Icky Poo

It's been a busy, crappy time here at Happy House.

My very smart child, with a history of requiring all sorts of different foods to convince him to take his medicine, has taken to getting the food in his mouth, then spitting it out if he feels a pill. Once on the floor, he eats the food and leaves the pill. This is the one time I wish he wasn't so smart. He has a Pile O Pills to take and it's so difficult to get them in, we might only get his pain pills in. We were advised to keep feeding him chicken, but put some rice it with it. It's ok to spice or sweeten it, so long as it gets in. We've established he wants nothing to do with peas.

Things were fine but something else developed, naturally. He's very unhappy. Two vet visits later, there's arthritis (that we knew about) and a urinary tract infection (which we obviously didn't). Vet said he can have oral meds at one price or an injection at a higher price. She didn't get that out of her mouth before INJECTION was chosen. He's just fine with needles - he sits through acupuncture. More pain meds to follow on the third visit. As I type, he's plunging his left paw into his water bowl and moving the water outside of the bowl. We're not sure why he likes to perform Water Moving activities, but there are a number of ideas, none interesting enough to mention.

The wife is a mess because he keeps her up all night, which puts her in a bad spot during the day. I think she secretly prefers this, as she doesn't have to put up with me if she sleeps during the day and I sleep at night. I'd certainly like it.

And me? I'm unhappy and terrified of losing my best friend. 

Oddly enough, he's not suffering from the cancer - currently it's the other stuff.  But he will not be allowed to suffer.

Today he went with his mommy to pick up his new pain meds. The entire office stopped what they were doing: the vet techs came out of the exam rooms, the staff came out from behind the counter, all to see Marshall. The practice owner came out, looked at what was happening and said, "It's the million dollar dog." This happens wherever he goes. And I am assured it has nothing to do with the vacation home we helped finance or the new Range Rover we paid for most of.

• As an update to the Art Bell story, the other night was the first time Midnight in the Desert was live since Art's death. I made an effort to tune in because I wanted to hear Heather Wade, post-tragedy. Wasn't I surprised to discover Heather was not the host that night. Furthermore, she resigned, as it were. There was a new host. Good luck to him... it was a bit shocking for the fans. Heather apparently was pretty shocked by Art's death. I'll miss her, but I think she'll be back at it again, just not on Midnight.

In a shocking statistic, NSA warrantless searches are up over 40%.

Ok, maybe it's not really all that shocking.

That's citizens' phone calls and online messages. Without a warrant. Due to a 'loophole'. There's more data here.

• A malicious message can crash WhatsApp and possibly your Android/iOS phone itself. Don't use WhatsApp. Yeah, that's gonna happen.

The Pentagon has banned the sale of Chinese phones at military exchanges over security risks. Really? These guys really jump on an issue. BUT WAIT, there's more: personnel haven't been banned from using the phones yet, but that may come. So let's review, shall we? It is verboten to sell Chinese phones but not to use them. Once again, I warn readers to exercise caution when shaking their heads: vigorous head-shaking can cause neck injuries.

• REMINDER: if you use Twitter, change your password. Twitter screwed the pooch and made your password visible to at least their employees. So until they screw up something else, change your password. NOW please.

It's a plain shame that the hair on top of my head does not have the tenacity of the hair on my ears.

• Do you ever wonder why all states haven't legalized marijuana yet? Why the War on Drugs isn't a relic of the past? Here's a 'top story', with a feel-bad angle that if Illinois legalizes pot, 275 drug dogs will be out of a job.
• Now, extrapolate this to personnel, expensive equipment and General Infrastructure required for the War on Drugs and you have your answer.

I like Stone Temple Pilots a lot. Their sheer variety is impressive. Not so much their Big Hits, but the lesser known songs, plus their ability to sound different on every song. I'm ordering the new album, with their new singer today, after hearing a song from it on the radio.  

Their original singer, Scott Weiland, took himself out a short time back, probably the victim of self-medicating his bipolar disorder (speculation mine). To look at him was to figure out why their output was so varied. One night he had yellow hair, the next he was dressed as a stormtrooper. He was a very energetic, engaging front man, with a lot more vocal talent than people thought.

Every now and then a solo song from Scott will pop up in my music rotation and I'll reflect on how delightfully odd and interesting his songs are. Definitely worth a listen and a purchase.

STP had an interesting relationship with the Howard Stern show. Scott would get clean, the band would go on the show to perform, then Scott would run out and fall off the wagon with vigor. It may have happened more than once.

Three Cheers!

A New Jersey high school is making headlines with its new rule that everybody makes the cheerleading squad or no one does. Yes, snowflakes, now's the time to  be a cheerleader! Reap the fabulous benefits of being tossed in the air and missed by some kid that could barely lift himself out of bed this morning.

Differently abled? Not to worry - your cheermates will be required to hold your wheelchair up in the air during the human pyramid. Are you a typical depressed teenager who can't muster the energy to smile, no less cheer? You can stand behind the basketball team. Hey - do you smoke a lot of wacky weed and take a lot of pills without a prescription? Well drop that guitar and pick up a tuba, because the band's hiring too! Girls - could you stand to lose a few pounds? Afraid they don't make uniforms in your size? With all-access cheerleading, you're still screwed!

Surprisingly enough, the loudest group against the school's latest brilliant idea is the developmentally delayed. They realized that they'd be on the same level as dumb blonde cheerleaders and football players, and don't want to stoop that low. 

• It's a good thing she got that runny nose from allergies checked out. She was leaking brain fluid. She didn't recognize it because she didn't know she had a brain. To be fair, she saw a lot of doctors without brains too, all of whom failed to diagnose her correctly.

But But But Butt

But is a very powerful word and you must be on the lookout for it at all times.

It doesn't mean what you think it means. To fulfill my self-imposed obligation to educate and entertain (mostly entertain), I have put together a translator, just for you.

I don't mean to bother you, but.....   I truly enjoy bothering you.

I don't want to waste your time, but.....  Look at me wasting your time!

I know that you hate social media, but....  You will now look at cute cat pictures.

Just today, Wife said, "Not that you're interested, but the 76ers...."

If you know I'm not interested, why do you continue to tell me about it?

Not that you're interested, but...  I'm going to keep talking whether you want to hear me or not.

I know you'd rather not read about skin care, but....   Here's a less than clever segue into a story about pimples.

I suppose it happens to everyone at some point in their lives, but I never thought it would happen to me. I have passed the Acne Years by a few (decades) and thought I was safe.  But when you let your guard down is when They get you.

I have a blackhead.

[phew]

Even during the Acne Years I never had a blackhead. Is it because I'm white?

Where does one even get a blackhead?

How TF should I know?

I took a guess, not being an expert on skin care. It was black. I went with blackhead. Wife was proud.

Apparently you're not supposed to pop them, like whiteheads. Funny aside: Reddit has a subreddit called popping, which has pictures and video of people popping pimples and doctors doing procedures to open/remove the skin disturbances. It's enough to make you eat your pet rock.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, no popping.

So I tried popping for a few weeks. No luck.

After all that trauma, I consulted an expert: a woman. Women just know stuff and this is one of those things - anything to do with skin care or deep gashes that require stitches or how to apply makeup to you so you'll look adorable. Naturally the wife.  Wife handed me a bottle and said, "Put this stuff on it a few times a day. It dries things out."

I may not be a smart man or a good looking man or... wait.. where was I?

but I know who I want to sleep with me, so I used the stuff in the expensive-looking bottle. I have no idea what it cost, but I know it was expensive. Anything you apply to your skin is expensive, especially Eeyore band-aids (yes).  

Of course I needed a course in application. The stuff in the bottle had separated so I went to shake it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wife flying through the air, like some deranged German ninja. She grabbed the bottle and told me "NO - YOU DON'T SHAKE IT!"

I should have known. Ok, I'll play: Why not?

Because you don't.

Ah.

You stick the Qtip in, pushing it into the sediment at the bottom. Then put it on your nose. So for the last few days, I've been walking around with a small patch of skin on my nose, six shades whiter than my skin. Even though it's hard to imagine anything lighter than my skin, this stuff takes the cake. One time it dripped, making me look even more like a cracked-out coke user on acid.

After a few days, I mentioned to Wife that it wasn't working all that well. I based this upon my scientific observation that the little bastard was still there. I felt safe with this bit of science (which I should not have).

"Well did you wash your face first?"

No, why?

"You're supposed to wash your face first!"

You didn't mention that. You showed me the stuff in the expensive-looking bottle and explained its application. And NOT TO SHAKE IT.

"You have to use the pads. It's not going to work on a dirty nose."

What pads? (knowing this wasn't going to be pretty)

"The little white ones."

What little white ones?

[hands me a package of wipey cloths with expensive-smelling stuff on them] "Here. You wash with these, don't forget to DRY, then apply the stuff in the expensive-looking bottle."

Oh. I shoulda known that. Sorry.

[it's always best to end with an apology, in addition to starting with an apology, regardless of whether it was your fault or not. trust me.]

So here I am, two days into washing, looking stupid, and continuing to have a blackhead.

What I don't know is that this treatment will not rid me of blackheads. 

My wife bet my mother that she could get me to walk around with a splotch on my face for two weeks.

• I remembered to take out the trash this week. It was momentous. I don't know about you, but I think I deserve a pizza and some ice cream. And a bj.

You know that one of the things I hate most in life is mowing the lawn.

As we have not yet made arrangements with the budding teenage capitalist who did the job last year, it fell to me. You'd think after all these years, my wife would KNOW this isn't a good idea. Even more dumb is the guy who went ahead and did it.

Things have come a long way. The electric mower we had would actually stall. It stalled even faster when the wife ran over the cord. The gas mowers did battle with me, like my old cars used to: it was anyone's guess whether they'd start or not, much like John McCain. My enterprising spouse did a lot of research and came up with a Worx* battery powered mower. It's much smaller than a real mower and is made out of orange and black plastic, like some large child's toy mower. You charge up the 24v battery, literally drop it in, and mow. Because it's small, it weighs very little. Because it's mine, it needs to cut grass taller than its handle. When you're done, take the battery out and let the kids play with it. Or, if you're really after variety, leave the battery in.

I'm very lucky the wife didn't do this much research on husbands before she selected.

In related news, I went from Full Couch to Full Mow in a minute.

I'm typing this on the emergency room's free internet.

*I don't get paid for this, but if they offer, I'll accept.

Oh shut up -  I mowed this week

Art Bell

We're forced to say goodbye to another legend, long before his time.
King of the paranormal nighttime airwaves, Art Bell, left us on Friday the 13th. He was 72 and the cause of death is unknown; an autopsy will be performed.

Art created the nighttime show Coast to Coast AM, which aired on hundreds of stations across American and Canada. Who is on the road at strange hours of the morning? Truckers. Art became a favorite of truckers and anyone else up overnight. He had a very balanced view on most topics, including whatever his guests brought with them, but he was always fair.

Art was a ham (amateur radio operator, W6OBB) and could be heard now and then on 80meters, chatting with others. There's a recording, possibly on YouTube, of Art 'broadcasting', which consists largely of loud snoring. He fell asleep at the transmitter.

His main foil and partner was his wife, Ramona, who would pop on air now and then, but mainly was stuff of legend. She passed around 2006. Art met Airyn in the Philippines and eventually married her, staying there for a while until returning home to Pahrump, NV, near Area 51. They have a daughter.

Wikipedia lists cause of death as complications from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder. This might make sense, in light of his chronic obstructive smoking. Even publicity pics featured a cigarette. Ramona Bell died from asthma, I believe.
--
Art featured it all: from local wiccans to conspiracies to a pilot calling from a small plane, venturing into Area 51's no fly zone (probably a hoax but great listening). Another famous story was Mel's Hole, featuring (oddly enough) Mel, who discovered a hole on his property. He'd throw significant things down the hole and never hear anything to indicate it hit. After he went away for a few days, guys in uniform without patches suggested he did not want to live there anymore and he was kicked off his own land.

Mad Man Markum was a handy guy. He bought, stole, and cobbled together something he called a time machine. Judging from what he used to build it, I'd worry less about time travel than serious electrocution. He used transformers that power companies use.

Jonathan Reed took his dog out for a walk, when he came upon something that had landed. His dog went nuts on a thing walking around the landed object and the thing killed the dog. Reed shot the thing, brought it back to his house, and put it in his freezer. This was the start of all sorts of intrigue, involving all sorts of unmarked vans, aliens waking up in a freezer and banging to get out, unnamed agencies, and lots of guns.

You can read about all of these events and decide for yourself if any happened or were hoaxes. They were certainly good listening.

Father Malachi Martin, an Irish priest who might've been an exorcist, was a frequent guest, and a very interesting one. One night he talked about multiple personalities being a real disorder and not being caused by demons. You have to respect a man like that. He was very intelligent and fun to listen to.

Art had a series of odd events happening, usually around retiring and returning to radio. One involved a lawsuit around his son. He stayed permanently retired from Coast to Coast AM, where George Noory resides (who has a phenomenal Indian rug). George, to put it politely, isn't as exciting or endearing as Art.

Finally Art decided to go his own way and start broadcasting from home, over shortwave and internet, hoping to build up another network of stations. In the evening, due to atmospheric conditions, high power AM stations can travel hundreds of miles. I listened to a Boston station in Maryland clearly. This can help popularize shows. Within a very short time, there were gunshots outside of his house and the police were called. I don't know if it was ever solved, but Art did not want to put his family in jeopardy, so he left, continuing to advise and record promos.

There were other suspicious happenings on the air. Whole transmission lines would go down during interesting guests. Segments of the show would magically disappear. One might expect that certain people or agencies would be upset with him, but if you stop and think about it, he wasn't bringing Top Secret Stuff out. Yet this interference persisted.

Thrust into the hot seat was Heather Wade, the former producer of the show. Heather has an incredible on-air voice, is very pleasant, asks good questions, and seems to be well liked. Just days ago she said she purchased Art's guest house and moved from what I believe was the Northwest. She has the ThermionicEmissions seal of approval (yippee for her). I listen most nights. For info, go to Midnightinthedesert.com

Art won the Snuffed Candle Award from the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry's Council for Media Integrity, for propagating bullshit. If you piss CSI off, you're doing a great job. They consist of Michael "don't bother me when I've made my mind up" Shermer and Seth "I'm completely scientific when I say it doesn't exist" Shostak, head of SETI.


We bid the king farewell and thanks for all those nights. We hope he has the answers now. And that they allow smoking wherever he is.