Cartoon Saturday...and a Holiday Ball Photo

The auto makers have finally gotten their bailout, Hamas has decided not to renew it's cease-fire with Israel, skeletal remains found in Florida have been confirmed as those of a missing toddler (whose mother is now accused of murder), an Iranian religious court has decided a man will be blinded with acid as punishment for doing the same to a woman he'd been stalking, and there are still 31 days in the Bush administration.

Thank goodness we still have Cartoon Saturday.

As I noted above, the gentle and peace-loving folks at Hamas announced this week that they will not renew their cease-fire with Israel, Israel has just killed another Palestinian leader in an air attack, and the Taleban is on the march in Afghanistan. This cartoon about sums it all up...


We had a major crisis last night at bedtime when Agnes discovered she didn't have anything to read. I tried to interest her in ... um ... other activities, but she wasn't in the mood for humor. And speaking of reading and crummy puns...

The banks and financial managers have gotten their bailout, and so have GM and Chrysler. I'm sure ours must be coming any day now...it's Christmas, after all...

The watchword this year is change. It doesn't really matter what we change to, as long as we change. Perhaps some change is good...


And finally, sometimes you just get inspired for the right gift for that hard-to-please individual...

If you're one of those people who only visits me here for Cartoon Saturday, have a safe and happy Christmas. If you're one of those intellectual masochists who visits every day to hear what Bilbo is bitching about, I'll see you tomorrow.

Have a good day. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo

P.S. - Last night we had the annual Christmas Ball at the dance studio. It was a happy (and somewhat silly, as you can see) crowd. Hope you've been having some happy holiday parties, too...

B.

Friday Miscellany

As I surf the web, I often find interesting (or infuriating) news articles, websites, and other items that get my posting gland secreting (no comments, Mike). When this happens, I bookmark them or e-mail the URLs to myself and store them in a file called "Blog Fodder" until I need a topic about which to write.

Well, just as the universe is expanding at a faster and faster rate, so too is my Blog Fodder file, and so it's time to haul out a few odd topics and offer my witty commentary thereon...

In an article reposted on Yahoo News this past Wednesday, Reuters news service reported the results of a survey which asked people to identify admirable jobs, which professions they trust or do not, who is overpaid, and which profession they would prefer to marry. On the marriage front, 16% of respondents nominated doctors, nurses and other health care professionals as their preferred marriage partners, higher than any other profession; educators scored 14% and scientists, 10%. As to the most trusted professions, educators and doctors led the pack with an overwhelming 86 and 87 percent, followed by homemakers and those in science and technology. At the bottom? The media, marketing, and retail sales. Lawyers and corporate executives were cited as among the most overpaid professionals (shocking, isn't it?).

There was no mention of financial mismanagers, or child molesters.

Speaking of financial management, in this article, CNN reported on the phenomenon of "rate-jacking," in which credit card companies suddenly spike the rates charged their customers with no warning other than a brief notice in the time-honored "fine print" of the statement. The article cites examples of rates jumping from 9.5% to 16.99% with no clear warning. CitiGroup, a major credit card issuer, wouldn't talk to CNN about it, but said this in a written statement: "To continue funding in this difficult credit and funding environment, Citi is repricing a group of customers." Good luck if you got "repriced." I think there's some hope, though, as yesterday the Fed was reported to have voted to crack down on the most egregious activities of the credit card firms. (I'll write more about this in another post because, while I think credit card issuers are often the most greedy of predators, there's another side to the story...as Agnes, who works in a credit union, never ceases to remind me).

On a somewhat brighter topic, here is an interesting site for you to visit: the Life Expectancy Calculator. This "virtual age" calculator starts with your current age and walks you through a series of 32 questions dealing with your lifestyle, habits, family health history, and environment, and ends up presenting you with two figures: your "virtual age" (which may be more or less than your real age, depending on how honestly you answered the questions), and your projected life expectancy. My scores, starting with my real age of 57, were: Virtual Age - 49.9; and Life Expectancy - 85.1. Give it a try, if you dare...

And finally, from the Department of What On Earth Were They Thinking? comes this story about a store that refused to decorate a birthday cake for a child named Adolf Hitler Campbell. Little Adolf, it seems, also has a sister named JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell. You have to get a license to get married...too bad you don't also have to get one to be a parent.

That's all for now. Time to get ready for work, and then tonight is the big Christmas Ball at the dance studio. Dancing with beautiful ladies is good. Dancing with beautiful ladies in formal gowns is better. Eat your hearts out, guys.

Have a good day. Cartoon Saturday comes tomorrow.

Bilbo

Late Again...

It looks like it's going to be one of those days...I am behind schedule and don't have enough time to write a proper post this morning. I'm on time and awake enough, though, to remain cranked about the ongoing discussion of bailouts. This about sums up my thoughts on the subject:

If I can get my act together, I'll try to post something better later today. Otherwise, I'll see you in this space tomorrow.

Have a good day. More thoughts later.

Bilbo

Clean Sheets

Well, I'm still not feeling altogether well, but since Mike and John have made such a fuss about it, I guess I'll go back to work today. When the rest of my office comes down with the Stomach Virus from Hell, I'll have them call you guys to complain.

In line with my theory that great minds work on the same wavelength, I would like to point out three events that all lined up yesterday in the Great Karmic Crapshoot of the Universe: Mike wrote a post about sweat, Fiona posted about her unfortunate bodily reaction to certain perfumes, and I did a few loads of laundry.

Trust me, this is going somewhere.

Of our five senses, the one we most often think of and rely on is sight; but some scientists believe the sense of smell may have been more important to our evolutionary development...early man probably smelled predators long before he saw them. When something is wrong, "we smell a rat," a bad deal "doesn't smell right," and really bad news can "stink to high heaven."

Smells can be good, too. The smell of bread baking in the kitchen has long been used by canny real estate agents to get prospective house buyers into a homey mood and we plant flowers to scent the air. The sense of smell is closely linked to memory: how many times have you visited some place from your past and had a sudden, overwhelming sense of being there in the past because of the smell of the place? (I last experienced this when I walked into my old high school for our 30th reunion, and was almost instantly swept back to the 1960s).

We spend bazillions of dollars each year on soaps, deodorants, perfumes, colognes, and other things designed to cover up our natural scents...not all of which work as intended, as Fiona has discovered. But we each have our unique smell, and it's important. A baby recognizes the scent of its parents, and I'm quite sure I could identify Agnes in a pitch black room just by the warm and wonderful smell of her hair and skin.

All of which finally brings me back around to the laundry.

One of the loads of wash I did yesterday included our bed linen, and let me tell you, there is nothing in all the world like the smell and feel of clean sheets. It's a sensation that only lasts a few brief minutes, but I think it's one of the great pleasures of life. Agnes probably thinks I'm crazy, but the smell of clean sheets just brings a sense of comfort, peace, and security that nothing else quite matches.

And this seemed like a good topic to write about today, since I've been feeling pretty sheety for the last few days, anyhow.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

A Few Random Thoughts on Science Fiction

The other day Mike posted a review of sorts of the new Keanu Reeves movie The Day the Earth Stood Still. Actually, his review was more concerned with the need for potty breaks during long movies, which is resonating with me as I continue fighting off this $@#! stomach virus and having to run to the bathroom every ten minutes.

But back to The Day the Earth Stood Still.

The movie is, as you know by now, an update of the 1951 film of the same name, which starred Michael Rennie as Klaatu. That version, while looking pretty dated today, is a true sci-fi classic, and reflected the concerns of the time: in 1951 the Cold War was raging and nuclear destruction was everyone's concern...Klaatu and his robot Gort came to earth to tell humankind to cut it out, or they'd put a stop to us. The new version of the movie has Klaatu coming to earth to save the planet from humans who are destroying the environment.

Both movies are loosely based on a short story titled Farewell to the Master, by Harry Bates. I won't tell you much about that story, other than to say that the robot's name is Gnut (instead of Gort), and it offers a major twist in its last six words. If you can find the story in an anthology anywhere, I recommend you read it. Unfortunately, neither movie makes use of the final plot twist of the short story.

While I'm sitting here at home, I'm also catching up on some reading that's been piling up. One of my co-workers loaned me a collection of short stories by Arthur C. Clarke a while back so that I could read a particular story he thought I'd like. The story is titled The Star; it received a Hugo award in 1956 and was turned in to a TV play for Christmas in 1985. You can read it online here. This is another amazing story with a marvelous twist at the end...I recommend you take a few minutes and read it.

That's all for now. Gotta run to the bathroom. Maybe I'll post more later.

Have a good day. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo

Better Late Than Never, and Catching Bad Guys

I'm posting a few hours later than usual this morning because of an early gift I received from my Very Best Beloved...she spent the last few days down for maintenance with a ghastly stomach virus which she has, in her usual loving and thoughtful way, decided to share with me. Between about 3:00 PM and 9:00 PM yesterday, I was racing to the bathroom about every 10 minutes while everything I've eaten in the last two weeks revisited me at one end or the other. I then slept from 9:00 until 6:30 this morning (unheard of for me), called the office to tell them I was out of commission, then went back to bed until 11:00.

So...

I still feel like s**t, but I'm well-rested.

But you didn't come here to listen to me talk about my gastrointestinal difficulties, so we'll drop that pleasant topic and discuss something more uplifting.

Like forensic pathology.

I'm old enough to remember when TV's law-enforcement heroes were flawed, hard-bitten tough guys like Mike Connors (Mannix), Tom Selleck (Magnum P.I.), and Jack Webb (Joe Friday); accompanied by their radio counterparts like Philip Marlowe, Johnny Dollar the insurance investigator, Boston Blackie, Nero Wolfe, and Sam Spade. They got to the truth by drinking lots of scotch, chasing bad guys and beating the tar out of them in the end, and interacting with mysterious and exotic women..

It's different, now.

Now, the airwaves are ruled by the forensic pathologists like Quincy, Temperence Brennan ("Bones"), CSI (New York, Miami, Las Vegas, etc), Cold Case, and so on. Villains are caught not by lantern-jawed detectives battling crime in dark alleyways and dim, smoky bars, but by geeky scientists in lab coats who find the ultimate clue to be a microscopic bit of something-or-other amidst the gooey remains of a victim.

I liked it better before. I like seeing the bad guy get his come-uppance at the hands of the hero, lying gasping on the floor right after the hero has beaten him to a pulp and before he's dragged off to a richly-deserved jail sentence. It's so much more satisfying than watching some character in a pristine laboratory cinch the villain's fate with a minute speck of gotcha. The real people like it better, too. My good friend Bakr, who is a forensic pathologist, has complained about how difficult the TV shows have made his work, because TV-besotted juries now don't understand why the answers aren't presented to them on a silver platter of scientific jargon.

I still enjoy watching all the shows, new and old, but something's missing.

And now it's time to go back to bed.

Have a good day. More (and more coherent) thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

"These Dreams Go On When I Close My Eyes" - Heart

Using song lyrics as the title of posts seems to be catching on ... it works for lacochran and Fiona, anyhow, so I figured I might as well try it to introduce this frightening topic: according to this article from Agence France Presse, some Japanese researchers claim to have created a technology that could eventually display people's thoughts and dreams on a computer screen.

This is probably not a good thing.

You may recall a 1983 film called Brainstorm, in which scientists developed just such a device for recording a person's experiences. One of the most interesting scenes in the movie was when one of the scientists took a tape that had been made while a couple was having sex, made a loop out of the ... um ... climactic moment, then hooked himself up to the playback machine and turned himself into a twitching, drooling idiot as he experienced the orgasm over and over and over.

I, too, have been known to be turned into a twitching, drooling idiot by sex; nevertheless, Agnes still keeps me around because I can fix computer problems, chop onions and garlic, and recover items from high shelves.

But I digress.

Would I want to be able to record my thoughts and memories so that they could be played back like the VHS of a B movie? I don't think so. Although I spend most of my time thinking lofty thoughts that would, if properly focused and not diluted by my procrastination, eventually yield me a Nobel Prize or some other such honor, I have also been known to think less charitable thoughts...like ruminating on the questionable ancestry of some of the morons I meet, or the utter ineptitude of our political classes, or even boobies (thanks to Rima, Mike, and Fiona). Would I want someone many years hence to be able to browse dusty shelves of tapes and be able to play back the twisted thoughts that might have been recorded when my guard was down? I don't think so.

Of course, the device works by recording brain activity, and there are those who would argue that my brain isn't actually active long enough at a time to create a useful baseline, so perhaps I'm safe after all.

But why take the chance that someone might turn it on while I'm thinking about rubbing suntan lotion onto a Playboy Playmate of the Month instead of while I'm thinking about ways to rescue the economy?

I have a legacy to protect, of course, meager though it may be.

I think I'll stay away from Japanese research labs for a while.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

P.S. - I was distracted while writing this by the gorgeous sunrise outside my study window. This picture doesn't really do it justice, but it's the best I could do while half awake...

Cartoon Saturday

A bomb has killed a police officer at a bank in Oregon, everybody in Illinois except Governor Blagojevich thinks he should resign, Bettie Page has passed away, your tax money may soon be used to save the auto industry from its own ineptitude, and there's an acorn shortage in much of the country.

Good thing you have Cartoon Saturday to pick up your spirits.

I have to be careful which television shows Agnes is watching...

There's a great song by Erin McKeown called "Blackbirds" (from her album Distillation) that I could listen to a dozen times a day. This cartoon brought it to mind, although Ms McKeown's style isn't doo-wop...

The more I read about the crooked antics of Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, the more I admire useful words like hubris...

The comic strip "Rhymes with Orange" is one of those that's either hysterically funny or goes right over my head. This cartoon from early this week is one that really hits the sweet spot where literary allusion, intellectual heft, and downright silliness intersect...

You all know I love to read, and that I think there's nothing quite like the feel and smell of a good book you can curl up with in front of a fire on a cold and snowy night. Of course, you can take the fun out of almost anything with enough technology...

Well, it's time to take a shower and get ready for a day of entertaining my hyperactive granddaughter so that my daughter can get some work done. There's nothing quite like an adorable 15-month old to make me feel every one of my 57 accumulated years...but the squeals of delight, the hugs and the wet, sloppy kisses, and the plop as she drops into my lap with a book that will hold her interest for three nanoseconds make it all worthwhile.

It's good to be the grandpa.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Crime and Punishment, Effective Advertising, and Huge Crowds

In yesterday's post, I referred you to a news story about the use of very loud music as an interrogation tactic - after a few hours of listening to Barney, Sesame Street, or Nine Inch Nails, even the most hardened terrorists were ready to cooperate with their questioners. In that post, I misremembered (is that a word?) a related story about teens being punished for playing their music too loudly by being made to listen to Barry Manilow. The actual story can be found here. It seems the offender was offered the choice of paying a $150 fine or spending 20 hours listening to classical music...he was only able to survive 15 minutes of Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin before giving in and paying the fine. What a dumbass.

And from the intersecting worlds of Why Didn't I Think of That and Hey, Buddy, My Eyes Are Up Here comes this interesting story of a lady named Kelly Kinney who printed her resume on the front of a t-shirt and spends her days hanging around upscale coffee shops and major intersections, hoping to be noticed (according to the article, Ms Kinney said she chooses coffee bars and intersections because they offer captive audiences where prospective employers are stuck waiting for lattes or for lights to change). Yes, the story's dateline is Los Angeles...where else could it have been?

Closer to home, here in the so-called National Capitol Region, local governments are trying to gear up for crowds estimated in the millions for the historic inauguration of President-elect Obama on January 20th. Some of the problems the planners are facing include:

- Where do you park 10,000 (yes, that's ten thousand) tour buses?

- Where do all those out-of-town people stay? (enterprising people as far away as Gettysburg and Richmond are renting spare bedrooms for hundreds of dollars per night).

- Where do you find enough porta-potties to accommodate 5 million people?

- How do you move crowds this size on a subway system that is notorious for choking on its normal daily ridership, much less heavy tourist days, much less 5 million people? Those of you who want to attend the festivities and live within walking distance (now defined as suburban Cincinnati) of the National Mall should start walking now.

- What...and where...do they all eat?

And...

- Who cleans up all the debris when everything's over? Actually, this last one is probably not a problem, because the incoming administration will already be so busy cleaning up the wreckage of the current one that a few hundred more tons of reeking caca won't make much difference.

I'm sure glad somebody else has to worry about all that. Me, I have enough to worry about, like not drowing in the rain as I hike to the bus stop this morning, and making sure the bus actually stops to pick me up (unlike the other day). By the way, Twinkie, your mental image of Bilbo as homicidal Mary Poppins was not all that far off the mark.

But now it's time to get ready to face another day. At least tonight I can go dancing...the opportunity to hold lots of different ladies close (Agnes first, of course) and move to the music is always a good way to end a tough week.

Eat your heart out, guys.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up...

One of humorist Dave Barry's signature lines before he reported on something true but silly was, "I'm not making this up!" Well, I'm not either. Today, presented for your approval (I'm channeling Rod Serling this morning), three really bizarre recent news stories that I managed to find before Mike scooped me...

Number 1: Ooga Ooga! Men Overspend to Attract Mates. From LiveScience.com comes this searing blast of the obvious - that men will spend themselves into poverty to attract desirable sexual partners. Oddly enough, this article led to a lengthy scholarly discussion in the office yesterday during a break from our usual routine of defending the nation from godless communists and over-godded religious fanatics. One of my coworkers claimed that men marry for sex, while women marry for security...seen this way, men who vaporize the magnetic strips on the back of their credit cards to impress cute girls are simply fulfilling the biological imperative to prove they are good providers. This is important, as it's pretty hard nowadays to show up at a girl's door with a gutted, bleeding aurochs slung over your shoulder.

Number 2: Military Interrogators Use Blasting Music as a Weapon to Break Detainees. The most interesting thing about this story isn't that playing Nine Inch Nails at top volume makes hard-core fanatics crazier than they were before...it's that the playlist also includes Barney the Dinosaur's "I Love You" song and several hits from Sesame Street. This is, of course, not news to parents who have been driven around the bend by their toddlers who want to hear those songs seven billion times a day. I also recall a recent news article about a judge who sentenced some teens guilty of blasting their rock music at top volume in public to sit in a room and listen to hours of Barry Manilow tunes. I'd confess, too.

Number 3: (Alert - temporary interjection of seriousness into an otherwise frivolous post) Pope Pius XII Unfairly Criticized for Not Speaking Out About the Holocaust. In this article reproduced on the Project Syndicate website, Rocco Buttiglione (Italy's former European Affairs minister) maintains that Pius XII could not have condemned Nazi Germany without appearing to give moral comfort to Josef Stalin's less-than-saintly Russian government, and couldn't condemn Stalin without giving a propaganda gift to Hitler's war effort. Therefore, he didn't condemn either one. Where I come from, this is called horses**t (a topic with which, along with boobies, fellow blogger Fiona is passingly familiar). When the Supreme Pontiff of the Catholic Church can't bring himself to speak out against unspeakable evil, regardless of who is at fault, something's wrong.

Okay, that's enough for now. Time to get ready to out and face this odd world of ours yet again. Hopefully today will start off differently from yesterday, when my bus drove right past me as I jumped up and down and yelled like a wild man. This morning, it's raining...and if that bus passes me up again, I'll just jam the point of my umbrella into the nearest tire.

So there.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo