Im Grinchin' Your Xmaz an' Framin' teh Dawg

This is the story of a kitteh whose heart was 2 sizes too small.

Sunday morning the dog woke me up like she always does -- roughly around 7, hyper and ready to play. As I was getting ready to take her for her walk, I noticed there was some shredded ribbon in the doorway to the guest bedroom, i.e.: Roxy's playroom. I started to yell at the dog, but further investigation revealed a still nicely wrapped present, sans ribbon, laying in the middle of the dog's toys. There were no doggie teeth marks, no doggie slobber, just the present placed neatly in the middle of the dog's toys. And the shredded ribbon. And the cat is nowhere to be found.

This morning when I went to feed the dog, I found a mauled ornament in front of the cabinet where we store the dog's food. It used to be one of those ball ornaments, but now it was missing the top part where the cap for the hanger fits. I picked up the the ball part of the ornament, and threw it away. I hauled the dogfood over to Roxy's dish to feed her and that's when I noticed a trail of ornabitz leading from the cabinet to her food and water bowls. Before I yelled at the dog for savaging an ornament, I checked the main pieces of the now deceased ornament and noticed that once again there were no dog sized teeth marks. No dog drool. Just a thrashed ornament around the dog's stuff and the kitteh is again nowhere to be found.

Grinch kitteh must be grasping for straws here. Destroying things around the house and then trying to frame the dog. Did I mention that I sprayed the greater tree area with no-scratch to keep kurious kats away? Did I mention that the cat likes to roll around and attempt to shred the no-scratched tree skirt? I have a masochistic, evil, mafia-esque, frame the dog cat on my hands.

You Can Thank Me Later, Or Not At All

Of all the Arts, Performance Art is the least understood and appreciated. It's pretty hard to interpret. It's probably the most mocked as well. Since this is the G'porium, you already know what I'm going to do. Here's the analysis:

• Fire -- the destructive power of war
• Helmet -- commentary on how the troops aren't adequately equipped
• Thong, Clogs (or are they cleats?), Tube socks, and an old, tubby Spaniard -- say what?

Verdict: Someone round up the ShortBus, a drool guard, a trank gun, and one of those white jackets with all the straps. We've got ourselves a live one here.

And for the record, I'm pretty sure that Oviedo doesn't have stuff just burning in the streets.

In Any Year, Today Sucks

Today is Bob Barker's birthday.

It's also Dionne Warwick's birthday.

And 20-however-many years ago "Mickey" was #1 on the charts.

That's one giant vortex of suckitude.

No Grinches Here

I'm happy to report that both the Major and I got over ourselves and had a nice little tete-a-tete this morning. Things are much better in condo-land.

We had a very nice, if somewhat long, day. We ran out to the Post Office to mail a few things and check on a package. The Post Office said they didn't have the Major's package. We got home from running around town, and there's a nice little note on the door saying: Hey, sorry we missed you, we've got a package for you. Love, USPS. Nice. Real nice.

The Khouria and the two of us must be on the same schedule because we too paid a visit to the Old Knavery. I took the Major there to look at the winter coats, and we left with just about everything but a winter coat. We did get some things that we needed though like a sweater, some henleys, long sleeved t-shirts, and I even scored a belt. I also managed to find a few gifts.

From there we had a nice relaxing lunch at Chilis, and yes we even had desert. We were about done with out excursion and we made a last stop at Target. We rounded up the basics that we needed for the week, but then we found this great Christmas Tree. We decided to get it because we haven't had one in years, and we had the extra money to afford it. However, we didn't see a single ornament that we liked at Target. (And we certainly didn't have enough to decorate all 7.5 feet of fake pre-lit tree.) So we went all over town looking for decent ornaments, and would you believe that there is nothing worthwile at our local craft store, or several other places we went to? We *finally* found some really nice stuff at Macy's of all places. I'll try to get some pics of it posted so there will be photodocumentation of this masterpiece.

After a short visit to the CompUSA, we get back home after 6 hours running around town. Since I'm such a masochist, I decided that it was time to rearrange the main living area (i.e.: living and dining room.) We basically flipped the layout of the living area so that the dining room is where the living room used to be and vice versa. It's one big open area with a pass through to the kitchen, so it's not a big deal. The good news is that we like this layout much better than what we had before. The better news is that we'll be able to get the super-comfy-sectional-sofa-of-watching-TV now, because we know it'll fit with this new layout. And best of all, the new layout gives a nice place for the Tree. The place is now officially all decked out for the holidays.

I lied, best of all, the animals have completely ignored the tree. There has been no batting at ornaments, climbing the tree or knocking the tree over. I hope this lasts for the rest of the season.

Beta!

I upgraded to the Beta version of Blogger today. It's a pretty powerful little gizmo, and I'm happy that it added in a bunch of features that I was really wanting. The coolest thing is that it is now very easy to manipulate and change your template. Drag and drop and you can change the order of stuff in your side bar. Point, click and you can change a text color.

The only thing I don't like is that there's no easy way to change the color of the Labels tag ... and I can't seem to get the side bar to extend all the way down the page. But, we'll take it for now.

Misadventuring with AJ

Most people have adventures that involve doing cool things, like exploring a new city, or checking out a new store. Some people even take a whole bunch of illegal drugs and go out to Nation and dance the night away. I am not one of these people.

Instead, I'm a person that the following happens to. Tuesday I got home a little bit late from work because the metro was all snarked up. I run into the house, free the dog and then run to the restroom cause after sitting on public transportation is enough to make anyone want to pee. I'm in such a hurry to get the dog out before she turns the sofa into a port-o-let, that I just grab her stuff. I stop just outside the door to make sure I have my keys -- when the dog jerks a little bit away from the door, which is just enough to through me off balance and cause the door to close all the way. locked. with my keys on the other side.

I decide to make the best of this situation and I take the dog out for a good long walk. She ran and played with her friends from about 6 until 7:30. Everyone went in from the tennis court then because it was just too cold to be outside any longer. I figured surely the Major would be home by now. Nope. I walked over to Neil's hoping he'd be home so I could grab my spare key. Not home either.

Now, I can't call anyone becuase my cell ran out of juice and it's inside charging -- and I don't actually know anyone's number: they're all programmed into my phonebook. I obviously can't trust that the Major will come home anytime in the foreseeable future because he's still avoiding me. I had to use my smartrip (i.e. my metrocard ... the one that I had just put $40.00 on) to jimmy the door open. Of course, the smartrip broke. Of course, I'm going to have to jump through a lot of hoops to get the money off of the broken card and onto a new one.

But, I'm glad I did it. It would have been $60.00 cheaper than a locksmith. And the Major didn't come home for another 1.5 hours.

Week in Review

Sunday

• Getting rid of the cold sore that ate my face
• Cold and blustery
• Not speaking with the Major
• Finishing HTML project for work at home

Friday

• Getting a new cold sore that will probably eat my face (again)
• Cold and blustery (after a mid-week warm-up)
• Not speaking with the Major (still)
• Getting the next phase of the HTML project (to work on at home)

As you can see, not much has changed in my life since Sunday. Sure, I got rid of one massive cold sore (we're talking State of Texas here ... that huge ... we've got scaring going on from this one) . But today while I was eating lunch, I discovered there's a new one brewing smack in the middle of my upper lip. It'll be hard to keep this one hidden. The last one started off really small but then spread -- by the time it was done growing it had suburbs in the middle of what would be my moustache, if I were trailer enough to grow one. Needless to say, I couldn't shave very often. I'm hoping this one will stay small, not call in any friends for a party, and not spread to my nose. Thankfully, I have a metric buttload of abreva. And in case anyone cares, this is all my grandmother's fault -- she gets them and she'd kiss us kids (who didn't know she was a vertiable Typhoid Mary).

Sunday was one of the coldest days here. It warmed up a bit during the week -- nothing too drastic mind you -- but now it's back down into the freeze-your-nipples-off degrees (i.e., the 20's with single digit wind chills) and it's so windy that it cuts through even the heaviest of coats. I am thankful it's not cold like up in Minnesota or Montana, but for here it's heinous.

After successfully attempting to set a world record for "pissing me off with the least number of words possible," a cold war started on Sunday. I'm happy to report that it's still going strong. There is no talking. There is lots of "I'm the Major and I'm going to stay out of the house as long as possible so I don't have to deal with the situation and hope that this will all blow over and I won't have to actually apologize for being a ridiculous idiot." While this could be considered entertainment for, say, Passions or Days of Our Lives, I don't find it particularly amusing. It's kind of hard to make things better when one of the parties involved stays away from the house until 8:30 or 9:30 or sometimes even 10:00 every night. (By the way, did you all watch Days of our Lives when Marlena got possessed by the Devil? Good stuff, good times. Especially when her master plan of evil was to loosen all the nuts on the bolts supporting the chandlier in the church all the while giggling hysterically. Coincidentally, that's roughly when I stopped watching.)

Finally, I spent a good portion of last weekend working on a project at home so I'd be like all caught up at work 'n' stuff. Well, it looks like I'll be getting more work to do at home this weekend.

Stick a fork in me. Please. I'm just done with this week.

Did You Hear The One About ...?

Really now. Come on. Are you for real?

There's some crazy Republican Congress Critter complaining about the new work schedule to begin with the 110th Congress. Something about how the Democrats are anti-family because of it.

You see, he's all bent out of shape because he'll now have to work -- wait for it -- a FIVE day work week! Just like everyone else in America. The previous schedule was apparently from mid-afternoon on Tuesday to late Thursday. By my count that's 2.5 days ... if they actually showed up to vote and do their jobs and stuff.

Sorry dude, but if you don't like the job, it's time to quit. And if you won't quit, your electorate will make sure you don't have a job.

(I'm too lazy today to round up the link ... but I'm sure a quick googling will yield the source.)

Say Whaa?!?!

Maybe I'm just the type of person that people -- including complete strangers -- feel comfortable telling me things that they wouldn't even tell their mothers. Shortly after I first moved to DC, I was out at JR's. I was minding my own business having a drink listening to music. You see, I had bad day at work and just wanted to relax before going home. A stranger walked up to me, and after he said hello -- this was his pickup line:

"Since I've moved to DC I've become such a racist."

I listened to him rant for as long as I could take it, and then politely excused myself -- but not before letting him know that one of my closest friends is black. OH NO! The horrors!

Last night I was out walking the dog, and we ran into a guy that we see on a somewhat regular basis. He's a nice enough guy, and his dog is one of the few in the neighborhood that plays well with Roxy. We were chit-chatting and out of nowhere he mentioned that he hated those Hispanics and how they've ruined the neighborhood he grew up in. I worked into the conversation about how I've lived and traveled extensively in Central America, and that I've got degrees in Latin American related areas. That effectively ended the racist train for the evening.

My question is why the hell do these people feel it's OK to talk about this crap with a complete stranger. Do I give off some type of bigot-vibe that I'm completely unaware of? As these people are complete strangers to me, I don't feel compelled to edcuate them -- but I will let them know that I don't share their views, and then leave them to rot.

It's really too bad, because now I'm going to have to find another dog for Roxy to play with.

On Stupidity

Why is it that some people are so terminally stupid? So much so that they ignore something hoping that it will go away? So much so that they will alter their daily routine and most likely contort their thought patterns? Do they not realize that this makes things worse?

Is it truly worth so much effort not to have to say the words "I'm sorry?" Why not just save the trouble, time and energy and get it over with? Eventually, one will have to apologize, and hurts accrue interest at 100% rate that's compounded daily.

Metro Etiquette: Things You Should Never Have To Express In Any Language Edition

This really isn't an etiquette issue as much as it is a "why does crazy happen to me" issue.

To wit, a sentence I never thought I'd construct in English or any other language:

This morning on my way to work, I was repeatedly checked out by an albino with a lazy eye and facial tics.

The War on Christmas: Colorado Edition

Today, we have this little nugget of joy compliments of some asshat in Colorado. Without getting into why HOAs can be very bad things, methinks the head of this HOA has missed the whole point of being an American and being a Christian.

Americans have this little thing we like to call Freedom of Speech. He would do well to remember that the homeowner has the right to express herself however she chooses as long as she doesn't harm anyone else. Secondly, the wreath in question is a simple reminder of the reason for the season. You know the Son of God, the Christ, oh and THE PRINCE OF PEACE.

But if you don't like peace, wreaths and especially peace sign shaped wreaths -- then I suppose you can always fire the committee that doesn't agree with your views and impose a nice little fine on the violator. I think the head of this HOA needs to be reminded why we have Christmas. Any volunteers?

Gobble Gobble

I would just like to take a moment and be thankful for my Thanksgiving. I spent the day entirely by myself. The only time I interacted with other people was on my trip to the 7-11 for a slurpee and when I talked to my mom. And that's just how I wanted the day to be.

I've never been that big on Thanksgiving. I'm indifferent towards turkey (usually it's pretty dry and gross); yams/sweet potatoes are foul and narsty; pumpkin pie has a texture and taste straight from the devil. My family usually does the whole big dinner thing, and then when it's done everyone just sits around and it's pretty darn boring.

So this year I cut out all the food I really don't like, skipped on the being bored and went straight for the let's-have-a-day-when-AJ-does-what-he-wants-to-do. I slept in. I played with the dog. I played video games. I watched some Steve Irwin wannabe get bit by a snouted cobra that he was chasing all over Namibia -- and then after going to the hospital, this moron went back to the place he was bitten and harassed the same cobra sommore. Something about getting the perfect cobra picture. Then I played some more video games. Finally, I curled up in bed with a good book with the dog and cat and eventually drifted off to sleep.

I'm telling you, it just doesn't get much better than that. So, I am abundantly grateful for a quiet low key day that was restful and refreshing. I hope everyone else enjoyed their thanksgiving.

Beltway

I decided to drive to work today versus taking public transportation. I wasn't really sure how often the buses would be running today, and I really didn't feel like spending up to 30 minutes at the busstop waiting for the bus.

I noticed something very odd on my drive this morning. 395 south was relatively not busy. 495 was a very strange thing. While I was in VA, the beltway was pretty packed -- a lot more traffic than I was expecting at 7:30 on a 'holiday.' The minute I crossed over into Maryland, all the traffic seemed to disappear.

Seriously, what's going on? Do people in VA work the day after Thanksgiving while MD stays home? Either way, I'm going to be really annoyed if there's a ton of traffic on my way home.

From the Archives

Becuase we needed some Holiday entertainment, our CEO faxed us a nice little poem by Ogden Nash about the year we had 2 Thanksgivings. There was also mention that most of us weren't old enough to remember when it actually happened. I was going to call schennigans, until I found this little bit of gobbledygook.

The truth, she is stranger than fiction.

[And really, the youngest person out there that would remember this -- probably somewhere in their 80s.]

Metro Etiquette: Large and in Charge Edition

Uncle AJ is back with more tales of tomfoolery and bad behavior on everyone's favorite form of public transportation.

First up, we have a young lady with a very bad attitude. Look little miss-thing (actually, you're not really a "little anything," more of a manitee, or hippo -- we'll settle on hippo because those things are mean too), I can appreciate that everyone is in a hurry to get to work in the morning. However, pushing your rather large self rudely by me and almost knocking me over while trying to get to the exit, isn't a very nice thing to do. You need to understand a few things: 1) I won't move while the train is still moving -- I have very poor balance, I'm a total klutz and I'm usually smacked out on vicodin -- it's just not safe for me to move until the train has come to a complete and total stop. 2) Don't get all pissy with me if I'm not moving once the train has stopped. You see all those people in front of me, and behind me, and to the side of me? I can't move until they move. So be patient and wait until people have started to exit the train before you propel your vast bulk through the crowd to get to the exit. And 3) this has nothing to do with me being white and you being black. It's really a matter of, well matter. You see, 2 things can't occupy the same space at the same time. And really, when was the last time you ever saw someone not make it off of the train? MORAL: Be patient and wait your turn -- and people aren't racists because they can't defy the laws of the universe to let you off the train quicker.

Next up we have some high quality hilarity. LESBIAN BREAK UP FIGHT! That's right, it's kind of like the Glorious Ladies of Wrestling, only it's on the platform at the Pentagon metro station. I have one thing to say to you both: you really should keep your personal drama in your own home. That being said, I LOVED THE PRODUCTION! You all know how to put on a show! I loved the braid/hair tossing (so that you hit each other in the face.) I loved the running up and down the escalators to the lower platform chasing and screaming at each other. I loved how one of you had a total meltdown, slid down the wall and just started bawling. Now, if you'd both lose a little weight, wear some skimpier clothing (but not until you've actually lost weight -- I really didn't need to see the thongs you were wearing) you'd be every straight man's dream. I am glad you did make up and continue your day together. I'm disappointed you all didn't make out. I mean really -- you'd already caused such a scene, what more would a nice kiss done? Keep up the good work ladies -- that was some high quality entertainment. MORAL: Lesbian break-ups in the metro need more tongue.

Finally, we have some one who can't speak English. I'm not that much of a grammar nazi -- if I can understand your meaning, it usually works for me. But this lady takes the cake. Overheard last night:

"It ain't gonna never happen"

With 5 words you've managed to break almost every point of grammar in the English language. Really this is more of a pet peeve of mine than anything else, but come on! At the very least you could have said "It ain't never gonna happen" or "Ain't gonna happen" I feel really sorry for whoever had to grade your compositions.

That's all for this edition of Metro with AJ ... stay tuned for more.

Template Update

I got bored with the old monochrome orange thing. So I switched the template. Also messed a bit with the XML coding to change a color or two. And finally added in the links I've been meaning to do forever. Enjoy!

A Tale of Tasers and Needles

Vicodin makes it really hard to concentrate, spell properly, and order your thoughts in a logical fashion. Yes, I'm still on vicodin. Today's a bad day for me -- as have most days this week. I had injection therapy a week ago, and it really didn't do all that much for me this time around. (Obviously, if I'm taking vicodin.)

I figured I'd post an update on the new busted hotness that is my neck. This has been a week of developments -- it's been like sweeps week in the melodrama that is my spinal cord. I had an EMG on Tuesday which was in parts midly annoying and in parts incredibly painful. I'm not really down with having electrified needles stuck in the sore spots on my neck.

The results were a little bit of Column A and some of Column B. The good news is that I don't have acute nerve damage -- which means I don't need immediate decompression surgery (i.e., removing the bulging part of the disk). The bad news is that there are clear signs of chronic radiculopathy. In English that means chronic nerve damage. And in understandable English it translates to: you have nerve damage that was caused at some point in the past which has become a chronic condition that we're going to have to figure out a way to manage while your body repairs itself.

Round One is over and the neck has won this match. Round Two starts on Dec. 22 when I have a follow-up consult with the RingLeaderOrthopedicSurgeon. A new plan of attack will be devised, and hopefully will yield better results. Until then, I'll be on my happy pills, so drop in -- I'm 57.4% less crotchy when narcotics are involved.

I Double-Dog Dare You

Ammendment 1 passed in VA. This is really the same thing as "I'm going to double-dog dare/tell you that those gays can't get married." Apparently, the existing law in VA banning same sex marriage wasn't enough. Apparently, the voters and lawmakers of the Commonwealth really wanted to be sure that 'those gays' can't get married. Nevermind that Ammendment 1 is a poorly written piece of law that is going to have some very interesting consequences -- and by interesting I mean negative.

I truly wonder what the logic was behind this. What motivated people to vote for the Ammendment even though it was completely unnecessary? Unless you wanted to say "not only can gays not get married, we're also not going to let them have civil unions or any other form of legal contract that recongizes that 2 gay partners are anything but legal strangers." News flash, just because gay marriage in all of its forms has been "outlawed" in Virginia, doesn't mean that those pesky gays aren't going to be meeting, falling in love, committing to spend their lives with each other and having lots of hot steamy buttsex. Gays and lesbians aren't suddenly going to stop existing; they're not going to go *poof* and evaporate in a cloud of fabulous pink smoke.

The only defense I've heard so far in support of the Ammendment is "It's in the Bible that homosexuality is a sin." Well, to be patently glib about that argument, killing people is a sin -- yet we let murderers on death row get married (provided that someone is willing to marry an inmate on death row.) Politicians get married all the time, and I can't think of a group of people that commit more sin than these people. So sinning doesn't appear to preclude one from getting married, unless, of course, you're sinning the gay way.

That last point might have seemed a bit trite, irrelevant and mocking. I suppose it was meant to be, but it was leading to this: About 50 years ago, a married couple from Tennessee moved to Virginia, and were thrown in jail -- because they were an interracial couple, and that was most definately not cool in the great state of Virginia. Bigots far and wide didn't think these 2 should be married, and unless I'm seriously mistaken people were talking about "preserving the sanctity of marriage." And some of the seriously deluded out there were quoting scripture about how this was bad. Eventually, the Supreme Court stepped in and in Loving vs. Virginia declared that Virginia's law against interracial marriage was unconstitutional.

My point being, the Bible and religion in general have been used for centuries to marginalize people and justify the prevailing social trends of the era. We've seen it used to say that Blacks deserve to be slaves, and that women are the lesser sex -- both statements that no modern Christian would ever support. I say it's high time that people start using the Bible and religion to support one another, love one another, and respect one another. In other words, Christians would do well to stop acting like Christians and start acting like Christ.

A Good Friend Is Hard To Find

I've been very introspective lately, and there's been one issue that's been on my mind more than any other. I've been wondering if I'm a bad friend, and if --in the specific case I'm thinking about-- there's even anything left there that could be called a friendship. To wit:

Recently, my best friend from college got married. I was unable to go because of my neck. I decided that it was probably not such a good idea because driving to the 7-11 is rather difficult for me. So a long plane trip and then all the events that are associated with a wedding are definately not within my abilities at this point in time.

A few months prior to the event, I called to let her know what had happened to my neck. I also mentioned that money was a little tight, as was vacation time -- so it would be very hard to swing a cross country trip for 2 people (flight, hotel, food, etc.). She was disappointed about my neck, but remained hopeful I would get better -- and she also said "if money's an issue you can always borrow some from your parents." This is were I start to get a little pissed off. Both of my parents are retired, and as their eldest child at 33 years old, I'm not going to ask them for money they don't have so I can go to a social event.

The wedding has come and gone, and I've been thinking about it and hoping it went well. But, I've also realized that if I hadn't been sick, I still wouldn't have went. Yes, there were the money issues to consider. Yes, there were work-related issues to consider. But what really keeps coming to the fore of my mind is that this person is supposedly my best friend. Yet, all communication we've had in the last 2 years has been me calling her. She almost never returns any calls, and I can't remember the last time she called me just to talk. Everytime we've seen each other, I've went to see her (or we've met up in our hometown when we were both home for the holidays).

Is is so wrong of me to be upset that someone who's supposed to be my best friend, doesn't call, doesn't come visit, hasn't been there for me in the last 2-3 years, but still wanted me to fly cross country and deal with all that a destination wedding entails? When she can't even pick up the phone once a month and say "hey, how are you?" I honestly think that I would have made a Herculean effort to attend if I had seen any glimmer that my friendship meant something to her.

Is it wrong of me to want a little acknowledgement and some friend-like behavior from someone who's asking me to take 3 days off work and spend a tidy sum? I'm really conflicted because my heart tells me that friends bend over backwards for each other, and don't ask anything in return. My head is telling me, can such a one-sided relationship truly be called a friendship at this point?

Fortunately, all this is moot, because I couldn't have gone because of the neck.

Necksorcism Update

My doctors are in agreement: Tests are needed to determine if I do or do not have nerve damage. They also agree that I've gotten all the benefits I'm going to get from PT at this point. They're conferencing this week to determine if surgery is the next step. And they put me back on vicodin for the pain.

I'm completely back to square one at this point. I have no idea what the course of treatment is going to be. The pain level is about the same as it initially was, but the numbness/tingling is significantly greater than when this first set in. I'm worried, nervous, scared, and of course the Major is out of town until next Friday. I don't fault him for this -- just the story of my life that bad things happen when I'm alone. I've gotten really good at being self-reliant because of this.

For some reason, this situation made me think of one of the many bouts of kidney stones I had in undergrad and graduate school. Two of my fellow RAs were the best friends you could ever hope for and took me to the hospital twice. When I came home, they asked if I needed anything, and offered to go to the grocery store for me. I gave them some money and said get basic sick stuff -- like cranberry juice, and ginger ale. Maybe some non-offense snacks like crackers.

About an hour later, these 2 bitches (I mean that in the most loving way possible) came back giggling their asses off with a bunch of grocery bags. It seemed that they deemed an entire rotisserie chicken was good idea -- along with some other food that they wanted to eat. Granted, it wasn't really what I had in mind, and kind of a waste of money -- but it did make me laugh. And it made me realize that they were really good friends. Now whereever you 2 are, get your punk-asses up here and keep me company! Daddy needs a rotisserie chicken!

Do Fries Go With That Pop

Ganked from Neil's place:

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Midland
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The South
The West
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

No big surprise here. I grew up in OH after all.

Democracy in Action

I'm a frequent reader of The Huffingpost, and I'm a little dismayed at the number of headlines on there today that have to deal with voter fraud, intimidation, and malfuctioning machines. You would think that elections would be untouchable -- they are, after all, the cornerstone of our democracy. You vote and that vote counts for something. At least in theory that's how it's supposed to work.

Reading all the headlines about 'robo-calls' made to voters to discourage them from voting, makes me ill. Reading all the headlines about malfunctioning machines makes me depressed. There was even an article about someone getting throttled by a poll worker. A POLL WORKER, people!

What have we come to that the majority of us read these headlines and there's no sense of outrage? Why isn't everyone out in the streets protesting about machines that mess-up frequently and are easily hackable? Why aren't people rioting because these machines don't leave a paper trail and the election can so easily be stolen? And why aren't people demanding that we use paper ballots until we get this technology right? Come on! Paper ballots show the lowest margin of error. It's really hard to mess up checking a box.

And lest you think to yourself, "but AJ, the huffpo is a liberal news blog." Yes, that is true. However, they have a good number of articles detailing both sides of the fence. Go check it out for some scaring reading.

Le Vote, C'est Chic

After a minor misadventure this morning, I made it to my assigned polling place. I was in and out in just under 10 minutes. I did have one of the machines that cut the end of Jim Webb's name off on the summary screen. It threw me for a loop initially -- even though I knew that this could be a problem in VA. A quick check of my sample ballot put my mind at ease, and I punched the "submit ballot" button.

Also, my polling place doesn't have touch-screen e-machines, but rather these machines use a scroll dial. It took some getting used to, which is a very bad thing. I'm pretty adaptable and tech savvy, and if these things threw me for a small loop, I can only imagine how the older folks are going to fare with them.

Get out and vote if you haven't already!

Sign Gnapping

I posted earlier about how Webb signs were spontaneously transmogrifing themselves into Allen signs in my neighborhood.

It turns out this is not an isolated event. I was reading some of the posts over at the huffingtonpost, and someone had note that the Webb signs were disappearing in their neck of the woods as well. I'll see if I can't round that up and link to it -- maybe I'll search for a news story.

I, for one, am looking forward to November 8. Then all the slime and meanness will disappear from the TV and airwaves for about 2 more years. Which is good, because I've had about all I can take this year.

PSA

Reminder to everyone out there:

Get out and vote tomorrow! I'd prefer if you voted for the Democratic candidate(s), because the current batch of Republicans have made a real dog's dinner of the place. I'm not sure that the Dems can do a better job, but at this point, it'd be really hard to do worse.

At any rate, go out and vote! Show your pride and patriotism! Be an American!

It's a great day to be gay

I think CNN.com was taken over by the gays today. I first saw the article about Dougie Howser being a big old 'mo. (note if you're gay and going to come out, that was the right way to do it.)

Then I saw the article about Haggard. Not Haggar the Horrible, or Haggar the Witch from Voltron, rahter the Minister of the Church that ate Colorado. The Haggard that apparently ordered up some hot and steamy gay sex with a side of crystal meth from a gay prostitute.

He first only copped to the meth accusations (most likely because that was the hard evidence), and said that he only got a massage from the gay hooker. Today, however he says that he has a sexual problem. Poor guy is probably going to be shipped off to some "cure-the-gays" camp. Regardless of his faith, or what his parishoners and higher-ups believe, what this man really needs is some good old fashioned compassion. What he needs is someone to understand that by supressing his sexuality, he's caused him, his family, and countless others a lot of pain. He needs kindness, support, and understanding. What he doesn't need is someone telling him that he's going to hell, or trying to cure him; this guy spent the last 30 years of his life supressing his urges, and look where it got him.

If you're gay or have gay urges and you feel like the solution is to suppress that, that's fine. AS LONG AS YOU'RE SINGLE. Don't go out an marry a member of the opposite sex, have kids, and build a life with that person to prove that you're straight. I don't care if you lie to yourself -- the only person you're harming is yourself. But once you drag innocent people in that have no clue, then I'm going to have to take issue with that.

Etiquette

Mr. AJ, master of etiquitte and proper behavior has a few tips for his fellow metro denizens. Please heed this advice, and our commutes and lives will be much better for it.

1) To Curry Boy on the 7B bus this morning. I love curry -- the yellow curry and the peanut curry are my favorites. They're quite tasty. I've even learned how to make peanut curry myself. However, you need to be aware of a few things. The bus is a closed environment with very poor ventilation. Therefore, it seems you need to be reminded that curry is not cologne, deodorant or fabic softener. It's also not a lotion, anti-itch powder, or shower gel. It's also not a smell that's very pleasant in over powering doses at 7:30 in the morning. So, tomorrow morning when you're getting ready, smell yourself, really smell yourself. If you smell anything other than the clean smell of soap, tell your boss you'll be in late, take another shower, and wash your clothes -- (not in the curry powder detergant, or you'll have to repeat these steps, and I'll beat your ass.)

2) To the stuck-up blonde on the Yellow line last night. I know the metro is a crowded place, especially durning rush hour. I know seats are hard to come by. I know the whole thing can be very frustrating and tiring after a long day. However, that does not give you the right to cold-clock me in the knee with your briefcase. (By the way, was that thing filled with bricks?) It also does mean that you walk icily by and pretend that nothing happened. It also does not mean that you stand just on the other side of the partition and pretend like you did nothing wrong. What you do is APOLOGIZE for hitting someone with your briefcase and/or briefcase accessories. If you don't, the next time you might not be so luck to have inflicted a great deal of pain on kind-hearted Mid-westerner, who will forgive you and be the bigger person. You might just hit a thug who will haul off and lay the smack down on your faux-riche ass. Hell, if you do it to me again, I will cause a scene. And I don't think either of us wants that delay in getting home.

So, fellow riders, heed my advice to Curryface and The BriefCase Banger. Also, extrapolate my advice to any situation you're unsure of. Stay tuned, next week, I'm sure I'll be back with more tips.

Conspicous Consumption

The AJ is a very happy camper today. I have a select few authors, TV programs, and video games that I get excited about and follow with any regularity. Today, my dear nuggets, Final Fantasy XII hit store shelves. A short jaunt out to Best Buy left my wallet a little lighter, but I came home the proud owner of a shiny brand new copy of my own. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, smarmy salesman at the GameStop. He told me a few weeks ago that if I didn't pre-order my copy at his store, there was no way that I would get a copy of it on release day. Well, foo-on-you! I have one! And there's about 100 other copies down the road at Best Buy.

More than being a video game, Final Fantasy games tend to have superb story lines. It's like playing a novel, the stories are so deep and complex. Final Fantasy X has had the best story line I've ever seen in a game to date. Additionally, there's always a lot to see and do in a FF game -- you can easily dump 100 hours into a game, and not do everything there is to be done.

So, I think we all know what I'm going to be doing until the end of the year.

Gettin' Slimy

I was driving to my local slevenry this evening when I noticed something very very odd. For the past 2 to 3 weeks, the signage for the upcoming election was split pretty evenly between Allen and Webb. You could tell that the Allen folks had come late to the party, because all his signs were placed directly in front of the Webb signs and also at the end of every island and median.

I may be drawing a connection that isn't there, but it seems that the newest poll results that have Webb ahead by 4 points drove the local Allen fans over the edge. Regardless, I can report that almost all of the Webb signs have been removed, and in their place are shiny new Allen signs. The few Webb signs that remain are kind of mangled, as if someone tried to pull them out and couldn't quite get them out of the ground.

Lest the naysayers say that I'm imagining this all, there are now a grand total of 4 Webb signs. I never bothered to count them all before this evening, but I know for a fact there were more than 4, as the ratio was more or less even before this evening. Also, the majority of the signs for Moran (D-House of Reps) have remained in their original locations. That's not surprising as a) no one really knows who he is and b) to the best of my knowledge his seat isn't really in jeopardy.

It just doesn't get much sleazier than this.

The Perils of Maturity

I have a co-worker who is consistantly a real pain in the butt. We shall call this person Snotty McDouchenozzle. Snotty is on a regular basis:

• stubborn
• contrary
• self-absorbed
• argumentative
• combative

In addition to these characteristics, Snotty also rarely takes responsibility for Snotty's projects, servers and other daily tasks; Snotty even goes as far as putty Snotty's personal mail in the outgoing mail bin. Snotty also refuses to use the pain killer that is provided by the office, and insists that I get another type just for Snotty. And Snotty throws a hissy fit if there isn't any in the office. As a thumbnail sketch, I think that captures Snotty's essence.

Today, Snotty came into my office and proclaimed that I needed to do a task. In 48 hours. So I start the basics of the task. At one point, Snotty had the nerve to check on me:

Snotty: How are things going in here?
Me: Alright, I suppose.
Snotty: You also need to do this, that and the other.
Me: Well, that will make this task a lot more difficult.
Snotty: No it won't. It's not difficult at all.
Me: Yes, it will. There'll be wiring and fixing and a whole bunch of other things.
Snotty: (snottily) NO, IT'S NOT DIFFICULT. (storms out).

Now, I wasn't saying I wouldn't do the job. I was just saying that it would make things a lot harder for me -- considering my neck issues (which are acting up.) And if Snotty is so concerned about this, why isn't Snotty volunteering to help? It is Snotty's project after all. I was so angry at Snotty, it was all I could do to contain my rage and not go fish Snotty's personal correspondance out of the mail bin and throw it in Snotty's face and proclaim "I am not your personal assistant. If you insist on treating me like dirt, don't expect personal favors from me." I contained myself, barely. The problem is I keep bottling this up, and one day I am going to explode and rip Snotty a new one.

I've tried talking to my boss about this -- we'll call the boss Advoidance McClure. Avoidance says that there's nothing we can do about Snotty. That's just the way Snotty is. Even though Avoidance admits that Snotty is disruptive, argumentative and hard to deal with. A. has repeatedly asked me to just suck it up, for the sake of maintaining peace in the office. A. has also stated that if necessary, it can be arranged that I don't have to work directly with Snotty. Call me crazy, and maybe I'm just not getting it -- but if you have a known disruptive force in the office, offer to make it so I don't have to deal with them (and it was noted that it has had to be done in the past), maybe this person shouldn't be working there anymore.

Now, I'm not gunning for Snotty to get fired. What I am gunning for is a way to deal with Snotty. Defang Snotty as it were. I realized today that getting Snotty to change isn't a viable option. So I need to come up with a strategy of dealing with Snotty. I think a good first step is to stop any and all conversations that don't relate directly to work. A second step is to establish some boundaries -- what I will and won't do. A third step is probably to let Snotty know that when Snotty's snottiness ensues, it will not be tolerated. Say something like "I appreciate what you're saying, but you will not speak to me in that tone or manner." Finally, I'm going to let Avoidance McClure know of my plans, and ask for support.

What do you all think?

Annodized Pots Are Great

Last year, we were at Williams Sonoma and bought some mulling spices to be used as potpourri. The kind you put in a pan on the stove and simmer in some water -- makes the whole house smell all nice. After he killed a sauce pan last year, I figured the lesson had been learned. (He wanted to make the house smell nice before I got home from work, so he set the pan on the stove, cranked it up to 8, and walked the dog ... for 30 minutes.) Siyonara copper bottom sauce pan.

Well, the Major provided a variation on a theme this morning. After I finished my morning ritual, I was feeding the dog. That's when I noticed that one of the burners was on. It's roughly the same time I smelt burnt potpourri. The Major decided that he wanted happy smells in the house last night, so he put the pan on the stove (on low, this time) and filled it with water. However, I had already went to sleep, and he came to bed shortly thereafter. The good news is that the house didn't burn down AND we were using a calphalon pan. So, all I had to do was run the pan under some water and the baked-on caked-on was no more, and the pan was as good as new.

Of course, the Major is going to be strictly supervised while near the stove from now on. He obviously can't be trusted with potpourri. (Yes, dear. I love you too.)

It Came from Planet Claire

Up is down, and the sky is green.

It's a known fact that politicians lie, but this is Ridiculous. Come on! "Stay the Course" has become a catch phrase. It was used in opposition to the Democrats who never once said "cut and run."

W must be living in some Orwellian fantasy land if he thinks we don't remember him saying "stay the course" before.

Even More Cowbell

Here's another Evil Twin story to make you happy.

Shortly after the great car-napping, my brother decided he was going to up the ante. It was January of our Junior year of high school, and the foreign exchange student (that I stayed with in Costa Rica) was up on his half of the exchange program.

At about midnight, my brother decides that he wants to start a fire. He preps the fireplace, but it won't stay lit. Being the smart cookie he is, he went and got BBQ lighter fluid. Still no luck, no fire. Apparently not wanting to be outsmarted by the fireplace, he pulls in the big guns. That's right, the gasoline cannister for the lawn mower. He douses the logs and throws a match on the fire. With predictable results. It's truly amazing what will happen when you don't open the flue.

This caused the smoke detector to go off, which woke up my sister, mother and the exchange student. Me, I slept through it. It also burned all the hair off the front of his body. When he got home from kiddy jail 3 days later, his eyebrows had just started to grow back in. I bet he was a real big hit there.

Oh, and I had the extreme priviledge of explaining where my brother had gone to the foreign exchange student. In Spanish.

This Thread Needs More Cowbell

With the news enough to make a sane persons blood boil posted over at Neil's and Jen's , I've decided that the world needs a little more happy. Sure, that story is profoundly disturbing, and I'll probably make a post about it later, but I've decided to write a run-on sentence and post about something happy.

I went to Petco this afternoon to get dog food for the labradork, and I also ended up picking up some new toys for her. It makes me happy thinking of how she's going to get all excited about a new toy, and then I get to see her romping and being silly. I found this toy called a cuz, which they have loads of at the dog park that we take Roxy to and she loves those toys, so I bought one for her.

I got home and gave it to her, and she happily pranced around the house making it squeak. Awhile later, it was time for her walk. We walked downstairs and she got to her favorite spot. She did her business in record time, and rushed back to the elevator. I was a bit confused, until I opened the door to the condo. She ran to her new toy and she hasn't stopped playing with it since. Occasionally, she'll look out from the guest bedroom to make sure I'm still around, wag her tail at me, then squeak her cuz and disappear back into the bedroom.

Happy dogs are truly good for the soul.

squeak, squeak, squeak!

Redux -- II

Many tests were had at the doctor's office. Chest x-rays, spirographs, and some weird inhale the pretty smoke thing. The doctor was really disappointed I didn't have asthmal pnemonia. Seriously, he was very bummed out that I just have bronchitis. He even went as far to say that maybe the tests weren't just good efforts on my part. Hello?! How hard is it to blow into a tube? How can you fail that test?

I've been put on some pretty massive antibiotics, but none of the cool cough medicine, because I'm violently allergic to codeine. My boss has quarentined me to my house. He doesn't want me coming in at all if there's even the remotest chance I'll pass this along. You know, because he's like going on vacation 'n stuff. I wonder if he's going to pay for all this time off he's forcing me to take. It's not like I made the decision to stay home, I was told to stay home.

I'm going to go take some theraflu, an antibiotic, grab the puppy and kitty and curl up in the bed. There shall be much sleep and Voltron watching in my future today.

Evil Twin

As Jen and I have discovered, we both have evil twins. That's so cool. Also, I seem to know A LOT of twins. One of my closest friends from high school, lives in the DC area, and yep, she's a twin. When I was growing up, my next door neighbors were twins. The people who lived behind me? Yeah, they had twin sons. Both houses on the corner down the street? Twins, and twins. Five doors down in the other direction? You guessed it, twins too. And there were about 5 sets of twins at my high school. Must be something in the water in the greater Toledo area.

Look forward to some blogging about my evil twin brother. I'm looking forward to sharing the stories. And for those of you that have evil twins, share your stories too. Or share your evil family member stories if you don't have a twin. We've all got at least one crazy growing on the family tree.

NOTE: I tell stories about my brother as a way of dealing with it. My parents used to try to hide how disruptive he was -- you know the whole keep the family secrets thing. So, I'll respect any decisions to tell or not to tell.

APPETIZER: When we were 15, my brother stole mom's car for a joy ride. To meet a girl he met at the roller rink. He managed to drive the 25 miles to the other side of town, where upon he promptly backed the car up into a porch trying to parallel park. He then fled the scene of the crime and ended up hitting another car in the parking lot of a 7-11. Kiddy jailarity ensued. Probation ensued. Weekly visits with the parole officer ensued. No license until he was 18 ensued. And finally, a letter from my parents to the insurance company telling them that they would never let him drive one of their cars or try to insure him if they wished to keep their coverage ensued.

Guilt

I've been feeling really conflicted about my job lately. Part of me feels like I've been out sick too much lately, but then I realize that I've had some legitimate health concerns that need to be taken care of. [Yeah, I ended a sentence with a preposition: Bite me.] I probably wouldn't feel as guilty about this if we were given more than 5 sick days a year. Five days don't get you very far when you have chronic conditions like migraines and allergies. Heaven forbid you actually get sick with the flu, or do something really crazy like bust your neck.

Also, I've been really bored at work. As in I don't really have a lot to do, so I spend a lot of my time surfing the internet. I've asked for things to do, and haven't really received any direction -- although I do have a new project on tap. It's relatively interesting so far, and promises to get a bit more complicated. So, in summary, I feel guilty because I know I could be doing a lot more than what I'm doing now.

The cherry on top of this whole thing, is that my paycheck was laying on my desk when I got to work this morning. The envelope was thicker than normal, so I actually opened this one. [I usually don't open my checks, because they're really just paystubs from my direct deposit.] Turns out there's a letter in it from the CEO praising my work and telling me how much they appreciate me.

Oh, any that my base salary has been increased (by a semi-substantial amount.) I'm not complaining about getting a raise. So, maybe I shouldn't feel so guilty after all -- or maybe I should feel more guilty. Screw it. I'm going to go shopping.

Sickness Redux

I had my very first needle to the neck yesterday, and all in all, it wasn't that bad of an experience. It didn't hurt, per se, it was more of an uncomfortable thing, or a weird sensation type of thing. In terms of general health, I felt pretty off after the experience -- light headed, dizzy, nauseated, stiff and sore. In terms of my neck pain, it's been dramatically reduced. So, we'll call this one even.

I'm still fighting whatever this cold is off. I drug myself into work this morning, and upon speaking with me my boss said "I'd rather you be at home than here, because I don't want anyone else to get sick." So, I got sent home to bask in the relative comfort of my own cozy home.

I do have an appointment with the doctor at 2:30 today. I figured since it's been a week and I'm still coughing hard enough that I sometimes vomit, I should get a professional involved in the situation. More news to follow. Wish me luck, I'm hoping this is just a really bad cold and nothing else.

Pain in My Culo

I've been fighting off a nasty cold since Weds. and I have to report that it's winning. The constant coughing and snotting and draining has me totally over myself. On the plus side, the Tylenol Day and Night Severe Cold stuff is doing a good job of making me feel more or less human. On the negative, I haven't been able to take any of my muscle relaxants or pain killers because they'll interact with each other and cause the world to explode. So, I'm in a lot of pain.

Of course, as of Friday, I wouldn't have been allowed to take any of my neck meds. Part of the injection 'therapy' is that one is not allowed to take any NSIADs for 72 hours prior to the procedure. And, of course, one (if not both) of my meds fall under that category.

I'm hoping this needle to the neck thing will help with the pain, but I have to confess that I'm getting a little weirded out by it. I've been having thoughts and dreams of what could go wrong. Like, say, getting paralysed, or having permanent nerve damage. I'm sure that these are common worries, and I shouldn't be worried about it at all, but I can't help it.

I can already tell I'm going to be a real nutcase come Monday morning when it's supposed to happen. Hopefully, all will go well. At the very least I don't have to go to work. Power of positive thinking, power of positive thinking.

Watch: October

And rounding out the trifecta are things I'm watching on TV and DVD. For some reason I've been watching a lot of anime and cartoons lately, but they're good programs.

• Howl's Moving Castle
• Voltron: Blue Lion Collection
• Avatar: The Last Airbender (Season 1)
• Battlestar Galactica (Season 3 -- TV)
• House (Season 3 -- TV)
• Doctor Who (Season 2 -- TV)
• Dead Like Me (TV)

I've got Charmed, Stargate SG-1, and Eden's Bowy on backlog, but I'll eventually get around to those. And the Major made me watch Lisa Lampanelli's stand up routine tonight. Oh. Sweet. Crassness. She has got one foul mouth on her -- for most of the show, my mouth was on the floor in shock that she said most of the things she said.

Play: October

If anyone's a gamer (or a gaymer, in the most crass, obnoxious, niche coining of a term I've read this year ... thanks for nothing ign.com), here's what I'm playing currently or will be shortly. Strap your controllers on and fire up the Playstation 2; it's a party.

• Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria
• Tales of the Abyss
• Final Fantasy XII
• The Legend of Zelda, Twilight Princess

And games I've recently finished playing:

• Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth
• Blade Dancer
• Grandia III

Yes, I'm a huge RPG junkie -- and it's very nice of Major Man to tolerate my habits.

Read: October

This is what I'm getting myself into this month. You'll most likely notice a dearth of Literature in comparision with literature. But hey, I've got my MA in Spanish Literature, so I read all the capital L literature I'm going to for quite some time.

• The Greatest Story Ever Sold (Author goes here)
• Gardens of the Moon (Steven Erikson)
• The Amulet of Samarkand (Jonathan Stroud)
• Shaman's Apprentice and Forest Mage (Robin Hobb)
• Spellbinder (Melanie Rawn)
• State of Denial (Bob Woodward)
• Druid's Sword (Sara Douglass)

Other books that I've recently read, and recommend:

• La Silla del aguila (Carlos Fuentes)
• House of Chains (Steven Erikson)
• Ilium and Olympus (Dan Simmons)
• The Troy Game (books 1-3) (Sara Douglass)
• Black Order (James Rollins)

There's something to be said for having a long commute on the metro, no?

Who's the Bestest Ever?

Major Tejas did something I was completely unaware of. Something very nice. Something that made the AJs of the world very happy.

He went on e-bay, and got me a replacement battery for my laptop and it came in the mail on Friday evening. This is the awesome, because my old battery worked for about 30 minutes and then kaplutz.

Yaay for Major Texas.

It's Hard to Find Good Help

I called the PT office this morning to cancel my appointment tomorrow, because the love of my life has infected me with his heinous cold/coughing illness/whatever brand of icky that he has/had.

The salient points in that last sentence: cancel appointment, tomorrow.

I just got a call from the woman that I spoke with. It appears that she canceled the appointment I had on Oct. 5, and wasn't sure why she did that. So, she wanted to verify which appointment I wanted canceled.

It was all I could do not to say "Me. no. come. tomorrow. Me. sick. You. Get?"

*sigh* When you're coughing so hard your ass muscles are pulled, you don't need to deal with that. (Sorry, K. Jen -- I know I said I'd try to keep comments about the Greater Rear-opolitan Metro Area to a minimum, but I'm trying to keep a sense of humor about this.)

I'm off to medicate myself. You all play nicely.

Coarsening Discourse

Here at the G'porium, I strive to keep standards to a minimum and morality at low, low prices. Today's effort to achieve this end, is partially inspired by a comment I read on another blog. (I'm not sure if she knows that I periodically peek in on her site, and we only really commuicate in the comments section over at Neil's. So, I'm not going to mention the blog by name.)

AJ wants you to think of the best professor you ever had in college (i.e., the one that had the biggest impact on you -- the one that pushed you to be the best, challenged you, etc.) The next part of AJ's experiment is for you to say if they were liberal or conservative (I'm not talking merely Repub. vs. Dem., it's the whole nine yards.) Then consider the worst professor you ever had and then assess their liberality or conservatism.

Because we use only the highest quality scientfic methods here at the G'porium -- we shall naturally over-generalize the results and come to conclusions that are 100% specious true. Post your findings in the comments section.

And seriously, I think we should take time out of our days to thank and/or appreciate those educators in our lives that made us want to strive to be something better.

Sah-Nah-Sah, Sah-Nah-SAH!

Ladies and Gentlemen!:

Your TV is no longer your best friend. Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie have mended their rift and are about to get busy and film the 5th installment of The Simple Life. Something about them being camp counselors. (I wonder if they're working at a summer camp for future Porn Stars?)

Your TV will punish you if you tune it to E! in the upcoming months when this trash lands on prime time.

Strange Ads

I've been seeing these really strange ads on the metro lately. They're print ads for a cell service called Pingo. However, it took me a long time to figure this out based on how the ads are set up.

I've seen 3 different Pingo ads so far, and they all follow the same formula. For example:

PINGO

Pang in Phuket.

I've also seen one for Priyanka in Panjaka. I wondered why Pingo had ads up all over the metro in foreign languages, and thought it was really odd. It wasn't until I ran across the ad with Paolo that I figured out what they were doing, even if I'd never heard of the city in Brazil they were referencing.

Is it just me or is there a glaring problem with this ad campaign? I'm relatively educated, and can find just about every major country on a map, and I didn't get it. Me thinks they forgot to factor in that Americans don't know were Portland is on map, so figuring out that Phuket is the name of a city somewhere in Thailand (I had to google that) definately isn't going to happen. Then when you chose names like Priyanka -- well, it's not Betty or Sue, so it's not likely that your average Joe is going to figure out that's a person's name.

It's sad that Americans are that ignorant about the world. However, I'm thinking an ad campaign that uses names of people and cities that start with the letter "p" to go with the "p" in Pingo isn't such a great idea. Sure the alliteration is catchy, but I think most people are going to scratch their heads and think "Hum, what is this?"

UPDATE: A little yahoo research revealed that Pingo is a calling card comany. Presumably the only calling card you'll ever need again. I tried writing that last sentence using nothing but words that started with the letter "p" and it just didn't work.

The Name Game

I've been meaning to propose a game for everyone to play. In my recent escapades at work, I've ran into a nice gentleman named LaNile. We're not going to talk about how whoever came up with that name for their child needs to have their head checked. People name their kids stupid things on a fairly regular basis. (See: Bad Baby Names for lots of entertainment.)

Shortly after meeting him, a friend and I decided that we needed to rename ourselves using the pattern that LaNile's parents came up with. Take a body of water in Africa then add a "La" in front of it, and presto! new name. We quickly released that we only knew of Lake Victoria, the Congo River and the Nile River, so we expanded the game to include names of countries. I suppose we could have also used names of other geological formations.

I'm now LaChad, and my partner in crime is LaTanzania.

The rules are simple:

1) Boy or girl you start with the prefix "LA" (since obviously LaNile's parents didn't get that memo).
2) Pick a body of water, a country name, a place name, etc. in Africa
3) Put the 2 together.
4) If the second half of your name starts with a vowel ... say, Ivory Coast then you are L'Ivory Coast. (I had to put this in there for Neil, because he's nit-picky like that.)

Go forth and name yourselves. And share the results.

Not Gonna Make Nice

So. Very. Pissed.

Conservatives, consider this a kick upside your collective heads. It's time to wake up and realize that the Republican Party as you know it has morphed into the biggest lying bunch of corrupt scoundrels that has ever graced this once-great nation. I'm not saying it's wrong to be a conservative, nor am I mocking your political views. I am saying your Party in its current incarnation needs to go. Your leaders are rallying the wagons behind Mark Foley and trotting out all sorts of excuses for his behavior. In the face of evidence that many of the Republican Top Brass knew about Foley's behavior at least 10 months prior to the story coming out, they're playing a nice little game of cover our collective asses, deny everything, blame everyone else and my personal favorites -- blame Clinton and the Democrats knew about this before we did and leaked it to the press for poltical advantage.

Wake up! Wrong is wrong is wrong. The victims here are a) the pages b) the American people. Consider this: If a teacher were to have done what Mark Foley did, they would have been fired immediately, and full investigation would have been launched. Any school officials that were even implicated in having prior knowledge and not acting upon it would be out on their ears. These are children we're talking about people! And anyone that knew about this and sat on it deserves to be immediately removed from office. Period.

But the Republicans -- who control the House, the Senate, the Executive and the Judiciary -- have promised an investigation. Call me cynical, but I don't see anyone getting in any trouble at all over this. Remember when Bill Clinton got a blow job from another consenting adult? Remember all the investigations? Remember all the time and money spent on that? Where's your outrage over an illegal and non-consentual act? Where's your outrage over people trying to cover this up? If consentual sex (albeit gross and skeezy) between adults is immoral, then Foley's acts are certainly past immoral. You can't have it both ways.

This liberal is done. D-O-N-E. done with this load. And this liberal wants all you conservatives out there to stop making excuses for these scumbags. See past whatever smoke screen comes out in the latest talking point. I'm not asking you to become liberals -- I'm asking you to hold your party responsible, and guide them back to what your party should be instead of what it's become.

Name-a-wench

I need everyone's help in coming up with names for my 2 PT instructors.

The nice-one (who gives me massages ... but also puts me in Traction).

And the mean-one (who gives me exercises that hurt).

Any suggestions?

Bait 'N' Switch (PT, Part 3)

I'm not a morning person. Not even a little bit. So, it was with great unenthusiasm that I hauled myself out of bed at 6:00 this morning to make it to my PT appointment at 7:30. The dog was whining to be let out, and after I kick-started my morning with a nice jolt of nicotine, we were ready to walk the pup.

While I was getting ready, I realized I was really looking forward to the 30 minute massage part of my PT routine. The Evil-One (aka, the necksorcist, or as Neil calls her Mistress Domina) can give me all the nasty exercises she wants -- but I'm still getting a nice massage. I made peace with being up that early in the morning.

I get to the PT office and 10 minutes into the massage The Good-One (aka, the massager) pulls off her mask and reveals that she's really the Devil. There will be no 30 minute massage today. Instead, I'm going to put you on the traction machine for 15 minutes. Yes, the traction machine -- a vertiable modern day "rack." She strapped my head down, tightened the neck brace, activated the evil-machine-of-doom, and then walked out of the room while giving me the following warning:

Push this button if it gets to be too much. If you need anything, ring this bell. You'll be done in 15 minutes.

How am I supposed to "ring the bell" when I'm strapped into this machine?!? And I've seen one too many bad sci-fi movies to be comfortable with machines like this. These are the machines that black, hispanic, gay and the "ugly,""fat," best-girl friend characters get decapitated in/on.

But you know what: I kinda liked it. My neck felt awesome when it was all over. And I almost fell asleep a few times.

Spinning the UnSpinnable

I want to say I'm totally shocked and appalled by the whole Foley affair. And to some extent, that's true. I'm not shocked that Foley was on the Child Safety commission and helped sponsor that law to protect children from pedophiles. (That seems to be kind of par for the course for our politicians. You can pretty much bet that if they're on a committee to be doing X, Y, or Z that they will be caught commiting a crime that involves X, Y, or Z.)

When I first read about this on Friday (thanks, huffingtonpost!), I thought to myself "wow, another sleazy Republican has been caught up in scandal." With each passing day, the Foley thing just gets odder and odder. The inital story I read only said that he was IM'ing/e-mailing underage pages with sexually explicit content. Later, it came out that he was trolling for some young boy loving.

Yesterday, I found out that Hastert and other leaders had known about this for 10 months, yet nothing was done about it -- other than telling Foley to break all contacts with the page. The president of the alumni pages said that when he was a page 5 (FIVE!?!??!) years ago, all the Republican pages were warned about Foley. Obviously, someone knew about Foley, yet no one did anything to actually stop him. (Head on over to abc.com for a really comprehesive set of articles on the Foley thing.)

Now, today we learn he was having cybersex with a page during a vote. Boehner is blaming Hastert. The President says something lame about how this is just "disgusting." Where is the outrage? Where is the condemnation? Why are people like Rush Limbaugh saying the Democrats "leaked" this story close to the election for political advantage, but praise FOX News for sitting on the story for a year and refusing to air it? Why hasn't every bloody politician, pundit, and anyone else involved in this sorry mess officially condemned Foley in the strongest language possible and promised full, thorough and swift investigation? Come on people, quit trying to spin this to save face -- no one loves a pedophile, the damage is done. If you want to gain points with the Americans, condemn this man for the criminal that he is!

But, of course that's not going to happen. Because Hastert is involved and doesn't want to lose his job. Boehner too. Falwell et. al won't speak up on this because it'll make the Republicans look bad. They're all too worried about losing the election. Congratulations guys ... instead of having it be just Foley -- you've managed to drag yourselves down too.

Happy Fall Y'all

It's a wonderful day out there. It's one of those days when you can just smell Fall in the air. A crispness, a dryness, the promise of leaves on the ground, the remembrance of the scent of apple cider. It's sunny, but not hot. Just cool enough that you can wear a nice sweater and no jacket. You know there may be a few more shorts and short-sleeved shirts in the future, but this, this is the day when you know it's time to get all the fall and winter clothes out of storage, and put most of your summer clothes away. It's a day when your dog comes in from outside smelling of dog -- but it's a crisp, clean dog smell. The kind that just makes you smile when she comes up to you wagging her tail and wants to lick you and hop in your lap. It's a day when the cat lazes in the sun for hours, and doesn't get up because he gets too hot. It's a day that makes you want to wear orange, or brown, or green. It's a day that to some marks the beginning of the end of the year, but to me it's the promise of rebirth and growth. It's a time for new beginnings, and transformations. It makes you want to go out and experience new things, or learn something new. And best of all, it's a day that promises a night that you can leave your windows open, yet crawl into bed and get cozy under the heavy comforter.

It's a wonderful day that makes you go and get new things for your house. Like a new sepia print of a tree lined street that you'd see on one of the smaller streets in Germany, or New England. Or maybe a zen rocks and palms triptych for your guest bathroom. It's a day that makes you want to buy a nice royal blue sweatshirt. But you don't spend too much time at the mall, because you just want to be outside, or at home enjoying your family.

It's a day that you want to share with friends, and you wish them all the happiness, joy and contentment the day brought you.

Feeling Better

I stayed home from work yesterday. I slept like a banshee. I'm talking I went to bed at 11:00 the night before, and got up at 7:00 to call into work (after 3 trips to the greater toilet district). Then I went back to bed after chatting with Neil for about 30 minutes. I slept on and off until 6:20 pm. I probably would have slept longer, but the dog was shaking uncontrolably in bed. So, I figured she needed to go out for a walk. She peed twice -- I'm talking Tom Hanks in a League of Their Own type of release here. Then she promptly had doggie-diarrhea in the slightly forested area near the tennis court. I've heard of dogs looking like their owners, but this is ridiculous. She's doing better now too.

Major Texas and I ordered a pizza and watched Doctor Who on Sci-Fi. Those crazy brits. Story line: good. Special effects: Cheddar. M.T. then checked some e-mail or whatever it is he does on the computer, and I fired up the new game I got for my PS2. All in all it was a very relaxing day/evening yesterday. It's rare that the both of us just get to kick back and relax and do the things we like to do for fun. A veritable Rockwell painting -- cat sleeping on the back of the couch, dog sleeping underneath him on the couch. M.T. and I relaxing.

Now we're getting ready to head down to Woodrbridge and maybe go to Ikea. I definately need to go to the Polo store and get a new sweatshirt. I realized that my favorite sweatshirt has definately seen better days, and needs to be replaced. The cuffs are fraying and it's got a lot of holes in the seems. I figure it's got about a year of laying-around-the-house use left in it, but that leaves me without a nice one to wear out in public. So, AJ's tip for the day: get yourself to the Polo Factory Store (or any place that sells Polo) and get yourself a nice sweatshirt. They're about $30.00 if you catch a good sale, and they're the most comfortable thing you'll ever own.

I'm off to spend some money. May everyone have a good, shiny happy people type of day.

On the Lighter Side

I have a very practical jokish relationship with God. And I like to think God appreciates my sense of humor.

I say things like "I think God is really a fat, black, Jewish lesbian" over a nice lunch with friends. Said comment garners the appropriate laughs, and we pack up to go see Bruce Almighty in the theater. Half-way through the movie, God responds with her own joke. I kid you not -- one of my front teeth abcesses and I'm in mind-blinding pain. The obligatory trip to the ER to figure out what's causing the pain (because of course this happens on a Sunday), then the trip to the dentist, and then the endodonist for the root canal, and back to the dentist for a crown. So, God obviously got the joke and took umbrage with me calling her fat. Never call the Divine fat, it's a recipe for disaster, because God will take the one-ups-manship to the next level.

Now, I don't recall having made any God jokes in the past 48 hours. So, I'm completely at a loss for why my ass has decided it's a juicer. I'm sure I thought that Fred Phelps was a total nut-job and I most likely said it aloud, but I don't think that's the cause of my Divinely-visited ass-plague. But on the off chance that this another of your pratical jokes God: UNCLE .... UNCLE. MAKE IT STOP!!!! (and I won't ever call you fat again!)

See, wasn't that a lot more entertaining than me just saying I've come down with the stomach flu?

Follow Up

I made a comment in the post below about Religion, and after posting it I realized 2 things.

1) I didn't feel very good about it, as it stood, and
2) I felt it needed a bit of explination, so:

Let me start by saying that the word that best describes my religious views is agnostic. When I was younger (say around until the time I was 16 or 17) I was very involved in my local church and did all sorts of things with the Youth Group, and Church Camp and the whole nine-yards. Then I started too actually look around me and see what the people in my Church were actually doing, and I realized it was some pretty un-Christian stuff. The last straw for me was the bully-pulpit one Sunday about how we all needed to tithe more so we could have an elevator put in the Church. I stopped going shortly thereafter. Last year I was stricken from the membership rolls because I hadn't attended services in over 10 years (duh, I've lived in VA for the past 10 years, not OH). I actually got a letter informing me of this, and that if I wanted to keep my membership I could either "come to a worship service, or give the traditional tithe to the church".

I also became dissillusioned with the Church when I realized that I was gay. I read lots of books to see if my faith and who I am were compatible. I eventually had to decide to be true to myself, because no matter what I did that wasn't going to change. Things might have turned out differently if I had access to the books that have been published since the 1980's and the internet, but I worked with what I had. And what I had wasn't very helpful. There was one particularly good book -- I've long since forgotten the title -- but amidst the sea of fire and brimstone, it wasn't enough to help me keep the faith. As I did then, as I do now, I refuse to believe that just by being who I am that I am a sinner, and the only way to get to heaven is for me to be something, somebody I'm not.

After much exploring, I settled on the view that every human has a spark of the divine in them. And if you listen close enough that spark can give you guidance and direction in life. It's kind of like deified self-reliance or spiritual individualism. Maybe it's just Senor Holy Ghost talking to me in my mind. It's kind of hard to explain, but it keeps me centered.

The long and the short of it boils down to: I've seen (and experienced) how institutioanlized religion is used to marginalize, demonize and manipulate people, so I'm always very mistrustful of it. I hate seeing whole Churches use Bible passages they don't even put in context to vilify whole groups of people. Even more, I hate seeing politicians using people's religious beliefs to further their own goals.

A person's relationship with the Divine should be personal and private, and not used to steer public policy. And I respect every person's relationship with their Faith.

So, if my previous post came across as being antagonistic towards Religion, now you know why.

Do You Smell That?

It must be election season.

I just read this and I'm alternatingly baffled and pissed off.

Greatest Threat? I don't think so. With all the other problems facing our country, that she would even make this claim is just sheer political pandering: Gotta keep the right-wing religio-nut jobs in a constant state of fear or we're gonna lose this election.

My apologies to my readers of Faith, but it's crap like this that makes me feel totally justified in thinking that Religion is a very bad thing. Or perhaps I should clarify and say the manipulation of people's religious beliefs is a very bad thing. Of course, this wouldn't be an issue if religion didn't exist.

PT, Part 2

The PT gods giveth and they taketh away.

The most excellent:
-- Each time I go, now I will get a head/neck/shoulders massage ... for 30 minutes.

The most heinous:
--They've added a new set of exercises to my list. And they're all painful. I'll stick a rolled towel under your shoulder blades and make you wave your arms around like a cheerleader on speed and see how much you like little miss perky gym leader.

In summary, I felt really good at the end of my first 30 minutes of PT (even got rid of my headache), but the second 30 minutes were torture. Screw the necksercises for today, I'm taking a nap.

[UPDATE:] I actually have 2 separate PT people treating me. Think along the lines of good cop, bad cop. The good one gives me neck massages, the bad one makes me use the arm bike and do painful stretches. But I know they're working as a team, so I know the evil is widespread and invasive.

Thank You for the Music

Just a quick note to thank everyone that's come by over the past few days, cased the joint, and left a comment or 2!

THANKS!

I'll respond to some of the comments a little bit later. I'm playing catch up at work today, because I have to get a lot done before I leave at noon for my PT appointment -- which is on the other side of town (near my house), so I won't be returning to work once I'm finished with PT. Kind of sad that I have to leave at noon to make a 2:30 appointment, no?

And for the record, this is a no-trepanning zone. Ice cream scoops are used solely for ice-cream -- or feel free to club each other with them, I don't care. Just don't scoop each others' brains out. Because I really don't want to have to say:

Don't make me pull this blog over! If you don't stop trepanning your sister, we're going right back to the house and no Chuck-E-Cheese for you!

A New Look

I chose a new template for the fall season. Hope you all like.

And I think it's a bit easier to read than the other one was. I'll eventually get around to cleaning up the links on the side of the page.

I've Been a Bad AJ

So I haven't been doing my necksercizes. Not even a little bit.

I know I should be, but somehow I just don't find the time in the day to tilt my head to the side and hold for 5 seconds. Plus all the other random combinations of tilt and hold that I'm supposed to be doing. I better do them today, because I've got PT tomorrow.

At least I have started sleeping on my side. So I can say to the PT people that I have done something that they've told me to do. The down side to this is the dog now has room on the bed to curl up next to me while I'm sleeping. And she's a bed hog.

Make Me Some Butter!

This is totally lame.

Gifts

Don't you just hate it when you have the perfect gift idea for someone, and then vendors refuse to comply with your desire to go to said store and acquire the gift you have in mind?

I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. I was able to purchase 50% of the gift I had in mind. If I chose to continue with the original plan, I'll have to special order the other item. Or it might be time to go back to the drawing board and revise this idea. And I do have some other ideas.

So, if the birthday person reads this post, know that I've been plotting your b-day and have been partially thwarted by the retail powers that be. Maybe I'll just have to get you a pink and purple polkadotted thong instead -- cause everyone loves ass-floss on their birthday.

Money Can Buy Happiness

What's really cool, and comes in an awesome blue tin?
...
...
...
Give up?

Why, it's the first 15 episodes of Voltron, of course! It's the Blue Lion collection. And the next collection will be out in November. This was my all time, bestest ever, most favorite cartoon when I was kid. And now I own it on DVD. I may just have to hide under the blankets and watch TV all night tonight.

Form feet and legs. Form arms and torso. And I'll form the head! Let's go Voltron Force!

Let the Healing Commence

I had my very first Physical Therapy session this morning. The first of at least 8 to be exact. All in all, it wasn't a bad experience. I have my own "case-worker" -- for lack of a better word, that will evaluate me each and every time I go to the clinic. There's also a PT instructor assigned to me, who's given me very specific excerises to do while I'm there, and also 2 times a day when I don't have PT.

I'll admit I was a little leary of the whole PT thing at first. It seems/ed a little too granola/she-she-la-la for my tastes. I guess at heart I'm a cut-em-open and slice out the offending problem type of guy. But I am willing to at least see if this PT stuff will work.

And Sarah will love the fact that part of my training routine involves the arm-bike ... otherwise known as the Arm-a-lator 4000. We used to watch the people across the alley in our old office on the Armatron and make fun of them. I deeply regret that -- the arm machine is no joke. That thing hurts! After 5 minutes my arms were on fire.

I'll keep a running update of my PT-saga. And to date, I don't think they like anything about me. I was told I need to improve my posture, my work space, and how I sleep. I can't even sleep correctly. And here I thought all one had to do was lay down. Apparently, laying on your stomach is verboten.

Here's to a new and improved me.

How not to do business

I'll try to keep this one short and sweet.

Nintendo has been working on the latest Zelda Game, for ages. It was due out in 2005, but they announced a delay to improve the title, and told fans to expect it in early 2006. Well, at E3 they announced their new news:

The Wii (their new console)[and what the hell type of name is Wii, anyway?!?!) will be released later this year (date to follow). Also, we've decided that the Zelda game will be released simulataneously for the Game Cube and the Wii on the Wii's launch date.

We now have a launch date for the Wii -- November 19th. But Nintendo has decided that only the Wii version of the Zelda game will be released on November 19th. Game Cube owners have to wait until Dec. 11th to get the game.

So, in summary -- you announce a game for a specific platform, then delay that game by over a year to improve it. During that year you're not really improving it, you're porting it to your new game system (which costs $250) and then you decide that you're going to make your currently installed user base wait 3 extra weeks for the game in the hopes that they'll buy a Wii and the game for the Wii, instead of waiting for the Game Cube game.

Well, Nintendo -- you lose. You fail. You see, I am going to by the Game Cube Version because I own a Game Cube, and over the past 3 years that I've owned one I've bought exactly 4 games for the system. You are not getting any more of my money outside of this next Zelda. And with your new controler the "wii-mote" where you actually have to hack and slash with the remote to make your character do things? -- that's a gimmick, not good game play. That'll get old real quick.

East Siiiiiiiiii-de!

I like following hurricane news. I like reading about natural disasters. I like reading weather.com. And I must say, I'm very disappointed with the Atlantic this year. What's wrong with you Atlantic? You're only up to Hurricane Gordon (no threat to land) and Hurri-something Helene (which may or may not destroy things.)

I'd like you my dear Atlantic, to take a good look at your sister -- the Pacific. She's been busy this year. She's already up to Tropical Storm Lane. That means she's 4 storms ahead of you. Yes, you may have produced Katrina, Rita and Wilma last year, but the Pacific gave us Typhoon Longwang. -- We'll call that one a draw. But you're losing this year, and you just can't rest on your laurels.

Besides, the "k" storm for you this year is "kirk," and I want to see the following headline:

Hurricane Kirk (Cameron) blows and blusters in South Beach.

So get to churning! My edu-tainment is depending on you!

Doctors always ask the wrong questions

I had a nice little 2 hour expedition to the Orthopedic Doctor's office yesterday. I brought them the results of the MRI I had done last Friday and they told me what the plan of attack is going to be for fixing my broke-butt neck. As an aside, MRIs are one of the most heinous forms of torture medical proceedures that exist. It's like the Iron Maiden minus the spikes.

Anyway, my doctor was a little surprised that the MRI technician never told me the results of the MRI, and he explained to me that I do indeed have a herniated disk (C 5-6). I get to go to physical therapy for the next 4 weeks and also have injections of steriods directly into the affected part of my neck.

Which brings me to my point about doctors asking the wrong questions. He asked me "Are you OK with needles?" I honestly responded "Yes, they don't really bother me." The question he needed to ask was "Are you OK with needles in your neck?" Which, of course, I'm not. But it's a lot better than surgery.

Finally, my course of treatment has elicited all sorts of unwanted "advice" from my boss. First there are the stories about how "so-and-so had this proceedure done and it wasn't so bad" to stories about "PT is useless." There's also the "you don't need all those drugs, just Motrin will suffice." And my favorites: "You should use the PT in the same complex as our office," and "You need to schedule your PT appointments around when I want you at work -- it'll mean you have to take more sick and/or vacation time, but that's what I think you should do."

Everyone's a critic.

Nerd Phantasia

Ecce Geekonem: Rejoice!

Voltron is coming to DVD this September.
Dungeons and Dragons (the cartoon) is coming to DVD this September.
Battlestar Galactica Season 2.5 is coming to DVD this September.

Steven Erickson's new book House of Chains is out in bookstores now.

Square-Enix's sequel to Valkerie Profile is coming to the PS2 in late September.
Final Fantasy XII for the PS2 is coming out in November.
The new Zelda for GameCube, et. al is out sometime this fall.

The new season of Battlestar Galactica airs new episodes on October 6.

Also, pick up a copy of Valkerie Profile: Lenneth for the PSP it's really entertaining.

All this should be enough to keep me YOU entertained for months to come.

Random Thoughts

I've been trolling the threads over at Fark and things were getting kind of heated (and interesting) in one of the Steve Irwin threads -- so it's related to yesterday's posting, but not really a follow-up.

The farkers seem to be divided into 2 distinct camps: those who think Irwin was a veritable man of giant bronze cajones, and those who think the man was an idiot deserving of a Darwin Award. The cajones camp are irritated that Darwinians are "disrespecting" him in death, and argue that Irwin can't be a recepient of a Darwin Award because he has spawned 2 kids. The Darwinites make jokes and say he can get and is deserving of a Darwin Award. They are fighting like wet cats in a sack. Which brings me to my random thought for the day: The Darwin Awards.

Some farker was kind enough to cut and paste a section from the Darwin Awards website that details what makes one eligible for a Darwin Award, and it clearly states that you can have offspring and still get a Darwin Award. Yet many over there are claiming "Well, those are the "rules" for an Award, but I think they're wrong and they just don't understand Darwinism/natural selection, and I know better, so my beliefs are the right ones." OK, what are these people not getting about the rules that the creator of the Darwin Awards set down? Everything has rules, and whether or not you agree with them doesn't mean they don't apply. It really is that simple.

Besides, the way I understand natural selection is that certain traits/genes end up being eliminated from the gene pool because they have some disadventageous affect for the affected organism(s). So, Irwin had 2 kids -- big deal. That does not mean he passed his "let's go out and poke at venemous spiders" gene on to his kids. They could grow up to be complete non-risk takers. So, you can still have kids sans the defective gene, and naturally select that gene out of the pool (in this case barb to the heart) and that particular trait from your genetic line has not contaminated the gene pool.

Additionally, creatures with maladaptive genes reproduce all the time -- yet over time those better suited to the environment produce more offspring and eventually the trait is eliminated from the gene pool. While it can happen in a single generation, it can also happen over time.

It also makes me think about this. I have an identical twin who has a nephew, but I have no kids of my own. If I die by some stupid act of my own which is Darwin Award worthy -- am I ineligible? Technically, my nephew carries 50% of my genes, so I live on in the gene pool. And what about those people who have may have siblings they don't know about? Because if the fark-darwinianin purists who worship Irwin's giant brass-ones have their say, the trait has to be eliminated completely from the gene pool. In which case, only people with the last existing copy of a Darwin Award gene who kill themselves in a remarkably spectaluar method are eligible for an Award.

And finally, Cojone Purists -- get a grip! The Darwin Awards are loosely based on evolutionary principles and are used as a means to poke fun at the stupid things that people do, which usually results in their (un)timely demise. To wit:

The weather's a little too rough to go out in the deep sea where we were going to film today, so let's take this time to get some footage about stingrays for another show I'm doing. Let's go to a place where we know they are and there are lots of them -- swimming around, hiding on the sea bed, you know just doing their whole manta ray thing in their natural manta ray environment. And then let's take a gander at one of the largest bull male manta rays we can find. Now, no one should be surprised that Mr. Irwin got stung! It is a little shocking that the ray managed a heart blow, but this is not surprising. Smart people avoid dangerous creatures. Smart people don't swim in ray infested waters. Smart people, well, they read the article that is actually linked to at Fark, and get all the facts before they open their mouths!