Musings from Brian J. Noggle
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
 
And Two Minutes for Charging

A tragic accident occurred in Atlanta. A promising young hockey player, just a year or so removed from Rookie of the Year and scoring a bucket of goals in the All Star Game, runs his Ferrari into a wall at 80 mph. It's not as tragic as it could have been; he's only got a broken jaw, but his passenger is in critical condition with a fractured skull. They're lucky to be alive, and with any luck they'll remain so.

But here come the prosecutors....
    Atlanta Thrashers star Dany Heatley was charged Tuesday with reckless driving for veering off a road and slamming his sportscar into a wall at about 80 mph -- a crash that left him with a broken jaw and teammate Dan Snyder critically injured with a skull fracture.

    Heatley was also charged with serious injury by vehicle, a felony, and three other misdemeanors -- driving too fast for conditions, driving on the wrong side of the road and striking a fixed object, according to the police.

Striking a fixed object?

Once again, the legislators in their attempts to do something! about crime have given prosecutors bolts of felonies and swatches of misdemeanors to properly accessorize every ill event. Instead of double jeopardy, we have a larger charge accompanied by an exploded view of its component parts. Common sense would indicate that reckless driving comprises driving too fast, leaving your lane, changing lanes without use of the directional signal, and then striking a fixed object, or maybe just narrowly avoiding a fixed object which is a undoubtedly a lesser charge. But before the myopic eyes of the law, these are all crimes in and of themselves.

Kind of like when an estranged husband shoots his wife and gets murder one, using a gun in the commission of a murder, using bullets in the commission of a felony, disturbing the peace, and failure to pay future child support. Slap enough coats of felony on anything, and it will look guilty.

So in addition to having to live with the emotional consequences of his actions, Heatley's now eligible for a Gordie Howe length career in the penal hockey league. Prosecutors will say that these tough laws will make kids think twice about believing they're immortal and driving fast. Because kids have already discounted their own deaths and the crippled and crushed bodies of their friends and have have dismissed the deterent within those threats; a couple years in jail? That's real to the young.

Criminey, the first person to run for office with the stated goal of eliminating three quarters of our redundant and superfluous laws earns my indentured servitude. I am getting tired of having my personal attorney preceding me everywhere and identifying each and every infraction I might commit and running the complex multiplication necessary to determine my total sentence if I jaywalk and cross outside a designated crosswalk at the same time while walking an unlicensed bike.

Monday, September 29, 2003
 
A Toast



To the Chicago Bears, for keeping up your end of a noble tradition and losing gracefully to the Packers.

You guys played your guts out. Unfortunately, you didn't have many with which to start.

Sorry, Pejman, but it was foreordained.

Sunday, September 28, 2003
 
Die Hard

John McClane says:
    If you catch him, just give me four seconds with Saddam Hussein.
(Link from Right We Are, who seem to not realize I have them on my blog roll.)

(Speaking of John McClane, what could he do on a Deathstar? A question only a geek would speculate.)

(Also speaking of John McClane, Die Hard IV? Oh, baby!)

 
Book Review: Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

No, I have nothing better to do than to read Russian short novels, which run about 150 pages of translated, well, Russian writing. And I don't just mean the Russian language.

Notes from the Underground starts out with a 20-30 page commentary on the nature of man, at least as perceived by a Russian narrator, or more to the point, a Dostoyevsky narrator. John Galt's speech, it ain't. This particular narrator breaks down the fourth wall, so to speak, and addresses the reader of his notes directly and patiently builds a case that madness really is the only possible way to defend free will. For if scientists can eventually describe the means by which each man and woman will act in his or her own preceived self-interest in each situation, the outcome is always predetermined by the individual, the perceptions, and the situation. So madness would be the only random number generator (my words, not Underground Man's and not Dostoyevsky's nor his translator's).

I can see how this appeals to college students. On the other hand, I am no longer a college student, so I have little time to sit around saying, "Whoa." Nor am I driven any longer to explain the use of the first part of the novel as a means of discrediting the double-effect narrator who then goes on to rationalize his particular Soren-Loves-Regina, Soren-Spurns-Regina (that's Kierkegaard, you damn kids!) episode. Fortunately, though, I don't have to write those sorts of papers any more, and I don't have to feel guilty for wishing there was just one double homicide with a missing witness that the hero, a down-on-his-luck former police officer turned security guard (with Kirk Guard, maybe) must track down. But I would settle for some narration for crying out loud. Maybe a plot, Fyod?

Part 2, the second movement of the novel, takes us into an example of the narrator's boorishness. As if the first half of the novel didn't. The second part has other characters, to whom the narrator can act as a boor, and then the narrator ends up in bed with a prostitute he might love, but to whom he must be a boor and then whom he ultimately rejects so he can pursue his scholarly life, which seems to be perfecting the art of boorishness. Personally, I only made it through the thing because I'd read Crime and Punishment previously, so I wasn't sure whether this guy would snap and kill his former classmates, his man, or the prostitute. Maybe two of them at once, and then the cobbler on the corner would see it and flee to a retreat on the Caspian Sea..... Never mind.

With this book, I think Dostoyevsky's making fun of academics, but the ultimate irony is that only academics read this mockery of academics.

I spent over a week trudging through this short novel. I've gotten the satisfaction of having read something normal suburban types in middle America don't read, so I flout the stereotype laid upon us by academics. I wouldn't recommend it as a read for everyone, though, unless you want to severely put off your friendly informal book club by recommending it and then cribbing some of the lines from this piece (think it over, El Rojo).

 
Any Man Who Quotes P.J. O'Rourke Is a Wise Man

Robert Prather quotes P.J. O'Rourke. One more reason to visit Insults Unpunished.

Saturday, September 27, 2003
 
Eminent Domain Abuse on 60 Minutes

Reason magazine's Hit and Run reports that the television news magazine 60 Minutes is going to run a piece about eminent domain abuse.

Reason also ran a story called " Wrecking Property Rights: How cities use eminent domain to seize property for private developers".

As some of you know, eminent domain abuse is one of the particular pet peeves of mine. So go read these pieces and arm yourselves for when your municipality comes for your house for a strip mall.


 
Maintaining Proper Tequila Quality Assurance

Tightly Wound / Big Arm Woman discusses the United States / Mexico trade dispute over tequila, and she correctly describes tequila:
    It is designed to be drunk as quickly as possible, and to have its taste completely obscured by combinations of salt and lime. Tequila is anti-freeze with a twist.
Perhaps a twist would improve Mexican beer. Perhaps a twist of habanero could cover it up.

 
Heather's Conversion Progresses

I suckered my beautiful wife into going to Borders today so I could acquire a copy of Virginia Postrel's The Substance of Style (and hey, look, it's right next to Robert Putnam's Bowling Alone, I'll take one of those, too!).

Where what to my wondering-if-I-can-snag-another-book-before-Heather-finds-me eyes appear, but Heather (which meant I could not snag another book that I needed to put on my to-read shelves until 2012 or thereabout). And she's carrying Laura Ingraham's Shut Up and Sing.

"You've got a book by Laura Ingraham!" I said.

"Who's she?" Heather asked. I could not explain to her that we conservatarian men have a special Hot Conservative Chick Sense that tingles to identify attractive women who think right. I mean, sure, sometimes we get false positives (like Ann Coulter--someone feed that woman, I think she's going mad from hunger), but for the most part, we're dead on.

Or maybe I heard her Ingraham's radio show once.

Still, Heather bought a conservative screed on her own!

 
I Link To Wesley Crusher

Wil Wheaton tells a beer joke.

(Link also seen on Fark.)

 
Now You Know, But Do You Understand?

This is Devon answers a burning question:

WHY IS GUINNESS BLACK YET THE BUBBLES THAT SETTLE ON TOP, WHICH ARE MADE OF THE SAME STUFF, ARE WHITE?

Underneath the scientific terminology, essentially the answer is because Guinness is so yummy.

(Link seen on Fark.)

Friday, September 26, 2003
 
More Corporate Tax Breaks to Help Ease Those Pesky Budget Surpluses

Some group called the Multistate Tax Commission has issued a report saying that Internet Service Providers should shed some of their tax burden. Hey, I'm all for lower taxes, but I'm a little worried when they start given little perks to some industries, because then the next one wants one, and suddenly my sales tax is at 20% and my property taxes are about 10% annually. Flat tax the corporations on their profits, but let's not have our governments play favorites.

More troubling, though, is this from the mouths of the aristocracy:
    "State and local governments understand that consumers need to get Internet access," Tennessee Revenue Commissioner Loren Chumley said in a telephone news conference announcing the study. "The bill that was passed goes far beyond that. It has the potential to wipe out all telecommunications-related tax levies." [Emphasis mine.]
Any time our Illuminated Leaders start babbling on about what luxuries consumers need, I tremble, for I see the future growth of the Great Society, paid for by....the taxed consumers!

Let no Child be without Broadband!

Rubbish! Now get back to work.

 
Spherewide Short Story Symposium

Go read some short fiction. It's good for you.

 
Even More Signs You're Getting Old

If you're a newspaper columnist like Neil Steinberg, you muse on how long you have been married, had children, and have lived in the suburbs.

If you're a newspaper columnist's fan, you think, has it been three years already since he moved out of Chicago?

I need to start measuring my life in more meaningful units. Like meaningful relationships between characters in Friends. Oops, too late.

 
Old School Geeks Rejoice

Dr. Who is really coming back this time.

You damn Matrix-loving, Zelda-playing (instead of Dungeons and Dragons on the kitchen table as the geek gods intended) kids don't even know what I am talking about. Go write your Java, your .Net, and play command line guru on Linux, and leave the heavy duty geekin' to your betters.

Colin Baker rox. I'll lick any man who says Tom Baker was better.

(Link seen on Samizdata, whose location in Britain has saved them from a lickin'.)

Thursday, September 25, 2003
 
Anarchy is Hiring

Halfway down the page, we've got this important bulletin:
    Police seek public help in stabbing, robbery
Not really my skill set, but when there's an opening in the shooting or vandalism, I'll send in a resume.

 
Andrew Sullivan Is A Bigger Man Than I

This morning, he excerpts some blather from Harper's magazine.

Thanks for taking one for the team, Andrew, and performing vital reconnaissance into what Lewey Lapnut's found to print this month. Everyone knows I don't have the stomach for it any more.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003
 
Detroit Was Last Night

Want to get away?

Sorry, recycling old Southwest Airlines commercials for you. Really, it couldn't happen to a nicer psychotic North American than Alanis Morrisette, who's apparently reduced to playing the Andean circuit these days.

 
The Noggle Library

I indicated in a previous post, one of the next things we'll need for Honormoor's replacement (that's the name of the Noggle manor, donchaknow?) is a library. Why, you ask? Let's take a look.

Brian's Main Library
These three bookcases are double-stacked with hardbacks and trade paperbacks. I'll be honest, though, the bookcase on the right contains the unread portion of my library. Unfortunately, it contains a lot of scholarly work, like Jean-Paul Sartre, Simon De Beaviour, Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, and other assorted literary figures (as well as Tolkien, sorry) and a pile of nonfiction. Whenever I get a new genre piece, I tend to read it before these masterworks, which would explain why some of these things have gone unread for a decade. But I am working on it.

The left bookcase contains what used to be my altar for the authors Robert B. Parker and Ayn Rand, but the space crunch has led me to start double stacking before even them.

Also, please note that these are my books, not Heather's. I consider each book I have read a trophy, so I get agitated whenever she puts a book on my shelves and dilutes my pride.
Brian's Reference Library
These two bookshelves have my reference library, which includes books on computers, electronics, home repair, and writing. The bookshelves are in my office, which wouldn't seem to make sense--until you realize that's where I go to hide when there's any work to be done.
Brian's Nightstand
I've started these books, but haven't finished them, yet. Watch for a book review of that book on the origins of the English civil war coming soon, though.

Is that a book by Victor David Hanson under the complete works of Shakespeare? Yes. And I'll probably finish it before the Shakespeare, too. Expect the reviews by 2010.
Our Mass-Market Paperbacks
Here's the closest Heather's and my books come to conmingling. The shelf on the right is mass market paperbacks I have read, and the one on the left is Heather's.

Of course, this is the total except for the two or three boxes we've not opened since we moved into Honormoor three years ago. One more reason for a library: we're running out of room for bookshelves in our existing domicile.
Heather's Hardbacks
Heather's got her own collection of hardbacks, but she's only got a single bookshelf. I attribute this to the fact that her boyfriend/fiance was not kind enough to give her a new set of bookshelves for Christmas each year of their relationship.

Hey, check out the rare quadraped Jawa without the cloak. Obviously, this cohabitant of the household could never count as a cat in the Casinoport accounting.
Heather's Kitchen Stash
Heather has a bookshelf in the kitchen dedicated to:
  • Cookbooks.
  • Rhetoric textbooks (for mastering dinner conversation, of course)
  • Cat care books (not because we eat cats, but hopefully so we can learn their psychology and keep them off the table when we're trying to converse at dinner.
The Piano
Atop the piano, Heather stores a number of:
  • Music books.
  • Hymnals.
  • Cat care books.
  • Exercise books.
  • Library books which are months overdue.


So there you have it. Our motley collection of bookshelves aren't as cool as built-in shelves like Mr. or Mrs. du Toit got, but they ain't too shabby.

 
Noggle's Spurious Law IX

All right, kids, you want to know how you tell the sign of a good company when you're interviewing? Forget what any of the books tell you about how to judge a company during a job interview. Of course, it's easy for me to say, since I have never read a book about job interviews, but if I had, this wouldn't be a spurious law, would it?

To gauge what a company's employees think of it and the environment there, ask, no demand that one of the interview platoon take you to see the cafeteria or kitchenette or the little alcove where they have the coffeemaker. Of course, if they don't have a coffeepot, leave right away (unless you're Heather, of course).

The best places I have ever worked, at least in a white collar fashion, had clean breakrooms. Best job I ever had, the breakroom was spotless, but that's because my duty was to clean it, werd. But six dollars an hour doesn't support five four cats.

Coffee stains or dirty dishes on the counter can indicate a number of things, all of which are bad news for you, the new guy (or gal):
  • The saps working here are jacked up all the time and are too busy to wipe up after themselves. That means the company has too few resources for what it does, and you better not have any plans on Saturday.

  • The employees here delegate the cleaning up after themselves to, or worse yet assume it will be done by, underlings, ultimately the poor schmuck with only a community college degree who works afternoons to wipe out the bathrooms. If he's busy, buddy (or buddiette), guess who's going to be cleaning up after himself (herself) after he (she) brings the coffee to the important people? So, how long have you been here?

A clean kitchen indicates that the other employees are adults who can handle their own mistakes and spills, and that they're concerned with giving a good first impression to the venture capitalists, board members, vendors, customers, or other employees who might wander in after them. This is good.

Of course, it could mean they've read this entry and are attempting to subvert NogSub Law IX, but the odds are definitely with the former.

 
When is A not A?

I have received mail about my post yesterday about the high school sophomores in St. Peters who got busted for do-it-yourself porn. As of this posting, three boys have been charged with felonies; the girls, of course, get none.

Let me point out, hopefully more succinctly, the absurdity of the charges. Follow me here:
  1. Child porn laws touted as necessary protections for The Children who are not Smart Enough Or Responsible Enough (SEORE) to make their own decisions regarding sex and posing for photography therein. Never mind that The Children in this case are fifteen years old, three years short of the sudden burst from the maturity gland which will make them eligible to pose naked for anything they want.

  2. Although these "children" cannot make their own reasoned decisions about posing naked and being photographed, the law will now prosecute them as though they are smart enough and responsible enough to make their own decisions regarding sex and posing for photography therein.
!SEORE = SEORE

Do you have that moebius strip of logic firmly grasped yet? They are being prosecuted as adults for doing something from which they are being being protected from doing something they cannot decide to do because they're not adults.

It's all a part of the ride on the official United States Eight Ten Year Adolescence. Face it, between the years of 13 and 21 23, children begin to phase into adulthood, and society and its occasional-lackey-and-sometimes-master government are pretty slow to dole out the adult privileges and responsibilities, and when they do, they stagger the ages and make it as drawn out as possible.

Consider:
  • At 14 years old, if you shoot a person, you're tried as an adult
  • At 18 years old, if you get shot, you're statistically "A Child" for those who collect statistics to promote gun control.

  • Before you're 16 years old, you can get a job and start paying your taxes to support The Greatest Generation and the Baby Boomers in their pursuit of pharmaceutical immortality.
  • However, you have to wait until you're 18 years old to enter contracts.

  • At 16 years old, you're responsible enough to get a driver's license and should know enough not to pile a bunch of your friends into your dad's car, and go roaring around the streets until you collide with a retired schoolteacher on her way from the grocery and kill her and her nephew.
  • Glass of wine at dinner? Not for 5 more years, you irresponsible welp.

  • At 18 years old, you're responsible enough to handle explosives and automatic weapons.
  • However, concealed weapons will have to wait if you're from Missouri until the Eddie Eagle Epihany hits you on your 23rd birthday and you can then safely carry concealed weapons.
What's my proposed solution? At the 13th birthday, send each child into the Cave of the Mother Snake, where it must spend the night alone, without a Gameboy. In the morning, when the child emerges, it is an Adult. Drink responsibly, young man or young woman, and remember to use the booster seat when you're driving.

Also, vote for me.

Thank you.

 
Brutal Murder in Florida

The Onion has the exclusive: Idaville Detective 'Encyclopedia' Brown Found Dead in Library Dumpster.

    "The bitter irony is that Brown would have easily cracked a case like this one," Kimball-Brown said. "I just can't help but wonder: WHAT DID ENCYCLOPEDIA KNOW THAT WOULD HAVE HELPED HIM SOLVE HIS OWN MURDER?"


Tuesday, September 23, 2003
 
A Nice Place To Keep Sodas

While perusing America's Second Freedom, I've often encountered an ad from Browning touting its gun safes. How does it do so? By presenting the testimonial of Inmate #8390027, a.k.a. "Sledge": "When I get out, I'm getting a Browning safe."

Text of the ad indicates:
    Sledge is currently serving a seven to 15-year [sic] sentence for his fifth conviction for breaking and entering an occupied dwelling (he has plea bargained away over 20 other "B & Es" and admits that he has done more than he could count in his 13-year criminal career). In a letter to Browning written from his cell, Sledge freely admits, "My partner and I broke into hundreds of houses, many with so-called gun safes, and after we tried to get into a Browning gun safe, it was the last thing we ever wanted to see."

    In his letter, Sledge cites a previous advertisement for Browning gun safes under the headline, "The Competition Hates Our Guts." He responds, "Now that I see what goes into your safe, I see why I could never open one. The competition isn't the only one who hates your guts!" Sledge can't stay locked away forever. Isn't it nice to know your valuables can?
While I see Browning's goal with this article, which is to say a convicted burglar/home invader knows a Browning gun safe is a good gun safe, but let's reiterate the eye-catching headline:

"WHEN I GET OUT, I'M GETTING A BROWNING SAFE."

Class, discuss the reasons that Mr. Sledge would own a gun safe. Would it be:
  • A safe place in which he, a convicted felon, could store weapons that he possessed illegally since he is prohibited from owning guns.

  • A good way to practice breaking into Browning gun safes.

  • A cool, dry place to store sodas.
Apparently Browning must think it was the last option.

 
Protecting The Children from, Well, The Children

In a story certain to not shock anyone with the faintest memory of being young and hormonal and not suffering from the slightest repressed-guilt-turned-into-outrage, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reports:
    A group of 15-year-olds from a St. Peters high school who made a video showing two girls kissing and a naked girl being touched by two boys are facing child pornography charges.
All consensual among the fifteen year olds, but guess what? They're facing child pornography charges! Of course. They'd be safe from statutatory rape charges if they'd limited themselves to copulation, but record it and wham! It's a crime.

So they're doing what curious and, let's face it, unconstrained (whether by parents or morals) digital kids do, which is namely a little I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours, with the optional "see-like-a-blind-person" rule in effect.

    Three have been referrred to juvenile court on charges of promoting child pornography, furnishing pornographic materials to a minor and promoting a sexual performance by a child. The other four are still underinvestigation and may be charged, police say.

    "They did the act, they knew what they were doing, and they knew it was wrong," said St. Peters Sgt. David Kuppler. "You can't film a 15-year-old child nude no matter what age you are. It's the same standard we would hold an adult to, it's just the juvenile justice standard."
Now the system's going to brand them as sexual offenders, put their names on the Internet for the rest of their lives, and some suburban prosecutor will be one heroic step closer to governorship. That will protect and serve no one but... well, the government and its bit players hoping for named roles (instead of Municipal Assistant District Attorney #2, I will be David Justice, Avenger of the Oppressed!).

The kids all need a good swatting, without the cameras rolling, thank you. A good talking to, and a maybe bit of "Hold on for three years and you'll be a Vivid superstar, but from here out, you're wearing burlap." But jail time (reform school time, I mean, not as bad as jail except it is)?

It's a continuing shame that parents cannot discipline and their children and hence cannot trust other parents to discipline or train their own children. As part of this abdictation, the only alternative lazy or immoral parents can turn to is the heavy hand of Government, whose spanking hand is numb and unfeeling from overuse and whom the punishment is not hurting as much as it is hurting us.

 
More Signs You're Getting Old

Here's a list of more signs you're getting old.

I have to wonder the real age of the person who wrote this, though, because it seems hollow, as though it was compiled by a damn kid writing for us old people. Some points:
  • Your computer's ready-mode was a black screen with a single curser.
    There's still just a single curser sitting at my computer. Me. Actually, my first computer's ready screen was blue and grey. Viva la Commodore!

  • And you thought it [the Pong arcade game] had the most advanced graphics imaginable.
    Look here, boy, Pong did have the most advanced graphics.

  • AOL was just another start-up online service that could easily have lost out to rivals called Compuserve and Prodigy.
    Son, back in the day, we had Quantum Link, Delphi, and bulletin boards. AOL is a 1990s late bloomer.

  • A 1-gig hard drive seemed as big as a warehouse. (Today, most are 40-times that.)
    Back in the day, the Lt. Kernal 1 Meg hard drive cost $1000, werd. I never had one.

  • Even though there are plenty of LPs in antiques stores, you still have 400 in your attic, because deep down, you still think the format will come back.
    Dude, you cannot sell records for any decent money. Last time I tried to sell an LP or 45 was in the early 1990s, and the used music shop wouldn't take them off my hands. So they're up there because they're worth more for the memories than the money. And who knows, one of these days we might find a working record player again, and when we do, it's gonna be a party!. Albeit a party where one has to pause the beer-drinking every couple of minutes to change or flip the record.
Now get offa my lawn!

 
Paranoia Shidoshi Recommends

Go read this post at Samizdata: A law-abiding person has nothing to hide?
    I was just thinking up a few scenarios in answer to the assertion that "a law abiding person has nothing to fear from ID cards, in-car tracking systems or surveillance cameras". These are some wholly or mostly law-abiding persons who do have something to fear:
You'll have to go to the source for the list.

Monday, September 22, 2003
 
Aren't They Cute?

Mrs. du Toit has put up a picture of she and Mr. du Toit's "children."

Sweet. Perhaps I'll have to interrupt my too-frequent, too-boring book reviewing schedule to put up a couple of photos of my double-stacked bookshelves for you all to ooh and ah over.

Three things the next house must have:
  • A library
  • A bar / video game room
  • A weight room
Living rooms and bedrooms? Optional!

Update: For means of comparison.

 
The Kangaroo Has A Master Plan At Work

The wise Tim Blair says:
    Kangaroos are friendly. Not like wombats; a wombat will leave you for dead every time.
Of course, he's linking to a story about a kangaroo tugging the Lassie grift and drawing attention to a farmer who'd been knocked senseless. The kangaroo might just have saved the farmer's life.

However, we here at RooWatch Central have covered this ground already. Beware the kangaroos.

Obviously, this Lulu character is up to something. Now Lulu is being lauded by Australians. Suddenly, she starts amassing wealth and then uses her popularity as a springboard for replacing John Howard, and suddenly, it's just like On The Beach (well, in that it's the end of the world, and it's set in Australia).

Someone better take care of Lulu before she gets access to Australia's nuclear arsenal or the Collingwood Magpies is all I am saying. Once she has the Bomb or a standing army, there will be no stopping her.

 
A Politician or a Leader?

John Kass of the Chicago Tribune knows the difference (but he'll only share it with you if you register, which you should):
    So the best thing the president could have done, politically, would have been to leave it all to the United Nations, to walk away while loudly declaring victory. That would have been the shrewd move.
You, Heather, and El Guapo, Cagey, and the Meatriarchy guy, go read the whole thing.

Show the Chicago Tribune Web servers what a musingtrickle feels like!

Sunday, September 21, 2003
 
Dr. Guapo and Dr. Noggle to Emergency, Please

Drudge links to a story wherein Germany faces its breweries getting sold to multinationals who promise to retain the good German name even if they water down the contents to bolster multinational profit.

Hey, I am from Milwaukee. I know how that feels.

The article also says that German beer consumption is declining. Emergency, El Guapo! We must redouble our efforts to support the industry! Only Harfestivus can save them now!

Although I must admit I find most German beers to salty for my taste. I will, however, continue to prop up American, Irish, British, and Canadian brewers to the best of my ability.

You have my word on that.

 
I Feel Pretty. And Mysterious.

Suburban Blight has led me to some introspection, where I learn that not only am I beautiful in my strength, I am also:

Hecate
Hecate

?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla


I notice a trend developing here.

 
Thank You for the Head's Up

Alert reader "Martin Simmons" (I assume he's a reader, since I got this message in my Hotmail box which I make available for you, gentle readers) sends me this warning:
    From : "Martin Simmons"
    To : stlbrianj@hotmail.com
    Subject : Stlbrian j - Porn found on YOUR computer! Date : Sun, 21 Sep 2003 03:43:36

    MIME-Version: 1.0
    Received: from ([67.167.16.201]) by mc5-f10.hotmail.com with Microsoft SMTPSVC(5.0.2195.5600); Sun, 21 Sep 2003 03:38:39 -0700
    X-Message-Info: JGTYoYF78jEmAVs0XODqK3fTx/8P7QHe
    X-Message-Info: ALYqAGt3oIELxgQxtYO3XDTcnoQ7gxpN1lk7V
    X-Message-Info: lcOMLY2qAGOtx3wIEXLgQ5tcYa3DTnQ5gzpl1A5
    Message-Id: <20030921433636.hD5lb9HMWuZjMe@>
    Return-Path: gpdqzcl@canada.com
    X-OriginalArrivalTime: 21 Sep 2003 10:38:39.0772 (UTC) FILETIME=[852CADC0:01C3802C]

    zvEach web site you SEE is STORED ON YOUR COMPUTER!pgsgt
    mchkvCleaning Cache or History DOES NOT stop snooping!snx
    syjxsPROTECT YOUR PC - DO IT INSTANTLYpcnbj
Thanks for the warning, buddy. I'm sorry I didn't reproduce your link for my readers, where undoubtedly they could click to replace their porn with your Trojan Horse, but you'll probably get enough zombies out of your mailing to make it worth your time without any of us.

Also, please note that I don't want to get rid of the porn on my computer. It's taken me a long time to collect what I have, and it's schnucking hard to find good hot girl-dressed-as-a-clown-on-cypress photos anyway. Who knows when I would get a chance to replace them?

Saturday, September 20, 2003
 
Splurging Glurge

MSNBC is running a story entitled "What $87 Billion Buys: Instead of a war in Iraq, here’s what America could be getting for its money". In this remarkable (as I am remarking on't, werd) piece (of something), the author puts together a list of bullet points that describe things the government could do with $87 billion dollars instead of spending it rebuilding Iraq. In between lists, he inserts some snarky quotes by grabby people who haven't quite gotten their hands full of your money on their pet projects yet.

Basically, Jonathan Darman, author of this Web Exclusive! says the United States Government could, and should, take that $87 billion dollars and:
  • Hire millions more bureaucrats which would then need $87 billion dollars plus cost of living adjustments every year from this day forward, or

  • Pour millions into the budgets of petty bureaucracies, who know they have to spend the money if they want to get it next year, which again means $87 billion dollars a year plus 8- or 10-percent annual increases forever.

The author of the piece obviously attended the remedial mathematical classes required to get a Poli-Sci degree along with our distinguished Congresspeople who have the motto if we have a dollar, we should rent something that costs a dollar a month forever.

(Link seen on Little Green Footballs.)

 
It's Called Synergy



At first it might look of accidental chocolate in the peanut butter, but I think Centene Corporation is onto something here. I mean, it's a fringe benefit to the employees that the Centene will take care of their children while the employees work, Centene reduces mail distribution costs by using child labor, and the children learn that life is drudgerous work punctuated by meals and cadaverous sleep to almost refresh one's self for another day of futile, Sisyphean endeavours. No matter how much mail you sort for distribution, the mailman postal carrier's going to bring more tomorrow.

Win-win-win!

Friday, September 19, 2003
 
Book Review: Britain's Kings and Queens: 63 Reigns in 1100 Years
by Sir George Bellew, K.C.V.O.


Well, friends, I have stooped to a new low, lower than the previous new low and probably not quite as low as what I shall attain tomorrow, but nevertheless, I am going to review a schnucking pamphlet for you today. The title of the pamphlet is Britain's Kings and Queens: 63 Reigns in 1100 Years by Sir George Bellew, K.C.V.O. It's a pamphlet because it's 32 pages long, and I snuck it into my reading as a nonfiction entry while I slog through Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky in an omnibus paperback that includes two other short-but-tedious Russian novels (although they beat the regular-sized-but-tedious Russian novels). So pity me whatever affliction I have that drives me to read Dostoyevsky without an impending final, and just hear what I have to say about the short book I did read.

The edition I read, in its unknown softcover binding, was published in 1968, 15 years after Queen Elizabeth II ascended the throne, but the whole thing's an explication of the line of royalty in Britain, who they were, and why Liz II was going to be a great ruler.

All right, I shouldn't go dumping royalty in the harbor with the tea, but the tone of the book is adulatory. It seeks to connect Elizabeth II with her ancestors and to shine a light on, or perhaps reflect the monarch's own light, upon the history that legitimized the monarch.

After a brief forward, the book goes into brief capsules of monarchs starting with Egbert and on through the Saxon kings, William the Conqueror, the Tudors, the Stuarts, and on and on. Each monarch gets a couple of paragraphs, more if they're remembered fondly.

They have to be brief. After all, only the even pages contain the biographies. The odd pages contain asides, photographs of Elizabeth II's coronation, royal portraits, and other sundry trivia. You've heard the expression The Crown Jewels, haven't you? Well, I know all four pieces of the regalia because they're listed on page 7. I won't mention them here because it will ruin the impact when I suddenly uncork that bit of trivia in a conversation.

So it's not a bad little treatise. For its size, it makes a handy reference guide for those who might someday write something about a monarch. Hey, Shakespeare wrote his body of plays with a similar, albeit more fleshed out, history. So if you can nab one of those two dollar copies on an auction site, it might be worth it for you.

It'll be more than worth it if you can correct me at some future date about the order of English monarchs or the dates of their reigns.

Thursday, September 18, 2003
 
Fad? It's a Life Style!

This evening, I proved my contemporary nature to impress my wife by participating in a faddish flash mob.

Tonight, at 5:24 pm, I joined a group of strangers whom I have never met before, and we came together on Interstate 270 just north of Dougherty Ferry Road in St. Louis County, and together we stopped our cars for no reason and sat there listening to the radio.

After two minutes of immobility, for no reason whatsoever, we started driving again.

I am hep, dig?

 
First One's Kinda Bad, But The Rest Taste Better

Electric Venom's got a post on caffeinated sausages in Germany. To sum up:
    But "How does it taste?" you ask?

    Dude, it keeps you awake longer so you can have more beer. Does it matter how it tastes?
But it's more German beer.

Tonight I am drinking Peroni, whose very literature reminds us that it's beer made by American ally. Werd. And you know, after a couple, they don't taste too bad.

 
Gratuitous Linking Is Not Working

Undoubtedly, some of you have noticed how I have often linked, often gratuitously, to Instapundit in my posts. For no apparent reason, some posts include the www.instapundit.com URL in them.

I admit I was trying to use you, dear reader, in my own foolish drive for recognition, or at least a perfunctory glance from Professor Reynolds. You see, I hoped you might see that link and click it, which would put my own URL briefly in the referrer logs at Instapundit.

If enough you visited that site, perhaps He would see my URL in the referrer logs and would pop by. Maybe He would link to me, or maybe The Professor and I would become fast friends. Maybe He would let me drive his Mazda, and I would let him play Arkanoid.

But my ruse has become transparent to you, discriminating reader, for the frequency of links to Instapundit are almost as frequent as links to Amazon, Internet Movie Database, and my beautiful wife. I won't bother you any more with the gratuitous links to Instapundit anymore, because I know you'll see through them, and I don't want to lose any more of your respect.

Besides, I realize that those of you who frequent blogs have already read Instapundit before you show up here.

However, I hope you will forgive me if I link to something The Professor says, perhaps excerpted and followed by a simple "Heh." or "Indeed." Please understand this is not gratuitous linking or even pale imitating, but rather homage and fair use.

Thank you.

Were I not so discouraged, I would try to follow some of Wizbang's advice for triggering an Instalanche. But I am too discouraged.

Wednesday, September 17, 2003
 
Thank You, There In The Middle Row

Hey, thanks for the link, Jared of Strategic Intelligence, a clearinghouse for his conservative Christian viewpoint, some significant silliness, and serious discussions of a militarily strategic nature.

Are you higher in the blogosystem than me? If you are, I don't know if I want to talk to you. I'm pretty petty, you know.


 
Another Chapter of QA Wars: Episode IV: Uh, No Hope

With an ominous chunk!, the code freeze slowly began to creep forward.



You can see the first chapter here.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003
 
Short Storium, er, Storia

Michael Williams at Master of None announces the first ever Spherewide Short Story Symposium (with an exclamation point, no less).

I have submitted my entry, "To a Good Home".

Man, I hope I win some of those exciting cash prizes.

Monday, September 15, 2003
 
Companies Debate No Gun Policies in St. Louis

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch is so excited that it's left a puddle on the floor as it reports that:
    "No Firearms" signs at many workplaces and businesses open to the public may be the first outward indication that Missouri has joined the states that allow residents to carry concealed weapons.
Gramercy, that will comfort the goblins. Businesses to rob and assurances of safety to ensure that if you're a nutbar with a grudge, you can splatter as many co-workers as you want before the police arrive. You know, the guys with guns to stop you.

 
I Just Cannot Read Harper's Any More

Okay, I am done trying. I have had it at last with Harper's magazine, and the remainder of my subscription is going straight from the mailbox to the recycle bin.

I tried so very hard to read the August 2003 issue while I was at the gym the other night, but I couldn't get more than a few paragraphs into anything, and I didn't try hard, frankly.

Here's what I read:
  • In the "Letters" section, Iain Murray writes a letter to respond to a snarky piece in a previous Harper's which I have never read and never will, now. Apparently, the author of the piece savaged the fact that the Competitive Enterprise Institute impugned the science of the National Assessment on Climate Change, using properly-crafted insinuations and ad homenims. Iain's letter points out that the National Assessment is widely debunked by real scientists. Since the author of the piece gets a chance to get in the final snark, Bryant Urstadt responds to a scientific rebuttal with....Manhattan ad homenims and insinuations.

  • Lewis Lapham, in his monthly column "Notebook", titles his rant "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and it begins:

      During the eight months prior to the invasion of Iraq, the American news media were content to believe the government's fairy tale about its reasons for sending the tanks eastward into Eden. The Bush Administration's buncombe artists could tell any story they pleased about Western civilization being held for ransom by Saddam Hussein's weapons of mass destruction, and even when the plot lines were shown to depend upon suborned testimony and counterfeit intelligence, the media vouched for the wisdom of Oz. Why not? What was to be gained by casting doubts? The fairy tale sold newspapers, boosted television ratings, curried favor at the White House and the FCC, drummed up invitations from the Pentagon to attend the military costume party in the Persian Gulf.

    I am pretty sure he goes from there into the common missing trope about Bush lying, la la la. Whatever. Point of order, Mr. Editor. I am getting awfully tired of the misapplication of the term
    lie (or fairy tale) regarding the build up to war in Iraq.

    You want a lie? Here's one, Lewey: "I did not have sex with that woman, Miss Lewinsky." You see, the speaker is uttering something he absolutely knows is true because he has first, uh, hand knowledge of the reality. And he says the opposite. For his own benefit mind you, and thanks to shills around the world, he got benefits from the lie. I know you looked down upon the Arkansas governor, too, Lewey, because I could stomach your weary tone then. But others of your rarefied Manhattan ilk did.

    A little sex of which you have first gland hand knowledge is a little different from the decision to go to war. The decision, and the expression of that decision, is based on facts, assumptions, interpretations, intelligence, and guesses which might be true and gambles made on worst case scenarios. To say that George W. Bush lied, or made a myth or fairy tale, is to belittle the complicated nature of the decision and to say that George W. Bush had first hand knowledge that everything he said was absolutely, irreputably untrue. That's a hard case to prove unless you're omniscient. Oh, wait, some of these pinheads think they are.

    Also, Lapham, I hold you ultimately accountable for that condescension bomb called Nickel and Dimed: On Not Getting By in America. Cripes, I opened that thing and it blew its classist pitytoric all over, and I am still scraping Ehrenreich off the walls. Thank goodness I bought it in softcover, or the crapnel might have been the end of me.

  • Harper's Index always contains a few gems that make a point out of a contextless statistic. For example:

      Percentage of South Carolinians prosecuted under the state's "anti-lynching" law since 1998 who are black : 63

    Because, obviously, the law was intended to be marked Whites Only, and blacks cannot do whatever the law prohibits to whites or each other.

  • Finally, to the Readings section, a kind of Snobber's Digest. First outtake, I mean piece, is entitled "The New Censorship" and it's by Curtis White, an excerpt from his forthgoing book The Middle Mind : Why Americans Don't Think for Themselves. I'm already inspired thrilled and that's just the intro. First paragraph:

      Americans are not much in the habit of poking at the dominant realities of our lives. We're delicate. We're used to deferring, though we like to think of ourselves as rebels. What parents, teachers, presidents, and Dan Rather say is usually good enough for us. Even if it is demonstrably false, we submit out of habit and fright over what not submitting might require of us. We sacrifice our lives out of feeling that there is some sort of comfort in deferring.

    Charming. So we should believe instead what Harper's and its select authors say instead. Bullocks. Good enough for those rebellous thinkers churned from our universities' liberal arts programs to descend upon New York City and Washington D.C. to live like kings and courtiers in order to better the lot of the common man.
ENOUGH! That's the first four things in the schnucking magazine. Even the GM ad in the front cover tried to make me feel guilty for driving a car, except that I drove a brand that would put an apologetic ad in an enlightened magazine.

I've been a Harper's subscriber for more than ten years, regularly remitting a portion of my sub-sustenance wage salary to get a slick and remain educated, but no more. I have a couple months of the magazine piled up, and they're all going out. I have other, more relevant magazines, like FHM to read.

I've got seven months left on the subscription I had paid up for three or four years in advance, and that's it. I'm done until such time as Lapham's gone and the magazine returns to a more even-handed set of viewpoints.

I'm sure Harper's won't miss me. Enough cosmo coastal sycophants will continue to buy the magazine to learn what to think, what vodkas to drink, and that Xandria and the Blowfish catalog both offer creative merchandise for consenting adults. A Midwestern conservative isn't its target audience anyway, or else they would cover tractor pulls and corn futures more frequently, or whatever stereotypes they've developed for everyone west of New Jersey.

So be it. An amicable parting. Except for the screaming and the throwing of the dirty laundry on the front lawn.

 
I Feel Pretty. And Powerful.

Meatriarchy once again leads me to some introspection, wherein I discover:

Warrioress
You are the Figher Femme

Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
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Sunday, September 14, 2003
 
What Particular Mess Would We Be In?

Time quotes "Mad" Albright:
    Frankly, if there was a President Gore, we wouldn't be in this particular mess.
What mess would we be in? Anyone think it would be less?

(Link seen on Drudge.)

 
The Meatriarch Carves Up Another

The Meatriarchy, a new member on my blog roll, carves up Naomi Klein, who thinks "Free Trade Is War."

Haven't these people read Orwell before they come up with their titles?

And which is worse: If they have not, or if they have?

 
Hans Has Slaughtered The Tusken Raiders

Cue the Wagnerian music and get ready for the jump cut, but Hans has slain his tribe of Tusken Raiders on his way to the Dark Side. Allow me to translate for those of you who are not geeks: A developer who's into Java and, worse than Linux, Macs, has something nice to say about Microsoft, or at least something not fervid about open source:
    Novices require simplicity. Microsoft has to dumb down its tools for the novice developer, but the Java community often seems to feel no such compulsion. I'm watching some coworkers struggle to become fluent in Struts. They are rightfully offended by how often they have to learn some little workaround rather than the obvious approach simply working.

    I've come to realize that with many open source projects, any problem that has a reasonable workaround tends not to get addressed. Just as Microsoft often fails to fix behavioral defects before devoting resources to new features, the bazaar tends to permit usage defects since it's more rewarding to add new functionality. Can't we find a happy medium?
The answer is, unfortunately not. Hardcore open sourcers who do that sort of thing for the fun of it are gearheads who would rather debate the merits of the Borg-Warner T5, whether it's great or whether it sucks. Their esoteric knowledge separates them from the simple novices, and they don't want to simplify. They want to be gurus.

So come to Microsoft, Hans. Uncle Bill wants to include everyone. Even people who used to have blue hair. Uncle Bill forgives. Uncle Bill loves.

Click Trust Microsoft and let Bob show you the path to simple development and simple user interfaces.

 
Where Am I In The Ecosystem?

Everyone's always talking about Truth Laid Bear's blog ecosystem which ranks blogs by their popularities. Where am I, you ask?

#1581 currently, thanks.

Lower than Instapundit.
Lower than Musings from Domenico Bettinelli.
Lower than both BRIAN's Culture Blog and BRIAN's Education Blog.
Lower even than RatBastard.org.

Only people I am not lower than are people who have started their blogs in the last fifteen minutes, werd. I ain't gonna link to them because that would put them above me.

Ay, me. Whatever will I do?

I think I will post some more.

 
The Shidoshi of Paranoia Speaks

So my beautiful wife has bought a shredder so that she can get rid of old, possibly sensitive documents from her files. So she's running credit card statements, bank statements, and other good stuff the bad men want through the shredder before disposing of them.

Unfortunately, it's becoming fairly easy to reconstruct shredded documents, even ones cut into tiny little pieces (see Church Street Technology for visual cues). Essentially, the bad men (or the government) can scan the shredded documents and then put super computers, like the latest "e-mail only" machine at Best Buy (if not now, then in the next year or so, werd) onto assembling them like puzzle pieces until the little ink smudges make glyphs which then make words or numbers or credit card numbers or evidence that yes, once you did accidentally have a copy of 2600 in the house (but it all was a mistake, sir, I thought it was a magazine about my favorite game console).

Your Shidoshi of Paranoia knows of only one way to truly, effectively, and cheaply dispose of your sensitive documents:

Ingestion.

The human body can process, and pass, your documents in an unreadable form, whether by human eye or machine. You can consume several pages of documents a day, enough to easily accommodate the day's receipts. Processing your document elimination in this way is economic and ultimately the only way you can be sure no one will even want to examine your sensitive information.

You ask, "But Shidoshi, how does one eat these documents?"

I am a master in the realm of document salad. Look at this beauty.

Ingredients, you ask?

Bank statement, laterally torn and then shredded.
Credit card bill, ripped into pieces.
Note to self, minced.

I usually drizzle this with balsamic vinegarette, if you consider 1/2 a cup a "drizzle." Also, don't forget to pile on the salt. Goes well with a bottle of Les Bourgeois Riverboat Red wine, particularly if you have had most of the bottle before you start on the salad.
Of course, if you have a higher volume of document destruction needs, you can include them within more of your diet or as part of your family's overall nutritional plan. Remember, wood pulp contains fiber, and a lot of things are printed with soy-based ink, so that's got to be good for you, wot?

And on a personal note, it's during file-cleaning season that I am glad that we have five four cats.

Your Shidoshi has spoken. Pay mind.

 
Improved Hockey Nicknames, Cheap

In today's St. Louis Post-Dispatch, columnist Dan O'Neill, who once deservedly got raked over the coals (deservedly so) for getting several St. Louis Blues players' names wrong when he covered them (probably while intoxicated), pens a laundry list of hockey nicknames and calls it a column.

I have to admit, I've always thought most hockey nicknames were kinda boring. Jamal "Jammer" Mayers? Tyson "Nasher" Nash? Tony "Twister" Twist? Come on, where's the creativity, the poetry?

So ever since I have been a Blues fan, I've applied my own nicknames to the players, from afar, of course, since some of those gentlemen are bigger than I am. So hear they are, for your enjoyment:
Last year's crew:
Player Nickname Reason
Eric Boguniecki Bug-on-the-windshield He's a little guy, and sometimes when he throws a check on a bigger player, he looks like one.
Petr Cajanek Bionic Rhymes, almost, with Cajanek.
Dallas Drake Ducky A drake's a male duck. Must I draw a picture?
Reed Low Beaver He has a prominent overbite. Don't tell him I said so.
Steve Martins Harvard He went there.
Jamal Mayers Gunboat Tough and fast.
Scott Mellanby Hawk Mellanby, especially when he's got his helmet on, looks like the guy from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.
Keith Tkachuk Ka-Ching! He makes a lot of money.
Barret Jackman Bert Heavy brows, high forehead, who else could it be?
Alexander Khavonov Never Never Khavanov. Come on, it sounds cool.
Chris Pronger Cap'n Happy Grant Fuhr started it.
Bryce Salvador Kermit He looks kinda like Kermit the Frog.
Brent Johnson Big Roman Turek was "Large."
Old friends:
Scott Young Walleye Television cameras often caught him gasping and with an eye on the jumbotron, making him look like a fish.
Scott Pellerin Droopy He looks kinda droopy, even when he smiles.
Tyson Nash Pinball His playing style was to crash from one opponent to the next.
Michal Handzus The Zusinator The guy was a machine, and he never smiled.
Lubos Bartecko The Wolf Lubos is kinda like lupus, which.... ah, screw it, it's too scholarly to explain.
Aren't those much cooler than what the hockey players themselves use? Perhaps the NHLPA can hire me as an official Alternate Collquial Designation Originator or something.

 
Europeans Blame America For Spam

Of course, America is responsible for spam e-mails, European weenies say.

Next, the European Union will also announce its discovery that the United States is also responsible for a host of other ailments, such as impotence, receding gum lines, those times when the moon swallows the mother Sun, the existence of spiders, and using satelite beams to make the neighbor's dog bark all night.

(Link seen on TechDirt.)

Friday, September 12, 2003
 
Homeowners' Collective Overwhelms an Individual, Again

Drudge linked to this story about a home owner in Florida whose house is being stripped from him because he violated the local home owners' collective by putting up a flag pole. Now that the court wrangling is done, it's time for some house rustling to pay for the bills.

Whereas everyone else seems to be focused on the "damn commies took away his flag!" aspect, it might be worthwhile to note the deeper erosion of human rights, that is, a property rights. To quote the self-satisfied snake from the home owner's collective:
    West Palm Beach attorney Steven Selz, who represents the homeowners association, said the ruling makes sense.

    "There has to be a way to give the association a right to enforce its claims on the property," he said.
Remember, the homeowners' collective only has its freedom to infringe upon a man's land only until the municipality decides your puny property taxes are no match for big box sales taxes, werd, and then you, too, get to ride the slippery slope from the recognition of individual property rights into statist security.

 
Steinberg on Magen David Adom

Neil Steinberg, with the Chicago Sun-Times, talks to members of Magen David Adam, the Red Star of David. These are the people who respond to minister to the injured whenever a suicide bomber strikes, and they're a multiethnicity, multireligious force who the Intersocialist Red Cross won't let join because they come from Israel.

They have to armor-plate their ambulances. Gentlemen, and ladies, of Magen David Adom, you've got galls as big as church bells, and I salute you.

Thursday, September 11, 2003
 
Whatever is She Talking About?

I have no idea what my lovely wife is talking about when she says:
    Contrary to the 2600s (not Atari) lying about my house, I'm not part of the hacker culture, and I know little about it - my geekiness is pretty mainstream in the code perspective.
Subversive hacker magazines lying around here? I am shocked, shocked!

Dammit, woman! I paid for those magazines in cash and wore a hat to obscure my features for the hidden cameras to conceal those purchases. Now I shall have to develop a cover story to explain them, perhaps something about "researching a novel...."

 
A Google Search I Could Do Without

Carp! I am #3 on the Google search for file swapping list. I just knew someday the RIAA would learn about this new-fangled "search engine" technology.

Sorry, honey, but they're coming to take our house for my impudent keyword listing.

Final irony, of course, is the only music I have downloaded is Robynn Ragland's "The People You Know" from her Web site. I don't even let my friends listen to my tapes or CDs for fear of violating my licensing restrictions, and I even forcibly prevent my gym-buffed wife from reading books I purchase for my own private, non-transferable enjoyment.

 
It's a Pacifica, for Chrysling Out Loud

The very day I see one of these weird Chrysler Pacificas on the road, and I am thinking when did this contraption fall to Earth from the planet Minivania? I'd never heard of it. And do the owners realize that the name comes from the same root word as pacifier?

Then, the very same day, The Professor brings it up. Great minds move in tandem, so they say.

 
Hamas Hits the Boogeyman Ceiling

After the last Israeli strike (let's not call killing a schnucking cancerous criminal killer an assassination for the umpteenth time--learn your etiomology, broadcasters, so perhaps you can stop making yourself look as ignorant as you think we rabble are that you want to educate), Hamas needed something to come out of its mouth when it foamed, so it had to come up with something. So they said:
    "Targeting homes is violating all red lines," the Hamas military wing, Izzedine al Qassam, said in a leaflet distributed in Gaza City. "So the Zionist enemy from today shoulders the responsibility for the targeting of houses and Zionist towers everywhere in occupied Palestine."
Unfortunately, Hamas has reached the Boogeyman Ceiling. Since Hamas has proven that its capable of killing as many innocent people, especially women and children, as possible and that it likes to do so, it doesn't have any threats to scare people. After three years of regular-looking unhelpful hardware men spraying ballbearings, fasteners, their fetid entrails, and innocent blood, its probably hard to imagine anything worse than the constant threat of sudden painful death. How does Hamas turn it up a notch? It cannot, it's the worst possible boogeyman, and the Israelis have nothing to fear but the worst, which is what they've had for many years now.

Den Beste shares the sentiments, and says it better. If you're not reading his every post, you ought to.

 
The Tryanny of the Super-Majority

The Missouri Legislature this afternoon voted to override Governor B. Holden's veto of its bill to allow Missourians who aren't fatcats or their defenders to carry firearms for self-defense. Here's the St. Louis Post-Dispatch story. Or, as Carol Daniel of KMOX Radio "informed" us during the "news" at four o'clock, the legislature got the bare minimum of the two thirds majority.

That's right, citizens, a scant two thirds of your elected officials have voted to recognize your right to bear arms and to bag your daily goblin limit. These few mouthbreathing outcasts have used due process of law to ram their agenda through the legislature.

But never fear, your self-appointed broadcasters are looking out for you. Just remember to call them next time someone busts through your patio door at three on a Thursday morning. Our phone lines are open!

Wednesday, September 10, 2003
 
No Guns, No Consent, Now Just Governed

The British gave up their weapons. Now, they're going to give up their sovereignty. No vote, just fiat from the prime minister.

The European rulers who ride in their limos, with their entourages, no longer even put on the show of working through the will of their people. Welcome to the 21st century aristocracy, prole, now surrender some of your wages to keep the French elderly cushioned from the horror of their expanding retirement.

(Link seen on Fark. Thanks, Drew, you've ruined my day.)

Tuesday, September 09, 2003
 
We Could Be Tycoons, El Guapo!

Check it out: O'Fallon Brewery is doing a stock offering, selling 140,000 shares at $5 each to raise money to expand. You and me, El Guapo, could be like Anheuser and Busch, getting in on this ground floor opportunity. Sorry, bad example. Still, if you want to invest in a small brewery, send them an e-mail for a prospectus and whatnot. You could get the second name that all caballeros have. You will be Don Guapo y Rico!

Or you'll have a cool, $500 wallhanging for your eventual bar, werd.

 
Hijinks Almost A Felony Now

Here in Casinoport, Missouri, one 15 year old said to a bunch of friends, hey, I just cracked myself over the head with a skateboard and it didn't hurt, I am invincible (or words to that effect). So he asked his friends to help him prove the point, and unfortunately, one of his buddies found an error in the hypothesis by cracking Mr. Invincible's skull and putting him in the hospital with a severe brain injury.

Authorities, of course, have charged boy #2.

He's going to reform school for four years, where they'll eat up a suburban skateboard kid. That'll fix him. For just being a stupid kid. Crimeney, some of the things my brother, Him Jim, Dim Jim, and I did when we were young would undoubtedly be capital crimes now or threats to Homeland Security, which nowadays includes more than blowing stuff up. I'd discuss some anecdotes, but I am still in my mother's will. Too much revelation, and the pets' or vets' organizations get my cut.

Also, our nation will be safer when being a teenage boy is a felony, so I urge our lawmakers to outlaw it immediately.

 
What Would the Patriette Think (WWtPT)?

The Patriette is an instructional design specialist. I wonder if she, too, thinks Computers and their myriad and non-intuitive interfaces sux.

She hasn't mentioned it specifically, but her blog contains a bunch of what she thinks. You should click that link.

Monday, September 08, 2003
 
God Bless America

Entire nations have militaries that lack decent night vision gear for nighttime fighting, and here in America we give them to children to play with, for the low price of $9.95 plus shipping and handling.

As Yakov Smirnoff, who does not make vodka you damn kids, often says, "What a country!"

 
Is This Manual R Rated?

Jeez louise, I was just trying to figure out how to change the oil in a John Deere M655 54" commercial grade lawn mower, and I am confronted with this gratuitous display of violence which only serves to remind me that I have not yet seen Freddy Vs Jason. Isn't that a little graphic, Mr. Deere?

Cripes, I am going to have nightmares.

 
What Eighties Song Are You?

When Doves Cry
"When Doves Cry" (by Prince)

How could you just leave me standing,
Alone in a world so cold?
Maybe you're just too demanding.
Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold.
Maybe you're just like my mother.
She's never satisfied.
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like,
When doves cry.



Which 80's Song Fits You?
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Sunday, September 07, 2003
 
And TechDirt Is Redeemed

Of course, I might get huffy at times, but TechDirt quickly restores my faith by linking to this important study guide for people who would like to become A+ Certified, like me:

 
I Needed Help Turning My Computer On

I am an A+ Certified Computer Technician, werd, and when I built my sooper (for the time) PC from a collection of suh-weet parts (dualie, DDR ram, 128 Mb UGP video, the works), I put it all together and flipped the switch on the back, and....

Nothing. Power supply didn't start up or anything. As you techno-savvy people know, computer cases come with no doc whatsoever unless you buy the latest nuclear-plant models, so I kinda thought you flip that on and off switch in the back, wot? Who wouldn't think that?

So I ordered another sooper case and waited a couple days for it to come. When it did, I inadvertently turned on the switch and hit the reset button. Oh, wait, you see, it's got a power toggle switch on the back and a power button on the front! The back is absolute power, like the plug, and the front button turns the thing on when it's been shut off. Intuitive.

So I take a little umbrage when some TechDirty says:
    It appears that plenty of office workers are still quite uncomfortable with their computers. A new study has suggested that one in seven office workers doesn't even know how to turn their computer on. About 20% needed help in saving or printing a document. Companies are spending quite a bit of money employing extra IT staff just to help with these sorts of basic issues. Of course, I do wonder a little about this study. These are all the sorts of tasks that you really only need to be taught once: "You see that button? Good! Now, press it." Also, there's no indication what job functions these people held, so it's tough to determine if this really is a big deal.
I was talking about this with my beautiful wife just yesterday. Our neighbor, an active but elderly man in his 70s, got a hand-me-up computer from his techno-savvy son just so he, my neighbor, could see what computers and the Internet were all about. His son gave him a three minute overview, but after the son had left, our neighbor had to give him a call to learn how to turn the computer off.

You see, you press the button to turn it on, but you select a command from this menu to turn it off. Intuitive.

Makes me want to invite all you computer "designers" (overworked developers and engineers with other priorities in mind, no doubt, when you inflict these iniquities upon the end users) into a conference room with no windows and lock the door behind me so I can counsel you. With a SCSI cable, if necessary.

This, I guess, is what makes me a good tester (I make no assurance of quality except for the testing, thank you). I hate computers. It's like the Ben Kingsley character says to the little kid in the trailer for Searching for Bobby Fischer: "Do you hate your opponents?...They hate you."

Of course, when SkyNet becomes self-aware, I will be first on its list. Johnny C can wait. It's gotta make sure I don't needle the developers into patching its self-awareness first.

What was my point? Oh, yeah. Computers and their myriad and non-intuitive interfaces sux. Werd.

 
Investigative Reporting At Its Finest

The Dead Ale Wives Watchtower takes you into the inner sanctum of Dungeons and Dragons and shows you how Dungeons and Dragons is leading the children of America deeper and deeper into the occult.

(Link seen on Fark.)

 
Galls Like Church Bells

Jerry Caesar (Dabney Coleman) said to Reverend Jonathan Whirley (Christopher Plummer) in the dubbed-for-television rendition of Dragnet, "You've got galls as big as church bells, reverend." I'd like to amend that to "You've got galls as big as church bells, captain," and say it to Jerry Kittinger of the United States Air Force (undoubtedly retired by now).

In 1960, Captain Kittinger leapt from the Excelsior III, a perfectly good balloon that was 102,800 feet in the air (that's almost 20 miles, and he free-fell for almost 5 minutes at speeds up to almost Mach 1 (the speed of sound), wearing a pressure suit and a parachute. Maybe two parachutes, but what does it matter when you're at the edge of space?

Me, I get a little queasy in the glass-walled elevators of the Milwaukee Hyatt when I'm on the ninth floor and I punch the L button and then I look out the walls and watch the scenery start moving up at the same time the floor seems to give way. Watch the Earth growing and broadening as I fell from the darkness into the light? There's no pressure suit invented that could keep up with what I'd evacuate.

So someone pat down the cashew, because this Kittinger guy is cuffing nuts. And I salute him for it!
    Unrelated note: So the government thought it was a good idea 40 years ago to see if someone could bail out of a space capsule and make it safely down, so why doesn't the space shuttle doesn't carry pressure suit parachutes? I know all you physics geeks are going to point out the differences between the velocities of an orbiter and a balloon, but where there's a backup plan, there're survivors, end of story.

Saturday, September 06, 2003
 
Misplaced Modifier of the Week

In The Skeptic Volume 10, Number 1, Michael Shermer writes in a review of The Origin of Minds: Evolution, Uniqueness, and the New Science of Self:
    Alfred North Whitehead once famously quipped that all Western philosophy consists of a series of footnotes to Plato. Although Aristotelians would beg to differ, a similar observation may be made that modern theories of the mind are footnotes to Darwin.
As someone who considers himself vaguely Aristotelian (next person to ask me how I am gets that as a response: "Vaguely Aristotelian. You?"), I have to say I have never considered begging or differing with observations that may be made about Darwin.

Heck, no one's even asked.

On the other hand, I'll lick any self-important Idealist who wants to tell me that I should be ruled by a class of my betters or that I, as a better, should rule everyone else. If you call a size eleven cheap sneaker applied judiciously to the glutes and occasionally the tensor fasciae latae a footnote, then I guess I'll have to agree with the poorly-written statement in the quote.

 
Nockuonyer Bock

The good news: Samuel Adams Utopia clocks in at 25% alcohol by volume, according to this Sacramento Bee story.
The bad news:It's a swanky limited edition.

The good news: A single bottle could probably do you.
The bad news: It's limited edition, and it costs $100 a bottle.

The bad news: It doesn't taste like beer.
The good news: It works as a contact disinfectant.

(Link seen on Fark.)

 
My Father Would Have Been Relieved

Hey, Suburban Blight has lead me to another quiz: Flooble Gay Quiz.

My father would have been happy if I could only have shown him the results:
    flooble said that I am
    Not Gay
    (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
    Take the flooble Gay Quiz
You see, when I was in college, I was not very good at catching the women I chased. As a result, I experienced a lot of Romantic sonneteer mooning over the various perfect inattainable women, but very few dates. One Sunday, though, I arranged a date with a young lady (less than perfect, but it was a real date). I usually borrowed my father's car on Sunday nights to go out with some of my buddies, but the Sunday of the date, he found me washing the car, cleaning the windows, and whatnot.

"What, are you going on a date?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, scrubbing Golden Retriever nose prints from the windshield.

His voice lowered. "With a girl?" he asked.

Thursday, September 04, 2003
 
Governor Holden Proposes to Eliminate Loopholes For Small-, Medium-Sized Businesses

Missouri Governor B. Holden has called a special session of the legislature to increase state revenue as much as he can without calling for a full statewide vote for approval. By eliminating tax "loopholes," according to this story in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, B. Holden wants to raise state money to spend on The Children.

Governor B. Holden undoubtedly wishes to reassure the really large companies in Missouri, the Fords, the Boeings, and the Anheuser-Busches, as well as the sports teams, that their loopholes won't be closed. Any time they start scuffing their feet and publicly muse about closing a factory or (heh heh) moving the ball team to East St. Louis, your state government will still be ready to shut off your tax liability entirely, add costly infrastructure to support your plants, or build you a whole freaking stadium.

Just remember not to flaunt it before the rabble populace he continues to flout.

 
Protecting the Environment Weekly

Hey, look at that! I found my list of chores from last weekend here on my desk, where it had been previously been buried by junk mail and other effluvia cast off because I didn't have the time or inclination to deal with them. So as I was "dealing with them," which means I left them around long enough for the cats to knock over, I rediscovered my list.

And son of a gun, but that's what I was planning to do this weekend. So I am saving trees by recycling these lists, including tasks, week to week.

See, honey, I am doing it for the environment.

 
Someone Shoot Rupert Murdoch in the Leg!

This madness must end! First, they sued Al Franken for using the phrase "Fair and Balanced." Now Drudge has linked to a story headlined:

Fox attacks girl in her bedroom

Rupert Murdoch must be neutered! Too late? Well, what about hobbled? I read James Fallows' long, and I thought at the time laughable, clawing at the ankles of an entrepreneur.

It wasn't until Murdoch's minions started showing up unnanounced and pulling the pigtails of British schoolgirls that I read the writing on the television!

Wednesday, September 03, 2003
 
Hide The Pointy Things!

According to this story in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the Department of Homeland Security (DOHS!) wants to remove the diamond-shaped placards that display on the sides of trucks that carry hazardous, corrosive, or flammable chemicals. You've seen them. They have the esoteric sub-diamonds with numbers that tell you how bad the contents of the truck are when the semi dumps its load on the interstate because the proud mother of a 2001 Girls 7-9 State Champion soccer player swerved into the opposite lane while arguing with her husband on the cell phone whether little Tyler bends it like Beckam or breaks it like Geremi.

You see, those little diamonds tell emergency responders what thickness of rubber to put between themselves and the various oozes and gases when they try to pull Bud, the truck driver, Melissa, the mother, and little Tyler from the green-flaming wreckage. Without those diamonds, the emergency responders either have to resort to taste tests or they have to suit up like they're invading an Iraqi Chocolate Milk Factory that's surrounded by barbed wire. These accidents occur with some frequency, you see, because Melissa never learns to just hang up the phone and drive.

But DOHS! thinks that removing these diamonds is a matter of national security. Because, you see, terrorists could see that information! And they could do things with those trucks!

Because these terrorists are spur-of-the-moment guys who see a truck driving through Nevada and say, hey, let's spill some chlorine!

Without the little diamonds on the side of the truck, the bad men who have been casing the chemical plant for six freaking months will mistake that the tanker truck coming out of the front gates carries nothing but crisp, refreshing (as Mike Shannon alleges) Bud Light, or that the glimmering behemoth bearing the Shell logo carries milk.

Soon, DOHS! will extend the ban to include removing Mr Yuck! from everything under your sink so the Doctor-of-Chemistry-bearing terrorists won't figure out that mixing a lot of bleach and a lot of ammonia is bad, and then DOHS! will want to strip warnings from cigarette packs because those warnings indicate that lit tobacco emits a colorless, odorless gas capable of killing people in enclosed spaces.

Hey, I cannot blame DOHS! for their efforts; I mean, much of my job is looking busy too, and not every bureacrat can just make up columns of numbers in a spreadsheet to stare at and say, "Mmm-hmmm," whenever the boss walks by the cubicle door. So keep up the good work, fellows, and keep hiding the pointy things for national security.

 
That's It. I'm Messing With Them.

I get the pleas for money from the NRA because, well, I am the NRA, and the ACLU because I subscribe to Harper's (at least, I did until my current subscription runs out).

I got pleas from them both today, and I swear I am going to write out $10 checks to both of them, and then I will put the checks into the wrong envelopes.

Let them figure it out.

Tuesday, September 02, 2003
 
Ah! Got the New Packer Pro Shop Catalog

I've received my Packers Pro Shop catalog in the mail today. Now I can get down to some serious home redecorating!

Because I want to be as serious of a fan as my homies in Wisconsin. Where everyone has at least one piece of furniture with the Packers logo on it.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any of the women's lingerie that they have advertised in the catalog on the Web site, so I cannot show you the beautiful Green and Gold chemise that my beautiful wife will get for Christmas.

Monday, September 01, 2003
 
Who's Down With OPP?

You know, the funniest thing in this story about what the Toronto authorities have had to deal with when drivers attempt to "explain" their infractions is that:

The Ontario Provincial Police goes by the abbreviation OPP!

You down with OPP? Yeah, you know me!

Ha hahahahhahasnerk!

Not funny? You're too old! Or too young, you damn kids!

(Link seen on Fark, of course. Who else besides me and Drew are posting on a holiday?)

 
Book Review: Lullaby by Ed McBain (1989)

As if to rinse my head out of the The McBain Brief, I quickly read Lullaby, the fortieth (!) novel in the 87th Precinct series. Written almost forty years later than some of the short stories in The McBain Brief, Hunter McBain's proficiency has definitely increased.

As usual, the novel follows the squad of the 87th Precinct in The City. Again, McBain introduces several plotlines into the story, which he might or might not connect later. Carella and Meyer catch a squeal for a double murder--a baby and her babysitter--on New Year's Eve, or rather, New Year's Day. Kling prevents a bunch of gangbangers with baseball bats from killing a guy, and the guy's none-to-happy to have been saved.

I love the 87th Precinct series and McBain's depictions of The City. Harsh, brutal, and strangely romantic. Of course, I have a City that I love, and I see our love story in McBain's characterization. This story takes place in a particularly harsh portion of winter, where leaden skies threaten and deliver snow (I miss you, baby).

McBain's writing style is not only poetic in theme, but in style, too. You have to look for it, which you do if you have an English degree, but check out the line breaking for effect:
    Angela Quist was an actress.
    Who lived in a loft.
    But Angela Quist was in reality a waitress who took an acting course once a week on her day off, and her loft was a twenty-by-twenty space sectioned off with plasterboard partitions from a dozen similar small spaces on the floor.
Or this:
    And suddenly there she was. Standing there. Standing in the door to the room, a knife in her hand.
    He had to go for the knife.
Anyone who's had a poetry class knows repetition and its impact. But most poems don't have knives, at least not ones printed in anthologies. At poetry slams, the poems have knives and the poets have knives and everyone applauds politely. But I digress.

Much like McBain does, digressions and streams of consciousness that flow around sandbars but back into the general plot. To great effect.

So it's the fortieth book (and since it's been fourteen years since publication, many more have come since then). Is it a good place to jump in? Well, if you've not dabbled in the 87th Precinct before, perhaps your first should be something earlier (the first three appeared in 1956). McBain's dilated the time a bit, so the same main characters haven't aged that much; elapsed time has been maybe a decade. But some of the returning characters are evolving somewhat, so you'll not know about Bert Kling, who started out a patrolman, and his lifes and loves, or about other characters reminisced. Still, you have to start somewhere, so if you can pick this up in hardback for a buck at a garage sale, do so.

 
Cascading System Failure

The Riverfront Times has a story this week about a paycheck-to-paycheck guy who got screwed when his last paycheck from a company that closed down got yanked out from under him, after he'd gotten it. Basically, it went like this:
  1. Company's out of money and closing down, but it's got enough in its account to pay employees their last paychecks.

  2. Company authorizes the payroll outsourcing company to issue last paychecks/direct deposits based on the strength of the money in its accounts.

  3. Payroll outsourcer issues checks and direct deposits from its own funds, expecting reimbursement from the company's accounts.

  4. Employee gets money directly deposited into account.

  5. Employee pays bills with money.

  6. Company's creditor seizes company's accounts.

  7. Payroll outsourcer tries to get money from company's account. Surprise! No money there.

  8. Payroll outsourcer contacts employee's bank and asks for the employee's directly-deposited pay back. Of course, payroll outsourcer can't get money from checks it issued, but it will take what it can get. Payroll outsourcers cannot typically get this money back from the people it pays unless they issued two payments or overpaid, but dammit, it's not going to be the one who takes the hit on this deal.

  9. Bank gives money back to payroll outsourcer, even though some bill payments have cleared, and counts this unethical withdrawal as an overdraft against employee.

  10. Other checks from the employee come in and bounce since the money's no longer there. Bank adds overdraft charges and payees add their charges.
------ (Sum)

Employee on the hook.


Keep in mind, dear readers, that paperless direct-deposit schemes and and their hell-spawned counterparts "online banking" and "online bill pay" are not designed for your convenience, they're designed to trim some costs of your banks and your creditors, and unless they offer a benefit beyond saving you some ink from a ten cent Bic and a first class stamp, they're not worth the possibility of a cascading failure.

For rest assured, this entire system is designed to handle a failure of this nature gracefully, as far as the designers of the system are concerned. When it comes to Paul and Mary getting reimbursed for financial shenanigans beyond your control, guess who's paying for it? Why, that's you, Peter. Hand over the money and you won't get prosecuted for passing bad checks.

Of course, as a final bit of fiscal advice, I recommend you take your pay in the form of guns and whiskey like I do. When the whole system collapses, you'll have something to defend yourself with and something to trade for necessities.

Also, I would not recommend cutting me off during my afternoon commute on paydays.

Thank you, that is all.

 
What Herb I Am

Quizilla says:

YOU ARE BASIL

What herb are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


I think they're doing me too much credit. I think I am hops. You are what you drink, wot?

(As seen on my beautiful wife's newly-redesigned blog.)

 
Battle of the Gritty Authentic Female Musicians

You think Michael Ironside vs Tommy Lee Jones would be a rumble? Well, you're right.

However, I've been thinking about another match-up: The Battle of the Gritty Authentics:

Ani "Folk You" DiFranco
Vs.
Pi "I Go By One Name I Got No Place for a Nickname" nk

Both of them do in-your-face, unapologetic songs that describe the modern female condition. While Pink's undoubtedly got a size advantage over the Pierced Pixie and has had radio-played hit songs, Ani DiFranco built her own record label with her bare hands, enduring the heat and the thousand tiny cuts and callouses that the endeavor inflicted, and no one would ever compare Ani to damn Britney Spears--Ani would garrote the offender with a spare guitar string on the spot.

Advantage: DiFranco!

 
Culled-n-Sacked

Headline makes it sound like I've lost my job. Not yet.

Kelly has, however, included me in the latest Cul-De-Sac blog round-up at Suburban Blight. She's got me listed for my review of The McBain Brief.

Maybe it's good that I'm not mentioning that some of the books I review are twenty or more years old. Makes my site appear more current and relevant than it is, and hides that I don't necessarily share a fetish for contemporary and important books that some bloggers have.

To say Noggle, one first must be able to say the "Nah."