Archive for February, 2013

Note: I will polish this article later but for now, dinner calls.

It is like meteorologists finally decided they needed to be taken more seriously all the time.  They want to matter, to be valid, to be noticed.

They say that it is for our good:

During the upcoming 2012-13 winter season The Weather Channel will name noteworthy winter storms. Our goal is to better communicate the threat and the timing of the significant impacts that accompany these events. The fact is, a storm with a name is easier to follow, which will mean fewer surprises and more preparation.

Funny, I never found a storm so hard to follow that I needed a name put to it.  This sounds like justifying something that has no real justification at hand.

So a bunch of meteorologists got together and collectively decided that they would name every freaking storm, not just the big tropical ones.  Most tornadoes don’t even really get names, not like Hurricane Carol, Hurricane Katrina, or Hurricane Pasquale.  Tornadoes seem to mainly be named after the town that they most completely wiped off a map.

So, much like a teen announcing suddenly that she no longer wants to be called Marcia, now she is Annette, or Hubert suddenly wants to be called Throck Morton III, or any number of teens “quietly” come out with their disinterested angst and claim to be vegetarians and dress in black and brood a lot, now meteorologists need to name their snowstorms.

I find this to be sad.  As sad as the guy that breaks into a lingerie store and gets caught on tape molesting himself with “devices”.

I am sure this is going to put a little lead in the pencils of meteorologists everywhere, this newfound power to compete for naming rights of the latest atmospheric disturbance, but there’s going to be more excitement in the general population of a prison over the guy mentioned above than there is about storm naming.

So cut it out TWC and any other outfits that think this is a cool trend, because it is… sad.


In order to bolster your strength for the stuff below, let me give you a kitten booster.  Demonic kitten, but a kitten, nonetheless.


The bipedal pic is not a photoshop, it has funky parts because the damn creature was doing her quantum cat act again.



I listen to NPR because I want to know what the commies are up to.  Here’s the link to last Friday’s transcript of The Week in Politics, and here is the snippet that just steams my clams.

I think it’s an utterly artificial crisis. It’s really the ghost of the Tea Party haunting Washington because the whole sequester comes out of an effort to end the other utterly unnecessary crisis back in 2011 over the debt ceiling. And so they came up with a package they thought would be so bad that no one would buy it and they would come to a reasonable deal.

President Obama has come up with, I think, a very reasonable deal. Indeed, I think my friend David should be embracing the president because he’s doing what David has spent two years telling us we should do: a balance of tax – money raised through tax reform and some reasonable cuts, including by the way, cuts in Medicare spending.

I think the Republicans have an interest in this crisis going on as long as possible. They kind of like to run out the clock because the more time we spend on phony budget crises, the less time we spend on, oh, getting people back to work, investing in the future, easing inequality, promoting mobility.

So they just want to put more and more time between us and the last election, which Obama won. And right now, it’s looking like the public will blame the Republicans more than Obama, but Obama is stuck in a situation where he is losing time to do some of the things he’d like to do.

– E.J. Dionne of The Washington Post

Like in the kid’s Highlights magazine some of us grew up with way back when… how many things could you spot wrong in that picture?

David Brooks of the NYT:

BROOKS: You know, I do think that they gave a lot on tax increases and got zippo in response. And so I do think the next time around, we should do something that’s much more on the spending side. The president has done a little spending, what they call chain CPI in Social Security, to me not enough, and they’re still relying too much on tax increases by closing loopholes, which would undermine tax reform in the long run.

So I do think the Republicans have a point on that. But they’re just in a pretty weak position right now.


DIONNE: I don’t think they have a point at all. I mean, that was 642 billion in revenues. We’ve already done well over 2 trillion in cuts. Obama agreed to a lot of cuts in 2011, and he’s not asking nearly as much in tax increases as either Simpson-Bowles did or he once did. He’d settle for 400 or $500 billion in additional taxes.

You’d still have an enormous ratio in favor of cuts over tax increases if you agreed to Obama’s deal. And so, I think there’s something very disingenuous to say, well, we’ll pass this one – taxes one time only. Boehner himself said he’d be for more tax increases than he’s voted for.

So, you see, I actually risk my life in listening to NPR because I’m about a gnat’s ass away from having a stroke at any given moment.

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True Lust.

You have by now become accustomed to my love of knives.  Of leather coats.  Of leather courier bags.  Of sunglasses.

Strangely, those don’t all have to come together to fit some kind of nerdy fantasy.  They are just things I love.

The People’s M-4 Sun – silver with cobalt glass.  They are enough like my reading glasses that I want them but in no way can afford them.  Besides, they cannot meet my request of an OD > 2.3 (transmits something like 0.5%).  I do not like bright light.    aT $425 it is outside of my pay scale.

M-4 Sun Cobalt Silver

But, for the kind of driving I like to do, these will work just fine:

More later…


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Safe. Ish.

Drones should make us feel safe.

  • Gun laws to curb citizen’s semi-automatic “assault weapons”
  • Ammunition shortages
  • Path to citizenship
  • Fully-automatic weapons for DHS for “personal defense”
  • Purchase of billions of rounds of ammo for DHS
  • Promise safety and goodies to those who live in cities and are swayed by things, not ideals
  • Drones over the US.
  • Presidential power for president to authorize strikes against US citizens.
  • I expect to see the Universal ID card and control on gun powder soon.

Sure sounds to me like a government hell-bent on making sure they can beat a society back down if there is unrest.

I’m trying to figure out at which point I am supposed to feel safer.


As you know, women who are afraid of rape should not be trusted with guns.  Cruel Wife would like some words with this CO Rep. Salazar.

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It dawned on me that what I really wanted was a lemur, not a cat.   Lemurs are legal, just not nearly as maintenance-free as cats.  What to do, what to do?

So… with the proper bleaching compounds for most of her fur and select rings around her tail, and a few hair dyes for really accentuating certain parts – viola!  Stage 1 is complete.  Next will come Stage 2, with extra bleaching when the sores on her body from the bleaching solution heal and then Stage 3 where finally frosting will make it all blend in.

Here is Melody after her final rinse.  A bit wet still but looking good all the same – just like a little lemur.  Yes, a faux-lemur but I am ok with it.   I have a few hundred really good scratches from trying to keep her held still while we bleached her and all but it’s worth it, as you can see.



If I had to pick the ways that I thought I could nail down a comprehensive “Total Lifetime FAIL Award” strategy, I don’t think I could have done it quite so well.  It’s old news but I haven’t addressed it yet.

Cross-Dressing, Show-Tunes-Loving Connecticut Priest Busted

for Selling Meth and Laundering Money Through His Sex Shop

Okay.  Pretty impressive.  Shows a certain spontaneity.

Following news that one of their former priests was arrested earlier this month for his alleged involvement in a cross-county meth ring, the Roman Catholic Diocese of Bridgeport, Connecticut, released a statement expressing “shock and concern” for the “gifted, accomplished and compassionate” Monsignor.

His sex shop still seems to be listed.  His diocese stuck by him to the end… my wife would not stick by me through this stuff.

The Diocese stuck by Wallin even after he became the owner of a North Haven sex and smoke shop called Land of Oz & Dorothy’s Place shortly after leaving the priesthood.

For all I know this is what you have to do to leave the priesthood… behave so thoroughly badly that they just finally let you go.  A lot of them put up with ped-priests for far longer than they ever should have (which I deem to be about 15 seconds).

At least Pope Benedict was allowed to say how he felt and then step down.  Hat is off to him for the guts that it took.


Now we have tutoring programs where it is ok to say “black kids only” because while we are here for the children, we’re more here for the failing black children than the failing white ones.  Because failing black children need help more than failing white children.

A school principal said no white children were allowed at an after-school tutoring program, and now some parents call it discrimination.

The principal at Mission Viejo Elementary in Aurora sent a letter telling parents the program is only for students of color. Parents CBS4 talked with said they were shocked to see, in this day and age, what they consider to be segregation.

Of course once black principal Andre Pearson got wind that his crappy behavior wasn’t universally loved he quickly sought to contain the damage.

Before Cox could complain to the school, Pearson contacted her directly. His voicemail only seemed to reinforce the segregated tutoring idea.

“This is Andre Pearson. It’s focused for and designed for children of color, but certainly, if we have space for other kids who have needs, we can definitely meet those needs,” Pearson told Cox in the voicemail.

Pearson declined to comment on camera, but a district spokesperson claims it was all just a big misunderstanding.

“I think what the answer is, is that he made a mistake,” Tustin Amole with the Cherry Creek School District told CBS4.

The new tutoring program was started by parents of minority students to help bridge the achievement gap.

An image of the ad (credit: CBS)

The district is now clarifying that the program wasn’t meant to segregate anyone.

“But we have had lots of students sign up for the tutoring. Many of them are white and we will be accepting all of them,” Amole said.

“I just want everybody to be treated equally,” Cox said.

The new tutoring program began Wednesday. CBS4 was told a letter would be going out to parents to clarify the error that was made.

Sorry, but that wasn’t an error.  They fully intended for a coloreds only group.  It was not a mistake or a misunderstanding.  It was yet another case in a long line of folks who think it ain’t racism if it forms their own groups to exclusions of others.

Show me one minority/disadvantaged group that wouldn’t gladly turn the tables if the situation were reversed.  Go on, show me.


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Where did we leave off in the last installment?

We had just left the warm comforting bosom of our hotel in Madison, Wisconsin, I believe.

It was a morning full of promise.  The sun was out and it was a lapis sky (which only exists in the mind’s eye and on Kodak prints), the birds were chirping gaily (or so it was reported to me by Cruel Wife since I couldn’t and cannot hear a bird unaided if my life were to depend upon it), and in the distance, masked by the scent of trepidation from our near-prescient kitty, was the future-stench of bowels as-yet unloosed.

Stretching out before us was a crossroads of sorts.  Had we smelt our kitty more closely we might have turned south and kept going, stopping only when we hit the Gulf of Mexico.  Or, we might have turned north and fled to Canada, home of watery Canadian Bacon Beer, which should be called “ham beer”.  Had we fled to Canada the odds are quite high that we’d have turned around and come back for lack of interesting things to do there, but we might have gone the scenic route before fleeing towards the southern border.

But we did not smell our kitty more closely, and this changed our lives.

New Rule #8:  Always, always, always smell your kitty before embarking on a journey.

Because we did not smell our kitty and thus missed the prescient miasma about his furry personage, we chose the eastern, i.e. towards Michigan, road.

I would love to tell you the following:  That the Goose Lake State Wildlife area was beautiful, that Rock Lake was pristine and unsullied, that parts of Waukesha were quaint and that I had found a great hot dog joint there.  But I can’t tell you any of that because I’ve never been to those places.  I told a little white fib for theatrics earlier, because we did turn south at the crossroads in Madison but we only went as far as we needed to go in order to follow I-90 into Chicago.

What is sad about the route that we took is that I remember absolutely nothing about it beyond the intense fear we experienced.

They say that it is not uncommon to lose the memory of events leading up to an accident or a traumatic event.  It is here that things get a bit hazy beyond a 100 foot radius (the distance in which you just barely have time to say “OhJesusMaryMotherofGodIdon’twanttodielikethisandpleasekeepfromscreamingandshutthecatup” if you say it really really fast like I did, fifty or sixty times)

New Rule #9:  Drug the cat before entering Chicago unless it is in a crate in the back of the truck.

New Rule #10:  Drug the wife before entering Chicago unless she is in a crate in the back of the truck. Drugging the wife and putting her in a crate in the back of the truck is not an option that should be left unexplored.

New Rule #11:  Double up on Drixoral™ before entering Chicago so the Shadow People that you hallucinate can read maps and navigate for you.

We came southward on I-90/94 with the intent of driving through Chicago in a straight-shot.  I didn’t see a single piece of Chicago since we were coming through it at A Very Bad Time.  By “A Very Bad Time” I mean during a busy period combined with lots of road work.  It was a reasonably hot day and we were doing a lot of necessary but tedious stop-and-go but then the highway opened up for us.  The cat was restless, we were restless, and also restless were many many other cranky drivers.  It wasn’t very long before I found myself behind a semi – and we were all driving very fast at this point.

The cat started to get fluffy.  I glanced down just long enough to see his eyes and pupils were the size of dinner plates at the Hungry Heifer.  Cruel Wife was making a strange noise that fell between strangling and keening.

I embraced (frantically clutched at) my inner child, got in tune with my feminine side, and got way more in tune with my surroundings.  I was at maximal situational awareness because we were now in “heightened circumstances” that were quite beyond our control, viz, we were now boxed in by four enormous trucks and traveling well beyond the speed limit while going around a fairly noteworthy curve.  Silver d’Cat was trying to be helpful, pointing out things that I could do as safety measures but all that was really getting through to me was something that sounded like “Mrrreooowww, hisss, mreeeow, fttttt, hisss, mrrrreowwwrr” but I can’t really be sure.  He repeated himself several times and got louder each time but I couldn’t really hear him over Cruel Wife speaking to me in tongues.  It seemed that she was speaking not only in several voices at once but also in at least two additional languages (most alarmingly, they seemed to be dead languages).  It was exceedingly difficult to please her in this instance (more so than usual) because all of her hand instructions were contradictory – slow down, speed up, turn on your blinker, don’t move, stop, use your vertical thrusters (huh?), build a campfire, lay a new course of tiles, and (my favorite) invent something *quick*.

Ever smelled the combination of cat fear, sour gym sock sweat, diesel exhaust, and particulates from truly leviathan† truck tires that are near immolation?  It is nauseating.  It’s worse than the combined scent of wildflowers and shame. If you were to roll all those scents and materials into little balls it would make a hell of an herbicide.

A quick note here.  I am referring to “Leviathan” in the sense used by Hobbes, not a sea creature but the concept of something so much bigger than one’s self, a construct of great enormity.  Otherwise in the context of a truck-as-sea-monster it just sounds silly unless it is a truck full of fish-sticks or octupi, not that those two things aren’t rather silly in their own right.

Smells are just not something you need to add to your sensory overload at a time like this.

New Rule #12:  Utilize something like Mentholatum™ as a prophylactic when entering into a situation that is going to involve Odors of Amply Sufficient Vileness.

Let us step outside of events briefly, shall we, Constant Reader?

If we were to freeze the moment, we could walk up and survey the scene in a relaxed and objective fashion, so we’ll do just that.   We might learn something, and we might learn nothing – life is sometimes like that but at least we will be able to say that we made the attempt.  What would we see?  Would it touch us on some deeper level?  Would we be amused?  Disgusted?  Fearful?  Let us see…

We would see a cramped truck cab with two fearful young adults, one male (sweaty, driving), one female (clawed, shrieking), one feline (felis domesticus, yowling), and no fewer than twelve Shadow People that only existed in the mind of the young man behind the wheel of the vehicle because of his cold medicine.  We could stand with our backs to the doors of the truck and reach out and touch the dusty trailers of the semi-trucks to either side.  Four or five healthy strides forwards or backwards would bring us to the trailer doors or grille of the trucks fore and aft.  Sad, endearing, and perfectly understandable would be the small fluffy cat with large panicky eyes as he is frozen in the act of burying his head under the young woman’s arm.  A violent localized squall may be seen through the bug-spattered windshield as a mass of papers and junk food wrappers swirling around the cab and out the half-open windows.  Neither the young man or woman looks happy and the small fluffy cat is clearly beyond help at this moment in time, having taken leave of his senses.  The young man is chewing on his lip hard enough to bleed and he has a large set of veins throbbing at his temples and forehead.

And suddenly it was over.  The roaring of the trucks receded in this distance.  The sound of a mortally terrified Silver d’Cat died off slowly.  The sounds of Cruel Wife choking on self-contradictory instructions ceased.  All that remained was the panting of three exhausted souls.

Note: If you were thinking that the loosed-bowel remark at the beginning of this story was a literal placeholder for events to come I am pleased to disappoint you – no bowels were voided on that day except in a completely voluntary fashion.

What did we learn?

New Rule #13:  Never drive a small truck through Chicago with a cat of any breed.

And then the details of the journey got fuzzy again.   We were all dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder in varying degrees and would be for some months to come (cat psychologists are rare and almost prohibitively expensive, by the way).   The next thing I personally recall was passing Kalamazoo.  It was then that I either started humming Hoyt Axton’s Cat from Kalamazoo or I started running it through my head over and over.

It was Della and the Dealer and a dog named Jake
And a cat named Kalamazoo
Left the city in a pick-up truck
Gonna make some dreams come true

Of course then our story deviates wildly from Axton’s song because we were heading east, neither Cruel Wife nor I have ever had or ever will have a dog named Jake, Silver d’Cat wasn’t from Kalamazoo, our cat didn’t stay cool, and I’m not evil, just a sociopath.  But the tune was catchy and stuck with me.

Two hours later I got out of the truck, kissed the ground with emotion, even to the point of slipping it the tongue (and got a phone number from it – don’t tell Cruel Wife).   We threw the cat in the apartment, and we took off in search of some cheap comfort food.

Thus concludes the three-part story Driving to Michigan with a Drugged Cat in the Truck.

The fate of the Dramatis Personae: Silver d’Cat lived another twelve years, Cruel Wife has not killed me in my sleep yet in spite of the fact that I snore like an asthmatic donkey (her words), and we continue to live in Michigan.

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Dear Dr. Lemur,

I am a father of a 14 year old who is totally obsessed with Facebook. She is on it constantly.

My only recourse was to write up a contract and pay her $200 for her username and password. The agreement is that she will stay off of Facebook for five months. I have attached the contract for you to see.


Did I do the right thing?

Father Paul in Boston


Father Paul,

You absolutely did the right thing if you want to demonstrate to your daughter that you are just as impotent and jelly-spined as you seem.

In fact, you should probably just give her a credit card with the instructions that if she goes over $2000 in a month you two will have to go get a root beer float (sometime) and talk about ways to reduce her spending, but only when she is ready.

You might also ask her what car she wants when she turns 16 so you can start saving up for the down-payment and get the paperwork on a second mortgage rolling so you can float the insurance.

Let her also know that curfews are also just suggestions and that you trust her to “do the right thing” in all circumstances and you won’t question her judgement because obviously kids really are pretty wise when you get down to it. They are just smaller versions of adults, after all.

She plans on spending the money on “stuff” so you can rest easy and know that with your strong parenting skills she won’t fill the void in her already empty life with baser pursuits like drugs and alcohol.

Keep your spirits up, Father Paul. Someday they will have spine and testicle transplants and you will be able to feel like a useful part of society again. And if things go wrong, society will still be there to pick up and support your precious snowflake.

You could try spending time with your daughter if all else fails.

– Dr. Lemur


Wow, gang, it sure is inspirational when Dr. Lemur cures what ails someone, isn’t it? From here on out, Father Paul’s life will be smooooth sailing.

Ok, forgive me if any of you are Facebook users (Cruel Wife, Aggie). But you must realize that I see a huge difference between mom-wives who work their asses off to the point where socializing with adults in real-life is darned difficult (and other adults who do the same) and kids who haven’t yet learned how to develop relationships in meatspace. Kids gotta learn how to connect with physical people first, and then later learn how to make connections however you can in this busy world. That’s what childhood is for, for heaven’s sake.

(see original news article here)

Speaking of meatspace…

Haven’t had the inclination to get to it but I actually got some sleep last night and suddenly found myself with the capacity/energy to mock the Brits (if one of my favorite TV hosts, Jeremy Clarkson, can mock us Americans then I say I can mock them, too). It’s old news but the media keeps making sausage of the story so I’ll have fun with it:admission

Seriously, meat is meat. So the animal was “cute”, or Not Commonly Accepted As Food, or some such thing… if you ate it and enjoyed it, and there were no little insects/bugs or human parts in it, and it was cooked to your satisfaction… Hell, if you have ever eaten sushi, not a word about horse, m’kay?

Shame on BK’s supplier for misrepresenting horse as cow, but move on. It’s not just BK, it’s also Findus UK who got hit by it with their Neighing Lasagna. Tell you what – with the ultra-high cost of beef right now, send all that stuff to me at half price and I’ll take it off your hands.


A week ago my sister helped a neighbor get a goat to an auction and came home with a ewe and a lamb. Her husband was irked but she wrote to me and said “We’re naming them Baaaahbra and Lamb Chop. Know any good recipes for lamb?”

I assured her that fast on the BBQ as ribs/chops was an awesome way to go.

She later wrote to me and said “HOW CAN YOU *EAT* ‘CUTE’?”

I replied simply, “Easy. Rare to medium-rare.”


veeshir… I am not responding to the taunts at your blog because we are boycotting each other, after all.

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… a girl.  In one of the least proudest moments our president is shooting like a girl.

No, that’s an insult to girls.  Sorry girls.

He shoots like a beginner.

The President had stern warnings for anyone who would p-shop the image of him during one of his all-the-time gun-luvin’ outings.

“This official White House photograph is being made available only for publication by news organizations and/or for personal use printing by the subject(s) of the photograph. The photograph may not be manipulated in any way and may not be used in commercial or political materials, advertisements, emails, products, promotions that in any way suggests approval or endorsement of the President, the First Family, or the White House.”

I was shocked, SHOCKED when I saw the sacrilege against our Savior-in-Chief Obama over at Ace of Spades.  It was a travesty, I tell you.  See the travesty below?  He’s gonna try to shoot BUGS.  Bugs Bunny is an American icon… you can’t shoot Bugs.

BCJc0WZCUAAFFH4.jpg large

The guy can’t even do a PR gun shoot properly.  He didn’t bother to learn where to place the butt of the gun, I highly doubt he got a clay target while at the horizontal, and his center of gravity is all wrong.  I’ve seen many many long-time shooters and this guy ain’t one of them.  So I’m kind of insulted when he claims to be a gun-lover.  No, really insulted.

See the original below.



An interesting side note.  G00gle is handling Breitbart as if it were a malicious website.  Yeah, Breitbart is about as suspicious as they come.

Clever.  What next?  The NRA website?  Iowahawk?  Hookers and Booze?

Think what an honor it would be for G00gle to care enough to try to shut you down.


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