big cliché

Remember earlier we talked about the two bodies that turned up earlier this week? Today, NPD has released the names of both of the decedents.

Last September, and I had forgotten all about this until now, a young woman was reported missing from the exact same neighborhood where the body was found. However the search was called off after about three days, or so, because the woman's family said she was alive and well in Ponca City, of all places.

Now the family is saying that they never did locate her last year. If I was the detective investigating this, I would want to have a loooong talk with the family members who said she was fine.

I assure you, I am not making light of this. This woman had two children who now have to grow up without a mother. However, this happened on my side of town so if it was a homicide (there were some indications that it may have been a suicide) then whoever did this is still running around out there. Not a very comforting thought at all.

I was originally just going to mention this in passing, but after looking over the comments, from Kelly on the earlier post, I decided to take a bit more time on it.

Kelly asked if I had seen House of 1000 Corpses and coincidentally, we watched it Saturday night. I expect we both watched it on Cinemax, since it was their Saturday night movie! In any event, Kelly's description was spot-on. I even commented to Aimee after it was all (thankfully) over that it was as if Rob took all of the artwork that he had done for CDs, albums, websites or whatever and tacked it all up on a wall and asked himself 'Now how do I get all this imagery into a motion picture?'

That is exactly what it reminded me of. I am quite sure, infact, that some of the images in the movie are taken directly from stills from when he was still with White Zombie. I even remember that big fuzzy 'Russian' fur hat that his girlfriend, Sherri Moon (who by the way was just not good in this movie) was wearing in the still photos done for Super-Sexy Swinging Sounds, or it may have been the inside jacket of Hellbilly Delux. The actual cd is irrelevant, but the images are exactly the same.

The most contrived bits were the strange cutaways that embellished on little pieces of the story that were not initially presented. You know how it goes, one of the characters would reference something like another character 'having fun', or being a 'lady killer' or whatever, then then it would cut to a (usually) black and white mini-scene of that character doing something appropriately derivative and usually just for shock value.

Then there was the language. E-GAD! I'll be honest: I am not one to point the finger when it comes to keeping the language G-rated all day, every day but I am really getting sick to death of writers using every four letter word they can just to squeeze them in there. And it seemed that Rob was purposely instructing every one of the actors to emphasize just those words in their lines. Sid Haig was especially good at this.

I personally think it would have been a much better movie if they had skipped the entire bit about Dr. Satan's mysterious disappearance and just stuck with the Firefly family. That bit was 'horror flick' enough without getting all unbelievable. I always find horror movies that are firmly planted in reality much scarier than those which are just waaaay out there. How many times have you heard someone say 'that scared me so much because that really happened'? People say that for a good reason. Truth is, IMO, always more disturbing than fiction.

Now I will say this: getting a movie made is not, as far as I can tell, by any stretch of the imagination an easy thing to accomplish. Especially when nobody in town wants to back your project, as was the case with this movie. So for Rob to stick to his guns and get it done is admirable, but was the finished product worth it? I'm leaning towards 'not really'. However, it was nice to see a horror film that was not a 'horror comedy' which seems to be all the rage these days.

FOXNews.com - Politics - Gov't: School Wrongly Suspended Muslim Girl

Now this is the kind of story that I just have to comment on. Please take a few minutes to read the article, then come back here so it will all make sense. Or at least I like to think it will.

Let's get a bit of background first, shall we? This is the exact text of the first amendment to our Constitution:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

This is taken from the Cornell University Law website. That, along with amendments 2 through 10 make up our Bill of Rights. Most of you should remember this from civics, social studies, or whatever your school district called it, but the important bit is that these are rights. Not privileges that can be revoked or taken away. To paraphrase the Declaration of Independence, these things are all "unalienable" endowments from the Creator.

Now I have yet to find it in my limited research, but a friend who is much more 'Constitutionally versed' than I once told me that according to the Federalist Papers, the original intent of the Seperation of Church and State was not to prohibit religious displays or activities at government run entities, but rather to prohibit the government from establishing a state religion. Remember, these British expatriates came to the new country to be able to worship freely. As I recall, that was not permitted at that time in England. This may explain why that stipulation is a part of the first amendment and not the seventh. Our forefathers, above all else, valued religious freedom. (As long as your religion wasn't Satanism, but that is a different post.)

So then, how is it that the federal government can't make any law respecting the free exercise of religion, but the Muskogee, OK Public School District can? I'm sure well all remember that hats were not permitted in school, but the hijab is no more a 'hat' than a yarmulka. Granted, most Jews don't wear the yarmulka every day, but when I was in grade school in Massachusettes I knew at least one who did. I also remember that he was ridiculed and even thrown down a flight of stairs for it, but again, that is a different post.

Currently, our constitution states that the gov't can't make any laws respecting the free exercise of religion. However, due to a freakish, IMO, misinterpretation of the amendment, the current PC climate states we can't be having any sanctioned religious displays on public school property. Some of you are thinking that the school did not sanction her hijab, but I have to point out that since they have allowed her to return to classes they are sanctioning it, at least for the time being. The rules, it seems, are at odds with each other.

So how is it that we have arrived at this strange place? In a country founded by people just looking for a place to worship God as they desired, we are suspending kids for doing just that? What exactly are we trying to tell our children? Let me know if you can figure it out, because I have been at a loss for some time now. I do have one idea however: instead of prohibiting religious displays on public schools, why not allow equality for all religous displays? Are some people going to be offended when little Billy sets up his alter to beelzebub? Certainly so, but that is the way it goes, people. If you take a few to read the Bill of Rights, you will notice that while freedom of religious expresion is guaranteed, no where, and I have looked, does it mention that you or I have the right to be free from offensive things that other people do or say no matter how strongly you and I disagree with one another.

For the last 3 weeks, I have really been digging on the new A Perfect Circle CD as well as last year's release from Tool. I even recorded 'Totally Tool', which is the only thing the KATT (local radio station) does that is remotely worth listening to a few weeks back just so I could get some live versions and import stuff. On that topic, I think I have listened to the live version of Weak and Powerless at least 20 times. But today, they showed their true colors. After Mer de Noms we had thought that perhaps these guys were more concerned with the music than the commercialism. Turns out they are just as much about the booty video as the rappers.

Aimee had signed up with their website to try to get advance notice of concert tickets when they were coming to Lloyd Noble. We didn't get any tickets out of the deal, but their webservice did send out a link to a new video for The Outsider that is a blatant booty video for APC fans. If you are curious, you can get to it from their website, but I just don't have enough respect for them anymore to link it.

No, I'm not going to throw away their CDs or any extremist crap like that, cause the music is obviously still good. It is just that after seeing that lame video, I lost about 98% of the respect I had for them as creative and artistic souls and I wanted to wank about it. Don't get me wrong, all the praise in the world isn't going to pay the bills, so I can dig them trying to make a buck...but a booty video? After the video for Weak And Powerless I was just expecting something a bit more creative. Perhaps I should lower my expectations. Or I guess I could just grow up and accept the fact that music videos are not to be confused with art and in reality are the vision of the director, not the musicians. Unless you are Rob Zombie, that is.

I assure you, that will be the last time I ever reference an Aerosmith song. Period. However, since it was the most appropriate title, I just had to do it.

The headcold is 99.9% gone, and I am feeling much, much better for all those concerned. Thank God it didn't transmogrify into a chest cold. Those are so much more unpleasant and difficult to rid oneself of.

Man, o man what a weekend it was. Saturday, I waaaaay overslept (my recuperating body apparently needed 13 hours of sleep to deal with the headcold) then spent the remaining 4 hours of daylight working like a madman on the yard. Got it all done with just a few minutes of twilight left. Sunday was a differnt story. Since I was on-call this weekend for the man I got to spend the day at work. 7 a.m. to 4:40 p.m. Delightful. For some odd, and as yet undisclosed reason, OG&E needed to cut power to our building. So rather than just be down for 8 hours, my boss decided that we would show the team that we were up to the challenge of running the HD from a remote location.

In truth, getting up at 6:15 was the worst part of the whole affair. Not being able to get to sleep any earlier than 3:38 made that alarm clock just that much more enjoyable! But on the upside, I will get a boatload of overtime out of the deal. I guess in retrospect, it was 'easy money' as they say.

In an unrelated bit, it seems Norman has become somewhat of a killing field as of late. This is a bit unusual for our quet little college town. The most current crime stats from the NPD webpage indicate that there are an average of 3 criminal homicides a year over the last 10 years. In the last two days, there have been as many bodies discovered and they are labeling both of them 'suspicious' at this time because they really don't have much to go on. One of the bodies was old enough to be skeletonized remains and the other was found today in the WM (west side) parking lot. Sure, all of you big city folk are wondering what all the hubbub is about, but Norman just doesn't have that many people turn up dead in two days. Especially this early in the year. I don't remember if the guy they found out by the lake was early this year, or late 2003, but that one was definitely a homocide and an OKC man was arrested within a week of the body being found. I'm getting nothing on the scanner though. If they had a suspect in either case, I would be hearing all kinds of traffic on the investigations channels, but so far nada.

Yes indeed, it has been nothing but slacking over here at the cliché. You see I have had a head cold for the last 3-4 days. While it is not debilitating enough to stop me from doing, well, anything; it has made the prospect of putting enough thoughts together to make a post rather daunting.

I have felt the first twinges of what could be, or rather should be what I like to think of as 'inspired' rants, but I just haven't found the energy. Heck, I still need to finish up the thread I started the other day about the adventure that was carrier life. Mail Call is all but done in my head, but putting it down here....ech. So if you can bear with me a bit longer, I will make up for lost time, patient reader. In the mean time, here's a bit o' somethin for you FPS crackheads that Derrell sent up from Texas.

yes!!!!! I just bought splinter cell: Pandora tomorrow and all I have played is the online part for the past 4 hours, it is sweeeeet! it is out on xbox, not sure when on pc, may be now or in a few weeks. anyway, its all that and a bag of chips, everything graphicaly is improved. ( forgive my spelling wayne, please. ) any way thought you might want to post that and let your following know that it is out for xbox and to go buy it now. my online name curently, is roughnck, tell those that are xbox owners to send me an invite, thanks.

FOXNews.com - Top Stories - PETA Targets KFC With 'Buckets of Blood'

Man, o man! I may have to start eating KFC again just to get one of these! Just kidding, I'll wait outiside the building. BTW, am I the only one who feels PETA's targeting of children is just plain exploitation?

I was just over at Hook Echoes (see permanent link) reading BM33 when something Jefe said got me thinking. In reality, most things I read over there get me thinking. And I'll say it again: if you haven't been following the BM saga and just reading around in general, you are seriously missing out. Anyway, this is the bit that got me thinking:

Second, until you've lived for a week on MRE's and a chicken leg .... you can't know how compelling Burger King is. I wonder if Wayne had to deal with the same unstoppable cravings when he (and Big K, if he's out there) got off the carrier?

You will have to read the rest, including the middle bit I glossed over to protect the 'innocent', but it really reminded me how it truly is the little things that I grew to miss the most while at sea. Sure, the biggies hit first, but they also fade first. Initially, I really missed having a real bed. The carrier, as well as most surface ships, have these pitiful little open-cell foam excuses for mattresses that are a whopping 1.5" thick. After all, the carrier has to sleep about 6000 sailors and all those posturepedics would certainly add up in the weight catagory, not to mention replacement costs. Like I said though, soon enough I was used to it and it was forgotten. That was just the way it was.

The food was another biggie, but again one that I grew accustomed to soon enough. As noted in the earlier 'Carrier Op's' posts, there were only 2 hours of the day you could not get something to eat. Food prep continues 24-7 but food service was only 22 hours. The aft galleys, appropriately located at the back of the ship, served cafeteria-style food, usually consisting of a choice of main dish, a few veggie sides, some type of desert and if you were lucky, fresh milk; as opposed to powdered, or worse: UHT box milk! Ultra-High-Temperature processed milk was the worst kind. It came in little 'juice' boxes and had absolutely no flavor because they had boiled everything but the white out of it! if one forgot to shake it vigorously, the milk solids which had settled at the bottom would inevitably either hit you in the upper lip, or slosh out into the middle of your grits, oatmeal or cornflakes and just ruin the mood altogether. The UHT box was quite popular for the Navy, because it needed no refrigeration. Milk that can sit on a shelf for weeks on end always freaked me out a bit, but like I said, you get used to it.

The aft galleys also served the breakfast meal. Eggs, bacon, grits, toast; you get the picture. After about 3 weeks at sea, fresh eggs were a distant memory and the powdered variety would make their debut. So, there was always the entirely real possibility that at any breakfast (remember, I worked nights, so breakfast was dinner for me) could consist of powdered eggs, powdered milk, instant grits and/or pancakes made from a mix or potato pancakes from instant potatoes!

The forward galleys, which were forward of the aft galleys (see how clever they are?) served sliders and dogs all day, every day. Sliders are those delicious '100% beef' patties you get at the Sam's Club, Costco, or whatever your local warehouse grocer is called. Occasionally, a rare thing would happen and they would have real french fries! Talk about something you don't know you miss until they are gone. Most of the time they had, and I am not joking, instantfrench fries! Seriously, the system was actually quite ingenious, but the flavor and texture left a lot to be desired. I will try to keep this brief, but since it facinated me, more than it probably should have, I am going to share it just the same.

The machine that made the 'powdered' fries consisted of two main parts: a hopper for freeze-dried potato pellets and a cylinder/piston assembly. Imagine a coffee can laying on its side, lid towards you. That would be a fair respresntation of the cylinder attached to the front of the machine and is where the magic happened! The piston pushed in from the back, moving towards the lid. The machine was hooked to its own water supply so it couldn't be mis-measured by some hapless mess cook. When the cycle was started, the machine would meter a dose of these potato pellets into the cylinder. It would then add the water to get the spuds rehydrating. As the mush expanded, the piston would compress the mixture towards the front of the cylinder in small increments, pausing between compressions to allow the mush to expand a bit farther. Once the mush was at the needed consistency, a series of horizontal slots would open in the front (or lid side) of the cylinder. The piston would push the potato mush through the slots about a half inch. Before the stuff could start to droop, a cutting blade swooped through the extended, reconstituted, potato play-dough, freeing the 'fries' to drop to a collection tray below. They were then, of course, deep fried and served to the hungry masses. Absolutely amazing engineering, but not even moderately passable fries. The odd bit, to me however, was that guys would almost come to blows over these little culinary misfits, demonstrating just how much people love and miss the humble, ubiquitous french fry. How's that for digression? Stephen King would be proud.

Finally, I will tell you what got me the most. Keep in mind that when we hit a port, one could always find a king-size, standard mattress at a hotel. It was also just as easy to locate whatever food you desired. Even in Hong Kong, you could get your big mac fix if that's what you desired, but God only knows what was really between those buns. Literally, you could find whatever you were missing in port. Yes, you could even see a movie at a real theater, but you better speak the local language. Strangely enough, the one that always got me, and certainly surprised me, the most was commercials! How dimented and backwards is that? Nowadays, you can't get me to sit through one. We even tape our shows for the express purpose of skipping the damnable things. For some inexplicable reason though, after watching enough Armed Forces Radio and Television (lovingly referred to a A-FARTS) programming, I started to really miss them. You see the carrier had it's own television studio. A luxury I don't know if the smaller surface ships could afford because of the weight of the broadcast gear and editing suite. They would receive the satelite feeds or get the 1" tape of the programs in the mail (mail is an entirely different post, by the way), then edit out the commercials and insert the A-FARTS spots in their stead. It was always poorly acted PSAs on how to contact your disbursing officer if your pay was wrong, or little updates about our port schedule or whatever. It just wasn't good old American commercials. I would have never, ever in a million years have guessed that if you had asked me at the start of the cruise what would be the most unexpected thing I would miss while at sea, I would answer 'commercials'. And I'm quite sure you didn't expect that one either.

To directly answer Jefe's question; Yes, the cravings were there in full force. For me, the first order of business after getting back from a 6-month cruise was to get a real pizza and a 12 pack of American-brewed beer. Pizza is just not the same overseas, no matter how hard or how sincerely they try and American beer, is just that. American beer.

I decided to go ahead and post the 'PC police' post anyway. I am still chuckling to myself about the plundered booty, but I must persevere.

If you are just catching up, you will eventually make it to the subsequent post were I reference the article about the Canadian prison workers being told not to wear their stab vests to work because it gives the wrong message to the prisoners. Convicted felons apparently have feelings, too.

So I have taken a look around and I have noticed a few things that apparently the PC police have missed. The first one is that unbelievable 7Up commercial with the tiny black doll-action-figure-thing telling us all about how nothing can compare to the refreshing burst of 7Up when it hits the back of your throat. He even challenges us to name one thing that can. 'Just one. You can't do it, can you'. Just then, the young ladies walk by and the camera cuts real close to the doll-action-figure-thing and he ends with 'Name TWO!

Now I like to think I have a pretty well-developed sense of humor, and I will be the first to burn the PC code of ethics manual, given a chance, but am I the only person in America who found that spot offensive on every level and degrading to black men and women? Certainly someone else had to feel that his tiny little afro, complete with pick, was a stereotype gone wrong. And the worst part, IMO, was the other actors sitting there with this thing on the steps, as if they were endorsing the whole spot. Actually, the worst part was that damnable catchphrase that keeps echoing through my head. SHPLA-DOW! Yes, it is just a commercial, and I know I am taking it waaaay to seriously, but then again the taco bell chihuahua had only a pseudo Spanglish accent and look at the stink that caused. I can't believe the NAACP hasn't got all up in arms over this one.

Another one I noticed the other day is the reverse of the new nickels. One of the images shows a depiction of two hands shaking. One is supposed to be a Native American hand while the other, with a military cuff, is supposed to represent the American government. The overall image is said to be a replica of the original 'peace medals' given to Native American chiefs. As a Portuguese-european mixed-breed living in Oklahoma, I should probably be the last person casting any judgement on what our gov't (yes I said 'our' because you too probably have a US passport) did back in those days, but I almost have to wonder if those medals were handed out just before the guys said 'Hey, there are some blankets back there in the wagons, if y'all want those too'. I would think some of my neighbors would have noticed that one and started the talk about reparations; aside from the casinos and car tags, that is. I know this is going to be way too serious for this venue, but even I have to acknowledge that at some point, the land I now hold the deed to was claimed during the land run only after the indigenous peoples were shuffled off to wherever. On the other side of the coin, pun intended, am I going to give my house and tiny patch of grass to the BIA for distribution as they see fit? No. Do we really need a nickel to remind everyone of that? Maybe it doesn't remind everyone of that, but it was the first thing that came to my mind.

That's all I've got for now, but the next time I am feelng particularly liberal-minded I may travel down this road again.

You know, I had this nice rant all planned out for tonight about how the PC police are slacking. One of the guys at work pointed out how the Canucs don't want their prision guards to wear their stab vests because it sends the wrong message! And here I thought the US lead the race when it came to PC stoopidity. I even found a few examples of my own that I just can't believe the PC police are missing.

But I had to stop by the grocery store. Then, I saw this bag of snacks. I had to look twice to make sure it wasn't a gag that someone had left behind. Although why anyone would go to that much trouble to put their gag bag of potato crisps in the east side Albertson's is beyond me. Product placement, I guess. The picture's details are a bit hard to make out, but I assure you this has more to do with how many times this company can get you to say 'booty' than it does with pirates. The pirate is just a clever ruse. Seriously, this is taken right off the back of the package, verbatim: Plundered Booty is made form Potatoes and are air popped through a cannon and into your tummy. Fans are called Booty Heads, eat these crisps and you'll be hooked. Everytime you buy one of our products you become part of our company family, and we love our family. Plundered booty is truly one of our best snacks. There are just a few too many references to 'booty' there for me. And what exactly do they mean whey they say they 'love' their family. It practically begs the question; Whose booty are they plundering? And how, exactly, does one plunder the booty? Almost as good are a few of their other choice snacks. How about Pirate'sBooty w/Caramel or the Veggie Booty or the one I would pay to see: Mermaid's Secret Booty!

Yes, it just gets worse and worse but be thankful that you, unlike my poor wife, have not had to hear me running around the house, holding up my bag of Plundered Booty and giving a hearty AAAAAAARGH, Mateys! The woman is truly patient. Oh, for those of you wondering about how the booty tastes: rather bland. Imagine a rice cake, made of potatoes with very little salt and absolutely no powdered flavor of any kind sprinkled on. Honestly though: who is going to buy this bag for the crisps?

Once again, it is past that time, but it's free so click the link and enjoy!

Tuesday night, if I remember correctly, the Playboy party bus was in fabulous bricktown, OKC for their 50th anniversary smut-fest. Now, as noted previously, I am not at all against the human form being displayed for the enjoyment of others. The part that I found completely laughable was the air of grandeur my friends bestowed on this golden occasion.

5 of the guys who work in my office attended this sordid little affair and they tried to play it up like it was something other than a trip to a local nudie bar. Yes, I am getting ready to break bad on my boys, but they knew it was coming and it is all in good fun. They even rented a limosine for Pete's sake! One of them even tried to justify it by saying 'It is a piece of Americana'. I told him he was full of it, and if he wanted 'Americana' then he should buy a Harley-Davidson like everyone else and save the $150 price of admission. Yes indeed, I said $150. But that was for the VIP admission, or so I'm told. Seriously, if you wants to go look at the fake boobs, then just do it. Don't try to dress it all up and make it legitimate; you are going to a nudie bar! And just to keep Nate happy, yes, ten years ago the 'old' Wayne, as he put it, was indeed right there with 'em. The most obvious difference being that I never, ever paid more than $5 for the door and ten years later, I am not still going to the nudie bars.

Lest the title misleed you, I should inform you that there were bunnies, but the man who started it all was conspicuously absent from the evening's festivities. Not to worry, though; he sent his bed. How lame is that? He sent his BED!

After hearing the description, and yes even seeing some of the pictures, it was apparent to me that this thing was really a call back to the olden days when the Playboy clubs were open for bidness and catering exclusively to the sophisticated crowd; the 'jet set' if you like. Well, that and a chance to make some serious bank off the door. I read the other day that Playboy is getting it's butt whooped by these upstart magazines that don't actually show you the 'whole' model, but pretty darn close. Since they are not 'adult' magazines, they are on news stands everywhere. You know which ones I am talking about: Maxim, FHM, Stuff, and the like are stealing, literally, Playboy's readers as well as their profits and Playboy is reeling, trying to recover some of their marketshare.

They have their work cut out for them. After all, once the model is completely naked, what else is there to take off? How do you effectively re-market what you are already credited with creating the market for in the first place? I guess you get a bunch of bunnies, fire up the bus and hit the road!

We have baked about 8 dozen cookies in the last 3 weeks. That is actually only 2 batches, but if you are eating them, that is a lot of cookies. Well, I have been taking half of them work, so Aimee and I are not eating all of them.

The problem is that they are coming out all light and fluffy. Problem, you ask? Well yes. If you are after a more dense, chewy cookie, light and airy is bad. But in a 'still too delicous to throw away' kind of vein. You know what I mean: you are trying to get a certain result, but no matter what you do, or no matter how tasty it comes out, it is still not what you were trying for.

We have tried, over the last year, at least 5 different recipies and read scores. They all say if you want the dense, chewy cookie to do this, or that, or even the other but we still end up with the same cake-type cookie. We have tried melting the butter first, rather than creaming it in with the sugars; adding extra oil, using only 1 egg white and 3 egg yolks instead of 3 whole eggs, cutting the baking powder in half, and mixing the dough just enough to incorporate the ingredients to minimize the amount of air that is whipped in. All of this, sadly, has been in vain. The one time I had success was with a recipe that Aimee was not too fond of, only because it was a chocolate chocolate chip instead of your regular chocolate chip cookie. I even went all wacky and used white chocolate chunks and macadamia nuts, but it was still too much chocolate for my beloved. (Too much in the sense that her stomach is sensative to that much cocoa).

Certainly some of you are shaking your heads and wondering exactly when I went off the deep end, but I tell you I will crack this cookie mystery even if it does take my sanity. There is just something inexplicable about the perfect cookie, fresh out of the oven enjoyed with a glass of milk so cold that ice crystals are just starting to form.

So, if any of you culinary types (Kelly, Zora, ahem) know the secret of the perfect cookie, how's about dropping a struggling brother an e-mail?

I am back in the great state of Oklahoma again. It was a short business trip, but anytime they are willing to pay me to travel I am game. The trip was a more or less a training type thing. We journeyed to the Fort Worth, TX Processing and Distribution Center to observe mail in it's natural environment. I won't bore you with the technical explanations but I will let you in on a little-known secret. Little-known because it is so mind-numbingly boring! Your mail is processed by giant machines. Not Jules Verne-type machines; that would be far too interesting. These are your basic 'do as much as possible, as fast as you can' type machines that sort your mail based on a barcoded representation of your zip code. Since this type of information is relevant to my line of work, we got to take a little drive and the nice folks in Fort Worth gave us the presidential tour. Then it was right back in the car to head north after a nice lunch. The only negative part of the whole trip was Thursday morning. For some unknown reason, one of my coworkers felt compelled to call the rest of us to make sure we were up and getting ready for the day's excitement. Now it should be relatively common knowledge to anyone who has kept up with this project that I am not a morning person. So when I woke up, after waking up every hour on the hour btw, at 7:13 a.m. and realized the alarm was going off in 2 minutes I was not ready for socializing on any level. Then, the phone rang. My first though was 'Why are you ringing? I did not ask for a wake-up call'. Then, it flashed to 'Oh my God, someone has been killed!' because only bad news is delivered at that forsaken hour of the day, right? Thankfully no one was dead, but someone was almost killed. Later that day, as politely as possible, I informed my coworker that civilized folk do not call one another at that hour and it is just plain wrong to do so.

Spent most of today working in the garage. We boxed up loads of goods, after cleaning out the closets, and carted them off to the fine folks at the Salvation Army. And you guys thought I was just making up that stuff about the semi-annual closet cleaning, didn't you? After that, it was time to organize the garage and get some of the things that have been out for some time back in their respective places. Not very exciting, but very necessary and it will continued tomorrow.

In other news, there seems to be some strange things afoot in da hood of late. Early Saturday morning, around 4:00 a.m. I was turning off the lights and checking the doors to make sure everything was locked up tight for the night when I noticed a lot of car lights directly in front of the 'stead. I peeked through the curtain and saw 3 Norman PD cruisers sitting there plain as day. Imagine that: I listen to the scanner at all hours of the day and night and when the man shows up on my front patio, so to speak, I haven't a clue as to why! I suspect the neighbor kid is up to his shenanigans again, but having missed the initial call, I can't be sure. I can tell you that they don't usually send 3 units unless something of particular interest is happening. Then, earlier this evening, around 11:00 p.m. Rob H. calls to ask what 'the man' was doing in our hood again. This time I had been listening to the scanner and hadn't heard a peep about anything on our street. I am thinking it is was one of the guys from last night just doing a drive through to make sure all is well is Suburbia. Needless to say, I will be paying particular attention to the radio in the near future.

And finally, for all of my fellow FPS crackheads, the Splinter Cell, Pandora Tomorrow demo is out (single player only at this time) and oh-so tasty. Spliter Cell practically ruined me for about 8 months on all other computer games. They just could not measure up. Seriously, I quit gaming altogether for a while there. Sadly, the demo is only 1 level. Some of the game controls are a bit different, but the gameplay and graphics are undeniable super-stealth mode de-licious. Get it now. Don't wait.

I’m sitting here in room 509 of the Holiday Inn North in Ft. Worth TX waiting for my mesquite-grilled chicken breast with rice pilaf, fresh veggies, steakhouse salad and a Sam Adams. Yeah, it’s a domestic, but what are you gonna do?

I love to travel for business, but I hate to be away from Aimee. How’s that for a crux? Once, way back, we were able to work it out so that she got to go with me to Ft Myers, FL. The team sent me to assist with the testing phase of a new computer system for the barcode sorters, but Aimee came for the beach. She would drop me off, then spend her day at the beach or shopping. I would give her a ring when we were about done and she would come pick me up. Then, you guessed it, back to the beach! Good times.

One of the things I find comforting about travel is that no matter what hotel you stay with, there are always similarities that make them feel familiar. Things like the furniture; there must be exactly one hotel furniture supplier in the world, and they sell first to the top hotels, then resell it to the chains, and eventually it ends up at the hourly-rate places in the seedy sections of town. The layout of the rooms is always exactly the same too. This room is practically indistinguishable from the Holiday Inn in Fort Smith—until I look out my window and see the freeway instead of Rogers Ave. Even the toilet paper is folded the same way on the roll.

The biggest differentiating factor seems to be the level of service you get. Room service, for example, runs the gamut from 3 and 4 star cuisine to the stuff you just know they ordered from the local takeout then re-plated and charged you a 40% markup. Tonight’s meal, which has come and gone by the way, was obviously the work of someone trying to get the kitchen cleaned up so they could get home. Everything, except the minute rice, was just slightly undercooked. This is good for the veggies—I like them a bit crisp—but not so good for chicken breast. The edges were done, but the middle was that shade of light pink bordering on white that I just don’t feel comfortable with. No worries though, the salad was fresh, huge and crisp. Oh well, I guess that is what you get when you call the kitchen 10 minutes before they close for the evening. I can say this much though: they served the beer in a ‘Samuel Adams’ silk-screened ale glass and it arrived cold and super-hoppy, just as it should be. Can you say ‘alpha-acids’? Sure you can.

I hipped my boy Derrell to this blog last week, and he emailed suggesting that I take a stroll down memory lane and relate some of our more malcontent moments. I am still kicking around a few ideas, but the one that immediately pops to mind was the night we decided to egg our 'neighbor's' house.

First I have to give you a bit of background on 'da hood'. I grew up east of Lexington, OK which is a rural area. There were three kids my age, counting me, and the closest was Derrell who lived about 1/4 of a mile west. 1/4 of a mile the other direction was 'Brother K', aka Keith. Each of us had a brother two years younger. Now when I say 1/4 mile west or east, I mean those were the closest houses. When I say rural, I mean rural.

The only other kids close to our age were the Gansters, and they lived to the south of our land, but if you had to go by road it was almost 3/4 of a mile. Shani Ganster was nice enough, but her dad was an evil, evil man who hated all boys because we 'only wanted one thing'. Can you guess the Ganster children were all girls? After the evil Mr. Ganster gave Keith an earfull for, and I am not joking, walking on his side of the road we decided that action had to be taken.

Remembering the rural theme of our existence, it should come as no surprise that there were all manner of animals which we raised for sustenance. Hens for eggs, roosters and rabbits for meat and one goat mainly for milk, but she did have one kid that was rather tasty, as I recall. So on the night this was all to go down, when I went out to gather the eggs for the day, I purposely left about a half dozen in the henhouse so that we would have ammunition for the night's mission. As I recall, Keith and Kerrens brought all they could--also about a half-dozen--and Derrell and David managed to snag a dozen. We were set. It was summer, so arranging a sleepover was no big deal and not out of the ordinary. We set up the tent in the back yard and waited for 'the witching hour'.

Yes, we were melodramatic kids and how we thought we could pull this off without old man Ganster immediately knowing it was us is a mystery to this day. But we figured that if he could not prove it, then we were innocent, right?

When the time was right, we started south through the high weeds and brambles that made up the majority of the back part of our land. Then, we had to cross a huge ravine and that was before we even got off our property. We then had to cross two barbed-wire fences and avoid a series of smaller ditches which weren't really death defying but one could easily twist an ankle if they didn't mind their footing.

Finally, we could see the Ganster's barn. Old man Ganster had about 40 sheep and they were kept in a pen around the north side of the barn. It was late, and we were being very sneaky, but the sheep knew we were there, and were a bit ancy about the whole thing. Then again, so was I. Even back then, I was 'safe guy' and it took quite a bit of goading to get me up to our rural-America version of civil disobedience. After all, in our little world old man Ganster was 'the man' and he was trying to keep Keith down by telling him which side of the road he could and could not walk on. I did it for the greater good and put my personal feelings aside, at least for the moment.

Something else to keep in mind is that Lexington's federal prison as well as the Joseph Harp Center for the criminally insane, were all within 2 miles of our houses. So it was not uncommon for things that went bump in the night to be investigated by homeowners with a flashlight in one had and a shotgun in the other.

I swallowed hard, steadied my nerves and the egging began. I tried to hit the barn, but I'm sure I fell short. I know I hit the roof of their home, as did the other guys. My brother Eric, Derrell, David, Keith and Kerrens were all really getting into it and beginning to make more noise then I felt comfortable with. Then, it happened. The light in their mud room came on. I practically had a bowel movement right there. My 'fight or flight' instinct was set to flight, as I was positive that old man Ganster would be coming to the door heavily armed and pissed off. I called to the other guys to run, then did just that. I ran. I tried to hop the fence on the sheep pen, but got tangled up. I fell to the ground with a hearty thud and felt a slight burn on my leg. I had gotten caught in the single strand of barbed wire that ran the top of the pen. I got back to my feet, but was surrounded by sheep and they were not too happy about my being there. I got around them and hopped the back fence, but then got tangled up in what I can only guess was a tomato cage. By this point, I was sure that my brother and all my friends were dead, although I hadn't heard a single shot. I managed to get the tomato cage off my leg and that was it. I was absolutely gone. I don't think I have ever run that fast in my entire life. Then I hit the small ravines. SPLAT! I hit that first one in such a fashion that it tripped me and I know I had to have flown at least 10 feet in the air before hitting that hard red clay interspersed with small rocks that had the effect of sandpaper on my already torn legs. Fortunatley, I negotiated the two fences without incident, but by now my own dogs, who had stayed behind, were making so much noise that my Dad was roused, only I didn't know it yet.

I crossed the big ravine and I could finally hear their voices way behind me, indicating that the guys had made it to the second fence. There is a giant pecan tree on the side of the ravine closest to the house, but it is still at least 100 yards south. When I had made it to the tree, I saw the back door of the house open and there was my Dad. He knew, probably from putting up with our sleepovers in the past, that we were indeed the cause of all the hullabaloo and decided that he would have a little fun. I had been standing completely motionless because I knew at that distance I would be indistinguishable from the tree if I could just keep still. I knew my heart was going to pound through my chest at any moment, and my bottom teeth ached the way they do when you have exerted youself way to hard. Then Dad went back in, and I knew what he was doing. I had one chance to make it to the house before he could get to the gun cabinet. I again broke out in a dead sprint, trying desperately to make the front door before he could come out the back with the shotgun. I saw visions of my brother and friends, having just barely survived the attack by old man Ganster, being gunned down by my own father! I rounded the corner of the house and lept for the front porch. Just as my hand wrapped around the handle of the screen door, I heard the first shot. I stopped dead in my tracks and if I could have been seen, I am sure I would have been as white as fresh-fallen snow. I could hear Dad yelling something, then another shot. I opened the door and ran through the kitchen yelling for him to wait because it was the other guys. When I got to the hallway, I could see him laughing and snickering, his face plainly illuminated by the back porch light. From their bedroom, I could just barely hear my stepmother telling him to 'quit scaring the boys and come back to bed'. When it finally set in that he knew it was us the whole time, and the two shots were fired into the ground a foot off the porch, it was almost funny. Not 'ha ha' funny, but 'yeah, you got me' funny. Needless to say, the other guys did have quite a laugh at my expense.

I'm not sure if Dad knew what we were up to, but I found out Shani did. She informed me some time later that it was her who got up to check on the sheep, not her dad, who had slept like an evil baby right through the whole affair. Needless to say, my egging days were over.

Earlier this week, I alluded to dinner with Aimee's folks. It was actually Sunday, but because of the late hour I usually post, it came across as looking like we did so Monday. I assure you it was Monday, and we arrived at their house around 4:30-something-ish? I think.

Dinner was a ways from being done yet, and I still had a (whoop-daddy) pineapple upside down cake to bake. BTW, if I ever see yous guys using canned pineapples, I will break your pinky-toes! Clase, repite por favor: 'Fresh makes the cake'. Anyway we started chatting, and I soon found myself amazed, once again, at the seemingly infinite patience of my mother-in-law.

Aimee's mom is a librarian in small-town OK. Her library is situated waaay to close to the grade school in that town, and as a result the local parents have decided that it is somehow the librarians' responsibility to watch their little kiddies while they are off doing whatever. This in itself, to me, is unacceptable, but no one has the autority, or desire, to do anything about it. She even commented to me that one of the moms had the gall to thank her for providing this service free of charge! And here's the best part of the deal: the parents expect the librarians to have all the accountability with none of the authority! The first time Aim's mom told me about this, I practically had a fit for her. The parents expect them to watch their ill-begotten demon spawn and keep them in line without dispensing any type of discipline. So, the parents expect the kids to walk to the library after school, or during the summer break for that matter, spend all hours there doing whatever they want and the librarians shall not touch a hair on precious little Jimmy's head no matter how desperately he needs it. But God forbid little Jimmy comes home with a scratch because another one of these free loaders' children smacked him for bumping the kid off the internet. Yes, her library has free internet access now, which is a whole different can of worms.

The whole conversation really reminded me of how good things are where I currently find myself, despite the best efforts of a few choice individuals. I am not a violent person, but I can tell you right now that I would probably have choked the piss right out of a few of those kids after hearing some of the stories that she has told. And you know what? They would've deserved it. Obviously I need to stay away from child-care positions. Heh. And if it isn't the hell-children, it is her coworkers. I won't even elaborate.

Now that I am 30 minutes into this post, it only makes sense that I can't think of a single good example to prove my point and help you see why this had me all but ready to choke small children. Actually, I would go after their parents. It's all about the helping children, right? Maybe you will get to read some of these tales soon enough. I am trying to convince her that she needs to get a blog going to get all of this out and purge herself of the negativity. I think True Tales of a Small Town Librarian Has a nice ring to it.

FOXNews.com - Foxlife - Out There - City Considers Banning Water

City Council at work! Coincidentally, this circulated around here a few yeras back and I had some of the smartest technicians I know convinced that Dihydrogen Monoxide was killing our kids and our gov't was doing nothing! Good stuff. Thanks to Justin for pointing this one out.

Kelly was kind enough to contribute through email, so I will return the favor by posting what he had to say. I have been trying to put this up for two days, but our cable connection at home is all fruity and not playing nice. It will stay connected for 5 minutes, then drop out for 30, connect for 3, then drop out for 4 hours. I barely got yesterday's post up. Anyway, here is Kelly's contribution:

Here's a good link for you. The government can muster up the balls to swat down the possibility of fat people suing the fast food restaurants for making them fat, but they can't seem to get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that this bill is essentially the same as the proposed bill that
will soon disappear out of everyone consciousness that protects gun manufacturers from frivolous lawsuits by dumb asses that really think it's their fault that little Timmy was running with a gang and got his dumb ass blown off with the latest Kimber .45 (yeah, like gangs have that good of taste). Now, I'm not saying that we should be able to sue the fast food fucks for doleing out such wonderful deep fat fried grease balls that do contribute to my large scale because unlike what seems to be most of America, I'm smart enough to realize that it's my own damn fault, just like Ms. Shaniqua should realize it's her dumb ass sons fault that he got his dumb ass blown off.

Sorry, had to rant to someone I knew who could relate. Now, here's the link.

Last night, I had to make a quick trip to the WM to get a few recipe items for a cake I was going to make for dinner with Aimee’s folks today. We’ll discuss that more in depth in a separate post.

Since it was going to be a quick trip, I didn’t bring the police scanner or MD player. At this point, I have been going to that store long enough to know who is going to be stocking each section. Not by name mind you, but I know their faces and I’m sure a few of them recognize me. They usually start stocking around 10:00pm so they were well into it when I started shopping around 11:30 pm. This is something I hadn’t really thought of before, but as I made my way through the aisles it felt like each section had its own character, almost like neighborhoods in a small city. The guy who stocks the salad dressing/coffee/jams and jellies/condiment aisle appears to be of Mexican descent and is the most helpful, polite guy you could ask for in a stocker. He is always happy and it is contagious. Then over in the meat dept, you have a younger, Caucasian guy—an obvious Gen Xer—all tattooed and pierced up. I always feel a bit more ‘hip’ over there while browsing the nitrate-filled cold cuts. Over in the juice aisle, there is the guy we call ‘Eddie’, mostly because he is about 6’4” and 150lbs and always angry and scowling, but also because every single time I see him, he is wearing a concert T advertising some forgotten 80’s metal band, usually Iron Maiden. We avoid him at all costs. I don’t need his negativity crushing my groove. But last night, there was a new guy. I’m going to call him ‘existential guy’.

Something to keep in mind is that most of the stockers work their aisles pairs. So, as coworkers do, they chat. They talk about their off-shift escapades, their girlfriends, who they like in the store—you know, just regular coworker stuff. The difference between them and us is that when you and I talk to our coworkers, we probably don’t have hundreds of eavesdroppers pretending to be shoppers! I had never really given this much consideration either until I overheard existential guy trying to lay his ‘life philosophy’ on the guy assisting him with the flour and sugar. (Who was also apparently new).

Existential guy was trying to explain, not very eloquently I might add, that each person’s soul is made of energy and when the body dies, this energy, which can neither be created nor destroyed—only moved from place to place—goes on to become part of the universal collective until it is needed somewhere else. But the part he was having the hardest time explaining was his belief that since time was not relevant to energy, or something like that, when people talk about ‘the end’, the ‘end’ isn’t really something that can happen because for energy there is no end. Man has had to put that label on it because ‘endless’ is a concept that we can’t truly fathom. The more he spoke, the more I pretended to be consulting my short grocery list and looking for items in that aisle. I wanted to hear what his partner would say. Strangely enough and much to my dismay, he said nothing. He just kept nodding and stocking. Which is a bit odd, because his buddy couldn’t see him nodding behind a stack of boxes. E.G. did not miss a beat though, he just kept on groovin’. I left the aisle when he started to repeat himself. It has been my experience that when folks start to repeat themselves it is generally because they have nothing else to say of any consequence or value to their original point.

As I walked away I started to wonder if one could learn anything of relevance by observing the way these types of interactions take place among employees who are constantly intermingled with the public. I have heard some crazy, obnoxious and just plain vulgar things from some of these guys and they are right there next to me, so to speak. I suspect it is because they just don’t care any more, but it could also be for shock value. Whatever the case, I personally find that I guard my speech quite a bit when around strangers. Not just the type of language I use, but the amount of information I will divulge if there is someone standing around who I don’t know.

I guess I am more interested in how people, in an obvious public setting, arrive at the conclusion that it is perfectly permissible and socially acceptable to discuss the intimate details of the previous weekend’s sexual Olympics (just for example) knowing full well that there are scores of people within earshot. How does that happen? Are they trying to impress each other with how far they can go and establish some kind of informal pecking order?

Obviously, existential guy’s rap was not as far over the edge as some of the things I’ve heard, but it is the type of thing that is usually highly personal and not a conversation, in my experience anyway, that one just starts up in the middle of wm with someone you just met. Think about it: when was the last time you met someone in any social setting and just dove right into the deep end like that? Most people I know take some time to get to that point where they feel comfortable enough to discuss something as personal as their philosophy on life. This guy had obviously put a lot of thought in to this and was, if not eloquent, at least passionate. What do you think would have happened if his partner would have said something that existential guy found disrespectful, after he had laid it all out there on the line for old boy? That is the kind of ‘rejection’ that can forever bruise a friendship (assuming those two were on their way to becoming friends) and even lead to fisticuffs. I may be over simplifying, but wasn’t WWII, at its basest level, started because of a difference in personal philosophies between Hitler and the rest of the world?

Yes indeed, we made it to Gun World today. It is up on Sunnylane (I think; I wasn't driving) just south of SE29th over in Del City. The facade is rather nondescript; just a plain Morton-type building. The interior is surprisingly spacious and wall-to-wall guns! I would be willing to bet that their inventory rivals that of the reigning champ, Fred Baker's Outdoor America. I took only a cursory look, but it seemed that they had all bases covered from pre-ban goodies right up to current production. Their prices seemed high on some items, and lower on others. I imagine it would equal out once you consider the stoopid factor over there at Baker's place. I even, for the first time, got to check out the Beretta CX4 'Storm' carbine in the flesh, er...polymer. Baker's has been unable to keep those things in stock for more than one day, and I have never seen one on their racks. But we didn't go there to ogle the eye candy, we were there to shoot.

The cashier's cage is a bit of an odd affair, and the folding tables of paper targets 2 feet from the counter did not help at all. I'll spare you the gory details, but I will say that if you are going to put tables that close to a counter, you should have a sign that says 'enter this end' so you don't have people walking up to both ends. The poor ladies could not tell who was coming or going. They even tried to assign us to two different lanes because the one lady did not tell the other lady that she had already given us lane 12.

For those unfamiliar with an indoor shooting range, I offer the following general description: imagine a bowling alley. Now, enclose the entire thing to keep the noise down and put in an 'air lock' type door. Then put up steel dividers between the lanes from the floor to the ceiling and add a shelf that goes from divider to divider a little over waist height. This 'shelf' is where you generally leave your weapon as your load magazines (off to one side or at the back) and also serves as the 'firing line'. They tend to frown on (and for good reason) people loading their weapons before they are in the 'shooter ready' position at the firing line. They will all have some type of target system, usually an electric motor that powers what is basically a steel clothesline that zips your target downrange and back. Some will have elaborate benches and shelves, others do not but the bit I have described here is pretty universal.

As we entered the range, after putting on the glasses and earmuffs, we immediately noted that this range was very, very shallow. The problem could more accurately be attributed to the inefficient use of space. For some odd reason, they had these handrails extending back about 8 feet from where the steel dividers ended. The back wall was only about 11 feet from the same point and it had a 12" shelf the entire length of the wall. The net result is a 2 foot walkway between these handrails and the back wall which was where they expected you to load up and stow your gear. Now remember, everyone is wearing earplugs, muffs or both. Your run-of-the-mill 'pardon me' does not cut it in that environment. So now, everyone is yelling 'pardon me' at the top of their lungs. The phrase kind of loses its sense of etiquette when it is yelled repeatedly. The equipment seems all brand new and squeaky clean and the lighting and ventilation are excellent, but IMO all that is negated by the terrible layout of the range space. Oh yes, the range ammo was waaaay expensive. Almost 10 clams for a box of 50 9mm rounds. They do get super-brownie points for providing a free lunch, though. It was from Thai Tai which is just around the corner and suprisingly pleasant. The meal was cabbage rolls with simmered potatoes, a basic green salad and dinner rolls. Strange combination considering the name, but welcome and tasty nonetheless.

For comparison, H and H, which is on the other side of the city, south of Meridian and Reno (sort of) has scads of room and is just as well lighted and ventilated. Only H & H has never given me anything for free. Ever.

I guess all things considered, I would give it about 3 stars out of 5, which is up from the 2 I initially thought it deserved. After all, despite their absentmindedness, the staff were cheerful, attentive and happy to see paying customers. I get sick of places that treat you, the paying customer, as some type of burden on their day. Then there's that free lunch thing, too. The more I think about it, the more I think that would be a great range to hit on a weekday before work, I just have to remember to bring my own ammo next time. I'll have to let you know how that works out.

I know I said I wasn't going to post at work, but this one will be quick and I couldn't resist the temptation to let Kelly know that the child gyro plate is still more grub than most can handle. I am taking a full half of the one I just finished home for second supper.

Wasn't able to find out if they were originally the Gyro House, as commented by Jefe because Rob W. made the dinner run.

Tasty-licious.

Well, if everything works out right, there should be a trip to a new range this weekend. Rob H. reports he has found a range in Midwest City which should be closer than H & H and the outdoor range in Lexington. There is a range here in Norman, but it is dark, poorly ventilated and the last 3 times I tried to go, the owner was not to be seen. In fact, two of those three times were with Kelly, back when we both worked at Royal B. So now, I either have to trek the 30 or so miles to the Lexington Game Preservation Area to use their range, or I can drive the 20 miles into the city to H & H. The Lexington range is farther away, but is so much more free than H & H, not to mention the lack of city traffic. Hopefully, this MWC range will be a nice compromise between the two with none of the freaks. Now I'm going to share a little something with ya, but you can't tell anyone, or they will take away my membership card and ammo.

You see, gun people are not supposed to speak ill of other gun people, but I am going to break the code and admit that there are just some monumental idiots out and about at the ranges. Currently, of course, just being idiot does not prohibit you from owning a gun, until you are idiot enough to be convicted of a felony, that is. Let me give you an example: One of the times Rob H. and I went to the Lex range, there were two stoopids out there shooting at, and I couldn't make this up, their couch! It was this hideous cornflower blue country cottage-inspired nightmare that was just sitting about 30 yards down range. They had placed all kind of bad things (bottles, cans, etc) on the cushions and were blasting away with a 12 gauge and an MAK-90. Looking at those two, you just know that 3 hours prior that hideous thing was sitting on their front porch and one of them looked over to the other and said something like 'Hey Pervis, what'dya say we take this here couch down to the range and shoot it up!' Here's another scary bit: those two wanted to put a gas grill-sized propane tank down range and shoot at it as well! For some odd reason they asked Rob and me if we thought that would be a good idea. We, obviously, talked them out of it. Looking back, maybe I should have reported those two dolts to someone. Needless to say, the rest of us breathed a collective sigh of relief when those two left. You ready for the icing on the cake? They packed up their couch and took it with them! Granted, you are supposed to pack out your trash, but you just know those two were taking it right back to the front porch! Now you know why most folks out there wear a sidearm on their hip, or keep one on the bench, even if they are only there to shoot rifles. But it is a nice drive, I think, and the air is fresh and clean.

H & H on the other hand has a more 'refined' class of stoopid. Some of those people, and you know the type: the 'been there, done that, got the T-shirt' type, will look right at you and tell you some of the biggest whoppers you ever heard. Stuff like 'I shot through a brick house with a 22 rifle just to shoot the wings off the fly on the other side so it would quit pesterin' my coon dog'. And they are always about to buy some $12000 pre-ban, NFA auto-sear H & K MP5S that was owned by Massad Ayoob himself, just as soon as the tax refund check shows up. The absolute best though is when two of these guys have cornered each other and are laying it all out on the table. You can hear some truly inspired tales during one of those sessions. A word of caution though, don't get too close or they may try to get you to intervene and settle once and for all which round will drop a bull elephant faster: the 577 Nitro Express, or the 577 Tyrannosaur? And yes, those are both real cartridges.

So, if things continue as planned, I should be able to give you the goods on the new range by Saturday evening.

Today, after reading Zora's latest posts, I began to really think about places to ear here in Norman. At the same time, Jefe's advice 'stick with the ethnic, sir' was kind of echoing through my head. Then, it hit me! Greek House! For those of you who don't live in Norman, Greek House is practically a tradition in this town. They have been around as long as I can remember, but I have only lived in Norman for about 10 years or so, and it has been the same couple running it since the first time I went in.

In all honesty, it probably should have been called Gyro House, instead of Greek House 'cause we are in Oklahoma, and even though we are a college town with a much wider cultural variety, if you put a plate of sardines, octopus or squid in front of 10 people, six of them will probably look at you rather quizzically, astounded that you have served them what is commonly referred to in this neck of the woods as 'fishin' bait'. I consider myslef a bit more traveled than your average Oklahoman and I'll be perfectly honest with you (probably because of these good people) when someone says 'Greek food' even I still automatically think gyros. Incidentally, you know you are in Oklahoma (well, any state in this reigon) when you ask for gyros but pronouce it YEE-rohs and get a puzzled look for just a few seconds before the person behind the counter pipes up and says 'OH, you mean JI-rose. Yeah, we got those'. I kid you not friends, the lady at Ole-Town BBQ actually said that to me one fine August day not too long ago. But I'm getting sidetracked here.

The folks at Greek House are good people, and I mean that. They are always friendly, consistent with the lamb-spam and are not afraid to plate up the large portions! Seriously, it is all I can do to to finish a child's gyro plate on an empty stomach. They give you a massive portion of the lamb-spam, flatbread, a heapin dose of fries and of course, the obligatory Greek salad which I have always had a penchant for. I still remember my aunt being a bit freaked that a 5-year old loved feta cheese and kalamata olives. Oh, a quick word about the aforementioned lamb-spam. I know it is not the 'real-deal' but it is soooo good it simply can't be denied. I can also tell you that it is exactly the same stuff the street vendors were serving in the Dubai, UAE and Pattaya Beach, Thailand so the US isn't the only country who loves it! You get all of that for $3.75 w/o the flatbread, $4.25 with. The only thing I could possibly complain about, and I had to think hard about this, is they are a bit stingy with the tsatziki, but if you ask for a bit extra they will gladly hook you up. All of this, combined with its location which is just off campus, means that the place is almost always crowded. The best way to do Greek House is to get the food to go, plop down in front of the tube in the comfort of your own home, break out the paper towels and get down!

So there you have it; affordable, tasty, ethnic 'cuisine' that is consistently good and served by people who seem to love what they do and do it with a smile. Can it get any better for four-and-a-quarter?

FOXNews.com - Top Stories - Man Killed During Initiation at Masonic Lodge

First off, this is truly a sad thing to have happened, and my heart goes out to the families involved. But how can this be called "accidental"? The person pointed the gun at the man and intentionally pulled the trigger. This is a perfect example of an unintentional discharge.

One more post for the night, and I'm done, I swear!

Most of you know that I work evenings, and when I get home Aimee and I do all the stuff day-shifters do when they get off work. This includes, of course, shopping. Problem with our schedule is that everything but wm is closed. As a result, we do lots of on-line shopping. Probably 60% of our gear is on-site purchases. The only problem with this is you sometimes get a stinker. Fortunately, though, there are some really reputable retailers who offer, imo, great prices and no local sales tax (unless they have a brick-and-mortar in your state).

So, I wanted to take a few to let you all know about a company who has impressed me so far with their customer service. Customer service is a lost art as far as I'm concerned and could perhaps be more accurately described as customer tolerance, i.e. 'we love our customers until we get their money, then they can get stuffed'. This seems to be the current business trend and it is quite disturbing at least and can be infuriating to the point of...well, let's not say.

The company is Car Toys. They sell general electronics stuff, but car accessories as well. Aimee has been trying to get some clear tail lights for her Acura for some time now. The first attempt went down in smoke when the idiots sent the wrong style lights and then refused to exchange them. If I could remember their name, I would give it to you so you never, ever order from those ingrates. This time, she ordered from CarToys and they got here a bit slower than expected, but they were the right part. But then Aimee noticed that they sent her the wrong brand and they should have been a lot cheaper than what we were charged. So she calls them up, and points out the discrepancy and they actually refunded $77 dollars right there on the phone! I nearly fell out when she told me that one.

Great, everything is good. But then...we notice that the right tail lens assembly has some condensation in it. More accurately, a lot of condensation. So she calls them again and guess what? They are going to have UPS do a drop ship ticket tomorrow! They are going to pay for the return shipping and re-process the entire order with absolutely no hassles. None of that 'let me speak with your manager' or 'let me tell you how this is going to go' stuff. Nothing. Just plain customer service, the way it should be.

So please, if you are needing something for your sweet ride, give these guys your consideration. I really think the only way to punish bad retailers is by being good consumers and just not going back to the people who have done us wrong.

Kelly brought this to our attention. I have taken a few to read some of the posts, and they were quite funny. I plan on bookmarking this and reading more as time allows, but I thought some of you may find this of interest as well.

Thanks to Kelly for sending it over.

Say No To Sprogs!

I've decided to go ahead and add the comments. I initially chose the email route to try to eliminate (as I discussed with Jefe) the possibility of cybervandals using our comments as a tag-board in some kind of derranged internet turf war. This has obviously not been the case for Jefe's comments, so I'm sure it is quite safe. Also, I retain the ability as admin to delete posts should one of those ne'erdowells decide to tag my comments.

I made the decision after two different people mentioned they found it curious that I don't have them. Rob H. hadn't been keeping up with the blog, he said, because it was to "one way" and I was initially cool with that. After all, this is my blog. If you have something to say, email me or get your own blog. I've since decided that there are posts that I would really like to believe are getting people to think. Adding the comments should serve to allow alternate viewpoints to be expressed, thereby furthering the thought process, including my own. I know I can be, at times, closed minded to a fault, but at least I'm willing to listen, which is more than you can say about ½ of America.

So what about the rest of the posts? They are there to give me a place to share, rant, wank, espouse and otherwise purge my conscious of things that are just generally wearing me out.

So without further delay, I give you comments.

How is it that it seems only the truly crappy songs off the CDs make it on to the radio? For the longsest time, I was under the mistaken impression that White Stripes was truly horrible. This was, of course, based on the opinions formed from hearing the same 3 songs over and over and over again on commercial radio and the MTV.

There is actually a decent station here in OKC, but I can't pick it up in the building I work in, and just barely in my home garage. So as a rule, I generally get to listen to the SPY only while working on projects in the garage.

So last summer, I noticed I was hearing these songs that didn't suck and sounded an awful lot like White Stripes. Sure enough, they were songs off their self-titled CD, which I am currently listening to on MD. There are times when I hear Robert Plant singing instead of Jack White, which really shows their influences imo, but they are somehow more than the sum of their apparent influences, all the while getting that sound by using a 30+ year old guitar and a single-bass drum kit. Now that is bold. At times, I also hear the influence of old, and I mean old, school blues and at times even a hint of rockabilly.

I even find that I enjoy the songwriting and arrangement; everything just seems to fit and still keep that 'stripped down ' kind of feel that is all but gone from the Elephant CD.

All too often, it is the case that what you hear on the radio is a perfect example of what you get on the CD, but occasionally, you get a nice surprise. Makes me wonder what else I have missed.

FOXNews.com - Top Stories - Raw Data: Iraqi Constitution: "arms"

If the UN had their way, this could be your consitution. Of particlular interest to me is Article 17.

Remember, unarmed citizens aren't really citizens at all. Subjects would be a more accurate term.

Turns out lame Honda-Guy was even more lame than I thought. The url he gave me is wrong. It's a dot-net, not a dot-com and there is no 'i'. Also, there is not one scrap about the SUT that I can find. Lamer. Since he wrote this on his personal business card, I could put his name on a webpage, along with his fax and business number, but I'm not going to be 'that guy'.

Not now, anyway.

It's been a long time coming, but it is now up! It's simple. It's red. It's new. It's easy to access by hitting the POTW link on the right side.

Don't be shy, go ahead and get ya-self some-o-dat!

Well, as indicated, I did make it to the OKC car show today. Rob and I got up waaaay to early (he was probably already up in actuality) and trekked north to the state fair grounds. Quick side note: that place needs a renovation! The car show was actually spread across 4 of the many buildings, so it took a bit of walking to see the entire thing, but it was a nice day so it was all good.

We checked out the many offerings from domestic and foreign manufacturers alike, and I came to one, if only one, solid conclusion: Chevrolet is making the absolute world's ugliest vehicles. It would seem, judging by the large number of gaping maws around the Chevy SSR, that I am alone in this conclusion. Oh well, those people can shell out the 45K for a vehicle that isn't really a sports car or a truck, and imo isn't enough of one or the other to make it truly functional on either front. The bed is too small to be practical for anything except grocery gettin' and it is far too long on wheelbase to be a true sports car. Hybrid nonsense, is what I'll call it.

I was pleasently suprised by the new Mitsubishi Galant however, as it was much more refined and roomy than I expected even looking at the car from the outside. It will never be the Acura TL though. The Wayne 'Award for Hands-Down Coolest Car' has to go to the Mini Cooper. Despite its tiny exterior, the driver area is well laid out with everything where it should be and all business. Shifting through the gears felt positve and a bit notchy, but that's what I like. The doors felt waaaay more substantial then their appearance would indicate and the switches and knobs all felt solid; not like they would break the first time you turned on the radio (which is more than I can same for some cars costing a full 10k more). I would've loved the chance to test drive one of those, but I didn't see one on the test track they had set up by the B-52 on a stick. By the way, the Mini does have 4 seats, but the back ones are for decoration only. Putting a person back there could amount to cruel and unusual punishment in some countries.

By all accounts things were going well; the Acura area yielding all kinds of tasty goodness in the form of the TL and the MDX, in both of which I took my sweet time luxuriating and soaking in all that Acura magic that makes me just melt. Oops, sorry about that. Got a little weird there. To carry on, I got in the Hummer H1, which is the only real hummer, btw, just to find out that for all its oversized stature, the stupid thing barely seats four! Which comes up to about 26K a seat! That makes the H1 even more expensive than the 98K Mercedes, that I smudged up with my dirty little mits while getting a picture of the sticker (which I thought more interesting than the car). We finally got around to the all time coolest gadget for a car, to date anyway. The Forward Looking Infrared Radar (FLIR) put in the grill on the new Caddys. This was taken directly from military aircraft and doesn't really serve any true purpose in a car, but it is super-cool to the Nth power. They call it something lame, but it was and always will be FLIR. Check it out! Notice how my camera and watch are black because they are cold? How is that for absolutely useless but supremely and undeniably cool?

Unfortunately, the show would end on a sad note. We had saved the Honda exhibit for last, hoping to see the new SUT (which will be my next truck, btw) but they let me down! To make it worse, they didn't even have a brochure for me to take home and drool over. That's my fault for waiting 'til the last day of the show, but I'll blame lame Honda-Guy. Apparently, I know more about this truck than he does, which is really embarassing because I got all my info from the Honda website! Here's how it went:
Me: Hi, Where's the SUT?
LH-G: We don't have one for shows yet. Here's the brochure though. (whips out SUT flier)
Me: Do you know if they are still going to start production in 2005?
LH-G: Nothing for sure yet.
Me: OK, do you know the price point they are shooting for?
LH-G: Nope, sure don't. Nothing's really set yet.
Me: MMM. I see. Do you have a brochure I can take with me?
LH-G: Sorry, this is our last one. But www.ivtec.com should have lots of 'rumor' informaiton
Me: Yeah, thanks.
Then there was just a second or two when we made eye contact and it was as if I said 'man, could you be any less helpful?' to which he would've replied 'No, but let me give you my card so when you do buy one, you can get it from me 'cause I'll be a familiar, although completely useless, face'.

Oh well, there's always next year.

Got the power supply swapped out today. I tell you what, you want to find out how much you really use your computer? Break it for a day. Turns out I am a lot more junkied-up than I thought. I rapidly figured out that I could not: check the weather, sync up my visor, check movie times, find out about the OKC car show, get news when I want to get it, check my email, blog or even whoop-down on the Unreal Tournament 2004 demo, but more on that later. Well, I could do most of that on the lame laptop, which isn't even really mine. The company hooked up all the stupervisors with laptops so we could dial in on the weekends and check out the state of affairs, so to speak, at work. That poor thing was fast for its day, but its day was 4 years ago. It is practically antiquated by today's standards. PIII 233 with 128M of ram and a 4G HD. Yeah, boy! And the kicker is that it was $3400 dollars when it was new. I saw the PO slip! It's good to be back on the big machine

About that Unreal Tournament 2004 demo: It is absolutely delicious! Truth be told, it is the main reason I haven't been very long winded of late. You can blame it on SIL and BIL1. They came into town last weekend, he hipped me to the download, and I have been needin my fix pretty regular since I got it installed. Word of caution: it is a huge download, so if you are on dial up, have a bud on cable or DSL download it and burn it for you. It is everything UT2003 should have been and a bit more for good measure. Game play is smooooth, even online and it is absolutely jerk-free. 2003 was real jerky, even with single player, off-line. UT2004 is much better in that regard. If you are a fan of the first-person shooter, get it as soon as possible!

In other news, S659 was amended, then voted on, then put down hard! You may recall earlier I mentioned this one because it would have prohibited frivilous lawsuits against firearm manufacturers and dealers. Well the Dems stuck on two riders at the last minute. One to extend the AWB, and the other to close the supposed gun-show loop hole. The amendments were narrowly passed, but when they voted on the amended bill, it was promptly smacked down by a 90-8 vote! Now that is good news because it says two things: first, that there was pretty wide bi-partisan support for S659, but secondly, when it was changed to include the extension of the awb, only 8 senators would still vote on it. That tells me they still remember how many people were voted out after voting for that lame awb. There may be hope yet. In a related bit, I mentioned that Lautenberg had already written a bill to extend and strengthen the awb but it has been pretty well tabled. Now, there is a version introduced by one of my personal favorite senators, Dianne Feinstein, which would just authorize the current ban for 10 more years. This one appears to be the more likely of the two to pass if one does. By the way, if Chuck Schumer and Dianne Feinstein had a baby, do you think it would have horns?

Finally, I know I'm behind on the POTW. I shot a bunch of stuff while I was making my sweet and sour chicken, but they just lacked that pop I was looking for. I may have to go to the OKC car show and get some this weekend. I might also have to stop by the new Sysco distribution center here in Norman, cause a group of workers out there is on strike! I drove by about midnight, and they were still at it. I am also a bit curious about what they are striking over. In any event, I'll have something up this weekend.

Double-Dang!

Aimee called me tonight at work to inform me that the computer had died. Since I missed her call initially, I quietly prayed she was talking about the laptop in her voicemail as I hit the speed-dial digit for home; after all, it has been doing strange 'Windows 98 things' lately.

Needless to say, my heart sunk as I heard her say the words, No, it's the big machine. EGAD! I just replaced all the fans, modified the processor heat sync so it would use an 80mm case fan vice the puny flat fan that came on the original, put on new silicone grease and even added an extra case fan. The motherboard, processor, video card and memory are all less than a year old, so I was stumped. She thought it was the power supply because the power kept going on and off in rapid succession.

Have I ever mentioned that one of my favorite qualities about my wife is that she is a smart woman? Aside from doing the interior design of the entire house, finishing all our new furniture and designing the deck/awning she nailed the problem on the head. The fan in the power supply has died so it's getting pretty toasty in there. Apparently there is a heat-sensing relay that kicks the power off when it gets too hot. Seems this one is malfunctioning though, 'cause it lets the power come right back on after only 15 seconds of cooling down. This obviously leads to endless cycling of the power supply. It appears there will be a trip to Norman Computer Supply in the way-too-early hours of tomorow morning.

The following is an email, in its entirety, that Jefe sent over regarding the state of culinary affiars here in central OK. He makes several good points, so read up!

See, I've got this theory. Every time someone carps to me about seafood (sorry) in Oklahoma (specifically "there's no coast"), I ask them if they really think they're pulling salmon out of the freakin' East River. Come on. How much seafood is really fresh? I mean, I'm certainly no oceanographer, but I don't think tuna boats, lobster boats, shrimp boats and salmon (for instance) boats deliver the same shit to every city up and down the coasts.

Boston, maybe. NYC, I'm sure, gets a pretty good selection. SF, no doubt.

You're right, OKC (and Norman, by extension) is a wasteland for actual food. Until you start with the ethnic stuff. Norman being a suburb, I reckon there's even less down there. But remember Chelino's, and Sala Thai, and Gopuram. Stick w/the ethnic, sir.

Jefe

FOXNews.com - Business - McDonald's Phasing Out Supersize Fries, Drinks

Read this link.

Then read THIS LINK.

See a correlation? Thanks to Jason for bringing this to our attention.