Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Today in History, from the Library of Congress.

In the days leading up to the Battle of Antietam, Confederate General Robert E. Lee concentrated his invading army outside Sharpsburg, Maryland. Victorious at Manassas in August, Lee's Army of Northern Virginia hoped to garner new recruits and supplies in Maryland, a slave-holding state that remained in the Union. However, Union General George B. McClellan who closely pursued his rival enjoyed a strategic advantage. A scout had discovered a copy of the Confederate battle plan and the contents of Lee's Special Order Number 191 were well-known to his rival.

At dawn on September 17th, 1862 the hills of Sharpsburg thundered with artillery and musket fire as the Northern and Southern armies struggled for possession of the Miller farm cornfield. For three hours, the battle lines swept back and forth across the field.

By mid-morning, the Confederate line was established along a country lane called Sunken Road. The soldiers crouched behind its high banks, unleashing heavy fire upon advancing Union troops. Eventually, the overwhelming number of Northerners broke the Confederate line. As the Southerners spun to defend their position, the Union troops rained bullets lengthwise down the lane onto them. The road came to be known as Bloody Lane because of the tragic toll of death suffered there.

The Southerners retreated towards Sharpsburg, covered by cannon fire from General Stonewall Jackson's artillery. The Union troops fell back in the face of the cannon fire and failed to pursue the Confederates.

Cautious to a fault, McClellan failed to advance quickly on the Confederates who had reached the town. Eventually, General Ambrose Burnside attacked, but was repelled by the ragged Southerners and newly-arrived troops under Major General A. P. Hill.

By nightfall, Confederates occupied the town of Sharpsburg ending the single bloodiest day in American history. Over 23,000 men were killed, wounded, or missing in action. The next day, Lee began his retreat across the Potomac River.

posted by Terry at 3:25:00 PM

Inspector Renauld is Busy Today! Many Weight-Loss Ads Misleading - U.S. Report

By Lisa Richwine

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Many of those claims in weight-loss advertisements that seem far too good to be true really are not, according to a U.S. government report released on Tuesday.

Federal Trade Commission staff analyzed advertising for products and services that promise quick fixes for dropping pounds and found that over half -- about 55 percent -- include at least one claim that was very likely false or lacked adequate proof.

Nearly 40 percent made at least one claim, such as "Eat as much as you want and still lose weight," that was almost certainly false. [...]

Wow. Whoda thunkit? (Almost certainly?)

UPDATE FOR SEPTEMBER 18--This just in to the Possumblog Statistical Analysis Department from Axis of Weevil svelte toy boy Charles Austin:

"But I eat all I want, and while I gain weight, I don't gain as much weight as if I wasn't taking these diet medications. By your standard Democrat method of reasoning, that means I am losing weight!"

Certainly works for Ted Kennedy.

posted by Terry at 2:57:00 PM

U.N. Security Council Discusses Iraq

Diplomats Hopeful Decisionmaking Will Not Be Required

posted by Terry at 2:50:00 PM

The incredible power of the Blogosphere as seen by Janis Gore

[...] Take for instance Megan McArdle's blog Live from the WTC. Ms. McArdle spends hours explaining the intricacies of economics viewed through the prism of her studies in the Chicago school of economics. She is widely known and appreciated for succinct thinking and writing on issues such as social security, welfare and markets.

What have I learned from her writings? From a throwaway log entry and a comment by Dan Hartung, I learned that Wal-mart sells a remote-controlled fan on a stand for $32.95. It can be controlled from up to 25 feet away. One now sits in my invalid Mother's room, so she has a little control over her environment.

So much for Milton Friedman. [...]

And what has the Blossom of Vidalia, Louisiana, learnt from Possumblog? Well, obviously it is so horrifying she dared not mention it, but I think it might have been that thing about not trying to use Sterno as a marital aid in ANY FASHION.

posted by Terry at 11:50:00 AM

From The Files of Inspector Renauld--Nations Waver in Supporting U.S. After Iraq Offer

"Look, they said we could unconditionally talk about possibly sending back in inspectors sometime in the indeterminate future--is that not enough for you bloodthirsty Yankee imperialist cowboy hegemoniacal ignoramus producers of Britney Spears?"

Well, no.

posted by Terry at 11:38:00 AM

From the "Never Say it Can't Happen in America" file, B. Indigo offers the following insight:

Tweety Bird's defining trade mark alert, "I tawt I taw a putty tat." has gone the way of much classic nostalgic humor we seniors enjoyed in our childhoods. Hysterically pants-wetting funny to countless kids since his cartoon creation (late 40s/early50s?), Tweety apparently is yet another PC victim. Anyone notice the new cartoons have him saying "I thought I saw a kitty cat."? Thereby killing two offensive birds (forgive me, Tweety!) with one censorship stone: elimination of reference to a speech impediment (even baby talk) and a now-unacceptable nursery rhyme word.

Agreed that physical or mental handicaps (sorry, "challenges") should not be mocked. Admittedly rap music has debased Mother Gooses's innocent pussy cat. But Tweety is a baby, for God's sake! Where will it end? I recommend a nationwide email campaign to Walt Disney Studios requesting that they refrain from bowing to the will of Hollywood Political Correctness and give Tweety back his natural personna. Or, how about "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore"?

Now THAT would be interesting! I do remember a few years back when Turner Broadcasting had bought the rights to the old Tom and Jerry cartoons, and there was one being rerun on TBS one day which came from the early '40s. It had the proto-Tom called "Jasper" in an episode with Mammy Two Shoes, a stereotypical Negro housekeeper askeert by dem mouses. Now I remember back B.C. (Before Cable) that Mammy had a stereotypical dialect voice to go along wif her fine sef (like the crows in Dumbo), which was either really funny or horribly insensitive.

Insensitive it may be, but when TBS showed it, it had been magically erased and redubbed with the voice of some very professional-sounding white girl. It was certainly the body of Mammy Two Shoes up on the kitchen stool with little Jerry mugging and shaking the bejabbers out of it, but the voice said, "Eek. It is a mouse. Help. Jasper. Come and get this mouse." Might as well have been asking me if I wanted aluminum siding for my house.

Now I'm very sorry, but the scene lost all its integrity without the loud "AAAGGGGGGGHHH!!!!! JASssssssPUH!!!!!!!! DEZ A MOUSE IN HYEH! YOU COME IN HYEH AN GIT DAT MOUSE! AAAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGH!" Of course, equally funny would be "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"

posted by Terry at 11:31:00 AM

Well, I have FINALLY finished reading Lt. Col. Jon T. Hoffman's biography Chesty--The Story of Lieutenant General Lewis B. Puller. Good book about one of America's great fighting men, which unfortunately took so long to read due to my insistence on reading it late at night, meaning I was only good for about a chapter before my head dropped into the book and I started slobbering. It was definitely NOT due to any fault of Lt. Col. Hoffman or his subject matter. The book is incredibly well researched and nicely written, and as opposed to several books I've mentioned in the past, reads as it should and not as a hastily written set of notes on 3x5 cards collected by research assistants and then handed to a highly-touted author for him to stamp his name in big letters on the cover. (Not going to call any names here...)

Puller's legendary status among Marines, along with the 1962 Burke Davis' biography Marine!, meant that Hoffman had a particularly difficult task to accomplish in overcoming the ingrained perceptions of Puller to show his human side (with all of its faults) without denigrating one of the truly heroic men of the Corps.

Relying on primary sources and actual field reports, he has taken on a monumental problem and written a worthy account, one that although it lays bare the flaws in Puller's demeanor--his bullheadedness, his disdain for staff officers and staff functions, his occasional paranoia regarding supposed detractors within the Corps, his reputation for being wasteful of the lives of his men, his penchant for deliberately saying contradictory and inflammatory statements--still manages to present a picture of a tremendous leader of men, as well as a tender and loving father and family man. Due to the huge amount of material from his personnel files and access to family papers which until now have not been available, it would be difficult for anyone to say that the work was written either to savage his reputation or further polish it--it is what it is--a careful reexamination that adds depth to the Puller legend.

As his life drew to a close, his relationship with his family grew even closer, and the passages dealing with his son's tour of duty in Viet Nam and subsequent near fatal wounds are truly moving. These events are not covered in detail, perhaps in deference to Puller's son's book, Fortunate Son--The Autobiography of Lewis B. Puller, Jr., which is going to be the next thing on the reading list.

Good book, well written.

posted by Terry at 11:03:00 AM

Awww...it's so nice to have a pen pal! Larry Anderson over at Kudzu Acres takes keyboard in hand for a moment to send a missive to his new buds, Osama and Omar:

[...] I should tell you about my friends and family. There are about 280 million of them. They come from everywhere on Earth. Why, there are even people who may have been your next door neighbors a few years back. Remember, they were the ones who didn’t bow and stoop when you passed by, the ones you had your eye on for when you got the power to do something about people who disagreed with you. Well too bad, but they came here just as such people have been doing for 400 hundred years. The funny thing is most of us are descended from people you wouldn’t like. You really would not have cared for George Washington, Daniel Boone, Abe Lincoln or Martin Luther King. You see, they fought for freedom for themselves and others, something you could never understand. You probably can’t understand this either, but few of my friends and family spend very much time thinking about you. We are looking at the future and you are the past. Our President tells us to go out and shop and you see a weak, depraved people. Wrong, what we are is a strong, vibrant culture. When my friends and family buy things, they help to provide work for others so that they can have food, clothing and shelter. They use the money they earn to support their churches, synagogues, mosques and temples. They support their schools, donate to charities and send more of their private wealth to help people around the world than any other nation.[...]

Gee, I didn't know that O&O had Internet access in Hell! (Probably has to go through a 300 baud rate modem, though)

posted by Terry at 10:06:00 AM

From the Axis of Weevil Ministress of Weapons of Mass Destruction, Elizabeth Spiers' entry back on Sunday (sorry to just now find it), on the Anniston Army Depot chemical weapons incinerator, and alternatives: Bah! Idiots!

Good evening, and welcome to the September 15th edition of "Debunking the New York Times."

My favorite bombastic broadsheet ("All the News That's Fit to Print"!) is running a story on a chemical weapons stockpile in Alabama that I know very well. The focus of the article is the Army's use of incineration ("baseline technology") to destroy the weapons and the danger it presents to the local population.

Incineration of chemical weapons certainly entails some nonzero risk of danger, as do all chemical weapon disposal methods. What the Times doesn't tell you, however, (and what, to be fair, they probably don't know) is that the supposedly "safer" alternative - chemical neutralization - is simply not feasible for the stockpile in Anniston.

The civic group mentioned in the article - the Chemical Weapons Working Group (CWWG) - is the driving force behind the neutralization movement. The CWWG has long opposed incineration on the basis that toxic fumes would be released in the process. While it's true that the fumes released wouldn't exactly be *healthy*, at their worst, they're no more harmful than average exposure to standard auto emissions in pre-lead-regulation eras. The real alternative - risk of exposure to the actual chemical agents as the stockpile corrodes over time - is much worse. [...]

It's all good, and all worth a read. One only wishes our representatives could take just the time to read it and quit trying to make political hay out of it. (I can dream, can't I?)

posted by Terry at 9:50:00 AM

For some reason, Tuesday's Possumblog is stuck on car stories--Toyota weighs at least 4 sites

One of them being in Fackler, Alabama up near Scottsboro. This would be another nice addition to Mercedes, Honda, Hyundai, and the Toyota engine plant already in the state. I have never let my distaste for Dapper Don Siegelman, our royal governor, stand in the way of acknowledging his prowess, along with that of the Alabama Development Office, in attracting these folks (whether such deals are good for the state is another topic)--HOWEVER, much of their success in the past has been the ability of everyone to keep their big yaps shut until the company decides what they are going to do.

This discretion has been uniformly praised and pointed to by the companies as one of the reasons for locating in Alabama. This being an election year, though, and one in which Dandy Don has a pretty good fight on his hands, means he thinks he has to take credit for everything and start breaking some of his own rules:

[...] A spokeswoman for the Mississippi Development Authority said Monday the agency does not comment on economic development projects, as did a spokesman for Alabama Gov. Don Siegelman.

But Siegelman told The Huntsville Times in a Saturday story the state is making a play for the project. The Times story first reported Fackler was in the running but didn't mention specific sites in other states.

"We have a very competitive. (sic) This is a very competitive situation," Siegelman told the newspaper. "A number of states are competing and Alabama's offer is very competitive, but my standard refrain is, I don't comment on an industrial prospect until it becomes a reality." [...]

'I don't ever comment. Except now, because I want everyone to know I am trying to buy some votes by letting everyone know we are going for another auto plant. Not that I would comment.' Wrong move, Don, even though I'm sure you think it's for The Children™. If the competition for this plant is as hot as that for your seat, you may have just blown it, giving Toyota a reason NOT to come here.

posted by Terry at 9:21:00 AM

GM: Will Match Japan Quality in 2-3 Years

If this had been stated by anyone other than Bob Lutz, I would be laughing my quite ample buttocks off. This is, after all, the automaker who seriously thinks the Saturn is a Honda fighter.

Given that it is Lutz, I will say that it does give some hope.

GM has some incredibly talented people and great wads of cash, so maybe it can happen. As it notes in the article, though, even if they really do manage to change a culture of beancounterosity, the public's perception will still lag for a few years after that. Which, if the past actions of GM have any weight, means that when they are just about to turn the corner, the money boys will not that it's been six years of coddling incredibly talented people and spending great wads of cash with no discernable uptick in sales or loyalty, so back to the old ways of pushing crap out the door based on what little goodwill you managed to build up.

posted by Terry at 8:44:00 AM

Hey, good morning to all of the folks who keep dropping by from Off-Road.Com's message board! My off-road experience is limited to the time my '72 Monte Carlo slammed into a ditch coming around Roberta Road, leaving a nice long crease down the passenger side door and rear quarter panel from the great honking huge rock sticking out of the side of the hill beside the ditch. That was my first car, by the way, and had been repainted with a beautiful hand-rubbed black lacquer. It didn't look so good afterwards.

I do have a truck, the famous-in-his-own-right Franklin, an '82 F-100 carrying 255,000 miles on him. He's still on the same straight-6 engine and 3+OD transmission, and only the second clutch. (Surely a testament more to his former owner than me. Franklin's been in our family for a bit over three years, and I've probably only put about 2500 miles on him.) In that time, he's had his front suspension rebuilt. And carburetor rebuilt. And his A/C converted to R-134a. And a $15 radio installed. And a K-Mart seat cover. His off-road time is limited to driving around the dirt roads where they are extending the subdivision. He hauls rocks and dirt and grubby children equally well.

posted by Terry at 8:30:00 AM

Monday, September 16, 2002

Opposition alleges widespread bungling in registration for Nigeria's elections

Which can mean only one thing...coming to an e-mail inbox near you:

Hello,

My name is Doctor JONAS MBO, PhD, and I am contacting you as a friend has said you are trustworthy in handling matters of confidence. My upcoming run for office as Nigerian Federal Overseer of Finance and Administration has been placed into doubt due to bungling of voter registration and corruption, and I need your help in safeguarding 7,000,000,000U.S.$ (seven BILLION U.S. Dolllars)...

posted by Terry at 3:03:00 PM

Proof that The Birmingham News is not really so crappy--today's editorial page with the headline 'Just a flesh wound'

Diving deeply into the prime resource of anti-idiotarians everywhere, the Ed staff look to Monty Python and the Holy Grail (along with a gratuitous nod to Treasure of the Sierra Madre) to adequately plumb the depths of Alabama's fiscal system:

[...] State Finance Director Henry Mabry sounds an awful lot like the Black Knight when he talks about the education budget, but he's not nearly as funny. This year's budget is hemorrhaging red, and Mabry acts as if it's a flesh wound.

Here's the deal: The $4.1 billion education budget approved by our erstwhile lawmakers for this fiscal year, which ends Sept. 30, is running $90 million short of the growth that had been projected for it. ("Just a flesh wound.")

Blame too-rosy forecasts or a still-woozy economy that didn't perform as it should have, but the money's not there as planned. (This doesn't even take into account the more than $80 million the state still owes in corporate income tax refunds from tax year 2000, which must be paid out of the education budget.)

A law the Legislature passed in April allows Gov. Don Siegelman the discretion to take as much as $82.1 million from several state accounts, which began last week when the administration transferred $18 million from a fund for state computer services to the education budget. (Computers? We don't need no stinkin' computers.) It also transferred $2 million from a fund for state phone services.

Mabry says other transfers will be made later this month, but here's the catch: Almost $40 million of the money Mabry wants to tap has been tied up in court. Covington County schools have sued to block the transfer of money, which accumulated from the sale or lease of what are known as 16th section lands given to Alabama counties in the 1800s for school use.

The state, perhaps sensing its standing was about as steady as the Black Knight's after he had lost his legs, is offering to settle in lieu of a court fight. But what's to settle? The money belongs to local systems and should be distributed to them.

The administration's Holy Grail, of course, is to make it through this fiscal year, which ends Sept. 30, without Siegelman being forced to cut the education budget, or dip into the new $250 million rainy-day fund for schools. It's a strategy based not on fiscal responsibility, but on political irresponsibility. [...]

IF I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times..."Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony...you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you! I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!"

And now for something compleatly different...

posted by Terry at 1:57:00 PM

From the "News Story Useful Only for Comic Relief" File: 8 Arrested in Ant-Eater Smuggling

"Hey, is that an anteater in your p..." Nah, too easy.

UPDATE: Proof of my assertion of the comic potential of pangolins, echidnas, and anteaters we have this just in to Possumblog Comedy Ward from Nate McCord way out in Osmandland--

"It crossed my mind several years ago, living in Louisiana and fighting the battle of the fire ants, that maybe anteaters could be domesticated and made into backyard pets to keep the ant population at bay.

It even crossed my mind that if a person owned a small herd of pointy noses, that fire ant control duty could be contracted for the local municipalities and the critters shepherded to whatever area needed attention.

But 'twas not to be. Darn things only breed about 1 offspring every other year or so, so ranching them seemed unprofitable. And apparently they think nothing of digging a 5 foot hole in your yard if that's how far the ants have penetrated.

Another great idea spoiled by the facts..."

Nonsense and piffle! THIS IS AMERICA--Where there is a will, there is a way, and so therefore the Possumblog Genetic Research and Sportsman Class Stock Car Team are hereby tasked with finding the secret to anteater gestational non-productivity through the use of fertility drugs, careful genetic selection, anteater porn, Barry White 8-tracks, and the good folks at Willie's Anteater Safari Farm in Opp, Alabama to break down this barrier to wealth and fame and get it to where we have anteaters a'spawning like snakeheads! Here's to you, Nate! (Oh, yeah, we might need to have a couple of F-16s around for fun.)

posted by Terry at 1:38:00 PM

WORK!

And how! I have too much to do today, so the best thing I can do is...well, waste some more time blogging! This one's gonna have to be short and sweet, though--

Manliness--now back to Unscented Sure aerosol and Ivory. Still having some residual effect of prissiness, witnessed by my wearning of stylish Regis Philbin-esqeue dark gray dress shirt in lieu of God-fearing white.

Appraiser--Gosh, who knew they had to actually come into your home, which at the time was covered completely with laundry and toys and stacks of homework papers and small children eating lunch and running around playing Barbie while wearing only a t-shirt and a smile. Despite my pleas to ignore the stacks of junk that give the sumptuous interior of our fine home the visual aspect of the aftermath of a tornado-devastated hobo jungle, I think he may have noticed that we have four children with retarded tidy skills. Oh well.

Auburn--Won 31-6. Yea. Thursday is Mississippi State. Possible butt-kicking looming from the Starkvillains. On ESPN.

Soccer--Little Girl's team lost by about 18 or 19 to 1. Gee, that may be due to the fact that everyone else has been practicing for two months and her team has practiced two times. She had lots of fun, though.

I wound up having to go to Boy's game and listen to the Lisping Lackawannan berate his charges. Rebecca went with me and kept whispering in my ear about all the stuff they were doing wrong and wondering why his coach was so bad and why he kept screaming at them. I will remind you that she is 10, and that I never talk bad about coaches or teachers or other adults (with the exception of various Democrats) within earshot of the kids. She figured this guy out all by herself. Smart kid.

Anyway, they wound up getting beat 3-1 by the kids from Clay. The most exciting thing of the whole game (aside from a couple of spotty rain showers) came in the last five minutes when a Honda Accord driven by an elderly man came around a rain-slick curve, slid into the ditch on the right side, jumped back out and crossed the centerline and carromed over the ditch on the left side before coming to a rest. Thankfully, he was okay, other than being a bit shaken up, and we almost scored a goal as the Clay goalie stood there watching everything out the back of the net. It is a testament to our coach's ability that we were unable to score in this circumstance.

Planting--Oh sweet rain. We got a fair amount of wildly scattered rain from Hannah passing through. Enough to water the plants and give my sweet wife the idea that since the ground was soft she should go to the store and buy more mums to put out. Which means that I got to put my PHD to work, because she told me she intended to use her tiny hand trowel, knowing full well that I would not stand there and let her dig when there is the fast and efficient set of post hole diggers around. The kids played ball in the yard, I grunted and heaved, and we managed to get about 10 pots set out before the rain started back up. And real rain, not just a shower. So now we have all this mess in the yard and it will probably be Friday before I get back to it. Oh well (again).

There was some interesting stuff buried in the planter, though, the neatest (or ickiest, depending on your phobias) was the burrow of a trap door spider (with resident spider) she uncovered when she first started digging. Way cool, and gigantic, and right scary, all in one shiny black package.

So then, that's the nutshell version--Now I gotta get my butt in gear and get some stuff done today!

posted by Terry at 10:16:00 AM

Friday, September 13, 2002

Saturday looms, featuring two soccer games to be held at the same time at two different fields, an appraiser coming by to look at our house so we can refinance, and most importantly, the kickoff of Auburn’s SEC competition against the Vanderbilt University Really Smart Kids Who Suck at Football But Did Manage to Beat Furman, which I probably won’t get to see much of due to the interference of the items mentioned at the first of this incredibly long run-on sentence.

As for football, this should be a walk for Auburn as long as the rain holds off (they have enough trouble holding onto the ball without it being wet). Right now they've got a ten game winning streak going against the Commode Doors--maybe the law of averages won't be too unkind. The biggest question I have about Vandy is if they have all of those smart folks why are their cheerleader pictures all so poorly lit. Please work on that, guys.

As for soccer, I noted last week that Breck Girl Mom is missing in action, but luckily our backyard neighbor's kids have started playing this year, and their mom looks exactly like a 28 year old, 3/4 scale version of the 1971 Miss America.

Other soccerish things don't look quite so hot--I finally found out that the reason for Cat's coach's absence Monday (when Superbaby decided to explore the wonders of mass and velocity) was that she and her family had decided to go on vacation. That's nice; but gee, even nicer would have been for you to call all of your parents and let them know about it ahead of time. I had such high hopes for her, which have quickly evaporated, along with the attention spans of her kids during practice. They pick on the other kids and wander off and basically don't do anything except make Catherine angry. Best not make her too much that way, if they know what's good for them.

Likewise Boy's team is still saddled with the coaching skills of Mr. Arrogant Jackwad, Sr., which basically consist of screaming "PYATH DA BWAAAALL! THCOTT, PYATHH THHIT!" (Translation: Pass the ball! Scott, pass it! Yep, not only is crippled by a big fat Schuylkill brogue, he has a lisp.)

Good grief; never have I met anyone so horribly ill-suited for being around children, or other humans, for that matter. He's rude and inconsiderate and hateful (and that's just to his own kid) and since both games are at the same time, I may have to go to Little Girl's game. I really don't think I can stand having to go through a whole game while this jabronie yells at them to head the ball when it's coming in knee high and hot. Yes, I'm serious. After the English Soccer Coach Guy taught them heading one practice, the scrimmage afterward was dominated by Goob screaming "HYEAD DA BWAAALLLL! HYEAD IT!" regardless of whether it was on the ground or forty feet in the air. Moron.

At least Becca's team looks like they're gonna win some games. Both coaches are real big on teamwork and fundamentals and on having fun, too. She's gotten to play offense some now, and has really done pretty well, considering she's not very fast. She makes up for it in size, and according to her coach, lots of smarts. (Before you say anything, I give her mother credit for the brains!) Luckily, her first game is not until next week, so there is still some time to figure out what we're going to do when we've got THREE games at the same time in three DIFFERENT places.

Anyway, it all promises to be interesting, and I might even post something about it Monday morning.

Y'all have a good weekend!

posted by Terry at 2:21:00 PM

Excrutiatingly Horrifying Search Requests

opossum sex pictures

Ewwwwwwwwww! What a sick, SICK world! (Of course, my reaction may be only a function of jealousy since I am only the #2 result.)

Less horrifying, yet no less pitiful is this for lil sucker handheld vacuum cleaner We regret to inform our valued customers that the Possumblog Appliance and Liquor Store is no longer handling the Euro Pro Lil' Sucker due to several supplier and manufacturer issues I won't go into here. For fun, you may wish to check out this person, who has way too much time on his hands.

posted by Terry at 9:50:00 AM

You know, it's probably gonna be a long day.

The only thing worse than getting up in the dark and stumbling to the bathroom to take a shower while the rest of the house is asleep is that moment when you get in and the water's nice and hot and you realize that there is no soap. No bar, no bottle, no sliver down in the mat of hair by the drain. Of course, there are choices--start screaming bloody murder until someone wakes up and gives you soap to shut you up (makes much bad mojo--not a good option), get back out, walk to lavatory and get soap (requires effort--not a good option), or use the shampoo.

Hmm. No noise, no effort.

But a man really doesn't want to smell like Herbal Essences Fruit Fusions Protecting Shampoo, does he? Even though it's "made especially for color-treated hair," and promises that "Protecting Shampoo cleanses hair gently, so your color won't be stripped away." (But what about my tender skin?) And even though it is "made of a unique fragrant blend with Mandarin, Starfruit and Papaya," surely there must be something better. But, still, "this exhilarating shampoo will keep your hair looking and feeling vibrant and healthy." And when your only alternative soap/shampoo is Neutrogena T-Gel, you decide that since you have to be around humans, it's probably better to smell like a girl than a coal tar refinery.

Mmmm. Mandarin, starfruit, and papaya.

After a long, lingering infusion of calming fruit scents, it is sadly time to dry off. And be confronted with another choice when you reach into the cabinet and find that in all of the taking of children to soccer the night before, and despite a trip to Wal-Mart the night before that, you remember that you forgot to purchase the manly, Unscented Sure spray-on antiperspirant you use to simultaneously destroy the ozone, keep yourself dry, and stay non-goat-smelling-like. (Such are the things which have import to me.) Even though you search in vain for the emergency backup can of Fresh Manly Scented, you find that it, too, is no longer in stock.

Again, choices.

Well, there's the Lysol. Spray Lysol, bottled Lysol, Lysol Basin Tub and Tile Cleaner. Nope, nope, nope. Then there's hairspray. Nope. Go without? Well...ahhhhhh...NO!

Hmmm. What's this? "Strong Enough for a Man, But Made for a Woman."

Aw geez. Am I reduced to this? Of course. "Powder Fresh," eh? Whatever. I see that this product is in the form of a Soft Solid, the application of which gives me a much greater understanding of the ad slogan, for you see, "Made for a Woman" assumes an American woman who shaves her armpits. Soft solid (which is really more of a thick liquidy powder) just sort of gets all balled up and sticky when met with the hirsute he-manliness for which I am known far and wide. Imagine spackling a badger.

But spackle I did, and am now thoroughly in touch with my feminine side. She's ugly as sin and big as a barn, but at least she smells good.

posted by Terry at 9:19:00 AM

Iraq says Bush's address to UN is full of lies

Hey, take it from us, we know all about lies. Of course, there is independent media confirmation, too...

Iraqi Media: Bush Speech Nonsense

posted by Terry at 8:24:00 AM

Is You Is, Or Is You Ain't...

Tasty hot Bleat from Mr. Lileks:

I’ve been reading reactions to the President’s UN speech, and I’m amused at how people don’t seem to get it. Oh, now he’s being a multilateralist? Now he believes in the UN? No. That speech was the equivalent of that fabled kung-fu move that removes your opponent's heart and shows it to you, just before you crumple. It’s of a piece with the administration’s behavior since 9/11: Let all the carpers and obstructionists gather on the tip of the thinnest branch, then show up with a saw and announce they have five minutes to come hug the trunk, which incidentally is covered with sap and stinging ants. It was sheer malicious brilliance to cast the entire case in terms of UN resolutions, because it mean the UN had to chose: either those resolutions mean something, or the UN means nothing. Why, it's almost as if the UN painted itself into a corner - and woke up to find this rude simple cowboy holding the brush. How the hell did he do that?

Magic, baby. Magic.

posted by Terry at 8:17:00 AM

Thursday, September 12, 2002

Sullying the reputation of all drivers of pickup trucks.

At least we now know the answer to the question "paper or plastic?" We can only hope we never find out "boxers or briefs?"

posted by Terry at 4:54:00 PM

White House loses century-old tree to squirrels

WASHINGTON (AP) -- A tree that has graced the White House's expansive North Lawn since the 19th century came down Thursday, the victim of over-aggressive squirrels. [...]

The tree's undoing was its appeal to squirrels, which burrowed so deeply they penetrated the layer that transports water throughout the tree. Groundskeepers had to spend a large amount of time tending the tree and shearing top branches as they died of thirst. Eventually, workers concluded the tree could become a hazard over the winter and decided it had to come down, Womack said.

"Over the last couple of years, for some reason the squirrels have just attacked this particular tree," Womack said.

You'd never hear a story like this about possums.

Bad, bad squirrels.

posted by Terry at 4:06:00 PM

And speaking of Canadians, via The Fat Guy, a link to Jane Galt's tribute page of yesterday, in which a photo of the WTC was presented with the poem In Flanders Fields.

Major (later Lieutenant-Colonel) John McCrae, the author of the poem, was a surgeon attached to the Canadian 1st Field Artillery Brigade and wrote the poem after the death of a friend during the fighting along the Ypres Salient. This link is a short and nicely done biography of McCrae.

By the way, I just had to add The Fat Guy into my much too cumbersome list of people I try to read every day, if for no other reason than his bio page.

[...] I read a ton of books, listen to a lot of music, eat a lot of food, and love my Kubota tractor. I don't get to drive the tractor often enough. My plan for this little space is to use it to inject my own viewpoints into the web. I've got close friends (and a really insistent wife) that tell me I should be writing regularly. So this is where I am going to do that. I don't personally believe that I have the skill or talent to engage anything approaching a readership, but this might just sharpen that dull blade. The probable end-point to this is that I will quit my job to write full-time, become impoverished and alcoholic, fail disasterously, lose my family and friends, and die in a cold room, utterly unlamented. [...]

Ah, such are the dreams of all nascent writers. He goes on to say that his Kubota is his penultimate tool. We can only hope he does not favor us with paeans to his ultimate tool.

posted by Terry at 3:08:00 PM

Canada Happy That U.S. Going to U.N. on Iraq

Bob and Doug happy that Moosehead is giving away posters, eh.

You know, at one time there were Canadians who were motivated by things like this:

I tend to think there might still be a few.

posted by Terry at 1:25:00 PM

DUI? No way, dude.

posted by Terry at 1:09:00 PM

Last night after church, we had to stop at Wal-Mart for some of life's little necessities--mosquito repellent, cough medicine, yellow yarn for Baby Girl's school project, caffeinated beverage to keep me awake on the way home--and I sat in the van with the kids as Reba went inside. The kids were each carrying on a conversation, and each was completely unrelated to the others going on. Aaargh! I turned on the radio and tried to listen to something other than "you have boogers--i read about a horse--look at my leg--my eye hurts--look at my finger--what stinks." I turned it over to our local public radio station WBHM (yes, I do listen to NPR on occasion--there is nothing like a good dose of Daniel Schorr to top off my blood pressure) and just happened to tune in to NPR's 9/11: Musical Voices of Reflection

On 9/11/01, National Symphony Orchestra Music Director and BBC Orchestra Chief Conductor Leonard Slatkin was in London preparing for the Last Night of the Proms, the traditionally rousing English patriotic event closing out the 7-week long BBC Proms music festival Upon hearing what had happened back home, his first thought was that he shouldn't conduct the concert. Hear why Slatkin thought the "Ode to Joy" finale from Beethoven's Ninth was appropriate for the time, and how he got 7000 Londoners in Royal Albert Hall to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.

There is a link in the article to hear the interview--I assume the singing is part of the interview, but since I don't have speakers on my computer, I can't say for sure.

I can say this, though. I am not able to describe my emotions upon hearing this audience, singing as beautiful a rendition of our Anthem as I have ever heard. It was heartfelt and moving and incredible, and I would like to thank each person who was there and sang that night.

posted by Terry at 11:54:00 AM

My God, another screaming Nigerian is in need!

ATTN.

I PRINCE ABUGIWA ALI, SON OF THE LATE AMBROSE ALI,(FORMER EXECUTIVE GOVERNOR OF BENDEL STATE, PRESENTLY EDO STATE. MY FATHER WAS ARRESTED AND DETAINED BY THE MILITARY THAT TOPPLED THE DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED GOVERNMENT IN 1983. MY FATHER DIED IN DETENTION DO TO LONG DETENTION AND TORTURE DO TO A MISSING FUND UNDER HIS ADMINISTRATION. SINCE THEN THE FAMILY HAD BEEN UNDER SURVELLANCE BY THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT AND THE SITUATION IS NOT HELPING MATTERS.

RECENTLY, SEARCHING THROUGH MY FATHER'S SECRET DOCUMENTS I FOUND OUT THAT, THE FUND WAS TRANSFERED TO A SECURITY VOLT IN EUROPE WHERE HE MY FATHER (CHIEF AMBROS ALI, LATE), DEPOSITED THE FUND BEFORE HE DIED. THIS FUND IS A TOTAL SUM OF FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION US DOLLARS($450,000,000).

NOW I WANT TO SET-UP A BUSINESS IN EUROPE WITH THE FUND, AND HEREBY DECIDED TO CONTACT YOUR ASSISTANCE TO HELP IN RETRIEVING THE FUND FROM THE SECURITY VOLT IN EUROPE. IF YOU CAN DO IT, YOU WILL BE ALLOWED 30% OF THE TOTAL FUND AND TO DEDUCT ALL EXPENSES THAT WILL ACCRUE THROUGH THE PROCESS OF RETRIEVING THE FUND.

ONCE, I RECIEVE YOU CONSENT OF ASSISTANCE I WILL MAKE EVERY DOCUMENT AVAILABLE THAT WILL LEAD TO THE RETRIEVING OF THE FUND. pLEASE I WILL LIKE YOU TO SEND ALL REPLY THROUGH EMAIL BECAUSE MY FAMILY IS UNDER SURVELLANCE BY THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, IN THIS CASE I HAVE KNOW ACCESS TO TELEPHONE.

PLEASE, MAKE THIS BUSINESS A TOP SECRET, BECAUSE IT IS MY LIFE AND MY FAMILY'S LIFE. ANY LEAKAGE OF INFORMATION TO THE PUBLIC WILL LEAD TO THE ARREST OF THE ENTIER FAMILY.

PLEASE, SEND YOUR PHONE NO., FAX.

I NEED YOUR MUTUAL ASSISTANCE AND CO-OPERATION FOR THIS BUSINESS.

BEST REGARDS,

PRINCE: ABUGIWA ALI(JR).

THIS looks like a job for...POSSUM MAN!

(For those who are new to Possumblog, a bit of background information:)

Escaping near death after being hit by an out-of-control nuclear waste truck while crossing the road, Possum Man soon found he had developed extraordinary crime-fighting powers. With his brain now shrunken to the size of a walnut, he lost all fear (along with good sense) and could be found waddling stealthily into the secret lairs of evil-doers. Quietly using his opposable hind toes and his prehensile tail to defuse bombs (usually successfully) and dial the telephone to order pizza (never a misdial), Possum Man is feared by all of your better known nefarious, ne'er do-well types. Even when trapped in seemingly dire situations, he is able to confuse and nauseate his captors with his ability to feign death or expel horrid scent gland secretions, all while wearing a soft and stylish fur coat.

Forced by society (because he looks more or less like a giant rat, and he smells, and he hisses when angry) to live in his Secret Tree Nest of the Forest (which is actually just a mobile home up on 4 foot high pilings--he does have TiVo, though, and a really cool '87 Firebird), Possum Man nonetheless carries out his sworn duty to root out the grubs of evil across the land, especially his archnemesis, the Budweiser Ferret, who with his incessant "whi-ee, whi-ee, whi-ee" sound, managed to score with all the chicks and make it big on the TV.

He does have his weaknesses, of course, as do all superheroes--he is not bulletproof, the sight of an onrushing car makes him faint, and he is easily confused by...well, by basically anything.

So then, I...I mean, Possum Man hurriedly scrambles into his furry costume (taking special care to avoid stepping on the tail, because the last time it came off as he was getting into the Possum-Mobile, and it kinda dragged along under the car and got hung on the tailpipe and smelled like burning foam rubber), and leaps into action!

Possum Man will SAVE YOU, PRINCE: ABUGIWA ALI(JR), o son of former executive governor!

Just wait a second...here, ah...keys-keys-keys...anyone seen the keys to the Firebird? On what hook? Nope, they're not there...you sure they aren't...oh, wait, I couldn't take it anyway. Remember, the front u-joint is loose. Did Lizano bring back the company car? Hmm. Well, I'm sure as heck not gonna walk out in the heat in this costume. Hold on a minute, PRINCE: ABUGIWA ALI(JR).

(Three hours later)

Okay--look, PRINCE: ABUGIWA ALI(JR), I realize that there is probably no other person around who could break into the SECURITY VOLT IN EUROPE and get your money. And you've got that big stack of documents and all, and you're screaming and under SURVELLANCE and such, and I mean, 30% of $450 mil is a pretty sweet deal for doing something that us superheroes usually don't charge for--that's probably close to...7 or 8 thousand dollars, or something. And it's not that I don't want your little business deal to go bad, but, well, I just can't get around to it today. I'm real sorry.

posted by Terry at 10:54:00 AM

A Decade of Deception and Defiance -- Saddam Hussein's Defiance of the United Nations

A Decade of Deception and Defiance serves as a background paper for President George W. Bush's September 12th speech to the United Nations General Assembly. This document provides specific examples of how Iraqi President Saddam Hussein has systematically and continually violated 16 United Nations Security Council resolutions over the past decade. This document is not designed to catalogue all of the violations of UN resolutions or other abuses of Saddam Hussein’s regime over the years.

For more than a decade, Saddam Hussein has deceived and defied the will and resolutions of the United Nations Security Council by, among other things: continuing to seek and develop chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons, and prohibited long-range missiles; brutalizing the Iraqi people, including committing gross human rights violations and crimes against humanity; supporting international terrorism; refusing to release or account for prisoners of war and other missing individuals from the Gulf War era; refusing to return stolen Kuwaiti property; and working to circumvent the UN’s economic sanctions.

The text of President Bush's speech may be found here.

[...] We cannot stand by and do nothing while dangers gather. We must stand up for our security, and for the permanent rights and the hopes of mankind. By heritage and by choice, the United States of America will make that stand. And, delegates to the United Nations, you have the power to make that stand, as well.

posted by Terry at 10:02:00 AM

I know he's now the IcthyPundit, but maybe with fascinating stories like this--Keiko the killer whale, of 'Free Willy' fame, seems healthy after sluggish period--maybe we could convince Mac to become the CetaceaPundit. (One wishes for a good 'dangerous walrus' story, then he could be the PinnipedPundit.) Me? I'm stickin' to marsupials.

posted by Terry at 9:46:00 AM

From Fritz Schranck over at Sneaking Suspicions, who listens to the echoes of the old motto "Jet Noise--The Sound of Freedom."--

[...] The earsplitting exhaust of Navy fighter planes will continue, but not over our heads. It will be heard in the other places the planes need to be, flying over other, far more hostile places.

I don’t blithely downplay the risks that the men and women operating these and other fighting machines will face as they complete their upcoming missions.

On the other hand, those in the nation's military services now have another, special job to do, and most of this country’s citizens understand and accept that fact.

Thousands of people in uniform are doing their part to make sure the rest of us can look forward to noticing the routine lines of our lives.

To those folks, I simply say, "Thank you. Good luck, and Godspeed."

Amen.

One thing I do recall on that warm night a year ago was despite there being no commercial air traffic, there was the slow, deep rumble of the Alabama Air Guard's 117th Air Refueling Wing's KC-135Rs, based here in Birmingham. They have flown ever single day since then. 366 days and counting, perfoming one of the most demanding and exacting jobs around, the air-to-air refueling of the combat air patrols protecting the Eastern seaboard. I remember when they flew RF-4Cs as the 117th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing, and being a bit disappointed when the Phantoms gave way to the 135s back in 1994--after all, the Birmingham wing had been doing some sort of photo recon or observation since 1922, and those F-4s were wicked cool looking--but hearing those big gas tanks lumbering around a year ago, and every day since, now makes me indescribably proud.

Members of the one of the plane crews were interviewed by one of our local television stations while on a night mission, which aired last night. It is hard to describe the professionalism and patriotism of these men, my neighbors, who in their normal lives are lawyers and mechanics and salesmen. The work is tedious, and monotonous, and butt-puckeringly dangerous, but as they said, after the attack last year the meaning and value of their work became much more clear.

Summo Est Opportunitas.

posted by Terry at 9:21:00 AM

Yesterday being what it was, there is a tendency to miss out on some stuff, such as Lileks' regular Wednesday installment for Newhouse News--"A New Era of Irrelevance for France" As always, read it all, but here is a nice échantillon:

[...] President Jacques Chirac, desperately attempting to be relevant, gave an interview in which he proposed that the United Nations give Iraq at least three weeks to admit inspectors. If Saddam Hussein didn't behave this time, well, the United Nations would bring out the super-mean frown it reserves for true rogue states, like Israel and Texas.

Not to say Chirac doesn't want Saddam out. "One can wish for it. I do wish for it, naturally." Yes, and if wishes were Euros we'd all have a pile of ugly money.

He can wish for it because his nation, and the rest of the dithering EUnichs, are utterly incapable of doing anything about it. All they have is the full weight of their moral stature. You know, the moral gravity that comes from two millenniums of despotism, monarchy, fascism and communism, topped off with the red cherry of democracy the United States dropped after it saved them from their latest march into hell. [...]

posted by Terry at 8:35:00 AM

Comfort in Times of Trouble: Iraq Says Will Repel Any Attack with Knives, Stones --Republican Guard says everyone else will have to fend for selves with twigs and paper.

posted by Terry at 8:16:00 AM

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

Nathaniel McCord, one of the folks who keep our F-16s floating along, and one of the tiny cadre of Possumblog readers, sends a link to the following story, noting that it gives a whole new meaning to "burning a hole in your pocket."

Study Shows Some People Allergic to Euro Coins

The study by scientists at the University of Zurich showed that one- and two-euro coins released large quantities of nickel if left in prolonged contact with the skin.

Nickel can cause serious allergic reactions including eczema, particularly in people who are sensitive to the metal.

The study enlisted the help of seven patients.

"After 48 and 72 hours with these coins fixed by transparent tape onto their skin, all seven patients showed a strong reaction with erythema, infiltration and formation of vesicles," the researchers wrote.

It said the culprit was sweat which eroded the metal in the coins and released up to 320 times the amount of nickel allowed under the European Union Nickel Directive.

However, the Nickel Development Institute promptly hit back, arguing people were unlikely to be clutching the offending euro coins for so long and that the study was therefore flawed. [...]

PEOPLE OF EUROPE! DO NOT TAPE EURO COINS TO YOUR BODIES FOR 48 TO 72 HOURS! (ALTHOUGH LESS THAN 48 MIGHT BE JUST FINE!)

Despite the fact that change is much less likely to fall out of your pockets if it is attached to your skin, it is bound to be awfully uncomfortable to walk around like that, not to mention the pain that comes with actually having to spend the coins thus attached, what with all of the hair pulling and stuff. Unless you shave your arms or legs or whatever else it is to which you attach your coins. But that sort of chafes, too, now doesn't it. Maybe a nice nickel-resistant coin purse would be nice. The EU could supply one free-of-charge to every person in Europe. That works.

Well, maybe that, and a pair of plastic tongs to fish them out of the purse. Except, plastic is not environmentally friendly, so maybe you could just open the purse and dump out a few coins on the counter. Then, of course, the poor shopkeeper would have to figure a way to pick them up. Maybe just dump your coins from your purse into his purse. There, now. All fixed

Silly Europeans.

posted by Terry at 4:49:00 PM

Hope for Araby

Quana Jones introduces us to Mohammed-Bob.

posted by Terry at 4:08:00 PM

YOUTH

Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of sixty more than a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether sixty or sixteen, there is in every human being's heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing child-like appetite of what's next, and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from the infinite, so long are you young.

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at twenty, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch the waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at eighty.

Samuel Ullman was born in Germany in 1840. At the age of eleven, he and his family moved to the United States and settled in Port Gibson, Mississippi. After briefly serving in the Confederate Army, he became a resident of Natchez, Mississippi. There, Ullman married, started a business, served as a city alderman, and was a member of the local board of education.

In 1884, Ullman moved to the young city of Birmingham, Alabama and was immediately placed on the city's first board of education.

During his eighteen years of service, he advocated educational benefits for black children similar to those provided for whites. In addition to his numerous community activities, Ullman also served as president and then lay rabbi of the city's reform congregation at Temple Emanu-El. Often controversial but always respected, Ullman left his mark on the religious, educational, and community life of Natchez and Birmingham.

In his retirement, Ullman found more time for one of his favorite passions - writing letters, essays and poetry. His poems and poetic essays cover subjects as varied as love, nature, religion, family, the hurried lifestyle of a friend, and living "young." It was General Douglas MacArthur who facilitated Ullman's popularity as a poet - he hung a framed copy of a version of Ullman's poem "Youth" on the wall of his office in Tokyo and often quoted from the poem in his speeches. Through MacArthur's influence, the people of Japan discovered "Youth" and became curious about the poem's author.

It is appropriate that "Youth" is the element that brought Ullman's life into public scrutiny. The message of "Youth," its emphasis on optimism and its challenge to remain true to one's ideals, reflects the substance of Ullman's life. Spanning the experience of immigrant, soldier, businessman, and progressive community activist, Samuel Ullman's story continues to provide inspiration to the world community decades after his death.

Ullman died in Birmingham in 1924. His home has been turned into a museum operated by the University of Alabama at Birmingham. (Link is to the museum's webpage, from which the above material was copied.)

posted by Terry at 3:07:00 PM

Nice round number, 50 is. One half a hundred, twice twenty-five--it has a certain mellow sound, a roundness and evenness that is...inspiring. Much like the 50th Installment of the Scourging of Richard Cohen. Charles Austin yet again dips his pen into the pixel jar and lets loose with a good'n.

Charles also sent an e-mail along earlier noting the electronic curtain I had drawn over my minor maunderings--a black screen with the word "Remember." He noted that remembrance is a fine thing, but only part of the equation. "Remember. Yes, but also act." Indeed. And the idea of necessary action is the reason President Jackson's quote sits there at the top of this column. Paying our respects is only a step in obtaining justice for those whose lives have been taken.

As for what form that justice would take, I offer you the thoughts of my mom, a sweet woman of good humor and grace and 73 years upon this planet: "They want to be martyrs? Fine. Let's make them martyrs. Every last damn one of them."

posted by Terry at 2:06:00 PM

You know what's great about America?

I mean, aside from the obvious.

It's that every person on this terrible anniversary has decided for himself how best to mark it. Some went to the park outside my window--firemen from all the small communities in the county and school kids and office workers and politicians--and patiently stood beside the freshly washed fire engines and honored the memory of those who fell hundreds of miles away. Some marked the time quietly at home, turning off the television and walking with their kids in the bright sunshine. Some poured their thoughts into prose and poetry, searching for some way to make sense of the senseless. Some did nothing different. But they all did as they pleased. No matter what anyone else said about what was "most appropriate," 281,421,906 people made up their own minds to celebrate or commemorate or sanctify or ponder or ignore or anguish or hate or honor this time as they saw fit.

You want yourself a "root cause"?

We are a free people.

As long as one of us is alive, freedom is alive.

That's what's great about America.

posted by Terry at 1:34:00 PM

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Just back from lunch (yes, it was very good, thank you--blackened catfish, green beans & broccoli) with my pretty wife and we got to talking about our youngest's run-in with the ground yesterday, and both of us, it seemed, had been mulling over what all COULD have happened--concussions, brain injuries, no little blue eyes--but thankfully DIDN'T happen. As we sat there, I suddenly remembered something that happened in my childhood.

Paternally-derived genetical predisposition to dare-devilry apparently explains a lot of my child's behavior.

From the time I was about 5 to when I was 9, I had something called Legg-Perthes disease, which causes the head of the femur to flatten out. (Not only does it affect humans, it also afflicts small canines. Go figure.) The treatment for this way back then (and now) was to keep the affected leg raised up off the ground with a fixed leg brace to allow the femur to regrow. When I didn't have on the leg brace, I was on crutches, holding up my left foot a few inches off the ground.

Despite the fact that I was what we now call "differently-abled" (and back then was just a plain old crippled), I never really slowed down very much. I could run on crutches about as fast as any of the other kids, and could make pretty good time even with a leg brace (although I had an odd sort of Herman Munster-looking gait). I could go up and down stairs, get in and out of cars and just about anything else. One day I decided to see if I could run downhill.

Our old house sat at the bottom of a steep slope. Up top in the rear was the driveway where we parked, and it was as high as the roof of the house. Now, this was not impressive height--the house, after all was just your normal post-war bungalow, so the top of the roof was probably no more than about 15 feet high. What it lacked in height was made up for in steepness, though. Did I mention it was steep?

At the time, I thought I could use my crutches and run down the hill and catch myself on the little area close to the house that flattened out for about five feet as it led up to where the sidewalk was. I don't know why I thought I could do this.

So then, we have Me, a chubby child of about 7 or 8, standing high upon the edge of the asphalt driveway, peering across the roof of the house and down the slope toward the dark green cedar shake siding on the back of the house, with visions of I'm not sure what running through my head. At last the time came and I launched out on two crutches and one leg (the other leg held ever so daintily up from ground to promote healing), down the 60 degree slope.

I made it just fine all the way to the bottom, with the jumble of golden ash sticks flailing mightily to keep up with my forward momentum. I was home free until I hit that part that flattened out. I kept going down at the same slope, but the ground didn't. However, I didn't just corkscrew into the ground--I was sufficiently close to the house that I was able to maintain some forward speed and smacked my whole face onto the rough cedar shakes and the iron water spigot sticking out of the wall, right under the kitchen window. Gosh, hadn't seen THAT there. (Not that it would have made a difference.)

The underside of my nose, right beside the septum, just below the nostril, grazed the handle of the spigot, and in concert with the wall of the house, slowed me sufficiently so that I came to a nice, dazed stop crumpled onto the sidewalk. After a second, I realized I was a) still alive, and b) probably going to catch hell for this, and c) bleeding from under my nose, and d) gonna REALLY be in trouble. I didn't dare cry, or I would have been found out, so I hobbled inside (still managing to keep my left foot up off the ground) and grabbed a wet paper towel. Sometime afterwards, I finally told my mom what I had done. "I don't guess you'll do that anymore, will you?" "No ma'am."

And I haven't.

Although I do feel sort of bad that I managed to pass this peculiar trait along to my little baby.

posted by Terry at 1:27:00 PM

Governor transfers funds to education budget

MONTGOMERY, Ala. (AP) -- Gov. Don Siegelman has transferred $20 million from two special accounts into the state's education budget and will shift more this month to prevent spending cuts before the end of the current fiscal year on Sept. 30.

Finance Director Henry Mabry said the education budget is running about $90 million short but the governor will be able to transfer funds from various accounts to make up the shortfall. He said the governor will not have to tap into a $250 million dollar "rainy day account" that voters approved to prevent education budget cuts.

"We'll get through the year, and we won't touch the rainy day account," Mabry said Monday.

The Legislature passed a law earlier this year that allows the governor to transfer up to $82.1 million from various state accounts to prevent education budget cuts, known as proration.

Mabry said the administration last week transferred $18 million from a fund for state computer services and $2 million from a fund for state phone services. The other money available includes $26.1 million from the Capital Improvement Trust Fund and $36 million from the sale or lease of so-called 16th section lands given to Alabama counties in the 1800s for school use.

Covington County schools have gone to court to block the transfer of 16th section lands, saying that money was meant to remain untouched and held in trust for public schools.

As of the end of August, tax receipts that go into the education budget were up by about $5 million over this time last year. However, lawmakers had planned for growth of about $95 million when they passed the budget, leaving it with the $90 million shortfall. [...]

Wow. Safe for one more fiscal year. Maybe.

Hard to believe there's not a better way to fund schools, isn't it? But heavens-to-Betsy, let's not try to figure it out. Let's keep looking under the couch cushions and in the change tray in the car, because we always find a little something there, don't we? And instead of trying to figure out why we're having to pay so much, let's figure out a way to pay more, because you know that means Quality Education™. It's for The Children™, after all, and you want them to have a Quality Education™, don't you? Good thing we've got some of the highly educated products of the Alabama school system working for us and The Children™ down in Montgomery, or we all might just be lost--LOST I SAY!--as we stumble around all befuddled like.

Thank you, Alabama's Elected Officials™ for guiding us through this barren land! To show our gratitude, please feel free to plunder whatever money we send to you to make sure your lot in life is a comfortable one, and to insure that your friends are able to compete amongst themselves for table scraps. Maybe a nice fat computer contract or two would help those nice folks out.

posted by Terry at 11:43:00 AM

Telemarketing Silent on Sept. 11

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) - Recognizing that many Americans won't be in the mood for getting sales calls, many of the nation's telemarketers plan to take the day off Wednesday.

Sept. 11 is a day for people to be with their families, said Perry Young, director of a telemarketing center in Omaha run by Call Solutions Inc., of Waukesha, Wis.

"If I received a call at home on that day from somebody trying to sell me something, I would be personally offended," Young said. [...]

Perry, for the record, I am offended every other single stinkin' day of the year when you call--one day off is just not gonna cut it.

posted by Terry at 11:25:00 AM

And the Possum Goes To...

From The Charlotte Observer, a story about the Urbies '02--Let's read along, shall we?

MARY NEWSOM

Urbies '02 Praising -- and pooh-poohing -- recent developments

This marks the sixth year I've given Urbie awards. During that time, I've heard one question about the awards more frequently than all others rolled together: Why the dead possum?

I'll answer below. But first, a recap for new readers. The Urbie awards recognize people, places, buildings and decisions that push Charlotte and its region into acting more like a city and less like an amorphous, air-polluting blob of sprawl. The Urbie icon shows a modest, rather lovable city building. If more city buildings looked like Urbie, maybe not quite so many people would hate cities quite so much.

Unfortunately, I don't have a prize budget. Winners receive only the warm glow of knowing their good works are publicly recognized.

Urbies, however, are just half the story. I also note those ugly buildings and places, plus venal (or simply knuckleheaded) decisions that make urban living not urbane, but unpleasant. Those things are noted by possum roadkill -- an icon I selected for the Urbies' 1996 debut because ...

I confess. I picked it because I was desperate. I needed art, and thumbing through a folder of clip art I found the building, then noticed the possum. I loved its tiny helpless feet and the lolling of its disgusting tongue. I can rationalize about roadkill and wildlife habitat loss, but the truth is I just think the possum is cute. [...]

I would like to thank the Academy, and my partner, and all of the cast and crew--you guys are great--and everyone else without which this...sorry...::sniff:: this. would. not. be possible. Thank you all! Goodnight!

posted by Terry at 10:55:00 AM

Adventures Along the Redneck Riviera--Janis Gore talks about the joys of travel with her spouse and avian companion. (And I thought it was tough to travel with kids...)

posted by Terry at 10:33:00 AM

Lileks reflects on the humble blog (which is nothing like humble pie):

I’m not saying the blogs I read are good because they’re trivial. They’re not. But most good blogs I read display no sense of limitation; they’re not constrained by the need to be Important every time they approach the mike, so they develop a sense of personality much quicker than a newspaper columnist ever can. In 94 out of 100 cases this means the work is crap, but in the 6 out 100 it means you get the sort of column newspapers will never run. Or could. Or should. No matter how casual you dress for your newspaper job, you still can’t help feeling as if the paper itself is a tuxedo. At the very least you stand up straight.

Possumblog: Unconstrained by the Need to be Important Since December, 2001 (But Still Firmly in the 94/100 Category).

posted by Terry at 10:16:00 AM

Never chase your ball down the hill... OR,
It's not the speed, it's the sudden stop at the end.

Last night was soccer practice for the Little Squirt. I got home and found her all ready to go (except for her cleats) and in a chipper mood, not doubt due to the fun she had in kindergarten all day, witnessed by the wide variety of stains on the little white shirt I sent her to school in that morning. Red mud, blue ink from a ink stamper she sneaked out of the house, grass, ketchup--she was a walking Tide commercial. Swap smooches with wife and it was back in the van and over to the park.

We arrived right at 6, which normally would have meant that practice had already started, but Atomic Firebaby's coach lives way, WAY up in Blount County, and even though she home schools her kids, and even though they are on her team, and even though she set up the practice time, she never quite arrives at 6. So, we wait. A couple of other of Cat's little friends come by and they play beside me on the bleachers, bouncing their soccer balls against each other, trying their darndest to get them to roll to the bottom of the hill. "Uh-uh, don't do that--it'll roll down to the bottom!" And it is a BIG hill--top to bottom is probably about 20 feet of elevation. Once the ball goes, it goes. "O-kayyyyy Daddeeeee!" Wicked little grin. We wait some more.

And some more. We decided to get up and go around to one of the other fields to see if we had missed the coach, and walked past one of the upper fields where a group of little boys were practicing.

I take a moment for an aside here, to speak to all of the young mamas and daddies around here--if you decide to give your child a snooty-sounding British name, such as...oh, let's say "Colin," for the love of all that is holy, please get some lessons on how to pronounce it. As we walked by, one of the mom's was screaming "Come on, Colon! Run, Colon!" I don't know the kid, maybe he's in alimentary school or something, but Mom, PLEASE call him "Collin." Short "o," or even the much beloved schwa, with a short "i." Please, anything but "colon." And don't call his little brother Semicolon. We now return to our story.

As we rounded the fence, some of the other team parents had also walked around to see if they had missed the coach, and were in a deep discussion of the coach and her no-showness. I decided to go back and sit down, so I turned Girl around and started slowly walking back toward the concession stand. She put her ball down and started kicking it a bit. "Be careful, sugar." "Hehehehehehehee!" "Hey! Don't roll it down..." Bounce, bounce, roll, bounce. "Heheheheheee!" ::heavy sigh::

"Walk down there and get it." Off she goes, full tilt. Of course. "SLOW! DOWN!" Well, she did even better than slowing down--she reached the bottom of the hill and stopped dead in her tracks, managing to arrest her fall with her face and knees. Up she sits, squawling and screaming bloody murder. Oh crap, crap, CRAP! I walked down the hill and found her covered up with snot and dirt and grass and sweat and tears and slobber. It was one of those terrible times in a parent's life when you don't know whether to go into full panic mode or play it cool so as not to panic the kid and make it even worse. I decided to panic inside and remain noncommittal outside. We brushed off the loose stuff and then Panic nearly broke down the stall and galloped through the crowd when I saw a little rivulet of blood and tears running down her cheek from her left eye. I wiped it away, and a smaller bit came through, and thankfully it looked like it was going to be minor. We finally got the weeping down to a mild case of the sniffles and walked the long set of stairs back up to the concession stand, put some ice water on a napkin and put it on all the boo-boos, and waited some more for the coach. "I want my mommy." "I know, Sweaty-Pie, (yes, that is a South Pacific reference, and yes, I do call her that sometimes because it makes her giggle) we'll go home and see her and let you tell her all about running after your ball."

"I'm not going to run that way NO MORE!"

Let's hope not!

(Update--I also forgot to mention that while sitting quietly with cold compresses, Tiny Girl was viciously attacked by mosquitoes. The result of which were not seen until bathtime, at which time she had huge welts all over her legs. They coordinated nicely with the huge raspberry on her knee and the tumblerash on her cheek. This morning she was sent to school with 12 big Band-Aid Brand Bug Bite Bandaids all over her meaty little limbs and I await a phone call from some state agency wondering what I have been subjecting her to.)

posted by Terry at 8:40:00 AM

Monday, September 09, 2002

Please go read Quana Jones and her Stint With the Prickish Princes. A sampling:

[...] By and by I was assigned to 'work with' them on a project. As an aside: what I didn't know at the time and learned later was that they'd already pissed off everyone else assigned to them. All the other chemists and engineers had refused to work with them, even under threat of dismissal. I was the newest kid on the block, I was more than competent at my work and someone finally decided to burden me with these ignorant young men. Just another example of an instance when doing your job well pays off with a nice, hard kick in the ass. [...]

posted by Terry at 4:57:00 PM

What a day. Sorry to ignore all of you today, but sometimes things just get in the way. In any event, a bit over a year ago, before I ever started blogging (this pile of diddlewomp only dates back to December), I decided to write down some of my thoughts over on my tiny little GeoCities site. In particular, this running essay, which I began partly as a documentary of what was going on in the days after the attacks of September 11, both for my own weak memory and as something for my kids to be able to read someday. And it partly was therapy, I guess. I will not be adding anything else to that essay after today, and since I haven't blogged anything today, I will put up the last entry here. (Nothing really profound in there, but I don't think you came here for that, anyway.)

It is now nearly a year.

Wednesday will see me back at work as usual, again doing another Design Review Committee meeting, and still in the midst of working on another silly PowerPoint presentation for a neighborhood group, and still having to wrestle with the guys downstairs to be able to keep the laptop and projector up here on this floor so we can practice.

The three younger kids are playing soccer now, the oldest is playing in the middle school band. I turned 40 back in July. Fall came early this year (or it just got too dry) and the hickory tree in the back yard looks dead rather than dormant. Kelly won on American Idol.

Back a year ago, the mood was that the world had changed in some sort of indescribable way—Americans were no longer safely isolated from the world (of course, during the Cold War we were all only about 15 minutes away from being obliterated by Russian nukes, but that seems not to count in some folks reckoning of how isolated you might be); we were no longer able to dismiss the concerns of the Arab/Muslim/Oppressed/Victim/Guy-With-A-Chip-On-His-Shoulder-and-Voices-In-His-Head communities (although it has always been open for discussion as to whether they really care whether or not we’re concerned about them, as long as we are either a) dead, b) converts to Islam, or c) willing to give them all the money we have, including that little bit stashed under the cash drawer); we were no longer able to enjoy irony (yet, we still have Bill Clinton telling us what he would do if he were the President, which he managed to avoid for eight years whilst enjoying various games of internal intern investigations); we were not alone in our suffering, as the world also felt the loss we suffered (until, it seems, we decided to actually fight back against those who murdered over 3,000 of the world’s citizens, at which time we once again became ignorant reckless cowboys, just like we were on September 10, 2001); we were no longer Democrats and Republicans, we decided to be Americans (unless we are trying to keep from getting defeated in November by the Republicans, in which case we decide that being a Democrat requires us to fall back to previously held positions that Republicans are crazed, ignorant reckless cowboys who are more interesting in bathing in crude oil and eating starving crack babies than in important things like making sure everyone votes Democratic).

So, a year away and what do we have? A world where there is still danger, and love, and happiness, and misery. A world where killing innocents is tolerated if done for the right reason, a world where exacting justice against the unjust is frowned upon. A world of sublime beauty, and terrible horror. A world where the name of God is invoked for all the wrong reasons, and seldom for the proper ones. A world where poverty, and tyranny, and hunger, and injustice continue to exist. A world where prosperity, and liberty, and plenty, and justice are not seen as a birthright of all men, but somehow are looked upon as unfairly gained at the expense of all men. A world of confidence and vigor, of hopefulness and opportunity. A world of mothers and fathers trying to rear their children in a world free from fear and want. A world in which voices clamor for action, and as many clamor for inaction. A world in which there is war, and in which there is peace.

What then? A very wise man once wrote:

1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

9 What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?

10 I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.

11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

12 I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life
.
13 And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.

14 I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him.

15 That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.

16 And moreover I saw under the sun the place of judgment, that wickedness was there; and the place of righteousness, that iniquity was there.

17 I said in mine heart, God shall judge the righteous and the wicked: for there is a time there for every purpose and for every work.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-17 KJV)

The world has not really changed—for better or worse, it’s still the same thing. Which means the horror of what happened a year ago should be remembered. Those who gave their lives should be mourned. And swift justice should be brought to those who would dare attempt such a thing again.

posted by Terry at 4:02:00 PM

I will be non-blogatory most of today due to circumstances well beyond my control, namely dumb old work stuff. (This is necessary because Harrison Ford has still not sent me a check for a million dollars.)

posted by Terry at 9:43:00 AM

Friday, September 06, 2002

Getting on close to quitting time here at the Fun Ranch, so let's run down the weekend forecast, shall we?

Tonight, slight chance of laundry, followed by widely scattered evening baths and heavy snoring late into the evening. Saturday will see heavy early morning precipitation of soccer balls as Boy bravely goes forth to play a practice game with other kids who are mostly little turds, then there will be a return of laundry with light dusting of furniture. Saturday afternoon will witness a catfight in The Jungle as the Western Carolina Catamounts travel down to the Plains to tangle with the Auburn Tigers. I kinda got caught last week by my score prediction that didn't quite come true, so this time I will say that Auburn OUGHT to win. Sunday better be nice and quiet, or else.

Last night's soccer practice was mercifully cool. It got up to 99 degrees yesterday, but some storms moved around to the west of us and cooled it off. Catherine had fun, and Rebecca has fun. Jonathan had to deal with little brats with DDD (discipline deficit disorder). They had The English Guy (Gareth Goddard--scroll down and you can read about him) helping out last night, and he gets so put-out with these hyperactive little snots. They wind up having to do laps and pushups nearly every minute just to get them to stop moving when he says "stop" and shut up when he says "listen." And of course the whole squad has to run or do push-ups, which makes Jonathan sad because he's trying to listen and play the game, and there is no mechanism for the kids who try hard to take the chatty ones out behind the woodshed for a little extra attitude adjustment. Then when Gareth was trying to get everyone lined up to start a game, some big kid took Jonathan's ball away and started tormenting him with it.

What to do? Let Little Boy figure it out himself (which would have required a swift kick in the giblets for Bullybrat--let's face it folks, there's no other way to reason with a bully) and get in trouble for assaulting some missing-in-action parent's precious DNA experiment; OR intervene with massively asymmetrical Dadly force, which doesn't help Little Boy learn much about overcoming the obstacles in life, but does give him some relief and keeps the whole team from having to run a lap because some goon wasn't listening to the coach.

When in doubt, there is no substitute for firepower.

I walked over, intending to be firm but polite. "Son, don't you think it's a bit mean to pick on little kids--and someone who's on YOUR OWN team?" I took the ball and gave it to Jonathan, and the big kid just gave me a dull look about ten feet behind my head, "Aw, I watn't doin' nuthin'--just playin'."

You know, there are times when you are really mad that parents aren't around to control their kids, then there are times when it might just be a blessing. I nearly bit my teeth in two clenching them so hard--"Hush your mouth and go GET in that lineup!" It was just above a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear. No more trouble after that.

SO, kids, don't be a bully, love your mama, do what your coach says, and things will tend to work out pretty well one way or another. Then come back on Monday, and we'll have some MORE fun!

posted by Terry at 5:04:00 PM

Aw, come on now, this is neat even if you don't like the French--French Present Honorary Knighthood to AU Professor

AUBURN -- The French government has named Auburn University Professor F. Stephen Dobson as a Chevalier dans l'Order des Palmes Academiques for his outstanding contributions to the scientific culture of France.

The designation -- Knight in the Order of the Academic Palmes -- is the French equivalent of a knighthood and is one of the highest honors given by the French government.

The award was presented to Dobson during a ceremony in July at the University of Paris. He was presented with a medal, a certificate and a Chevalier pin.

Jacques Lang, the minister of culture under Francois Mitterrand, and the minister of national educations under Lionel Jospin, formalized the honor.

Dobson's major research is in behavioral ecology. For the past seven years, he has been collaboratively working on mammalian social behavior at the University of Paris, and on the behavior and genetics of marine birds and mammals in the French Antarctic territories with Pierre Jouventin of the National Scientific Research Center in Montpellier. [...]

posted by Terry at 3:18:00 PM

Larry Anderson with stuff you learn in Real Life:

[...] I still discount a lot of what I hear about war preparations because I believe that our military can keep a secret quite well. On the other hand, the situation is not necessarily improving with time. The longer we wait, the more likely Saddam will be able to use whatever WMD he has. In the past few weeks, there have been a lot of stories about the reluctance of the military to go to war. I have no doubt that the senior military leadership has reservations. War is a serious undertaking and Generals will let the civilian leadership know the downside of any undertaking. But we should never doubt that when the President says go, the Armed Forces will go wholehheartedly. The American Armed Forces down to the individual soldier, sailor, airman and marine vowed to obey the civilan leadership and will do so. My career military friends express it this way: Tell the Boss how you feel about a decision he is about to make. If you think it is a bad one, tell him the reasons you think so. Keep on telling him until you are told to shut up, then do everything in your power to make his plans successful. I think the first part is what we have been seeing. Now we will probably soon see the "make it a success part."

posted by Terry at 2:19:00 PM

Hey! Spuddybuddy's back from husking corn! Drop by and ask him how the funnel cakes were.

posted by Terry at 2:08:00 PM

Natchez newspaper names Whipple new editor

First order of business to be locking up all the Charmin.

posted by Terry at 1:52:00 PM

Spotted Dick

Something has been strangely lacking in my life here lately...but wait! LOOK! It's a BIRD! It's a PLANE! It's the RETURN OF THE SCOURGE OF RICHARD COHEN! Charles Austin fights the good fight for truth, justice, and the American way--

[...] Nevertheless, I really, really, really wish Richard Cohen was right this time. Just once. If he were, then we would know the root cause of the murderous acts committed on September 11, 2002; and knowing the root cause it could be addressed without hesitation. Of course, there are many of us who think we already have a pretty good idea about root causes and are ready to apply a large dose of undiluted geopolitical Roundup to the noxious human weeds choking the life out of so many innocent lives. Alas, Richard misses the point, yet again, and spends his time ginning up pet theories twisted in a way to lay as much of the blame as possible on President George W. Bush while deflecting as much blame as possible from Bill Clinton and Al Gore. This is a difficult task and Richard’s quite estimable talents are inadequate to pull it off. We know what happened. We know when it happened. We know who did it. Unfortunately, Richard still doesn’t understand Why It Happened:

NEW YORK – "What should I write about 9/11?"…

That a group of murderous thugs, motivated by a perverse reading of Islam, sponsored and abetted by despotic regimes or terrorist organizations in the dodecahedron of evil (Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Somalia, Sudan, Libya, North Korea, China, the Palestinian Authority, and the IRA), apologized for by pomo bastards everywhere, defended by our former “friends” and “allies” who see a net gain for themselves in anything that brings the US down, committed an act of war against the United States of America. In the words of President George W. Bush, “We must make no distinction between the terrorists and the states that support them. It is not enough to root out the terrorists who committed this horrific act of war. We must dismantle the entire terrorist network.” And the clock is ticking…[...]

posted by Terry at 1:17:00 PM

Jeffco ready to halt supersewer work

Ah, the Supersewer. The county commissioner in charge has decided the kitchen is a bit too hot, and has decided to put forth a resolution to kill this thing. He blames the media, the tree-huggers, ignorant black people (he is black, too, but since some black people disagreed with him they are obviously being manipulated by the aforementioned media and tree-huggers) and a host of other things, except for maybe the real reason.

I am all for development and if that means running a sewer under the Cahaba several times, that just might be an okay thing--IF there had been such a thing as an open process in this whole deal. Secret meetings of public officials, no-bid contracts to the politically connected, huge amounts of money across and under the table (my money, by the way), and a general attitude of "let us real smart folks run things and you don't worry" are just a tiny fraction of all the things that are wrong with this mess.

Had there been some sort of public give-and-take and dispassionate presentation of facts and a concerted effort to insure that the State Constitution and the Commission's own rules were followed, much of this stupid fight might not have happened. That's not to say there still wouldn't be a sewer; it might BE the right solution.

But the right solution deserved to be worked out in the open, and done by the book.

posted by Terry at 12:01:00 PM

Hey! Where's his left hand?

posted by Terry at 11:38:00 AM

Iraq Says Airstrike Hit Civilians

BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) - Iraq on Friday accused U.S. and British planes of striking civilian targets during an air raid southwest of Baghdad, and it claimed its anti-aircraft batteries chased off the attacking jets.

The U.S. military said Thursday that American and British planes attacked an air defense command and control facility at a military airfield 240 miles southwest of Baghdad.

The U.S. Central Command said the strike was a response to an Iraqi attack on allied aircraft patrolling the southern no-fly zone.

On Friday, Iraqi state newspapers quoted an unidentified Iraqi military spokesman as saying enemy warplanes had attacked "civil and service installations" in the al-Rutbah area on Thursday. They gave no further details about the sites.

Iraq almost invariably accuses allied planes of attacking civilian targets.

"Our courageous anti-aircraft units confronted the jets and forced them to leave Iraqi skies," the military spokesman was quoted as saying. [...]

"...and then the courageous civilian workers went back to the making of peaceful baby milks. We try to protect our proud and happy baby milks workers by painting with the brush a large signs on the roof of the manufactory the words "Baby Milk Making Factory--Do Not Bombs," but the evil imperialist infidel dogs do not wish for the brave Iraqi babies to be having no milks at all."

UPDATE: This just in to Possumblog News Central--U.N. Nuclear Experts Detect Changes at Iraqi Sites

By Irwin Arieff

UNITED NATIONS (Reuters) - U.N. experts studying satellite photos of Iraq have identified new construction at several sites linked in the past to Baghdad's development of nuclear weapons, U.N. officials said Friday.

But the experts said they could not draw any conclusions on the significance of the changes at these sites until U.N. weapons inspectors can get in to see them on the ground.

"We see changes on the ground. But we don't draw any conclusions," said Mark Gwozdecky of the International Atomic Energy Agency, the Vienna-based nuclear regulatory arm of the United Nations. [...]

An unidentified Iraqi military spokesman stated "What? What for are you the funny-looking at us? Since we no longer are building the things to wipe your filth from our lands, and in fact never had things like that to begin with, if you must know we are only adding another production line for the manufacturing of the baby milks. Our young children are being starved, and so this is necessary. They drink much, MUCH baby milks. Go away from me now. You no need to be looking at anythings else."

posted by Terry at 11:34:00 AM

From the Possumblog Visitor's File:

First up, a kind soul apparently concerned about pathological liars in chat rooms. Since Possumblog was 16th on the search return, I know this person must be a bit desperate to find out information. Luckily, there is nothing to worry about. When I invented the original Internet "chat room" software back in 1982, I installed several safety filters to weed out anyone who might be a liar, so rest assured that when someone says she is a beautiful, voluptuous, blonde nymphomaniac who's into playing Doom and likes sweaty 16 year olds with poor complexions and low self-esteem, it is completely true.

Second, a really, really mean, mean person is looking for a Janet Reno Bobblehead Doll. You filthy Republican lackey! She has Parkinson's!

Finally, a soap opera fan wants to know about Pictures of marshall Hilliard on Guiding light. Boy howdy, did you ever come to the right place! Here ya go! Well, hold on...it was right here...ahhh, you know he was the fourth actor to play Hart Jessup? Yeah, you probably already knew that...I wonder if it put it underrrr, nope, that's not it. Umm amamamam...I had a whole stack of them, signed and everything--they were right beside my original copy of the first script from Passions, which was signed by the whole cast and crew...well darn. I don't know where that box got to. Just check back later.

posted by Terry at 10:05:00 AM

I get caught off guard yet again as I mumble to myself about the cow-pie-brained folks and Moira Breen overhears and I look up and everyone's trying to figure out whether to call the cops or the psych ward.

Well, for all of those who might be concerned that YOU are the target of my ranting about long-winded moronic twaddle, rest assured that you are the choir to whom I'm preaching. I get a lot of folks who stumble in here looking for newswoman p0rn and such, but those who come by regularly are a pretty levelheaded lot, at least judging by the letters I get.

Nope, who I was railing against were the addle-pated goofballs whose views of history have no basis in reality. There are the SA boys over on the far right, who although they know their history backwards and forwards, quote it the same way Satan quotes Scripture. Then there are the NKVD boys over on the far left who deny history ever existed and patiently carve rocks into wheels and curse us as we zip by in a car. After a while, it just gets awfully tiresome to try to discuss slavery reparations with someone who thinks the Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves, or Constitutional rights with someone who thinks our rights are granted us by our government.

So what do I do? Mostly I try to ignore this crap as much as possible in this forum and work on the spot where I think it will do the most good, namely my kids.

When I am long gone, there will be four more to take my place who at least have some basic idea that the promise of America--the idea that there are some truths which are self-evident, "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed"--is something all too rare in this world and a thing to be guarded jealously.

They will know that good men and women have bled an ocean of blood on behalf of those simple ideas--not for power or money or status--but for the notion that it is better to die free than live enslaved.

posted by Terry at 9:13:00 AM

Thursday, September 05, 2002

Hmm. It's getting on toward that time of day, and this being Thursday, it can mean only one thing. Soccer practice for Middle and Little Girls and for Boy.

It is horribly hot today, but thankfully sunset comes a bit quicker every day to cool things off. Of course, dusk also means giant clouds of West Nile virus-laden mosquitoes swarming all over the place looking for moist, tender, little children to infect. Good thing we have the flocks of rabies-ridden bats to eat the mosquitoes. Ah well, at least the concession stand is open now.

Practice has gone pretty well for Rebecca--the girls on her team are relatively well-behaved and there's a lot less ball-hoggery than there was back in the spring. She's been playing up front more this go-round, and managed to score ten (10) goals during Tuesday's scrimmage.

Catherine's team just started practicing last Thursday, and today is only her second practice, but she seems to enjoy it to no end, and her coach is a hoot. Any woman who describes herself over the phone to a man she's never met before as "just sorta short and dumpy" while simultaneously laughing is pretty much okay in my book!

Jonathan, poor little guy, has been stuck on a team of mixed 9- and 10-year olds. The mixed squad is what is left of the kids who weren't quite fast or coordinated enough to be on a single 9 year old team or 10 year old team. Nearly to a boy, they are disruptive, short-attention-spanned, inconsiderate, snot-nosed, goofball brats. No one pays any attention to the coach (whose own son is on the team, and is the basis for the above description) and none of them even tries to play position. Little Boy tries so hard to do the right thing and play where he's supposed to and pass the ball to the open guys and all that stuff, and nearly gets run over by his own Ritalin-addled teammates trying to steal the ball from him. It's so frustrating for him, and made all the worse by the aforementioned coach, who dotes on the "aggressive" kids (who will get red-carded if they pull all that punching and tripping and shoving crap in a game) and who is your stereotypical loud-mouthed, smart-alecky, jackass. I hesitate to use the Y-word, because I don't wish to tar all of my brothers and sisters above the Mason-Dixon line with an unfair characterization, but dadgummit, I sure would be a lot happier with one less Pennsylvanian around here. (Although I doubt Pennsylvania would let him back in)

And there's no Breck Girl Mom this season. The closest equivalent is a bottle-blonde with a manufactured tan who makes a point of prissing around with tight bicycle shorts down below and a sports bra hanging out of her armholes-cut-way-too-big-on-purpose tank top. I assume the look is meant to convey that she is coming from or going to the gym, but with nary a sweat stain, pristine white sneakers, every mussed hair mussed perfectly, evening-at-the-club makeup, and diamond artillery hanging on every finger, one sorta wonders. Tom Wolfe called the society women in Bonfire of the Vanites either "lemon tarts" or "social x-rays"--this lady's a bit of combination--maybe the equivalent of a "tanning bed tart." At least she's not a loudmouth.

posted by Terry at 5:00:00 PM

Changing a Theocracy, One Hack At a Time: Iran Gets First Female Taxi Service

By ALI AKBAR DAREINI, Associated Press Writer

QOM, Iran (AP) - Fixing her black head-to-toe cloak, Zahra Langroudi settles in behind the wheel and pulls away from the curb with her first passenger, officially becoming Iran's first female taxi driver.

Langroudi and nine other women represent the private Nesa Taxi Service, the first in Iran and in the unlikely location of the country's holy city of Qom, which is also known as Iran's "Vatican City."

Nayereh Aghaz, director of the Nesa Taxi Service, told The Associated Press on Thursday that she launched the company to promote women's rights and abilities in a society where men are dominant.

"I didn't launch the all-female taxi service to make history but to offer tension-free services to women and also to highlight their capabilities and promote the rights of women in Qom where women have little public life," Aghaz said.

Since starting the service Saturday, Aghaz says her office has been flooded with calls from female seminaries, hair salons, schools and wives of clerics.

"A female taxi service conforms with the cultural atmosphere in this religious city where women don't feel comfortable traveling with male drivers," she said.

But authorities imposed many restrictions before approving the service. Drivers must be married, at least 23 years old, offer services only to women and boys under 12 and wear the Islamic chador — the black head-to-toe flowing robe.

"The wife and children will take our taxi but the husband has to walk," Aghaz joked. [...]

The lives of Qom's women are vastly different from those in Tehran, Iran's capital, where many women appear heavily made up in public, their hair only partly covered with colorful loose headscarves and their dresses shorter and tighter.

In Qom, women wear no makeup and almost all are dressed in the loose-fitting chador. Authorities prevent women pilgrims without the chador from visiting the shrine of Masoumeh, a female Shiite Muslim saint.

But the birth of the Qom taxi service could be a spark for larger change that women have been craving, Langroudi said before taking her first fare.

"Driving a taxi is not a top job but an achievement by women. Now the men's monopoly has begun to end," Langroudi said. "Men in our religious city should see that women are not only housewives."

But what would Reverend Jim think?

posted by Terry at 3:52:00 PM

A great day for firearm-toting sports mascots everywhere! Mascot Can Carry, Fire Musket At Wisconsin Game UW Officials Change Their Minds

MADISON, Wis. -- There apparently will be a musket for the West Virginia mascot Saturday at Camp Randall.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison had earlier banned the antique musket from Saturday's matchup with West Virginia at Camp Randall Stadium because university policy prohibits weapons on campus.

But the school's athletic director asked the school administration to make an exception in this case -- which UW officials agreed to do.

The mascot has also been given permission to shoot the musket -- which fires powder like a starter pistol.

The mascot has been previously asked not to fire the gun inside basketball arenas, even once before at a football stadium, but has never been banned.

The Mountaineer mascot first appeared at athletic events in the 1936-1937 school year. It is selected each year by the Mountain, the university's senior honorary. The Mountaineer's costume is custom tailored to fit the winner.

Wisconsin and West Virginia meet Saturday at 11:10 a.m. at Camp Randall Stadium.

Well, whaddya know?

posted by Terry at 2:50:00 PM

JELL-O IS MURDER!

posted by Terry at 2:28:00 PM

Yet more from the irrepressibly self-absorbed Harrison Ford--

DEAUVILLE, France (Variety) - Harrison Ford believes his submarine saga "K-19: The Widowmaker" will find a warmer welcome in coming international berths than it did on home turf.

"This is a very unconventional film for American cinema," Ford said Wednesday at the American Film Festival here. "It's not a cowboys-and-Indians, good guys/bad guys movie. It doesn't depend on the usual devices of submarine movies.

"These are men fighting against an invisible and insidious enemy that is not represented by another nation. It's rather more complex and perhaps slightly more difficult for an audience. I think this film may find an easier reception in Europe and in other parts of the world than it did in the summer of 2002 in the United States."

"K19" director Kathryn Bigelow opined: "I think the film is extremely unique for an American audience. It celebrates Soviet courage, and I think that's an emotion and sentiment that may take some time to embrace." [...]

Yeah, we USAicans is am jus ril stewpid.

Of course, there are a few Europeans who might not appreciate the movie much either. Particularly the group of K-19 survivors who sent an open letter to the production company folks--

[...] In spite of the film producers' statements of intent to re-create a documentally correct story of the tragic events, which took place aboard our submarine in 1961, we have encountered a production, which recalls the worst examples of myths and feature characters of the "Cold War" epoque.

The whole screenplay's contents, the style of its composition, far-fetching and stupidity of many episodes and activities attributed to the crew; total obscenity and indecent expressions in characters' speech, low general culture and technical illiteracy of crewmembers, their lack of discipline and responsibility, total drunkeness, atmosphere of hostility among the crewmembers - all that instills us, the real participants of the mentioned events, with the feeling of deep outrage and protest against such a portrayal of the tragedy, which happened aboard our ship in 1961.

It is our point of view, that the whole spirit of the screenplay is focused on insulting not only the entire first crew of the K-19 submarine, but the whole Navy of the Soviet Union and Russian Federation. This is a desecration of the memory of the real defenders of our Homeland, fallen in that tragedy. [...]

Aw, come on guys! Embrace the emotion and sentiment of celebrating Russian courage! (It'll certainly make Harry-baby feel a whole lot better.)

posted by Terry at 11:51:00 AM

From the Tonya Harding Doin' Hard Time File: Son of Olympic gold-medal gymnast Korbut pleads guilty to counterfeiting

LAWRENCEVILLE, Ga. (AP) -- The son of former Olympic gold medalist Olga Korbut pleaded guilty to making $20,000 in counterfeit money.

Richard Bortkevich, 23, said in federal court Wednesday that he used a computer to make the money from November, 2001, to February.

A Gwinnett County sheriff's deputy found most of the fake $100 bills in an upstairs room of Korbut's former home in December. The deputy was attempting to serve eviction papers to Korbut's ex-husband, Leonid Bortkevich, who had already left for his home country of Belarus.

Richard Bortkevich moved to Florida after the discovery, but was arrested in July after returning to Gwinnett County to report to his probation officer. He had been serving a five-year probation sentence after pleading guilty to felony forgery and theft in 2000. [...]

Korbut, a Belarus native who won four Olympic gold medals for the Soviet Union in 1972, was not accused of being involved in the counterfeiting.

Korbut was arrested in Gwinnett County in January on unrelated shoplifting charges but avoided prosecution by agreeing to a pretrial diversion program that included attending a course on values and paying a $333 fine.

They lived in LAWRENCEVILLE, GEORGIA!?

posted by Terry at 10:20:00 AM

I think The Avalon Project at the Yale Law School is the finest source for online historical documents, from the Code of Hammurabi all the way up to documents from this year dealing with the September 11 attack.

The reason I bring this up is pretty selfish. I am just really tired of reading longwinded moronic twaddle from supposedly well-rounded, well-educated Blogospherians who have obviously never really read anything pertinent on what it means to be an American. Maybe I'm wrong, but I really think if you're going to discuss freedom and liberty and armed struggle and human rights and the role of government, it might be good to have read things such as the Federalist Papers, or browsed through the Papers of the Continental Congress, or taken a few days and absorbed The American Crisis by Thomas Paine.

posted by Terry at 9:56:00 AM

Proudly Sucking All Vestiges of Humor From Life: Sears Pulls T-Shirts After Mental Health Outcry

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Sears, Roebuck & Co., the fourth largest U.S. retailer, has stopped selling a line of T-shirts after an outcry from mental health advocates who said the slogans on them make fun of the mentally ill.

The National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) praised Sears for withdrawing the T-shirts that bore the inscription: "You should hear the NAMES the VOICES in my head are calling you."

The organization also called on Wal-Mart Stores, Kmart Inc., Kohl's Corp., and Target Corp. to stop selling the T-shirts and similar merchandise "mocking mental illness" or risk facing potential legal liability under federal or state anti-discrimination laws.

"The T-shirt perpetuates prejudice and discrimination against people with mental illnesses through the intimation of threats flowing from auditory hallucinations," said Ron Honberg, NAMI national legal director. "They reinforce an unfair perception of violence." [...]

In a related story, NAMI has decided to retroactively sue Gary Larson for the Far Side strip featuring two construction workers high atop a skyscraper frame. As they eat their lunch, one man says, "You ever get that urge, Frank? It begins with looking down from 50 stories up, thinking about the meaninglessness of life, listening to the dark voices deep inside you, and you think, 'Should I?...Should I?...Should I push someone off?'"

posted by Terry at 9:16:00 AM

From this morning's sobering edition of The Bleat: "And then she was fire and then she was ash." Not to mention that all the sophisticated Europeans think it was her fault. You know, for being so...so...American.

posted by Terry at 8:02:00 AM

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

YES!!!!!! Thank goodness I don't have to grow a 'fro!

posted by Terry at 9:01:00 PM

Of course, the biggest question no one has asked me yet--Kelly or Justin?

Oh please. Surely by now this would be easy for you to guess--let's see, fleshy young Texan with pipes like a theater organ versus a poof-headed Yankee twink with a voice thinner than tracing paper...golly, that one's sooooo difficult!

For the record, I along with all the rest of the Possumblog Television Critic's Society (a.k.a. My Family) think there is only one obvious choice, and she sure can fill out a dress in all the right places. The kids have berated poor Justin every week and can't wait for Kelly to come on. Life is, however, not always fair (witness Tamyra getting voted out--were she still in it it would be a toss up) so it's hard to discount the telephonic power of millions of slobbering teenaged girls who think Justin is the cutest thing this side of a Furby.

We'll see what happens, but if my pick doesn't win, I will grow a big fat Afro. (I'm not saying where, though.)

posted by Terry at 3:17:00 PM

From Yahoo! News "Notable Quotes":

"We have to be much more ambitious about peace in the world -- a world in which the United States should share more of their wealth and be more aware of our role as global citizens."

-- HARRISON FORD at the Venice Film Festival.

Possumblog Tip for the Day--Never take advice from someone who dumps his wife for Calista Flockhart.

But, I am heartened that Harry wishes to be so generous. I would like to see a world in which he shares more of his wealth with me. I have four growing children to feed, each of whom weighs more than Ms. Flockhart (not to mention they are smarter, and not nearly so annoying), so I would suggest that he begin his ambitious quest for peace in the world by sending me about a million dollars. It's the least he could do in his role as a global citizen.

posted by Terry at 2:56:00 PM

From the Mighty Andrea Harris of Spleenville, USA:

[...] Out of 280,000,000+/- people in America the majority are too busy trying to make a living to go beating up on minorities or burning down rain forests while eating meals that they stole from people at the local homeless shelter. (Sure, I can do that, I have plenty of time on my hands what with all the millions of dollars worth of gold bullion stolen from poor nations and stuffed into vaults in my Secret Lair of Evil, but that's just me, I'm atypical of most Americans.) But for an entire year almost I have read whine after whine about America the Awful, the country you wouldn't want your dog to die in. We're the most racist (never mind how other countries treat their minorities), the most sexist (just ignore that burqa-clad woman behind the door), the most warmongering (all those things involving guns and bombs in other countries are caused by the locals watching dubbed John Wayne movies and trying to imitate them), the most anything bad you can mention. [...]

posted by Terry at 2:10:00 PM

It's Wednesday, which can mean only one thing...it's the newest Newhouse from Lileks! Sustainable Development Summit Generates Its Own Share of Garbage

[...] Wise, rational stewardship of the Earth is the right thing to do, but its cause is not advanced by screechy remoras fastened on the hide of the industrialized world, insisting that the rich be poor so the poor can be happy.

The conference, like its predecessors, generated speeches and garbage in equal amounts. The quantities stagger the mind: 300 to 400 tons of trash produced (the very weight of which may cause the Earth to wobble in its orbit); 2.4 million gallons of water used (see "toilet, flush" above); 5 million sheets of paper consumed (enough for three Tom Clancy novels); 300,000 tons of extra CO2 released into the atmosphere from all the planes and traffic. All to persuade people to use less and save the Earth. [...]

posted by Terry at 1:43:00 PM

Blogger has been hammered today, which is only a partial explanation for the poor volume of possumy postings. The other part of the explanation has to do with the necessity of teaching people how to set up a laptop and projector to use the perky and colorful PowerPoint presentation I have been futzing with lo these many days. It is at times like these that I wish Lee Ermey would magically appear to take over the pedagogy chores.

Anyway, this comes to us from The Unintentionally Funny Headline File: Attorneys call on Ford to quickly install bladders in police cars ...Cops say they would rather install bladders in bums who pee in back seats.

posted by Terry at 1:27:00 PM

As many of you know, I occasionally am asked about matters of a spiritual nature. I'm not sure why, as I am a poor representative of the faith, yet when called upon I feel I must answer. So it is with this recent visitor who travelled the Google road and found himself knocking upon the door of Possumblog to ask this question: is it true that monk martin luther had flatulence

Much has been written about the Father of the Protestant Reformation and he stands as one of the powerhouses of Western Civilization, not only for his 95 Theses and Commentaries and translation of the New Testament, but also for the bloated volume Ex Phaseolus vulgaris. His brazen flatularity upset many at the Vatican, and in fact one of the charges of the Papal Bull of excommunication dated June 15, 1520 was his "constant mockery of decency, witnessed by the tiresome taunts of 'pull thou my finger'..." His response to the Bull was, of course, the famous December 10, 1520 burning of the Exurge Domine and other Church books and papers, but what is not known until recently is that the conflagration was begun by Luther "lighting bombers." Other than a singed woolen robe and a lingering odor of sulphur, Luther was unharmed.

His flatulent character was further enhanced in 1521 by the Imperial Diet of Worms.

Little is heard (or smelt) of Luther in the intervening years as he travelled to Wartburg and returned to Wittenberg where he spent his remaining days teaching at the University. His final lesson was punctuated by a thin, reedy backburp, after which he said "I am weak, I cannot go on."

Possumblog is happy to be able to shed light on all matters of history and faith.

posted by Terry at 8:40:00 AM

Culturin' Up

I was listening to the radio this morning on the way in to work, and who was in the Rick and Bubba studio but none other than the boys from Three on a String! They're a much loved local group and a real fun bunch. They were playing live on the air this morning to promote a fundraising event for Opera Birmingham. In honor of this occasion, the boys played a bluegrass version of "The Toreador Song" from Carmen with mandolin, guitar, and bass fiddle. Opera doesn't get much better than that!

(Unless it is "Come Into My Shop, Let Me Cut Your Mop" from The Rabbit of Seville)

posted by Terry at 8:26:00 AM

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

Aaargh! The Return of the PowerPoint Presentation That Would Not Die, Because Matter Cannot Be Destroyed, Only Transformed Into More Stinkin' Work For ME!

You may be asking yourselves, "Gee, I wonder why the Possumblogger guy has been so quiet today?"

It is because I have thrown myself under the wheels of yet another speeding car, driven by my boss and Bill Gates.

::sigh::

( ::and the horrible thudding sound of furry innerds being slung into the wheelwells::)

First, there is the faint praise, then there is the leaden "however," then there is the search for meaning in a string of words that have only a slight relationship to each other (mainly that they were all written by one bossly person), then there is the general art and science of Bossese augery, in which we are called upon to divine the thoughts of someone who does not really wish for his thoughts to be read, for if they were read and correctly interpreted would remove all fun from the intellectual torture such a person enjoys administering to his inferiors, then there is the jiggery and the pokery required to find pictures and words suitable for insertion into a presentation that needs no more of either. So, that's why I've been preoccupied.

And then yesterday, po' old Auburn lost to Southern Cal. At least it was a good match, though, with each side showing pretty solid levels of first game crappiness. I'd have to say the most poise was shown by the squabs, who through all sorts of head-banging, rough and tumble by the players were oblivious to the danger and happily bobbed around all through the game picking up bits of stuff off the field.

And at least there were cheerleaders.

The rest of Labor Day was spent as were the other two days of the weekend, picking up armloads of toys and laundry. We started bundling up some of the older things the kids no longer play with, which had to be done in semi-secrecy--"Hey, that's my Mr. Potato Head's right ear! I still play with that!" Black plastic garbage bags hide a multitude of sins.

All the cleaning also allowed us to discover we have been playing host to tiny little mouse visitors. I think mice are very nice, especially when drawn by Beatrix Potter. Otherwise, they give me the creepy shivers. We were unfortunate enough to get mice in our kitchen at our old house in Irondale, and spent weeks wiping them out. I wish I could find those traps again--they had a plastic cover on them that sort of 'contained' the effects of a heavy wire-sprung bar upon poor Mr. Mousey. I remember the first night, I had no more put a dollop of peanut butter inside and closed the cabinet doors when we started hearing the tell-tale SNAP! of the traps doing their work. Their efficacy became a great source of pre-blog office humor at my former place of work, as I regaled my co-workers with fascinating mouse's-eye-view stories of discovery and betrayal--"Mmmm...Peanut Butter!!! Squeak! SNAP!" Alas, I cannot find these traps anymore, although I'm sure they must still be made somewhere. I decided against the Old Faithful Tom and Jerry model--no use making my creepy shivers any worse with all that barely-attached mousiness to deal with, and the only other thing at the store were the equally gruesome, but quiet, sticky traps. I put them out this morning--there's a big pile of goo with a peel-off sheet that is near'bouts impossible to peel off, but when I did, it had the oddest sweet smell...Mmmm...Peanut Butter! I very nearly stuck myself to it.

Saturday morning was spent running around the yard with the lawnmower. The grass has given up, but the weeds and junk grass keep on coming up. The wisteria vine on our arbor has really taken off, as have the mentioned-in-Friday's-last-entry mimosa. I was unable to procure the necessary parts to begin construction of my Mimosa-Pulling Norah O'Donnell Robot (and just what parts those are I will leave to your imagination) so I was left to trying to destroy this stuff by other means. Of course, all other means are impossible.

Mimosa is the Friedrich Nietzsche of the plant world--unless it is rooted up, chopped into small bits, burned, salted, burned again, nuked, soaked in Agent Orange for a week, and burned, it comes back stronger and with a worse attitude. I've got so many little sprouts coming up (along with a couple of bigger toughs who hang out on the corner smoking dope) that pulling it up would be akin to digging the Panama Canal, so I decided to do the next best thing...annoy them with the WeedEater.

WeedEater operation involves a volatile mixture of gasoline, two-stroke oil, combustion, whirling blades of death (I have no truck for sissy string--I want something that requires a dangerous weapons permit), and rank stupidity. Some people make a big deal out of the CDC's accidental gun death statistics, especially when it comes to the South, where they are the highest. What few people realize, though, is that accidental deaths and injuries are greatest in the South for EVERYTHING--falls, swimming, car wrecks, lawn darts, bobcat wrestling, eye-gouging, in-laws spending the night--anything. And I'm sure that WeedEating is right in there at the top spot in gasoline-powered lawn and garden implements.

I will say this, however, and that is that WeedEaters do not only a fine job of whopping off poor defenseless mimosa shoots, but they are pretty darned good for cleaning off all the dead chrysanthemum blooms and trimming the top out of a gangly pile of wisteria vines up on top of an arbor. In case you ever see a warning sticker on your next lawn tool, it will probably have a big red slash across a little stick figure with a blade-mounted WeedEater high above its head.

Thankfully, nothing too bad happened to me (I mean, I got tired, and sweat got into my eyes once while she was a'going full speed), but in retrospect, it must have been the combined efforts of several guardian angels. I imagine they had some stories to tell when they got back to the office.

Ah, well, maybe tomorrow will be more conducive to Fun-With-Blog--I appreciate all of you who have stopped by today. If you were looking for anything other than stunningly boring stuff, I do offer my regrets, but I invite you to please come back anyway as I await delivery of all the good NorahBot stuff. That should be pretty interesting.

posted by Terry at 4:31:00 PM

Yes, it's 10 o'clock, and yes, I DID just get out of my meeting. Long meetings mean lots more steaming hunks to shovel, so today is going to be mercifully light for posting of steaming Possumblog hunks. But, there is some housekeeping to do before I waddle off and do something ostensibly productive.

First, many thanks to Steven den Beste for the kind link to the story a few days back about the WTC seminar I attended and commented on. Steven has some excellent comments of his own, and I urge you to take a look at them, ignoring that I am billed as a structural engineer. I sent Steven a note of thanks and a clarification that I am an architect. In school, we had to take more or less the same materials and forces classes that the engineers had to take, and I learned how to do all the sizing and connections for steel, timber, concrete, Play Doh, etc.--EXCEPT if I were asked to do it now, it would take me about three years to do a two-story building. In general, architectural training in the mechanics of building, such as structures, plumbing, heating and cooling, and electrical work is geared toward broad general knowledge. You learn about how big to make columns or how many #12 conductors will fit in a 1 inch diameter section of EMT, but the most important thing you learn after you get out of school is the telephone number of a good engineer who specializes in such stuff.

Second, FRED FIRST IS MOVING! No, not away from the bucolic environs of Floyd County, Virginia, but to a new URL and a spiffy new Moveable Type type blog. So, go visit him at http://fragments.blogon.com/fragments/ and see all his purty pitchers o' flaars 'n' bugs 'n' such like.

Now, I gotta get to work and do real impotent, I mean IMPORTANT stuff.

posted by Terry at 10:40:00 AM

Nothing is constant except death and taxes...and bureaucratic staff meetings. So, even though all four of you are just dieing to know how I am coping with Auburn's tragic loss or other bits of stupid stuff, I must now go and spend a many valuable minutes sitting at a table with my fellow persons who happen to share floor space with me and "review the agenda" and "check our calendars," which are in quote marks only because they have a certain self-gratifyingly double-entendre quality to them.

Be back after while with all sorts of searing insights, thought-provoking analysis, and a discussion of the merits of sticky mouse traps versus the old guillotine model.

posted by Terry at 8:28:00 AM

Friday, August 30, 2002

Golly, today was full of...posts. Nothing like stupid job stuff to cause a buildup of gassy humours and dispeptic thoughts, and nothing like having a Possumblog around in order to get them all down onto pixels. And even with all this stuff, and you still haven't heard all of the stories from the home front--Oldest Girl going to school all dressed up for her Social Studies project on ancient Egypt and being made fun of by the mean girls in her class; Middle Girl's graphic descriptions of puppy nativity while at her friend's house; Little Boy being forced to bare his boney little chest in a shirts-vs-skins game with a team of GIRLS; nor of Tiny Terror's debut on the soccer field.

Of all of them, the latter is probably the best story, not because she's so great on the field, but because she was so worn out from running around that the moment she hit the bed last night, she was out like she had been hit with a stick.

No multitude of getting back up to check on Stuffed Kitty, or Nother Stuffed Kitty, or Barbie Kitty, or Horsey, or Barbie, or Barbie with Brown Hairs, or to find out what tomorrow's name is, or to look at her mosquito bites in the bathroom mirror, or to get into Rebecca's bed and hide, or any number of other things she manages to invent to keep from going to sleep.

Last night, she was just a sack of wet sand.

Well, scratch that--she managed to also stay dry the entire night, for which I am now knocking on wood with crossed fingers. She's almost made the border of No More Accidents several times, but each time the guards find her and spray her down before she can reach the wire (or the pot).

She did do pretty good at soccer, though. Last night was a doozy--we had three of the four (gosh, they're turning into Borgs!) out at the park and they were on three different fields. I tried to keep an eye on everyone from one vantage point, but that was nearly useless other than to make sure if one got hurt I would at least know about it. Luckily, Reba was there to stay with Cat down on her field--she definitely requires watching (Catherine, that is, not Reba. Although...naw, better not say it...)

Stuff around the ol' Maison d'Possum has slowly been winding down to Early Fall Status, meaning there's nothing growing except mimosa, which has gotten a stranglehold on our little flower bed outside the kitchen. Overnight. If I were a good yeoman, I would put on some gloves and pull it all up. Instead, I have decided to spend my time idly musing about how great it would be to invent a robot mimosa puller that looked just like Norah O'Donnell. Now THAT would be cool! Certainly beats actually having to yank that mess up.

This being a long weekend means that there will be no Possumblog come Monday as I celebrate the contributions of the American worker by doing absolutely nothing productive (aside from watching Auburn-USC on the TV). I hope each of you are likewise lethargic and return refreshed and ready to go come Tuesday morning.

So now, let's draw a chalk outline around this week and throw a sheet over it and head for the house.

See you next week!

posted by Terry at 4:47:00 PM

The Possumblog Orthopedic Clinic Is Now Seeing Patients

Especially those searching for relief who suffer from corporal tunnel syndrome computer mouse.

We have built our large specialty practice by devoting it entirely to NCOs (Non-Commissioned Orifices).

Thank you for your business.

posted by Terry at 3:36:00 PM

Hey Cool! Andy's gonna be a daddy! Congratulations to him and to his wife, and best wishes for to the future WWRanter!

posted by Terry at 3:29:00 PM

Oh no, I’ve gone and done it now.

Fritz Schranck over at Sneaking Suspicions spotted my post about football below and sent me the following (which someone had sent to him, who got it from another guy, etc. By the way, be sure to e-mail Fritz and ask him about "Quaker vengeance"):

College Football - North vs. South
--------------------------------
Women's Accessories:

NORTH: Chap Stick in back pocket and a $20 bill in the front pocket.

SOUTH: Louis Vuitton duffel with two lipsticks, water proof mascara, and a fifth of bourbon. Money not necessary - that's what dates are for.
-----------------------------
Stadium Size:

NORTH: College football stadiums hold 20,000 people.

SOUTH: High school football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
-----------------------------
Fathers:

NORTH: Expect their daughters to understand Sylvia Plath.

SOUTH: Expect their daughters to understand pass interference.
-------------------------------------
Campus Decor:

NORTH: Statues of founding fathers.

SOUTH: Statues of Heisman trophy winners.
-------------------------------------
Homecoming Queen:

NORTH: Also a physics major.

SOUTH: Also Miss America.
-------------------------------------
Heroes:

NORTH: Rudy Guliani

SOUTH: Paul "Bear" Bryant
-------------------------------------
Getting Tickets:

NORTH: 5 days before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus and purchase tickets.

SOUTH: 5 months before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus and put name on waiting list for tickets.
-------------------------------------
Friday Classes After a Thursday Night Game:

NORTH: Students and teachers not sure they're going to the game, because they have classes on Friday.

SOUTH: Teachers cancel Friday classes because they don't want to see the few hungover students that might actually make it to class.
-------------------------------------
Parking:

NORTH: An hour before game time, the University opens the campus for game parking.

SOUTH: RVs sporting their school flags begin arriving on Wednesday for the weekend festivities. The really faithful arrive on Tuesday.
-------------------------------------
Game Day:

NORTH: A few students party in the dorm and watch ESPN on TV.

SOUTH: Every student wakes up, has a beer for breakfast, and rushes over to where ESPN is broadcasting "Game Day Live" to get on camera and wave to the idiots up north who wonder why "Game Day Live" is never broadcast from their campus.
-------------------------------------
Tailgating:

NORTH: Raw meat on a grill, beer with lime in it, listening to local radio station with truck tailgate down.

SOUTH: 30 foot custom pig shaped smoker fires up at dawn. Cooking accompanied by live performance by "Hootie and the Blowfish," who come over during breaks and ask for a hit off bottle of bourbon.
-------------------------------------
Getting to the Stadium:

NORTH: You ask "Where's the stadium?" When you find it, you walk right in.

SOUTH: When you're near it, you'll hear it. On game day it becomes the state's third largest city.
-------------------------------------
Concessions:

NORTH: Drinks served in a paper cup filled to the top with soda.

SOUTH: Drinks served in a plastic cup, with the home team's mascot on it, filled less than half way with soda, to ensure enough room for bourbon.
-------------------------------------
When National Anthem is Played:

NORTH: Stands are less than half full, and less than half of them stand up.

SOUTH: 100,000 fans, all standing, sing along in perfect four part harmony.
-------------------------------------
The Smell in the Air After the First Score:

NORTH: Nothing changes.

SOUTH: Fireworks, with a touch of bourbon.
-------------------------------------
Commentary (Male):

NORTH: "Nice play."

SOUTH: "Da#*it, you slow sum@&*! Tackle him and break his legs."
-------------------------------------
Commentary (Female):

NORTH: "My, this certainly is a violent sport."

SOUTH: "Da#*it, you slow sum@&*! Tackle him and break his legs."
-------------------------------------
Announcers:

NORTH: Neutral and paid.

SOUTH: Announcer harmonizes with the crowd in the fight song, with a tear in his eye because he is so proud of his team.
-------------------------------------
After the Game:

NORTH: The stadium is empty way before the game ends.

SOUTH: Another rack of ribs goes on the smoker. While somebody goes to the nearest package store for more bourbon, planning begins for next week's game.
-------------------------------------

AND THAT'S NOT ALL--Larry Anderson also got in the act, sending me this bit of intraconference trash talking from the SEC:

HOW MANY SEC STUDENTS DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE A LIGHT BULB…

At VANDERBILT: it takes two, one to change the bulb and one more to explain how they did it every bit as good as the bulbs changed at Harvard.

At GEORGIA: it takes two, one to change the bulb and one to phone an engineer at Georgia Tech for instructions.

At FLORIDA: it takes four, one to screw in the bulb and three to figure out how to get stoned off the old one.

At ALABAMA: it takes five, one to change it, three to reminisce about how The Bear would have done it, and one to throw the old bulb at an NCAA investigator.

At OLE MISS: it takes six, one to change it, two to mix the drinks and three to find the perfect J. Crew outfit to wear for the occasion.

At LSU: it takes seven, and each one gets credit for five semester hours.

At KENTUCKY: it takes eight, one to screw it in and seven to discuss how much brighter it seems to shine during basketball season.

At TENNESSEE: it takes ten, two to figure out how to screw it in, two to buy an orange lampshade, and six to phone a radio call-in show and talk about how much they hate Alabama.

At MISSISSIPPI STATE: it takes fifteen, one to screw in the bulb, two to buy the Skoal, and twelve to yell, "GO TO HELL, OLE MISS".

At AUBURN: it takes one hundred, one to change it, forty-nine to talk about how they did it better than Alabama, and fifty to get drunk and roll Toomer's Corner when finished.

At SOUTH CAROLINA: it takes 80,000, one to screw it in and 79,999 to discuss how this finally will be the year that they have a decent football team.

And finally, at ARKANSAS: None. There is no electricity in Arkansas.

Thank you everyone—we’ll be here all week. Drive safely on the way home.

posted by Terry at 2:53:00 PM

Larry Anderson is back home from his son's nuptialization, and offers his take on the benefits of clean water and electricity:

[...] One thing we do agree on is the idea that any twit who says that cultures need to be preserved even if it means people have to live in primitive conditions should be forced to live a few months in the conditions he praises as good for the world's poor. If the fool lived through the experience, maybe he would modify his views. If he didn't survive his adventure in living good, then the world would at least be a better place for the rest of us.

As far as cultural loss, we hillbillies have been able to maintain ours fairly well in the face of an all out assault by the broader American culture . Electricity and clean water turn out to actually help in our drunken Saturday night knife fights and wife beatings. You can see your objective clearer and the warm water works really well in the post fight cleanup.

posted by Terry at 2:19:00 PM

Well, in case you haven't noticed I have finished shoveling out all (well, most) of the manure from the stables and been able to get back to REALLY important stuff. And as we all know, this being the end of August, there is only ONE important thing.

Football.

Real football, too, not that silly hand-holding, Kumbayah-singing, Worldbeat-playing, diversity-promoting futbol that my kids have been Shanghaid into playing, but real AMERICAN football! And not just any good old real American football, but Southeastern Conference football! In particular the form played by the Pride of the Plains, Auburn University! Monday evening they will be making your Labor Day complete as they travel to Lalaland to take on the University of Southern California Brand Name Prophylactics.

Despite the fact that many seem to believe USC will win by at least a touchdown, I will go out on a limb here and say Auburn will win 143-13. I could be wrong, of course, "any given day" and all that, but I'm sure I will be in for a nice surprise. And even if the Tigers don't quite win, at least USC has good looking cheerleaders--pardon me, Song Leaders. This is NOT to imply that Auburn doesn't--they certainly do, (although I'm sort of partial to The Tiger Paws since there aren't any guys in there blocking the view.)

ANYway, as my final bit of Auburn related propagandizing, I thought I would leave you with the following wisdom known as The Auburn Creed:

I believe that this is a practical world and that I can count only on what I earn. Therefore, I believe in work, hard work.

I believe in education, which gives me the knowledge to work wisely and trains my mind and my hands to work skillfully.

I believe in honesty and truthfulness, without which I cannot win the respect and confidence of my fellow men.

I believe in a sound mind, in a sound body and a spirit that is not afraid, and in clean sports to develop these qualities.

I believe in obedience to law because it protects the rights of all.

I believe in the human touch, which cultivates sympathy with my fellow men and mutual helpfulness and brings happiness for all.

I believe in my Country, because it is a land of freedom and because it is my own home, and that I can best serve that country by "doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with my God."

And because Auburn men and women believe in these things, I believe in Auburn and love it.

--Dr. George Petrie, Class of 1887

posted by Terry at 1:44:00 PM

What Sue wants in a man...

[...] My litmus test now consists of, among other things, how nice the guy is to the waiter, and whether or not he genuinely gets along with his parents. Manners and a gentle nature matter a hell of a lot more to me than a hot car. [...]

posted by Terry at 12:00:00 PM

Study: No Link Between Cell Phones, Tumors in Mice

Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?

I think so, Brain, but it's a miracle this one grew back.

posted by Terry at 11:47:00 AM

She knows a sucker when she sees one...

The Sweetheart of Vidalia Janis Gore sends the following:

Dear Mr. Oglesby, hon:

Read my last post. Now, set your voluminous imagination to work thinking of a new title for the World Summit for Sustainable Development. I have Tim Blair working on it (it’s amazing what you can do with a monetary bribe). Clever boy that he is, he came up with Summit of the Vanities. I’m sure your readers would love to play.

Yes, money for Aussie Tim Cobber Mate, and cooing "hon" in my ear. You certainly know how to get me to do something. (Note to Self: Must try to figure out why everyone meows and makes a whip-cracking sound whenever I walk by)

IN ANY EVENT, having been tasked with this...task, I now put on my furry Jim Traficant-inspired Possumblog Thinking Cap™ and offer up the following bilgespew:

World Summit for Sustainable Development = World Summit of Drawing "Kick Me" Signs to Put On Back of U.S.'s Pants

World Summit for Sustainable Development = World Summit for Sustainable Whining About Hunger, As We Stuff Our Munchholes With Foie Gras and Lobster (Which Seemed Just a Bit Tough, Don't You Think? And the Champagne Tasted Like Mop Water)

World Summit for Sustainable Development = World Summit for Income Redistribution

World Summit for Sustainable Development = Johannesburg Shakedown!

World Summit for Sustainable Development = World Summit for Sustainable Bureacracy

World Summit for Sustainable Development = That episode of Andy Griffith when Aunt Bea makes a kitchen full of kerosene pickles

For the benefit of allowing the other side to speak, we read this Featured Story from the website:

Plenary Sessions on Action Areas Conclude With Forward-Looking Proposals

Johannesburg, 29 August— By conference standards, the plenary sessions on six areas where the World Summit on Sustainable Development is expected to make a difference, was extraordinary.

Well, I'm sure by "conference standards" anything is extraordinary. Except for the crappy champagne.

Instead of endless prepared statements, serious moderated discussions were held, that forced representatives of governments and major groups to think on their feet and consider various points of view.

Wow. Serious moderated discussions that forced representatives to think. ON THEIR FEET, no less! (Chairs must have been in short supply) AND consider various points of view. (The U.S.--Evil, or Stupid, or Both?) The sheer mental agony of such must have been horrific.

Plenary organizers knew it was uncharted territory for a Summit and were uncertain what to expect.

Lions? Tigers? The Spanish Inquisition?

But with South Africa's Foreign Minister Nkosazana Zuma chairing all but one of the sessions, and the UN Secretary-General's Special Envoy to the Summit moderating, the sessions turned out to be both stimulating and informative.

As I was toiling away the past few days on my stupid PowerPoint presentation, all I could think of is how I wished I could be stimulated by Nkosazana Zuma (soooo dreamy!), and informed by a Special Envoy. (You know, this world needs a Special Envoy Olympics.)

The special plenary sessions were intended to promote partnerships aimed at implementing projects in five action areas identified by United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan which include water and sanitation, energy, health, agricultural productivity, and biodiversity and ecosystem management. An additional session was held on finance and other cross-cutting issues.

Ministers of Serious Chatting for various countries were seen looking gravely at each other, whilst Plenipotenitaries of Harrumphing and Throat Clearing added a somber background accompaniment. By conference standards, it was extraordinary.

"The sessions went far beyond my expectations," according to Luis Gomez Echeverri of the UN Development Programme, adding that the moderating by Pronk and the willingness of Zuma to chair the meetings helped considerably.

Well, I tell you, you get Pronk and Zuma together in a backfield, and nine times outta ten you know their gonna try the play-action pass to the strong side. They both have good speed and quickness; and are tough, physical players one-on-one with the linebackers... Sorry. Must be serious. I really could use some of that great Pronk Moderating and Zuma Chairing to bring me back down to earth.

But the efforts to put the sessions together, including the preparation of comprehensive reports pointing out possible areas for action in the five action areas, he said, was one of the best examples of cooperation within the UN system and between the UN and the World Bank.

So the earlier joy about eliminating prepared statements only meant that they were handed in after the fact for the comprehensive report, rather than being part some guy's droning lecture. Fair enough. (Wonder how many trees were killed for all that paper. PAPER IS MURDER!)

"There were 250 people from every agency working on this," Echeverri said. "I've never seen a group like this work together like this, putting out five books in five weeks."

That's a hell of a lot of tree-murdering bureacrats you got there, Sparky. Could it be time to promote global sustainability by dusting off the Possumblog Corollary and tieing them all in sacks and dropping them off a cliff in Iran?

But there is still the question of what comes next.

That certainly has crossed my mind.

Pronk said the process must continue, with an even more intense level of debate, with governments participating more fully in the give-and-take discussions.

I am just SOOOOO surprised! When the world needs immediate action to forestall a terrifying global catastrophe, whatta we gonna do!? HAVE A PROCESS!

"We need this process and we should establish such a process for the five areas." Each area needs a different type of process, he added. "I hope there will be a decision at the Summit that the new approach will be embraced."

"Embrace A Process, Promote Sustainability"

Pronk said it was clear from the discussion on water that there was overwhelming sentiment that a goal for reducing the number of people who lack proper sanitation should be established, and in the energy sessions, there was substantial interest in renewable energies.

Plonk also said that clean air was good, the sun was hot, his name was Plonk, rocks are hard, and mean people suck.

Echeverri said that each of the sessions resulted in a number of proposals. "If that is not a mandate to proceed on a select number of issues, then I think we have wasted our time," he said.

Heaven forbid!

On water, which he said so many countries were willing to put a lot of money into, and on energy, processes and mechanisms should be established. "They can play a major role on influencing policies that could lead to more investment. If we do this jointly, and concentrate mobilizing political will, it can make a tremendous difference."

And if Grandma had wheels she'd be a rickshaw.

On the energy discussions, Pronk said there were concrete proposals to do away with subsidies, and to see the quick entry into force of the Kyoto Protocol, "if only to do away with the disastrous consequences of global warming."

The Road To Hell Paving Project continues apace.

posted by Terry at 11:04:00 AM

Japanese historian says submarine find proves US started war

TOKYO - A government historian said Thursday that the finding of a Japanese midget submarine sunk just before the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor was evidence that the United States, not Japan, started the war between the two nations.

"The finding provides evidence that it was the Americans who made the first shot, which means the war had already started even before Japan's air attack on Pearl Harbor," said Takehiko Shibata, a historian at the Defense Agency's research institute. "It's been our understanding of how World War II started. Now we have the proof." [...]

And it was just a damned lucky convenient thing the Imperial Navy had three waves of attack aircraft in the air headed toward Pearl Harbor timed just right to strike only an hour after the dirty Americans started shootin' up Hirohito-san's bathtub toys. Why, it's enough to make you want to go invade Manchuria and Korea and China and Burma and the Philipines and New Guinea, ain't it; or maybe behead a few hundred POWs for...for...well, for being POWs.

posted by Terry at 10:00:00 AM

Relief as the Cows Upstairs Move Out

ISTANBUL (Reuters) - A Turkish woman has begun selling the cows she kept in upstairs apartments in the city of Trabzon, to the relief of her neighbors.

Local alderman Osman Terzi said health and safety officials had ordered the cows to be cleared out of the first and third floors of the building in the Black Sea port city.

"I have learned that Fatma Kocaman has started selling her cows, which is a very pleasing development," the Anatolian news agency quoted him saying on Thursday. It said she had kept "a large number" of cows there.

"It's hard to believe someone would keep cows in an apartment. For years me and the locals have wondered what to do...The area has suffered a lot. Noise, smell and manure everywhere make a very ugly scene," Terzi said. [...]

Yep. Suppose so.

posted by Terry at 9:52:00 AM

Hey Cool! I'm the Number Seven result for russia slippers woman spanking. You know, sometimes I wonder why I keep slapping away at the old keyboard, and then something like this shows up and doggone it all, I know that I am doing some good in the world; that I'm making it a better place; that I'm confusing the heck out of just about everyone who stops by. But then, along comes something like this... where beef jerky comes from gary larson, or Paula Zahn Smokes Dope? and I know that I have exceeded all reasonable expectations I ever set for myself and have reached a pinnacle of writeritiousness reached by very few.

posted by Terry at 9:47:00 AM

Hmm. Another for the "whoda thunk it" file... Palestinian interior minister calls for end to suicide bombings

[...] Interviewed in the Yediot Ahronot daily, the Palestinian security chief, Interior Minister Abdel Razak Yehiyeh, said he told leaders of Palestinian groups, including Hamas and Islamic Jihad, to "stop the suicide bombings, stop the murders for no reason."

An aide to Yehiyeh confirmed that he had talked to the Israeli newspaper.

Yehiyeh, a retired general, was appointed interior minister in June in a Cabinet reshuffle, taking charge of Palestinian security forces. Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat had held the post until then.

In the interview, Yehiyeh said that "suicide attacks are contrary to the Palestinian tradition, against international law and harm the Palestinian people."

"Children were exploited for these attacks," Yehiyeh said. Several of the bombers were teenagers. [...]

posted by Terry at 9:16:00 AM

A day without lies...Candidates won't run campaign ads on Sept. 11

MONTGOMERY, Ala. (AP) -- Alabama residents watching television on Sept. 11, the anniversary of the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, won't see ads from candidates for governor.

Both U.S. Rep. Bob Riley, the Republican candidate for governor, and incumbent Democratic Gov. Don Siegelman said Thursday they won't run television commercials on Sept. 11. [...]

If only we could make it permanent.

posted by Terry at 9:12:00 AM

Wow. Whoda thunk it!? Village, Valley creeks polluted, Corps report says

Village and Valley creeks are polluted with fecal bacteria, pesticides and other contaminants, members of the Army Corps of Engineers said Thursday.

The report, made public Thursday, is a starting point as Corps and city officials develop proposals to restore the creeks and possibly create greenways or linear parks.

Beverley Hayes Stout, a Corps biologist, and Joseph W. Paine, a Corps civil engineer, outlined the results of a watershed study of the two creeks which cut across Jefferson County and flow west into the Black Warrior River watershed.

Birmingham lies in Jones Valley between Red Mountain to the south and a tail end of Sand Mountain called Possum Ridge (how apropos to this blog!) to the north, and these two creeks have born the brunt of the City's development since 1871, in past times being nothing more than open sewers. Today there is a bit more concern about them, but since they are in the lowest spot of the Valley, they still receive huge amounts of surface pollutants due to stormwater runoff.

The linear park idea has been partially implemented, but due to the high cost it has never been fully realized. Nor has the granddaddy of all of them even come close to being done, which was a far-sighted effort by City leaders around the turn of the 20th century to remediate what even then was recognized as a problem for the city. They hired famed landscape architect Fredrick Law Olmstead to develop a master plan for the entire length of the waterway, but as with a lot of grand plans around here, it remains a reminder of what could have been.

posted by Terry at 9:08:00 AM

Ex-Target cashier settles cross lawsuit

Way back yonder on March 12, I commented on this case, and at the time thought this might be an interesting one.

Pffft. Shows what I know--although the terms of the ~~shakedown~~ settlement are not disclosed, I'm sure it's enough to keep one former employee well stocked in wearable religious doodads for a while.

I remember not long after this story originally went to press that we had gone to Target for some stuff, and in the checkout I noticed the cashier had on a cross necklace (and NO, I wasn't just looking at her chest. Honest. Well, okay, I was, but that's not the point of this story. Nor is the point that she sure was cute in her little red scoop-necked tee and khakis. So just hush.) and I said, "Hey, that sure is a pretty cross necklace--I thought they were crackin' down on that around here!" She just rolled her eyes and said a few choice words about her former co-Target Team Member which, like the settlement, will remain undisclosed but gave me the distinct impression that someone was a few photos short of filling up an album.

Oh well.

posted by Terry at 8:36:00 AM

Thursday, August 29, 2002

And speaking of bagpipes...

posted by Terry at 12:50:00 PM

As I deduced...

...since I wrote something yesterday, my hit traffic crashed into a small pile. That'll teach me! But in any event, I am now through with the pre-boss's-editorial-hatchetry version of my wondrously colorful and animated PowerPoint presentation (90M for only 22 slides--you think I might need to compress some of those graphics? Naaaaah), although I still have a pile of typing of meeting notes left to accomplish today, so with your indulgence, I will devote my day to gainful employment and hopefully return tomorrow all dewy fresh for a final day of unfettered blogological prosiating.

BUT, before I repair to my paying job, I did want to mention a new link up topside there, William Hooker over at Trojan Horseshoes. Axis of Weevil member and Keeper of the Scourge of Truth Charles Austin noted that since Mr. Hooker's blog dealt with "thoughts on topics such as geek stuff, southern culture, life as a first-time parent and politics," he might be a possible new inductee into the Cotton State Blogging and Black Powder Society, LLC.

Alas, po' Bill (or, on occasion, Tony) has stated that although the Boll Weevil State has no small amount of charm, his loyalty and fidelity cannot be wrenched from his beloved North Carolina, his allegience to Andy Griffith Country being much too great (even with the oft-abused offer to invoke the Calvinball rules to insure his paperwork does not get lost in the broom closet!) In the stead of Axis membership, though, Trojan Horseshoes does get a link with all my other daily reads, virtually guaranteeing that Mr. Hooker will receive at least one hit a day!

So then, off to work, and as in the past four days, my e-mail coolie is running hither and yon with messages if you loyal Possumblog readers feel the need to correspond.

posted by Terry at 8:56:00 AM

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

The Secret to Increasing Possumblog Readership

...is apparently to write absolutely nothing! For some odd reason, yesterday saw traffic only 20 hits shy of the all-time record number of visits to Possumblog, all without benefit of any new posts. Why? Well, first thanks to Moira Breen at Inappropriate Response, Charles Austin at Sine Qua Non Pundit, and my new blog buddy Francesca Watson at Yorkie Blog for all linking to the post I did on the WTC lecture I went to last week. As for the other few hundred of you who dropped by looking for pictures of nekkid newswomen or possum skeletons or the best place to buy boots in Taiwan, my profound apologies. And no, it does not help to translate Possumblog into either German or Italian.

In order to maintain this high hit count, I will continue to work on my stupid work-related PowerPoint presentation. Actually, despite my protestations, PowerPoint is not really bad. Much like the bagpipes. But as they say about the bagpipes, than' Gawd there's nae smell. In addition, this being the second Wednesday of the month, there is our normally scheduled regulatory good-taste-burden to place upon the hard-working citizens of our city, with the resulting paperwork I must complete in typing up the minutes and swabbing the toilets.

SO, as in the past few days, I will be nonblogatory in extremis at least for today, and possibly tomorrow in order to get this mess wrapped up. As always, I will be checking e-mail, though, so if you have a comment, I'll try to answer.

Thanks for dropping by, and be sure to visit everyone else up there in the links as you wait for the next installment of hammered poo from Possumblog.

posted by Terry at 7:19:00 AM

Monday, August 26, 2002

Undone by ol' Charlie Foxtrot

Whew. Aside from Friday, the weekend was blessedly free of much of anything. No road trips, no shopping excursions, just laundry and laying about watching videos. Made up for the horror of Friday. Almost.

As you will recall (if you read down below to the last post) we were in the process of attempting to prove the theory that an object can exist simultaneously in multiple locations. I think we have managed to pretty well do away with all that nonsense. Just cain't happen.

And the worst part is that I dare not do a detailed analysis of the strategic and tactical errors that contributed to an extra 50 mile round trip to Branchville, a one and a half hour soccer clinic that only lasted about 45 minutes for one little fellow, a skating party/sleepover that exploded due to finding that 12 year olds have a terrible time choosing "friends" (and just what in the [insert long string of foul Anglo-Saxon curses here] sort of parents just drop their feral brats at a skating rink and tell them they might be back at ELEVEN! Oldest was then shunned by her "friends" for bringing her mom along. The only good thing was the little epiphany of "You know what, Mom? I need to to a better job of picking my friends." Halleluiah.) No I dare not, for the same reason that I have learned not to answer the question "Does this make me look fat?" I haven't had 11 good, happy married-man years by being an idiot.

Nope, sometimes there are things which are best left alone; little unspoken reminders of the results of trying to put 10 pounds of mud in a 5 pound sack.

And there is also the issue of doing something productive this week. It appears I am going to have to take a busman's blogging holiday (blogman's? blogiday?) in order to complete the craptacular mess that now sits before me. One word--PowerPoint. As the only person on the floor who can plumb the mysteries of the greatest tool ever devised to senselessly torture meeting attendees, I have been charged with giving that Barton Fink feeling to some danged-fool mess for one of my legion of bureaucrabosses. I'm sure it will have the wonderful cutting-edge feel of the mid-1990s. Whee.

So, my apologies for the remainder of the week in which my stunningly mundane writing skills will be poured into a multimedia dreckfest of unimaginable horror, leaving no time to display them herein for your pleasure. I should be back in form next week; so in the mean time, be sure to read all of the wonderful folks up top in my list of links. I will be able to answer e-mail should it come my way, but no blogging.

posted by Terry at 8:29:00 AM

Friday, August 23, 2002

Tonight--one daughter farmed out to spend the night with friends in St. Clair County, one son to be taken to soccer clinic, one daughter to be taken to skating rink, then to spend the night across town, one daughter to run screaming to and fro with an evil grin and wet pants--ALL AT THE SAME TIME! How we're gonna do this is a mystery.

Reba was supposed to get off work about an hour ago so she could pick them all up from school and start the payload delivery process. She is still at work. She has no money on her, and the bank branch around the block is closed. It is now 4:30. She is supposed to be in St. Clair County by 5 (it takes thirty minutes to get from downtown to school and get everyone, then another thirty to get where she needs to be), back to the soccer field in Trussville at 5:30, where I am supposed to meet her and grab Little Boy and Baby Girl, and then take Oldest to the skating rink by 6.

Tomorrow--hey, that's tomorrow.

posted by Terry at 4:31:00 PM

Now then, I have downed a bag of chips and a Coke and managed to get to the bank and back here in one piece.

Part Two of my continuing ed coursework for yesterday took me to the other side of town to the Richard M. Scrushy Center for the Study of Richard M. Scrushy at HealthSouth headquarters. The presentation was sponsored by the Structural Engineers Society of Alabama, and included not only the lecture by Dr. Corley but a video presentation by Mr. Leslie Robertson who was the principle engineer on the World Trade Center.

There was an article about this conference in The Birmingham News this morning, but I refuse to link to it simply because the reporter must have listened to a different presentation than I did, or simply did not understand what he was writing about. As with most news stories I have read about this subject, there was little attempt to educate but much on trying to see if someone can be blamed. In fact, the writer of the article himself points to this in the very last sentence in the article (this’ll be the only part I quote)

[…] Corley said his team's report has been criticized by some because they did not point fingers and place blame for the collapse. He said that wasn't his team's mission.
"Frankly, we don't think there is any fault," Corley said. "The hijackers are the ones at fault. They get all of our blame."

Amen.

And in spite of how horrendously terrible this attack was, it could have been far worse had it not been for one man’s acrophobia. More on that later. So, now, on to my small part of trying to make some sense of this.

As I mentioned, the first part of the presentation was a videotape of a talk given by Mr. Robertson (Click on his name to go to his firm’s message about the attack). I am not sure when the video was made, but it was billed as his first address to an audience since the attacks. I wish it had been done with a bit more forethought—it had the look and sound quality of a bootleg grade school recital tape; lots of out of focus shots, wandering framing, him having a coughing attack and gulping water right into the lavalier microphone he was wearing, folks walking in front of the camera.

He gave a good overview of the construction concept and methods, and spoke about the work his firm did on the building after the first attack back in 1993—he was referencing a slide show which most of the time was out of frame, except for when the camera would whip around to the screen. When it came time for the part about the collapse, the entire chunk of his talk and the slide show had been edited out due to some not-quite-well-explained reasons dealing with the slide images not being able to be released to the general public. It just went straight to his question and answer session at the end, which had a few technical questions, and then one more:

[Off camera-almost inaudible] ‘Is there anything you wish you had been able to do differently?’

He paused.

“I wish,” he paused again.

Choking on his words, he slowly and quietly said, “I wish…I could have…made it stand up.”

The audience in the video was silent, as were those watching the video in our meeting room.

It made my eyes burn, and my throat ache when he said that, and it does so now when I sit and type this.

I know from the muffled sniffs from the men further back in the room that I was not the only one who felt that terrible pang.

This is the side one normally doesn’t see within the staid world of welds and bolts and mass and force, but there are few people who are so acutely aware of the consequences of a potential failure in their work. If a doctor fails, a patient can die. If we fail, thousands can die. Engineers and architects do our best to anticipate the unexpected, to ask questions from different angles, to be thorough in our preparations, and above all protect the health, safety, and welfare of the people who will use our buildings.

All of the blamemongering in the world, all the heated editorials, all the jackassed stupidity of the Usenet, will never change that. You can’t make the designers and builders feel any worse, nor will you be able to magically eliminate future attacks or revoke the laws of nature.

The second portion of the presentation was Dr. Corley’s review of his assessment team’s report to FEMA. This report is available online at the FEMA website, but at the moment is appears they are having some technical difficulties (or my computer is screwed up). Luckily, it is also available over on the House Committee on Science website, which can be accessed here. It is a BIG book, close to 300 pages divided into eight chapters, and each chapter averages over a MB, although some of the more photograph intensive ones are closer to three MB.

Before you read anything else on the World Trade Center (including my own stuff), before you go popping off on MeFi about who should have known what about what, if you really want to learn something, go read the report first. It is very well-written with a good mix of understandable general language, technical data and photographs. It has background information on the project, design criteria, general information about construction and building codes, and a detailed chronology. Not only are the Twin Towers analyzed, but all of the buildings of the complex and those adjacent that were damaged.

It is far better to read that than any bit of commentary I might write in this silly blog. And just like Dr. Corley was quoted as saying, this report is an examination of the performance of the buildings under extraordinary circumstances. If you’re looking for fodder for your favorite conspiracy theories, you would do much better just to go ahead and make stuff up. You won’t find any help in it.

Have you read it? Don’t go any further! Go read it now. Okay, finished? Good.

Now, a few of my thoughts—

First, the thing I keep seeing discussed ad nauseum is ‘if it was designed to get hit by a plane, why did it fall?’

A lot of the misunderstanding seems to revolve around whether things should be designed for all possibilities, or for the most probable circumstances. Folks, the only way to design for all possible attacks would mean that each one of use would have to live in a nuclear-biological-chemical resistant structure, and that every person would have to be widely dispersed to minimize possible deaths. This is a fine and dandy approach if you live in some alternate universe, but here, the most sensible thing is to work from the most likely occurrences.

In the end, the most prudent course of action was to design for something within the most probable realm, and in this case the only similar incident occurred during World War II when an off-course B-25 struck the Empire State Building. The WTC designers concluded that the most likely way in which an aircraft would hit the towers would be if it were lost in heavy fog and low on fuel and flying at landing speed. The aircraft chosen was the most common type then flying in the area, the Boeing 707, which had a gross weight of 263,000 and a landing speed of 180 miles per hour. In the case of what actually happened, 767-200ER aircraft, each weighing 274,000 pounds, struck the towers at speeds of 470 and 590 (!) miles per hour. Given that force rises exponentially with velocity, it is a testimony to the robustness of the structural system of the buildings that they were not immediately destroyed by the impact. The study points out that on the impact faces of the building, more than 2/3 of the supporting exterior columns were destroyed, yet the load on the remaining columns only rose to their theoretical capacity.

Had there been no fire, the buildings would have remained standing.

As I mentioned at the first, this incredible structural performance had much to do with the way in which the floors were interlocked and tied to the exterior structural skin, which was made up of built-up segments of steel plate arranged as an array of continuous square tubes. Each column was only 3 feet, 4 inches apart from its neighboring column, one reason for which was that the lead architect on the project, Minoru Yamasaki, had a fear of heights. Mr. Yamasaki wanted to have window framing no further apart than he could comfortable grasp with two hands. The solution chosen was essentially to make the window framing part of the structure itself. (Dr. Corley said he had heard this story several times, but finally was able to confirm it in conversations with members of the Yamasaki firm.)

The redundancy of these structural members and the way in which they tied back into the central core contributed to the tremendous strength of the towers. In spite of the high loss of life, it could have been far worse—at the time of the impact the Port Authority estimated the population of the complex at 58,000. The strength of the building allowed enough time for able-bodied persons below the crash levels to evacuate before the buildings fell.

It was the fire though, and the inability to fight it, that set up the circumstances of the collapse. Surprisingly, the fuel on the airplanes was not a significant source of fuel except for the first 3 to 9 minutes. At least a third of the fuel burned up in the atmosphere in the form of the huge fireballs which shot out of the sides of the buildings. After about 9 minutes, the fuel had been totally consumed. However, before it was gone, it set fire to everything else within the crash area, and it was this fuel load of paper and furniture and equipment that produced the fire which finally weakened the structure enough to cause collapse. The energy of this fire was estimated in the report to be equal to the power generated “by a large commercial power generating station.”

Due to the impact of the planes cutting off main supply lines of water, none of the sprinkler systems could operate, and the impact dislodged fireproofing sprayed on the structural steel in critical points, exposing the steel to continuous heat far above design temperatures, for a far longer time. Just as the impact alone did not destroy the towers, it is conceivable that a large fire on multiple floors might not have destroyed the building had the main water supply not been cut and had the integrity of the fireproofing not been compromised.

The combination of the multitude of events and circumstances, however, was too great to prevent failure.

So what does this say about the way in which the buildings were designed, and how such buildings should be designed in the future? From the report (Chapter Eight)

Buildings are designed to withstand loading events that are deemed credible hazards and to protect the public safety in the event such credible hazards are experienced. Buildings are not designed to withstand any event that could ever conceivably occur, and any building can collapse if subjected to a sufficiently extreme loading event. Communities adopt building codes to help building designers and regulators determine those loading events that should be considered as credible hazards in the design process. These building codes are developed by the design and regulatory communities themselves, through a voluntary committee consensus process. Prior to September 11, 2001, it was the consensus of these communities that aircraft impact was not a sufficiently credible hazard to warrant routine consideration in the design of buildings and, therefore, the building codes did not require that such events be considered in building design. […]

During the course of this study, the question of whether building codes should be changed in some way to make future buildings more resistant to such attacks was frequently explored.

Depending on the size of the aircraft, it may not be technically feasible to develop design provisions that would enable all structures to be designed and constructed to resist the effects of impacts by rapidly moving aircraft, and the ensuing fires, without collapse. In addition, the cost of constructing such structures might be so large as to make this type of design intent practically infeasible.

Although the attacks on the World Trade Center are a reason to question design philosophies, the BPS Team believes there are insufficient data to determine whether there is a reasonable threat of attacks on specific buildings to recommend inclusion of such requirements in building codes. Some believe the likelihood of such attacks on any specific building is deemed sufficiently low to not be considered at all. However, individual building developers may wish to consider design provisions for improving redundancy and robustness for such unforeseen events, particularly for structures that, by nature of their design or occupancy, may be especially susceptible to such incidents. Although some conceptual changes to the building codes that could make buildings more resistant to fire or impact damage or more conducive to occupant egress were identified in the course of this study, the BPS Team felt that extensive technical, policy, and economic study of these concepts should be performed before any specific code change recommendations are developed. […]

In short, the WTC was properly designed given the state of knowledge in 1966, when the design process was first begun. Could things have been done differently? Yes, although it’s not clear if the outcome would have been any different. Should things be done differently now? Yes, and they already are, due to the constantly changing nature of the building code writing process. Should we still build skyscrapers? The United States is full of tall buildings. To build no more would be short-sighted if the economic conditions which drive the construction of tall buildings remain functioning. The alternative to building up is building out, and I suppose that were the disincentives great enough, out would be where we would go. The economics of this should reflect the fact that a repeat occurrence of this sort would be highly unlikely since we have now decided that swarthy sorts who only want to learn to fly and not land a jumbo jet and who pay in cash are probably not a very good security risk. (But we dare not say that for fear of hurting the feelings of someone.)

A better question is whether we will concede that anything over one story tall is just automatically going to be fodder for infantile-minded murderers who want to knock our blocks down like petulant bullies, or whether we will hold them accountable for their actions and make their cost of doing business too high. I sincerely hope that we decide that we make it expensive for others to attack us, rather than burdening ourselves with the cost of defending ourselves from being attacked. Do we really want the equivalent of herding ourselves through metal detectors, raised to an enormous scale, just to buy a little perceived security?

Seems like the money would be better spent eliminating the threat rather than hardening the target.

Just my two cents worth.

posted by Terry at 4:09:00 PM

Well, now—I have now managed to catch up a bit on the stuff I was supposed to be doing yesterday instead of gadding about and associating with the brainiac crowd, so now you must endure a long-winded recap of stuff. Lucky you, eh?

Anyway, as mentioned several times, I had a professional liability seminar yesterday morning over at the conference room of the SEC Headquarters, (which, if you live around here, you know has nothing to do with the Securities and Exchange Commission and EVERYTHING to do with the real important thing—football). This is done to help fulfill my continuing education requirements for my architecture registration here in Alabama—in 1993, we were the second in the nation to require continuing ed (Iowa was first in 1979), and are required to do 12 hours a year. This was not popular when it began; architectural firms usually work on a pretty slim margin, especially those who work in a small practice or are sole proprietors, and so any time spent not being billed cuts deep. Most have come around now, though, and most find it valuable. I know I do, given that what I do now is pretty far afield from what’s normal in the profession.

Believe it or not, the professional liability talks are pretty interesting, if for no other reason than it makes everyone feel so much smarter. In a way, it’s sort of like reading about Darwin Award nominees—it’s amazing how many people, regardless of their profession, don’t seem to ever consider the thought that they could get sued for something, especially since court proceedings are now America’s number one spectator sport. It’s hard to figure out how some people manage to get any sort of work. Of course, the stupid ones don’t last long, but it’s darned difficult for even the smart ones to stay out of the line of fire.

Some people might say that it’s all the lawyers’ fault, but despite calls to take Shakespeare up on his suggestion, a better solution is to find yourself a good one. Also when it comes down to it, common sense should tell anyone a few things—do your homework about the task and the client, be clear ahead of time what you’re supposed to do and how to do it, document everything, keep good records, respond quickly to problems, communicate consistently and in a timely manner, observe mutual respect for everyone involved in the process—more or less the sorts of things you should do, no matter what.

The insurance guy who handled the lecture was good—you could tell he had seen a lot, and his biggest problem was architects who would ask him to review a contract. He would suggest wording changes or even recommend not signing the contract, then he would be informed that the work was already underway or even complete. Poor guy, each story would be punctuated by a heavy sigh. But he kept it entertaining and informative, although he needed some help with metaphors. A couple of them actually made me take notes, one being that insurers didn’t like to take all of the risk on a large project or “put all their marbles in one basket.” Yeah, I hate it when that happens. Before the World Trade Center attack, he said that a lot of insurers figured they had done a pretty good job of insulating themselves from loss and were “sitting there fat and happy in glass houses.” I just hope they had the curtain drawn. Another good one was that due to premium increases, some firms where trying to economize by “cutting some edges” to save money in other parts of the practice. Golly, I hope they don’t make it all the way to the corners!

Well, I’ve got to go to lunch, so later this afternoon you will get to read my take on the Gene Corley World Trade Center discussion. Great lecture, and despite what you may think, the WTC buildings performed exceedingly well given the catastrophic nature of what happened.

posted by Terry at 11:13:00 AM

Thursday, August 22, 2002

Well, I am breathlessly betwixt seminars at the moment--I had to walk near the library downtown to get to my car, so I thought I would sneak in here and check e-mail, and found Possumblog has spawned yet another blogchild! Yes, my partner in the Jessica Rabbit Petition boondoggle, Francesca Watson, finally succumbed to my persuasive power and started Yorkie Blog. Hooray for her! (and for you.)

Now, I have to get across town, so it's to the Possummobile!

posted by Terry at 12:12:00 PM

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

The free ice cream cones will be 100% smaller tomorrow.

In case you've been wondering why so much tasty possum has been thrown your way today, I will be out doing continuing education alllll day tomorrow (yippee--jeans!), so there will be nothing new. (Not that there ever is anything new, but there will be less of it tomorrow.) Seminar One will be "Limiting Liability Issues," which is always fun and it's good for 4 whole hours of continuing ed credit, and Seminar Two will be the WTC lecture I mentioned yesterday.

See you Friday!

posted by Terry at 2:16:00 PM

Well, now I've gone and done it...

I mentioned yesterday that one of Possumblog's fans, Francesca Watson, needed to start her own blog. My own motivation in this suggestion was to allow us to join forces to push for meaningful change--namely in the form of promoting the production of a new Jessica Rabbit movie with Mrs. Rabbit, and her alone, as the star.

Apparently seizing upon the well-known power of online petitions, (such as in this case), Francesca has taken it upon herself to launch her own signature drive on behalf of the oh-so-squishy Jessica in order to insure that she gets her due as the fine actress we all know her to be. I figure with the one or two signatures we are able to gather, we will strike fear into the hearts of Hollywood for having so basely ignored one of the greatest talents in moviedom.

SO THEN, go forth and signify!

posted by Terry at 2:01:00 PM

A nice story about a what sounds like a very nice lady--Teaching the art of gracious living: Louisiana school stresses poise, grace, manners

[...] The success of Smoky Creek Summer School for Girls, whose graduates number more than 300, underscores a reality of the times, says [Dixie] Gallaspy, who grew up in rural Washington Parish, La., and attended Texas Woman's University.

"The basic thing is this: Both parents are working, they're sending their kids to the best schools they can afford, but they just don't have any time left over," she says. "A lot of these little girls are growing up without any kind of domestic understanding. I'm trying to recapture those skills." [...]

At Smoky Creek, Gallaspy limits her classes to about 25 girls and charges only $50 for the week. Most of her students are 11-year-olds, and most of the out-of-towners stay with grandparents or other relatives who live in the area.

Community volunteers are a primary reason she's able to charge only $50 for the week. One doctor speaks to the girls about clean living, and a high school teacher helps with music.

"This is a wonderful age because they're still listening," Gallaspy says. [...]

As might be expected, change doesn't occur haphazardly in this part of the world. But even the guide to becoming a Southern belle needs a tweak every now and then.

Blended in with traditional lessons such as using the proper fork and penning that perfect note are topics that might make Scarlett O'Hara blush -- body piercing and tattooing.

Of course, the message is: A true Southern lady would never do anything to permanently alter her body.

"What we tell them is there's a reason God made it hurt," says Annie Hughes, Ellie's [a student] mom and one of the school's coordinators. "We tell them, 'You can do fads. Fads aren't bad. But don't do anything that's permanent."' [...]

As the father of a twelve-, an almost-ten-, and a five year old girl, this sounds like good advice. (Which means it will be studiously ignored and cause the veins to pop out on the side of my forehead.)

posted by Terry at 1:32:00 PM

It's Wednesday, which means it's time for the newest Lileks from Newhouse! Concocting New Horrors in the Animal Kingdom

Was there ever an organization so devoted to the destruction of its own cause as People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals?

Its members have in their smooth human hands one of the most ethically pure causes of our age -- treating animals well -- and they've managed to equate it with utter crackpottery. One suspects that PETA members were horrified by the collapse of the twin towers because of the hundreds of thousands of rats that perished in the rubble.

Unfair? Consider this: In a world of suicide bombing, nuclear threats and germ-warfare fears, PETA has found a new horror on which to lavish its time and dilute its cause:

Fishing.

PETA has filed suit in the states that ban hunting in state parks, demanding that fishing be prohibited as well. It's cruel. It's mean. It causes pain. Fishing is terrorism. Every day on every lake, it's 9/11, with boats instead of planes, hooks instead of box cutters.

Fish are just like you and me, in other words -- they have central nervous systems and can feel pain, and thereby deserve every ethical consideration one would extend to the pope, Nelson Mandela, Bob down the street, or the large bear that is charging toward you. A school of fish equals a day care center. As Ingrid Newkirk, PETA's co-founder, famously phrased the ethical equation: "A rat is a pig is a dog is a boy." [...]

But at the risk of sounding like a chauvinist to my species, the similarity stops there. Babies grow up to be doctors who find cures for cancer, and this might mean using rats in labs.

This troubles some people. Better that people should die of cancer than rats die in lab trials of cancer drugs. A rat is a pig is a dog is a little bald boy in a room full of beeping machinery, hugging his teddy. He has no better claim on tomorrow than a rat, or a minnow.

By making the child and the rat equal, you do not bring the rat up to the child's level. You push the child down to the level of the rat. [...]

posted by Terry at 12:09:00 PM

Many Saudis Feel Betrayed By U.S.

Gosh golly, I know I have a box of Kleenex around here somewhere...

posted by Terry at 11:59:00 AM

Awww.

Last night I was supposed to take Middle Girl to a soccer clinic (coached by yet another expat Brit--where they keep getting these guys, I'll never know) but due to God's artillery drills going on, the clinic was cancelled and we headed back to the house. I had decided to take Franklin (the Ford F-100 spoken lovingly of in past posts) but he was nearly out of gas (unlike his owner) so I pulled into the Exxon there on Main Street.

A few moments later, a dung-colored four door Chevette blatted in behind me carrying a full load of two very large persons of the sort who might think driving an ancient Chevette was fun. The man got out to fill up the tank (producing a sizable shift in the center of gravity and a loud squeak from the suspension) when all of a sudden, in clatters a dark blue four door Chevette and hesitates briefly beside the first fellow. The driver's window is vigorously, yet slowly, rolled down and out pops a blue ball cap on top of a grizzled head--"Zthata sevndy-seven?" "Naw, it's a sevndy-ate!" Ball Cap looks it over carefully, admiring its velvety-textured paint and charming "brite" wheel trim. "Yep, these is really good cars--they gettin' to be collector's items." "Yeah, I know!"

AND THUS WAS BORN THE TRUSSVILLE CHAPTER OF THE CHEVETTE OWNER'S CLUB.

posted by Terry at 11:48:00 AM

Via Andrea Harris(nice new look to the blog, by the way), this bit of put-uponedness:

Sure, there is a sizable percentage of Americans who are filled with do-gooder "change the world" intentions. That's why we invented things like the Peace Corps, so we could get these pests out of our hair. The ones for whom this was only a youthful phase were supposed to come home sadder and wiser (and much thinner from weeks of dysentery or malaria), and settle down and get productive jobs. The ones that were hopeless (ie, too egotistical to admit their ideals were about as substantial as cotton candy) were supposed to stay in foreign places like Gambia or the UN building and thus out of our hair. Unfortunately, things went a little wrong. But there's always the possibility of other solar systems to figure out how to ~~escape to~~ explore, and it will probably be Americans who figure out how to do it, too. If we left one neighborhood gone bad, we can leave another.

posted by Terry at 11:15:00 AM

Wow. From Gilbert Nicholson of The Birmingham Business Journal, just what everyone in D.C. and Birmingham have been clamoring for:Birmingham-D.C. high-speed rail summit held in Atlanta Wednesday

[...] The "Southeast High-Speed Rail Summit" will be held 1-2:30 p.m. at the Ritz Carlton hotel in downtown Atlanta.

Hosted by the Southeast Economic Alliance – an organization of 14 chambers of commerce in six Southern states – panelists will discuss the benefits of the 800-mile route proposed as a high-speed demonstration project. Trains would run more than 90 mph, according to an Alliance news release.

The first phase of the system would link nine cities, including Birmingham and Atlanta, a route deemed unprofitable by a 1994 Alabama Department of Transportation study.

The study found 196 curves would limit speeds to less than 80 mph on the current Norfolk Southern line used by Amtrak's Crescent passenger train. More than 80 curves between Irondale and Atlanta won't allow speeds more than 50 mph.

Two other alternatives were considered: an abandoned CSX line and a new high-speed rail system to run in the middle or to the side of Interstate 20. Each of the three options cost more than $1 billion in 1994 dollars.

The study's conclusion: "Even with four trains a day at 80 mph, the projected ridership of approximately 455 people per day for high-speed service does not appear to warrant the anticipated construction costs."

Well, gee whiz, with all of the stunning success of Amtrak's Acela line, who on earth could want such a wonderfully useless thing as a high speed train that can go no faster than any other train, all while costing at least a billion big'uns?

Alabama Power Co. president and CEO Charles McCrary and outgoing U.S. Rep. Earl Hilliard, D-Birmingham, are among six panelists who will discuss a proposed high-speed rail route from Birmingham to Washington, D.C. [...]

Ahhh, I see. I believe APCo. wants to sell 'em some juice (and cut their main competitor TVA out of the picture), and ol' Brer Earl is looking to get his family on with the railroad.

Good gig if you can get it, I suppose.

posted by Terry at 10:59:00 AM

Saudis Plan to Sue U.S. over Sept. 11

Ghaida Ghantous
DUBAI (Reuters) - A group of Saudis plan to sue the U.S. government and media organizations for the alleged psychological and financial damage they suffered in the aftermath of September 11, their lawyer said on Wednesday.

"Tens of Saudi nationals seriously plan to file lawsuits against U.S. government, civil and media entities, the majority of whom are students who had been attending American universities and were forced to leave," Saudi lawyer Katib al-Shamri said. [...]

And who said that irony was dead after September 11!?

posted by Terry at 10:23:00 AM

School Days, Golden Rule Days--Teen arrested after allegedly cutting three classmates

MOBILE, Ala. (AP) -- A 15-year-old female student was arrested for allegedly cutting three other students with a butcher knife at Williamson High School, police said.

The attack about 1 p.m. Tuesday was the result of an ongoing dispute, according to Mobile police Cpl. Pat Mitchell.

The names of the students' were not released because they are juveniles.

One victim was cut on the index finger, another on the arm and the third on the face, but none had to be taken to the hospital, Mitchell said.

The accused student was charged with second-degree assault and was taken to Strickland Youth Center, Mitchell said.

Pitiful.

posted by Terry at 10:15:00 AM

I have been a bad person. Charles Austin has had not one, but TWO of his heartwarming Scourges of Richard Cohen (Episodes Forty 8 and Forty 9) sitting out for almost a WEEK now and I have neglected to provide this link right here. In these, we find that Richard Cohen does not like Ann Coulter or Shameful Gaps. (I never shop at Gap, and I think Ann would look better with about 10 more pounds.) Charles also lets us in on the differences between illiberal utopian statists and everyone else:

[...] Most weekday mornings I wake up, roll out of bed, shower, shave, get dressed, kiss the wife, and head out the door to work. Sometime during the day, I will usually suffer some pang of guilt about something I have done recently, but more usually over something that happened many years ago that continues to trouble my conscience. It passes quickly and I move on to try and discharge another of my myriad responsibilities. I can’t be sure, but I imagine that most people’s lives go more or less the same way, with occasional regrets over long ago transgressions or missed opportunities that we can do little about now and bear no further mention.

But if you are a bleeding heart illiberal, your day goes nothing like this. Exhibit A: Richard Cohen, who wakes up, but cannot immediately roll out of bed due to the omnipresent weight that rests on his shoulders from the cumulative shame of centuries of oppression and injustice committed on his behalf – or so he believes. After several hours of woeful moaning and virtual self-flagellation over his culpability for the sins of others long dead, Richard musters the strength to raise himself and set out to right these long passed wrongs with other people’s money. Richard has no qualms about using other people’s money since they both agree with him and will willingly hand over their money and freedom to assuage Richard’s guilt, or else they are heartless, compassionless, conservative racists who know they are guilty but refuse to accept their culpability for these sins of commission by their ancestors and their current responsibility for righting these past wrongs. They deserve to have their wealth confiscated to help Richard feel better about himself – because he cares! [...]

posted by Terry at 9:58:00 AM

Congratulation to Papa Kudzu! Larry Anderson is becoming a daddy in-law!

posted by Terry at 9:37:00 AM

Clinton May Yak on CBS Oh joy. First NBC, now CBS (which will now stand for Clinton's Bull S**t).

[...] Rumors to that effect have surfaced again on word that syndication powerhouse King World and the CBS-owned stations are pursuing the idea with Clinton's camp. Both firms are units of Viacom Inc.

The show would probably be a cross between "Oprah," which King World distributes, and "Nightline" and air in daytime. [...]

King World execs haven't apparently yet met with the 42nd president, but have talked with people involved with the project -- including attorneys close to the leader -- about creating a Clinton vehicle. [...]

Aside from getting Clinton to actually say yes, other issues have to be resolved before a chatfest would become reality.

These include the matter of money: According to media reports in May, Clinton would demand a hefty $50 million check upfront. Others say his asking price is much lower. [...]

Ahh yes, "we've determined WHAT you are, we're only negotiating the price."

Mac Thomason over at WarLiberal asked several weeks ago why it is conservatives won't shut up and leave po' ol' Billy C alone. Were it only so easy...he doesn't WANT to be left alone!

posted by Terry at 9:16:00 AM

Reps. Barr, McKinney Defeated in Georgia

I'm sure that Ms. McKinney already has a very complete list of conspiracy theories of why she lost. I mean, why would anyone vote against her?!

[Update--I see over on Instapundit that the theories started rolling out even as the votes were being counted--of course, the reason I was so slow in posting this is due to those darned CIA orgone ray generators]

posted by Terry at 9:00:00 AM

News From My Hometown: Trussville decides against spraying for mosquitoes

Trussville officials said last week that the city will not spray for mosquitoes, but instead is using a larvacide to protect residents from West Nile Virus.

Mayor Gene Melton said workers are putting larvacide wherever there is standing water to prevent the spread of mosquitoes in the city. "But we're not going to spray," Melton said during last week's City Council meeting. "The Health Department has said that spraying is ineffective." Melton said that the city will take caution not to spray insecticide to protect those residents who have respiratory problems. [...]

Lewis V. "Cooter" Simpson, head of Trussville's streets and sanitation department, said that workers found three dead birds a couple of weeks ago in the city and sent them to the health department for testing.

"We haven't heard anything back from them," Simpson said. [...]

When the head of your town's Street and San department is nicknamed Cooter, you know you're doing alright.

posted by Terry at 8:49:00 AM

Howdy up to Rich Hailey from Shots Across the Bow, who sent me a link to his ongoing saga of vacationing down Florida way. In particular, he has this to say about something near and dear to my heart:

[...] The possum is just too slow to make it across a highway, and keeps getting squished beneath the tires of an SUV loaded with kids coming back from a soccer game. Now a smart person would decide that maybe the possum needs to be a little smarter, or a lot faster in order to avoid oncoming traffic. But no, evolution decides to go in a different direction altogether. Nature gave the possum a suit of armor, so that it could stand against the oncoming vehicle and do valiant battle with it. Nature even equipped the improved possum with an aggressive nature, causing it to leap up at the approach of a car, to better engage the enemy. Once she made these modifications, nature decided the new, improved possum needed a new name, one which befit its new weaponry. She called it "armadillo", from the latin for " little warrior" and sent it out to do battle.

Sadly, nature didn't take physics into account, and the 10 pound armadillo continued to get creamed by the two ton cars it challenged. In time, the meaning of "armadillo" changed to "Critter most likely to be found squashed by the roadside." [...]

Mmmm! Possum on the half-shell!

I have linked to this before, but here is an interesting article from the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources entitled "Armadillos, Possums and Pavement." (Sounds like some sort of scary Driver's Ed film they show at Stupid Mammal High School.) It's a short article, but full of wonderful information--

[...] Opossums are true marsupials, meaning the young live in an external pouch after birth. They can be found throughout the eastern United States and along the extreme west coast. They are nocturnal animals that can climb well. The first toe on their hind feet is opposable (thumb-like) and they have a prehensile tail. The opossum is a scavenger on carrion (dead animal meat), and the smell of death draws it to the pavement. Many times, two or even three opossums are found dead at one site, all drawn to the animal carcass they were feeding on. [...]

Wow--I nearly forgot! It's time for breakfast...

posted by Terry at 8:34:00 AM

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

Survey: Teens say marijuana easy to get
But...but, that's ILLEGAL!

posted by Terry at 2:15:00 PM

Interesting coincidence--one of the folks quoted in this story "Engineers soak up what they can about building safety by studying Sept. 11 tragedy" will be coming to Birmingham on Thursday to give a lecture about the WTC collapse:

[...] A year of intensive study by academics, engineers and government officials also revealed a number of other key points.

They've concluded, for instance, that even if the towers hadn't collapsed, it would have been difficult, maybe impossible, to rescue victims from the higher floors because exit stairwells were severely damaged or blocked.

And they've learned that thousands of gallons of jet fuel burned off within minutes of each plane hitting its target. It was the resulting office fires that actually weakened the towers enough to fell them.

But much remains unknown -- including whether any other design could have changed the result.

"All bets are off when you run an airplane into a building," said Gene Corley, a lead engineering investigator on both the Oklahoma City bombing and the Sept. 11 tragedy. [...]

I plan to be there; it promises to be a very good lecture--Dr. Corley has an extensive history of forensic analysis of building failures, and testified before Congress about the WTC. This is a link to the American Society of Civil Engineers' newsletter article from April about his appearance.

A lot can be said for making buildings better at protecting their occupants from the consequences of those bent on wreaking destruction on innocent people. But folks, we can't afford to all live in bunkers, nor should we have to. We can build the strongest buildings on earth, but until we eliminate those who would do us harm, we will forever be hunkering behind Jersey barriers and concrete flower pots and shuffling through security gates.

That is not freedom, and it is not security.

posted by Terry at 2:04:00 PM

¡Olé!

posted by Terry at 10:53:00 AM

Just wanted to give a shout-out to a couple of folks who wrote in last week to say they enjoyed reading about my wedding anniversary. First up is a very nice lady from up in Tarheelandia who goes by the name of B. Indigo (I don't think that's her real name) in her blog called Indigo Insights. Thanks to her for all of the nice things she says about the oddness found herein, and a personal plea to all the Possumblog readers to please tell her how to set up a comment system! (She is also a bud of Redneckin's Chuck Myguts.)

And second is Francesca Watson (not Watkins--I am such a feeb) who has a personal website here, and does all sorts of stuff, including singing gospel music and playing in a rock band. In our exchange of e-mails, I pressured her to start her own blog due to her stellar record of managing to rack up four "thanks to" listings on OpinionJournal.com's Best of the Web column a couple of weeks ago. She says such an idea is "dangerous," which I think is all the more reason to do it. It will also allow us to join forces to start the drive for Jessica Rabbit to have her very own movie.

posted by Terry at 10:48:00 AM

So, Fred, you've had a long hard day in the trenches of research science--what are you gonna want to fill your gullet? Why Rat Head Stew, of course!

[...] I opened the autoclave slowly, to let the pressure escape gradually, and out pours a cloud of rat-head-scented steam filling the room...a vapor of all my little chums I had nurtured for 40 days, until I became their executioner. Was it too late to consider a career change, I wondered? Not a good day, folks. I was never so relieved when the job came to a stopping place and I could go home where there were no rats...heads, teeth or otherwise. I began the 2 mile walk home, trying to think about anything other than the details of my day.

Ah, finally, our apartment door appears. Ann has been home today and I am looking forward to a home-cooked meal. I will never forget opening the door and being overcome by the smell of hot, cooked meat. Ham, if I recall. It was overpowering, too much like the rat head stew I had just left; I almost chucked my cookies. I apologized from outside the door and without explaining other than to say "I'm sorry. We have to eat out tonight. Don't ask. I will tell you about it. Some day. Maybe. Let's go get a salad". [...]

Mmmmm, boy!

posted by Terry at 10:29:00 AM

Not just a venture capitalist, but pretty smart when it comes to WMD, too--good thing she's a member of the Axis of Weevil.

posted by Terry at 9:26:00 AM

Good one from Steven Den Beste--a layman's look at libel law as it relates to discourse on the Internet.

[...] In other words, the current jurisprudence in libel law is designed precisely to prevent people from succeeding in doing what you just attempted to do in your letter, which was to make a veiled threat of lawsuit as a way of attempting to coerce me into voluntarily restricting my use of my First Amendment rights of free expression. But that won't work with me because I understand the applicable law and I know full well that you don't have any case.

So don't bother making any further veiled threats of libel suits. I'm not even slightly impressed. If you feel the need to continue with that line, don't bother me until you've talked to a lawyer and actually filed a suit in court. Then let me know and I'll get a lawyer of my own and we'll see what happens.

But before you talk to an attorney, you might be interested to know that there has never been a successful libel lawsuit where someone online actually sued someone else online for what they said, in a situation similar to ours. There have only been a very small number of attempts, and none of them has ever resulted in a judgment for the plaintiff.[...]

Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?

posted by Terry at 9:08:00 AM

Somehow, I just KNEW this was coming: Iraq Shows Baby Milk Store at Reported Weapons Site

Yes, yes...nothings in here except the making of the pure fresh baby milks. That is why we have the writing of the words BABY MILKS in very large letters. No, we do not know why the filthy Kurds have been getting sick when we spray it upon their babies--it must because of their weak physiques and infidelic ways.

posted by Terry at 8:48:00 AM

Alabama Academy of Honor 2002 Inductees

Alabama does a lot to shoot itself in the foot, but there are still a lot of people here who have made this place and the United States a better place through their influence.

James Arthur Head Sr. remembers watching the Ku Klux Klan march down 20th Street in 1927 and hearing U.S. Sen. "Cotton Tom" Heflin a year later whip a packed auditorium into a frenzy as he bashed Catholics, Jews and immigrants.

"That kind of frightened me a little bit," said Head, 97, who attended Catholic school as a boy in Ohio and Indiana.

Soon afterward, Head and about 10 other people gathered in Mary Beard's tea room on 20th Street, where Avondale Mills President Donald Comer told them the fear and hatred had to be stopped.

That meeting launched a small group that in 1932 became the Alabama chapter of the National Conference of Christians and Jews, and it marked the beginning of Head's long history of public and behind-the-scenes work in civil rights.

Head will be honored for that work and other accomplishments at the Capitol on Monday, when he is inducted into the Alabama Academy of Honor with National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice, senior federal Judge John Godbold and retired Stillman College President Cordell Wynn. [...]

For decades, he chaired the state's chapter of the National Conference of Christians and Jews. He remembers touring the state for the NCCJ in the 1930s through 1950s with his friends Will Engel, head of Engel Realty Company, William Pritchard, a lawyer, and Emil Hess, who later transformed his family's second-floor store into Parisian Inc.

They preached a social gospel of racial, ethnic and religious tolerance in meetings with community leaders, pastors, school superintendents, bankers, police chiefs and newspaper editors, and often struck out.

"A banker would say, `Keep my name out of it, because I'd lose half my customers immediately.' A lawyer would say, `Look, I'd lose half of my clients.' Believe it, that was a standard reaction," Head said.

He and others believed Alabamians could enrich their lives and pocketbooks, "if we could just eliminate the turmoil, the prejudice, the hatred, the animosity, and all of us work together." [...]

Lemarse Washington, executive director of the Alabama region of the NCCJ, now called The National Conference for Community and Justice, called Head "a jewel."

"I think he's had probably more influence than anyone else, as far as a white person in Birmingham over the years, for building community and seeking justice and equality for all of Birmingham's citizens," Washington said.

"Mr. Head was in the forefront of all of that. And not necessarily walking in the streets and marching, but getting things done where it's really getting done, behind the scenes, talking to the power brokers individually, saying, `This is what we need to do because it's the right thing to do.'"

Head, whose voice still booms when he wants it to, paused when asked how he felt about his election into the Academy of Honor.

"Humble," he said softly.

posted by Terry at 8:34:00 AM

Monday, August 19, 2002

Oh, I know you all have just been a’clamorin’ for this mess—who am I to deny you the incredibly detailed remembrances of the past 72 hours. (And won’t you be surprised when FOX picks it up and makes it into a show! It’ll be three times better than 24, and they’re talking to Eli “Voice of NASCAR” Gold to play the part of me! That’s money in the bank, baby!)

A word of warning: The following is way too long.

FRIDAY. Got home and found that Reba had picked out some anniversary cards and gifts—I am impossible to buy for, mainly because I would be satisfied with anything she gave me—bright blue leisure suit? Thank you, it’s beautiful! Poke in the eye? Your lovely fingers make it all the more enjoyable! I’m just as happy with nothing as anything, but she still feels bad if she doesn’t get a little something for me. I won’t tell you all of it, but two of the things were a couple of videos of stuff we never got to see in the theaters; A Beautiful Mind, the story of some chick who looks exactly like Jennifer Connelly who falls in love with a schizophrenic math wiz (wow, just like me) and The Lord of the Rings, the story of Liv Tyler and Cate Blanchett and a bunch of guys running around. But, before we could enjoy these, there was the Pre-Mother’s Birthday and Anniversary Dinner that was thrown together for my sister’s benefit, since she was only going to be home for a day or two.

Over to Riverchase to the Hunan Garden Chinese Restaurant (and every time I type “Hunan” I mistakenly type “Human,” which just makes me giggle every time I think about it) and had a very nice meal, except for the constant necessity of telling one particular member of the Oglesby family to quit putting her mouth on the plate, and quit blowing bubbles in her Sprite, and quit talking with food in her mouth, and quit loudly asking to go to the bathroom to poop, and quit turning around and staring at the two guys behind us, and quit asking why they are holding hands, and quit burping, and quit putting rice in her hair. SHEESH! (Can’t take my danged mom ANYwhere!)

Actually, this was Tiny Girl, who since coming down with her cranio-nasal cruddiolity (I realize some of you aren’t familiar with the medical terms, but it makes me sound smart to use them) has just been an absolute pill. Apparently all of her gray matter has been replaced with green matter, which causes a decided slowing of the firing of the “Good Girl” synapses, and an inversely proportional quickening of the synapse exchanges devoted to loud, obstinate, turdliness and associated lachrymal deluges.

All the rest of the kids excitedly yammered to my sister about her new kitty, and I resisted the urge to say something mean like, “Cats are wonderful—you’re eating one right now!” I had enough to deal with without that, so I just tended to my Kung Pao animal flesh, which was really good.

It was fun; good to see Mama and sis, but I sure was glad to be through with it, just the same. (Mainly because I wanted to go home and watch my movie.)

Got the kids in bed and put in Lord of the Rings. Movie Review Time I was never a big Tolkien reader, but had enough general knowledge of his work and of the hype about the movie and all the Burger King toys to sorta know what to expect. Excellent movie—I enjoy stories about stuff such as this with all the elves and ogres and trolls and dwarves and silly English kkkkkk-niggits. Beautifully done movie, lots of walking about, some real fancy swordwork. (Interesting note, just in case: Orcs fight just like movie ninjas—huge hordes who politely wait their turn to attack the good guys.) Did I mention Liv Tyler and Cate Blanchett? Them Elfwomen is sure real purty like. Which might make for a pretty good second episode if they make it to where Middle Earth somehow manages to intersect with The South. First of all, we’d get rid of all them glowing Elvish blades (although it is worth noting that Elvis collected knives) and show ‘em how to shoot (which Elvis REALLY liked), which would really throw them Ninja Orcs for a loop, and there would be a wet t-shirt contest for Elfchicks, and dadgummit, we’d find a ride for all them little Hobbit fellers so they wouldn’t have to walk everywhere—in fact, what would be even better is to have ‘em ride around in Bigfoot! Now THAT, my friends, would be a derned MOVIE!

Anyway, the movie really is very nicely made and the live scenery and studio sets are beautiful and nicely detailed—the only parts that got in my way were the edits for when the Hobbits appeared with other actors. Sometimes they obviously used kids, other shots relied on camera angles, and others were CGI, but it wasn’t quite seamless because the proportions kept changing; this is especially true when kids were used, simply because of the different proportion of head to body size between a child and an adult. Liv Tyler is in this movie, but not enough. Nor Cate Blanchett. I wish now that we had seen it at the theater, but it still translates pretty well to the small screen. The scary parts are good enough to have given Catherine and maybe Jonathan bad dreams had they been watching it, but for kids over about 9 or 10 it’s probably not too bad. I didn’t have more than a couple of nightmares, myself—I believe it was the thought of big, hairy Hobbitgirl feet. Eww.

SATURDAY. Finally, the end of regularly scheduled horseback riding. They have really enjoyed it, and I have, too, but it does take a big chunk out of the productive part of the day. They got to ride bareback this time, and Jonathan managed to do all of his leaning over and turning around and stuff without getting scared, even though once he slid off and made a big Sam Peckinpah production of falling in slow motion to the ground. (Would have served him right if he had landed in a big pile of processed horse feed, but at least he jumped back on without having to be chastised by Dad.) After they got through, the kids were as nasty as could be from the aforementioned sans-saddle riding. Horses are prone to becoming quite dusty and sweaty—JUST LIKE KIDS! Eww. Took them home and made them strip in the garage then run squealing upstairs to take baths.

Did some laundry, Reba cooked some soup, I finally fixed the tire with the screw in it, refilled all the bird/squirrel feeders, pulled up mimosas (another of the fine family of invasive Asian species), trimmed the roses, struggled to defeat the wild tendrils of the wisteria vine which has grown to Audrey-like proportions, and generally puttered around getting all stinky and hot.

Came in, sat down, opened the curtains at the kitchen table so I could watch the hummingbirds and vegetate, and had lunch. The girls had already finished and were avoiding chores in other parts of the house and Boy had just finished his bath, so we had a bowl of Mommy’s special home-made soup.

Reba sat down and all three of us just sort of sat and talked about not much.

Look at that little bird.

Need to go to the store.

Trees are starting to turn.

That hickory tree looks dead.

Other trees have really grown this year.

Except Catherine’s. Mean ol’ Japanese beetles just about got away with eating it all gone.

“What’re Japanese beetles?” asked Jonathan.

It is instances like this that the professionals call “teachable moments,” when a topic comes up naturally in conversation and you are able to impart your knowledge to your child in a way that will be memorable and allow him a better understanding of the world around him.

I put my spoon down, and started off, “Well, son, they are small, round, metallic-looking beetles that eat tree leaves, like Catherine’s cherry tree…” His little eyes were locked on me with an earnest desire to learn, to grow… I deftly held up the corners of my eyes, “and they gettah they choppastickah, and they fry arong until they see a yummy twee, and thennnnn they EATAH IT UP AHH GONE! And before they put a littah soy sauce onah leaves, they hold their sixah littah ahms up in the air and yell, ‘BONSAI! BONSAI! BONSAI!’ As I kept up my highly inappropriate, culturally insensitive anthropomorphic stereotyping of Popillia japonica, (including the dreaded sumo variant) he collapsed into a paroxysm of silly laughter, at one point falling down completely onto the kitchen floor and rolling around.

“And that, son, is what a Japanese beetle is.”

Saturday evening we went to get Oldest Girl some church clothes—Reba took her to the row of clothing stores between Home Depot and Target, while I agreed to keep the others far, far away to avoid undue shopping stress. I dropped off Mom and Ashley and drove back down to Target by way of the lower parking lot, which was again full of the old car Saturday cruiser folks. Many more than there were last month, and a few more better looking cars this time. Still a lot of odd ones that have a lot of sentimental value only to their owner—one stood out—a jacked up, bright yellow, stock-bodied shoebox Ford Tudor. Yikes, talk about unique. And hard work—a business coupe or convertible would have been much easier on the eyes, and none of the ’49 to ‘51s look right with a lift kit. Whew. Lots of other good stuff was there, though, but I dared not get out and look with three little demolition dynamos. Anyway, I would probably wind up doing something stupid like buying something.

After a couple of hours of Targetry (with only two trips to the restroom and only fifty uses of “DON’T TOUCH THAT!”) we met back up with our other shoppers and headed home in a just-starting rain. All of the cruisers picked this moment to start leaving, too, so getting out was a chore. And loud. Finally got out onto the highway and pulled up alongside a relatively nice GT500-KR fastback, which seemed to be quite a handful on the slightly wet pavement. Yow. 428 cubic inches of pure pucker power. I reminisced to Reba about the time I found myself staring back at a line of traffic after trying to complete a simple left turn onto a damp street in my AMX.

“Do you miss your car?” I had sold it right before we got married. “Nah, not really. I had been ready to get rid of it and start something else, anyway. Maybe one day it might be fun to do one for Jonathan.” Which, if you know the signs, is the sound of someone laying the groundwork for a future in which his obsessive/compulsive personality disorder is transferred back to its rightful home under the hood of an obnoxiously loud and fast hunk of iron (cleverly disguised as a father-son project.) Heaven help us all.

SUNDAY. Good crowd at church, no hiccups with Sunday school, ran out of time long before I ran out of material for the kids in my class, and made the big mistake of bringing my bag of goodies. I am an idiot. They had been nice and quiet for 45 minutes, and then I get them all wound up when it was time to go, by rewarding their niceness with a chance to get a prize out of the sack. Which created pandemonium (which is really bad in church, you know.) Not gonna do that again.

Afterwards, we went to see my mom again at her house, stopping first for our usual meal at Ruby Tuesday. Once again we arrived too early to get Jennifer, instead being saddled with some glacier-slow moon-faced idjitboy. When I asked where Oldest Girl’s food was, he went back to the kitchen to check, but before coming to tell us what was going on, decided a better customer-relations duty was to walk right past us with his other hivemates and sing their HappyCrappyBirthday song for someone on the other side of the restaurant.

Arrrrrrrrrrrgh.

Jennifer The Great came by to say hey, and I verified for future reference that she does indeed come on duty at noon. She said she did, so it now looks like from now on we’ll just have to wander aimlessly around Leeds for an hour so as to be sure to get her. She asked if everything was okay (even though it was not her table) and I allowed that our dough-brained server was not quite in her league. She asked if she could get us more napkins or anything else (again, even though she wasn’t our waitress) but I said it was okay. I wanted that little fellow to work for every dime of the tip he got. He just better be glad my mom wasn’t there, or all he would have gotten would have been a dime. My mom is very…thrifty.

Got to her house, and had a very nice visit. She would kill me if she knew I was telling you she is going to be 73 next week, but I do it anyway just to pick on her. And I pick on her mainly because if she wanted to she could still whip me. And just about anybody else. She works her own garden, cuts her own grass, keeps up her own big old house, works 40+ hours a week, and thinks nothing of calling stupid “stupid.” For any of you who like Billnhillary, Ralph Nader, David Duke, Louis Farrakhan, Jane Fonda, Jesse Jackson, Don Siegelman, art that looks like a drop cloth, lawyers, car salesmen, PETA, or women who act coarse, I would advise you to steer clear of admitting these things in front of her or you might get your ears pinned back. It’s always fun to visit Mom.

The older girls really like this trip, because Granny Jean had gone through her closets and found some of my sister’s duds from the Nineteen Seventies, which due to the great care my sister had shown them, and their near indestructibility, were now ready for a new generation of fashionably retro-minded young girls. Thankfully, these were not the hippy-dippy crap that Old Navy sells nowadays, but some of the kinda cute clothes that were made back then (believe it or not, there actually were some, but they don’t have the same self-referential ironic parody potential as the really ugly crap.) The girls were tickled to death to go through them all, and I’m glad they have some clothes that don’t start falling apart as soon as they’re worn once. It got time to go much too soon. Happy Birthday, Mom!

Headed back for evening church, headed home, ate some more of that good soup, and time for blessed rest.

Then came Monday morning, which failed to kill me, but another such victory and I shall be undone.

Then comes tonight with soccer practice and homework and baths and maybe, just maybe, a bit of time to watch my other new movie. (While at Target I managed to sneak a copy of The Magnificent Seven into the cart.)

posted by Terry at 3:29:00 PM

No more posts until this afternoon. I have to finish typing up minutes from our meeting last week and get some other stuff out of the way for several out of office experiences on Tuesday and Thursday.

Darned ol' work.

posted by Terry at 10:11:00 AM

Separating the Wheat from the Staff

Well, that's finally over with. If there is one single thing less productive that our staff meetings, I am unaware of it. (Unless it's blogging.) In any event, the highlight of the meeting was the review of the Council agenda and this item:

ITEM 12.
A Resolution commending the Birmingham Water Works Tapping Team on its win at this year's 17th Annual American Water Works Association Tapping Contest.

Now, lest you invision a burly troupe of men in hard hats with tap shoes and pipe wrenches, this competion is to see which team can tap a large diameter, pressurized water line and install a watertight doo-hickey in the shortest time. You can read all about it here.

So see, sometimes some good can come out of these meetings.

posted by Terry at 9:31:00 AM

Forget the derned weekend--what a Monday morning!

Half the family now has the barking-seal-sounding croup, had to deal with a two-year-old trapped in the body of a twelve year old who JUST! COULDN'T! GET! HER! HAIR! TO! DO! RIGHT!, had to get everyone to swallow bowls of mushy cereal (mushy only because of the time they spent arguing the finer points of "Uh-HUH!--UH-UHHH!--DID!--DID NOT!" rather than eating), had to roll wife out of the door on a gurney due to her debility with the barking-seal-sounding-croup (I believe hers has actually passed on into the epizutic), had to stop at the post office on the way out on my morning child delivery run to buy two three-cent stamps, which is always a pain because of the dodginess of the stamp machines, then had to swing by the gas and water works office to drop off my bill and keep the water and gas turned on another month, then get the kids dropped off at the appropriate schools (and this morning I was really wishing for a more conveniently located reform school), then dropped my mind into neutral along with everyone else travelling on I-59 South into Birmingham, got in and found out that not only had my just-mailed-in telephone bill contained a charge for receiving a call from a number in Vincennes, Indiana, said call was to a personal 800 number I never knew I had, and said call came from a fax machine, which required a call to Verizon Long Distance Customer Service to cancel the 800 number (still have to pay for the call, though, and the apologetic fellow on the other end punctuated his apology with "really--that's not a lie," which is a sad commentary on something) and finally I had to write this paragraph.

Right before strolling into our staff meeting, which will take entirely too long, and further delay me in telling you the wonderful yarns of a weekend in the paradise that is my neighborhood--tune in later on today for exciting and thrilling stories of Kung Pao chicken, The Lord of the Rings, filthy horses, sumo/samurai Japanese beetles, Target practice, old cars, The Return To Bennigan's, missing Jennifer, Mama'n'em AGAIN, rain, and maybe a puppy story.

Whew.

posted by Terry at 8:29:00 AM

HOME - ARCHIVES - E-Mail terryoglesby@gmail.com - The slow moving, omnivorous, prehensile-tailed marsupial of the web.

free hit counter Visits since 12/20/2001--
so what if they're mostly me!