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« April 2006 |
Main
| June 2006 »
Does anyone know what is going on with the plastic packaging thing? Just about everything I buy now is hermetically sealed in two inch thick plastic. This is being done for one of three reasons, that I can see:
1. Manufacturers know that eventually some of their packages will spill out of the cargo ship and so need to withstand the pressures of life at 50,000 feet below sea level
2. Manufacturers are just being cautious; you never know when anthrax might somehow get into one of those things
3. Manufacturers are trying to kill their customers
Although it's a tough call, I'm pretty sure it's option three. That's my educated guess because every time I try to open one of these packages I end up cutting an artery and almost bleeding to death. It doesn't matter how careful I am, or what sort of tool I'm using ("hacksaw," "blow torch") since it always happens. I thought for a minute that it might be me since I'm not exactly "gifted" in the use of tools, be they hacksaws or blow torches. But then I read this article, courtesy Consumer Reports, and I realized I wasn't alone.
I think it's time to go back to brown baggies.
A while ago I came across these cool photos of Hurricane Katrina some time ago, and bookmarked them to write about at some future date. The photo above is my favorite. You can find the article and a few other photos here.
I'm thinking about creating another website. It would be a cross between a portal and a weblog. I'm not sure I can come up with a buzzword more annoying and repulsive than "blog" but maybe we could call it a "plog." Or a "poblog," "polog," or "portog." In any event, it would be something else to do between 1:30 and 3 a.m.
Why would I want to add something else to do between 1:30 and 3 a.m.? THAT is a great question. Ordinarily I would just chalk it up to brain damage, but no...this time it's something more.
I've been a huge fan of Disney World for a long time. My earliest Disney memories are a bit clouded by age. I remember three distinct images from my youth during our one (and only) family trip to Disney.
The first is me standing next to some ginormous bipedal animal. Back in the day the Disney Characters were all 12' tall. In fact Disney could only hire former NBA stars to dress in the costumes, and even then they used stilts. I know the Characters are supposed to look cute and cuddly, but when they first started out they were a little rough around the edges. That, and I was smaller because I was younger. And, after we did the photograph thing Mickey ate my sister. So it was all a little weird, but very memorable.
The second image is reading the sign for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. You have to understand that at the time I was a horrible coaster sissy. I mean, Scream-Like-A-Girl sissy. But my family had convinced me that Big Thunder Mountain Railroad (BTMR) was this calm little railroad ride. We got in line and then I saw The Sign:
"ATTENTION: Anyone who has any heart condition, back condition, loose bones, bruises, a really bad cough, hemorrhoids, dry mouth, flatulence, freckles, allergies to dust, soy or peanuts, or has hair should reconsider before boarding this ride."
Just as I read that last part, "ride," the BTMR came SCREAMING past the guest line. It was moving 112 mph if it was moving five. I felt my bones go loose and I looked around, but there was no escape. That, and my father rapped me on the head with his fist (which made a noise like "bonk") (my head, not his fist) and said "Money doesn't grow on trees you know!"
The third image is me now on BTMR. I was in a cart with my father. My hands had fused on the "safety bar" in front of me and my eyes had sort of rolled into the back of my head, so I couldn't see very well. The ride was fine except when the BTMR would turn. If it turned the right way, things were okay. If it turned the wrong way, my father would slide towards me and crush me under his immense father-like frame. (He would then rap me on the head with his first and yell over the noise of the ride: "Money doesn't grow on trees you know!")
After all of this, I'm sure you now know why I want to create a new Disney-related website between the hours of 1:30 and 3 a.m. But what to call it? I went through the obvious choices, like "Yet Another Website About Disney World That Will Eventually Get A Cease-and-Desist Letter" or "Carl's Disney Site." But none of them felt right. Where was the magic? The joy?
So then I came up with this idea - are you sitting? - to call it "Cloud Nine and a Half." Actually, I was going to call it "Cloud Nine and Seven Eighths" but that's only because it was 3 a.m. at the time. But...I don't know. I'm still thinking about it. If you have a great, free, non-trademarked or copyrighted, not-owned-by-Disney name idea leave it in the comments. In the meantime, you can watch http://www.carlschaad.com/wdw/ for new developments. No there's nothing there now stop that. Check after 3 a.m. tonight.
Money doesn't grow on trees you know. (BONK.)
 You all know what that means. Three Day Weekend + Nice Weather + No Where To Go = House Painting.
At first I thought I was going to escape the whole painting thing. It started out last week with Alert Reader Tammy dropping subtle hints here and there. "I'm going to buy some paint." "What do you think of this color for the living room?" "I need to pick up some rollers and drop cloths FOR THE PAINTING THAT WILL OCCUR THIS WEEKEND." Needless to say, these hints were far too subtle for me. To my credit, I suspected that something was going to happen in the near future, and that it probably involved paint in some way.
As the weekend drew ever closer, not unlike that giant shark in Jaws that was so large and foreboding that it had its own theme music, things began to come into focus. And then, all of a sudden like, it hit me: WE'RE PAINTING THIS WEEKEND?! It was a total shock. I had just gotten back from the video store with a handful of mindless video games and planned to beat up deserving evil minions for three days straight.
To Alert Reader Tammy's credit, she DID say that I didn't need to get involved. But since there's no way I'd rather spend a three-day weekend than by TAPING THE WALLS I volunteered for that part. I saw a paint-taping commercial recently and like a lemming went to the store, found the product I had been brainwashed to buy, and began taping the ways. I almost always use too much tape, and tape things that never, EVER, should be taped, but I did apologize to Mysty and the vet says the hair will grow back in a few months.
After the room was taped the painting started. It turns out that Alert Reader Tammy had picked "Crusty Copper" or some such color and after painting she showed me how well it did NOT match anything we owned. Not only anything we owned in the actual room being painted. I mean anything we owned ANYWHERE IN THE HOUSE. Some may say this was just a random sort of thing, but I know it was planned so that I would have to get involved with the painting.
"You painted two walls 'Crusty Copper' just to get me involved, didn't you?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
So we sat down with the paint swatches and picked two new colors. We decided half of the room would be painted "Hershey® Chocolate" and the other half would be painted "Coma Beige." Together they would be guaranteed to please and give you a candy craving.
After painting the room we decided we would check the Memorial Day Furniture Sales for any furniture made specifically for Hershey's Chocolate. As luck would have it, we found the perfect couch! Apparently the color we picked has to be hand-made by Keebler® elves though and won't arrive for 6-8 weeks.
That's just enough time for me to recover from taping the walls and for Mysty to start looking like a cat again.
The first tropical storm of the East Pacific season has arrived. Tropical Storm Aletta has formed south of Acapulco, Mexico and is showing up rather well on this satellite image on the AccuWeather.com hurricane center. It's currently forecasted to track north and then bounce off of Mexico and head out to sea. FOXNews has an article here.
The names for the East Pacific Tropical Season are:
Aletta, Bud, Carlotta, Daniel, Emilia, Fabio, Gilma, Hector, Ileana, John, Kristy, Lane, Mirian, Norman, Olivia, Paul, Rosa, Sergio, Tara, Vicente, Willa, Xavier, Yolanda, Zeke
As a Public Blog Service™ I decided to call emergency management agencies in all of the lower 48 and see how preparations are coming for Hurricane Season (which begins officially on June 1 with the cutting of the Hurricane Ribbon in Africa.) Unfortunately, the State of Hurricane Preparation is somewhat mixed.
Now, I'm NOT saying "Everyone Panic!" There will be time for that in two weeks. I'm just trying to point out that the ribbon cutting will be occurring soon and I KNOW some of you are procrastinators (we both know who you are) but increased activity we've seen from the Atlantic, and the vendetta of the J.M., it's really not something to put off.
According to Chuck Watson of Kinetic Analysis Corp., a Savannah, Georgia risk assessment firm, New Orleans "is the U.S. city most likely to be struck by hurricane force winds during the 2006 storm season." Reuters has the article here. Apparently there's a 30% chance it will get hit by a hurricane, and a 10% chance of it being a category 3 or better. Watson worked with University of Central Florida statistics professor Mark Johnson.
They also have some things to say about oil disruption and some other top targets.
NOAA photo of just a small section of New Orleans flooded by Katrina
UPDATE: PDF of Oil Production Forecast here. Interesting in you're into that sort of thing.
Today's the anniversary of the telegraph message sent by Samuel Morse in the Supreme Court room in Washington, D.C. to his assistant Alfred Vail in Baltimore, MD. It was sent on May 24, 1844.
For an extra 1,000 blog points*, do you know what message he sent?
Links: Wikipedia Morse Entry | Morse Message Photo | Big Photo Version
(*As Drew would say, the points don't matter. That's right, the points are like the nutrition facts on a box of Twinkies.)
I was quite excited when I learned there was going to be a super power camp, until I found out that it was run by the church of Scientology. I mean, no offense to scientologists in the audience - I was just expecting that it would be run by the Super Friends or something.
I don't know a lot about Scientology, other than it involves jumping on furniture (preferably famous talk show host's furniture), not letting delivering women scream and telling Brooke Shields she's absolutely and totally wrong about whatever it is that she thinks she's right about. And I only know these things because it's what Tom Cruise and the media have told me. Given this was all I knew, and that Super Powers were at stake, I looked into it a little more.
I checked Wikipedia, font of obscure knowledge that it is, to get the inside scoop. While there was no mention of Brooke Shields, Oprah was quoted extensively. I learned that Scientology has its own cruise ship (The U.S.S. Asbestos) and that 75 million years ago the alien ruler Xenu "brought billions of people to Earth, stacked them around volcanoes and blew them up with hydrogen bombs." I know that sounds like that one issue of Buck Rogers but no it happened 75 million years ago before there were comics (try to keep up.)
So now that I was extremely versed in Scientology I had to decide if I should go to the camp or not. And what it really boils down to is - what sort of super powers would I get for my hard earned money? Although these things are very hush-hush, I think I probably have a few options:
1. The Super Power to jump on furniture. I already do this pretty well.
2. The Super Power to shush screaming delivering women. This could be very dangerous.
3. The Super Power to know when Brooke Shields is wrong about something. This would be cool, but useful? Not sure.
4. The Super Power to stack people around volcanoes and blow them up with hydrogen bombs. Okay, I'm in!
So all I need to know now is where to send my check. If you're interested in not being stacked by a volcano and blown up after I complete my course, send me an email. If I don't hear from you...well, I can't be held responsible.
 Tonight (Tuesday night) I had an opportunity to get together with some friends and I learned that clowns have secret clown names. Did you know this? I didn't know this.
I'm still conducting some research, but this entry from Wikipedia mentions that clowns prefer funny names:
"Note that a clown would likely choose the word pastrami rather than corned beef, because pastrami is a funny word and corned beef is not. So clowns prefer: monkey wrenches to "spanners", doohickeys to "gadgets", kitchen gadgets to "small appliance" and monikers to "nicknames."
Personally I find the word "doohickey" to be hilarious, so I suppose I can understand that. But why not call a small appliance a "kitchen doohickey?"
This idea that names are important appeals to the sci-fi/fantasy fan in me. And I mean fan in probably the most geeky-monkey-wrench sort of way. A good sci-fi example that everyone can probably relate to is Darth Vader.
I can still remember sitting in the theatre as a nine-year old and watching the original Star Wars movie, which has since been renamed from Star Wars to Star Wars: The Original Movie Episode Four of Six. (This was done to avoid some confusion with other Star Wars movies.) Even though I was only nine I already had a good command of the German Language. So when they introduced Darth Vader I was floored by the genius of George Lucas. I mean, Darth Vader! Darth meaning "dark," of course, and Vader meaning "potato." Not only was he a dark potato, but he stank too. If you remember, in the beginning of the movie Princess Leia says that she smelled Vader's (Potato's) stench when he came on board her ship. And as everyone who's ever cleared out a pantry knows, a rotten potato can be pretty darn stinky, and messy, and they usually have those tentacles growing everywhere making them look like they are from another galaxy.
Of course, Darth Vader didn't start out that way. He originally (years later) was Anakin Skyw Alker. Again the naming genius here is hard to miss, as Anakin means "Morning" or "Light," Skyw means "Sweet" and an Alker is a yam. So originally the character was something like "Morning Sweet Yam." But as we all know, Yam gets sucked into the evil of the dark side of the force, and in a dramatic transformation becomes the Dark Potato.
So, names certainly do mean something and are quite important. If you're interested in becoming a clown and choosing a clown name, you can visit the Clowns of America International, the World Clown Association or Clown Ministry. Or, visit your local grocery store for a number of good vegetable ideas. I'm thinking about choosing the Clown Name "Rutabaga Jake" because, well, rutabaga sounds funnier than orange. Or corned beef.
Alert Reader (and Jet Setter) Mark, who refused to hide me in his carry on bags, dropped me a note from Zürich, Switzerland. He sent a few pictures; below are two.
Mark says: "This first one is at Schwägalp, and as you can see there is still snow piled up in the parking lot (albeit, a little dirty) but the snow on the mountain is quite white :-)
I say: That is ridiculous that there's a hotel right next to a gigantic mountain like that. It almost looks like something I would compose in Photoshop. Just amazing.
This next picture is great:
Mark says: Didn't know that you had a chain of high fashion stores in Zürich! Actually if I remember correctly I saw one somewhere else too, so it may be a Switzerland-wide chain, there are definitely several stores here in Zürich. Took this foto out of the tram so I was moving, sorry. Under the Schaadmode it says: deeply into Fashion and advice - guess it means "we're gonna tell you what you should wear!"
I say: When it comes to fashion advice none of you should listen to me. I did some genealogical research at one point and traced the Schaads back to Switzerland, so it's entirely possible this is some sort of distant relative (who got all of the fashion genes) (fashion jeans?) but I haven't gotten very far with the family tree thing. Now that I know there could be some sort of Swiss Clothing Discount involved I may just have to take that up again.
My thanks to Mark for the photos...It was awesome finding out that there's a schaadmode somewhere. It reminds me of "Edna Mode." (Can you guess the movie?)
UPDATE: Schaad Mode has a website here. It looks like it's a ladies fashion type store, which means I probably wouldn't look too hip shopping there. But Alert Reader Tammy (who may or may not be my wife) can use the discount.
Blog Quiz: The above picture shows:
A. A set of Dental Tools
B. A Leprechaun standing next to a pot full of Golden Delicious Twinkies
C. A cat's paw reaching under the bathroom door
If you guessed "C" you are correct. If you guess A or B I'll need to have a word with you later.
The other night I was up late, as I often am. It was around 1:30 a.m., I think, and I was downstairs making a triple-decker PBJ sandwich, since everyone else was finally asleep. Before I finished the sandwich construction I needed to use the, ah, facilities. So there I was, more or less brain dead (all useful brain activity ceases around 8 p.m. or so,) attending to business, when all of a sudden this cat paw reaches under the door and flails about, looking for a foot to grab. (What? Of course I didn't scream like a little girl, stop that.) Although I managed to not scream like a little girl (really) I was quite startled. Some things you just don't expect, no matter how ninja-like your reflexes might be. Well of course it was our kitten, Mysty, who I'm convinced spends all day plotting different ways to attack me. Sort of the feline version of Cato in the Pink Panther movies.
Getting out of the bathroom was actually a challenge, because I didn't want to just open the door and squish the cat. Well okay I thought about that but the other family members probably would have been upset.
This has happened at least two more times since that night. So I took a camera in the bathroom tonight and just waited for the attack. And, sure enough, she took the bait. I think she was a little miffed that I caught her in the act and now have photographic proof, because a little later I saw her reading "The Way Of The Ninja: Secret Techniques."
I designed a few cups for a local bagel store. Shop. Bagelry? Anyway; I love their bagels. So I was really jazzed when this job came along, especially since they're paying me in bagels. Okay I made that up. But that doesn't sound like a bad idea. I wonder if it's too late to get some sort of lifetime bagel deal. I mean, I can put away a lot of bagels in my remaining years, particularly if I'm making the effort. ("YOU again? Weren't you in here fifteen minutes ago?")
 (I felt a little agonizing, blinding, shoot-me-now pinch.)
I had the Dentist Appointment today. Just to review, this was the appointment that I was tricked into making. But I'm not bitter about that.
Overall, the appointment went well. There were a few bumps though. True to form, I had prepared myself to get two X-rays done. These are the dreaded "Bite Wing X-Rays" which are named after those Star Wars fighter ships that attacked the Death Star (the "Bite Wing Fighters.") They named them Bite Wing X-Rays because the little X-Ray pad things they put into your mouth are five times larger than your mouth could ever be, even on a good day at a great buffet, just like the Bite Wing Fighters are themselves quite large. They also are so sharp they pierce your mouth, not unlike the way the Bite Wing Fighters shot laser beams and laser bombs at the Death Star to pierce its tough outer shell.
But since I had only prepared myself to get two done, the Dental Hygienist said:
"It appears that the last time you had a Full Set of X-rays was 1975, so you're due to have that done."
I asked how many X-rays were in a full set, having no idea but realizing that sounded bad, and she said (I'm not making this up) "Eighteen." Somewhere in the distance I heard a woman scream, and a wolf baying at the moon, and the sound of a cash register ringing. And the serpentine belt on my car suddenly snapped.
"Let's wait to do that." I offered.
The examination went about as well as I expected. "Where'd you get these gums?" she asked at one point. I had five dental instruments in my mouth at the time and it was hard to speak except in pig latin, so all I could offer was "Adbay enesgay." Although they didn't have to preform an emergency gumectomy, it was seriously suggested that I get a Super Gum Cleaning. I mean Seriously as in stern looks, explanations about the risk of death from unclean gums, and someone hovering over me with the appointment book.
"Aybemay aterlay."
During the cleaning, in which every single one of my teeth were removed from my mouth, polished, and put back (okay I made that up, it only felt that way) several old fillings were noted. "You've got an old filling here." "Uhnnhuhn." "Ooo, here's another one. And another." Afterwards I just asked for someone to create a giant list of everything I needed to do, so that I could call the insurance company and we could have a good laugh. I asked them to put "diamond grill" on the list as well, so I could look like my favorite rap star. (And insurance companies love to cover that sort of thing.)
After all of this you would think I was done. Not so. The Actual Dentist then stopped by to look at my Bite Wings, my mouth, and to offer words of encouragement. These words included "You have insurance, right?" and "Try not to bite down hard on this tooth in the back on the left; it might crack and then explode, blasting all of the other teeth out of your mouth and then causing your head to fall off your shoulders." (At that point he turned to the Dental Hygienist and said, "Add Platinum Crown to the list."
As I was leaving I asked about a free plastic toy, but the ten minutes of crying at the beginning of the appointment apparently disqualified me. If I would have known that was an actual non-negotiable rule I would have been a bit more manly.
I did get a nice set of brochures about Dental Procedures, Diamond Grills and Sedatives as well as a list of everything I should have done. Anyone care to guess what the total cost* will be?
(*Exciting total cost update in a future post.)
The title of this post is actually a clever play on words, which is something I normally don't accuse myself of. Okay I just ended that on a preposition, sorry about that. One of the things I wanted to do here was talk about the other things that I do since they're sometimes amusing. My alter ego blog, which was somewhere between 37-39 and rhymed with "ago," wasn't a good place to do that, mostly because I would be beaten to death with the Nerf® bat if I tried it. (Experiencing Giddy Feeling from new found freedom. Okay, I'm better now.) So here's something I put together for a Penn State department:
Comp for Mysterious Department of Nanotechnology
So what's the really really tiny tax deduction? Well, actually there isn't one, but if I talk about consulting related things here then I should theoretically be able to deduct SOMETHING. My thought is that I can write these posts from Starbucks, and deduct the hot chocolate I buy. OR, I could write these while eating golden delicious Twinkies, and maybe deduct that. I guess I'm not terribly gifted with the tax thing.
One of the interesting things about being a web designer, besides the Bigfoot conventions, is learning about a variety of businesses and disciplines. For example: Nanotechnology. I've already learned that this involves extremely tiny things. I mean, even smaller than a dime. Sometimes these things are so small that they require special imagination to see. Or squinting. Well, I'm still learning.
No word yet on whether or not they like this first design. It may be, um, too big. We'll see.
Well. I can't even believe I read this article. But it certainly explains a thing or two.
Recently, Elvis Presley's Tennessee Home sold for $905,100 on eBay. The winner was Uri Geller, a man famous for bending spoons, cooked angel hair pasta, newspapers, rules and the truth with his mind. (Via his psychic powers, natch.) At this point you're probably thinking, "How can someone bend cooked angel hair pasta?" You may also be thinking, "What does this have to do with Carl?" Ha! I'm glad you asked that. I mean, the second question, not the angel hair pasta question.
When I initially found out that Mr. Geller had won the auction I was obviously disappointed. My bid of $905,098.50 apparently was not enough to win the house. And hey, I can accept that. But it's what happened leading up to the close of the auction that really upsets me - and even moreso, now that Mr. Geller has disclosed certain details.
Mr. Geller claims that the radio played Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender" at the close of the auction. And that he knew, then, that he would win.
This is extremely hard to accept. For you see, at the closing moments of the auction I was multi-tasking in my office with the television on (volume set to mute), the radio on (tuned in to the local rap station) while surfing the web. I normally would have been watching the auction, but I knew my bid of $905,098.50 would be tough to beat. And then, IT happened.
The rap station started playing "Blue Christmas" by Elvis Presley. I looked over at the television and saw an infomercial selling a Velvet Elvis. And then I glanced back at the computer, and a news story had come up in my RSS reader that contained the words "Pink" AND "Cadillac." (For the record, it was "Members of Pink Flamingo Gang Steal Cadillac, Large Inflatible Duck, Garden Tools") This was obviously some sort of Sign; Elvis himself was telling me that the house was as good as mine.
And then I found out I lost, by $1.50 to RealUriGeller141 and "Love Me Tender." Sigh.
Life can be cruel to a heart that's true.
Sigh. I'm all for people taking the time and doing things right, but I'm an American and demand to be entertained immediately.
NariaWeb is reporting that Hollywood Reporter is reporting that Disney is reporting that Prince Caspian has been bumped from Christmas '07 to Summer '08. Something about another movie getting in the way. Which, if that's the reason, I'm all for bumping that movie. I'm not getting any younger, and I've still got six movies left to see.
 I hate going to the dentist.
It's really nothing personal; I'm sure my dentist is a fine human being and we're all grateful - aren't we? - that there are people who are willing to go to Dental School because they're passionate about looking at the rotting teeth and gums of other human beings. My hat's off to all of the Dentists in the audience because I could never do that, and because I'm not really allowed to wear my hat in the Dentist Chair.
I'm giving this whole Dentist Thing a lot of thought because I'm going to the Dentist tomorrow. It's ostensibly to get my teeth cleaned. Because, let's face it, I can't clean them myself. Even the concept of the Teeth Cleaning is hard to understand. It would be like having to go to the doctor's once every six months for a bath. "Okay, Mr. Schaad, I understand you know all about the shower, but we really need you in here every six months for a thorough scrubbing."
Since I'm not a big fan of the Cleaning I haven't been in the office for a while. I was successfully dodging the Cleaning until my phone rang today. For some unknown reason I answered it. It was the Dentist's Office, asking if I would like to come in for a cleaning since it had been seven hundred and thirty odd days since I had last been Cleaned. Ordinarily I would have said "No." but they threw this part in: "Unless you're seeing someone else...?" Ouch. That really hurts a guy. Like I'm the kind of person to sneak out and get a Cleaning on the side. So I caved, and made an appointment for tomorrow.
The main reason I don't like the Dentist Visit (besides the pain, and the spitting, and the Dental Floss Grilling) is because it is almost exactly like going to the automotive repair center but with sharp pointy things being stuck in your mouth. What happens when you take your car to the automotive repair center? No matter how prepared you are, no matter what horrible situation you've steeled yourself for, no matter how much you think it could cost - IT IS ALWAYS WORSE:
"Well, Mr. Schaad, it seems that yes - your serpentine belt IS extremely frayed. However, we also found that your engine is half-melted, your spark plugs have turned into silly putty and the windshield wiper fluid reservoir is riddled with holes like a sieve. That will be twenty-two thousand dollars, or I can show you some nice new cars over here..."
That's exactly like the dentist! You go in for a Dental Cleaning, and it ALWAYS ends up being WORSE:
"Well, Mr. Schaad, it seems that yes - you don't know how to clean your teeth. However, we also found that you suffer from terminal gingivitis and gum disease. Unless we preform an emergency gumectomy RIGHT NOW your mouth won't become riddled with holes like a sieve. Now close your eyes, you're going to feel a little pinch."
And that little pinch they mention is not to your bank account. No, the bank account actually feels a dismemberment, not a little pinch. Every time I've gone in the past I've been asked about my insurance and when they find out I have some they say "That will be twenty-two thousand dollars." Of course, they really should ask how good the insurance is, not if I actually have any.
But, I'm going. That sucking sound is not the little sink I'm going to be spitting into; it's my sterling good mood and happiness being sucked down the drain of despair for the next several days. Or until my gumectomy is scheduled.
The GFS, which is a computer weather model that stands for either "Global Forecast System" or "Gnome Fondness Syndrome," is showing some sort of Gulf of Mexico weather disturbance which may or may not be a tropical storm or may or may not be a hurricane and may or may not actually happen. Two things are showing up right now; one at 300 hours (~ May 29) headed for New Orleans/Mobile, and one at 330 hours (~ May 30, 31) headed for the Florida Panhandle. Now, before everyone panics and heads to Peoria it's still very early. So, we'll see. But thought you'd like a model heads up.
Keep an eye on the AccuWeather.com Hurricane Center for news and bulletins.
It turns out that the "Woolly Booger" is what folks in Texas call Bigfoot. I have no idea why they call him this; if I was Bigfoot I would be terribly put out being called a Woolly Booger. But this may actually be the plan: Come up with a really derogatory name for Bigfoot, call him that to get him all incensed, and flush him out into the open. (You know, Bigfoot Rage.) So far though Bigfoot has not been flushed out into the open, nor has he retained a lawyer for a defamation suit. The big booger.
You can find the article here. There are two other interesting items to be found in this article. The first is that there is a "Bigfoot in Texas?" museum exhibition at the Institute of Texan Cultures at the University of Texas, San Antonio. Our resident San Antonio reader should get down there pronto with a camera and scope things out. The exhibition runs from April 7 to July 30. (In case anyone is trying to come up with a summer vacation plan.)
The second item is that Joe Nickell, senior research fellow for the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, says that we can't prove that there are no leprechauns. The inference here is that we also can't prove there ARE leprechauns. This is tremendously disappointing, because I'm pretty sure that there are leprechauns. There's at least three that work at AccuWeather. But not provable? What we need is some sort of plan, to flush them out of hiding. The little green boogers.
A quick news quiz: Which of the following, when being yelled while digging in your backpack at the airport, will have you facing disturbance charges and get you sent to a hospital for a psychiatric evaluation?
A. "This headache has Excedrin written ALL OVER IT!"
B. "Ten Dollars for a hot dog? That's OUTRAGEOUS!"
C. "It's time to die!"
Answer found here.
Snack of the Day: Swiss Miss Pudding
Incessantly Played Album of the Day: Lifesong, Casting Crowns
Doblerism of the Day: "How many of them really know what they want, though? I mean, a lot of them think they have to know, right? But inside they don't really know, so...I don't know, but I know that I don't know. " (Lloyd, on choosing a career.)
Most (Potentially) Ill-Fitting Project of the Day: Penn State Nanotechnology Website. (It's about wee little things.)
Okay. I completely Do Not Get this article. I can't even mow my lawn, let alone understand what there was BEFORE the Big Bang. But here we go:
"In research reported in the current issue of Physical Review Letters, the team shows that, prior to the Big Bang, there was a contracting universe with space-time geometry that otherwise is similar to that of our current expanding universe."
I've read this a few times and I'm still not sure I understand it. Maybe all of the astrophysicists in the audience (you know who you are) can leave a comment or two. But the way I read this, Penn State Brainy People, named Abhay, Tomasz and Parmpreet, somehow figured out what things looked like during a time earlier than the Big Bang. They did this using Quantum Tools which were not available to Einstein but were used almost every week by MacGyver between 1985 and 1992, and occasionally there after in syndication. Richard Dean Anderson has also been known to use a Quantum Tool or two on Stargate: SG-1.
It should be noted that for purposes of the study the researchers assumed a homogenous model of the universe. This makes perfect sense because everyone I know, and particularly all of the people I see at social gatherings, assumes a homogenous model of the universe, although you don't find this out until you engage them in conversation. Just last week I went to a cook-out and was talking to the host:
Carl: "I think you might want to flip that burger, it's looking pretty, you know, done."
Host: "Why yes, I DO work under the assumption of a homogenous model of the universe."
He then produced a Quantum Tool and flipped the burger before it burned. He also tried to slip cheese on it, since it was my burger, but I wrestled him to the ground and took away the cheese and the quantum tool.
Anyway, if you get this article at all, or your name is Parmpreet, feel free to leave a comment. You can also try to explain what "one-dimensional quantum threads" are, because you would think that would be a dot, since two dimensions = height and width, and three dimensions = height and width and depth, and four dimensions = height and width and depth and the stuff they put in Double Stuff Oreos (the cream stuff, not the chocolate cookie part.) So how you can have a one dimensional thread is beyond me.
But like I said, I can't even mow my lawn.
 AccuWeather has a great article and impact map on the website here. As you can see from the graphic, the Northeast coast (NY, MA, CT, RI,) and the Carolinas are labeled "Very High" risk, and the Texas coast and south Florida are labeled "High" risk. Additionally, AccuWeather is being very specific with a forecast of Six Hits, including five hurricanes (three major - category three or greater) and one tropical storm. The Atlantic Hurricane Season typically runs from June 1 to November 30, Russian Made Cold War Era Weather Machines notwithstanding.
Obviously a hit on the northeast coast in the area that AccuWeather has highlighted would be huge, particularly if it would be a category three or greater, which according to the odds is a good bet (six predicted hits, half of which would be cat 3+.) I think the message to take away here is that everyone should be prepared. If you live on the coast of the Florida panhandle (i.e. "Low" risk) that's no reason to skip buying your bottled water and tickets to Peoria this year.
Once upon a time there was an old, Venezuelan Gypsy Woman. What? Sure, there are gypsies in Venezuela, don't change the subject. The old Venezuelan Gypsy Woman (OVGW) was shopping in an unnamed central Pennsylvania grocery store when a young, foolish college student cut in front of her in the ten items or less aisle. Really, he claims to this day he never saw her there. You know, she was kind of short and tiny the way old, Venezuelan Gypsy Women are. The college student had a bag of Lays Potato Chips, a carton of Breyer's Ice Cream and nineteen cans of Dinty-Moore Beef Stew. Not only did he have twenty-one items in the ten items or less aisle, but he had forgotten all forms of payment except his checkbook.
The OVGW, extremely put out, pronounced a curse on him.
"A curse on you!" the OVGW pronounced. "May your lawn ever grow, and your lawn mower never mow!" Then she cackled, the way only extremely put out gypsy women can.
Well, you may not have seen this coming, but that young, foolish college student was me. (Pause for gasps.) And yes, ever since then I have been unable to mow my lawn. At first I tried the gas mower. My gas mower would never start, no matter how many times I pulled on that cord. It looked like I was trying to take flight in a fit of gasping and puffing.
After we moved to the new house, I cleverly decided I would buy an electric mower. This worked really well the first few times. Sure, the mower weighs four thousand pounds, but it's a great work out. However this weekend, as I began passing the Mantle of Mowing to my son, the mower would mow for a little while and then just stop. "It's the battery!" you yell. Or, "It needs charged!" you offer. No, these options are too obvious.
Clearly, it's the curse of the old, Venezuelan Gypsy Woman, who even now is cackling somewhere. Probably quite loudly, like only an old gypsy woman can.
(UPDATE: As Jodi points out below, the so-called "OVGM" is the counterpart to the OVGW, and generally removes the curses the OVGW places on unsuspecting though deserving shoppers. Or, the OVGM is the one who makes the Dinty Moore Beef Stew. One or the other.)
I confess I didn't know what to call this post, or even if I should post it. I generally dislike posting bad news. But when you have a blog it becomes cathartic to comment on certain things.
This article is fascinating for what it doesn't say, more than what it says. What it says is that 13-year-old Zhang Xiaoyi jumped to his death from a tall building after playing "Warcraft" online for 36 hours straight. His parents are suing the Chinese distributor of the software.
What it doesn't say is what in the world was he doing playing Warcraft for 36 hours straight and where were his parents? (I can't think of anything I can, or would want to, do for 36 hours straight.) I did a little more digging, and found this article which had some more information but still didn't answer what I think is the obvious question. It mentioned he was a "brilliant junior high school student" and played in a "game hall." But he died from "the top of the 24-story building in which he lived with his family."
I don't know, I just don't get it. The parents also tried unsuccessfully to sue the maker of the game.
A particularly sad footnote to the whole story is that the family is suing the distributor for 100,000 yuan, or about $12,500 dollars. A Hug Your Kids and Get Them Off The Darn Computer watch is in effect for the entire weekend.
Link. Apparently an oil pipeline ruptured, spilling oil outside of Lagos, Nigeria. Villagers there flocked to the site of the spill to scoop up oil. Unfortunately there was an explosion, and the linked report says up to 200 may have died. Just horrible.
Related: Oil prices jump due to kidnappings in NIgeria
UPDATE 1: "Over 100 people were burnt to death and beyond recognition"
UPDATE 2: Apparently this sort of thing isn't unheard of: "In 1998, more than 1,000 villagers died when a ruptured gasoline pipeline exploded as they scavenged fuel."
UPDATE 3: CTV.ca reports "Vandals were reportedly tapping into the pipeline to steal oil when it erupted, setting fire to hundreds of jerry cans full of oil."
UPDATE 4: 150-200 dead; this article says "Most of the victims were probably members of a skilled petrol-theft gang..." I'm not sure I would have used the word "skilled."
"U.S. crude and gasoline futures ended sharply higher on Thursday as kidnappings in Nigeria and refinery snags in the United States stoked supply worries even though inventories rose last week."
Sigh.
Link.
Okay, you caught me. There's no such thing. But I had a few items to share and in order to trick you into reading them I thought I disguise them as "deep."
First I got these Chips Ahoy! White Fudge Chunky Cookies today. I would say for the most part stick with the regular Chips Ahoy! Chocolate Chip Cookies. I'm not sure what "white fudge" is but I know it's white chocolate. (Apparently it's "soy lecithin" or something.
I had a few comments about the unauthorized autobiography. These generally fall into two categories: "How can an autobiography be unauthorized?" and "Did you really throw yourself on a grenade in 'Nam?" In terms of how an autobiography can be unauthorized - well, okay, there's really no explanation for that you got me. At first I was going to call it an unauthorized biography but since I was writing it that wouldn't work. So then I was going to call it an authorized autobiography, but I put all of that stuff in there about the doomed planet Krypton* and, figuring it was only a matter of time before a cease and desist letter arrived I figured "Just call it unauthorized; that should cover you." I wasn't going to explain all of this because now the lawyers will be on me like soy lecithin on a cookie, but hey, I love my readers.
I've had a lot of feedback on the 38below thing. Some have said try both, some have said stick with Blog Hero, and some have asked how they can check to see if they have the super power of melting the brains of people taking too long in bank lines. I'm still pondering my options. I miss poking fun at Action Penstone, Henry and the entire crew. Of course, after my LEGO® Apocalypse there won't...well, you know. I really do appreciate everyone's input though. The emails and comments have been very kind.
 While we're on the topic of comments, I've decided to try and comment on people's comments. At first I thought this would be weird. I mean, why comment on your own blog? But I've looked around and other people do just that. I found about four. So I thought I would give it a go. This is probably doomed for failure for some reason that should be readily apparent but for whatever reason escapes me.
And finally, I want to apologize for something. I think there may be some hard feelings about the 38below cards. All I can say is at the time is seemed like a great idea. To those of you who printed out a sheet and then took it to Fedex Kinko's and had two thousand printed up on colored card stock - please accept my sincere apologies. All you need to do tonight is get some sort of marker, cross out the URL and put "carlschaad.com/blog" on all of them. And then, I don't know, draw a little doodle of a super hero or a hamburger or something. (See Figure 3 for an example of the kind of thing I mean. Only your doodle should be better, and most super heroes have feet. And eyes, and stuff.)
Then sprinkle with soy lecithin and leave at the grocery store, diner, bus depot, public library and (clean, well kept) rest rooms. Thanks!
* No, the other doomed planet Krypton.
As some of you may remember, I decided that I was going to take over the office with an invincible, havoc-wrecking, fear-inspiring, unstoppable army of LEGO® people. I started by raiding the kid's LEGOs which only yielded parts of LEGO people, which I did manage to use to build a few Frankenstein-like creations. (You know, pirate hat, smiling face, farm body and space pants. That sort of thing.) So I was forced to resort to eBay, but then my funding suddenly dried up. However I stumbled across a secret recruiting source that has allowed my ranks to blossom. And it's not every day that you have blossoming ranks.
So things were going well when I made a tactical blunder™ and left my blossoming army in a bag on my desk. A coworked stopped by and said, "Hey what's this?" and picked up the bag. I cleverly replied, "That's the beginning of a LEGO® army that I'm going to use to conquer the entire office, BWAH HA HA HA HA!" He left quickly.
I think he's going for back up.
 I had a small epiphany today about time. (Go easy on me, it was a long, boring, head-cold-endured day.) I mean epiphany as in "a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something," not as in "an appearance or manifestation especially of a divine being" (thanks M-W.com!) although I really would have preferred the latter. In fact, that would have made for a great blog entry, book and probably major motion picture.
I had the S.E. (small epiphany) while I was sitting in my car on Science Park Road. Science Park Road is the small road on which several businesses are located, most of which I don't have much to do with. But two of them include AccuWeather and my credit union. So I'm forced to drive on the road almost every day. Well, I suppose I could bike, if I had one, or I could walk, if I had the time and patience, but no I drive as long as gas is under $8 a gallon. The reason I was epiphany-ing in my car was because I was basically parked due to construction. The local authorities have decided that the road should become three lanes instead of its present two, probably because of all of the people walking and biking.
At first I was really patient. This unusual patient period lasted the first 90 seconds, easily. Then I slipped from my patient mode to my apathetic mode. That lasted another 90 seconds, maybe. So here I had already blown 180 seconds, which comes out to three minutes. After trying on apathy I went right into impatient, claustrophobic freaking out mode. That lasted the rest of the time I was parked there. All sorts of thoughts went through my head, some of which included:
"I'm glad I don't have super meteor powers or this entire area would be gone."
"Why does the traffic going the OTHER way always get to go first?"
"I should turn around and drive 23 miles out of my way, because at least I would be driving."
"Boy that person holding the stop sign looks enthused. How do you get that job?"
"I'm really glad I don't have super meteor powers or this entire area would be gone."
"I could get farther, faster, if I was walking or biking."
When it was finally our side of the road's turn to move I checked the clock and did the math and ten minutes had elapsed. (This is where the S.E. comes in.) It was then that I realized my seven minutes of impatient, claustrophobic freaking out was an over reaction and that I really need to relax. It also made me think about time, and how time sometimes doesn't have any meaning apart from the context we give it. For example, 1/100th of a second for someone swimming the 100 metre freestyle in the Olympics can be huge. It can literally crush a person; someone who has trained for years to get to that moment only to lose not medal can be devastated by 1/100th of a second. However if you stand in line at "It's a Small World" for only twenty-five minutes you couldn't be happier ("We got on the ride in twenty-five minutes! Let's do that again!") Ultimately, then, it's a matter of attitude. That's a tough thing for me to remember, and even tougher to apply. But I'm pretty sure the next time (probably in an hour or two) I'm in a waiting situation my patient period will double to 180 seconds.
Of course, I wouldn't be honest with you if I didn't admit that I'd rather have super meteor powers. Just once.
This is making the rounds on the web but I haven't been able to find any background info, such as when this occurred, where the video came from, why it was made or leaked to the public, if it's real, and so on. You really can't tell with the web anymore. Well, sometimes you can tell, like I KNOW I won a free iPod for roping this steer in this little flash ad and my iPod should arrive any day now. But with other stuff like this you can't tell.
Here's the animation. It's a flash movie, and shows the flight paths of FedEx aircraft running through and around severe weather as they attempt to deliver iPods to good little contest winners everywhere.
(In favor of this being real: Who in the world would fake something like this?
In favor of this being fake: 1. It looks an awful lot like ants harvesting for the winter, and 2. There's a great deal of activity on the map during the entire movie until the end, at which point there are no planes on the map. But perhaps FedEx doesn't fly 24/7.)
The cat jumped in the toilet today.
I wasn't home at the time, or I would have video uploaded to the blog by now. But apparently Alert Reader and Cat Owner Tammy, who may or may not be my wife, let the cat in the bathroom and then watched as she put her paws up on the seat and then just jumped in. I'm pretty sure she thought it was just a big empty bowl to play and hide in, because as soon as she hit the water she thrashed and jumped about until she got out. Tammy hunted her down for a quick bath in the tub.
This whole scene was probably almost as funny as putting tape on a cat's paws, which of course I would never do. But, I mean, if you did put tape on a cat's paws I imagine that would be really funny, even more so than a cat jumping into a toilet.
(See, I take a few days off and there's too much news to cover.)
JB (AccuWeather Hurricane Expert Joe Bastardi) recently spoke to a "room packed with energy executives" (now that sounds like a lively bunch) and predicted that one tropical storm and five hurricanes would hit the nation's coast between now and November (i.e. the entire "normal" hurricane season.) MarketWatch article here. Obviously the energy industry takes a great deal of interest in hurricane predictions, especially after last year. The oil industry is still missing about 22% of its normal production due to hurricane damage.
Scientists at the NHC have created simulations of the havoc a major hurricane - Katrina-sized, if you will - would do if it hit Miami. You can find the article here and some interesting Flash simulations here.
The NHC conducted these simulations for The Miami Herald, so it's natural that this would focus on Miami instead of, say, New York City. But really, if a category four monster hit any major city it would be devastating, as we saw with New Orleans. Geography can make things better or worse, but I think we can all agreed this would be Very Bad anywhere.
I know I'm a little warped, but one of the most interesting things in the article (well, to me) was that the director of Miami-Dade County's building department is named Charles Danger. Now THAT is a cool name. When asked about people who fail to evacuate in the face of a vicious hurricane, who live in extremely tall apartment buildings, he said:
"They will be blown out and you will never find them."
(Given the windows broke and the wind caught them.) Pretty chilling. But, when Danger speaks...
Environment Canada meteorologist Dave Phillips had some dire words about the upcoming hurricane season, which everyone is predicting to be a Cataclysm of Biblical Proportions, including Anderson Cooper. Phillips had this to say:
"It's like baking a souffle. A lot of things have to come together and if someone slams the door, it won't rise."
I'm pretty sure that's the last word on the approaching hurricane season. So, bring it on.
Alert Reader Angela pointed me to this website which has some great photos of snow-clearing in Glacier National Park. I liked this this shot:
Photo by Blase Reardon, USGS, and Mark Dundas, NPS.
Next season when I have to call in some folks to clear my driveway, I certainly hope they bring something like that...
 Thanks to everyone for the well-wishes, prayers, support, and especially your financial gifts. Okay I made that last part up - so far my mailbox is empty. But that's OKAY! I'm not, you know, holding that against you or anything.
My Sorry Immune System caved Friday, May 5 at 8 p.m. This is usually when my Sorry Immune System likes to cave, because then it can destroy my entire weekend. I know this is a fact because A. it happens all of the time and B. my body hates me. I'm sure of the time too because at 8 p.m. on Friday I felt that tell-tale tickle (TTT) in the back of the throat. As everyone knows, the throat cells are the first to fall victim being that they're the weakest. They're also picked last for dodgeball by the other cells, and blood cells routinely beat them up for their milk money.
By 1 a.m. Saturday I was in full-blown head cold mode. (There's probably a bad pun in there, sorry.) By the time I woke up Saturday (it was technically before noon) I felt miserable. At that point I had two options. I could grin and bear it, or I could let everyone know that I felt miserable and they should commiserate, empathize, and wait on me hand and foot. Being the kind, generous and loving family member that I am, I felt it only reasonable to give everyone else an opportunity to wait on me hand and foot.
Actually I don't think I did that badly. On the one hand, I did absolutely nothing. So hopefully I was low maintenance. On the other hand, I was very corpse-like, and pitiable, and generally an overall downer. But that's pretty much par for the course. I like to say that men have two states - the Eight Year Old Child state, and the Super Hero state - but the truth is there's a third, even less attractive state, and that's the Sick state. Ever since day one, when women had the whole child birth thing I think men decided, "Well...there's NO topping that. No sense even trying." The only two caveats to this that I've found are when men are in some sort of war, or when men get caught in some horrible combine accident. Then we do pretty well. (It must be the adrenaline.) But catch a cold and TIMBER!
Around 1 a.m. Monday I started to feel better. This was no doubt because I had been drinking orange juice, taking vitamins, resting a lot, and was waited on hand and foot. AND because the weekend was gone and completely shot. My body (which hates me) decided that it would stay awake all night to contemplate this turn of events, and so I didn't get to sleep until 7 a.m. Then I was generally weak and miserable (still) the rest of the day. Finally around dinner time I had regained my strength and ate some potato wedges, which were quite tasty especially with ketchup. (One nice side effect of not eating all weekend was dropping ten pounds, but I'm sure I can recoup by Friday.)
So, in summary, it wasn't clover mites, or the Japanese Mafia, or an alligator-riding accident, or sniffing too much Play-Doh® or anything of that sort. Just a nasty May cold, which is entirely too late in the year to be having colds but such is life. Now we wait and see if anyone else in the family gets sick. If they do I can tell them to grin and bear it.
Have caught a doozy of a cold from work; I'll try to post something in a day or two. Didn't want anyone to panic. (I'll let you know well in advance when to panic.)
We're being invaded by clover mites.
A clover mite, for the uninitiated, is a tiny, very small mite. They eat clover, sap, ornamental plants, shrubbery, lead, smaller mites, and lasagna. You might think that a clover mite is an insect, but you would be wrong. They're actually mammals, in spite of their tiny size, although under a microscope they look like a relative of the spider or the tick. Clover mites are easily identified by their unusually long forelegs. That is, easily if you have microscopic vision, the super ability to shrink yourself, or you have a microscope handy.
Figure 2: Clover Mite, actual size.
Our first Clover Mite Invasion occurred last year. It happened something like this. Cassie was by the back door and said, "Dad, there's ten billion bugs on the wall." I scoffed, sort of a "HEH!" sound, because she's often exaggerating things like that especially when it comes to bugs. If I've heard "Dad there's a spider in my room the size of a cabbage!" once I've heard it a thousand times. (Don't worry; only once was there a spider in her room the size of a cabbage, and I was able to beat it to death with a lamp, but not before screaming like a girl.) However, when I went to look at the back door there was, in fact, ten billion bugs crawling on the wall. They were reddish-brown and the size of a period in an 8 pt line of type. I was tremendously put out. Here I was in a new house and I already had a huge infestation of some kind. I spent thirty minutes online trying to find out what it was with no luck. So then I actually captured one ( I set out some lasagna and just waited,) put it on a slide complete with cover slip, and looked at it under the microscope. I have a microscope exactly for this sort of emergency. And being the educational Dad that I am, I made my daughter look until she feigned interest.
I returned to the Internet, now armed with an idea of what the beast actually looked like. And then I found the Clover Mite. They come out in the Spring, usually invading by way of a door or window they've jimmied open. Their sole purpose is to crawl around on your walls and entice you to smash them, at which point they have the audacity to burst into a tiny red mark that stains the molecules of whatever they're on, making it impossible to clean apart from using some sort of nuclear weapon. (I've tried SOS® Pads but they just take off the paint.)
So what do the experts recommend? The primary strategy, which I'm employing this year for the first time, is to ignore them. Right now it's working out for me, although I just glanced over at the window in my study and they're crawling around in a synchronized fashion and have spelled out "SMISH US." Apparently clover mites aren't great spellers. If ignoring them doesn't work, or they get rowdy and start playing their music loudly, you can use a vacuum to suck them up. This leaves no marks and removes the clover mites, although you have to wonder what they're doing inside there after you suck them up.
Other strategies involve placing tape near the entry points of your house. This is particularly amusing if you have a cat; nothing is quite as entertaining as a cat with tape on its paw. (I would NEVER do this, of course.) If you're the kind of person who wants to keep them from coming in the house to begin with, all you have to do it get rid of your lawn. Clover mites are not known to live in/near/under concrete.
You can find info on Clover Mites here. I have to run, I just heard the refrigerator open, and I wanted to have that lasagna for lunch tomorrow.
There's been some discussion about me picking up 38below again at AccuWeather. The pros and cons of doing so are many, and I have a good long list to consider. For example, I'm not sure how many Bigfoot updates I would be able to do. There's the question of what happens to the Blog Hero - does he get stuck in a phone booth? Eat a kryptonite* bagel? Fly around the Earth at super speed in the opposite direction of the Earth's natural rotation causing the Earth to actually spin backwards which as we all know would cause time itself to reverse?
The item on the Pro side (well, maybe there's two) is that I could step in for hurricane season, which I did enjoy. I mean, I enjoyed blogging during hurricane season, not that I enjoyed the hurricane season itself. The weather's pretty quiet though - maybe hurricane season will be calm. (Pause for laughter.)
In any event, if you have an opinion on this one way or another drop me a note or leave a comment. All of you are quite astute and show a good bit of perspicaciousness, and I enjoy hearing what you think.
*No, not that kryptonite, the other kyptonite.
Alert Reader Mark, who's going to Zurich but refuses to stuff me into his carry-on bag, wrote me this week to tell me he's going to Zurich. At the end of his nice email he mentioned that he hoped my eyes were behaving. That reminded me that I probably owe everyone an update on my latest vision issues. Vision, being somewhat useful, appears near the top of the blog list, higher even than the Japanese Mafia but not so high as a good Bigfoot update. So...here's the latest.
First an unnecessarily lengthy recap. Long time readers may remember that back in November I had a sudden, inexplicable change in my vision. Not only that, but no one I saw could explain to me why my vision changed. My doctor told me he didn't know what was happening and that I should go see my podiatrist. I almost made an appointment with my podiatrist until I realized that the podiatrist is a foot doctor and that I must have heard the doctor wrong. Although, come to think of it, he was kind of snickering when I left the office.
In any event, I ended up getting new glasses, which was a Major Life Event because it changed the way I looked so dramatically that no one really recognized me anymore, especially my podiatrist who still to this day refuses to see me. The glasses are cool Rectangle Shaped Glasses, which is all the rage now. My old, roundish, large, Harry-Potter-is-Ninety-Years-Old glasses are so 2001. In spite of the old glasses being as stylish as a root canal I packed them away thinking they might come in handy some day. (At the time it seemed likely that Connor or Cassie might go trick-or-treating as a ninety year old Harry Potter. I would just need a cane and cloak and I'd have one costume down.)
Well, about a month ago it started becoming difficult to read. My ability to focus on things was quickly moving from several inches to a foot or more. This is a hassle for all of the obvious reasons. It is also a hassle for the unobvious reasons. For example, as soon as Alert Reader Tammy realized that I couldn't focus on the food on my plate, she started cooking all sorts of vegetables which she formed into hamburger-patty shaped portions and put on hamburger buns. At first I wondered why we were having hamburgers every night, and I wondered why my hamburgers tasted like Asparagus, but you guys out there know that you comment on how a home cooked meal tastes at your own peril. Eventually one of the kids said, "Dad why do you keep eating those asparagus burgers?" and the cat was out of THAT bag.
Given that I was unwittingly eating Vegetables That Shall Not Be Named, I made an appointment with the podiatrist and had my eyes checked. It turned out that my prescription changed AGAIN, and now I was exactly half-way between November and March. This worked out perfectly, because it meant I couldn't see my burgers with my new glasses, and I couldn't see traffic signs with my old glasses. I tried wearing them both at the same time but I was setting fire to shrubbery everywhere I looked, so that was out.
So now I'm faced (sorry, that pun's accidental, really) with getting new glasses yet again. I have an appointment this coming Tuesday to have my vision checked again, and if there's been no further change I'll be able to order new lenses. I'm going to have them put in my cool, Rectangle Shaped Frames so that I can remain hip. I also don't want to be recognized in public any time soon.
Especially by my podiatrist.
I know, I know, this isn't the entire machine. But you have no idea what I went through just to get this photo! It looks a little old - maybe even Cold War Era - but it appears to be one of the dials on the Russian Made Weather Machine. You can see from the photo that the Weather Machine, which as we all know is currently employed by the Japanese Mafia, appears to have several settings, including "La Niña," "Very Dry" and "Florida Cat 6." There's no way to know if there are other dials, what settings they might have, etc. But this demonstrates that anyone in Florida should probably start preparing now for Hurricane Season. Preparation would include storing plywood, stocking up on bottled water and buying your one-way tickets to Peoria.
Right now I'm looking on eBay talking to my confidential sources about the manual to the Weather Machine. We'll see what I turn up.
UPDATE: Alert Reader Susan asks, "Why would a Russian-Made Weather Machine used by the Japanese Mafia have a dial in English (and a little Spanish?)" Well! I don't know what to say. This is a great point. I am DEFINITELY leaving negative feedback for JPNMAFSTOOGE114. I knew the new user icon was trouble but I always get sucked in with the free shipping.
And WeatherData has been assimilated. (Resistance is futile.)
Article here. Congrats to both teams, I know I'm very pleased to have WeatherData on board.
Ronald Bergeron, a Multimillionaire Real Estate Tycoon and a quite Daring Fellow, owns a 5,000 acre nature preserve wherein he decided that he would liven up a tour he was giving to visitors by... riding an alligator. Clearly, he was in his male Super Hero state. (Alligator Riding Man)
So...how do you think this ended:
1. Ronald rode the alligator around the pond three times, disembarked, patted its head and said, "Good Boy."
2. Ronald rode the alligator around the pond three times, to a cacophony of "oohs" and "ahhs" and then thunderous applause.
3. The alligator grabbed Ronald by the hand and dragged him into the water.
I know you're stumped. The answer is here.
$134,121 a year.
At least, that's what Salary.com thinks, based on the types of tasks moms perform such as janitor, cook, day care, and putting up with whiny husbands, particularly when they are sick. You can find a CNN Money article here.
What do you think ladies? Is it a good start?
Fourteen-year-old Paris Solis was arrested and charged with malicious land burning. Paris, along with now identified Jorge Puig, 10, and Russell Walker, 12, are thought to have started one of the fires that helped burn 1,800 acres and is only 80% contained. Previous entry here.
I confess I like the smell of Play-Doh®. I'm not sure why; I'd like to say that it transports me back to a simpler, happier time - but it's probably just some chemical thing.
I was debating the Play-Doh® smell issue with Alert Reader Tammy, who may or may not have been in the car with me on the way back from Chuck E. Cheese, wherein our son had just purchased some Play-Doh® from the toy counter for four thousand tickets. (It was a whole ounce and a half.) She conveyed her strong dislike for the smell of Play-Doh®. I thought that would be the end of THAT discussion, but lo and behold: the perfect birthday gift.
 I know we're all concerned about the gas prices - and rightly so, as yesterday at the local convenience store I saw a man offering his watch to help pay his bill. That's an extreme example, as he was driving a Hummer. Of course, if you can afford to buy a Hummer you should be able to afford the gas AND nice watches, and maybe even one of those flat screen TVs. Man those are nice.
However, lost in all of this discussion about the outrageous, pawn-shop-boosting increase in the cost of gasoline is the current cost for a gallon of pure maple syrup. I know, some of you are going to say, "But we don't NEED maple syrup," or "But my car doesn't run on maple syrup," or maybe even "I actually prefer Aunt Jemima's Syrup." You could say those things, but I would take umbrage with you. Of course everyone needs maple syrup; yes they're working on a maple syrup car even as we speak (over in, uh, Japan I think) and Aunt Jemima's Syrup actually has no maple in it. (It's made by captured chemists in a dungeon in the Canadian northwest, but don't tell anyone that.)
So now that I've convinced you of the need, you're probably thinking, "So what am I looking at here? $5? $10? $18.50?" Ha! While gas is at $3.05 a gallon, more or less, pure maple syrup is at $44.95 a gallon when purchased properly, which is from Vermont. Of course, unless you live in Vermont you have to have that shipped, and that will cost you another $4.50. (To have it shipped that is, not live in Vermont. I have no idea what it costs to live in Vermont.) That's almost $50 a gallon! And I can go through a LOT of syrup during one pancake breakfast.
I've written a number of government officials, including my congresspersons, and to date I've not heard anything. I'm sure this is because some sort of Official Government Committee is being formed, and they're probably fighting over who gets to chair the committee, because this is an election year and everyone wants to be seen fighting the exorbitant cost of Big Maple Syrup and being on the side of the little pancake-loving-guy. I've also written the geniuses behind Eggo Brand Waffles®, because you think they would have a stake in this. (Lower pure maple syrup costs means more maple syrup out there, and so people could finally buy more Eggo Brand Waffles®.)
I'm optimistic there will be some sort of solution. My idea, which I completely thought up all by myself, would be for the government to send out $100 checks to every American so we can buy two gallons of pure maple syrup, unless you live in Vermont in which case you should only get $90 checks because, hey, you can walk down to the store and get it. Stop being lazy like that.
(As a final aside, apparently some pure maple syrup is produced in Canada. They even went so far as to put the pure maple syrup leaf on their flag. I suppose you could buy pure maple syrup from Canada, although all of their money up there is different or something, so it might be tricky.)
A downed power line is thought to have ignited a fire on Tussey Mountain, which is relatively close to the Schaad Hacienda. Here's a shot of the mountain in question from my front porch:
You can smell the smoke in the air, but it really depends where you are. I was closer to the fire after work and didn't smell a thing, but when I left the AccuWeather Global Headquarters Building it was intense and I got a massive headache immediately. Here's an article from the local paper. And here's the local fire company.
I saw a license plate today that read "DRIV MSB," but I can't figure out what that means. Anyone have any ideas?
Two boys - 10 and 12 - have been arrested and charged with a third-degree felony, "intentional and reckless burning of land." The fires have destroyed at least nine homes and two fire trucks.
The articles I quoted don't mention the boys names. I assume that's because their age. It's odd to think they're old enough to commit these acts, and old enough to be charged with a felony, but not old enough for them to be named. The articles I've seen don't mention any fire details or a motive (i.e. were they "playing around" or intentionally burning things?) If anyone sees anything on this please leave a comment.
The fire is about 75% contained as of Sunday, although winds today could cause problems.
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