly rabbit.

I offer up what we call a frap. Frenetic Random Activity Pattern. Some say that a frap is when a dog runs around like a maniac with no clear direction or destination. I can appreciate that. In our world, a frap looks more like this:
Often it will last for minutes on end with an occasional break in the action. If you're in bed, sometimes you only see legs kicking up into the air and hear occasional snorts. Black dog is an expert frapper - a technician, an artist. Brown dog will frap on the occasional bug, but he lacks the passion to be truly great.

Celebrate

I'm all for celebrating and congratulating when celebration and congratulation(s) are appropriate. I'm all for the supportive gesture as well. That being said, the following three scenarios in sport make me slightly uncomfortable.

College Softball. After each half inning in the field, there is a huge reception from the bench for everyone's effort. Ladies, congratulate a good play, or console a player who had a rough moment, but otherwise... just hold steady until the end of the game. The more you do it, the less it means. Not everybody sees it this way... but they're wrong.

Doubles Tennis. After most points there is a hand slap between the players. Unless you're passing signals (which you're not)... is it really necessary to high five your partner after the other team hits a return into the net? The answer is no.

Basketball free throws. Again... why? "Hey, way to brick that free throw, Shaq... slap me some skin." "Hey, J.J., congrats on making that unguarded shot from 15 feet to tie the game at 14 in the first half. Give me five." Hit one to tie it with 5 seconds left and I'll be the first in line to slap your hand or your butt... but, it has to mean something.

In other celebration news...

To honor America on this great weekend, we have been eating freedom dogs, liberty chips, justice carrots, bicameral pizza, freedom ketchup, red white and blueberries, freedom ranch dressing, Samuel Adams Beer, independence dog food and freedom nacho cheese. You can't have too much freedom.

We have no purple mountain majesties around here and our amber waves of grain were harvested a couple weeks ago. However, we do have spacious skies, some really tall corn, a snoring dog, a snoring cat and another snoring dog. And that's my America.

It's time to join the snoring freedom chorus.

Hear say

A few things I've caught myself saying out loud.

While by myself watching tv... a commercial comes on with dogs. I say, "I like dogs." I know I like dogs, there is no reason for me to articulate it so as to better understand myself. Yet, I do so anyway.

On Friday, with an unjustified sense of accomplishment: "I've worn the same pair of pants all week." Bravo, self. I beam with a strange discolored pride.

Out in the yard.... "I see you, fly!" I say angrily to a fly that is buzzing around me. It doesn't scare the fly or make it stop, it continues to harass me. Wasted, wasted words.

While shooting hoops by myself, I sometimes ask, "Are you kidding me?" when a shot doesn't go in. Who or what am I talking to? The basketball? The hoop? Gravity and trajectory? The laws of physics? Quantum mechanics? Thermodynamics? My shoes? There's no joke. There is no kidding. Am I really surprised when one doesn't go in? No. Mildly disappointed at times, but the shock that "Are you kidding me?" suggests is way over the top. It's almost as bad as shouting "Money!" every time I launch a shot. Although, nothing's as bad as shouting "Money!" every time you shoot.

That's all for today. (You) expect something fantastic tomorrow.

A moment with

How does the anchor on the 6:30 news know why the stock market went up 84 points or down 213 points? Was there really a single reason that the average of 30 stocks went up x points or down y points? If he does know... who told him?

The stock market plunged 123 points today with heavy trading and I have no idea why.

That I would believe.

Also, a drop of 100 points seems like pretty bad news. But a 100 point gain never is reported as pretty good news. I demand satisfaction.

This may all be sounding unreasonably cranky, if so... I apologize. I trust you to hold an intervention if I veer for too long into ranting-obsessive-complainer mode. When I start sounding like Andy Rooney, that's the warning signal.

I never much liked carpet. It seems to me that if I've got a floor that I can walk on, that's good enough. Why do people spend spend thousands of dollars on nice hardwood floors only to cover them up? Is the floor cold? Why does it need a coat? It's a floor - an inanimate object, it may get cold, but it can't feel cold. Some carpet is tall, some is short, and it comes in all sorts of colors. What's wrong with beige? I like beige. Remember shag carpet from the 70's? What were we thinking? Some people put carpet in their bathrooms. I put a lot of things in bathrooms, but carpet isn't one of them. Some people send me carpet samples. I don't know why. Here's a blue one. Here's a red one. I don't even know what color this one is. What should I do with all these carpet samples? The only carpet I would like is a magic carpet... I'd get on it and fly away from all these darn carpet samples.

Eeeeewwwwww

I tend to think that if all the rules and regulations we have are enforced, that we would generally be ok. From financial shenanigans to gun laws to you name it. There are places for improvement, surely (assault weapons come to mind), but I think we modern beings over-legislate and under-enforce. Look back in history and I think you might find the reverse. This will be no great moral or social blog, for what follows is sadly ridiculous.

About twenty years ago the European Union (The EU was established in 1993, so I'm a little fuzzy on how it did anything prior to that... but that's another topic) set up marketing standards for fruits and vegetables. It set guidelines for the shapes, sizes and colors of 26 fruits and vegetables. It became illegal to sell misshapen fruit, undersized vegetables and poorly colored produce. How strict are these standards? There are guidelines for the proper curvature of bananas... the arc has to be in proper proportion to the diameter and length of the fruit. Madness. Lumpy squash is unacceptable. A two-pronged carrot also rejected. Tons of food are discarded annually based only on appearance. In England, these standards have been followed quite closely. Some other EU states don't enforce them. So... you have a silly rule. Who is wrong here... the English for policing their fruit or the French for thumbing their noses at the silly standards? There's no good answer. How about... start with good law and enforce it.

The EU is overturning the marketing standards. That's good news, except they are only doing away with guidelines for 16 of the 26 fruits and vegetables... 10 will remain under close scrutiny. I feel safe knowing that I won't come across an undersized apple the next time I'm in London. But here, I take my life into my own hands every time I go to Food Lion. Danger lurks in every bin... straight bananas, knobby potatoes and the occasional pear-shaped pear.