NQ3X - Radio Free Raubsville

We're back!

Tue, 05 Jan 2010 19:14:20 GMT

kass_rants . Pictures and stuff, you know.

Now I have to get back to work.

Wheee!
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Serendipity

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 16:01:33 GMT

Karma strikes in mysterious ways.

As many of you know, Kass and I are shortly to take the first real vacation we've had since 2003 - we're sailing next Sunday (the 20th) from Brooklyn on the Queen Mary II to various and sundry Caribbean islands, arriving back in Brooklyn on the 3rd of January. That means lots of formal dining.

Luckily I've got both a tuxedo - black tie - and a tailcoat ensemble - white tie. Trouble is, I'm short of linens. I've only one shirt for each outfit.

Kass and I were out and about this AM running some errands. On a whim, we decided to stop in to our local thrift store. I was hoping to score a couple of business-suit shirts at the very least, because I'm low on those, too. When what did we find in the racks? Two tuxedo shirts in exactly my size, both still with the dry-cleaner's tags on them. These weren't there six weeks ago. $1.95 for one and $2.95 for the other.

Nice.

Now if only Amazon Dry Goods can get the collars, cuffs, shirts and celluloid bibs to me in time (for the tailcoat ensemble), I'll be golden!

The Attack of the Killer Cadillac

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 14:58:12 GMT

Apparently, today is to be my Lucky Day.

Last night we had a hell of a storm. Rain came down as though dumped from a bucket, wind howled as though from a pack of wolves pursuing a sledge full of Russian peasants. We think there was even thunderbolts and lightning. (Very frightening, Galileo.) Snug in our warm bed, buried under a heap of hounds, we blithely ignored it and went on cruising through the dreamless.

This morning, we awoke to the sounds of cars splashing madly. To explain this, let me give you some background.

Our house is in what many would call The Country along the scenic Delaware River some miles north of Philadelphia. It is five miles walk to the nearest store from whence essentials like bread, milk, deli sandwiches and feminine protective products can be had (did I mention it is a general store in the purest sense of the term?). Usually the only annoyance is from gangs of Harley-Davidson motorcycles rumbling down the road in front of the house.

That's the problem - the road in front of the house.

This road, Pennsylvania Route 611, lies on the old route between Philadelphia and New York. As such, it is still, though two lanes of country road, a major route of commerce from the Lehigh Valley to Philadelphia, enduring much travel daily. Last summer, PennDOT decided to resurface the road in our parts, causing mayhem and snarling motorists for miles around. Once finished, 611 became far better to drive. It did, however, mean reintegrating homeowners' driveways with the road, including ours. What they neglected to consider, however, is the low-lying area a few feet wide between the resurfaced roadway and the stone wall which marks the front of our home lot.

The low-lying bit fills with runoff at the slightest provocation. Rain of any amount fills it. Snow melt fills it. And, since it is autumn, dead leaves fill it, too. There is a drain between our driveway and the neighbor's, which does a half-arsed job of draining our patch; the conjoining of our driveway and the road prevents our puddle - excuse me, lake - from completely draining.

Trouble is, that drain gets clogged with stuff like old leaves. When storms blow through, other debris contributes to the clogging, turning the area immediately before our house - incuding Route 611 - into a minor replica of Lake Superior.

That was what we heard this morning - cars crashing into Lake Inferior and hydroplaning all over the place. Lake Inferior was covering the entire southbound lane of 611.

That is a real hazard. No one should be killed or maimed because PennDOT is too stupid to grade and level their work, or because the drains are clogged with debris. Thus I planned to don my Wellies and for Kass to help with the hounds so I could attack the blocked drain with a garden rake and spade.

Dogs having had their morning constitutional and Wellies firmly affixed to feet, I approached Lake Inferior. As I did so, I noticed a largish bit of debris which, in the dim, pre-0700-hours light, remarkably resembled a tombstone. This item, which turned out to be a large plastic ice-cream advertisement from Parts Unknown, had lodged itself into the drain, belligerently transforming into a 2-by-3-foot toilet flapper.

Grasping my trusty rake with manly fortitude, I prepared to wade into Lake Inferior with the intent of dislodging the errant drain-plug. Whereupon I immediately leapt back to safety. Traffic, you see, had not abated in the slightest; indeed, if anything it had become more industrious. In order to prevent being sloshed with wake, much dodging and weaving had to be accomplished on a moment's notice.

Finally, to Kass's delight - for she had by this time bunged the hounds back in Chez McGann-Davis and joined me - the Giant Toilet Flapper sluggishly responded to my ministrations, popping loose with a rather disturbing sucking sound. Immediately standing water began to gush through the drain, not unlike pulling the cork on a giant shallow bathtub. Standing ready with my rake, I periodically - between leaps to avoid car-induced spray - kept the drain clear of leaves and other detritus so as to drain more quickly.

Most passing motorists made every effort to avoid the standing water, as responsible motorists should, unless there was an oncoming vehicle in the northbound lane. After the 3,258th passing car, I had stopped leaping so far back from the road, trusting in my fellow humans to do the right thing by a fellow man.

There, dear readers, I made my bloomer.

For, not ten seconds after I started congratulating myself for a job well and truly done, a black, late-model Cadillac came careening around the curve, whereupon it plowed full-force and with malice aforethought smack into the center of Lake Inferior. The resulting wake and spray completely drenched me with brackish, cold water from the top of my cloth cap to the inside of my trusty Wellies. After so ill-treated a fellow passenger on Spaceship Earth, it blithely motored on as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Perhaps I should be more understanding. Perhaps, in Mr Cadillac's world, drenching hard-working homeowners with brackish, cold water is a pleasant pastime, not unlike certain tribes of South American people where the sole form of amusement is tossing crocodiles to one another. Perhaps Mr Cadillac thought he was in a screwball 1930s comedy film, in which the Down-and-Out protagonist is drenched on the sidewalk by a passing omnibus; in that case drenching me would be de rigeur.

Unfortunately, he sped on so quickly that I hadn't even time to hurl my trusty rake through his windscreen. All I could do was stand and scream, "ASSHOLE!" at the top of my lungs. Lord knows what the neighbors thought of that at just after seven in the morning.

I should note for the record that I haven't even contracted a cold in the head from this adventure. For, at Kass's stern demand, I finished the job and rushed back inside to change my sodden garments. Still, I put it down here for your amusement and edification.

Moral: When Lake Inferior forms before your house, beware black, late-model Cadillacs. You won't regret it.

Wow. Am I ever easily distracted.

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 13:01:44 GMT

I don't know why I was mesmerized by this. Hopefully you will be, too.

He's comiiiiiiiing....

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 02:31:59 GMT

Courtesy of bauhausfrau , I thought I should pass this along. According to http://blog.makezine.com/:

"During the summer of 1997, the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) repeatedly detected an extremely powerful underwater sound on an array of Cold War era hydrophones originally installed to listen for soviet submarines. "While it bears the varying frequency hallmark of marine animals, it is far more powerful than the calls made by any creature known on Earth." Phil Lobel, a marine biologist at Boston University, purportedly "agrees that the sound is most likely to be biological in origin," although his opinion appears to be in the minority. (Both quotes from this article at CNN.com.) The approximate origin of the sound has been identified as 50 S x 100 W, which is almost exactly the same latitude as Lovecraft's fictitious sunken city of R'lyeh, at 48 S x 123 W, although it is 1000 miles distant in terms of longitude.

You can listen to a sped-up version of "The Bloop" on the NOAA website here."

A look at Google Maps shows that location is some 1000 miles off the west coast of Chile, waaaaaay south of Santiago. There's nothing anywhere near there. I've listened to that recording, and it is pretty freaking creepy.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! Ia! Ia!

Fawkes YOU!

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 12:54:52 GMT

Remember, remember the fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Interesting!

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 15:15:08 GMT

Courtesy of mistressarafina :

visited 32 states (64%)
Create your own visited map of The United States

I say, happy birthday, my dear fellow, what?

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 11:48:41 GMT

Ladies and gentlemen,

I invite you to wish a happy birthday to Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. Very probably the finest writer of humorous fiction in the English language, he has given joy to millions of people in dozens of languages worldwide. Thus it is, on what would have been his 128th birthday, I ask you to raise a glass in his honor.

I mean to say, the fellow's devilish clever, what? Can't let a chap like that go unrecognized.

Thus does the Viral Poll Syndrome rear its ugly head.

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 19:32:17 GMT

You are The Wheel of Fortune

Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of
intoxication with success

The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.

Does this mean I get to bang Vanna White?

'Cos she's still hawt. I mean, YOWZA.

The Inevitable Has Happened...

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 16:44:46 GMT

...I have fallen off a horse for the first time.

Okay, I say horse. What I mean is 14.1 hand Halflinger/Morgan pony. Little bastard.

See, the barn where I take lessons has this pair of small Halflinger/Morgan horses, originally bred as a carriage pair. They're usually fairly nice horses to ride. They've got smooth, even gaits, they're pretty easy to cue, and they don't take a lot of work.

But they've been used to beginners for some time. So they're starting to get cranky. Ace, the larger of the brothers, I know how to take in hand pretty quickly. He tries to bite me, I grab his lower lip like I'm pulling a largemouth out of the lake, and he quiets. Repeat once or twice, and he knows who's boss. Ace and I had a brilliant hour or so together, ending with a short jaunt on the wooded trails to cool down.

Blaze - the pony referred to above - is another story. In fact, he has started kicking out at the instructress while on a lunge line. Not bucking, just kicking straight out. She asked me to "school" him in my limited, skill-level-just-above-beginner way for an hour or so yesterday.

At first all was well. After a short battle of wills, Blaze and I did a lot of laps around the small beginner's ring. Walk, trot, walk, trot, whoa, back up, trot, canter: I only had to give him stick a couple of times. So I thought we had an understanding.

I was wrong, apparently.

We left the beginner's ring and went to the large outdoor arena where Kass was trotting on another horse, Nala - a wonderful Arab mare with great manners. Blaze and I did some more walk, trot and canter. We were cantering nicely when all of a sudden, Blaze threw on the brakes, lowered his head and ducked his right shoulder.

I went ass-over-teakettle onto my head and right shoulder. I hit so hard I bounced, twice. Kass, who was a good thirty yards away, confessed she'd never seen or heard anyone hit that hard in her 20+ years of riding.

Luckily my helmet took the brunt of the impact.

This is what the helmet is supposed to look like:

This is what the helmet looks like after it's been landed on by a 200-pound bloke:

Note all the scratches from the sand.

Also, the foam underneath got badly crushed. I shouldn't be able to do this:

Note how the pressure of my thumb is pressing the used-to-be-hard plastic into the pulverized foam.

So I went out this morning and got a new helmet. We have a clinic this weekend at the barn and my head is too inflated to fit any of the school helmets.

I am the achiest, brittle-est ex-Airborne Ranger in Christendom right now. As each hour passes, I'm more and more convinced of my own mortality - nothing shows you that you're mortal more than a hurtling plummet from a cantering horse.

For those horsey people reading this, yes, I got right back on him. We did some more ring work, then hit the trail to cool down.

Little creep. I'll get him in hand over the next few weeks, see if I don't.

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 19:20:05 GMT

Thanks to helwen !

Lead the way!

What I'm Reading Now

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 13:25:24 GMT

Those who know me and my literary habits know those habits are, shall we say, eclectic. I read everything from high fantasy to modern military thrillers to English-language classics to philosophical polemics. Having recently finished not only a fascinating treatment of Churchill's rise to power and the tenuous hold the United Kingdom had in May 1940 (Five Days in London: May 1940, by John Lukacs) and our most recent P. G. Wodehouse acquisition (Doctor Sally), I was in the mood for something different.

So when we were in the local bookstore the other day, I picked up a copy of a work about which I'd heard much buzz: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Oh, yeah, I thought. Mr Darcy and hordes of the undead. This ought to be entertainingly silly.

I can say, my friends, without reservation or fear of exaggeration, that this book is entertaining. Far from a silly pastiche, however, it is the fracking bomb. I've not yet finished it, but it's pure entertainment.

Most interesting to me is the rather seamless manner in which fanfic author Seth Grahame-Smith has entwined the undead ultraviolence with Jane Austen's original prose. I cannot claim to be an Austen scholar, able to instantly recognize her prosaic hand at play, but rest assured: If, like me, you haven't read Austen since you were forced to do so in school, you'll be hard pressed to recognize where Austen leaves off and Grahame-Smith begins. He clearly has learned her syntax quite well, and deftly inserts his bits; so deft is his masonry that I can't find the joints.

There are a few bits I find jarring. The manner in which Grahame-Smith depicts the Brown Bess, for example, leaves the reader with the impression that that muzzle-loading British musket is a repeater of some sort. Such ephemera, however, is easily ignored for the sake of a whacking good read.

If you seek an entertaining read for your Halloween activities, I highly recommend Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It's a hoot!

Perspective

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 11:34:38 GMT

From The Guardian. Interesting read!

Sigh...

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 23:57:45 GMT

Thus do the Post-Event Blahs really hit home.

I miss Pennsic. Not Pennsic qua Pennsic, if that's the word I'm looking for - Lord knows I don't really enjoy rain and mud and dust and bugs crawling into my nostrils at 2AM - but the cameraderie, being surrounded by my friends and loved ones.

I miss all the everything that went on all the time.

I miss Teribus playing the merchant stalls.

I miss seeing people in spot-on clothing, looking like they just stepped out of a painting or woodcut.

I miss the wretched "attempts" at pre-17th-century attire - and especially the quiet, evil snickering that accompanied the sightings.

I miss hanging with my Laurel - daily. I spent more more time, cumulatively, with her this past Pennsic than I have in the past six years.

I miss drinking Maeryk's beer and being sardonic.

I miss watching Mistress Sarafina actually, really licking a palm. Repeatedly.

I miss waking up in the morning before damned near everyone else in V&E and putting the coffee on to perk.

I miss Beatriz sleeping on the ground in the middle of the Vortex of Evil.

I miss Amy pretending she's not really Kass's evil twin sister.

I miss Vairavi pretending to have decorum.

I miss a world lit only by fire (most of the time, anyway).

I guess I just miss it all. It's usual for me to get the Post-Event Blahs, but this is acute. I wish I could remember everyone's LJ handles; if I could, I'd link 'em in. I spent so much time with so many of you. Most of you are on my F-list anyway, so you'll get this.

Just take away my thanks for making Pennsic 38 such a swell time, okay?

This is cool!

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 12:04:29 GMT

I know most of you have probably already seen this, but I think it's awesome with awesome sauce, garnished with kittens and win.

Memorials

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 12:20:12 GMT

With all the folderol of celebrity deaths and the media craziness surrounding same, I want to share something. I don't know where it came from. I didn't write it. But it expresses exactly how I feel about how upside-down is the importance we place on what's news and what isn't.

We're hearing a lot today about big splashy memorial services.

I want a nationwide memorial service for Darrell "Shifty" Powers.

Shifty volunteered for the airborne in WWII and served with Easy Company of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, part of the 101st Airborne Infantry. If you've seen Band of Brothers on HBO or the History Channel, you know Shifty. His character appears in all 10 episodes, and Shifty himself is interviewed in several of them.

I met Shifty in the Philadelphia airport several years ago. I didn't know who he was at the time. I just saw an elderly gentleman having trouble reading his ticket. I offered to help, assured him that he was at the right gate, and noticed the "Screaming Eagle", the symbol of the 101st Airborne, on his hat.

Making conversation, I asked him if he'd been in the 101st Airborne or if his son was serving. He said quietly that he had been in the 101st. I thanked him for his service, then asked him when he served, and how many jumps he made.

Quietly and humbly, he said "Well, I guess I signed up in 1941 or so, and was in until sometime in 1945 . . . " at which point my heart skipped.

At that point, again, very humbly, he said "I made the 5 training jumps at Toccoa, and then jumped into Normandy . . . . do you know where Normandy is?" At this point my heart stopped.

I told him yes, I know exactly where Normandy was, and I know what D-Day was. At that point he said "I also made a second jump into Holland, into Arnhem." I was standing with a genuine war hero . . . . and then I realized that it was June, just after the anniversary of D-Day.

I asked Shifty if he was on his way back from France, and he said "Yes. And it's real sad because these days so few of the guys are left, and those that are, lots of them can't make the trip." My heart was in my throat and I didn't know what to say.

I helped Shifty get onto the plane and then realized he was back in Coach, while I was in First Class. I sent the flight attendant back to get him and said that I wanted to switch seats. When Shifty came forward, I got up out of the seat and told him I wanted him to have it, that I'd take his in coach.

He said "No, son, you enjoy that seat. Just knowing that there are still some who remember what we did and still care is enough to make an old man very happy." His eyes were filling up as he said it. And mine are brimming up now as I write this.

Shifty died on June 17 after fighting cancer.

There was no parade.

No big event in StaplesCenter.

No wall to wall back to back 24x7 news coverage.

No weeping fans on television.

And that's not right.

Let's give Shifty his own Memorial Service, online, in our own quiet way.

Rest in peace, Shifty.

OMG!!1!

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 19:39:39 GMT

If you have time to kill - it's getting on to the end of the workday, after all - click here for the latest version of the Bible.

I damn near dropped my laptop. It's funny! But I don't know if it's funny because it took lots of people lots of wasted time to do it or because it's...er....funny.

Enjoy!

If you've seen this before, please excuse me. I just found it this afternoon.

Let me give you a taste:

Teh Reech Kitteh

16 Now a d00d cames up to Jebus an ask, "Teacher, I does wat gud stuf so I can has eeturmal lyfs?"*

17 "Whai ju aks me abot whut goodz?" Jebus saied. "Der onlee Wun iz goodz. U wants 2 has lyfs, U obyz teh comandamanamenz."

18 "Whut comandamanamenz?" aks teh reech kitteh. Jebus saied, " 'No kilin doodz, no sexin owtsayd marege, no taksin cheezburgr from peepuls, no can tells lai,19 respeckz ur momz and daz,' an 'luvz ur naibors but not wif sexin.'"

20 "Did dat aredy, srsly. I can has eeturmal lyfs nao?"

21 Jebus den sais, "If u wan bee purfex, go, sel ur stufs an gevs ur cheezburgrs 2 teh pors, n den u can has invisible cheezburgr. Den cum, fowul meez."

22 Den reech mans went awai sadz, becuz he hadz many monys.

23 Den Jeezus sai to hiz desiplz, "Im teh srs, it teh sux 4 a rich kittn to go 2 teh Ceiling.24 Aiz tel yu geiz agin, it srsly moar easier 4 graet daen to fit in teh tiny cat cariur dan for fancey feast kitteh two go to teh Howse uf teh Ceiling Cat."\

25 Disipulz hearz, dey leik NO WAI!!1 HU B SAEVD DEN??

26 Jeezus lukee dem, sai, "Wif manz dis iz FAIL, but wif Ceiling Cat evrytingz lolcodable."

27 Petrz leik, "Weez lef ar stufs 2 folow u! Can has cheezburgr or cookie or wut?"

28 Jeezus dun sai 2 demz, "Ai tell u trewfs, @ teh restart, wen Sun of Kittehs sits on his kewl cat condo, u wil urselfs sit on twelv cat condoz, judgin teh twelv breedz uv Israel.29 An evrybudiez lef howsiz or brovrz or sisez or studz or queenz or kittnz or catbowlz 4 maek me cheezburgr will has awsum intrist raet on IOUz an wil has zombi-ness.30 But meny hu r kewl wil has teh suck, an meny hu iz teh suck wil has moar cheezburgrs.

Happy Birthday...

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 12:17:12 GMT

...to Tattycat! You rawk!

LOLZ is funneh

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 17:43:34 GMT

One for the science geeks:

One for the computer geeks:

One for tattycat :

And my personal favorite:

That's enough for today.

Random Cuteness.

Thu, 28 May 2009 21:07:30 GMT

Well, not so random. An online brewing acquaintance just got another dog to replace his beloved assistant brewer, who passed on to the Fields of Joy last year. Here she is, LOLed by yours truly:

Wed, 13 May 2009 01:12:49 GMT

Your results:
You are Worf

Worf		90%
Geordi LaForge		85%
Chekov		75%
Uhura		75%
Jean-Luc Picard		70%
Mr. Scott		65%
Deanna Troi		65%
James T. Kirk (Captain)		60%
Will Riker		60%
Mr. Sulu		55%
An Expendable Character (Redshirt)		40%
Data		36%
Leonard McCoy (Bones)		25%
Spock		24%
Beverly Crusher		20%

You are trained in the art of combat
and are usually intimidating.

Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Quiz

Some Thoughts On Teh Stoopid

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 19:49:14 GMT

People always say, "There is no cure for stupid."

Bollocks.

Of course there is a cure for stupid: take its money.

Follow me attentively. Without money, it cannot eat. Then one has the quiet satisfaction of watching it starve to death in the street. Hopefully, one will have the additional benefit of witnessing its mortal remains defiled through being repeatedly run over by an omnibus.

I like to think of it as a healthy dose of bleach in the gene pool - something entirely necessary to keep the scum from taking over everything.

Too funny!

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 21:18:26 GMT

Coming soon!

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 12:15:38 GMT

Am I the only person this totally creeps out?

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 13:09:03 GMT

Srsly. I mean, srsly. This is frelling creepy.

[shudder]