Almost forgot about this on Leno last night. The truly amazing thing: he was calm…at times appearing thoughtful. It is amazing what a suit and haircut will do.
Superhero Hype! is a website dedicated to all things Superhero.
Because I had a comic collection when I was a kid. You gotta problem with that?
I had to laugh at this Dell commercial: The dad asks his pre-teen son what kind of PC he wants for Christmas. And the kid starts rattling off the specs for a $4000 PCI-E gamer’s dream system. Then it breaks to a plug for their gift card, showing a $500 card, and then a plug for their Dimension 2400 $399 price leader.
Riiiiight Dell, I can just see all these parents giving their kids $500 Dell gift cards. And then hearing, “yea, sure, mom and dad. This might get me a graphics card and some speakers.” đ
Update: I really should mention that very few gamers are dreaming of Dell systems, or anything else that uses Intel. AMD is really walking away from Intel in the high performance game. Indeed, the 925XE chipset that the kid wants is pretty sucky.
Smash had a busy week. Start at the top and scroll down. If you’re not from San Diego, the mayorial election seems kind of boring until you realize he’s talking about a popular write-in candidate who might lose because people wrote in her name but failed to color the bubble.
Frank J. has letters from vets to Michael Moore.
Michele has a new, header which could either be blasphemous or pure poetry…I come from a mixed marriage, Dad was a Bears fan, Mom was pure Packers. The reposted Thanksgiving bit is good for a chuckle if you were ever a comics geek.
Blackfive has a very cool picture of a “Marine Rifle Platoon.” And a link to a petition in support of the Marine being investigated in the Mosque shooting.
Speaking of the Marine in the Mosque thing…The Cartoon Nazi has one of the better rants I’ve seen on the subject.
And Risawn is having fun with her 15 minutes by posting more Photoshopped images of her now infamous, “I’m Not Sorry” photo.
Out here…must go PT….I love PT…really. My 43 year old body is loving all the oxygen…loving the sweat…loving every little ache and pain that I fully deserve from taking too much time off. Righhhht.
I just saw a Fox News interview with Amy and Deanna McCollum, the sisters charged with vandalizing a police station in Trumbull County, Ohio.
Their excuse: “we thought we were going to be raped.” Oh yes, that’s logical behavior for a woman in fear of rape – take your top off. LMFAO
There was a noted tendency in modern pop music, for the selections played over the AFRTS airwaves to become gradually longer, as the decades passed. Selections from the 1950ies and early 1960ies generally clocked in at about two minutes, those from the late 1960ies and 1970ies averaged about three minutes. After the mid 1980ies, the top of the pop charts were often clocked at four to six minutes.
Why is this significant? If you were putting together an oldies show, you needed to pull fifteen or sixteen selections to fill out each hour of the show, rather than the twelve or so that would serve for more contemporary programs. Which would actually be 55 minutes, or an hour less the 5 minutes of news at the top of the hour, two or three minutes of spots scattered throughout, and the DJs own patter. Myself, when marooned in the wee hours doing midnight rock and roll—I played the game of seeing how few cuts I could play, without resorting to the champion long-wind âInaGaddah-Davidahâ (18 minutes). Given a couple of concert renditions, and the âFrankie Goes to Hollywoodâ album, I had it down to 4.
Of course, there have always been exceptions to the general time rule, especially from the more adventuresome pop artists, and these exceptionally long cuts were esteemed and valued by working DJs for a very good and particular reason.
Which was, that during the course of a two or three hour live show, you might have to leave the studio, to pull news copy from the teletype⌠or as is most common— to use the bathroom! This could, at some stations, be rather complicated— I worked once with a woman whose first radio job had been at a station in a trailer around the back of a large, old-fashioned hotel⌠and the nearest womanâs restroom was in the lobby. She needed a record to run at least six minutes, which was just enough time for her to run out of the trailer, around to the front of the hotel, and into the lobby⌠and then back again.
With time, DJs develop a sort of internal clock, becoming excellent judges of exactly how much time they have to perform these and other chores, and still be back behind mike, perhaps breathing a little hard, ready to roll the next record. At EBS-Athens, I could put on a similarly-lengthy record during the afternoon show, cue up the next one, and dash across the parking lot to the Post Office to get my mail and collect any packages from the window. One of my supervisors at Misawa, TSgt Don, the Program Director took it even farther, when he was assigned to an AFRTS unit based in Teheran, some decades before the embassy takeover. The AFRTS station operated in a building across the compound from the AAFES cafeteria, and the young TSgt Don would put on the deathless âInaGadda-Davidahâ, and gallop out of the studio, across the compound to the cafeteria, go through the service line, and hasten back to the studio with his meal. The morning guy, Dickie the Crazy Marine once spent most of a show in the can, the morning after the Marine Ball at Misawa AB, hung over and throwing up during a couple of hours of long songs, and speaking very little in between them. Emergencies do happen occasionally.
Technically, on-duty DJs are supposed to remain the area of the studio, if not actually in it, during their shift, and monitor what is going out over the airâŚ. But the need for a meal, or to collect a much-anticipated package from the Post Office⌠or just to answer the call of nature⌠sometimes it is just too much to ignore. And when you hear something rather longer then usual on your radio station, now you know that there may be a reason for it⌠other than itâs position in the charts and place on the stationsâ play list rotation.
And the title for this post? The first part is the answer to the riddle, âWhy is it a prerequisite for broadcasters to have small hands and feet?
Ken over at “It Comes In Pints?” links to a very interesting blogger who’s going to be reporting live from Kosovo sometime after Christmas….you remember Kosovo? Yes…we’re still in Kosovo.
Anyway, go check out Incoherant Ramblings and things best left unsaid. The title alone makes me a fan and if you click around her site I think you’ll find that you’ve seen her picture before. Perhaps we need to add her to our portal?
Don’t you hate it when commercial campaigns take a tune that you used to like and over play it until you can’t stand it any more? So it is with Tommy James’ Draggin’ The Line (Mitsubishi), and Ray Davies’ Picture Book (HP). They where catchy tunes in their day. But in both cases, the lyrics are stupid and redundant. I’m starting to hope I never hear them again.
I continue to be reminded of why I don’t support National Public Radio. Here’s a story about Prairie Home Companion’s Garrison Keillor:
Not one to shy away from speaking his mind, Keillor proposed a solution to what he deemed a fundamental problem with U.S. elections. âIâm trying to organize support for a constitutional amendment to deny voting rights to born-again Christians,â Keillor smirked. âI feel if your citizenship is in Heavenâlike a born again Christianâs isâyou should give up your citizenship. Sorry, but this is my new cause. If born again Christians are allowed to vote in this country, then why not Canadians?â
(Hat tip again to Instapundit)
How brave, Garry, to take on born-again Christians. I wonder if you’d get the same sort of laughs with a similar joke about another religious or ethnic group. All in jest, I’m sure. Right?
I used to be a big fan of PHC, but for the past few years, Keillor has been speaking out about his politics more and more, including on the show, so I don’t find it very interesting anymore. It’s hard to separate the two in my mind.
Like Laura Ingraham says, “Shut Up and Sing” .
Any piece of cinematic fiction requires a certain amount of suspension of disbelief. This especially applies to the suspense/action/adventure genres; they are always something of a trip into the surreal. But this trip must necessarily be limited.
I am a huge fan of Hitchcock. Besides his other pioneering laurels, he always knew where to draw the line in keeping the viewer right on the fringe of reality. Just think of The Man Who Knew Too Much, Rear Window, or North by Northwest. Even the latter’s fabled ‘strafing’ scene was perfectly believable by audiences of the day.
Contrast that to the movies of today, where the writers believe that, if the action happens fast enough, the viewer won’t have time to question it’s plausibility. And this is fine in say, a James Bond movie, or something like Rollerball (which I’m currently watching the original version of on TCM), where surrealism is predetermined. But I just watched the last half of U.S. Marshals on TBS. And I had to ask myself, “what sort of idiot would buy this crap?” Among the totally unrealistic scenes that past before me were one where Wesley Snipes drops off a 5 story building, with his fall dampened by a cable over a pulley (how this provided the necessary friction to dampen his fall is unexplained), and Robert Downy Jr. nonchalantly hands his service pistol to Tommy Lee Jones, who casually swaps magazines (I don’t know about you, but my very brief training tells me never to take my eyes off my weapon when submitting it for inspection).
The final action scene in this sorry excuse for a movie has Snipes and Jones fighting each other in the hold of a hopper loaded grain hauling ship (do such things still exist?) AFTER one or the other had lost their pistol in a crane-borne cargo net (on a grain hauler???).
Anyway, I understand U.S. Marshals did ok at the box office, and is paying it’s way as a video. To those that like it: mo’ power to ya’. As for me, I’ll stick to my classics – back to Rollerball.:)
I bought a copy of this from a catalogue because it looked amusing⌠and I confess to have once possessed and giggled frequently over a copy of National Lampoonâs âHigh School Annualâ.
The Jetlag Travel Guide to âMolvaniaâA Land Untouched by Modern Dentistryâ is a perfect send-up of the modern travel guide. (Of which I have a shelf or two full, so I speak from experience). What more can you say about a guidebook with a map in the inside front cover which includes locations like the towns of Pysst, Drizl, and Katflaap, a place called Lake Skrotul and a capital city named Lutenblag, described thusly âWhere old world charm meets concreteâ.
Oh, wait— you could say that about Houston, too
Goldstein sets his sights on…errr…sorry…Target. I said I was sorry.
Wizbang’s Weekend Caption Contest is up and Kevin should be ashamed of himself. It’s WAY too early for that.
Quizilla wants to know which South Park Character you are.
Via Emily.
Henceforth to be known as THR/NF Delusions…assuming more pop up.
You know it’s time to decompress from politics for awhile when weather maps with cold fronts make you wonder what alternate universe you’ve woken up to.
I just received a scam-spam so corny I have to share it:
Darling Earthlink services user,
This is an automated email-notification sent to your registered e-mail adress.
Please do not reply to it as it will not reach the just department.
–
Recently there have been many reports of fraud activity regarding stolen account information and stolen identities.This requires a full update on your records matching our database information to suit the future prolongation of account billing.
You will be prompted to provide full and complete information regarding your account with us just so you can identify your online personality.Please take five minutes to fill out the forms.
Failure to update your online records will result in a halt of your account and a possible reactivation fee.Please Hit here to refresh your billing records.
Thanks for using Earthlink services,
EarthlinkCards Office.
“Darling”? :))
Blackfive is contemplating getting out of Chicago…again. But really dude…Texas? (Looking over my shoulder, seeing Mom in full “Don’t Mess with Texas” glory…how do you clean a shirt with rhinestones?…ahem…Texas is nice…especially San Antonio…in the summer…sure good idea…) Who the hell still owns a Colt six-shooter?
More »
I love South Park. I’ve got an intro piece in the works, but wanted you all to see this one.
Via ASV
I have just learned that school officials in that hotbed of Wiccan activity, Puyallup, WA, are forbidding students from wearing Halloween costumes, as many are disrespectful of the Wicca religion.
One of my favorite comics has always been Canadian Lynn Johnston’s For Better Or Worse:
Follow the links. But note that, as usual, Sunday’s is not part of the series.
I was in denial for years, but during the last five years, I not only accepted being a geek, but also have embraced my geekiness. It was easy to deny being a geek in high school as I was listening to all kinds of music, smoking cigarettes, learning to play the guitar, and having a pretty good social life running around with my friends. Sure I took honors program classes, but a lot of kids in my class did. Sure I was in band, but just one year. I had dreams of becoming a rock star, and spent hours playing my guitar along with my Fleetwood Mac tapes, and later CDâs. However, deep down, there was a geek with aspirations of programming.
Computer Science was my second of three majors in college. I loved it. I would spend hours writing programs, then hours typing it in. (My best friend calls it hunting & pecking.) I can type, just not that well. After typing in and compiling, I would spend several more hours debugging, until I got my program running. I can remember excitingly telling my mom, in painstaking detail, about the steps I took to get a program running, then finally noticing that blank look from her telling me she had no idea what I was talking about and didnât care to learn, but would sit there and listen to me anyway. Alas, I eventually had to take assembly language and never âgot it.â
I spent the better part of last week figuring out how to disassemble our old Compaq Presuckio, oh I mean Presario, just to replace the failing cdrom drive. Reason being, it was still a good machine for the kids to play games on. After replacing the cdrom, I discovered that the hard drive was hosed, and the proprietary POS wouldnât accept a cdrom not made by Compaq. Hence, it is now fully disassembled for spare parts, although I think the floppy drive is the only thing salvageable.
I am also a Trekkie. When I was at Tinker I put together several Star Trek models. I had 3 Enterprise models: 1701, 1701A, and 1701D. I had a Klingon Bird of Prey, a Romulan Warbird, a Ferengi Marauder, Voyager, and the Deep Space Nine space station. I kept them at work on top of my hutch, and was amazed at the people who would ask whose Star Trek models those were. I would think to myself âDuh, theyâre on my deskâŚâ but generally itâs not a good idea as a SrA to say that out loud to a Lt or Capt. I nearly got into gaming while at the JAC, but always managed to not progress beyond computer gaming. I do see the day in the next few years when my husband and I will be playing D&D with our kids. They would already be playing Neverwinter Nights if their video card could handle it.
Who the heck is this other Kevin Connors, and does he got over me? đ
Here I am working late. I say âworkingâ when I am in fact just waiting until after duty hours to do system maintenance that will require about 5 minutes of downtime. Iâm doing a little reading while checking my emails every few minutes for signs of locked accounts and/or forgotten passwords, and checking the audit logs every few minutes for signs of inactivity. Iâm listening to the free Classic Rock station on Launch, and coming close to breaking out those 3 bucks a month to get my personalized station back. Now, my idea of âClassic Rockâ is the Beatles, the Doors, the Stones, Hendrix, Zeppelin, Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and various other late 60âs and 70âs artists. Iâm even willing to concede to including late 70âs Van Halen and Heart. Suddenly I realize âHey, thatâs the Police.â Then I hear some Poison, Ratt, Bon Jovi, Loverboy, Foreigner, and (gasp) U2. What the? When did the stuff I listened to in high school and college become âclassicâ rock??? How can Van Hagar be classic rock??? It hasnât been that longâŚhas it?
Update: The maintenace took 30 minutes. I walked out of the building, and noticed the “Dilbert cloud of doom” overhead. Got out of the car at home and thought “What is that spraying noise?” The antifreeze shooting out of my radiator all over the garage. What a day. Then I go through the mail and find a card from a friend, who is a former JACster as well. I open up the card to the photos placed inside and almost busted a gut over these. Heh heh. And I will never accept Van Hagar as “classic rock.”
So, standing in the supermarket checkout line this evening, I notice a minor tabloid on the rack called the Weekly World News. And their lead story is headlined: Real Life Catwoman Found In Ozarks. In checking out the picture, I see she looks just like … Jeff Foxworthy đ
So, I can hear it in my mind: You Just Might Be A Redneck Catwoman If…
Your Litter Box Is At The Edge Of The Woods…
When You Go To Scratch Up The Furniture, You Keep Poking Yourself On The Springs…
You And Batman Are Actually Cousins…
The Hound-dog Only Chases You When You Try To Raid His Still…
Let me preface this by stating that I have not smoked any marijuana tonight, nor have I in recent memory. đ
I just put some cooked spinach on a Philly cheesesteak sandwich – YUM-YUM!
Oh, and please don’t tell my doctor I’m eating cheesesteaks at midnight. >:)
Considering how frequently difficult it is to open the wrapper without a pair of scissors, shouldn’t the slogan be “SNIP into a Slim-Jim?” đ
I have long been envious of my mother’s big, plush, SitOnIt executive chair. We knew a guy at the factory in Brea, and hardly paid the $900+ list price when we bought it. But he’s long since moved on, and such deals are not to be repeated for those on the outside.
For the past year or so, my computer workstation perch has been a stenographer’s ‘task chair’ that I purchased for the rock-bottom price of $15 (the foam was galled on one of the armrests) from a vendor at the ACP Superswap. Surprisingly well-made, this might have been a fine chair for some anorexic waif of a secretary. But, for one of my rather Falstaffian proportions, it felt as though I was the victim of an attempted anal impalement by the Jolly Green Giant.
All that has changed today. At the sacrifice of new front strut cartridges (shock absorbers) for my Escort in my budget, I just paid $95 at Costco for a fabric-covered low-back executive chair called ‘The Titan’. It appears to be quite well-built. And while it lacks all the features of mom’s chair, it is at least 95% as comfortable.
From your standpoint – look for more from me. After all, a comfortable blogger is a productive blogger. đ
Thanks to Ed Driscoll, I found out that the DoD is replacing me with a newer model:
Code name: “Stryker.” No, that’s not the latest Jerry Bruckheimer-produced explosion-laden action movie. It’s the file name assigned to the supercomputer IBM has been contracted to build for the U.S. Department of Defense.
I had a feeling– you know, people suddenly hushing-up when I walked by, odd glances, awkward moments with long time friends. It should come as no surprise, but I still feel a pang of sadness.
The artificial brain is comprised of a vast array of IBM computers connected via some 2,300 64-bit microprocessors made by AMD. The supercomputer is slated to run on the Linux operating system. Stryker would be the largest Linux-based supercomputer utilized by the U.S. armed forces, a spokesman for the Samuel Palmisano-helmed firm told Reuters.
Alas, I am but a Trash-80 jerry-rigged to run BASIC. Goodbye World.