Nightmare In Japan

Can barely believe the tsunami film coming in, showing cars speeding along as the wash of trash approaches.
Ten minutes later, the second wave.

Basic Cooking For $600

Well, there are worse things to do with your Microsoft gazillions.
I have a lot of other reading to do, though, so I don't think I'll be indulging in this.
Pictures are fabulous.

Soup: Gonna Make Some More

With Bittman's help and inspiration.
Warning: I thought his time on the bean types was way off and someone in comments caught it, too. So follow the directions on the package, Bittman erred I think.

We Are Not Broke, We Are Not Going Broke

Thank you, Michael Bloomberg, for starting something that employs this reporter, who, for my money, has produced perhaps the best, most comprehensive, most understandable piece on our economy since, since...since I can't remember another.
No blah-blah filler, no "on the other hand," false balance from the crazies and the frauds who get paid big bucks to lie to me, just dig-down real journalism for the average guy.
This is about as technical as I can bear, yet is hardly technical at all.
I want to quote every paragraph.
I think I'll email it, too.

Simple Dog and Helper Dog

A nice place to visit. In fact, I wouldn't mind living there.

We were beginning to think that our dogs were permanently broken

Human 3.0

To go where no man has gone before. But it must look familiar. Hmm.
Just recycle a few billion neurons and, voila!, you have speech, writing, music.

After all, the change from Human 1.0 to 2.0 is nothing short of universe-rattling: It transformed a clever ape into a world-ruling technological philosopher.

What will we make of ourselves in the future? Logically, it must be argued, it is already happening because it comes from culture. Or something like that.

Somebody Doesn't Like David Brooks

His name is PZ Myers and he's my hero of the day.

This:

it's like watching a creepy middle-aged man fuss over his Barbie and Ken dolls, posing them in their expensive accessories and cars and houses and occasionally wiggling them in simulated carnal relations

is priceless.

For the record, I loathe David Brooks. He is the reason I don't watch the PBS News Hour more often and avoid Friday afternoons on NPR because God knows when he'll pop up with some inane, inaccurate and pompous commentary.
And don't get me started on Tom Freidman, although NPR doesn't tag him. But Charlie Rose does. I love the way he spent a week commenting about the Egyptian thing from the safety of Jordan (or was it Israel, I forget) then popped into Egypt to give us his take on what the man in the street was saying once things had calmed down, all while wearing the most ridiculously age — and fashion — inappropriate black leather jacket I have ever seen. Ever.
Oh, God, just be glad I keep track of this stuff so you don't have to. I don't think I can keep it up much longer.
No, I know I can't.

I Wish I Had A Cat

to scan.

Probably The Most Impressive Part Of A Sentence

I can remember reading, written expressly for me. Thank you DFW.

believed in the interpenetrating dance of spine, nervous system, spirit, and cosmos as totality—in the universe as an infinite system of neural connections that had evolved, at its highest point, an organism that could sustain consciousness of both itself and the universe at the same time, such that the human nervous system became the universe’s way of being aware of and thus “accessible [to]” itself

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2011/03/07/110307fi_fiction_wallace#ixzz1FZ9k0VII

It's part of a short story of his that is inexplicably published in this month's New Yorker, and I am tempted to conclude his widow is releasing unpublished manuscripts at intervals. It's actually the first thing of his that I've managed to read, although I began the big novel with no hope of finishing it before it was due back at the library.
I resolved to buy it at the used book store. Today, I re-resolve.
I now realize that throughout my life, I have expected things to be solved at some point, to have myself achieved enough knowledge to conclude certain things beyond the platitude "uncertainty is the only certainty."
Seems fruitless, I know.

And that's what the story is about, it turns out. I should mark this date on my calendar.

He did not yet know how, but he believed, as he approached pubescence, that his head would be his. He would find a way to access all of himself. He possessed nothing that anyone could ever call doubt, inside

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2011/03/07/110307fi_fiction_wallace#ixzz1FZDt6DR2

Thank You, Dr. Krugman

(I wouldn't call him Dr. just because of his Ph.D. But he has a Nobel.)

after a long hard day of reading student applications. (My suggestion that we reject all applicants claiming to be “passionate” about their plans was rejected, but with obvious reluctance.)

Anyway, thanks for reminding me the word "passionate"/passion needs to go on the list.

So, to rehash:
awesome
amazing
lifechanging
passionate

Awesome Is So 2009, Amazing So Yesterday

so everything became amazing, which still seems to be in fashion judging by last night's red carpet interviews and commentary. (Did Tim Gunn say amazing? Not once, but, like, every five seconds.)
But I predict that the next word to go to the top of my list-of-words-I-never-want-to-hear-again is...wait for it...lifechanging.
You heard it here first. I don't remember where I first heard it. I only know I don't ever want to hear it again.

The Old Is Dying

and the new cannot be born. In this interrugnum there arises a great diversity of morbid symptoms."

 Jon Taplin, long may he live and prosper even though he's deserted one of my favorite bogs for a better job that precludes sudden-opinion syndrome, (Oh, look, I coined a new word!) shows up at TPM today with something to say.
It's the word morbid that bothers me.

Two Moon Poems

arrived today from poets.org.
The one from David Rivard, roughly a contemporary, made me want to argue with some of his word/metaphor choices. I wouldn't put a frisbee in a poem. And I don't think of a banjo when I see a moon. But I persisted to the end and was rewarded.

No need to see my life as a story the world
has to read, no need for sentimental
mooning & nostalgia—blessed with a bit
of amnesia anyway, I don't recall much
of what went down. I know that it's engraved
there on some cellular level,  that I can't
command the consequences. Like a spider
who has climbed atop a survey stake in a bull-
dozed field, I feel slightly truer in any case.

The other poem was the one a friend got, and when she put it up in her status on Facebook, I did a double take. That isn't the poem I got, I thought, and went to check.
The picture in John Haines's profile on the Web site, he is so handsome. I wanted to throw myself at his feet. And he's still alive, and was born the same year as my father. You don't see portrait photos like that anymore.
Each of the moon poems is listed on the other's page. I don't know if they're related as containing moons or as containing wisdom.

Over and out.

I Didn't Know That Dept.

Who needs a job, I learn something new every day on the intertubes.
Case in point, reading about Anonymous' recently announced plan to attack the Koch brothers, I am led from the subject of DoSs (denial of service attacks, which is how Anonymous retaliated against the credit card companies that had refused to handle money for Wikileaks) to black faxes to lace cards, the earliest form of computer sabotage, not outmoded of course.
Reminds me of the girl, physics major, who rigged all the phones in the dorm to ring at 4 a.m.
Wonder where she is now. Her mistake was in not remaining anonymous.
I've been fascinated by the idea of cyberterrorism ever since I saw Richard Clarke, the former White House cyber security expert, discuss it on Frontline following 9/11.
There is now credible evidence that we did, indeed, fuck with Iran's nuclear program.
But from what I remember reading at the time, we had to have a real person or persons able to physically implant something inside something, so not totally cyber.
And we have pilots flying cyberdrones against AQ in Afghanistan.
Wonders.

Stagecoach Mary

Where would Contrarienne be without MetaFilter? Nowhere, that's where.

"Mary Fields was born in 1832, into slavery in Tennessee, where she was friends with the farm owner's daughter. She was taught to read and write while a slave, and stayed on Judge Dunn's farm for some while following emancipation. Her childhood friend, Dolly Dunn, went on to become a Ursiline nun. Dolly Dunn, then known as Sister Amadeus, invited Mary Fields to join her at the Ursuline convent in Toledo, Ohio. Sister Amadeus was soon assigned to become the headmistress at a convent in Montana, where she fell ill with pneumonia. Mary Fields hadn't first traveled out with Sister Amadeus, but now went to help her sick friend recover. After her friend, now Mother Amadeus, was better, Mary decided to stay on and help the nuns repair the building. Unfortunately, Mary was too hot-tempered, and thought to set a bad example for the children (or maybe the men in town were tired of her out-earning them, and maybe she shot a man in self defense), but she was sent away from the mission, with some financial backing from Mother Amadeus. Mary started a cafe, but was a poor cook with a big heart, and the restaurant ran out of money in short order. She was given a mail route that she ran for eight years, where it was her toughness and reliability that earned her the nickname Stagecoach Mary. She also earned her reputation for being tougher than most any man, out-shooting, out-drinking and out-working them all. After her stagecoach days, Mary was in her 70s, so she took it easy and opened a laundry service, though it's said she spent more time at the saloon than at the laundry shop. She also spent time in her garden, where she'd collect flowers to present to the local baseball team. For every game, she would fix buttonhole bouquet for the members of each team and five large bouquets for each of those who made home runs. She also offered her services as a babysitter for $1.50 a day, which she'd then spend on the little ones."

A New Species

Pre-adults. I'd like to see some numbers about this social phenom and I hope the book has them. But, yeah, from what I can see of pop culture and the youngers in my vicinity, it's true. And troubling. And a function of our (false) prosperity. So about to go down the toilet anyway.

Snow Makes A Guy Hungry

It Is Not Snowing Today. Yet.

I Can't Help It

I have a new toy.

I CAN HAZ U TUBES?

YAZ U KAN

I Didn't Know That Dept.

While you might think of coffee as merely a good caffeinated drink, the seeds of the Coffea plant represent the second most important legally traded commodity, following oil, in terms of dollar value, writes Mark Pendergast in Uncommon Grounds.

Stephen Pinker Explains Egypt

at about 8:40. Also, why things went the way they did at that meeting with my bosses. Although I guess I kinda knew it, it's nice to have it explained to me.
Hint: You can't take it back, it's out there.

Ziggy! Ziggy! Up You Lazy

OOh, whoozamamababywhooza.

Winston! Still now, Winston. Whoozawoozaaw.http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/02/16/sports/20110216-westminster-dog-show-parade.html?src=me&ref=general#/0_90

Kabuki, Long Game, Whatever

Andrew links to Ezra on this and, frankly, it's about as much as I want to know or think about this. If you want more, you can always click the link.

Shearing

My friend, I'll call her Shelley, and I were sophisticated jazz fans at 14 because of our fathers. My father had been a Big Band man, Basie and Glenn Miller and the two guys whose names I'll remember in 20 minutes who arranged for Miller before breaking out on their own. I wish I had those records now.
Her father was a jazz DJ at a local Milwaukee station.
We decided we would attend the George Shearing concert when he came to town, get dressed up and take the bus down and back all by ourselves. And we did.
We wore identical pleated white polyester skirts, which were in style at the time. Every girl in our school had one.
Shelley was a cool girl and fat like me, so we had that. And jazz. But for some reason, we did not become close. Maybe it was the year I moved to Omaha and it was cut short. In which case, I was 15.
(Sauter-Finnegan, their names were Sauter and Finnegan and their band was the Sauter-Finnegan band.)
Shearing was great. You could hear him, blind, kind of humming while he played.
I listened to the record we had of him all the time.

Purely Coincidental

15 Things Kurt Vonnegut said better than anyone else.
And so it goes. They leave out the and, so I guess it's my own little Vonnegut mash-up.

Summer Will Come

OMG, I'm Back!

Only a week? Felt like a year.




MeFiers have some interesting discussion of this song, which still gives me chills lo these many years later. Sex on a stick, as they say.
I have no pop music awareness, really, or interest except when they hit on something and then I love to read about it.

A Reagan Primer

In the WaPo of all places.

Frisbee Alternative

I guess I need a tetherball set now. And another corgi.

I Miss Deadwood Because It Was Great Drama

but also this (NSFW)

And They've All Got Facebook Pages

No Comment

anything at all would be superfluous.

A Crocodile
by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Hard by the lilied Nile I saw A duskish river-dragon stretched along, The brown habergeon of his limbs enamelled With sanguine almandines and rainy pearl: And on his back there lay a young one sleeping, No bigger than a mouse; with eyes like beads, And a small fragment of its speckled egg Remaining on its harmless, pulpy snout; A thing to laugh at, as it gaped to catch The baulking merry flies. In the iron jaws Of the great devil-beast, like a pale soul Fluttering in rocky hell, lightsomely flew A snowy trochilus, with roseate beak Tearing the hairy leeches from his throat.

The Attorney General of California

looks like a movie star. I had no ideal until Charlie Rose had her on tonight discussing the SOTU speech. Why her? No idea.

Benjamin, One Word

graphene

Ah, Yes. January. Midwest.

In this case, Stow, Ohio.

Tiger Mothers

By now you've heard about the Tiger Mother controversy, right?
No? Okay, well there was this Chinese American Harvard Yale law prof who wrote this NYT WSJ op-ed piece about how she drove her two daughters to specified goals, wouldn't let them have sleepovers even, and threatened all sorts of wildly lunatic reprisals just because she loved them and wanted them to succeed and by the way, please buy the book about it.
So after that it was a long, is she right, is she wrong debate, mostly among men but some women, too, including at least one Chinese American daughter of a lunatic mother who begged to differ about the approach.
Me, I pretty much got over wondering if I was some sort of a monster because I took a more laisse faire approach, since it's fairly clear I am a monster, but not necessarily because of that. But who knows?
Anyhoo, the debate is still going on and I found this great quote:

It’s just way better to be the world’s best acrobatic kite-surfer than the third best pianist in Cleveland. Also, the ethos of hyper-individuation is about activity/personality search and matching. It’s better to be happily mediocre at something you love than miserably amazing at something that never quite felt right.

I'm not sure it's right, but then I'm not sure of much. Although I can talk a good game.

Quote O' Teh Day

Thank you, Andrew Sullivan. Thank you for saying this. It's about the torture, of course, which Bush has gladly, proudly admitted to.
I used to read Scott Horton every day. Then I couldn't stand it anymore.

Under international law, George W. Bush is a war criminal. There is no dispute about that outside a tiny coterie of legal mediocrities and political hacks and a general public as yet unable to grasp that their ex-president should be in jail.)

Which gets me to thinking, how many known, living war criminals do we have, the U.S. and Britain. Is is agreed Kissinger is a war criminal? McNamara and minions, I guess, can't remember if he's still alive. Sullivan says the jury's still out on Blair.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

"...a free intelligence, a type hated with equal hatred by all the smelly little orthodoxies which are now contending for our souls."

 Orwell on Dickens. This is from a piece Andrew Sullivan is pondering as he ponders the call for civility following Tucson. Me, I learn where I can.
Smelly little orthodoxies. Love that. 

The Dowager Dutchess

"One can't got to pieces over the death of every foreigner. We'd all collapse the minute we opened a newspaper."

I love Maggie Smith and I love Downton Abbey.

That is all.

Previously.
"What is a weekend." (accent on the second syllable, can you hear it?)

Quote O' Teh Day

"Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd." - Voltaire

From this, which came from this, which came from this.
It started here.

It's all in the oneness, right? Is the internet God?

No Bunnies Today

Candygram

Pretty Good One This Morning

Pericardium
 by Joanna Klink                 

 Am I not alone, as I thought I was, as I thought
The day was, the hour I walked into, morning
When I felt night fly from my chest where prospect had
Slackened, and close itself off, understanding, as I thought I did,
That the ground would resist my legs and not let them
Break nor let them be released into air as my heart, in its
Muscle, might be released from the body that surrounds it,
Like someone who, placing a hand on a shoulder's
Blade, felt a life move inside an hour and a day
Break from the day the hour meant something more than weakness,
More than fear, and flew forward into the depths of
Prospect, your arms, where you'd been, before me, waiting
For me, the way the body has always been waiting for the heart to sense
It is housed, it is needed, it will not be harmed.

SNL:Jan. 8, 2011

Pretty good show tonight, and when I watch, I'm usually disappointed.
Actually laughed out loud quite a bit, always a good test.
Thanks, Lorne.

Congress Shall Make No Law

ever again.
A cutting satire from David Cole at WaPo.

I Have A New Guru

His name is Andrew Oliver Burkeman. I chose him because of this. Other than that, I know very little about him.

“Give up on yourself. Begin taking action now, while being neurotic or imperfect, or a procrastinator, or unhealthy, or lazy, or any other label by which you inaccurately describe yourself. Go ahead and be the best imperfect person you can be and get started on those things you want to accomplish before you die.”

Japanese psychotherapist Shoma Morita,

Jorge and Alexa

Cover a song by the Acoustic Zeroes. Sullivan says this was viral in 09. I never saw it, so how could it have been viral? Besides, it still has less than 700,000 hits.

I Liked This Today

The 7 Bowls of Tea

The first bowl of tea moistens my throat,
the second breaks my loneliness, and
the third bowl racks my brains, bringing to light the texts of 5,000 volumes.
The fourth induces perspiration whereby all ills evaporate through my pores.
The fifth makes my muscles and bones feel light, and
the sixth links me to celestials.
Be careful when drinking the seventh bowl,
as it makes you feel as if a cool breeze were coming from your armpits.

--Lu Tung

And For Today...Bunnies!

First this bunny.


Then these bunnies. I'll look for more.

Dave Barry

Reminds us why we're glad it's over.

Brain Stuff, Brain Stuff, Brain Stuff

My favorite stuff.

In other words: one night someone else went to sleep and woke up as me. I do a lot of the same things as him but I know that I'm not the one who came up with them. I like a lot of the same things as him but I know I didn't discover them. Otherwise I act in ways that he wouldn't have thought of and found new stuff to like that he wouldn't have recognized. I've taken that poor bastard's place and he barely even realized it was happening. It's awesome.

And Then There's Randall Jarrell

"Say Good-bye to Big Daddy"

Big Daddy Lipscomb, who used to help them up
After he'd pulled them down, so that ''the children
Won't think Big Daddy's mean''; Big Daddy Lipscomb,
Who stood unmoved among the blockers, like the Rock
Of Gibralter in a life insurance ad,
Until the ball carrier came, and Daddy got him;
Big Daddy Lipscomb, being carried down an aisle
Of women by Night Train Lane, John Henry Johnson,
And Lenny Moore; Big Daddy, his three ex-wives,
His fiancee, and the grandfather who raised him
Going to his grave in five big Cadillacs;

Big Daddy, who found football easy enough, life hard enough
To -- after his last night cruising Baltimore
In his yellow Cadillac -- to die of heroin;
Big Daddy, who was scared, he said: ''I've been scared
Most of my life. You wouldn't think so to look at me.
It gets so bad I cry myself to sleep -- '' his size
Embarrassed him, so that he was helped by smaller men
And hurt by smaller men; Big Daddy Lipscomb
Has helped to his feet the last ball carrier, Death.
The big black man in the television set
Whom the viewers stared at -- sometimes, almost were --
Is a blur now; when we get up to adjust the set,
It's not the set, but a NETWORK DIFFICULTY.
The world won't be the same without Big Daddy.
Or else it will be.

Global Warming, The Mountains In Siberia And You

Climate change is causing winter weather extremes. Oh, you already knew that. Did you know about Siberia? Or the reason the East Coast's storm today came up from the Gulf? You think you're so smart, how come you're not rich?
Love,
Inner Bob

20 Years Ago Today

 The Web was born. This MeFite composed a little something to commemorate it:

And there were in the same country physicists abiding in the field, keeping watch over their particles by night.
And, lo, Tim came upon them, and the glory of the Nerd shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And Tim said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of Geneva a Server, which hosts The World Wide Web.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the text wrapped in angle brackets, hosted on a NeXT computer.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of hosts with hamsters dancing, and saying,

Glory to the Web

in bold, and on the 'net peace, and good will toward men.

THIS SITE IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

Oh Yeah, That George Bush

A little review of the book.

A pup in a valley of alpha males, inadequate compared to Dad, humiliated by Mother, he classically became a bully to compensate: an ass-brander, noted for what he calls verbal ‘needling’; a boss who cussed out his subordinates and invented demeaning nicknames for everyone around him; a president who taunted terrorists, most of them imaginary, and challenged them to ‘bring it on’.

Auld Ang Syne (sp?)

I am no stranger to nostalgia for the year gone by, nor is TPM. Time for the Golden Dukies!

No, It Doesn't Ruin Obama's 2012 Chances

and other quick census facts.

Women On The Rise

I haven't watched this yet, but Andrew Sullivan's got it up and I trust it's worth 16 minutes of your time.

PNS Needs Some Love

so send some.

You're welcome.

Laugh Til Ya Criday!

Poem In Kodacolor

What should have been a good day, could have been a good day, has left me unsettled. I let the discomfort, the dissatisfaction overcome the comforts, the satisfactions. Then I went and dug in to what I knew would be even more discomfort.
But any time I want to read a poem again, and then again, I know I should put it up. Because that hardly ever happens.

Swimming in the Presence of Lurid Opposition
by Sawako Nakayasu

Summer camp, swim class, Tokyo, a group of no more than twenty ants all donning their respective swimming caps, some with images of their favorite anime characters printed on the fabric. Forward progression, assisted by a rhythmic movement of ant limbs, just like the instructor instructed, forward forward progress, forward forward progress. The slowness, agonizing slowness of such, such poor swimmers these ants, most likely in the beginner class for sad ants with little ability. And then the However, the Big But, the Truth that reveals itself only after zooming out and away from what used to be a close-up shot of ants in an unusually colored swimming pool, such as red or green or pale fuchsia or celadon, the distance revealing the inherent difficulty of making a swimming pool out of a still-wet oil painting, the artist and brush hovering nearby like the evil clouds that they are.

Everybody Loves A Ball Pit

or:
aphid? aphid? APHID! DIE DIE DIE. no. no. not aphid. fuck. aphid? aphid? APHID! DIE DIE DIE. no. not aphid. fuck. aphid? aphid? aphid? APHID! DIE DIE DIE. no. no. not aphid. fuck. aphid? aphid? APHID! DIE DIE DIE. no. not aphid. what the fuck is going on? aphid? ...

Deck The Halls

P.S. I should have credited my friend, PS, for this video.

For The Record

For the very first time, I correctly guessed the city and country of Andrew Sullivan's weekly View From Your Window contest.
I am disappointed he did not choose to quote my email, which I entered pretty early on Saturday and I thought was pretty good.
Maybe it's because I forgot to put Paris, France in the subject line and only put Paris. I mean, I could have meant Paris, Texas, right?

Proof? You want proof? I'll give you proof.

I love doing screen shots.

Hard Choice

This? $2,450?

Or this, $15 from Fancy Feathers consignment, PT?

SMUG, just so smug.

Schweddy Balls

I need a laugh, you need a laugh, how about nine of them?

Oops, SNL's all over at Hulu now and full of ads and they load slow. Here. Merry Christmas season.

Tough Choice

Should I read Larkin or Auden for the holiday season?

Man hands on misery to man
        It deepens like a coastal shelf
Get out as early as you can
        And don't have any kids yourself

“

”

"This Be The Verse" from High Windows

Maybe Auden's wretched infant, hmmm?

Auden, definitely Auden.

Comment O' Teh Day

or Why I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Internet

This is a bit long, but this guy really knows his stuff. Every so often someone like that happens along and I know I am not wasting my time.

Okay, it's way long. And usually I am wasting my time. But it's MY time. Zog gave it to me.

Herewith, Zentrails' opinion of the Navy's new superweapon:

Rail guns can only accelerate things to around Mach 6, so a 5", 3 foot projectile is not going to have that kind of kinetic energy. This idea is actually a very old idea, which was stupid right from the beginning.

The idea was called "rods from God" and the premise was that you launch exceedingly heavy rods of tungsten which would then reach a target ballistically. They needed to be about 20 feet long and at least a foot in diameter for a number of reasons. They would heat up to tremendous temperatures, like the space shuttle did when the insulating tiles failed, which would cause a large amount of the mass to vaporize, but it would be at very high temperature as well as velocity, so combining the two would give you a huge amount of energy to hit the target with.

The rail gun rods would not be as effective as space launched projectiles because of the Mach 6 limit and the fact that they'd experience friction right from the get go, so they would not only heat up on the upward trajectory, but also slow down. Then they'd fall the the target pretty much like a conventional bomb would.

They were supposed to be "dropped" from orbit so that the target area would be hit without any warning and with no way to know where it came from. The idea was idiotic, since you can't "drop" something from orbit. You have to use rockets to slow the tangential speed to get it to leave orbit and start coming down. And even then, it doesn't "drop" down, but rather spirals down as a very hot and very easy to detect object.

It was finally determined that a few GBU-28's would work a lot better, especially considering that it wouldn't take too much to figure out who launched the attack, thus completely removing the original idea altogether.

You can't get the accuracy they are claiming AND the kinetic energy they are claiming at the same time. You can either make it out of a rod of metal, or you have to make it more like a rocket with a guidance system that would need to sur4vive the g forces and high temperatures.
It's an old military propaganda trick to make relatively minor threats seem much more deadly. Example: N Korea has modified SCUD missiles which might be able to reach the US. N. Korea has crude uranium 235 nuclear weapons. Therefore, N. Korea could attack us with a nuclear ballistic missile. The problem is that the nuclear weapon they have is far, far too heavy to be launched by a multiple stacked SCUD missile. Same is true for Iran.

The fact is that the surface navy is obsolete for any kind of defense and can only be used offensively against countries that can't fight back with decent missiles.

That's right. Our surface navy is a first strike weapon only. That's pretty depressing to think about. We've become the new British Empire and we're on the way down, unless we start making some drastic changes in our military strategies.

This stupid idea seems to pop up periodically as if it were a new and brilliant idea. It reminds me of the notion of using popcorn instead of foam "peanuts" as an ecologically friendly way of packing boxes of stuff. The idea sounds good until you think it through. You see it suggested every five years or so.

Because I Can

"Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates melancholy from happiness."

Orlando, 1992

It's Almost Caturday!

I no longer keep cats. I can't keep cats. That's why I do this.

Cher

bought a great pair (scroll down).
I know, that was catty. I didn't say that about The Mirren. I should have.
I love Cher, I do.

Life Is Good

Second day of sunshine and lunch at the Hanazono Asian Noodle shop next to The Rose Theatre, so far showing nothing I want to see. Where's Black Swan, huh, huh?
Anyhoo, sea urchin sashimi, spring roll and eggplant sashimi. Urchin okay (the waitress said I was very brave) but I wouldn't order it again, weird texture, tasty though. First time I've had raw fish in a really, really long time. Next time, I'm trying the eel, she made it sound really good.

It's Silly

But it's my Discovery O' Teh Day.

Hang On Olga, Olga Hang On

Olga Koltelko, 91: Track Star


There's a long, long story, too, about scientists studying people like Olga to find out more about the aging body and maybe help the rest of us.
Short answer: resistance training.
Yeah, yeah. I'll get a job in the morning, Mom.

Liar O' Teh Year

PolitiFact has the contest. You be the judge.
(I'm going with the stimulus/no jobs thing, but the $20m India trip will probably win. More visceral. More immediate.)

Wiki Who?

TPM links to an interesting essay on Assange this morning that, despite its use of the word propaedeutic — I mean, WTF?— I think is worth some thought.

The idea is that increasing the porousness of the conspiracy’s information system will impede its functioning, that the conspiracy will turn against itself in self-defense, clamping down on its own information flows in ways that will then impede its own cognitive function. You destroy the conspiracy, in other words, by making it so paranoid of itself that it can no longer conspire.

What's struck me about the ongoing debate and the Republicans and others screaming to see Assange strung up in the public square, is that ordinary people, who unlike me are probably hearing all kinds of screaming about this from their broadcast news, probably don't give a fuck.
They care about their financial situation first and foremost and they know it's in dire peril and Wikileaks does not seem to have a direct connection to being able to pay the mortgage next month.
Or, as one commenter said another way, none of it really matters to the people who matter.

Laptopistan

A fun place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

A quick glance around shows I have brought my laptop, a month-old MacBook Pro, to its nesting ground. Diversity here means the odd white MacBook or old black PowerBook scattered amid the silver MacBook Pros. Throughout the week I will see only a handful of PCs, each looking sadly out of place, like they have arrived at a black-tie affair in a corduroy blazer.

No phones allowed, for one thing. Harsh.

She Who Must Not Be Named

Get over it, he says.
Okay.

Experiment O' Teh Day

The Waffle Shop is run by Calvary Episcopal Church in Memphis. I want to go to there.
I should know how to take a screen shot of their menu, but you'll have to download it yourself because I'm too tired to learn that tonight, I've been fooling around with the scanner and my brain is fried.
So much for the experiment part of this. Just a linkie.

Oh, okay.

There, happy?

Sigh. Click to enlarge.

Did I mention, open only during Lent. Forgot that part.

I mean, how many times have you seen buttermilk on a beverage menu? Like, never.
It's worth the wait. And the trip. Tomato aspic. Gizzards and rice. Chess pie.
Giblets, I meant giblets. Same thing, really.

What They're Listening To These Days

If you'd like to know, there's this.
I haven't tried this because I haven't a clue what happens when I download MP3. I mean, does it go into my iTunes library so I can listen to it? Maybe I'll try it tomorrow. It won't break my computer or anything, will it?

P.S. Um, apparently it takes a long time. 29 minutes. Can I do other things while it's downloading?
I'd ask somebody but it's embarrassing.

P.S.S. OMG, Gil Scott-Heron's on this list.

Bacon! Bacon!

Is Kevin Bacon the new Old Spice guy?
No. But still.

Quote O' Teh Day

sort of like blogging, only easier.

Who else but Gawker on the operation of the 23-year-old Russian spammer believed responsible for, oh, I dunno, a lot of it.

Cheney Countdown

I was shocked to see the picture of Dick Cheney that accompanied the Nigeria story today, and zipped off a quick email to TPM saying so. Yeah, someone replied, he's deteriorated a lot since the last procedure.

Watch Out!

For that skull-lurking monster, no telling what it's up to. Sorry, I kinda love this stuff.

As you read these words, your brain is taking in all kinds of sights and sounds, and zeroing in on a few. It is recalling what you have learned about the forms of letters, the meanings of words, and what information you hope to find on this website. Your brain is making decisions and forming new memories. All the while, it is helping you stay alert and steadily breathe.

Steve Martin Tweets

and suddenly it's news, here, here and here.
Don't waste your time there, just waste it here:

My Happiness Is Not Complete Without...

chocolate covered preserved walnuts.
Just for fun, spend an afternoon with the NYT 2010 gift guide and tell Santa what you need.
...or maybe a Sound Asleep Pillow. Shorty hates it when I listen to music in bed. Interferes with her scratching.

Bad, Bad Charlie Rangel

Talking Points Memo explains for readers who don't really get the difference between reprimand and censure:

Reprimand is harsh looks. Censure is harsh looks with finger wagging.

YouTube Kitty Porn

This is why there is an internet, no matter how long AT&T tried to keep it from us.


All day, all the time.


You were warned.

Today's Political Joke

courtesy of my friend, Barb W.

A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below on a lake. She shouted to him, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."

 The man consulted his portable GPS and replied, "You're in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above ground elevation of 1,346 feet above sea level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude.

 "She rolled her eyes and said, "You must be an Obama Democrat."

"I am," replied the man. "How did you know?"

 "Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct. But I have no idea what to do with your information, and I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me."

 The man smiled and responded, "You must be a Republican."

 "I am," replied the balloonist. "How did you know?"

 "Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you're going. You've risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You're in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but somehow, now it's my fault."

Seems He's A Fuckin' Math Major

Chloe's story about this guy who asked her out is for those of you who are not besieged with the usual today. The MeFi comments are even better.

I Didn't Care About Bristol Palin

But I did care about Tom DeLay.
Oh, happy, happy Thanksgiving.

Nice To Meet You

Long, but fun.

The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Noon, 11-22-10. Eight inches and counting.

My New Prayer

Please, oh Tangled One, protect me from believing I know that which I do not know. (P.S. And prevent me from pretending to others that I know what I do not know. Shoot me if you must.)
Thank you.

Just In Time For The Holidays

Oh, The Humanity

A guy makes an art blog out of Google street view shots. A bit heavy on street whores and Segways, but that's kinda cute, too, in'nt?

For an alternative take:

Revenge

is a dish best served cold, as this is a day best spent indoors.

Me: Is that a false equivalency?
My Brain: I think so.
M:Thanks
MB:Any time

Quote O' Teh Day

"Willow, no boys, go upstairs."

Bwahahaha!

Sarah Palin, on her new Discovery Channel Show

Buck Up

Continuities
 by Walt Whitman                  

           (From a talk I had lately with a German spiritualist)

Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form—no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space—ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold—the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.