Update: The Senate Sergeant-at-Arms warns congressional members to stay away from Drudge because they might get viruses. This is the same hysteria-mongering that gave us “Reefer Madness” and “Blood on the Highway”.
Another e-mail from a separate office warned that staffers who had visited the Drudge Report or White Pages had experienced viruses on their PCs.
“Please avoid using these sites until the Senate resolves this issue,” the e-mail read. “The Senate has been swamped the last couples (sic) days with this issue.”
Correlation does not equal causation. My guess is that the more likely culprit is the sheer amount of fetishist Tranny-Love pr0n being purveyed by our elected leaders and their cadre of lackeys.
As Drudge himself says, this sounds political.
But the Drudge Report suggested that politics might be behind the warning, noting in an original story that the e-mail came as the “health care drama in the Capitol reaches a grand finale.”
The Drudge Report noted that it served more than 29 million pages Monday without an e-mail complaint about “‘pop ups,’ or the site serving ‘viruses.'”
“The site was seen 149,967 times since March 1st from users at senate.gov and 244,347 times at house.gov. [10,825 visits from the White House, eop.gov]” the Drudge Report wrote.
“The Systems Administrator may want to continue taking her antibiotic until the prescription runs out.”
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My girl is seven years old. We do art together, we eat maraschino cherries together, eat hot-dogs and onion rings together, we talk about how tasty baby animals are together. We watch SpongeBob, Dirty Jobs, and Phineas and Ferb together. We make fun of critters with stinky feet and stinky butts (like dogs, for example) together.
Nothing special tonight. The dog is a vector graphic from scratch. Wah-hoo.
What father is against connecting with his little girl however he can? Soon enough she’ll be totally alien to me so I’m enjoying every moment of it now.
I bent down to kiss her “goodnight” on the top of her head just as she jumped up with a huge spring in her legs and her head slammed into my jaw just under the chin. Now, I’ve been hit at least that hard by fists many times before but usually it was when I was drunk. Here, I’m on painkillers.
Let’s just say I got a two-for-one on this. A jarring to the head (jawbone connects to the head-bone…head-bone connects to the… neck-bone) and a crack to the chin. Damn if my jaw, face, and head/neck don’t hurt! Well, hell, my neck already hurt but now my jaw does, too. Swollen and all throbby-like, too. The fact that I’m still feeling this on the meds tell me just how awesome of a hit that was. Luckily I’m not known for having a glass jaw.
She immediately said “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” and ran out of the room. I’m standing there holding my jaw and muttering “god-DAMN!” and she comes running back into the room going “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” and hands me something.
She had run out to get the little “Finding Nemo” kid-sized ice-pack out of the fridge. Holds it out to me and looks up and says “Sorry it’s kind of warm…. I have a head-ache” and rubs her head where we hit.
So… if you want to connect with your daughter, take my advice: Go get some onion rings at a Coney Island or something.
Update: 2:17am and the damn thing still smarts. This is ridiculous. Let it be known that even as girls, women are dangerous.
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By the pricking of my thumbs, something Wiccan this way comes… for your perusal, Elphaba.
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Lemur King's Folly 