How to make an alien fossil computer mouse
A helpful video. I’m not sure why it takes thirty minutes to explain how to do this — I bet I could cut it down to a few snappy stills and some text — but I don’t really know as I haven’t watched it. No vids from work, you see.
The blog, DailyDIY looks like it’s worth keeping half an eye on, anyhow. It seems to involve a lot of knitting and gluing shit to other shit. Hooray!
It’s amazing what you learn looking for photographs of adorable fluffy rodents.
On a less felicitous note, I learned what a vaginal plug is and how to examine lady mice for them. I’d warn you not to Google it, but what’s the point?
December 10, 2007 — 3:21 pm
Comments: 39
There are a lot of places I COULD have gone with this graphic
You know, jw has a website of his own to feed. I’m so flattered when he saves the good stuff for me.
December 7, 2007 — 6:40 pm
Comments: 53
Pathetic loser asshole who couldn’t get laid or keep a minimum wage job
HEL-LO! People! We have GOT to stop turning these jerkwads into rock stars.
This useless punk walked into a mall and murdered eight of his betters because he got a little taste of adulthood and he wasn’t up to it. He wasn’t man enough to live with it, either. So he took the one snap-your-fingers path to instant tabloid celebrity. Why, even a loser like him can do it!
He left a note that COULD NOT HAVE BEEN more explicit: “I’m going out in style” — “I’m going to be famous.” It worked, too. Congrats, d00d, you’re the snootch-flashing Paris Hilton of underachievers.
If you’re tired of this shit, we’re collectively going to need a lot less COMPASSION and a lot more RIDICULE. They aren’t troubled into it. Or bullied into it. Nothing “drives them” to do these things but an awareness of their own inadequacy and a desire to get a badass headshot at the top of the Drudge Report.
Losers, not monsters. This is a twenty year old man who couldn’t keep a fast food job or a girl friend. Monster is a huge promotion for this ass. Monsters are scary and powerful. They make movies about monsters. Pimply ex-fry-cooks…not so much.
It doesn’t matter for this dweeb — he did the future McDonald’s customers and mall cops of Omaha a favor and took himself out, too. Do it for the other losers. You know they’re out there. Show them your contempt for what this moron chose to do. We can’t keep making mass murder an attractive exit strategy for weenies.
And use simple language. Remember, they’re losers.
December 6, 2007 — 10:13 am
Comments: 19
Boston has a innernets
Found among some papers tonight. No, this isn’t irony or anything. This is THE IN-TER-NET, coming to Massachusetts. Doot-de-doodly-doo!
Actually, I’d been on THE IN-TER-NET for almost a decade when I signed onto this service, but this really was a breakthrough for price and ubiquity of coverage. I think this was the mid-Nineties. The Usenet days. The Web existed, but it was still excruciatingly lame and boring and non-interactive.
The deal with Usenet, you could post under any name you liked, but your IP address was always in the header for everybody to see. That’s what made AOL such a popular trollhaven when it hit the ‘net: no matter who you were or where you posted from in the world, the IP address just resolved to plain old AOL.com. All AOL users looked alike. They could trash talk anonymously.
These people, this USAinternet thing, had dialup numbers in cities all over the country. When I posted from work (yeah…I had a dedicated outside phone line for data transfer…sweet), I dialled a local number and my IP resolved to something like powernet.boston.ma.com. And from home it was powernet.providence.ri.com.
Well, lots of ISPs used these same phone lines, I noticed. So, for the modest price of a long-distance phone call, I could make strange troll-y messages look, to anyone who paid attention, like they came from…whoever on Usenet happened to be irritating me at the moment.
Yeah. Hm. They don’t call me “weasel” for my silky fur and jaunty whiskers.
December 5, 2007 — 7:38 pm
Comments: 9
A cat person in a dog people family
“How did you turn out to be a cat person, anyhow?” my dad asked last week.
A good question, in a way. The whole famn damily is dog people. My siblings, my cousins, my natural mother, my unnatural stepmother, my vile Texas grandma and my sweet little bluehaired down Eastern grandm’ma. We found a jaunty poem about a dead cat in Grandmother’s personal papers. Shit you not.
On another level, it was an incredibly fucking stupid question to ask someone bleeding from a fresh dog bite.
Yeah. Stoathund here had a few practice snaps before moving in for some delicious stoatburger.
“See, if she decides something is hers, you’d better not mess with it,” my father explained patiently, like it was real stupid of me not to know that. Problem is, she decides something is hers VERY FAST. Like, in the blink of an eye. Like, the entire contents of the dishwasher. Which is a bitch if you’re loading it and aren’t really paying attention. Yeah, you load the dishwasher then, you smart-alecky old coot.
I should have been on guard. I’d seen her pull silverware out of the dishwasher and parade around waving it in the air like, “g’wan, weaselbreath — dare you to touch my spoon!” Ugh. I probably ate grapefruit with it next morning.
Do you know what they do when she gets hold of something like that? To get the whatever-it-is away from her? They give her a treat.
That’s right. When the dog acts like a shitbag, they reward her. Now, I am but an humble cat person, but even I know when you reward a dog for being a shitbag, you might as well rename her Ol’ Shitbag, because you’re going to get a LOT of shitbaggery out of that animal.
Whereas cats are shitbags out of sheer joy and professionalism.
December 4, 2007 — 6:28 pm
Comments: 57
Spaminated. Enspamnified. All spambled up.
Heh. Check out the #1 blog in the TTLB ecosystem: Grandfather Clocks Blog. “Whoa!” thinks Weasel, “with 58,541 hits to Michelle Malkin’s paltry 6,139, that site has to be a real hotbed of hot beds.”
It is, in fact, a boring site selling grandfather clocks. How they gamed the incoming links, I do not know.
I have a hate/hate relationship with TTLB. The rating system broke days after I started up this site, so I was a Jaunty Plague Bacillus or an Irregularly-Shaped Mole on your Ass or whatever it was for two months. And now it arbitrarily adds and removes links from me in a random way, irrespective of, you know, people linking to me and stuff.
I know, I know: all the cool kids pretend they don’t care about traffic. But it’s like that goddamned bear is messing with me or something.
December 3, 2007 — 5:44 pm
Comments: 24
Oops! Almost forgot Friday’s Weasel
Do y’all ever have that terrible dream where you squeeze and squeeze the trigger but the hammer never falls? Maybe it’s a girl thing.
Sorry about the pervasive lameness of posting lately. It’s going to continue like this for some time. My home life currently consists of sorting all my worldly goods into either shipping boxes or garbage bags. And now things are heating up at work, too.
You know, I don’t think anyone properly appreciates how difficult it is for a lazy person to get along in this crazy, crazy world.
November 30, 2007 — 7:17 pm
Comments: 61
Look, I’m a little sensitive about my snubby, okay?
Whoa! What’re the odds? That’s Enas Yorl and his brand new Smith & Wesson 686 onscreen in the background there, me and mine in the foreground…turns out Mr Minority has one and McGoo has one, too.
This is my bedside cannon. My “holy shit, lady, you aren’t kidding!” piece. It is very big and shiny. It makes an extremely loud bang. I suspect it would make exceedingly large holes in bad guys, but happily I’ve never had to test this theory.
When I moved to Rhode Island, I arrived unarmed and stayed that way for twenty years. I knew the rules were more restrictive up here in Yanquiland and I figured buying a gun wasn’t worth the trouble.
But then I bought a house on a corner lot. Sound travels funny here. Somebody slams a car door, it sounds like bad guys moving around in the basement. One night, I found myself creeping down the stairs clutching a tack hammer like Conan the Ovarian, and I thought, “this is too stupid.”
Turns out, while it’s nearly impossible to get a concealed carry permit in Rhode Island, all you need is a “blue card” to buy a gun and keep it in your home. To earn your blue card, you need to pass a background check and a written exam.
I am now going to tell you how to pass the written exam. Ready? Here’s the secret: there is no condition under which any gun can ever be considered unloaded. None whatever. Just fired six rounds out of a six shooter? Still loaded. Just completely disassembled your pistol into its umpty-ump constituent parts? Still loaded. Crushed it flat with a backhoe? Loaded. Aliens blew our lovely blue earth to smithereens and just as your lungs collapse in the cold nothingness of outer space a molten glob of metal that might possibly once have been your favorite revolver sails past your ear into the void? Count on it, it’s loaded.
Yup. See, they took the old common-sense recommendation that it’s safest to regard every gun as loaded and morphed it into a nonsensical declaration that every gun really is loaded all the time. Put your hand on your heart and say something stupid, and we’ll give you that blue card.
I wonder how many rosy-necked sons of the soil were too proud to say something that dumb to earn their papers?
November 29, 2007 — 5:45 pm
Comments: 69
Oh. Right. Thanksgiving.
My assorted brothers had spousal families to eat with in the afternoon, so we had a Thanksgiving brunchy thing.
Have you ever had riced eggs? My stepmother is generally a very good cook, but I don’t know about this one. You boil eggs and then “rice” them with a cheese shredder, make a roux and pour it over the top. “The boys fight over this,” she said. And I saw them do it, too, but damned if I can work out why.
Anyhow, she makes the only edible grits in the world. She makes them the regular bland way, then mixes in raw egg and cheese and bakes it. Nice. Basically, you melt cheese on something, I’m going to eat it. I’m an au gratin kind of a gal.
I got three jackets, two pairs of slacks (slacks! That I should wear slacks!), several tops, a skirt and five pairs of shoes out of the deal. I like two of the jackets and one of the pairs of shoes, so I’m going to call this a success.
Now I’ve essentially got two weeks to de-junkify this place. And a headcold, which I presumably picked up in the airport in Cincinnati. Yeah, I knew that germy infant in the seat in front of me was going to give me a disease.
November 28, 2007 — 4:49 pm
Comments: 37
“I guess that just pissed them off worser…”
Police said they were working on a more detailed description of three men dressed in drag who came into a McDonald’s restaurant and started swinging.
Restaurant employee Martez Brisco was working the drive-through window when he reportedly got into an argument with the suspects. When Brisco ignored them tapping at the window, they came in.
“They come to the window, ‘Tap, tap, tap.’ I’m still ignoring them,” Brisco told WMC-TV. “I guess that just pissed them off worser.”
The transvestites allegedly struck the manager with a tire iron, and when he swung back, the drag queens took off their stiletto boots, removed their earrings and prepared to attack. The manager, Albert Bolton, was covered with scratch marks after suspects clawed him with their fingernails.
Bolton grabbed a pot of scalding french-fry grease and hurled it at his attackers. One of the cross-dressers then smacked Bolton with a wet floor sign, sending him to the hospital in an ambulance,
WMC-TV reported.
November 27, 2007 — 1:04 pm
Comments: 9