Islam is neither the problem nor the solution

One of my favorite counselors when I went to summer camp as a kid was a guy named Farouk.
Egyptian and a Muslim, if memory serves me, he also looked a lot like Omar Sharif at the same age, like this photo.
Now this was a long time ago (the early 60s, actually), and there wasn't the 'oh my gawd he's a Muslim' problem he'd face trying to get the same job today.
But, knowing what I've learned since, I'm sure he wasn't a very serious Muslim, yet he did believe in the beauty and power of his religion, as many religionists do.
So, when it came time for our camp unit to come up with a skit for the camp talent show it was suggested by Farouk, and unanimously approved by the kids, that we all learn the proper Islamic way of prayer.
Come talent show day, there's a whole line of prepubescent American boys (mostly blond and freckle-faced) standing up, saying "There is no God but Allah" (in proper Arabic), kneeling down, prostrating ourselves, and doing the whole ritual that millions of Muslims do every day around the globe.
Did it feel ridiculous? Sure, but no more so than any genuflecting religious gestures would have, especially for an irreligious kid that age. (Though several million Islamic kids do it twice a day without a thought.)
In retrospect, am I happy I did that? Sure. Even more so than going to Catholic church with my altar boy buddy from junior high school. Even more so than attending Jewish services later in life. Even more so because Farouk was not only an incredibly sweet guy, he was married to an incredibly buxom and beautiful redhead he'd met and married while at UCLA.
So, if you think I hate Muslims, you're wrong. No more than I hate Jews (even the orthodox ones, who are just ragheads of a different stripe), or Catholics, or even Protestants. (Well, some Protestants, but they make it easy.)
I don't hate the people, even the ones who insist that theirs is the Way. I just hate the fact that belief in any Way makes people do stupid, hurtful things (oh, the Inquisition, say, or the Holocaust) that they don't really need to do.
So if you read things in this blog that make you angry, so be it. Anger is a good thing, sometimes. But just be sure what you're angry at before you respond; is it really me, or is it your own blindness and belief structure?

Offend you? I haven't even gotten started

Lest anyone think that I have it in for Muslims or the Left or any particular crowd of idiots, let me point out that I am an equal opportunity curmudgeon.
I'm not very amused by the beliefs of any of the organized religions in this world (in case a careful reading of my blog hadn't already convinced you of that), along with much of what passes for popular philosophy.
I think that damn near 90% of the people on the planet are too stupid to get out of their own way, can't drive for shit, are selfish and ignorant, and are mostly taking up space that could be better used by wild animals and plants.
Since they're doing such a good job of killing each other off (from Baghdad to Philadelphia), far be it from me to discourage them.
Let's just say that I will protect me and mine, and I will advocate the use of whatever force is necessary (oh, yeah, and a little bit extra, just to make sure) to fend off anyone who attacks me and mine, whether it's on the street or over the Pole. So, whether it's a Glock or a nuke, know that, if I have it, I'll use it. If I don't have it, I'll ask someone who does to do me a favor.
So, if you're thinking of fucking with me or my loved ones (or my country), think again. Or it's dirt nap time for you, sorry.

And here you thought they were just kidding

Some people may think this is idle political hoo-hah. Some people may think it's just "high spirits". Some people, like me, think these people are deadly serious about this, and will do damn near anything to make it happen.
Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't like it if it was Catholics, Jews, or even Buddhists with the same slogan. Domination? No thanks. I don't care who you are, or what idiocy you profess. Remember Khruschev and his "we will bury you"? Didn't work for him, nor Communism, and it ain't gonna work for these guys, either...

We have a winner

I've been engaged in reworking an existing website (never a fun job) for the Delaware Blues, a Civil War shooting club of which I'm a proud member. I've been using the new Apple application iWeb for the purpose.
Now, I've done a website or two (or a dozen), mostly using Adobe GoLive of late, and this is the best experience creating html that I've ever had. It acts just like a word processor (and you can see the influences of their application Pages, which I've been using and love, at work here), but it easily handles all the html coding for you.
This is, basically, the word processing application I spec'd out when I was working at Claris (much like Pages, which is undoubtedly why I like it so), but they never created. (The weasels; we'd have had a killer app out for nearly two decades now.)
We'll still have to see how it uploads, though I anticipate no problems there.
Rico says check it out: http://www.delawareblues.info/

Word for the day

Moggy: an affectionate term for a domestic cat, but is also used as alternate name for a mongrel or mixed-breed cat whose ancestry and pedigree are unknown.
We just got one. It's my first cat (several dogs previously, never a cat, except second-hand). I'm very happy.
Pictures later but, trust me, she's cute.

What part of 'never forget' don't you understand?

Six years on, it still makes me choke up. And it makes me mad all over again. For those apologists who say that we should just forgive and forget, I say 'never'.
I also say "kill 'em all, let God sort 'em out."
That's not a racist thing (I don't care what they were nor where they came from), and not even a religious thing (I don't care any more about their religious delusions than I do the Religious Right in this country, who I think are as much of a danger as the jihadis.)
It's a self-preservation thing.
I'm very committed to that. Along with the preservation of my fellow Americans and our much-maligned-but-still-desired-by-everybody American Way of Life.
And if it takes killing every last turban-wearing, Allah-chanting, foreign (or domestic, as you'll find I'm an equal-opportunity curmudgeon) motherfucker who professes hate for Americans to keep things like that in the photos above from happening again, so be it.

Just in case you didn't figure it out before

It translates, I'm told, as "No surrender." Given what we're up against, I think it's the only attitude we can take. I hope it won't take another 9.11 equivalent attack for everyone to really get it that 'those people' (as Robert E. Lee alway said of Union troops) don't have our best interests at heart.

Some things just sum it all up

Listen, if you can (I found it painful, even six years later to the day), to the almost casual conversation of the people on the ground, and the 'trying to control my panic' conversation of Betty Ong, a flight attendant on Flight 11, on its way to the World Trade Center.
Then tell me, please, why it is that I'm supposed to be all nice and 'can't we all just get along' about the people who did this?
Fuck 'em. Shoot 'em in the head. Drop biological weapons on them. (Why, oh why, did we ever give that program up?) I'd say use nukes, but that's not a nice thing for the environment. (But, hey, it sure settled the hash of the Japanese who, if anything, were more war-like than the jihadis.)
As Michelle Malkin noted on her blog (which is where I found this video; my blogosphere thanks to her): "But remembrance without resistance to jihad and its enablers is a recipe for another 9/11... Not every American wears a military uniform. But every American has a role to play in protecting our homeland–not just from Muslim terrorists, but from their financiers, their public relations machine, their sharia-pimping activists, the anti-war goons, the civil liberties absolutists, and the academic apologists for our enemies."
Amen to that. To that end, on this blog I shall endeavor to "strive on with diligence". (The last words, supposedly, of the Buddha, they say.)

Sometimes ya gotta break the rules

Not that I'd ever do that, of course...
But when you get a classic spam message like this:

Dear Friend,
I wish to inform you about my success in getting those funds transferred under the cooperation of a new partner from Japan. Now I am in Japan for investment projects with my partner. Therefore contact my secretary in Cotonou Benin Republic his information are below;
MR.David John
Email: (david_john9_9@yahoo.fr)
He will send you a CERTIFIED BANK DRAFT of ($800.000.00 ) compensation which I kept for all the past efforts and attempts you made to assist me in that transaction.
Most importantly, send to him your current Contact Address and your Telephone Numbers to enable him send you the BANK DRFAT.
Please let me know immediately you receive it so that I can share the joy with you.
Thanks and God bless you.
MR. Nike Obi

sometimes you just gotta respond, if only like this:

Do people actually respond to shit like this? (I know, I know, I'm breaking all the rules of the internet and writing back myself, but sometimes you can't resist.)
While I doubt seriously that you're willing to 'share the joy' with me to the tune of 800, let alone 800,000, dollars, it is an amusing notion.
Since I am (if one-sidedly) done with this conversation, you need not reply. I will not engage either of you in further pleading and denials.
Just know that you have provided a moment's amusement in the internet world; it's worthy of another post on my blog, but I wouldn't know how to write up my total derision for you and this phenomenon.
Do, please, find some other way to amuse yourself. (Though why is it that you guys always have such weird names, like someone out of "Buckaroo Banzai in the Eighth Dimension"? I know that the Nigerians, and maybe the folks in Benin for all I'm aware, have odd-by-American-standards names, but 'David John'? Yet the davidjohn99 is such a nice touch, though it's scary to think that there's another 98 of him out there.)
If anyone's stupid enough to pay you some 'finder's fee' in an attempt to get their hands on the magical 800,000 bucks, take it. A fool and his money may be soon parted, but an internet fool should be taken immediate advantage of.
While I doubt you are in the Benin Republic, wherever you are, I hope your computer suddenly and mysteriously melts down around your fingers...

But don't you love things like "Dear Friend", "his information are below", and "drfat" (I knew he meant draft, and everyone types badly once in awhile, but still...), and "share the joy"?
I was lying about not putting him on my blog, of course; how could one resist? Besides, I have no problem coming up with any necessary amount of derision...

All my exes live in Texas

Seems there's a movement afoot to hound, persecute, and even kill 'apostate' Muslims, those who've renounced their faith.
Seems that there are no more ex-Muslims than there are ex-Marines.
The difference being, of course, that if a former Marine announces he doesn't want that label any more, the Corps doesn't try to have him killed...

Another cranky old man chimes in

H.L. Mencken once wrote that "every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats".
For those whose knowledge of things piratical is limited, the black flag (with or without a symbol, often a skull and crossed bones like the one above) denoted the intention to attack, while pirate ships would fly red streamers to indicate that they would 'give no quarter' (meaning to take no prisoners) in the ensuing battle.
In addition, a black flag was the first and only symbol used by Muhammad to represent his religion, and it was the flag flown by Abdur Rahman Khan over his caliphate in Afghanistan from 1880-1901.

Another year in the Thousand Year War

Photograph taken by one of the staff of Level3.com, an ISP in NYC.

It's hard to believe that it's been six years since Chris and I were on the ferry in Nantucket, hearing the shouting coming up from the pier; soomething about a small plane hitting the World Trade Center. Little knowing, we all gathered in the cabin to listen to Peter Jennings on the radio, describing our national introduction to Hell…

I think a woman working the relief effort for the rescue workers in NYC on Day Three put it best: “I’ve gone past the crying, and now I’m angry. I want retaliation. I want no man standing who did this to us.”

Those in the sandbox (and elsewhere, including some here at home) who think that the Americans are soft and weak and won't respond if attacked should remember that...

Not that it's a problem, mind you

From Michelle Malkin's blog:
"Foreign-born residents accounted for 55 percent of TB cases nationwide in 2005 — the last year for which statistics were available. The greatest number of foreign born cases, 25 percent, or 1,942 cases, came from Mexico, followed by the Philippines, Vietnam, and India. In 1993, foreign-born residents made up 29 percent of reported TB cases."

Not that we need to spend more money overseas, but sometimes it makes sense.
Instead of trying to catch these folks when they come across the border, let's promote (hell, even the through the UN, if that's what it takes) innoculation programs in the top 10 infected countries (starting with Mexico, then the Philippines, Vietnam, and India.) Let alone all those poor bastards in the Russian prison system with the really ugly stuff...
Sure, it'll cost us.
What do you think having drug-resistant TB loose in the general population will cost us?
Cough, cough...

Check Hell for icing conditions

Oh, my gawd, I'm agreeing with Hillary Clinton:
“I believe we should start bringing our troops home,” she said during the debate at the University of Miami. “We need to quit refereeing their civil war and bring our troops home as soon as possible.”

It's worse than that, of course.
The place isn't even really a country, and the collection of antipathy they call citizens are never going to get along.
Give up, cut it up (see my post on the illogic of Iraq at Between Iraq and a hard place below), and bring the boys home.
The resulting bloodbath, while regrettable, will make for great Nightly News television... (They'll blame it all on George Bush, unfortunately, but Truman had to get us out of Korea and Johnson had to get us out of Vietnam, so he'll survive.)
If only those fucking ragheads hadn't tried to whack George Bush Senior on the orders of Saddam Hussein, none of this would have happened. Oh, yeah, and that 9.11 thing...

Thanks to Al Gore

Don't know when they put all the additional data into Google Maps, but I think it's incredible. (It smacks of global outsourcing, but maybe there's a way to computer generate it.)

I hate mysteries

Given the disappearence of months of my life lately, along with a few other weirdnesses, I do so hate mysterious behavior. (Or, as Tommy Lee Jones memorably put it in Lonesome Dove: "I hate rude behavior in a man. I will not tolerate it.")
Thus, when I went to check on my AT&T bill (especially given all the internet traffic about huge bills), I was startled to see it's currently $236.
That's pretty weird, considering my all-in plan is only $79.99 a month.
Needless to say, a rocket email went to AT&T Customer Service, with a WTF attitude.
We'll see what they say.

What they said was that they'll billing me for last month and this month, plus an installation fee and a few other miscellaneous things.
It works out to be right, but at least it's not like the bill someone else got:






















According to my friend:
"They mistakenly took off the free data feature and began charging him for text messages and data. This bill includes charges for 300 MB of data. AT&T says they will fix it, but we'll see."
Thank goodness they didn't do that to me; I'd've said many bad things to many people...

Sunday in the park with Christine

Another big Delaware Valley Community College flea market, and we only bought a few things.
Not for lack of walking up and down and up and down in the sun, however; people just didn't seem to bring things we couldn't live without.
Amazingly, we're about tied for purchases today. I only spent twenty bucks (or less; I haven't done a real accounting), and got some good things.
Very little 'guy' stuff there, as usual.

I'm shocked, shocked...

Seems that eleven New Jersey politicians, all Democrats, were bagged by the FBI in various sting operations.
You can see the actual criminal complaints here: http://www.usdoj.gov/usao/nj/press/2007releases.html
If nothing else, this proves that the whole racial equality thing has been worked out in New Jersey, given that most of the eleven were minorities. Glad to see that they quickly learned the political lessons of the Italians and Irishmen who preceded them...

Anyone who knows my 11:11 fetish from earlier posts (see Eleben eleben) will be amazed, as I was, at this from http://postsecret.blogspot.com
Chris is a big follower of the site, but this certainly caught my eye...

Fighting back, if slowly

This is me, wearing my "Got Rum?" t-shirt (to go with the patch, of course) and my personal trainer at Fighting Back, a local 'rehab after rehab' program. (What? You don't have one? They're all the rage these days.) As anyone who knows me will attest, I've never been a huge fan of exercise, especially for its own sake (my best workouts were when I was on sabbatical in Hawai'i and had to ride my bicycle six miles into town if I wanted to eat), but this program, especially given his care and hard work, has been very good for me. As you may recall, I basically lay on my back for six months, and did little more than walk around after that, even in Florida. But I'm rediscovering muscles I'd forgotten I had, and generally toning up and losing weight. (Down to 237, which I last saw back in 1994 or so...)
And, yes, he has one or two tattoos. Thanks for noticing. I, as of yet, have none, though there may be a small and discreet 'kuma' ideogram on my chest in my future, if I can stand getting it.

Crack of dawn doesn't

I'm not sure what the fuck is up with my head, but I've been waking up (and usually getting up, worse yet) at very early hours for awhile now.
This, of course, amuses my parents, who both had to struggle for years when I was young to get me out of bed for necessary things like going to school.
Even my long-suffering ladyfriend asked plaintively the other day, as I was getting up at some ridiculous hour, "Whatever happened to that lump of man who loved to sleep in?"
Hell if I know.
Given that I got up the first time at 2am, went back to bed, and got up again (because lying there awake is stupid) at about 4, I'd say I'm not sleeping well.
Seems that the less wake-up medicine (as in Provigil) that I take, the more awake I am.
My mother was prone to just this sort of counterintuitive reaction to medicine, so I may have inherited that, I suppose...
Whatever, here it is 4.30am, and though I'm yawning a bit, I am definitely awake.
Fortunately, the ladyfriend is still snug abed, and if I know what's good for me I won't wake her up.
So it's tiptoe off to the kitchen and get some juice, and back here for more oh-dark-thirty computing.

Elmore Leonard should be proud

This is the Western we would have made instead of Four Hand Draw, if only we'd had a few million bucks and the services of Russell Crowe. Whether you're an Elmore Leonard fan or not (I am, and have been for years) this is an incredible Western.
Both Crowe and Bale are great in their roles, and the photography is some of the best I've ever seen in a movie. (And it looks just like the lighting we were trying for in Four Hand Draw, too.) If you see only one of the new releases this fall, make it this one. Amazingly enough, this is one of those rare sequels that's not only as good, but even better, than the original.
Period guns and leather (when was the last time you saw a Spencer used properly in a movie?), authentic costuming, good sets, marvelous casting and acting, and a great script drawn from the Elmore Leonard story.
Rico says it's a winner.

For an equally glowing review (and why should you take my opinion as gospel, other than the fact you're stupider than you look if you don't), see: http://www.shootingwire.com/

Falling in slow motion

Since one of the goals of this whole operation is not only to keep off the weight I lost (the hard way, trust me) in the hospital, but continue onward toward my goal weight of 200, I am pleased to report that I am down to 237 this morning (after breakfast, even).
More to go.

Politically incorrect, unfortunately

This from an article about the state of black studies 'scholarship' in American universities:
"Black studies is a joke, a pitiful and preposterous burlesque of scholarship foisted on the academy in the holy name of diversity."

(See the whole article at http://newcriterion.com:81/archive/12/sep93/baker.htm)

I knew I liked him

For more than his writing, too.

This, from Tom McGuane's memories of Richard Brautigan:
"He also had an old standard army automatic. It's got a lot of kick and makes a big hole, but what he liked about it was that he thought it was a completely honest product of American manufacture. He had a fascination with the army Colt because it seemed to sum up gun owning, democratic gun manufacture, and excellence, all in one thing."

It does to me, too (this isn't mine, but looks just like it):

I remember that

Another blog (the Humble Farmer; see my sidebar list) mentioned a book in a recent post: Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan.
Being the quasi-hippie Californian of the 60s that I was (hey, I'm old; so sue me), I read all of Brautigan's stuff:
A Confederate General from Big Sur
In Watermelon Sugar
Revenge of the Lawn
All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
The Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster
The Abortion: An Historical Romance
Rommel Drives on Deep into Egypt

and, of course, my favorite, and a book I want to make into a movie some day, starring Charles Bronson (yes, I know, I know, he's been dead for awhile, but he wasn't when I thought of it, so play along) The Hawkline Monster: A Gothic Western
I recommend that you read any on this list, but if you read nothing else try The Hawkline Monster. A great story, and well written.
If you want to know more about the man himself, including a nice little set of photos and reminiscences by his friends and family, check http://brautigan.cybernetic-meadows.net/tiki-index.php?page=Manso+1985+Brautigans+Wake

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

"Jihad is a duty of any Muslim; only through it Islam could survive. It is not only to expand Dar-al-Islam, but also to impose the 'holy' and absolute despotism of the Islamic ruling institutions on the 'Umma'...
"It was thought that when the Prophet passed on that the Dar-al-Islam had started its sudden end. However, Islam was already institutionalised; it was an ideological tool of the politically established ruling class."
This quote is from what passes for a 'reasonable' blog about Islam: http://www.mideastyouth.com/2007/09/05/jihad-is-a-justification-of-aggression/

These people do not have our best interests in mind...
If you think there's no reason to wage war against people like this, prepare for dhimmi-hood.
Sorry, but I don't think the life of a dhimmi works for me, so it's lock and load until further notice...

Liar, liar, pants on fire

Seems that the famed MSM has been doing some unethical things over the years:

http://www.americanthinker.com/2007/08/ its_not_just_scott_beauchamp.html

What a surprise, right? Not.

Ah, them Swedes

It's not like I haven't done this before (I've been using their furniture for years), but it is still amazing to me that I, with my impaired vision, poor balance, and less-than-perfect motor skills, can unpack and assemble my new Billy bookshelves (see http://www.ikea.com/us/en/ to order them; I recommend them highly) for my office:

What a maroon

I don't know how long I can keep getting away with "because I had a brain injury", but hopefully awhile longer yet.
I sent an email invitation to my friend Damon about upcoming movies I wanted to see with him, and included Casino Royale in the list.
Ah, he wrote back, that one's been out awhile.
When I went back to look at the Fandango listing, there it was, 17 November.
Unfortunately, that was last year, as in 2006.
It was, however, only about two weeks before the landmine went off in my head, so I may be forgiven for not having that fact in my long-term memory.
Guess I'll have to rent the DVD...

Pushing five grand

While it's a pathetic number in the blogosphere (any blogger worth their salt gets that every few minutes), my visitor count is approaching 5,000.
Still more people than my previous world's indoor record, which was however many people I'd send my books or stories too. In the old days, of course, when I was writing for Graphics Journal, I got read by almost the full circulation of 25,000 on a monthly basis. That was a specialized rant, of course, but I did write some cogent (and sometimes funny) stuff about the graphics industry. (Or gwafix, as I called some of the stupid stuff that people did, and still do, in the design business.)
And it looks like I'm back in the shit again regarding my latest novel; the publisher emailed me yesterday with that old one about "it was a very enjoyable read, but we just did not think it was quite right for us, as our list is quite full and we would not be able to give it the attention it would otherwise deserve in order for us to publish it successfully." I'd love to sic you on them, but they're nice enough folks and, who knows, maybe they'll want the next one. And there will be a next one, I promise. I know, I know, I said awhile back that if this one didn't sell I'd hang it up and go work at McDonald's. Well, thank to the bleeding in my brain, that ain't happening either. I'm a much better writer than I am a counter person ("Do you want fries with that? No? Then go fuck yourself..."), so I think I'll stick to writing, thank you. I am working on a non-fiction piece about my recent experiences with the medical profession, and it may even be interesting. There are those who've pushed for me to give up all this fiction silliness and do some non-fiction and, who knows, it might even work. I'll be back to novels after that, however; I enjoy them, and the creative process required to write one, too much. Besides, I'm never going to afford the Silly Big Boat (and the indolent lifestyle to go with it) without either hitting the lottery or publishing something. Given my luck, so far, buying lottery tickets, I guess I'll get back to the computer now...

Not the opiate of the people

Had a 'discussion' with the ladyfriend tonight over my disparagement (loudly and repeatedly while watching a news program showing the Baptist convention in Philadelphia; the African-American Baptists, not the Jimmy Carter Baptists) of religion.
Since she's a lapsed Catholic, I'm not sure why this torques her so, but it does. And what about my professed adherence to Zen Buddhism, she asked me. How can I claim to be one and yet be so nasty about other people's religions?
Well, first off, I tried haltingly to explain, Zen Buddhism isn't really a religion, but a philosophical structure.
And all those other guys, well, they have some serious belief structures going that I don't happen to agree with.
Didn't cut it.
I'm not to disparage other people's religious beliefs.
Right.
Remember that Buddha was an Indian prince named Siddhartha Gautama, born in about 563BC in what is now Nepal, who renounced his privileges and took up a life of poverty and teaching. The fact that his teachings caught on much more in China (and, later, in Japan, where it took on the Zen spin that I like), rather than in India, is but one of those little quirks of history. (While Hinduism doesn't require you to renounce wealth and position, though you can if you want, and actually promotes displays of wealth, it ended up being a lot more interesting to the teeming millions of poor people in India.) But he's not like that Jewish guy born in Year One in Jerusalem, or that Arab guy born in 570AD in Mecca. Buddha emphasized that he was not a god nor the messenger of a god, and that Enlightenment was not the result of a supernatural process or agency, but rather the result of a close attention to the nature of the human mind which could be rediscovered by anyone for themselves. His last words are purported to be "Strive on with diligence.". That's what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, now that I've been given a second chance at it.
Just in case you want to try and understand the difference between my man Buddha and those other guys, imagine any religious icon of your choice in this story from http://tricycleblog.blogspot.com/ (but note the date of the purported interview):

Scranton, PA.
This reporter was granted a rare five minute interview with Shakyamuni Buddha today, April 1, when the Buddha unexpectedly turned up at the T.G.I. Friday's Restaurant off of Route 6. "Sure, why not, we can talk for a minute while my buddy's using the bathroom," he said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. He offered some chicken wings. "No, that's a misunderstanding," he said in reply to a question about his alleged vegetarianism. "My assistant, Ananda, wrote that part down wrong a couple of times. I've got a real secretary now to make sure we don't have those kind of mistakes. Ananda was a great guy, don't get me wrong--terrific memory and all that. Bad hearing though. And let me clear up this whole debate about whether my last meal was mushrooms or pork. Both sides have got it wrong. It was actually panda, imported from China. Man, that stuff just falls right off the bone," he added wistfully.
Asked about the widespread belief that he had passed away into permanent parinirvana, the Buddha looked around, leaned in close, and whispered, "Publicity stunt." Besides, he continued, he likes to lay low because people are always making demands of him. "I get prayers all day and all night. It's always someone like little Susy saying, 'Buddha, bring me a pony!' And I'm like, 'Listen kid, didn't you get the memo? I don't bring ponies. Geez, I left you people 84,000 dharma teachings--do you know how sore my throat got? When did anybody ever read the 'Prajnaparamita Here Have a Pony Sutra'? That's right, never. Sheesh, what does it take to get a point across to you people?" He took a swig of Diet Dr. Pepper.
I asked him if, being omniscient, he had any revelations about the future he'd like to share. "Don't worry about the future," he counseled, "just stick with the present moment." But after a moment a devilish grin crossed his face and he seemed to reconsider. "Okay, okay, I'll give you guys a little something. Y'all are never going to believe who the next Dalai Lama is gonna be." Pressed for more information, he just kept smiling and shaking his head. Finally he relented. "One hint: Did you ever see that movie last year, Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Nice looking couple. Well, do you think I'd go through so much effort to convert half of Hollywood for no reason?"
The Buddha said that he's been happy in his retirement. Right now he's watching a lot of American Idol, and he's been making regular trips to Louisiana to do Hurricane Katrina relief work. He's also been considering converting to Judaism. "There's this whole thing these days of JuBus, Jews who practice Buddhism. I kind of thought it's the least I could do to show my appreciation. Problem is, the damn yarmulke keeps sliding off my bald head."
At this point his companion, Amitabha, returned from the men's room. "Takes a while to go," he admitted. "Buddhas have a retracted penis in a sheath, didn't you know. It's one of the 32 marks. Anyway, you can imagine how that complicates things. Plus there's the whole robes issue." At this point it was time to end the interview, but Shakyamuni agreed to take one last question. Asked about how things were going in the Pure Land, he sighed. "Getting kind of crowded over there. But I've worked out a new time-share scheme which I think is really going to take off. You want some brochures? If you come to one of our sessions, you get a free TV."

Try telling that with Jesus or Mohammed as the central character in a room full of believers. (With a loaded gun to hand, of course; some of those believers can get testy when they think you're mocking their religion.) The difference is that a roomful of Buddhists (well, maybe not those whack jobs out of Sri Lanka, but I'm not convinced they're true believers, as opposed to being True Believers) would be laughing their asses off all the way through. I did, even upon rereading it just now. And that's what Zen Buddhism will get you, people; the ability to laugh at all this. And having been closer to death than most of you recently, laughing at it all is a requirement for making it through life, trust me.

Wherever the edge was, I passed it awhile back

I suspect it was the "motherfucker" in yesterday's post that put Chris over the edge.
It appears that some of my rants are, to quote her, "stupid, racist, pigheaded" and some other choice words that I've forgotten. (Damn that short term memory loss.)
Suffice it to say that she's not happy with some of the things I say in this blog. The upshot is that she no longer wants people who visit the blog of my illness (markwseymour.blogspot.com) to come here and find out what a real jerk she saved.
So, from now on, you can get there from here, but you can't get here from there, except by going there and coming back.
My apologies to all offended, especially Chris. I owe her more than I can describe, and I'm sorry she doesn't like certain aspects of me any longer...

Why she still loves me, I have no idea, but I am incredibly lucky that she apparently does.
I will endeavor to be less of all those things she doesn't like in the future.
(Don't hold your breath. You don't look good in blue.)

Leave Blogger? I don't think so

I note an interesting trend of late, among the blogs I follow (those in the sidebar, for instance).
Some of them are bailing on the use of Blogger as a home for their blogs, and going to domain-specific websites instead.
It's a small nuisance for me, because I have to update the links in the sidebar so that we can all visit them in their new electronic homes.
But blogging is so damn easy via Blogger, I can't imagine wanting to spend the money for hosting just to get away from it. (Though I do have more than one URL hosted with a nice local ISP, though, so I guess I could if I wanted to.)
I think I'll be here for awhile...

See you and raise you, motherfucker

Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver ain't got nothing on this guy. Nick Hume, well-played as a regular dad by Kevin Bacon, basically wanders into the middle of a bunch of gang bangers (fortunately a mixed-race gang; this isn't about race, it's about power) and gets his son killed in a gas station robbery/gang initiation. That's bad. But when he goes to court to testify against the one guy they caught, he decides to do some case-nullification, and blows the ID. The judge has no choice but to let the guy go. Things get worse from there.
In the end, the bad guys show up and shoot everyone. Amazingly (this is the 'gang that couldn't shoot straight'), Nick lives, as does his other son. His wife (well played by the good-looking Kelly Preston) unfortunately dies. Nick goes, predictably, ballistic and hunts down the remainder of the gang in a really nasty, dark housing complex and there's the obligatory long, drawn-out shoot-out in the last half hour or so of the film.
The whole problem here, unfortunately, is that poor Nick (until it's far too late) never held a gun in his life. (This is made obvious by his clumsy dropping-bullets moves when he finally breaks down and gets some guns.) I would call this film a great recruiting poster for the NRA and concealed-carry permits (plus some gun training, too; Nick chooses a hammered double shotgun as his main weapon of choice. Good gun for cowboy action shooting, bad gun for urban shootouts). If Nick had been carrying anything bigger than a popgun at the beginning of the film, it would have been over before it started, and his whole family would have been alive. (And Nick would not, as he undoubtedly did by the end of the film, go to jail for his well-meaning vigilante actions.) But that's not the movie the director chose to make, nor did Brian Garfield write the original book that way. But when you look at Garfield's film bio and realize that he wrote all the Death Wish books and movies, you begin to understand where this story came from. (He also wrote the novel behind The Last Hard Men, a good Western equivalent where Charlton Heston has to take down a gang who've kidnapped his daughter out of revenge for his putting them in jail years earlier.)
All in all, a good movie. Some of it is tough to watch, but it's very well made, and Kevin Bacon is very good as a good man driven to do bad things. The bad guys, of course, are a touch stylized (a lot of heavy tattoos, stupid behavior, the usual), but what did you want, sympathetic bad guys?
Spoiler: John Goodman plays the wacko illicit gun dealer who sells the guns to Nick that solve his problem; he's also the father of one of the bad guys. End of spoiler
There's some clumsy gun-handling in it, because most of Hollywood don't know shit about guns, but at least there was nothing egregiously stupid. The effects were good, if you like shotguns blowing holes in things and people falling down with blood coming out of them. I'd see it again, not right away (too depressing), but eventually. If you don't mind a good revenge movie, you should go see it, or rent it when it goes to DVD. If you hate violence (even well-deserved violence), don't go see this one.

I must have been away

Seems that a lot of things happened in the Duke rape case while I was out of it.
Checking the "Carolina' blog (see my sidebar of links to other blogs), it seems that not only were the lacrosse players exonerated of the rape charge, but that the District Attorney (with the oh-so-perfect-for-bloggers name of Nifong) has now been indicted himself.
Couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Hope he gets convicted and sent up the river. (That's 'rivah', in North Carolina.)
Let this be a lesson to the politically-correct freaks out there.

Bought and paid for

That about sums it up, don't it?

Fiction? Not really

If you think this isn't happening, you haven't been paying attention...

Bond? James Bond?

Well, he's no Sean Connery, but then, who is? I have yet to see Casino Royale (the new one; I saw the 'original' way back when it came out, and it was terrible then and no better now. Ian Fleming was right to be pissed about the clowns who made it), but I intend to. I hope Daniel Craig does a good job as Bond; none of the actors since Connery have...

No, but we can damn sure try...

Chingo Bling, the Ghetto Vaquero, known for his Ghetto Ingenuity is one of the hottest artists to emerge from Houston in the past four years. Unmistakably original, Chingo Bling embodies everything the world has come to expect from Houston hip-hop and more. And now he is about to bring it to every corner with his newly signed partnership with Asylum Records.

from Michelle Malkin's blog

Asylum Records? Of course, who else?
This guy was apparently born here, so we damn sure can't deport him. (Though if he happened to take a vacation in his parent's homeland, Mexico, and 'forgot' to take his passport... Who am I kidding?)
I'm sure he'll sell a bunch of records in LA with this attitude...

Devoutly to be wished

"Planning continued for a major demonstration Sept. 12 on the Mall in Washington to highlight the plight of illegal immigrants, Lozano said. Calling it 'A Day Without Immigrants', Lozano said the protest would revolve around a national boycott in which immigrants would be called on to stay away from their jobs and classrooms and refrain from making any purchases."

from Michelle Malkin's blog

Oh, for a moment there I thought they were planning for immigrants to stop coming across the border illegally on 12 September. My mistake.

Oh, no they wouldn't do that...

The FBI is asking for the public’s help in identifying two men who have been seen acting strangely aboard ferries in the state of Washington recently. According to federal agents, passengers have seen the men on several occasions exhibiting unusual behavior. The FBI did not say precisely what that unusual behavior entailed. Anyone who knows the men or there whereabouts are asked to call the FBI at (206) 622-0460.

But, of course, it's stupid to think that anyone casing public transportation, especially someone who looks like a Middle Eastern male, might want to cause harm to the public...

(Washington State ferry riders: if you catch them casing the ferry, as in "exhibiting unusual behavior" like taking photos of sensitive areas or trying to get into secure spaces like the engine room, during your next ride, you have my permission to seize these two nimrods and put them over the side.)

Another rite of summer

It's yard sale day.
There's a whole garage full of stuff (very little of it mine), the ad's up on Craig's List, and the signs are up around the neighborhood.
Now we just await the hordes of bargain hunters.
It's going to be my job, apparently, to record who sold what, so the loot can be divy'd up later.
I'll report on our earnings when the day's over.

Well, we didn't do as well as we'd hoped, of course.
Not the hoped-for hordes of desperate bargain-seekers.
But Chris and Maureen did well, and I made a few bucks myself.
Plus it was a glorious day (warm but not hot, low humidity), and we got to sit in the shade and take money all day.
Not the worst way to spend a Saturday.

And here you thought I only liked Macintosh

Well, you were right.
I helped my ladyfriend install a fax machine/printer/scanner (one of HP's finest) last night, which included installing the driver software on her Gates machine.
It was a long process.
Which involved her cursing (which she rarely does), sniveling (even rarer), and throwing things around the office. (Folders full of papers, mostly.)
It was an unusual display of pique, but the situation well warranted it.
Yet again, I have to apologize to all you poor bastards who're forced to use Windows as an operating system: I was alone in a room with Bill Gates, circa 1985, and he left the room alive.
Sorry. If I'd only known...

Men are stupid

I've succeeded, if that's the word, in pissing off the ladyfriend.
Too hard to describe how we got here, but suffice it to say that it's my own stupidity, as usual.
Not sure how long it'll take to work itself out, but things are unhappy at chez Seymour just now.
When you love someone as much as I do Chris, it's a bad thing when you make them mad.
As I've always said, the loss of that one leg of the X chromosome was more dangerous than we knew...

Pontine is better

There turn out to be other pontine (or bridge-related) things out there, which only reinforce my notion that what hit the pons area of my brain was a Pontine haemorrhage. There were the Pontine marshes, of course, a Roman-era engineering project where they drained a huge marshy area and reclaimed it as farmland. There are Pontine islands (photo), off the western coast of Italy. They look very pretty in the website, and I hope to make a journey there some day in homage to my condition.
A Google search turned up many other pontine things, most of them nasty medical conditions that I don't want, either.
But it still sounds better than a cavernous angioma. Sorry.

Another "I don't get it" by our allies

The Brits are at it again.
There's a big tizzy going on at the moment about allowing Iraqi translators, who feel threatened if they stay on in Iraq, to take up residency in the UK.
At the same time, there's a movement in the British Government to deny residency to Gurkha veterans, even decorated ones.
(See http://tinyurl.com/2l5y9w for details.)



Now, I will admit to a long-term love affair with the "little brown men from the Himalayas" (I have more than one book on the Gurkhas on my shelves), so I may be prejudiced here.
But taking in the Iraqis and forcing out the Gurkhas is the worst foolishness since the Brits refused to give back Gibraltar, and I hope that popular sentiment forces them to cave on this one. Ingrates...

Some tests you don't want to win

I just took a "what's your Asperger's score?" test at http://www.piepalace.ca/blog/asperger-test-aq-test/
Asperger's, for those who don't know, is related to autism, and may well be a 'lower' form of the condition.
Geeks, for instance, score high on the test.
The scoring (on 50 questions) runs from 0 to 50, with anything above 32 "generally indicating Asperger's Syndrome or high-functioning autism".
The average math contest winner scored a 24.
The average computer scientist scored a 21.
The average male scientist scored a 19.
The average man scored an 18.
I scored a 26.
Even geekier than I thought, apparently.

Past as prologue

In a recent speech, Dr. Sher Afgan Niazi, the Pakistani Minister for Parliamentary Affairs, referred to "the glorious past of Muslims". (This via jihadwatch.org, which I highly recommend.)
He is right. There have been many glorious moments in history that were inspired by or connected to Islam.
Just not very many of late, however.
The 'glory of Islam' has degenerated into a huge population of whining, self-serving clowns who survive, for the most part, on the gluttonous appetite of the West for petroleum. If only we can break that chain, I suspect that much of the Islamic world will wither on the vine.
Now if only we can convince our glorious leaders to conduct a War on Oil with the same fervor they do the stupid and useless War on Drugs, we'll be fine...

Scary woo-woo people

From an on-line news report about the nationwide anti-gun rallies yesterday:

"I wish we had the power to just close that thing down," former D.C. Mayor and current City Councilman Marion Barry said. "We ought to put a padlock on the door, padlock it."
Barry's colleague, City Councilwoman Yvette Alexander, said "we cannot have anyone with guns other than the law enforcement individuals and our military that were intended."

Therein, alas, is the split between those who hope (foolishly) that law enforcement (note the derivation of the phrase: it's not crime prevention, it's enforcement of the law after it's broken) can and will protect each and everyone of us from the bad guys, and those of us who feel that we should be able to protect ourselves as necessary. (We're ignoring their ignorance of the history of and importance of the Second Amendment.)
The police preventing crime?
Not gonna happen.
Never has, never will.

It appears that there was little, if any, activity in Philadelphia (in spite of our looking-to-be-a-record murder rate this year) about this event. I don't know if it's just apathy or anti-pathy, but I'm happy to see no hysteria in Philly.

Personally, I don't want to rely on the good offices of any police department to come and 'save' me when the bad guys show up at my door. And for those who insist that that is never gonna happen, I suggest a troll through any of the recent news reports about home invasions and street muggings.
There are bad people in this world who do bad things to nice people.
I choose not to be a victim.
If you choose to be a victim, fine. Just don't think that taking away my ability to protect myself and those I love is somehow going to make you safe, too. (And when the bad guys show up and hurt you, and the cops don't show up for a half hour or so after you call 911, don't come complaining to me.)

Just remember: two in the chest, one in the head. And never use a firearm whose caliber doesn't start with a 'four'. (Unless you don't have anything else, then just use a lot of bullets.)

A boo boo by any other name

I've never really liked having a cavernous angioma.
Not only was it hard on my brain, but the very name of it always sounded nasty, like something you'd step in on a bad sidewalk.
Now, however, I've discovered that my ailment has (because of its location in the pons area of my brain, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pons for details) another name, which I like much better:

I had a Pontine hæmorrhage.

That sounds much better. (It's not, of course, but it feels nicer to say, and more manly.)
The society that promotes this condition, of course, is stuck in the 'angioma' phase, but I'm changing the name for me.
Christine pointed out that it's past tense for the hæmorrhage, but that technically I still have a cavernous angioma.
Either way, trust me, you don't want one.

Oh, gee, you have to spend some money

The War on Guns blog (http://waronguns.blogspot.com/) has long floated the notion that we should all go out and buy some ammunition (or any other gub-related object) on 28 August.
I concur.

Lucky, after all

The old joke about 'met a man with one leg' is so true.
My personal trainer (what, you don't have one; they're all the rage) and I were exchanging life stories the other day, and I found out that he'd lost his father (to cancer) two years ago, and is still dealing with the loss.
That made me reflect on how lucky I am to still have all four (remarried after the divorce) parents.
I suspect that won't be true a decade from now, but you never know.
My dad (the blood one) is coming to pick me up in awhile to go root around in my storage locker for some important stuff.
It's the little things in life, like that, that I'll miss when he's gone.
So, if you still have a parent, tell them how much you love them.
Eventually you won't be able to.
If you have a child, same thing.
Do it now. (Hey, you're on the computer; send an email.)

More on the same subject...
Following the lockup run, we had a discussion about me and how I'm living my life.
Not all of it was positive.
Later he foolishly decided to have the same discussion with Chris, my lady love (who hates being called "my badger", but that's just because she doesn't love badgers the way I do), and got both barrels from her about boundaries and parenting.
We're back to being fine now, but it was a bad time in between.
So, when you decide to talk to your parents (or your children), make damn sure you know what you're doing...

Is it just that Bambi thing?

Nope.
Big tizzy over the introduction of hunting on Sunday in Virginia and other states.
(See http://countertopchronicles.com/ for details.)
Not that there are any religious issues here, of course, but all the folks against it fall into the standard Moral Majority swamp.
It does make me laugh, because I'm pretty sure the deer and other target species don't give a damn what day they get shot on...

Overrun is overrun, whatever you call it

The Euroblogsters are constantly referring to the Islamicization of Europe, with the huge influx of Moslem believers into traditionally Christian countries in Europe.
We don't, yet, have the same problem. But we do have a different form of population shift, with the huge influx of Catholic believers coming northwards from Mexico and Central America into the traditionally Protestant United States.
I think we can safely call it the 'Hispanking' of America.
Painful and humiliating, like all spankings.
Just say no.

Why friends are important

Had some friends and family over for snacks and drinks last night. Chris, bless her, made a raft of lovely things to eat, and I'd bought a bottle of nice Scotch for my dad to drink, so everyone was pretty happy. (And full.) My buddy Ivan stayed behind (with his long-suffering ladyfriend Meg) and helped me burn down my Cube so that I could sell it. (Anyone want a nice Mac Cube? 20GB hard disk, a bunch of RAM, and a 15" flat screen. Let's talk.) Amazingly, it's nearly twelve hours later and it's only 20% of the way through the "writing random data to disk" phase...

Driving from the right seat

Why is it that everyone in the Philadelphia area is so hopeless at the standard driving techniques (pulling out, stopping, passing, etc.) that other parts of the country seem to do so much better?
My dad's here from San Diego, and he's shaking his head constantly at the antics of other drivers.
Now that I'm forcibly co-piloting, for the foreseeable future, all I can do is grit my teeth...
I, of course, want desperately to buy one of those full-auto paint ball gubs and have at them out the window when they display their incompetence. (But I'm sure there's a special section of the Vehicle Code that prohibits that.)

Quote for the day

I feel very old sometimes. I carry on, and would not like to die before having emptied a few more buckets of shit on the heads of my fellow men.

Gustave Flaubert

I, too, feel old sometimes. But, like my man Gustave, I carry buckets at the ready.

Between Iraq and a hard place

Let us remember that Iraq was a ‘country’ carved out of the Ottoman Empire at the end of World War One by a couple of ‘gentlemen’ (an Englishman named Sykes and an Frenchman named Picot, may they rot in hell). It was to be a buffer against then-newly-Soviet Russia, and fuck the Turks and the tribes involved. If they’d been thinking, of course, they’d have simply given the Shi’a to the Persians and the Kurds to a carved-out-of-Russia Kurdistan. But they didn’t, of course, and we’re paying the price. (Again the French fuck us!) So let’s undo all that stupid history, skive off the Shi’a and the Kurds, and give the Sunnis in the middle to Saudi Arabia, who at least know how to run an oilfield. (And let’s see how the Sunnis like the Wahabis!)

Tax saving notion

Okay, since no one (not even George Bush) really likes war, let's all agree that we should not commit any dollars or troops to an unpopular war (as determined by referendum).
So, no War on Drugs, no War on Poverty, no War on AIDS, nor War on the Rich...
Gotcha.

Really? Sounds like Jerry Falwell to me...

"The Koran remains for all Muslims, not just 'fundamentalists', the uncreated word of God Himself. It is valid for all times and places; its ideas are absolutely true and beyond all criticism. To question it is to question the very word of God, and hence blasphemous. A Muslim's duty is to believe it and obey its divine commands."

There are one or two fundamentalists in the US who'd buy into this in a second if you just replaced "Koran" with "Bible" and "Muslim" with "Christian" in that sentence.

Just as we thought...

...Democrats talk about it, Republicans act:

http://tinyurl.com/2aybeg

(This was confirmed on Snopes.)

Awesome

Whether you know what a Tesla coil is or not, you need to check this out: http://tinyurl.com/ys9cw4
Some serious electrical behavior.

Who are these people?

I can see the general location of people who read my blog, using the "Where they are" button in the sidebar, and I am always amazed at where some of my readers are located. How, other than random searches, do they ever find me? What must people from obscure countries think of my rants? (Especially those from the Middle East, given my lack of humor about certain Islamic radicals...)
Whoever you are, thanks for reading my stuff.
If it offends you, don't come back.
It ain't likely to get any less so...

iAmazement

I just finished installing the new versions of iLife and iWork.
Jobs and crew have blown me away again.
The ease-of-use apps I've been using for years just got better, plus there's now Numbers, too. (Spreadsheets again! Yippee!)
Plus the new iWeb blows away Adobe GoLive and any of the other html generators, at a tenth of the price and increased ease of use.
Why anyone uses anything but a Macintosh, I do not know...
(And to forestall all those indignant Windows and Linux users out there, fuck you, it ain't the same.)

Can't tell...

...if this is a great piece of Photoshop work, or it really is for sale on the Democratic Party page (for a donation of a mere $382, they say), but either way it's funny as hell.
The inevitable "now you can be just like Bill" jokes, of course, are free...

Guido perfection

Via the Doorman's blog:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xO0orX2mXoo

Scary good, especially if you've ever been in NYC clubs...

Not long for this world

This woman is incredibly brave, and will likely inspire some benighted fool to kill her for her beliefs:

http://switch3.castup.net/cunet/gm.asp?ai=214&ar=1050wmv&ak=nul

Too bad there aren't more like her.

Speaking of the unthinkable...

From the AP wire: "U.S. officials said more than a million pilgrims were expected Thursday in Kazimiyah, but some Iraqi officials put the figure at four million."

Now is when the ban on biological weapons starts to look like a bad idea...

(Oh, just kidding. I'm not really advocating the death of a few million poor innocent Iraqis... But, trust me, there are Iraqis, and others, who'd settle for the deaths of that many innocent Americans in a heartbeat.)

Thinking about the unthinkable

For some of the best of the internet, check out this guy's site:

http://subtopia.blogspot.com/

Not only does he have some great photography of amazing structures, but his discussion with geographer and writer Stephen Graham about the new urban structure is fascinating.

Blog envy

When I read other bloggers (like the Law Dog; you can find him in my sidebar) talking about their half million hits, my nearly 5,000 doesn't seem like much. But, hey, that's 5,000 people who've read my words. If those were novel sales (which i soon hope to have; check back for details), I'd be getting a pretty good advance on the next one. But feel free to tell everyone you know that they should come read my site; one thing writers like best is readers.

What's next

In the okay, I'm alive and maybe going to be okay, what the fuck do I do now category, I need to find something do do. At least until my publisher, bless him, decides to publish my novel and I turn (pop) into a novelist.
Next time I get by the art store, I'm going to pick up a box of Dr. Ph. Martin's Hydrous Watercolors and see if I still have any licks as a painter. (I'm sure a box of his bottles will be a lot more than the last time I bought one, many years ago. But they're still the best.) But there are still some things that direct images portray better than the best writing. If I come up with anything worth looking at, I'll put up some images here. Don't hold your breath; you don't look good in blue.

Quote for the day

"Everything must end; meanwhile we must amuse ourselves."

Voltaire

This blog, among others things, is what I'm doing to amuse myself until Voltaire gets proved right yet again. I hope it amuses you, too. Comments always welcomed; good, bad, or indifferent.

Not that you care...

...but if you do, please make a contribution to the Angioma Alliance: http://www.angiomaalliance.org/donate.html
You can do it on-line, or via snail mail.
We're a little disease, meaning that only 1 in 200 of humans can get it, but it can be devastating to those who, like me, have it sprung on them without notice.
So, next time you get a brain scan, have them look.
Maybe save your life, or a least a lot of difficulty.

Pity ain't got nothing to do with it

There's a wonderful line from the old parody book Bored of the Rings, where Dildo Baggins has failed to kill someone who otherwise deserved it.
When asked why, he said that pity had stayed his hand.
"It's a pity I've run out of bullets, he said."

Seems to apply to this situation as well:
http://www.snopes.com/crime/cops/judd.asp

But, of course, the ACLU is investigating this case of "excessive use of force", as is the FBI.

Pity.

Hot enough for you?

One hot and muggy sumbitch here today.
So glad we came back from Florida, where it's cooler and dryer...
(Truth be told, warmer today, but cooler tomorrow. So sue me.)

Word for the day

New to me, anyway:
Hispandering

Another childhood thing gone forever

In the Good Things They Apparently Don't Make Anymore, the Bastards category, I now have to include one of my childhood favorites, known as Sea Toast.
Really immense unsalted crackers, they were a highlight of many a meal when I was younger.
Eating lunch today, I noted how well some sea toast would have gone with my stew.
Pondering that, I realized I hadn't seen them in awhile.
A little googling, and I discovered that Keebler (those bastard elves again) stopped making it awhile back.
How long?
Who remembers?
But I can still see that big blue box, and taste the delicious crunch of a piece, especially with tuna piled on it...
Damn, another piece of childhood gone.
Bastards.

Eleben eleben

Unfortunately, I have been bitten by the 11.11 bug.
I first started noticing it on the digital clock on our television set, many years ago.
Since then it's become almost a joke, because whenever I look at the clock it says 11.11 or sometimes 1.11.
I know, I know, it happens twice a day (four times, if you count 1.11), and it's only because we started using digital time... (Though when I catch myself looking at an analog clock which says 11.11, that's weird, too. As is seeing it in phone numbers on the sides of taxis, etc., etc.)
Even more unfortunately, the whole phenomenon has been hijacked by the woo-woo crowd (do a google search on 11.11 if you need some sardonic laughter in your life, or if you just need something to read), so my years-long fascination with it has become tainted by all their new age crap about it.
Suffice it to say that I still consider it weird, and wish I knew (reliably) what the fuck it's all about...
If it's aliens, fine, show yourselves and let's get it on.
If it's the End of Times, fine, I've been dead once in the last year anyway.
If it's just a consensual hallucination, fine, but everyone (especially those New Age idiots) should stop blathering about it.
It it's nothing, then I wish it would go away and stop bothering me.

Not far enough, in my less-than-humble opinion

Check out the learned and considered explication that this guy offers:

http://www.familysecuritymatters.org/challenges.php?id=1208740

Here's another cogent view of the same problem by the always-interesting Chrisopher Hitchens:

http://www.slate.com/id/2171371/fr/rss/

Doesn't go far enough.
Fuck 'em, I say.
No more tolerance for those with no tolerance.

What should they get?
"A .44-40 in the brain pan", as Harry Dean Stanton memorably said in Missouri Breaks.

Lost in the internet

So I come back to my machine after being called away to help Chris, and I start reading this post. Gosh, I say, I don't remember writing about this particular subject, and I certainly don't remember being so vociferious about it.
Then I realize, it's not my blog, just one that uses the same template.
Damn that short term memory loss...

But now that we've got that squared away, it's back to surfing.
I'll just have to make sure who I'm reading.

Rare footage of rational newscoverage

Treasure this.
When was the last time that you saw a liberal news organization cover the story this way?

No surprise

Apparently, things caught up with them again:

http://www.kesq.com/Global/story.asp?S=6881791&nav=9qrx

I used to drive by this place all the time when I lived in Berkeley.

More on the underlying story:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-editor4aug04,0,1384344.story?track=mostviewed-storylevel

The truth will out

For a surprising view of things (to me at least), check out this interview:
http://hotzone.yahoo.com/b/hotzone/blogs41058

You'll never think of the news the same way again.

Take your spells and...

...shove 'em up your satanic butts.
I keep getting spam these days from people flogging various magickal spells and satanic worship, and they all start out the same way: "Have you seen the new movie Wicker Man?"
Well, yes, I have seen Wicker Man. But I saw the original, made back in 1973 with Edward Woodward in the lead role, and it made the current version look like classic Hollywood puke. (You can see comparative reviews here (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070917/ ) and here (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0450345/) or here (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/wicker_man/). How they ever got Nick Cage to do so badly, I will never know...)
Remakes are rarely as good as the original, and this was no exception.

Life in a box

I'm off early this morning with Adam, son of my friend Alan, to sort out the last of my East Coast storage locker. (As opposed to my West Coast locker, which I'll get to with my father in a few months.)
I spent a few days earlier this month moving over the contents of my existing locker (a 5x15 space) into my new locker (a 10x15 space), in anticipation of the day when my California crap shows up.
Chris, long-suffering though she is, could barely contain herself while helping me ("What's this? Why do you have this? You have so much useless shit..."), so it's easier to use my friends (Derrick did a yeoman job, hauling immense amounts of heavy stuff so I didn't have to injure myself doing it) and get a different line of inquiry ("What's this? How does it work? It's extremely cool that you have so much interesting stuff...") while doing so.
I do have way too much shit, and I've paid way too much money over the years storing it. But it's my shit, thank you very much, and I enjoy knowing it's around.
Someday, of course, the plan is to have enough house to contain all my shit indoors where I can get at it.
That'll be the day. (John Wayne, in case you didn't recognize the line.)

Eternal gratitude

Lest anyone thing that, now that I'm "all better" (which I'm not), I can do without the careful ministrations of my love Christine, I can't.
I suppose I could survive without her, but it wouldn't be a lot of fun, nor nearly as pleasant.
I know, I know, she did a lot of things for me (cooking, washing, etc.) before all this happened, but it's just the on-going details of life ("Did you take your pills yet?") that she helps me with that make all the difference.
A good woman, a good friend, and a great comfort to me.
When next you see her, give her a hug from me.
Thanks.

Too true

In one of those "you had to be there" moments, a friend sent me this URL:

http://fakesteve.blogspot.com/2006/12/regarding-our-iphone.html

The scary part is how much LIKE the real Steve Jobs it sounds. (Hey, known the guy since the late 70s, and worked at Apple in the mid-80s, so I can say I know what he sounds like in person.)

Can I have some more, please?

Oliver Twist, in case you didn't read the book.
But it's my plea for more email (or at least cogent comments on this blog).
I don't get out much (no job, can't drive yet), so this is my pleasurable connection to the wider world.
(And beats the shit out of watching daytime television.)
So send me some email, people.
I need it.

While we're on epitaphs

I ran across this letter that I'd written after the death of my dear friend Li Greiner. I was privileged to be able to read it at a gathering of his friends in San Francisco. Having been a little closer to fulfilling it than I'd like recently, I thought it worth sharing:

I miss Li. The worst part is, I let a long time go by without seeing him, knowing in my heart that he’d surely be there later. And then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t.
We were supposed to have a grand time together as old men, Li and I. With me coming to see him in his palatial and convoluted digs, whether the apartment in San Francisco or the country estate in far-off Bisbee, where he’d be surrounded by passageways and rooms jammed with books [more books than in most bookstores I frequent], lined with shelves laden with arcane and hermetic bric-à-brac, and strewn with Oriental rugs. I would bring a bottle of ancient port or single-malt whisky, and, while Li lit up one of his pestiferous little cigars, we would pour out copious quantities into cut-glass containers. Then Li would regale me with long hours of intricate and learned discourse on any and all of a thousand topics, ranging from the proper use of firearms while boarding either a four-masted barkentine or the Number 44 bus to the use of labial fricatives in either Zulu or oral sex.
For that is what Li always was to me, the epitome of the learned sybarite. He surrounded himself with interesting and diverse things, books, and people. [I count myself honored to have been one of them.] He’d actually read every book he owned, and probably a thousand more along the way. He knew a great deal about a lot of things, and a lot about a great deal of things, and what he didn’t know about he was usually interested in. Yet he was never a bore [or a boor] about anything of interest to him, and was ever the perfect gentleman [both as a gentilhomme, a nobleman, and as a gentle man], in public and private. Though it would have been a mistake, and often was, to dismiss Li as some sort of fop. He had a lovely example of Samuel Colt’s handiwork [blued and .45 caliber] that he kept in his nightstand, and stood ready and capable of using it in the protection of himself and those he loved. His sartorial preferences, while occasionally outré by conventional standards, always had a delightful internal consistency. Li, in fact, showed me the rightness of dressing just like Wyatt Earp, down to the impeccably placed diamond stickpin, yet he would’ve been equally at home as an Edwardian dandy with top hat and cane, or an Elizabethan boulevardier with breeches and sword.
I envied him his abilities, his style, his knowledge, his savoir-faire. I always enjoyed his company, his speech, his view of the world. I was so very angry that he went without telling me he was going, without giving me a chance to tell him how much I loved him; but I soon had to forgive him, for what Li feared, I think, was our inability to show him the dignity he deserved, in life and in death.
I miss Li. I always will, on this side. As his friend, it is my hope to enjoy a good glass of port with him, someday.

Epitaph, until I think of a better one

Edward James Olmos in Blade Runner said of a android: “Too bad she won’t live. But, then, who does.”
Having been all too close to it myself of late, too bad indeed.
But we press on, regardless.

Bashing my head against the wall

This brain injury thing is turning out to be even less fun than I thought, and I'll be just as happy when it's over.
That's pretty funny, as there's little hope I'm going to wake up tomorrow (or any other day) and be "all better".
But I've realized that the only thing to do is press on, regardless.
I try and compensate as best I can, but there are definitely holes in the process.
How can you help? Glad you asked.
Email me (as often as you can stand to, anyway) at mseymour@proofmark.com
It helps to relieve the boredom of trying to navigate life with blinders on.
Or you can just leave comments here on the blog, of course.
Or both.
Thanks.

Lest anyone think...

...that I'm all better now, let me reassure (if that's the word) everyone that I'm still operating under some significant deficits.
We'll leave aside the sexual issues (the proprieties must be observed) and just talk about the obvious stuff:
I still see double, and crooked.
I still have serious balance issues. (I fall over far too readily in the turns.)
I still fall asleep far too easily and often.
I still have things which hurt (like my shoulders) that shouldn't.
I still weigh more than I should (though far less than when this all started).
All in all, I am better, far better, than when I was in the healthcare system.
But I ain't anything like what I was, or intend to be again.
I'll keep you posted as things, hopefully, improve.
Good thoughts can't hurt. Thanks.

He's back, and boy is he pissed...

I just finished the incredible saga documented by my love Christine (see the blog if you need details), and am overwhelmed by all the work she put into it, all the love and energy in the comments by my friends, and what a long strange trip it's been...
Now I just have to do some amazing things to justify all that love and attention (not even mentioning the million or so bucks the poor insurance company got to spend on me in the process).
Feel free to continue to comment on this blog, as you did on the illness blog.
I'm tempted to post my publisher's email here, so you can all bombard him with demands that he publish my new novel (Skeleton Cay; look for it at your local bookstore as soon as I can convince him to buy it), but I'm resisting the temptation.
Thank you, one and all, for your prayers and attention over the past few months.
We all (especially me) owe Christine for all her hard work (which she continues even today).
As for all the rest of my friends, thank you, thank you, thank you. It's inadequate, but it's the best I've got.
Stop by some time. Love to see you.

Back to 'normal', sort of

Slept late after our run up from Virginia yesterday.
Got up around 8.30, and just finished a real Chris breakfast (eggs with cheese, bacon, English muffins).
Life ain't so bad.
Both of us have this terrible sensation that we should be packing the car, however. That'll take awhile to pass, I suspect.
We're off later to inspect my storage space in Aston. Lord knows what kind of shape it's in now, after my Dad got through with it. But eventually I'll want to bring out my excess crap from my storage space in California, so we need to rearrange this one (maybe in a larger unit) for that eventuality.
As noted elsewhere, I've been reading the blog so lovingly crafted for me by Chris, with all the comments by my friends. Very moving. My thanks to all who contributed. I'm barely out of the 2006 posts, however, so if yours was this year I'll be awhile yet. My intention is to send thank-you notes to all who posted. (I know, how 20th century of me...)
There'll be more here as I get back into being home and doing things, so check back.
Comments welcomed here, too, of course.

Well, I'm back...

...he said.
Sam Gamgee's words from the end of Lord of the Rings never rang so true as my return this afternoon from six weeks plus in Florida.
I finished up Rehab at Jefferson on Friday the 15th. Early on Saturday the 16th, we were on the road and headed south. Chris, my beloved, did all the hard work of packing and driving. I was along to eat, sleep, and swim. All of which I did for more than six weeks.
The weather, this being summer in Florida, was hot and usually muggy, but there was almost always a breeze on the beach and air conditioning indoors.
All in all, some of the best days of my life.
I have to thank my lady Chris most of all, but my cousin Dickie loaned us his house for a month, and numerous friends along the way helped out. I even got to return the favor and visit my old friend Dave Kitterman in the hospital on the way home. (He's doing well, I'm happy to report.)
I haven't dared weigh myself, lest I confirm my fears about everything I ate on the trip, but I feel fine and am thankful we were able to make the trip.
My thanks to those we saw, and my apologies to those we weren't able to see this trip.
There will be more, I hope.

Still out there

We're still languishing in Florida, enjoying the sun (mostly) and eating well. We also do some serious movie watching, courtesy of Blockbuster, and reading (on the beach and at home) from the local library.
My brain is still making the long march back from angioma hell, and I worry sometimes that I won't make it all the way, but mostly my head seems to work the way it's supposed to.
Chris, of course, continues to be an incredible support to me, encouraging me even when things seems bleak, and I can't tell you (or her, apparently) how much I owe her. (Though years from now, if I'm lucky, she might believe me.)
Life continues to be interesting, though.
And beats the hell out of being dead.
I'm still awaiting a decision by the publisher about my novel (called "Skeleton Cay", soon to be a major motion picture coming to a screen near you; buy the book when you see it), so if you hear any distant screaming, that'll be me announcing he decided to buy the book.
Stay tuned.
Life will continue to be interesting.

Almost back

I graduated from Rehab today.
That makes tomorrow the famous "first day of the rest of my life".
Having nearly lost it, I intend to experience the remainder as intensely as possible.
I've sent off my new novel to the publisher; we'll see if he wants it. (All cross fingers here.)
Stay tuned; it will get interesting.

Mostly dead, just not completely dead

That's a quote from Princess Bride, but it was pretty applicable to me.
I had a cavernous angioma on 29 November, and it took me nearly six months to recover. (Actually, I haven't completely recovered but it, like so many things in life, is an on-going process.)
Trust me, you don't want one.
I didn't either, but it turns out that 1 in 200 people have an incipient one and don't know it.
Next time you have an MRI, ask them to look for one.
Not sure what you can do if they find one (most are inoperable), but better to know in advance.
Came as quite a surprise to me, trust me.
I'm better now, but it hasn't been fun.
For the ugly details, see my historical site at http://markwseymour.blogspot.com

Too good to pass up

This Brit will, unfortunately, likely have his balls handed to him by some jihadist, but for the moment he's funny as hell: