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 02, 2003

Taliban Said Teaming With al-Qaida Again

Well, you know, the last time worked out so well.

posted by Terry at 5:04:00 PM

Newly Discovered Asteroid to Be Monitored

There's probably a lawyer somewhere who's going to sue to protect the asteroid's right to privacy from being violated.

posted by Terry at 5:01:00 PM

Notable Quotes!

"I personally think actors should remain actors, but I know he's always had blind ambition for that, so maybe it'll work out great for him."

-- SYLVESTER STALLONE, on ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER's run for California governor.

Yeah, Arnie wants to be a politician sorta like Stallone wants to be an actor. Maybe it'll work out great for Sly.

posted by Terry at 4:58:00 PM

SHOES!!
We hopped in the van to head across the parking lot to visit one of the smaller shoe stores in the strip to see if they had anything to fit Boy. No luck. Then it was time to swing by our home away from home (i.e., Wal-Mart). I had turned the radio on and found that in the brief time we had been in the restaurant, the Trojans had already begun the awful butt-whupping of the Tigers. Which went on the rest of the afternoon. We didn’t get back home to be able to see it on a television until the middle of the third quarter, and aside from the occasional third and long conversion or second and short, Auburn looked absolutely horrid. No offense, no offensive line, some defense but not nearly enough. Ick. Better get better quick—next game will be to travel to Grant Field in Atlanta to take on the Ramblin’ Wreck who, although not ranked, are sorta mean. The Jackets do have the disadvantage of not having an easily navigated cheerleading site, which is the sort of thing I predicted last week would haunt Auburn as they took on the USCeans and their song leaders. Oh well.

At least we found shoes. Boy has been begging for some new penny loafers for months now—he’s been hobbling around like he’s got razors in his shoes (except when we aren’t looking, at which times he seems perfectly fine). It’s hard to find little boy shoes that look dressy, all of them being afflicted with the oversized Doc Marten look. Sorry, but dress shoes shouldn’t look like combat boots. Anyway, the only thing we’ve found that we both really like are these nice little “Faded Glory” brand loafers from Wal-Mart. We have looked and looked lately and haven’t found a single pair, but we hit the jackpot this time. He quickly found a pair and was excited as a little boy with a new pair of loafers. (Far be it from me to criticize, but isn’t “Faded Glory” a bit of a let-down of a name? What’s next, Paradise Lost? Sunset of Life? Squandered Opportunities? Washed Up Has-Been? Good For Nothing Loser?) He also needed yet another pair of soccer cleats, so we got some of those, and then it was time for the real burden—a pair of church shoes for Catherine.

She doesn’t like anything.

Well, I take that back—she likes EVERYTHING except Shoes Young Children Should Wear to Church. Bright red tap shoes with sequins? Gotta have. (NO.) Platform hippie shoes? Gotta have. (NO.) Doc Marten hiking boots from the boy’s aisle? Gotta have. (NO.) Hello Kitty pink patent leather with clear heels? Gotta have. (NO.) We went through several more restrained styles, but aside from her not particularly liking the way they looked, none of them fit her. Rebecca found one pair of suede ones with a little Velcro strap that she absolutely refused to try on. ::sigh::

It being the end of the season, they had stacks of white shoes, though. “Can I have white shoes with the white bows like dis!?” “Sweetheart,” I said with much weary exasperation, “it’s almost Labor Day…” “Oh.” No explanation—I just glanced sidelong at her to watch the wheels spin trying to figure out what the day of the week has to do with shoe choice. On to K-Mart.

Wandered around looking at everything but shoes for a while—found a couple of bathmats and toilet seat cozies in the Insider Trader section, which reminded me that I needed to go get some toilet seats.

This time was going to be different. Nothing with metal, nothing with a wood core. Just thin, hard, solid-color plastic. (By the way, it was A Good Thing.) I am tired of rusty stains from the hardware and tired of hearing the kids slam the wood ones down like gavels, and tired of the nasty looking hard water stains on the bottoms that won’t come off with anything short of a wire brush mounted on a grinder motor. So I got two of the plain ‘uns. “DAD!! LOOK!!” No padding, you little tenderbutt! WHYYYY, back in my day, we had to walk to the outhouse a mile back in the woods, and sit on a cold hard hunk of tree trunk with splinters as big as sixteen penny nails, and all covered in weevils and termites and brown recluse spiders and copperheads. “No, sugar—we don’t need one like that. No, not the one with ducks, either. Put it down.”

Over to the shoes for Tiny Loud Girls, where we once again tried on every possible shoe. Including a nice black suede one with a little Velcro strap, that was just a tiny bit too small. She really like it and was quite disappointed that it didn’t come in her size. “That’s the same kind I found at Wal-Mart that she said she didn’t like,” said Middle Girl. ::sigh:: Back to Wal-Mart.

This time I stayed in the van to listen to some more of the game, which was better than traipsing back through Wallyworld for the second time. They came back later with the suede shoes she wouldn’t try on to begin with and some other stuff that was Essential for the Well Being of the Entire Universe. (You people can thank me later.) Then it was back home to finish watching Auburn get mauled.

Got the kids bathed and their heads scrubbed and got them into bed and settled down with Miss Reba for a nice romantic evening of watching The Great Escape. Which she liked just fine, believe it or not, although it lasted a bit too long to watch as a late movie for folks who had to get up early the next morning.

Which we did. Difficult though it was. Got the squids ready for church, gave them some breakfast and watched a little Sunday Today—Soledad O’Brien, please come back from wherever you are.

Off to church, taught Rebecca’s class, then had worship, then we had our fifth Sunday meal—and a nice spread it was. Took forever since we only had one line, but some really good food. I had garbage duty, so I didn’t get to relax much and jabber with everyone as I was too busy trying to get people not to throw full cups of drinks into the cans—whenever you lift out the garbage bag, if there’s a hole, you get a nice little trail of ick all the way to the dumpster. Some folks are just real clueless. You have a big bowl of obviously thrown-out beverages sitting right there beside the trash can, and people will look at it, make a face, then just chunk their still-full cups into the trash can.

I laid hands on several and gnashed on them with my teeth and smote them and didst mightily rebuke them and gave them many wounds. After that, they were better about it. Somewhat. Got all hot and sweaty from making runs to the dumpster, then we went right back into the auditorium for our evening service. We did an earlier service than normal so the kids could go to a youth meeting that afternoon. It was very nice—the young guys got to do the whole thing. We have a couple of young fellows who are surprisingly good. Thus finished up, we had the entire rest of the day for to relax.

Went home and changed into slob clothes and read the paper and watched part of Rocky and Bullwinkle and then watched part of the second episode of Lord of the Rings. Like the first, a stunningly beautiful movie with lots of scary stuff. For some reason, the obvious little kid stand-ins for the Hobbits were much less noticeable than in the first movie. The gollum Smeagol is done very seamlessly—there is still something CGIey about some of his movements and some of his anatomy, but overall it’s incredibly well done. On the other hand, that Miranda Otto girl had nothing wrong with the way she looked. She's one real fine looking Eowyn, and she can do all that sword-flinging bit with admirable skill. And she has nice hair.

Sometime in there we finally all went to bed, then it was up again early yesterday so we could go over to Reba’s mom and dad’s for the traditional Labor Day meal of concentrated carbs and grilled animals. Pork spare ribs, hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, deviled eggs, corn on the cob, baked beans, macaroni and cheese, cole slaw. MmMM! I kept the high starch stuff to a minimum, but had to eat several of those ribs. Good stuff. Finally full, it was time to head back to the house, where I laid on the couch the rest of the afternoon and snored while the kids watch MORE Rocky and Bullwinkle and Sabrina, the Teenaged Witch and the parts of the LOTR that they had missed the other night, and All Sorts of Other Stuff. Then I came here and wrote it all down. Why? Who knows. But I did it anyway.

And I was just informed by our computer guy that I might be getting my new Windows 2000(!) this afternoon. Or tomorrow morning. Maybe. Or not. Stay tuned!

posted by Terry at 4:45:00 PM

TV's New 'Whoopi' Takes on Race, Terror and Bush

Having only seen the promo spots, it's hard to say how good it will be. You know, on the teasers they try to show the funniest stuff to hook you and make you want to watch. I sure hope they are doing the old switcheroo, 'cause the promos look about as fresh as the syndicated version of Weakest Link, as hosted by that stupid mushhead guy.

But hey, whadda I know.

posted by Terry at 2:30:00 PM

BUT, before we get to Supper,

I forgot to mention the outcome of the tournament—the girls had another game at 8 o’clock Sunday morning, which meant we couldn’t make it—they played a team called the Lady Jets (sorry, no idea where they were from) and jumped out to a 4-0 lead in the first half, so the coach called them back a bit and they coasted to a final of 4-2. The three victories put them in the final game, which was scheduled for 12:30 Sunday afternoon, which once again she had to miss because of church. This one didn’t go so well—another one of the Hoover Phantom teams who had kicked butt all weekend was the opponent, and unlike our coach who thought four points in the first half was quite enough to be sporting, they decided they didn’t need to stop until they had shut us out 10-0. Ouch. But, the girls still came in with a respectable 27 tournament points, only 2 less than the 29 of the team that beat them, and a solid 6 ahead of the third place team from Mountain Brook. So, not so bad. And now we have someone to shoot for. Heh.

SO, going back to Saturday, we packed back up and headed to home as fast as we could. We had to meet my mother and sister for my mom’s belated birthday dinner, so Middle Girl had to get home and destink and then we were going to have to race to get to the restaurant on time. A time which I myself set. Being 5 p.m. Otherwise known as the kickoff time for the Auburn game. Why I did this, I have no clue. In retrospect, it turned out to be the right thing to do.

Got home at close to 4:00, and no one was ready to go. ::sigh:: I started playing drill sergeant to get everyone dressed and tried to get Bec in the tub. I would walk by and she would be sitting on the pot, or singing, or talking—anything but bathing. Finally, we couldn’t wait anymore so I just told her to scrub down with a bathcloth and douse herself with deodorant, because WE HAVE TO LEAVE!!

Shoved them all in the van and made it to the oh-so-swanky Palace Chinese restaurant in the Wal-Mart shopping center at exactly 5:00 p.m. How we did this (without me stroking out) is something of a miracle. Mom and Sis had already gotten a table, so we sat down and the mayhem ensued. Our kids usually have wonderful table manners. Usually. But not then. Like the ill-advised timing of our little soire, their rabid-baboon-like antics likewise stood as an ill omen for what was happening down in the Loveliest Village. Supper, though, was very good—half of us got the stim chickeh an’ wegabah, which is very healthy but devoid of ANY seasoning. The hot and sour soup was great, too. Lots of chunks of…something. And not too mucousy, either. (Sometimes restaurants will go heavy on the cornstarch and skimp on real ingredients. Like chunks. Mmmm. Chunks.)

My mom, by the way, is now 74 years old and I want to say I am dreadfully sorry for every time that I acted like a rabid baboon. Had I known at the time that such shenanigans would be revisited on me, and yea, increased by a factor of four, I really think that I would have refrained from at least half of what I did.

Now, of course, she is very calm, and reassures me with words supposed to be of comfort, “Oh, Terry, they’re just kids.”

Yeah, right. THEY’RE OUT TO GET ME, I TELL YA!

Settled up the tab, which my loving sister picked up all by herself, and received a surprise gift that she forgot to give me on my birthday! Cool! A whole box of cheddar cheese straws from the HM Thames Nuthouse & Three Georges in Mobile (neat old place—the whole story is here), and the entire season of Bullwinkle in a four DVD box set! Hokie-smokes!! Hard to get much nicer gifts. Those cheese straws are absolutely the best I have ever tasted. And nothing is better for becoming more cultured than watching Rocky and Bullwinkle. You see what it has done for me…

We said our goodbyes then it was time for our next exciting episode--To Go Shopping for Shoes! Come back by in a bit…if you dare.

posted by Terry at 2:10:00 PM

New Asteroid Threat Seen

Well, you know when Aunt Tiny had that problem, we just went to the drugstore and got her one of these.

Hmm? What?

Oh.

Never mind then.

posted by Terry at 1:26:00 PM

There now,

Staff meeting done and my feverish typing of meeting notes is now complete, so it’s time to sit a spell and hear ALLLL about what I did this weekend. Why you want to read this, I have no idea, but here we go.

First up—Soccer. Up at dawn Saturday to get Middle Girl ready for her tournament. They haven’t played a regular conference game yet, but they’re already playing a tournament. Why? Who knows.

Anyway, got me dressed and roused her up and made her a nice breakfast by getting some fruit out of the refrigerator, loaded up her sea bag with spare shoes and socks and her other uniform and a tee shirt and bug spray and sunscreen (which I forgot to use on her), grabbed my ever-so-stylish straw hat and we set out for the other side of the county. Well, almost. I had to stop at the grocery store and stock up on some soft drinks and beef jerky and other assorted snacks and get some cash. THEN it was on the road time. And no, we didn’t take anyone else with us. It’s hard enough to get ONE kid up and dressed and ready to leave on time, much less three others plus a sleepy wife. They stayed behind to do whatever it is they do when I’m gone.

Nice drive, sorta cloudy, through the mess that is Highway 280 (even at 8 a.m. on a Saturday), up Double Oak Mountain, then back down to Soccer Blast. Nice INDOOR soccer place with five or so outdoor fields. Being me, I had forgotten to get the schedule, so I had no idea which field she was supposed to be on so we drove around looking lost until I found the check-in table. Found her field number, then figured out from the crude maps where is actually was, then drove around some more looking for a parking spot. Had I only known, we could have parked right beside her field, but since it was unfamiliar, I just parked at the building and we started hiking. Got to the Porta-Let area beside the access road, staked my claim on a hunk of gravel by setting down all our junk, and waited for everyone else to show up. (That’s one nice thing about not traveling with the entire Possumy Mongol Horde—I get where I need to be ON TIME. Much less stress on the old ticker.)

The other girls started showing up in a few minutes and when enough were there they went out and started warming up so I grabbed up my pile of groceries and my chair and made it on around to the bleachers. Since the bleachers were outside the fence and they had flags and other stuff hung on the fence, the folding chair was just in the way, other than as a way to keep other people from sitting near me.

Not that it helped.

The older sister of one of the girls managed to get beside me and yammered the entire game. And tapped on the bleachers with her cleats. Constantly. And was loud. And insufferably self-absorbed. And talkative. And fidgety. And obnoxious. And loud. AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!! Fat lot of good it did to be nice and calm from getting there early, when it was all undone and my mellow was harshed by some ratchet-jawed adolescent know-it-all. The game was good, though.

They played a team from up around Larry Anderson’s way, the Madison Soccer Club. Good game, and the girls seemed much more at ease on the big field now. They managed to score a nice goal at about the 20th minute, then another at around minute 45. The Madison club stayed uncomfortably close over on our side for most of the first half, but we managed to keep out all of their way-too-high number of shots on goal. The second half we picked up the pace a bit and stayed on their side a bit more, but they played very good defense, and we just couldn’t quite get settled down to make shots. But, a win is still a win, and the girls worked very hard for it.

I figured after is was over we would run over to my mom’s house and see her and my sister, so after we got all of Bec’s stinky clothes off and put her on some regular shoes, we set out. Got there, rang the doorbell, no one home. ::sigh:: And we needed lunch. SO, turn around, back toward the field and we stopped in at McDonald’s for a couple of their new salads. Good stuff—the lettuce and tomatoes were nice and cold and crispy, the chicken nice and hot—just like the ill-fated McDLT. (And actually made from an entire piece of chicken by the looks of it—not something made from chicken splinters). And that handsome Paul Newman fellow gave us some of his very own salad dressing for it! He’s so nice. The salad was good, and more than enough food.

We finished up and went on back to the park, and THIS time, I got to park right by the bleachers. Other girls got there, Rebecca had to completely change her uniform (it pays to have dark tinted van windows, let me tell you) then it was 2:00 and time to play again. They took on the Hoover Phantoms from here in the J.C. (hip new slango for Jefferson County) and it was a much tougher game. Lots of sun and humidity, and the Hoover team was much more physical than the team from the morning. Lots of elbows and knees and ankles and collisions, but not particularly anything unsportsgirllike. Just hard play. We started off with a quick goal, but they came back and scored two more unanswered goals in the first half. You could tell we were starting to drag a bit. Came back out for the second half both teams played tremendously well but along about the 40th minute or so, we got loose on a breakaway and almost had a goal except our girl got tripped up by her defender and fell flat on her face. So, we got a penalty kick and a goal to tie things up again at 2 all. It went back and forth for another 9 minutes or so, we would run, they would run, we would shoot, they would shoot. Terrific playing until the very last minute when we got loose one more time. Our girl got it before midfield and beat two defenders all the way down and scored the winning goal with only seconds to spare. Wonderful job, especially given the conditions.

Rebecca played very well—she mostly stayed at right or center midfield and played with great understanding. She always seemed to be right where she was needed, doing her job without any fuss. She has also gotten VERY fast. She’s hefty, but she has finally gotten just as fast as the little girls, and has incredible leg strength. Good player.

NOW, it’s time for me to got get me some lunch, so when I get back and get it typed up, you’ll get to hear the next chapter—SUPPER!

posted by Terry at 12:09:00 PM

Goodness me!

Already time to put away the straw boater, the white bucs, and the seersucker suit! Time sure gets away from you.

Anyway, before I unload the pile of paragraphs from the weekend, I have our normal post-Labor Day staff meeting to attend, and I have to actually type something to post, and I also have to catch up on what I missed out on doing yesterday.

Check back after while and you will be served fresh, hot new baskets of the same old pixels, including Soccer, Supper, Shoes, Superior Song Leading, Sighs, Suds, Sunday Stuff, Socks, Squirrel (& Moose), Swordplay, Some Ribs, Slumber, and Some Other Stuff.

posted by Terry at 8:32:00 AM

Friday, August 29, 2003

Ohh, a weekend we will go, a weekend we will go...

Gonna be a tough one--Boy has soccer practice tonight, then Bec has two tournament games tomorrow, then my sister is home and wants us all to take our dear old mommy out for her birthday meal tomorrow, and there's church, and there's Labor Day on Monday (which around my house really is a day of incredible physical labor), and all sorts of other stuff that I will be told all about in due time. So, I am already pre-tired. And I still have this nagging pain in my throat, and the headache, and the stiff neck...

Anyway, all of you have a good weekend and holiday, and I'll see you Tuesday.

posted by Terry at 5:09:00 PM

Once again, the mighty Axis of Weevil swallows up another unsuspecting victim...

I was just lounging around doing a bit of welding in my new kilt when Chet the E-Mail Boy very nearly caused me injury as he blasted in the door screaming at the top of his lungs. (He's not that loud, but he has a nasty, rather rattly wheeze.) Chet has been not the least bit busy lately and was greatly excited that a new message had come clicking across his keyset.

It was from Dougal Campbell (of the South Alabama Campbells) who, being now fully dug in to his surroundings, was casting about for inclusion into the Alabama Blog Writing and Monument Carving Association. He wrote:

So, what must one do to be considered a member of the Axis of Weevil? I live in Enterprise, home of the Boll Weevil Monument. Is that good enough? Or must I perform some depraved act of weevilness?

Well, Dougal (and the rest of you, too), the Axis is a fine and upstanding group of folks, and the idea that any of us would countenance any sort of depravity is beyond imagination.

When I was in college, I was once detained for questioning by the police regarding an incident involving goats...

Oh wait, was that TMI?

::thumbing through handy Internet Lingo book:: Three Mile Island? No. Temporomandibular Inflammation? No. Too Much Information? That's it!

But really when you think about it, not enough information! Look, around here, goat incidents and police questioning stemming therefrom aren't that uncommon. Just because you did the same things every other college student does is not necessarily evidence of the high creativity demanded by the rest of the team. And in any event, there ARE rules you know...

Anyhow, please enlighten me on weevil qualifications.

Oh. Okay.

So I quickly scribbled down a response to Dougal on Chet's pad of yellowing Western Union telegram forms and sent him back down to the basement to send them on their speedy electronic way.

I went back to work cleaning my cutting torch and not long Chet fell into the office with Dougal's response--

1) Born in, or now live in, or once lived in, or would like to live in, Alabama;

2) Not ashamed to admit to #1;

Check and check.

3) Staunchly anti-idiotarian, or can at least pretend pretty good

I've always firmly maintained that the average person is an idiot.

Well, a lot of that depends on what the definition of "is" is, now isn't it?

4) Functionally literate

5) Don't type in ALL CAPS or all e.e. cummings case or MiXeD.

6) Update your blog more than once a month

10-4

For the kids in the audience, "10-4" is the number we all used to use before we invented "24/7".

7) Willing to be made fun of

I didn't cry when you asked me not to bend over when I'm wearing a kilt.

I hope that's not some sort of oblique reference to The Crying Game. Anyway, men who wear skirts should never cry, no matter what.

How am I doing?

So far, very well. Just keep standing up straight and you should be fine.

8) Willing to make fun of yourself

Every day.

Well, there's no requirement for frequency, so as long as you're willing, it doesn't have to be every day. Don't want to tire yourself out.

9) Have a framed picture of John Moses Browning

I have some signed copies of Cerebus the Aardvark. Does that count?

Did Cerebus invent the M-1911 pistol? NO! So your going to have to go here and cut you out a picture from your computer screen. (And why would you want an aardvark picture when you could have one of Jaka!?)

10) Personal library must contain more books than you will ever read
I've read most of them, but I'm always buying more.

11) Must be able to recite Monty Python and the Holy Grail and give an episode synopsis of all Andy Griffith shows from memory

I love the one where Opie tells John Cleese about the guy that walks around in the larch trees, and Barney keeps saying "Splunge!" over and over again.

Even better than the one in which Helen Crump is given a sound thrashing with a birch rod by Terry Gilliam.

12) Your pickup truck must be in good working order--use of ether to get it started is not recommended, but will be allowed on a case-by-case basis

My wife drives an Explorer. Does that count?

I don't see why not--once you cut the roof off and take out them back seats, it'll haul just like a regular truck.

SO THEN, it looks like Dougal is MORE than well qualified for inclusion into our august group, so by the power vested in me by the 8 out of 9 members of the Alabama Supreme Court, it is with great passion and pride that we hereby grant unto one Dougal Campbell, writer of geek ramblings, full, complete, permanent, indelible, non-smearing membership in the The Cotton State Free Range Blog Society, also styled as the Axis of Weevil, with all of the benefits and promises of greatness falling thereto.

CONGRATULATIONS, Dougal, and as with all of our new members, you will receive your very own World Famous Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, containing a slab of Dreamland ribs, a gallon jug of Milo's sweet tea; a G-Lox Wedgee gun rack from Mark's Outdoor Sports for your sweetie-pie's Explorer, a package of Bubba's Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County); a three piece, 24 ounce box of Priester's Pecan Logs; a box of Jim Dandy grits; a 16 ounce bottle of Dale's Steak Sauce; AND a six pack of Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale.

As an added bonus, Jimmy (from next door, not Jimmy from Accounting) has once again branched out in his therapeutic line of handmade crafts--as you know, he has gone from Kool Sealing trailer roofs, to painting rocks, to handpainted stationery, but his newest line is the Ten Commandments lovingly engraved in a variety of clean-smelling and vigorous soaps for your bath.

All of these valuable gifts will be heading your way sometime within the next couple of days, although since Monday is a holiday, Lurdean is not wanting to have to go anywhere and make delivers. Anyway, we'll work it out somehow.

posted by Terry at 4:59:00 PM

Principal breaks 'ugly' school windows

The Associated Press
8/29/2003, 12:40 p.m. CT

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (AP) -- An elementary school principal frustrated with the aging condition of 49 windows at her school smashed them herself in hopes of getting replacements.

Dianne Gilbert got her wish, but she will end up paying $830.12 of her own money for the repairs at Caldwell Elementary School.

"They needed to be replaced," Gilbert said. "There's not another school in Nashville where the windows are cracked, filled with silicone, taped over and covered with pockmarked green-and-yellow Plexiglas.

"I had had enough with the state of repairs."

Gilbert, who has been principal at Caldwell for eight years, immediately e-mailed the maintenance department to tell them what she had done, voice her frustration and offer to pay for the damage.

The school had been undergoing a summer-long renovation when Gilbert broke out the windows, which weren't expected to be replaced as part of the project.

Nashville Schools Director Pedro Garcia said no legal action was taken against Gilbert and no record of the incident was listed in her personnel file. The only punishment Gilbert received was paying for the damages and a verbal reprimand.

"I think what happened was we were replacing windows because it was part of finishing that building, and those windows were dirty and ugly," Garcia said. "For whatever reason, she did not think they were going to be replaced, so she took it upon herself to break them."

If a student had broken the windows, the child could have faced criminal vandalism charges as well as suspension or expulsion.

Well, a kid probably wouldn't have a teacher's union and tenure, either.

(Probably working with about the same level of intelligence, though.)

posted by Terry at 3:00:00 PM

It's Almost Fatal Just READING About It.

Ouch.

posted by Terry at 2:45:00 PM

What It Was, Was FOOTBALL!!

With the autumn sky ablaze with the brilliant colors of changing leaves and waving pennants; the crisp air filled with the smells of hamburgers and popcorn and the sounds of cheering and brass bands, it can only mean one thing...that's right, Wal-Mart already has their Christmas stuff out for sale!!

AND it means FOOTBALL SEASON! AND not just football season, but time for the ferocious Auburn Tigers to take the field!

The Plainsmen have been talked-up a great deal this year, predicted to win the Western Division of the SEC, along with the SEC title, and then the really stupid guys at The Sporting News ruined our chances for any sort of success by predicting we would wind up the season at Number One. As it stands, the AP has positioned the team in a bit more realistic berth at 6th place, which gives some breathing room.

The Tigers look relatively strong this year, with 18 starters returning, although the loss of sophomore offensive lineman Taylor Bourgeois is bound to be a detriment. Troy Reddick, another sophomore of equal tallness and girth, shares duty at the weak-side guard position with Bourgeois, and might be slotted in his place.

Biggest hoss of the team is sophomore offensive tackle Marcus McNeill of Decatur, GA, tipping the balance at 322 and scraping the ceiling at 6'-9". Tiniest Tiger honors belong to kicker John White, a junior from Midlothian, VA who at 5'-7" and 143 pounds is too small for a picture OR a jersey number.

The Tigers' foes for their first game of the season (Saturday, 5 pm Central, CBS, with lead reporter Jill Arrington) will be the 9th ranked Trojans from the University of Southern California. Despite being named after a brand of male contraceptive devices, and having a man in a dress as a mascot, the Trojans beat the tar out of the Tigers at the opener last year out in the depressing, smog-filled LaLa Land. This year the Ancient Warriors might have their hands full when they reach the sweet-smelling and verdant plains of east Alabama. (No jokes about having their hands full of cow poop, please.)

Although ranked a bit lower, So Cal is still a very strong team with a lot of young talent, but of even more worry to the Tigers is their incredibly strong lineup of Song Leaders. This is what USC calls their cheerleaders, despite the fact that they do not sing nor carry any sort of karaoke machinery.

In any event, this is one area where Auburn has usually held a relatively strong lead over rivals, but it appears that the Trojan's webmaster has been hard at work in the off season and come up with a exciting and handsome layout for the girls. They have their own page with a photo of the entire squad (and PLEASE notice that there are no guys in the picture), as well as individual pages for each of the young ladies. Such as Lindsey, a Business major who is hot and whose favorite movie is Dumb and Dumber, favorite book is Love In a Time of Cholera, and favorite TV shows are Friends and Sex and the City! And then there's Michelle, a junior in communications from Fresno, CA whose hobbies include reading, going to church, and spending time in the sun--one reason why she is hot.

Nice looking bunch of kids, but when you look over at the Auburn crew and do a comparison, you see some potential pitfalls--still a good looking bunch, but there are all sorts of guys in the picture. This is bad. And there are no individual pictures--with the guys, this is no problem, but they need some for the girls. Finally, the actual cheerleader website appears to have been done by someone whose only exposure to the Web is the stack of AOL 8.0 discs he found in a dumpster. If they keep this up all season, I don't know what will become of us.

Anyway, to wrap it all up here at Possumblog Sports Center, I have asked our Chief Statistician Ipsa Dixie to give us her scientific prediction. However, being that she is not speaking to me at the moment (other than the stream of invective and obscene hand gestures wholly unrelated to the game) due to the toaster oven incident, it makes it difficult to discern what she might have come up with. I did go by and rummage through her pencil drawer, where I found a slip of paper upon which it appeared she was predicting a score of Auburn 21--USC 17, although it's a bit hard to read. It might say Auburn 0--USC 23. Nah, that COULDN'T be right.

So there you go.

posted by Terry at 2:26:00 PM

And once more on the hometown front...

Jim Smith over at Unfreezing was shocked on Tuesday to see that I had let go an opportunity last week to make mention of this article from The Birmingham News about the proposed dredging of portions of the mighty Cahaba River and its tributary, seething, roiling Pinchgut Creek.

Professor Smith opines thusly:

[...] Trussville's mayor wants to dredge these two main waterways. The stated cause is flooding but I think other things are going on. If Alabama could pass a law, like in Mississippi, to allow riverboat gaming, then Trussville would be set. Ah, casinos on the Pinchgut. The Pinchgut Palace Casino. What a thought, all we need now is the ability to get the things in there.

Well, that may be less a function of statute than stature.

Seeing as how even the most geezerly and feeble old man could easily send an arc of pee from bank to bank, fitting a full-sized riverboat between the shores would be something more difficult than even getting a permit from ADEM or the Corps to dredge the creek. The Cahaba is a bit wider. However, the gaming experience might have to be limited to a canoe.

Also, as I was reading the article, I wondered when silt became siltation.

Jim refers to the sentence in the article reading:

Under the agreement, Trussville would provide the track hoe and operator for the dredging, while Jefferson County Roads and Transportation would provide dump trucks and drivers to haul the siltation away.

Well, you see, by removing the process of silt accumulation ("siltation") you eliminate any further silt buildup! It is a very clever way to deal with the problem. Just get that whole siltation deal up in a truck and put it in a landfill, where it will automatically siltate to fill in the hole.

Either that, or the reporter gets paid by the letter.

posted by Terry at 11:50:00 AM

Birmingham, Birmingham--Greatest City in Alabam'

Candidates target city blight, apathy, negative attitudes

As if we don't have a negative enough image among folks from beyond our borders, we seem determined to enhance it as much as possible.

It's really not a bad place here at the foot of Red Mountain--could be better, but then again, what couldn't (aside from Trussville, obviously). But that kind of talk won't get you elected. Of course, it doesn't help attract new people and businesses to a place you describe as a crime-ridden, broken down, blighted, illiterate, poor, and apathetic, so you're probably not doing the folks who live here any favors.

posted by Terry at 10:40:00 AM

Good Morning!

My, aren't you all looking chipper today! Hmm? What's that? Why yes, I am about to fall under my desk and go to sleep--thank you for noticing!

Long day yesterday. The cont. ed. seminar was pretty good--it was held down the street at the Southeastern Conference headquarters building, and there was a nice box lunch with a sandwich, pasta salad, a pickle, a cookie and a drink. Yumm. Saw a bunch of folks I haven't seen in a while, including several I graduated with--Prissy Boy, Mullet Dude, Mike the Aging Hippie, and an even larger number of current and former employees of The Bad Place. (Many times more former employees, by the way.)

The fire marshal was from the City of Fairfield, one of the smaller cities next door to Birmingham, and he had some good comments. Building codes are funny things--there is a huge effort that goes into continually upgrading them with the results of new research and testing, but it's rare that cities likewise continue to adopt the latest version. For folks working in a place like Jefferson County, you have to be very conscious that every incorporated entity is more than likely going to have adopted something different. Even though they may say they've adopted one of the standard codes, it could still be the 1994 Edition. Or the 1988. Jefferson County has 33 separate municipalities, plus the county government. Most use some variation on the Standard Building Code, but few use the latest version, and none have adopted the new International Building Code, which is the result of the merger of all the former competing building code publishers across the U.S. Aside from those codes are the entity-specific standards for folks like the Federal government, the military, and the postal service.

The kicker is that even though the city has adopted a particular code edition, it is still up to the city building official and the city fire marshal to interpret and enforce those codes, and they generally have the authority to modify those requirements with further changes as they see fit. Some officials are more interested in protecting the public, others are more interested in showing who's in charge. SO, the best advice he had was to check first before you get going. Hard to believe we don't do that already, but the 'local interpretation' clause has bitten more than one architect. Sadly, there are those of my professional brethren for whom every project is their first. (You know people like this--give them something to do, and no matter how many times they've done it, they still make the same mistakes.) ::sigh::

After the fire marshal was the guy from the International Code Council. He used to work here in our department before moving on to the Southern Building Code Congress International, which is the long fancy name of what was one of the grandaddy code-writing groups around the country, which produced the Standard Building Code. The other groups writing codes were Building Officials and Code Administrators (BOCA) and the International Congress of Building Officials (ICBO). As I mentioned, all three of these groups merged with the intent of regularizing, coordinating, and streamlining building codes to cut down on the amount of conflict and confusion within the building professions and among product suppliers. They no longer publish updates to their old codes, which means that if a city or state wants to update its building code, they will eventually have to adopt the new IBC. It is step in the right direction, but there will still be a problem of one city having maybe the 2001 edition, while the one next door will adopt the 2006. The International folks have tried to lobby for adopting agencies to attach language to their ordinances which automatically adopt the newest versions of the code as it is released, but I'm not sure how much success they've had.

Anyway, the ICC Guy talked about fire alarms and sprinklers as they are handled under the new codes. Although he is a big, boisterous, animated sort of guy--tiny little esoteric changes from one version of code to another can be bit on the tedious side and cause you to nod off.

Much like you're doing now.

Don't feel bad, I'm bored, too.

He brought along a couple of brochures of all their spiffy products--probably the most useful thing in there for foks working around here is a book titled, Jobsite Phrasebook, written by Kent Shephard-- "Improve communication on your jobsite with the handy new Jobsite Phrasebook, English-Spanish. This handbook is filled with Spanish translations and pronunciations for common jobsite phrases in the most heavily populated Hispanic construction fields: concrete, framing, drywall, and roofing." Hard to beat at 23 bucks.

ICC Guy had to keep talking for a while, which he was more than happy to do, due to the rep from the fire extinguisher place not showing up. A break, and then it was time for the Mohawk door guy, who was a very entertaining older Yankee fellow. And sweaty. Reminded me a lot of Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker. As with everyone else who sells stuff, he had the requisite product binders full of info, and his very own white cotton terrycloth sweatbands. Cool. I didn't get one, though, although at the end of his speech on testing methods for fire doors, he did put one on his own head.

He also gave out samples of intumescent fire door seals. These look like rubber gaskets, but they have magical foamy material inside that expands to seal off the door when fire hits it. The kind they use is a fast-react sort that when the temp hits about 300 real, Fahrenheit, degrees, it Jiffi-Pops to about twenty times its compressed size. Can't wait to get a lighter and try it out.

And then, that was it. Only 6 1/2 more hours to go by the end of September, and I'll be nice and legal for another year.

AFTER THAT, I walked back here for a bit to check on stuff, then it was off to the house for a five minute meal with the family, then over to the City Hall in Exile for our local Board of Zoning Adjustment meeting. The city of Trussville had to move everything out of City Hall due to the floods from earlier this year--the fire department moved to the two other stations, the police department moved to the old junior high, City Hall itself moved to the Community Center, then all of the other boards and stuff met where they could--we are meeting in the Heritage Hall, which is a small meeting room that's part of the Chamber of Commerce and which also serves as the green room for the community theater. They say we can move back into City Hall by next month--we'll see.

Anyway, if you ever have grumped and complained about such boards and agencies, you ought to at least go to the meetings to find out how they work, or better yet, find a way to get appointed to one. It's a good way to get to meet your neighbors and get them all mad at YOU for a change (hasn't happened to me yet--last night was mainly just folks wanting exceptions to allow them to run their business out of their home) but more importantly, it's just very American.

You know, I complain about dumb stuff in government all the time, but in the end I at least have some sense that I am the one to blame if it's not going right. Nothing irks me more than some sanctimonious foreign schmutz prattling that while he hates the U.S. government, he really loves the Amrikan pipple. Actually, the one thing that irks me more are Americans saying the same thing.

Up yours, dudes. It's all one and the same.

Hard to believe a fellow could get all hot just because he got to sit at a table in some small town meeting, but there you go.

Got finished up pretty quickly, then ran to the park to meet Reba who had brought Middle Girl for her soccer practice, jabbered with the parents some, then sat in my folding chair and read and swatted West Nile virus vectors. Every time I get a headache or sleep funny so that my neck is stiff, I swear I'm coming down with West Nile. And I've got this scratchy throat...

Home late, check homework, get some of the kids in bed, get Oldest an article off the Internet about the London blackout for one of her classes, read some more, nodded off several times, bothered the wife some, got the rest of the kids in bed, and finally could stay awake no more. And then came here, where staying awake is still VERY HARD.

posted by Terry at 10:11:00 AM

Thursday, August 28, 2003

What a day

Lot o’stuff in the news yesterday, and here I was stuck with no Internet having to do actual work. Oh well.

In case you’re wondering how I got up my single post from yesterday, I copied it onto a disc and took it over to the Regional Library Computer Center, which is a room full of pretty machines over on the third floor of the Linn-Henley Research Library over across the park. The Linn-Henley used to be Birmingham’s central library building, until a new facility was built across the street in 1984. This is what it looked like when it was built in 1927, and this is what it looks like today with the new building in the background. Pretty cool place, and the short walk over was a nice way to catch up with our wonderful group of urban campers making themselves at home on the park benches. Looked like we had a good crowd yesterday of approximately 30 men, highlighted by one who felt moved by the urge to remove his shirt to show us all his prodigious belly and saggy chest. Thanks, guy!

At least I was able to get part of my stuff done. UNFORTUNATELY—I will not get to play anymore today, either. I have a continuing education seminar to attend starting at 11:30 that runs all day, so I have to put my shoulder to the wheel, my nose to the grindstone, my hand to the plow and lift that barge and tote that bale and sit here and type. Whee.

At least the topics for the seminar sound interesting— during lunch, the city fire marshal will be discussing buildings and fire safety, then from 1:00-2:00 a fellow from the Birmingham office of the International Code Council will be chatting us up about sprinklers and fire alarms, then from 2:00-3:00 will be a presentation from the fine folks at Amerex (world headquarters in the lovely hamlet of Trussville) to talk about fire extinguishers, and then the final hour from 3:00-4:00 will be wrapped up by a rep from Mohawk talking about the exciting topic of fire door testing.

I have to do 12 hours a year of stuff like this to maintain my registration—8 hours of which has to be directly related to health, safety and welfare topics, and 8 hours of which must be done in a structured setting with an instructor. As always, I tend to wait until time to renew to start scrambling around for hours—so far this year I have only done 1.5, which was the fun time I had back in December of last year with the moron talking about laminated lumber. (I am also a licensed procrastinator.)

So, no play time for me today.

Tomorrow, on the other hand, will be jam packed with capriciousness, and FOOTBALL!! And not that silly European crapola, but REAL football! The Possumblog Sports Center is cranking back up, and Possumblog’s Sports Statistician Ipsa Dixie is once again back at her desk in all of her redheaded, vivacious (or vicious, depending on whether one of the male staff made her uncomfortable in the workplace) glory with tale of the tape on the Auburn Tigers and their August 30 foes, the University of Southern California, with their Man in a Skirt on a Pretty Horsie Mascot.

Until then, then.

OH WAIT!! Speaking of manliness and evening gowns, Dougal Campbell left us a note down in the comments below and I didn't want any of you to miss it.

[...] The Alabama Highland Games are coming up next month.

http://www.alabamahighlandgames.com/

This year's honored clan is Clan Campbell, so expect to see me marching on the field

Thanks, Dougal! Our, well, MY only request is that you not bend over.

For those of you out of the Scots loop, the Highland Games consist of several competitions, including piping, dancing, riot, mayhem, and the traditional athletic competitions of:

The Clachneart or "Stone of Strength" (similar to shot put, but done with a stone and a pint)

The 28 and 56 Pound Throw (thrown using steelyard weights on a chain and a pint)

The Scottish Hammer (a twenty two pound hammer thrown for distance--some contestants wear spiked shoes in addition to carrying a pint)

The Sheaf Toss (hurling of a twenty pound bag of straw over a crossbar using a pitchfork and a pint)

The 56 Pound Weight Toss (not the same as the 56 Pound Throw, in that this one is attached to a handle then flung over a cross bar--pint is still included, however)

And finally, The Caber Toss (130 pound tree trunk tossed so that it turns end over end--requires such incredible strength and concentration that a bystander is usually asked to hold the pint until the toss is completed).

Glad to be of assistance in giving you all some culture--you may now return to your regular blogreading schedule.

posted by Terry at 9:22:00 AM

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Experts: Put kids in back seat of car

Well, okay, if you say so...but I gotta wonder how they’re going to reach the steering wheel and pedals when Daddy’s all passed out down in the floorboard.

~~GOOD MORNING!!~~ ~~GOOD DAY!!~~ ~~GOOD AFTERNOON!!~~ WHATEVER!! What a fun and educational meeting (but I’m being redundant, now aren’t I!?) I had this morning. Actually, these little exercises aren't that bad, but it's just so ‘me’ to complain about meaningless stuff.

Such as, say, our Internet connection being down ~~half an hour~~, ~~an hour~~, ~~two hours~~, ~~all morning~~, ALL FLIPPING DAY leading to this little blurb not getting posted until ~~now~~, ~~this afternoon~~ WHENEVER. The guy from downstairs tells me that they pulled the plug to keep the Mr. Fixit worm from getting in. (The one somebody unleashed after the last malicious worm, to go around and try to fix the holes but which wound up being worse than the original. Road to hell and all…) If any of you have been desperate to contact me, and are puzzled as to why I have not been my usual prompt self in answering or thought maybe Chet the E-Mail Boy had kicked the bucket, well, this is why.

And then there was the mysterious “Wizards of Redmond Anger-Inducing Error”, which shut down my computer entirely—working along happily, click, fade to black, then a nice helpful blue screen with red and white ASCII text from back in the Olden Days, informing me of some sort of foul distemper and imbalance of humours which had gripped my machine, and recommending that I chant the otherworldly “Ctrlaltdel” incantation. Or just try to keep working. Whatever pleased me more.

I hit the Any Key, and was dumped back out into the Forest of Word, which had been clearcut and otherwise rendered unusable. I carefully read the entire Windows Operating Manual, then hit the power switch. The computer guys tell me not to do this, as it really screws everything up on their network. Whatever. “Turn it off, turn it back on again” works 99% of the time. Which is actually an order of magnitude more reliable than the operating system. According To The Guy Downstairs, I am in for a vigorous upgrading tomorrow in which I will receive the wondrous Windows 2000. I can barely wait.

Even though at the moment I have an operational computer, it’s been very hard to do without the Internet. I really like having some connection to the outside world, virtual though it may be. Otherwise, I have to interact with the real live people here, and a high percentage of them are Insane-Americans. Which makes that interaction somewhat less than rewarding.

Anyway, I really need not to worry so much about that and exercise my carpal tunnels by typing up the thrilling and thought-provoking minutes. I’ll check in with you ~~in a bit~~ ~~after while~~ ~~later~~ ~~much later~~ tomorrow?

If I’m not passed out.

posted by Terry at 1:50:00 PM

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Tomorrow

...is either the second or the fourth Wednesday of the month. Meaning that I will be in before 7 for my twice-monthly duty manning the regulatory thumbscrews to insure the built environment remains pretty and pleasant.

So, expect the normal low quality bloggage, BUT with the added benefit of low quantity!

BUT WAIT!! A newfound toy which will be valuable for spending HOURS of time--Library of Congress to show new cartoons

By CARL HARTMAN
The Associated Press
8/26/2003, 4:20 p.m. CT

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Library of Congress offered a glimpse Tuesday of its new acquisition of 36,000 cartoons — three centuries' worth of drawings that ranged in theme from comic to political, and social to cinematic.

The drawings, which were acquired from collector and former cartoonist Art Wood, will more than double the library's holdings of cartoons. Library officials gave reporters on Tuesday a sneak peek of some of the new drawings, and the collection will be open to the public in 2005.

Wood drew cartoons for the Richmond News Leader and the Pittsburgh Press. He grew up in the Washington area and kept his collection in the cellar of his home in suburban Washington.

Among his treasures is a color transparency from Walt Disney's first full-length animated feature from 1937, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," and a rare 1921 drawing by Elzie Segar of "Olive Oyl" — a decade before he created her friend "Popeye."

There's a 150-year-old satirical drawing by British artist George Cruikshank on the evils of drink, one by Richard Outcault of "The Yellow Kid," grandfather of all comic strips, and a fantastic voting machine rendered by Rube Goldberg.

A drawing by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec was not shown.

"Obscene," explained curator Sara Duke, briefly. [...]

Indeed. Although there is "Uncle Sam's Girl-Shower", which seems awfully racy.

Anyway, the rest of the collection sampler can be accessed here.

posted by Terry at 4:02:00 PM

Well, when the news is slow…

What better way to pass the time than a selection from the 1901 Edition of Everybody’s Writing-Desk Book! As I have mentioned previously, these little extractions have gotten less frequent due to the fact that the book, although full of good advice, is still a finite resource. I am going to have to bring in something else to quote from, I believe, but until then, let’s see what Messrs. Nisbet and Lemon have to say about:

The Parts of a Sentence Should Harmonize.—That the different parts of any writing may be all congruous with one another, and even the boldest ‘figure’ extravagant, the whole must throughout be strictly subservient to the purpose in view, and the energy in any one part be duly correlated with the energy in all other parts. The writing on any one subject should be, in manner as well as in matter, all one creation, each part sustaining and complementing the others, and no part so silent or ‘ornamental’ as to obscure any other or divert to itself any of the attention due to the whole. Or, as the professor advised his students, whenever on reperusal you come on any particularly eloquent passage, out with it. If Memnon and the rising sun figure in the report of modern Egypt under British administration, the rest must be of the same texture. Else all the world that reads the report will point its finger at the patch.

Alteration of Plan.—If in the course of writing the writer’s appreciation of his subject undergo essential alteration, then will the new and the old matter be no longer reconcilable. In such case, if the whole writing is to be coherent, all the old matter must be rewritten in accordance with the new views.

When a literary work is protracted throughout a long period, so that in the latter part thereof the author is a man considerably older than he was at its start, the likelihood is that the change wrought by years in the man will be reflected in his work, and so far mar its unity. An instance of such phenomenon is Goethe’s Faust, which reflects the whole of Goethe’s literary life. The youthful and the aged Goethe there stand side by side in marked contrast—the active, passionate man in the first part; the contemplative, artistic man in the second. Goethe in advanced years contemplated the First Part comparatively aloof, the Second Part with immediate appreciation. The young world, on the other hand, inclines all to the errant Faust of the First Part, and regards the chastened Faust of the Second—at a respectful distance.

posted by Terry at 1:51:00 PM

News from good old Alabama Polytechnic Institute: The Cullars Rotation

A neat story--well, it is to me, at least--about a soil experiment that has been going on at Auburn University for 92 years. The field where the experiment has been conducted has just been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. (The world's oldest crop rotation experiment is the nearby "Old Rotation", which started in 1896. It's on the Register, too.)

posted by Terry at 12:45:00 PM

Miss Janis is home now and blogging again--keywords include pernicious, Spanish, split bottoms, Bishop, slap me, and broken glass!

Do go tell her hello.

posted by Terry at 12:16:00 PM

How very odd--Chinese union body pressuring Wal-Mart to establish trade unions

BEIJING (AP) -- China's government-controlled union body is pressuring Wal-Mart to establish trade unions for thousands of its employees, the official Xinhua News Agency said.

The All-China Federation of Trade Unions says Wal-Mart Stores Inc., the world's biggest retailer, has not set up trade unions in any of its branches in China, leaving workers without protection of their legal rights, Xinhua said.

"The best way to protect workers' rights is to sign group contracts with employers through trade unions, which can protect workers' rights involving wage negotiation, vacations, and discharge regulations," Feng Lijun, a Beijing ACFTU official was quoted as saying Sunday by Xinhua.

Arkansas-based Wal-Mart opened its first outlet in Beijing in July, adding to its list of 22 other stores in the country.

Feng said the organization has contacted Wal-Mart several times since its Beijing stores opened but "no progress has been made in establishing trade unions." [...]

Somehow, the idea of a Beijing Wal-Mart is just beyond my comprehension, not to mention that it's just one of 22 other ones in the country. But it's so nice that the Chinese are concerned about the folks who work there:

The All-China Federation of Trade Unions is the only group China's communist government allows to organize workers. Unions do exist, but they are controlled by the government, and those who start independent organizations are routinely arrested and sometimes given harsh sentences as a warning to others.

Nice people, eh?

posted by Terry at 10:15:00 AM

Believe it or not, bagpipes are loud--Bagpipes hit sour note for hearing

FOR many a Scots regiment, the Highland bagpipe was as potent in the advance toward battle as artillery and rifles.

But a survey conducted by Piper & Drummer magazine has revealed the resonating force of the pipes can damage more than the morale of enemy troops.

Half of those surveyed reported hearing loss and repetitive strain injuries after years of playing.

Well, as they say, "Than' Gad there's nae smell."

Some 10 per cent also reported that their passion for the pipes had led to the break-up of marriages, while 84 per cent claimed to know pipe-band members who are alcoholics. [...]

You know, it seems odd that a loud, deaf, cripple-handed, drunken man in a dress would ever have troubles at home...

James Bousquet, an acoustics expert and bagpiper, said many band members ignored his advice to wear customised ear plugs at a cost of £60 per pair.

Mr Bousquet said: "Sounds don't have to be uncomfortably loud to be damaging. If pipers think hearing protection is too expensive, they should consider what they pay for a new pair of ghillie brogues and ask themselves what is worth more." [...]

60 quid'll buy a lot of Guinness.

Almost enough to last a whole day.

(And as an added bonus--The Bagpipe Joke List!)

posted by Terry at 9:42:00 AM

For all you trivia buffs--

On August 26, 1791, John Fitch was granted a United States patent for the steamboat. Four years earlier, on August 22, 1787, Fitch demonstrated the first successful steamboat, launching a forty-five-foot craft on the Delaware River in the presence of delegates from the Constitutional Convention. He went on to build a larger steamboat which carried passengers and freight between Philadelphia and Burlington, New Jersey.

Fitch was granted his patent after a battle with James Rumsey over claims to the invention. [...]

Steam power is just as important today and, in fact, powers this blog.

posted by Terry at 8:45:00 AM

From the "Headlines Which Defy All Attempts at Parody" File: Mike Tyson Offers Empathy for NBA Star Kobe Bryant

What's next, O.J. offering tips on shopping for gloves?

posted by Terry at 8:10:00 AM

Monday, August 25, 2003

Come with us now for a Thrilling Tour of Paradise Along the Pinchgut!

Good weekend—lots of dirt and sweat and hollering and tools and stuff. Bear with me.

But even before we get into all of that, I was reminded yesterday at lunch by Middle Girl of something funny she said last week. Seeing as how this blog is fast becoming my substitute for memory, I figure I best write it down. (Part of the problem is being so harried in the mornings—anything that happens prior to letting the kids out at school every day seems to get washed away quickly by the sudden drop in adrenaline level.)

Anyway, we had to go get Reba’s mom and dad’s mail last week while they were on vacation and as we drove into their neighborhood, we saw that one of the homeowners had been visited by one of the first signs of autumn, a yard full of toilet paper.

(For those gentle readers who visit Possumblog from other parts of the globe, the festooning of trees and homes with rolls of toilet paper has a long and fascinating history in this country, and at least when I was a lad, signified that someone, somewhere, really hated your guts. So much so that they would strew paper all over you mom and dad’s trees, which is just asking for it, you know. It seems to pick up when school starts as old rivalries kick in again. Times seem to have changed, though—I was told recently by a young lady that having your yard rolled was a sign that you were really cool. Go figure.)

In any event—huge, towering, mature trees, full of paper. Poor homeowner guy out there with his wife and kid trying to get some of it down.

By lighting it.

That’s right. Setting it on FIRE. Little tendrils of flame wound up into the tree branches and I could barely keep from running off the road in dismay. “Look kids! That guy’s trying to set the whole NEIGHBORHOOD ON FIRE!” The kinder were quite taken by the display, and Rebecca noted quite correctly that this seemed to be a rather dangerous endeavor to undertake.

“They need a monkey!”

I don’t know if it was the bright, self-assured, way she said it, or the idea of a panicky spider monkey spreading flaming toilet paper throughout an entire heavily-wooded subdivision, but I got to laughing and couldn’t quit. I chuckled all the way from there to school, and making Daddy laugh really seemed to make her day. I’m a tough audience, you know—stern, foreboding. But, it’s like I always tell the kids, “Dying is easy—COMEDY is hard.” They need good, solid, preparation.

She seems to have learned well, though, that uncontrolled conflagration and lower primates just go great together . (She even managed to work in the hard-K sound that is the staple of all great komedy.)

Nicely played.

And then I completely forgot about it until yesterday when we were eating lunch after church and she mentioned it again. “Remember what I said? Tell Mama what I said.” Blank look from me. “You know, Dad…when we were on the way to school last week.” Still blank look from me. “And we had to go get Grandmama and Grandaddy’s mail.” Still a blank look. “And the man was lighting the toilet paper? And we said he shouldn’t be doing that?” OH, yeah, I remember that…but I don’t remember what you said. “DAAaaaaad—I said he needed a monkey!?”

Oh yeah! And I started giggling all over again. A monkey! Heh. I need a monkey too, you know. One to write stuff down for me on little scraps of toilet paper so I won’t forget.

ANYWAY, Friday night was soccer night, and Rebecca was supposed to be there at six, which is exactly the time that Reba got to the house, so I ran screaming out the door with Middle Girl’s bag and Jonathan’s bag and told them to jump into my van and we spent a nice ten minutes together in the Runaway Mine Car ride to the park. As they changed clothes. We were late, obviously, but the game had not started so she didn’t miss anything. And the ride itself was thrilling and terrifying.

Turned out to be tougher than I thought it was going to be when I wrote about it last week—this was the first time the girls had played on the regulation-size field, and the first time with eleven players—practice has always been on a sliver of a shared field and broken up into small groups. And the boys they were playing had five subs, while the girls only have one extra player. SO, I don’t suppose that it was too surprising the lads got in two quick goals right off. And then another. But, the girls kept in it, scored a goal themselves, and then dominated the second half. No scores for either during the second, but the girls managed to look very poised toward the end, while the boys were getting ragged and going for the histrionics of dramatic slides and leaps and general falling and flopping about on the ground. There are about four of the girls who have incredible footwork skills and it was fun to watch them zipping around—especially Bathmat Dad’s daughter, who even at eleven years old, has The Look when she plays. Balanced and smooth and confident—a natural athlete. She’s going to be something in a couple of years.

(Bathmat Dad gets his name from the fact that he ALWAYS wears shorts and a tee-shirt with the armholes cut out to his waist, so that we all get a nice view of his sweaty, deeply-burnt skin; which is actually only barely visible, obscured as it is by his plush covering of Brillo Pad body hair. He too, has The Look, but an entirely different one. And even though I refer to him as Bathmat Dad, I would not for a moment even THINK of touching any part of him with my feet. Eww.)

While they finished up, Jonathan’s practice started and thankfully was on an adjacent field, so I just turned my lazy self around and watched him after Rebecca’s game was over. It appears he is going to have another long season—since he’s not that great of a player, he naturally gets stuck on a team with others of equal skill. But, their skill level has much less to do with physical ability than mental. I don’t think I have ever seen a group more needing of either a) massive doses of Thorazine, b) a daily appointment time at the woodshed, or c) both. The coach seems to be a good guy, but the kids have the attention span that can be measured in microseconds. Poor Jonathan tries to listen and do what the coach says and everyone else is acting like they should be confined to straitjackets. The parents seem glad to allow someone else to try and control them for a while. ::sigh::

They got finished up after 8:30 and we stopped off at Sonic for them to get something to eat. Neither one had been able to eat supper before we went careering off to the park, and they were both hot, and doggone it, every once in a while it’s nice to have your dad give you a forbidden late-night ice cream sundae. (Especially when he wants to try some of it.)

Off home, then off with their stinky clothes and into the tub, and then to bed for everyone, and then it was time to get up. BLESSEDLY, Mom and Dad got to sleep in a bit Saturday morning—no phone calls, no weird dreams of phone calls, no mayhem in the corridors. ‘Bout time, I say!

Up then, and I got on my yard-tending clothes and ate a couple of Miss Reba’s muffins and watched a little “Crocodile Hunter” and a little news and got started. First up, more hummingbird juice, then filled the bird feeders, then got out the ol’ Oracle of Murray for some spirited laps around the yard and noisy meditation. Nothing quite like the combination of high heat, humidity, physical exertion, and carbon monoxide to really clear the mind. Or confuse you more.

As always, I spent a good deal of time arguing with myself (occasionally even doing this silently in my mind, so as not to arouse too much suspicion) about the world. My conclusion is that there sure is a lot of stupidity out there. Best to avoid it.

Yep, that’s it.

Stay away from stupid people, don’t congregate with them on street corners, avoid eye contact with them and if that’s not possible, nod politely and run away as soon as you can. And don’t try to argue with them—if you do, that makes you just as stupid. Which is probably the best advice—don’t be stupid yourself. If people are always saying you’re stupid, it’s probably a pretty good indication that you are, and that you need to change and not be so stupid. If you are around a lot of people who act stupid, and you decide to hang around for a while, you’re stupid, so you need to quit that. If you think someone has mistaken you for a stupid person, and the best you can say is, “am not, am not!”, well, you’re probably stupid.

So, there you go. Worth exactly what it cost you to get in the door.

In my many circumlocomotions, I also found a great treasure in our flower bed—a worn-out lawnmower blade, a brand new blade puller, and brand new Craftsman 12 inch adjustable wrench. Right out there in the open, left by the lawnmower repair fairies (who have names like Bud and Ed). Well, well, a nice new wrench for ME! You leave it in my yard and it’s MINE, bucko. Especially when you leave it with all your discarded cardboard and plastic bagging! Kept on cutting until my next-door neighbor’s middle-aged son came home and asked him if he had lost a wrench. Finally figured out it was his brother who had left all the junk out there. So I gave him his wrench and blade puller back. You didn’t really think I was going to keep it, did you?

Finished up, then went to Marvin’s down at the foot of the hill for some weed killing chemicals. I have given up on finding the stuff that kills nutgrass, but I figured I had better find something because everything else is about to take over what’s not already taken over by nutgrass. Got back quickly—they had a new cashier whose idea of conversation was rudimentary at best, and she was not able to fall back on being young and blonde. Hooked up the sprayer and carefully poured in the prescribed amount of liquid destruction and after taking a big swig for myself, set about to spray everything down. Finished that and then it was time to get ready to go to the store.

Reba had mentioned several times during the day that there was a wonderful sale going on at the High-Priced Purveyor of Moderate-Quality Goods, but by the time I finished all my stuff, she was worn to a frazzle by the combined effects of laundry and naughty little children. So, Wal-Mart. Of course!

But first, kids in the tub, heads scrubbed, hair dried, then Mom and Dad similarly cleansed, and it was off to shop. BUT FIRST, we got some grub at Bennigan’s. Despite my ongoing hate affair with this place, I decided to stop in anyway because it was close and I was hungry. This time, the service was good, the waitress was professional, and the food was good and hot. First time we’ve ever hit the Trifecta like that. (For Jim Smith’s benefit, I had the smothered chicken—served with onions, mushrooms, Swiss cheese, bacon, and a tiny little pillow over the bird’s head. I have never like the idea of eating anything smothered—it just sounds like a bad way to go.)

Got out of there and rolled over to Pappy Walton’s and spent the next three hours wandering around. Reba and Ashley and Rebecca stayed over in the clothes, while Jonathan and Catherine and I looked at fish, shampoo, bug killer, Japanese beetle traps, the bathroom, DVDs (I got The Great Escape with Steve McQueen. Incredible movie, although I’ve only seen it little. That Steve McQueen guy was cool—none like him today), video games, toilet paper (we need a monkey…::chuckling lightly::), various snack foods, bathroom, car stuff, books, bathroom, then back to the books again before we were finally summoned to go check out. Wow. That’s some expensive stuff, whatever it was. (But at least we were helping out the economy, according to this story.)

Home, bed, up, breakfast, church, lunch, monkey talk, home, read paper, doze fitfully while slobbering on the couch, back to church, lead singing (without coughing a single time), home, supper, bed, here, meet, scramble around trying to tie up loose ends, type, post, and then go meet some more.

Whee.

posted by Terry at 1:24:00 PM

Hey--I made it!!

And now I have to go waste it on a staff meeting. ::sigh:: Oh well, could be worse, I suppose.

posted by Terry at 8:28:00 AM

Friday, August 22, 2003

Getting to be that time...

Soccer last night--Boy had his first practice and nearly ran himself in the ground. He has about four kids on his team that were on it in the spring--unfortunately, the ones who seem to take great pleasure in being constant nuisances. Middle Girl had her practice and was run around mercilessly, too, but tickled to pick up the handy skill of sliding on the ground to steal the ball away from someone. (Stealing the ball is called 'tackling' in soccer, but I steadfastly refuse to use that term because if you actually do a nice open field tackle on someone and put them on their backs in the grass, you get a penalty. What sort of game is that!? Well, it AIN'T football, that's for sure.)

Reba had to go up to the school for a meet-the-teacher night for Jonathan's class. He got the same teacher Rebecca had last year, and she had nothing but high praise for both of them. She shouldn't have too much trouble out of Jonathan--I think he's rather sweet on her.

Got home at nearly nine, then had to turn around and go get gas in Reba's van, then come back and try to get everyone in bed. Took forever, due to homework left undone. Grr. Tonight, right back at it--Jonathan has practice again, and Rebecca's team is scrimmaging the 11 year old BOYS!! I imagine her team will do very well--the boys tend to not think the girls are any good, and hold back a bit to keep from hurting any of them, which, given the group of girls on her team means that the boys should get their clocks cleaned. These girls, even at 11 years old, are big and fast and good. Should be fun to watch.

Then, tomorrow, I HAVE to get out and cut the weeds down. They are taking over, and I haven't done my farm duties for far too long. And then, yet another trip to the park in the afternoon for YET ANOTHER scrimmage for Rebecca's team.

I suppose I have no reason to be tired since I'm not the one out there running around, but still, I sense an impending period of great fatigue.

And then there's our normal allotment of churching-up on Sunday, and I imagine there will be several small children in our house who will be plotting my overthrow as benevolent dictator during the weekend, and I forsee much effort expended trying to stay on top of the ever-lengthening honey-do list, and probably some food in there, and probably no nice, long, naps.

BUT IN ANY CASE, I think I will head toward the ranch and see what happens, and if I make it back in one piece on Monday, I might even write something about it. (Not that I ever do anything like that, but you never know...)

SO, you all go and have yourselves a nice weekend and let's see how it goes!

posted by Terry at 4:08:00 PM

Yeah, me too.

posted by Terry at 3:07:00 PM

Fires, vanadalism hit cars at dealership

WEST COVINA, Calif. (AP) -- Fires at an auto dealership destroyed several SUVs and a warehouse Friday. Other vehicles were vandalized with scrawled messages that included "Fat, Lazy, Americans."

"With all the evidence ... its highly likely it's an arson fire," said Rick Genovese, fire marshal for West Covina, a Los Angeles suburb.

The blaze broke out about 5 a.m. at a Hummer and Chevrolet auto dealership. Flames engulfed several vehicles, including Hummer H2s, which are luxury SUVs patterned after the military's workhorse Humvee.

A separate blaze about 100 yards away caved in a warehouse roof and sent up plumes of smoke. There were no reports of injuries.

The word "ELF" was written on at least one vehicle, a possible reference to the ecoterrorist group Earth Liberation Front. [...]

Fat? Lazy? Maybe so, Sweetpea, but I can always go on a diet. On the other hand, you'll always be an idiot.

It might be putting too fine a point on it, but these precocious little imps never seem to understand that the burning of a single vehicle or building releases more toxins and pollutants into the environment than a lifetime of driving done by a whole fleet of vehicles.

Morons.

posted by Terry at 2:29:00 PM

West Nile: Caution, not panic, urged

Well, I'll be! I bet everyone was sitting around, just WAITING for the Panic Alert to be issued.

posted by Terry at 1:44:00 PM

Mother given 25 years for placing infant in hot oven

WETUMPKA, Ala. (AP) -- A 27-year-old woman pleaded guilty to attempted murder and received a 25-year prison term for placing her infant daughter in a hot oven.

Melissa Wright of Coosada pleaded guilty Thursday before Elmore County Circuit Judge Sibley Reynolds. The court hearing had been set to consider a defense bid to relocate the trial, but became a plea proceeding.

Wright placed her 18-month-old daughter in the oven in June 2002, with the setting on broil. The child received third-degree burns over 70 percent of her body. Her screams brought help from her father, who was outside the house.

"The child has made a remarkable recovery, considering the injury she sustained," said District Attorney Randall Houston.

The child remains in the care of relatives and still faces years of reconstructive surgery. [...]

Would that her sentence was 25 years, served in an oven set on broil.

But that's just my cruel and unusual side talking.

posted by Terry at 1:20:00 PM

For a little light reading...

Those of you who may wish to find out all the reasonings behind the current Broadway show going on at our Supreme Court building in Montgomery, here is the original case opinion (pdf format) detailing the case for and against the placement of the monument, and the judge's ruling on the matter, then there's the appellate ruling from the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals (pdf format) which was issued back on July 1, and the final order from the original judge (Word format--silly thing kept crashing when downloaded as a pdf file) issued back on August 5.

They give a good run down of the story of the whole production, unburdened by all the yammering.

posted by Terry at 11:27:00 AM

Newhart Sets Sights on 'ER' for Guest Arc

By Nellie Andreeva

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - Comedy great Bob Newhart is embarking on a rare venture into drama with a recurring role on NBC's "ER."

He will play Ben Hollander, an architect suffering with macular degeneration. As his progressive loss of sight increasingly affects his ability to work, Hollander also begins to lose interest in the world. He befriends Dr. Susan Lewis (Sherry Stringfield), who develops an odd attachment to him.

The first episode of Newhart's three-episode arc is slated to air Oct. 30. [...]

::sigh:: Yet another plum role, PLAYING AN ARCHITECT, goes to some other guy. And I WEAR GLASSES, too! AND, I can do that telephone-call schtick just as well as Newhart---"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You say you're INSIDE the wall? Uh-huh. And the contractor has left for the day... Mmmhm. Are you near the bathroom? Oh. Well that might be a problem then."

I would rather play opposite of Maura Tierney, though. Or Ming-Na Wen.

Rrrowll.

posted by Terry at 10:22:00 AM

The Kiss of Death--Al Sharpton to endorse governor's tax proposal

THOMAS SPENCER
News staff writer

Democratic presidential candidate the Rev. Al Sharpton will endorse Gov. Bob Riley's $1.2 billion tax package at an appearance today in Birmingham.

Sharpton's campaign said that he would be meeting with Birmingham ministers and at a noon press conference at Bethel Baptist Church would make "a rare and unusual endorsement of a Republican governor's tax bill for education in Alabama." [...]

Say goodnight, Gracie.

If there was anything Bob Riley DIDN'T need, it was this lunatic coming to town.

(It's not like we don't already have them pouring in over the gunwales already...)

posted by Terry at 9:41:00 AM

Peg Watches Man Eat Burger...

And it makes the AP wire!!--Man Eats Burger in Every Kansas County

(Of course, Mrs. Britton's version of events is much more interesting.)

posted by Terry at 9:19:00 AM

In news about one of our other limelight-seeking, self-aggrandizing, mental homunculi--Scrushy continues to live the high life

MICHAEL TOMBERLIN
News staff writer

The HealthSouth Corp. accounting scandal hasn't slowed down Richard Scrushy.

In the past few weeks, his private company bought a $3 million marina in Orange Beach. Scrushy also entered his speedboat - named Monopoly - in a Gulf Coast race and vacationed with his family in the Bahamas.

The expenditures come days after another of Scrushy's companies bought a jet.

Former U.S. Attorney Doug Jones, who represents investors with shares that sank with the disclosure of HealthSouth's accounting fraud, said his clients are not happy to see Scrushy living an opulent lifestyle.

"It's thumbing your nose at the shareholders and at the face of all who were harmed in this case," Jones said.

OH BOO HOO! They should have cashed out early, just like Dickie-baby, and they could be living the high life, too.

Donald Watkins, a Birmingham lawyer representing Scrushy, said Thursday his client has not done anything wrong and shouldn't have to change his lifestyle.

He said the Orange Beach marina, for instance, is a good investment. Days ago, Marin Inc., a private company operated by Scrushy, paid $3 million for the 3.5-acre Walkers Marina on nearby Terry Cove. The property had been on the market more than a year and is zoned for a condominium development.

"It's my understanding that the property is very valuable," Watkins said. "He is investing his money in things that appreciate in value. Under no definition is that a waste of assets."

Of course not. But everyone, please, just remember that past performance is no guarantee of future results. I mean, you know, it might lose a lot of money and have to be written off on taxes or something. Man, that would be terrible.

Watkins said the boat race will do Scrushy good. Scrushy has entered his 40-foot Skater racing boat Monopoly in Sunday's "Thunder on the Gulf Coast" Super Boat Grand Prix event, and Marin Inc. is a sponsor of the race weekend.

Oh, good. You know, I bet there are scads of former HealthSouth employees and broke stockholders who have just been beside themselves with worry wondering if po' Rich was doing okay and feeling good about himself. A nice boat race should cheer him us just fine--like a nice golf game does for O.J.

Among the boats scheduled to race in the event is one owned by Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys singing group. Watkins said Scrushy will pilot Monopoly.

Oooh, Backstreet Boy meets Backroom Blowhard! I hope there's video.

"I thought that was a healthy exercise for him to undertake," Watkins said. "I just told him if he decided to enter the race, he must win."

At all costs?

(Sorry, how impertinent of me.)

Watkins said he is confident Scrushy will never have to surrender any of the wealth he accumulated while serving as chief executive of HealthSouth. Surveys in Fortune magazine have shown Scrushy was one of the nation's highest-paid CEOs.

Of course he's confident. That's what he gets paid to be.

Watkins said he recently joined Scrushy and his family on a trip to the Bahamas. Though Watkins was pursuing a business venture there, he said the Scrushys were there for pleasure. [...]

And who doesn't need a little pleasure in life, eh? Oh, by the way, the business deal was reported here, and involves expanding Watkins' banking business to the Bahamas. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

He also assures all of us that his client has no involvement in the venture.

Oh.

Okay then.

Scrushy's spending comes after the SEC failed to persuade U.S. District Judge Inge Johnson in Birmingham to freeze Scrushy's assets, estimated at $150 million.

A former SEC lawyer not involved in the case said Scrushy's actions validate the SEC's concerns.

"This is the government's worst nightmare in the sense it looks like he intends to dissipate the fortune he has accumulated over the years by pursuing an extravagant lifestyle," said Chris Bebel, now a partner with Houston's Shepherd Smith & Bebel law firm. "Even if his fortune is of an enormous nature, it won't stand up to this type of spending pressure much longer, especially when his legal fees are factored into the equation."

But isn't enough that he's happy?

At the hearing, SEC attorney Bill Hicks argued Scrushy shouldn't be allowed to "continue living the lifestyle of the rich and famous when every dollar he spends is one less dollar that will be around to compensate the victims at the end."

Oh come now, let's remember HE'S a victim, too. No, really.

In that hearing, Scrushy's attorneys argued he needed $223,237 per month to cover basic living expenses such as $3,180 for lawn maintenance at his mansions and $13,000 to pay the crew on his yacht. [...]

So terribly, TERRIBLY, misunderstood...

Bebel said Scrushy's public extravagance is likely not to win him new fans.

"It helps establish the degree of arrogance which seems to permeate every aspect of his being," he said. "News of this type of conduct will cause his foes to boil over with anger while at the same time engender confidence among his supporters."

Confidence inspired by the continued flow of cash--I would think that the percentage of supporters on his personal payroll is probably much higher than among the general public.

Anyway, live it up, Dick.

posted by Terry at 9:03:00 AM

California Gov. Suffers Double Blow of Bad News

By Adam Tanner

SAN FRANCISCO (Reuters) - California Gov. Gray Davis suffered more bad news on Thursday when the state's Democratic Congressional delegation said they were supporting Lt. Gov. Cruz Bustamante should a recall vote remove incumbent Davis from office.

Davis had originally hoped to defeat the Oct. 7 recall vote keeping other Democrats from the ballot, but Bustamante, who is barely on speaking terms with the governor, split the party by putting his name on the ballot.

With fewer than 50 days until Davis' political judgment day, House minority leader Rep. Nancy Pelosi said Democrats have changed their strategy and would back Bustamante should voters remove Davis, who is unpopular over his handling of state finances.

In more bad news for Davis, a poll released on Thursday suggested that he could well be out of a job soon. A Public Policy Institute of California telephone survey of 993 likely voters from Aug. 8 to Aug. 17 found 58 percent wanted to recall the Democrat. [...]

Wow--not only have evil Republicans tried to steal the governship, they have somehow managed to replace California's Congressional Democrats with ZOMBIES!! AND at least 576 of 993 likely California voters!!

Boy, if poor Gray had only installed a 5,300 pound block of Old Testamentation, all of this could have been avoided!!

posted by Terry at 8:23:00 AM

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Iraq's 'Chemical Ali' to be questioned

REALLY!?!

Man, who saw that coming?!

posted by Terry at 4:42:00 PM

Ahhh--memories of life upon the Plains: Residents accuse trailer parks of discrimination

The Associated Press
8/21/2003, 3:08 p.m. CT

AUBURN, Ala. (AP) -- Residents of two troubled mobile home parks near Auburn University claim the operators are trying to run them off to clear the way for college students.

At least 60 residents of Webster's Crossing and Auburn Estates contend managers have been making living conditions unbearable so they will move out and college students can move in.

Both parks are owned by the same California-based company and operated by the same two managers. Company officials denied the claims.

Tuesday night, the Auburn City Council heard allegations of excessive fines, unreasonable rate increases, unfair evictions and racial slurs directed toward residents.

"It is stressful living over there," said Wanda Marshall, a resident of Auburn Estates. "They're making conditions rough for us to make us move out."

Cathy Yazdanbakhsh, office manager of the California-based SDD Enterprises, which owns both parks, said new managers are enforcing rules fully, something their predecessors didn't do.

Evictions, Yazdanbakhsh said, resulted from numerous domestic violence calls placed to police, threats to management, vandalism and rule-breaking. [...]

The more things change, eh?

Oh, the nostalgia this brought back. Webster's was up the road a bit from Campus Trailer Court where I lived (long-time readers will remember my recollections of my tidy 7'x22' Terry Taurus Travel Trailer dwelling/changing room--scroll down to the entry for the 6th because Blogger is still stupid).

Webster's was where all the really cool rich kids lived, and had quite the party reputation. Campus, on the other hand, was pretty darned quiet to have so many college kids in it.

Although, I have to say that the family of screaming itinerant laborers and their assorted womenfolk who moved in next door during my junior year were a bit on the boisterous side.

You know how folks are.

posted by Terry at 3:50:00 PM

Here, have some chocolate.

posted by Terry at 2:34:00 PM

Oh, they're getting better!

Just got another nice e-mail from a guy in Nigeria--but with a twist!!:

Jeff Adams.

Lagos-Nigeria
DEAR SIR/MADAM
I am Jeff Adams.
Chairman of the Tender Committee of the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC). My Committee is principally concerned with payment of all contract awarded from 1998 to date, in order of priority as regard capital projects of the NNPC. The information we gathered from the Foreign Office of the Nigeria Chambers of Commerce and Industries is so positive as to convince us that you would provide us with solution to a money transfer deal valued at Thirty One Million United States Dollars and subsequently a joint business venture.

[yadda-yadda "liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) project", "over-invoiced", "we have worked out all modalities", "please contact me...with the following...Account Number", "Please be informed that this subject is classified sensitive"]

Yours Faithfully,
Jeff Adams.

Most of these things are automatic deletes, but the use of a plain old Anglo-Saxon name was such a nice touch. Deserving of an answer:

Jeff? THE Jeff Adams I went to high school with!? The last I heard, you and Nelda had gotten married and were living in Gulfport, Mississippi!! How in the world did you wind up over there in Nigeria? Are y'all still together?

You know, me and Tim Brand was looking at the yearbook a couple of weeks ago, and it's funny (especially considering where you are now) but you got voted Most Likely to be Incarcerated! But now it looks like you've gone legit, man! How did you ever swing such a sweet gig? The closest you ever got to petroleum was that jar of Vaseline you kept in your underwear drawer!

I was sorry to hear about your mom, by the way. I know you always said she was a real beeatch, but you know, when it's your mom like that, well, it's gotta be hard to deal with.

I hope Nelda is doing good--tell her I said hey if y'all are still hooked up. I hope all that stuff between me and her hasn't put a strain on you. It's like we said back then, that was band camp, and you know how band camp is.

Well, I guess I should let you get back to work, good luck on that deal and all.

Nah, I didn't sign it. He knows me, after all.

posted by Terry at 1:35:00 PM

That Peg Britton gal sure knows how to eat!

[...] We ate at Potrillos, or however it is spelled. I like #19, Brit had #15. Actually, I like them all. [...]

[...] Thursday I'm going to Sterling to eat a hamburger with Bill Bunyan #1033, a Kansas Explorer who has eaten a hamburger in every county in the state. It is his birthday and he has chosen to eat his last burger at Paddy's with his fellow Explorers, and others. Sterling also hosted Larry the Bowler's last bowl. Everyone is invited to attend. They'll ask Bill to make a few remarks; we'll ask him questions (no doubt regarding hamburgers) and eat a hamburger with him in the back room at 1:00. Just show up. [...]

[...] A friend from Pawnee Rock is coming tomorrow for lunch and a visit. I’m looking forward to that. Big salads are on the menu along with a side of white-fleshed nectarines. I bought some today and they are almost too sweet to eat. They are marvelous.

Oh, one more thing. I'll divulge a secret combination that is my own creation. Toast two slices of whole wheat bread and spread both slices liberally with Jiff extra crunchy peanut butter. Then take a ripe, homegrown tomato that has never seen the inside of a refrigerator and peel it. Slice it thick and put the whole thing, one way or another, on one of the slices of toast. Then take a very thick slice of icy cold Walla Walla, Vadalia or some very sweet onion and put that on. A thick slice! Put the sandwich together and enjoy. It's an incredible combination. Really it is. I have variations on that theme too, if you really twist my arm! [...]

My father was quite fond of peanut butter and dill pickles on white bread sandwiches. Smooth, though, not crunchy.

And by the way, Miss Peg, consider your arm twisted.

posted by Terry at 11:30:00 AM

Hamas abandons truce after Israeli strike

I realize I am unsophisticated in the ways of the world, but it seems to me that Hamas abandonded the truce when one of its learned and esteemed academic clerics boarded a bus full of civilians and triggered his explosive belt.

posted by Terry at 11:04:00 AM

A refreshing beverage AND a handy writing fluid!--NBA's LeBron James Inks Deal with Coke

Having suffered through the effects of a spewing 20 ounce bottle of the diet version while driving to work this morning, I can attest to its indelible qualities. At least when applied to a white oxford cloth dress shirt.

OOPS! It appears there was some sort of headline snafu--here ya go: LeBron James Signs Deal With Sprite

Okay, I hope that's more clear.

Thank you, folks! You've been a great audience--be safe getting home!

posted by Terry at 10:55:00 AM

Well, whaddya know...

The story is still being edited together, but the basics are that the other sitting members of the Alabama Supreme Court have agreed to overrule Chief Justice Moore:

[...] The associate justices wrote that they are "bound by solemn oath to follow the law, whether they agree or disagree with it."

The monument was briefly walled off from public view Thursday as the federal court deadline passed for the marker to be out of public sight. Then the plywood-like wall came down, displaying the monument again.

[Senior associate justice, Gorman] Houston said the building manager may have put up the partition in order for the state to be in compliance until the associate justices made a decision. Their seven-page order, signed by all eight, was issued about 10 a.m. [...]

posted by Terry at 10:34:00 AM

Oh, I'm here, alright

Just more junk to do. ::sigh:: At least tomorrow is payday.

posted by Terry at 9:40:00 AM

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Say what? Man with ear ache gets vasectomy

He's probably figured this out by now, but that ain't gonna help any.

posted by Terry at 4:42:00 PM

Oh please...Dems start group to try to 'recall' Bush

By SHARON THEIMER
The Associated Press
8/20/2003, 3:59 p.m. CT

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The latest Democratic drive to make sure President Bush serves just one term takes a page from the effort to oust a Democratic governor in California, calling its web site "bushrecall" and garnering support through petitions.

A new committee called the Fair and Balanced PAC plans to launch its www.bushrecall.org Web site Thursday. The PAC's founders include Joe Lockhart, a press secretary to former President Clinton, and Mike Lux, a Democratic political consultant.

The Constitution provides no way to recall a president through a ballot initiative, as California voters have a chance to do to Democrat Gray Davis in October. [...]

You know, what's sad is that the reporter felt it necessary to include that last sentence.

posted by Terry at 4:28:00 PM

What a cool idea!

The Bryn Mawrvelous Irene Adler has decided to host a story-writing contest!.

You got yourself until September 19, so get to work.

posted by Terry at 4:13:00 PM

This one's for the fellows at the Barbecue Emporium: Hunting wild hogs requires stamina

By ELLIOTT MINOR
The Associated Press
8/20/2003, 2:41 p.m. CT

ALBANY, Ga. (AP) -- Tommy Cantrell strapped on his hefty, .44-caliber Magnum revolver, threw 35 pounds of equipment over his back and vanished into the swamp along with a pack of yelping hunting dogs.

Their prey this weekend is the same as every weekend — the gluttonous, wire-haired wild hogs that don't like to be cornered and have been known to charge hunters with their tusks.

"You never know what you'll get into," said Cantrell, a forklift mechanic who, during weekend hunts, kills 50 to 75 hogs a year.

He has learned a thing or two about hogs in his 61 years.

"They can fight back. They're very smart. They can cut a dog to pieces. When you kill him, you need the firepower to stop him. I've had them drop dead at my feet."

His largest kill hangs on his living room wall: a 700-pound boar with four-inch tusks. [...]

Cletus' free-range barbecue idea suddenly becomes even more enticing.

posted by Terry at 3:51:00 PM

Well, it's not like they're in charge anyway...Supreme Court rejects last-minute Alabama chief justice appeal

By GINA HOLLAND
The Associated Press
8/20/2003, 3:12 p.m. CT

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Supreme Court refused Wednesday to block the removal of a Ten Commandments monument from an Alabama judicial building, rejecting a last-minute appeal from the judge who installed the display.

The justices said they would not be drawn, at least for now, into a dispute over whether the monument violates the Constitution's ban on government promotion of religion.

The high court was Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore's last hope to avoid a federal judge's midnight deadline to remove the display. It was unclear if Moore would comply. Other state officials have said the monument would be moved.

Moore's lawyers told justices in a filing that Moore should be allowed to "establish justice by acknowledging the guidance and favor of Almighty God, placed upon him by his oath of office and the Constitution of Alabama."

Moore installed the 5,300-pound stone monument in the rotunda of the judicial building two years ago after being elected chief justice amid publicity of his support of the Ten Commandments.

The Supreme Court has never ruled on the constitutionality of such indoor and outdoor government displays. In 1980, the court barred Ten Commandments from classroom walls in public schools.

The justices' refusal to intervene was not a surprise. An appeals court had twice refused to give Moore a stay.

"It's not like somebody's about to face execution, if the court doesn't enter a stay the person will be dead and the appeal will be moot," said David Frederick, a Washington attorney who specializes in Supreme Court practice. "If the Supreme Court were to decide it's constitutional, it can always be put back."

Moore had pledged last week to defy the judge's order. His emergency stay request was filed Wednesday with Justice Anthony M. Kennedy, who oversees cases from Alabama. Kennedy referred it to the full court, which said in a one-sentence order that it was rejected. [...]

It is at times like these I am reminded of the words of a famous Oscar-winning American actor...

Overture, curtains, lights,
This is it, the night of nights.
No more rehearsing and nursing a part,
We know every part by heart!

Overture, curtains, lights,
This is it, you'll hit the heights.
And oh what heights we'll hit,
On with the show this is it!

Tonight what heights we'll hit
On with the show this is it!

posted by Terry at 3:44:00 PM

[Maynard G. Krebs] WORK!?! [/Maynard G. Krebs]

A whole line of stables to muck out today, so blogitude will be light.

In the meantime, Possumblog's Iron Ranger and Yankee States Reporter, Toni Albani, sent me word that the Minnesota State Fair in St. Paul will be beginning TOMORROW, and will run through Labor Day. Sadly, Lynyrd Skynyrd had to cancel, so you will all have to do an impromptu karaoke version of "Sweet Home Alabama", BUT there is still a way to smell "That Smell"!

The State Fair in EVERY state is one of the best places to enjoy the rich aroma of Food On A Stick, and to assist you in this effort, the Minnesota State Fair has a handy food directory you can use. Just scroll down to the bottom, choose the category "On-A-Stick" from the dropdown menu, press search, and you will be rewarded with information on FIFTY-FOUR purveyors of tasty, nutritious, skewered fare, such as Bayou Bob's Gator Shack, which has Alligator (aka Chicken of the Swamp) On a Stick; Cheese on a Stick, which, in a shot to the head to snotty ironic postmodernism, actually serves cheese on a stick (with lemonade!); Grannie's Kitchen Fudge Puppies, serving those wonderful Belgian waffles dipped in Swiss chocolate, topped with a crunch coating and whipped topping (on a stick, I might add); all the way to the piscine crown jewel of Minnesota, Walleye on a Stick--BUT WAIT!! It's not JUST on a stick, it can also be had on a bun, and in a boat!

I WILL eat it on a stick! I WILL eat it on a bun, and on a boat! I LOVE Walleye on a Stick!

Anyway, y'all go look while I do something productive with my morning (and Miss Toni wanted you all to know she cribbed the link from those baseball-loving regular guys over at Fraterslibertas.com).

posted by Terry at 8:46:00 AM

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Here's the story about the e-mail virus we all seem to have been getting today: New Fast-Spreading Sobig Worm Adds to 'Worm Week'

[...] Sobig.F, a variant of an older worm, began spreading on Monday in Europe and has infected an estimated tens of thousands of Windows-based computers, said Patrick Hinojosa, chief technology officer at Panda Software, based in Madrid.

It arrives in e-mail and includes a variety of subject lines, including "Your details," "Thank you!," "Your application" and "Wicked screensaver." It has caused some corporate e-mail systems to grind to a halt, according to Sophos Inc.

When the .pif or .scr attachment is opened, Sobig.F infects the computer and sends itself on to other victims using a random e-mail address from the address book.

It also prepares the computer to receive orders and tries to download files from the Internet, said Hinojosa. It was unknown exactly what files they were, he said. [...]

Probably bears repeating, but DON'T OPEN FILES YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT.

posted by Terry at 4:00:00 PM

Constant Positive Reinforcement…and FOOD!!

As you all know, I live for constant positive reinforcement, so imagine my surprise to see Chet the E-Mail Boy scuttle out of the coat closet to let me know I had received the following:

Re:Sriracha!

Good morning sir!

Oh, holy cats--another Nigerian e-mail!

I have read and enjoyed your blog for months now.

I admire your both your fortitude and your ability to lie convincingly!

It was then that I read down and figured out that this was not from a spammer, but in fact, was a letter from an actual person. (Imagine!)

Congratulations on discovering Sriracha hot sauce. It IS very tasty. As a 12 year resident of California, I have enjoyed it for many years, but didn't realize it was so hard to find, or so poorly known.

Ah, yes—the wonderful, tasty concoction from our good friends at Huy Fong Foods, Inc.

I don't know which it is--the little Chinese place we visited certainly puts great stock in it, so it may be better known than I realized. I just haven't found it in the bigger grocery stores yet. The Roomba Queen of Vidalia (who likes off-beat hot sauces, too) mentioned that she is familiar with Huy Fong's brand of salsa, Sambal Oeleck.

Anyway, the Sriracha is good stuff--I first tried a little dab on an egg roll, and then started slathering it on everything.

I have shipped it to my father in Chicago, and when I recently moved to Texas, I had to bring several bottles with me, as none was available locally. I offer the following suggestions for your further enjoyment.

It is really good on scrambled eggs (the runnier the better), or with ketchup on bacon and egg sandwiches.

It is very tasty if added to Campbell's Cheese and broccoli soup, (esp. when you add chopped bacon.)

It's really a good substitute for chili peppers in a Thai inspired cucumber salad:
Peel one 10 inch cucumber, quarter lengthwise, then cut into 1/4" thick pieces.

Combine 1/2 of small onion, finely chopped; with cut up cucumber in bowl.

Combine 1 tbsp sugar, 2 tbsp rice (or white) vinegar, 1/2 tsp salt, and 1/2 tbsp (more if desired) Sriracha in small bowl, whisk well.

Pour mixture over cukes, stir well, let sit in fridge to chill, enjoy!
(I stole most of this recipe from "Simply Thai Cooking" by Young and Auanoglu, but the use of the Sriracha is all me, baby.)

Well, as anyone who has ever read this pile of poo knows, you send in a recipe, and it gets posted!!

But then, suddenly, the tone turns somber:

Unfortunately for me, I fail several of the key tests for inclusion in the Axis of Weevil, (infrequent blog updates, no ties whatsoever to AL.) but perhaps, with work, some of my other character faults can compensate?

Boy howdy, a cry for help if I ever heard one.

I don’t know what we can do, though…everyone knows what sticklers we are for strict adherence to the rules around here.

Of course, there is the oft-abused Calvinball rule...

Congrats on your 12 years of marriage, and thanks for writing.

Bill Zukley

Thank you very much, Bill, and thank you for writing to me. As I have told several of you, it never ceases to amaze me that anyone would ever read the silly mess I post, much less that they would ever come back for more!

So, thank you, Bill, and thanks for the recipe!

posted by Terry at 3:42:00 PM

Cletus'n'em are writing stuff today!

posted by Terry at 2:58:00 PM

French rock legend files defamation suit

"French rock legend"? A bit like being the world's shortest giant, no?

posted by Terry at 2:43:00 PM

Oh. Boy.
Gender imbalance: Dallas County women flex massive muscles in choirs, on jobs and around town where ...

A good man is hard to find

CARLA CROWDER
News staff writer

SELMA -- Church choirs are heavy on the sopranos here. Light on bass.

Women sell car parts. Women sell power tools. Women even outnumber the male employees at Walter Craig, an enormous gun store.

Single guys sure are persnickety. Not women. Some just give up and move away in search of male companionship.

A good man is hard to find in Dallas County. There are only 77 men here for every 100 women, according to the 2000 Census, the greatest testosterone shortage in Alabama.

Is it just me, or does this sound like it has the makings of a brand new reality show? Maybe send in some nice Yankee guy to get mauled by desperate Dallas Countiettes.

Naaaah, to make it more interesting, they would probably have to make it more difficult than that--maybe send in a midget Slovakian lesbian nuclear scientist or something. (Boy, am I gonna get some weird search hits now.)

"We're in trouble," said Ashley Edwards, an Auburn student from Selma.

Loretta Osborne had a different view: "I say the men are in trouble. They're outnumbered."

OOOooooooWHEEE!!--looks like a catfight brewing!!

Both women pondered their hometown gender imbalance on a recent Tuesday at Debbie's Shear Talent, a hair salon on the north side of Selma.

Owner Debbie Veach insisted she cuts lots of male heads. Not on this day. Only three men on the books. And 18 women.

"You look around in this town and you're going to see ten times more women," Veach said.

For all you single guys, here's the map to the salon.

It's not a problem for her, she's been married 12 years. Veach met her husband right in Dallas County, and says the dating situation is far from hopeless.

"If you go to the river here, that's where you'll find a man because they all fish," Veach said. "I caught the big one. And I caught a good one."

Remember this, guys: 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.

Indeed, the banks of the Alabama River appear fertile for more than just crappie and blue gill. Two pickup spots have earned the nicknames "Little Miami" and "Fort Lauderdale," say the lunchtime chatters gathered in the courthouse probate office.

You know, there's an old joke about Adam and Eve and the river that I'm just NOT going to tell.

"My husband's got boat fever, that ought to tell me something," said Chief Probate Clerk Suzanne Ingram, who was unfamiliar with the riverside courting spots. She was however, familiar with two women in their 60s who fled Selma to Alabama towns known to have more eligible fellas.

Towns, you will note, which are not named. Mighty suspicious, if you ask me. And I think if I was Mrs. Ingram, I'd be putting the quietus on that boat deal right quick.

Dallas County men still complain. Apparently, the plethora of women gives them license to be choosy.

Take Ray Hogg's rule. If he was still single, Hogg announced in the probate office, "I'd use the two river rule."

You've got to go past two rivers, the Alabama and the Tombigbee to find quality. That puts you in Montgomery, he says.

Of course, it's cheaper just to put in an ISDN line and order 'em off the Internet. I guess--I mean, I really don't know.

"There are serious quality issues here, people who are heavily recycled," said Stephen McLamb, a 38-year-old single man, who gave a nod to the two-river rule. [...]

No offense intended, Stephen, but don't you think it's a bit much for a single 38-year-old to blame quality control issues and intensive reuse for not being able to hook up? I mean, there's 1.29 women for every guy, right? Seems like you could at least find that point-two-niner and ask her out.

Residents of smaller outlying towns such as Orrville and Safford were surprised to learn about Dallas County's gender breakdown.

"I don't think so. If that's the case, I would have somebody," said Charles Johnson, a 44-year-old handyman repairing the floor at Oxford's, a grocery store that also advertises itself as a meat market. Signs outside the door remind customers: "Pants worn appropriately" and "Shirt required."

Johnson, pants worn appropriately, admits to being choosy.

"I don't think they carry themselves good enough for me," he said. [...]

Yep. Reckon prob'ly so.

posted by Terry at 1:58:00 PM

You know...

Around here, we used to say, "Thank goodness for Mississippi"--well, time for some updating: Bride in Conn. Rages at Reception, Jailed

SOUTH WINDSOR, Conn. - A North Haven bride spent part of her wedding night in a jail cell, after police said she hurled things at reception hall workers who closed the bar.

Adrienne T. Samen, 18, was arrested on criminal mischief and breach of peace charges Saturday after police responded to The Mill on the River restaurant.

When workers there closed the bar, Samen allegedly began throwing things, including wedding cake and vases. Samen left the restaurant, and police found her walking down the road in her gown.

While being taken into custody, police said she kicked the door and window of the police cruiser and tried to bite an officer. [...]

Thanks for taking up some of the slacker slack, Nutmeg Staters!

(Wicked cool tats, by the way.)

posted by Terry at 1:04:00 PM

Mmmmm-- Stocks waffle in mixed trading; Dow down 19

Ham radios came to rescue in blackout

Sounds like...Breakfast!!

posted by Terry at 12:53:00 PM

Hmmm.

This one is timestamped at 10:56 a.m. CT--FCC cracks down on unsolicited fax messages

While this one is timestamped at 10:29 a.m. CT--FCC delays rules on junk faxes to 2005

You fellows go sort this out and get back to me. I have some nice Nigerian fellow on the phone right now who wants to give me $10,000,000 (Ten Millions UNITIED STATES DOLLARS!!).

posted by Terry at 11:52:00 AM

HEY!! Did you hear!?--1,000-year-old giant sequoia falls

Thank you. I'll be here all week.

posted by Terry at 11:46:00 AM

There's someone with a virus out there--(Yes, really! Believe it or not!) I have gotten about twelve e-mails this morning with attached .scr and .pif files. They all have normal addresses, which means it's probably a variation on the virus that scoops up names out of someone's address book or outbox file along with various subject lines that have been used (i.e. Re: Your report, Re: You'll love this, Re: That movie, etc.), and then sends itself out using those names.

Remember, if you get something that is supposed to be from me, I never, EVER send out attached files unsolicited. DO NOT OPEN anything from anyone, including me, unless you are certain that it doesn't contain a virus.

UPDATE: I just got an Undeliverable Mail message from an address with someone at the State of Michigan, indicating I had sent this person an e-mail with an attached virus. Again, just because my address is in the 'From' space, doesn't mean I sent it!

It appears Mac is having the same problems, too.

Chet the E-Mail Boy is now cowering in the coatroom. I told him it was not his fault, but you know how he is.

posted by Terry at 10:53:00 AM

You know, I don't think I've ever read an AP headline like this--Ex-Guard Sentenced for Peeing on Inmates

I mean, etiquette seems to demand a more genteel, more clinical word.

Then again, I guess they don't call it "A P" for nuthin'.

posted by Terry at 10:47:00 AM

From the "Well, You Don't Read THAT Everyday" File: Giant Komodo dragon receives acupuncture

The Associated Press
8/19/2003, 9:10 a.m. CT

SINGAPORE (AP) -- An 8-foot-long Komodo dragon lizard in Singapore's zoo has been receiving traditional Chinese acupuncture treatment for a nerve disorder.

"Tirto is now more relaxed and is beginning to enjoy his treatments," a spokesman for the Singapore Zoological Gardens, Vincent Tan, said Tuesday. [...]

He still gets nervous at the dentist's office, though.

posted by Terry at 9:45:00 AM

Calif. Democrats facing strains to unity

Really!?

posted by Terry at 9:42:00 AM

Alabama chief justice asks appeals court to stay monument removal

MONTGOMERY, Ala. (AP) -- Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore turned to a federal appeals court in an attempt to block the removal of his Ten Commandments monument from the Alabama Judicial Building.

Attorneys for Moore filed papers late Monday with the 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Atlanta, seeking a stay of an order to remove the 5,300-pound monument by a midnight Wednesday deadline. [...]

On and on.

I got to thinking about it over the weekend and I wondered if Jedge Roy doesn't get his way with the U.S. Supreme Court, will he just refuse to obey that ruling too? Would certainly make sense given his current state of agitation. And make a fine show, indeed.

posted by Terry at 9:40:00 AM

Since someone tripped on the cord a few days back...

and a sizable swath of the Northeast was without power (and some folks still are), I thought it was interesting to note the reactions of people--the media were quick to get out stories from titheads in various backwaters gloating about the disaster--you know, 'Amriki now knows our pain', 'Oh, America is not so powerful now', etc.

Whatever. I also noted that New Yorkers ran their affairs pretty darned well--you know, like regular everyday folks getting out in intersections and directing traffic. They could have raged and marched and cried and screamed and ululated and all that garbage like it was some enlightened, noble Third World bedpan, but there was work to be done and some Joe Blow (or his sister, Josephine) out on the street did it. No one had to tell them, no one had to order them at gunpoint, and they didn't have to ask what to do. They just knew what had to get done. Somehow, I just can't imagine the same thing happening in Tinpotistan.

Thus pointing out the difference between the truly civilized and the ones who just pretend.

Yes, it was bad, and unnerving, and massively expensive, and is still going on in some places. But guess what? We'll get it fixed.

posted by Terry at 8:42:00 AM

Monday, August 18, 2003

And tonight?

A triumph of event scheduling conducted entirely by wild arm-waving and gesticulation!

I have to pick up the dry cleaning, go by the in-laws to pick up their mail, get home in time to choke down some food, then turn right around and load up Middle Girl for soccer practice, AND take Boy and Baby Girl with me to the park, because Mom has to go to a meeting at school with Baby Girl's teacher to discuss all the wonderful things the dear child will learn this year.

It is at times like these I realize how odd it is to have more than one child. The teacher meeting was specifically noted as being PARENTS ONLY. No children. "Send the parent who works more closely with child on homework."

Right.

Which would be fine if you have someone to watch your child, or only one child to watch, but having a litter of puppies with a broad range of ages and extracurricular activities makes such exercises a real test of endurance. Of which I have precious little.

Maybe I could teach the 10 year old to drive.

posted by Terry at 4:36:00 PM

Derned Blogger! Some days it won't post at all, then some days it posts the same thing three times!!

Sorry about that.

posted by Terry at 3:40:00 PM

Interesting...Students' behavior instruction covers bullying

Not how to. How NOT to. In any event, what an odd little story:

By JENNIFER GINSBERG
The Associated Press
8/17/2003, 11:53 p.m. CT

OXFORD, Ala. (AP) -- Children at Oxford Elementary School no longer will receive candy, pizza or ice cream parties as rewards for good behavior. This year, the school expects students to behave because it's the responsible thing to do.

Kindergarten teacher Kelley Williams said she's excited about the new policy. It's important, she says, to start early teaching children how to manage themselves, to think about how their actions affect others, and to realize they have a choice when deciding how to behave.

So far, so good...

Under the Oxford school's new plan, teachers will discuss four levels of social behavior with their students: democracy, cooperation, bullying and anarchy. The students will learn that the only two acceptable levels at school are democracy, which is having total self-discipline [What th'?], and cooperation, which is following directions [Again, WTF?].

Since when did democracy become the equivalent of having total self-discipline? When did cooperation start meaning "you do what I say"? Laudable goals to try to get the little imps to behave, but I believe I see an attempt by someone to cover the unpleasant necessity of maintaining a sane classroom environment (i.e.--NOT a democracy, and NOT a give and take between two equal partners) with some feel-good words designed to make parents feel warm and fuzzy.

If students behave on the bullying or anarchy levels, the teacher will ask them reflective questions to help them understand their behavior.

For example, the teacher could ask the misbehaving student, "What level of behavior is that?" or "Would it be right for everyone to operate at that level?"

How sweet. Little Alex will quit his ultraviolence double fast!

Then the teacher will ask the rest of the class how the misbehaving student can move from this level to one of the two acceptable levels.

But aren't we afraid of stigmatizing the poor dear by holding him forth as a negative example? Will his self-esteem be damaged by being castigated for exploring his ambient nature?

Under the previous policy, the teacher took the student aside and explained why the action was wrong. Now the child will have to explain what they did, why it is wrong, and what would have been a better choice.

Not a bad way of doing it, but for heaven's sake, just say you want teachers to be in charge of the class!

"If the teacher is asking, the students will be thinking. If the teachers tell, the teachers think," said Principal Charlotte Hubbard.

Oh heaven forbid we have any of the teachers thinking! As for how this will work, there are always going to be some hard core munchkins who are going to just not say anything at all. You know, cooperating democratically. So the teacher will spend good classroom time trying to get poor Jim Bob to confess to his crimes. Yeah--that happens all the time.

Most of the time, when children are being punished they don't realize what they are being punished for because the punishment, not the action, captures their attention, said Ali Iran-Nejad, a professor of educational psychology in the University of Alabama's College of Education.

The reflective questions help the child understand their actions, Iran-Nejad said.

"Understanding of the rules and other people's feelings, changing their thinking and redirecting the situation into something that increases their self-worth should be good," Iran-Nejad said regarding Oxford's new policy.

Yep, should be. Anyway, if it's so all-fired great, let's just call it what it is. Whatever that might be. Other than democracy.

At the core of this plan is to have the teacher and other students help the misbehaving student see what his or her options are.

You know, like an intervention.

The plan also involves a "stop, think and go" component in which teachers will instruct students to "stop" and take a deep breath, "think" about their options and "go" with their best choice.

And as long as their "best choice" is the one proscribed by the manual, everything is great. You know, it's that democratic cooperation thing.

"As the students explore other choices, they are better prepared to determine more effective ways to handle potential problem situations as they develop their abilities to understand cause and effect," said Vicki Braden Sharp, the director of guidance at George Washington Community School in Indianapolis.

Fine, as long as you quit trying to say that limiting the choices to the things you have predetermined is equivalent to being democratic. Is it THAT hard to just say you want to be in charge?

As a result of thinking about their actions in response to the reflective questions, Sharp says, the Oxford students will become more responsible by "owning" their behavior, and will be less likely to blame others.

"Hopefully, as students take ownership, they also make better choices," she said.

Well, whatever. Seems like an awfully long walk to get to the woodshed, though. Why not just post rules, and tell the children if they disobey them, they will receive punishment?

Hubbard said she and her faculty felt they needed to have a more positive behavioral-support policy instead of the traditional punishment/reward policy.

"We were rewarding extrinsically," she said of past procedures. "We want them to be responsible for their actions whether we're looking or not."

Oh. Well, that explains it, now doesn't it.

Although she stresses that her main goal is to establish behaviors that will carry the children through life, Hubbard hopes the plan also will cut down office referrals. Last year, she estimates, she spent one to two hours of each day dealing with students sent to the office for discipline.

Ahhhh. Now, I believe now we have finally gotten to the reason. Jim Bob's taking up too much of the PRINCIPAL'S time. Back in the olden days, there was a reason kids feared being sent to the principal's office. One tends to think, rightly or wrongly, if today's principal would take the stand that 1) This ain't no democracy, and 2) No backtalk, that she might have a few more hours in the day for some quiet time. Yes, I know, I'm being even more of a dinosaur than Barney.

Julie Dikeman, the mother of a first grader at the elementary school, said she likes the new plan.

"I think that a child really needs to be responsible for their behavior," she said. "I think it's good to make them accountable for their actions at an early age; maybe this will do it."

Maybe. Or not.

Dikeman and another mother, who requested to remain anonymous, said they are a bit concerned that the reflective questioning could take away from instruction time; especially when disciplining children who frequently misbehave.

Hubbard has a plan for repeat offenders. If the negative behavior continues after the reflective questioning, the student will be placed in time out. If that doesn't solve the problem, the child will be sent to another classroom. If the behavior continues, an administrator will remove the child from the classroom.

Oooh. Time out. Sent to another classroom. Sent...well, somewhere out of the classroom. But HEAVENS to BETSY, don't send the little tyke to the PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE! She's busy, you know.

Hubbard plans parent-training sessions to teach parents how to use reflective questioning at home to help their children learn to do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, and not for a reward.

Although Dikeman said she doesn't always use reflective questioning at home, she thinks it's a goal for every parent.

"It makes the child stop and think (and become) accountable for their actions," she said.

Uh huh. Start that questioning, and *poof* the scales fall from their eyes.

I realize that there's probably more to this story than what's reported in the paper, but still, it reeks of misdirection and psychopablum.

No, kids shouldn't be rewarded for NOT MISbehaving (Can I have a cookie? I didn't kill anyone!). It's not good for them to expect a reward simply for doing the right thing (Give me a cookie--I did my homework). They should expect to get in trouble if they misbehave, and (believe it or not) it won't hurt for them to be rewarded for exceptionally good behavior. They should come to an understanding that their actions have consequences, and that it is in their power to make those decisions, and that they can't blame anyone else when they make the wrong choices.

BUT, it does them no good to insist they have a choice when it comes to the rules. Oh, it might take away the scary image of mindless little child drones sitting in ranks in front of a mean old battle axe, and now the principal gets to be seen as the Friendly Helpful Buddy Pal Flower Friend, but let's cut the pretense that this is some sort of shiny package of goodness and enlightenment. If you really want democracy and cooperation, send 'em to a Montessori school.

posted by Terry at 3:05:00 PM

Okay now…

Well, first, the trip to Fine-Fingered Felicia, my Fysician, who let me know that, just like the old song says, I’m doing pretty good for the shape I’m in. Still need to lose some more avoirdupois through the twin evils of more exercise and fewer calories, so as not to burden my children with my invalidity later on in life. ::sigh:: But I WANT to burden them! I want to climb in bed with them and pee! I want to throw bits of paper all around their houses! I want to leave towels all over their bathrooms! I want to run to my room and cry when they turn off the television! Is that too much to ask?

Of course not.

Anyway, that taken care of, you may recall there was another big event I was leading up to when we last spoke.

So what was that whole anniversary thing like, you ask? Well, first let me say that of all of the suggestions I received, Nate McCord’s was very nearly spot on. Now don’t feel bad, but I had already begun shopping around before I put out the solicitation for ideas—I just thought it would be neat to see what you all came up with. As I said, though, Nate got closest. But I get ahead of myself.

As you recall, last Friday there was some talk of skullduggery and sweatiness. This was occasioned by a lunchtime ramble—first stop, Parisian. They had a very pretty necklace there that I saw a couple of months ago, and so I went back Friday to get it and found another one that I liked even better—simple long strand of freshwater pearls with two little dangly pearl tassels on the end. I had told Mrs. Gore that I had been looking around at some of the local antique stores, but I never did quite find what I was looking for, but this one fit the bill nicely and has a sort of antiquey feel.

Thus hardwared, it was time to head over to the software store for some roses. Since we haven’t been eating lunch together a lot lately, I figured I would surprise her by bringing these directly to her. Whenever I send her flowers, it seems to make all the other women in her office jealous, so an in-person delivery makes it even more green-eye inducing. (She likes the flowers, but I think she likes showing off, too. Heh.) Anyway, a nice arrangement of pale peach roses it was (trying to stay in the silk/pearl color palette, y’know).

Now then, the delivery…I had intended to sneak the necklace into her van, so I set off with the jug of flowers and the plastic bag containing my nicely gift-wrapped treasure, but then realized I was going to have to make a slight detour so she wouldn’t accidentally see me out the window, or worse, one of her coworkers see me going into the garage. Oh well, it was only about 190 degrees, so four extra blocks was nothing. Even if your hands are getting sweaty, and that pretty vahhhhz of flowers and gallon of water is getting heavy.

Got to the garage about ten minutes later thoroughly drenched in possumy perspiration, but unseen by anyone. Walked around inside for a while and finally found her van, opened the door and laid the gift box on the seat and covered it up with a handy piece of paper, then scooted back downstairs and back out into the heat. Did I mention it was hot?

Block and a half on down, and walk in with roses to universal applause and envy and placed them on Reba’s desk. TaDAAAAAH! Then back to work.

Good old work, where I tracked my UPS shipment to see that the pearl-colored silk charmeuse Grand Prize had only an hour before been delivered to our door. (As I said, Nate was spot on as far as sexy and silky, but Miss Reba is a gown girl.)

I love it when a plan comes together!

Well, almost.

Got home, found that Oldest had gotten the UPS box inside, I opened it up, laid the handsome gift box upon Reba’s side of the bed with her cards, and greeted her when she got home with the younger kids. She marveled at my sneakiness in getting her jewelry hidden in the van, and then went upstairs to freshen up before we went out to eat.

Oh, and what’s this!? Why, Terry, how sweet you are!! Yes, I know!! She opened the lingerie box and was all aquiver at the naughty sheerness of it. “But, you know what?”

Oh no. No, no, no.

“I started this morning…”

Done in by Aunt Minnie!! Pummeled by Aunt Flo!! Stabbed in the back by Cousin Tom! Overrun by the danged Commies! CURSES!! ::sigh:: Well, we still got to go out to a nice restaurant.

Got the kids bundled back into the van and started out to my mom’s house, dropped by the chicken place to get them something to eat, then dropped them out with strict instructions to be good little children and not kill anyone, then Reba and her friend and I went on to the Galleria.

Haven’t been there in a long time, and it seemed strangely empty for a Friday night. It’s not that there weren’t people, but there just didn’t seem to be the same bustle there was when it was new. Which is to be expected, I suppose. It was sad to see the Macy’s closed down—it was one of the original anchors of the place, and even had its very own parking deck. Odd to feel nostalgic for a gigantic mall tenant, but there you go. Anyway, we decided to drop by the Wynfrey Hotel in the mall and see what was going on and found that the precious little Chicory Grille was having their normal Friday seafood buffet, so we decided to get that.

Pretty good—I got a salad, and then a tiny piece of Salmon with Incredibly Rich Sauce, and some Pecan Encrusted Chicken and Crab, and a few bits of smoked salmon, and a little piece of Genuine Authentic New Orleans Blackened Style Catfish, and some of the Fried Seafood Medley, consisting mainly of calamari since no one likes calamari and everyone had already picked out the shrimp and oysters.

Pretty good, I suppose. The grilled salmon was a little too much, and the chicken was ever so slightly tough. The Blackened Catfish wasn’t. I realize that the Prudhommerie was very popular ten years ago, and blackening has now been extended to every conceivable meat, but you know, when you say “blackened”, you tend to think “blackened”, and not broiled or poached with Cajun seasoning. Thick piece of meat, a nice, even, light caramel color all over, with lots of pretty sprinkles. Good, but blackened it wasn’t, which requires you to throw a spicy buttered catfish onto a nearly red hot iron skillet. It flames up and creates a ton of toxic smoke, but when done right is REAL good. (Don’t try this at home unless you’re outside using a gas burner.) The calamari was okay—the flavor was good but it had been sitting out a bit too long. I never have been particularly fond of it anyway, especially after seeing Kirk Douglas poke one with a harpoon. The dessert table was…interesting. Lots of cakes and pies and stuff, all artfully arranged on framed mirrors. Not trays, mind you; actual framed mirrors, with deeply carved Baroque-Style™ wood frames—deep carvings which would seem to be perfect hiding places for any one of about a billion different types of germs which would attack your insides without thinking twice. I appreciate the intended effect, but you know—and I realize this just may be the unsophisticated hick in me—but I think I would rather keep the picture frames up off the table and on the wall where they belong.

Of course, trying to get the cheesecake and apple pie to stay on the wall would be a problem, I’m sure, but still…

Anyway, we got finished up and completely stuffed, so we walked around the mall for a bit to work off some of the meal. Window shopped for girl stuff for a while, and finally got Miss Reba into a popular mid-priced mass retailer, where I FINALLY found the pair of dress shoes I’ve been trying to get forever. Nice pair of black Florsheim wingtips, built the way God intended with a real leather sole and heel. And they were on sale! And they are the size of clown shoes! I asked for my normal size, 9 1/2 D, which they didn’t have, because since that’s a common size, they don’t have any. They did have a 10 EEE. Why, that’s RIDICULOUS! It’ll FALL OFF my foo…hmmm, hey, you know what? These feel pretty darned good! So, I now have gigantic comfortable shoes.

Back to my mom’s house, where we discovered that the children had indeed acted exactly like children, so after sternly demanding apologies to Granny Jean from each, it was time to hit the road and go home. And even though the small craft advisory flag was up, Reba did agree to at least try on her new thin filmy thing for me to gain some momentary amusement. SO, kids to bed and on with the show! Which lasted about five seconds, which was the time required to see that I had made an error in judgment as far as size. If only I had gotten it in 10 EEE, everything would have been fine—too loose is much more better than too tight. ::sigh:: At least there is a handy return receipt.

Up Saturday, nice breakfast, a special anniversary song from Rebecca and Jonathan, laundry, and after almost two months, I finally got the curtains hung back up in the kitchen. Went and got a few groceries and then started getting the kids cleaned up early so as to take them shopping for some school clothes.

Good grief, they sure are expensive little animals. And time consuming. Four hours of fun trying on clothes and trips to the restroom. We got the younger three outfitted, which reduced me to a a fine pulp, so Reba and Ashley went to go shop for her stuff and I went out in the food court to find a place to sit and stare at people. I got the kids an ice cream cone apiece and we sat down as they jabbered happily and managed to eat their treat without a single wayward glob escaping onto their clothing or hair. Small wonder. Thus sugared-up, I made them endure an hour of sitting quietly with me on a bench. Reba and Oldest finally came out, and seeing as how none of us had eaten lunch, we figured we would get something quick there in the food court.

Ashley started yammering about eating at the Ming Wok place and seeing as how I was tired and hungry and in no mood to suggest alternatives, that’s where we ate.

You know, scientific folks say the human body is made up of about 60-70% water. I have discovered a way to alter this so that your entire insides turn completely liquid. I believe it has to do either with eating from a diffidently prepared seafood buffet, or from a food court Chinese restaurant near closing time. In either case, or by whatever cause, I have since become quite a prokaryotic playground. At least they’re having a good time.

So, home from shopping and directly to bed for the kiddies and directly to the porcelain throne for yours truly, which allowed me a few moments of quiet time to enjoy MY anniversary present from Miss Reba, Rudy Giuliani’s book, Leadership. It came packaged with a thin book of quotations, too, which is kind of neat since I like quotations—an apt one for my condition could be one from Socrates: “Let him who would move the world, first move himself.” Moving, indeed.

Finally to bed, then up again Sunday and to church, where I managed to make it through an entire 45 minutes of class without exploding like Mr. Creosote. Good service, then on to visit Ashley’s other grandparents, about which, as always, I will say nothing. Other than they gave Catherine YET ANOTHER Skating Barbie. After we managed to leave, Cat scrambled to get it out of the sack to play with in the van, then started protesting for the tiny accessories that came with it. Reba told her no, not wanting to have to listen to her whine when she would invariably drop something under her seat. So, Tiny Terror ratcheted up the protests, and in a stunning reversal of fortune, Evil Daddy said that not only would there be no tiny water bottle or hair brush coming her way, Twirly Barbie would be going right back in the sack until we got home.

Thirty minutes. Nonstop weeping of, “IwantmyBarbieIwantmyBarbieIwantmyBarbie IWANTMYBAR-BIE IwanmaBooohooobrrrreeeeewhaaaaaaaaaaa I WANT MY BARBIE IwantmyBarbieIwantmyBarbie…” Thirty solid minutes. But, you know what they say, never negotiate with terrorists.

Got home and she ran off to the couch and buried her head in the cushions until such time as she figured that she might be able to work a deal. She came in the kitchen and we had a little talk about when Mommy says “No,” Mommy means “No,” and our proper response should be, “Yes, ma’am.” Hugs and kisses for Mommy, “I sorry I din’t say yes ma’am and I acted ugly.” Next, the response to losing our toy due to churlishness should never be MORE naughtiness, so we had a little talk about not going on a crying jag for half an hour. Hugs and kisses for Daddy, “I sorry I screamded in the van.” Okay, final chapter, how to ask for something in a way that approaches being a human rather than a gibbon—“Daddy, may I play with my Barbie and her stuff, please?” Absolutely.

Happy as a clam.

Speaking of which, I retired to the reading room for a bit more edification, then it was time to head back to church for another good sermon and then home for some supper and then to bed and then impossibly, it was once again time to get up and come to work. How does that happen?

Anyway, here I am again.

posted by Terry at 12:05:00 PM

HA!

Once more, I emerge from yet another weekend, weary and bleary-eyed, BUT NOT DEFEATED! Well, not a lot defeated. Anyway, a good weekend and you'll get to hear all about Gang Aft Aglae, Seafood (of a Sort), Lace Curtains, Loose Shoes, Why Is It Called Penney's When It Cost So Darned Much, My Insides Turn to Water, I WANT MY BARBIE!, and other assorted tales of an odd life, but I have to go to our staff meeting first, and then I have to type this silly mess up.

SO, check back in a bit.

posted by Terry at 8:22:00 AM

Friday, August 15, 2003

Okay. NOW it's time for my doctor's appointment...

I called just to make sure. I don't look forward to this, mainly because I went out and did a little skullduggery during lunchtime and it's about 266 degrees outside and I got all hot and sweaty from walking all over downtown with fabulous prizes for Miss Reba. Details of which will follow, in due time.

For now, though, it is time to kick off the weekend with a trip to see my health care professional. All of you have a good weekend, and I will see you all in here bright and early Monday, and you will get to hear ALLLLL about my weekend.

Lucky you, eh?

posted by Terry at 2:48:00 PM

Well, this is interesting...

I rely a lot on the feed from AL.com (and its sister organizations) for news and stuff, but since the blackout, they have had to switch to something of a blog format. And even more interesting, the Alabama Live! arm of the organization has set up its own separate blog. Using Blogger! (And not even Blogger-Pro, the poor guys.)

One doesn't want to gloat or anything, so let's just say, 'welcome to the club, fellers.'

(Mac noted this much earlier this morning, but I'm just getting around to figuring out what's going on.)

posted by Terry at 11:30:00 AM

Got home yesterday afternoon and while I waited for Reba to get home with the little kids I got supper started [NOTE FOOD REFERENCES FOLLOWING] which consisted of leftovers—Spanish rice and baked chicken breasts—and the quickest things I could grab out of the freezer, some burritos and some On-Cor Salisbury steak entrees. Oh, and some canned sweet peas out of the pantry. Yes, it sounds DELICIOUS, I know, but all the meat was frozen solider that Otzi the Ice Man, and Rebecca and I had to throw down some sort of chow before traipsing off to soccer practice.

Mom home, kids start slinging book bags around and we quickly do a run down of who has what sort of homework to finish, get their agendas signed, get snacks loaded, and get Middle Girl into her shin guards and cleats. And enjoy a nice bean burrito while standing at the sink! Mmmm. SINK FOOD! Reba came back downstairs from unloading her stuff on the bed, and from having Oldest unload on her about one of her teachers—I have gotten to the point where I can’t even be around when she starts this garbage, but Reba gave me the low-down. “HE IS SO STUPID! HE is supposedtobeour SOCIAL STUDIES teacher, and HE is teaching us about GEOGRAPHY! HE sayswehaveto KNOW aboutGEOGRAPHYandcolorthisstupidMAP!”

::sigh:: Such fury. Such melodrama. Wednesday she was complaining that she had gotten moved to second chair for ONE tune, and that her music teacher told her the reason was that she was horrible and that she stank. Reba was handling that one, too—“Ashley! Do you mean to stand there and tell me that your teacher actually said that?!” Sullenly, “No.” Then the rage cranked back up, “BUT I KNOW SHE THINKS IT!!” ::sigh:: it’s a phase…it’s a phase…it’s a phase…

Honestly folks, all I can tell you is that she doesn’t get this from us. It never seems to occur to her that some subjects might be interrelated. That someone with a master’s degree in music or history might know more than her about teaching (or anything else, for that matter). That there is such a thing as reality. That no matter how stupid you may think the assignment is, YOU STILL HAVE TO DO IT. Which is what Reba told her—“Just do your work.” Hard to argue with that.

Having gotten my fill of teen angst, I fled for the wide open spaces of the soccer park. And the gas station. And the pharmacy. Multitasking, suburban-style.

I dropped Bec out and told her I would be right back, then ran back and filled up Reba’s van with expensive petrochemicals (that still cost only half as much as bottled water), then on up the street a bit more to the CVS. Walked back to the counter, found that they only had one box of the icky ointment for the rash on the back of Reba’s hand, so I have to go back today, AND THEN there was that little mixup with my prescriptions…

I looked down, and even though the writing was upside down, I could see across the top of all three packages that they had given me three prescriptions for something called “PROMI SED”. I kept trying to think what PromiSed might be (sounded like some sort of tranquilizer), but I KNEW it wasn’t something I was supposed to take, much less three different prescriptions for it. “Uhh, sorry, but, my medicine…” I picked up the packages and turned them around to look at the writing right-side-up, “…is not for Prom… Oh. ‘PROMISED FOR 5:00PM’…”

What a friggin’ loon. The cashier looked at me quizzically, I explained that I am an idiot, and I paid my bill.

Still, you gotta think that Promi-Sed would make a good name for a sedative…

Back to the park, get out the folding chair and one of the Road & Tracks that Larry Anderson gave me (yes, I’m still reading them) and my Diet Pepsi and trudge down to the field. Plopped down and immediately started sweating—last night was the first time in a while that it was so nasty and humid. This summer has been very mild, so I shouldn’t complain, and I’m not…but is sure was dank.

The girls were on one half of the field and the Under 16 girls were on the other half, both doing their warm-ups and dribbling drills. Which, no matter what age, is something they hate doing—the older girls had just run back and forth three times across the field and started nagging the coach about wanting to scrimmage—“Coach, can we scrimmage?” “Can we scrimmage with the boys?” “YEAH! Boys without SHIRTS!” I had to laugh at that one. The coach did, too, but he still made them stay put and do their work.

Practice wound down around 8, then it was back to the house, get everyone kissed and tucked in, and then to bed. I want to be well rested for tonight, you know. My mom is going to watch the kids for a few hours, and the Missus and I are going to go kick up our heels a bit and have ourselves a fancy dinner—Part One of Our Anniversary Fun.

I promise not to take my shirt off. At least in the restaurant.

posted by Terry at 11:03:00 AM

Thanks, Sherlock--Blackout Causes Mass Disruption

posted by Terry at 9:06:00 AM

Annnd, if it's not food...

Another report from our Ten Thousand Lakes correspondent, Toni Albani, who wanted to inform all of you of an important upcoming conference on November 7-9 of this year.

All of you please mark your calendars.

posted by Terry at 8:57:00 AM

What is it with you people and food!?

Possumblog's Tasmanian stringer Simon Roberts set Chet the E-Mail Boy to tapping with this one:

Subject: Cheese!

Terry

It's been too long since you've written about food in general and cheese in particular.

Here is a site that may interest you.

http://www.cheesenet.info

Including answers to questions like:

"Limburger: How Old is Too Old?"

..and a Limerick that I barely understand:

In Zürich there is a physician
Who with cheese treats many conditions.
Implanting Sbrinz and Gruyére
Complaints disappear -
Replaced by Raclette dispositions.

One of the great things about having small children who are kind and loving is that they make great straight men. "Catherine, would you like Daddy to cut the cheese?"

"Yes, please."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daddy--cut the cheese NOW!"

Heh. Silly Daddy. Almost as good as when we're driving and they all yell that we just passed a school bus. "Did it hurt, kids?" Always good for puzzled looks.

ANYWAY, back to cheese. As you all know, I am quite the cheese connoisseur. Seems like all of us have our favorites, but I am particulary smitten at the moment with the Nacho version of this. It's rich and flavorful on a saltine, or on your finger. AND it has that great trendy Southwestern flavor! MMmmm! Let me tell you, there's nothing like coming in after a hard day to a big wet gob of pressurized cheese.

posted by Terry at 8:41:00 AM

Remembering VJ Day

posted by Terry at 8:06:00 AM

Thursday, August 14, 2003

New York Official Says Power Grid Overloaded

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - A New York State official said the Niagara Mohawk power grid overloaded on Thursday, causing a massive power outage, CNN reported, and New York Major Michael Bloomberg said it was likely a natural occurrence. [...]

Yep, just like the aurora borealis.

The article goes on to say Bloomberg said there is no evidence of terrorism, which I think is what the reporter was trying to get across. "Electrical malfunction" would probably have been a better term.

Then again, I went to a doctor's appointment a day early, so whadda I know?

posted by Terry at 4:34:00 PM

Love, Suicide, Murder and Other Exciting Things

As told by Cletus!

As an aside, Larry Anderson mentioned in the comments below that the gentlemen from the Barbecue Emporium are all het up about BJ Roberts having a seemingly non-exalted position in the Axis of Weevil blogroll up above, while newcomer Bessemer Jim flounces in and is given one of the corners.

PLEASE REST ASSURED that the blogroll above is not intended in ANY WAY to show favoritism or otherwise serve as an analog of hierarchy within the group. Remember, as an anarcho-syndicalist commune, we take turns about to act as a sort of executive-officer-for-the-week. But, all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting--by a simple majority, in the case of purely internal affairs, but by a two-thirds majority, in the case of more major...ahhh, in any event, everyone's just the same, the only idea was to get the thing to display right at 800 x 600 so that everyone's name stays together and everyone fits in the margins.

As for the barbecue being mislaid, all I can say is that when Benji loaded up the Maverick and headed out, he had a map to the Emporium, and when he got back, he said he gave it and the rest of the Gift Pack to some guy who said his name was Billy Joe. I asked if he was sure it was the SAME Billy Joe Bob, and he said he wasn't sure. Since it appears Mr. Roberts and the boys did miss out on their presents, we will be resending another box of stuff up their way to make up for the mixup.

posted by Terry at 4:18:00 PM

Well, color me wrong all over... Alabama Justice Won't Remove Commandments

By BOB JOHNSON, Associated Press Writer

MONTGOMERY, Ala. - The chief justice of the Alabama Supreme Court said Thursday he will not remove a Ten Commandments monument from the state judicial building, defying a federal court order to remove the granite monument.

"I have no intention of removing the monument," Roy Moore said at a news conference. "This I cannot and will not do." [...]

Got that one wrong--yesterday I said I figured he would grudgingly comply--you know, since being a state Supreme Court chief justice tends to make one think you have a respect for the rule of law and all. That, and the tendency of folks to be, rightfully, more unwilling now to follow the orders of a judge who himself refuses to follow orders from a higher court.

That ugly pile of granite doesn't offend me for any other but aesthetic reasons. Nor should the fact that one of the messages is religious in nature offend anyone--if there was a justice somewhere who decided he was going to post an inflammatory anti-religious 5,280 pound monument in his court, I kind of have a feeling that the ACLU would be all over protecting his right to self-expression. BUT. Failing to comply with a lawful judicial decision simply because you disagree with it is a recipe for trouble. This is the wrong fight, for the wrong reasons.

American political life is hearty enough for speech of all sorts--including that of a religious nature--but this little show of Phariseeism is getting to be a bit much.

posted by Terry at 3:37:00 PM

Celebrity worship can be dangerously addictive: study

Darn. I guess I'll have to throw away all of my Alec Baldwin posters.

posted by Terry at 3:15:00 PM

HOLY CATS!!

You know, it just occurred to me that I have work to do.

UPDATE: AND, it now being noon, I have to go to my doctor's appointment. SO, this will be the extent of my pitiful efforts for today--tune in tomorrow, though, for even more pitiful efforts!

EVEN MORE OF AN UPDATE: AND, now I have gone to lunch and then to the doctor's office, where I found out that I have completely lost all connectivity with reality. I found this out by the stunning news that my appointment is not for today, rather, it is for tomorrow. It was in my calendar for today, but that didn't seem to help. ::sigh::

It sure is hard having a brain the size of a walnut.

posted by Terry at 10:29:00 AM

Extending Alabama’s Cultural Hegemony, One Blog at a Time

As you recall, one of my ever-growing stack of blogchildren by the name of Jim Smith up in East Carolina is eligible for inclusion within the swollen ranks of the Cotton State Internet Gossip and Time-Wasting Society. I was just now sitting here in the Command Center and Miss Jimmi Nell from the Registrar’s Office came in and plopped this into my inbox:

Please accept this application to the Axis of Weevil. I promise to be a good boy and not start any trouble.

Hmm. Well, this looks bad right off the bat…

Please feel free to edit any and all the answers, I did get long winded in some of them.

But as Mel Brooks used to say when he wrote for "Your Show of Shows", it was funny when it left here.

But then again, quoting Mel Brooks is a good move. Now, on with the actual application:

1) Born in, or now live in, or once lived in, or would like to live in, Alabama;

I was born in Bessemer and lived there until I went to graduate school. That is except for some time at Auburn and a few co-op jobs. Those were in interesting places but not relevant for this discussion.

Remember, Jim—in blogwriting, nothing is irrelevant.

2) Not ashamed to admit to #1;

Not ashamed at all. Everyone has to be from somewhere, I might as well come from Alabama.

3) Staunchly anti-idiotarian, or can at least pretend pretty good

I teach in a College of Business, idiotarians do not last long around here.

They bump ‘em up to Administration pretty quick, then, eh?

4) Functionally literate

I must be, everyone else in my high school class who learned to read and write left town. That is except for those with parole restrictions.

5) Don't type in ALL CAPS or all e.e. cummings case or MiXeD

I try to do it right but I have digit dyslexia. Sometimes the fingers just type what they feel.

Well, as long as you don’t start agitating for the company to pay for your dyslexia treatment, this shouldn’t be a problem.

6) Update your blog more than once a month

Have only had it about 3 days but will try.

7) Willing to be made fun of

As a fat boy, called Jimbo, growing up in Bessemer, do you think I had a choice?

8) Willing to make fun of yourself

See above.

9) Have a framed picture of John Moses Browning

Not yet, but I can give you about 10 minutes on why calling Nambu the Browning of Japan is an insult to Mr. Browning. I hope this will do.

I does for now, but I ask that you refrain from ever using the N-word in my presence EVER AGAIN.

10) Personal library must contain more books than you will ever read

No problem there. My library is big and my lips tire easily, as I get older.

11) Must be able to recite Monty Python and the Holy Grail and give an episode synopsis of all Andy Griffith shows from memory

This is a tough application.

Keeps out the riff-raff.

My first thought was to run away, run away, run away. No problem with the first one here, O' woodland companion of fierce rabbits. You know, it is getting harder to teach when your students have no Monty Python reference.

That is why it is incumbent on you, as a shaper of young minds, to ensure that your charges understand and come to fully appreciate the subtle grandeur of Finland.

I live in North Carolina now, do you really think I could get away with not being up to date on my Andy? An Andy test was part of the pre-employment package. Well truthfully, you could select one of two tests: Andy or college basketball. Being from Alabama and coming here from Mississippi, I took the Andy test.

The multiple choice part was easy but the essay portion was a b***h.

Bough? Brush?

When was the last time you traced the development of western individualism from Ernest T. Bass back to Locke, Hume and Mill, with a side trip to Rousseau. All of that from a few broken lights.

Is Rousseau anywhere near Mount Pilot?

The two funniest things ever done were the Andy pickle episode and the dead parrot bit. Sorry I went overboard here.

Not to worry. Overboard is the new black.

12) Your pickup truck must be in good working order; use of ether to get it started is not recommended, but will be allowed on a case-by-case basis

Is this a trick question to see if I answered # 1 truthfully? Of course, I have a truck and it is a Ford. Just a Ranger but I hope it will grow.

Well, funny you say that, because I just got an e-mail from a nice doctor promising he can make your Ranger 3-5 inches longer. I’ll forward it to you. So to speak.

Having a truck is programmed into my DNA, just like the overwhelming desire to go to Sears and fondle the Craftsman tools. Sort of like salmon going back up stream I think.

Hmmm. Looks like somebody is going to have to read up on the office sexual harassment manual. No tool fondling, no spawning. It makes other workers uncomfortable in the workplace.

BUT, despite that, Professor Smith seems to be an imminently well qualified addition to the Alabama Blog Rodeo, SO THEN, by the mighty power vested in me by the Carcass Removal Division of the Alabama Department of Transportation, it is with GREAT PRIDE that we, the mighty and fearsome Axis of Weevil do HEREBY grant one Jim Smith, writer of Unfreezing, full, complete, impartial, non-negotiable, insouciant, and void where prohibited by law Membership, with all of the pain and slight nerve damage devolving thereto.

CONGRATULATIONS, Jimbo, and in celebration of your new status, you will be receiving the World Famous Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, containing a slab of Dreamland ribs (no carbs), a gallon jug of Milo's sweet tea (95% carbs); a G-Lox Wedgee gun rack from Mark's Outdoor Sports for your Ranger, a package of Bubba's Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County—and has no carbs); a three piece, 24 ounce box of Priester's Pecan Logs (all carbs); a box of Jim Dandy grits (all carbs); a 16 ounce bottle of Dale's Steak Sauce (all salt); AND a six pack of Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale (carbs, too).

As an added bonus, you will receive a package of twelve greeting cards designed by our very own Jimmy (from next door, not Jimmy from Accounting) whose “condition” has abated sufficiently to allow him to expand his rock-painting business to include handcrafted stationery. He asks only that you ignore the letterhead on the reverse side, as the paper was given to him by the insurance company when they changed names.

Remember to stop by the supply closet and pick up a pack of pencils and some paper, and remember that if you leave anything in the refrigerator more than a day or two, Cindi will throw it right in the garbage can. (She has problems, you know.) You can park over by the storage shed for right now, until we get the plumber to come back and finish fixing the sewer line. There is a spare key to the door in the back by the stack of tires, but don’t tell anybody.

NOW, all of you please feel free to run over and say hey to Jim!

posted by Terry at 9:56:00 AM

Some may ask…

“Terry, why exactly do you continue to produce Possumblog?” Constant positive reinforcement, dear reader—getting a letter like the following (written by an AOL user who wishes to remain anonymous) makes it all worthwhile:

Subject: What a neat site. Like GRIT magazine, but better.

Saw your site, and the “fear no weevil” inspired me to share this with you:

There was Mama Mole, Papa Mole, and Baby Mole living in a narrow-holed burrow. Papa Mole scurries to the opening, pops his head out; “Mmmmm, I smell honey!” he said. Mama Mole tightly squeezes past him and sniffs about. "Mmmmm, I smell maple syrup!" she said. Finally, Baby Mole pushes and shoves to no avail, trying to get to the opening. “Nuts!”, cries he. “All I can smell is mole-asses!”

See?! With readers like this, how could I ever stop? And to be compared favorably to The GRIT!! Take THAT, Steve Den Beste!! In your FACE, Glenn Reynolds!!

TOP O’THE WORLD, MA!! TOP O’THE WORLD!!! AHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Er, ahem…well. Anyway, thanks to each of you who take the time to write in.

posted by Terry at 8:13:00 AM

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

Swinging for the Fences

Possumblog's Gopher State Reporter, Toni Albani, just got Chet the E-Mail Boy hopping (or, a reasonable fascimile thereof) with this missive:

Subject: IRS

[...] I recently had to change the name of the Trustee for my company's 401k plan. So the appropriate form was completed, signed and sent off to the IRS. Got a letter back acknowledging receipt and record update for this change.

The IRS letter was signed by a fellow who was the Manager from Document Perfection Operations. Can you imagine someone was paid a salary to think up the name of this function! [...]

Heh. Well, as I told Miss Toni, you at least have to give them credit for dreaming big.

As for what this bunch actually does, the best thing I could find was from the Cincinnati Service Center, in (naturally) Covington, Kentucky. Page 5 of their handy manual tells us that after your tax return comes in and is opened and sorted and batched that:

[...] The batched returns go to Document Perfection Branch, where tax examiners check for completeness and obvious errors and then code and edit the return for transcription by employees in the Data Conversion Branch. Certain conditions require the tax examiner to send the return back and/or to correspond with the taxpayer: missing signatures, SSN’s, or Forms W-2, for example. Many refunds are delayed each year because returns cannot be processed but must be sent back for missing information. [...]

Somehow, I think that "perfection" may still be a bit of an overstatement...

(By the way, Chet thought you all might like a photo of him as a youngster with his favorite keyset.)

posted by Terry at 4:32:00 PM

Lunch!

Which was actually a while ago now--but what the hey. Anyway, Miss Reba and I have lately been taking nuclear meals to work to try and economize a bit, but today the freezer had run dry so we hied up to Roly Poly for some rolled up meat and bread.

Good stuff, as usual--we got the Buffalo Chicken and the Rueben, and today sat in the outdoor area.

Sidewalk dining is one of those things that sophisticated people do, you know. Only the very sophisticated will eschew a clean and perfectly good air-conditioned building in the summertime South to sit outside among the flies and blowing trash and bus exhaust and truck noise and dirt and screaming panhandlers to experience some sort of commune with nature. Which consists of a nice row of shrubbery that smells muchly of pee.

But doggone it, the sidewalk's where all the interesting stuff happens! Also makes our favorite activity of people-watching much easier. Today's feature presentation was a couple sitting across from us.

He--old, uncomfortable, struggling to be stylish with his powder blue pinstriped shirt with white color; she--young enough to be his mistress, self-possessed, sleekly anorexic, dressed completely in an expensive black silk shirt and snug black slacks and uncomfortable black strappy shoes and black leather backpack purse, all of which must have come straight from New York. Or maybe even Atlanta.

They sat and ate and chatted, but there was just an incredibly weird vibe--both seemed so out of kilter. The exaggerated speed of conversation, with every reaction stilted and every body motion out of synch, made it look like they were trying very hard to appear normal. Trying to look normal never works.

I got Reba's attention and did my ventriloquist's act of pointing with my eyes and mumbling with my mouth closed. "Whatd'youthink'sthedealwiththem?" She casually took a bite and watched for a bit, and she went through the possibles: Boss/Employee? Nah, she'd never work for him, nor him for her. Father/Daughter? Right ages, but she keeps leaning toward him ever too close. Lawyer/Client? Not at all--no brief case, which means the lunch wouldn't be billable hours. Just Friends? Well, could be, I suppose. But they act like they don't know each other. The Only Other Alternative? Well, after he studiously picked up her backpack purse off the concrete and put it on the table while she was throwing away her garbage, I figure there's probably something there; which, while in the spirit of seeing interesting things in the great outdoors, still gives me the creeps.

THEN AGAIN, others who were forced to witness me smooch on Miss Reba as I sent her back to work may have experiences a similar sense of unease--"How in the world did HE get HER?!"

Good ol' divine intervention, my friend. (And pheromones. And good eye/hand coordination. And surprise.)

Anyway, whatever the reason, remember that I am still looking for good suggestions as to what should be given her for our upcoming twelfth anniversary--the final result will be revealed Monday morning. (Ooooh--it's my own version of a FOX reality show!!)

posted by Terry at 3:40:00 PM

Crouchy [sic] Old Yorkie Lady delves into the mental machinations of the idiot fringe, and is forced to respond.

The tinfoil hat brigade certainly have an easier time of back-predicting the future than the rest of us, you know. One thing I can just about guarantee you is that the 2004 popular vote will not be quite so close as that in 2000. Just call it a hunch. Or a crouch.

posted by Terry at 2:33:00 PM

Saudi Raids Uncover Network of Extremists

Wow. I just can't believe it. And in Saudi Arabia, of all places.

posted by Terry at 2:18:00 PM

Fritz Goes A'Shopping...

And starts singing the Zoom-Zoom-Zoom song while accompanying himself on the Ed Grimley Signature Edition Triangle. A startling sight for the folks in Rehobeth, to be sure. I just hope he didn't pass on the cool alloys.

Fritz dropped in the other day and got the Possumblog Road Test Review of his proposed new toy before plunking down his hard earned cash. I think the Protege (pronounced pro-TEE-GEE) is a very handsome little car, although I really like the Mazdaspeed version the most. (Except without the ridiculous boy racer rear wing.)

I also noted to Fritz that if he could wait, the new Mazda 3 will be coming out in the fall--interesting because it will share architecture with the Ford Focus, which is interesting because it's possible to shoehorn a Windsor in one and drive the back end of it, the way God intended.

Fritz was unimpressed, I think.

posted by Terry at 1:44:00 PM

Malaysia says don't cook, wash in toilets

KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia (AP) -- Officials in a southern Malaysian state will soon enforce a new law that forbids people to wash clothes, cook or light a fire in public toilets, a news report said Wednesday.

The law will allow fines of up to 1,000 ringgit (US $263) for anyone deemed to have abused restroom facilities, said Low Boon Hong, a government official in Johor state, 300 miles south of Kuala Lumpur.

Offenses under the law include failing to flush, vandalism, spitting and littering — as well as more irregular behavior in toilets such as bathing, cooking, washing clothes and lighting fires, Low was quoted as saying by the Bernama national news agency.

But you know, a Potty Grill would be kinda handy--it sure would be easy to just pull the handle and put out the fire and flush the ashes, all at the same time!

I may install one of these out on the patio.

Or should I say, 'the potty-o'? No, probably not.

posted by Terry at 11:25:00 AM

Moore to announce monument decision on Thursday

MONTGOMERY, Ala. (AP) -- Supreme Court Chief Justice Roy Moore will announce Thursday whether he plans to obey a federal court order and remove the Ten Commandments monument from the rotunda of the Alabama Judicial Building.

U.S. District Judge Myron Thompson has said he may fine the state if the 5,300-pound monument is not removed by Aug. 20. Thompson last year found that the monument is an unconstitutional recognition of religion by the state. That ruling has been upheld by the 11th U.S. Court of Appeals.

Moore has argued Thompson does not have the authority to order him to remove the monument. But he has not said if he will defy Thompson's order. [...]

I look for him to grudgingly comply. There will be much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth (and I am not speaking figuratively), but in the end he will probably realize that if he can flout a higher court's decision, someone might turn around and do the same to the Alabama Supreme Court. Not that anyone would ever disagree with one of their decisions.

posted by Terry at 11:13:00 AM

Police say methamphetamine lab found at site of house fire

ROBERTSDALE, Ala. (AP) -- Police arrested a man inside a house when firefighters responding to a report of smoke spotted items used in the manufacture of methamphetamine [...]

Well, you know what they say, 'where there's smoke, there's probably some goob in there cooking meth.'

At least I think that's what they say.

posted by Terry at 10:59:00 AM

Techss begin task of fixing worm's damage

Oh my! The damage was even worse than feared--looks like it hit spellcheck, too!!

Everyone knows it should be "techses"...

posted by Terry at 10:54:00 AM

Not Everybody Loves "Raymond"

Maybe not, but judging by the number of hits I get from people looking for photographs of one or more of Patricia Heaton's unclothed and newly renovated breasteses, I think they could get by just fine without Ray.

(I also get way too many hits from pervgooglers looking for her toes. And ears. Just a tip, guys. Something called "Possumblog" is probably NOT the place to look.)

posted by Terry at 10:46:00 AM

Adventures in Headline Writing

From that punk new kid Jim Smith over at Unfreezing (who really would like for you to drop by and say hello, by the way. That is, if he's not out playing GOLF instead of blogging), comes the following headline--State Leaders Hear Complaints Of Racism At Eastern N.C. School For Deaf.

Reminds me of the old ditty-- "I see, I see," said the blind man to his deaf wife as he picked up his hammer and saw.

posted by Terry at 10:03:00 AM

Get to work at 6:55...

Log in, set up conference room, set handy agendas at each chair, lovingly place sign-in sheet at the office door on top of our high-tech, Height Adjustable Mobile Dictation Station/Padded Buttocks Levitation Device (aka my drafting stool, which I roll out to the door for people to use as a desk), start meeting at 7:30, furiously scribble notes to capture the blab spoken by eleven committee members, nine staff members, and nineteen applicants each speaking simultaneously for an hour and a half, clean up the snowstorm of paper after it's over, retrieve my sign-in sheet, wheel my chair back to my orifice, and now at 9:22, I'd say it's time to go downstairs and purchase a beverage!

Complaining? Not at all--having done my time as a punch press operator in a steel fab shop and pulling a wooden concrete screed for a roadway contractor--I am quite sure that although there may be better ways to earn a buck, there are about a billion others that are a whole lot harder!

I'm still going to go get me a Coke, though.

posted by Terry at 9:27:00 AM

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

You know...

It's probably not a good idea to shop for particular sorts of anniversary presents on something other than your home computer.

Oh well.

Anyway, until the commenting thingamabob comes back on (you'd think they would at least give you a test pattern like back in the old television days) I am going to do some more searching for filmy, flimsy fabrics. Tough work, let me say.

AND TOMORROW MORNING will be one of those regular bureacratic endeavors that come up twice a month, so I will be nonblogatory until such time as I can make every good citizen angry with me. You're welcome to wander around all you want, but please be sure to leave your shoes at the door. And the lamp by the couch has a bad switch, so be careful turning it on. There is some slice cheese in the refrigerator if you want a sandwich. Only end pieces of bread, though--I have to go to the store. SO, until I get back...

posted by Terry at 3:57:00 PM

From your good friends at HaloScan (We Suck Almost As Much as Blogger Used To!!) this message:

Server work in progress

We are currently working with our host to correct some problems that came up this morning. Commenting may be offline for brief periods as we work. Thanks for your patience. - 8/12/2003

You know, I resisted putting comments on here with a mighty passion, and after finally deciding to do it, found that it was a nice addition. UNTIL IT BECAME ONE GIANT CHARLIE FOXTROT ALL THE TIME!! Sheesh.

ANYway, for those gentle readers who wish to offer suggestions for 12th Anniverary gifts for me to give to the lovely Miss Reba, please send them to me via old fashioned e-mail and I will post them.

BE WARNED, however, that Chet the E-Mail Boy has somewhat of a weak constitution, so if you use words like "heaving" or "throbbing" or "moist", he is apt to require a trip to the fire station to have his blood pressure checked.

posted by Terry at 2:17:00 PM

Schwarzenegger uses star-power strategy

GOOD GRIEF, THE MAN'S A GENIUS!! Who would have ever thought a celebrity running for political office would use his name-recognition to his advantage?!

posted by Terry at 1:05:00 PM

Celebrities Protest Mass. Wind Farm

If only there was a way to harvest wind energy from celebrities...

posted by Terry at 12:56:00 PM

From the "Perpetuating the Stereotype" File:

Married couple in Theodore plead innocent to incest charge

The Associated Press
8/12/2003, 11:21 a.m. CT

MOBILE, Ala. (AP) -- A man and woman who married in May, then were accused in July of being father and daughter, have pleaded innocent to incest.

Carroll Ferdinandsen, 53, and his wife, Alice Ferdinandsen, 30, entered the pleas Monday in circuit court. They also pleaded innocent to second-degree forgery in connection with their marriage.

Trial was set for Oct. 8.

The Ferdinandsens remain in the Mobile County Metro Jail under more than $10,000 in bonds each. The bonds include charges of animal cruelty that were filed after authorities said a dead bird, dead dogs and ailing animals were found at the couple's trailer home in Theodore. They have pleaded innocent to the animal cruelty charges.

Information from: The Mobile Register

The State contends that simply because Daughter Wife changed her birth certificate to conceal the identity of her Daddy Beau, she is guilty of some sort of crime. Go figure.

posted by Terry at 12:39:00 PM

A slow day...

And I just don't have a whole lot to talk about. SO, let's do something sorta dangerous...

There is a woman I have had my eye on for a while--dark blonde, about 5 and a half feet tall, blue eyes, high cheekbones, nicely padded, and judging by the hardware on her left ring finger...very married.

She works here in town not far from where I do. The other day I was out walking to lunch and saw her walking up the street toward me, and I must confess that I had some very naughty thoughts about her, and I think she caught on, because she gave me that look that women give you when they know you're thinking very naughty thoughts about them. ::blush::

Now then--if you were me, and you wanted to get this woman, say...a gift of some sort. And let's say that you and she had been married, ohhh, about twelve years on Saturday. And the traditional gifts are silk/linen, and the modern ones are pearl. And let's just say that this woman thinks that you are a quite a romantic rake, and let's say that over the years you have set a rather high standard for yourself when it comes to gifts. Gifts which, on certain past occasions, have caused this woman to act in a somewhat randy fashion toward you. And finally, you know that this woman has never read a single thing you ever posted on your blog, so whatever musings you muse won't be discovered by her (at least until it's too late).

WHAT THEN, old chap (or chapette, as the case may be), would you get for such a woman as a gift?

posted by Terry at 11:53:00 AM

Oh, that silly James Lileks!

It's funny sometimes the things he comes up with--in today's Bleat he does a riff on Sambo's:

[...] But before we went for breakfast at the old Sambo’s. It hasn’t been Sambo’s for a long time. And even when it was Sambo’s, the mascot wasn’t that dreadful pickaninny archetype - this Sambo was an Indian child. That always made me wonder why they named the place Sambo’s at all.

Gentlemen, I propose a nationwide chain of restaurants based after an old story about a clever colored boy. We’ll call it Sambo’s.

Fine, boss, but that’s not going to go over well. In the North, anyway. Why don’t we make him an Indian child? I mean India Indian.

Brilliant! Little Brahmin Sambo. Our dinner values are Untouchable![...]

Surely he knows that the popular stereotype of Sambo as being African was NOT the intent of the author, Helen Bannerman. Here is the preface to LBS, from the Project Gutenburg site:

[...] The Story of Little Black Sambo
By Helen Bannerman

PREFACE

There is very little to say about the story of LITTLE BLACK SAMBO. Once upon a time there was an English lady in India, where black children abound and tigers are everyday affairs, who had two little girls. To amuse these little girls she used now and then to invent stories, for which, being extremely talented, she also drew and coloured the pictures. Among these stories LITTLE BLACK SAMBO, which was made up on a long railway journey, was the favourite; and it has been put into a DUMPY BOOK, and the pictures copies as exactly as possible, in the hope that you will like it as much as the two little girls did. [...]

No word on if the restaurant uses butter made from melted tigers.

posted by Terry at 10:19:00 AM

Monday, August 11, 2003

And with a great heave…

Yet another Possumbaby hits the scene!

Through my striking combination of suave charm and an entire tankful of nitrous oxide, I have once more convinced another unwary soul to enter the foul stink of Bloglandia and start his own site—long time reader Jim Smith has gone and done it now with Unfreezing, which Jim promises will be about changes. (And I’m almost certain his first correspondence will be from admirers telling him to change to something other than Blogger!)

Jim and I have corresponded for a long time now and I think you will find he’s a good guy—he is eligible for the Axis of Weevil, you know, but has asked that I not do the Grand Induction just yet until he gets things sorted out with his site. I readily agreed, knowing that although I promised to belay the order for a new Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, I SAID NOTHING about not just giving him a friendly plug! Heh. I’m sneaky like that.

ANYWAY, until Raynelle gets the application processed and we get the key made to the storage closet at the Weevil World Headquarters, all of you scamper over and see what Jim has to say.

posted by Terry at 3:24:00 PM

Hey! SHE'S BACK!!

Sadly, without a Tingler OR Fabio, so I know Miss Janis will be upset.

posted by Terry at 3:08:00 PM

Antipodean Alliteration--Absolutely positively perfect possum plan

By Miriam Meister

It has been all out war on the Miramar Peninsula for the past six months and it looks as if the authorities are winning.

Greater Wellington Regional Council and Wellington City Council have joined forces to rid the area of possums and so far it seems that locals could be hearing a lot more native bird song come springtime, thanks to the rapidly dwindling number of the destructive pests.

Greater Wellington biosecurity officer Ken Wright says it should be possible to completely eradicate possums from the area because of the peninsula’s unique geography; it is surrounded by water and the Kilbirnie isthmus connecting it with the mainland is heavily populated and therefore doesn’t harbour many possums. [...]

Oy, Sheila--possums may be stupid, filthy, pests (expecially the Australian brushy tailed variety) but at least we know that a peninsula is not surrounded by water!

Mr Wright says the campaign aims at total eradication but admits that as the very last one will be hard to find, the successful outcome heavily relies on local residents to report when they see a possum.

Sightings can be reported to Greater Wellington on 526 5327.

Time to stop rummaging through garbage cans and start gnawing through telephone lines, sounds like to me.

Once the last pest has been removed from the peninsula Mr Wright says the likelihood of re-invasion is quite small.

“Ultimately we will maintain the Outer Town Belt to protect the inner-city suburbs from possum.” [...]

I never knew possum was both singular and plural, but in the end it doesn't really matter IF THERE AREN'T ANY!! (They could at least have the decency to run over them instead of poisoning them.)

Thanks to Mac the Fauna Loving War Liberal for the link.

posted by Terry at 3:02:00 PM

One of the bad things...

...about not doing a whole lot of Internet surfing on the weekends is that sometimes you just completely miss a whole set of perfectly good stories about weddings and advice to the love-worn!

posted by Terry at 2:05:00 PM

One for Stan the Gummint Man...Social Security center gets OK

MICHAEL TOMBERLIN
News staff writer

The U.S. Senate's Environmental and Public Works Committee gave final approval last week for a new Southeast service center for the Social Security Administration in Birmingham.

The committee's resolution allows SSA to spend up to $16.5 million over the next 20 years leasing up to 587,528 square feet of space.

"As a longtime supporter of this project, I believe the recent Senate committee approval for this new facility is a major step forward for Birmingham," Sen. Richard Shelby, R-Alabama, said Thursday through a spokeswoman. "I will continue to work with the Office of Management and Budget, local officials and the General Services Administration as we navigate the final steps to make the Social Security center a reality."

Shelby was traveling out of the country on banking committee business.

GSA is already soliciting proposals from private developers looking to build the building with a government-guaranteed lease. The projected cost of a building meeting the government's criteria is between $150 million and $175 million.

The five-story building and adjacent 1,750-space parking deck will be built in the block between Eighth and Ninth avenues North and between 12th and 14th streets.

Though SSA can rent up to 588,000 square feet, that space does not include common areas, meaning the total square footage of the building will likely exceed 600,000 square feet. [...]

This follows on the heels of the recently announced plan for the FBI to move into new digs, and should be good news to Regular SSA Reader Stan who works in the current building.

The site in question is right down the block from me and is another one of those that has been in the hopper for a while, and another one that I have done a couple of sketches for. Like the FBI building, it requires a large open area compared to the footprint of the building, which is not the most pedestrian-friendly thing to have, but it does have the benefit of being located in an area that could use some activity. It's what we call The Armpit, which is where Interstate 59/20 makes a large loop to connect in with I-65. The site (which you should be able to see in this MapQuest aerial photo if it doesn't do its normal thing of messing up) is also thankfully free of beautiful historic buildings.

In 1969, Birmingham's Terminal Station was demolished in anticipation of the Social Security Administration placing a building there. The building that actually got built is the one where Stan works today. The site of the Terminal Station has remained a vacant lot underneath the Red Mountain Expressway.

posted by Terry at 1:34:00 PM

And now for something compleatly different...

My first post on Friday morning, I mistakenly wrote about a news report I THOUGHT I had heard about one of Richard Scrushy's lawyers being dismissed, and came up with a completely wrong name--I contacted Wendy Garner with the station and she set me straight, so the post has been corrected.

I also told Miss Wendy I sure was glad she was back, and she very graciously thanked me for the watching. Little does she know the effect such minor kindnesses have upon me...

posted by Terry at 1:10:00 PM

Well, now, that went pretty well

Friday was a blur of blurriness, brought on by a condition the medical journals call “Brain Blurriness”, indicated by extreme fatigue, tiredness, listlessness, ennui, blurriness, and torpor. I remember we had supper, and there was some laundry in there, and then there was blessed sleep. I thought long and hard about disconnecting the phone—I even felt around on the back for the power cord, and then felt that pang of guilt about it all. I mean, so what if relatives call and wake me up? It’ll be good for me to get up, right?! I just left the phone alone, and prayed I would get enough shuteye.

Phone rings. ::sigh:: Pitch black, I answer, mother in law. ::sigh:: I look over at the clock—9 a.m. Why is it so dark? So I turn to her as we stand in line at the counter, and we carry on a conversation on our respective handsets, standing there facing each other as we wait our turn. I notice that even though the shop is dark, through the venetian blinds there are tons of people walking on the sidewalk, which make me tired, so I lie on the floor for a bit as my mother in law continues to chat. AAARGGHH!! Stupid STUPID dream!

I woke myself up enough to see that it was indeed still dark, although morningish. GRR. And went back to a fitful sleep. That lasted until I felt Reba bungee out of bed and heard her rustling Catherine to the potty. ‘I might as well jusssgehhhhtottathhheee…’ [insert image of little Xs over my eyes as I drift back off] Which lasts about until CRASH-SKREEEEE-WHAM-TINKLETINKLE-WHUMP-SKIIIIITCH exactly 7 a.m.

Real time, this time, no dream. Reba’s downstairs fixing breakfast. Just like her mother does, with maximum pan-whangage so that the whole house is briskly awakened. She was in the drawer under the stove pawing through the muffin pans and cooling racks and cookie sheets and skillets and all the other percussion instruments. Why she and her mom do this, I do not know. Her mother could wake the dead with her rummaging and slamming about in the kitchen, and I guess that arcane knowledge just got passed along. The food’s always good, but it sure is loud.

I started to go back to sleep, but figured I might as well not fight it. Up, pee, shave, take medicine, brush teeth, pants on, look at the computer for a minute, watch the news, mumble at kids, creak down the stairs and see pretty wife eating a bowl of cereal. I gave her a good one and got myself some milk and drew open the blinds so I could watch the hummingbirdies and sat down and said hey. “Burnt up the bottom element this morning.” “Huh?” “In the oven. The bottom element flamed up like a welding torch. I was going to make muffins this morning. But I couldn’t.”

“Hmm. Have to get that fixed.”

“Yeah, because I was going to cook some muffins this morning. But I couldn’t. Because the oven wasn’t working.” I sat there looking out the window for the longest time, watching the little buzz bombs work the feeder, drinking my milk, watching the TV.

*ping*

Oh. OH!

“Hey, you want me to get something and fix the oven RIGHT NOW, don’t you?!”

“Well, I started to come wake you up, but I figured I would wait until you got downstairs. But it would be nice to be able to use my oven.”

Ladies. Please. If you want something fixed, please just say “Fix This”. You really don’t have to be subtle about it—just come on out and say it. Remember, boys are like hammers—we may be very useful, but we are rather dense, and we can’t read minds.

So, after reading the tea leaves and finally discerning the signs of my future, I brightly wagered that one of the plethora of hardware stores around our lovely burg would most surely have a range element. You know, because I’m sorta stupid that way.

Finished my milk, added AA size batteries and nutgrassicide and bird seed to the shopping list, yanked out the burnt-up element, put on my Officially Licensed Bedhead Concealment Device and was off to Home Depot.

Okeedoke—batt’ries, seed, no chemicals, annnnd, no element. WHA? They had tons of burner eyes, but no oven deals. I carried around my little burnt up part and finally found a guy—“Do you ha…” “No sir, we don’t carry those, but Lighting and Lamp up the road here does, and Mayer Electric, and there’s some applicance place out in Gardendale that carries them.” ::sigh::

Paid for my seed and batteries, then decided that surely he was just overlooking the obvious. There’s a Lowe’s less than a quarter of a mile away, and I bet anything he was just trying not to steer me to a competitor. Out to the van, off to Lowe’s. Who don’t carry range elements, either. Shoulda known.

An interesting aside is that even though they didn’t carry oven elements, I did happen across Little Baby Smoking Girl over in the plumbing supplies. Little Baby Smoking Girl is the name I gave to a girl that Reba and I used to see all the time downtown when we would go to lunch. The first time I saw her, she was walking away from us and I nudged Reba and whispered, “Look at that little kid smoking!” Some time later, we saw her again, this time from the front, and even though she tops out at 4 feet and a few inches, she quite obviously weren’t no little kid. But, boy, she could burn up a pack of Camels. Anyway, her nickname became Little Baby Smoking Girl, and I steadfastly refused every opportunity to go up to her and tell her smoking would stunt her growth. We haven’t seen her in a long time, so it was good to see that she still exists. (If for no other reason than it makes interesting blogfiller.)

ANYway, off to Lighting and Lamp. Who are closed on Saturday. Grr. Then on to Mayer Electric. Who are closed on Saturday. GRR. Then finally on to home, which was open. Hauled out the phone book, and thank goodness, the first place I called, Southeastern Appliance Service in East Lake was 1) open, and more importantly 2) had the right thing. Off again.

(Wind Rider, a shout out to you here, because Southeastern sits at the corner of First Avenue and 76th Street, right next door to the dirty movie theater and the dirty book store, and right across the street from your favorite eating place, Andrew’s Barbecue!)

Parked in the back by the tiny loading dock, walked up the old steps and saw an older fellow with his name on his pocket and a younger guy who looked a bit like the Unabomber. I held up my now bent and forlorn oven element—“I need one of these, please.”

“You want one all burnt up like that?”

Ahhh…a real character. Been in the business a jillion years, heard every complaint, developed a line of patter for each one.

I stopped in my tracks and looked down a bit, and began to study the wire loop in front of me. After a good while, I looked up at him and carefully said, “No…no sir, I think I might better get me one that ain’t all broke.” “Well, we can fix you up then—awful hard to make biscuits like that!” Yep, chief, if you only knew…

We walked into the front of the store, which didn’t appear to have changed since 1966. He went over to a pegboard full of parts and held up the element to several before coming up with one. Which was decidedly a different shape and length as the one I brought in. The cashier lady roused up and wrote out a receipt—“I’m the one who had called a little earlier, ma’am, with the Kitchen-Aid?” “Yes.” “Well, I was just looking at this new element—it looks a bit different from this one, and I was just wonder…” “It’s the same one.” “Uh. Okay then.” I had my doubts.

She totaled up the bill—34 bucks and some change. Whew! Derned things must be made out of gold. Which I had none of. I told her I might have to go get some cash and stood there counting out what I had in my billfold, which came up about ten shy of where I needed to be. ::sigh:: “I’ll be right back, ma’am.” [redacted portion of unverbalized vile language] Walked back out the shop and met up with the Name Tag Guy—“Did they get you fixed up so you can cook you some cornbread?” In so many words, no. Jumped in the van and whipped around to the SouthTrust two doors down. No ATM. (Bad neighborhood—who in their right mind would stop there anyway?) Then on down the street to the CVS Pharmacy, where I picked up a bag of peanuts and a cold drink and got enough change back to get my stove fixed.

Back to the shop, back in the back door, once more exchange banter with Name Tag Guy, go to counter, hand over my money, receive my not-quite-the-same part, and meet up with the Unabomber coming around the corner—“Well, looks like you’re going to be able to cook up a nice batch of biscuits, now!” I resisted the urge to say that I was going to cook my neighbor’s springer spaniel, and it was back to the house.

I just KNEW it wasn’t going to fit—it was about an inch longer toward the front of the oven and I figured it would hit the door, but HALLELUIAH, the silly thing still fit and it worked and there was GREAT JOY IN ALL OF THE KITCHEN. Amen.

Then on to the rest of the day, which included feeding the birds and other vermin, picking and eating a couple of Jonathan’s tomatoes (which are fantastic, by the way), cleaning, folding clothes, moving stuff out of the kitchen floor so Reba could mop, and watching Some Like It Hot on DVD in fits and starts all afternoon. (You know, I don’t know if any of you have ever noticed this, but that Marilyn Monroe girl was real attractive. And despite the attempts of some to say she was a porker—here’s a nice debunking from Snopes for you! And here’s one about her NOT having six toes.) Anyway, I love that movie—then again, I like Jell-O on springs, too.

Supper, then kids scrubbed and hair dried—this is the first time I’ve gotten to do Middle Girl and Cat’s fur since they got it all sheared off—what a dream. Dry and tangle-free in ten minutes! Off to bed, and time to collapse.

Up again Sunday, get the crew rousted, shove some breakfast down them, then out the door. Class—I gave myself the 5th and 6th grade this quarter—all girls, with an occasional stray from the other species. They’re at a good age, and mostly still respectful of adults. And Rebecca’s in there, too, which makes it fun. She is always amazed when I throw out some bits of Greek or write it on the board. “Daddy, do you speak Grecian?” Heh. “No, sugar, I just know some words and how to spell some of them.” “Oh. Well, how do you know all those words!?” “Well, you have to STUDY!” “Oh. Okay, then!”

One year, your child thinks you’re the most brilliant, most handsome man alive. Wait two, and you’re on the same level as a planarian. ::sigh::

Class over, on to sermon, kids remain blessedly wiggle-free for most of the time, then time to go, pack us all in and start to leave and are assaulted by two little five-year-old demons hiding in the bushes who sling a handful of gravel at Miss Reba’s vehicle. Same two who have become synonymous with the terms “lack of parental control” and “uncontrollable brats” around the building. They basically run wild while their parents stand around inside and chat. Grr.

I stopped and got out, and they had started running back to the other part of the parking lot. I got back in and started backing up the driveway, and then saw in my mirror one of our friends hauling them back toward the building by their arms. Heh. She’s as sweet as can be, and has a couple of girls herself who can be quite a handful, too, but she can also make a dandy Grand Inquisitor, which they weren't at all expecting. (She also cuts her own firewood.)

Torquemama stopped them by the side of the van and gently told them to tell Mr. Oglesby what they had done and that they were sorry. They immediately blamed each other and denied doing anything wrong, which turned out to be the exact wrong answer. She pressed them and finally they relented that yes, rocks had somehow managed to get in their hands; and yes, those rocks did manage to leave said hands with vigor; and yes, they might have impacted the side of my vehicle, as well as several other vehicles which left the parking lot behind mine; and yes, in those circumstances some might say they were wrong; and yes—ooh, here comes the dad of one. The prisoner will most certainly be scolded for at least thirty seconds before being allowed to roam free once again. The other kid’s mom was still inside, so after a few more seconds of fruitless interrogation, he was led into the building to face a stern glance and a finger wag. ::sigh:: I closed the door and the kids were about beside themselves—Catherine spouted off first, “Them those there boys shouldn’t have oughta done throwed those rocks AT OUR VAN!!” “Catherine, what would have happened to you if you were out there throwing rocks?” “I woulda gotted my butt tored up!!” Indeed.

They continued on discussing their own ideas of the level of punishment the boys would receive, and to a one they decided it would be negligible. All of that went by the wayside because it was time to eat. New place this week (and actually, for the past two weeks)—a tiny little storefront Chinese place called Golden Gate. The food was better this week, and the few tables they had were packed. I miss our old place there in Trussville with the Inexplicable Anglo Waitresses, but this one has the advantage of being cheap and on the way. And it has Sriracha! A new one on me in my ongoing quest for hot sauces, it’s made by Huy Fong, Inc. in California and it’s mighty good. Hot, but not inedible, with just a touch of sweet. And it comes in an entertaining giant bottle with all sorts of foreign writing on it! (Alas, none of it Greek)

Full, we went on home, read the paper, played on the computer a bit, then back to church, answered questions from the mom of one of the boys—yes, the precious little darling actually had rocks in his hand; yes, he actually threw them; yes, he actually hit our van; yes, he half-heartedly said he was sorry before blaming the other kids…you know, why would you not believe it if someone went to the trouble to haul your kid in from outside, all the way to you, and then proceeded to tell you he had been out throwing rocks at cars? Anyway, home again, supper, and beddie-bye.

And now I’m here today!!

posted by Terry at 12:43:00 PM

Friday, August 08, 2003

Week End Fun

Oh, who knows what's going to go on?!

This past week has been a real high-water mark for testing the "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" theory. I ain't dead, but my perkiness is just not perking as much as is normal. But, blessedly, there are no soccer games this weekend, no funerals to attend, nowhere to be on time, no grass to cut (unless I really feel like it), we got paid today, I didn't have to take a single BC Powder, and it's pretty outside.

Oh, there is the normal pile of laundry to wash and housecleaning to avoid, but maybe it won't be so bad. There'll probably even be a trip to Wal-Mart! In any case, I do intend to remember to unplug the telephone tonight to insure that there are no early-Saturday-morning wakeup calls from interested inlaws.

So, I'm fixing to get--all of you have a good weekend, and if you're real nice, there will be a hot pot of freshly perked Possumblog bright and early Monday!

posted by Terry at 4:33:00 PM

Gore chides Bush as divisive, misleading

The Commander in Chide. You know, if there ever was a headline that accurately captured the lispy, weepy, wooden, prissy, morose, pedantic nature of ol' Albert, this is it. "Chide" captures perfectly the persona of someone whose idea of an alpha male is the hall monitor. 'Not only did George Bush illegally invade Iraq, he did so without a hall pass, and he ran, and he was chewing gum.'

posted by Terry at 3:02:00 PM

Okay, now. The tax thing.

As I mentioned yesterday, Sugarmama sent me an e-mail she received from a very earnest opponent of Gubnah Bob Riley’s tax plan (known around these parts at Amendment One—The End of The World; or, Amendment One—The Savior of All Mankind) and she asked my opinion on its contents.

I let loose with a long-winded, point-by-point dissection of it and came to the conclusion that I still was undecided about the whole mess. She did suggest that I should post it for all of you fellow Cotton Staters to look at, and I figured I would. But then I found out that in my latest round of asking Chet the E-Mail Boy to take out the trash, I forgot to tell him to save that particular exchange. D’oh.

SO, rather than try to reconstruct the major points of SM’s original post and what I had to say about them, I’ll just launch into this little diatribe.

Before we get there, though, the backstory of the matter is that Alabama has a history of financial messes, in large part due to two things—an outdated Constitution which has been used by timber and mineral resource owners to keep property taxes low (and politicians in their thrall), and the resulting reliance by the state and by local governments on income taxes and on sales taxes to fund services.

Now, no one wants to have to pay taxes. BUT, if we want to provide ourselves with services such as education and police protection, it has to be done.

The bad thing about taxes on anything other than property (aside from the regressive nature of sales and use taxes) is that they can be very volatile—when the economy’s good, everybody’s happy, but if people ratchet down their buying, sales tax revenue likewise takes a hit. If you’re not relying on it to provide what you think are essential services, that’s not quite so bad, but when it is supposed to be going for running the schools and keeping State Troopers on the road, it’s pretty bad.

Especially if you’re a politician.

The pattern over the past few years for overcoming revenue shortfalls is one we like to call “proration”, in which money budgeted for disbursement is prorated by whatever percentage it is as a part of the state budget and by whatever the expected budget shortfall is. The Goat Hill Goobs get to fight amongst themselves so as to adjust the percentages a point or two one way or the other and crow about how they fought for the [insert name of special interest group here] to make sure they got less than their fair share of the misery. And then they give themselves a hearty slap on the back.

It continues like this, because as you can suspect, someone benefits from our financial disarray. I’ll leave it to you to figure out who, but the campaign against Amendment One is heavily bankrolled by a few heavy hitters:

More than $490,000 combined from county chapters of the Alabama Farmers Federation, the state's largest farming organization, which has historically opposed property tax increases.

$250,000 each from Alfa Insurance, an arm of the Farmers Federation, and SouthTrust Bank, lead by SouthTrust Corp. CEO Wallace Malone, an outspoken opponent.

$200,000 from Slawson Manufacturing Co. Inc. and $100,000 from Southeast Wood Treating, both owned by former Riley cabinet member Guice Slawson of Montgomery.

$40,125 from Russell Land Inc., a real-estate development firm in Alexander City.

(To be fair, the groups promoting the adoption of Amendment One are thick with organizations which make their way in life by feeding at the public trough.)

Both sides in the debate are using the exact same scare tactics in their television and print ads—if it passes or if it fails, The Children™ will be irreparably harmed and will grow up to be ignorant savages, The Aged™ will be turned out on the street in their thin bathrobes to scrounge in garbage cans, Criminals™ will move in with you and kill you, and the best one of all, Montgomery Politicians™ [insert ominous music and images of cigar-smoking, short-armed fatties] will find a way to steal all the money.

Oh, whatever. As it stands, the state will be running a deficit if SOMETHING isn’t done. It means either cut services or raise taxes.

The problem with cutting services is that the people who are supposed to be served are the ones who will suffer—the bulky layers of school bureaucrats will continue to haul in their paychecks whether Tommy Bob gets to play football or not, and the marketing departments for the various non-profit entitlement pass-throughs will still manage to find enough money to buy their favorite senator a nice dinner or two, whether Suejeanne gets her free grocery money or not.

The problem with raising taxes is that while Tommy Bob will be happy to get books that are only two years old AND his team will all get new helmets, and while Suejeanne will get a 1.3% raise in her free grocery money AND learn how to type on one of them computer deals, a much greater percentage will now go to insure that Beady-Eyed Roger and Robber Barron and Semiliterate John and Smilin’ Seth will have enough walking-around money to hand out to their buddies.

Which means, no matter which way you vote, the Montgomery Politicians™ are going to get what they see as rightfully theirs.

Personally, I think Riley’s plan is a small baby step toward reform of a broken system; rather like methadone is a cure for heroin addiction.

There’s not much he could do. He ran on a platform of fiscal responsibility with an emphasis on cutting waste, which he found out could only take him so far. Since Democrats control both Houses and all other top elected posts, it was either wait for the Democrats to come up with something, or try to fire the first shot and maybe work things around to something that would be to his advantage. I think Riley intended this plan to be a good faith attempt to redistribute the tax load in a more equitable manner toward those who are better able to pay, and to a more stable source. As it stands, though, there is too much in it to hate for the folks who think ALL taxes are bad, and not enough to buy off the loyalty of those who might otherwise work to see it passed.

In all of the blabber, what no one seems to recall is that none of these things even had to be put up for a vote—the Legislature has the power to levy taxes on anything they want, in just about any way they see fit. Riley knew the only way these measures would even have a chance of passing were to bypass the Legislature and get the people to vote for it, and the Democrats were only too willing to let him go with it. The Democrats have nothing to lose by standing back and offering faint praise—if the measure passes, they will be rolling in cool mud and will waste no time in shouting about how it was through their efforts that they saved the state from sure ruin. If it fails, they can proudly crow that they knew Alabamians were too smart to fall for that evil Republican plan. And then they will pass their own tax measure. Without a vote. For The Children™. Or, alternately, we’ll go right back to proration.

It would be nice if those who hate this plan this would start working now on a counterproposal; but that’s not the way things work in real life.

It would be nice if those who are so dead set against Riley’s plan because it perpetuates and nourishes a train wreck of a state government would start working now on a way to fix or replace the system; but that’s not the way things work in real life.

It would be nice of those championing the plan would realize that good government is not simply finding enough money to throw around; but that’s not the way things work in real life.

It would be nice if both sides would shut up the boogey-man blithering and get down to business; BTNTWTWIRL.

You know what the weirdest thing of all is? I like living here. Go figure.

posted by Terry at 2:35:00 PM

Greg Hlatky's Top 20!

Darned good list, I say. (Henry Phillips especially.)

posted by Terry at 1:24:00 PM

It has been brought to our attention...

...by the work-overwhelmed Francesca Watson, that Miss Janis, upon receipt of her Tingler, has not posted anything since 11:17 p.m. Tuesday evening.

In such instances, it is customary to call out a sheriff's posse, but the thought of walking in on her surrounded by stacks of Fabio pictures and a warm Tingler is simply too much to contemplate.

posted by Terry at 1:08:00 PM

Many Democrats Are Unhappy With Party

Well, maybe they didn't follow Nancy's instructions and forgot to find the restrooms and telephones, or maybe the sheet cake was too little.

(The Hill link via Wednesday's Opinion Journal)

posted by Terry at 9:47:00 AM

Oh, that Indigo!

Just got the following in the inbox from Miss Indigo, which gave both Chet the E-Mail Boy and me a big chuckle:

Subject: WOMEN DRIVERS

This morning on the Interstate, I looked over to my left and there was a woman in a brand new Cadillac doing 65 mph with her face up next to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner. I looked away for a couple seconds and when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup.

As a man, I don't scare easily. But she scared me so much; I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the donut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my cell phone away from my ear which fell into the coffee between my legs, splashed, and burned Big Jim and the Twins, ruined the #@*! phone, soaked my trousers, and disconnected an important call.

@#! women drivers!!

posted by Terry at 9:00:00 AM

Hmmm.

UPDATE--CORRECTION 8/11/03

I misheard a report on Friday, August 8 from the local NBC affiliate that one of Richard Scrushy's defense attorneys, Thomas Sjoblom, had been dismissed.

On Saturday, August 9, I contacted Wendy Garner, the anchor for the report, and received this reply:

Hi Terry. Thanks so much for watching NBC 13. We reported it was James Richey who was dismissed from the case.

Glad to help. Have a great day.
-Wendy Garner

Sorry for any confusion this may have caused.

posted by Terry at 8:37:00 AM

Thursday, August 07, 2003

You know...

Possumblog is known for many things, and reaches its mighty prehensile tail across vasty sweeps of the blogosphere gathering information for its visitors. Sometimes, seemingly dissimilar things such as African politics and automotive artistry combine in unexpected ways, so that lonely wanderers come to the screen door looking for information on such things as... restoring a 59 sudan deville cadillac .

The choice of warlords everywhere, I'm sure. Of course, it should not be confused with a closely related model, the Coup de Ville.

posted by Terry at 3:34:00 PM

Clash of the Worlds!!

What a nice lunch—I met Sugarmama (not her real name, by the way) over by the statue of John Harbert, which perfectly captures in bronze the full effect of what it’s like to have rigor mortis. I know the family loves the statue, and I’m sure the sculptor thought it was a grand piece, but it is rare (outside of various Third World dictatorships) to find the human form portrayed so lifelessly in the medium of statuary. At least he’s not hailing a cab.

ANYway, Miss Sugarmama was looking lovely as usual and was in her normal good spirits. We went in and decided to sample the scrumptious ethnic flair provided by Chan Lee’s. She got the sesame chicken, I the kung pao, and soon I was a large puddle of hot, sweaty, sniffling, molten lava. I have a feeling this is going to be with me for a while—the combined effects of whole red peppers and the BC Powders I’ve been eating all day to quiet my ankle pain promise a night full of fireworks.

Before all of that, though, we stood there waiting on our food, and SM commented about how the whole food court was giving her the meat market willies. Hey, just because hundreds of guys keep staring at your bosomal region doesn’t mean they’re thinking naughty thoughts! (In this case, however, I think she was right. Please, guys, a tip—it would be a lot easier on all of us if you would be a bit more discreet in your ogling. If you do it to the point of creeping out another guy, it’s probably best to dial it down a bit.)

Conversation swung wildly back and forth, and we talked about work, and house stuff, and former jobs, and that she once worked in an architect’s office for about ten months.

“Oh, cool! Where at?” She answered (and no, you won’t hear me repeat the name of the company), and I replied, “What a coincidence! That’s where Jeff, the guy I sometimes write about, you know My Friend Jeff ™? That’s where he works!”

“Uhhh, how long ago did he start?”

“Been about four years or so,” and I gave her his full name.

She looked as though she had been hit by a bus. “He hates me.”

What an incredibly tiny little world! What are the odds, huh?!

“HEY COOL! HE HATES ME, TOO!” Unfortunately, she was serious—when pressed for details about how it came to be that his antipathy waxed strong against her, the best I could figure out is that she worked for one of the partners he is less than fond of, and the hatred-by-association just came as a natural impulse. I’m going to call him right now and find out for sure…

The little pill’s not in the office. ::sigh:: Well, I WILL find out the rest of this story—it promises to be a good one!

So, we discussed how it was that Jeff and I know each other, which is through our mutual employment oh-so-long-ago by The Bad Place. Sugarmama noted that the architecture biz seems to be a bit heavy with anti-womanosity. “Hey, just because hundreds of guys…” Oh, wait—already used that line. Actually, she’s right, at least when talking about some of the smaller, old-line companies. The Bad Place where Jeff and I used to work had a similar bias, and while some might want to give such behavior the old ‘boys will be boys’ chuck under the chin, that’s really not the way to treat employees.

Further compressing the size of the earth (and providing no small amount of levity) was when she endeavored to reveal to me the name of the guy where she worked who gave her the ickiest feeling, and I guessed the old goat’s name before she even gave me a hint! (He’s one of those who gives me the creeps, too.) I tried my best to reassure her that Jeff didn’t really hate her, though. He’s just that way. I don't think she bought it.

Onward then, and we managed to cover grad school stuff, financial planning, house cleaning, interpersonal relationships, blogging, teenagers (she was once one, it turns out), being weird—and accepting is as your lot in life, and…and then it was time to go back to work. ::sigh::

BUT, seeing as how I behaved myself, looks like I’ll be able to swing another lunch! It pays to be on your best behavior, you know.

AND SPEAKING OF WHICH, my ongoing stalking project of the voluptuous Miss Nikki from the teevee station is still continuing—I've had to reschedule so many times now that I would feel really bad about insisting that she bring me all of those FOX-logoed coffee mugs and shirts and stuff she promised. Not bad enough to refuse them, mind you…

posted by Terry at 2:07:00 PM

LUNCH!

Yet again, Sugarmama and Mr. Possum have managed to arrange a vittle adventure for noontime today over at the grandiose AmSouth-Harbert food court. She promised that her posse of Reddy Kilowatt thugs would be skulking nearby to pounce upon me should anything untoward occur. (You all know how I am...)

Anyway, it should be interesting, so please stay tuned--AND as a special added bonus, I will later attempt to recreate the long-winded response I sent her regarding an e-mail she received about Alabama's proposed tax package!

Food and politics...heaven help us all.

posted by Terry at 11:07:00 AM

Yo Quiero TaAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

posted by Terry at 9:38:00 AM

Here goes nothing--I had removed my link to the Comments Place to keep from continually getting those maddening "Do You Wish To Debug" popups, but it looks like HaloScan might be getting back online, so back in they go. We'll see how this works.

(And yes, I know that the automatic debug thing can be overridden--IF you don't have all setting control removed from your machine by the system administrator.)

posted by Terry at 8:42:00 AM

Dining on the mounds

VIVI ABRAMS
News staff writer

MOUNDVILLE - On the shore of the Black Warrior River 800 years ago, fine dining meant a meal of peregrine falcon, seafood and the juiciest cuts of venison.

The less blessed ate corn meal, raccoon and deer stew.

The differences of the social classes at Moundville, a Mississippian American Indian civilization in west-central Alabama, are the subject of a July paper published in American Antiquity journal. By examining food remains from digs at the site from the past 10 years, researchers are putting together a clearer picture of life on the mounds. [...]

Mmmm! Gotta love that falcon meat!

posted by Terry at 8:22:00 AM

He's Back!

posted by Terry at 8:09:00 AM

Stupid, STUPID Haloscan is out of sorts this morning--apologies to anyone who is just dying to comment on large possum droppings in Texas, but remember that Chet the E-Mail Boy is on the job.

posted by Terry at 7:54:00 AM

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

And speaking of marsupials...

We just received an interested querist wondering about size Texas possum droppings

Well, you know what they say about Texas, and as expected, this is no exception. The largest ever recorded was found outside of Fluvanna, Texas on October 10, 1966, by a housewife named Verna Sludden. It was photographed by her husband Hunko "Jeb" Sludden alongside of a basketball for size comparison, although is was actually more the shape of a rugby ball. It was weighed on the Sludden's bathroom scale and is reported to have weighed 88 pounds, 4 ounces.

Several scientists from the Texas A&M Department of Wildlife and Fisheries Science examined the dropping and were impressed both with its size, and after laboratory analysis, its contents, which included portions of three bobcats, a flashlight, a rear seat ashtray from a 1962 Chrysler, pages 8-95 of J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, an Oklahoma State Fair ceramic thimble (undated), an inert WWII grenade, a size 36B Playtex longline brassiere, $15 in assorted change (not including 4 pesos), a harmonica, and a variety of other items.

The items were later cataloged and photographed, and published in a small book (now out of print) called Interesting Texas Finds, 1960-1968, which featured The Rio Grande Cave Creature and Jim Tertigan's Amazing Hat.

As always, the Possumblog Science Staff are happy to assist in all matters of furthering man's knowledge of the universe.

posted by Terry at 4:32:00 PM

Lileks Handicaps 'Em (As if they weren't already doing a good enough job by just being themselves)

From today's Newhouse column, on the Raging Democratic Fists of Fury--

[...] -- Dennis Kucinich: No man with a Mo Stooge haircut has ever been elected president, and Kucinich will be no exception. His Web site compares him to Seabiscuit -- another famous horse who came from behind, electrified a depressed nation, and was oddly unconcerned about Saddam Hussein's crimes. Kucinich's most notable proposal so far is the creation of a Department of Peace, which would presumably issue Karma Level Alerts depending on how much other nations hated America.

-- Al Sharpton: Funny, personable, unguarded and unelectable. His incoherent politics and reprehensible history aside, his main problem is this: If you were writing a novel about an opportunistic pol who uses his personality to bamboozle his way onto the national stage, you'd want to name the character "Al Sharpton." Your editor would make you change it. Too obvious.

-- Bob Graham: Amazing 93 percent name recognition drops to .01 percent when people realize the question is not about a tasty cracker.

-- Carol Moseley Braun:

That's the field. No wonder Dean has all the buzz. But it's not just the paucity of candidates that makes him stand out; he has fire and charisma. When the faithful hear him speak, it's as if they've grabbed a barbed wire; when he speaks of his burning need to wrest the nation's reins from the hands of the plutocrats and cake-eaters, you almost forget his plutocratic, cake-eating family roots. When he pounds President Bush on Iraq, you almost want to stand up and shout Yeah! Heck yeah! Iraq would be better off with Saddam still in power, so --

Uh -- never mind. Anyway, passion is overrated. The ability to articulate the swirling fury of the hard-core is not a recipe for success. If you bring the Nader voters back into the fold, great -- but if your persona drives the middle into the GOP camp, you've lost the race. [...]

Mmm. Graham crackers...

Anyway, it might do well for the Democratic Party stategerists to remember that there is a large swath of the population who really don't like having to put up with whiney brats in restaurants or in Congress. Likewise, Swath-Americans tend to think that while America may have its faults, it's not quite a gulag.

But hey, whadda I know, I'm just a possum.

posted by Terry at 3:21:00 PM

When Life Overtakes The Onion...North Korean leader has passion for hoops

By JAE-SUK YOO
The Associated Press
8/6/2003, 2:39 p.m. CT

SEOUL, South Korea (AP) -- North Korean leader Kim Jong Il has another passion apart from running the isolationist nation: basketball.

In 2000, then-U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright visited North Korea and gave Kim a ball signed by Michael Jordan.

"We should make our youths and workers play a lot of basketball," North Korean media quoted Kim Jong Il as saying that year.

Kim will soon have a new 12,300-seat basketball court in his capital. South Korea's Hyundai conglomerate has finished a $57 million gymnasium in Pyongyang that includes a state-of-the-art court with large TV screens and air conditioning. Construction proceeded despite tension this year over North Korea's suspected development of nuclear weapons. [...]

Once again, good to see that SOMEONE has their priorities right...

posted by Terry at 3:01:00 PM

Truth, Justice, and the Noble Moon Pie

Only U.S. marshmallow pies allowed in Daphne parades

By BRENDAN KIRBY
Staff Reporter

DAPHNE -- The City Council voted unanimously Monday night to ban imported marshmallow pies from its Mardi Gras parades.

After two years of staging parades during the Carnival season, council members decided it was prudent to adopt formal regula tions governing behavior of the paraders. The ordinance regulates the height of floats, prohibits alcoholic beverages on the parade platforms, requires organizations to provide for security and mandates post-parade cleanup.

It prohibits throws made of glass or hard rubber balls and other items that may cause injury.

It also requires that all marshmallow pie throws be made in the USA.

Daphne leaders said they based their regulations on cities with established traditions of Mardi Gras festivities such as Fairhope, which also bans foreign-made marshmallow pies from its parades. They acknowledged, however, that they did not know the logic behind the rule other than speculation ranging from the promotion of health to patriotism.

Council members passed the ordinance with little discussion. Only Councilman John Gwin made even a oblique reference to the Moon Pie rule.

"Despite the fact that we've had some fun with some of the provisions, the ordinance itself is very important to establish for the safety guidelines and safety parameters for the paraders, and it's something we had to put in place," he said. [...]

Well, at least SOMEBODY has their priorities right...

posted by Terry at 2:06:00 PM

J.Lo and Ben Look Forward to Next Film

One is reminded of the last scene in Life of Brian, as Mr. Frisbee leads everyone in a rousing rendition of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life".

posted by Terry at 1:56:00 PM

Tranny Love

The post from yesterday about working on vee-hickles brought out a lot of comments from folks—MommaBear continues to allure with her self-described ability to lay mat, set points, and hand lap valves (Rrrrowlllllllll!), and Miss Janis thinks of Toploaders and Rock Crushers when she gets p0rn spam, and Vachon made note of her desire to learn more about cars.

A noble goal, indeed.

Everybody should know at least the basic stuff about the cars they drive, and rest assured, being ovary-gifted is not an impediment. Even if you have no desire to do your own clutch rebuild, it is beneficial to take the time to learn a little bit.

Cars have gone through a revolution in the past ten years, and have become increasingly reliable, making it less likely you would ever need to know how to unstick a carb float (my mother used the heel of her shoe on our ’58 Merc) or carry around a pint of brake fluid. Computers and fuel injection—from someone who’s had to pour gas down a carb—are a godsend. The downside with newer cars is that if something DOES go wrong, there is really no such thing as doing a roadside repair. (The other part of the revolution is easy access to a cell phone to call a tow truck.) Stuff’s more reliable, but not perfect, and when it does break, it is usually much more expensive to repair.

BUT, there are still things that require an owner’s attention, and again, this advice goes for both pointers and setters—

First, read your owner’s manual, cover to cover. Then, read through all the maintenance stuff again as you are standing there in front of your car. Find out how to check the fluids, figure out where the fuse box is, find and identify every piece you can, and most important, learn how to change a tire.

Find a nice flat spot in a parking lot or a driveway to practice in and follow the instructions in the manual and actually put on the spare. Don’t quibble with me! Even if it’s a spacesaver and you have to take it right back off, do it. You will never know how important this is until you need it, and it's better to have learnt it on a nice, dry day than to have to figure it out at midnight in the rain.

If you do decide to learn a bit more, the best thing to do before you start laying out lots of dough is read as much as you can. Go to the library and check out books made for beginners, or get on the Internet and go to places like Auto Education.Com or the auto repair part of About.com, both of which have a huge amount of general information about how cars work and how to work on them. Read, read, read.

At some point in there, you’ll decide you want to start taking things apart, and if you have the time and inclination, most local schools have a shop class or community education program and would be happy to have you. The benefits of these classes are that you get to be around people who are just as inept as you, so nobody can make fun of you, and there is an instructor standing by who can call an ambulance for you.

If you just want to dive in and learn-by-doing, the best advice I can give (aside from reading the shop manual first) is a) be sure and label EVERYTHING, b) put everything you remove in a plastic bag or a container, c) label the container or bag, d) make a list of the part labels and bag labels and make two copies, keeping one in your freezer and the other posted on the wall of the garage, e) occasionally read the lists and check them against your parts, f) know the name of the guy at your local parts dealer for when you lose the lists and/or the containers, and g) buy good tools. Don’t ever buy tools at the drug store, don’t ever buy tools that look “cute”, and under no circumstances let anyone borrow ANYTHING. Swapping partners may be your thing, but then the worst that can happen is you get some sort of nasty, fatal disease—but to let someone have their way with your tools?! That’s just sick.

Anyway, after many years and thousands of dollars later, you will proudly look back over your handy skills and your mechanical accomplishments and wonder why you have a box of labelled parts for a car you no longer own.

posted by Terry at 12:28:00 PM

In my absence…

Chet the E-Mail Boy has kept himself occupied with the small stream of correspondence trickling in (he does not seem to notice that the volume of mail is now smaller with the Comments feature, and I shan’t tell him), and just yesterday Jim Smith of Mayberry, North Carolina wrote in to say:

Subject: Diet

Since you were so supportive in the food blogging area during the start of the diet I thought you might like an update. Except for a couple of days when the family was not in town and I lost all willpower, I have done reasonably well. Since I am not using the same scales I started with, and only weighed yesterday for the first time since a week before the start, these figures are approximate. I looks like I have lost almost 25 pounds since the middle of June. I am under 200 for the first time in at least a decade.

Super, Jim! Long-time readers will remember Jim Smith (he assures me this is his real name. “As if!” as the kids say) is Atkinsing his way to the slim, girlish figure he had back in the day.

I myself have been struggling with my spare tire since, oh, about high school, and it has alternately inflated to tractor-trailer-sized and deflated to a less-huge-but-still-formidable P255R-16 size over the years. Never does quite go away, though.

Part of my problem is those darned complex carbohydrates. I have been doing much better the past couple of years and tried to cut back on them French fried taters mm-hm and bread and sweet stuff and every other thing in the world that tastes good. I dropped about 40 or so pounds over a three month period, and have managed to keep about 30 off since then. Sure is difficult. I still indulge every once in a while, but try to stick to stuff that’s not just plain raw sugar. Eat your fruits and vegetables, exercise, and blog a lot.

I know you really do not care, the only thing worse than another's diet is their dreams. However, I just wanted to tell someone and my friends have stopped listening.

Oh, stuff and nonsense, Jim, of course I care. Really. I don’t know what Chet may have said, but he’s wrong. You know how he is. I DENY IT ALL.

Anyway, remember what I told you—when your friends stop listening, it means it’s time for you to start your own blog. Then millio…thousand…hund…several people a day will come by and be very interested!

Thanks

Jim

No, Jim—thank YOU!!

PS

Please blog about more starchy food and BTW I am back on vacation.

Well, Jim, good to hear that the slave drivers at East Carolina have allowed you a respite from those long hours of looking at co-eds! And as for starchy food, Chet also handed me this short, yet informational message from Larry Anderson:

Subject: Food

www.tastymanatees.com

Looks like someone stole your fast food idea.

Larry

Now, now—I think the prepackaged sirenia market is large enough for several competitors, and who can deny that manatees are juicy and flavorful!?

As you all know, The Possumblog Kitchens™ division of Possumblog Food Service Corporation has had a very successful time with our premier brand, Cornatees®--the cornbread battered, deep fried manatee treat on a stick, as well as our other fine breaded, fried, meat-on-a-stick products such as Cornutria®, which uses the best tender Midwestern marmot, and Cornguins®, with the great taste of Emperor penguin. (Be sure and try the newest Mesquite Grilled Flavor with Chipotle Seasoning!)

HOWEVER, you know sometimes you want to have a good, special, sit-down Sunday meal, and it’s then when you might want to try one of my favorite recipes, Manatee and Dumplings:

1 manatee
1 c. Bisquick mix
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. paprika
1/8 tsp. pepper
2 tbsp. shortening
1 tbsp. butter
1 (10 1/2 oz.) can cream of manatee soup
1 1/2 c. milk
Dumpling dough on Bisquick box
1/2 tsp. parsley flakes
1/4 tsp. manatee seasoning

Wash manatee and pat dry. Mix baking mix, salt, paprika and pepper in paper bag. Coat manatee thoroughly. Melt shortening and butter in large skillet, brown manatee on all sides. Remove manatee, drain fat. Stir in soup and milk, add manatee.

Cover and simmer about 3 days or until thickest pieces are tender. Twenty minutes before end of cooking time, prepare dumpling dough adding parsley flakes and manatee seasoning before mixing in liquid. Drop by teaspoons in hot manatee. Cook uncovered for 10 minutes. Cook covered for 10 minutes.

Jim, if you don’t have friends who want to hear about your diet, just wait until they try some of this! It’s great, and it keeps just fine in the fridge for those late-night bouts of the hungries!

posted by Terry at 10:07:00 AM

Whew.

Well, yesterday wasn’t quite so bad. Of course, getting to school an hour before Rebecca’s safety patrol meeting, and two hours ahead of the scheduled time to meet the teachers certainly helped.

We zipped in and found a parking place right at the front door, went in, figured out where the meeting was going to be, got a map of the building, and went back outside and sat for an hour. Jonathan and Rebecca get sort of rambunctious, believe it or not. I very nearly decided to put them out and let them be rambunctious in the blazing sun on the fresh asphalt, but thought better of it.

Time came and we went back in, found the patrol room and sat around for a bit as the coordinator went over assignments.

(For those who are new readers, the safety patrollers open car doors and help kids get on and off buses and help the teachers keep order in the mornings and afternoons. They have to be the oldest kids, have mostly all ‘A’s, and good conduct. Rebecca had wanted to be one ever since she started school there, and finally got her chance last year. She was VERY proud. Jonathan wanted to be one this year, but now that fifth grade has been moved from the middle school, he has another year to wait. He was VERY sad.)

Assignments having been assigned and procedures discussed, they took a walk up the hallways to see a few of their stations. Which, with the crowd of just-now-arriving regular kids bringing supplies, was a repeat of the crazy-house scene from yesterday over on the primary school side.

That done, they were dismissed and we went to the Blue Hall and met Rebecca’s teacher, who looked about twelve years old and was just as nice as could be. It should be a good year for them both. Then it was off to the Orange Hall to meet Jonathan’s teacher, who just happened to be Rebecca’s teacher from last year. We walked in and she just loved all over Rebecca, who remained, as always, quiet as a mouse. She gently teased her and asked if her brother was going to be as noisy and naughty as she had been, and I allowed that although he is a very good little boy, he does have a bit less restraint of himself. He’s excited to be in her class though, and she’s real pretty, so I think he’ll do just fine.

We explored a bit more and went to the library and then made our way back to the van. The road traffic wasn’t near as bad as it had been the day before—many folks have kids in both parts of the school and knew what to expect, and others had been warned. Today, who knows what will happen. Should be interesting though.

Anyway, got home and Reba decided she needed to get her hair cut and go buy things, and asked if she should take Rebecca and get her hair cut.

Like Catherine, she’s only had her hair cut once (about six inches a couple of years ago), and it had grown back out to below her butt. And with it being put in a pony tail everyday, and her sweating on it at soccer practice, it knots up just like Cat’s. We’ve been hinting around that she needed it cut again, but she has been whiney and not at all amenable to it. Part of the problem is that a lot of her self-image is in being The Girl With The REAL Long Hair, and I think she didn’t want to give that up. But it had gotten nearly impossible to get a brush through, and took ten minutes every morning to get fixed.

So, the Leadership Council decreed that she would go with Mom.

Tears, wailing, whining, pouting, tears, crying, ululating, lots of snot, wailing, tiny baby voice, sweat—went on about thirty minutes. Kept trying to show her that it was going to STILL be longer than just about anybody else’s, appealed to her sense of charity in that her pony tail would go to the sick kids without hair just like Catherine’s pony tail, told her it would let everyone see her jersey number, told her she would finally be able to fix it herself, then just told her to shut her pie hole and get in the car.

Three hours later, Mom and Daughter returned with locks shorn. Rebecca’s now comes to the middle of her shoulder blades, and she can’t quit running her hands through it. Mom’s is now a sassy cut just below her ears. (Especially humorous, considering her father always made her keep her hair short when she was young, and after she got in college, she let it grow to prodigious lengths. Since we’ve been married, it has progressively gotten shorter, and with the latest cut, I noted to her that it is now exactly the same length it was when she had her senior picture taken in high school. She looked in the mirror and closely examined it, “Hm, well…maybe.”)

Girls.

posted by Terry at 8:46:00 AM

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Meeting the School Marm

AS YOU RECALL, yesterday afternoon was the Go Get Cat and Take Her To School trip. And what a long strange trip it was.

Got out to T'ville a little bit early, so I stopped at Sonic and got some greasy food and ate it, then scooted over to the old elementary school (where they have the summer care program) and picked up Cat. Had to wait while she went to the restroom, which took forever because she had to talk to herself and to the paper towels, but it was still only a little past 2:00 and we didn't have to be at the new school until 2:30. It's only about three miles from the old school, right up old Highway 11. (Highway 11 is a bit of a misnomer--for most of its length from Trussville on to the east it's just a little two-lane country road.)

Finally she got finished saying goodbye to the sink and the potty and we were on our way. Turned onto the highway and right where it turns back into two lanes, we stopped dead. Bumper to bumper. It seems some incredibly bright person decided that not just first graders, but every single child in elementary school was to meet his or her teacher yesterday, and every single one of them in the 2:30 to 3:00 time span. Eeeeeejits.

So, we sat in traffic from 2:10 to 4:00.

2.7 miles--14,256 feet--of cars. Cars full of small, bored children.

You know, if you say that each car is about 22 feet long, and add a car's length of space between each, that comes out to about 324 cars in line, which is probably about right.

2.7 miles in 1 hour, 50 minutes. About 1 1/2 miles per hour--I could have walked it faster than driven it. Although I don't think Tiny Terror could have managed it. I just sure am glad I made her go to the restroom before we left.

We watched the train go by. We discussed traffic--"Why don't you just go on that side?!" "Daddy would get a ticket, sugar." We looked at the horsey. There's an old pale swaybacked one that lives in a stable right on the side of the road. No, I don't know its name. No, I don't know its mommy. No, I don't think we can stop and ride it. Yes, it's eating grass. No, I don't know where its friend is. We looked at the hot rod shop. "Look Cat, it's a '56 Bel Air!" "Oooh, it's RED, Daddy!" We talked about her new teacher, and I read her the letter she got when she registered. "She likes to play the pinonno, Daddy?" "'S'what it says here..." "I like the pinanner, too!"

Finally got to the building, and then the next test was finding a parking space--obviously, an elementary school doesn't need a whole lot of parking. Unless you are going to insist every child in school bring his car. In which case, you find out that part of the delay was trying to find a slot for 400 Suburbans and Navigators and Expeditions. We wound up parking on the furthest paved portion of the site from the entrance. Then did the same slog we did last Friday during registration. Sure would have been nice if some of the doors had been unlocked.

Got inside, and it was like walking into an asylum. We managed to find her room after a bit and met her teacher, who seems like a very sweet young lady. Cat stowed away her supplies and then I took her to the potty again, and then it was time to go see her kindergarten teacher and show off her new short hair and pierced ears, and then to tour the library and show the librarian her new short hair and pierced ears.

And then blessedly time to go home. Well, not home exactly--had to go get Jonathan and Rebecca from daycare, THEN go home. Where I found that Reba was going to be home late, so as Rebecca got her junk ready for soccer practice, I donned my chef's apron and prepared a lovely meal of chicken fingers, okra, green beans, and some sort of prepackaged Lipton rice mix stuff. Reba home, then we ate, then it was up and back to the soccer park for me and Bec, where I sat and got sucked dry by mosquitoes, then home where I stayed up much too late playing on the computer.

And now? Well, I'm leaving early AGAIN, this time to take Boy and Middle Girl to the new school. Seems they want the students to show up between 2:30 and 3:00 to meet their teachers. I might leave about five minutes or so earlier than normal, just in case there might be some traffic. (Actually, Rebecca has a safety-patroller meeting at 1:30, so we're all going to get up there real early. Probably still won't get a good parking space, though.) AND, Ashley has her meet-and-greet the exact same time, so Reba is leaving early to go take HER to the middle school.

I'm just glad I don't feel the least bit tired!

posted by Terry at 11:42:00 AM

And speaking of prolithic...

I was just shanghaied by the coworker I mentioned earlier to go out to an onsite meeting with her and some nice fellow trying to start a business. Wouldn't be so bad, except that in addition to being a language murderer, she's a tobacco fiend and smokes in her car. I was in her car for about ten minutes going, spent twenty minutes out in the open air, then ten minutes coming back, and I now reek like a ashtray full of cigarette butts.

We got inside and I very nearly sprinted to get on the elevator to go get a Coke from downstairs to try and wash the stench out of my mouth and she mistakenly got on the elevator with me, thinking I was going up. She was momentarily flustered, but I told her not to worry, she could just ride down with me and get a drink--"Oh, I can't drink sodas anymore--they're bad for your bones."

::blink::blink::

Yes, we want our bones to be nice and tough, just like our rock-hard lungs.

Some people, eh?

posted by Terry at 10:41:00 AM

Catching up...

Thanks to those of you who stopped in yesterday--not a lot to see, but you know how life is, always butting in and causing a distraction from productive bloggery.

ANYway--I did want to answer a couple of the comments...Indigo took note of the excellent price for the tree-getting-down work. Indeed, it would have been cheap at twice the price, but one must remember that a hundred bucks goes much further when you don't have to pay insurance and bonding and overhead and taxes and business licenses and snappy looking duds with your name on the pocket--basically, he's out some gas for the chain saw, a six of PBR, and maybe half a pack of smokes.

Then, on the the car thing--vachon THOUGHT she was going to be all smarty-pants like by suggesting that if Oldest would be satisfied with nothing less than a Jag, then she should have it in Tampa Bay Buccaneers livery. Little did vachon know, but the mighty Trussville Huskies also use the same red and white with silver and black accents as her beloved Bucs, so a red one would be JUST FINE--a moot point to be sure since the only way we could afford an XK8 is for me to drop dead.

Tarheel Tater Man offered the first suggestion, namely:

You could tell Ashley in order to get a car she has to be able to work on and repair a car, so that she'll know how the thing operates. Two good possibilities could come out of this:

1. She quickly loses interest, you hold to your guns and tell her no car without the work, she is resigned to borrowing Franklin (as if you'd let her behind the wheel of that truck!).
2. She takes to car repair, learns a trade, and you get to spend quality time with her.

Sounds like a win-win situation. Although if Reba teams up with her in a couple of years, you'll be road kill no matter what you want to do.

Well, now--don't think I haven't thought about this angle. I think girls SHOULD know how to work on cars, and in my little essay I did a long time ago that's over on the GeoCities part of this site, one of the points I stress to Little Boy in his selection of potential date material (for later in life) is to try to choose a girl who's handy with the wrenches. A gearhead for a girlfriend is one of those wondrous dreams, almost up there with meeting a girl whose dad owns a Porsche dealership and whose brother runs a gun shop.

Anyway, as of this morning, Oldest has shown ABSOLUTELY NO interest in doing anything requiring a) effort, or b) effort. The idea of learning about how to work on cars is somehow going to have to be HER idea--if I suggest it she'll just refuse and then sulk and fuss about how everybody hates her. So, I'll let her look at all the cars she wants and try to sneak in some valuable knowledge without her realizing it--"LOOK DAD!! It's a 2004 Lamborghini Gallardo!!" "Hmm, that's VERY interesting--by the way, did you know that the tri-power unit for the L-88 Corvette operated with the center carb having a mechanical linkage and the two end carbs with vacuum actuation?" That'll work, I'm sure.

As for her driving Franklin, I truly believe she would just run away from home instead. Just a few months ago when she was doing the local theater production of "The Jungle Book", I had to use it to chauffeur her butt over to the theater. We got there early and since the door was locked, she had to sit there with me in the truck until someone came. She spent the entire time with her whole body jammed against the passenger door, alternately mumbling and whimpering, certain that her short life had been ruined completely and with prejudice. Heh.

It would be a good thing for them all to use to learn on--hard to break it any more than it already is. And the physical effort alone is worthy of Grasshopper's long years learning Kung Fu from Master Po--"If you can press the clutch pedal and not break your toes..."

NOW, as for Miss Reba's place in this...I will get little help from her in turning her daughters into grease monkeys. Over our nearly twelve years of married life, I have managed to teach her only about two things--the body-style differences between a '67 and a '68 Camaro, and the pretty car with the three pointed star is not a Rolls Royce, it's a Mercedes. She wouldn't know the difference between a carburetor jet and a jet engine, and doesn't care as long as she gets where she's going.

SO, right now I think I'll just play it cool and see what happens, and try to herd the cats toward something that is both interesting and kind to Daddy's wallet. And prepare to be road kill.

posted by Terry at 9:24:00 AM

Cervically.

I would do this, except all my bosses do it without prompting. I have one fellow who pronounces caveat kah-VAHT. One of my coworkers uses the word "prolithic" for "prolific". You'd think they hadn't gradumicated from college.

posted by Terry at 8:08:00 AM

Monday, August 04, 2003

So, we drove to a park named Kentuck,
Which the rain had turned into muck.
I sat on my stool,
While the kids acted the fool,
Thinking, “Boy, this really does lend itself to all sorts of rich bloggy goodness for Monday morning, and I sure hope I remember some of it enough to make a clever limerick or something.

But before all that, I had to do my normal Saturday grass cutting Friday evening, but before THAT, I walked in to the kitchen to find Reba on the phone and Oldest poring over my latest AutoWeek. Huh!? “Whatcha doin’?” Weird nervous giggle—“Looking at your magazine!” Of all my stuff, the last thing I would have ever thought she was interested in would be my car magazines. She ran off somewhere else and Reba hung up—“What’s the deal with her?” “She’s been talking the past couple of days about the type of car she wants when she gets sixteen.”

WHOA, CAMEL! WHOA! Did I say WHOA? WHOA! Derned kid’s THIRTEEN, and she’s already thinking she’s just gonna FLOUNCE down and get herself a car and she’s THIRTEEN for cryin’ out loud and, and…she’s looking at my AutoWeek. Hmm.

“She had one of your Car and Drivers the other day looking at it.” Hmm. “What sort of things is she looking at?” “Oh, nothing really, just sorta looking at all the pictures—she keeps looking at all the expensive ones and I told her not to get her hopes up.” “WELL, YEAH! This is weird.” Reba patted me on the arm—“Yes, but at least she’s looking in YOUR magazines…” The unsaid thing being that ‘she may otherwise loathe you as only a headstrong, authority-averse thirteen year old can, but she at least knows that Dad likes cars.’

What a quandary. If I come on too strong, will it cause her contrarian streak to kick in? And of the things I have usually been reliably able to claim as mine and mine alone, car magazines were right up there with my guns and my underwear. Hmm.

I figure it’ll be best to play it cool—which worked pretty well when she came pounding back down the stairs with the mag turned to the ads in the back, “Look, Dad—this one’s REALLY nice!!!” ’01 Jag XK8 convertible, 59 large. Whew. Maybe I could get her hooked on something cheaper, like crack or something. “Yeah, sugar—it’s real pretty, but you know we could never afford anything like that, right?” “Oh, I know, I just thought it was neat.” Then she ran off again. Hmm. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind. Maybe I should go cut the grass.

Which I did, with much vigor and no small amount of mind-swirliness. You know, one day you’ve got a wiggly, poop-spewing little bundle, and the next, she’s wanting a car and you’re the one who’s a wiggly, poop-spewing little bundle. And then your neighbor is yelling at you.

In my concentration, I had not noticed that the lady next door and her daughter-in-law had walked up with the non-specific, male near-kin of the people across the street. Uncle, brother, brother-in-law, cousin—not sure exactly what the familial relation is, although there is always the possibility that he fills more than one slot in the line-up. Dirty camo pants, green tee-shirt with the sleeves artfully clipped away to reveal ropey arms the color and texture of saddle leather—he had come by a few weeks ago and wanted to know if my neighbor wanted him to cut down them there dead hickry trees in the back yard yonder. She told him one was in the neighbor’s yard, and that she wasn’t sure if the one between our houses was hers or mine.

She told me about their conversation some time last week or the week before, and I told her that the tree actually sat right on the line between our yards. She said he quoted her $50 to cut it down, which sounded real good, so I told her I would be glad to go half on it. So, Friday, he was back.

“Uhh, well, yonder tree I’ll get down for 85, and that one over yonder’ll be 85, and then it’ll be 15 t’ haul ‘em off.” Huh? Luckily, my neighbor and her daughter-in-law (who lives across the street, next door to the relative of Noble Woodsman) were even more confused than me—“So, for this one here, it will be $100?” “Right, for all of them it would be 230.” “No, wait, that tree over there isn’t hers, she’s just going to share the cost of this one with this man. You had quoted her $85 for cutting the tree, then $15 to haul both of them off, so to haul this one would be $7.50, plus $85 would be $92.50, right?” “Yeah, right, this one here will be 115 to cut and haul away.” Oh good grief. They went back and forth forever, and I finally figured that the price of cutting our tree had doubled up to a hundred dollars. That darned meth must be getting expensive. I got Reba to go get the checkbook and I wrote out a check to our neighbor for $50 and came back out to find that she and her daughter-in-law were still working out the price. ::sigh::

In the intervening time, Noble Woodsman had gone back over to move his truck and knock back a few, and by the time I had gotten back outside, the price had once again dropped to $85. I stood there and tried to recount all the various iterations of price with the ladies and finally went ahead and told my neighbor just to keep the fifty and we’d be even. She protested that it wasn’t fair, but I told her not to worry about it, as long as the tree got gone. I made the daughter-in-law (who was having him cut two of her trees) to be sure and stay out and supervise him since we were going to be gone on Saturday, and she promised she would.

After our trip Saturday (more of which in a moment) Reba and I went out to go look at the stump. It looked like he had done a good enough job, and had cleaned up the yard and not torn a gaping hole in the side of the house. The neighbor lady came out and recounted his efforts, “And you know what? He wound up charging a hundred dollars! He came out and first said he was going to cut if for a hundred, then add thirty to haul it off!” After another round of negotiating, she and her daughter-in-law I guess managed to get him back down to something not quite so bad. Good thing I went ahead and gave her that check, I suppose. I allowed that maybe the next time we need a tree cut down, it might be advantageous for us to shop around a bit. She agreed.

But somewhere there is a Noble Woodsman with a fridge full of 40s, half a case of Marlboros, and a satisfied smile.

PICNIC!!

Got up early Saturday and started getting the chilluns ready for the trip. Part of the preparation took longer than expected due to the fact that during the night Catherine, whose bed is right beside the bedroom window, had managed to wrap one of the curtains all around herself and in between her legs, and then peed all over it. This necessitating removing the curtain and the sheets and giving her a bath before we left. ::sigh:: I knew those curtains were going to be trouble.

Everything else was relatively uneventful, and we managed to throw some cereal down their mouths and scoot over to the store for some ice and soft drinks and cash and snacks and reading matter. I had lobbed the groceries into the back of the van and slid into the driver’s seat with my sack of goodies when before I could even get my seatbelt on, Ashley had grabbed my copies of Southern Rodder and Hot VWs out of the bag and starting squealing like she was holding a lock of Aaron Carter’s hair.

“Ahhmmm…those ARE mine, you know.” “LOOK REBECCA! JONATHAN! LOOK AT THIS!!” ::sigh:: Reba patted me on the arm and gave me that look. Poor Reba doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for—my poor mother, bless her heart, spent nearly ten years with paint fumes wafting up from the basement, all of her towels disappearing, stumbling over consoles and bumpers and tires and wire—some of which occupied the area underneath my bed. Oh well. She’ll figure it out.

We followed her mom and dad down to Northport. I had not been to the old part of Northport, and it’s pretty cool, but Kentuck park is…well, not what I had pictured. There is a big festival every year that attracts artists from all over the country and has even garnered a mention in the New York Times, and I guess I was thinking of something a bit more spiffy. Without the artists and stuff, it’s just a regular park with some picnic pavilions and a walking path. Oh well, that’s what I get for thinking, I suppose.

Anyway, lots of folks turned out from pop-in-law’s company, and they had a couple of DJs from a local radio station playing tunes, and a bank of charcoal grills cooking up hamburgers and hot dogs, and a little train to haul the kids around, and a dunking booth to raise money for their Christmas project, and several blow-up things to occupy the kids—one in particular was rather bizarre—a big caterpillar/obstacle course which required the children to enter the front of the caterpillar and stumble and bounce through its intestines to the very end, where they plopped out between two giant butt cheek-looking things. Ewww. Yet strangely compelling for the younger set.

The grounds were sloppy from a rain earlier that morning—nothing terribly bad, but enough to drive my mother-in-law batty trying to get bits of dirt off the kids’ new sneakers she had gotten for them the other day. You may not believe this, but some people do not think that using a wet paper towel to clean the bottom of shoes is a very good idea, especially when the shoes in question are standing in mud, and the entire area is covered with mud and bits of leaves. But what do I know? She chased them around all day trying to keep the soil off.

They enjoyed the caterpillar and the dunking booth, and I did my dead level best to just sit in my folding chair and read and eat my Cheezits. I got corralled into supervising a couple of them, but was usually able to coerce them to come back and sit down with poor old Dad, who would give them drinks out of the cooler and Cheezits.

We finally left around 3, and made a side visit to Green Pond on the way back so the kids could see where their great-great-great-great-great grands were buried. The Presbyterian church pictured in the link was begun in 1826 by Sabert Oglesby, who had come with his father Sabert and uncle John and the rest of their family members from South Carolina to Alabama along about 1819 or so. It is reported that he built the church building himself, as well as a homestead that has long since vanished. It’s been a long time since we had been there—I think it was probably while Rebecca was still a baby. The kids couldn’t believe all the Oglesbys—it’s not a very common name, after all—nor could they quite fathom the number of graves of infants. The good old days did have their limits. They ran all over the place looking before they finally succumbed to the heat and mosquitoes, and then we were back on the road.

The rest of the evening was devoted to scrubbing them down and trying to get their hair washed. Poor Cat had managed to get herself a rat’s nest the size of my fist in her hair, and it took Reba nearly an hour of careful pulling and yanking to get it out. And a full hour of screaming from Catherine. Which led to Sunday’s big event…

Catherine Gets a Haircut

Oh, if you only knew how much trauma this caused. For Reba. 6 1/2 years of pretty little baby curls that have never met scissors, all the way down past Cat’s bottom. Daddy has had the chore for most every day of those 6 1/2 years of having to brush and care for this mass of hair. While I am a sentimental lad, and have always loved her wild mane, it has become increasingly difficult to do anything with. I have been telling her (within earshot of Mommy) for months now that she needed to have her hair cut, and she could donate it to make wigs for little children who lose their hair because they’re sick. After her tug of war, she was more than ready to give it to the sick kids. SO, after church and lunch Sunday, Mom called the Cancer Society here in town and they referred her to Wigs for Kids. She got on the Internet and did her homework and steeled herself for the coming loss. She wanted to go with Cat, and she wanted ALL of us to go, too--for moral support, I suppose.

Off we went to Head Start, up Cat hopped into the chair, Dad did the “cut it off to here” speech (lest Mom back out) and in a minute or two, fourteen golden inches of thick, fine fur was lopped off. Her hair STILL comes to the middle of her shoulder blades, though. The stylist trimmed up the raggedy ends, and in just a little while, I had a grown up girl. She looked so sleek, so stylish. And the rest of the afternoon she kept running her fingers and various combs and brushes through her hair, putting it in ponytails and taking it down again, all by herself.

First she gets her ears pierced, and now this. And Ashley wants a car. They were just babies yesterday! ::sigh::

AND for the rest of today, I have to leave early and go pick her up so she can meet her teacher and put her supplies in her brand new classroom at her brand new school. Then tomorrow, I get to repeat this exercise with the other three. Which means, that there isn’t going to be a whole lot of productive blogging in the next couple of days. BUT, I do have TWO special secret luncheons on the calendar for later in the week, so there is the promise of other interesting stuff. Really! Honest! Well, maybe.

OH, P.S.!!

Forgot about it (several times) but those of you who have been pining for a good sound "Scourging of Richard Cohen" are in luck! Axis of Weevil Ambassador to Mizoo Charles Austin has upped stakes from the clutches of stupid BlogSpot and FINALLY moved to capacious and swanky new digs at http://sinequanon.spleenville.com/. All of you be a'changing your bookmarks and permalinks and such and go tell him hello.

AND, IN LIKE MANNER...Young Christopher Johnson of the Midwest Conservative Journal has unmoored from the crumbling seaside of Bloggerdom to also sail into a new homeport at http://mcj.bloghorn.com/. Again, for proper enjoyment, please adjust your receivers to the proper frequency.

posted by Terry at 12:08:00 PM

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