Friday, June 25, 2004

Just damn!
To steal a line from the estimable Dax Montana. It seems that Jack Ryan, running for a senate seat is tangled up in a bit of divorce imbroglio with his wife the delicious Jeri "Seven of Nine" Ryan of Star Trek: Voyager fame. I won't even Google up a link because if you don't know what she looks like, that rock you've been hiding under is probably preventing you from accessing PoW anyway.
But here's the deal: She says he has hauled her everso bite-able ass to sex clubs all over the world where he wanted to have sex with her in front of other people. This leads me to two inescapable conclusions. First, I am never in the right place at the right time. And second, no duh! If I were married to a woman who looked that good, I'd want other people to know that I was the one who was doing her too!

And I say that with the utmost respect of course. Jeri, once the papers are filed, (makes the thumb and little finger "call me" gesture), OK?

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

I've said it before
And I'll say it again: Bill Clinton was the most pole-driven president this country has ever seen.
Splain it to me, Lucy
Life delivered me of one of those face-wobbling "daaaahunyn?" moments (I don't think it translates well to the written word but if I demonstrated, you would know what I mean) as I was adding a book to my Amazon wish list. One of the options in the "Priority" section is "Don't buy this for me." To quote Moe Syzlak, Whaaaaaa?
If it's on your wish list, why would tell people not to buy it for you?

Sometimes life doesn't even make nonsense.

Sunday, June 20, 2004

Tipping Points and Modern Life
I write my posts, in almost all instances, on my G4 15" PowerBook which is connected to the DSL modem by a Linksys wireless router (802.11b). Which means that if I so inclined, I can take the machine out onto the deck and blog in the sun and the lovely fresh, Father's Day air. I don't do this often but the fun fact of modern life is that I can if I want to! OK, I concede that running a wireless net in the house is getting to be less and less of a Big Thing. Verizon is even offering a "free after rebate" wireless router to those who sign up for DSL service (I'm guessing that they charge $99 for the router which actually costs about $60 and make up the money on either the float between purchase and rebate or the people who never get their rebate together).

The mere fact of the wireless connection is not the point. The point is the prevalence of the wireless. I have a neighbor who runs a wireless network called, I kid you not, "wonderland" which I have actually logged onto and loaded a web page. It's not a strong signal but it's enough for me to surf through. Before I get to the next step in this little, virtual parade, I have to ask why my neighbor does not encrypt the wireless signal? I imagine that my wireless could be used as I've used my neighbor's except for the fact that I set up the WEP encryption as soon as the connection was up an running. WEP is easy. Why does not my neighbor do this? I know the answer not.

The final step, for blogging purposes today, is what happened to my brother Festus the other day. He has a new house in a Southern City That Shall Go Nameless (SCTSGN in the future) which is, for all intents and purposes, a second home. The house does not have land line phone service since both he and Miss Kitty have cell phones. So he doesn't have internet access at the place unless he steps over to one of his neighbors. Until he discovered that someone on the block has a wireless network set up. So if he needs to access, mostly just getting e-mail instead of the marathon blog-reading sessions of which we are both quite fond, he can step out his front door and connect.

Have we reached that tipping point in wireless access where small-scale WiFi points are popping up all over the country like mushrooms after a spring rain? I hope so. Cell computers. E-mail in the ether. There is so much to love in the world today.

Friday, June 18, 2004

An Insect Jihad
The trees are shagged with brown-leaved, dead and broken branch ends courtesy of the Al CiQuedas!

Now the bastard's are using teenaged bugs (to steal a line from Dave Barry).
Morona
Madonna Louise Ciccone, who would more aptly go by the name above, has decided to go by the name "Esther" as part of her study of Jewish mystical tradition. (I like the mysticism. -Ed) This may be part of the "Reinvention" tour but it seems to me that given how many times she's "reinvented" herself (she once threatened to "dress (me) up in her love" -ugh), she is as polymorphous as an amoeba.
So let me suggest, between the multiple personalities and the utterly synthetic nature of her quest for spiritual enlightenment, a better new name for her: Polyester.

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

If I ever commit suicide...
No, I'm not contemplating anything even remotely like it. But if I were, I'd like to leave a suicide note that was actually irrelevant to my death but stirred up the honey wagon anyway.
Something like: "I find I can no longer live in a world where Vin Diesel is a major star. Jesus! Take me now!"

Please feel free to comment with your suggestions of trouble-making suicide notes.
Why, oh why!
We lose the Great Communicator and who is still plaguing the free world with an upcoming book? The Great Cum-on-you-cator, Billy Clinton.
Heywood J-Lo Me
OK, it's a weak take on "Heywood Jablomi," but I grow increasingly horrified at a world where press attention is lavished on this marginally talented alleged singer/actress/dancer/serial marrier.

Congratulations Jennifer. With your third ring, your life is now a circus.

Saturday, June 05, 2004

Another bad pun for Atlanta's finest Grouch
If you don't hire a decorator to co├Ârdinate your tchotchkes, you'll wind up with everything but the kitsch in sync.
But one dumb joke before I go
The teacher says to little Johnny, "Can you define 'metaphor?'"
"Sure," said Johnny, "I wanted to meet a '10' but I only metaphor."
Bloggus Interruptus
I've been away from the bloggacious keyboard for so long now that it feels strange to be posting again. But here I am pecking away at the little plastic curved, truncated pyramids marked with alphanumeric symbols. (Being away does not allow you make up for it with needless verbosity. -Ed) Shut up, Ed.

It nows appears that Verizon has got my user ID all straightened out so, those of you who know what it is can e-mail me with confidence. Do it with zest and brio as well. I like zestful and briotic e-mail.

What's the cause of all the Lack O'Blogging (my Irish name)? My move of course. I am ensconced in my new place and as my brother noted, it already seems more home-like than the rental I was in for lo these many years. Word to the wise: if you live in the DC suburbs, buy now if you possibly can. Real estate is insane and unlikely to become less so in the next several years. Just as a ferninstance, the town of Reston is now fully built out. Let me say that again: fully built out. There is no more land on which to construct more housing in all of Reston. Certainly, houses will go up on tear-downs and I expect some zoning density changes over time. But not much.
There's way too much NIMBY, dog-in-the-manger, I-got-mine-so-screw-you in Northern Virginia to allow for any significant increases in zoning density in Reston. But logic dictates (Ha ha ha! -Ed)... I said, shut up, Ed. Logic dictates that at least a few changes will be made to both accomodate demand and to make money for the vast real estate machine that takes great, gnashing bites at the lovely countryside.

And thank God for that. A wonderful part of that machine helped me get my new home. I never thought I'd love a bunch of people in that biz but the Jan and Dan (and Bill and Anne and Mitch) are at the top of my Valentines list.

Now that the kissy-face is done, back to the move. Sweet blistering Jebus. Without the expensive help of professional movers and the astounding help of my brother, who will be known as Festus here because that will preserve his anonymity as much as possible, I never would have been able to get my growing mountain of possessions out of the old place. Yikes. Superfetation of crap. Metaphorically speaking - metaphoric crap, not metaphoric superfetation. But I now have the chance to spread out all the decades of acquisition and weed through it. Keep the good and the sentimental and sell or donate the rest. It ain't gonna be easy.

I could go on. But for my return to the blog, I'll tie off this bleeder now. Thanks for asking for my return you knuckleheads. I hope I can keep you entertained with more blather in the near future.