I have this here megaphone and I’m not afraid to use it
Last week, National Review called for a truce between McCain’s supporters and the flaming wingnut contingent, of which IR1.
I was going to go along — really, what’s the point of taking shots now? — but I had second thoughts. What if a McCain supporter says something that really torques me off seconds after I take the pinkie swear? My spleen would explode. I like my spleen. So, no. No promises.
But I’m not grinding any axes yet, either. I’m still doing math. Which is more dangerous: a misguided man who achieves many of his goals, or a very misguided man who achieves few of his goals?
Then there’s my other question: which is more insignificant, my vote or my blog?
Over sixty-three million people voted in the last presidential election, but there are over ninety million blogs. So, if my math is correct (and it never is) my vote is 1/180,000,000ths more significant than my blog.
But there’s more to it than math. What if one or more of you silly boo-boos actually writes in Zombie Reagan for president? Then my blog becomes several sixty-three millionths more powerful than my vote.
Uneasy lies the head that wears the…you know. The hat. The hat thing with the bells on.
February 20, 2008 — 6:51 pm
Comments: 42
Just resting my eyes
I had a whole weekend of delightful moving and packing planned, then a friend Skyped yesterday morning and said, “wanna go hiking?” And I’m, like, “Tcha!”
We hiked around Arcadia all day, one of the best forests in Rhode Island (of which, believe it or not, there are many). Then we managed to drop $50 on pizza (my friend has a seriously messed up eyes to stomach ratio; I have enough cold pizza in the ‘fridge to last me to Wednesday). Then I stayed up late drinkin’ and watchin’ the Towering Inferno on DVD.
All in all, Saturday was an island of happy in a sea of meh! Now it’s Sunday and I’m footsore and seriously behind.
You?
February 17, 2008 — 10:19 am
Comments: 51
Neener-neener-neener! w00t!
I have…productivity issues. I’m sure I could have accomplished great things in my life, were I not so…utterly…butt-lazy. And there’s that alcohol thing, too.
I started sweasel.com in October ’06 on WordPress, and a very uneven job I made of it. When I moved to my own URL, I had a personal goal: to pull at least one post out of my ass every weekday for a year. Just to see if I could do it.
Well today, I am a man.
Ummm…whatever. I did it! It’s a year today!
Oh, sure…some of those posts were pretty lame. Okay, a lot of them were very lame. Sometimes, Weekend Weasel is all you got on a Friday. But, hey, those weasels don’t Photoshop themselves, you know. And sometimes, you got two lame posts out of me in a day!
Well, onward and outward. For Year Two, my goal is…
Oh, shit. I don’t have a goal for Year Two.
Ummm…happy Valentine’s Day!
February 14, 2008 — 6:25 am
Comments: 31
A week full of rats and tits
Meh. No proper post today. Enjoy some awesome rats and tits!
February 8, 2008 — 6:55 pm
Comments: 55
Crassest of the 48
This week’s Weekend Weasel is late on parade. Uncle B kept me up past my drunktime last night trying to extract my opinion on the layout of the garden, now that the season is upon us. And I’m, like, “the garden. That’s where the plants go, right?”
I was scheduled for an all-day Division meeting Friday. So I was delighted when my dentist’s office called the day before to remind me of an appointment. A cleaning, but I’d take a filling over a division meeting. First thing…after which I could indulge a slow mosey into my meeting.
How slow does a weasel mosey when a weasel moseys slow? I stopped for breakfast afterwards. In the booth next to me were two young, affluent wives. And by “affluent” I mean “blessed with an enormous amount of money hindered in no way by taste.” There’s lots of very crass money ’round these parts.
So one of them takes a cellphone call from (apparently) her electrician. The Rhode Island accent is sort of like Brooklyn, only loud and vulgar, so this is more barked than spoken.
“Yah…put the switch on that far wall. Yah. Next to the other switch. Yah. I want a dimmer on the chandeleeeer. So, you put the switch right next to that other switch. Uh huh. It turns on the jets on the jacoooozzi.”
What kind of room has a jacuzzi and a chandelier? I don’t know, but I would’ve guessed it was in Rhode Island.
So I get to the meeting just in time for the free lunch. I only have to sit through a couple of dozy afternoon speeches. They don’t call me ‘weasel’ in tones of hushed admiration for nothin’.
The highlight? The Human Resources lady (Human Resources! I hate it when Personnel changed their name…it makes us sound like lumber or something).
She says we’ve hooked up with the American Women Engineers’ Society. Or the Society of Women Engineers. Or Vaginas with Sliderules or whatever. I thought we only had one female engineer, but apparently we’ve picked up a few more. Anyhow, we’ve assembled a team of five female engineers to “travel around the country exposing themselves to the engineering community.”
Judging from the reaction at the meeting, the engineering community will appreciate that very much.
February 2, 2008 — 10:20 am
Comments: 10
Timberrrrrrrrr!
Last step, while there’s an opening for machinery: hacking away the hedge that separates Badger House from the miles of sheep behind. I sort of liked the Secret Garden look it had surrounded on all four sides by high green walls, but the hedge at the back wasn’t appropriate (Leyland Cypress, a North American transplant) and the view is spectacular.
Wind seldom blows from that quarter, but it’s exceptionally bitter when it does. We’ll have to see what sort of windbreak we can get away with.
And so ends Shit Week on a bucolic note.
January 25, 2008 — 7:27 pm
Comments: 19
Brrrr…scary!
January 18, 2008 — 11:15 pm
Comments: 41
The weaselbone connected to the hambone
January 11, 2008 — 11:25 pm
Comments: 41
But enough about me…
HANK: Luanne, sometimes life throws you a curve ball. Now there’s two ways you can deal with it. You can cry — and that’s the path you’ve chosen — or you can not cry.
LUANNE: How do you not cry?
HANK: Well, instead of letting it out, try holding it in. Every time you have a feeling, just stick it into a little pit inside your stomach and never let it out.
LUANNE (trying it): Are you supposed to have a pain under your rib?
HANK: Yes. That’s natural. The body doesn’t want to swallow its emotions. But now you go ahead and put that pain inside your stomach too.
LUANNE: I think it’s workin’, Uncle Hank. I feel sick, but not sad.— King of the Hill “Luanne’s Saga”
I’ve hardly been back 48 hours and I’m already bored stiff with my own whinging. Whinging. That’s Britspeak for “being a pussy.” AKA “big girl’s blouse.”
Okay, I don’t really get that one. Is it, like, “big girl’s blouse” or “big girl’s blouse“?
I do not know! Anyway, this moving thing has got me downer than down, but I’ll try not to be so much of a one. Big girl’s whatever. Must keep eyes on prize: a life of indolence and drunkenness undreamt-of since the ancient Boneless Empress of Upper Boozistan. Shhhh…don’t tell Uncle B!
Hey, how ’bout that Hillary Clinton?
January 9, 2008 — 11:52 pm
Comments: 17
Hello? Badger and Weasel’s Drunken Dishwasher Repair Service?
We didn’t so much fix it as…pour another stiff one and acknowledge its brokenness.
January 4, 2008 — 8:25 pm
Comments: 41