insert witty title here

The last time I was in Europe was in July 1999, when I flew to Germany and spent ten days exploring. I based myself out of Munich and stayed with an acquaintance of mine who was studying at the Univserity there.

I rented a Suzuki TL1000R crotch rocket and toured through the German and Austrian alps for a week. Between the twisty hairpin curves in the mountains and those smooth, wide, unrestricted German highways I have to admit that the Germans build good roads. As far as the whole no-speed-limit-on-the-autobahn thing goes, I only took the bike up to 194 kph (about 120 mph) but then, I did have a passenger on the back that particular day...

Once I purged the adrenaline from my system, I rented a more sedate vehicle and drove up to Holland, through France, Luxembourg and Belgium.

All in all it was a very nice trip. I like thinking about it when the weather here closes in and life begins to resemble an assembly line.

I've added another recently discovered blog to my recommended reading list. While the title of this one may make some uncomfortable, I find the blog itself to be well written and insightful so I hope that you give it due consideration.

In other news...


...well frankly there is no other news.

I saw 'Master and Commander" last night - it's the new Russell Crowe movie in which Mr. Crowe does a lot of heroic gazing off into the distance. There are enough snide reviews out there without adding mine to the pile but I was pretty disappointed in the movie. Then again, in the pitched battle t'wixt man and sea, I was rooting for the South Atlantic.

The movie made much of the glories of the British Navy, forgetting to point out that virtually all of the sailors would have been impressed into service, with little chance of ever seeing family again. History buffs might recall this famous quote attributed to Sir Winston Churchill: "Don't talk to me about naval tradition. It's nothing but rum, sodomy and the lash."

Whether he actually said it or not, it's probably pretty accurate.

Have you heard about this?

If not, why do you think that is?

Why do the deaths of ten North Americans rate massive CNN and CBC news coverage but the deaths of one hundred and sixty Africans does not?

For the longest time I thought that it was a racial thing... that North American news focused on events that affected white people with the implication that all other races were just statistics. But I've come to believe that it's not a racial issue.

I think it has more to do with cultural elitism.

It doesn't matter if you are black, white, asian or martian in heritage: if you were born in North America, chances are that you really don't feel any visceral empathy over what is happening to people living in a different culture.

To some degree we all relate to the events that affect Europeans because we can see enough similarities between their culture(s) and ours. It's far more difficult to identify with Senegalese or Afghanis or Laotians so we just tune them out.


Listen: In sub-Saharan Africa overall, an estimated 26.6 million people are living with HIV

That's the combined population of

New York City
Los Angeles
Chicago
Ottawa
Vancouver (BC)
Houston
Indianapolis
San Francisco
Jacksonville
Memphis
Winnipeg
Boston
Washington, DC
Omaha
Halifax
Cincinnati
Windsor
Regina
Providence
Kelowna
Brownsville
Thunder Bay

and Pueblo


Imagine those places as ghost towns. Utterly empty of people. Every free piece of land turned into a mass graveyard. What if no one in Africa or the Middle East or Asia really cared...because those places are only statistics.

Here's wishing a Happy Thanksgiving Day to everyone south of the 49th parallell and west of the Yukon.

In the spirit of things, I offer two versions of the story of Squanto, the fellow attributed with helping create the ceremony known as Thanksgiving.

Version One

Version Two

Here in Canada, Thanksgiving occurs in October. To be honest I was never sure why Canada even recognized Thanksgiving Day until I looked it up here. Canadian history doesn't have the same ties to Plymouth Rock or the pilgrims but it turns out we've been expressing gratitude since 1799...

Today is just going to be a collection of stuff. I'll post as it enters my brain.

1. This is just nasty.

Whoever came up with the idea should hang their head in shame.

**************

2. I see that the Klan is up to their usual wacky hijinks. It would be funny if it wasn't so frigging pathetic that they haven't been outlawed as an organization yet.

** late-breaking update**

I had to delete my linked photo of the klu klux kretin because the Johnson City Press changed their headline and photo.

I woke up to find an inch of snow on the ground this morning. It had already been snowing at the higher elevations for some time but this is the first we're getting this close to sea level. I've been procrastinating on switching to my winter wheels and tires as I'm planning a short trip south in a few weeks, however; I think I'm going to have to just get the switch over and done with. It's probably a good thing because procrastination doesn't come naturally to me anyway. I can always switch 'em back for the trip.

I have a love-hate relationship with winter. I love standing outside in a snowy field on a clear winter's night and looking up at the universe overhead. There's something about sub-zero temperatures that makes the air so much clearer. I love snowstorms and blizzards and not just from the inside looking out, I like being all bundled up and getting out into them as well.

The hate side (although hate is really too strong a word) comes from the four years of winter warfare training I had during my stint in the infantry. It's all well and good to stand in a field and gaze at the heavens above but only (a) if you're doing it by choice (b) you haven't been up for 48 hours and (c) it isn't -60 (celcius) with an evil wind blowing off Hudson Bay. I recall one particular week-long training exercise in northern Ontario where 80 out of 120 men were medivacked due to frostbite. With the wind chill, the temperature had plunged to -87.

The cold was intense and, yes, we were in tents.

Brrrr...

I didn't come into work once this weekend and it felt pretty darn good. Saturday I was in downtown Vancouver doing some Christmas shopping. Sunday I took two of the kids out to breakfast and then cleaned the house. Hardly an exciting weekend but at least I wasn't here.

******

I highly recommend that you read his book, "Shake Hands With the Devil – The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda".

******

If you are are concerned about your boss catching you blogging at work you might want to check out the solution that this website offers.

And once again a mighty blow against the forces of truth and historical fact was struck when the Reverend Ted Haggard, president of the National Association of Evangelicals, was heard to say:

"The Christian God encourages freedom, love, forgiveness, prosperity and health. The Muslim god appears to value the opposite. The personalities of each god are evident in the cultures, civilizations and dispositions of the peoples that serve them. Muhammad's central message was submission; Jesus' central message was love. They seem to be very different personalities."

Yeah okay…tell it to the Hebrews...

or forget religion and just tell it to women...even just American women...


Now from that you might think I have something against Christians. I don’t.

I'll repeat that for those in the back: I don't.

I do however have something against individuals who combine an ignorance of their own religion’s history with the arrogance of presuming to know God.

Reverend Haggard should reacquaint himself with Matthew 7:1 and John 8:7

Over the past few months I've realized and come to terms with the fact that happiness isn't an emotion that I'm ever going to experience in any sort of sustained way. What I mean by that is a happiness that extends beyond a momentary pleasure.

What I am capable of is being at peace. Call it contentedness if you prefer but what I am referring to is that feeling of equilibrium wherein you don't feel you are in koyaanisqatsi* but instead feel that you are at ease with the world.

It is a difficult state to maintain while actively participating in life's challenges and I can see why monks prefer seclusion on remote mountaintops to sustain it. When I let the stresses of life get to me and frustration or anxiety wends its way into my consciousness, I lose that balance. That in turn just ends up further eroding my peace of mind because I realize what a valuable thing it is I've lost.

To recover it usually takes a day or so and invariably requires me to be alone for a while, doing something that doesn't make a lot of demands on my consciousness...so my subconscious has some time to sort itself out.

In spite of those lapses, I work very hard to sustain that peace of mind and in doing so I come as close to happiness as I probably ever will.






* ko-yaa-nis-qa-tsi (from the Hopi Indian language) n. 1. crazy life. 2. life in turmoil. 3. life out of balance. 4. life disintegrating. 5. a state of life that calls for another way of living.

I have mixed feelings about political and social reform protest movements in North America.

On one hand I recognize that critics of the system perform a valuable role combating the sort of social complacency that we, as a herd, tend to gravitate towards. On the other hand:

This is Canadian poverty

This is Indian poverty

This is a Canadian child from a low-income family

This is an African child from a low-income family

so I cannot help but feel that in many respects the hue and cry over North American social causes is comparable to spoiled teens complaining about how tough they have it living at home because they have to share the television with mom and dad.

The same goes for political protests. Here in Canada a person has the freedom to speak their mind on any issue and the right to peaceful assembly. Try that in other countries and you'll end up in a police station basement having a close encounter with a cattle prod. I think that North Americans exhibit a certain egocentricity when they take advantage of the freedoms that they have, to complain about how totalitarian they think their government is.

This is a totalitarian government. I can unequivocally state that if such a regime existed in Canada, I would not hesitate to take up arms in rebellion.

But it doesn't exist here, and to pretend that it does only insults those who suffer and die under those truly despotic thumbs.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I think political and social protest is a valuable thing for western society...but we need to keep our issues in perspective.

Okay no more deep thoughts (well, deep for me anyway).

The following is from Chuck Shepherd's News of the Weird website:

"James Howle, 61, and Kevin Williams, 41, stabbed each other in Pomona, Calif., in October in an argument over which of their two unidentified alcoholic beverages tastes better. [KNBC- TV (Los Angeles), 10-21-03]"


and from Expatica dot com we find out that contrary to that poor guy in my Monday post, the dead can be popular.

that's it for my Dave Barry impersonation...

Lately there have been a few folks coming up to me at the gym and asking for exercise advice. In one respect it's flattering because there's the implication that I'm doing something right; but, on the other hand I look forward to my workouts because it's one of my few refuges from dealing with people on a daily basis.

In the end I suppose that being helpful is the right thing to do. Although I'd probably be more enthusiastic about it if the people doing the asking were nubile young women rather than men my age.

I'm feeling curmudgeonly.

It's been another day with my good friend Mr. Hamaguchi. Those of you familiar with my last adventures with Mr. Hamaguchi won't have to think too hard to figure out which of the two of us posed this question as we drove by a housing subdivision:

"why are there houses here?"



In other news, this is what happens when people confuse cartoons with reality. If I recall, there were a lot of dalmations that ended up being euthanized after 1996 as well.

Just enjoy the movie, don't try to live it.

"Do not believe that possibly you can escape the reward of your action."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson


On the subject of the death penalty, a blogger friend of mine feels that it's not for her to decide who lives or dies. It's one of the few areas where I have to disagree with her.

In western society, modern law isn't created out of thin air. It's created by the demands and expectations of the population, who send the message to their elected leaders who in turn draft the legislation. Laws adapt all the time in response to changing social values and public pressure.

While I admit that it eases the individual conscious to disassociate from the consequences of strong laws (such as the death penalty), I do not think that it's a behaviour we should be exhibiting. I think that we have a moral obligation to recognize our role in the establishment and maintenance of modern law and to accept the responsibility that comes with it.

To use an awkward analogy, would you choose to never discipline your child because you don't want them angry at you? I guess there are many people who do just that however I view that as moral cowardice. To place your short-term need for acceptance or emotional comfortableness over your child's long-term need for firm boundaries with which to guide his or her future is parental negligence of the worst sort.

No matter whether it's on the individual or the societal level, being responsible means that sometimes you have to do the difficult or distasteful thing. So in response to my friend, I say it is up to us to decide and we have, through the establishment of legislation.

Like it or not, we are all responsible for playing a part in what the rules are.

I don't touch on politics very often because I don't like to foster the implication that politicians deserve any credibility, but in this case I want to say that I'm pleased to note that Canada has finally gotten rid of its handsome devil of a Prime Minister and set the stage for a new election.

Mr. Chretien spent virtually his entire life in political office and has, for me, come to epitomize everything that's wrong with the Federal Goverment.

Rather than go into details on his spending abuses, patronage appointments, cronyism, willful blindness and outright lies, I think that this particular news story completely captures his arrogance.

I find that my inspiration for blog topics only comes when I'm incapable to doing anything about it. Then, when I sit down at the computer to write, my mind is blank. It's frustrating because I remember thinking "hey, this is a great blog topic!" but for the life of me, I can no longer remember what the heck it was.

So instead I make up some lame post about how frustrating it is to forget what you wanted to blog about.

It's another quiet Saturday and frankly I don't mind that one bit. I've rented a gaggle of movies (6 for $6.00) and intend to spend the rest of the day not thinking. I arrived at the video store late last night so pickin's were slim but this is what I managed to find:

Hollywood Ending: I hadn't seen it yet but I like Woody Allen.

Airplane!: "I am serious, and don't call me Shirley."

Boogie Nights: Marky Mark as Dirk Diggler

Ballistic: Ecks vs Sever: Is there anything sexier than Lucy Liu well armed and kicking butt?

Romeo & Juliet: I've seen little bits and pieces not not the whole thing in its entirety.

A Star is Born: I remember my mother getting her hair permed to look like Babs' when this came out in 1976. Curious to see what all the fuss was about.

I call the video store near my place "Teenybopper Video" because the owner is this greasy looking fellow who only hires teenaged girls to work the counter.

Truth Laid Bear has me ranked as a 'wiggly worm' in his blogosphere ecosystem. I suppose it's better than being one of his insignificant microbes but it still leaves the question of how I ended up there in the first place unanswered...


There's a grim sort of irony in hanging yourself as a cry for attention and having this happen...

Unfortunately it's turning out to be another of those annoying days, starting with the complaint from some twit that fully-laden logging trucks didn't move out of his way when he was out for a drive (in his SUV) on a logging road.

I know that things like this are just part of the job and, for the most part, I think I manage to laugh it off and not let the aggravation factor get to me. There are times however, when I feel that the only thing that will flush this nonsense out and re-introduce a general philosophy of personal responsibility back into the collective human gene pool is a massive, global enema.

It probably stems from my spending most of yesterday with lawyers. We're being sued by a woman who claims that because:

she drove fifteen kilometres up a busy logging road
she drove another three and a half kilometres up a deactivated logging road
she crashed her truck into a ditch
she drove all the way down and back into town without any assistance
she didn't report it to the police
she didn't contact our company
she went see her doctor a full week later

We're liable for her

"fractured spine"
"headaches"
"incontinence"
"loss of dignity"
"loss of sleep"
and "loss of income"

Regarding the 'loss of income' claim...on her deposition her employment is listed as: retired

I know that this is a consistent theme of mine and that I'm probably preaching to the choir but I absolutely cannot understand why so many people are convinced that it's acceptable to go through life insisting that someone or something else is alway to blame for their situation.

I guess it's the hypocrisy of it that I find so discouraging. I highly doubt that these people who are so quick to absolve themselves of responsibility for their own bad fortune are equally quick to recognize and reward others for whatever good things happen to them in life.

Speaking of acknowledging benefits from others, a hearty thanks goes to Cacciaguida for the recent boost in my blog readers!

More so-called humor (original this time)


A Study of Managers in their Natural Habitat

Background

Managers (Bureaucratis Annoyus) are an extremely common life form in North America and can be found from Southern Mexico to as far North as Tuktoyuktuk, Northwest Territory in Canada. South of Mexico this species becomes much rarer as it cannot compete with the much more aggressive species, Militaris Corruptus.


Description

As a general rule, Male Managers usually exhibit distinctive physical characteristics such as thinning hair, protuberant bellies, bandy legs and an inability to look the people they are addressing directly in the eye.

Female Managers can be identified by their short hair, thin lips and atrophied sense of humor.

Both genders have only vestigal social skills and are known to give abrasive emotional responses when they feel they are being confronted.


Habitat

Managers prefer to remain secluded in a small, enclosed area and will often try to keep a large piece of furniture (such as a desk or podium) between themselves and their subordinates. When they do venture out of their nest, they can usually be found carrying a large cup of coffee.

As mentioned before, Managers are not social creatures and their attempts to interact with others often result in either awkward silences or forced smiles.

In spite of this, Managers do like to group together periodically and you will sometimes see them clustered around a large table nodding their heads or applauding each other's statements. This clustering behaviour is rarely demonstrated in open areas where there is the possibility that they can be disturbed by non-Managers. Most times they will only cluster in a larger version of their nest however at rare times they will all migrate to a "retreat" to "focus their energies on enhancing corporate teamwork".


Encountering Managers

There are a couple of simple things to bear in mind should you encounter a Manager:

Firstly, always remember that a Manager is usually very insecure and can feel threatened at the slightest hint that their authority is being challenged. To avoid the defensive posturing Managers will resort to, the best approach is to enthusiastically agree with whatever the Manager is saying. This is easiest way to mollify them so that they will leave of their own accord.

Secondly, you should know that Managers are not a contemplative species and they do not have long attention spans. If you must approach a Manager, prepare yourself in advance by constructing lots of brightly-coloured charts and powerpoint graphics to keep them entertained.

Happy birthday #13 Son

and lest we forget...

It's Remembrance Day as well.

This was sitting in one of the office printers. I have a few more years before it applies to me but it certainly speaks to my views on the subject:

A Father's Rules For Dating His Daughter

Rule One. If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two. You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off my daughter's body I will remove them.

Rule Three. I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four. I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five. In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early".

Rule Six. I have no doubt that you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven. As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can tale longer than painting the Golden Gate bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight. The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns with eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided: movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine. Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

My daughter decided to join me yesterday on my work outing. In her own words: "I'll always want to go with you Daddy". What father in the world doesn't live to hear that from their child?

Now it's time to go buy groceries and then pick up a birthday present for my eldest boy. He's finally entering (cue dramatic music)...the teen years.

When I was his age (or thereabouts) there was a television program called "James at Fifteen", about a young teen who had recently been relocated (along with his family) to Boston. I think we're going back to 1977 here so my recollection may be a little fuzzy. It was (to the mind of Christopher at Fourteen) a great series because it was the first time that there had ever been a (relatively) realistic program about what it was like to be an adolescent boy. The following year it was called "James at Sixteen" and shortly after that I think it was cancelled.

Where was I going with this? Right, just that it would be nice to have that sort of program running again. Right now adolescent girls have the excellent cartoon series called Braceface. Bearing in mind that it is a cartoon, it still touches on a lot of real issues that are important to girls that age.

Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrows)
©John Prine


My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley
On a cold winter's morning to a church house
just to shovel some snow.

I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin' nuder,
An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter
just from walking with his back turned
to the train that was coming so slow.

You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"
but it don't do no good to get angry,
so help me I know

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
wrapped up in a trap of your very own
chain of sorrow.

I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there.
I sat on a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair
and my head shouted down to my heart
"You better look out below!"

Hey, it ain't such a long drop don't stammer don't stutter
from the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter
and you carry those bruises
to remind you wherever you go.

You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"
but it don't do no good to get angry,
so help me I know

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
wrapped up in a trap of your very own
chain of sorrow.

Today's blog entry consists of two random tidbits.

It's Friday and once again I'll be working tomorrow. It's a good thing I have no social life or I'd really be inconvenienced. Sometimes, if they're interested, I bring one or more of the kids along to these sorts of job sites. When she was five I asked my daughter what she thought my work was and she said: "you talk on the phone, play on the computer and bring money home". My older son piped up: "and he tells everyone what to do, just like at home".


Here is a good movie-related website for anyone who finds the science in some films a little hard to take. If you scroll to the bottom on the page you'll find all sorts of movie reviews - most of which are pretty funny (well funny to me anyway).

There comes a time in every adult's life when they are faced with the choice of either reconciling the issues of their childhood or carrying them around as first class baggage.

In my late teens I elected to just let those issues go. It's not my nature to assign blame to every possible outside influence for my current position in life. I had older relatives who were still railing (and wailing) against the injustices of their youth and I didn't want to end up like that. Few things irritate me more than people who refuse to accept responsibility for where they are in life.

There's a difference between acknowledging a difficult situation and coming to terms with it and clinging to difficult situations because you think they're a good excuse for why you are where you are. I think we all know people who live that way: It's Dad's fault I can't love. It's Mom's fault I'm too loving. My life would be so much better if only this, that or the other thing had or hadn't happened to me.

People like that baffle me. What is the point of playing that sort of lifelong game with yourself? Are you really happier griping about how hard done by you are than you would be if you just stopped whining and took charge of making your situation better?

Studies show that the people who survive disasters are the ones who don't sit around expecting someone else to look after them. They accept their situation and deal with it because every other option results in death. The people sitting around whimpering are not only putting their own lives in jeopardy, but the lives of everyone else as well. Instead of focusing on adapting to the situation they selfishly focus on their own perceived misery, usually expecting everyone else to spare the time to pat their hand and comfort them in the process.

Admittedly it's a dramatic example but the same mindset can be seen in everyday life. The self-absorbed slink through life like emotional vampires, demanding that the world stop and accommodate them. They are incapable or uninterested in seeing that no matter what crappy experience they went through, it's probably no worse than what everyone else has gone through in life.

There's a difference between empathy and sympathy. I've been told that I'm naturally empathetic but that sympathy is something I don't offer as freely. I think that's a pretty fair observation. I have had enough diverse experiences in life to know what most types of emotional pain feels like. I offer sympathy to anyone who needs it but the extent of my sympathy is determined by how intent you are on milking me for emotional support. I'll lovingly and willingly help you but that help is conditional on the seriousness with which you are helping yourself.

I think anything less is a disservice to both the helper and the helpee.

I like milk.

I've been drinking the stuff since Day One and I like it as much now as I did when it was the sum total of all my worldly knowledge.

Being a guy, there's a social expectation that my beverage of choice will be beer. When the subject comes up (albeit infrequently) I find people actually seem surprised and even a bit uncomfortable that I prefer a big ol' glass of milk with my pizza or 'burger. Waitresses in restaurants give me the "awww, that's so cute" look when I order it up.

Not that I'm a teetotaller, I do enjoy the occasional beer but it's not the sort of thing I would choose to do if I were alone...for me beer is purely a social beverage. I went through the 'experimentation' phase of drinking when I was in the military. The experiments usually involved seeing how much beer I could drink without waking up in the morning with a hangover. It was a phase I passed through pretty quickly and since then I've been pretty ambivalent about alcohol. I couldn't imagine myself in an emotional state where I actually desired the stuff.

I drink about a litre and bit of milk every day, which is probably more than the national average for forty-year-old men. Part of the reason is that I crave it more when I regularly exercise. When I get home from the gym and have some I can feel it's chilly goodness spreading out into all my tired little bones and muscles.

One thing I've never been able to understand is why women don't like milk. Judging from my daughter's reaction to the stuff, it seems to be an automatic, gender-specific reaction. Of all the women I've known I'd say that only three or four would choose to drink a glass of milk. Anyone care to fill in the blank on that mystery of life?

The only downside of my preference for milk are these new udders sprouting from my abdomen.





just kidding, but I do like milk.

I received a spam from "Fisting Party" inviting me to "get this party started". Now I've got that song by Pink in my head and the combined mental picture keeps making me laugh out loud here at work.

You have to wonder about spam writers...do they get paid by commission for every return hit their spam ad gets? Can you imagine the pressure they're under if that's the case?

At the top of the spam food chain are the professionals who use topic headers like "I saw you at the mall last weekend". A guy has to be pretty asexual to not hesitate for an instant and wonder before deleting it without opening it. After all, no matter how lumpy or dumpy we are, guys all want women to desire us. These big fish know that sometimes subtle works.

Then there are the mid-spammers. They use provocative headers such as "Amish farm hotties!" or "Enlarge your prostate NOW!!!" Mid-spammers like lots of exclamation points to get your attention and often have the funniest topic headers. The Viagra people all use mid-spammers.

The bottom feeders are just ridiculous: How they hope to garner my attention with "Christopher asdfvx!" or "I'm here qrxutbg" is beyond me. I'd have to be some kind of certifiable twit to be genuinely curious about what "I'm here qrxutbg" means. If only one type of spam could be banned, it should be the bottom feeders.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on spam.

more lazy links. shame on me.

You need pretty good self-esteem to be seen drinking this juice in public. Someone really ought to speak to their sales department about the hazards of using homophones when marketing a product.


Another example of why we should let the principle of natural selection have its way...

Bobby Womack once sang that "you shouldn't talk just to be talkin'" and I tend to agree with him.

So here I am, not feeling particularly inspired to say anything so I'll just wish everyone a pleasant Sunday.

I took my daughter trick or treating last night. She dressed up as a Diva Star including ::shudder:: makeup. But since the temperature was hovering around the freezing level, with her big red coat, her mitts and her thick socks & shoes, her costume was pretty much that of a little girl dressed for winter.

I wasn't too impressed with the whole makeup thing but kept silent because:

a) it's hallowe'en and,
b) I need the practice keeping silent on things like that.

In other family news, my ex has turned a page in life and has a "close male friend". It's an unusual feeling. I'm really glad for her because she deserves some happiness and companionship. On the other hand, it pretty much hammers the final nail in the dissolution of our marriage - not that it was any differrent a day earlier - but it just makes it a wee bit more real. So I'm pleased and a little bit sad at the same time. Her new beau is the single father of two boys that are in my younger son's class so it all works out in a kind of Brady Bunch way.