Dangerous Logic

On The Other Hand, Somebody Could Hold A Store Clerk At Gunpoint From 100 Yards Away...

A Fort Wayne man wanted to open a precision gunsmith business in his home, repairing and upgrading competition rifles to shoot more accurately. Some of his neighbors went into hysterics; unfortunately, they carried the Board of Zoning Appeals away with them:

The Fort Wayne Board of Zoning Appeals shot down a south-side man’s request to operate a firearms business from his home Thursday.

Indiana Avenue resident Brock Bell wanted to work part time as a precision gunsmith, who would make competition rifles shoot more accurately. But the Board of Zoning Appeals decided the business could harm the community and was not in the public interest.

About 15 neighbors who attended the meeting argued there was nothing to stop Bell from expanding the business and selling guns.

The business could have reduced property values and increased crime in the neighborhood, said Melissa Skalicky, president of the West Rudisill Neighborhood Association. [emphasis added]

OK, sure, if Bell wanted to keep an inventory of handguns and shotguns in his house. That's not what the business entails.

People who were looking for guns might have broken into nearby homes if they knew there was a firearms business in the area, she said.

They'd break into... nearby homes... if they knew there was a firearms business in the area. Wow, criminals must be even dumber than I thought - I always figured they'd break into the firearms business to do that. And we all know about how the gang-bangers loves they Anschutz 1413 Super Match 54's. I think The Game wrote a rap about how he all OG when he roll wit hiz five-four. Word ta yo' gunsmizith, homey.

Skalicky said several neighbors planned to sell their homes for below-market price if the firearms business were approved.

"Because," she whispered, "One of them wants to move into the neighborhood."

OK, I made that up. But it's the first thing I thought of when I read that quote.

Bell needed the board’s approval to obtain a federal firearms license that would have allowed him to ship and receive firearms in the mail. Most of his customers would have been from outside the region because competition shooting is a specialized hobby, he said.

Bell said he planned to keep the guns secured in a safe to discourage break-ins. At most, he would have stored five guns in his home while he was repairing and upgrading the weapons.

. . .

Although Bell planned to focus on repairing and improving competition rifles, the federal license would have allowed him to sell other guns. Marcia Heymann, chairwoman of the zoning committee for the Southwest Area Partnership, said she worried the gunsmith business would expand into sales.

“The issue becomes not necessarily the intent in selling (guns),” she said, “it’s the ability to sell them.”

I think that's just a smokescreen. If the board were serious that their biggest concern was that Bell might start selling other guns, I'm sure some kind of restrictive language could have been written into the zoning variance. I think it was all about 'Guns Are Bad.'

I don't really think that Fort Wayne is the dumbest city in America. But I do think that some neighborhoods - and some city officials - can make us look that way.

Code Yawn! Spinmeisters To The Newsroom Stat!

The LA Times does its best to perform CPR on the rapidly fading Valerie Palme story:

Some folks say that as we learn more, the scandal is getting smaller, not larger. Valerie Plame was a CIA functionary commuting openly to agency headquarters, not a spy working behind enemy lines. The law against revealing the identities of intelligence agents is complicated and probably wasn't broken in this case. And the story line gets muddier: Journalists may have revealed Plame's identity to White House honchos.

What's the Times' response to all these points - the first two pretty much not in doubt and the third being highly likely?

We don't buy it.

I wish it were that easy for me. If I got pulled over for speeding and told that I was 20 over, I could just say 'I don't buy it.' and that would be that. Boy, would that be handy.

Maybe I'm being a bit too glib, because they go on to say

However they came to learn about this juicy factoid, people in the Bush administration misused an intelligence secret to discredit a critic of its Iraq policy.

Wow, three strikes in one sentence. No misuse, no secret, and Wilson discredited himself quite adequately, thank you just the same.

And outing Plame, whether illegal or not, did harm to our national security. Plame may work in Langley, Va., but she worked with others who work in more dangerous locales.

If this were true (e.g., as a case officer), she might be considered covered by the law. Is that what the Times is claiming? I'd like to see evidence of it (and good luck with that, by the way).

You only need to imagine how Republicans would have treated such a leak in the Clinton administration to dismiss their protestations that it's all no big deal.

Hardly. The same legacy media mouthpieces that spent eight years sucking Bill Clinton's dick would have shouted them down in a heartbeat.

Smash Your Car, Collect Your 72 Raisins! Offer Also Good For Human Torch!

In the course of looking up the most undignified way to do away with Abu Hook-za, I learned something interesting about Islam: according to Ask The Imam, Muslims who die in accidents - if they're the right kind of accidents - are considered shaheed (martyrs) and can drive in the express lane to Heaven!

Category 1: Sudden Impacts:

My sister passed away in a terrible car accident. What happens to Muslims who die in such accidents?

We are very sad to hear of the sudden death of your sister. May Allah Ta’ala grant you Sabr and reward your sister abundantly. She is indeed fortunate as she is a Shaheed. Among those enumerated as Shuhadaa, Rasulullah [Sallallaahu Alayhi Wasallam] enumerated a Saahib-e-hadm (a person who dies in an impact). Accidents are also included in this category.

Category 2: Burnt. To. Death.

Will my friend go to heaven? died [sic] in a car accident. The accident was really bad that he burned to death in the accident. My friend wasn't that good of a Muslim

. . .

Apparently, your friend may have passed away as a sinner, but Allah awarded him with the exalted position of martyrdom. Jaabir [radhiallaahu anhum] is reported that Nabi [sallallaahu alayhi wasallam] mentioned, ‘Besides the one who has passed away in the path of Allah, there are seven other people who are regarded as martyrs from these seven.’ Nabi [sallallaahu alayhi wasallam] is reported that the one burnt to death is also a martyre.’ (Abu Dawud)

I especially like the tone of the second one. It's like the imam thought "Naaaaah, doubt it, but I better check anyway... [flip flip flip] Huh. How about that?"

Letting 'Em Off The Leash

I haven't paying real real close attention, so this half-assed analysis is probably holey-er than Swiss cheese, but here's what I've seen:

1. Islamofascists bomb London.
2. Several low-level arrests quickly made.
3. Terrorists try again, much more feebly.
4. Many more arrests, including a large op going on even as I write this.

What I think happened:

The authorities had many suspects under surveillance prior to 7/7, but couldn't move on them due to PC/multi-culti/sensitivity/other pussified restrictions. After 7/7, quick policy change to "It's awwwwwwwn!"; broad terrorist hunting licenses issued. Many low-level guys (and I think a couple of mid-levelers) pulled in. Terrorists panic, move up timetable for follow-up attacks. Lots of loose shit ensues; attacks fizzle. Second wave of arrests, probably driven by info gotten from the first wave of arrestees (and I'm guessing that there were interrogation methods in use that Amnesty International would have frowned upon).

I would love for this story to end with Abu Hook-za hanged naked from a rope coated in bacon grease, left swinging (alone) for three days, and buried, unwashed, face down with his feet pointing towards Mecca.

It's A New Track Record!

Basking in the glow of yesterday's nine-post day (I think my previous best was four).

Naturally, I got nuthin' for today except to gloat about yesterday...

..and then remember that the Blogfather routinely does nine posts over lunch.

Perverts Of The Caribbean, Anyone?

You can't stop Local6 today, you can only hope to contain them: Police: Naked Man Uses Flashlight To Flash:

A 32-year-old man in Clermont, Fla., is accused of standing naked in the window of his home and using a flashlight to expose himself to people passing by, police told Local 6 News.

Three men called police Tuesday to report Daniel Cioffi was exposing himself.

When officers investigated, the Walt Disney World employee told investigators he was using the flashlight to clean cobwebs. [emphasis added]

Sing along with me, now... "It's a small dong aaaafter all, it's a small dong aaaafter all..." I wonder if he knows this guy?

So What Were They Going To Charge Him With, Anyway?

And the hits just keep on coming from Local6.com today - Police Give Man Amputated Foot Back:

LAWRENCE, Kan. -- Ezekiel Rubottom now has his left foot back exactly where he wants it - in a bucket on the front porch. Police in Kansas have returned the amputated foot to him after seizing it during the weekend to check out just how it got there.

The 21-year-old man's foot was amputated three weeks ago after a series of medical problems, and he started keeping it in a five-gallon bucket filled with formaldehyde.

. . .

Unsure of what to make of the unusual discovery, police confiscated the severed foot and put it into evidence storage.

"We had to make sure that no crime had been committed," Sgt. Dan Ward said.

Rubottom, an artist, recovering methamphetamine addict and occasional hip-hop master of ceremonies, said he was born with a clubbed foot and has dealt all his life with pressure sores and infections. An infection this summer became so severe that doctors at Lawrence Memorial Hospital decided it should be amputated.

. . .

Karen Shumate, a vice president at the hospital, said people can keep parts removed from their bodies if they want them.

"They've had women that want their uterus," she said. "People take tonsils. They take appendixes. I think it's unusual that someone would want a foot, but it's within their rights because it's theirs."

After a friend picked up the bucket at a hardware store, Rubottom added several objects as well as the severed foot - including a porcelain horse and can of beer - to make what he called "a collage of myself." He also cut off two of the toes, saying he was considering giving them to friends.

On Monday, police returned the foot to Rubottom after taking him to the hospital, where he signed a release allowing them to see his medical records. [emphasis added]

Good thing the guy didn't have more than five friends.

Make Sure Your Bone Saw Has A Food-Grade Blade

Yeah, I keep a pretty close eye on my referrer logs, especially now that I've disabled trackbacks. So I saw that someone came here searching for "how to cook a pig in the ground." They found my Iron Chef: Battle Long Pig parody script.

Man, I hope they don't use those recipes.

In The Future, Your Dumps Will Be Measured In Kilowatts

EE Times could have had some fun titling this article:

• From Crap To Current
• From Waste To Watts
• From Poop To Power
• Doody Dynamo
• God, Please, Somebody Stop Me!

but they went with the benign title of "Bacteria in wastewater harnessed for electricity":

Portland, Ore. — An environmental engineer has found a way not only to cleanse contaminated wastewater with its own bacteria but to generate electricity from the funky flow.

Lars Angenent, an assistant professor of chemical engineering at Washington University (St. Louis), has already prototyped his findings in a device the size of a thermos bottle — a variation on the hydrogen fuel cell — but he knows it will have to scale up dramatically to fill a commercial role.

With scaled-up capacity, Angenent said, a large food-processing plant, which now must cleanse its water at a cost, would be able to turn that processing into a profit center. Industrial-scale wastewater treatment plants, he said, could produce enough electricity to power thousands of households while simultaneously cleansing their water.

Angenent's microbial fuel cell design uses the bacteria from wastewater on its anode and cathode instead of platinum, enabling it to make a fuel from the water to create electricity while simultaneously neutralizing the biological matter that would otherwise have to be purged from the water.

. . .

"Today, contaminated water is treated in giant reactors that produce methane and carbon dioxide gas," Angenent said. "But the microbial fuel cell would use these treatment chambers to produce electricity instead."

Angenent estimated that a bioelectricity-generating wastewater treatment system based on a scaled-up version of the microbial fuel cell has the potential to power about 900 single-family American households from a single food-processing plant. Angenent performed the research in consultation with professor Shelley Minteer at St. Louis University and with the assistance of Washington University doctoral candidate Jason He.

Angenent's team continues to optimize the reactor configuration, with their next step being optimization of the reactor's operation and, finally, building a large system capable of processing millions of gallons of wastewater. "We believe that larger versions will be able to be used for local-neighborhood electricity generation," he said. "I want to have a large pilot-scale system within 10 years."

So the future of power generation may be a lot cleaner (or lots lots dirtier, depending on your perspective) than you think.

Life Imitates 'Animal House'

Flounder: I can't believe I threw up in front of Dean Wormer.
Boon: Face it, Kent, you threw up on Dean Wormer.

The Local6 love continues, with this story about a Kansas high schooler hurling on his Spanish teacher (and how exactly do you say 'blow chunks' in Spanish, anyway?):

The teen vomited on the teacher on the last day of classes at Olathe Northwest High School, outside Kansas City.

The boy's lawyer said his client had been nervous about his final exams but other students testified he'd planned it in advance. The teacher said he felt "sort of stunned" when it happened, and notes the student was failing his class.

He was convicted of battery. His sentence?

[he] will spend the next four months cleaning up after people who throw up in a police car.

A judge said Tuesday at sentencing that he considered the incident an assault on the dignity of all teachers.

Now Entering Massabama

Local6 is chock full of good stuff today. Never underestimate the ability of people to actively ignore the unexpected:

EASTHAMPTON, Mass. -- The highway signs at the intersection of Routes 10 and 141 might make you think you'd taken a wrong turn and wound up in the Deep South.

Amid the staid Yankee surroundings of this western Massachusetts town, the recently installed signs bear the outline of the state of Alabama, squashed to fit the square shape.

The incorrect signs had been up about a week when Joe Pipczynski, Easthampton's superintendent of public works, was alerted by a state Highway Department worker. [emphasis added]

Yeah, But In SoCal, It's A Dry Heat

This is going to be a big Local6 day. They report that Dolphins rookie DT Manuel Wright broke down during practice yesterday:

Miami Dolphins rookie Manuel Wright is apparently having a difficult time adjusting to the NFL.

Wright broke down in tears during practice Tuesday, frustration clearly getting the best of him.

The 6-foot-6, 290-pound defensive tackle from Southern California is Miami's supplemental draft pick this year.

Exactly why Wright lost his composure was unclear.

I'm guessing he was just mourning the downgrade in cheerleader quality from USC to the Dolphins.

It's A Reg'lar Epee-demic!

First there was Amber Rainey. Then Michele Hutchison. The latest entrant in the Self-Mutilation-For-Cash sweepstakes is Salt Lake City-area math whiz Kari Smith [another local6.com story. Those folks rock!]:

SALT LAKE CITY -- For $10,000, Kari Smith has gone ahead and had her forehead tattooed with the Web address of a gambling site. Bountiful, 30, who sold her unusual advertising space on eBay, said the money will give her 11-year-old son a private education, which she believes he needs after falling behind in school. "For the all the sacrifices everyone makes, this is a very small one," she said. "It's a small sacrifice to build a better future for my son," she said. "To everyone else, it seems like a stupid thing to do. To me, $10,000 is like $1 million. I only live once, and I'm doing it for my son," she said. [emphasis added]

If she thinks that $10K is like $1M, then it doesn't take much to figure out where her son's school problems come from. And who or what is 'Bountiful,' anyway?

OK, OK. We get picture:

It's White Trash Wednesday! Take the whole tour:

I Was Stone Chillin' / And He Hit Me With Ice / So I Jumped The Rail / So I Could Beat His Ass

The latest question to wake me from a sound sleep at 3:00 in the morning:

Ron Artest was suspended for a year. Why haven't we heard about his rap album? Didn't he have time to finish it?

WTW post coming shortly.

Why Do You Think They Call It 'Dope?'

Because it makes you do stupid shit like this:

A teenager was robbed at gunpoint in his home in the 3900 block of Fredericksburg Road — and then arrested when officers arrived and found drugs throughout the house, police said.

The teen was released Monday morning on bonds totaling $7,000.

A girlfriend found Stephen Knight, 17, on his bedroom floor at about 9:40 p.m. Sunday, bound with a belt and a strand of Christmas lights, police said.

Knight told investigators he was home alone when three young men forced themselves in by pointing a gun at his head, according to a police report.

The men stole about $30 worth of marijuana, a 42-inch plasma television, and Knight's cell phone and wallet, the report states.

Knight told police the men then hog-tied him with the string of lights.

It turned out that the thieves, whom police still are looking for, snagged only a portion of the pot in the home, according to the report.

Officers found a glass jar with 82 grams, or about 3 ounces, of marijuana inside a safe Knight opened for them, a marijuana plant growing under a heat lamp and one ecstasy pill, police documented.

It'd Be Like Me Giving Up INTERNET

The thought that woke me from a sound sleep at 3:00 this morning:

Do you think Lance Armstrong ride his bike yesterday?

This Is 'Ethical Treatment of Animals?'

From Randy Cassingham (who was blogging before blogging was blogging, and getting paid for it to boot) comes this story that exposes PETA for the racket it is:

After more than 100 dead dogs were dumped in a trash dumpster over four weeks, police in Ahoskie, N.C., kept an eye on the trash receptacle behind a supermarket. Sure enough, a van drove up and officers watched the occupants throw in heavy plastic bags. They detained the two people in the van and found 18 dead dogs in plastic bags in the dumpster, including puppies; 13 more dead dogs were still in the van. Police say the van is registered to the headquarters of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, and the two occupants, Andrew B. Cook, 24, and Adria Joy Hinkle, 27, identified themselves as PETA employees. An autopsy performed on one of the dogs found it was healthy before it was killed. Police say PETA has been picking up the animals -- alive -- from North Carolina animal shelters, promising to find them good homes. [emphasis added]

Not only that, it appears Cook and Hinkle were euthanizing them right in the van, using drugs they weren't qualified to handle:

Ahoskie Police Detective Jeremy Roberts said Tuesday he had received confirmation concerning the drugs found in the van occupied by two workers for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) last month.

"We have received confirmation from the SBI Crime Lab the drugs contained in the tackle box were Ketamine and Pentobarbital," Roberts said.

The Sergeant said the bottles were labeled with the professional name of the drugs.

According to Roberts, the drugs are Schedule III drugs which are regulated by the Drug Enforcement Agency and could only be purchased by a licensed Veterinarian.

. . .

At the request of this newspaper, Dr. Cheryl Powell of the Powellsville Pet Clinic shared information about the two drugs.

Dr. Powell, who is a licensed veterinarian, said Ketamine is primarily used as aesthetic drug that is used to sedate animals.

"You would have to get carried away with that drug to kill," Dr. Powell said.

She said the Pentobarbital was the sedative given to animals to euthanize them.

In both cases, Dr. Powell said a DEA license was required purchase the drugs.

Something doesn't add up here. This is a pattern of behavior by PETA in at least two places - North Carolina and their Virginia headquarters:

From July 1998 through the end of 2003, PETA killed over 10,000 dogs, cats, and other "companion animals" -- at its Norfolk, Virginia headquarters. That's more than five defenseless animals every day. Not counting the dogs and cats PETA spayed and neutered, the group put to death over 85 percent of the animals it took in during 2003 alone.

Why would they bother taking animals at all if they knew they'd have to euthanize the vast majority of them? I would expect that this kind of behavior would offend their animal-worshipping sensitivities and that they'd prefer to leave the 'mercy killings' to others.

I have a hypothesis that maybe they're making money on the deal (after all, defending eco-terrorism isn't cheap (see #3 on this page)). I'm looking into it; meanwhile, we have these tantalizing tidbits:

On its 2002 federal income-tax return, PETA claimed a $9,370 write-off for a giant walk-in freezer, the kind most people use as a meat locker or for ice-cream storage. But animal-rights activists don't eat meat or dairy foods. So far, the group hasn't confirmed the obvious -- that it's using the appliance to store the bodies of its victims.

In 2000, when the Associated Press first noted PETA's Kervorkian-esque tendencies, PETA president Ingrid Newkirk complained that actually taking care of animals costs more than killing them. "We could become a no-kill shelter immediately," she admitted.

And now, in accordance with my policy, I have to go kill an animal and eat it. I think I'd like some venison sausage this time.

Great Strides Made In Head-Replacement Surgery

Today a foot, tomorrow another head:

[full story at local6.com]

Blegging For An IPod, Again

Gee, I totally forgot - I signed up at freeipods.com last December. Perhaps unsurprisingly, nobody's signed up through me yet (I reckon that's a side effect of my, you know, not actually telling anybody about it since, um, last December).

Anyway. Here's how it works: you register at the site through a referral link. In this case, MY referral link. You sign up for one of the special offers listed, then you get your own referral link. Get five friends to sign up through your referral link and complete an offer, and you get a free iPod. At press time, you can choose between a 20GB iPod or a 4GB mini iPod (in true Apple style, you get your choice of color). Yes, it's definitely multi-level marketing, but it ain't like Amway where you have to have a pyramid of 64 people extending eight levels below you to make any money at it. One offer, five friends at one offer each (and some of them are cancellable after freeipods.com credits you for completing the offer but before you're actually charged any money), and you're done. I chose Blockbuster Online because I've been thinking about trying it out anyway.

You can read more about the offer on wired.com, engadget.com, and geek.com. And I'll make the same offer that my referrer made to me - once I get my iPod, I'll change my referrer link to yours (one referral at a time, first come first serve).

Hitler[AoE]: wtf Normandy?!?!?!!111?!1/??/11one

Random Nuclear Strikes pointed me to If WWII Was an RTS. Freakin' hilarious. Highlights:

T0J0: lol o no america im comin 4 u
Roosevelt: wtf! thats bullsh1t u fags im gunna kick ur asses
T0JO: not without ur harbors u wont! lol
Roosevelt: u little biotch ill get u
Hitler[AoE]: wtf
Hitler[AoE]: america hax, u had depression and now u got a huge fockin army
Hitler[AoE]: thats bullsh1t u hacker
Churchill: lol no more france for u hitler
Hitler[AoE]: tojo help me!
T0J0: wtf u want me to do, im on the other side of the world retard
Hitler[AoE]: fine ill clear you a path
Stalin: WTF u arsshoel! WE HAD A FoCKIN TRUCE
Hitler[AoE]: i changed my mind lol

and

Stalin: church help me
Churchill: like u helped me before? sure ill just sit here
Stalin: dont be an arss
Churchill: dont be a commie. oops too late
Eisenhower: LOL
benny-tow: hahahh oh sh1t help
Hitler: o man ur focked
paTTon: oh what now biotch
Roosevelt: whos the cripple now lol
*benny-tow has been eliminated.*

and

*Roosevelt has left the game.*
Hitler[AoE]: wtf?
Eisenhower: sh1t now we need some1 to join
*tru_m4n has joined the game.*
tru_m4n: hi all
T0J0: hey
Stalin: sup
Churchill: hi
tru_m4n: OMG OMG OMG i got all his stuff!
tru_m4n: NUKES! HOLY **** I GOT NUKES
Stalin: d00d gimmie some plz
tru_m4n: no way i only got like a couple
Stalin: omg dont be gay gimmie nuculer secrets
T0J0: wtf is nukes?
T0J0: holy ****holy****hoyl****!
*T0J0 has been eliminated.*
*The Allied team has won the game!*
Eisenhower: awesome!

But this one was my favorite:

*Stalin has left the game.*
paTTon: lol no1 is left
paTTon: weeeee i got a jeep
*paTTon has been eliminated.*
paTTon: o sh1t!
*paTTon has left the game.*

Sadly, Laser-Capable Sharks Didn't Make The List Either

Edmonton's Vue Weekly has a rundown of Hollywood's best death rays. Of course, heading the list is Darth Vader's penile substitute:

Set aside the standard suspense-creation of a countdown list—that shit’s for Cosmo and David Letterman. We all know who wins this contest, so let’s get this bad boy outta the way quick. Which bad boy? The bad Death Star beam boy, of course. A full-on, no-nonsense, kill-everybody-now planet-smasher, it’s as if millions of lasers cried out in terror and were suddenly awesome. Also, the gunnery crew had those cool helmets with the underbite blast shields.

I disagree about the helmets - they made me think of humanoid cockroaches. But I especially loved how the four sub-beams moved in slow motion, formed up, thought about it a second, then took off to go blow something up.

Also on the list was my personal favorite:

Proton streams, Ghostbusters

They’re produced by unlicensed nuclear accelerators, they’re untested and they’re not to be crossed; the ghost-snaring proton streams are perfectly realized on film with a wild, unpredictable, snaking blast of barely-controlled pure energy. Look at those dudes! They can barely hold on to their projector nozzles. These are truly the weapons of a gang of irresponsible genius science-cowboys with nothing left to lose but their immortal souls. Brilliant.

I'm reminded of the part where they switch them on for the first time in an elevator and other people slowly backed away.

The other ones on the list:

Martian heat ray, War of the Worlds (1953)
Scanning beam, Tron
Pure love, The Fifth Element
Radioactive breath, Godzilla et al.
Crotch laser, Goldfinger
The map room ray, Raiders of the Lost Ark
The SOL laser, Akira
The White House wrecker, Independence Day
Lifetime achievement award: Star Trek

All well and good (although I think the Martian heat ray and 'pure love' were kind of lame), but how could they possibly miss the myriad of beamage shown in Mars Attacks?

[h/t - BBspot]

Freedom vs. Tupelo Fire Ants, 5/28/2005

Some pictures from the game (all hosted on flickr.com):

Adrian Reese gets 27 yards on this first-quarter reception; he would get a 14-yard TD catch on the next play.

Andrae Brooks introduces Fireants #3 to Section 211, row 1. I didn't get #3's name because the Fireants' lame website doesn't list numbers for any of their players (and the UIF website roster page for the Fireants has several numbers missing).

Luther Stroder's 27-yard TD catch made the score 24-3 early in the second quarter:

Lewis 'Bam' Carter shows the ballcarier where his knickname comes from.

This Rocky Harvey third-quarter TD made it 38-12. He would add another TD in the fourth quarter.

Rachman Crable drops Tommy Miller for no gain.

Final score:

I Reckon He Got Gang Tackled A Lot, Too

Heard on Bob & Tom yesterday:

"The NFL training season's opening. The Ravens' Jamal Lewis will have some adjustments to make. During the last few months, if he tried to break to the outside, a guard would shoot him."

If you don't get it, read this.

Use An Air Compressor, Go To Jail

Once again, another true WTW story of local origin. Tossing ammonia tank at police nets woman 6 years:

ALBION – A Kimmell woman was sentenced to six years in prison Thursday, two months after prosecutors say she threw a tank of anhydrous ammonia at police.

Maylene L. McClelland, 32, was charged May 2 with possession of precursors with the intent to manufacture methamphetamine, a Class C felony punishable by two to eight years in prison, as well as possession of anhydrous ammonia with the intent to manufacture methamphetamine and criminal recklessness, both Class D felonies punishable by six months to three years in prison. She also faced a misdemeanor charge of improper storage of anhydrous ammonia.

In a plea agreement reached with Noble County Prosecutor Steven Clouse, McClelland pleaded guilty June 23 to possession of precursors and improper storage in exchange for a six-year sentence.

But Thursday, her public defender, James Abbs, argued that McClelland should be able to serve part of her time on probation because she is pregnant.

Abbs argued that McClelland, whom Abbs said has a serious substance abuse problem [ya think? -ed], could live with her aunt, who would help take care of the baby. McClelland, he said, could report to prison when the baby is a year old.

Odds on that actually working out: somewhere between "Woody Hayes coming back from the dead to coach Michigan" and "Bill Clinton making an honest living."

At least we have a judge who knows the score:

[Circuit Judge David] Laur sentenced McClelland – who has seven other children – to prison for all of her six-year sentence.

“I would have to be from a different world to put you on probation,” he said.

. . .

“Given your behavior to date, I consider (your children) better off with you in the Department of Correction,” Laur said. “It’s up to you to change.”

Well, at least she'll be able to get meth eaiser there.

According to a probable cause affidavit, McClelland was the passenger in a 1989 Dodge truck that led police on a pursuit from Albion east past Indiana 3. She and the driver, Joshua A. Kelley, 23, of the 3100 block of West Tibbot Street in Wawaka, were on their way to DeKalb County to manufacture methamphetamine, the affidavit said.

. . .

Albion officers chased the truck on Indiana 8, getting help from the Avilla Town Marshal’s Office, Kendallville Police Department and Noble County Sheriff’s Department. On Indiana 8, Kendallville officers laid down stop sticks, which blew the truck’s tires, police said.

But the truck continued across Indiana 3, and in the 9600 block of County Road 300 North, McClelland threw an air compressor tank full of anhydrous ammonia at Avilla Town Marshal Glen Wills, police said.

The chemical created a cloud in the air, the affidavit said, and four officers had trouble breathing.

The episode shows that McClelland had no regard for her health or the health of her unborn child, [Noble County Prosecutor Steven] Clouse argued. “Her intent was to go make some methamphetamine.”

It's White Trash Wednesday! Take the whole tour:

Iron Chef: Battle Lamb

Theme Ingredient: six lambs from Pauillac, France
Iron Chef: Sakai
Challenger: Michel Husser, Owner/Chef, Le Cerf, Alsace, France
Remarks: I don't know when this episode aired on FoodTV, but I'm guessing sometime in the second half of 2000.

Sopexa is a bi-annual French cooking competition for Japanese chefs; eminent French chef Joel Robuchon was the head of the jury. The 1998 (I think) winner was Akira Itoh, chef at the Royal Park Hotel, whose winning lamb dish bowled over the jury. Kaga, however, wasn't impressed, and he wanted to reach beyond even that for Battle Lamb. Enter Michel Husser, Owner/Chef, Le Cerf, Alsace, France (himself on the Sopexa jury). Husser trained under his father from age 10, then apprenticed at 18, studying under Alain Senderens, the leader of the "nouvelle cuisine" movement in France. At 22, he returned to Le Cerf and took over as 4th generation head chef, earning a Michelin two star rating five years later. Head on, he challenged Iron Chef French Hiroyuki Sakai. I like that kind of 'to be the man you have to beat the man' thinking; I always feel slightly ripped off when, for instance, a Chinese-style chef (any variety) takes on Kobe instead of Chen. Kobe in particular often gets picked on in this fashion; I think it's because he's younger than the others.

In a bit of a break from form, both chefs knew in advance that lamb would be the theme ingredient; specifically, six lambs from Pauillac, France. Husser was shaking his head when the lamb was presented; I'm not sure why. Maybe he thought it wasn't the right kind or something. You know how those French can be. Guest commentators were actress Akiko Nishina and sportscaster (and ex-baseball player) Kazushige "Junior" Nagashima, who's a pretty big guy, and whom I remember from a previous battle saying "I ate two box lunches before the competition so I wouldn't be hungry". Enigmatic photographer Tenmei Kanoh and the ferocious Asako Kishi were the other judges; Sopexa winner Itoh also tasted but did not judge.

Husser brought five dishes before the panel:
1. Lamb liver and foie gras salad. Walnuts and apples were also featured.
2. Fried lamb tenderloin, mustard flavor. Salt-cured cabbage was included. Kishi liked it and Kanoh was impressed as well; Nagashima thought he could eat twenty or thirty of them.
3. Alsace style stew. Lamb meat loaf rolled in pasta dough and cooked in consomme. Nishina liked the choice of flavorings; Kanoh liked it too.
4. Roast lamb and soubise. The gelatin is key to the texture here. Kanoh liked the contrast in flavors, calling it a "perfected dish."
5. Lamb belly saute and bell pepper sorbet. The sorbet was served with white wine poured over it. This dish was a big hit with all tasters.

Sakai's retort also had five dishes:
1. Roast lamb & foie gras royale. This dish features Sakai's ability to fuse Japanese techniques with French recipes.
2. Lamb stew & French-style fried rice. The rice was sweetened with fruit. Kishi thought it was a bit undercooked, but Kanoh liked it.
3. Filet pie crust grill & roast round meat. The main dish; almost a meal in itself. The crust was a Alsace-based recipe in tribute to the challenger; Sakai served it himself off a silver tray. Nishina: "It almost tastes like flowers." Kishi and Junior both liked it a lot; Kanoh liked the contrast between the grill and the round.
4. Lemon & basil sorbet. Served with fried lamb slices.
5. French style tenderloin, shabu-shabu. Made with lamb tenderloin.

Itoh said all of Husser's dishes were beyond anything he had done at Sopexa.

Sakai's stew had several condiments on the side, and tasters were invited to use them as desired to adjust the taste. I don't remember any Iron Chef saying that before, but it seems to have paid off here; Nishina didn't like the stew at first, but was able to adjust the taste to her liking.

Kanoh said at the end of the tasting that he'd vote it a tie just so they could come back and cook again.

Kaga said the dishes were the best lamb dishes he'd ever had, and was sad that he had to announce a winner. But he did; he voted 20-19 Husser. Nishina went 19-18 Sakai, Nagashima 20-19 Husser, and Kishi 19-17 Husser.

Freedom v. Peoria Rough Riders, 5/14/2005

Trying to catch up my picture backlog (all photos hosted on flickr.com).

Rocky Harvey scores on a 10-yard run in the first quarter:

Rachman Crable sacks Rough Riders quarterback Walter Church in the third quarter:

Familiarity Breeds Monotony

Or at least that's what it feels like to beat the same team four times in a season. Oh, how the worm has turned. Ohio Valley used to pwn the Freedom, winning four of the first five times they played. Of course, with the screwy UIF playoff situation (8 of the 11 teams make the playoffs), the Freedom may have to beat the Greyhounds five times this season. Photos below the fold.

Carlos Smith and (I think) Mike Hanley squish Jay Bailey for a 2-yard loss:

Jeremy Dutcher's first touchdown of the game. Look how wide open he is - I'm surprised he didn't die of loneliness:

Somewhere under Rachman Crable and Alf Fertil is Greyhounds QB Zach Bruney. What I thought was a sack for a safety turned out to be a roughing penalty:

My favorite picture of the night:

Less Like 'Ben Hur' Than 'Been Hurt'

[Part II of my Fourth of July story is here. Part I is here.]

We got back just in time for all the day-trippers to head back to the Fort, which left Gunner and Cover Girl in the position of being at the wrong location without their vehicle. Of course, if I'd known that what should have been a twenty-minute trip would have taken more than two hours, I would have left them at the IICNBIWDTSUL and let them drive themselves back. See what I mean when I say I have trouble with "X people traveling in Y vehicles to Z locations" problems? We got somebody to drop them off at the IICNBIWDTSUL on their way back to the Fort. At least I assume we did, because we didn't seem them after that. Maybe they walked. Who knows?

So to answer the burning question at the end of Part II ("I had gone almost two hours without beer on Fourth of July weekend. Somebody was going to have to pay."), who ended up paying?

Me, of course. I was gone long enough that everybody else drank all of my beer, and I had to go buy more.

Not long after I returned , Tater and Cueball came down the hill in their chariot, and when I say 'chariot' I mean "golf cart towing a wheelchair," to tell us it was time for the race. You think I'm kidding about that? Here's a picture from Memorial Day weekend, where Project Chariot completed its Concept Evaluation Phase (on a budget of 75 cents - 50 cents for the wheelchair at a garage sale, 25 cents for rope):

Since we only had one chariot, the race would have to be against the clock, on a mixed-terrain course laid out over the lowest level of the addition (Rogers told me they'd originally designed the course to run up the hill, and that part worked OK, but on the downhill return the wheelchair kept outpacing the golf cart). Since I was now going on three hours without a beer, I was far too sober to even consider participating, but I did volunteer to serve as official timekeeper. And quite a lucrative position it was, too, with bribes being offered from all directions. If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have needed to make the beer run in the first place!

About three contestants into the race, flower_goddess noted how self-appropriate the wheelchair was - the first person to seriously hurt himself would need it to get around afterwards! Fortunately, it didn't come to that, as the race ended without anything more serious than a spilled beer (although we did observe a moment of silence in memory of that). DA took first place - although there was some whining from the Kenny/Carmine Racing Team that DA had used illegal aerodynamics to gain an unfair advantage - but since we'd never really decided on a prize, we just dunked him in the lake.

It was dark by the time we finished dinner, but I was in the mood for Night Vision Jarts.
"Wouldn't you rather have the field lit up?" Dimples asked me. As I've said before, she's more or less the conscience of the neighborhood, which is an admirable position especially considering that keeping her husband DA out of trouble is a full-time job.
"Well, yeah, but you remember what happened on Memorial Day weekend." DA and Carmine had tried to use a slim jim to crack the lock to the box controlling the field lights, resulting in an impressive impromoptu fireworks display and a couple of new Napoleon Dynamite-style hairdos.
"Which is why I got the key from the association president."
"Game on!"

Before we could get the lights on, however, we saw a set of headlights coming down the hill. "I think that's psycho-ex-wife," Saint said. That got everybody's undivided attention, and we all dove behind DA and Dimple's place hoping she wouldn't see us, think nobody was home, and head out again.

A little background about psycho-ex-wife: the 'hood had finally convinced Saint to divorce her a few months before, after several years of increasingly bizarre behavior on her part. Case in point: on a previous trip to the sandbar, psycho-ex-wife accidentally knocked the ashtray off the floating bar into the water, then spent the next ten minutes berating Saint for having done it, despite the fact that he was fifteen feet away at the time of the incident and four other people had seen her do it! Anyway, the divorce was still fairly fresh, and nobody in the 'hood had the heart to tell psycho-ex-wife that Saint got all the friends in the divorce and she shouldn't come round no mo'. Yes, I realize that makes us bad people, but that's the way it is. Last we knew, she was living on a boat with a guy that we're pretty sure is gay (possibly explaining her lament that "nothing's happened between us yet"). But I digress.

Fortunately, it wasn't psycho-ex-wife, but Deej and Rusty, who stopped by to tell us about a potluck cookout they were having the next day. They joined us for a few games of Jarts under the lights (DA and I went undefeated in five games, thankyuhvurramuch), and I managed to get back to the proper point on the Beer Curve about the time everybody went to bed.

That'll teach me to play chauffeur on a holiday weekend.

That Address Is 12 Yemen Road, Yemen

Shining the light where the Yemeni government would prefer it stay dark: Jane of Armies of Liberation (h/t Dean's World, which I think makes me a Deaniac).

Shouldn't There Be A Telethon Or Something?

This just goes to show that Bush Derangement Syndrome can strike anyone, even someone I thought was fairly sane by Democratic standards:

Young liberals this week flocked to the nation's capital to hear, among other things, liberal television pundit and Democrat political strategist Paul Begala accuse Republicans of wanting to kill him and his children to preserve tax cuts for the rich.

Begala was featured at the first-ever Campus Progress National Student Conference, which was designed to provide campus liberals with the tools necessary to fight the conservative movement. The event also drew former President Bill Clinton, for whom Begala once worked as an advisor.

. . .

Begala's presence on the panel created a stir when he declared that Republicans had "done a p***-poor job of defending" the U.S.

Republicans, he said, "want to kill us.

"I was driving past the Pentagon when that plane hit" on Sept. 11, 2001. "I had friends on that plane; this is deadly serious to me," Begala said.

"They want to kill me and my children if they can. But if they just kill me and not my children, they want my children to be comforted -- that while they didn't protect me because they cut my taxes, my children won't have to pay any money on the money they inherit," Begala said. "That is bulls*** national defense, and we should say that."

OK, let me try to follow this: Begala saw the plane hit the Pentagon (but I thought the evil neocons blew up the Pentagon! Guess Begala didn't get the moonbat talking points memo). Because he saw it, Republicans now want to kill him and his family? Or maybe just him, and then take care of his family? And this is a national defense problem how?

Wow. But it gets weirder:

The Clinton administration's national security efforts involved the right blend of "experience" and "strength," Begala said, an assertion with which the 9/11 Commission apparently disagreed.

Here, I can see his point, for sufficiently broad definitions of 'experience' and 'strength:' "turn our military into the Peace Corps" and "flip a couple of cruise missiles at an aspirin factory and an empty training camp," respectively.

Maybe the infection vector for BDS is verbal:

"Okay, they are utterly and completely brain-dead," echoing comments earlier this year by Democratic National Committee Chairman Howard Dean, who accused Republicans of being "brain dead."

Frank [Thomas Frank, author of "What's the Matter with Kansas"] insisted that Republicans are not quite as tough on national security as many Americans think.

"Franklin Roosevelt got us in World War II. They dragged the Republicans kicking and screaming. They didn't want to get in that war. They didn't have any problem with Hitler. I won't go so far as to say they thought Hitler rocked. But there were people in America who did, and they didn't want us to get in that war."

The insinuation here is that because some Americans supported Hitler, and the Republicans (allegedly) had to be dragged "kicking and screaming" into fighting in WWII, that Republicans are Nazis.

"Democrats have always been just as tough as Republicans once they're in office," Frank said.

See the definitions of 'experience' and 'strength' above.

The Lame Leading The Blonde

[Part I of my Fourth of July story is here. Recall that when we left our intrepid heroes, Saint, Gunner, Mountaineer, and myself were waiting at the sandbar for DA to return, and there was some question as to whether he would return at all.]

Right about the time I was sizing up Saint and determining whether I could overpower him and take his beer (conclusion: not only 'no,' but 'hell, no!'), DA came around the point with the rest of the group, and, far more importantly, the rest of the beer. And there was much rejoicing.

Gunner's and Cover Girl's daughters had stolen half of the floating bar and were using it as a makeshift diving platform, or at least a cannonball platform, when one of them got too close to the edge of it when she jumped and inadvertently demonstrated Newton's Third Law. Nobody wanted to chase the foam raft as it drifted back towards the shore, mainly because the bottom there was 50% sludge, 50% weeds, and 50% oh-God-what-was-that. I had my sport sandals on, so I went after it figuring I was OK.

Not so much.

I forget exactly where I gave up wading towards it ('mucking' would be a better word) - it may have been just after I saw the remains of Jimmy Hoffa - and swam the last twenty feet. Have you ever tried swimming in a foot and a half of water? It's quite an experience. Anyway, about the time I returned with the raft, BB started yelping and carrying on, saying that something kept biting at her ankle no matter where in the water she was standing. As she raised her leg up to show everbody, we saw she was wearing a shiny bangled bracelet.

"Well, no wonder," DA said. "You're wearing a damn spinner bait on your leg."

She took the bracelet off and put it on the boat; lo and behold, the fish stopped bothering her.

About that time, DA asked me if I felt like taking the jet-ski for a spin around the lake. I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, because I don't have much experience driving jet-skis and this was the busiest weekend the lake had seen all season.

So I stayed well clear of any traffic and made a leisurely quarter-throttle lap of the lake. Apparently, that one lap served as the check ride for my Jet-Ski Chauffeur's License, because the next thing I knew, I was taking Gunner and Cover Girl to the [DELETED] Inn (known henceforth as the Inn I Cannot Name Because It Would Disclose The Secure Undisclosed Location, or IICNBIWDTSUL), where they had reservations and had parked their truck but had not yet checked in.

The trip was uneventful until the fuel stop at one end of the channel connecting the two lakes we had to cross. Gunner and Cover Girl had even less jet-ski experience than I did, and I had to yell at them to stop them leaning away from every turn I was trying to make. The fuel stop itself was hilarious, and by 'hilarious' I mean 'funny to watch on "America's Stupidest Vacation Videos."' The guy manning the pumps got a kick out of it, though, and he assured us that as n00bish as we were, we weren't the worst he'd seen that day.

Five seconds later, we came within an inch of flipping the jet-ski. In front of three dozen boats in the channel and fifty people on the bridge. In two feet of water and at a dead stop. But we survived that and motored through the channel at idle speed, ready for a fast dash across the next lake to the IICNBIWDTSUL. We cleared the no-wake zone and I got on the throttle...

...and nothing much happened. The engine revved fine, but we couldn't get above three or four MPH. In retrospect, trudging on was probably not the best idea I've ever had, but eventually - including a rather harrowing crossing of one stretch where the lake narrows to about 200' and every boat in Indiana was trying to traverse it at once - we were able to make our way to the big sandbar right near the IICNBIWDTSUL.

Now, the big sandbar is a sight to behold on summer weekends, and that day it didn't disappoint. There were probably two hundred boats all crowded into a space half the size of a football field, and every one of those boats featured a fabulous pair of... floats. But I digress. Right about this time, I remembered just how a jet-ski works, and that a free-revving engine with minimal forward thrust was probably the fault of a clogged intake. Two seconds later, I was over the side and underneath to check things out.

Much to the chagrin of Gunner and Cover Girl. I had neglected to inform them of my plans.

A couple of minutes later, I'd pulled several tons of seaweed out of the intake, and the last quarter mile to the IICNBIWDTSUL was but a few moments' ride. I waited at the inn's dock while Gunner and Cover Girl checked in and unpacked; they wanted to ride back with me rather than drive back to DA's addition in their own truck, which was fine by me but introduced a potential 'X people traveling on Y vehicles to Z locations' problem of the type that I have a lot of trouble solving.

The return trip was much more agreeable. At one point in open water, I had the throttle at least half-open, and we were going so fast I thought if we hit a bump we'd actually make orbit. Then I looked down at the speedometer.

28 MPH.

My nephew has a trolling motor on his boat that can go faster than that.

We were gone so long that the rest of the group had pulled up stakes at the little sandbar and were headed back to DA's place by the time we got there.

I realized when we arrived that I had gone almost two hours without beer on Fourth of July weekend. Somebody was going to have to pay. And you'll find out who in Part III.

What's The Expiration Date On Human Loin, Anyway?

My biggest problem with this little turd of PETAformance art [link]?

They didn't stretch the cellophane tight enough for long enough.

And We Shall Fight Them In The Cornfields...

Somebody call Tim Bedore - another species has been identified as part of the animal conspiracy, and they've made their first move:

A seasonal worker for a Steuben County seed company was literally bowled over Thursday evening when a deer in a cornfield where he worked ran into him.

Bonito DeLeon, 53, was struck by a deer on the run just before 8 p.m. after DeLeon and several other workers for the Lord Seed Co. in Howe startled a group of the animals resting in the cornfield southeast of Indiana 327 and County Road 400 North near Orland.

The blow threw DeLeon back, sending him airborne and knocking him unconscious, said Indiana Conservation Officer James Price, who was on the scene Thursday.

. . .

DeLeon was taken by helicopter to Parkview Hospital, where he was tested for internal injuries and released about midnight, said Sherrie Larimer, human resources manager for Lord Seed Co. He stayed overnight in the hospital’s guest house, Larimer said, and she was going to pick him up Friday afternoon.

With the corn 5 1/2 feet tall, the collision, which happened at dusk, was probably just as startling for the deer as it was for the workers, Price said.

According to workers Thursday, three deer, in their haste to escape, circled the workers. One ran to the left of DeLeon, one ran to the right of him and one ran straight into him, a written statement from Indiana Conservation Officers said.

I'm sure the other two deer had targets of their own; fortunately, they must have been thwarted by anti-deer countermeasures.

And A Car With A Confederate Flag On It Is 'Family Friendly?'

OK, so Ben Jones from the original Dukes of Hazzard series won't be watching the upcoming movie:

ATLANTA - A former star of the “The Dukes of Hazzard” TV show is urging fans to skip the forthcoming movie version, calling it “a sleazy insult.”

Ben Jones, a former Georgia congressman who played the wisecracking mechanic Cooter on the popular series from 1979 to 1985, said profanity and sexual content in the film make a mockery of the family friendly show.

Ben. Your character's name was 'Cooter!'

You May Fire When You Are Rea- Uh, Never Mind

I was ready to open up with all batteries on this Tiny Mix Tapes request:

The four girls who were my best friends for the past eight years, aka half of my life announced a few months ago that they hate the way I am. Basically I learned that for the past 3 years they've thought that I’m a horrible, rude, angry, defensive asshole who acts like the world is against her, have always put down others' opinions, that it's always "I’m right you're wrong fuck you", and that I practically strangle anyone who makes a joke. They said that I don't respect others' opinions. That really scared me. If that's the aura I’d been putting out, which I really hope it wasn't, I was very worried. If they'd been noticing it for three whole years, and been talking about me, the horrible rude insensitive bitch cunt, between themselves for that entire time, shouldn't I be wondering why they waited so long to tell me?

Until I got to this part, which kind of hit a nerve because a sister of one of my son's friends committed suicide last week:

I began seriously considering suicide, so that I wouldn't have to subject any more nice, pleasant people to my horrendous self.

But they think I’m doing it on purpose for attention, and that it's my own bad attitude that's making me feel this way.

So I've been wanting to make a fresh start, since my best boy friend who for some reason actually likes me talked me out of a bottle of aspirin. And my heart needs to heal.

So instead of a mocking 'Oh, woe is me!' rant like I was all wound up to do, I'll just say this:

Your 'friends' are toxic. Find new ones. Fast.

I've cracked on tinymixtapes.com before (here and here), but occasionally I see some really good requests:

• My friends only listen to ska music. I need some rock and roll with horns to placate them for car rides.
• CLEANING A BASEMENT AFTER BEING BIT BY A SPIDER AND THINKING TO MYSELF, WHY THE HELL DID I BUY ALL THIS STUFF IN THE FIRST PLACE? I MEAN REALLY, I CONTINUE TO SAY TO MYSELF, WHO NEEDS A UKULELE WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN PLAY ONE? OH, ME.
• I've found several old mix tapes in glove compartments and things lately. Each of these tapes has songs on them that I distinctly remember liking when I was younger. However, now that I'm older, I wouldn't admit to liking these songs. I need a mix of songs you remember liking years ago, but can no longer admit to ever having liked them...for the sake of your musical ego. Serendipitous link of the day: Right Thinking Girl.
• Music for drinking on a porch on a summer Thursday afternoon. I wonder if that would be adaptable for "drinking in a garage on a summer Friday night?"
• Songs for picking your license out of the broken glass surrounding what used to be your first car. (Make me forget that a cracked-out naked woman just demolished my freedom)
• A mix for carol who didn't wear her goggles and now she doesn't need them... apparently her high school chemistry class used highly dangerous chemicals that ate her eyes...
• i need a mixtape for people to leave my party. I find that "Party's over, all y'all get out!" works pretty well in my neighborhood.
• the wife has agreed to stay home and watch the kids, while i go play poker with the fellas. i need a tape to play poker to.
• And, last but not least, for the husband who thinks his darling wife is home with the kids while he plays poker. music to get naughty too...

All They're Doing Is Taking You At Your Word...

Today's tip: if you like to rap about destroying America, don't expect to keep a sensitive job in our air-transport system:

HOUSTON -- When Bassam Khalaf raps, he's the Arabic Assassin. His unreleased CD, "Terror Alert," includes rhymes about flying a plane into a building and descriptions of himself as a "crazy, suicidal Arabic ... equipped with bombs."

Until last week, Khalaf also worked as a baggage screener at George Bush Intercontinental Airport.

"I've been screening your bags for the past six months, and you don't even know it," said Khalaf, who also said Thursday that he is not really a terrorist and that his rhymes are exaggerations meant to gain publicity.

Of course not - he would prefer the term 'freedom fighter.' What, exactly, did the TSA use as their justification for firing him?

An Internet search of Khalaf's name brings up Web sites that feature his obscene, violent and misogynistic raps that threaten to fly a plane into a building on Sept. 11, 2005.

Khalaf, 21, was hired on Jan. 16 and fired July 7, according to a TSA termination letter that cited his "authorship of songs which applaud the efforts of the terrorists on September 11th, encourage and warn of future acts of terrorism by you, discuss at length and in grave and alarming detail various criminal acts you intend to commit, state your belief that the U.S. government should be overthrown, and finally warn that others will die on September 11, 2005."

His defense? "All my friends are doing it:"

Khalaf said his terrorist-themed rhymes are more about marketing. He called his songs art and pointed to other rappers who have rhymed about terrorism. He specifically cites Eminem's song, "My Dad's Gone Crazy," which discusses blowing everything on the map up except Afghanistan and says: "There's no tower too high, no plane that I can't learn how to fly."

And I imagine if Mr. Mathers applied for a baggage-handling job, he might have a little trouble with the background check too.

"Controversy sells," Khalaf said. "It brings a lot of attention. Everybody wants to label all Arabics terrorists just because a couple of people messed up. Well, I'm going to play along with that character. I'm going to let you think I'm one."

Mission accomplished, bud. And be careful what you wish for.

Wanta Fant-lip?

In a recent flypaper meeting, somebody brought up the fact that the local theaters are running more and more commercials before their movies start, mentioning the Wanta Fanta? commercials as among the most annoying. I made the mistake of saying the last time I saw one of those at the movies, it stuck in my head for two days.

Now whenever anybody walks past my office, I can hear them humming "Wanta Fanta? Don'tcha wanta, wanta Fanta?"

Sons'a'bitches.

You'll Find Us At The Intersection Of Pi And Avogadro's Number

I was told to get off at State Road 6.4167, but I saw this sign. Was this what they meant?

It was my understanding there would be no math.

But seriously, folks...

They're called 'fractional routes,' and they're explained here:

H.B. Elkins, webmaster of West Virginia Roads [link], writes: "These (Fractional Routes) are county routes, although they are maintained by the state. West Virginia signs its state routes in a square or rectangular marker. The county routes either have whole numbers or "fractional" numbers. The whole numbers are the main county routes. The "fractional" routes serve as minor branch routes off the major routes, either the state or U.S. routes or whole county routes. The numerator is the main route the highway branches from; the denominator tells what branch. For instance, you may be driving along U.S. 119 and you'll see a succession of markers for 119/1, 119/2, 119/3, etc. If you were driving along County Route 1, you might see signs for routes 1/4, 1/7, etc.

Shirts? They Wore Shirts?

So I'm doing my blogrounds this morning, and I read the results of Dave's bleg for links. One of his new blogrollees is Running At The Mouth, whom I've also blogrolled despite the fact that he's a Domerfan and lives in Columbus to boot. Anyway, while perusing RatM, I find this post from last September about a couple of real Einsteins, one of whom was courteous enough to remove himself from the gene pool. He points to the website of a Baltimore TV station, which has the full story:

Frederick, MD (WJZ) One of two motorcyclists who were doing wheelies and other stunts for a videocamera as they rode half naked along a state highway in Frederick County has been charged with indecent exposure and three traffic violations.

The Sept. 12 stunt ended when Shaun Paul Matlock of Walkersville crashed into a tow truck parked on the side of Route 340.

Monday, police charged the surviving motorcyclist, Brandon Michael Edwards, 21, with reckless driving, negligent driving, and driving with a learner's permit without proper supervision.

. . .

Trooper David Ward said two vehicles were following the group to block traffic from behind, and a third was traveling next to the stunt riders so a passenger could videotape them.

Both men were wearing helmets, shirts and shoes, but neither was wearing pants or underwear, police said. [emphasis added]

Both were doing wheelies when Matlock lost control of his bike.

Naturally, this reminds me of the old joke:

What's the last thing a stupid redneck says before he dies?

"Hey, y'all, watch this!"

[BONUS WTW Stupidity!]

Farther down the page at GR, Dave links to a Kim du Toit post that is a somwhat less fatal example of "HY,WT!"

Below the fold you will find proof that some people are too stupid to live. Let’s start with the premise: "I know! I’m going to shoot a bottle rocket from between my ass-cheeks!"

It's White Trash Wednesday! Take the whole tour:

Another Example Caught In The Wild

You hear the jokes about old fat guys in Speedos, but you don't really think any of them would actually wear one, right?

Yeah, I used to think that, too, until I shot this picture on our third day on the island:

What I want to know is, how could he possibly look in the mirror and say, "Hell, yeah. I'm the man?"

An Example Caught In The Wild

I've been sent several pictures photoshopped to look like the one below, but I'd never seen an actual one until I took this one on vacation (for the record, it's the Citgo station next to the Pacific store on Long Beach Road leading to Oak Island).

The really depressing thing is that I wish gas were only $2.10 here - that's 35 cents less than it actually is right now.

Hey, Kettle! You're Black!

I was in a teleconference this morning that had about two dozen participants from five or six different sites. The guy coordinating the telecon (from one of the other sites) was an Asian-American, and he had a definite accent; in particular, he had the stereotypical problem with 'l' sounds.

I chuckled inwardly about that until I realized something: when I was taking high school Spanish, I couldn't trill my 'r's properly. Sure, I could fake it by making this quasi-French sound in the back of my throat, but any native speaker would instantly peg that as the Spanish version of "can't pronounce 'L'," with the attendant silent (or not-so-silent) derision.

So that was this year's Moment Of Self-Awareness. Man, I hope I don't have another one of those anytime soon. It takes all the fun out of cracking on people.

No Word On Whether The Security Patrol Drove A Pickup With A Gun Rack

Whoops! I forgot today was White Trash Wednesday (that's a known side-effect of having a four-day weekend - my body still thinks it's Monday). I don't have anything ready, but I can talk about this, and I swear it's absolutely true:

On a drive through one of the many wooded areas in the vicinity of Oak Island, we came across a new white fence running along the road. After about a half-mile of this, we saw a gated boulevard entrance with a nice new guard shack. There was a sign identifying the gated community, but I don't remember what it was. Of course, the fence line continued on the other side of the entrance, but within a couple of hundred yards, we could see trailers on the other side. And I don't mean 'nice new manufactured housing that kinda looks like a regular house' trailers; I mean 'Cletus, get off your sister and drive your Uncle Dad to the county agent!' trailers.

A gated trailer park. Only in America.

It's White Trash Wednesday! Take the whole tour:

And Don't Forget To Promote Rob Jackson, Too!

The folks at Rinkworks have a Book-A-Minute service for people who want to read the classics but just don't have the time. Sure, they take some artistic license, but when you're condensing War and Peace down to two sentences, you pretty much have to. They also have sections for SF/Fantasy and Bedtime books, but they don't do technothrillers.

And that's too bad, because I was all ready to submit

------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
                        Any Book featuring Jack Ryan
 
                                by Tom Clancy
 
                       Ultra-Condensed by Chris Carter
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
                                  Jack Ryan
 
     Aw, shucks. I'm just a regular guy with a lot of money and the
     perfect family.
 
                               Catherine Ryan
 
     And my career's incredibly fulfilling.
 
                              The Ryan Children
 
     Look at us! We're incredibly cute!
 
                                   Bad Guy
 
     Here's my Master Plan to bring down the United States and increase
     my standing in the world community...
 
(Begins to EXECUTE Master Plan. It is succeeding. The United States is
CLUELESS.)
 
                                  Jack Ryan
 
     Gosh, can I do this job?
 
(CLUE arrives in Washington via Federal Express.)
 
                       Smart People In The Government
 
     We've figured out what the Master Plan is...
 
                           Various Military Folks
 
     Let's foil the Master Plan...
 
(They do. Lots of things get BLOWN UP; some people get KILLED.)
 
                                   Bad Guy
 
     Curse you, Jack Ryan! Oops, my house just blew up.
 
                                  Jack Ryan
 
     Oh, look--I got promoted. Golly!
 
                                   THE END

Stranded On The Sandbar

In much the same fashion as the Big Four parties here in the 'hood are flower_goddess's birthday, my birthday, Halloween, and Christmas, the Big Four parties at the Secure Undisclosed Location are Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Full Moon Friday, and Labor Day.

We arrived Sunday morning, leading Stiffy in her car via the Guaranteed Unreproducible Route, because she was cleared to be at the SUL but not cleared to know how to get there. We quickly got caught up with the other residents of SUL-ville, where we learned:

1. Kenny's boat is still a sore subject, because even though it's all fixed and running well now, he never got the drydock to own up to any responsibility for the problem. He ended up paying the whole tab himself - and he won't say how much it cost him.

2. Down the lane, Carmine's boat is running splendidly now that he's replaced the ignition system. However, you may recall the pattern where he fixes something, declares victory, uses the boat once, and breaks something else. So far, so good, but we shall see.

3. Some schmuck new to the addition had his boat out way too late and way too drunk the night before, and grounded it on the way back when he missed the channel approach. Since he was only about 40 feet out from the last pier, DA and Skunk-boy (who wisely passed up The Detective's margaritas this time, having learned his lesson last year) offered to toss a rope to him and help pull him off the sandbar. The offer was quite rudely and arrogantly rebuffed, so instead DA and Skunk-boy set up lawn chairs at the end of the channel and made fun of the schmuck as he spent the next half-hour extricating himself.

This is a variant of one of DA's pastimes: since his place is one down from the addition's boat launch, he gets a front-row seat as people try to put their boats in the water. Since most of them only do it once a year (every place in their addition gets their own slip, so they put in in mid May and take out in late September), they don't get a lot of practice. He will cheerfully help you get your boat in the water without breaking anything if you ask, but if you front that you know what you're doing when you in fact do not, it's open season for ridicule, and you're the one in feathers.

He wouldn't own up to that in so many words; he will admit only to wanting to make sure that nobody runs into his deck while putting their boat in the water.

Within the next hour, more day-trippers from the Fort arrived, including The Saint and BB and Mountaineer. Gunner and Cover Girl were already there, Gunner having participated in a shooting match at the nearby state park earlier that day (it occurs to me now that I never did ask him how he did). When we had enough people to load DA and Dimples' pontoon to 150% of rated capacity, we departed for a sandbar about 1/2 mile away around a point.

Just kidding. Actually, DA made two trips. Saint, Gunner, Mountaineer and I made the first run, to set up the floating bar. Unfortunately, the drunken schmuck from the previous night tied up his boat about as well as he drove it in the first place, and it had drifted far enough away from the dock to block the whole channel out. My simple suggestion for a semi-permanent solution - stick it right back on the sandbar he'd grounded it on last night - was overruled (and by 'overruled' I mean 'we couldn't find the keys') and we settled for having Mountaineer jump on board and pull it closer to the dock.

The sandbar where we hang out is only about thirty yards offshore from a pretty nice house whose owner is not too happy that the group from DA's addition tends to set up shop there. Once somebody explained that particular law to him - that he does not, in point of fact, own any part of the lake more than ten feet out from his share of shoreline - he pretty much stopped coming to his lake house altogether. Works for us. Anyway, once we got situated and the floating bar was set up, DA left to get the rest of the group.

When he had been gone long enough to make three round trips, Saint said "You know, DA pulls one trick per year. Maybe today is this year's trick, and he just left us here with one beer apiece while the rest of them drove to the Straits Tavern for the afternoon."

It's a damn shame he said that right after I drained my beer. Part II is here.

Now Why Does This Reunion - Ooh! Shiny!

So I'm getting breakfast this morning when I see this pen. It says "2004 Jacob II & Mary Edelman Reunion / Sabetha, KS". I get to thinking about it while I wait for my toaster strudel to toast (or is it strudel?), and it occurs to me that A) I don't know anybody named Edelman, so where the hell did the pen come from, and B) why isn't it "Jacob I and (spouse) Edelman Reunion?" Was there some kind of falling out between Jacob I and Jacob II? Did Jacob I have other, shall we say, less savory children that Jacob II didn't want at 'his' reunion?

Right about then, the toaster strudel finished strudeling, so the Edelman Mystery will have to wait.

It Depends. Can We Charge Rent?

Recall that Chumley is Rabbit's husband and Choley is their daughter. Like the rest of us, Chumley gets a little goofy when he's on the island, and it was after a particularly goofy incident that this conversation took place:

Rabbit: "You guys want to adopt a kid?"
Us: "Sure; Choley's practically our daughter anyway."
Rabbit: "I was talking about Chumley."

Why I Ain't Like Normal Folks, Reason 32

Because I don't get ice cream headaches; I get ice cream chest pains. I was reminded of this when I was at the pier house last week and I got a Mountain Dew slushie for my son. I overfilled the damn thing, and had to suck down a nontrivial portion of it all at once just to get the lid on, and about ten seconds later I thought I was having a heart attack.

Of course, it was just cold shock to my esophagus, and I didn't help things by immediately taking a slug of beer, thinking that since it was warmer than the slushie, it would help (hint: IT DOESN'T), but still.

Iron Chef: Battle Saury

Theme Ingredient: Pacific Saury
Iron Chef: Sakai
Challenger: Kazumi Nagayama, head chef, Shochiku, Hongo, Tokyo
Remarks: This is a different Battle Saury than the one that airs on Food Network on July 4 and 5. These comments refer to the battle that aired on Food Network on November 26, 2000.

Shochiku is a restaurant in the Hongo neighborhood of Tokyo. It is a traditional elite supper club where admittance had until recently been restricted only to members. It is hideously expensive and caters to the elite of Tokyo society; it's sometimes called "The Kitchen Of Tokyo University" due to its proximity to that institution. Lately, Shochiku has been feeling the pinch of a downturn in the Japanese economy; in response, it has opened its doors to the public and retooled its menu a bit, aiming for the female market.

Kazumi Nagayama is head chef there, and he challenged IC French Hiroyuki Sakai (fresh off his defeat at the hands of Ron Siegel in Battle Lobster). The theme ingredient was Pacific saury (also called sanma), a blue fish similar to the sardine. This was a mixed blessing for Sakai: saury generally isn't used in French cuisine, but he was able to make sardine-style dishes using it. However, this wasn't much of an advantage for the challenger, either; saury isn't often served in high class restaurants. The saury was harvested from the waters off Sanriku, and they're a popular autumn dish since they're fattening up for the winter then.

The guest commentators were singer Johji Yamamoto (previous appearance 1 1/2 years before in Battle Bell Pepper), whose single "I'm Your Man" was on the charts at the time, and actress Kuniko Asagi (previous appearance: Battle Unisex Salmon). The other judges were Lower House member Shinichiro Kurimoto and spiritual consultant Kazuko Hosoki.

Nagayama presented five dishes:

1. Saury hors d'oeuvre. Saury marinated in the Russian style and stuffed in 'a citrus fruit' (orange or tangerine, I think). French mustard and caviar are mixed with nuts and served on a 'crispy saury cracker.' Salt-grilled saury was also served Peking duck-style. All were served with sake and persimmon cocktail and beefsteak tomato leaf sake. Kurimoto liked the canape (I think he meant the Peking duck-style dish), especially the cashews. Hosoki liked the use of miso, and Asagi liked the different taste experiences.
2. Saury ball soup. Pounded glutenous rice with grated daikon radish helped mask the fishy smell and soften the taste. Yamamoto wished he could have this dish after a night of drinking to settle his stomach. Hosoki didn't like it so much, saying it was too tough.
3. Grilled saury on ice. Served with a citrus juice-soy sauce dip.
4. Smoked saury. Saury was combined with other 'autumn delicacies' and smoked in Japanese maple leaves, persimmon leaves, gingko leaves, and sugar. Kurimoto liked the scent of pine leaves but was turned off by the fishy scent.
5. Stewed tomato and saury. Celery was used here to suppress the fishy smell. Don't ask me how. Foie gras was added because, well, it's Iron Chef! Kurimoto didn't like the tomato base, and Hosoki thought the dishes were a bit too traditional in general.

Sakai countered with four:

1. Smoked saury on buckwheat crepe. The saury was smoked in apple chips and sugar, prompting Asagi to ask "What kind of aroma would apple chips give?" It was served with a sauce made from the innards of the fish, with sour cream and caviar. Also served with soup. Kurimoto called the addition of caviar "perfect," Asagi loved the innards sauce, Hosoki called it "transformed into art." Gee, do you think they liked it?
2. Saury carpaccio. The saury was marinated in vinegar and served raw. It also came with a persimmon sauce that also had kidney beans, udo leaves, foie gras, sun-dried tomato leaves and peanut butter (!). Asagi didn't like the peanut butter at all; Yamamoto loved it.
3. Roast saury, Provence style. Frying the fish before roasting highlighted the taste and added a crispy texture. He roasted the saury sectioned but not gutted; he also originally had onions on top but discarded them when they ended up overdone in the oven. Kurimoto liked the vegetables but didn't like the overall feel of the dish. Hosoki disagreed.
4. Saury red wine stew. This dish exploited the slight fishy smell rather than trying to hide it. A whole bottle of red wine was cooked down to make the base.

Yamamoto pronounced afterwards that "I'll never be able to eat my wife's saury dishes again." The verdict was Sakai 4-0 and 78-69: Kurimoto 19-17, Asagi and Yamamoto both 20-18, and Hosoki 19-16.

Scientologist, Audit Thyself

So Tom Cruise, Scientologist, doesn't think Brooke Shields should have taken Paxil and seen a psychiatrist:

NBC 'TODAY SHOW' host Matt Lauer was lectured by star Tom Cruise on the dangers of psychiatry and antidepressant during a promotional interview for WAR OF THE WORLDS.

The exchange aired Friday morning.

LAUER: TOM CRUISE CREATED A FIRESTORM WHEN HE CRITICIZED BROOKE SHIELDS FOR REVEALING THAT SHE WENT INTO THERAPY AND TOOK ANTIDEPRESSANTS TO DEAL WITH HER POST PARTUM DEPRESSION. AS A SCIENTOLGIST, HE DOESN'T BELIEVE IN PSYCHIATRIC MEDICINE. I ASKED HIM ABOUT HIS COMMENTS.

CRUISE: i've never agreed with psychiatry, ever. Before I was a Scientologist I never agreed with psychiatry. and when i started studying the history of psychiatry, i understood more and more why i didn't believe in psychology.

//And as far as the Brooke Shields thing is, look. You gotta understand, I really care about Brooke Shields. I-- I think here's a-- a-- a wonderful and talented woman. And-- I wanna see her do well. And I know that-- psychiatry is-- is a pseudo science.

MATT LAUER: But-- but Tom, if she said that this particular thing helped her feel better, whether it was the antidepressant or going to a counselor or psychiatrist, isn't that enough? //

TOM CRUISE: Matt, you have to understand this. Here we are today where I talk out against drugs and psychiatric abuses of electric shocking people (PH), okay, against their will, of drugging children with them not knowing the effects of these drugs. Do you know what Aderol (PH) is? Do you know Ritalin? Do you know now that Ritalin is a street drug? Do you understand that?

etc., etc., you've already heard the story by now if you care about it at all.

So Cruise catches some flak for this, but it doesn't seem to bother him, as my transcript of this bit of audio that ran on Bob & Tom yesterday (about 13:00 into the second hour; I don't know where they got the audio from) illustrates:

Cruise: "There's really nothing to say, outside of I just don't pay attention to it. I do my work, I live my life, you know, it's never affected anything before, it doesn't matter. It's, what do I do? I make my movies, and I live my life, in the best way that I feel that I can, and, y'know, I can't control what people are going to say or do, they're going to say and do what they want, and, and the thing is it's not ever going to change how I live my life."

So let me get this straight. Tom, you don't care what other people say, and you're not going to change your life based on it. Isn't it more than a little arrogant to think that Brooke Shields will change how she lives her life based on what you say?

Celebrities - is there anybody who can't be helped by their advice?