AND WE HEAR THAT AUSTRIAN-AMERICANS HAVE BIG MOUTHS
She’s either Puerto Rican, or the same thing as Cuban, I mean they are all very hot. They have the, you know, part of the black blood in them and part of the Latino blood in them that together makes it.
--California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, on California assemblywoman Bonnie Garcia, the lone Latina Republican in the Legislature
It went about as I expected. I whisked through the front door, cat carrier in hand, straight past the baffled cats and into the bedroom, and shut the door. I let DJ out of the carrier on the bed, grabbed the camera, and
...well, nice talking to you, DJ. He vanished. Well, his foster mom did that he was "an explorer, he loves to hide." I set up his litter box, food and water, and he didn't reappear. Byron began scratching at the door almost immediately (his big, nonretractable claws make a much different sound than Killsy's tiny razors of death). After 20 minutes, I left with the carrier and put it on the floor for the kids to check out. Byron waltzed right in, sniffed around, and exited unperturbed. Kill Kill slowly slinked up, gave it a sniff and a loud hiss, then retreated to the living room to scowl at me. When Byron entered her field of vision, she hissed even more. "YOU brought another HIM in here, DIDN'T YOU!" I tried explaining to her that DJ was here to bother Byron, and take the pressure off of her. After a pause for DJ to reorient himself, I went back in the bedroom and found him
...relaxing on a pile of old clothes on the floor of the closet. Not scared, just chillin'. He had the Happy Cat Face with the squinting eyes. His foster mom also said "If you can catch him, he loves nothing more than a good pet, and he purrs his wee heart out!" I scratched his teeny head and he purred louder than any cat I've ever heard, and Byron's purr can be mistaken for a passing motorboat. I began to play with him using a piece of cord from some old cat toy, and a series of terribly-framed photos resulted.
That, actually, would be the best of them. He kept purring as we played. I eventually coaxed him down to the floor
YES that is cat litter on the carpet, and not from his new litter box. Also, a small host of old cat toys, which he played with in turn. While purring. Loudly, and continuously.
"I find this particular scrap of crud on your filthy floor--fascinating!"
Then we roughhoused a bit (he purred) and then he got a pet/belly rub on my legs. While purring. He discovered his food bowl, and began eating. WHILE PURRING. He purred without a break for FORTY SOLID MINUTES. Amazing. I've never known a cat to purr that much, and I know Jessica's happy man Majoriam. Then I put him on the bed to see what he'd do. He ran around a bit, then did what he did the first time: jumped off and disappeared. I haven't seen him since. Meanwhile, outside the door: When I first found him in the closet, Byron battered down the door after ripping the carpet up in an attempt to burrow in. Since he seemed only to want to check out the lil' guy, not moiderize him, I let him poke around. He immediately found his helpless prey, and ruthlessly pounced!...on the bowl of kitten food. It seemed like he was going to eat the whole damn thing, so out, damned splutcat! Killsy's mood moderated over the evening. Maybe she was thinking that DJ will never leave the bedroom, good riddance, or she recalled that life with Byron was actually better than it was without him. Right now, everything is normal, except for the bedroom door being shut. I still can't find DJ--I caught a glimpse when I opened the door once, but he bolted under the bed, so I'll just let him be until bedtime. DJ will stay inside the bedroom until Friday afternoon or Saturday morning, but I think everything is going to go smooth as silk, or as smooth as that cat fur that gets all over you when you pet them.
6/3
LET’S LEARN FROM BASKETBALL PLAYERS!
Chemistry is a class you take in high school or college where you figure out 2+2=10 or something.
--basketball player Dennis Rodman
Oddly, Kill Kill now seems to be the one less annoyed by DJ's existence. Maybe she thinks he'll be in the bedroom forever. Byron keeps staring at the door. He was right by it when I went in this morning, so I left it open to see what would happen. He crawled in, in such glacially slo-mo that I thought he was trying to reach him by continental drift. I picked DJ up and placed him in Byron's view. DJ arched his back and puffed out his tail. Byron hissed at him 3 times, which is 3 times more he's hissed at anyone who's not a vet in his whole life. Then he ran out. DJ followed him, but I decided that today was not the day for introductions. Friday night or Saturday morning, I think. Don Juan is a good name for him. He's quite the lover boy. He purrs the entire time I'm with him, from the second I walk in the door. Maybe it's because I'm not always in there (as that would not be a good way to prep the other kids into accepting him). He plays happily with the toys in there, then breaks for play with me--sometimes stopping from biting me to licking me--to pets, then back to play. And he purrs when he eats, something I thought only Killsy did, and something she does only when I'm petting her at the same time. He pounced me a few times during the night and I played a bit, but not enough that he gets the idea that 3AM is happy fun time. He has a bit more orange tabby in him then I thought; he has stripes on the end of his tail, and 4 on his face, including half of a forehead M. And freckles on his nose. You can kinda see it here, using the time-honored kitten camera close-up trick of dangling the wrist strap in the face:
He certainly has that legendary "I luvz evryonez!" OT personality. Most kittens won't offer their bellies up for rubs during the first few hours with their new human. I was planning on doing multiple things outside the house today, but decided against being gone too long, and so split them in 2. I went to BIG!Lots, prly for the last time. Not a single item of interest. Upon seeing the shelves and shelves of analog TV antennas--even if they were free, what good are they after next Tuesday?--I thought "that's the most useless thing I'll see here today." That was before I saw the multiple copies of a VHS tape titled "Y2K: The Millenium Bug." Blurb on back: "Is it a tempest in a teapot? Or the collapse of civilization?" If it was the latter, you came to the right place to stock up on bottled water and toilet paper--BIG!Lots brand toilet paper. Which made me think "Wow, they've invented half-ply TP." There's a Dollar Tree in the same plaza, so I looked for more Speed Racer Hot Wheels. Out of the 24, I now have 23. I bought an umbrella, which I'm sure won't last in the wind, but it can't be any worse than the last cheap one I bought, which will last forever as it can't be opened. And, as a joke for Jessica--
That's not the one I got. Mine's worse.
My parents had a big History of Art coffee table book, light on history but thick with pictures, and one of them was of a realistic painting of a pipe titled "This Is Not A Pipe." It made me mad! Of course it's a pipe! That's not art, that doesn't even make sense! It bothered me enough that later I went back to the book and saw that it was from a movement called "Dadaism." Looking that up in the family encyclopedia, I found out that it was a satire of art, and as a kid raised on MAD magazine, I immediately was intrigued. I looked at the picture that accompanied the article: a clothes iron with carpet tacks soldered to the base. It was titled "The Gift." And I laughed. I'd been given useless gifts like that myself! Like a belt buckle, with no belt attached. That's like giving a Jiffy Lube gift certificate to someone who doesn't own a car. I became a big fan of Dada. 20 years ago, there was a traveling exhibition of Dadaist works at the Hartford Atheneum, and I knew that I wasn't going to get a chance to see this stuff, for real and up close, ever again. I stood and stared at some of the first and most famous creations of Dada, such as the aforementioned Ceci n'est pas une Pipe (it's not a pipe, it's a painting of a pipe!) and Fountain, Duchamps "sculpture" of a urinal. It was art because he signed his name to it. That's hilarious. But was there another, unnoticed level to the joke?
The influence of Duchamp's readymades on 20th-century art is incalculable. Without Duchamp, would Jasper Johns have painted flags and targets? Would Andy Warhol have made his Brillo boxes? Would there be any Conceptual Art at all? Well, take a deep breath and imagine art without the readymade. Last month, Art News reported that Rhonda Roland Shearer, an artist, had been trying for two years to prove that Duchamp's readymades are not really mass-produced objects. She thinks he altered or made them all, then cunningly covered up the evidence to create a time-release surprise. To Ms. Shearer, this is like discovering that ''there was no historical Jesus." ...There is more: the bird cage is too squat for a real bird, the iron hooks in the photograph of the coat rack appear to bend in an impossible position, the French window opens the wrong way, the bottle rack has an asymmetrical arrangement of hooks and the urinal is too curvaceous to have come from the Mott Iron Works, where Duchamp said he bought it.
An interesting piece of art history detective work. And the jokes are now even more hilarious!
6/4
SCI-FI DIALOGUE, QUITE A BIT SCINTILLATING
Miyamoto: Nothing beats a good hot bath! How did they know where to drill for water on the moon, Captain? Captain Sano: This isn’t water, it’s man-made. Miyamoto: What’s the difference? Captain Sano: Quite a bit.
--The X From Outer Space (1967)
Failed to mention from yesterday's Dollar Tree trip: It's disconcerting to hear someone talking aloud to herself in public, but it's even more so in the cutlery section, when she's holding a knife she's taken out of the package and says "This is really sharp...just what I need!"
DEAR ASK DJ: DJ, I am a kitten, newly adopted. The human lets me sleep in his bed, but I don't know the proper protocol! How should I act?--signed, Dewormed but not DeWorried
Dear Deworried: If your person lets you sleep in the bed, he must really like you! So you just like him back! Sleep close to him! No, closer than that! CLOSER! You must feel bare skin on your fur! Have you ever heard a human say "Boy, that guy's feet smell!"? Obviously, if human feet can smell, then the feet must be where their noses are! Yes, I know it's strange, but they wear "clothes" and have "jobs," so anything is possible! So if the only bare skin you can find is his face, feel free to cover his mouth and nose-looking thing with your body! It may tickle him a bit, which is why by the end of the night, he'll end up almost falling off the other side of a king-sized bed. Humans do not know how to properly clean themselves. I have not seen this rumored "shower" that they take, so it must be a myth. Imagine you or me willingly going into WATER! Help them when they sleep by showing them how it's done properly. Lick them with your wonderfully raspy sandpaper tongue! The nose-like thing is good, as our tongues are excellent exfoiliants. Don't forget the lips! ESPECIALLY clean the lips! The tingle means it's working!--yours, DJ
Tuesday, DJ would run every time I opened the bedroom door, until he was sure it was me. Wednesday he'd be waiting for me to come in and play with him. This morning, BANG, out he ran into the Outside World. As his foster mom told me, he's very fast and hard to catch. And it went over SWELL. Angry hissing and vicious growling from the others. I don't know whom I was more disappointed with; Byron, for acting like Killsy did when he was a kitten, while DJ acted like he did then, just wanting to be friends with the older cat, or Kill Kill, who, unsatisfied with hissing, walked right up and took a swing at the poor guy. Everytime I'd open the door, out he'd bolt out and the dramarama began anew. I hung my trenchcoat over the door knob to slow him down, put him on the far side of the bed, then ran for the door. Which wouldn't close! What a time for it get stuck! And stuck on, what? I looked down, and there was DJ, getting squished. (don't worry; he's fine)
I did one of the things that I didn't do yesterday and went to Up. I saw something horrifying in the parking lot: 3 empty school buses. I made sure to ask before I bought my ticket, but no, they were about to leave (in retrospect I assume that they saw a special screening of Earth). I saw it in 3D--why not, as there were 4 times as many showings as the 2D. I got to spend $11.75 for a matinee (or not; I used a gift card I got on my birthday), and was treated to 10 minutes of ads. Ads for what? Got me, I've already forgotten! Nice waste of your money, cinema advertisers! The ads were followed by a preview for a pretty dire and unfunny-looking Eddie Murphy picture (wow--unfunny Eddie Murphy comedy, there's a surprise!) and then a bunch of 3D trailers. Maybe if they had made those ads in 3D, I would've remembered them. And save your money. 3D is a joke unless the whole movie is planned for 3D, as the trailer for Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs was (what, there were mammals first, then dinosaurs? Is their target audience Creationists who view the Flintstones as a documentary?). Up was pretty good. But pretty good Pixar is better than 99% of movies, so I can live with that. The plot arc was no surprise, but it was fun and exciting, and even touching in the wordless montage near the beginning. You could wait until the DVD, but if you love you some Pixar, you might want to see it on the big screen. In 2D. If you see only one movie this year with a broadsword versus senior walker fight, let it be this one!
When DJ purrs as he's eating (and he purrs no matter what he does), his last 3 swallows sound almost exactly like "yum yum yum!"
6/5
FUNNY, WE WOULD HAVE PICKED MUSSOLINI
Radio host Richard Bacon: What artist had a blue period? Contestant: Stalin?
Today's weather was to be the best of my vacation, which was perfect, as it was the day Jessica and I were to go antiquing in Putnam. Then the forecast changed: it was to be the worst day. But she changed her plans, too, instead wanting to visit DJ, as she's met all my kids when they were kittens. I would meet her in Sturbridge, pick her up and drive her here, since she's not allowed to drive more than half an hour due to her narcolepsy. I got up earlier than I needed, which was good, as it gave me time to check my email. As soon as I saw a message from Jessie, I knew what it was. Her symptoms were really bad this morning, so that was the end of the visit (for now). Without anything else to do, I decided to do part 3 of the original 1-part trip from Wednesday. I'd go to the state park before the rain started, then go to a third Dollar Tree to see if I could find that 1 elusive Speed Racer Hot Wheels car, then register my free membership pass at BJ's Warehouse Club. I was going to get gas in Sturbridge, as it's usually 10-15 cents a gallon cheaper than here, but BJ members get cheap gas, too. I left the house the moment it started raining, so the park was out. I headed to Dollar Tree but drove right past the exit. I got off at the next one, then back on towards the highway, then remembered you can't get to the Dollar Tree exit from that direction either. Okay, so I'll do things in the opposite order. Good thing I'm getting cheap gas, as all I'd done so far was waste it. And BJ's was more than it was right on the corner of my street! Well, I'm here, might as well not waste more gas, just go to customer service and register...in this line of 6 people with 1 clerk working. Goodbye. I went to Dollar Tree, and hoped that I didn't find that "Snake Oiler with Jump Jacks" Hot Wheel. Their line had 1 clerk and was 12 people long. But they had the greatest amount of the cars I've seen, and they looked largely unshopped. Maybe because they were pegged from the floor to 7 feet off the ground. I used to manage a toy store, and you know, I didn't merchandise thinking that the children were mutant Watusi giants. But all I had to do was to tip the cars slightly sideways to read what they were. I tried standing on the shelf base while supporting myself on the next shelves, but those were made of cheap, flimsy plastic. A ladder was stupidly sitting out on the floor in plain view with no employees around...I could grab that, then fall off and sue for a MILLION Hot Wheels! No, there has to be a better way--hey, some brat tore open a toy sword and shield set! I used the plastic sword (more of a gladius, really) to tip the cars. YES! I had successfully wasted more gas by coming here for nothing! I went home, gassed up cheaper than I could at BJ's, bought some delicious Indian takeout, and decided to give DJ a trial run outside of the bedroom. A whole lotta hissing was going on, but Killsy is clearly getting a bit more tolerant of him, especially after he rolled over and submissively showed her his belly. Byron wants nothing to do with him. He just so wants to be friends with the big cats, and doesn't understand that it doesn't have to happen right now. But unlike Byron, he clearly knows his boundaries. He'll push them, but he so far he hasn't crossed them. I expect by the end of my vacation all will be well in my expanded family.
6/6
THE DONALD, GREAT GEOPOLITICAL INSIGHTS FROM
You know, the one thing I sorta liked was what they were saying about Iran. I believe you have to go in and strike Iran—not with soldiers. You know, it’s not a world of soldiers anymore. It’s a world of air. It’s a world of different kinds of, you know, we’ve changed.
--businessman Donald Trump, on a speech by President George W. Bush
DJ was still wide awake after 4 hours of the World Outside the Bedroom last night, which is a long time for a kitten. I picked him up to bring him into the bedroom. He squirmed a bit, then rolled on his back in my arms, purring estactically. Did you ever have a day as a little kid that was the most fun imaginable? You ran and played and laughed and never wanted it to ever end, but eventually it had to. You kept talkling about it excitedly all the way home, your brain still racing ahead of your exhausted body. You protested going to bed, but you were asleep almost as soon as you were tucked in, and the last thing you said before sleep was "That was the best day ever!" and you said that because it was true? That was the look in DJ's eyes as I laid him down. He was off to Dreamland almost immediately.
Today was the first full day of Outside. He'll go into the closed bedroom with me tonight, and will prly briefly go back when I go to the Farmer's Market tomorrow, but after that, no doors. He got hissed at a lot today. Less and less from Killsy, but just as much from Byron. His deafness is working against him again; he looks around for DJ, but always scans the floor, not hearing him as another cat would. And so he never knows when DJ will pop up right next to him. DJ spent all day approaching the cats with a complete "HEY YOU LOOK REALLY COOL I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND!!!" attitude, then retreating when they hissed. Or in Byron's case, gargrissed. His normal meow is the dreaded hi-decibel Byron Siren, so his deaf-cat hiss is a growl mixed with a hiss with a weird gargling noise at the end, like something out of a horror movie. DJ knows when to back off, but not when to stop. He's persistent, and persistence can win in the end.
Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
6/7
WE’RE NOT QUITE FOLLOWING THIS
That’s the first time I’ve seen a Haslam on a black Ducati since his father Ron rode a black Norton.
--racing commentator Barry Nutley
Last night was the first time the bedroom door's been left open since Tuesday. DJ came to me already diurnal, so he goes to bed when I do and wakes up when I do. Just as Killsy and Byron used to do, *effusive and nostalgic sigh* (actually, Byron still does it October through May). It was breakfast time, when the wet food is served, and all 3 gathered in close proximity for the first time. DJ buried his face in his food, and Killsy buried her tongue in his ass. Well...that's gross, but also progress. Then she ate, but kept stopping to hiss and growl. Dude, you just tossed his salad, and now you're mad at him? Deej ignored her because FOOOD! Byron gave DJ's butt a close inhale, the only physical contact he's has with him. Progress! DJ got to see first hand the horror that is THE SHOWER, running away in terror when I turned it on. Then he was closed in the bedroom for maybe the last time, as I'm gong over to Kev and Meg's for a movie tomorrow. I guess maybe I should leave him out. I'll be gone likely for 3 hours, but I need one long dry run before I go back to work. Then I picked up Kev and we went to the Coventry Farmer's Market, open for the first time this year. Not only had he not been to the market, he'd never been to any farmer's market. I parked in the secondary lot without bothering with the main one. I really don't get the American concept of finding the closest parking space on beautiful days like today. "The bright yellow sky-thing, it burns us!" Plus there was a flea market there. The usual detritus from the 80s (Sweet Valley High books) and the 90s (Barbie CD-ROM games). Things that I would've bought during the InExOb days (and now kinda regret not) included a Disney-approved 7 Dwarfs plush. I think it was "Happy," but the crushed-squint eyes and shrieking mouth made him look like the Dwarf they locked in the cottage attic, Derangey. A prescription bottle of something, dated 1932. I turned it over and it was a bottle of whiskey, "bottled no earlier than 1913." In 1932, a scrip was the only way to legally get whiskey. Surprisingly, there was still some brown liquid sloshing around in the bottle. It was called "Golden Wedding," and pictured 2 old fat guys sharing a glass. They had gay weddings even then! There was a lava lamp, missing about a third of its fluid, but it was a dollar, no more than a Speed Racer Hot Wheels! "Don't let it break!" warned the woman I bought it from. "It's full of toxic chemicals! My daughter had one that broke, and we almost DIED!" I nodded, as one should do with people who have no idea what they're talking about. Maybe it was one of those old lava lamps; I'm pretty sure the current ones contain mineral oil and wax, substances not likely to recreate 3 Mile Island or Bhopal. "I'll wrap it up good!" she said, and grabbed a diaper. With a large brown stain on it. "Umm, THANKS, I'll pass on the diaper!" I said hastily. She looked at it and said, "Oh, that's not poops! It's probably barbecue sauce!" She turned to grab a bag and I said to Kev sotto voce: "I don't want to know." The lamp carefully put in the car and used-Pampersless, we went to the market, teeming with white people. (Sorry, these things just suddenly jump out at me, like the disproportionate number of patrons that drove a Prius with an Obama sticker) A Revolutionary War fife and drum corps was performing, as this was the homestead of Nathan "I regret that I have one life to give so that my dad's house can be a farmer's market" Hale. The Hale people were selling a Nathan Hale doll, although it looked like the noose was sold seperately, maybe with the "Nathan Hale Malibu Dream Homestead." We bought lots of good, healthy local food. I got some strawberries, early and small but ripe. The fruit turns up later in the season, but, boy, could you stock up on fresh rutabaga! (Seriously, what is that shit, and who first decided to eat it?) I never spent more than $7 on anything, but I spent $38, as vacations are for splurging, and I got so much that I'll have to go the fridge and see what it was. Of course, I got some Beltane Farm goat cheese. An article in the local free paper on Connecticut artisanal cheeses was how I discovered the market in the first place. Another thing I always get is Salsa Loca hot super-fresh salsa. And you can too, if you want to join their salsa of the month club! For $20 a month. I was planning on buying from a new vendor, Highland Thistle Farms--seriously, I'm half-Scots, so why wouldn't I? They had fresh, free range eggs for about 90 cents a dozen more than the ones at the supermarket. We passed by some poor girl dressed in a chicken bodysuit, and I said "Great, we're at the furry convention." An impulse buy was Snooty Foods garlic herb butter spread, based on the deliciousness of the sample. I hesitated on buying it, wondering what I was going to actually use it for, but logic was trumped by the forces of utter deliciousness. Two booths down, an Italian bakery was making fresh canolis, and Kevin "the Tailor" Sartori's eyes leapt from their sockets. I had a feeling he was going to buy one of everything. I saw some Italian bread, so fresh I could smell it, and realized that I'd just solved my problem on what to use my garlic spread on. Kev got a big loaf of bread with sausage and broccoli baked in--oh, yeah, he was buying plenty, too. Eggs and Beltane brie and fresh kale, whatever that is, some Salsa Loca black bean (I suggested we try the hot salsa, and as I was saying, "Oh, that's good!" he was wincing in pain--I did say it was hot). And we both got some handmade fudge in little restaurant condiment containers. I don't remember what he got, but I got penucchi walnut, which I wish I'd bought 2 of, as I'll save this one in case I see Jessica before vacation's end, as it's her fave. Then we passed someone dressed as a carrot, and I said "Great, now we're at the furry veggie convention." "That's so wrong, " said Kev, "although I admit that I am a bit turned on." "Dude, that's fucked up! If it was asparagus, sure!" There were some old 1930s cars which were cool to look at. The instrument panels consisted of the ignition and a single gauge marked "AMPERAGE." The cars were largely made of wood. We went to the Indian food booth, which I felt bad about avoiding last time, as there was no one in line. But I was buying Indian food later that day at Taj Mahal. That would be the day I found out that Taj had gone out of business. But they were doing well today, and we had chicken tikke masala, the kind with yogurt, so it's not as spicy. The guy filled a standard-sized picnic styrofoam bowl with a lot of basmati rice, making me think well, this is why it's only $5, and then he ladled the chicken on. And ladled. And ladled. I was full when the food was just even with the top of the bowl, so I wrapped it in my napkins and it waits in the fridge. But not tonight. I have so much great food to eat.
You know the old saying: "Nature abhors a vacuum, yet strangely Nature never vacuums whores." Looking at that, maybe only half of that is an old saying. Maybe the rest came from that unfortunate incident when I was beaten with a Hoover by a hooker, I'm not sure. At any rate, where there is a need, someone will rush in and fill that need, or possibly throw an ElektrikBroom at it: You can move your Geocities site to a German free webhoster called JimDo. Nothing I would use, given that I pay for a site already. But the interface is "type your url and click send," so if your grandma or such has an old Geo site, it certainly looks like a viable option.
I think tomorrow I may leave DJ with the other cats when I go to Kev's. It seems unlikely that they'll think "Human's been gone for over an hour! Byron, use your thumbs to open the window and we'll throw DJ out! "YEAH! And when the human's back, we'll just say that he was stolen by dingos!" "Dingos. On the third floor." "...Dingos...with jet packs?" "*sigh* Byron, it'd be best if I did the meowing, 'kay?" We'll prly see Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! finally. We'll either get pizza, or maybe Kev will make some barbecue chicken on his grill! If he does, I'll say "Hold the diapers."
6/8
NO GO IN LIFT
NO MEAL IN LIFT NO DRINKS IN LIFT NO SPIT IN LIFT WHEN DOOR CLOSE NO JUMP IN LIFT DAMES BE CAREFUL GO IN LIFT ALONE NO PRESS NO BUTTON ONLY FLOOR TO GO
--sign in a Spanish elevator
I forgot to mention from yesterday something that (had I remembered a camera) could've gone on Wordsplosion: a sign that read "FRESH ICED CHIA TEA." You drink it from a porcelain head, and then grass grows on your tongue.
I found out why the lava lamp was low on water (yes, I looked it up; it just has water in it, not radioactive cyanide e.coli vomit): the top is loose, so it was from evaporation. I didn't find this out by watching its insides turn to vapor. I found this out 2 hours after placing it on its side on the floor "for safety, so no cat knocks it over." Kevin used to brew his own beer, and has a bottler gadget, so it should be easy to fix.
DJ purrs over everything, but he's been to the vet before and has had shots and blood tests, so when we went for his rabies shot today, I expected his happy demeanor to change. Nope! He purred so much that the vet couldn't hear his heartbeat. She apologized for what she was to do, then blew in his face to stop him. But he kept right on going. "Time for Plan B!" she said, and turned the faucet on. He only discovered the shower yesterday, but he certainly had a bath at some point, so he stopped. His heartbeat was fine, as I could attest from this morning, when in bed he laid on my left ear and purred for 5 minutes, then stopped, and I heard his little ticker lub-dubbing away. He really stopped purring when she gave him his dose of heartworm medicine. "It's banana flavored!" she said. No wonder he didn't like it. He may act like a crazy monkey, but that doesn't mean he eats like one. Try tuna flavor next time. He got it on his nose, his feet, and somehow the cat carrier, which he wasn't even in. He didn't get his rabies shot. This is because he has to be 12 weeks old, not 11 weeks, 5 days (no, seriously). He gets to go back next week, but they waived the office visit fee. He got a Free Parting Gift, a Science Diet starter pack. A 1-lb bag of dry kitten food, 2 cans of wet food, a spiral-bound book and a DVD, both of which will remain unused. It's kitten #3, I know the rules by now. When we got home, both Killsy and Byron hissed and growled in agitation. I think that they thought I'd brought him to Customer Service to demand a refund. I left for the state park for 45 minutes, the only time all 3 had been left alone. Everything was fine on my return. So when I go to Kev and Meg's tonight, he'll stay out. This is the only extended time I'll be gone before I go back to work, so this is the big test. I think we'll all pass.
6/9
FANTASTIC, YES; PROBABLE, NO
Laura, you gotta meet Man-mo-han Singh from India. It’s a democracy with the largest Muslim population in the world, and you know what, there is not a single member of al-Qaeda among them. Isn’t that fantastic?
--President George W. Bush, after bumping into India’s prime minister at an official lunch in Moscow, as quoted in the Financial Times (thanks to Lorne Christensen)
I did something this vacation that I normally don't do: eat crap. Well, the Indian food's pretty low fat and healthy, but not so much the pu-pu platter and the bacon cheeseburger pizza. But I had coupons! I can get extra meals from them for cheap! Today I went to Friendly's for a "Munchie Mania." Do you think that they had a particular demographic in mind when they named it that? And wonder if most of the sales come after 9PM? But I had a COUPON! The first time I got one, I split it with Kevin, and it was exactly enough food for 2 people. The next time we had it, it was not enough food. They kept the price the same, but must've shrunk the portions. Both times we called the order in not only was it done when we arrived, it was already getting cold. So I decided to order it when I got there, eat half now and finish the rest off later. "It'll take about 5 minutes," she said. I wasn't wearing a watch, but there was a bank time and temperature sign across the street, and it took 12 minutes. Well, at least it'd be hot! As my food was going to the bag, one clerk started a conversation with the cashier bagging it about funions, which I think is a bunion you get on your face. Why was this holding up my dang food? The bagger opened the container, while the other read the menu and said "You're right, you're right--no waffle fries." The bagger apologized and said that I was supposed to get onion rings, it'll be a couple more minutes, but they'll be free. I thought, if this wait was for anything but onion rings, I'd just say "Thanks, I'm good" and leave. I was hungry by now, and opened up my meal for a nosh. Umm...this is a lot of food, and the waffle fries have cheese and bacon on them. I guess that they increased the portions, after howls of red-eyed, mellow outrage from buzzkilled stoners. I made it about a third of the way through it. If I get 2 meals out of this, it'll be a bargain, but I don't think all of this will reheat well. Ever see a McDonald's fry 30 minutes out of the heat lamp? Shrivels up like an earthworm in the rain.
I'm surprized that I was able to eat as much as I could, given that a hour before I'd seen Unusual Canned Foods from Around the World. There's a few you may have seen before, like the cheeseburger-in-a-can that made the rounds a few years back, but almost all of these are new to me. An InExOb once mentioned the potential horror of whole canned chicken, and now you can see the horror made real. And I hope that's the "good" cholesterol in those canned pig brains.
It only took 25 years of trying, but yesterday I saw Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! I can see why it's a cult classic. It's ludicrously over the top, with screaming sports cars, male characters that are either insane or wimps, and women with long histories of lower back pain:
The dialogue is so overwrought that it almost seems like it's deliberate. IMDB has a page of quotes, but if they included every insane line that no human would ever utter, it'd just be the whole script. There's nobody in it who can't act, just nobody that should. It's a good thing that there's no scenery, as it would be completely chewed by the end of each shot. It's a cheap movie, so cheap that you expect that the close-ups of the "chickies" driving the cars to just be them sitting there while somebody shakes the motionless car. But there's enough shots of their hair blowing in the wind the exact wrong way that you have to wonder how intentional the unintentional humor is. It's trash, nobody behaves like anyone would in real life, and basically every character in it is no smarter than the next closest rock. But it is never boring. In fact, it's very entertaining, and that's the best thing that you can say about a movie. I'd say "See it! " but good luck unless you want to buy it. I'm lucky to know someone who can download these things. I may have waited a quarter century to see it, but I don't need to see it again.
What., 3 days since a kitten pic? What's wrong with me! Before DJ arrived, Byron kindly ripped a hole in the shade I draw at night in the computer room. DJ has been most happy to enlarge it.
I am not sure which end of the kitten is facing which way here.
Unlike Killsy, who has long since learned to ignore the camera, or Byron, who never heard me using it, in the above pic DJ woke up from a silly position and made himself presentable. Dang it! This post took a long time to type! Not because of any deep thoughts, as it was mostly about me buying dinner, but because Mr DJ today discovered that I have a lap. Due to my anti-ergonomically designed pre-computer-era desk, my lap is where my mousepad is, on a book. And anyone with a cat knows that it is psychologically impossible to remove a sleeping feline from your lap without the house, and yourself, being on fire. Eventually he just went schlump to the side of the chair.
He's currently sleeping on my foot. I may never be able to leave this chair again.
6/10
PHEW, THAT’S A RELIEF
ATLANTIC COAST TO REMAIN
--headline in The Patriot-News (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania)
If you ever feel a need to eat a Friendly's Munchie Mania, don't. As filling as you found it yesterday, today you will be filled with only regret.
Jörg Schwarz had recently said "I will die before I eat another turnip!" But that was the entirety of his current options. Another turnip, or death. He could butcher the 2 cows. That last chicken dinner was delicious, but now he missed the eggs. What would his family do without the milk? Or the cheese, he thought, if anyone had the time to wait for cheese. Maybe when it was finally over, there'd be time for cheese. He did not consider himself a simple man, although he was. He had no time for anything but the farm. And his family. And the pub, back then. He had the time to do this modern "voting" then, but it seemed like such a waste of time. And he must've been right. There was no voting, not since the current government had been voted in. He had saved time after all. Turnips were all that would grow, and that's all his family had left to eat. All the family he had left, now that Dietrich had died in Russia, Klaus in Africa, and Karl! Just 14 years old, and just drafted to fight someone somewhere. Jörg knew he'd be the next to be drafted. And what then of his wife Lotte, and tiny Rebekka? Eating turnips as I die, he thought bitterly. He was glad to be in the fields, not listening to the radio at home. He bought it to hear music, but for years it had been "The thieving Jews! The subhuman Reds! The race-traitors of the West!" He had believed it once. When the government changed, the markets became full again. Now--were they empty, or were they destroyed? The Americans destroyed any trains they saw, so maybe the food was left to those lucky enough to escape the bombings. At least I'm in the country, he thought. The British bomb the scheisse out of every city at night, too cowardly to bomb in the daylight. He'd seen warplanes just once, when he went to that party rally before the war. He pointed at a Heinkel bomber and cried to his wife, "Maybe that's the one our boy Wolf is on!" Wolf had died heroically, he was told, over England. He was still proud of him. But not so proud that he wouldn't rather have him here on the farm. He pulled up a turnip. We will survive another day, he thought. The bell on one of the cows began to ring, then the other. What was frightening them? A hum came from above, then became a rumble, then a scream.
From the clouds tore a squadron of fighters. Americans! Jörg fell to the dirt, clutching the turnip. He wasn't sure whether his life or his turnip he valued more at the moment. And the planes, in a seemingly endless line, rushed in grim, remorseless determination eastward. Towards Berlin, he thought. He stood up as the endless line raced above, turnip in hand. The last plane in the line dipped its wings, and the young pilot waved and smiled. Jörg waved back, then caught himself and stopped. What if someone had seen him? Then he realized that in his mind, he'd been waving at Wolf, his eldest child so long dead. He watched the last plane until it disappeared, then listened until the roar of the engines was replaced by silence. He calmly walked to his house, his wife and daughter still hiding in the basement. He placed the turnip on the kitchen table. Then he pulled the plug of the radio from the wall.
Umm, okay, I was just inspired a bit. It's really a picture of a hummingbird. I think my version is better.
Byron suddenly decided that DJ was tolerable last night. Today, he actually played with him. Repeatedly. He even grabbed one of his old crow feathers while DJ was in my lap, played with it, looked at DJ, then left the room. And immediately came back and played some more, then left. He did this 2 more times, stopping only when DJ took the bait and followed him. No growling or hissing ensued. *whew!* And this my last day of vacation! Killlsy likes her tiny Heineken box. Killsy likes to sleep with her head smushed against the inside of the box. The box is green.
So is Killsy's forehead.
6/11
LIKE, NO KIDDING
There was just a study done actually, I saw it on Regis and Kelly. I can’t remember how many hours a year a person uses being in their car in L.A., but it’s, like, a lot of time.
Physiotherapist required for orthopedic rehab clinic. $80,000/hour
--actual classified ad
After every assault on Kill Kill today, DJ got a lecture on how Kill Kill is the Chill Chill and she is Love, if you don't jump on her head like a manic dervish. Even Job had limits to his patience. After too many assaults, he got a 10-minute time out in the bedroom. Once released, he immediately ran up to Killsy in the window. And this is what he did:
He's learning.
6/13
RAT COMPLAINTS, BRIGHT SIDE OF
Rat complaints have gone up, but we look at that as a positive thing, because more people know how to contact us now.
--New York City complaints hotline bureaucrat
DJ has apparently never seen the inside of a bathroom when a human was using the toilet for its intended purpose. He always follows me in and jumps on the edge of the bowl to stare at my pee stream. I really, really expect this to have a negative end result when he either sticks his head in at the wrong moment, or just flops right into the bowl.
I was sorting empty cans at work when I saw some guy, obviously from one of the plaza's restaurants due to his apron, pushing a wheelbarrow to the dumpster with two beyond-dead shrubs in it. They were so brown that if someone flicked a lit cigarette butt into one it'd be instant napalm, but with a refreshing pine scent. Since Saturday is always Redemption Day, 10 minutes later I was sorting more cans when I saw the same guy taking the bushes out of the dumpster and wheeling them back. I don't have a funny line about this, because I have no idea what the hell this meant. Maybe they were going to replant the bushes and hope for insurance money from arson.
6/14
SAY THAT AGAIN, PLEASE?
People’s perception of a chairman’s job is not the same as they think it is.
--Dave Edwards, Radio 5 Live (UK)
A surprisingly quiet day in the Young family household. There was hissing, there were slaps to the forehead. But it was mostly peaceful, and there was also DJ sleeping in the living room sun only a yard away from Killsy and Byron, who were sleeping with Bigfoot's tail touching the Small White's heinie. The baby steps continue. But even the smallest step is one that moves everything else forward.
Beause I loves me the Dollar Tree, $25 at the Dollar Tree. Gets funnier as it goes along. Slime Egg, wow, what a great toy. (If the article inspires you to go to Dollar Tree, remember that I need a Hot Wheels Speed Racer Snake Oiler with Jump Jacks, and a Grey Ghost with Saw Blades. I'm willing to pay TWICE what you'll pay for each for them!)
THINGS WE SUSPECT MS. JOHNSON WOULDN’T WANT ANNOUNCED IN THE CHURCH BULLETIN
Ms. Johnson will be entering the hospital this week for testes.
--church bulletin listing
I was under the impression that cats are immune to The Nip until 6 months of age, so I decided to give Killsy and Byronus Bigfoot some tonight, something Junior wouldn't understand. DJ, having tasted turkey breast!!! in italics with 3 exclamation points earlier, was eager to see what it was. So I gave him some too. Like his elder siblings, he gobbled it down. Then also became mellow, then flopped asleep. Not next to my leg, but right across my lap, which he has never done before. And stayed there for an hour. Eventually one has to pee, and I did my best to carefully shunt him aside. But I dropped the mouse and the mousepad and the book that the mouse and mousepad sit on in my lap, and he awoke. And went immediately back to sleep. Having finished my bathroom duty, he's just climbed back onto to my lap. And seems about to fall asleep. note to self: this is only observation; insert anecdote's punchline here later, should one occur
6/16
STATEMENTS, SUPERFLUOUSLY STUPID
Willy Harris will bat for himself this inning.
--Red Sox announcer Jerry Remy (thanks to Dave Boudreaux)
June Sixteenth! Happy Tenth birthday, Kill Kill! Happy Sixth, Byron! No tuna this time, just lots and lots of catnip. This is because that given DJ's first reaction to leftover pizza today--it seemed that he would kill just for the crust, trying to bat Byron away from his prize--his first reaction to tuna may rend the Earth from its orbit and send it spiralling into the Sun, DJ purring all the way. Catnip fiends fall into 2 categories, rollers or eaters. Killsy and Byron are eaters. They gobble it down, either get briefly frisky or chill, then sleep. I thought that 6 months was the age when kittens first get into nip, but we disproved that yesterday with only a pinch. If he had plenty, would DJ be an eater or a roller?
He's BOTH! Surprisingly, Byron watched him, them found some of his remaining nip and rolled in it. He did it again later, when he found DJ's stash. Killsy, of course, will have no truck with such juvenile antics, except to watch the silly ones embarass themselves. These kids today, she no doubt thinks. So, LTRoTD, you know Killsy and Byron's net-famous "cute kitten pictures" so well that I won't repeat them here. Is this DJ's?
6/17
YES, I BE ONE
From Canaima, through the Sabana, the Jungle and the rivers Carrao & Churun, you’ll enjoy one of the biggets emotions of this life. All the facilities Camp. Guides as natives, all experts, will bring you trough troubles waters, just where a few have made it. Be you one of them.
--from a Venezuelan travel brochure
DJ went to the vet for his rabies shots today. Not much to tell; he didn't like the shots, but he was still a purring friend to everyone. Bad news: he has some unicellular parasite. Good news: there's a treatment taken orally that tastes like something cats like! Bad news: I have to give it to him for the next 8 days, so I hope he really likes the taste. He's all Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid over wet food, so I'll squirt it in his mouth before he gets the wet. Maybe he'll tolerate that.
I Regret Nothing has the worst product on TV. I left my reaction in the comments, but really, watch the ad first and decide for yourself.
Oh, the vet said that the general rule for kitten weight is that they gain a pound a month. At 3 months, DJ is 4 pounds. Likelihood that he becomes a moose: pretty high.
6/18
THAT’S WHY THEY PACK QUITE A PUNCH
Big Quiz host Gary King: What is the main ingredient of a Molotov cocktail? Contestant: Vodka?
I don't care if "it's a flavor cats like," I dreaded forcing 1cc of gut-bug killer into DJ's mouth via a tiny syringe. But while he fought its delivery at the vet, he did eat it all...Of course! Mix it in the wet food he goes berserk over! I gave him a big gloopy glop of Friskies Chicken & Tuna, then squirted the medicine onto it. It came out quicker than I thought it would. I put more food on top, then mixed it. And DJ dove right in! And paused. This he has never done. Then he jammed his face back in, gobbled some more, then moved his head in the universal symbol of "Wow, this tastes odd." Byron hadn't touched his own bowl, so he went after that. When Killsy had enough of her food, he ate that. Everytime he went past his bowl, still full of food, he'd pass. Great. Tomorrow we do it the hard way. For a week. But, lo! When there was no other cat's food to steal, he ate all of his. Maybe liked the taste, but connected it with having it literally shoved down his throat yesterday? I think I need to squeeze it out with greater precision, and stir it with a fork and not a spoon. This may be painless after all. Well, except to the microscopic bastards swimming in his intestines, but that's the point.
Messed-Up Bible Stories. These are pretty funny, and get funnier as the episodes continue. For years I've been making the same remark about those who believe that Noah's Ark is literally true--how did they get the kangaroos?
6/19
VIDEO GAME DIALOGUE, A MACING
Your Head a Splode!!!!!!!!!!!
--from the video game Homestar Runner, spoken upon player’s defeat (thanks to Cameron Williams)
Hey, Stupidest Things Ever Said Calendar...Homestar Runner? You're shittin' me, right? Here's a free one for you, from me, for free, to you:
Ralph Wiggum: Me fail English? That's unpossible!
Or do you guys not understand the difference between stupid and deliberately stupid? Will you be quoting Beavis and Butthead in future calendars?
6/20
WARNINGS, EXCESSIVELY LOGICAL
Warning label on a bottle of aspirin: DO NOT TAKE IF ALLERGIC TO ASPIRIN.
6/21
FASCINATING INSIGHTS INTO FATHERHOOD
The best thing about being a father is my children.
--Britney Spears’s ex, Kevin Federline (thanks to Jon Fuller)
6/22
JUST THE EVERYDAY NECESSITIES
HUSSEY’S MAINE’S LARGEST GENERAL STORE Guns, Bibles Wedding Gowns Cold Beer
--sign outside a store in Windsor, Maine
I was looking at some old comic book characters on Wikipedia yesterday. I like the fact that this leads to an infinite recursion of links, and you can start at trying to find out how that "Captain America is no longer dead, like that should surprise ANYBODY who's ever read a Marvel or DC comic book in their life" thing played out, which can then somehow lead to this unlikely string of words:
"After his resurrection by the Cosmic Cube, the Hate-Monger was now a being of pure energy that could take on any form he wished, and his H-Ray powers were now his own. He was able to regenerate from most wounds and could fire laser-like beams from his eyes. "As Hitler, the Hate Monger was also a cunning strategist and a charismatic leader, and able to incite fanatical loyalty to him through his rhetoric and persuasive personality. He is a good hand-to-hand combatant, and has apparently received some training in physical combat. He also had some talent in painting."
Two exciting events are coming up on my same day off. Which should I choose? The one that promises such pure, unadulterated adrenalin as "Christian Bowling Session" and "Open house at Rockville Downtown Association, including the possibility of the CT Music Hall of Fame being based in this building to honor the 'Rockville Rocket,' Gene Pitney"? Or the one shown in this slideshow, which promises face painting of coma patients, some douchebag, swordfights, more face painting, and GIANT DILDO RAMMINGS? Leave your opinion in the Comments!
I know that you really only came here in hope of another cat picture, so here's that photogenic boy again!
Even DJ is thinking "DANG that's a big foots!"
6/23
WEATHER FORECASTS, MILDLY CONFUSING
The Dallas Metroplex area may be experiencing some mild severe weather tomorrow.
--weatherman, NBC-TV, Dallas (thanks to Ethan Morning)
6/24
WE’RE NOT QUITE FOLLOWING THIS
The only thing which isn’t up for grabs is no change and I think it’s fair to say, it’s all to play for, except for no change.
--Assembly Member Rhodri Morgan, First Minister for Wales
I had a doctor's appointment today. I made it back when I worked second shift, so 2:15 seemed like a good time. Now, it seems late. So I accomplished nothing this morning on the computer, then found some other way to waste my time. The store radio had ads for the imaginatively-named Savers. I normally tune out the ads as best as possible, but this one began with "used clothing." And that should tell you all you need to know about the current American economy. It turned out to be as if the Salvation Army was turned into a chain store. Except that the SA gets its stuff through donations and uses the money for charity works--where does Savers get its merchandise, and who profits? It took a bit of Googling to find even their homepage--the top result was for "savers.au" so I thought it was some different chain down under, but no, it's them, they started in Australia. They pay nonprofits for their donations, and then sell them and, I assume, keep the profit. So, yes, Goodwill with a middleman. Better than WalMart, for sure, and anything that encourages the Most Wasteful Nation on Earth to buy used is a good thing. It's mainly clothes, just like a SalvArmy (a really HUGE SalvArmy). I held to the periphery where the clothes weren't, and the first things I saw were DVDs and VHS tapes and CDs. I looked up at the same type of pricing sign one would see at a SalvArmy, and it began:
45s 99 cents 8 tracks 99 cents
Umm, what? I looked down, and there they were. Piles of sleeveless 45s, the top ones being "To Sir With Love" by Lulu and "She's My GIrl" by the Turtles. They were both from 1967. And an 8 track by "Stanky and his Five Philadelphians" titled "Red White and Blue POLKA!" Holy crap! And I do mean crap! And just like the SA, there were lots of obsolete electronics, except instead of "AS IS" stickers they had "NO EXCHNG" ones. It's not a bargain if you get it home and it doesn't work. There were also NES games. I left without buying anything. I wasn't sure what I thought of the concept. These guys could put every Goodwill and SA and tiny thrift shop out of business, and I really don't like that idea. It wasn't helped by the fact that they were in the same plaza as the Wal-Mart that killed every local business that the Mall didn't. It was next to PETCO, "Where the Pets Go (to be Horribly Overcharged!)" Seriously, this same brand of litter costs $6.99 at the supermarket, and $10.99 here? PETCO, "Where Bill Goes (Right Out the Door!)" I still had time to waste, so I stopped at Toys R Us. I knew that it'd be the last place to go for the elusive Speed Racer Hot Wheels, as it'd be the first place collectors would strip. And I was right; just common Mach 5s and 6s left. But they had 6-inch Godzilla figures! Who could resist their own SMOG MONSTER figure, especially me?! Well, me could, as TRU has apparently evolved beyond the need to put prices on toys or the shelves they're on. (The website says they're $10.99, which is a bit steep for something DJ would knock to the floor so that Byron could pee on it) And I went to the doctor and I'm in perfect health, and OH BOY, I get to have a colonoscopy soon! Just because I'm 50, that's all. But still...the fun, the fun.
6/25
GOLF PLAYERS, PUNGENT
Tiger Woods has this aroma about him.
--golfer Ben Curtis, probably (hopefully!) meaning to say “aura” (thanks to Steven Suchy)
I read a brief article on the terror of senior driving. I once was rear-ended at full ramming speed while in line at the DMV for emissions testing by some fossil driving a Buick tank who mistook the gas for the brake while in park. He hit me so hard, he pushed me and the larger car in front of me forward 6 feet--and we were both in park. How decrepit do you have to be to not only forget which pedal does which, but ignore the fact that when you press the brake pedal to the metal, your engine doesn't gun? I guess you have to be deaf, too. Ever since that day over 15 years ago, I've said that you should have to take a driver's test at age 70, and again at every 5-year interval. The article linked above was about wearing a "senior suit" that reduces your reaction time and restricts your movements to that of an 85 year old. Sponsored by an insurance company, of course, who don't want to pay people like me for things that happen during the Drive of the Ancient Mariner. They even made a game, Grand Theft Auto: West Palm Beach (name may be made up). You can drive at ages 65, 75, 85. It really sucks. The game, I mean. Anything with arrow keys does. I know that you have to hold down the gas pedal to move, but you don't do it with 1 finger on your 3 finger steering wheel. It's hard to drive a car in a way that no one has ever driven a car in real life. The gas pedal should've been the space bar, and it'd be more accurate if it was something you didn't have to think about it--hit once to accelerate at the constant rate of the game, then once to brake, twice to slam the brakes hard, then once to speed up again. But the purpose is to make the adult parents of children think "I had an Atari and I can't play this! So I'm hiding Mom's keys! And sending her to a home! That way the insurance company won't have to pay out on any of her potential accidents, and I'll have to pay them to house Mom till she dies!" It's a game with one winner. And it ain't you or your 'rents.
Just because everyone loves kitten pics...
6/26
SENIOR CITIZENS, GHOULISH
SENIORS TO TOUR MORGUE, EAT RIBS
--headline in the Birmingham (Michigan) Eccentric
It says something about a country's "news media" when it takes an item about a pop musician whose music hasn't been relevant for two decades to dislodge as THE FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANTEST STORY IN THE WORLD'S HEADLINE NEWS an item about an actress whose entire career has been irrelevant for three decades. And the fact that they were each in turn described as "American cultural icons" tells you even more about the paucity of American "culture." What's the news coverage exchange rate on human life? How many dead Afghanis, Iraqis and Iranians does it take to equal one Ed McMahon?
6/27
WOW, EBAY MEETS EVERYONE'S NEEDS
EXORCISER EQUIPMENT
--eBay auction for exercise equipment
Ernst Bitterman responds to me in the Comments:
What's the news coverage exchange rate on human life? How many dead Afghanis, Iraqis and Iranians does it take to equal one Ed McMahon?
Impossible. You can't compare the ineffable uniqueness of an individual white celebrity to the cookie-cutter, they-all-look-the-same-to-me-ness of brown people who never laughed at terrible jokes in front of millions, had their hinted-at nipple reproduced infinitely, or entirely changed the shape of their head music videos. After all, family-supporting has never been as important to the media as entertaining.
And don't try to say Michael Jackson wasn't white the last decade or so. Or that I'm not in a terrible mood that sees me living up to my name.
SHAWT: HIM: Do you sell ping pong balls? It's not a complete non sequitur. I'm sure he wanted supplies for beer pong, the (binge) drinking game. But why go to a liquor store? Was his next stop Dick's Sporting Goods to pick up a keg?
Why Are We Here? Funny, but funnier if you've ever read a Jack Chick tract.
ATTENTION BECAUSE WE DO NOT HAVE A TISSUE ALWAYS READY IN THIS RESTROOM, PLEASE BUY A USED ONE.
--sign in a restroom, Kyoto, Japan
6/29
THAT’S A RELIEF!
Q: Have you had any injuries to your head? A: None fatal.
--actual courtroom testimony between District Attorney Elvis Presley and witness Michael Jackson, the Honorable Judge Judy Loch Ness Monster nee Bigfoot presiding
The Killsy-DJ transition has been less than cordial. DJ and Byron, sure, smooth as cat fur. Last Wednesday Toemaster B and Loverboy became partners in crime, the big guy leading with the little guy eager on his heels. Byron started playing with him rather than fighting with him. Killsy, hmm, yes, there's that. Why does he insist on running up to her when she responds with hisses and swats? Why is she so mopey? How come she never seems to eat anymo--WAIT, I haven't seen her eat in front of me in FOUR DAYS! And if you're thinking "Well, Bill, at least you didn't panic" I will simply fold my hands in my lap and scream "AAAAHHH!!!!!" whilst running along the walls. I called the vet to make an appointment for her the next morning. I called work to see if the boss was in, because I'd be in a half-hour late. Two hours later, of course I saw her eat. No doubt the amount of fussing and petting and talking calmed her down. But still, why does he go to her when she growls and smacks him? Pure optimism, born of a young soul who loves everyone? Or youthful ignorance? Couldn't be the last; whenever rejected, he always and immediately backs off. Last night she was asleep in a box, and up he ambled. "Not a good idea, DJ," said I. Sleeping, she didn't react. Then he jumped half in her box, planting his front legs right on her! GAH!!! said I, "Dial 911!" As I reached down to swoop him away before WWIII began, he started licking her. And she just laid there, loving it. Until she realized that I was watching, then he got the snarl and the swat. All this time...FAKER! She's done this bit of theater before with Byron, pretending that she haaates him, except for a few rare times when she forgets and I see the loving that happens when I'm not home. She's always been given plenty of attention, so I think she does this just so that she gets more attention, to remind the lowly males who's the Queen of the World. Then they both laid inches away from each other, blinking into the other's eyes for a long time. I think it's like professional wrestling: "Nothing personal," says the champ, "I like ya just fine. It's all for the cameras, kid."
6/30
TAKING DIVERSIFICATION A LITTLE TOO FAR
REBEL LUBE SERVICE CENTER Free Earwash with Lube & Oil Change Only
--ad in a newspaper
A thousand words:
A few words: One thing that I've always done for Killsy is to whisper "Shh! Don't let your brother know!" While Byron was sleeping (although he wouldn't hear me if I'd screamed the words. I wanted Kays to know that these words were for her) I'd let her sneak "outside" to the common hallway, or sneak her some treats. Both boys were snoozing in sunbeams in the living room, while Kill Kill was in the main room with me. "Shh! Want some treats? Don't let your brothers know!" I said in strictest confidence. I quietly pulled the treat bag from the cabinet, as DJ hears perfectly, and...she walked with determination into the center of the living room. DJ woke up, then Byron did, and only then did she turn to me for her treats. The boys got some too, of course. Houston, I believe we have paradigm shift! Also, after a month of his life with us, DJ clearly does not meow. He squeaks, creaks, chirps and brrrps? all the time though. When he jumps off something high, he hits the ground with a noise like old toy baby dolls once did. Eep! Now you should go back and look at that greatest cat picture EVER, and sing Sister Sledge's "We Are Family." "We are family! Byron, DJ, Killsy and me!"
7/1
MAYORAL COMMENTS, UNTIMELY
I’m lost, but I’m making record time.
--Toronto mayor Allan Lamport
This morning we had the usual Friskies breakfast. But it was the first we've had that all 3 cats ate with their bowls only inches apart. DJ gets more food thhan anybody, but he's just an eating machine and finishes first. He'll nudge into Byron's bowl, and Byron doesn't seem to mind. DJ knows not to try to eat from Killsy's bowl until she walks away, saying "All yours, kid." And the hissing and swatting seem to have passed into--umm, the past. We Are Family. DJ must have read my blog yesterday. After eating his Friskies, he decided to meow! And meow. Also, mrrrROW. Like 20 times in a row, just walking around meowing. And he did it again later, all in a row, like he just discovered how to do it this morning, and for all I know, he did. Maybe he was saving it for when both cats accepted him as a sibling.
The way to save money on groceries is to not impulse buy, and the way to not impulse buy is to make a shopping list and then only go to the aisles with the stuff on your list. I always have a mental list that I put together at work when things are slow. But things are never slow during the end-of-month buy-ins. I had a vague feeling that I'd forgotten something Monday when I shopped after work. As I was ringing myself up on the self-serv register, I noticed that someone had abandoned the coupons that the register prints out. I grabbed them; even if they were for something I wouldn't buy, at least they'd get recycled. Hey, $2 off of Purina One! I buy that! It wasn't until I got home and noticed that I'd forgotten to buy PURINA ONE CAT FOOD. It's the only kitten food Stop & Shop sells. It was the MAIN REASON I went there. Oh well, now I can save $2 when I have to go again! Today I had my new mental to-do list: drop off DJ's poopie sample at the vet, get a trial membership at BJ's warehouse, gas the car, get Purina One and a couple of other stuff at Stop & Shop, and...umm...park the car outside the garage so that I could put some power steering fluid and antifreeze into my leaky engine. Hmm, seems a step is missing there, don't remember what. Got home, parked and--GET ANTIFREEZE! Stop at AutoZone and get the damn antifreeze! The MAIN REASON that I parked outside! Why'd I only remember half? I'd like to blame it on being old, but I've always done this. Stupid brain of mine! Eh, who cares. I drive by the place every time I go to work, so I can get it tomorrow. Best of all, I have a happy family.
