SNOWSTORM!!! I Mean, snowstorm!

I'm channeling the title of a fifties-era science fiction film ... The Amazing Colossal Disappearing Snowstorm!

Yes, Dear Readers, our mighty snowstorm that started out with apocalyptic predictions (for Disneyland-on-the-Potomac) of four to five inches of the terrifying white stuff ... which then diminished to one to two inches ... then to an inch, mostly on cars and grassy areas ... to ... well, according to the old Pittsburgh tradition, it counts as "snow" if you can track a cat in it. Which you can. On the grass. Assuming you have any interest in finding a cat.

Oh, and the temperature today will be over 50 (that's 10 degrees Celsius for you, Jean-Luc, Craziequeen, and Amanda).

Now, I'm not sad that we've dodged the crystalline bullet, as we already have enough experience of major snowstorms for which our local governments are woefully unprepared and in the face of which local drivers grow unaccountably hysterical. But for pete's sake, if we're going to have a winter, let's get on with it!

At least we won't have the experience of Agnes's last trip to Germany, when she was scheduled to fly during our last Snowmageddon. You may recall that at that time, her flight to Germany was cancelled two days in a row ... then it flew as scheduled on the third day, but we were snowed into our neighborhood and couldn't get to the airport. She ended up leaving a week later.

The Old Farmer's Almanac (online edition) had predicted a major storm with heavy, wet snow along the East Coast for this time, so I guess they called it partly right. We dodged this storm, which tracked more to the south, but the next one the Almanac is calling for is supposed to hit on or about March 7^th ... which is the date Agnes returns from Germany.

Oy.

So, let's all do the No-Snow Dance so that we can avoid this ...

... at least until Agnes gets back.

Have a good day. Stay warm. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Guest Post

Hey, everybody! Nessa here once again. How's everyone this morning? I'm feeling comfortable and well-rested, thanks for asking...

But yesterday was a bit grueling, though. Let me tell you about it.

Bilbo and Agnes went out early in the morning to watch their granddaughters' swimming lesson, and they left me here to guard the house from burglars, itinerant political hacks, squirrels, deer, and other dogs. It's a job I can do very well, especially since I can do it from the sofa under the window or - as you can see in this picture - from my nice cushion in the upstairs hallway, right between the doorway to the kitchen and the steps down to the front door (from here, I have a great view out the transom window, so no evil mailmen or delivery people can get past my watchful gaze).

Oh, and speaking of my nice cushion ... why don't they make these things bigger?

But I was talking about yesterday, wasn't I?

Anyhow, after Bilbo and Agnes came home, they felt guilty (I helped!) because they'd left me alone for a while, so they decided to take me for a nice long walk up to the local shopping center. They do this fairly often, actually ... we walk up to the shopping center, and then Bilbo waits with me on the sidewalk in front of the Giant (that's a store that sells dog food and lunch meat and treats, and some other stuff that people need) while Agnes goes in to buy whatever they need. This is a pretty good deal, since I get to rest up for the second leg of the walk AND have people fuss over me while I sit there with Bilbo.

Bilbo says I'm a babe magnet, which is true. Women love me. They'll cross the street to come up and ask Bilbo, "Can I pet your dog?", which he almost always allows. And then the women always comment on how cute and well-behaved I am and all that. Which is all true, of course.

This is a bit frustrating for Bilbo, though. He told Agnes yesterday that it doesn't make much sense to have a dog that's such a babe magnet now that he doesn't need it any more. I think he wishes all those good-looking women would scratch him under the chin and kiss him and rub his tummy and all that stuff.

Sometimes, it's good to be the dog.

So anyway, Agnes finished buying all the stuff she needed and then she came back and we got ready to walk home. I picked up my stick (I always have to have something to carry, you know ... it's that retriever thing) and Bilbo and Agnes divided up all the bags and we strolled on home. People in passing cars looked at us and smiled, because I think they enjoy seeing a good dog taking her people for a walk.

And I am, of course, a good dog. Don't listen to what that #$@! cat down the street tells you.

Well, it's going to be a quiet day here. Agnes is getting organized for her trip back to Germany, Bilbo is trying (again ... or is it still, I don't know) to clean off his desk and organize his study, and the weatherman says we're going to have something happen this afternoon. I hope it's snow, because it's really annoying when it rains a lot and we come home and Bilbo smells like a wet human.

Have a good day. Bilbo will be back tomorrow.

Woof!

Nessa

Cartoon Saturday

Just when you thought it couldn't get any crazier ...

A 29-year old man from Morocco - an illegal alien, no less - was arrested for planning a suicide bombing of the US Capitol building (evidently not realizing that Congress has already done a thorough job of reducing it to twisted, smoking wreckage); having nothing better on which to report, news outlets across the country devoted 24/7 coverage to the death and funeral of singer Whitney Houston; in an attempt to regain some shred of profitability, the Postal Service has requested a rise in the first-class mail rate to 50 cents an ounce ... evidently not realizing that no one sends any first-class mail any more; German President Christian Wulff resigned amid a political scandal, confusing observers around the world who had no idea that Germany even had a president; and Congress finally approved a plan to extend the payroll tax cut, as legislators were anxious to move on to other topics on which to conduct shameless election-year political theater.

Just another week in the land of I-Couldn't-Make-This-Stuff-Up.

We begin with our semi-traditional Ghastly Pun of the Week Cartoon ...

Those of us of a certain age sometimes have difficulty with the latest technological innovations, as we see here ...

And here ...

I have an enormous collection of cartoons, and try to keep track of them by sorting them into categories ... one of which is cartoons about symbols. Here are three new additions that just popped up recently ...

And ...

In case you can't read the word bubble in that one, it says, "For some odd reason, I find myself really attracted to you." And, finally ...

I think this one explains a lot about how the political system works ... or not ...

You may recall that last week's Cartoon Saturday featured one of my favorite "Far Side" cartoons that I liked because it was so totally bizarre. This week, I bring back another of my Far Side favorites, along with a related take on the same off-the-wall idea ...

And ...

And we round out this week's Cartoon Saturday collection with a look at the old ... uh ... bait and switch, restaurant division ...

It looks like it's shaping up to be an ... interesting ... weekend here in Disneyland-on-the-Potomac, not least because we're awaiting the arrival of our first "real" winter storm tomorrow which, in true Northern Virginia weather fashion, will roll in and hit us with anywhere from rain to four or five inches of snow. Meteorological prognostication is not really an exact science around here.

For today, we'll spend some time with the local grandchildren, then join a million of our closest friends as they mob the stores in search of the crucial supplies needed to survive a winter storm: beer, bread, toilet paper, and cold cuts.

Not necessarily in that order.

Have a good day. Stay warm and dry.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

What This Country Needs Is a Good, Five-Cent Nickel

We tend to think of the cost of money in terms of the interest rates charged by banks, credit card companies, and loan sharks (often, the same) for its use. But there really is an actual cost of money, as I was reminded the other day when I read this article: Obama Wants Cheaper Pennies and Nickels.

According to the article, in 2011 it cost 2.4 cents to mint a single penny ...

and 11.2 cents to mint a nickel ...

figures which include both the cost of the metal used and the cost of production. This got me to wondering about the cost of printing "paper" money, and a quick internet search yielded figures ranging between six and ten cents to print a dollar bill ...

mostly based on the costs of cotton (yes, your wallet is filled with recycled underwear) and ink. According to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing (BEP), during the year 2011 about 5.8 billion banknotes of all denominations were printed at an average cost of about 9.1 cents.

You can find all sorts of fascinating facts about the money you don't have enough of at this website run by the BEP. Follow the links at the left of the page for even more neat stuff, including a store from which you can buy uncut sheets of bills in various denominations. Think of it: you can buy a small, inexpensive gift for your Very Best Beloved, then wrap it in a sheet of fifty dollar bills!

But let's get back to the cost of the penny and the nickel. If it costs 2.4 cents to mint a penny (of which the US Mint produced about 4.3 billion last year) and 11.2 cents to mint a nickel (of which some 913 million were pressed last year), that means that your government actually lost money by making money.

I can't believe that the Republicans haven't used this as a campaign cudgel with which to beat President Obama, but I'm sure they'll get there soon enough.

And all this is fascinating, but because I need those pennies and nickels and bills of various denominations, I need to go to work to earn them.

Have a good day. My birthday is in November, and you can wrap my gift in one of those sheets of $50 bills if you like.

See you tomorrow for Cartoon Saturday.

Bilbo

Hair-Raising Thoughts

The story of Rapunzel is one of the classic fairy tales: a beautiful young woman is imprisoned in a tower by an evil witch (no, not Michelle Bachmann), and the only way to reach her (since the tower has no door) is to call "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair/that I may climb the golden stair!" Rapunzel backs up to the window and lowers her tremendously long hair, which the standard handsome prince is able to climb.

The rest of the story depends upon whether you are reading the adult or the children's version, if you get my drift.

I hadn't thought about the story of Rapunzel for a long time (other than in the context of the wonderful animated film Tangled) until I saw this online article the other day: Rapunzel Number Helps Scientists Quantify Ponytails.

It seems that there is a particular number - the Rapunzel Number - which provides a key ratio needed to calculate the effect of gravity on hair relative to its length, determining whether the ponytail looks like a fan ...

or whether it arcs over and becomes nearly vertical at the bottom ...

This is a generally a matter of interest only to a limited audience. According to the article, scientists say the Rapunzel number and related studies of hair "(have) implications for understanding the structure of materials made up of random fibres, such as wool and fur and will have resonance with the computer graphics and animation industry, where the representation of hair has been a challenging problem."

Hmmm ... and here I thought long hair was just an attractive feature of some ladies.

It can be dangerous, too. Until you've danced a fast swing with a lady with a long pony tail or braid and had that hair smack you in the face at high speed as the lady spins, you don't know just how dangerous.

But not all ladies choose to wear their hair long. And for those who choose to wear it short, there are a few "fightin' words" we observers should avoid. According to this article, here are seven things you should never, ever say to a woman with short hair (with my helpful translation of what the lady hears when you make the mistake of saying them):

1. "May I help you, sir?" What the lady hears: "I'm an inobservant twit."

2. "It totally reminds me of Sandy Duncan in Peter Pan." What the lady hears: "You look like a 1970's fairy."

3. "Did you just give up when you had the baby?" What the lady hears: "Please rip my head off and beat me to death with it."

4. "I loved you back when you had long hair." What the lady hears: "I only loved you for your hair."

5. "Don't worry - it'll grow back." What the lady hears: "You spent $150 on that?"

6. "You look so much better with short hair." What the lady hears: "You were ugly before."

7. "Your short hair makes you look thinner." What the lady hears: "You're fat."

Hair, long or short, has been described as a woman's crowning glory. Just tell her she looks beautiful and no one will get hurt.

And I don't think that "Hey, baby, I'll bet you've got a great Rapunzel number!" will ever be a good pick-up line at the club on a Saturday night.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Two Stories About Tracks

Many years ago, shortly after the earth's crust cooled and the dinosaurs died out, I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the US Air Force. Now, for those of you who may not be familiar with military ranks and customs, I will just tell you that no one gets any less respect than a Second Lieutenant. You're expected to be young and stupid, to keep your mouth shut and learn to be - as crusty old Sergeant Bowmar, who was responsible for me, once said - a real officer. Two long years went by and I was promoted to First Lieutenant ... and crusty old Sergeant Bowmar told me that I was almost there - when I finally made Captain and got my "tracks" (the slang for a captain's insignia) ...

... I'd be a real officer. Fast-forward two more years, and Captain Bilbo strode proudly into the office, whereupon old Sergeant Bowmar closely examined the new insignia glittering on my collar and grunted, "Humph! Narrow gauge!"

And, speaking of tracks, here is a little bit of history that I'd heard before, but of which I was reminded by my old co-worker Dave in a blog fodder e-mail he sent me yesterday ...

The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. This is a bit of an odd measurement ... why was that particular gauge used? Because that's the way railroads were built in England, and English expatriates designed the US railroads.

Why did the English build them like that? Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did they use that gauge then? Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools they had used for building wagons, which used a wheel spacing of 4 feet, 8.5 inches.

So, why did the wagons have that odd wheel spacing? Because if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels and axles would risk breaking on some of the old, long distance roads in England, on which the wheel ruts were 4 feet, 8.5 inches apart.

So, who built those old rutted roads?

Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (including England) so that they could move their legions quickly from place to place. Those roads were so expertly designed and laid out that they have been used ever since.

And the ruts in the roads? The original ruts were formed by the wheels of Roman war chariots, which were designed to imperial military specifications. Because a Roman war chariot was drawn by two war horses, the roads were built to accommodate the passage of a war chariot drawn by two horses.

Yes, Dear Readers, the Roman military roads - on which the gauge of today's railroads were ultimately based - were laid out to accommodate the original design specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot ... which, in turn, were based on the size of horses' asses.

Bureaucracies live forever.

So, the next time you are handed a specification/procedure/process and wonder, 'What horse's ass came up with this?' you may be exactly right ... because Imperial Roman army chariots, and their supporting roads, were made just wide enough to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses.

Now, the twist to the story:

When you saw a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, you probably noticed that a huge booster rocket was attached to each side of the main fuel tank. These were the solid rocket boosters, or SRBs, manufactured by the Thiokol Corporation at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit larger, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory ran through tunnels, and the SRBs had to fit through those tunnels. The tunnels were slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.

So ...

A major design feature of the world's most advanced transportation system was determined
over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass.

And you thought being a horse's ass wasn't important?

Little did you know!

And that's today's little bit of history for you, courtesy of your ol' Uncle Bilbo.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Valentine's Day, 2012

Today is February 14th - Valentine's Day - the most obvious symbol of the worldwide, anti-male conspiracy launched by a sinister cabal of florists, restauranteurs, jewelers, candy-makers, and greeting card printers to force men everywhere to spend money to stay on the right side of their ladies.

If you're a man, you know what I mean. If you're a woman, this will go over your head because Valentine's Day is just part of the tribute you have been trained from birth to expect from your drooling love slave. Or your husband, whatever.

You can read what I wrote in this space about Valentine's Day last year here. But another year has gone by, and it's time to take another critical look at the sinister phenomenon of Valentine's Day.

This is how life goes if you're a man ...

Sometimes, it's more like this ...

Now, I'd be willing to admit that, sometimes, we men aren't all that good at planning the lovey-dovey, spur-of-the-moment things our women say they like ...

It's often hard for us to say the right thing ... and we don't always get the response we were hoping for ...

And we all know that women are very, very good at stockpiling grievances ...

Even pets are not immune to the evil lure of Valentine's Day ...

Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that we know we're being set up, we men lurch forward blindly each year into Valentine's Day. We know what's expected of us, and we perform our steps in this annual kabuki dance in the way we've been conditioned. Our ladies play us like fine violins, drawing the bow of female expectation expertly over the strings of male guilt and sexual desire. Yes, we all play our parts, because we've been conditioned to do so. And because we hope that, for once, we'll manage to do the right thing and get our reward.

Good luck.

And with that, we close out another Valentine's Day post with this classic video from Joan Jett ...

Have a good day. I hope all goes well between you and the object of your fondest desire. Or your wife or husband. You decide.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

The Ass Clown of the Month Award Returns!

It's been a long time since we designated an Ass Clown of the Month dishonoree here at Bilbo's Place. It's not for want of candidates (the Republican primaries are going on, after all, and there are plenty of useless Democrats out there, too), but - as ever - it's just been too hard to pick.

But I have made a selection!

We generally make an award to an individual, although there is a precedent for group awards (to the Westboro Baptist Church), but today we give the award not to an individual or a group, but to an entire country! Ladies and gentlemen, with an appropriate drum roll we award the coveted Ass Clown of the Month award to

Greece

Yes, Dear Readers, the spectacle of lunatics rioting in the streets of Athens because they don't want to give up a lifestyle they expect the rest of the world to subsidize has cemented Greece's worthiness for this award. You've had a great life you couldn't afford. Don't burn the place down because you expect the rest of us to pay for it.

Of course, the only real difference between Greeks and Americans at this point is that Americans don't want to make any sacrifices either ... we just aren't rioting yet. But don't worry, I'm sure the Republicans and the Democrats will work together to ensure we'll get there.

Have a good day. Be here tomorrow for our Valentine's Day special.

More thoughts then.

Bilbo

The Ones Who'll Help You Move the Body

I wrote this past Monday about Agnes's ongoing project for her digital scrapbooking and journaling course in which she had to develop a two-page spread about herself based on the supposed characteristics of her Zodiac sign. Well, the drama continued yesterday evening as she called me into her nest to look at an online, two-page list of adjectives that could be used an individual, and asked me to pick out the ones that applied to her.

Not being stupid, I (to paraphrase the great W. C. Fields) rejected those words that might, if misunderstood, end up eliciting the attention of the coroner, and offered a careful selection which included the word friendly.

This led to a discussion of the concept of friendship which - to Agnes - is a word not to be taken lightly. And, on reflection, I have to agree that she's right.

There's an old saying that an acquaintance will help you move, but a friend will help you move a body. This is a crude, yet accurate statement of a difference we don't often think about much in the Facebook era, where we collect "friends" as if they were Hummel figurines, beer cans, or decorative paperweights. You may recall this cartoon from two weeks ago on Cartoon Saturday ...

It makes a statement that Agnes reminded me of as we talked about the implications of the word friend. If she were introducing someone from her office to me, for instance, she'd use the term co-worker, where I might have loosely described the individual as a friend from the office. The difference is ... or, at least, should be ... profound.

If I think of a friend as someone I can share my innermost thoughts and secrets with, someone I can turn to for help at any time and know that he'll drop everything to come to my aid, someone I'm completely comfortable with in any setting, I can only think of one person out of the many hundreds I might loosely describe as friends. I have 119 friends on Facebook (the average number is actually 120, according to the Facebook blog), but I would probably describe only one of them as a true friend according to the definition earlier in this paragraph (yes, he's the one friend I mentioned above).

There are a great many people I consider friends in a looser fashion ... people I care about and whose company I enjoy. Most of my dancing acquaintances and many of my co-workers fall into this category. But real, honest-to-goodness, help-me-hide-the-body friends ... just one.

The concept of true friendship was summed up in one of my favorite poems - The Thousandth Man, by Rudyard Kipling ...

One man in a thousand, Solomon says.
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.

But if he finds you and you find him,
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight
With that for your only reason!

Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot - and after!

Just so that I'm not misunderstood, let me emphasize that I care about all my friends, of whatever degree. But there's only one ... and I think you know who you are ... that I would ask to help me hide a body.

And the thought that I have even one friend that close is a very comforting thought.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Cartoon Saturday

On with the dance - let the ass-clownery be unconfined! Well, Lord Byron didn't put it exactly that way, but if he were alive today, he would probably would have.

Conservatives and the Roman Catholic church have hysterically excoriated the Administration over a birth control requirement that actually became law during the George W. Bush administration; presidential wannabe Rick Santorum stands by his statement that women are too emotional to serve in combat during wartime ... having obviously never faced an irate woman; 11 persons are dead and more than 30 missing following the sinking of a boat overloaded with Somali refugees; Europe continues to freeze under layers of snow, ice, and frigid arctic air; and Syria continues its brutal crackdown on its rebellious population, buoyed by the tacit support of Russia and China - both concerned about the possibility of future limits on their own ability to crack down on their own populations.

Cartoon Saturday ... your first line of mental defense against a world awash in ass-clownery.

One of my all-time favorite "Far Side" cartoons is this one, because it's just so bizarre ...

I thought it was pretty unique until I ran across this one ...

Two cartoons about the vital role played by accountants in the economy ...

And ...

If you thought riding the mechanical bull at your local cowboy bar was tough ...

This is also one of the potential problems of a wholesale move to digital reading ...

In retrospect, this one is such an obvious joke I'm surprised I haven't seen it riffed on in the cartoons before now ...

Don't you just love born-again conservatives and libertarians who just know that they have the answer to everything ... ?

We wrap things up today with two riffs on a basic idea, cleverly executed ...

And ...

It looks as if it's going to be a yucky weekend weatherwise here in Disneyland-on-the-Potomac, with plummeting temperatures turning this morning's rain into sleet and snow by this afternoon ... good thing I've got a nice stack of library books and a full tank of propane hooked up to the fireplace. If you don't want to go out into the crummy weather, why not cruise on over to Amanda's blog and welcome her back after her long digital hiatus ... or over to Mike's, to learn about how your desk job is destroying your body. Of course, if you're just interested in bodies not yet destroyed, you could go here.

Don't thank me ... it's all part of the service.

Have a good day. Stay warm. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo