big cliché

This last week has been all about some guns. As I suspected, my FFL guy did call Tuesday afternoon, which means I should've been able to pick up the 642 Wednesday morning, but there was no way I was going to be able to do that and get more than two hours sleep. So I trekked up there Thursday (not really expecting the payment for the Beretta to be here this week) and picked up the 642. As Murphy's Law would have it, since I didn't expect the payment this week, newb got it in my hands in what could almost be considered record time. He even popped for priority mail so it would get here lickety-split. Since I was up there Thursday morning, the payment shows up Thursday afternoon. Which meant a trip right back up there Friday morning to transfer his pistol (all transfers have to go through a FFL holder, whether I'm shipping or receiving). What this all really means is that I spent most of the week getting up way too early after going to bed way too early (which explains the blatant lack of bloggin') but it was worth it. What could be better than selling a pistol that wasn't working out to get one that is perfect? Well, as perfect as it can be, considering its intended purpose. Seriously, this Smith is light! The website lists it as 15 oz. empty, and I expect it's just over a pound with 5 rounds of .38 Special +P JHPs contained therein. It practically disappears in a front pocket. For comparison, the Beretta was 27 oz. empty, and would not even go into a front pocket. Sure, it held 10 rounds (plus one in the pipe) but if I wasn't going to carry it, then it really didn't matter, did it?

Another "gun" thing I was trying to work out last week is which particular firearm I should spend even more hard earned cash to obtain. Guess what? There is not a single pistol or rifle currently out there worthy of my good ol' US dollars. I never thought I would ever have to say I can't find a gun to purchase. How's that for crazy talk? Of all the goodies made by Beretta, Kimber, Springfield Armory, H&K, Sig, Colt, Walther, Smith, Seecamp, and all the other fine names in international firearms manufacturing I was unable to find just one that said "Wayne, you must buy me. Now, bizzle". The one pistol that was looking like it might be a winner was the Beretta 92 Steel-I. The only problem? It's made of steel. The thing is like 42 oz. empty. Well that and it is around $1200, which is waaaaay out of my budget, not to mention just too dang much to spend on a factory pistol. Other than than those two deal breakers, it is exactly what I would want in my next Beretta--Vertec-style grip, Brigadier slide, frame mounted safety which does not de-cock the hammer when engaged and low-profile Novak-style sights. I dig it so much, I even emailed Beretta asking when they were going to make an alloy-frame version (which would no doubt cost less and be much lighter). So far, they haven't seen fit to email with any kind of reply other than the "we got your message" autoreturn. Despite their lack of cordiality, if they ever decide to produce an alloy frame version of this pistol I am there.

For a while, I entertained thoughts of building a custom 1911 based on a mil-spec Springfield Armory, but even that just wasn't doing it for me. Checked out the Kimber polymer frame high-cap's, but they didn't get the blood pumping either. And while were talking about Kimber, could someome please tell me when they starting making their pistols from some rare steel that is 2/3 more expensive than regular steel? Dang, kids, they don't even flinch about asking $1000+ for a 1911, and that's just wrong. Unless you're name is Les Baer or Bill Wilson. And don't even get me started on Chip McCormick.

So then, for the time being anyway, I think I've got just about everything needed to handle any kind of shooting situation one may encounter this side of Africa. Home defense, personal defense, target shooting, plinking, or even hunting--I got it all covered. Well, with the possible exception of 1000-meter target matches, that is. But in the really real world, I don't even know of a 1000m range in the state so the point of a rifle capable of accurately placing shots at 1 kilometer (for me) is moot.

So for now, I'll be looking over some high-quality photographic gear from my friends at Nikon, paying particular attention to super-wide angle zooms, and hoping that the gun industry as a whole can present something new that will once again make me feel like that proverbial kid in the candy store.

I sure do enjoy long weekends. Especially when I am not on-call.

To recap, food day was the super-buddha of all food days. I am not joking one tiny bit when I say that the sesame chicken Tim brought was the absolute, hands down, best sesame chicken I have ever tasted. Period. Words fail to do it justice. Here's the bummer part though: his girlfriend, the one who actually made it, won't give up the recipe! Oh well, I love a good culinary challenge so I'll just have to figure it out. Everything else was muy delicioso too, but that chicken will forever have a special place on my tastebuds. (This is where the haunting piano composition would come in if this were a screenplay)

As far as Saturday goes, I honestly can't remember what I did outside of driving to the ci-tay to get dog food. I don't know which is worse: having to drive all the way to Britton and Western to get dog food, or not remembering what I did after that! Oh yes, I ran a bunch of other equally exciting errands that I will not bore you with.

In other news, my pistol sold on Gunbroker, but the buyer is a total newb so it may take a bit longer to complete the transaction that it normally would. No real biggy though, 'cause my S&W 642 should be here this week. Aw yeah! In fact, I'll be surprised if they don't call me tomorrow to come pick it up. And while we're talking about guns, I was thinking today about what it would take to get my very own personal FFL (federal firearms license) and start selling on the internet and through Gunbroker. The fee is a lot more reasonable than I thought it would be. I always figured the FFL would cost somewhere in the neighborhood of 2 grand (and I have no idea why) but I found today that it is only $200 for the first three years, then $90 to renew--only I can't remember if the renewal period is one year or three. Some of you may be thinking "yeah, that's exactly what the world needs: another small-arms dealer". But it kind of makes sense. I have always wanted a side bidness, I do know a lot about modern firearms and I'm all about some hot internet action. The only obvious drawbacks are dealing with A) the jack-booted thugs known as the BATF and B) the black helicopter goons. Then there's the whole bit about whether or not I want mysterious and possibly even nefarious figures coming to my house to pick up their firearms. Sadly, the "gun owner's club" has some real ahem...colorful characters and I'm not sure I want some of them knowing where I live--and suspecting that there might be a safe full of brand-new guns somewhere on the premises. Again, just a thought.

Finally, it is paint time again. Aimee and I finally got to painting the soon-to-be-music-studio guest bedroom. It is a delightfully deep gray with a lighter gray ceiling. Whoop-dilly-icious. If you're going to paint, for God's sake, people, put some color on those walls. Don't waste your time with the 57 different shades of white--they're all still white. And white sucks. Period. White is the color contractors put on walls so people won't freak out when they look at a house. I have gotten so used to all the color in this house that when I go to other houses, I always forget that we are the odd couple and think they haven't painted yet. But just so you know that we are not alone in our love of color, look in any home magazine and see how many of their "photo homes" have white walls. And if you paint and you don't like it you can paint over it! I swear some folks must beleive once you paint, that's it. Sorry, you can never paint over that color again. You are now stuck with it for the rest of your life. As afraid of color as some people are, you would think someone told them the color would be so permanent that it would even follow them to their new house! Paint is the asbolute cheapest and fastest way to change the entire look and feel of a room so please, don't be afraid of paint. Paint is our friend.

February Food Day is upon us and it is going to be a good one. I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner, but tonight is Asian!

Paul made a kind of Thai-inspired chicken soup with coconut milk (where are the coconut teats?) lemon grass and lime juice/leaves.
Jason made a chicken stir fry mit onion, broccoli, bean sprout, oyster sauce, carrots and mushrooms.
Tim brought a whoop-daddy lookin' sesame chicken.
Neil made some appetizer-sized eggrolls.
I made sweet-n-sour pork.
Rob, as usual, brought the utensils and green freakin' tea. GREEN TEA! Blech.
Sadly, Chris won't be joining us this evening because he was transferred into a different department on our HD for a 90-day detail.

Since I am all about Asian foods, this is without a doubt going to be the best food day so far. Tim even remembered the fortune cookies!

Now I'm not one of those highfalutin learned folk, what have a degree and all, but I assure you I'm no simpleton and I have even been known to solve the odd mathematical equation from time to time. Even though I can usually tell a Picaso from a Pollock, I'll be the first to admit that I am thorougly and one-hundred percent confused when it comes to what is art and what is not. Nor do I understand why two seemingly very similar pieces will usually be interpreted very differently. Consider these two drawings. Drawing #1 is "Borrowed Time" by John Lennon. Drawing #2 is "Trying to Prove a Point" by none other than your humble author. Obviously neither one of them is going to win any awards, but I guarantee you, despite their similiar, simplistic styles, Lennon's will always be sold as art, and mine will never, ever be sold--as you fine folks will no doubt be the only ones to ever see my hurried sketch.

Is it the intent behind the piece that makes it art? I have often heard folk art referred to as "naive" indicating that it is pretty, but not really "art" because it is uninspired, or merely decorative. Well if that is the case, where does art glass come in to the picture? (heh-pun intended) Must one be in a transcendental state before any resulting work can be considered art? I'm not asking these questions to be flippant; I seriously don't know. I can spend hours looking at stuff in galleries, but I have to admit most of the time, once I am past the initial "this is XXXXX", I am just trying to find what made the curator of said gallery pick the piece I'm viewing over another. A good example was the giant trout paintings displayed last year at MainSite here in Norman. They were large, square canvases displaying different species of appropriately large trout. To me, they were whimsical and very reminiscent of the fish paintings on display at most Red Lobster restaurants. Yet there they were in all their four-foot by four-foot glory hanging in a contemporary art gallery? Stupifying.

Another "art" thing that I find equally mystifying is performance art. I remember last year hearing about this world-famous performance artist who did some of the most derisory things ever conceived by the human mind. Wolfgang Flatz was his name, and a crowd of 7000 was present in Berlin to watch him dangle naked from a crane, covered in his own blood that he had been collecting for months, 1 pint at a time, until he passed out. The climax of the show was a helicopter flying up to drop a cow carcass into a pit rigged with small explosives. All the while, there was to be a full orchestra playing classics from the European masters. Friends, if you can enlighten me as to how that is art, I'll buy you dinner. (It should be noted that no one is ever gonna convince me that mess is art, but I might cook you dinner if you find your way to Norman).

One more problem with this whole art thing is that if you aren't one of the socialistas or art nazis then they don't seem to want to have a lot to do with you. It seems as if they are genuinely miffed by having to explain the whole thing to us uneducated folk--who certainly wouldn't be able to comprehend such a high-minded concept as art in the first place. You know what I think? I think they don't know either.

FOXNews.com - Foxlife - Lawsuit: 'Grand Theft Auto' Led Teen to Kill

I've said it before and I'll say it again: if your kid can be pushed over the edge by any video game, tv show or band, you have FAILED. Yes, I said FAILED. Not only did you fail to instill a sense of right and wrong in your offspring, but you also missed the boat on personal responsibility and accountability for your actions. Nice job.

Peter Pan's Home Page!

Last BlogThis link tonight, I swear. But I just had to share this site. This guy is without a down the whatup. Anyone who is bold enough to strut this stuff is getting a permalink. At least for a little while.

You absolutely must check out the fashion pages and the pixie friends pages. Oh yeah, now this is what the internet is all about!

WorldNetDaily: Nobel Peace Prize for Bush urged

Somebody give our friend Dusty a high-five for pointing out this one.

Frequently Asked Questions - Assault Weapon Registration - Firearms Division - California Dept. of Justice - Office of the Attorney General

I'm done reading this site now. I mean it. I do have one question for the AG of CA: Has any of this subterfuge stopped a single crime? Somehow, I doubt it very seriously.

.50 BMG Rifle Owners - Firearms Division - California Dept. of Justice - Office of the Attorney General

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I read this. I will say that the emphasized part about not just waltzing into the local copshop with your .50 would almost certainly be laughable if the sentence preceeding it did not read "Make arrangements with your local police or sheriff's office to relinquish your .50 BMG rifle". (emphasis mine)

The more I think about it, the more I think those folks in CA are just plain doomed.

The auction has started! Buy my gun. Now!

And what the heck are those little "gravatar" boxes in our comments this week? Anybody have a clue? Haloscan was useless earlier, but I may try to search it again later. Provided one of you can't tell me the whatup, that is.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages (and you too, Kelly) It is with a troubled mind and a heavy heart that I must report that the cliché will be no more. The experiment has been fun while it lasted, but as noted earlier, I will be packing my bags for Paris.

I saw tonight, while dropping off a movie at 7-11, a Ford Escort station wagon with heavy front end damage. The driver's side front fender was replaced with a nice black primered one, but that didn't stop the driver from installing one, yes just the one, spinner-style hub cap directly beneath the replaced fender. Bear in mind this was the only hub cap of any kind at all on the vehicle, but it just had to be a spinner.

Sadly, I must now learn French and how to go from zero to rude in a nanosecond. Shouldn't be too much of a stretch on rude, but that Francais is something else altogether. Maybe if I run my tongue through a shredder...

All you snapperheads out there in your Neons, Cavaliers, Focuses, or any car with four doors, listen up. Having the little "SE" logo on the nameplate does not make it a sports car. Stop driving like Fittipaldi, OK? And along those lines, if I see one more Neon with a carbon-fiber hood and four-foot wing, I'm moving. Straight to Paris!

Tasty.

That's all I have to say about getting up, heading straight to H&H and putting two-hundred rounds down range before breakfast. Tasty.

Spent a big part of the weekend at Aim's folks house celebrating her sister's birthday. Good food, good times and good company. Although I still can't figure out why I absolutely have to give her sister a hard time. I can't control it. I even told them last time that I am not a well man. Oh, by the way, I am the Pictionary king so I am thinking about going on the pro tour. Yeah, I bet that pays the bills!

I now know for sure what I have suspected for some time: Fred Baker, the old fart who runs Outdoor America Store, is actually the devil's henchman here in OKC. Allow me to elaborate. (i.e. here comes the long winded, whiny rant). In October of last year, when I was getting ready to sell the Kahr P9, I thought I would check with him to see what kind of trade-in credit he would give me towards the 9000s. After making me wait for almost 15 minutes, he wanders over to the window and starts checking out the pistol. He kind of 'hmmm's, and 'uh-huh's a few times, then asks what I'd like to do with it. I told him I was wanting to trade it in on a Beretta 9000. He gives another 'hmmmm', then says "Nope, I can't put that much in it" then gives me "the look" and asks "Do you have some kind of preconceived notion of what you'd like for this?". What? "Preconceived notion"? Who even says that anymore? As if I'm some mental case just making up numbers and have no idea about the actual value of the pistol. So I tell him that he's got one in his consignment case for whatever amount it was, and I thought 75% of that was fair. Again with the uh-huhs and then he busts off with "Where did you buy this?" I told him it was purchased H&H because he was out of stock on them at the time. Then he tells me "The only thing they sell are their used range guns." Huh? Every thing I've ever seen from them has been brand new, in the box, never fired. H&H only recently added used guns to their cases and most of those are consignments! Finally he says that he can't go that high on it and asks if I'll be continuing to shop. I informed him that would not be the case (not to be rude or anything, I just didn't have any more shopping to do that particular day) and I would be exiting, stage left. (There happened to be a door conveniently located four feet to my left at the time). Now I didn't expect to be coddled, but I certainly, as a frequent customer, did not expect to be dismissed as some kind of raving nutter.

Fast forward to last Thursday. I get up at freaking 10:30 am so I can drive up there to see what he'll give me for the like new Beretta 9000s (sorry, Beretta, it just didn't work out) towards the purchase of a S&W 642. (It should be noted here that I am just as fickle as a four-year-old when it comes to my pistols. If I don't like it, I just don't like it. The 9000s had everything going for it, but it simply didn't feel right in my hand. Sorry, has to go. On the other side of that coin, my tried and true 92FS will always have a spot in my safe and I will smack anyone who tries to take it away. Period. It is that good). So I get up there and after waiting 15 minutes in line just to have the pistol checked to make sure it is empty, I finally get back to the office. Apparently Fred is too busy to be bothered so one of the office ladies (who are always the ONLY helpful people in that store) gets up and asks what I would like to do. I explain it and she disappears into his office. She comes back out and explains that They sold them new for $342 (on which I corrected her and provided my receipt as proof) and that they would only be able to sell it for $300 since it was used. As a result the most they could give was $150. $150 for a pistol which cost well over twice that new. Obviously, Fred Baker is in business for Fred Baker (and I can't fault him for that) and return customers be damned! I expected him to try to dicker with me. Heck, I expected him to deal with me face-to-face, but it would seem people who have only purchased four pistols don't rate high enough. I guess you have to buy five before you're in his good graces.

So to wrap up a long story that should've been much shorter (if he hadn't been such stingy little bitch) I will now be purchasing the revolver I would have bought at Outdoor America Store from a nice guy in Jamison, PA--and saving $50 in the process. From this day on, when it comes to new purchases, I will always go to Outdoor America Store and take up his salesperson's time to look, touch and feel any prospective purchases before coming home and finding said item on Gunbroker.com. That way, his people do all of the "selling" but he gets none of the profits. I should've known it would end up this way after the whole "Ross-gate" debacle last time I was in there to buy the pistol. Yes, I realize that this whole attitude makes me seem as deep as a puddle in August, but we as consumers don't have to put up with the blow off, and the only way to let retailers know we aren't happy is by shopping somewhere else. Sure, I'm just one guy, but there are at least 4 of you reading who live in the OKC area, so I'm hoping you'll share this with your friends, and they'll share with theirs and so on down the line until Fred Baker's evil empire is no more! Hey, a guy can dream, right?

(Note: if any of you are curious about how one makes a legal interstate purchase, Gunbroker.com has a great tutorial or I would be happy to explain it. Just drop a line.)

Here's a copy of an email I just sent Chuck. I can't wait to see what kind
of reply, if any, I get from old boy.

Senator Schumer:

I am writing regarding a matter of no small concern on behalf of myself and, I suspect, a large number of law-abiding firearm owners all across this great nation.

Even though I am a not a New Yorker, but a proud Oklahoman, I felt this matter important enough to contact you directly. The matter at hand, Sir, is the now defunct ban on full-capacity magazines and "assault" weapons. Rather than bicker over semantics, I would implore you to defer these matters to the honorable members of our states' legislatures so they may determine what is best for each individual state. I feel the state legislators, who spend the majority of their year in their home states, have a great advantage in that they are vastly more accessible to the majority of their constituents than their counterparts in Washington. As a result, I believe the local lawmakers are uniquely qualified to make these kinds of decisions.

In short, if you feel there is a crime problem in New York, please do not impose more inane legislation on the nation as a whole. Work with your local lawmakers to achieve a workable, logical solution to whatever problem you may feel lingers in New York.

Respectfully,
Wayne Wright
Norman, OK

We interred Aunt Gert today. It was a nice ceremony. Nothing fancy, but still sincere and very heartfelt.

After that, we went to one of Aimee's aunt's house for food. That is what holds Southern Baptists together in times of sorrow, I think. When we were all done eating, Aimee's cousin Melinda, who assisted quite a bit with the arrangements, showed us the brochure for the casket. Get this: it has a five year, limited warranty. Let's get that one more time: five year, limited warranty. Now who, exactly, is going to make a claim on a faulty casket? Casket gnomes, I presume?

Yeah. Try and get your brain around that one.

You ever wonder where exactly that yellow-skinned wonder-fruit came from? I love bananas, and it occured to me that I take for granted how those lovelies end up on the shelves.

A while back, as I was looking over the way-too-green bananas at the wm, I started thinking about where they came from. I read almost 100% of the imported bananas are from Central and South America, which really means that someone (or a whole lot of someones) probably makes less than a buck a day so I can have fruit with my Smart Start. But the thing I was really wondering about is the lives of those people who do the picking, packing and shipping. What is that guy's day like? How long does he work? How many jobs does he take to make ends meet? I would imagine the days are long and hard--from sunup to sundown--which doesn't leave much time for a second, let alone third, job. I wondered if the guy who picks them is a migrant worker like all those who work their way across southern California moving from crop to crop as the year progresses. I wondered how many times that bunch of bananas changed hands and how many times they were handled along the way. All of this because I like to have a banana with my breakfast. Obviously I'm not alone in this particular pleasure so I don't feel like I am single-handedly breaking the banana guy's back, but (probably because of the coffee thing Jefe's involved in) I started to wonder if there are fair trade bananas out there.

If we get right down to it, it isn't just the bananas. How about those mangos, papayas or kiwis? How many things that you and I take for granted are literally keeping someone down because we, as a rule, are cheap monkeys? How many local dairy farmers have gone under because we want to pay twenty-five cents less per gallon of milk?

No need to worry--I'm not having some kind of mid-thirties socialist epiphany on you guys or anything like that. Like I said, it was just something I was thinking about the other day as I was cursing all the green bananas.

One of my all-time peeves are those who sign their correspondence "V/R". Which is super-cool person short hand for "Very Respectfully".

If the author of said correspondence had that much respect for me, wouldn't that person have taken the time and effort to spell out RESPECTFULLY?

I could just freaking beat someone.

I think I have achieved pro-slacker status.

Not only have I been slackin' here at the cliché, but I haven't been reading any blogs either! What a guy, huh? Sure, I've popped in a few, but not on a daily basis like I usually do. As far as the writing bit goes, nothing has really grabbed me lately and when I think something might, I over analyze it into oblivion. Usually when this happens I can pull a sea story out of my hat, but even that just seems too ho-hum.

One thing I can relay to you is this: if building PC's paid worth a hoot, I'd never leave the house again. I would just hang out here and build PC's all day in my pajamas and bathrobe, mailing them to burgeoning geeks all across America with a big, fat "Made just for you by a guy in his bathrobe" sticker smack-dab on the front of all those mundane beige cases. In fact, I spent a large part of the weekend doing just that. Well I was dressed at the time, but you get the vibe. The folks were in desperate need of a new PC, so they gave me the go-ahead to order up some parts and build a new system, just for them. It isn't anything cutting edge, but it is light years ahead of the system it replaced. They made the quantum leap from a PII 233/96MegRam/6GHDD to an AMD Sempron at 1.5Ghz with 512MegRAM/80GHDD. You should have seen their faces light up. But most important of all, they can check their email again! I am not joking when I tell you this is the third modem I have put in a computer at their house. I can only guess there are very frequent lightning hits on that antique copper phone line and it eats modems for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The obvious answer would be for them to get on cable or DSL, but just to give you an idea of how far out of town they live, please note that they were on a party line until 2 years after I moved out of the house! For those of you who don't know/remember what a party line is, imagine there are 3 phones in your home. Each extension can hear the other when picked up, right? Now imagine those same three phones are in 3 separate houses. I am not kidding. I was on a party line with, of all people, my high school principal, Mr. Floyd West. Now this could have been cool if his kids were A)close to my age, and B)not complete assmonkekys. No such luck. About the only advantage to this situation was that I was always the first to know when we were going to have a snow day, because the principle had to call the administrators on my party line! Anyway, they now have a functioning modem again so I'm hoping this one lasts more than a month.

We were told today that "Aunt Gert", as she was known, has gone to be with the Maker. Aunt Gert was born in 1907 and lived to the ripe-old age of 98. I've known her for several years and she was indeed a firecracker. This picture was taken at the 2001 Andes family reunion. No one was quite sure about the origin of that hat, only that it wasn't originally hers as evidenced by the "L" on the crown. But that was just the way she was. I don't know a lot about her life, having met her towards the end, but I do know that she was one of the most colorful, energetic people I have ever met. The first time I met her, she insisted on a hug and a kiss, and it didn't matter to her who you were. If you were present, you were family. I recall on the day I met her (although I can't remember exactly which family event it was) she gave Aimee and me some very solid advice. I don't think we were married at the time, but she said to us "Don't ever live beyond your means and you'll be fine." When she said it, I wasn't sure what brought it about, since we hadn't even been talking about finances, but I found out later that was kind of an Aunt Gert thing. And it doesn't change the fact that it is indeed sound advice. I surely hope that our days, if not as long, are as well-lived as hers. May she rest in peace.

The simple pleasure brought about by a good sourdough loaf should never be taken for granted.

Yahoo! News - Oklahoma City Residents Shocked By Bombing Video Game

I don't have the words for these idiots. If you find out who it is (google got me nothing) smack them twice for me.

When last we left our intrepid hero, he was headed to Ameritax to talk with Tena the Tax Lady in an effort to determine exactly how much tax he had overpaid.

Things were good, until last night when Aimee figured out that the tax lady who we pay to prepare our tax return correctly had assed up on a major portion of the tax deductions. "Gee, Wayne. How assed up?" you say? How about eight thousand dollars worth? Is that enough? Some of you may know that if you itemize your deductions, you can claim any medical/dental/vision premiums paid as a medical expense. Along with any co-pays, prescriptions and even mileage to and from the doc's office. Catch is that if the totals of these amounts is not more than 7.5% of your adjusted gross income, it doesn't count! So, when I sat down in her office Tuesday with all those "member benefit statements" sent by the insurance company, she incorrectly added the TOTAL BENEFITS PAID instead of the amounts PAID BY MEMBER--essentially claiming every single dime that the insurance company paid for all our vision, dental, and medical (including the surgery) from last year. Net result? I signed off on a fraudulent tax claim which netted me almost $1700 when you combine state and federal returns. I don't know the tax code, but I'm pretty sure that one lands you in the pokey. Which explains why I am sitting at the computer now instead of just rolling out of bed. I had to get up two hours early to drive back over to Ameritax to show her the error of her ways. I suppose if you want to assign blame, I should have checked her kung-fu right then while she was keying it in, but I was thinking that she knew how to read them, since it is what she does for a living. Note to self: never just think people know how to do their jobs. But in my defense, it was way too early for that kind of math, and I couldn't see her monitor as she was keying in all those digits.

So, I now have two amended returns that I will have to send out along with checks for $1700 that I don't get to keep. Thank God Aimee found the discrepancy before Uncle Sugar's bean counters. I have always wondered how many "deduction dollars" it takes to make a real dollar on your return, but this is most definitely not the way I wanted to find out.

I wonder if the State of the Union Address is what Thom Yorke had in mind when he wrote "sit down, stand up..."

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are not in posession of at least 50 gallons of potable water, a weeks worth of non-perishable food and plenty of flashlight batteries you are in trouble! I have been informed that the snow has started, and according to Gary England, Mike Morgan and Rick Mitchell, you are now going to die a slow painful death from snow.

Sorry, it can't be helped. Oklahoma is closed!

FOXNews.com - U.S. & World - North Korea Declares War on Long Hair

Still think communism is the way to go there, comrade?

I had no idea, but apparently I am crazy for the breakbeat. Technically, I think the vibe I'm digging is just referred to as "breaks" but you know how that goes--tomăto, tomāto, right? It's like house, only better--house bores me to tears. I always found it was just waaaay to repetitive, even back in the clubbin' days with Brother K. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have given any of it a second listen, but Aimee has been taking me on a magical journey through electronica and I have to say I'm starting to enjoy the trip. It all started, for me anyway, when we recorded the Ultra Music Festival from cable. There was this DJ at the end who was spinnin' some mad crazy beats... Wait a sec, that just isn't working, is it? I guess I'll never be that hip. Seriously though, he was playing some of the hardest stuff of the whole event. Aimee called it "the stuff that scares the kids". Yeah. I like that. So I guess the whole point is that it's good stuff, Maynard, and if you dig, then you should check out Destroyer.net Radio on your WinampRadio. Mmmm, good.

In a completely unrelated topic, the W-2 I had been waiting on arrived today, so I will take all the recipts, get up way too early, head to Ameritax and get with Tina the Tax Lady. All I gots to say about that is she better not be busy, and I better be getting some supa-phat stacks back this year. If not, that means they haven't been witholding the proper amount of state taxes since we switched employers after RCI lost the contract. (Speaking of RCI, now that I am no longer employed by them, I can wholeheartedly say that it is the offical opinion of big cliché and its author that those people at HQ, without a shadow of a doubt, make up the most inept excuse for a company I have ever worked for.) I have been purposely claiming married, but witholding at the higher single rate for years just so we are sure to get a refund. I got shafted once by the state, and I decided right then and there it would not happen again. Sure, some people say I'm giving Uncle Sugar an interest free loan, but I don't care. I would just end up spending the money instead of saving it, so doing it this way is kind of like a savings bond, but without the interest. I like to think of it as a bonus just for being us.

Aimee has been working on designing the house for sometime now and it is good. It's a ways off yet, but one day we will build it. Oh yes, build it we will! It is two very open floors with a basement master suite that will smack you down twice and call you Esmerelda. It is that good. We love open floor plans and this one is all about open. The dining/kitching/sitting floor (which is the entry level floor) is completely open except for the entry and a powder room. The second floor is the spare bedrooms and office, and the basment is the master suite of love, baby. It will contain the full sectional that is in the living room of our current house, the big screen, built-ins to hide a weight bench and a folding treadmill, more closet space than even she can fill, (heh) and the laundry room is right off the master closet. That way, when the clothes are done you don't have to carry them all the way back up stairs. Brilliant, eh? The reason the master suite is in the basement? Simple: darkness. We need it to sleep during the day, and what a better place for the bigscreen when it's movie time? Again, brilliant. The whole thing is rockadelic and shouldn't break the bank. It is around 2300sqft and basically a big 30'X 26' box. I haven't mentioned the garage because it will be detatched and has yet to be designed. The coolest part is that she's been keying the whole thing into an old 3D rendering program we got waaay back called Complete Home by Sierra which has enabled us to "walk through" a house that doesn't even exist. Ain't technology grand? And of course, the whole thing will be ultra-modern design. Is there any other style? I didn't think so. It is gonna be suh-weeeet.