New and Busted


NEW 76

A great war leaves the country with three armies-
an army of cripples, an army of mourners, and an army of thieves.
--German proverb


10/5/04

      Back on Friday, a fly came into the house. It has become Byron's Moby Dick.
      It hasn't bitten his leg off, but it is his obsession. Yesterday, he screamed at it out of pure frustration (Byron doesn't "meow," he makes birdlike chirps and squeaks, or his trademarked bloodcurdlingly loud "YEOOOOWL!" The first half-dozen times he let his Byron Siren go off, me and Kill Kill raced to him. It sounded like he'd broken a leg, but he either wanted to go out, or was just inexplicably screaming at the wall).
      "It's a fly. You're not going to catch it." I said, to--well, deaf ears. He continued to hunt the dirty little bugger. I think his frustration comes from the fact that he actually DID catch it! He slammed it with both front paws, looked around to make sure that it hadn't escaped, then opened his paws to see if he had it. He did; I saw it stumble on the ground away from him. Soon as he had confirmation of capture, he slapped his paws down on it--and missed. He's been chasing it ever since. I'd try to kill it myself (all I have is hairspray, but any spray other than water can down a fly long enough for you to squish it), but he seems to be enjoying his personal war. His antics even caused Kill Kill the Chill Chill Cat to meow for me to play with her with some shoelaces.

      They have very different styles of play. Byron is working out for his Ultimate Smackdown with Fly Hogan by chasing that most elusive of targets, the laser pointer dot. Gourd, but he loves that thing! As soon as I sit down when I get home, he stands up and pats my arm with a big-eyed look that says "Play, please?" Then he rampages after it. He even leaps up in the air at it--he frequently reaches a height of 5.5 feet! He could reach my nose! And he simmers down just enough to rest up for the next gentle padding with his paw, and his next polite request for "Play, please?"
      Kill Kill chased the laser pointer too, when she was small. Until she realized that it was just a dot. She pawed at it, walked over to my lap, sniffed at the pointer, gave me a dirty look, then never chased it again. She wanted toy mice! She'd tackle them and claw and bite and gut them, then look for another one to be thrown and destroyed.
      Byron's the opposite. If I threw a mouse, he'd chase it. Until it stopped moving. Then he'd wander away. Y'see, he likes to chase, she likes to catch. There's a big difference.

       Alaskan Mysteries. The sea monster and Bigfoot are probably crap, but the man-eating mud is real.

      Gullible UFO believers. What--there's another kind?!

      As a life-long lover of S-L-E-E-P and the dreams within, I'm always interested in articles on what, if anything, dreams "mean."

      Here's a headline that you don't see every day--nor would want to: Man Mistakenly Cuts Off Penis, Dog Eats It. Why'd he cut it off? "I confused it with the chicken's neck." Jeez, man! I thought that you were supposed to CHOKE chickens!
      (Note: Yeah, THAT article sounds believable)

      I always emphasize the cat here. In fairness, here's a link for the dog lovers. And here's one for the foot-long leech lovers.

      I'm lazy again about the page. Subsequently, there's no title, no quote, no link to last month's News or a link to its nonexistence, and the comments will continue on the September page. For I am that lazy.

10/6

      Pamela R. sends Apptels and Gravy, a story that reminds her of my great jumpter, Byron. I found it unbearably cute! You may find its cuteness unbearable. As you may Top Kittins Cards. And if so, y'know what? Go back to your Undisclosed Location, you snarling old sourpuss!

10/7

      I hate eating. Well, not hate per se, but I don't enjoy it. Cooking, that I do hate. Forget the flying cars and regular trips to the Moon, the lie from the Jetsons I hate the most is the current nonexistence of food pills.
      Food is just food to me. Years ago, I read an article about how chronically obese people have more sensitive taste buds than anyone else. They physically derive more pleasure from eating. The light bulb went off: If that's true, then the opposite must be true--That there are people who have underdeveloped taste buds and derive no pleasure from eating. Me.
      I can eat the same damn food every day for months or years, then swear off it for months or years or forever. I mean, it's just food. I ate Shake'n'Bake for years, then abruptly stopped. Lately, I'd developed a renewed taste for it, and have begun eating it several times a week. I made it today! (Actually, ruined it today, when I put stir-fry breast strips in the oven for the same time as I would half a breast. The result was chicken jerky) I got excited when I found a 35c coupon in the box! Cheap Shake'n'Bake soon, and WAE HAILPED! (Old people get that joke) Then I took a closer look at the coupon: "Expires 12/30/97."
      Like I said. Months or years.

      So there's a beetle on the ceiling. A big one, shiny and black. I once had a "pet" spider in the bathroom. I'd catch it tiny moths and other small bugs. One day I caught it a very large insect with surprising ease. Well, it wasn't Mothra by any stretch, but it was big for Spider. I threw it in his web, and he began sucking it dry.
      The next time I looked, he was cutting it from his web and throwing it away. The next next time, Spider was dead. Then I remembered the Chemlawn signs on the lawn. The bug was poisoned, and it poisoned Spider.
      So there's a beetle on the ceiling. The Kids will surely attack said hexapod if they find it. It may be pesticided. In the name of my Kids' health, I decided to smash it with an empty yogurt cup. I climbed up on a chair.
      An office chair.
      The kind with wheels. That spins. That rocks.
      All three of those features came into play when I lunged for the bug. It spun, rocked, rolled, and I went into the ether. But not for long!
      WHAM! "ARRRGGHH!!"
      I hit the floor so hard that my glasses broke.
      And I laid there on the floor for a good 10 minutes, in too much pain to move. To add insult to injury, I laid there thinking "Dumbass! Dumbass! DUMBASS!" There were folding chairs right near me! Through my now-one-lensed glasses, I got my second insult: looking up (like there was any other place to look), I discovered that not only had I completely missed the bug, it hadn't even moved. It stared down at me, laughing its thorax off.
      If there's a positive side, it's that I think it's my ribs again, and not my back. Ribs heal, backs get worse. And I still have some Vicuprofen left over from the last rib-bashing. It's 18 months old and it's really lost a lot of its efficacy. But it numbs me enough that I make groans of pain and not screams of agony. Unfortunately, I only have enough to take one a day until my doctor's appointment. And you're supposed to take 3.
      Suck-suck-suckiest bit: Sunday I was going to go and visit Block Island again, and this time do it right. But I can't be exerting myself by walking for miles when I'm not sure what's wrong with me. And that's not the sucky part: After this weekend, the high-speed ferry closes for six months. I set the alarm early today so that I could reserve a car. Instead, I left early to get my smashed glasses fixed at Sears Optical. Game over, dude.
      When I'd recovered enough yesterday that I was actually able to stand up, I smacked at the bug with a newspaper in revenge.
      And it got away.

10/8

      I awoke in so much pain this morning, that I gave up on my plan to ration my remaining Vicoprofens over 4 days. I can't spend 8 hours a day in pain, with 16 more a day in agony, so I moved my doctor's appointment to today. I was lucky: It wasn't my back, it was my ribs. It wasn't a fracture, it was a contusion. I've got about a week of pain before I'm better. And I can get a Vicuprofen refill for only $10, with a Walgreen's gift check for $20 on top of that! I've got to brutally batter my body more often! Here, buggy buggy buggy...

      The coworker who saw our boss Bob at the methadone clinic--without giving an explanation as to why she, too was outside a methadone clinic at 6AM--got excited when I got my scrip for my back. "Is it Percocet?" she asked with the wild eyes of a toddler in a toy store. "No, it's Vicuprofen," I said, of that thorax-kicking shit.
      She said dismissively, "Oh, that's nothing! I want some MORPHINE!" I made a joke about Gina knowing a guy who can get Oxycontin (as he's been severely burned all over his body), and she got REALLY EXCITED. (Sorry, that's as far as this story goes. I work with a bunch of people with interesting addictions, I guess)

      I haven't listened yet, but you can hear the entire new William Shatner album "Has Been" here. Mr Tambourine MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!

      Game the System: a list of sites that may or may not, or may if you poke around a bit, have polls about who won the debate. Spin their Spin and Vote Kerry!
      I suppose that it's not "ethical" by some standard, but by what standard are 1100 dead Americans and (at least) 13,000 dead Iraqi civilians "okay"? They've got the corporate-controlled media in their favor. The "internets," as Dumbya called it, is the last place where the voices of real people can be heard. And we were heard, in the last debate's spin. Vote Early, and Often!

10/10

      Scientific proof pf Murphy's Law.

      Blacked Out and Blue, one guy's long list of alcohol-related injuries. Funny, but if even 10% of these are true stories--what a loser. And I'll bet I've waited on him.

10/11

      Before I was on the Vicuprofen, the fractured rib hurt more than the contusion. But when I'm on it, I felt nothing from the fracture and plenty of pain from the contusion (ranging from "dull ache" to "stabbing"). I guess it's because the contusion's on my lower back, and apparently connected to every muscle in my body. It hurt today when I sniffled.

      "Why choosing to be alone doesn't necessarily indicate suicidal tendencies," a strange title for an amusing article about loners like me.

      Long article about David Hamel, alien contactee and inventor of one of those "free energy" devices that never seems to work.

      The Hentai Dictionary, a list of Japanese sexual obsessions. Have I mentioned lately that Japanese people are crazy?

      (We'll have to take their word that all of these are real, as 99% of the links don't work)

      Bush sure sucks at debating! But he's always been like that.
      Or has he? Bush: The 10 Year Difference. Today's new phrase: Presenile Dementia.
      Hmm...Bush just this month put off his yearly physical checkup because he "doesn't have the time." Put it off until after the election...

10/13

      Mimi suggested that the cats post for a while. I did yesterday in the Comments, and for those of you who avoid that because of its heavy doses of Gonter-radiation, here it is.

      Well, it won't be on the level of quality that Abbie has, or even the quality of that last one. And I'm not going to make things up, just give cat's eye views of them. So the Kids may not post any more frequently than I do. But if they have something to say, they'll say it.      In other cat news, Byron has finally exited Stick Figure Phase. That means he's as long and tall as he'll ever get, now he'll just add body mass.
      And he's small. Much smaller than Killsy. Shorter and smaller. I used to think, back when he was still growing, that he was taller than her. He isn't, but the reason I thought so is interesting: She walks with her head down, leading with her ears. He walks with his head as far up as his neck allows--he's leading with his eyes, as he's deaf.

      "SO! You think you are a match for my Stinky Monkey Style Kung-Fu!"

       Kittens! Number Three is famous, but this Byron-as-Godzilla pic is my fave, after micro-Byron and mini-Kill Kill taking a stroll.
      Except for this one! Ah-hahaha! Submit your captions in the Comments! "It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right!"

      Genetic disproof of the right-wing's "Homosexuality isn't natural" argument.

10/14

      Byron's Blog:

      The Christian right's five funniest Iraq war moments

      There's one of me and 99 of you

      JEEZ, dinosaurs! Could you die with some consistency?!

10/15

      The cats are too sleepy to blog. Tomorrow they might be awake.

      A School House Rocks for the new century, Pirates and Emperors. Bully is as Bully does.

      Bush sucked in the debates because he can't think on his feet! So how does he think ON his feet, in a scripted and filmed speech to people on the front lines, dying for Halliburton's bottom line? You decide: "He tells me it's really hot!"

10/18

      The cats are as sick of this page as I am.

      Speaking of cats, yet another kitten rescue story. Not quite as happy an ending as the others (the other 3 didn't make it), but check out her harlequin coloring. Gorgeous lil' kits.

      Scholars Grapple With Godzilla Legacy

      It's been over 6 months since I got sick of doing this. Yeah, I know, you don't want to hear that. But you don't have to write it. It's passed from "hobby" to "burden," just like the InExOb did.

10/19

      Byron's Blog

      OKAY I TAKE OVER THE WRITING, SINCE MOMMY IS BEING A BIG SOURPERS (THAT'S LIK A SOURPUSS, EXCEPT MOMMY IS NOT A PUSS-YCAT BUT A PER-SON HAHAHAHA THAT IS MY JOKE!!!!!) BUT NOT ME!! I AM ALWAYS HAPPY AND EXCITED AND HEY, WHATS THAT? A BUG? AARRRGGH! I KILL YOU!!!!
      OKAY IT WAS NOT A BUG, IT WAS MY TAIL.
      I HAVE MANY EXCITING THINGS HAPPEN! FIRST I ATE A SPIDER! OH WAIT, I TOLD YOU THAT ALREADY.
      SO ANYWAY. I ATE A COMBO! IT IS LIKE A PRINGLE, WHICH I HAVE ALREADY ATED ONCE, ECXEPT IT IS GOT CHEESES IN THE MIDDLE! AND IT IS SALTY! IT WAS LIKE A CHEESE-FILED SPIDER! ECXEPT REALLY EASY TO CATCH. IT WAS EASY TO EAT CUZ IT WAS BROKENED OPEN.
      MOMMY LEFT THE BAG BY THE COMPUTER SO I STALKED IT VERY WARILY, WHICH IS WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU WANT FOODS THAT MAY GET AWAYS. AND IT GOT AWAYS! MOMMY HID IT IN A CABINET. BUT THEN HE FORGOT THE NEXT DAY AND GUESSS WHAT! I GOT THEM ALL!!!! BUT THEY WERE NOT BROKENED OPEN, AND THEY WERE BIGGER THAN MY MOUTH THAT WAY, SO I JUST SHREDDED THE BAG AND KNOCKED THEM ALL OVRE THE FLOOR.
      SO ANYWAY. I WAS ONTO THE BIGGER GAME NOW! NEXT DAY I WAS ON THE KICHTEN COUNTER AND SAW THE CABINET DOOR WAS OPEN A BITS. IT WAS THE DOOR WHERE THE CATNIP IS KEPT!!!!!!! OH BOY EXCITEMENT WAS MY MIDDLE NAME WHEN I REMEMBERED THAT, ALSO MY FIRST NAME AND LAST NAME AND CONFIRMATION NAME! I BUTTED MY HEA DIN THERE AND GRABBED A SHINY METAL BOX WITH A BOW ON IT BY THE BOW, AND THEN I CRASHED IT TO THE GROUNDS! I JUMPTED AND PICKED IT UP BY THE BOW AND SMASHED SMASHED SMASHED IT! IT DID NOT OPEN I WAS SO MAD!!! MOMMY SAID "YOU'VE GOT THUMBS, USE THEM!" AND I SAID "MY BRAIN DON'T HAVE NO THUMB OPERATING MANUAL YOU SOURPERS!!" (TAHT WAS MY JOKE FROM BEFORE) SO I KEP SMASHING THEN I GOT FURSTRATED AND SAID "HEY WAIT, THIS CAN DOESNT SMELL LIK CATNIPS!" SO I WENT BACK UP AND THERE WAS THE CATNIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
      YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
      AND I PULLED IT DOWN AND WAS THRASHING IT ABOUT IN MY MOUTH AND MOMMY SAID "WHOA, PARDNER! WE DONT WANT CATNIP ALL OVER THE PLACE! LETS ALL HAVE SOME NIP IN A CIVILIZED WAY!" AND ME AND BIG CAT GOT IT IN OUR BOWLS. SHE GOT ALL STONED IN THE HEAD AND WENT TO SLEEP AND I TRASHED THE HOUSE!!!! AND WHAT WAS IN TH CAN??? SOME CAT TREATS THAT WERE SALMON JERKY AND WE GOT TO EAT THOSE TOO AND ME AND BIG CAT WERE ALL PURRY AND BYRON RUUUULES!!!!
      ALTHO MOMMY SAYS TO NEVER USE THE BLINK TAG AGAIN. SORRYY!!

      OKAY THIS IS THE PART OF THE SHOW WEAR THE LINKS IS!!! HERE IS ONE MAX AND LOUIE WHO ARE CATS SENDS ME: SOMETHING ABOUT BUSH OR A TOILET OR JAPAN I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT BUT FLASH DON'T WORK ON MOMMY'S COMPUTER SO I DON'T KNOW! AMX ANDS LOUIE SAY IS FUNNY AND HEY, IF THERE'S TOILETS INVOLVED IT MUST BE.

      AAAAAIIIIOOOOWWWW!!!! IT WAS TIME FOR BLOODCURDLING SCREAM HERE ON THE BYRON SHOW! ALL TALK, ALL CAPS, ALL THE TIME!!!!!!

      SO ANYWAY. MOMMY WANTS THIS KEYRING THINGIE THAT MAKES OTHER PEOPLES TVS GO OFF. I DUNNO, I LIKE THE TV I WATCHE DIT FOR A WHOLE MINUTE LAST NIGHT. THEN I LICKE DMY BUTT. I ADMIT THAT THE LICKING WAS MORE INTERESTING.

      HERE IS A THING YOU WATCH ON THE TV!!!! IT IS CALLED DUNG AND DRAGGINGS AND IT IS THESE CHIX WHO ROLL DICE THEN PRETENDS TO FIGHT MONSTERS. OH BOY, MUST-PEE TV!! HAHAHA THAT IS MY SECOND JOKE!! UNLESS YOU COUNT USING THE SAME ONE TWICE, THEN ITS MY THIRD. OR--BECAUSE ITS A POOPY SHOW--MY "TURD"! HAHAHA THAT IS LITTER BOX HUMOR IT MAY GO OVER THE HEADS OF PERSONS.
      I COULD MAKE A GOOD FITER IN THAT GAME! I WOULD BE ALL "AAARRGGH! I DESTROY YOU MONSTER AND ALSO EATS YOU GOBBLE GOBBLE BURP!" BUT WHITE CAT IS SCARED OF EVERYTHING LIKE VACUUMS AND PERSONS IN THE HALLWAY AND THUNDER, SO SHE WOULD HAVE TO BE THE CHICKEN SOCCERER...SAUSERER...MAGIC GUY WHO GOES "I HITS YOU WITH SPELL OF NO FRISKIES IN THE BOWL!! OR LITTER THAT YOU CANT SHAKE OFF YOUR PAWS!!" WHICH ARE SCARY SPELLS. THE MOMMY, I DONT KNOW HE WOULD DO. IS THEIR A CHARACTER CLASS CALLED "WHINY OLD FART"? HAHAHAHA THERES A NOTHER JOKE. (IM JUST KIDDING MOMMY, CUZ YOU CAN OPEN THE FOOD CABINETS AND THAT IS A MIGHTY POWER)

      NOTE TO PILOT: GUN THE ENGINE AND FLOOR IT!!! SQUISHY SQUISH!

      SO ANYWAY. HERES A SITE WITH THEME SONGS FOR 80S TV SHOWS WHICH IS CRAZY! I WAS NOT ALIVE IN THE 80S AND NOT EVEN WHITE CAT WHO IS OLD WAS THEN, IN FACT IM SURE THAT THE EARTH WASNT INVENTED UNTIL 1999 ANYWAY. AND MOMMY SAYS THERE ARE NO CARTOONS SO WHO CARES, THEY DONT EVEN HAVE AUNTIE JESSICA'S FAVORIT SHOW "JEM" AND HOW MANY VERSIONS OF "AIRWOLF" DO YOU NEED ANYWAY?

      OKAY THATS IT FOR THE BYYYYRON SHOOOOW! I NEED TO GO SLEEP IN SOME INAPPROPRIATE PLACE WHERE MOMMY MIGHT STEP ON ME NOW! I SAY "PEACE OUT" CUZ I DONT LIKE TO EAT THE PEAS. OUT, STUPID PEAS!!!! I WANT COMBOOOOOOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

10/20

      Kill Kill's Journal:

      Yes, the bigfooted boy and his BLOODCURDLING SCREAM!!! How do you people STAND that?! I hear it every day. No wonder he talks in ALL CAPS, because he really DOES talk in all caps. I used to run to his aid, thinking he'd broken his tail. Now, he's just sca-reaming for whatever reason. And he wonders why my nerves are on edge.
      He attempted to repeat his "get the catnip" fiasco today. He opened another kitchen cabinet (which I can do, and do better, but choose not to, out of decorum) and smacked a bag of Fritos down to the floor. Apparently, even his synaptically-chaotic brain understood that Fritos are not Combos. Thus Mater was freed from the sight of a bag of corn chips spread about the house.
      He ate chicken skin again! How disgusting! I was quite happy with a fistfull of cat treats.
      Fistfull. Fistful. They both look wrong, don't they?

      Oh, let us indulge in some links on the "Internets," as a human far less intelligent than me called "its." Oh ho, it's the CATkins Diet, oh ha ha. This story only exists so that they could use that "joke." Hey, maybe the cat lost half his weight because he's starving to death! At least he's not getting any carbs! (I myself thought that they were called English muffins because they hailed from across the pond--but I guess that they don't eat them there, and assume that French fries are forbidden in Paris. They just eat "tins of meat," so thanks for giving stupid idiots here in the Colonies the idea of putting their kitties on diets of pure SPAM)

      Enjoy the Draft, a site that is jocular, except in the way that it isn't.

      YES, I know that the screaming madman grey cat is funnier. But do you really want to
      READS A PAGE WHAT LOOKS LIK THIS EVRY DAYS??!?!?!?!?
      YES YO DOOOOO!!! SKREAMS WAY LOUD DO IT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!!!
      Get off the keyboard, grey cat! It's not fair! You have more toes and can type faster!!

10/21

      Byron, Killsy--Thanks for filling in!

      Today began with me accidentally dumping a teaspoon of stinky tuna Friskies on myself. Err, I hope that "accidental" wasn't really needed in the previous sentence. It's not like I'd want a voluntary full-body immersion in that stanky crap.
      That was the cats' breakfast. My lunch, as usual, was a Wendy's Caesar side salad eaten in my car, where I can listen to classical music and read magazines at a peaceful cul-de-sac near work. A crouton fell from my salad and got all icky on the car floor. Even Space Ghost would not get "all crou-tingly!" eating that, so I decided to donate it to the birds. I rolled down my window and hurled the crouton. It hit the door frame and ricocheted back into the car, spraying drops of salad dressing on my glasses. Stupid crouton, now I hate you! I thought as I re-flung it. From Hell's heart, I spit at thee! I said, putting on my Ricardo Montalban KHAN!! wig.
      Then a truck ran it over. I felt better.
      It could've been worse. Some really old fart bought Lottery tickets and...I dunno, maybe he was cleaning his attic or garage or opening King Tut's Tomb, but he had a dangly thing on his face. Cobwebs, with 2 spider eggs, swinging off his left cheek. One of those "EWWW!" things you just CAN'T. TAKE. YOUR. EYES. OFF. OF. And yet, you must look away! Seriously, "You've got something on your cheek" just doesn't cover it.
      I didn't tell him because I really liked the last chapter of Charlotte's Web. FLY, cheek spiders, FLY!

      This was in the local paper, but there's no link. SO ANYWAY. A guy was arrested for drunk driving in Manchester, the next town over. (I skipped to his name, thinking it might be Poopie Pants, but oddly, it wasn't). Police began to suspect him when he pulled up to the drive-thru of a McDonalds and placed an order. At 3AM, when it was closed. He then began screaming at the speaker, then drove over the curb. When pulled over, the officers gave him a sobriety test--in which he fell over and gashed himself. "I can't do this!" he said of the test. "I'm too drunk!" So they stopped the test, out of fear for his safety. He wasn't just drunk, he was so drunk he couldn't take the drunk test!
      Blood alcohol level: Nearly 3 times the legal. Look for that story soon in News of the Weird.

      From this week's News of the Weird (Houston, we have segue!):

      Jessica's husband's name is...Ronald C. Lesniak. In an age when employers regularly Google the names of prospective employees, this qualifies as Not Good.
      So, to keep things clear, Ronald C. Lesniak, 28, of Massachusetts is a COMPUTER PROGRAMMER and DEVOTED HUSBAND AND FATHER. He is not Ronald G. Lesniak, 60, of Chicago, Illinois, an accused PERV.
      Google is the reason I'm glad I have a bland name like "Bill Young."

10/24

      I have nothing, being very busy with the Gonterness on the Comments. So I leave you with one of my fave links from exactly 2 years ago, "We are the Space Robots."

10/26

      I spent the weekend sick with a stomach bug that made me long for the halcyon days of Young's Syndrome. Which explains why I didn't post.

      Genetically altered pet cats. For real?

      Yeah, I suck no matter what my excuses are. I suck so much that here's another Summer Rerun, long since Summer's End. And not even from this page!

10/28

      It's the Week of Hell at the Store. We're moving! The entire store. $350K in inventory, one breakable bottle at a time.
      We need to do this. Our current location is a shoebox. If someone wants a case of wine from the backroom/utility closet, it takes 3 minutes to find it, 5 to dig it out from under the stack, then 5 more to build the stack back up again so the rest of the stacks don't collapse. The store itself runs over the same rules as my elementary school: Single File Under The Lights. Only one person can squeeze by down an aisle at a time.
      We're extremely lucky to have Dave working for us. He's a retired engineer, and the construction company is made up of unretired retards. "BLOOprint? Is just funny drawin's! Me no like, build wall...uhh...DUUUHHH...here!" And they tried to do just that--build a wall, which wasn't on the blueprints, that cut the beer coolers off from the rest of the store. WHY would we do THAT? Does your house have a wall closing off your bathroom? But Dave caught that, and you can actually buy beer in our store!
      The ex-bank had a ladies and men's bathrooms. We didn't need that, so they were supposed to knock down the exterior wall and remove one bathroom. "DUHH...which way hold up blooprint?! THIS way, hee-YUCK!" And they knocked down the INterior wall and removed a bathroom. We now have a one-toilet bathroom with 2 bathroom's worth of useless space. Maybe we'll install a hot tub!

      Here's a headline you don't see every day: Neutron Activation Analyses Proves Oswald Acted Alone In JFK Assassination

      "Arnold planned to return today to look again for the cat, and she's asking area residents to be on the lookout for a medium-sized dark feline with a hairless rear end."

      Is this the skull of an ALIEN, or a really Phrackin' deformed human? The jury's out for the moment, but that's sure one freaky looking skull.

      Just another Florida Bush-voter... Rove'll prly try using this right at the polls. "Show me your voter registration, or EAT SCREWDRIVER!" And I'm really not joking about that. This election isn't about how Bush will lose (he will), it's about how far they'll go to steal it.

      "You people of Earth have horny minds! HORNY! HORNY!!" Lost Ed Wood porn movie released

      Overly pom-centric but worth the giggle: The Guardian's ten worst cover songs I've only even heard one (I have the Candyflip CD), but, crimeny--"911 is a Joke" given the Duran Duran treatment?!

10/31

      Moving an entire liquor store isn't fun, but it wasn't that bad. Except for the "get up at 7AM" part. Subtract 4 hours from your normal alarm l time, and you've got a good approximation of how I felt this morning. Even the cats didn't want to get up. Although Byron decided that an hour before I was to stumble from slumber was a good time to bitch-slap dishes in the sink. Praise Gourd for Daylight Savings ending this exact day; that reduced it to 3 hours early.
      The night before, I'd managed to con Gina into letting me go home an hour early. By skipping 3 lunch breaks and having to work 7 hours today UNPAID. G herself sauntered in 45 minutes late. Hell, if I knew that that was an option...!
      I was fueled by a Red Bull and a Boston Creme doughnut. GO BOSTON! The Sox did it, and Kerry'll do it next.
      I'd tell you all my interesting stories about the move, if there were any. I will say that we'd better get that damn conveyor belt to the 2nd story soon, as walking up 18 steep stairs with a load of boozeocity gets painful after a while. I expect my upper legs to feel like they'd been in an explosion at the acupuncture factory tomorrow.
      The most interesting thing was that a bottle popped. When they POP! that means that they spontaneously explode on their own. And nobody found out what popped. No gushing flow of liquor, and everybody looked every which way at once--the sound seemed to come from every direction. I TOLD them that they shouldn't have built the store on that Indian burial ground!

      Magic Goes to War. "To cover every known instance of the magical arts being pressed into service in times of war would require a book of prodigious size, so in this article I am going to cover only a few instances..." Crimeny. If this article is any indication, I'd buy that damn big book.

      Of COURSE it's NEVER about ANYTHING with I suddenly quote song lyrics. Please, indulge an old man.

11/2

      Okay, so I'm a day late. Here's some awesome old Halloween costumes. Lots of pics, but a quick read.

      Are you spending Election Day crossing your fingers for luck and touching wood? Here's why.

      I'm so close to my polling place, that I normally leave a whopping 5 minutes for voting. With all the Rethuglican drive-away-the-vote creepiness going on, I'm giving myself 30 minutes. They don't have the financial resources to fund vote-stopping in a Blue state, but that doesn't mean some halfwitted redneck protofascist isn't going to try.
      Leave yourself extra time to vote. The future of America--and the World--depends on it.

11/2

      Well, there's nothing more that I can do than hit reload on cnn.com for the rest of the night...every five minutes...
      I didn't need the extra half-hour to vote today. Although, for the first time ever, I stood in a line. A five-minute line to be sure, but my usual wait is no minutes.
      I wore a solid blue shirt and my old "WE NEED YOU Franklin D Roosevelt" button. I wear it every presidential election. My favorite time was when I was voting to escape the First Bush Recession (the "It's the Economy, Stupid" election). One of the local candidates came up smiling to greet me. He looked to be in his 70s. He saw the FDR button and his smile faded into dismay. He got the reference. He was the Republican candidate. And his name was Hoover.
      He, and Bush, lost. And we had a boom economy and a balanced budget! For 8 years! Until the next incompetent with that curs`d surname.
      Of course, even if Kerry wins in a landslide, expect Bush to lawyer up and try to force this back to the the Supreme Court again. And "win" the "election" with only 5 votes again.

      Great! Here's another link that everyone says is great that I can't see on my crappy Pookie: Ploy Story, or the Iraq invasion as acted by Pixar characters. Crimeny, why do they always give every viewing option except Quicktime?

      In news that might be related to tomorrow's election results, Cthulhian squid-demons are taking over the Earth because of global warming. Cthulhu Ry'leh Ftagn Kyoto...however it goes.

      It's tough to get a date when you're a Mad Scientist. The best part is about the pony.
      

      


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