Shots Across The Bow

The cat is out of the Bag!

The cat is out of the Bag! Major media is now noticing the efforts of bloggers to "fact check their asses" Check out this report in U.S.News

Keep an eye on bloggers. The main arena for media criticism is not going to be books, columns, or panel discussions, and it certainly won't be journalism schools. It will be the Internet.

Attack of the Clones

Attack of the Clones Hey it started out as science fiction; it's only fitting that a group seemingly from a bad science fiction novel provides us with our first cloned human.

A Korean woman is reportedly pregnant with an embryo cloned by Clonaid, a U.S. biotechnology company, according to an announcement by the company on Tuesday.
The firm's spokesman, Kwak Gi-hwa, said, "Scientists from the U.S. headquarters and Korea implanted about a month ago a cloned embryo into a surrogate mother in her 20s."
Speaking at a press conference in Daegu, Mr. Kwak said only the firm's U.S. headquarters knew whether the embryo is a clone of a Korean person.
Clonaid was founded in 1997 by the Raelian Movement, an international religious organization that preaches that life on Earth was created through genetic engineering by extraterrestrials.

Where's L. Ron when you need him?

A non violent Palestinian Protest?

A non violent Palestinian Protest? Palestinians in Nablus are ignoring the Israeli imposed curfew to go about business as normal.

NABLUS, West Bank (AP) - Thousands of Palestinians defied the Israeli army's around-the-clock curfew Monday for the second straight day, and took to the streets of Nablus as shops and banks opened to accommodate them.

The army, which has imposed the curfew in most West Bank cities and towns for the past 40 days, remained in armored vehicles ringing the city. But troops did not enter Nablus and made no moves to drive residents off the streets and back into their homes.

Civil disobedience; what a concept!

Capturing a moment

Capturing a moment Several times during the bash, I got an idea from one of the other folks, and quickly jotted it down on my PDA. I don't know how it is for the rest of you, but inspiration is as fickle as a player's heart. When an idea comes along, if you don't pay it enough attention, it will leave you for somebody who will pay attention to it. Jotting it down gives you a little breathing space, but only a little. You still have to develop it, even if only in your head, until you are ready to write it down.

The Blogger's Ball

The Blogger's Ball At last!
After my emergency auto service, I headed out to Knoxville to meet up with the other denizens of the blog zone. I got to Barley's about 15 minutes late, and ran into Bjorn Knoxley and Brehd Patchley at the hostess desk. Bjorn (or was it Brehd?) recognized me right of as I walked up, and introduced me to his partner and their two lovely companions. While we were standing there waiting for the hostess, SKBubba appeared from nowhere (I think he was protecting his anonymity by disguising himself as a barstool until he was sure no members of the K2K hit squad were in attendence) and introduced himself and his lovely wife. Introductions were exchanged, while a roguish looking fellow signalled us from the bar, none other than Troy Kinnaird The hostess arrived and while she was getting us a table, we were joined by Justin Bollinger, and Meathead.

Our hostess finally got our table ready, and we all went to sit down and begin putting faces and names together. About 15 minutes after we sat down, I spotted Glenn Reynolds and his wife wandering aimlessly through the restaurant, looking for us. I flagged them down, made some introductions, and our party was complete. Katie Granju was planning to come, but at the last minute, real life intruded and she couldn't be there. (Maybe I should have loaned her my lawn mower)

Conversation ranged widely, covering Monty Python, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy the movie Amalie (tried to rent it yesterday, but it was out) , blogging, politics, duct tape, k2k baiting, parody and satire, and life in general. We consumed much beer, pizza and hummus and if I didn't exactly break my diet, I sure bent the heck out of it.

After a couple of hours of laughter and good food, the attendees began drifting off to other engagements. It was Friday after all. At one point, there were four of us left, all single, young, fairly good looking guys, out on the town on a Friday night, discussing which comet appeared when. (Was Halley's in the '90s? No, that was Hale-Bopp. Are you sure?) To protect their reputations, I won't identify the other participants in that conversation.

Shortly after that, we called it a night, and headed out, vowing to do this again soon. To those who couldn't attend this time, we hope to see you next time. To make sure everybody can get to this one, I'm starting the planning earlier, so everybody pencil in September 14th for the next get together.

Necessity is the Mother of Invention

Necessity is the Mother of Invention or What They Don’t Teach You in Auto Shop

Friday was the big bash for Knoxville bloggers. (More on that in a minute) I got off work Friday morning and headed home under cloudy, drizzly skies. On my way, I stopped and ran some errands, so I would have my evening free for the festivities. In the course of this running around, a light rain began to fall, so I turned on my headlights.

You can sense what is coming next, can’t you?

By the time I got home, tired, grumpy, and ready for a few hours of sleep, the rain had ended; the sun was out; and it looked to be a beautiful day. I went inside, put up the groceries, washed the dishes, fed the cat to the dog, er, and the dog, then went to sleep.

I woke up several hours later, took my shower, dressed for dinner, and went out to my car. I turned the key and nothing. I got that falling elevator feeling in my stomach, and checked the switch for the headlights.

Yep. I’d left them on.

So here it was, 20 minutes before the gathering, and I had a dead battery. I drive a Tracker, with a manual tranny, so I figured I’d try to pop start it. The only problem was I was parked facing the wrong way, and would have to do it in reverse.

Hey, I’ve done it before, although never with a battery this dead. I knew since the battery was completely dead, I’d only get one shot at it, so I went through my usual pre start ritual, turned on the ignition, pushed in the clutch, put it in reverse, and released the parking brake. I coasted down my driveway, picking up speed, and when I got near the bottom, popped the clutch. The car lurched, the engine turned, coughed, and died.

Oh, yippee.

My mind raced as I tried to think about what I could do. Now like any good Tennessee redneck, I have several abandoned cars in my yard as lawn ornaments, but of course, their batteries had long since been scavenged for other vehicles. I had a battery charger in the garage that I bought for the lawn mower, but that would take hours to…wait a minute. The lawn mower! It has a battery! This could work! After all, the engine in a Tracker isn’t much bigger than a lawn mower engine. I went to the barn, fired up the lawn mower, and rode it down to my car. I hooked up the jumper cables, got in the Tracker, and turned the key. The motor ground very slowly for a second, then spun once and started. Victory was mine!

From my e-mail

From my e-mail
An American Airlines flight en route from Los Angeles to JFK airport in New York City was diverted to Kansas City yesterday when a passenger was noticed attempting to light a fuse protruding from his rectum. Flight Attendant Bunny Haggarty said she noticed the man seated in an aisle seat leaning forward and holding a cigarette lighter behind his legs.

"I thought he was just trying to light a fart," said Haggarty. Then I saw this string-like thing hanging from his ass, and I got scared." Haggarty immediately called for assistance, and several male passengers subdued the man before he was able to light the fuse.

After landing in Kansas City, authorities discovered that the man's intestines were stuffed with military grade C4 explosive. FBI agents stated that it would have been a complete catastrophe if the passenger had succeeded in lighting the fuse. The passenger, Mohammed Bin Ali El Batout Nabeel Sin Abba Rahim Mansour Ali Baba, age 25, was carrying fourteen passports from various countries throughout the middle east.

Asked why he had stuffed himself full of plastic explosives, Ali Baba stated, "I was planning to blow the chit out of the plane. I wanted to kill all the Americans and Jews to show that we are a peace loving pipple."

Airport security agents in Los Angeles remembered seeing Ali Baba as he boarded American flight 90. They were a bit concerned because his name would not fit on the front of the ticket; he was wearing a checkered tablecloth as a hat; he looked like he was ready to kill someone; he was reading an Al Qaeda training manual; and he was wearing a "Kill Americans" T-shirt. However, according to Federal Airport Security
standards, individuals cannot be profiled for additional security simply because they are young, Middle-Eastern men.

The security supervisor, Leroy Jackson, said he also was somewhat concerned with the way Ali Baba walked. "Hell, man, the guy waddled like he had a stick of dynamite up his ass!" stated Jackson. "Had I not been on the phone with my probation officer, I might have checked this guy out some more. But we want and need complete diversity in our passenger screening. Plus, we think the flight crews on those planes pose more of a threat to safety than one raghead with an exploding
ass. That's why you can always find one of them pilots in bare feet waiting for his shoes to be X-rayed. I love seeing the look on their faces when we make them do that," he guffawed. Jackson added, "I just hope they don't give those pilots guns, 'cause they might want to even the score."

Federal officials are referring to this latest terrorist weapon as a "butt bomb." Security experts believe this could be even more difficult to detect than the primitive "shoe bomb" used by terrorist Richard Reid.

"We have asked the FAA to demand that passengers provide evidence they are not carrying any explosive material in their intestines prior to a flight's departure," said one federal official.

But a spokesman for the FAA replied, "We are not going to take any crap from anyone."

A Country Boy can Survive

A Country Boy can Survive Nine of 'em, in fact!

The miners surprised medical personnel who had prepared to treat them for symptoms of hypothermia or the bends, an excruciating condition caused by sudden changes in pressure. Decompression chambers, ambulances and 18 helicopters were at the scene 55 miles southeast of Pittsburgh.

For days the men had been described as a tough breed. Air was pumped into the chamber at a temperature of more than 100 degrees to warm them before anyone at the surface knew they were alive.

Never give up, even when it looks hopeless.

A dark day for lovelorn rednecks

A dark day for lovelorn rednecks It is with great sorrow that I have to report to you the demise of Hillary's House of Hillbilly Love (and Bait Shop) It seems they got caught up in a multi-state federal task force targeting asian massage parlors fronting for prostitution. In the latest move in the war on terror, federal agents descended on several massage parlors over 5 states, rousting the girls and arresting the owners. Federal agent Ferd Dickley had this to say:

These women are a drain on the resources of our great nation. They sap the wills and the wallets of our young men, and that gives strength and comfort to our enemies. We believe that this operation struck a deadly blow against terrorists everywhere.

The operation took four years of continuous observation and investigation, as well as undercover activities to document the illegal activities.

"These are some very slick operators," Dickley said. "We were aware of the establishments for quite some time, but thought they were legitimate therapeutic centers. Heck, I even went to one a time or two when my back was acting up. I noticed that the therapists seemed awfully friendly, but didn't think anything of it at the time. But we kept getting reports of prostitution from the public, and decided to investigate. We were shocked to find that the rumors were true, and that prostitution was taking place. We were so shocked, we couldn't believe it at first, and had to investigate again, several times a month over a four year period. But at last, we had enough evidence to put these people where they belong."

Sadly, our friend Hillary and her girls were caught up in this sweep as well.

"I don't see why they had to come and bother us," Hillary said. "Hell, all my girls are home-grown, red-blooded daughters of the United States. We're not a security risk. We just provide a needed service to lonely guys. Where's the crime in that?"

But the law is the law, and Hillary's has been shut down. Law enforcement officials confiscated all property on the premises, right down to the last nightcrawler in the bait shop.

Oh, the humanity!

The blogfest--finalized!

The blogfest--finalized! OK, folks, I've had three responses, two for Friday and one for Saturday, so Friday it is! We'll meet at Barleys in the Old City around 6 PM. Remember, friends and family members are welcome, as well as any area readers who want to meet the people responsible for these pages. I'll be easy to spot: just look for the guy with all the hair!

Nothing funny about this

Nothing funny about this I knew this was coming:

A New York City lawyer has filed suit against the four big fast-food corporations, saying their fatty foods are responsible for his client’s obesity and related health problems.

Samuel Hirsch filed his lawsuit Wednesday at a New York state court in the Bronx, alleging that McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s and KFC Corporation are irresponsible and deceptive in the posting of their nutritional information, that they need to offer healthier options on their menus, and that they create a de facto addiction in their consumers, particularly the poor and children.

Pretty smart lawyer. He's got this issue linked to racism, class warfare, and thrown "protect the children" in there to boot.

What an ass.

Look folks, as a formerly fat person (305lbs) I can testify that Ronald McDonald never held a gun to my head, forcing me to eat a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Dave Thomas never tied me up and force fed me Frostys and french fries. The Burger King did not order me to the rqack unless I consumed a Double Whopper with Cheese, and an extra-large order of fries.

I made those choices. I could have ordered a salad, or gone to Subway, or made my own lunch. I chose not to and the predictable result was my responsibility, not Long John Silver's.

The lead plaintiff in this case had this to say:

The lead plaintiff, 56-year-old maintenance supervisor Caesar Barber, ate at fast-food restaurants four or five times a week and blames his fatty diet for his obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure and cholesterol and the two heart attacks he has suffered.

"I trace it all back to the high fat, grease and salt, all back to McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King – there was no fast food I didn't eat, and I ate it more often than not because I was single, it was quick and I’m not a very good cook," Barber said in an interview with Foxnews.com.

And that is Burger King's fault? Please!

The Knoxville Blogger bash is on!

The Knoxville Blogger bash is on! We're planning to meet at Barleys in the Old City at 6 PM on Friday. Let me know if this is going to be a problem for anyone, and we can adjust as needed. Looking forward to meeting everybody! Friends, spouses, etc are welcome.

UPDATE I've had a request to move from friday to Saturday, which works just as well for me. If there are any problems, leave a comment or send an e-mail and we'll work it out.

Put these folks in charge of Homeland Security!

Put these folks in charge of Homeland Security!
My ex-wife is applying for a new job. She responded to an ad and called the place up, and was interviewed over the phone. Afterwards, the man who interviewed her asked her to come down for a second interview. This interview lasted for about 20 minutes, then he asked her to come back and interview again with another member of his management staff. She did so, and then was asked to come back one more time to interview with the general manager. Following that interview, she was told that they were going to check her references, and then get back to her about her work schedule.

I worked one job cleaning up weapons grade plutonium. The area was also used for the long term storage and disposal of chemical weapons. I had access to some of the deadliest substances known to man, and I was hired sight unseen after one phone interview.

So, where is she applying, that takes such a thorough interview and review process? Oak Rdge National Labs, perhaps? The Spallation Neutron Source project, maybe? Nope, nothing so inconsequential. She's applying to be a server at O'Charley's restaurant.

It just doesn't make any sense. She's slinging hash, not guarding the President!

I guess it's just one more question about restaurants to add to the list:

• Why do I have to wait 15 minutes for a table when I've made reservations?
  
• What's the difference between reservations and 'call ahead' seating? Isn't a reservation just calling ahead even more?
  
• Why do they invariably place the smoking section upwind of the non smoking section?
  
• Why are the dinner plates cold but the salad plates are hot?
  
• Why do they keep the lights so low in fancy restaurants? What are they trying to hide?
  
• A hamburger is $4.95. Strip off the bun and throw the salad ina bowl on the side and now it is a ground sirloin steak and costs $9.95. Is it really worth $5.00 to pretend you're eating a steak?
  
• Why would you pay for the privilege of making your own food? A salad bar is bad enough, but there are restaurants now which specialize in letting you cook your own food! Oh joy! I never get to do that at home. Next thing you know, we'll be paying to do our dishes too!
  
• Why does your server come and check on you only when you're mouth is full?
  
• Is it too much to ask to fill my glass with water, instead of seeing just how much ice you can cram into a finite space?
  
• What's with this whole 'server' thing anyway? What's wrong with 'waiter' and 'waitress'? Although it's true that I'm usually the one doing the waiting...
  
• How can a tip be mandatory, no matter how many are in your group?

We have a lot of restaurants in Knoxville. The last census showed that per capita we have more restaurants than we do flush toilets, a fact which is frightening in its implications. We have multiple copies of all the major chains and fast food franchises, as well as a stunning array of locals and independants. You can get any type of food you want, from Cajun to Indian, from Greek to Italian, from Kosher to haute cuisine, from steak and potatoes to a vegan feast (now there's an oxymoron for you). While mediocrity reigns supreme, in a group this large, there are always some exceptional places.
A few highlights from today:

• A hamburger at Litton's in Fountain City
  
• Any steak at Ye Old Steak House on Chapman Highway
  
• Fondue dining at The Melting Pot
  
• The Bountiful Breakfast at the Burning Bush in Gatlinburg
  
• A gyro from the Time Out deli on Kingston Pike
  
• Any sandwich from Harold's Deli downtown
  
• Petros!
  
• The tiramisu from Romano's Maccaroni Grill

And yesterday:

• Thanksgiving dinner at Helma's in East Knoxville
  
• The pewter plates at the Old Rathskeller in Western Plaza
  
• The rack of lamb at the Half Shell
  
• The prime rib from The Regas

My dad always says you can't make money with a restaurant. In that case, there are a lot of folks not making money in Knoxville.

Those sneaky bastards!

Those sneaky bastards! In an amazing show of journalistic ability, the Metro Pulse has uncovered a secret plot to transport lots of nasty nuclear stuff through Knoxville.

The Associated Press reports that an energy consortium is thinking of establishing a billion-dollar uranium enrichment plant near Erwin, Tenn., and reveals that a TVA contract already has 33 metric tons of blended uranium coming out of Erwin to fuel the Brown's Ferry Nuclear Plant in Alabama. How does all that hot stuff get from Northeast Tennessee to Brown's Ferry without being shipped through Knoxville? Uh, well...the risk is minimal, you know, minimal.

From the TVA website, January 15, 2002:

“At the same time, it determined that 33 metric tons of the original 200 did not meet the specifications necessary to convert it directly into low-enriched uranium that could be used by the commercial sector as reactor fuel.”
Enter TVA and the BLEU Team.
“TVA signed a Memorandum Of Understanding with DOE in 1998 to pursue a program to use the out-of-specification 33 metric tons of highly enriched uranium,” Robert says. “DOE and our team worked together to solve the technical, commercial and environmental problems associated with using this uranium.”
TVA completed an environmental review and in 2001 TVA and DOE signed an Interagency Agreement. Then the BLEU program was initiated.

From the NFS website dated March 28, 2001 (yes, over a year ago):

A new project to supply fuel for multiple TVA nuclear plant units will have Nuclear Fuel Services, Inc. (NFS) playing a significant role. The effort to convert surplus highly enriched uranium (HEU) to low-enriched uranium (LEU) for commercial power reactor fuel points to the company’s importance in nuclear materials management.
"By converting surplus nuclear material left over from the Cold War, NFS is playing a key role in turning what could have become a burdensome and costly waste into a vital resource for the TVA and its customers," said NFS President Dwight Ferguson. "America is rediscovering the value of nuclear power in the midst of an energy crisis. HEU-to-LEU conversion can help fuel the U.S. economy and reduce a Cold War legacy.”

And finally, from the Elizabethton Star:

The Nuclear Regulatory Commission published notice Monday in the Federal Register of its intent to prepare an Environmental Assessment regarding the blend-down of 33 metric tons of bomb-grade uranium into low-enriched reactor fuel at Nuclear Fuel Services Inc. of Erwin.
The fuel would be used to power reactors at Tennessee Valley Authority's Browns Ferry Nuclear Plant in Alabama

Hmmmm. TVA, NFS, Framatone, and the EPA have all issued press releases on this deal over the course of two years. But because a MP staffer read the AP wire and saw the story for the first time, it is a revelation?

Please!

As for the snappy little ending there, perhaps a little research would tell the MP just how minimal the risk truly is. Then instead of trying to frighten people with non-existent boogeymen, they could try actually informing them for a change.

It's just a thought.

It's racism, pure and simple

It's racism, pure and simple Echoing a complaint first lodged by Damon Wayans, Anthony Clark of Yes, Dear has complained about being scheduled against the popular Whose Line is it Anyway?

QWell, yeah," he said. "I think it's pretty rotten when we have to be scheduled against another comedy show built around white people. I mean, where's the diversity, man?

When asked about his feelings on the matter, Drew Carey responded, "Who's Anthony Clark?"

Decisions

Decisions I met a woman tonight; her name was xxxxx. I was driving in to work, and I saw her hitching on a winding, mountain road. I was getting close to work, but I stopped and pulled over for her anyway, since the road was narrow, and not a very safe place to walk. She thanked me for stopping, and said it was scary walking out there. I asked her where she was going, and she said "Over the hill."

She looked sad, and gave me her name, and I gave her mine as I drove. She needed to talk, and told me she had just gotten into a fight with her ex-husband, the one that used to beat on her. I said something lame, like "That's not good," trying to project sympathy for this stranger in my car, sensing that she needed to connect with another person, even if for a short moment.

She asked me if I drank, and I said no, which disappointed her. "I could really use a cold one," she sighed. Her house was just over the hill, like she said, and we were there within minutes of her getting into my car. I pulled into her driveway, and she started to get out, then hesitated. She looked back at me, wanting to ask me to come in for a minute, wanting some sign from me that I would say yes.

If this were a letter from Penthouse, I would have given her that sign, and we would have gone into her house and had passionate sex all night long. If this were some heartwarming little Internet story, I would have gone in and we would have talked, fallen deeply in love, gotten married and lived happily ever after. If this were some Hollywood movie, I would have gone inside and been cut to ribbons as she turned into a psycho stalker. But this is the real world, and I have bills to pay, and groceries to buy. So I sat there, and she thanked me for the ride, and got out. I said something else lame, like "Take Care" and watched her as she went inside.

I drove on to work, wondering about the choices we face. Who do we help, and what price do we pay when we refuse? I said a short prayer for her as I drove off, asking God to help her find some peace tonight. I wish I could have done more.

Paging Dr Howard, Dr Fine, Dr. Howard!

Paging Dr Howard, Dr Fine, Dr. Howard! My puter is ailing, and is in the hospital for corrective surgery. The CD burner has an acute case of amnesia, having forgotten that it is a burner. It is convinced that it is a lowly CD-Rom drive, and nothing I did could change it's mind. So now it lies in the CPU ICU undergoing a peripheral transplant with a BIOS bypass. Wish us luck.

To compound the anxiety, my sons' computer is also on the sick list, requiring the computer equivalent of a heart transplant. Their power supply failed, making their computer into a large expensive paperweight/doorstop. It too is in the hospital. Obviously, posting will be light until the patients recover.

America's answer to the Swiss Army Knife

America's answer to the Swiss Army Knife I have a Swiss Army knife. It was given to me by my kids on a Christmas a long time ago. It's a useful little gadget, with hundreds of uses squeezed into a compact package. You have to admire those Swiss; thier ingenuity is unmatched.

Except by us.

We have developed a much simpler tool with far greater applicability that anything the Swiss ever envisioned. My Swiss Army knife is showing it's age. The toothpick and tweezers are long gone, the red plasitc sides have fallen off, and the spring on the scissors no longer springs. The wear and tear of daily use has taken it's toll. This is where the innovative nature of our American version truly shines. There are no moving parts to wear out or break off. This simple object can be used in virtually any field of endeavor: automaotive repair, medical therapy, safety engineering, construction, competitive sports, even in applied social sciences.

What is this miracle of American ingenuity?

Duct tape, of course!

One milllion and one uses, maybe more. Think about it; two guys using duct tape and a hammer can transform a twisted hunk of metal into a race winning car on the Nascar Winston Cup series, and do it in under 6 minutes Let's see you try that with a Swiss Army knife! Duct tape is not limited to structural repairs, but can also be used to make mechanical repairs. My Navy buddy's old Cougar XR-7 had it's passing gear held together with duct tape. I used duct tape once for an emergency repair on my car. My lower radiator hose had sprung a leak, so I bought a small roll of duct tape. I wrapped the leaky section of the hose with about three layers of tape, and off I went, good for another 3000-4000 miles.

But it isn't just for cars. Duct tape can work wonders on old, worn out furniture. If the fabric on your couch cushion splits, don't throw it away. Simply apply a layer of duct tape, and enjoy your couch for years to come.

But Rich, isn't that tacky?

In the hands of lesser men, sure, but I'm going to teach you how to make an invisible repair. First, remove the cushion. Then, turn the liner inside out. Repair the rip with an appropriate width of duct tape. Ensure the fabric completely covers the tape. Turn the liner right side out, and re-stuff. Walla! An invisible repair.

Duct tape should be carried in every first aid kit. In a pinch, it can be used as a bandage, a sling, or even a tourniquet.

Duct tape should be carried by all law enforcement oficers, to be used as handcuffs. A couple turns around the wrists, and the perp isn't going anywhere. It also makes a wonderful gag for those foul mouthed miscreants who won't shut up.

But all of these uses are self evident. I want to look at some of the more esoteric uses of duct tape. For example:

• Window pane replacement (commonly seen in your better trailer parks)
  
• Christmas tree decorations (no more of those annoying little hanger things)
  
• Pet hair remover (from your clothes, furniture, and from your pet)
  
• Do-it-yourself wiffle ball
  
• Replacement for your door matAn industrial strength no-pest strip
  
• Muffle for child's brass/woodwind instrument (essential for maintaining parental hearing. And sanity)
  
• A better mousetrap
  
• A better kitten trap
  
• Hair removal system (who needs Epilady?)
  
• Child safety restraint system (already legal in most southern states)
  

And the list goes on. Yes, duct tape is a wonderful thing. I remember an old TV show called MacGuyver, about a do-gooder who could improvise all kinds of neat stuff using his Swiss Army knife, some string he had in his pocket, a broken pencil stub with no eraser, two nickels, and a piece of chewing gum. The show was cancelled after a few seasons. Had he traded in his knife for a good roll of duct tape, he'd still be catching bad guys.

It's that time again!

It's that time again! Time for the Second East Tn Blogger's bash! I've sent out an e-mail to those of you who have given me one, placed comments strategically on other blogs, and am posting here, hoping to catch anyone I've missed. I'm aiming for the weekend of the 27th, but that is flexible, depending on everybodies schedule. Leave a comment here, or send me an e-mail of you're interested, and we'll figure out when and where we will meet. If you're not an East TN blogger, but happen to be passing through during the get-together, you're more than welcome to drop in and say hello.

Waiting in the wings?

Waiting in the wings? From FoxNews:

According to the U.S.-China Security Review Commission appointed by Congress in October 2000, the Chinese government has taken advantage of American friendliness to become a bigger threat than ever.

"It needs to be corrected, particularly today as China grows in economic and military strength, and the United States plays a very substantial role in contributing to that rise in military and economic strength," said C. Richard D'Amato, chairman of the U.S.-China Security Review Commission.

And more:

"We are concerned when we see constant rhetorical attacks on the United States, constant warnings to the United States, that if push comes to shove, China is perfectly happy to fight a war against us, and then to see a strategic doctrine from the Chinese military that lays out the ways in which they propose to win that war. That's very bothersome. You'd have to be an idiot not to take that seriously," said Michael Ledeen, vice chairman of the panel.

China's biggest limitation is her inability to move troops. In a defensive war, she has all the advantages, but she lacks the ability to project her power...at least, for now.

20 years for a traitor

20 years for a traitor Seems a little light to me:

John Walker Lindh, the young convert to Islam who left California and fought alongside the Taliban, pleaded guilty to two felonies Monday in a surprise deal that spares him life in prison and ensures his cooperation with terrorism investigators.
Lindh faces a maximum of 20 years in prison under the agreement struck between prosecutors and defense lawyers after a weekend of negotiations that ended after midnight — just hours before he was set to appear for court hearing.

I still think we should have allowed Afghanistan to extradite him, and let their justice system pronounce judgment. After all, his offences were aimed primarily at that country.

Does this bother anyone else?

Does this bother anyone else? From the Reuters report:

In addition, Bush would ask Congress to grant him the power to reorganize federal agencies in response to future crises. "The terrorist threat to America takes many forms, has many places to hide, and is often invisible," Bush warned.

Kinda broad, isn't it? Fortunately, I don't think Congress will let him get away with a power grab of this magnitude. Think about it this way: how would you respond if it were Clinton asking for this kind of power? Bush won't be president forever, and while you may or may not trust him with this kind of power, it is a dead certainty that eventually, we will have a president who cannot be trusted with this kind of power. Think Nixon, as another example.

How I spent my weekend

How I spent my weekend

Tennessee's Tax battles

Tennessee's Tax battles are reviewed in this article from The American Prowler:

But the story is not over. "They'll be back," says Valentine, and it seems the next chapter will be especially poisonous, largely due to acrimony surrounding the death of State Representative Keith Westmoreland.

The trouble began when Westmoreland, a pro-tax legislator, was arrested in Florida for indecent exposure. According to authorities, Westmoreland has flashed his privates at some girls at a swimming pool, and for his trouble he was deeply ridiculed by Valentine and Gill. Sadly, Westmoreland shot himself. Suddenly the talk show hosts found themselves in crosshairs of a different sort.

"One local commentator said I'd gone beyond the pale by calling him a pervert," says Valentine.

Typical 'unbiased reporting' in Tennessee. Don't blame the pervert, blame the guy who pointed it out.

Yeeesh.

New post

New post in And So It Goes, The Loves of My Life: Love on the Rocks

The year flew by, and then I went to join her at college. This caused some conflict at home, because my parents were worried that I had chosen my college just to be close to Lisa. My dad accused me of cheating him out the chance to visit colleges with me. I felt guilty over that, but I wanted to be with Lisa, so I didn't back down, and when fall rolled around, I went to join the love of my life.

College was great! I enjoyed the classes; the campus was wonderful, I joined a frat, and I had Lisa. But things were starting to unravel.

A Maxi-mini blog fest?

A Maxi-mini blog fest? This site is pushing an intimite meeting of bloggers on a global scale. I've signed up. Any other East Tn bloggers interested?

That's a good question!

That's a good question! Andrew Sullivan posts a good response to the critics of President Bush's policy towards Iraq:

Here's a simple test for the best liberal columnist in the country: if he were president and he were responsible for the security of American citizens, and if he had had a wake-up call like 9/11, how long would he sit around before he acted to prevent something far, far worse? And if that meant a difficult but necessary war against Saddam, on what grounds should a responsible president punt?

Succinctly put. Any takers?

Time to rant a bit

Time to rant a bit I was up early this afternoon, and caught a little of the local sports talk show on the radio. They were discussing the Augusta Country Club, and how there are no female members. Apparently some of the women's groups are trying to compel Augusta to admit female members. The first caller I heard said that it was a private club, and they could do whatever they wanted. The next caller compared Augusta National to the Taliban. The sad and scary thing was that he was serious. He honestly believes that a stuffy old group of men keeping their club private was the moral equivalent to stuffing women in burkas and stripping them of all their rights and dignity.

Folks, we've gone too far. Already, the government can tell us who to associate with, who we have to rent houses to, who we have to hire, who we can't fire, where our kids go to school, what they have to study there, what they aren't allowed to think while there, and so on. Yes, I know it's for a good cause, to combat racism and sexism and prejudice and bad body odor and what have you, but I think the cure is worse than the disease.

Let's look at this rationally for a change. I can't join Augusta. Chances are, you can't join Augusta. (If you can, how about loaning me a few bucks until next Thursday?)Even if I suddenly won the lottery tomorrow, and could afford a membership, I couldn't get in. They don't want me. Is this discrimination, or merely good taste on their part? Y'all read this blog; I'll let you judge. But it's their club; they get to make that choice. My mother's father played the course at Augusta as a guest. He was from a monied family in Memphis, and could afford the dues, but he couldn't be a member. His money wasn't old enough, I guess. His sister in law's husband, on the other hand, was a member. I guess his money must have smelled better.

All of this just goes to point out that Augusta is extremely choosy about who they admit to their club. But when does being picky about the people you associate with become prejudice? Is a policy that explicitly excludes women prejudiced? Or is it an attemot to maintain an atmosphere the members have built over the years, a heritage of sorts? I remember a women's college several years ago that was forced to open it's admissions to men for financial reasons. There was tremendous wailing and gnashing of teeth from the feminists, who moaned the loss of a unique resource for women. They said that women were losing a precious place, where they could learn and grow as women, withot the distracting presence of men. The students at the college shaved their heads, and held long vigils in protest of the college's decision. How is Augusta any different? Shouldn't men have the right to associate in a place free from the distracting presence of women without being accused of being chauvanists, or sexist pigs? Why is it that when women wish to exclude men, they are honored as revolutionaries, but when men want to exclude women, they are derided as repressive chauvanists?

It couldn't be a double standard, could it?

New post

New post in Battle of the Bulge The Rush is On! I tour a new gym.

Welcome to the newest Knoxville Blog!

Welcome to the newest Knoxville Blog! The Twelfth Parsec, a new tag team blog by Gray Hat & Dr. Heinrich Faust promises to be very interesting. In the first posts, they deconstruct a defense of post modernism, slam the Bush administration for pollution in the Smokies, and defend Gerhard Schroeder's attacks on Amercan business. Something tells me these two fall somewhat to my left on the political spectrum. But then again, who doesn't?

Check 'em out.

Too good to pass up

Too good to pass up This quote from Jay Nordlinger in NRO:

How much money would you pay to see the makers of The Last Temptation of Christ make a similar film about the Prophet Muhammad? How long would they be alive? An hour? An hour and fifteen minutes?

Found via Andrew Sullivan

Holidays at the Hailey Compound, part 2

Holidays at the Hailey Compound, part 2

The Explosives Yes, we also take part in the annual American ritual of setting off more explosives than used during the Revolutionary War. Fortunately, as I detailed earlier, access to these explosives is conveniently located right next to the gas station/minimart. My cousin and I went into the store, and purchased a small quantity of fireworks which we proceeded to load into his Expedition and take to the house. After our third truck load, we figured we had enough for the evening. Besides, we could always go back the next day for the post 4th sales, if we needed more.

I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but several years ago, I became the man in charge of setting off the fireworks. I think it happened when I came home with a couple of Navy buddies on leave, and we bought some fireworks to set off. I don't even think it was the 4th of July, but we just wanted to blow something up. We arranged a little show, setting everything up by the lake on a neighbors dock, and had a wonderful time. Ever since then, when it comes time to risk the loss of a minor body part, I was the designated victim.

Normally, I spend an hour or two setting up the show, placing the morters and the aerials, staging punks, flashlights and lighters, but I couldn't do much set up this year because we were in a weather pattern where it rained each night at about 7:30 , and then let up about 9:00. Obviously that would ruin any fireworks left out. So, I only had a half hour to set up the show before it got dark.

This year, I decided to do something different, and use a large table to set up the fireworks. That way I wouldn't have to be stooping over the tubes as I lit the fuses. I set up a couple of saw horses, then laid a 2'x6' sheet of 3/4" plywood between them. I set up my morters, and the first half of the aerials, and was ready to rock.

I thought.

Quick fact about a 2'x6' piece of plywood. It may seem rigid, but that bad boy is about as stable as Robin Williams on cocaine.

Everybody assembled for the show, and I lit off the first few displays with no problem. Then I set off the first brace of mortars. Now, I usually light three at a time to get a better effect. Fortunately, this time I was dealling with a stubborn fuse, and I only got one lit before having to move out of the way. When the mortar went off, the shell flew into the sky, as did the tumortar tube, and the two tubes beside it. That plank buckled under neath the impulse, and then sprang back, throwing fireworks everywhere. NOt a good thing. I stabilized the table, and moved the mortars to the ground and continued the show. Things were going fairly well, but there were a couple more surprises in store for me.

About 10 minutes into the show, I had just lit the fuse for a triple shot shell, and backed away about 10 feet for the blast. I heard the bang, but noticed something odd. The belch of flame I usually saw at the top of the tube as the shell exited was missing. I quickly realized that the shell had lodged in the tube, and we were about to witness a very bad thing. With cat like reflexes, I threw my body over the tube, absorbing the force of the explosion in my rock hard abs, saving the lives of the kids who were watching the show. I was a hero! OK, maybe not. Try this one:

Feeling like I was moving in slow motion, I ran over to the tube, picked it up and ran to the edge of the lake. I heaved the tube into the lake, and just as it hit the water, the shell detonated, showering me with water and bits of wet paper. I was a hero!

OK, so it wasn't exactly like that either. The truth this time: I froze and waited for the inevitable with my eyes closed.

Let me tell you about these new triple shells; they pack some punch. The tube was made of rolled cardboard, with a wall thickness of close to 1/2". When that shell blew, it destroyed the tube, and sent me back a step or two. It' was the first time I ever felt a blast impact. I once again have a profound respect for fireworks. I checked the kids and made sure they were OK, but couldn't find my youngest son, who had been helping me by holding the flashlight while I arranged things. The other kids were still there, but he had vanshed. Then he came walking around a bush about 10 feet away, looking scared, but unhurt. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than 5 seconds, so, near as I can figure, he teleported behingd the bush as soon as the sound of the explosion reached him. He came up to me and said,"Daddy, I know why you don't let me set off fireworks now. Thank you."

I was a little shaken, but the show must go on, and there were lots of fireworks left. I didn't set off anymore of that particualr shell tyoe, and we didn't have anymore incidents. I'm thinking about retiring from the fireworks game, and passing it on to somebody a little younger, a little quicker, a littel dumber. Of course, after a year passes, I'll be raring to go again. I've already figured out how to brace the table, stabilize the mortars, and I'm working on a way to remote detonate the fireworks, like the pros do.

And coming back to Nednow and the Pledge

And coming back to Nednow and the Pledge we now find out that his daughter, she of the offended sensibilities, is in fact a devout Christian!

According to information, the man who filed the legal suit in June did so against the wishes of his daughter and her mother, both of which identify themselves as Christians and attend a Calvary Chapel.

By identifying themselves as Christians, the daughter presumably didn't become uncomfortable when reciting or objected to the Pledge of Allegiance - an action that directly contradicts the essence of the lawsuit.

Hmmmm. Using your child against her wishes to advance your own agenda....pretty crappy parenting technique if you ask me.

First Amendment again

First Amendment again AC Douglas levels a pretty serious charge in the comments following my first post on this subject.

In fact, it's so nonsensical I'm beginning to think you purposely put it forward in that way just to see what sort of replies it would generate.

'Fess up now. You were just funnin', right?

Me? Post something outrageous just to get a response? How dare you say such a thing! Why that would be....the essense of blogging! Guilty as charged.

But.

The argument still stands, and I've moved it up here, where I can spread out a bit. OK, it seems preposterous to allow a child to suffer and die, based on her parent's religious beliefs. But as I pointed out, absurdity is often codified into law, just as in the example I gave. Some of the charges against Richard Reid were dropped because the legal definition of mass transportation does not include passenger aircraft. Certainly this is an absurd reading of a statute, but the ruling will stand. Merely calling an interpretation absurd says nothing about its legal merit.

However, let's address your argument about doctors. You say that if my interpretation were correct, that doctors could choose to deny treatment to patients of certain faiths, based on their first amendment rights. This is not the case, even under my interpretation of the first amendment. Doctors are licensed by each state, not the federal government, and the state licensing process includes the requirement that doctors will treat all patients, regardless of race , creed, etc and so forth. In fact, licensed medical professionals are required to give treatment in emergency situations, even if they are not on call. Paramedics, for example, are required to stop to render first aid at the scene of an accident, even if they are off duty. (Of course, this is an unenforceable law, because if they didn't stop, nobody would ever know. But that is beside the point.)

There is no first amendment conflict here because nobody is required to become a doctor. They can choose not to agree to the conditions, and forgo licensing. If they choose to practice medicine, they voluntarily cede some of their first amendment protections, similar to the way folks entering the armed service cede some of their rights.

Now, let's look at the other side of the coin. If the state has the right to intervene in matters of religious faith, then what limits that right? You suggest that when the faith has the potential to cause damage to minors under the care of the practitioner, then the state has the right to intervene. Is it merely physical damage that allows the state to intervene, or can the state move in the event of emotional or psychological damage? Telling a child he is a sinner could certainly be considered as emotional abuse, yet that is a core element of most Christian faiths. Should that be grounds for state intervention? How about financial damages? If a parent is tithing heavily to a church, reducing the income available to support his child, should the state be able to intervene then? How about faiths which renounce worldly goods, requiring their members to give away all possessions and live a life of poverty? Should the state take their children away?

Let's look at things from the mother's point of view now. She believes that earthly life is small potatoes compared to heavenly life. She believes that what happens to our physical bodies is irrelevant, that our souls are what really matter. She believes that we must submit to God's will, and allow his plans to come to pass in our lives. These are standard Christian tenets, but she applies them to her life and her daughter's life with a rigor we cannot match. We profess as Christians to believe the same things as she does, but when we get ill, we don't turn to God, we turn to Marcus Welby, MD. My personal belief is that God helps those who help themselves, and that doctors and medicines are resources He put here for our benefit, but that's just me. Her faith and belief is different. Do I have the right to force her to live by my beliefs?

Finally, let's make a slight change in the case, and see if your reponse is any different. Suppose that, instead of faith, she had relied on some non-traditional treatment for her child. Instead chemo and radiation and surgery, suppose she had opted for a homeopathic therapy combined with nutritional supplements. These are not cancer treatments that are recognized by the medical community, in fact, the AMA is working to regulate those who practice these therapies out of existence. Does a parent have the right to chose which treatment she thinks is best for her child?

Scenes from the Holidays: The Hailey Way

Scenes from the Holidays: The Hailey Way The stories you are about to read are 100% true. Some of the names have been changed, and I may exaggerate a point or two, but folks, I couldn’t make this stuff up. Be forewarned that this story contains scenes of violence, including a catfight or two, but little or no sex. Remember, this is my life we’re talking about here.

The Barbeque Like many southerners, we have a tradition on the 4th of July weekend of barbequing. Now some folks might just buy their barbeque already cooked and pulled, or just do a few slabs of ribs, but that wouldn’t be our style. We have relatives come over from Nashville, and over the course of the weekend, we might have 20-30 people show up on any given day, so we usually build a fire pit and roast 5 or six pork shoulders and butts.

There is an art to roasting butts, and it all starts with the fire pit. Through years of experimentation, we have developed the ultimate in knock-down, do-it-yourself fire pit construction. First, you find a level, grassy area on the lawn; somebody else’s preferably, but you can use your own in a pinch. Just move the 63 Chevy on blocks, and build your pit there. After the holiday is over, or before snow falls, you can move the car back, and eliminate the inevitable eyesore. Be careful not to build the pit in the oil slick under the engine block; the oil will give the meat a bad flavor.

A lot of folks will dig their pits, but that’s just way too much work. Your best bet is to use some concrete foundation blocks you grabbed from a nearby construction site. Arrange the blocks in two layers of 9 blocks, forming three sides of a square. The rear wall of the pit has to contain a vent and a chimney, to allow the fire to get enough oxygen. A Budweiser short bottle placed under the center brick in the rear wall makes for the perfect vent. Place the second brick over the vent brick with the hollow section facing vertically. This forms your chimney.

Lay a piece of fencing over the second layer of blocks, and support with rebar. Place a third layer of block to hold the fencing in place, and you’ve constructed your basic pit. Now you need a reflector to cover the pit, and a front wall. We’ve found that an aluminum traffic sign makes the perfect reflector for your pit, and you can find them along any roadside, just waiting for you to dig up and haul off. For the front wall, a ¾” piece of plywood is just the ticket. With a little scrounging, you can complete your pit in a couple of hours, with little or no cash outlay. Next, you have to fire it.

Now shoulders and butts need to cook slowly, so you can’t have an open fire underneath the meat, so you build a bonfire near the pit. This bonfire is built in the traditional manner. First you wad up paper, and place it in a small pile. Next, you stack small twigs and branches in a pyramid over the paper. Then you build a small structure of dried limbs and branches. Once you arrange this pile, you light the paper with a butane lighter, and enjoy the beginnings of a glorious bonfire.

Five minutes later, as the last ember goes out, you cuss, wad twice as much paper and shove it under your kindling, scour the yard for some dead leaves, settled for some that looked sickly, and light off your glorious bonfire again.

Five minutes later, you realize that you aren’t Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett, and you get McGhee’s Famous Firestarter, also known as 87-octane gasoline, and liberally douse your stack of kindling. Next, you light the gas-soaked wood with a match.

Here’s an interesting tidbit about liquid gasoline: It doesn’t burn well. In fact, you could pour gasoline on a flame and it would put out the flame. Gas vapor, on the other hand, burns exceptionally well, so when you touch the match to the wood, nothing will happen.

For a moment.

Then, in a roar worthy of a mama bear rescuing her cub, the fumes located directly above the match will ignite. Since you are in all likelihood leaning over the fire at this particular time, the fumes directly over the match are usually directly around your upper body. Much hilarity for all onlookers ensues as you do your best “Michael Jackson on Fire” impression, dancing around, putting out your eyebrows, hair, mustache, and eyelashes.

Now your fire is lit, and you begin to place more logs on the fire. As the logs burn down, you shovel the burning embers and place them in the bottom of your pit. Of course some slide off of the shovel during transport, which means that it is best to wear shoes anywhere in the vicinity of the path between the fire, and the pit. Some folks ignore this precaution claiming that their feet are tough and if Polynesian chicks can walk on fire, then bigod so can they. These folks are usually inebriated when they make this claim, so it’s best to leave them alone, and let them discover the error of their ways in their own time. Besides, if their hangover is as bad as you know it is going to be, a little thing like third degree burns on the soles of their feet won’t even be noticed for at least a week.

Build up a bed of coals under the pit, then place your butts on the grill and baste with a marinade. Since you have probably been marinating yourself as well, it is advisable at this point to note that the butts placed on the grill should be the pork butts, and not your own. A word to the wise from the voice of experience.

Now, your meat is on the grill, and cooking. Now all you have to do is turn it every half hour for 8-10 hours, and you’re done. You now have enough food to feed an army, and you are starving yourself. Unfortunately, you’ve been smelling the pork roasting for 10 hours straight, and the last thing you want to do is taste it, so you bag the shoulders and throw them into the freezer, and everybody orders pizza.

The Pool What is it about a swimming pool that brings out the child in all of us? Splashing in the cool water, dicing in from the deep end, seeing the sun sparkle off the waves, burning your feet on the 110 degree pavement, all of these things remind us of our days as a child. We forget that we are getting older, and that our bodies do not spring back from abuse as quickly as they once did.

We get stupid.

I was in the pool, lazing around, minding my own business, when my younger brother challenged me to a dunking contest. I figured he was joking, so I told him to bring it on. What I had neglected to consider was that there was a woman there he wanted to impress.

So here we were, two men approaching 40 years of age, trying to dunk one another like two 18 year old bucks trying to win the girl. The battle was an epic one. He scored first, dunking my with a quick shove on top of my neck, then I caught him with a power move that took us both under. Score 2-1 favor him. We circled for a moment, regaining our wind, then went at it again. We were both a little more cautious, searching for an advantage, or a sign of weakness, grappling in the middle of the pool. The kids had all evacuated the area, trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. I got him again, barely, and the score was tied, 2 apiece. We agreed on one more fall for the championship.

The other adults were watching, laughing at us and calling out something, but I couldn’t hear them. I was battling for pride now. I saw an opportunity, and feinted to my left. He lunged to block, and I made my patented power move right and got around behind him. I wrapped him up in a bear hug and lifted him clear of the water for a double back suplex with a half twist. I won 3-2. The victory was short lived, however, as he still impressed his girl, and all I got was a sore neck.

There’s more to come, but it will have to wait for tomorrow.

First amendment revisited

First amendment revisited Right on the heels of the "Under God" controversy comes this story about a local girl with cancer

A Loudon County mother is accused of putting too much faith in prayer and not enough in the medical community in the treatment of a "basketball-sized" cancerous growth afflicting her daughter.

Jacqueline Pearl Crank, 41, has been charged with aggravated child abuse for allegedly failing to seek treatment for her 15-year-old daughter after being advised by medical personnel to do so, authorities said Friday.

Crank was arrested late last week at the Loudon County home she shared with her daughter and at least 11 other people, including the pastor of the religious group of which Crank is a member. She is being held in the Loudon County Jail.

Loudon County Sheriff Tim Guider said Friday prosecutors are considering whether to file charges against "other adults" living in the home who were aware of the girl's condition. He did not say whether the group's leader, Ben Sherman, is one of those adults who could face charges.

OK, let's refresh ourselves on the relevant text

I Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof

It doesn't say "free exercise thereof, except when we disagree with it," or "free exercise thereof, as long as it doesn't interfer with modern medicine," or even "free exercise thereof, except when we think the believers are whack jobs." But the same folks who throw a conniption at the slightest whiff of religious content in our government are more than willing to trample the first amendment rights of believers they disagree with.

Here it is plain and simple; the first phrase is written fairly narrowly. Congress cannot act to establish an official state religion. That's all. The second clause is much broader. Congress cannot write any law which restricts the free exercise of any religion. Period. Simple words, folks, easy to understand, even if we don't like the implications. The same words which allow for use of illegal substances in Native American religious ceremonies allows this mother to chose the manner of care for her daughter. It is a central tenet of her faith that prayer is the best medicine, and that submission to the will of God is absolute. If God wants her child to live, she will; if God wants her child to die, she will. The failure to seek medical care for her daughter is a logical extension of that tenet, and is protected under the first amendment.

The argument on the other side is that the mother's first amendment rights end when they begin to cause injury to her daughter. The flaw in this argument is that it assumes that the physical well being of the child is more important than the spiritual well being, an assumption which is contrary to the first amendment, which clearly values the spiritual freedom as highly, if not more highly than physical freedon. Consider that the Constitution acts to limit the expression of many physical freedoms, yet in unambiguous language does not allow ANY restriction on spiritual freedoms.

A Must Have

A Must Have I don't generally do reviews in this space, but I heard a track on my way in to work tonight that really fired me up. One of our local radio stations, WOKI has a show on Sunday nights called the Americana Cafe. Tonight, they played a cut from Dolly Parton's newest album, Halos and Horns. Believe it or not, the track was Stairway to Heaven, and it was outstanding! She took this rock icon and made it her own, while remaining faithful to the original. Quoting from an interview with dolly posted on this fansite:

It was a song I loved and a song that [husband] Carl loved. We used to love it together. To me, it’s like "After the Goldrush." It’s an abstract song. You really don’t know what it means. It sounds Old World. On the last couple of albums, I did "Shine," "I Get a Kick Out of You" and "Traveling Prayer," so everybody is expecting me to do something "different" on this album, too. Well, I’m the only person to have the nerve to deal with classics. That’s why I took it, ad-libbed it and made it more spiritual.

I didn’t do it just for the gimmick – my love for the song comes from a very real place. It’s not just about making it work – it’s about it really being a part of you. So I thought, "What the hey – I’m just going to go with it, and if it didn’t turn out good, nobody would ever know I even tried it." I knew I was walking on sacred ground because it is a classic.

But any time you make a change in lyrics or in my case the ad-libs, you have to get an OK from the writers and publisher. I was scared to death to send it to Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. They sent word back that it was fine and they loved it. In fact, Robert Plant said he’d always thought of it as a spiritual song, and he was thrilled we’d used a choir on it, because he thought about that, too. If they like it, that’s most important to me. But I do hope the public will accept it too. I even hope they love it.

I can't help but think that this will be a tremendous crossover hit for Dolly. I've never been a big fan of hers, but I will buy this album when it comes out July 9th. If you like Dolly, check out Dollymania.

New post in Battle of

New post in Battle of the Bulge: I Survived the Holiday!

Hillary's House of Hillbilly Love (and Bait Shop)

Hillary's House of Hillbilly Love (and Bait Shop)

I don't have time to date. More specifically, I don't have time to look for a date. I stopped and figured it up one morning on my way home from work, and I realized that after work, commuting, working out, taking care of the house, running the kids here and there, not to mention blogging for you people, I have about 45 minutes a month left over for dating. And that's only if I skip a few showers here and there, and sleep for only three hours a night. If by some strange twist of fortune I actually engage in nocturnal carnal activities on this date, that reduces the available time for seeking a partner to about 42 minutes.

So you see the bind I'm in.

I've tried to maximize my opportunities for meeting eligible women, but the opportunities are limited. I refuse to flirt at work, being a firm believer in the ancient Chinese tradition which says you don't chase your honey where you get your money. I'd flirt at the gym, but the women there are either too old, too young, too big, or too strong. (Yikes!) I'd flirt at Walmart, with the rest of Sevier County, but most of the single women there are looking for husbands, not boyfriends, and I've already walked that road.

So, I usually rely on the time honored tradition of seeking out remunerated companionship at "Hillary's House of Hillbilly Love (and Bait Shop)"* Unfortunately that option grows less attractive, as do the women involved, particularly since I don't drink. I know they say that all cats are black in the dark, but it just doesn't get that dark. Believe me, it doesn't.

So, I've decided on a new approach, one that seems sure to maximize my opportunities, while minimizing the time required:

I'm entering the world of computer dating!

I signed up with a website last night that sounded perfect for me, Madame Mabel's On-line Matchmaker and Pharmaceutical Supplies** One stop shopping at its finest! I filled out the forms on their site, sent in the twenty bucks, then wrote my ad. Now I believe in truth in advertising, but I also believe in UFO's Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and that there may be a virgin in Georgia older than 13, even though I've never seen any of these things. So I used all of my creativity, along with liberal amounts of poetic license, and came up with the following:

Looking for Mr. Right? Then keep looking sister!

Handsome middle aged man with all his teeth and hair seeks young female with same for long term relationship. (Actually the teeth are optional. I don't want to limit myself unnecessarily.) Looks are unimportant to me (although if you look like Pamela Anderson, that's a big plus) and they better be to you. I'm more interested in what's inside you than the surface, and look forward to exploring that in great length. If you want to know what I look like, picture a cross between Tom Selleck and Harrison Ford. Got it? OK, I don't look a thing like that. You should be employed, but still have the energy to come over to my place and clean it up from time to time.

I enjoy hiking,. camping, swimming, bowling, and hyunting, so don't expect me to be around the house very much.

I'm not looking for one night stands; I believe you should really get to know, like, and respect a person before you tie them to your bed and whip them, but I'm getting ahead of myself. That stuff can wait until the second date.

Mostly, I'm looking for someone to talk to, who understands the way I think, and agrees with everything I say. If this is you, respond to this box, and I promise I'll reply quickly, especially if you include a nekkid picture of yourself.

*We now carry fireworks!
** Us too!

We'll blow it up for you, wholesale!

We'll blow it up for you, wholesale! Neighbors, I have to tell you that I'm a little worried about our situation here. There's a deadly peril out there that destroys marriages, ruins your health, damages your hearing, and can leave life long scars on your deck and lawn. It's a vice that's easy to acquire and hard to shake; no need for long trips into the bad part of town, just go to your corner gas station. This time of year, you don't even have to go that far. Pushers have set up tents everywhere, dealing right out in the open! They'll do anything to satisfy your habit, as long as you can pay their price.

I'm talking about fireworks, folks, and it's a scary thing.

Once again, it's July 4th and fireworks are EVERYWHERE. The outlets like Big Daddies and Fireworks Superstore (Fireworks Live on DVD!) are bad enough, advertising their wares, FIREWORKS and BEER, like these two things belong together. The scary part is that in some folks mind, they do. I walked in the other day just to check it out, and one of the clerks, a refuge from the set of Deliverance walked up to me and asked what I wanted. I told him I was just looking around, getting an idea of what I wanted to get for the 4th. We talked a little bit about some of the different displays, then he looked at me kind of sideways, hitched a little closer, and told me if I didn't see what I wanted, to ask him. He had some "special stuff" out back that he thought I'd appreciate.

I hope he was talking about fireworks.

Even worse are the fly-by-night folks, who appear magically out of nowhere like a redneck version of Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show,setting up big tents by the side of the road, promising thrills and bedazzlements, and selling explosives by the truckload. After the flash and bang of the 4th, they'll disappear again and be a distant memory come the 5th. But never fear, they return each year to feed the insatiable Southern appetite for the smell of sulfur and the flash of fire.

Worst are the black market guys, who sell the illegal stuff. They can be found hanging around the edges of the "legitimate outlets, and specialize in M-80s and sticks of dynamite. No fancy colors, or streamers from these guys. Nope, they are into serious destruction and firepower. Want to see a toilet fly 10 feet into the air? How about watching a garbage can become tinfoil? Then this is your man.

That reminds me of an old joke, about a good old boy out fishing with a game warden. The good old boy pulled out a stick of dynamite, lit the fuse and tossed it into the water. When it blew up, a tremendous geyser of water showered both men, and several stunned fish floated to the surface. Our hero calmly scooped the fish into the boat while the game warden looked on aghast.

"Earl," he said, "I am aghast! You know that's illegal! I can't believe you'd pull something like that in front of me."

Earl looked up as he tossed him a lit stick of dynamite and said,

"Are you going to argue, or are you going to fish?"

There's something about southerners and blowing stuff up that seems to go together. Sadly, we aren't always too particular what we blow up. Once we get started, it just seems like the bigger the bang, the better.

"C'mon now, honey, we needed a new truck anyway; besides, did you see the size of that fireball?"

Often we aren't real careful either. The two most dangerous times in a southern boy's life are hunting season and the Fourth of July, when the death cry of the Southern White-bellied Redneck "Hey, Bubba! Watch this!" echoes through the hills with dismaying frequency.

Neighbors, I urge you to try and keep your children from this vice. Protect the little darlings from the cheap allure of mass destruction. Keep them away from the fireworks counter, and have them read a good book instead. You may avert a terrible tragedy, like what happened last year when a young man almost lost his life in a tragic firecracker related incident. He was reaching for the last 100 Shot Saturn Missile Battery with Whistle and Report, and I needed it for my display. I'm happy to report that he will recover almost completely, and you can barely notice the limp. But the next kid might not be so lucky.

Biblical Justice sounds good here

Biblical Justice sounds good here The facts of the matter are here.
I was writing a long piece on this, imagining what the kids went through while Tara Raynor whiled away the hours in the beauty parlor, and how she felt when she found her kids dead in the car, but I just got too angry. What really gets to me is her reaction when she found her kids dead in the car. She didn't try to save them, or help them, or even mourn them. She drove around for awhile, trying to come up with a good excuse for how she let her kids die.

I'm no longer a believer in the death penalty, but I think I could make an exception for her.

Housecleaning continues.

Housecleaning continues. How do you like the new picture?

A little housecleaning

A little housecleaning I'm trying to dress up the page a bit, seeing what I can figure out from reading the source code. Just a couple minor changes tonight: I've changed the background color to reduce eyestrain, and I've noticed that most of you are reading this page with a 1024 screen rez, so I'm changing the template a bit to take advantage of that. If this causes anybody else problems, let me know, and I'll make more adjustments.

New post

New post in And So It Goes, Everybody's Working for the Weekend

New post

New post in Strafing Runs, To Be or Not to Be

A rare show of sanity

A rare show of sanity The youngest homicide bomber had to be bullied into carrying out his assignment.

She already knew that the 16-year-old schoolboy had blown himself and two Israelis apart outside a cafe near Tel Aviv five weeks ago. Last week, to add to her anguish, she discovered that he had been bullied into committing the atrocity by his terrorist masterminds after he wavered at the last minute.
Issa Budeir was persuaded to murder despite last-minute qualms
"He was too young to understand these things. He was just a boy," said Mrs Budeir. "If I had known these people were sending him to Tel Aviv to conduct this operation, I would have done anything to stop it. I would have locked him in his room.
"My life has collapsed. I had dreamed of seeing my beloved son grow up, go to university, find a wife, have his own children. Now that hope has gone for ever. I feel sick; I feel empty. I will have this bitterness inside me for the rest of my life."

The Islamofascists are destroying their own future by creating a culture which worships death.

It's the Principle of the matter!

It's the Principle of the matter! Not the principal. I found this story via FoxNews PC Patrol, but the link they give doesn't work, so I did a quick search, and found this link. You'll have to scroll about half way down to find this little gem:

Sahuaro High Principal Steve Wilson is a big-time college basketball referee who should be benched for his crummy management of the eastside school he was hired to put right. Wilson went way out of bounds last week, crying to the Tucson Unified School District board to fire Sahuaro math teacher Steven Bloodsworth, who sought a restraining order against a freshman given to violent outbursts.

Not just any freshman. But a 6'3" kid who is the next Sahuaro "franchise" basketball player. After threats and intimidation, Bloodsworth bounced the kid, who returned to his room to issue a threat and smash a glass in a door.

Wilson and Delano Price, who has settled into yet another assistant principal's position, claimed Bloodsworth's actions were uncalled for and constituted intolerable insubordination.

Bloodsworth called Wilson's bluff and demanded an open hearing before the TUSD board. But Wilson went wild, saying Bloodsworth and an unnamed parent were perpetrating an "extremely bigoted, zealous, racist attack on a young man."

"The way these two people are acting, I think, is almost like Mississippi in '54 only without the rope," Wilson said.

Equating a restraining order with a lynching....and he calls himself a principal?