A Force to be Reckoned With!

Here is the collaboration between your humble Aardvark and the Goodman. Vidad was nowhere in evidence.

Enjoy, and if you need audio work done, holler.

From the He-Man She-Ra Christmas Special

How exactly does bone smile? Seems that the pain would cancel out the jollity.

Maybe Skeletor could lead us all in a round of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlefools".

That would be more Christmas-ey than Rudolph, Tiny Tim, and the "jinglehorse" from that song frapped in a blender. I'd add rum, and top it with whipped cream and fresh nutmeg.

"Skeletor" is (c) Filmation

Any questions?

Aardvark (sarcastically) " Oh, I know. Doing things for other people makes you happy...."

Riatsila: "No, making people OWE me makes me happy."

Tree by Denise Vakili, Carlsbad, California

http://www.denisevakili.blogspot.com

Mr. Quinn's Christmas Vision

Lawyer Terry Quinn holds forth about the $500,000 price tag on a parking place near the slopes in tony Vail Colorado:

Headline: Prime Vail parking space available for $500,000

This is like those Detroit big shots who came to D.C. recently, each in his own private jet, to ask for handouts. Or AIG, whose execs sojourned at a pricey spa while it was getting assigned a space at the federal trough.

There are wealthy people who are clueless — or indifferent — about the effect their extravagance has on others less fortunate.

It’s amazing how anyone could pay that kind of money for a parking space, so he doesn’t have to walk so far to get to the slopes. I presume it’s a super-size space, so a Hummer or stretch limo can fit in it.

Terry Quinn
Eagle

This rich guy is selling his own parking space at Vail. If the market will bear it, may he get his price. Mr. Quinn, Esq. is angered that anyone should enjoy such opulence where he can hear about it. Neal Boortz interviewed him today, and Quinn repeatedly grumped about the rich "flaunting" their wealth before those "less fortunate". Please correct me if you need, but it seems to me that merely having summat that another does not is not "flaunting". Were I to have a 24k gold Hummer, autographed by Arnold Schwarzenegger in platinum ink, with ruby and diamond appointed spinners, and were I to do wheelies in front of self-confessed middle-class Quinn's home as he shovels his walk, I believe that could qualify as "flaunting".

I think that I would quite enjoy it.

Mr Quinn is quite a font of error. The Big Auto guys were in corporate jets, NOT private. They are part of their contract. The hourly cost of these bigwigs is enormous, and one of the CEOs driving to DC would equal an enormous chunk of Mr. Quinn's middle-class yearly income. I do join his outrage at the AIG spa junket. He reveals his heart in this statement:

There are wealthy people who are clueless — or indifferent — about the effect their extravagance has on others less fortunate.

Well, clearly their extravagance is affecting Mr. Quinn in driving him toward extensive therapy, but for those of us a tad less quirky, it has little effect, except perhaps for those who manufacture the goods, and repair the goods, and sell the goods, and maintain the goods that the wealthy enjoy so ostentatiously. The money The Rich spend spreads across the economy, like so much Beluga caviar on toast points. The more slathered on the economy, the better.

Mr. Quinn, speaking with Boortz, expressed his solution clearly: you should not buy something that another cannot afford, which thought fills me with rage. I mean, I shop at Wal-Mart, which is grossly unfair to me, especially as there are many who shop at Target, and Macy's. But what about those privileged schlubs, forced to shop Tar-ZHAY when those across town habitually shop Nieman-Marcus? Thus we are led to Terry Quinn's Christmas Vision, a world where everyone shops at the Dollar Store. EVERYONE can afford that, yes?

The left loves to parade Homelessness and Hunger before our eyes at this merry time, not so much to encourage Charity, but to spread guilt and misery, those most Liberal of commodities. THEY cannot shop the Dollar Store, nor even the Thrift Shop, and those who can should not flaunt their extravagance before the eyes of the indigent.Clearly Terry Quinn's vision of equity must bring us to this point: a shoeless, soapless, jobless society where there is no-one above us to hire us, mentor us, give us something to shoot for, because some imbecile in kindergarten decided to teach Terry Quinn the concept of "fair".

Merry Christmas to all, and a squalid good night.

Let me say it, since apparently few recognise the facts:

There IS NO Office of the President-elect

Barack Hussein Obama IS NOT the President-elect. The electoral college has neither met nor voted. The "popular vote" is meaningless.

Obama's little blue sign on his lectern reminds me of nothing more than an eight-year-old coming up with a little club with his friends. The He-man Republic-haters Club.

His "President-elect'" self-promotion reminds me of the preachers who put a picture of themselves on billboards advertising their churches.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Aardvark is thankful for a number of things which he shall enumerate in part:

• Thankful that the Dread Dormomoo does not say "mani-pedi".
• Thankful that his family remains remarkably intact for the era.
• Thankful that he is not allergic to turkey.
• Thankful that people like our work.
• Thankful to live in a loving community of faith.
• Thankful for Breathe-Right strips.
• Thankful for all his many reader.
• Thankful for the Nation, tho' the Ship of State appears to founder.
• Thankful for a place for /b/tards to go.
• Thankful for Vox and the Ilk.
• Thankful to not have giblet gravy.
• Thankful having infinitives to split.
  
• Thankful for the IntarWebs.
• Thankful that few have used the term "Turkey Day" in his presence.
• Thankful for you

Have a blessed Thanksgiving

Boortz is fulminating about this:

The Associated Press

Published: November 25, 2008

Florida Gulf Coast University Bans Yule Decorations

FORT MYERS - Employees at Florida Gulf Coast University are protesting a campus ban on Christmas decorations in common spaces.

The Staff Advisory Council voted on Monday to send university leaders a letter explaining employees' concerns. The university administration has said employees can decorate their desks but not common areas. It also canceled a greeting card design contest and renamed a giving tree for needy preschoolers a "giving garden."

In a memo to faculty and staff last week, President Wilson Bradshaw said public institutions "often struggle with how best to observe the season in ways that honor and respect all traditions.

Precisely the enlightened response to the holidays I would expect from a President of Higher Learning. NOTE: They are not banning ALL displays, "just" the public ones. The irony of the warfare being waged over the birth of the Prince of Peace is not lost on your Aardvark.

The Dread Dormomoo naturally comes at this from an off-beat tangent. She is curious as to the national celebrations of other countries, religious and secular. The question she raises disturbs me. When a nation tries to quash public displays of a religious festival, but celebrates holidays of death ( annual remembrances of the OK City bombings, the World Trade Center attack, the Pentagon attack....) what does it say about that country.

What does it say about us?

Denny Crane!

Your Aardvark feels the gnawing of the economic wolves at his hindquarters. This is not to say that they are about to repossess the baby's shoes, neither is foreclosure in the forecast. For some months I have apparently been whistling in the dark as to the state of our economy. Our anime convention sales are in the tank. we have two cons this weekend, one in Orlando, and one in Massachusetts. They have reeked. The Orlando show is the melding of two FL cons, one of which is a comic convention. I really should have nixed it because historically comic shows are the kiss of Death for us. The MA show has done little better (up to the reports I had last night.

John McCain said that the fundamentals of our economy are sound. As far as the words he used, the statement is correct. The UNSOUNDNESS lies in the pee-pul, exacerbated by the opinionated newsreaders they listen to, and the representatives they vote in.. Seizing upon the smallest downturn, the newsies flog it into a prophecy ot impending Depressions and global-warming induced Dust Bowls.

Where is Henry Fonda when we need him?

The ardent listeners hear the prophetic utterance, and fearfully strive to fulfil it. "Can't spend...I might lose my JOB." Fear begets its object. If we don't spend, then others will lose their jobs. Then, they can't buy from you, which means you may get downsized.

This is what would happen if everybody did.

Dave Ramseyites, I am not talking about credit-carding the nation into prosperity. Congress, and Helicopter Ben Bernanke have proven the lie in that remedy, though they do not seem to recognise it. "Let's print and spend more...HARDER!" I am saying that where one is able, one should behave rationally. Buy three presents instead of five. Eat at home rather than out, as much. But eat, and gift, and take some joy from your toil. Our household is budgeting Christmas strictly, but we are not Scrooge-ing.

Proverbs 10:24, "The fear of the wicked, it shall come upon him: but the desire of the righteous shall be granted."

Proverbs 29:25, "The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe."

Job 3:25, "For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me."

Fear is running our economy, and it is touching many people. Economies are essentially barter with an added step. If I buy something from you, then you can buy from me. If either of us fails, it upsets the ecomomy. Low sales = ultimate layoffs. The economy is not that bad, yet. If we behave like it is bad, then it surely will be.

Don't over-extend yourself. Don't over-spend, but do NOT succumb to fear. Keep saving, buy silver and gold when you can. Be thankful, do not fear.

On Life Day and Other Sorrows.

I was speaking with the Dread Dormomoo of the ungrateful reaction Some have had to my heartfelt (or maybe it is just reflux) Holiday offering. She has not seen the Star Wars Holiday Special, and I have not shown it to her, as I live under the same roof with herself (though I AM certain that our marriage could take it, with a year-or-two of counseling. After all, I took her to see Laserblast a few months after we were married...)

The DD, upon hearing the list of actors who appeared in the Holiday Special commented
upon them as "lemmings jumping the shark".

She REALLY should blog, you know.

On the original point, it is fascinating to me that I have never heard a solitary soul admit to LIKING the SWHS. It could be a real tool for peace. Sec'y of State Rodham declares to the whole Mid-east" You people get along together, or we will SO make you watch the Star Wars Holiday Special .".

I'm quite surprised that Reagan didn't use the tactic, though that could be why the Iranian hostage situation ended when he was sworn into office. I suspect that they play it at GITMO. Makes the detainees beg for waterboarding.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

I just got in the spirit of the thing.

Here's why....

Also THIS.

(Please don't hurt me.)

I am watching A&E's "Andromeda Strain". What a sorry remembrance of the work of Michael Crichton.

AMC is doing a remake / reboot of Patrick McGoohan's seminal work "The Prisoner",
with Jim Caviezel as No.6, and Sir Ian McKellen as No.2. Not real happy at the prospect.

I wish to share a joy with all my Reader.

I present: the incomparable Robert Benchley:

THIS CHILD KNOWS THE ANSWER—DO YOU?

We are occasionally confronted in the advertisements by the picture of an offensively bright-looking little boy, fairly popping with information, who, it is claimed in the text, knows all the inside dope on why fog forms in beads on a woolen coat, how long it would take to crawl to the moon on your hands and knees, and what makes oysters so quiet.

The taunting catch-line of the advertisement is: "This Child Knows the Answer—Do You?" and the idea is to shame you into buying a set of books containing answers to all the questions in the world except the question "Where is the money coming from to buy the books?"

Any little boy knowing all these facts would unquestionably be an asset in a business which specialized in fog-beads or lunar transportation novelties, but he would be awful to have about the house.

"Spencer," you might say to him, "where are Daddy's slippers?" To which he would undoubtedly ]answer: "I don't know, Dad," (disagreeable little boys like that always call their fathers "Dad" and stand with their feet wide apart and their hands in their pockets like girls playing boys' rôles on the stage) "but I do know this, that all the Nordic peoples are predisposed to astigmatism because of the glare of the sun on the snow, and that, furthermore, if you were to place a common ordinary marble in a glass of luke-warm cider there would be a precipitation which, on pouring off the cider, would be found to be what we know as parsley, just plain parsley which Cook uses every night in preparing our dinner."

With little ones like this around the house, a new version of "The Children's Hour" will have to be arranged, and it might as well be done now and got over with.

The Well-Informed Children's Hour

Between the dark and the day-light,

When the night is beginning lo lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupation

Which is known as the children's hour.

'Tis then appears tiny Irving

With the patter of little feet,

To tell us that worms become dizzy

At a slight application of heat.

And Norma, the baby savant,

Comes toddling up with the news

That a valvular catch in the larynx

Is the reason why Kitty mews.

"Oh Grandpa," cries lovable Lester,

"Jack Frost has surprised us again,

By condensing in crystal formation

The vapor which clings to the pane!"

Then Roger and Lispinard Junior

Race pantingly down through the hall

To be first with the hot information

That bees shed their coats in the Fall.

No longer they clamor for stories

As they cluster in fun 'round my knee

But each little darling is bursting

With a story that he must tell me,

Giving reasons why daisies are sexless

And what makes the turtle so dour;

So it goes through the horrible gloaming

Of the Well-informed Children's Hour.

--Love Conquers All, by Robert C. Benchley

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The REAL "Children's Hour" poem is by Longfellow:

There is also a Librivox audio release of "Love Conquers All". Enjoy!

io9 has a picture of the new old Enterprise from J.J. Abrams' prequel due out next May.

Meh. The nacelles look like Dollar Store ray guns. The Engineering hull shows where the Enterprise-D designers went wrong.

Otherwise it's pretty cool, I guess. I'll see the movie. It's Trek. I've gotta see Kirk cry.

GROUNDED

This is the SUPERCAR episode which also marked the debut of the characters of Harper and Judd: a pair of villains who were, sadly enough, used too little. When one considers the knockabout clown antics of Masterspy and Zarin, Harper and Judd must have sometimes seemed like a breath of fresh air. Especially with Harper, who was perhaps consciously designed to possess a cool, reptilian demeanor

.
It's good to see the years have been kind to Harper, though the type-casting is regrettable.

OK, I have summat to say. I had better not hear a single numbskull utter the syllables of "America is a RA-cist nation" ever again. It will NOT be pretty.

What's funny is that most of the race-whiners are white, and belong to the party that supported slavery.

On the other hand, Abraham Lincoln was a Republican.

Remember the Dixiecrats? The "crat" is an important syllable.

Just sayin'.

Well, all I can say is, maybe "Rev." Wright was right.

Happy New Regime.

Fear and Loathing in North Alabamastan.


I am in the midst of a Long, Dark Night of the Soul. I have written precious little about the political end of things, but I have serious fears for our Republic. Now, I recognise that it sounds like I'm late to the party, there, but I have tried to maintain some optimism about the country. It is increasingly hard so to do. I was in school when the Pledge of Allegiance was important, when the thought of defiling a flag was abhorrent to any but the most politically perverted. (Now Billy Mays mends a ripped flag with his Wonder Fabric Glue, and hawks his product with the fixed flag fluttering in a wind tunnel affair. Remember when you were to burn a flag if it touched the ground or became damaged or worn out?) I was on the tail end of the "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington"-style patriotism, before the cynical '60s took their toll. I was a Goldwater fan during the LBJ candidacy, in the fourth grade. I remember huddling in the school halls during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The 4-H TV Action Club was on ETV, and we learned about fallout. Yaaaay! Mr. Atom is our Friend!

Despite the misbehavior of politicos from time-to-time, there still seemed to be a modicum of honor, a gravity to the realm of Public Office. Now it appears it's all a game. Maybe it always was, but the stagecraft was certainly handled better. I voted today. I don't know if it means anything, but I did. The Republic is safe once again.

I am REALLY fascinated at the pundits and talk mavens, even the hard-core ones like Cunningham and Savage, who cannot seem to cross the divide and recognise the Power of Positive No. I mean, if the Obamanoids, Pelosites, and Reidians have their way, talk radio as currently formatted is toast. Dry toast. Therefore, it's not like they will have anything to lose by telling the populace: When they come for your guns, when they come for yet more your money, when they come for your livelihood, when they come for your children to indoctrinate them against what you taught them, when they come for your preacher because he dared speak truth, or your elders for refusing to bow the knee to Caesar, When they come, SAY NO ! No more. No representation, no more goodies.

Why is this such a hard thought to wrap your brains around? Wait...I hear "Romans 13" twittering in the breeze. I don't have a king here in the YouEssofAy. At least in theory, the PEE-pul are the government, so exegete that for me.
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As the day progresses, I find myself falling into a deeper funk. It is as though all hope is lost...no matter WHO wins. These things are important, and so few can see beyond class warfare. YEAH! Stick it to the Corporate Fat Cats!! Raise those corporate taxes!
(Then wait until prices on Doritos, Barbies and WWE DVDs go up at Wal-Mart.) Corporations don't pay the taxes (beyond writing a check). The consumer does, through higher prices. The corporation, not being a Charity, passes the tax increase on in to YOU. Why can't people turn off American Idol and Alabama football and bloody THINK??!?

Oh, and I started the second round of shots on Tuesday last. Hmmmm....

Do I hear the haunting strains of "If My People"? 2 Chronicles 7:14 is lovely, and utterly Old Covenant. If you drag that out, you may as well rebuild the temple and start hunting for a Red Heifer.

Sorry guys. If this is the real me, then maybe I'm not as loveable as I might wish.

To quote Marvin the Paranoid Android:"I'm so-o-o-o depressed."
Good thing I'm not emo, or I would need a transfusion by now.

My already tenuous grasp on reality is slipping. Things that are just-this-side of Eternal Verities are being shaken. I mean, come on ... The SciFi channel, which I got cable years back precisely in order to see, is now full of non-science fiction, like ghost-hunting shows, with nary a meddling kid in sight. It is painful to see grownups scaring themselves like twelve-year-olds on a campout. There is so much paranormal stuff on, that SciFi is making noises about changing its name to "Beyond". Oooooooooh. Beyond. And speaking of meddling kids, Cartoon Network, who brought us Dexter's Laboratory, Cow and Chicken, and PowerPuff Girls is now filling its schedule with decidedly non-cartoon movies. As questionable as it may be to some minds, CN brought anime to the fore here in the US, and some really excellent stuff, too, like Cowboy Bebop, and the two Ghost in the Shell series. Of course they also gave us Milk Chan, the less said about, the better.
Cartoon Network showing not-cartoons. Next they'll be showing WWE Wrestling on Lifetime.
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If racism is defined thusly: "1 : a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race" (Merriam-Webster)+, and many blacks - and their pet white academics "... argue that they can't possibly be racist by definition", what precisely are they saying about themselves?

I'm bettin' someone hasn't quite thought it all through. Maybe someone needs new PR people.
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On an amusingly congruent note, we shopped at a German grocery store last weekend.
ALDI is an interesting store concept, one basic store brand of anything (but actually produced by the name-brand factories, so you get the quality, not the higher price.)
They also carry a few specialty items, special purchases, and fresh produce. We got a cart of groceries for $45.00. Milk is more than a dollar cheaper than anywhere else.
You put a quarter in a slot to unlock your cart, and you begin your shopping. You do NOT have forty-seven different brands of ketchup, just one good brand, reasonably priced. Ditto cereals, cookies canned veg, pet foods...you name it. There are special buys, too: This month, there is a $700 PC, a wooden breakfast nook kit, a $200 gasoline-powered generator. You can purchase your family's groceries for considerably less than even Wal-Mart. You bag your own groceries (bring your own bags, or pay a minimal price for ALDI bags (they refuse to hide the cost of bags in the grocery price). Take your groceries to the car, return the cart its parking area, insert the chain lock- rather like the tongue on a seatbelt- into the slot, and your quarter pops out. Check the locator on the ALDI website, and go to a local one. The food is good quality, and good-tasting.

He makes me afraid. VERY afraid.

Wasn't he in the original "V"?

First, the obligatory disclaimer: I am not a racist. I try my very best to appraise a person by their character rather than lack of, or abundance of, melanin. From a yout' I was aware of racial differences, and sussed out that the "n" word was A Bad Thing. I find the concepts of racism and bigotry to be abhorrent in the extreme. That the Son of God died for all races is a powerful argument against letting red yellow black or white be anything but window-dressing. I am making cultural observations, here.

Watching the Presidential campaign, I cannot see how many people won't wind up as racists. The in-your-face race-card playing of the Obamanites and Acornoids is breath-taking, and the tacit attitude of "if you disagree with Barack Hussein Obama, then it is because you hate black people" is hard to take. The Book of Proverbs teaches that if you want friends, you should be friendly. Honey vs. vinegar. The melanin-rich are not the sole holders of the attitude. James Carville makes noise about the possibility of...unrest:

But you stop and contemplate this country if Obama goes in and he has a consistent five point lead and loses the election, it would be very, very, very dramatic out there.

My personal worry is this: the danger here is the issue of self-fulfilling prophecy. If you behave as though everyone is a racist, then people might get sick of being judged for what they are not, and say Perdition take it! The rule of (an unredeemed) thumb is "bite if you're bitten". If even tolerant folks get bitten enough, they will nip back.

Just call me James Carville. Or call me a cab.

Hello, Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea…

I am reporting from Parts Unknown. Part of our public presentation involves each member of our sales team wearing a different color of camo. The Dread Dormomoo wears lime green; I wear purple. “Where would you hide wearing that?” the mundanes query. I fix them with my most reasonable face and tell them “Why, the Welch’s grape vineyards, of course.”.

I was waiting for the chef to prepare my pancakes at the Marriott buffet -no silver dollars, here; these were old-school hotel plate-sized pancakes- when this grandmotherly sort asked the camo question. I explained, and as I enlightened her, a little birdlike lady, probably sixty-or-so (I would say "ma'am" to her), flanked me and said “Well I think they look sexy….”

What can I say, beyond “Why don’t the twenty-somethings say that?”.

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Just saw a shirt with a picture of Roosevelt which proclaims “FDR is dead.”.

Good.

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I am at Classic Movie Monstercon in Kingsport, TN. I had to forego another area con to help out with this one. Sara Karloff is a featured guest, being Boris’ daughter. Inherited celebrity has always been odd to me, I suppose in the same way that leftists grump about trust-fund kids. Reminds me of Penn Jillette’s appropriate grumpery over magician who spent weeks inside a room built of ice. “He’s famous for being NEXT to ice.”.

Sara is a sweet lady, and her celebrating her father’s talent is a good thing. Keeping the torches lit, I reckon. And the pitchforks sharpened.

Donnie Dunagan, the Son of Frankenstein, is here. He was also the facial model for “Bambi” in the original Disney film. Felix Silla, the guy inside the Twiki suit in the Buck Rogers. If a small person was needed in a role, Mr. Silla fills the bill, as well as the latex suit. He was the hang-gliding Ewok in Return of the Jedi. He was even in the original Star Trek pilot “Menagerie”. He is a nice guy, who has earned his cadre of fans.

The con organizer, Bill Millhorn, had only spoken to me by phone, and was surprised to meet me. He thought I was 25. Ah, the reedy tenor strikes again. He is a hefty man who moves like a force of nature through the room.. He and his friends have pulled together a neat concept convention for fans of the classic midnight horror-show monsters. Tim Herron, a horror host and actor for thirty years, is portraying Frankenstein’s creature for a panel. He does a spot-on Karloff.

I am drafting on other people's nostalgia, here. My neck of the woods did not have the Saturday midnight horror shows (and I likely would not have been allowed to see 'em if they existed). The classic Universal monster movies, as well as the plethora of B-pictures on telly were great fun. (My earliest TV memories were "It Came From Beneath the Sea", as well as "The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T"...and, of course "Supercar"!). I never had the Ashley Ghastly or Zacherly experience, sad to say. No celebrations of hair-raising chiller thrillers.

Something that amazes me is the plethora of mediocre artists who attain a level of notoriety and fandom at media conventions. I mean really mediocre. I guess if you can draw nipples, then you can get fans

Sigh.

One of the preacherly sins I see is taking a small and mildly obscure passage and bloviating it into a forty-five minute endurance run.

Luke 12:16-21, "And he spoke a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully: And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But God said unto him, You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you: then whose shall those things be, which you have provided? So is he that lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."

The above story (when Jesus said "a certain...", He was referring to a person known to the hearer. This is not a parable.) is short and to the point. Jesus did not wave his arms and sonorously intone "O, what a doofus!". He said what He had to say and got on with it. I heard a Radio Preacher wallow in these verses for half-an-hour this morning I really think that most preachers miss the main point.

I have no room where to bestow my fruits? And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater...

Why did he not just build an annex? Why not another storage bin? NO, his plan was to pull down his existing storage and build bigger. What was to become of his currently stored stuff?

I believe that this story teaches a visceral truth.

Stupidity is a major sin, and its cost is dire.

Here endeth the lesson.



(Money Bin image copyright Disney)

Brother, can you spare a billion?


The Senate has passed the reprehensible Wall Street Panhandlers bill, despite the people's ninety-plus percent calls, emails and letters saying "NO!".

McCain spoke of the NEED for such an unpopular move.

Such bravery.

The people must be brave as well, just as the Founders were brave in crying "No taxation without representation!". The Senate has proven that they no longer represent the people.

It is time to be brave.

I stand in awe of the utter chutzpah of Congress AND the Wall Street gang in perpetrating the armed robbery of the American citizenry. I stand taking great offense at Obama referring to the backbone of our republic as merely "the taxpayers". That is all we are to him and his ilk: varied sizes of wallets to plunder so that they may do Great Things in the Name of the Pee-pul. (I am offended at Bush and HIS ilk for treating us equivalently.)

I stand in shock that the pee-pul of our land have not stood and said NO MORE! The government assumes that we will accept things as usual, and keep mortgaging our kids and their kids out of fear of reprisal. It has been said elsewhen, but they can't arrest everyone.

I think I'll sit, now.

Here we are, the Riatsila and I, in Huntington WV at TsubasaCon. This is a neat little relaxacon (old-school SF conspeak). Lord Zed is here from the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers: Robert Axelrod. He is small, stooped and bearded, but still enthusistic to his fans.

We printed the con shirts as well as being dealers (such a soulless word; I'm a huckster!). The Big Sandy Convention venue is a perfectly-sized facility for Tsubasa. The Holiday Inn is next-door, and a better one I have never seen before. Clean is the operative word, so clean that there is a hospital note to the air in the halls. The cleaning staff actually wear scrubs. The rooms are equipped with a large mini-fridge (yes, and I also like jumbo shrimp), and a computer! A real usable computer hooked up to the IntarWebs...well, maybe I shouldn't say computer. It is after all a Gateway.


We breakfasted at Bob Evans this morning. It is like a Cracker Barrel without the cool (pauses a beat) and is decorated with country craft things. The cow sculptures looked at me the whole time. The mean age of the customers must be 83, and that's only because someone took a baby in once. It was geezerville in there. I expected to hear complaints about the oatmeal being too tough.

Nice place, though. The food is good.

Huntington is fun burg, with a great mixture of architectural styles. I'll try to put up some photos.

I have ONE issue with the convention center: when a salesmen offers you a GREAT DEAL on dysentery-scented bathroom deodoriser

DON"T TAKE IT !!!!!!!

Uncanny, yes?

I will make you happy. If you remember this mid-90's turn-based strategy game, to quote Prof. Farnsworth: "Good news, everyone...".

I went to Abandonia to see if there was a better download of the game. (I have the original, but alas, I have no 3.5" floppy drive anymore. Previous downloads have been hinky, at best. Compatibility with Winders XP is a problem, with adequate gameplay, but quirky sound, and no music.) There was a notice that they had taken the game down because...because...

Goodbye, X-Com!

As of yesterday, the entire X-Com series is available for purchase through Steam, including the spin-offs X-COM: Interceptor and X-COM: Enforcer. The price is $5 per game or $15 for all five together.

As such, we have removed the downloads of UFO: enemy Unknown and X-Com: Apocalypse. :(

YAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!

Steam deals with all run issues, as it is the environment in which the games run. It isn't just for Half-life anymore.

I may be quiet for awhile!

I'm watching FRINGE. It kind of hearkens back to the crazy days of the X-Files. One thing...

Do those establishing shots with the location names in BIG floating chrome letters annoy you, too? I understand the need not to look like the aforementioned X-files with its little green teletype captioning, but come ON !
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I am not sticking my head in the sand, nor the donkey's mouth, nor the oliphaunt's bum.

I am terminally sick of the "Grea-a-a-a-at Depression" talk. There are major adjustments being made on Wall Street, and unConstitutional bailouts (when Shepherd Smith intoned that we have "nationalised AIG" I thought I would have the vapors. Then again, he's dreamy - household meme...sorry.). The US is not teetering on the monetary brink, unless...

The MSM revels in any downturn, and gleefully flogs it into a CRISIS ! Many of our economic woes stem from the populist panic induced by the gloom-sayers on ABCCBSNBC News, The Dread Dormomoo coined a term:

Optinomics. Maybe reporting on the good things in the economy. There are some.
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The 4-chan / anonymous prank hacking Sarah Palin's personal email is pure dastardy. A lowest-common-denominator pop-culture internet meme generator, 4-chan revels in the obtuse. I recommend prosecution. The puppy needs its nose rubbed in its mess.

Oh, and for the media having the vapors over Palin's personal email having some official biz mixed in: nothing nefarious here...move along. I have a business email address. I also have a personal email address. Sometimes I do business on my personal email, not because I am hiding correspondence from future sub poenas, but because IT HAPPENS. Someone asks a question in a personal email, and I hit "reply".

ZOMG!!!! How unethical.

I am really worried that our political system has slipped irredeemably into mere dirty tricks and ad hominem attacks, becoming a tennis match with poop instead of tennis balls, high in fiber, but not much else.

In short,what this country needs is an enema.

Canada needs one, too. (Warning:an unpleasant woman saying unpleasant things disguised as journalism)

The Original Cyberpunk

has an amusing experiment going here. Unbeknownst to me, it is an invite only. When I read the entries, I had a story spring fully formed, as from Zeus' brow. Vidad interceded, and it was put up.

I crashed the party here.

Be sure to read the other pieces first.

I wonder at the (self?) deceptive nature of politics. The Obamanites making accusations and excuses which are...questionable to any onlooker; the McCainoids shooting back, though with apparently more candor, at least as far as the Veep is concerned. (I say this as one dissatisfied with both candidates.) I recognise the foofooraw over Sarah Palin as a backhaded compliment to her. Barry-O and his posse are afraid that Hanoi John has made an astute tactical move in his choice of VP running-mate. I wonder especially at the Left's ability to speak lies, looking you in the eyes at high noon, and apparently all the while believing them as well.

Shortly after I got married, back when marriage licenses were carven on rocks, I was hired to do product photography for a small North Carolina variety store chain. One of my first tasks was to photograph a stack of washcloths. Thrilling. I folded them in quarters, and took the shot. My boss, Charlie S***s, took me back to the studio, and showed me How It Is Done.He proceeded to put two of the cloths together, fold them into quarters, arrange them so the fold faced the lens, stacked more of the same, then took the shot. Quite a difference. He caught the vibe of my ethical quandary, and then said "We're not trying to fool anyone. We just want them to look as good as they really are. Thick and thirsty." Here I learned a cardinal rule of photography: Terry cloth loses fifty percent of it's apparent weight when photographed. Shame that doesn't work for people.

I also learned that Niven and Pournelle's Inferno gave an apt asessment of the fate of ad men in Hell. They stand in piles of dung, excreted by themselves. Instead of mouths, they have a second anus. A cursory viewing of AMC's Mad Men will show the utter justice of this image. Likewise a perusal of punditry in the US.

I didn't last long in the job.

A friend of mine several years ago was pushing me to run for the State House. His strategery was of concern to me. He insisted that I should run as a Democrat, because that would be the only way to get elected in our State. That way I could Work for Change from the inside.

I opted out. Didn't much care for the idea of the alien probing my family and I would have to endure at the hands of the newsies, either. Hmmm...I may have more candidates for the ad-men's fate.

Lies upon lies, and the pols believe that we will swallow them like a tasty treat. Sadly, too often we do.

The Dread Dormomoo and I took a couple of days off, and lo, the Earth did NOT spin off its axis, nor are dogs marrying cats, except maybe in old musical cartoons. It only took thirty years, and now I'm hooked. We left Thursday afternoon, met with Vidad, Rachel, and their younglings at Fuji outside Nashville. Sushi was the order of the evening, and we all had a good time. As I have become accustomed to driving late and long on the way to convention gigs, I opted to push on to our destination, Chattanooga, where we found lodgings at the La Quinta. We have stayed at far worse places. The loathesome practice of motels allowing pets in-room makes me nervous about anyplace anymore, but LQ is a clean and neat place, this one newly renovated. We awoke Friday morning, and breakfasted at the City Cafe Diner downtown. Their food is wonderful, and is also far better than their website.

Sated, we drove to the Tennessee Aquarium, where we spent at least six hours wishing we had brought a rice cooker. The DD has been to the Aquarium more than once before, on homeschool junkets, but it was my first experience there. I cannot recommend it more highly. It is fun, pretty, breathtaking, informative, and other adjectives I am too tired to access.I got to pet a shark, as well as a stingray. There was one ray that would come up the side of the tank, partway out of the water to be petted. It acted like a cat! The shark felt rough and peculiarly dry to the touch. The rays were smooth, almost slick, but not slimy. Really neat creatures. The Tennessee River Aquarium follows the habitats and creatures from the headwater streams down to the Gulf. I was in awe of the engineering required to duplicate those environments indoors. They did an outstanding job. I will leave the Aquarium website to tout itself, but allow me to encourage you all to GO. There are even year passes to the entire museum system - even family passes. You can get a major discount, and the chance to enjoy super-cool and groovy learnification at many and varied museums. (Ha! The spell checker couldn't even handle "learnification"!)

Speaking of coinages, on the way home on I-565 in Huntsville, we saw a highway sign pointing to the "Agribition". What is that, farmers Being Uppity in public? That is worse than the '50s elementary school portmanteau word "cafetorium".

Downtown Chattanooga has a circuit of electric buses that go from the Aquarium area to the Chattanooga Choo-Choo and points between. And it is a free ride (though they do have a donation box by the exit. It's just good form to donate. You're saving the Earth, you know.

Saturday, we got up, and opted to go to Lake Winnepesauka, a MOST excellent family amusement park dating from the 1930s (View their website with Winders Explorer). It is a smaller, more laid-back park than the big names like Six Flags and Busch Gardens, and as such, is far more attractive to the likes of us. It is fully outfitted with higher-tech rides, but it also has a full complement of older rides, including a couple of truly unusual ones. The Fly-o-Plane pictured above dates from the 1940s, and is built like a battleship. The operator, who had all his teeth -this is not a "carnie" operation- told us that it was originally built for the Air Corps as a trainer. You can control altitude, and move the wings with the stick, and you can roll 360 degrees by shifting your weight. Most riders wind up upside-down for most of the ride. The planes are classic in their styling, but also have a little Flash Gordon action, with a cluster of rocket tubes in the tail. After Dubya-Dubya-Eye-Eye, the trainers were released and converted to amusement park rides. This is the only one running here in the States.

The Boat Chute was, well...let the site tell you:

The Boat Chute was designed and constructed by the founder of Lake Winnepesaukah, Carl O. Dixon. Built during the winter of 1926-1927, it was the first ride in the park and remains one of the most popular rides today. The Boat Chute is the oldest mill chute water ride in the United States according to the National Amusement Park Historical Association. No matter its age, a thrilling splash into the cool waters below awaits all guests!

It is a very long, dark tunnel (hmmmm, I wonder why it is so popular...) through which up to six people can ride in a boat. You can cuddle REAL close. So I'm told. We were in the front seat, as I observed it to be the safest. We bumped our way slowly through the very dark tunnel, and I shrieked "There's something moving in the floorboards!" to the amusement of all. We rounded a 180 degree turn, and saw the light at the end of the tunnel. We also saw a chain-driven hill, which pulled the boat up, and up, and over into a long free-fall hill which levels off at the lake surface and SPLASSSSSHHHH! We went through a fountain of feathered spray of our own making, funnily drenching us all. Except me. I got a little damp. Heh. It is a really great ride, slow, cool on a hot day, and crazy wet at the end.

I am not an amusement park freak, saving my pocket-change 'til I can afford the Next Big Coaster trip. I AM, however, sold on Lake Winnie! There are even places where the little ones can play without tickets!!!

Then we came home.

We DID succumb to curiosity, and stopped by WORLD FAMOUS UNCLAIMED BAGGAGE
in Scottsboro, AL, where we watched people buy other people's clothing. It is a colossal waste of time, because collectors and flea market and fleaBay geezers show up first thing in the morning and buy up the primo stuff.

OH! A commercial Word for Eidson Restaurant. It is the classic "Friday night out, after church on Sunday" restaurant. Excellent food, comfortable surroundings, swell tea, and cloth napkins, too. I had a Reuben sandwich with crisp shoestring fries, and the DD had broiled red snapper with green beans and marshmallow yams (which had a hint of orange in the flavor). The sweetened iced tea is endless, and not too sweet When you visit Chattanooga, check out Eidson. You will NOT be disappointed. It is the sort of restaurant you make excuses to be able to go to.

The DD and your Aardvark had a wonderful time away, and found that we can stand each other when no-one else is around. This is an important skill when the kids are growing up and going away.

Just under two million souls were moved out of New Orleans to Points More Safe in a couple of days.

Hmmmmm....

In less than ten days, all the Illegal, undocumented workers could be merrily on their way home.

Just sayin'. And I didn't even have to bring up Germany.

It piques my curiosity whether-or-not the Left Blog-o-Versetm, those champions of one's sexual right to do anything with anyone, anytime, anywhere, will cut Susan Palin and her daughter some slack regarding Miss Palin's unmarried preggerosity.

Isn't it cute when I exhibit naive optimism?

Your Aardvark is suffering from the predations of time, and he is learning to deal. The predilection of oldsters - and no, he does not think of himself in those terms - to long for "the good old days" is beginning to be understandable. Things that evoke fond memories are becoming more important. Old-school TV shows like Supercar are neat, and hearken back to more pleasant days, at least in memory; remembrance casts the past in a roseate glow that causes him to recall even the Cuban Missile Crisis with wistfulness.

Ahhhhh, the Cold War...good times.

Scent is a powerfully evocative agent. The Aardvark now eschews the sprays and scents proffered by the corporate media machines, body sprays that cause the wearer to smell like Bargain Night at a joy house*: Axe, Tag, and other such brands easily pronounced by the public schooled. He finds himself drawn to the classics: bay rum, Old Spice (that despite Hannibal Lecter's disparaging comments), and a new-old cologne called "Cigar" which the Aardvark heartily recommends, even though it is French, as it conjures tweeds and fragrant smoke, and Substance.

Your Aardvark still cannot bring himself to Moisturise...much.
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He is currently working on a roadside ad campaign for a local deli (yes, a deli , one with meats and cheeses sliced whilst you wait, which sells a Philly Cheese Steak as good as one can find south of PA. NOT the self-styled gas-station sandwich counters that sell a baloney, mayo and American cheese on white and call themselves a "deli". Oy.

The signs will be done in the spirit of the venerable Burma Shave campaign. Pics to come.

* A line graciously lifted from Keith Laumer's Retief story "The Brass God". The Aardvark read this in the '70s, and found the phrasing to be the most evocative description of loathsome overdone perfumery ever penned.

Here is an excerpt of an email I received from a convention that we have a good history with:

Is there an option to have shirts that are made of organic cotton or hemp? If so, how much more do they run?

Also, we are asking everyone involved with K**********n on any level to please provide us with information on what resources were used. We are trying to track everything as best as we can, so that afterwards we may offset the impact of our convention with the purchase of carbon credits. No other convention (that we know of) is following any environmental standard, and as responsible members of our community, being carbon neutral (or carbon negative) is what we're striving for. Hopefully through our actions, we can influence other conventions in our area to follow suit.

I am shocked at how this Ponzi-esque scheme of environmental indulgences designed to increase the Green in Al Gore and cronies' portfolios has impinged on my life and business. I may well have lost this convention with my response, but one must have principles:

As to resource information, it is akin to asking a vendor "How much didja make??"
I was an environmental studies major in college, and it really pains me to see such effort and money going to no effect. (Heck, we still compost!) Carbon credits are the Green equivalent of buying indulgences to get out of purgatory. I do not wish to line Al Gore's pockets, as many of the carbon credit "brokerages" are firmly linked to his finances. We use environmentally friendly chemicals where we can - if they do the job- and we are even coming out with a line of organic tees printed with water-based inks under our "Lifetees" banner (We could go water-based for your printing if you wish.). We strive to be good stewards of our planet....I have danced to several tunes, and followed many fads in my life. This is not one of them.

Please, please, someone explain in words of three syllables or less how paying protection money to Carbon Credit companies offers ANY benefit to the environment. It seems rather to be a semi-private-sector tax self-imposed to modify behavior, which may be the sole point, and I've sussed it out.

I am unconvinced that the current eco-movement has a clue, or the ability to keep more than one factor in mind at a time. Carbon is VITAL to life. We are carbon-based. Plants take evil carbon dioxide IN, and release oxygen into the atmosphere, which we carbon-based lifeforms breathe, exhaling CO2 for the plants, and the Wonder of Life goes on. The plants LIKE carbon dioxide. Vegetarians should like it, too, 'cos their zucchinis, and marrows, and alfalfa sprouts wouldn't BE without it.

Humankind is natural. We are a part of the environment, as is oil, as is uranium. All the environmental eeeeeee-vils come from the environment. People, another part of the environment, process the mineral wealth of our planet. We have made life on earth quite comfortable, at least in the West where we have bothered to learn the processes, rather than worship the rocks. Interesting, those in the West who seem inclined to worship the rocks would rather we return to a pre-industrial life. I do not personally care to poop in a chamber pot, or in a hole in the woods. (Ooooh, reductio ad absurdum!)

Really, though, I am loath to reveal my resource usage to anyone. It's hard enough to get enough ground bald eagle feathers for that perfect shade of ink...The shell of the spotted turtle is the perfect scoop for getting ink out of the buckets, and the compound eyes of the Hine's Emerald Dragonfly provide the perfect iridescence for some of our glitter inks. (Wow. If all this gets out, what would people think of me? )

If it isn't the real thing, I'm sunk.

Last week, as you recall, Will, Penny and Dr. Smith...

As most of my reader know, I'm in a medical research study for a BPH treatment. It consists of periodic injections to reduce testosterone production. I was apprised of certain possible side-effects. The obvious one is not a problem, thankfully. My libido is fine, thank you very much. However, I have some other less-than-fun things going on in my life. I have gained no weight, but my extant avoirdupois seems to be shifting to my abdomen. No six-pack, here...think of a keg. Meh.
The Aardvark seems not as sexiful as he once was.

That is really not that bad, comparatively speaking. My real problem is anger. Now, I have allus had a temper, but with zero being Nirvana, and nine being thermonuclear devastation, with kicking the dog and then dropping cinderblocks on it for good measure, well, I am currently going from 0 to 8 in five seconds. This is not good. Neither is it fun, and I had been worrying over it. Couple of days ago, whilst in a lucid and calm moment, I was discussing with The Dread Dormomoo and Loen my concern, when it hit me: "I'm in a medical trial!!". So-o-o-o-o-o...if I AM in fact receiving the real drug, and not a placebo, it may well explain the situation, and we can all handle it a bit better, with expectation of its being temporary.

If otherwise I am receiving coloured saline, I am having an Unpleasantness, one which needs to be dealt with. That or I am an Unpleasantness, the thought of which really makes me angry. Very, very....

Fortunately, I don't have a dog. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Cunning Dove has knocked loose a thought.

OW!

I am ceaselessly amazed at the profusion of...stuff... that the Earth provides. Look at how many CARS have been made in 100+ years. Look at all the junk cars there are, all made of material mined from the Earth. Go to your local supermarket, and stand in awe at the magnitude of the produce there, and then realise that this is multiplied many times in your town, and then in all the cities and towns in your state, throughout all the states and territories of the Union, and then throughout all the countries on our little ball of mud and iron. All that food, cajoled, coaxed, even wrested from the dirt. Go to a superstore, look at all the things, in ceaseless proliferation. Think of all the other superstores, emporia, mom-and-pop stores, and tiendas filled with things, all made of earth-stuff.

Despite the whinging of the eco-left, the jaundiced Greens, we are not running out. Plenty of coal, iron ore, aluminum, molybdenum (yes, even molybdenum, Dr. Ehrlich.), even petroleum. Even if oil is running out -which I question- we have huge quantities of alternatives which we can convert to over time.

Unless you look at the night-lights of Earth from space, you can scarcely tell from orbit that man has made a dent on the planet. We six billion are so small, and our world is so comparatively huge.

You could fit 9141 people per square mile in the space of Alaska, the entire six billion population of the planet. NYC is far more densely populated. (I once offered this datum to a "WE are overpopulated...unsustainable...UNSUSTAINABLE!!!" person, who then asked "But why would they want to live like that?". Clearly off her meds.

Our planet is barely populated. Certain areas are very populated. The map above (2006) shows the majority of Earth as lavender,,,or is it whitish-purple? That color signifies a population density of 0-50 persons / sq. km. Yes, much of the land is in the unpopular weather regions, but the land area is there, and could be used in a pinch. Of course, one would not wish to devote arable land to high-rises. Land use planning is an important discipline.

The main issue is Earth's provenance. We are well supplied with food and materials. The starving are invariably enjoying the benevolence of corrupt regimes, where most of the West's charitable giving winds up in the warehouses of despots, and the people are not free to pursue happiness, or Jeffersonian profit.

The problem is not the Earth's. As the psalmist wrote:

Psa 24:1 "The earth is Jehovah's, and the fullness of it; the world, and those who live in it."

That's my energy and resource platform.

During the long drive to Animazement, the crew and I stopped at a gas station, and Link (he cosplays the Zelda vidya game character) picked up a couple of the now ever-present
May-hee-CAN snacks. One was SPONCH. The Urban Dictionary defines it thusly:

A shortbread cookie topped with four marshmallows, two pink and two white, with shredded coconut, and often found with a squirt of jelly on top, and, occasionally, sprinkles. Sponch originates in Mexico and is manufactured by Marinela Bakeries.

See photo above.

The other was a chocolate sandwich cookie called "LORS".I can find nothing online about it; not even the bakery site owns up to it. The blue packaging was a manic wild man or caveman as its decoration.

The packages were not touched on the drive.

Early Sunday morning, there was a power failure in the area, so the hotel fire alarm dutifully went off, and the guests all streamed out of the facility be-jammied and grumpy.
Once it was determined that there was no conflagration, we hiked up eight flights to our room, and lay back down. Link remembered the snacks and hauled them out. First he opened the SPONCH!. He offered it to me, and I went to take a bite, until the...aroma...hit my nose. It had a the redolence of industrial waste. I could not even attempt to eat it. Next he offered up the LORS. I thought "It's a chocolate sandwich cookie. How bad could it be?".

Never ask that question.

It tasted...brown. That is pretty much it. Oh, and sweet. Brown and sweet. It was then I had the epiphany.

The Mexican illegal - er undocumented - migrants are NOT really coming for better jobs. They are running from their snack foods.

Not sure I can blame them.

At last, someone besides Fred Allen gets me.

Your Slogan Should Be

Weatherly. Uncommonly Made, Uncommonly Good.

The Slogan Generator

Of course, I REALLY like this one:

Your Slogan Should Be

Weatherly. What's the Worst that Can Happen?

The Slogan Generator

WHAT A TEAM!!!

Between Obama and McCain, I think we can beat whatever the world can throw at us.

Scant weeks since Le Nègre Magique prescribed the cure for our gasoline ills, and McCain & Co. filled the prescription, we see petrol prices plummeting. "Properly inflate your tyres." Obama intoned. McCain and crew then gave out gauges to insure that it would be done. And what did the Aardvark enjoy on his trip to Sunny Florida? Gasoil approaching $3.50 a gallon. Paradise on Earth. I can see the Millenial Dawn tracts as we speak. "Millions Now Living Will Never Pay $5-a-Gallon for Gas ".
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Brokeback Church's Rick Warren interviewed both Obama and McCain. Ebony and Ivory. It accomplished precisely what was intended, and at the end of McCain's more substantive interview, I found myself nodding and saying "Y;know, I could live with this...."

The emergent church births emergent socialism. "But Warren isn't Emerging...!!!". When you lie with dogs you are bound to get fleas. (He wrote a foreword for a book written by Dan Kimball titled The Emerging Church: Vintage Christianity for New Generations - Kimball is a leader in the movement).
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(MOAR)

Contrary to the popular opinion that your Aardvark is a tool of Big Oil and Our Friend Mr. Atom, I was an environmental studies major in college. I was also a waiter, though I was not in the theater department. Being loquacious, I happened to mention to a couple of ladies from Vermont who were enjoying our prandial offerings the fact of my major, and my interest in alternative energy and sustainable organic gardening. They acquainted me with the Grandpa's Knob project in the early forties.

The first large-scale wind turbine built in the United States was conceived by Palmer Cosslett Putnam in 1934; he completed it in 1941. The machine was huge. The tower was 36.6 yards (33.5 meters) high, and its two stainless steel blades had diameters of 58 yards (53 meters). Putnam's wind turbine could produce 1,250 kilowatts of electricity, or enough to meet the needs of a small town. It was, however, abandoned in 1945 because of mechanical failure. (Answers.com)

On a hilltop in Rutland, Vermont, "Grandpa's Knob" wind generator supplied power to the local grid for several months during World War II. The Smith- Putnam machine was rated at 1.25 megawatts in winds of about 30 miles per hour. It was removed from service in 1945.(www.eia.doe.gov)

Wikpedia continues:

In 1941 the world's first megawatt-size wind turbine was connected to the local electrical distribution system on Grandpa's Knob in Castleton, Vermont, USA. It was designed by Palmer Cosslett Putnam and manufacturered by the S. Morgan Smith Company. This 1.25 MW Smith-Putnam turbine operated for 1100 hours before a blade failed at a known weak point, which had not been reinforced due to war-time material shortages

Not a bad go for 67 years ago. While I do not relegate wind power to cloud-cuckoo-land, I recognise that it is only a facet of the Answer to our energy needs. Do we need wind power? Yes. Do we need nuclear power? Yes. Coal, fusion, solar? Yes, yes, and yes.

We need maser power satellites, too. AND we need oil. Our current civilisation is built upon oil technology, and it is that industrial base which will engineer the next technological revolution. To generalise, politicians operate in the shade of half-truths, and out-and-out lies.They parrot special interest lines to divide the rest of us, following the most important rule: Let's you and him fight. Get 'em out of the way. Let the venture capital crowd do what they do best, let the energy biggies do what they do best. Your lights, TVs and computers run with nary a flicker, and your espresso machines do not sputter out at need. This is where we are. To continue this happy circumstance, we MUST drill for more oil, looking to the future. The issue is not whether it will lower gas prices today. That is a herring of the red persuasion. The point is that in the coming decades, will we be able to continue our current level of technology, while at the same time developing the power tech of the future?

To borrow from a comment I made over at PL's: let's not saddle our children with the opportunity to live as a developing nation. We need a robust industrial base to produce the next generation of energy sources. That alone is reason to increase domestic production now, so we CAN produce the sci-fi technology needed tomorrow.

C'mon, it's the 21st Century. I'm still waiting on my rocket pack, not to mention my Li'l Atom Home Reactor.

I feel so cheated.

.

Well, Washington has warned Israel not to attack Iran, proof yet more that the US has no clue about national sovereignty.

Iran has every right to build nuclear anything within its borders. Israel has every right to pursue its national agenda. The Duchy of Grand Fenwick can build pinot-derived Q-bombs if they so choose. The US has every right and responsibility to shut its collective gob and tend to its own business.Just because our leadership is willing to have our borders invaded, and our border agents held at gunpoint on our side of the border by May-hee-can soldiers does not mean that we have any imperative, moral or otherwise, to be the world's Mary Worth.

Maybe you should consider that thought come November.

With their new slogan, "Live Brightly", will SunChips become the preferred snack of the militant atheists?

It has been an insane summer here in Goat Bog. A bit of surgery has the Dread Dormomoo out of commission for three more weeks (not bed-ridden, but movin' mighty slow - her recovery is going well, it just takes time). We guys are taking turns at chores and household maintenance, and have discovered that we can't keep up with what the D.D. did at a regular pace. We all feel like slugs.

We have two crews out at conventions this weekend: ConnectiCon and MechaCon.
Those of us at home, Loen, Zoomerdog and I are prepping for Otakon, the huge anime-fest in Baltimore next weekend. The Confusticated One and Riatsila will be back Monday to help.
THEN, the following weekend, Riat and I will head to Orlando for AFO, one of our favorites, even though it is in Florida, in mid-August, when you need SCUBA gear to breath because of the humidity. But it IS at the Wyndham....

All this is to give reason for my conspicuous absence here. Sitting down to blog becomes a luxury. I do want to continue for the sake of my many reader.

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One thing that troubles me is the practice of singing hymns about the Bible. Songs like "Holy Book Divine", and "Give Me the Bible" seem to cross a line into bibliolatry. Singing songs about the Word of God is one thing. Singing a hymn to a book is a bit out there. Just a thing with me.