Publius & Co.

Lunch

Just took my lunch out of the microwave. It's a Green Guru frozen meal: Kofta Curry.

I love Indian food.

Anyhoo, the instructions start: Remove tray from carton and puncture film 2 to 3 times over vegetable portion only. The tray is divided into two sections; rice is in one section and the curry in the other.

It's a vegetarian meal. Which side is the vegetable portion?

I settled on the rice side. The meal tastes fine, though I wish it were spicier.

New Blog Showcase

Our Mission

On another note, who's hosting the next Carnival?

The Current Washington Sports Scene

It's not a good time to be a sports fan in Washington. By any stretch, DC is not really a good sports town--the truth is Washington is a great Redskins town, and other teams play here.

Washington's WUSA Freedom won their league championship, then the league folded.

In 2002, Washington's WNBA Mystics fell one game short of making it to the championship series. In 2003, the Mystics finished 9-25, 16 games out of first place and with the second-worst winning percentage (0.265) in the league.

Our one glimmer of hope, our professional men's soccer team DC United has made the playoffs for the first time in four years (after winning the first two MLS Championships) but you wouldn't know it. Their first playoff game is this Saturday; suffice it to say tickets are still available.

The Redskins stink. There's no way to sugarcoat it. They out-and-out stink, and they will continue to stink as long as majority owner Dan Snyder thinks he can micromanage the team his way. Such a strategy might work when running a communications company; it doesn't work in professional sports. Mark Maske wrote in a recent Washington POST article of a meeting betwixt owner and coach: The approximately six-hour get-together between Spurrier and Snyder....

Six hours?

Sally Jenkins wrote about that meeting:

Who meets for six hours? Maybe the U.N. Security Council. An intelligence debriefing could take six hours. It takes six hours to finalize a merger. But surely it shouldn't take six hours for something as trivial as a conversation between an NFL owner and his head coach.

Again (as Victor types while wearing one of his Redskins shirts) the Redskins stink to the highest of stinkstivity! My new nickname for them will be the Marigolds: Both the flower and the team are burgundy, gold, and stinkin' to high heaven.

The first game for our NBA team has raised the hopes of local basketball fans after the Wizards rolled over the Bulls, 99-74. I find it hard to imagine the Wizards as the one team that will save the sports soul of this town, so I won't. One game does not a season make.

To give the Wizards fans some perspective, my beloved Capitals rolled over the Islanders in their opener, then went on a winless streak not seen, quite possibly, since 1974.

Last nights game against the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim was pitiful. I think I can honestly say it was the Capitals worst-played game I've ever seen in my (approx.) thirteen years as a hockey fan (if you want worse, talk to the gf--she's been a Caps fan since 1974. She can tell you of some truly gawd-awful games. Fortunately for her, she wasn't at last nights game.).

The puck was rarely passed from Cap-to-Cap; it frequently went to empty ice or to a Duck. On power plays, the Ducks would have more shots shorthanded than the Caps would with the man advantage (including on one four-minute power play). The Caps couldn't keep the puck in the offensive zone, they couldn't get it out of their defensive zone, and you could see they didn't really give Olie the Rat's ass about the game, IMO.

For example, when Dainius Zubrus scored to put the Caps to within two points with three minutes to go (and the game could theoretically be tied up in those three minutes--I've seen the Caps do it in the past), there was practically no celebration by the Caps. They slapped hands a bit, then went to the center face-off circle, as if to say, "Just drop the freakin' puck and let's get this over with so I can go to bed."

The Caps were booed frequently by the fans in the third period, and they deserved it.

I'm trying to take some solace in the fact the Caps frequently start out slowly, but in the last couple of seasons, they at least played as if they wanted to win. Last night...there was no sense of urgency, no sense of a team at work on the ice. As a well-known Caps fan at my job site, I'm frequently stopped in the halls and asked, "So, what's wrong with the Caps?"

I feel there are three major problems with the Capitals:

First, I suspect morale is down because everyone realizes their job is on the line. Last week, they traded their former third-round draft pick and captain, Steve Konowalchuk, to the Colorado Avalanche. Kono had spent his entire career with the Caps; three years ago he was selected to succeed Adam Oates as captain (originally, as a co-captain with Brendan Witt). At the time, it was announced he was selected as captain because of his work ethic and leadership ability. He was a grinder, who gave 100% every time he was on the ice. When he was off the ice, it was noticeable. Former coach Ron Wilson said the Caps might well have won Game 2 of the 1998 Stanley Cup Finals had Kono not been injured (the Caps were swept by Detroit).

By any reckoning, Kono was a valuable member of the Capitals, and now he's gone. In an attempt to replace their one captain, the Caps announced six co-captains: Brendan Witt, Peter Bondra, Mike Grier, Robert Lang, Sergei Gonchar, and Jaromir Jagr. It wasn't lost on me that three of those have been mentioned in trade rumors, and the gf wondered if the "A" on their chest stood for "Alternate" or "Available."

The second problem would be Coach Cassidy. Nothing has really worked for the Capitals, and I wonder if he's ready to coach at the NHL level right now. The problem is there are no other coaches available right now, so, in spite of the numerous calls from the fans last night to, "FIRE CASSIDY!" we're stuck with him for awhile.

Former coach Ron Wilson took the Caps to their only trip to the Stanley Cup finals. He was weird; OTOH, he did things with the players to motivate them. Once they rode a roller coaster at a local amusment park for about twenty minutes so they could get used to the ups and downs of life. Another time, during a slump, he made everyone skate around in a circle for fifteen minutes so they could feel sorry for themselves. Cassidy, on the other hand, says stuff like, "We need to get some wins in."

As I said, "No shit, Sherlock." I can also ask, "Got any ideas on how to do that?"

Finally, Jaromir Jagr. It's hard to imagine a hockey player can go from consistently being in the top ten in scoring to...well, not being in the top ten. To say Jagr is in a slump at three goals and two assists in nine games is an understatement (for the two full seasons he's played with the Caps, he's averaged 78 pts/season; in eleven seasons with Pittsburgh he averaged 98.09 pts/season). You could almost say he's not been himself lately.

In fact, that has been said. In an October 21 article in the Washington POST, Jason LaCanfora observed:

In a recent story on the breakup between Jagr and his girlfriend, the Czech paper Lidove Noviny reported that Jagr says he has been unable to eat or sleep. Jagr, who is 6 feet 3, reported to training camp nearly 15 pounds lighter this year. . .Jagr has always been close to his family, and his parents had lived with him since he came to the United States as a teenager. . . But lately Jagr has been alone in his new home near Annapolis. His mother arrived from the Czech Republic last week for a visit, but she will not live with Jagr this season.

"Nobody was here with me," Jagr said . . ."That's why it was so tough for me, because I did not have friends or family over here with me."

Robert Lang, a fellow Czech and longtime teammate, noticed a change in his friend during training camp. He was not as bubbly as usual when the players gathered. Jagr made fewer jokes.

Last month, in the September 8, 2003 issue of Sports Illustrated, L. Ron Wertheim wrote on depression in professional sports. Sadly I no longer have that issue, nor is the article available online, but I was surprised at how widespread Mr. Wertheim reported the problem was, and I was absolutly shocked at some of the names mentioned: Jimmy Shea. Terry Bradshaw. Lots of others.

I'm sure I sound like an armchair shrink, but I strongly suspect Jaromir Jagr might well be clinically depressed. A breakup with his girlfriend, no family living with or near him, an inability to eat and sleep, not cracking jokes...those are danger signs to me. Years ago, the Caps had a staff psychologist--I don't know if they still have one, but if not, it might be a worthwhile investment.

There are certainly other factors contributing to the Caps current slump; I'll touch on just one of them. Majority owner Ted Leonsis is, as far as the fans are concerned, a cheerleader. His first year of ownership his e-mail address was flashed on the Telescreen at the MCI Center on a regular basis; he reportedly answered every message recieved (including mine, which was basically an acknowledgement he had received the note-but it was specific enough to suggest he had actually read it). He sometimes spends some time on the concourse level before games, mingling with the fans, and he attends every home game (though I didn't see him in his box until about midway through the first period).

We'd be silly to think he's a hands-off guy; recent events and attempts to trade Jagr show he has his hand very much in the goings-on of the team. Unlike Dan Snyder, though, it has always appeared he let G.M. George McPhee and Coach Cassidy run the team. . .

. . .but not according to Sports Illustrated. The Inside the NHL department of the current issue (Nov. 3, 2003) contains this little blurb from Pierre McGuire:

Don't be surprised if the Capitals. . .fire either G.M. George McPhee or coach Bruce Cassidy shortly. The blame, however, lies with owner Ted Leonsis, who insisted that Washington trade for Jaromir Jagr. . .then signed middling center Robert Lang a year later. Both players have been terrible disappointments and are untradable because of the irresponsible contracts Leonsis gave them. . .

The message boards at the Caps website are less kind to Leonsis:

Don't know why (Leonsis) should be steamed. He's reaping what he's sowed after last season's playoffs. He didn't want to spend anymore money, especially on D. He's so obsessed with cutting payroll that he's forgotten that there's a season to be played. Until he wakes up about at least giving (GM McPhee) some leeway in spending and dealing, he's going to be steamed on many nights.

There are other opinions on the boards that I won't share with you, mostly because I'd like to keep this a PG-13 rated blog.

Tomorrow night, the Caps go up against the Atlanta Thrashers, who are currently tied for second overall in the NHL (tied with St. Louis at 13 points; Boston is in first place at 14 points. The Caps are dead last at 3 points). To be honest, I'm not expecting the Caps to win. After all, it is still October, and the Caps are frequently in a slump in October.

But I'd really, really, really like for them to play with a little heart tomorrow night.

Bloggers Block.

Nothing has really inspired me lately. Not the rats, not the guinea pigs, not the dog, certainly not the 'Skins, not even Silverblue, not nuthin'. Can't even find some ideas to steal from annika. I'm just blogger blocked.

(Except in the comments at Madfish Willies. I was pretty inspired there, but I don't think that counts, especially since he asked for it and all.)

I am going to the Caps (talk about a lack of inspiration) game tonight, which means I'll probably go to Hooters, and believe it or not, I probably won't get any inspiration there, either.

(You should know I really go there for the wings--just ask the gf. Hooter's 911 chicken wings are one of my favorite foods in the world.)

Anyway, Dave Fay of the Washington Times wrote in yesterday's sports section, "Like leaves, (the) Caps fall every October," and this year is no exception. Nor was last year, nor the year before, nor the year before that.

That still doesn't make it any easier to take. C'mon, guys, you gotta start winning again sometime!

Especially on November 8, when y'all play Ted's Sharks.

Hey, Ted! You going to the game?

California Dreamin'

Probably that it starts to rain for forty days and forty nights and puts out the fires. I've got family all up and down California. I've called my father (in Maryland) and he confirmed one place my family isn't is the San Diego area.

Just so you know, here's an image I found of the fires and smoke plumes:

More images can be found at the NOAA Fire Events website.

Good luck, folks. Remember: Your life is more important than your home.

EDIT to change the big fat picture to a smaller, cropped picture.

Jen is right and everyone else is wrong (except for my gf).

In her ever-popular Ask Jen! segment, my Munuvian blogsis Jen was asked by Paige:

"A hunter leaves his tent and travels 10 miles south, then ten miles east. At this point, he kills a bear, and then drags the bear 10 miles north to his tent. What color was the bear?"

Jen's answer, based on the information given, could amount to nothing more than a guess, and she made a pretty good one: I'm the first to admit math was never my strong suit, but I think it was a black bear and he's in the wrong tent. Someone will have to check my work and correct me if I'm wrong.

Sounded good to me. I mean, there's no way you can tell the color of a freakin' bear from knowledge only of the path taken. I was especially taken with her declaration the hunter was in the wrong tent.

But not so, according to my Munuvian blogbro Jim, who commented in Jen's original post:

The bear was white. The only place you can walk 10 miles south, 10 miles east and 10 miles north and be back at your starting point is the north pole. Of course there are no bears anywhere near the actual north pole so it's sort of a trick question.

For some strange reason--I assume she got a knock on the head or something--Jen agreed with Jim.

Proclaiming herself wrong was the only time Jen was--uhh--wrong. Her original answer was more correct than Jim's was, and I'll prove it.

In his answer, Jim says the bear was white, and offers as proof the fact that, "The only place you can walk 10 miles south, 10 miles east and 10 miles north and be back at your starting point is the north pole."

That is factually correct. But he continues, "Of course there are no bears anywhere near the actual north pole so it's sort of a trick question."

Jim, my blogbro, an answer based on a false premise is, in itself, almost certainly false (I include the caveat almost certainly because lucky guesses do occur). In this case, though, if you are at the North Pole, with no bears "anywhere near" it (as Jim states, and ten miles away certainly counts as somewhere near the pole in my book), then you can shoot no bear, be it white, black, brown, or blurple.

Therefore, Jim's answer is wrong. I say Jen's answer is more correct, simply because Jim's cannot be correct at all, and at least there is a possibility the bear shot by Paige's theoretical hunter was black.

Further, there's no tent at the North Pole because everyone knows Santa's workshop is located there, and he's expanded something awful lately. There simply is no room for a tent at exactly the North Pole, which is where you'd have to start from in order to walk south, than east, than north, in order to end up exactly where you started. Heck, even if you managed to pitch a tent in the interior office right over the Pole, you'd have to deal with the hallways, other offices, cubicles, reindeer stalls, and the security elves as you tried to leave. You can't walk in a straight line outta there to save your life.

You start from anywhere else, you sure as shit don't end up in your own tent, so Jen was definitely positively, absolutely correct on that part.

For the record, I tried to find data on the population of black bears vs. brown/grizzly vs. polar bears (koala bears are marsupials, so I didn't give my rats ass about them), to see if Jen might have been right about the bear color (more bears of a certain color means there's a better chance one of those would get shot, is how I figured it),and I couldn't find the population data. If lunch were longer maybe, but for now we'll just have to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I was trying for a Martini.

For Madfish Willie:

Congratulations! You're a Long Island Iced Tea!


What Drink Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I love martinis. I keep the vermouth in the 'fridge and the gin in the freezer right next to the stainless-steel martini glasses. You gotta make it fast, because if you do it fast enough, your lower lip freezes to the steel for a few moments. Now, that's a cold martini!

And it's served with an olive, of course. At home I use only one, because the steel glasses are on the small side, but Frank Sinatra knew how many olives a martini should have: Two. One for you, and one for the next beautiful woman to walk into the bar.

Man, I miss that guy. He shoulda recorded some more music with Tommy Dorsey, though.

Redskins bye week.

At least they're not going to lose today.

What time is it?

I, too, have set my time clock to UTC, which I *hope* is equal to GMT, which is equal to Zulu time. I've also set my dates to appear in Suomi, just because I can.

Watching the Caps game...

...quick interview excerpt with Cassidy: "We've got to get a few wins..."

Well, no shit, Sherlock. And Nieuwendyk just scored at 1:thirty-something of the third. Toronto 3-1.

Throw another shrimp on the barbie, Pixy!

We're on our way!

Life when your team stinks.

The 'Skins are playing about as well as I expected--that is, they're stinking to high heaven. I blame Snyder, as does pretty much every Redkins fan. Anyhoo, a friend just sent me this joke:

Little Johnny was in his 4th grade class when the teacher asked the
children what their fathers did for a living. All the typical answers
came up -- fireman, policeman, salesman, etc. Johnny was being
uncharacteristically quiet and so the teacher asked him about his father.

"My father's an exotic dancer in a gay cabaret and takes off all his
clothes in front of other men Sometimes, if the offer's really good, he'll go
out to the alley with some guy and make love with him for money."

The teacher, obviously shaken by this statement, hurriedly set the other
children to work on some coloring, and took Little Johnny aside to ask
him, "Is that really true about your father?"

"No," said Johnny, "He plays for the Washington Redskins, but I was too
embarrassed to say so."

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

I know exactly how little Johnny feels.

New Blog Showcase Votes

Irreconcilable Musings

Heather eats the candy bar, so you won't have to.

My Munuvian Goddaughter Heather did a scientifical-type experiment comparing the nutritional value of a so-called lo-carb bar against a candy bar. I wasn't too surprised at the results she got once the field was leveled.

Also, I really liked my headline, and I had to use it.

More Silverblue!

Headed over to Silverblue's again, and I found this post, which ties in nicely with a previous post of mine, that happened to be inspired by the same Silverblue.

Well, $#!+

The Washington Capitals traded left-winger & Captain Steve Konowalchuk (along with a 2004 draft pick) to the Colorado Avalanche for Bates Battaglia and the rights to 2002 first-round pick Jonas Johansson.

Not only does this cost the Caps a left-winger who never gives up, now three of my five rats are named for *former* Capitals.

I'm hoping the gf will post about what happened when some of her former favorite players were traded.

Grillin' in Virginia

Headed over to Silverblue's during lunch, looking for some jokes, and I found this instead: As of Oct. 1, it's illegal to use an open-flame grill on wooden balconies or on patios within 10 feet of a combustible building, meaning just about any structure not made of brick (from the Virginian-Pilot).

If you know me, you know I like grillin'. See?

Victor grillin' some beer-can chicken

And I don't use no girly-boy propane grill, neither. Nope. Real charcoal, not briquets, started with a chimney starter and newspaper (faster than lighter fluid, believe it or not). I get smoke and flame and embers floating up into the sky and everything.

An I think this law is the best thing since sliced bread. Yep. The very reasonable reason was given by Glenn Dean, a safety engineer with the Virginia state fire marshal's office: "The idea is that you're trying to eliminate the amount of fuel that can leak or migrate.'' That's propane he's talking about, and while propane can be turned off quickly...you've no real way of knowing if you've got a leak, and gas leaks are, to say the least, cause for concern.

The reason Virginia wants this law in place is to save people from other people's stupidity: If you're in a single-family home and you set fire to your deck, the only people you hurt will be your own family. But if you set fire to your drapes because you've got the door to the balcony open while you're getting another beer...you're putting a lot of people out on the streets due to your lack of attention.

Check out the counter-argument:

`I think it's ridiculous,'' said Diana Sepulveda, who lives in a condo in the Riverwalk section of Chesapeake.

She and her husband have a small grill they use on their patio.

``If you're constantly watching your grill while you're grilling and not leaving it unattended, there should not be an issue,'' Sepulveda said.

What Ms. Sepulveda doesn't realize is that most of the population does not constantly watch their grill, every second it's hot (and I'd bet a paycheck Ms. Sepulveda doesn't, either--hells bells, *I* don't, to be perfectly honest)--and that constantly should include watching the embers after you're done grillin'.

I'll draw you a picture: Ms. Sepulveda cooks her steaks, carries them into her condo, and eats.

Didja notice what's missing in that picture?

No?

Where was the part about, "Put the fire out before eating so that I don't have to worry about hot embers catching the deck on fire?"

OK, Ms. Sepulveda said you should be constantly watching your grill, "while you're grilling," but just because you've finished grillin' your steak does not mean the grill is magically safe while you're eating. Nope.

Therefore, if she's eating her steak while the coals are still hot, she is not "constantly watching (her) grill" and it becomes an issue. And a perfectly reasonable one at that.

In its own way, this touches on something I feel very strongly about: Evolution in Action. See, if Ms. Sepulveda had a single dwelling home, I'd encourage her to play with matches, use candles during power outages, run with scissors, blow-dry her hair in the bathtub...anything she wanted to do. She does any of those things and slips, the only person who'd get hurt would be her.

Heck, she could drive drunk, run red lights, cross the street anywhere she wanted to...IF the only person she would harm would be herself. If she only killed herself, I'd consider that Natural Selection.

It's when her actions might harm me (and, by extension, her innocent neighbors) does the local government find it necessary to make common sense into law.

And, quite frankly, I'm in favor of a law that protects me from the stupidity of others.

Those Wacky Aussies!

An experiment started in 1927 is still going strong.

When I die, I want to be reincarnated as one of my rats.

From left to right: Kono (or Metro), Calle, and Olie. Splayed across the top: Metro (or Kono).

St. Louis 4, Washington 1

That game really sucked.

This Weekend's Doings

I went to closing ceremonies for the Tour of Hope this morning. Having participated in 11 similar events (Pallotta Teamworks AIDS Rides and Breast Cancer 3-Days), I figured I'd be pretty jaded. Show up, listen to some speeches, take some pictures, and leave.

I was wrong.

You see, my mother died from cervical cancer when I was twelve. Twelve.

That's younger than you'd think. My family has had cats that lived for more then twelve years. Dig it: I knew Mai Tai the Cat longer than I knew my own mother.

My father, a few years ago, had a malignant melanoma removed from his face. I wrote about my stepmother's breast cancer experience last month.

This affected me more than I thought it would, though I didn't cry. It made me realize that if I, or anyone else, were diagnosed with cancer right now, we'd have a helluva chance of beating it.

Dr. Andrew von Eschenbach, the Director of the National Cancer Institute, spoke about the advances made in the last thirty years: When Lance was born in 1971, the odds of a man living, a man who had been diagnosed with testicular cancer that had mestastisized into his lungs and into his brain...well, his odds of living were non-existent. Jump forward thirty years, and that same man can not only survive...he can win the Tour de France.

I saw this happen myself. My mother was diagnosed with cervical cancer in the early 70's. She basically lived in the hospital for more than two years, and she died. About thirty years later, my stempmother was diagnosed, treated, and has been cancer-free for over two years. A lot of that is because her cancer was caught very early (and that can be credited to the increase in cancer awareness over the last thirty years), and a lot of that are the advances made in cancer treatment over the last thirty years.

(Just in case you're wondering: My stepmother does not plan to race in the Tour de France anytime soon :) )

Mention was made of the importance of a healthy lifestyle in helping prevent cancer. We heard how important early detection was in helping one beat cancer. The importance of clinical trials in developing new treatment techniques was emphasized by one and all.

So I stood there, and the crowd was asked how many people there had been diagnosed with cancer at one time, and several hands went up. Then we were asked how many of us knew someone who had been diagnosed with cancer, and almost every hand (including mine) went up. Then we were asked how many of us expected to get cancer in our lifetime.

A lot of hands went up, not as many as went up when we were asked if we knew anybody with cancer, more than went up when we were asked if we had been diagnosed with cancer. My hand did not.

After listening to the speeches and the stories and the testimonials, I found I had been filled with hope.

There were two concentric circles of glass (or plastic) panels, with this pledge above them, and volunteers offering pens to those who wished to write their own message of hope or remembrance.

I originally wrote a dedication to my three parents--several minutes later, I remembered another friend who has beaten cancer, and I added her initials as a postscript. I'm sorry I couldn't get back to add even more intials later, as I remembered even more friends who've beaten cancer.

The Tour of Hope was ridden by 26 adults. Nine of them were cancer survivors (of those nine, one of them had had an above-the-knee amputation due to bone cancer. He gave the Riders their unofficial slogan: Twenty-six Riders and fifty-one of the best legs you've ever seen.). These are some of the Riders.

From left to right: Lance Armstrong, Dr. Richard Carmona (the Surgeon General of the United States), Dr. Andrew von Eschenbach (the Director of the National Cancer Institute).

Lance Armstrong, cancer survivor.

Lance Armstrong Foundation
National Cancer Institute
American Cancer Society
The Tour of Hope
H.L.N.

New Blog Showcase

My votes this week:
Beth, and
Left Coast Conservative.

Dang.

The Capitals lost to the Stars last night, 4-2. In the spirit of the Munuvian hockey bets, the Stars logo will replace my Capitals dome until later tonight, when I either put up my Capital dome, or the musical note of Heather's beloved St. Louis Blues.

The Stars are the one team Olie hasn't been able to beat--it must be because his original pads and glove/blocker combo (both his old red-white-blue pads and his first black-and-gold ones) formed a star when they were stacked.

That's *my* theory, anyway.

The lack of experienced defensemen, a lack of production from their big guns (Jagr and Bondra), and a weak power play doomed the Caps. I also feel Olie just played poorly.

There's still hope. The fourth line played well; Matt Pettinger had two-thirds of a Gordie Howe hat trick: a goal and five for fighting. All he was missing was the assist. Robert Lang had the second goal; Jason Arnott had a goal and an assist for Dallas.

But all that's beside the point. Ted has his Sharks logo up; I'm hoping Heather will put up her Blue's logo. I'm also hopeful for Helen, but since she's travelling, I realize it may take some time.

Big things going on in our household today; the gf is doing a charity walk with her sister in the cold, cold morning (about 40 F); I will be heading downtown a bit later to see the Tour of Hope come in and to take pictures of Lance Armstrong.

Speaking of celebrities, I'm 99% sure I saw Ed Bradley having dinner at Legal Seafoods last Saturday. Thing is, is that I thought he was an old cycling buddy at first. Heh.

The GF better get outta my way.

I'm PMS'ing. Seriously.

Earlier today at work, I had a craving for a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Just one of those stupid things that came over me, so I thought I'd be cute and send an e-mail to the gf saying I want a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. I didn't need the calories, so I just left it at that. I was being goofy, you know?

Then I got The Call.

It was a service call: an attorney needed a network cable in a conference room NOW. Normally, they book the rooms weeks in advance, but forget to ask for other services. We don't keep network cables in the conference rooms (reasonably so, IMO) because they're less-than-tidy, and you can't have a less-than-tidy conference room. If they had let me know in advance, I'd have had time to get a cable in there, check out the connection as a just-in-case, and they'd have waltzed in, done what they needed to do, and waltzed out.

Not today. I get there, and the telecon is in progress. Everyone is whispering; the two Senior Partners in there glare at me as I bring in the cable. The Associate grabs the cable and starts to plug it into a phone jack. I point at the network jack (they're orange) and she looks at me as if I had a second head. I point more emphatically, then whisper I'll be right outside--you may have to reboot before you get a connection and I beat feet to just outside the closed door.

A few moments later, Mr. Murphy (he of The Law) makes his presence known: The door cracks open, the associate leans out and whispers that she doesn't have a connection.

To shorten this up, I checked the wire closet (everything was patched thru), went downstairs to get another cable...I ended up getting a twenty-foot cable reaching around to the side opposite from where the associate was. It took me about twenty-five minutes to get the attorneys in a position where they could do their job. I've seen what these guys bill per hour; two associates & two partners and those twenty-five minutes probably cost the client close to $1k.

I was not in a good mood. Fortunately, the candy machine was one floor down. Reese's!

I got back to my desk, and I was in an extremely foul mood. I had an email from the gf: You PMS'ing? she asked, in reply to my little tongue-in-cheek joke about wanting some Reese's.

I am *now*.

I answered, then continued:

I decided to wait--I don't need the calories. Then I got a support thing: Telecon going on, need a network cable now. Rooms are scheduled days in advance, but they never remember it takes time to set things up...

Of course, the network connection is fucked up. After I get it straightened out,
I decide, fuck calories, I'll get my Reese's.

Go to the candy machine, and Reese's are E-10. So I drop my 60 cents, hit
E-1-0...but the thing started dispensing at 1, and out dropped Twizzlers.

Fuck. Turns out there's a '10' button, against everything else where when you
need to punch a '1' and a '0' you either have the '10' button up top (elevators)
or it waits until you hit the '1' then the '0'.

I ate the fucking Twizzlers anyway, but now I'm PMS'ing.

When I got home (late, but that's another story involving a Senior Partner), the gf had Reese's waiting for me.

Hockey, rats, and my sweetie--not necessarily in that order

Three of the more important things in my life, besides eating, breathing, and beer.

Anyhoo, blog Goddaughter Heather recognized Fat Rat Calle as being named for Calle Johansson, former defenseman for the Washington Capitals and current European scout for same.

Good catch, Heather! All of my rats are named for (present or former) Caps, and I posted about them, at the request of fellow Munuvian Jennifer, at my old TypePad blog. Feel free to check it out here.

Looking at the Caps schedule, I see my beloved Caps have upcoming games against Fellow Munuvian Helen's fav team, the Dallas Stars, tonight, and tomorrow they go up against Goddaughter Heather's St. Louis Blues tomorrow.

It's also well known in Munuvia that Ted's favorite team is the San Jose Sharks.

We need a way to gamble on these games. It may be a little late for Helen and Heather to set up, but I propose:

All Munuvian hockey fans post their favorite team's logo on their blog, where it will stay throughout hockey season.

When two Munu teams play, the loser must post the winner's logo on their blog, in place of their own teams logo, for not less then 18 hours. It should be posted as soon as is practical after the game is over. After 24 hours, it may be removed.

If you're in, signify by putting your teams logo on your blog. I shall do so during lunch.

(And, recognizing Helen is travelling, if Washington loses to Dallas tonight, I'll post the Stars logo; however, Helen is not obligated to post the Caps logo should Dallas lose, unless she can.)

The Superior Pet

My Munuvian Goddaughter Heather wrote an absolutely hilarious essay about the effort involved in taking her cat, John Galt, to the vet. Being a former cat person, I sympathize 100%.

Now that I'm a rat person, I have to say getting a rat ready for the vet is infinitely easier, and because of that simple fact, I now proclaim Rats Are The Superior Pet.

Check it out: Victor's routine for getting a rat ready to go to the vet:

1. Prepare travel cage with newspaper (or a spare rat towel--yes, the rats get their own towels), a small bowl of food, and a water bottle (during travel, the water bottle is attached to the cage upside-down, to prevent leakage. At the vet, it's turned rightside-up, so the rat can continue to ignore it).

2. Rats are nocturnal, so during the day they sleep (duh). The hardest part of this step is getting an 800+ gram sleepy rat out of the big cage, because, like kids, they don't like waking up early, either. Snuggle with rat briefly.

3. Here's the hardest part of all: Getting the rat into the carrier. Sometimes they spread-eagle against the door, but usually you kind of cup the entire rat in your hand, and slide the rat in. This doesn't work for monster fat rat Calle, tho--no way are you cupping that big fat fuzzy bag of lard in two hands.

4. Cover carrier with a second towel, carry out to car.

5. Drive to the vet while listening to the rat scurry about the cage.

6. Answer ignorant questions at the vet: Is that a hamster? What do you mean it's a rat? Does it bite? What diseases have you gotten from it?

(Actually, neither my gf nor I have faced those questions, but other rat people have. One girl tells people they're rare Egyptian long-tailed voles.)

7. Walk into exam room, listen to doctor joke about, "So how've you been? It's been a whole two weeks since I've seen you!" Ha, ha. (Sadly, rats live nasty, brutish, short lives, and are frequently sick. You can read more about the trials and tribulations (as well as the joy) of rats as pets at the Ratablog, run by Your Humble Narrator and His Esteemed GF.)

8. Also listen to doctor say your rat is fat.

9. Rat jumps into carrier of his own free will. They don't like the vet, either.

10. Help doctor pick up fear poops stool samples. Lots of stool samples.

11. Get prescription for Baytril.

12. Cut loose with your own stool sample when you get the bill. Exotics vets tend to be expensive.

13. Drive home.

14. Give rat a yogie, which will add at least three grams to his mass.

15. Watch rat fall asleep in big cage.

See? So much easier than dealing with cats, except for the bill part.

More on helmets

Maybe I should do this as an update, but I left out one important point in this post:

All my discussion of any culpability on the part of Mrs. Henry, and discussion of Ms. Stede's lack of attention--

--becomes NULL AND VOID once it's discovered Ms. Stede was not wearing her helmet.

I was out driving as the sun was going down today, and yeah, I had some glare to deal with, but as I looked to make the turn I noticed I would have been able to see any cyclist, pedestrian, emergency vehicle...anything either in front of me (into the glare) or to the side of me, in the path of my SUV.

Any cyclist should have been awary my truck was near them, and I hope they wouldn't just dart out into its path (though I realize the Strongest Force On Earth Is Human Stupidity).

Ms. Stede, after having been struck by Mrs. Henry's car, might have had a better chance of surviving had she been wearing a helmet.

Period.

Twerps, again.

Got a message for this guy:

James is really freakin' torked at you, and Jennifer hates you, for forever and ever.

Second time I had to go thru this. See, the Orioles are my favorite AL team, and the Cubs are my favorite NL team (after they hired Leo Gomez for a season, when the O's let him go). Y'all remember Jeffrey Maier? Guy interfered with Tony Tarasco during the 1996 ALCS playoffs? That little twerp?

I still hate him. For awhile, I was cutting Yankee logos out of newspapers and putting them in the urinals at Hooter's. Think I'll start doing that again...

Bikes on Target.

Continuing a discussion started by my esteemed sweetie, former Miss America Heather French Henry struck and killed a bicyclist with her car.

A few things about this situation rub me raw.

Heather French Henry. . .told police the sun was in her eyes as she was turning at an intersection. . .

That's actually not too unreasonable, but I wonder how fast she was moving, or if she stopped immediately after feeling a bump as she struck the cyclist. I can't see her going faster then 10 mph as she made a turn. Was she moving faster? Did she drag the cyclist?

(I confess the snark in me also wants to know if she was on her cell phone at the time.)

. . .struck the woman, who was crossing outside the crosswalk. .

This means she was riding in the road, which (unless Kentucky law is completely out of step with time--OK, I'm in a snarky mood) is within her rights as a cyclist and is not a contributing factor in this tragedy.

. . .Police spokeswoman Alicia Smiley said she did not expect charges to be filed. . .

Obviously, that's up to the District Attorney to decide, but c'mon! It's my opinion Mrs. Henry wasn't giving 100% of her attention (110%, actually, if driving conditions were not optimal, as Mrs. Henry asserts) to what was going on around her. Isn't that illegal? Reckless driving, or something similar? I mean, a person died!

But enough of picking on Mrs. Henry. Let's look at a few other things.

Something not specifically stated in the report, but something experienced cyclists should know: When you're on the road, you have to look out for yourself.

Several year ago, I was heavily involved with the AIDS Rides. When I was involved in the AIDS Rides, I led and swept training rides (I especially enjoyed working with the less-experienced Riders, but that's beside the point). We were required to give a safety speech before each ride, and part of it stated (pulling it from memory): When you're on the road, you're responsible for yourself. If you see a car, you can't expect it to stop just because you have the right-of-way. If you expect the car to stop, you're putting your life in someone else's hands, and that's not a smart move.

Or something like that. Basically, just as I feel Mrs. Henry wasn't giving 100% of her attention to the road, I feel a cyclist must give 200% of his attention to what's going on around him (or her). Of course, maybe she was. But what really makes me nutsnutsnuts:

The victim, Karola Stede, 44, later died. . .She was not wearing a helmet, police said.

(Gentle reader, you may wish to take a step back.)

WEAR A HELMET, YOU STUPID COW! JUMPIN' JESUS CHRIST ON A POGO STICK, WEAR A FUCKING HELMET!

You can get a perfectly workable helmet for $30--cheaper on sale. It's a $30 life insurance policy!

I'm a friendly cyclist. If I'm passing someone, I give a bell and a warning; I help out disabled cyclist--IF you're wearing a helmet. If you're not, you're safer not being on your bike, and the walk back to your car won't kill you.

I'm pretty much a helmet Nazi. Man oh man, am I a helmet Nazi. One time, on the AIDS Rides, I had one guy show up for a training ride without his helmet. He had signed my waiver (which stated you understood you were required to wear a helmet), and was in the parking lot, popping wheelies on his Cannondale, helmetless. I told him to put his helmet on.

"I don't have one," he said. I told him he couldn't ride. "But I signed your waiver!" he exclaimed, as if that exonerated him.

Hmmm.

I let it slide, for the time being. Later, after everyone had signed the waiver and the group was getting antsy to go, I called everyone around. "Normally, I'd be giving you the safety speech right now," I started, "but this is going to be a bit different. If you're on the listserve (DC AIDS Ride discussion list), you know me as the Safety Queen. I've earned that title.

"Today, someone has shown up without a helmet. I told him he wasn't allowed to ride with us if he didn't have a helmet, but he's going to ride along anyway. Not only is that incredibly stupid on his part, it leaves me, under Maryland law, as the responsible party if something should happen to him--heck, if anything happens to any of you I'm responsible for it!

"So, because this guy insists on coming all this way to try to ruin my ride, I'm gonna let you know he succeeded. I'm cancelling the ride. Go home."

Suddenly, a girl spoke up. "We'll go home!" and she grabbed Mr. Helmetless and dragged him to a car with Virginia tags (we were in Maryland), then came back to me, asking for a few private moments.

"I apologize. I'm really sorry. I told him he needed a helmet; he said he doesn't need one. We're leaving--and we drove 45 miles to get here." I told her he was welcome to car sweep if she wanted to ride; she said no, he really needed to learn a lesson. I almost felt sorry for him.

So why don't people where helmets?

They're heavy. So? Life's tough, sweetheart. And they're not heavy.

They're uncomfortable combined with I look like a dork! Skull fractures are less comfortable, and a flat head combined with uncontrollable drooling & a blank stare is really less than fashionable.

My head gets hot. Actually, according to a Bicycling magazine article I'm pulling from memory, a light-colored helmet reflects heat away, and results in a cooler head, while dark helmets do absorb heat. This was a scientific study that was quoted--they used thermometers and everything.

They're expensive. Well, the expensive ones are, and the cheap ones aren't. Either way, they're cheaper then hospital stays, or a lifetime of living life as a vegetable.

I'm not a fast rider combined with I don't go fast and I'm only riding around the neighborhood combined with I'm only going a few miles. These excuses really make me laugh. Makes me wish I could do a trackstand so I can sit there on my bike, going nowhere, and ask Mr. I-don't-need-a-helmet, "How fast am I going?"

"Uh, you're not going anywhere," he'll answer.

"And what's my speed? Fast? Slow?"

"Uh, you're not going anywhere, so you're...uh...you're stopped!"

"Zero miles an hour, right? That's pretty damn slow, right?" I'll ask. I expect his answer to be either dead silence or, "Uhhh..." then I'll ask him, "Can you do this? Can you do this for five hours? If you can, you can ride with me without a helmet."

You see, there are numbers involved in those last two arguments. One of them says low numbers (speed or distance) are safe--you don't need a helmet if you'r going slow, or not too far.

Bullshit. Those numbers are variable, but they shouldn't even be in the equation. The only number that matters is the distance of your head to the ground.

That number is a constant. That number doesn't change, and it doesn't matter if you're motionless on your bike doing a trackstand, or screaming down a hill at over fifty mph, fifty miles from your house.

You've got a brain. You shouldn't be afraid to use it--or protect it.

Lack of bloggage.

Guess I wasn't gone long enough to make people think I had pulled a Collins. Nope, just busy and not really in a blogging mood.

So, who was the mystery Munuvian who showed up in my dream? Before I tell you, I just want to make one thing clear: As I said, it was not what you think. The dream wasn't about the Munuvian; the Munuvian was just another dreamperson; one of those you need to fill out the cast when youy dream. If my dream had been a movie, the Munuvian might well have been an uncredited extra.

I fly kites--sometimes. I haven't really had time to do so this year; even though I'm off today, I almost certainly won't fly something. It's waaay too windy, and I've got tons of stuff to do (so I'm blogging instead). Anyhoo, this dream was about things in the sky--there was one scene where the entire sky in front of me was filled with kites, and the sky behind me was filled with rockets.

So Jennifer was right: it was ol' Rocket Jones hisself, Ted, who showed up in my dream. Now you can all sleep at night.

Yes, I told my gf. She thought it was weird.

Paooki attack!

I had to de-spider the kitchen today. Twice.

This is the second paook. I think she's cute.

Bleahhh.

Why, in the name of all that is holy, WHY?

Just wonderin', is all.

Just some real fast stuf...

My gf's chili recipe kicks the ass of my beer-can chicken recipe. I'm jealous.

Susie, my camera is a Canon PowerShot S50, it's awesome, and I'm carrying it with me wherever I go. My gf is jealous. The screen, tho, is only 1.5 X 1-inch--I made a boo-boo in my last post.

Serenity found a loving home for her rats! Yay!

A Munuvian showed up in my dreams the other night. It's not what you think.

Finally, hockey season starts tonight!

Let's go Caps!

At long last...

My quick-and-dirty photoblog of the Washington Circle Fire has been posted on my TypePad site.

Sorry, Susie. The pictures aren't quite what you'd expect, but it's hard to tell what's really going on thru a zoom lens and a 2 X 1.5 inch LCD screen.

So, where are the pics?

My apologies to Suzie and Jennifer. I didn't post my fireman pix last night because I wanted to spend the evening with my gf and with our rats.

Sorry, but sometimes I let life interfere with blogging. It's my fatal flaw.

I'm not a journalist. I just play one on the internet.

A car fire ignited gas leaking from a gas main on Washington Circle in northwest Washington at 10:30 AM today. Washington Circle is just a few blocks from my office, so I took my digital camera out during lunch and got lots of pictures of firemen standing around.

Guess I should start bringing a portable Compact Flash card reader to work with me, also. I'll post some pictures after I get home tonight.

Bidding war--update

We've a new Munuvian! Munuvia won the bidding war for H of Everyday Stranger--so head on over to her new digs and give H the Traditional Munuvian Welcome!

Why I Hate Baltimore

Well, not exactly hate, mind you. Really strong distaste for, perhaps?

It's a DC vs. Baltimore thing. Habs vs. Leafs, Yanks vs. BoSox, Washington vs. Dallas, tastes great vs. less filling, Stove Top Stuffing vs. potatos...and DC vs. Baltimore. These are the Great Rivalries of Our Time.

Anyway, stay out of your local Baltimore Popeye's, OK?

Poor mousie.

Best. Commercial. Ever. (Almost.)

I'm watching the Redskins lose to a healthy team--The 756 penalty yards aren't helping 'em, neither--and the Second Best Commercial Ever just came on.

Well, maybe not second best. But it's definitely top five. It's for Verizon, and it has a monkey holding a banana in his ear, like a phone. "Ee-oo-oo-oo?...A!" he says, then moves to another spot. "Ee-oo-oo-oo?...A!" and he moves on...

Get it? GET IT? He's saying, "Can you hear me?...Good!"

I love monkeys in commercials.

The Best Commercial Of All Time is Apple's 1984. I still remember when I first saw it during the Super Bowl--I couldn't wait to see it again, but that was the only time it was ever aired, at least until "TV's Greatest Commercials" specials started showing on TV popped up.

(Hey, if you record one of those shows, should you risk fast-forwarding thru the commercials? Just wondering.)

Wendy's had some pretty good ones; the best was "Russian Fashion Show." Sadly, it was made and aired just as Political Correctness^TM started rearing its ugly head and the commercial was yanked. People were afraid the Soviets would be offended.

There's one I like a lot, but I've only seen it twice. It's funny, but it can't be that good a commercial because I don't remember what it was advertiseing. it has a scene where a nice little family unit is out at a nice restaurant--Mom, Dad, 3-year old kid. A cocktail waitress in a French-maid outfit walks by and the kid screams out, "Daddy, that lady is wearing the dress you bought mommy!"

Heh.

Bidding war!

I found this blogger via fellow Munuvian Don and my first thought was: Don was right--this girl is just too damn good.

My second thought was, "We must get her for Munuvia!"

I found out she's already been asked to emigrate from the BlogSpot Soviet Soicalist Republic to Munuvia, but other friends are also trying to get her to emigrate to their little corner of the blogosphere...somewhere where the cows and the antelope don't play, where frequent is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are cloudy all day.

It's a bidding war! My pitch to her emphasized that Munuvia could use another touch of class. Flattery, you see. But I needed to see what we were up against.

Turns out they could use a touch of class, themselves.

Troll Infestation, part two.

Earlier in the week, I mentioned a troll infestation at one of my rat discussion groups. Someone posted a link to an offensive video (and it would probably be offensive to pretty much anybody, but it was especially offensive to rat people), then other trolls started leaving droppings on the board.

It happened last Saturday, on the weekend , and the moderators choose weekends to have a life. With no moderators around, I took it on myself to try to limit views of that video. We have lots of kids on our forum, and they don't need to see that kind of shit. But...we started getting more troll droppings.

Eventually a mod showed up and deleted the offensive posts and threads. I realized we only had one chance to track the trolls down and put a stop to this, and we had to do it soon.

You see, I was an adolescent boy once. I had a strong feeling about what was going on (later turned out I was pretty much right). I also knew that if some action--some serious action--weren't taken PDQ, we'd have scores of trolls hitting the forum. One moderator wouldn't be able to handle it by herself (the admin was taking most of the weekend off to have a life).

I asked the mod, via the thread that was getting hit by trolls the most, to forward the IP's of the trolls to me, because I hoped that would make the kids back off: We get the IP's and they realize they're busted. (To be honest, no laws had really been broken--but kids frequently don't realize that.)

The mod posted the IP's in the troll warning thread, which I didn't expect her to do, but it worked out to our advantage. Brilliant stroke of luck, that.

Soon after the IP's were posted, someone posted this, under the username of one of the trolls:

I am (troll 1) and (troll 2) Father. I need our IP address taken down immediatly. I am extremly sorry for any sorrow or pain my sons have caused. I dont think that posting the IP was appropriate never the less. Please note that (troll 1) and (troll 2) only replied, and didn't mean to do anything wrong. They are 12 year old twins, with unsupervised acsess to the net. I am changing this now. Sorry again,
Jim (lastname).

I wondered if it was actually the troll father, but after he got flamed by some of our membership, he posted:

Yes, there was more than two of them. It was advertised on a Paintball forum, which both my sons belong to. I guess that theres no way to "prove" that I am telling the truth, but all that I ask is that I dont get hacked. I have business files on this computer, and that would pose a hazard for my business. Thanks, Jim (lastname)

and this:

They where sitting in the computer room laughing their heads off, so I looked in their history and found this site, then found their handels on the swimming rat thread. As I said before, they are being diciplined, and it wont happen again.

Sounded plausible, except for the misspellings. But if we really had a nervous businessman, afraid his computer might get hacked...I asked the IP's be taken down, and they were, but not before they were written down. Why, you may ask, did I want with their IP's?

Revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

You see, all ISP's have an Acceptable Use Policy (AUP) and all AUP's have something along the lines of this:

You are prohibited to use your (ISP) account in conducting activities that include, but are not limited to:
*Transmitting unsolicited messages which, in the sole judgement of your (ISP) Service provider, causes significant disruption or elicits complaints from other Internet users.
*Harassing users or groups in any way.
*Impersonating users from the (ISP) Service or any other Internet service providers in any way.

(That's taken from the AUP we tracked back via one of the IP's, by the way. Your ISP probably has something similar. Forewarned is forearmed and all that.)

I really only wanted the IP from the guy who posted the original link. If I got the others, great, but I didn't want them as badly as I wanted the original guy (Not that I'd let them off the hook--can't get even with one without getting even with the others. It's not fair, ya know?).

Sadly, we didn't have his IP--it disappeared when the mod deleted the messages. So I rolled up my sleeves: It was time for some serious detective work.

Like a lot of good detective work, though, I got a real lucky break. Remember how the mod posted the IP's on the warning thread, and a kid panicked and started acting like his father? If we had been hit by professional trolls and not a bunch of kids, the trolls wouldn't have mentioned they heard about this on a paintball forum, nor would they have registered on our board with the same names they use on the paintball forum. Finally, the original troll used the word paintball in his user name on the rat list. That made me think it really did start at a paintball forum.

I think I would've found them eventually, but all that info made it go a lot faster. Stupid amateurs--remind me not to rob a bank with them in the future!

The ISP's were all Canadian. The information had been posted on a paintball forum. I knew the name and URL of our rat forum and I suspected they were mentioned on the paintball forum (I was right). At the time, I didn't know the kids had registered on our board with the same username they used on the paintball forum, but I did know I was dealing with kids, and kids tend not to be original sometimes.

With Google, I found the paintball forum in less than an hour, and it was all there. The original discussion of the video. The post where someone posted, "Dude, you should go on a forum that is all into mice and hamsters and stuff like that, and post that video..." The bragging and links to posts on our forum, and the frustration when they discovered the threads had been deleted.

Even better was this:

BTW, they also called us "trolls" and have your IP as well as (troll 2), but it's all good they wouldn't do anything stupid.

...Which got this response:

Oh shit... I need my IP off there QUICK!

It was actually pretty enjoyable reading how those kids went from, "I'm da MAN!" to pooping in their pants when they discovered we had their IP's. Heh.

Thank God for FILE/SAVE AS. I still have my screen caps of their threads.

By the time I found the paintball forum, the thread had been locked by a moderator, who left the kids with this thought:

anywho. im (not) gonna delete this post.. why? you're gonna get what you deserve...

Lord, ain't it the truth?

***

In the meantime, the rat forum moderators recommended to the rat admin I be made a moderator.

So I joined the paintball forum. I had played paintball, rather frequently, back in the 80's, back when it was called The Survival Game and all we had were Nelspot paint markers and shop goggles. I figure that qualifies me to register. Besides, I had to get a note to the admin somehow--only this note would now be moderator-to-moderator...professional courtesy and all that...

The admins *loved* the note I sent them. I won't reprint my note here, but his reaction to it was priceless:

Well, here is a message i receive from the staff of (rat forum).

(Admin 1): My name is Victor, and I'm a co-moderator on the (rat forum) rat list.
[DELETEd stuff here--but I asked him for the IP's of several of his users.]
Any help you can give us would be appreciated. I am also sending this message to (Admin2).
--Victor

Now, i'm not going to give them the IPs, although i should. This will be handled here, and if anyone else from here starts causing trouble with other sites respresenting this site..... oh man, will you regret it.

You think we were strict before... now you watch.

Thanks for helping represent the (paintball forum) is such a great way.

That's what he told his users. What he told me was quite different, because I think he knew what a favor I was doing for him.

When all of that bragging was going back and forth on the original thread, all of those words became property of the paintball forum, and any actions became the responsibility of the forum. Think of the responsibility a company has for the actions of its employee's and you'll see what I mean.

Remember the user AUP's I referred to earlier? The forum has AUP's they have to abide by, too...and allowing that kind of stuff to go on left the paintball forum responsible to their ISP. One note and that forum would come crashing down so fast they'd have felt it in Australia.

In my note, I told them I know the moderators and forum were not responsible for the harrasment. What I think they read, and what I wanted them to read was Give me the IP's and your ISP won't hear a word from me.

So he told his forum members he wouldn't give them the IP's, and I'll respect that.

There's no need to really talk about what was in the private note he sent to me. I can make this comment, though: Professional courtesy is a wonderful thing.

Notes went out to a couple of Canadian ISP's the next morning.

Heh.

Blogging for Boobies

If y'all read my September 11 post, you know I take breast cancer very seriously. And because I'm a guy, I also take boobies very seriously. It's my nature.

Anyway, I had planned to participate in the Blogger Boobiethon but I forgot about it, so I'll make a contribution somewhere. In the meantime, here are pictures of boobies.

Everybody wants more boobies and I'm too happy to oblige.

"Free" blogs?

I'm sittin' around, scraping the gunk a certain Really Big Computer Manufacturer puts on their CPU heatsinks, when a thought came to me. I did some checking over at The Simian Alliance Headquarters to confirm my thoughts. . .and I'm right.

The so-called "Alliance of Free Blogs" has more rules then...anything I can think of. And they're brutal if you don't follow 'em:

So, as Alliance Hostess, Blogroller and Official Link Madam, I hearby give notice to all Alliance members that those not in compliance with at least two of the Official Orders by Sunday September 7th, 2003 will be ceremoniously DE-LINKED and all benefits accured from Alliance membership will be revoked!

Does anyone else see the irony? You can join our "Alliance of Free Blogs" if you agree to stop being...free.

Reminds me of all those Iron Curtain countries that all had "Democracy" in their names. Renounce The Simian Alliance! Join the Axis of Naughty! Let one-thousand puppies blend!

One-hundred posts.

Wow, is it one-hundred posts already? I swear, Publius & Co. doesn't look a post over forty-two.

I was going to post something dumb yesterday, when I noticed I had 99 total posts, and I decided I shouldn't waste number 100 on something lame, even if no one would know it was my 100th post but me. Now, if you read my last post you'd know I've been deficient in the inspiration department lately, so I asked my fellow Munuvians for help, and here are the three suggestions I got.

From Lee Ann: Hmm, this might be more work than it's worth, but what if you took the first word from the title of every post and tried to make a post using each, linking each word back to the post? Or if not the first word, the main word. In order, of course.
Did that make any sense or has the medication kicked in too soon?
If all else fails you can post more rat pictures, because cuteness always works.

She's right about that being a lot like work. She's also right about the medication kicking in too soon. And she's also also right that cute rat pictures always work, but I want Post Number 100 to be special, you know? Thank you, Lee Ann, but for your cute rat picture fix you'll have to check out the Ratablog. I'll get some more up later, but not just yet.

From Jennifer: 50-100 things about you or your rats?

Apparently she's forgotten I did my "Fifty Things About Me" post before. Not much has changed. Fifty things about my rats, now...hmmm...

50. My rats are fat.
49. Nope, ain't got the patience for this, either.

Jennifer, me and the gf will do a "What do you know...about rats?" for you sometime in the future, but not just yet.

From new Munuvian Heather: I think you could whip up a nice celebration of life and blogging, affirming your decision to live life with a computer attached to your hip.
What do you think?
hln

Before I comment on Heather's suggestion, I just want to point out that all of these responses are from total babes. No guys made a suggestion, which tells me guys probably don't give a flying whatever, which is true for the most part. That's not a criticism, just an observation.

Heather's suggestion is kinda similar to what I had decided on sometime during the second intermission of last nights Caps game, so if I were handing out a prize, Heather would get it, only I'm not gonna talk too much about blogging and life with a computer strapped to my hip.

I am, however, gonna stick my 100th post in the extended entry.

Back in the early 90's, I had only been watching hockey for a year or two. Had just discovered it; the offside rule was *still* giving me a bit of trouble, plus/minus was a mystery. I actually had two favorite teams: The Caps, of course, and the Bruins. Long story behind that, but you should know I stopped liking the Bruins during the Caps-B's playoff series back in '98.

Anyway, I'm at work (under contract to a customer, just like now), roaming the halls, when something on a computer monitor caught my eye: The old Caps logo. I was still in motion and had to backtrack to make sure I saw it, but it was gone...I was still looking at the monitor when someone said to me, "Can I help you?"

I just blubbered something along the lines of, "I was just looking at your screen saver; did it have a Caps logo on it?" except it came out more like, "I was just looking at your Caps monitor sputter sputter mumble mumble I've forgotten the English language, sorry." I was pretty embarrassed I had gotten caught in someone else's office, you see.

Anyway, me and this girl started talking--turns out she had been a Caps fan since year one, her parents had season tickets right behind the Caps bench. We became friends; she'd get me her parents tickets some times; other times I'd ask her for a recap of the game the night before.

I did my first AIDS Ride back in '96 or '97 (that old age thing again) and I asked her (along with a bunch of friends) to help out with closing ceremonies. She did, then decided she wanted to Ride it next year. We spent a lot of time riding bikes together.

OK, we spent more time together, went to hockey games together, I moved in, we got some rats and some guinea pigs, blah blah blah.

I was wondering if I'd be able to find the words to not bore y'all to death and make this a real poetry-type thing, but I can't. I'm not a poet; I'm a guy, so I'll just finish right about here: I love my sweetie. The end.

Now, everyone read this then go look at the picture of my one and only true love with another man.

Shocking Lack Of Inspiration Leads annika Victor To Post A List Of Her Favorite Candies Steal An Idea

The gf called me up about forty minutes ago. "You haven't posted anything!"

Haven't had anything to post about. So I looked at my site (I'm my favorite reader--honest!) and I noticed a new comment...annika wished me a happy birthday.

Awww. Thanks, annika! Have I mentioned Ted is "more experienced" than I am lately?

Ya see, I've been depressed lately. I used to blog a lot, then I convinced my gf to start blogging, so she does, and she puts out stuff like this and this and I think, "I can't write!"

Anyway.

I stole annika's idea, so I better do something with it. So: Victor's Top 5 Favorite Joe Don Baker Movies:

1. Mitchell The ultimate Joe Don Baker movie--if you watch the MST3K version. The real one is too painful, especially the scene where you almost see Joe Don's butt.

2. Walking Tall The movie that made Joe Don a household name...for about twenty minutes.

3. Citizen Cohn Joe Don as Senator Joseph McCarthy. When he's drunk (McCarthy, that is), he's great (Joe Don, that is).

4. The Pack Joe Don! Dogs! Idiot businessmen! What else would you want in a movie? Besides good writing and a believable plot, I mean.

5. The Natural Joe Don! Baseball! Good writing! An almost believable plot! What else would you want in a movie? Besides boobage, I mean.

And now you know my Dirty Little Secret: I'm a huge Joe Don Baker fan. I may joke about him a lot, but I also paid $13 (plus shipping) on eBay for a napkin that might have his autograph on it.

Seriously. Check out Citizen Cohn--it's a good movie in and of itself, and Joe Don is the best thing in it.