This Blog Is Full Of Crap

(Via Aussie Dave, whose father needs our prayers)

What's even more surprising is that Red Ted's CNN is reporting it:

One person was killed and three were wounded Wednesday in an Israeli airstrike targeting a metal shop in Rafah, according to Palestinian security and medical sources.

Israel Defense Forces confirmed the airstrike.

The person killed was the deputy commander of the Islamic Jihad military wing, according to the Palestinian sources, who said he also served as a school headmaster at a United Nations Relief and Works Agency school.

UNRWA spokesman Chris Gunnes said he could not immediately confirm that the person was employed by the United Nations, and added that staff members who bring politics into U.N. institutions are fired immediately for violating staff rules.

In any other organization, there'd be a thorough investigation, people fired, charges filed, etc. and so forth.

Instead, these folks will be tapped for promotions, bonuses, and work harder to get their gun-toting cousins on the UN payroll.

Qualls took down Berkman, Lee, and Cruz last night.

Big Fifty rolls on while the Astros continue to slide into the cellar of 2008.

As for Cruz, well, this is what happens when nepotism hits the roster.

Guy's done a great job filling in the sub-100 Jason Lane role.

If Clemens had stuck around another year, would his kid have blighted Minutemaid?

The UN is cutting back it's toys for terrorists' tots and meals-on-carbomb-wheels programmes n Gaza:

Rising prices and funding shortages have forced the United Nations to stop providing emergency food aid to more than 13 percent of the 750,000 Palestinian refugees it generally feeds in Gaza, a UN official said Friday.

The United Nations' Relief Works Agency has over the last few weeks gradually reduced the number of Palestinian refugees to whom it distributes packages of basic foods to some 650,000, spokesman Matthias Burchard told The Associated Press.

It has also had to further reduce rations, he said.

"Soaring food prices, transport and fuel costs are forcing us to reduce what we can give," Burchard said.

The cost of fuel in Iran and Venezuela, of course, is ludicrously low. cents for the gallon.

Strange how that doesn't somehow get imparted to their so-called brothers in armed struggle, eh? Makes you think they somehow get off on Palis pantomiming and staging scenes of suffering and degradation for the international press.

So, where is the real problem? Why is the begging bowl not as full as it is supposed to be?

The funding gap comes from the fact that Arab Islamic Petrotheocracies pledged over 700 million bucks for the year and barely delivered 150 million bucks.

Most of the money they actually delivered, of course, going to either weapons or third rate goods meant to provide cover for weapons smuggling.

Makes you wonder about the suckers at the State Department who keep writing check after check, eh?

I've finally posted the backlog to the 100 Word Stories podcast.

Enjoy the hell out of it, folks.

It's Cinco de Meow Meow today...

Have a shot of tequila.

The "Dead Zone" television series started off really, really cool.

Then... it started to drag.

Yeah yeah yeah there's been a few wicked twists here and there. They even took out a primary and changed the chemistry of the cast a touch.

But in the end, I gave up watching it.

I kept thinking "Get on with it! Let's drop the gloves and finish this sucker!"

"Nip/Tuck" got to that point. Even though the writers kept throwing the characters at each other in deeper and deeper pits of depravity and evil, at some point you start to wonder at what point does someone pick up a scar that doesn't heal?

Sure, the supporting cast gets mown down every season, but there comes a point at which a primary needs to go down. Hard.

Maybe I've gotten to the point where I can't deal with watching an arc-based series in series. I need to watch as a marathon session.

Okay, so Chadley finally got tagged for an earned run.

Yes, he has six unearned and two losses, but getting tagged for an earned run after 17 innings of work in a month... that's not bad at all.

Looking at the Gas Can Alley in front of the Borden sign at Minutemaid, that would be quite welcome.

500 ball for the Astros now, and a march of losing teams ready to up their records at the Astros' expense.

Should be interesting to watch.

Tom Hanks must be talking about some other Senator named Barack Obama:

"As an official celebrity, I know my endorsement has just made your mind up for you," the 51-year-old actor says in a short video titled, "Beware: Celebrity Endorsement."

"History with a capital `H' is going to be made this November, no matter who the president-elect is. I want Barack Obama to be president of this country, a country that once said people with his skin color were only three-fifths of a human being."

Hanks, who won Oscars for his roles in "Forrest Gump" and "Philadelphia," explains his decision: "It's because of his character and vision, and the high road he has taken during this campaign. He has the integrity and the inspiration to unify us, as did FDR and Harry Truman and John F. Kennedy and even Ronald Reagan when they ran for the job."

*sigh* Integrity?

The flip-flopping Obama did during the whole Jeremiah Wright situation was downright disgusting and pathetic.

It's going to be a serious hold-your-nose-in-November kinda year, folks.

You know that Roger The Mercenary is in bad shape when Richard Justice piles on:

He made Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire look good. At least they had sense enough to keep their mouth shut. Everytime Clemens opens his he seems less and less honest. He's the butt of jokes on late-night TV. He won't be getting into the Hall of Fame unless he buys a ticket.

If he goes to prison, will he request that the judge give him 22 months?

From Twitter:

scottlo @isfullofcrap you've got to imagine The Rocket will get Clemency

BOO!

Apparently, there's some kind of Twitter meetup tonight at 6006 Westheimer... Chua... Chum... Ch-something restaurant that isn't Chuy's.

Shouldn't be hard for me to get to if I use the 53 back and forth. I may get there early to see if there's anything in that area I need to buy.

Oh, and some guy named Chris Brogan will be there. He's one of the Boston Marketers, so that'll provide some nice quiet napping time...

"Blah blah blah Social Media blah blah blah Web 2.0 blah blah blah hire us to enhance your online community marketing presence blah blah blah."

Now Tom Waits... that's the guy coming to town I wanna see, for sure.

I walked by Jones Hall yesterday... in the rain, no less! (Okay, so I could have taken the tunnels to the box office. I'm a moron.)

They don't know what the deal is there yet, which makes perfect sense. They think inside the box at the box office... said "Ticketmaster" and "The performer's website" and pretty much everything indicating that there really wasn't much point to caging two Homo sapiens in a glass booth under a building to tell me that they couldn't do anything, eh.

Oh well. I shoulda given them some candy or something.

I got this in my inbox today:

This week's theme: eponyms.

Simon Legree (SY-muhn li-GREE) noun

A harsh taskmaster.

[After Simon Legree, a brutal slave dealer in the novel Uncle Tom's Cabin
by Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896).]

Today's word in Visual Thesaurus: http://visualthesaurus.com/?w1=simon+legree

-Anu Garg (words at wordsmith.org)

"In Brutal Bosses and Their Prey (1996, Riverhead Books), Harvey Hornstein
identifies six variations on Simon Legree."
Sal Marino; Brutal Bosses From Hell; Industry Week; Jun 22, 1998.

Public service message:

Please donate to these organizations to help with the relief work in Myanmar:
Doctors Without Borders: http://doctorswithoutborders.org/
Unicef: http://unicef.org/

I've been a subscriber of A Word A Day since... sheesh... pretty soon after it got started, I think.

As for the word itself, well, Marvin Zindler thought it was cute to give that to me as a nickname.

I looked it up, read Uncle Tom's Cabin, and pretty much agreed that I had a vicious streak on vendors and idiot whiny coworkers that obliterated any good I could do for them.

But then, so did he.

As for donating to the relief work in Burma, I'll do the usual contribution to Maagen David Adom.

If they refuse the aid from Israel, fuck 'em all.

Black Tie Martini Club is working on a landmark production that in a less-fucked-up-universe should cause tsunami-level waves across the podosphere.

Fuck Dawn and Drew.
Fuck Adam Curry.
Fuck Leo Laporte.

This is the shit podcasting was made for: crazy-assed insane "I've got a digital barn, let's put on a show" collaboration.

Yeah, this one's gonna get me lynched.

Fuck it. No matter how hard you tie the rope, you can't choke off my laughter.

Now I want to dig up some other old scripts and get them polished.

And, yes, I'll make sure there's more than two parts in them. Otherwise Daphne's gonna whiiiiiiiiiine.

Sheesh.

Tom Kirkendall takes a look at the Astros season so far.

Average team... things to be hopeful about and things to be concerned about.

Jose Cruz is an absolute misery at the plate. Call up Brandon Backe to pinch-hit, dammit.

JR Towles is making Brad Ausmus look good at the plate now.

Mark Loretta is fading.

If Michael Bourn continues to bat under his weight, it'll be a test of Cecil Cooper. Garner failed the Jason Lane test. Cecil's going to have to think this one over really hard.

Sick day.

I feel like someone beat me with a hammer.

Blogging won't be light. It'll be nonexistent.

Going back to bed.

There is such a thing as a bad customer.

Apparently, he's been on a rampage through the tech floor during my absence.

He's been tormenting and harassing and insulting the techs for years.

Management won't finish him off, despite his bleeding the company dry with wasted labor costs fending off his unsupported issues.

Maybe they're waiting for a tech to lose their shit, post this guy's information out on the web, and shout HACK THE FUCK OUT OF THIS FUCKING FUCKER! to the hills.

*shrug*

Weekend's right around the corner.

Whatever.

Mother's Day 2005: 4 cats
Mother's Day 2006: 3 cats
Mother's Day 2007: 2 cats
Mother's Day 2008: 1 cat

I'd prefer not to do the math, thank you very much.

The Diary of Anne Frankenstein is up at Black Tie Martini Club.

Heh. Heh.

(We're totally gonna get lynched.)

I have a small favor to ask.

You may notice there's no ads on this site. And I don't rattle a tipjar, either.

No, I'm not changing that,

But what I am asking is that you take a moment and think of what you'd have sent in for a blogging tipjar to this site and instead put that towards buying Grace Buford's music.

She's playing a gig in my Second Life venue tonight, and what she raises in tips and the appearance fee is going to help towards filling out her new home. (She's been living the Gypsy lifestyle and hasn't carried much furniture around with her, so she and the kids could use a few shelves and other things... yeah, I've been there before.)

Okay, so some of you won't take my word for it that she's absolutely wonderful. Fine. Be that way. To hear some of the tracks before buying, you can listen using The SixtyOne. It's a rather weird Web 2.0 kinda music site with bumps and other stuff, but it's pretty straightforward on how to play tracks from performers and whatnot.

(Then, you can admit that you were wrong about not taking my word for it, eh.)

If you're interested in contributing more than just an album sale to her furniture fun, let me know in the comments or via email, and I'll send you a PayPal address where you can contribute directly.

Thanks, and.... um... METRO SUCKS!

We ask a customer if there's anything else we can do for them.

They respond with a single letter: a.

Not Y or N.

Just a.

No. Really.

a

All you people who have been holding back the job offers, feel free to just let them roll on in.

No problem at all on the volume of email on my part. I'd be totally cool with it.

Consider it a kind of humanitarian gesture, or saving-lives-from-not-going-more-bugfuck-insane kinda thing.

Probably tax deductible, too.

The last two Matrix movies sucked.

V sucked.

No, I don't plan on seeing Speed Racer.

I'm done with the Wachowski Brothers.

At least these days, with digital recording technology, you can't say they're wasting film.

Just energy. Lots and lots of energy.

Rush's The Spirit Of Radio talks about shattering the illusion of integrity.

Ron Stone died yesterday.

But in some regards, the Ron Stone the public thought they knew died a while back.

He built up over twenty years of trust with the Houston community as a newsanchor.

And then, instead of retiring, he made a business of selling that trust to the highest bidder.

Uncle Guido once told me that you can never sell integrity.

Those who try to sell it never really had it in the first place.

Whether it was poor planning for his retirement or poor character that drove him to such a post-journalism career, I'm sure only Ron Stone could tell you.

Comments are turned off on this post because, frankly, I don't give a flying fuck what others think right now. And if you want to comment on this post in other posts, don't. Not going to read it, not going to approve it.

Go vomit on your own blog. This is my barf-bucket.

Where did I put that lamp?

I need to wander the streets again. Need to find someone.

Won't find them, sure, but that doesn't mean I should stop looking.

I suppose I ought to say something about crazy ants.

Don't take crazy bread from Little Caesars on a picnic and you'll be safe from crazy ants.

In fact, don't eat that shit from Little Caesars at all and you'll be safe. Man, that crap is greasy.

There's a huge row brewing over Bush's speech in the Knesset.

It's patently obvious that Bush is referring to Jimmy Carter.

And you know what?

Fuck Bush.

He had his chance to openly condemn Jimmy Carter by name back when the old fart was puttering around the region, kissing terrorist ass.

He had his chance to condemn Jimmy Carter by name in this speech.

He didn't.

It took him eight years to get Air Force One to land in Israel.

He refused to follow through on your word to move the Embassy to Jerusalem when the de facto Arab consulate is in East Jerusalem.

He kowtowed to the Turks when it came to toppling Saddam Hussein and went in with a fraction of the troops needed.

He kowtowed to a Pakistani dictator in the pursuit of Osama Bin Laden and let the bastard slip away in the Tora Bora region because of so-called "allies" in the War On Terror.

He refused to cut off funding to the PA and UN that is obviously going to terrorist activities.

So, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you, George Bush.

If you deal with immigration cases in Florida and are sick of ones involving people who speak Spanish, have I got a case for you...

Write me.

In case you're wondering, Grace went shopping for shelves today, and she's checking out stackable washer/dryer combos.

We've made a difference, folks. Thanks to each and every one of you.

J.R. Towles - Useless
Michael Bourn - Useless

The excuse of "They're good defensively" didn't carry any water with Adam Everett, and they won't with these two.

Yeah, they won despite these two. But still...

Blech.

Sloppy pitching, fielding... and it looks like only one miracle comeback per game is in order.

Towles is the new Adam Everett. Ausmus must be teaching him how to get management to seek out a younger replacement or something.

Wonderful. The Astros will have a starting catcher in diapers next year.

Bourn's perfect at stolen bases. All he needs to learn to do now is steal first base.

Oh well. Tomorrow's another day.

Go get you some 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge while it's nice and hot!

No Garfing this week. He's pimping his house out big time. Gonna bling it to the max, fo shizzle.

Nardo's never been much of a lapkitty, but he's been a pretty reliable bedcat.

While I was watching a goofy "History" channel piece on Abraham Lincoln's reliance on psychics, Nardo decided to be a blanket tangle-cat.

I needed to get up to get a notebook and the camera, of course...

Okay, so he wasn't happy I'd gotten up.

Sometimes, he can be a pest, walking back and forth on the couch and jumping up and off, usually landing a claws-out paw near my face.

But I know he doesn't mean anything by it. And when he's in a hand-chewing mood, it's just because he'd rather have his ears rubbed or chin scritched than his sides stroked.

When I read stories like this about the Soyuz and the limits on crew capacity during normal operations of the ISS, I wonder Why the fuck was the X-38 project canceled?

All that potential research time lost because the station can't be manned fully due to the Soyuz's capacity limitations.

Sheesh.

There's a procedure that customers have to follow to cancel a server or services on the server.

It's to prevent accidental cancellations or malicious cancellations in the rare circumstance some twit leaves their account and password exposed to malcontents.

Because it's a lot easier to request a cancellation and then get confirmation than to, say, get that server replaced, order backups, change DNS entries if the IPs have been reassigned, etc.

It's not brain surgery to go into the portal and select the cancellation link for follow-up confirmation, but it's not obvious, either.

At least 20 times a day, someone writes an email or a ticket (in varying degrees of rage and frustration) asking to cancel their server or services.

There's a canned response telling them the step-by-step procedure.

The common responses:

• Did you cancel my server?
• Um, that makes no sense.
• I'm gonna sue you!
• I'm just gonna tell my credit card company to ignore the charges.
• Just shut up and do it, you shit-eating platypus-fucker!

With any procedure, there's going to be people who truly don't give a flying fuck what the procedure is. They just want to walk up to the clown's head and shout that they want five Jumbo Jacks and a Coke.

But if there's perfectly ordinary people who get hung up, stumped, or frustrated by your procedure, that's a pretty good sign that your procedure leaves room for improvement.

Here's a suggestion: improve it.

Write out every step of the procedure in a decision tree, and then ponder what it takes to answer each decision.

Then, grab some folks off the street and run them through the maze.

If nobody makes it from one end to the other, that's a good sign that you need to make it simpler.

Fitness centers rook you in with splashy commercials, false hopes, and money-back guarantees that aren't worth the shit in their shit-eating-grins.

Canceling service with those assholes is like a trip to the dentist through Landmine Acres.

They pretty much set the standard for sliminess.

The WiFi/multiport router bricked itself somehow last night.

Solid lights. Didn't reset.

So when I woke up, no access.

And the neighbor's open WiFi wasn't going outbound, either.

Oh well. Plenty more time for breakfast.

Made a note to stop by Best Buy on the way home.

I'm sure any router/hub/switch/thingamadoodle will have rebates "lowering" the price.

I really hate rebates.

I pay full price, including sales tax. Then I have to fill in a form. Then mail it. Then wait for the rebate check. Then go to the bank. Then deposit the check. Then wait for it to clear.

What a fucking hassle.

Woke up feeling like dogass.

Themometer showed three digits.

Considering how this week has gone at work, I was not about to go in on a fever hairtrigger.

Then, an idea hits me as I boil this ickiness out in the tub:

Perhaps someone should tell the Training Department to give their section on DNS to Billing Care?

I get up, put on my robe and check my spiralbound notebook.

Ahhhh... that's what I tried to write myself Sunday night. Couldn't comprehend it.

Oh well. I should pass this along.

Oh, the ritual?

Shaved the beard and mustache.

My face was itching something fierce. I guess it's my way of telling myself to start fresh.

Out hunting for very small dogs, I suspect...

Didn't find any.

But there's always tomorrow.

Nardo's outside.

Loud yelp and shriek.

I get up and run out the door with a broom in case I need to break up an altercation.

The sprinklers are on.

Yup. Nardo got blasted and soaked.

Simplot lives no more.

His handiwork can be seen everywhere, in the fat-getting-fatter chowing down on McDonald's fries across the world.

Yeah, his companies processed other agricultural products. Some of them were healthy ones.

Micron Technology owes its existence to him.

But primarily, those artery-cloggers will be what he's known for.

Will you have fries with that?

No, thank you. Just the salad.

The 100 Word Stories Podcast will reach its third anniversary on Friday.

Not sure what I'll do to mark the occasion.

It will probably involve a 100 word story. Or more.

Last night, Nardo decided to announce his supremacy over all four-footed creatures from the other fence:

Apparently, owning just one fence isn't enough, so he had to claim the other one.

Either way, he's extraordinarily silly up there.

The clock is running out for Ariel Sharon's incompetent henchman.

If Ehud Barak really thinks Olmert should step down, he needs to break the coalition and refuse to hold coalition talks until Olmert resigns his seat in the Knesset.

If Olmert still holds on tight, then it's time to force elections.

No more empty rants at the media, Ehud. No more bluster.

It's time for action.

Professional Twat Swatted.

No, really. Who gives a flying fuck what Sharon Stone thinks?

Reporters, please explain to the global audience why you bother even turning on the microphones? Or point them in her general direction?

Hollywood needs a Mute button.

Do you hate The New York Fucking Yankees?
Do you hate Andy Fucking Pettitte?
Do you hate Roger Fucking Clemens
Do you hate Morgan Fucking Ensberg?

Here's a way to let them know how much you hate them all: vote for the Boston Red Sox players for the All Star Game.

The All Star Game is being played in Yankee Stadium.

So, if you vote for the Boston Red Sox players, you can help stack the entire roster with Red Sox in Yankee Stadium.

I just did 25 ballots with all Red Sox players.

And you should too.

Because it's The New York Fucking Yankees.

And we hate the fuckers.

Lord High Doofus Nardo sits on his throne, demanding attention from his servant humans.

It's hard to tell where he'll be in the mornings.

Sometimes, he stays o nthe bed.

Sometimes, he jumps down on the floor as I'm getting dressed.

Sometimes, he hangs out in the bathroom.

Sometimes, he comes out to the living room to claw up his cardboard settee.

And then, there's the times he gets on his pedestal and naps.

The Modulator has The Friday Ark and don't forget Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

Because let's face it: who gives a rat's ass what Glenn Reynolds HEH INDEEDS?

Archmoron Desmond Tutu got himself smuggled from Egypt to Gaza to speak with so-called Palestinian "Witnesses" who have been coached for the past two years to lie about the Beit Hanoun shelling.

Meanwhile, back in his home country, actual apartheid and that has nothing to do with a sovereign nation's security and right to exist is taking place:

A United Nations human rights expert today said he was distressed at the current spate of xenophobic attacks on foreigners and ethnic minorities in South Africa, which has claimed the lives of 56 people.

“I express my distress at the recent xenophobic violence targeting refugees,
migrants and South African ethnic minorities in Johannesburg and surrounding
townships,” Doudou Diène, the UN’s Special Rapporteur on racism, said in a statement.

What are we to take from this, Desmond, going out of your way to denounce Israel?

Arab-on-Jew and Black-on-Black violence is fine your jaundiced eye, or does it take a back seat to your never-ending campaign to tilt against the phantom windmills of apartheid wherever your senile mind imagines them to be?

What's Desmond's opinion of Robert Mugabe these days? (If there's checks involved, there's got to be more zeroes on them to make up for the hyperinflation of Zimbabwe.)

Desmond Tutu and Jimmy Carter - proving that Nobel Prizes and swelled heads are a bad combination, as they cut off circulation to the brain.