Jim over at SnoozeButton started Protomonkey a long long time ago in a land far far away, and it has had a few revitalizations since then. I added my latest contribution here. Check it out along with the other short fictions stories posted there.

On Friday I got a call from my best friend. He's been in Costa Rica for about six months working on various sustainable development projects; the guy's like a brother to me. Anyways, we had a great weekend did all kinds of cool stuff.

But last night we watched the movies 'Million Dollar Baby' and 'Hotel Rwanda'. After such a great weekend, those movies were the ultimate buzzkill. Honestly, by the time I'd wasted five or six hours of my life watching those flicks; I was ready to go out in the backyard and fall on my sword. What a depressing couple of hours that was. I got up today and it's all rainy, I feel like I should check myself into a crisis center or something.

We decided to ditch out wedding reception plans at the parents house. IT was turning out to be lots of legwork and a real logistics nightmare. So I had to call the DJ back and re-book him. I'm sure he's fully convinced that we are by far the most clueless people he's ever done business with. Instead of doing it at my parent's house to save money, we're going to do the rehersal dinner at their place, pizza and beer most likely; and use the money we save on the rehersal dinner to pay for a better reception. Ah, who am I kidding, we'll probably end up using the extra money as a downpayment on a photographer. I mean, given what these wedding industry types charge, we should be able to work off our indentured servitude sometime shortly after Hillary's first term as President.

The funny thing is both she and I agree that eloping would be superior to planning a wedding like we are. But we talked about it, and decided that the whole point of us wanting to have a wedding is to share it with all the friends and family over the years who've meant anything to us. And if fulfilling that goal means spending lots of money on a big party, then fine. Those mothers better bring some good gifts and fat checks though. For real. No tickee no washee.

Ryan rips into a gaybasher like Michael Moore into a table full of boiled crawdads.

Well...actually I guess the guy isn't a gaybasher. He's a speculative gaybasher.

A wannabe gaybasher?

Ah, hell. Just go read before I confuse you further.

I tried to teach myself to surf recently. I can't decide if I'm a worse teacher than I am a surfer or vice-versa. Either way I've decided to take lessons. There's a Hawaiian expatriate at work who gives cheap lessons. I'm not sure what in the hell makes a native Hawaiian move from his home to this relative dump, but maybe he knows something I don't.

We've been trying to pin down a photog for the wedding recently. Some people actually had the nerve to tell us they didn't want to book us because; based on our budget, they were afraid of losing someone else who could make them more money! No offense, but I went to school with some photography majors, and they're hardly the type to turn away work, nah mean?

The best part was this little exchange.
Dialing phone, ringing.
"Hello, Fucknut's Photography."
"Yeah, Fucknut; I was just wondering what your rates are for weddings. I'm looking for someone to take some shots for maybe an hour or two during and after the wedding."
"Well, we normally don't do that. But what our usual package involves is about 4-5 hours of photos, usually about 2,000 photos narrowed down to 1,200 really nice shots, and we put them on disk for you. The package runs about $1300."
"$1300 for the whole day?"
"Yeah, and we may show up for the rehersal dinner just to get to know the wedding party."
"Hm. Who makes $1300 a day? Isn't that what the whore in Pretty Woman charged?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The whore in the movie, I think she charged $1,000 bucks a day. And she was played by Julia Roberts. I mean, unless you're gonna show up with a hot, really hot, hooker on your arm who will suck my dick on command, I don't really think I'm willing to pay $1300 for you to stand around at my wedding and take photos for a few hours."
"We'll be at the rehersal dinner too."
"Right, which I am paying for. I'm not going to pay you to stand around at my rehersal dinner, eat my food, and not have my dick sucked by the hot whore you're going to have with you."
"Well, we could drop the price to $1,000."
"Who the fuck makes $1,000 a day?"
"It's actually more than one d-"
"Right. I forgot, you'll be at the rehersal dinner. Great. I'll tell you what, $850 for both days and a blow up doll and you got yourself a deal."
-click-

It's like they don't want to make any money. I mean, if someone offered me $850 for a day's work, I'd be all about it. I should just buy a better digicam, put a decent looking whore on retainer, and I'd have myself the goddamn cheapest photography biz in the nation; plus a sweet gimmick to boot.

Sorry I haven't been blogging lately, but I've been in the hospital. It's nothing serious, I've just been reading too much news lately. See, I was perusing my favorite stock market site the other day and found out that apparently, there's no reason for oil prices to be so high. According to that guy they're inflated. Hmph.

Then over the next few days some big oil company's turn in earnings. Marathon doubles their earnings this year, Exxon's increase by a third, then Shell does them one or two better. It's good to know that when I pay $2.36 a gallon at the pump that it's not all going straight into some fatcat's pocket right? How much have gas prices increased in the past year? Little over a third right? The frustration begins to set in.

Then I click on over to CNN, where I read that a bill has just been passed that "sends billions of dollars in tax breaks and subsidies to energy companies, but is expected to do little to reduce U.S. oil consumption or dampen high energy prices." Sa-weet!

So while I'm paying out my broke ass for gasoline, it's not because supply is shortening or internal costs are increasing; it's because these fat oil bastards are eating so much Alaskan crab and Crystal that their Armani suits don't fit anymore and they've got to get new ones stiched every month or so. And when these rich big oil motherfucks do their taxes at the end of the year, they get to write of billions. What the fuck is going on? That's when the doc said the aneurysm hit. I passed out in my chair, my head went forward onto the desk table, and I suffered a mild concussion. Good thing I was surfing the net at work, or I probably would've never been found.

Unions are in the news lately. Seems the big annual party for the AFL-CIO is missing some of the biggest partiers this year. Yup, the two largest single unions, the SIEU (pronounced "sue", as in that's what they do) and the mob Teamsters have called it quits and started up their own little group called The Coalition To Win, or TCTW (pronounced "Tick Two" which is very fitting when you picture two blood sucking insects).

And there was much rejoicing! Yay!

There really is nothing like a freshly shorn scrotum. You really should try it.

I'm just saying.

Because I got the most fantabulous birthday present in the mail. Helen, you rock!

Points

Can you guess what splendiferous present Helen bought me? Three points for the first person to get it right!

And yes, there is enough clue in this post to get it right.

A bit over two years ago somebody outed Valerie Plame ne-Wilson. This may or may not have been a crime. Nobody knew for sure. Two years later it has turned into a massive kerfuffle with independent investigators, grand juries, millions spent on investigation. And nobody knows if a crime was committed.

Here's a clue - if two years ago something happened and nobody knew if it was a crime and you've spent millions of dollars and taken up tens of thousands of man-hours investigating it and you still don't even know if a crime was committed, it's pretty safe to assume that no crime was committed.

For the love of Pete, put this sucker to bed already.

When the heat tops 95 and the humidity goes with it, when just walking out the door causes a film of sweat to sheen upon the skin, when walking across the parking lot is a painful experience and even the act of sitting down no longer brings comfort, it becomes very apparent that it is way past time to trim the ball hair.

The wee little lass is growing into her element. She's growing up and into something as awesome as we ever could've imagined!

On a side note, I think her and Jennifer could have high times. They're both so similar: intelligent, snarky, well read, but not impenetrable. Real people.

Here's to the ladies!

I just figured out how to use my desktop monitor and my lappy monitor at the same time to double my screen size. How cool is that?

Now if only I could learn how to multi-task...

We had such an awesome time on Saturday. Boudicca, her three young Celts, and her sister Morrigan came over for a BBQ. There's always a bit of trepidation when you meet somebody for the first time and (for me at least) this is there regardless of how well I know somebody online. This evaporated as soon as Bou got out of her car and gave me a big "Hi" and a smile. If you've read her writing - she's just like that for real.

Of course now that I've been with her (not in the biblical sense - get your minds out of the gutter you dirty birds) one question does arise. What's up with the diet thing, Bou? Completely unnecessary - you're gorgeous.

The more perceptive of you will note that I brought that up here instead of in person. Like grampa used to say "Never talk to a woman about her figure. It's much safer to post it openly in a public place frequented by hundreds of people after ensuring that there are several hundred miles between you." Heh.

One of the externs came in looking for Carol, the program coordinator. Apparently this poor bastard let her CNA license lapse. Her renewal application needs to be faxed to the state ASAP and she needs the hospital's DFS license number. So this young girl is looking at me all running off at the mouth about "Oh my gawsh! What am I going to do?!" Of course no one else is in the office because it's Friday. I have no fucking clue really what any of the stuff she's spouting means because I'm an analyst, but i decided to help her out, give her a few phone numbers of people to call.

Then she starts wanting me to let her borrow my phone, when there's one in Matt's office that he doesn't even use. I mean, it's like two steps away, and she was using it two minutes ago to call her mommy to bring her lunch or whatever it is that externs use a phone for. Then she starts getting all huffy and melodramatic about "Oh, what ever shall I do?"" and I'm thinking, "Well, for starters you could send your renewal application in before it's overdue, thus avoiding all this panting and using of my office space." I know, I'm an asshole, but don't come into my office asking for my help taking up my fucking time, and then when I try to help you with this situation you got yourself into that I know nothing about, give me the frowns because I can't bail you out. Welcome to the real world, where you pay the consequences for letting this kind of shit happen. This is not college anymore, I'm not running a daycare, and neither are the AA's in this office. I pray thee, get the fuck out.

Then this oldass volunteer comes in. Volunteers are, on a grand scale, slow to the point of having a handicap. That's why they volunteer, because no one would pay their ass to do anydamnthing, becuase it could be done quicker and cheaper by a trained flea circus. Anyways, she wants to know if she can take an inservice to renew her clinical license that probably lapsed sometime after the late pleistocene. She's so freaking old that her mind has gone, because she obviously thinks this is still where Human Resources is located. HR moved across the street two years ago people. Two years, let it go. So she asks her dumbass question and I basically tell her I have no fucking clue how to help her, that maybe she should fucking try HR. Ma'am. She replies as slow as her age-addled mind can muster, "O h, w h e r e t h e o l d g r o c e r y s t o r e u s e d t o b e?" Sure, whatever you say lady. You're two steps away from pushing a shopping cart full of someone else's garbage down the street and mumbling to your imaginary friends. I think it might be a little to late to consider a decision to re-enter the job market. It was the kind of day that just makes you want to slow down, take a deep satisfying breath, count to three, and yell "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFFFFIIIICE!!"

Blackmoth the Terriblest was just too cute and we've been trying to trick him into a repeat performance. Last night as we were tucking the boys into bed we finally just came out and asked him.

Lovely Wife: Goodnight Blackmoth.

Burger: I'm not Blackmoth.

Me: You were Blackmoth the other night.

Burger: No I wasn't.

Bacon: Yeah, no he isn't.

Me: Sure you were. With the Power Rangers sheet over your head...remember?

Lovely Wife: It was Aladdin sheets, actually.

Burger: No. Not me.

Me: You don't remember jumping into our room and yelling "I'm Blackmoth!"?

Burger: I'm not Blackmoth. I'm Burger.

Lovely Wife: Well you were pretending to be Blackmoth.

Burger: No. Not me. I'm not Blackmoth.

And then it hit me. Of course he won't admit to being Blackmoth! He's in his cover identity of Burger Peacock. Only his closest and darkest associates and henchmen (aka Bacon) are permitted to know that Burger, unassuming neighborhood kid, is actually Blackmoth the Terriblest, nefarious watcher of Nick at Night.

He's good. Oh, he's real good.

The boys are allowed to watch TV before they go to bed. The objective here is some quiet relaxation time so we're not pouring wired up kids into their beds with instructions to fall asleep. The caveat is that their selection is pretty limited. Channels like Discovery, Animal Planet and The History Channel are allowed. Their favorite channels (Nick, Cartoon Network) are not. The nighttime programming on those two is simply not acceptable for little kids.

Sometimes it works well, other times not quite. Lately they've been using quiet relaxation time for ninja fights and trampoline contests on the bed. When the noise level creeps up to levels noticeable to the fascist regulators (that's us) the TV goes off and they are put straight to bed. This has been happening with greater frequency of late so is high in our minds as bedtime approaches.

The other night as the boys are cleaning up their rooms in preparation for turning in, Lovely Wife and I were in our room making our bed. Bear walked in with a request.

Well, the fiancee and I have officially scrapped all our plans for the wedding. We had begun to plan this event so that it would be an above par affair. We didn't want our guests to be disappointed after travelling from far and wide, only to show up at some average ho-hum todo. We wanted them to be happy they came, grateful that at least they hiked all that way for a little friggin ambiance.

Let me tell you how much of a pain that was. It was emotionally grinding us both against eachother, like a pistil and mortar making a fine pumice of our lives. We would argue about details we discovered neither one cared about. We would worry about saving the money up, what would we do if disaster struck? Could we take money from the wedding fund? She was working two jobs, I was working and going to grad school, she starts hers in August. We were juggling a million flaming bowling pins and we really only cared about six of them. Okay, maybe seven. Point is, we weren't planning our wedding; we were planning a wedding for our guests.

Over the 4th of July weekend, one of the family relatives offered twice to basically cater our reception at cost. We shrugged it off politiely not wanting to impose. We got home and discussed the option. It actually came out that doing something like that would be typical 'us.' We're pretty laidback, low-maintenance people when it comes to partying. The stress relief and down home feel was beginning to appeal to us.

Then my parents offered us their house to hold the reception. We were sold. We haven't argued about wedding details in a week, many times the interval we were before. We realize that it's not going to be the standard formal affair, but we know it's going to be hella fun. Besides, neither one of us is really interested in standards anyways. Now we can invite as many people as we want, without having to worry if we can afford another $20 a head to feed them. We don't have to worry about being out of some fancy shmancy reception hall in four hours, we can stay and party until everyone falls out. It's kind of weird, because at first we started out really wanting to do it up, thinking that a good time meant spending lots of money. Now it's going to be something completely different, and completely reflective of who we are.

The best part about it, is if someone doesn't like it, I'll know they never really liked me. Which is okay, because when we start lighting the fireworks, we're gonna need a target.

Trey posted his opinion on smoking bans. He just happened to post pretty much the exact thing that I was working on for a post. But being the resilient and dynamic writer that I am I will shift to another topic with the grace and agility of a ballet dancer. An incredibly well hung and hairy chested ballet dancer, I might add.

Cell phone use while driving. It's evil incarnate. It's dangerous. It causes accidents. Cell phones kill!

Fortunately, the Georgia Assembly is considering just how they are going to word a law that will make it illegal to use cell phones while driving unless you use a hands-free set. The people who are pushing for a law against cell phones aren't happy. This law isn't strict enough. You see, they want a complete ban on using cell phones while driving. They say that it isn't the act of holding a phone that distracts a driver, it is the attention he* pays to the conversation.

A complete ban on cell phones in cars just doesn't go far enough. We also need to make a law against talking to the driver. If a conversation on a phone is so distracting how could anybody argue that a conversation with the person next to you isn't? Maybe we can mandate that each new car has a sticker like the ones on busses: "Do not speak to driver while vehicle is in motion."

Jen is just around the corner from her 200,000th visitor. Go say "Hi"* and click on a BlogAd while you're there.

* "Yo", "Hey there" and "Wazzzup!" are also acceptable.

You know, I'd rather be dead than be stupid. Stupid people are killing us, literally dragging us down. And I'm not talking about a socially stratified definition of stupid. I mean, I go to fucking grad school with people of all ages that I would consider to be complete fucking morons. And you know who you are!

I know people who know nothing but farming who're smarter than some of the fuckheads I work with. The sad part is that these idiot co-workers of mine think they've earned a place in academia. Fuck. You know, if I wasn't afraid of getting sued, I'd record audio from some of these numbnuts that qualified as graduate students and post it up here for all to see. There's this one fucknut who's got the IQ of a bushel of radishes. He's fucking RETARDED.

His stupidity is so....it... causes me so much stress that I can't think about anything except Gallagher and how much fun he had smashing watermelons with that fucking 20lb mallet. This guy is that big of an IDIOT. And it's not just me; just so you know. There's women old enough to be my mother in this MBA program, and even they express a yearning for the Gallagher mallet. That's when I KNOW you're officially a fucktard; when I'm not the only person who wants you dead.

Really though; the motherfuckin' icing on this shitcake is that this guy got a degree from a nationally recognized university. I'm talking about a college that has a stellar academic and athletic program. If I said the name, you people would be astounded. SLACK-JAWED even. And yet somehow this choad-for-brains managed to graduate and end up polluting MY fucking grad program! Jesus. Jesus fucking Mary and God for fucking saken Joseph. Yes. He is that stupid. Where the fuck do we find these people? Is the state running out of funding so much so that we have to let these retards into the colleges to get state income from their tuition?? STOP THE MADNESS!!!!

So, the Islamists really did a number this time in London hey? Speaking of numbers, which they seem so fascinated with, how 'bout these numbers. July 7th, 1940 was the day Hitler chose to begin his London Blitz. I'm sure those cheeky fucks sat aroung their Afghan cave chuckling to eachother about the irony of the day they chose to inflict terror on the British people.

Well, you friggin knuckleheads, in your effort to be all...numerical and cipher-oriented and shit, you forgot one thing about history in general. It tends to repeat itslef and if memory serves, London couldn't be broken by the barrage the Luftwaft unleashed on them, so I seriously fucking doubt a few mujihadeen with Jansports full of pipe bombs is going to bring a people like that to their knees. Even the IRA, after thirty years of bombing, has decided to take a more diplomatic route.

Furthermore, these British people are crazy. Maybe you guys haven't ever heard of rugby, but it's kind of a cross between ice hockey and boxing, but without all the pansy-ass pads and gloves. And these people do that for fun. You thought it sucked when the US started bombing your ass into the stone age, wait 'til the fucking Manchester United fans get a hold of you. I once partied with some of them after a soccer match, and they had a glass-eating contest. Two guys would face off, slam their pints, smash the glass on the other's forehead and eat the shards that were stuck in his dome. First one to clean his plate gets a free round. And that was after a winning match mind you. I'm telling ya, they're nuts. Good luck with that.

We have flags flying at my house. Until very recently we had two "porch sized" ensigns at the front of our house. Some people think that's an excessive display of patriotism, flag waving and/or a sign of rampant Republicanism. Y'all know me well enough to figure that I don't give much of a fuck about that. I like the flag, I respect it, I am proud to fly it in front of my house and I fully and completely believe that excess is good.

Anyway, we are down to one now as the other had achieved a tattered state. What to do? It was one of those all weather nylon types made to stay up and out for years at a time. I couldn't toss it in the garbage can. I wouldn't be comfortable thinking about it sitting inside a pile of refuse for a couple hundred years. Fortunately, precedent, custom and even law came to the rescue:

United States Code Title 4, Section 1, Item (k): The flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning.

I folded it up into the Widow's Triangle and we said the Pledge of Allegiance. Lovely Wife did a chorus of The Star Spangled Banner. Just the first bit of course, that sucker is murder on the voice. Then I put it in our burn barrel and we all dove aside to avoid the toxic fumes and spitting bits of molten plastic. It was a really nice moment and I think the kids picked up something from it.

Now our Congressmen, apparently lacking any real work to focus on, are busy making it possible for me to be arrested for doing this. H.J.Res. 10 changes the constitution to allow legislators to make flag burning a crime. A crime as in penalties, fines, jail time.

They've been trying to do this for a long, long time. It has been either ignored or struck down by the Senate every other year since 1995. Now they think that there are enough Senators willing to pass the amendment. They feel confident that enough states will ratify it as well. This is mainly because they will present it as protecting the flag and not as altering the constitution to remove a subset of our rights. They will most assuredly not make any sort of note to clarify that the actual actions that are being prohibited will be determined at a later date.

They couldn't pass laws against flag burning, because that violated constitutional protections.
They couldn't pass an amendment against flag burning because there is slightly too much sanity on The Hill.
So they went the back route. Make a generic amendment that creates a brand new set of illegalities possible and then pass laws on the state level to flesh them out.

I have two things to say to these vigilantes against sanity and freedom. First, keep your fucking hands off of my Constitution. Second, just fuck off period.

(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)

I spend some time each day surfing through Protein Wisdom, Daily Kos, Instapundit, and a few others just seeing what there is to see. A lot of the stuff is mildly interesting, and tends to bring things to the surface that I otherwise wouldn't know about. Sometimes I save the link so I can tracback to it and make a post of my own.

However, usually by the time I get home and have the spare time to write about whatever it was, I just don't give a shit anymore. I mean, it's probably just about some useless tactic some politician used to grab the spotlight for his issue, or make someone else look dumber than he did, or whip people into a sensational frenzy. So much of that stuff is complete bullshit anyways.

Then the goddamn bloggers get a hold of it and the issue is everywhere.

I mean, everyone and their mom has an opinion on it, everyone's fucking shouting over the din of the other 50 or 60 people on the thread, there's like six different arguments going on, three complete lunatics spouting shit just to get a rise, and I'm like fuck it. I can't possibly say anything that hasn't already been said, because there are 348 replies to that thread. Never mind that I think they're all fucktards, because one of those lunatics already tried that approach and got lambasted. They really are though. Fucktards I mean.

I hope what these politically oriented blogs are teaching us is that everyone has an opinion, even if they're a fucktard. You don't have to join a specific line of political argument, you can just vote how you want based on the issues, not just pick one guy because he's who the media likes. There's all kinds of information on the web out there. Just don't be a big enough fucktard to believe it all without researching it at least a little before acting on or voicing your opinion. And it's that right, nay privilege, to go on someone's website and act like a fucktard that makes America great!

Still crazy busy.

Interviewed two people so far for the PM position. One decent candidate, one very strong candidate. Position is still open as of now though so let me know if you're interested.

I was about finished with Medieval: Total War. My Spaniards were mopping up the last of the Egyptian rebels. Spain spanned across the width of Africa. We were eating paella in Cairo. It was a beautiful thing.

Then the gutless French bastards, my long-time allies I might add, launched a surprise attack on my northern province of Aragon. A quick redeployment of the African Expeditionary Force smashed them back into France but the bloody Pope told me to stop attacking their poor Catholic selves or face excommunication. With much grumbling the Spanish forces withdrew to Aragon.

But a short two turns later what should happen but the French got themselves excommunicated for their relentless assault upon the Brits. Woo hoo! Free for all time. Married off a daughter to the English crown, relaunched the attack into France and the Froggies have been folding between my hammer and William's anvil ever since. It's a beautiful thing.

I'm about 400 posts behind in my blog reading. Ouch.

I was over at Michele's today farting around and she posted a thread about the existence of God in a world filled with evil, how can God let it happen, blahblahblah.

I read through the comments and listened to what most of the people had to say, and there were some well thought out opinions there.

People go back and forth about God's seemingly interventionist nature, apparently discriminating between those worthy of life and those who's families can hanlde the tragedy of death.

One guy posted an excerpt from an interesting article on human suffering and the important lessons the experience of suffering teaches us.

But the whole thing leaves me wondering what the hell is so 'hopeless' about a worldview where God is absent? I mean, if the existence of evil is in some way proof of the existence of God, how could being without God be worse? Wouldn't it nullify the existence of evil? If God is Love, and people did as best they could to show love to eachother, then I say yes; a world without a supreme being would be filled with love if we as humans chose to be fucking nice to eachother more than once a year.

It's quite an interesting trip when I really start thinking about people, and how we see our world. It seems that most of us go through life without ever really thinking about the how the other six or so billion people in this world have lives that are just as important, happy, stressful, and exciting as our own. We hardly ever stop to consider the impact one tiny action of ours has on any of a myriad number of people we come in direct or indirect contact with. And everyone does it or has done it. I mean, when was the last time anyone thought to themseslves, "I wonder how this will effect the lives of others?", before they did something. Would that it happened several times a day.

That guy in Michele's post who killed the family while driving drunk; was most definitley not thinking about the other people in this world. At several points that evening, the driver could have opted not to show such disregard, but failed. The price this person, and unfortunately many others have to pay is the awareness that humans are capable of evil. Evil doesn't come from Hell or Satan. It comes from us choosing to be self-centered and ignorant and...well, generally prickish.

It's the stupid things in life that seem to come back to haunt us. Thinking we can get away with something just one more time and then shooting ourselves in the foot. I understand that being considerate won't eradicate suffering, nor do I think anything is capable of removing suffering from the human experience. But wouldn't it be nice if our suffering came from something we couldn't blame each other for? Wouldn't it be nice if suffering was merely a natural condition predicated by disease or freak accidents? Or maybe, this evil that results from humans is naturally predicated in that it is resultant of human behavior. A natural stimuli of it's own.

So the trip to Georgia was quite that. The place I went to is so small, that I couldn't mapquest it. So I googled it, and discovered that it's consistently mispelled, went back to mapquest and was able to locate it under its mispelled name. Ha!

The town has a population of 402, and no traffic lights. I take that back - there's a blinking yellow light somewhere on the main state road running through town. There's one store (a quick mart of some type), an elementary school, and a Methodist church. That's it man - nothing else. I have no fucking clue what those 402 people do to support themselves because there's no mechanics, repairmen, tradesmen, shops, retailers, industry, or any goddamn thing there. I figure they must take welfare checks or something.

Couldn't get cellphone reception out there either. Not that I was expecting a call or anything, but with that fucking dusche running around TV asking "Can ya hear me now? How 'bout now?", acting like you can get cell reception all over the place; you'd think they'd be able to follow through. If I ever see that prick out and about I'm shoving that phone in his ass and shouting "How 'bout now bitch!"

Pumped my great uncle for info on the war. Not interested necesarily in the history, just think primary sources are absolutley amazing. And for a guy who's eighty some-odd years old, that mofo can ratchet-jaw all day long. I mean, I asked him about the war, and three hours later I came out of my trance and he was still talking about how he and his buddies would weasel out of 20-mile radius vacation leave.

And just in case someone is planning to make Screven County, Georgia a vacation destination anytime soon I have a few pieces of advice. Firstly, bring something to do, because there ain't jack shit to do unless you enjoy watching grass grow. I mean, even if you wanted to do something, you couldn't because you're so far away from everything that it would take you five hours just to drive somewhere where there was something to do. Second, bring bug spray. And by that I mean call Orkin and have them hook you up with whatever they have in the way of immunizations, because the mosquitoes are so damn big they can screw chickens standing flat-footed. I saw the shit, but couldn't get the digicam in time.

And finally, I need to impart some knowledge I gained while on vacation. This is important too, so pay attention. Dogs can eat chocolate. Everyone always says not to let the dog eat chocolate because apparently it makes their hearts explode or some shit. This weekend, my cousin's lab mix knocked a two-layer double chocolate cake off the buffet table, and ate more than half of that son of a bitch. That dog ate more cake than I could eat in one sitting, and took it like a champ. Fuck, I bet there's a majority of people out there that couldn't eat as much chocolate as this dog did without getting sick. The fucker didn't barf, moan, or anything. Matter of fact, I think she took a nap. We weren't even in the house when she did it, so she had the opportunity to eat as much of that cake as she possibly could. Amazing.

...but I call it an opportunity to hand out some Snooze Points. I've made three changes at my own neglected blog, Publius & Co.. If you can tell me what the changes are, in the comments here at SBD, you will receive one Snooze Point for each change you point out.

Given: Home improvements are an investment.

Given: Investments are money.

Given: Momma always say to put your money away for a rainy day.

Ergo: You should only paint the house if it's raining.

The fact that you can't paint your house if it is raining is just a side benefit.

Driving down to Georgia for the 4th. My grandmother grew up in a tiny farmhouse in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere near the South Carolina border. When her mom died, her brother kept the house. About ten years ago, my dad's cousin bought the house right next to it. We've been having 4th of July get togethers there for longer than I or my parents have been alive.

It's an abnormal place. The town is too small for a traffic light, a grocery store, or even a McDonald's; but it has it's own cemetery. The forecast is mid 90's and humid, with a 20-30% chance of a thunderstorm everyday. There's not much to do in the modern sense of the phrase; but I do plan on seeing if I can milk a few odd stories from some of the old folks.

I like old people. They're the best kind of historians - primary sources with personal bias.

We've got to drive through South Carolina, the Mecca of imported explosives, to get there. I plan on spending a good one or two hundred bucks on the good stuff that's illegal at home and in Georgia. Hey, blowing stuff up is a human past time. Thinking of taking the camera along and doing some kind of montage when I get back. Huzzah bitches!