Monthly Archives: March 2004


So the radio news this morning told me that “a new study shows that abstinence in teenagers results in 40% fewer pregnancies”. Hurm. Hope no one paid for that study.

The “what was I thinking” smoothie

-six ice cubes
-one cup buttermilk
-half a cup of applesauce
-one banana
-one tomato
-two strawberry popsicles scraped off the stick
-two tablespoons brown sugar (takes edge of the tomato tartness)

Blend till smooth. Makes two sixteen ounce smoothies that are slightly tart and probably pretty good for you. (:

Service with a smile

On the drive to work this morning I caught a radio news snippet saying that a group of death row inmates are protesting some “inhumane treatment” they perceive to be perpetrated on them. They are protesting by going on a hunger strike.

That’s what I call service. Now we don’t even have to kill them, they die voluntarily, eh? Smooth.

Spam’s aftertaste (step right up)

Hi everyone out there in blogland. At least one person out there seems to think that I run this blog so that they have a free place to advertise their own putrid little sites. Well, here’s news for that person: it isn’t free.

Nope, from this point (March 22, 2004, 3:36pm EST) forward, I’ll be exacting a fee of one dollar per impression per link for each link posted on this site that I deem to be spam. An impression will be defined as a line in my web server logs showing that a page containing one or more spam links was accessed. Fees will be charged whether the entity accessing the page is human or robot.

Also, if I choose to delete a particular piece of blog spam, the deletion fee will be $15 per piece.

Billing will occur monthly. Bills not paid by the first of the month following the time when access occurs will be considered late. Bills that are late more than 30 days may be turned over to a collection agency for satisfaction. If you do not agree to these terms, then do not post your spam (remember, I define what is spam) links on my website.

Thank-you and good-bye. (by the way, if you are just a normal blog reader, don’t think twice about posting a URL. This is only here to allow me to bill those who want to exploit my web site)

bathroom quandary

I was using a urinal at the airport in Detroit (did I mention that I spent a week in Dallas at the end of February?) and noticed something exceedingly strange. It was the sort of urinal that isn’t just against the wall, it has a sort of bowl deal that sticks out. Anyway, there were streaks in the urinal from solid material being deposited in the bowl….

Now it’s that someone was having a practical joke at the airport, but that seems unlikely, since it’s difficult to predict the streaking action that a particular bowel relief may or may not produce. My best guess is that some poor foreigner misunderstood the intended use of the urinal. Poor guy. Still makes me laugh to think about though.

Freakish Dreams

In the first part of the dream I had last night, I was living in the seventh floor of a hotel. It was a bit on the dark side, and a bit gothic in the classical sense. You could see all the way down the center of the building to the main floor. Several of the floors had seating along one wall where the seats were mounted horizontally. I think people were watching movies in those. Anyway, I was able to just sort of jump of my own floor and use those chairs, various railings and statues and whatnot to arrive at the first floor in only a couple seconds. It was fun, actually.

On the first floor of the hotel was a diner. I was going to tell the woman who ran the diner about my awesome ability, so I raised my hand at her and said hello. She thought I wanted a table though, and since they were all taken, she suggested that I cash out a man who was sitting near where I was standing. This wasn’t optimal, since I didn’t want his table. I only wanted to brag. Not only that, but he wasn’t done eating anyway. She again suggested that we should both go to the cash register, so we agreed.

At that point, I walked out of the diner. There was a mall ajoining the diner/hotel, so I walked through that. I met Melissa in the mall, and we walked out a back exit and got in a bus. The bus was full when we got in, but gradually emptied out. Once it was down to just Melissa and I and a few other people, the bus suddenly lurched backwards and rolled into a dark alley. Then some thugs (very large men) appeared at the bus entrances. Not just thugs mind you, rock and roll thugs. Now in retrospect I have no idea what a rock and roll thug is, but that’s what these were and that made perfect sense in the dream. They hijacked the bus and I waited for an opportunity to hurt one of the hijackers, even though I knew they were much stronger than I. Instead, Melissa and I somehow escaped the bus back into the mall. A chase ensued at that point with the rock and roll thugs hunting down Melissa and I through the mall.

We were about halfway through the mall when Melissa’s Dad and brother showed up. We quickly told us that rock and roll thugs were chasing us. They knew immediately what to do and ran off looking for the thugs while Melissa and I continued to run away. When we got to the entrance to the mall, a friend of Melissa’s family, Tracy Clinton, was just walking in. She was thinner than in real life, but it was her. Amazingly, she was the “Queen of Rock and Roll”. We quickly related our troubles to her, and she promised to deal with hit. She being the queen, we knew we wouldn’t be having any troubles with the rock and roll thugs anymore.

It was night then, and I was walking along outside a huge stone theater, the kind they play broadway plays in. It had searchlights playing patterns outside the front of it. It was shaped a lot like the whitehouse I spose. Anyway, under cover of the night, the Russians and Japanese were using helicopters to fly buildings into the city. I guess they were going to use the airborne buildings to smash up the city. At that point, I ended up dodging a lot of flying buildings and debris.

Then, to get away, I pulled this thing out of my pocket that was a little like a hand-held vacuum cleaner, except it had tank treads on it. When the tank treads came in contact with the ground, they took off, pulling me behind. They pulled me behind them so fast that my body became airborne behind the thing. Eventually, it got going fast enough to lift off, and then it used some sort of ramjet vacuum propulsion to pull me along. It was just starting to grow a sort of amber shell from its from with the purpose of enveloping me for space travel when it malfunctioned. The amber shell started to waver, the device slowed down, and it almost got me smashed by a semi-tractor when it dumped me onto an interstate.

Then I was walking along in the city and came to an orphanage where I worked. It was apparently time for me to work, so I stood outside accepting orphans and also street people for care. A girl in a dress like the kind girls wore in Little House on the Praire brought up her aged uncle on an antique wheelchair. It was the kind that looked like a regular high-backed armchair with wheels attached. She just needed a rest from her constant care of her uncle, so she wanted to leave him with us while she did a few errands. We agreed. We wheeled him inside. Then the uncle died. He may even have been dead before he came, he didn’t say much either way. We had the Uncle sent to the morgue, but we were going to give the girl back the wheelchair since it was obvious that she would want it back. The staff had left the chair in a bit of a mess though, laying on its back and whatnot. There was huge dread in me over what the girl would think of the chair being left in that state (I didn’t seem to care that her uncle had died…) so I spent a long time getting the chair just right.

The orphanage had taken on the same sort of gothic dark/dirty feel that the hotel had seemed to have. Once I finally had the chair in a state that I thought would be acceptable to the little girl, I walked out in the hall. It was a long hall that had four right angle turns in it so that it zig-zagged back to the end of the building where the entrances was. I was almost to the entrance when I heard the little girl enter. She didn’t make any noise at all actually, but I knew she was there. I ran away as silently as I could, because as soon as she entered the building a huge sense of dread and fear took over me. I was hoping that if I got past a few of the corners in the hall, she would not see me. She just kept coming though.

I stopped running and looked at her. She had a bonnet on and her head was leaned down and forward so I could not see her face. She swung her arms and legs stiffly as if she had no joints where her elbows should be, and as though her legs were very robotic (more undead than robotic, in a way). Her dress was very billowy. It was dead and grey and gothic and ghastly all at the same time. I was terrified by her, and she was running directly at me. She was only a few feet away, running full speed at me. I was frozen in place.

At this point, Melissa woke me up. She said that I was calling out for help in my sleep and thrashing around. I’m very glad she woke me up. Comical as this whole thing is to write down for a blog, I was scared stiff by most of it while I was dreaming it. I talked with her about it and we both eventually fell asleep. That was about three in the morning.

When I fell back asleep, I had another dream. I remember it clearly, but I don’t even know where to begin describing it. It wasn’t scary, just surreal. Impossibly surreal.

So those were my dreams last night.

Controversially speaking

I found an interesting link about how to always win an argument. I’ll admit that I’ve used several of the methods mentioned. A trip to a newsgroup on the net will show you each and every method in use.

I just thought it was interesting to see someone having thought through the whole thing so carefully.

Burning Andrew Jackson

So it seems that when you place a new US $20 bill in the microwave, it explodes. Wonderful. The article claims that the explosion is caused by an rfid tag burning.

A quick google doesn’t turn up much info on this one way or the other. I can tell you that there is nothing to suggest that this isn’t the case. Actually, Tim tells me that the slashdot collective is surmising that this is simply a result of Andy Jackson is printed with magnetic ink. Stack up a pile of magnectic ink, inject high energy radio waves and suddenly everything you love is combustible.

Anyway, food for thought.