TV Judge, Judge lefty, Sentenced 12 to Death - Ratings Soar

Your love is like  one of those pedal exercisers that fat and old people use while sitting on the couch

As a result of the way too many inches of snow we got, the snow needed to be moved elsewhere.  I like to count on the sun to melt it, but that's like counting on myself not to eat that box of chocolate chip brownie cookies. It's ok - they're chewy and wonderful. I like to eat them for breakfast. Or any other meal, really. The problem is that they're sitting next to the chocolate chip cookies, which are also chewy and good for any meal. If I had OCD, I'd alternate them evenly, or in alphabetical order. Since I don't have OCD, I just shove them in my face. Unfortunately, this does absolutely nothing about moving snow around. It used to be called shoveling, but let's face it - all you do is move it around. It doesn't go away, it just moves, hopefully in the amount necessary to allow other things to move, like neighbors, the mailman, and most importantly, the UPS guy, who brings Mrs lefty daily gifts. Normally I'd be jealous, but all the gifts have "xxx Shopping Network" on the boxes. Then I just laugh at the whole situation... like the UPS guy could afford her. She knows what programs are on the shopping network at what time. She knows the presenters and models. She knows when her favorite seller is on. Guys, you know you're sunk when she says "that's a nice piece," instead of "that's a nice necklace."

We're immortal and unbreakable when we're little. We played contact sports on concrete. We took leaps over gym equipment and hit the floor with our heads, causing hundreds in floor damage. We moved snow away from our parents' cars and felt good about it. We kept tripping on the stairs and ramming our left knees into the concrete step. We didn't even think how that might hurt some day. As it turns out, we become somewhat less immortal and unbreakable as we (physically) grow up. We might even have proven to ourselves that we do break. We might have proven it to ourselves very painfully.

I can tell things have changed by the way I look out the window and say to myself, "No big deal - I can knock that out in 30 minutes." Apparently 'nearsighted' means you can only see things close to you, so when I got out to the snow, it looked like I could knock it out in an hour. Then when I started, I realized what I meant was this looks like it could take days. I'll bet you didn't know this, but snow gets larger the closer you are to it. So I'm standing in the aftermath of an alpine avalanche, trying to remember if the car's in there somewhere.

When we're young, we don't stop: we simply grab the shovel and keep going. We have bloody hands because Mom wasn't by the door to tell us to PUT ON YOUR GLOVES. We didn't care. Earlier in the day, Mrs lefty reminded my my new gloves were in the top drawer. Retaining some of my childhood, I went out without them. When I came back for them, they were not in the top drawer. They were also not in the middle drawer, or anywhere else in the entire house that had drawers. It's ok, I'm used to it. We have a motto: a place for everything, which changes daily.

Since I'm no longer little, the procedure changed a bit.

Shovel. Throw. Stand there. Ooph. Sigh. Repeat.

The standing and sighing parts got longer as I got further into the Impossible Dream. It took a day to get the sidewalk done. I thought about feeling accomplished, but the guys carrying the stretcher told me to just rest. "BUT I PUT PET-FRIENDLY SALT ON THE WALK," I told them. They told me I was a good boy and repeated their resting recommendation. 

The next day it was time to unearth (unsnow?) the car. I saw definite signs it was in the drive, covered by a small town's worth of snow. It was more bothersome because the snow obscured the dirt. A dirty car is reassuring. You know that if you clean the dirt off, it will rain, so why bother? On some cars, the dirt is the only thing holding it together, so there's that too.

Once again I looked out the window and said to myself this will take about 30 minutes. Once again I got closer to the snow and wanted to book a vacation. First I had to use Science to figure out which things to de-snow, so I didn't move the same snow 3 times. I'm used to cleaning snow off the car, but the frantic running around the car to move snow so the car can move is just demoralizing. Cleaning snow off the car is about all I'm ever up to anyway, but this was made easier by one of those Shopping Network boxes. It contained some sort of dingus that, when put together, would make snow removal from the car a breeze. Ok, it was a little easier, but that doesn't mean we have to subsidize the Shopping Network.

The real fun started when I had to remove the snow blocking the drive near the street. Because the plows like to MOVE the snow onto sidewalks and driveways, it was piled up over a foot. People talk about snowflakes never being alike, and their beauty, and I don't care what people talk about, 12" of snow is *$^@ing heavy. Especially when the temps fluctuate between snow and FREEZING. I was essentially moving a mixture of ice and snow, which was nothing like the large-breasted weathergirl meant when she said 'a mixture of ice and snow.'

Shovel. Throw. Stand there. Ooph. Sigh. Repeat.

I'm typing the above and thinking "Back on the Chain Gang," by the Pretenders. The sighing started extending to almost a crying, complete with cold weather sniffling.

Have I mentioned that I took off work today? I had gotten through some meetings and Mrs lefty took a look at me and said those lovely words, "You look like shit." A lot of people would be upset.. I love it. I need someone to tell me when I'm not feeling well and she does it well every time. So I left work early. Working at home, that means I walked out of my office and went back to bed.

When I got back up, I asked if I was feeling better. She said somewhat. I should have used that as an excuse to not shovel, but I'm not that fast on my feet.

So I'm shoveling, sighing, and cursing the lack of climate where I live. My hands are getting very cold. I'm questioning the sanity of living here and of pushing snow around. I'm also wondering why this is a priority, given that I'm almost sick and no one needs to drive anywhere for the foreseeable future. Oh, waitaminnit, I forgot... the pizza place doesn't deliver.

So I'm sweaty, sore, and have pain in parts of my body I didn't know I had. The guys with the stretcher were too busy to help, so I had to walk up my own steps. Every year we swear that Next Year, we're going to hire someone to mow and move snow. And every year, we fail.

And still, not even my wife can find my new gloves.

• I don't know if I should be proud or not, but I just asked the dog if she wanted to go outside and she ran away.

Gloves, incidentally, are a subset of socks. I don't actually lose socks to the Dryer Gods, I lose gloves. Not that it matters - since I was little, I haven't found a pair that keeps my hands warm. Every year, my very own Mrs. lefty pops up with a pair of gloves, whether I want them or not. I only use them for cleaning snow off cars. I can't remember, for the life of me, what I do with them when I'm done.. I know they make it into the house. From there, it's anybody's guess. For a while only 1 went missing. These days it's both. The last pair took a week. They don't go near the dryer or socks, they just go.

The US has made a business model of planned obsolescence. I wonder if we managed to do something with gloves... maybe they simply vanish after a certain number of uses. This keeps the glovemakers in business. It doesn't even matter how crappy they are. Some can even work with your phone. Cuz I know that's my main concern. I'm already ornery because I have to shovel - maybe I could stop and make some calls. Check my Faceyspaces. Send a few Snow Selfies to Instagram. Making heart hands in front of the snowed-in car.

---------------------------------

Just to put a Final F- You on things, it snowed again. Many inches. I am going to need to speak to somebody about this.  It is unacceptable. All that unnecessary snow moving has to be repeated.

Kids used to knock on your door, asking if you need your walk shoveled. I guess parents feel differently these days, because instead of making himself a pile of cash, little doughy Bobbie is drinking Red Bull, playing video games, and watching the pre-pre-post-pre game show.

• it turned out the Super Bowl was yesterday after all
• I need to stay on top of sports.
• No I don't.

PANIC 

The Flying AIDS is evolving to avoid immune responses. If we follow the science, some of us will eventually ask which science. If this particular science gets trotted out, it will be useful. What has it evolved to? Some strains laugh at the vaccines. Others pretend they're the first strain, but won't react to the shot. One strain pretends to react to the vaccine, but when nobody's looking, it comes back as a rash on the perineum. Another strain joined forces with Chlamydia, and is now called Super Flying AIDS (no matter what you do, you're fucked). The last strain drains the brain and gets you a job at the CDC or WHO.

According to the UK regulator, almost all the side effects of the vaccines are mild and expected. Almost.

According to the US regulator, all the side effects are expected, and if you disagree, you're a conspiracy theory anti-vaxxer, and they'll slit your tires and key your car.

Today the president  held a cabinet meeting. He interrupted it and went on a screaming tangent when he discovered there were still a few minorities not represented. He left the room, instructing his people that when the new minorities were hired, everyone had to be sat boy, girl, boy, girl. Then he corrected himself: boy, girl, non-binary, boy, girl, indeterminate...

• My senile mother called today to talk to Mrs. lefty about something because she knows Mrs. lefty forgets things....

Today the Russians  along with the Chinese, broke further into the federal payroll system. They caused no damage when they found out what we pay our employees. Everybody had a great laugh. Except the federal employees being paid to keep the Russians and Chinese out.

• The BBC has an article on 6 Bristol women, on the same side of the street, who became pregnant.
• Let's see... lockdown for a year... women get pregnant, baby boom (I'm a covid baby)
• It's like the BBC is psychic or something

Those poor Amazon employees are getting Bezos'd again... the factory people were getting Flying AIDS at an amazing rate. Now the drivers will be monitored with videocams and AI. Every new idea has to use AI. Even if it doesn't, they have to use AI in the description. At this point, the cameras will monitor driving, like going through stop signs or too fast. After the breakin period, drivers will be required to pin cameras to their uniform, like police, to see the happy faces of people getting packages. If they're not happy, the driver will be penalized. If they get bitten by a dog, that's a penalty. If they stay too long at a house.. penalty. If they dally while using the bathroom, double penalty. If they get invited into a house to 'deliver a package,' that's a triple penalty, plus Amazon retains the rights to the video.

• The military took over in Myanmar after claims of election fraud
• In America, all social media banned talk of election fraud, and the news labeled it false if they spoke of it
• I'm not saying there was fraud. I'm saying look at the results. We are a free country.

Mainstream or Pr0n?  Locked Down, Wildest Islands, Filling Up the Babysitter, The Little Things

White House spokesperson Jen Psaki was ordered to change the spelling of her last name, so it doesn't start with 2 consonants. America isn't ready for this, said the president. Afterwards, Jen Pasaki confirmed the White House's support for Artemis, the next Moon landing. When asked why we're going back, she said that this time, there would be a woman walking on the Moon. 

She went on to say that once a year, Congress agrees on something (that doesn't involve their income) and NASA got lucky this year, with trillions of dollars of taxpayer money, so a man and woman can go back to the Moon, then Mars. For the Mars trip, there will be a diverse, all female crew. Congress threatened to revolt (because they are pretty revolting) if they didn't include one man, so there will be a trans woman too. She used to be a man and Congress can suck it.

They will wear masks and socially distance so they don't spread the Flying AIDS on the Moon, or to the aliens.

Today I identify as   that white stuff that gets all over battery contacts when it leaks

• It's been a lot of years since we got the whole keyboard mouse thing together. And it seems like further development/improvement is sitting in the back of the closet somewhere, feeling lonely.
• There are a few mouse adaptations for people with wrist issues
• Ergonomic keyboards are years old
• There are 'gamer' keyboards, which light up in colors and cost a lot more because they say 'gamer' on them
• that's it? 

Work is fun lately. Work is always fun.

Every year at this time, and you probably get it too, is the Best Places to Work survey. We are 'encouraged' to fill it out anonymously, of course. If we forget, we continue to get messages to anonymously fill it out. Sometimes I think the survey is less anonymous than they say...  

And then there's Black History Month. I thought I got the better of Whatever History Month by blocking the person who sends them out. But they showed me - other addresses sent them out. As a result, I got 7 emails, casually letting me know what month it is. To put the cherry on top, these are important addresses, so I can't block them. I was specifically advised not to request a Left Handed History Month from the person announcing what month it is. I feel entitled to it, but I feel entitled to my job too. My last job had many history months. They might've given me a Left Handed History Month, but it was an insane asylum, which wasn't a tradeoff I wanted to make. They had Black History Month, but they couldn't count, and the month was 364 days long. They had specific rules that there were no political signs allowed to be hung up. Unless they were Obama signs. Strangely, the people who didn't vote for him didn't say anything. Meanwhile, the place looked like the DNC, so I took the opportunity to needle them whenever I could. It's not generally a good idea to needle your boss, but he was a great guy.

So now I have to figure out how to block whatever History Month it is. I guess I could block History or Month, but who knows what I'd miss. Last month I missed a day off, but that might be because my friends in the front office like to mess with me and tend to leave my name off certain emails...

• Happy Birthday to Vinnie Colaiuta, one of the most frightening drummers on the planet. Toured and recorded with Jeff Beck and a ton of others.

started as a protest against Instagram pulling adult pics, wound up occupying the jail

ThermionicEmissions 

• the story of one man's slow descent into madness
• unofficial humor source of the illuminati

Good Thing I Have a Job

I'm going to try something new today. You know how they say you should never go food shopping when you're hungry?  'They' also say you should never blog when pissed.  Well here I goooooooooo......

I have to tell you, I have absolutely NO IDEA how you single people get stuff done. We have a very equitable distribution of duties at our house but with my wife taking the week off 'elsewhere', I am the lone biped.  As such, I am in charge of the house and the two quadrupeds. Let me describe my day...

YESTERDAY:

Off to work by eight.
Off to home at four.
Stop by credit union to deposit last week's paycheck.
Credit union, which my wife told me closes at six, closes at four thirty. I got there at four thirty five. Mind you, this is the mortgage payment.
Spitting blood, I go home.

Once home, I am greeted by all sorts of Cat Detritus. For reasons known only to Beelzebub, the cat has taken to peeing on puppy pads. Then he wraps them up around a small rug in a knot and I get to untangle them and deposit them in the trash, replacing with a new one for him to foul.  Later, while cleaning the cat box, I find a pair of gloves. I have no idea why.

The dog is so happy to see me, he runs to the door because he wants to go out. But of course he wants to go out - he's been in the house all day, you are thinking. It's no big emergency as he has already shit on the kitchen floor. While carrying it to the toilet, some leaps out onto the floor.

"This isn't turning out well," I say to myself; in quite different words, at a ridiculously high volume.

Dog comes in and runs to the cat bowl, to lick out every last quantum molecule of cat food. The cat, meanwhile, is eating the dog's food. Funny as Cat Foot Ballet is, the cat shouldn't be eating the dog's food because he's f-ing diabetic. So I tell him to get out of the dog food. Absolutely no effect. GET OUT OF THE DOG FOOD. He doesn't even twitch. GET OUT OF THE F-ING DOG FOOD OR I WILL KILL YOU, combined with rapid motion toward the dog food bowl does the trick.

Speaking of diabetes, the cat needs shots twice a day. This is something I cannot do so a very kind niece helps (although she didn't help last night). When he misses shots, the peeing all over the house starts.

Undaunted, the cat jumps up on the couch next to me and starts pawing and pricking me, wanting attention. This cat is obviously lacking in empathy. At this point, I'd rather play Feline Aviation than pet him.  I gently pick him up and move him to the other side of the couch. Undaunted a second time, he immediately comes back, purring as loudly as he can, trying to get up my butt.  I move him again. He comes back again. I move him a third time and he comes most of the way back, sneaking over half an inch or less, til he can touch me. And purr loudly. So loudly I can't concentrate (ok, let's face it, I can't concentrate too well to begin with).  The dog, with his best I wasn't doing anything Dad look, leaps up on the couch and does not purr.

An hour later, I'm off to the Happy Place<tm>, for our single hour visit.
Then home to cook, straighten, and yell some more.

TODAY:

I lefty work early to make sure I could get to the credit union before closing. In spite of the fact that no one stops for stop signs, I made it(!).  I deposited my check, which my wife told me goes in as cash, and the teller tellers me that it will take two days to clear.  I asked why paychecks didn't go in as cash. She looked confused for a bit then asked me where the check tearoff was. Out in the car, of course. So I ran to the car (it's snowing at this point), only to find it's back at home, where I left it. Back to the counter, it goes in as a check, to clear in two days.  Have I mentioned this is my mortgage payment? Spitting bullets AND blood, I go home.

I'm surprised they didn't call the police at that point.  When I hit the parking lot, I gave the entire neighborhood a lesson in Screamonics. I continued all the way home, questioning the credit union's parentage and noting that the check will clear for them immediately but I have to wait two days. This is why I stopped going to banks.

When I get home, I am greeted by all sorts of Cat Detritus. There is a puppy pad, wrapped around a small rug. And in the cat box is the pair of gloves. I continue to have no idea why.  Does he wipe with them? Do they make him feel more comfortable while he's excreting?

The dog then runs to the door again. And once again, he has shit on the floor. This is the weirdest deja vu I have ever had.

Then the cat jumps up on the sofa, purring, and tries to physically attach himself to me. This horrid rerun is brought to you by the Philly Credit Union, where no cats are ever hurt via banking. The dog is smart enough to make himself scarce when I go off. The cat, not so much.

LAST NIGHT:

Things are lovely at the Happy Place<tm>.  Walking in the door was not a smart idea in the first place, considering my mood. Where is my wife's hoagie from the previous day? Some idiot threw it out (probably after eating it). Why is my wife tired? Her first roommate spent her entire time coughing up a lung. When she left, they moved the Sandwich Stealer in, whose other hobby is snoring. Loudly and constantly. They had to give out earplugs (I am not kidding). Later that night, the idiot threw out someone else's sandwich.

Where is the staff?  I sure see them a lot. They suggest to keep sandwiches in their fridge. Do they discipline the Sandwich Stealer? No.  When Nina Jesus'd everyone to death and threw liquid at someone, did they move her? No.  Pardon my math and lack of psychological experience but why are the malcontents allowed to destabilize the entire unit? Where is the accountability? Over with Obama's accountability. I informed my wife that sometimes people trip. Perhaps the Sandwich Stealer tripped and hit her head on the wall three or four times. These things happen.

So here I am, ready to go visit for that generous hour and I'm in quite a Mood. Worse than yesterday. I sure hope they don't keep me.

Then it's shopping and dinner and lunch for tomorrow.  Only three more days of this heaven.

You betcha I'm pissed.


P.S. And just as I'm finishing this up, the f-ing BROWSER CRASHES. I am being pushed too far.

EDIT:  I found out some High Mucketymuck at the hospital came down personally to badger and intimidate my wife for copays. Someone will answer for this.