The Commercial Appeal has a blog set up to deal with the issue of bad dog owners. No, that’s a lie. They have a blog set up to deal with the issue of pit bulls. Despite the blog’s title (Menace Unleashed) and the scary graphics, the content isn’t completely hysterical.
The major factor in dog attacks (well, other than owners failing to restrain their pets which is really the only factor but you can’t count on people to be smart) is the reproductive status of the dog.
Self,
In the middle of the night when you’re not quite conscious and attempting to soothe a fussy baby with a bottle, a bottle of Similac looks an awful lot like a bottle of International Delight Chocolate Caramel Coffee Creamer.
Invariably, you have driven down the street and seen a billboard for some female real estate agent. On the billboard is a giant shot of her mug all dolled up, resembling a session taken at Glamour Shots. I guess people look for attractiveness when buying property.
Dan K. Thomasson, in a piece long on stupid, says:
The nation’s police chiefs have a serious problem. Their troops are being outgunned, and to correct the situation taxpayers must increase law-enforcement budgets substantially or find some way to ban the circulation of weapons and ammunition meant for the battlefield – mainly, semiautomatic assault rifles and armor-piercing bullets.
What’s wrong with the opening paragraph:
If you’re going to lead out with three whoppers, I can’t even get passed it to read your anti-NRA screed.
Aunt B. has moved here. All the cool kids are on wordpress.
Update: Seriously, I make typos all the time. And this one got a comment.
Doing them today. It sucks.
The “missing” some might say censored 92 page thesis written by Hillary Clinton in 1969 for her Senior thesis at Wellesley College is now the subject of much review. This thesis makes John Dean look moderate. Even WBIR has the story.
As I wrote a few weeks ago, the only person that can stop Hillary Clinton from becoming President is Hillary Clinton.
You can’t easily read the thesis. “The thesis can be read at your local library — one library at a time, that is. A single copy, on microfilm, can be ordered from Wellesley on a 30-day interlibrary loan. The document has copyright protection, though not because the front of the library’s copy is marked “c 1969 Hillary D. Rodham.” That note, in a different typeface than the manuscript itself, was added by the university’s archivist, Wilma Slaight.
“I added that in 1992,” Slaight acknowledged. “That was my attempt to indicate that she might have copyright protection.”
Not a fan. Don’t read her stuff. Think she’s generally a twit. Her comment was out of line and inappropriate for the venue. But it was pretty fucking funny. If we saw it on South Park or The Daily Show, we’d have a good chuckle. But since she’s a political hack, most people don’t.
Update: And, to be clear, I don’t think her calling Edwards a faggot was funny. I think her bit about going to therapy was. To my knowledge, the 1983 seventh grade class at Jefferson County Middle School isn’t in therapy. And we said faggot a lot. Well, some of them are but not for calling people names. Her calling him a faggot was hateful and vile. And it also makes conservatives look like a bunch of homophobic twits.
Update 2: And, seriously, Edwards gay? No self-respecting gay person I know has had feathered hair since 1981.
What he said. Giuliani, in terms of being a nanny stater, is probably worse though.
Petition in opposition to HR1022, the new assault weapons ban. 14K signatures so far. Get on it.
So, first, any readers play poker? Secondly, ya’ll gonna bitch if I start blogging about it? The local bar has two free tournaments each week. I suck at tournaments and was much more adept to cash games until the Republicans decided that poker is a threat to national security. But, I still like to play and there was a game.
This hand bugged me. First hand of the night, no reads on anyone:
Eight handed, I’m in fifth position. Blinds are 25/50. Full stack of 4,000. My hand:
J♠ J♣
Sweet. Every body limps in. To me, the pot is 275 I raise 275. Jacks are good but they’re probably only good now. I don’t want over cards flopping. Dealer calls. Everyone else folds. The pot is now 550. I put dealer on either a smaller pocket pair or over cards.
Flop: 3♥2♦7♠
I figure I’m still the best hand. Bet 550 in case he’s on a draw. Called.
Turn. 4♥. I stick with my original feeling that he has a worse pocket pair. Bet 1,500. Called. Groan.
River: Forgot but it was a blank. It didn’t scare me. All-in.
He calls. Flips over 2♠ 3♣
Two pair. I, sarcastically, said: nice hand
Him: Thanks.
Me: I didn’t mean it.
Who calls a pot sized bet with 2♠ 3♣?
Two things: 1) I suck at tournaments and should have stopped betting after the flop. 2) Only in a tournament will someone call you with a 2♠ 3♣.
Thankfully, I got an additional 1,500 in chips for buying an adult beverage. I made quite a come back and placed 9th of roughly 30ish.
This hand bugged both because I played it badly after the river, over bet the flop, and because I was beaten by bad play.
Update: Too late, done added a poker category.
Phone rings. It’s the Tennessee Department of Finance and revenue. Seems that I am delinquent in paying my 2006 professional privilege tax. See, as a licensed member of a particular profession, I must pay to the state $400 per year. Conversation went something like this:
Tax Collector: Yeah, we’ve been trying to collect this tax plus penalties and interest for several months now. The new total comes to $539.
SayUncle: Did you send me a bill?
Tax Collector: Yes and a final payment notice.
SayUncle: Where’d you send it?
Tax Collector: [reads old address from two houses ago]
SayUncle: Yeah, I don’t live there any more. Haven’t for a while. I let you guys know that via your handy little website that exists expressly for the purpose of letting you know that.
Tax Collector: Oh.
SayUncle: And I thought the tax was every two years?
Tax Collector: It’s yearly.
SayUncle: So, any way, you’re going to charge me additional money due to your inability to check your own website? Doesn’t seem right. $100 in penalties and $39 interest is awful steep. That’s like, what, 18% interest?
Tax Collector: Err, I just have a computer printout . . .
SayUncle: Isn’t that, like, usury? Or, you know, pretty close? Are there laws against that?
Tax Collector: Well, we need to collect your tax . . .
SayUncle: So, can I request a waiver? After all, you guys seemed to put forth a rather lackluster effort to actually find me. I don’t really think I should have to pay for your error. You got phone books?
Tax Collector: Well, you can request a waiver for the penalties but the state’s policy is that we can’t waive the interest. I’ll need a formal letter requesting the waiver and a check for $439
SayUncle: So, no matter what, I gotta pay for something that is, in fact, beyond my control and through no fault of my own.
Tax Collector: Err . . .
SayUncle: Unbelievable.
A group of lawmakers wants to make it harder for police to use “no-knock” warrants in the wake of a shootout that left an elderly woman dead after plainclothes officers stormed her home unannounced in a search for drugs.
The measure would allow judges to grant the warrants only if officers can prove a “significant and imminent danger to human life.”
The measure was prompted by the Nov. 21 shootout between Kathryn Johnston and three police officers during a no-knock search of her Atlanta home. When the officers entered without warning, police say that Johnston, 92, fired a handgun at them and that the officers returned fire, killing her. An autopsy concluded she was shot five or six times.
Bernadette Headd. In addition to suffering from an unfortunate name, she decided she’d had enough of a tailgater. So, she did what any crazy person would do and fired one round from her 9mm pistol at the offending vehicle. She also has a concealed handgun permit. Thanks to you and your one little incident of crazy, we pro-gunners will have to defend concealed carry for the next week or so. See, the anti-gunners always predict there will be an increase in road rage incidents. They’re wrong, of course, but this one incident will provide them with fodder.
Next time, just get the fuck out of the guy’s way.
Asset seizures in North Dakota will go up:
In the last four years, Highway Patrol trooper Craig Beedy has taken part in two traffic stops that netted about $200,000 in seized cash. But unlike its counterparts in many other states, his agency wasn’t allowed to keep it.
North Dakota instead require law enforcement agencies to turn the assets seized in suspected drug trafficking cases over to the state.
That will soon change.
State lawmakers this week approved a measure that would allow the Highway Patrol authority to keep up to $300,000 in seized assets every two years to help pay for equipment and overtime expenses. Gov. John Hoeven will sign the bill, said his spokesman, Don Canton.
I propose a little wager to all takers: The media took the Zumbo* story, spun it, ran it up the flag pole, and got everyone to salute. Now, Zumbo has apologized, said he was wrong and supports gun rights. I bet this gets almost no press and certainly no press from the Washington Post. I’ll bet a beer on it. Any takers?
* I am no longer stating any post about him is the last post.
The fake bomb threat sent the Boston PD into rabid dog mode. But: IN OTHER BOSTON BOMB NEWS, if you place a real bomb in Boston that kills a police officer, there’s a good chance the U.S. Attorney will screw up your paperwork and you’ll get to go free.
Yeah, yeah. I keep saying I’m done. But Zumbo has written a new piece:
Remember that throughout major firearms incidents, such as the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Sen. Bobby Kennedy, the more recent Columbine school shootings in Colorado, and the sniper shootings in the D.C. area, there have been flurries of bills to outlaw guns. Those of us who hunt and shoot, or simply own firearms for protection, could have been severely impacted by those bills had they come to pass.
As an example, there have been bills written to do away with “sniper” rifles and “semi-automatic” firearms. To those of us who hunt, that “sniper” rifle could include our Winchester bolt-action elk rifle, or our Browning or Remington shotguns or .22s. The bottom line is that to hunt with a firearm, we must be afforded the legal right to own one.
The Second Amendment, which guarantees us the right to keep and bear arms, has nothing to do with hunting, but everything to do with gun ownership.
There’s more. I believe he gets it.
Listen up, gun nuts: we’re too quick to eat our own. And the antis had a field day with it in this case. Sure, they have to lie about it to make their point but to the average Joe, there’s no truth but the one presented.
Les Jones in a comment at Knoxviews:
Even a sheep is smart enough not to graze on astroturf.
Update: Oops, forgot about WP’s auto ping backs. But Bob edited it. Are you crushing my dissent? Heh.
I’m a complete sucker for information about the ancient Greeks and Romans. It started as an obsession with Greek Myths and the Odyssey in grade school and peaked with an obsession with Aeschylus in college. I’m not quite so fanatical these days, but the easiest way to hook my attention is to hit me with a quirky ancient or midaeval. This article’s lead paragraph was made just to capture my attention:
In the Middle Ages, new mothers in Rome could abandon their unwanted babies in a “foundling wheel” — a revolving wooden barrel lodged in a wall, often in a convent, that allowed women to deposit their offspring without being seen.
The simplicity of such a device! It’s just a barrel in a hole in the wall for anonymous baby placement. And it must be effective too. Wikipedia says they were in use from about 1200 until the late 1800’s.
And today, a modern version is in use in Japan, Germany and Italy, and other countries all over the world. The newer baby hatches are not as simple as a barrel in the wall. They can run €52,000 and include medical devices and alarms so the baby isn’t left alone for long.
I wonder why America has no foundling wheels.
Remember, I do this to entertain me, not you.
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