Trump Takes Up Meditation

Apparently the Boy Scouts have a very serious pedophile problem. People are coming forward and telling their stories.  Who the hell do they think they are - the church?

• Leslie Van Houten, one of the Manson Family, has been denied parole for the third time. For some reason, Charlie's Angels aren't very interesting - perhaps it's the lack of carving things into their foreheads. Charlie, on the other hand, was always amusing (after jail only). You could count on good old Charlie to say or do something stupid, like Joe Biden.
• But seriously, if you're bored, check Charlie out. His childhood pretty much guaranteed his adulthood would be 'interesting'. Not quite this interesting, though. The eyes say it all. One wonders if he had any 'help' becoming so persuasive.

Philly government, jealous of how long Baltimore has been non-operational due to ransomware, stepped right up and got virused. This is the first time Philly government has stepped up to do anything. Currently the court system is the only one affected, but the other departments are making appointments to plug into their network.

Rumor has it that the IT systems are being run by illegal aliens the mayor gave Sanctuary status.

Dear lefty:

• How many angels fit on the head of a pin?
• Do you do anything besides masturbate?

A Washington man called the police after a prostitute would not leave, preventing him from going to church. It was her 'come to Jesus' moment....

• Another mission into the jungle with my nemesis, the mower. It's bleedin' 2019 - has every child in the area found a better job? Back in Frozen Tundra Season, one enterprising youth went around with a shovel, charging a lot of money. This smart fella probably bought a lot of goodies on Amazon (or drugs) that night. This is one child in twenty years. The rest are probably shoveling in enhanced reality online games.
• Time Warp is in effect, with the young couple across the way sending their kids out to shovel the walks of their older neighbors (or else). I offer to pay, but noooooooo. I want to offer to do my elderly neighbor's lawn, but it's an inhuman struggle to do mine. Plus the lady enjoys mowing. Perhaps I should have her do my lawn too. She's only 89, fer chrissake. A young 89. Apparently she doesn't see mowing as The Job From Hell. 
• Perhaps I was bitten by a lawnmower when I was little.

Wife bemoaned having to drink powdered milk as a child. 

I had to drink instant water.

• After watching a child get very excited over a new toy, I realized it doesn't happen to me anymore.

Faceyspaces' employees held a mass protest over nipple censorship.

Never has a protest struck so closely to my heart....

• A Florida (well it's about time) man covered his sleeping girlfriend in ketchup, believing that she had been cheating on him. He should really try oil or chocolate syrup. Oh. Never mind.
• A Florida woman stabbed herself repeatedly because she's "tired of living in Trump's country".  Under law, she can be involuntarily committed to the Happy Place as a danger to herself. I've seen this referred to as Trump Derangement Syndrome.
• A Florida man was arrested after trying to flee police, only to wind up in the middle of a law enforcement convention.

Trump Goes to Blighty

As you can't help but see and hear, the president went to England.

The president's people (including Fox News) say it was to pay a visit to our best global partner and discuss economics.  

The queen, who just turned 147, kept asking her assistants who the tall guy with the funny hat is. They kept explaining that it was not a hat on his head, but gave up after a while. After meeting, she referred to Trump as Elizabeth. No one knows why, but Trump tweeted he'd be the best Elizabeth England has ever seen.

The Ministry of Silly Hats took a small vacation, as the ladies' hats made it in just under ceiling level, which is frightfully small for England. Like him or not, the First Lady is stunning. The others laughed at her because her hat was so small, it fit under the door frame.

The amount of Englanders taking exception to the president was so loud, you'd think he was their president. 

The press was very British, treating the visit with respect.

The US press was 94% negative. CNN took a moment out from "Everything he did wrong" to bring on an English journalist, who said Trump actually behaved himself.  It was CNN/NBC/everyone vs Fox. None were watchable. 

If the president made an announcement that anthrax is fatal, 50% of the country would be dead overnight. The headlines would say "Trump Kills Half the Country."  When he won the election, the headline was "Hillary Loses." 

Not that there weren't gaffes..... Trump kept referring to Prince Charles as Jug-Ears and had to dodge Lady Camilla's advances, which got more brazen over the night, with the application of alcohol. He spoke to many decorated war veterans and asked his people if this was the war on the beach. In a speech, he referred to WWII as the Great War, the Best War, and said England was Winning. 

Piers Morgan interviewed the president, with respect, then presented him with a bowler. The joke was on Trump, as the rules state no one over 5'7" (50 British pounds) can wear a bowler.

Trump left the country, but only after the queen told her best filthy jokes. He said Lady 27th From The Throne Megan Markle has nice ones, but his wife had the best implants ever, of any first lady.

The American press went crazy on French President Macrone, decrying the fact that he spoke French. They demanded to taste some of his fries and his dressing.  The presidential staff had a blast, mis-translating French in Trump's earpiece. When Macrone welcomed him to the conference, the staff translated it as, "He says you're a pussy." At the end of the conference, France officially surrendered to Trump.

The following day, the president went to Ireland. You won't see much in the news, because no one could understand them. He was heard to say, "these people are almost as bad as the Welsh - they have no vowels."

All in all, it went much better than expected; England making no plans to bomb the US (because they'd have to ask permission first).

• I like elephants. You know - not the in-person elephants... the ones on tv. Everybody loves elephants. Now take a minute and look at an elephant. What kind of drugs was evolution on when this came about? They're obviously not descended from apes. Maybe aliens. Maybe the aliens were on something when they were here. A trunk? Where else in nature???
• Don't get me started on aardvarks.

the new iDevice STAND is $999

You Covet My Ice Cream Bar...

Why do we like spicy food? What is chili pepper doing for us? How does it block pain?

• Libertarians: taking over the country so they can leave you alone.

Hillary Clinton: I'm the most transparent person in history. Yes, Hill - we can see right through you.

• SELFIES: Al Roker had to apologize for taking a smiling selfie in the midst of the South Carolina flooding.

Obama is considering a plan to leave a significant force in Afghanistan. Demands a list of countries we haven't invaded yet.  Hey - didn't he promise to get us out of Afghanistan?

• Trump hotels confirm credit card breach. Trump plans to bring this same oversight and security to government. Hillary Clinton breathes sigh of relief.
• INTO THE BREACH: The Trump breach doesn't yet have a count of affected. Experian got hacked and leaked 15 million T-Mobile customers and Scottrade's breach affects 4.6 million customers. This is from 10/2 to 10/5.

Today's happy dystopian news deals with the niceities of facial recognition. Read it and weep.

• Beard transplants. No, really. About $7,000. And you can clone your dog for $100,000.

Right on time, here's this week's Great Unwashed Report: Hillary supporters think a white privilege tax should be enacted. I'm all for a Stupid Tax. But let's balance this out with the opinions of the Sheriff and some citizens of Roseburg, OR. After the tragic shooting, they say gun control is not the answer. Furthermore, the President is not welcome there.

• The Vatican is moving pedophile and gay priests to a monastery to be 'cured'. I'm thinking that short of shooting them, there's no cure for pedos. In the Real World<tm>, gay conversion therapy has been discredited. As for pedophiles, they should be prosecuted and, if found guilty, placed in jail with CHILD MOLESTER tattooed on their foreheads.

The French: Air France executives announce the layoff (firing) of 2,900 workers. Workers riot, some rip shirts and jackets of executives. President of France surrenders over concerns that this is harming France's reputation. Umm.. corporate executives firing 2,900 people isn't bad for France's reputation? Why don't we do that here?

• Satanists help uphold First Amendment: Long after the Oklahoma Supreme Court ruled the Oklahoma Capitol's Ten Commandments monument unconstitutional, it was removed, quietly and under cover of darkness. When they refused to remove it initially, many groups campaigned for their own statue, including satanists, who erected a seven foot tall statue. Even the Flying Spaghetti Monster applied for a spot. The initial suit was filed by a Baptist minister, who preached the Ten Commandments, but knew it didn't belong on governmental ground.

A South Carolina man called police because his girlfriend wouldn't have sex with him. I call sexism. If his girlfriend called police, it would be Loss of Consortium.

• Tired of your ridiculous, boring, restrictive state? Why not move to Colorado, where politicians are considering topless women in public and Denver is the number one sexually active city in the country (link contains rankings).  I'm considering a job as a data gatherer for projects like these.

One of the world's most powerful people, Rupert Murdoch, tweeted that he wants a 'real black president,' in support of Ben Carson. While you have to admire the man's intestinal fortitude, one wonders what would happen if someone tweeted something about a real white president.  UPDATE: Mr Murdoch 'very sorry'. What he meant to say was that "It's about time for my niggah Ben to git in office."

• Why are Janet Jackson and N.W.A. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees?

No good deed ever goes unpunished: Mrs leftystrat bought a stack of butter cakes for friends and relatives, plus one for us. Everybody was thrilled with them, including the dog, who ate ours.

• Don't forget: October is National Breast Awareness Month!

SURVEY SAYS!: One in three vegetarians admit to eating meat when drunk. They probably take selfies too.

• A 79 year old retired New Jersey firefighter was burned to death after his lawn mower caught fire. If this man, with all of his firefighting expertise, cannot put out a combusting mower, what chance do I have? The mowers are out to get us!

TECH

Duck You: Degath's Ducker 

What is a ducker and why do you need one?  You're listening to the tv or radio and a show starts off with some music, then someone starts talking. The music fades to the background so you can hear the talking. If you do this automatically, it's called ducking. Why do you need this? I have no bleedin' idea if you do or don't but I'll tell you anyway because I'm impressed with the software and its author. Unfortunately it only runs on Windows (I asked - no plans to port it to linux) and does not require installation: just put it in a directory and fire it up.

If you play music while you're computing or surfing but you want to be interrupted for an important Skype, call, text, or the latest Faceyspaces selfie announcement, this program will be helpful to you. It's pretty easy to run... open your programs first, including the ducker. There are two windows: trigger and target. Your trigger is the important interruption and the target is your music or whatever you need muted when the important audio comes in. That's it unless you want to get really complex. It works as-is. If you like it, make a donation (I did).

PET SAFETY

Please put a tag on your dog or cat with your contact information.
This morning a little black dog ran in front of my car in traffic. I pulled over and grabbed him. No one seemed to know where his human was and he had a tag with only his name (very helpful). Fortunately he was in great shape, very friendly, and his owner drove by, looking for him.



ART AS MUSIC?

Let's talk about songwriting. Let's talk about taste. Let's talk about tone. Let's talk about The Rembrandts.
You may know them from the ridiculously overplayed theme song from the ridiculously overplayed sitcom Friends (I'll Be There for You). This is the last time I'm going to mention that. These are songs that get into your head and you want to play often (even the ones without guitar solos!).

One of my favorite Rembrandts songs actually made the radio. It's called Just the Way It Is, Baby. Prime example of good songwriting and hook.  It contains a really tasty and tone-filled guitar lead - really odd for a hit.

Someone is an acoustic-driven piece with yet another good hook.

I didn't actually know this song until I came across it on Youtube. This House is Not a Home is a more electric one, managing to get their jangle into it. The video is amusing, not to mention the appearance of certain staff and the Playboy mansion.

Listen to some of their other songs.

Linus Torvalds - father of linux. When was the last time you saw Bill Gates or Steve Jobs in a monogrammed fighter?

Guess What Your Children Just Ate...

I didn't realize it til about half the day was done but I was having a pretty bad day yesterday.  Sometimes it starts with a bang, sometimes a whisper and sometimes, as it did yesterday, it comes by phone.....

"Guess what your children just ate," asked the wife on the phone.

This is never a good question.  They're only mine when they do something bad.  Apparently the cat discovered leftover Mexican food (Chipotle's) on the stove.  In a move guaranteed to baffle Pet Science, he somehow managed to move it to the edge of the stove, then catapult it to the floor, where both of the little buggers consumed it.

Have you ever heard of this kind of inter-species cooperation before?  They could have their own show: Ren and Marshall Rule the Roost, Sundays on Animal Planet.

I got this news right before lunch.  I had to go out for lunch because Ren had consumed parts of my lunch the night before.  Off the eight of us went, because my boss made the mistake of mentioning french toast, causing a Food Avalanche.

Although I complained about this diner, with their twenty dollar burgers, we were on our way.  Up we pulled, only to discover that the diner had gone out of business.  They had the nerve to never even let us know.

Again, off we went, to one of our usuals.  Everyone got their food and exactly what they ordered.  Except me, of course.  The waitress kept telling me it was coming up any minute now.    Ten minutes later my sandwich arrived.  Perhaps they had to grow the chicken to make sure it was truly fresh.

Hours later, back at work, my wife and Marshall came to pick me up.  Ever the demure and classy lady, my wife asked me if I knew what my son just did.

Uh-oh.

"He pooped on your seat in the car, after that Mexican food."


My coworkers fell like dominoes.


Although I'm against them on principle, I suddenly became thankful for car seat covers.  The ride home was less than odiferous and we were relieved.  Not as relieved as Marshall, but still.


After all of that I began to feel that the Universe was having a bit of a giggle at my expense.  It has certainly happened before and I expect it will certainly happen again.

At this point, you know that there could only be one thing left: the lawnmower.

I filled the bastard with gas, as I ran out one quarter of the way through over the weekend.  At this point I need to remind all of my good friends here that there is simply nothing I hate more than mowing the lawn.  There's no logical reason for it but there we are.  I'd almost rather sit in that lovely chair at my dentist's office (Dr. Mengele).

The throttle cable simply broke a while back and I've spent most of my time jury-rigging it to function but the mower had had enough of me at that point; it was going to keep quitting while I tried to keep mowing.

I'm surprised you guys in Florida didn't hear me spend an hour or so screaming at the five horsepower beast.  I would mow a few strips and the beast would shut off.  I would adjust the new wire and it would start, mow a bit, then shut off again.  Then I would burn myself trying to fix it, causing yet another fusillade of Very Nasty Words and a warning from my wife that there are children on the block.

When one is in the middle of a good old-fashioned tirade, the last thing we need to hear is that there are children on the block.  Most of the children on the block, especially the ones produced by the Loud Family, have vocabularied that far exceed mine, especially when they're outside flipping off their parents.

My wife attempted to help but that didn't work out so well.  I suggested she either fix it herself or sit on the steps and supervise: two alpha males cannot fix a lawnmower.  Or much of anything else.

After some more wire and even more screaming, I managed to finish off the lawn, to everyone's great relief.  Having had the pleasure earlier of throwing out the errant car seat cover, I was free to sit down and sweat all over my recliner.

But the joke, as usual, was on me: Marshall's new pool got filled and he was racing all over the house, completely soggy from swimming and sitting on all the furniture.


Yeah, we're a tv show without need for scripting.

The State of Gardening in 2011

I have said it before and I will never stop saying it: I hate grass.   More specifically I hate mowing the grass.  I don't really have anything against grass per se, I would just prefer that it stay at a predetermined height and spectacularly fail to grow.

I have even gone so far as to research replacing the green bits with concrete, but alas, the county has certain silly rules about drainage and flood planes.   Since I am the reason my county has an anti-Slinky ordinance*, I dare not tempt fate.

I have a long history with mowers.  Somewhere in the bowels of my shed, there's a push mower.  Just knowing it's there annoys me, although I can't ever remember using it.  Eventually an electric mower showed up (don't ask me how).  It lasted a few weeks, being the anemic piece of attempted machinery it was.

So we had no choice but to go to gas.  It lasted the better part of a season and died.  Mower Number Four was also gas-powered and ran like a top.  Well, it ran like a top right up until it stopped running.  I observed that it seemed to be a fuel issue, so I had no choice but to disassemble the carburetor/fuel system.

In retrospect, I'm not entirely sure why I felt I had the expertise to deal with a carburetor.  Perhaps it was because all of my cars had carburetors.  Perhaps because a friend rebuilt my carburetor on the dining room table once and it looked cool.  Perhaps I just figured that if I could build computers, I could certainly fix internal combustion engines.  Regardless of the reason, I was completely and accurately incorrect: I could not, in fact, do much more than put gas in the tank.  And with the cost of gas lately, even that was in doubt.

Oddly enough, I was correct, in that the cylinder wasn't getting fuel.  I was just incorrect about my ability to repair the issue.

Flash forward to the current mower: Mower Number Five.  We purchased a Craftsmen because they make great tools, so we just made the bizarre leap of logic that the mowers would be every bit as good.  To be fair, it ran flawlessly over a few  years, always starting pretty quickly (long before my back started telling me to stop pulling that ripcord, asshole).

Things being what they are, I brought out Mower Number Five at the beginning of the season, expecting to start the on the first pull.  And I suspect it might even have started on that first pull, had the ripcord not broken as soon as I started to pull it.  Why did it break?  Because it was made from stranded metal cable that was exposed to the elements and it rusted.

Not to be outdone (by yet another mower) my wife sprang into action.  She seems to like Lowes in much the same way she likes shoe stores, by which I mean to say expensively and fatally.  She managed to locate something called a Universal Choke Replacement Cable, which seemed perfect for the part.

And when I say perfect for the part, I mean it looked perfect right up until I tried to install it.  My wife is as fond of instructions as I am of all things Mac, so I am in charge of all assembly.  As it turned out, the cable was somewhat less universal than its billing.  So there sat Mower Number Five, having beaten two full-grown adults into submission.  My wife's idea for getting even was to take it for repairs.  I swear I heard it laughing at her as soon as her back was turned.  I simply gave up.

Giving up allowed me the luxury of not mowing.  It also meant constant `reminders' from the wife about the size of the grass.  I can only assume the construction hat with the flashlight duct taped to it and references to going out to locate the dog was her way of telling me the grass was getting rather tall.  Having given up, I simply pretended not to notice.

Then it happened.

I'm not entirely certain what happened or where it came from.  All of the sudden I remembered that I used to really like cars, taking them apart, and fixing things in general.  I used to be able to rig things so they'd work.  And there I was, beaten by a simple broken choke cable.

I got up off my well-padded posterior, grabbed some heavy wire, and rigged the ($*#ing mower so it would start on the first pull.   Since this is me we're talking about, it started on the third pull but who's arguing?  Just for fun I told the wife I refused to mow the lawn ever again so she'd get mad at me then walk out back to discover I had mowed anyway (we have that kind of marriage).

She was most appreciative and I felt like a Real Man<tm> for the first time in years (antidepressants be damned).

But speaking of gardening....
(that wins Segue of the Century)

My wife decided to exercise her green thumb this year.  Again.  Normally, this means that she goes to Lowes and purchases huge bags of dirt and moss, which sit on the front lawn until the following year when it's time to go back and purchase more dirt and moss (presumably because the previous year's dirt expired?).  This year there were actual plants, flowers, and real genuine vegetables.  The last time she planted vegetables, we became inundated with a plague of yellow squash the size of watermelons.  We couldn't give it away fast enough.

This year there was careful consideration given to which vegetables she would grow, including which side of the house on which to plant.  There were these huge tomato triangular cages that looked like medieval torture devices (but I won't make any reference to them not being similar to the medieval torture devices in the bedroom, as this is no doubt being read by children as well as adults without a strong constitution).

I saw genuine excitement on my wife's face as things started to bloom and grow.  This was quickly followed by crushing disappointment, as every $*#@ing thing she planted got eaten by various fauna.

Apparently it started with the bunnies (as it always does).  The bunnies came by and ate some of the vegetables.  Then the badgers, raccoons, and foxes came along to eat the bunnies.  As previously described, we had nightly 11:15pm skunkings for no apparent reason.

We are fairly normal suburbanites, living in a fairly normal suburb.  We don't live near the woods.  We don't live near animal sanctuaries.  So why is it that almost every species of herbivore known to the mid-atlantic portion of the US stopped by to munch on our vegetables?  My friends out in the boonies don't have this kind of variety (although the mother-in-law has bears, but that's a different story entirely).

My wife simply gave up.  I would have heartily applauded her but I was too busy pretending to ignore the entire affair, having given up on the outdoors long before moving into this house.

To add insult to near-fatal injury, while I was mowing the lawn, I unknowingly plowed the rest of the garden.  Fortunately my wife had already given up, so she was able to note this with some degree of dark humor (we have that kind of marriage).

Ah, the great indoors....

----------

* I once heard that Slinkys make so-so antennas for shortwave radios.  So I strung four of them together and ran them from an upstairs window to a shed.  The neighbors, who already thought I was a few pennies short of a nickel, just stood and stared.   As it turned out, they were right: the antennas were so-so at best, so the Slinkys were just there for `decoration'.