Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The Hunt for Read Blogtober
Ten minutes of focused blogging on nothing in particular. A long drive spurred no revelations. I'm in the central time zone. It's sad how many times I calculate local and eastern time throughout the day and how often I'm able to confuse myself if I relax my brain for a moment. I'm rarely tempted by movie previews and their special effects, but Where the Wild Things Are looks (as in visually) pretty cool. It may be worth a ticket to see in the theatre. There has been no transition from summer to fall. The sun sets two hours earlier and the temps are twenty degrees cooler. Not that I mind, but it really snuck up on me. According to Blogger, theatre and snuck are not words... luckily I know better. Seven minutes in and this is all I have to show. Now eight minutes. Now nine. Each minute passes with a vacant 59-second stare into the distance. Then the update. Ten minutes. As I wrote yesterday, the end of September is a blogging void. The fireworks start tomorrow. I even just thought up a concept, the excitement is palpable... but I wouldn't dare waste it on this last blog of September. Blogtober awaits. Patience... patience. Patience.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Horse Latitudes
Apparently the last week in September is "Don't Blog Much" Week. I sense big things for October: new features, recurring themes and multimedia extravaganzas. But that is (will be) the future and now is now. September, the horse latitudes of my inspirational sea - windless, currentless, horseless. I can't read, I can't write. Tough times to say the least. I need a book to grab me. Not so as to inspire, just to engage me with words once again. I have needs. I need success in fantasy football. I need the virtual headache of fantasy baseball 2009 to end. I need a reason to write. I need to go out to find one. Tomorrow I will do so. Material and subject matter to fashion and refashion shall I find. I'll see hills turn to mountains and mountains back to hills. I'll drive there, work there, sleep there... then leave. There will be wind and there will be horses. Travel ho. Tally ho.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Two Nights in Sandusky
In August 2007 I went to Ohio on business. Those few short days were a success. Business was conducted with results that made us feel that we were really on our way and starting to grow. We offered the right things and it reached people. It was very satisfying, even as I was more the spectator than the participant. But it was not all business. What I remember from just those couple days is that, as we do too rarely, we allowed ourselves to enjoy the moment, or more precisely since we were in Sandusky, OH, to enjoy trying to find a moment to enjoy. During the middle of summer, it is said that Sandusky is pretty hopping… Cedar Point and Put-in-Bay draw the crowds. By the time college kids go back to school, the town shuts down, dead beyond dead. Two nights in Sandusky:
Night one, after the non-alcoholic cocktail party to kick off the event, we raced out to see the late showing of Superbad, which had just opened. I don’t like all stupid movies, but I know when I’ll like one, and this one was a definite with my hero Michael Cera in the lead. The movie was put together by the creator of Freaks and Geeks - never a commercial success, but it was great, find it online or on DVD or somewhere. It’s the kind of show that is almost too real and painful to watch. It churns up unresolved issues of teenage awkwardness as well as anything I can think of, outside of my own recurring dreams. The movie kept us out late, but energized… you can have it both ways, and you should always try to.
Night two, desperation sets in quickly and we much too seriously consider going to Superbad again. Cooler heads prevail, and we decide to drive past the strip and into town. Downtown Sandusky. It’s up on the lake there, closer to Cleveland than Toledo, closer to trash than treasure. At this time, we don’t know about the ghost town that awaits us. On our way in town, I place a call to the father of friend who fishes up near here to find out what’s worth seeing/ doing/ eating. I leave a message. Downtown there are no cars on the streets, it’s quiet, too quiet. Always interested in, though only occasionally searching for, good live music, we go into a few bars to see what we can, well, hear. One stop was an Irish Pub. As I recall, they were playing classic rock over the house system. No live music, not even appropriate canned music. We ask where we should try for some local music. We get a few suggestions and ultimately are directed to a bar that often has metal bands (we are in Ohio, where “metal” still lives). Surprise! There is no live music, but there is a DJ turning out an assortment of loud noises to an empty room. It reminded of bad club gigs where the stage lights, or even dim bar lights, reflect off the floor, unblocked by unseen crowds of adoring fans. After a couple obligatory drinks (you can only walk in and out of so many bad empty bars without taking pity on the bartender and giving them some business) we go back to the streets to wander. There, across the street, as the waves of Lake Erie gently rolled into the concrete shoreline, the sounds splashing into our ears, a marquee catches our eyes and touches our souls - Menopause the Musical: The Hilarious Celebration of Women and The Change. Our disappointment… it is not showing until October. Sandusky, you are quite the tease.
The next day I got the return call about where and what we should see and eat in Sandusky. “Well, there’s an Applebee’s.”
Night one, after the non-alcoholic cocktail party to kick off the event, we raced out to see the late showing of Superbad, which had just opened. I don’t like all stupid movies, but I know when I’ll like one, and this one was a definite with my hero Michael Cera in the lead. The movie was put together by the creator of Freaks and Geeks - never a commercial success, but it was great, find it online or on DVD or somewhere. It’s the kind of show that is almost too real and painful to watch. It churns up unresolved issues of teenage awkwardness as well as anything I can think of, outside of my own recurring dreams. The movie kept us out late, but energized… you can have it both ways, and you should always try to.
Night two, desperation sets in quickly and we much too seriously consider going to Superbad again. Cooler heads prevail, and we decide to drive past the strip and into town. Downtown Sandusky. It’s up on the lake there, closer to Cleveland than Toledo, closer to trash than treasure. At this time, we don’t know about the ghost town that awaits us. On our way in town, I place a call to the father of friend who fishes up near here to find out what’s worth seeing/ doing/ eating. I leave a message. Downtown there are no cars on the streets, it’s quiet, too quiet. Always interested in, though only occasionally searching for, good live music, we go into a few bars to see what we can, well, hear. One stop was an Irish Pub. As I recall, they were playing classic rock over the house system. No live music, not even appropriate canned music. We ask where we should try for some local music. We get a few suggestions and ultimately are directed to a bar that often has metal bands (we are in Ohio, where “metal” still lives). Surprise! There is no live music, but there is a DJ turning out an assortment of loud noises to an empty room. It reminded of bad club gigs where the stage lights, or even dim bar lights, reflect off the floor, unblocked by unseen crowds of adoring fans. After a couple obligatory drinks (you can only walk in and out of so many bad empty bars without taking pity on the bartender and giving them some business) we go back to the streets to wander. There, across the street, as the waves of Lake Erie gently rolled into the concrete shoreline, the sounds splashing into our ears, a marquee catches our eyes and touches our souls - Menopause the Musical: The Hilarious Celebration of Women and The Change. Our disappointment… it is not showing until October. Sandusky, you are quite the tease.
The next day I got the return call about where and what we should see and eat in Sandusky. “Well, there’s an Applebee’s.”
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
In the end, it was Doogie
If the sole accomplishment of this post is that it moves Joy Behar off the first page it has done something very important.
I have started the Chabon book, The Final Solution. I am one short chapter into it. Thus far, too much uninspiring description for my taste. The opening scene designed to create interest and make me want to keep reading has done neither. I will continue, but not because it has compelled me to do so. Hey, my first line tonight wouldn't make anyone want to read on, but you did so anyway, didn't you? I'll give Chabon the same benefit of the doubt.
The Max Tivoli book has been completed. I thought it was good and, in the end, probably was unlike Benjamin Button. By chance, this is the second straight book I've read told through a sort of journal. The previous book (insert book name here if I ever remember it) was great. There was a turning point in the novel where I got a little sad realizing the character was slipping away towards death and I was going to be there when it happened. I'm not sure that I cared about the character, but I seemed to know him from his childhood through to the end. I wonder if that feeling is anything like what older people feel when they age and lose people they've known for a lifetime. I don't necessarily like you, but it's too bad you have to go. Hey, I'm glad I came, just wish I hadn't stayed so long. (last line courtesy of Hayes Carll)
A moment ago I thought of Doogie Howser typing in his journal at the end of an episode, and I can't shake it. (cue thoughtful synthesizer music...)
Somewhere over the Atlantic. I've spent the last nineteen years learning how to be Doogie Howser M.D. Now it's time to learn how to be just Doogie.
Amen, Doogie.
I have started the Chabon book, The Final Solution. I am one short chapter into it. Thus far, too much uninspiring description for my taste. The opening scene designed to create interest and make me want to keep reading has done neither. I will continue, but not because it has compelled me to do so. Hey, my first line tonight wouldn't make anyone want to read on, but you did so anyway, didn't you? I'll give Chabon the same benefit of the doubt.
The Max Tivoli book has been completed. I thought it was good and, in the end, probably was unlike Benjamin Button. By chance, this is the second straight book I've read told through a sort of journal. The previous book (insert book name here if I ever remember it) was great. There was a turning point in the novel where I got a little sad realizing the character was slipping away towards death and I was going to be there when it happened. I'm not sure that I cared about the character, but I seemed to know him from his childhood through to the end. I wonder if that feeling is anything like what older people feel when they age and lose people they've known for a lifetime. I don't necessarily like you, but it's too bad you have to go. Hey, I'm glad I came, just wish I hadn't stayed so long. (last line courtesy of Hayes Carll)
A moment ago I thought of Doogie Howser typing in his journal at the end of an episode, and I can't shake it. (cue thoughtful synthesizer music...)
Somewhere over the Atlantic. I've spent the last nineteen years learning how to be Doogie Howser M.D. Now it's time to learn how to be just Doogie.
Amen, Doogie.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Let's Talk Addendum - A Disturbing Truth
I have terrible news to report, and rather than try to find the right words (I'm convinced such words do not exist) to adequately describe this news, I give you this picture. I really don't know what to say. For all our ridicule of The View (and we all do ridicule it), at least it concentrates the terrible effects of four, five or six into a single hour. If they spread out like a virus, we're all doomed. I am not overstating this. Much worse than the swine flu. More like the plague. With The View you simply had to avoid that single hour of TV. It's not so easy to sidestep multiple shows. And then... you get spinoffs from those shows. And crossover! Joy Behar turns the tables and interviews Larry King... tonight on the Joy Behar Show. That's great TV! This is an international crisis. We need more regulation, more oversight. Where are you FCC? Hello, government... nationalize health care or don't, but make it quick, this Behar thing means serious t r o u b l e. National Guard Reserves, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Brownies, Cub Scouts... mobilize. For the greater good. For any good. Good god. Hmmm. Sweet dreams everyone.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Let's talk
I'm already a little sorry I am attempting this... here goes. I am ranking the evening cable talk/debate/politics shows. I will give a three sentence review of each show and I won't allow myself to make any ties or decide that they're all bad and go on to something else. We begin. My methodology... write the three sentence review, then get to ranking. +/- 4% margin of error
Now, from last to first (not necessarily worst to best), for arbitrary reasons that are mine alone - not necessarily based on quality or point of view, more likely based on level of irritation, relevance, some amount of intrigue they create or the car crash dynamic they may produce (which is a plus for some, not for others).
13. Nancy Grace CNN Headline News Two words: Nancy Grace. If there were not kidnappings, abductions and toddler pageants she would not be on TV. This makes me wish there weren't kidnappings, abductions and toddler pageants.
12. Glenn Beck FoxNews Perhaps the biggest boob on TV. Kind of a mini-Rush Limbaugh who uses his Libertarian position to be holier than thou and holier than thee, Left, Right, Center, Top and Bottom. It was impossible to like him on CNN, now it is somehow more impossible on FoxNews.
11. Lou Dobbs Tonight CNN Lou is a great blowhard and is never willing to concede much of anything. How can you not like a guy that's pompous and smug and all that goes with it? Oh, that's right, you can't possibly like him.
10. On The Record with Greta Van Susteren FoxNews I haven't bothered with this one since... maybe ever. It's a more distinguished Nancy Grace, but Nancy Grace all the same. This is the third sentence of my review.
9. The Ed Show MSNBC Ed Schultz is a grade A goober. He makes his points in a Beckian-way that most should find nauseating. New to TV, it makes me wish that they would start up The Race for The White House again... because... 2012 is right around the corner and David Gregory needs something to do during the week.
8. Campbell Brown CNN Vanilla with extra vanilla topped with vanilla, and vanilla on the side. She brings nothing, sad to say. I've never been compelled to watch (for good reasons or bad).
7. Countdown with Keith Olbermann MSNBC I am not an Olbermann fan, not on Countdown, not at ESPN, not on Football Night in America, not on a train, not in the rain. His Worst Person in the World bit is the worst bit in the world. Has the same bunch of bootlickers on again and again agreeing with him and laughing at their divinely gifted hilarity.
6. Hannity FoxNews Smugness to the max. He does some good things in the world but can not give Obama the benefit of the doubt on anything, not even a little, never, ever. Feigned humility is way over the top, at least Beck and Olbermann are out front with their elitist poo-pooery.
5. The Rachel Maddow Show MSNBC Was a better guest on Hardball than a host of her own show. She is more thoughtful than Olbermann but has gone cutesy to carve out a niche with the snarky 19-32 year-old female demographic. Watched a segment where she talked about "Planet Cheney" that was god-awful.
4. The O'Reilly Factor FoxNews O'Reilly used to be almost OK, then got famous, published some books and went terribly wrong. Feud with Olbermann and conspiracy theories about network agreements for them to tone down their rhetoric are, for lack of a better word, annoying. Actually does have a non-partisan thought every now and then, but his ridiculousness (being spoofed by Colbert every night) makes it impossible to take anything he says seriously... or tune in to see in the first place.
3. Larry King Live! CNN Larry is an old man. Tonight's guest: Tyra Banks. Yes, his show runs the gamut from entertainment to world affairs, but the fluff consistently diminishes the important.
2. Anderson Cooper 360 CNN I believe Cooper actually cares about a lot of what he reports. I believe Cooper is kind of a wiener. Cooper Cooper Cooper.
1. Hardball with Chris Matthews MSNBC Chris can be fair and even-handed. Chris can also totally lose his mind and say things that would get any other pundit host in trouble... near but not quite to the Imus level. Show had gone downhill but has rebounded some, wacky graphics notwithstanding.
Conclusion: The more often you have Katrina vanden Huevel, Karl Rove, Paul Begala, Octomom, William Donohue or Al Sharpton on your show, the less inclined we are to watch. I'm just sayin'.
Now, from last to first (not necessarily worst to best), for arbitrary reasons that are mine alone - not necessarily based on quality or point of view, more likely based on level of irritation, relevance, some amount of intrigue they create or the car crash dynamic they may produce (which is a plus for some, not for others).13. Nancy Grace CNN Headline News Two words: Nancy Grace. If there were not kidnappings, abductions and toddler pageants she would not be on TV. This makes me wish there weren't kidnappings, abductions and toddler pageants.
12. Glenn Beck FoxNews Perhaps the biggest boob on TV. Kind of a mini-Rush Limbaugh who uses his Libertarian position to be holier than thou and holier than thee, Left, Right, Center, Top and Bottom. It was impossible to like him on CNN, now it is somehow more impossible on FoxNews.
11. Lou Dobbs Tonight CNN Lou is a great blowhard and is never willing to concede much of anything. How can you not like a guy that's pompous and smug and all that goes with it? Oh, that's right, you can't possibly like him.
10. On The Record with Greta Van Susteren FoxNews I haven't bothered with this one since... maybe ever. It's a more distinguished Nancy Grace, but Nancy Grace all the same. This is the third sentence of my review.
9. The Ed Show MSNBC Ed Schultz is a grade A goober. He makes his points in a Beckian-way that most should find nauseating. New to TV, it makes me wish that they would start up The Race for The White House again... because... 2012 is right around the corner and David Gregory needs something to do during the week.
8. Campbell Brown CNN Vanilla with extra vanilla topped with vanilla, and vanilla on the side. She brings nothing, sad to say. I've never been compelled to watch (for good reasons or bad).
7. Countdown with Keith Olbermann MSNBC I am not an Olbermann fan, not on Countdown, not at ESPN, not on Football Night in America, not on a train, not in the rain. His Worst Person in the World bit is the worst bit in the world. Has the same bunch of bootlickers on again and again agreeing with him and laughing at their divinely gifted hilarity.
6. Hannity FoxNews Smugness to the max. He does some good things in the world but can not give Obama the benefit of the doubt on anything, not even a little, never, ever. Feigned humility is way over the top, at least Beck and Olbermann are out front with their elitist poo-pooery.
5. The Rachel Maddow Show MSNBC Was a better guest on Hardball than a host of her own show. She is more thoughtful than Olbermann but has gone cutesy to carve out a niche with the snarky 19-32 year-old female demographic. Watched a segment where she talked about "Planet Cheney" that was god-awful.
4. The O'Reilly Factor FoxNews O'Reilly used to be almost OK, then got famous, published some books and went terribly wrong. Feud with Olbermann and conspiracy theories about network agreements for them to tone down their rhetoric are, for lack of a better word, annoying. Actually does have a non-partisan thought every now and then, but his ridiculousness (being spoofed by Colbert every night) makes it impossible to take anything he says seriously... or tune in to see in the first place.
3. Larry King Live! CNN Larry is an old man. Tonight's guest: Tyra Banks. Yes, his show runs the gamut from entertainment to world affairs, but the fluff consistently diminishes the important.
2. Anderson Cooper 360 CNN I believe Cooper actually cares about a lot of what he reports. I believe Cooper is kind of a wiener. Cooper Cooper Cooper.
1. Hardball with Chris Matthews MSNBC Chris can be fair and even-handed. Chris can also totally lose his mind and say things that would get any other pundit host in trouble... near but not quite to the Imus level. Show had gone downhill but has rebounded some, wacky graphics notwithstanding.
Conclusion: The more often you have Katrina vanden Huevel, Karl Rove, Paul Begala, Octomom, William Donohue or Al Sharpton on your show, the less inclined we are to watch. I'm just sayin'.
Monday, September 21, 2009
DANGER!
When you least expect it, certain friends, writers of blogs themselves, may link to one of your posts, even if (or perhaps because) it is one of your poorer efforts. This writer (me) is happy for the wake-up call. If certain readers of certain blogs do follow that certain link, they will certainly judge McBlogland by the contents therein, as well they should. So, shame on me for churning out derivative tripe (and even a sequel of said tripe). Never Again! Never Again! However, I make no apology for the special relationship that title and content have within the gray confines of this page. I can not and shall not ever apologize for that... it is here where I make my stand. Right. Time to increase spending on Quality Control and introduce some incentive based performance metrics for the writing staff. Or something like that. Big Brother is watching, and sometimes Big Brother is someone's little brother. But in the end, this is a very simple game. You write the blog, you publish the blog, they read the blog. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains. Think about that for a while.
A tough day for roadkill this morning. A lot of carnage out there. Raccoon, possum, squirrel and fox. The fox was a little upsetting I guess because it's dog-like. I felt bad for the others as well. It's not my thing. I don't like watching wildebeests getting tracked down by lions on nature shows. Same goes for spiders and their prey. Circle of life... Food Chain... yadda yadda... I don't like it. (Yes, reader, this is part of my Improved Content Initiative (ICI, which in french means "here," which is where we are right now. Could there be an acronym more current and alive than ICI? Believe me, the answer is no.)) A better writer would have probably used square brackets somewhere in there, but, not surprisingly, I am not that writer.
The literati amongst you are familiar with the late David Foster Wallace. If you take away 'Wallace,' you get David Foster. From Infinite Jest writer to Infinite Tool producer by quick subtraction of one word. Isn't that something?
Right on.
A tough day for roadkill this morning. A lot of carnage out there. Raccoon, possum, squirrel and fox. The fox was a little upsetting I guess because it's dog-like. I felt bad for the others as well. It's not my thing. I don't like watching wildebeests getting tracked down by lions on nature shows. Same goes for spiders and their prey. Circle of life... Food Chain... yadda yadda... I don't like it. (Yes, reader, this is part of my Improved Content Initiative (ICI, which in french means "here," which is where we are right now. Could there be an acronym more current and alive than ICI? Believe me, the answer is no.)) A better writer would have probably used square brackets somewhere in there, but, not surprisingly, I am not that writer.
The literati amongst you are familiar with the late David Foster Wallace. If you take away 'Wallace,' you get David Foster. From Infinite Jest writer to Infinite Tool producer by quick subtraction of one word. Isn't that something?
Right on.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Ferris Bueller: The Sequel
For real this time... I give you nothing. Come Monday, it'll be all right. Come Monday, I'll think of something to write. I spent a couple a days in writer's block haze and I just want to... something something.
Physically and mentally beat, I am. I've got a bag full of Combos and I'm going to watch the Emmy's. That last sentence was true except for the parts about the Combos and watching the Emmy's. Catch y'all Monday.
Physically and mentally beat, I am. I've got a bag full of Combos and I'm going to watch the Emmy's. That last sentence was true except for the parts about the Combos and watching the Emmy's. Catch y'all Monday.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Ferris Bueller
Time for a day off. I'm not skipping school and I won't drive a Ferarri into Chicago for a Cubs game. I'm going to listen to some football and recuperate from an intense day of yard work. We've gotten a reprieve from a gloomy weather forecast that was all clouds and all rain, it is neither cloudy nor rainy. I will enjoy it.
But before I go I'll give you something, something, anything...
I've got nothing. So I give you nothing. Make the most of it.
Here's how I walked to school as a young lad. It was, in fact, uphill both ways, and there was neck high snow at times. Not long after we moved away they started to require that everyone ride the bus. I liked walking. I didn't like being terrified of little yippy dogs, but I liked walking. Now, a walk down memory lane (First Street).
View Larger Map
But before I go I'll give you something, something, anything...
I've got nothing. So I give you nothing. Make the most of it.
Here's how I walked to school as a young lad. It was, in fact, uphill both ways, and there was neck high snow at times. Not long after we moved away they started to require that everyone ride the bus. I liked walking. I didn't like being terrified of little yippy dogs, but I liked walking. Now, a walk down memory lane (First Street).
View Larger Map
Friday, September 18, 2009
Live, from Burgaw, it's Friday night!
Wednesday, and this detail is important, Wednesday I wrote the following: Reflection: I propose the idea that, as a practical joke, a bunch of Republicans got together and told Joe Wilson that when the topic of covering illegal aliens came up they would all make a big stink at the address. He, of course, was the only one who spoke up. Oops! Those crazy lawmakers and their pranks.
Check out Thursday night's edition of Saturday Night Live.
Eerily similar, no? Sure, they twisted it up a bit, they had to. I can only assume that the writers at SNL are avid McBlogland readers, most people are. There is no other reasonable explanation.
To be honest, when I watched the video a few minutes ago, I got really nervous that I had written my idea after the skit had aired and would be thought a fraud and a hack. I may in fact be be both of those things, but this was not proven by the events of September 16th and 17th, 2009.
¡Hasta mañana!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Claspers
I've sat here for a while, blog screen blank and ready for filling. There is nothing in my head. Maybe not nothing, but very little, and it doesn't stretch very far, believe me. What's there is my sustained dislike for humid weather and still pesky mosquitoes. You don't want to hear about it, I don't want to write about, let's call the whole thing off. Brown dog just gave me kiss. His breath smells of freshly chewed wood. It's dark at eight. I'm annoyed at the two bugs that keep landing on the screen out here, but pleasantly surprised that every bug in the backyard isn't a moth to my Dell Inspiron 1520 flame.
CNN asks, "What is your favorite dinosaur?"
36% Tyrannosaurus rex
17% Brontosaurus
18% Triceratops
29% Barney
They're all pretty good - I don't think you can go wrong with any of them. Forced to choose I went with Triceratops. Ankylosaurus with his club tail and tough shell is pretty cool, I'm disappointed he wasn't an option. He's kind of the turtlesaurus of the Jurassic. I don't think he would have polled well.
You may remember my emotional crisis with turtles crossing NC highways a few months back, many of them not making it across. Right now the daredevils of the road are woolly mammoth caterpillars. After a quick google, it looks like I'm the only one that calls them woolly mammoths. The woolly bear, sometimes called woolly worm, is the caterpillar stage of the Isabella tiger moth, Pyrrharctia isabella. These fuzzy dudes are crisscrossing our roads with reckless and slow abandon. I wish they wouldn't. I say slow, but considering..., they move at a pretty good clip. It may be that they get a few feet out there and it is really hot, like walking on hot coals. They sprint with their many legs trying to find the cool grass on the other side. Poor little guys.
For our education (courtesy of something written by some Australian guy): All caterpillars have 3 pairs of true legs attached under the thorax. The true legs are segmented, with joints like our knees and ankles. They have a little claw on the end. Most caterpillars also have up to five pairs of prolegs. The prolegs are not segmented, but are cylindrical. They are used for walking and clinging, as they have a set of microscopic hooks on the base. The last pair of prolegs on the anal abdominal segment are usually called claspers. So in all, they have 16 legs: they are hexadecapodal.
Yeah, you heard me, hexadecapodal.
CNN asks, "What is your favorite dinosaur?"
36% Tyrannosaurus rex
17% Brontosaurus
18% Triceratops
29% Barney
They're all pretty good - I don't think you can go wrong with any of them. Forced to choose I went with Triceratops. Ankylosaurus with his club tail and tough shell is pretty cool, I'm disappointed he wasn't an option. He's kind of the turtlesaurus of the Jurassic. I don't think he would have polled well.
You may remember my emotional crisis with turtles crossing NC highways a few months back, many of them not making it across. Right now the daredevils of the road are woolly mammoth caterpillars. After a quick google, it looks like I'm the only one that calls them woolly mammoths. The woolly bear, sometimes called woolly worm, is the caterpillar stage of the Isabella tiger moth, Pyrrharctia isabella. These fuzzy dudes are crisscrossing our roads with reckless and slow abandon. I wish they wouldn't. I say slow, but considering..., they move at a pretty good clip. It may be that they get a few feet out there and it is really hot, like walking on hot coals. They sprint with their many legs trying to find the cool grass on the other side. Poor little guys.
For our education (courtesy of something written by some Australian guy): All caterpillars have 3 pairs of true legs attached under the thorax. The true legs are segmented, with joints like our knees and ankles. They have a little claw on the end. Most caterpillars also have up to five pairs of prolegs. The prolegs are not segmented, but are cylindrical. They are used for walking and clinging, as they have a set of microscopic hooks on the base. The last pair of prolegs on the anal abdominal segment are usually called claspers. So in all, they have 16 legs: they are hexadecapodal.
Yeah, you heard me, hexadecapodal.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Box of Soap
There is racism. There is sexism. There are different points of view.
I know I argued yesterday that this should no longer be news, but it can't be helped. Joe Wilson yelling "You Lie!" at the presidential address to the joint session of Congress was many things to many people. But racist? Come on. Why, Jimmy Carter, why? President Obama just wants to do his job... you are making it hard, you are his Jeremiah Wright of the moment... remember how helpful all that was? Racism is a nasty reality. There are idiots out there who don't like the fact that Barack Obama is the president, simply based on his skin color and some of those same idiots may attend the occasional tea party. But, most racists I know aren't clever enough to co-opt the taxation issue as a vehicle to promote their racist agenda. Every racist may be a tea partier, but not every tea partier is a racist. To say that the reason the whole Tea Partier crew yaps on and on about taxes and socialism and telling the government to stay out of medicare is driven primarily because they don't like having a black president is delusional (too strong, but misguided isn't strong enough) and dismissive. This amped up rhetoric doesn't serve the cause, it creates an increasingly toxic environment. You're ratcheting everything up. You are making it an us and them, and inflating the scope and breadth of the them. Were criticisms of Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice racist? I don't remember it coming up. I'm going to go out on a theoretical limb here: A white person criticizing a black person is not automatically a racist. Now, with the Birthers... you may be getting warm, but the rest of it, I'm not buying it. For all I know, Joe Wilson is an idiot and I know he likes the confederate flag (remember the South Carolina factor!) but I certainly wouldn't be able to draw the conclusion that his motives and actions are racist based on an ill-timed two-word outburst about a coverage provision in a yet to be completed health care proposal. Maybe I'm too dense to see it.
I admit, I'm sensitive to it, I was labeled a racist briefly in college at Miami. Why? I drew self-portraits of myself in my notes during a Classics 101 lecture and each had a speech bubble with me saying "Booyah." Apparently my picture was overshaded so I looked black. The guy behind me (who was African-American) must have thought these drawings were inflammatory and decided I was a racist, because he told a friend of a friend that I was. I draw a few crappy self-portraits and suddenly I'm a racist. I feel bad that my drawings upset him, but wow. A year earlier, at college in NC I had a black roommate and pretty much the only people I liked (and liked me) were black. It's a wicked word and a wicked label. Nazi is a laughable label (unless it's about a Nazi) but racist is a different brand. Words are powerful, and powerful words are more so. Use them smartly.
By the way... Judge Sotomayor... not a racist, maybe some unfortunate statements along the way, but please.
I'm going to go out on a second theoretical limb here: A man saying something stupid about a woman is not necessarily sexist. George Bush, when it was thought that Hillary would be the next president, reportedly saying "Wait until Hillary Clinton's fat ass is sitting at this desk" is stupid and offensive and without class. Dee Dee Myers, who I find normally to be a pretty reasonable person, seemed convinced that it was a sexist statement. Where? How? The former press secretary to Bill Clinton (you remember Bill Clinton, the shining example of respect toward women) is way off. Stupid, yes. Disgraceful, yes. Regrettable, yes. Everything bad, yes... except sexist. I don't see it. There is sexism, but this ain't it.
If we go down this road too far... we don't want to go down this road.
Prediction: 40% chance of a Beer Summit with Taylor Swift, Kanye West and the President within two weeks (Taylor Swift gets root beer at this one)... all because of something that happened on MTV. Oh, society, you're letting us all down.
Reflection: I propose the idea that, as a practical joke, a bunch of Republicans got together and told Joe Wilson that when the topic of covering illegal aliens came up they would all make a big stink at the address. He, of course, was the only one who spoke up. Oops! Those crazy lawmakers and their pranks.
I know I argued yesterday that this should no longer be news, but it can't be helped. Joe Wilson yelling "You Lie!" at the presidential address to the joint session of Congress was many things to many people. But racist? Come on. Why, Jimmy Carter, why? President Obama just wants to do his job... you are making it hard, you are his Jeremiah Wright of the moment... remember how helpful all that was? Racism is a nasty reality. There are idiots out there who don't like the fact that Barack Obama is the president, simply based on his skin color and some of those same idiots may attend the occasional tea party. But, most racists I know aren't clever enough to co-opt the taxation issue as a vehicle to promote their racist agenda. Every racist may be a tea partier, but not every tea partier is a racist. To say that the reason the whole Tea Partier crew yaps on and on about taxes and socialism and telling the government to stay out of medicare is driven primarily because they don't like having a black president is delusional (too strong, but misguided isn't strong enough) and dismissive. This amped up rhetoric doesn't serve the cause, it creates an increasingly toxic environment. You're ratcheting everything up. You are making it an us and them, and inflating the scope and breadth of the them. Were criticisms of Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice racist? I don't remember it coming up. I'm going to go out on a theoretical limb here: A white person criticizing a black person is not automatically a racist. Now, with the Birthers... you may be getting warm, but the rest of it, I'm not buying it. For all I know, Joe Wilson is an idiot and I know he likes the confederate flag (remember the South Carolina factor!) but I certainly wouldn't be able to draw the conclusion that his motives and actions are racist based on an ill-timed two-word outburst about a coverage provision in a yet to be completed health care proposal. Maybe I'm too dense to see it.
I admit, I'm sensitive to it, I was labeled a racist briefly in college at Miami. Why? I drew self-portraits of myself in my notes during a Classics 101 lecture and each had a speech bubble with me saying "Booyah." Apparently my picture was overshaded so I looked black. The guy behind me (who was African-American) must have thought these drawings were inflammatory and decided I was a racist, because he told a friend of a friend that I was. I draw a few crappy self-portraits and suddenly I'm a racist. I feel bad that my drawings upset him, but wow. A year earlier, at college in NC I had a black roommate and pretty much the only people I liked (and liked me) were black. It's a wicked word and a wicked label. Nazi is a laughable label (unless it's about a Nazi) but racist is a different brand. Words are powerful, and powerful words are more so. Use them smartly.
By the way... Judge Sotomayor... not a racist, maybe some unfortunate statements along the way, but please.
I'm going to go out on a second theoretical limb here: A man saying something stupid about a woman is not necessarily sexist. George Bush, when it was thought that Hillary would be the next president, reportedly saying "Wait until Hillary Clinton's fat ass is sitting at this desk" is stupid and offensive and without class. Dee Dee Myers, who I find normally to be a pretty reasonable person, seemed convinced that it was a sexist statement. Where? How? The former press secretary to Bill Clinton (you remember Bill Clinton, the shining example of respect toward women) is way off. Stupid, yes. Disgraceful, yes. Regrettable, yes. Everything bad, yes... except sexist. I don't see it. There is sexism, but this ain't it.
If we go down this road too far... we don't want to go down this road.
Prediction: 40% chance of a Beer Summit with Taylor Swift, Kanye West and the President within two weeks (Taylor Swift gets root beer at this one)... all because of something that happened on MTV. Oh, society, you're letting us all down.
Reflection: I propose the idea that, as a practical joke, a bunch of Republicans got together and told Joe Wilson that when the topic of covering illegal aliens came up they would all make a big stink at the address. He, of course, was the only one who spoke up. Oops! Those crazy lawmakers and their pranks.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
blurbs
A bad night sleep + trying out new technology the next day = certain failure
The video upload continued overnight. You see the result here now. No video.
I need the heat and humidity to end. It's not just an issue of comfort. I'm tired of the air conditioning coming on. Inside or out, I'm done listening to it. My fragile, sleep starved body is weak from the unrelenting torment of compressors and fans. Shhhhhhhhh.
I'm happy with our big fenced-in back yard, but if I were smart I would have split it in two so I could rotate play areas for recovery from mole tunneling and mole hunting. Lesson: I'm not smart.
The Ed Show on MSNBC = the Glenn Beck show on FoxNews. Both make me sad for the same reason --- they are on TV.
I still don't understand how/why Jim Cramer was the lightening rod during the financial crisis several months ago. Not that Jon Stewart didn't make some nice points and all, but one look at the Mad Money set should say it all. And if it doesn't, thirty seconds of his on air antics should. It's like lambasting a clown for bad treatment of circus animals, all circus animals, everywhere. If I can't trust the guy with the crazy sound effects and lights and buzzers and graphics to keep me informed on the health and stability of global financial markets, who can I trust?
I am sad to report that Jay Leno was still Jay Leno on his new show last night. I like the guy, but not enough to watch.
Yes, the Kanye West thing was sad and pitiful, but it was at the Video Music Awards, you know... on MTV. It can stop being news.
Yes, the Serena Williams thing was sad and pitiful, but it was part of a game - a typical disgusting display. It can stop being news.
Yes, the Joe Wilson thing was sad and pitiful, but he's from South Carolina. South Carolina, the Carolina with Mark Sanford. Yes, that Carolina. Can it stop being news? It can stop being news.
Done.
The video upload continued overnight. You see the result here now. No video.
I need the heat and humidity to end. It's not just an issue of comfort. I'm tired of the air conditioning coming on. Inside or out, I'm done listening to it. My fragile, sleep starved body is weak from the unrelenting torment of compressors and fans. Shhhhhhhhh.
I'm happy with our big fenced-in back yard, but if I were smart I would have split it in two so I could rotate play areas for recovery from mole tunneling and mole hunting. Lesson: I'm not smart.
The Ed Show on MSNBC = the Glenn Beck show on FoxNews. Both make me sad for the same reason --- they are on TV.
I still don't understand how/why Jim Cramer was the lightening rod during the financial crisis several months ago. Not that Jon Stewart didn't make some nice points and all, but one look at the Mad Money set should say it all. And if it doesn't, thirty seconds of his on air antics should. It's like lambasting a clown for bad treatment of circus animals, all circus animals, everywhere. If I can't trust the guy with the crazy sound effects and lights and buzzers and graphics to keep me informed on the health and stability of global financial markets, who can I trust?
I am sad to report that Jay Leno was still Jay Leno on his new show last night. I like the guy, but not enough to watch.
Yes, the Kanye West thing was sad and pitiful, but it was at the Video Music Awards, you know... on MTV. It can stop being news.
Yes, the Serena Williams thing was sad and pitiful, but it was part of a game - a typical disgusting display. It can stop being news.
Yes, the Joe Wilson thing was sad and pitiful, but he's from South Carolina. South Carolina, the Carolina with Mark Sanford. Yes, that Carolina. Can it stop being news? It can stop being news.
Done.
Monday, September 14, 2009
sleep, issues thereabouts
I'm currently trying to upload a larger than allowed video file to Blogger. What drives me to take such chances? It's been loading, loading, loading, loading for two hours. I assume it will, at some point, stop uploading and say the file is too big. Maybe I'll get it through. I'm a risk-taker. Luck favors the bold, and I think Blogger understands this. In the meantime, on to plan B.
The confession.
We've had our bed for a while. It was probably not that great in the first place, but it has been going down hill over the years. We've never had it on a bed frame, which, according to experts and old wives is bad for it. It is saggy and seems to keep a deep impression of our respective butts long after we leave it. Maggie leaves her mark as well, being a dense 55-60 pound napping machine. A few months ago our bed was especially uncomfortable. There was talk of a new bed. Beds are expensive. I thought that maybe we should try putting in a piece of plywood to firm it up. We rotated the mattress fairly regularly, but the general derriere location doesn't seem to change no matter how you flip, spin or twist it. But as it turns out, and I'm not sure how it turns out this way... but upon closer examination, at some point for some reason, the box spring was turned upside down. The top of a box spring is flat, solid and firm with springs for support. The bottom of a box spring is the opposite of that - a framework with no solid support network in between thin rails. Believe me, if you put a mattress on top of an upside down box spring, you get no support. I often sleep on my stomach. Imagine sleeping face down in a hammock... that's what it was like. So, this is all very sad. I would say we suffered through this for at least a couple months. "Well, it's just an old bed." How lazy. How lazy not to check it out. How accepting. How many of the seven deadly sins did we commit in this monumental display of complacency? I think we even slipped gluttony in there, somehow. Just... sorry. Sad.
Video still uploading, loading loading loading.
The confession.
We've had our bed for a while. It was probably not that great in the first place, but it has been going down hill over the years. We've never had it on a bed frame, which, according to experts and old wives is bad for it. It is saggy and seems to keep a deep impression of our respective butts long after we leave it. Maggie leaves her mark as well, being a dense 55-60 pound napping machine. A few months ago our bed was especially uncomfortable. There was talk of a new bed. Beds are expensive. I thought that maybe we should try putting in a piece of plywood to firm it up. We rotated the mattress fairly regularly, but the general derriere location doesn't seem to change no matter how you flip, spin or twist it. But as it turns out, and I'm not sure how it turns out this way... but upon closer examination, at some point for some reason, the box spring was turned upside down. The top of a box spring is flat, solid and firm with springs for support. The bottom of a box spring is the opposite of that - a framework with no solid support network in between thin rails. Believe me, if you put a mattress on top of an upside down box spring, you get no support. I often sleep on my stomach. Imagine sleeping face down in a hammock... that's what it was like. So, this is all very sad. I would say we suffered through this for at least a couple months. "Well, it's just an old bed." How lazy. How lazy not to check it out. How accepting. How many of the seven deadly sins did we commit in this monumental display of complacency? I think we even slipped gluttony in there, somehow. Just... sorry. Sad.
Video still uploading, loading loading loading.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
91309
34 56734, 294 2000867 54 5678 314 9473. 23, 2736 746 20594 50 299 5718 47823 323, 323, 845 323!!!! 78, 78, 78.
I've joined Mickey in his room. He's out of his cage and has free run of the house, but has chosen to come back to his lair and snooze by the treadmill. I wish he'd join me in the living room, but no, not tonight. He's giving me a good licking, so I guess he's ok with my unannounced visit. Face licking, leg licking, arm licking, finger licking. Ankle licking now, he can lay down and do his work. For a moment he left and I think that he is trying to avoid me, but he's returned. Licking. Now he's laying down next to me. His eyeballs continue to scan the room. Whatever fear he had ingrained in his head before we found him (or he found us) lingers, I think. He remains ever vigilant. He trusts us, but there is so much else that requires caution - primarily inanimate objects... the fan in the living room, sometimes the wall in the hallway or an electrical outlet if one of his toys hits it. The only thing he really needs a reminder about is the danger of Maggie. She is good at these brief retraining seminars, complete with powerpoint presentation (snaggle tooth sneer), inspirational speech (insane angry barking) and team building exercises (stay away from my team, get your own team, I'm gonna bite your team if you don't leave my team alone).
Sometimes you pet Mickey and he growls. A happy growl, but still, a growl. I feel that a lot of Maggie's craziness we unwittingly created. I think Mickey deserves almost full credit for what he's got going on. Dad and Mom didn't help him with this project.
I've gone canine once again, but thought it a better choice than a football recap.
Though not paying close attention these days, I see that the Yankees are tearing it up. I know most people don't like the Yankees because of George Steinbrenner and the big payroll and all the winning. Growing up a Yankee fan it was never really about that for me. I liked Bucky Dent, Willie Randolph and Craig Nettles. I even liked Rick Cerone. I was glad for the Reggie Jacksons and Dave Winfields, but I liked the scrappers, the ballplayers. There are Jeter Yankee fans and there are A-Rod Yankee fans, for what that's worth. -insert sensible transition- Later in life I became a Pirates fan, for reasons I will go into at another time. Until then, adieu,
to yieu and yieu and yieu.
I've joined Mickey in his room. He's out of his cage and has free run of the house, but has chosen to come back to his lair and snooze by the treadmill. I wish he'd join me in the living room, but no, not tonight. He's giving me a good licking, so I guess he's ok with my unannounced visit. Face licking, leg licking, arm licking, finger licking. Ankle licking now, he can lay down and do his work. For a moment he left and I think that he is trying to avoid me, but he's returned. Licking. Now he's laying down next to me. His eyeballs continue to scan the room. Whatever fear he had ingrained in his head before we found him (or he found us) lingers, I think. He remains ever vigilant. He trusts us, but there is so much else that requires caution - primarily inanimate objects... the fan in the living room, sometimes the wall in the hallway or an electrical outlet if one of his toys hits it. The only thing he really needs a reminder about is the danger of Maggie. She is good at these brief retraining seminars, complete with powerpoint presentation (snaggle tooth sneer), inspirational speech (insane angry barking) and team building exercises (stay away from my team, get your own team, I'm gonna bite your team if you don't leave my team alone). Sometimes you pet Mickey and he growls. A happy growl, but still, a growl. I feel that a lot of Maggie's craziness we unwittingly created. I think Mickey deserves almost full credit for what he's got going on. Dad and Mom didn't help him with this project.
I've gone canine once again, but thought it a better choice than a football recap.
Though not paying close attention these days, I see that the Yankees are tearing it up. I know most people don't like the Yankees because of George Steinbrenner and the big payroll and all the winning. Growing up a Yankee fan it was never really about that for me. I liked Bucky Dent, Willie Randolph and Craig Nettles. I even liked Rick Cerone. I was glad for the Reggie Jacksons and Dave Winfields, but I liked the scrappers, the ballplayers. There are Jeter Yankee fans and there are A-Rod Yankee fans, for what that's worth. -insert sensible transition- Later in life I became a Pirates fan, for reasons I will go into at another time. Until then, adieu,
to yieu and yieu and yieu.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
saturday saturday saturday
Went to work. Went to the post office. Came home. Went to the park to walk the dogs. Walked the dogs. Went to the grocery store. Came home. Watched football. Played with brown dog. Watched golf. Played with black dog. Watched football. Cooked turkey burgers. Ate turkey burgers. Watched football. Watched news. Came outside with brown dog. Sat on stoop. Began typing.
Black dog slowly stalked a mole today. The wonder dogs have been digging up a lot of ground over the last couple months trying to track down said varmint. We've got a couple old closet doors and the remnant of another door covering up the main dig sites. Those spots get muddy if not protected.
Maggie has some innate hunting skills. She is a slow stalker. If she thinks she sees the ground moving from a tunneling mole, she goes into super slo-mo mode. Slowly moving only one limb at a time, focused intently on the ground. Occasionally she strikes a classic pointer pose. If you don't pay close attention, you wouldn't know that she was moving at all. She is slow and deliberate, almost like a mime miming something really slow (best simile ever!), but without the face paint and inherent creepiness. She'll do this for minutes on end... then pounce. Her nose leads the charge followed by frantic digging. Normally she comes up empty. I assumed she had today as well, until Mickey and I went outside to play some guitar. Within a few minutes he was running away with some good-sized something in his mouth. He found our mole. Maggie had taken care of it a few hours earlier. Some dog beef jerky treats were a good enough diversion for him to give up the mole. I took a shovel and flung the little gray body into the woods. It landed on top of a small maple tree then fell a bit before getting hung up on one of the branches. I feel bad that it was just hanging there. Hopefully it dropped down in the afternoon breeze. If it's still up there tomorrow I'll have to get it on the ground. There's something undignified and morbid about it being up there, it's been through enough.
Mickey and I are on the top step of the back stairs. He's laying down. I'm sitting up. His hairless hindquarters and still bone-shaped scar are dimly lit by the computer screen. I noticed earlier that his lone white whisker is missing once again. Hopefully the empty follicle will sprout out another trademark hair. Even without it, he's still very much the quintessential Mr. Weenis. There were times today in the car where, when I looked in the rear-view mirror to check on him, all I could see was his black-tipped tail shooting straight up in the air. No doubt he was snacking on ancient crumbs and driveway sand and gravel, his snout on the floor mat and butt perched high above on his spindly springy legs. A moment later he would be curled up behind my seat. Panting. Always panting. Then back to the front seat, sitting with impossibly perfect posture. Panting. Always panting. Always looking. And sniffing. Ready. Even now on the back stairs he looks into the darkness. Looking for ancient crumbs. Looking for something new. Looking for something familiar. Always looking.
Black dog slowly stalked a mole today. The wonder dogs have been digging up a lot of ground over the last couple months trying to track down said varmint. We've got a couple old closet doors and the remnant of another door covering up the main dig sites. Those spots get muddy if not protected.
Maggie has some innate hunting skills. She is a slow stalker. If she thinks she sees the ground moving from a tunneling mole, she goes into super slo-mo mode. Slowly moving only one limb at a time, focused intently on the ground. Occasionally she strikes a classic pointer pose. If you don't pay close attention, you wouldn't know that she was moving at all. She is slow and deliberate, almost like a mime miming something really slow (best simile ever!), but without the face paint and inherent creepiness. She'll do this for minutes on end... then pounce. Her nose leads the charge followed by frantic digging. Normally she comes up empty. I assumed she had today as well, until Mickey and I went outside to play some guitar. Within a few minutes he was running away with some good-sized something in his mouth. He found our mole. Maggie had taken care of it a few hours earlier. Some dog beef jerky treats were a good enough diversion for him to give up the mole. I took a shovel and flung the little gray body into the woods. It landed on top of a small maple tree then fell a bit before getting hung up on one of the branches. I feel bad that it was just hanging there. Hopefully it dropped down in the afternoon breeze. If it's still up there tomorrow I'll have to get it on the ground. There's something undignified and morbid about it being up there, it's been through enough.
Mickey and I are on the top step of the back stairs. He's laying down. I'm sitting up. His hairless hindquarters and still bone-shaped scar are dimly lit by the computer screen. I noticed earlier that his lone white whisker is missing once again. Hopefully the empty follicle will sprout out another trademark hair. Even without it, he's still very much the quintessential Mr. Weenis. There were times today in the car where, when I looked in the rear-view mirror to check on him, all I could see was his black-tipped tail shooting straight up in the air. No doubt he was snacking on ancient crumbs and driveway sand and gravel, his snout on the floor mat and butt perched high above on his spindly springy legs. A moment later he would be curled up behind my seat. Panting. Always panting. Then back to the front seat, sitting with impossibly perfect posture. Panting. Always panting. Always looking. And sniffing. Ready. Even now on the back stairs he looks into the darkness. Looking for ancient crumbs. Looking for something new. Looking for something familiar. Always looking.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tilting at Windmills
Yet another automobile fad has been established over the last couple years. It is reminiscent of the "Baby on Board" craze and the more recent trend to put all abbreviations in an oval decal to mimic the European country of origin stickers. Right now, the cool thing to have on your SUV is a bunch of stickers representing your family and pets to share a little bit of who you are with the world. Well, we all assume that's what's going on. It may be that the soccer/hockey mom behind the wheel is just keeping track of her kills. You know, the way Pappy Boyington had rising sun stickers on his plane to keep track of the Japanese Zeros he shot down. It puts those stickers in a different light, especially when all the cartoonish characters look pretty happy. And there are the ones where everyone has on Mickey Mouse ears... pretty upsetting. Even more upsetting is that one of the kids in the picture below is called "Boogers."
Twenty years or so ago, our church youth club built a raft to race in the Roanoke River during the Festival in the Park festivities. A couple of the older guys were big into Rush at the time and felt compelled to name it the Rocinante from Cygnus X-1 (an expectedly over-elaborate two part science-fiction progressive rock musical miniseries). They could have been referencing Cervantes or Steinbeck, but they weren't. I guess they were referencing a reference, which works too. The "raft" was a pretty elaborate setup requiring a lot of welding. The vessel was a double-hulled monstrosity fabricated out of four or six 50 gallon drums and a bunch of angle iron. I remember it being spray painted a deep red. It was way, way, way, way too heavy. There may have been a paddlewheel involved. As they were painting the name on it I suggested they paint some small windmills on the side of Rocinante to commemorate our victories. I think they painted seven and a half on there.
The announcer for the race could not pronounce Rocinante, much to our dismay. As I recall, the boat performed pretty poorly. If it did indeed have a paddlewheel, it quickly failed to function soon after the race began - the crew members were left trying to paddle with their hands to keep it going. It may have, in fact, sunk. (I think the winning boat was made from a bunch of glued-together milk cartons.) Some of my memories are vivid, others are quite muddled and unreliable, which makes an honest telling of the story difficult and disjointed (if you hadn't already noticed). Somewhere Rocinante is rusting away. One such place, apparently, is in my mind.
Twenty years or so ago, our church youth club built a raft to race in the Roanoke River during the Festival in the Park festivities. A couple of the older guys were big into Rush at the time and felt compelled to name it the Rocinante from Cygnus X-1 (an expectedly over-elaborate two part science-fiction progressive rock musical miniseries). They could have been referencing Cervantes or Steinbeck, but they weren't. I guess they were referencing a reference, which works too. The "raft" was a pretty elaborate setup requiring a lot of welding. The vessel was a double-hulled monstrosity fabricated out of four or six 50 gallon drums and a bunch of angle iron. I remember it being spray painted a deep red. It was way, way, way, way too heavy. There may have been a paddlewheel involved. As they were painting the name on it I suggested they paint some small windmills on the side of Rocinante to commemorate our victories. I think they painted seven and a half on there.
The announcer for the race could not pronounce Rocinante, much to our dismay. As I recall, the boat performed pretty poorly. If it did indeed have a paddlewheel, it quickly failed to function soon after the race began - the crew members were left trying to paddle with their hands to keep it going. It may have, in fact, sunk. (I think the winning boat was made from a bunch of glued-together milk cartons.) Some of my memories are vivid, others are quite muddled and unreliable, which makes an honest telling of the story difficult and disjointed (if you hadn't already noticed). Somewhere Rocinante is rusting away. One such place, apparently, is in my mind.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
pump
I've got nothing interesting to offer this fine evening. I've spent the last few hours working on the picture below. This will not bring you any enjoyment, but it is the latest, if not the greatest, addition to the world of pumps. There you have it. I'll work up some killer new material for tomorrow, so prepare yourself to be entertained. 
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Borrrring Boooook talk
I am reading the Confessions of Max Tivoli. Not long into it... about the fourth or fifth word, I feared that I was reading about Benjamin Button. I have no desire to read about Benjamin Button. I have no plans to watch Benjamin Button. I've stuck with it. Now on page 86, I am convinced that I am not reading Benjamin Button. All that said... I think the concepts are way too similar... I never could have followed through with the story if I were Andrew Sean Greer.
I'm trying to read authors who appear on the jackets of books that I like. So far it has been with mixed results. Next up is Michael Chabon... he better not disappoint. Me. I will say for sure that Chabon's website is a big lump of a disappointment.
I've been given reading suggestions from some of you... none of which I am finding in the local 'brary. The search continues.
I've also gone with writers's's influences to find other authors. It got me Haruki Murakami (great) and also got me Muriel Sparks (the book I read was nothing special, not one of her acclaimed works... I'm left wary, very wary).
Some of the classics may get a look shortly. I feel drawn to some of the non-classics by the writers of classics. I read Moby Dick voluntarily when I was younger... and I think it is what turned me off of reading for a couple decades, so I'm going to be cautious as I venture in that direction.
Now, I have to go learn about a marxist/socialist/fascist/communist/nazi health care plan and get a primer on death panels. Bye.
I'm trying to read authors who appear on the jackets of books that I like. So far it has been with mixed results. Next up is Michael Chabon... he better not disappoint. Me. I will say for sure that Chabon's website is a big lump of a disappointment.
I've been given reading suggestions from some of you... none of which I am finding in the local 'brary. The search continues.
I've also gone with writers's's influences to find other authors. It got me Haruki Murakami (great) and also got me Muriel Sparks (the book I read was nothing special, not one of her acclaimed works... I'm left wary, very wary).
Some of the classics may get a look shortly. I feel drawn to some of the non-classics by the writers of classics. I read Moby Dick voluntarily when I was younger... and I think it is what turned me off of reading for a couple decades, so I'm going to be cautious as I venture in that direction.
Now, I have to go learn about a marxist/socialist/fascist/communist/nazi health care plan and get a primer on death panels. Bye.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Capital!
Today, continuing on the side road theme, I drove through the denim capital of the world. If I hadn't seen the sign, I wouldn't have known it. I'm not 100% sure of the title's legitimacy. I'm not even 10% sure. The only denim I saw was my pants, that's why I'm not convinced. I intend to do some research on the topic soon. But not really soon.
The challenge of the qwerty keyboard is alive and well tonight as I type with my thumbs in the backyard. The upside is that at this point my texting skills with two thumbs is not much better than my one thumb skill set, so I'm freed up to pet a lazy black dog. This is agreeable to both parties.
Tonight I saw the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time. - the tragically hip
Right now that constellation would be the great triangle. I'm waiting for Orion to return, who, as the easiest cool weather cluster to spot, is one of my favorites. Cassaeopia (spelling currently under review) is another favorite. I've never much cared for the dippers, dumbed down underlings from the Ursas . They are pedestrian and predictable. I sound like an astronomy snob, but I only know enough to make me dangerous. Which, come to think of it, most certainly classifies me as a snob - an unrefined, under-informed, denim-clad, stargazing snob... There are worse things I could be.
Yes! Lucky me just saw a shooting star. Some snobs have all the luck. Time to close it on a high note, back inside for some iced tea and a snack.
Night night.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Goat Boy
I saw a boy walking a reluctant goat.
This is why it is good to drive the back roads - you don't see boys walking goats while driving on the interstate. Drive on a road without a blue and red sign and you get a much more entertaining trip. Boys with goats. Goats with boys.
"Reluctant goat" may be redundant. A boy walking his willing goat, now that would be something to see.
No Charles Kuraltian nostalgiarama about back road Americana to be had here, just the quick mention of a boy and a goat. And why? Well, I would hope that if you saw a boy walking a goat, you'd tell me about it too. Blog unto others.
========
Correction:
Yesterday's poliblog had a word choice that needs revisiting. I was thinking that "Hillarian" Listening Tour might be could be replaced by "Hillarious" Listening Tour depending on my mood. Thoughts or concerns can be directed toward the editor.
Reflection:
I appreciate people reading what I write. I think reading offers a sense of accomplishment and activity for the reader that other media do not offer. Do you feel that you're actively doing anything when watching a movie or listening to a song? I don't. Sometimes a song can grab you and affect you, but it doesn't need you like the written word does. The word-reader relationship has a unique dynamic all its own. Bloglas McBlogland does not take that to as deep a level as some, but there is a relationship of which you (reader) are a part. Go team!
Did I mention I saw a boy walking a reluctant goat?
This is why it is good to drive the back roads - you don't see boys walking goats while driving on the interstate. Drive on a road without a blue and red sign and you get a much more entertaining trip. Boys with goats. Goats with boys.
"Reluctant goat" may be redundant. A boy walking his willing goat, now that would be something to see.
No Charles Kuraltian nostalgiarama about back road Americana to be had here, just the quick mention of a boy and a goat. And why? Well, I would hope that if you saw a boy walking a goat, you'd tell me about it too. Blog unto others.
========
Correction:
Yesterday's poliblog had a word choice that needs revisiting. I was thinking that "Hillarian" Listening Tour might be could be replaced by "Hillarious" Listening Tour depending on my mood. Thoughts or concerns can be directed toward the editor.
Reflection:
I appreciate people reading what I write. I think reading offers a sense of accomplishment and activity for the reader that other media do not offer. Do you feel that you're actively doing anything when watching a movie or listening to a song? I don't. Sometimes a song can grab you and affect you, but it doesn't need you like the written word does. The word-reader relationship has a unique dynamic all its own. Bloglas McBlogland does not take that to as deep a level as some, but there is a relationship of which you (reader) are a part. Go team!
Did I mention I saw a boy walking a reluctant goat?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Debate Rebate
The lasting effect of the 2000 presidential election is that from now on there will be groups who claim the sitting president is illegitimate. "Birthers" are simply the latest (and lamest) version.
Obama got elected to office by convincing everyone that he would change the tone and the way business is done in Washington. Thus far his strategy to accomplish this has been to let congress try to solve things. Please, please, please... grab the wheel, grab the reigns, grab something and articulate some renewed sense of direction. Do it Wednesday. Good, bad or indifferent - left, right and/or center, make your case. The recess has been a mess, perhaps just democracy in action with all its flaws, warts and smells, but these congress people have been out defending or attacking undefined goals and legislation. I would have preferred an Hillarian (Clintonian is taken already) listening tour to the town halls... it may have been more productive and less destructive. Pulling the plug and death panels have defined the debate... how could such a well-oiled message machine that put Barack in office be so absent and impotent now? "We've got to fix health care" is a little too broad, really. Policy! Define and enact. Simple, but not easy.
Why Afghanistan and foreign policy in general is hard for us: Ideologues on both sides can't accept that democracy shouldn't be on the fast track everywhere, whether accomplished by force or reasonable discourse. Americans don't understand it. I don't understand it, and I don't like it, but I'm pretty sure it's the case. I think this goes back to our youth and naivety (or naivete, si vous preferez) as a nation. It's a noble perspective to have but doesn't make for easy, clear cut decision-making (do you think China grapples with foreign policy issues like we do... I don't think so). Still, decisions are required. We've lost the definition of our goals in Afghanistan, much like the ever-shifting mission in Iraq. I wouldn't want to make these choices, but some tough ones need be made. Policy! Define and enact. Not so simple, not so easy.
Whew, I think I'm all over the place. I'm not arguing for Obama to take any certain position here, just to take a position. Then, and only then, we can argue about the merits. Debate about floating generalities is a waste of energy and inevitably leads to partisan rancor and town hall madness. Though, without the town hall meetings, we all would have missed out on Barney Frank saying, "Trying to have a conversation with you would be like trying to argue with a dining room table... I have no interest in doing it."
Some good did come of the recess after all.
If I was to have a conversation with a dining room table it would be with one made by George Nakashima. Always cool stuff, butterfly dovetail keys, big freeform shape made of walnut and a variation on the Conoid Chair with solid back to sit in while talking to the table. Yeah, that would be all right.
Obama got elected to office by convincing everyone that he would change the tone and the way business is done in Washington. Thus far his strategy to accomplish this has been to let congress try to solve things. Please, please, please... grab the wheel, grab the reigns, grab something and articulate some renewed sense of direction. Do it Wednesday. Good, bad or indifferent - left, right and/or center, make your case. The recess has been a mess, perhaps just democracy in action with all its flaws, warts and smells, but these congress people have been out defending or attacking undefined goals and legislation. I would have preferred an Hillarian (Clintonian is taken already) listening tour to the town halls... it may have been more productive and less destructive. Pulling the plug and death panels have defined the debate... how could such a well-oiled message machine that put Barack in office be so absent and impotent now? "We've got to fix health care" is a little too broad, really. Policy! Define and enact. Simple, but not easy.
Why Afghanistan and foreign policy in general is hard for us: Ideologues on both sides can't accept that democracy shouldn't be on the fast track everywhere, whether accomplished by force or reasonable discourse. Americans don't understand it. I don't understand it, and I don't like it, but I'm pretty sure it's the case. I think this goes back to our youth and naivety (or naivete, si vous preferez) as a nation. It's a noble perspective to have but doesn't make for easy, clear cut decision-making (do you think China grapples with foreign policy issues like we do... I don't think so). Still, decisions are required. We've lost the definition of our goals in Afghanistan, much like the ever-shifting mission in Iraq. I wouldn't want to make these choices, but some tough ones need be made. Policy! Define and enact. Not so simple, not so easy.
Whew, I think I'm all over the place. I'm not arguing for Obama to take any certain position here, just to take a position. Then, and only then, we can argue about the merits. Debate about floating generalities is a waste of energy and inevitably leads to partisan rancor and town hall madness. Though, without the town hall meetings, we all would have missed out on Barney Frank saying, "Trying to have a conversation with you would be like trying to argue with a dining room table... I have no interest in doing it."
Some good did come of the recess after all.
If I was to have a conversation with a dining room table it would be with one made by George Nakashima. Always cool stuff, butterfly dovetail keys, big freeform shape made of walnut and a variation on the Conoid Chair with solid back to sit in while talking to the table. Yeah, that would be all right.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Saturday Indulgence
Bear with me as I report on sport with this sports report.Thoughts, statements, fragments and moments as seen through orange-colored glasses by a man in an orange-colored shirt.
Over 45,000 in attendance. First snap in the shotgun for SU clears Greg Paulus by at least ten feet. That snap would have been good from fifty yards out. Team gets down 14-3 early. Battles back. Defense plays inspired...uh ... defense. Tackles are made on ball carriers. Team scores points. SU leads at halftime. Defense stays tough in second half, allows some big pass plays, but only gives up field goals. Over the last four years, SU has been no better than 101st in defense, they were much improved today. Paulus, who was touted for his smarts, showed it on all but the last play, an unnecessarily risky throw into the end zone that was picked off in overtime. He got away with a couple other balls that should have been intercepted. He had two or three drops on third downs in the second half that would have kept drives alive and may have lead to a score that may have won the game which would have lead my post today to simply be TITLE: 'cuse wins BODY: 'cuse wins LABELS: 'cuse wins. Normally, Syracuse burns all of it's timeouts in the first quarter... on first down plays, after tv timeouts, while on defense (and those are not the three ways they do it, it is a full description of each timeout event). Today, they only had one disorganized moment where they had to waste one. There were false starts and some holds, but nothing as ugly as the last several years have produced. If there had been no halftime break, I think Syracuse would have won by ten, but the halftime adjustments by Minnesota killed the Orange flow and resulted in the loss and the current sorrow that now clouds around me like a dark, damp sorrow cloud.
Grades:
Overall: 98 - They played with heart and intensity.
Defense: B+ (Much improved - good tackling - two takeaways - need better pass rush - linebackers, not just safeties, need to make some tackles)
Offense: 3/5 stars (Resilient - good play calling - running backs are solid - O-line not as dreadful as usual - terrible on third down (see drops) - skill players made plays, someone needed to step up and make one more - Paulus looks ok, needs a little more pocket patience, but you can't blame him too much for bailing out early)
Special teams: Satisfactory (punting game was so-so - freshman kicker hit 2/2 fg's - one big return, otherwise, not much spark, no game changers - coverage was fair on all but one kick)
Next week they go to Happy Valley. Not going to be pretty... Penn State is ranked #9, but it should be watchable. It shall be watched.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
"The windows can stay open tonight, hopefully the fans will create enough white noise that the canine sleeping team won't hear their friends and enemies barking in the distance...which triggers the bark alarm which triggers the be quiet, dogs alarm which triggers the bad night's sleep alarm."
All too true last night. The fan was on low and white noise was not sufficient. Some distant dog found something to warn the neighborhood about at 3am. Our dynamic duo let rip with some fierce barking to pass on the message. Luckily I was able to fall back asleep. Unfortunately the refalling asleep happened more than three hours later. Don't feel sorry for me... I've got it covered.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, may officially be my least favorite phrase, especially when altered to be What happens in (insert anything) stays in (insert same anything). I'm not sure what the process is to make it official, but I'm ready to sign on the dotted line, attach my seal and get it notarized. But, I hand it to the tourism crew out there for finding a catch phrase that is pervasive, invasive and possibly persuasive. I still prefer "Wha happened?" But that is probably more suited to Peoria, IL or Richmond, IN.
Syracuse game starts in fifteen hours. Huzzah.
At 9:00pm brown dog shuts down. Curls up on the couch starts his night's sleep. He's game to get up and run outside or play and tug and wrestle in an instant, but he's pretty well conditioned to call it at nine if nothing more exciting is in the offing. He's pretty relieved when you ask him if he wants to get in house, formally ending the day. He's come a long way, baby. Once a scared biting little menace, now (at this moment anyway) a creature in a peaceful state of snooze. Love the dog. Love the ridiculous brown dog.
All too true last night. The fan was on low and white noise was not sufficient. Some distant dog found something to warn the neighborhood about at 3am. Our dynamic duo let rip with some fierce barking to pass on the message. Luckily I was able to fall back asleep. Unfortunately the refalling asleep happened more than three hours later. Don't feel sorry for me... I've got it covered.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, may officially be my least favorite phrase, especially when altered to be What happens in (insert anything) stays in (insert same anything). I'm not sure what the process is to make it official, but I'm ready to sign on the dotted line, attach my seal and get it notarized. But, I hand it to the tourism crew out there for finding a catch phrase that is pervasive, invasive and possibly persuasive. I still prefer "Wha happened?" But that is probably more suited to Peoria, IL or Richmond, IN.
Syracuse game starts in fifteen hours. Huzzah.
At 9:00pm brown dog shuts down. Curls up on the couch starts his night's sleep. He's game to get up and run outside or play and tug and wrestle in an instant, but he's pretty well conditioned to call it at nine if nothing more exciting is in the offing. He's pretty relieved when you ask him if he wants to get in house, formally ending the day. He's come a long way, baby. Once a scared biting little menace, now (at this moment anyway) a creature in a peaceful state of snooze. Love the dog. Love the ridiculous brown dog.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
RuT RoH 2
I was all prepared for tonight's offering to be exclusive video footage of the storied and cherished version referenced by Blogadier General (See comment in "Comment Section", September 2 post RuT RoH. Sadly, the only Coalition video of RTRH is from the first garage concert, which was played early in the first set. And the first was the worst. The taping of the second garage concert was cut short due to short battery life, and the "good" version of RTRH went un-videod. More precisely, it was cut short because none of us were savvy enough to think to plug the video camera in, rather than using the battery. Learning this important AC-DC lesson was both a blessing and a curse during the Coalition's 1994 World Tour. The blessing was that all shows were taped start to finish. The curse was that all shows were taped start to finish, and available for review. Post show analysis was a lot like football coaches grading game film and seeing who did what and how well. If I remember correctly, we generally graded out pretty poorly. And I assure you, I remember correctly.
All of which leads me to nothing else of substance. I am tired. I will retire and read me some novel, which currently is Any Human Heart by William Boyd, about which I have mixed feelings. The title sounds like a Hallmark Channel Original Movie, happily it doesn't read that way.
I slap black dog on the butt and give a scratch or two. She pants then slumps away to her corner behind the IKEA chair. One of those chairs with the curved wood and matching ottoman. We've got the black cushions on it. She'll curl up on the ottoman or in the chair during the day and pretty much disappear. But sometimes you can still smell her. She continues to pant. Another day is in the books.
All of which leads me to nothing else of substance. I am tired. I will retire and read me some novel, which currently is Any Human Heart by William Boyd, about which I have mixed feelings. The title sounds like a Hallmark Channel Original Movie, happily it doesn't read that way.
I slap black dog on the butt and give a scratch or two. She pants then slumps away to her corner behind the IKEA chair. One of those chairs with the curved wood and matching ottoman. We've got the black cushions on it. She'll curl up on the ottoman or in the chair during the day and pretty much disappear. But sometimes you can still smell her. She continues to pant. Another day is in the books.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Feevuh
Playoff Fever.
That's what I'd have if if I lived in a town with a minor league team about to go to their league's playoffs. But, no team and no playoffs means, you guessed it, I don't have playoff fever. My commitment this year to see more minor league baseball was a rousing mixed bag. By my count I went to four games. Four different cities. Three different leagues. Probably the biggest thwarter of increased baseball action was a rerouted and rescheduled trip to Ohio. I had devised a plan to see a game on the way to Akron, a game in Akron and then a game on the way back. Driving turned to flying, killing the to and from games. Then flying turned to delayed flying, which did away with the remaining option. At least the planning was there. Next year I'll plan to have more success.
Fall Fever.
I have this. Cloudy again today, never made it out of the 70's. Actually a chill in the air this morning. 60's tonight. So good. Autummmmmmmmmn mmmmm good. Just opened all the windows and put the ceiling fans on high to air out the summer stink. Recirculated dog smell needs to decirculate and exit, forthwith. The windows can stay open tonight, hopefully the fans will create enough white noise that the canine sleeping team won't hear their friends and enemies barking in the distance. Another risk of the open window is that some scent will waft in from a wandering cat or other passing critter setting off the nose alarm which triggers the bark alarm which triggers the be quiet, dogs alarm which triggers the bad night's sleep alarm.
*****
As I sit outside under mosquito attack, it occurs to me that there has never been a mosquito cast as villain in any comic. Or more precisely, any comic I can recall. A quick Googling offers nothing of substance. I see a mosquito as bad guy in the Super Mario Brothers video game, but that's about it. It seems like a near universal pest, I wonder why it hasn't cracked through to the mainstream. Mosquito - carrier of disease, ruiner of picnics, nuisance of the mountain hike, buzzer of ears, drawer of blood. Is it too easy? That hasn't stopped anyone before. Even the Tick made it... hmmm. Interesting. Or not.
That's what I'd have if if I lived in a town with a minor league team about to go to their league's playoffs. But, no team and no playoffs means, you guessed it, I don't have playoff fever. My commitment this year to see more minor league baseball was a rousing mixed bag. By my count I went to four games. Four different cities. Three different leagues. Probably the biggest thwarter of increased baseball action was a rerouted and rescheduled trip to Ohio. I had devised a plan to see a game on the way to Akron, a game in Akron and then a game on the way back. Driving turned to flying, killing the to and from games. Then flying turned to delayed flying, which did away with the remaining option. At least the planning was there. Next year I'll plan to have more success.
Fall Fever.
I have this. Cloudy again today, never made it out of the 70's. Actually a chill in the air this morning. 60's tonight. So good. Autummmmmmmmmn mmmmm good. Just opened all the windows and put the ceiling fans on high to air out the summer stink. Recirculated dog smell needs to decirculate and exit, forthwith. The windows can stay open tonight, hopefully the fans will create enough white noise that the canine sleeping team won't hear their friends and enemies barking in the distance. Another risk of the open window is that some scent will waft in from a wandering cat or other passing critter setting off the nose alarm which triggers the bark alarm which triggers the be quiet, dogs alarm which triggers the bad night's sleep alarm.
*****
As I sit outside under mosquito attack, it occurs to me that there has never been a mosquito cast as villain in any comic. Or more precisely, any comic I can recall. A quick Googling offers nothing of substance. I see a mosquito as bad guy in the Super Mario Brothers video game, but that's about it. It seems like a near universal pest, I wonder why it hasn't cracked through to the mainstream. Mosquito - carrier of disease, ruiner of picnics, nuisance of the mountain hike, buzzer of ears, drawer of blood. Is it too easy? That hasn't stopped anyone before. Even the Tick made it... hmmm. Interesting. Or not.
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