The markets have been open for merely 17 minutes, and already my net worth has plunged by $117.59. There go my life necessities such as ammunition, nicotine, and Twinkies. Only a half-quart of Jim Beam and a 33-ounce can of Folgers stand between me and utter destitution.
It's all because at 0001 tomorrow the United States becomes an autopsy photo. Without a supply of Federal Reserve Cartoons, my president will no longer have the means to sustain my happiness. Puppies will die, the Washington Monument will be locked up, and all the pretty ballerinas financed by the National Endowment for the Arts will fall prone, to dance no more.
Dang that mean old George Bush, anyway.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 28, 2013
Waiting for the varnish to dry
Turning rough oak planks into an acceptable floor has its interesting challenges. They end about the time your patience with sanding exhausts itself -- or when you get tired of blowing through sanding belts at two bucks a crack. But the project really loses all charm after the first coat of fake varnish ("polyurethane," which I believe is Latin for "the product of many urethrae").
The instructions are clear: Wait six hours, then recoat. Then wait six more hours and recoat, a step I ignored. Then wait 24 hours , at which point the floor is ready for "light use." Try explaining "light use" to a frisky lab bitch. She won't get it, so get her out of town.
What I understand is these days called a "bio-break" became necessary en route. We took it down a long lane to nowhere, amidst the autumn brome, hard by the handsome grain which will soon -- by order of the commissars in Washington -- be distilled into motor fuel as a sound and healthy alternative to sour mash bourbon and prime beef.
En route where?
Ingham Lake, about 40 miles distant, a quiet little water said to harbor lunker northerns. You couldn't prove it by my catch, one runt bullhead, released. New Dog Libby seemed to enjoy things, however, specially steel-eyed, tail-up stalking.
The prey:
"I love it when my human spills cheese curls. Also when he understands that even spent pyrotechnics have their uses."
And that is how you spend 36 hours waiting for your varnish to dry.
The instructions are clear: Wait six hours, then recoat. Then wait six more hours and recoat, a step I ignored. Then wait 24 hours , at which point the floor is ready for "light use." Try explaining "light use" to a frisky lab bitch. She won't get it, so get her out of town.
What I understand is these days called a "bio-break" became necessary en route. We took it down a long lane to nowhere, amidst the autumn brome, hard by the handsome grain which will soon -- by order of the commissars in Washington -- be distilled into motor fuel as a sound and healthy alternative to sour mash bourbon and prime beef.
En route where?
Ingham Lake, about 40 miles distant, a quiet little water said to harbor lunker northerns. You couldn't prove it by my catch, one runt bullhead, released. New Dog Libby seemed to enjoy things, however, specially steel-eyed, tail-up stalking.
The prey:
"I love it when my human spills cheese curls. Also when he understands that even spent pyrotechnics have their uses."
And that is how you spend 36 hours waiting for your varnish to dry.
Sep 25, 2013
A tough way to get flush
A reporter with even a few years in the racket thinks he's seen about everything. Wrong, Jim. You never even imagined the criminal mind that would conceive ...
--stuffing something non-flushable down a WalMart toilet
--arranging yourself on the commode
--hitting the lever
--enduring the chilly flow on your back side
--complaining to store management
--demanding and getting new clothes plus cash for the merchandise you were planning to return but couldn't because the backup destroyed the receipt.
---
It would be entertaining to be in court to hear Ms. Cannon explain this; even more fun to hear top-flight WalMart managers detail how she got away with it several times.
True, it would tempt a journalist to write it up with all the obvious, sophomoric puns. Of course I would resist any such non-professionalism.
Bidet as it may, it would still be fun.
--stuffing something non-flushable down a WalMart toilet
--arranging yourself on the commode
--hitting the lever
--enduring the chilly flow on your back side
--complaining to store management
--demanding and getting new clothes plus cash for the merchandise you were planning to return but couldn't because the backup destroyed the receipt.
---
It would be entertaining to be in court to hear Ms. Cannon explain this; even more fun to hear top-flight WalMart managers detail how she got away with it several times.
True, it would tempt a journalist to write it up with all the obvious, sophomoric puns. Of course I would resist any such non-professionalism.
Bidet as it may, it would still be fun.
Sep 23, 2013
Dancing with the Tsars
At the Obama-led grave dance, it was again determined that a self-willed gun killed a group of people. More precisely, His Ineptness blamed "a bullet from a gun," demonstrating again his absolute mastery of turning a solemn occasion into a photo-op captioned with sound bites.
I assume it was merely an oversight that he neglected to mention that his -- and I mean his -- security services decided it was dandy to award a "secret" clearance and easy naval-base access to an admitted tinfoil hatter who heard voices and had a history of shooting off guns when ever he felt a little frustrated.
Perhaps his advisers will alert him to the omission, and he will shortly go back on the teevee to add that he has been commander-in-chief for some five years and hence might bear some buck-stops-here responsibility for a Three-Stooges security performance.
Still, I'm reserving most of my scorn for a guy a little lower on the public pay scale, our old buddy duh mare.
"Washington Mayor Vincent Gray also called for action, saying "our country is drowning in a sea of guns."
Look, you nincompoop, the nation is not drowning in a sea of anything except debt and devalued money. Otherwise it's actually in drought. We're bone dry of politicians capable of addressing the point at hand which, in this case, is a security bureaucracy with Curly in charge, advised by Moe and Larry.
.
I assume it was merely an oversight that he neglected to mention that his -- and I mean his -- security services decided it was dandy to award a "secret" clearance and easy naval-base access to an admitted tinfoil hatter who heard voices and had a history of shooting off guns when ever he felt a little frustrated.
Perhaps his advisers will alert him to the omission, and he will shortly go back on the teevee to add that he has been commander-in-chief for some five years and hence might bear some buck-stops-here responsibility for a Three-Stooges security performance.
Still, I'm reserving most of my scorn for a guy a little lower on the public pay scale, our old buddy duh mare.
"Washington Mayor Vincent Gray also called for action, saying "our country is drowning in a sea of guns."
Look, you nincompoop, the nation is not drowning in a sea of anything except debt and devalued money. Otherwise it's actually in drought. We're bone dry of politicians capable of addressing the point at hand which, in this case, is a security bureaucracy with Curly in charge, advised by Moe and Larry.
.
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