Possumblog

::sigh::

Yet another day where I won't get to come out and play due to having to toil my life away in the salt mine. Actually, it's not really a salt mine--more like a manure mine. Anyway, I have a bunch of garbage to do and I have to get it done, so all of you run and play without me and I'll try to catch up on things later.

::sigh::

COMMENT SPAM MUST DIE!!

25 spam messages--no WONDER my post got eaten. I hope the people who do this meet an horrible and untimely demise.

GRRR!!

Mu.nu is acting up and ate my entire post! ARRGGHHHH!!

Well, dang. I hate it when that happens, because I never can get my thoughts together again when it does. Well, poop.

Anyway, I'm just going to have to give you a list of the pictures with a brief caption for right now--I've got work work to do, and don't have time to go back through and make a whole new post. GRRR!!

Also, since Mu.nu has been acting up, I can't upload any pictures, so I'm relying on my fallback Photobucket account. I'm just going to go ahead and post the entire image below the jump, so if you have a slow connection, please be patient and let them load.

Okay, here is bedraggled Boy as we set off on our expedition--

The place we camped was a very nice 31-acre spread alongside Logan Martin Lake that belongs to the sister of one of the Scout leaders. Or it did--they just sold it, meaning this is the last year we’ll be able to use it.

Here is Jonathan proudly displaying his tent-pitching skills--

After the boys changed out of their uniforms and had some lunch and some free time

--it was time for the exhaustive battery of team relays. Here the boys pretend to listen to the rules.

And here is Jonathan participating in the cracker-chewing-then-whistling relay.

He is accompanied by Sparky, who belongs to the man whose sister owns the place. Sparky appeared to be approximately 114 years old, and had two speeds--waddle and stop. Sparky looked to be a cross between a pug, a bulldog, and a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. He liked crackers.

Our team eventually won. After that, Boy decided to sit down and sketch some--

This is the view he was looking at.

After that, suppertime. Here he prepares sausage for his faux Mexican pizza, which was really more of a quesadilla. Or pizzadilla, as he called them.

After supper, the campfire, and I went to bed early because I was cold and sleepy. Sunday was a bit warmer, but Sunday morning was still rather frigid. Pretty, though--here’s the fog rising off the lake as I poked my head out the tent on Sunday morning.

All in all, a wonderful trip, but I was glad to get back home, too. And I wish this stupid blog server was working right, because I said a whole lot more than that. HMPH!

Well, hello there!

Lots of weekend to talk about, but it will come back to me in dribs and drabs, because I keep finding myself with my head tilted back and loud snoring noises coming out of my mouth. Weird!

Oh, and I've got some pictures so that'll take a little while to get them resized and such. Of course, that'll take a while, too, for the same loud snoring sound reason...

Well, now--speaking of cooking and manliness and such...

...the weekend approaches, and as I mentioned earlier in the week, Scout Boy and I will be heading for the wilderness with his troop tomorrow to spend a couple of days frightening the small animals. It's supposed to be a whole family campout, but the girls are content to let us go off and be savages for a day or two, which is just as well since the idea is for each Scout to take care of the cooking and comfort needs of his family for the entire time. Now I can wrangle five other people, but Boy might be a bit out of his league on that one. Taking care of himself and one old chubby guy is probably more his speed.

ANYway, he gets to cook my meals for me, which should be interesting since he's going to try to make pizza and cookies. Mexican pizza, at that. I keep trying to remind him that we don't quite have the necessary equipment to bake anything, but he's pretty determined what he's got planned will work. I have a feeling I will be giving some assistance. Anyway, we'll have sandwiches for lunch tomorrow, then our evening meal of Mexican pizza and salad with cookies, then sausage omelets for breakfast Sunday.

The rest of the time will be spent doing Scoutish things, I suppose. Looks like a whole lot of free time in there, judging by the schedule, and I'm not quite sure Boy is quite aware of just how long that can last when you don't have a television or a Game Boy and are expected to run around in the woods for hours on end.

BUT, that's okay. I think it'll be pretty fun, as long as I can manage to stay warm and dry and free of chiggers and ticks. And I can tell you that modern camping beats the heck out of campaign-style reenacting--nothing will remind you of your age quite so much as sleeping on frozen ground with nothing but a thin wool blanket around you. Which is one of the reasons I don't do that anymore--war is for young men, and so is dressing up and playing at it.

SO, anyway, that's the plan for this weekend. All of you have a good time and Lord willing we'll see each other again come Monday.

You want to know why?

Testosterone Tumbling in American Males

FRIDAY, Oct. 27 (HealthDay News) -- The testosterone-fueled American male may be losing his punch.

Over the past two decades [emphasis mine], levels of the sex hormone in U.S. men have been falling steadily, a new study finds. [...]

The reasons for this trend are unclear, said researchers at the New England Research Institutes in Waterdown, Mass. They noted that neither aging nor certain other health factors, such as smoking or obesity, can fully explain the decline. [...]

I'll tell you why.

The Oprah Winfrey Show "is the longest running daytime television talk show in the United States, with 20 seasons - currently in its 21st season - and thousands of episodes since it debuted on September 8, 1986."

Coincidence?

I THINK NOT!!

Observations from the Food Court

I hadn't intended on sitting down and eating, but the idea of wrestling a take-out box of food back to the office while simultaneously holding an umbrella and a drink and fighting a stiff breeze didn't have a lot to recommend it.

SO, I got my food and sat down, and as is the usual case, I could not help but notice that I have much wisdom to offer to the youngsters out there.

Namely, this: Guys--if you took the time to make a lunch date with a pretty young blonde girl, go ahead and try to dress up just a little. Shave, comb your hair, put on something that tucks in your pants, wear shoes that you can't also hike in. You know--dress like a grown-up. Especially since she showed up and took the time to wear something pretty--simple black sweater and slacks, but look at those shiny high heels! And look at that hair! She dressed up some, you should have, too.

Second--for the girls. If this joker shows up and doesn't have the sense to turn off his cell phone, and allows it to continually interrupt your conversation with him, drop him like the bag of warm moist dog poop he is.

Guys, I hate to tell you this, but there are very few people so important that they can't take an hour disconnected from the phone. Especially if we're talking about you, and you're wearing a concert tee-shirt and sneakers. If you're REALLY important, remember that important grown-ups have secretaries to take messages. If you aren't that important, remember that there's a reason for having voice mail. Otherwise, turn off the phone and talk to the nice girl you're eating with.

So there.

Speaking of the kitchen...

...and of the proper manner in which traditional foods should be prepared, as threatened, we now delve into the topic of biscuits.

Now, first of all, for all you people who speak British, we aren't talking about cookies. We're talking about the things you call scones, except not exactly. A good biscuit can be a meal in itself if done properly, satisfying one for an entire day or more, and provide enough vigor for the bodily organs to allow even a small meek man to do the work of three rough stevedores.

As with other foods favored by the common persons of the South, biscuits are best constructed simply, with no fanciful admixtures, additives, enhancements, features, elements, components, compounds, or enliveners which tend to mask the essential honesty and character of the item. Oh, most certainly there are those who have stuffed a variety of unconscionable furebelos into things that they turn around and call biscuits, but as the old saying goes, 'just because the cat had kittens in the oven doesn't mean we call them biscuits.'

SO THEN, just how does one go about making biscuits? First, put away the sugar. If you use sugar, I shall have to hit you with a brick.

Second of all, allow yourself to become a stout 80 year old woman, of a kindly demeanor, and put on an apron. Because only grandmamas can actually cook biscuits the right way.

Next, lightly grease a flat cookie sheet and set it aside. Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. Then sift 2 cups of self-rising flour into a large glass bowl. Take 1/4 cup of shortening and add to the flour and cut it into the flour with a fork or even better, a pastry blender. This makes much quicker work of the job and keeps you from worrying the dough too much. After it's all worked through the flour to where it looks crumbly, add a bit over 3/4 cup buttermilk and mix together until the dough begins to stick to itself and not the bowl. Again, don't be rough with it or work it too long. Dump onto a floured counter or wak paper and knead it just enough to get it nice and pretty and smooth, then roll it out between a 1/2 and 3/4 inches thick. Dip a biscuit cutter or the rim of a smooth drinking glass (preferably one you got out of a box of Duz) and cut the biscuits and place them on the cookie sheet with their sides barely touching. Re-roll the dough until it gets so small that you can't cut any more circles, and the last piece roll out into a snake and twist around like a rope. This one goes to the youngest child in the house.

Bake at 450 degrees (real Fahrenheit degrees, not Frenchy Celsius degrees) for about 10 to 12 minutes or until the tops are nice and biscuity brown. Brush with butter and serve hot.

Bask in warm glow of compliments from people extolling your genius.

But don't put sugar in the dough.

UPDATE: I forgot about it, but since it IS Catblogging Friday, you could make yourself some cathead biscuits by not rolling out the dough and cutting it into circles, but by spooning the dough out onto the cookie sheet. The resultant lumpy mountains of biscuit are more crusty (since you don't spoon them out so they touch, the entire surface gets brown) and are harder to cut in two for a slice of ham or sausage (since they're in the shape of a squatty cone) but they do taste just as good.

More Help in the Kitchen!

Congratulations to all the Kitchen Hand family on the birth of their newest 4800 gram chunk of boy!

And now we turn to the greatest of all questions…

Why does Ole Miss spell “Old” as “Ole,” which to me looks like the Spanish word ¡olé!, instead of spelling it “Ol’ ” the way it should be spelled?

IT IS A MYSTERY, and one you’re guaranteed NOT to see solved on this, the World’s Most Wildly Inaccurate Sports Show on the Internet, Possumblog Sports Center!

This week our wonderful Auburn Tigers (6-1, 4-1 SEC) head way over to the home of the mint julep swilling Rebels of the University of Missisisspiee (2-6, 1-4 SEC) after winning a workmanlike (some would say “yeomanlike,” while others would content themselves with “competent,” or possible “proficient”) victory over the Tulanesters last weekend.

Although Coach Tuberville is rather much despised in Oxford and any SEC team is a pretty good challenge during the year, about the only way Auburn can travel to Vaught-Hemingway Stadium and not come back victorious is to just quit and let Ole Miss win. Missisislpiiieippe does have an SEC-leading running back, and an SEC-leading linebacker, and they have indeed gotten better as they year has worn on, but they just don’t have the depth necessary to bring home a win this time. Unless Auburn plays dead--which can happen.

Probably won’t, though. The team is still beaten up some, but according to Coach Tuberville. they’re more well physically than they’ve been since the first of the season, with Cox finally feeling like his old self and injured center Joe Cope moving back up to backup status after a long lay-off.

As usual, the key to stopping Auburn will be either pressuring Cox with aggressive pass rush, or shutting down the long running game. Teams have managed to slow Auburn down by hitting the line hard, and if they can contain Kenny Irons, they do well enough. If he gets past the line, however, all bets are off. He’s an open-field threat, and now that there are some younger players in the backfield who are proving their talent, the running attack is going to be much more productive. Unless it’s not--which could happen.

Defensively, the Tigers just have to play ball. Ole Miss doesn’t run much complication, but they can do what they do well enough to cause trouble. The Tigers have shown some occasional slack in the middle on running games and have gotten beaten some on the long passes, but again they should be able to have a good game, and I think will have some defensive points scoring as they did in the second half against Florida. Overall it seems to be a matter of having everyone playing at the same time and toward the same end, and this late in the year is a bit too late for everyone to be unsure of where they should be or whom they should cover.

“BUT,” you interject, “what of that one truest test of football abilities!?”

A good question, but not that easily answered. Oh, sure, there’s some nice photos of the cheerleaders and the Rabblettes, and a nice feature where you can make the photos REALLY big, but I am less than impressed with the number of photos. As is also usual, though, I’m not too impressed with Auburn’s website either. Call it a toss up. Or a herky. Or something.

ANYWHO, it is now that time of the show when we venture forth into the unknown and unknowable, when we edge out onto the ledge, when we peer into the abyss, when we offer forth THIS WEEK’S PREDICTION OF FINAL OUTCOME!!

If you’re as nervous as I am, you should take something. I’ll wait.

Okay, better?

GOOD!

MY PREDICTION IS:






AUBURN 34 -- MISSISSIPPI 10

Kickoff will be another early one at 11:30 a.m. Central, with coverage provided by the wretched Lincoln Sports Network, and by your Auburn Radio Network.

BUT WAIT, THAT’S NOT ALL!!

Yes, it’s time to make certain that we name our next Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week, so that we can ensure our smart and brainy and thoughty athletes get as much recognition as they deserve. This week we take a look at an athlete who plays the OTHER football (which I hesitate to dignify with that name since it creates confusion as to the REAL football) but nevertheless, it is a somewhat clever way to introduce you to sophomore forward Kara Kasten.

A native of Roswell, Georgia, Kara is a Top Tiger in the classrooms on the Plains, and comes to Auburn from Blessed Trinity Catholic where she graduated summa cum laude. An undeclared liberal arts major, Kara enters her second of what will surely be another highly productive year on the soccer pitch. In her first year, the robust 5ft-5in blonde was one of only two freshman to play in all 21 games, and she started in 10 of them. Of all her stellar qualities, possibly the finest one is her unashamed admission that she eats chocolate donuts and three slices of bacon every morning. Now that’s my type of scholar-athlete!

So we congratulate Kara Kasten as our newest PSAotW!

KITTY!

Sorry--the Friday Catblogging picture feature of Lightning, The World's Most Expensive Free Kitten, has been called on account of rain. However, in order to maintain my catblogging credentials, we offer the following alternative cat-related photo--

We present to you Honor Blackman, of Goldfinger fame.

Rrrowwl.

A Reprieve!

The football game got rescheduled for Monday, so I can go home and go sleepy-bye!

Although probably not quite as soon as I'd like.

BUT THAT'S OKAY!

More Help for the Wayward

Despite the fact that I need to be doing work work, I noticed while not doing work work an odd reference in the referrer logs to this post dealing with yet another of the humble foods of the South--grits.

A nice young fellow up in the D.C. area (a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm) named Paulo has done gone and got himself a box of grits and now wants to know what to do with them. And down in the responses, faithful Possumblog reader and occasional commentor Tom Jackson told everyone that we here could provide light to guide the erring and make sure that grits is/are/am given their due honor.

SO, first of all, before we get too far into this, a good resource is the Quaker Grits site, where you can find out many, MANY things about the inside of a kernel of corn. Grits have heritage, grits have technical aspects worth noting, grits are useful in recipes (and NOT just for feeding hogs!), and grits are available in many different varieties. You want something even better? Here--this has even more stuff about grits.

But let's get one thing straight--just because you can put something in a bowl doesn't mean you SHOULD put it in a bowl with grits. Just as with cornbread, grits are best in their uncivilized state--hot, with butter and salt (and some pepper). No sugar. None. Or I shall come to your house and hit you with a spoon. Now, I know--what about cheese grits? Well, they are good, and so is bacon, but I still feel cheap and dandified when I eat such concoctions. It just doesn't feel right.

Now then, to answer Paulo's questions: "So how do I eat this? Is there some sort of ceremony or something? You don't slice bananas and strawberries into it, do you?"

Since he has the box of quick grits, you simply boil water and then slowly pour in the grits and stir until they thicken up--the instructions are right there on the can.

As for ceremony, unlike the Japanese tea ceremony, it is not necessary to embark upon a series of complex rituals. One dips out a big spoonful onto a plate, right there beside the biscuits and the eggs and sausage, and then eats.

Bananas? Strawberries? Well, people do all kinds of things. They get tattoos, they jump out of planes, they watch reruns of the Newlywed Game, they vote Democratic. Does this mean you SHOULD do something, just because it's possible? Of course not. It makes nice people sad when you do. So please, don't put bananas in your grits. Or strawberries. Or any of your body parts, unless it's maybe your index finger, and you're only doing that to get the last bit of grits out of a bowl.

Now then--some words of caution about grits. Grits can be hot if they just come out of the pan. If you put them in your mouth it will hurt unless they're not so hot as to burn you. Put butter on them to cool them off some.

Don't let grits get too cold, though, or they turn into a very nice substitute for Redi-mix concrete. They can be slightly rejuvenated with redeye gravy, however.

Do not slurp your grits. It is poor manners, and even though they are eaten by poor people, it's no excuse to act like the sorry sort and act like you don't have manners.

If your grits are served to you in a bowl, use a spoon to eat them. If they're on your plate, use your fork or your spoon, but not your knife. Unless they get on your knife and then I think it's probably okay.

Grits make you strong, so be careful when you get up from the table that you don't break it with your newfound he-man (or she-woman) strength.

Grits maybe eaten alone, but it's better to eat them with someone you love.

Awwwww--grits are nice! But remember, don't put sugar on them or I'll hit you.

I tell you what--

--if it ain't one thing, it's another.

I hadn't intended on doing only one post yesterday, but along about 1:40 as I was just about halfway through lunch, I got a call from the elementary school about a little youngster who shares my surname having a bout of the gut ache. Normally, I would have told them just to send her back to class, but seeing as how Rebecca spent the day Monday over at Grandmom's house with a terrible stomachache, I figured Youngest must have gotten a touch of it as well.

SO, off to the other side of town to pick her up.

Oh, and this is on top of the fact that Reba had just gotten to work yesterday when the high school nurse called her about Oldest, who seemed to be having a recurrence of her internal plumbing distress and so she'd had to ALSO go home, get her, and take her to the doctor, then to the hospital so they could run an ultrasound and do blood work and all that stuff. SO, there was all that going on as well.

Off to get Cat, who seemed a bit sluggish when she came to the lobby, and slightly on the warm side. Hmm. This dissipated about the time we got to the middle school. We'd gone there to pick up the Middle Two, since Reba's mom had gone with her to the hospital with Oldest, meaning the two middle schoolers wouldn't have been able to get in her house if they'd ridden the bus. SO, a note was sent to them to come ride with Dad, who was parked out front.

WHO, at that moment, was desperately trying to take a quick nap, because he was once more having one of those sudden loss of energy moments from the lungcrud he's been battling. Luckily, Youngest took this time to recover from her malady completely, and her constant chattering and wiggling and running back and forth from the car to the trash can on the front porch of the middle school managed to keep me from actually getting any sleep.

Bell rang, kids made their way to the car, we went home, sat them down to do their homework, and I collapsed on the couch. Got about five minutes of actual sleep in about two hours. Oldest came in seemingly in fine fettle, since she was loudly telling all the younger kids in her usual haughty way about just how horrible everything was at the hospital. Mom said they hadn't been able to find anything specific, which I found just SO shocking. I know Oldest really does have some pain, but I also know it has a way of growing all out of proportion depending on the circumstances. ::sigh::

Anyway, had a bite to eat, and the two Middle Kids and I got ready to go to church and get gas in the Volvo, which we did, then on the way back we had to stop by the drug store and get my medicine, and THEN on over to Staples to pick up some envelopes. We HAD TO HAVE ENVELOPES.

Got back in the car and started the final leg down Main Street to the blessed relief of home. Passed by the shopping center, noticed the two police cars parked driver-door-to-driver-door at the funeral home, checked to make sure I was going the speed limit, which I was, did my mental checklist of stuff I had to come in and do today for work, tried to figure out why, exactly, we needed envelopes tonight of all nights, thought about this weekend's campout with Boy, which sounds fun, and FLASHING BLUE LIGHTS!!

Wha!?

I was just past the Target part of the shopping center, and I knew I was still putting along the same speed I'd been going, so at first I thought they might be on a call somewhere on down toward the center of town, but when I slowed down to pull off into the Eastminster church parking lot, the cruiser followed me right into the driveway.

Uh-oh. I wonder what in the world is going on?

Of course, the kids were greatly excited by this turn of events.

Engine off, dome light on, window down, hands on wheel.

The officer approached slowly with his hand near his holster, "Sir, may I see your license and proof of insurance?"

I fished out my license and insurance card and handed it to him while the kids whispered gleefully back and forth to each other.

The policeman looked at my information for a bit and then said, "Sir, I stopped you tonight because you don't have any taillights."

Oh, dadgummit. I didn't quite doubt him, as I've had lighting trouble on the old Volvo for months now that I haven't quite gotten all sorted out, but I thought that I had myself covered by using the rear fog lamps--the Volvo has an auxiliary set of red lamps in the back to enhance visibility in snow and fog. I'd had them on, but I suppose they must have gotten burnt out.

"I don't have ANY lights back there?"

"No, sir."

"Uh--well, I have had some trouble with them, so, uhmm, well--okay then."

He took my license back to his car and came back with a warning ticket. While he was gone, Rebecca, of all people, kept jabbering about how she didn't like it that he was taking so much time and how she couldn't understand why he stopped us and on and on and ON until I told her to SHUT UP AND NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD!

Which she did.

Thus, with a warning in hand, I cranked back up and we headed on up to the house, unloaded ourselves, and I sent them on to get their baths while I once more collapsed on the bed.

Today?

Well, Oldest is over at Grandmom's, so I brought the Focus to work today since it's dark and rainy and I don't want to get stopped again for not having taillights, and I'll be taking Boy to the game tonight so he can beat on his drum, and I'm hoping that the cold damp weather doesn't cause my lungcrud to turn into tuberculosis or scurvy or dropsy.

And worst of all?

I didn't quite have time in all that to come up with a Thursday Three for today.

Sorry.

Maybe next week?

We'll see.

As for now, I have all the stuff I was supposed to do yesterday to get done, as well as the stuff I'm supposed to do today done, because I've got to leave early to go get Boy and get him to the bandroom on time.

And now I would like to take a nap.

Zzzzz

I'M AWAKE!

Not that I want to be.

Whatever I've got is doing a number on me like a light switch--one minute I'm perky and obtuse and irreverent, the next minute I feel like my brain has turned to molasses and all I want to do is sleep. The congestion is breaking up, which is both good and bad. Breathing, after all, is a good thing. Hacking up giant wads of mucilage? Well, it's certainly satisfying on some level, but still, socially awkward.

A busy evening last night didn't help. Reba needed gas in the van, and Boy needed a new pair of ugly gardening shoes to fit in with all the other kids. ::sigh::

You might recall I'd gotten him a pair of mock-Crocs a while back, which were not quite the high quality one would normally expect from a $5 pair of plastic shoes made by Chinese child labor. The strap on one came loose. It had a little retainer button that was supposed to snap onto a corresponding plastic snap on the shoe, but the plastic was messed up and it would never stay snapped. He'd walk around with it flopping, and so I finally just took it off for him so he wouldn't look so bedraggled. The problem was in leaving the other strap on the other shoe.

Apparently, the lack of symmetry bothered him--one shoe with a strap, one shoe without--because sometime over the weekend, I noticed he had something threaded on his shoe and wrapped around the back of his heel--

"JONATHAN! What have you got on that shoe!?"

"Nothing!"

"Well, what's that red string on there!?"

"It's not a string!"

"But what IS it!?"

"It's a pipe cleaner, Dad."

Oh, well, of COURSE.

::sigh::

I realize we don't have great wads of cash, but there is a certain stubborn pridefulness in me that will not allow me to have one of my kids walking along with a shoe--even a cheap $5 pair of Chinese-child-made plastic shoes--tied on with a wire pipe cleaner.

"Jonathan! No. No, son, we AREN'T going to do that--I'll GET you another pair of shoes, but you will NOT go to school looking like that!"

"I wasn't going to go to school with it like this!"

Wasn't, won't, whatever. Anyway, I told him when we went to the store Monday to get supplies for our weekend Scout campout (coming up this weekend--oh boy!) that I'd take him and get some shoes.

But I forgot his shoes in the midst of all the food shopping.

SO, last evening I arrived to pick them up from Grandmom's house after an afternoon of feeling pretty darned chipper, and Boy asked the moment I got in the door if we could go get his shoes. Tenacious little booger, he is.

I agreed, got us all home, got supper started, welcomed Mom home, found out the van was out of gas, told her I had a shoe chore to fulfill, found out that Oldest needed a foundation garment that required the assistance of Mom, and further Oldest wanted to go to the second night of an audition for the local theater group, and at that very moment we had a nice pile of fish baking in the oven, meaning that this was going to turn out to be something of a tag-team effort.

SO, out the door in a rush with Boy in tow, stopped at Academy so I could check on a few supplies that I needed to replenish in my camping stuff and walked up onto a whole pile of Crocs, so we found a black pair that fit him, and THEN...

The Holy Grail--The White Whale--The Brass Ring!

"What!?" you might ask, fearing the answer.

AS well you should.

Bright yellow rubber shoes! IN MY SIZE!!

Some of you might recall that many seasons ago, while Pam the Liberal still worked here with me, that our department was beset by a hollow husk of a human whose sole purpose in life seemed to be promulgating stupid department-wide regulations. Why? Well, he never could quite get the idea that if someone was making trouble, you deal with that person. His idea was that you make EVERYONE unhappy by layering on another layer of ridiculous work rules intended to curb the troublemaker. You all know how these things work out--the troublemaker continues to make trouble, and you're left with a bunch of policies that are ignored. Until some little martinet wants to make trouble.

ANYWAY, one of the things was a dress code, which was a marvel of incoherence and oddness. I always dress like a bureaucratic drone anyway, so the idea of wearing torn blue jeans to work or tight, revealing workout clothes wasn't really high on my things-to-do list, and I do happen to bathe on a very regular schedule so flies rarely find me more than momentarily attractive, and I do wear shoes. So, the whole idea of such a silly bit of rank-pulling chafed me, and I swore to Pam the Liberal that one day I was going to come into work wearing a kilt (since they were not prohibited) and a pair of bright yellow rubber garden clogs (since ladies' shoes were so rigidly prescribed, but mens' were not) and just see what the reaction would be. I was only half-joking, but as time wore on, it became a running gag betwixt Pam and myself as to when I would be showing up in my garb.

The problem? Well, the kilt was not a problem since there's plenty of places you can get them, but I really DID want a pair of nice gardening shoes to wear out in the yard, and for some reason, I was averse to ordering a pair online. I have no idea why--I've ordered other stuff--but I never did really want to go to the trouble of ordering a pair of clogs. THEN when the big Croc craze hit, and the kids wanted some, I started looking around for a pair for myself. Although a black pair would be much more suitable, in the back of my mind, I told myself that only yellow would do. The problem was finding anything in yellow in a man's shoe--large-sized yellow shoes I suppose generally being the choice of clowns or the disturbed.

BUT LAST NIGHT--I finally found yellow rubber garden clogs in my size! YAY ME!! So, I got Boy a replacement pair of black ones, and I now have a pair of yellow. Which I didn't wear today since I had a very serious meeting to attend. And anyway, when I do wear them I want Pam to be able to see them. BUT AT LEAST I HAVE THEM NOW!!

SO, after that and after some other shopping (running through the store) at Target and after filling up with gas at the foot of the hill, we zipped back home, sat down to eat, and I was suddenly in that complete shutdown mode.

Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. Ashley came back in from the audition, she and Mom left to go bra-shopping, I put things in the dishwasher, the kids went and took their baths, and I draped myself on the side of the bed like a sack of wet plaster.

Sometime later, Reba and Ashley got home, I think the kids went to bed, I turned around and stuck my head between a couple of pillows, Reba showered and came to bed, and all night long I dreamed of the usual decrepit old small towns I usually dream about (one of the places was an old ball park that had a faux Norman tower that had been built in 1909 and the whole bottom of it was gone--somehow) and then I woke up this morning with a plan.

I would get up and go in for my meeting, then turn around and come right back home and go to bed and sleep the rest of the day.

I got up and stood in the shower half-asleep for nearly twenty minutes, and decided I might should go in to the office after the meeting just so I could finish up the paperwork from the meeting, then tell my boss I was going home for the rest of the day.

Got out, got dressed, got the kids rousted (somewhat), kissed Reba 'bye, and wondered if I would actually get any sleep if I went home after the meeting. Daytime sleep is always a hit-or-miss thing, you know. You hear stuff you don't hear at night, like dump trucks and day laborers.

Drove in to work, admired the lurid dayglo sunrise, had the meeting, took copious notes while nursing a Diet Coke, packed up afterwards and got here. Hmm. What a pile of junk to do. Maybe after lunch?

Nah. I guess I'll stay for the duration. Maybe I'll sleep in late tomorrow. Or go to bed extra early tonight. Or mableke,,,,,,,,,,,,, WHA!? Sorry. Maybe I could just rack out under my drafting table...

Tomorrow?

Meeting.

Blech.

WHICH MEANS, I will not have much of anything up until much later in the day.

::sigh::

Hmm.

Y'know, I think my template is still messed up. Shouldn't there should be a bit more left margin space so that the blog text and the quote-of-the-week text align? I think it was like that before, because it sure does look odd after I had my little snafu yesterday morning. What do I need to do to get it back the way it should be? Or, at least the way I thought it was?

To return the erring to the way.

Since I pretend to be an authority on all things, and most particularly upon matters pertaining to things Southern, and even MORE particularly, things Southern that people put inside of their mouths, I am often called upon to gently guide the culinary lost sheep of this nation to a more proper understanding of the proper manner and method of cooking various dishes, or, failing in that effort, to smite all upon the infidels with a big skillet who don't do things right.

SUCH IS THE CASE with one Miss Diane, quilter and Wisconsonian who this past Sabbath got herself a powerful hankering for some cornbread.

Alas, I was too late to save her from committing an abomination before the Lord, but it is my hope that we can get her back upon the straight and narrer when it comes to this most humble and earthy of comestibles.

AND THUS ONCE MORE, we embark upon our sermon for the day:

How to Cook Cornbead

I would ask the congregation to click to The Website of Jane Linton and the chapter entitled "Cornbread."

Now let us read: Ask ten Southern cooks and you'll get ten different recipes for making cornbread. But one ingredient a true Southern cook will not include in her, or his, recipe is sugar....

And amen.

Miss Jane has several recipes for cornbread, but this one is about what I make:

BASIC SOUTHERN CORNBREAD

Country Style

2 cups of self-rising cornmeal
2 eggs beaten
2 cups buttermilk
2 Tablespoons bacon drippings, melted, or veg. oil

Heat oven to 450 degrees. Grease your 9-inch skillet with about 2 tablespoon of shortening or oil (Use bacon drippings instead if available). Leave oil in bottom of pan.

Place pan in oven to heat.

Combine cornmeal, 2 eggs, buttermilk, and the melted bacon drippings. Mix well. I find a whisk does this nicely. Pour into hot skillet. Batter will sizzle.

Bake at 450 degrees for 35 minutes or until golden brown. Serves 6 to 8

Hint: Sprinkle a little cornmeal in the hot pan before adding the batter. It will brown and add a crispier texture.

That's it. One thing must not be overlooked, however--the skillet. Scroll down Miss Jane's page to see how to properly season a skillet, and yes, you pretty much have to use a cast iron skillet, which is what the Lord gave unto Moses right after he gave him that big stone cookbook.

Of all the things, the skillet is the thing that is the most important because that's the only way you get that crunchy crust all around. It does have to be fully hot before you pour in the batter, and the more you use it the better it will get. As the instructions say, don't wash it with soap and water--you wipe it out with a paper towel. If you just can't stand the idea of not getting it any less than spotless, you can use a little cornmeal for grit to clean it with. But let's face it--if you heat it up to 450 degrees, nothing's going to live on it that'll hurt you.

Use a good quality iron, too. I've got a set of cheap Chinese skillets and although they're okay, the surface is a bit too rough to take a good seasoning. Once my mother dies, though, her skillet is the first thing I'm stealing from her--she's got a good one that's almost as old as she is.

Now, for those of you who just can't leave well enough alone, do what you will, but realize it makes the angels cry when you get that sugar scoop out.

We ask those of you who've been doing that which is unseemly to repent of your sinful ways. Or I'll hit you with a skillet.

I don't care who you are or what you look like...

...this is funny: Ala. etiquette maven tricked in to appearing in new 'Borat' film.

By BOB CARLTON
The Associated Press

BIRMINGHAM, Ala. (AP) — Etiquette expert Cindy Streit got punk'd by Borat.

The ever-proper Birmingham grandmother has unknowingly become the target of British comedian Sacha Baron Cohen's outrageous humor in his upcoming movie satire "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan."

Streit's faux pas? Being a gracious Southern hostess.

"We were (Baron Cohen's) innocent victims, and his brand of humor depends on innocent victims," Streit said Monday. [...]

"I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to display some of our positive strengths," Streit said. "I'm proud to be an American, so I wanted to show this man our gracious Southern hospitality."

She did some checking around, and everything appeared to be on the up-and-up.

So Streit arranged for her and some other unsuspecting guests — including broadcasting executive Ben McKinnon, Republican fund-raiser Sarah Moseley and Mountain Brook Presbyterian Church pastor Cary Speaker — to meet Baron Cohen for dinner at Magnolia Springs Manor in Helena.[...]

"He insulted all of us, but we sat there and took it because we thought we were really going to make a difference," Moseley said. "So we were angry when we found out that we had been duped." [...]

Well, you know, anyone could get fooled, but the next time you do some "checking around," you might want to be a bit more caution.

::giggle::

Ahem. Sorry.

Princess Nafisa

Could she be the next Mrs. Hanji Sal?

I don't know, but it's worth a try. Just got one of those e-mails, this time with the subject "Re: MASSAGE FROM PRINCESS NAFISA /VERY URGENT REPLY." I usually delete these without reading them, but for some reason the princess angle got my attentino, and upon reading it, this one has a certain charming cluelessness about it that I find compelling. Usual greetings, then the story:

[...] Well, my father died earlier eight months ago and left I and my junior brother behind. He was a king, which our town citizens titled him over sixteen years before his death. I was a princess to him and I am the only person who can take care of his wealth now because my junior brother is still young and my mother is not literate enough to know all my father's wealth. He left the sum of 12.350 us dollars. (TEN MILLION THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND US DOLLARS, ) [...]

On and on she goes talking about percentages and the need to keep this all hush-hush and all the stuff similar to all the other worthless e-mails, but you have to admit, the made-up royalty story is really neat. I mean, imagine the whole town naming your dad the KING! You gotta admit that's pretty spectacular, what with having an illiterate wife and all.

Anyway, I think it's time to bring someone back from his long slumber...

hELLO! i JUTS GOT YOU EMALE AND AN SO EXTICED BY GETTING MONEY!! i HAF NOT BEEN WELL LATELY AND MY AUNT SAYS THAT SHE IS GOING TO HAVE TO GO LIVE WITH THE GYPKSYS IF WE DO NOT FIND A WAY TO GET MO RE MOENY COMIN G IN THE HOUSE. I HVAE NEVER MET A PRINCESS BEFORE, BUT i ALLWAYS KNEW THEY WOULD HAVE A LOT OF MONye LIKE pARRIS HILTON DOES. sHE'S PRETTY AND A PRINcESSS TWO!! just liKE YOU!

i HAVE TOLE EVERYONE YOU WILL SENT me som of your money wich is most gererlous of you. What country DO YOU COM FROM? IS IT ENGLAND ? !!! i HAVE SEE N PICTURESS OF YOUR MOTHRE THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND AND SHE DON'T LOOK TOO SMART BUT I ALWSYAS THOUGHT SHE HANDLED HER MOOENY BETTER THAN MOST BUT I GUESS NOT!! hHAHAAH! . MY AUNT SAY SHE THINKS YOUR PRINCESS ANNE GOT A RAW DEAL OUT OF LIFE. i CAN'ST SAY AS i AGREE WTIH HER OR NOT.

wHEN WILL MY MONEY COME HERE? iS IT GOING TO BE IN ENGLISH MONEY? i THINK WE HAVE TO UES AMERICAN MONEY SO IT MYGHT BE BETTER IF YOU SENDED TRAVELLERS CHECKS. wILL IT Be in a box or will you send a shoffered limosene with the monye in it. ? ANOTHER question is that I am very happy to see the moeny comin but how much should you THINK I SHOULD GIVE TO THE PASTOR!! HE SAYS WE SHOULD BE PROUD TO SUPPORT GODLY MIN AS THEY SPREAD THE WORLD OF GOD TO PEOPLE LIK E ME AND SOMETIMES GOD WANTS SOME PEOLE TO BE POOR SO PASTOR MIKE CAN COME MINISTER TO THEM. IF WE GET ALL THIS MONEY, I AM AFREAID HE WILL NOT COME MINISTER TO MY AUNT LIKE HES BEN ADOING. SHE LIKES HIM A HOLE LOT AN SPECIALLY WHEN THEY GO AND THE SPIRIT MOVES THEM TO MAKE PRAIZEFUL UTTERANCES IN THE BACK ROOM.

THANK YOU FOR YOU CONCERNS FOR US--WE ARE PORE BUT WE ARE NOT BAD pEPLE! so SEND US THAT BIG MOENY REIGHT AWAY!!!

come ON BIG MONYE!!!!

yOUR FRIND!!!

Now then, let's see how that turns out.

Nonetheless...

Motor Trend names Mercedes GL450 SUV of the year for 2007

Now, the Motor Trend awards aren't quite so much reflective of actual merit as they are of the power of dollars sprinkled out by various automakers' marketing departments. The amount of objectivity ebbs and flows over the years, but they have honored some real stinkers in the past, especially the string of "winners" in the '70s (via Wikipedia--1971 Chevrolet Vega, 1972 Citroën SM, 1973 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, 1974 Ford Mustang II, 1975 Chevrolet Monza 2+2, 1976 Dodge Aspen/Plymouth Volare, 1977 Chevrolet Caprice, 1978 Dodge Omni/Plymouth Horizon, 1979 Buick Riviera S, 1980 Chevrolet Citation, 1981 Dodge Aries/ Plymouth Reliant). Of course, you have to remember the span from 1971-1981 was something of a Dark Ages in automobiledom, but still, that's a pretty pitiful list of forgettables.

BUT, having said that, they have become a bit better over the past few years at recognizing actual merit, and this year they are not the only bunch of car writers who are recognizing the GL450 as a high-quality hunk of iron.

The only reason I mention THAT is that the national press has over the years continued to lay the faults of the previous generation M-class at the feet of the po' dumb ol' crackers down in Vance, Alabama who screw it together. As I've said before, you can't blame the workers for doing the best they could with what they were given to put together--the M-class was designed to sell at a much lower price than what most Mercedes customers usually pay, and as such it had several areas where cost-cutting were evident. But it would have been just as troublesome in service if it were built by ruddy-faced Germans in Stuttgart.

The new GL is built in the same plant, but it's a much more luxurious and less cheaply designed vehicle than the M-class, and it proves that given the right parts, the folks down in Tuscaloosa County can actually do quite well for themselves in putting together a darned nice car.

There Will Always Be An England

But only if they continue to make guys like this old chap:

Fighting spirit saves retiree from attack

BERLIN (Reuters) - A 70-year-old British pensioner, trained in martial arts during his military service, dispatched a gang of four would-be muggers in a late-night attack in Germany.

"Looks like he had everything under control," a police spokesman from the German town of Bielefeld said of the incident last Friday.

The man, a native of Birmingham who now lives in Germany, was challenged by three men, demanding money, while a fourth crept up behind him. Recalling his training, the Briton grabbed the first assailant and threw him over his shoulder.

When a second man tried to kick him, the pensioner grabbed his foot and tipped him to the ground. At this point, the three men, thought to be aged between 18 and 25, fled, carrying their injured accomplice with them.

The pensioner, whose name was not immediately available, suffered light abrasions.

I sorta have a bad feeling that had this happened in his country of birth, he would have been prosecuted for being so rough and uncivilized.

Anyway, hopefully the little dears who assaulted him will think twice before picking on someone else.

October 24, 1861

America gets smaller--today marks the anniversary of the completion of the United States' first transcontinental telegraph line. A reprint of an 1881 article in The Californian magazine detailing the construction and the first messages can be found here, and if you like stuff like this, it is a great read.

Also, a neat little Java applet that lets you type in a message and hear it replayed in Morse code.

Pretty neat stuff--no telling what you could do with electronic binary code.

GRR!

Good thing it's Tuesday, because after yesterday spent not blogging, it appears that I have a pile of COMMENT SPAM to get rid of this morning! @#&**!*%$

Darn this modern world and its woes!

You know what else? I've been taking Mucinex to loosen up the crud in my lungs and head, and it makes me smell funny. You know the effect you smell when you eat asparagus? Well, I've got that, except that instead of that weird asparaguspee smell, the closest thing I can say it smells like is someone cooking green beans with a piece of ham hock in the pot.

Yeah, I know, you'd think that would be a GOOD thing, but I find it highly disconcerting.

**&^!~?**

::shakes fist at minor inconveniences::

AND THUS, we take yet another opportunity to ignore the benefits of technology, freedom, and progress to complain about matters so inconsequential that they defy logic! Yes, it's Ticked Off Tuesday! Got a complaint? A problem? Just need to kvetch? Well, here's the place to get it off your chest. We ask only that you bridle your more base literary inclinations and indicate profanity, vulgarity, cursing, blasphemy, etc., by the use of the standard keyboard symbols such as ~!@, or #@@(, and/or *&^%.

SO, what's YOUR complaint?

You would think...

...that a whole day spent not blogging would be a bit more refreshing than it's turned out to be. Oh, sure--part of the problem is that I had to do work, and doing that really ruins a person's nonproductivity. I suppose tomorrow I'll take up blogging again so that I don't get out of practice. Just now I realized I haven't been the least bit sarcastic all day long, and that could be why I'm so tired.

Anyway, I guess I'll get back to it tomorrow. Thanks to all of you who allowed me to rest today.

Well, this is just terrible.

I just find out that Skinnydan just found out that his two year blogging anniversary happened last Thursday, and since I'm not blogging today, there's no way to mark the occasion!

I mean, if you make it to the two year mark, that's really a milestone, and now I'm gonna have to wait even longer before wishing him congratulations.

::sigh::

I'm going to have to not notblog anymore.

It's a shame, really.

Me, deciding to take the day off from blogging and all. Because when I do things like this, it means that when Steevil sends me a link to a really cool animated site on how to tie knots, well, everyone misses it. And that's a shame, because if anyone of you is a fisherman or a Scout or a rock climber or just need to know how to hold stuff down, you'll miss out on this valuable (and entertaining) information.

I may have to reconsider my self-imposed day of hibernation just so people will not be denied such important news.

Okay, where wasn't I?

Oh, yeah--fall festival.

One of the benefits of driving the truck is that no one bothers me, I've got a place to sit down, people like the hayride, and I can listen to the radio. I've mentioned before about the old Massey Ferguson tractor we used to have--it's a bit of a let down not to have a tractor pulling the trailer, but only for the passengers. Even a rusty twenty year old Isuzu beats sitting there breathing Diesel soot--and all without the benefit of a radio.

That was nice, in that I could listen to the game and not miss a minute of a lackluster game by Auburn. Once again, I am shamed by my lack of prescience in score prediction, but as has become the norm, every weak team they play seems to get an additional charge of emotion and they always play much better than anyone anticipates. Oh well--a win's a win, I suppose.

We left a bit earlier than usual so we could get back and finish cleaning up, which we did, and then I had to make a run to the store for some floor washing junk and a new sponge for the sponge mop. Catherine wanted to help mop, and I WANTED her to do something, but she's not able to handle big yarn mop, so I figured (since the floor wasn't nearly as dirty as it was the last time) to equip her with something a bit more her speed.

Got home and after I moved the chairs to the den and cleaned around the more difficult areas, she came padding along and begged to help. Seldom do any of the kids beg to help.

So, she scrubbed and wiggled and actually did a pretty darned good job of it. Even more incredible was when she later got one of the cookies we'd baked and carefully brought it over to the sink to eat it "so I won't get crumbs on my floor I just mopped."

I could have cried tears of joy--FINALLY one of them understands where MESSES come from!

To bed with us all, then back up Sunday. Off to church, good class and good sermon, then quickly back to the house to brace for the onslaught of...

two kids.

Same two as last time--we had a bunch of people gone visiting again, and so we have a bunch of leftovers. Not that I mind. And again, not that I mind not having the house wrecked by some of the more destructive little angels we know. Thought we were gonna lose the cat, though. He climbed up on our backdoor neighbor's fence, and the kids were all out there and I figured he was going to jump down into their yard, and then we'd have to go knock on their door and create a disturbance. Luckily, he didn't run away when I got on the scene to take control, so I scooped him up and put him back in his house while the kids ran around getting their church clothes messed up.

After they all left, we put things away and I got to take a nap of about ten minutes. Unfortunately, it was not ten contiguous seconds, but rather dribs and drabs of minutes or two at a time.

Folded more clothes, then got ready to go back to church again. Rebecca and Catherine are both taking a little class on saying Bible verses in Spanish, so after that was over they were jabbering away in something that sounded only vaguely Romantic. In fact, it was only slightly Indo-European. But it's nice that they're enthusiastic about it, and Rebecca has a friend from school who's bilingual so she's going to get her to help.

Evening worship, then home for some lunch leftovers, and then I absolutely crashed. I couldn't stay awake for anything. I don't know if it's the crud in my lungs or what, but it was like I had been given general anesthesia.

And I still felt that way this morning, which again is why I decided not to bother with blogging today and just take it easy.

Silly me!

I erased a bit of code when I posted my quote of the week, and it messed EVERYthing up. And here I thought some interloper had messed me up.

ANYway, I got up this morning and decided I was going to take a day off from blogging. I felt like garbage. Immense fatigue, head feeling as dense as a bowling ball--blech.

Why am I at work then? To be able to get some rest, I guess.

Anyway, I'm gonna take a day off, so you won't get to hear about cleaning house Saturday. It actually went pretty well, since it was still more or less picked up from last month. I did do something I haven't done in ages, though.

I fell.

I have always prided myself on a certain Jackie Gleason-esque lightness of foot, which frankly is lacking in so many men of heft such as myself. Raymond Burr had it, John Goodman has a bit of it, John Candy didn't. Some fat guys move like fat guys, and others of us have something of a soap bubble quality.

SO, imagine my surprise when I was bringing the (evil) vacuum cleaner (Satan's own appliance) through the kitchen and somehow managed to get the power cord caught in betwixt the toes of my left foot while I was in mid stride. I couldn't get my foot untangled fast enough to keep from pitching forward, falling in slow motion much like a giant redwood.

After landing, hard, on the kitchen floor (which is a layer of sheet vinyl flooring laid over concrete), I lay there a moment to collect my thoughts and ask for damage control reports from other parts of the ship. The right knee reported pain and discomfort, but otherwise was still operable. The right shoulder/arm/wrist complex reported a sharp smarting sensation, but again, able to get underway. The head reported looking under the stove and seeing a dustbunny that needed to be gotten out. Actually, more of a dust boa constrictor. The other parts of the body overruled the head and agreed to get up and go finish vacuuming if the head would just forget about the dust under the stove.

Danged vacuum cleaner.

Anyway, the house got cleaned up pretty well, and we had our fall festival at church, but I can't tell you about that because I've decided, as I said, to take a day and not worry about blogging.

Although, I have to say, Saturday would have been an even better day to not do anything, because it was just beautiful--today's bright and sunny, but sort of chilly, but Saturday afternoon was perfect. We had all the stuff set up out in the parking lot this year, mainly because the kids tend to track hay into the building and spill stuff. Much better to do that in the parking lot. AND as in years past, I got to drive the hay ride. We used one of our member's old 4WD Isuzu P'up, which has a certain agricultural charm to it. Never heard a gasoline engine that sounded quite so much like a Diesel.

Quite fun.

Well, I have to go to staff meeting now. Be back in just a bit to tell you what all else I won't be blogging about today since I'm taking the day off.

Hmm.

Something's wrong with my template. Don't know what's going on with that.

Psh. Figures, don't it?

Well, let's see--

--laundry, heavy-duty housecleaning, fall festival at church tomorrow (I get to drive the hay ride truck!), little-church-kid's luncheon and Bible study at the house for the SECOND month in a row on Sunday, and all I want to do is go home and go to bed and sleep.

I don't think I'll get to do that.

But at least no yardwork! It's too soggy, for one thing, and the grass weeds isn't aren't growing that fast, for another. And I'm lazy, too.

ANYway, all of you have a great weekend and come back around Monday sometime and see if I manage to keep all the plates spinning on their respective sticks.

I bet Mr. Toad must be overjoyed.

Global warming study predicts wild ride

(Speaking of which...)

Y'know...

Woman claims to find finger in sandwich

...doncha think fingers are just a little passé?

OH, by the way--did you hear about the butcher who backed into the slicer and got a little behind in his work?

That joke always makes me laugh.

Operative Word -- "Again"

Man with mannequin fetish arrested again

In case I ever get to be an aging movie star...

...please slap me if I start saying stuff like this: Ford says he's fit to play Indiana Jones.

ROME - Harrison Ford says he feels "fit to continue" to play Indiana Jones despite growing older.

Ford, 64, said at the inaugural Rome Film Festival on Friday that he was delighted to team up again with directors Steven Spielberg and George Lucas for the film. Lucas co-wrote and executive produced the earlier films, which Spielberg directed.

"We did three films that stay within the same block of time. We need to move on for artistic reasons and obvious physical reasons," Ford said at a news conference. "I feel fit to continue and bring the same physical action." [...]

Ford played Indiana Jones in 1981's "Raiders of the Lost Ark," 1984's "Temple of Doom" and 1989's "The Last Crusade." In the last film, Jones' father was played by Sean Connery, who Ford said might also appear in the planned fourth feature. [...]

Something to ponder--Sean Connery was born in 1930. In 1989, he was 59 years old. Five years younger then, than Ford is now.

Sorry, dude. Despite your affectation of an ear piercing and having the attention of a (much) younger (yet equally creepy) companion-waif, you're not fooling anyone.

Is that the surf I hear?!

Maybe!

Let's swing open the barn door and kickoff this week's episode of Possumblog Sports Center and find out!

The almost-undefeated, 8th-ranked Tigers of Auburn University (#4 BCS, 6-1 overall, 4-1 SEC) return to the verdant Plains this week after hosting last week's whim-doozy, action-packed, night-and-day, Jeckyl-and-Hyde, yin-yang, chocolate in my peanut butter, 27-17 victory over the Florida Gators. For once, I'm glad this is the Most Inaccurate Sports Show on the Internet, as I had predicted only a one-point victory, and they managed to give me 10.

BUT THE OUTCOME WAS NOT SO CLEAR during a lackluster first half of play. The second half, though, sir! THAT was the way Auburn can play, and should play. I realize the offense didn't score any touchdowns, but neither did they give up. They were able to move the ball, and they finally did start blocking. Still far too many sacks of po' ol' cripple Brandon Cox, but after that half-time come-to-Jesus meeting the coaches had, the boys seem to have regained their focus.

WHICH MIGHT JUST BE WASHED AWAY by the Green Wave of Tulane!

Believe it or not, in the 36 times the two opponents have met, Tulane has bettered Auburn 17 times, and the last time they played, the Tigers got drowneded by a score of 27-13! The date of that game?

October 29, 1955.

Yep, it's been 51 years since the two schools met to contest control of the prolate spheroid of porcine epidermis, even longer than it's been since Auburn won a national championship, and much has changed in that time. Helmets have face masks, there are no more tie games, there's instant replay referreeing, and Auburn has growed like Topsy. Tulane is a fine school, but one that is still devoted to educating doctors and lawyers rather than ballplay, and at about half the enrollment of AU, and the fact that this is Homecoming, you pretty much have to figure they now find themselves at a disadvantage.

Then again, you might be wrong.

As is so often the case, smaller colleges want to knock off the big guy, and sometimes the big guy is looking beyond to something on down the road, especially if he just got through playing a tough game against a more sizable opponent. Auburn seems to be especially fond of playing like this, as witnessed by the closer-than-the-score-indicated game against Buffalo. The Buffs came to play, and I think the Wave will likewise step onto Pat Dye Field looking for some redemption from an otherwise lackluster season.

And they might do it, at least for a play or two.

But Auburn is too heavy with talent, and those talents finally seem to be coming to life and realizing that they must play every game with the same intensity that they played in the second half against Florida. The final score might not be that high, because as was the plan with Buffalo, Coach Tuberville will be wanting to swap in some second and third stringers so they can get some playing time, but those boys will be working just as hard as the starters.

As with the rest of the season, the defense and special teams have toted the load, and they should do so again tomorrow, although the kicking and punting squads probably won't be required to score as many points this time. I still am mystified as to the reason the offensive front seems so porous, but QB Cox has been called out a couple of times by Tuberville for holding onto the ball a bit too long trying to make things happen. Unfortunately, the thing happening more often than not is him looking at a faceful of turf and trying to hold onto the ball. Still, if they play like they have the potential of playing, look for a lot of Kenny Irons touchdowns.

Bright spots for Tulane? Well, Tulane does have cheerleaders, and they have a lot of interesting things to say on their (sorry, but highly unattractive and kludgy and slow-loading) website. I will say that several of the guys seem a bit preoccupied with being pirates or ninjas together. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But it's another reason why guys need to just sorta be in the background.

Can't complain too much, though, as the AU cheer site is still highly ungood. ::sigh:: Thank goodness the Tiger Paws have updated theirs! THAT'S THE SPIRIT!!

SO THEN, having exhaustively looked at all the angles and theories, we wind up here and get ready to produce the Prediction of Final Outcome! After consulting the Book of Facts and Figures and staring mindlessly at a pile of pencil shavings in the trash, I am now prepared to say that the final score will be....

AUBURN 42 -- TULANE 3

Game time is 1:30 p.m. Central, with coverage via YOUR Auburn Radio Network.

BUT WAIT, THAT'S NOT ALL!!

Surely you know that we cannot let another moment go by without taking a moment to honor those athletes who compete just as hard in the classroom as they do on the field of play! That's right--time for Week 7 of The Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week.

As a resident of Trussville, I know all of us are excited whenever we get to hear Brandon Cox's name called out, since he is a hometown boy and went to school at Hewitt-Trussville High, where, just as at Auburn, he excelled in the classroom and on the football field.

BUT, he's not the ONLY rough-and-tumble H-T Husky to go on to bigger and better things in the Loveliest Village! Today we honor ANOTHER stout Trussvillite, Jennifer Jordan, a petite 21 year old junior Animal and Dairy Science major who competes on the Varsity Equestrian National Championship team in the hunt seat event. A Top Tiger in the '04-'05 season (for her community service work), she is also listed on the SEC Spring Honor Roll, and judging by her current bio, something of a fan of Nietzsche. Which is a slight change from her freshman bio, when she was more of a Van Zantian.

SO CONGRATULATIONS, Jennifer, on being the PSAotW!

Well, I'll be.

You might recall my recent nano-controversy (or micro-kerfuffle, as I said here, and the initial story was here) about Tiny Terror's computer teacher setting all of her young charges up with Yahoo! e-mail accounts.

My beef at the time was the teacher seemed not really to understand such things should be done with the parents' permission, and that she was definitely NOT any child's legal guardian, and further that Yahoo! is adult-oriented. It's much too easy to find unkidfriendly content on the various Personals sites, and that should have been pretty obvious up front.

Well, I wrote a nice note to everyone (teacher, computer teacher, principal, school tech guy), and although I did get a response from the computer teacher, I never really felt as though I got any sort of acknowledgement that yes, maybe things could have been done a bit better so as to avoid all this. I realize they get calls and letters from cranks all the time--I've been on two different private school boards of trustees and Miss Reba ran a daycare at a school, so I know cranks--but it would have been nice (since I was nice and calm and not the least bit crankish) to have had some sense that SOMEthing would be done differently in the future.

I let it slide, although it still nagged at me a bit, but then while I was rummaging through Cat's backpack last night taking out all the wads of paper, I found an interesting note from the computer teacher:

Exciting things are happening in [the school's] computer lab! Students are setting up personal email accounts through Gaggle.net, a kid-friendly email site. This is a school-oriented email service in which teachers monitor content. Before activating an account for [the school], Gaggle verified that we were a functioning school and I was a certified teacher. [Explanation of the classwork to be done] We began our lessons using Yahoo email accounts. However, it was discovered that access to unsuitable content wa a possibility on Yahoo sites. [Emphasis mine] All Yahoo accounts that were established have been cancelled and will no longer be accessible. [Remainder of letter lectures parents on Internet security for their kids]

Well, how about that.

Still, I am not undissatisfied.

Mainly it was the tone--the passive voice "it was discovered" makes it sound as though it wasn't bloody obvious from the start that SOMEONE herself wasn't quite up to speed on the pitfalls associated with the Internet, and then the remainder of the letter's wording was just a bit off-putting. I know some parents don't know these things, but the teacher obviously didn't seem to understand them, either. It would have been nice to not act so uppity about it and admit that the whole thing was a learning process for EVERYone involved.

Reminds me of an old bit that I believe was told by Jerry Clower--there was a fellow who liked to tell everyone how smart he was, and one day he was with a bunch of guys watching a man make horseshoes. He picked up one that was still hot and burned his hand and dropped it suddenly, and the guys started picking on him and asking him if it was hot. "Naw--I just didn't want to look at it that long."

Anyway, I'm glad they did decide to do something, and I'm satisfied about what they did do, and hopefully the kids will learn a little something. And hopefully the adults will learn that until they run that horseshoe down in the water bucket it's best not to grab on to it.

I always enjoy his Q & A sessions...

...but I think you'll like this post by Dean Barnett even more than one of those.

A minute of your time, please.

Nate's mama is in the hospital after having a heart attack yesterday. Whether you're of the praying sort or not, I know he would appreciate the attention of your thoughts to her and to their family right now.

Did I mention...

...that my lungs are filled with rubber cement?

I hate it when that happens. But for the past week, I've had a bout of consumption (or something even more dreadly), and whatever it is has settled deep in my chest where it gnaws at me--particularly at night. Meaning that I'm either drowsy this morning because of the lack of sleep, or because of the expectorant/decongestant/cough suppressant/dessert topping/floor wax that I took. Or, it could be that big warm mug of paregoric.

KITTY!

(See? I told you so.)

ANYWAY, as a further attempt to emulate the popular blogging kids through the avenue of catblogging, it's once again time to present to you LIGHTNING, the World's Most Expensive Free Kitten!

(Once more, Munu seems to be having problems with the photo file formating, so I'm having to use Photobucket, which may or may not have a way to make thumbnails, but if it does, I don't know how to use that feature, meaning that I'm going to put the pictures below the jump so the page will load faster. GRR!)

He was in rare form this morning--the chill in the air seems to have brought out the wildness in him. Although domestication does have its benefits, such as regular meals.

While I was bothering him while eating, he decided to pounce on the camera--

--then run wildly around the patio before pausing to see what was out in the darkness. It's about impossible to get a shot of him that looks aloof and regal like a cat should look--he's too busy running around as fast as possible.

Silly cat.

OKAY!

I KNOW! It's just that I'm harried this morning! But the Kitty pictures are coming!

Short Day?

Well, yes. Gotta go pick up the kids from school this afternoon as well as a bunch of junk that Jonathan sold to people during the recent band fundraiser. Some of which requires immediate refrigeration, I think.

SO, off to that side of town. But don't worry, there's still plenty to do around here. Such as, oh, blowing stuff up real good! Nate McCord sent me this extraordinary link to something that looks like a real-life version of an Elmer Fudd cartoon.

Not sure of the exacts on this one, but photo number 4 looks to be a collimator, a doohickey you place in the end of the barrel when you're first adjusting the scope. As tempting as it might be, allowing the device to STAY in the muzzle is a bad thing if you want bullets to come out. Or, at least, come out without peeling your barrel apart. Or your scalp.

Anyway, be safe out there, and come on back tomorrow and let's see what sort of fun we can have.

October 19, 1781

A pretty good day, unless your last name happens to be Cornwallis:

On October 19, 1781, British General Charles Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, giving up almost 8000 men and any chance of winning the Revolutionary War. Cornwallis had marched his army into the Virginia port town earlier that summer expecting to meet British ships sent from New York. The ships never arrived.

In early October, some 17,000 American and French troops led by Generals George Washington and Jean-Baptiste Rochambeau surrounded British-occupied Yorktown. Off the coast, French Admiral François de Grasse strategically positioned his naval fleet to control access to the town via the Chesapeake Bay and the York River.

The Franco-American siege exhausted the British army's supplies of food and ammunition. With no hope for escape, Cornwallis agreed to the terms of Washington's Articles of Capitulation, signing the document at Moore House on October 19. Hours after the surrender, the general's defeated troops marched out of Yorktown to the tune "The World Turned Upside Down." [...]

Just remember, if the British had won, you'd probably have to be reading Possumblog in English.

Lunch?

No, I have to go cover the front desk while our lone remaining secretary goes to lunch. Be back after while.

I realize...

...that this isn't Angryfied Tuesday, but dadgummit, The Guy Who Burns Toast did it AGAIN. And this time he had little thin grubby split sausage links on the toast.

I never really take notice of people who walk by in the hallway, and so he manages to sneak by and load up the toaster oven outside the door with combustibles (thankfully, no paper--lately), and then he LEAVES. Goes shuffling to the bathroom (he's advanced in years and has numerous health problems, meaning both locomotion and peeing take forever), then he comes back after the flames have died down, seemingly astonished that his toast burnt.

I caught a whiff of scorch and before I could get up and run out to the hallway, there were already gray curls of smoke coming up out of the toaster. I opened it up then shut off the timer/power switch, but by then, the unpleasant smell of incineration was all over the entire floor.

"Whew!" he said, as he gathered his meal and walked back to his office.

Yeah, you could say that.

Why, that's just inconceivable!

Study: Anti-aging supplements don't work

Color me shocked.

You know, I understand why someone would think this would actually have to be tested, but the people who already know that life is a terminal disease will, like me, just scoff and wonder why someone had to spend money to find this out, whereas the people who swear by these things can't be convinced by something so silly as science.

Thankfully, I have a way of helping everyone--I have discovered that if you give me any spare change in your wallets, billfolds, purses, or desk drawers, you will feel years younger. I guarantee it, or your money back. So send me your money, and feel better TODAY!!

Sure, I might not live any longer, but with all this influx of cash, I sure will be able to live more comfortably!

Maybe I'm just overreacting.

That's possible, you know.

But I simply must say ARRRRGHHHHHAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!

They've gone and done it AGAIN!

Auburn teacher wins $25 grand from Milken Foundation

STUPID AP HEADLINE WRITER!! STOP PUTTING GRAND IN THE HEADLINE!!

Look, you can see that and think someone misspelled "grant" and wonder why anyone would care about a twenty-five dollar grant. Or you can read it as "twenty five dollars grand". BUT IF YOU MEAN TO SAY TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS, WRITE "$25,000"! If you can't bring yourself to write that, just write "25-grand" BUT LEAVE OUT THE DOLLAR SIGN!

I figure this must be some sort of vast journalistic conspiracy designed to drive me even more insane. Sorta like the way George Bush says "Internets" and "nucular" to make the lefties come unglued.

Then again, as folks say, never ascribe to malice what can more easily be blamed on ignorance.

Mailout Thursday

I usually have this a bit more in hand by this time of the morning, but I need to take a moment and get the folding, spindling, and mutilating done, and then afterwards I'll be able to come out and play some more.

Kashruth Alert!

Via Skinnydan, an urgent notice (see alert dated October 18):

Pocahontas Pork and Beans in Tomato Sauce

Brands: Pocahontas

Products: Pork and Beans in Tomato Sauce- Food Service (#10 can)

Company: Progressive Group Alliance Inc.

Issue: This product mistakenly bears an unauthorized symbol. The product is being withdrawn from the marketplace.

You know, I kinda have a sense that if you do keep kosher, you're probably gonna avoid anything with "pork" on the label. Or in the can.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, I am still working hard on developing a kosher corndog-- kosher hot dog, cornbread made with soy milk, and deep fried in corn oil. Now if I could just figure a way to get kosher certification for manatees....

Well, what do you know about THAT!!

I was trying to get out the door this morning and the teevee was on and the local NBC affiliate's Today show clone was on and WHO did they have on as a special guest?

WENDY GARNER! Well, Ken Lass was on there, too, but I don't enjoy looking at him nearly so much. It was quite a pleasant shock to see that the NBC drones thought they might bring them back (in their radio DJ guise) for a guest segment, seeing as how they dumped Wendy and Ken to bring in a new clutch of anchors.

Which I'm still angry about.

Not that you can tell.

ANYway, it was so nice to see Miss Wendy on the tube again--one of these days when PossumblogTV is finally on the air, I'm going to hire her to be the news anchor.

I sure hope she'll work for free.

Why, if this is Thursday…

…that must mean it’s time for The Axis of Weevil Thursday Three! ::restrained applause::

We’ve covered so much together over the years that coming up with new and interesting questions to ask is something of a difficulty.

Okay, well, so that’s not true.

Thank goodness for such an excuse, though, because it leads us right into this batch of questions. Today we’ll be dealing with those things we tell ourselves in order to keep from doing what we should be doing. Take a moment to answer the questions below, either in the comments or by leaving a link to your blog, and tell us, please:

1) What is your favorite all-around go-to excuse for not doing things that you really just don’t want to do?

2) Is this excuse a one-size-fits-all sort of thing, or do you have one set of excuses for work, and another for social situations?

3) What is one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard?

There now--if it’s not too much trouble, or if you’re not having to go wash your hair, or if you don’t have a roast in the oven--take a minute or two and fill us in on your answers. As always, the game is open to everyone, so no excuses for not playing.

AS FOR MY ANSWERS…

1) Generally it’s either wife, kids, or wife/kids. Which is not only my excuse for NOT doing the things I DON’T want to do, it’s also the thing that usually KEEPS me from doing the things I WANT to do. Not that I don’t love them all dearly, because I do, but when a person’s ideas of “fun things to do” drift toward the dangerous, grubby, or a combination of the two, there’s not really a good way of including the family in that.

2) No--my work excuse is that I’m busy. This works as an excuse due to a finely-honed ability to appear harried. Part of the success of this ability is actually being harried. It also helps to have a well-established understanding of the best time to go to the restroom, to always be seen carrying Important Things, and walking as if I had somewhere to be. My other favorite excuse is, “I forgot.” Again, convenient, in that I actually am forgetful.

3) Oh, I hear so many, but one of the more comical ones was one offered by the girl from whom My Friend Jeff bought his family’s previous house several years ago. He’d asked me to go with him to look it over, and I pointed out the doors on a couple of the kitchen cabinets had some areas where the door stiles had separated. The homeowner's excuse? “Uhm, well, those doors close together so tightly that it’s made the wood separate.” Gosh, just like global warming makes the earth colder! Anyway, that was pretty lame--it was obvious they’d just warped a bit--it DOES happen, after all--no use to try to pretend any different.

So, there you go.

Well, that should do it.

What say tomorrow we do something special, it being Thursday and all?

Irony beaten to death, Republicans blamed.

Clinton urges Dems to question criticism

But, I thought dissent was the highest form of patriotism. So, like, the more you disagree with someone, the more you love them, right? Sure!

Now then, time for the pap and twaddle:

By PHILIP ELLIOTT

The Associated Press

WASHINGTON (AP) — Former President Clinton bemoaned ideologues who describe opponents as "running for office on his or her way to hell" and urged Democrats not to shy from fighting back.

Clinton, criticizing Republicans weeks before the midterm elections, told an audience at Georgetown University on Wednesday that intellectual debate should trump partisan rancor and either-or choices are false.

"Most of us long for politics where we have genuine arguments, vigorous disagreements but we don't claim to have the whole truth and we don't demonize our opponents and we work for what's best for the American people," he said.

Well said from someone who once had to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I've said it before, it's worth repeating--never allow yourself to be lectured about veracity by someone who doesn't believe in the concept of absolute truths. Because, let's face it--if we can't agree on a common truth, then his point of view is no more or less valid than any evil stupid baby-eating Rethuglican's view. All the same, in the end, right? Sure!

Clinton, whose wife Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, D-N.Y., is eyeing a 2008 White House run, spoke at his alma mater to mark the 15th anniversary of his series of speeches there as a then-fledgling presidential candidate. The former president gave notice that Democrats would not be passive victims of attacks.

One is led to assume from recent events that this means that they should out as many gay Republicans as possible. Because, well, they just should.

"This is a contact sport, politics," he said. "You can't complain about being attacked. It's like Yao Ming complaining about being fouled playing basketball."

Well, not quite--hard to tell what he's actually saying here, but the idea seems to be that Democrats have been being pummelled, but that it's all part of the game, so they should just shut up and take it, or, maybe should dish it back out, or not. But still, it does my heart good to see he still has snuggly warm feelings for the Chinese--they give us a wonderful basketball player AND great wads of campaign cash!

Clinton said he doesn't see Democrats shying from the debate.

"It's not that we want a bland, mushy, meaningless politics," he said. "We like our debate. ... We understand that campaigns will be heated and only one side can win. [...]

Translation: "Only one side SHOULD win, and if it doesn't, we'll sue." And by the way, isn't the fact that one side wins and the other one loses DIVISIVE!? ::crashing piano music:: HE'S A DIVIDER, NOT A UNITER!! But that's okay.

Clinton also argued that the GOP has allowed its conservative element to drown out moderate voices.


"The ideological, right-wing element of the Republican Party has been building strength, partly in reaction to things that happened 40 years ago — Barry Goldwater's defeat, the excess of the '60s, Ronald Reagan's election" he said.

Thank goodness the Democratic Party doesn't have any idealogical, left-wing elements that has been building strength, partly in reaction to things that happened (not quite) 40 years ago--McGovern's defeat, the excess of the '60s, Ronald Reagan's election...

"But this is the first time on a consistent basis, the most conservative, the most ideological wing of the Republican Party has had both the executive and legislative branches with a very distinct governing philosophy and very distinct political philosophy."

Thankfully, there is no true right-or-wrong distinction that can be made between this time and the previous bright times in our history when the Democrats ran things, or else we might be able to judge those mean old foulers by that scale. So, hey, whatever, right? Sure!

He said the United States' effort to develop new weapons and cut taxes undercut the moral arguments.

Well, you know, morality has some basis in the idea of universal truths, and that's such a confining construct, isn't it?

Anyway, I'm all for new weapons and lower taxes.

"They favor unilateralism whenever possible and cooperation when it is inevitable," Clinton said without specifically mentioning members of the Bush administration.

"They favor unilateralism whenever possible and cooperation when it is inevitable." Hey, that's not a bug, that's a feature! Because believe it or not, it's not necessarily a bad thing to look out after your own interests first. Aside from that, what's the deal with the reporter saying he didn't specifically mention members of the Bush Administration? Who should we think he's talking about, Martians!?

Anyway, to cap things off:

"The problem with ideology is, if you've got an ideology, you've already got your mind made up. You know all the answers and that makes evidence irrelevant and arguments a waste of time. You tend to govern by assertion and attacks."

Said without the slightest hint of playful irony!

Just remember friends, if you don't believe in something, you'll fall for anything.

High Culture.

You know, when people look disdainfully upon me for my unsophisticated manners and my dwelling place made amongst the savages of Flyover Country, I used to despair at my plight.

But now, I can no longer be ashamed!

It has come to my attention that I live in as cultured and refined a locale as anyone else, as witnessed by the fact that one of our local theatre (note the hifalutin transposition of letters that mark me as a man of learning) companies will be performing this: BAT BOY - THE MUSICAL.

Take that, snobs and swells!

(And for the story behind the story, this.)

Questions?

ANSWERS!

Why?

Because look who just walked in the door!

Yes, once more we've been blessed with an appearance by Dr. Possum, the Internets's one and only prehensile-tailed genius. Stopping by on his way to have his andirons polished, Dr. Possum has graciously agreed to spend a few moments with us so that you may ask him about your various aches, pains, and medical conditions. This, despite the fact that Dr. Possum eschews the formality of such societal constraints as having a license, or a doctorate degree. Yet, with his tousled mane of bristly gray hair, he looks authoritative enough to be of service, if you can't rush out and find someone who actually knows something.

SO, if you have a query regarding an ache, pain, irritation, tenderness, swelling, lump, bump, bruise, contusion, abrasion, or need information about rebuilding a 1970 GM Quadrajet carburetor, please take a moment and leave your question in the comments below, as we begin our latest round of Ask Dr. Possum!

Discaimer: What, are you CRAZY!? Don't EVER ask a possum for advice!!

(Although, I would have recommended this guy be a bit more careful in laying shingles.)

In the immortal words...

...of Tim Blair, "CBS knows all about deliberate manipulation intended to effect elections."

(In reference to this story from the Fake But Accurate Factory.)

You know, one of the things that has made blogging so tiresome in the past few years is the hardheadedness of the old-line media types. This is a perfectly legitimate story--the idea that people might think that HallibushitlerRoveCo have a magic X-Box console where they play with oil prices is out there. It is espoused out of ignorance, and occasionally malice. In the latter case, it's best ignored, but in the former case it is the result of a pitiable lack of understanding of even the most basic ideas of economics. And logic. Why not frame the story in such a way that addresses these myths and dispels them, rather than further clouding the matter with tactics such as using unscientific polling results, along with a barely concealed politically-driven agenda? I keep hearing lofty words from the press type folks who say they only have the Truth at heart; well, why not put that into practice and attempt--at least every once in a while--to actually give readers something worthwhile?

Either that, or start giving the Flat Earth people some more time to talk.

In the end, it comes down to the fact you've got the ignorant interviewing the ignorant.

My suggestion?

I think it's high time that this country devotes its abundance of resources to developing schools where people can go who want to become journalists. And not just any schools, but maybe even something on a college level, where they'll have to take other classes with other students in subjects such as mathematics and history and ethics and economics and language and science!

We could call them "journalism schools."

Nice ring to it, eh?

And just think of the promise offered by such an education if newspapers and electronic media organizations would actually start hiring people like this--people who know the difference between "deficit" and "debt," people who know what a "fallacy" is. I know, it boggles the mind to think of such things, but I promise you, it's not nearly as crazy as half the conspiracy theories you read about.

Well, now...

...I've been incommunicado for so long, I have no idea what to talk about!

How about this--the ol' hometown has spiffed up their website! The older version wasn't really bad, but it did look a bit tired and some of the information was outdated. The new one is actually very nice and easy to read, and wonder of wonders, doesn't use Flash or any other of your various inappropriate animation, yet is spiffy enough that it looks almost 21st Century-ish. Nice and neat and very well done. Nice photos, too.

Politics? Whew--been a while since I actually said anything that rose above mild mockery, but I know if you read my blogroll, there seems to be a lot of talk about conservative sorts making Republicans "pay" for acting like Democrats. Now call me crazy, but if you don't like the Democrats and their silly ways, finding a way to get them into power seems counterproductive. Something like cutting your nose off, then your entire head, to spite your face, which, for good measure, you decide to also kick. Yes, they've not been true to their stated goals, but is that worse than having the Party of Fecklessness in power? Sure, the world won't end (probably) if the Democrats are put in control, but here's the deal, if you're trying to teach someone a lesson--YOU DON'T HURT YOURSELF (i.e., ME!) IN THE PROCESS! Whatever happened to just beating them with a cane? That way you get the satisfaction of teaching them a lesson, and yet the stupid people are still a minority party. And hey, beat them with a cane, too, while you're at it, but just remember the idea is to NOT PUNISH YOURSELF (i.e., ME!) for the misdeeds of others.

Just remember, although there may be plenty of Democrats who talk conservative, they are beholden to the national party, which, believe it or not, isn't conservative. You might get yourself a nice conservative Dem as a Congressperson (i.e., convict-in-training), but that only means all the howling loons who actually run the party get to get themselves all the cush committee seats and chairmanships. Your guy just gets left standing around with his hands in his pockets. In local offices, even governorships--indulge your "punish 'em" fantasies all you want--kick out all the Republicans you want. But don't think that doing that on a national level is going to get you what you think it will. [UPDATE: Related take on things via Betsy Newmark (1st Update), and Kim du Toit (2nd Update).]

Lunacy? Hey, if you must ask, here's a nice story from the Land of Kennedy: Not it! Mass. elementary school bans tag

ATTLEBORO, Mass. (AP) — Tag, you're out! Officials at an elementary school south of Boston have banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable.

Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban. [...]

Thank heavens. And it makes sense, too, since we've decided school is no longer a time when education can happen. Again, you folks do whatever you want to locally, but let me tell you, this type of nonsense doesn't translate well into either real life or international relations.

Speaking of which, someone who NEEDED to run and play at recess a bit more, Dear Brother Leader hits the airwaves: Kim makes 1st appearance since nuke test. Like a groundhog, ain't he?

By JAE-SOON CHANG

The Associated Press

SEOUL, South Korea (AP) — North Korean leader Kim Jong Il made his first known public appearance since his nation's nuclear test, official media reported Wednesday, amid concerns that the regime was readying a second detonation.

Kim, accompanied by top Communist Party officials and military officers, attended a performance of songs praising him, the official Korean Central News Agency reported.

The exact date of the performance was not specified, but Kim most likely attended the event Tuesday evening on the 80th anniversary of the "Down-with-Imperialism Union" — a political platform on which the ruling party was built. [...]

Golly, that sounds like fun. And you know, when your people can't find food, it's nice to take their minds off of it with joyous hymns to the evils of running dog Yankee gangsterism. Especially if you can maybe get Jimmy Carter to sing tenor.

NOW THEN, off to find more stuff to talk about.

Well, good MORNING!

Looks like today is going to be much more open for playtime, although that is always subject to change.

Honor to whom honor is due.

(AND it's Uptight Tuesday, Too!)

Back now, but only briefly, in that I suddenly have a kabillion different things I have to get done today. I felt compelled to check in, though, just to let you know I didn't get run over by a log truck or something. AND to brag a bit, in that Oldest was inducted into the National Honor Society this morning, so Reba and I went to the school for the ceremony. Very nice, but I think if I see another girl sashaying along working a piece of chewing gum like a mule eating peanut butter, I will scream.

::hitching thumbs into beltloops::

WHY, BACK IN MY DAY, there weren't no GUM CHEWING in school! PERIOD! You got caught with gum, they'd tie you to a stump and beat you with broom handles, then make you go around school scraping up gum and then make you EAT it all. And when you got sick, you had to clean that up, too!

&^^%*$!

It really does make me wonder--I've read the rulebook and I know they aren't supposed to be chewing gum, but more than that, the whole open-mouthed-smacking-hunched-shoulder look would seem to belie a person's supposed smartypants status. And since appearance seems to count for so much in high school, it just seems odd that this particular affectation would be so prevalent.

Makes you wonder about kids.

Until you look around the bleachers and you see that the apple doesn't slouch far from the tree. So, obviously, the only thing this can mean is that I'm the abnormal one. Therefore, I intend to pull my pants down to my butt crack, walk around with my jaw appropriately slackened, and wear a backwards baseball cap plastered down to my head.

Yes, I know--"An improvement!"

Anyway, it was nice to see her recognized for her good schoolwork. It's almost enough to make one overlook the disaster area that is her bedroom. Almost.

BUT NO MATTER--I have things to get done now and for the rest of the day, so maybe we can get back at this whole blogging biz tomorrow.

IN THE MEAN TIME, since I have kicked off another episode of Troubled Tuesday, if YOU have a particular beef or gripe or angriness or peeve or nit to pick, please feel free to take a moment and give them voice in the comments section. As is our custom, we ask you to refrain from outright vulgarities and expletive-laden diatribes, and instead use the more genteel &^$$!@~ or **&&^$>? in order to keep from scaring the horses.

SO, have at it, and I'll see you sometime later on in the day when I can take a break.

Thank goodness for people with a memory!

Just got a call from Miss Reba reminding me of an appointment we have tomorrow morning, meaning that tomorrow morning's first post will be later than usual, and could even be considered a late-morning post.

HEY!

Would you look at that!

Congratulations to the happy family!

I know, I know...

...I shouldn't be so hard on people who write for a living, but still:

Democrats favired when economy uncertain

OH, and from the "No WAY!" File: Lamont criticizes Lieberman in debate. I mean, what are the odds of THAT!?

Also from the Land of Obvious: Texting a powerful tool for good or ill. Or not.

Finally, anyone care to wager when someone starts blaming this: Hawaii quake blame on volcanic stress on a) global warming, or b) George Bush?

Fortune Cookie Wisdom of the Day!

Wow--what a difference a day can make. Yesterday was so clement, and today is so not clement. Ugly sky, swirling wind, damp, and just a little too chilly to wander around in shirtsleeves. Maybe if I'd worn the rest of the shirt...

OH WELL, that is neither here, nor there. Which is where I had to go--there. I usually wouldn't bother on a day like today, but I had a bill to pay at Parisian, so I figured I'd pick up some food while I was out and some blog fodder.

Which brings us to today's ancient wisdom from the Far East, in this case being Stone Mountain, Georgia, home of the Dah Sing Noodle Company.

First up:

Your courage will guide your future.

::sigh:: Those Chinese are so wise--somehow they just know that even though I have no courage, I will somehow manage to find some and use it to guide my future! Smart, smart people.

Next, this:

Behind an able man, there are always other able men.

Hmm. I wonder what it means when the only thing behind me is a stack of old paperwork and a window?

TODAY'S LUCKY NUMBERS:

7 14 19 36 41. 22

and

8 13 24 39 44. 22

Wow--is there anything she CAN'T do!?

Malkin to make NHL debut Wednesday

Journalist, author, blogger, favored target of the Left to demonstrate their love, tolerance, and respect for women and minorities (as long as they sit down and shut up), and now she's playing hockey!!

Incredible!

Hmm-what?

Not that Malkin?

Never mind.

Disturbingly weird, or...

...weirdly disturbing?

Hard to say. Via The Straight Dope's "Weird Earl" feature, we give you--this.

The caption is even better: "Child Toilet costume is a very funny kids Halloween costume. A Child toilet costume is also perfect for every potty mouth kid. Use as a modern day Dunce cap."

Well, alrighty, then.

I wonder if North Korea will try to sue them?

China erects fence along N. Korea border

No--you're fine.

I'm much more worried about California--they're a lot closer.

So, pillows are good.

I found this out last weekend, when I heard Kids WB coming from somewhere in the house, and in a barely conscious fit of pique, pulled one of my pillows up over my earpan.

Heaven.

I decided from then on, I would do the same thing every Saturday morning to keep from being awakened by tussling children, insipid Japanimation, or my lovely wife loudly getting plastic clothes hangers or loudly closing the door of the armoire. Saturday is the ONLY day I get to sleep--every other day of the week, I have to get up an hour before everyone else and try to get them all rousted, and by Saturday I’m working on something like a 20 hour sleep deficit, and I want nothing more than to be able to sleep until I wake up the way nature intended. Yet, since everyone else GOT their sleep during the week, they all want to get up and do things on Saturday morning. Loud things. Loud, daddy-wakey kinds of things that make Daddy angry. And Daddy is not allowed a bit of righteous anger, because it Casts a Pall on the Morning.

That is, until I found a way to sleep through it all.

I woke up enough that I had the presence of mind to pull the pillow over my ear sometime before dawn, and there is stayed all the way until 8:30! I even heard Miss Reba come in sometime in the intervening time between when she got up at 6:30 and when I woke up, and as is her usual manner, she loudly opened and closed the armoire door to put away my grippies, and the only thing I heard was a muffled thud as the door was slammed home and the latch snapped shut. Heaven. I usually get the full brunt of the sound, which sounds a bit like someone dropping a sheet of plywood off a loading dock, followed by the sound of a Browning M2 bolt being drawn back and released. And I don’t know why she does that--the door can be closed quietly, but she never chooses to close it that way. Always loud.

BUT NOT WITH PILLOW-AIDED AURAL CANCELLATION!

Finally woke up, refreshed and chipper, went downstairs and had breakfast, and began the process of yardwork.

Filled up the birdfeeders, then got Boy outside and we started on the lawn. He wanted to do the front, and bless his heart, he did most of it, except for several lines of clever grass that managed to swerve around and miss being nicked by the mower blade. Kept trying to get him to get over a bit closer to those, but he couldn’t quite get them all. But hey, at least I didn’t have to do it!

On to the back yard. And by the way, what a beautiful day to do yardwork--cool but not cold, bright blue sky--the only bad thing was the dust. Still. Should get damped down a bit today with the rain, but Saturday is was a bit thickish. No matter, though--STILL a pretty day to be outside. SO, back yard grass, then all done by noon.

Hmm.

You know, the back looks really snakey. Lots of stuff I’d let go over the summer.

Since I’m a moron, I decided to do a little clearing. TWO HOURS LATER, I had managed to cut down three wild hedges and limb up the oak, sycamore, maple, and pear trees. The latter causing me intense scratch-and-pokeage as I tried to drag the branches over to the side of the yard. I know they have thorns. Yet, for some reason, I CONTINUED to jam them into my fingers and scratch my arms with them. Reached down one time as if I was picking up a feather pillow to put upon my head, and rammed one deep into my knuckle. Another time reached into a pile and got scratched up and down my arms like I was fighting with an expensive free kitten.

Stupid me.

BUT, it sure cleaned up really nice--the stone planter bed is almost nekkid of plant growth, and the trees look a lot fresher, and I have a huge pile of brush alongside the house.

Then it was Part Two--chemical devastation!

Drove over to Marvin’s and picked up a gallon of Roundup to douse those wild hedges, and various other stuff that’s growing where it oughtn’t, AND I picked up something else for a project--Styrofoam.

See, Lightning’s little cat condo is out there on the porch, and it’s going to get chilly as the months go on, so I decided to give him a bit of an enclosure to keep some of the wind off of him. Two sides and a top of blue insulation board I figured should do the trick, so I got a 4x9 sheet and squished it into the van, then got it home and began the construction process.

You know what? Cats don’t like you making scratchy sounds outside their cage. Lightning was inside while I was measuring and cutting, and he did not like it AT ALL. Every once in a while, he’d reach one of his gigantic kitty paws around, ready to destroy whatever it was that was behind that sound. The other drawback was the wind picking up. Ever try to cut a big sheet of foam while it’s getting blown around? Not easy.

ANYwho, got all the pieces cut and secured, then had to go BACK to the hardware store to get more duct tape, then made a stop by the car parts place to get some wipers for the van, THEN finished up the three-sided enclosure, THEN after Reba and the two older girls had gone shopping, got the lasagna out of the oven and got ready to go deliver a dinner to one of our folks at church who had been involved in a very bad car wreck. Rounded up the two younger kids, got them to help me carry stuff, and off we went. Delivered the food, chatted with the wreck-guy’s wife to see if they needed anything else and commiserate while the kids amused themselves by agitating their gigantic Doberman through the glass kitchen door.

Off then back toward home, and stopped and got some food for us, because the last I’d heard before we left, the girls were still heavily shopping. As is the normal way of such things, I figured they wouldn’t be back until late, even though Reba had said she was going to fix spaghetti for supper. I’ve seen enough such plans come to naught before, however, to know that we needed to go ahead and get something to eat.

Got home, walked in, and Reba was cooking spaghetti.

Oops.

Our stop at the fast-food joint did not engender any tender feelings toward me. Add to this the general frustration level of spending a half-day shopping and not finding what you wanted, and I can tell you, it was very quiet.

BUT HEY--at least I could listen to the Auburn-Florida game in peace! Am I right!? SURE I AM! (And she did get over being miffed--seeing as how the two smaller kids still wanted some spaghetti, and the laundry did get done without further intervention on her part. It’s all good.)

ANYway, what a game! And for once, I’m glad I got my score prediction wrong. In amongst all that excitement, children were cleaned and polished and everything made ready for Sunday.

SUNDAY, which came and went without incident--two good sermons and a wondrous thing called a nap, and NOT one taken during the things of an important ecclesiastical nature! Sat there in my chair after a good lunch and a read-through of the free newspaper that got tossed on my driveway, and dozed off in that droolish manner, with all the weird semi-conscious dreams that you get. And it was a pretty day, too!

All in all, one of the more better weekends.

BUT, before we get to that...

...some items of interest from the Inbox. Chet the E-Mail Boy is still chuckling at the first set, which comes to us via Steevil (famed NASA scientist and brother of Dr. Weevil), who is familiar with the subject matter. I will warn my Southren readers that some of the terminology is unfamiliar, but Yankees should get a kick out of it.

New England "Ifs"...

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you live in New England.

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you live in New England. [Say--I must live in New England!]

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you live in New England.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you live in New England. [What about if the guy on the other end is drunk and calls you at 3 in the morning to accuse you of impregnating his daughter?]

You know you're a New Englander when: "Vacation" means going anywhere south of New York City for the weekend.

You measure distance in hours. . .well, of course!

You know several people who have hit a deer more than once. [In the South, I think this would be modified to say "...hit a deer in their driveway more than once."]

You have switched from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day and back again.

You can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching. [Now that one I know must be true--around here everything closes down when there's a quarter inch on the sides of the road.]

You install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked.

You carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them.

You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

The speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody is passing you! [See--we think we have so many differences, yet some of the important things in life are universal.]

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

You know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction.

You have more miles on your snow blower than your car.

You find 10 degrees "a little chilly."

Also from Steevil, this blurb from NRO's The Corner, in which we learn that if you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day. If you give a man small arms training, he can eat for days, although he might be a bit deaf. Thank you, Steevil!

Next up, from the mysterious "Jim Smith," an interesting little doohickey he found on the Internet, the Birthday Calculator.

According to this little jewel, I found out that:

My date of conception was on or about 16 October 1961 which was a Monday. [Eww]

The Julian calendar date of my birth is 2437854.5.

My Native American Zodiac sign is Woodpecker.

My date of birth on the Hebrew calendar is 7 Tammuz 5722.

The Mayan Calendar long count date of my birthday is 12.17.8.14.10 which is 12 baktun 17 katun 8 tun 14 uinal 10 kin

As of 10/16/2006 9:26:37 AM EDT, I am 44 years old, or 531 months old, or 2,310 weeks old, or 16,170 days old, or 388,089 hours old, or 23,285,366 minutes old, or 1,397,121,997 seconds old.

Celebrities who share my birthday: Courtney Love (1964), John Tesh (1952), O.J. Simpson (1947), and Nicola Tesla (1856)

My age is the equivalent of a dog that is 6.32876712328767 years old. (It said that I'm still chasing cats, which is true)

There are 266 days till my next birthday on which my cake will have 45 candles.

Those 45 candles produce 45 BTUs, or 11,340 calories of heat (that's only 11.3400 food Calories!). You can boil 5.14 US ounces of water with that many candles.

In the immortal words of Johnny Carson, that is some wild, wacky stuff.

Now then, back to attempting to recreate the boring details of my weekend.

Now that was pretty much okay.

As weekends go, that was a pretty good one, although let me tell you this, if you choose to prune your pear tree, you might ought to wear gloves. More about that later, after I carefully recreate in excrutiating detail all of the boring details!

Is it just me...

...or has it been a slow week? I think it's been a slow week. And it appears a slow weekend is in store, or at least I HOPE it is.

ANYway, I've got some junk to do before I go, so I will bid you all a hearty adieu and ask you to come back sometime Monday and see if the weekend was slow, or fast, or just sort of half-fast.

Homecoming!

Boy had to be at the middle school's football game last night to beat on round loud things, and Reba was supposed to work the concession stand, and I had really, REALLY wanted to stay home, but Rebecca wanted to go to the game, too, since it was homecoming, after all, and then Ashley decided she wanted to go, so I couldn't very well sit home with Catherine and leave Bec sitting in the stands by herself (which is what would have happened, because there would have been no way Oldest would have deigned to be nice and sit there through the game with her) SO, we all loaded up the veehickle and drove over to the stadium.

As usual, there were the clots of oblivious kids walking around the track around the field in knots and clutches and packs, gossiping and ignoring the game, and there was Catherine, who was so full of P & V that she couldn't sit still if she'd been shot with a tranquilizer dart, and there was the disappointment of both the 7th and the 8th grade teams losing, and there were several moments of light rain that caused me to have to get us down out of the stands and run under a roof overhang by the restrooms so we wouldn't get dampened.

The one insight I had occurred to me as I saw the fifty-jillioneth mom come walking by who seemed determined to relive her youth by trying to wear something she bought in the junior's department. The insight I had is that football stadium lighting is absolutely the worst thing for these ladies, because the lights seem to have a way of making everything look more extreme--if you really are young and attractive, the lights seem to double your smooth, dewy glow, but let me tell you what--if you smoke two packs of Virginia Slims a day in between trips to the tanning bed, those big old lights turn you into something out of a haunted house. And it really does highlight that impossible-to-find-in-nature hair color, too. The beneficial effect of the lights was also confirmed by the presence of the Breck Girl Mom (whom I've not seen in ages), who seems to have found the secret to immortality, or at least a highly durable form of perky redheaded cuteness.

As for Boy, he once again impressed me with his ability to play the drums. He's always beating and banging on the furniture and other things at the house, but it's hard to tell what he's actually accomplishing. Over by the bandstands, though, he's got it going on--at once focused on the director yet also loose and grooving. He's actually playing music, rather than just matching the notes on the paper to beats on a drum. And it's not just him--they all sound about as good as the high schoolers, who are none too shabby when it comes to such things.

Pretty darned cool.

And it was pretty darned cool as far as the temperature, too. Several folks in the stands showed up wearing shorts. Including one of them who I've already mentioned was quite full of silly energy.

She slept well last night, that's for sure.

Well, I think I've been a possum long enough.

It's time to switch species--Feds set nearly 6,200 coastal acres for protected beach mice.

What are a bunch of stupid mice gonna do with all that coastline!? I'll tell you what--NOTHING! They have absolutely no sense when it comes to real estate, nor the value of a nice condo. What do they do? DIG HOLES! You can't put a balcony on a HOLE!

Stupid mice.

Anyway, if the Feds are gonna start giving away primo Gulf Coast property, I hereby renounce marsupialism and declare myself a Choctawhatchee beach mouse.

Bless their little hearts.

Bleeding though they may be. Air America Radio files for Chapter 11

This is one of those stories I really don't care about--I never feared Air America would be anything more than what it actually turned out to be (i.e., interminable whining, at least from the stories I've read, since I can't be bothered to actually listen to MORE interminable whining, since I hear enough of it from a certain teenager in my house), but whether it was wildly successful or fantastically destined to fail, I never really cared.

I just like the fact that in America, we're free to flush millions down the crapper on something so unctuous and fatuous and self-serving and full of preening. Capitalism is a pretty neat thing--no one tried to stop anyone from attempting to compete in the marketplace. Well, except, you know, by the evil tactic of deciding to not listen. The capitalism of ideas is a pretty neat thing, too.

So why do I even take the time to mention this? Because of a letter to the editor in the Birmingham News. (Rest assured I didn't buy it--it was just in the office and I decided to see what there was in it.) Anyway, the letter can be found here (fifth letter down), and it says:

Last week, Scott Stantis in "Prickly City" published a series of cartoons based on the premise that Air America had gone bankrupt. Since the right wing has declared Air America defunct about once a week for the past two years, I was dubious, and a few minutes on the Internet showed no such event had occurred. What this reveals is:

The right wing does not care about accuracy. Not really a surprise.

Stantis cannot even take two minutes to check out the accuracy of what he hears in the right-wing fantasy-sphere.

The News doesn't seem to care, either. A bit more surprising.

Old joke: What is the easiest job in the world?

Answer: Rush Limbaugh's fact checker.

New version: The Birmingham News' fact checker. [name and address in the original]

HAH!! That guy's a STITCH! But, to the meat of things, let's just admit that Stantis wasn't wrong per se, he just got ahead of the news cycle! It was fake but accurate! It had truthiness!

Anyway, bless people who still take the time to write letters to the editor.

Well, it's all that global warming is what it is.

2 feet of snow falls on western N.Y.

By CAROLYN THOMPSON
The Associated Press

BUFFALO, N.Y. (AP) — A rare early October snowstorm left parts of the Great Lakes and Midwest blanketed with 2 feet of snow Friday morning, prompting widespread blackouts, closing schools and halting traffic.

The snow downed scores of tree limbs and toppled power lines, leaving more than 220,000 customers without electricity in western New York.

By early Friday, 14 inches of snow had been recorded at the Buffalo Niagara International Airport, with reports of 2 feet elsewhere, said Tom Paone, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service. The snowfall was expected to continue throughout the morning, he said.

On Thursday, 8.3 inches of heavy snow set the record for the "snowiest" October day in Buffalo in the 137-year history of the weather service, said meteorologist Tom Niziol. The previous record of 6 inches was set Oct. 31, 1917.

"This is an extremely rare event for this early in the season," Niziol said.

Detroit also set a record, its for the earliest measured snow. On Thursday, the city broke by one day the mark set on Oct. 13, 1909. [...]

Well, obviously, it's some kind of vast conspiracy to drive up heating oil prices. Or to tempt polar bears to migrate south to keep from drowning, where they will be loosed upon unsuspecting inner cities to prey on the homeless.

Hello Again, Sports Fanatics!

It’s once again time for the Least Accurate Sports Show on the ‘Net, Possumblog Sports Center!

Everyone’s favorite team, the beloved Auburn Tigers succumbed last Saturday to a pummeling beating of a smackdown, complete with a whupping on top of a thrashing, falling to the still-ugly-feral-hog Arkansans by a score of 28-10. You will notice that this is very close--at least inversely--to my predicted score of AU 31 -- UofA 12. I have decided there must be a glitch of some sort in my score predicting machinery, which we hope will be corrected soon.

IN THE MEAN TIME, the 11th ranked Plainsmen (5-1, 3-1 SEC) will once again be the hosts this week, inviting into Jordan-Hare Stadium a bunch of unattractive, antediluvian reptiles, who just happen to have taken over the #2 spot Auburn had held, and who just so happen to be undefeated in the SEC, and everywhere else, for that matter.

As usual, there’s more than just a meeting of the minds in this game, as the Auburn-Florida rivalry is Auburn's third-longest, with Saturday’s contest marking the 81st time the schools have knocked heads since the first game in 1912. The only teams that Auburn has played more than Florida are Georgia (109 games) and Georgia Tech (92).

Oddly enough, last week Auburn was actually favored to beat the pesky crocodilians, although the bookies and other shady persons now think Florida has the advantage. BUT HOW COULD THEY!? Just because they’ve got tremendous arm/leg power from a brace of quarterbacks and momentum and, let’s face it, Satanic powers that are best left unmentioned. Defensively, they’re as big and strong and fast as Auburn (although Auburn hid this from everyone in playing the Hogs) which could spell a tremendous amount of trouble for Auburn’s struggling offensive line.

One thing I did note as being crucial last week to victory was pass protection for Cox and keeping the Kenny Irons option alive--both of which proved to be the Tiger’s undoing. Coaching, coaching, coaching--no more freshman mistakes, no more holding (that is visible to the referees), no more missed snap counts, no more missed blocks, no more dropped balls. Mistakes of a simple and picayune nature have done more to harm the team so far than just about anything else.

Can Florida be beaten? Of course--but it will take them laying down and allowing it to happen. There are vanishingly few teams right now who could flat out whip them in a head’s-up game (and that includes the teams on either side of them in the polls), but as with anything else, a variety of factors can mess things up. One thing is weather--it’s going to be chilly, and you know how cold-blooded animals get when it’s cold outside. Second is the home-field advantage, which was useless against Arkansas, but could nonetheless still be a factor if things begin to fall apart for the Gators.

Which leads, inexorably, to the issue of school spirit, which in turn leads to those things known as cheerleaders. Auburn may be catching a break this week--although our own, rarely-updated cheerleading site has been a source of constant harping from certain quarters (and certain marsupials) the UFla website is even more sparse of spirit. I’ve always thought that if teams would spend just a fraction of the amount of time making websites with pretty girls in chenille sweaters and bobby socks and saddle oxfords that they spend to make websites for their pretty-boy head coaches, every team would be undefeated. Then again, maybe that’s just me.

NOW THEN, what you've all been waiting for, the FEARLESS PROGNOSTICATION!

This is made much more difficult by having to eat crow with all of that egg on my face from the immediate past effort, but I will once again bravely launch forth and say the final score will be...

AUBURN 14 -- FLORIDA 13

Now THAT'S a long shot!

Game time is at 6:45 p.m. Central, with teevee coverage on Evil, Sports Puddinhead Network and radio coverage on your Auburn Radio Network.

BUT WAIT, THAT'S NOT ALL!!

Yes, it's time to loudly trumpet our scholarly student athletes, with this week's version of the Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week!

This week we once again take a dip in the pool to fish out a 5'-5" sophomore by the name of Julianne McLane. The pre-nursing major is a native of Concord, California and graduate of Carondolet High. In addition to having a stunning smile, she is a middle distance freestyle and backstroke competitor on the NCAA National Championship swimming and diving team, and according to last season's media guide (.pdf) she says her best non-athletic talent is flower arranging, and the most famous person she has met is Dr. John York, co-owner of San Francisco 49ers. IN ADDITION, for continuing to hold at least a 3.0 GPA, she was honored at the Spring Tiger Torch banquet.

CONGRATULATIONS, Julianne, as the sixth PSAotW!!

KITTY! UPDATED!

Time once again for Friday Catblogging, and this time it's a special LOST EPISODE!! I remembered to bring my camera today that has the shots from last week. One thing different today is that there are some kind of Munuvian server issues, and I can't generate the thumbnails I usually can do, so in order to keep from making the page load too slowly, the photos today will be down below the jump. Or at least I hope so--let's see what happens.

CURSES!!

Looks like we'll have to wait until the server is fixed.

Drat.

UPDATE, 10:00 a.m--Well, the server must still be fuzzed up, so I've uploaded the couple of photos for today to my old Photobucket account. Jim Smith says my excuses are lame, but I'm not sure why that's a surprise.

AND AS BEFORE, I'm going to put these below the jump so the page will load a bit quicker.

IN ANY EVENT, this was Lightning last week after I got him out of his house. He wasn't particularly happy about it.

As always, he won't stay still long enough to take a really good photo of, but I did manage to get one of him munching on a tender succulent dead potted plant.

AND AS FOR THE OTHER CAT, she wanted me to take a picture of her boo-boo. This one on her paw is one of the smaller of her injuries from when she had her close encounter of the pavement kind. (By the way, she's reclining on her new video chair, and she looks very serious because that's what injured people are supposed to look like. After the photo was taken, she switched back to happy.)

A sheet of paper in a snowstorm.

If you've been by in the last hour or so, you probably noticed you'd gone blind or something. You knew it would happen eventually. Or not--seems it might have been a "computer" error.

Movable Type is acting strange and annoying. Not necessarily MT's fault though, given the weird setup we have.

Anyway, a bunch of blogs went blank. Rebuilding them was... iffy. I have no idea why that is; it was working; it should have worked.

I went and reset all the permissions on the MT2.6 blogs to something simpler, and rebuilt the ones that are listed below, and they all seem to be fine now. (Munuviana went blank somewhere along the way, so I rebuilt that too.)

If your blog has gone blank, either edit and save your most recent post, or go into Rebuild Site and choose Rebuild Indexes.

I wish I spoke whatever language this is.

Spam, The Novel

Chapter One

"Greetings: My name is Mr. Melvin Samson. I work as an accountant in a bank."

That's what they all say, you know. I looked the tall stranger up and down. He stank of gin and pixels. "'Mr. Melvin,' it is? Oh--wait--no. 'Mr. Samson,' right?" He shifted nervously as he stood there. "Can we confidentially discuss the modalities of the--"

I cut him off with a quickly raised hand. I had someone for him to meet. "I've got someone for you to meet--Mirta Rose." His face turned ashen as she came into the room, purring almost, like a cat, or a pencil sharpener.

"Hello!" she said brightly, "The greatest thing about Viagra is the security that you are on "automatic pilot", relaxed, carefree, with no worries about a sudden loss of--" He stammered, trying to get her to stop, but it was no use. Just then the phone rang. "Hold on, you two lovebirds--lemme get this."

I picked up the blower, it was Palsies I. Fiber, my mortgage broker. "Still paying too much for your current mortgage? Great news, you are pre-qualified for the lowest rates. Our loan department is trying to reach you one last time since previous attempts to contact you all failed. You qualify for up to $620,000 for a monthly payment as low as $690. Save up to 40% off current payment, guaranteed!" Oh, sure, it sounded good.

"Palsies, you ignoramus, I've already talked to Marisol Faulk and Cornell Nance about this. I'm done with all this claptrap." I hung up and heard him continuing his sales pitch in the receiver until it clicked home in its cradle, "Please complete this final step upon receiving this notice immediately, and submit your application now..." Idiot.

"Mr. Samson--try to pull yourself away for a minute and let me ask you a question." I rang back to my secretary, Darla Mosley--"Darla, bring me the list."

She came in and handed me the sheet of paper. Nice girl, Darla. I'd caught her trying to lift my credit card number by pretending to be a bank. She looks good in heels. Anyway, I shoved the list across the desk to 'Mr. Samson.'

"Read 'em, Slick."

He wet his lips--you could tell he knew this was going to be rough. Big deal, right? Right. "Cesar Pritchard, Rolan Coulombe, Cusandra Hayes, Yukimi, Christian Frank, Dr. Benjamin Frank, Bernardo Terence Whitman, Lizzy Whirritty..."

"You know who they are? DO YOU!!" I slammed my hand down, hard, and he flinched. "Leave the room, Mirta--I've got some banking business to take care of."

"WHO ARE YOU, SAMSON!!"

"I am the barrister Dr. Thomas Jefferson Franklin, of the Cote d' Ivorie Departmetn of Jusictice."

Finally. Now we're getting somewhere...

I love a parade!

Well, most of them, at least.

I have to say that this year's Columbus Day parade is one of those that might make me rethink my infatuation. The Ks of C come first, then the John Carroll band, then the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria (rendered in authentic aluminum siding), then Carver's band, then everyone else, which this year consisted of about ten fire trucks, a firefighter's motorcycle club, a radio station van, and a very unhappy-looking lone marcher holding a sign touting a court reporter's association. I know there HAS to be more than one court reporter in Jefferson County--you'd think at least a few could be urged to participate. Maybe even marching along while pushing their Stenograph Miras on little wheeled stands. THAT would be entertaining.

And this part I know is going to upset someone out there, but the K'niggits of Columbus deal is just a little played. I know they do good stuff, but a bunch of rotund old guys prancing along carrying little plastic swords while wearing capes and feathered hats, well, it's a bit cheesy. What young kid would aspire to that? Luckily, I'm not one of these people who just complain without offering a better alternative.

My idea?

The NINJAS of Columbus! They could drop out of trees and stun onlookers with their mind-clouding abilities! They could battle evil warlords with tremendous kung fu! And forget little plastic swords, my friend--nothing but the finest samurai steel!

See, that's what the youngsters crave.

But do let the ninjas continue the tradition of throwing candy--kids crave that as well. Although a few throwing stars mixed in might keep things interesting.

Second, I love firefighters and firetrucks and stuff like that, but it would really be cool if they would start a fire in the middle of the street, then jump out and douse it. I mean, dousing IS what they do, you know.

Anyway, that's the parade report.

Obscure Architectural Term of the Day!

Today’s term is:

BÉTON BRUT. ‘Concrete in the raw’, that is, concrete left in its natural state when the formwork is removed. Sometimes special formwork is used to show clearly the timber graining on the concrete surface.

From the Penguin Dictionary of Architecture, Third Edition.

You get a two-fer today, because although rough-cast concrete has been around since concrete, once you recognize it as a medium and give it a fancy name and don't think of it as random sloppiness, well, you get yourself a whole movement devoted to artfully crafted artlessness. (Sorta like primitive painters who, it just so happened, went to art school and have PhDs.)

ANYway, raw concrete became quite the craze and gave us (from the same source as above) the name:

BRUTALISM. A term coined in England in 1954 to characterize the style of Le Corbusier at the moment of the Marseille
and Chandigarh, and the style of those inspired by such buildings; in England Stirling & Gowan; in Italy Vittoriano Viganò (Istituto Marchiondi, Milan, 1957) [News story here, originally in Italian and translated by Google, which shows that time has not been kind to this building. Ed.] ; in America Paul Rudolph; in Japan Maekawa, Tange, and many others. Brutalism nearly always uses concrete exposed at its roughest (BÉTON BRUT) and handled with overemphasis on big chunky members which collide ruthlessly.

“big chunky members which collide ruthlessly”-- Why, that’s not architecture, that’s FOOTBALL! And if you’ll look at football stadiums, that’s the way a lot of them (including this lovely) are built.

Finally, to top things off, TWO limericks devoted to the topic.

All things to all people.

Often I am startled to see just how people find their way to Possumblog, because anything with the name possum or blog in it doesn't seem like exactly the best way to find out much of anything. BUT, I suppose my carefully wrought reputation as a fount of all knowledge has grown over the years, so that now this humble site is even your source for crossword puzzle answers!

Sometime last night a person in California was searching for a ruler of the middle east + em*. Now, I don't know exactly how they got to Possumblog with that, seeing as how it's not even one of the returned results.

Maybe it was just fate.

In any event, it does appear the person was trying to complete a crossword puzzle, and so allow me to finish the result. A Middle Easter ruler beginning with "em" would be "Emo Phillips."

You're welcome!

POTPOURRI!!

Yes, it's Thursday again, which means it's once again time to put on your writing/thinking caps in order to participate in The World's Favorite Internets Thing, the Axis of Weevil Thursday Three!

AND, as you can surmise from the title, today is YET ANOTHER Thursday where I didn't have anything prepared ahead of time due to the constraints of gainful employment, and so now I'm in the position of having to come up with a set of questions on the fly, and that always means a scattershot sort of affair, full of non-themed, unrelated questions.

SOUNDS LIKE FUN? YOU BETCHA!!

As is the usual case, everyone is invited to participate in answering the following set of questions by either leaving a comment below, or leaving a link to your blog, or writing them out in longhand and mailing them to our headquarters building here in Godly Hollow, Alabama.

NOW, here we go:

1) We know none of you are full of vainglory, but everyone has a little something they like to have around to show off as a status symbol. What thing (or things) do you have that you use to signify your high level of couth and culture?

2) What time do you go to bed at night?

3) What year did you first experience the Internet?

NOW, all of you go answer those, and I'll do the same--in a while. ONCE MORE, gainful employment is interfering with things, so you'll have to wait a bit to see my answers. YOU, on the other hand, please fire away!

10:00 a.m.--OKAY!! Now then--that's taken care of (for the moment) so here are my answers:

1) I'm not into clothes (other than I think it's important to wear a tie every day) and my taste in cars runs toward the more moronically off-beat anti-status type. We live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, so I suppose that should count, but one thing I like having beyond all others is a nice watch. I used to also like really nice pens, but since everyone else got on the Mont Blanc kick a few years back, that sorta went by the wayside for me. But I like having a watch that's relatively obscure, not tremendously and stupidly expensive, but one that's still stylish. I wear a Limes Nightflight automatic with a black dial, stainless case, and black band. High spiff factor, and luckily, when I bought it they were still quite inexpensive, and they've gotten out of my price range now.

2) I would love to go to bed every night at 10:30 after the late news, but there is usually one or more children awake doing homework. Or avoiding doing it. Grr.

3) I think it was around 1991 or '92 or so, but I didn't really think it was that interesting until around '95 when I got to my current place of employment where we had high speed access. I remember the coolest thing I found was when I was looking for a better search engine, and had heard about the concept of massively parallel searching, and stumbled on something called "Google." Not much to look at, but boy, it really did do a good job of finding stuff.

I wonder whatever happened to them?

Anyway, that was all so very long ago, wasn't it?

Steevil-Oyl sends along...

...this interesting article via The Brothers Judd on the merits of eating walnuts and cooking with walnut oil.

Sounds like a marvelous way to make fried Coca-Cola a much healthier snack!

Sweet!

Miss Reba's coming downtown on an errand and we get to have lunch together!

Boy, I sure hope she's bringing some money with her...

Okay, this has to stop.

I don't know who's writing these things. The first one I could let go as a slipup, but now there comes ANOTHER one: Gadsden man given 51 months for stealing $500 grand

STOP THAT, MORON HEADLINE WRITER! The guy didn't steal "five hundred dollars grand" and he didn't steal a $500 grand piano--he either stole "$500,000" or "500 Grand" or "half a million" or something else, so QUIT WRITING $(numeric amount) GRAND! And better yet, quit using "grand" when you mean "thousand." Twit.

Oh. And don't steal money from your mother-in-law, either--that goes for all of you.

I realize it's wrong.

Yet, when I saw this Associated Press photograph of our secretary of state

as she discussed the conundrum presented by the provactive actions of North Korea, I could think of nothing else but this famous historic exchange:

FATHER (as portrayed by Michael Palin) 'Erbert. We live in a bloody swamp. We need all the land we can get.

HERBERT (as portrayed by Terry Jones): But-- but I don't like her.

FATHER: Don't like her?! What's wrong with her?! She's beautiful. She's rich. She's got huge... tracts o' land!

As I said, I know it's wrong to think such things.

Oh, and don't forget--King of Swamp Castle and Prince Herbert action figures are still available!

Hooray!!

It's like feeling you get when they ring the dismissal bell at school!

Well, sorta.

I'm happy to be through with my near-dawn meeting, but the initial elation at being free is somewhat tempered by the fact that I had to return here to serve out the remainder of my time today. Maybe it's more like the feeling you get when they ring the bell after first period, when you had that teacher who smelled like wet clay and had the giant mole on her neck. The rest of the day is still ahead, but at least you don't have to listen to her wheezing and cackling.

ANYway, things to do, but I'll be checking in periodically to make sure everyone is having a good time and the aerosol cheese is holding out.

So, if you liked the lack of substance today...

...you're really gonna like it tomorrow when I don't have ANYthing posted, due to the cruel intervention of real life. Time once again to mount upon my regulatory high horse and hie me hence to an early-morning meeting. It's going to be a long one, too, so you're going to have to entertain yourselves as best you can.

I am confident you will be able to find a suitable substitute that captures the freewheeling good times people experience when they come to Possumblog--one might suggest a paper bag, or possibly a hair wad from an old brush, both of which display the dynamism and fun which millions have come to enjoy!

To the person near Southfield, Michigan...

...who came to Possumblog by Googling Terry Oglesby--I am not that person.

That is all.

"We that handle plates are extremely excited"

Alabama switching to flat, digital license plates

Ahhh, back to one of my favorite stupid topics--license plates! Read the whole story, but the short one is that the old stamped steel plates are being replaced with flat aluminum blanks having a reflective material applied to them. Notice the number of tag permutations--225. If this works as advertised, it should be a lot more cost effective. Then again--if we could find a way to eliminate some of those more stupid tags, we could save a bit that way, too.

In any event, I think this is getting pretty close to what I suggested the last time the subject came up--just let everyone pick their own tag design like they do bank checks, or like the Postal Service was going to do with stamps. It's all digital now (supposedly) so it should be a simple matter of setting out a few guidelines for content (no naughtiness or making it look like some other state's tag), size, amount of contrast between background and numerals--stuff like that--and then let people have at it. Might even create a specialized niche of car tag artist to give the people who airbrush plates down in Gulf Shores something to do in the off-season.

UPDATE 2: Here is 3M's brochure about the technology (.pdf).

UPDATE 1: I was just perusing the Revenue Department's website and noticed something that is actually pretty cool, at least for those of us who like old cars.

Vintage Vehicles Can Now Display Original Model Year Tags

Act 2006-612 (.pdf) allows owners of antique or historical vehicles to register their vehicles using an original Alabama license plate issued in the vintage vehicle’s model year, beginning Oct. 2, 2006. Original Alabama license plates through 1976 qualify.

Not a big deal to most folks, but a lot of old car buffs like to have their car be as close to original as possible, and an old tag is one of those things that helps kinda set the mood.

"I Joined the Nuclear Club..."

"...and All I Got Were These Crappy Boxer Shorts!"

Huh? Do what?

Heavier weight tied to poorer mental function

NEW YORK (Reuters Health) - Overweight middle-aged adults tend to score more poorly on tests of memory, attention and learning ability than their thinner peers do, researchers reported Monday. [...]

Of course, since the overweight are one of the few groups left everyone feels comfortable making fun of, skinny people can at least not feel so bad about making fun of us now since we're too deranged to notice or care!

I think we can agree that's a win-win!

Perturbated Tuesday Returns!

And boy, are there a lot of perturbed people out there! Including me, although when comparing my perturbationary status with that of the people I’ve had the malfortune to meet today, it’s really not that bad. Not that it will stop me from kvetching anyway.

You are all free to post in the comments below the things that have gotten your goat so that you may cleanse your system of such harmful bile. As always, we ask only that your expletives be cloaked by the less vulgar &*%%$ (or maybe even *!+&#((@~) and that guilty parties remain nameless.

The airing of my grievances follows below the jump--

First up, I wonder why it is that we have a person who has been using a laptop and projector for several years now, yet for some reason STILL can’t figure out that the big cable from the back of the computer to the projector has to be plugged into either the terminal that says “Computer 1” or the one that is labeled “Computer 2.” One would think after the first several hundred times you hooked it up wrong and your chubby, bespectacled co-worker had to heave a great sigh and point out that the cable does NOT go into the port marked “Monitor Out,” that you would have grown tired of appearing to be so grossly inept. One would think.

*&^%line.

And just what is the deal with people who are late for no other reason than it’s simply part of their character. They know how to be on time, because you’ve seen them do it. But for the most part, they PLAN to be at least five or ten minutes late to every meeting. Could be drooling on the desktop reading a romance novel, but by golly just still can’t tear away from it five minutes early in order to not inconvenience someone else. Of course, it is kinda sweet when said Psychotically Late Person shows up for a meeting and is detained herself because the Guy Who Doesn’t Understand Cables is having difficulty with his flow of electrons again. Hee. Or rather,

!@#$*daw.

But that was all yesterday, so I don’t know if it should count toward The Tuesday Vexation Show.

So, I’ll add some for today. You know what irks me? People who can’t quite figure out where they’re going on a confusing hospital campus. Especially those who get halfway down a driveway to enter a parking deck, then decide it’s the wrong one and they’d better turn around and go back out before going into the deck. Of course, when I DID decide to turn around, there was no one around for several streets, so a three point turn in the amply-wide driveway should actually not have been a convenience to anyone, in that it is a maneuver that is quickly completed.

Unless.

Unless you have a Crazy Lunatic Psycho Old Coot Ford Crown Vic Driver who, even though he must have seen you turning around when he first entered the driveway, and despite the fact that NONCRAZY people would just have sat there and waited five seconds for the humble Volvo in the driveway to complete its turning maneuver--despite all that--he INSISTS on continuing to drive straight for your rear bumper as if he is going to simply ram you out of the way. I was busily sawing the wheel to the left to finish turning and loudly and slowly said through my (closed) window, “W O U L D Y O U P L E A S E S T O P!” I did not call him an **&^%, but I wanted to. And a ja&^%!.

But I’m better than that.

As for the doctor’s visit, my goodness--quite a lot of peeved people today.

Reba’s appointment was for 9:30, and we didn’t get out of there until around 11:15. (By the way, they still can’t quite figure out why she has these roaming feelings of numbness and nerve pain. *&^%) While I waited, there was one woman who began to loudly complain to the counter staff that she’d been there for two hours and hadn’t seen anyone and she’d gone to the emergency room and they told her she might have had a stroke and she needed to see her doctor and she was in PAIN and needed to see someone RIGHT THEN.

You know what? I think by now, several decades after the invention of the telephone, that I would call before I just show up at my doctor’s office, just to make sure they could see me. Second, if I’d gone to the emergency room and they told me I might have had a stroke, I really don’t think they’d just send me home and tell me to call my doctor, unless they were just trying to get rid of me because I was crazy. Finally, if I’d had a stroke, and was again loudly complaining that I couldn’t move my whole left side, that it would be much more convincing if the left side leg didn’t work quite so well, it being part of that whole left side that is supposedly immobile. They finally got her back just to shut her up.

I think they were both pretty much saying &*^%.

The whole office management system seems a bit suspect, though, because there were at least three or four other people who came in during the course of the time I was waiting to complain about misdirected appointments, unreturned pharmacy calls, insurance and billing errors. No one said *@!#%it, but I was getting worried that they might pull out a *&^%$.

As for the wait, eh. I’ve had to wait placed before, and so I read the paper and snored. I do have one peeve--the choice of reading matter was very slight--the newspaper, a copy of Parenting, various medical literature about dropsy and pellagra--and oddly enough, the June 2006 issue of Maxim with an chestnut-haired Jessica Simpson on the cover. I’m not quite sure the clientele really appreciated it, seeing as how I was the youngest person to show up the entire time, with the rest of the persons looking less like they needed to peruse a lad-mag and much more like they needed a ventilator.

SO, anyway, what’s irking YOU today?

Change of Plans

I have to get some work junk done right away, and then have to go meet Reba at the doctor's office (hopefully nothing major--just still some pain in her back that we hope is just part of the muscle spasm problems), so no time for Hacked Off Tuesday just yet.

Okay, somebody's messing with the clock.

Or something--how did the whole day get gone!? Part of it went waiting on the technology to work. Which will be discussed in more detail on tomorrow's episode of Hacked Off Tuesday. Along with asking why some people plan to be late.

It should be a refreshing break. ANYway, it's about time to head for the barn for me. Maybe tomorrow will be easier to get some high-quality blogging done.

Or not.

Mention the Texas State Fair...

...and certain things are just BOUND to come to mind. One is Tito Puente, and one is not.

By the way, if you'd like for me to intrude into your unconscious, drop me a note and I'll see what I can arrange.

Other things I did not do.

Well, I conveniently forgot to cut the grass. It's really getting wooly and I'm sure it's making the people who care about such things nervous. Which might be a good reason for letting it go another week.

After watching Auburn get hogtied, I took the younger two girls up to Wal-Mart so they could finish spending their Christmas money. Rebecca had wanted to get a case for her camera and a bigger SD card. I had a 128MB card I had been letting her use, but I convinced her to step up to a 2GB. That used up a lot of her money, which seems kind of unfair to a kid. I mean, the chip is the same size as the 128MB one, and looks the same, and for some reason it cost 70 bucks? I explained that it would hold nearly an infinite number of pictures, but I think she was still a bit disappointed in nearly blowing her whole bankroll on one bit of plastic and silicon. Anyway, she got a camera kit with a tripod and case and battery, so that was okay. And a couple of video games, so that was even better.

Cat? Well, she needed something to stack DVDs in, even though she didn't KNOW she needed one, so we got a small rack so she could try to put away some of her things in her room. AND, a chair. I don't know why, but she's been wanting a butterfly chair. I suspect one of her friends has one. Anyway, I've resisted, because she has no place to PUT a butterfly chair, out house being completely furnished with an abundance of sitting utensils. But, she wanted to use her money to get one. The Wallyworld had exactly one left. She decided to try it out in the store (it is Wal-Mart, after all) and pronounced it "too small."

But then, this caught her eye. Or rather, her sense of adventure. As with the butterfly chair, she felt compelled to dispense with any sense of propriety and proceeded to rock backwards numerous times with her feet extended toward the ceiling while giggling maniacally. (It is, after all, Wal-Mart.)

Thus entranced, she asked if she could use her money for this must-have item. Well, it IS smaller than a butterfly chair, and the entertainment value is much greater.

So, it now sits in the floor of the den, and each of them has taken turns flipping over backwards.

Poetry Appreciation Day!

Many have wondered where Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) drew his inspiration for his poem, "The Vampire." Recent analysis efforts have been undertaken which have revealed, at least partially, the source of the line "a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair".

Hmmm, I wonder...

Fishermen catch crocodile in Rio Grande

I wonder if crocodiles would be cheaper than a fence?

Well, now.

Arkansas=drummer

Auburn=drum

That was terrible, but it was only part of a litany of miscues and damage this weekend, culminating with the youngest taking a header over her handlebars and planting herself facefirst into the concrete sidewalk. Tally of damage--broken helmet visor, big goose-egg on the left forehead, dime-sized abrasion on the chin, bruise under left elbow, numerous abrasions upon the top of her right hand, skint place on her left pinkie, bruise on left thigh, big raspberry on her left knee.

I feel bad--not for her, she's like a steel ball. I feel bad FOR ME (it being all about me, after all) because I was standing there changing out the windshield wiper blades on the Volvo, chatting with Reba, and was watching Cat come down the sidewalk. She was going so very slowly, and then just fell over. Sorta hard, over and off to the side, but from a distance it really didn't look so bad. Well, except for the face-plant part. Anyway, I didn't think much about it as Reba ran down the walk to see about her, but upon further examination, she'd boogered herself up something fierce, as we say. I should have been much more concerned, but sometimes you just don't know how concerned you should be.

ANYway, she's fine, aside from looking like she's been riding inside a cement mixer.

More blather to come, but right now I have a bunch of comment spam to delete.

ANNNNND the weekend.

Well, same ol' stuff--laundry and yardwork. The latter is going to have to be a sure thing this weekend, though, because the grass is getting a little too uppity and thinking it runs the place. Bad enough that the mimosa and honeysuckle and poison ivy and wild hedge and poison oak actually do, I don't need my derned lawn turning on me, too. And laundry, like it was last week, is going to be mostly a me-proposition what with Reba having armneckback spasms. At least I do have the good sense to actively make the children help, rather than simply try to employ passive guilt toward them. Yes, they SHOULD be eager and willing to take time from their busy schedules to help their longsuffering parents with such chores, but you know, they get distracted by coming up with ways not to help. Sometimes it pays to help them by reminding them a little. And loudly.

Biggest thing I'm hoping for is to go to sleep early tonight, and being able to wake up in the morning without being jolted awake by someone turning on cartoons at 6 a.m. Might have to have a little meeting about that tonight before everyone beds down.

SO, anyway, a life rich in excitement awaits along the Pinchgut--all of you have a great weekend and we'll talk to you Monday.

I have resisted the urge to comment...

...up until now, because there is nothing in the sordid Foley mess that is anything but sordid and messy. But I have to say, this headline gave me pause--Analysis: Hastert learned from wrestling. Call me crazy, but it's probably not the best idea for anyone to use any sort of analogy dealing with sweaty muscular young men in singlets to demonstrate the idea of being tough in the face of adversity.

Just sayin', is all.

I saw this story--

Man tries to drive 310 miles in reverse and was reminded of Kitchenhand's late adventure with a Hyundai Accent, in which reverse driving was not done, but the subject came up nonetheless.

Silly Australians--down there all upside down, driving on the wrong side of the road, and backwards!

The question appears not to be...

..."Am Our Children Lurning?" but rather, "Exactly WHAT Am Our Children Lurning!?" Teacher charged with disturbing corpse

ROCKY GAP, Va. (AP) — A high school science teacher is charged with breaking into a century-old funeral vault, handling the remains of a corpse, and taking photographs of two students holding the bones inside the crypt.

Authorities have charged Candace Longworth, 31, of Bastian, with a felony charge of disturbing and defiling a dead person from a place of burial and two misdemeanor counts of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. The teenagers have been charged as juveniles.

"It's not anything anyone would call school-related," said Tazewell County Commonwealth's Attorney Dennis Lee. "It's just bizarre." [...]

Uhmmm, ya think!?

Funny, but she doesn't look like what you think a corpse-disturber would look like. ANYway, why would anyone think this is a good idea? And that it would be an even better idea to photograph yourself in the act?

And just in case the page is removed, here's a copy of the putative Tomb Raider's photo.

Well, now.

Seems like the Ol' Man in the Moon has been ordering some of that cream or those pills that spammers keep hawking: Tonight's Full Moon 12 Percent Bigger.

GOOD AFTERNOON, SPORTS FANS!

Well, time to fire up the ol’ RV, unfurl the flags, and get ready for a barbecue this week as the Porcine Pests of Fayetteville come squealing into Tigertown for a good ol’ fashioned game of football!

The 2nd or 3rd ranked Tigers of Auburn (5-0 overall, 3-0 SEC) have had a few more days off than usual due to their Thursday outing against the University of Spurrier Carolina last week, giving them some much needed time to recover. Still feeling the pounding administered by LSU has hampered both the offense and defense in the SC and in the Buffalo game, but Tuberville’s tune is that most everyone is back up to full strength. (And, of course, they do have the added security of being able to rely upon the World's Most Expensive Laptop Computer.)

Before we get started, though, I would also like to take this opportunity to politely ask our fellow Tigers down in the Bayou to wallop Florida with as much vigor as you expended on us, seeing as how they’re up next on our schedule. To do any less would not be gentlemanly.

Arkansas (3-1, 2-0 SEC) will be a challenge but one that can be overcome. After Coach Superior picked apart Auburn’s defense last week, I cannot imagine that changes were not made and holes closed up to prevent a repetition of such porousness. The good thing is that even had no changes been made, the Arkie O-team would not been nearly so effective at picking apart the pass coverage as SC was. This week, they should be even less able. Look for few points from the Razorbacks.

ON the other side of the ball, though, the Hog defense is quite strong, and as with everyone else the Plainsmen have met this year, they will probably go whole-hog (so to speak) in trying to exploit two things--weak pass protection, and shutting off Kenny Irons’ escape routes. The fact that Auburn has been able to win against teams who have done this is a combination of luck and good fortune, with a healthy dollop of providence, and some more luck thrown in for good measure. One hopes that the coaching staff has worked with the offensive line over the past week to ensure everyone knows his assignments and can fulfill them, or else you’re going to see another game with only a few Blue’n’Orange points.

Auburn’s (not so) secret weapon in each of their games so far has been exemplary special teams play--the onside kick last week against the Gamecocks is just the type of thing that keeps things exciting and opposing teams off-balance. Add to this solid performance on fundamentals such as punting, field goals, and kickoff returns, and you’ve got a group who make a good team great.

Arkansas’seses’ secret weapon(s)? A Red and a White cheerleading squad, and a Red and a White pompon squad! Although I must reiterate I have an aversion to any set of girls who need to drag a razor down their backs, all of the young ladies on these squads do seem to be much less hirsute than would be suggested by their nickname, and none have razor sharp tusks, nor curly tails. That are evident. Now, if they could only get rid of all those hairybacked guys, it might make up for the lack of individual team member photos. Nice sets of gameday photos, though, which AGAIN is something our own Tigers seem not to have mastered yet. For some reason.

As is too often the case, I think I have to give a slight edge in this category to the Slopeaters, with the hope that being outclassed in this aspect of the game will make the Tigers fight even harder to defend their honor. Or not. Never can tell.

ALTHOUGH THAT DOES NOT STOP ME FROM FEARLESSLY PREDICTING THE FINAL OUTCOME!

Following my deadly-accurate prognostication from last week, I will boldly spout off my prediction for this contest with full confidence that it will be just as prescient as last week’s. If not, I intend to blame global warming.

Without further ado, I predict the score will be…

AUBURN 31 -- ARKANSAS 12

Game time tomorrow begins at 11 o’ the clock Central Time from lovely Jordan-Hare Stadium on the Auburn campus, with live television coverage provided by CBS and their highly paid play-by-play ignoramus team of Bolerjack and Buerlein. Thank heavens for the mute button.

BUT WAIT, THAT’S NOT ALL!

As you know, we would be remiss in not taking time out from football in order to honor the hardy scholars who not only compete well on the field, but also in the classroom. We do this by naming one lucky person as the Possumblog Student Athlete of the Week!

This high honor, eagerly sought by perhaps every athlete at Auburn, serves to show that the joy of both sport and education are equally beneficial to a person. Or something.

IN ANY EVENT, this week’s PSAotW is none other than the petite Montgomery-born redhead Becca Bell. Miss Bell and her red hair compete as part of the NCAA National Championship track team (at a height of 5’-2�) and on the cross country squad (at a height of 5’-3�).

A junior pre-pharmacy major, she is a member of the Phi Eta Sigma Honor Society, Phi Sigma Pi Honor Society, Alpha Lambda Delta Honor Society, and the National Society of Collegiate Scholars, was named to the SEC Spring 2006 Honor Roll and was honored at the Tiger Torch banquet in April for her high GPA.

Congratulations Becca Bell, and keep up the smartness!

And now?

Well, right now I have to make a run back to Trussville to take Boy for his 11 a.m. orthodontist appointment. Be back after while, and yes, never fear, Possumblog Sport Center WILL be on the air. Just a bit later than usual.

Ain't technology grand?

Just went downstairs to the snack bar to get a drink, and before I got to the door heard the tell-tale "chi-chirp" of someone's two-way. Turned the corner, saw a guy standing there at the snack machine with the phone held out from his ear, ready to talk. chi-chirp "Well, they got crackers with cheese, and crackers with peanut butter, and they got chips--they got all kinds of stuff. You want any of that?"

The person on the other end was someone upstairs in our building. Nice to see the value of wireless communication systems is being utilized to its fullest.

Thursday Night Lights.

Had the opportunity to take Boy to the stadium last night so he could join the rest of his band members as they played to urge on the 8th grade football team. And took Catherine with me, too, simply because I needed to have the additional chore of looking after someone who couldn't be still even if she were anesthetized. And, of course, since we had to be there early, we also got to sit through the 7th grade game, too.

Left Rebecca and Ashley at home, because Mom would be home soon to see after them. I thought. She'd had a late afternoon doctor's appointment (having muscle spasms in her shoulder, it turns out) and last I heard, she was on her way home.

Got to the stadium and watched the 7th graders play their game, and right in the middle my phone rang. It was coming in from Ashley's cell phone. Panic, of course. Answer, turns out it was Rebecca, who, for some reason, had been instructed by her big sister to call me--and waste both Oldest's and my cell phone minutes--to "remind" me that I was supposed to be at a building committee meeting at church.

1. I had already called to tell the rest of the guys I had to be at the game and would miss the meeting. Called them on Wednesday, as a matter of fact.

2. It is the height of gall for Oldest, who refuses to take any responsibility for remember her own comings and goings, to feel as though she should keep up with MY schedule.

3. And finally, there was NO REASON to use HER cell phone, NOR for her to tell Rebecca to call me.

This was the logical sequence in my brain, but what came back through the phone, since I could barely hear anything, was 'I took care of it, and don't waste my minutes on things that don't concern you.' Bliip. Grr.

Game finally got over, with the 7th graders falling to a very weak Mtn. Brook team 28-0. It was not a pretty game by either side. Went down to take Cat to the restroom, then got us a burger before the next game.

Finished that up, looked at my watch, saw that it was around 7 or so, decided to call back to the house to make sure Mom was home and all was okay. "Hello?"

Sounded like Rebecca, so I asked her if Mom had gotten home okay. "This is me." OH, it was Reba--sounded just like Bec. Probably all the noise, because the band had just kicked in. Laughed, asked her how the doctor visit went.

"Is Rebecca with you?"

Hmm. So that's what your blood feels like when it turns to ice.

"Uhh, nooo--she's there at the house."

"No, I can't find her and the car's gone and Ashley's not here and I don't know what's going on and I've been all over this house and no one's here..."

And then the sobs started. Oh good Lord, what in the world is happening!?

A billion things start coursing through a parent's mind, and 999,999,999 of them are bad.

I was about to go get Boy and head back to the house to figure things out when I heard Reba say Rebecca had just come downstairs, and found out from her that Oldest had gone over to her aunt and uncle's house who live around the block from us in our neighborhood.

1) Apparently Rebecca had been in her room listening to music on her headphones and didn't hear Mom and didn't realize she'd been missed.

2) Apparently, Ashley was under the impression she could just come and go as she pleased without telling anyone other than her sister.

3) Apparently, Ashley was under the impression that the most important thing in the entire world was to deliver some styrofoam bees to her little cousins, who weren't even at the house, having gone to soccer practice.

4) Apparently, Ashley was under the impression that it was a good idea to waste time having her secretary call me to remind me of something she had no business interfering in, yet was incapable of picking up the phone to call someone to make sure they were even at home, before flouncing out the door on her stupid gas-wasting errand.

At least Reba got calmed down a bit--enough for me to tell her to call over and make sure Oldest was actually where she'd said she would be, and to call me back if she wasn't, and I'd come home.

Grr.

Sat there and stewed, wondering why nothing can ever be simple. I suppose I should have gone on home, but this is only the second time Jonathan has been able to play, and it would be unfair to him to snatch him away, just so I could go home and be unkind to his unthinking sister.

I guess it's probably best I wasn't there, anyway. Although Reba needed support and sympathy after getting such a shock AND after coming home from a doctor's visit, I think I would have made the emotional turmoil even worse because I was not in a mood to be kind and understanding and considerate of someone's fragile teenaged sense of self-esteem.

Called back a little bit later and Oldest had managed to find her way back and Reba was in the middle of explaining to her the idea that she doesn't get to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. Again, probably better from a guilt point of view to have the image of your mother crying, alone at the kitchen table, burned into your memory. Anything I would have said would have only made her defensive and snotty.

And she was very contrite, especially after being made to call Reba's mom and dad, who'd also been called in the initial "where is she!?" search before we found out where she was supposed to be, and were all wound up in an emotional tizzy just like Reba. Apparently, it was quite an intense conversation with Grandpa, as well.

Anyway, I can at least say that Jonathan can play the fool out of a snare drum.

I've heard him play a few things before on his bell kit, and he's had a couple of concerts, but this was the first time when I could really see him do his stuff, and the little stinker is good. And not only that--the whole middle school band is good--you can tell they know their stuff when you can see them leaning and jumping and doing horn swings and junk like that, and it still sounds nice and tight.

And the second game turned out pretty good, too. 19-14 in our favor, and it included a last second goal line stand.

So, you know, it all turned out okay.

Although I could still punch a hole through a door.

KITTY!

NOT!

::sigh:: I even went out and took pictures this morning, and went off and left the camera sitting on the kitchen table. And then, when I got here this morning, there was yet another side-effect of the weird thing that's happening with my e-mail notifications. If I can catch a spammer early enough, I can use the MT Blacklist tool that has a handy link in the e-mail. But when you don't get your notification until this morning, you find that a vast grotesque horde of comment spammers has found a home, and even after you blacklist the ones you're finally notified about, you look on your list of comments and see that there are about 40 more that HAVEN'T been caught yet, and you have to go through and manually delete them, and that takes up time, and makes me very angry. [UPDATE 2:29 p.m.--Well, at least there is a reasonable explanation of the e-mail troubles.]

And I can't relax and look at a picture of a kitty, because I left the camera at home! GRR!

::sigh::

Okay, when it's funny, it's funny.

Even when it's The Onion, which despite not being all that funny now, has a long history of funniosity. And apparently has a closeted Alabama fan in the editorial department.

One must admire...

...any woman who can correctly use the term "all het up" when speaking about the childishness of wee socialists.

Animals in the News!

Mad deer disease may spread with saliva

Okay, no kissing any more deer for me.

Penguins being sold to Canadian buyer

BLAST! And DRAT!! It seems Possumblog Kitchens is dealing with a competitor trying to get into the flightless bird snack market. Never fear, however. I predict sales of Cornguins, the cornbread-battered and deep-fried Emperor penguin on a stick treat beloved by millions, will continue to be available at an economical price. We've just purchased another penguin farm in Eufaula, and that combined with our main ranch in Greenville will ensure that you and your family are provided the highest-quality penguin possible.

Hmm? Not that kind of penguin? A hockey team?

Never mind.

Next: Streaming video records sea lions' lives

If popular enough, look for Disney to release The Sea Lion King for the Christmas movie season.

And finally--Remains of ancient reptile are found

Disputing the discovery, White House press doyenne Helen Thomas said the report was insulting, noting that she was very much still alive.

Postprandial Musings

Had to make a jaunt across to Southside to go to the credit union. Absolutely gorgeous day out there--lots of blue sky and sunshine, light breeze, 86 degrees. And those are real degrees, not the Frenchy made-up kind.

Some thoughts: Even a very ugly city looks pretty good when the sun's shining. Birmingham's not ugly (mostly) but it does have some graceless parts that are an insult to concrete and asphalt. But you know, even alleyways and medical gas enclosures can look striking with the right light. Mostly.

The color green. I know I said earlier it's my least favorite color, but I forgot about redheaded girls. Redheaded girls wearing green makes green my favorite color. It's even more favoriter when the green happens to be a corduroy miniskirt. Just sayin'...

Speaking of clothes, I think I messed up today. I have on my white shirt with the thin, closely-spaced blue stripes, and my heather blue pants, and for some reason I thought that I would be able to successfully wear a tie that has diagonal dark blue stripes interspersed with a sternly geometric series of interlocking bits of white, gray, and light blue. This is a close match for it. The overall effect looks bad. The colors don't really match the stripes in my shirt or the color of my pants, and the pattern of the tie clashes with the stripes on the shirt. The question is whether to go ahead and give up and take my tie off, or act like it's supposed to look like crap. Sorta like David Letterman's insistence on wearing light-colored socks. Every day.

Constructing a dome over Legion Field? Golly, that's just a great idea. In fact, it's such a good idea, we should put one over the whole city! That would be cool. Of course, it would make it much harder to fly around in our flying cars, but hey.

Anyway, it sure is nice outside.

That's just weird.

Maybe not to you, but it is to me. The way the comments are set up on Possumblog, I am supposed to receive an e-mail notification when someone leaves a comment. This is one of the ways that I preserve the illusion that I constantly monitor the silly thing and why I tend to chime in so quickly. But for the past three days or so (might have been longer, but I haven't noticed), I haven't been getting the notifications until late in the evening, and they come all at once.

Computers are very strange.

O si yo!

Catherine is studying about Indian tribes in Alabama right now in social studies. I remember doing the same thing in fourth grade, and to this day I still get in my head the sing-songy set of names of the four major tribes that I had remembered back then so I could remember it on my test: "Choctaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Creek."

Anyway, she had brought home some recipes the other day for some breads and fried corn meal type things, and the printouts were promptly buried under a mound of other stuff on the kitchen table and forgotten.

Until last night, five minutes before we had to leave to go to church.

"Where are my recipes, Daddy?"

"On the table somewhere, why?"

"Because I'm supposed to cook one of them and bring it to school with me tomorrow."

::sigh:: Sure would have been nice if she'd mentioned that when she brought the recipes home. ::yet another sigh:: Also would be nice if she could actually be trusted with a hot stove, seeing as how in the absence of that trust, it would fall to her parents to complete this assignment.

She had settled on Grape Dumplings, which is an obvious choice, in that we didn't have any grape juice in the house, which meant a stop at the grocery store on the way home to get some. You know, just like back in the olden days.

Anyway, to church, to the store, to home, Cat in the tub, and Mom turned loose to boil dough. While the fire was being stoked, I was tasked with finding for our little student some information about how the Cherokee got their food. Seems there was ANOTHER part of the assignment SOMEone had forgotten about. (By the way, it seems I was wrong about the part about them going to the grocery store--at least back in the 1800s, they actually had to grow food--in the GROUND!!)

BUT--at least this assignment did have a benefit. Those grape dumplings are pretty darned good! Miss Reba brought some upstairs while I was on the computer--they taste like biscuits with grape jelly. Interesting bit of family lore, too. Seems Reba's grandmother used to make the same things, saying it was just an old family recipe. It's possible it could have been from the Indian side of the family, or not (it's a simple dish, after all), but the memory of smelling and tasting them brought back some fond memories for her of visiting her grandparent's farm when she was young. (And yes, I'm think I'm sorta jealous that I didn't get any recipes or advice or wisdom handed down from my Cherokee g-g-grandmother, although I imagine she'd say to watch out for Washington politicians.)

Anyway, Catherine thought they were good, too, and was even more excited that she'd get to tell everyone in class that she--with her sparkly blue eyes and light brown hair--is a tiny part Cherokee herself.

In case you were wondering...

...it's also Mailout Thursday, which is why there is no other content up this morning, except this post explaining the lack of content.

Not to play favorites, but…

…we simply MUST have a memetheme for today’s Axis of Weevil Thursday Three! AND SO, today we ask you to think about a few of your favorite things. And don’t start humming the song until it’s time!

As with all other episodes of our long-running series, anyone is free to participate by either leaving a comment below with your answers, or a link to your blog where your answers can be found.

Now then, let’s get right into it, shall we? Of course we shall!

1) What is your favorite color? (Yeah, I know it’s an easy one, but they get a LOT harder.)

Okay, now you can start humming the song.

2) Of all the items on the following list:

Raindrops on roses
Whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles
Warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
Cream colored ponies
Crisp apple strudels
Doorbells
Sleigh bells
Schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eye lashes
Silver white winters that melt into spring

Which item is your favorite, AND, which item is your LEAST favorite? (See, told you it gets a lot harder!)

And finally,

3) What are three of your favorite memories from childhood?

Okay, now--take a moment to think about those and then let fly with your answers.

As for mine:

1) Blue. And my least favorite is green, even though it’s kin to blue.

2) Favorite would be obviously be “girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,� in that such a thing incorporates my favorite color (see #1 above) and my favorite thing in general. (Which would be girls, not white dresses.) Least favorite would probably be brown paper packages tied up with string. Why? Well, no one uses string anymore except lunatics, so it would probably turn out to be something explodish or gruesome, like kitten schnitzel. I also would probably take issue with annoying, non-melting snowflakes, but I don’t have enough experience with them to make a truly informed decision about their favorite status.

3) I remember the overwhelming joy at getting the Sears Christmas catalog in the mailbox, and I remember the thrill of getting to go eat at The Ensley Grill cafeteria (or out to eat ANYwhere, for that matter), and I remember one particular episode when I was probably about 4 or 5.

My mom was getting dressed and putting on her makeup in the bathroom, and I had found a little plastic piece that had come off the bottom of the little roll-around canister vacuum cleaner we had. I showed it to her and she told me she could make it disappear. She waved her hands around and up and down, and by golly, she DID make it disappear! I giggled and laughed for what seems like forever (at least through the fog of forty years) and tried to find where she’d hidden it, but couldn’t figure out how she’d done that or where the piece of plastic had disappeared to. By the time I was finally old enough that I figured she would tell me, she’d forgotten it had ever happened.

Or so she says.

SO, there you go.

Maybe I've grown jaded.

But I have to say the event in the park wasn't all that great this year. Maybe it was just the time of day, or the fact that all the teevee personalities were off eating lunch or fixing their toupees or something, but it really seemed bland. I did pick up an NBC13 Weather+Plus Severe Weather Guide and Redundancy Primer, which is very slick and shiny, and a similar one from ABC 33/40, which is also slick and shiny, but not nearly so thick. Sorta like James Spann's scalp, but not his hair.

Anyway, to spice things up, I suggest next year we have a tornado. And a fire. And an earthquake. And maybe some funnel cake vendors.

Gosh, there's a shocker.

Negotiator says no progress with Iran

BRUSSELS, Belgium - A top European Union negotiator said Wednesday that "endless hours" of talks with Iran about its nuclear program have failed to make any progress, while the Iranian president said U.N. sanctions would not stop Tehran from enriching uranium. [...]

Why, that's just inconceivable! It's almost as if the Iranians have no fear at all of strongly worded memoranda!

Adventures in Headline Writing!

W. Va. lawmaker embarasssed by photos

Press not bothered at all by use of additional consonants.

I suppose this means...

Express Oil picks new ad agency

...the death of Otis the Possum. (Backstory here, and here, and here, and here.)

I suppose it was good while it lasted--a possum out there mixing it up with the other corporate icons and such. Aside from him being more ratlike than possumy. And aside from the whole idea seemingly arising from some ad guy's fever dreams from that wild time in Ensenada. And aside from the fact that it just was dumb. But still--possums don't get a lot of attention in the advertising world, so maybe it will give other possums a boost for future ad work.

My only hope is that they at least have the decency to send him on his way to the big ad mascot home in the sky in an appropriate way.

You know who you don't hear a lot about?

Rutherford B. Hayes. And strikingly enough, you don't hear a lot of people naming their kids Rutherford.

That's just plumb weird.

Man charged with stealing Auburn laptop from Columbia hotel

COLUMBIA, S.C. (AP) — A 53-year-old homeless man is charged with stealing a laptop that belonged to the Auburn's football team and had the team's game plan.

Apparently wanting to gain some advantage over Willy the Wino's tough bunch of urban campers. Or something.

Authorities in Columbia, South Carolina, say Michael Stockman was arrested yesterday and charged with grand larceny after a resident recognized him from surveillance video aired on television and called 9-1-1.

The laptop was stolen last week from the Columbia Plaza Hotel, where the Tigers were staying. It was taken from the offensive meeting room following dinner on the eve of the Tigers' 24-to-17 victory over South Carolina.

So, does the Columbia Plaza usually have such a high traffic by homeless guys that this one didn't manage to arouse any suspicion? But talking about suspicious...

Auburn coach Tommy Tuberville said the laptop is worth $15,000.

FIFTEEN K for a LAPTOP? Was it made of solid gold? No WONDER the stupid thing got lifted!

I think if I had a $15,000 laptop, I would make sure it had a full-time guard carrying it around like the US nuclear launch codes. Better yet, I think I would explore using a three-ring binder and a little chalkboard.

Richland County Sheriff's spokesman Lieutenant Chris Cowan says Stockman did not know the laptop belonged to the Tigers.

Uhmm--and it would have mattered how, exactly? And seems like the lurid orange-and-blue stripes and the Tiger Eye logo would have been a clue.

Authorities are still searching for a second man caught on surveillance tape.

I bet he's the guy that got away with the $3,000 battery charger and the $900 printer cable.

Well, I'll tell you this...

What we WON’T be doing is using the Internets. I noticed something weird last night when I tried to access my office mail from home, but didn’t think too much about it. Until this morning, that is, when I got the exact same “HTTP 502 Proxy Error - Not enough storage is available to process this command. (8)� page that I’d gotten from home.

Hmm. Something wrong with one of the big valves in the basement, it seems. I have a feeling it’s probably related to the recent spike in malware that our filters didn’t catch. I doubt I was the only person who got messed up (shoot, given the level of computer savvy around here, I know I wasn’t the only one) so I figure they’ve taken down a server or something to try fix their problems. I saw our department’s MIS guy the other day and he said they’ve pretty much resigned themselves to having to go through every machine in the department to fix things. I suppose I need to rid my hard drive of those racy daguerreotypes of the Ziegfeld Follies girls.

Anyway, all well and good, except for the time being at least, I’ve lost my only portal to the world beyond these four walls! (Insert sound of melancholy piano chord) Well, except for the real portal called a “door� that I could use to walk outside the building, if I should so desire. And I might just so desire, considering that there’s the annual Community Awareness shindig out in the park today. All sorts of folks supposed to be out there, such as the po-lices and the teevee weather celebrities and such. Might be worth a trek to see what there is to see.

And while I’m out there, I think I’ll do something else--traipse over to the library, where I will find that I have e-mailed this to myself, and then will take a moment to post it so that everyone won’t think I’ve been run over by a car while waddling across the roadway in the dark.

I imagine there is probably a way to update Possumblog via e-mail--I know there is for Blogger, but I haven’t figured out if Moveable Type/Mu.nu can as well. That would certainly simplify things a bit.

ANYway, as long as the big tube here is clogged up, this will be it for posting and being able to access my web e-mail or just about any other thing for some undetermined amount of time. Hopefully, only a day, but you never know when it comes to these silly computers.

BUT WAIT! I was just now about to go across the wilderness, and checked one more time, and HOORAY!! The pipeline's a'pumping again! (Insert sound of happy saloon-style pianoforte music)

But never fear; I'll still go take a stroll through the park later on and see what sorts of free junk I can snag.

Now then.

I wonder what we'll do for fun tomorrow?

Perpetuating the Stereotype, Volume n+1

Stabbing apparently in Athens over football video game

Okay, first ignore the ineptly written headline--imagine it saying something more along the lines of, "Athens man stabbed in dispute over football video game." And obviously, we ain't talking about Athens, Greece.

Here's the story:

ATHENS, Ala. (AP) — A football fan is facing an attempted murder charge after allegedly stabbing a Limestone County man during an argument over a video game.

Sheriff Mike Blakely said James Rodney Wilson, 34, of Tanner and Lance Eugene Borchert, 34, were playing PlayStation football at Borchert's home Saturday.

"Borchert quit playing around 1:30 a.m. and got into bed with his wife and Wilson came in and stabbed him in the back with a butcher knife," Blakely said.

Blakely said the stabbing apparently occurred because Tennessee beating Auburn, not in a real game, but on a video game.

"I can only assume Wilson was on the losing end," he said. [...]

One would also probably be safe in assuming large volumes of spiritous beverages had been consumed throughout the morning, midday, afternoon, evening, and night by all parties.

One must also assume James Rodney is not a true Auburn man, in that he allowed his emotions to get the better of him and stabbed his friend in the back in rage. Obviously, a much better revenge for all concerned would have been for James Rodney to allow the video game score to remain as it was, and instead run up the score with his friend's wife, so to speak.

You know, because they're peaceful.

2 Turks surrender after hijacking plane

Are pixels in that short a supply?

How not to write a headline--Governor offers $ 5-grand rewards for four Birmingham homicides.

I read that as "...five dollar grand rewards..."

Look, if you're going to try to be the hard-boiled J. Jonah Jameson-type, just use "Gov Ponies Up 5 Grand Rewards in 4 Slayings." If you want to look like you actually have a lick of sense, use something like "Governor offers five thousand dollar rewards in four homicides." But please don't use 'dollar sign-numeral-slang.'

['Ponies' also being a reference to the last guberantorial campaign, when Riley's opponent had a clever songster come up with a parody song to ridicule the governor riding a horse in his campaign spots. "Riley, Ridin' on a Pony" (sung to the tune of "Dooley") was quite a hit for a while.]

RAISED-HACKLE TUESDAY!!

AKA Vexed Tuesday, Hacked and Vexed Tuesday, 'I'm Putting In My Angry Eyes' Tuesday, Royally Peeved Tuesday, Irate Tuesday, or Filled with Righteous Indignation Tuesday.

Leave it to Miss Janis to make the perfect suggestion for an appropriate content-filler for Tuesdays:

The carpenter is dragging his feet on these closet doors, so I'm simmering in a passive-aggressive stew today. I have a bed coming in tomorrow, and I'd hoped to have that project done and cleaned up before then.

I need some attitude adjustment and it's way too early to drink.

Does anyone else have their hackles up over something?

Excellent idea!

If you've got a gripe, tell about it here. Won't solve anything, but at least you can let off some steam. Just remember to use @#*&^!! in lieu of steam.

The amazing stories you find...

...when you have a Google News Alert with the keyword "Volvo"--Woman cited for deer possession

Read it all--and just remember, this took place in Oregon, not around here.

(Because let's face it, if it had occurred here, she would have had the good sense to field dress it before stuffing it in the trunk.)

UPDATE: But speaking of stereotypes, I think it's best we not even discuss this one.

Well, it's Tuesday, so that means...

...well, nothing, really. Thursdays are easy, because you have the Thursday Three, and Friday's have Friday Catblogging and Possumblog Sports Center, but Tuesdays? What good can come from a Tuesday!?

Suggestions for thrilling Tuesday content greatly appreciated!

Hmm.

That's odd--Colonial Properties selling Trussville centers

Very interesting--the Target/Home Depot anchored shopping center is very new, and the second phase up on the hill above just opened yesterday. The way the article reads, the sale was done to keep good ol' Bobby Lowder from showing an overall loss due to pressures over on the residential side of the business, but it does seem strange to sell your newest creation before the paint's even dry.

I just hope that whoever bought it keeps it up as nicely as Colonial keeps their properties--I'm not a big fan of the folks in the management of Colonial, but aside from that, they do run attractive shopping centers.

Well, it IS the Fall Season...

Interstate ramp damaged, traffic diverted as 18-wheeler loses steel coil [Link and story updated]

Yet another tractor-trailer load of a giant heavy thing overturns on a local Interstate. For once, this didn't punch any holes in any roadways or hurt anyone, but it's only a matter of time before something truly horrible happens if companies don't find a better way of transporting these coils.

I suggest motorizing them and letting them roll themselves down the road instead of loading them on a trailer.

The Artful Dodger

Or roger-dodger, as it were.

My appointment was for 2:30 yesterday, and I got there and was called back in short order. Although not quite as short as it could be--the nurse called me, and I got up to walk back and there was a young lady who was walking in in front of me, and she seemed to surprise the nurse, who immediately began talking to her about something. I stood there patiently as they chatted, and when they finished, the nurse looked at me. "And who are you?"

"I'm Oglesby--you just called my name!"

She apologized--the girl was her daughter-in-law, and she was surprised to see her and thought something might be wrong. Golly, and here I thought it was supposed to be all about me.

Blood pressure, sit and wait, go to lab, sit and wait, go sit down and get stuck and get three tubes of blood drawn. Thankfully, it was remarkably pain free. Went back out, sat and waited. Got my numbers and went back down to the exam room. Sat and waited.

FINALLY got the doc to come in. Chatted for a while, bloodwork all looked okay, blood pressure looked okay, still seems to think I should lose weight, even though I told them I only weigh 145 pounds. He listened to my chest and back, talked about setting up a stress test sometime at some indeterminate future date (which is admittedly easier than setting up one on a past date).

"Okay, and now what about your prostate?"

"It said it was fine, and couldn't come to the phone right now." Although that was my internal monologue, the audible one wasn't much different. "If there's anyway to not, I sure would appreciate it. I realize you don't like it any more than I do [Which could be a lie, but it's one I'm willing to believe--Ed.], but I can confirm I haven't had any problems."

He seemed to waver, and I continued to plead my case as I looked at his bratwurst-sized fingers. He finally decided to get a few more blood tests and a PSA (which ain't no public service announcement) and if everything looked okay, he was willing to wait for my six month checkup.

SO, he wrote down some more tests for them to do (and luckily the phlebotomist had already drawn out enough when I first went in there) and so I had to go back and wait for a bit longer. After some paperwork on their part, I got the ol' tiny plastic cup to fill. "Right there's the restroom, just leave it in the silver-colored box."

I usually like a bit more privacy--the sample dispensing room was right beside the chair where they take blood, and there was an attractive young lady sitting in it. The chair, not the restroom. Anyway, I went on it and tried to pee as quietly as I could. There's really only two options--silent, or like an elephant after drinking 20 gallons of beer. Got a cupful, opened the little stainless steel box and EYYYEYIKES! My pee would be sharing space with the pee of the young lady sitting in the seat outside the door!

I have to say, this created a very odd feeling in me--equal parts revulsion at having my bodily fluids cohabitating with those of an unrelated person, yet also an odd sense of intimacy. I decided neither thought was truly appropriate, and settled upon allowing my competitive nature to take over, and quietly expressed no small amount of pride and satisfaction that MY sample was approximately twice the volume of hers.

Thus assured of my overwhelming superiority, I washed up and opened the door and made a concerted effort to not make any eye contact with anyone.

And that was it--paid my money and I was out the door.

SO, as long as nothing odd comes up--such as finding out my urine tests says I'm pregnant--looks like I'm okay for another few months. "Okay" being a rather elastic concept in my mind--I figure if I've strength enough to blog, things are going pretty well.

AGGHH!!!

I ran out of some of my medication this weekend and since it had no refills left, I told the automated phone system at the drug store to call the doctor's office and get them re-up my Rx.

But it turns out they couldn't refill it just yet.

You know, I didn't realize it's been over a year since I'd been in to see the good doctor. And I use "good" only in the sense of a hyperextended sense of faux propriety. Not that he's a bad doctor, he's not; it's just that as I mentioned the last time I saw him, he's a retired Airborne guy, and has giant gnarled soldier hands the size of beef shanks. I had vowed after my last lady doctor went into retirement that I would do all I could to find another fine-fingered physician to replace her, but time was short when I contacted this fellow, and then I let the task slip my mind.

And now I'm filled with adverse anticipation and a keen hope that he isn't in the mood to ride the fenceline 'round the back 40, so to speak. But I can't get my meds until he gives me a brisk once over, and so I went ahead and scheduled it for this afternoon, meaning that ONCE MORE, I have to stop playing for a while here and get some actual work done.

Whee.

THERE you are!

A nice weekend spent not doing what should have been done! No grass cutting, no trips to drop things off at the thrift store, a hearty Italianate meal on Friday, ice cream cake on Saturday, a new quarter begun for Sunday school and everyone was actually there and ready to teach, and the video camera got a workout.

I tell you what--I've got some kids with scary-good comic timing. After all the gift unwrapping Saturday afternoon, Catherine wanted to go ride her bicycle in the street. As is our agreement, she has to have an adult out there to help watch for cars (we have a few too many people who think any straight stretch of road is the equivalent of the front straight at Talladega). I had started a new disc in the video camera, and thought I might get a few shots of her zipping along happily on her bike, which I did, and then got her off to the driveway for a moment and began asking her some questions about history and such.

"Hey, Cat--tell me, who was the first President of the United States?"

"GEORGE WASHINGTON!"

"Very good--and his wife's name was?"

::pause::

"Um, Helen Washington?"

And from there evolved another fifteen minutes of schtick that would have made Burns and Allen ashamed to have even be on stage. I don't know where she got such chops. And then the birthday girl came outside to see what was going on, and she's just as funny. Where in the world did that come from?!

IN OTHER NEWS, looks like our little bridge over the Pinchgut is finally open now--and just as I predicted, it's a noble, safe, modern thing that completely blocks the view of what it is that you're crossing over. Gasoline was down to $2.05 this morning. (Of course, what most of you don't know is that for people who vote Republican, we've been buying gas at $1.03 for years now. Yep, sure have. Big secret, though. Don't tell anyone.) My mom's doing okay--went and picked her up after work Friday so she could go out to eat with us. She said my car rode too rough. Almost as bad as her Infiniti G35. We got some rain early Sunday morning before the sun came up. Probably a bunch more stuff, but right now, I have to go to our wonderful Monday morning staff meeting.

Say goodnight, Gracie.