Just a quick worry with the rest of the blog universe.
Rita strengthened to Category 5 today. Cat F-ing 5!!!!
I heard a couple minutes of an interview with the VP of Cuba earlier today. He mentioned that the temperature in the Gulf is up 9 degrees over prior years. That is what's fueling the rapid intensification of hurricanes in the Gulf this year.
And now that we've had Katrina and Rita blow up like Ah-nold on Steh-roids, is it too late to ask the Bush administration to reconsider their stance that "there is no global warning?"
If it wasn't for the impact of Katrina and Rita on gas prices, I'd say these storms serve Exxon, Texas and all the other Oil Profiteers right. On the other hand, these companies and their subsidiary states are not likely to suffer too much. Every cost they experience gets passed to us luckless consumers. Oh, and only the poorest die from these storms...
Yahoo just had the headline: Rita to push gas prices over $3.00 (again). Don't drop the soap in jail, or at the gas pump!
Just the same, say your prayers for Texas, Mexico, or wherever Rita finally hits. This looks bad.
Maybe with these storms it's time to permanently evacuate the Gulf Coast until the water temperature is restored to normal levels, and vote GREEN next election...!
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
CRIME HISTORY
Hey, here's amending what I wrote about getting the mower fixed yesterday.
I left the mower in the garage last night. Bad move. Next morning brought a brilliant sunshine, chirping birds and.... no lawn mower. Gone. Stolen.
Dammit!
I left the mower in the garage last night. Bad move. Next morning brought a brilliant sunshine, chirping birds and.... no lawn mower. Gone. Stolen.
Dammit!
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Fox Football Sunday?????!!!
It is Sunday: God's seventh created day and His day of rest, the kid's last day of play before the bondage of school, and my last day to fix the lawnmower before returning to the habitrail of employment. Sunday, that day when we do as the Lord says by keeping it holy. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
Yes it's Sunday, and for you TV watchers out there you know what that means... COMMERCIALS!
I Hate Sundays because Sunday is about football, and football is about waiting. Waiting for the when-the-hell-are they-ever-going-to-end commercials that deny me my constitutional right to actually watch a play.
When you are a kid playing in the empty lot by the house, you huddle, you run the play, you get tackled, you do the next huddle, run the next play, and repeat until touchdown or interception, at which time you start over and continue until your Mom calls you inside because it's dark and dinnertime. There is constant movement and, despite the huddles, fairly rapid play.
NOT SO IN THE NFL!
First you have the pregame shows and commercials.
Then the banter with the control center in NY, and commercials.
Then the flip of the coin and commercials.
Then the prekickoff and commercials,
The kickoff
commercials
several plays,
a quick commercial,
an injury & an official timeout
sandwiched in between commercials,
and then more
God
D****
Commercials!
****For the record, that's "Danged" above.
Sixty minutes run slow inside the black hole of television. Outside the TV hours, days, weeks, years go by. Civilizations rise and fall, your beard grows grey, the aliens land and stay for supper (to serve man).
So will someone please tell me, when is the revolution? I want to know where I can go to get my scythe or pitchfork. Lets all go kill and burn. Next stop, Castle NFL. Exterminate the coaches, lawyers, executives, and the rest of the parasitic classes.
Then nirvana will come. Sunday will be restored to sanctity - Quick plays called by the quarterback, commercials at the quarter or halftime only, and water on the sidelines (not fans blowing cooooool refreshing mist off of iceblocks made of Aquafina).
Right...
...After this brief commercial break.
************
Next Sunday's topic? Wired helmets, and an argument for Electronic Warfare on Gameday!
Yes it's Sunday, and for you TV watchers out there you know what that means... COMMERCIALS!
I Hate Sundays because Sunday is about football, and football is about waiting. Waiting for the when-the-hell-are they-ever-going-to-end commercials that deny me my constitutional right to actually watch a play.
When you are a kid playing in the empty lot by the house, you huddle, you run the play, you get tackled, you do the next huddle, run the next play, and repeat until touchdown or interception, at which time you start over and continue until your Mom calls you inside because it's dark and dinnertime. There is constant movement and, despite the huddles, fairly rapid play.
NOT SO IN THE NFL!
First you have the pregame shows and commercials.
Then the banter with the control center in NY, and commercials.
Then the flip of the coin and commercials.
Then the prekickoff and commercials,
The kickoff
commercials
several plays,
a quick commercial,
an injury & an official timeout
sandwiched in between commercials,
and then more
God
D****
Commercials!
****For the record, that's "Danged" above.
Sixty minutes run slow inside the black hole of television. Outside the TV hours, days, weeks, years go by. Civilizations rise and fall, your beard grows grey, the aliens land and stay for supper (to serve man).
So will someone please tell me, when is the revolution? I want to know where I can go to get my scythe or pitchfork. Lets all go kill and burn. Next stop, Castle NFL. Exterminate the coaches, lawyers, executives, and the rest of the parasitic classes.
Then nirvana will come. Sunday will be restored to sanctity - Quick plays called by the quarterback, commercials at the quarter or halftime only, and water on the sidelines (not fans blowing cooooool refreshing mist off of iceblocks made of Aquafina).
Right...
...After this brief commercial break.
************
Next Sunday's topic? Wired helmets, and an argument for Electronic Warfare on Gameday!
Sunday, September 11, 2005
9-11? Party Time at the White House
I'll update this with the official post tonight, but I cannot let another minute go by without wishing the presidency of George W. Bush a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!
Happy 9-11, President Bush. Happy Birthday to your presidency.
Let's not confuse this with "W's" personal birthday. When is the latter? Sorry to say, I don't know and I don't care. I'm sure Big Barb will have her negro servants bake him a big cake to celebrate the day he fell out of the lap of luxury. I'm sure there will be lots of pretty candles, and Big Barb could even invite some of the refugees from the Astrodome to come share in the festivities (what a photo op, call Rove!). That's such a wonderful thought: those negro refugees can't help but enjoy themselves. It's so different from what they are used to, living in New Orleans slums and public housing, and selling drugs, and looting and all. I'm sure she'll take the usual precautions when those of her kind associate with those of that other kind... put away the family silver and get out the Dixie Cups and plastic ware outside.
As to the special birthday of the Bush Presidency, 9-11 is the big day for that.
Up until 9-11, W was just some lame-o stumblebum elected by the Supreme Court after a lawyers' coup in Florida; a lame-o on extended vacation chopping wood and clearing Brush while his friends helped themselves at the public trough at your expense and mine. And, ok, that's still the case.
But on 9-11, with the "airlining" of the Twin Towers and Pentagon, and the loss of a fourth flight in the fields of Pennsylvania, George got his big break. No longer was he just Lame-o the President. No, now was his chance to play Commander-in-Chief.
When W climbed up on the rubble with his megaphone, in the company of hero's, he spoke the soundbite that made his presidency. What a wonderful and lucky day that was for him and his friends. Osama lit the candles, and W., Rummy, and the rest have been blowing them out ever since.
There's nothing like a war presidency to force the media and even your opponents to get into line. Or to enrich your friends.
So Happy birthday Mr. President. I hope you like your presents: Afghanistan and Iraq are yours. So are the thousands of dead and wounded American soldiers whose job it is to go where you command (note I didn't say "lead"... We can always count you to be as far from actual hostilities as possible). Enjoy your presents, Mr. President: even more thousands of dead Iraqi civilians - collateral damage from our own military, and victims of the civil war you've unleashed. Enjoy your presents, Mr. President: profits upon profits for your pals in "the private sector", profits courtesy of a vast and possibly unpayable federal debt.
Happy Birthday Mr. President. I know you've said you don't think about Osama anymore. But maybe sometime during your next vacation you could worry a little that he doesn't send another present your way.
Well, gotta go now. Draft two later.
Happy 9-11, President Bush. Happy Birthday to your presidency.
Let's not confuse this with "W's" personal birthday. When is the latter? Sorry to say, I don't know and I don't care. I'm sure Big Barb will have her negro servants bake him a big cake to celebrate the day he fell out of the lap of luxury. I'm sure there will be lots of pretty candles, and Big Barb could even invite some of the refugees from the Astrodome to come share in the festivities (what a photo op, call Rove!). That's such a wonderful thought: those negro refugees can't help but enjoy themselves. It's so different from what they are used to, living in New Orleans slums and public housing, and selling drugs, and looting and all. I'm sure she'll take the usual precautions when those of her kind associate with those of that other kind... put away the family silver and get out the Dixie Cups and plastic ware outside.
As to the special birthday of the Bush Presidency, 9-11 is the big day for that.
Up until 9-11, W was just some lame-o stumblebum elected by the Supreme Court after a lawyers' coup in Florida; a lame-o on extended vacation chopping wood and clearing Brush while his friends helped themselves at the public trough at your expense and mine. And, ok, that's still the case.
But on 9-11, with the "airlining" of the Twin Towers and Pentagon, and the loss of a fourth flight in the fields of Pennsylvania, George got his big break. No longer was he just Lame-o the President. No, now was his chance to play Commander-in-Chief.
When W climbed up on the rubble with his megaphone, in the company of hero's, he spoke the soundbite that made his presidency. What a wonderful and lucky day that was for him and his friends. Osama lit the candles, and W., Rummy, and the rest have been blowing them out ever since.
There's nothing like a war presidency to force the media and even your opponents to get into line. Or to enrich your friends.
So Happy birthday Mr. President. I hope you like your presents: Afghanistan and Iraq are yours. So are the thousands of dead and wounded American soldiers whose job it is to go where you command (note I didn't say "lead"... We can always count you to be as far from actual hostilities as possible). Enjoy your presents, Mr. President: even more thousands of dead Iraqi civilians - collateral damage from our own military, and victims of the civil war you've unleashed. Enjoy your presents, Mr. President: profits upon profits for your pals in "the private sector", profits courtesy of a vast and possibly unpayable federal debt.
Happy Birthday Mr. President. I know you've said you don't think about Osama anymore. But maybe sometime during your next vacation you could worry a little that he doesn't send another present your way.
Well, gotta go now. Draft two later.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Soccer that Sartre Would Love
It is very hard to write tonight. For two days, or more specifically, since the Guatamala game, I just haven't had the juice. Ugh. At least I am not deep in the throes of suicidal grief... the US didn't lose. But this existential nausea I cannot bear; this angst, this malaise, this meaninglessness, this utter pointless futility...
a zero-zero tie in Guatamala City.
Well, ok. So we (and by we I mean the USA) got a point out of it, the one point you get for a draw. But zero-zero? All you can do is shake your head and mourn over what shoulda been. WTF, Eddie Johnson, it seems like it would be harder to miss than score when you are 5 yards from the goal with a perfect cross to your head. And after Mexico schlacked Panama 5 - 0 and got their three points, they are back in first, albeit tied with the MLS's allstars (who did the honors last Wed night).
Oh well, as Bobby Kennedy should have said, "It's on to Costa Rica, and lets win there."
a zero-zero tie in Guatamala City.
Well, ok. So we (and by we I mean the USA) got a point out of it, the one point you get for a draw. But zero-zero? All you can do is shake your head and mourn over what shoulda been. WTF, Eddie Johnson, it seems like it would be harder to miss than score when you are 5 yards from the goal with a perfect cross to your head. And after Mexico schlacked Panama 5 - 0 and got their three points, they are back in first, albeit tied with the MLS's allstars (who did the honors last Wed night).
Oh well, as Bobby Kennedy should have said, "It's on to Costa Rica, and lets win there."
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
More U S A, U S A
What a great night tonight. Sharapova v ugly on USA. Then Agassi v Blake.
Then, as soon as baseball is done, Soccer: USA v Guatamala on ESPN2.
Such a night. TV that's BTS!
Then, as soon as baseball is done, Soccer: USA v Guatamala on ESPN2.
Such a night. TV that's BTS!
Saturday, September 03, 2005
U S A ... U S A... U S A
For one day I'm going to take a break from Bush bashing, despite the continued incompetence he displays each day.
I just took a 90 minute break from the Katrina disaster coverage to watch the World Cup Qualifier all truely patriotic American's have awaited since... since... I can't bring myself to sayit...
Ok, since the USA vs Mexico World Cup qualifier in Mexico city (which the US lost).
And the big event patriots have been awaiting? The rematch: USA vs Mexico in Columbus Ohio.
Oh happy day. Bells should be ringing in churches across the land. Traffic jams should be circling every major sports stadium across America (except, alas, N.O.). Throngs should be rushing into the streets waving the Red White and Blue, and screaming with joy.
USA 2, MEXICO 0
I just took a 90 minute break from the Katrina disaster coverage to watch the World Cup Qualifier all truely patriotic American's have awaited since... since... I can't bring myself to sayit...
Ok, since the USA vs Mexico World Cup qualifier in Mexico city (which the US lost).
And the big event patriots have been awaiting? The rematch: USA vs Mexico in Columbus Ohio.
Oh happy day. Bells should be ringing in churches across the land. Traffic jams should be circling every major sports stadium across America (except, alas, N.O.). Throngs should be rushing into the streets waving the Red White and Blue, and screaming with joy.
USA 2, MEXICO 0
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