Iced

In comments to the post below I said I'd spare ya the gross pics, Gentle Reader.  But not the rather humorous looking ones --  they're fair game.

It ain't all that funny, tho... in several different ways.

The First of What MIGHT Be a Few Re-Runs

This is one of those scheduled posts, sumthin' I drafted before we set out on our latest journey of a thousand steps 20-thousand Yankee Dollars.  I'll prolly be in recovery mode for at least 24 hours... what with six bleeding holes in my gums where teeth useta be... and with little or no inclination to put up the usual, customary, and reasonable semi-enlightened blog post.  You, Gentle Reader, get re-runs as a result, the first o' which are a few ruminations on my relationships with creepy-crawlies.  Beginning with this:

It’s WAR! Normally I’m a live-and-let-live kinda guy, and my tolerance extends to creatures great and small. Included in the “small” community are various bugs, with the exception of flies and mosquitoes, which are terminated immediately with extreme prejudice…always. Take spiders, for example. Spiders are generally good, as they eat other small critters and generally stay out of my way. And I enjoy their webs, which are both small-scale engineering feats and supremely artistic, as well…as anyone who’s seen an early morning web covered in sparkling dew will attest.

My tolerance ends, though, when spiders begin to overwhelm my personal space and get presumptuous about territory and such, thinking it’s theirs for the taking. While I love and appreciate outdoor webs I don’t like to see the things hanging off my table lamp, or worse, have a small spider drop down on a gossamer filament right in front of my face while I’m surfing the other web (heh). And that’s just in the front of the house. Things get worse, much worse, as you move to the rear of El Casa Móvil De Pennington. Lately I’ve been involved in a daily ritual that involves wiping away webs that have been spun overnight in both the bathroom and the kitchen, and the spiders have become so numerous that they’re scurrying around in plain sight. It’s time for a new strategy: we’re gonna surge.

It appears that GHQ Arachnid is located in the bathroom. Yesterday I took extreme measures on the HQ… emptying both bathroom cabinets, thoroughly cleaning out the spaces, and finishing off by liberally spraying the interiors of both cabinets and the surrounding baseboards with Raid. Result: no webs in the bathroom this morning. The kitchen will be a little more problematic because I don’t want to engage in unrestricted chemical warfare in that operational area. The risk of collateral damage (to YrHmblScrb, hisownself) is just too high. So we’ll just content ourselves with applying forceful thumb pressure on the little terrorists as they transit from nook to cranny. And waging chemical warfare along the baseboards and other spaces in the kitchen where the risk of collateral damage is low.

We have evidence the surge is working, as noted above. There will be NO political settlement, and we’ll take no prisoners. All I’m asking is a return to the status quo ante, or in other words, if the spiders stay in their space, I’ll stay in mine. 

Peace in our time.

That was but the first salvo in an on-going War Against Arachnids.  This is a follow-up:

In local news... I found this critter on my door this morning (click for larger):

I'm normally a "live and let live" kinda guy but I think this beastie will have to die. It committed the ultimate critter-crime: You DON'T invade MY space. He's a big sucker, too. 

This calls for chemical warfare.

We simply cannot let a "bugs" post go without posting this, for about the third time:

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 and we're done with dinner.  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. (ed: dead link)  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.  It's alive... and crawling ponderously around on the bartop.

“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,  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, even if the bugs are normally deep fried or steamed. My friend ate this one raw (and ALIVE, fergawd's sake!), though.  It was a day or two before I kissed her again.

Well, that last sentence isn't entirely true; it was more a matter of hours. True lust conquers all.

My apologies to you Gentle Readers that have been with me since Day One or thereabouts, coz you've seen this post a LOT.  That said, the above is my ALL-TIME favorite bug story and it loses not a whit of its humor and/or impact in the re-telling.  That would be in MY mind's eye, of course.  YMMV.  

Eight Miles In the Snow Without Shoes, Uphill, Both Ways...

Charles Krauthammer on the DNC...

Syndicated columnist Charles Krauthammer joined Bret Baier and Megyn Kelly on America’s Election Headquarters to give his take on First Lady Michelle Obama’s address and the first day of the Democratic National Convention.

“If I hear one more story about people walking eight miles in the snow without shoes, uphill, both ways, I’m going to start longing for a little Clint Eastwood spontaneity out here,” Krauthammer began, referring in part to a recurring theme that surfaced once again in San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro’s keynote address delivered tonight.

On the overall message of Tuesday’s speakers, he said the party “spoke endlessly” of government spending, and “re-enforced the notion that they are completely government-centered in their ideology.”

All of the above was part of this, but somehow got edited out:

Mr. Krauthammer also noted that he knew a lot about Barack Obama before Mrs. Obama's speech, but that he didn't know Mr. Obama went dumpster diving for his furniture, nor that he wore shoes that were too small. Those bits were edited out of the video above, too.  But we did learn that Mr. Obama cares, yanno?

Full disclosure:  yes, I watched Mrs. Obama's speech.  In its entirety, wherein I also learned that I have a heretofore unacknowledged masochistic streak.

―:☺:―

In other news... I watched Mrs. Obama quite by accident.  I was dozing away on the couch last evening when SN2 called at 2315 hrs to chat about the DNC and other stuff.  Sam knows I keep late hours and his hours were even later... seein' as how he lives on Eastern Time (but he's on leave this week).  So we chatted a bit and then he ran off to bed.  I tried to get back to sleep but the body/brain combination had other ideers, so we switched on Fox News just about the time Shelly gave her speech.  And we watched.

I'm trying to get back on a "normal" sleeping schedule, without much luck.  There's a reason for that: my Adventures In Modern Dentistry (Part Deux) begin tomorrow at 0730 hrs.  Dr. Thompson does all his surgeries just shortly after oh-dark-thirty, the rationale being he's at his best at that time.  Well, that's easy for HIM to say, much less so for me.  Tomorrow I'll have to (a) get up in what is usually the middle of my night, (b) endure a couple o' two hours in the dental chair shortly thereafter, and (c) do ALL that without the benefit of bein' even slightly caffeinated, for we must fast before we have five or six teeth removed.  AND there's to be no alcohol for 12 hours before and 24 hours after the procedure.  As for the alcohol... I can comply with the former demand, it's the latter bit I may have trouble with.

This otta be BIG FUN.

Bouncy Girl

That would be great-granddaughter Mya...

... with Grandson Sean spotting.  Taken in ABQ a while back, after a cooling rain shower.  As always, click to embiggen.

GOML!

Summer Is NOT Givin' Up

Yeah, I know:  it's still summer, technically, and the Autumnal Equinox is still nearly three full weeks away.  School is back in session and those college boys are playin' football (Why, yes.  Yes, we DID cheer, cheer for Ol' Notre Dame.) so there are more than a few Fall indicators extant.  But Ol' Ma Nature isn't letting us forget the fact it's still summer out there.  Witness:

Hot, hot, hot... and it's gonna stay like this fer a while.

Labor Day

Ladies and Gentlemen... The Rolling Stones!

“Let’s Drink to the Hard-Working People…”

You don’t think of the Rolling Stones…at least I don’t… when it comes to delivering socially-conscious messages in song. But I can’t, for the life of me, think of a more appropriate tune for Labor Day. So, it’s in that spirit that I give you “Salt of the Earth.” (lyrics here)

It’s interesting to note that Jagger dismissed this song as one written in “total cynicism.” While that may be true, I prefer to derive my own meaning from the lyrics… and in MY interpretation, those “hard working people” are indeed the “Salt of the Earth.” Screw a bunch of cynics.

On the other hand… I could have posted this tune (Hell, I’m gonna post it anyway), which is kinda-sorta appropriate for Labor Day, innit? Both of these songs are from “Beggars Banquet,” which… apropos of nothing… just might be The Stones’ best album.  (ed:  No it's not.  Exile On Main Street is.)

Factory girls: God Love ‘Em!

Enjoy your Labor Day, Gentle Reader.

Heh

News Item

From The Daily Caller:

President Barack Obama was greeted with fleeting applause and extended periods of silence as he offered profuse praise to soldiers and their families during an Aug. 31 speech in Fort Bliss, Texas.

His praise for the soldiers — and for his own national-security policies — won cheers from only a small proportion of the soldiers and families in the cavernous aircraft-hangar.

The audience remains quiet even when the commander-in-chief thanked the soldiers’ families, and cited the 198 deaths of their comrades in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The audience’s reaction was so flat that the president tried twice to elicit a reaction from the crowd.
“Hey, I hear you,” he said amid silence.

The selected soldiers who were arrayed behind the president sat quietly throughout the speech.
CNN and MSNBC ended their coverage of the speech before it was half-over.

Why am I not surprised?

Saturday

Damn that fanboi company, anyway!

And then there's this...



... which is better than the original by an order o' magnitude.  At least.  Axl?  Is that you?

From the Usual Source.

A Mind Like a Steel Trap

I'm wearing one of my favorite tee shirts (pic at right), and I was reminded of a story as I put it on today.

I wore this shirt while I was up in Leavenworth this past April and I asked grandson Sean if he knew what the logo/diagram was.  "No," he replied.  So I told him... it's a capsaicin molecule and he sez "Oh, yeah... chiles!"  

Now fast forward to last week when I was up in ABQ.  Sean sez to me "You'll like this, Grandpa."  "What?" sez I.  "You know your capsaicin tee shirt?" sez he.  "Yup," sez I.  And then he sez... "Well my chemistry teacher had the molecular diagram of capsaicin on the board on our first day of class and he asked the class if anyone knew what it was.  I raised my hand and said 'Yep... it's a capsaicin molecule.'"

I'm bettin' the chemistry teacher was floored.  As the title sez: A Mind Like a Steel Trap.

The boy takes after his father (AND his Mom).  His grandfather, too. 

The Best Speech at the GOP Convention...

... was this one, for my money:

Brilliant.  Great humor and truth.

While we're on the subject, Mr. Romney knocked it outta the park with his acceptance speech.  He was warm, personable, truthful, and respectful in his pointed repudiation of the Obama administration.  The speech was a real tour de force; I was most impressed.

Thievery... It's What We Do

That's from the Shoebox blog.  But you knew that, didn't ya?

Not Your Father's Air Force XXI

From the Usual USAF Source and a Cannon Airplane Patch press release...

Suite Digs at Cannon: The 27th Special Operations Wing broke ground this week on a new $12.4 million enlisted dormitory at Cannon AFB, N.M. The dorm, scheduled for completion in fall 2013, will house 96 airmen in separate quad bedrooms that share laundry and common areas in a suite-style arrangement, states a Cannon release. "We are working toward single occupancy and this will move us closer to that goal until future dorms are built," said TSgt. Matthew Smith, 27th Special Operations Civil Engineer Squadron project noncommissioned officer in charge. "The new dormitory is something that Air Force Special Operations Command has long awaited," added project chief Robert Ferry. "It's a step toward premier unaccompanied housing at Cannon." Civil engineers at Cannon began preparations for the project in April; officials ceremoniously hefted the project's first shovel loads of earth on Aug. 27. (Cannon report by A1C Xavier Lockley)

Sweet, indeed.  Here's a better image of the floor plan you can barely see in the corner of the pic above, even if ya embiggen it:

Private baths!  Closets!  A freakin' laundry room and a KITCHEN, even.  This is a far cry from the way I lived when I was a junior airman.  Hell, I had a roommate when I was a staff sergeant and we had communal latrines in the dorm I lived in.  The first time I ever had a room of my own was when I made tech sergeant, but I still had to share a bathroom with about 20 of my closest friends.  I shouldn't complain, though... at least I wasn't in the Navy.

Heh.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtack... And a LENGTHY Reminiscence

I've been on an '80s jag of late and I've had this post written in my head for about a week now... with some additions and more than a few subtractions.  But we shall try and put it up, and damn the torpedoes.  So.  The '80s, which is this, in part, for me:

It's my own design
It's my own remorse
Help me to decide
Help me make the most
Of freedom and of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever
Everybody wants to rule the world

[...]

So glad we've almost made it
So sad they had to fade it
Everybody wants to rule the world

This is a re-run, in that we've posted this tune before, simply because the song contains what I think is one of the greatest rhythm guitar breaks ever recorded...at 2:20, or so.  But we digress.  What we're on about is decades o' music and decades of our life.  Permit me...

We'll begin with the 60s.  Not the Sixties of conventional wisdom, which began with Woodstock in 1969 and ended with Altamont, in that same year.  One could make a case that the '60s lasted well into the '70s, but we'll forgo THAT, wanting instead to talk about decades.  The '60s... for me... began with teenage angst, given that I graduated from high school in 1963.  I went into the Air Force in that same year (1963), suffered the grief and psychic damage of the JFK assassination shortly thereafter, endured the loss of my mother to suicide in 1964, and married for the first time in 1966.  This decade was highlighted by the birth of my two adult sons, which was the high water mark of the decade, for me.  Altogether a mixed bag, highlighted (musically) by the British Invasion with the Beatles and the Stones and all the others.

And then we moved into the '70s, a decade in which we saw our first marriage fail, fell into a life that could have turned out MUCH worse than it did (think: three felonies before breakfast, see item 10), met The Second Mrs. Pennington and fell in glorious, delirious love, and ended up launching our second marriage, followed closely by buying my very first house.  Yet another mixed bag, albeit one that ended on a VERY high note.  Musically?  Very, very good, actually.  That said... when I listen to music from that time I'm haunted by what might have been.  Which is NOT a warm and fuzzy feeling.

So we come to the '80s, which, to mis-quote Dickens (but check out the full quote which applies, in spades) was the best o' times...with none of that "worst" shit, mainly coz it was ALL good.  We began this decade with the best assignment in my USAF career... to RAF Uxbridge in the London borough of Hillingdon.  Those three years... from 1980 'til 1983... passed oh-so-much quicker than they should have, and that's coz time ALWAYS flies when yer havin' fun.  We hung up the Blue Suit in 1985 and launched our civilian career by moving to Dee-troit, where we signed on with Ed's Famous Data company.  TSMP and I lost our collective asses in the oil-bust of 1985 (didja ever take a check to closing when you SOLD a house?  Me either, until we left Oklahoma, when we watched ALL of our equity and a large piece of our savings vanish in the proverbial puff o' smoke.), but we recovered and bought the best house we ever owned shortly thereafter.  I also became a hockey fan during this decade, igniting a life-long love affair those Wings.  The '80s marked the point in time when we began making some serious money, too... so I look back on that decade with GREAT fondness.  The music that was the soundtrack of that era remains among my favorites, with good reason.

Then came the '90s, which, in a word, sucked.  My lifetime apocalypse happened in 1998 when the maid quit and everything that came after that was just so much stage dressing.  The ONLY bright spot in that dismal decade was the birth of SN3 and even that happy event is fraught with bitter memories of good times I never had.  Forgettable in its entirety, as was the music.

The 2000s were a mixed bag, as well.  I hit the pinnacle of my civilian career, what with taking another job out in San Francisco... which came outta the blue and was completely unexpected.  Digression: I "retired" in 1999 and really didn't expect to work again until a buddy called me up and made me an offer I couldn't refuse.  The offer was a great one:  we hired on with a magical six-figure salary (plus bonus) and got promoted to the exalted position of Director (my tongue is FIRMLY in my cheek) before we quit in 2002.  It was a good run, professionally speaking, but ultimately proved to be hollow... what the Hell was I working for, anyway?  We did manage to pad the 401k a bit, getting to the point where we could retire, permanently.  So we left SFO in 2002 and arrived in P-Ville for a "one month visit" with SN1, who was stationed at Cannon Airplane Patch at the time.  And we're still here even though SN1 and fambly are LONG gone.  Go figure.  

The music of the Oughties?  Eminently forgettable and I attribute my Old Fart status as the reason.  Nothing in today's music resonates with me at all.

My but we do go on, eh?  And all by way of sayin' that I'm thoroughly enjoying the music of the '80s these last few days... or weeks.  Now you know why.

Holy Cow!

A recent e-mail exchange:

When I say "largesse," I mean LARGEsse.  We're talkin' $92.50 worth o' cigars here, which are MOST appreciated.  Now do all y'all understand why I love doin' bid'niz with these guys?

By way o' explanation: I'm sure this was Tim's way o' makin' up for the Postal Service's fuck-up a couple o' weeks ago, even though it most certainly was not HIS fault.

I think I shall now retire to the verandah for a cool beer and one of those Deep Dishes.

If I Had A Queen, She'd Look Like This

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

An Old Friend Comes Home

That old friend would be an artist's proof print serigraph by American Impressionist Henri Plisson (bio here, scroll down) called "The Red Door," which now hangs above my couch, like so:

The Second Mrs. Pennington and I bought that print back around 1991 or so and it graced every home we made from that time until we were over... and graced my bachelor quarters after that.  The fact that the print "came home" is a longish story, the Reader's Digest version being that SN1 and DIL Erma have been in possession of the print ever since I ran away from home.  Times change and the print was excess to requirements in the current SN1 household, so I have it back on loan.

I think it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the digs, don't you?

Update, 1600 hrs:  I shoulda added this, from an e-mail conversation with DIL Erma:

Further... from another web site:

"Henri Plisson was born in Omaha, Nebraska as Patrick Ryan. He later embraced the name of Henri Plisson to be used in his impressionist paintings. He originally attended the University Of Nebraska, but continued his studies at the University Of Southern California. It was here that he obtained his Master of Fine Arts Degree. Many feel Plisson's style of painting used seemingly inherent methods which he combined with a unique sense of color and dynamic and lustrous images. "Painting is elusive. It is very difficult to verbalize, as you're putting into words something that speaks on its own," says the artist. This modern American Impressionist's works are currently displayed by some very distinctive corporate and private collectors.   "

Heh.  I'm distinctive now.

Ya, that's us.  Distinctive.  Heh.

Eyes On the Skies

Isaac certainly has everyone's attention...

I'm thinking a 50 cent per gallon increase in gas prices would be the least of our problems if stuff gets bad.  Our best thoughts go out to our friends on the Gulf Coast.

Speaking of... there's this:

Preparing for Isaac: Airmen at Air Force bases along the Gulf Coast continued making preparations for Tropical Storm Isaac on Aug. 27 as the storm worked its way up the Gulf of Mexico towards New Orleans after having passed between southern Florida and Cuba. Eglin Air Force Base in Florida's panhandle remained in hurricane condition three as officials prepared for winds up to 52 knots and at least a foot of rain through Aug. 29. F-16s from the base were relocating to Shaw AFB, S.C., while its F-15s were headed to Seymour Johnson AFB, N.C., according to an Eglin release. However, the 19 F-35s of Eglin's F-35 schoolhouse would hunker down in hangars built to withstand hurricane-strength winds, said Eglin officials. MC-130Es from Eglin's Duke Field were evacuated to Fort Campbell, Ky., according to a Duke release. And, airmen at Hurlburt Field, which adjoins Eglin, on Aug. 26 evacuated the majority of the base's airplanes to Little Rock AFB, Ark., stated a Hurlburt release. KC-135s assigned MacDill Air Force Base near Tampa relocated to Pease ANGB, N.H., and McGhee-Tyson ANGB, Tenn., while F-22s from Tyndall AFB, Fla., on Aug. 26 moved to Sheppard AFB, Tex. Meanwhile, airmen at Keesler AFB, Miss., also remained under HURCON 3, as they prepared for Isaac, according to a base release.

That's from the Usual USAF Source.

And while we're on about things USAF... I raised my right hand and swore "... that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic..." 49 years ago today.  A few weeks later the lil blurb you see on the left appeared in a local SoCal rag.

Dang.  I'll celebrate my 50th-freakin'-anniversary the next time this date rolls around.  Un-bee-leeb-able.

Ramirez

The Chicago Weasels.  Heh.

In other news... we shall be departing ABQ later on this morning.  We're gonna take the long way home and won't be arriving back in P-Ville until sometime tomorrow.  Blogging might could be light as a result.

More From Curiosity

NASA released a hi-def video of Curiosity's landing today and it's pretty cool:

And then there's this:

Meanwhile, the Mars rover Curiosity has completed its first drive, NASA scientists announced Wednesday, proving that it's capable of moving farther afield on the Red Planet. "It couldn't be more important. We built a rover, so unless the rover roves, we really haven't accomplished anything," said Curiosity Project Manager Pete Theisinger at Wednesday's news conference. "The fact that we completely exercised it, and everything was on track, is a big moment."

Everything seems to be in order and I STILL find this project amazing, in each and every way.  You GO, NASA!

What's For Dinner, Buck?

That would be DIL Erma with a plate o' home-made Thai beef salad, which we consumed immediately after taking this picture.  There will be seconds, later.

Yum.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

DIL Erma and I were discussing folks we know and love during today's Happy Hour and this song came up...

I never knew a man
could tell so many lies
He had a different story
for every set of eyes.
How can he remember
who he's talkin' to?
'Cause I know it ain't me,
and I hope it isn't you.

This is a classic case o' you hadda be there and you weren't, Gentle Reader.  But we were.  And we know this person all too well.

Apropos o' not much... we did a couple o' fingers o' that Woodford Reserve to kick off Happy Hour, followed by a Fat Tire.  I coulda done more o' that Woodford, but we didn't wanna get totally shit-faced this early in the day.  We'll save THAT for later this evening.  Good stuff, that Woodford Reserve.

The Kid In the Candy Store

So... we go the Big City where there are REAL likker stores and went slightly nuts in one such this afternoon.  To wit:

I bought the Rye as a re-supply action and the Woodford Reserve because we can't get it in P-Ville.  Now we have a two-week supply o' the Good Stuff, plus what's already in the likker locker at home.  But tell me again why I'm not movin' here... coz Enquiring Minds™ wanna know.

Saturday

It must be because it's August... the Usual Source for viral vids didn't update again this week.  So it's off to the alternate source for this:

Want.  I've destroyed at least three keyboards in my lifetime, mostly with alcohol.  A washable keyboard would be a Good Thing, fer me.  Coz I'm klutzy.

Help!

So, there I was... batting down I-40 at 80 mph yesterday when this quote/bit/piece o' monolog comes on XM/The Loft in between songs that made me laugh right the hell out loud.  Some dude sayin' sumthin' like this:

Things I don't have to do...
Get up before noon.
Finish what I'm doin'.
Quit drinkin'.

And there might have been one other, but by the time I began paying SERIOUS attention the thing was gone and the music started up again.  I've spent about an hour googling this and searchin' the Tube O' You but I've come up empty.  I REALLY want to hear this piece again coz it's SO me.  Does anyone recognize this?  Is it from a movie?  What?  Help!

Good Stuff In the Mail This Morning

First, from My Buddy Ed In Florida... Tech Support:

Heh.  OK, it's a stereotype but it's cute.  That said, SOME of us superannuated types don't need no tech support, thank ya.

Occasional Correspondent Lin sends along the following for us Anglophiles...

Once again, cute.  But I wouldn't have one of those Mini thangs if you GAVE me one.   Reason:  it's a front-driver and Daddy don't do no FWD.

And now it's time to hit the shower, and then the road!

Yum! (And Other Thangs)

Apropos o' everythang, this:

I say that coz we're off to ABQ tomorrow to spend time with DIL#1 and fam'bly.  Mayhap I could talk her into having dinner at El Pinto while I get a half-bag o' chiles, roasted especially fer ME...

―:☺:―

We were gonna take off and go to ABQ this past weekend but I was held hostage by the USPS.  That's coz SN1's birthday is tomorrow and I was waiting for Godot... err... a shipment o' cee-gars from cigar.com that never arrived... until yesterday.  I had ordered a box o' SN1's favorite smokes, half o' which I intended to re-ship to him for his birthday.  But those kind and oh-so-efficient folks at the post office decided it would be a Good Thang to send my shipment to Puerto Rico, the upshot o' which was I didn't actually receive said shipment until yesterday, when it was far, far too late to re-ship.  But we had a Plan B, whereby we contacted the ever-helpful Tim at cigar.com and got him to ship directly to SN1 at his Undisclosed Location^TM in the desert.  Then I find out from SN1 that he's gonna go off on a TDY to yet another Undisclosed Location^TM on his birthday, which is tomorrow.

You just can't win sometimes.  But I guess his birthday present will be waiting for him when he returns early next week.  And then we should see a photo like this:

SN1 at Kandahar, in the near wayback.

Hopefully.

―:☺:―

In other news... we made a Command Decision: we're gonna go the implant route on our upcoming Adventures In Modern Dentistry, Part Deux.  We briefly flirted with getting a partial plate... at half the cost of implants... as an option, but we decided against that and are goin' to go the full-implant route.  I just don't wanna mess with false teeth and all the hassle that option involves.  It's a "quality o' life" decision and one that I HOPE I'll live to appreciate, which might could be problematic given my advanced age.  But, Hey!  Whatevah.  Ribs and corn on the cob will be viable options in future, dontcha know.  The launch date for our latest AiMD is set for 09/06/2012, when we'll lose six teeth in preparation for the follow-on implants and stuff.  But his latest adventure should only take a maximum of 45~60 days, or so I'm told... not like the two year journey o' times past.  We takes what we gets.

I Got Nuthin'

Well, little or nuthin', actually.  This got a wry grin outta me:

It really pains me to throw food away but it DOES happen from time to time.  Cooking for One will do that to ya, especially when most food packaging is designed for families rather than single people.  That said, I don't come CLOSE to throwing 40% of my food away.  The high end estimate would be quite a bit less than ten percent, if I had to guess.

And I'm not fat, either. 

This Shit Pisses Me Right Off

That would be this:

Blogger asks us to "prove you're not a bot" while Wordpress just gives us indecipherable words that sometimes takes up to three tries to get right (Blogger's WV is indecipherable at times, too).  It's ALMOST enough to make a body decline to comment on the blogs that use this shit.  My biggest problem/issue is the fact bots don't type... so WHY does the word picture have to be so fucked up?  Why not use straightforward text?

There's no reason to use word verification if you're on Blogger.  Google has got that spam-catching thang down to a veritable, fail-proof science.  I can't recall the last time an actual spam comment made it on to EIP. 

Interesting

One hopes this might could be a harbinger of Election 2012...

You can find the interactive map and explanations here.  I'm hopeful, but at the same time ya gotta consider that Righties are more thoughtful... and better read... than Lefties.  Generally speaking.

Via a tweet from Blake Hounshell.

A Boon!

Verily...

Blessed relief from all those triple-digit temps we've had of late.  It's just sooo nice outdoors at the moment that I think we'll have an extended Happy Hour this afternoon... just because.

"F*ck Yeah!"

Hockey Players

Yeah, they're like that... God Love 'Em!

From an amusing lil article titled "10 of the worst acting performances by NHL players in commercials" (and that WASN'T one of 'em).

Get 'Em Early

I thought this was cute...

Air Frame: A young visitor, flanked by two airmen, gives the thumbs-up sign after donning a pilot's helmet at the B-52 heritage exhibit at the Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space Museum pier in Manhattan during Air Force Week in New York City, Aug. 20, 2012. (AFA staff photo by Lois O'Connor) (Click on image above to reach wallpaper larger version.)

From the Usual USAF source, of course.  I was curious about the major's patch, so I googled it.  Here's a larger version:

Me likee.