nobody asked…

It will never be completely finished, the War Between the States. Whether it is North vs. South, East vs. West, Red vs. Blue, Small vs. Big, or Urban vs. Rural, there will always be factions that are at odds with each other. Fortunately, it is no longer about slavery. It is sometimes about political one-up-man-ship or cultural supremacy, other times resource control, and sometimes it’s all about football dominance. Thankfully we no longer try to settle our internal disputes with sabers, guns and bombs and bloodshed. Perhaps we did learn a lesson from the tragic slaughter of 618,000 Americans by Americans during our Civil War.

The diversity of opinions and issues that causes the rifts in our daily lives are also the very attributes that have made us strong and given us the resolve as Americans to unite in the face of adversity, to innovate and achieve, and, in the past, to take a position of leadership among nations.

Here in the 21st Century, most of us know about the Civil War, its causes, factions, and the ultimate end and result. Many might also be able to identify the warring period of 1861 to 1865. A few might know that the definitive end of the war was when General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox Court House, Virginia, on April 9, 1865. Within days after that, word had spread and other Confederate Generals had surrendered their troops to their Yankee counterparts, surrender papers were signed, and the war ended. But not the fighting…

There’s always somebody who doesn’t get the word. Oh, was I supposed to bring potato salad? Or, I drove 30 miles through a blinding ice storm. Why didn’t someone tell me the game had been postponed? The end of the Civil War was no different.

The last major land battle of the Civil War took place on May 12-13, 1865, on the banks of the Rio Grande River near Brownsville, Texas. So a full month after Lee surrendered, the Confederate forces were victorious in the last clash of the war. Neither side was aware that the war had officially been declared over. But, wait, there’s more…

The last Confederate naval force to surrender was the CSS Shenandoah on November 4, 1865, in Liverpool, England. That’s almost seven months after collapse of the Confederacy. What were those guys doing over there anyway? Must have had a deep craving for fish and chips and a fresh pint or three. Some people never get the word…

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• If global warming is a myth, then why hasn’t it snowed enough to talk about in years, and why are the summers so much hotter and drier here than in years past?
• You really begin to suspect drought when the weeds start dying.
• Convicted criminals, trashy thugs like Michael Vick, should never again be allowed the opportunity to play professional sports and make more millions. Sorry, no compassion here for any scumbag that willingly kills dogs.
• Further to the above point, those who argue that killing dogs for the hell of it is no different than hunting and killing a deer obviously have never thought it through, and probably do not have the mental capacity to do so.

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This was just too good to not steal from TechRepublic blogger Jay Garmon. Billy Gates and the Redmond Banditos won’t like this a bit. They’ll probably go buy up the FEATURE vanity plate rights in the other 49 states.

[UPDATE: 08/25/07. For the non-techies among you, an apology and an explanation: It seems every time Microsoft comes out with a new product, update, or service pack, there are things that do not work as expected. These are the software potholes we mere mortals call bugs, but Microsoft claims that oh, no, they are features… Yeah, right…]

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transmogrification
noun, the act of changing into a different form or appearance (especially a fantastic or grotesque one)

Try slipping that one into a casual conversation with friends and watch them scatter…

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Millions long for immortality who don’t know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon. — Susan Ertz

Found at Kathryn’s A Mindful Life blog, where we’re keeping watch for her to bring forth a new little person into this life any day now.

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Being of hollow mind, shallow soul, and lazy arse, I choose to repeat my wrap-up comment on the previous post for those who may be lazy enough (like me) to backtrack and read it. ‘Twould be a pity for my patrons to miss the opportunity to bask in these glorious words. Did I mention that I am lazy? So without further ado, here are my responses to the silly pizza quiz…

A couple of you were quite close with your guesses, which means my disguise and cover-up need work… So here we go point-by-point:

Actually have relatively small appetite and have never complained about portion sizes one way or another. However, I do think it ridiculous that most restaurants these days give you more than a family of four can or should eat.

Picky pizza eater? No. I know what I like and prefer, but will eat damn near any kind of pizza. When I lived in Iowa I even tried the sauerkraut and Canadian bacon pizza from that strange uppa mid-west chain… what was the name… Happy Joe’s? Or something like that. I did balk at the PBJ pizza…

NE U.S.? Depends on how far north and how far east and the time of year.

Traditional and well-crafted. Check. But I also like so-called “gourmet” food from time to time.

Dependable and loyal are my middle names. Conservative? Definitely on some things, absolutely not on others.

Unadventurous and boring are my middle names. I do vacation at home.

Geek is my middle name. But I don’t eat at computer. I have serviced too many that had soup or grape soda dumped on keyboard or globs of ketchup dried on the mouse. I drink coffee, water, tea, or adult beverages (when done with work) and may eat something clean. Like M&Ms.

So, there you have it. And oh, while I was doing this, a new comment came in from Gerry Rosser, to whom I say: Anyone who reads this blog is intelligent enough to know that those tests are silly, stupid, ridiculous wastes of time. And occasionally will make for some humorous blog fodder. Sometimes one will bring a smile to my face. And I need to smile occasionally. So, Gerry, please lighten up a bit…

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I stumbled over this at both Kay’s and Tamarika’s. It is amazing how many of these silly little tests there are out there. Some are spot on, while others miss by a country mile. Same with the findings spelled out below — some are me, some are not me. Any guesses about which is which?

What Your Pizza Reveals

You have a hearty appetite. You are likely to complain if a restaurant has small portions.You are a very picky pizza eater. Not any pizza will do. You fit in best in the Northeast part of the US. You like food that’s traditional and well crafted. You aren’t impressed with “gourmet” foods. You are dependable, loyal, and conservative with your choices. You are unadventurous and boring. You should consider staying home when taking a vacation. The stereotype that best fits you is geek. You’re the type most likely to order pizza to avoid leaving your computer.

What Does Your Pizza Say About You?

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H/T Crooks and Liars August 13, 2007
. When the mind’s eye rests on objects illuminated by truth and reality, it understands and comprehends them, and functions intelligently; but when it turns to the twilight world of change and decay, it can only form opinions, its vision is confused and its beliefs shifting, and it seems to lack intelligence. — Plato, Republic

 

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Growing up in the late ’50s and ’60s in rural West Tennessee, kids rushed home from school to watch the Cousin Tuny Show that aired on WDXI-TV Channel 7, from Jackson, West Tennessee’s first CBS affiliate. Cousin Tuny was a character that looked like a cross of Minnie Pearl and a crazed escapee from Western State Asylum. She hosted groups of children on the show, teaching valuable lessons and values. Parents, churches, and schools could schedule to take their young ‘uns to appear on Cousin Tuny, and for those small tykes it was a thrill like no other.

My little brother was one of those lucky kiddos who had the opportunity to be on the Cousin Tuny Show. As she made the rounds of the kids sitting around her on stage, she came to him and asked, “What is your name, young man?” Read more

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This sunny Sunday morning I am niether vertical nor horizontal, but somewhat slantindicular. The last two days of fast-paced, heavy-duty work have taken a toll on mind and body. And, there is more to come. So I gave the finger to Morpheus and slept in (6:00 AM instead of the usual 5:00 AM), and have been sitting here for a couple of hours now, sipping coffee and staring at the screen, wondering who I am, and catching up on the mystical, intellectual spewings displayed on your pages. I thank all of you for your kind comments during my incarceration and for your continued donation of alms for my early release.

In the course of browsing and reading, I started itching (no not that old infection you’re undoubtedly thinking of) to scratch something in the sand to let you know I’m still alive. Alas, my mind is truly tabula rasa, even after several cups of the hot dark nectar and a stack of Roomie’s banana pancakes.

While visiting with Liz and observing her performing sensual acts with samphire, I followed a link to Clare, one of her commenters I had not seen before, discovered her struggle with writer’s block and this jewel from one of my favorite baudy barons of brambly banter:

I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again. — Oscar Wilde

I yield to the young lady from the UK and the gentleman from Ireland, and accept my mindless churning as a temporary condition that shall subside with proper application of rest, good food, and a nice wine or three.

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Busy week, this. Got a big contract. Working days and nights. Double shift whups me arse. Tired, so very tired. Hot, so bloody hot. Be back soon. Don’t give up on me. Sip a cold one in my name…

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I was raised to always respect my elders. But it keeps getting harder and harder to find one. — Unknown

[Hat tip to my friend SF]

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I first stumbled across this over at Nashville Is Talking, and found it so compelling I just had to share with my audience — both of you. The video is brief and revealing, with key points summarized below.

Under Bush’s leadership as President:

• Over 5 million Americans have fallen into poverty
• Nearly 7 million Americans have lost their health insurance
• Median household income has gone down by nearly $1300
• 3 million manufacturing jobs have been lost
• 3 million American workers have lost their pensions
• Home foreclosures are now the highest on record
• The rate of personal savings is now below zero — first time since the Great Depression
• Earnings of college graduates has gone down 5%
• Entry level wages for highschool grads have fallen by over 3%
• Wages are now at their lowest share of GDP since 1929
• The growing gap between the rich and poor in American is the widest in the industrialized world

Thank you Mr. President, for educating us on the real advantages of being crooked enough to become filthy rich so that we too can enjoy multi-million dollar tax-free incomes. Following the fine examples set by your closest desciples, while sipping cool drinks at one of several of our favorite country clubs, we will snub our noses at those poor grimy bastards down in the trenches running what’s left of our country’s productive capacity, before that too gets shipped off to China. Just as you have… I am so excited at the prospect of becoming one of the elite…

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My parents were firmly against having pets. No matter the depth of logic that our arguments held, my brother and I were always denied a child’s basic Constitutional right to have a dog. Mama always had the last word in such discussions with, “And besides all that, I don’t have time to feed and take care of a dog, and I know you wouldn’t.” Never got my pony either, but that’s a horse of a different color…

On becoming a father, I wanted to make sure that my kids had every possible experience and every affordable advantage, to help them become well rounded persons with solid values. So when my daughter was a toddler, I decided she should have a puppy that would grow up with her.

A neighbor’s beagle had been attacked and raped by another neighbor’s dog, becoming quite pregnant in the process. They were never sure, but the rambunctious miniature schnauzer a couple of doors up the street was the number one suspect. He frequently ran loose and would hump anything that would stay still for a few seconds. A foot at the end of a dangling crossed leg, a foot stool or hassock, a basketball. Oh, and don’t leave your freshly plugged watermelon on the ground.

A few days after the pups arrived we went and took a look. My daughter immediately fell in love with one of them, the one that came to her and suckled her little fingers. He was a cute little thing, this lovable product of a neighborhood indiscretion. We agreed to take him as soon as they were ready to wean. In the meantime, laws were laid down and imprinted into my brain — NO dog in the house. I dutifully built a pen out on the shady side of the house and started acquiring canine educational materials such as a rubber ball with a bell in it, rawhide bones, water and food bowls, and of course the obligatory stack of newspapers. Actually, having never had a dog, I had no frigging clue what I was doing. And I did it with passion and purpose. Read more

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