The next new thing in libraries

From Bunny.

This one's for Akaky. It's just his kind of thing.

Air conditioning--the God-given right of all Americans

This post made me think about my California relatives:

Growing up, I have distinct memories of my grandparents. They lived (then and now) in the Central Valley of California....

Now the Central Valley in summer is hot. Damn hot. It's a desert. A desert with irrigation. My grandparents experiences growing up in the Depression made them very frugal, and there was never a guarantee of air conditioning - even when it hit 110....

My grandparents did what any enterprising American would do in order to combat the weather - they walked around their houses in their underwear. All the grandparents of all my friends did the same thing, so I never thought anything of it.

My son-in-law and my daughter live in the Central Valley. He doesn't believe in God, or air conditioning. Their houses are often 110 degrees in the daytime. Their answer to my vociferous complaints (not about God, but the heat) goes like this: "We don't need air conditioning. It's always cool at night." Great! I sweat until I'm as wet as a swamp critter, then at night the sweat dries and I get hypothermia.

He inherited this air-conditioning denial syndrome from his father, who told me, "We don't have air-conditioning. You don't need it." The father lives in Solvang, where the sidewalks melt in summer. If anyone in the world ever needed AC, it is the inhabitants of Solvang.

So the younger couple are building a house, an expensive one, on a very expensive piece of land. The driveway alone will cost more than my entire net worth. No air conditioning. Why? "We won't need it."

How could my daughter stray so far from her parents' teaching? Where, or where, did we go wrong?

More faces

 
 
 
  

Faces

 
 
 
  

Reality check

From Big pharoah.

Ask for Betty...

She's the person who runs the New Castle County Tax Office all by herself.

The background: In order to get a property tax exemption, you need to submit a form, along with a copy of your last year's IRS forms. Then there is a school tax exemption, for which you submit another form, along with--wait for it--a copy of your last year's IRS forms. Why two forms, and two IRS copies, I don't know. You'd better talk to Betty.

I duly sent both these things to the same place. Weeks later, I get one of the forms back because I hadn't signed it. I put it somewhere safe. It is now in a secure location, the same one which contains a CD of all our family photos and a pair of gold earrings. Some day when my heirs and assigns are cleaning out my possessions ("Why did the old bat keep all this crap?") they will find all these things.

So I call the New Castle County tax office. After three employees had kicked the can down the road ("We don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no tax forms, Ms Scarlett", I was told to call back next Tuesday and ask for Betty. Of course I forgot.

A couple of weeks later, someone from the tax office called and left a cryptic message on my voice mail.

I called back, and got someone who was very pleasant, but said I would have to call back and talk to Betty. She gave me a direct phone number.

Later, I called Betty's direct line. But Alice answered. I asked for Betty; she was not in today. Alice and I had a nice discussion which ultimately did not lead anywhere productive. Alice said she would look into the matter and call me back. If I did not hear from her, I should call on Monday and ask for Betty.

I have a mental picture of Betty. She's a woman over a certain age--no-one young is called Betty. She's been with the county for over 25 years and wears her reading glasses on a chain around her neck. While all the young whippersnappers around her are playing games on their computers or talking about their hot dates on Saturday night, Betty does the work. Her word goes around the tax office.

Betty knows where everything is. And everyone. She knows when the director is off playing golf instead of on the job. When the director wants anything, she finds it. She tells him what to do. He does it. She knows which employees are slackers, and which are workers.

Her desk is always clean, and she has a potted plant on it, which she waters every Tuesday. She polishes her desk every couple of weeks, and uses Goo-gone on her computer keyboard, which is spotless.

What will happen to New Castle County tax business when Betty retires? Is there a slightly younger Betty, perhaps a Patty or Florence, to run the county's affairs? Or is it all over when Betty goes?

The Plame-Wilson lawsuit

I agree with Andrew's dad on this one:

[A]ll I can say is Thank You. I now know what it must be like for a crack addict to find a large bag of crack. I now know what it must be like for the Seattle City Council members to hear there is extra cash they can use for social welfare programs that will do nothing. I now know what it would feel like to go to the driving range and hear over the loudspeaker that buckets of balls are free all day.

...

If I am a lawyer for the defense, I would immediately start rehearsing the following line, "Mr. Wilson, before I ask the next question, let me remind you that you are under oath".

The discovery process should be quite interesting.

Everything you ever wanted to know about cul de sacs

and then some.

Thanks to Norm.

Book titles that should be retired

Hint: don't call your book Gay Lord Robert.

In memoriam

for a fallen hero.

Why Delaware?

People ask me (well, someone asked me), "Why did you move to Delaware if you're always talking about New Jersey?" I'm glad you asked that. My answer:

1. I know where Delaware is.

2. It's not that far from New Jersey. I can go back and visit my pals, and shop. There is no sales tax in Delaware, but there's nothing to shop for, either. It's nice if you want tires or a computer or something.

3. Property taxes are ridiculously low. For someone from New Jersey. I save enough on my property tax to go to Europe every year.

4. Good central location. I have relatives in Maryland, Virginia, and New Jersey.

5. Wilmington is near Philadelphia. I feel the need for a big city once in a while.

6. Trucks. Drive through New Jersey and you'll see what I mean. They should call it the Truck State. Wherever you go, there is a tractor trailer right next to you, ready and willing to cut you off.

7. Delaware is pretty.

8. Nice cultural facilities, particularly the art museum.

9. Nice people. In the gym I belonged to in NJ, there were regular acrimonious arguments about pieces of equipment. The gym is much more mannerly here.

Okay, I'll make a confession. Delaware doesn't seem like home to me yet. For one thing, I can't find my way around my house in the dark. I don't know anybody.

But the natives are friendly. One of the neighbors cleaned the snow off our driveway voluntarily. People say hello. Clerks in stores are pleasant and friendly. They speak English. Public officials are helpful and polite. People in the libraries are unbelievably nice.

Now the complaints.

1. The way people drive. I have never seen anyone turn his/her head when backing up. They also shoot out of intersections right in front of you. And I have been tailgated more since I lived here than I ever was in my life. If they drove like that in New Jersey they would either be killed by a tractor trailer or shot by an irate motorist.

2. People walk around barefooted. What is this, Tobacco Road? Wear shoes!

2a. The number of people who wear shorts who shouldn't is phenomenal. People, get a grip!

3. Everything is not open 24 hours a day. Not that I want to go to the drugstore at 3 a.m. on Christmas Eve, but I like to have the option. I don't know why this matters, but it does. I admit it's stupid.

4. Baked ziti, lack of.

The Carnival of Comedy is up!

And by the way, I am hosting it next week and no-one has sent me any witty clever stuff to post. Or any stuff.

Hey, help me out here!*

* E-mail any sidesplittingly funny stuff to bentheo@verizon.net.

If you don't hire me...

I'll get mad.

Just another day in Delaware

Found: Dead mom and 100 dead cats.

Stuff

Champion swapper.

virtual hunting banned.

There's a new saint.

Bloggers weigh in on deplorable situation

from sandmonkey.

India mulls over handling of terrorist threat

The authorities don't want to appear intolerant.

Critics of the ruling Congress Party say it is too scared of alienating Muslims to act effectively against Islamist groups.

They don't want to make them mad. They might set off some bombs or something. You never can tell.

To Bill Keller:

with sympathy for his plight:

I know it’s always difficult to weigh the options: Help the terrorists, don’t help the terrorists. It’s a tough decision, no one can deny that.

If the terrorists reduce New York City to rubble, where will the New York times publish from? Paris? Of course, Pinch, Paunch and company could just afford to up and move. They could bring John Kerry with them; I understand he is fluent in French.

I've been debating how to send the Times a signal. I don't think it's really enough that I have stopped buying the paper on Sunday, thus reducing Delaware's landfill by 5%. As important as I fancy myself, odds are no-one will even notice.

So I am going to request that my fellow bloggers who are like-minded all don't buy the paper on the same day. This will only work if you already buy the paper. But don't start buying it now, if you don't already. (That will mean the terrorists have won.)

I understand that lots of people in Michigan and Louisiana and places like that already don't buy the Sunday New York Times, even though it does have a really challenging crossword puzzle. You people can keep on not buying it. But perhaps if you don't log onto their website that day?

Since no-one reads newspapers in the summer, I am going to suggest September 17, 2006, as the day when we all go out and don't buy the New York Times or log onto their fershloggener website.

Anyone agree?

Varifrank has lots to say...

but I couldn't resist this tidbit:

I watched Charlie Rose this weekend, he had an interview with Robert Kennedy Jr. I want to highly emphasize JUNIOR here, because the man and the crowd he travels in have made this weird sort of “cargo cult” out of his sainted father and his likeness, even to the point that older guys like Charlie Rose love to say “Robert Kennedy” and then conveniently forget to say “…junior…” as if it would result in the old man himself reanimating on the spot.

Robert Kennedy JUNIOR is like Frank Sinatra JUNIOR. I don’t care how drunk you are or what time of the morning it is in Vegas and I dont care whos name is on the Marquee, it’s not “the old man” up on stage and no amount of makeup or bright lights is going to change that fact. He may look like RFK and he may sound like RFK, but unlike his sainted old man, Robert Kennedy JUNIOR is so devoid of charisma he sucks whatever charisma there is out of the air like a Shaper Image Ionic Breeze sucks pollen and dust mites out of the air.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

Ht to mostly Cajun.

Sweet muslim bedtime story

to soothe little jihadis to sleep.

Courtesy of memri.

Beware: eco-friendly cars !

A warning from Dr phat Tony:

Reports are coming in of automobiles all over the country becoming self aware and rejecting the internal combustion engine to live a more eco friendly life....many experts believe that this sudden self-awareness was caused by the ever increasing size and memory of the computer controlling the fuel injection and the guilt of global warming. []

When asked why the cars are rejecting their combustion engine, the expert said, “Cause they’re probably gay and listen to the radio. All you ever here about now is global warming this, and carbon footprint that. I would feel bad to if everyone blamed me for destroying the world. I guess them fancy computers just don’t know what exaggeration is.” []

As reports still come in, it seems that a many of the cars were only able to make it a few feet away from where they left their engine. Unable to convert sunshine, rainbows, and children’s laughter into usable energy the cars have seemed to lose all power and erased whatever “self-awareness” they had gained.

Biden +Indian accent+7-11

Joe Biden, (D, Delaware), is the man with the golden foot in his mouth.

Hysterical commentors of all political persuasions have jumped all over his slightly lame comment, re Indians, 7-11s, and Dunkin Donuts.

If he had his mouth wired shut, Biden might be a candidate for President. But he keeps getting into hot water. Years ago, it was for quoting a speech from a member of the House of Commons without attribution. This puts him miles ahead of most of his fellow senators, who probably don't know what the House of Commons is. (Hint: it's not in Okinawa. Nor is it a house of what used to be called ill repute near Las Vegas, Nevada.)

What brings this on? you ask. I'm glad you asked. In looking at my statistics I notice several google searches about Biden, 7-11s, Dunkin Donuts, etc., which have landed on my site. I have never mentioned Biden, 7-11s, Dunkin Donuts, or even Indian food. The closest I have come to this is mentioning that I now live in Delaware. I haven't even mentioned Delaware that much, preferring to dump on New Jersey, a much larger and easier target.

I mean, Delaware is so small, we only have one Congressman. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. One is plenty. We only have three counties. We don't have any urban cesspools like Newark (NJ)or Camden. No sales tax. Just tolls, which are mostly levied on people who are trying to get the hell out of Delaware and go somewhere else, like New Jersey.

So now I have mentioned Biden, et al., feel free to google these topics and come straight to my site.

An Epiphany

I. Don't. Need. Any more clothes.

Looking through my closet, I came to this conclusion. I feel sad. There are no new worlds to conquer.

And this is after paring down my wardrobe before moving. And after moving.

I used to get up every morning and dress nicely. Sometimes choosing my wardrobe was the highlight of my day. But since I gave up working, I generally wear one of my four pairs of jeans every day. And a t-shirt or sweater. Undergarments and sunscreen complete my look.

I used to wear suits, but I have no more need for them now than I do for a bustle.

I am surprised anyone ever buys clothes, considering the stuff for sale in the stores. The evidence on the street, and even in more sophisticated venues bears this out. People wear jeans, unless they wear something even more plebian, like hideous shorts and t-shirts with witty (!!!) sayings.

This is hard to believe, but years ago, when a couple went out, even to play cards with another couple at the home of couple B, the man of couple A wore a jacket and tie and the woman pantyhose. I can hardly believe it myself.

Nowadays, the people on the street, at the mall, or in restaurants--even fancy ones--look like inhabitants of some backward Soviet client state--say Romania-- circa Jimmy Carter. Drab. Everyone looks depressed. Who wouldn't be, looking like that?

I like libraries like this

Of course, they tore it down.

From the world of music:

Good news.

The Sea of Japan gets what's coming to it

according to our Ace Correspondent, scrappleface.

The wise moonbat's guide to fasting

Those in the know, pass the fast along:

"We have to put our own lives on the line, and I'm willing to do that," said activist Diane Wilson, who pledged to fast until the United States withdraws from Iraq.

Dearborn said 2,700 other activists nationwide, including actors Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn, would work as a relay team passing the fast daily from one to another.

Hey! I can fast for 24 hours--it's called Yom Kippur--but I didn't know it was aimed at Bush.

A good question

Conservator asks:

If the USA Patriot Act is so pernicious, why is it necessary to spread falsehoods in order to get people to oppose it?

Read the whole thing.

Two plug-ugly peace-lovers

 
Check out the schmata around Michael Berg's neck, similar to the one Yassir Arafat sported. 

Librarian has a bad day

Don't despair! You are not alone.

I loved public libraries from the day I first went to one, when I was five years old. The idea that I could have books without paying for them--wow! I was in love!

Librarianship (stupid word) was not my first choice of career, but when my children started school I looked for a new way of making a buck. Librarianship was a glamour job--indoor work, no heavy lifting. All right, then.

At library school I met the usual dimwits, particularly among the faculty. If it is possible to organize a 36-hour program totally devoid of content, intellectual or otherwise, library school tried hard to make the grade. I did learn a few things, though. Don't ask me what they were.

My whole career was in public libraries--in Florida and New York, but principally in New Jersey. I quickly decided that I needed to be in charge, so became director of a little library, then a larger one, then a medium-sized one. And there I stayed, until I got caught in the political crossfire.

I still can't articulate why I loved it so much. The books were part of it, of course, and the people, both those who worked with me--my team--and the public (with some exceptions). During my tenure, we went from catalog cards to computers, so there was always something to learn, something new to do--I liked that.

Then there was the feeling that what we were doing was worth doing; we were appreciated by our patrons, whether we were teaching them to use e-mail or just providing them with best-sellers.

We need more meetings

Or maybe not.

Verizon: a truly 20th century company...

on the cutting edge of technology.

True story: I am a Verizon customer, currently signed up for the Freedom Package at $59.95. I received a postcard from Verizon, promising me the same services for $39.95. All I had to do was call a tollfree number!

I tried to call about five times. It was always busy. On the sixth round, I got a recorded message. "Due to the volume of calls, this number is busy. Please hang up and call again." This from a telecom company! Haven't they ever heard of voice mail?

My seventh try landed a real human being. After I gave her my name and number, she told me I would have to call my local Verizon business office to sign up.

Dirty work at the library

A fearless director comes to the rescue!

Palestinians have biological weapons?

According to Mutha faq'r, a spokesperson for the PA:

Exact details on the type of agent involved were sketchy, but during questioning by media the spokesman let slip that it involved a lot of “real snotty Kleenexes” obtained from a local pre-school where a particularly nasty variety of the sniffles “was going around.”

Said Faq’r,

“Let the Zionist dogs reap the whirlwind of our mighty sword of vengeance. We will never be content to be their servants and slaves. We will strike back with the blood of our martyrs and the nasal mucous of our children. Let the leaders of the Israeli people explain the great swath of devastation we will wreak in the midst, as their people suffer untold congestion, sore throats, and post-nasal drip. We will take great joy in their suffering and their raw, red noses.”

Forecasters Give Jehovah 7 to 1 Odds Over Allah In Gaza Standoff

The Therapist analyzes the new Gaza games:

"Allah's team comes in relatively weak this time around," said one analyst. "Lack of conditioning, not to mention the much ballyhooed self-implosion techniques utilized by the martyrs, while pyrotechnically fascinating, ultimately weaken the team effort."

Jehovah on the other hand, stands to carry the day, ruling out any unforeseen dust storms that might engulf the Israeli army--many times attributed to Allah. Allah's goal protection skills have been in question in recent months with the deadly Iranian and Indonesian earthquakes plaguing the regions--both easily stoppable by the standards assigned to regional deities.

You go, Jehovah!

Food fancies

Mr Charm has some hang-ups about food. I could work with that. But he changes his mind often. He likes certain foods or restaurants for a time, then dislikes them. Sometimes he likes something and stops liking it and goes back to liking it.

Scenario:
Act I. Daughter serves him black bean soup.
MrC: I love black bean soup. (scarfs it down).
Act II
I make black bean soup. He comes to the table.
MrC: What's this?
Me: black bean soup.
MrC: I don't like black bean soup.
Act III: (at Panera's restaurant)
Me: I don't think I want the black bean soup--it's too filling.
MrC: I'm ordering black bean soup.
Me: ?????!!!!!
MrC: what are you looking at me like that for? I've always liked black bean soup.

We had a favorite Chinese restaurant. I suggested going there today, because I had to get something at a nearby store. He agreed. Not enthusiastically.

We got to the restaurant.
MrC: I don't know what to order.
Me: Order the shrimp with lobster sauce. You always like that.
MrC: I do not like it!

So he orders something else he does not like. He doesn't like it this time either. No surprise there. (Toys with food. Ostentatiously)

MrC: Let's not go there again.
Me: _________(Fill in blank with your favorite curse, muttered not quite under my breath.)
MrC: What did you say?
Me: Nothing.

Better than hunger strikes

Potfrey has a real helpful suggestion for an effective protest against the war in Iraq.

Used bookstores, old books, and the Internet

Library girl hearts used bookstores.

I love all libraries and I’ll give any new book store at least one chance. Used bookshops, however, are another matter entirely.

There is a definite art to putting together a second-hand establishment, and the great ones have a mixture of dependability in terms of quality, high turnover, and a degree of chaos. The true joy behind paying one a visit is browsing and serendipitously stumbling upon a gem. It’s also thrilling to have a title in mind and then find exactly what you’re looking for on the shelf. Such a pleasure is taken for granted in chains. There is also the specific sound of creaking floors in quiet rooms which I love, and a certain ubiquitous used-but-not-unpleasant smell that most seem to possess.

I order most used books over the Internet these days, but something is missing. The serendipity, for one thing. I have discovered some of my favorite books by taking a chance on a volume by an unknown (to me) author. I've also found old chestnuts on the shelves which gave me a thrill of recognition: Samuel Smiles' Self Help is one that I remember. Of course, you do get some of that in a library. But in a conscientiously run library, someone has patiently gone through the shelves and discarded all the books no-one reads. Unfortunately, those are the books I like.

The Wilmington Institute appears to have kept a lot of old books nobody reads. I try to take the poor things for an outing from time to time so that circulation records will show that someone has read them.

I liked the Hackensack (NJ) Library for the same reason. Every time I found a book with an old cover, perhaps a library binding, I took it home to read. I tried to read some dreadful books, it's true, but I also discovered some beauties. When the library converted to an automated system, these books ended up in the dumper.
I used to consult Jacques Barzun's wonderful book a Catalog of Crime, still available at Amazon. I try the "reduced for final sale" area of the local Barnes & Noble, and have found a few--very few--goodies that way.

Abebooks is a good source of older books, if you know what you want. but the infuriating thing is tht you can't discover something new that way. You have to know wht you are looking for.

Bookstores and libraries are above all venues--places to go, each with its own distinct personality. You can't get that from a database.

It's called being delusional

An Austalian newspaper celebrates vision.

From the Age:

Treasurer Peter Costello is no stranger to the future....

[T]he Treasurer has shown remarkable resilience and, with that, something more unusual: a willingness to present a vision of how he sees the nation. There is, of course, a benefit for Mr Costello in putting what satirist Jonathan Swift, in a un-satirical moment, alluded to when he said that vision was "the art of seeing what is invisible to others". It bespeaks leadership. Pronouncing a vision is an effective way for a man waiting in the wings to step onto the stage while the protagonist is still very much in the script and on the stage as well.

Type for food has tried unsuccessfully to find this quote in Swift's writings. It is possible that he couldn't find it because Swift never said it. Fake quotes and fake attributions are the order of the day.

In the US, fake quotes are usually attributed to either Benjamin Franklin or de Tocqueville, like Bill Clinton's cheery Hallmark quote, "America is great, because America is good." I've never seen anything like this attributed to Swift, that old misanthopist. Maybe he did slip that remark to Stella or Vanessa when he had had a bit too much Irish whiskey, but I doubt it.

"The art of seeing what is invisible to others." You mean like the Palestians' longing for peace? Or the "good intentions" of the Iranians? Or the tooth fairy? Take your pick. They're all hooey.

Tactful ways to get rid of a friend

How about this:

FRIEND, you are like mayonnaise. I am fond of you in small amounts ... and when accompanying other friends (much the way mayonnaise accompanies tunafish, bread, lettuce, and tomato). But the thought of you in massive quantities makes me so nauseous I have to chew gum. Also, black people don't like you.

The smirk: a historical approach

Did you know this?

Librarian talks back to ALA

PBI librarian reacts to library association's anti-American agenda:

Just because all the moonbats around you are bobbing their heads up and down like one of those stupid plastic dogs in the back of a car window doesn't mean your ideas have merit - it just means that you've managed to find other loons to surround yourself with. Right now, they're in the driver's seat...and they're driving the profession of librarianship right into the shitter. When the taxpayers finally figure out what's going on in the public libraries, the current funding problems will look like the land o' plenty compared to what they'll wind up doing to us.

Here's the MOTD for the ALA leadership:

1) the SRRT and other such groups should not be seen as the voice of librarians. The SRRT should be disbanded immediately as incompatible with the mission of the ALA.

2) Politics have NO place in the library. Yes, this means YOU.

3) Concern yourself with library issues. NOT everything is a library issue. Matter of fact, MOST things are not library issues.

4) Concentrate on how librarians can add value to information services. If the state of public libraries is anything to go by, all the MLSs will eventually be replaced with paraprofessionals. This is because YOU have allowed reference to degenerate into being a phone operator, social worker, nose wiper and floor mopper. The demise of librarianship will come about quickly once those holding the purse strings realize they are paying people with graduate degrees to look up phone numbers and point homeless people to the bathroom if we don't have anything else to offer.

5) Have I mentioned GET OUT OF POLITICS?

I've met some of these ALA bigwigs. Don't be confused by the bleeding heart rhetoric. They are ambitious and arrogant, and would speedily grind you up in one of Saddam's shredders if you get in their way.

The ALA should be disbanded. They don't speak for all of us. But librarians do have a mission--to defeat the armies of ignorance and stupidity.

Conservative = bad, , wrong, mean

From Atlanta rofters:

On the other hand, liberal = good.

And pacifist = saint.

Carnival of Comedy #29 is up

Auto insurance, illegal aliens, and New Jersey

A kid in my family sent a $50 check to pay a parking ticket. Turns out the parking ticket was for $53, so they sent him a letter threatening to suspend his license. Could he pay the $3 online? Oh, no. The ticket had to be paid personally and a copy of the receipt forwarded to the motor vehicle bureau, plus ten dollars "court costs."

New Jersey considers all of its residents who have driver's licenses as potential criminals who haven't been caught yet. If you don't have your license, registration, or insurance card you have to make a court appearance, even if your wallet was stolen and you are on your way to the Motor Vehicle office to get another license.

And car insurance: It's compulsory and expensive. If you have anything short of a major accident you'd be stupid report it to the insurance company. They will raise your premiums even higher. It's an extortion racket sanctioned by the State. When the Demos are in office, the price of auto insurance goes up. The Republicans, ditto. It's an equal opportunity mugging.

What has this to do with illegal aliens? Being an illegal alien is a real crime, getting a parking ticket is a trumped up "crime." Not having auto insurance is a trumped-up crime too, one that punishes the poor.

Fly in Residence testifies before Congress

The Fly in Residence at the Charm household recently testified before the Senate Moonbattery Committee, chaired by Lincoln Chaffee (R-Rhode Island), co-chaired by Barbara Boxer (D-California). The Committee was formed to explore the possibility of impeaching President Bush, who as you know stole the 2004 election.

The fly, whose name must be kept secret unless the New York Times has a slow news day, made a statement, which follows:

I can no longer keep silent when the welfare of the nation is being endangered. The Fly in Residence Program must have its budget restored. This program is vital to children and working families, not to say minorities.

The FIR building, in Alexandria, VA, needs $380,210.17 for vital repairs immediately if the health of the 300 dedicated employees who work there is not to be endangered, not to mention the flies in the field.

The program is badly underfunded. I, myself, have been working 18 hours a day at the Charm household, but am totally unable to provide service to both Charm individuals at the same time. If I pester one of them, the other is enabled to finish his/her Cheerios in peace. One fly can do only so much. I have requested an assistant to serve Mrs. C, while I dodge Mr C's flyswatter. This will allow both of these citizens to have his/her dedicated fly. We can do no less for the citizens of this great country.

But there are graver issues. The lack of suitably trained bi-lingual flies is setting back recovery efforts in New Orleans and along the Gulf Coast. We must do more to ensure the safety of these people, many of whom are poor, minorities, and single mothers--or all three at once.

More flies are desperately needed at the Mexican border to serve the undocumented-American community desperate to gain entry to our country and take low-paying jobs that Americans won't take. Here too, bi-lingual flies are not a luxury but a necessity.

The funds which were diverted from our program are now being channeled to Halliburton by the office of Dick Cheney.

After this fervent testimony, not an eye was dry in the Senate chamber.

Carnival of the Insanities is up

Recruitment

Detailed recruiter explains the process.

Recruiting...is a challenge, and it’s a challenge for which I didn’t volunteer (”detailed” is a nice way of saying “dragged kicking and screaming”). But it’s a fight that is almost as important as the ones being fought overseas. When my recruiting class graduated we were graced to have CSM Michelle Jones, the Command Sergeant Major of the United States Reserve, as our keynote speaker. During her address she told us to view our time in recruiting as our deployment. That without NCOs going out and finding the next Soldiers, team leaders, squad leaders, even sergeants major any progress made in the War on Terror would be for nought. I do believe in what I do as a recruiter. I hope that some day, 20 years from now, I’ll be reading the Army Reserve magazine and recognize some 1SG or SGM as someone I enlisted. Assuming I can still remember by own name 20 years from now that is.

Untoward incident at soccer game

The British rioter is second to none. But one observer did have a slight problem:

Sadly, my enjoyment of the fighting was marred once again by the minority of idiots who insist on playing football. And droning on and on about it.

The English gentleman was once a model to be emulated by all the world. Now it's the English hooligan.

New Jersey and me--perfect together!

You Are 73% New Jersey!

You are definitely Jersey. Well done, my friend. You are most likely from this great state, and you fit right in. Odds are, you love being Jersey!

How New Jersey Are You?

The sky is falling--part deux

From cynical nation , a bit of satire:

If anti-terror officials are allowed to access banking records now, then how long before the IRS has access to them as well?

Of course this was said cynically. But some of the commentors took it seriously. Read the whole thing, comments and all. You couldn't make this stuff up!

I once had a judgment against me. It was trivial matter of $200 or so, but I forgot all about the court date, so a judgment was entered. Fair enough. Act like a doofus, pay like a doofus.

What I didn't realize was that the court could go into any bank accounts I had in the county and take the money. Which they did.

So it's not only the IRS that can access your banking information. Anyone can. Apply for a car loan. Your credit report will include all your banking information. And everywhere you've ever lived. Including a place I never lived, but somehow they think I did, in San Francisco.

When I was director of the library, our lawyer, the Master of Red Tape, insisted on background checks on every new employee, even 16-year-old high school kids. Each background check cost $15. I don't know how much info you got for the price. I doubt whether their international phone calls were reported.

Anyway, all this information is out there. If you don't believe me, just google one of your friends.

Oops! I almost forgot--ht to the biggie himself, instapundit.

A timely quote from FDR

Craig Henry shares this fireside chat from Roosevelt, which strikes at the heart of today's NYTimes revelation:

To all newspapers and radio stations -- all those who reach the eyes and ears of the American people -- I say this: You have a most grave responsibility to the nation now and for the duration of this war.

If you feel that your Government is not disclosing enough of the truth, you have every right to say so. But in the absence of all the facts, as revealed by official sources, you have no right in the ethics of patriotism to deal out unconfirmed reports in such a way as to make people believe that they are gospel truth.

Every citizen, in every walk of life, shares this same responsibility. The lives of our soldiers and sailors -- the whole future of this nation -- depend upon the manner in which each and every one of us fulfills his obligation to our country.

I wish Bush had gone to Congress on September 12, 2001, and asked for a declaration of war, officially, on all who want to do us harm. If that had happened, those who reveal our country's secrets could be tried for treason and punished.

Hanging is too good for them.

In which we discuss passwords, usernames, and recycling

all of which are a pain the nether regions.

Staples will not sell me anything unless I sign up and register. My money is no good if they don't know who I am, I guess. Do they think I am a spammer, wasting their prescious bandwidth, instead of a customer seeking printer cartridges?

Unfortunately, I only want printer cartridges once in a while, and I always forget my username and password between orders. They must put a cookie on my site, but I guess it expires between cartridges, which I order infrequently. I don't like to print anything because I don't want to use up my cartridges so I don't feel guilty when I conceal the used ones in the trash, instead of recycling them. I don't like feeling guilty, but I really, really dislike keeping a bunch of trash until I have time to go to the recycling center. The Charm home is not a substation of Delaware Recycles. We like to get rid of stuff we don't want here, so we can buy more stuff we don't need and have a place to keep it until we need to recycle it (or conceal it in the trash).

When we lived in New Jersey, we used to recycle newspapers and other paper stuff. Some agency for reformed drug addicts picked it up and sold it for a pittance. This worked fine until New York City came onstream with their paper recycling, when the bottom dropped out of the paper market, and it became more expensive to recycle it than to dump it. The agency then refused to have their clients pick up the stuff; addicts or not, they were able to do the math.

Did this stop the city from having separate pickups for paper? Nosiree. They had special trucks which picked it up on a different schedule than the other garbage and then dumped it in the very same landfill. This cost the taxpayer extra but it made the politicians feel virtuous, and in New Jersey that is no little matter.

But I digress. Passwords. Usernames. Yes, back to the subject at hand. I wouldn't mind having usernames and passwords if I could use the same one all the time. But different sites have different requirements. Some demand at least 6 characters. some demand a combination of numbers and letters. Some need to know if your belly button is an innie or an outie. The computer is able to remember some of this garbage but not all of it.

What to do, what to do? I actually started to write this stuff down on a piece of paper. But I lost the piece of paper.

Why don't I ever find interesting news like this?

Fascinating!

Many thanks to scribal terror.

If I don't win

I'm going to take my marbles and take to the streets!:

On July 2 Mexico will hold the most closely contested presidential election in its history. That in itself wouldn't be a problem if all the candidates were committed to the democratic process. But in recent weeks two of the three main campaigns have jointly pledged to challenge election results in the streets with massive unrest if their candidates don't win. If that happens, Mexico will be thrown into chaos and Mexicans will be the losers...

(From the Wall Street Journal--subscription required.)

There's a newfangled way to avoid standing in the sun holding a heavy sign--it's called an election. See, you go and vote in a nice air-conditioned place!

The street is for Arabs. That's why they call it the Arab street. We have other ways of choosing our leaders in a democracy.

The death of a troublesome priest

How to speak Canadian

Business as usual

Things are rapidly getting back to normal in New Orleans.

[

E]xperts say that ... homicides are on the rise in the Big Easy at a time when other cities are seeing their murder rates plummet to levels not seen in decades.

The city’s murder rate is still far lower than a decade ago, when New Orleans was the country’s murder capital. But in recent years, the city’s homicide rate has climbed again to nearly 10 times the national average.

“We’re going in the reverse of 46 of the top 50 cities in the United States. Almost everyone is going down, but we’re going up,” said criminologist Peter Scharf. “There is something going on in New Orleans that is not going on elsewhere.”

Many of the killings are related to drugs and gangs — but police say more are simply disputes that get out of hand.

Along with reluctant witnesses, experts say the city has too few police and inexperienced prosecutors. Coming up with more cash has been a chronic problem for money-pinched New Orleans, which typically lurches from budget to budget.

The Whole Foods lobster controversy

From Lee, a complaint:

Now I have to make two trips if I want to buy lobster. I’ll use more gas, which will contribute to global warming, but at least I’ll feel much better about myself. And that’s what being a liberal is all about.”

But what is to be done with the lobsters if we liberate them?

A commenter suggests:

The next step for the Left is to get these recently rescued crustaceans registered to vote in the 2008 Presidential Election. The problem is that the assumed increase in lobster and softshell crab ballots will somehow bolster their base in conservative states. All these lobsters will end up doing is adding to the already saturated liberal vote in places like New York, California and Vermont.

A tasteful way to recycle those yarmulkas you picked up

But only if you are a female.

Thank Serena, not me.

Let New Jersey be New Jersey

I'm just back from the Land of Baked Ziti. I attended a bat mitzvah and the ziti flowed like wine.* The wine, on the other hand, didn't flow much. I'd venture to say that there was more call for Diet Coke than wine, this being a largely Jewish affair.

There was a little problem with the steam table. The host and hostess had determined that the covers would not be raised on the hot food until the Bat Mitzvah girl had lit candles for all the relatives and friends, and one or two for World Peace. But an old gent came up to these tempting covered containers, opened them, and got a plate upon which he placed his food, in contravention to the intentions of the party of the first part, the host. One of the banquet managers hovered over him, trying to get him to go away and wait for his food, but he paid no attention to her. It would have taken an Act of Congress to stop him. So she didn't--just wrung her hands.

The MC spent three hours screaming at the top of his lungs and the disc jockey turned up the amps, to the immense gratification of everyone present, except me. When my ears started bleeding, I inserted earplugs. They helped some.

But it was a nice family occasion. The youngest was about two, the oldest were some of those aunts and uncles who come out of mothballs on occasions like this. They can't hear anyway, so what's loud music and screaming MCs to them? They sit together and talk about their doctors, their medications and their rheumatism. I can foresee joining this group one day soon.

The loud noise did something to my brain, much as repeated hammering with a baseball bat applied to the skull. It made me feel tired. Even dazed.

I stopped for gas in New Jersey, and someone else pumped gas for me. It was heavenly. I don't care if the guy was an illegal alien--he cleaned my windshield too. Gov Corzine wanted to allow--make that compel--New Jerseyans to pump their own, but there was such as outcry he backed off.

Now comes my poem:

I think that I shall never see
A refinery as boring as a tree.


I mean it too. The refineries along the turnpike call to mind Carl Sandberg's "Hog butcher to the world." Not that New Jersey is a hog butcher (neither is Chicago any more), but the coarse vitality of these tanks and smokestacks is interesting and impressive.

Not so the crappy, boring trees planted along the lower parts of the highway, no doubt to "beautify" it. The trees appear to be all of the same species and the same height. They are uninteresting trees, good enough for government work perhaps, but you would never cherish a tree like that on your property. The land is extremely flat too, adding to the sense of tedium. If they hadn't planted the trees, perhaps there would be a glimpse of farmland or even a warehouse to entertain the eye.

Driving through this featureless forest, I kept feeling my eyelids droop. I stopped for coffee so I wouldn't fall asleep and run into an 18-wheeler.

A word about the drivers in New Jersey. They are aggressive, they drive fast, but they are good drivers generally. Delaware drivers would be killed within a week, if they drove like that in good old NJ.

Delaware drivers! I'll get to them later.

*It's illegal for more than 20 people to get together if they don't serve baked ziti. The authorities are very strict about this.

Here I am, naked as a jaybird

Except for a pair of slippers.

Ready for naked blogging?

I shaved my legs, got my hair done, and had a manicure and a pedicure.

Don't forget a towel to sit on, especially if you have a very hard chair.

If you're blogging outdoors, slather on plenty of sunscreen.

Beaten in the prelims for the sexual perversion cup

A bit of a disappointment, actually.

To be knocked out like that, before even reaching the quarter-finals, was a bitter blow. A very bitter blow. The Little-Frigging-In-The-Wold Gleaner had confidently predicted that this year would - once again - be our year.

Conserving our resources the modern way

Stuart Buck analyzes magazine ads.

You can tell a lot about a magazine's audience by the ads that appears in the back. For example, if the ads are all for $1.5 million homes in the Hamptons, you're probably reading the New York Times magazine, where the advertisers expect to reach a significant number of people who have a lot of money and are interested in that sort of conspicuous consumption.

So it was with interest that I looked at the ads in the back of the Sierra Club's magazine, which I just started receiving after joining a month ago. There are six pages in the back that are full of little ads. Some are for a variety of different products -- organic coffee, hammocks, portable water purifiers, etc....



But by far, most of the ads were for tours to exotic locations -- e.g., Antarctica, Peru, New Zealand, the Galapagos, the Alps, Malaysia, Tibet, and many more. I counted no fewer than 31 such ads in the six pages at the back of the magazine. In addition, the Sierra Club itself included a ten-page section listing probably 100+ Club-sponsored trips all around the world -- from backpacking in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to hiking in Nepal to a safari in Tanzania. Both the advertisers and the Sierra Club obviously expect to reach a lot of readers who have a good bit of disposable income, the time to travel around the world for weeks at a time, and the willingness to participate in huge amounts of carbon emissions. (I'm assuming that no one is going to paddle a canoe to New Zealand to go hiking there, nor will they swim to the Galapagos with a bicycle strapped to their backs.)

I am doing my bit for the environment by not taking a planned trip to Sicily. I feel quite smug about it. Although I have always wanted to visit Sicily. I am very fond of Greek ruins, any ruins, as a matter of fact. But I am abstaining at great emotional cost to myself. Nothing trumps my wish to save the environment, except perhaps the need to pay my dentist(s).

Do the feminists care about this?

Does anyone?
A peaceful protest by Iranian women calls forth brutal response:

"We are women, we are human, but we don't have any rights!" protesters chanted.
This is what they wanted:
- Banning polygamy;
- Reversal of men's uncontested right to divorce;
- Equal child custody rights for mothers and fathers;
- Equal rights in marriage (such as a woman's right to choose where she works, to travel freely, etc.);
- Increase in the legal age of children to 18 years of age (currently girls are viewed as adults at 9 years of age and boys at 15 years of age, making them eligible to be tried as adults);
- Equal value placed on women's testimony in court; and
- Elimination of temporary work contracts which disproportionately and negatively impact women....

From the BBC report:
"The viciousness of the police attack caused men who were passing by in the street to protest, our correspondent says. These are our sisters, how can you do this?" passers-by shouted at police. The women then gathered again on the other side of the square, but the police used pepper spray against them and onlookers.
As the police started making arrests members of the public who had nothing to do with the protest repeatedly shouted: "Leave them alone."
One man screamed at the police, saying: "Why do you take money from the government to beat women like this?"
Feminists of Europe, have some shame! These are your sisters being beaten up. They want the same rights as you. Why do you think Iranian women are not worthy of your support??????

Why don't American women get up in arms? Too busy traveling the world with Cindy Sheehan? Why can't I read about this in American newspapers? Don't these people matter?

A follow-up from the same blogger, an Iranian living in London:

One of the women who were taken to Evin prison after the rally in 7 Tir Square, was eighty years old!

The Islamic regime is therefore scared of an 80 year old woman who takes part in a peaceful rally!

My salutations to this 80 year old lioness who wants the new generation of Iranian women to have the rights which she enjoyed in her youth. If only all of the previous generation of Iranians who got us in this mess, had her courage.

Simin Behbahani, Iran’s foremost contemporary national poetess was also amongst the women who were beaten up.

News about libraries

some terrible.
some good.

You non-library people can skip this, if you wish. But it is worthwhile to read it all.

I'm starting a new charitable organization

..and I'm calling it the Patriotic Americans for Peace, Justice, Sustainable Living, Human Rights and Children. With a title like that it can't miss. Won't you join me?

I've noticed that organizations are given credibility in accordance with their title. Call you organization the Arab Anti-Zionist League, and everyone will sneer. Call it Arab Human Rights Organization Chowder and Marching Society, and you will get respectful attention in the press.

You don't have to have a fancy building. You don't even need a phone. You sure don't need a lot of members. The Hammurabi Society, which started all this carry-on about Haditha, consists of two guys. But that's good enough for Time magazine. Hammurabi! It has a ring to it! It must be important!

Words that will insure your organization's success: civil rights, civil liberties, human rights (but not human liberties, don't ask me why). Justice. Peace. Conservation. Environment. Especially Saving the Environment--if you call your group the League for Despoiling the Environment you're off to a bad start. Remember, saving, good. Not saving, not so good. In fact, saving anything makes a nice title: whales, forests, baby seals, wilderness.

And the trump card: children. Even if your mission statement includes cutting children into small pieces and feeding them to alligators, the MSM doesn't care. In fact, they'll never know. You could call it Society for Preservation of Children and Alligators and no-one would bat an eyelash.

Now that you know how it works, how about joining me? We have quite a lot of wine in the basement, and while we drink it we can figure out some excuse for our existence. And you'll get our newsletter absolutely free!

Michael Berg is running for Congress

Somehow, I don't find that reassuring.

[I]f Mr. Berg were representing us, he would have had us sit down and listen to terrorists after they murdered 3000 of us on 9/11 and not give them preconditions for coexistence on Earth. However, the U.S. did listen. We heard what the terrorists had to say. They want us dead. They want us humilitated. They want our civilians to live in fear. It is a reasonable precondition that no one comes onto our soil and attacks our people. They violated it. And it is a reasonable to let the world know we will stand up for ourselves and for the liberty of others. Even Neville Chamberlain realized he'd been duped once Hitler started invading more countries. Appeasement didn't work to stave off World War II and it won't work with people whose goal is our destruction and subjection to their laws. There is no basis for discussion with the unreasonable.

As far as wanting world peace now, well, who doesn't? But pacifism doesn't buy peace. It buys oppression. Does the "rape of Belgium" ring any bells? Neville Chamberlain did Europe no good back in the 1930s and channeling him now won't help us today.

Michael Berg may mean well, but this kind of muddled thinking is not what we need from our leaders.

I don't think Michael Berg means well. I've cut him as much slack as I am inclined to, and then some. While he may forgive Zarqawi (the guy who first humiliated Nick and then killed him in an excruciatingly painful way), he is full of unreasonable and unreasoning hatred of Bush, who had nothing whatever to do with Nick's presence in Iraq.

He's not a pacifist--he just wants the other side to win.

My father at the age of about 28

 

He's 94 now and still going strong.

Happy Father's day, Pop! 

A bump on the highway of life

15 Minute Lunch protests highway warning signs.

I

A new pool of potential recruits to the clergy

The japing ape has a suggestion:

I have long advocated opening up the priesthood to gorillas. I took an aptitude test when I was a young ape and the clergy came second only to the circus. Obviously, you have to be able to perform in public (as most gorillas can), but there’s something else of vital importance: a priest has got to be good at scaring people. The fallen woman in the confessional box won’t truly repent of her sins if her pastor is a wishy-washy character who wouldn’t say ‘boo’ to a goose. Nor would the pious folk who go to Mass every week have any confidence in his ability to protect them against evil spirits. A priest must be the kind of fellow who’ll head-butt the Devil with nothing more than a crucifix between his teeth and a bible in his back pocket. In my estimation, that’s either a crazy-eyed dude who’s into flagellation or a gorilla. The meek may inherit the Earth, but they’ve got no place in the Roman Catholic clergy.

This is not to say that I would actually accept ordination into the Catholic hierarchy. The clothes and the Latin might be attractive, but the avenues for artistic expression are far greater in the Protestant camp. Many of these modern sects have taken variety entertainment to new heights, encouraging their ministers to write their own comic monologues and lead the faithful in festivals of song and dance.

Zarqawi had a mother too, you know

How about a little compassion?

Michael Berg cares.

Improving library service

Yeah, that'll work.

Gosh, when he joined the army

he didn't realize he might be sent to Iraq. He could be killed! Some of those people in Iraq have guns and stuff!

He wants to go home to Mom.

New Fly in Residence appointed in Delaware

A new Fly in Residence has been appointed to serve the Charm family and friends, and has already taken up his position in Wilmington, DE. The previous incumbent resigned in October to spend more time with his family.

There was some doubt as to whether the position would continue to recieve funding, due to Draconian cuts in the federal budget which hit women and children, not to say insects, the hardest. Luckily, however, the Ford Foundation stepped up to the plate, and the program is to be continued for at least one year.

Duties of the position include but are not limited to hovering over family members and guests, chiefly at mealtimes, quickly flying from victim to victim before lighting on the potato salad. Qualifications for the position include agility, persistence, creativity, and the ability to take direction.

The identity of the new appointee is being withheld for security reasons.

Fake boobs and others

Neilochka wants to know why fake boobs can't be a bit more natural:

“When are they ever going to make fake boobs that don’t look like large bocce balls?”

I've only seen one pair that I could swear was fake: in the gym one day I encountered a woman whose boobs floated upward; they looked like helium balloons. They seemed to defy gravity. I watched in fascination to see if they would unmoor themselves from her chest and fly away.

The nice thing about fake boobs is that they are, well, self-supporting. Real boobs, large boobs, unfortunately need to be hoisted up like flags on a flagpole by some heavy-duty industrial bra that looks more like a truss than the cute flimsy things you see in the Victoria's Secret catalog.

Life is tough.

Will there always be an England?

Not all of the Left has... twigged that multiculturalism is rather last century. Someone of whom I had hoped we had heard the last, the former Archbishop of Canterbury Lord Carey, made a predictable intervention in this debate from beyond the grave last weekend. He proclaimed that the coronation of our next monarch must be an "interfaith" event. The ceremony must, he added, have "very significant changes", so that it is "inclusive" of other religions in Britain.

Lord Carey clearly has in mind what Private Eye would term a "Rocky Horror" coronation service. Never mind your archbishops, or even your Christians, your imams, your rabbis, ayatollahs, your assorted holy men and other diverse priests, layers-on-of-hands and speakers-in-tongues: in accordance with the professions of religious belief on the 2001 census forms, I expect to see a few Jedi knights in the sanctuary, while devotees of Ras Tafari smoke ganja at the high altar. And, as one of the realm's noisiest atheists, I hope for a part in the proceedings, too, that I might feel "included".

Curse blogger!

Yesterday Blogger was down almost all day, and as luck would have it, some of the keenest, best reasoned and witty apercus came to my mind and were ready to be shared with a waiting world. These musings are now lost to posterity. I hope posterity will recover. Oh, well, they'll never know what they missed.

Firefox has been having a tantrum also. I downloaded the latest version. Every time I access Al Gore's internet I get a stupid page informing me that Firefox has been updated. (!!!) I know it's updated, I updated it, you clods.

Picasa is not working either. I e-mailed them and they suggested I download some cockamamie program which would improve my graphics. It didn't.

Curses!

Who falls for those dopey commercials?

Um, sometimes it's me.

I don't fall for the car insurance or the male enhancement products, but I do hanker for some of those kitchen gadgets I see demonstrated on television. The gadget that makes spaghetti in five minutes? Only $19.95, and if you act quickly you can get an extra one free? I want it. I would buy a bowflex in a split second, if I had the room and the money. I desperately want an Ionic Breeze.

Cleaning supplies--let me at them! A bathroom cleaner which eliminates all that tedious scrubbing--it's so powerful you don't even have to be in the room, perhaps not even in the house. You can clean the bathroom in absentia. That's for me!

Beauty products! At last, the key to looking and feeling 20 years younger--just what I was looking for. I know they don't work--but they might.
What have I got to lose, except money?

And the car commercials: all those nice views of people tooling along on some scenic highway, looking glamorous, the breeze in their hair, not a care in the world. If they showed fancy cars stuck in traffic on Rt 17 in New Jersey, who would ever buy one? But the urge to buy does come over me--and I'm a person who can't even identify my own car without looking at the license plate.

And I must admit, I have to supress the urge to call LendingTree.com and get a price on a second mortgage.

All these impulses are kept in check by the skepticism of Mr Charm, who thinks everything sold on television is an outright fraud. But, oh, those kitchen gadgets! They could change my life!

I'm not going to weigh into the AnnCoulter thing...

no way. But I noticed a funny thing about widows, or rather, my 85-year-old aunt noticed this and called it to my attention.

My aunt is, of course, a widow, like most women her age. And she hangs around with a lot of other widows, playing golf, wintering in Florida, playing cards, or going out for meals.

"A lot of widows never stop talking about their husbands. How they miss them. How hard life is without their beloved spouses," according to my aunt. In a discreet whisper, she added, "I knew a lot of the husbands when they were alive, and confidentially they weren't that great. Neither were the marriages."

I've found this to be true, generally. My grandmother lobbed grenades of sarcasm at my grandfather, the sweetest, gentlest man in the world, on a daily basis. According to her, he couldn't get anything right. But when he was gone, he was posthumously transformed into a saint. She never remembered one negative thing about him. If she did, she didn't mention it.

Can I just wonder whether these widows who parade their grief are entirely sincere? I know one or two widows who had great marriages, and they seem to have the grace to go on with life. It must be tough, but if they feel sad or lonely they put on a cheerful face, and do any mourning they must feel in private.

Dog bites man

Black voters vote for white supremicist.

World's biggest shoe

Or smallest apartment.

The worms crawl in...

the worms crawl out.

A cautionary tale

Be afraid, be very afraid.

[T]his is how it happens: you start on a sit-up-and-beg bicycle and you are happy to wear clips around the cuffs of your trousers and an old anorak to keep out the rain. But pretty soon you see the need for a bright green jacket with reflective patches and a helmet - something you would have rather died than wear five years ago.

And then your bicycle is stolen. By now you don't know what you would do without one, so you march into the nearest bicycle shop and are happy to be talked into an upgrade. £500? But think of all the money you'll save, you tell yourself.

Once you have a new bike then you don't want to be faffing about with bicycle clips, do you? You want a pair of dedicated cycling trousers and special shoes and then some strange glasses that you know make you look like a giant insect but you don't care because they are for cycling.

After that it is a pair of fingerless gloves, cleats on the bottom of your shoes and Lycra padded shorts. And once you have all this - and you've spent all that money on a second new bike - it seems silly to use it just for commuting. What about a longer ride? A longer ride leads to even longer rides and even more expensive clothing and pretty soon... you are petitioning your friends and family to sponsor you to cycle to Dover and then on to Le Touquet in France, for reasons that you cannot quite put your finger on.[]

Well, that is my story. My name is Toby and I am a cyclist. And to those thousands of you who are taking it up, let me warn you what will happen next. I want you to think of the extremes that lie ahead, like the one I have just been through.

I'm sure it was those lycra biking shorts that did John Kerry in.

This might help explain Patrick Kennedy's problem

Which state has the most dumb drivers?

NEW YORK (CNNMoney.com) - The tiny state of Rhode Island still ranks rock bottom in terms of driving knowledge, according to a national test conducted by GMAC Insurance.

Oh, yeah, this doesn't explain Ted.

Pillage idiot discusses the demise--or not--of classical music

An interesting discussion here and here.

Terry Teachout's essay in the April 2005 Commentary magazine (which unfortunately is no longer online) [is] entitled "Singing the Classical-Music Blues," an article-length review of Joseph Horowitz's book Classical Music in America: A History of Its Rise and Fall....but Teachout quotes Horowitz's view that classical music in America failed because Americans, unlike Europeans, "worshipped musical masterpieces and deified their exponents" and because American musical culture was "less about music composed by Americans than about American concerts of music composed by Europeans" -- that is, it was "culture of performance." Because it was a culture of performance, by the time we began to produce our own distinctive classical music, the culture was already locked up. Orchestras were playing the same European masterpieces. It was hard to persuade them to feature American music.

I suspect this is at most a half-answer. You'd have to include some other important factors: twentieth-century composers who so completely intellectualized their music that audiences rebelled; the dominance of popular culture; the general trend in art away from a belief in greatness; the financial strains of supporting musical institutions....

Allan Kozinn argues in this past Sunday's New York Times that, contrary to conventional wisdom and the opinions of some serious people -- and me, classical music is not dying. The article is called "Check the Numbers: Rumors of Classical Music's Demise Are Dead Wrong."

It's not dead. But the best composers of classical music are dead. I used to attend lots of concerts, living in New Jersey, in close proximity to New York. We heard the best musicians in the world. But every once in a while, these same musicians would perform work by modern composers. I can only guess that they went to Juilliard with these composers, or had borrowed money from them. There was absolutely no esthetic reason for these compositions to be given air time. Nine out of ten--no make that 99 out of 100--were earscreechingly awful. If the program notes revealed that these works were to be performed after the intermission, most of the audience had departed before the concert resumed.

Seriously, I suppose these musicians are trying conscientiously to introduce modern works to a wider audience in the hope that we will learn to appreciate them. But I don't attend concerts to be administered acoustic cod-liver-oil. It may be good for me but I don't want it.

We once attended a concert supposedly dedicated to the works of Henry Purcell. We braved a blizzard to attend, only to find out that the concert contained a spoonful of Purcell and a large dose of Wuorinen. Wuorinen himself presided, and a drier, more didactic and more pompous bore I have never seen. As went the man, so went the work.

At the interval, there was a mass exodus. Those in wheelchairs were running over their more ambulant fellows in an effort to get to the front door first.

Since then, I have never knowingly attended a concert featuring the works of living composers. It works for me.

Arab intellectual isolation

A startling statistic:

Intellectual isolation is a widespread Arab phenomenon, not just an Iraqi one. Some of the statistics are startling. According to the United Nations' 2003 "Arab Human Development Report," five times more books are translated annually into Greek, a language spoken by just 11 million people, than into Arabic. "No more than 10,000 books were translated into Arabic over the entire past millennium," says the U.N., "equivalent to the number translated into Spanish each year."

A really good post. Read the whole thing.
Thanks to the heretical librarian.

Me and a guy named Wayne, I think, back in the 20th century

I'm having great fun scanning my old pictures. I had lots of pictures, from dances, etc, but can't find most of them. I had a nasty habit with these pictures. If I got fed up with the guy, I would cut his head out of the picture. I would put the severed head in a junk drawer and keep the picture. Apparently I wasn't mad at this guy, whose name I believe was Wayne. I think.

  

Old boyfriends are hell. I went to a wedding once, and ran into someone I had briefly dated. He was wearing a hearing aid! Of course, he was much older than me.

When I said hello to him, he didn't recognize me. He asked me if he had had an affair with me! I told him that he would damn well remember me if he had had an affair with me.

Librarian performs heroic rescue

It's no more than I would expect.

We do this kind of thing every day. Well, sort of. Sometimes.

Heads-up from the annoyed librarian.

More religion of peace, anyone?

She doesn't mince words.

If you want to understand the nature of the enemy we face, visualize a tapestry of snakes. They slither and they hiss, and they would eat each other alive, but they will unite in a hideous mass to achieve their common goal of imposing Islam on the world. This is the ugly face of the enemy we are fighting. We are fighting a powerful ideology that is capable of altering basic human instincts. An ideology that can turn a mother into a launching pad of death. A perfect example is a recently elected Hamas official in the Palestinian Territories who raves in heavenly joy about sending her three sons to death and offering the ones wh o are still alive for the cause.[]

Even the Nazis did not turn their own children into human bombs, and then rejoice at their deaths as well the deaths of their victims.

Read the whole thing, and wake up. Ataturk was onto something.

Naked blogging

 
Here's a picture of one of the naked bloggers taking a short break.

Do join us on June 16! 

The sky is falling! the sky is falling!

Oops! It's the environment.

Laura Bush punished for her husband's crimes

Library organization is taking a strong stance against Laura Bush for harboring a criminal.

Stolen from the annoyed librarian.

Great American novel?

A pretty lame list, if you ask me.

I can't believe no-one nominated Morte d'Urban, by J F Powers. Probably because no-one has read it. They are busy reading drivel like Fahrenheit 451.

From the Amazon review:

A comic masterpiece by a criminally neglected writer, J.F. Powers's Morte D'Urban has had a checkered commercial history from the very start. The original publisher failed to reprint the novel after it won the 1963 National Book Award, and although it's had various paperback reincarnations since then, these too have tended to disappear from the shelves. Perhaps any novel about Catholic priests in the Protestant Midwest would be in for some tough sledding. Still, it's hard to think of a funnier piece of writing, or one more accurately attuned to the deadpan rhythms of American speech. Doubters need only consult Father Urban's sermons, which mix pure banality and theological hairsplitting in such exact proportions as to suggest Babbitt in a clerical collar. Yet Powers also manages a kind of last-minute legerdemain, transforming his satiric romp into a deadly serious, and deeply moving, exploration of faith.

Time for naked blogging again

An old but still valid post from last year:
WWho says you have to wear pajamas to blog? I assure you they are not compulsory. You can wear a tuxedo if you wish--or do as I am doing now, wear no clothes, as I wait for the fake tanning lotion to tan me.

Comfy!

Well, now the high in Philadelphia for the day is predicted at 93 degrees, and I've just taken a shower--so--can we plan naked (or nekkid) blogging week again?

A lot of work went into this last year, but the success of the event made it worthwhile. Matt, it's up to you!!!

Donate to a worthy cause

Impoverished librarian want to move up in the world:

I kind of need to create something which will jettison me to riches and fame because I'm just going to put it out there - being poor and unknown has lost its shine. At first it was fun, oh yes indeed, there were good times had by all. Digging in the couch for change, wanting to eat ramen noodles because they're cheap but yet not being able to because ramen is FILLED WITH THE DEMON GLUTEN...in other words, fun. And then one day, not so much. The fun died as I watched Paris Herpesilton move her mountains of money around with bulldozers operated by lemurs in Louis Vuitton hats and Prada booties, money she's earned solely for having a hook nose and fake hair. I'm over it.

On my journey to riches by means of various ingenious inventions, I've run into a few roadblocks, chief among them I'm very lazy and unfortunately untalented with woods and metals. But necessity and spite should be able to overcome these roadblocks, eh?

Does anyone just want to go ahead and give me some money?

It's better than giving it to moveon.com.

How could I have overlooked this?

Everyone's favorite liberal.

If this is their idea of a liberal, you can imagine what their young conservatives are like.

That half-empty glass

Mr Charm has a gloomy world view. Not only is the proverbial glass half empty--it's probably two thirds empty, if the truth were known. And the half that is left is rapidly evaporating. The glass will soon be empty, and probably has a crack in it. And soon civilization as we know it will come to a halt.

I used to attribute his attitude to his obsession with history. He even has a PhD in history, which would give anyone a morbid cast of mind. But, thinking things over, I attribute it to his grandmother, who lived with his family when he was a boy.

Anyone who doesn't think depression is a communicable disease did not know Grandma. At the age of 50, she decided she was too old to go to the movies, and it went downhill from there. Her hobby was sitting all alone in her room, thinking about the days that were dead and gone.

A conversation with Grandma:

Me: Hi, grandma, how are you? I brought you some magazines to read.
Grandma: I can't read magazines anymore, my eyes are too bad. But thanks.
Me: Well, how have you been?
G: I'm an old woman, how should I be? I wish I were in the graveyard with M.
Me: Oh, the baby is crying. I'd better see what she wants. (Rapid exit)

Dental issues

The dentist's office called me and said he (the dentist) wanted to talk to me. Dire news! What could a dentist have to say that would need a special appointment just to talk? I felt like a young Bertie Wooster being called into the headmaster's office for six of the best.

Some background: I used to faithfully get my teeth cleaned every 3 months in Dr M's office (hi Lori!) for 25 years. Dr M purchased a nice van with a television set in the back for his son courtesy of our family.

By the time I retired, Dr M had done something or other to all or most of my teeth and many of my gums. Every tooth bore the mark of Dr M. So I canceled my dental insurance. What else could happen?

Ha! My last visit to Dr M, he started looking gravely in my mouth and muttering ominously. Then he called in a colleague and they both Viewed with Concern. Ominous predictions were hurled about. Bone Loss was mentioned. Plus I needed about 11 root canals.

I left New Jersey and Dr M precipitously. Then I cravenly avoided any dentist until a toothache led me to Dr L, the chape who called me in for a talk.

I have a friend who leaves the room when I mention dentists or even toothbrushes, so I will spare you the details. The good news: I get to keep my gums.