Once more unto the breach

This morning was punctuated by the gentle song of my pre-teen heiresses screaming at one another about the fate of a sock - its landing place after being thrown, I assume - and I thought about how good life is when such are the things to argue about at full throat. Before I've had my coffee. I withheld my observation that I could threaten each child with a beating to within an inch of their lives, and proffered a cudgel to prove my intent, and the rest of the morning went smoothly.

I only wrote that last sentence so I could use the word "cudgel." No beatings were actually suggested.

Which means the terrorists have won.

Oh, what a wonderful world it is, now that we're tied together with instantaneous communications. I wonder how long it would take us, as Americans, to adjust to an eighteenth-century world where news spread as fast as a horse could run or a ship could sail. Britain commanded her global empire at the mercy of the wind and tide - how would that work out today?

Are there even people ready to hold that much responsibility? Imagine governors given a plan and the authority to exercise it - with no emails or phone calls to the home office, as it were, to check to see what to do next. Nope, the decisions need to be made there and then, because the buck has to stop.

Imagine Barney Frank or Nancy Pelosi with such power. I'm sure they think of it all the time. And there are people who scoff at the 2nd Amendment.

With such an olio of thoughts for the morning, I bid you each and all a wonderful day. Do something nice for yourselves, okay?

Get me a IV of 48% single-malt, stat!

Man, this bug has got me, if a bug it indeed is. I'm not a doctor, not even pre-med, so I have no idea why I'm itchy of eye and sore(ish) of throat. I do come in contact with a lot of people these days, and so my body could just be adjusting to being outside of the bubble.

My heartfelt thanks to those who serve, who have served. I get to post blather here because you do what you do. I try to keep you all in mind more than just this one day, too.

There's nothing else, really. MA is still screwed, the fedGov is doing what it can to appear to be totally unaware of the general population of this nation, and I don't even know if there's a game on tonight. I seem to be one of the eleven people worldwide who did not purchase Modern Warfare 2, so I can't even go online to get my ass handed to me by a fourteen year old with incredible twitch reflexes.

I do miss online gaming, to the degree where I played with a scattered clan of duffers who enjoyed the game more than the trash-talk (though Red could throw down better than anyone else I've met). But lacking a "next-gen" system, I'm reduced to doing clever things like reading or writing to keep my idle hours filled.

Not that I'm writing anything of late. Fucking doubles. If it was the 80s again, I'd just do a ton of coke after my shift and then pen something irreverent and call it a day. These days, though... it's all I can do to get safely home and fall into bed for much-needed rest.

Interview(s) seem to have gone well. Please keep your prayers/positive thoughts headed in this direction. Thank you.

I am a zombie

I suspected that if I got work, it wouldn't be long before I discovered I hated it. Turns out that I was close. I don't hate it, but it is wearing me down. The illegitimi are carborunduming me.You see, and I'll be frank here, I'd been envisioning myself working a graphics job, not a restaurant job. And while I'm happy to report that I actually enjoy working the floor and dealing with the guests, my body isn't the supple, lithe construction that most of you have been envisioning. I ache.

Oh, and if your doctor is talking openly that non-Muslims should be beheaded, and that boiling oil should be poured down their throats, please don't be afraid to report them. It's not so much that you'd be hating against Muslims, but rather that you'd be employing common sense.

Does anyone remember common sense?

And why, oh why, is it fine for a Muslim to scream openly about beheading non-Muslims, but not fine for a non-Muslim to mention that such sentiments aren't really all that cool? Yes, First Amendment, I know - but First Amendment right back at you.

I think it was Borepatch who mentioned that the enemy has taken advantage of the weakness in our strength - that those who want to behead us have leveraged our P.C. culture, which used to be funny. The culture, not the beheading. Thanks, liberals. As usual, you've messed everything up, and will expect someone else to clean up the mess.

I'm amazed that I can even type this morning. Coffee is useless against the brain rot. Yet I persevere. Oh, and I had a nice, 45-minute phone interview yesterday regarding a wished-for graphics job. If either of you who read this are into hoping/wishing/praying/sending positive vibes, I'd really appreciate you sending some my way. The job seems right up my alley, and it would definitely remove some body ache.

Weekend Women

Aibu Saki
About a year ago someone told me I had to watch this Japanese Drama called Zettai Kareshi. I have those kinds of friends, you see. The show was pretty good, considering it was about a woman's relationship with a robot boyfriend - that sort of thing happens a lot in technologically advanced Japan, I guess - but it was the charming Ms. Saki who got my attention. I have no need for robot boyfriends.

Pensive. Or chilly, either way.

Tell me what you're thinking...

Oh, a napkin won't be necessary.

I wish I had more information about this Weekend Woman, but sometimes you just have to live with less. I wish she had a sword in one of these pix, though.

On Fort Hood

As a member of the middle of the curve, I'm here to report that most of what I've heard about the Fort Hood shooting via the MSM is... curious. The guy has a non-traditional name, which is fine, but it does lead to some interesting questions. One in particular. And I haven't heard that question addressed.

Is the guy a practicing Muslim?

Oh, I know what you're thinking. Scotaku, you RACIST bastard. But really - in this day and age, isn't it germane to the whole narrative? If the fellow was Sven Nordborgsen, then we'd be talking about his mindset, his terror about heading off to a combat theater, his upbringing. But when the guy's name is Nidal Malik Hasan, then I'm sorry but there's a whole other flavor to the story.

As a member of the middle of the curve I don't give a shit about your religious beliefs, as long as you don't proselytize here in scenic Cornerlot. But I do care about knowing as much as I can about what happened in Fort Hood, so please, Mainstream Media, please just report the facts and allow me to divine more. Or even clearly separate your reporting from your commentary, and thus allow me to synthesize the two.

I am sorry that this had to happen. I grieve for the families of those killed and wounded. I ache to see the day when people of any name can just live together here in America, as Americans. And while I'm at it, I'd like to be able to turn to a news source, as it were, and be able to feel as though I was getting more, better reportage.

Allahpundit over at Hot Air has been updating things here. It may not be the acme of reporting, but it is interesting. Still short of my ideal, but a good start.

My new best friend

I see all these commercials that are aimed at "old people," and dammit but now it turns out that my definition of old is a little too narrow. These doubles have worn me down, ground away all the excess things that had been keeping me comfortable and pain-free.

Oh, but how the aches encompass me. Nothing that's even slowing me down, but more of a new way to inventory my anatomy. I used to have good knees - now I need roughly forty thousand mgs of ibuprofen to bring the pain down to a tolerable level. My left foot? One firey ache centered on the joint of the big toe. Arthritis, how I will come to know thee.

So I'm looking into pain-killing systems that will allow me to continue to function. Therefore I have restricted my media intake to channels aimed at people who remember the Hoover Administration. There are inserts, gels, rubs, liniments, ointments, unguents, doses, foams, pads and powders, all designed to bring me comfort.

Oh, yes, powders. Thanks to some differences between me now and me a long time ago is that all the walking around the restaurant during the course of a double literally chaps my ass. I was surprised by this condition, truly - I stopped moving and I thought that someone had dumped a lit cigarette into my crack. Which is why I now swear by GOLD BOND MEDICATED POWDER. I don't know what they put in there, I don't want to know. All I need to know is that I apply it and the next thing I know my ass doesn't hurt anymore.

I love this stuff.

Sure, it makes me smell like someone's grandfather, but I'm headed that way anyhow. Might as well get me some Foot-Joys, too, and enjoy the trip.

As busy as I gotta be

A major chunk of my persona wants to rail about how unfair life is. I don't think this sets me apart from most of the population, especially those who are eight years old or less. But here I am thinking "woe is me" when the reality is that I really don't have it all that bad. So that major chunk, or "Major Chunk" as he will now be known, is going to have to sit down and shut up.

This bit of inanity comes about because it's Day Three of NaNoWriMo and here I am already well behind the projected word count. I do not like this feeling, not with eggs, not with ham. Sunday was a great day, the opening salvo of this hectic race to 50,000 words. Yesterday, though, was much more realistic in its texture, and I managed a paltry 800 or so words, all while in the middle of an excruciating double at the restaurant. I have a small notebook that fits nicely in my apron, and there were rather a few breaks in the action, so pen to paper and all that.

Today is another double. I am not hopeful of getting even a thousand words today. It irks me.

But I will try. Even if I get 50 words, that's a win because that means I kept at it. It rather mirrors, to my mind's eye, my restauranting endeavors. I'm doing what I can to help reach a larger goal. Fractals, man, it's all fractals.

And I'm losing focus now because the Flood (my new name for these pesky heiresses) are doing what they can to be late again today. I need to resume my shepherding.

More Later.