The Inevitable Companion Post

...for the Which Superhero Are You post:

Which Supervillain Are You?

Your results:
You are Apocalypse

Apocalypse 61% The Joker 54% Poison Ivy 54% Mr. Freeze 54% Dr. Doom 53% Magneto 50% Dark Phoenix 50% Riddler 50% Venom 45% Mystique 44% Lex Luthor 39% Juggernaut 28% Kingpin 28% Green Goblin 24% Catwoman 20% Two-Face 20%

You believe in survival of the fittest and you believe that you are the fittest.*

Click here to take the Supervillain Personality Quiz

(h/t to SAP)

*Also? I so don't believe that. FWIW

Have I Mentioned....

...that I love Firefox3?

It's faster, less of a resource hog, and...

Ever since I installed it, YouTube videos have been working for me again!!!!!

Yay, w00t, yee-ha, and yippeeeee!


That is all.

Heh

(h/t to BlueGal)

Happy Solstice and Break A Leg!

Today is the longest day of the year (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is), also known as the Summer Solstice! The actual solstice will be at 7:59pm EDT, so be on the lookout for Oberon and Titania, and if you see a hat and cane with a donkey-head knob ... don't put it on/pick it up!!*

Also, tonight is opening night for the 58th season of the outdoor drama Horn in the West. I was a cast member of that show for several years, and I wrote a bit about it here (including a short clip of me singing).

It has been ten years since I was in the show, but I still remember it fondly. I was in over 250 performances, including several performances where I played the role of Preacher Sims - a part which I understudied all the years I was there. I miss doing the show, it was so much fun.

So, to all my friends who are still doing Horn, I wish you a heartfelt "Break a leg!" and good weather for opening night, and indeed, the whole season. I hope to be able to make it up to Boone to see the show sometime this summer, but if I don't, you can be sure I'm thinking of you guys.

(Wes Martin and Darrell King as Dan'l Boone and Rev. Isaiah Sims, respectively)

*An if thou know'st not of what I speak
then watchest thee this video (beginning at around 3:45 in)

Thursday Python Random Monty SPECIAL BONUS EDITION

Your result for The Monty Python Character Test...

Centurion

You scored 60 Stubborn, 50 Crazy, 41 Agressive, and 60 Evil!

Appearance: Life of Brian



The black shadowed person in helmet.





High Light:



Latin Lesson.



Brian is writing a slogan to a wall, oblivious to the Roman patrol approaching from behind. The slogan is "ROMANES EUNT DOMUS".



Centurion: What's this then? "ROMANES EUNT DOMUS"? "People called Romanes they go the house"?

Brian: It, it says "Romans go home".

Centurion: No it doesn't. What's Latin for "Roman"?

Brian: (hesitates)

Centurion: Come on, come on!

Brian: (uncertain) "ROMANUS".

Centurion: Goes like?

Brian: "-ANUS".

Centurion: Vocative plural of "-ANUS" is?

Brian: "-ANI".

Centurion: (takes paintbrush from Brian and paints over) "RO-MA-NI".
"EUNT"? What is "EUNT"?

Brian: "Go".

Centurion: Conjugate the verb "to go"!

Brian: "IRE". "EO", "IS", "IT", "IMUS", "ITIS", "EUNT".

Centurion:So "EUNT" is ...?

Brian: Third person plural present indicative, "they go".

Centurion: But "Romans, go home!" is an order, so you must use the ...?


(lifts Brian by his hairs)


Brian: The ... imperative.

Centurion: Which is?

Brian: Ahm, oh, oh, "I", "I"!

Centurion: How many romans?

(pulls harder)


Brian: Plural, plural! "ITE".

Centurion: (strikes over "EUNT" and paints "ITE" to the wall)
(satisfied) "I-TE".
"DOMUS"? Nominative? "Go home", this is motion towards, isn't it, boy?

Brian: (very anxious) Dative?

Centurion:(draws his sword and holds it to Brian's throat)

Brian: Ahh! No, ablative, ablative, sir. No, the, accusative, accusative,
ah, DOMUM, sir.

Centurion:Except that "DOMUS" takes the ...?

Brian: ... the locative, sir!

Centurion: Which is?

Brian: "DOMUM".

Centurion: (satisfied) "DOMUM" (strikes out "DOMUS" and writes "DOMUM") "-MUM".
Understand?

Brian: Yes sir.

Centurion: Now write it down a hundred times.

Brian: Yes sir, thank you sir, hail Caesar, sir.

Centurion: (salutes) Hail Caesar.
If it's not done by sunrise, I'll cut your balls off.

Brian: (very reliefed) Oh thank you sir, thank you sir, hail Caesar and
everything, sir!

Take The Monty Python Character Test at HelloQuizzy

(h/t to Wyldth1ng)

Thursday Python Random Monty

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The Awesomely Awesome Solstice Moon Edition

Christina sent me this link, which explains part of this week's title.

Hello, phellow campers!!!!

Let's get this phyre started!!!

Munchies, mixers, and et cetera all in the usual places.

What be on ye mind, this e'en?

George W. Bush: Profile of Putrescence

Oh, what is it this time, you ask?

He speaks up for his BFF John "I Never Met An Issue I Couldn't Flip-flop On" McCain, and says we should open up the continental shelf for oil drilling.

From the NYT article:

President Bush urged Congress on Wednesday to end a federal ban on offshore oil drilling and open a portion of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for oil exploration, asserting that those steps and others would lower gasoline prices and “strengthen our national security.” [snip] The party’s presumptive presidential nominee, Senator John McCain of Arizona, used a speech in Houston on Tuesday to say he now favors offshore drilling, an announcement that infuriated environmentalists who had long viewed him as an ally. Florida’s Republican governor, Charlie Crist, immediately joined Mr. McCain, saying that he, too, now wants an end to the ban. [snip] ...Mr. Bush’s father signed a presidential executive order in 1990 banning coastal oil exploration, and Mr. Bush’s brother Jeb was an outspoken opponent of offshore drilling when he was governor of Florida. Now, though, President Bush is considering retracting his father’s order. Although the chief White House spokeswoman, Dana Perino, said Mr. Bush “is not taking any executive action” on Wednesday, two people outside the White House said such a move was under serious consideration, and a senior White House official did not dispute their account.

But here's the best part:

No one knows for certain how much oil is in the moratorium area. The federal Energy Information Administration estimates that roughly 75 billion barrels of oil in the United States may be found in all areas of the country that are now off limits for development, and that 21 percent of this oil — or about 16 billion barrels — is covered by the offshore moratorium.

According to consumption statistics from 2006, the US uses 20,730,000 barrels of oil per day. So ... carry the one... that works out to approximately 711 days of oil consumption. In 2006. And I'm sure that in the eight to ten years it would take for those oil wells to begin producing that we would never increase our consumption of oil over 2006 levels.


George W. Bush. Still a douche. 215 days left until FREEEEEDOM!!!

Can't. Stop. Laughing.

more funny fail pictures at FAIL Blog

Creative Writing Threedux

Okay folks, you know the drill.

You give me snippets - something like:

The bells in the cathedral tolled 8, but it was only 3:45.

and I give you a story on Saturday (links to previous installments can be found in my sidebar).

So what are you gonna give me to work with this week? (Remember, it's more fun if you don't read the other comments before you leave your own!!)

Father's Day Post

(my dad circa 1958)

Happy Father's Day to my Dad, my Brothers, and all the other dads out there!!!

(why isn't there an Uncle's Day?)

Saturday Fiction

As you know, I am doing this as a weekly feature - well, until the creative well runs dry. Last week's story is here. This week's submissions are in bold (if you want to check up on me, the comment thread is here). Apologies to Garrison Keillor and the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson, but that's where your comments led me this week, folks.

It was a dark night in the city in the mountains. I had been hitting the bottle pretty hard at the Five Spot, my favorite watering hole. I dragged my bleary eyes up towards the clock behind the bar. At first, the clock on the wall read half passed[sic] a monkey's ass, a quarter 'til his balls, but after I rubbed my eyes, I realized that I was still mildly drunk and the clock really read 1:17a.m. Okay, I was more than mildly drunk. I was well on my way to being plastered... or beyond. Jimmy wasn't there that night, and Ellen, the substitute bartender, could see the mood I was in and was setting down a fresh drink for me before I could even ask. The rain was coming down outside like the flow of Niagara over the falls, and the frequent lightning showed the deserted late night streets of the "metropolis" of AsheVegas. Even the cabbies were laying low. I told Ellen to not make me any more drinks, as I had an early appointment the next morning with a potential client. It was a simple check on a business partner who was thought to be skimming profits, but it promised to pay well - and I needed the bucks, as the rent on my office was past due. All of us left in the bar turned to look as lightning struck a lamppost outside, the thunder loud enough to rattle the bottles of premium liquor on the top shelf behind the bar. The sound of the thunder echoed off the buildings of the city as I put on my raincoat and fedora. Ellen asked me if I wanted her to call me a cab, but I told her the walk back to the office would be good for me - and that I was a private investigator, not a mode of transportation. As I stood there, wobbling slightly due to the alcohol and waiting in vain for her to laugh at my joke, I noticed it was silent outside. The rumble had subsided and I went outside at last. I turned right to head down the street toward my office and the rumpled sofa I called my bed, and there she was. Tall and slim, with her long, curly red hair plastered to her head from the rain, she was wearing a white raincoat that looked like the repellent had worn out long ago. She was barefoot, and carrying one high-heeled shoe in her porcelain-skinned, long-fingered hand. "Excuse me, sir," she said in a throaty voice that would warm an Iditarod racer who had been on the go all day in a blizzard. Do you know the famous detective, Guy Noir? The doorman at his building said he hangs out in the bar you just left." "I not only know him, I am him," I replied. "Wow," she said. "That's some kind of coincidence." "I'm in no position to believe in coincidence." She grabbed hold of me as another bolt of lightning struck nearby, wrapping her slim arms around my neck and holding on tight. I could feel her heart beating against my chest as she sobbed quietly. She looked at me sheepishly as she released me and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Noir. I'm a bit afraid of thunderstorms. I didn't hurt you, did I?" "My neck hurts," I replied, still feeling the warmth of her being pressed against me, "but that's an old injury and not your fault. Why don't we go to my office and out of this storm, and you can tell me why you were looking for me?" A part of me hoped another lightning bolt would cause her to grab hold of me again, as it had been some time since a beautiful woman had been that close to me, but we made it to the Acme Building without any of them. We went up the elevator to my floor and into my office. I went into my bathroom to get her a towel so she could dry her hair and face, and when I came back out I stood stunned for a moment. She had taken off her raincoat, and stood there wearing a rain-soaked peasant blouse and a skirt so short I could see the bottom of the word "Saturday" embroidered on the back of her panties. I handed her the towel and went to the closet to get her one of my spare shirts. "Here," I said, handing her the shirt, "you can go into the bathroom and put this on. We can hang your blouse over the radiator to dry." Her pale face turned red as she looked down at her blouse that was stuck to her like a second skin. "Thank you. I'm not leaving much to the imagination right now, am I?" "I don't mind," I said quietly to her back as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door. When she came out of the bathroom and laid her blouse and skirt on the top of the radiator, she told me why she had been looking for me. Her name was Arianne Campbell. She owned a small bake shop and cafe on the other side of town, and was having problems with the lawyer's office next door. There were all sorts of loud and strange noises coming from over there all day long, and it was scaring her patrons off. While she told her story, I stood at the window watching the rain fall. I had heard of the shop she owned. It was one of those sketchy places, but the food was great. I had never been there myself, as I was the type that preferred street vendor hot dogs to gluten-free carob chip muffins. When she fell silent, I turned to tell her my standard rates and saw that she had fallen asleep on the sofa. I sighed, pulled my tattered blanket over her, and sat down at my desk. I put my feet up on the desk and settled back to nap a bit myself, somewhat glad that we didn't negotiate my fee while I was drunk. That had never worked out well for me in the past.... The sound of the garbage truck backing into the alley outside my window woke me. The sun was low on the eastern horizon and just beginning to send its golden rays into my office. I looked over at the sofa and wasn't surprised to see it empty. I brewed a pot of coffee and washed my face, then decided, since my appointment wasn't for another two hours, to head over to her place - make sure she was okay and to return her clothes that she had left on the now cold radiator. As the cab pulled up to her address, I could see her standing on the sidewalk in front of her shop. She sighed as she watched the hand-painted sign flapping loosely above her little bakery: 'Pie Dough and Trends'. Once, it had been the favorite haunt of the "in" crowd. Now, she was in jeopardy of losing it. "Good morning, Miss Campbell," I said as I stepped up beside her and held out her blouse and skirt. "You left these at my office." She flashed a brilliant smile at me and said "I hope I didn't wake you when I left. I needed to get over here and open up ... in case anyone shows up wanting food, that is." Her large blue eyes began welling with tears as she turned and unlocked the front door of the shop. "Let me repay your generosity from last night by fixing you some breakfast." The strong coffee laying in my stomach lurched at the thought of a seven grain bagel joining it, and I graciously declined. "Well," I said, "I might as well look in on your neighbor while I'm here." A large man with long curly hair had just unlocked and entered the lawyer's office and it appeared they were now open for the day. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Noir!" she cried, hugging me tightly. I gave her a brief hug in return and then stepped through the door and into the law office. I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me. The large man had taken off his overcoat, and was standing in front of a picture of a tropical beach, wearing only a long print Polynesian skirt. "The Fucking Bees! Oh, Jesus God. Mother-kripes-fucker! What the poop!" he screamed at the picture. The picture on the wall just stared back at him. Never saying anything. He noticed me then and spun around shouting something that sounded like .... Mommadaddy smelled like trees. Burnt trees on a sultry Sunday morning. But I couldn't understand him because there was a disgusting fluid bubbling out of his mouth as he tried to speak. He lurched toward me and, before I could completely react, puked on me. My hand was covered in sticky, putrid goo, and there wasn't a sink to be found. He grabbed a coffee mug off the desk and swatted at the air around his head. He then turned his crazed gaze on me again and held the mug out in front of me like a gun. "Don't you point that coffee mug at me, young man!" I shouted at him, backing slowly toward the door. "I'm from Samoa!!!" he gibbered. "The Devil not only made me do it, but he changed the mug from a .357 Magnum into what you now see." His eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and I thought he was going to pass out. Then he looked at me and said - in a calm voice, "Good morning, sir. May I help you? Let's go next door and get a bagel, okay?" I followed him into Pie Dough and Trends, somewhat taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor, and looked over at Arianne as the Samoan lawyer went into the bathroom to wash up. I started to ask her if he was the only person next door when a scream from the bathroom echoed through the shop. The door burst open and the Samoan stood there, drool dribbling from his chin and the crazed look back in his eyes. The so-called "luxury soap" left a nasty rash that crept up his forearms as he slowly advanced toward us, wielding a large sliver of broken mirror. Arianne screamed as he stabbed at me, and.....

Look for the new request post on Monday!!

/Wonders If It's Possible to Hibernate Through the Summer/

I sat down this morning to write a political post ... but then I saw this over at Zaius Nation. More of the same from the Repellican Party. Dr. Z's final paragraph pretty much sums things up:

It's not like the the media isn't paying attention to the stark differences between Michelle Obama and Cindy McCain, however. I did find two different articles that cover this story in detail. One was from Korea and the other one was from Africa.

Go read the whole thing, please.

Pilfered From Pidomon: Which Superhero Are You?

I found this over at his place last night (he stole it from swinebread):

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 85% Green Lantern 75% Superman 60% Iron Man 60% Supergirl 55% Wonder Woman 50% Hulk 50% Catwoman 45% The Flash 45% Robin 40% Batman 20%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero am I?" quiz...


And here I thought I'd be Ben Grimm (The Thing) or the Hulk.

Thursdom Ranty Pyday Monthon

Ah, a classic -- err, that's Classical!



Oh!

Don't forget to (if you have not already) leave me a comment on this week's Creative Writing post! New story on Saturday!!

I'm Voting Republican!*

Thank Ceiling Cat YouTube worked (for a moment) this morning.



(h/t to Mustang Bobby)

*yes, it's satire.

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The No Spammers, My "Baby-maker" Does Not Need to be Updated Edition

Hello, All!

Does anyone ever really click on emails with those subject lines? Much less actually respond to them? I was cleaning out my spam folder this morning, and 12 of the 20 messages there had that subject line - or variations of it. Jeebus.

Anyway, it's time to light a Phyre!!! Don't worry, it's virtual and throws off no heat.

Whatchya got on yer minds, my phriends? Grab a beer (or gnat's piss if your name is pidomon) and speak up!!!

Sometimes You Just Need a Quickie

To steal a line from the inimitable Dr. Zaius:

No time for blogging today!!!

Thunderstorms have been barreling through here this afternoon, and I've been unplugged quite a bit. Plus, I'm actually working on some writing for pay! (don't worry, it's a mere pittance - but a pittance is better than an empty belly!)

So, .... ummm,... check out my blogrolls! Yeah, that's the ticket! They all have awesome things to say on a regular basis, so visit early and visit often.

Oh, and if you haven't yet, leave a comment on yesterday's post so your bit will be included in this week's Creative Writing Exercise!

Heh. The Wagner overture "made famous" by Bugs Bunny's "What's Opera Doc?" is playing on the radio right now. How drollishly apropos, WCQS host!


/dodges lightning bolts to click "Publish Post" button/

Coolest Photo of the ... Well, I'm Not Sure of the Timeframe Yet, But It's Pretty Dang Cool!

The Earth/Moon system as seen by the High Resolution Imaging Science Experiment (HiRISE) camera, currently in orbit around Mars.

(h/t Jeff Fecke at Shakesville)

Creative Writing Redux

Okay, I had so much fun with this post on Saturday that I'm gonna keep doing the same thing. For those who missed the setup the week before, what I'm doing is taking comments - a phrase or a "moment" of description - left in the designated thread (that would be this one) and writing a scene or possibly a complete short short story using all the comments - or as many as I can, as the case may be. An example might be:

"Don't you point that coffee mug at me, young man!"

I would like to add one thing. If you choose to leave a comment on this, please don't read the other comments (if any) before you leave yours. The challenge is for me to weave together unrelated bits into a coherent whole. I will post the new scene/story on Saturday.

So, whaddaya say?

I Didn't Duck In Time

... so pidomon tagged me for this one.

Two by Two

Two Names You Go By
1. Phy/Phyd/Phydeaux
2. Bob

Two things you are wearing right now
1. Gym shorts
2. "Support Your Local Brewer" tee shirt

Two of your favorite things
1.Raindrops on roses
2.Whiskers on kittens

Two things you want very badly at the moment
1. For Gentleman Farmer to return from vacation next week and decide it's time to start one of the three big projects he's had "just waiting to start" for the last few months (which would mean steady - and good - income for a while)
2. A batch of brownies and some dark chocolate ice cream to go on top :)

Two favorite pets you have or had
1. Serena, who was my kitty for 18 years.
2. Ginger, who was a ginger chow, and the bestest, sweetest doggie ever.

Two people you hope will fill this out
1. Jen
2. Christina

Two things you did last night
1. Hung out at the VPub for a bit
2. Watched Much Ado About Nothing and A Midsummer Night's Dream

Two things you ate last night
1. Macaroni
2. Cheese

Two people you last talked to
1. Downstairs Neighbor's squatter
2. Downstairs Neighbor's boy toy

Two things you are doing tomorrow
1. Meditating
2. Who knows, it's not tomorrow yet

Two of farthest trips taken in the last 5 years
1. Rigel VII (but I'm not supposed to talk about that)
2. Ormond Beach, FL

Two favorite holidays
1. I don't do holidays
2. I still don't do holidays

Two favorite beverages
1. Stout
2. Iced tea (sweet)

A Post For Saturday

As you may recall, last Saturday I had the idea that I would solicit "moments" from commenters and then weave them all into one story. Well, here 'tis (quotes in shades of red - thanks to Jen for pointing that out in comments):

Bill turned to Jerry and said, "Where did that armadillo come from?" Jerry replied, "That's not an armadillo. It looks more like an armored dildo." His response was unsatisfactory on so many levels. But then, Jerry was known for not being very satisfactory. On many levels. Bill stood there, watching the armored critter scurry across the shimmering pavement, and it suddenly dawned on him that he'd made a terrible mistake. Jerry had convinced him to go on the road trip, using that last fight Bill had with Teresa as the ultimate goad. And now, she was desperately searching for him in order eliminate him from her life for good! How could I have been so dumb? Bill thought to himself, thinking back to the scene a few days earlier. I want my two dollars!" Teresa shouted over the thunder. Bill stood there, with a hurt look on his face. He'd laughed once when she said things like that. Now he couldn't even manage a smile. Their relationship had always been ... exciting and somewhat contentious, but for many years he had always enjoyed the friction - and the making up. "Well? What do you have to say?" she asked. "The drawing was a few minutes ago. If you'll switch the TV over to the news, they'll be showing the numbers. I may have already won?" he responded, his voice growing desperate as her face grew darker with what appeared to be true anger. She considered a few possible responses, and then realized she had to leave before the rain began in earnest. "I just can't take it any more, Bill. We're broker than broke, and you're buying lottery tickets. I'll be ... I don't know. I just know I have to get out of here." Teresa grabbed her keys and left, slamming the kitchen door behind her, which caused - as always - the lower cabinet door to swing open, and the mutated cockroaches which had taken up residence there were suddenly bathed in the bright light of the kitchen. It became quite clear that the cockroaches - like Bill - had no other place to go. It was at that moment that Jerry showed up, and started talking about a road trip to Vegas....

Thanks for playing, everyone!!

A New Post*

Gas hit $4.00 a gallon here this week, and my '93 Dodge Spirit gets a whopping 23mpg. So that means to drive over to Gentleman Farmer's and back now costs me about $12 dollars.

So I'm thinking about getting a scooter. (Cause I want to be like Christina) At somewhere between 50 and 75 mpg? It's a no-brainer. So, I'm searching the classifieds and Craigslist for a 150cc model (the 50cc + mountains + my size = walking is faster). Also, the route I prefer to take to get to GentFarm's is mostly back roads anyway, so the lower speed won't be a problem.

Wish me luck.

*Because Dusty said so, that's why.

Wherein I Get All Philosophical

What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03) created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Existentialism Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life. “Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.” “It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” --Jean-Paul Sartre “It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.” --Blaise Pascal More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page... Existentialism 95% Hedonism 90% Utilitarianism 80% Justice (Fairness) 75% Kantianism 65% Apathy 45% Nihilism 35% Strong Egoism 30% Divine Command 15%

(h/t to Liss)

Thursday Python Random Monty

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The Going Over to a Friend's House For Dinner and Not Sure What Time I'll Be Back Edition

So, now we're pretty sure that's it's gonna be Barack Obama -v- John McCain come November. This is gonna be "fun", where "fun" = "a pile of Republican-fanned racism and blatant lies".

But let's not talk about that tonight. In fact, let's talk about anything but that, kay?

The Final Tuesday

Well, until 4 November, that is.

Those bellwether* states, Montana and South Dakota, are voting today in the final primaries of the season (and there was great rejoicing throughout the land). It is most likely that Barack Obama will have enough delegates in his column after today to be the unofficial "candidate presumptive". And, according to posts at Shakesville, Hillary Clinton may be conceding tonight, and - GASP!!11! - might even be considering accepting an offer to be the Vice Presidential candidate.

How awesome would that be, for the Dems to be running an African-American (a young one at that) and a woman ... against the GOP's same-old Old Rich White Dudez ticket (c'mon, you know McCain's gonna pick some rich old fart)?

In any case, I am so glad that the primaries are over!!!


*an etymological aside - I've always thought the word was "bellweather" and that it had its genesis in "bell" and "weather", but I was wrong. (mark this date) The word actually comes from "a wether or other male sheep that leads the flock, usually bearing a bell", according to the dictionary. Thus endeth today's lesson in wordiness.

What I Didn't Tell You Friday

... when I posted about bush-hogging, basically because I was feeling brain-dead by the time I got home (spending hours sitting on a tractor in the sun will do that to you), was that in the middle of the afternoon, the tractor just ... died on me. Half a tank of diesel, and it just quit.

I left GentFarm a note, describing the 'symptoms' and went over to a friend's house. He and I got to talking about meditation, and he taught me a few simple techniques, which I have already found helpful. I've always been interested in meditation, but haven't been willing (or, most of the time, able) to shell out $$$ to get someone to teach me. So I was glad that my friend volunteered the info. He also showed me some Tai Chi body relaxation moves, which have also already proved beneficial.

Anyway, there's still several hours of 'hogging' to do, but that must wait for the tractor to be healed.

Don't forget to comment on my post from Saturday, if you have not yet done so! The deadline is Wednesday noon (my time, EDT).

Change of Plans

Just a minor one.

After reading the first couple of comments on my previous post, I've decided that I will (attempt) to write a short story incorporating all the comments. If you haven't left one yet, please do so, either on that post or this one.

Any comments that come in before ... oh, let's say Wednesday, noon EDT, I'll try my best to include.

This could be fun.

Idea For A Blog Post For Next Saturday

I'm trying to get my writing juices (fiction, not blog posts) flowing again, so I'd like to try a little experiment.

Please, if you would, leave a comment describing an instant. Something like:

Bill turned to Jerry and said, "Where did that armadillo come from?"

and whichever one strikes a chord in me, I'll write either a short short or a "scene" around that moment - to be posted next Saturday.

Thanks!

UPDATED (17:00 SUN): Haloscan seems to not be working. Shocking, I know. Please try back later or send me an email - phydeauxspeaksATgmailDOTcom.

Bush-Hogging

I rode this all day. Well, not exactly that, but one just like it, except kinda beat up with a bush-hog (big ass mowing deck) on the back.





I did the same yesterday, over at this house,




My brain is tired from being out in the sun all day.


Oh.

I was mowing a 12 acre meadow, in case anyone wonders why I was riding a tractor for two days.

Bet you thought, by the title, that this post would be about something else, din't ya?

Thursday Python Random Monty

And now for something completely different - since I'm still having trouble getting YouTube videos to play....

Tell me in comments (and link if you want to) what is your favorite sketch by Python?

Myself, I have a hard time picking favorites of anything, but I would say that "The Ministry of Silly Walks" is right up there. It's one of the first bits of Python that I remember seeing (on public television waaay back), and it hooked me forever.

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The No Idea What to Call It Edition

Hey, All!

It's been raining here all day, gently at times and by the bucketfull at times.

Which of course means, my internet connection is spotty. So who knows if I'll be around tonight.

THIS DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU ALL CAN'T HAVE A CONVERSATION WITHOUT ME! Please, feel free to hang out and chat to your hearts' content - or not, as you wish. At the very worst, I'll read it later.

So, what's on your mind?

A Contest!

Finish this sentence with your best alliterative phrase:


"John McCain is..."

My response is: "... a putrescent pandering pile of prairie dog pellets."

Winner receives ... something.

Memorial Day 2008

A heartfelt thank you to all who have served this country - with especial homage to those who gave their lives so that we could live free.

We continue to hope that their sacrifice has not been in vain.

Don't Panic!

And don't forget your towel!!!

500

According to my dashboard, this is my 500th post.

Yay me.

Sunset

On Mars. How cool is that?



(photo from Discovery News)

Cathartic Photography

My Siamese Cousin, The Cunning Runt, has posted the

Best.

Picture.

Evah!!!!

Thank you, Cuz.

Under The Wire

My power has been out for more than two hours for the third time in a week. It just came back on a few minutes ago.

When, exactly, did the US become a Third World nation?

Well, at least the power company stockholders are reaping record profits. So at least they can afford to buy generators to get them through the power outages, which helps their buddies in the oil industry, cause generators run on petroleum products.

See? A win - win situation!

Vote McCain!!

/snark

Thursday Python Randomity

This week's installment comes to you courtesy of Christina, as I still haven't figured out what the deal is with my computer and YouTube. It was suggested that there was a problem with my Flash player, but a) I have the latest version and b) every other Flash app works fine.

Also, I never really noticed until I couldn't watch them, but there are YouTube videos freaking everywhere!

Enjoy!

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The I'm Pre-Posting This Because My Power and InterWebs Connection Are Both Iffy Today Edition

Whew. The power was out for three hours this morning, and the connection was out for an hour a little while later.

I may have to comment via pigeon or smoke signal, but y'all have at it!

For Dusty

Because, no, I'm not mad at you. :)

Scenes of Teh Lair Woods, Teh Mountainz, NC.

Rhododendron! Covered with new growth.

Woods.

More woods.

Blackberry in full bloom.

Yeah, it's gonna be a good year for blackberries.

And don't worry, Dusty, I'll keep posting more pics.

I'm a Minion! w00t!!

For an explanation (of sorts), see this post at Shakesville.

The Splotchy Virus Strikes Again

Brotha pidomon has tagged me!!

Here's the deal:

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours. -Splotchy




I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words. (Splotchy)

Despite the throbbing pain in my knees and the dull ache in my lower back, I bent down slowly and picked up the envelope...

Oh no. It did not say this, did it?

Oh yes, it did. It did.

The handwriting was familiar in a way that inspired a cold sweat and a bout of nausea. It was the penmanship of my former husband. You know - the one that was presumed dead.

He disappeared in a suspicious blogging related accident a number of years ago and was never heard from again. I was devastated. I had hated the blog, loathed the thing. What began as a hobby that took but a few minutes a day had morphed into an addiction, the proportions of which could not be measured. It was pure evil.

The blog turned into a cruel and demanding mistress and her siren song was more than I could compete with. One day he left for an evening event, never to return again.

All fingers pointed to one blogger, but I could never get the charges to stick. That one is slick- slick, slick, slick. He can talk a good game and write like nobody's business. But there is something about him, it just is not right.

So my husband was gone, that other one kept blogging and I had to rebuild my life, which I did.

So I finally had the bastard declared dead.(FranIam)

I took the envelope inside and got out a magnifying glass. I studied the scribblings on the front and made out the words “This is for you. You KNOW why” just above the undead bastard’s name. What the hell?

What could it be? What did he mean, I “KNOW” why? What did I do? I had never been anything but faithful to him and his "interests." I followed his stupid blog as it meandered through the vapid expanses of his small mind, trying my best to be polite when he talked about some comment he’d gotten on a particular post, or a funny link he’d dropped into a post.

Just thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

Despite a fleeting fear that there might be anthrax powder in the envelope, I opened it and pulled out the contents. (dguzman)

A noodle, a meatball and one of the six legs of a squid? (Squid have six legs, not eight, right? Unsure I rushed to my computer to ask The Lord Google. OMG, I was wrong! Squid do have eight legs. And two tentacles. Like cuttlefish. I digress. Damn you Google!)

What was he working on when he had that blogging accident? I thought back to the nights of feverish typing. The nights the keyboard fairly reeked of despair, flopsweat and ricola. He would babble "vision quest" "noodly appendage" "the alpha and the semolina" "green sticky spawn of the stars". This last I just attributed to far too much interest in the pussy photos of Britney Spears.

In shaky handwriting was the couplet:

That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange æons even death may die

I felt that I was beginning to understand. He had been killed in an epic battle of Good versus Not-So-Good or even "meh!" (Jess Wundrun)


Shakily, I set the envelope down and wiped my hands on my jeans. I got up immediately and headed for the fridge, from which I pulled a recently-opened carton of the cheapest wine I was able to find last time I went shopping, raised it over my head, tilted my head back, twisted the cap, and greedily gulped down about two liters of forgetfulness.

It didn’t work. Or maybe it did, because when I woke up that evening in a puddle of cheap wine and bitterness, I couldn’t remember how I got there or how I had gotten so desperate in life to be drinking wine from a cardboard box.

Oh yeah, him.

It was dark outside, so nobody noticed when I stumbled into the back yard and peed against a tree.

What? Holy shit! I must have been drinking cheap wine for more than just tonight! I’d completely forgotten I was actually male!

I raced back into the house and found a utility bill amongst the pile of unopened mail on the kitchen counter. Then, I extricated my wallet from a jacket pocket, pulled out my driver’s license and compared the two address. They didn’t match. They weren’t even from the same state! What the…. Who the….

And then it dawned on me. I’d spent so much time recently reading other people’s blogs, I had somehow managed to take on the identity of a female blogger. Cripes. What have I done!?!?!

I looked again at the address on the utility bill. The name read “Michelle Malkin”. And then I looked on the back of the envelope that had been left on the front porch. Rubber-stamped were the words, “From the office of the Democratic National Convention”. Time seemed to suspend itself while I headed back to the fridge, looking for another box of cheap wine. (Commander Other)

Because all I could find in the fridge at this point was a moldy orange and a styrofoam container of questionable leftovers, I decided it might be a good time for me to get the hell out of there. This "Michelle Malkin" might be behind my current identity crisis. I was vaguely starting to realize that I must have been hypnotized. But, why? What in the world would Michelle Malkin want from me? Some visceral image of a diaper and an airport bathroom was starting to come into focus, the discomfort of which made me happy to distract myself with the prospect of... escape?

I had keys in my pocket to a car in the garage that I didn't recognize and I got in the car and drove instinctually toward what appeared to be a down town area. I decided I had to get myself to a hotel room and a location with internet access to find out who this Michelle Malkin was and how the hell I ended up in Dallas, of all places. (Freida Bee)

Instead of a hotel I cut through the fence at Six Flags and slept for the night in the log plume ride. Wet but comfortable. I-30 was a mere moment away and I could change direction and go to Ft. Worth instead and eat BBQ'd cow until the cows came home.

Once in Ft Worth I met up with a Kay Baily Hutchinson outside the the Colonial Golf Course. Boxes of wine were everywhere

She on one side of the fence and me on the other all she would say is "All will be revealed" and then shanked a 3 iron into the rough.

Confused I got back into the car and drove. My destination unknown. (pidomon)

I drove for several hours, taking random turns, hoping that I could shake the Republican tail that KBH sent after me. I knew that if they caught me, I would be in a gulag faster than I could say, "Help, help! I'm being repressed!!" Finally, the fleet of Hummers all fell by the wayside, out of gas. I smiled, and thanked whomever it was that had bought the Prius I was driving.

Then I aimed myself southward, and headed towards Austin, since I knew that the blogger konagod lived there. I hoped he and txrad would hide me for a couple of days while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Once I reached Austin, I pulled into the parking lot of a Panera Bread restaurant, and used their wifi to log on to the InterWebs and buzz kona. "Get your fucking ass over here," he said, and sent me directions to the kona ranch. I pulled in to their driveway just as the last rays of sunlight faded into dark.


I tag kona, Portly Dyke, and Space Cowboy.

A Story For a Sunday

Over at Little Bang Theory, my Siamese Cousin has posted (his inimitable version of) Friday Kitteh Blogging, which reminded me of something that happened years ago.

Back when I was in the Boone, NC area, I lived for several years in a small farmhouse out in the western hinterlands. One Sunday in late summer, as I was watching a football game on the idiot box, I heard a clomping coming from outside. I walked over to the window to look out, and at first I thought the pot was exceptionally good, as I saw a half a dozen llamas charging up the road past my house. "Now, that's something you don't see everyday," I said to myself (luckily, my self didn't answer). They were really there, though, and then it got even weirder.

The llamas were being herded by a Jaguar. No, not the big cat - the car. Turns out, one of my neighbors up the road had bought the llamas from another nearby farm (there were several llama farms in the area) and, since it was only a couple miles from their old home to their new one, he decided to to have a "llama drive".

Oh, how I wished I had a camera that afternoon!

The Real John McCain

The latest from Brave New Films:



Please pass this along to everyone.

Geekified!

78% Geek

(h/t to SAP)

Appeasement?

By now you've all seen or read about The Current Occupant's speech before the Israeli Parliament yesterday, wherein he accused (unnamed) Democrats of being like the Nazi appeasers leading up to WWII - because they've expressed a willingness to talk to our 'enemies'.

You also know that (as usual) Georgie's full of shit.

But do you know that G Dub is a hypocritical lying sack of shit? His grandpappy made millions of dollars off the Nazi war machine?

From the Guardian (UK):

George Bush's grandfather, the late US senator Prescott Bush, was a director and shareholder of companies that profited from their involvement with the financial backers of Nazi Germany.

Read the rest here.

Thursday Random Python(ish)

As you may recall, I am unable to watch YouTube videos /curses vehemently/. But that's not gonna stop me! Oh, no! After much cajoling and begging, I got Jen to find me something post-worthy. I think you'll all be pleased.

And now for something completely different:



And a bonus, non-Python video....

2008 Dem Ticket?

I know this video is all over the place, but it was sooo nice to hear John Edwards speaking again, I just have to post it:



(thanks to Dusty for the video)

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The Trojan War Edition

Hello, everybody!

I'm still having trouble with this statue of a horse that's taken up residence in my computer, but the Phyre must go on!!!

Feel free to commiserate with me.

What else is happening out there in InterWebs Land?

Poll Results for "Embiggen" Question

Always 4 (16%)
Sometimes 18 (78%)
Never 0 (0%)
Didn't know I could 1 (4%)
Why the hell would I want to do that? 1 (4%)


Thanks for the input, my phriends. I've always wondered if people looked at the photos in a more than cursory manner, and now I know.

What Did I Do Today?

Not a whole helluva lot. The winds blew hard all night long, and woke me several times through the night, as the Secret Lair (aka '73 Winnebago) shook.

And then about noon, the power went out. It came back on about a half hour ago.

I missed you all today. A lot. I am addicted to my friends and to the internet.

It was getting dark (and a bit chilly), and my neighbor told me the power company said the power wouldn't be back on until 1PM tomorrow, so I decided that I should build a fire in my firepit.

A real one, not a pheaux phyre.








All in all, not a bad day - especially compared to the folks in China and the midwest - but my thoughts were very different from the last time I was without power (and internet).

My neighbor needs a generator, so I won't be without Internet again. ;)

Mother's Day Photos

My Mom, before she was a mom (1945 or 46, I can't remember - hey, I wasn't there!):


And on my parents' 60th anniversary:



Happy Mother's Day, Mom!!

(she doesn't read this blog, but I will be calling her later on this afternoon )

Last Update on the Disappearing House

This shot was taken from the same spot as the previous ones.




Also, it looks to be a good year for blackberries:


And azaleas (that's Neighbor's house):

My Brain Pattern

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy. You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts. People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused. But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Just what I imagined it would be. And, the rabbits agree.

(h/t to MathMan)

Blog Note

For some reason ... okay, it's a Trojan I'm having trouble zapping ... Google/Blogger is, at times, under the impression that I am a virus.

I finally managed to get my page to load, so I'm posting this real quick.

So, if I don't get around much today, you'll know why.

Shocking News!!!!

Big Bidness interested only in profit!!!

Okay, not so shocking, after all.

Monsanto, the the agro-bidness that brought farmers crops that produce non-viable seeds (so that the farmer has to buy new seed each year, unlike the time honored practice of using seed from this crop to grow the next) is now - well, actually has been for some time - schlepping Genetically Modified (GM) crops that produce lower yield than nature's own.

But you can spray Round-up on them without killing them. And, hey, if rain washes the herbicide into the streams and rivers of Middle America©, oh the fuck well. I'm sure they're working on GM trout and bass and ... wev. Not to mention that even more acreage of corn will have to be planted to make energy negative ethanol to fill the maws of SUVs across the land. It's not like people can eat corn, after all ... oh, wait.

If you are in a place where you can grow your own (I'm talking veggies here), then two words for you:

Buy heirloom.

Thursday Python Random Monty

As luck would have it, I can see a video today, and so am able to post this week's randomity.

Flying Sheep:

Pheaux Phyre Phorum: The Where Are My Cookies Edition

(Just picking, Linda!)

Evening, everybody!

May is here, the trees are in full pollen (/sneezes ... for the thousandth time today/), the windows are staying open all night and ... all that Spring stuff.

I've restocked the beer weir in the creek, have munchies on the table, and all I need is comments from my phriends!

How is your May going?

Teh Fish Pit, Part II

A month and a half ago, I posted this.

Downstairs Neighbor has now begun Phase II:











Just another 2500 gallons of water (or so), and some stonework around the lip and in the bottom, and some waterfall work, and a pump and ... well, there's still a lot to do.

He wants to be done with it by the end of the month. Shouldn't be a problem.

A Post About Work

... and jobs in general.

As long time readers and friends know, I have been working for Gentleman Farmer for the last six years or so, doing whatever needs doing on his farm or at his various properties. I met him in the summer of 2001, when I was renovating the basement of the old Woolworth Building (which he owns), in an attempt to open a theatre and performance space. In fact, the name of the place was going to be "The Performance Space on Haywood Street". As I explained in this post, that didn't work out.

GentFarm walked in one day as I was building a long wall (the whole thing was about 60' long, though split into sections by the support columns that ran down the center of the basement). He introduced himself to me and said he was looking for L, the Artistic Director of the company. She wasn't there, and he and I got to talking and he mentioned how impressed he was by how straight the wall was that I was building. I laughed and said, "Well, walls are supposed to be straight, right?" He agreed, but added that they often, especially when so long, aren't.

Anyway, when it became apparent that the Space was never gonna happen, GentFarm mentioned to me one day that the handyman/helper that he had working for him for the last several years was no longer able to work, and asked me if I would be interested in helping him out with some stuff at his house. Needing money with which to purchase food for myself and teh kittehs, I said sure. The first thing I did for him was replace some bad siding on the back of his house, and then I spent a couple of weeks clearing brush and poison ivy off a bank next to his house, to open up the view to part of the pasture.

That led to a complete renovation of a rental house that he was tired of dealing with and wanted to put on the market, and then we started a six month project to renovate the main floor and basement of the Woolworth Building to turn it into an art gallery - Woolworth Walk. As we neared completion of the renovation, he asked me - knowing of my past experience in retail management - if I would be interested in running the gallery for him, and made me a very good offer for pay. I accepted the job, and ran the place for almost a year, before the boredom set in.

As I mentioned in the afore-referenced post, Theatre is one of only two "careers" I've been involved in that haven't eventually bored the shit out of me. The idea of doing the same thing, day after day, for money is ... soul-killing to me. (NOTE: This has no bearing on my personal choices of doing the same thing, day after day, when I'm not working. Don't ask me why, cause I'm not really sure, but that's totally different. [although I suspect it has something to do with money]).

Anyhoo, I was getting more an more grumpy at work, despite the fact that the job had the best duties-to-pay ratio of any job I've ever had. Basically I had about a half hour of paperwork a day (and most of a day on the first of the month when sales for the individual artists - and gallery commissions - had to be figured) and dealing with the customers. The rest of the time I watched the scene on the street in front of the gallery unfold.

When I informed GentFarm of my desire to leave the job, he said that he was surprised that I lasted that long - that he wouldn't have been able to put up with it, either -
and that he hoped I would still continue working with him on other projects. I was fine with that, because doing carpentry and electrical and plumbing - working in The Trades, as it's known, is the only thing other than Theatre that has never bored me. (Which was why I had such high hopes for the Technical Director position in the failed theatre company I wrote about before). Even though you may go to the same job site everyday, the tasks for each day are always different.

I spent several months doing basically nothing, other than buying some power tools (chiefly a table saw and compound mitre saw) and building some display racks and pedestals for the gallery. This was not a problem, because due to my ... minimalist lifestyle, I had several thousand dollars in the bank when I left the job at the gallery. Finally, though, the "kitty" shrank down to next-to-nothing, and I called GentFarm to see what he had in mind for work. Which was just as he was ready to start a 1500+ sqft Master Bedroom Suite addition on his house. That project took almost a year to complete, and since then we've done several other, smaller, projects.

Sometimes he keeps me busy as can be, and sometimes ... not so much, but I always enjoy working with and for him, and I have been and am very thankful to him for both his friendship and, well, his money. :)

Big Bad Blog-meme

Via konagod.

The rules are that all the answers have to start with the same letter as does your first name.

1. What is your name? Bob
2. A four-letter word: back
3. A vehicle: buggy
4. A city:Bangor, ME
5. A boy's name: Bart
6. A girl's name: Beatrice
7. Alcoholic drink: beer
8. An occupation: bricklayer
9. Something you wear: bonnet (well, I don't wear one, but they are worn)
10. A celebrity: Barry Bostwick
11. A food: beans
12. Something found in a bathroom: bidet
13. Reason for being late: besieged (by work)
14. Something you shout: Bastige!
15. An animal: Baboon
16. A body part: butt

Like it? Have at it!

Don't Expect This to Become a Regular Thing

As you regular readers know, I like to post videos fairly often (some might say too often), such as the weekly Random Python on Thursday (which pidomon does on Tuesdays, and Ouyang Dan does on Mondays).

Well, thing is, for the last few weeks, I've hardly been able to watch any of them. Nine times out of ten, I get the "We're sorry, this video is no longer available" message - even though, through other sources, I know that they work. I've tried the (non)help(ful) at YouTube, to no avail.

So, a Question of the Day:

Do you have / have you had trouble with YouTube videos? And, if so, what did you do to eliminate said problem?

Happy Birthday, Pete!

Thanks to Quaker Dave, I know that today is Pete Seeger's birthday.

I think of this song whenever I drive by the new subdivisions that are being built at breakneck speed all over the place:

Yay!

From the Shortest Hiatus Department:

DCup said yesterday that she was closing up shop.

She has changed her mind.

And there was great rejoicing throughout the land.

Thursday Python & etc....

"Five -"

(three, sir)

"Three Questions!"