BUY


THIS


BOOK

Bob Ragsdale has been a lurker here for awhile. He is apparently a completist nut, as he was drawn to "Aardvark's Plumbline" like an ant to a pic...never mind. He and I share some congruent manias. He is as gaga over hyphens as I am over ellipses.

His book "Sun-Dried Aardvark-Tongue Swizzle-Sticks" is a new star on the odd and cool book horizon. Just looking at is makes me think of John O' Hurley.
The illos are by Bob's nephew Jamie Guy, who can draw faster than you can say "Bob's your uncle.". The whole thing comes off like a '50s travelogue. Has that whole "safari, then gins-and-tonic all around" feel.

The concept is simple: A catalog of household oddments and gewgaws, the likes of which used to be found in the gift section of Better Men's Clothing Stores, next to the Buxton wallet display. One thing, though. These are made of odd bits from endangered beasties.
The Patagonian-Hedge-Hog-Soap-Holder. Keeps-your-soap-high-and-dry. (Yeah, now I'm just being silly-with-the-hyphens) Yawning-Hippo Stereo-Speakers. Bose is in despair.

And should be.

The inspiration? I'll let Bob explain:

The Inspiration for this catalog came from what I understand to be a real item - the Wall-Mounted Springbok-Penis Whisky-Dispenser, the existence of which was related to me by an acquaintance. The rest of the inspiration came from a bottle of whisky.

I shall not ask how said whisky was dispensed....

Guys, this is a real book, not a fever dream of an overworked Aardvark. Go HERE to check it out. And also to buy it. Or several. The thing is ONLY $9.95. You can get ahead on your Fathers Day, birthday, Christmas, and Hannukah shopping.

Here's a neat gimme. A portion of the proceeds are donated to the WWF. The not-wresting one. World Wildlife Fund. It's enough to warm the heart of a Repentant Environmentalist like me. So you can buy a funny, funny book, and it may save the Banded Vituperative Marmoset, too! Or somesuch.

So pony up, guys. And gals. You'll laugh, your friends will laugh, and you'll all feel good about it.

Of course, Bob will be ecstatic!

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY

TO

ME!








Well, I have dodged the Bony Hand for yet another annum. Sorry Grim.

The Dread Dormomoo got me a groovy Phaser.II, with detachable Phaser I. ( I feel the aetheric ripples as you all sadly shake your heads.) It is a permutation of Phaser toys unseen in this continuum.

Mr. McLeod gave me a copy of The Prestige. Cool.

But the REAL honor came Saturday night, when I bailed from Vox's, and went to Mikawa's, our favorite Japanese restaurant. We gathered for Riatsila's and my birthday, and I was expecting to foot the bill, hobbit-like. I planned on a beef teriyaki dinner of which I am fond. The Brood instead blessed the D.D. and me with Kobe beef dinners.

It was amazing! I have never had beef that tasted like that. It was cubed and grilled with red wine, and served with rice and a garnish of grated daikon radish.

Delish! (Who says "delish"?)

Thank you! It was truly worth not dying for a year!
-------------------------------------

STOP THE PRESSES! The Dread Dormomoo hauled out a Present of Great Mass!
If she had tossed it at me, or dropped it on my toe, I would have had Cause, but she handed it to me, so you trial lawyers put your tongues back in your mouths.
I marveled at its heft, so I opened it.
A cast-iron wok. One could commit Murder Most Foul with it, then dispose of the evidence.
The Secret's in the Sauce.

Stir-fry would also be good cooked in it.

Happy Birthday to ME!

Physician,

Heal

Thy

Wallet

As a collector of alternative medicine arcanum, I find my interest in it is NewsMaxed out. I REALLY am tired of NewsMax. They cannot comprehend that "No!" means No.
I have tried to opt out, but like unwanted pr0n pop-ups, they keep showing up.

What has really gotten me perturbed is the adverts they send camouflaged as news. "Dr. Shylock's Newsletter" promises virtually Gnostic truths about this vitamin and that phyto-nutrient, and which two food additives will make your bladder invert. All you have to do is subscribe to his newsletter!

Now, I believe a laborer is worthy of his hire, but where such dire health results are in the balance, isn't it a tad unethical to hold seekers of medical good hostage to making them buy your newsletter to save their lives? If the Army doesn't want to fight the Prostate That Ate Cleveland, then the good Doc should pony up the info that will whittle the Florida grapefruit currently wrapped around Mr. Jones' urethra down to its accustomed walnutty dimensions.

Add to this the fact that most of these newsletters YELL THEIR PROPAGANDA AT THE TOP OF THEIR KEYBOARDS!!!

LIVE TO BE 100 BY DOING LINES OF BARLEY POWDER!!!!


YOGURT ENEMAS GAVE THE HUNZA SUPERPOWERS, AND LOTS OF MESSY FUN!!!!!

Like that.

Oh, the real annoyance is that they are not newsletters at all; they are catalogs.


BUY THIS MULTIVITAMIN, OR HAVE YOUR HEAD EXPLODE WITH A THERMONUCLEAR ANEURYSM.

"Foul", I cry. Foul and Bravo Sierra.

I also declare shenanigans.

I have realized something.

Are you sitting down?
Not everyone when confronted with God's Word will listen.
Not everyone who hears God's Word understands it.

Or wants to.

When their mode of life is compared to what God presents as a template, not everyone wants to change. It is easier to justify one's own way than to admit not being plumb to God's standard, and so change.

It is easier to make God like me, than for me to strive to be like God.

It is easier to look for dirt upon others, than to become clean.

It is easier to find the handful of "dirt" in the Scriptures, than to admit to the barrow-full of my own.

It is far, far easier to be like the world, than to change it.

It is far, far easier to be like the world, than to change myself.

It is infinitely easier to point to the strivers for good and say "Hypocrites" than to consider one's own insufficiency. And we are all insufficient.

It is easier to curse than to bless.
It is easier to divide than to reconcile.
It is easier to whine than to praise.

And it is easier to sleep than to keep this up.
I'm going to bed.

'BOUT TIME!

The STARGATE franchise is finally cashing in. Atlantis will be represented by a line of action figures, a Stargate, and who knows what-all. I'm hoping for a Hopper, and maybe the Prometheus starship. But I'm not interested in having any of 'em. I'm just thrilled that a Market Niche is being filled.

Really.

Say "BAY-BEE"

Barack Obama has the charisma of a televangelist, and his rhetoric has as much substance. Pass the candy floss. I would love to see someone Photoshop Obama whacking the forehead of one of his swooning acolytes with his open palm. It's like the preacher Ernest Angley, who would stick his fingers in the ears of the deaf, pop then out, then whisper "say bay-bee".

From an Obama speech last December:

Because I know that when the American people believe in something, it happens.

If you believe, then we can tell the lobbyists that their days of setting the agenda in Washington are over.

If you believe, then we can stop making promises to America’s workers and start delivering — jobs that pay, health care that’s affordable, pensions you can count on, and a tax cut for working Americans instead of the companies who send their jobs overseas.

If you believe, we can offer a world-class education to every child, and pay our teachers more, and make college dreams a reality for every American.

If you believe, we can save this planet and end our dependence on foreign oil.

If you believe, we can end this war, close Guantanamo, restore our standing, renew our diplomacy and once again respect the Constitution of the United States of America.

That’s the future within our reach. That’s what hope is — that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better is waiting for us around the corner. But only if we’re willing to work for it and fight for it. To shed our fears and our doubts and our cynicism. To glory in the task before us of remaking this country block by block, precinct by precinct, county by county, state by state.

There is a moment in the life of every generation when, if we are to make our mark on history, this spirit must break through.

This is the moment.

This is our time.

Do you believe?



Do you BELIEVE?



DO YOU BELIEVE-UH?


Say bay-bee !

----------------------------------
New:

It has struck me that here is a man who speaks totally in bumper-stickers

Believers, this one's for you.

OK, just to be clear, pellucid even: this is not a Humor Piece. I checked, and my tongue is nowhere near my cheek. Neither am I lurking at the bottom of this piece waiting to go "Booga-booga: GOTCHA!".

The whole plumb line concept is one of comparing summat to a Standard, God's Word, or in lesser instances, to a Word-influenced view of things, so here is one for you to practice upon: In your koinonia , your fellowship, your church-going, do you find that what you would refer to as your "Christian life" (if such reference should be made at all), would be a Thing To Die For? To be more clear, is what you experience in your worship, and all the other attendant things rolled together as "church" comparable to what the New Testament reveals as what men and women died for gladly?

To be clear: Is what you have worth dying for?

You who believe that the gifts and callings of God are without repentance, and that at this juncture we do not know even as we are known: when was the last healing you have seen? I mean New-Testament-level eyeball where there wasn't one, atrophied limbs made new and functional Before Your Very Eyes, lunatics restored to mental health and functionality. Like that. I'm not talking about leg-lengthening Holy Ghost chiropractic, and "It's gone, it's gone, my Headache's gone!" stuff. (Not to give short shrift to osteo- and cranial health...I'm talking about verifiable, the doctor looks at the case history, and at the current health of the patient, falls on his face and cries "The Lord, He is God!" cases.)

Not to put too fine a point on it, but when was your last dead-raising? The only time I hear about it is when gold-encrusted, Nehru-jacketed hucksters tell us second-hand about some villager in Darkest Africa. No video, no photos, no doctor's affidavits.

At this point I say to my Pentecostally-minded friends that I'm asking what MUST be asked, if one is to be true to the Blood of the Lamb, and the word of our testimony.

To them wot bristles at the idea that God deigns to poke his Providential Proboscis into our doings, other than answering the occasional plea if it be His Will, and beyond lobbing a Book at us, what precisely in your life measures up to the lives you read of in that Singular Book? Is what you live day-to-day of such a quality that you would gladly bare your neck to the imam demanding your subservience to Allah Or Else? Does the church you worship with resemble the fellowship you read about in Acts, and the epistles, beyond hewing to a list of Acts of Worship which should be accomplished on Sundays?

Please, please, PLEASE, I am being earnest here (to which some attach Importance). I am not merely stirring the pudding in a talk-radio way. In the Church at the Beginning of the 21st Century, is there Life in our life? Are we born again, or just signing up to a list of "I believes". Does the world see our discipleship in the miraculous nature of our love for one another -miraculous in the sense that I seek good for others, without an angle of my own? When we say God is love, do we believe it, that He as a Father seeks the BEST for us, even in His strictures, and that he abounds toward us, always, that we may abound to others? Is there any difference at all in my life, as compared to the world, beyond that I say grace and do not beat my spouse? (Nowadays, perhaps this is difference enough....)

Does anyone else see these questions as important? Honest, this is NOT a judgment piece, either. I am not pointing a Bony Finger, at least not without three others pointing back. I am asking myself as surely as anyone else. I am not asking for confessions or flames. If you have summat to offer, that's great. I love your comments, but I am not attempting to force self-justification. The Gospel works, or it doesn't. The Christian faith is a reflection of Jesus being The Way, the Truth, and the Life, or it is one more sad and impotent religion in a world with too many of those already.

I am almost mumble-one and have issues with depression (gee, ya think?) , but I refuse to think that this is all a function of age and wacky brain chemistry. If our society is "post-Christian" then there must be a reason. Either God is NOT faithful (any hands...anyone? ...Bueller...?) or we have not been.

In this, I can only see an either/or.

Titan- Oils well that ends well
(or) Let the rapine begin!

The Saturnian moon Titan is adrip with hydrocarbons.
Lakes of ethane and methane. More hydrocarbons than earth has at present.

And not a dinosaur in sight.

(Yes, I know that there are different environmental things going on in orbit around Saturn. It's not either/or.) It DOES make a good argument for the abiotic formation of oil here on our little ball of mud.

I love the original Star Trek.
I love the work of John Byrne.
I love Gary Seven and his secretary.

I'm gonna LOVE this comic series!

PUTIN '12

I have to respect the man:

Putin...had a gem stored up for Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, who said that as a former K.G.B. officer, Putin “has no soul.”

“As a minimum, a state official must at least have a head,” he said.

Shame he's not a native-born son of the Yue-ess-of-AY.

The Dread Dormomoo speaks

Regarding the Congressional hearings on Baseball and steroids, she sez, sez she:

How are a bunch of liars going to tell who's lying?

Odd bits today.

The McLeod and I were talking the other day, and I expressed my disgust at Congress wasting the Nation's time and money on Hearings About Performance-Enhancing Drug Use in Baseball. (On the other hand, it may be a good thing that they are otherwise occupied. At least it slows the erosion of our country a bit.)

We came to a consensus:let the market decide. I am ambivalent toward The Great American Pastime. I DO quite enjoy hot dogs, apple pie, and the memory of my mother.
That said, why don't we just let the FANS decide what they want to watch. Perhaps two tracks of ball games would serve: Organic Baseball, with naught but fresh air, exercise, and Gatorade, and the Enhanced Leagues, where Bot-Ball will reign. The Sultans of Sub-Orbital Swat making steroid - or cyber implant- enhanced records every week. Let the fans vote with their dollars.

Ultimately it will be the choice between Baseball and Blernsball.

Kill the fatted calf!

My Doppelganger has been found!
Not my lookalike...perish forbid, the earth could not support such a pulchritudinous weight. Two of me?!

No, my Journey to the Far Side of the Sun DVD has been reunited with its cover.
I found it in one of the many blank DVD spindles that are now full of unlabeled not-blank-anymore DVDs. It was well down the stack, well on the way to becoming diamond under the pressure.

I do so hate losing cheese.
--------------------------------------------------

My habit at work- for which I would fire me if I were my boss- is to plug in a DVD and have it keep me company as I print. I saw the worst movie I have seen in a very long time. It was a freebie that came with a set of DVDs I ordered after Christmas. I guess they knew what it was worth:

Vampire Woman , starring the doubtable Andrew Prine, is the title of THIS release of the 1973 horror creaker Hannah, Queen of the Vampires. The sheer length of the IMDB description says it all:

Two archaeologists on a scientific dig come across a vampire burial ground and discover that the creatures are about to awaken and attack a nearby village.

Unless the filmmakers intended a completely eerie mood, and I don't see why they would get that right, the film stock had shifted to the blue. I strongly suspect this was a burned copy of an internet download.

Perhaps the film stock took its lead from the acting.

It sure gave me the blues.

The Aardvark has...visions...of the future.

In ten years,we will have documented the first cases of Trans-Fat Deficiency Disease.

In fifteen years, we will be buying trans-fat gel-caps at GNC.

McCain was born on August 29, 1936, at the Coco Solo Air Base in the then-American-controlled Panama Canal Zone.

From the US State Department website at http://www.state.gov/documents/organization/86755.pdf

7 FAM 1116.1-4 Not Included in the Meaning of "In the United States"

(TL:CON-64; 11-30-95)

a. A U.S.-registered or documented ship on the high seas or in the exclusive economic zone is not considered to be part of the United States. A child born on such a vessel does not acquire U.S. citizenship by reason of the place of birth (Lam Mow v. Nagle, 24 F.2d 316 (9th Cir., 1928)).

b. A U.S.-registered aircraft outside U.S. airspace is not considered to be part of U.S. territory. A child born on such an aircraft outside U.S. airspace does not acquire U.S. citizenship by reason of the place of birth.

c. Despite widespread popular belief, U.S. military installations abroad and U.S. diplomatic or consular facilities are not part of the United States within the meaning of the 14th Amendment. A child born on the premises of such a facility is not subject to the jurisdiction of the United States and does not acquire U.S. citizenship by reason of birth.

No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President -- The Constitution of the United States, Article II Section 1

I mourn...I weep

What could affect me so?

THIS.

Perfect is not good enough. No. Whollyodd has to make it better .

The Day the Earth Stood Still is perhaps the finest of the Cold War SF thrillers. Michael Rennie as Klaatu plays a dispassionate messenger with Hard News for Planet Earth. Now we have Keanu as Klaatu, likely performing to win an Aspy rather than an Oscar.

Whollyodd's addiction to remaking is painful to watch, especially as the remakes are normally dim comparisons to the originals, sprinkled with the occasional breast and the odd coprology. (Perhaps heaped rather than sprinkled.) Of course CGI special effects will abound, making the movie even MORE betterer than the 1951 classic.

In the Robert Wise film, during the creepy initial opening of the saucer, the door and ramp appearing from a seamless surface was accomplished in a lo-tech manner, and well. The entire saucer was covered in a rubberized coating, which split along the opening of the doorway. Beautiful effect, done (comparatively) on the cheap. No CG will equal that. Maybe light beams will emanate along the seam as it opens. Oooooooooh....

I really LIKE SFX work, CG or otherwise, when done effectively and well. The Remastered StarTrek TOS is a case in point.Some of the updated FX are useful and well done. The CG planet seen from orbit scenes are generally an improvement. SOME of the ship updates are pretty neat...the NCC-1701 is less wooden, but seems overdone. The best ship work I've noted is the Botany Bay from the "Space Seed" episode. Very detailed, and it looks like a ship adrift in three-dimensional space. I have seen some real crummy work, too, but no concrete examples spring to mind, so overall the Trek upgrade is favorable. But did it need to be done? "Because we can" may not be the best reason to remake something that was excellent, or even just good, to begin with.

Perish forbid that anyone in Whollyodd do an original story. We're on the third remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers , now. I still can't eat capers.

Please hear what I am NOT saying.

Perhaps a different flavor has been noted here of late. I am attempting to drag this thing back to its mission. Our culture consists of more than Sunday School, and dealing with the Issues of the Day requires a bit more depth and perspicacity than what is found in a Chick tract. In short, I do not want this to become Aardvark's Bible Hour.

But, but...PLUMBLINE...you know!

Yes. God's word is the plumbline that we are to hew to. Yes. What we need is not a Bible Promise Band-aid to plaster on each situation, but we each of us who believe must be remade, re-shapen by the Word, and from that steady platform, we address the world around. Do not despair. I am not abandoning clear speaking on things scriptural. There will be homilies. Ohhhh, such homilies there will be. OTOH, I do not wish to air soiled linen before a watching world.

The plumbline bespeaks of the prophetic, the speaking-forth of God's word, being a Nathan to the Nation. This does not necessarily happen in King James English. Sometimes, the distilled experiences of a life of faith come out in everyday speech, and in workaday situations. That is my aim here. Know that unless I make it clear otherwise, I am speaking from a Christian worldview, a way of seeing through the lens of the Scriptures and my living them. While I won't be speaking ex cathedra, my views on politics, pop culture, the arts, and things spiritual will continue in a delightsome mix, and I crave your input and comments. I'll even have some guest bloggers, methinks.

I welcome your comments on this, direction-wise.

One thing: Why is it that people say "I covet your prayers" when they want to sound spiritual? Likewise the whole "The Lord laid 'X' on my heart". Might it not be indigestion, or too much caffeine, or even incipient cardiac arrest?

As to politics: meh.

I

am

bored.

Senator Tom Butler, born April 9, 1944, in Huntsville, Alabama, is serving his fourth term in the Senate after serving from 1982-1994 in the House of Representatives. He received his degrees from the University of Alabama and Auburn University. Senator Butler and his wife, Karen, are the parents of two children: Robin and Jill. He is a Pharmacist/Health Underwriter, Baptist, Democrat, and is a member of the Optimist, the Alabama Pharmaceutical Association, and the North Alabama Health Underwriters Association. Senator Butler enjoys golf, hiking, white water rafting...

...and legislating against the sale of Mechanical Contrivances for Marital Pleasure. Since he has militated against toys for consenting adults, you may understand my turn of mind upon receiving a copy of the book above.


Alabama State Senator Butler's jihad against Things Not His Business has really ground my gears. The Libertarian in me longs for a Kwisatz Haderach to lead the people to freedom against such intrusive lawmaking. Don't think you're gaining a peek in your Aardvark's bedside table...I am in much the same lather over the war on drugs, yet I don't indulge. Besides, that wouldn't Be Your Business, either.

This all just gives me a really bad vibe.

The Irrational Atheist -a review of the book by Vox Day.


You know the dream.

You are walking down a dark alley. It's been raining, and there's steam rising from grates in the pavement. The rain has been sufficient to mask the difference between puddles of rain and little cisterns of dumpster juice, so you don't want to drop your briefcase.

Then you hear the footsteps behind you, the sound quickening, becoming louder as you increase your pace. You begin to pelt down the alley - how long do they build alleys, anyway? - running blindly, dodging cats and trashcans. You begin to turn over the cans in a vain attempt to impede your pursuer. The sound behind you changes; you don't hear running feet tripping over your obstacle course. You hear ...a metallic grinding sound growing closer, the smell of hot oil fills your nostrils as you dare to glance behind you.

You awake with a shout to a dark room and a sweat-soaked pillow, the memory dimming but still there.

That's the way it is with atheists and Vox Day's The Irrational Atheist. The atheist is the runner, who turns around to see, not a mugger, but an M-1 Abrams tank.

Vox's attack on the hucksters of illogic is a devastating one, using reason to counter the arguments of the tooty triad of Dawkins, Harris and Hitchens, rather than flinging around a Castlevania-style Bible on a chain. My first reaction would have been "But, Vox, the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation...." But the real response would appear to be:

"If they don't believe IN God, then they won't hear what God putatively SAYS."

Vox is on solid ground, here. The apostle Paul met the intellectuals of Athens on their turf, reasoning with them, and even quoting from the poetry of one of their own. I am reminded of Yahweh's invitation to His people through the prophet Isaiah: "Come let us reason together.".

I especially appreciate his libertarian bent, allowing a person to believe or not, then showing how the Mighty Trio are not so benevolent. They are apparently fine with your believing whatever you want, so long as it agrees with their disbelief.

Vox's estimation of their wrong-headedness is epic:

I am saying that they are wrong, they are reliably, verifiably, and factually incorrect. Richard Dawkins is wrong. Daniel C. Dennett is wrong. Christopher Hitchens is drunk, and he’s wrong. Michel Onfray is French, and he’s wrong. Sam Harris is so superlatively wrong that it will require the development of esoteric mathematics operating simultaneously in multiple dimensions to fully comprehend the orders of magnitude of his wrongness.
You make the call.

...and he's just telling us the WHY of the book.

Vox meets the New Atheists on their own battlefield, bringing a marshalled army of facts and mathematics to bear on the G.I.Joe toys of his opponents. The miasma of burning hair fills the air as he torches the popularized wooly thinking of these worthies. The demolition of the classic "religions cause war and death" is worth the price of admission.

Despite the pretensions of the New Atheists, their books are "popular" in precisely the sense that Tim Lahaye's books are popular. They would feel at home in a Bizarro-world Zondervan bookstore. Vox's book requires thought. Rather than being an emotional lashing-out at Dawkins & Co., TIA brings the brain and logic to bear on "to God or not to God" Don't expect a cotton-candy feel-good approach. Good times are to be had as you read, but be careful. As Cos says:"Maybe you'll even learn something.".

Vox Day's The Irrational Atheists draws the reader ineluctably to the conclusion that the arguments of the self-professed "brights" are in fact quite dim. Buy it, read it, then buy another for your local library.

I've been a customer of Jon's at OTRCat for ay-while now.
I have ALWAYS been happy with his goods and service.
If you like Old Time Radio, Radio Drama, Sci Fi, Mysteries,
Comedy...check him out. He has free individual downloads,
and his pay collections are as close to free as you can get.
Pennies per episode.

So, click the banner at the top of my website, and browse. Take your time.
And if you go back, be a dear and go through my site.

I collect the stuff, too!

The button-down Vermont innkeeper


Brief but piquant: Newhart is soon to be released on DVD (first season, anyway).

*Pause for Happy Dance*

Not since the days of The Jack Benny Program on radio has there been such an off-beat yet self-consistent world. The weirdness of the denizens of Norwich, Vermont, and the desperate attempts by the transplanted New Yorkers to relate normally to them is a delight and a wonder. Bob Newhart dead-pans his way through three brothers who share a brain, feckless yuppies, clueless town councilmen, an officious constable, the man-hungry librarian, and still manages to pen do-it-yourself books.

If you need to laugh, get this set.
...and you DO need to laugh!

The epizoodic subsides

The fever...the weakness, the inability to focus...
I'm back to normal.

The Religion of Peace and Love, the Spiritual Woodstock known as Islam, has blessed the world yet again. The two women who suicide-bombed markets in Baghdad were unveiled metaphorically when the news revealed that they were mentally...challenged.

BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) — Two mentally disabled women were strapped with explosives Friday and sent into busy Baghdad markets, where they were blown up by remote control, a top Iraqi government official said.

The bombs killed at least 98 people and wounded more than 200 at two popular pet markets on the holiest day of the week for Muslims, authorities said.

In both bombings, the attackers were mentally disabled women whose explosive belts were remotely detonated, Gen. Qasim Atta, spokesman for Baghdad’s security plan, told state television.

Atta said the women were strapped with dynamite and ball bearings, citing members of the bomb squad. The explosives were detonated via cell phone, he said.

An Atta aide said that people referred to the bomber at central Baghdad’s al-Ghazl market as the “crazy woman” and that the bomber at a second market had an unspecified birth disability.

The aide said authorities believe the women were unaware of plans to detonate the explosives.

I will avoid applying the Broad Brush here. This was disturbing enough, but today I learned that the women had Downs Syndrome. Now, I have known numbers of Downs cases, and there is no group that is more angelic and loving than people with Downs. This may be a sweeping generalization, but it has been my experience. To use such docile and trusting persons as mobile bombs is beyond depraved, makes John Calvin look like an optimist, and is deserving of additional Dantean construction. (I forget how many levels of Hell we are up to.)

I really feel bad for the otherwise intelligent and educated who have bought into Mohammed's tripe-fest. The same prince of the power of the air who can spin the declarations of Jesus into hate-speech can apparently con otherwise sentient souls into buying the jihadist mentality as metaphor or hyperbole.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Whilst loading the dishwasher this morning -doing it makes me feel less guilty about being a layabout all week. (Yes. I get the guilts over having the flu.) - the dreadful business shows were on. One guy was a guest, a 'roid-ridden guest (steroid,not the other kind) with a shaven head, and a red t-shirt with vinyl lettering that said:

No Chubbies

Now, his riff was about fat kids, and his responses to questions about his anti-fat-kid agenda were on the level of

It's child abuse

If he has a big caboose.

(I think it's so cute when roid-heads use rhyming couplets.)

My concern is whether his t-shirt was a slogan for his program, or a sad telegraphing of deeper issues. It IS, after all, FOX News.