The Only Blog with Hyaluronic Acid!

 

Your love is like  unexploded ordnance 

What's the only thing dumber than a Philadelphia voter?

Two Philadelphia voters.

Today I identify as  Micellar water, which goes so well with hyaluronic acid

Quite a few of us are introverts. We quake in fear of having to go to parties and social events. We might be in the corner, reading a book or checking our 17 email addresses on our phone. We desperately want to avoid social interaction. Let us assume, just for a second, that this is a less than positive behavior. How do we appear to be good guests, without trying too hard or running for the door like a lion after an IRS agent? It just came to me... perhaps a few well-chosen phrases will start conversation, or at least make people think you're witty enough to invite to their party. Oh..., that would be self-defeating, wouldn't it?  How about a few key phrases to distract attention from your inclination to tell them all to do something physically impossible and morally uncertain? The first key to conversation is to say something (duh) that will prompt further conversation. People are generally stupid and narcissistic, so they'll take any opportunity to talk about themselves. Give them one phrase and you have something that some people will misconstrue as 'conversation.'  Let me think of a few....

• There sure is a lot of weather out there.
• Hey, how bout them [insert sports team]. Sometimes I just say "How bout those insert sports team." Many people won't even hear what you said and will take off about some sports team. The only downside is that people will take off about some sports team.
• How about that new Intel 12th generation architecture? If you can't join them, bore them. Ask about chips and you will eventually start a stampede for the bar. They won't bother you again. This is brilliant strategy.
• Good evening kill your pets.  People only hear the first few syllables of anything you say (or email)
• Where did you get that dress? This confuses the hell out of men.
• Keeping one eye open much wider than the other, ask hypothetically how they'd take out a public figure. For some reason, people avoid you when you look mentally questionable or completely unhinged. Warning: this could backfire and someone who read this list will make suggestions and YOU will have to retreat.
• Hey, how bout that new War and Peace sequel?
• I sure hope the Phillies tank. Traffic is bad enough as it stands. Plus the yahoos climbing greased poles and turning trucks over will just continue to ruin our already trashy reputation.

REMINDER: for all you using Signal for your encrypted messaging, you will need a regular old SMS messaging program shortly. Signal will only handle its own protocol. It's still the only way to go. If you have any suggestions for non-invasive SMS clients, please send it in comments (especially if it won't display emojis).

RIP comedian Gallagher, of smashing watermelons (76), in hospice with organ failure.  

 

RIP Dan McCafferty (76), instantly identifiable singer of Nazareth (Love Hurts, Hair of the Dog)

I must've been bored and just didn't know it.

I heard this cracking noise, which I desperately wanted to ignore. It was near the hinge of my laptop. I handled it very gently. It behaved. But that should have been the warning I needed; nothing behaves here - computer, dog, or people. Rather than annoy it, I left it alone and used my old laptop, which hasn't had any of these problems in its long years of use. I figured if I left the newer laptop alone for a weekend, it would enjoy the vacation and exorcise the nasty juju from it. That was stupid. By Monday the entire display had gone Almost Black (yes, it's a color). I don't have time to be stunned anymore, nor could I be, so I just shook my head and tried the monitor I had plugged in. Unfortunately I had to figure out how to move the icons, panels, 'start' button, and the armadillos to the right monitor. This is not easy, but I got it done in an hour. People who know what they're doing can do it in 5 minutes. Then I had to communicate with the laptop and give it the bad news about its display. This is never an easy thing to do and you never know how the rest of the computer will react. Finally I convinced it that it should send everything to the right monitor, as opposed to its display. Naturally during bootup, everything comes up on the laptop display, so I have to log in by feel and memory, neither of which I have much of. 

As if that weren't enough, I promptly forgot what I was going to type next. The doctors tell me this is perfectly normal, only they won't tell me what it's perfectly normal for.

And furthermore, as if THAT weren't enough, I now have an interminable delay when I type or click or sneeze, which is really embarrassing. So my main computer is now delayed by several seconds. While this is perfectly normal for a spouse, it's unworkable for a computer. So now it's time for troubleshooting. There is nothing hogging the processor, no network traffic, and plenty of memory. Well, that's about it for me. I made a linux live usb, which the computer will boot to and run a live version of linux, without the hard drive. This helps evaluate the operating system or diagnose it. You know what's coming next, right? The computer won't boot to the usb drive, whether it's a BIOS setting or some other reason. Naturally I can't GET to the BIOS setting because the display is broken. So I'd have to troubleshoot the troubleshooting, but I just don't have the intestinal fortitude for that. Or the coffee. 

The problem doesn't look like it can be resolved at home. My initial idea was to resolve the problem in the Bahamas, but I suspect I won't have better luck there. I guess it's back to the manufacturer for a new display (costing roughly as much as the Bahamas resolution). Once my head stops hurting and I can see again, I need to take the hard drives out, so they don't see my hamster pr0n. I'd rather keep that to myself (and my readers, who would never tell anyone, right?). JFC. We won't even begin to discuss my penchant for keeping original boxes, in case something breaks.  We won't discuss it because of Wife's penchant for throwing things out.

Born under a bad sign

I been down since I began to crawl

If it wasn't for bad luck

I wouldn't have no luck at all.

My mother is a very smart lady. She makes my favorite chocolate chip cookies in the world, along with an incredibly heavy chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream icing. When Wife asked for the cake recipe, Mom said it was on the back of the cocoa box. She kept saying that and forgetting to show how to make the chocolate chip cookies. Here is where the sheer genius in her plan comes out: she has dementia and couldn't give up a recipe if she wanted to. She will take it to her grave. Brilliant.

Best lyrics this week: And as I stand here at your door, my knees are all a-knock.

-Dan Baird 

Speaking of Tesla, and we usually are, a new item surfaced, having nothing to do with exploding batteries. Tesla is installing Zoom in its new cars.This way you can clearly see the last face you'll ever see when you're not looking at the road because you're not too bright and think Driver Assist means Auto Drive. Or because you have the attention span of a 2 year old. Either way, this is a brilliant idea on the part of Tesla, which will rid us of thousands more of their drivers. Just to make everything right with the universe, as the car crashes, the battery blows up.

Since we've had our daily Tesla shot, it's time for Zoom. Zoom is a marketing company full of liars, with a product designed for marketing and with security as an afterthought.

The other day I donned my armor and small thermonuclear device in order to deal with my arch nemesis - the washer. This was only my second time doing battle with the cursed beast, as Wife was away. I think she just likes to see me terrified. I got the small (4") binder with the instructions and went to face it, my courage having peaked a few hours previous, while putting on the armor. Have you ever tried to put on armor? Don't. It chafes in places you'd rather not have chafing. It's difficult to fight the enemy with chafing in your..... never mind, you get it.

It's not enough I had to do battle - it's worse when there are unforeseen obstacles. There was already a load in the washer. Thinking quickly, I decided the best course was putting it in the dryer (this is why I make the Big Bucks). Unfortunately I had a double unforeseen on my hands; the dryer was also full. Because there were 2 full loads, there was not a single wash basket to be found.  How does she do this? I emptied the dryer and, with no other place to put it, dropped the load on the floor (this is a test to see if she's reading the blog).  The washed load did not smell like seafood (or tires), so it went into the dryer.  When all was done, I had a pile of folded clean laundry, even though I "don't fold right." This situation was made moot when the dog completely tore everything apart and laid on it, because no clothing is complete without a generous coating of dog hair. I tell you this not for the congrats on my battle, but because in all this wash, my clothes are still missing. She had been doing wash for an entire week and she doesn't know either. I dare not ask what she was washing or has she seen my clothes anytime recently or WHY she hasn't seen my clothes... my body just can't stand the injuries.

So, my clothes are still in the No Clothes Zone<tm>. I have (or had) enough t-shirts to bring down the Russian army, but nobody knows where they are.  Perhaps in a different universe, some dude is wondering where buttloads of really cool t-shirts have appeared from. We asked award-winning NYU theoretical physicist Michio Kaku for a possible theory and if this is an example of string theory. He thought about it for a while, nodding and shaking his head, and replied, "How TF should *I* know?" That was theoretical physicist Michio Kaku. Abandoning alternate universe stringy theories, I wondered if it was theft. Nah, why only my t-shirts? They're cool but not that cool. Why not Wife's 'special' underwear? Or any of 4 billion dog toys? Money. Guitars. No, just t-shirts and some jeans. Have we been robbed by a second hand store? Nah- no women's clothes gone. I hired a forensic team to examine the area around the washer for evidence of dark wash, but they found nothing. It's the perfect Wash Disappearance.  In fact, nobody knows if this is even a crime. Just to be certain, next week we're bringing in Jethro from NCIS. He couldn't make it this week because his Team Weirdo quit and he needs to find a new one. Haven't you noticed all of those shows have the Team Weirdo, geek, odd person, woman with so much makeup there are cosmetics commercials targeted just to her?

Fortunately I still have socks.  Unfortunately this is because Wife bought me more, despite my observation that it was cheaper to wash them than pull a Jerry Lewis, who would never wear socks a second time. If I find no socks this week, I'll be forced to assume they've run away with the darks.  Another theory is that a woman who finds me attractive keeps stealing my clothes, in hopes of seeing me naked. There are 2 problems with this theory: 1. all she'd have to do is ask  2. there are no women who find me attractive, including and especially Mrs. lefty.

So the search continues, with night-vision goggles, ghost-hunting beepy boxes, torches, a crystal ball in the shape of a boobie, model glue (that I picked a bad week to stop sniffing), and 12 failed contestants from the Masked Furry. I don't stand a chance.

NASA will leave its $4.1 billion rocket outside as Nicole approaches Florida

How many times have I told you not to leave your rocket outside during a storm? Do you have any idea what those things cost? If you keep this up, your Uncle Joe will have to start taxing us every time we go to the bathroom. You never see the Air Force leaving planes out in a storm. The Army doesn't leave M-16s out. Only NASA. If you do this one more time, I'm going to take your rocket away and give it to the Welsh, whose silly accents will make any communications impossible.

The Tale of a Demented Bread Boffer

 Your love is like  what is the name of those peppers... they're hotter than habaneros, and they make your foot hair fall out....

I haven't done drugs since I was a teen. Now, it's just the prescribed kind, which are sometimes way worse. Like the illegal ones, I have weird side effects. This one hit me over the head like a rocket launcher. At least I got some sleep... about 14 hours' worth. I'm not a doctor (or an airline pilot) but I suspect a smaller dose is warranted. I'd call the doctor, but this is the weekend and doctors don't return calls on weekends (or any day ending in -y). I'm going to make the Executive Decision to halve the dose. This amuses my wife because I sit there, trying to cut the already tiny pill in half. After a half hour, she's already gone from the house, due to the screaming and destruction of walls and concrete walkways. If I don't manage a lower dose, work will be 'interesting,' I'll be a large zombie, incapable of getting anything done. Hey - I'll fit right in with the others! No problem, mon! In fact I'm typing this while asleep.

Executive Decisions are fun. They empower you. Even if you have no flipping idea what you're doing. Screw the doctors! I suspect this gets me in trouble a lot. I freely admit I'm not smarter than the doctor.... but... sometimes I play smarter than the doctor. If it's a particularly prickly day, sometimes I'll tell the doctor they're wrong while we're in the appointment (small wonder they don't return my calls). This is called Problem Patient. I prefer not to think of myself as a Problem Patient so much as a really cute, intelligent, inquisitive patient (who doesn't get calls returned).  The problem here (for the doctor) is that I'm frequently right. This really angers Mrs. lefty, who I tell I'm always right. 

So I make a few Executive Decisions. Let's just say it's a good thing I can't prescribe myself any medicine. The last Executive Decision I made involved some decorating. Any decision I make around decorating is a Bad Decision [this is called a segue. It's a particularly bad segue, worthy of Monty Python, but not quite]. You see, I was born without the decorating gene. I am a freak of genetics. The scientists are baffled, because the decorating (and the clean) gene has been in my family for generations. I suspect it just needed a generation off, but the problem here is that I don't have kids, so the decorating/design and clean genes essentially committed suicide).

To make matters worse, I married a woman who also has no design gene, due to a car crash when she was little. Together, we could not design or place a small trash can, no less a house. I was repeatedly told the large red air compressor and large blue tube tester had no place in the living room, nor did the 'art project' involving transmissions. Mind you, I was not told this by the person I was married to - she agreed to it all. Some call her an enabler, I call her Sweetheart.

Every six months or so, we get the designing bug. Like my mother, we don't learn by repeated failure. Every now and then, while we're planning, I hear the voices... my ancestors.... saying things like "don't park that in the house" and "there are 47 shades of off-white and you picked that one" and "seats are for sitting, not for storage." This is the kind of thing you hear from normal people. People who don't randomly hear voices, commenting on their decorating. People whose houses are not decorated by hurricane. We don't consider it a narrow walkway - we consider it exercise and training (for what, I don't know). If you bend just the right way, you might put your back back in. Or fix that aching shoulder you woke up with.

So I guess the first rule is it's not necessary to have every spare foot of space occupied. But if this were true, what would we do with all our stuff?  Don't say basement because some of our Stuff has gone sentient and makes rude noises at us when we go down there. I love rude noises but the sentient part indicates we probably shouldn't put more Stuff down there. On the other hand, if I put more guitar amps down there, maybe the rude noises will get LOUDER and go off when neighbors walk by. There's a use for everything, you know.

So if we can't hide Stuff, we'd have to [dramatic music] get rid of it. Who gets rid of their stuff? We've spent forever acquiring our Stuff - what would be the point of getting rid of it? It would negate the time, effort, and emotion involved in procuring the Stuff in the first place. We can't stand inefficiency, and this is the worst kind. Plus there will undoubtedly be more Stuff in the future. So I agreed to no car parts over 200lbs (14.4778 litres Canadian). No amplifiers over 200lbs. No girlfriends over 200lbs (that one was pretty easy, but in negotiations, you have to let them think they won something). 

After many years together we discovered our Big Problem<tm>. It's vertical space. If we bring in a coffee table and sit it in front of the sofa, then go out for dinner, by the time we get back, it will be cluttered with stuff. It doesn't have to be movies either.. sometimes stuff pops up by itself. I hear, but haven't seen, that we put stuff there. Every vertical surface acquires stuff. So in the design, we have eliminated all vertical space. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to go furniture shopping and ask for furniture without vertical spaces? So we wind up buying furniture and sawing a leg off or something. We just need an angle steep enough to make stuff slide off it. Go ahead - laugh. Is every inch of vertical surface in your house free of detritus, mail, bills, and sex toys? If this fails, we're looking at electrifying the surfaces, so we get a brief ZZZZT when we put something there.

The dog's patron saint is the one for lost causes. I've mentioned her penchant for putting her toys all over the place and making sure the floor is dirty within an hour of me using the vacuum.  So she's going to be a bit of an obstacle to a clean layout. And NO, Grandma, we aren't getting rid of her.

The main occupiers of space are shoes and guitars. Guitars and shoes. Since we're miraculously free of rug rats, they each have their own room. We have to allow for growth, as they keep showing up at the front door (moreso shoes, of course). Well, it seems they've gone past the Point of No Return and gone nuclear. Right now, they're figuring out ways to escape their palace. I'm not sure if it's pre-existing shoes or (probably) new shoes, but several on-back-of-door shoe racks have appeared recently. They're built better than some steel building skeletons, and twice as heavy. So when you open the bathroom door, you inevitably slam part of the superstructure of the device into your leg. The door also weighs 343lbs (4 grams Canadian), so you can't shut it. If it ever gets shut, we'll never get into the bathroom again. The other one is on the bedroom door - a very unfortunate place for it. When I get in bed, there's already a wife and a dog in it. I invariably bang a body part on the shoe monstrosity, causing a noise. Ever protectant, the dog starts barking and won't stop for 5 minutes. She wasn't the smartest pup in the litter, just the prettiest, apparently. 

So I think the shoe room has gone nuclear and every shoe I see is new. I can't pull this off, at well over the minimum of $1,500 each, so mine tend to appear in the living room. I think they leave the room and put themselves against the furniture on purpose. Perhaps they want a small vacation from the guitar room and whatever goes on there (I hear tales...). So the equipment starts to migrate to the living room. John Entwhistle, the Who's bass player, had every inch of his walls decorated with guitars and basses. It's certainly an idea, but can take a toll on the finish and neck. So I have a small subset of my equipment near the couch. I promised to call a halt to it if the larger amplifiers started to appear.

I am told that the large, comfy devices near the couch are chairs. I've done some research on these so-called chairs, and it turned out to be true; people sit in them! This epiphany will require more consideration, at least in terms of having nothing on them. Of course if we never want anyone to come over, it's moot. In fact, we can get rid of all the chairs for more guitar shoe floor space. We could also use foldout chairs, but that's kinda cheesy. [you're now party to Great Thinking, or great amounts of thinking - you're here at the birth of something normal. something everyone else in the world has managed to accomplish.]

In the kitchen, the best thing that could happen, as I say about certain parts of the city, is a fire or small thermonuclear device. Again, I don't know much about design, but even I am suspicious of the workspace, which is about 6" (5' Canadian) between the oven and sink. We put in some workspace, but it's a little weird across the room. There are companies that put new faces on drawers and cabinets, which is a little funny, because it would just remind me of the previously ugly faces and we'd still have 6" in which to work. Ideally we should move the sink, but this is not something I can do. It's not in my wheelhouse. Nor is sanding, sawing, wood, metal, and most other things one needs to redo a house. You see, my wheelhouse is very small. At this point, there will be no jokes about my wheel, thank you. The sink, like the rest of the house, was put in by drunk monkeys. In order to get to the drain, water has to flow uphill. We had a clog once and called that Roto place. He was really confused by what should normally be accomplished with gravity. He eventually unclogged the pipes, but he divorced his wife, quit his job, and is now meditating near the top of a mountain near Sri Lanka somewhere. I hope he took his heavy coat.

The house came from plans. We've never seen them, and we're convinced neither had the builder. We get the impression that bits of the house were added on, possibly by spinning the wheel and adding whatever it landed on. We could make two bedrooms out of the master bedroom, but don't because it would be really awkward. 

I think the dining room would largely decorate itself, via the furniture my grandparents gave us. It's older than we are. It's in great shape. In fact, it was immaculate for its first 50 years, then got scratched when we moved it. I have a touch. It's going to hurt to saw a leg off that table, so things don't wind up on it. It will also take a toll on meals, I think [HERE'S THE POTATOES - WHOOSH!]. Currently there are over 27 different kinds of dog treats on it. If you become dead and are given the choice of reincarnation, choose being our dog. You get your own yard, treats, a sleep number bed, and a humongous fan club everywhere you go. The humans treat you like you're a person.

There's a tv involved. Where do you put that? In the basement, to keep the voices happy? What color paint on the walls? Take note that paint has pain inside it - let that be a warning. What about colors? We like everything black, which might cause a problem with paint. Then if we put very little of our Stuff back, it will be sparse. People will like it and wonder who we hired to do the place over. And within 3 days, we will be out shopping for new Stuff.

Today I identify as  a retarded decorator

One place I used to work had an odd call about someone's screen being upside down. Sure enough, when I arrived there, everything was upside down. I fixed it and was later told this wasn't the first call from this person. I know it can be done, but not how to do it.

I recount this because of my mother. We've been calling all day, with no answer. The last time, I had to go over there and discovered she had managed to turn her ringer off. We go out of our way to get mom-proof technology. I'm afraid of what I'll find this time... maybe she got into the SIM card and set the phone to ring on someone else's number. Oops, no, she not only turned off the ringer, she put the phone on airplane. These are things she cannot do if you ask her to. I am being repaid for everything I did as a child.

• LOS ANGELES (AP) — The woman arrested on suspicion of killing her three young children at her Los Angeles apartment had been involved in a custody dispute with their father, according to a newspaper report Sunday.
• I can't claim any knowledge of the law here, but I'm going to say she shouldn't have custody of the children.

Things could possibly get 'interesting' in Huntington Beach, CA, with a White Lives Matter march coming up. Citizens are demanding the city shed its association with right wing extremism.  Yes, from now on, only left wing extremists will be allowed to march, speak, and gather. When asked how this would fare against the First Amendment, the response was rapid: "If people are going to march here, they better say things we like. The First Amendment isn't absolute, especially when groups go off saying things we don't like." Meanwhile, Black Lives Matter will attend the march, with signs that say ALL LIVES MATTER. Antifa's signs will say CAN'T WE ALL GET ALONG. At the end of the march, all groups will get together for a nice dinner, where they discover a common enemy: the Jews.

• Marxist BLM co-founder Patrisse Khan-Cullors has been on a $3.2 million house buying binge.
• We don't have a full list of BLM members, but I suspect no other members have been on that kind of binge.

Police in Windsor, Virginia, pulled their guns on a Black and Latino man immediately after pulling him over at a gas station for a traffic stop, according to body camera footage of the December 2020 incident. Second Lieutenant Caron Nazario, a member of the U.S. Army Medical Corps, was still wearing his full uniform en route home from work in his Chevy Tahoe when he asked, “I’m serving this country, and this is how I’m treated?” The officers later pepper-sprayed him, kneed him in the legs, handcuffed him, and threatened to bring charges against him if he complained about their conduct, according to the footage and Nazario’s lawsuit. 

The man was obviously DWB (Driving While Black), and the police felt threatened. Anybody can buy an army uniform. The police owned up to their misbehavior, apologized, and offered Mr. Nazario a hooker.

 More and more and more requirements are being implemented to show people do not have the Flying AIDS. This includes sporting and, more importantly, musical events. Nobody thought they could come up with something more ridiculous and time consuming at a concert venue, yet the American spirit prevailed...

• 4hr public transportation ride, because we're green. Looking at some of the subway stations, you would be green too.
• Long lines at the doors of the venue, waiting for them to open
• Long lines at the doors after the doors open
• Making friends in line, wondering WTF is going on
• finally making it to the front of the line, where it's time for a ticket scrutinizer, weapons patdown, bomb sniffing dog, removal of most of the stuff you brought to the concert because someone decided it was illegal within the last 5 minutes, rectal scan, examination of any Flying AIDS paperwork, rectal temperature taking for Flying AIDS, questions about where you've been the past 2 weeks by a detective or someone playing a detective on tv
• turn around and go back home. Even Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix on the same bill ain't worth it

Flying AIDS news 

8 adverse reactions at a Georgia site got the J&J vaccine paused, making it the 4th state to do so

The CDC is evaluating the reactions and says "There is nothing to see here. We are positive that hearts jumping out of bodies after the vaccination have nothing to do with the vaccine."

Pfizer's vaccine cannot stop the SAFRICA strain.

America's Doctor, Anthony Fauci, is hiding studying in the White House basement, rolling some dice to figure out what to say next.

• Everybody is looking forward to getting back to work, except half of Americans: the introverts.

Israel appears to confirm attack on Iran nuclear facility

ISRAEL: we got the bastards!

IRAN: The blackout is in no way due to any outside influence. We just forgot to pay Iran Electric.

US: we cannot confirm or deny anything our good friends in Israel did the other night, at 2:47am, in the general vicinity of the Irani nuclear facility, with tomahawk missiles.

IRAN: Did we say electric shutoff? We're merely complying with the treaty we signed. We realized we were lying and wanted to show good faith to the world.

My prayers have been answered. 

Las Vegas tried to become the only state to ban ornamental grass.

The moment that law goes into effect, we're moving. NO MORE MOWING!

Oh wait...   grass that no one ever walks on or otherwise uses in street medians, housing developments and office parks 

F*ck.

* Demented Bread Boffer courtesy of Frank Zappa - Broken Hearts are for Assholes