Captivity - Day 33 It's raining ferrets

Like the damn thing up top says, we're into day 33 of captivity.
It's not at all punchy or violent. No weapons were pulled from the safe. No safe was there to pull the weapons from. It was a test, officer. I swear.

I suspect the wife and dog are against me. I hear them up all night, plotting and planting. What use is planting for me?
Must watch carefully...


I was going to start exercising, but when the Weather Guy said there may be snow toward the end of the year, I had to call it off. No use getting my chops together, only to find it's snowing.


It's a nice-looking morning, especially discovering that the medicine you got to calm down the side-effects of the other medicines, requires another med to stop its own side effects. This is the Shakespeare of Pill Pushing. Hopefully this will stop the body from randomly throwing itself at the ground.  *Flying is the art of throwing yourself at the ground and missing."  - Douglas Adams


Let's try to make something positive of this.
ummmm..... I didn't have to mow yesterday?


I just got a stack of birthday cards. It was really nice.
I feel bad, so I won't tell them they're off by a few weeks.

The doctor told me to exercise.
He wouldn't take NO for an answer.
He didn't even believe that exercise causes cancer.
It took me hours to put together the scholarly research project, all for nought.



You've probably never seen anything like it, but I successfully flipped a pizza in the air, then it landed on the oven. I wasn't trying. You know if I tried, it would have cut itself into slices, got out some paper plates, and served itself to the ThermionicEmissions staff. It was kinda fascinating to look at Naked Pizza. Take everything off and you're left with crust tinted red.
To make things more interesting, the dishes staged a revolt. As I washed, things started to leap into the sink; either suicidal, or just to piss me off. Or both. Everybody headed for the Safe Room, but I explained what happened and they went to the Safe Room instead. 3 minutes later, the dried dishes joined forces with the dirty dishes, and it was ON. The off the rails moment was when a huge baking sheet flew itself at the ground. Practicing my newfound calm, it only made it to the roof. I gave up doing the dishes at that point,  because I was worried about getting sliced up. It took another 20 minutes for the circus to stop and pack itself up. We have knives so sharp, if you even look at them, they'll cut off body parts. It's like the Amityville Horror, but with a really gorgeous dog.

Hey wait... we could do a reality show live from lefty place, and bring in a different exorcist every week. We could follow them around, asking really stupid questions. We could ask how the SM4 (Stupid Monitor) meter works and how many minutes it took to assemble it. One of the hosts will be an attractive female. At the end of every show, she'll get slimed. For some unknown reason, she never wears a bra...



It takes a lot very little to make me angry, up to and including flamethrowers.
When the ground starts shaking, low pitched growling noises, and many other socially difficult stunts, Mrs lefty grabs the dog and runs for cover. There are only 2 things that really get me going: Calling for support and purchasing something online. Well, let's start by listing commonalities... a phone, a computer, English as a second language and me.  My browsers are so locked down that even I can't use them. It can take 8 browsers and 2 operating systems to make it through the transaction, plus a lot of screaming (but I am never rude to the person on the other end of the phone). I made a reasonable suggestion never to use a Social Security number for identification. She kept repeating that it was necessary for identification. Lovely script, no?


RING RING...
blah blah blah para primo pressy numero 13.
silence
Would you like to open your card?
If I didn't, why would I be calling you?
I need your SS#
No you don't. How come the Magic Phone Lady wants the last 4 and you want the whole thing?
It is for identification.
We shouldn't be using SS# for ID
We are just trying to identify you.
You mean all the info I gave you, including size of my ahem..., wasn't enough? No, you may NOT take a measurement for me.

It got downright hysterical when I called Comcast. Their server had an aneurysm when I asked it to do something. Then I got to play 14 rounds of CAPTCHA fun. How many buses can you spot in these blurry boxes? None - the boxes are too blurry. I have to give them credit: I got it all done on their page. Now they can fire customer service people. And you can't do anything because Comcast owns everything Disney doesn't.




Sad news this morning: work lost one to the Flying AIDS. He had gloves, mask and other protective gear.  We salute him and hope for the best for those left behind.

first tube on the Moon

Armageddon Not Scheduled for This Year - Rest Easy

Some exercise equipment commercial referenced all the benefits to using their latest Wonder Instrument of Torture. First, you'd look like or get their really hot model. Your shapely 310lb frame will fit into a size two when you're done. And it will benefit your core.

I'm sorry, but even with the sad state of public school anatomy curriculum, I don't have a core. Car radiators have a core. Apples have a core. You can core a fruit. We're reaching the core of the matter. You can core more, as well as coring less, but you have no core.

And exercise causes cancer.

• The CIA's "Vault 7" leak was an inside job, according to the FBI. The DIA begs to differ. In keeping with their mission, the TSA has no clue. The DHS isn't commenting because they're still trying to find Vault 6. Very quietly, the NSA is over there in the corner, snickering.

Securus Technologies gives the police the ability to track cell phone locations without a warrant.  Isn't that great? If they can't get your information from a court, they just get in touch with Securus. RIP Fourth Amendment.

• Remember that stupid window cleaner commercial where the birds kept crashing into the windows because they're so clean? Yup, it happens here. You're minding your own business, then BAM - another birdprint on the window. This enrages the woodpecker that pecks on the aluminum siding once a year.

What is it about my phone that causes loud noises and the laws of physics to rearrange themselves?

On a late phone meeting the other night, one of the kids walks in, speaking at the top of her lungs; "HEY LEFTY GUESS WHAT I WAS IN THE YARD AND.." I'm waving my hands and making the universal gesture for STFU - NOW! She waved her hands (loudly) and said she was sorry.

Ten minutes later, someone decided they needed a candle or seven lit, for a calm atmosphere.  Who can argue with a calm atmosphere? Even if there has never been one in the entire time in the house? She started by tripping over some imaginary object - BANG!  The dog BARKED to be let out, because there's something about my boss' voice that starts his bladder talking to him.

Back at table, the phone rings.

Back at the candles, they are getting lit, except for Number Three, which falls over with a SMASH of glass. BANG BANG BANG went the feet as more tripping ensued.

I snicker at the pointlessness and impossibility of getting anything done at home.

At this point I'm incredibly impressed by a glass candle holder whizzing past my head, on the way to a window. And finally, in a futile attempt to continue lighting candles, my wife knocked over a perfect split in bowling, where two candles are on the extreme left and one candle on the extreme right. It might actually be quieter to install a bowling alley in the living room.

• After about three years of consulting, I'm proud to have been offered a job at the company for which I'm consulting. As a full time employee, I'll have to attend orientation, where they'll teach me how to fill in forms, get very little done, and how to nap without snoring. No word on an attitude or whether it's self-developed. The difficult part will be the class in not communicating with my team or other teams.
• About 16 years ago, when I got my last big job, I called my grandmother first, to let her know. She was thrilled. I wish I could call her today. Hopefully they read this blog.

Google AdSense sent out an email about new Terms of Service. You'll get these from various online services because of GDPR-QRSTUV, over in the EU. It's a privacy platform that says advertisers must keep your information secure before they sell it to others. There are occasional ads on this blog, which is how bloggers earn a few pennies per year. In the past eight years or so, I've earned approximately... more or less.... just about... Nothing. This is one of the benefits of having fifteen readers (up from ten). Many years ago, when I was with a Large Network, I made money from blogging. Not guitar money, but a few bucks. When they got unpleasant, I moved here. That really showed them!  Which goes to show you that I do this for nothing. And why shouldn't I?  I appreciate you coming by to see what's going on in leftyWorld.  If you like it, please tell your friends, your parents, and your kids. If you don't like it, please tell your enemies and in-laws (and me).

• London's database of gang members is 87% BAME (Black, Asian, minority, ethnic) and is accused of being "racially discriminatory". It has been suggested that they add some white people to the list to balance things out.

Dave Fullarton was cleaning out a house belonging to a friend who had died, when he came across Army Captain Larry Casey's ashes. As Baltimore National Cemetery made arrangements for a full military burial, Dave put out an invitation on social media for people to attend the veteran's funeral.  Some played Internet Detective and located Casey's widow and daughter, who flew out on one day's notice.

The history goes like this: some of Casey's ashes were spread in a memorial service and the rest were given to his best friend, many years earlier.

Approximately 300 people, including veterans and police, turned out for the funeral.                              I think I've got something in my eye.

• in the Alternate Universe Department, this time it's not me! My wife noticed that when she called her mother, it went right to voicemail. And Mom never noticed. No one else in the entire huge family has this problem. Mom is stymied.
• In order to call her mom, she has to call another family member to call Mom first, then have Mom call her. This should be fun if she needs to get in touch quickly.

Hell truly has frozen over. The pope told a gay man that God made him like this and God loves him. Well, Mr. Pope, from what I understand, that's a very Catholic thing to say - good on ya!  Don't they say love the sinner, hate the sin? Because this is so interesting, let me add that the remarks were made to a victim of clerical sexual abuse. A cynic might say that the insurance company made him say it.

Hoarders has refused to do a show on our house, as we have walkways and nothing's piled higher than anyone's head, Marshall excluded. I'm not sure whether to feel happy or excluded. In that spirit, we're house cleaning.

I have a computer room. Rather, I had a computer room. It's still physically there, but might have blipped into an alternate universe. When I opened the door, it had returned to our universe and I got nostalgic for the times my wife yelled at me because I spent all my time in there computing and building Stuff. So I started the front end loader and got enough things out so I could enter. Then more stuff. Then I remembered I forgot or refused to throw things out, so I went lighter, using a snow shovel. Having carved out enough space to work at the desk, I figured I could clean as I went along.

Perhaps I was a bit too ambitious.

But no experience is without learning, so I learned a few things...

• as little as 1/2" of dust on a keyboard can impair typing
• just because it's a huge outlet strip, with all sorts of things plugged into it, doesn't mean there's actually power there, or to all of the outlets. Fortunately I figured this out before the laptop laughed and shut itself down.
• Old square displays confuse the hell out of laptops, rendering at least one of the screens useless.
• mice with balls still work, people with them, not so much
• I had forgotten about the sensual experience of using a gel mousepad that's leaking gel. Amazon will benefit like mad.
• anything I want to use will be plugged into something else
• I have an odd number of speakers
• it's 20 degrees hotter than the rest of the house and to open the window is going to take some sort of gymnastics that might get me into the Olympics
• like fixing computers, there will be some amount of screaming and cursing involved
• I missed my ergonomic keyboards like mad

I Told You So. Again.

According to my Special Blogger Dashboard, readership has gone up. No, really, I was as surprised as you. Instead of six per day, I'm up to twenty two. In what must be New Math, the counter says twenty two, but the bar graph says seven. Maybe it's a graphics thing - I never understood graphics. If I had my way, email would still be text-based, with no pictures or backgrounds or, heaven forbid, emojis. It would also be virus-free, but what do I know?

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I have maintained that exercise will kill you and that housework is exercise. Everybody laughs.

Well, I just proved it.

Mrs lefty has gone on a cleaning spree, the likes of which have not been seen since before we moved in. In fact, this is our 20th anniversary in the house, so to celebrate, we're cleaning. Ok, be fair, she's cleaning. I'm holding down the couch, which is quite a valuable and respected job. What if the couch were to get away on its own? That would be ugly, and we don't want that sort of ugliness in the place. We prefer other, more ugly, sorts of ugliness.

Mrs lefty is a very patient woman. We've been married for about twenty-some years, so that explains a lot about her patience and tolerance and sense of humor. But I can try the patience of the pope (Judge Judy can make the pope antisemitic) and I have tried (and succeeded) my wife's patience past the breaking point. She very politely 'suggested' that I assist with her Grand Cleaning Scheme. She would not hear of my successes in holding down the couch, not the dangers of it defying gravity and escaping. Now when I say very politely, I mean the sheer volume of her request fired off nuclear alerts in four countries on the other side of the globe. She was even so bold as to ignore my statements about exercise and cleaning.

Realizing that I wanted to sleep in my own bed, I 'decided' to join her in her quest.

One of my first tasks was to get the trash out. Now this is an stunningly mundane and ordinary task. Except in my house. Due to a very peculiar trash can, in a very peculiar house, inhabited by peculiar people and their very peculiar dog, we use peculiar trash bags, which are a bit larger than the can. When I go to pull the bags out, they refuse to come out. If I listen closely I can hear the sound of them openly mocking me. So I do the only thing a man can do - curse and do the Trash Can Dance, where I yank on the bag with one hand and with the other hand I try to pry it loose from the inside, again, using a lot of screaming and cursing.  Screaming and cursing, by the way, is the only way to fix computers, cars, and most of the time, houses. Then I put my hand in the other side, dislodging it from the can. I repeat this in two inch increments until the can finally lets go of the bag (complete with final mocking noises). Sometimes this produces a sigh, sometimes I just fall back on my well-padded derriere. Buttocks. Bum. Bottom. Situpon. Ass.

Having accomplished Trash, I got on to Carrying Things. In my wife's condition, it's best that I carry things up and down steps, as some days she can't carry herself up the steps. This particular device needed to be relocated to the basement, as the singing and dancing interrupted midnight chocolate runs. Down the steps I went, unable to see the steps or my feet, when I got the warning to watch the large storage box by the bottom of the steps. We, for some reason, have rather a large quantity of storage boxes, perhaps for storing things. The part that makes this situation unique is that we can never find the correct lid for the box, much like the 3,000 piece Tupperware set we have. While it might hurt to count, I'd say most of the house is in plastic storage boxes in the basement.

Down the steps I went, under my own power, careful to notice the storage box by the bottom of the steps.  I was so careful that I performed what I was told was a very amusing, slow-motion, sideways triple lindy onto said storage box. I performed this feat while saving the device I was carrying, as opposed to saving any part of my body, which was apparently unimportant to me at the moment. Oddly enough, I managed to survive this adventure without any screaming at all. In fact, I might perform it again with screaming, just to make sure I got it right the first time.

So I submit to you proof that [exercise = cleaning = injury]. I told you so. Again.

Muppet Paws Strikes Again

An Ikea museum has opened in Sweden, celebrating the firm's history. Next month, K-Mart is opening a similar museum. In a restroom somewhere in Detroit.

• Been thinking of a new pet for Marshall. The idea of a sloth is interesting. Even if you go to sleep for the night, he'll only get ten feet total from the bed.

During a planned active shooter drill at Andrews Joint Base, an real life active shooter alert was called. The base reported it. The press reported it. The Secretary of Defense reported it. And hour later, the alert was called off, stating it was a planned active shooter drill. Because the base, the press and the Secretary of Defense don't know and can't tell the difference. Nothing to see here - move along.

• According to a Baltimore professor, white people need to give all their money to black people. You can't even write parody as good as real life anymore.

Although we know that Faceyspaces is inherently evil, statistics dictate that some of the people here use it. I won't call you out by name (because I don't know it) but I'd like to share with you this guide to FB security settings.

• Over 100 women posed naked against Trump in front of the Republican National Convention. This is a short-term goal for me that's close to my heart.
• Speaking of the RNC, as we'd expect, it started with a prayer. Yeah, separation at its finest. Also, one of the featured speakers is from Duck Dynasty. That's putting your best foot forward, guys.

Did you know that your plane cannot take off until they're sure the coffee maker works?
I suspect they fear armed insurrection if it doesn't.

• I was told a long time ago that guitar players got all the girls. And I hear that women love a sense of humor. I should be doing better than Leo DiCaprio at this point...

A man shot at two teens playing Pokemon, mistaking them for intruders. I say he didn't mistake them, which makes it a service to the neighborhood.

• In the oasis of Afghanistan, a pregnant fourteen year old girl was burned to death in an 'honor killing'.  What other religion has these advantages... you can impregnate an underage girl then kill her for having sex and being pregnant?

Exercise, they said...the doc told me it would be a good idea. So I bought a stepper, assembled it with a lot of screaming, and proceeded to go against everything I stood for. It was horrible.

Back at the doctor's, he asked how it was coming. I told him exactly how it was going: I got on the stepper and watched every second go by, calculating how long it would take til I could stop. The doctor, bless his soul, said that if exercise caused me this kind of grief, I shouldn't do it.

I now have Doctor's Advice not to exercise. My life is complete.

Go outside, they said.. feeling brave, I took the dog out back. Smelling the air, post heatwave, I looked around at my back yard (that I hate because I have to mow it). There sure were a lot of trees that I didn't know existed. They provided needed shade. I began to think that maybe I could spend a few minutes out there, maybe with a laptop (there's no helping me). 

Feeling positive, we went back inside, to the air conditioning... where I noticed the itching, where several bugs bit my legs. Up and down. 

Now I need a doctor's note to keep me inside, on my glorious couch.  

Questions - We Have Questions

Does Down Syndrome affect black people?

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Don't you think that, sometime before Beaver College changed their name to Arcadia, the cub scouts would rename the Weblos?

Funny story, that.  

For some reason, I found myself in the cub scouts.  And I was apparently a Weblo, which was pretty funny even then.  I don't remember getting much from the experience but there I was.

One day they decided they were going to clean up the trash in the woods by my house.  The area was used largely for drinking and partying by older kids and was an unholy mess.  Along came the Appointed Morning, Saturday, and my alarm was going off at eight a.m.  

I found myself at an existential crossroads at that moment.  But like a bolt of lightning, it hit me: I was not an altruist (in its most pure form).  If I had bothered to drag myself out of bed and assist in the cleanup, the entire area would be dirty again within weeks.  This wasn't what I wanted to do with my free time, especially the free time I spent sleeping on weekends.  I promptly phoned in my resignation from the `Blos'.

Now for the irony:

I work for a social services non-profit.  One would be correct to inquire as to how my lack of altruism found me working at this sort of place.  Most people work there due to their beliefs or altruism.  Don't tell anyone but I work there because they accepted my resume when I needed a job.

One of the activities my socially-minded workplace engages in is cleaning up the crack park on Martin Luther King day.  And the following year, to celebrate, they go out and clean the crack park again.

I did not know Dr. King.  I didn't spend a lot of time reading up on the gentleman.  But I believe I know enough to understand that he was for education and lifting one's self up, not cleaning up drug paraphernalia year after year.

Needless to say, I do not volunteer for the effort.

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Say lefty - is exercise as bad for you as you always say?

For some, exercise may INCREASE heart attack risk.

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So why does radio suck these days?

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A present: Sofia Vergara spot.

For my birthday, I simply asked for Mila Kunis or Sofia Vergara.  I ask for so little - and that's precisely what I got.

Wives typically don't have a very good sense of humor (except mine: she married me).

The E-Word

I didn't realize it at first but I've lived my life in a certain way.  Now that I'm more or less middle-aged, I think it's safe to come out of the closet and speak on this topic a bit.  I didn't have far to go out of said closet, as anyone who knows me will attest.

As I tell people who expect me to lift boxes, "I'm a knowledge worker.  Lift it yourself."

You see, my enemy is out there in plain sight: it's exercise.  I don't believe in it.  It's foul and evil and all the rest of that kind of stuff that brings people out into the streets to violate the rights of others.

Let's face it: if you run, you get a heart attack and die.  If you swim, you get a heart attack, drown and die.  Do you really want that for yourself?  I sure as hell don't.

It all happened at the doctor last week.  Before I had a chance to lecture him on keeping patients (specifically this one) waiting for close to an hour, he said I needed to exercise.  I told him I lift one hundred ninety pounds every morning: I get out of bed.  Not flustered at all, he said that was insufficient.

I told him I walk all day at work.   No good.

He suggested I walk the dog.  I suggested that's what fenced yards are for.

Undaunted, he told me to walk inside the fence with the dog.

You have to admire the inventiveness and sheer tenacity of the learned doctor, not to mention his willingness to screw with me.

Then he pulled out the Big Guns<tm>: if I didn't exercise, he would prescribe additional medicine.  I reminded him that the last time he tried that, I learned a new word [akathisia - technical term for ants in your pants or skin crawling], which required two additional medicines to quiet down.

I only had one card left.... the last physician who suggested I exercise had to deal with the description of what happened when I tried.  How I watched the seconds portion of the display until my time was done.  How I sweated, groaned, then took a nap afterward.  He told me that it didn't seem worth it and I should stop exercising, if it caused me that much grief.

New Doc remained unimpressed.



So now I have to farking exercise.

He said all I had to do was ten or fifteen minutes of walking daily.  It was no big deal; he does it.  I reminded him that he was not morally opposed to exercise, as was I.  He sat there and continued to stare at me as if I had sprouted a third head.

Now every molecule in my body is screaming at me (and I haven't started exercising yet).  It goes against everything for which I stand: you know; land yachts, chocolate cream pie, and the sedentary lifestyle.

Wish me luck.