Crankypantsing

Hey Andy…!

I thought this might amuse my brother, as he, too, is a fan of the weird and wonderful.

I’m sick to death of the ubiquitous rubber wristbands. They seemed like an okay idea at first, but now, not only is there one in every color, for every cause, but you can even buy multi-colored packages of them, which boggles the brain. It’s bad enough that they’re everydamnwhere, but at least their existence had a purpose beyond mere adornment. Why would someone want to wear such an arse-ugly piece o’ cheap crap?

And then, while perusing Teh Internets, I came across this: The Original Cthulhu Fhtagn Wristband. The Old Ones are coming, folks, so spread the word! Also, Save Cthulhu! And, lo! Cthulhu house slippers! Cthulhu hats! Cthulhu backpacks!

Can magnetic Cthulhu car ribbons be far behind?

Ladybusiness

To Clarify

It occurs to me that y’all may find a couple of things I said previously to be inconsistent. Let me explain. I think Oprah, and others who encourage cosmetic surgery, are doing their audience a disservice. I especially think that describing an untested medical procedure–one done for purely cosmetic reasons–as do-it-on-your-lunch-hour easy-peasy, is immoral. For some unfathomable reason, Oprah has a huge audience that is eager to take her every word as gospel truth, and she’s making giant buckets of money when she doles out advice. That’s an awesome power to wield, and by using it to pimp cosmetic surgery, she is abusing it. That, I think, is evil.

On the other hand, we have the consumer end of the spectrum. First, these sorts of choices–while I tend to think they are made by people who have been manipulated by folks like Oprah–are deeply personal. I think it is unfortunate that cosmetic surgery has become ubiquitous, and that in all too many cases, it is seen as something that is necessary. But, I don’t think there is anything morally wrong with having cosmetic surgery.

Second, the case I referenced yesterday involved reconstructive surgery, which is a whole ‘nother kettle of fishes. The woman who had the face transplant procedure had lost a large portion of her face when she was attacked by her dog. She had trouble talking and eating, and the surgery will, hopefully, rectify that.

In other news, I went to game night at some friends’ house. It was well worth braving sleet, freezing rain, and snow, in order to attend. I offered to drive (my neighbor went, too), and as I was preparing to leave, I thought about what had possessed me to volunteer to drive to Bloomington (a 50 mile round trip) in such craptacular weather–for the second time that day! What on earth was I thinking?! I’ve always hated driving. It makes me nervous to be piloting a hurtling box of doom and destruction. It creeps me right the hell out. But, lately I’ve been volunteering to do pretty much all the carpool driving. Am I on crack? Maybe. Mostly, though, I think it’s a matter of having developed an obsessive-compulsive, control-freakish need to be in charge of the car. I find that I really, really, really do not want to be a passenger. Driving isn’t my favorite thing to do, but it beats not driving.

Crankypantsing, News & Politics

Saturday, Chapters 1-6

Chapter 1, In Which People are Nicer in the Mornings

As I was leaving Bigfoot this morning, after having bought my morning cup o’ drugs, I held the door open for a young guy on crutches. He thanked me, and commented that people were much nicer in the mornings than later in the day. I replied that it was probably because, in the morning, people aren’t awake yet. I thought about it some more as I was driving to work, and it may be true. It also may be that, early in the morning, there have been fewer chances for someone else to ruin our day. As the day progresses, there are more and more things for us to get cranky about.

And, then, as I was driving down 17th street, pondering the life cycle of crankiness, some jerk ran across the road in front of me. I had to slam on my breaks, to keep from hitting him. Hello?! It’s pitch dark outside, Mr. Pedestrian, and you’re wearing black from head to toe. Whyever on earth did you think it would be a good idea to dash out in front of me, when the likelihood of me seeing you was disturbingly close to zero? Asstrumpet!

And that, my dear reader, is how people become cranky.

Chapter 2, In Which I Address Praising Beauty

Awhile back, I was in a discussion with someone who could not understand why I thought praising people for being beautiful was a Very Bad Thing. Sure, everyone likes to be told that they look good, and I think it’s perfectly fine to tell someone, “That’s a great outfit,” or, “I love your hair.” It’s even okay to acknowledge that someone is attractive. However, I think there’s a fine line between that and praising someone for being pretty. Praise should be reserved for things one accomplishes, and attractiveness is not–or, at least, should not be–something to be achieved. Being pretty does not make one morally superior, nor should it be a goal to strive toward. Rewarding it with praise only reinforces the harmful message that people who are attractive are somehow better than others, and that those who feel they are not attractive should go out and do something about it. And we wonder why people abuse food and plastic surgery?

Chapter 3, In Which I Win at Gas Tank Bingo

I stopped for gas on Friday morning. I almost always go to Bigfoot, which usually charges a couple of cents more than the other places in town. However, it’s on the correct side of the road and they carry my favorite fountain drink, so I think it’s worth paying a little bit more. Every once in awhile, though, their fuel prices are actually lower than Casey’s or Speedway. This was one of those occasions. And, it wasn’t just a penny or two, either–it was 12ยข cheaper! This morning, when I drove by, Speedway had gone up to $2.19 and Bigfoot was $2.09. Still cheaper, but not as cheap as yesterday’s $1.96. I win!

Chapter 4, In which Wingnuts Advocate Physical Violence Against Liberals

Bill O’Reilly had Ann Coulter as a guest on his ridiculous talk show. They discussed the eeevilness of Lefty-Pinkos, and why they’re big-mouthed Nazis who should be beaten with baseball bats. WTF?!

O’REILLY: All right. Be careful, Ann. They’re bad people.
COULTER: Thank you.
O’REILLY: They are bad people.
COULTER: They are bad people
O’REILLY: And that’s not an ideological statement. They are bad human beings, doing what they’re doing.

Apparently, liberals are bad, bad, very bad, people who do bad, bad, very bad things. Who knew?! I had no idea that there was something inherently wrong with liberals.

COULTER: I think a baseball bat is the most effective way these days.

As everyone knows, bad, bad, very bad people who do bad, bad, very bad things need to be stopped. At any cost, apparently. Beating the crap out of those who dare to disagree seems to be an acceptable solution. Why wast time talking, when you can resort to physical violence?

COULTER: No, of course not. They’re Nazi block watchers. This is what they’re good at.
O’REILLY: They’re Nazi what?
COULTER: Block watchers, you know. They tattle on their parents, turn them in to the Nazis. They’re little Nazi block watchers.
O’REILLY: See, this is why they don’t want you on CNN there. You’re calling them Nazis. They don’t —

In this staggering bit of irony, Coulter claims that liberals who voice dissent are Nazis (and, don’t forget, that they should be beaten with baseball bats). Funny that, as I seem to recall that it’s fascists, like the Nazis, who commonly resort to physical violence against dissenters.

O’REILLY: Yeah, but on a policy basis, what they’re trying to do on these far-left smear sites is intimidate people with whom they disagree, and then choke off their ability to get their message out. I mean, freedom of speech means nothing to these people. They really want to just bludgeon anybody with whom they disagree, or am I wrong?

Liberals are on a mission to curtail–sorry, bludgeon–free speech? I’m sorry, but how, exactly, has O’Reilly–or any other wingnut mouthpiece, for that matter–been stifled by Lefty-Pinkos? Where does he get this crap?

O’REILLY: OK, but to answer your question, CNN is perceived to be a left-wing outlet, and they don’t like your voice on the left-wing outlet. But, you know, aren’t liberals or far-left people supposed to be champions of freedom of speech? Isn’t that what the ACLU [American Civil Liberties Union] is all about?

My ass! Or O’Reilly’s complete and utter misunderstanding of the concept of censorship. What O’Reilly fails to understand is that a corporation, like CNN, is incapable of censorship. CNN cannot stop O’Reilly or Coulter or anyone else from spewing their bullshit. All CNN can do is refuse to let them do it on their network. If the government or some other institution tried to silence O’Reilly or Coulter, that’d be another matter. That would be censorship. No one is trying to stifle them, though. They’re just being told to peddle their hatemongering elsewhere, which is perfectly reasonable.

I mean, seriously, the fact that O’Reilly and Coulter are on TV, saying what they’re saying, is proof positive that there is no liberal plot to silence wingnut dissent.

Chapter 5, In Which I Complain About Daylight Savings Time

For the last umpty years, Indiana–which is split between two time zones–has eschewed Daylight Saving Time. Most of the state is in the eastern time zone. Included are the counties near Cincinnati OH and Louisville KY, which in the past illegally and unofficially observe DST, in order to keep in synch with the large cities nearby. The extreme northwest and southwest portions of the state are in the central time zone, and legally and officially follow DST. This is all very confusing, but it could be worse. In 1961, the state was split down the middle. In 1967, that bit of legislative stupidity was rectified, moving most of the state to the eastern standard time zone.

Last spring, our governor, Mitch Daniels, pushed for a vote on DST, and it passed. April 2006 will see the reinstatement of DST in Indiana. That’s all well and good (no, not really), but it now appears that up to 17 counties could end up in the central time zone, with the rest of the state observing eastern time. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and, with the possible exception of the counties neighboring the Chicago area, it seems to me that it makes sense to draw it at the state border.

Chapter 6, In Which I Consider Face Transplants

I’m sure that by now, y’all have heard about the French woman who had a face transplant. She’s now awake, and able to talk and eat. I don’t really have any strong opinions on the relative okay-ness of the surgery itself, aside from feeling deep sympathy for the patient. What I do wonder about, though, is the contingency plan, should her body reject the donor tissue. Because, you know, it does happen. The woman is scheduled to have a bone marrow transplant, using the face donor’s marrow, in the hopes that it will reduce the risk of rejection. But, that’s no guarantee, and as far as I can tell, she’ll still have to be on anti-rejection drugs–which are carcinogenic–for the rest of her life.

Crankypantsing, Ladybusiness, News & Politics, Pets, Photography

Friday Round-up

Harriet has long contended that squirrels are eeevil, that they should be exterminated, and that she’d ought to be the one doing the exterminating. Now, we have proof that her concerns were well founded.

Squirrels have bitten to death a stray dog which was barking at them in a Russian park, local media report.

Passers-by were too late to stop the attack by the black squirrels in a village in the far east, which reportedly lasted about a minute.

They are said to have scampered off at the sight of humans, some carrying pieces of flesh.

A pine cone shortage may have led the squirrels to seek other food sources, although scientists are sceptical.

Via Feministe: A play in one act, in which a professor entered his office, to find that two students had broken in and were having sex. Now, the story is plenty damned funny on its own, especially this bit, wherein the trespassing male tells the prof to go away and threatens to report him for sexual harassment.

HALF-NAKED MALE: GO THE FUCK AWAY! THIS IS PRIVATE! WE’RE BUSY!
ME: (holding the door half-open) I’m coming in.
HALF-NAKED MALE: STOP HARASSING US YOU PERVERT OR I’LL REPORT YOU!
ME: (still holding door) You’ll report me for your having sex in my office?
HALF-NAKED MALE: GO THE FUCK AWAY!
ME: (still holding door) That’s it. Put your clothes back on. You can’t have sex in my office.

The comments, too, are worth reading. However, I found myself thinking the entire event would have been even more amusing if the prof had quietly entered the office, sat down, and gone about his regular work, ignoring the burgling shaggers.

Via The Smirking Chimp, a rant about Bill O’Reilly and the “war on [White] Christmas”. Because, after all, it is the season. It includes the following gem, on Christmas balls Holiday ornaments:

Speaking of buying, I have a problem with your online shop there, Bill. Yeah, yeah — I hate to interrupt a good misguided rant, but I’m disappointed in you guys at Fox News and the O’Reilly Factor. Being as I’m holding out hope that Christmas won’t be stolen by the liberal Whos of Evil-doer-Whoville (you can use that one, too), I went to the online Fox News Shop to buy some of your balls. But what’s this? I couldn’t find a single Christmas ball in the store! They’d been replaced by these bizarre spheres called “Holiday Ornaments.” The description under the The O’Reilly Factor ornaments claim they’re designed to adorn something called a “holiday tree.” What is this so-called holiday tree? I know what is a Christmas tree, but this holiday tree thing has me stymied. Do I need to buy a second tree? What’s the deal?

Ah, I do so love the smell of hot, buttered irony in the morning.

I’ve mentioned that I watch Survivor, haven’t I? Last night’s episode was lovely, because Judd was finally voted off (hallelujah!). Even lovelier was his reaction. After a speech, in which he claimed that no one was safe, that anyone could be voted off at any time, and that there should be no whineypantsing about it, because it’s a game, stupid, Judd turned around and cursed his tribemates for having the nerve to give him a boot to the head. What an ass!

Speaking of people who need a boot to the head, Oprah gets on my very last nerve. When she’s not busy leading her cult members in I Love Oprah fests, she’s telling women that they should submit themselves to the patriarchy. Most recently, this patriarchifilia has taken the form of touting a new and apparently mediocre form of plastic surgery, called a “thread lift.” Small barbed, plastic threads are inserted under the skin. The barbs catch and hold the tissue, so that it can be pulled tight. Apparently, one can have this relatively inexpensive and speedy procedure done during one’s lunch hour. Because, you know, women ought to have bits of plastic stitched into their faces, so that they can look more babe-uh-licious. Or something. No matter that the procedure can potentially do more harm than good. I dunno about y’all, but I don’t think pain and deformation sound very sexy.

And, don’t even get me started on her magazine. Talk about a heaping helping of harmful messages.

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And now for the obligatory Friday dogblogging, starring everyone’s favorite Boxer, Miss Harriet Brown. This was taken last Saturday, in my mom’s kitchen. Harriet is such a delicate flower that she insists she can’t lie on the bare, hard floor. She’d rather have a nice, fluffy dog bed, but a rag rug will suffice in a pinch. It’s not like there wasn’t a comfy couch for her to sleep on, either. There was, and it was even heaped with pillows and blankets and all manner of soft, cushy things amongst which dainty Boxer dogs might wish to lie. But, no. We were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking, so Harriet had to be in the kitchen with us. To supervise, dontchaknow. That’s onna count of the fact that humans cannot be trusted on their own. This is apparently a sacrament that every Boxer dog holds dear.

And now, a rumpus of random ramblings:

  • Whispering–I can’t stand it. All that pst pst psting drives me batshit crazy.
  • Obsessive throat clearing–I can’t stand that, either. It’s one thing to periodically clear your throat, or to do so more frequently when you’re sick, but when you make disgusting horky noises every two minutes, that’s socially unacceptable.
  • Did you realize that you can rearrange the order of tabs in Firefox, by grabbing and moving them? “The more you know…”
  • Overheard at work: “How long have we had MS Office?” Um, how long have you worked here?
  • I hate it when people ask for information, then don’t pay attention to the answer! Surely there’s a special place in Hell for such time wasters?
  • I spilled something on my shirt this morning, and didn’t notice it until I got to work, so I turned it around so the stain wouldn’t bother me.
  • While watching teevee last night, and petting the dog, I noticed that she’s getting white patches of hair inside her ears. Her muzzle started to go grey years ago, which is common in Boxers, but damn, 6.5 is too young to be going grey.
  • I have to work on Saturday. Waaah!
Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Instant Review: Harriet Brown Goes a-Visiting

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Harriet likes to sit on the corner of the deck and look out over the neighboring fields. She’ll spend hours like that, sitting and watching. I think she may be channeling her namesake, Greta Garbo (Garbo used the name Harriet Brown as a pseudonym). Like Garbo, Harriet often wishes to be left alone.

Harriet had an exciting weekend. We went to visit my family, who live a couple of hours north of me. Harriet is a wonderful travelling companion, so I enjoy taking her places with me. She’s always eager to get into her car harness and settles down quickly in the car. While we’re in stop-and-go traffic, she stands up and presses her nose to the window, so that she can watch what’s going on. Once we’re on the highway, though, she curls up and goes to sleep. I mention this, because I think it’s interesting that the only thing I specifically wanted when I got her was a dog who enjoyed car rides. It’s funny how those sorts of things work out. Her previous owners never took her anywhere in the car, but as long as I’ve had her, she’s been a fabulous travelling companion.

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Gabe playing with Harriet’s ears

She had a great time at my mom’s house. She always enjoys going there, and is nearly as relaxed there as she is at home. She even managed to do some kidney beaning and sassy woo-wooing, which she never does in front of anyone but me. She got to play with my brother’s kids, and got all sorts of attention from my brothers. She also got to eat all sorts of stuff she wouldn’t normally get to eat, and was entertaining in the process–there’s nothing quite like a kitchen full of people feeding green beans to a dog, who thinks they’re some sort of canine crack. I guess they’d never seen a dog eat green beans before. Harriet loves them, though.

This was the first time I’d taken the new car on a road trip. I was well pleased with it! As we reached Indy, the wind picked up, which was, um, exciting. It handled pretty well, though. Even though it’s much bigger and taller than my last car, it’s also much heavier, so it sticks to the road better. There were times in the Festiva when I’d crest a hill, and a strong gust of wind would nearly lift me off the ground. Talk about unsettling! That doesn’t happen in the Tracker. It’s just too damned large and heavy to go kiting. I did get pushed around quite a bit by the gusting wind, but it wasn’t all that bad.

Gas mileage was good, too. Even with all the wind, and running the AC because the windows kept fogging up, I only used a little over half a tank. I forgot to set the tripometer, but I’m guestimating that I used about 8 gallons over 250 miles, which would be around 31mpg–not bad at all for an SUV. Have I mentioned lately that I lovelovelove my Tracker?

Now, for the obligatory randomness:

  • I belong to umpty mail lists, most of them art-related. Artists don’t tend to be the most computer savvy folks on Urth, so I ought to cut them some slack. I draw the line at reading badly formatted messages, though. If there’s HTML coding, or if I have to hunt around to figure out which is new and which is quoted text, or if there is nothing but quoted text, I skip the message. I would think artists, being aesthetically sensitive, would take the time to make their messages look presentable, but apparently that’s not the case.
  • I’ve temporarily put my Netflix subscription on hold. Waaah! I’ll miss having good teevee to watch, but I just can’t justify spending money on it right now.
  • It snowed today. We were supposed to get two inches worth, then sleet and freezing rain, AKA Icy Death from Above[tm]. Welcome to winter in Indiana!
  • Christ died on a spruce tree for your sins. Wait, he didn’t? The use of evergreen trees during the winter holiday season dates back to at least Roman Saturnalia festival. Yeah, the Christians appropriated it, but the tree itself, along with its symbolism, is strictly pagan. So to complain about calling it a “holiday tree” instead of a “Christmas tree” is, I think, a little funny. But then, Mr. Falwell is a funny, funny man. And I don’t mean in the funny-ha-ha sense, either.
  • I don’t know why this should be surprising, but it was. It’s sad but true that all news really is just propaganda. From the administrator who was paid to promote No Child Left Behind, to “astroturf” (the opposite of grass roots) form letters sent to US newspapers, supposedly by local soldiers who supported the war, I think it’s a bad idea to believe anything that comes from or lends support to the current administration.
  • Firefox v.1.5 is out. If you’re using IE, I really recommend downloading Firefox and giving it a whirl. The tabbed browsing (ctrl-T) alone makes it worthwhile, but the lack of pop-ups and the ability to truly control text size (ctrl-mouse wheel up/down) are quite nice, too.
  • The Ebola virus has been traced to bats.

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Sunset Another Day

Clouds were just beginning to creep in from the southwest. They must have thickened overnight, because this morning, it started to spit freezing rain. We were supposed to get two inches of snow, then more freezing rain and sleet, but it was too warm for it to actually stick. It’s still gross and disgusting, though, in a way that only Winter in Indiana can be.