Ted Nugent is a nut job and a hypocrite.
Just thought you should know.
A visit from Captain Obvious
3
Author Archives: wellsdc
Drunken terrorist joggers, oh my!
I haven’t posted all week, partly because I’ve been really busy, partly because I’ve actually been in a good mood, and partly because my daily scan of the liberal pinko blogosphere hasn’t yielded much to raise my ire.
Until now.
I will take the liberty of posting the sordid tale in its entirety:
NEW HAVEN, Conn. — Two people who sprinkled flour in a parking lot to mark a trail for their offbeat running club inadvertently caused a bioterrorism scare and now face a felony charge.
The sprinkled powder forced hundreds to evacuate an IKEA furniture store Thursday.
New Haven ophthalmologist Daniel Salchow, 36, and his sister, Dorothee, 31, who is visiting from Hamburg, Germany, were both charged with first-degree breach of peace, a felony.
The siblings set off the scare while organizing a run for a local chapter of the Hash House Harriers, a worldwide group that bills itself as a “drinking club with a running problem.”
“Hares” are given the task of marking a trail to direct runners, throwing in some dead ends and forks as challenges. On Thursday, the Salchows decided to route runners through the massive IKEA parking lot.
Police fielded a call just before 5 p.m. that someone was sprinkling powder on the ground. The store was evacuated and remained closed the rest of the night. The incident prompted a massive response from police in New Haven and surrounding towns.
Daniel Salchow biked back to IKEA when he heard there was a problem and told officers the powder was just harmless flour, which he said he and his sister have sprinkled everywhere from New York to California without incident.
“Not in my wildest dreams did I ever anticipate anything like that,” he said.
Mayoral spokeswoman Jessica Mayorga said the city plans to seek restitution from the Salchows, who are due in court Sept. 14.
“You see powder connected by arrows and chalk, you never know,” she said. “It could be a terrorist, it could be something more serious. We’re thankful it wasn’t, but there were a lot of resources that went into figuring that out.”
Have we as a society become so fucking paranoid that the first thing you think of when you see “powder connected by arrows and chalk” is that it just must be terrorist-related? I’m willing to give the average terrorist the benefit of the doubt and presuppose that he would not want to draw lines on the ground directing everyone to his bioterror materials. Of course, I’m not a terrorist, so what the hell do I know?
I am also flummoxed by the comment “It could be a terrorist, it could be something more serious.” What, uh, exactly would be more serious than a terrorist???
Besides, if you’ve ever been to a Hasher party (which I have), you would know that they are generally far too drunk to be a danger to anyone in a GWOT sense.
I suppose we should thank Karl Rove and his ilk for making everyone so damned paranoid that I am afraid to use baking soda in my own fridge anymore for fear the maintenance guy will call Homeland Security on me.
Haiku to Celis
There is a backstory here. See below.
Since early spring, 2000.
Why are you still here?
Rancid, rancid beer.
Who will ever drink you now?
Stupid law students?
Your box is rotted,
Your brewery has closed down,
Yet still you live on.
Farewell, sweet Celis!
I fear I hardly knew your
Sweet, fruity flavor.
Backstory: In the spring of 2000, during my first year of law school, I attended an after party for the law school theater group, Assault & Flattery, at a house on Avenue G in Austin’s Hyde Park neighborhood (lovingly nicknamed “the G-Spot“). Our theater production was generously sponsored by Celis, the then-Austin-based brewery, which provided innumerable cases of its many varieties of beer for our drunken enjoyment. Among these varieties was Celis Raspberry, which to this day I can still honestly say I have never tasted.
Fast forward to the late summer of 2001. Thanks to good connections and just the right amount of popularity, the singular honor of living at the G-Spot has passed to me and a friend, who took occupancy in August of that year. We were astounded to discover that a single case of Celis Raspberry had survived not only the many Assault & Flattery and other G-Spot parties, but was in fact still sitting on the back porch, having endured two Texas summers and one winter. Needless to say, we left the case undisturbed in honor of the fact that, uh, it was there.
At some point, during a party hosted for idiotic drunken first-year students, somebody got a mind to actually drink some of the beers in the obviously-rotting-and-decaying cardboard box full of above-room-temperature beer. I only wish I could have seen what happened to that person.
We moved out of the G-Spot in August 2002, after the bar exam. I can only hope that the Celis case has found happiness somewhere. Here’s to you, my skunky pal.
Hmmm…does this mean someone can take out a mortgage on their implants?
I haven’t actually read this article about “plastic surgery loans,” so I don’t know all the details of the financing options. My question is this: if you default on the loan, can the bank repo your new breasts?
Seriously, think about it.
Hey, hey, Rudy G, you’re no firefighter, you’re a damn Yankee!
Okay, that was my lame attempt to come up with a protest cheer. This was after reading this bemusing piece on how Rudy G spent about twice as much time in the months after 9/11 attending and travelling to and from Yankees’ games instead of at ground zero, somewhat undercutting his claim that he was at ground zero more than almost anyone else. Like we needed any further proof that he’s a scrub.
I am a scientific atheist!
You scored as Scientific Atheist, These guys rule. I’m not one of them myself, although I play one online. They know the rules of debate, the Laws of Thermodynamics, and can explain evolution in fifty words or less. More concerned with how things ARE than how they should be, these are the people who will bring us into the future.
|
What kind of atheist are you?
created with QuizFarm.com
Mighty Orbots???
I somehow missed these gems of ’80s cartoon shows:
There really was a show called Dinosaucers. Somehow, history has mostly forgotten the show…can’t imagine why.
I actually remember M.A.S.K., a little bit.
Basically, though, it would appear that everything is a derivative of Battle of the Planets, Transformers, Gobots, and Speed Racer, or some combination thereof. I’m especially amazed they were able to attach a plot to Pole Position.
I’m leaving Jem out on purpose, by the way.
While we’re at it, enjoy some ’80s commercials as well:
Where do people get these from? VHS tapes generally don’t survive that long.
One final question: wouldn’t being hit by a giant piece of fruit provoke some reaction other than laughter? I guess I just don’t get Bonkers.
This one is just painful to watch…poor George.
T’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?
For no reason whatsoever, I now present the full lyrics to Finnegan’s Wake:
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, a gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an’ to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he’d a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, he’d a drop of the craythur every mornWhack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s WakeOne morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his headWhack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s WakeHis friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O’Brien began to cry, “Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?”, “Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGeeWhack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s WakeThen Maggie O’Connor took up the job, “Biddy” says she “you’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t’was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon beganWhack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s WakeMickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying “Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?”Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s WakeWhack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
Fashion Industry = American Politburo?
I started having this thought after watching Zoolander for about the 50th time recently about how undemocratic the “fashion” business is. By that, I mean the decision from on high to introduce new styles or bring certain styles back, presumably because it is the only way to ensure that people will spend a shitload of money every year on overpriced clothing. (NOTE: Aside from the handful of links above, I have done no research whatsoever into the economics of clothing. I just know that I never pay attention to what is “in” this “season.”) To me, it all seems very communist. Actually, I like the term “fashion fascist,” now that I think about it.
I typically buy all of my clothing at one of three locations, and don’t get rid of anything until it falls apart. I do occasionally spend a gift certificate somewhere more chi-chi, and it was during one of these trips that I had something of an epiphany: the saleswoman was trying to sell me an obscenely expensive argyle sweater. Given that it was 2007 and I am in my early 30’s, I asked why the hell would I consider spending $100 on a butt-ugly argyle sweater.
“Because argyle is back,” she said.
I pondered that for a moment, then calmly explained that, if argyle is indeed “back,” that means that it must have gone away at some point. That also means that it will go away again, and I will be out $100 for a sweater that I could only wear for one “season.” Screw that. To be fair to her, though, it really does seem to be back.
To give you an example of my thriftiness, I own three suits. Total. These suits were purchased in 1995, 1999, and 2001. They all still fit, and they are all still in prime condition (ironically, the newest one is showing the most signs of wear). Apparently, fashions have changed regarding cuffed pants legs or something like that, but I just figure anyone who spends enough time looking at my feet to develop an opinion about the stylishness of the part of the pants that might accidentally brush the ground is not someone I need to be overly concerned about, because they will eventually bump their head on something sharp and go into a coma and I won’t have to listen to their fashion tips anymore.
The reason I am posting this now is because I came across this while looking for something for Zeta:
Argyle is back and perfectly styled for your Yuppie Puppy. Dress your pup in the hottest trend!
I think that should be the sign that a trend has gotten too hot when it can be used in the same sentence as “Yuppie Puppy.” I think my dog would rip my throat out while I slept if I tried to turn her into a “Yuppie Puppy,” and I think I would let her do it if it had come to that.
Today’s global geography lesson
I have always been a fan of maps, but I must admit I haven’t spent as much time looking at them lately as I did when I was a kid. It recently occurred to me that I have a certain obligation, as an intelligent human and taxpaying American, to understand the geography of these countries we are occupying, because I’m not sure the folks in charge fully understand it. I’m happy to share a bit of what I have learned, although “what I have learned” mostly amounts to a broadened understanding of my own ignorance. Iraq’s geography includes tribes and ethnoreligious groups we rarely hear about on the news. Two maps particularly intrigued me:
—Iraq: Distribution of Ethnoreligious Groups and Major Tribes From Iraq: Country Profile [map], CIA, January 2003 (215K) and pdf format (216K)
—Iraq: Distribution of Religious Groups and Ethnic Groups from Map No. 503930 1978 (163K)
I had never heard of the Yazidi before this week, although they may have been the subject of an earlier post. I also had no idea the Mandaeans were still around. On the ethnic side of things, you have the Kurds, the Iranians, the Turkomen (not to be confused with Turks), the Assyrians, and so forth. That’s at least three different religions (four if you count Sunni and Shia separately, along with Yezidi and Madaeanism, not to mention random Jewish and Christian populations) and five languages (Arabic, Kurdish, Aramaic, Persian, and Turkic).
Afghanistan is even more fun (so to speak). I’m not even going to try to count all the provinces. The 11 ethnolinguistic groups listed on at least one map are also quite diverse: some Iranian language family, some Turkic, a little bit of “Other” thrown in.
Given how determined some people are to have a single official language here in the U.S., I kind of wonder if we can ever really understand the hodgepodge that is these two countries.
Man, that’s kind of depressing. I hope you were at least enlightened a little.