Sensitivity Raining

So as I made my rounds in cybertown last night I had the opportunity to stop by some crazy lady's blog - Like they're ain't enough of them in this burg.

she had this heart felt saga about her crazy dog

Well, Muggsy's blowup-free September ended at 23 days today. It was just a weird day all around. In fact, it was so bad that I called the behaviorist. When I got home, everything seemed OK, but when I went to lie down because I'm coming down with something, Muggsy came bolting into the bedroom and laid ontop of me. He wouldn't leave. Chubbs and Fenway wouldn't go near him. It was so weird. After that, he wouldn't leave my side. He wouldn't even get six inches from me. I was doing laundry, and he was underfoot. I sat on the couch, and he sat beside me. I sat down at the computer, and he tried to climb on my lap. He sat in the bathroom for 10 minutes and tried to catch a fly. I put him in his crate and he cried to get out. It was very un-Muggsy-like behavior.

I called my boss and she told me to call the behaviorist. The behaviorist said that something probably happened to scare him today and just go on with life as if he were fine. She said not to be worried until it went on a couple of days. But of course I'm worried! My boss suggested that maybe someone tried to get in the house today or made a big noise outside. She also said that an earthquake might be coming since dogs tend to get freaky before an earthquake. At her advice, I took him to a drive-through for a special treat. We went to McDonalds and then I gave him a chicken sandwich at Peck Park. When we got back home, he seemed a little better. But then he got really freaked out by a fly in the living room. He just couldn't settle down, running from room to room, climbing on Ross. We killed the fly and put him in his crate with a bone. And so comes the blowup.

We noticed that he wasn't chewing on the bone, so we went to try to let him out of his crate. As soon as Ross got close, he started growling. A few minutes later, I tried, and he growled at me. But I didn't want to leave when he started growling because I don't want him to learn that aggression works. I waited and he kept going, progressing into a full-blown blowup. I'm letting him relax now before I try to let him out one more time. If I can't let him out now, he'll have to stay in there all night.

Oh and did I mention that when we were leaving to go to the drivethrough, four little boys were walking by on our sidewalk and started making noises at Muggsy. So he lunged and burned my hand with the leash, trying to hold him back.

But Ross has generously offered to stay home tomorrow and make sure he's OK since I have two deadlines in the morning. I hope to see improvement tomorrow.

And I couldn't help but laugh until pieces of my throat lining dislodged and came to rest on my keyboard.
Of course this deserved a comment that would help and i manged something like:
"that's the funniest thing I've ever read because you really believe it!" Then I added the advice that she should leave her radio tuned to NPR for poor puppy while she and "daddy" are away. It would help aleviate puppys insecurity and make him have more self esteem.

When people are so self absorbed that they won't raise children, they try to compensate for their natural desire to nurture by turning poor puppies into their "children". This is a disaster factory. There is no way that a dog who is treated like a spoiled human baby will ever be normal.

It would be better for the dog if it were a stray, roaming the streets for food and joining a pack of currs.

Please don't do this. If you feel the need ot spoil a living creature, go to the local orphanage and buy some kid there a chicken sammich - they will probably say "thank you" and maybe even hug you. Do this three or four times a week if you want to, just don't screw up some poor dogs mind with your "love".

Why are women so stupid?

I mean really, French Pedicures? We all know that allfrench women are perfectly coiffured and have imaculate hygene but why inthe heckare chicks all over America doing this thing where they put the little white stripes on the edge of their toenails? and why do they have a quarter inch of claw haning off the edge of their toes anyway? What, are they climbing telephone poles? What could women in America possibly be doing that requires their toenails to drag the pavement?

I'm just gonna warn my wife right now - if you come to bed with daggers onyour feet you will be there alone!

I have been out in public and seen what seem to be normal housewife type women of all ages with these Talons dangling out of their sandals. Not old, nasty women who never seem to be able to keep them trimmed (due to lack of flexibility or pedicure funding) but women who go into "happy nails" and tell the Vietnamese lady "Make my toenails stick out real far".

Gross.

Britney's guide to semiconductor physics

I just had to add theis link becaus it is wonderful. Britney's guide to semiconductor physics.

It is amazing that she had the time to study - let alone explain this tough subject what with her singing career, motherhood and tv reality show and all. Did you see the episode where she and Kevin got the Schrödinger equation tattooed on their inner thighs? Now that's Reality TV!

Sunday Morning Wakeup Call

7AM - I worked till 11 last night and didn't really get to bed till 3AM. Sooooo I wasn't really happy when Skittles the Wonder Dog (played by Ed from The Lion King) Came scratching and whining at 7AM.

He (accompanied by Maddie - played by Nala) went out and had a great time peeing and pooping and sniffing and licking themselves and each other. For about ten minutes. Just as I had settled back in again and got all snuggly with Michele , the howling started - Skittles can break windows when he gets going.

Most of his life he was very quiet but in the last couple of months he has found his voce and been getting very demanding (much like his older sister, Reese - played by Santa). Where Reese make the neighbors think we are beating her (with her sharp, painful-sounding yipes) when she wants in, Skittles does an impression of an A10 Warthog. The piercing noise doesn't even sound dog-like. Imagine a beagle with his balls in a vice. Then play that at double speed and there you go. If you have ever heard the distinctive sound of an A10 - Imagine one tied down outside your bedroom window at full throttle.



That's what I got at 7:15AM this morning.

The whole time Virtual Boy snoozed in his room.

The price of gas and beach bums

So tonight I sat and waited for the freakin tourists to show up. Normally I am so annoyed with Labor Day and can't wait for the throngs of blibbety-blabs to get the giggety giggety out of town so I can have my beach back

Tonight however was a real experience. I rented two rooms - one to a local. Either the price of gas put the trip out of the reach of many families or folks decided to give their vacation money to the Salvation Army and Red Cross.

I really hope it's the latter.

Give to the Red Cross Here.

Donate to Salvation Army

Don't forget the Wonderful Ministry Samaritan's Purse


All three of these organizations are well-run and do not waste money padding the pockets of execs.

First Homework of the year

This is the first homework assignment my son completed for high school. It's a poem using metephors to describe himself and I think it's freakin brilliant.

Nathan
I am a Typhoon
wild
   crazy
     unpredictable
I come quickly
   then...
I go as fast as I came
with a piece of that place with me
as a reminder
and leave a reminder with that place
always moving
never stopping...
Learning
I am a Typhoon

Kick him some props at his site

I didn't write this

So i found this from the Boston globe.

The Cindy Sheehan you don't know
By Cathy Young, Globe Columnist | August 22, 2005

IT IS ENORMOUSLY difficult to say anything critical about Cindy Sheehan, the Everymom of the antiwar movement, without sounding indecently callous. She is, after all, a woman who has lost her child -- one of humankind's most universal images of grief. Her vigil outside President Bush's ranch in Crawford, Texas, where she has vowed to stay until the president meets with her and hears her out, has inspired great sympathy. Conservative attempts to make an issue of Sheehan's far-left ties have been cited as an example of how low those abominable right-wingers will to stoop: They'll even slime a grieving mother.

I respect Sheehan's pain, no doubt compounded by her mother's stroke last week. Yet Sheehan is not simply expressing her pain and rage, privately or even publicly; when she turns her grief into a political cause, her politics cannot remain off-limits.

Sheehan's first and foremost demand is that all American troops be brought home from Iraq immediately. On this scale, irrationality becomes dangerous. Even many of those who opposed the war in Iraq from the start are convinced that a quick pullout would be a disaster -- both for the Iraqis, and for all those who would suffer if Iraq became a fully operational terrorist base. Who will have to give account to the bereaved men and women whose loved ones will be killed as a result?

But there's more than that to Sheehan's politics. She is not simply against the war in Iraq (and, as she told talk show host Chris Matthews on CNBC, against the war in Afghanistan as well). She has thrown in her lot with the hardcore Michael Moore left, and this less savory aspect of her crusade has been largely ignored by the respectful media.

In her public appearances, Sheehan has not only called Bush ''the biggest terrorist in the world" but suggested that his ''band of neocons" deliberately allowed the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11 to happen: ''9/11 was their Pearl Harbor to get their neo-con agenda through," she told a cheering crowd at San Francisco State University last April.

That crowd, by the way, was holding a rally in support of Lynne Stewart, a radical New York attorney convicted in 2003 of aiding and abetting a terrorist conspiracy. Sheehan compared Stewart -- who served as a liaison between her incarcerated client, terrorist mastermind Sheikh Omar Abdel Rahman, and his network outside -- to Atticus Finch, the lawyer in ''To Kill a Mockingbird" who heroically defends a black man falsely accused of raping a white woman in the Jim Crow South.

Even more troubling opinions have surfaced in an e-mail Sheehan sent to ABC News last April: ''Am I emotional? Yes, my first born was murdered. Am I angry? Yes, he was killed for lies and for a PNAC [Project for the New American Century, a neoconservative think thank] Neo-Con agenda to benefit Israel. My son joined the army to protect America, not Israel."

After some media outlets publicized these comments, which smack of blaming the Jews for drawing the U.S. into the war in Iraq, Sheehan disavowed them: she claims the offending lines were inserted into her email by an ABC News staffer. (The original email has been lost due to an Internet virus attack.) But this latest conspiracy-mongering is hard to believe, especially given the general anti-Israel tenor of Sheehan's public statements: for instance, she railed against the notion that ''it's okay for Israel to have nuclear weapons, but Iran or Syria better not get nuclear weapons."

A comment on the left-wing website Daily Kos described Sheehan as ''Terri Schiavo reincarnated." I believe this was meant as a compliment. But actually, the Sheehan circus has a lot in common with the Schiavo circus, none of it good. Both stories represent a triumph -- on different sides of the political divide -- of emotion- and sentiment-driven politics. Schiavo's parents could go off on paranoid, crazy, vitriolic rants, and enjoy a certain immunity by virtue of their unthinkable tragedy. The same is true of Sheehan.

Sheehan's grief entitles her to sympathy, which is why I believe the president should have granted her the meeting she wanted. (On pragmatic grounds, it would have also taken the sting out of Sheehan's protest.) But her loss does not give her, as New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd has claimed, an ''absolute" moral authority -- any more than it would if her reaction to her son's death was to demand a US nuclear strike against the insurgents.

Boys night in

So the Wife and friends are out shopdiddly opping and I am home with three 14 year-old young men. I was invited to join in on a round of NGC Super Smash Brothers Melee . I realized it was a setup and left quickly to avoid total desecration. Now i am sequestered in the Living room with pork loins goin in the oven. I have added an old imac keyboard to the notebook so i have a marble mouse and keyboard while sitting on the couch.

When the boys are done playing Clue I will serve up gently roasted, then braised pork chops with three color chili beans. They have already snacked on chips while playing games and then had Mozzarella sticks during a break.

The Surround Sound game room is a real hit! I can barely hear my TV in the living room and the kids are at the other end of the house. They have been killing each other, beating each other with oversized mallots, and blowing a lot of things up.

Seachele has called and said they are having fun (means spending money) so i am counteracting by turning all lights off and settign the thermostat to 85%.

Conan the Destroyer is on right now - what a waste after the groundbreaking epic Conan The Barbarian.

Well the pork is ready - gotta go.

A gazillion more rednecks on the Riviera!

Well, it's official! There will now be one gazillion more rednecks headin to the Redneck Riviera this year. The explosion in Condo building on the north end of the grand strand has assured more "ignernt jaluliments" than ever before. As if we didn't have enough gugenflems cloggin up the streets and walking around all sunburnt and irritable.

So now this boom in building has them draining every swamp for 10 miles and filling it with tourists - not a bad idea if they did that the proper way, but they'll build condos first; fleece the saps of all their cash; then stack 'em 30 stories high. Make sure they have a pool. Don't let the wind blow sand into their faces. "Could you do something about the water? It keeps coming in and going out! What kind of way is this to run an ocean, anyway? Disney has softer water! and there are thingies crawling all over the sand. Can we get someone to call an exterminator?"

All I have to say is thank you very much. Now I'm going to have to find another out of the way small town and settel there. Until people realize I have moved in and then the property values there will soar like they did here. The whole thing will start again. I 've spent half my life making places popular thenm having to move to get away from the popular places.

Next time I ain't telling anybody where I go.

The Island of The Experiment

I really wanted to go to the Island - phooey!

I really liked the new movie "The Island" It reminded me of a novel by John Darnton The Experiment. The premise is identical but the movie has a lot more explosions and hovertrains and such (huda thunkit?). It was the second thriller type movie we took Nathanga to and he really enjoyed it! He did cover his face during the one brief kissykissy, rubbyrubby.
It was a solid story based really closely on The Experiment. However it was going to have to sell to the masses so out went a bunch of plot and in went thirty minutes of explosions, car chases, futuristic imaginary thingies and all the other stuff that make teenagers go "shizizzle" (or what ever they go these days).
I guess they decided to change the story enough to make sure Darnton couldn't get a penny from it so they substituted the south Georgia barrier island for a gazillion-dollar megacomplex and took the time of actual cloning from years to "a year" just to make it complete BS. The scenes were put together well, though and despite the science of the movie being looney; the fiction part was pretty nice.

SPOILER - just to make a dramatic chase scene with lots of banybangy smashysmashy - they were carrying locomotive wheels on a flatbed truck - but all the trains in the movie were HOVERTRAINS! just another example how Hollywood will contradict itself just to make some more explosions.

Despite the contrived technology (Why would anybody make a high-tech, double-barreled harpoon gun? and wouldn't the one-inch hook rip out of the guy's back before it would support him twenty stories above nothing?) The Island had a nice little plot. And a little plot is about all todays teenagers could handle isn't it?

The Island is a nice little pic with plenty of flash and jerky camera moves to make up for solid filmmaking. It will keep you entertained for 2:18, and thats more footage for your money than the average film these days.

The Old High Horse

I remember when old Jake (who was tired of my Dad trying to get him off the sauce) told My Dad to "get down off yer high horse".

At that age I didn't understand why he'd say that. We only had ponies and they were not 'specially high even for Welshes. One time when I was about four we had Dixie, a Quarterhorse - but that was in Alabama and Jake didn't even know us then. How come he'd want my dad off a pony even when he wasn't on one at the time.


As I got up in the middle school years, I grew to understand the expression, not only as the way Rich kids (who who thought their snot wasn't green) thought of me but also how I thought of kids who didn't go by the exacting moral code that I had known since my birth.

When kids would want to snitch drinks from the Duck Inn, I would tell them how stealing was wrong and how it would only hurt the family that owned the tiny country store.

Kids would tell me to get off my high horse.

I was talking with my Dad about why some people didn't do what was right and how many of these people never got caught and some unscruplous folks got rich doing it.

My dad, reflecting on how folks didn't quite understand why we always did what was right and why we spoke out against those that were wrong said this to me:
"When all you got is your high horse, it's perty durn hard to come down off it!"

Rainy day in paradise

Woke up at 8 to the sound of rain. Not the joyous sound of an afternoon thunderstorm - whoosh, boom, boom, cricketchirp it's over. The moanful sound of an all-day, Saturday, rain. Crap! Got to get the dogs out anyway before they crap, or whatever, after 8 hours inside.

Now the dogs come back in all happy to have peed and pooped. They are soaked, wringing and shaking themselves to no end then wallerin on their backs to make sure the carpet smells just as bad as they do.

Skittles has bounded across the bed to show Mommy how wet he is! "Look at my pawprints all over the quilt!"

Lock the dogs in Nathanga's room - he sleeps on the floor anyway, right in front of the TV. He won't mind if they soak his bed.

Woke up at noon to the sound of rain.

Get going for work today. Check the Boy. The dogs are all snuggled with him on the floor. Hard to tell where the shaggy dog leaves off and the shaggy boy starts.

Boy and dogs go outside to pee. All back in now and soaked.

Guess I better get to work!

Personal Property? not any more

The Supreme court called today and told me they were gonna give my house to some old lady who likes cats. - Because it would be nice for everybody in the community to have someone to hate.

I even said that I would start raising goats if that would make them happy but apparently goats aren't in the "best interest of the community".

Dang.

Well, What are you gonna do? You can't expect to just be able to live in the house you paid for and established!

Now if everyone in the 90210 zip code would just surrender their house so we can put in that Super-Duper Walmart.

My most peaceful day at the beach ever!

It Worked!

Since I commanded the sun come out it has (with a vengance!) Me and the boy hit the beach fer 1 hour the other day and was sunbernt (even with sunscreen) but it was great - the water is almost perfect, just a little cool but that goes away after you get yer first dunkin.

So as i got ready to head to work tonight Nathanga says he wants to switch his room with the back office because it's bigger. I say "okay" thinking we'll start measuring and analyzing where everything will go tomorrow morning.

Wife calls and say's he's nearbout done! When that kid gets somehting in his head - WATCHOUT! I just hope he don't start out like that when he starts noticin' girls or I'll be a grandpappy in no time.
YIKES!

There ya go flowers!

OK i think the flowers have got enough rain now. I got a faint glimpse of blue in the sky today. I blinked and it was gone. Grey! gray! greigh!

It will have to be sunny tomorrow. I will not tolerate one more day of rain!

I HAVE SPOKEN!

but if it rains tomorrow i'll just lay in bed and watch movies.

Defrag

I have two computers on my switch - as per usual one is being fixed. I am currently running defrag.

I love Defrag. I like to watch the screen while the magnetic particles rearange themselves into perfectly ordely patterns. I know that speeddisk does a much better job but i like watching the little rectangles flash on and off.
blinking
blinking
blinking
just like the way my turn signals go when i'm driving
bleen-king
bleen-king
bleen-king

I have become so enamored with the sound and corespoonding flashes of light that i now drive with blinkers on almost all the time. Mostly when driving straight. I don't likle to have the stirrin' wheel shut off my blinkie friends so i manually turn them off before making a turn. Otherwise it might cut off the blinking prematurely
bleen-king
bleen-king
bleen..... then nothing! aaarrrrrrrrgh! Just like when them queens stop the dang song without saying "of the wooooooooooooooorld!"

How many times have we all sat through the end of that pop ballad only to be let down in the end by a lack of resolution after an early climax?


OOHHH! Defrag is done. Let me start it again!
bleen-king
bleen-king
bleen-king

Such a Headache

the phone won't stop ringing but is just kids who want to know how much they owe or how to get to the beach. I have only had a smidgeon of caffeine and my head is in a vice here...

The first Rose of Spring

It's barely spring and we already have our first rose! I cut it this evening on the way back from paying the waterbill. could our ancestors believe we pay for water?

Would they think it was a good deal? I mean it was free for Great Granpappy Zebadiah, but he had to hike down to the river and haul it ack in a bucket. One bucket at a time. It might take an hours work for 5 gallons of water and we pay about a tenth-of-a-cent per gallon for it to come into our house. If you make twenty dollars an hour and it takes an hour to get five gallon buckets from the river to your house that would be $5 per gallon.

Sounds like we got zeb beat all to heck on the cost of water - and there's hardly any bugs in it either!

Boohbah's Back - i think

So last night about 3am I was awakened in a start.
I had been dreaming of the freakin' Boohbah! I changed channels on the TV to 113 - nice boring history stuff. I gave Seachele a peck and nestled all snug.

BOOOOOOOBAAAAAAAAH!

What the heck? I wasn't even asleep yet and already I'm letting this thing get to me. It was still going - the whole boobah song. I got up and looked around partly to make sure I was awake and partly to make sure boohbah hadn't come back as an evil ghost boohbah (i've read about them but didn't believe it) to suck my brain out while I slept.

nothing

I turned on every light in the house and looked in every closet. I checked the dogs' water bowl to make sure it hadn't sucked it dry.

nothing

I went back and got in bed after making sure Nathanga was breathing and all the dogs were ok. I hadn't seen Maddy but sometimes she sleeps under the bed.

UNDER THE BED!

right about then the sound came back - the wiggly giggly song, the one he sings when you squeeze his foot - RIGHT UNDER THE BED!

I knew I heard it this time and jumped out of bed - there was Boohbah being chewed relentlessly by Maddy. She had hid him under the bed for a couple weeks and had been gnawing him to bits but he was still alive!

I put maddy in the cage and snuggled boohbah in bed with me. and slept.