Silflay Hraka

Every now and then I flirt with the notion of canceling my newspaper subscription. It's not like there's a lot in it that I can't find online--comics especially--and the news within is almost always outdated by the time I pick it up, though admittedly I wouldn't know as much about the local news if I had to count on running across it online.

Sometimes though, one just has to have an offline subscription to get the full...flavor of a news story.

Take this keep-the-wife-awake at night scare story from the Washington Post, The Man of Your Nightmares: When Good Husbands Go Bad, which, as tabloidy as it is, seems more or less benign. I took one glance at the first paragraph this morning over coffee, then skipped the whole thing. Inside though, the pulp and ink version of the story has something the electronic versions lack--handy photos.

"That doesn't seem fair," the SW commented to me as she was reading the article--she having somewhat more interest in the general idea of husbands going bad, for some odd reason.

"What's not fair?" I enquired.

"Putting the gay guy next to the murderers."

That made sense. Presumably the N&O;, our local rag, wherein the story appeared this morning, or the Washington Post, where the article was originally published, would be among the first to object if a picture of John "I committed the same kind of atrocities" Kerry appeared beside those of William Calley and Adolf Eichmann in a Swift Boat Vets commercial, yet the N&O;* at least has no compunctions about treating a gay man in the same manner.

Yes, I realize that to some homosexuality is as just as much of a sin as murder** (or worse!) but to be honest, I didn't really think consider the Washington Post and the News and Observer to be members of that group. Perhaps I should.

*I don't have a physical copy of the story in the Post to compare the N&O; article with, and the photos above have a byline of "News & Observer File Photos," so there's at least a strong possibility that only the N&O; is at fault here.

**Or an "accused murderer", but Hacking has already confessed to killing his wife, and do you really think Peterson is innocent?

In an effort to save...let's see here...carry the one....less than $100 per annum, I no longer patronize the upscale and luxurious haircutteries of the world. Instead, when time comes for the shearing, we visit the in-laws, where my flowing locks are removed courtesy of the father-in-law's home barber kit. He doesn't use it, mind you, but it's good enough for the likes of me.

The first time I submitted to the ministrations of G-daddy's electric clippers it was an event. SW sat me up in a chair outside on the deck, running her fingers lovingly through my hair. The kids were gathered round to watch, and a towel was gently wrapped round my neck prior to the wielding of the scissors.

"This isn't so bad," I remember thinking. The more fool me. The shepherd may be gentle the first time, but once a particular sheep is used to the shearing, what's the point?

As you may have gathered, there was no such production this past weekend. No chair, no wife, no running of fingers through the hair. There was just myself, the barber kit, and a vaguely bored Ngnat on the back deck of the in-law's house, with no mirror save the poor one provided by the windowpane in front of me.

To be fair, it's not like my haircuts are complicated things. All one really needs is an electric clipper with a quarter or half inch guide attached, depending on how much hair I wanted left on my head at the end of the process, and ten minutes of time. The end result is perfectly acceptable to me--I'd consider any more effort on the part of my head to be the exercise of needless vanity*, and even when I patronized the discount barberies of the world my main concern was to get in and out in a minimum of time, with a minimum of chat. Getting my haircut was a chore, akin to taking out the trash or emptying the cat box.

All of that floated through my head as I pawed through the contents of the home barber kit, looking for the clipper attachments, eventually leading to two logical, at least to me, conclusions;

"The less I have to mess with this crap the quicker this will be over with." and

"The shorter my hair isat the end of this, the longer it will be until I have to do it again."

Now it turns out that used normally, the non-guide enhanced electric clippers will cut hair down to about an eighth of an inch, but even that setting can be adjusted downwards, to something that I estimate leaves less than a sixteenth of an inch of stubble behind--and it was quick. Save for some minimal retouching in the back, I was done in about three minutes.

It was a very positive experience, made more so by the reaction of the wife, who declared that I couldn't be left alone for more than five minutes at time without doing something stupid, dammit. She then intimated that perhaps I should have had a pass at the eyebrows as well, they being a little too MarkTwainian in appearance for her tastes. Scotty blinked in confusion for a few seconds when he first beheld the new me, but was otherwise pretty phlegmatic about the whole thing.

Ngnat liked rubbing my head, but told me I didn't look like Daddy anymore.

"Who do I look like?" I asked.

"That man from Annie," she replied, to the general amusement of all round.

I'm thinking about getting one of these for next time, though the extra time I would have to spend shaving would argue against it. On the other hand, use of it apparently drives the women crazy with desire.

*Oddly enough, I developed this attitude only after marriage. The thing I feared most as a teenager was that Mom was going to make an attempt to cut my hair with her home haircutting kit--a process that not only felt like it took forever, but left me looking like the class retard.**

**In my opinion. I may well have looked worse.

Admittedly, I most likely will not watch much of the RNC this week, mostly because I have been so tired at night, not because I don't care. However, I will try to catch some of the names in prime time, especially Bush on Thursday. I saw bits and pieces last night, but did not make it all the way through McCain's speech, although he is someone I am usually interested in listening to. However, one part of last night's festivities did catch my attention, and almost caused me to pee in my pants.

During these "festivals" of each party, the candidates like to have celebrities stand up and endorse them. Some of the most popular names in music, television and film are herded through the convention halls in support of their guy. Given the usual liberal tendencies of Hollywood, the DNC is full of some of the most powerful names in entertainment. Last night it became clear to me that the Republicans are having to search long and hard to find an equal amount of entertainers to appear with them.

This was blantantly obvious to me when the RNC showed a video of a tribute to veterans aboard the U.S.S. Intrepid. The "celebrities" involved in this display of patriotism included Rip Torn giving a speech, while the music was performed by The Gatlin Brothers. Wow, and I thought they had all died by now. Yes, the RNC will have Arnold on display, but that may be about it. Does this matter? Probably not. Do you really care what any entertainer thinks about politics? Most likely the answer is no. Still, the fact remains that most people want to see some glamour and Hollywood Royalty when sitting through 3 hours of convention coverage and speeches, and that may be lacking from the RNC.

However, I did hear that Kid Rock might be involved as well, and that would be better than the Gatlin Brothers for sure. Maybe Bush can play off of this and enter the arena on Thursday by screaming, "My name is Georggggggggge......George Bush!," and then go into his version of Bawitdaba. Now that would be worth tuning in for.

Here is someone else's take on Hollywood and politics from a Republican's point-of-view.

Apparently this guy was responsible for the driving duties after a night on the town near Atlanta. In fairness, he did get his friend's body home safely, unfortunately, his friend's head was not as lucky.

At long last, reputable work has been found for Howard Dean.

Is it just me, or is CNN implying that Republicans are dick heads?

Note: The picture will almost certainly be gone by the time you see the link, so I've copied it below for posterity.

Our electoral college results prediction is looking better and better. Bush leads Kerry in the Iowa Electronic Market by his biggest margin since early July. Rasmussen concurs, showing Bush leads in both the popular and electoral college race for the first time all year.

What I found interesting is that another Rasmussen poll found that more Americans consider France an enemy than an ally in the War on Terror. Maybe it's time to bring back the bumper sticker.

Yes, I'm back. I should just put up a notice on the blog towards the end of each summer; "Warning: Students back on campus. Expect long service delays."

Just a few thoughts that came to mind during the boring (non-sports) parts of the Olympics coverage. Sharing the love with my fellow citizens of the world:

Iraqi Soccer

Now that Uday Hussein is running the torture chamber for Allah, the Iraqi soccer team has suddenly begun to play better than ever before. You might have to look hard to see any gratefulness from the Iraqi players or coach.

Star player Ahmed Manajid asked: "How will (Bush) meet his god having slaughtered so many men and women? He has committed so many crimes."

I guess a good old electric shock to the scrotum was just the thing Ahmed liked after a tough game. On behalf of America, I apologize to Ahmed for robbing him of one of life's little pleasures.

Manajid said if he was not playing soccer "for sure" he would be home in Falluja -- a hotbed of resistance to the U.S.-led occupation -- fighting American soldiers.

Ah. Many a revolution has been derailed by a carelessly scheduled sporting event.

"Uh, guys. I would love to oppose British tyranny with you, but I've got polo this afternoon and croquet first thing A.M., so crossing the Delaware will just not work for me." -- G. Washington



Euro Vacation or Worse

While watching the Olympics almost every night, and seeing people from foreign lands, I am reminded of how little I wish to visit any of them. While many people view a trip to Europe (or worse) as a treat, it seems to me like a cruel and unusual punishment. I'll exclude Australia, Canada, and maybe Britain, but the rest of what's out there looks like a nightmare.

Why would I leave my home, my dog and my Tivo to spend thousands of my hard-earned American dollars acquiring severe jet lag, eating questionable food, and being sneered at behind my back (at least by those polite enough to wait until my back is turned)? I can learn everything I need to know about these countries on the Travel Channel, and I am spared the inconvenience of learning it in a country that smells like rectum.

It makes no sense to me, though I never understood the thrill of slumming.



The Olympics - A Time to Put Aside Our Differences

The Olympics are supposed to be free of politics, but I'm hearing a great deal of booing for American athletes this year. It's more than the usual "cheer for the Americans, but cheer louder for the underdogs," which I expect. This is actual booing of American successes. If I can applaud the achievements of Chinese and French athletes, I would hope that other people could put aside their dislike for America to support our athletes.

Every time I take a try at humility, I run headlong into the unavoidable fact that I am better than other people.



China is Logan's Run

The 2000 silver medalist in the 10m platform in Sydney is 21 years old, so the Chinese replaced her with a pair of teenagers. China is actually the civilization from Logan's Run.



The Olympics are Run by Idiots (Part 1)

Greece? Are you kidding me? Let's have a gigantic Olympic Games and try to fill 6 million seats... in Greece? Attendance would have been only slightly lower on Io. Let's have the next Olympics in Qatar.



The Olympics are Run by Idiots (Part 2)

Olympic basketball is officiated like a tea party or like a football game, depending on when you're watching. The players don't know what's going to be called next, and you end up with a tentative, disjointed sporting event. This isn't purely an Olympic problem. The most popular American sports all have referees or umpires, and not all of them are good. The problem is more pronounced in the Olympics though, when you add in the language barrier and you some referee from Antigua who has never officiated above the high school level. Still, it's basketball, and basketball is a good thing. I can shrug my shoulders and live with it.

The judged events are another matter. I've never liked them. When something happens in a sporting event, I want to know what it means. Instantly. I don't want to wait for a bunch of judges to get together, crunch the numbers, cut deals, and announce the quality of the performance I just watched. It's the same reason I don't like instant replay in football. You lose the joy of the moment.

Your guy leaps into the air. He catches the ball. He comes down in the end zone. The official's arms go up. IT'S A TOUCHDOWN! Maybe.

Judged events stink, and that's when everything goes well.

Judged events in the Olympics rarely go well. Rules are misinterpreted. The Russians are perpetually unhappy. No two people involved seem to speak the same language. And the judges are fantastically corrupt.

This last bit, at least, they've managed to handle in a manner that would make the United Nations proud. When marks are shown, the little flag showing the judge's nationality appears next to each respective score. Thus we are assured the event is fair. We can now see that the dirtwad judge from Canada will balance out the slimeball judge from Russia. By balancing the relative scum-bagginess of the disparate judges, we arrive at a situation where eight wrongs come within 0.012 points of being a right.

The sporting world would be better off if they packed up the gymnasts, divers and figure skaters, and sent them on the road like Cirque du Soleil. At least with a decent director, the gymnasts might not make that unpleasant thudding sound when they hit the beam.



What is Greece Going to do with these Lovely New Venues?

Thanks to a few billion dollars down the hole, Greece now has the finest man-made kayaking facility known to humankind, along with a pile of other equally useful venues.



Dream Team

I am beyond sick of all the references to the United States men's basketball team as the "Dream Team." It isn't because they were thrown together at the last minute out of the small list of NBA stars and non-stars who were willing to make the trip. It isn't because they're losing to such dogs as Puerto Rico. (Beat Spain today, though).

It's simply because there is only one Dream Team. Take a look at the roster from the 1992 team, because it's easy to forget how insane it was. Jordan, Magic, Bird, Olajuwon, Malone, Stockton, Barkley, Ewing and more. It was the greatest collection of basketball talent in the history of the Earth. They'll have to make a new wing in the Basketball Hall of Fame just for these guys.

The 2004 team might win this tournament, but if they come home with a substandard medal, or no medal at all, can we finally give the Dream Team crap a rest?



Palestinians are Like Cockroaches

It has been 32 years since the Palestinians broke into the Olympic village in Munich and murdered 11 athletes. It is amazing the world has not managed to exterminate them yet, and it doesn't really seem to be trying.

Also, how do the Palestinians rate an Olympic delegation? There they were marching in the opening ceremony as if they were an actual nation. If any band of dangerous outcasts can apply, I'd like to see a contingent of New York street people. They would probably stand a chance at race walking. If you took a ribbon and a ball and handed them to the guy I saw spinning around and staring at the sky in Central Park, you'd have a rhythmic gymnast.

There are still a few days of Olympics left. Don't miss out on the love.

The 101st edition of the Carnival of the Vanities is hosted by Ego this week.

If you'd like to host the Carnival, drop us a line. Information on how to join the Carnival can be found here. If you would like to be added to the Carnival announcement list, send an email to cotvanities-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

September 1st - Blogo Slovo
September 8th - Pete Holiday
September 15th Silflay Hraka - The Two Year Anniversary
September 22nd - The Eleven Day Empire
September 29th - Last One Speaks
October 6th - Incite
October 13th - Conservative Dialysis
October 20th - The People's Republic of Seabrook
October 27th - The Twins Tell the Truth

All other dates are currently open for hosting. Also, be sure to check out the Carnival's offspring:

The Bharteeya Blog Mela
Bonfire of the Vanities
Carnival of the Capitalists
The Kissing Booth
Carnival of the Canucks
The BestOfMe Symphony
The Carnival of the Cats
Carnival of The Consumers
The Tangled Bank
The Carnival of The Liberated
The Christian Carnival
The Philosopher's Carnival

And the number one reason to watch the Olympics.........girl on girl action.

Courtesy of Scotty and Ngnat.

Ngnat
Olympics - Valympics "Can I watch the Valympics with you, Daddy?"
Fart - Grass - "I went to the potty, but it was just grass."
Burp - Mouth Grass "Daddy had loud mouth grass."
Hopscotch - Hotscots - "Isiahus messed up my hotscots!"
Popsicle - Siclepops - "Can I have siclepops for dessert?"
Father - Dada - an occasional infantalized pronunciation that we consider direct evidence of Scotty M's bad influence on her, usually uttered when she wants to be carried.

Thanks to his tender age, Scotty has a larger number of entries, but no contextual examples
Ball - Ba
Balloon - Bough
Frog - Fra
Toad - Fra
Pacifier - Puh
Bug - Buh
Butterfly - Fwy
May I have some of what you are eating? - Ahhhhhh!
I'm starving, you heartless bastard! - AHHHHHHH!
Cat - Tzishi
Flower - Fla
Train - Mmm-hmmm!
Sister - tita
Mama - Mamamama
Daddy - dadadada
Hello- Heh-ya
Byebye - Byebyebyebye

Second Child Syndrome: SW and I were sweeping up after dinner (cornbread, rice, and beans) when Scotty trundled into the kitchen. He was evidently still hungry, for he bent down, pulled a cold and dusty pinto bean out of the pile of sweepings, and evinced every sign of gastronomic satisfaction upon devouring it in front of his parents.

Neither of us blinked an eye. Nor did we do anything when he returned to the pile a second time for a chunk of Ngnat's discarded cornbread.

After that I felt somewhat guilty, so I poked at Scotty with the broom when he returned yet a third time to the linoleum buffet. Eventually the prickly feel of the broomstraw on the tops of his feet was sufficient to drive him out of the room. I swept the pile up and tossed it outside.

"You see what your son did?" I asked the wife when I came back in.

"He's not my son when he does that," she replied. "He's your's."

Senator Carl Levin, on the Republican proposal to dismantle the CIA:

What he said: "I think it would be better to start on a bipartisan basis, I think it's a mistake to begin with a partisan bill no matter what is in it." (emphasis mine)

What he meant: "Regardless of the merits of the plan, we will oppose this with our last breath, because it's an election year, and we don't give a shit about America."

VP candidate John Edwards, on the new overtime pay rules, which will mean more overtime pay for low income workers, less overtime pay for white collar workers, and far fewer overtime lawsuits:

What he said: "More than 60 years of protecting overtime work have been wiped out with the stroke of this president's pen."

What he meant: "Without all of these overtime lawsuits, some of my buddies will have to go back to inhaling ambulance fumes."

Senator Bob Dole, on John Kerry's war record:

What he said: "And here's, you know, a good guy, a good friend. I respect his record. But three Purple Hearts and never bled that I know of. I mean, they're all superficial wounds. Three Purple Hearts and you're out."

What he meant: "You want to play the war wound game, sonny? I will kick your ass."