It was just too bloody hot all day. And I can't find any energy left after working all day in that humidity... maybe in the morning I'll come up with something.
Oh yeah, go Sabres!
On this Memorial Day, I wish that I could say how much I appreciate the sacrifice that so many have made so that I could live in this wonderful country. A sacrifice that I know that I have done nothing to deserve, and can do nothing to earn. But one that was made freely.
So on this day, remember those who gave all so that you and I might have the freedoms that we cherish so much. Hug a vet. Place flowers or a flag at a fallen hero's grave. Weep a little at what was given up on our account. Remember them.
And remember the words of a truely great man. One who also was humbled at the cost of freedom. But who would not let their sacrifice be wasted.
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
-Abraham Lincoln. Gettysburg, Pensylvania. November 19, 1863.
Boy, sometimes I really wonder about Harvey. Of all the strange things to learn about Evil Glenn, Harv want's to know how Evil Glenn dresses for work?
We're talking about a blogger here. An evil blogger, but a blogger none the less. And that implies pajamas or even less.... *shudder*
But I'm going to assume that Harv's asking about how Evil Glenn dresses for his day job. Proffessor at some university or another.
Well, I managed to talk to a former valet of Evil Glenn's. The poor man was almost completely mad, but I managed to get some information out of him in the small period of lucidity he had as his sedatives were kicking in.
First, when Evil Glenn rolls out of bed, he kicks off his pajamas (or, if it was a cold night, his puppy-fur lined penguin suit) and stands au-natural, spraddle legged and spread armed, and lets himself air out for a full minute. Then he hops into the shower for 15 seconds, just long enough for his hair to get wet enough for his comb-over to work.
Once he's done with brushing his teeth and flossing (using the puppy collar from the previous night's puppy-shake) he skips back into his bedroom humming the theme to "Bonanza."
Back in his bedroom, he quickly puts on his left sock and a pirate eyepatch (over his right eye). He goes to the closet and picks out a shirt and slides it on over his head - the buttons are already all done up, so sometimes he get's stuck with it over his head and flails around for a bit. He then grabs the coat-hanger and pretends to be Captain Hook. (About half the time, he stabs himself with the hanger...)
After bandaging himself, if necessary, he then puts on his other sock and a tie. Then he slides across the wood floor to a large doorway and starts singing "Old Time Rock N' Roll" into his hair brush.
After the big finale to his musical number, he prances back into the bedroom and puts on his pants. BOTH legs at once! With a final flourish, he slides into his sandals and holds his feet out for the valet to buff.
Then, when he zips up, he then realizes that yet again, he's forgotten his underwear. What follows almost defys explanation. Somehow, Evil Glenn manages to put his underwear (tighty whiteys by the way) on without removing his pants. It involves a great deal of contortion, the coat-hanger he was playing with earler, and a lot of snapping elastic.
And that is HOW Evil Glenn gets dressed every morning. Don't you wish you had stopped reading in the first paragraph?
I have a compression strap on my right arm (right below the elbow) to help alleviate some of the pain from the tendonitis I have while I work. Because it's black, some people think I'm in mourning for some guy named ACE...
Well, since offering treats hasn't enticed the Iranians into giving up their "for energy production only" nuclear program, it might be time for a little negative re-enforcement.
Specifically, a whack across the nose with a rolled up newspaper.
Hey, it works on pets!
All we have to do is deploy the Army's Special Forces: Newspaper Division to go in and let the Iranian president (I could look up his name, but I'm too lazy to try spelling it) know that he's been a bad boy.
Plus, if they've got enough time after doing that, they can unroll the paper and see if they can finally get Amminnnasziossnski (OK, I'm pretty sure that's not how you spell the Iranian president's name, but who cares?) house-broken.
But then again, this may be beyond even the abilities of the best of all Special Forces...
I missed the Filthy Lie this weekend. I hope that Harvey doesn't revoke my Alliance Membership. I did manage to get the round-up done earlier today so that should help.
Basically what happened was Friday, when I normally type up my entry (I know, procrastination is my middle name) I got really slammed at work. We did some major remodeling to the store, which took up a lot of time. And energy. And I was too beat at the end of the day to do it when I got home.
Saturday dawned cold and dreary. No problem as I was taking the opportunity to sleep in. Then I went outside to mow the lawn... some parts of it for the first time this year. But as I was getting the mower out, I was asked to make an emergency trip to the Sam's Club for business supplies. (One of the drawbacks to living next door to work is getting asked to do errands on your own time.) No problem. I figured that I could run to the store and be back before the Sabres game easy.
I did. And the game was great to watch. Buffalo won 3-2. And I looked cool in the Sabres t-shirt I picked up at Sams.
OK, the Sabres game ended and I went outside to mow... hay my back yard. I got about half way through it before I couldn't get the mower to restart. (I was practically pull starting it around the lawn. Long, wet grass tends to bog down a mower, don't you know.) I yanked the sparkplug out. Very carbonized. It's my dad's mower and he hadn't changed the plug since.... well, ever I think.
So a trip up to the hardware store later, I was back mowing the lawn. (Clearing the air-filter really helped it run better too.)
Eventually, I finished the 30min job in just under 2 hours. And since I was so physically beat from all that, I had no choice but to play World of Warcraft for a while. (I'm still working on leveling up a Rogue alt.)
And that's my lame excuse for why I never got a filthy lie written.
(I suppose I could have just spent this time writing a filthy lie, but where would the fun been in that?)
This week's assignment was supposed to be an exercise in using our imaginations... namely, what would Donald Rumsfeld's blog be like, if he had one?
Ironically, it turns out he alread does.
You know that feeling right between when you think your foot should have touched the ground (as you step off what you thought wass the last rung of a ladder) and the time when you actually do?
I do, now.
I keep telling everyone there's a reason I don't like heights... but do they listen?
Just want to let everyone know that it's not too late to jump on the Sabre's Bandwagon.
Oh, did I forget to mention that the Sabres beat Ottawa last night 3-2 in overtime? Knocking Ottawa out of the playoffs.
BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!
That's what the Senators get for going up against a team named after a weapon!
We've still got to wait and see who the Sabres are playing next. The Carolina/New Jersey series is still going... but the 'Canes are up 3-1 in the series over the Devils, so it's probably going to be Bufalo/Carolina in the Easter Conference Finals.
Well, I just happen to be too lazy this week to come up with a new Filthy Lie. So I'm taking a page out of blog-father Harvey's book and recycling this entry from last year. Besides, doesn't Evil Glenn do the same thing every year?
Everyone has a mother. It's a biological necessity. Even Saddam Hussein had a mother. (He had her boiled in camel milk as an April Fools joke, but that's another story.)So it should come as no surprise that even Evil Glenn has a mother. And so, he also has to celebrate Mother's Day.
Thus, the question was raised:
What does Evil Glenn do for Mother's Day?
And to this end, I give you
Incredibly Inane Information about Evil Glenn's Mother's Day.
* Evil Glenn used to give his mother fresh flowers every Mother's Day. But now that the cemeteries all lock their gates at night, he has a hard time stealing them from the memorials.
* He once sent her a box of chocolate covered nuts for Mother's Day, but she had an allergic reaction to them.
* The next year he just sent her a big jar of nuts. It turns out she wasn't allergic to the chocolate, like he thought.
* Another time, Evil Glenn dressed up like Santa Clause and climbed down her chimney to deliver her flowers.
* He gets confused about holidays, and sometimes mixes them up.
* Fortunately, it was a warm night, so the fire wasn't too big.
* Too bad his name isn't Chester. (sorry really bad/obscure joke)
* Unlike his father who apreciates getting a big bottle of liquor for Father's Day, Evil Glenn's mother doesn't like to drink.
* So Glenn's dad get's booze in both in June and May!
* Evil Glenn has gotten so cheep that he's started giving recycled greeting cards.
* This year she's getting a Bah Mitzvah card.
* At least it's better than the "Congratulations on the Successful Sex Change Operation!" card she got last year.
Well, since a lot of people are dissapointed with Moussaoui only getting life in prison (instead of life in front of a firing squad... with pork bullets), Harvey asked what other sentence would have been appropriate for the admitted terrorist.
Well, in keeping with the spirit of playoff hockey (Buffalo is up 3-0 over Ottawa in the second round...) I thought that Moussaoui could become the official Hockey Puck Tester for the NHL.
When pucks are made for the NHL, they are frozen for a few weeks and then tested for a maximum allowable bounce. This is to make sure that all of the pucks behave the same.
What I am proposing is that instead of the current test. Simply tie Moussaoi into a net - naked of course - and use a high velocity puck gun of some sort to pummel him. Any pucks that rebound beyond a set distance will be deemed unsuited for NHL play. And then re-loaded into the gun for further testing. And instead of just the test sample (a small, but representative percentage of all the pucks used), every hocky puck used by the NHL can be tested! And once all the official NHL pucks have been cleared for use (some tens of thousands of pucks), we can then test all the practice and non-league quality pucks (millions and millions of them).
Miller stole this one from Ottawa.
Hmmm. The Sabres are up 2-0 in the series and are heading home for games 3 and 4 Wednesday and Thursday... there's still the possibility of a sweep. Not that I think it's a sure thing. Ottawa's too good to completely count out.
Wow.
Just. Wow.
Sabres over the Senators.
18 seconds into overtime.
After tying the score with 11 seconds to go in the third period.
After giving up the lead with 1:13 to go in the third.
After tying the game 24 seconds earlier.
This may have been the greatest hockey game of the year.
(I'm trying real hard not to giggle right now...)
Like just about everyone who travels in political circles, Evil Glenn has his own personal position on Illegal Imigration.
His official position on the subject is standing on one leg with his right foot tucked behind his left knee (like a number 4) while his left-hand index finger is in his ear and his right hand grabs his collar behind his head. He usually stands on a copy of the Wall Street Journal, but said that he could be persuaded to move to a glossy mag if anyone has convincing arguements for such a move.
Frankly, it doesn't make any less sense than the White House's position to me....
I guess it's time to give up blogging. As soon as Dan Rather's site goes up, all the credibility that we bloggers have worked so hard to create will be gone in an instant....
Eh. So what.
It's not like I was doing anything with my credibility anyways. I guess the question is, what will Danny boy be blogging about?
My guess is that he'll be a sort of left-wing Instapundit. Except instead of linking to real news stories from around the world. Dan will just link to stuff on the Democratic Underground with comments like: "SEE!" and "I told you so!" and "He said BOOBIES" (Ok, that last one will just be when he links to Harvey.)
Hopefully he won't sink to cat-blogging. But you never know...
With the Five Second Rule of dropped food, does the food have to be picked up within five seconds, or do you just have to say "Five Second Rule" within the five seconds? What if you're alone?
And what about dropped food that lands on the table? Is it still just 5 seconds or do you get extra time because the table should be cleaner than the floor?
And a Spacemonkey corrolary, (not that I think he would ever bring himself so low as to read this blog) would you wipe up gravy off the table with your finger and lick it? Assuming all the Five Second Rule criteria were met.