Army Immerses Soldiers in Weaponry

Calgon, take me away.
And drown me.

Thug Lite

Yet another sign that the Apocalypse is upon us:

"Elton John was talking to us about his upcoming album, The Captain and the Kid, due out next month, when he dropped a bomb about his plans for the project after that: he intends to record a hip-hop album with Dr. Dre."















Word to your mother.

It Ain't the Lips, Honey

Cassandra and the ladies are all in a tizzy/snit about something that somebody said about conservative women having skinny lips. I'm not kidding.


Seeing as today I have nothing to say on that particular matter (or any other particular matter), I thought that I might just stir up some trouble.



But there's not a whole lot of trouble out there waiting for me to get into, it seems.

I'm not kidding.

Maybe you folks could come up with some ideas?




Thanks.

O Death, Where Is Thy Sting?

I thank you for your many kind comments in the post below about the passing of Big Jim C. I apologize for causing you to think that Jim was my father. He was not. My own Dad died some years ago. Jim was my best friend's father, a man I'd known for more than 40 years.

Even though we were not biologically linked, however, Jim was a father to me in many many ways. He was my Coach and teacher. He gave me my first job that required a tie. Jim was the Chairman of my personal Board of Directors, and he saw right through me.

Throughout my life,Jim never gave up on me, even when I had about given up on myself. And when I failed he'd never ask me why, but rather "What did you see there?" and then listen as I taught my self another lesson. And when at last I'd succeed his praise would be equally subdued. "Of course you did," he'd say.

Of course I did. Thanks to you.

St. Paul was right. There is no sting to death where the life is well lived. Jim approached every day with gusto and faith. Faith in himself. Faith in Christ. And faith in every human being.

I am a better man for having known him.

Big Jim

Did we ever touch?
Or just bully past each other?

Either way, sir,
You remain my lighthouse.
And for all the glare of your harsh stare,
I love you still.

Rest, now, friend and father
And know that you have lit a beacon.
Strong enough to guide this single life.

Double Header

What can I say?

The teams combined for 41 runs and 61 hits. Twenty pitchers -- that's counting Mike Myers and Scott Proctor twice -- threw 783 pitches. In all, the teams played 8:40 minutes of baseball, from Jason Johnson's first pitch at 1:10 p.m. until Mariano Rivera covered first to retire Wily Mo Pena at 12:52 a.m.

Dear Lord I do so hate the Yankees.

CSI: Rock Lyrics

We begin a new sub-chapter in intellectual futility tonight with lyrics from The Doors:


Yeah!, come on, come on, come on, come on
Now touch me, babe
Can't you see that I am not afraid?
What was that promise that you made?
Why won't you tell me what she said?
What was that promise that you made?





***
What was that promise that she made?

Game Day!

Hey there, Mister Coffee. Are you ready for some baseball?






Chill out, Popsicle Head. The Sox are a game and a half back and looking tired.



Tired? Your boys dropped one to last the freakin' Orioles yesterday 12 -2, and you're calling us tired?






Yeah, well that sucked, but you know how it's going to go today.









Yeah, Joe.
I do.

August 12

Hppy brthdy, spd



From your friends at Heigh Ho



May all your wishes come true!








Well, most of them anyway....















(posted by Portia)

Vacation

It's all I ever wanted.

One Man's Terrorist Is Another's Assh*le

If you haven't heard, "somebody" hacked into Joe Leiberman's homepage and knocked it out of commision with a "denial of service attack." Of course, Karl Rove denies any involvement, but then doesn't he always? I mean who else but Rove would replace Joe's homepage with a message like this:

''We ownz u site.''

Oh, yeah. That typifies the typical imperialistic neo-con jingo grabbism that typically this Administration is typically famous for so typically. And note the sly attempt by Rove and his gang of hackers to engage the black vote at the same time by layin' down some "jive." Shame on you, Karl. Have you at last no sense of decency?

There's little doubt that the Republicans are out to get Joe. After all, if Bush hadn't stolen the 2000 election, Joe might be president today - or still a heartbeat away. (Try harder Tipper!) Plus, he let the President kiss him! I'm no homophobic anti-semite, but according to Reverend Al Sharpton, this is probably the time that I should be laying in a stock of man-sized Holy Trojans for the coming of the End of the World.

Or something.

Seriously, folks. It has to be Rove, right? I mean, it couldn't be a Democratic operative or moonbat ticked off that Joe's going to run as an independent. Democrats don't stifle free speech, they bathe in it.

Like ducks in water.

High School

Caption - If You Dare

I am completely bereft of any ideas, flavors or colors, having been beaten to a intellectual pulp.

Henceforth, I'm thing outside of the fridge.

Boy-Howdy.

Once More to the Lake

We went fishing the first morning. I felt the same damp moss covering the worms in the bait can, and saw the dragonfly alight on the tip of my rod as it hovered a few inches from the surface of the water. It was the arrival of this fly that convinced me beyond any doubt that everything was as it always had been, that the years were a mirage and there had been no years. The small waves were the same, chucking the rowboat under the chin as we fished at anchor, and the boat was the same boat, the same color green and the ribs broken in the same places, and under the floorboards the same fresh-water leavings and debris--the dead hellgrammite, the wisps of moss, the rusty discarded fishhook, the dried blood from yesterday's catch. We stared silently at the tips of our rods, at the dragonflies that came and wells. I lowered the tip of mine into the water, tentatively, pensively dislodging the fly, which darted two feet away, poised, darted two feet back, and came to rest again a little farther up the rod. There had been no years between the ducking of this dragonfly and the other one--the one that was part of memory. I looked at the boy, who was silently watching his fly, and it was my hands that held his rod, my eyes watching. I felt dizzy and didn't know which rod I was at the end of....

"Once More to the Lake," by E.B. White

(posted by Portia)

New Survey Finds One In Three Americans Stark Raving Bonkers

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's official. According to a new Scripps Howeard/ Ohio University Poll, one third of the adult population in America believes that little green men are coming to eat their brains and drain their precious bodily fluids.

There's no other explanation.

Too Darn Hot

5:10 PM, the mercury is stuck at One Oh Three and it's
Too Darn Hot (Mel Torme does Cole Porter)

I'd like to sup with my baby tonight
fill the cup with my baby tonight
I'd like to sup with my baby tonight
fill the cup with my baby tonight
but I ain't up to my baby tonight
cause it's too darn hot
It's too darn hot
It's too darn hot

I'd like to coo with my baby tonight
and pitch the woo with my baby tonight
I'd like to coo with my baby tonight
and pitch the woo with my baby tonight
brother you fight my baby tonight
cause it's too darn hot
it's too darn hot

According to the Kinsey report
ev'ry average man you know
much prefers to play his favorite sport
when the temperature is low
but when the thermometer goes way up
and the weather is sizzling hot
Mister Pants, for romance, is not
cause it's too too
it's too darn hot, it's too darn hot
It's too too too too darn hot

Darn, it's hot.
(Posted by Portia)

Grounds For Annulment

Depending on what's between your legs, this may or may not be good news: There is no Emily, there is no Steven, there will be no divorce, New York style.

As several savvy HH readers surmised early on (save this author), the billboard, the blog--even the joint bank account--were all bogus. B-O-G-U-S. All part of a desparate clever viral marketing campaign for an upcoming Court TV show, Parco P.I. about some overweight, underloved Kojak look-alike gumshoe in New York City who tracks down spouses copulating with other people's spouses.


How totally unfun is that? Totally. On top of that, it sucks.

Folks, these days we're being duped big time--not by con men luring us into a game of three-card Monte or fast talking used car salesmen--by predatory viral marketing evangelists piggybacking on your my gullibility to do their low-budget word-of-mouth advertising, and the kicker is most times we I don't even know what they're selling or we're I'm promoting! What's wrong with this picture? What happened to wooing me? What happened to the good old days when smarmy advertisers did the talking? Two nasty words: Viral marketing.


Oh sure, the billboard/blog viral campaign was highly infectious effective in generating viral buzz (he told two friends, who told two friends, who told two friends, et. seq.) Within 24 hours, it was the talk of MSM, the blogworld and my "mailbox" while it tugged at the heartstrings (or something lower) of every Emily and Steven among us (or as a friend said after seeing the billboard "I think I've seen that episode.") It sucked us in with the possibility of someone else's "dirty laundry" being aired--in real time--right before our very eyes! Woo Hoo! The ultimate "get even" scenario touring right here in River City, and admission is free. Or so we thought...that is until we discovered that it wasn't Emily who was getting screwed it was us!

Well, I don't know about you but I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore. I don't like being duped, and I certainly don't like playing host to someone else's viral virus. I got enough on my plate. I say it's high time for some backlash, my friends. This rant goes out to you Channel 23:

Dear Court TV:

Do I have your attention now? I know all about you, you dirty, sneaky, immoral, unfaithful, audience-deprived slimeball. Eveything's caught on tape. Eveything's going down on your permanent record. After your audacious billboard stunt, you can kiss goodbye any chance that I will ever watch, tape or TiVo any of your programs. You are officially banned in my household. Not even your commercials will grace my clicker.

And it's not only me who will be boycotting your low-budget low-life campaign. I have friends, lots of them. Some of them even have TVs. I am an honorary guest blogger on a blog that is read by people all over the world including Arizona, Georgia, Maryland, Ohio, Texas and Virginia. I will spread the sorry details of your stealth marketing tactics far and wide through my own low-budget campaign of viral buzz beginning right here and now.

Your forebears on Madison Avenue warned us years ago "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature." Well, here's an update bucko: It's not nice to con John Q. Public, either.

Have a nice day.

P.S. I hope Parco P.I. turns out to be just another washed-up "dick" with too much time on his hands, no headlights in his future, and the cancellation blues on his lips.

(Posted by Portia)

An Immodest Proposal

Forty-five years ago this past May a young man from Massachusetts stood before a joint gathering of the House and Senate and challenged America to go to the moon. The timing was crucial. The Soviets had placed the first human being in orbit in January and the United States had countered with the sub-orbital flight of Alan Shepard just a few weeks prior to the President’s speech. “Now it is time to take longer strides,” Kennedy said, “time for a great new American enterprise--time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement, which in many ways may hold the key to our future on earth.”

Kennedy didn’t just tell Congress that an American astronaut will go to the moon, he laid down the gauntlet for every American to pick up.

First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish. We propose to accelerate the development of the appropriate lunar space craft. We propose to develop alternate liquid and solid fuel boosters, much larger than any now being developed, until certain which is superior. We propose additional funds for other engine development and for unmanned explorations--explorations which are particularly important for one purpose which this nation will never overlook: the survival of the man who first makes this daring flight. But in a very real sense, it will not be one man going to the moon--if we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation. For all of us must work to put him there.

Kennedy’s confidence in the ability of the Nation to achieve this daunting task was not boastful, but plainly spoken:

I believe we possess all the resources and talents necessary. But the facts of the matter are that we have never made the national decisions or marshalled the national resources required for such leadership. We have never specified long-range goals on an urgent time schedule, or managed our resources and our time so as to insure their fulfillment.

Recently I have had occasion to think of President Kennedy’s challenge as I have grappled to understand the troubling path upon which we Americans find ourselves. Tyrants in the Middle East and South America are holding the United States hostage to their oil, while the swiftly rising economies in China and India gobble ever more of the precious stuff. The Wall Street Journal recently featuresd an article about how melting ice packs and glaciers will cause earthquakes as the surface crust rebounds from the sudden loss of pressure. They are now growing strawberries in Greenland. A doctor friend of mine recently dumped his year-old Lexus and bought a Prius, telling me that he “had to do something about global warming for his kids’ sakes,” and this lady fears the heat wave in San Francisco is the beginning of the end. What used to pass for the irrational, it seems, is becoming the commonplace. But something clearly needs doing.

In 1961, Kennedy saw the challenge as space. Today, I see that same sort of challenge here on Earth. I propose that we adopt Kennedy’s model and challenge the Nation to, by 2016, develop the mechanisms and support structure to replace the internal combustion engine. Not only are we up to the challenge, I dare say that we are the only nation capable of meeting it. But to do it will require a truly national effort.

First, we must regrettably halt our space program for the time being. Space isn’t going anywhere. Mars will wait for us while we fix things here on Earth. Instead of building space stations and manned rockets, NASA and it engineers will be turned to developing an alternative energy source to power land based vehicles. Although hydrogen comes first to mind, the wizards at NASA will be given free rein to develop alternative fuels and power plants, much like Kennedy had promised them in 1961.

The goal here is not only to develop an alternative source of power, but to also make it practical and affordable. (General Motors has been working on hydrogen-powered cars, but how much of that crippled giant’s resources can possibly be going towards such efforts?) NASA has exactly the kind of experience and personnel to bring this new technology to fruition. Funding the project will be the savings generated by halting in manned space exploration, and whatever resources this Nation is willing to muster to achieve this extraordinary goal. Once the power source is designed and tested, the technology will be made available to manufacturers world wide. Call it America’s gift to the planet and a finger in the eye of the oil tyrants.

The project encompasses far more than just designing an inexpensive power plant, however. Technologies must be developed to produce the fuel for the vehicles in a manner that does not just shift energy consumption. Currently, most hydrogen is produced by using natural gas, although other methods are being studied. NASA’s experience and bankroll would go far to accelerate these studies.

Of course, there would have to be some serious effort placed in developing the infrastructure to deliver the alternative fuels to market. Currently there is a single hydrogen pump at a Shell station in Washington, D.C. (can you guess why?). But a Nation that built the interstate highway system can surely devise a method to pump hydrogen from production to distribution. Petroleum companies might be given a stake in the production of the fuel thereby generating their interest in supplying the marketplace. Automakers too, must see reward in the development of the technology. I place sufficient trust in capitalism that these things will sort themselves out once it’s known that the change is coming and there is no turning back.

I realize that the challenge I speak of is daunting, but again I am reminded of Kennedy’s words to Rice University in 1962:

We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.

We must choose to challenge ourselves again. To do great things "which in many ways may hold the key to our future on earth. " We must choose to do these things to save both our liberty, and our environment. I believe that we’re up to the task. Someone just has to put it to us.

I'm looking for that someone.

The Powers That Be

Friday, July 28th, 2006, is the 7th annual System Administrator Appreciation Day. On this special international day, give your System Administrator something that shows that you truly appreciate their hard work and dedication.

Let's face it, System Administrators get no respect 364 days a year. This is the day that all fellow System Administrators across the globe, will be showered with expensive sports cars and large piles of cash in appreciation of their diligent work. But seriously, we are asking for a nice token gift and some public acknowledgement. It's the least you could do.

Mr. Kanamit, Evil System Adminstrator courtesy of Attaboy.

How To Impress Girls

Take them out and treat them to a nice dinner. And then commit social suicide. Really.