sweasel.com

Oh, excellent: Peggy Noonan is damn good today.

Whipped butter bacon? Hmmm, whipped bacon butter…

That sounds pretty damn good.

Back in a while …

Goo-boy. Swell. I’m going to be blaming Greggie for this, irrespective of the fact I earned it for giving him snark.

Sweez? Wea? M’Lady Stoat-Badger?

Noonan is good. The Lib-Left PC idiots have managed to turn reality on its head, blithely ignorant of the fact that – unlike rhetorical philosophical arguments and intellectual idealisms (their stock-in-trade) – objective reality is not usually a reciprocal function. More like a one-way function.

Weaz-El, (heh – kinda like Jor-El) I’m not convinced your real estate agent is showing quite the enthusiasm and confidence I would want in a representative. Then again, she may be telling the truth in an odd, bas-ackwards way. The market does suck somewhat right now.

Hmmm. Weaz-El: Superman’s aunt on his fathers’ side? Once a member of the Kryptonian Council until she mooned the entire body over some minor issue.

I watched Superman Returns t’other day with some trepidation (modern superhero movies, on the whole, tend to be shit) and was pleasantly surprised. Brandon Routh undertook the role of Clark Kent/Superman and I’m not queer or anything…but damn. And Kevin Spacey made a pretty good Lex Luthor (though not as good as Gene Hackman, obviously).
Maybe it’s because the series couldn’t get any more fucking stupid than Superman IV: The Quest for Peace. Maybe it was a solidly acted, produced and directed film. Maybe it was a bit of both. But I eagerly anticipate Superman: Man of Steel.

Weas is a shitload better than Auntie. Auntie is a nickname of the BBC. It’d be preferable to have an association with Neurosyphilis than those bedwetting, extortionate, propagandising turds.

re: Noonan. Yikes, WEAS — I wrote something a little different before I sauntered over here. Don’t get me wrong, I usually like Noonan.

w00t! Blog war…I answered you over there. But I’ll repeat a little of it here, because it involves one of my favorite EVER paragraphs.

When Al Gore was stopped at a security checkpoint in 2002, Ann Coulter wrote a column about how that showed what a complete sham our security measure are. Clearly, if we’re hassling a former Vice President through security, the purpose is not to prevent terrorism.

Searching Al Gore is a purely religious act. It is the purposeless, fetishistic performance of rituals in accordance with the civic religion of liberalism.

I wish I’d written that phrase.

America likes that Coulter paragraph as well!

America is now about to call the utility company about America’s frigid hot water heater because America just discovered that they swapped out the gas meter yesterday and blew out the pilot light. America is both annoyed and now rather annoying.

America just discovered that they swapped out the gas meter yesterday and blew out the pilot light.

Gotta put that through the Noonanizer:

America just discovered that they swapped out the gas meter yesterday and blew out the pilot light…of freedom.

Mortimer. I love that name.
Plant a St. Joseph’s statue in your yard weasel. People swear by it.

The husband just called. He set up an appointment with the warranty people on our mattress. We bought the thing 5 years ago and within the first year, it developed a huge dent where my ass sleeps. Thing is, my ass isn’t close to huge. When these people come to measure the dent and my ass, they will give us a comparable mattress. Huh?

*whining* But I don’t want another Serta, I want a Simmons!

I like Noonan’s article for the most part. This line is what bugs me –

He has never had to live in the world he helped make

If she is talking about the people Bush appointed that set the whole scanning grandmas, can’t profile, thing into motion, then maybe okay – he is fighting the uphill battle with the dems and ACLU over necessary profiling.
But if she is talking about him being a part of 9/11 and the continued jihadists who caused the whole business, then no.

Concur with Noonan. It is hard enough getting two toddlers on the plane, the carry-on luggage, two child seats, tickets, toys, etc. But then to get patted down? C’mon, when looking for a rapist you don’t go around shaking down septegenarian women, you profile. No one complains there. And as a guy I’m not going to stand up and bitch about guys being targeted (what I will do is hold the SOB down until someone else can take a shot at him). Why can you not do that here?

Riiiiight, we might offend someone.

Wait. I missed something before.

Your company has a… cafeteria? Really and truly?

Masseuse, sauna, facial peel, gym, etc.?

Just for pancake day alone I’d sign on.

We have a gift shop (why? I don’t know!) and an ATM machine. Apparently, there was a masseuse once. The company didn’t pay for it, but he came onto company property. This office is a little flaky like that. The food at this one is pretty meh though.

Up until about nine months ago, I worked in the Boston office. Now, THAT was a cafeteria! When I got my coffee in the morning, they’d be cutting up the vegetables for the soup and salad bar by hand because they thought using a food processor was cheating.

Oh, I miss them. They made excellent hot entrees, deli stuff…and weird-ass homey food like meatloaf and PB&J sammiches. Partly subsidized, too, so it was cheap.

And we had theme days and cupcakes and…oh, the corporate life is the life for me!

Your old places sounds nice.
Ooo..cupcakes. Fun.
We used to have cupcake day once a month in grade school. Different mothers from different grades would be asked to make a dozen or so to sell with the proceeds going to buy school stuff. Noone caught hepatitus or TB or e coli.
Nowadays, you’d go to jail for feeding someone other than your kid a homemade cupcake. F*cking food nazis…and TB-ridden illegals.

Just heard a story on NPR (I listen because…Know Thine Enemy) and the sob story of the hour…..

An American woman and the guy she wanted to marry could not get married in the great state of Georgia because he didn’t have a SS card. Why? Because he was an undocumented worker.

Get that? Undocumented worker.

That’s NPR codespeak for ILLEGAL ALIEN.

Apparently it’s a sobbing tragedy, the fact that he doesn’t have the right to marry who he wants to in this country.

An American woman and the guy she wanted to marry could not get married in the great state of Georgia because he didn’t have a SS card. Why? Because he was an undocumented worker.

I’ll be honest with you: sounds to me like she could do with a little marriage counseling …

Stupid woman.

It is coming to the point that Pakistanis are refusing to accept a proposal unless the other person has a green card. So many people get married — whether sending a proposal or accepting one — simply for a green card, especially with which they can make their citizen spouse sponsor the entire family (person by person, of course) to come over.

Which is one reason why my former wife’s family accepted our proposal: they saw it as their ticket out of Pakistan.

Whipped butter bacon.
It’s Pancake Friday at work.
One comma too few.

It’s Pancake Friday
Pass the butter bacon, please!
And hand me the lard.

It’s just the same here, PNB. One of things I like about Summer are the many village fetes we have here, where, to support the local church or cats’ home or whatever, people make and sell the most wonderful jams and preserves and cakes (yes fruit cakes ) that can be found.

We’ve been doing this for hundreds of years – maybe thousands, who knows? Not many have died.

All of a sudden ‘health and safety’ threatens generations of industry, charity, culture, community, gentleness and all that is the sweetest and most comfortable in human society.

It’s the mark of the Left. They destroy evrything good that they touch.

Warning: I am very sleepy.

O/T, but sorta related to earlier discussion of Anglophone superiority: While the boy and I were in Italy, we went to Florence. On the way back, on the train, I happened to notice a guy near us who had his laptop open. I recognized the diagram & equation he was looking at as something biology-related (I forget what now; I think it had to do with molecular transport), and watched in interest as he paged through what was evidently a biology lecture from his university course.

The really interesting thing was that while most of the lecture was in Italian (which I had fun trying to translate), several slides were entirely in English, and a few slides switched from Italian to English mid-slide when describing a complex topic. I wonder if that is because Italian doesn’t have the same technical vocabulary as English (I seem to recall that most German technical words are just cognates of the English words, though sometimes it is the other way around, as in the case of the EKG [Elektrokardiogramm] [we now call it the ECG, but it was called the EKG for a long time]). If so, that kinda sucks for anyone who wants to go into technical stuff and isn’t a native English speaker – you pretty much have to learn English. Or Japanese, now that I think about it…

Sorta related to the above: I have heard an amusing and possibly true story about one of the first times Russian engineers met up with NASA engineers. The translator wasn’t technical, so when the American engineers spewed technobabble at him, he just looked confused. Then the Russian engineers spewed their technobabble, and the poor translator was totally lost. So the engineers pushed the translator aside and communicated through the engineering drawings.

Also on the topic of engineers, and link-whoring, I have a humorous youtube video about engineers and cats embedded at my site. The Weas will probably like it. I howled with laughter at several parts.

And finally, I am going to bed. ‘Night, all.

Yes Uncle B, they destroy everything they touch because they are psychotic busybodies. They want to set the rules and control your behavior so that they don’t have to change their own. They don’t want to give up their dope, their gay ‘lifestyle’, their child porn, their bad hygiene, or their guilt-ridden catering to the third world no matter what eradicated disease they reintroduce.

I would proclaim a pox on all of their houses, but I’m sure they have to apply a variety of prescription strength creams already.

Heee! That was fun, Mrs P. It’s 4 am on a Saturday, and I’m up why? I’m up because I have a cat door, which is all kinds of trouble some days. I just caught Damien sharing Friskies with some cat I’ve never seen before. Charlotte would never stand for that.

It was probably a half brother or sister of Charlotte’s, actually. One of my neighbors has an unspayed tuxedo kitty who always seems to be pregnant. I’ve tried to catch her between litters, but she’s too wary of me. My neighborhood is lousy with black and white pussoes.

Dragged from my bed a mere three and a half hours after I collapsed into it (I have an automatic vent ‘issue’ in my new greenhouse, thanks for asking) Mrs Peel’s cat video was exactly what I needed.

Thanks, Mrs Peel. Wonderful 🙂

That was really good, Mrs. P!

RE: the Italian student – that’s occurred to me often in my career. How would I do if I had to learn engineering/science/technical stuff totally in a foreign language? My first thought is “I’d flunk out quick,” but then I realize the math (universal language) and the drawings and diagrams (ditto) would save me.

And I’ve witnessed two engineers/scientists who did not share a common language communicate quite well – just the way you describe. Lots of scribbles and hand-waving!

It’s similar with artists. We get together and wear black and chainsmoke and say things like, “pff!” and “eh!”

It’s the universal language of ennui.

Yep. Opiate users of different nationalities usually limit themselves to an occasional bleary-eyed “Whoa…”.

When I kept cats, I always wanted a cat door, Stoaty. But the image of something large, wild, hungry, and hostile creeping into my home always deterred me.

I even designed a tiny UHF radio-collar and e-latch for the cat door to keep unauthorized visitors out – but it wouldn’t keep out close followers like your “guest cat”, or anything (for that matter) that tried to get in while the cat was within rf-range of the door. So I never built it.

At a conference a few years ago, I was walking across campus with a very urbane, sophisticated Parisian gentleman and a short, rumpled, popeyed little Russian; attempting to discuss issues of the day outside the technical subject of the conference and not doing to well.

So, to lighten the mood, I decided to tell an old joke: “What do you call a person who speaks three languages?” and received nothing but blank looks in return, so supplied the answer, “Trilingual,” and asked the next question: “What do you call someone who speaks two languages?” and by now the Parisian had caught on and spouted “Bilingual!”

And when I ask the final question, “What do you call a person who only speaks one language?” the little Russian burbled about a bit with his eyes popping this way and that, and finally erupted with “An American!”

As the only American in the group, I was a little disappointed to have the punchline stolen, but they enjoyed it.

Come to think of it, I’m not so sure the Russian’s Russian was all that good either.

…Which for some reason reminded me of the scene from “Dick Tracy” where “Mumbles” (Dustin Hoffman) is being interrogated in the presence of a stenographer – who cannot understand a single word he says.

Yep. Opiate users of different nationalities usually limit themselves to an occasional bleary-eyed “Whoa…”.

Just remember, Goo-boy, that once you’ve been percolated, you’ll never go back to opiates!

Yeah, it cracked me up, too. Glad you guys liked it.

EW1, an oldie but a goodie!

You know what else I wonder about? How difficult is it to be an engineer if you are color-blind? For example, wouldn’t you have trouble with resistor color coding? Diagrams wouldn’t be that bad, unless they used red and green to distinguish something important, but resistors would be impossible. I guess that’s what multimeters are for, but still.

I wonder what well-percolated folks utter? Or do they just moan quietly?

Mrs. P – the military kinda stopped using color-code quite a while back, for that reason and the fact that color vision craps out quickly in dim lighting, so the bands can’t always be read easily or accurately. Also – the standard tolerance is 1% so you need an extra band for the extra digit of value specified so the stripes get kinda busy.

They print the value on the part package in itty-bitty lettering (that I can no longer read unaided).

…and so now it’s impossible to read the value at all unless the (leaded) parts are inserted with the values showing. Chip/surface-mount parts are readable, though.

I’ve worked with two men who were colorblind. Bear in mind, I work in the art department.

One was my boss. He was forever making us redesign graphs so that colorblind people could read them. I’m like, dude, these are PRIMARY COLORS. Colors just don’t get any differenter than that.

True dat, McGoo. I have seen resistors in that style at Fry’s and other local electronics stores. But I do still have a big box of old-school color-striped resistors…

that I can no longer read unaided

Ain’t that the truth.

Mrs. Peel:

I guess that’s what multimeters are for, but still.

I interviewed for a job in 1987, and the little quiz they gave me asked for the value of some resistor color codes. When I handed the quiz back to the interviewer, I told her that I didn’t have a clue what the color codes meant~I learned them in ET school, but promptly forgot them because every shop I ever worked in had a chart on the wall.

And, as Goo-boy points out, MIL-SPEC resistors are coded with the value in an alphanumeric fashion anyway. (But I can never remember the code, so I just grab a multimeter.) Although, when he says:

Chip/surface-mount parts are readable, though.

he’s full of crap. (I can solder together a broken 6µ single strand copper wire, and if I can’t read the part number at 125X under a $50K Nikon stereo microscope, then its unreadable! As most of them are nowadays. 🙁 )

Goo-boy:

I wonder what well-percolated folks utter? Or do they just moan quietly?

Mostly we just sit and pine for coffee.

Okay, Steamboat McGoo, I’m sorry for that riposte and humbly grovel at your feet. If I had an opportunity to take it back I would – alas, I’m short a Mr Fusion and a flux capacitor (stuff the DeLorean, I figure a bicycle would do just as well).

I’ll be a good boy from now on. Honest. Not a single blue word. Really.

English as a language does not really exist. What you have is a bunch of yobos and yahoos all over the world who pretend they’re speaking English – of some sort. That’s because English is a robber’s language, spread by a nation of pirates – but excellent administrators, I gotta hand them that much. You’re never going to convince me that Singlish, Japlish, Manglish, Engrish, Appalachian-redneck-speakish and Queen’s English, not to mention whatever the heck the Cockneys speak, have too much in common with each other.

My company doesn’t have much in the way of perks, but Month-End drinks (yes, every month) at their expense tend to make up for everything else. As do the Christmas Parties.

Here are a few pictures of the Christmas party if you’re interested.

Good lord! It’s a bunch of pictures of lovely and exotic young ladies. Interested? McGoo is likely to pop his truss!

If you mean “Goo Boy,” don’t apologize, Gregory. I love it. It sounds like a particularly unpleasant superhero. His villain counterpart would be The Slimer. Or The Hose, perhaps.

Oddly, of all those, Appalachian-redneck-speakish are the ones probably speaking closest to the Queen’s English — If the Queen in question is Elizabeth I, that is. Apparently, some VERY old language constructs survived in them thar hills.

Hey! Nice photos. Looks like some Teeth People honorable-mentions for sure. I’m in the market for a new Teeth People Standard Reference – since the NBS has not seen fit to create one yet. Keep your eyes open…

I especially like the breast-grabber guy, and ALL the good-looking babes. You know a lot of good-looking babes, GtheF, so you can’t possibly be a complete asshole. Unless you’re rich, in which case you probably are a complete asshole, and still know a lot of good-looking babes.

Goo Boy suites me. I’ve been called way worse – with good reason, usually. But if you don’t mind, I will not be using the ‘chink-boy’ nickname because it’s racist and I don’t tend to swing that way, and I don’t care to use it – not that that should concern anyone else.

Somehow that didn’t come out right. Did I kill a thread again?

When my wife and I lived in a condo, I installed a cat-door in the door to our garage, then put the litter box out there. I couldn’t get the cats to try the door; they balked and struggled when I, in exasperation, tried shoving them through it to give them the idea.

Later, while I was applying iodine and bandaids to my arms, it dawned on me that there were two sides to the door. I put both cats out in the garage, and suddenly they were einsteins, and the cat-door was a great success.

McGoo! Say it isn’t so! No more Bad Boys Rape Our Young Girls Behind Victory Garden Walls (But Violet Gives Willingly)?

Oh, and sorry I’ve been gone for a while. I blame good weather.

Whoa! I learned the parenthetic one. Heh. From dear ol’ dad when I was about nine, I think. Haven’t seen it written out in years.

Oh, they still put stripes on ’em, jwp, – – some brands/styles/types. But you’ll see less and less of ’em: lots of the stuff is surface-mount now, which doesn’t use color code at all that I know of.

I don’t think they’ll go away completely for another generation or so – if at all.

Even a good bit of hobby stuff is SM now. It’s not that hard to assemble if you’re young and have good eyes – or you’re old like me and own an ass-kicker magnifier with light!

yobos

Is that something like “yobbos” with “aw” sound, or more like “hobos?” (Enquiring minds…)

jwpaine, had the cat door set so the old guy could get in after being let out but wouldn’t let the little one out until she had all her shots.

Now that she’s had ’em, set the door to go both ways, and the older watches her go out, then looks at me like, “HOW DID SHE DO THAT?!?”

Oh, and if anybody sees LK, tell him that my wildflower scented deodorant soap is a Swiss formula, thank you very much!

I’m-a thinkin’ ‘hobos’. Just to keep with the moronblogger theme.

OK, Goo-boy wasn’t exactly the best thing I ever came up with, but no, I was talking about the verbal diarrhoea afterwards more than anything else.

And alas, I am nor rich. Less than a grand to my name. in USD, that is. And considering the amount I eat, no, not completely an asshole. 1/3rd, at best. 😉 I do need a mouth, a stomach and a vestigially functioning digestive system otherwise, after all…

And them drag queens definitely not ladies, in any sense of the word, as you can plainly see in the photos…