Possumblog

An unfortunate likeness to a real family...

…in that it seems as though nowadays we don’t “see” each other (virtually, at least) except at funerals.

One of my long-time blogfriends, Francesca Watson, sent along some sad information on a fellow blogwriter who passed away suddenly.

Do you remember Patricia Tryon? She had a blog called “Out of the Frying Pan” that started in 2000 or 2001 or so. She was a frequent commenter on my blog when it was up, and was close to Jordana [Adams]. In any event, we found each other on Facebook a couple of years ago and kept in touch - she's been a huge encouragement to me recently during some tough stuff. And I just found out that she died suddenly in her sleep last night [Saturday, April 14]. I promised her daughter that I'd reach out to any bloggers who might know her - couldn't remember if she was someone you connected with or not. If so, would you mind posting something?

It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to just sit down and keep up with online folks, but when I did have the time, I remember every once in a while stopping by to enjoy Pat’s blog, and her occasional pearls of commentary wit on other sites.

I looked back through my stuff, and it looks like we never corresponded. Despite having never met her in person, the fact is that I still appreciate the gift she gave to me and to others of her writing and photography, and I hope her family comes to know just how many people she helped and influenced.

Francesca sent me the following from Pat’s daughter and asked that I post it—if you’re in the Tryon family’s neck of Colorado, I know they would appreciate your stopping by, and I know they will all appreciate your prayers for them.

All,

Thank you so much for your thoughts, prayers, love, and support. You are all helping us get through this. As I've told many of you, my mother only stayed in touch with people whom she deeply liked and admired, and we appreciate your beautiful and sincere gestures.

You are all invited to attend a funeral Mass that will be held on Friday, April 20th at Guardian Angels Catholic Church at 10:00 am. The address is 15179 Weld County Road 7, Mead, Colorado.

At noon the family will attend a private burial.

At 2:30 pm everyone will be welcome at an afternoon luncheon at the Parish Hall of Guardian Angels. We would be very glad for your company. […]

Again, we are very grateful for all the kind words and acts of love we've been receiving. Knowing and hearing how much she is cherished is a real source of strength.

Peace,

Alys

Well, I give up. UPDATED: IT'S A MIRACLE!!

In the past few months, I have been quite diligent in keeping the Chinese spammerbots off of here. It's been hard--sometimes they hit late at night when I'm sleeping, so I might wake up to 100 or so spam comments, and each one has to be deleted individually. If I was lucky, I could get them right when they started and ban their IP before they got too many posted.

Well, I was off Monday (swapped off days with the other guy in the office), and I had already been off on Friday, so when I got to work Tuesday, I was beyond swamped with work. So, no real time to check and make sure I didn't have lots of spambabies. But, it wouldn't have made a difference, because the new broom at work sent down word that all Internet usage was going to be closely monitored, and anyone using the futuristic 486 computers we're saddled with for anything other than work-work would be in BIG TROUBLE. So when I got home Tuesday night and checked up on things, I had been hit with A THOUSAND spam comments.

I didn't get to do too much--banned a few IPs, deleted probably 250 or so. Still, not even a real dent in things. Last night, we had church, so no time to check, then all day today, then tonight--finally got a chance to check it again. Over TWO THOUSAND spam comments.

It's beyond me--unless Movable Type has some hidden way to delete massive quantities of spam, I've basically lost the battle to keep this crap off of here. It takes at least a couple of minutes to go through the steps to delete a comment, so that's 4000 minutes worth of mindless clicking to get rid of what I've got built up.

So, if you see spam on here, do the obvious thing and don't click on it. And say a little curse on my behalf for the inscrutable little bastages who keep messing up my once pristine little corner of the Web.

UPDATE: 2/12/10 1:18 p.m.

Well, so I gots myself off work early today because of the snow we're having (we've got about an inch or so here at Casa de Possum), so after I got here and got the kids situated outside giving themselves hypothermia and frostbite, I decided to see what the damage was. In addition to seeing I had some comments on this post from some of the ol' regulars, I also noticed that somehow, some way, SOME one has gone through and deleted all of those thousands of spam comments! I don't know if this was done back at Mu.nu Central Control, or somehow the mysterious Pixy Misa heard I was having problems, but I'm back down to where it was, and I'm a happier camper.

Obviously, not happy enough to start blogging again, but happier nonetheless.

Words of Wisdom

Axis of Weevil-style! Many of you know (at least in the virtual sense) Larry Anderson of KudzuAcres--noted bass player, developer of the Free Mercedes promotion, occasional patron of Billy Joe Bob's BBQ Emporium--but many others of you still might not realize Larry is an entrepreneur, which is a French word for "smart American."

Despite the economic gloom of late, Larry's company managed to do pretty well last year, and is on track to do even better this year. His business advice is distilled down in this article from The Huntsville Times.

Oddly enough, none of his business advice involves blogging. Then again, none of it involves rebuilding Weber carburetors, either. Or gunfire. Or really attractive women in swimwear.

Hmm.

Maybe being an entrepreneur ain't what it's cracked up to be.

ANYway, congratulations to Larry, his partners, and to their employees on their success!

Two posts in one week!?

Well, I can't help myself--I got home yesterday to an excited bunch of kids who informed me I had a package on the doorstep, all the way from Utah! (The package, not the doorstep.)

Obviously, my first thought was that it was a package of lovely collectible Marie Osmond dolls as well as a torrid love note and several naughty pictures (like I get from her every year). However, when I saw the return address, I knew it must be something even better--and it was! It was from the Axis of Weevil's own Ambassador to the Beehive State, Nate McCord!

I busted open the box and was attacked by one of these little cuties. After prying its vicious snarling teeth off of my arm, I noticed the enclosed note:

Terry, the possum's a little gift for you that I just couldn't pass up.

I hope you and your family have a blessed and spiritual Christmas.

Merry Christmas to all your Oglesby clan from the Utah chapter of the Axis of Weevil.

Nate

Many thanks to Nate, although since the children saw this, I might not get to play with it as much as I'd like. Still, it is much appreciated and gets a special place of honor alongside the silver Johnny Lightning Corvette Sting Ray.

Also of interest was the little hangtag that came with the animal, full of intriguing facts about opossums. Did you know:

The opossum hideouts are located in a variety of areas including stumps, haystacks, vine tangles, attics, garages, road culverts, hollow trees, rock piles, crannies, under buildings, and in the abandoned burrows of other animals.

Okay, well, I do like the garage. It's really difficult to keep a rolling toolbox and do any kind of engine work in a hollow tree.

Opossums are not territorial and do not maintain separate home ranges.

First I've heard of that. I guess I should quit walking around my house marking my property line with pee.

They are exceptionally non-aggressive and non-destructive. They will not harm people or pets.

Yeah, right. You just keep thinking that, m'kay?

They are more immune to many diseases than the other animals and are far less likely to carry rabies.

That frothing at the mouth? Just root beer foam.

Opossums are beneficial to the environment because they eat pests, snails, and slugs.

Lemme tell you, it's not easy bein' green.

They have a remarkable resistance to poisonous snakebite such as the rattlesnake, cottonmouth, Russell's viper, and Asiatic cobra.

I credit my remarkable resistance to snakebite to be the result of being scared of them enough to not get bitten.

Opossums do not hibernate, and they are active at night.

That's why you see so many possums at all-night raves.

ANYway, that's your possum fix for the year. Thanks once more to Nate for making this all possible!

Huzzah!

I which I rejoice at having my nomination selected for today's Ball of the Day!

My thanks to the editorial staff of Bolus, and to Modern Mechanix, from which the item was shamelessly stolen.

Oh, that's just crazy.

Or maybe it's just a matter of consolidation.

Anyway, as you know, I gave up blogging over a year ago.

Now some of you might snicker and point to such things as this post for evidence to the contrary, but you have to admit, compared to those times in the distant past when I might post ten or twelve multi-hundred-word, thoughtily-involved, occasionally mildly humorous posts a day, the current version is about as close to moribund as Possumblog could be, short of actually, you know, being really for real, gone-on-to-my-reward dead.

Why do I mention this?

Because I noticed something peculiar the other day--over in the sidebar at the very bottom, I was ranked as a "Marauding Marsupial" on the The Truth Laid Bear's Ecosystem. And today? A "Large Mammal."

Now friends, that's just bizarre. In its prime when I was writing thousands of words a day, with traffic on the order of a couple thousand unique hits per day, it was exceedingly rare for Possumblog to ever even get past the Slimy Mollusc stage. Oh, there were the times when it might even get Adorable Rodent status, but Large Mammal!? I don't think that ever happened.

So why now? I don't post regularly, the content of what I do wind up posting is weaker than the roots of Joe Biden's hair plugs (and not even half as funny) and yet, at least for today, I'm ranked as number 838.

Well, for one, all the junk I wrote in the past is still up and available for Googleering, so I reckon even if I did actually die, the site would still be reasonably well-trafficked by people searching for "all the "dumb guys" are running a race but the good guys will give up and come over to the concession stand where you'll be waiting with a towel and a h".

Quite a comfort, there, eh?

But I think there's probably something else happening (and I'm sure someone else has probably already noticed it and commented on it, and I just haven't seen it), but I think the huge number of Citizen Journalists-type blogs are being replaced by a fewer, larger, groupier blogs.

Let's face it, writing full-time is difficult if you actually have a full-time job. It's also difficult to keep things fresh and topical and entertaining with a one-member staff (even if you're a comedic and intellectual giant such as myself). Over the years, my guess is people have developed an affinity for a more select number of sites, ones that they trust to deliver whatever counterbalance they might seek from the traditional media sources and that do so with a certain level of expected quality or competence. With those expection also come one forced by the available technology, namely that there's going to be a LOT of content, and near constant coverage of any story, and the general result of all that means more than one person is going to have to be writing the thing.

Sorta like those things people called "newspapers."

So, anyway, I say the number of working, useful, usable blogs is shrinking (although obviously the potential readership isn't), and I suppose Possumblog happens to be the accidental beneficiary of that shakeout. It's not quite dead enough, and apparently that's good enough to get some traffic these days.

WEIRDNESS UPDATE: Maybe yesterday's spike was just a fluke--today your humble marsupial is once again nothing higher than a Marauding Marsupial, ranked in the mid-2000s. (Which is still a good bit higher than I remember it being for most of the time I was doing a lot of blogging.)

Okay, now THIS is worth breaking silence for!

"Everywhere," indeed.

Accompanying story here, from McCalla's and The Birmingham News' own MAJ Mike Tomberlin.

Based solely upon the large number of comments from the previous post...

I have decided to start blogging all the time again!

Oh, come on--surely you must realize this is merely a sick, sick April Fool's prank!

Or not.

Happy, New Year?

Oh, and you just thought that because I'd quit blogging that I'd quit blogging. It's just that I've just been busier than a bee on a beaver attacking a one-armed paper-hanger who's watching a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest on teevee. Yes, THAT busy.

After I got back from the holidays, all my jobs have gotten going and everyone's running around like their hair's on fire, so there's been precious little opportunity to not blog. But I had some lunch minutes, and I did feel compelled to thank you all again for the advice about computers, and to apologize for ignoring it all and helping Middle Girl purchase a Toshiba A215 from Circuit City. It's super spiffy, with several orders of magnitude more hard drive space than my only-a-few-years-old HP Pavilion desktop, and we got ourselves a wireless router so she can hide in many places in the house and surreptitiously read trashy blogs about slow-moving, semi-arboreal pouched North American marsupials. Or do her homework, without being pestered by someone. SO that's nice.

Christmas was very nice, and I got some books and some ties and some shirts and a nice yardwork coat that will go nicely with my overalls and straw hat and perpetual dark stain of tobacky juice running out the corner of my mouth. Christmas is actually STILL nice, seeing as how the tree is still in place and automatically clicking on every evening and rotating and glimmering with its little sparkly lights. Seems a certain wife of mine (I won't name names) decided to start a new scrapbook project during the off-days, and spread huge amounts of paper and books and stickers and scissors and photos right out there in the middle of the floor of the den, which makes disassembling a lovely pre-lit genuine Chinese-made Martha Stewart Christmas tree awfully difficult. It would be easier had she (the unnamed wife) simply cleaned up her leavings once finished for the afternoon, but she has a tendency to create various exclusionary zones of craftwork that MUST NOT BE DISTURBED until she's good and ready to disturb them.

So, the tree's still up. Sorta festive, I must say. As is all the confetti on the floor.

Let's see, what else? I have a cold! It's really not that bad, unless it's really tuberculosis or SARS or bird flu or something and I just don't know how bad it really is. I figure Mucinex and Sucrets and a chaser of Lysol will fix it up pretty well, no matter what it is.

I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but that leaves me something to not blog about sometime later.

Finally!

Confirmation and recognition of my overwhelming genius.

Via several people who are even MORE overwhelmingly erudite and sophisticated than I am.

Not that I'm bitter.

Chet's In Heaven!

No, not like that.

I mean he's just really happy because we got an actual e-mail today, and that meant that Chet the E-Mail Boy got to swing into a flurry of activity (as flurrisome as he gets, at least) as he got busy transcribing it from Morse code to Linotype to a printed sheet for me to edit then back to the Linotype and then back to me with the final copy.

Gosh, this better be good:

from: Marc Velazquez
10:33 am (3 hours ago)
to: Terry Oglesby
date: Nov 6, 2007 10:33 AM
subject: Sonic Snack

Hey Terry!

Hey Marc!

I hope you'll forgive my "nudgings" to get you back into some kind of posting habit. I do miss the daily fun we had.

Sorry, Marc. But I just can't anymore. In the immortal words of Chief Joseph, "I will blog no more forever." Or something like that. So you'll never ever have a need to ever come back by here, because there won't be any more new material.

Then again, most of it was leftovers anyway...

With that said, please feel free to use the following for posting material: Have you seen and tried the new snack, Deep Fried Macaroni and Cheese Bites, from Sonic?

I've seen the commercials, but have not observed them in their natural habitat.

When I first saw the commercial I thought, "How did they get that from Terry?" You mentioned last week about the boys in the R&D Kitchen Lab were hard at work, thus my curiosity. The article I gave the link for mentions that Sonic is not the first to come up with this snack.

The closest Sonic to me is over 20 miles away, ergo no FMCB's for me yet.

Please shed some light on this snack scenario, oh Grand Poobah of AoW and Cornaguin creator!

Actually, this idea is one of Possumblog Kitchen's rejects.

As you know, we believe it's important to have a sharpened stick inserted into our foods, and we believe in large quantities. Ever tried to stick a wooden stick into a big bowl of mac and cheese and pick it up? Doesn't work very well. We wound up using that wagonwheel pasta stuff that has an axle hole in the middle, which worked pretty well, but then someone pointed out that there was no meat.

We tried working on a chili mac version, and that didn't work, either. Then we went back to the drawing board and decided to take some of our tender, farm-raised manatees and feed them a strict diet of macaroni and cheese, and as a result, we now have a new product--Mac'n'Cheesatees! All the rich, blubbery goodness of genuine Florida manatee, sprinkled thru'n'thru with tasty bits of pasta and wholesome American cheese, all wrapped up in a warm, crunchy cornbread-batter coating, and then deep fried in TRANS-FAT FREE OIL, and of course, served on a genuine hardwood dowel, precisely sharpened for your eating enjoyment!

So, you know, if Sonic wants to stick (so to speak) with their puny little puffs of macaroni and cheese, eh, whatever. I'd rather that they'd invest in more fresh-faced, tightly-packed leggy blonde corn-fed carhops, and find some way to do away with all the slack-jawed pimply doofus dudes. But that could just be me.

Or not.

[PS With the writers strike in Hollywood, this could be a golden opportunity for someone like you who has a talent for comedic writing. Not to mention your vast knowledge of fine Southern living!]

Since when did it take talent to write for Hollywood?

These people are supposed to be the cream of the creative crop, yet all I hear on the news are these goomers walking around and chanting the EXACT SAME "Two-four-six-eight-insert your insufferably twee demand here and attempt to make it rhyme with 'eight'" commie protester chant that's been around FOREVER! Buncha crappy hacks can't come up with something better than THAT!? And they want more money for it!? Please. I say it's time for studios to start outsourcing some of that work to Mumbai or Jakarta or Singapore. If you're gonna get rusty retreaded crap anyway, why not economize a bit?

Good thing I don't blog anymore or I'd have to say something about it.

Hope things are going well for you and the rest of the Oglesby clan. I'm already starting to get sick of seeing Christmas commercials, considering I'm still eating stolen "Halloween" candy.

Speaking of Oglesby clan. Odd how Marc segues right from asking about us to talking about eating stolen candy.

HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY PATRIOTISM!! I blame global warming!

There now.

But yes, we're all doing just fine, thank you for asking. And NONE of us are in jail!

Anymore.

As for Hallothanksgivchristmannukwanzyear'sday, I'm not tired of it yet. Marc, however...

I use the quote marks since the candy came from the Harvest celebration at church, or whatever euphemism they happened to label it with. I did get my own bag of candy, though, at the end of the night after manning the dinosaur bean-bag toss and picking up those *$#% stupid bags for 90 minutes. Ah well, at least the kids had fun (I hope).

I know how irritating it can be, but REALLY, Marc--you mustn't insist on calling the little old church ladies "*$#% stupid bags." At least not to their faces.

I saw Auburn is creeping up the rankings, though it would take a Bear Bryant-sized miracle for them to crack the top 8 and get into the BCS.

Not gonna happen, what with only two games left in the season. And Bama is probably pretty desperate for Tommy Tuberville not to start on another hand's worth of fingers. One prediction? Should Alabama win the Iron Bowl, I guarantee you someone will have tee-shirts on sale five minutes afterward with a cartoon Big Al holding up his middle finger (toe? What do elephants have?) and saying "I got your finger right here, Auburn!"

It's called "class," you know.

Anyway, Auburn won't get any sort of BCS recognition this year.

I watched some of the LSU-Alabama game and noticed some lovely ladies wearing houndstooth hats with yellow/purple coloring. It was pretty funny, unless you're a Crimson Tide fan.

The LSUsers do seem to take his departure from Miami awfully hard. It would probably not be quite so bad except they wound up with Les "I am Certifiably Insane" Miles. I congratulate them for winning all these so far, but he's not coaching Notre Dame and shouldn't rely on sheer blind luck to continue to win games for him. Fourth and half a foot and some of the toughest linemen and backs around, and you CALL A TRICK PLAY!? Moron.

And I know moron...

Well, at least Darth Saban had his somber face on after the game. Hmmm, maybe you can whip up some Cornabogs (batter-dipped and fried Bulldog on a stick) for the weekend?

AND there's another coach who's not screwed together right. That stupid display against Florida was weapons-grade, Howard Dean, outhouse rat crazy. Anyway, should be a pretty good game...

Bountiful blessings,
Marc

Thanks!

Wow. Makes me wish I still blogged.

What a woman.

And what a son.

Our prayers go up for you and the rest of your family, Fritz.

Shhhh--

Maybe some pictures later, but don't say anything about it.

GRRRRRRRRR!

I was gone for exactly ONE FRIGGIN' HOUR, and I got back and they already had someone moving her stuff in my office! I SIGNED OUT TO LUNCH, YA FREAKS! Just because I've cleaned the office out does NOT MEAN I DON'T STILL HAVE JUNK TO GET DONE!

I mean besides this.

I actually still have work work to do.

Anyway, I was all set to come back and get that out of the way and do some other junk and do this final post, and the whole mood is just RUINED.

SO, I suppose I should finish up my work and get the heck out of here.

See you all after while.

It echoes in here.

Well, all the books and files and drawings and toys and photos and everything else has been moved downstairs to the new office. The desk has only a fine layer of dust on it, and the walls are bare, and I've gotten the old crappy phone out of the file cabinet to hook up when I leave.

It's very weird in here. Every little noise echoes like a gunshot, and even though my stuff is just downstairs, I miss it. Especially that wall full of kid artwork. There is a great melancholy associated with that empty expanse of corkboard, almost as if the kids themselves have been taken away. I don't like that feeling, so I'll be glad when Monday comes and clutter up the new place with all sorts of cheerful fish and flowers and houses.

Now then, I'm gonna go take Miss Reba to lunch, and then come back and maybe even write one more post.

A Blast From the Past!

Our old friend LittleA (not his real name), late of the less-that-regularly-updated blog A Little Aardvark Never Hurt Anyone, sent along a personal missive to me yesterday afternoon, but I thought all of you would like to see it and have a chance to give him a shout-out since it's been a while since he's unburrowed.

SO, without further delay:

I tried to post this in your comments And it kept getting rejected for "Questionable content". Well, duh. I did write it, after all...

I sense a disturbance in the farce and what do I find? A possum who's hanging up his spurs (ok, that visual is just a little too bizarre, even for me) and that I have enough lasting notoriety to be used as a bad pun (LittleA train? priceless!).

Congratulations on the new gig. May you find it fulfilling and fun, and not necessarily in that order.

Since you've been accused of pulling an ALANHA, I'll give you some free advice (worth every penny, guaranteed!) - don't overpromise what you'll be able to deliver here (not that I think you have). It took me a while to get over feeling guilty for not being able to keep up a regular pace (or any at all in the end). And most, nay, ALL of that guilt was self-induced. [/end sermon]

I've been all up and down these inter-tubes and I can say with conviction that Possomblog has managed to gather the nuttiest, kindest, warped(est), funniest group of regulars that have ever been seen. (but never in the same place at the same time...hmmmm...very suspicious) And it all starts with the Big Daddy Possum being such a nutty, kind, warped, funny guy.

Sir, I salute you!

Thanks for playing Possum.

The job is going very well. I'm working on course 3 (of 8) on my certification - only 18 more months to go. ::sigh:: The EAC has been sick all week, but hopefully today's third trip to the doctor will get her back on the right track. She moves back in to the dorm on Saturday - only 21 more months to go. The YAC is doing well - she still hasn't learned to drive, which suits me just fine. Mrs. A's mom had hip replacement surgery on Monday, so between the EAC's illness and that she's been pretty wrapped up. She (Mrs. A) will have foot surgery again in October, hopefully this time will fix what's wrong and she'll get some relief from the constant pain (no, not ME, silly).

About the only other thing of interest is that when the YAC stopped taking piano lessons, I started. I'm going for my 7th lesson right after work - same teacher that taught the kids. Poor woman - I don't think she knew what she was agreeing to.

Anyway, that's the news from Aardvarkia.

LittleA gets a little extra in his pay packet this week for the flattery, understanding as he does that I live for constant positive reinforcement.

BE THAT AS IT MAY, it is awfully nice to hear from him and to hear how it goes with all the rest of the Aardvark family. Good folks.

NOW, I have some moving to do.

Thing I will miss.

Miss Sarah and her ability to make me look so very pretty.

Warning: Depending on where you work, the following could be highly inappropriate...

And speaking of anniversaries...

Happy Wedding and Blogging Anniversaries to Jimbo Smith!

Hockey?

In August?

Well, sure!

Best wishes to the birthd'y boy.

Okay, now that the surprise has worn off...

...some catching up to do.

FIRST: Many thanks to all of you for your recent prayers and good wishes for Miss Reba. She had her re-do mammogram on Monday, and the knot level in my stomach ratcheted up to 11 when they told her that there was definitely something there. Sweet relief Tuesday evening when she told me they'd called her back during work to report it was a benign inflammation that will not require any treatment. Obviously, I thought it would be good to get a second opinion and follow-up examination, but she was resistant to the idea, even though I offered to do it for free.

SECOND: Mailout Thursday today, which is why this is a bit late getting going. This will hopefully be my last Mailout Thursday. Downstairs where I'm going, they have one secretary for three (soon to be four) people. Up here, we have one secretary for 23 people. Thus why I seem to always be doing so much typing, folding, spindling, and mutilating. However, I do know how to fix any of the printers or copiers on the floor. (Hint: It's called "RTFM.")

THIRD: Clean up. Lileks wrote about his recent office move, and bragged about having reduced down his personal accumulation of things to something that could fit in a shoebox. Me? I've got twelve years worth of detritus piled up around me. Mugs, toys, books, my "Department of Redundancy Department" sign on the wall. All my kids' artwork on the other wall, all my photos on the other part of the other wall, all the junk in my desk drawers, all the junk on my desk, all the junk on my drafting table, all the junk stashed in file cabinets, all the junk on the window sills, and THEN all the forgotten paperwork that has been layered and compacted into rock-like strata on various horizontal surfaces since 1995. It will be a combination of archaeology dig and canal excavation to get it all cleaned out. When I decide to actually make the effort to get after it.

FOURTH: It's like moving to a new house. I've got to see if I can keep my phone number, I've got to get new business cards, I've got to see what from my old place can be moved to the new, and I've got to dump all those pictures of Maureen O'Hara and Raquel Welch and Sophia Loren off the hard drive on this computer. (Actually, I've already copied everything and transferred it to my home computer, but I still haven't deleted anything, because I'm a pack rat, and that includes computer files.) And obviously, I'm going to have to physically move this stuff.

FIFTH: (Reserved)

SIXTH: The Axis of Weevil, although appearing to be an anarcho-syndicalist commune, in which we each take in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week; but all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs, but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more major affairs, is, in fact, not. It is purely dictatorial, and shall continue on apace, striving to achieve world hegemony through fear, and surprise, and ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to Sheriff Taylor. There's no use being part of an Axis if the whole thing quits working just because the dictator guy decides to go prancing off to do something else instead of blogging. Look, there are supposed to be benefits to being a dictator, and one of them is getting to dictate. SO, even if I'm NOT blogging, I'm still going to be pacing my luxuriously furnished office in the Axis of Weevil World Headquarters Building, maybe even absent-mindedly stroking my bronze bust of Twain (Shania), and if I don't blog, that doesn't mean the REST of you get to slag about! GET OUT THERE AND DO SOME WORLD DOMINATIN', or there WON'T BE A COMPANY PICNIC! Also, everyone please remember to turn in your timesheets tomorrow, because Anita is going on vacation next week and needs to get payroll finished before she goes.

SEVENTH: Chet the E-Mail Boy. He's fine, everyone. Please quit asking about him. As I said, the AoW continues on, and so he's not going to be fired or anything else, at least not until I get him to finish washing out the dumpster and filling in that hole in the parking lot. And anyway, it's not like he's getting paid, so being fired isn't that big of a deal. And best I can tell, he's something like 109 or 110 years old, so he can't be around much longer anyway.

EIGHTH: If you make "sixth" out of six plus th, and "seventh" out of seven plus th, why don't you spell 8th as "eightth"? It is a mystery.

NINTH: Don't get me started on this one--obviously it should be nineth. ANYWAY, advice for anyone who wants to start a blog. Dedicate yourself to using proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation. You'll obviously mess up every once in a while, but be quick to correct it and thank people profusely for pointing it out. Don't be a putz. Don't argue for the sake of hearing yourself talk (or reading yourself write). Treat everyone as kindly as possible, even trolls and idiots. In their case, treating them kindly means not having any discussion at all with them before deleting their stupidity and banning them and acting as though they never existed. Write about what you know. Write about what you don't know, but tell everyone up front you're an idiot and you don't know what you're writing about. (People can tell when you're faking it.) Write stuff you enjoy reading. If you're an idiot or a troll, this may mean no one else likes it, but you just will have to realize that's because you are unlikable as a person. But you can change if you want to. But don't expect people to change to suit you. Don't mock the dead (unless it's a really, REALLY bad person, and no, lefty-retards, I'm not talking about people who don't think exactly like you). Don't use a blog layout with text and background that is dark on dark or light on light or in colors that clash. No one can see it, and if you can't see it, it doesn't exist. (GOOGLE IT!) Never rely on Google. Learn about logic, and learn the various fallacies of argumentation. Learning to successfully repudiate a fallacious argument in a calm, rational manner goes a long way toward promoting peace and understanding, as does learning how to employ fallacious arguments against dimwits. Do not taunt the insane. Try to be smart, but realize your limitations. Humor only works if something is humorous, and believe it or not, some things just aren't funny. So don't force it. Never blog in your underwear, because you never know when your boss might walk in and tell you you're supposed to be in an important meeting across town in five minutes. Be nice and thank people who read what you write.

TENTH: Questions? Write about personal stuff for long enough, and eventually questions do come up that demand answers. Got one? I'll try to answer it, or at least deflect it genially and act like I didn't hear it.

Well, now. There's you a surprise.

I'll be closing up shop.

See?

It is a surprise! Although in fairness, not to me.

Several months ago, a position opened up within my department and I applied for it, and have been in limbo ever since, not knowing if they'd hire me or make me stay where I am. I realized when I applied that if I did get it, there would never be any way I could continue sitting around and writing in between work assignments, because the work assignments in this new gig are constant.

Anyway, I finally got the confirmation call this morning, and so in a couple of weeks (or so, things move slowly around here, in case you've never noticed), I'll be going downstairs to the 4th floor. One floor might not seem very far, but compared to what it's been like, it's way yonder far off.

The new job is directly related to my training--basically, I'll be practicing architecture again. The past twelve years (TWELVE!?), I've been doing a sideline-sorta-related function of urban designer. It was fun at first (after leaving the hell of The Bad Place), but for whatever reason, our little corner of the org chart was continually marginalized and there got to be a lot less fun designy-type work with pencils and crayons and junk, and a whole lot more of mindless bureaucratic paper-shuffling. And no chance to advance to senior paper-shuffler. When you're marginalized, folks in charge don't really care about such things.

So, you know, laboring on in obscurity, waiting for citizen complaints or various interdepartmental wild goose chases, filling out forms, and typing lots of passive-voiced meeting minutes, all without much in the way of pay raises or hope, tends to give you some free time. And a lot of things you wish you could talk about if you could find someone who wasn't even more insane than you are.

Thus entered the exciting blogging pastime.

Which is about the only way I think I've been able to continue doing this job for so long. Some people around here just close their door and read books, some simply ride the elevator all day, some feign consciousness, a few never even show up. At least this way, I've been able to make a bunch of new friends, blissfully blather on in a separate virtual-type world, and still actually do the various plebian activities that now constitute this position. Thankfully, even with blogging, no citizen ever had his need go unmet and no assignment was ever dropped. I'm not sure how well that reflects on me, or how badly it does on the position. Eh. Whatever.

ANYway, the new position requires attention. It's real life, health/safety/welfare architect things that are actually what I'm trained and registered to do, and since there's only three staffers, and I've got to learn how they do things, it's going to be busy. And busy means no time to play. And no time to play means, obviously, no time for Possumblog.

It has been an extraordinarily enjoyable thing, what I do here. Writing things down has helped me make some sense of events, and has allowed me to meet some of the most intriguing, enjoyable, erudite, silly, warm, brave, maddening, thoughtful, clever, intelligent, helpful, astonishing, wry, fragile, honest, and finest people in the world. As I've always said, I've imagined this blog as nothing more than the sort of random conversation you have when friends drop by and sit a spell over in the chair by the door. So, thanks to all of you who've stopped by to sit in that chair.

As for this enterprise itself, I never saw it as a way to get attention, or at least not the attention of the sort we've come to associate with fame (i.e., fleeting attention from the news media), but if there was any attention I did want, it was that anyone who came by would leave with something enjoyable or informative, and would be able to say to himself that even a gun-toting, Bible-thumping, openly-straight, Alabama redneck could still do pretty well for himself explaining his views, and further, do so in a way that was serious but not self-important. I've tried to save my vitriol and derision for the people who deserve it, that being, those who don't think they deserve it. I've never sought out other bloggers to disagree and argue with, mainly because it serves no purpose other than to give me a headache, and because it's quite difficult to find someone with whom I disagree who also seems to value logic and good humor.

I've written a lot over the past few years, and much about myself. Probably too much. In some cases, not enough. There are still some opinions I have that are too inflammatory to ever utter except during those nagging internal monologues, and some of them I realize are wrong and it would be wrong to say them. Some are just so convoluted I don't want to have to explain them. So, despite what you might think if you read everything in the archives, there's still some corners of thought that I haven't felt good about sharing. Especially in this highly non-anonymous format.

But, what I've said, I've said.

I hope it's been worth hearing.

In the coming few days, I've got some necessary job-related things to get squared away--packing, moving, paperwork--but I will still be around and keeping up with things, and I suppose I'll have one final post for shout-outs and to thank everyone one more time for making this one of their semi-regular Internet stops.

In the mean time, between now and the time I finally turn out the lights, if you've still got some nagging questions you've never gotten an answer to, or a tirade to launch forth on, feel free to drop me a comment or an e-mail.

You've been a great audience, everyone! Be careful driving home!

Mr. Murdoch, FYI--

Murdoch to buy Dow Jones for $5 billion

Just a reminder to you and your board of directors that Possumblog has been a proud, independent, valuable voice in the online world for many years, but you know, I would be willing to talk.

I am shocked!

Of course, the use of the word "shocked" might drive it all the way over into R territory!

"This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words: knife (7x), kill (2x), shoot (1x)"

Of course, I could also be messing myself up by repeating those exact same words...

Oh well.

Via the ever-wholesome Mrs. Adams (who gets away with talking repeatedly about her nur-nur facilities with impugnity!)

Reporting for Duty!

Desk duty, that is. It's my time in the rotation, and it just so happens that today the secretary will be out pretty much the entire day. Which means no inane chatter and silly blithering for YOU today. Or at least not a whole lot.

STORYTIME COMPLETED!!

It being so slow today, let's do something that I used to do with my kids--make up a story as we go along!

We'll do it like this: I'll start off with some introductory stuff, and then pause. The first person who comments gets to pick the word or phrase to go in the spot, and then we continue on like that with various stops and starts until we've told a story and you're good and tired and ready to go to sleep!

AND NOW, YOUR BEDTIME STORY.

Once upon a time (as all good stories begin), there was a very large Kangaroo, hopping merrily along his way. As he hopped, he carried with him a very large pair of cymbals. He hopped and banged and crashed and hopped and clanged, making a most fearsome noise!

He had just rounded the corner onto Main Street when he saw--or more accurately--heard the thundering, thumping, window-rattling thud of a bass cannon-equipped hoopty, even though it was allllllll the way down at the other end of Main Street.

It got closer, and closer, and closer, and then pulled up and stopped right in front of the kangaroo! Inside the car were twelve drummers drumming, and they continued to drum away in time with the music booming from the car! SUCH A RACKET THEY MADE!

They drummers saw the kangaroo, and one of them leaned out the window and said to the kangaroo, "What's YOUR name?" The kangaroo looked at them with a very puzzled look, and said "What'd you say?! I can't hear you!"

It was a very odd scene, what with a cymbal-carrying kangaroo conversing with a caboodle of cacophonic kids!

The drummer who asked the kangaroo his name couldn't hear the kangaroo say that he couldn't hear what the drummer said, and so he turned down the radio (since he knew no one else would be able to hear him if he told someone else to do it) and then started swatting everyone to make them quit their drum-banging so he could hear the kangaroo.

"Hi, Kangaroo," the drummer said, "what is your name?" The kangaroo, even though his long ears were still ringing, heard the question. He sat back on his long rubbery haunches, rubbed his furry little chin and said "My name is Lonnie!"

Well, not really, but that's what he tells strangers.

His parents named him "Hoppy" and he just hates it.

But with this load of suspicious noisy drummers, Hoppy, or Lonnie, figured he'd never seen anything quite so strange, and figured now was as good a time as any to use a name he liked. So Lonnie it was.

"Hi, there, Lonnie! Look, Lonnie, we're lost and were wondering if you could tell us how to get to San Jose? That's where they're having the nearest drum and bugle corps contest, you know."

Hoppy wasn't so sure about this--not only were there no towns called San Jose anywhere near, the drummers didn't have a single bugler in the car. Something about the situation made Hoppy's little black nose twitch (which he hated more than being called Hoppy).

It was right then and there that Hoppy decided to [Something good, I hope!]...

WE INTERRUPT THIS BEDTIME STORY FOR SOME ACTUAL NEWS: Giant badgers terrorise Iraqi port city

Friends, that's no badger--IT'S CHUPACABRA!! Or Manbearpig. Or Batboy.

Jim Smith sent me that, because he knows I'm a sucker for stories about giant flesh-eating, monkey-faced badgers.

Anyway, now back to the EXCITING! ENDING! OF! your bedtime story!

It was right then and there that Hoppy decided to take off the kangaroo suit, stop hopping around like a moron and get on with life as Mr Robert H. R. Johansson of 15 Elder Parade, Essendon; a plumbing supplies merchant and aspiring political candidate!

THE END

WOW! Didn't see that one coming!

Thanks to all who participated in the Storytime for yesterday/today and I hope it helps you as you sail off to Slumberland. Or someplace similar.

Oh, THAT again.

Yep--once more I have to venture forth and have my regular off-campus meeting tomorrow, so you'll all have to wait for a while for your usual ration of stupidity. Unless you want to browse through the archives, which are chock full of it.

Shoutout Tuesday!

Hello to all of our recent visitors from:

Birmingham, Alabama
Saint Louis, Missouri
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Weehawken, New Jersey
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Dallas, Texas
Kelseyville, California
Toronto, Ontario
Cleveland, Ohio
Pensacola, Florida
Murrysville, Pennsylvania
Findlay, Ohio
La Mancha, Canarias, Spain
Sioux City, Iowa
Dalton, Georgia
Richmond, Virginia
Nijmegen, Gelderland, Netherlands
Coldwater, Michigan
Meriden, Kansas
San Antonio, Texas
Plano, Texas
Cairo, Georgia
Clearfield, Utah
Sugar Loaf, New York
Mobile, Alabama
Billings, Montana
Houston, Texas
Springfield, Illinois
Vincent, Alabama
Irving, Texas
Dimondale, Michigan
Bend, Oregon
Emeryville, California
Chicago, Illinois
Greenville, North Carolina
London, Lambeth, UK
Memphis, Tennessee
Arroyo Grande, California
Montreal, Quebec
Watson, Alabama
Murrysville, Pennsylvania
Greenville, North Carolina
Miami, Florida
Elmhurst, Illinois
Montgomery, Alabama
Mountain View, California
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Pensacola, Florida

(2:00 in the afternoon isn't really the best time to catch all those international visitors, but rest assured you're being said 'hey' to, also!)

It never fails to unnerve me...

...when people get here by searching on my name.

Thank heavens this is all nothing more than a clever ruse, being that I'm actually someone else, and you don't really know who I am.

My goodness, it HAS been quite a while!

But we cheer the triumphal return of none other than our ol' abyss-staring buddy, Charles Austin, who pleasures us with Throat Warbling Mangrove, amongst many other shiny things!

Hurrah!

And as for next week...

NO POSSUM FOR YOU!

Yep, it's that time of year again when I don't come to work for an indeterminate amount of days and spend that time instead in the bosom of my family, spending money I don't have on things I don't need, otherwise known as vacation.

As usual, this means I will be locked in the house with a shotgun, so don't think that when I say "vacation," I'm actually going to be away from stately Casa de Possum, and that you can come over and commit acts of burglary and mayhem. Because you'll get a faceful of lead, bucko, and in addition to that, be attacked by rabid bobcats! And fleas! And fire from Heaven! And boils on your buttocks!

So don't try it.

ANYWAY, what this does mean is that you'll have to go elsewhere for your fun and gaminess. Also, I won't be checking my e-mail or otherwise messing with the computer, so if the place gets trashed by spammers, please accept my regrets and the promise that I'll do the policing when I get bac--I mean--when I decide it's time to, which will probably be after I'm through feeding the giant vampire tarantulas to the rabid bobcats, which will then be thrown to the hungry mutant Pelosisharkodile that prowls the house looking for intruders. And, obviously, for rabid bobcats.

All of you have an excellent week, be good to your fellow man, and keep us in your prayers as we keep you in ours.

Until 2 July, then, good afternoon.

Now then.

Tomorrow will be devoted to playtime, as long as I'm able to keep the work-related things in check. Be sure to put on some sturdy playclothes and closed-toe shoes, and don't wear any jewelry or anything else that can get snagged or lost.

Fritz answers that time-honored question:

"Is that a 5 inch plush dog in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Early meeting tomorrow, so...

...be prepared to go out and forage for whatever you can find in the blogroll!

Dangitall.

I've really got to do a better job of remembering the proper pop culture references.

Yet more opportunities for finding alternative entertainment!

I've got an early meeting tomorrow morning, so the constant supply of weak humor and vapid commentary to which you've become accustomed will have to be satisfied elsewhere for an hour or two.

And saving the best for last...

Happy Fifteenth Anniversary to Larry and Sarah!

Congratulations on the last fifteen, and best wishes for many, many more.

AOL Giveth what Google Taketh Away

An unexpected uptick today from a highly unlikely source--America Online.

I'm not sure, but I have a feeling they look and see what their members are spending a lot of time reading, and one particular user in Trussville spent nearly an hour and a half this morning reading some stupid blog called Possumblog, so they had their squadron of robots come over and see what was being said, and noticed that I'd linked to that AP story about NJ Gov Corzine's public service announcement for seatbelts, and so AOL's own news aggregator gave your humble host a spot of prominence with their box that says, "Bloggers Talking About This Subject."

Thus explaining the sudden onslaught of new commentors today!

Hello, new visitors! PLEASE QUIT SHOUTING! And please, do come back often!

More if you use commas and periods.

Comment of the Day!

From my new best friend Carol, who asks the following in this post:

"So, are the nice Thyssen Krupp people going to be melting steel with fire? Because that can't be done, so I'm thinking this is an awful lot of time and money to spend on something that can't possibly work."

Touché, madam!

I really have no choice.

I'm like the little town on the side of some highway that got bypassed by the Interstate. Before it opened (or before Google decided Possumblog was unworthy), I could count on a pretty steady stream of traffic wandering by--sure, they were all hopelessly lost--but even if they happened on Possumblog by accident, at least there was something here they could use to help them along in their daily routines. Stupid made-up facts, weak jokes, manatee recipes, pointing and laughing at Democrats, daily feedings at the reptile farm AND rattlesnake venom milking--it's all still here, but since they opened up that next section of expressway, it's like a ghost town now.

Since it seems I now have completely lost any chance of being able to rely upon the once substantial amount of happenstancical traffic that used to stop in, it's obvious that I only have one option left if Possumblog is to survive.

Thus, I would like to announce that I am releasing my very own rap album!

Well, if it's not one thing it's another.

First Google decides to actively ignore Possumblog, driving away huge amounts of accidental Possumblog visitors, and then yesterday afternoon, something must have happened at mu.nu, creating connection timeout and 'host not available' problems for what seemed like hours, further depressing the amount of people who are able to come and enjoy the rich, hearty flavor of possum.

Maybe it's a sign.

It's...

...The Fever and Vomiting Showcase!!

Best wishes for a speedy recovery for the lovely Mrs. Adams.

I feel so dirty.

The sudden drop recently in Google-driven searches has once more shown me that Possumblog must be BOLD! HIP! EDGY! to survive.

Yet, somehow, even though faced with the prospect of having absolutely no blogtraffic, I still cannot in good conscience post drunken naughty nude naked topless photos and YouTube videos of Paris Hilton spanking Lindsay Lohan during Cinco de Mayo with Spiderman 3 trailers playing in the background during a commercial for American Idol, when there are so many free sudoku puzzles available, even for the PSP, Playstation 3, or Nintendo Wii.

So, I suppose if I'm must not ready to go down that road, I'll just have to continue to rely upon the same insightful, thoughtful commentary you've all come to expect since Possumblog first emerged.

Which means I probably should start picking out some nice blogfuneral music.

I've always been partial to bagpipes and banjos...

Sometimes even paranoid people are right.

Curiouser and curiouser.

I mentioned yesterday about the sudden downturn in visitors coming in from Google, wondering if maybe Google had redone their search protocols to highlight or otherwise favor Blogger/Blogspot blogs (that they now control), and just now got the following comment from Mike Hollihan:

I had noticed the reverse on my blog, at about the same time. I've been away from mine, posting maybe once every three weeks or so for a while, and traffic had drifted down to nearly nothing. Suddenly, I had a ton of referrals from Google and Google image searches showing up and daily traffic doubled. Not sure what's going on.

Well, now that's mighty peculiar. I also went back and checked and of all the results I have managed to get from Google lately, the overwhelming majority came as people were clicking through from my old Possumblog site on Blogspot that hasn't been active in almost two years.

You know, one of the things that made Google popular in the first place was the sense that it was more reliable at returning a broad variety of pertinent search results with little bias toward one viewpoint or another. It seems counterproductive to that image to start goofing around with things in favor of sites bearing your own brand.

And once they start doing that, what's to keep them from pushing aside politically unpopular Blogspot bloggers in favor of the more lefty/lib/progressive sorts who seem to be more of the mindset of the Google corporate office?

Well, not much.

Have any of the rest of you noticed a sudden upturn or downturn since mid-April in visitors referred by Google?

Hmm. Wonder what the deal is?

Since I don't get paid or make any money off this site, it doesn't matter how many visitors I get, but I still keep an eye on it to see what might interest folks who drop by. I noticed a few weeks ago (starting around the week of April 15), my weekend traffic had dropped off nearly to zero. I had been having 2-300 visits even on Sundays--nobody really looking for Possumblog, per se, just accidentals--but still it was nice to see people found some use for this pile of mess even when I wasn't writing anything.

But this sudden drop-off was weird, and it seems to have had an effect on the overall numbers during the week, as well. After clicking on a couple of search terms, I also noticed that if someone had come through via Google earlier, Possumblog was not on the returned results when I checked later, as if it were being scrolled off or removed. Some search strings even turned up as having no results at all, even though someone had apparently gotten through earlier using that same set of search terms.

I wonder if Google has once more adjusted their search algorithms to give less credit to non-Blogger/Blogspot blogs? I suppose we'll never know for sure, but it's still odd that visits would fall off so quickly like that.

Several Days Late...

...but the sentiment is the same, that being Happy 5th Bloggiversary to Marc Velazquez, who usually blogs at Spudlets.com (which is down at the moment, so you can use his backup site). Marc has been a great friend over the past few years and I regret not having wished him a well on his ongoing blogginess a bit earlier.

Unfortunate bit of business.

Still, I feel compelled to act.

I was just now standing here in my palatial office at the Axis of Weevil World Headquarters Building, absentmindedly stroking the bronze bust of Kennedy (Jayne) that sits upon my credenza, and I noticed that traffic on Possumblog is noticeably slack today. Few people commenting or e-mailing or just stopping by to visit, which is such a letdown after the big Instalanche and companion Acidmanlanche of the past days.

It puts me in a foul mood, I must say.

I have summoned Chet the E-Mail Boy into my office, and he is now standing beside me, trembling.

Why?

Because unless we start getting some more visitors around here, and fast, I intend to clout him upon his hoary pate with the walking stick I have in my hand, encrusted with genuine Diamelles, that I purchased from the Home Shopping Network.

So unless you want to see a poor old man thwacked because of your lack of clickage, you'd all better get to it and start making the meter spin.

Now then, I'm going to go sit in the outer office and answer the phone, since the secretary is gone today.

And I'm going to strike Chet one just for spite.

I do know one thing you could do...

...skip on over to Skinnydan's place and wish him well for his upcoming ear surgery.

Here's hoping it's much less involved than getting his blog template fixed.

Oops.

Forgot to mention I was going to be out this morning bothering defenseless citizens instead of writing tepid, yet dull, essays on a variety of uninteresting topics.

AND NOW THAT I'M BACK--there is much to do, doggone it all, so you'll have to content yourself with the rich bounty offered by both the uppermost and the rightmost-side-of-your-screen blogrolls for your ration of entertaining prose.

I will be back with you shortly.

Or not.

Random thought from the weekend.

The drive up I-59 to Gadsden is really beautiful in the early evening--the trees were all nice and healthy, and the traffic wasn't bad at all, and the sky was blue, and Sand Mountain was at its finest with the deep shadows in strong contrast to the sun dappling the tops of the trees. Pretty part of the world, that.

Smart feller, smart feller, I smell a...

HEY! Congratulations to Nate McCord, who has finished up his edumicating with Something from Estee Lauder. Or something like that.

My silliness aside, this is a great and well-deserved honor for someone who has worked hard and managed to produce superior work AND hold down a full-time highly-technical job AND still do all those manly husbandly fatherly things, too.

Good job, Nate.

Of tiles, tarts, and bras.

Many (although belated) happy returns to Miss Jordana on being nearly as old as a couple of shirts I have!

"You are probably unaware..."

Oh, where to start.

As you ARE all probably aware, there's been some yammering about the anonymity-fueled incivility of the Innernet, and various calls for bloggers to have some kind of standards and junk like that. My suggestion last week wasn't that we needed a Blogger Code of Ethics but a Blogger Aptitude Test. (Of course, if we required a level of intelligence above that of a flatworm, we'd probably wipe out 90% of Web content.)

Anyway, from what I've seen, the problem with blogs and their commentors isn't anonymity, but just plain ol' ignorance of basic facts, and a profound disinterest in tact.

As demonstrated by the title of this post.

I noticed last night when I was checking my mail that someone had left a comment on an old post from August of last year.

A couple of things right off--please feel free to comment on whatever you want around here, but understand that a lot of the content relies on being kinda topical and timely. When you comment on something that's been on here for nearly a year, it might show that you've not been keeping up, or second (and more likely), that you probably just stumbled through here when you were Googling for something else, and decided to impress everyone with your incredible ginormous brain.

This would be great if you had a ginormous brain.

Next, even though I have a low opinion of the level of smarts exhibited by folks online, I do have enough civility not to wander around the Internet dropping in and making statements to strangers questioning their knowledge of various subjects. So I would like to ask that if you want to comment here, don't assume too much about what you or I know. Which means, don't start off your comment directed at a randomly-found-blog-total-stranger with the words, "You are probably unaware..."

Look, I'm many things, and possibly being unaware is one of them. Probably is not a good bet, though. I make it a point to not post stuff unless I'm pretty clear on the topic. Saves grief down the road.

Next, read the post, and the following comments if there are any. BE CERTAIN of what is being said. Reading comprehension is very important, and if you go off on a tangent based entirely on missing the point of a post, it makes you look like a cretin. Or more like one.

Another thing--if you're going to come to my place and assume I don't know what I'm talking about, you danged sure better have your facts straight, and by facts I mean facts--verifiable information from reliable sources, and not superstitions, Netlore, urban legends, or something you just yanked out of the back of your shorts. Because here's the deal--when you say someone else might not know something, and then you come up with some wildly idiotic outlandish claim, that claim can be checked and shown to be false and in doing so make you look like a bigger mouth-breather than you might actually be. (Although not likely.) Trying to talk big doesn't help your case, either.

Anyway, the very thing that allows you to go wandering around dispensing your pearls of wisdom to perfect strangers also is the magical machine that connects a lot of information together, and even if I might miss something, I know where to find it pretty quickly.

Having said all this, let me say that the reason this comment stuck out was that it was so out of keeping with the usual comments around here. I added comments a pretty long while back, and was quite antsy about it then, hoping that they wouldn't become a distraction or a haven for misbehaving trolls and idjits. I am very happy to say that this hasn't been the case, and I think makes Possumblog a great deal more fun to read. The only thing I wish is that a few of you who lurk would say something.

As long as you're not trying to tell me what a great performance value your header-equipped '75 Chevy Monza was when compared to a Ferrari.

Some people...

...marvel (and quite unnecessarily, in my mind) at the constant frenetic state in which I seem to find myself.

Ladies and gentlemen (and Possumblog readers), I have an admission to make.

I am but a lowly piker when compared to some people.

Shameless begging!?

Surely the boys at the BBQ Emporium know that begging is worthless without throwing in the promise of a pound of barbecue, inside, chopped, with a pint of sauce. I am immune to begging, but I do have my price.

Being merciful and all that, though, I AM willing to throw 'em a link with the understanding that the meat will be sent as expeditiously as possible.

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

For those who have read Possumblog for a while, you no doubt have come across various comments and disturbances caused by one LittleA, weblog author and notorious punster. However, as you see from his blog, it's been a while since we've had an update from the Clan of the Aardvark, and frankly, I'd begun to worry about them. What if they'd run out of crunchy, piquant ants and termites!? What if they were roughed up by a roving gang of pangolins!?

Taking matters into my own hands, I bypassed Chet the E-Mail Boy entirely and personally sent a message to LittleA to enquire about him and his family. On February 22.

On MARCH 19, I finally got a reply! So, for all of you who've been wondering how things have been going, here is his reply, slightly edited to preserve everyone's anonymity--

Hey Terry!

Life is increasingly frenetic at the [Aardvark] house. [Mrs. A.] is still dealing with her foot and there is a likelihood that the pain she is experiencing may never go away. The [EAC] is finishing her sophomore year at college and still has the long distance [redacted]. We had to sit down with her in February and have a little "come to Jesus" meeting about school and finances and the expectation that she needed to step up her work efforts if she was ever going to get a car and live on her own after college - working 30 hours a week at a $6.50 an hour job in the mall wasn't going to continue to cut it. On a positive note, she seemed to respond well to that and has, indeed, stepped up her efforts to earn an extra buck every chance she gets - even working at said $6.50 an hour job over spring break. The [YAC] is working on getting her permit and, being a drama queen in general, always seems to have a problem with something. It's only a phase (lather, rinse, repeat).

I am working (or at least showing up) about 50 - 60 hours per week and taking a series of professional certification tests (only 7 more to go - as in 18 months) and still teaching Sunday School and singing in choir and playing handbells and... For an underachiever, I certainly seem to be overstimulated. Of course, to make things really interesting, I have learned to procrastinate everything until the very last minute so that I can maximize my stress. The big elm tree in the back yard needs to come down before it falls down (on my storage house, the metal shed, the neighbor's house, the power lines, my house, or all of the above) so I'm getting quotes for that. The house needs foundation work (everything is shifty in Texas), needs rewired, needs replumbed, needs reinsulated, needs... ::sigh:: The fact that I have zero ability to work with my hands doesn't help.

Anyway, even with all that, life is pretty good. I have a wife and family that love me, manage to eat regularly, enjoy working a Sudoku puzzle or two now and then, not to mention I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.

I'm afraid, though, that I've finally given up on ALANHA. My new job just doesn't give me any time and I the rest of time I'm either too busy or too exhausted to worry about it. I still drop by from time to time, but haven't really been able to keep up too well. Thanks for checking up on me, though. I do appreciate it.

Say 'hey' to Goober for me. Oh, wait. I mean, say 'hey' to everyone for me.

[LittleA]

Good to hear they're all still eating, but I know I speak for many folks when I say it sounds like someone needs to slow down a touch!

Best wishes to you all, and do keep in touch when you can. And don't be afraid to tell your employer to lighten up so you can get some blogging done!

Now then--what about that Yorkie person?

By the way...

...I am still bleary from the weekend and the continuing lack of sleep I have been getting, thus explaining the inexplicable usage of "through" in lieu of "threw" in the previous post.

As well as "kilopascals" for "screaming night terrors." Although I can't quite remember where I used that one.

New! BOLD! EDGY!!

It's time to reveal the results of our first week's polling! This has been an incredibly popular addition to Possumblog, with almost three people participating!

Remember, these are highly scientific polls conducted using actual computers, so you know they're accurate and reliable.

ON to the results (in each case, the percentage is followed by the number of votes):

Who is your favorite Possumblog Industries employee?

Kit the Wonder Cat 11% 2
Jimmy, from next door 6% 1
Chet the E-Mail Boy 28% 5
Big Luther 11% 2
Miss Butch 0% 0
Miss Wanda 0% 0
Pat Slagging 0% 0
Ernesto, in Billing 6% 1
Jimmy Neil 0% 0
Clew 0% 0
Norah O'Donnell 39% 7
Ibrahim Malwad 0% 0

Of course Norah is your favorite! Do you actually think I would allow anyone else to win!? And by the way, quit trying to give Chet an ego boost. He's already asking for name-brand corn flakes.

What scares you most?

Spiders 6% 1
Snakes 6% 1
Heights 19% 3
Nancy Pelosi 69% 11
Mind control rays 0% 0
Feet 0% 0

Again--this is an incontrivertible scientific fact--Nancy Pelosi scares nearly 70% of Americans!

What letter does your favorite expletive begin with?

F 8% 1
G 0% 0
S 25% 3
M 17% 2
D 33% 4
L 0% 0
H 0% 0
2 8% 1
X 8% 1

Well, I'll be D--------!

The next one is a bit less tongue in cheek--

Who is the first person you ask advice from about personal problems?

Your spouse 60% 9
Your mom 0% 0
Your dad 0% 0
A close friend 13% 2
A coworker 0% 0
Someone who writes a blog 27% 4

I'm not sure if someone was just messing around, or if it actually means something. I guess if you're a regular blog reader, you actually might know of someone who can give you advice that you can't get from a friend. Odd.

AND THE ONE YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING ON--

Who is your favorite Surrealist?

. 0% 0
Inside 11% 1
Who is your favorite Surrealist? 0% 0
>123.91 11% 1
Susan Anton 78% 7

This one was a shoo-in, too. Everyone loves her bold use of color and incongruencies that rival that of Dali himself.

Thanks for playing along, and be sure to participate in the next round of polls. If there is a next round!

Boy, you folks were a quiet bunch today!

My turn tomorrow! Got my early morning exercise in bureaucratic abusiveness to attend so I'll not be ladling up the fresh warm thin gruel of possumy flavor you've all come to know and detest. At least not ladling it up until sometime after I get back to a computer, that is.

ANYway, see you all sometime laterish.

Grr.

Dumb computers. The Innernets are acting weird here at HQ and I don't like that one bit.

Anyway, it's almost time for lunch, and guess what? It's magazine swap day with My Imaginary Friend, Jeff. I always thought he was real, but when I couldn't get him to leave a comment, I finally realized that he was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Or fig newton.

In any event, will be back after while with thrilling stories of Chinese buffet cuisine and car magazines!

By the way...

it's Mailout Thursday, so I'm deep in the middle of spindling and mutilating, so please bear with me for a while longer, then I will do a giant catch-up post with all the interesting things that I've missed in the past few days.

So, if I'm not on jury duty anymore...

...where have I been all day!?

Finding out once more that taking two days from work multiplies the amount of crap I have to do by a factor of four. So I'm still not caught up. And there's been this whole back-and-forth with a certain Possumblog newcomer who refuses now to say hello to everyone because he's a big scaredy baby. If he's not careful, I might just have to make up something. And I don't want that--I want you all to know he's really real. Just like Chet the E-Mail Boy.

Anyway, that's why there's been nothing much in the way of possumy fun today.

BUSTED!!

Well, it was bound to happen.

Got this cryptic message from My Friend Jeff™ sometime yesterday morning:

To: Oglesby, Terry
Sent:Tue 3/6/2007 8:37 AM
Subject: Hmmm...

Lookie what I found...
http://possumblog.mu.nu/archives/cat_the_media.html

YIKES!!

As I said, it was bound to happen that more of my real world acquaintances would find me. A while back Charlie my reenacting buddy found me, but as far as I can tell, he only checked in once, then there was Tall Blonde Tracy™, who drops by, but only rarely, and there is Andre, whom I see at my biweekly regulatory meetings and he sometimes participates in the Thursday Three, but My Friend Jeff™--now HE'S someone who is an integral part of the storyline here, with multiple posts over the years about our lunch outings and magazine swappings and various frightening goings-on at The Bad Place (our former place of employment) and junk like that.

Not much else to do except 'fess up, and let him know that although HE might know, there are still others out there who don't (i.e., Miss Reba), but that this fact should not be used as a way to blackmail me--there being all sorts of moist secrets in HIS closet that he was foolhardy enough to share with me!

But also, now that he knows, I did tell him I expect him to be a regular contributor to the discussions from now on, so with this post, I ask him to say hello and introduce himself to you all.

And by the way, American Idol contestant Chris Sligh is not my brother.

Sounds like someone else...

...managed to marry up. Best wishes to Skinnydan and the unmentionably active Mrs. Skinny on eight years of connubial bliss!

A Blogiversary!

Happy fifth to some of my favorite folks, Justin and Jordanarama Jordanaroseannadanna, who've been curmudgerating for five years now.

And Jordana's been planting purty flowers all around the blog, too! (I think to cover up boogers someone wiped on the background, but that's only my theory.)

Happy blogday, folks!

There's a disturbance in the Force.

Or something. Mu.nu's acting all warty this morning so I haven't been able to post anything or clear out the usual overnight collection of spam. BUT NOW I CAN!!

The only difficulty now is figuring out what to write. I mean, I could make fun of Al Gore, but that's gotten much too easy since he has that self-parody function in his programming. I could do a Jack Bauer Update! but I just haven't felt compelled to watch this year. I think it's since I know he's going to be back for several more years. I have been watching Heroes instead, but I don't feel the need to do updates on it, since really the only reason I watch is to see Hayden Planetarium in her cheerleader outfit. Well, her, and that little Japanese guy (as long as he doesn't start wearing a cheerleader outfit).

Maybe there'll be something interesting in the news today...

Oh, come on, Larry!

Look at the bright side--only 40 more years to retirement!

(Happy Birthday, by the way.)

Hey, Y'all!

As I do every so often, here's where some of Possumblog's readers come from.

Birmingham, Alabama (well, duh)
Linden, North Carolina
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Taipei, Taiwan
Glen Echo, Maryland
Savannah, Georgia
Pensacola, Florida
Edmonton, Redbridge, UK
Columbus, Ohio
Cleveland, Ohio
Rye, New York
Miami, Florida
Longmont, Colorado
Richmond, Virginia
Tacoma, Washington
Huntsville, Alabama
Victoria, British Columbia
Findlay, Ohio
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Quincy, Massachusetts
Waleska, Georgia
Stillwater, Oklahoma
Sioux City, Iowa
San Jose, California
Jakarta, Jawa Barat, Indonesia
Chicago, Illinois
Shiraz, Fars, Iran
Plano, Texas
Shreveport, Louisiana
Dearborn, Michigan
Smithsburg, Maryland
Dakar, Singapore
Jacksonville, Florida
Indianapolis, Indiana
Beijing, China
Fremont, California
Madrid, Spain
Toms River, New Jersey
Ashtabula, Ohio
Dallas, Texas
Frankfort, Kentucky
Howell, New Jersey
Winthrop Harbor, Illinois
Herald, California
Porto, Portugal
Tehran, Iran
Memphis, Tennessee
Heidelberg, Victoria, Australia
Bucharest, Romania
Boston, Massachusetts
Capel Saint Mary, Suffolk, UK
Rancho Mirage, California
Citrus Heights, California
Grantham, Pennsylvania
Oshkosh, Wisconsin
Bombay, Maharashtra, India
Fort Worth, Texas

Thanks for dropping by, everyone!

Still a bit unclear on the concept.

Blogging, that is.

The Birmingham News recently started doing their Breaking News updates on al.com in a blog format, complete with comments. Which is nice--sorta what you'd think a newpaper blog would be best at.

But this one shows they're still--nearly a decade after weblogs began to take off in popularity--not quite up on the protocol: Trussville police investigate Wachovia bank robbery.

What's the problem?

Well, when it first hit earlier in the day, the headline read something like, 'Trussville Police Investigate Possible Bank Robbery.' Sometime later in the day, the entire story was completely rewritten, but no mention was made of the wholesale changes, nor was the time of the update noted. That's why the comments seem so disjointed from the actual story--they were commenting on the peculiarity of reporting a "possible" robbery in the initial version, rather than the updated, more complete version.

Just a tip, folks--either post an update separately, or note the updated time and what was changed.

A Belated Blog Birthday Wish

To the ebullient Sarah Getzler who yesterday broke the 24 month barrier!

Happy bloggiday to you, and yes, I would like some cake, please!

Dern it all.

I want my comments back! It's just not the same when I can't engage in witty banter with my guests!

Stupid comment spam.

Another Anniversary!

Happy 500th to good ol' Skinnydan!

::sniff::

It seems like only yesterday when he did #1...

Stupid comment spam.

I'm just sayin'.

So you don't like the tedious, thin quality of this week's postings?

You say the obvious lack of content and weak drollery cause you no small amount of grief? The analysis of issues is addle-pated at best? The banality is enough to create apoplexy? The soaps are of inferior quality? The chairs smell of urine? The carpeting is worn through to equally worn linoleum of a horrid shade of puce? The staff have not bathed, the pencils are all broken, the radiators clang, the rats stole your brilliantine, and your posterior is pocked with boils?

WELL, MY FRIENDS--tomorrow will be a complete change of pace, in that there will be no Possumblog until much later in the morning, due to the ownership having to be at its regular semimonthly regulatory board meeting. Yes, we realize you've come to expect at least a teaspoonful of unamusement and abuse, but we shall not be able to provide even that tiny droplet of succor upon the morrow, until said meeting has been fully and completely concluded and your proprietor is once again safely ensconced behind his keyboard.

We regret any inconvenience this may cause.

Finally!

I can now be an Olympic athlete!! Olympic athletes may be allowed to blog

This is REALLY big news for me--I've been training at downhill blogging for six years now, and I don't think there's ANYone out there who's gone downhill faster than I have!

I hate the Internet

Or more particularly, Deluxe Communications malware that installed itself on my machine several months ago and has done nothing but create problems, such as just now when it caused a popup to popup that caused my computer's other systems to shut down all the open browser windows I was using, one of which just happened to be a longish political post I was doing on Rudy Giuliani, meaning that my last several minutes worth of careful linking and cross-checking was eaten up completely.

I also hate our IT guys who basically said live with the malware because it takes too much time to remove.

And I hate Microsoft for coming up with Windows, just like the other billion or so users hate them.

And although I don't hate Movable Type and mu.nu, it would be nice if there was a way for the software to do an automatic backup so posts wouldn't get eaten quite so easily. Yes, I know, Jesus saves and so should you, but shouldn't the whole idea of using a computer be to make life easier?

Now then, back to the stupid post I was trying to write.

No, silly...

...I'm not dead!

Only pining for the fjords.

Anyway, had a long meeting this morning to attend, so I'm just now getting to work, so no need to call out the St. Bernards and the avalanche patrol. Yet.

Swirly Schranck!

Good to hear that Fritz managed to escape un(mostly)scathed a few days ago from what sounds like a quite frightening experience, that of operating a Miata lika a Zamboni.

If only we had more global warming, things like this wouldn't happen.

Is it just me...

...or is it a VERY slow news day? It's very difficult to be BOLD NEW EDGY without stuff going on.

SO, maybe the best solution is to have everyone pitch in and let's put on a show! I've never done this before, so it's quite NEW, and I expect the results to be toward the peculiar range of things, marking it at once as both BOLD AND EDGY, so it should be good for getting people to chime in.

TODAY'S EVENT--the Semiannual Semiliterate Simile Contest!

(I know it's not actually semiannual, but I had some leftovers from the Annual Alliteration Altercation.)

ANYWHO, as Webster notes in his online dictionary, what we are talking about is this-- Simi"*le (?), n.; pl. Similes (#). [L., from similis. See Similar.] (Rhet.) A word or phrase by which anything is likened, in one or more of its aspects, to something else; a similitude; a poetical or imaginative comparison.

So, I would like to ask you all to complete the completely self-centered simile given to you below:

"Possumblog is like..."

At the end of the day a winner will be announced and will receive a free autographed picture of Chet the E-Mail Boy!

Have at it!

UPDATE!! 4:25 p.m. Wow! An incredible response from the blogosphere, making it tremendously difficult to pick a winner. Based on the submissions, I think we might just have to declare first place a tie between Miss Janis and Stan the Ex-Gummint Man! I know the rest of you will probably be disappointed that your entry wasn't chosen, but with so many to pick from, surely you must know how difficult it was to not just give a prize to everyone! IN ANY EVENT, congratulations to Janis and Stan, and I hope they treasure their photos of Chet forever.

I had a niggling notion...

...that I had missed something important, and sure enough, yesterday was Fritz Schranck's blog birthday. Fritz is a truly good man and it's been a pleasure corresponding (and occasionally chatting) with him over the years.

So here's to you, sir!

I show up one day...

...and then quickly scurry away the next to do silly work junk stuff.

Yes, it's a difficult task, trying to dissuade as many people as possible from reading Possumblog, but by now offering super low quantity as well as the usual poor quality, we hope to reduce our audience to negative numbers within mere days.

For those who DO decide to return for repeated abuse of your valuable time and patience, the trickle of insipidness and prattle will pick back up again sometime later tomorrow morning after I get back from my twice-monthly meeting of overly-concerned bureaucrats.

WELCOME TO THE NEW, IMPROVED POSSUMBLOG!!

We thank all of you for your kind responses and suggestions, and want to let you know that we've taken your offerings and have endeavored to make Possumblog the absolute finest weblog in existence.

First: Free ice cream!

Yes, not just frozen Kool Aid cubes with toothpick sticks, but real, LIVE ice cream! Just go to your local grocery store and pick up any brand, any flavor, or any size ice cream you want. It's YOURS, free of charge!*

Second: NEW FEATURES! A commentor by the name of Skillzy said we needed to expand Possumblog with things such as Possumblog Sports, Celebrities, Cooking, &c., and so from now on, anytime you see any show on television or the Internets about Sports, Celebrities, Cooking, &c., know that it is actually being written and produced here at Possumblog Studios. Oh, sure, we might not get a credit or money for it, but it's true. And we do it for you, Valued Reader.

Third: Jug Band Discussion! Hey, it's what all the youngsters are clamoring for! So, for the finest in Jug Bands and Jug Band chatter and Jug Band merchandise, we will provide for you--FREE OF CHARGE!!--this link to the Jug Band Music Society! We are more than happy to bring you this sort of fine entertainment.

Fourth: Offering Encouragement to New Bloggers! I have been reliably informed by a real university professor that this is one of the many things that will send me to Hell, and being that it's the most easily disposed of, let me say RIGHT NOW--DO NOT START YOUR OWN BLOG!

Haven't you dimbulbs heard that they're "written by fools to be read by imbeciles"!? You Cheeto-besmutted goobers with your mindless chatter about truthiness and poor John F. Kerry and Hillary's giant cankles--YOU'RE JUST A BUNCH OF LOSERS! How dare you even THINK you could come up to the level of someone or something who (or which) "has over centuries accumulated a major institutional culture that screens editorially for originality, expertise and seriousness[.]" Filthy peasant.

There now! I get to go to the Nice Place!

Fifth: (Reserved)

Sixth: Redneckedness! Having long been a proponent of the clothing optional lifestyle, I will henceforth post a daily** photo of myself sans clothing!

Here's the first one!

Seventh: Curtains! The guy from JC Penney's is on the way right now with some new burgundy velvet things with great big flowers all over them. I'm going to put them right over here, and then have some out of plain velvet over on this side. I might get a new curtain rod, too! EXCITING!

We hope you enjoy all of these new changes and features and again express our gratitude for your kind patronage.

*Void where prohibited by law.

**"Daily" shall not be construed literally, and in fact could be used by the author to indicate a one-time occurence of said action.

Serves 'em right, indeed.

"Well, it's finally gotten easy enough, so I herewith launch out into the fetid, overcrowded harbor of blogginess, courtesy of some computerized thingamabobber. You know, when they tapped out the old "what hath God wrought" line on the telegraph, I'm sure they figured this is where it would lead. Serves 'em right."

And thus five years ago this very day was launched the grand and exciting experiment we like to call Possumblog. Hard to believe, actually. I mean, who in their right mind would sit here and type 60 months' worth of twaddle as a lark!?

Well, me.

It's been a very interesting run. Like so many other folks, I trace my desire to use this medium (thus called because it is neither rare, nor well done) to some sort of need to make some sense of the world after September 11. Blogs had been around for a while, although I never knew that there were such folks as Glenn Reynolds or Steven den Beste, but when I found them it was certainly a pleasant discovery. They, and folks like them, didn't sound like maudlin teenagers or angry conspiracy nuts, and the discourse sounded nothing like the Usenet flamers and bulletin board trolls I was accustomed to ignoring.

So, after a few months of inspiration, this little treehouse was hammered together with some scrap lumber and bent nails, and a "NO IDIUTS ALOWED" sign was posted on the tree trunk.

Although I suppose it would be nice to have had the sort of skyrocketing popularity (i.e., money) of the folks who grew up to be the A-listers (some of whom really aren't very good, which I suppose could cause a pang of jealousy in that I'm equally not very good), I never really have tried to do that. This is my own little place, and sometimes I get some attention, and most of the time I don't, but either way, it doesn't kill my ego.

Why?

Well, this pile of poop has allowed me to vent, rant, ponder, pontificate, commiserate, and most of all, give folks all over the world just the slightest hint that just because I'm an openly-straight, Bible-toting, gun-owning, pasty-white, slow-talking Southern man, I might possibly just not quite fit the stereotype people have come to have of such folks. I do wear shoes most of the time, I do have a vague idea about such things as philosphy and thermodynamics, I have read more than two books (including one that didn't even have any pictures in it!), and believe it or not, I don't think people who disagree with me should be shut up in a reeducation camp. (I'm all for sending them to live in France.)

Anyway, I have generally written what I want to write, about the subjects that interest me, and you all have been a remarkably patient lot of friends I can count on to come by and sit for a while in the chair over there by the door. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. Really. I often think that I would have gone insane the last few years if I had not had a way to put some order to my thoughts and been able to interact with someone out there in the wider world--someone who doesn't see a conspiracy behind every tree. Or Bush. So being able to sit here and imagine that I'm having a friendly, somewhat loopy conversation with a friend who happened to drop by my office has been a true blessing.

Thanks.

Now then, where do we go from here?

Suggestions gratefully accepted in the comments below.

Kitchen Hand Gets a Shiner.

I don't know why I enjoy tales of accidental self-injury, other than it lets me know that I am not alone in my debility.

It's not every day...

...you're a year old. Happy blogbirthday to Diane the Quiltress, and my apologies for not mentioning it sooner. As penance, I will send Chet the E-Mail Boy with the horse trailer and two ponies, AND an extra 20 bucks to buy some more ice cream for everyone.

Y'know. sometimes...

...when I'm sitting here typing away wondering why I'm sitting here typing away, I wonder why it is I feel compelled to do this since the whole gig comes with no dollars and even less public acclamation. Not that I seek those things, exactly, but it does seem a rather odd way to pass the time between bureacratic emergencies, when I could be out doing something productive, like bringing about global peace and understanding.

I must admit that I do feel a touch better about it when I read this little throw-away pixel'd by my blogging inspiration, Mr. Lileks:

One more thing: it seems I’m up for a weblog award. You can vote here. I would love to beat Andrew Sullivan, not because I have any animus towards him, but because he’s backed by Time magazine, and this is a go-it-alone operation paid for by yours truly. Heck, if I win, I might even get listed on the Star-Tribune’s page of staff blogs. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the head.

Heh--he's been writing and posting stuff on that there Internet since it was nothing more than a moist synapse in Al Gore's cranium, and the very newspaper he works for doesn't even have him on its list of staff blogs!? It's so very Gift of the Magi-y, so ridiculous or comedic or comediculous or whatever that I can't even fathom it.

And I guess it makes not figuring out a way to convert my five years worth of mindless turgidity (the online version, that is) into huge baskets of money a bit easier to live with.

A bit.

Swinging for the fence.

Quite possibly the best made-up spam name ever: Dewlap P. Laundromat

And now, the spigot gets wrenched closed.

Got myself another continuing education seminar tomorrow morning, so you better make sure what I've put out today lasts you until sometime tomorrow afternoon! Or, you know, you could go read stuff other people write, but I discourage that, because you might not ever want to come back here.

On walkabout.

Of sorts. Kitchen Hand and family are covering an awful lot of territory in one of their fleet of trusty Volvos, and all of the places sound interesting and exotic. It's almost like it's a different country or something...

A little help, please.

Taking a moment here from the relaxation offered by gainful employment to answer a call for assistance from fellow blogger and tractorphile, Dave Helton.

Dave has a client who sponsors a charity art auction for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. Dave says, "They get artwork from kids in the local schools and auction it off and then match (either half or all, I don't recall which) of what's raised."

Since Dave has been doing actual work lately, he hasn't had much time to blog and as a result hasn't had as many folks dropping by, so he asked me to pass this along to those of you in the vast and mighty Possumblog readership. If you can help out a bit by bidding or by posting a link to the auction, I know Dave, his client, and the folks at St. Jude's would greatly appreciate it.

Here is the artwork site, and there's also an e-card that goes along with it as well.

Thank you very much.

Now, back to work.

HEY, Y'ALL!

Every once in a while I like to see where folks are visiting from. Here's a sample from the past few hours of the exotic locations people are in (not counting the local area as exotic):

Park Ridge, New Jersey
Dallas, Texas
Southfield, Michigan
Roy, Utah
Lannon, Wisconsin
Louisville, Kentucky
Glen Echo, Maryland
Barranquitas, Puerto Rico
South Pasadena, California
Fountain Valley, California
Farmington, Michigan
Richmond, Virginia
Richmond, Virginia
Bruning, Nebraska
Lorena, Texas
Waynesboro, Virginia
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Cleveland, Ohio
Coudersport, Pennsylvania
Dallas, Texas
Metairie, Louisiana
Findlay, Ohio
Lima, Peru
Greencastle, Indiana
Trussville, Alabama
Pico Rivera, California
Lannon, Wisconsin
Simpsonville, South Carolina
Evanston, Illinois
Glen Echo, Maryland
Huntsville, Alabama
Irving, Texas
Saginaw, Alabama
Southfield, Michigan
Arlington Heights, Illinois
Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Pierre, South Dakota
Greenville, North Carolina
Chicago, Illinois
Smithsburg, Maryland
Tehran, Iran
Bridgeport, Pennsylvania
Pasadena, California
Commerce, Texas
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
Dover, Delaware
Smithsburg, Maryland
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Glen Echo, Maryland
Huntsville, Alabama
Barcelona, Anzoategui
Bellport, New York
Petaling Jaya, Wilayah Persekutuan, Malaysia
Big Bay, Michigan
Pensacola, Florida
Hill AFB, Utah
New Paris, Indiana
Cleveland, Ohio
Weil Im Schnbuch, Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Greenville, North Carolina
Mount Laurel, New Jersey
Richmond, Virginia
Richmond, Virginia
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Marble, Pennsylvania
Findlay, Ohio
New Orleans, Louisiana
Rochester, New York
Lannon, Wisconsin
West Jefferson, Ohio
Evanston, Illinois
Glen Echo, Maryland
Washington, District of Columbia
Marietta, Georgia

HEY EVERYONE! Thanks for dropping by, even if you didn't stay long. The list looks a little USA-centric, but as the evening goes on the international folks start showing up in larger numbers. So 'hey' to them, too.

I'll tell you one thing...

...that there election sure was good for traffic! Or something was. Anyway, for both Tuesday and Wednesday I had about three times the usual hits.

SO, hello to all you people who are new!

(Even though I think most of you were looking for the photos of Kirstie Alley's newest bikini-clad foray on the Oprah show. Sorry--don't have them here, although if you'd just go to Oprah's website, she's got what you're looking for. Just remember to tell her I sent you, and maybe she'll give me a car.)

More Help in the Kitchen!

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

Tomorrow?

Meeting.

Blech.

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

::sigh::

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.

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.

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.

OKAY!

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

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.

Well, that should do it.

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

HEY!

Would you look at that!

Congratulations to the happy family!

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

Now then.

I wonder what we'll do for fun tomorrow?

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!

"But what of tomorrow!?" you cry.

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

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

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

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

Have you seen this blogger?

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

His excuse for his long absence? Work.

I question the timing.

Well, I'll be.

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

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

$28.88.

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

Or not.

Great News For Possumblog!!

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

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

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

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

Paw-paw done come home!

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

Way up there in the mountains...

is a sleepy little village called Wandiligong.

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

GRAMPS!

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

Here on the ranch...

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

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

Ernestoblogging!

Jim Smith reports.

Also of interest, Wake Island is having a bit of a go of it, too.

Now usually...

...I do my best not to oversell what you'll find on here on any given day, mainly because things have a way of getting all messed up and I fail to meet the high expectations that have been set. But today, I think even if it DOES get messed up, there's gonna be so much high-quality fooferall on here that it would charm even the most jaded soul. Lots of kitty pictures, scenes of domestic harmony, Catherine Deneuve, and The World's Greatest Sport.

Having thus built up the suspense, I do beg your patience in one thing--it does take a while to get all the photos resized and uploaded and junk, and then I have to go and write stuff to go with them, and since that horrible head trauma that I can't remember anything about, it does take longer than it used to to come up with something. So please, your patience is appreciated.

All I got to say is...

...tomorrow better not be as boring around Possumblog as it was today, or I'll be forced to post extended passages from Reginald and Dempsey's 1854 edition of The Compendium of Supperation and Putrefaction.

Yes, that's right.

I am still loaded up with stuff to do and just can't seem to find the necessary concentration skills to make any headway on it. Need to, though. Not only that, I can't quite concentrate on something to include here, either. It's all just a bunch of random stuff.

For instance: So Pluto's not a planet?

My response? Who cares.

SEE!? That's no way to do a blog post! It should be loud and stupid and call for something like blowing it up if it's not a planet. And then Frank J. could claim I'm ripping off his Nuke the Moon! schtick, and we could get in a big slap fight about it.

Something else, then. Mmm--what about newborn albino pygmy marmosets?

My response--Awwww. Who cares.

AGAIN--that is just no way to put out something with punch and vigor! I should be all over that story with bright ideas for a new line of cornbread-battered and deep fried marmosets on a stick--or even better--MINIATURE cornbread-battered and deep fried marmosets on a toothpick. MiniCornosets! But no. It's just too obvious, and it's not even worth the trouble. Nor would it be worth mentioning that it might be cool to stuff a whole bunch of them into a little plastic barrel.

What about Logitech unveils new cordless laser mice ?

My response: Who cares.

I mean, I SHOULD care, what with there being an obvious "Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering" angle just ripe for a stupid riposte, but I just can't work up the necessary effort to go find the required Pinky and the Brain fan site that has the canonical list, then find something completely unrelated like, "I think so, Brain, but, the Rockettes? I mean, it's mostly girls, isn't it?"

Maybe I'll redecorate around here. Maybe some nice curtains, or a change to the font sizes, or a picture of a buffalo or something.

Nah. Too much trouble.

And here I thought...

...he was just off lolly-gagging around not doing anything. Fritz has been a busy fellow!

Great Literature--UPDATED

As the handy Kitchen Hand rightly guessed in the comments from the last post of yesterday, we're gonna have us some Story Time today!

Now, here's the deal--you have to write it. Yes, I know you're used to coming to Possumblog and having a giant smorgasbord laid out for you to choose from, requiring only that you grab a plate and partake. Yes, I also realize it's never been one of those spreads that's really full of nice food--there's a lot more Vienna sausage and saltines on the table than there is caviar. But hey, caviar is what we call catfish bait around here, so big whoop, am I right!? Sure.

We have done this here at Possumblog one time in the past, and I would link to it if I could find it in the vast dusty archives. But I couldn't. Anyway, to explain--I will start you all out with an opening paragraph of a story and YOU, noble readers, will continue the story in the comments section.

To make it a bit easier for you, remember to click on the link that has the time stamp on it to go to the comments section. The OTHER thing that actually says "Comments" won't ever remember your log-in information, and it only shows the comments and not the full post.

The only rules are to keep an eye on your more earthy language--asterisks are encouraged; the story can take any turn or twist you want, whether dramatic or comedic; and each comment does need to have enough continuity to be readable.

UPDATE: You can write as little or as much as you want. But everyone has to leave something, or else this thing will just stay up here all day being all boring and non-fun.

Here we go:

Dewayne Stratton put on a cap and a light jacket. He looked himself over in the mirror, and for the life of him couldn't remember why he ever thought this would be a good idea. He patted his pants pocket, and decided it would be better if he left his lighter and cigarettes on the dresser. He jumped when the telephone on the nightstand rang. It was one of the old style phones, with the big red "message waiting" gumball lights above the dial, and a set of bells inside that could wake the dead. Almost. He picked up the grimy receiver and held it up to his ear.

There better be more stuff on here tomorrow, or...

...well, I don't know what, but I don't think ANYone will like it.

I'm thinking it's time for a contest of some sort.

We'll see.

Yes, it's true.

I love Tim Blair. But only because of stuff like this, not because he's a ruggedly handsome Australian. Because I've never even noticed that. And even if I had, that wouldn't be the reason.

HURRY!!

Comments are working again!

At least for the moment...

Yes, I know.

The comments appear to be quite well broken at the moment. I offer my most abject apologies.

"Happy anniversary, baby..."

I got the Smiths on my miiiii-ind! Dr. Smith and his nice wife, whom I've never met, celebrate 32 years of connubial bliss! Glad tidings to them both.

And not only that, but Jimbo also celebrates three years of blogubial bliss for Unfreezing. Congratulations on that as well, Doc.

Well, he may say he's lazy in the kitchen...

...but he's certainly been getting busy elsewhere.

Congratulations to the happy family!

It's not that I'm antisocial...

...I just don't like people or having to endure being around them!

Steevil makes note of this post from the Brothers Judd about people who spend a lot of time on the computer. You know--those type of people.

Not like me at all.

I realize it's hard to categorize, but...

...when you think of Possumblog, would you describe it as a "Group blog on current trends in news and politics"? Nah, probably not, BUT I AM NONETHELESS thankful to Eponym.com for thinking enough of Possumblog to name it as their blog of the day.

One of the things that has been consistent about Possumblog over the years is its maddening refusal to be placed in a category, and I kinda like it that way. And I hope you do, too.

UPDATE: The very nice support folks at Eponym made a correction to the listing to note that I am Supreme Possumblog Editor, Chancellor, President, and Exhalted Ruler, but also went to the trouble to ask if I had a description I thought might be more descriptive. I suggested this one: "Blog with a humorous take on current trends in a wide variety of subjects, including news, politics, entertainment, history, work, religion, family, and vicious animals."

Yes, I realize I might get into trouble for lying about the humorous part.

UPDATE: AND I forgot to mention it, but hello to those of you who clicked over here out of curiosity. Please do not be put off by the lack of content--once you get used to it, I hear it's very refreshing. Anyway, thanks for stopping by, feel free to leave a comment (as long as it is nice--I live for constant positive reinforcement), and come back again soon.

I was wondering...

...what with all the sock-puppet controversy currently a'raging, do all of my imaginary friends count as sock puppets, or do they get to have their own real-person status since none of them agree with me?

Except for Chet the E-Mail Boy, who KNOWS which side his bread is buttered on. Or, you know, where that box of corn flakes comes from.

ANYWAY, if they all are still considered sock puppets, do I actually HAVE to cover my hand with a button-eyed sock while typing defamatory comments about myself, or is that more for dramatic effect in photos?

Do each one of them have to have to be equally unhinged, or can some of them be a bit more sane than others?

Do I have to withhold FICA and Social Security from their checks, or do they fall under the category of independent contractors?

If one of them tries to strangle me, do I report that to the police, or just take that as an expression of its impotent rage, directed at me only because I am a convenient symbol of oppression, and therefore excuse it as regrettable, but inevitable?

If one of my sock puppet/imaginary friends insults another one of my personalities/dopplegangers, are they supposed to fight that out in the comments, or should they take that offline and and merely exchange threatening e-mails with each other?

I tell you--this blogging stuff has REALLY gotten confusing.

And then...

...not only has today been devoid of content, TOMORROW will be as well, at least for the morning--I have to get Catherine registered for school, and so I have to go do that before doing anything else.

Downside? Yet another reason for my carefully nurtured readership to switch to more entertaining fare, such as listening to Ed Flemder's podcast of him reading from Loomis' Advanced Hydraulic Slurry Metering and Control, (5th Edition).

Upside? Large amounts of exceedingly attractive women.

So, you know, I guess it all evens out.

ANYWAY, thanks for stopping by and listening to me be pitiful today, and maybe tomorrow, if the Internets don't spring a leak, we might actually have some fun!

We are pleased to announce...

...the thin, tepid flow of increativity that is the hallmark of Possumblog HAS BEEN RESTORED!

This was made much more difficult than usual by the fact that someone here in the building must have tripped over the power cord to the Internet and yanked it out of the socket, resulting in a complete loss of the ability to access the outside world.

Aside, from, you know, actually going outside.

Or picking up the phone.

ANYway, it wasn’t working for many precious hours--from about 10 this morning until now.

And Possumblog was restored despite the fact that several of you chose to defy my warnings, and touched the handwheel of the stupidity valve in an entirely inappropriate way.

You will be dealt with appropriately.

This whole deal with the machinery has really gotten frustrating--if it’s not server problems with Mu.nu, it’s some sort of computer weirdness going on here, or alternately, some wildly stupid exercise in futility assigned to me by my superiors that does nothing but waste massive amounts of time and paper.

It all makes me wonder if it’s not some sort of cosmic e-mail telling me it’s time to just give up.

The whole thing here is based on spur-o’the-moment inanity (with occasional flashes of undisguised lucidity), most of it relying heavily on commenting on stuff I see on the Web. THAT, in turn, requires the ability to quickly grab and link stuff and throw a few mildly comedic gems in for good measure--all on the fly. If I can’t do that, then all I can do is sit here and do my paying work (which makes my head hurt), or sit here and come up with long, deep, lovingly crafted works that require actual thought and reasoning (which makes my head hurt). Oh, sure, I could do what I’m doing right now--whiling away some time between typing up meeting minutes to type up something with all the snap of a wet tissue, but I don’t think that would live up even to the lowest expectations you might have ever harbored toward Possumblog.

Or maybe it would.

In either case, Possumblog has always been my way of running away and joining the circus, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that I could stay inside in the air conditioning, not have to wear sequined tights (usually), eat something other than three-day-old hot dogs, and not have to smell elephant dung (usually). But when the circus train keeps derailing, it makes it very hard to have anything to run away to when the mood strikes. Oh, sure--there’s that rickety carnival set up in the K-Mart parking lot, but the guy who runs the airplane ride who has the tattoo on his chest of his internal organs frightens me. And let’s face it--it’s not really a circus, is it?

I could be a hobo, I suppose, but eating beans out of a can is only fun for about a week, and then it gets old. And let’s face it--hopping rides on rail cars just isn’t as glam as it used to be. And Glenn Reynolds is always stalking you so he can kill you just for kicks. That’s certainly a strike against it.

Cowboy? Well, there’s guns, which is good, but you also have to work hard--even the shiftless ne’er-do-wells have a lot of prep work to do. And there’s all that dust. And cows. And other cowboys. Probably several of whom thought Brokeback Mountain was a thoughtfully-crafted and timeless love story.

I have thought about running away and becoming a steamboat pilot like Mark Twain--that would be cool. Except steamboats are all floating casinos now and don’t actually go anywhere. And further, reports of Mark Twain’s death are greatly unexaggerated.

Maybe I could be an astronaut--I know Steevil, and he’s a rocket scientist and all, so that would give me an in. You get nifty coveralls to wear, and Dippin’ Dots ice cream, and get to hang around smart people, and--hmm. There’s a drawback. I think you’re supposed to be really smart at doing something to be an astronaut, and I don’t mean stuff like folding paper or arranging pencils. Then again, maybe that lack of skill could be my specialty--they could use me as an experiment and see if I get smarter in space. I mean, if they were willing to send up monkeys, surely they’d be willing to try out a blogger! And I DO like bananas!

Hmph. Maybe I just need a walk around the park.

squeek--squeek--squeeeeeeek

HEY! I can do sound effects! That one was of the big cast iron wheel that controls the valve that controls the spew of drabness flooding out of Possumblog as it was turned to the OFF position. (This is a picture of the valve itself--it is a new one that replaced the old one that broke.) I have my usual every-other-Wednesday meeting tomorrow morning, and thus there will be nothing in the way of regular blather output until sometime later in the day. All of you are free to wander about the grounds, but PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE BIG CAST IRON WHEEL! It is dangerous and should only be touched by those with proper training.

Just exactly who am I?

Why, obviously, I am a young Internet user--a novice storyteller who enjoys relating my own experiences, and I have a growing audience in the online world! At least according to Pew.

I feel so very, very, hip.

You know what this blog needs!?

That's EXACTLY right! I mean, we've been sort of talking around it all along, but I think the time has come to do just what you said. Oh, sure--it could get involved, and there probably will be some expense to it, but I think unless I get on it right now, the opportunity may be lost.

For some reason...

...Nate's rather frightening story reminds me of the old Far Side cartoon--

"Bummer of a birthmark, Hal."

Glad to hear no one was injured, other than Nate's billfold.

Of bushrangers and beetroots.

My Volvo-blessed Aussie pal Kitchen Hand is on holiday, driving all over the place, and delivers a nice round-up of things seen and pondered upon.

I tell you what...

...all this screwy mess with the computers--from stupid Blogger to my own kludgy desktop machine's maddening refusal to cooperate--really makes it difficult to be creative. Maybe I've just gotten spoiled, but unless I can just type as quickly as I think of something, and then punch "publish" with some sense that it will actually work right, the whole thing just gets thrown off. The first time through always seems much more humorous, but trying to recreate a post like that a second time is just about as anticreative as it can get, at least to me. All the spontaneity is gone, and that just spoils everything.

ADD TO THIS the dread realization that tomorrow is yet another one of those bi-monthly meetings I have to attend, and FURTHER that I've got to take off early today to go get the kids from Grandma's house so they can go to a dinner of some sort, and it just makes me want to just go sit in the park and yalp at random passersby.

Stupid STUPID Blogger

I just finished my big "workin' on my Volvo" post over on Revolvoblog with pictures and humor and such, clicked publish, and it said I was good to go. Yippee! For once it didn't mess up!

I clicked over to view it, and for some reason, the post didn't show up. Eh--no big deal--sometimes it takes a minute or two.

Jumped back to the edit screen and pulled up my template to add a couple of items to my line-item listing of repairs I've made (which is part of the template), saved, hit republish, and with great anticipation ran over to see what was going on.

Not only was the post not there, there was no more Revolvoblog!

I jumped back to edit--my just posted post was nowhere to be found. Jumped to the template--NOTHING THERE. I had a huge list of stuff on that template that took forever to format, and ALL OF IT WAS GONE!

Pfft!

Now, I KNOW I didn't erase the template, or overwrite everything when I did my template update. But by gum it was now irretrievably screwed up.

THANK GOODNESS FOR GOOGLE CACHE.

I thought maybe, just maybe, I could Google it, get a recent capture (it hasn't changed since June 20), and maybe use the View Source command to pick up the formatting.

Sure enough, the information was all there, so I copied it, pasted it back into the template, saved it, and now it's back in one piece. Sans my most recent post, of course.

Stupid Blogger.

And yes, by now I SHOULD know to save a copy before publishing--every time this happens, I am reminded by several people that I should have done this. Obviously, since I am a moron, you're just wasting your breath.

UPDATE: Apparently there's more to it--for some reason, even when posts are saved, they aren't appearing on the blog page. I managed to cross post this one over there, but it's not showing up at all. Stupid Blogger.

Neglectfulness

Those of you who've been reading this mess for a long, long time will remember that there was a precursor effort to this blog way back in the mists of time--a Geocities site where I would post some short stories and proto-blog entries. Why bring this up now? Well, I got an e-mail from Yahoo! saying my guestbook was getting full. Guestbook?

OH YEAH!

Oops.

It seems that I forgot the thing even HAD a guestbook. I went over there and found that people from all over the place (even the Blogger Formerly Known as Sugarmama) had left notes, but none of them had ever been posted because I had set the thing up to manually add them after review. And had forgotten to click the button that sent a notification when someone had added a comment. So, I had a stack of 45 messages to approve that had been left over the past four years. Most of them were spam, of course, but several were just nice folks who stopped by. It's working now, and in the future hopefully I won't allow myself to get so far behind.

(Even if it is nothing but a silly Geocities site.)

First it was the ribs, and now it's the shank...

Poor Dr. Smith can't seem to catch a break. Or more precisely, can't seem to STOP catching breaks.

Please take a moment and hop over (carefully--and watch those steps) to let Jim know you have him in your thoughts.

Welllll, well, well, well, WELL!

Would you look and see who went and moved and got his own domain name!

In high cotton, indeed! (Or, high taters, as the case may be.)

Very spiffy, sir.

Uh-oh.

Via Skillzy (who is trying to get a butt-kicking not only from Kentuckians but also from Soul Patrollers), this really neat and cool and handy set of silly image tools from Flickr. What's even better is that you don't have to have a Flickr account to use them--nothing wrong with having an account, obviously, but you know how some people are about not letting you play with their toys.

I sense much wasted time coming up in the near future...

Hmmm--a bold gambit, sir.

You know how you get those daily GREETING TO YOU FROM IVOYR COASTE e-mails every day, with offers to transfer to your banks accountings lavish sums of money, usually in the tens of millions of UNITED STATES DOLLAR FUNDS?

Well, there's never anything really good in them anymore--same old stuff, and all of them seeing to have taken the political ward-boss's advice of, "if you're going to lie, might as well lie big."

But just now I received something VERY clever--rather than sounding alarm bells by promising millions upon millions of dollars, this chap has another trick up his sleeve:

Dear Friend,

I am pleased to introduce a business opportunity that will be beneficial to both you and me. It involves transferring to your overseas account the sum of ($7.5;US Dollars) Seven Thousand, Five Hundred Dollars, from one of the Fidelity Finance & Security Company here in Dakar-Senegal. [Etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. Etc.]

Say--he's not promising outragous amounts, so IT MUST BE REAL!! Although I do admit to being troubled by the discrepancy between the numerical figure of $7.50, and the text description of "Seven Thousand, Five Hundred Dollars."

But darn the luck--I don't HAVE an overseas account.

Oh, well.

A bit belated...

...however I did want to congratulate Mr. SchranCk on getting a nice mention in the Dover, DE newspaper for his work on Sneaking Suspicions.

I especially agree with this part of the write-up he received: Moderate, reasonable tone throughout that betrays the age of the author.

Indeed, until I actually corresponded with Fritz, I had no idea he was only 23.

Brainy Guy Update

Just got a note from our good friend and commentor Steevil the NASA Scientist Guy, who says he has now been released from the hospital. I assume this means he's at home, and not just wandering around the grounds of the campus with a big bandage on his head.

In any event, good to hear things are progressing as planned.

First things first.

As you recall from Friday Steevil (aka "Steve"), one of the Friends of Possumblog as well as a famed NASA rocket scientist and brother of Dr. Weevil, was going into Johns-Hopkins for some brain surgery. I got a message last night from his wife--

To all,

Steve's surgery went very well today. He was awake, alert, and grouchy by the time they let me in to see him (about 4:00 p.m.). He was complaining to the doctors and nurses about all the things he was hooked up to. So, I guess it's a good sign that he's on his way to being his old self again.

The doctor said that he removed a cyst, but he doesn't know what caused it. He also found and removed a new tumor, and removed what was left of the first one. Everything has been sent out to pathology for biopsy, but he was pretty sure that the new tumor was also a benign meningioma.

Of course, even the doctor is somewhat concerned that Steve had a recurrence in only 3 years. But I guess that sometimes just happens.

Steve is hoping to get back to sailing soon, but hasn't had the nerve to ask the doctor how long it will be before he can go out. As the mean, dutiful wife, I expect that it will be my job to ask the hard questions.

AND, not only that, they just found out that they're going to be grandparents, too!

Anyway, I know Steve and Kathie (Spousil of Steevil) appreciate your kind thoughts during his recovery.

For those of you who know it does some good.

If you've been by here very much, you are probably familiar with a frequent commentor who goes by the name Steevil. Besides being the real-life brother of famed Latinist and pie aficionado Dr. Weevil, Steevil (or "Steve") also does rocket science work for NASA. (As a way of trying to make people more comfortable around the super intelligence required for NASA work, Steevil diguises himself as a moron by actually owning his own boat!)

And you might not know it, but Steve has been soldiering through a particularly bothersome health issue related to a brain tumor he had removed recently, and sends word that he will be undergoing a follow-up surgery at Johns-Hopkins on Monday at 7:45 am.

On his behalf, please keep him, his family, and his medical team in your thoughts and prayers.

Work

Much to do today, for some reason, so your allocation of mindless rambling will of a necessity have to be provided by someone else, at least for the next few hours. We hope to restore your service as quickly as possible.

BUT, before I go...

I've never run into it before, but I just wanted to say I think it's pretty cool to find out that both a father and a son have blogs that managed to intersect at Possumblog. All of you be sure to visit Roger and say hey.

Geographic Shoutout!

Every once in a while I'll mess around and see where visitors to The Internet's Most Boringest Place are coming from. Today I thought I'd do that AND say hey to these far-flung folks.

So, a great big hey to:

Ankara, Turkey
Annecy, Rhone-Alpes, France
Asnires, Centre, France
Auburn, Indiana
Auburn, Michigan
Auckland, New Zealand
Austin, Texas
Baltimore, Maryland
Barcelona, Cataluna, Spain
Barksdale AFB, Louisiana
Bayside, New York
Birmingham, Alabama
Bogryd, Vastra Gotaland, Sweden
Bondues, Nord-Pas-de-Calais, France
Bowie, Maryland
Budapest, Hungary
Burbank, California
Chaichiaotou, T'ai-wan, Taiwan
Charlottenlund, Kobenhavn, Denmark
Chesterfield, Virginia
Chicago, Illinois
Citrus Heights, California
Columbia, South Carolina
Findlay, Ohio
Finley, California
Fort Collins, Colorado
Frankfurt Am Main, Hessen, Germany
Gadsden, Alabama
Gnephoek, Zuid-Holland, Netherlands
Greensboro, North Carolina
Grimesland, North Carolina
Hartford, Connecticut
Hill AFB, Utah
Hoogbuul, Antwerpen, Holland
Huntsville, Alabama
Iasi, Romania
Irancheh, Chahar Mahall va Bakht, Iran
Irving, Texas
Istanbul, Turkey
Jamestown, North Carolina
Key West, Florida
Leigh, Wigan, UK
Linz, Oberosterreich, Germany
Loretto, Pennsylvania
Marquette, Nebraska
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Mount Laurel, New Jersey
Nashville, Tennessee
Neder Holluf, Fyn, Denmark
New Hyde Park, New York
Nice, Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur, France
Novate Milanese, Lombardia, Italy
Oak Brook, Illinois
Ogden, Utah
Paris, Ile-de-France, France
Plano, Texas
Plant City, Florida
Polgr, Hajdu-Bihar, Hungary
Rainbow City, Alabama
Richardson, Texas
Riverside, Illinois
Riyadh, Ar Riyad, Saudi Arabia
Roehampton, Bromley, UK
Saint-Ouen-en-Brie, Ile-de-France, France
San Antonio, Texas
Shrub Oak, New York
Sioux City, Iowa
Southside, Alabama
Starkville, Mississippi
Stoke-on-Trent, UK
Telford, Telford and Wrekin, UK
Thomaston, Georgia
Thomaston, Georgia
Timisoara, Timis, Romania
Torbole, Lombardia, Italy
Tranbjerg, Arhus, Denmark
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Vico Equense, Campania, Italy
Victoria, British Columbia, Canada
Villaverde, Madrid, Spain
Waleska, Georgia
Warsaw, Warszawa, Poland
Washington, District of Columbia
Wayne, Pennsylvania
Williamsburg, Virginia
Wilson, North Carolina

If there is one thing that I enjoy most about writing Possumblog, it's that it makes the world a whole lot smaller. All of you have a great day, or evening.

You know what happens when you get too busy in real life?

You tend to miss out on talking to your virtual friends--two in particular could use some good wishes right now, Jordana Adams and her family, and Francesca G.O. Yorkielady and hers.

Lots and lots of icky sickness (or sicky ickness) in both their families right now, and I know they both would appreciate any kind thoughts and prayers you'd be willing to send along.

Huh?

Just checked the ol' referrer log, and for some reason, I had over 2,000 page views yesterday. What was that all about?

UPDATE: 10:45 in the morning, and I'm already at nearly 800 hits (pretty much the most I see in a regular day)--with most of the hits still seemingly driven by the mad search for Catherine Deneuve.

Well, good morning all you new Possumblog readers! You certainly are welcome to look around, but with all the silly old work I'm mired in at the moment, you won't see much in the way of the jovial fun that Possumblog is known for. However, if possible, we might play a quick game of Chutes and Ladders later on in the day!

And HEY, you new folks--tell us what's going on with this sudden upswing in visits! I know I don't have the only picture of Miss Denueve out there.

Wow.

That guy can take some pretty good snapshots.

(Although I confess being disappointed that there were no shots of Delaware's famed marshmallow farms.)

A milestone, of sorts.

In just a few minutes, the old odometer will kick over 500,000 page hits. In the greater scheme of things, that's not really a lot, considering how long I've been at this, and really, according to the Sitemeter stats, I'm actually at something like 511,000 or so, although I can't explain why the ticker only reads 500, but BE THAT AS IT MAY, it is an interesting little anniversary of sorts.

For those of you who have contributed to this event, I thank you very much for your continue patience and willingness to put up with a rather large pile of poop.

Ooooh--Time for a SPANKIN'

Congratulations to Megabeth on the anniversary of her birth today, about which you will find nothing on her blog.

Thanks goodness Mr. Skillzy remembers such things!

World's Oldest Aardvark

From Volume One of Encyclopedia Possumica, we learn that the average lifespan of the aardvark (from the Afrikaans word meaning "earth pig") in captivity is approximately 25 years. Thus, we are quite happy to wish one particular Aardvark a very happy 44th birthday!

I Is Rubies!

As proof that blogging has reached critical mass, believe it or not, there is such a thing as pet blogs. Not blogs about pets, but blogs actually written by pets! Yes, I know--technology is truly an amazing thing.

ANYway, this revelation was given to me by none other than Ruby, who is the owner of self-surgery guru Megabeth. So, for all of you who hankered to keep up with Ruby's tennis ball chasing and poop eating frenzies and were disappointed not to be receiving regular updates, your wait is now over! Ruby is a highly talented writer who casts a keen (and widely bulging) eye on the world's events. I'm sure you will enjoy reading about her adventures, and if you don't, she will pee on your carpet.

I Sense a New Blogseries in the Making...

Learning with Larry.

Ahhh.

Just took a few minutes to clean out the 2,000 spam e-mails from my Gmail inbox. Lucky for me that anything over thirty days is automatically deleted, huh?

Google keeps adding features to Gmail, such as the one I noticed this morning where deleting became its own little button, rather than an item in a drop down menu. Sure would be nice if they'd make that a bit more obvious for the first few days, because for those of us who've used it since it was new, ingrained habits die hard. It's been frustrating to try to delete, then remember you have a button for it now. (Unlike Skillzy, however, I didn't really get too upset when the menu option changed from "move to trash" to "delete." I never really read it in the first place, and it was at least in the same menu position as before.)

ANYway, in a similar make-it-nicer vein, it would be nice if they'd come up with a way to dump ALL spam at once, rather than having to select and delete. I suppose if I had my spam box set up to display 2000 messages at once, it would be quicker, but as it is, it only shows 100 at a time. Meaning I had to delete 20 times. No big deal, but a single dump button sure would be nice.

OH! And look! Just in the time it took for me to gloat about deleting all that, ANOTHER one just showed up!

Give the spammers credit for persistence, I suppose.

38 Years Tomorrow.

Happy anniversary to the fun couple!

Happy Anniversary!

I'm sorry I missed it yesterday, but Osmondlandia's own Nate McCord turned three blogyears old yesterday. See his commemorative post here, as well as the follow up here.

Nate's been a good friend all these years, and it's nice to see he's still blogging away, even with the recent loss of worktime blogging privileges.

Happy anniversary, Nate.

What better way to spend Friday the 13th?

Congratulations to Miss Janis and Mister Lyman on their big day.

Captain! Klingon warbird decloaking off the starboard bow!

Both Jordana and Nate make note that this (or rather, what's left of it) is De-Lurking Week, and invite their readers who are too shy to leave comments to come out in the light and say hey.

I've done this before, and it's always fun to find out who's reading this tripe. And, more mystifyingly, who's enjoying it. I especially like to hear from you foreign folks from exotic places such as Portugal, or Arkansas.

SO, if you come by my little corner of the world every so often, and have never gotten up the necessary wind to leave a comment, now's the time! I promise I won't make fun of you or anything. Much.

Hmm.

Interesting....Long time reader and commentor Stan the Government Man just sent me this link to a site run by a nice fellow named Dane Carlson. The widget in question is said to be inspired by "Tristan Louis's research into the value of each link to Weblogs Inc," and incorporates an "applet using Technorati's API which computes and displays your blog's worth using the same link to dollar ratio as the AOL-Weblogs Inc deal." Whatever that means.

As it stands, it seems that as of the moment of posting, the Mighty Possumblog is worth $32,743.32, which compares quite favorably with Instapundit at $3,826,452.12.

Stan speculates that the incredibly high price for Possumblog is the result of "the cumulative value of all those Cornatees." Well, there is that, and there's also my collection of curiously-shaped rocks.

(Surprisingly enough, Revolvoblog is worth $3,951.78, which is about twice what Järn the Volvo is worth.)

I wonder...

...if he's going to change his name to Larry Ranterson?

#3 on the list is rather humorous--anyone who wants to fight a political fight against evil King George by using Shinseki as an example is so embarrassingly misinformed he risks being labled non compos mentis.

Yorkie Blogging!

Our impatient patient seems to have gotten in fine enough fettle to do a little pajamablogging!

Very strange.

I got into an e-mail exchange with My Friend Jeff yesterday on the topic of tires, and, as is our wont, it quickly diverged into all sorts of only barely-related stupidities of silliness. And then this morning, it took right back up where it left off, and I said something about Bulwer Lytton, and then he wrote something silly back and mentioned the word opossum. And then a few minutes ago he asked me when I was taking off for my non-specific holiday period, which is one of those silly phrases I use sometimes.

I wonder--has My Friend Jeff managed to finally stumble across Possumblog!?

A New One!

I just found out that one of our frequent commentors around here, Miss Diane from up Wisoncis way, has started up her very own blog, which promises to be full of things about quilts and cookies and church and stuff. So, welcome to the blogworld for Diane!

In honor of my blog birthday...

...it's time to play Ask That Guy a Question!

I will answer the first question posed to me in the comments. No guarantee is offered that the answer will be factual. You may proceed.

::ding:: We have a winner! Miss Kathy wants to know, "What was your favorite post?"

I suppose the one that has best stood the test of time is the one I post every Valentine's Day. February 14 was the day I proposed to Miss Reba, and that post is one I have to say is pretty darned good. The most recent posting can be read here.

Second would be the series of entries I wrote before I even had a blog, in the days following September 11, 2001. I'm not sure why I started that, other than to try to grab onto something that would allow me to make some sense of things. I reread it occasionally, and it all seems so very long ago. And like yesterday.

Y'know her, y'love her, y'can't live without her!

It's the return of an old friend of Possumblog, this time with a brand new blog! Now, you might have known her in a previous bloglife as Sugarmama, but she has been rehatched as Megabeth, and her new digs are right here. AND, if you've been hankering for something hot and spicy, rest assured that the Salsa Review is back up and running properly again, too!

Welcome back, ma'am!

UPDATE: She writes to say that "The M with a dot on top is pronounced ememmmmwmwmwwowwuueeeeeu." But of course.

UPDATE II: And for those who like small dogs with bulgy round eyes, it's RUBIES!!

Another sign of old age?

Well, today marks the fourth birthday of Possumblog, four blogyears ago in the blogiverse being the equivalent to sometime after fire was invented, but a bit before the fashioning of metal tools. OH! And we couldn't make fire--we had to carry it around with us when we moved from camp to camp. It was a stressful time--ever try to hunt mastodons with a stick? It's pretty hard. So's coming up with a nice color of paint for the ceiling of the cave that doesn't clash with the drapes. Of course, there were some benefits of living way back then in the Blogolithic era, but mostly it was having to deal with pestilence, famine, saber toothed tigers, and frequent Blogger/Blogspot outages.

Anyway, here I sit now, able to look back and marvel at how far we've come, and able to enjoy the golden age of people--individual people-type persons--sitting at a desk typing on a computer.

One day civilizations will look back at this time and marvel as well, asking, "How did these people ever get anything done at work? Why was no one upset at Glenn Reynolds's hunger for blended puppies? Who would ever read something named after a large, rat-like marsupial? Did Mrs. Sanni Abacha ever get that money transferred?"

And, as I do every day, I ask myself, "Why do I keep doing this?"

I really don't know, other than it gives me something to do to stave off raving lunacy. Or facilitate it. Whatever. I do know that it has been funner than fun can be to meet all of you, whether in person or in pixels, and I appreciate all you folks who've been along for the journey so far. I also appreciate your patience in the lackluster spotty quality you're forced to put up with--I promise the next four years will be the best four more years I have ever had when it comes to coming up with stupid stuff. Unless, you know, it's not. In which case I apologize in advance.

Anyway, to repeat that first statement I started this thing with back on December 20, 2001 at 11:29:35:

"Well, it's finally gotten easy enough, so I herewith launch out into the fetid, overcrowded harbor of blogginess, courtesy of some computerized thingamabobber. You know, when they tapped out the old "what hath God wrought" line on the telegraph, I'm sure they figured this is where it would lead. Serves 'em right."

Heh. Indeed.

A little aardvark...

...a little under the weather.

An interesting post, in which urinary output is compared to what’s in cousin Buford’s spit cup, 10W-40, and furniture polish. Hard to get better entertainment value than that, my friends!

Best wishes for a quick recovery, LittleA.

"A newt!?"

"I got better."

"BURN HER ANYWAY!"

A Yorkie Lady Update...

...with Volvos and rotten fish!

When you can't fly any lower below the radar...

...it's bad for blogging.

It's tough to deal with things like this--you don't really want to say a whole lot to folks in charge or they'll start inspecting you even more closely, and you sure don't want to make anyone mad.

But, where there's a will, there's a workaround. I imagine Nate will find a way, having been around enough bureaucracies to know the double secret handshakes and such like.

It WAS quite interesting!

First of all, a big thank you to the Internet Professionals Society of Alabama for inviting me to participate today, and for feeding me lunch. Big turkey sandwich, with CHEESE and a cookie and fruit salad and a wilted dill pickle spear. (The wilted pickle spear is not a shot at them--just a statement of fact.)

Thankfully for me, there was only ONE person there who could blow my cover--the wife of one of my coworkers. I can't tell you exactly who she's married to, otherwise when she comes to visit (as she promised she would--Hi Lisa!) she might take offense at my characterizations of him as someone less than comfortable with computers. I swore her to secrecy to not tell her husband, either, because then--as we said to each other simultaneously--"He would tell EVERYbody."

I was also gratified to meet frequent commentor Stan the Gummint Man, who came out to hear what there was to hear. Stan looks nothing like I pictured. I sorta had him pegged in the Jim Smith/Nate McCord mold, but he looks much more like automotive writer and raconteur David E. Davis, Jr.

AS FOR THE PANEL ITSELF, it was also good to meet Matt, who looks much younger than I thought, and Dimitri, whom I've never read before and who has an odd accent.

I don't think he's from around here. Maybe from Montgomery or Slapout or someplace.

And then there was Miss Ashley, who is a lawyer and mother of three in real life, and highly distracting in a female sort of way. Although I confess I am being much too familiar, in that we've only just been formally introduced, but I simply must say, "Rrrowll."

Finally, our genial host, Jeremy, who kept things moving right along, and I hope he realized my gruff manner while he was trying to scroll up and down through Possumblog was merely a ruse and a put-on. You did a fine job, and again, many thanks for having me on your panel.

The questions opened up with a quick intro of everyone as we told the stories of our births. I was third in line--

"Okay, time for my Admiral Stockdale moment--'Who am I!? What am I doing here!?'"

::crickets chirping::

Dang--tough crowd.

I went on and on and on and on and on about stupid crap, related my preblog existence, my early Blogspot days, the birth of the Axis of Weevil, my middle Blogspot days, the spin-off of THE PROBOSCIS, the later Munu days, the spin-off of REVOLVOBLOG, and the occasional ghost writing assistance I offer to Luther at the spin-off Cletus' Car Corner, and the fact that I am an idiot.

Everyone seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

The rest of the questions were pretty much as I detailed below, and I have to say I thought the panelists did a pretty fair job of explaining their ideas. Dimitri made what I thought was a good analogy of the current blogworld landscape, noting that it wasn't just a monochrome, level plain of prairie grass, but more like clouds in the sky, with various blog communities sorta clustered around each other based upon interests and likes. I like that image.

About fourty-five minutes into it, Jeremy asked for questions from the audience, and we got a couple, but I had one I wanted to ask--

"How many of you folks have a blog of your own?"

I counted 16 people in the audience--about half raised their hands.

"DERN IT ALL, THEN, WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE UP HERE!?" Really. I mean, my insight is no deeper or better than anyone else's--I say next time, let's just have a round-table with the audience.

Only difficulty of the afternoon was the fact that none of us had a laptop with which we could liveblog ourselves. Jeremy had everyone's sites called up on an overhead and would switch back and forth betwixt us all, but it was a bit hard to be able to explain it all when it's behind your back like that.

Overall, though, it was fun for me, and it's all about me. I even won a door prize! $50 gift certificate, but I felt terrible about winning it when it should have gone to the folks in the audience, so I told them to let the next person have it. Yes, I'm all noble like that.

Anyway, I just hope if you were there, it was helpful to you, and I invite you all to leave a comment or two below about your thoughts, as well as ask you to bookmark Possumblog for a return visit in the future.

Hmm? No, I never get around to making a point about anything.

Okay, here we go.

Be back after while. And is it just me, or isn't there something odd about a group of Internet professionals who want an amateur to come to their soiree?

Anyway, it should be quite interesting.

Wow--talk about questions!

I wondered the other day if I could steal a copy of the questions the blogger panel was going to talk about today, and before I could even find my black ski mask and magical aerosol laser-detection spray, I was sent them--BY THE MODERATOR!

For those of you who won't get to go, and in case I act the way I usually do and not say a word, I figure it won't hurt any to go ahead and post them and give my answers ahead of time.

Hi everyone.

Jeremy Flint here. I will be moderating the panel tomorrow. I know it may be a little late, but I thought I would shoot y'all a list of questions that sort of gives a sample of where we are wanting the discussion to go tomorrow.

I will try to have printouts for you tomorrow if you need it, but in general, just relax and have a good time. Should be lots of fun.

1. Where do you get your material? How do you determine what topic you will blog about?

Well, hello, Jeremy!

I get stuff from everywhere--online news, various information websites, other blogs, life. I blog on what strikes me at the moment--there is no real theme or intent or goal or point to what I do. One minute it might be about monkeys, then next, it might be about foreign policy. The net effect is to bring substantive discussions down to a level of forgettable farce, and to elevate lower primates to a much higher plain than they deserve.

2. Depending on the critic, blogs are the ultimate, savior media outlet or poorly written, inaccurate and unaccountable wannabe media. Can blogs ever be mainstream, legitimate sources, or should that be their goal?

Yeah, well, you know what they say--everyone's a critic.

Blogs are tools, nothing more. They are a means of distributing information.

They are no more or less legitimate than any other source, being that legitimacy is not something conferred by having a big building and an offset press, but rather it is something bestowed by the readership.

The question is not really whether blog writers can ever be mainstream, legitimate sources, but rather can the people who are information professionals (i.e., mainstream paid journalists) ever again be able to hide behind the supposed authority and impartiality of "The Press," when it is so easy now to quickly, accurately, and dispassionately show their biases and ability to misinform, and their ability to manipulate information so it more readily fits with their preconceived notions. The press would do well to welcome readers who pore through their copy and help correct mistakes and factual errors, not to try to shunt them off as hacks and know-nothings.

3. {For the personal/social bloggers} Blogs are sometimes like confessional poetry—a public sharing of private thoughts, feelings and actions. When is something too personal or private to blog? Have you ever regretted a post for this reason?

I will not write about anything I would not be willing to tell my mother. Therefore, I have never regretted a single post.

4. {For Ashley?} Making a living by blogging is an unreachable goal for most of us, but some pocket change would be nice. What are your tips for getting syndicated and building an audience?

Well, obviously I don't fit into this, but I will say if you are going to be a professional writer, you better know how to write like a professional.

5. {For Matt} Lumping in blogs with traditional media, PR practitioners have begun pitching bloggers to cover stories of all types. How do you respond to pitches in your posts?

Again, another one where I will have to sit and just eat my sammich.

6. Blog tools continue to improve and make getting a web log off the ground nearly effortless. What are your favorite tools? What features do you especially appreciate, or hope are incorporated into the next versions?

Well, I will have to say that Blogger is really much better than when I started. I don't like the toolbar at the top, but you can't complain a lot when something's free. For Revolvoblog, it has been just fine, and you can host images on Blogger now when before you had to have an online photo account of some sort, such as Photobucket. I have been well satisfied with the folks at Mu.nu, which somehow manages to provide ad free blogging for a wide range of Munuvians by some sort of Ponzi scheme, I think. Not being all graphicky and all, either one does fine for what I need--I don't really know what I might be missing or wanting.

7. How do you measure traffic to your blog? Do most of your visitors come by way of search engine? RSS feed? Direct link?

I have several ways--Mu.nu blogs come with a wide variety of site stat applications, and I also have a Sitemeter account, and a Gostats hit counter. Why? They're free. Visitors are pretty evenly split between search engines and bookmarks. Only a very few people have syndicated Possumblog, probably out of embarrassment.

And finally,

8. How do you handle comments? Do you moderate them heavily? Let things go in whatever direction they take? Do you allow comments at all?

Well, this was a big concern of mine when I first added them in--before I put HaloScan comments on the older Blogspot site, I had my e-mail address and if anyone wanted to say something, they could just e-mail me. But there seemed to be a desire for being able to make a quick comment or quip that would be more convenient than sending it to me, and comments were the only way to accomodate that. My big fear were comment trolls, having seen so many comment features rendered unreadable due to the crap.

But, luckily, my biggest worry has gone unfulfilled. The real big problem is comment spammers, who should be forced to listen to Kevin Federline's new CD. I have had about two or three trolls over the past few years, and they were deleted as soon as I found them. That's the policy--my blog, my comments--if you can't act right, you won't get to play.

Comments now are as entertaining as the original post, and often will allow a more full explanation of my (or other's) point, or offer corrections and further information that wasn't in the original. I don't really try to make them go one way or another, other than to insist on no potty mouthing and if the point is one about substantive matters that participants be polite and civil and not engage in fallacious reasoning. Having said that, most times the comments devolve into a pie-throwing Marx Brothers movie.

Now then, I guess I CAN just sit there and not say anything!

"It's something called "blog" "spot" or something dot com?"

Oldest came in last night wanting to see the choir's website when I got online to look up something for Rebecca. I figured they must have a page linked off the main high school page, so after supper and the dishes were put away, I went upstairs and fired up the blazing dialup line and went looking.

Well, the high school's site is still under construction. Went to the old site from back when the school was part of the county school system--oddly enough, they still had the page on their server. No choir info, though.

Looks like I'd have to ask. Why the reluctance? She was in rare form last night, and I really didn't want to have to deal with lip nor attitude. But, might as well ask. Probably thinking there might be trouble, Reba went ahead as forward recon. All had quieted down though, and I asked--over the top of Reba's head--what the website address was.

"[redacted] dot blogspot dot com."

Ah. A choir blog.

Now, being all websavvy and all, I knew what she said, but Reba, being less so, wasn't--"What? Log? Blog what? Blogspot? Blogdot spot?"

Oldest--"YA! It's like?, an online journal thing?"

They kept this up for a while--I had already gone back to our bedroom to punch it in, and in a little bit Reba came and told me with great authority, "It's something called '[redacted] dot blogspot(?) dot com'."

'Mm, yeah, I've had it up for several minutes now."

"What is it?"

"Well, it's just a place where the choir director can post notes and quips and thoughts and pictures and stuff."

It was just about that--a few posts, some photos, some words of encouragement...separated not by periods...but by...the constant use of...ellipses...AND LOT'S OF EXCLEMATION POINTS!!!!....and poor apostropheism...and misspelling.

Hey, I realize I have no claim to perfection on stuff like grammar and punctuation, but then again, I don't lay claim to the martyr's mantle of being An Educator. I figure if you're going to put yourself out as Deserving of Society's Fullest Respect, it would help if you could put a bit more effort into your prose. And it might be good not to brag too much about graduating from a certain SEC school.

Anyway, Reba looked at it a bit and said, "Oh."

Yep--palpable disappointment. Now obviously, I wasn't about to take her over here to where disappointment comes in great huge daily chunks--I can stand to hear her dismiss someone ELSE'S magnum opus, but my po' spirit would be crushed like a cigarette butt in the gutter were she to think me no better.

Also, it makes it a lot easier to keep writing this mess as long as she doesn't know about it.

Oldest read a bit, saw what there was to see, and went on off. Eh.

Just out of curiosity, while Reba was still standing there being unimpressed, I clicked on a link from a commentor. I remember back before I started this thing, I had a vague understanding of weblogs, and my impression was that they were mostly the tools of jabbering teenagers to swap maudlin love poetry and stuff. Obviously, there's a much larger world, now, and blogs have increased exponentially in influence and depth.

Still, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy all over to know that my initial stereotype was actually not so far off. I'm not going to give you the link in order to maintain some plausible deniability, but I will give you a snippet of the commentor's blog work:

omg yall!!! today is our last home game!!! im soo sad!!!!!! hehe its gonna rock!! hehe!! but the weenie roast should be fun too!!!! yess!!!!but the only good thing about football season ended is that basketball season is starting! yes!! 2 weeks!!!! im stoked!! totally gonna get a dawgpound** shirt! hehe yes!! im so like ecstatic 4 tonight!! [...]

Thus answering the age-old question, "Is our childrin lerning?"

Anyway, should any of you folks manage to stumble in here by accident, please spit out your gum, sit up straight, and quit passing notes.

As if you needed further proof that I am a moron.

I went and agreed to do this.

No, I have no idea why they want me, other than for someone to point at and mock. And I suppose I should apologize for telling everyone I have more traffic than Glenn Reynolds. I wonder if I could steal a copy of the questions beforehand?

Anyway, they agreed to feed me, so how bad can it be? I ordered the turkey sammich because of the four choices, it was the one that came with cheese.

Hoozier Daddy Update

The Commissar has updated and expanded his original blog lineage post, with a handy chart to see who all's related to whom.

Thanks to Janis, Jim, Dave, and Nate for claiming me, but I sure thought I had more kids than that. In case you want to claim me as your blogdaddy (remember, it's all about ME!), be sure to go to this post and leave a comment, including your blog name, month and year it started, and if you yourself have sprung any blogoffspring.

Now then, time to go eat.

Am I Your Daddy!?

Your blogdaddy, that is. The Commissar over at the Politburo Diktat is running a quiz to see who all is related to whom in the nasty writhing snakepile of the blogosphere, all of which was brought to my attention by Miss Jordana (whom I claim as distant kin).

Miss Janis was kind enough to admit parentage via Possumblog, and I know there are at least one or two others of you who delved into blogging so you could have as much fun as I do. SO, if you would be willing to claim Possumblog as your blogdaddy, trotsky on over to the Commissar's site and leave a comment for him and I assume it'll get updated soon enough, possibly in the next Five Year Plan.

And my blogdaddy? Well, I suppose that would have to be Mr. Lileks. (The backstory of my birth can be found in the dusty old Blogspot archives.) Believe it or not children, I've been around so long that I used to be able to swap e-mails with him on a somewhat regular basis before he got so tremendously famous and I got so tremendously not famous. ::sigh:: Such is life.

Anyway, go see the Commissar, and it wouldn't hurt you to write your blogdaddy every once in a while! And my grass needs cutting! And your brother said you forgot about your sister-in-law's condition and that crack about her fat butt made her cry! And get a haircut! And a job!

There now.

Odd. And ¡Bienvenido!

Before I went to lunch, I noticed a sudden spike in visitors, and so I went over to the referrer logs and found that starting around 10:45 local time, Possumblog began being bombarded by visitors from Mexico, and then from other places in South and Central America. Probably had close to 40 in just over an hour, and they'll still coming by in dribs and drabs.

And I have no idea why. Even more odd is that they were all coming over from the old blogspot blog. Even more strange is that they were only staying for less than a minute.

Is there some Mexican version of Glenn Reynolds out there who linked to something over on the old site to account for this Mexilanche? Did I say something that's making people mad? Happy? Was it that picture of Catherine Zeta Jones I linked to?

Well, I just don't know.

SO, first, let me say hey to all y'all, and second, would someone PLEASE hold on for just a minute or two and let me know what's so interesting? I might want to recycle it here on mu.nu for those slow days.

When in the course of human events...

Uhh, well, some more stuff, and all that, and then it's time to wish someone a happy One Year Blogiversary!

That's right, our very own Skinnydan is having cake with a single candle on it today! Go wish him well!

And I deny all responsibility for anything.

Well, crap.

I came in with a load of work, but thought it might be worth it to see what all's going on out in the ether, and so after answering some e-mails, I clicked over to Instapundit and saw this link.

I've never met Rob, so all I know of him is what he writes about himself. Loud, crude, profane, given to fits of drunkeness and fornication--but a better man than many I've met who would never utter a single "damn" in conversation.

Why?

Well, if I know him like I think I do, it's because I know that if I found myself stranded by the road and he drove by, he'd help me. If I needed money, he'd tell me to get off my butt and work for a living. And then probably hire me to cut his grass or something. If I needed help in a fight, he'd be there. (Now whether he'd be the one to help drag me outside and put me in the car, or the one to call the ambulance, I'm not sure, but I know he'd help somehow.) And despite his predilection for dangling his bait in many ponds, I know that I could leave my wife in his care and not have to worry about what might happen, because he is an honorable fellow. Many things he might be, but a thief (whether of property or flesh) isn't one of them. And I also know he's not a racist--despite how desperately some people hate him for his insistence on judging people on the content of their character, rather than on the color of their skin. And he loves his mama, as any true Southern man does.

I'm not sure what the proper etiquette for such a circumstance would be, not ever having said goodbye to a dying man whom I don't really know as well as I should, given how much I think I know about him. But I do know what we say around here after we've been visiting and it's time to head home.

Y'all come see us.

Every once in a while...

I wonder why I keep writing Possumblog. I mean, it's fun and all, but you know, sometimes fun's just not enough. And then, out of the blue, you get nice letters from people you don't know.

Such as this one, which beside delivering the constant positive reinforcement I so crave, is also darned entertaining to read as well:

Subject: ford focus tumbler problem

Hey Terry,

Thanks for the in depth account of your travails in dealing with this issue. I find that I am both encouraged and worried at the same time. You see, I consider myself a reluctant handyman (handy person). I possess not the greatest level of skill, common sense, or tools to approach any given project. Despite these inadequacies I am pushed forward to attempt certain problems because I don't want to spend the money (not that it's really an option) and because I have this illogical feeling that if I do not at least attempt these things then the very core of my being is in question. Dramatics aside I do have a few questions. Your response will be greatly appreciated and taken with the caveat that no responsibility whatsoever will be directed toward you.

1) Given that there does not seem to be ignition/tumbler assemblies of higher integrity available, the only downside to this solution is the loss of the lock, meaning that the steering column will not lock? But the key sans tumblers works fine with the transponder and turns the switch just fine?

2) Ok, you don't know me or my skills but put into words in a different way the level of difficulty of the procedure.

thanks for any help (and what you've done already)

Bubba Love

This letter was in response to the trouble I was having last year with the ignition lock on Reba's Focus, (detailed in excrutiatingly detailed detail here) but I just have to say that's one of the nicest letters I've gotten in a while. Although I think Bubba Love might just be a pseudonym.

In any event, I replied to Bubba that the job is doable even by a moron like me, and in all is probably only about a forty-five minute job at the outside, and more likely only about thirty. The steering wheel does still "lock" after a fashion, in that there is a locking lug that remains as part of the assembly and still engages the steering wheel. The only way to get the lug to retract is by inserting a key (even though the tumblers aren't there), but it still won't crank unless the exact matching transponder key is used. The only downside is if you live in a locality which has vehicle inspections, and one of the requirements is that you can't operate a vehicle from which the key can be removed while the engine is running.

And yes, a lot of the reason I work on as much of my own stuff myself is partially due to wanting to save money, but also it's the idea that if I think I can do something, and simply refuse to try to fix it myself, it's like I'm just throwing money away.

Anyway, thanks again to Bubba for the nice letter.

There's a terrible joke...

...that I always bring out with various female acquaintances upon their birthdays. "They say you're only as old as you feel--why don't you let me give you a hug and see if I can guess your age!"

It's a terrible joke, I know, and slightly creepy when delivered properly, but no matter--if Miz Yorkieblogger Woman was here I'd be telling it to her anyway.

Happy birthday, ma'am, and happy blogiversary as well!

One for Skinnydan!

Dr. Smith sent me a link to this story, and wondered if our favorite archivist had ever thought about an alternative occupation...

Skinny Firefighter Slithers to the Rescue

Saaaaay--

--lookee who's found a little blogging free time!

HEY! POP THE CORKS!

Dr. Smith is celebrating both a Thirty-one and a Two today!

Being most familiar with the Two, I can say it has been great fun to have gotten to know Jim and he serves as a constant source of both mirth and good advice.

As for the Thirty-one, I hope there will be much sparking, carrying-on, and tickle-n-slapping in the Smith household this evening.

Congratulations all around!

I got yer Moron Project RIGHT HERE, bub!

Okay, well, so, I'm a nidiot, but you should already be used to that. As mentioned below, I have been thinking about starting a blog just to post twaddle about my old car stuff, and since no one jumped up and screamed "NO! DON'T DO IT!" or "LOOK! A BADGER!", I went ahead and started yet another blog to clutter up the ether.

Revolvoblog, it is.

I'm certain it will maintain the high standards to which you have become accustomed herein.

Does the world need another blog?

I don't know. But for some reason I keep thinking that it might be nice to have all my stupid car stuff over in its own little corner of the world. One thing I've noticed is that even with all of the bulletin boards and websites, there aren't any that really suit me and my ever growing list of bookmarks on my browser. It wouldn't be a daily thing like Possumblog is, but it would be a handy place to throw links to suppliers and stuff that are of limited interest here.

Now, I haven't decided for sure whether to do this or not, but if I do, the title might look like this. Or not.

Other titles considered: "Hail, Hail, Moronica!" (Always good to have a Three Stooges reference, you know.)

"The Chronicles of Moronia" (Always good to have a C.S. Lewis reference, you know.)

"Should It Be Making That Noise?"

"Slow, Yet Dull"

"Swedish Girls Think Volvos Are, Like, WAY Cool!"

"It's Not Rust, It's Patina"

"Look, just because Colin Powell collects old Volvos doesn't mean I think his tenure as Secretary of State was one of the high points of American foreign policy. But he does seem like a pretty nice guy, and his wife's a hometown girl. And he collects Volvos." (Always good to have a political reference, you know.)

"Jag Förstår Inte!" ("I do not understand!")

"Possumolvo" (Always good to attempt to draft on the tremendous success of other, more highly evolved and wider-read blogs, you know.)

Anyway, details as they emerge. If they do.

Boy, I tell you what--talk about your disappointments!

Those Adams weren't the LEAST bit creepy or kooky or mysterious or ookie! Well, aside from Justin eating half a dozen raw oysters. Blech. Good thing this is the month of Julry.

ANYway, what a wonderful, sweet, handsome family they are! Justin and Jordana and the kids are just as I expected, and we had a wonderful lunch. I am still in amazement at their Boy, who reads better than I do, and he's not nearly so old as me. Great conversation that covered jobs, and Volvos, and odd place names (they promised me they'd be sure to discover the wonders of Florala), and urban renewal, and kids, and the benefits of having an inside job, and the need to have a nice place in your office to take a nap.

AND THERE WAS GIFTS! These people are way too nice for their own good--for starters, they brought me one of these, which I let Middle Girl hold, because I actually thought it was hers. Only when I tried to leave without it did they insist that it was, in fact, mine. I kinda felt bad taking it, because it was like, well, like taking toys away from kids. But, hey, I do it to mine all the time anyway, so the Adams kids are just going to have to get used to that stuff. It now occupies prime real estate on top of my Wendy Garner coffee mug and to the left of my Hewitt Husky dog.

SECOND, they PAID FOR MY DINNER! Good thing I didn't go the full Mr. Creosote route. I didn't need a bucket or anything. But that was certainly an unexpected and kind gesture.

Over too soon, at least for me. I know they were ready to get back on the road, though, and I did have to get back to work. BUT, apparently they weren't so eager to leave that they couldn't take a moment to record the big event with a couple of commemorative snapshots. I sure hope that my dreadlocks (or mullet, or big, country-singer hair, or whatever else gets Photoshopped in) doesn't overwhelm the image. And poor Justin--he got saddled with taking the photo AND holding Baby, who was quite fascinated by the whole undertaking and kept grabbing the camera strap.

Such a fine bunch of folks.

Well, aside from that raw oyster thing.

Anyway, hope they have a great trip and a safe one, and if any of you are travelling this weekend that you do the same.

And HEY, guess what ELSE!

I get to have lunch with the famed Adams Family! They are going to be in the neighborhood today, and I'm going to meet them over at Landry's Seafood at Wildwood for some vittles!

HOORAY!

CLASH OF THE WORLDS!

YOU'RE KILLING INDEPENDENT TERRY!

Well, it was bound to happen, but my dirty little blogging secret and I have been uncovered by a former co-worker. Tracy and I used to work together at The Bad Place before we both became quitters. And, until she up and got married and moved far, far away, she and My Friend Jeff and I (and a few others) used to get together for lunch with some frequency.

It's been a while since we spoke, because her husband keeps her locked in a windowless cellar, and also because I am too lazy to write an actual letter to anyone, preferring instead to waste all my time blogging. Anyway, it was certainly a surprise when she popped in, although quite a pleasant one, I must say.

As long as she keeps this whole secret double life of mine on the QT, that is.

OH, and don't believe anything she says about me. Unless it's nice.

Actual Good News!

Namely, Citizen Frank's coming home!

If anyone in the Birmingham area can make it to welcome him back at the airport, he will be arriving on Saturday, July 2 on US Airways flight 7584 from O'Hare at around 3:42 p.m. or so. AND, not only that, he and Renee are opening up their home on Sunday for a big welcome home party! Directions and such are here--just be sure to let Miss Renee know you're coming.

It's been a long year for Frank, and if you read back over what he's written, it's been a difficult year. But, as with his fellow soldiers, he has performed his duty admirably and professionally, and deserves a tremendous amount of thanks. Likewise, thanks are to be offered to his wife and children, who've been waiting and worrying for his safety. We ask so much from our military and their families, and it never ceases to amaze me the sense of honor and dedication that they exhibit in even the worst of circumstances.

If you can, I know Frank and his kin would appreciate getting to meet you.

Secret Birmingham "Book Club" Meeting!?

Why, I don't know WHAT you might be talking about!

Look, just because Sugarmama and Skillzy and I are going to be at Safari Cup tomorrow at noon, and just because we're inviting everyone else to come along, doesn't mean it's one of those silly, meet-your-fellow-bloggers/secret book club meetings or anything like that! Nothing like that at all.

The "book club" selection for tomorrow will be the Research Compendium of Multivariant Solutions for Dynamic Grid Loading Alternatives, as edited by Dr. Patek Gee, University of Bangalore, 2001. Alternative selection will be Fluffy, Fluffy Kitties, by Tammy Wintergreen.

Speaking of visitors...

Thanks again to Dr. Reynolds for the traffic yesterday, and to all you new folks who came by. Dave Helton had a big spike in traffic as well, and wondered if Glenn was slumming or something down here around and amongst us microbloganisms, but I told Dave it was probably that Instaman decided to read some quality work rather than the same old crap from that Sullivan guy. (Whose full name I will not, and have not ever, mentioned herein.) But, in any case, whatever the reason, it's nice to see some more folks.

I thought it was a bit odd when I checked the Sitemeter, though, because although there was a noticeable upturn, the total wasn't much higher than some other days this month. Part of the problem was an outage yesterday in Munuville, and then I figured out that the other cause of the less-than-wild numbers were because the Sitemeter is connected only to the main page, not to individual posts. The uptick I saw was from people clicking from the post over to the main page, and when I looked at my OTHER set of stats provided by mu.nu, I saw that the total coming over from the various URLs of Instapundit totalled up to around 3200 or so (that's pageviews--overall hits for yesterday was around 12,000). Now that IS a lot. At least for silly old Possumblog.

BUT, despite my gratitude for everyone coming by, the general interest in the number is really secondary. I'd be just as happy with one as with a million.

[And thus starts a semiregular drift into introspection--bail out if you wish]

I don't sell anything on here, so more traffic doesn't make me money. (Although, heaven knows I need the money.) I'm not trying to make it onto the newspundit circles so I can get a radio gig and hammer Al Franken into a runny fallacious paste. (Although, heaven knows it would make me warm and smiley all over.) It's a hobby--a deeply addictive one, to be sure--but it is nothing more than it is. I like having someone to talk to, and there's not a lot of folks around where I work with whom I share a lot in common. All the folks I could talk to have run away to more hospitable jobs, and so I could sit and be glumly silent, or I could go make some other friends.

Computery-virtual-type friends, yes; but they seem to go well with all the voices in my head and my cast of imaginary friends. It does make me feel good when I'm able to write something other people like, but I don't think to myself, "I'm going to try to write something other people will like." I just write what I want, put it out there, and see what happens.

Some days, not a lot. Some days more than a lot.

I don't get depressed when no one reads, and although it is vastly satisfying when someone does, and responds. But, it's not something I crave so much that I would dump money into doing this hobby the way I might with, oh, say, a twenty year old Volvo.

The thing I like best about this? I like it when someone comes by, and likes what they read, and thinks to themselves, "you know what, I can do that, too." And they start their own blogs, and get their own readers, and manage to influence the shape of their days, and give them some life and humor and information. That first time you ever read a comment or an email that says, "I read your blog every morning," well, it's neat, and I'm glad I've been able to inspire others to say what's on their minds by what I say on here.

The second thing I like best about this? For close to four years now, I have managed to do this with only the smallest amount of trolls coming by to make trouble. I never have understood that mindset of trying to run around all over the Internet to set people straight, or worse, to just be inflammatory for the sake of being inflammatory. Haven't folks got anything better to do? Well, obviously some don't, but I'm thankful only a handful have found their way here. I don't mind folks who disagree, but I've always believed you can disagree all day long and still be friendly and respectful about it.

The third thing I like best about this? The decision to add comments, back when I was on Blogspot. I was VERY leery about doing that, because it does require monitoring for spam and trolls and potential misunderstandings to be smoothed over, and all that does take away from writing time. But, as I think most regular commentors will agree, the comments are usually MUCH more fun than the original post. That may be because I don't see them as a way for people to use just to offer affirmation or denial of the point of the post, but as a continuation and expansion of the original post. So be sure and read the comments, or you might miss something. Oh, and I still like getting e-mail, too.

Anyway, that's enough soulful introspection for the morning. My head's gonna start hurting in a minute.

There is good to be done.

In case you haven't heard, there is a young lady named Jett who came out on the bad end of a meeting with a tractor, and she needs some words of encouragement (to say the least), and if you are able, some financial assistance. Skillzy is handling the collection, and no matter what you can send, I'm sure that it will be greatly appreciated.

"...so it's root, root, root for the home blog..."

On the evening last, as I sat hunched over my keyboard looking for pictures of Raquel Welch that would be appropriate in a middle school class project, I noted that I had received an electronic mail message. Since it was well past quitting time and Chet the E-Mail Boy had long since gone to his place of slumber at the Slag Ditch Elder Villas Phase I, I almost thought about waiting until this morning before retrieving it. I do so like it when Chet handles all of that sort of thing, and it does give him something to do other than bother me with tales of that totsy in Belgium in 1918.

SO, throwing caution to the wind, I clicked on the missive to see that it had come from someone named William Carroll, who said simply--

One of these days, if you need a baseball writer who grew up in Alabama, I hope the Weevils will axis me.

What a pitiable cry for help. Poor, poor, deluded man.

BUT, knowing how hard it is to dissuade persons from something once they have their minds made up, I wrote Mr. Carroll back and sent along the bundle of information for admission to the Alabama Disc Harrow Fanciers Society.

IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I came into the luxuriously appointed halls of the Axis of Weevil World Headquarters building this morning and saw that his reply was waiting on me! Not only that, someone left the screen door standing open last night, and there is a rat snake in the building somewhere. If you left the door open, this is your fault and I expect you to find the snake and get it out of here. Also, whoever is storing the set of old tires in the coat closet needs to get them out.

ANYWAY, on to William's qualifications for entry--

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

Jeez, I might not admit Hueytown, but I'll certainly credit Alabama.

2) Not ashamed to admit to #1

See above. That's up.

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

If I can talk to Paul Finebaum for ten minutes without raising my voice, I can pretend anything.

Holy moley. Man must be some kind of ROBOT or something! Onward:

4) Functionally literate

Houston, we have a problem.

I think Whitney Houston has enough problems without having to deal with adult illiteracy. Lord knows I've asked her for help myself enough times.

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

I can't hunt and peck in ALL CAPS.

Maybe a hunting cap would help.

6) Update your blog more than once a month

That I do. Whether it's a worthwhile update is a whole other story.

Worthwhile, shmerthwhile. If we start bringing quality into this, we'll shut down the whole Internet.

7) Willing to be made fun of

Didn't I mention Hueytown?

Indeed so. But that doesn't automatically make you the butt of humor. Those stolen "Allison-Bonnett Memorial Parkway" street signs all over your living room, however...

8) Willing to make fun of yourself

But of course.

9) Have a framed picture of John Moses Browning

Engraved into my P-35.

A man after my own heart. I would normally just go ahead and not even worry about any of the other questions, but I suppose I have to, in order to have some semblance of fairness.

I'm very upstanding that way, you know.

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

Both of them.

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

Now, I'm not so sure about Andy Griffith. I keep thinking of the one where Don Knotts does something dumb and Aunt Bea makes a pie. I did interview Gomer Pyle last year at the Indy 500. He wouldn't say "surprise surprise surprise" and seemed a bit annoyed at the question.

Man, he just keeps piling on the good stuff! Anyone who's ever made Jim Nabors mad just HAS to be a member! Might as well make him the president! Except, you know, it would still be a sort of puppet position, because my dream of world domination is still on go. Anyway...

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

Ma! Get the truck off them blocks before the Weevils check!

As long as it runs. Being on blocks doesn't mean it won't work, you know.

ANYWAY, after carefully reviewing the foregoing application, and consulting with Screaming Guy in the Park, I can see NO REASON why Mr. William Carroll, columnist for the fine publication Baseball Prospectus,and co-writer of The Juice Blog, AND author of The Juice: The Real Story of Baseball's Drug Problems, as well as Saving the Pitcher, should be denied ANY LONGER the misery and heartache that can only come from being a member of the Cotton States Quilting and Field Artillery Guild, know to many as the Axis of Weevil!

SO THEN, by the power vested in my by Cindy, who runs the batting cages at Funtown, and who has incredible upper body development due to years of fast pitch softball, which is somewhat similar to baseball, except it has girls in shorts and sleeveless tops, which is better, at least to my way of thinking, even if they do get sort of grimy and sweaty, which is really rather alluring in its own way, I suppose...oh, sorry. Rambling, aren't I? SO, I HEREBY PROCLAIM Will Carroll to be a full and complete member of the Axis of Weevil, with all of the duties and responsibilities falling thereto.

All of you are encouraged to go visit Will and say hello.

AS YOU ALL KNOW, every new member receives his very own World Famous Axis of Weevil Gift Basket, containing containing a rack of Dreamland ribs, a gallon jug of Milo’s sweet tea; a G-Lox Wedgee gun rack from Mark’s Outdoor Sports for his pickup, a package of Bubba’s Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County); a three piece, 24 ounce box of Priester’s Pecan Logs; a box of Jim Dandy grits; a 16 ounce bottle of Dale’s Steak Sauce; AND a six pack of Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale!

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! Jimmy from next door, who has a condition, is so excited by the presence of a real baseball writer within the building that he has been inspired to create an entirely new genre of baseball-themed artwork. As you all remember, Jimmy uses arts and crafts as therapy for his condition, which he says has taken a turn for the worse lately, although I think this might have to do with the copy of Baseball Hotties that his aunt caught him with in the garage last month. In any event, Jimmy has decided to paint a life-size portrait of Will, entirely in tobacco juice!

Since Jimmy's aunt does not allow tobacco products to be used in her house, Jimmy would like to ask everyone to please save your spit cups for him.

SO, welcome to William, and make yourself at home!

(By the way, everyone wants to know if you will coach the company softball team, and if you can get us some jerseys other than the ones we have that were donated by the VFW. They all smell like Old Spice and phlegm. The jerseys, that is. Well, okay, the guys from the VFW post, too.)

My first real literary submission.

Many thanks to Miss Janis for providing such rich fodder for ridicule with her tales of the condo board, and for inspiring me with her Fabioescapades to submit the sentence (I made it one sentence by replacing the period after the first sentence with a comma) from yesterday for inclusion in the prestigious Bulwer-Lytton contest. I sent in my opus magnum last evening, and received a very kind e-mail back from the sponsors, reading (in totality):

Your submissions have arrived and will receive the treatment that they deserve.

I am overcome with ennui.

Trolling

What is the thrill, exactly?

Dropped by to check the Haloscan comments, as I do occasionally to see if I've missed anything, and sure enough, some odd person took it upon him or herself to show me their exact level of illiteracy in a running series of comments on a set of posts a year old. Why? What purpose does it serve?

I realize that for children (or young adults who have moved out on their own to their mom's basement) there probably is some sort of thrill about spewing anonymous gibberish, but I promise you, there really are better things to do with your time. Maybe take a walk. Ride your bike. Ask your teacher if you can help her clean the classroom.

Just remember, no one will ever take you seriously if you type in all caps, if you are unable to spell, if you have the reading comprehension of a banana, and if you are unwilling to engage in a conversation without hiding. Such naughtiness gets you banned from commenting, and gets your silly yammering deleted.

A Clarification.

From Fritz Schranck, who is a Democrat, but certainly not THAT Democrat.

How very odd--

It seems that when you tell people you won't be posting anything, the daily hit count drops down to near nothing.

Except for the random people who find their way to Possumblog by searching for such things as homunculi "today Show".

Remember, just because they're tiny on your TV, doesn't mean they are in real life.

NOW THEN, I am going to walk over to A-1 Print and Copy and have Reba's paper bound. (I shudder to think what sorts of people are going to find their way here because of Google's misunderstanding about the whole concept of binding paper, rather than, well...other things.)

Going South...

No, not Miss Janis.

I'm talking about long-time reader, commentor, wooden boat owner, and Official Possumblog Gopher State (for now) Reporter Toni Albani. Toni dropped by the comments section over the weekend to say hey and all, and I noticed that the woman had done gone and started her own blog--BACK IN SEPTEMBER!

Of course, I felt bad for not having known about it until now, and as usual, to hide my culpability in not keeping up with people better, I must blame Chet the E-Mail Boy, the old fool. SO, I have taken the liberty of adding Toni up in the blogroll, and intend to claim her as a blogchild whether she likes it or not.

AND IN EVEN BETTER NEWS--

I note with pleasure that Toni will be leaving the wintry cold climes of Lilekslandia with her belongings and resident spreadsheet expert, and heading for the soft warm embrace of the Deep South. Well, Tennessee, which is pretty close. And you don't have to explain what sweet tea is.

So, welcome to the South, ma'am, and we look forward to your despatches from the Volunteer State!