Just a quickie...
Been here in Seattle for a few days so far, but can't wait to get back to my own computer,with faster service.

The kids here are using wireless routers, and mooching off of their unsuspecting neighbors' unsecured wireless.
Too cool, huh?
Saves money til they get a little more settled in, but it makes for a slow go in the mean time.

RW: as for Weed... it is still the best part of the whole drive, that stretch from Weed to Medford. I recommend it to anybody with an itch for cool scenery.

I'll be juicing when I get back. Maybe Friday.

On The Road Again

I'll be hitting the trail in the morning, taking the northbound route (my favorite). Destination: Seattle.

Going up to check on my daughter, who moved there a few weeks ago to begin a new life. That, and she's been calling every other day wanting to know how soon I can visit. I would prefer to hit the passes before winter's snow sets in, so the present seems to be the wiser choice.
(Now, watch it snow or ice or something as soon as I pass through Redding.)

Plans are to be back in SoCal sometime next Friday. In the interim, you'll have to settle with whatever posts Tully can throw against the wall.

Sometimes It Works

Last Sunday, the household was gathered around the television watching The Chicago Bears beat the cowboys.
After that was over, Wife wants to watch the Chargers game, but the Chargers were blacked out, so I tried to find it on NFL Sunday Ticket, which I subscribe to, and it was blacked out there,too.

Sunday Ticket advertises "See Every Game" and "No Blackouts", so I called DishNetwork to complain and the gal on the other end offers her apologies, and cant explain why the Chargers were blacked out. Politely, I demanded a refund for that day, since I wasn't getting the day's service, and hopefully they will do better next time.

She's all good with that demand, and proceeds to credit my account for $15, at $5 a month for the next three months.
Oh no, I countered. I paid upfront for service and I wasn't going to accept a refund on time. I want it all, immediately.
Or, they could provide the service first, and I would agree to pay for it three months later. Fair is fair.

She wasn't authorized to do that and forwarded me to another department that had more options/authority at their disposal.

Once again, I stated the case, and requested either they enter the code and turn on my game, or accept any future payments over a three-month delay after service was satisfactorily rendered.

She countered me, explaining the presence of small print along the bottom of my screen during a Sunday Ticket ad, declaring that local blackouts do still apply.
Small print?
I called bullshit.
The voice over exclaims "SEE EVERY GAME!" and "NO BLACKOUTS!" and never mentions exceptions to these claims or references to difficult to read small print briefly flashed along the bottom of my screen.
I accused them of fraud and unfair practices, along with an explanation that the San Diego Chargers are not my local broadcast market in the first place and that I live in the Los Angeles broadcast market, where the Raiders actually played and the Chargers never have, but I can still receive the Raiders game despite their black out.

When it was all over, I walked away with a $120 credit to my account, representing a 40% reduction in the subscription price of the Sunday Ticket. Not a bad score at all, if you ask me.

Moral: Bitch. It might get you somewhere.

The Story (Finale)

To finish this tale of eventual woe...

I hit up the shelter first thing after work on Monday. The Wife and I had been texting ideas for naming them, so I was in excite mode.

I enter the cattery, say 'Hi' to a couple of gals who recognised me from Saturday, but something wasn't right. Seems they aren't much in the mood for meeting my gaze this time. I didn't see Shelly, but another gal came bouncing up, asking me if I was going to pick a new kitty. Huh?
No, I'm here for those two deaf ones.
Uh,oh...Ummm...
We had some problems this morning, and... uh....

Evidently, several of the cats had contracted what they said was an upper respiratory infection and had been moved to isolation. According to them, it was highly contagious. It was explained that in "ISO" they would receive meds, and then hopefully be released for adoption after about ten days of observation.

So, I didn't get my cats, but was told I can call back in a couple of days to check up on them. (OR, pick something else from the cattery, they stressed. I didn't like the sound of that). Before I left, I made damn sure my boys were indeed in ISO and not 'some other' place. They were.

Still not sure if they were feeding me Happy Talk or not, and them unwilling (or unable) to grant me any additional details, I left, making it very clear to all involved that they would be hearing from me again.
I wasn't so cheerful anymore, and they knew it.

On Wednesday, I called.
The news was not good.

In so many round about words, I was informed that my boys would not be available for adoption ever again.
Still, the chicken shit bitch didn't have the guts to be straight up with me. But I knew.

On Saturday, the Wife got tired of seeing me mope around and ordered me back to the shelter. Maybe somebody else might touch my spirit like those did. (She doesn't get it, but she meant well.) While I was there, Shelly approached, offering her apologies. After some conversation, she offered to investigate the details of the matter and get back to me privately. (Just tween her and I, because she wasn't suppose to do this.)
She also offered that there may be a slim, very slim, chance that they may have been placed with a foster to care for them as it happens on rare occassions.

She called me later that day. According to the files, the boys were too sick to be saved with the shelter's resources. No, it wasn't a cull. And they weren't alone. In total, ten cats went down from the outbreak. She explained that they were probably already infected when I had been there, with the syptoms not showing up til Monday morning.
Quite possibly, bringing them home with me would have infected Maimie, my other cat. Maybe, it's just better that I did wait that extra day.

But still, I can't help the feeling that, with my procrastination, I have failed them.
And it hurts.

The Story cont...

"What do you think, Honey?"
"I think they're cool, Baby. I want them."
"All three?"
"Three's a bit much, I know..."
(yes, this is how the Wife and I really do talk to each other , 'Baby' this 'Honey' that.)

We wander around a bit more and get approached by Shelter gal #1. Turns out her name is Shelly. Shelly talks to us about deaf cats, and how they are so hard to place. She tells us... everybody walks through that door, sees the three brothers, sees the "DEAF" warning and moves on.
It happens every time. Nobody wants a Special Needs pet.
I tell her there no Special Needs involved. These are cats like any other. They need nothing special, just a little consideration.
She agrees, and goes on about other folks are afraid they got health defects and whatever, but such is just not the case.
Wife tells her those are the ones that I picked, if only there wasn't three of them. Then she turns to me and says, "Maybe they'll split them up, and we take the two deaf ones?"
"Baby, you sure? If you ain't cool with it, I won't do it."
"Yeah, Honey. It's a special case, and I saw how your eyes light up when you held them. "
Shelly gets all excited now... "Really? Oh my, this is a first. I saw how you took to each other. Nobody else could do that with them."
But what about the third?
No problem. A pure white cat gets adopted quick. Shelly says she can place him. It was the two blue-eyeds that will end up, well, you know... It happens all the time (about once every month or two, according to her.)

This was late Saturday afternoon, and the shelter was closing for the weekend, so I told Shelly we would talk it over some more, and to look for me Monday.
I had to make sure that the Wife was totally on board, and wanted to give her time to dream up any reservations.
Instead, she got more with it and on Sunday I was busy setting up the new kids' transition room, getting more excited with every passing minute...

A lot of people, stupid people that is, do not take the time to transition a cat to new surroundings and smells. They usually end up with a frightened, confused and traumatised beast who hides in corners and closets for several days growling and hissing, pissing on everything... and they think the cat is defective. Kinda like this uninformed couple did.

The Story

"Be careful. Them're scared and not much friendly... been growlin and hissin at all day... everything..."

For some reason, in a room full of caged cats, these caught my eye. I gazed at the three white angels huddled together in the corner of the cage.
They had an aura about them. Something that I can't put my finger on, 'cept to say some kinda of 'it', and they had 'It'.

"They come in together, littermates. A girl and her mother couldn't keep 'em anymore. They were cryin and sobbing. So sad."
"That sucks."
"Two of 'em are deaf. See the blue eyes?" **

I was reading the info tags on the cage: Eight months old... kept indoors...good with other cats... box trained... uses scratching post, etc. All the positives I was looking for. And all toms that needed de-nutting. And in highlighted letters: DEAF.

But I was looking for one cat, not a whole family at this time.
I moved on.

Row upon row, but I ended up back in front of the three brothers. I clucked at them a few times, and the green-eyed looked up and tilted his head, then ears-pinned and straight at me... hisssss.

"I told ya."

Blowing into his face, I clucked again. Looking away, he stopped hissing, eyes down.
"He's fine. Just scared is all."
I walked away to browse some more, but like a boomerang I was soon back at the brothers again.
Turning to The Wife, "These boys are cool."

Another shelter gal walks in "They're deaf!"
"Yeah, I know..."
"They been hissin all day..."
"Open the cage."
"But they been hissi-"
"I got that. Please... open the cage."
"Did you fill out an application? You need to fill one before you can-"
Turning to a third gal, "Just open it."
Wife whispers to her "It's Ok, Honey. He knows ..."

Gal #3 unlocks the cage, I stick my hand slowly, palm up and low to the floor.
More hissing from the two blue-eyedes, but this time the green-eye just scrunches low in retreat.

Ha! not so tough now.

Softly rubbing the top of his head, and then behind his ears, working my way down the back of his neck. Gently but firmly, I grab his scruff and lift him out...

He's mine, and curls up into the crook of my arm for more rubbing and petting.
He's still not so sure about the situation, but I sense his muscles relaxing.
I flip him over, exposing his tummy with his shoulders and head supported in my hand. After a few, he turns to jelly as his head flops backward. He's purring.
I win.
Shelter Gal #1 is beaming.
"He likes you."
"Just gotta know how to deal with 'em is all."
Quickly, I conquer the two blue-eyedes' as well.

"Them're deaf!" announces a #4 gal, who just walked into the room. I think she was Supervisor Boss Bitch, or something like that. She had an attitude, and it made the kitty in my hand nervous.
"But I ain't. How many more times ya'll gonna tell me that."
"It's just that some people-"
"I'm not some people... A little understanding , they'll be fine."





**Deafness occurs in cats when the same genes that combine for white fur and blue eyes also equal deafness. (Cats with only one blue eye are deaf on just that side.) This is the case for about 90% born with this genetic combination. It's not a common phenomenon, but it happens often enough to make cat fetishists well aware of it.

Heartsick and angry right now.
Will fill you in when I'm able, which probably won't happen til after I stop crying and cursing peoples' mothers.

A Practical Application

I've griped at you previously about the horrendous conditions one must endure when flying commercially: bitchy flight staff, uppity counter help, intimate body searches, being squeezed into an aircraft like Jews headed to Auschwitz...
It's gone too far, or so I thought.

Now, some genius has come up with this nifty idea:

The new “saddle” seat, to be unveiled at a conference this
week, increases the number of seats an airline can have in its economy class.

The design, named the “SkyRider”, allows just 23 inches of legroom,
which is about seven inches less than the average seat's space of 30 inches.

Shaped similar to a horse saddle, passengers sit at an angle, with their
weight taken on by their legs. It allows seats to be overlapped.

It looks like this:

But don't let the picture fool you. Odds are you wont be saddled next to the nice smelling babe with the narrow hips and skinny thighs.


Nah!
You'll be strapped-in real tight next the 350lb sweaty dude whose deodorant failed sometime last week, because that's just how this shit works.

Well, dammit, clearly these fuckers have no limits, and with it being huntin' season , understandably my mind is obsessed with all that goes with, so I'm gonna go all crazy-like and propose and idea of my own...

Presently, I'm working on a new seating design that is sure to revolutionise air travel worldwide.



First, we take the concept of the standard deer cooler...






And then we blend it with The Hunter Safety System, as you may recall, that I had endorsed just two brief years ago.

And I know this vest thingy works, having allowed myself some time to hang from it (for a few minutes), and it wasn't any less comfortable than your typical butt sweat-soaked airline seat.

Add, a short bungee cord near the top to take some of the jolt out of air turbulence...

And then charge tickets by the pound: those who require more airspace would pay more, obviously.

This would also solve the 'Fat Sweaty Guy Shoe-Horned Next To You' problem. His excess will never again be oozing over into the space you paid for.
And you know what else? He just may decide that flying isn't economical for him anymore since he won't have the skinny guy next to him subsidising his fare...

Which would be increase your chances of hanging out with that sweet-smelling babe for a couple of hours without first having to pony up for drinks.

Win,Win?

Lifestyle Choices

I've been going through this process for a time, nearing on a couple of years already. I'm thinking that now is the moment for me to grow. To open my arms and expand the heart and the mind, to find the will to make it happen...

I know that I want to. I've wanted to for some time but have been hesitant.
Bringing someone new into my life doesn't have to be the diminishing of another's memory. That much is easy to grasp.
Instead, my thoughts rest more with the reality that the new family member won't be like the dearly departed, which is to be expected as individuals do behave individually, and if I can accept that reality in practice as well as in thought.

The Wife, in her goodness, has been supportive of my decision, whatever the decision will be.

I'm thinking that I've already made it, but I'll sit on this for a few more days, just to be sure, while my angel keeps whispering in my ear.

Let The Games Begin

Man, I've been waiting seven months for this.

Considering the Saints' D was all over Favre like stink on shit to end the Vikings' season last year, the big question might be the Vikings' ability to keep the old guy safe this time around.
Gotta hand it to the Geezer, though. I thought he was done after his last beating and certainly didn't expect him to return for another.

Will the Saints attempt to brutalize Favre as badly without having as much on the line this time?
Will the Vikings try to pay it back against Drew Brees?

We will soon find out.

I'm giving the edge to the Vikings. They got the most to prove while the Saints already have The Ring.

Running It Back?

By now we've all heard the saga of Reggie Bush and the 'improprieties' he was engaged in at USC.
Yeah, I know: The Rules Are The Rules.
Bush is accused of bringing shame to himself and his school, and the latest news is that the Heisman people are considering taking his trophy away from him.

This is where I draw the line.
Reggie Bush would have won that trophy regardless of what extra gravy he was able to bring to his family while playing as an 'amateur'.
And can you really blame a young man, not much more than a kid really, for taking advantage of a situation while the taking was good?

What needs to be dealt with is the mirage of young athletes being presented as amateurs while they receive hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of compensation over their tenure in the form of a free education, food, lodging, publicity, chicks... They're getting paid, and paid plenty, at some of these elite schools, like USC.

The other end of the bargain is that the school gets to market them and make millions more.
So why is it OK for Pete Carroll to earn millions of dollars off of the likes of Reggie Bush, while denying Reggie's family a little benefit,too?
Where is the call for Pete Carroll to payback his earnings for that season?
Anyone? I'm sure he knew why he didn't know anything, if you get what I'm saying...

Reggie Bush just got a better contract, is all. He was able to avoid the maximum wage level set by the NCAA, and learned plenty about life at the next level. I'd say he got an education in sports marketing. It doesn't need to be a degree program to be education, if you ask me.

And now they want to take away his trophy. How about requiring Reggie to return to USC and run all those yards backwards,too.

Hot Sauce Correction Part Two

Tully here,

As the debate on hot sauce progresses, it becomes increasingly apparent to me that those who like tongue-burning habanero sauces are of a different breed than those of us who enjoy a hot sauce with flavor. The latter are sensible sensualists, the former sado-masochistic. It brings to mind, in fact, the perverse pleasure a Nazi would take in torturing a fellow human being--taking pleasure in those sharp pangs of pain. Let's just say it: Hitler was a habanero-eater. Just like Bike Bubba and all the rest of you sickos!

Machete

Ok, not quite sure how to proceed with this one. There's going to be a lot of talk about it, so no point in my going over the story line.
First off, it's a spoof. Everything is caricatured and exaggerated so far beyond reality, playing upon every stereotype, there is something in here to give pause to just about everyone.
I'll just warn you: if you see yourself here,regardless of what side you may be on, you may want to tone your shit down a little.
Gratuitous violence. Gratuitous nudity. Wild-eyed Rednecks. Mexicans on cultural steroids. Does it sound fun so far? It is. I haven't laughed this hard in a movie since I don't know when.

Pleasant surprise: Robert Deniro in a role I've never seen him in before: as a race-baiting Texas senator who's made the immigration issue his career's focus. He pulls it off so well that I didn't recognize him at first.

The bad: Steven Seagal, who plays a Mexican drug lord so poorly he can't even keep the accent up. He deserves to never work again.

The message, as I see it, is how both sides of the border issue are being manipulated by the powerful people on both sides of the border for their own gain. There's probably more truth here than people realize if they bother to see it.

It's a must movie. I think you'll love it.

Self-Godwining

From wiki:

Godwin's law (also known as Godwin's Rule of Nazi Analogies or Godwin's law of Nazi Analogies) is a humorous observation made by Mike Godwin in 1989 which has become an Internet adage. It states: "As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches." In other words, Godwin put forth the sarcastic observation that, given enough time, all discussions—regardless of topic or scope—inevitably wind up being about Hitler and the Nazis.

Godwin's law is often cited in online discussions as a deterrent against the use of arguments in the widespread reductio ad Hitlerum form. The rule does not make any statement about whether any particular reference or comparison to Adolf Hitler or the Nazis might be appropriate, but only asserts that the likelihood of such a reference or comparison arising increases as the discussion progresses. It is precisely because such a comparison or reference may sometimes be appropriate, Godwin has argued[4] that overuse of Nazi and Hitler comparisons should be avoided, because it robs the valid comparisons of their impact.

And this:

There are many corollaries to Godwin's law, some considered more canonical (by being adopted by Godwin himself) than others. For example, there is a tradition in many newsgroups and other Internet discussion forums that once such a comparison is made, the thread is finished and whoever mentioned the Nazis has automatically "lost" whatever debate was in progress. This principle itself is frequently referred to as Godwin's law.

Emphasis mine.

In my last discussion, I intentionally self-Godwined.
Trying to compare an illegal alien dishwasher to a convicted murderer, and then using this comparison to justifying taking from his innocent children the only grace the roulette wheel of life may ever offer them, was just more than this two-fingered typist (and mediocre intellect) serving as your host was able to deal with while keeping his honor intact.
Rather than continue, I turned the knife and thrust backward.
You win.

It was harakiri, not name calling.
I was not, and am not, calling anybody here a Nazi.