Possumblog

Tonight?

Well, the family and I will be journeying to the World's Most Famous Olive Garden, site of the notorious Limey Cricket Writer Hatchet Job of 2002, and the Rebuttal Fisking by a Stalwart Fargoan. And, wouldn't you know--I even chimed in on things!

Ahhh--the good ol' days...

Anyway, since that time the Italian Villa down the street has gotten less passable, while the old O.G. still rocks along with its discreet hint of Tuscan decor and passable wine list, and the biggest draw, the bottomless, Jane-Mansfield's-bra-cup-sized salad bowl!

Mmmmm--salad!

In honor of Middle Girl's birthday, we're heading that way for a nice meal tonight, and then tomorrow will be devoted to the opening of presents and cake at the house, and various other things of a more fixing-and-doing nature. I really need to cut the grass, and there's some things to be taken to the thrift store, and some instructing on how to operate a digital camera. Broke down and decided to go ahead and get her a really good one, because she liked it best of all (it's red, you know), and she's a good kid who wouldn't mind even if she didn't get exactly what she wanted.

Sunday will have all sorts of meetings in addition to paying attention to the more important things, and no, I'm not talking football.

SO, much to do, and work on every hand, it seems. If you're of a mind to, come back Monday and see how things turned out. Even if you're not, come back anyway!

BUT WAIT--

--This just in!

Zawahri calls Bush a failure over war on terrorism

Oh, come on, dude, give it up. I hear Pelosi's married, quit trying to impress her.

From the "Sumthin's Gotta Give" File

Just noted this odd juxtaposition of headlines on the al.com newsfeed:

• Georgia lottery numbers 12:01 p.m. CT

• Russia may reconsider Georgia troop plan 11:50 a.m. CT

Okay, I've said it before, and it looks like I'll have to say it again--one of you Georgias out there is going to have to change your name. Either that, or you media folks are going to have to start using "Republic of Georgia" for the one over yonder, and "Home of the Braves" for the one on this side. But we just can't keep having the Rooskies think they can just march troops into Georgia and steal their peaches (and lottery tickets) like that.

No, silly!

Jury convicts Arab officer for soliciting sex from women

Not that kind of Arab!

"Arab" happens to be the name of the town, and is pronounced the way you think Southerners would stereotypically pronounce it-- Ā-răb.

The story I've heard is back when the town was big enough for a post office, the postmaster-to-be, Tuttle Thompson, put his son's first name down as a choice for the town name, and by some bureaucratic bit of spelling correction at the Postal Service office in Washington, it was changed from Arad to Arab.

BY POPULAR DEMAND!!

It has been brought to our attention that the Internetses smartest marsupial, Dr. Possum, is not in the office nearly enough to answer questions that plague YOU, the reading public.

Dr. Possum, busy as he is in submitting various papers to peer-reviewed medical journals and surfing the Web for naughty stories, is hurt and chagrined to hear that his services have not been fully utilized in this particular forum, and so he at once scurried to his luxuriously appointed 1989 Buick Park Avenue Landau Classic, turned on the left turn signal, and made his way here as swiftly as possible so that NO QUESTION CAN BE LEFT UNANSWERED!

And so, as a service to you, the vast, sweaty Possumblog audience, YET ANOTHER ROUND OF...

Ask Dr. Possum!

If you have any sort of question, either scientifical or personal, Dr. Possum is now standing by to offer assistance, a kind thought, or a swiftly administered dope-slap to your forehead. Please leave your questions below, and he will be glad to answer them forthrightly and expeditiously. Accurately might be more of a problem, however.

Anyway, feel free to hold forth now.

*Disclaimer: Dr. Possum does not actually submit his work to peer-reviewed medical journals, unless one considers salacious vendors of common vulgar literature such as True Psychic Wonders or The Naturist's Notebook as medical journals. Dr. Possum's answers can often be obtuse, or acute, and as such could also be scalene and/or equilateral. They cannot be categorized, however, as accurate, unless there is a wide latitude given to what constitutes "accuracy."

Speaking of guests...

'Idol' judges land in city for final auditions

Do me a favor--although we both know I'm home, if you see Paula, you DON'T know where I am. She's been calling for weeks and doesn't quite seem to understand that when I don't call back, I'm avoiding her. After that last time when she threw her empties all over the front yard, well, you know. I live in a nice neighborhood and people were beginning to talk.

Well, he didn't get to come over and listen to the game with me...

...although there was a 40-person delegation from the office of the Assistant to the Vice Undersecretary of the National Policy Directorate for Paper and Wood Pulp Derivatives Safety who came by and drank up all my sweet tea and left napkins everywhere. Thankfully, after they all left, FEMA sent in an advance triage team to assemble data for an initial finding in order that the funding for the environmental impact statement can be prioritized, with the intent of developing a napkin abatement strategy and implementation plan for FY2010. In addition, an emergency allocation of $40,000,000 was made to have the napkins that were left isolated and impounded in a specialized soiled paper containment vessel for later mitigation.

And Auburn won, so, you know, it's all good.

ANYWAY, President Bush's trip to town sounds like it went pretty well, although I have to say, you folks on the other side are just danged pitiful.

Now, I think Lucy Baxley's not an evil woman--she's okay for what she is, and if she does get elected in November, the world won't end. But it gives me absolutely no confidence when she sets up a cardboard photo of W out in the park, and complains that Bob Riley has plenty of money and doesn't need to be raising any more. Somehow, I think were the situation reversed (as it was a few years back in '96 with Billy the C came and visited Birmingham-Southern and was greeted by lots of friendly Democratic Party folks as well as those peculiar people who tend to be conservative who think that the office of President is bigger than the man who holds it and who, although they might have a personal animus for Mr. Clinton, nevertheless respected the office he held and were glad for him to be in Birmingham) that Ms. Baxley wouldn't be the least bit concerned about all that filthy lucre flowing into HER purse. The television news video I saw was not of a confident, feisty challenger, but of cranky shrill hack desperate not to be forgotten.

The thing to do--if the Democrats wanted to even fight the battle--is to bring in your own star players to help you raise cash. You've got Artur Davis, who out-Obamas Barack Obama--get him to come to town to help you stir people up. (Of course, since he's gone on record saying both Riley and Baxley are a few bricks shy of a load in this campaign, he might not want to be tainted by Lucy.)

Shoot, get Bill Clinton to come--it can't hurt you anymore than mewling and whining about people not giving you money, and he's hungry for any teevee camera he can find, and he craps 20 dollar bills. Coming into town to tweak the Pres would have been just fine by him.

Or, how about this--come up with some ideas. No, I mean something other than being opposed to everything Riley says. Actually come up and do something. Might as well stop trying to get everyone riled up about the tax plan that was voted down, because it was voted down. And the state's economic situation is good--quit the poormouthing and admit it's good and tell how you would make it better. Standing there fondling a cutout of President Bush doesn't do that.

But here's the deal--the Party, although she is the nominee--isn't really fighting for her. The House and Senate are controlled by Democrats, but putting Ms. Baxley--an outsider who is unloved by the likes of the Seth Hammetts and Lowell Barrons of the power-broker wing of the party--putting her in charge would threaten the insider's power. That's why they never returned the traditional power of lieutenant govenor to her when she was elected to that post, after they'd stripped it from the previous Republican who won the office.

Oh, they support her if asked, and I imagine none of those who actually hold the pursestrings would vote for Riley, but they haven't, and won't, go out of their way to give Ms. Baxley what she needs: organization, volunteer manpower, and money. She's on her own, but that could be a blessing. IF she'd quit complaining about it.

Anyway, politics is weird. Money does that to people.

How'd that happen?!

I mean, just yesterday there was this squawling wiggling red bundle of slimy goo, and today there's a fourteen year old young lady, mature far beyond even those fourteen years. Of all the kids, she's the most like me--for good and for the not so good. Big, athletic, loving of life, affectionate, smart, studious, quiet, sensitive--she sees so much, understands so much, but says so little at that time, waiting until she just has to say something. Her inate sense of decency and empathy is so far elevated above her peers--in far too many cases, it exceeds even those who're fully matured in years. A peacemaker, she can't stand it when the other kids start sniping at each other and being selfish. She's always eager to please mom and dad and teachers, and even when she acts more in keeping with her young teen age, she's never quite so bitter or angry or hateful as some children I know can be. She loves to laugh, and has quite a wicked little streak of mischievousness herself that she brings out every once in a while.

Such a girl. When I first held her, I never could have dreamed that she would have turned out to be such a blessing.

Such a girl, that little Rebecca.

KITTY!

Well, it's Friday, and I have a cat, and popular A-list bloggers who have cats on Fridays have decided that this is the day that they will put their pets on display for everyone to gawk at.

Why?

I'm not sure.

BUT IN ORDER TO BE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, we now take a moment or two to gaze upon the wonders of Lightning, The World's Most Expensive Free Kitten!

He was in rare form this morning--I blame the chill in the air and the fact that he's maturing into his full-growed tomcat persona--but no matter what, he was raring to go. First stop, the frog fountain to drink nasty water:

Silly cat. I have no idea why he's so enamored of drinking stagnant frog spouted water. Next he ran over to the other side of the patio, and posed in a most regal and catlike pose. I tried to take his picture, and he lunged at me, leading to a less than artistic result.

Silly cat. Next he ran off to see what all was in the shrubbery and yard tools. Here he inspects the hose reel, which apparently had the scent of some sort of injured prey, possibly a gazelle or springbok or mouse.

Then he bolted from there and ran around the side of the house, then the front and into the shrubbery. Silly cat. Finally caught him and while he was still snapped a shot of him as he schemed his next escape.

Silly cat.

Why yes!

I AM a moron! How kind of you to notice.

You know, I really think there's something wrong with me, but a couple of weeks ago as I was taking the kids to school one morning, while I was still TWO BLOCKS AWAY from the grimy little service station right there on Main Street, a particular car caught my eye. Yes, even from that far away, the spores of a Moron Project can still affect someone like me. But tucked there beside some other cars was a jaunty little Datsun roadster.

Got closer and saw that it looked pretty much complete. How it came to be there, I'm not sure, but the guy seems to have some interesting old cars parked out there every so often. It's the old sort of service station like used to be every service station--blackened walls, racks of tires, and someone who actually works on cars.

Anyway, for the past two weeks, I have had to do a visual check every morning to make sure it's still there. I slowed down one morning and was disappointed to see that the driver's door didn't quite close all the way shut. Why did I notice that in particular? Because I was making a mental list in my head of reasons why it would be a bad thing to have. I have no excess cash to dally with such things, but Steevil's recent Triumph Spitfire purchase has caused me to have pangs of desire for things small and unreliable. (No offense, Steve.) So I had to figure some way of making the urges quiet down.

A couple of mornings later, I noticed that the door was completely shut--apparently they'd had to move it and had actually shut the door firmly rather than barely latched, and so ONCE MORE, the moron juices in my brain kicked in again.

Why do I even care? Who knows--the lure of the weird, I suppose. I've always had a soft spot for the old Fairladies (and their sedan counterparts, the 510)--I even have a paper model of one that I keep on my bookshelf. They're just odd enough, without being totally bizarre.

Anyway, I have no intention of inquiring about it, but it sure does cause a powerful itch.

Advice?

Oh, I can give advice. Miss Jordana was detailing some of the advice she and the hubby have received over the years, and I chimed in with one bit that has always worked well for me: "Take the smallest cookie."

That was from an old Ann Landers column with advice from 3rd graders to mommies and daddies, and it works remarkably well. Of course, left unsaid is that the whole trick to taking the smallest cookie is going through the stack sometime before you and your beloved are together with the cookies, finding the biggest cookie, hiding it for later, then gallantly taking the smallest and offering the biggest REMAINING cookie to your dearly beloved.

Or so I've heard.

ANOTHER tip worth mentioning (although I thought better of mentioning it on someone else's site) is one of the most effective forms of communication between husband and wife. That is, to call her up at work during the day when you know she'll be busy and then start making all sorts of salacious suggestions. This works very well if you first identify yourself as the city foundation inspector, and then say you'd like to set up a time to inspect her foundation garments. Works even better when she's got people in her office and can't really talk back.

That ploy is particularly good at keeping her from saying she knows all about the previously mentioned cookie-hiding ruse.

Well, obviously...

...he had other things to do this morning and afternoon, so I guess it'll be kicking back on the sofa tonight. It looks like he's be pretty busy today, so I can understand why I didn't get a call-back about lunch. That, and he would have had to sit out front and mind the phones with me.

Now then--

I have to go serve my time to atone for my gratitude at the lack of wildlife sounds in the outer office--it's my turn to do telephone-sitting duty to allow our now solo administrative support person to go eat lunch.

I figure it's worth it, at least as long as everyone gets a turn.

Speaking of lucky numbers...

An exceedingly odd and disturbing report from the island of Rhodes, via Steevil, who has been known to use his top-secret NASA rocket science skills to steam quahogs.

In any event, every time I begin to think Alabama has a lock on peculiarity, stories like this come along and make me glad we aren't good enough for status symbols.

Remember this...

...the next time I have the "Fortune Cookie Wisdom of the Day" feature!

Back to normal.

Or what passes for it.

Made the run to the toothyanker yesterday for my crowns, and got to see the big C-5 Galaxy cargo plane landing at the airport with all the Presidential impedimenta for his visit here today. He said he might drop by and chat with me for a while, but you know how fluid these scheduling things can be. If he can't make it by during the day, Karl said he'll be able to come over tonight and watch the game with me. Thank goodness the house is clean. I mean, sure, there were some North Korean hit men hanging around yesterday, but I strangled them and left them at the curb for the recycle truck to get, so I think everything should be okay.

Anyway, got to the dentist and was escorted back to the chair by the same less-than-skilled assistant I had when the first tooth grinding took place. Uh-oh. Read a Reader's Digest while she hovered and I tried to read, and finally Doc Nancy came back to get going on me. Almost a repeat of the grinding operation, with the doctor getting quite peeved that her assistant was more of an unsistant. But at least it didn't take hours on end. I had both crowns cemented in place within thirty minutes, so it's hard to complain.

But. I would like it if there was some recognition that my jaw will open only so far. And that my skin is not infinitely elastic--especially that around my lips, when it gets dried out, and gets frictioned to a hand inside of a dry rubber glove, and pulls to the point where it feels like my lip is going to split open like someone popping a grape between their fingers.

At least it's done--TIME FOR CORN NUTS AND BEEF JERKY!!

Got back to work, and was inundated by more crap to do--the phone wouldn't quit ringing, and it was never anything good. Well, I can't say never. I did get one call from a contractor I had worked with before, and that was a nice call because she's a she, and I had enjoyed working with her back when I was at The Bad Place because she was a very smart she and ran a good business. Her daddy is the putative owner of the shop, but she really runs the place and does all the paperwork and job visits and stuff, and was always good to work with. And that's saying a lot for me to say about a contractor. Anyway, it's been at least twelve years since last spoke, and it was just like picking back up from a conversation five minutes ago. So that was a nice call. IN FACT--she just came to the counter for a sign-off on a permit a few minutes ago. She still looks just the same, and after a hearty handshake, I told her so. She said thanks, and with a wicked little grin she said, "You do too, and you've even still got hair!!" Hey, I'm as impressed as she was. And she was kind enough not to notice all the gray.

Anyway, all the rest of the phone calls were crap.

A bright spot?

Well, it only goes to prove that I'm really not a very nice person, but nonetheless, I'm still relieved that our outer lobby area is suddenly now free of a certain person's constant hoots, screeches, braying, ululating, coo-cooing, cackling, whooping, hollering, screaming, shouting, blabbering, yammering, blithering, and constant interruptions and rudeness to our citizen-clients.

A long nightmare is ended, and I can finally feel okay about leaving my door open again, and not have to cringe every time I have to tell someone to come to the counter and ask for me, or have to return a call from someone and have them ask who the incredibly rude person is who took their message.

Obviously, this being a bureaucracy, we can't be so forthright as simply to fire someone when they constantly--for years--display their instability and insubordinate nature, nor paddle around the office on their raft of mental flotsam, but it does seem that such a person CAN be transferred to another department. It's unfair to the people that will now have to deal with it all, but doggone it, at least it's not us. And at least this new billet will not have the need to interact with the public.

Anyway, just a tip--if YOU are the type of person to display all these characteristics, it's probably best that you not file a grievance against your supervisor when it was YOU who kept constantly interrupting HIM while he was with a taxpayer at the counter, and it was YOU who told him he needed to shut up and go to the conference room if he was going to keep on being so disruptive. Because doing that rarely causes things to work out quite like you think they should, and you find yourself shipped off to Siberia within 24 hours or so.

I shouldn't be like this, but that ol' schadenfreude sure does feel nice sometimes.

Now then, time to do other things. Maybe even stroll though the lobby without being stared at!

AS PROMISED!

Now then, having successfully dispensed with the special morning sports report, we return to our regularly scheduled diversions. Since last week's parlor game was so sparsely participated in, SOME might think that the whole enterprise should be dispensed with permanently as a sign of ineptitude and failure.

BUT IF THERE IS ONE THING that can be counted as success, it is that there IS INDEED an edition of the most funnest thing to do on a Thursday morning involving a computer and time to kill, The Axis of Weevil Thursday Three--Miserable Failure Edition!

Everyone loves a winner, right? Sure they do! But come on--failures are pretty doggone interesting, so let’s take a look at some of those today.

As usual, the object of the game is to answer the following three questions by either leaving a comment below, or a link to your very own highly successful blogging operation. Anyone may play, even people who are completely successful in all aspects of life. (As if anyone fitting that description would be here!)

SO, here we go:

1) What is one task that you have started innumerable times but just haven’t finished?

2) What one thing in your life would you consider your biggest mistake or failure?

3) What is your general attitude toward failure--do you see it as proof of your eternal inadequacy; simply part of life; something of a learning experience; or as something that shows you’re actually trying to do something?

Okay, there you go--if you can manage to go off and answer them without blowing something up or poking yourself with a sharp object, please do so now!

AS FOR MY ANSWERS…

1) There are so very many--finishing fixing the floor in the downstairs bathroom, writing a book, making money, finishing the final three volumes of Durant’s The Story of Civilization, reading the Bible through in a year. Making a list of things I haven’t finished doing…

2) I think it would be waiting so late in life to overcome my natural shyness--not wanting to be noticed or seen or heard can make life hard, and limits your choices of things to be or do. There’s plenty of small personal failings that continue to happen, but they don’t seem so bad as they might once have to me since I’m a bit more willing to speak my mind. Shyness can be endearing in a way, I suppose, but it’s still can be quite a cage. A second thing would be not trying harder in mathematics. If I had only tried just a bit harder, I might could have managed to find myself a much more remunerative occupation. Or not--one of those things you'll never know about, I suppose. I guess I could calculate the odds and such, but I'm at a loss to figure out how.

3) I fall more toward the latter nowadays--I figure the only people who never fail are the ones who aren’t doing anything in the first place. And I do see my mistakes as a learning experience, because my mother told me I should.

So, there you go.

What’s This!?

Why are all the studio lights glaring, and the music playing, and all these harried production people scurrying about on a Thursday!?

Because we’ve got a special Thursday Edition of Possumblog Sports Center, that’s why!

And why is that?

Because the still undefeated Auburn Tigers (4-0, 2-0 SEC) will be traveling into the heart of angry yardbird territory tonight to take on Steve Spurrier’s latest client, the University of South Carolina (3-1, 1-1 SEC), that’s why, and YOU need all the information you can get!

And why come to Possumblog Sports Center for that information?

It is a mystery.

BUT YOU’RE HERE NOW, so let’s sit back and take a look at what all is going to happen tonight. In order to do that, it might be good to look back a few days to this past Saturday, when I was once again proven incredibly wrong about the Plainsmen, in that I figured they would ride the Buffalo Bulls-not-Bills into the ground during the first quarter. BUT IT WAS NOT TO BE--buffalo being much larger and more recalcitrant than one might have been led to believe, they managed a very spirited offense and defense throughout the first half of the game. Auburn did come alive in the second half to make the Bulls into buffalosers to the tune of 38-7, but some debilities are beginning to show up with the men of Alabama Polytech.

Offensively, it was bland, but that can be attributed to a slow day passing with a crippled Brandon Cox at QB, and a benched Kenny Irons on the rushing side. It can also be attributed to something much more pernicious--let me say this, it’s one thing for LSU to be able to blitz and score a bunch of sacks, QUITE ANOTHER for Buffalo to be able to do pretty much the same thing. Were I Satan or his evil henchman Coach Spurrier, I would blitz every pass play.

Defensively, the Tigers are still strong and can’t be faulted--in fact, they might be a bit too good in one area. Quickness. They are incredible agile and quick to pursue, but they can be fooled into pursuing the wrong thing, quickly. Sometimes it can help to have a couple of options of what to do or where to go so you don’t get too far gone from the ball. Another thing is aggressive coverage downfield. Lots of bumping and shoving down there, which has its place, but it wouldn’t be nearly so necessary if the deep backs in coverage were better able to read receivers. Again, were I Super Steve, I’d be flinging lots of long passes, hoping for either miracle catches or the inevitable pass interference calls.

On the other hand, South Carolina has had a few problems of its own, and of a worser sort--barely beating Mississsiisispsiii State, getting beaten by Georgia, and then struggling to hang on to a 27-20 win over the mighty Wofford Terriers. They’re a better team than that, with better coaching. I have a feeling that will become evident when the first kickoff thumps into the air of Williams-Brice Stadium. The 45-6 victory over Florida Atlantic of the past week was notable since it is a better indicator of their potential, even if it was demonstrated on the likes of FlaAtl. Auburn, remember, could have nipped Buffalo in a similar manner--in theory.

“BUT!”, you say. Or ask. Or interject. Or exclaim. “But, what about the thing that is the surest indicator of success in a big-time college football program!?”

Well, let’s just say that there is one USC who knows how to highlight its cheerleading squad, and one that doesn’t. Sad, but no current pictures of any South Carolina games this year, and a very weak grasp of the whole idea of individual profiles.

And lest we forget--their mascot is a chicken named Cocky. Despite all the potential for causing all the blue-haired bluenoses to faint dead away by embracing all the double-entendre laden possibilities of such a mascot, in the end, it’s just a silly looking chicken. Look, if you’re gonna have a gamecock named Cocky, at least try to make him a little bit more hip--I would think someone more along the lines of Allan-a-Dale, as voiced by the dulcet-toned (and quite late) Roger Miller in Disney’s Robin Hood. Now THAT chicken was one cool cat! (Musicians, you know.)

I can’t be too hard on them, though, because the Tigers own website was only just recently updated with a few more pictures, and they continue to be marred by the inclusion of guys. But at least we have a cool mascot. And live eagles, which can swoop down and eat chickens like, well, like an eagle eating chickens. So I figure we win this contest.

AS FOR THE CONTEST ON THE GRIDIRON--This is going to be a hard one--SC will have home field advantage and the horned-and-leathery-winged spawn of Belial pacing the sidelines wearing headphones. I will throw my special sheep knuckle bones and now predict the final score to be…

AUBURN 24 -- SOUTH CAROLINA 17

Kickoff will be around 6:30ish Central, with television coverage by ESPN, meaning I won’t get to watch it. Which is fine, because My Name is Earl and The Office will both be on, and I can watch them while listening to the play-by-play on the radio.

BUT WAIT, THAT'S NOT ALL!!

Not a week can go by that we do not stop to honor Auburn's fine student athletes by awarding ONE lucky person the Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week!

This week we celebrate the braininess and sportliness of one Alicia Lenkiewicz, a 5ft-4in freshman on the gymnastics team. A native of the land of California, Alicia is starting out at Auburn in the math/science field and has already done well enough to be honored at the April Tiger Torch banquet for her classroom performance. In addition to her scholarship, she is also apparently a demon on the various equipage, as this article (with winsome photo) notes: "Lenkiewicz is one of the few female gymnasts that [sic] competes [sic] a Wyler kip, a men's high bar skill, on uneven bars. This E-level skill combined with a double front dismount makes for a unique and difficult routine that is sure to be one of the Tigers [sic] top uneven bar scores when the season begins in January 2006."

Mighty darned impressive! So we congratulate Leigh as the 5th PSAotW!

GREAT FLAMING WADS OF GRAVY!

It has been nothing but turmoil this morning, which accounts for the tremendous lack of content here. AND I HAVE TO LEAVE TO GO TO THE DENTIST! My new crowns are ready to be installed onto my tooth stumps, so the wrenching and gluing process that is to come should be such wonderful fun.

Anyway, this, such as it is, is it for the day. Tomorrow we get to have a Thursday Three, and I think it will be a good one, with the theme being Complete and Utter Failures. Tune in then, and we'll see what it's all about.

"But what of tomorrow!?" you cry.

"Whatever shall we do? Wherever shall we go?"

Uhh, well, I'm not sure why you're talking like that, first of all. Second, it's only my usual off-campus meeting I have to go to, so it's not like I'll NEVER come back. Unless I get crushed by a coal truck or something. In which case you might have a legitimate concern, since we all know that you just can't get high-quality bilgewater like this just anywhere.

IN ANY EVENT, should the unforeseen NOT happen, I should be back in tomorrow, only later than normal. In my absence, please be sure to check out the blogrolls, which are very similar to spring rolls, except not quite as greasy.

BUT BEFORE I GO FOR THE DAY--a question for you. What's a bigger waste of time--creating the world's largest rubber band ball, or devoting 1088 words to telling its story?

Possumblogger shrugs off suggestion he should care.

Clooney shrugs off talk of candidacy

I can't imagine...

...that they would be very comfortable riding them anyway--Snowmobiles banned to help Idaho caribou

One supposes...

...that "So, come here often?" and "Say, didn't I see you in Girls Gone Wild!?" have finally played out--U.S. needs 2 new icebreakers, study says

Some of my favorites back in the olden days were, "I don't usually smell like this," "I don't have a phone--could you just give me your address?", and "I know you don't know it, but I have an immunity to pepper spray."

Probably not a word to be said too casually when speaking of a mob boss...

NYC Gotti jury: We're deadlocked

Dave Gets Tech Support!

Just wait until we get us some tree stands with wi-fi.

Y'know what else?

It's probably not a good thing to go to bed and sometime during the night have a dream that you're filming a beer commercial with Kathy Griffin, and for no particular reason you decide (in this dream) to whisper in her ear a litany of earthy suggestions of a very carnal nature to her, and then the whole beer commercial production has to shut down when she gets offended that you weren't serious, but just sorta joking around, and further she decides that the reason you were just joking around was that she's ugly, which you never said, because although she's no Catherine Zeta Jones, she's still kinda funny in those Sierra Mist commercials and being kinda funny is attractive in its own right, although you will concede that she probably does talk too much and has that odd affect of always being "on," but still, up until you gave her the dirty talk, everyone was just laughing and having a good old time.

I blame the English peas.

You know...

...I complain about dumb ol' work, but I think most of you should have figured out that it's generally for comic effect. I'm glad I have a job, and although it's no barrel of laughs every single moment of the day, neither does it require being splattered with noxious chemicals or animal feces.

But even then, there are some days when it becomes obvious that I don't necessarily need this particular job. And of late, those days seem to come in closer intervals.

What she said.

Except maybe without the mild blasphemy. But only just maybe.

That Wacky Bill!

He needs a sitcom or something.

Yes, I'm talking about our immediate past President. The world is aflame with all of his blather from his interview with Chris Wallace. The thing that stood out most? Well, to me it was his incessant groping of Chris' knees. I mean, I realize Chris can be a girl's name and all, but still, all that fondling was a bit much.

As for my take on the political message, well, it took me back to the grand old days of the Republic when "parsing" was the big buzzword. As with the finger wag and various other things, it's important to ignore all the sleight of hand, and focus on what is being said in the tiny spaces between the lines of type.

From the latest AP article on the exchange, there is this one line:

[...] He [Clinton] told Wallace, "And you got that little smirk on your face and you think you're so clever, but I had responsibility for trying to protect this country. I tried and I failed to get bin Laden. I regret it, but I did try and I did everything I thought I responsibly could." [...]

Angry, angry, angry, tough, strong, smart, angry, active, feeling your pain RESPONSIBLY.

"I did everything I thought I responsibly could."

Nice performance, but once you know the trick, it's not magic anymore. "Responsibly" gives him a tremendous range of wiggle room. Who am I kidding--it's not wiggle room. It's run-around-swinging-your-arms-like-you're-in-the-middle-of-a-meadow room. And it's not even the "responsible" of things related to such usages as "responsible adult." It's the "responsible" of thought--I thought I could responsibly do. Oh, I might have been mistaken on my thoughts. Or my understanding of what "responsibly" means might differ from yours. It depends on what the definition of "responsibly" is, right? BUT I DID ALL I THOUGHT I COULD RESPONSIBLY DO! Sorta like my idea of how someone does not have sex with an intern might not agree with your definition.

Remember--keep your eyes on what he's not pointing to.

Here's the deal--once someone notices you bring out those equivocations, you leave yourself open to questions. Especially when you start acting like you're the victim of some sort of vast right-wing conspiracy. The Clinton Administration hasn't been treated gently, but it has largely escaped the heaviest responsibility for the attacks of 9/11, since it did happen after the Bush Administration had taken over. It didn't happen on their watch, although it is possible they could have done a better job. And people were pretty much willing to let it go at that--even let Sandy Burglar walk out with sensitive documents and destroy them to make the bad things go away--UNTIL this recent sudden spate of thin-skinned reactions. And reactions to what, exactly? Nothing new is really being said now that hasn't already been said--six years into this thing and suddenly you're starting to hear voices?

The timing seems questionable! Which obviously means that Clinton is toting Karl Rove's water, doing his best to make Democrats--even himself, the elder statesman and swinging party cat--look like unhinged losers who are tougher on Republicans than on terrorists.

It's magic!

So what ABOUT Sunday?

Up early, and I sounded like a soundtrack from one of those jungle movies--all sorts of clicks and snaps and grunts and hoots and pops and groans and snapping. Every joint in my body, including some that aren’t supposed to move, was in full angry mode. And I was still dead tired.

Up, shower, dress, get the kids up (sorta) and then start the final prep for lunch. Dragged table BACK into the kitchen, pulled out the leaves, put a plastic tablecloth on it, put out the napkins and plates and forks and chips and serving things, aligned the soft drink bottles and cups on the counter, made a quick rush around the bottom floor to make sure everything was put away and the laundry room door was closed, “Dad, could you iron this for me?”

::sigh::

Rebecca, with her black skirt in her hand, and a sad expression on her face. GOT OUT THE IRONING BOARD, the iron, told a passing child to be sure and get his hair combed and fend for himself for breakfast, ironed skirt, gave it to another passing child and told it to make sure the skirt got where it was supposed to go, put up the ironing board, unplugged the iron, looked outside in the garage to see where I’d put the ice chest.

::sigh::

In my grand garage cleaning-out of a couple months ago, I had put both of our big ice chests way up high on the wooden shelves so they would be out of the way. Which meant that in the middle of trying to get ready to go to church, I would now have to back the van out, get the stepladder, and attempt to not kill myself with falling folding chairs and plastic ice chests as I got down the one I needed, all while dressed in my Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. And while still on the sore-ish side. Managed to get the ice chest down and loaded up with no injury, which I think is a major sort of accomplishment.

And not only that, we managed to leave on time for once.

Church, got copies made of the directions to the house, filled up the ice chest, toted it and some unopened soft drinks from the kitchen back out to the van, went to class, stayed awake mostly, went to preaching, stayed awake mostly, then headed back to home to await the invasion. Ran upstairs to make sure the bedroom doors were bolted--my cleaning not having extended into these tangled swamps of personal dyshygeine--then back downstairs to help set out the food.

IN THE END--we were surprised to see that we only had a few of the kids from church show up--several were away visiting, and so it was a much smaller invasion than we’d expected. Which was nice in one way, because we had plenty of food for everyone, and the kids and parents who showed up were not the type I worry about running around and being all snoopish, but still I sorta wish we’d had at least a few more folks. Guess that’s what I get for being so antisocial. Then again, there IS a LOT of food left over for everyone’s lunchboxes, so, you know.

BUT, we get to do it all over again NEXT month. For some reason, we signed up for it two months in a row. The upside is that the house will be much easier to clean. The downside is that all the folks who’d gone off on visits will be back. I’m sure it will be interesting.

After a hearty lunch, the kids and parents sat for a short Bible study, and then they all left, and we repacked everything and put away the plates and napkins and forks and cups and tablecloths to await next month. I sat down on the couch with the Bucs-Panthers game on, and promptly dozed off. Thank goodness Rebecca was sitting beside me, and was constantly chattering, or I might could have actually gotten some rest.

Back up to church for a meeting that Reba had, I sat in a classroom with Boy and Cat and read the paper, then had evening worship (the 4th Sunday Question and Answer Session that I like so much, which didn’t mean I stayed awake well enough), then to home. THEN BACK TO CHURCH. Rebecca and Ashley had gone with the other teenagers at church to a area-wide youngster something or other over in Hoover, and they rode the church van, and didn’t get back until about 9. So I had to go get them. Not that I’m complaining--Oldest had wanted desperately to drive, but we’re still not quite as confident of her nighttime backroads driving skills as she seems to be.

All safe and sound finally at home and ready for be--HOMEWORK! GRRR! Rebecca seemed to have “forgotten” something that was due today, and plopped in our floor to finish it, and it required online work, and THEN in the middle of THAT, Oldest came in with something she wanted me to scan and send to one of her teachers. A typed sheet of paper. “Can’t you just carry it to him tomorrow at school?”

“He wanted me to e-mail it to him.”

“But-- Never mind.”

::sigh::

There’s no use trying to explain that at the late hour I was sending it, he wouldn’t get it until sometime AFTER she could have just handed him a piece of paper. And it’s not like I wanted to go to bed or anything, right? Right.

It was a long weekend. But now it's time for lunch! Pinwheel sandwiches and sausage rolls! Mmmm.

So, what was it again that I did this weekend?

Well, I can tell you this--I didn’t do any yardwork. The grass has slowed down enough that even with two week’s worth of growth, it looked okay. Actually, probably better than it would have if I’d actually cut it, since it looked thick and green, as opposed to brown with big swirly blade marks across it. SO, that was good.

INSIDE?

That was a different story. I could have used a lawnmower. That’s really not true--even though I wound up staying up until midnight in order to finish up the mopping chore, I kept thinking through most of the morning that it didn’t actually seem nearly as bad as I thought. Then I remembered sometime in there that the last major cleaning for Ashley’s birthday party was actually a much more involved ordeal.

First round, pick up all the loose toys in the den and give them to the kids, throw away bits of paper with cryptic game codes and various scores written on them, stack up craft materials, put away DVDs and videotapes. Second round was cleaning the same things off of the stairs. Third round was cleaning up the same things out of the dining room. Filthy little children.

The next steps were assisted by Catherine, who ran around the ground floor with the big lambswool duster, getting various cobwebs off of the ceilings and lamps and knocking all the dust down onto the furniture. At least she didn’t knock the lamps onto the furniture.

Next up, the loathsome vacuum cleaner. I hate the vacuum, but apparently this makes me the only person who is allowed to use it. Vacuum, vacuum, vacuum. Gosh, vacuuming sucks. Got all that mess done, and it got around lunchtime. Or past.

Ate a quick lunch, and calculated my timing--let’s see--2:30, then clean kitchen, then go to grocery store, then fix snacks for tomorrow, then mop. Plenty of time. (Said the moron.)

After lunch, started in cleaning the kitchen, while Catherine was given a dust cloth and Pledge and told to dust the wooden things. I think she did. Or not. Anyway, who cares about that--I had the kitchen to organize. First round, pick up all the loose toys on the table and give them to the kids, throw away bits of paper with cryptic game codes and various scores written on them, stack up craft materials, put away DVDs and videotapes. And old packages of cookies that got buried. One was a Keebler Soft Batch chocolate chip cookie pack, with only one eaten out of it.

Hmm.

I walked over to the garbage can with it, but out of curiosity decided to peek inside, expecting bugs or furry gray. You will be happy to know that through the marvels of modern chemistry, the Soft Batch cookies were still nice and pliable, and didn’t have even a hint of mold. And they still smelled like chocolate cookies. I wonder… What are they, two? Four months old? Could they still taste like… I mean, they LOOK fine. And they were hidden under a protective layer of schoolwork papers. Be good for blog fodder, wouldn’t it?

Nah.

Too old even for me.

Went on and kept at it and after a pretty good amount of time, the kitchen counters and oven and microwave and toaster and everything else was nice and shiny. Moved the table out to the den, and it was ready for the last round of things--fixing and mopping.

BUT FIRST--Rebecca needed a pair of shoes. Her little suede clogs had gotten ruined at the football game a couple of weeks ago when someone poured out a whole cup of Coke on her feet, so Reba, figuring that a day that should be devoted to cleaning up needed a break in the middle to go buy shoes, even though shoes can be bought anytime, while cleaning could ONLY be done on Saturday, decided to go take her to the shoe store. BUT. If she was at the shoe store, that meant I couldn’t go to Sam’s and get luncheon supplies, because although we do have a sixteen year old in the house, she is entirely incapable of sitting for even the shortest amount of time and keeping an eye on a nine- and a twelve-year old set of siblings. Meaning, I would either have to wait until Reba returned from the shoe store--which could take years (and it was already now 6 pee em), or take Catherine and Jonathan with me and Reba could go off to do whatever she needed to do.

Obviously, despite the peril, the kids came with me. They actually were pretty good, other than needing to be able to touch everything, and the constant competition to see who could be the one to provide the motive force for the buggy. Got a big pile of stuff, some of which was stuff we actually needed, and headed back to the house. And yes, despite the fact that you would think a warehouse store would have everything, there were still a couple of things that could only be purchased from a regular old grocery store, MEANING, that after we’d unloaded the trunk, I had anther trip to make.

::sigh::

Went to Target so I could check out the digital cameras for a certain girl’s upcoming birthday, and got light bulbs, and looked for a toilet seat. Did you know Target doesn’t have toilet seats anymore? I didn’t. The little pot in the powder room downstairs had metal screws and such, and the constant dousing with CLR ate them up into black rusty powder, so it needed a new one, lest a male guest be dismayed to find rusty black powder under the rim. Yeah, I know--like a guy would lift the seat--it’s really more because I figure there’d be someone who needed to know just how clean everything was.

BUT, it was not to be--so if anyone looked, I’m sorry it was icky looking. I’d suggest you not look anymore.

Home, right around 8:30 or so, moved the table back into the kitchen because I’d neglected to understand that fixing the food would require more flat surface than just the countertops. Got a chair, sat, helped do food (and thank goodness, Reba had only taken just a little while at the store, so she’s already gotten going on it). Decided to do fingery foods--some little pinwheel turkey and cream cheese sandwiches, some sausage rolls, taquitos, chips--anything that was small and easily eaten, AND something that was hard to take apart. Kids are beasts, and making anything like a BIG sandwich is an invitation for them to pull out something from the middle they sorta like, then toss the rest away. Small stuff allows them to get one, and if they don’t like it, it’s not as big of a waste. Obviously, I’m speaking of other kids--our kids have been forced to eat enough of things that they started tearing apart that they know once they’ve committed, that’s IT. It worked pretty well, only saw one of the sausage rolls that had the innards eaten away and the flaky croissant crust thrown away. Silly goobers.

ANYWAY, fixed the foods, got them stowed away in the fridge, sent Reba upstairs, and got out the mop and bucket. As I said, this whole operation was over by midnight.

In between all the fussbudgetry, Reba got the laundry done, Jonathan found his missing Scout patch, we managed to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner (of sorts), the house got more or less cleaned up (including the upstairs bathroom, which Rebecca cleaned), we made enough food to feed several armies, and I got to listen to the Auburn game.

And then, there was Sunday…

"Wow, the house sure looks different."

"Yes, kids--it's called 'being cleaned up'."

Although we know it's not REALLY clean--it's just that the big hunks of crud have been cleaned away, and the piles of junk stowed or stacked neatly enough to give a simulation of good order. But hey, that's good enough for me.

More in a bit, after I get my caffeine I.V. hooked up.

Quiet around here today.

Don't know why, other than everyone knows the season is now officially fall, so it's time to be reserved and contemplative. I think I'll go slip on my cardigan, then top it with my tweed jacket with suede elbow patches, and then smoke my pipe as I sit in my rocking chair by a hearth full of glowing embers.

Which means I'll have to make a stop by Wal-Mart on the way home to get a cardigan, a tweed jacket, a pipe, a rocking chair, and a hearth.

AS FOR THE WEEKEND, the invasion looms. Sunday we're having all the elementary kids and their parents over for lunch and a devotional after church. Our house is a wreck right now. Toys, papers, socks, videos, yaks--all of it, everywhere. The intent had been to start cleaning at the first of the month, so we wouldn't have so much to do tonight and tomorrow.

Of course, Procrastination being what it is, it took Initiative and Good Intentions both out in the back yard and beat them with a tree limb until they cried and ran back and hid under the bed.

Obviously--that's not true.

There isn't a place to hide under the bed, because it's full of toys, papers, socks, videos, and yaks.

Anyway, I dislike people coming to the house, because, well, they don't belong there. GO AWAY, YOU PEOPLE, YOU!

Remember, you can't spell "hospitable" without "hostile."

True, it has to be rearranged a bit, but they're all in there. The letters, that is, not people. I know I should be more sociable, but I like having one place where I can do whatever I want without having to worry about shocking anyone. I mean, when we have people over, there's simply no good way to run around the house in my tighty-whiteys. That's very important to me, you know. That, and not feeling like I'm expected to wash the entire house with a toothbrush.

Oh, well.

SO, that's the plan for the weekend--get ready for company, have company, recover from having company. Blech.

I hope YOU, on the other hand, have a fun and happy weekend--come back Monday and we'll compare notes!

Let's hope...

Crews try to corral California wildfires

...that they don't put them in a wooden corral, or else I have a feeling they'll manage to get right back out.

Well, he's just quite the Washington Chatty Cathy, no?

Bush 'taken aback' by Musharraf comment

By DEB RIECHMANN
The Associated Press

WASHINGTON (AP) — President Bush said Friday he was "taken aback" by a purported U.S. threat to bomb Pakistan back to the Stone Age if it did not cooperate in the fight against terrorism after the Sept. 11 attacks. [...]

In an interview to air Sunday on CBS-TV's "60 Minutes" program, Musharraf said that after the attacks, Richard Armitage, then deputy secretary of state, told Pakistan's intelligence director that the United States would bomb his country if it didn't help fight terrorists.

He said that Armitage had told him, "Be prepared to go back to the Stone Age."

Armitage has disputed the language attributed to him but did not deny the message was a strong one.

Asked about the report, Bush said, "The first I heard of this is when I read it in the newspaper. I guess I was taken aback by the harshness of the words." [...]

After the revelation that Armitage is the person who should be doing the dance of the marching frogs for saying something to reporters that they should have been able to figure out from Who's Who, it could be that Bush is merely allowing Armitage to twist in the wind on this one in order to make Armitage appear to be even more loose-lipped and twitchy.

I have a feeling that the idea was to send Musharraf a strong message to make him understand the necessity of not supporting bin Ladin and being an actual help, and the deputy sectretary of state took it upon himself to flesh out the details of just how strong of a warning to send. Nothing like a little swaggering cowboy imperialist chatter to make a point--especially since everyone probably figures that's what Bush would have said, since he's so lacking in grace and nuance. Truthiness, y'know?

Sure.

We've determined what you are, madame--

--now we're only negotiating the price.

Have you seen this blogger?

Well, you might think you have, but it appears our favorite long-snouted online journal keeper has decided to change his appearance and redebut himself over at A Little Aardvark Never Hurt Anyone.

His excuse for his long absence? Work.

I question the timing.

Computers = Evil

Well, I'm still having to deal with intermittent pop-ups due to stupid malware stuck on my work computer, but to make things worse, when I got home last night and tried to use the Internets, my browser (I.E. 4.x) window would open briefly, then shut right back down.

Stupid computer. Reba had been using it earlier, so I thought she might have clicked on something she shouldn't and messed things up. I found out later she hadn't--it had worked fine for her.

But at the time, I had no idea what it might have been. It's worked fine until now. I dumped all the cookies and cleared the temporary pages, did the disc cleanup routine, sprinkled the blood of an ocelot around the monitor, and fired up the browser again. ::blip::

Dang.

Finally after much fidgeting, I finally figured out that I could turn off the DSL line, open the browser, THEN turn on the DSL. This worked. Kinda. It would usually first go to a diagnostic screen from CenturyTel, because SOMETHING was still screwy, and after it had run through its fix routine, I could get to a few pages. Then the browser would shut itself again.

ARRRGGGHHHHHHH!!!

After trying with all my might to figure out the source of the instability, I gave up and decided it was a troupe of homunculi in the form of Ned Ludd.

And I still couldn't tell if it was something wrong with the DSL line, or something on my machine.

Stupid computer.

Well, one way to figure out if it's the browser--download something else and see if it works.

Went though my 'open browser, turn on DSL, diagnostic routine' deal and downloaded the newest version of Firefox. And hey--guess what? As soon as it had downloaded, the browser window shut itself down again. Grr.

Installed Firefox, fired it up--BING!! Works perfectly now, which tells me it was something wrong with the Internet Exploder, so I took away the IE icon and moved my new button there.

::shakes fist at Bill Gates::

Mmmmm--BUFFALO WINGS!!

Break out the hot sauce and bleu cheese, it's time once again for POSSUMBLOG SPORTS CENTER!

The battered and fried #2(or #3, or #9 in the BSC rankings)-ranked Tigers (2-0 SEC, 3-0 overall) return to Jordan-Hare stadium this week after just barely escaping last week's intense defensive struggle against a rowdy band of Ragin' Cajuns.

Although the game was marred by two umpiratorial shillybobs (which were later upheld by an SEC review committee), it was still a tremendously hard-hitting game by two equally matched schools.

The one beef I have with the AU offensive line was that it allowed way too many sacks this past week, and Brandon Cox very nearly wound up off to the showers with a hurt leg from one too many blitzes.

Something to work on.

And poor ol' John Vaughn--still fighting that 'Other Tiger' mojo, cranked another one into the upright. But, as one of his teammates told him, he'll never miss another one against LSU ever again. He should be fine for the rest of the season. No complaints about that mauling defense, or the punting game, though--still doing yeoman's duty at shutting down all comers.

A good, hard-fought game, even if it did make my predictatory skills look embarrassingly lame in retrospect.

IS IT TIME TO REST THIS WEEK?

NO WAY!--What with the unprecedented move of having to play against the second place team in the AFC East Division, the Buffalo Bills! I can't remember Auburn playing an NFL team before, but just like the LSU game, it should be a whim-doozy of a match up. Now, Buffalo might have lost 3 of 4 of their preseason games, and be 1-1 in regular season play, but you have to remember the loss came to a very strong New England Patriots team who are sitting with a 2 in the power rankings right now.

And to make it even BETTER--the NFL knows how to do cheerleading. The Buffalo Jills (how cute!) have a very strong lineup and their squad page is full of all kinds of photos and statistics and white go-go boots!

So quite an exciting time--er, hold on a minute, let me get that phone.

Possumblog Sports Center!

Mmhm.

Really, now.

It's not?

There's two?

Well, that can't be right. Are you sure?!

Hmm.

Okay, well you're sure it IS in New York, right?

And it's not some high school team, either, right?

Sheesh.

Uhhhh, sorry about that, folks. And all that stuff about the Bills and Jills and stuff? Never mind.

Seems the Tigers will be taking on the State University of New York at Buffalo.

Well, it IS the first time we've played them, although we have played and defeated five other teams from the powerhousey Mid-American Conference over the years.

Coach Tuberville doesn't seem to discount their abilities, however, and vows that QB Cox will play. Which is good--every opponent is a serious one, and nothing feels better to a team like Buffalo than defeating someone you're not supposed to beat, such as, say, Auburn. As Coach noted,

[...] we are not a 'rolling ball of butcher knives' right now on offense. So we have to get better at running, throwing and blocking; all of it. We are not going to be able to do what we would like to do if we don't get better on offense. You don't get better without practicing or playing. [...]

Rollin' ball of butcher knives, indeed.

So, despite the lure of going easy, don't look for the Buffs to be shown any mercy on Saturday.

At least they do have cheerleaders.

Nonetheless, my PREDICTION OF FINAL OUTCOME looks like...

AUBURN 54 -- BUFFALO 7

Kickoff will be at 1:30 CT, with coverage via the Internets and on your Auburn Radio Network affiliates. AND A WORD ABOUT THAT--I sure would be tickled if WYSF here in Birmingham would do away with their delay on games that are televised. Especially after last week's stupidfest from the See B.S. broadcasters, I would dearly have wanted to mute the idiot box and just listen on the radio. But a five or ten second delay is too disconcerting to figure out--the play's over while the announcers are still announciating. So, please--do it for people like me.

You know, morons.

BUT WAIT, THAT'S NOT ALL!

It's time to name our 4th Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week!

But before we get to that, I feel I must address some concerns that have been voiced. It has been pointed out that every PSAotW has been a very tall, very attractive, very female, girl.

I do not have any idea why anyone would make a statement like this, and frankly I find it hurtful and demeaning that anyone would think me so shallow. But enough about me, on to our honoree of the week.

This week the award goes to the Tiger's striking (so to speak) Jorja Bell, a 6'-0" brunette who will be playing her first season (after sitting out 2005) at catcher on the very strong women's softball team.

Jorja, whose name I believe is pronounced 'Georgia Belle,' is from the Deep Deep South, namely Auckland, New Zealand. In that odd corner of the globe, she attended Epsom Girls Grammar School, and played on the Aukland U-17 and U-19 regional softball teams that won championships in 2002 and 2003.

Jorja is a junior this year and was named to the 2006 SEC Softball Good Works Team, and has been named to the SEC Honor Roll.

I never knew softball was so big in Kiwiland, and Jorja is something of a hometown celebrity due to her being whisked off to the wilds of Alabama to play her college ball. The Zealanders have a nice website for players off to other parts of the world, and Jorja has kept them filled in on the exotic world of Lee County. (Although she does need to do an update.)Nice photos, too--I apologize (or "apologise" for all you people who spell in English) but I simply had to steal one of them.

THIS is what a ball player should look like, folks:

Of course, it helps if they also look like this without the dirt:

SO, there you go!

KITTY!

Well, this is surely going to be a first for ANYone who closely follows the goings on about Catblogging Fridays. I'm almost certain it will boost me into that tiny cadre of luminaries of the blogging world.

IN a provocative and boldly transgressive move intended to break the cruel specieist feline hegemony, I give you...

PUPPIES!!

As promised, my sister sent along a photo of the new puppy she's going to be bringing home in a few weeks.

This is him, on the right, with his brother on the left:

Just to amp up the cuteness factor even more, here's a photo of his sisters:

According to my sister, the thumbnail photos above are much closer to the actual size of the pups. With TWO pictures of fuzzy roly-poly puppies, Catblogging Friday supremacy will be ALL MINE!!

But lest there be any doubt, the final weapon--a picture of their MAMA!!

Yes, I was weirded out by the idea that the puppies--stubby, fat, short-furred, lop-eared--could ever turn out to look like the wispy, spindly mother dog.

Eh, go figure.

ANYWAY, The World's Most Expensive Kitten returns next week.

Okay, now THAT'S just cool!

I tell you, it helps to have a rocket science in the house. Steevil sends along a link to a photo of the Shuttle and the International Space Station silhouetted against the Sun.

Tremendously nifty!

Also, leave it to the folks at NASA to provide some excellent scientific commentary to accompany the photo:

Though it's 93 million miles away, the Sun still hurts your eyes when you look at it. [...]

Fascinating, Captain.

From the "People are Peculiar" File

Was just now at an eatery, and noticed a round older woman sitting at a table, reading a book. Just a regular-sized hardbound novel of a book. And she had it propped in a little wire caddy. Within a mere finger-breadth, her hands were clasped on the table between the caddy-bound book and herself.

Now lack of imagination is probably why I've never done anything great in my life, but it sure did seem like an awful lot of rigamarole just to read a book--I mean, you have to carry around the little wire caddy with you, and you have to set it up on the table, and you have to pick the book up every time it's time to turn the page, and you've got your hands neatly folded right there in FRONT of you to do all this setting up and turning and fidgeting--why not just skip the caddy and HOLD the book?

I didn't even know that had rocket motors!

U.S., Pakistani first ladies launch site

And speaking of things ecclesiastical...

...are you even supposed to say ass-plant and church parking lot in the same sentence!?

(Best wishes for less lameosity, BAW!)

Going back to our earlier post on edumacation...

...just had a co-worker come by with a letter, and a very odd question. "Look at this. [shows me signature line on letter] Is this some sort of weird way to spell 'Lewis,' or do you think this is supposed to be 'Louise'?"

I looked at the name typed on the paper.

Louis

"Uhhh, well, no--it can be pronouned Lewis like 'St. Louis,' or Lewie, like 'Louis Armstrong.' But it's not 'Louise'."

Who's never seen the name Louis before!?

::sigh::

Well, I know He's our Heavenly Father, but still--

Casey, Santorum talk about faith in Pa.

--it seems a bit on the less respectful side to refer to Him as Pa.

Interesting juxtaposition, no?

Just saw this on the headline ticker over on al.com:

• Bill Clinton: U.S. should talk to Iran 7:40 a.m. CT

• Democrats sit out detainee debate 7:33 a.m. CT

So, you know--we've got one of the big Democratic dogs who thinks it's a good idea to sit and calmly discuss our differences with a hateful maniac whose stated purpose in life is to kill the infidels and apostates in order to clear some room for the 12th Imam, while our own elected representatives of the same party just can't bring themselves to discuss an important issue with their fellow citizens, who simply happen to belong to a different political party?

Yep, that there's some winning strategery.

Homework

Stan the Soon To Be Ex-Gummint Man sends along a link to Dr. Helen's place where the discussion turns to homework, and the lack of correlation between more homework and higher achievement.

Interesting stuff, and the commenters have some good points.

Having four kids, ranging from high school to elementary school ages, I figure I've got as much empirical experience as anyone else in the topic, so my opinion is: it all depends.

The idea that more homework is needed has come about from our good educational folks who observed students from other countries where schooling is much more rigorous (such as Japan). Those kids have a lot of homework, so we figure WE need a lot of homework to be able to compete.

But what everyone seems to forget (and which is brought up in Dr. Helen's comment section) is that there's a quality/quantity part of the equation. Simply loading kids down with lots of inane busywork does nothing but make them miserable. And you can just about be guaranteed that if the homework is inane busywork, the classwork is no better.

Again, part of this is born of competing desires on the part of educators--we (folks who still think schooling is necessary) want to SAY that we're doing the same thing other countries are doing with their systems, yet in practice we find that requires adherance to a higher standard of testing and insuring something is actually being learned. BUT, we don't actually want to make anyone feel bad about themselves if they fail.

So we have incredibly high standards, but no expectation that anyone would actually have to attain them.

I see it in my kids--they do get As, but even the worst kids in their classes rarely fail. In fact, they rarely even get Cs. Why push yourself to do better if there's no reason? Why have to deal with irate parents who threaten to sue if their child is held back? Why worry if your kids bring home Bs or Cs--it's not like they're failing, right?

So you have a situation where excellence can occur, but there's no penalty for its lack. Now there's a lot of "progressive" folks who see nothing wrong with that scenario, but it's not a recipe for anything other than a continual slide into irrelevance.

Reba and I push our kids because we know the real world is a competitive place and they need to be self-reliant and self-sufficient should the need arise where such skills could mean their survival. Yes, all that 'it takes a village' crap is sweet and useful, but what happens when you find yourself without a village? If you don't know how to use the tools of knowledge, you get really extinct, really quick. SOMEone needs to know how things work and how to make things work, and I don't want to go through life thinking that my kids are incapable of independence. Reba and I are both of the mind that there is still some shame in being stupid, and in allowing stupidity to flourish.

But having seen some of the stuff the kids have to do, it's clear some of their teachers never had mamas and daddies who saw anything wrong with having stupid kids. Despite all their degrees and testing, some of these folks entrusted with educating our children are themselves dense as lead.

As some of Dr. Helen's commenters noted, there's homework, and then there's homework. As with anything else in life, it has to be judged on its merits--some of it's worthless and does nothing to make kids better at anything other than using a pencil.

Some of it is stimulating and useful in extending the child's understanding of classroom concepts.

Eliminating it entirely is probably not the solution, nor is simply adding more. The reasoning behind it needs to be properly examined to determine if it can be of help, and it needs to be structured so that it actually serves its purpose.

All this reasoning and purposing and stuff doesn't happen by accident--it is the task of the teacher and the administration (and ultimately, the parents) to insist that whatever is done, is done with a clear purpose and reason. This can only happen when parents decide to quit shielding their children from failure or deflecting from them bad consequences for bad actions.

Obviously, this has become much more difficult in a public school setting. Some districts manage to do very well, others less so, and some are utter and abject failures. The ability for parents to have some choice in the manner in which their children are taught is the only way to begin addressing this inequity. Of course, that dilutes the power and control of state-sanctioned educators and their legislative lackeys, so parents have had a hard time overcoming it. But it can be done.

And speaking of legislators, the solution to better schooling also has very little to do with money. It all comes down to committment, which is why homeschooled children can perform as well or better than children in public or private schools.

In the end, as with most things, the homework concept is probably a good one, but the execution is lacking. The execution won't get better until you decide to make it better. Quit complaining and do something.

HEY, OLD TIMER!

It’s time again for the 5,901st (or so) consecutive edition of the Axis of Weevil Thursday Three! Last week’s theme dealt with items of a novel and new-fangled nature, so as a counterpoise to that, THIS week we will talk about things ancient and decrepit. Sound like fun? OF COURSE IT DOES!!

As with all T-Threes, we will give you three questions, and in return expect nothing but your time and answers to those questions. All you have to do is either leave your response below, or leave a link to your blog so we can come over there and look and see what all you’ve written.

To begin, then:

1) What is the oldest book you own? (Modern reprints of old books don’t count, so don’t say stuff like the Bible. Unless you actually HAVE an old copy of the Bible, in which case that’s okay.)

2) What is the oldest object you have that you still use on a regular basis?

3) What is your favorite old joke?

Well then, there you go. Hobble off on your walkers and try to remember what the quiz was about, and tell us your answers!

As for mine:

1) I have a bound compilation of agricultural data from the U.S. Census of 1820, which is just remarkable for its depth of information and the really neat color lithographs of cows and stuff. It’s in poor shape--some water damage, and just the effects of being 186 years old, but aside from that, still pretty neat to peruse.

2) Our kitchen clock, which I dearly love. I’ve talked about it a couple of times in the past--it’s an 1850s English fusee clock (sans chime) that still keeps good time and has a nice, soothing tic-toc sound.

3) Unfortunately, due to the results of poor supervision and upbringing, many of the old jokes I know are hopelessly insensitive to all those inferior peoples of other beliefs and/or ethnicities. HOWEVER, not being one to let such things stand in the way, I will endeavor to recite one that never fails to make me laugh. Technically it’s not that old, since it only dates back to the early days of space exploration, but it’s my blog so you’ll just have to get over it. As with all jokes of this sort, feel free to insert the stereotypical stupid person of your choice as the butt of the joke rather than the one I’ve chosen.

ANYWAY, back in the very earliest days of the space program, NASA was still not quite certain that manned flight would be safe for its astronauts. They had sent up mice, and dogs, and monkeys, but were still leery of sending an actual person up. In order to be as safe as possible, on the next test mission they decided to send up a monkey and the University of Alabama engineering student they had working as a janitor.

The student, who wasn’t that bright, was excited about going, but to keep him interested, he was told that he would be in charge of the capsule and the monkey would only be his assistant. In reality, his controls were dummy ones, and the monkey was actually in charge, but since he didn’t know any better, he was quite proud of his accomplishment.

The launch day arrived, and things went smoothly, and soon the Bama student and the monkey were orbiting the Earth, each one busily pushing buttons. Soon, however, the Bama student noticed something about his ‘assistant.’

Every so often, the monkey would quietly take a small scrap of paper out of his space suit, unfold it, look at it, look at the Bama student, nod, and then fold the paper and put it back in his suit. This behavior continued off and on every few minutes, until the curious Bama student simply could not stand it any longer. The next time the monkey took out the paper, the Bama student lunged and grabbed it away from him and quickly unfolded it.

Neatly typed on the paper were the words: “Don’t forget to feed the Bama student.”

Yes, it’s starting early this year…

Hey, speaking of crazy...

Calif. sues carmakers over global warming

By Michael Kahn

SAN FRANCISCO (Reuters) - California on Wednesday sued six of the world's largest automakers, including General Motors Corp. and Toyota Motor Corp., over global warming, charging that greenhouse gases from their vehicles have caused billions of dollars in damages.

The lawsuit filed in U.S. District Court in Northern California was the first of its kind to seek to hold manufacturers liable for the damages caused by their vehicles' emissions, state Attorney General Bill Lockyer said. [...]

Lockyer told Reuters he would seek "tens or hundreds of millions of dollars" from the automakers.

The lawsuit seeks monetary damages for past and ongoing contributions to global warming and asks that the companies be held liable for future monetary damages to California. [...]

"Shameless pandering and infernal idiocy," you say? Well, consider the source:

[...] Lockyer -- a Democratic candidate for state treasurer in the November election [...]

If your idea of a wise steward is someone who will waste millions of your taxpayer dollars on an absolutely insane lawsuit simply so he can grandstand and preen, then by all means, elect this man as your state treasurer.

Obviously, the car companies are going to have to work on this in the courtroom, but it might be worth considering that state, county, and local jurisdictions in California buy a lot of cars--police cars, utility trucks, supervisor's vehicles. Since the state has just become a plaintiff in a lawsuit against the car companies, it only seems fair that those companies should suspend delivery of all vehicles and spare parts to California government offices until this is settled. Sure wouldn't want the state to be seen as having a conflict of interest or anything, or further exacerbate the air quality problems in California by continuing to fill the place up with filthy death-spewing internal combustion thingies. Also, I think it would be wise until this is all settled for all public employees to have to park their official vehicles and take public transportation. Keep a united front and all.

Ask Dr. Possum!

Well, look who just waddled in--our favorite physician and dispenser of prescriptions, Dr. Possum!* It being a slowish news day--it's just the same crazy ranting dictators and Democrats, all doing their crazy and their ranting as people point and laugh--it seems like the perfect time to take a break and see what's ailing YOU, the world's finest blog audience. Hangnail? Typhus? Vapor lock? ANSWERS TO THESE MALADIES, plus many more, can be had with the merest pressing of computer keys. Just leave your question about your medical, parlimentary, agronomic, fiduciary, or ethical situation in the comments below, and Dr. Possum will adjust his spectacles, ponder, research, and break wind lustily while crafting a suitable answer for you.

SO, what troubles can he help you with today?

*Disclaimer: Dr. Possum is a medical doctor, but only in the sense that he claims to be one. He has not actually attended medical school, although once he did look at the naughty parts of the 1918 edition of Henry Gray's Anatomy of the Human Body. That being neither here nor there, one should be cautioned that the advice offered herein is only to be taken seriously if it actually sounds like it might be legitimate, but then only when all other measures have failed.

Well, I'll be.

As you know, I also have another stupid blog, devoted to my trusty lump of Swedish iron. In a slight change from this site, it does have some commercial content on there, including a link to my very own lumpy Swedish iron CafePress store.

Believe it or not, enough people have bought stuff from there over the past year or so that I actually received a commission check over the weekend.

$28.88.

Hey, it's a start! It was enough to fill the tank with premium yesterday AND get a car wash--the WORKS!--so maybe this whole blogging thing IS a way to make money!

Or not.

If Lileks lived in Greensboro...(Update 2)

...I bet he'd be all over this one--Historic century-old opera house in Greensboro may be renovated

An interesting article about a place that hasn't been touched for at least 50 years (and really more like 80):

[...] As Cobbs' flashlight sweeps through the shadows it reveals a once grand chandelier that hangs in the corner of the backstage area. Vintage playbills lie about. A busted player piano with popped keys rests in another corner.

High above, the ornate pressed tin ceiling still has hints of its gold leaf paint. On the ceiling medallion above the center of the floor is a dulled mural with three chubby cherubs. In corners, here and there graffiti marks the walls: scrawled autographs of minstrel musicians from the 1910s to teenage testimonials from the 1930s. [...]

Built by businessman Jeffries A. Blunt, the Greensboro Opera House remains the dominant building in Greensboro's downtown business district.

[...] a businessman from Marion bought the opera house and closed it in the mid-1930s, then opened a movie theater a few blocks away.

The access stairway to the opera house was torn out in the 1950s, leaving the faded stage backdrops and ancient popcorn machine out-of-reach. [...]

I sure hope they can make a go of it.

UPDATE: And boy, don't I love Flikr!--here's a photo of the building in the article as it appears in modern times (tall one on the right), and a photo of it from the rear. And here's a closeup of a rather interesting door by another Flikrite.

Update 2--And whaddya know! 'Now Let Us Praise Famous Photogs'--this one from the Library of Congress, one of Walker Evans' shots of downtown Greensboro, with the opera house there on the left. At the time in the summer of 1936, it still had its sign identifying it as "The Strand." A man stands in the doorway seen in the previous modern photos--at one time, there was a balcony there.

Then again, maybe not.

Stupid COMPUTER has decided to start acting like me--not doing what it should, when it should. To make matters worse, even though we aren’t allowed to have any control whatsoever on our machinery, and even though we’re all operating with generations of browsers and applications that are at least two versions removed from the most current versions, I found out that such control doesn’t prevent malicious websites from scurrying onboard and dumping a load of malware on my hard drive.

I was trying to find a good definition of passive-aggressive yesterday, and the first site I went to was a nest of evil, stupid DeluxeCommunications garbage, and since I don’t have control of my control panel, there’s still a bit of the thing lying about and creating pop-ups whenever I go online. I guess I could tell the IT folks, but I fear getting reprimanded for trying to find out a good definition of passive-aggressive.

And there’s just the whole general buggy-ness of the system--none of it works well, and I still will get random complete shut-downs when Adobe Reader pops up, or a cloud passes overhead. And right now there’s something going on with the network and the Internet connection won’t work at all--we have those sometimes, too, so I know it’s not something my machine is causing. It’s just the way things are.

Stupid computers.

Given Harvard's Recent Tendencies...

...one might wonder if it will be fer it or agin it--Yale creates center on anti-Semitism

See!?

If I do my work, I DO get to come out and play!!

One would think that would be a better motivator.

ANYway, I had much to do yesterday (and extending on into last night) but it looks a bit less cloudy today, so maybe your usual ration of possumy stupidity will be back up to its usual level.

No, of course I don't have time to play.

I still have tons of junk to do today, but I get distracted so easily.

Say, maybe I could go on disability for that, and my therapy could be blogging!

Anyway, you might be interested to know that the Youngest Child's e-mail account microkerfuffle is still wending its way though the system. Got an e-mail response from her regular teacher that she had forwarded my question on to the computer teacher, who got back to me today. Not entirely satisfactorily, to my way of thinking. I still haven't gotten an explanation on whether I inadvertently gave permission for this or not (it's possible that somewhere in all those papers at registration that I signed something allowing it), nor for why a school employee might have ever thought she qualified as a legal guardian, nor why Yahoo was deemed appropriate for a youngster's e-mail account. As I noted in my reply to the reply, one of the ads on Cat's page was this:

Inbox Infatuation

Find intriguing, compatible singles at Yahoo! Personals. Have your matches delivered right here in your Yahoo! Mailbox.

As I noted, that's not quite appropriate for a 9-year-old.

Anyway, at this point, I have tried to be as restrained, yet pointed, as possible. Since I didn't get quite the response I was looking for (something less along the lines of a blithe dismissal), a copy of all the correspondence to date went to the principal and the school board's tech department guy. We'll see what happens next.

IN OTHER NEWS, well, it looks like we have a soccer player in the house again.

Yep, Middle Girl had heard an announcement of a meeting, and so we showed up last night at the high school, and it looks like she's going to be on the junior varsity team. There was a big group of high school girls there, along with around 8 or so other 8th graders like her. AND the group including some of the girls from her old team, so I think she'll enjoy herself. And practice is after school and finished by 5:30 or so, rather than 9:00, so she will still have time to get her homework done. And bestest of all, her old coach from the club team is the JV coach. So, back into that again, but hopefully this time it will be a bit less time consuming. And less expensive.

Now then, lunch.

Great News For Possumblog!!

Via famed NASA rocket scientist Steevil, this important news from the BBC: Voices in the head 'are normal'

[...] "Conversely, a person who has had more positive life experiences and formed more healthy beliefs about themselves and other people might develop a more positive view of their voices." [...]

I know this blog wouldn't be half as entertaining without mine!

(Although I joke about this, I don't really hear voices in my head. Do I? No, I didn't think so. Hmm? Probably just eat at my desk, but I haven't decided yet. Mm-hmm, it was okay. Yeah. No, overall I think it's going to be good for her, and she seemed to be very excited about it. Uh-huh. Well, I thought the same thing, but it doesn't look like that will matter so much--WHAT? WHO can see what I'm typing!? QUICK--GET OUT OF HERE!!)

Well, I doubt they're just out for a morning drive...

Via CNN--"Wire services report Thailand's Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra has declared a state of emergency after tanks were spotted rolling through Bangkok and coup rumors swept the city."

Be interesting to see how this plays out--one would hope that our intelligence services would have at least had an inkling things were unstable. Thailand has been an ally of the US in a strategic part of the world for a long time, so things of this nature can't be great for us in the short term.

Now tomorrow...

...you folks are just going to have to make do with less frothy drivel. I do, after all, have work to do.

Rrrowlll! YEAH, BABY!!

Slinky models hit the catwalk in London

Photos below--Caution, viewer discretion advised...

Well, I got to thinking...

T.O. may have plate screwed into hand

...it would make it a lot easier at picnics and parties and things. Lot harder to drop a plateful of cake when it's screwed down like that. But you know, I also got to thinking that other things might be more difficult. Then I realized it wasn't even a story about me in the first place.

Oh well.

What is this, England!?

Nice sunny morning, got into the office and within thirty minutes it had started raining. Rained for a while, and then midday bloomed nice and sunny again. And now it's raining again.

Hmm. Maybe it is--I mean, what with my bad teeth and all.

And as he finished reading the last sentence of the article...

Johansson likes her hourglass figure

[...] "I'm curvy — I'm never going to be 5'11' and 120 pounds. But I feel lucky to have what I've got."

And, given the chance, she'd like to trade lives with President Bush. "Whose life would I like to step into for the day? The president's. I could probably get some things done in the Oval Office."

...a wistful smile creased the face of the 42nd President.

Paw-paw done come home!

All the highs and lows from Larry Anderson's road trip.

Well, at least it's not a greyhound.

My sister seems to have had that particular urge pulled out from under her.

Thank goodness. She--despite my continual, "people-who've-had-'em"-derived cautions to her--had signed up for a retired greyhound at the dog-getting place there in Mobile, but in a stroke of terrible fortune (for her, not the dog) the agency adopted her dog out to someone else. By mistake? Maybe? Who knows. But it really soured her on the whole deal.

Rebound choice?

A papillon.

::sigh::

Why she is so dead set on getting a dog, I cannot fathom, and how she went from greyhound to papillon is likewise something I cannot understand. She even has decided to bring it with her to work for the first few weeks until it's older. Yeah, I know--SUCH A FLAMIN' GREAT IDEA! If you can't care for it at home well enough, bringing it to a DOCTOR'S OFFICE is surely a winner, right?

She seemed not to discern my level of sarcasm when I said that to her.

Anyway, just called her at work because she didn't have my e-mail address and had left a message last night for me to call so she could share with me some pictures of her new baby boy. Had to speak to her nurse first, of course. (Miss Melanie is quite a hoot--I might have to call back and talk to her just for fun.)

But, enough of that--in one last effort to place doubts in her mind about the wisdom of acquiring yet another animal to tend, I took this tack. In my best manly man voice, I said: "You know, I know those tiny flouncy dogs do find a way to procreate, but come on--think how embarrassing it must be to be a male papillon! You need to think about that--what could he grow up to be!? A hair stylist? A decorator!?"

Without missing a beat, my sister added, "An architect?"

"Uhhhh--I...dangitall!"

Hoist by my own petard! ::shakes fist at phone::

Oh well.

Pictures forthcoming when she gets a chance to send some. Maybe if nothing else I can get her to name him Steve McQueen.

I have been known...

...to eat a mess of turnip greens or two in my life, but I never have really been that fond of the turnip itself over the years. Part of it is the thing that probably every kid has run into--you see your mom cooking something that looks like wonderful starchy buttery boiled potatoes, and you sneak one out of the bowl and it turns out to to be a turnip. They just don't do it for me. Then again, I've never had them the way Kitchen Hand fixes them.

Although, since my pot pretty much stays on a constant low boil (so to speak), it might be best to skip them.

Cool! I've always wondered what it would be like to be ignored by that many people!

Home Depot is hiring 1,000 new employees

The article noted that Home Depot has 2,000 stores in the US, Canada, and Mexico. Best I can tell, this means a net increase of one-half employee per store.

As Opie Taylor would say, "Poor Horatio."

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe I just don't have a fine enough sense of playful irony, but I just have to say that if you've got yourself a religion that--rightly or wrongly--has a reputation for being its adherents being thin-skinned, insensitive, violent, murderous, and having tiny misshapen genitals, you probably should find a better way to respond to criticism of said religion than taking offense at every single negative thing people say and threatening to kill everyone who disagrees with you.

But, hey, like I say, maybe that's just me.

Now then, that's over with.

Had to make my first call of the day to My Friend Jeff^tm and sing "War Eagle" to him. Even though he is an LSU grad and the son of an LSU grad, he seems to have a very thin skin about such things. I do not know why.

WELL, the weekend was full, and most of it Saturday was spent tending to my wife, who's had a bout of internal distress of late, and to make matters worse by a factor of eleventy jillion, she had a nightmare very early Saturday morning. I blame the cheeseburger she had at the game Friday night. Among other things.

Now, nightmares can be very distressing. But when you've got work stress, and a gut full of stadium hamburger and popcorn in you, and all them female hormone-driven emotions coursing through your innards, nightmares can become MUCH more disturbing. And tear-inducing.

I don't blame her for being upset--the worst one combined all of the hot-button phobias and angstiness you could think of--missing child, missing husband, frightening circus clown showing up in missing husband's clothes, missing child recovered after having been nearly drowned by said clown--on and on. It really was an awful sounding dream, and was one of those that kept her edgy and spent-feeling all weekend.

First thing to do was get her calmed down and close the tear duct valves, and then get her downstairs for some hot chocolate and sunshine. We watched the hummingbirds for a bit, then went outside and let Lightning out to play a bit while we sat on the stone bench and played with him. Or rather, watched him entertain himself by trying to get himself a squirrel out of the pine tree.

Reba finally got calmed back down enough from her cocktail of chocolate, kittens, flowers, sunshine, and hummingbirds to come back inside and start breakfast. Or tell me what she wanted, rather. No use having her possibly burn something and have THAT become something to set off the eye sprinklers. So, she gave me an idea what she wanted, and I set in to make sure it got done easily, quickly, and without scorching anything or turning the eggs hard and brown. (By the way, it was croissants stuffed with sausage, egg, cheese and onion. And, of course, more hot chocolate.)

That done, more domesticity--got that laundry going so she wouldn't feel distressed about going off with the girls to do their get-together that afternoon.

Now, obviously, I love my wife and don't want her to feel bad about a dumb ol' dream, and I get a benefit out of breakfast and clean clothes just like everyone else, but I must admit another (very minor and inconsequential) reason for being as solicitous as I possibly could be (short of putting on a dress and pretending to be her mother) was that I wanted her in a good mood so I could watch the Auburn-LSU game without feeling guilty. Yes, I know such an admission makes me sound very shallow and callous, but I'm a guy. If guys weren't shallow and callous, wars would be VERY boring.

As would football.

Anyway, I DID get to watch my game, and the girls (including Cat, even though it was supposed to be a teen thing for the girls at church, which turned out to be a mistake to send her along) took off on their expedition while Boy and I rooted on the Tigers (blue and orange version). Actually, I rooted, and Jonathan wanted to know when his friend was going to call back. He'd asked Jonathan to come over to his house Saturday, but apparently didn't know his family had planned a reunion. Boy called and they said they'd be back by lunchtime, but they never called back. Thus, disappointing Boy to no end.

::sigh::

He's not nearly shallow and callous enough.

After the heart-stopping conclusion of the game (and I was through mentally berating CBS, and most especially twin morons Craig Bolerjack and Steve Beuerlein), Jonathan asked, "Dad, since I've been really good today, do you think I could maybe get something I've been wanting to get?"

We still had to have supper anyway, so we decided to go do our own boy's night out at Target, where he got to shop to his heart's content for various action figures that he'd been eyeing for weeks now. That seemed to take some of the sting out of not getting to go to his friend's house. Some, not all. Also made a stop at Arby's for hot meat in order to buck up his spirits. By the time we got home, he was feeling chipper again.

Then Reba got home, and apparently Catherine was a pill for the last part of the trip and made the whole thing have an unpleasant conclusion and a very long ride home.

::sigh::

At least everyone got to make their own custom lotion/bathstench material. All sorts of exotic fragrances that smelled like a candle shop explosion. I am in the wrong line of work, let me tell you.

Anyway, aside from the Youngest acting like a turd, they had a pretty good time of things and spent wads of cash, so, you know, it's all good, eh?

Of course.

Sunday was more quiet, although still very busy with a trip across the county for lunch, then back to our side of town for a series of meetings Reba had at the church building. Me? I stayed in the van with Boy and Catherine and we all slept for a while. "Slept" in my case being something more like "lapsed into semiconsciousness." Real sleep is restful, and slouching in a van seat while you drift in and out is just tiring.

Evening services, then to home, and then COMPUTER STUFF!

Grr. Seems that Catherine set up herself a Yahoo e-mail account. WHICH SHE CAN'T DO since she's under 13. So I had to wrestle her account name and password from her and delete it, and then make her a new account without her name or other pervy-attracting information and make it a part of MY account on Yahoo. How did she do this!? I mean, there's a big screen that comes up and says you have to get your parents to finalize your account if you're too young.

Well, it seems her teacher helped them all set up an account--you know, since it's supposed to be your parent or guardian, and she's their guardian at school.

"WTF!?" I abbreviated to myself in my mind--"Catherine--she's NOT your guardian! If you have a parent, THEY are your guardian, your teacher is NOT." I told her when I got her up this morning that I'd redone her account and told her I needed to be able to see who sends her stuff, and she understood that much. I don't think the teacher understands the implications of her actions, but it's still more than a little off-putting that she wouldn't at least use something through the school, or get the school to invest in some kid-safe software that resides on their server rather than wide-open ether. But then again, there are parents that think nothing of giving their 9-year-olds cell phones or letting them go online with no supervision. Still, there's way too many murderous clowns out there for my comfort.

Anyway, it was a tiring weekend. I need a nap.

It is about that time.

Well, almost.

Anyway, the weekend is fast approaching, and lots of it. Tonight we're going over to the stadium to see the hometown Huskies take on the good folks from Pell City. We haven't been to either of the first two games this year, so it'll be nice to get out and see what there is to be seen. (Or to try to avert my eyes from things I shouldn't see.)

Tomorrow, grass cutting, as usual, and watching the Auburn game to see if my prediction is right, and then the girls and Mama are supposed to go do some kind of thing with the girls at church. Something where they go off to a boutique and make bath stuff. I don't know what it is, other than an excuse to spend money on frivolous smell-goody things, rather than necessary and important items such as junk Volvo parts.

Sunday, lots of goings on and meetings and such like--and maybe even something spiritually uplifting! Amazing, I know!

SO, all of you be good and do good and I'll see you back here come Monday.

Fortune Cookie Wisdom of the Day!

And it's all about ME!! Hooray! Not enough of that nowadays, you know.

ANYway, it appears that teams of highly skilled Chinese astrologers have been working overtime, in that this week we have three fortunes for you to ponder. Well, for ME to ponder, since they're about me. Memememememe.

So, first up:

You are always welcome in any gathering.

That is just so true--just the other day, I got a call to come to a party, and the hosts gave me a lovely red jacket to wear, and my own big silver platter full of horsdyovaries to carry around with me! People always wanting to eat off my plate was a bit off-putting, however.

Next:

Everywhere you choose to go, friendly faces will greet you.

Man alive, those Chinese seers are something ELSE! That one's true, TOO! But, of course, at least part of this is due to my modest, yet outgoing personality that just naturally makes people be friendly toward me. I think, too, that's why I hear them laughing and saying my name when they don't think I'm listening.

Finally:

A fond memory will soon lead to a renewed friendship.

See? I'm just such a darned friendly guy! And just FULL of fond memories. Like that time when we snuck... Hmm. Maybe not that one.

But then there's the time that I had everyone in the trunk and we went-- Maybe not that one, either.

I wonder if it might be the one where we paid for that great big h-- I think maybe I might need to not have such fond memories.

TODAY'S LUCKY NUMBERS:

4 10 28 31 34 36

7 18 27 39 41. 23 (In RED!!)

3 15 17 18 44 47

"Spray 'Misty' for me..."

In which I once again sally forth as a hard-hitting citizen-journalist to expose yet another of the world's manifold problems--pleasantly-scented restroom deodorizers!

(Yes, it's a slow news day.)

Anyway, the housekeeping folks here have taken it upon themselves to equip each restroom in the building with a spray can of something called Misty, a "dry deodorizer" of some sort, in the refreshing "Lemon Peel" odor. (Why such things aren't called reodorants, I cannot tell you.) Anyway the intent, as expressed on the can writing, is to remove the unpleasant odors that might be sucked up your nose and replace them with newer, betterer odors. According to the company's info (.pdf file)

"The fragrances have been upgraded to ensure superior olfactory notes and tones. But a fantastic fragrance is not the only premium feature you will find. Also included is not one, but two odor counteractants for maximum deodorizing power. The dual system quickly neutralizes malodors with industrial and institutional strength even on smoke, decay, urine, feces, solvent, vomit, cooking, animal and more."

Good night Irene, what more could there be!?

IN any event, I will attest that the chosen fragrance is indeed robust yet pleasant. That being the problem. It's a little TOO nice--it smells a bit vanilla-y, something like Stewart's Creme Soda, or maybe like someone is cooking lemon-poppy seed muffins.

Now, obviously I don't want our restrooms to smell bad, like the stuff they are designed to carry to the sewer. Neither do I necessarily want them to smell of industrial solvents and disinfecting chemicals. But I have to say, I really can't get into the idea that the outhouse should smell like the kitchen--it unnerves me to walk in, expecting to see a man about a horse, and it seem as though I lost my way and wound up in a bakery.

Nice scent--wrong venue.

In order to make things better, I have taken it upon myself to suggest alternative scents. Looking at the available choices: Baby Powder, Bayberry, Cinna Fresh, Cool Breeze, Lemon Peel, Snappy Apple (The Traditionals); Autumn Heather, Harvest Fruit, Holiday Potpourri, Spring Rain, Summer Breeze, Winter Fresh (The Seasonals); Floral Gardens, Highland Forest, Waterfall Mist, Wild Berry Patch (The Botanicals); and Fresh Cotton, Mango, Melon, Orange, Peach, Vanilla (The Naturals), I believe it would be best to do away first of all with anything that might be edible.

This gives us:

Baby Powder--Possibly good, in that it is what you put on a baby after you change his smelly stinkin' pants. There is, however, the off-chance that this is actually made from powdered babies. That's just wrong.

Cool Breeze, Summer Breeze--Well, there's breezes, and there's breezes. This could be a good choice if you had beans the previous evening.

Autumn Heather--I knew a girl named Heather back in college, but I don't remember her smelling like anything special. Let's skip this one.

Spring Rain, Waterfall Mist--Sometimes the smell of falling water CAN be pleasant, so this one might be a good choice.

Winter Fresh--Sounds like it might be like smelling someone with a mouthful of Wrigley's or Certs, which would tend to put it over in the edible-so-don't-use-it category, but then again, it might be that smell of burning dirt when the furnace kicks on for the first time. Skip it.

Floral Gardens, Highland Forest--No. I can't stand florally botanical type smells in the crapper. It just makes the whole experience that much more unpleasant.

Fresh Cotton--Well, I like this smell--nothing like a set of bedsheets right out of the dryer, but again, it's such a pleasant non-pooping-place smell that it might be the wrong thing, too.

After all that, it pretty much leaves us with the scents intended to replicate either air or water.

Might be best just to open the window.

Okay, this is worthy of the ol' Tom Landry quote.

Although he was talking about what an incredible game football was when he said sometimes "it's so incredible, it's unbelievable," I think I can say this fellow's work fits the bill even more.

Way up there in the mountains...

is a sleepy little village called Wandiligong.

Boy, how I wish I had the time and money to see more of this old world in person.

GRAMPS!

I have been incredibly tardy in this announcement, so my profound apologies to Nate for neglecting until now to say CONGRATULATIONS on the birth of Marinda Faye McCord, a strapping fine lass and grandbaby number two. Photos of the youngun can be seen here.

Adventures in Headline Writing

Fake grenade causes "explosion" at Pensacola area beach

Okay, here's the deal--Reuters has ruined the use of quote marks for all media. It is no longer possible to read a headline with quote marks and know for sure what's intended (sometimes you can't even tell what's going on when you read the story) but still, this has to be one of the more egregious uses of the marks.

PENSACOLA, Fla. (AP) — A fake grenade caused an "explosion" at a Pensacola area beach.

The Escambia County, Florida, sheriff's office says a woman found what she believed to be a live hand grenade in the water at Quietwater Beach. Several beachgoers called police about it, saying the pin was still attached. Another woman carried it carefully to shore.

But deputies later determined that it was actually a grenade-shaped cigarette lighter. Souvenir shops on the beach sell novelty lighters that resemble everything from chrome wheels to fish.

The fake grenade was later tossed out.

Look, AP--it's not a good idea to try to spice up a stupid story about a grenade-shaped cigarette lighter by using the word "explosion" ANYwhere in the story or headline--ESPECIALLY when there was no explosion, actual or figurative. News has become misleading and mendacious enough without actively trying to make it more so. Yes, I realize the intent was to say it caused an explosion of interest or activity or other some stupid thing, but please.

Second of all, if you DO find something like this and aren't sure what you've found--DON'T PICK IT UP AND CAREFULLY CARRY IT. Just call the police and let them handle it.

Weird Animals!

Strange array of creatures lies under Alabama

KATHERINE BOUMA
News staff writer

Beneath Alabama are creatures as strange and unexamined as any on Earth, animals living with no known source of food - blind and nearly invisible fish, shrimp, crayfish and salamanders.

Alabama has more caves than any other state. And scientists believe those subterranean ecosystems cradle the nation's greatest diversity of groundwater creatures.

But they know little beyond that. Life underground is an area that has been, until now, largely ignored by biologists. [...]

You think the stuff underground is weird, you oughta see what walks around Montgomery!

Anyway, it's actually a pretty neat article about something that has always fascinated me. And let's face it--gives me the heebie-jeebies. I mean, if all those critters are down there, you figure it's probably just crawling with CHUDs, too! Eeeyoo-IGGLY!

KITTY!

Since it's Friday, it's also time for all of the really popular A-list sorts of bloggers to take a break from punditacation and world-saving and show you fluffy kitties!

Luckily, I do have a cat, a relief from not being a really popular A-list sort of blogger.

UNFORTUNATELY, I didn't realize it but my 1GB SD card in the camera took it upon itself this morning to be filled up, and I didn't have time to delete some of the old ones, so the selection of pictures today is noticeably scanty. Apologies to fans of The World's Most Expensive Free Kitten.

ANYway, first up, what Lightning looks like VERY close up--

Not a very good picture, but he keeps moving. Time for some kitty tranquilizers.

Witnessed by the fact that after he attacked the camera, he immediately flipped around and attacked the downspout.

Then he ran away and had to be snagged out of our neighbor's shrubbery by Catherine. AND THAT'S IT--time to load up another memory card.

"Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright..."

Good morning, football fanatics! Once more the mighty oaken doors of Possumblog Sports Center are kicked open for yet another round of our weekly commentary on the virtues of the glorious Auburn Tigers!

This week the #3 ranked Plainsmen (2-0, 1-0 SEC) come back home to the Loveliest Village after sojourning to Starkville to silence a cowbell convention, which they did convincingly to the tune of 34-0.

Despite the Tigers looking quite fit overall, there have been a few scriveners in various media outlets who have expressed worry that the Bulldogs were able to lock down the Tiger running game so well. I am still not convinced that it was necessarily all due to the efforts of the Mississsippians, however.

Maybe I've just heard too much from the conspiracy mongering folks living down in the fever swamp, but I have feeling ol' Coach Tub might have been sandbagging a bit. I think the staff knew Miss State was going to concentrate on Kenny Irons, and went ahead and let them (and everyone else who might go by the initials of LSU) think they really had slowed him down. The stats certainly don't lie, do they? Now, it's not that Auburn wouldn't have wanted to run more yards, or that Mississippie State wasn't physical, but maybe there was the sense that it wasn't worth worrying too much about, and maybe the coaches had a sense that the pass game needed a workout, and the running backs needed to stay healthy for our guests from Baton Rouge.

Grist for the mill, I suppose.

Anyway, the Tigers looked balanced, and practiced, and poised, and made very few mistakes.

WHICH WILL BE CRUCIAL THIS WEEK--seeing as how our SEC Championship Hope-Dashing Opponents from the Bayooo will come calling.

This has gotten to be a big ticket over the years. Obviously it's not the Alabama game, which around here counts for everything, and it's not the Georgia game, which is the South's Oldest Rivalry, but the fact is that whoever wins this contest has had a way of winding up as SEC champion, and by extension, a contender for the not-quite-mythical national championship. So while there are other regional games of similar intensity, there is nothing else right now that matches it in national implication.

Therefore, I am predicting (along with everyone else) that this is going to be a good one amongst a host of good ones this weekend.

LSU is flashy hot right now, with lots of points scored against Lou-Lafayette (big deal) and Arizona (better, but still not quite all that), while Auburn has been much more staid and workmanlike in its two outings. All the various people who know things are predicting yet another titanic struggle this year--another nail-biting single digit win by one side or another, but for once, I'm going to go way out on a limb here.

I say Auburn is going to startle everyone with a wide-open passing attack throughout the game, and not just on 3rd and long. I predict you'll see every possible short and long route they have, and you'll see them on 1st downs just as much as on 3rd. NOT ONLY THAT, you are going to see a whole 'nother running game, as well--no three yards and a cloud of dust stuff, but some wild wacky stuff. Why? I think it goes against what everyone is expecting, and it jibes with my thoughts that the Blue and Orange Tigers have been deliberately conservative to now. On defense, they've been strong and solid, and I don't think they'll give anything up to LSU, BUT, I think LSU is going to continue what they've been doing. This will theoretically make them easier to plan against--they're already doing exciting stuff, so if you know how to stop that, what are they gonna do, go conservative? Nah. If the Blue can hold on defense, I think you're gonna see something not seen in a while. A blowout. Yep. You heard it here first. BUT MORE ABOUT THAT LATER...

Right now, it's time to discuss one of the best secrets to top team performance, and for once, we find an opponent who seems to have even less consideration for the young ladies in its valiant young cheerleading corps than we do. Although our computing department has let us down once more by not bringing us the very newest photos of our brave cheersters, we still have an edge on the Bayou Bengals. One plain ol' team photo is it, folks. Sheesh.

Now, some might say that this oversight by the Cajuns is MORE than made up for by the Golden Girls, who don't have a Bea Arthur or Estelle Getty anywhere. It would be hard to argue that point.

Still, I have to give this one to the home team.

AND AS FOR THAT SCORE PREDICTION--as I said, I'm in a limb-going-out-on mood this week, and feel like it's going to be quite a zingy show for the host team. My prediction this week then is...








AUBURN 30 -- LSU 13

That might not sound like a blowout, but given the recent past history of the series, that's a LOT of distance between winner and loser. IF IT DOESN'T TURN OUT THIS WAY, I can still guarantee you that this is going to be a super game, and I can say that even if the unthinkable should happen and LSU manages to make us run out of time. If you can watch it or listen to it, it would be worth it because it'll be a whim-doozy no matter what.

Kickoff 2:30 Saturday from Jordan-Hare Stadium, with television coverage provided by Katie Couric.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

Surely to GOODNESS you don't think I'd let you leave without first honoring our third POSSUMBLOG STUDENT ATHLETE OF THE WEEK!

This week the arrow of fate points to Rachel Shanks, a long-shanked 5'-10" volleyballer. Miss Shanks is a junior pharmacy student, and plays as an outside hitter.

Haling from the lovely town of Madison, Alabama, she attended Bob Jones High, and in addition to having some good heightiness to her, she also has a brainy head up at the very top of her muscular shoulders, with a place in the National Society of Collegiate Scholars, Alpha Lambda Delta Honor Society, and the Phi Eta Sigma Honor Society, and was named the COSAM Outstanding Freshman.

SO, congratulations to Rachel as this week's PSAotW!

AND THAT'S STILL NOT ALL!! For all you poetry and tiger lovers...

THE TYGER
By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Okay now.

Having now dumped a wax paper sleeve of BC Powder directly onto my tooth and waited for it to begin easing the slight discomfort I am feeling, I believe I am almost ready to see if I can go find some food to eat.

I'm thinking my usual repast of uncooked macaroni, Corn Nuts, beef jerky, toffee, and shards of cracked ice would not be the best thing to eat.

Ow. Again.

Remember that scene in The Untouchables when De Niro is playing Capone, and they're having a mob guy meeting, and one guy gets skittish, and then Bobby D. starts waling on his head with a baseball bat? That scene?

That's sorta the way the OTHER side of my jaw feels today.

I am thankful, however, that Doctor Nancy was able to dispense the required level of pain in a much more time-sensitive manner. My visit today only lasted an hour and a half, so I applaud her for her expeditious manner. I think she managed better this time for a few reasons--1) She had the experienced assistant today who knows which way to hold her dental doodads, 2) She went ahead and pumped my jaw full of anesthetic beforehand, rather than doing it in stages (not that it STILL didn't require another couple of pokings during the procedure, 3) She's tired of seeing my ugly gaping maw.

I am also thankful that the left side of my jaw finally quit hurting enough to be able to chew on that side. "Enough" being the operative word, in that the muscle still has a dull throb to it, but at least I can put pressure on the tooth on that side without streamers of naughty words and white hot sparks shooting out of my mouth.

ANYWAY, I am here, and stand ready to whine and cry at the least provocation, so please beware.

Hmmm.

It’s Thursday. Seems like there used to be something we would do around here on Thursdays.

What was it?

Why, it was the AXIS OF WEEVIL THURSDAY THREE, you big silly you! That’s right, folks--America’s Most Popular Online Question and Answer Diversion Posted on Thursdays on a Blog With a Marsupial-Derived Name is BACK and BETTER than EVER!

Or not.

Our team of writers is all fresh and new and ready to go (after we were unable to come to an equitable compensation package for all the stale, old, and unprepared ones and had to send them on their way), so this season should be full of rip-roaring human interest!

Or not.

For those of you new to this exciting and grueling sport of kings, we provide for you three questions, and you provide for us three answers to those questions, and then we all read each other’s answers, and laugh and laugh and laugh. Assuming we aren’t asking questions about mortality. Anyway, all are welcome to join in--you can leave your answers in the comments section below, or you can leave a link to the answers on your very own blog.

It’s so simple even flatworms can do it!

Not quite as well as you, obviously. And they leave icky slime on the keyboard. Which I suppose all of us do from time to time, but I do have the decency to get a paper towel and wipe the keys off, something flatworms have yet to master. Then again, when you put them on a paper towel, they tend to dry out very quickly, so that might be part of the problem.

Or maybe they’re just lazy.

I tried to get one to help me carry my groceries in the house the other day and it wouldn’t. I mean, maybe I’m being too hard on them, what with them not having arms and legs and such, but still, I could have used just a little help, but NOOooo. Sorry bunch of organisms.

ON second thought, even though this is easy enough for flatworms, no flatworms may answer any of the questions. Complain all you want, but you might as well just shut up and let someone with fingers handle this one!

Where was I?

OH YES! The Thursday Three this week celebrates newness and novelty and originality and freshness and sparkly brightness with THIS SET OF QUESTIONS:

1) What are three new books that you’ve read recently?

2) What three new products have you tried lately and what were your experiences?

3) What are three new movies or shows or plays or whatever that you have seen lately, or would like to go see soon?

SEE HOW EASY THAT IS!?

So, leave your answers below or a link to your exciting new blog post for us all to come peruse.

As for my answers…

1) Well, let’s see--a couple of weeks ago I finished John Stossel’s new book, Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity. I liked it, although I think if you are an online news junkie like me, you have probably already heard a lot of the debunking of things already. Some of the chapters didn’t interest me, so I sorta skimmed them. I can’t remember which ones now, since I skimmed them.

I also just finished Tom Shachtman’s Terrors and Marvels: How Science and Technology Changed the Character and Outcome of World War II. This one took a while to get through--although reasonably well-documented, the prose doesn’t exactly fly off the page. Like so many history books that I manage to find time to read nowadays, it feels as though I’m reading through conjunctioned stacks of index cards and Post-It Notes. It also feels somewhat screedy--the implications hinting, as all good modern-day histories must (or else be deemed as unnuanced), that the overall story of World War II is missing some key parts. This seems to be the way of things now--anyone who finds out more information than what was printed before (or who is more apt at repackaging old truths) cloaks themselves in some kind of oddball clothes as the Setter-Straight of Truth. It’s not enough just to bring something interesting for everyone to ponder over, but it has to Right Past Injustices. It’s why you’re a lot more likely of late to know more about Sally Hemmings than you do about Thomas Jefferson.

Anyway, I still liked it--the theme of science being used or misused for political purposes is something to think about.

The third one is one I’m just starting-- Beyond Band of Brothers: The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters. I enjoyed the movie version of Band of Brothers, and stand amazed at Winters, who personifies a distinct kind of Americanism that is in short supply in a big part of the population today. More after I’ve finished the book.

2) Three new products? Hmm.

Well, I know one, but it’s new only to me since it HAS been around for several years--something called Water Wetter. Sounds dumb, and I was dubious at first, but this stuff is something you put in your radiator to help the water do a better job of removing heat from the engine. It’s really made for racing engines in place of glycol coolant/antifreeze, but will work well in passenger cars, too. The summertime has not been kind to a certain 20 year old Volvo I know of, especially in traffic, so I thought I would get some and see if it worked. Works like a charm--I could tell a difference in the coolant and oil temperature. The car really needs a good radiator flush, too--something a product like this can mask since it makes things run cooler and might cause you to think everything’s fine in the coolant department since it's not running as hot, but even with that caveat, it’s still a product that does what it says it will do.

I’ve been shopping for digital cameras again--this time one for Rebecca since her birthday is coming up at the end of the month. We went and played with some Monday evening at Target. Hard to believe that in only a couple of years since I bought my camera how far they’ve come in sophistication. There was a clearance-priced HP that was cheaper than what I paid for mine and had more junk on it and a bigger screen. Anyway, we didn’t get one, but I think I know which ones she likes best. The ones that come in bright colors.

Third? I can’t think of anything--we’re really just not the early-adopter sort.

3) Movies and such, huh? Hmm--well, I think I would maybe like to see All the King’s Men, but since it has Sean Penn in it and James “Gollum” Carville is one of the producers, I might be better served by getting a copy of the 1949 Broderick Crawford version.

Flags of our Fathers looks like it might be good, although I sure hope they don’t try to Pearl Harbor-ize it with all sorts of mushy love story stuff.

Flicka looks like a nice family movie, and the kids have already put in a request to go see it.

What else…oh, surely anything with Penelope Cruz and Salma Hayek would be worthy of a look, right? Sure it would.

Anyway, there you go.

Well, no time to play, it seems.

BUT, in the greatest news of all TIME, I do have another dental appointment tomorrow morning to get my other tooth worked on! YAY ME!! So, wish me luck, and let's hope the assistant knows her stuff by now.

Oh, and don't worry--there will be plenty to do in my absence...

What a load of...

...MEETING!

That was entirely too long, and now I have this great huge boulder of garbage to roll up a hill before I can play. I was just talking to Sisyphus, and he says it gets better, but I think he might have just been saying that to make himself feel better.

ANYway.

Hey! Meeting day tomorrow!

Blech. But it is a part of the paying gig, so it must be done. Gonna be a long one, too. Again, 'blech.'

Them there's the breaks, I suppose. IN any event, so you all later on tomorrow morning sometime. As usual, there is a fascinating selection of out of date trade magazines for you to read, and a copy of the Reader's Digest with all the puzzles and quizzes filled out.

Tempus Fugit

Jonathan met me in the kitchen yesterday morning as I was trying to get his sister and him all fed breakfast and out the door.

"Dad? Do we have a watch I could take to school?"

What a weird question. "A watch? What do you need a watch for?"

"To tell time with!"

"Don't y'all have clocks in your classrooms?"

"Well, yes sir, but except not in Math. Or Social Studies."

"Are you ever late for class?"

"No sir. Can I take a watch?"

Persistent little cuss he is. But I had figured out a couple of sentences ago that he was probably less interested in actually telling time than he was in having a fashion accessory.

"Son, could it be that you're not really wanting to know what time it is, but just want to have a watch to wear around?"

"No, Dad--I need to know what time it is!"

Heh. Kids!

"Well, let me tell you what--go upstairs, look in the right side of the armoire, look in the middle there where my ties are and there's a round metal can there with a bunch of old watches, and if you want, I will let you wear my Timex that I use when I'm working on the car. Is that okay?"

"YES SIR!!"

He scurried off to collect his booty--one of those black plastic Timex sports watches with a white Indiglo dial. I got it several years ago for just the reason I said, working on the car or cutting the grass so I wouldn't scratch up my good watches. And it has been a great watch, but I don't mind if he does lose it or break it, since it only cost a few dollars--and I've gotten my few dollars worth out of it.

He proudly bounced back downstairs and I said solemnly, "Son, don't lose my watch. Don't break my watch. Don't let anyone else have my watch. Understand?"

He did.

Got home last night after my bout in the dentist's torturarium and Boy was running around trying to get ready for Scouts. I took him on to his meeting because I needed something to take my mind off the throbbing in my jaw, even if only for a little while. As we sat there in the parking lot waiting for his Scoutmaster to get there, I noticed he was messing with his new wrist adornment.

"Anyone notice you had a watch on today?"

"Well, I showed Adam."

"And?"

"He thought it was really cool. It says it's water resistant to 50 meters. That's 165 feet. You know how I got that? I multiplied 50 times 3.3. Mom doesn't like it, though."

Glad he came up for a breath. "Mom doesn't like it!?"

(First I'd ever heard her say anything about it!) "No, she says it's too big for my arm."

"Nah--just makes you look all manly and masculine and stuff. Hey, bud, let me tell you something--if you promise not to tear it up, or lose it, or stuff like that, I will let you have that and it can be yours. Okay?"

"You're going to let me HAVE it!?"

"If you'll take care of it."

"Wow. Thanks, Dad!"

He admired it and then hopped out when the rest of his folks started arriving. All I could think about making the short drive back home is that he's all grown up now.

How did that happen?

Is there nothing he can't do!?

Man accused of fraud blames Karl Rove

By LARRY NEUMEISTER
The Associated Press

NEW YORK (AP) — Attorneys for a man accused of fraud say he was charged at the behest of presidential adviser Karl Rove in retaliation for a flood of spam e-mails sent to a campaign Web site. A federal prosecutor says the claim is "absurd."

Assistant U.S. Attorney David M. Siegal urged U.S. District Judge Laura Taylor Swain on Monday to reject arguments that Rove caused the criminal investigation that led to charges against Robert McAllister.

Siegal said lawyers for McAllister made the "patently absurd argument that the U.S. attorney's office in the Southern District is a shill for Karl Rove and has arrested and indicted their client in some sort of vindictive retaliation." [...]

Well, obviously, I question the timing.

The bad thing about this story? Not that some moron isn't being laughed out of court, but the fact that there is a sizable portion of people who consider themselves smart progressive free-thinking sorts who are nodding their heads and thinking, "Yeah, I bet the US Attorney's office in the Southern District IS a shill for Karl Rove."

And they're SERIOUS.

And I complain about when I drop something under the car...

Astronauts lose bolt during spacewalk

By MIKE SCHNEIDER
The Associated Press

CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. (AP) — Spacewalking astronauts worried they have may have gummed up a successful job connecting an addition to the international space station Tuesday when a bolt, spring and washer floated free.

Astronaut Joe Tanner was working with the bolt when it sprang loose, floated over the head of Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper and skittered across the 17 1/2-ton box-like truss that they were hooking up.

While the washer went out into space safely, Tanner worried the bolt and spring could get into the truss's wiring and tubing and causing problems. [...]

At least with my stuff, I can pretty much figure it's gonna fall DOWN.

Time to Switch, I Guess.

'God Bless America' tag available in state Oct. 2

Again with the car tags. I've ranted about this before, so you can skip it if you want.

Now, I love God and America and Alabama and cars, but Alabama has so many different types of car tags that it's gotten ridiculous. There are NASCAR plates, college plates, military plates, 25 different specialty tags, eight oxymoronic "generic specialty" tags, plates for the revenooers themselves, commercial vehicle plates, not to mention just the regular ones that are available.

Look, if you're going to do all that mess, just go all the way and give us a way to make our own license plates, sorta like the Post Office was going to do with stamps. It would certainly be attractive to people like me, who cannot STAND the way any of the license plates look. The "Stars Fell On Alabama" tags look terrible, as do most of them.

Again, I'm not a fan of the proliferation of tags, but the newly announced one isn't quite as bad, although to my eye, it's still a graphic mess. Or maybe I'm just an old fart. But I say give me something that looks like an inmate made it, not something painted by someone's grandma in craft class.

Ow.

Had my dental appointment yesterday afternoon. Got in the chair at around 2:30, didn't get out until 6:00.

I feel like I've been beat with an axe handle.

Good news is that she was able to crown the worst one without having to have a root canal or anything like that.

Bad news?

1) The other broken tooth is going to have to wait at least another two weeks for its crown, unless they have a cancellation before then.

2) I have a temporary crown right now that is useless to chew on.

3) Her assistant yesterday was greener than Kermit the Frog. I assume she had finished her schooling, but I could be mistaken about that. She was cute and sweet but utterly at a loss when it came to anticipating what the doc was going to ask her to do, or exactly how to handle all the necessary tooth-repairing doodads. It made the procedure last just that much longer.

4) Remember my "hard head"? That's what Doc Nancy said about my high resistance to dental anesthesia a couple of years ago. Well, I still have it, although I think the good doc forgot about that particular problem of mine. She must have given me at least six different shots--back of jaw, gums inside and out, upper jaw, and a couple of others that I think she gave me just to poke on me. She'd give me one, wait, grind, and have to stop and try to give me more. Eventually, my whole face felt numb up to the eyebrows, but that tooth had one spot on it that would not be calmed down. She finally got it ground down enough to get where she wanted to go with it, but it hurt like having a mouthful of Satan.

Anyway, this morning my jaw feels like I've been chewing on a bowling ball.

And the day after.

A couple of you asked the significance of the blank post yesterday. As I've mentioned in years past, I never quite know the best way to commemorate September 11. I had several graphical things lined up to try, but in the end, I figured in the case of this blog, absence would be more noticeable than anything else.

This place is full to overflow with my thoughts--a continuing stream of thoughts both serious and silly--about everything that crosses my path. At some point in there, the serious gets overwhelmed by the banal, and I just think there would have been few things I could have posted that would have added in any substantive way to what other people have done or said.

So for once, I just shut up.

But should you care what my thoughts are, they are simple.

No quarter.

The weekend calls.

And unfortunately, it usually calls collect. Oh well. It's only money.

::sigh::

Anywho, we must get the house clean by the end of the month because we've got the kids from church coming over, but I can tell already it won't get done until the day before. They might even pick some stuff up, but a day later I can almost promise you that there'll be even more stuff gotten down and strewn around. I might just start throwing it all out in the yard when I stumble over it.

But, there is housework to do, and laundry, and I probably need to cut grass, and a bunch of other stuff, and the game to watch, and an anniversary Monday that for the past five years I have yet to determine how best to commemorate.

We shall see, I suppose. All of you have a good weekend, and Lord willing we'll meet here again on the 11th.

Ewww.

You know, it's bad to have a blog, and to bring your digital cameral to work, and to have a broken tooth, and to have a mind that wanders.

All that to say...

HEY!! Who wants to see my broken tooth!?

If you don't want to see it, do not read the extended entry. If, on the other hand, you have an intense streak of the weird about you, go ahead and click.

How people can actually want to grow up and be dentists is beyond me.

Anyway, this whole thing has been very disconcerting, mainly because there hasn't really been any pain to speak of. Not when it broke, not when I accidentally get water or air on it, not when I bite normally. It does feel very uncomfortable when I accidentally get some food over on it, but that's only because I can feel it trying to wiggle under the bit of amalgam that's still in place.

Is it normal for it not to hurt? Or is it just not down far enough into the hurty part? Or is it just building up to something excruciating?

OR...am I just so stinkin' manly that I am oblivious to such piddly concerns?

Yeah, that's probably it.

Well, here it is.

Oh, sure--this past weekend I made my usual joke about carefully wrapping my white bucs in tissue paper and putting away my seersucker suit and straw boater for the year.

Despite not actually having such accoutrements, I still have some misbegotten sense of respect for the Labor Day to Easter sartorial calender that says when it's not safe to wear white shoes and flimsy suits. It's dumb, but you know, silly made-up etiquette rules are what separate us from the animals. Some people say it's tools, but animals occasionally use tool-like devices. You never see them worry about what to wear to a funeral.

Anyway, it's summer in the South for a long time, but it does end eventually. And it never fails that autumn finds a way to sneak in an early appearance to let me know it's headed up the road.

We had an afternoon downpour yesterday--quite welcome I might add, in that it settled the dust and washed away some of the city's tired funk. Rain's always welcome, but there are some summer days when it falls and it's so hot outside that the moisture in the air almost suffocates you. You get a sense of what that crab feels when he's one second into the boiling pot of water and Old Bay.

I walked out to the parking deck last evening as the flood poured down, and as I got near the top of the ramp where the car was parked, I felt it.

A breeze.

A big gust of air blowing through the open sides of the deck, enough to move the litter into little moving windrows. And the breeze was...cool.

Not cold, obviously. But still, not one of those breezes that only feels cool because the air's moving. It was the air of leaves turning colors and wood smoke and the sound of the band playing at the stadium.

It was fall.

Fun With Referrer Logs!

Well, I get all kinds, don't I?

Several hours ago had a Down Underer who was looking for weevil and bob pie.

Those wacky Australians. Everyone knows weevils go in cookies, not pie!

This one had me stumped, as well as Google, and so I got to thinking maybe they were looking for some sort of liquored-up dessert of some sort, so I looked for some 'weave and bob pie', which also didn't really work, and some 'bob and weave pie', which didn't work, before finally hitting on the idea that someone out there had come up with a variation on the Tipsy Cake.

Sure enough, our good friends at Crisco actually have a recipe for Tipsy Pie! Now, they seem to be having server issues right now, so this recipe is taken from the Google cache of the site.

TIPSY PIE
Makes One 9-inch Pie
8 Servings

Crust

9 -inch Classic CRISCO Double Crust

Filling

1/4 cup butter or margarine
2 cans (29 ounces each) sliced cling in heavy syrup, drained peaches in heavy syrup, drained
1 -1/4 cups whipping cream
1 -1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup peach schnapps
1/4 cup bourbon
1/4 cup cornstarch

For crust, prepare (see Classic Crisco Crust recipe). Roll and press bottom crust into 9-inch pie plate. Do not bake. Heat oven to 375ºF.
For filling, melt butter in large saucepan. Add peaches, whipping cream, cinnamon and nutmeg. Cook and stir on medium-high heat until mixture comes to a boil. Add brown sugar. Reduce heat. Simmer 15 minutes. Add schnapps. Combine bourbon and cornstarch. Stir into peach mixture. Cook and stir until mixture comes to a boil and thickens. Lift peaches from sauce with slotted spoon, gently shaking off excess. Place in unbaked pie crust. Discard excess sauce. Moisten pastry edge with water.
Roll top crust same as bottom. Lift onto filled pie. Trim 1/2 inch beyond edge of pie plate. Fold top edge under bottom crust. Flute. Cut slits in top crust to allow steam to escape.
Bake at 375ºF for 35 to 40 minutes or until filling in center is bubbly and crust is golden brown. Serve barely warm or at room temperature. Refrigerate leftover pie.

Note: Pie can be baked at 325ºF in convection oven if desired.

Now--the obligatory disclaimer--I don't drink alcohol of any sort, but I'm not averse to using it for cooking flavor. Obviously, there is a problem of purchasing such flavoring agents--it can be very difficult to explain yourself in case you are seen leaving a booze establishment with clinking bundles of the Devil's elixir under your arm, so I advise religious people to find themselves a Episcopalian or Catholic friend to go buy it for them. (Sorry--that's an old joke.)

ANYWAY--I thought I had cleared up that little mystery, but thought I might better do just a tiny bit more research.

WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT that there is, in the Land of Bouncing Marsupials, a comic named Bob, who has a comic sidekick known as Weevil!? Maybe I just need to get out more, but I must confess never having known about the flashy Bob Downe, nor anything about his compatriot:

[...] For this show Bob is joined by Gabby Millgate, best know to international audiences as Muriel’s sister (“You’re terrible, Muriel!”) in the 1994 smash hit “Muriel’s Wedding”. Gabby plays several characters during the show including Bob’s ‘World Vision Sponsored Child’ Weevil, from a third world suburb - Yadonga (say it slowly), who is a cross between Eminem and Dennis the Menace. According to Bob “I expected to receive a lovely photo and he turned up on the doorstep.” Their Torvill and Dean inspired skating routine brought tears of laughter to audience eyes. [...]

Sadly, no mention is made of pie.

The Internet is truly an alarming place.

Le Roi Soleil

Something else that came up this morning?

Well, actually left over from last night--seems Boy needed a depiction of Louis XIV, par la grâce de Dieu roi de France et de Navarre for one of his classes. One assumes it was history class.

Anyway, while Rebecca was working on her stuff last night, I bumped her off the computer for a minute to print out a picture of the grand poncing monarch--

--after Boy had gone on to bed. He woke up this morning and first thing wanted to know where his all-important picture was. Handed it to him and he seemed satisfied. Then I had a sudden fear--what if I'd put in the wrong combination of Roman numerals and gotten a picture of the wrong Louis!? Louis the Ex Vee Eye, instead of Louis the Ex Eye Vee?!

Checked real quick, and thank goodness, right one. He continued to get dressed and came walking by before going downstairs so we could leave (or I could let the cat out), where I caught him.

"Uh, hey, Buddy--we need to work on that hair for a minute."

"But Dad I DID comb it!"

Yes, but it looked like he'd used a cake mixer.

I dragged him into the bathroom and wet a comb and started trying to plaster down his multiple cowlicks.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Bud?"

"Is there anything we have that I could use to dress up like Lewie the Fourteenth?"

"Son. We're getting ready to leave in about twenty minutes."

"But don't we have something?"

"Jonathan! Did you not see the picture of this guy!?"

"Do you ever REMEMBER seeing any of us wear ANYthing like that around here!? What do you need it for, anyway!?"

With a tremble in his voice, "We're supposed to bring stuff and dress up and bring props and stuff."

"And you're just now saying something about it NOW!?"

"MmmyesSIR!"

"No. We don't have anything like that, and the next time you know you're going to need a costume, you'd better tell someone before it's time to leave for SCHOOL!"

::sniff::sniff::

"Awww, cut that mess out!"

At least his hair got combed.

After the kitten retrieval debacle, I rounded Boy up so we could leave, and I noticed he had extra bag with him--"DAD!! Guess what?"

"Chicken butt!"

"Dad. Dad, I figured out something to wear! I'm going to wear my white soccer jersey under my other shirt, and wear my red soccer shorts, and my red soccer socks, and these shoes [motioning toward his faux Crocs], and Ashley had a scarf that I can use as my sash!"

Take that, Louis. Anyway, I'm sure my son the Sun King will look very regal at school today.

Or something.

KITTY!

In order to maintain my status as the World's Most Popular Blogger, once more I participate in the thing all the really cool kids like us participate in, Cat Blogging Friday, with Lightning, the World's Most Expensive Free Kitten!

Oh, this morning he was on a tear--I managed to get one picture of him before he ran himself up the water oak. Here he is not eating the food provided for him in his snazzy dish, but rather scrounging for the bits that I washed out of his cage last night that stuck to the patio.

Silly kitten. Anyway, after this shot he scooted out to the back and went straight up the tree, and resisted all attempts to get him down. More about that later. IN THE INTERIM, I figured I'd show you the rest of the back yard, specifically the hateful volleyball net.

Ta-dah.

"Details!" you say?

Well, here is the most robust string peg you're likely to see--

--and here is the mess of confusion up at the top of the pole that caused such consternation on my part. Doesn't really look like that much now.

Anyway, I got through taking pictures and the cat was STILL up the tree, happy as a clam. Except clams don't usually climb trees, so I guess he was happy as a lark. But a lark with four legs and fur.

SO, I called to him in my special cat language which did not work, so I tried the universal language of food. I got his bucket of chow from in the house and took it over to the tree and shook it a bit with an enticing and delicious shake.

He then climbed higher and meowed.

Stupid kitten.

I tried several other things, briefly considered breaking out the 12-gauge, and then decided one more time to try the shaken food route. Filled up his little feeder dish this time and took it out to the base of the tree and gently shook it. By this time, he'd climbed down a couple of branches lower, but suddenly his attention was caught by an unwary bird that alighted over on another branch.

::sigh::

Well, it's time to go to work. My solution? Leave the stinking thing up the tree and go to work, because he's smart enough to find his cage and stick around, because he's a cat.

I walked back inside and told Catherine that I had to leave and that Lightning was still outside and if he came back to the house before she and Mommy left to please put him back in his cage.

She had a look of terror on her face--"Don't worry--I'm going to go upstairs and tell Mom so she won't be mad at you for it."

Seems that last week Catherine was playing with him one morning and he went up the pine tree and Reba and she were alone there trying to get him to come down and it took forever and Catherine was almost late for school and Mom issued an edict that the cat was not to be gotten out in the mornings before school to keep such an event from happening again.

So she was scared that Mommy was going to be mad at her. No, don't worry.

And Mommy certainly can't get mad at Daddy, because let's face it, it's just a cat, and it will come down, and in all likelihood, it will go right back to the patio since that's where he lives. He's a cat.

ANYway, up the stairs I go, looking at my watch and seeing that it is TIME TO LEAVE and I got to the bedroom and saw Rebecca was still sprawled all over our floor, completing her social studies project on the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and the companion volume, The Seven Wonders of the United States. Reba was getting a blouse out of the closet, and I told her, "Hey, I'm fixing to leave. I'll take Jonathan on, but Lightning is up a tree back there, but he'll come down, and even if he doesn't, I figure--"

"You can NOT leave him outside all day."

"Look, I can do whatever I want to! He's a CAT, he WILL come down when he gets hungry, and he WILL come back up to the house and hang around here because that's where the FOOD is. He'll be FINE--he's got claws and stuff, and hey, even if he DOES run away, how stinkin' far can he go!?"

Okay, see--that's what we call my Internal Monologue. It is very valuable to have, because it keeps me from waking up dead in a pool of my own blood as my lovely wife stands over me with a .45.

External monologue?

"--I figure I would go get him down before I leave."

::sigh::

Stupid expensive kitten. I'm gonna be SO late today. Well, that'll teach me to let him out in the mornings without a rope and anchor around him. Stupid moron cat owner. I got to the back door, opened it, and HEY! KITTY!! He'd climbed down and decided to come investigate all this food I'd been rattling around. I scooped him up and put him in his cage and came back inside and smugly walked back inside and called upstairs that he was safe in his cage and I was taking Boy on to school, as if it was no big deal to get him in his cage by just walking out the door.

Whew.

That was a close one.

Running late, cat up a tree, and an internal monologue bursting to get out and get me hurt.

But hey, things work out.

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN!

Possumblog Sports Center opens its doors once again to bring you the finest in Auburn Tiger football coverage!*

As shouts of “War Eagle!” roll across the Plains, the Tigers--refreshed from a 40-14 scrap with some team from out West--will travel to the barren desolation of Starkville this weekend to contest with the ugly slobbering Bulldogs of Mississippi State.

No, it’s not enough that the handsome and sleek Tigers must play the OTHER Bulldogs from over in Athens, Georgia, we’re also forced to deal with this bunch as well.

Well, fine then.

At least they ARE an SEC school--even the worst SEC team is still a powerhouse compared to just about any other team in the country.**

Auburn’s performance this past weekend against Washington State does give one pause, however, in that although the score seems lopsided, it must be remembered that WSU managed to score two touchdowns against Auburn, and further, Auburn had to kick FOUR field goals.

WashState’s lack of depth eventually caught up with them, but if Auburn’s offensive line is not able to help punch home scores within the 20, and the defense is not able to adequately stop even a weak offense from out-juking it, Saturday’s contest with Miss. St. is going to turn out to be a very long one indeed. Bright spots abounded, however--especially when considering the Tigers still seem to be quite sack-hungry this year, witnessed by downing Wash. State’s QB four times.

Although the ‘Dogs lost to Steve Spurrier’s*** Gamecocks this past weekend, the score was a very tight 15-0, due in large part to a heavily-seniored and experienced defensive line. Auburn will have to open things up and start flinging the ball some, if nothing else than to keep the Bulldog secondary loose enough for speedy-legged Kenny Irons to get involved. Although Auburn’s run game is solid, Mississippi State has the ability to shut it down tighter than hoop cheese if it concentrates on Irons. Offensively, the Bulldogs do have one terrible detriment in that they have lost their starting quarterback for the season, which is going to make it very difficult for them to get anywhere against the Tigers--if said Tigers bring their best game with them.

Special teams play by the Tigers was a bit spotty last week, although big congrats to John Vaughn’s work in toeing home 12 points, including a personal best 52 yarder.

Keep that leg warm, son.

“BUT, But what about…well, you know?”

Well friends and fellow Plainsmen, I must confess that in the one area most important to the success or failure of a football program, the Maroon and White folks have us beat hands down.

Separate pages for each of the cheer squads--varsity, junior varsity, and the abdominally-gifted pom squad--and to top THAT off, each group actually has individual pictures of everyone! And there's a photo album that doesn’t require Flash! AND ACTUALLY HAS NEW PICTURES IN IT!

Why can’t Auburn have a setup like this? Why did we have to force ourselves into the crappy CSTV.com template so many other schools use?

It’s just embarrassing is what it is.

LUCKILY, embarrassment can create a hunger and a drive for vindication and respect, so possibly this upstaging of us by Coach Croom’s upstarts will cause the Tigers to inflict all sorts of hard knocks and touchdowns upon their foes.

WHICH LEADS US INEVITABLY to the second-most anticipated feature each week, The Prediction of Final Score! In the past, as you know, we have employed a wide variety of methods to insure that you have the most accurate score predictions possible, including electronic computing devices; attractive, yet fiery-tempered, redheaded sports statisticians; celebrity prognosticators; trained poultry; Chet the E-Mail Boy; badgers; the Online Magic 8-Ball; and a variety of voices in my head. We strive to continue to bring you this exciting feature, and hope that it continues to improve in accuracy and…and…oh, whatever.

My prediction for the final score….




AUBURN 30 -- MISSISSIPPI STATE 6

The contest will be conducted at Davis Wade Stadium, with the kickoff on Scott Field scheduled for 11:30 a.m. Central Time. Live television coverage provided by the craptacular Lincoln Financial Sports Network†.

(*When compared to Auburn Tiger football coverage in Pravda.)
(**Unless the SEC team has the initials of MSU.)
(***Satan)
(† Successor to the equally craptacular Jefferson Pilot Sports Network, Birmingham affiliate WTTO 21.)

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE!

That’s right, it’s time to take our eyes off of the grinding viciousness of football and celebrate once again the accomplishments of the POSSUMBLOG STUDENT ATHLETE OF THE WEEK!

This week’s lucky PSAotW honoree is none other than a member of the 2006 NCAA National Championship Women’s Swimming and Diving Team, criminology and business major Adrienne Binder.

A 21-year-old native of Santa Barbara, California, this 6’-0” tall senior competes in distance freestyle events and is a Ten-Time All-American, an SEC Record Holder in the 1650m Freestyle, a 2003 World University Games Silver Medalist, a 2001 Goodwill Games Bronze Medalist in the 800m Freestyle, a CSCAA Academic All-American, and a member of the SEC Academic Honor Roll. In addition to those honors, Miss Binder was named the SEC Women’s Swimmer of the Week in January, and was named the United States Sports Academy's Alabama Athlete of the Month for July.

A little-known fact is that she is on the swim team in order to stay near water, because she’s so incredibly hot she could catch on fire.

A heartfelt thank you to the good people of New Hampshire

Gosh--everyone is being so helpful in taking some of the burden off of us--it's like there's some kind of benevolent movement underway to share some of the stupidity burden. So, thanks everyone, and especially to our good buddy Chuck from Nashua, NH for his efforts--Man's gun fires in Wal-Mart bathroom

HUDSON, N.H. (AP) — A Nashua man faces a felony reckless conduct charge after his gun discharged in a Wal-Mart bathroom, striking the ceiling and scaring an employee in the next stall.

Charles Masterson, 36, said he pointed his gun toward the ceiling because he had been taught that was the safest thing to do when it wasn't being used.

Uhh, well, no, numb-nuts. When it's not being used, it goes in what we call a "holster." But more about safety later...

The precaution backfired when the gun discharged Tuesday night while Masterson was in the bathroom.

Police charged him for putting the teenage employee in danger. Masterson's 13-year-old son also was in the bathroom.

Masterson was jailed overnight, but released on personal recognizance Wednesday after his arraignment in Nashua District Court.

Masterson said he had been carrying the Glock 9mm pistol in his waistband. [...]

Well, we learn two things here. First, if you're going to carry a weapon, please don't just stick it in your pants. And second, this was not just a matter of a weapon misfiring. Glocks are made so that it can only fire when it is being held firmly and the trigger is being squeezed. Although they are mechanical devices and all mechanical devices can fail, the design of the mechanism is such that it is physically impossible for the firing pin to contact the cartridge primer UNLESS the weapon was deliberately fired. Even if he was stupid enough to carry the thing in his pants, if it fell, it wouldn't fire. Even if he held it up at the ceiling to be safe, it wouldn't fire as long as he just held it there. It fired because he fired it, and that's all there is to it.

He is what we call "an idjit."

[Employee Adam] Carew told police Masterson walked out of his stall, put the gun in his pants and just walked right out of the bathroom like nothing happened.

Wal-Mart employees called police.

Well, I guess you never know--maybe the guy has a ceiling full of holes above his chamber pot at home...

UPDATE: Oooh--a companion story! Wal-Mart to tailor stores to customers Gosh, I hope this means Kevlar ceiling tiles!

Speaking of editors...

Jimbo Smith sends along this one from the Las Vegas Sun: Harvard Dead Defends Khatami Invitation

Hard to beat an endorsement from a zombie.

I figure they probably look--

--just like Iran's President. Big Arm Woman enthralls us with tales of tiny tantrums by the tenured.

[...] One would think that people who have to communicate for a living might understand the importance of reasonable discourse. [...]

In other words,

--voting their consciences might lose them an election—and when the choice comes down to a vote between conscience and appearance, the people Sullivan wishes us all to vote for will of course choose appearance and sacrifice principle.

Talk about fathomless cynicism.

But, it's such a pure fathomless cynicism.

A heartfelt thank you to the good people of Oregon.

For taking a little bit of the "Perpetuating the Stereotype" heat off of us Southerners with episodes such as the one reported here: Cops: Chicken dies, wife shoots husband

CHESHIRE, Ore. - A woman shot her husband in the back after he killed her pet chicken, the Lane County sheriff's deputies said. Deputies said they were sure that Mary Gray, 58, intended to shoot her husband, Stephen Gray, 43. They weren't certain if the husband meant to fire at the chicken.

"We don't know if it was an accident or if it was on purpose," Sgt. Clint Riley said. "It depends who you ask."

The chicken was not available for comment.

Riley said the couple had been drinking for much of Monday --

Golly, what are the odds of THAT!?

-- while they did yard work at their rented home in the town northwest of Eugene, and they began arguing after Stephen Gray shot the chicken with a .44-caliber handgun.

Deputies said he was then hit with a shot from a .22-caliber rifle, and is recovering. Mary Gray was arraigned Tuesday on an assault charge.

Revenge may well be a dish best served cold, but sometimes it's best just to go ahead and have chicken instead.

Can you hear me now?

Cell phones found inside four prisoners

I can figure out how they managed to get them in there, but I have to think that actually dialing a number is going to be even harder to do.

MANBEARPIG!

Over at Dr. Joyner's place, a new caption contest with a host of entries that are full of rich, creamy, fattening snark.

I haven't entered one of James' contests in a long time (after winning several of them back in the olden days), mainly because he's got so much traffic now by the time I click over there, there's already a big wad of comments. And in this case in particular, they're a bunch that are just a hoot. My favorite, aside from the ManBearPig reference, is the one about the Native American Association of Tobacco Shop Operators.

It's Mr. Language Pedant!

Okay, with this one we have to start out with a disclaimer--yes, I KNOW I'm the last person who should be taking others to task for homophonic abuse, but this one jumped out at me like a flag-stealing squirrel. So to speak.

Anyway, this article--Cemetery's flags found in squirrel nest--details the great sleuthing work by a cemetery groundskeeper who figured out who was stealing the small American flags from graves. Turns out it wasn't snot-nosed kids, but Varmint Cong. Okay, fine. But here is what caught my eye:

[...] "I was mowing, looked up out into the distance, and something caught my eye," said Dave Ender, a groundskeeper employed by the Eau Claire Parks and Recreation Department.

He drove his riding lawnmower to a nearby street intersection and looked up a tree.

"Low and behold, I found the missing flags," Ender said. [...]

::sigh::

Although we now know it only if prefixed by the capital letter J, the word we're actually looking for here is "LO and behold." Just a silly irksome thing, right up there with people who write "toe TOW the line," or "tough roe to hoe."

Thank goodness the news media have editors to catch stuff like this. (I wish I had one to catch formatting errors.)

UPDATE: Thankfully, I DO have Steevil, who noticed that I got MYSELF in trouble with toe/tow. I keep reading "tow the line" but the reference is supposed to be everyone standing straight in a line, with their toes all aligned on a line marked on the ground, the allusion meant to convey bringing order and discipline to a situation. BUT I STILL MANAGED TO MESS UP the spelling when I did it. Silly non-edited blogger! A more thorough telling of the usage can be found here.

Here on the ranch...

...we have many different chores to perform--eating beans, roping dogies, building campfires, killing rustlers, and most important of all, doing the mailout for next week's meeting!

So please bear with me as I fold and stuff, and I'll be back to my other chores here directly.

An odd confluence...

...of Rhode Island, wolf hybrids, higher education, stupid people, and Alabama, via the ever-vigilant NASA scientist Steevil.

Wolf hybrids -- illegal in state -- seized from URI president's home

BY KATIE MULVANEY
Journal Staff Writer

SOUTH KINGSTOWN -- Cotton and Gabe, two hybrid wolves, are in the care of the South Kingstown pound after being taken from the property of University of Rhode Island President Robert L. Carothers.

The wolf hybrids belonged to Carothers' 19-year-old son Matthew, who recently retrieved them from Alabama, said Dr. Howard Troob, a veterinarian who cared for the animals. A third, Nikita, was euthanized due to heartworm disease.

South Kingstown Animal Control Officer Robert Wilson learned that wolf dogs might be in the area from his Richmond counterpart, Ann Fisher. He found two chained in a small grove of trees off Carothers' front yard at 90 Meadow Tree Farm Rd. on Aug. 9. They howled, rather than barked, upon his approach. A third was loose in Richmond and Matthew was trying to capture it with the help of the police, according to a police report.

State Department of Environmental Management officers seized the animals on Aug. 11 because it is illegal to keep wolf hybrids in Rhode Island without a permit available only to veterinarians and wildlife handlers, reports show. The hybrids are considered wild animals.

At the request of URI's vice president of administration Robert Weygand, who was watching Carothers' house while he was away on vacation, Troob, a URI alum, agreed to take custody of the animals from the DEM and shelter them at the Washington County Veterinary Hospital.

"These dogs came out of the woods in Alabama. I really shouldn't have had them," Troob said. His desire, he said, was to save them from being destroyed.

Uh, Sparky? There are better ways of doing that.

Matthew had gained the animals' absolute trust by camping with them in the woods for three days before bringing them north, he said. One had escaped on the trip.

Oh, sure. They absolutely trusted him. And knew that if times got hard they could always eat him.

"The kid is young and spirited," said Troob.

Or what we call around here, "young and dumb."

Troob inoculated the hybrids and segregated them from the other animals, he said. Though Matthew said the animals had been vaccinated, he could not produce the paperwork, he said. Despite strict quarantine warnings about limited contact with people or animals, his staff had managed to give one of the females a bath, he said.

Seems as though Rhode Islanders have different definitions of both "absolute" AND "strict."

On Aug. 15, Weygand signed euthanasia forms on behalf of Carothers to have the animals put down, police reports show. Nikita, whose age was estimated at 4 to 5, was euthanized on Aug. 22 because she had heartworm disease and due to limited space at possible hybrid sanctuaries, Troob said.

The wolf dogs were transferred to the local pound that same day after Matthew attempted to rescue them from the hospital, Troob said.

"I didn't want to have to deal with that," Troob said.

I have a feeling I know someone else who'd be better off in quarantine.

The two hybrids are now awaiting transfer within the week to the Dancing Brooke Lodge, a sanctuary for wolf dogs in Lempster, N.H.

Pound manager AnnMarie Biegner said the town had kept the situation quiet because they didn't want people stopping by to stare at the animals. A double enclosure was built around their kennels to keep visitors away and quarantine signs were plastered on their cages.

Five-year-old Gabe paced his kennel, staring out intently from his concrete quarters and seeming wildly out of place with the striking markings of a wolf. Cotton, 1, appeared easily spooked and jittery in the neighboring kennel. Pure white with delicate features, she is prone to nervous bouts of diarrhea, Biegner said.

Say--I wonder if either of them would like to be a network news anchor!?

Anyway, I'm sure both of them are probably thinking to themselves, "Sheesh--he gained our absolute trust in those three days of camping, and NOW look at us. Should have eaten him first, and then allowed him to gain our trust."

"I don't see them as a threat, they're not aggressive. They'd just rather be left alone," she said. Matthew, who could not be reached for comment, is not allowed to visit them, she said.

CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S THE VICTIM HERE!?

Robert Carothers explained that his son didn't realize that hybrid wolves were restricted in Rhode Island. He recently moved from Florida where they are legal, he said.

"He's certainly very fond of them," he said. The youngest of three, Matthew will start classes at the Community College of Rhode Island today.

No doubt where he will attempt to gain the absolute trust of co-eds by camping with them for three days.

Carothers said he was not at home when the hybrids were there.

"I feel bad for him but that's the reality he faces," he said.

Police Chief Vincent Vespia, who has worked closely with state veterinarian Dr. Christopher Hannafin, said he did not expect to press charges.

"Our concern now is for the safety of the animals and the safety of the public," Vespia said.

One wonders then why the state passed a law making them illegal to own, if they aren't that gung-ho about actually prosecuting anyone.

Raising hybrids is legal in some states, particularly in the South, said Anna Jeanne Russell, of Dancing Brooke. Cotton and Gabe will join 40 other dogs at the 48-acre sanctuary, she said.

Wolf dogs, she said, are powerful, smart animals who are widely misunderstood.

People "think you can keep them like a dog and they're not dogs," she said, adding that the animals need plenty of space to roam.

Not to be so picky, but it would seem that 1.2 acres per wolf-dog isn't really a whole lot of space to roam. But it's probably better than chained up in the university president's yard.

[Expletive]

I was just now sitting here, minding my own business, eating my lunch, when I bit down on a piece of chicken and felt something.

Something bad.

Sort of a pop, or snap.

I hoped it was just a piece of extra hard crust giving way. It turned out to be a piece of extra hard crust, which caused my TOOTH to give way. Whole inside part of #20, just snapped off and wallowed around in my mouth before I found it.

People, I am falling apart.

To make matters worse, my regular dentist can't see me until MONDAY. I'm going to try to wait, but I don't really think I'll be able to. No pain right now, but then again, I'm not using it for anything.

::sigh::

Jealous?

Me? Never!

I am, however, a master of prevarication.

Well, it really is nice of him...

Dan Rather gives alma mater $2 million

...but you know everyone is going to wonder why the money looks like it was produced on a computer using Times New Roman font.

Rejoice, Culture Lovers!

New Southern Culture Encyclopedia first volumes coming soon

OXFORD, Miss. (AP) — What do NASCAR, Vidalia onions and beauty parlors have in common?

They're all rooted in the South and documented in The New Encyclopedia of Southern Culture.

The encyclopedia is a published by the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi.

Four of its planned 24 volumes are to be released September 18th.

Officials say the New Encyclopedia explores the region's metamorphosis over the past 17 years and updates the encyclopedia's inaugural issue published in 1989. [...]

AND it comes with a pack of crayons so you can color in the pictures yourself!!

So Much To Talk About...

...So Little Motivation!

THUS, as is our habit when things slow down, it's time to reach out to YOU, the finest reading audience in the entire world, and see if you have any questions of an important, or unimportant nature, that you wish could be answered.

Obviously, I am not qualified to answer these, so we have brought in our resident eminent scholar*, and offer you an opportunity to Ask Dr. Possum!

If you have an inquiry regarding medicine, philosophy, art, NASCAR, religion (but I repeat myself), or any other topic, please feel free to jot down your question in the comments below, and Dr. Possum will provide you with a thoroughly researched and timely answer. Maybe.

IN any event, please feel free to fire away.

*Disclaimer: Dr. Possum does not actually have a doctorate degree, but he is smarter than approximately 23% of all doctorate-holders, and a better marksman than 98% of them. The answers given in response to questions are not guaranteed to be correct, although they could be.

Weekend at Bernie's?

Dead body travels 1,000 miles on Amtrak

CHICAGO (AP) — An Amtrak passenger traveling with her ailing father waited nearly 23 hours and about 1,000 miles to tell authorities he had died so she could avoid the cost of shipping the body home, police said. [...]

You know, if you can't afford to ship papa home, just bury him where he dies and save yourself a bit of trouble. Save you up some money, and when you have enough, dig him up and THEN send him to be buried where you wanted him.

Especially during this time, because you know there are insensitive people who will take any opportunity to work in a Snakes on a Plane reference, even though Stiffs on a Train isn't the least bit funny.

Labor Day!

In which I, Moron of the House, do sally forth to buy more things.

As you note, no mention is made of the volleyball net in the preceeding entries, because I never got to a point of purchase until Monday, after hearing all weekend how much everyone wanted a net.

OKAY!

So, off to Academy, and I took Catherine with me to help pick it out. She being the most vocal about its necessity. Looked in all the ball racks--soccer, baseball, basketball, football, softball, ballball, even volleyball. No nets. What the?

Had to ask a salesman--"Oh, those are over in camping equipment."

Oh, but of COURSE! Nothing like sleeping out under the twinkling stars wrapped in a volleyball net. So, over to the camping stuff, and sure enough, all sorts of badminton/paddle/tether junk, and volleyball nets. Let's see, they had the Good, the Better, and the You're NOT Going to Believe What Some People Are Crazy Enough To Buy.

Obviously, although I am a moron, I am not crazy--or at least crazy enough to pay THAT much for something that will be outside, so I got the cheapo $17 version. AND it came with a BALL! No way to get anything cheaper without a ball, so now we would just be equipped with two balls.


AND SO ANYWAY, we got that and headed home, where I took it out of its handy carrying pouch. Net. Plastic poles. String of unfathomable complexity. Plastic ball. Whew--instructions.

Which turned out more to be disinstructions. Never have I been so completely baffled by a set of printed words. Maybe I just needed to go outside and see if I could figure it out one I had everything spread out.

First, the poles have to go down into the ground. The poles are lightweight plastic. The ground is made of ground things. All of them a good deal harder than plastic. Thus requiring the first major effort of the morning, digging some holes.

Now, I might not have much, but I got yard tools. Including a pick. An old-timey one, too. Belonged to my folks, who probably got it from a roving band of '49ers. Big heavy thing, but PERFECT for spiking two holes in the ground for the little flimsy plastic poles. Get pick out of Not A Shed, and carefully swing it back and down and make myself a nice square hole. I tried to make it a bit deeper by striking it again, but I only succeeded in making three additional holes adjacent to the first. Fine.

Picked one of the holes, tapped the first pole segment down into the ground. Clipped in the second, and then topped it off with the last segment. That I put on backwards. And had to fix.

Now then, the net.

Ever put up a tent? All those lines and such, and they have to be taut? It can be sorta hard. But on a scale of 1-100, with "tent-putting-up" being about a 50, and building a fast breeder nuclear reactor as 100, the volleyball net turned out to be something like a 116. I don't know why, but there were all sorts of rubber hooks and loops and blidgets and thumsers and libityfloos to make the net tight and the poles relatively plumb. And by this time the sun was hot, and I was already in a Not Good Mood, and the instructions were as inscrutible as Chairman Mao's tombstone, and I needed my hammer out of the garage which resulted in yet more time spent uselessly plundering for it.

BUT, I managed to get the hateful cords and pegs and lines and tension done!

Now on to the OTHER side. Same deal, pick hole, tap in bottom section (lightly--it's plastic you know!) middle section, top section. Now, string the net over into the slot and down with the cord A over the hook 7 while holding sller vleihs under buil norcking less that five inches, without holding while less than moving cord. Tapped in the first peg, then the second peg holding the pole, and the final peg and D'OH!!

Did I mention the little holdy pegs were plastic? Looked a bit like tiny tent stakes. Except of soft plastic. I had just tapped one in, and it apparently hit a rock and the whole thing split down the middle and squished itself sideways into unpeggability.

::sigh::

I knew I probably had something in the garage I could use to fix it, and, in fact, actually looked around a bit. But I was overcome with a fit of pique, so I figured it would be best for all concerned were I to take my leave for a few minutes and go down the hill to the hardware store. Found a big screw eye that would be quite serviceable for the intended use.

Home, and tapped that thing down in the ground with extreme prejudice, did some final adjustments to the strings so that the poles were equally misshappen, and TIME FOR FAMILY VOLLEYBALL FUN!!

We got everyone out and they oohed and aahed and we began to play a few plays. And then the ball (the one purchased Thursday) went over Reba's head and rolled right up to the neighbor's big lummox of a dog, who slobbered all over it.

Blech.

We played some more and actually kept score, and no, I resisted the urge to win at all costs. But something was wrong--the ball was not holding air.

::sigh::

I don't know if it was the rose bush, or the pear tree, or a stick on the ground, but it had a leak, and no amount of pumping would keep it inflated for more than a round or two of serves.

Drat.

Well, at least we DID have the cheap vinyl ball that came with the net, we could use that! We played and played and played for several hours--long enough for Oldest to throw a temper tantrum and storm off, and then for a good long time after that. And then, someone got all full of him- or herself. No, not me. But one of the kids (I think it was Rebecca, but I don't know) absent-mindedly kicked the ball, hard, and it slammed home like a rock into the base of the big running rose bush in the planter by the kitchen. THUNK!

I could almost hear it exhaling its last breath from where I was standing. Big tears welled up in Catherine's eyes--NO MORE BALLS!

Yes, you do guess correctly.

Back down to Winn-Dixie, where this story started, to get aNOTHER volleyball.

They promise to be much more careful this time. I find myself unwilling to put that much trust in their ability to make good on this pledge, for some reason.

Anyway, that was the weekend.

Culinary Wonders!

From the Republic of Texas, something ELSE fried.

No mention of sticks, however.

(H/T Dr. Smith!)

More weekend?

Sure.

Sunday was up early for church, and then church itself, and then a lunch there at the building, and then home for a while, where I dozed fitfully on the couch while the kids watched a movie, then back up to the building for a meeting, then evening worship, which I dozed even MORE fitfully through, because it's considered bad form to snore in church, so I had to be VERY fitful to stay awake.

Left the older two girls there for them to go off for the teen devotional after church, we took ourselves on home, ate a bite of supper, then I went BACK to get the girls. Yes, Oldest can drive. No, not after dark on lonely country roads with a passenger, she doesn't. No use tempting fate. So, off with me, then back home again, and FINALLY a chance to get into bed. After first reading the paper, which depressed me to no end.

It used to be that the Birmingham News was equally repugnant to both liberals and conservatives and people who could read above a 6th grade level, but here lately with their move to their new fancy home and their decision to be boldly less fake in their commitment to "objectivity," it's really gone far beyond itself in stinking.

You know--there used to be the way a paper would do a story, say, on the economy. If it was good news, they'd always trot out someone to say it might not be as good as we think. No matter what, no matter how good or bad, it was always exactly offset with a comment from someone on the opposite side. In journalist's eyes, that was called "balance," or "two sides to every story," but as I've said before, it's a false balance.

It's akin to such things as those slow-motion movies you see, where a bowling ball and a feather fall together inside of a vacuum. However, outside the vacuum chamber, some things are unequal, and some things are actually deserving of scorn without the admixture of equivocation. Not all news happens in a vacuum, and in the real world, bowling balls hit the ground before the feather, and they hurt a darn sight more if they land on your foot. It's as if we can't just can't come out and declare Iran's president an anti-everything lunatic, without also noting he's a natty dresser and is a college professor.

Anyway, that was the old way. Now? Well, it seems that if there's any news, it must be seen from a prism of "How Could The Bush Administration Let This Happen?" So not only do we have to tut-tut and note that Ahmadinejad has said some nasty things (not that he really meant them the way they sounded--so, you know, lighten up a bit, Jewish People), BUT we also must note he sees George Bush as a terrorist, and that George Bush NEVER taught college, and everyone KNOWS how unsophisticated he is, that it's no wonder he's messed everything up and gotten us in this mess.

EVERY story in the paper--or so it seems--is nothing more than commentary, or wishful thinking for disaster. The front page news this weekend was not how precipitously gas prices have (and will continue) to fall, but how worried every Alabamian is about, well, about rising gas prices, and everything else. WORRY! WOE! CALAMITIES!! Every opinion given, even if it can be shown to have no basis in fact, is given full credence, and no effort is made to supply anything like factual information. The common tales of woe are accepted by the editors as a sign of Deep Despair, and Distrust, and Possible Democratic Resurgence (we hope!!), and the reader is intended to accept it without question, presumably because it's written in a newspaper.

Even in things intended to be fluff, we wind up get things like this story, which glibly tosses off one of the most exhaustively debunked bits of urban folklore as fact, and uses it in a not-so-veiled slap at American lack of cultural senstitivity:

[...] Rex Parker, who has worked in product development for Nissan, Mazda and Hyundai, and served as vice president of AutoPacific, an industry consultant based in Los Angeles, said automakers need input from locals in other countries on everything from a vehicle's name to preferred colors and options.

"You can't look this stuff up in the dictionary," he said.

If the automaker's message is somehow lost in translation, it could be embarrassing, he said. Consider General Motors' well known gaffe with the Chevrolet Nova. The automaker in the 1970s introduced the vehicle in Mexico, even though the name in Spanish meant "It doesn't go." [...]

Consider this. No. That's wrong. And it never has been right. This article from Snopes.com was online in 1999, and it thoroughly, factually, logically takes apart the myth and shows that it just doesn't make any sense at all.

1999. That's a long time for basic research information to be out there in the ether, so it's not like it's something that just turned up yesterday. Maybe the last paragraph of the Snopes article says it best:

[...] The Chevy Nova legend lives on in countless marketing textbooks, is repeated in numerous business seminars, and is a staple of newspaper and magazine columnists who need a pithy example of human folly. Perhaps someday this apocryphal tale will become what it should be: an illustration of how easily even "experts" can sometimes fall victim to the very same dangers they warn us about.

It's just one article, in one backwater newspaper, but it's sadly indicative of a greater problem facing news organizations, which seem determined to screw themselves into the deepest pit of irrelevancy possibly.

Papers used to at least pay lip service to the idea of garnering facts and truth, but we seem to have run slap into the consequences of a generation of teaching that there is no such thing as absolute truth, and everyone's side of the story is of equal worth. The child and the child molester become merely opposite sides of the same coin.

The press rightly values its freedom and as free people we should all be grateful for it. But our interests are not served by those who would fail us in their most fundamental obligation--to give us light that we might find our own way.

A gift from Steevil.

Mark Twain, architecture, primative monkey hindbrains, and a moron project all rolled up into one, with the stamp of a Real Author at the bottom.

Hard to top that.

Saturday

Up early, got dressed, and this time made sure Boy was dressed and ready to go before I went outside. "Which do you want, bud--front yard or back?"

You'd think I'd asked him if he preferred hanging or the gas chamber.

He finally made up his mind he'd work on the front, since it has no trees to go under and around. Which is fine by me, as long as he does something other than stay in his room all day.

Got out the now-cured Murray, loaded her up with gas, and got to work. Cut, cut, cut. Tell Boy that he won't pass out from simply cutting the grass. Lots of dust, which made things terrible for both of us. Took a while, but he got the front more or less done, more or less neatly. Not that I'm complaining--I decided long ago I'd rather have it short than to have all the mower tracks straight. Unless I'm the one doing it, and THEN they have to be precise, but I won't bother him with his ability to stay in line. Just cut it, little fellow.

He finally got done on his part, and I moved to the back. Cut cut cut. Finish. Cat and Rebecca bring out a big jug of ice water to me, and the volleyball and the kitten for themselves, and we sit down in the back by the pine tree while I cool off.

They bother the cat for a while, and he attacks the volleyball before scooting up the pine tree. Fearless feline--he explores every limb up to about 30 feet or so, going out to the far ends of each one before turning around. While he does that, the girls keep hitting the volleyball at my head.

Reba took the younger two kids to the grocery store, and the Second Great Task of the Afternoon fell to me--namely, hauling Rebecca around to various merchants and service providers to see if they would be willing to purchase advertising space in the middle school yearbook.

I can't stand asking people for money.

Oh, I could be a salesman if I wanted to be, but it is one thing I DO NOT want to be. Still, she had an assignment, so after I got my shower and we got together her paperwork, I figured I might as well try to help her as much as I could with my patented selling tips.

1) Show your client you're interested in his services or product.

First stop was the UPS Store to make copies of her contracts, so since we were already there, and had just given THEM some business, we asked the nappy bearded punk who was the cashier if they'd be interested in supporting the school. "Uhmm, you'd need to talk to the guy who owns the store, and he's, like, gone, because it's Saturday, and so he'll be here on Tuesday."

Fair enough. Sadly though, the thing we heard most often.

As for other examples of Tip #1, we went next door and ate lunch at the Mexican place. Good food, and a lot of it, but sorta pricish for lunch. No matter, she asked the co-proprietor if he'd like to purchase an ad, he said he'd have to talk it over with el jefe supremo.

Oh, well. On to the next tip.

2) Be friendly and courteous and speak distinctly--you are a reflection of your product, and people must know what you're selling.

As I mentioned this morning, Rebecca is very quiet. This is not good for someone doing cold calls. Especially ones that are only one step removed from telemarketing. It's hard to sell these because the whole idea is cockeyed--you're not really expecting ANY money to come back to you from these ads--it's basically a donation. (Which flies in the face of Tip #3--Believe in your product.)

So anyway, talking to everyone was hard for her, because she doesn't realize just how quiet she is. I'd help her along some, but that really wasn't the thing to do, but SOMEone needed to tell them they could call the number on the contract, and that we could leave the ad rates with them, and stuff such as that. At least she had a good attitude about it. She'd say, "I did that one all by myself," and I'd pick on her and tell her that I had done ALL the talking. She did pretty good, all things considered, though.

We wound up visiting at least twenty different places, and had about half who said they might be able to help. SO, even though we didn't get any commitments (that ol' "boss'll be back after Labor Day" story) it was still a pretty good afternoon, if for no other reason that we got to ride around town and play, without having any deadlines to meet or other siblings to mess with us.

Home, and help finish putting away groceries, supper, then to bed with us all.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah--I have no idea. You know, where I usually am.

So, Friday I picked up the kinder from Grandmom's and off to home we went to home. Got there, got unloaded, and the kids were outside in a flash to mess with their newest toy. Thursday when I had to make a stop at the grocery store, I had them with me and Catherine and Jonathan found a box full of balls.

"Daaaad-dy? Can we get a volleyball? 'Cause we're doing volleyball in PE. PLEEEEEEEEEZ?"

I am usually impervious to such beggings, even when offered by Catherine.

"No, y'all put that up."

"But we don't have a VOLLEYBALL."

Unassailable logic, that. "Look, put the ball back in the box and come on!" Did I mention that at the time I was on the phone with Reba, who was telling me stuff to get while I was there? Well, I was, so in this distracted state they CONTINUED to pester and molest the box full of volleyballs.

"Would y'all PUT that DOWN! NOW!"

"If we had a volleyball, we could play volleyball!"

::sigh::

Oh, good grief. It's just a volleyball. And short of duct-taping them to the floor, I don't think they were going to leave anything alone. So, in the first of many Bad Father moments to come, I did the exasperated-Andy-Griffith head shake where he just gives up and shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his eyes.

As you all know, this is usually followed by Barney shooting his pistol in the courthouse.

Anyway, that was Thursday, so Friday they got outside in the backyard and started trying to make holes in the side of the house. Or break the windows. Hard to tell.

I went out and told them in a firm and authoritative, but quiet and level voice (i.e., yelled) for them to quit trying to tear apart the house. "Yes, daddy."

They went back to their game of imaginary volleyball. "How do you tell if it's out or if you've gotten it over the net?"

Rebecca said, "well, we just kinda pretend, sorta."

And thus we learn just how much of a moron I am.

"Maybe we need a net."

"DADDY'S GONNA GET US A VOLLEYBALL NET! COOOOL!! WHEN, DAD!? TONIGHT!?"

::sigh::

Good thing I only have one bullet in my shirt pocket.

We agreed that I would further discuss the matter with their mother, and we'd think about it.

More about that, later.

Suppertime, eat, clean up, sit around.

Reba and I sat and talked a bit, and for some reason, all the other kids went on to to their stuff but Rebecca stayed behind and sat with us. It turned out to be a remarkable conversation.

She's the most mature of the bunch, and it's possible to have an actual conversation with her without the subject HAVING to be about her, so we talked about a boatload of things. One in particular, though, tickled me to no end. Somehow the subject got to treating people nice, and she said she always tries to, but sometimes people just get on her nerves. One in particular?

Well, this summer when she'd go over to help Reba at her work, the maintenance guy there picked at Rebecca endlessly, trying his best to get her to talk to him. Rebecca is VERY quiet around people she doesn't know, and really not that talkative around the ones she DOES know. But the one thing she can't stand is people TRYING to make her talk to them. She just clams up even more. So, this guy would try to make her talk and I think he must have gotten his feelings hurt when she would refuse to jabber back at him (yeah, I know--big deal). So, she didn't like being around him. AND TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, he tends to use language of a most colorful and salty sort, best I can tell something of a cross between the late Acidman and a drunken sailor on shore leave. Now he'd never talk to Rebecca that way, but she overheard him on numerous occasions holding forth in all of his profane glory, and THAT made her dislike being around him, too.

We tried to tell her that some people just don't know any better, and for her not to ever talk that way herself. She said not to worry (and I don't), and then she let loose with one of the best lines I have ever heard. I laughed and laughed--she has become a wit worthy of emulation. After telling us she wasn't ever going to talk like that, she said of the fellow in question:

"He's just got a mouth full of Satan!"

Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is saying something! After I quit laughing, I asked where she heard that, and she said she just made it up, and from the best I can tell from looking at the Google machine, she indeed has come up with an aphorism for the ages.

I bow before her skillfulness.

Comment Spam and Staff Meeting. UPDATE I II III!

Both of which conspired to slow down my recitation of all the events of the weekend past. Got here and found that I had about 40 spam comments that I had to go in and clear manually because for some reason they managed to bypass the thing that sends me an e-mail when I get a comment, so they stacked up like really pervy cordwood over the weekend. Had to get those undone, and THEN we had our dumb ol' staff meeting to go to.

BUT NOW! Time for the Weekend Recap. Which I still have to write. But before I do that, I have to go to the BANK! Tell you what, if it's not one thing, it another forty gajillion.

Anyway, I'll get that all squared away and then get back to this.

A preview? Never buy your kids a volleyball from the grocery store.

And from Steevil, try to teach your kids that famous historical figures are not interchangeable.

SO, back in a bit.

UPDATE 1:49 pm: I just noticed that the Target link I had up here is now not working properly. This is the what it should be. Well, almost what it should be.

For those who don't know what the joke was, Target has a line of USA-made "Presidential Action Figures," and Steevil had sent along a link to one purported to be Franklin Roosevelt. Except the action figure (i.e., 12 inch high doll) was dressed in knee breeches, a frock coat, and had a bald pate with long hair skirting around his ears. In other words, it was Benjamin Franklin. Who not only never had polio, but also never was President. And, was, in fact, never Franklin Roosevelt. Or Roosevelt Franklin from Sesame Street, either. (Update inside an update--Apparently they aren't exclusive to Target--here is an example of Ben--properly identified--from a place called the DC Giftshop, as well as a hale and hearty cane-bearing FDR from the same store.)

Jimmy Carter is indeed one of the action figures, but it does not say if he comes complete with a boat oar and a killer rabbit. He also looks shockingly like a Ken doll.

For some reason, President Reagan is Cher-ified. While all the other Presidents have their given and surnames, he is identified simply as "Reagan."

Eh. Go figure. I'm sure there'll be a lot of bloviation about this, but you have to wonder what kid would want one of these things.

UPDATE III: BILLY THE C ACTION FIGURE! Complete with Kung-fu Groping Action!

Hey! It's almost time to go!

A few things to catch up on here, and then a full three days of relaxation are headed my way. All of you have a great weekend, and come back on Tuesday and let's see what all went on.

Earlier The Shadows Begin to Lengthen...

... and a certain crispness fills the air.

A great desolation departs, and FOOTBALL SEASON BEGINS AGAIN!!

GOOD AFTERNOON, SPORTS FANS, and welcome once again to Possumblog Sports Center, coming to you with all of the most important news about the greatest sport ever devised by human beings, as played by the greatest university named Auburn in the entire universe!

As usual, the sidelines will be stalked by Jimmy Neil and Clew--

--bringing you their own brand of exciting and fragrant sports talk. [LATE BREAKING UPDATE, 4:20 pm: Jimmy Neil was doing some websurfing and found a story that combines history, science, and football! Afterwards, he ate five entire cans of nacho cheese flavored Pringles, then tripped on a shoe and hit his head on the toilet. Look for more exciting things from the boys as the season progresses.]

And as usual, we will be delving into the Exxes and Oze to give you all you will need to know for the upcoming contest.

We begin with a rousing cry of "War Eagle!" and get right to discussing the first game of the year for the Auburn Tigers.

The Plainsmen start their 114th season undefeated, and will be stepping onto the behedged field of Jordan-Hare Stadium tomorrow evening at 6:45 Central Time with a #4 ranking in the Associated Press preseason Top 25 Poll (following Ohio State, Notre Dame, and Texas), and a number six in the USATODAY Coach's Poll. Heady stuff, but thank goodness it's not the kiss of death #1 ranking, either. #4 is bad enough. It's worth noting that Auburn has been ranked in the preseason top 10 fifteen times in its history, and in only one case have they ever improved upon their rank (1983, started out ranked 4th, wound up 3rd).

This year looks as though it's going to be a pretty good one, no matter what the rankings might say--at least on the offensive side of the ball. Defensively, the Tigers have lost five senior starters, and although there is great depth in all positions, it is still disconcerting. Maybe not as bad as it will be at the end of the season when 21 seniors (on both offense and defense) will be leaving.

In any case, even if every game turns out to be a boring snoozefest, there is one game toward the end of the season that I will predict right now will be one for the ages--right up there with "Punt, Bama, Punt!"--and that will be the scheduled closer against the Crimson Tide. Why this year?

This.

That one simple gesture--four upraised fingers, indicating that Auburn had swept to victory four consecutive years--caused more vituperation and weeping and gnashing of teeth amongst 'Bama fans than anything in memory. This year, though, Alabama is going to be good. Very good. And full of hatred and vengence and playing on home turf amongst bronzen statues of godlike former coaches. Auburn, on the OTHER HAND (heh) would like nothing better than to make good on the boasts last year of "Fear the Thumb," reminiscent of the Steeler's "One for the Thumb" Superbowl promise. Let's just hope it doesn't take the Tigers 26 years to make good on it.

We shall see--but I think it'll be a slobberknocker.

Enough of the far distant future--at least for now. The Tiger's leadoff opponent this year is another feline-mascotted team, the Cougars of Washington State of the Pac-10 Conference. Not to be unkind, but the Cougars aren't quite in the same strata as fellow conferencemates USC. Not that anyone is. But if nothing else, this should make it easier for the Tigers to secure a win. After all, WSU only has homely Butch T. Cougar. Which (or who) is pretty lame when compared to Official Mascot Hall of Famer and perpetual crowd favorite Aubie the Tiger!

And anyway, tigers are more dangerous than cougars any day of the week.

And I had a friend in high school who had a '75 Mercury Cougar and it was an utter piece of crap.

AND not only all of that, but Auburn has an eagle, too--and ITS name is Tiger, so we've got vicious beasts out the wazoo.

Which is ALSO a vicious beast.

Of course, I don't have to do too much convincing of our overwhelming superiority when it comes to unhinged fury--even the WSU fan sites are sounding a bit skittish.

ANYWAY, we haven't even touched (so to speak) the thing that truly is the measure of one team over another.

Cheerleaders.

This year Auburn has taken some steps forward, as well as some HIGHLY regrettable steps backward. In the good section, the main page for the squad FINALLY has individual pictures, which, although too small and too full of lumbering GUY cheerleaders, is still a welcome relief from last year's complete lack of views.

A slight technical problem surfaces, however, with people like me who have ancient computers run by ossified IT departments who refuse to update the system with newer version of Flash. I think I'm limping along with Version 4 or something, and the Photos pages now runs a spiffy slideshow that requires a much newer version of Flash. No, I can't download it--that's just CRAZY TALK! So that makes it much more difficult to tune in and see what can be seen. I wish people would get away from using Flash unless it's really, really necessary.

But the worst thing? NO MORE ALL GIRL SQUAD! Last year was the debut, and there were NO annoying guys in any of the pictures and it was much better. But apparently it was not to be for this year. ::sigh::

At least there are still the Tiger Paws. I'll be sorely disappointed it they start messing it up with guys in unitards and tap shoes.

AS FOR WSU (which does not stand for Weevil State University, by the way), well, bless their hearts for trying, but they just have one crappy page. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO WIN FOOTBALL GAMES LIKE THAT, PEOPLE!?

Having now exhausted all possible angles to our story this week, it is time ONCE AGAIN to bring in our staff of highly experienced scientists, statisticians, bus boys, and head trauma patients for our 2006 FIRST GAME OF THE SEASON INAUGURAL SCORE PREDICTION!

Leaving behind past unsuccesses, we look forward this year to providing the most accurate score predictions available anywhere, and to do this we have enlisted the kind help of one of the voices in my head, who predicts a final score of...




AUBURN-42 -- WASHINGTON STATE-9

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!

Some of you probably get tired with the emphasis on football and cheerleaders around here, so in an effort to shine a spotlight on other students who labor without as much recognition, this year we have instituted the POSSUMBLOG STUDENT ATHLETE OF THE WEEK!!

And this week's recipient is Ashley Milton of the National Championship Auburn Equestrian Team. A 5ft-10in tall sophomore from Prattville, Alabama, Miss Milton rides Western, and is the recipient of the College of Agriculture Stanford Hallman Memorial Scholarship.

Smart, tall, blonde, outdoorsy, and cuter than a box full of buttons--hard to top that for our first PSAotW!

Interesting Tool

Dr. Smith wrung out enough water from his computer to send along this Wall Street Journal article about a new way to research new car purchases--by watching them on TV.

When I first started reading it I thought it sounded pretty goofy, but then I realized it's really a very serviceable way to shop. Mainly because of the way in which it's done, with a standardized format that shows the same thing for each car, allowing comparisons to be done in a much more objective way than by using things like a manufacturer's brochure. Sites like Edmunds and Kelley Blue Book rely on manufacturer's photos, which are intended to show the car in the most positive way--they are marketing tools to make you want to buy that brand, not necessarily useful for consumers trying to figure out which one might actually be better.

The only thing that does seem less than good are people who think this is all there is to it. One of the nice things about car magazines is they have commentary from people who drive a lot of cars. In a photo or video, it can be difficult to discern a difference in quality of finishes and parts and ease of service, and short of someone sitting down and actually observing these things firsthand, there is just no good way to tell if something is flimsy or comfortable.

Like anything else, it's not a do-all solution--it can help narrow down your choices and give you some bargaining power, but there is no substitute for actually driving what you think you want to buy.

OOOooooh! This sounds--

--tendentious, yet supercilious. Sent by noted musical arts lover Steevil, who also took note of the steallar qualities of one of the guests:

[...] Chuck D, founder of “Public Enemy” and recognized as hip-hop’s most respected intellectual, kicks off the series on Sept. 12. [...]

Steevil notes that such high approbation in this instance is akin to being the the world's tallest midget.

KITTY!

As promised, today's edition of Friday Catblogging is gonna be kicked up to a whole 'nother level, with not only photographs of Lightning, The World's Most Expensive Free Kitten, but all kinds of other things around the house as well!

But first, the star of the show--KITTY!

He was in a more accomodating mood this morning, so I was able to get many more photos than usual, and this time they weren't all of his backside as he runs away.

First, here he contemplates the world from atop his condominium, trying to decide what to bite and scratch first.

Hopping down from his perch, he sharpened his claws on the bike tires and displayed his lightning stripe to frighten predators.

Cooly surveying his realm--

He determined there was prey in the form of wildebeests in the yard, and took up a hiding place between the smoker and the derelict planter so he could fuzz up his tail at them.

Feeling parched from his hunt, he then decided to go drink some filthy algae- and silt-laden water out of the frog--

AHhhh.

Put him in the mood for tree climbing, it did.

First victim was Ashley's maple tree. Take THAT!

After subduing that species, he scrambled down and dashed over to the tall pine in the corner of the yard.

One second he's poised on the ground--

--the next he's fifteen feet up. I've never seen a cat so adept at climbing, and he's even gotten relatively good at getting himself down.

INTERLUDE!

Flowers! This is one of the roses growing around the wooden platform next to the pine tree. It looks remarkably good, considering it gets absolutely NO tending.

Back to the show.

After extricating himself from the tree, it was time to recapture him and confine him again to his lair. Here he looks half drunk. (I think he's been hanging around Kit, the Wonder Cat too much.)

EPILOGUE

Cars! After securing him securely with much security, it was time to drag the garbage can and the recycle bin around to the front sidewalk, and since I had my trusty HP Photosmart M407 with me, I figured I'd show you exactly what it was I did to the back bumper of the van.

Behold!

A set of holes, with a mirror set of indented pre-holes above and below the entrance wounds. Impossible to push the hanging chads back in place from behind, too much trouble to fix correctly. Yep, time for a bumper sticker.

As for the cause, look no further than the sturdy Swedish acorn nuts on this baby--

You can see it made a couple of whitish places in the tag where it got bent, but that was the only damage, such as it was.

Since it was nice outside, and the car was relatively clean, I took a couple of shots of it, too--this one turned out pretty good, in that it disguises the horrible condition of the paint on the hood and roof.

Of course, taking a picture of your car on the driveway in the early morning hours is a pretty odd thing to be doing, so what should occur but getting

BUSTED!

One of my many neighbors of the female variety was out on her morning constitutional. To make matters worse she was wearing Those Things.

You know.

White shorts. With white socks and sneakers.

Obviously since I had been espied doing something completely goofy, I had to wait until she was out of earshot of the camera click to complete my morning's artistic endeavors.

Even halfway down the block, moving away fast, and partially obscured by a tree, "Yow."

AND THUS ENDS YET ANOTHER EPISODE OF FRIDAY CATBLOGGING!

This World Needs Dependable Vegetables!!

Kitchen Hand with a paean to diminuitive Belgians.

I must say I am a fan as well, although we don't get enough of them because the kids have an aversion to them, but I think if we used Hand's recipe, they might come around.

After all, I've had breakfast this morning, but reading all that made me very very hungry.

Deneuvealanche!

I checked my site stats last night and was surprised to see that I had received a big uptick in visitors late in the evening. It was so much higher than my regular traffic that I figured I must have been the recipient of a Instalanche or something,

However, when I checked the referrals, it seems that all of the visitors were searching for images of Catherine Deneuve, and the one in particular that made them come here (or more accurately, to my old Blogspot site), was this:

::sighhhhhh:: Anyway, why the sudden flood, I have no idea. There was a story yesterday about the opening of the Venice (talk about something flooding!) Film Festival, and Miss Deneuve is the jury president, so maybe that's what sparked it.

And speaking of spark, my goodness, she is still quite the looker.

Ernestoblogging!

Jim Smith reports.

Also of interest, Wake Island is having a bit of a go of it, too.

Now usually...

...I do my best not to oversell what you'll find on here on any given day, mainly because things have a way of getting all messed up and I fail to meet the high expectations that have been set. But today, I think even if it DOES get messed up, there's gonna be so much high-quality fooferall on here that it would charm even the most jaded soul. Lots of kitty pictures, scenes of domestic harmony, Catherine Deneuve, and The World's Greatest Sport.

Having thus built up the suspense, I do beg your patience in one thing--it does take a while to get all the photos resized and uploaded and junk, and then I have to go and write stuff to go with them, and since that horrible head trauma that I can't remember anything about, it does take longer than it used to to come up with something. So please, your patience is appreciated.