Sunday

Bought one of these Friday, and I’m pleased to report the thing works as well as advertised. Not only does the razor work, it’s a beautiful instrument as well. The picture doesn’t really do it justice…the color scheme—blue and gray with chrome trim a ’57 Caddy would envy plus a copper-colored strip on the razor’s head—is stunning. Maybe I’m a sucker, I dunno. I do know I laughed when I first heard Gillette was going to go to “five.” My immediate reaction was “Who needs this? How much better than my Mach 3 can it be?” I’ll have to use this for a week or so before deciding if I’ll switch permanently. So far I’m impressed.

It seems most other men are willing to try the Fusion…according to the Financial Times (UK), the Fusion has grabbed 55% of the market in only six weeks. Gillette ultimately hopes the Fusion will be a $1 billion brand within three years. That’s a lot of razor blades. For comparison’s sake, consider this: The Mach 3 has generated $16bn in retail sales since its 1998 launch–equivalent to the entire gross domestic product of Uruguay.

Milosevic is dead. Good riddance. Too bad the Bosnians didn’t get a crack at him, but that’s life, I suppose. His family will miss him; most others won’t.

“I met her in a club down in Old Soho…” Get ready to hear more Kinks tunes than you used to, especially on TV. Ray Davies has sold out for ten million dollars. “Lola” will be used in TV advertisements for a CD trading service called “LaLa.” Perhaps “sold out” is a little harsh; it’s his work, after all, and he can do with it what he chooses to do with it. I’d probably sell-out for ten million bucks, too. Assuming I had something to sell.

Bugs

I’m putting the final touches on dinner last evening (read that: taking the last of three grilled cheese sandwiches out of the frying pan) when, from literally out of nowhere, a medium sized daddy longlegs drops on to the counter in front of me. I quickly put that grilled cheese on the cutting board and take a swipe at the spider. I miss. He’s a quick little bugger! There’s only one escape route available to said spider and he takes it, leaping on to the cutting board, heading straight for my dinner. I take a couple of stabs at him with my finger, again. Miss. Miss. Now that bold little SOB is actually ON my dinner, so I sweep him off the sandwiches with the flat of my hand, surgical precision be damned. I succeeded in sweeping him off the cutting board back on to the counter from whence he came. He was terminated with extreme prejudice and the remains deposited in the trash.

Fifteen or 20 minutes later. Those sandwiches were good! As I’m clearing the table I look down on the cutting board to see what are clearly two tiny little legs amongst the remnant crumbs. Which, of course, raises the question: “How many spider legs did I actually eat?” After a brief “ewww” moment I realize this ain’t the first, or the last, time I’ll consume a bug, in whole or in parts. The government has standards for “acceptable” amounts of insect parts and other filth in our food, ya know. And here they are. I’m glad I didn’t have any fig newtons for dessert.

Which brings to mind another bug story. In the last installment of “Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine” I told you about my mid-70s trip to Ramasun Station in Thailand and associated events. During that trip I became very good friends with a young lady that worked in one of the local bars in Kho Kha. One evening after work I’m sitting at the bar, nursing a Singha and minding my business when my lady friend slides on to the stool next to mine. We exchange greetings, and she says: “I bring you present.” “Cool!” sez I.

She reaches into her (very large) purse and pulls out this little cage made out of woven palm fronds or something, about three inches in diameter by two inches high. She then opens the top of the grass cage and dumps out this VERY large beetle-looking insect on to the bar. The beetle is about the size of an Almond Joy piece, which is to say it’s a really big bug. “That’s nice,” I say. “What am I going to do with this?” “You eat!” she says. “You SHIT, too!” sez I. She looks at me in a mildly offended way, shrugs her shoulders, picks the bug up off the bar, and bites off the bug’s abdomen, and chews it up with exaggerated smiles of delight. I almost threw up.

It turns out she had offered me a Rice Bug, a particular form of beetle found in rice fields. This beetle eats rice, “processes” it, and stores the resulting paste in its large abdomen. A real Thai delicacy, so I’m told. Nonetheless, it was a day or two before I kissed her again.

Sometimes all you have to do is ask. I downloaded my credit card statement from Citi Bank’s web site yesterday, and as expected, I was socked with a $39.00 late fee plus $15.00 in interest. I use the “all-electronic” feature Citi offers, which is to say I pull my statements and make my payments on Citi’s web site. It’s a good system, and I like it. The downside is remembering to make the payment on time. Last month my payment was due on February 24^th, but you must initiate the transaction by 1:00 p.m. EST on or before the due date to be “on time.” I was six hours late last month. I hate paying interest, so I always pay my balance in full each month. And I detest late fees, they are a form of legal usury. So, I pick up the phone, dial Citi, get connected in short order to a customer service rep, explain the problem, and am immediately credited with both the late fee and the interest charges. Sometimes things actually work like you expect them to. It’s rare, I know, but it sure does make one feel good when it happens.

Now if I could just figure out who to ask to turn off the damned wind machine. Dubya, maybe? Rove? It’s semi-howling today at 39 mph steady and gusts of 47 mph. The advisory runs through 1800 hours today but begins again tomorrow morning. This will be four consecutive days… Aiiieee! Enough, already!

The Dubai Ports Deal Reprised, and Other Things

I find myself in agreement with David Ignatius of the WaPo, who says in an editorial today:

President Bush tried to do the right thing on the Dubai ports deal, but he got rolled by a runaway Congress. The collapse of the deal was a measure of Bush's political weakness -- but even more, of America's traumatized post-Sept. 11 politics. The ironic fact is that the UAE is precisely the kind of Arab ally the United States needs most now. But that clearly didn't matter to an election-year Congress, which responded to the Dubai deal with a frenzy of Muslim-bashing disguised as concern about terrorism. And we wonder why the rest of the world doesn't like us.

The entire Dubai ports affair leaves a very bad taste in my mouth, for a number of reasons.

First and foremost is the absolute incompetence displayed by the administration in handling this deal, from beginning to end, assuming this deal is indeed dead. While I have few doubts the business transaction was completely vetted by competent analysts from every government department involved, e.g., Homeland Security, Defense, Commerce, the fact that the analysts failed to appreciate the political implications of the deal astounds me. If it is indeed true that no Cabinet level official was briefed on the deal while it was being evaluated and after the decision was made, then some heads need to roll. One always keeps The Boss informed of things that might bite him. Always. Failure to do so means you don’t understand the nature of your job; either you need to find another line of work or get the necessary management experience in a more junior capacity.

One the president was informed of the deal and became aware there were some ignorant knee-jerk reactions by congressional idiots, the proper response would have been to discuss the issue with those folks privately and quietly. If your first statement on the subject is “I’ll veto any attempt to override this deal…” then you’ve displayed sheer arrogance. Perhaps Dubya assumed the deal’s critics were simply playing politics and responded in kind. Whatever his motive, it sure didn’t demonstrate competence, in my eyes. Subsequent actions by the administration to educate, explain, and rationalize the transaction to its critics, and more importantly, to the American public, were far too little, far too late. I blame the President for this failure, because by this time it was up to him to get the Best and Brightest strategists and tacticians to work on the problem. He failed to do so.

The second part of the issue that doesn’t sit well with me is the utter lack of backbone displayed by the congressional majority and the rank opportunism displayed by the minority. This is an election year, to state the obvious, and it seems getting re-elected takes precedence over doing what’s right for the country and its allies. It’s probably naïve of me to continue to be shocked by reprehensible behavior on the part of Congress. Silly me. The WaPo has another Op-Ed on the Dubai deal that specifically addresses Congress’ role in undermining and ultimately defeating this transaction. Better yet, the Post also clearly articulates the possible consequences of this huge error:

But our brave new Congress has achieved more than the irrational spiking of one business deal. It has also sent a clear message to the Arab world: No matter how far you move along the path of modernization and cooperation, Americans may be unable to distinguish you from al-Qaeda. Dubai welcomes hundreds of ship visits every year from the U.S. Navy and allied ships. It has worked with U.S. agents to stop terrorist financing and nuclear cooperation. But none of that mattered to the craven members of Congress -- neither to the Democrats who first sensed a delicious political opportunity nor to the Republicans who then fled in unseemly panic. As to long-term damage to the United States' security, economy and alliances? Not of concern to the great deliberative body.

You really should read the whole thing.

I’m disappointed by those bloggers on the right who piled on, and remained in the pile, even after people like CENTCOM commander General Abizaid made the point perfectly clear that the UAE is a staunch ally, not “the enemy.” And, finally, I’m disappointed the great majority of the American public seemed to be both xenophobic and incapable of recognizing that we do have some allies in the Middle East, allies that are helping us at great risk to themselves.

We’ve made strategic mistakes in the past, and we’ve recovered from those mistakes. No doubt we’ll be able to overcome this one. This is a hard war, and it’s gonna be a long one. We damned sure shouldn’t make it harder than it already is.

From The Remedy, the blog of The Claremont Institute (entry dated March 9^th): “On March 8, 1946, Winston S. Churchill arrived in Richmond, Virginia, to give a short address on the importance of Anglo-American unity. Yesterday, exactly 60 years later, the Old Dominion State made Sir Winston an honorary Virginian. He is one of only four to have received the distinction. (Read the Virginia-Pilot’s report to see who the others were.)” As most Churchill fans know, JFK made Sir Winston an honorary US citizen in 1963, two years before the Old Lion’s death. There is also a USS Winston S. Churchill, an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. From the USS Churchill web site: “As a courtesy to the ship's namesake country, a member of the Royal Navy is assigned to the ship's crew at all times.”

Wind update: The trees are still doing their frantic rumba—twisting, turning, and waving their branches all over the place. The atmosphere is still dust-laden, as is every flat surface in El Casa Móvil de Pennington. And it’s gonna stay this way through tomorrow. We will endure, we will.

This Frickin' Wind...

According to the WX Channel: steady 27 mph, gusting to 38 mph. This is a steady Tiresome, gusting to Obnoxious, on the Pennington Scale. Translated to the more widely accepted Beaufort Scale that would be a steady high-end Force Six (Strong Breeze, 25 – 31 mph), gusting to Force Seven (Near Gale, 32 – 38 mph). We’ve been subjected to this crap for well over 24 hours now, and I could plant a good alfalfa crop in the accumulated dirt on my window sills. And I’ve “dusted” (dirt-ed?) twice since this stuff started yesterday. I’m thinking about breaking out the Dramamine, too. This constant side-to-side rocking is beginning to affect me. I’m not being entirely facetious, either. But on balance this is better than snow, I suppose.

Speaking of the WX Channel, they’ve subjected me to an avalanche of weight loss ads today. The ones with the ridiculous before/after photos and quick video clips showing Amazing Results. The funny thing is I prefer the “before” women, unless said women lost in excess of 100 pounds, of which there are a few. I think I was born into the wrong era; I’d be much more comfortable in Reubens’ era than my own. A pox on those frickin’ people who push the ectomorphic ideal on our women. The answer to that perennial female “Am I too fat?” question, in at least 70% of the cases, is “No.” No, you’re not. Now let’s go have a beer or three.

What Do These Three Things Have In Common?

The Concorde Supersonic Transport. The Supermarine Spitfire. The Official London Underground Map.

Give up?

They are the three finalists in The Great British Design Quest. You can vote, if you care to, here. The voting page also has links to other British design icons that didn't make it to the Final Three, such as the original Mini (both car and skirt), the once-ubiquitous British red phone box, and the E-Type Jaguar. There are a few surprises, too. I never knew "Grand Theft Auto" (the video game) had British roots, but it does, according to Auntie.

Oh, yeah... My vote was for the Tube map. The Underground map is truly a classic design, one that is imitated by subway systems all over the world, including Moscow, Tokyo, and Paris. Plus it's the only one of the three finalists that is still in "active service." Plus I have the tee shirt.

Some Excellent Plane Pr0n...

John Noonan over at The Officers Club has posted a great photo montage of USAF fighters, past and present, flying in formation. All the photos are "official" USAF and all have links to hi-res versions. I never thought I'd see an F-22 in formation with a P-47, but, there ya go!

Just a Couple of Lil Things

Here’s an interesting article from the March 5th edition of The Telegraph (UK) – “How we duped the West, by Iran's nuclear negotiator.” If this story is true, then there’s no denying the need to act against Iran now. I think we should blockade the bastards and perhaps put a few 2,000 lb JDAMs in their oil terminals for good measure. We can live longer with more expensive oil than they can live without the money from selling it.

Song of the Day

Song: Choctaw Bingo
Artist: James McMurtry
Album: Saint Mary of the Woods
Year: 2002
Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: Whoa. This song really caught my attention. I’d never heard it before, and it was the lyrics that grabbed me, in a not-so-good kinda way. That isn’t to say the lyrics aren’t good, because they are. It’s just the content of the song rings so true about the dark underbelly of American life, the sort of stuff you instinctively know exists but you’d prefer not to look at it, call attention to it, or acknowledge it in any way. I’ve known a few people like the ones described in this song during my life and (usually) had the good sense to get the Hell away from them as fast as I could.

Lyrics:

Strap them kids in
Give 'em a little bit of vodka in a cherry coke
We're going to Oklahoma to the family reunion for the first time in years
It's up at uncle Slayton's cause he's getting on in years
You know he no longer travels but he's still pretty spry
He's not much on talking and he's just too mean to die
And they'll be comin' down from Kansas
and from west Arkansas
It'll be one great big old party like you never saw

Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
He's got a Airstream trailer and a Holstein cow
He still makes whiskey 'cause he still knows how
He plays that Choctaw bingo every Friday night
You know he had to leave Texas but he won't say why
He owns a quarter section up by Lake Eufala
Caught a great big ol' blue cat on a driftin' jug line
Sells his hardwood timber to the shipping mill
Cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
He cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
You know he likes his money he don't mind the smell

My cousin Roscoe Slayton's oldest boy from his second marriage up in Illinois
He was raised in East St. Louis by his momma's people
Where they do things different
Thought he'd just come on down
He was going to Dallas Texas in a semi truck
called from that big McDonald's
You know the one they built up on that great big ol' bridge
Across the Will Rogers Turnpike
Took the Big Cabin exit stopped and bought a couple of cartons of cigarettes
At that Indian Smoke Shop with the big neon smoke rings
In the Cherokee Nation hit Muskogee late that night
Somebody ran a stoplight at the Shawnee Bypass
Roscoe tried to miss 'em but he didn't quite

Bob and Mae come up from little town
Way down by lake Texoma where he coaches football
They were two A champions now for two years running
But he says they won't be this year no they won't be this year
And he stopped off in Tushka at that "Pop's Knife and Gun" place
Bought a SKS rifle and a couple a full cases of that steel core ammo
With the berdan primers from some East bloc nation that no longer needs 'em
And a Desert Eagle that's one great big ol' pistol
I mean .50 caliber made by badass Hebrews
And some surplus tracers for that old BAR of Slayton's
Soon as it gets dark we're gonna have us a time
We're gonna have us a time

Ruth Ann and Lynn come down from Baxter Springs
That's one hell raisin' town way up in Southeastern Kansas
Got a biker bar next to the lingerie store
That's got them Rolling Stones lips up there where everyone can see 'em
And they burn all night you know they burn all night you know they burn all night
Ruth Ann and Lynn they wear them cut off britches and those skinny little halters
And they're second cousins to me
Man I don't care I want to get between 'em
With a great big ol' hard on like a old bois d' arc fence post
You could hang a pipe rail gait from
Do some twisted sisters 'til the cows come home
And we'd be havin' us a time

Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
He's cut that corner pasture into acre lots`
He sells 'em owner financed
Strictly to them that's got no kind of credit 'Cause he knows they're slackers
When they miss that payment
Then he takes it back
He plays that Choctaw Bingo every Friday night
Drinks that Johnny Walker at that Club 69
We're gonna strap them kids in give 'em a little bit o' Benadryl
And a cherry coke we're goin' to Oklahoma
Gonna have us a time

Another Hump Day...

Ah, lottery fantasies. This one is just a week or so late, courtesy of Lileks. Assuming (a) I’d bought a ticket for that big Powerball drawing and (b) assuming I’d won, MY fantasy was (seriously) just a little place in NYC to hang out for a while. A place something like this. The floor plans are not that easy to see, but the interior views and photos of the facilities are pretty good, as are the cityscape views. If you opt for one of the penthouses, you get a free gratis interior design consultation with Armani/Casa. Wanna see what Armani’s interior designers can whip up? Take the virtual tour here. It’s cool, no doubt.

Lileks also has another treat, if you’re so inclined (and there’s a pun there, if you follow the link). What may be the world’s largest Varga Girl, ever. A newspaper photo of a 124-foot long Varga girl serving as an ad for a WW II vintage movie, photographed in April of 1944. So VERY cool. I mean that. The entire “Acme” series is a treat if you’re into vintage newspaper photography. (I consider all these links to be work-safe, but there are tastefully done bare breasts in a couple of thumbnails, so be advised.)

Those Vargas links fired off a few long-dormant synapses in my aged, addled brain. Alberto Vargas was responsible for my earliest introduction to artistic renditions of the female form. Ol’ Alberto’s work was ubiquitous during Big Bang Two, what with simple Esquire pin-ups decorating the most modest of GI living accommodations to elaborate nose art on all sorts of combat aircraft. There were numerous examples of Vargas’ work to be found in my house as a child, but none so dramatic as the Vargas-inspired lithograph that hung above my parents’ bed. I don’t remember if the picture was an original or a copy, nor do I remember if it was an actual Varga Girl…there were many, many artists doing Vargas knock-offs in the ‘50s. At any rate, this large lithograph was probably four-feet square and featured a full-frontal view of a long and lithe blonde standing on a beach, flanked by two Afghan hounds, one on each side. The blonde wore a transparent bikini, and that was it. It was a stunning piece of work, let me tell you, and it was also the first picture that got hung every time we moved, which was often (remember, my father was career USAF: we moved a lot). The other salient fact? My mother hated that picture. But she put up with it. “Father Knows Best,” the 50s, and all that. I think my step-mother still has that picture.

We’re under a wind-advisory all day, until 1800 this evening, and we’ve cooled off a bit…what with the high only going up to 70, at most. Still no rain, but the forecast says there’s a slight possibility.

All's Quiet on the Western Front

I don’t know exactly why or how this happened, but I watched ABC’s Nightline in its entirety last evening. I never watch this show, never. I don’t even know why I happened to be tuned to ABC in the first place. I was pleasantly surprised. The show wasn’t all that bad, or I have very low expectations regarding network news, or a combination of the two.

As might be expected, the lead story was the new South Dakota abortion law. I thought the piece concentrated way too much on the current state of abortion in South Dakota (one clinic in Sioux Falls serves the entire state; doctors fly in to SD from Minnesota to perform the procedures; no SD doctors will perform abortions) rather than the Roe v. Wade implications. The blogs are surprisingly quiet on this issue this morning, at least according to Memeorandum. I expected to see a lot of gnashing and thrashing from the Left (and there is some) and muted huzzahs from the Right (virtually none). Personally, I think the government should stay the Hell out of people’s private lives, period. While I would never be a party to abortion and believe it is wrong (in most circumstances), that’s just one man’s opinion. I cannot, and will not, presume to speak for anyone else.

Nightline also had a bit of a puff-piece on how the British government has mobilized Britain’s birdwatchers to assist in identifying possible avian victims of bird flu. Legions of birders scoured Britain’s entire south coast looking for dead birds this past weekend, all this because of an outbreak of bird flu across the Channel in France. Birdwatching, which I’ve always considered to be mildly eccentric (at best), has finally come into its own. Now if they could only find a good use for train spotters…

Leno was pretty good last night, with a boatload of Oscar jokes. The only ones I remember (and they were coming fast and furiously) are Leno’s reference to the Oscars as “…or, the Gay Super Bowl, as we call them here in West LA,” and the fact that “…rioting broke out in West LA when Crash beat out Brokeback Mountain for “Best Picture. Pottery Barns were looted, Volvos over-turned and Liza Minelli records were smashed!” Now I’m all confused. I thought Olympic figure-skating was the Gay Super Bowl… (Full disclosure: I did not watch the Academy Awards. I’d sooner watch a cat show, and “I don’t like cats” would be a gross understatement for me.)

It’s gonna be another Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. We’ve had a three-day run of magnificent weather, and those first warm days of Spring are always SO welcome after Winter. “Winter” on the High Plains being very relative, of course. I expect to see the trees budding out next week, if this keeps up at its current pace…

Not much else to report: All’s quiet on the Western Front. But I already said that, didn’t I?

Didja Miss Me?

Yesterday was the first day I’ve not posted since beginning this blog. That’s three and half months, not a record by any means, but still… I did feel just a lil bit guilty, ya know.

Yesterday was brilliant, weather-wise, mid-70s and—Huzzah!—no wind. After I finished the coffee I dropped the top on the Green Hornet and headed south just for the Hell of it. There’s not a lot to see between here and Roswell, just a lot of High Plains…open, flat, virtually treeless, and semi-desolate. The best time to make this drive is in early summer on a clear night. Once you get about five miles south of Portales and away from the city’s ambient light you can see more stars than you ever knew existed. It gets even better about halfway between Portales and Roswell, because there is literally nothing there. I still remember the first time I pulled to the side of the road between here and Roswell late on a warm summer’s night and stared at the stars for well over an hour, interrupted only by the very occasional car or semi. It’s very quiet out there, too, which can be either peaceful or somewhat scary, depending on your pre-disposition, I suppose. There aren’t many places in the US today where one can experience this sort of thing. Actually, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of places where one can do this. I’ve experienced nearly the same phenomenon in the Dakotas, Wyoming, the California desert, and backwoods Oregon. But there’s something different about the High Plains of New Mexico. Perhaps it’s the altitude, I dunno.

Bad news for the bad guys: the Washington Times reports the USAF is moving AC-130s into Iraq.

AN AIR BASE IN IRAQ -- The U.S. Air Force has begun moving heavily armed AC-130 airplanes -- the lethal "flying gunships" of the Vietnam War -- to a base in Iraq as commanders search for new tools to counter the Iraqi resistance.

An Associated Press reporter saw the first of the turboprop-driven aircraft after it landed at the airfield last week. Three more are expected.

The Iraq-based special forces command controlling the AC-130s, the Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force, said it would have no comment on the deployment. But other Air Force officers, speaking anonymously because of the sensitivity of the subject, confirmed the plan's general outline.

I did a short stint near Hurlburt Field, home of the AC-130s, down in the Florida Panhandle a few years ago. The AC-130 guys practice on the range at nearby Eglin AFB and ever so often you could here those big 105mm cannon letting loose. I sure as Hell wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of a Spooky greeting!

Gotta go to the Big(ger) City™ today. My watch quit yesterday, so I need to find a jeweler who (a) has a battery in stock that fits my watch and (b) will install it. Not an issue in most places. But here? One never knows! I’m amazed at the batteries in watches…this one lasted a good four years. A pretty impressive bit of technology, if you ask me. You didn’t ask, I know. But that’s never stopped me before, so why should it now?

I Watched, As Instructed

And nothing happened. We didn’t get a single thunderclap, and no rain. At all. We need rain, badly. The WX Channel eventually updated the Severe Thunderstorm Watch message on the crawl to state “until 9:00 p.m. MST.” Thanks, guys. Timely info is what we all crave, ya know.

I like Newt Gringrich. Here he is in the WaPo writing in rebuttal to a critical Post Op-Ed on the recently-delivered Quadrennial Defense Review. Sample graf:

Finally, The Post seems upset that some new weapons systems have not been entirely eliminated. The F-22, for example, has been cut from 380 aircraft to 180, reflecting the low likelihood of major air battles against a large and modern adversary. Yet there may come a morning when -- facing a challenge in Iran, North Korea or potentially with China in the Taiwan Straits -- the F-22 will prove its worth. The issue with next-generation aircraft is not, as The Post asserts, a question of air superiority but of survivability against antiaircraft missiles when Russia's and other countries are prepared to sell their best systems to a range of countries that oppose the United States.

Yep! I think I’d vote for Newt if he ran for president. Can’t you just imagine Kofi Annan introducing him in front of the UN General Assembly? “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am honored to present the President of the United States (pause) (pause) The Honorable NEWT? Gingrich!” I’d love to see that…

Gained some, not a lot, but some, respect for Jon Stewart. I know he’s All The Rage and has been for the past two years or so, but I personally cannot stand his condescending, raised-eyebrow, arch brand of humor. And I have tried to watch The Daily Show, numerous times. My opinions aside, here’s an excerpt from a Daniel Henninger Op-Ed in the WSJ:

And so it came to pass on these still waters that I discovered Jon Stewart seated across the table from Larry King. Mr. Stewart is the host of "The Daily Show," Comedy Central's satirical TV news program. This looked like a wave worth waiting for, and it was. The subject was Washington.

Larry King suggested to Jon Stewart that the current low ebb of the Democrats and Republicans was good for Mr. Stewart's business.

King: So, in a sense you're happy over this.

Stewart: No.

King: This gives you fodder.

Mr. Stewart replied that if government "began to solve problems in a rational way rather than just a way that involved political dividends, we would be the happiest people in the world to turn our attention to idiots like, you know, media people, no offense."

King: So, you don't want it to be bad?

Stewart: Did you really just ask me if I want it to be bad?

King: Yes because you--

Stewart: What are you--I have kids. What do you think? I want things to corrode to the point where we're all living in huts?

King: You don't want Medicare to fail?

Stewart: Are you insane?

Henninger uses this bit of dialog to set up the rest of the Op-Ed, titled “Has Washington Gone Insane?” An excellent read.

Speaking of insane… I’ve watched a few shows on C-SPAN today that made me raise an eyebrow not once or twice, but many times. So much so that Mom’s admonishment to “don’t DO that, your face will stay that way!” just may come true. Consider this:

Huey: Spirit of the Panther
David Hilliard

Description: In "Huey" David Hilliard profiles Huey Newton, the founder of the Black Panther Party. The author, who is chief of staff of the party, explains that the party was founded in Oakland, California in 1966 to fight social oppression and encourage blacks to take control of their own lives. David Hilliard is joined by Huey Newton's widow, Fredrika Newton, to discuss his role as a family man and the personal struggles he dealt with during the last days of his life. This event was hosted by Barnes & Noble Booksellers in Oakland.

That’s the official C-SPAN description. The reality is tigers (and Panthers) can’t change their stripes; once a radical, always a radical. This was nothing more than massive rationalization of the BP movement, with a little romanticizing thrown in for spice. Mr. Hilliard’s presentation wasn’t the worst of it, I’ll reserve that judgment for the simpering people in the audience who fawned all over Hilliard in his presence, and Newton, in his absence. I was appalled.

And then there was the four-person panel discussion on the subject of Reparations for Slavery. How can four highly educated (note I didn’t say “smart”) individuals devote careers to such a non-starter? Three of the four panel members supported reparations and have written books on the subject, the other panel member was a rather inspired choice to present the contrarian point of view. Three of the four presentations were probably the ultimate Identity Politics dissertations I’ve ever seen. The contrarian professor’s presentation rejected the arguments made by the other three individuals forcefully and factually, and he was hammered by his peers, of course. It was fascinating stuff. I’m sorry I cannot give you names or other citations, the program was a re-run from last month and I cannot find a description on the C-SPAN web site.

On the other (good) hand, C-SPAN had an extensive interview with David Vise, a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the Washington Post discussing Mr. Vise’s book "The Google Story." I heard some pretty interesting things about Google I never knew. I just may read “The Google Story” after I finish “The Last Lion.” Assuming I finish it…the going has been slow. (This show will air again tomorrow [Sunday] at 6:00 and 9:00 p.m., EST)

You’re being misinformed, says Ralph Peters in the New York Post. Mr. Peters files a first-hand report from Baghdad, refuting some of last week’s dire news on Iraq from the MSM. A lot of us have known we’re being misinformed for quite a while. But then again, only 10% or less of internet users read blogs, so I guess there’s a reason Mr. Peters has to point this out.

Great.

Watching the WX Channel (on mute) with one eye and reading with the other…then I notice this:

The National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm watch for your viewing area until (nothing)

OK… Until? When? Tell me…Tell me! But they don’t, and it’s been ten or 15 minutes now.

Every area has its perils…in Florida, Mississippi, Texas and Louisiana it’s hurricanes, in California and points north it’s earthquakes, the Northeast has its blizzards, and we get tornadoes. You can’t run away from earthquakes or tornadoes, like the ol’ saying goes: they happen. It doesn’t help my peace of mind to be living in a tornado magnet. Nope. Not at all.

Some Serious Business

From the Associated Press:

KOKOMO, Ind. — Police posted an around-the-clock security watch at the home of an Indiana soldier killed last week in Iraq after it was vandalized and his family received disturbing phone calls.

The home of Sgt. Rickey Jones was egged Saturday, three days after Jones’ family learned the 21-year-old and three other soldiers had been killed by a roadside bomb north of Baghdad. His family also received phone calls in which the caller said: “I’m glad your son is dead.”

The actions drew the attention of their congressman, Rep. Steve Buyer, a Republican who also chairs the House Veterans’ Affairs Committee.

There’s more ugliness afoot, as if this isn’t enough. Professional wacko Fred Phelps and his band of merry homophobes are planning to show up at Sgt. Jones’ funeral to “protest.” If all goes well, Phelps and his perverted followers will do some jail time, courtesy of a bill passed by the Indiana state legislature. Jail time would be contingent upon the governor signing the bill, of course. BlackFive has contact info for Indiana Governor Mitch Daniels, if you are an Indiana resident. My search of Yahoo News this morning didn’t reveal if the governor has signed the bill, or not.

And finally, perhaps most importantly, there is something we can do. We can all send cards to Sgt Jones’ family to let them know America appreciates their sacrifice and shares their grief. Perhaps if we show them we care, a small part of the evil they are enduring can be undone. Send your cards to:

Kokomo High School
2501 S. Berkley Road
Kokomo, Indiana 46902

Via LinkedInUSAF, BlackFive, and EuphoricReality.

Gray Skies...

Well, now. The weather is back to normal for March, the June-like lull is over. Gray, cool, bordering on cold, it is. Not all that bad, actually. Better than no weather at all, right?

The laundry is done, for another month or so. I searched the blog to see when it was I last did this hated chore and was dumbfounded to see it was December 28^th, well over two months ago. No wonder I was out of clean clothes. And when I say “out,” I mean out! Nothing unusual to report from the laundromat…no big women, no unruly children, not much of anything, actually. I was disappointed. I was expecting to get some good blog-fodder out of laundry, but no, it was not to be. I did get the usual and perennial laundromat earworm, though, and it’s still playing in my head:

I got the all night Laundry Mat blues
Washing everything I own except my shoes
I got makeup round the collar
And it smells like sweat
A dollar in the drier
And it ain't dry yet

If you wear clothes, you got to pay the dues
Sing the all night Laundry Mat blues
Yes you do
Sing the all night Laundry Mat blues

Remember that one?

Apropos of nothing…here’s a cool site: Word Spy. Actually, it’s parce que I googled “earworm” and found it on Word Spy. Here’s a great quote from the site:

Unlike French — credited with a mere 100,000 words, each authorized and sanctified by the Academie Francaise gatekeepers — English gathers new words with the gusto of a bag lady.
—Graeme McRanor, Canadian journalist, 24 Hours Vancouver, February 20, 2006

English is the ultimate “living language.” While there are some regrettable excesses (think hip-hop) in our ability to add to and modify the language, it remains the most expressive of all languages. It’s nearly impossible to think of a single object that does not have a corresponding English word (or three) to describe it.

Trivia I meant to include yesterday, but forgot… From the History Channel: The average American uses 20,805 sheets of toilet paper per year. That’s an incredible 57 sheets each day! I find this amazing because I am way, way below the average. I have a good idea about my TP consumption, and it’s because I live in an RV. Early on, and before I bought the RV, I was cautioned about the on-board septic systems and how susceptible they were to clogs, etc. Now that’s something I absolutely do not want to deal with, ever. The biggest source of RV septic system problems? Too much TP…

I said yesterday’s song of the day was probably gonna be Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.” Wrong. There were two songs of the day, and it’s because of the great segue Bill at RP engineered with this:

REM - Losing My Religion, then
Grateful Dead - Uncle John's Band

Oooh…perfect. Just frickin’ perfect! The lyrics to “Losing My Religion,” coupled with those of “Uncle John’s Band” just struck a chord with me (no pun…). I love good segues; they are SO hard to pull off consistently and well. I know from whence I speak; Your Humble Scribe did a stint as a DJ (and later as Station Manager) at KBOK, a closed-circuit radio station for the population of TUSLOG Det. 4 (Diogenes Station), Sinop, Turkey in 1970 or ’71. That particular “job” was one of the most rewarding and fun things I did in the military. There wasn’t any monetary compensation involved, but I did my level-best to tape the station’s entire music library and that was more than enough compensation, in and of itself. I use quotes around “job” because DJ’ing was a volunteer thing, my real job was fixing electronic spook stuff, or attempting to, anyway. More trivia: “KBOK” is a play on words, “bok” being Turkish slang for “shite.” GIs. Gotta love ‘em!

And so it goes…

Much Ado About Not Much (Thursday)

My Bloggin’ Buddy “S” has started up a new, very USAF-friendly blog called Fix4RSO. "S" gets and posts some of the best military photos out there and his commentary is spot-on. Drop on by and give him a shout-out!

Another good post I noticed while we were makin’ the rounds this morning: BB has a first-person account about yesterday’s wild fires in Oklahoma. High winds and high-temps, coupled with persistent drought, makes for some serious “hold your breath, cross your fingers, and pray” moments. I see northern Texas and Oklahoma may get some rain today. Let’s hope, coz they sure do need it.

Had a real “made me smile” moment this morning when Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” came on the radio. There’s not another song ever sung that even comes close to the seductive quality of this tune. I count myself among those thousands (millions?) of young (teen-aged or otherwise) testosterone-poisoned young males who built altars to Marvin when he released this song. While Marvin may not have been singularly-responsible for the success of many of my mid-seventies romantic encounters, he sure as Hell helped. Too early to tell, but this just might be today’s Song of the Day. (Oh, and by the way: all references to “radio” mean Radio Paradise, unless otherwise noted)

And speaking of RP…I’m just about ready to jump and buy the first two or three albums based on “new horizons” RP has given me over the past month or so. High on the candidate list at the moment are Over the Rhine’s “Ohio” and an album (dunno which one, yet) by Sonny Landreth. Afro Celt Sound System is right up there, too. I’ve yet to hear a bad tune on RP by any of these three artists, and that’s a GOOD sign.

I may have figured out why my motivation’s been lacking these past two days or so. I’ve been “off my meds,” so to speak. While I’m not taking any serious meds, I DO take an Omega-3 supplement in the form of flax seed oil. Or, I try and remember to take it. I think it’s been nearly a week since I took my last dose, rectified this morning. That might be the answer…sure hope so!

Just Sayin’ Department: I may be the poster-child for what happens to guys who lack structure in their lives. This, of course, amplifies on the comment immediately above. Life just seemed more orderly (albeit frantic) when I was working. And on that proverbial other hand, life was certainly more ordered while I was in my last live-in relationship. One assumes responsibilities to the “other” when you’re involved, and that, in turn, adds structure. I’m slowly coming around to the conclusion I may need to get back “in the market.” Whoo-Boy, but there’s a scary thought. My freedom! My freedom! Definitely prized over and above structure… What’s a geezer to do?

The coffee’s nearly finished and that over-stuffed laundry bag demands to be emptied. Think I’ll go do something productive…

Hump Day

It’s been a strange day around El Casa Móvil de Pennington. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s me — I dunno — but motivation has been seriously lacking around here. It’s times like these I’m glad I’m retired because I’d have a Helluva time getting anything done at work in this mood. The weather, while warm, has been very cloudy, windy, and feels humid. The “feel” outside reminds me of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, even thought the WX Channel assures me the humidity is only 16%. Sometimes you shouldn’t believe everything you see or hear, and today’s weather is certainly an example of that ol’ cliché in action.

So. Lazy day. I’ve just been reading and listening to RP, which has been particularly good today. “Good,” of course, being a seriously subjective evaluation. As far as “Song of the Day” goes, there’s been so many great songs to choose from already I may be a bit premature in choosing a song of the day so early. But, I will. You knew that was coming, didn’t ya?

Song of the Day

Song: Tangled Up In Blue
Artist: Bob Dylan
Album: Blood on the Tracks
Year: 1975
Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: My all-time favorite Dylan song from my all-time favorite Dylan album. The album came out a few months before I left Kingsley Field, OR (Klamath Falls) for Yokota AB in Tokyo. To say this album, and song, got a lot of airplay would be a gross understatement.

An example of the song’s impact on life as I knew it: I was a Staff Sergeant radar maintenance shift supervisor at Keno AFS when this album was released. Our shop had one of those ubiquitous federal green ledger books (about 15” high x 8” wide [closed]) we used as an informal shift log book. Shop SOP was to log your arrival and departure times, crew complement, “significant” events, general status and complete write-ups of any malfunctions that occurred on your shift…for posterity and for the information of management and the following crews. The Management had a very liberal policy about what could and could not be entered into the log; the ol’ Sarge in charge realized less control would get him more detail in that log. The log, as you might imagine, was pretty colorful. I worked nights primarily, and most evenings were pretty uneventful. Problems, thankfully, were few and far between – work was mostly routine inspections, shift checks, and periodic alignments. One weekend evening I wrote my entire shift report in the log in “Tangled Up In Blue” form, “blue” of course, being a metaphor for the Air Force. I can’t remember what I wrote, unfortunately, but it began something like this:

Friday night and Saturday swings
I’d rather be doing other things
The equipment’s tight
Ain’t nothing wrong
Been a boring shift
Way too long
Still I found enough to do
Can’t wait to get off
Tangled up in blue…

The ultimate “you hadda be there” thingie, I suppose…

Lyrics:

Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.

She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.

I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.

She was workin' in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer,
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear.
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I's just about to do the same,
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, "Don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath,
She studied the lines on my face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe,
Tangled up in blue.

She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.

I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.

So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.

Others considered: Van Morrison - Tupelo Honey, The Romantics - What I Like About You (the ultimate one-hit-wonder kick-ass rock ‘n’ roll song), and Muddy Waters - I Can't Be Satisfied (oooh, what sweet bottleneck guitar!).

Tuesday Wrap...

Here’s an interesting editorial on blogging by Jason Fry of the WSJ. A key graf:

The latest word from Dave Sifry, CEO of the blog search engine Technorati, is that there are some 28.4 million blogs and the blogosphere is doubling in size every 5.5 months. Eye-popping figures like that have been thrown around a lot recently, but folks making revolutionary claims about blogging won't like other Technorati numbers: Less than half of those blogs are still getting posts three months after their creation, and less than 10% -- just 2.7 million -- are updated at least weekly. That means of Technorati's blogs, more than 90% are either abandoned or updated too rarely to merit the name -- nothing kills reader interest or visits more quickly and thoroughly than a stale blog.

The Dave Sifry link is worth following in itself, with lotsa “gee whiz” facts and a few charts. Seeing the growth rate of the blogosphere charted is interesting, to me. YMMV.

Yeah, I did have to run the AC today, but only for a couple of hours…from around 1500 until 1700. Our high yesterday was 82, a record for February 27^th. Doubtless today’s high will be a record, too. I don’t know what our actual high temp was today, but it sure felt like nearly-90. I (and you, assuming you drop back by) will know tomorrow. And I will report. Trust me.

So I did the major shopping run out to the base today. Successfully – everything I needed was on the shelves. Noted in passing: the limes at the commissary are just slightly smaller than tennis balls (really), cost 16 cents apiece, and are juice-eee! The limes at Wally-World, on the other hand, are about half the size of commissary limes, cost 22 cents apiece, and may as well be semi-dehydrated when it comes to juice. Somehow I thought you just needed to know this.

I also stopped by the base library and picked up that inter-library loan of The Last Lion by William Manchester. I’d requested the book a couple of weeks ago and the librarian said she’d e-mail me when it arrived. When I asked about the e-mail (coz I never got it), she said they had tried to e-mail me twice. And tried to phone once. And had documentation to prove it; she showed me. Damn! I’ve been incommunicado and didn’t even know it… The Last Lion is a hella big book – 883 pages of narrative, 16 pages of “source notes,” four pages of acknowledgements, and a whopping 32 page index. And it only covers Churchill’s life between 1874 and 1932. Take note: You should be prepared for Churchill quotes for the next week or so. Just sayin’.

Your tax dollars at work… While I was at the base I popped by the Base Hospital clinic to pick up a prescription. The pharmacy is located about as far as away from the main entrance as possible. This means I walk by waiting areas for the Family Clinic, the Lab, X-Ray, and a couple of other waiting rooms, on my way to and from the pharmacy. I had to wait in line for just a few moments at the pharmacy and in so doing I’m watching CNN on the waiting area’s TV. Then it dawned on me: the last time I was here there was a 21-inch CRT TV hung on one of those wall-mounted shelves in the waiting area. Today I’m looking at a spiffy new flat-screen Sony that may or may not be HDTV...but for sure it’s wide-screen format and at least 30 inches wide. So, I pick up my prescription and while exiting the area I note that every TV in all the waiting rooms mentioned above have been replaced with new flat-screen TVs. It ain’t gonna break the Federal bank by any means, but buying those TVs had to cost a pretty chunk o’ change. Support the troops, indeed.

Song of the Day

Song: You Can’t Resist It
Artist: Lyle Lovett
Album: Live in Texas (and the self-titled first album)
Year: 1999 (1986)
Source: My stuff.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: And you can tell your story, and you can swear it's true; but you can save your lying for some other fool. It is ever so.

Lyrics:

She was old enough
To know better
And she was strong enough
To be true
And she was hard enough
To know whether
He was smart enough
To know what to do

And you can't resist it
When it happens to you
No you can't resist it
When it happens to you

And you can tell your story
And you can swear it's true
But you can save your lying
For some other fool

And you can't resist it
When it happens to you
No you can't resist it
When it happens to you

She was old enough
To know better
And she was strong enough
To be true
And she was hard enough
To know whether
He was smart enough
To know what to do

And you can't resist it
When it happens to you
No you can't resist it
When it happens to you
And you can't resist it
When it happens to you
No you can't resist it
When it happens to you

See ya tomorrow!

Another One of Those Memes...

Barb over at Bitchin' and Stuff tagged me with this...

1. Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies?

I’m not a movie guy, so I have no opinion on this one. Just to be contrarian, I’ll say B&W.

2. What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death?

“Lemmee tell you about my operation.” Oh, please, no, don’t.

3. MP3s, CDs, Tapes or Records: what is your favorite medium for prerecorded music?

CDs in the present, vinyl in the past. Vinyl nearly always sounds good. I also have a collection of 100+ reel-to-reel tapes, most of which are poorly recorded due to my being uh…under the influence of various and sundry substances.

4. You are handed one first class trip plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars cash. All of this is yours provided that you leave and not tell anyone where you are going: Ever. This includes family, friends, everyone. Would you take the money and ticket and run?

No.

5. Seriously, what do you consider the world's most pressing issue now?

A nuclear Iran.

6. How would you rectify the world's most pressing issue?

I’d re-target about three Minutemen sitting in those North Dakota silos, give Ahmedjani a call, and say “Catch!” Seriously, though, this is a tough one. I’m not sure there is a solution that doesn’t involve a lot of stuff getting broke and a lot of people getting dead.

7. You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life; what would that be?

I’d have never lit that first cigarette.

8. You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would that be?

I have no friggin’ clue.

9. A night at the opera, or a night at the Grand Ole Opry. Which do you choose?

Grand Ole Opry.

10. What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you'd like to solve?

Once again, I have no friggin’ clue.

11. One famous author can come to dinner with you. Who would that be, and what would you serve for the meal?

Winston Churchill; dinner at Claridges; we’d eat well, get famously drunk and I could die happy. If we’re limiting the choice to living authors, it would be Tom Robbins.

12. You discover that John Lennon was right, that there is no hell below us, and above us there is only sky. What's the first immoral thing you might do to celebrate this fact?

Depends on Alexandra Steele’s availability and willingness to participate.

Pretty boring, eh? I'm supposed to tag two people. All y'all can self-select. Play 'em if ya got 'em!

Tuesday

One pays a heavy price, at my age, for staying up all night and half-way into the following day. And what might that price be, Buck? Tell us! Tell us! (says the imaginary audience in my head) OK, since you asked… Fee Number One: You must repeat the process, i.e., you stay up all night, sleep most of the following day and stay awake into the wee hours again. Fee Number Two: Persistent lethargy on the day following your excess. And that was the story yesterday. I was up until 0500 Monday morning, slept until around 1100 and went through the rest of yesterday listing to port about six degrees. I think I’m all better now. I awoke at 0900 or thereabouts this morning and felt pretty good. I will get something meaningful accomplished today. And finally…there was a time when I could (a) stay out all night getting riotously drunk (or righteously, you decide), come home, shower, change clothes and go to work and put in a credible performance or (b) pull a succession of all-nighters at work towards the end of a project and (c) feel no pain on either count, relatively speaking. Ah, nostalgia.

So, I’m listening to Radio Paradise this morning at the exact moment they met their February fund-raising goal. The goal was pretty ambitious, too, as they successfully raised $62,000.00 during the month of February. Good on ‘em. I can rest assured the current soundtrack to my life will continue unabated for a while. But that’s not what I wanted to say… After announcing the goal had been met, followed by the de rigeur thank-yous, Bill plays the following set (chronologically reversed, as indicated):

9:01 am - The Psychedelic Furs - All That Money Wants
8:55 am - Pink Floyd - Money
8:52 am - The O'Jays - For the Love of Money
8:46 am - Todd Snider - Easy Money
8:44 am - Steve Miller Band - Take the Money and Run

Cute!

I haven’t put up a song of the day recently. And that’s because I haven’t been doing much listening these last few days; it was all-hockey, all weekend. And then there was the post orgy let-down, as described above. Life will be getting back to normal now. One item on my agenda today is to bring in all the CDs currently in the car, review, and re-stock. Restocking the car with music will probably result in at least one musical re-discovery. It happens all the time, to me, at least. I’ll let ya know…

It’s the last day of February and there’s a much better than even chance I’ll have to run the air conditioning this afternoon. Our forecasted high, believe it or don’t, is 88 degrees. It’s 76 as I write and it’s decidedly warm inside El Casa Móvil de Pennington. The balmy temps are accompanied by brisk winds (23 mph steady, gusts to 30 mph) unfortunately, and that means lotsa dust, and that, in turn, means I keep the windows and roof vents closed. More’s the pity. A warm day without the freakin’ wind would be much appreciated. S’funny how I can find something to complain about, ain’t it? I definitely should keep my mouth shut, coz the WX Channel’s web page tells me it’s 19 degrees, wind chill of 6, with light snow in Ra-cha-cha at the moment. I’ll take the wind and be glad about it, thank you.

A Couple of Fun Time-Wasters

Are you a bubble-wrap popper? Have you ever been without bubble-wrap and really, I mean REALLY, needed to pop something, anything? That sort of impulse isn’t healthy. Bookmark this page for future bubble-wrap droughts. Or go there right now for a few satisfying pops. Few, Hell! Do as many as you want…go into Manic Mode!! (And don’t thank me, thank Dr. Sanity.)

If you’re in need of something more challenging than bubble-wrap, there’s always Falling Sand. Becky introduced me to this game and beware! It’s seriously addicting! When I’ve had enough I simply burn the whole thing down…