Tuesday, July 31, 2012

A Few Life Changing Minutes

Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds, to be precise.

Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds ago, I was a lost sheep. Tired, so hungover I shaved off my eyelashes this morning because they were too noisy. It would be fair to say that I was anti-religion, that you could shake beads, chant, and give Rick Warren and Pat Robertson the nicest churches you could afford, and it wouldn't do diddly.

Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds ago, I would have been in the sort of agnostic category. My personal belief system was a grab bag of whatever seemed right to me, including the actual words of Jesus (yes, Mr. Fundiegelical, sir, there is this thingy called The New Testament, with this soshulist hippie dude, named Jesus. Yeah, yes, that's right, the guy your religion is named after. Try reading it once). Oh, and the time he whipped the shit out of the money-grubbers in the Jerusalem temple. Right on, brother! A little Buddha, a touch of Zoroastrianism (primarily Freddie Mercury), a jigger of Wheaton's Law (I need this, incidentally. Honey?)  Most of my beliefs could be boiled down to basically, we're all in this together, so get off your high horse and lend a hand. And, I slept pretty well at night.

Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds ago, I had a checkered relationship with the Clan of The Red Beanie (thank you, Mr. Pierce.) I was raised RC and went to RC grade and high school, but had issues with my faith, in that I could not find hip-waders high enough to continue attending church. My wife and I were married, almost a year ago, in a Catholic church, largely for the benefit of our parents, but we joined, and I was determined to make a go of it, for the sense of community, if nothing else. However, shortly after our ceremony, the Archbishop of Minneapolis, John Nienstadt, having solved world hunger, cured cancer, brought peace to the Middle East, and having taught me how to make the perfect egg popover, decided to get down to the serious stuff of making sure that teh queers couldn't wreck the institution of marriage. I says to him, "Johnny, babe, you can't be serious. What is it, yer masculinity not up to snuff? I can't go along with this, I mean, you and me, we're buds, right?' and he says "paleo, c'mon, paisan, I'm worried about yer everlasting soul, and Bennie needs new Prada shoes, his are getting old, but don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds ago.

But now my soul has been set afire, I blaze, like a, a, a fire, thingy, I have purpose!

Hail Bobby! Bishop Willard and Teh Exorcist 2012!!!

Monday, July 30, 2012

paleo Is More paleo

Yay! It's my birthday! I've finally reached legal drinking age...

...ummm, again. For the many-ith time, in fact. Rats.

However, this is a day off*, so Imma kicking back some, after running errands going to have a relaxing evening and hit it again tomorrow. Not going to post anything of world-shattering meaning today, oh, wait, one thing:

If we manage to avoid a small thermonuclear exchange with Israel, Palestine, Poland, the UK, and Delta Fucking Airways before Willard the Windsock is done with his world tour and Missionary-Palooza I'd be eternally grateful, 'hanks, dude.

Just posting a little fun stuff.

Love this tune!

John Lennon...

Stephen Lynch is the sickest, funniest bastard on the planet! Cool vid, too.

("Honey, its spanking time!!!")
Gotta go!

*I work a very weird, yet not random, schedule

Saturday, July 28, 2012

I've Picked Teh Wrong Career

If'n y'all recall this or this, Sweetheart and I have had some less than adventurous adventures with our basement, especially the bathroom, and mounting discontent with an inefficient use of limited space.

After many heart-to-hearts, research, the bouncing of ideas, wild monkey (owww) looking in catalogs, we are nearly settled with our plan, collecting bids, (slowly - p'raps my deodorant is not working, but the whole calling-back-with-an-estimate thingy seems to be a tall order for some of 'em), we have a couple in and are expecting a couple more, paring down our/my ambitions (stripper parallel bars - she only forbid the stripper pole!, disco ball, electric cat polisher). No secrets here. And we are this close to pulling the trigger.

Here's my issue. Which is mine, by me.



Don't even get the gold toilet or a 12 cylinder wetbar.

The Tragic Mistake Of The Olympic Torch Lighting

Okay, so, good optics, seven former UK Olympic Medalists giving seven torches to seven children of diverse backgrounds to light the torch, I'm enough of a realist to recognize that.

But, the opportunity they wasted! 


Friday, July 27, 2012

Spoiler Alert - I Don't Do Spoilers. The Drunk Knight Rises

paleo and paleo bro-in-law went to see the new Batpic last night, in iMax - just a sec...

(Sweetheart informs me that this is the only "I" product not made by Zombie Steve Jobs. Huh. Whoodathunkt.)

In IMAX, since apparently Christopher Nolan will not do 3D, thinking it's a gimmick. Good for him - unless it's done very well, 3D is just a sort of "Look at what I can do, Ma!" sort of thing anyhow. 

Just to briefly address this and get it out of the way, no, I weren't afeart of no gunman coming in and shooting up the place. I had a mild fear of some member of the Help-Me-My-Penis-Is-Too-Small-So-I-Carry-A-9mm-Replacement Association hearing gunfire on the screen, pissing himself, splattering onlookers, and then shooting himself in the ass when he tried to draw.

One other 'to briefly address this' to be addressed. It is an R-rated movie, and it earns it, especially given the MPAA's tendency to give violence a pass while giving any kiss with a buttfeel an NC-17. Quite intense, violent, and a fair amount of blood. Ma'am, yes, you there, with the young girl, yes - ummm, yer dumb.

Oooh, one other 'to briefly address this' to be pondered. They are making a sequel to, well, everything, actually, but specifically for this 't.b.a.t.', a sequel to The Expendables, a sort of modern remake of Red Dawn, as I understand it - I haven't seen the first Expendables and won't, ugghhh. A snarky line delivered as though the actor has a ferret stuck in his duodenum, followed by gunfire, and that familiar face with a rug beard and a constipated expression - Chuck Norris. Everybody goes yay! I mean, dammit, no-one in the theater knows or cares about how lunacidal that birfer idiot is, but he also SUCKS AS AN ACTOR! Aw, hell, at any rate.

With no spoilers, it's a well done movie, and worth watching in IMAX. I don't know where anyone is getting any sort of political statement out of it, although the wingnut culture warriors find politics in Rice Krispies and then piss themselves, screech, etc. - the politics, such as they are, are all over the map. Long sonuvabitch, slow at times, plot holes you could drive a decent size truck through, and the ending was sort of a copout, to me. Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, well, I knew who she was before and had my doubts, but she did quite well, actually. Very physical role but she really played it well. 

I will suggest seeing it on the big screen, I liked it!

Addendum: I am intrigued by the trailer for OZ, directed by Sam Raimi, without Bruce Campbell. I'll have to googly it, it looked as if it might be just fine, seems like it's the Wizard of Oz from the Wizard's perspective. Eh, we'll see...

Thursday, July 26, 2012

A Few Things On My Mind

Chick-fil-A, a chicken fast food chain, has a reputation of 'piety'. They don't open on Sundays, their reasoning being something along the lines of allowing their employees to attend church and spend the Xtian sabbath with their families. Actually, that is not a dreadful thing. Be nicer if they paid the employees worth a damn, but that's silly talk. They start to get annoying when they play in the realm of marriage equality, as one would expect, given 'piety', on the side of the idiots. Hell. Well, they have the right to be dumb, I don't like it, I have had their food, when one is traveling, you gotta do, etc..., and it's average fast food, but I'm happy to ignore them, because dumb. But now, they've lied about the Muppets.
Maybe I'm a touch unmature, the possibility certainly exists, but I adore the Muppets, always have, from Sesame Street on up the age scale. Chick-fil-A, assuming they survive the well-earned lawsuit from hell, must be leveled, and their parking lots plowed under and salted.

The Summer Olympics, and debut of Lil' Annie Romney's Wild Windsock Dancing Horse Show and Magic-Underwear-Palooza, starts tonight. They of course have the hellaciously hyped Opening Ceremonies, immediately followed by figure skating. The biggest kept secret is the official Bic Lighters©® Igniter Of The Torch. If it's not David Tennant, the Olympics are invalid.

The last couple weeks, I've gotten into Farscape on Netflix, the cancellation of which is yet another example of the erstwhile Sci-Fi network not knowing it's audience, it's mission, what it is calling itself this week, it's ass from it's elbow. Great show, another Henson Production, atchally. Humor, action, more than a fair amount of semi-kink (srsly, much sexy and black leather, not that I'm into anything like that... Well, a bit, p'raps. Such. Also.) Take a look, y'all!

Please keep circulating this tape:

I'm not on Twitter, it's fun to read some of the choicer bits that others find and highlight, but, as you can tell, I doubt I work well in <140 characters. (Also, sweetheart would prefer I not find another distraction). Sometimes there is a tweet I that I feel a need (as unlikely as it would be for the original slapnuts to see, much less note, my carefully considered rebuttal) to respond to. I now hazes a blog, so I can at least post in response. This is via TBogg:
My response, Mr. Taranto of the Wall Street Journal On-Line, had you been there?
"I doubt that you, who would have pulled children and grannies in front of you to save your worthless hide, could ever be worthy of anyone's sacrifice. Suck a tailpipe."

Was that 140 characters? Ermph, regardless.

Hell with it, gotta get to work, me and teh bro-in-law going to see Darn Knight Rises tonight, so rock and roll!

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Ugh. Sigh. Stuff.

Conversation at work as I did my rounds.

Co-worker: “[paleo], I just read that there are 9 gun shops for every McDonalds in America.”

Interesting enough opening. I’ll play for a minute.

p: “Okay, so for the Cities, there must be what, 100 McDonalds? So you’re saying there are 600..”
Co-worker: “…900…”
p: “…yeah, 900 gun shops. Not sure I can see that.”
Co-worker: “Well, they don’t maybe advertise too much. The paper only prints stuff like this when something happens, and then everyone loses their minds and starts talking dumb about guns.”

Must keep my job. Must keep my job. Must walk away.

“Ummm, yeah, [Co-worker]. Later.”

That whole losing-my-sense-of-humor thing. Can’t scream, either. Fuck.

This seems actually appropriate:

Friday, July 20, 2012

Knives Don't Kill People, ...

Has anyone watched the news today? Ho-lee shit! Some guy carrying 4 knives and dressed as a ninja went into a movie theatre and stabbed 12 people to death and wounded several dozen more in the space of a couple minutes.

Noone else in the theatre was carrying a knife to stop him. This is truly a sign of God being driven out of the public schools.

Just getting some confirmation, just a moment...

Mmm-hmmm. OK. Yep. Errr.

My apologies. AR-15, shotgun, two pistols (bought legally, wouldn't want to make unfounded accusations). Kevlar body armor. The part about God and the schools, that's apparently true.

All you manly NRA guys out there masturbating with your 9mm 's, please make certain the clip is loaded, locked, and the safety is off. Just want you to get the full thrill out of it.

And fuck you, you sick, bloodthirsty fucks.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

An Open Letter To The Marriage Amendment People

We recently had a sign put up in our yard. Very cool sign, I'd like to show you a picture, very much like the t-shirt in this link.

I'd love to show a picture but it was stolen last night.

Undoubtedly by a member of the Minnesota Taliban, the ones pushing the Adam-And-Eve-Not-Adam-And-Steve-And-How-Does-That-Work-Anyhow-Not-That-I'm-At-All-Curious-'Cuz-I'm-So-Very-Macho-And-God-Fearing-DON'T-OPEN-THAT-DVD-CASE!! Amendment.


Dear Sir/s,

That was very clever, stealing the sign from our front yard, while we were in our living room, having supper and watching TV. You have a great deal to be proud of! I certainly would be incapable of showing the lack of respect for another's right to promote a cause that you did, and it is clear that you are much cooler than I am.

I have ordered another sign, it should be in my yard already. If, after 8 beers and a healthy beating of your wife, you decide to again prove that you are the better man, I'll order another sign. And another, ad infinitum, thus giving you the chance to prove to your buddies just how amazing you are, and how much neater your magic skyman is than my Flying Spaghetti Monster. I'm  like that, I'm a giver. You're welcome, no thanks are necessary.

I am also not going to be driven to anger over your brave acts. Oh, sure, it will cause some annoyance, cost me some time and money, I'm not going to jump for joy over it. But, not anger. I'll pity you, I know it's not the same as anger, not quite as satisfying for you, but I can only give so much of me, and all I can feel is pity for you. I'd be happy to discuss the issue with you, knowing I won't be changing my vote and suspecting I'll be unlikely to change your vote, but I pride myself on a certain civility. But barring such eventuality, my feeling toward you will remain pity, pity because you allow your life to be ruled by fear, a need for conformity and submission to authority, an inability to think creatively, a total lack of empathy. It's gotta be tough to keep up that level of hatred, and I'm sorry you've come to live in such misery.

Please take care,


Vignette From A Morning Go-To-Work

Trying to get ready for work, paleo, proud owner of a slight ankle sprain and wearing a strap-on... ankle brace, is tying laces. Not in a huge rush, but a task must be accomplished.

Queen Maisy, sacred diva bitch cat of the Paleo household, is not going to allow that procedure to go unencumbered, and so latches on to the laces, hanging on for dear life.

paleo: "Goddamit, you have pieces of string, fake mice, and catnip widgets everywhere, and this is what you have to play with?!?

Mrs. paleo: Laughs

Life is good...

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

If You've Ever Met The Right One...

...the heart leaps, the leg tingles, the p-

(Nooo, honey! The contractor, goddam it. Chillen sie!)

As I was saying, I may have met the right one, contractor for my basement. Let me esplain - no, that will take too long, let me sum up.

Teh Paleo homestead, ranch style, only without dressage horses, has a finished basement. Finished in the sense that it is considered livable space - MN laws do some spelling out. What they do not spell out is that the space be done capably or efficiently, and my basement is neither. Veni vidi vici, it is not finished to me, and I wish to do some mild rearranging.

So, my obviously jealous sweetheart -

(Seriously?!? Ummm, honey, I'm straight. The only naked thing I want to see is you. Plus, he looked like Fred Durst. Alleged singer. For alleged rock band Limp Biskit. Yes, he's a douchebag. Excellent. May I continue? Oh, whiskey and diet pepsi, please, thanks, babe!)

                                                          - have decided to create the tiny space of our dreams. She gets her master bedroom and fireplace, we get a corner tub and dual sink bathroom, I get my entertainment center - bigscreen, blueray, stereo, stripper pole...   ...   ...I've just been informed that we will not be revisiting the stripper pole conversation. I mean, of course, we will, I've never asked for much, but it does not bode well for simple lil' paleo. Rats. 


We've been soliciting some prices/bids/whatevertehhell you'd call them from contractors, and it has not been an entirely satisfying experience. One of them doesn't really seem to want the business, or so we judged from their tragic inability to operate phones. 

One seemed a bit above it all as I was guiding him through our needs, not aware that I could damn well do the whole damn thing myself, but have some money and don't have the time. I know what I'm talking about, and my need for help and advice does not mean my only exposure to this stuff is Bob The Builder.

(Sweetums is setting up Netflix for dinner. Imma suggesting Nude Nuns With Big Guns [really, check it out] but again, I've never asked for much, but it does not bode well for simple lil' paleo.)

A third I have yet to actually meet with, she has my rough drawings but needs to experience the specialness first hand. 

(Oooh. Jim Gaffigan, Mr. Universe. OK!)

But, the fourth contractor I spoke to was in this morning, and the vibe so much was very good. He was the first to actually redo my measurements, not that anything is wrong with my roughs but I really appreciate the attention to detail, he informed me of a couple things I did not know as I was shooting out ideas (unfortunately, potentially spendy things - pppbbbllfftttt!) - I was seriously pleased. Still have to see his price, of course...

Gots to get back to laundry, fudge. Please enjoy this little weird thingy!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Have I Mentioned My Wife Is Wonderful?

It's coming up on my birthday. 

Which birthday? 

In the world of Logan's Run, I've unfortunately been dead for a bit. (Oh, but Jenny Agutter. Ooof.)

Our lives have been insanely busy and complicated since before the engagement, before the wedding, actually since we've known each other, and we, well, I, have a tendency to miss the forests due to a desire to burn down every individual tree, in a craftsman-like manner. My sweetheart got it into her head to fix that for a bit, get away, remember that really, its all about us and fuck the details. God I love this woman!

She, being possessed of a second X chromosome, is a fair bargain hunter, and we belong to Groupon, Angie's List, Hot Deals On Untraced Items (not sure about that one), and my newest, favouritest website, Living Social, where she found a deal on a get-away-from-everything weekend that was simply brilliant.

Getting away from it all for 36 hours was all she was really after, so she picked Fennimore, WI, a 5 hour drive for us, over an hour from any serious metro area, down in the hollers and coulees of unglaciated SW Wisconsin, with only a few simple little things to do in the area, just looking for peace. Good lord did we find it!

The Fenway House Hotel/Silent Woman Saloon is a turn-of-the-20th-century Hotel, recently re-opened and improved, and while she still has stuff to do, it is absolutely wonderful, rooms with corner jacuzzis, cali king size beds (you may ask "What do newlyweds need with a three acre bed?" Well, a lot of accessories, generator, block and tackle...) The Silent Woman Saloon bar and restaurant is on the first floor and under. The artwork is a headless serving woman, and given the fact that I'm a weirdo and okay with it, I asked if the artwork referred to any possible haunting activity. They replied that, except for maybe a touch of ethereal goodness in one room, it is not, the name was taken from a pub in London, and they are not advertising themselves as a haunted getaway. Phooie.

The service was perfect, the food incredible - Honey had maybe the best prime rib I've ever tasted, I had a piece of pan-seared walleye that was (almost) better than pick-yer-own-vice. Sweetie is gluten-intolerant, and so we, as we must, asked the waitress about grains content in the food and settled on our choices. The waitress then returned - on her own initiative, she had inquired further in the kitchen, specifically, the sauce for the shrimp scampi, and felt it might present an issue, and so informed us. We were quite grateful, and even more surprised when the chef, on his own initiative, made a batch of scampi without sauce, so just garlic and butter. Lovely people!

The bartender, Nate, a fine, stout fellow, introduced my Darling to the products of the Whispering Winds Winery, just outside Fennimore, (and the next day, Babe introduced my credit card to the winery - a lot of good wines, grape and fruit, and one called Purple Stuff, which I suspect is a bottled hangover [if enough were to be inebriated], but love the name.) I was able to watch a bit of real baseball, Brewers-Astros, with the BrewCrew slapping around the damnable texans 7-1. A couple of older farm wives came in late, for their Friday night rum and cokes, in their best cougar dresses, with the best quote of the night: "We may be a bunch of old ladies, but we've been around...a long time!"

The next day, we tooled around the area a little bit. The Whispering Winds Winery, did a wine tasting and enthusiastic bout of purchasing. Rural Route 1 gift shop and gourmet popcorn shop, lots of neat little kitschy stuff, including my Packers and Badgers, a cool variety of flavored popcorns (and yummy). She got an ice cream at the local cafe, half peanut-butter/chocolate, half mint chocolate chip, I even took a little bite. We spent the evening in the hot tub, me with gin and Diet Dew, her with her newly purchased wine cellar, watching 'The Fifth Element', relaxing in the AC and snugglebunnies.

On the way home Sunday morning, we went to my hometown and had a breakfast dinner with my parents, and my brother and his family, had not seen my parents since Christmas so it was fantastic. My youngest nephew, 4 y.o., got restless as little rugrats will, and eventually began begging anyone for money for a video game, and my mother, his Oma, leapt to his rescue and gave him a dollar. He came back in 5 minutes with a piece of paper, a receipt, and said he'd lost. He gave the receipt to me when I asked for it, and it said won 100 cr. Now confused, I got up and asked him to take me to the game. It was in the restaurant bar and was video slots! Near as I can tell, he put in the dollar, played a game, and won the dollar back, and being 4, and now well on his way to a criminal future, did not know what it meant. The host graciously refunded the dollar without arresting me, so all was well.

Just a neat little weekend. To my Sweetheart (who reads my little bits of doggerel), 

Thank you so much, Babe, and I love you!!! 

"I Have To Go To Tashi Station And Pick Up Those Pooper Converters"

I haz a dumb thought. This being a blog, I feel as if I must share.

Star Wars.

The Death Star, size of a small moon. Anywhere between 1000 and 100,000 guys, well, now, charred corpses, in white plastic armor, and a rapidly rotating cast of military leaders.

The Aluminum Falcon, somewhat smaller. The home to two ruffians IN SPACE. Smuggling, living the high life, space hookers and blackjack. Living on space beer and Astro-Quik-E-Mart burritos.

My thought? One word, read as a question.


Friday, July 6, 2012

Are These People Cried Out Yet?

Teh Sadlies are kicking around Mark Steyn, writer for the National Review Online (no link - hang 'em), and his column Constitutional Contortions. Yet another exercise in right-wing victimology, I won't touch much upon Cerberus's thorough dismantling of the steaming pile of mushroom food. But I do want to repeat and expand a bit on a comment* I made there in response to her speculation

Not to mention that for as much of a political victory this was, I imagine in a purely cold political calculation, running against the fuckers gleefully celebrating denying people health care would have been the easiest fucking campaign in the world and possibly one even Democrats couldn’t have fucked up.

"Cerb, yer brilliant, and I’ve started a couple religions for you, but I gots to quibble. First off, I think the Democratic party could fuck up scrambled eggs given a chicken and a 90 foot cliff. Second, I don’t see that political calculation. I don’t believe there are many ‘undecideds’ in this years politickling, at least undecideds who typically/plan to vote. Each side will be able to pick up a few low info voters, maybe, but I think that very few likely voters were going to have their opinions swayed by this ruling alone.
Lotta anger – I myself have been trying to approach things with a bit of a sense of humor, as, for example, it does no one’s career any good to argue with coworkers, nor family relationships. These are very easy tangles for me to get into as I am known to be somewhere’s to the left of, well, everybody on earth, but after the mindboggling hissy-fits yesterday (“this is the last Independence Day in US history” “Google picked a commie anthem for an avatar on July 4″ “Health care is doublegestaposeptembereleventhedaythemusicdied”) I have lost my cherub-like demeanor."
Those statements, while not specific quotes attributable to actual sociopaths, are accurate. And hell, those are not even the choice cuts from the Wingnut Family Barbecue And Annual Teabagging Festival. Aspiring NY congressman - Health Care Reform is not needed because people don't die of cancer anymore. Another National Reviewer, "most of the world worked better in colonial times". 
I am good and damn sick of having my patriotism questioned, mine and that of those whose opinions I share, those who I am influenced by, and those who I influence, by complete goddam lunatics. To quote Ed Kilgore (please read this now):
But I’m no longer going to quietly accept lectures on patriotism from people who hate my country because they don’t rule it and my vote is equal to theirs.
Another point I want to make. IMPORTANT - IANAL, take this with a large a grain of salt as you wish. Like most politically aware folks, I have followed the health care decision closely as well as the followup reporting not done by Fox of CNN, including legal analysis. An Iowa pundit, Jeff Stein, doing his weekly report on Matt McNeil, our local station (AM950) morning host, said something I had not heard before, about the burden of the Supreme Court. 
Paraphrasing, if  a law comes through the congress and ends up for review before the USSC, they are to make the presumption that it is constitutional, and then apply the legal test to any reasons that may void that presumption. Which is, what it seems, Justice Roberts did. And it is not a full win - by ruling the PPACA a tax, it opens up whole new worlds of potential congressional abuse, not to mention that it makes the Act itself easier to repeal if the government changes hands. Does not change the fact that Roberts is an evil bastard, but it seems he did his job correctly. 
The other 4 conservative justices (and can we stop with the fiction that Kennedy is a swing vote? Maybe on one or two privacy issues, but even then no.) were in it to gut the Act entirely, and their opinion just window dressing, because it might look political if their joint issued opinion was 4 words - "No. Go pound sand.", or "Die Quick And Poor."
*Edited here somewhat for narrative cohesion.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Air Conditioning Works...Therefore, Aliens

Teh sun has passed its focal point for the day, as has the point where paleo's life gets complicated in ways not involving oral sex or whiskey.

I just needed to take the time to point out that anyone who likes summer is a potential axe-murderer and shellfish molester, and that the guy who invented summer needs to be dug up, re-animated, and beaten to death because, you know, zombies.

Everything is better with Barenaked Ladies.