Imaginary Conversations and Random Thoughts

This post is an update of this post here. You go look now!

Back? Good. We have an update on our first highlighted charity, the Gulf Coast Community Foundation of Venice. Alan Nelson, who was good enough to organize STG, gives us the news:

"This from the Gulf Coast Community Foundation of Venice website: In an effort to direct additional funds to nonprofit organizations in the areas devastated by the hurricane, the Board established the Hurricane Charley Disaster Relief Fund with an initial gift of $25,000 and voted to match contributions to the Fund up to $200,000. The community met the match this weekend. First to note is that they increased the level of the match to $200,000 from $100,000, and indication of the volume of support. I'm sure STG-related contributions helped in meeting the goal (and I'm working to find out how much, if we can). Great work all, and thanks for working to strengthen the good!"

Click the STG Network button on the left there to learn more about Strengthen the Good.

Congratulations everyone. I’ll keep posting updates as we get them.

Alternate title: I hope the new leaf I’m turning over isn’t Poison Ivy.

Ok I wrote before about a little relevation I had after the office team building type activities at Die Konferenzmitte. You can read about it here.

I said something about ties. Well, ties are optional in the office. And they can be a pain. So I used to not bother with them. I mean I would not wear jeans and t-shirts; dressy type pants, sort of, and buttony type shirts. Somebody send me a fashion guide so I can name these things properly. But my shirts, while buttony, were not quite dressy type shirts that come folded with about twenty pins and stuffed in a plastic envelope sort of storage device, you know, the type of shirt you wear in your suit. Anyway, so now I’ve got nicer shirts, and ties and a little tie chain to hold it in place and I look all shiny and stuff like that. Oh and I have nice shiney shoes. I can kinda see how women get into shopping so much. That is so weak. I suck.

I hate shopping, but this was an I guess upper level type clothing selling place. And it was during the day. On a weekday. This is good for me. Guys hate shopping, so men’s department will be less crowded. Guys buy clothes like this for work. During the day they’re at work. So men’s department will be less crowded. When I got there, it wasn’t crowded. Have no fear that I would inflict my poor taste on my fellow citizens. I got a helper there who submitted appropriate selections of items from which I could safely choose. And so I chose away.

I also told myself I would be less anti-social. I can’t really pinpoint any examples for this part.

So after my first week back from satellite tasking, I can report positive results. I have had numerous comments on my attire, all positive. And even a couple of comments on my improved personality. Apparently I am now less serious and reserved. The tone of the comments indicated this was a good thing.

And now, something completely different:

I couldn’t help but be semi-known in our own office. But to the company HQ I was just another drone. After serving on the last committee Princess Wolfie volunteered me for, I’ve become known in HQ and in our other offices. My name was on the cover with the other committee members and this thing was sent to all sorts of people. When you’re an unknown drone, you aren’t called upon by bigwigs. And now Princess Wolfie has got me co-managing one of our client bases. I don’t want to be a go-to guy. Crap.

How dorky am I. Sometimes when I’m driving and need to increase my speed (on-ramps, in the mountains, passing) I turn off the ac and say “Hit the turbo boost KITT!” Sometimes it seems like I go a little faster. Then when I’ve reached speed, I’ll say something like “Restore power to life support” as I turn the ac back on. I haven’t decided yet if I am saying this to Worf or Laforge. Can I really be the only one that does this?

Ok I may have told you that Princess is an active type. You may know from your own experiences that offices can produce lots of committees to which the unwary may foolishly commit themselves. I did one a couple of months ago. Look back in the June 20’s in the archives if you’re feeling bored. I am not normally foolish or unwary, but Princess Wolfie talked me into it.

One of the things that’s so great about her is that she’s such a giving person. She’s so giving, she even gave me her place as co-manager of one of our client bases. Subtle Boss told PW she was overextended and should find someone to take her place. Naturally, she thought of me. She probably felt guilty because when she gave candy to everyone, she forgot me. First meeting Thursday. I hope they aren’t jerks. Because if they are, there is no end to the good-natured hell I will be giving PW over her getting me into this thing.

Update: Maybe there will be an end to the good natured hell. Princess Wolfie went to the shooting range this weekend. I’ve never been to a shooting range. She informed me you can rent guns there, but she just took hubby’s gun. He’s in the sort of profession that uses guns. She’s considering putting up some of the silhouette targets around the office as a motivator. That would be sweet.

Update II: Neither of us went to a within reasonable driving distance (for Trek fans) Trek convention. I had thought James Doohan might be there, but he was at a farewell convention somewhere in LA or Hollywood. His health is declining and it was his last convention. You may recall that I cleaned house for a visit from the Elders. More on that later. Or maybe not. It’s pretty skimpy.

Update III: I am terribly lazy. I don’t have a single link in this post, and I could have put several. I apologize. Not a peak effort.

So what’s up with Gmail? Seems I heard about it a few weeks or a month or two ago, and whatever it was I heard made me dismiss it as some goofy thing that no one would take seriously. But in the last couple of days, I’ve heard about it twice! From two different people! Who seem to have accounts to give away! What is up with that?

I’m always at the bottom of the food chain when it comes to hearing about things. And I have to go clean now. So could one of you little angels fill me in?

This may be a little delicate. If discussions of sex (with minimal perviness, I promise), make you squeamish, skip this post. If you came here from Wizbang, welcome and thanks.

Wizbang is a nice blog that has lots of posts. It’s definitely a check a few times a day at least blog. I wrote about them three posts down from here. They write about all sorts of good stuff, and they’ve had a run lately of Olympic and RNC babes. Hubba hubba! Wizbang can be found here. You go look now!

I just read one particular post there and wanted to comment, but I thought it might be too long so I’m doing it here. The topic? See my title. Better yet, see the original post by Jay Tea and assorted comments here. You go look now!

Back? Good. So we’re discussing why a gal with a ponytail coming out the back of her baseball cap is so sexy. Two theories so far in the comments. Horse theory notes the similarity of ponytail out of cap to readiness signals from female horses (and zebras and some other tailed mammals) who lift their tails when ready to be…well…mounted by the male. After seeing this for thousands of years in Africa, it became hardwired in our brains and this is why we find ponytail cap gals sexy.

Our other choice is the Tomboy Effect. In this theory, tomboys are considered especially sexy because they are more rough and tumble like guys, rather than extra frou-frou like many gals. This makes them more compatible with guys. Ponytail out of cap might be considered part of the tomboy uniform.

I’d like to give option three, the Vampire Effect. And Jay’s post crystallized it for me. I’ve always loved women’s necks. For me they are just super sexy. Necks, and nice calves. Yes, I know I’m weird. I would say sue me, but in this country, someone might take me up on it. Back to the necks. This is why I love short hairstyles on women. You can see the neck. Or if a woman has her hair done up. Graceful lines of the neck, cutting in under the chin, dropping delicately, soft smooth lines down to the shoulders. If her hair is up, a little wisp or two might escape, slightly obscuring the neck here or there, the tiny imperfection only enhancing the beauty of it all. Go watch a good vampire movie, and you’ll see that a woman’s neck is a very sexual area. Jay helped me realize that ponytail out of cap accomplishes all of these things. So for all you women out there wearing a baseball cap with the ponytail out the back, bless you.

Hey, that wasn’t pervy at all! I rock!

Actual Update: For some reason, this post is one of the more commonly searched items on this site. If you'd like to read a poem inspired by this post, you can go here.

I am not always a good housekeeper. It is a major flaw in me. I’m just too good at putting things off. I’m writing this at 6:25 am. I should vacuum, do the kitchen, bathroom, move some boxes cause I’m in the middle of reorganizing the garage, maybe prune back this big bush out front, and return a dvd due by noon that I’ve just started watching. I suck.

I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if I had taken the initiative and invited myself to the Hall of Elders for my birthday instead of letting them invite themselves down here. Maybe there will be something interesting to tell you about it later.

You may have seen me talk about ties and other fashion stuff recently. But I never did talk about laundry. Or ironing. Which is a pain. So I went ahead to my local clothes washing and ironing establishment to see what the deal is there. I had no clue what to expect, because I’ve never had someone else do laundry for me.

They can do it. I think the turnaround is fast enough that I won’t be left hanging with empty hangers. And the price was right. Or at least right enough. I should tell you at this point that I am not a millionaire. I don’t have my FU money yet. So how do I know when a price is right?

It’s a simple calculation. I can look at my pay stub and determine the value of one hour of my time, at least as far as the company is concerned. Then I just compare that baseline to the paid service in question. This is modified by the pleasure or displeasure involved in the task in question. And modified by my cheapskate nature. If I would spend two hours on a task, I compare the cost of the service provider to two hours of my pay. But maybe some concrete details would help.

Recently I made a cake, decorated it, and took it to share at an office potluck. I spent probably three hours total because it was an involved project. I could probably get a prettier cake that wouldn’t taste quite as good for twenty bucks or so. On straight dollars, I should buy the cake somewhere. Pleasure/displeasure? Well, it was important to me to make it myself. Ask me later if you need details about why. Cheapskate factor? Overruled by the pleasure factor.

And then there’s my laundry. Ok I could put it in the washer, then the dryer. I only measure the in and out since I can do other stuff while the washer and dryer are doing their thing. Maybe five minutes there. But add an hour for my substandard ironing skills. Hanging them up? Maybe that would bring the total to ninety minutes. On straight dollars, I should pay. Pleasure/displeasure? I hate doing laundry. I would pay more. Cheapskate factor? Same as pleasure/displeasure. So it looks like I’ll be taking my laundry in every week.

Or they’ll lose everything and I’ll never let anyone touch my laundry again.

Ok the Republican National Convention is practically upon us. You could catch bits and pieces here and there, on TV or in the papers. Or you could go for the gold and check out some cool bloggers who will be there.

But how can you possibly keep track of all these sites? Well Kevin Aylward is the sort of cool guy who works hard so you don’t have to. He normally does this at Wizbang, which you can find here. You go look now!

But especially for the convention and the bloggers who will be there, he has also set up a site that will be a central hub of RNC blogger posts, so you can find them all in one place. RNCBloggers can be found here. You go look now!

I wrote before about the Tattooed Texan. My uncharacteristic brevity can be found here. We bumped into each other in the Ecosystem. I don’t want to be the type that forgets my friends when I become a big star, so I’d like to take this chance to note a cool quiz she tipped me to.

The quiz determines what color you are, and your result is a fan service anime pic and a few key words describing your personality. Unfortunately, the quiz is for gals only. At great personal risk, an infiltration was made so that I could share this with readers of both sexes. See what a benevolent dictator I would be?

For gals, you can take the quiz and determine your color here. You go look now!

For guys, you can skip the quiz and just scroll through the results here. You go look now!

For a real life hottie, you can see the Tattooed Texan and her sexy new glasses here. You go look now!

Her post about the quiz, and the debate in the comments (hi Julie H!), can be found here. You go look now!

Update: By the way, I’m still waiting for the big star part to happen.

Update II: Oh yeah. Full disclosure demands that I reveal my color is orange.

I wrote briefly earlier about the Dakota Blog Alliance. You can read it here.

I wondered if they would read it, or find it. I still feel kind of cheesy about promoting myself by emailing to tell them about a total suck-up post. Anyway, at least one of them found it, and upped the ante by adding me to his blogroll. Which is nice. Especially since he only got a post link, not a blogroll link. This sort of individual initiative shall be highly rewarded when I become benevolent dictator. Until then, this member of the Dakota Blog Alliance will have to settle for being added to my blogroll.

This field promotion goes to Ryne McClaren, for service above and beyond the call of duty. Not only that, his link has gotten me some visits already. I don’t know if anyone gets visits from my links. Ryne McClaren: A Weblog can be found here. If you didn’t come here from there, you go look now!

Actual Update: Yeah. It would help if I actually put up the link after making such a big deal of it. It should be there now.

So I take a look at Ye Old Chronometer of Doom and didn’t quite like what I saw. See, you plug in your vitals, and it tells you when you’re going to die. Without getting too specific, let me just say that I am a year past the halfway point. So I guess it’s all downhill from here. That sucks.

The only thing I have going for me is that Mrs. Elder Prime made it to her 80’s before she died. Elder Prime was her second husband. Original Elder Prime went early, maybe 50’s or so. There’s some murky questions about my heritage, so Mrs. Elder Prime is the only old blood relative I can rely on for hope.

But look. It’s the 21st century. If I croak before at least 80 I’m going to be seriously ticked off. I gotta pick up some years somewhere. Maybe I’ll be like the Insta-incubus and maintain eternal youth by draining the souls of other, lesser bloggers. Sure, he says he’s just reaping the benefits of being an early nanotech adopter, but we know the truth. And by truth I mean we know it’s more fun to make up phony testaments to his unholy glory.

Anyway, you can find the hour of your own doom here. You go look now!

It probably wouldn’t surprise you to know I’ve played an RPG or two in my day. If you don’t know what an RPG is (not the military thing that shoots and goes BOOM), you may still recognize the term Dungeons and Dragons. If you’ve never heard of it, then you may have been victimized by irrational school board policies banning these sorts of items. This was never a topic I considered for this blog, but I did see something I had to pass on. Must have been an atonement or geas. You can see a video of people who are into it way more than I was by going here. You go look now!

And I found it thanks to this guy here. You go look now!

Keep checking him out at least for the next week; he’s a blogger at the RNC.

If you have Showtime on your cable service, you have the opportunity to watch the show Dead Like Me. The show is terrific. Briefly, a young woman dies, and her job in the afterlife is escorting souls when other people die. The show has lots of funny, and can make its serious points too. I think the episodes run around forty-five minutes. If you get the chance, watch this show.

Official info about the show can be found here. You go look now!

I haven’t had one of these in a while, so this will be a nice change of pace. You may have noticed these posts about Strengthen the Good. I heard about it and wanted to take part. You know, do my bit for the common good. It’s the least I could do. Literally. And I’m just the bastard to do literally the least I can do.

I’m also an ignorant apprentice, so I was having some problems getting the button set up with a link to Strengthen The Good. So I wrote to Alan over there. He wrote back quickly, and it was clear enough that even I could do it. And you can see the button over there on the left.

I have no idea how much mail anyone else gets, so when I don’t get an answer, there may be any number of reasons why. I do like to take note of those who do reply, because I’m grateful. Who am I to Alan at Strengthen the good? Just another schmuck. He did me a favor, and that’s why Alan gets the Good Citizen Award.

You can read about other illustrious GCA honorees here, here, and here. Are boys better than girls? I dunno, but Alyssa is outnumbered six to one on the list.

Update: Alyssa, our mutual friends will be visiting next month. I’ll have more in a week or so. Oh and for everyone else, there’s a bonus lost tale to go with it. Clippie makes an appearance and we both risk our lives in Methville.

…is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. So myself and the people you see below take some time on Wednesday to remind you that President Bush needs your help to get re-elected and keep our country from becoming France, Jr. And nobody wants that.

Those who would like to secure our pre-eminence in the world through volunteer action can find out how, here. You go look now!

Those who would like to secure our pre-eminence in the world through a donation can find out how, here. You go look now!

I just looked at my blogroll and noticed I still don’t have Daschle v. Thune up there. It is part of a group of blogs called Dakota Blog Alliance. I hear of them and sometimes follow links to them from Daschle v. Thune, but usually, because of time constraints, Daschle v. Thune is the only one that is my regular read. Jon Lauck is very generous with links to his fellow members of the Dakota Blog Alliance. I hope the others do the same, and as an alliance of bloggers, I would imagine they do. Let me give you the other members first. All of them deal with politics in South Dakota, and the primary focus seems to be the Daschle/Thune race and the disservice the Argus Leader is doing as the major paper not for a city, but for the whole state. I’m just giving you the taglines of the blogs, with a longer bit on Daschle v. Thune because it’s the one I read.

Inside South Dakota: We are an active group of life-long South Dakotans that are a not-for-profit organization established to promote and defend principled candidates who support the Reagan vision of limited government, free markets, lower taxes, family values, economic growth and a strong national defense.

You can find them here. You go look now!


Sibby Online: In search of the truth.

You can find Steve Sibson here. You go look now!


The Bird: Watching the Issues, Politics & People of the Great State of South Dakota

You can find John Michel here. You go look now!


Quentin Riggins Blog: No tagline.

You can find Quentin Riggins here. You go look now!


Ryne McClaren: A Weblog: I Have A Tendency To Wear My Mind On My Sleeve
You can find Ryne McClaren here. You go look now!


South Dakota Politics: Because all politics is local.

You can find Jason Van Beek here. You go look now!


Daschle v. Thune: Analyzing the Biggest Senate Race in the USA.

Jon Lauck is not kidding with that tagline, and neither is Jason Van Beek. I wrote to Lauck several weeks ago to compliment him on his work. They’re both right, and Lauck’s correctness is founded in Van Beek’s tagline. The Daschle/Thune race is a microcosm for what’s happening in national politics and big media (thus “all politics is local”); because it’s such a good example, and because of Daschle’s power in the Senate, it really is “the Biggest Senate Race in the USA.”

Let’s start with the Argus Leader and it’s boss, Dave Kranz. The Argus Leader is to South Dakota media what the NYT is to national media. Lots of smaller papers only have the resources to use articles from bigger papers. The Argus Leader under Dave Kranz (and if you read these blogs, you’ll see his cozy relationship with Daschle) is a stunning example of one sided candidate pushing. And because Kranz will not present open and honest criticisms of Daschle, the smaller South Dakota papers don’t have access to these types of stories. Well, except for the Dakota Blog Alliance. You see the same sort of thing in the local paper you read, and the SBVT issue is a prime example of news burying on a national scale.

Quite frankly, I don’t know why the smaller independent papers don’t run with the stories on these blogs. Mr. Lauck loads his posts with links. If he had written that last paragraph, you probably would have seen at least seven links. Clearly I am not as diligent as he is. My point with this is that I believe Mr. Lauck has proven credibility. If smaller SD papers are leery of blogs, my answer would be that Mr. Lauck has done all the footwork and it would take minimal effort and resources for an “official” journalist to confirm and write these stories. The Dakota Blog Alliance is doing the most, and best, political reporting in the whole state. Daschle also seems to be very good at refusing to address issues and whining about criticism (not negative attacks, but criticism) from opponents. Does the name John Kerry ring a bell?

You can find Jon Lauck here. You go look now!

One bright spot in official journalism in South Dakota is the Rapid City Journal, which has put out an invitation for weekly Lincoln-Douglas style debates from now to the election. Not just talking points and scripting, but more like position papers, plans and thoughts about the issues facing South Dakota and the nation. Serious, extended discussions, not quick questions and answers. You can find their proposal here. You go look now!

By the way, as of this writing, Thune has accepted the debate proposal; Daschle has not.

We are at a very critical time in the history of our nation and civilization. The people at the Dakota Blog Alliance are doing excellent work for all of us. You owe it to yourself and our nation to check them out.

I wrote about Strengthen the Good here. They highlight specific local charities and contact information for those inclined to help. The charity is reviewed and discussed, with emphasis given to ensuring the legitimacy and worthiness of the charity. In other words, fly-by-night or questionable charities are screened. Of course, you should feel free to do your own research on the highlighted charity.

You can read about the current charity, The Gulf Coast Community Foundation of Venice, which is helping Hurricane Charley relief efforts (and will match our donations up to $100,000!!!), on the Strengthen the Good page here. You go look now!

Ok my little angels, or maybe just angel, let’s be realistic, I need your help. I have CD’s with music on them. I purchase them at a local music selling store. I get them home. I want to make my own CD’s on the computer, picking songs from this or that CD.

I have these blank CD-RW’s, and they say 74 min/650 MB.

I’m using Windows Media Player.

I go through the whole process. WMP allows me to make a play list of songs I want on the CD-RW. I adjust the list, taking some out, to get me under the 74 minute total. Just to be safe, I even took it down to about 63 minutes. I did this twice, with two sets of songs, making two CD-RW’s.

Midway through the process, both times, WMP gave me a message saying the CD-RW was full. Both times, this message came about halfway through, leaving me with somewhere between 30-35 minutes on the CD-RW’s with the rest of the songs on both lists dropped. Before I hit the record button, WMP indicated to me that I was within the time limit of 74 minutes, both times.

My question: Why am I not getting the full minutes WMP says I should be getting? It seems like WMP is saying there is enough room, and then cutting me off at about halfway during the actual transfer. Are there settings I should be messing with?

You can find part two here.

I find that it’s time once again to examine my own evolution and see how things are going. Last time, I was an Adorable Little Rodent. I just squeaked in about 200 from the bottom of this group of approximately 800 other rodents. I’m still a rodent now, but I’m only about seventy from the bottom and regressing to a Flappy Bird. Continuing the tradition, I shall now take a look at the Adorable Little Rodents just above and below me.

My sharp rat teeth are gnawing on (one spot above me): Little Red Blog. Tagline: Rarely read thoughts of one American.

This blog seems to be almost exclusively political. Seems to lean right. Which is good; we need every one we can get. Bonus topic: a stray cat had kittens. He’s only been going since July, so if you drop by, make sure to give some kind words of encouragement. Mr. Hutchens has also done an excellent job of organizing and categorizing his blogroll. Good pacing. Prescription: Three times a week for one week, then as needed.

My plague carrying fleas have completely infested (one spot below me): Shoutin Across The Pacific. Tagline: Chiizu taberu koufuku shiteiru saru ga kangei-saremasen. (Hey what did you expect? They are across the Pacific after all. )

Charles Watson and Chuck Oliver both write on this blog. I sampled as I could, but with only eleven posts since they started on 7/23/04, there isn’t a lot of characteristic buildup yet. I can tell you that out of eleven posts, two hammered Michelle Malkin pretty hard. Posts mostly cover media and politics. I believe they are based in Japan, but I didn’t notice much about what life is like there. Sporadic pacing. Prescription: once a week for two weeks, then as needed.

Actual Update: My link for Little Red Blog up above there was punky. Hopefully fixed now. Thanks Marvin!

If you can guess, or rather, if you know the movie from that tiny bit of dialogue I could still quote accurately, and I feel bad that I can’t remember more, please believe me on that, then this post may really resonate with you. I think of that scene from time to time. And if you do know it, I tip my hat to you, for you are truly worthy.

This an imaginary conversation that I dread. I am extremely careful about how I act around Princess Wolfie because I don’t want something like this to happen.

Maybe in the future because of our joking around or whatever (and if you‘ve been reading the last several posts, you know I talked about my conflicted thoughts about whether or not it is flirting), and she only thinks of me as a friend, trust me, although I’ve written elsewhere that I’m no good at hints, so what do I know, but I think it would most likely be because someone would pick up on tiny slips that were my fault, it somehow gets around that I like her and Princess Wolfie asks me if I have a crush on her.

This is tricky territory. See, it’s not just a crush. She is my friend. I have very intense feelings for her. Maybe I’ve put her on a pedestal. That never crossed my mind til just now. Doesn’t that have a negative connotation? I need to check on that. She is just so great. And maybe I do love her. But she’s married, and as long as that’s true nothing is going to happen. Yes, even if she approached me in a manner so obvious that even my thick skull could be penetrated by the knowledge of it.

I mean a guy’s gotta have some scruples. And don’t I sit and say “You go, Jerry!” when Springer asks some gal why she didn’t tell her husband she didn’t love him, get a divorce, and then start dating and sleeping with her loverboy? So no, I wouldn’t have an affair with her. Full disclosure requires me to admit that if she did declare her intentions and get a divorce, I would date her in a second.

And I accept that she will not return these feelings, and I don’t care, she’s still pretty damn great. So I guess I love her as a friend. That must be it. Why couldn’t I just realize that from the beginning? That’s a whole other discussion. Remind me later.

Or am I rationalizing things again? Look she’s my friend. And she’s super great. It’s just that her greatness is much greater than other great people I know. Shit. So I do love her. But nothing’s gonna happen and that’s ok with me. And all of this goes through my mind when she asks me if I have a crush on her.

So what am I supposed to say? Can I really tell her the truth? Can I even tell you guys? It just sounds so stupid. You will laugh. It’s embarrassing. Screw it. Here we go. When I first met her, I had this vision. It stunned me. We’re close to the same age, thirtyish I guess, to be suitably non-specific. It’s germane, I promise. I just know you’re going to laugh. This sucks. Ok I have this vision. And in the vision, she’s very old. I mean like ninety-two or something. And it wasn’t just the way she looked. I could sort of see inside her. I could see her mind, not specific memories but an impression of her life experiences. I could see her soul, and what kind of person she had been all these years. And it was just impressed upon me that if I knew her from right now until she becomes the ninety-two year old woman of the vision, I will have had an amazing and wonderful life. But how in the hell do you tell someone that? And given the realities of the situation, how could I even consider telling her that?

So Princess Wolfie asks me if I have a crush on her and I tell her no that I only think of her as a friend.

What else could I do?

Life is weird.

You can catch up from day one here.

Well day four is the last day. We go til lunch, and then home again. What a bummer. This was a really fun time. What else can I say?

Maybe this would be the time for an overview of the experience. Ok but I need to go back a little further. I’ll try to be brief. I’ve always been very sensitive about the idea of bragging. I just have a strong aversion to coming off as if I think I’m some big deal. This is one of the reasons I don’t talk a lot. And why I talk about myself even less. So please forgive this paragraph. I never told anyone at work I got married. Announcing it would make me a show off and attention hog. So it was a few weeks maybe before someone noticed the ring. And a fuss was made, which I endured. I think I mentioned before that I figured a year was a good interval. This conference was first time I saw my coworkers since I took it off. No one said anything. But I’m not sure if they didn’t notice, or they did and didn’t want to bring it up. Eh. Same difference.

On the long drive back to the hermitage, I had a really strange feeling like this was the end of a certain chapter of my life. Almost like I was reborn out of the misery of that hangover. Maybe certain things should be left behind and I should open myself to a new way of living. I know this sounds weird and spacey, but it all sort of fits with the whole Call and Return cycle, and with the Invisible Author idea as well. I may have mentioned this before; try looking here. Or I could give you a brief recap.

Call and Return can be found in all sorts of lit and mythology. You go out from your normal life, have adventures, gain insight, and return to your old life as a new and elevated person. Wow that was quick. I didn’t think I could do it.

When you’re old, looking back over your life, it is possible to notice things that may not have seemed important at the time, but actually ended up being key turning points, or plot twists, in your life. You might notice that your life was like an intricately plotted novel. As far as you’re concerned, you life just happened to you. So who wrote the novel? The Invisible Author. Hmmm. Not quite as brief.

Who knows? It just seemed like for a moment I had a chance to peek behind the curtains and see the wizard in action. Exhibit A: I’m going to start wearing ties to work. Be more professional. I’m going to attend the social events I always avoided in the past. I shall be less anti-social. And other stuff too. We’ll see how it goes. Hopefully my experience will be better than Al’s in this episode of Married With Children.

On part two of day one, I mentioned I had a little breakthrough. I’ll post that in a few minutes.

You can catch up from the beginning here.

I told you you’d get your answer on day three, and here it is. I was hurting. Totally miserable. I ate part of a piece of dry toast for breakfast. My head hurt. Plus today had several workshops. I would be moving a lot. Of course, it didn’t help that my first session was being run by Big Cheese himself. Way to get on the boss’ good side, showing up to his presentation with a hangover. I pretty much just sat there. I managed to keep my eyes open pretty much the whole time. I willed my head not to explode, and it obeyed. Aside from the unexploded head, I didn’t get much out of this session.

Next session had co presenters. One of them asked me to chip in during the session, as the topic involved an area of my own expertise. Look I didn’t know if I would be up to it. Lucky for me, the other presenter went first and I had another half hour to recover. Amazingly enough, the recovery went well. By the time I had to talk, I only had the tiniest bit of a headache left. This is the sort of thing minor enough that I would normally wait to see if it got worse before actually taking something. I had nothing to take, and that was ok, because after feeling so crappy before, I was feeling super great by comparison.

I’ve never been to a shrink. But I was feeling so good, I started to wonder if I might be having a manic episode. But I don’t think I was so depressed before. Which made me wonder if I had just been depressed so long that I didn’t even recognize being in that state. I mean I have not felt so noticeably good in a very long time. I was practically giddy. I chipped in on the second half of the presentation, and when I left for the next session, I was practically flying.

My feet seemed to barely touch the ground. I was bouncy and full of energy. But I still had to go to the rest of the sessions. And they just flew by, baby! Now it’s all about the gambling at the local tribal type house of taking my money.

Someone, who shall remain nameless, if by nameless, you mean Mr. Texas, gave us some bum directions, and it took us about twice as long to get there as necessary. We finally made it and several of us played Black Jack. Let’s see. Mr. Truck sat at one end, then Miss Lola, then Princess Wolfie, then me, then Drinking Buddy.

I am sort of a conservative guy. I like traditions. And when it comes to gambling, my tradition is of losing. Far be it from me to break a tradition. I lost again. But I like to think of it as a service to my fellow players. You see, all of them won. The bastards should have been tipping me for pulling all the bad luck onto myself. I could have made two house payments with the money they won. But the nice thing about losing all the time is that you get used to it. But it’s kind of like haircuts. The conclusion is predestined, and it’s just a matter of the quality of the experience. It was a blast, and I only lost about a third of the money I had set aside for gambling. For me, that is winning.

Princess Wolfie had ridden in a separate car earlier, but she rode back with Drinking Buddy and I in the back seat of Mr. Truck’s truck. Lots of Star Trek references, a few from other movies and other TV shows. Princess Wolfie just totally rocks.

I didn’t want to risk alcohol tonight. Why push my luck? Even so, a good time was had by all.

Plus, when we got back, we discovered that Big Cheese and a number of other executives had gotten way more drunk than I did the night before. So I didn’t feel as guilty anymore.

You can start at the beginning here.

Everyone felt ok this morning. We did the meeting stuff and then had free time. Plus an open bar for an hour later in the evening. But what to do til then? Well if you have someone with Drinking Buddy’s super powers, you scout out a good bar for everyone to hang out at later. And that is what he and Princess Wolfie and myself did.

It took a while, but we found it. We played shuffleboard and had a couple of beers. Once we realized it was getting close to dinner we thought we should head back. But first we need directions so we can let other people know. Bartender lady gave us a cool paper with directions on it, and in the course of talking to her, we discover she was originally from the same town where our company offices are located. So she gave us a shot each on the house for that, plus our efforts to get a good crowd in later.

On the way back, Princess Wolfie was too hungry to wait, so we stopped in a little Mexican place. We got food and another two beers each. This is normally about my limit, but it was spread out over maybe three hours plus a meal. Plus I didn’t want to stop even if I knew better. Peer pressure and all.

We make it back and PW goes to her room for a nap and we should wake her later. DB and I go to the front desk to see if we could make some copies. After some sweet-talking, DB gets the copies made and we head to the open bar hour and pass them out. Another beer here for me. DB and I leave open bar looking for one or two particular people to give invites to. Little did we know, we were walking into a trap.

Maybe it’s because we were a little tipsy, I don’t know, but we see some more people we know and we stop to talk. They’re waiting to be part of some secret ceremony. Seems like it’s some sort of initiation. We’re talking about grown men and women, average age of all of these people, initiatees and initiators, well, saying 45+ would be me being kind. And they’re doing some goofy initiation ceremony. Well DB and I didn’t do a very good job of protesting, because we were quickly shuffled off by a couple of “hosts” to the side bedroom “holding pen” with the other “guests” and sat there anticipating our fate.

I’m not sure if it was me or DB who suggested we sneak out and do…well, something. We decided to hide on the stairs, which had a solid banister that gave us good cover. We could have gone up to the loft and peeked on the ceremony, but we agreed not to. We listened and it was all a bunch of gibberish, you know chanting and stuff. And lots of laughing. Then there is a huge laugh. Silly us, we didn’t realize that the laugh came at the end of the ceremony, the moment of ultimate humiliation. We just sit there, and we get busted when one of the hosts went for the next victim and we weren’t in the holding pen. So they stampede us back in, take another guest, and put a guard on the door. Another guest goes. DB is next. Then DB is gone and I’m last.

These people mostly work in another office. We rarely see them. Of twenty guests and hosts, maybe fifteen were from the other office. But I did work with some of them on that committee a couple months ago. I’m too tired to link. Look around June 20 in the archives. It’s late, I was at the office, then another meet and greet and it’s late and I need to be at the office at 6:00 tomorrow morning. I just don’t want to miss a day.

So anyway, some of these people from the other office do know me. It makes me wonder if they made me last for a reason. And if they did, what sort of reason might it be? The door opened. They had come for me. I was blindfolded and someone led me by the hand. But part of going through the ceremony is that I had to swear an oath not to talk about the ceremony. So I have to stop here.

After Drinking Buddy and I suitably compose ourselves, we call Princess Wolfie. She’s too tired and isn’t going to go. What a punk. Just kidding. But I mean really she’s asking to get cracked on by wimping out like this. And it’s a bummer. But it isn’t going to stop us.

We get there, and get some beers. Lots of people get there, and even Princess Wolfie showed up with some late arrivals. This place has karaoke and dancing. Ok. People first, or drinks? People.

Big Cheese, General Green, Miss Salsa, Little Cheese, Team Leader S, Team Leader B, Miss Lola, Miss Judy, Baroness, Miss World, Young D, Dancing Girl, Mr. Borg, Drinking Buddy, Princess Wolfie. There may have been a few others I can’t remember right now. There were only a couple of people outside our group. So that’s people.

Drinks, I didn’t need any. So I had a couple of beers, a couple of lemon drops, some drink with vodka in it, one or maybe two more beers. Please don’t do this to yourself, my little angels. I did not karaoke. Trust me, I don’t wish to harm my fellow humans. I am awful. William Hung laughs at me. I shit you not. People who deliberately try to sing badly don’t sing as badly as I do. So I did something I have done probably less than ten times in my whole life. I danced.

It was easy at first because we had been doing these kooky dances for team building exercises, so we were doing those. It was kooky. And then people started doing regular dancing, and I started doing my Nutty Professor impression, I mean, I started regular dancing too. Oh, the humiliation. Life sucks. Full disclosure compels me to admit that no one actually laughed at me. No one cracked on me, which my pals would do if I truly sucked. I mean wouldn’t you? Isn’t that what friends are for? And no one even said “Hey you suck!” So I might be exaggerating on the humiliation stuff.

I was chicken. I was half-petrified. But I guess I got through it safely. It was kind of like a benign mosh pit mostly, but every once in a while, a couple might break off and dance together for a song. And this happened with me. And Dancing Girl, who came up to me and started dancing. Look there are lots of ways of dancing to fast songs that don’t involve touching. And then there are ways of dancing that involve a whole lot of touching. Not just the hands, I mean like your bodies rubbing together. Now of course I’m standing there like a tree trunk (foreshadowing, anyone?), sort of swaying as if blown about by gusts of wind. My tree limby arms waving about . I’m saying I’m a shaker, but not a mover. I’m just trying to be clear that the sort of rubbing type body to body shimmy shimmy whatever was her body to my body, not my body to hers. Or, she started it. I just feel like it’s important to make that clear.

I also want to make clear that I am not criticizing Dancing Girl. She’s great. But Princess Wolfie was right over there playing pool, and I’m over here getting my trunk climbed, so to speak. Ok I’m sorry. I wanted to use the line. It wasn’t like that. It was the sort of dancing you see in popular current movies. And did I mention the rubbing? This is absolutely not a criticism of Dancing Girl, who is wonderful, but honestly I always figured the only way a woman would dance with me like this was if I paid fifty bucks first. See that’s a criticism of me. Don’t get confused.

Now look, I didn’t want to ignore her, so I did what I could to participate. I have no clue of the etiquette. I mean, am I not reciprocating enough? Or too much? So it went ok, but I think I erred on the side of caution and didn’t push the limits too much. And we could both tell I was enjoying it. And then we danced an actual slow dance, and I didn’t step on her feet, and it actually looked like I knew what I was doing, rather than just sort of scampering around or some such. Probably it was because she is a good dancer. Now at the end of this song, I got called away, or she got called away. And we never did find ourselves together again. But I had the feeling that she would have danced with me all night.

Of course I chickened out. I mean, what would these people think. You don’t just hook up in a bar filled with coworkers. Discretion is the better part of valor and all that. And who else but me would feel like he was cheating on Princess Wolfie even though he has no relationship with her? How screwed up am I? And if I’m in love with Princess Wolfie, what am I doing pondering a hook up with Dancing Girl? So am I a total douche or what?

It was a really fun night, and a good time was had by all. This whole trip has been great so far. Ok I was a lot more drunk tonight, but I think I was safe not giving anything away. I mean after what happened with Dancing Girl people might think I had a crush on her!

You might ask how great the next morning was, after all I had to drink and my answer…

will be in Day Three, tomorrow.

You can read part one here.

Maybe I should start with the alcohol. We purchased beer, whiskey, assorted snacks, stuff to make mudslides and fuzzy navels, and plenty of Gatorade for A.M. fluid replenishment.

Back at Mr. Texas’ suite, I made a pathetic attempt to teach the girls (Miss Judy, Miss Lola, Sista Girl, and Princess Wolfie) how to play Texas Hold’em. We got through a couple of hands before Mr. Texas stepped in to give us more expert tutelage. Drinks: Mr. Truck/beer; Mr. Texas/whiskey-coke; Sista Girl/mudslide; Fuzzy navels for the rest of us. More drinks while we play 21.

But why play regular card games when we could play a drinking game? This one was called King’s Cup, which thankfully was modified since we were all drinking different stuff. You know what these games are like, but if you want the details, as best as my alcohol fuzzed memories will allow, and you’re over twenty-one, ask me later. Suffice to say, we ran out of fuzzy navels and mudslides, and we ended up with a couple of shots of whiskey apiece on top of everything else.

Oh by the way, did I mention that Princess Wolfie is married? For commute reasons, she lives out of town. She goes one direction to work, and her hubby goes the opposite way. They live in the middle. But in the past, I didn’t notice a ring. Ok so it’s not like I checked every day; I just recall that in the past she didn’t wear one at some point. And we never heard much about hubby.

I just bring it up because conversation went to relationships at one point, and Princess Wolfie confirmed she was married. And one of the other gals noted the rock on her finger (Oh yeah. I say “gals” because it’s shorter and easier to type than “women” and it’s the natural counterpart to “guys” which I prefer over “men” for no particular reason. If you don’t accept that, and think “gals” is sexist or oppressive and I am wrong to use it, I have a more detailed explanation here). We’d all been hanging out several hours and I hadn’t noticed, but sure enough, it was a rock. Of course I had to ask why she hadn’t worn it before. One of the whatever you call them prongs or tongs or tines, those little spikes that hold the big rock to the ring itself was loose and needed to be repaired. So for a while, she hadn’t been wearing it. I don’t remember when I saw her without it, and for all I know it was fixed and she’s been wearing it for the last six months.

You regular readers know my condition when it comes to Princess Wolfie. The whole zing went the strings thing and all. You also know I’ve said at least twice that I know nothing could ever happen. I said it, but. Looking at that ring, and she was sitting right next to me, all I can say is that it was an especially vivid moment. Maybe even a little jarring. I said it, but maybe there was some deep part of me that didn’t think I meant it. Weird. But a little reality check is a good thing.

I think I have a pretty good poker face on the whole Princess Wolfie thing, but I never stopped to think about the risks of drinking with her. I did good this time. You know, you hang out with your friends, and you crack on them. It’s fun to make jokes and goof around. Now in some cases, this sort of joking around, in fact, I will assert that if you use the exact same word for word back and forth banter between Guy A and Girl A for a dialogue between Guy B and Girl B, Pair A might be obviously flirting and Pair B might be just good friends goofing on each other. As I said, I did good this time.

Someone in a neighboring room complained about us being too noisy. Then they called around 12:30 to complain again. So we stopped playing our drinking game and just chitter-chatted for a while longer before heading off to our rooms. Our separate rooms.

And a good time was had by all, except the neighbors.

Update: Day Two will be late tomorrow, things are busy here.

Update Two: I’m sorry this was so late. Right in the middle of it, I had a sort of breakthrough that allowed me to crystallize the Princess Wolfie thing. I had to write it. I’ll post it after I’m done with all four days.

Ok so I took a couple of notes while I was away, and it was looking pretty tricky. I wasn’t sure how to organize this, so I thought I might try one day at a time. And Day One might be a little jumbly.

It’s really nice at Die Konferenzmitte. Beautiful weather. There’s sort of a line at check-in, and I see Subtle Boss and Tough Boss, among others. Can you see my problem already? You’ve heard a tiny bit about Tough Boss and Subtle Boss. Look even when I’m in the office, I still practically hide in my office. Plus I started this blog when I was on satellite tasking. Now I’m at this training session, and I’m plunked down in the middle of a bunch of office people, many of whom I am spending more than just a “say hi when passing in the hall” sort of moment for the first time. Do you realize how many nicknames I need to come up with?

I manage to get my room ahead of some others, and I leave a message on Princess Wolfie’s phone to call me when she gets in. She’s rooming with Neighbor Lady, and I haven’t seen either of them for maybe a month or so. You can hear about that here and here. And an important recent take on Princess Wolfie is here. Drinking Buddy should be here any time.

Let me also warn you that as I look ahead, on Day Two I had an experience that maybe snapped me back to reality a little bit. And if you’ve been a regular reader, you may also get the feeling that I’m kind of a douche. I know I did when I started thinking about it. Or maybe I’m just a typical guy. But I should just let things unfold for you, and we can see how they look on the other side.

We’ve got a welcome dinner and social hour first, and that goes well. Nice to see familiar faces. Plus Princess Wolfie. And if you followed the links, you’ll understand when I say that she fulfilled everything I could hope for. Now at meetings like this, with everyone getting together at some distant place for team building and such, I’ve always felt that the social time is almost more important, and definitely more fun, than the actual training activities.

Here are a few people I saw at dinner. Pretty much brand new people to me: Mr. Texas, Mr. Truck, Sista Girl. Two people I know a tiny bit: Miss Lola and Miss Judy. And Princess Wolfie. Fast-forward to after dinner. Drinking Buddy wants to play cards and gamble with some of the other guys. So me and these people I just mentioned decide to hang out. And what does that mean? It means we pile into a couple of cars, find a local food dispensing place, and load up on alcohol. Mr. Texas invites us up to his room, which by some quirk of fate is more like a suite. It’s got a nice big table. We can play some popular card games and get some practice for real gambling at local gaming establishments. And what night would be complete without some kind of drinking game? Brief side note: nights like this are what got me flunked out of the first college I went to.

More later. I have some stuff to get ready at the main office now that satellite tasking is over. I’ll finish Day One this afternoon.

What’s that? What about Neighbor Lady? Ummm yeah. She didn’t show. Maybe I’ll be able to tell you why, later. So no Gang of Four. That number might never be firm. I may need a new name for our group.

And if I haven’t thanked you all for being here, let me do that now. Thank you. I’m trying to make sure I let people know how much I appreciate them.

There is a nice little project that is dedicated to seeking out worthy charities and every third Sunday raising awareness on blogs within the Strengthen the Good network. You can read about them here. You go look now!

You’ll find out more about the Strengthen the Good network and how to help Hurricane Charley relief efforts.

Reasons why someone who never really cared for the Olympics, hadn’t watched any of the Olympics, didn’t plan to watch any of the Olympics, but now might actually tune in are set forth in an excellent post by SarahK. You owe it to yourself and your country to read this. It can be found here. You go look now!

Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

Back again my little angels. There is a lot to type, it’ll take a while, I may break it into several parts and get into it bit by bit. But I am back.

I’ll be back late Wednesday night, my little angels, but here’s eight in a row, below. Don’t read them all now. Save some for Monday and Tuesday. Oh who am I kidding. You’ll read them all now. You’ll tell yourself you’ll check back late Wednesday or early Thursday. You’ll forget and never return. Eh. I’ll still be here.

Wow. Pretty lame for post 150.

“MY WAR - Fear And Loathing In Iraq” is a soldier’s blog from Iraq. Great stuff, real and uncensored, about what is really happening over there. Read about what he’s doing to keep us safe. If you don’t feel proud and grateful after reading it, seek medical attention immediately: your heart and brain may have stopped functioning.

If you haven’t been there yet, you can find it here. You go look now!

While I was flipping through the radio, I heard a song that planted a disturbing thought in my head. Everyone agrees that different people like different kinds of music, right? And I’m all for that. Whatever floats your boat. But does my life influence the music that I like? Or does the music influence my life?

This bothers me because as a kid, I never got to pick the station. And whenever school ended, the dj always had to play “Celebrate Good Times” by whoever sang that. Kool and the Gang? Not sure. “Hey kids you’re on vacation, and here’s a song to help you celebrate.” And then he’d play the song. I was never on the station that would play “School’s Out for Summer” by, ummm, Alice Cooper, maybe? Like the mashed potatoes in “Close Encounters,” this means something. I think. Analyze me now.

I was summoned to the Hall of Elders again. You can read about the last trip here.

Brief recap on the humans vs. pesky non-human mammals. Captured violators: 1. Neutralizations: 1. Humans are dominant! The will of the Elders shall not be denied!

The Elder Prime was visiting from the rest home for the weekend. He’ll forgive me if I tell this story. Older men need a certain exam from time to time. You know what I’m talking about. But just to make sure, check out this post here. You go look now!

Elder Prime: So do you use one finger or two?

Mrs. Doctor: Well I think two fingers are better.

Elder Prime: I want a second opinion.

We chitter-chattered about the usual stuff. Discussed new enhancements to the landscaping. About a house of prostitution that got busted a few blocks away. Seems to be a new trend for several girls to rent a nice house in a nice suburban neighborhood where no one would think to look for them. But the neighbors eventually got suspicious of all the cabs that kept coming to the house. We went to a chain restaurant and then got ice cream that was super delicious and was prepared in a way I had never seen before. Ask me later.

And a good time was had by all.

So Billy the drug kingpin has been arrested. Billy’s speedboat, house, and his classic car collection have all been seized because they were gains from illegal activity. Billy did something illegal, and Billy got punished.

But if Billy is an illegal alien, there seems to be no end of people arguing why he should be allowed to stay (be rewarded for his illegal activity). What are the reasons? Taxes? Nobody challenged me when I said they don’t pay taxes unless they want to, and that they aren’t required to pay taxes. They’ve built a life here and it would be cruel to take it away from them? Billy Kingpin built a life from his illegal activity, and it got taken away from him. From his second step across the border illegally, Billy Illegal has been enjoying the benefits of his illegal action. Is there anything else? How about the idea that they do work cheap, and if we get rid of them, we’ll have to pay more for our fruits, vegetables, housekeepers and landscapers? So because it costs more, we shouldn’t do it? Then why do these people make the opposite argument, that cost should not be a barrier, when it comes to things like environmental regulations?

Hey, I’m just asking! Fill me in on the real deal. Show me how I’m wrong. I’m open to convincing. And I also understand that it’s a lot easier to be legally harsh in theory, and a lot more difficult when your arguments affect a specific person you might know. All this stuff I’ve been saying, I think it’s right, while at the same time I acknowledge that it sounds very harsh and cruel. If there was a button I could push to make all of it (all illegal aliens returned to homelands, no one ever crosses border illegally again) happen instantly, could I stand up, tug down my tunic, point my finger dramatically, and reflect light off my bald head as I said “Make it so!”? I don’t know.

You can find part one here.

I find that it’s time once again to examine my own evolution and see how things are going. Last time, I was a Lowly insect, I was in the upper portion of that section, close to slimy mollusc. This time, I have moved up to Adorable Little Rodent. I just squeaked in about 200 from the bottom of this group of approximately 800 other rodents. Continuing the tradition, I shall now take a look at the Adorable Little Rodents just above and below me.

My sharp rat teeth are gnawing on (one spot above me): Random Pensees. Tagline: This is a collection of random thoughts about politics, culture, family, society and whatever either catches my interest or outrages me at that particular moment.

Ok I have to admit that when I first saw it, I thought it said Random Penises. Mr. Random Penseur appears to have done most of the posts I saw on a quick review, but the title is plural, so maybe other family members help out. It seems to be divided between family life posts and political posts. Plus at least one cool pic. More politics than me. More family than me. Fewer “funny” posts than me. Way less hallucinatory crap than me. Seems pretty good. I’ll be going back. Good pacing. Prescription: Three times a week for two weeks, then as needed.

My plague carrying fleas have completely infested (one spot below me): Diana Mertz Hseih. Tagline: Noodle Food.

But noodle food is just the theme for the blog (various blogroll categories are named for various types of pasta). Dave Barry is in the Ramen category. That means something, but I’m not sure what. The Blog, and the other sections are philosophy related. She has sections for Papers she had published, Lectures she has given, Reviews of assorted philosophy books, Internet posts made before she had a blog dating as far back as 1994!!! And the Undergrad section, which includes papers she wrote for various classes, mostly philosophy I guess. Prescription for other philosophers: three times a week for two weeks, then as needed. Prescription for non-philosophers, twice a week for one month, then as needed.

TP
PT
Cat food
Cat litter
Laundry soap
Generic store brand cap’n crunch
Generic store brand cocoa pebbles -- let me take a moment to say that of all the choco cereals that supposedly leave you with a bowl of chocolate milk, this is the first one I’ve found that lives up to the hype. The milk was almost too chocolatey.
Rope
Velveeta
Seasonings for chili and super nachos
Fabric softener
Hot dog buns
Frosting
Assorted cake sprinkles and decorative frosting materials
Italian sausage
Deli turkey
Ground beef
Taquitos
Lettuce
Bagel bites
Tuna
Milk
Chocolate Milk
Picants
Tomato sauce
Refried beans
Kidney beans
Juice
Soda

Last time, I threw in a short bit about my experience at the store, here. It wasn’t so good. This time, I went to another local food purchasing center and had much better service. Checkout girl had no helper girls. She did everything herself. She was fast, efficient, separated goods appropriately. Absolutely wonderful. And beautiful. So Natalia, wherever you are, bless you.

So you know I’m not picky about haircuts, but I am finicky about other things. I thought I might go through some of them.

Shirts. I prefer solids over picture patterns almost all the time. And I hate logos. Shirts with writing on them, no. I usually prefer shirts with collars. I don’t like those shirts that are stitched in a fashion that makes them look like they’re inside out.

Food. Lots here. Ok most vegetables I don’t like. Fresh veggies I like are artichokes and broccoli. Out of a can I like green beans and corn. I don’t like other veggies of this sort. I do like salad. My salad must have iceberg lettuce, mostly the white parts of the leaves; the more green, the less I like it. My salad may include those little strings of shaved carrot. I don’t like the purple stuff in there. Mushrooms are ok. Tomatoes are ok. Croutons and bacon bits are good. 1000 Island dressing is preferred. Ranch and Russian dressing are tolerable.

Hamburgers. Only tomato and lettuce are allowed on my hamburgers. I always ask, everywhere, for no pickles no onions. This includes lettuce. Many places use shredded lettuce. The shredded lettuce on my hamburger must not be visible poking out from the edges of the bun. My normal procedure is to open the burger, confirm the no pickle no onion (which can be tricky if they dice their onions finely and toss them in with the shredded lettuce), then rearrange the lettuce so none is sticking out the sides. I also inspect the tomato slices. Sometimes, if the slice comes from the top of the tomato, it is red around the edges and white in the middle. I throw those out. Then I can eat the burger. If I am at a place where I do my own ketchup and mustard, the ketchup goes in a spiral from the outer edge of the patty to the center. The mustard goes on in a “X” pattern, with an additional drop of mustard in each of the four “V’s” formed by the “X”.

I dislike corn on the cob and ribs because they mess up my hands, get caught in my teeth, and goop up my cool facial hair. Then it’s not so cool.

I like all pizza meats. Mushrooms are ok, and so is pineapple on a Hawaiian style pizza. Because I am so finicky, I have no vote in ordering pizza. Anything I don’t like, I just pick off. It’s easier for everybody else that way. See what a benevolent dictator I would be?

On tuna sandwiches I like BBQ potato chips. Regular potato chips, preferably ridged chips, may replace lettuce on any other cold sandwiches. Lunchmeat sandwiches need individually wrapped cheese singles and have mayo only. My tuna has mayo only, and probably more mayo than yours. I do not break up tuna with a fork. I must crumble it to tiny bits by hand. Tuna and PBJ go on white bread. Lunchmeat sandwiches go on those wide loaf oat nut type wheat bread.

That’s good enough for now, right?

The DJ played a Van Halen song today for the sake of those poor souls who missed the concert. I realized that I never did talk about what it means to do a Van Halen. I’ll just tell you the story.

This is maybe ten years ago or more. 90’s sometime. BB and I had been to a couple of concerts before, and we’d been friends for maybe ten years or so. Holy crap. I’ve known someone outside my family for 20 years. I’m getting old. So we decided what the hell. We really wanted to see Van Halen, so we decided to bite the bullet and get the best seats possible. We targeted our ticketmaster outlet and got there early enough to be first in line when the window opened at 10:00 AM Sunday. Tickets were priced at two levels, with the higher cost tickets about twice as much as the low cost tickets. Amazing as it sounds now, the best seats in the house were only $44.00. These were back in our poor days, nearing college graduation. It was quite an extravagance. We got tickets I think in section one, it was row B, and the seat numbers were like 13 and 14, or something like that.

When we got inside, for some reason the lights were down, even though we were like an hour early. Because we were in the floor seats, an usher felt the urge to escort us. And we sit down. Until a few minutes later, when another usher comes down with two people wanting to put them in our seats. I immediately start to think of all the ways this could end up with us getting screwed. When we were first seated, we had noticed that we were in the fourth row, but it was so dark, we couldn’t tell if the usher had put us in row B or not. For all we knew, the first two rows had some special designation, and row A was actually the third row. Well this second usher with the new people looked at our tickets and sent us to the correct row, row B, the second row.

Here’s the best part. The front edge of the stage was not a straight line. It sort of curved in a very shallow arc away from us. This meant that row A was cut short by the curve, and only had about ten seats on either side of the center aisle. Seat one was on the center aisle, and the seats counted up to ten toward the side of the stage. Our seats 13 and 14 were at the end of row B, just past the end of row A. Even though we were in row B, we still had front row seats. We stood at the security fence for the whole show. Well, not the whole show.

You see, the best thing about this concert was that Collective Soul, who I loved, was going to be the opening act. So I’ve got kick-ass seats for two great bands I really love. You may recall that Eddie van Halen had some hip or knee trouble, something like that. So they had to cancel and postpone the concert. You can guess what happened. Collective Soul wasn’t available for the make up date. What you might not guess, unless you indulge in sadistic fantasies, was that the new opening band was Slash’s Snake Pit. They were truly awful. And in all honesty, I was looking forward more to Collective Soul than to Van Halen, which made it even worse.

Here’s another mishap from the concert. BB and I walk fast, even for tall people. He doesn’t get quite as annoyed as I do at slow jerks who get in the way. Caught behind a particularly slow group, I leaned over and softly said, in my best Hulk smash voice, “Can’t…walk…at…human…speed! Must…go…slow…like…the…mighty…snail!” At least, I thought I said it softly. Little did I know the Bionic Woman’s nephew was in the group and heard me. He wasn’t amused. BB and I laughed about it for weeks afterward. Maybe BB get me in trouble. He was the one that tricked me into giving the finger to a cop. Ask me later.

Here was another dud moment. One of the guys, either Eddie or Sammy, gave this speech about how nice we were, how sorry they were that they had to postpone the show, how glad they were that we made it, that this was their last American show and they were leaving for Europe the next day for their tour there, and that to celebrate, they were going to ROCK ALL NIGHT!!!!!! Yeah, actually, I think it was the shortest headlining show I’ve ever seen. I left the concert very disappointed. Van Halen played fine while it lasted, but it was short, Collective Soul wasn’t there, and Slash’s Snake Pit sucked. You may ask if I worry about bad karma for cutting them down, but I figure they owe me. Four years later, they were the surprise special guest at an Aerosmith concert. So now my list of bands I’ve seen most often goes rolling Stones, Pearl Jam, Slash’s Snake Pit. They. Owe. Me.

Awwww. The poor sexy bee girls who tried to invade are burning up in their lab on my TV as I write this. Bee girls. So sexy. So tragic. So buzzy.

Oh yeah. Doing a Van Halen. This is gross. You might want to skip the rest. We get to the show. It’s a bit of a drive. We get inside. Bathroom break. We go in the bathroom, and of course it’s big. Maybe 12 stalls and about 16 urinals. Stalls on the left. Half in and half out of a stall, laying face down, sort of moaning and weakly kicking his legs and moving his arms, in a pool of his own vomit, super drunk, underage, probably late teens, is a guy, whisper/screaming in a hoarse voice “Whooo!! Yeah!!! Urrrp uhhh this is the best concert EVER!!!! VAN HALEN RULES!!!!!”

When you’re that drunk, my friends, you’ve done a Van Halen.

Of course, it’s not really called that. It’s some funky German sounding name. Our office is having a retreat there, training, that sort of stuff. Finally I’m getting off satellite tasking and back to the main office. I miss those people. And of course, I miss none more than Princess Wolfie. The Gang of Four will be together at the hotel. I mean in the sense that Drinking Buddy and I will be sharing a room, and Neighbor Lady and Princess Wolfie will be sharing a room. So none of us got crappy roommates, and we can hang out in each other’s room to party or whatever after the meetings each day. Of course, the company felt the need to inform us when we were signing up for rooms that coed rooming would not be allowed.

I seriously doubt that anyone who might be fooling around with someone at work would be stupid enough to try and sign up for a room together. Now that I think about it, if guys can’t room with girls because of hanky panky issues, I have a problem with the rule. Look at it this way. With this rule, heterosexuals are not allowed to room with someone they might want to have sex with, but gays and lesbians are allowed to room with people who they might want to have sex with. That hardly seems fair. I might just bring that point up at the inevitable sexual harassment review we’ll have to sit through. Should get a good laugh. Remind me when I get back.

I leave Sunday and get back Wednesday. Don’t worry, my little angels. I put together even more stuff for this trip than I did for the wedding trip.

If you’re a regular reader here (yeah, I wouldn’t admit it either), you know that I have a huge crush on Princess Wolfie. If you’re new, you can find a guide to her early appearances here. She’s been absent from the blog for a while because I just haven’t seen her. She’s been on another assignment out of office. Two things you should know if you didn’t follow the links. I love everything I know about her, and we will never get together. Look two years ago, if I had won the lottery, I would have quit my job. If I win the lottery now, I might keep the job just to be around her. Ok enough with the mushy.

The Gang of Four will have a kick-ass time and I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.

So I got a haircut today. Not cause I’m visiting the Hall of Elders later. But because this next week will be a busy one with the office retreat at Die Konferenzmitte. More about that later. Anyway, I got perhaps the best haircut I’ve ever had today.

I don’t judge haircuts so much on how they look. I pretty much get the same thing each time and it’s pretty simple. My interest in different styles of hair is pretty minimal. So for me the quality of a haircut is almost totally based on my experience in the shop. This lady today was perfect. The shop was perfect. I walked in and was greeted immediately, gave my phone number, and before I could pick through the zillions of womanly magazines for the one token copy of Newsweek, I was already being called for my turn. Wait time: excellent.

Then I get to the chair and get all nestled in. I give the instructions and she gets to work. In a previous life, this woman must have been a librarian, because she didn’t talk at all. It was exquisite. No effort was required of me. If I had been tired, she would have been a great barber to fall asleep to. Did I mention I close my eyes during a haircut? Remind me later.

She was very fast. She handled my head well. Not like that, ya pervs! I mean she didn’t yank my ears off or jab them with sharp implements. I didn’t get whiplash when she turned my head left or right, or when she moved it up and down. Then she finished and started talking again. But it was good, useful talk, “How does it look?” And then the mirror behind the head “Does the back look ok?” You know, was I satisfied by her service? I indicated I was, and we completed the payment transaction. I tipped her and left. You’re supposed to tip your barber, right? They’re performing a valuable service. And what’s the tip etiquette on that anyway? Is there some percentage you should go by, like at a restaurant? Or just a flat tip like you might give to the maid at your hotel? Let me know.

So how fast was it? I left my car during some dj intro to a Pink Floyd rock block. I was back in my car by the end of the third song. Best. Haircut. Ever.

In the last dispatch from the Gatherer, we learned about what Whoopi actually said at the fundraiser. He was supposed to let us know about the cover-up next. And he promised it was scary. If you want to catch up on what has been revealed about that story so far, you can find it here.

But we never heard back. Turns out the Gatherer got a vibe on another story from a few sources, and he got distracted. This is what happened:

The Gatherer was first intrigued by a tidbit from Carl from Timonium, MD. It can be found here. You go look now!

Then he noticed something odd at the end of a post by SarahK. At the end of a long piece about an imaginary Alias episode, the stay tuned for part two info was quickly changed. “Will SarahK and Jack sing ‘I Got You Babe” at karaoke?” wasn’t in the post originally. It replaced this line, “Will SarahK and Frank J sing ‘I Got You Babe’ at their wedding reception?” The coverup can be found here. You go look now!

SarahK’s gloriously feminine nature can be blamed for her blabbermouth. Elsewhere on her site she has talked about how much she “heart(s)” Frank J and that she ought to “set her sights” on him. You go look now!

Frank J’s masculine nature makes him better at keeping secrets. He has even thrown up some red herrings to distract everyone from his big announcement. You go look now!

The Gatherer had a theory. Now all he needed was a source. He cast his thoughts out, his “Source Sense” reaching into the ether. Nothing. He tried harder, the psychic tendrils moving beyond the boundaries of space, searching the Mirror, Mirror universe and other alternate realities. Still nothing. The Gatherer’s powers told him there was a source, somewhere.

The Gatherer set his jaw and redoubled his efforts. His face was red from the strain. His helmety hair started to muss. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as his glasses fogged up. Then a sudden thunderclap boom ripped the silence, and the Gatherer was seized by a wrenching feeling of nausea and vertigo as he fell into unconsciousness.

He was awakened by the melodious chimes of happy bells. The Gatherer opened his eyes to find himself on a grassy plain, bounded by a looming jungle to his right. He turned at a the sound of familiar hoots and grunts behind him.

Gatherer: Monkey Head! What are you, you know, doing here? And where is here anyway?

Monkey head: (Hoot, grunt, hoot) We’re in the future! I was banished here during a battle that hasn’t yet happened in your time. I can’t tell you about it without ruining space-time and destroying the universe.

Gatherer: That sounds pretty inconvenient.

Monkey Head: Stupid hippies. I can’t believe they got Time on their side (hoot).

Gatherer: Maybe I could take you back with me?

Monkey Head: Same problem (hoot, grunt). I can’t come back to your time until after the day I was sent here. You’ll know when that day comes, and you can come (grunt) get me then. By the way, congratulations on being able to travel (hoot) through time to find sources. You’ve changed a lot from the old days.

Gatherer: I could say the same; you’re able to, to hold actual conversations now. Used to be you only said two things aside from hoots and grunts, “When is the time to kill?!?” and “Now is the time to kill!!!”

Monkey Head: Now is the time to kill!!! Muh ha ha!! I love that. I’ve had some time to evolve a little more since I’ve been here. But what brings you here? What story am I sourcing for you?

Gatherer: I’ve got this theory, based on, you know, some sources here and there, that Frank J and SarahK might be about to announce their nuptials on August 16th 2004. Being the Gatherer, you know I am compelled to scoop all others.

Monkey Head: (hoot, hoot, HOOT!!!) Ahhh, 2004, what a great year. I can help you Gatherer. Remember when Frank J had that “business” trip, and all that talk about gambling? That was a cover. He’s such a good writer you probably couldn’t tell. He really went to her place. After some appropriate getting acquainted time, they realized they were perfect for each other. Now, whenever Frank J looks at SarahK, baby Jesus smiles. Oh, by the way, his sitcom is hilarious. It ended up being on the air longer than “I Love Lucy.” And you wouldn’t believe all the bastards that rip off his bits. Now is the time to kill (HOOT HOOT GRUNT HOOT!!!!)!!!!

Gatherer: Easy there, Monkey head. Maybe you should, uh, switch to decaf bananas.

They both could hear the melodious chimes of happy bells beginning again.

Gatherer: Uh oh! That sound means I’ve secured my, my source info and my powers are taking me back to my own time. Good bye Monkey Head!

Monkey Head: (Grunt, hoot) Remember me, Gatherer!

Gatherer: Don’t worry, Monkey Head; I’ll come back for you! Oh wait! Am I still on Fox News Channel…?

But he shimmered and disappeared, back to our time, before Monkey Head could answer.

Yeah. Sorry about the weak title.

Kobe Bryant is accused of rape. Lots of media. Lots of speculation. Bloody T-shirt. Bryant claims sex was consensual. Evidence in case starts to look like it’s not going to hold up. Looks like reasonable doubt may exist after all. So now we hear that the accuser might want to drop the criminal trial in favor of a lottery ticket to civil court. Bryant is rich, after all. He won’t miss a few million.

Question: without the criminal accusation, would the civil case have had any chance? I mean without the physical evidence collected by the cops, would she have anything to go on? Seems like all she could really prove is that he stayed at a place where she worked, and she took him some room service. By getting the cops involved, she gets lots of evidence collection, and Bryant admitted they had sex, with Bryant saying she was a willing participant. But if Bryant gets a call from his lawyer a month or two after his Colorado trip saying some woman wants to file a civil suit, Bryant could have denied the sex completely, and how would she prove it? Maybe she found a way: get the cops involved.

You say why would she drag herself through all this mud if it didn’t really happen? I say I could eat turd sandwiches for a year or two if I knew I could change my name after and live peacefully with all my millions from Kobe.

Quick detour: Have you noticed the trend in recent years of creative government currency procurement? Someone starts a wildfire, and the Govt sues the person to get the costs back. Someone needs rescuing from an ill advised mountain climbing trip, and the Govt charges for the helicopter ride to safety.

Question: How much have the DA and Police and local governments paid to run this case so far? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Has it reached a million dollars yet? If the accuser dumps them to go for a civil suit jackpot, I wouldn’t blame them for wanting their investment back. I mean, they might not be able to win a criminal trial, but their efforts will probably be the deciding factor if she wins a civil trial.

The fact that I’m willing to write this, and you were willing to read this far, tells me that these thoughts are not as crazy as they might seem at first.

Update: Ok I asked, and I did find one figure. “Prosecutors working the Bryant case are asking for about $300,000 for expenses for next year -- for now -- to cover such costs as paying strangulation experts.” This happened on Oct 4, 2003, and you can read it here. You go look now!

That’s enough for me for now. I just got tired of looking. If you find better or more up to date figures, please let me know. Keep in mind, I think I heard that Eagle County only has about four thousand residents. Ok one more. The $300,000 appears to be in addition to $105,000 requested on June 29, 2003, which you can read about here. You go look now!

And if you know of more current figures, please let me know.

Update 2: I guess I’m not the only one. CNN has a story on the nearly $20,000 she has already received from a victims compensation fund, money she would have to repay if it turns out she lied. Bryant’s lawyers note that repayment of this substantial sum might be a motivating factor for the accuser to continue her story. I found it here. You go look now!

Update 3: She’s going for it. You can read about the judge who will run the civil case here. You go look now!

Update 4: Someone else in another circumstance who should also reimburse the government can be read about here. You go look now!

Actual Update: It finally crystallized for me. I just don’t want to find out later that she used the resources of the government as her personal private investigation service. And I might as well just say that my thoughts in this post are opinions based on what I’ve heard here and there in the media. I am in no way involved in this case, and have no special or inside information from, nor access to, any of the parties involved in the case.

I’m sure most of you have seen these before, but now that it’s near the end of summer, the commercial of the old man dancing at six flags is getting a push again. It’s got the wacky music, the cool bus, the flailing arms, the kicking legs. I don’t know if it’s really an old man or just some young guy in makeup. I mean, it seems too fast for an old guy, but you can do a lot with modern editing, so who knows? Who cares? I just love watching that guy dance. I should learn this dance so I can actually do something on the rare occasions that require dancing. What’s that? You want to learn it too? So let it be written, so let it be done! You can find four of the dancing old man at Six Flags commercials here. You go dance now!

See what a benevolent dictator I would be? And as long as I’m asking, could one of the, how should I put this, people with extended life experience, how’s that, tell me what the goal is in putting aspirin in coke?

Actual Update: Ha ha ha! I just realized that Coke is a partner in some of the ads. I didn’t even realize that when I picked the quote for the title. How cool is that?

I wrote a little bit about how Kerry’s Christmas in Cambodia story affected my own personal life here.

You can read Donald Sensing's Better. Stronger. Faster. discussion of Kerry's recollections here. You go look now!

Update: Looks like many came here from there. Thanks for stopping by, and thanks especially to One Hand Clapping for linking over here.

Actual Update: And he picked the Dr. Seuss reference to quote. It just might be the first acknowledgment I’ve gotten about any of the cultural references I toss in here and there. How sweet is that?

Since I’m not in the military, about to be deployed, I’m not really eligible to enjoy the benefits of this wonderful organization here. You go look now!

But there’s still hope! FTheVote (I don’t have to spell out what the F stands for, do I?) has a similar mission. Rather than using feminine wiles to give the troops a warm send-off, FTheVote will use sex to encourage people to vote for anyone but Bush. The convertee signs a pledge saying he will vote for anyone but Bush. I say “he,” but the site makes clear that they are open to everyone, and that if you’re a guy who wants to be converted by another guy or a gal who wants to be converted by another gal, you are welcome too.

Let’s look at the possibilities: man converted by woman (MCW), woman converted by man (WCM), man converted by man (MCM), woman converted by woman (WCW). It’s nice to be inclusive and all, but the idea of the site is to trade a rare commodity (someone willing to have sex with you) for your commodity (agreeing to vote for anyone but Bush). The MCW exchange has value. Guys want lots of sex, and women are not as willing to fulfill those desires. In other words, a large portion of women that Billy wants to have sex with will not be interested in having sex with him. MCM doesn’t have this problem cause MCM deals with a bunch of guys who want to have lots of sex with other guys, who also want to have lots of sex with other guys. If both sides are willing, there is no rare commodity. WCM is another story. I don’t know if you know this, women, but the vast majority of you could, if you wanted, have lots more sex than you’re having now, because it very easy to find a guy who wants to have sex. For Billy, a sexually willing Sally is a rare commodity. For Sally, a sexually willing Billy is a dime a dozen; hell, he’s probably a nickel a dozen. So far, MCW is the only exchange of something of value. WCW? Well I don’t know. Anyone from that side of the aisle care to chime in? How easy is it for Sally to find a sexually willing Susie? Of course, since I’m a guy, none of this is really a barrier to me checking this thing out.

So I did. After all, I’m willing to be converted. Or at least to lie and say I’m willing. They think we’re liars anyway, and I’ve always hated letting people down. That’s the kind of nice guy I am. I’ll give it a shot, so to speak.

The page is extremely slow to load, but eventually, I was able to find thirteen Californians on the list. If you haven’t guessed from the title, the breakdown looks like this: willing Billys - 11, willing Sallys - 2.

Maybe I should visit my local recruiting office or something.

I’m a little late with this one. With all the problems in our lives, sometimes it’s nice to take some time to put everything in perspective, to turn our focus from inward to outward. If you have the luxury of living in or being within a convenient distance of good dark sky with minimal light pollution, you should make the effort between now and Sunday to go out and watch the Perseid Meteor showers. They are one of our better meteor showers, and if you’ve found a good dark area, you’re probably only hearing the sounds of nature.

Read about the Perseid Meteor shower, and get directions for good viewing, here. You go look now!

I suppose most people from time to time must think about their sex lives. Or their lack of one. I have pondered the latter case for a while now. It bothers me. I worry about it. And now, it makes me wish I had John Fantasyland Kerry syndrome. A Kerry mouthpiece named Johnson appeared on Fox and Friends. Check out the cheese filled tender vittles (emphasis mine):

JOHNSON: John Kerry has said on the record that he had a mistaken recollection earlier. He talked about a combat situation on Christmas Eve 1968 which at one point he said occurred in Cambodia. He has since corrected the record to say it was some place on a river near Cambodia and he is certain that at some point subsequent to that he was in Cambodia. My understanding is that he is not certain about that date.

KILMEADE: I think the term was he had a searing memory of spending Christmas - back in 1986 in the senate floor in Cambodia.

JOHNSON: I believe he has corrected the record to say it was some place near Cambodia he is not certain whether it was in Cambodia but he is certain there was some point subsequent to that that he was in Cambodia.

The full article can be found here. I found it thanks to the Top Banana in a link filled post here. You go look now!

Ok questions. First, I just told you where you can find the article I cited, and I named the show the article was talking about. Johnson says Kerry has said the recollection was mistaken, and that Kerry said this “on the record.” Well unless he means on Greta Van Susteren’s show, I would like to know to whom, exactly, Kerry personally said he was mistaken in his recollection, and where, exactly, this record can be found. This may sound nit-picky, but Kerry seems to have a chronic condition in which he doesn't mean what he said and he doesn't say what he meant. He just isn't faithful one hundred percent. So forgive me if I’m not willing to take at face value Johnson, and what he says about what he claims Kerry has said. Come on, folks. If a week from now Johnson says something like, “Well he didn’t actually say it himself, during a speech or on the record with a specific journalist such that one could go and review his exact words, but that was what he was thinking, which is the same thing, really,” would you be surprised? Or, like me, would you think that this sort of double-dealing, what the meaning of “is” is, sort of behavior, showing a lack of character, honesty and trustworthiness, is exactly what I’ve come to expect of Kerry, because that’s all I ever seem to hear from him. Johnson goes on to add “he has since corrected the record,” still pretty firm, along with the weaker (and weaselly) “I believe he has corrected the record.” But we might let that last one go as bad word choice; lots of people say “I believe” or “I think.” It might have been nice, since we’re talking about specifics, if Johnson had been a little more careful.

Second, appropriately, is the question of this second (or I guess it was actually the first, now, possibly) trip to Cambodia. Question: If Kerry thought he was in Cambodia on Christmas Eve 1968 (seared--seared in his memory, remember), but realizes now that it was a mistaken recollection, how can he so sure that this other trip really was in Cambodia (I haven’t yet seen a characterization of how well-cooked this memory is), and not just another mistaken recollection?

So what does all that have to do with my sex life? Well, I thought I didn’t have one, but now I realize that using John Fantasyland Kerry’s way of thinking, my sex life is great! After all, I’ve been near lots of women. Just think, all this time, and I never knew what a stud I was. I wonder if Wilt Chamberlain ever had a moment like this?

Update: “…at one point he said occurred in Cambodia.” He only said it one time?Correct me if I’m wrong, internet hive mind, but didn’t Kerry make the Christmas in Cambodia claim at least twice in published reports seven years apart? Or maybe Johnson just meant that the total number of times Kerry said this was actually not one, but near one instead.

Update II: Does anyone have a grammar book handy that would explain whether “seared--seared” or “certain” is the more emphatic intensifier?