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Archive for May, 2011

Update 2: 

I missed this but I found out from the wife…  Girlhead saw a few of the older vets in the Memorial Day parade and asked Cruel Wife “Mom, were those guys in the Army?”

“Well, they were in the Armed Services, all vets were.”

She said “Can I go thank them?”

“You sure can – let’s go.”

And so she did – walked up to one of them and said “Thank you.”

He smiled and said “You’re welcome.”

I would have said something deep and profound to Cruel Wife about that but at that moment something really huge flew in my eye.

Update:

My five year old son, missing all his front teeth as part of the “Planned Obsolescence of Childhood Schedule” (AKA “POCS” or just pronounced POX) just ran in and said lispingly “Girlhead is trying to give me a Texas Wedgie!”

I goggled at him.  “Not an atomic wedgie but… A… A… A Texas Wedgie?  That sounds like a really big wedgie!”

He said “Yeah!” and then he ran away.

Aggie, or some other Texas person… what is a Texas Wedgie?

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After a few discussions about the age that women claim to be I’ve done a bit of research.

This is an area of investigation fraught with peril and is like tapdancing in a minefield full of twisted metal, broken glass, angry rabid rodents, and… well… mines.

But for the sake of science I will publish my conclusions.  Men!  Who will stand with me?  Men?

Hang on, I must catch up with the others, for I am their leader.

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Thank you Fark, for recognizing this for what it really is:  NOT A CATASTROPHE THAT NEEDS FIXING.

Report: Over a third of students entering college need remedial help

Fark’s headline?

Report shows over a third of incoming college students need remedial help. Back in subby’s day, they used to say those people weren’t college material, not treat them like snowflakes and patronize them

At what point do you finally say “No the system didn’t fail the children, perhaps they just aren’t cut out for it”?

Put another way:  Not everyone is cut out to be an astronaut, a doctor, or a SEAL.  Suck on that Disney.

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Wow.  Someone in Missouri is on the lookout for the exploited strippers.

But Dick Bryant, a lawyer for Kansas City’s adult entertainment industry, said the clubs are following the law, in part because he claimed the dancers only appear to be topless. The exposed breasts, he said, are actually covered by a thin layer of opaque latex.

“Once they’re covered, none of the rest of the law applies,” Bryant argued.

Remember Blade Runner?

Deckard:    Excuse me, Miss Salomé, can I talk to you for a minute? I’m from the American Federation of Variety Artists.
Zhora:       Oh, yeah?
Deckard:    I’m not here to make you join. No ma’am. That’s not my department. Actually, uh. I’m from the, uh, Confidential Committee on Moral Abuses.
Zhora:        Committee of Moral Abuses?
Deckard:    Yes, ma’am. There’s been some reports that the management has been taking liberties with the artists in this place.
Zhora:        I don’t know nothing about it.
Deckard:    Have you felt yourself to be exploited in any way?
Zhora:        How do you mean, exploited?
Deckard:    Well, like to get this job. I mean, did you do, or- or were you asked to do anything lewd or unsavory or otherwise, uh, repulsive to your person, huh?
Zhora:        Ha. Are you for real?
Deckard:    Oh yeah. I’d like to check your dressing room if I may.
Zhora:         For what?
Deckard:    For, uh, for holes.
Zhora:         Holes?
Deckard:    You’d be surprised what a guy’d go through to get a glimpse of a beautiful body.
Zhora:        No, I wouldn’t.
Deckard:    Little, uh, dirty holes they uh, drill in the wall so they can watch a lady undress. — Is this a real snake?
Zhora:        Of course it’s not real. Do you think I’d be working in a place like this if I could afford a real snake? — So if somebody does try to exploit me, who do I go to about it?
Deckard:    Me.
Zhora:        You’re a dedicated man.

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Before we go into losers and art, here is a heartfelt thank you to all veterans for allowing those of us who haven’t served to have the wonderful country we do.

That’s the long and the short of it.  Thank you.

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The man says he’s addicted to sausages.

Drug addicts crave their fix, and it’s the same for me – except my drug is a banger.   – Sausage wanker David Harding

Well, what the hell man isn’t?

But I’ll tell you this:  We don’t run about whining about it and wasting money on psychotherapy and hypnosis in order to stop.

We just die ten years earlier than our spouses and count it a fair bargain.

Real men look down upon sad sacks like this and wonder if stem cells will allow them to someday grow this guy a spine in a petri dish.

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I’m glad that people have liked the Coelacanth Eco-dollars Coffee Mug.  It makes me glad when someone drinks coffee with an endangered critter.  There are more styles (denominations) of coffee cups to be had, so feel free to see if there’s something you like or suggest a different one.

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More later…

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Well that was a lot of fun today.

First off, I totally Yorl’ed out and got a leather duster – it was a Christmas present but I never ordered it, instead opting to buy after trying it on again.  Glad I did.  I needed an extra inch in the shoulders plus some room to put on flannel or other shirt to stay warm in Michigan winters.  The duster comes to just above my ankles and that is exactly what I hoped for – something to keep the winter wind away from my body – it can be awful windchill suckiness at times.

Would you believe Cruel Wife pretty much insisted that I get it?

Later… Good news.  I was able to contact the artisan directly and correct a misunderstanding on my part – damn my bad hearing (you won’t find me saying that often).   I was trying to talk to two sales reps and hear what they were saying, listen to Cruel Wife, stare at passers-by, and read lips – all over the noise of the crowd.  I had thought that the mantle was removable but found I was mistaken.  So after a quick couple of e:mails the lady who makes this stuff said she’d make it removable at no extra cost.  Awesome.

Here is what it will mostly look like except mine will have the removable mantle.


Here is Phil Foglio and his staff.  Opted to protect his identity but he’s easily recognizable from his self-portraited cartoon in the Girl Genius series.  Funny fella to listen to giving a talk.   Here he was taking a serious break.

Below, she’s all wound up.  Very well done outfit with the subtle yet superb wind-up key in the back.  I thought it was best of show, honestly.  No idea who this is. 

We went to a “Steampunking your Home” thing (or something to that effect).  The guy from ModVic and SteamPuffin (http://www.facebook.com/ModVic) gave a talk about finding the raw materials and inspiration for Steampunk creation.  Absolutely fascinating talk – an hour flew by and it was easily the best part of the whole day.

This lamp was my favorite piece in the whole place besides a projector that had been repurposed – it was the old lamp/wick style projector.   Why no pic?  Because it wouldn’t have done it justice, that’s why.  I didn’t even bother.

Somebody really cares a great deal for a friend or family member.  Look at all the work that must’ve gone into making this wheelchair.  I really apologize for the nasty orange wood color and the overexposure – but I don’t want to spend the effort to fix it because that post right behind it is going to make it look nasty unless I spend time addressing it directly.  Ugh.  I expected better from the Hyatt, but oh well.

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Scroll down to the “Gelatin filled Christmas Ornament (on keyboard)… wicked awesomeness.

http://www.boingboing.net/2011/05/26/moment.html

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Ha!  I KNEW IT!!!  Thank you, Fark, for shedding light on the matter.

Secret to a happy marriage?  Delusion.

Take sentences out of the article out of context is absolutely frightening…

Those who inflated their partner’s assets also reported being more happily married.

Is that anything like “Pumping his junk”?

If the couple is happily married, it could be that the better half of the couple has an idealistic vision of the lesser half.

Which might explain why Cruel Wife puts up with my bullsh*t.

I’ve always said she was delusional.

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World Steampunk Expo is tomorrow.  Cruel Wife and I will be attending sans kids.  Last time one or two attendees were a bit spooky and the kids were into everything.   Getting into everything is fine if the stuff on the vendors’ tables is meant to be gotten into but they were behind and underneath tables and touching “do not touch” things, which was stressful and didn’t allow for browsing much.

I’ll see if I can snap some pictures.  Tomorrow morning we’re going to show up for the Professors Foglio demo, where they show how they create the graphics for Girl Genius.

****

Watched another of my favorite movies tonight.

I am fully aware that it got a lot of not-so-good reviews and even had to go look up a word:  Mawkish.

I’m afraid I just don’t see it though.

I’d probably help readers by passing on the name.  Bicentennial Man.

It’s one of those movies, like Secondhand Lions, where the viewer has to bring something to the party.  If all one can bring to the experience is a soul with shallow depths as yet unplumbed, then of course one will see nothing of value.

Oh sure, I can see how someone might say “mawkish” when describing the movie but what I can’t see is how someone could not look at their life and see a little bit of truth reflected there.

And it could be viewed as sad or maybe even bittersweet (not quite the word I’m searching for though).  One would have to be blind to not see the contrast between the humor, sadness, callousness, and insightful moments and perhaps you could even choose to ignore parts of it, buffet-style.  I argue that it would be a disservice to one’s self to ignore the sad and take in only the good because put simply that is what makes life noteworthy.   It’s the highs and the lows that are the scaffolding that props up the metaphors of our life as we segue from one into the next.

Yes, I know it is exceedingly odd to go from Duke Nukem Forever to this.  No, I haven’t been drinking.

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Over at Science Daily where real science is never allowed to get between a reader and sensationalism.

There is water inside the moon — so much, in fact, that in some places it rivals the amount of water found within Earth.

One who doesn’t read a lot of science papers and proposals would probably say “Ho-leeeee-shiat!  There could be space fish on the moon!”

That sentence tells you absolutely nothingNothing at all.

Take a shovelful of lunar soil, pluck out the one rock that has a perfect tablespoon of water sealed up in the center.  Now you have water inside the moon and in some places (one) it rivals the amount of water found within Earth.

Elsewhere on Earth, scientists have studied the sphericity of the electron and found it to be spherical to within one umpteenooglity-eth of a meter.

Researchers from Imperial College London conducted a decade-long laser experiment on the subatomic particle and discovered that it differs from a perfect sphere by less than 0.000000000000000000000000001 of a centimeter — so that “if the electron were magnified to the size of the solar system, it would still appear spherical within the width of a human hair.”

“I don’t know of any naturally-occurring object that is rounder and has been measured to the same level of accuracy,” said research leader Dr. Jony Hudson, writing in the journal Nature.

[Note:  I’m sure that cbullitt over at Soylent Green has some pitchers of underboob that is significantly rounder than that.]

“Why is that important?” the authors were asked.

“Well, we really don’t know but if you give us a lot more money we’ll see if we can make some guesses at it.”

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Over at PopSci there’s an article about really sharp blades and cutting through things like pop cans with knives.

Which is really cool and all.

But invariably you have some “I Know ****ing Everything” jackass who writes comments like this and it really chaps my ass.

JediMindset   05/26/11 at 10:20 pm

@inaka_rob
mythbusters are liars. they are paid to misinform their audience. i can do this with a blunt butter knife. its all about technique.

Well, you’ll have to watch the video, but when some wanker says something incredibly stupid like “i can do this with a blunt butter knife” I want to use my godlike abilities to freeze the world, put the guy on a stage, unfreeze the world and have every one of 6+ billion souls watch him as he performs an epic FAIL with his blunt butter knife.  And then if I actually had such powers I’d allow all 6+ billion people the chance to wedge one of their shoes in his ass and send him on his way.  And then he’d have to walk 20 miles home – with all 6+ billion shoes up his ass.

This is probably why I have no godlike powers.

And then someone needs to show him how to use capital letters.  Peeve of mine.  The wanker.

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Yes, never mind that no seismologist has ever predicted an earthquake.

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No, I don’t mean the movie, although it was a great flick.

Instead I am referring to the results of the wonderful propaganda campaign arguments given by concerned readers to estrogen tyrant Cruel Wife in an attempt to give me my very own copy of Duke Nukem: Balls of Steel collector’s edition.   I’m on a misogynist scatological juvenile wet-dream Duke Nukem high.

Yes, it is $35 more.  But a BUST OF THE DUKE, man!   CW said “What comes with BoSE that you want so much?”

I was horribly frustrated.  Are we so out of sync that she couldn’t see the obvious?

I wrote:

What do I want so much??? Did you look at the picture?  Did you listen when I described what came with it?  (I was frothy by now)
It’s got a bust of Duke!  It has Duke Nukem dice!  It has radioactivity bumper stickers!  A collector’s comic book!  Duke Nukem poker chips!  Duke Nukem postcards!  Duke Nukem art book!  It even has it’s own serialized Proof of Duke Nukem Officialness certificate!

She didn’t understand it, but she relented agreed to it this evening.

This is a triumph.  I’m making a note here: Huge Success.  It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction.  At LemurKing’sFolly, we do what we must, because we can.

ID10T Killer at work is getting one, too, so it only makes sense that I should be allowed to more fully share common experiences with co-workers/friends, right?  Delivery on June 14, of 2011.

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Man says he is robbed by woman with “real big thighs”.  God what a storytelling.

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Honest truth?  We should all be allowed to go in a cool way like this – saving the life of someone that means everything to us.  Good on you, Don Lansaw.  And so sorry for your loss, Bethany Lansaw.   Your fella was a true hero, one you can be proud of.

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More later.

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Update below…

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One burglar killed the other in critical as homeowner protects his home.  Guess it’s not a good idea to steal guns from a gun-loving family.

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I have a dilemma.

Should I get Duke Nukem Forever for $55 or the Duke Nukem Forever: Balls of Steel Edition for $99?     I mean you get a giant bust of Duke,  playing cards, dice, postcards, a collector’s item artbook, casino chips, and oh yes, the game, too.  Look it up on Amazon.  You’ll see.

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Look carefully at this picture and see if you notice anything unusual about it.  You may have to click to embiggenify it.

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Update:

Pressing discs?  Duke Nukem has gone Gold?  Until Duke Nukem Forever is actually on my hard drive and I’m shooting bad guys I’m not going to truly believe it 100%.

Mundus vult decipi.  (the world wants to be deceived)

Oh, how I want to be deceived.

****

Physicals.

Everybody loves them right?  Right guys?

Yes, you chicks out there have it worse, I know this.  But another’s suffering does not negate yours nor does it invalidate it even partially.

I went in to see my GP today – we’ll call him Dr. FishBait for reasons I will not fully explain – I respect his privacy even if it is (as you will see shortly) not a reciprocated sentiment.

He listens to the heart, lungs, checks the throat, nose, ears, etc.

Dr. Fishbait:  Ears are good except a bit of earwax.

Me: (grumpily) Good, make candles then.

Dr. Fishbait:  Nah, they don’t burn well.

Me:  Huh?

Dr. Fishbait:  We tried in medical school.  Just doesn’t burn well.

Me:  No, don’t tell me details… I don’t want to know.

Dr. Fishbait:  Ok, drop drawers.

Me:  Hey!  Your favorite part and mine!  No, seriously doc, is this absolutely necessary?

Dr. Fishbait:  (looking at me blandly) They tell me I have to do it.

Me:  They?  What do They know?  I mean, I’m only [age redacted].

Dr. Fishbait:  Well, there’s really no incontrovertible proof for prostate checks at your age just as there’s really no proof that listening to your lungs will find something we aren’t already looking for.

Me:  Good deal, we can skip the poop chute thing, then…

Dr. Fishbait:  Nope.

(I stared at him unblinking for a few seconds)

Dr. Fishbait:  If I find one person in 30 years that it catches something early it is worth it.

Me:  You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you’re going to invoke the “if it saves one child/kitten” argument…?

Dr. Fishbait:  Yep.  Over there, please.

Me: (grumbling) I still think this is total bullshi … holy shi… whoa, whoa, WHOA, DOC!  You just bruised one of my goddamned tonsils!  What, is your index finger three feet long?

Dr. Fishbait:  Prostate is good.

Me:  Sh*t, I could have told you that.

You know I can embellish stories at times.  Not here though.  That was absolutely verbatim.  We have a strange relationship, my doctor and I.

Later…

Dr. Fishbait:  You know, your heart rate was a bit elevated…

Me:  I was excited to see you.

Still laterer…

Dr. Fishbait:  (looking around for my clothes which were folded neatly in a corner)  Where are your clothes?

Me: (in hospital gown)  I didn’t bring any.  I wore this here today just to see you.

Still latererer…

Dr. Fishbait:  How’s your neck?

Me: Tell the truth and shame the devil?  Getting worse.  I’m about to see another specialist for a second opinion.

Dr. Fishbait:  What percentage of the time are bad days?

Me:  Oh, as little as 80% of the time.  I’m pretty sure nerves have regenerated.  Just a few months ago I was saying “no more treatments”.  I’m starting to reconsider.

The usual exam results – quit drinking, smoking crack, sports sex, lead pipe cruelty, eat more leafy greens and less ruminant brains.

Except I don’t drink, smoke crack, engage in sports sex, or eat ruminant brains.

****

Seriously?

Alaska… Fish and Wildlife… no tasering of wildlife for catch-and-release.  Well that doesn’t make sense.  You never know with bears.  The right to keep and arm bears is a fundamental right, I’m told.  It’s all Constitutional-like.

Fishing with a taser on the other hand seems ridiculous when you could just use dynamite instead.

****

The question to ask yourself… after you read this quote from FoxNews:

As crestfallen followers of a California preacher who foresaw the world’s end strained to find meaning in their lives, Harold Camping revised his apocalyptic prophecy Monday, saying he was off by five months because the Earth actually will be obliterated on Oct. 21.

Here is the question… how much money does Camping still have in his bank accounts?  If he really believed his own crap, he’d have spent every last dime saving as many souls as he could at the 11th hour and 59th minute.
My guess?  He’s still got millions in his saving account and long-term investments.

Camping’s hands shook slightly as he pinned his microphone to his lapel, and as he clutched a worn Bible he spoke in a quivery monotone about some listeners’ earthly concerns after giving away possessions in expectation of the Rapture.

Family Radio would never tell anyone what they should do with their belongings, and those who had fewer would cope, Camping said.

“We’re not in the business of financial advice,” he said. “We’re in the business of telling people there’s someone who you can maybe talk to, maybe pray to, and that’s God.

But he also said that he wouldn’t give away all his possessions ahead of Oct 21.

“I still have to live in a house, I still have to drive a car,” he said. “What would be the value of that? If it is Judgment Day why would I give it away?”

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Camping, who made a special [snip], apologized for not having the dates “worked out as accurately as I could have.” Through chatting with a friend over what he acknowledged was a very difficult weekend, the light dawned on him that instead of the biblical Rapture in which the faithful would be swept up to the heavens, May 21 had instead been a “spiritual” Judgment Day, which places the entire world under Christ’s judgment, he said.

The globe will be completely destroyed in five months, he said, when the apocalypse comes. But because God’s judgment and salvation were completed on Saturday, there’s no point in continuing to warn people about it, so his network will now just play Christian music and programs until the final end on Oct. 21.

In other words, he’s taken in about all the money he’s going to be able to sucker people out of and needs people to give him about five months of space and hopefully they’ll have forgotten about all this by then.

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Oh bravo, you schmuck.  Blowing your mom up isn’t kosher.

Gee, I’m really sorry your mom blew up, Ricky, guess she won’t be able to eat any spicy foods for awhile.Lane Myer in Better Off Dead, right after Lane’s failed suicide-by-fire attempt, when Ricky’s mom drank a mason jar full of gas he was holding and lit a cigarette

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There’s only two places where I personally could sanction hitting a woman – self defense is one instance and the second is if she was beating children (yes, that second isn’t legally defensible but it’s how I feel – there is no excuse to beat children beyond corporal punishment in parental discipline if it is necessary).  And this lady should not have been beaten.  But she did kind of bring herself into the line of fire by ridiculing Mr. Micro’s tool size publicly.  I mean, what did she expect?

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Some bright spark has determined that when beer prices go up beer drinkers reach for cheaper beer.

That is a stunning leap of logic that I had not guessed in my 20 years of drinking beer prior to quitting.

But lets be fair – the dynamic in a situation where the product is consumed by a fair share of addicts will be skewed.  At some point one will either try to buck off that monkey or come up with clever ways to feed it.  Cheap bananas, bananas that are spotted with age, bananas that ooze, and bananas that smell like gym socks.   Maybe a fellow will pick up banana peels by the side of the road in order to get the deposit back and purchase more bananas.

Hell, I’ve drunk beer drippings from the tap that were caught in a mop-bucket with granules of Spic-n-Span in the bottom – watching the sun come up.  After a while self-respect and personal pride count for very little as long as you keep that buzz going.

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Pork Products.

I got a new Brinkmann smoker a few days ago.  Father-in-law (hereinafter known as TPBS – short for Twenty Pounds of BS in a ten pound bag) and I set it up Thursday night.

As soon as it was all put together I plugged it in for a few hours to bake off the bad paint stuff and crud from the inside of the smoker.

This morning Cruel Wife inserted an 8lb pork butt in the smoker (9AM) since I was having a hard time getting out of bed (honestly).  I got up a bit after that and did yard work and tended the smoker all day.  I smoked the dog shiat out of that pork butt until 5:47PM.

Spaced Diode (a very good MESSENGER/FIPS buddy of mine) and his wife and son came over this afternoon and joined the family and my in-laws for dinner.

Smoked pork, macaroni salad, baked potatoes, olives, marinated shrooms, garlic bread – we ate until we nearly barfed and then ate some more.

A few burps were heard (followed by the fluttering confetti of partially eaten napkins as they were propelled from people’s mouths) and chairs scraped across the patio as everyone sat back far enough to undo belts and pat tummies.

Then Spaced Diode’s wife says “EXCELLENT pork products, Lemur!”

I looked at her in horror.

Cruel Wife’s silverware clattered to her plate and she sucked in a breath between her teeth.

Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled and a low melody sounded from nowhere in particular.

“What did you say?  Did I hear you correctly?  Pork products?”

She looked at me with those innocent Yooper eyes and said “Yes, pork products.  It was excellent.”

I am convinced that children cried and kittens died at that moment.

Tears nearly welling up in my eyes I cast a glance around to make sure the children were out of earshot and said “Yooper Chick, pork products makes it sound like we just got done eating hog lips and assholes.  We ate pork butt, which is the shoulder of a pig.  Why do you not just stick a knife in my heart and twist until my soul screams into eternity?”

Enough to make a smokemaster want to weep.

You can’t call smoked pork butt pork products.  It’s a sin against nature.

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Movie festival weirdness.

Ok, so the plot goes like this:  Bad guy rapes good guy’s daughter.  Good guy’s daughter commits suicide.  Good guy captures bad guy and performs an involuntary sex change on him.  Good guy then transplants daughter’s face onto bad guy.  Then good guy has sex with bad guy making it impossible to tell who is really a good or bad guy.

Guests, among them a group of sweepstakes winners flown specially to Cannes by Stella Artois from the U.S. to enjoy a once in a lifetime movie premiere were horrified by the experience. That group of Americans left and did not come back to the theater following a partiularly violent rape scene in the middle of the film.

[snip]

The latest from the Spanish director is based on a French novel, “Tarantula,” and the hometown crowd for the most part (the ones who stayed in the theater) did give Almodovar a five minute standing ovation for the adaptation.

Critics have also fallen in love with the upsetting film and are placing it in contention for the highest Cannes honor, the Palme d’or.

This is what I hate about “high art”.  It doesn’t matter if a story has merit or not, it’s just got to move someone emotionally, where the “someone” is a bunch of sick f*cks who have become so desensitized by their masturbation with great handfuls of sand and caustic soda that what should be repulsive suddenly gets standing ovations.  If you showed these folks “Pink Flamingos” today they’d go nuts.  Polyester was at least funny in a repulsive sort of way, and Waters’ movie PF was awful, but this latest one (not a Waters movie) with Antonio Banderas sounds like a steaming pile of excrement.

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Give Squirrel a Whirl?  Hokay.

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Foggiest Memories.

A break from my usual posting stuff today.

I don’t even remember when this was, but I do know my daughter was little.  Very little.  I had a camera and this little itty-bitty thing was sitting on the couch.  And Cruel Wife was propping her up with her hand.   And she was wearing my hat.

And I named her “Nermela” after “Nermel, the World’s Cutest Kitten” from Garfield.

(background of awful old couch removed to protect your eyes)

And for whatever reason, I still see her this way today, all these many years later.  Probably will as long as I live, too.

Sort of like this…

She asked to sleep on the couch tonight – hey, it’s an exciting time with her grandparents here to visit, so we said “Cool”  – and she promptly passed out on the spot.  I keep looking over there and seeing her now but as she was then.  Weird.

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Update:

Obama, honey… is it supposed to be this soft?

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I have heard of Adult Babies before.  Paraphilic Infantilism.

Let’s pretend that this guy has written to Dr. Lemur for his advice on how to handle society’s bias against PI’s.

Dear Dr. Lemur,

I am an adult baby.  I am thirty and a half years old.  I am being told by adults that being given money by the government for my condition is wrong.

I wrote to the Washington Times the following letter:

“You wanna test how damn serious I am about leaving this world, screw with my check that pays for this apartment and food. Try it. See how serious I am. I don’t care,” the California man said. “I have no problem killing myself. Take away the last thing keeping me here, and see what happens. Next time you see me on the news, it will be me in a body bag.

I cannot believe that they would put my diaper and formula money in jeopardy.  Where would I and Nana Sandra go if our disability checks were to go away?

Can you offer suggestions to make them take me seriously?

Sincerely,

Stanley

PS:  I have also sent a picture of me and Nana Sandra while I was having an afternoon snack.


Dr. Lemur, do you have anything you would like to say to Stanley Thornton Jr’s letter?

Dear Stanley,

First, your condition is one of the oddest affectations going.  I am frankly surprised that you have been allowed to continue on in this vein for so long.  I am even more surprised at how piss-poor of a job your parents did in raising you, you incredible black hole of need, you.

Sadly, your bizarre fetish has only been strengthened by the National Geographic, where you have been given a sensationalized spotlight center-stage position.

Sadder still is that many of our troops have died and sacrificed for so much freedom, which includes your little self-involved world where you are allowed to be as useless as a human being can be and still breathe, and all that while you are paid to do it on the backs of people who work for  a living.  The odds are very high that you are loathed throughout any cross-section of the military or society in general that you choose to investigate.

I would like to suggest that you either (a) grow up in a hurry and get a job like everyone else as opposed to being a useless sack of shit, or (b) get yourself a nice on-line body bag, zip yourself in it, and duct tape a gallon-sized bag over your head.  Either way is a win for taxpayers who already take your personal character flaws and failings seriously, and who will dance in the streets as you leave behind your pathetic lifestyle and embrace your future (whichever road you feel you must travel after your pathetic ass is removed from society’s feeding trough) rather than a bottle and a soggy diaper.

In other words Stanley – stop being a dickhead and become a worthwhile part of society or leave it.  You choose.  Ultimatums should never be given if you aren’t completely willing to follow through with your threatened behavior.  Go ahead Stanley, get serious.  Step up or zip up.

Sincerely disgusted,

Dr. Lemur

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That my testes traveled to my shoulderblades in record time (mere microseconds), beat only by the puckering of my butt so tightly that a singularity was formed.  (Run guys, run with that joke… RUN)

Seriously… I can’t watch it.  I can watch autopsies, watch surgeries, compounded bones, gooshed limbs, ok.  But this, because of my neck sends me screaming out of the room like an 8 year old girl.

Next week I’ll show the video where he gets beat out by the man who can turn his head 181 degrees.

More later if I have the energy.  Hard day.  Check back and I’ll probably have something.

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Note:  Fair warning, I am/was in House mode – I’m trying to get the house ready for the out-laws (in-laws) and damaging myself to do it.  Cruel Wife deserves to be able to show her folks a back room that isn’t a pile of shiat and has all the frames around the windows, doors, and closets put up.  As you can guess, I get… intense, when I hurt badly.

Here we have a woman bitching that when her mother died she was more in touch with her cat more than her.   Had she written to this column It’s All About Me, Dr. Lemur, why my response below would have been quite different.

Q. Dealing With My Mother’s Death: My mother died in February after a long battle with cancer. She and I live in different countries but always tried to see each other a few times a year. I also have a sister who lives about two hours from my parents’ house. My mother knew for some time that the end was near. My sister and I asked time and time again to see her, but we were told by her and my father that she didn’t want to see us and that she wanted us to remember her as she was. While I was upset about this, I wasn’t going to argue or upset her. The day after she died, my father called me to tell me she had died. He mentioned several times that she died peacefully while looking at photos of their cat and that her last words were to the effect that my father should look after the cat. Now, I know my parents love this cat, but I am hurt and upset that she had nothing to say about either my sister or me or any of our children (her grandkids). Fast forward to her obituary, which did not mention any of her grandchildren by name but had several sentences about the cat. This was an obituary that my mother wrote herself about six months before she died. I am struggling now, as I feel angry, and then guilty that I am angry. I feel like actual human family members are more important than feline ones. I want to get past this and have positive memories of my mother, but I am hurt by being cut out of her final moments and her favoritism of a cat, which sounds ridiculous, I know!

A. Dr. Lemur: Cut the lady some slack you little ingrate.  The woman took care of you for eighteen years – fed, cleaned you, tended your boo-boos, listened to your inanest utterances, and sought reasons daily to NOT kill you as a teenager. You moved to a different country and I’d guess that you and your little snowflakes visited when it was convenient.   But by the time was growing near she felt she looked hideous and didn’t want to spoil your memory of her.  Yes, ultimately it is a vanity thing.  She doesn’t love you any less (although she might be tempted by your lack of empathy)  The woman was dying.  Her cats never cared in the least what she looked like – it is easy unconditional love and they were with her all the time, they were her children in the here and now.  What you won’t see until you choose to stop being so self-centered is that your mother was doing what she thought was the kindest thing possible by not letting you see her dying.   As for an obit, it’s hers to write.  If your family all loved her they would know that the obituary is for the acquaintances and describes her life – there’s nothing that says she has to account for each and every offspring.   If you all loved her, remember her for the reasons you loved her and celebrate her life and get off your self-importance merry-go-round.   Life was slowly being taken away from her – her friends, her hobbies, her loves, her health, her mobility, and lastly it took away her sense of self-worth and then her life.  Let her have her cats.  They weren’t taken from her and she was doing the best she could do at the time in that situation.  Go pop your angry balloon, have a beer, get laid, and if you’re still whiny, punch yourself in the face five or six times – hard.  If the problem still persists, you’re just a bitch and there’s really no help for that.

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Ok, see the x-ray through the side of a semi-truck which shows lots of illegal aliens?  There’s a certain amount of radiation that is required to peer through the truck sides… how many BED’s‡ did those people get?  Is it considered cruel and inhumane to subject these people (who were whisked away from their homes to work here illegally) to high exposures of x-rays?  Should we stop using this awful method of enforcing borders when we should be giving everyone amnesty and instant green cards?

‡  Banana Equivalent Dose.  The amount of radiation exposure you get from eating a banana.  For me, I always read BED and think back to PATEOTS units as proposed by Neal Stephenson, which illustrates some Highly Toxic Substance X that can do Scary Thing Y with a quantity that fits on a “Period At The End Of This Sentence”.

Note:  If you can’t recognize my humane/amnesty/green-card statements as sarcasm, you need to go someplace else.

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Rug F***ers is the perfect name of a carpet cleaning company, in my honest opinion.

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Oh, boo hoo.  If you hate it here so much that you spit on people who aren’t doing anything to you then you need to quit school and find a good university “back home”.

I especially love how she takes the blame away from herself:

Al-Doaifi told officers she was spitting on “white people” because of the way her people are treated and that a “higher authority” made her do it, an officer wrote.

Huh.  I wonder if her “higher authority” is going to pay her fines and court costs.

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The suspect, whose identity was not disclosed, has a history of mental illness.

Seriously, you think so?  Sheesh, you eat one person’s liver and you’re marked for life.  I mean, talk about being labeled.  It’s not likely that once he killed and dismembered his friend would need that liver anymore.

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Michigan man wins $2M and is still on food stamps.

A man who won $2 million [has admitted] that he still uses food stamps.

Leroy Fick [snip] admitted he still swipes the electronic card at stores, nearly a year after winning a jackpot [snip] that more than half the prize went to taxes.

Fick says the Department of Human Services told him he could continue to use the card, which is paid with tax dollars. He told WNEM: “If you’re going to … try to make me feel bad, you aren’t going to do it.”

This is how you recognize a broken entitlement system.  One that allow people to feel entitled long after there is any need for them to take government money.   He should be fined for every penny retroactively that he used on food stamps since the day he collected his prize plus another 20% just for being an a$$hole.

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Update #2:  Not a fan of french politicians but this guy seems to have been determined guilty until proven innocent.

Dominique Strauss-Kahn feared that one of his political opponents would pay a woman more than $1million to say he raped her, it emerged today.  – Main Online

Yeah, ok.  I’ll tell you what improves your chances even more – don’t be known as a womanizer – or even better yet… don’t be one!  But if you have a history of being a horny perv it doesn’t help your case.  See below for my stance on unnamed accusers being able to make a claim that is nearly undefensible, especially if the sex was actually consensual beforehand.  It’s a lesson to all of us guys – be careful and try not to be a horndog.

But it does stretch my imagination that someone could be that prominent of a figure and be stupid enough to sexually assault a woman as she claims.  I don’t think he’s a stupid man.

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Update:  I am intellectually erect.  The fourth fundamental type of passive electronic isn’t far off in the future.  Memristors, and the HP guys think they’ve got them licked.

Memristor cells can also be built using exceedingly small fabrication processes. Using a grid of nanowires whose crossing points form the memristors, Williams told The New York Times that HP Labs has working devices with three-nanometer memristors that switch on and off in about a nanosecond and could store 20GB in a square centimeter.

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Alert reader mrmacs left a link in a comment today.

“Friday on CNBC, Bill Clinton gave an interview that is causing some unrest on popular news sites today. When asked if there is a role for government in terms of ensuring that the information out there is accurate, he replied, ‘Well, I think it would be a legitimate thing to do. … If the government were involved, I think you’d have to do two things … I think number one, you’d have to be totally transparent about where the money came from. And number two, you would have to make it independent. … let’s say the US did it; it would have to be an independent federal agency that no president could countermand or anything else because people wouldn’t think you were just censoring the news and giving a different falsehood out. That is, it would be like, I don’t know, National Public Radio or BBC or something like that, except it would have to be really independent and they would not express opinions, and their mandate would be narrowly confined to identifying relevant factual errors. And also, they would also have to have citations so that they could be checked in case they made a mistake.’ His statements have elicited responses ranging from a Ministry of Truth a la 1984 to discussion of genuine concern about internet rumors and falsehoods.”  

– slashdot – http://tech.slashdot.org/story/11/05/16/182220/Bill-Clinton-Suggests-Internet-Fact-Agency

The most dangerous man in the world, except one, because at least Clinton was smart and savvy.  I loathe him but I gotta give him credit, he was able to lead worth a damn unlike the current Pied Piper we have in the White House.

Go back and look at this part again:

…because people wouldn’t think you were just censoring the news and giving a different falsehood out. That is, it would be like, I don’t know, National Public Radio or BBC or something like that

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Yes, I know the lions share of reported rapes are just that.  But not all, and the mere accusation is enough to f*ck up some poor bastard’s life.  You can’t take the innocent until proven guilty fella and trash his life regardless of the outcome of the trial.  Whether he’s innocent or guilty he’s hosed.  The anonymous accuser thing is a bad idea folks.

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Ok, you need some happy stories.

Non-profit Panera Called a Success.  A huge round of applause to FARK for having that link where I could see it.  In spite of all the good results I still have faith in human nature.  (Boy that sure pisses off Cruel Wife when I say that all caustic-ally and cynically like I do.)

Here’s a guy with the balls of a tiger.  Building your own levy around your own house rather than give in.

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