Just when you thought it was safe

to bring your nail clippers back onto a plane…. it is. Maybe. Depending on how they define “tool.” Is your tool less than seven inches long? Well, if so, and if it’s sharp, then COME ON DOWN!!

It wore an

itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow planet-forming… well, nevermind…

FRANCE UPDATE: “I’m not sure you can call them riots.”

Rather, Villepin suggests, perhaps it’s severe social unrest when they’re burning hundreds of cars per night.

This is the supposedly first-world country where over ten thousand people can die in one month because it’s hot outside.

I wonder what he’d call the Zombie Holocaust.

Multiple Choice Question for Prospective Roomies

Your roommate won’t share his beer and spaghetti with you. Do you: A) Ask him again nicely? B) Go buy your own? Or C) Open fire on him with your AK-47?

Extra Credit: Explain how all five rounds fired at point-blank range missed both target and neighbors.


(Begin Orbital Mind-Control Laser Burst.)
You, or somebody else in South Korea, read this blog almost every day. Given that I have about five faithful readers, I doubt I’ve suddenly developed a following in the land of Bulgogi and Dul Sot Bi Bim Bap. (MMMM, Bulgogi…..)

We know almost nothing of what you are doing, except that you are apparently really into this whole home-made hooch thing.

You WILL insert a description of your daily life in the comments section of this entry. You WILL include the name of any women playing a significant role in that life. You WILL leave your friends with a clue as to the continuation of your existence and the state of your welfare.

If you DO NOT do this, your friends WILL retaliate by retelling and/or inventing embarrassing Blair stories. If you DO NOT do this, your sister will be especially recruited for the task.

(End Orbital Mind-Control Laser Burst.)

Eason’s back from Iraq

“Yeah, like when we got shelled and didn’t even notice. We were watching Hamburger Hill …. (pantomimes artillery noises, etc.), and heard “whump!”…. and I thought, “wow, that’s cool surround-sound!” Next morning I got asked about the mortar attack. What mortar attack? Oh.”

He’s well, and on his way to Hood for a couple weeks of outprocessing. Then we get to find out whether he decides to live down here or back up North….

The Wind is Coming

Winter has begun.

How do I know? Because yesterday’s high was in the 70s, and tonight’s low is going to be 37. And clear as a bell. Folks, that’s what we call a “Blue Norther” here, and we usually don’t see them until winter is well and truly in swing. Yesterday it started, with winds from the south, loud enough to scare the stray kitten… noon was calm… and by mid-afternoon, the wind was LOUD, 50 mph out of the northwest like a symphony for the damned, carrying tiny little mudballs all the way from the Panhandle to adorn all my car.

All summer long, Dallas aches for a touch of breeze. Unlike Kansas, battleground of the winds, where children get so used to it that they learn how to walk by leaning their upper bodies thirty degrees forward, North Texas truly knows wind for only three seasons per year. In the summertime, we sit in the very center of the high-pressure front that gives everybody else their summer thunderstorms… rainless, windless, and, if we’re in the right part of the drought cycle, under a bronze sky.

Winter is something else, a fickle beast with claws that come all the way from the arctic with the single express purpose of tearing the life-heat out of you as you make your way shivering to the remote parking lot and try to get the key into your car door lock. The temperatures themselves would make your typical Yankee laugh. But the wind can get truly brutal if you’re unprepared for it…

because the next day’s high will be in the mid-60s….

Iron parts for quiver

the top one…

Ancient Warrior Wisdom

“When a man is drunk enough that he can put an arrow into a shot glass from thirty meters on horseback, at a gallop, shooting backwards, don’t buy him another drink, because it’s sure he won’t remember anyway.”

Sonoma County, Eat Your Heart Out.

’nuff said.
(Wine nuts who haven’t been kidnapped by the Franco-Sonoma Axis of Boring can identify the wine in the background.)

Why I’m Fat

Brought to you from Hungary, where eating is the national sport. Imagine, if you will, that Thanksgiving lasts for two weeks, and that women can get off with eating only seconds, but a man who eats less than thirds is making significant comments about the quality of the dish on offer….

Why I’m fat, Chapter One: Turoscsusza, the dish my wife values more than our marriage.

Why I’m fat, Chapter Two. Home-baked sweets.

Why I’m fat, Chapter Three: Cheese and Onion Appetizer Plate.

Why I’m fat, Chapter Four: Stuffed Cabbage, sausage, potatoes, and cream.

Why I’m fat, Chapter Five: Fried Suckling Pig with Purple Cabbage and Stuffing.

Why I’m Fat, Chapter Six: “Pancakes,” Hungarian-style. (A dozen and a half crepes thick with eggs and butter, with layers of jam in between each layer.)

Why I’m Fat, Chapter Seven: “Bird’s Milk” (behind the pancakes)… heavy cream/pudding dessert, with the eggwhites cooked into happy puffs to go on top (far background).

Why I’m Fat, Chapter Eight: Baked Goose Legs.

Why I’m Fat, Chapter Nine: Bacon-wrapped goose livers, baked with garlic.

Why I’m Fat, Chapter Ten: Dessert Pastries.

The more astute of my three regular readers will realize that several of these are courses within the same meal….

Back from Budapest…

Food: awesome, see next post.
Exercise: lots of walking
Christmas presents: 98% done
Politics: miserable. When the Socialists are PC, brussels-inspired country-club Republicans, and the other side is an idea-vacant demagogue… well, let’s not go there.
Research: good stuff. Geekitude posts to follow once my sinus headache’s gone.

And… see next post.

Overtime over, getting ready for Budapest…

Got off work at 8:30 tonight, so getting to go kick people (since I’d show up fifteen minutes before class ended…. in my ropers….).

Veterans’ Day is tomorrow. I’m very happy about that. And in other news, we have already breached the 19-kilowatt laser with good beam quality… go us!

At this rate, my great-grandkids ought to be able to drop Venus’ temperature with a battery of a thousand giant refrigerating lasers…..

“Thank You”

You might want to visit this page and play it for your anti-war friends. The message is true, simple, and clear enough for any kid in school to understand.

I’m kinda moved. In fact, I’m sitting here with my throat as tight as a bodybuilder’s bicep and the water straining at my eyes, thinking my God, my God, for once we didn’t completely fuck up… the usual response to us helping people out being for them to turn around and kick us in the teeth as soon as it’s convenient.

These guys don’t yet have a lot of money. And they’re going to buy US Television Time, just to say “thank you.”

Show it around. Let’s not fuck up some more.

Let’s talk chemical warfare. Home-style.

yeah, yeah, it was supposed to be light blogging… but I'm doing something relentlessly dull, and so my mind's spinning at way too many rpms.

Water Bugs.
Aka, the cleaner variety of roaches.

They're big. And fairly smart. With no fear, they show up somewhere in plain view, as if to say "Hi There! How ya doin'?" And they come in up your pipe drains when it's dry (which has been, homina homina, the past seven months straight here) to get something to drink. While they're hanging around, they look for something to munch on. If their toilet habits weren't so abominable, they might actually be trainable as a beneficial insect.

But, they're not, really. Instead they're just something you put up with, and punch to death when you hear your bunnywife(tm) screech.

Or, you can stock some OrangeGuard(tm) or other citrus-oil cleaner, and instead of chasing after one of nature's dumb-but-nigh-invulnerable masterpieces, you can go SPRAY, and it'll be completely dead inside thirty seconds. No muss, no fuss, wish I'd had this stuff when I had to clean out a few college-student apartments…

Convenient, dead, easy-to-clean-up, nice-smelling bugs. I recommend it.

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