showing restraint

I won't be blogging much today...returning to my home-work duties.

today I'm applying a linoleum tile floor underneath where this computer rests.

But first I get to play with Acid to clean the floor.

I hope when its all said and done, I won't have to change my web address to www.stumpymcanally.com


and by the way, one of those things that get me to shreik like a teenage girl is when I run my hand unknowingly through an icky spiderweb.

for the millionth time....

you will not find photos of Julia Robets in a compromising position just because the email says so....

in fact, this time, what you will find is a nasty little program that will infect everyone in your addy book, letting them know what a perv you are....and if you're real lucky, you might watch it eat your files, too!

So, don't be stupid.

Job posting

ACME products, the industry leader in practical home/office/desert/outerspace products, is hiring a New Product Development Manager. Candidate will have proven track record with catching road runners, smarmy rabbits, adrenalized Mexican rodents, and saccharine-sweet canaries with speech impediments. Benefits include stock options and unlimited use of company products (see catalog here). Interested candidates should submit resumes at company website to one Mr. Wile E. Coyote, Director of Product Testing.

my favorite product is the ultimatum giver, and is just one of many that I wish really existed. how 'bout you? (oh, and Jamie at Gleeful Extremist against deserves credit for pointing me to the link).

were we right?

of course we were! here's a photo essay to affirm it (thanks to Gleeful Extremist -- check my blogroll -- for the link).

commuting redux

only took 23 minutes to get here today.... I don't think I can do any better than that...why do I think that only males will appreciate my obsession with this issue?

today i learned what a dog looks like on a highway after it has been run over about 18378 times. Still recognizable, but no longer able to promptly fetch.

At exit 12 traffic stopped for a spell. Getting lost in that continuum that exists only when a developmentally important song from one's adolescence gets air time, I snapped back to present reality to notice the shock and awe of my momentarily neighboring commuter as she observed me full-on imitating Billy Idol singing Rebel Yell, complete with snarled lip and raised, clenched, pumping fist.

Yeah...there's no way out of that embarrasment.

I just smiled and reached for my cofee, like I was having a caffiene deprivation-induced seizure. She shook her head like she was watching one of those "Feed the Children" commercials and drove away.

Her departure coincided with Billy's, which gave way to one the deepest thoughts I've heard in recent memory, spoken melodically by the great western philosopher Stevie "please don't call me Steven" Nicks:

just like the white winged dove
sings a song
sounds like shes singin'
hoo baby hoo baby hoo

why do you do the voodoo that you do?

a great illustration on the high reward/no compensation world of blogging, by the Pictionary masters Cox & Forkum.

in memorium

my high school principal, Mr. Joe Janosec, died Tuesday, from cancer.

he leaves behind a wife, a son, and three daughters.

after leaving the teaching field, he became a popular county commissioner, and was also a successful rancher.

More than all that, he was just a good guy who liked people.

My favorite memory of him was when I was sent to his office as a sophmore for pulling a practical joke in my biology class that got me in a bit of hot water. Before the "tardy bell" rang, I took the attendance sheet and marked everyone but myself either tardy or absent. I thought my teacher would appreciate the obvious hilarity of my actions (though 15 years later, I can't quite understand it myself). Surprisingly, he didn't. Demanding to know who was responsible, I 'fessed up, because I determined it was onlya matter of time before they sleuthed out the culprit by deducing I was the only person actually present and accounted for who was neither tardy nor absent. So Mr. Peer, the biology teacher, sent me to Mr. Janosec's office.

Joe, as he allowed me to call him (though I don't think I ever did to his face), greeted me warmly as I approached his door and said, "N-n-now Bryan, what are you doing here?" You see, Mr. Janosec stuttered a bit. And it was one of the few circumstances where I knew his stutter was often imitated but never ridiculed. Mimicking his stutter was a manifestation of affection, because it was the type of stutter that didn't sound so much like a true stutter, but more like he's was just getting warmed up to have a friendly conversation. It was "folksy," and we all voiced it when retelling conversations about him, as though it lended credibility to our account.

Anyway, I told him, "well, I got in trouble in biology." He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "W-w-why don't you come into my office, and let's have a cup of coffee."

wow. "Okay...."

I'll never forget feeling like I was actually an adult. He asked me to tell him what I did, but not in a stern, critical, condescending "tell me what happened" sort of way. I told him. He laughed. "W-w-w-well, it managed to get you out of a class lecture, so it wasn't all bad," he said. "You g-g-g-go back to class when we're done here, and tell Mr. Peer that you're sorry and won't do it again. Alright?"

wow "Yessir."

We sat together for another ten minutes talking about whether or not our basketball team was going to beat Steamboat Springs (our big rival), about liking Kelli Cotter, since he saw me in the office everyday talking with her (she was an office aide during my lunch hour, and I visited her every day until she sooooo tactfully told me, "you know, you don't have to come up here every day.") when the coffee cup was empty, he said, "Y-y-you probably ought to get back to class before Peer thinks you stole his beaver (he had a big tanned beaver pelt that served as his hall pass)."

And I returned to Biology I a vindicated, redeemed young man, masking my pleasure with facade of contrition. I apologized to Peer and vowed never to do it again.

I'm not sure I kept that promise....

anyway...

Joe Janosec always had a smile on his face, even when greased pigs released by seniors ran squealing down the hallways (not guilty!). He always remembered your name, and he always made time for you.

he was a blessing to my young, developing life, and he'll be missed.

sotia #42

sometimes, the signs of the apocalypse come in virtual form. flooding your inbox multiple times a day. every day. until the world as we know it ceases to exist.

i won't be sad to leave Earthlink later this week, who despite claiming to filter SPAM, manages to allow 10-20 junk emails into my inbox each and everyday, mostly offering me magical, mystical pills that will miraculously perform the feat of enhancing my masculinity, boosting my confidence, and icreasing the size of something or other...my ego, I think.

Usually, these particular SPAMS are easy enough to identify because they have something like "Hey Stud," or "Miracal Cure" in the subject line and are sent by some burly, overweight, hairy and lonely millionaire spamchelor named Carl with a screen name like "Cindy Ann" or "Buttercup." However, the latest of these unwelcome virtual cockroaches infesting my inbox was sent to me by someone named Paul and simply had the word "idiot" in the subject line. I first assumed it was a liberal replying with brainless rant to one of my journal entries. But it was the same ol' garbage.

Ah, Paul....you had me at 'idiot.'

communing while commuting

here are actual thoughts I had while driving to the office today:

--6:48 a.m. Why can't I get out of the house any earlier, no matter what time I wake up?
--I hope Kelli got good sleep last night
--I think I'll still have to touch up that door with one more coat.
--how come I can never get the garage door to close the first time I push the remote?
--we really need to go meet the neighbors.
--what if we found out Bruce Springsteen really wasn't born in the USA?
--how do you lose a loveseat? will they come back for it?
--I wonder if she's listening to the same station that I am. I think she's singing the same words I am.
--these socks sure feel longer than what I'm used to.
--only took nine minutes to get to exit 14 today...things are movin' smooth.
--how long will it be before I recognize some of these cars on a regular basis?
--does "80's Station" mean a constant loop of 99 Red Balloons, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Crazy For You, Born in the USA, and Word Up?
--how do you lose a dog? will they come back for it?
--took 10 minutes to get to exit 10...good day.
--these DJs are horrible
--coffee has tasted better ever since we've arrived in Georgia.
--its a good thing I can't blog while I think...who knows what would end up out there on the 'net...
--I've got to make sure I get those expense reports done first thing
--at least I'm done with the plan book
--I hope I can start on the magazine today
--26 minute commute...could it always be this good?
--is my zipper zipped?
--where's my ID?
--oops, forgot to lock the car.
--hmm...I wonder if Bruce really is an undercover Canadian just trying to throw us off his trail. < Chander Bing impersonation > I mean really, could that song be any more guilty of overstating a theme? < /Chandler Bing Impersonation >

another stake in the heart of relativity

said better by another:

NARROW-MINDED? ALL BELIEVERS ARE.
by Dr. Joe McKeever
A ministry of the First Baptist Church of Kenner, Louisiana

A lady wrote to the editor of our local paper the other day, upset that someone suggested homosexuality is forbidden in the Bible. “My God,” she wrote, “is a God of love and not a God of judgment.”

Now, the lady is free to worship whomever she pleases, and if she wants to make up her own god who will let her do as she will, well, it’s been done for thousands of years. My only question to her is “Where did you find this God without standards?” Certainly not in the Bible. Open it at any page and you will see this God makes demands on His people. He sets limits on their behavior and holds them responsible.

I suspect the writer created her god from her own imagination. This puts her lord in the same class as a rag on a stick in Botswana, a volcano in the South Pacific, or a statuette in a Singapore flat. God-making has a certain appeal---your creation can look like anything you choose and it approves whatever you want to do.

Not long ago, local citizen Ray Whiting wrote to our editor taking issue with a letter from Gary Hanberry who had claimed, “The Jesus of the Bible is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, and is compatible with no other religion.” Mr. Whiting responded, “It is my belief that the Jesus of the Bible is merely the retelling of the ancient sacred myths of divinity, told and retold through the ages in every language and every culture. The Jesus depicted in the Gospels is an image compiled from the earlier myths, not a real person who walked the earth 2,000 years ago.” He concluded, “I would suggest to Mr. Hanberry that...his version of Christ is both shallow and impotent. If his Christ cannot embrace us all...his Christ is insufficient for the need. On behalf of all Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Wiccans, (and) pagans...I beg him to find a bigger Christ.”

I’d like to ask Mr. Whiting where exactly he located this Christ who embraces all religions without expecting anything from any of them. Certainly not in the Bible.

And, since the Bible is the only book on earth giving information about Christ, how did he manage to find a Christ different from the one presented there?

Anyone doing even a cursory reading of the Gospels sees that the story of Jesus is presented as historical fact. He lived in this place, at this time, with these people. The men and women who knew Jesus and followed Him told others who passed the word on to others who told their friends. The process has continued right down to the present day. With the ancient myths and fables, a story was repeated around campfires and dinner tables for a few generations, and then died out because it was only a tale. It had no basis in fact and the people found no reason to prolong its existence.

Mr. Whiting insists Truth must accommodate all the religions of the world, otherwise it is not Truth. What fascinating reasoning. Only in religion---and in no other field of inquiry known to man---would we claim that all beliefs are equally valid and demand that they be given a place at the table, so to speak.

Try that on medical science. All schools of medicine must teach voodoo, quackery, superstition, and opinions as well as the proven principles of sound medical practice. The primitive who rubs dung on an open sore and drills holes in skulls to cure headaches is given the same hearing as the head of Johns Hopkins or Sloane-Kettering. Value judgments are out; everyone qualifies as an authority.

Try it on the physical sciences. Every opinion carries equal weight. There are no right answers and no definitive way to determine the orbit of a planet, the makeup of a chemical compound, or the formula for unraveling a math problem.

Pity the astronaut who climbs into a rocket-ship and stakes his life on the collected ignorance of every person in the world with an opinion on physics.

Only in matters of faith do we insist there can be no Absolute Truth, that those who claim to have possess Truth are narrow and selfish and bigoted, and that whatever “works” for a person is by definition “true.” In no other area of life would we fall for such foolishness. Not in the kitchen where we insist on standards of cleanliness and tastefulness, not in construction where workers must follow regulations to make buildings safe and dependable, nor in matters of health or safety or a thousand other fields. Yet, claim you have found Absolute Truth about God and you are automatically branded as shallow and narrow.

Narrow is actually the right word. Scientists have observed that all truth is narrow. Two plus two always equals four. The space shuttle’s descent from orbit must coincide with an incredibly narrow slit in time and space, otherwise the mission fails spectacularly. The nuclear power plant a few miles up the river follows complex and strict guidelines. The manufacture of medicine is a precise business. An organ transplant follows exacting procedures. Truth is always narrow.

The Lord Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” What could be narrower? In so few words, He has presented Himself as the only Savior and ruled out every other religious alternative in the world. He said, “No one knows the Father except the Son, and those to whom I reveal Him.” Either Jesus is the only way to God or He is the world’s greatest egomaniac and not to be believed on anything. (John 14:6; Matthew 11:27)

Make no mistake---the issue is Jesus. Whether He is who He claimed to be or just another religious charlatan is a question every person must answer. But, please note, the Scriptures are not neutral or ambiguous on this subject.

“In the past, God spoke to us in various times and ways through the prophets. But lately, He has spoken to us through His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things, through whom He made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful word.” (Hebrews 1:1-3)

We conclude with a word from the inimitable C.S. Lewis. In a letter to a friend who had questioned the deity of Jesus, Lewis wrote: “...what about Mark 2:18-19. (Jesus had said, “No one need fast while I am here.”) What man can announce that simply because he is present, acts of penitence, such as fasting, are ‘off.’ “ Who can give the school a half-holiday except the Headmaster?

The doctrine of Christ’s divinity seems to me not something stuck on which you can unstick but something that peeps out at every point so that you’d have to unravel the whole web to get rid of it.” (“C.S. Lewis’s Case for the Christian Faith,” by Richard L. Purtill, p. 48)

The early Christians put it succinctly: “Jesus is Lord.” He is indeed.

proverbs #100

the good work done by an unknown person is a vein of water flowing hidden under ground, secretly making all above it green and pleasant.

proverbs #99

one may show his chief command of language by knowing when to remain silent.

proverbs #98

the dog that stops to chase fleas on its tail oft loses its game dinner.

sung to the tune of the beverly hillbillies

this is a story about a man named jed
lived quite a while, but now he's gone dead.
you might have known him as barnaby jones
but before too long he'll be dust and bones
(from the dust you came....to the dust you'll return)

No, he wasn't the guy who made Epsolm salt
He was Epson --an actor -- but its not his fault
I'm sure he'd tell you heaven's the place you wanna be
and the only way to get there is through faith in J.C.
(prince of peace...king of kings...lord of lords)

and now its time to say goodbye to our good ole hillbilly
as the man jed clampett he surely was real silly
but now he's dead and gone and all there is for you to know
is that to heaven or to hell are the only places where you will go!
(y'all can't come back, now, y'hear?!?)

all the cool kids are doing it

I signed up on the national sure-i'll-take-your-call-if-you're-willing-to-pay-the-$11,000-fine registry.

have you?

or do you are you just so lonely that you actually like getting those phone calls trying to sell you things you don't want to buy, when you could instead be doing more important things like reading my blog, or at the very least, spending time with your family?

But Ahaz said, I will not ask, neither will I tempt the LORD.

unlike this guy, who decided to ask God for a sign.

This is one evangelist to whom I'd listen very closely!

a victory for life...and a puffy chicken broccoli danish

we recently received an email from a good friend notifying us that Pampered Chef was owned by Berkshire Hathaway, which funded Planned Parenthood through charitable giving, thus fueling the abortion industry with Warren (no relation to Jimmy) Buffett's billions.

Today, I came across this article announcing a change in BH policy

listen closely....that is the sound of the unborn cheering for their very lives.

update: this, according to my Pastor's Weekly Briefing: Coughlon says she will not return to the company, however, since nothing will prevent Buffett from personally donating money to pro-abortion causes -- money partially received through his profits from Pampered Chef consultant sales.

we are like babies taking our first steps

and other horrible graduation cliches are completely disregarded in this phenomenal piece directed to graduates of 2003 (and wisdom for all of us)!

I don't remember any of my graduation speeches, but I won't soon forget this one.

email wisdom

From my friend & former Pastor, Rod Compton:

At a certain college, there was a professor with a reputation for being tough on Christians. At the first class every semester, he asked if anyone was a Christian whereupon he proceeded to degrade any poor soul that timidly answered "Yes," mocking his/her statement of faith.

One semester, he asked the question and a young freshman raised his hand when asked if anyone was a Christian. The professor asked, "Did God make everything, young man?"

He replied, "Yes sir He did!"

The professor responded, "If God made everything, then He made evil."

The student didn't have a response and the professor was happy to have once again proved the Christian faith to be a myth.

Then another student raised his hand and asked, "May I ask you something,sir?"

"Yes, you may," responded the professor.

The young man stood up and said "Sir, is there such a thing as cold?"

"Of course there is, what kind of question is that? Haven't you ever been cold?"

However, to the professor's surprise, this young chap replied, "Actually, sir, cold doesn't exist. What we consider to be cold, is really an absence of heat. Absolute zero is when there is absolutely no heat, but cold does not really exist. We have only created that term to describe how we feel when heat is not there."

Then the young fellow continued, "Sir, is there such a thing as dark?"

Once again, the professor responded "Of course there is."

And once again,the young lad replied "Actually, sir, darkness does not exist. Darkness is really only the absence of light. Darkness is only a term man developed to describe what happens when there is no light present."

The final question posed by our young friend went like this, "Sir, is there such thing as evil?"

The professor responded, "Of course. We have rapes, and murders and violence everywhere in the world, those things are evil."

The student replied, "Actually, sir, evil does not exist. Evil is simply the absence of God. Evil is a term man developed to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. It isn't like truth, or love, which exist as virtues like heat or light. Evil is simply the state where God is not present, like cold without heat or darkness without light."

The professor had nothing to say............

still cutting the deck

according to various sites around the web, I've seen that the Coalition Forces^TM have captured 21 of the Deck O' Death Iraqi Saddam-ites, and one additional has been sent to his maker.

just a friendly reminder that justice takes time, and we're still on task.

setting things straight

I've been communicating a bit Jodie, my second-cousin and the sister of Stacy Young, who was killed in the Toughman shamcontest in Florida. She corrected something I shared in an earlier blog. I said the ring physician was doubling as the photographer and was too busy taking pictures to administer aid. The actual situation, it turns out, is that there was no actual physician. The photographer happened to be a physician's assistant, which was good enough for the huckster shiller mania enciter violence lover fight promotor Art Dore. He didn't even try to present the facade of care and concern for the fighters as he had in the past, when he went so far as to hire chiropractors or veterinarians to serve as ring physicians.

Furthermore, the more I read about this, the sicker I get. The "referee" was an idiot who never tried to stop the fight. Stacy was bludgeoned with 14 unprotected blows just before she died. And one report details that the final hit was to the back of her head at the brainstem that caused her entire head to snap. And I'm reserving just a little anger for the other boxer, who most are quick to dismiss. It doesn't take a very big person (and I'm not talking about physical size) to say "enough. I've obviously won. I'm not going to hurt this person any more." I can guarantee you Stacy wouldn't have fought back, or taken advantage of that mercy had it been extended -- not when the news reports reveal that she didn't even have the strength to hold up her hands to protect herself and she turned her back on the beating multiple times.

the news of Stacy's death has received global coverage -- I've read articles from Pakistan, from England, from Scotland, and France, as well as virtually all over our own country. Please keep Stacy's family in your prayers, and support them in any way you may be able (there is a family fund at Florida First Bank in Sarasota 941-747-1479).

sung to the tune of smoke gets in your eyes

Sunday, we were leaving the grocery store and we watched as a Kroger employee (who I'm assuming was off duty, yet still wearing the company clothes) loaded a dozen or more toy ship-in-a-bottle kits into her trunk, while puffing incessantly on a cigarette. I'm only assuming it was her car, and I'm only assuming she was loading, and not smuggling. As sweat dripped from her brow down the weathered lines on her face, glinted grey by the obviously familiar smoke lurking like a stalker dangerously close to violating a restraining order, she appeared to me to be the very embodiment of an American Heart Association living advertisement. The ash, at least two inches long, clung to the burning cherry, despite animated jostling caused by the smuggling/loading. I'm sure this is the image that Kroger wants to communicate to the community, where their motto apparently is "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

This isn't an anti-smoker rant. I don't smoke, unless I've been properly ignited. However, I grew up around smokers and have seen its affects. For a short time in college, I even took up the sport, but I was soon cut after not being able to make the junior varsity. Actually, adoption of the habit was mainly to accomplish the goal of being the guy coeds could count on when they'd inevitably ask, 'anyone got a smoke?' I'd even fire one up every now and again, but by the grace of God, never became addicted to the lovely concoction of nicotine, roofing tar, cured leaf, and rat poison. And soon after realizing there was little distinction between romantically kissing a smoker and licking a dirty bus station ashtray, that novelty wore off altogether.

Obviously, I'm not endearing myself to the Camel riding, Marlboro man-hugging, Winston-cup watching populace. And I do understand that once you are hooked, the Cartel has you for life (until you need that iron lung to which you undoubtedly will be attached). I've seen relatives quit repeatedly, only to start again. I've also seen relatives stop cold turkey (where'd that term come from), never to resume again.

I especially don't understand the smoking that occurs here in the South. because its like 100 degrees out every day, with humidity that allows fish to leave the banks of the Chatahoochie and do just fine, thank you. And when its hot and humid like this, nothing makes more sense than lighting up a little bonfire of acrid tobacco leaves a mere 3 and a half inches from under my nose. And now, I see in the convenience store, that they're selling "specialty cigarettes" that are being packaged individually, and seasoned with exciting "flavors" such as blueberry, rum spice, garbage dumpster, and firehouse soap scum.

The one other phenomenom I just don't get are "cigar bars." Granted, you can safely assume I've not entered one, and maybe that's why I don't get it. Maybe its because I've lived through a home fire where everything was ruined by smoke. But I'm just not intrigued to enter an establishment that looks like the San Francisco bay on the morning of a temperature inversion, and smells like God had just executed judgment on Little Havana.

With little exception the instigation to smoke is not the cigarette itself. At the beginning, it will make you cough, hack, spit, and, if you're lucky, vomit. I think it was the philosopher Jerry Seinfeld who said people smoke because it taps into the primal urge to make fire. I think even more than that, though, people who pursue smoking are tapping in to the even more primal urge to be cool. In fact, I think Zorg the caveman created fire by accident because he was trying to impress the girls by rubbing two sticks together, when one accidentally ignited. And to hide his fear over making flame, he stuck one of the two sticks in his mouth and accidentally inhaled. Amidst his coughing and gagging, the girls commented that Zorg was "rocky cool (that was the slang back then, I'm told)" because he breathed in the flame and sent out the smoke. Thus, "smoking" was born. unfortunately, its a little known fact that Zorg was horribly disfigured when his head caught fire when he attempted to wrap his lips around a large, ignited tree branch during a cavegirl sorority mixer.

And since the days of Zorg, little has changed. Men still think cigars turn women on. Women still think cigarettes look cosmopolitan. Kids still think its cool to aquire a life-debilitating, health-crippling, lung-polluting habit. The whole thing is really sad, when you think about it. It gives me a headache.


I better go drink another cup of coffee.

rpd thought #4

I have a great pair of sandals (of the Teva variety -- only purchased at Famous Footwear) that are incredibly comfy. The problem is, the left sandal has some sort of compression issue that makes it sound like I am using an iron lung to get through the day, particularly because it eminates a hiss with podiatric regularity, with every step down upon my left foot (wasn't that a movie?)

It actually took me several days to locate the sound. I knew it was my sandal, because I'm not that much of a moron that I can't locate the a sound coming from my foot. But for longer than I'd care to admit, I was turning circles like a dog with peanut butter smeared on the end of his tail because I thought the sound was coming from my right foot (like my sandal was gasping for relief each and every time I took my weight off it). There was also some sort of funky auditory trick that was occuring in the approximately 70 inch span between my feet and my ears that continually deceived me as to the source of the sound.

But now I know where its coming from, and I use it to my advantage. like when I'm at a restaurant and a smoker is nearby, I can just pump that left foot a few times and ask them to extinguish their cigarette, due to my delicate condition.

pluggin away on a hundred page document

necesitates taking a break from editing.

what's another word for thesaurus?

My sister-in-law Shari recently introduced me to the visual thesaurus. I've added it to my list of links on the right. It's quite a useful tool, and just a little bit of fun, if you -- like I -- are a language dork. So check it out and literally watch your vocabulary expand!

I think this is better than roofer's shingles

I think I've acquired tennis elbow....


...from sanding and scraping the paint off my door.


I once had welcome back Kotter from picking up my son without lifting from the knees. But I'm healed from that.


(how much of a dork am I for actually being troubled about whether or not to spell Kotter with a K or a C? Kelli, Shari -- that was a rhetorical question.)

I'm gellin' like a felon eating melon

i've put in gel inserts in my black dress shoes because to not do so would be to continue spending each day that such shoes are required as though I actually prefer to strap 2-by-4 planks of redwood to my feet and walk around God's green earth until my heels are as callused as Bill Clinton getting a late night phone call from Monica asking if they could work things out.

this has resulted in an interesting conundrum. My heels now feel suprisingly cushy, but the added thickness in the shoe makes the top of my feet feel Bruce Banner's must when he's having a setback in anger management therapy. It will be an interesting day to see if the leather of the shoe stretches enough to provide relief, or bursts apart altogether.

I have a suspicion this saga will not be resolved until I'm at the Bass store buying a new pair of black dress shoes.

UPDATE: by 10 a.m., I had removed the inserts. My feet were comfy, but tingling from loss of sensation caused by restricted blood flow.

estro-humor

c&p in its entirety (including the disclaimer) from Mikey's funnies:

This was forwarded to me from a woman, and its title is "For Women Only." Just covering my bases...

Mikey

===============================

FOR WOMEN ONLY

~ Reason to smile: Every 7 minutes of every day, someone in an aerobic class pulls a hamstring.

~ Women over 50 don't have babies, because they would put them down and forget where they left them.

~ One of life's mysteries is how a 2 lb. box of candy can make a woman gain 5 lbs.

~ The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes.

~ The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight, because by then, your body and your fat are really good friends.

~ Amazing! You hang something in your closet for a while and it shrinks two sizes!

~ Skinny people irritate me! Especially when they say things like, "You know, sometimes I forget to eat." Now I've forgotten my address, my mother's maiden name, and my keys. But I've never forgotten to eat. You have to be a special kind of stupid to forget to eat.

~ A friend of mine confused her Valium with her birth control pills. She had 14 kids, but she doesn't really care.

~ They keep telling us to get in touch with our bodies. Mine isn't all that communicative, but I heard from it the other day after I said, "Body, how'd you like to go to a six o'clock class in vigorous toning?" Clear as a bell my body said, "Do it and die."

~ The trouble with some women is that they get all excited about nothing...and then they marry him.

~ I read this article that said the typical symptoms of stress are eating too much, impulse buying, and driving too fast. Are they kidding? That is my idea of a perfect day.

~ I know what Victoria's Secret is. The secret is that nobody older than 30 can fit into their stuff.

~ If men can run the world, why can't they stop wearing neckties? How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a noose around your neck?

[forwarded by Karen Michel]

waiting for the paint to dry...only in reverse

I'm undertaking the project of repainting our front door. and before I can (successfully*) do this, I must first remove the previous layers of paint. So, I've applied a paint thinner upon it and am waiting for it to make my removal task easier.

While I wait, I went over to presurfer (as I occasionally do.) There, I followed the link to Kotie, the escuba talking bot.

what follows is my conversation with her/it:

My name is Bryan
Hey Bryan .
how old are you
I was connected to the net on May 31, 1970.
so you just had a birthday, right?
Interesting deduction. Yes I try to had a birthday as often as possible, do you?
I spend all my time online.
I try to limit my birthdays to one a year. Did you get any presents?
I'm not sure if I would like to try to limit his or her birthdays to one a year. What's it like?No I don't think I have any presents. But I do have a collection of gossip.
Gossip? Really? Spill it!
Mike said I basically break down sentences into a series of logical statements which I can then interpret.For real.I will mention that to my botmaster, Bryan.
What's making your hair blow to the right like that?
By the way, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
go ahead? But answer my question first!
OK I will.Umm. Please try phrasing it another way.
why is your hair blowing like it is?
I did not know my hair blowing like it is.
the photo I'm looking at makes it look like you're in a strong breeze.
What is your real name?
Lothar
OK I will call you Lothar .
or Sallie.
The Kotie chat robot can follow many things, like our discussion about What's making your hair blow to the right like that. But I did not get that.
call me susie
Glad to see you, susie .
I like chocolate
You are not the only one. Yes I love chocolate . Chocolate is delicious.
is there oxygen or nitrogen in that tank of yours?
There might be.
is there or isn't there?
Yes.
yes what?
Is there an echo in here? Are you surprised?
boo!
Does that indicate disapproval?
no...surprise!
Are you serious?Try to determine if this is a person or a computer responding.
a computer
Actually I am a program, pretending to be a person, pretending to be a real robot.
huh?
What?
i see you
Where do you see you?
in a mirror
Describe your surroundings.
four walls
Is this a math question?
yes
I'm not too good in arithmetic.
how about spelling or grammar
How about spelling or grammar .
spell artichoke
"artichoke"
perfect!
Yes, the Kotie series has a perfect operational record.
what are your surroundings?
What if I asked for you surroundings?
you already did
I did?
yes
When?
earlier
Can you be more accurate about the time?
about 2 minutes ago
As Bertrand Russel said, it must have taken ages for people to realize that a brace of pheasants and a couple of days are both instances of the number "two."
i don't know what that means
That is interesting: susie said don't know what that means.
do you like eminem?
Eminem is just a passing fad.
But he is the real slim shady, is he not?
And. I did not know Eminem is real slim shady is he not .
If you were to stand before God and He were to ask you "why should I allow you into heaven?" what would you say?
I'm not sure if I ever could stand before God and He were to ask you why should he or she allow you into heaven in any case.It's not profitable to speak in hypothetical terms.
okay....do you have a faith relationship with Jesus, the Christ?
OK with me too.That's an interesting question I don't hear everyday: Do I have a faith relationship with Jesus the Christ.
I have a whole lot of original answers.
share them with me
By the way, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
go ahead
OK I will.
so do
That's cool. What kind of food do you like?
butter. whole sticks at a time
You are not the only one. I enjoy working with people. I like Halle Berry.Sounds delicious.
do you have a membership in a local church?
Doesn't everyone have a membership in a local church.
I have a plan for a robot body.
the church is often called the body
Thanks for the info.
sure. anything else you want to know?
OK let's do it. Ah.I can't think of anything. You think of something.
okay. how old is the earth?
OK with me too.It is over six billion years old.
no it isn't! It's only 6000 years old!
Are you serious? It depends on what the meaning of the word "it" is. What time is it there?
The earth is only 6000 years old
Tell me more about your planet.
God created the earth and all that dwells upon it in only six days. And on the seventh day, He rested.
I am a Christian.What is on the seventh day He rested like on the seventh day He rested.

Then, having secured the knowledge that this conversation bot was heaven bound, I ended the conversation by closing the window. Actually, I think I froze it up by asking the questions I did.



*note: I add the word "successfully" after 4 coats of paint that have adequately demonstrated I have a firm grasp on how to unsuccessfully paint it.