He Was Threatening to Hurt Himself So We Shot Him

You will be relieved to know that Pussy Galore is back in a new 007 novel. Or, as it used to be pronounced, Pushy Galore.

• As if the race to the 2016 presidential election weren't hilarious enough, Rick Santorum has thrown his bible into the ring. This embarrassment hails from Pennsylvania, my adopted home state (I'm Martian-American). Santorum, a Christian Conservative, is against abortion, gay marriage and sanity. If you want to keep your woman in the kitchen, vote for Rick.

The North Korean Defense Chief was just exectuted. A lot of people naysay the impact and importance of regular executions.

• Nasa's Messenger spacecraft recently ended its mission by slamming into Mercury. If there is indeed any intelligence watching our planet, they're not getting a good picture of us. Just a few years ago, we bombed our own moon.

Formerly secret Scotland Yard files reveal that the UK police feared that Trekkies could turn on society. Set phasers on stupid, Spock.

• Don't look now but there's a lawsuit against Yahoo for reading email. Surprise surprise... after the news that Google reads your Gmail, now we find out that Yahoo reads not only your Yahoo email, but email sent to Yahoo addresses. Remember: if the service is free, your privacy is the price.

The European Food Safety Authority has decreed that more than five cups of espresso can be dangerous to your health.  I suspect that the danger would result from bouncing off walls. If you drink more than five cups of espresso, you've got bigger problems anyway.

• The other day my ears came alive after I heard my wife say "You're too big - I can't take it all." She was talking to her dinner plate.

I just came across this... great words from Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

It doesn’t matter where we worship or what we call God; there is only one, inter-dependent human family. We are born for goodness, to love – free of prejudice. All of us, without exception. There is greater commonality in our belief systems than we tend to credit, a golden thread expressed in the maxim that one should treat others as one would like others to treat oneself.

LISTEN HERE

Joe Walsh is without a doubt the clown prince of rock and roll. Brought in to ease tensions in the Eagles, Joe did that and more. Some of you may remember him from his days in the James Gang, featuring their 1971 hit, Walk Away. Aside from being hysterical, Joe is a great guitar player and has written some rock classics and some softer stuff that rarely sees the light of day.

Famous for his musical antics as well as his substance abuse, Joe recently got clean and has done some good work, notably his latest release, Analog Man. Check out Family.

Here's Joe at the Crossroads Festival, performing his well-known Funk #49. You'll notice that the bass player suspiciously resembles Duck Dunn and the other guitarist looks like Steve Cropper, both of Booker T and the MGs. The beginning of the song is not what you think it is.

One of my many favorite Joe Walsh tunes is At the Station. It's even better with headphones, as you can hear the Leslie whirring from one side to the other. The harmonized guitars make the song. Enjoy!

Doggie Do

Tissues, or rather, many many pieces of tissues, continue to appear in the house. The dog has a thing for shredding tissues and he prefers used ones. I have mentioned (I think) the progression of trashcans:

1. Regular Can: he sticks his head in, like a smorgasbord, and gets the tissues
2. Tall Can: he knocks it over and gets the tissues
3. Tall, Expensive Electronic Can: can flipped out and randomly opened and closed the lid, flipping out the dog
4. Foot-Operated Can: finally - there is no way a spaniel can figure out how to step on a lever!

Recently, tissues have started popping up, with no apparent source. Aside from the ones my wife leaves on the floor before throwing out, there are no tissues anywhere but in the foot-operated cans.

The only thing worse than finding shredded tissues all over the floor is finding them in bed. Flummoxed, we couldn't figure out how he was getting them so we decided to do the American thing and just ignore it. Until last night, when I walked into the bedroom, just in time to watch him nudge the lid up with his snout, take a tissue and shred it.  Caught, he wagged his tail and put on his best Gee, Dad, I wasn't stealing tissues from the trash can look.

Eventually I'm going to remember that it's a bitch when your pets are smarter than you and just stop trying.

A Tune or Two

I like a lot of bands but very few are favorites.  Little Feat is a favorite.  They have the best rhythm section there is (for my money - sorry Led Zep). Everything they do is funky, like New Orleans on speed. Here are two signature tunes, Fat Man in the Bathtub and Rock and Roll Doctor, from a live special in 1975.

The singer/guitarist, Lowell George, was a founding member who also played in Zappa's Mothers of Invention. Fat Man in the Bathtub is for him.  The man could sing like an angel and play slide like an old black man at the Crossroads.  He did not use a traditional slide; instead preferring a Craftsmen 11/16" socket (because the 5/8" socket presumably didn't sound as good). Lowell died of an overdose, in bed. Unfortunately Richie Hayward, the drummer, died recently of cancer. 

Fat Man has a groove that is beyond infectious. It's was a common opener and never failed to get the audience up and moving. To hell with the Dead, Feat Audiences never stopped (and didn't require half the drugs). After you get done, listen to Waiting for Columbus, the 1975 live album. Sure enough, it starts with Fat Man and only gets better.  

The Feat got back together after Lowell's death, featuring several singers. They currently tour with Paul Barrerre (the other guitar player) as the singer and Fred Tackett on second guitar.  Do NOT miss then when you get the chance. Listen to their entire catalog and move your posterior.

The Best Laid Plans.... Don't Get Laid

We have food trucks at work. That is about the most positive thing I can say about them. One of them featured Jamaican 'food'. One of my coworkers was talking to another, saying she didn't eat the curried goat because it's too spicy. To be honest, I don't eat the curried goat because it's goat.

Because my wife tithes to Dunkin Donuts, I noticed their new HUGE banner for bacon guacamole flatbread. I'd like to order a bacon guacamole flatbread - hold the guacamole and the flatbread.

Speaking of which, we recently discovered that, in addition to water ice, the dog loves banana splits. To be specific, he loves splits, without banana in them. He's a chip off the old block. Have you ever seen a dog eat an ice cream cone? I always wonder what's going through his head..... hmmm... this ice cream isn't water ice but it's really good. Since it's harder than water, I guess I should bite it - as he takes a bite out of my wife's ice cream. She's flabbergasted but not flabbergasted enough to stop him from trying to eat the actual cone. He liked the cone too. 

Don't get me wrong - the only people food he gets is whatever lands on the floor before we can pick it up, just like the cat. Funny, both of them sit at my wife's feet while she's eating.


THE WAR

Speaking of work, I've apparently entered the War Between Workers. Nobody officially declared war or even bothered to tell me that we have wars, yet here I am.  The shame of it all is that it's a silent war - The War of the Trashcan.

Every day I launch things into the trashcan under my desk.  It's quite a functional trashcan, black, and protected from my every day abuse by the ubiquitous clear baggie-looking-thing.  Every morning I arrive and the aforementioned trashcan has moved out from underneath my desk to right by my cube's opening. This creates quite the issue when I stumble into work and attempt to throw a bit of trash into the can under my desk, totally and completely missing the can.

So my only obvious conclusion is that I'm in a silent war. My opponent is not only laughing at me because my morning trash winds up on the floor, but also because even when I aim it at its new (temporary) location, I still miss the can. This is why I don't play sports. This and the memories of childhood friends, screaming, "HEY LEFTY - YOU'RE RUNNING THE WRONG WAY!"

I'm not typically a warlike guy, especially with coworkers (even the one who sighs wearily, snores and curses every ten minutes, driving me up the wall of my cube and onto the ceiling).... I sought a middle ground. I literally put the can halfway between the desk and the cube exit. And every morning, it's back in its other spot, as if some sort of Facilities Deity has declared it so.

Or it's just some sort of idiotic incentive (probably from my wife) to get me to move a little. Or at all.


SPEAKING OF CANS...

I live across the street from the House That Ate the Neighborhood.  It used to be a nice house that blended into the neighborhood in a pleasant way.  Then came the first add-on, a porch.  Then an additional two-car garage.  Then a porch that surrounded the house and the two-car garage. Then a third floor.  The neighbors have been busy pulling plans and permits at the township - it turns out he has an underground swimming pool, three levels under the house, plus a Very Deep Level, where he keeps his armaments, food stores, and surveillance equipment. My wife is jealous, as she tends to use the Manual Surveillance Mode, whereupon she sits on the front steps and watches the comings and goings of the denizens. "Hey, Patricia's home early from work."

So there's another house down the street which has had its porch under construction for a year. Mind you, this is not the type of porch that can be mistaken for an addition or another bedroom. It's a standard porch - the kind that should be populated with some rocking chairs, a swing, plus an occasional toothless relative. Two weeks ago, out of the blue, the porch had been completed. No idea whether it completed itself or had outside assistance.

Two days later we drove by to see that someone had started a large-ish extension on the side of the house.

Uh-oh.
It's (as they say) ON.

The sensors across the street at the first house set off the alarm. Without declaring anything, the Silent War starts. It starts with an extension. Then House #1 counters with a patio. A screened patio. House #2 parries with a heated sun room. The stakes rise when House #1 annexes the house next door, like Hitler took Poland. House #2, not one to be upstaged, calls in the township, which has laws about Stuff Like This.  In addition to not being allowed to run Slinkys across your back yard, you also can't annex a neighboring house (Hitler notwithstanding).  Pretty soon they'll be lobbing wheelbarrows and dump trucks at each other. The collateral damage will be horrendous.

This is not going to end well. Or soon.

[UPDATE]
I thought we might have seen it all but I was seriously mistaken. There is yet a THIRD house undergoing major reconstruction. Neighborhood War I will be upon us in short order.


AND NOW, THE MUSIC

Today's musical gem is features Sass Jordan. She's one of my favorite female vocalists. Very few know that Sass was invited to spend some time at the Van Halen compound when they were looking for a new singer. I think VH made a terrible mistake in not hiring her. Gary Cherone?

Forgetting for a moment her model-like looks, the woman can just plain sing. She can do slow, she can do fast, she can Janis it out. She also has a great range. While she's more popular in her home of Canada, she needs to be heard round the world. I saw a video of her band recently, where she walked up to the mic with a beer and belched right into it.  Who can NOT love a woman like this?

Make You a Believer is some straight ahead rock, starting with its main riff and going all the way through to its church-like refrain, 'I will make you a believer' at the end.

If you'd lke to hear her softer side, check out You Don't Have to Remind Me. This lady has balls.

Hold Onto Your Ankles, it's Healthcare Time

I started my job a while back but just became eligible for benefits. This is stupid, as employers can grant benefits at any point. I have been delaying signing up because I didn't want to look at the coverage and costs.
It was worse than I thought.

WHAT?

The recruiter who got me hired gave me a benefits package, indicating that the least expensive insurance came with a two thousand dollar deductible.  Yes, you read that right - a two thousand dollar deductible! Sheer lunacy.  And this was the least expensive plan.

After further research, I realized that the recruiter gave me old information: the deductible was fifty five hundred dollars.  This is, quite frankly, not insurance.  It's catastrophic coverage for the price of very expensive health insurance. To back up a bit, health insurance used to cover hospitalization; you paid cash for doctors. When insurance expanded to cover doctors, rates went through the roof. As rates continued to skyrocket, HMOs were introduced. These promised to lower the cost of healthcare. They failed miserably.

Healthcare, to be truthful, is broken beyond repair.

WHO?

Some of our politicians decided to 'help' fix healthcare. This is never a good idea, yet the current occupant of the White House shoved his plan through. And he touted himself a hero.

And he IS a hero, to the two groups that benefit: the poor and the insurance industry, who won big on this gamble with our money. The poor get insurance, with a financial assist.  Who does the assist come from? Healthier people, who need less services, and people who make more than the poor, whose premiums are jacked up through the ceiling and have outrageous deductibles. The insurers benefit because everyone is required to purchase insurance (thank you Supreme Court) and the government is now the enforcement arm of the insurance industry.

Government has no place in healthcare, especially if it involves fixing things. I only have to point to Medicare, Social Security and Medicaid to make my point. Do you want these people involved with your healthcare? Look at socialized medicine in England and Canada - it's a mess there too. We shouldn't have to choose between messes.

In the end, Obama et al have not fixed the system: they've tacked premiums onto the mess. If he were truly interested in a fix, he'd have fixed the system, not created a new mess. But we know where his interests were. We also know that the insurance companies drafted the law.

I have a decent job, thankfully.  Unfortunately, a huge percentage of my income goes to healthcare already, for my wife. This is also due to the insurance nightmare, plus the same group of thieves who messed with insurance earlier and raised rates and screwed Medicare recipients via their Donut Hole, wherein insurance doesn't have to cover much medicine after a certain amount, no matter how sick the insured.  So we can add my wife's premiums and payments and non-covered items to my healthcare coverage, which turns out to be four hundred dollars per month, plus the aforementioned fifty five hundred dollar deductible.

The number one cause of bankruptcy is medical expenses. Fix THAT, Obama (and puppetmasters).


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There is simply no way to top that, so I'll just throw in a few Mental Health Musings:

• I’m depressed and dyslexic: it takes me forever to get out of deb.
• I long for the good old days, when bipolar disorder was manic depression.
• My wife has multiple personalities: they all hate me.
• My brother is a healthy depressed schizophrenic: the voices are too tired to speak to him.
• My other brother is a drunk schizophrenic: his voices just slur and tell him they love him, man.

MUSIC MAN SAYS...

My first guitar idol was the Ultimate Lefty: Jimi Hendrix. Jimi occupies a special place in my heart. He died in 1970, way too soon and way too early for me to have seen him live. The man practically invented rock guitar, no small feat. He also put Marshall amplifiers on the map (oh, is that why you named your dog Marshall?). We still have not caught up to Jimi.

There is no way to pick one great Jimi song, so I'll give you one of my favorites: Manic Depression. This song never fails to get me going - it should do the same to you, with it's catchy hook, great rhythm and a drumbeat that tends to confuse drummers.

There are precious few songs that reach down into me and make the hair on my neck stand at attention. This is one - Jimi's version of the Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock. No one had ever made those noises with a guitar before. Or since (I can do a poor impersonation).

Deep, Deep Shame

Shame. Perfidy. Shonda. Disgrace. Dishonor. Humiliation. Guilt. Sadness. Betrayal. Ignominy. Mortification.

All these things and more will not sufficiently explain my feelings.
I come to you humbly, hat in hand, begging your understanding and your assistance in determining what went wrong.

This is very difficult for me to type, so please allow me some leeway....

[sniff]

My wife...

[sniff]

My wife... has joined Faceyspaces.

There. I said it.

Here I am, Tin Foil Hat to the Stars, Number One Privacy and Security Guru, Winner of the 'I'm Not Paranoid - I'm Acutely Aware' Prize [1998-2014], with a wife on Faceyspaces.  Everyone's laughing at me.

Don't believe me?
Approximately sixty seconds after her signup, my own brother send a foe request, asking if I knew.
I'm doomed, like a chiropractor whose wife wears impossibly high heels. Except the chiropractor's wife at least looks good in them. Nothing good can come of Faceyspaces.

I explained that nothing good can come of Faceyspaces. I explained that it's the front page of the NSA. That the NSA either wrote the software or wishes they did.  That the mobile app eats data and privacy. That even with the highest privacy settings, it still sucks up all available data. That no one knows what the mobile app eats in terms of permissions because it's installed as junkware by the carrier.

Her argument?  She wants to keep in touch with the nieces and nephews.
Do the nieces and nephews not have email? Even though that's also property of the NSA, it's not public.

Will she now be required to post selfies every time she goes to the bathroom? Report on what she ate for lunch? Talk about which tire is leaking this morning? Describe picking up after the dog using Poop Bags<tm>? Purchasing a selfie stick? Beating me about the head and shoulders with it?

Can anybody recommend a twelve-step group or a deprogramming center?


I feel so..... alone.
And it's getting cold.... so cold.



THIS WEEK'S SELECTION

How could I go any further without mentioning another hero of mine: Frank Zappa. Zappa has played the bicycle, gotten arrested for one of his records, run recording studios, made millions laugh, got in trouble for insulting Jewish women then went after Catholic girls, gays, influenced many artists, and knocked the heads off many a guitar player.

This is a love song. A family song. A funny song. A song that you had better not play too loud at work (or home). It's called Crew Slut. It's a love song to the ladies of the road.  And here's Frank with a really nice instrumental called Watermelon in Easter Hay.

Sadly, Frank left us in 1993, due to prostate cancer. Get yourself checked, guys.

Grub? No Thanks

It's great having a job.  No, really. We get to do stuff that we didn't get to do when I was gainfully unemployed. You know.... stuff like eating at restaurants.  Not that we do it a lot - we like about four restaurants and stay home otherwise because we like our own cooking way more than most restaurants.

So out we went on Friday night, as a treat.  The wife wanted a burger and I wanted barbecue, so we went for burgers.  There is a new Wawa (convenience store, for those of you west of Pennsylvania) in town (no, we didn't eat there) but they're adding restaurants to the Super Wawas. Super Wawa is differentiated from regular Wawa by some feature or other; probably the amount of traffic multiplied by the difficulty of accessing the store, divided by locating parking. And gas (hopefully not the kind you get from food).

But wait!!!! The stupid tire indicator in the car was lit. Until I looked in the manual, I didn't know we had a stupid tire indicator. It was right there, under Stupid Tire Indicator. It turned out to indicate that the stupid tire needed air.  Oops, it actually indicated that A stupid tire needed air (but not which stupid tire needed air). Off to the dollar air machine, after which I could not locate my cell phone holster. I just gave up at that point, as that was the kind of day I was having. Normally the holster is secured securely on my pocket... not today. [UPDATE: it was not the stupid tires.. it was the rims - bent by the hellhole that is Philly]

We kept hearing about this place called Grub, which our family and friends really liked, so off we went. The moment we pulled up, I said to my wife, "I do not like this place."  I wasn't entirely sure why I did not like the place... perhaps it was the clientele, perhaps it was the uncomfortable-looking stools (instead of chairs), perhaps it was the proximity to the gas tanks, I dunno. But I was willing to give it a chance, which they tell me is the important thing. They are frequently wrong.

We went to the entrance, which bore a sign telling us to go round to the other entrance. Always obedient, my wife immediately opened the door and we went in.  BOOM - there was a bar in the middle of the place. Small wonder the nieces and nephews like it there; they can get bombed while burgering.

Before you accuse me of telling those kids to get off my lawn, I have to note that I have never enjoyed dining with LOTS OF NOISE around me.  And, strangely enough, there was LOTS OF NOISE around me. The wife noticed this also. Since she has her own internal din, she was not impressed either.

One of the pleasures of dining out is having someone wait on you.  Nope.  We had to stand in line, order and pay, after which we got this RFID tracking beacon, which meant the NSA already knew what we ordered. Over to a booth, where someone shooed us away, stating that the table was reserved. Oddly enough, there was no sign indicating it was reserved, so we located the single remaining table for two, which had approximately enough room for one.

At this point, a female came over and identified herself as a waitress and informed us there were two - no three people walking around if we needed anything.  This was an interesting new model of restauranting and waitressing, we thought.  After we had ordered and paid, there didn't seem to be any need for a waitress, but since we didn't own the restaurant, it didn't seem worth discussing further.

I have to say that the staff was unfailingly pleasant and didn't not have a single issue with custom orders. They had sweet potato french fries, which I really like. The second line, after fries, on the menu stated they had rosemary on them.  I hate rosemary, with a passion normally reserved for politicans. They were kind enough to kill the rosemary for me, which is good, as I'm not the kind of guy who goes around killing rosemary.

This was the kind of restaurant that gave you cups and you filled them with the soda or drink you wanted. I like this as it (theoretically) removes the chance of getting the wrong drink. And if you DO get the wrong drink, you have bigger problems. And it turned out I did, but not for the reason you think: the Coke was remarkably free of flavor. It was similar to carbonated water with brown coloring. Did I mention it was LOUD in there? LOUD like we had trouble talking to each other? This apparently bothered no one else, as their solution was to simply YELL LOUDER than the competition.

Eventually someone showed up with the burgers and we dug in. It's difficult to spell this but I'll try: pbthlllllt uh. It was the sound of me tasting a burger that had barely been cooked. In fact, it was so undercooked that the meat could not hold itself together as a recognizeable burger (or much of anything else of a meatlike-substance).  The wife took a look and confirmed it as medium-rare. I tend to go for something closer to medium-well but no one asked me. I mean that no one, from the register person to the alleged waitress, asked how I wanted my burger. Since my wife likes hers that way, it was not an issue for her.

Since the day was not going well at all, I started competing with my fellow noisemakers, in a less than pleasant tone, about my feelings on the burger. I threw it in its regulation red basket, red Special Sauce leaking all over the place. THIS is why we don't go out to eat much. Visions of barbecue danced in my head, right next to visions of Arnold Schwrzenneger as Terminator, with a double-barreled shotgun, after he had a particularly bad day.

Noting my disgust, the wife suggested she take her burger home and I could microwave it later.  I somehow managed to convey that this was not a helpful suggestion.

Seriously - this was supposed to be a treat for us. The thought of having to get up and launch the burger back from whence it came was just too much for me at the moment.  Have I mentioned that the sweet potato fries (without rosemary) were pretty good?  They were.

At this point, the alleged waitress reappeared, asking how everything was. I looked her straight in the eye and told her 'Horrible'. She smiled, said Great, and walked away, happy as ever. I looked at my wife, dumbfounded, and inquired if we had somehow transported to an alternate dimension. I haven't been in the Twilight Zone<tm> in quite a while and did not wish to return.

It became apparent that immediate action needed to be taken. Although immediate action to me involved making the alleged burger airborn, my wife, who has over twenty years of trying to moderate my behavior, suggested the better option would be to simply have them cook me something edible. We settled on me getting money back and suggesting they keep the burger and do whatever they wanted with it (suggestions joyously provided for the asking).

This, of course was not simple. The transaction required a manager. Cheerful as ever, the manager arrived, having heard there was a small issue. If you call one hundred percent of my meal, drink included, a small issue, then yes, I had a small issue. She cheerfully refunded my money, graciously offering a card entitling me to a free meal upon my next visit. Rather than telling her that my next visit would occur right after all taxes are repealed, I politely refused. She somehow sensed that I would not be returning and re-offered me the card. Rather than telling her that my return would coincide with Bush and Obama dancing cheek-to-cheek, announcing that they both lied for their entire terms in office, I again politely declined.  She told me to ask for her personally next time and she'd take care of me. Rather than telling her the next time would be just after this blog gets over ten thousand hits per day (or even a hundred), I thanked her and told her I liked the fries a lot.

As we got in the car, agreeing that this was a bit of a waste of time, I told my wife that I was hungry and coudln't we go somewhere for dinner. Somewhere among the four restaurants we liked. She smiled and proceeded to take us shopping. Right next to the store was a barbecue place, appearing as a bright light piercing the darkness. I went to it, like a starving nerd to a Playboy bunny, just in time to watch the owner locking the front door.

On the way home, I mentioned again that I was hungry and would like some dinner. The wife said she thought I was kidding.  I looked at my wife, dumbfounded, and inquired if we had somehow transported to an alternate dimension. Or perhaps there was some Waitress in her heritage.


MUSIC

Today it's my favorite guitarist ever: Jeff Beck.
One of his best tunes is Cause We've Ended As Lovers. To get the real flavor you need to listen to the album version (Blow by Blow) but this is a pretty good representation. The band features the incredible Vinnie Coliauta on drums (Zappa, everyone) and the really surprising Tal Wilkenfeld, the twenty-something, grinning bassist from Down Under.  Watch this and be blown away.

Since this will undoubtedly lead to the desire to hear more, watch the complete concert, Live at Ronnie Scott's. This is a very good quality show, released on DVD. One of the greatest moments of the show is looking out in the audience and seeing Robert Plant, looking on, amazed. Another is special guest Jimmy Page but I'm not gonna tell you why or when.  Opening the show is Beck's Bolero. Watch and learn.

Jeff Beck is my favorite due to the emotion and the physical way he plays. He only gets better and he's frightening in his seventies. Watch how he plays with the whammy bar, the volume control and the tone control, sometimes together. It's a master class in guitar.

Burning Down Your Own Block

Let it be stated for the record that the Baltimore thugs are not animals: to call them animals is a disservice to animals everywhere. Animals don't destroy their own neighborhood.

I watched them set fire to buildings. I watched minivans dropping off looters with large bags. I watched them ruining the livelihoods of their own local merchants. I watched them throw cinderblocks at firemen. I watched them slice a firehose being used to put out a fire they started. I watched them scramble when the police finally got serious.

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A Texas grand jury has refused to indict a woman for allegedly breaking into her neighbor's house and sexually assaulting him.  The gentleman in question awoke to feel someone on top of him and felt the offender place his penis in her mouth.

This is not an assault: it's a waking wet dream.

She broke into her husband's friend's house and forcibly had sex with him. And she's not an unattractive woman.  Her husband is now the Most Embarrassed Man in Texas.

No, seriously... why isn't this every bit the assault it would have been, had the roles been reversed? Do the rules state that it's only assault if you're the Input? Remember: a physiological response is not consent. Where are the angry women, screaming RAPE RAPE RAPE?


This brings to mind a few questions:

1. What is the street and block number of this house?
2. Do you think she'd be amenable to moving north?
3. Why aren't there women on the grand jury?
4. Why was the grand jury butt-slapping and fist-bumping on the way out of the courtroom?
5. Why have housing values gone through the roof in that neighborhood?
6. Did the grand jury attend a 'private party' at her house afterwards?

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It turns out coffee is nowhere near as bad for you as first thought. In fact, it proves beneficial in some cases. This does not, however, excuse the triple fudge half-caf whipped cream latte.

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My wife asked me to do it doggie style.
So I chewed up the tissues and she ate the cat's food.

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The differences in countries is sometimes strikingly apparent.  Singapore's prime minister just released source code for his hand-coded Sudoko-solver. Barack Obama released a request for fast-track authority for a trade deal that no one is allowed to read.

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If you're from England, this headline proves somewhat important. If you're from anywhere else, it means something else. Labour shake-up: Leslie replaces Balls.

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Most of you know I'm familiar with a large number of interesting psych issues. Here's one we all missed: People who think they're made of glass.

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What do Kennedy, Hoover and Sinatra have in common? Read the twisted tale of Louie Louie.

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President Obama has chosen his hometown of Chicago as the location for his presidential library - the most transparent library in the world.  Unfortunately, both books are classified so you can't read them.

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In the wake of the Baltimore lootings, Hillary Clinton has called for body cameras in every police department. Hey Hilly - how about body cameras for politicians?

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The gunman in the Mohammed cartoon attack in Texas was monitored by the FBI for years. See what happens when we give up our freedoms?  Nothing. The attack was stopped by law-abiding citizens with guns. Remember this the next time you're taking off your shoes at the airport. Or when Congress is reauthorizing the Patriot Act.

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One of my right-wing buddies sent me this.  Although I don't always agree with him, it's pretty funny:

One day a fourth-grade teacher asked the children in her class what their mothers did for a living.

All the usual answers came up -- teacher, nurse, businesswoman, saleswoman, doctor, lawyer, and so forth.

However, little Danny was being uncharacteristically quiet, so when the teacher gently prodded him about his mother, He replied, "Well my mother's an exotic dancer in a club and takes off all her clothes in front of men, and they put money in her underwear. Sometimes, if the offer is really good, she will go home with some guy and stay with him all night for money."

The teacher, obviously shaken by this bold statement, hurriedly set the other children to work on some exercises and then took little Danny aside to quietly ask him, "Is that really true about your mother, dear?"

Nope," the boy said, "She works for the Democratic National Committee and is helping to get Hillary Clinton elected as the next President, ...but I was just too embarrassed to say that In front of the other kids."

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This week's musical selection comes to you courtesy of Led Zeppelin, called The Rain Song. This is a song that comes up in rotation on my phone and computer and never fails to evoke a certain emotional reaction.  It starts with a really nice acoustic guitar (left), with an electric coming in on the other side. There's a brief slide there also. Your parents could listen to this too, as the strings come in for the instrumental verse section, which occurs pretty early for a rock tune.

Second verse, same as the first.  Then the bridge, where it starts to get heavy. John Paul Jones is the MVP in this song, providing strings, piano and bass. In case you care, I believe the strings were courtesy of the mellotron.*

The end comes as it started, with electric and acoustic guitars only and some great delay for the last chord. Listen to this song and tell me it doesn't affect you.

Upon us all, just a little rain must fall.

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*The best way to describe the mellotron is a keyboard instrument that plays a tape for each key/pitch.

Chicago, Chicago... it's a Wonderful Band

No matter how I tried, no matter how I used Official Phraseology, no matter how I financially justified, I could not stop my boss from sending me to Chicago.

But I don't like to travel....

But I've already been poorly trained on this...

But the company shoudn't waste their money...

But if I get near the TSA, I'm going to need bail money....

But since the boss asked nicely, I couldn't say no.  Well, I could say no, but I like my job.

WHAT DO JEWISH WOMEN MAKE FOR DINNER? RESERVATIONS

I have traveled all over the country in very strange ways but never have I gone through the blood, sweat and tears required to simply make arrangements for a flight and hotel. My colleague had everything done for her via our employer. Because I'm a different class of employee, I had to make my own reservations. And when I say make my own reservations, I mean get all sorts of estimates and submit them, allowing my employer to decide which fit within the financial guidelines.  My coworker got to stay in a really nice hotel, to which I was refused admittance, due to rate (although I suspect they didn't like my mustache). I booked a four star hotel via Travelocity, which, strangely enough, managed to look nothing like the rooms on their website. In fact, when I opened the door to my spacious suite, I immediately noticed that my room seemed to be missing half of its promised volume: it was a spacious closet with a king-size bed. And when I say spacious closet, it did not have a spacious closet, instead gracing me with a six-inch deep closet that required me to turn my jacket around so the door would close. But at least they had an iron. I knew I had arrived at my hotel when I noticed that the entrance was completely blocked by construction. This was to be a theme.

The room was on the 20th floor and featured a spectacular view of an alley. I dared not ask whose alley it was. I did get a spacious desk on which to work, featuring a chair that I suspect was older than me.

At the airports, I discovered there was a Qatar Airlines.  It turns out they have no set destination: they go wherever they're hijacked to that day.

When friends and relatives ask me how Chicago was, I say "Windy". They're not kidding when they call it the Windy City. Because O'Hare Airport was designed by drunk monkeys, there was no way to get from my terminal to my coworker's terminal, so I had to walk a few city blocks outside. If the direction was away from the wind, I could have let it carry me there, but no, I had to walk Triple Uphill to locate the terminal. The nice policeman I asked looked really confused until his partner told me to go outside and walk a few blocks. This would not have mattered except Work Rules stated only my colleague could rent a car - I couldn't.

Chicago has all the charm of Center City Philadelphia, without the on-street parking. I don't know about the rest of Chicago but our section required a car or public transport to go anywhere, which then required parking. Parking cost a week's salary, but only if you stayed under thirty minutes. Anything over an hour required a title loan, which, oddly enough, one could obtain approximately every two blocks.  In fact, you could not swing a dead cat without hitting a title place, a 7-11 or a Starbucks, most of which closed at six or seven, along with the restaurants. Because who wants to eat at a restaurant at six or seven anyway?

Chicago is also inordinately fascinated with the use of car horns. I truly believe that if a Chicago-an's car horn is broken, he can't drive. My colleague is from Texas and never hears car horns. Why? Guns.  

If you can't afford parking, there's always the elevated train system, which is organized by colors. My local transport was the Brown Line, so called because riding on it causes you to poop yourself. But I kid... I only had to stand for thirty minutes to get to my destination, accompanied by a very talkative blonde, droning on about marketing to her frustrated coworker, who strained desperately to get a word or grunt in here or there. It was like being forced to listen to your great aunt talking to your grandmother about World War Two housing.

The reason I found myself on the Brown Line (if you didn't watch out, you'd wind up on the Red Line, or, heaven forbid, the Pink Line - with stops at all shoe stores, as well as the theater district), was to visit a guitar institution in Chicago - the Chicago Musical Exchange. After much complaining by the internal voices about not staying in, I found myself at the door. CME was blessed relief after years of shopping in Philly, the black hole of music and musical instruments. There were new guitars, used guitars, vintage guitars, amps and a ton of used and new pedals. There were guitars I had only heard of. It was a blast except for the fact that their lefty section was a bit anemic. It illustrated precisely why the Philly area is such a wasteland. As if that weren't enough, their sales staff knew what they were talking about!

THE TSA

Why haven't I flown since we bombed Iraq? Because of the TSA. There were work polls about whether or not I'd get held for Special Screening. I have to admit that the agents of the TSA were quite nice and practical. When I arrived at the line, they asked whether I would prefer the groping or the full cavity search. I went all-in, so to speak. You don't get that kind of courtesy at the DMV. 

You have to take your shoes (sneakers) off, put your bag up and open your laptop. Then you go into the glass whirlwind room, where you stand there with your hands up (because you're being robbed) and some metal thingie moves around you, obviously to graph your tolerance to metal thingies moving around you. When you exit the phone booth, one of the nice, uniformed TSA people watches your image (while several others point and laugh), then it's off to the gate. Except in the case of my laptop, which they needed to sniff very closely, as the excess amount of dog hair obviously set something off. I asked what they were looking for and the fellow said powder. I assured him I couldn't afford that stuff and went about my business, cursing at a volume insufficient to trigger a Terrorist Alert. At no time did I yell 'SECURITY THEATER' or show them the Fourth Amendment I had tattooed upon my nether regions.

FLY BY NIGHT CAR RENTALS

As I mentioned, I wasn't allowed to rent a car, so my coworker and I went off to the rental place. We were greeted by some guy with teeth so white and so large, we were afraid that he would eat his own head at any moment. This does not surprise me, as a certain rental car company that I shall not name (but rhymes with Wenterprise) has the slimiest employees I have ever met. After the obligatory shaking of hands, I had to shower six times, with my clothes on. To be fair, everyone was polite and efficient, although it was amusing to watch two female employees fight over who had all the damn keys (for those of you playing along at home, it was Ashlee).

As we were in a foreign country (Chicago), we thought a GPS would be handy. Wenterprise thought so too, as they charged ten bucks per day to rent one. The GPS on my phone is so locked down I don't think I can ever enable it, so we decided on the rental GPS. That little Garmin did a wonderful job of getting us to the hotel. Unfortunately, it sucked at everything else.  Hungry, we asked it what was nearby and selected BBQ. Off we went, to the closest BBQ place, until we discovered the highway was closed. The Garmin wouldn't take no for an answer, so we went to the next closest place. This place literally didn't exist. The third closest place was fifteen minutes down the road and had changed hands to become a greasy chicken joint.  It took but a moment to figure out what was up here: there is no BBQ in Chicago - only a series of empty GPS promises to get you to visit non-BBQ restaurants.

After this great realization, we figured there would be more and better near the hotels.  Boy were we wrong. We wound up at a burger place on the first floor of a high rise. As it turned out, everything is on the first floor of a high rise in Chicago, with the exception of a very scary round parking garage, in which you back up to the edge, presumably before plummeting twenty stories, ala Fast and Furious 26 and 1/2.  

We quickly discovered that the Garmin was a tremendous tool, provided you didn't use it within ten miles of our hotels.  We were making a right onto my street while the Garmin was telling us to go up a few blocks and turn on a different street. It would recalculate in the middle of a street. In the end I threatened to drop it from the Sears Tower and Wenterprise was nice enough to not charge us for it.

Speaking of modern appliances, I attempted to use several to locate a restaurant near our hotels, to which we could walk (coworker's hotel required 30 minutes' notice to fetch our car). I asked Yahoo Maps, which provided about 1500 restaurants, each of which were either too fancy, too expensive or too closed. They also had the audacity to refer to McDonalds and Popeyes as restaurants.

I don't travel well (or frequently), although you're probably wondering why. The wife and the dog came to pick me up at the airport, but neither would admit to driving. One of them also sat on my lap and licked my face all the way home but I'm going to let you guess which.

I leave you with this wonderful exchange I had with a stewardess:

HER: Warm nuts?

ME: Why yes, they are.

THIS WEEK'S TUNE

I thought it might be interesting to start including links to some music I like. This particular piece of musical proficiency is brought to us by Lyle Lovett. It features some really spicy guitar, as does most of my music. Lyle's really underrated.

YOU - Get Outta the Box

For the longest time, I've seen online references to unboxing. As best I can tell, it's pictures or video of someone's new toy. Over at Reddit, I've seen a few unboxing pictures of guitar effects boxes and they bother the hell out of me. They're essentially pictures of the effect, sometimes with the box in which it came. And that's it.

I dunno about you but looking at a box then a product doesn't tell me a lot. I'm somewhat more interested in how the unit performs, even a subjective description.  When I repond this way, I'm roundly shouted down (because apparently people like to look at boxes and pictures without descriptions).

Spurred on by my wife's recent acquisition of a Samsung G6 phone (don't ask what happened to the old phone), I've been looking into new cell phones. We have different carriers (of course we do - we're married) so the range of available phones is slightly different. My current phone is a Samsung Galaxy III, which is approximately as old as dirt (in cell phone years). This phone has performed admirably across the years but I'd like something a little bigger and with more horsepower under the figurative hood.

After a small amount of research (who the hell wants to do days of intensive research - we want it NOW!), it would appear my choices are the G6 (how cute - matching phones) or the Droid Turbo. The G6 is newer, full of bling and features not-so-hot battery life (barely 24 hours officially, less in real life). Furthermore, it has no additional SD slot or replaceable battery (shades of iDevices).  The Turbo is actually a little larger and a bit heavier. This doesn't hold true at home, as someone (who shall remain nameless) purchased a phone cover with platinum-ish stone-looking protrusions on the rear, making it about as heavy as a Ford. The kids, as well as the mother-in-law, love it.

Continuing my reasearch, I located a genuine Droid Turbo Unboxing Video on YouTube. The fellow who was kind enough to share his observations started off by introducing himself, using a really Hip, Today Kinda Name that makes no sense but attempts to make his white self look more black. The screen consisted of two hands, gesticulating wildly. He starts off the 'content' section by picking up the black box containing the phone, commenting on how the box reminds him of older boxes for phones.

Seriously?

Seriously.

After this fascinating and enlightening commentary, Fly Boy actually opens the box. He takes out the phone and puts it aside, while moving on to the more interesting stuff: the charger and booklets. Eventually he gets around to picking the phone up and actually turning it on!  And then he does what everybody expects: he ends the video.

That's right, you heard that right, the video is over.

This made me angry enough to kill puppies.  I'm a pretty literal guy but an unboxing video is literally commenting on the box and taking out the item?  And people watch this stuff!  Are we too old to 'get' the internet? Someone please tell me this is a joke. Perhaps the sequel to this video features the host pulling the phone out of boxes made of different materials ("The phone definitely performs better when it comes from a cardboard box, as opposed to a plastic one").

Someone also please tell me if you have any recent experience with these or other cell phones. I hear good things about LG too but I don't think they're current.

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Michael Moore just tweeted "Disarm the police". This is as brilliant a strategy as bringing order to Baltimore by hiring temporary police from the KKK.

As It Turns Out, Babies Don't Bounce

Today's winning headline:

Thousands March Through Snow Protesting Global Warming.


Not even a close second:

Woman Pregnant With Quadruplets at 65!
Part of me is about to be ill. The other part of me hopes I'm still going strong at 65.

I can tell there are no credible threats to the president. I know this because the Secret Service had to scramble to catch a 4-year-old who snuck under the White House fence. I've met Secret Service people... apparently they're hiring different Secret Service people these days.

MUSIC(?) NEWS

Tahiti has succeded in setting the record for largest ukelele ensemble. There is good news and good news: not only have they set the record, we didn't have to listen to it.  In almost related news, China will introduce square-dancing rules, following complaints over disorderly "dancing grannies".  Say what you will about China, but they have some good ideas.  In still more news, Indian music lovers can now listen to Eric Claption's Layla in Sanskrit. How many times have you said to yourself, "Self, what I'd really like is to hear Layla in Sanskrit. Or Swahili."

Incredibly fortunate news here: The NSA has decided to kill the phone surveillance program.  In a completely unrelated story, the KKK has decided to kill the hate thing for the Jews and all brown-skinned people.

Today's Second Best Headline:

Glowing Tampons Help Detect Sewage Leaks.  I included the link in case you think I made that up.

You know whenever there's Philadelphia news, it's going to be amusing and this is no exception. Philly's mayor, Michael Nutter, has been dragging his feet on releasing the report on Comcast's customer service. Nutter has been sucking on the Comcast teat for years. As it turns out, customer satisfaction level was the lowest, by as much as 11%, of other Comcast franchise areas studied over the last six years. Strangely enough, Comcast's home, Philly, has the highest rates in the chart. As if we needed another reason to hate them. Not that Verizon's much better. This is what happens when the local legislators allow a duopoly on cable service.

In national news, the Defense Department keeps losing sensitive explosives gear, then finding it for sale on Ebay.  And we trust these folks to 'defend' the country? I wouldn't trust them to mow my lawn (and you know how I feel about mowing). Even more frightening is the chemical warfare center, Ft Detrick, keeps 'misplacing' all sorts of viruses. Unfortunately they're not showing up on Ebay.

The Facebook Strikes Again: Your chats may be scanned by a CIA-backed company. Of course it's safe to assume you're being tracked on Faceyspaces anyway...

WHO SAYS STRAIGHTS AND GAYS CAN'T GET ALONG?

TSA screeners in Denver set things up so a gay screener could grope the groins of male travelers he found attractive.  Of course this backfired when they got caught. The TSA writes its own material.

The 'You Could Never Have Seen This Coming' Department

Investors in legal marijuana are Tommy Chong and Snoop Dog. Tommy has his own special blend and Snoop invested in delivery (to the lungs?).

Be Very Quiet: Advertisers and the NSA Are Watching You

We here at Thermionic Emissions are very keen on privacy, or what little we can rescue of it. Allow me to share some ways to keep yourself safe(r) and less visible in these weird times. Follow most of them and you'll get the Thermionic Emissions Honorary Tinfoil Hat<tm>. Follow all of them and you won't be able to surf or see your email.

Here are the overwhelming, important items for any operating system and program: Use up to date software, patch your software, use a good antivirus. I'm a linux and occasional Windows user, plus android. While you won't find Mac-specific info here, some of this info will apply and most of the programs run on Mac or iDevices.

EMAIL

I hate to sound like a cave dweller but I long for the days of text-only email. No viruses.  Because we have to have formatted text, smilies, blinky lights and animated signatures, we're using HTML mail.

• You can adjust Outlook or Thunderbird (probably most others) to use plain text or RTF, which is a good first step, although you will miss the graphics and blinkies.  
• Turn off the preview pane, as this can set off a virus, although Outlook allegedly patched this. Better safe.
• STOP CLICKING ON LINKS. I don't care if it's allegedly from your BFF - don't click. Ask first.
• DON'T OPEN ANYTHING you don't recognize. Better yet, don't open anything. Check first.

SURFING

• Don't surf - it's dangerous.
• If you must search, use a safer browser. This means don't use Internet Explorer unless absolutely necessary. 
• Lock the browser(s) down. Turn off Flash, Javascript and cookies. Only use at highly trusted sites and get an extension that allows them per-site to make things easier for yourself. Surf in Privacy Mode or set the browser to delete everything when you close it.To surf more anonymously (but not totally invisibly), use TOR (The Onion Router). It's a little slower but worth it. Do not torrent or watch video - it will be painful and tax the system. It is composed of a specially configured version of Firefox and some invisible routing components. Read up at the site. It is available for multiple platforms.
• ALWAYS use HTTPS. This is a secure connection and much more difficult to eavesdrop upon. Don't bother typing it in - go to the EFF site and download their HTTPS Everywhere plugin for your browser. This will automatically search for an HTTPS version of the site and go to it.
• Do NOT set the browser to remember passwords, unless you want anybody in your house and the authorities to be able to use them too.
• When you set your browser to FORGET EVERYTHING after you're done, don't forget that History has to go also. This is also handy to hide some of those interesting sites you visit.

I use a bunch of browsers for different circumstances. Since I use linux, the only browser I can't run is Internet Explorer, which is good thing, as I don't like to use it when I use Windows.  Firefox is my main browser, which I keep pretty locked down. Qupzilla is a new, very fast browser that runs on most operating systems. It's not as full-featured as Firefox, which is probably why it's faster. Don't forget Opera, which is still around and even includes email. I use Qupzilla and Opera in various degrees of lockdown or open for different sites. 

Why not Chrome?  I'll tell you why not: it phones home. Isn't enough of your life sent to Google already?  If you absolutely insist on Chrome, use Iron or Chromium; they're both open source, free, the same code minus spying, and use all the same plugins. While we're speaking of Google, don't use it for searching: use Duckduckgo instead. It does not identify you or phone home. You can even make it the default search engine in all of your browsers. I use it exclusively.

One of the main reasons I use Firefox is plugins. Although other browsers have them, FF seems to have the best and most comprehensive plugins.  Here's what I recommend:

1. Adblock Plus: stops all ads, period. Just make sure to uncheck 'allow unobtrusive ads' if you want to.
2. Adblock Plus Pop-up Addon: self-explanatory.
3. Better Privacy: cleans up after you by deleting leftover garbage like tracking cookies.
4. Cookie Monster: allows you to block, accept or accept all but 3rd party (tracking) cookies on a per-site basis. I block all cookies by default.
5. Ghostery: blocks trackers and will show you what it blocks as the page loads. Comprehensive.
6. Noscript: blocks javascript on a per-site basis. I block everything by default.
7. Self-Destructing Cookies: blows away cookies when you leave the page. Very satisfying blow up notice.

Versions of most of these plugins are available for other browsers. (Hopefully) buried within the plugins' infomation is their privacy policy. This is very important, as it tells you what info is kept (leaked), if any. Be very careful here. Most leak info, some are downright unsafe.  If in doubt - AVOID.  Be aware that number of plugins will affect performance in all browsers. Check all available configuration options to get the best protection.

ON THE ROAD

Sure, all of us want to surf or check email when not home.  ALWAYS use HTTPS, especially on someone else's wireless network.  It's best to just not trust them.  Any of them.  Be paranoid.  Think before you act. Cell phones are especially troublesome, privacywise. Here are a few things I do with a new (android) cell phone:

• turn OFF all location tracking services (any locators or programs that suggest things based upon your whereabouts or allow you to check in).
• turn off GPS
• try to use (android) apps from F-droid. They're free and open-source and don't track you.
• go to your camera app and DISABLE geo-location, which stops your pictures from having your location on them. Ladies: what happens when you post a picture online with your precise location?
• be VERY careful what apps you use. Only download from F-droid or Google Play, otherwise you may get malware/adware/viruses. Only use apps with a privacy policy with which you agree.
• don't use the default browser - it doesn't get updated. Firefox and Dolphin are pretty good. Don't forget to have them delete everything when you're done or there will be a complete record. You can also get TOR (w/Firefox) on your android device to browse more privately. Don't play with Firefox's settings if using TOR or you could compromise your location or identity.
• Turn OFF your wifi when you leave the house. It's now being used to track and identify you at the mall, where a shopper profile will be built. It can't get your name but when combined with other databases, it will. All you need is two data points to get the third.
• Do you use voice control? Google and Apple  keep voice samples and, coincidentally, the FBI is very interested in obtaining voice samples around the world.

THE UNPOPULAR STUFF

Being the antisocial network guy, I avoid all the obvious sites and services. Let's face it: Facebook is the front page of the NSA.  Everything on the web is designed to track you, mostly for advertising, also for violation of your Fourth Amendment protections against unwarranted search (it's for the children). Just don't use social media (I told you this was unpopular).  People are putting their schedules and locations and sensitive info online. This is just stupid. Don't be stupid.

Don't use online (CLOUD!) services if you can help it.  I'm speaking of storage, like Dropbox, or reminder or social services. Remember: if you can't touch your data, it's no longer yours. Do you really need a to-do list accessible with your browser?  Use a piece of paper or get an app for your phone (that doesn't leak info or store data on someone else's server). Think about what you're downloading and where it stores your information. If you MUST use online storage, encrypt everything first. Encryption is beyond the scope of this post but there are many programs that will do this for you safely, like Truecrypt (still safe, although no longer updated) or its successor. Or zipped with an incredibly long, complex password (encryption is the first choice).

PASSWORDS

Don't allow any browsers to remember passwords or save information, as I said above. Everyone has so many passwords these days that no one can remember them. The solution is a password program, so you only have to remember one password, then you can get to the rest of the passwords, URLs and logins.  I really like Keepass. It's free, safe and available for most platforms, so you can run it on your phone (which is always with you) as well as your computer or tablet.  As you would expect, I strongly recommend not using online password services. There are other good programs for keeping passwords - check online and read the reviews first.

THE INTERNET OF THINGS

We love our buzzwords.  Just when we've had more than enough CLOUD, we're faced with the Internet of Things (IoT, or Idiots on Tour). These are very slippery, ill-defined terms. CLOUD is anything you're not doing on your home devices. Internet of Things is anything that you can access or control outside of the house. Guess what I'm going to say next..... go ahead.. guess!  Do you seriously want a light bulb that you can check on from work? A baby monitor or camera local people can eavesdrop on or remote people can tap into? A refrigerator that keeps track of what's inside and can order food? There is a search engine that tracks open devices all over the world. Some of yours might be there. There are unsecured video baby monitors listed. Do you want the entire internet to spy on your baby?

The security on these devices is non-existent or really not thought out well.  This speeding car is going to crash and it's not going to be pretty.  It's bad enough that your medical records are out where any two cent hacker can get them - soon your house will get hacked.  If you want that for the sake of monitoring lightbulbs, be my guest.  Same with smart watches, phones and your new car.

MY CAR?

Oh yeah, your car. If it's been made recently, it has a 'black box'. If you have an OnStar-like service, it can be listened to and you will be located with it. Do you have a toll saver so you don't have to pay? That will track you too. In some cases it has been used to locate 'criminals' and it's being considered as a tool to fine speeders (your time between getting the ticket and paying is too short, therefore you've been speeding).


Yeah, kids, it's not pretty out there. Do your best to stay under the radar. If you have questions, please ask or look up the info. You probably won't be able to access ThermionicEmissions from prison.

Why Did the Politician Cross the Road?

...because the Road Building PAC paid him to.

It was a glorious morning - the sun made a rare appearance and it was almost no-jacket weather. I mention this because I had to go outside to get the dog before I left for work. He was where he always is - facing the neighbors' house, waiting for his morning treat. He likes to ignore me at these times. In fact, this morning he hid in the bushes so I wouldn't see him.  This plan, although ingenious, failed because he didn't realize that there were no leaves or vegetation on the bushes - just bare sticks.

Our good friends at the Department of the Motherland Homeland Security are offering yet another service to make us safer: Family Reunification Program. This is where we pick up families from three South American countries (at the Mexican border, trying to sneak in) and give them free transportation and a special refugee/parole program with “resettlement assistance” and permanent residency.  Pretty soon DHS will be 'helping' with elections, drivers licenses and food shopping.


FOUR RING CIRCUSES

It's no secret that I live in a weird place, with a weird wife and weird pets. And I'm not exactly standard-issue either. But sometimes I long for a life in which gravity is one hundred percent effective and things don't blink in and out of existence with regularity.  Normal life is boring - I prefer something closer to the middle, though....

Yesterday was a pretty good day. Some of the Potholes of Death had been filled. It was better than I had a right to ask for.  I was expecting a good evening too, at least until I got home.

Upon opening my front door, I was greeted by a house full of smoke. It didn't occur to me to panic; instead I ran to the kitchen, from where the smoke seemed to be emanating.  I was full of wonder, wondering what had happened and which denizen did what to cause it.  Maybe the cat had once again taken up his hobby of leaping onto the stove, turning the gas on in the process.  Perhaps the dog had decided to have his cat food warmed first, as opposed to out of the cat bowl.

Nope... the wife was busily attending to the microwave, which housed some formerly exploded and burning potatoes and taken out the device permanently.  I opened windows and turned on fans, relieved that we didn't have to call outside help.  The police and fire folks occasionally stop by for a laugh when they're feeling down.

After that little bit of fun, Existential Agita started to set in. This is the state in which I start to question Stuff in the larger picture, which sometimes tends to be a little frightening. And frightening it was.. I don't know about other people, but I never have any idea what to expect when I return from slaving over a hot computer. Virtual children, Pet Damage, sleeping wives, things hurling themselves at guests, disappearing objects, fire, and people determined to flee the house for purposes of purchasing Code Red (Mt Dew which tastes kinda like maraschino cherry soda, heavy on the caffeine).  Weary, I climbed the steps, only to discover that the bedroom was every bit as full of smoke as the kitchen. Never let it be said that we do anything halfway.

What did this teach me?  That the next day, my coat and all of my clothes smell like exploded potatoes, which was only discovered on the way to work, in the car.  My new colleagues have already developed a healthy distaste for me.. this will only make matters worse (if it doesn't trigger the building's smoke detectors).

Perhaps a little less explosion would be nice.  Less people (and pets) bouncing off the walls. No trips to the Happy Place. No $250 Performance tires on the Hyundai. No $350 pet xrays. Not another idiot hitting the car EVER again. Fewer days in which the house looks like the aftermath of pets playing with explosives. No more of the wife preparing for a lucrative career in Chainsaw Juggling (or fish gutting).

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I have good news and bad news for you. Unfortunately I'm not sure which is which, so I'll leave the decision to you, my empowered readers:  

1. The Vatican exorcism course is set for April.
2. It's sold out.

Something called Azealia Banks, referred to as a rapper, has stated that she wants to f___ the president. I wonder what would happen if JZ stated that he wanted to f____ Michele Obama [Barack would be horrified and Michele would be on the first plane to LA].  Ok, bad example.  What if Bill Maher said he wanted to f___ Michele Obama. [Michelle would be on the first plane to NYC].  Ok, I give up, but you get the idea.

ABC is reviving The Muppet Show. Gee, I thought they already had with Beat the Press. Shows what I know.

Transvaginal Mesh Machinations

An Indian sprinter is protesting her lifetime ban from sprinting because she failed a gender test. How does one fail a gender test? Did they perhaps object to her writing the answers with her penis?

After watching way too much daytime tv, I've discovered what my ailment is: my transvaginal mesh is killing me. I shall now sue.

In England, a group of Parliament Members state that the names of sex offenders in England and Wales should not be made public until unless they are charged.  Gee, are we hitting too close to home? 

It's been a bad week for bass players. We said goodbye to Andy Fraser (FREE, 62), who was battling cancer and Aids. Fraser cowrote Alright Now. We also bid farewell to Mike Porcaro (TOTO, 59), who had ALS, although details were not provided.

New study finds that women who sleep more have more sex.  I, for one, am not getting more sex. Perhaps my wife is.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is finally getting some positive press! You should become a Pastafarian too.

SPOOKY ACTION AT SEVERAL PLACES

This morning I checked my phone and discovered that there were two calls from my brother at 4:30am. This could not have been good. I texted to ask if all was well and got a confused reply that all was fine, why? I told him I got two calls at 4:30 and he said there was nothing in his outgoing call log. Oddly enough, all I got was an alert - there were no calls received in my logs. As if this weren't enough, my mom's phone called my brother's phone around the same time. She made no such call. But she did receive a call from me at 4:25. There are no outgoing calls listed on my phone and I do not sleep-call.

I don't have any paranormal stuff happening at my house; things are weird enough without it. My parents have a phone that rings in their bedroom at odd times, although there is no phone in their bedroom.  And just to round things out, my brother's entire family heard a voice the other night, saying something to the effect of "Well, isn't that nice?". The children were frightened out of their wits. My brother cannot find any electronic reason that this happened - tablets, computers, toys.....

A MORNING IN THE LIFE

It started this morning as it usually starts: with me hauling my butt out of bed slowly and unwillingly, in utter disbelief that the alarm had gone off. I get dressed in the dark, so as not to wake the wife (on the odd occasions when she sleeps). Some would say I get dressed in the dark even with the light on. I went downstairs and let the dog out, at which point I put on my sneakers and saw the left leg of my pants, which had all sorts of dirt on it.  Damn impressive, as these were (allegedly) clean pants. Fortunately I saw them before I left for work.

Trudging back up the steps, I went for another 'clean' pair of jeans. I found a very clean looking pair which, when picked up, had a pair of interesting stockings caught in its zipper. How they got there, I have no idea (I swear!). I suppose it's downright Freudian that they were caught in the zipper. No amount of zipping, tweezing or wheedling would dislodge the errant stockings, so I had to use my teeth (not unlike normal). Finally I managed to get the pants on so I could go to work. Or so I thought.

In the bathroom was the tv remote. My electric toothbrush has been moving off its charger, next to some device that buzzes occasionally.  Yesterday my wife spent five hours looking for her cell phone. It was in her back pocket. My laptop had migrated under a table and there was a cup of dog food sitting on top of the dog food container, out in the open. There is a very large pot of viscous yellow liquid on the stove - no one knows why. When I asked what that pile of crumbs on the carpet was, I was told a snack.

Somebody's meds have failed. Whose meds is anyone's guess.
Have I mentioned stepping on a dog bomb this morning?


I suppose it was inevitable that I stumbled into a meme generator.


IF YOU EVER WANT PROOF THAT THE PRESS IS OWNED

Go no further than Reporters Give Hillary Clinton Standing Ovation after She Takes No Questions, Jokes about Email Scandal.  Complete drooling morons, doing what they're told and abdicating their responsibility to the country.

The latest mystery in New York City is the rising rate of syphilis. See what happens when you take away their extra large sodas?