We interrupt this interruption for a public service announcement.




The reunion information for the Alma High School Class of 1987 can be found at this link. Bust out your Growl Towels.

That is all.

Arrivederci.

Call me disruptive,
Say I break your concentration.
Familiar pattern,
Like the waves that break too fast.
What do you when it's so brand new
That it kills you?

Came on too strong,
Couldn't stand it slow,
And now I know
She can knock me back like a champ

Disembodied ringlets,
From hair that looked like yours.
Call me the looming shapes
of winter's dusk impending

She barely fits inside my head
But I feel something
Every element but one is in my thoughts

Stop traffic as I lie down in your footpath
Like a simile
I paint suggestive pictures
Of me and you.

Disembodied ringlets,
From hair that looked like yours
Call me the looming shapes
of winter's dusk impending

Call me freaky
Call me childish
Call me Ishmael
Just call me back
Call me back
Call me back
and I'll follow you around

I forget
What my friends look like
And they forget why they like me
But it's an old hat
I'm so happy
I'm so happy
How do you write about that?
How do you write about that?

Disembodied ringlets,
From hair that looked like yours
Call me the looming shapes
Of winter's dusk impending

Disembodied ringlets,
From hair that looked like yours
Call me the looming shapes
Of winter's dusk impending.

--Harvey Danger, "Old Hat"

See you in a week or so. More likely than not.

I just couldn't pass on this piece of USDA Certified, Grade A hypocrisy.

Saint Bill Moyers is at it again, this time bringing the brimstone against the Left's Antichrist, Karl Rove. I'm pretty sure I've never blogged about Rove. Frankly, I don't care much for the man, and his elitist crappola about trying to save his son from an honest day's work was repellent. I'll even concede that, on balance, he's been a negative force in American politics.

But for Bill F.N. Moyers, of all people, to get worked into a lather about evil politicos...well, that's...staggering.

I suppose I should give the man a hearing: he's certainly an expert in cutthroat politicking.

But this argument is just too fraudulent for words:

Using church pews as precincts, Rove turned religion into a weapon of political combat -- a battering ram, aimed at the devil's minions. Especially at gay people. It's so easy, as Karl knew, to scapegoat people you outnumber. And if God is love, as rumor has it, Rove knew in politics to bet on fear and loathing. Never mind that in stroking the basest bigotry of true believers you coarsen both politics and religion.

Blow it out your ass, "Reverend":

Only a few weeks before the 1964 election, a powerful presidential assistant, Walter Jenkins, was arrested in a men's room in Washington. Evidently, the president was concerned that Barry Goldwater would use that against him in the election. Another assistant, Bill Moyers, was tasked to direct Hoover to do an investigation of Goldwater's staff to find similar evidence of homosexual activity. Mr. Moyers' memo to the FBI was in one of the files.

Yep. Preach on, Brother Bill. But take a moment to remove the Sequoias from your pupils first.

You know, one of these days....

I'm going to quit this thing.

Maybe sooner than you think. Maybe even sooner than I think.

Just the way things work.

This isn't some kind of threat or anything. I won't be putting out a tin cup to rattle. And, after all, this is a blog, not some Important Project That Will Stand The Test Of Time. A lot of them go belly up without any fanfare (right, Jim?). But the fact is, right now the tank is a whole lot closer to "E" than to "F."

Consider this your heads up.

Happy Birthday, Brennen!

My brilliant nephew (one of The Boy's heroes) turns 9 today.

Which means that I am now officially older than dirt.

Family reunion.

We spent the extended weekend up north. The Prices had a family reunion at my mom and dad's on Saturday. I spent most of the time attempting to separate beloved relatives from their money in cutthroat poker games. Alas, I merely broke even and my uncle Norm walked out with pocket change to last a lifetime. The kids had fun chasing panfish with their second cousins. Heather was congratulated on bearing up with the Newest Addition. Heather also witnessed a miracle yesterday: me spending an hour in a bookstore without buying anything. It even spooked the weird cowled guy riding a white horse down M-59. Kept checking his wrist and muttering "Am I late?"

We returned late yesterday, so I'll be trying to catch up.

Man vs. toilet.

Victory is mine.

And I only smashed my head into the well-anchored medicine cabinet three times during the three hours I worked on it.

Which included a trip to Home Depot for a replacement part that wasn't part of the kit (nor should it have been, btw).

Another bequest from the Three Dollar Renovator.

The system works better than it used to, to no one's very great surprise.

Bored convicts. Free time. Access to a law library.

What could possibly go wrong?

How apologies are done.

Ryan Sager, a writer for the New York Sun, was lambasted for a misleading quote of Sen. Sam Brownback on the campaign stump. Called on it, Sager agreed, and issued a full apology and correction of the original piece.

That's how it's supposed to be done--no qualifiers, no "sorry you were offended but I'm not admitting I'm wrong"--just a complete mea culpa followed up by efforts to repair the damage.

This is admirable, and seen all too infrequently. Something I can file away for the inevitable future reference.

Man vs. Lawn.

The edging is 60% done.

Ibuprofen is my friend. Nay, my boon companion.

Still, I wish they sold codeine over the counter.

If I composted, I'd be set for quite a while.

Man vs. house.

Checklist for blog host:

1. Put new door closer cylinder on back door.

Check--unnervingly easy. Waiting for it to explode.


2. Put new edger to work on sidewalks.

About one third done. Difficulty level--insane. We have a corner lot. It's quite evident no one's ever run an edger on the property since the sidewalks were poured in the'50s. The edger attachment is top-heavy to boot. In a word, it's sodbusting. Ouch. What I have completed does look nice, though.


3. Install new toilet float, pump and seal.

Requires removal of cistern and installation of new mounts. Because this has the potential to be a slapstick classic, I'm saving it for next to last. Why, yes, I do have a wet/dry vacuum.


4. Install two pieces of metal carpet trim.

Saving the least challenging for last. Measure and cut with hacksaw. Something tells me I'll be looking forward to it after number 3.