02 December 2014

Keeping the stiff upper lip

Or not as the case may be. I used to have a really really dumb cell phone. You could set reminders in it, and then set for “remind me again in: (hh/mm). , for (time limits).

I set it up to prompt me with messages like “Cheer up motherfucker”, or “Smile dammit, it doesn't hurt that much”.

Sometimes it would go off when I was dealing with an obstreperous type. I would say “pardon me”, turn to the side, and read the message. Some fuckwits would demand “WHAT'S SO DAMN IMPORTANT”, and I would show that person the message.

Truly is it written that a soft voice turneth away anger. Every rant against me was stopped, but more important it was a random reminder to me, 'cause that's why I set it up. Can't figure how to do that on my current phone (not a dumb phone, not a smart phone).

There's probably an app for that now, but I like mine better.

Habit I Didn't Realize I Had

Conversion factors. Inches to centimeters, miles to kilometers, pounds to kilos, and the other way too. I just do 'em in my head, bounce 'em back and forth. And fractions to decimal. No wizardry, just to 2 decimal places, working estimate kinda range.


I mean, doesn't EVERYBODY do this? 3 meters is 9'9”, right? 10 CM is 4 inches, right? 40 KPH is 25 MPH in real money? I just do it, allee timee. Remember that 1/7 is pretty much 0.14 and all the rest is gravy! I mean, what's so hard about this? A meter's 3 foot and a quarter. Every 4 meters multiply by 3 and add 1. This is not rocket surgery. Most of the time you don't have to be too accurate. Peso is 12 to the dollar? Call 80 Pesos a buck, less a bit (4cents, not a “2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits a dollar” bit). 12.5, you're dead on, 13 P/$ it's $1.04 in real money. This within rounding error, or as I think of it, sales tax margin. If you're buying real estate or jet planes...fuggit. You're already paying accountants and tax specialists, and they're doing rocket surgery.

But don 't bother with temperature conversions. There's “too damn hot I'm staying in the A/C”, “I'm sweating like a pig but this yard isn't gonna mow itself”, “God the pool looks lovely”, “Lovely day innit?”, “Football season already?”, “Too damn cold, but these leaves aren't gonna rake themselves”, and “Too damn cold I'm gonna stay in side in the warm”. Some effete wimps use shorts v. sweaters as a metric. For that matter I understand that the name of the band“3 Dog Night” comes from an aboriginal American metric for “Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey”, which in turn has to do with iron cannonballs and brass trays, and the relative expansion in cold. No monkeys were hurt in the making of this post.

Scary thought

Reading http://www.thebangswitch.com/its-not-about-safety-its-about-control-and-confiscation/ , it came to my mind that almost all gun control laws begin with control of “Military and Law Enforcement” type weapons. This would mean, in effect, all firearms chambered for “mil spec/LEO” rounds.

Am I alone in seeing this as reason for the .gov to keep switching calibers? Ban .38 Special, .357 Mag.,45ACP, 9x19, .40 cal and 10mm handguns? They're all traditional LEO rounds. And 5.56 and the virtual equivalent .223 Rem, as well as 7.62/.308, 30.06, .338 Lapua, .300 Win Mag and .50BMG?

Just spit-balling here, but there is historical precedent

03 November 2014

Downfallenboomengoen

That's German for “fall down go boom”. Got a neat bruise on the right bicep, just above the elbow, A cute set of bruises on the head, with a moderate concussion. As the cherry on the top , a cracked sternum Nice.

That means, Amy, no hugs or jokes.

Aspirin, Mucinex, antihistamines for the duration. (Why the Mucinex and benedryl? Hurts like bugger-all to cough.) Imma be sluggish for the next undefined while.

Bunch of stuff I finally got around to posting below.

Farewell Dusty Steed

I last saw you in the parking garage of M.D. Anderson Professional Building on the 16th of October. I felt certain that you were safe, some 10 yards from a guard kiosk, with the lock through rear wheel and frame, in a sturdy bike rack, but no.

When I returned from my visit to my girlfriend, you were gone.

I remember when we first met. You had been abandoned, shackled to a gas meter behind an apartment building, you tires rotted, your saddle sodden but unworn. Your old master had been sick, you see, and could no longer care for you. “Take him, please, with my blessings” he told me.

And I replaced your perished rubber. I oiled your chain and packed your bearings. I got you a proud new saddle of bright yellow which looked oh so fine with your dark green classic Schwinn chrome-moly frame. “Suburban” said one sticker, and “Made in USA” proclaimed another.

We were neither of us young. You were a product of the 80s, when it was still possible to be a 5 speed and proud . You disdained to be fettered with a rack, leaving only the mounting bracket affixed within your rear brake bolts. My neglecting to re-install the bolts on your down-tube probably caused you some pains in the bottom bracket on winter mornings, but you never complained.

But your handlebars! Remember when they were so broad and flat that we couldn't get between parked cars? Then I took the sawzall and trimmed them, and moved the brakes and shifter and grips? And then we could dance, my old friend, moving with precision and speed. Moving confidently through combat with the motor vehicles, and passing the posers all outfitted on the bike paths.

I miss you, my dusty steed.

October in Houston

The Bayou City, Space City, Where 17 Railroads meet the Sea. Home of the 8th wonder of the World (the Astrodome), and the world's largest Medical Center. Fuck near 1k square miles. Keeps getting bigger. Circumscribed by Loop 610 in the late 60s. By the Tollway in the 80, by the beltway in the 90s and still expanding.

I don't live in the heart of the city, but well inside the thoracic cavity. Imagine the city of Houston as a patient etherised n the table, with urinary catheter discharging to Galveston Bay. I'm in the upper right lung. Nice neighborhood, to tell the truth, the Corps of Engineers dredged and lined the bayou there for flood control purposes but I can go to the banks and see coyotes and ospreys, Great Blue Herons and their lesser kin, anhingas and wood ducks. A buddy a few mile upstream swears he saw a family of white-tail deer coming down to the water, but they might have been from a golf course. Carp, scooters, snappers and I swear to GOD once an alligator. All of this within a quarter mile of my place.

Turn the other direction, though, and I have a big freeway. Not really really close, about a mile and a half. Not a really really big freeway, but broad enough to attract redlining riceburnering crotchrockets loud enough to set off car alarms in my neighborhood. Soon it will turn chilly, and they will drive their girlfriends cars to work because they haven't discovered glove technology.

Ah, October, the time of High School football and even worse High School Homecomings which allow the flower merchants to squeak by by selling cheap mums dyed in unlikely colors. Usually co-ordinated with class reunions, those monuments to embarrassment.

The smell of smoke on the air is still barbecue. No-one in Houston uses a wood-burning fireplace as anything other than an affectation, a symbol. Most people with fireplaces will actually turn up the AC to give a bit of verisimilitude. Makes for expensive s'mores

Some trees turn colors, though. Mostly the Chinese Tallow, an introduced species with useless wood for burning or for construction, and sweetgum, which is good for both. The pecans drop their fruit, but first the fibrous husks so desired by meat smokers. (Use some hardware cloth, or just foil, to build a cradle to hold the husks over the heat source, and smoke pork loins stuffed with apple slices, or corned beef brisket. Fire at “infinite patience” setting, or if you prefer “fraction of eternity”. Low and slow, that's the ticket, and you can use the ones gnawed by squirrels, too. I love you too.)

Good time to go out birding, too. It's starting to get cold up there in Canadiastan. Find some cranes; Whooping or Sandhill, they're both beautiful. Want a good cheap hobby? $10 for a cheap set of binoculars and $40 for a new copy of Peterson's Field Guide to the Birds of North America. More local versions are available: “Texas” is the one I keep. Look for it in your local used bookshop. Mark one eyeball is good too. That's how I spotted the American Bittern (The American Bittern will be at rest with its beak pointed at the sky and with a skinny neck and body such that it resembles a cat-tail reed. I mean it really does look like a cat-tail reed. It was a quarter beat late on the wind at Brazos Bend State Park. Low voice to all: from broken willow branch at 2 o clock, Now down 6 feet. See it now?). You can garner a respectable Life List inside the city limits, and a world-slass Life List without driving more than an hour.

You don't believe me? Talk to the head groundskeeper of your nearest golf course.

Get your bag limit on migratory ducks and geese. Protip: move at least 5 miles from nearest golf course. Srsly. Taste horrible, and buttermilk won't cut it.

Them animals ain't dumb, although they are speech inpared. Reptiles will be a bit more aggressive. Alligators especially

Fall is the time to fatten up: Reptiles, birds, and mammals. This is when you'll see foxes and coyotes on your golf course going after captive ducks and geese (you did know that some have their wings trimmed to keep them as nature status symbols? Even swans, in some areas0. Turtles have some good eating on them if you can figure out how to peel them. Worse than M&Ms, I tell you.


Secondhand smoke



Once upon a time there was a peaceful but rich city called Houston. It was the hub of an airline called “Branniff”. There was a hotel called the Shamrock.

The hotel had many famous bars, some of which were in the pool area, where rich men were known to take the waters.

It was also the hotel used by the airlines to domicile the workers in transit,and was also the preferred hotel for rich dudes, since at that time only rich dudes could fly.

A stewardess was once rebuked, hearing “OMG your hair smells of tobacco smoke”.

So she had to go wash her hair before trying to pick up rich guys, and therefore the native beauties (and oh god do we have some....)This meant that she couldn't fuck the rich guy. Because someone else got there first.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason that there is the entire “secondhand smoke” bullshit.

SNAP

Supplemental Nutritional Aid Program.

Yes, I get it. I use it to buy food. Beans, rice, tuna, milk, butter, fruits and veg. I buy a lot of frozen, 'cause it's cheaper than fresh and cooks up just about the same. But I cook.

Come over to my place and you might get paella,

Dood, I know what that costs at a restaurant!

But it's cheap food. “Paella” is from “Para Ella” which means “for her” which means the maid's take-away. This is leftovers and to tell you the truth I do a damn good paella and I get sick of it.

And you know what? Paella ain't nothing but dirty rice, which turns into Creole Gumbo with some tomato sauce...

The woman who grew up to be my ex wife decided she liked me when I went into her kitchen. “There's nothing here to eat” she said, and then I made a nice pasta with ham and peas in an Alfredo. Nothing to eat?

I admit that I am not the average consumer of food. I've been a professional chef (but not at the time above referenced). I didn't learn from my mother or from my grandmother.

I taught myself, just as I taught myself to play guitar. I want something that tastes like this. At the age of 14 I was doing the special dinners for the family (OMG! The Bishop's coming! Cook something good!) and then taking my flattop off to a bar and playing for free beer (I wanna have something that sounds like this!).

But there's stuff I can't get with SNAP.

Toilet paper.

Soap.

Laundry supplies

Stuff my girlfriend needs when she comes to visit.

OTC meds. e.g. Aspirin and antihistamines.




So Who's A Boomer

Ah, the Summer of Love. I remember it it well. That's when my babysitter would bring her boyfriend over, listen to some records, smoke some funny cigarettes, tell me it was bedtime, and then make funny noises. Well, maybe I don't remember it all that well.

But I'm still considered a “Boomer” . To which I say “Horseshit”. The Evil Lady of Evil Sarah Hoyt (Evil be upon her)wrote about this conundrum a few months ago.

I'm Generation ?. Missed the free love and nekkid dancing in the mud at Woodstock. You know what? All the folks that did that are well into Social Security now, but if you watch TV all the VietNam vets are portrayed as late 30s to early 50s. So very wrong.

Wanna see a vet from 'Nam? John McCain, that old fart. John Ketchup Kerry, that old fraud.

Those are the vets, and that's their age. There is a terrible nostalgia working here. A longing for a period when they thought they made a difference, but didn't. Lil' Bobby Dylan wrote “Forever Young” for his kid, not for you. (Have you seen a recent pic of him?) Take your polished aluminum Jerry Jeff Walkers outside. Fight amongst yourselves in the alley, and wait for the VA to pick you up.

The bartender has better things to do

Tele-Fun

Mild version

(Phone rings, I answer): Hello

Unidentified caller: Is this (name goes here)?

Self: I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name

Caller: I'm Poor Sumdood who has no morals, with BillCollecting Inc.

Self: Well I hope you find the sonofabitch. He took off a couple months ago and left me here with our 5 kids and 3 Rottweilers, and on top of that I have to feed the Rotties first or they'll eat the children, and SNAP benefits don't cover dogfood so I have to feed them raw meat so the children don't get any and...

Caller: Hangs up

(Works best if you are in fact a woman or at least can do a credible WhiteTrash FemVoice.)

Over the Top Gay versions are fun, too:

Self: OOOOOH that SCAMP! You just see what happens when he gets home! That BITCH! We traveled all the way to Vermont to have the ceremony so his family could be there, and this is the way he treats me. I should go back to New Orleans (you know I moved there from Boise) but the humidity and the youth gangs, I mean youth is all very well in its place, but...

Caller: Hangs up

Very Dangerous:

Self: No I do not know of the person of whom you are talking about (hand over phone: He has betrayed us! He left his cell phone with GPS! The DHS is closing in! Everybody lock and load! Allahu Snackbar!) I'm sorry, perhaps you have reached a wrong number. (Death to the Infidel), hang up, notify neighbors to evacuate, wait for SWAT team, make home video.

Caller: Hangs up, calls DHS

Come on kids, work up your own, and remember, this could be avoided by saying “Hi, I'm (name goes here) with (Other name goes here).





Vay-Cay

That's what the Preznit of the USA is doing, but he's doing it wrong. He should be spending it with his peers, that is the other Presidents of the USA. Let his spend the heat of August in Georgia swinging a hammer with Jimmy Carter in the Georgia heat.

Go visit George W. in the the beautiful Texas Hill Country. That's an eco-friendly house, too, geothermal heating and cooling, greywater recycling, all that Green stuff. Ride a horse, not a sissy bike. (Not all bikes are sissy bikes.) Tag along with W when he tells the Secret Squirrels he wants to go to the airport to just say Hi and Thanks, and if you leak this your ass is back in DC.

Do some work that breaks a sweat and builds calluses, and freak out the world by going to Harbor Freight and getting the 5 pair for $8 leather palm work gloves because dammit every time I need a pair I can't find the fuckers. Drink some Iron City, some Narragansett, some Shiner. Break a sweat for crissakes, but I'll still let you complain that “Well,that's 3 strokes off my golf game”. Shit, visit Willie Nelson and play on his personal private 3 hole golf course, and keep a copy of the course rules. (They are funny, and I hate golf). Hit Kennebunkport and try out the par3s there with GHWB. Do it for time, not form, like the old man does.

You know what you'd be doing? You could be latching on to the combined wisdom of some other guys who know just how hard the job is. You'd be looking as if you gave a shit. You'd save the taxpayers tens of millions of dollars, because you'd just be deadheading on the existing Presidential Protective Service.

But, no. You insist on hiding out at a cost of well over a million dollars per day in salaries alone for your retinue to hang out in an echo chamber. I never thought you were really Irish , Mister O'Bama., but you're really open handed with the OPM (Other People's Money) and word is that you're a really lousy tipper, too.

15 October 2014

Y

crmosone:

Little Stevie Winwood: 

By the windy city:


:By the old school: 



And a personal fave, Grand Funk: 

Gonna strut like a cock until I'm 99

09 October 2014

Scary thought


Reading http://www.thebangswitch.com/its-not-about-safety-its-about-control-and-confiscation/ , it came to my mind that almost all gun control laws begin with control of “Military and Law Enforcement” type weapons. This would mean, in effect, all firearms chambered for “mil spec/LEO” rounds.

Am I alone in seeing this as reason for the .gov to keep switching calibers? Ban .38 Special, .357 Mag.,45ACP, 9x19, .40 cal and 10mm handguns? They're all traditional LEO rounds. And 5.56 and the virtual equivalent .223 Rem, as well as 7.62/.308, 30.06, .338 Lapua, .300 Win Mag and .50BMG?

Just spit-balling here, but there is historical precedent

08 October 2014

Why

is the protocol to address a former occupant of the Oval Office as “Mr President”?

I know some college professors who insist on being addressed as “Doctor”, and I understand that. Worked hard for it and so on. I also know just about as many who say “Call me Jack”. I also know more than enough 2 PhD couples where “Dr Smith” gets both heads out of the pasta to say “Huh” at the spaghetti dinner. I even know some few who say “Don't call me doctor, I'm not a physician”. I admit that I am older than most students by a decade or so. OK, maybe 3.

Retired military are a touchy subject. Old friend D. S,(PhD, Col. USMC) is Colonel to his students. Once a Marine, always a Marine. I respect that. My brother's friend M. D. is PhD, MD, and Col, USAF. Two of a kind beats one high card, I guess. The late Mike F. was Col USAF and PhD but went with Colonel, but he was faculty at the AF Academy. I can dig it.

But winning a popularity contest? OK, a VERY LARGE popularity contest while being pampered like a show poodle and managed like a high school horse? Is Vanessa Williams (exemlum gratia) still addressed as “Miss America”?

30 September 2014

More Frequently Confused Words That Piss Me Off

Pallet is moved with a forklift
Pallette are moved my an artist
Palate is where the sense of taste is perceived, also the sense of taste, as a synedoche

e.g. “The artist moved a pallet-load of pallettes to his studio, but despite all the efforts of his girlfriend, the palate was still wooden”

Reins control a horse, and I don't care if the pony's name is Princess
Reigns control dynasties, even if they are pony Princesspalities*
Rain falls from the sky, upon the wicked and the just (It's in the bible. Or Shakespere.)

e.g “the reigning king lost his reins in the rain. Humpty Dumpty, cleanup in aisle 6”

And who can overlook: “There's none of their stuff there”

    a Prince rules a Principality, a Dule rules a Duchy, a Baron a Barony, a Count a County, a Bishop a City, a Priest a Parish. Is this so difficult? Jeez, kid nowadays.

Peddle mean to sell
Pedal is to cause something to move by operation of (epynomous) pedals
Paddles serve a similar function in water
e.g. “Paul peddles pedal powered paddle boats.”

Medal is an honor or decoration awardes for an accomplishment
Metal a material with certain atomic and structural characteristice
Mettle is dedication strength and or endurance

e.g. “Steve showed his mettle, keeping the pedal to the metal, winning the gold medal.”

Damn, I could carry this on for weeks.

Contra ACA

We've got to understand the lack of limits on the ACA, also known as Obamacare. There was never any intention of anything less than the institution of a National Health system on the British model, and there has never been any intention of it's being anything other than a nationwide behavior control program.

As instituted in the UK, the smokers, drinkers, and fatties are being denied health service. The turgid cries of “Health Dangers” have come very close to banning my French Chef's knives, not to mention my 115 year old Mauser in my closet.

The point I'm trying to make here is that once healthcare becomes trump,all other rights vanish.

I am a lifelong believer in the right to stoopid. You want to be stoopid, please go right ahead and be my guest. I'm here to help. You descend into terminal stoopid, I'll do what I can, and so will my friends, my neighbors, and my parish, to help your survivors. It's the way of our people, and by “people”I mean “humans”.

Yes, there are degrees and exceptions, and I'm not going to get into those at this time.

The point I'm trying to make is that once the healthcare of America is subject to the rule of those who “know better” there is no right that will withstand scrutiny.

There's a set of PSAs (Public Service Announcements) being run on radio stations now: “Know the Contents of Your Medicine Cabinet'. The National Healthcare Database” means that any cop who wants can intrude. Not for any presumed misuse of fun drugs, but because you have kids. Or had https://www.google.com/search?q=foster+children+killed+by+cops&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a some disease which indicated painkillers. Possibility of addiction, y'know

Maybe you're just a sloppy eater. Need some good carbon tetrachloride spot lifter (can you still buy it? I get mine na levo from a friend with a chain of dry cleaners).

And OMFG! Gunnz!!Eleventy1!! Now not a matter of the Second Amendment, but an “unlicensed medical device” infinitely more deadly than the recently (banned as devices) DNA scans from 23andME.

Anybody else remember Al Gore's promise to ban all chlorine compounds? “And how were your French Fries, Mr President?” But that's ok, 'cause Mayor Bloomberg carries his own bootleg salt shaker. Maybe he gets a special kosher salt variance. Because the crystals are larger, and then you've got a religious exemption. But on the other hand, the city of San Francisco has banned male circumcisions “for health reasons”. Try dealing with a prepuce infection and adhesion on an uncut 2-year-old. So religious exemptions seem to be out as well.

Black nail lacquer weakens the fingernails. Bye-bye Goths. Hydrogen peroxide is bad for the skin. Bye bye 70% of blondes. Tattoos and piercings can lead to infection. So I cut off my left arm*, my right pectoral**, both nipples***, and can no longer identify chicks who like doggie style****.

Drinking is bad for you, so let's ration it. One pint Victory Gin per household per week. Sorry, I meant per month. If you eat your cabbage. It's high in vitamins and iron, and keeps well in the cold. Corn? Sorry, it's needed to keep my car running. You understand. Corn is distilled into whiskey to run my car, right? My driving is more important than you eating food. Talk to the boot*****


Diet is even easier. With the portion of the population getting food stamps (I ain't proud, been there myself) it should be easy enough to get everyone (save the nomenclatura) into a sustainable Gaia-friendly vegan diet by some easily drawn restrictions to the SNAP program. Even easier with the scanners and database management implicit in the inventory control systems used by most grocery stores. Which systems could easily be made mandatory, cutting convenience stores and bodegas out of the loop. That's a feature, not a bug. Big business good, small business bad. How much did they donate on the last election cycle?

But there's so much help we could get. If only OSHA could make the standards for our homes! And if everyone were ADA compliant! (Toronto, IIRC, just banned doorknobs. Not just the front door and back door and every bedroom door but the door from the garage to the kitchen and every bathroom, the retrofit for a 3/2 h, well we're running about $3k. Think I'm exaggerating? I'm doing it myself. Want a locksmith? 10K plus.)

Now how about aggression. It needs a safe outlet.

Let's begin the 5 minute hate.

Who's it gonna be this time?



* Tattoo of the State of Texas
** Tattoo of yellow rose, emblem of the State of Texas. Doesn't sag, either.
*** Got tired of 'em and let them heal up
**** What the fuck else is the tramp stamp supposed to be? “Hi, my name is” or “Property of”...
Nothing against ink, I wear some myself. Including flowers. But they're yellow roses It's a Texas thing. You wouldn't understand.
***** To imagine the future imagine a boot stomping endlessly on your face. Quote from my memory of the dear sweet Eric Blair, and if you don't get it then fuck you and Susan too.

Regarding E-cigs

I really hate the designation 'e-cig”. I also admit to a great distaste for the neologism “vaping”. But after a week without real Marlboro (red, short, soft pack, pronounced 'marl boor oh' with the accent on the middle syllable) I feel that I can give my impressions.

For the past few years I have followed a simple policy: I smoke 1 (one) cigarette during each hour divisible by 3. Each cigarette takes between 5 and 8 minutes to smoke. Off brands in the breeze burn fast. American Spirit at my desk take a good 9 minutes. Too dear, though.

Cig-Es (neologism alert!) have some problems.

They don't taste real. I've tried a number of them, and the desideratum of the makers is nicotine delivery. They all taste of antifreeze – propylene glycol, to be precise.

Dosage control: a real ciggie burns away, and a Cig-E stays the same, so when have I finished my allowed use?

What is the conversion factor for Cig-E versus real smokes? Roughly 12 tokes per RealCig, each stronger than the last. Cig-E each as strong as the last. No feedback save for a glycerin leak on the mouthpiece.

Those who use them and enjoy them tell me to take a puff or two and then set it down until I “need” another puff. Sorry, that dosage control does not work so well for me.

I admit that I use only cigarette form CigEs. I'm told that the pleasure from the more “sophisticated” designs is better. Those are either huge heavy cumbersome cylinders roughly the size of a Churchill cigar, or even more advanced thingies based on newest reefer tech that resemble airbrushes.

And then I remember old Doctor F, who died prematurely at the age of 92, saying “:Everywhere I go I carry pleasure with me in a little box” as he held up his daily nutritional requirement of Marlboro.

Begging the Question

The phrase “begging the question” has the specific meaning of “taking as settled a matter in dispute”. This is often found in political discourse. The often heard, “Well, as we all know...” is an example of begging the question, inasmuch as we may not all know that, nor need the posited thing be true. Exemplum Gratia: “As we all know, Jews need the blood of Gentiles to make Passover Mazahs”.

Please, please, by the Virgin Mary and her seven dwarves, do not conflate it with “raises the question”. That's a different matter entirely..

That question may on its part be tabled in either the (US) form of “removed from current dispute” or the (UK) sense of “brought to the table for dispute”. But it is raised, not begged.

Argentina

So the Argies default on another bond issue. They've been doing that at roughly ten year intervals for a long time. The default and ancillary issues were described as “~ 26 Billion USD, or the amount that Argentina holds in foreign currency reserves”.

Some few months before that declaration there was a series of fires – if by series one means many (3+
) on one night, all at secure document storage facilities operated by Iron Mountain. There was a loss of at least a dozen lives, despite there being reportedly quadruple layers of reduncacy on the fire supression systems.

All this taking place on the eve of a major audit.

Nothing to see here, move along citizens, or you'll feel this nice cattle prod.

21 August 2014

Thank you Al Gore

For saving the whole motherfucking planet by making me cook in the dark.

II know that you neant well when you thought (and I use the word loosly) that the use of longer life bulbs would make a difference.

Bullshit, What was a $1 4pack of bulds is now a $12 4pack of bulbs, with added mercury, and no added bulb life.

Thank you for saving the water. I must now stay in the head and monitor each bolus to see that it has gone down the tubes, sometimes requiring as many as 5 flushes.

I'd like to thank you personally, but I can't get access to the “general aviation” areas where your personal Gulfstream lands with the USAF escort.

That's ok. I realize that the world is more important, and that your monthly power bill is more than my annual income because you're more important than I am. Cause you were in 'Nam. Chaplain's assistant, then worked up to Photographer's assistant.