Dopple-G made it. Barely. His group was cut 70%.

Turns out they aren't going without QA on my product, they're going without QA on his. The new QA person for my product is somebody from his group who will be retrained for my group. Actually she worked on mine years ago before there was another product so it is literal retraining for her. She has many years more seniority than I do so I can't really fault the decision.

Many many thanks to everybody who has chimed in with support. I owe a couple of you responses on things I couldn't answer off the top of my head and today quickly got too crazy to look for the correct info.

I am very gratefully consuming the beers that were sent to me via PayPal. Muchos gracias to Susie and Harvey. By the way Harvey - Susie one upped you. She bought me two beers. ;-)

To the several who have expressed regret at not being able to help financially - please do not worry about that. Between our finances and the severance pittance from the Collective we are okay for now. I very much appreciate the sentiment though.

Got some very big news just a short while ago. The Borg corporate realignment plan has been completed. Apparently assimilation isn't inevitable after all.

I've lost my job, y'all. Effective about two hours ago.

UPDATE:SnoozeBob day is over, y'all. Thanks for all who played along. I'll hand out points tomorrow for those deserving.

Y'all remember Snoozebob, right?

Snoozebob comes around when I am especially lazy am so burdened by other committments that I can't attend to my normal bloggish duties and he throws the doors open for y'all to abuse the snooze guest post. It's easy as pie. Just go here and log in with username and password "snoozebob".

The door will be open until tomorrow morning. You can post just about whatever you want as long as it isn't spammy or overtly francophilish. There are a couple of things to remember though:

1. Don't do something so stupid that I or one of my proctors will have to ban your ass.


2. Put your name in there so we know who wrote what. In the title is the best place, as a header or in closing work too.


3. If you have a blog don't forget to whore it out here include a link.


4. For the category, please choose "SnoozeBob".

Enjoy!

(This post will stay at the top as long as open posting is enabled.)

POINTS: When I close guest posting I'll hand out some points based on which posts I thought were the funniest/most meaningful/bestest. It might be in categories or an overall list - not sure at the moment.

Cats have been losing out bigtime to little dogs as the ultimate shopper's accessory. Obviously cats just aren't fashionable enough to be seen browsing designer racks with and I blame two things for this:

1. This carefully constructed argument on why puppies are better than alcoholic kitties

2. Those crazy mixed up felines at Cat Town whose wardrobe has been provided by Catprin.

No wonder there are so many owners out there with cats who hate them.

But sometimes being unstylish is really a blessing in disguise. Cats don't have to suffer the ignominy of being paraded around by the likes of Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. Can you see the dead looks in those little dogs' eyes - a part of them has lost the will to live. In this picture, you can see one of them trying their best to escape from the clutches of Nicole Richie.

A media storm was caused recently when Paris Hilton misplaced Tinkerbelle who she said was like a daughter to her. That would make a Great Dane her father, which is no surprise because I've heard that the making of Tinkerbelle is an Easter Egg on the "One Night in Paris" DVD.

Animal activists need to get cracking and bust out all of these little dogs who have been condemned to a life of inane conversation and embarrassing press appearances.

Spirit Fingers

Ah, finally, an unguarded place where a fellow can stretch out and relax.

Kang A Roo

Wow, did you ever get someone tryin' to sell ya somethin' whose presence gave ya one of the most enjoyable days you could imagine? I jes' had that happen. I would love to tell ya'll all about it, but why would I be wastin' such a good story on Jim's blog. 'Sides, there ia a graphic I wanted to display as well, and it seems that spongesnoozebob's privileges do not include uploading pics to Jim's server*. You'll have to go to this place.

*Ain't that strange, 'cause it is also my server, or, truth be known, Pixy's server.

I am blowing steam out of every ear I have, being nine of them, as I lost No. 10 in that scrap with Mike Tyson before my tentacles were fully developed and I had appropriated ray gun technology from Emperor Ming. Why am I upset, if such word is sufficient to describe the ire I feel from having a long diatribe about having had some man named Phil F. Jackson comment upon my blog: Beyond the Black Hole, "Great blog!", disappear without publication after I had worked so diligently to compose such? In this post's previous incarnation, I had painstakenly mentioned that I thought such was a highly suspicious activity and likely done with the intent to cause such Phil F. Jackson's name fall to the bottom of my zap list. If so, said individual is definitely in error, as are any who believe that I will show them favoritism if they compliment me or otherwise show me favor. Except for Gir, of course. Gir is quickly becoming my loyal assistant. Please insure that you do not allow this secret to slip, like was done with regard to the biological agent, cheese and its lethal effect on my health, but also, unbeknownst to many, I do not keep a zap list. My solitary rule in deciding who to zap and who not to zap on any occasion is solely dependent upon who is visible in the cross hairs as I engage the power on whatever ray gun I am firing. Now, if this post disappears without being published as that last one did, I may revise my rule and just rampantly zap everyone in attendance. No ducking, and no cheese allowed.

I love this blog so much! I've always wanted to be a guest poster but never had the chance before. I knew about the last SnoozeBob opportunity but didn't even think of making my own post. Hindsight, you know?

Well, I don't have anything of my own that's worthy to post but I do have a short list of excellent posts by other noted bloggers for you to read.

Pray for me. Lovely Wife has PMS.

Simon says blog! That's one of the best newbie blogging guidelines you'll run across.

Simon also says that he's sick of the "Simon says" thing.

Rachel Ann discovers advertising deceptions.

Ryan is fed up and he's not going to take it any more! He's issued a call to arms. Sort of.

Bunsen is back? Be still my beating heart - you know he likes to tease.

See ya later!
Jim

Little-known fact: when I (SnoozeTiffany) was a kid, I thought glasses were cool and prayed every night that I could wear them one day.

Ta da! Fifteen years later, I sit here with two left contact lenses in my eyes because I ripped my right one...twice. And my two eyes are different precriptions. Nice!

I'm not blind to the extent that I qualify for a handicap placard to hang from my rear-view mirror, but my vision is blurry enough that I can't read a digital clock with 1 1/2" red numbers from two or three feet away. I have to squint to read the clock on my cell phone when I take my lenses out.

My glasses are so damned thick that I pay the extra bucks to have them made from extra-light material, and still have that whole bug-face thing going on when I wear them: you know, the part of my face behind my glasses appears much much smaller than the rest of my face because of all that lens goodness. Cartoon, anyone?

The one good thing I can say about having shitty vision is that I can make excuses to beg off things:

"Oh, honey, I can't see to drive at night--can you take me?" (Useful when out of gas and too ashamed to admit it.)

"Fuck! I missed my exit! Why didn't you tell me when to turn--you know I can't see the signs!" (Useful for when you don't know where the hell you're going but like to pretend otherwise.)

"Damnit! I tore a lens, I can't go to work!!!! *snicker*" (Useful when feeling "SnoozeBob"ish.)

And my favorite: I can use the "Honey, I have a headache," excuse and have it work quite well when I'm wearing my glasses--oh, how they strain me. The pain! The fuzziness! *snicker*

Natural selection may eventualy do away with us squinters, but while I'm still here, can you go get me a soda from that store on the corner?...I think it's a store, I can't really tell. I can't see well enough to read the can. (And...I, sort of haven't been paid yet.)

A Pome

As we travel through our lives,
We all encounter certain woes;
For happiness is fleeting,
And contentment comes and goes,
And good fortune never lingers -
The tide ebbs after it flows.
But I never dreamed I'd find the dog
That ate my mother's toes.

The day was brisk, the sky was grey,
The trees were filled with crows;
I'd just filled up my fishpond
With the neighbour's garden hose.
I fumbled for a handkerchief
With which to blow my nose -
And then looked up, and saw the dog
That ate my mother's toes.

I looked at him; he looked at me;
He was chewing on a rose.
His eyes were hard, his mouth was set -
Determined, I suppose.
I'd have gone and fetched my shotgun -
But I don't got me one of those.
So I stood my ground and faced the fiend
That ate my mother's toes.

We glared into each other's eyes
The bitterest of foes:
The fellow who just lives his life,
The dog that feeds on does.
And then he got run over -
One reaps just what one sows -
And lay there dying, the vile beast
That ate my mother's toes.

My poetry may sometimes rhyme,
But can't compete with Poe's.
The meter changes over time;
The rhyming comes and goes.
My one last act I will remark,
For none here would oppose:
I kicked him in the ribs and he
Coughed up my mother's toes.

Kinda like the Vagina Monologues and just as ghey.

Fade in:
Jim standing up on stage Green Violets Kareoke Bar.

"So I just flew in from Georgia and boy are my arms tired"

"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. "

Jim, reaches for his JD on the rocks that is sitting on the stool next to him and slams it back.

"Ok folks for my next song I'm going to be doing 'Afternoon Delight
' by Starland Vocal Band "

Heckler: "For the love of God No"

Jim: Shut up. Are you on stage? No!

"Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight
Gonna grab some afternoon delight
My motto's always been 'when it's right, it's right'
Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night?
When everything's a little clearer in the light of day
And we know the night is always gonna be there any way

Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite
Looking forward to a little afternoon delight
Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite
And the thought of lovin' you is getting so exciting
Sky rockets in flight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight

Started out this morning feeling so polite
I always though a fish could not be caught who wouldn't bite
But you've got some bait a waitin' and I think I might try nibbling
A little afternoon delight
Sky rockets in flight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight

Please be waiting for me, baby, when I come around
We could make a lot of lovin' 'for the sun goes down

Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite
Looking forward to a little afternoon delight
Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite
And the thought of lovin' you is getting so exciting
Sky rockets in flight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight
Afternoon delight

Afternoon delight!"

Heckler: (yelling) THAT WAS HORRIBLE!

Jim, takes his empty glass and throws it at the heckler.

Heckler: OW! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!

Jim: And now for the next piece....

(this moment of what the hell was that brought to you by wetwired.

I have a lot of respect for people who are working to lose weight, get healthier, get into shape, etc. But for the love of God please wear body-style appropriate clothing. Driving around Stone Mountain on Sunday we were treated to the sight of a twinkie intolerant young lady wearing a tighter-than-skin black lycra body suit. It looked like a nest of pythons trying to fight their way out of a hefty bag.

My eyes still burn.

The new federal dietary guidelines have been submitted for approval. Salt and alcohol are still bad for you but fortunately sugar is still A-okay!

The recommendations included noncontroversial language advising consumers to choose their fats and carbohydrates "wisely" and to limit salt and alcohol.

The experts stopped short of directly urging Americans to cut down on soft drinks, cakes, cookies, pies, candy and other sugar-filled food, saying more research was necessary.

Record numbers of kids are clinically obese and up to two thirds of adults are overweight to some degree or another. Diabetes rates have skyrocketed, riding in tandem with soft drink sales. More research is necessary to see if eating junk food contributes to weight gain?

I was out yesterday getting my license renewed. I had hoped to have some excellent blog fodder from my DMV experience but the bastards were smooth and efficient. All of our preconceived notions of the long lines and horrific treatment were left unfulfilled and we emerged from the experience in dastardly good spirits.

Bloody useless for blogging.

I recently found some old (couple years anyway) pictures on the relic Windows 95 system I use for some regression testing. Among them is one from Memorial Day in 2001 that I've put on my desktop. The only problem is that I'm drooling every time I minimize a window.

(Click for biggie size)

Dislikes: mean people, clowns
Likes: kittens, long walks on a moonlit beach

Bull.Shit.

Why do women say they like long walks on a moonlit beach when it is so patently false? If even half of the women who swear that they love these long walks actually did like them you would be able to go to any beach in the world at the full moon and see hordes of women wandering aimlessly through the surf. It would look like the invasion of the mutant grunion.

I'm just saying.

I found this bit of news all over my regular reads this morning. Tiffany, Joanne Jacobs and Kimberly Swygert are all over it.

It seems that red is losing favor as the ink to use when correcting papers. It's too authoritarian and bold. It intimidates kids and could even harm their self esteem. Purple is soft and comforting and it is much better for their little psyches.

"If you see a whole paper of red, it looks pretty frightening," said Sharon Carlson, a health and physical education teacher at John F. Kennedy Middle School in Northampton. "Purple stands out, but it doesn't look as scary as red."
...
A mix of red and blue, the color purple embodies red's sense of authority but also blue's association with serenity, making it a less negative and more constructive color for correcting student papers, color psychologists said. Purple calls attention to itself without being too aggressive. And because the color is linked to creativity and royalty, it is also more encouraging to students.
...
"I do not use red," said Robin Slipakoff, who teaches second and third grades at Mirror Lake Elementary School in Plantation, Fla. "Red has a negative connotation, and we want to promote self-confidence. I like purple. I use purple a lot."

Tiffany asks what Lovely Wife and I, as homeschoolers, feel about the red/purple issue. Well, Tiffany it's like this: We've found that it's best not to correct at all. Pointing out that a child has made an error can be very damaging to their self esteem. We review things with the child and for the correct answers we give positive feedback like "Yay! You got that one right!" For the ones that are not 'traditionally correct' we will say something like "Oh, wow! That is certainly an exciting alternative!" Using this method we can quickly build up our boys' self esteem without exposing them to damaging concepts like "being wrong".

Um...right. That actually hurt me to put down on paper. The reality is we haven't done much written correcting at all yet. Bear starts book school next week. For the writing that he had done, we're generally right there with him and we correct him as he's doing it. If he brings me something he's done and there are errors I'll point them out to him and we'll fix it together if a writing instrument is handy.

Verbally I'm using red ink though. I guarantee.

POINTS: 3 points to the first person to source the title of this post. No searching, y'all.

The first ever Carnival of the Recipes is up at She Who Will Be Obeyed. All I can say is "Yummy".

Many congratulations to Simon and Mrs.M on the birth of their son. Isn't he a cutie?

You can fool some of the people all of the time and that has "comfortable living" writen all over it.

Please, please, oh please, go to this guest post at Lovely Wife's blog and say how very much you agree with the poster. Don't forget to throw a "Yay" in the comments, just to make it official.

Thank you. The check is in the mail.

UPDATE: Never mind, y'all. LW purged and closed the comments as it was getting way too serious. My thanks to the ones who figured out it was humor, though!

Remember this picture?

(Click for biggie size)

Even though I'm most of a week late, winners have indeed been selected. Look on the bright side; when I'm late with one of these it gives more people a chance to participate!

First place (5 points): The social worker approached the shirtless boy. "Just take one more step, pretty boy..."
Simon

Second place (3 points): There was so much pee in the kiddies pool that even the water pistol turned yellow.
Spirit Fingers

Third place (1 point): "This is my rifle, this is my gun..."
diamond dave

Okay, so I'm pretty loose on my definition for "caption". It comes down to what tickles my funny bone.

Dotfart.

I don't think there's anything else to say about it, really.

(Thanks for the link, Helen!)

D-D-Did I say Cam-Cam-C-C-C-C-Cambodia?

I-I served in Viet-Viet-V-V-V-Vietnam!

Jeff Quinton is looking to map out bloggers who've served in the US Armed Forces. That's any of the big five plus reserves, guards, etc. Montana militias need not apply. See his post for details.

For myself, I was US Navy Reserve from 1987 to 1995. About a quarter of it was in activated status (Desert Shield/Storm) and I was an Operating Room Technician, Hospital Corpsman attached to a mobile Fleet Hospital unit (like M*A*S*H but with hotter nurses).

POINTS: Name the group that made the lyric above a pop hit for 2 points. Name the lead singer of the group for a bonus point. No searching, y'all!

Minutes spent listening to NPR this morning: 27
Number of times Abu Ghraib prisoner abuses were mentioned: 4
Coming up with new cuss phrase "lefty francostein news bitches": Priceless

I was particularly impressed by an exchange between the stateside newsposer and the man on the street reporter in Iraq, which I'll paraphrase:

Stateside Newsposer: I understand that there was terrific fighting in Najaf and large sections of the city are without power, water and phone service while Hakuna Ma-sadr's private army hides in one of Islam's most holy sites. But today is also the anniversary of something that is being noted here in the States and all over the world. A year ago today the United Nations building in Baghdad was bombed. Is that anniversary being noted in Iraq?

Man On The Street: No. The Iraqi's couldn't honestly give a good fuck about a single bomb that went off a year ago. You schmuck.*

Kudos to the man on the street in Iraq.

* The "you schmuck" part was implied in his tone and the 3 seconds of stunned silence before he answered the question.

Unrelated: Is there any mosque, plaza, pizzeria, etc in Iraq that isn't "one of Islam's most holy sites"?

Students allege liberal bias

Ruth Malhotra is a student at Georgia Institute of Technology. When she told her instructor that she would be missing her public policy class to attend a conservative political conference her instructor replied that Ruth would be failing her class.

Malhotra ... ultimately filed a grievance with the school, saying the professor used her public policy class to push her outspokenly liberal viewpoints on students.

"We’re there to learn the foundations of policy, not the professors’ personal platforms," said Malhotra, 20, of Atlanta.

Ruth isn't alone in her persecution. A growing number of conservative students are rebelling against an overwhelming liberal bias on their campuses. The group Students for Academic Freedom collects stories of bias and organizes students to respond. They have over 130 chapters at universities around the country.

Conservative legislators are also moving to help this persecuted minority.

They have proposed a measure that would encourage colleges to present “dissenting sources and viewpoints” in the classroom and to “promote intellectual pluralism” in selecting outside speakers and financing student activities.
...
Republican Rep. Howard P. “Buck” McKeon of California, chairman of the House subcommittee in charge of the reauthorization bill, said the proposals are designed to send a message to liberal academic officials: “You’re using the school in many cases to brainwash and not to educate.”

...isn't the Bush/Cheny '04 bumper sticker redundant?

Get those supplies before they run out!

Dateline: Atlanta

Local blogging celebrity Jim Peacock has been profiled in the Atlanta Journal Constitution (annoying registration required, yech). Friends and family admit to being underwhelmed by his stark rise to fame. Mr.Peacock was unavailable for comment but his spokesman Bear Peacock released a tersely worded statement "He's pukey in the toilet. Can I have ice cream?"

New visitors to the site "Snooze Button Dreams" have been advised to examine the right sidebar where sections such as "People Love This Place / Best of Snooze Button Dreams" and "Blogrolls etc / Constant Reads" will expand to show them lists of hyperlinks to some of Mr.Peacock's favorite posts and favorite other bloggers.

This reporter was furnished with a short list of links to items mentioned in the article:

Posts mentioned in the article:

men's room at work

sour cream

kids in the parental bedroom

the gross guy stuff

dog's fear of water

cog on corporate culture

poetry in the soul

Hunting Todd



Jim's other blogs:

Protomonkey

ZeroIntelligence



Other blogs mentioned in the article:

Suburban Blight (Kelley's blog)

Pork Tornado (Dusty's blog)

Salami Tsunami (Dusty's other blog that he actually gets paid money to write, the lucky bastard.)

In addition, the following posts don't suck too badly:

Dirty White Boy

Learning to Speak

Hot to Trot

Why Oh Why Do I Have To Love Women?

Why Do Elephants Paint Their Tonails Red?

The Infection Spreads

I Sure Do Miss Those O'Grady's Chips

In closing, please do not look at the bageldonut. Seriously, it's nasty.

Set 'em up, knock 'em down. That's what Lovely Wife and Trey did with a couple of posts yesterday.

Start with Lovely Wife's post about a conversation with an intolerant neighbor and then read Trey's contribution. Lovely Wife's post is funny and serious, Trey's bumps it up to seriously funny.

And Trey? It was a "Mrs." Nipple Clamps. The folks at our table were stunnable but they're of the "live and let live and/or enjoy manlove" variety.

Tiffani rocks like no other. Thanks to my blogdaughter's largess I stayed up way too late watching this:

(Click for biggie size)

Scarface is one of my all time favorite movies. You need to ignore all of the white actors with bad accents playing Cubans. Seriously, y'all - who the hell cast Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio? She's too white to play most white people. And once you get past the amazing amounts of gratuitous violence (chainsaw. bathtub. 'nuff said) you're left with a wonderful tale of an immigrant who saw the American Dream and reached out to take it with both hands. Both hands, a submachinegun and a few keys of yeyo up the nose. But you get the picture.

Thank you, Tiffani!

"Move it back and forth! If all you are doing is sucking on it you aren't doing it right."

(Redemption is in the extended entry. Or at least a defense.)

I demand accolades for my inhuman restraint.

Sign seen as Boston Garden:

All salads may be tossed fresh at your request.

The Scene: Garret and I are on our way into work. He's wearing some new duds and talking about his shopping experience.

Garret: So even though they had a huge display of dress shirts they were all pointed collars.

Me: Maybe there's a reason that you can't find button down collars anywhere. Maybe they're a fashion no-no.

Garret: If you're not wearing a tie then a pointed collar isn't doing you much good.

Me: Or maybe they're just so popular they can't keep them in stock.

Garret: Yeah, right. I'm sure that's the reason.

Me: Or maybe it's because you're only going to factory outlets and they don't need to unload button-downs at those places.

Garret: You could stop now.

Me: But it's probably just because they're a fashion no-no.

The Scene: With Garret, on the way to work. A few minutes later.

Garret: So that was two more white shirts for only $40.

Me: All of your shirts are white?

Garret: Yeah, that's the best color for business shirts.

Me: White - it's the new black. Goes with everything.

Garret: That is such a retarded saying.

Me: What? 'Goes with everything'?

Garret: No, 'the new black'. Nobody in business wears black shirts.

Me: But it does go with everything.

Garret: So what? You might wear a black shirt when you go out but when have you ever seen somebody go to work in one?

Me: Never, I guess. Except for in the movies.

Garret: Exactly.

Me: And even then they only wear black shirts at the evil corporations.

Garret: We're not an evil corporation.

Me: Well, we don't think so anyway.

Garret: Even if we are an evil corporation, only the evil leaders of the corporation wear black shirts. All of the minions are still wearing white shirts.

Me: We're minions?

Garret: Yup.

Me: I always wanted to be a minion. All the evil, none of the guilt.

The Scene: Jessie and I are relaxing on the couch on Sunday evening after a long weekend of back-breaking labor.

Me: I'm tired. I wish I had a neck brace.

Jessie: What for?

Me: So I wouldn't have to hold my head up.

Jessie: But then your head would always be up. That's no good.

Me: It would be removable. I'd only need it for times like this when I'm tired but need to keep my head up.

Jessie: You're odd.

Me: Yeah, that's what I need. A removable neck brace. Or somebody to stand behind me and hold my head up.

Jessie: Very odd.

There's also a new conversation with Dopple-G at Protomonkey.

And they say them about me! A few days ago I asked readers to come up with quotes for me and/or my blog. The winners are:

1st Place (5 points): Your blog is like whoa. I could eat it with a spoon. -Spirit Fingers

2nd Place (3 points): Jim makes me want to hit the snoozebutton a few times a day. -Tiffani

3rd Place (1 point): Blogger I'd most like to see naked. -Emma

Honorable Mention: Ha...I have never said one nice word about you...terrible, even more terrible than I usually am... -Ilyka

Those and a couple others are now up on the sidebar under the new "People love this place" section. The "Best Of" has been moved into this section as well.

Enjoy!

The latest entry at Protomonkey.

The Scene: Garret and I are driving in to work. Discussion is centered on the new dress policy at work. Garret did some online shopping the night before and was regaling me with how expensive Joseph A Bank shirts are.

Garret: We're talking $65 a shirt!

Me: $65?

Garret: Yeah, and it doesn't come with a blowjob either.

Me: Maybe that's in the pocket.

Garret: Nope.

Me: Damn. For $65 it better stand up by itself.

Garret: And wash and press itself. And then dress you!

Me: Hey, wait a second. Your khakis cost $65. Why is it okay to spend $65 on pants but not on a shirt?

Garret: Because they're pants.

Me: Oh, that just explains everything now doesn't it?

Garret: Pants are more expensive. They cradle, protect and fondle your nads.

Me: Assuming you are wearing your business shirts tucked in, the shirt will be doing that. In fact it will be closer to your nads than the pants.

Garret: [Pauses to give me "the look".]

Me: It's true. Think of the pants as your own hand, holding her hand against your nadular bits.

Garret: [More "look".]

Me: The shirt is her hand.

Garret: Then what are my boxers in this scenario?

Me: They're the chocolate sauce.

I am no longer permitted to discuss shirts while Garret is driving.

The most frequent question we get when people discover that we're homeschooling is "But aren't you worried about your boys' social skills"? You know - how are they going to become socially adept without being in a group of their peers?

No, we're not at all worried about that. Contrary to the ready myths, schools are not about socialization. They are really about institutionalization. Where in the world are you regulated in every aspect of thought and deed the way you are in school? Where else are you restricted to dealing only with people the same age as you are? Where else are you given so little autonomy as in school? Take "school socialization" into the adult world and it's as funny as it is ridiculous. The following examples are from an excellent article by Lisa Russell. I can't find the original but Lovely Wife has a copy:

We didn't get acquired by the Crimson Permanent Assurance after all. We've been assimilated by the Borg Collective. That might sound scary but it's pretty awesome being on the inside of the all-powerful cube of destruction and menace.

I'm not joking about the assimilation either. A day after the acquisition was announced we were no longer TheCompany. We are now The Duluth Office of the Collective (formerly TheCompany). We will be fully integrated within 90 days. Seriously.

The Collective identified our vertical market (Distribution software) and bought a dominating share of it in less than 5 months. And they're not done. They are currently (right at this very moment) busy assimilating 4 more companies.

Prophet21 was our bogeyman for years. They had financial backing that we couldn't match. When we competed head to head they would undercut us so badly they'd make themselves hemorrhage but they'd steal the sale. They did the same to our sister companies. If you went through the hallways here and said "Prophet21" to somebody you'd likely get the finger and a "fuck you too" back. In the span of just a couple of days Prophet21 has turned from a source of nightmares into a target.

It's good to be the Collective.

I spent a half hour on the phone today with a recruiter from BigCompany.com, who needs both network admin types as well as QA people. She's sending me some things to look over.

Nothing for forever then as soon as my job isn't being eliminated I get hits. What's up with that?

UPDATE: This one has suddenly become topical too so I'm topping it.

Some folks have been giving Helen some guff because she's a strong supporter of a certain right-wing weblog. Right off the bat I have a low opinion of them. You get to the point where you think you should be telling other people how to think and you are past the point of rational discourse in my book. What really burns my butt here is the weblog these people are complaining about. You're all familiar with it to some extent because you're reading it right now.

Yeah, isn't that a kick and a half for your ass? Snooze Button Dreams viewed as a right-wing blog?

I ended up at 0,0 on the Political Compass. I voted for Al "Watch Me Implode" Gore, y'all. That's how right-wing I am.

If I had to be pigeon holed into a major party I'd have to pick "fuck you, no I don't either". I am one of those rare breed of citizens who looks at issues instead of parties. All politicians are scum to one extent or another. I firmly believe that there is something fundamentally wrong with anybody who would run for public office. There's a mental disjoin required for anybody to want to be a politician. I am most certainly not going to align myself with any group of fundamentally unsound persons.

There are some parts of a traditional Republican agenda that I agree with. There are some parts of a traditional Democratic agenda that I agree with. Same with Libertarians, Reformists and even a bit of Green. I do not fall neatly (or even sloppily) into any of these groups.

So why do casual viewers think I'm a conservative? There are a couple of reasons that I can think of:

1. I think that Michael Moore is a bag of puss.


2. I absolutely despise the Clintons.


3. I am hawkish on actions in Afghaniraq.


4. I have an American flag in my sidebar. (I've got one on my van too. And two on my house.)


5. I believe that the War on Terror is a real war that we need to pursue vigilantly and mercilessly.


6. I believe that it is wrong to slaughter Jews.

These items have become associated with the Republican party and therefore these people are painting me with the conservative brush. That happens when you rush to a snap decision or when you are small-minded enough that you must stick people into your own preconceived categories. People who have taken the time to know me have discovered why I think that Michael Moore is a bag of puss (because he's a lying bastard), why I despise the Clintons (because they are lying bastards; also, Hillary is one shade light of Stalin), why I'm hawkish on actions in the Middle East (because that is where the terrorists come from), why I have American flags all over (because I love my country; I love being a part of the greatest nation in the world and I am proud to show everybody how much I support her), why I'm so pro-War on Terror (because these people are wrong and evil and won't ever stop until we kill all of them; think mini-Terminators only not so tough), and why I am against killing Jews (do I really need something in the parenthesis for this one?).

Add to that my dislike of waste and big government, my intolerance of idiocy and my perfect willingness to write off any person, group, country or continent that does not agree with the last two items on that list and that probably explains why these people have jumped to the wrong conclusion about my politics.

Who are these people anyway? I don't know them and I doubt I ever will. The reason why is probably another reason that they've incorrectly assumed I'm a right-wing type. If you look at my blogroll you won't see many political blogs but most of the ones you see are right leaning. There is a very good reason for this. I have found leftish blogs to be increasingly strident and angry over the past year. I have lost a few blogs from my blogroll, written by people I liked, because it became painful to read them. I honestly can't hear any more from the Bush Lied crowd. I can't stand hearing explanations of moral equivalence, bashing against America, and hysterical hyperbole about the government any longer. People that polarize and publish to the left just seem to be getting bitchier and bitchier and I'm sick of listening to it.

Besides, I read political blogs mainly for the news perspectives. I can get the lefty slant on news items through Reuters and AP feeds or any number of regular newspapers.

To sum up, if you happen to be one of the people giving Helen a hard time please knock it the hell off. First, you are a jackass for doing it. Second, you are wrong. Third, I really mean it - you are a jackass.

Ilyka looks at the newsies and finds them wanting.

His IQ test results rated him at 147. This isn't surprising as there are several acupressure points for increased mental acuity located inside the anus and he has been having his nethers probed with frightening regularity.

UPDATE: My own results show an IQ of 152 so I'm officially retracting the butt probe explanation.

Well, actually not. The new boss is an order of magnitude larger and doesn't need to get rid of Quality Assurance in order to hire another programmer.

My position is no longer being eliminated. Yay!

Now this is no guarantee that my job will remain the same after the acquisition operation plan is cemented. I might be part of a QA group, I might be working from headquarters instead of this building, I might be working on my product and the other major one from my (former) company. We'll know what's happening there by September.

The important thing is I've got a job and will be continuing to have a job.

Thanks to all of you who have assisted in my job search. You've done everything from reviewing my resume to cheering me up to sending me job notices to whoring out my resume at your places of business. You've been absolutely awesome.

You're all invited over for a beer.

I am working for a new company as of yesterday. Sorry I didn't tell anybody but I didn't know about it until the company meeting a couple of minutes ago.

As of yesterday the company I work for was acquired by a multinational. This is exciting in many ways. Primarily it is exciting because this same multinational has acquired two of our biggest rivals in the past 5 months. The three of us together now form the largest business unit for distribution management in the world. A business unit with a projected revenue of $100 million this year.

I won't really know until tomorrow but it is looking very good that my job has been saved.

Can I get a WHOOP-WHOOP!!!!

POINTS: One point for the first person to source the title of this post (without searching).

Lovely Wife has her own blog. Oh, yeah.

Go take a look at Flaptrap.

Show me your war face!

(Click for biggie size)

Points: But of course! This will be open for a couple days. Probably to next Monday.

There's a new entry at Protomonkey and damn is it good. It involves partial nudity and severe pain!

Special points bonus: Name the source for the title of the Protomonkey post and get 2 points. Answers in this post please - Protomonkey itself is a points free zone. Don't forget - no searching for the answer. Thanks!

If you want to be advised whenever a points offer goes up send me an email. I had to take the subscription form off of the sidebar because some jackass was putting in fake email addressess.

Sunday afternoon we were out enjoying the beautiful weather. [ed - The weather was really, really wonderful. Just ask Kelley.] The wading pool was filling up and the squirt guns were on semi-auto. When the pool had filled I went to the faucet to turn it off and noticed the two sprinklers that had been left by the previous owner (the kind that makes a fan of water that goes up and over and back again, not the 'chut-chut-chut-chut-chut' spin around kind). A light bulb appeared above my head - the boys had never had the experience of running through a sprinkler.

Without delay I set up the first sprinkler in front of the house, just far enough that the spray didn't go onto the front porch. The kids were getting curious and were edging closer to see what was going on. Bear(5) asked me what I was doing. I replied cryptically "Setting up a sprinkler". Okay, so that's not really cryptic to you and me but to somebody who doesn't know what a sprinkler is it is fairly abstruse. He nodded sagely with an "Of course he's setting up a sprinkler. How silly of me to ask" look on his face.

With the sprinkler attached and positioned I went over to the faucet to turn it on. The boys stared eagerly, wonderful anticipation and raw curiosity on their faces. I turned the faucet with a loud "Tah-dah!"

And water dribbled out of the obviously busted sprinkler.

Bacon(3) had a bemused look on his face as if he were looking for the joke and not willing to admit there wasn't one. Bear gave an encouraging "Wow Daddy!" and then walked back to the picnic table. Burger(2) tackled the dog.

Okay, not exactly an unqualified success. I turned the faucet off and switched over to the other sprinkler. I actually took a minute to monkey with this one to get the gear doohickey lined up with the spray whatsit so the water shooter part pointed the right way. (I'm considering a career in sprinkler maintenance. Please send all offers to my regular address.)

With a much subdued "Tah-dah" I turned on the faucet and lo and behold, water shot from the sprinkler like flecks of food from Michael Moore's mouth um...like a fan of dihydrous oxide under a hundred or so pounds of hydrostatic pressure like, like...uh...like water from a garden hose when you put your thumb over the end to make that hard spray fan of water oh, screw it. Water shot out like water from a sprinkler is supposed to shoot out. Unless you're in Pre-K and lived all your life in apartments you should know what the hell water from a sprinkler looks like.

(And just how good are your metaphors at 7:00 o'clock in the morning in a pre-caffeinated state? Yeah, that's what I thought. Bitches.)

The boys gave a gleeful scream of pure excitement and then looked at me with dumbfounded expressions. "What do you do with it, Daddy" asked Bear, apparently the designated vocal representative for the children during this story.

"You run through it" I replied. "Oh!" he exclaimed and then tentatively did so. He was a natural. Well, as natural as Martin Short playing a palsy victim during an epileptic attack would be. He did make it over the sprinkler though and he did get a bit wet and he did get a big smile on his face. Success!

As the other two followed his example and ran through the sprinkling water I went to coil up the hose and make things a bit neater (don't ever forget how anal retentive I am). As I turned toward the flower bed my left foot came down on something sharp. Something really, really sharp. Sharp enough to draw an involuntary naughty word out of my mouth. I jerked my foot up and stood there doing a crane impression while I looked for the sweetgum ball or bramble or thorn that I had just stepped on.

I found a curved piece of glass about two inches long. With blood on it. My blood. I looked at my foot and found it fairly covered in blood. Lovely Wife noticed my giant bird impersonation at about this time and called out to ask if I needed help. I informed her that the lawn was covered in glass caltrops and that if she ever wanted to see her children walk again she would rescue them from this hellish place post haste. Or maybe I just said that I stepped on a piece of glass. I know that I was thinking the former anyway.

She did rescue the children and repositioned the sprinkler on the other side of the lawn for them while I hobbled over to the table and used a towel to staunch the flow of my lifeblood upon the earth. I knew I shouldn't have given blood last Friday. You're just asking for a vascular crisis when you put yourself a pint low.

Lovely Wife brought out the first aid kit and I bandaged up the foot. I won't gross you out about the wound. Suffice to say that the meat in my foot looks remarkably like top sirloin. Ironically, the shard got me in the exact point for "expression of pleasure" on the old acupuncture of the foot chart. I guess that explains the raging erection I've had for the past two days.

To add insult to injury (literally) the boys ran through the sprinkler for approximately one minute and forty-five seconds. They were finished with it before I could even stop bleeding. If it had been Mario's Sprinkler Party game they'd still be playing it.

A 'brown trout' really is a fish.

I wonder if there's really a 'stink pickle' too.

It's even wrong on several distinctly different levels: The Wedding Album

And he is offering his help in the healing process, to whoever might need it.

This is just so out of this world.

He'll be getting whacked in jail. I give him a year tops before some patriotic convict slips a sharpened spoon between his ribs and does what our courts can't seem to do correctly.

(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)

Ninjai, the little ninja.

Okay, so the name isn't all that clever. The flash anime movies are pretty neat though. The story is in a series of a dozen movies, the first 10 are completed.

(Hat tip to Dopple-G)

Talk about textbook. We've got a name that's really a cross-bred hybrid of two names, the requisite -lyn, the replacement of everything possible with a K or Y. Top it off with no obvious nickname to fall back on (Krys?) and no ethnicity to balance/account for the weirdness, and we may have engineered before you the ultimate bad baby name: simulateously strange, stupid, difficult and boring.

Bad baby names came up in conversation Saturday night at dinner with Trey and The Good Doctor so I was tickled to find Baby's Named a Bad Bad Thing at No.2 Pencil.

Why not? I'm going to put up a sidebar portion with things people have said about me and/or my blog(s). Here are some examples:

A new high point in the politics of victimization. Or is that low point? Well, it's a point, anyway.
-Instapundit

OH MY GOD. That site is yours? You are fucking AMAZING!
-Everyday Stranger

I love it!! Your style is fantastic and you're very funny
-Rachel Lucas

I'm handing the "king twisted" crown to you.
-Harvey Olson

You may as well change the name snoozebuttondreams.com to glennreynoldsismybitch.com because he's that good.
-Jen

So dig out those cool pithy things you wrote about me the first time you (in trembling amazement at my wit and insight) linked to Snooze Button Dreams (or one of my other blogs) or make up something completely new. Originality is cool, so is creativity.

Whatever quotes get used will be linked so you get a little bonus there. I'll also get the 2004-2005 Points season cranked up by throwing out a couple handfuls of points for the good ones.

Rachel Ann has uprooted the Willow Tree from Blog*Spottia and planted it in fertile Munuvian soil. Go say 'Hi' and help me welcome my new neighbor.

Scene: Dining area in the Kerry/Edwards tour bus. Big John is behind the table wearing a short sleeve dress shirt (pinstripe, power tie pulled a bit loose, top button undone). He is drinking from his coffee mug (Kerry/Edwards logo on white mug) and watching the scenery go by. He puts the mug down and begins speaking, still watching the landscape zip past.

Kerry: (sadly) Some people are saying some pretty strong things about me. Things that my opponents are starting to pick up and run with. They are questioning my ability to lead and questioning my behavior in the Vietnam theatre. Heck, they aren't questioning - they're practically yelling it at the tops of their voices.

Big John turns to face the camera. He picks up the coffee, takes a swig, puts it down. The slightly sad look on his face is replaced with a bemused grin.

Kerry: Good! Those individuals are Americans and they are entitled to their opinions. What's more, as Americans they are entitled to say them out loud, on the radio, on the television, on the Internet, wherever and however they can. That is what America is about and I applaud them for taking a stand about something they believe strongly in.

But those are opinions that they are saying. My opinions are markedly different from theirs. My friends and supporters have very different opinions. The men who served on my boats with me while I was in Vietnam sure aren't voicing opinions like theirs. The good people of Massachusets who have elected me to almost two decades of service in the United States Senate certainly have different opinions.

Now we might not state our opinions so...forcefully, but we believe in them just as strongly. I hope that their message won't make you feel pressured into making your own opinion. I hope that you'll take the time to get to know me a bit before you take anybody else's opinion as your own.

Thank you, America.

Big John picks up the mug again and takes a sip as he turns back to the window to look out at the passing amber waves of grain. Cue mellow version of campaign rock song. Voiceover with legal mumbo jumbo.

(Link via Ace of Spades)

I'm pretty used to getting a couple of comments a week on the original Pimp My Ride post. What's surprised me in the past week or so are comments asking me to pimp somebody's ride and these comments are actually on Pimp My Ride posts that ridicule people for asking me to pimp their rides.

How.Stupid.Are.These.People?

As they didn't follow the established form and they commented on different posts I'll follow their leads and give some freeform responses.

Name: mikime jackson

mtv please pimp my ride my sitter have a old jeep she got for collage in it got no radio, the handle to the were you put it in park and drive is broken off, the back seats are kinda dirty, the air dont work, and the platic windows keep comming off. the zippers are to rusty so they wont zip up. please please please pimp my ride zip code xxxxx galevston 7200 xxxxxx lane apt#xxxx

Mikime lives in 'galevston', which I believe is in Texas. If anybody from Texas is reading here, please go smack Mikime in the head. Thanks.

There was a brief period when it was in doubt whether Moore's movie would be eligible for the award. It was broadcast in Cuba recently and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has a rule that a documentary cannot be broadcast on TV or Internet for 9 months after theatrical release. The Academy has decided that F911 is still eligible.

Realistically that's the only decision they could have made. The Cuban government broadcast the movie illegally. You really can't disqualify a movie because a hostile foreign power pirated it. What you can do is ask why governments like Communist Cuba and terrorist organizations like Fatah are distributing the movie but that's neither here nor there.

This decision will, of course, guarantee that F911 will win the award for best documentary. The culture in Hollywood is such that it is a sure thing. They'll wait until the ceremony to make it official but Mikey can clear off some discarded KFC buckets from the shelf right now to get a spot ready, should he choose to be proactive.

I had always thought that documentaries were supposed to be truthful. Sadly, that's not the case. Although every dictionary in the world indicates that a documentary should be a collection of truths the Academy does not. Jen detailed this nicely a while back. Here's some excerpted bits (emphasis mine):

Encarta: giving facts and information rather than telling a fictional story

Dictionary.com: Presenting facts objectively without editorializing or inserting fictional matter, as in a book or film; A work, such as a film or television program, presenting political, social, or historical subject matter in a factual and informative manner and often consisting of actual news films or interviews accompanied by narration.

Miriam-Webster: of, relating to, or employing documentation in literature or art; broadly : FACTUAL, OBJECTIVE (a documentary film of the war)

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences: An eligible documentary film is defined as a theatrically released non-fiction motion picture dealing creatively with cultural, artistic, historical, social, scientific, economic or other subjects. It may be photographed in actual occurrence, or may employ partial re-enactment, stock footage, stills, animation, stop-motion or other techniques, as long as the emphasis is on fact and not on fiction.

Essentially the Academy redefines documentary to substitute "creative" for "objective" and "emphasis on fact" for "factual".

Factual? We can't do that! That would be boring! Just make sure that there are a couple of facts in there somewhere. For the rest, get creative.

If you want to find dictionary definitions for Moore's movie it isn't very hard. This one fits very well:

the spreading of ideas, information, or rumor for the purpose of helping or injuring an institution, a cause, or a person; ideas, facts, or allegations spread deliberately to further one's cause or to damage an opposing cause; deceptive or distorted information that is systematically spread.

That's the definition of propaganda.

(News bit gleaned from Phillip Coons)

Awards are way, way down at the bottom of the extended entry of the post. Sort of like the way they save Best Picture for last.

The winning entries
1st place (5 points): Helen with "Social services intervened when it was revealed a local couple made their children fight to the death, all for the prize of just being able to wear a shirt."
2nd place (3 points): Emma with "Whatever doesn't kill them before they are ten will be a fine personality trait when they are 30."
3rd place (1 points): Simon with "No children were harmed in the production of this story."

Emma gets honorable mention and a bonus point for offering to babysit the spawn my kids. Victor gets a point for his excellent impersonation of a French politician.

UPDATES:

More info from Photodude. Reid is the fellow who got resolution last month when this problem first surfaced. (Only Atlas happened to be lying out of their ass then, of course.)

Chief Wiggles has an update too. In brief, Operation Give (OG) is in contact with the Georgia State Attorney's office, they are getting legal counsel here (chances are good for pro bono), at this time only Atlas Line can actually prove where any money is and they aren't talking, the goods in the two containers stuck in Kuwait are going to be transhipped by the US military so the donated items will get to where they need to be and OG will stop incurring daily fees for the containers sitting in Kuwait.

Atlas Line is a shipping company headquartered here in Atlanta. Click on that link for one of the most painful websites I have seen since late 1997. They are not members of the Atlanta Better Business Bureau and appear to be in violation of Trademark against Atlas Van Line. They have only been in business since July 2002. They also appear to be thieves.

Brief history: Atlas Line was the shipper used by Chief Wiggles and Operation Give to ship three containers of donated goods to Iraq. The first container was delivered and was late coming back. The leery shipper on the other end then required a $10,000 deposit for the containers. Operation Give sent $10,000 to Atlas Line. It turned out that the amount needed was $10,000 per container. Operation Give sent an additional $20,000 to Atlas Line. The $30,000 was never received by the overseas shipper. Operation Give was not refunded.

I called Atlas Line today but was unable to speak to any of the principles. They're all out for the day. I did speak with Mary, who did not want to tell me her last name. She is an Operation Clerk there. She assured me that Atlas did not steal Operation Give's money, checks were sent overseas, they were in fact cashier's checks and Atlas does not now have any of Operation Give's money in their own bank account. According to Mary, they would not have been in business so long if they "ripped people off". I guess Mary thinks that two years is an exceptionally long time.

Like most people who read about this my bullshit detector is going off the scale. To that end I'm more than happy to have sent a missive similar to this post to every local news channel and paper.

That's right, y'all. In the Commissar's Blogville High School yearbook I was in the Car Club for three years. Hot cars, fast women. That's what it's all about.

Or is it the other way around?

A note for those who think the USA really needs to take a page from France's book:

in just over two hundred years France has burned its way through two kingdoms, two empires, an occupation government, and four republics.

As Pixy notes, certain other countries have maintained the same stable and strong governments over that time period.

Here's an interesting game that Dopple-G sent me. Catch the wad and toss it in the wicker, so to speak.

She became a moderator for the local Freecycle group. That's where we got our big-ass gas grill (say that five times fast), ping-pong table and magnolia trees (all for free). Anyway, the local paper interviewed her and another moderator about the group and the article was published today.

Way to go, Baby!

There's a new item up at Protomonkey. Enjoy!

Feel free to subscribe to the notify list over there (in the sidebar). I'll announce the next couple of entries here but after a few weeks it'll be on its own.

Jesus Mohamed was a streetie we encountered occasionally on our treks through Berkeley. Jesus Mohamed wore a natty robe and not much else and he SPOKE IN CAPITAL LETTERS. He was VERY CONCERNED about the environment and the fact that we young people DID NOT GIVE A RIP. He had MANY PLANS to save the world, if only the TEACHERS AND RICH PEOPLE would listen to him.

Why do I mention Jesus Mohamed here? Well, apparently he figured out how to use a computer because this nut who wants me to Pimp his Ride sounds exactly like him. The 'ride' in question is his wheelchair. Wouldn't it be freaky if this really was him? Maybe a few years ago he got hit by a car so he's in a wheelchair now. Maybe the kindly tree huggers out there in Berkeley took pity on the poor soul, brought him to the library and showed him how to use the computer so he could share his message with the world instead of just the Navy pukes on their way to dorm parties where they would steal away all of the hot co-eds from the hemp sandal guys.

In any case, I can't take the chance of being polite to this guy. As there's an outside chance that it's really Jesus Mohamed I have a tradition to uphold. His incredibly long and rambling messages are in the extended entry. Due to their length and general meaninglessness (is that a word? it should be) I've summarized for him:

From: Terral Green

PEOPLE CALL,ME THE THINKER,BECAUSE I,THINK A,LOT,,,,I AM,A,VET,THE,MILITARY,KIND NOT THE ANIMAL KIND I LOVE ANIMALS I HAVE THOUGHT OF 46 THINGS BUT THE RICH PEOPLE WONT LISTEN,TO ME I RUN THE SYSTEM I WORKED,TWO JOBS,BUT,AM,NOW DISABLED VET,I WANT TO BUILD A CASKET,OUT,OF,GARBAGE,SO OUR KIDS WILL BE HEALTHY,BIG CO LIKE JCPENNY AND USATODAY WON'T DO IT,,,,PIMP MY RIDE IT IS A WHEEL,CHAIR,THANKS,,,THE STORY IS I AM DISABLED I WAS HIT BY A DRUNK DRIVER AND DECAPITATED AND DIED IT WAS OUT OF BODY I MET GOD,PIMP MY WHEEL CHAIR,THANKS,,,,THE THINKER

To which there's really only one applicable response:

From: Xzibit
Subject: Home BOY! What you up to?

Jesus Mohamed, is dat you? I know it you, doggggg!! It's Smappy Mo-D here. You remember me, right? We used to hang out in the grounder park in Berkeley when the punks from the university tried to chase us down, remember? Used to pick lice outta each other's hair and shit? Good times, homey. Good times.

So what you up to now? You said you a Crip now? Man, I hang with the Bloods so I don't know if we can hook up if you know what I'm saying. Can't be having no Cripples on the show neither no how. We owned by AOL and they don't tolerate any of that handi-capable stuff. Prime beef only. Dongs and Hos, know what I'm saying? Can't be showing no ugliflesh on America's channel.

You still in contact with that bitch what wore the tank top and plastic flip-flops all the time? Man, she ran off wit my burrito once. I still wanna find that skank and show her what that burrito meant to me. Never should have married that ho, I tell you what.

Take care homey and don't be a stranger. With email I mean - don't you fuckin come within a state of me in the real world. I got a gat and a posse now. I'm just sayin.

Peace, out!
Xzibit

Is Terral Green really Jesus Mohammed? If not, will Jim be able to determine which of them is more insane? Stay tuned to find out!

The Scene: It's dinner time at the Peacock family table. Since it's my Birthday I've spent the past hour assembling a new bike for Jason. No, I'm not exactly sure how that happened either. Anyway, nobody was hungry and it was a celebration day so we skipped dinner and went right into the cake. This sort of made cake the dinner using my well primed kid-logic.

Jason (3): I want ice cream!

Me: No ice cream until you finish your dinner.

Jessie (wife): It's cake, Jim.

Me: Doesn't matter. Cake is dinner so no desert until he eats his cake. [ed - There was just enough chocolate ice cream for a big ol' bowl for daddy later in the evening. This explains my resistance to sharing.]

Jimmy (2): I wan tizzurt!

Jason: I want desert!

Me: You got a bike. You don't need desert. [ed - There was vanilla ice cream left but that belongs to Momma. Although I was weakening by this point I was wise enough not to consider offering the vanilla.]

Jason: Please can I have...

Me: 'May I'

Jason: Please may I have ice cream?

Jimmy: Pease can have tizzurt?

Jeremy (5): Please Daddy?

Me: Well, okay. [ed - There's really no saying no at that point. The combined cuteness of the three of them cuts through any defense like Han Solo's blaster through a wet jawa.]

[Break - Ice cream has been dished out to all 3 children plus Daddy. Momma abstained. All of the chocolate ice cream is gone. Score, Jason 1 - Daddy - 0.]

Jason: I want chocolate!

Me: You have chocolate.

Jason: I want more chocolate!

Me: You've still got cake on your plate. Eat that.

Jason: No. I want more ice cream.

Me: There isn't any more.

Jason: No more ice cream?

Me: No more chocolate. There's only vanilla left. [ed - Damn these inquisitive children and their many questions! What is this, the Inquisition? I am determined that there will be some sort of ice cream left for my own very greedy purposes whilst relaxing before heading off to slumber.]

Jason: Can I have some zafilla? [ed - Jason used to say 'tamilla' for vanilla. He can say 'vanilla' with no problem now but subs in different letters out of his unshakeable sense of tradition as well as a desire to irritate me. It doesn't work - I pretend to be annoyed but I really think it's cute as hell.]

Me: That's Mommy's. You'll have to ask her.

Jason: Momma, can I have some familla ice cream?

Jessie: You need to ask your Daddy. He'll have to go get it. [ed - I am the official ice cream scooper of the household. Proper scoopage of decently frozen ice cream requires manly upper arm strength or one of those heated scoopers. Only losers use heated scoopers.]

Jason: Daddy, can I have some rabilla ice cream?

Me: No.

Jason: (shocked silence)

Jeremy: Burn!!

[Final score: Jason 1, Daddy 1. I retire with the tie - no need to press my luck on such a festive occasion.

I ended up not having any ice cream that evening. But I could have!! Go me!]

Happy Belated Blogiversary to Ilyka!

Yeah, I'm a few days late. So what? She was late first!

Yup, sometime around the very end of November 1968 or very early December of the same year my Mom got knocked up. Each 2nd of August we celebrate one of the two instances where we're reasonably certain that two of the people I care deeply about both got laid.

Congrats Mom and Dad on this 35.75th anniversary of your "lucky" day!

Update: It's a celebration for Serenity's folks too!