SPITZER HAS USED HOOKERS FOR 10 YEARS: SOURCES - New York Post

Disgraced Gov. Spitzer dropped up to $80,000 on sex with prostitutes, sources revealed tonight.

Note to the Obamaniacs: Spitzer was the last Great Democratic God of Reform and Change and Hope dropped on an unsuspecting electorate. And those sleek peoples from Manhattan are way smarter than us hillbillies. IJS.

In the meantime:

• Hypocritical cocksucker gets his nuts in a vise…shocking, I tells ya. Ho hum. Anyone who didn’t see this coming after reading all the loving horseshit from the Noo Yawk papers was willingly idiotic.
• 10 years? Dude’s 48…that means he was whoredogging at 38 at an absolute minimum. An extremely rich and certainly powerful man choosing to get his freak on with pay-for-play at thirty-eight years of age? Dude…zero game. Ejected from the Man Species.
• Eighty thousand motherfucking dollars? That’s 8k per year, or seven Benjis per month. There’s more — way more.
• Or there are a veritable plethora of Manhattanesque chippies wishing like hell they’d called the Post last week.
• I just want to know how you ask your wife to stand up there on the toob by your side and take the fall for being a whoredog with you. I bet he sent a servant to do the begging for him. This asshole didn’t sit at the kitchen table and spill the beans.
• A more interesting psychological/sociological question that precisely noboby cares about for more than 10 seconds is how you, as a wife and a mother, stand up there on the toob by his side and take the fall with the cocksuck.
• My answer to the immediately-above is that there is a game played on a level I can’t even comprehend that revolves power and perceived power amongst her group of hens and beta-roosters.
• I’m stuck wondering what a $5000 piece of tail is like. Except, it doesn’t exist. Except in the minds of these tremendously rich & powerful dorks who like to tell everybody else how to live. UPDATE: WONDERING NO MO TKS ACE UDAMAN

Eh, it should be shocking to nobody. The only fun left in this is over/under prop bets on what kind of deal he works out. Looking at him, I bet he rolls on somebody low and then walks. Speaking of The Wahr and all, as we just were…

Party Poker Blog

If only one of you picks up Season One DVD of The Wire and begins the journey, I’ll have done my duty.

Take a chance on one of the most important TV shows ever made.
And by important, I mean awesome.

Probably not what you’d expect out something titled Party Poker Blog, but that’s our Iggster.

I’ll just boil down what I said to the man, and it’s that not one single iota of what was presented to (apparently only) a rapt few is news to anyone older than 35. And I’ll throw another twist in here that I didn’t throw at my buddy, and that’s that No Country For Old Men is the prologue to this, but David Simon didn’t live it, so it didn’t make it to the Golden Hallowed Halls of HBO.

Still, I think it’s probably an important ‘thing.’ I’m purposely vague with the noun ‘thing’, because what do you call a teevee series that unfolded over five seasons on a network that charges people extra to see, and is now only available in a box-set from Amazon? It’s not an event. Maybe all this ends up at Half-Price books cheap, like I found 90% of my learning. I’d say it’s worth it, but I say that reading all of Cormac McCarthy’s books are worth it. I’d say that watching all of the Coens’ movies is worth it. Hell, to me, all of it’s worth it, really, if it’s worth it to you — it’s your time. Bottom line, I think there’s a qualitative difference between an ensemble series that requires play-actors who might not even understand the words in their mouth and unfolds over five years on pay satellite, when it’s compared to a Moby Dick or an In Cold Blood or a Blood Meridian.

But, and this is my Important Point — don’t go thinking a book or a movie or a teevee series is going to change how most of the world works.

Unless you’re American Idol, and then you can suck in lots of morons and get them to think well of those Clay and Carrie pretty people, and force them onto your NASCAR broadcasts and me out onto the deck to check the smoker.

Dang, I gotta go get a blood test tomorrow and I’ve done nothing but drink beer since 8pm. I’ve got thirty minutes before I go on my ‘fast.’ Screw ‘em. I haven’t felt as regularly bad as I feel right now with five damn prescriptions in me, in my entire life, including lying in the hospital with flesh-eating bacteria trying to kill me. I think I’ll just go on the cave-man + hayseed diet and see how far it takes me. I’ve actually grown to love the cake-bowl salad, and who couldn’t eat brisket five nights a week? I do love fresh-baked sourdough, though. Brand-new hot bread with butter is the devil’s work, I tell you.

Bet this is causing a scramble for potential open postings in the Pentagon:

Any army with a uniform that includes miniskirts and 3-inch stiletto heels, AND enough ladies who can pull it off? Frightening ruthlessness.

Via SP…

RANDOM THOUGHT UPDATE: I bet this plays hell with the OODA loop.

…I guess that was a pretty good ending. Lots of pretty bows for the people who absolutely have to have bows. I’m not one of those, but I appreciate the nod from the writers to the readers/watchers. I mean, it was nice to see Bubbs eating with his sis, and McNulty rescuing the crazy homeless guy, and whats-her-name, the cute freckly redhead, getting the judgeship a/k/a job for life. I think the lesson you should take from the ending of The Wahr is that if you go along, you’ll get along, and the closer you can tie yourself to the hull of the ship of state, the better your getting-along will be. Be a barnacle - it’s a good lesson for the coming Obama years.

Still, getting into piss-and-moan mode, David Simon is a pussy for ditching. He could have dragged this out for several more years, and I wish he had, because it was good appointment teevee. But he’s got his millions, so why bother at this point? I can’t say that I would bother, were I in his shoes, but then, I would have had a whale of time having fun with it, rather than trying to change millenia of human behaviour in five seasons of episodic teevee. That’s the artist, though. Hats off to them for trying.

And now I’m off to cancel the ginormous movie channel package on DirecTV, unless someone finds the words to talk me into watching Gabriel Byrne do his soul-shredding best not to bang psychotic hotties and be mortified when he does. Maybe get some hockey and baseball, instead.

NB: In my perfect world, Duquon would have been the one doing the debate last week and having a decent future. It’s very sad to me that he’s shooting up dope in the stables. But in the real world, we lose lots of ammo against the Forces of Darkness, so it’s not one eyelash off the mark. We still should shed a tear and say a little prayer.

I wish I’d been informed of this revolting development. I don’t know if we’re now on it or off it, but it means I’ll be smoking briskets till midnight probably. I unsuspectingly slept in a little bit this morning, thanks to being up late, driving back from Gruene after seeing Ryan Bingham and Joe Ely. Not the whole show for Joe…he was playing in 3/4 time last night, and I was getting drowsy. Good show by Bingham, on the other hand. The kid’s definitely more talented, in all areas, than Nashville freaks like Chesney and Urban and Brooks and Overdunn, and those schmucks that sell Chevy trucks. But you’re not going to see him on any broadcast-network “awards” show. OK, I’m done ranting and raving - the taste of Americans is an absolute mystery to me, and I’m even tired of myself being a pedant about it. At least the crowd at the show was a good one, covering all age ranges and looks, including the untucked-striped-shirt-with-French-cuff gelled-up fauxhawk douchebags, who I would have thought would be somewhere further north or south, not in a 2×6-planked dance hall.

ObCrappyCellCamShot

Set list:
Dollar A Day
Going Down (Who did the original? Cool old rock song, though…ancient, in fact.)
Take it Easy, Mama
Hard Times
Unknown - something about going to Tulsa, which is a long way from Pittsburgh
Long Way From Georgia
Good flamenco-y showoff-y, instrumental-y, Al Dimeola-sounding intro into…
Boracho Station
Sunrise (”seen them girls/shake their ass/underneath the sunrise/taste the sugar/on their lips/underneath the moon-light“)
Southside of Heaven
Travelin’ Jones
What Its Worth
Sunshine (that song of his that has a Zep/Levee feel to it, kinda, a little bit.)
Bread & Water - just freaking awesome, my favorite off of Mescalito

Joe Ely, being a good Lubbock boy, did pay tribute to Buddy Holly by playing a couple of his songs, which are always nice to hear. He had an accordion player with him, too. He also did The Torture Party Never Ends, (The Road Goes On Forever) which I guess by this point is obligatory for every Texas dance hall, but I’m sure tired of it. The kids loved it, though, so that’s OK. Whatever keeps the kids paying to see this kind of music.

Oh, and I’m smoking briskets because I shot my drunk mouth off to my partner & his girlfriend about how it’s just as easy to do two if I do one. So he was on my doorstep yesterday morning with two 12-pounders.

Of course, he’s nekkid as a jaybird in the bathtub, but there he is smiling, Janis. It has happened, and it lasted until he was ordered out of said tub by his great-grandmother, who’s probably had enough of grinning jackanapes at this point.

This is going to make some awesome first-girlfriend fodder somewhere down the line. He best hope his mama decides to stay up north and I decide to stay down south.

I, Cringely . The Pulpit . Antisocial | PBS

Do you remember Citizens’ Band radio? Though established by the Federal Communications Commission in the 1950s, CB radio didn’t become an overnight sensation until the 1970s when Moore’s Law brought down the cost of radios to where it was economically viable to buy them solely for the purpose of breaking speed-limit laws.

I adore Robert Cringely, and I have many of his articles archive, but this is quite likely the worst stretch of the so-called Moore’s Law that I’ve ever read. Ever. I’m guessing here, and I won’t bother to check it out, but I’m pretty sure Texas Instruments had only barely figured out what a transistor was, and how to use it in calculators, when the CB radio craze hit the nation. IOW, Moore’s Law does not expand to fit all of human technological progress since the stone ax.

I’ve only read the first paragraph, and it makes me shriek in pain, but I’m going to read the rest, because he’s absolutely correct. The difference is that no one was stupid enough to give Cobra $250MM dollars in the seventies for ear canals, the equivalent of 21st century eyeballs. That’s $250,000,000 down the drain that will be spent on diddly-fucking-squat improving the lives of Americans, or the rest of the schmucks wasting oxygen on this good earth.

My God, I love capitalism, that that kind of money can just go up in a puff of smoke and not even be noticed. You kids wanting to elect that Obama dude need to take heed…no one is going to fund your spray-paint-cartoonist self-esteem collaborative when all that cash is going to universal health care. Henry Ford sure as hell didn’t expect free prescriptions or parental maternity leave, I can promise you that. Hell, no, there was work to be done. Yet, everyone today wants to piss it all away so they don’t have to pay for Bandaids and flu shots. Morons. Completely and utterly unaware of natural law. TAANSTAFL, pimps & bitches. Know it, love it, use it.

Genius Pull Quotes (learned that phrase from all those reporters:

Social networking has a lot of problems as both a business and a cultural phenomenon. To start with there is generally no true business model.

How many groups do you have to join, how many causes do you have to support, how many silly applications do you have to run until you come to realize that you are being included TO DEATH?

It’s not that I don’t see value to social networks, it’s that I generally don’t see ENOUGH value.

“Breaker Port 80! Do you have your ears on?”

I said all of this when MySpace hit the scene, and I reiterated it when Facebook turned into what I knew would be a 60 Minutes fluffer, but who cares about that? I’m seriously ancient, so what do I know? Regardless, we’re not so far into 3rd-level living that we can all sit around and IM lolcatz garbage to each other and expect to get paid for it. Something, somewhere, has to be produced that someone, somewhere is willing to pay for. It’s either a car, or a house, or something, but an app for Facebook or the iPhone? Well, try this on for size…it’s good shit, but there are a billion Red Chinese who know C++, and if you think you’re going to feed the bulldog on it, I’m betting that you can’t for very long. You’re going to get disintermediated, hell, atomized, by super-cheap brainpower.

I got tickets almost 7 weeks ago to go see Ryan Bingham open up for Joe Ely at Gruene Hall tomorrow night. I’m so tired, and I’ve got so much work to do, that I don’t even know if I can gin up the enthusiasm. Maybe I’ll just go for the Bingham part, since I’ve seen Joe about 100 times. I mean no disrespect to Joe or his band by that, either…they’re in my Top Five of good live acts.

I’m just beat…put about 800 miles on mi troca this week, and that driving shit will wear you out. It was also 30 hours away from TFG Labs, which is hard to carve out these days.

Covered up in grandkids.

You don’t know disk about storage failures | The Register

Over a period of 44 months, the group analyzed storage logs of about 39,000 commercially deployed storage systems. They estimate the systems in total were composed of about 1,800,000 disks hosted in about 155,000 storage shelf enclosures. The researchers examined near-line (backup) disks, low-end, mid-range, and high-end hardware.

While the findings do show disk failures contribute to 20-55 per cent of storage subsystem failures, other components such as physical interconnects (broken wires, shelf enclosure power outages, HBA failures, etc) and protocol stacks (software bugs and compatibility issues) also account for a significant percentage of problems.

So, if you got up with the chickens and couldn’t get your TFG fix earlier, that’s why. Something broke.

44 months to determine that something broke, most of the time. Well, when you can buy 1 terabyte for $500, and it used to cost $50,000 (hell, $5MM not so long ago), you’re going to get that. Me, I blame the Euro ROHS garbage for forcing everyone away from lead solder. That’s already a problem, and it’s only going to get worse as we get more connected. But that’s so geeky it makes even my eyelids droop.

NB: Man, I don’t know what’s going on with this idiot box. I thought it was fixed when I left for Corpus Christi this morning. Not like anyone noticed…not one single email telling me “hey, your stupid site’s down!” Therefore, extrapolating even further, my initial sense of relief at seeing the entire web server wiped clean was the correct one. Always go with your gut.

Robby Gordon wins appeal:

However, the Commission believes that the facts presented during the hearing represented an extraordinary and unusual set of circumstances. While this does not excuse the infraction, the National Stock Car Racing Commission has decided to reinstate the car owner and driver championship points, lift the suspension, and increase the fine. For the crew chief, Frank Kerr, the penalty is increased to $150,000 and he remains on probation through Dec. 31, 2008.

That’s (mildly) surprisingly sane. Though how the crew chief is supposed to know the decals are wrong when all the parts numbers match is beyond me. But Gordon gets his points and his crew chief back.

For a good look at why I’m a Robby Gordon fan, read this: Robby Gordon, NASCAR’s lone wolf, racing on his own terms Last driver-owner, last one-car team, last independent…and even that independence is threatened, since he’s still got to tie up in a partnership with another garage to race that car. Anyway, I like what the guy represents to NASCAR, and I wish there were more like him. No slam against the Hendricks and Roushes, they do good work, but Gordon is a throw-back to the roots of the sport.

This is just hilarious, as long as you’re not a bank-robbing hostage-taking dopehead who wants a motorcycle for a getaway, covered by live teevee:

Let off the brake a little late there, eh, Sergio? Go ahead and take the rest of the night off…we’ll handle the paperwork for you.

More from Ace…

Snake vs. rabbit:

Click if only just for the laughing yokel, whom I sound just like, except with more twang.

Via Ace…

Didn’t we hear about how horrific and undemocatic and disengaged this kind of thing was for the last eight years?

All traveling campaigns have a bubble-like quality, but Obama seems unusually insulated. One moment of absurdity came Tuesday, when reporters on the press bus were asked to dial into a conference call in which Obama announced a congressman’s endorsement—even though the candidate was nearby and just as easily could have delivered the news in person to the bus captives. Obama answered a few questions, but reporters are generally placed on mute after they speak so there can be no follow-up. (Clinton held a news conference the same morning.)

That afternoon, as the candidate was working his way through a raucous crowd at Linder University in Greenwood, New York Times reporter Jeff Zeleny shouted a question about whether Obama was allowing Bill Clinton to get inside his head.
“Don’t try a cheap stunt like that. You’re better than that,” Obama told him with a smile. He finally suggested that “the other side must be rattled if they’re continually saying false things about us,” before walking away. What creates such awkwardness are long days when reporters have only seconds to bellow a question.

When Obama decided to do a round of interviews on the next day’s morning shows, not only did the campaign fail to notify the traveling correspondents the evening before, but a press aide insisted when asked about the rumor that he knew of no such plans.

It’s going to be fun watching Our Progressive Betters (OPBs, from here on out) try to decide whether it’s easier to spin themselves into a tighter wad of panties about press-room manipulation, or unwind into a fluttering of cheap Changehope-brand of the same old Chi-town party-machine politics. My guess is tighter, since they’re poli-geeks of the highest order, and wholly invested in Obamessiah.

And no, if you’re wondering, I couldn’t care less about snubbed reporters. They built this dude, the Tan Man, up into a saviour, and millions have bought it. They all get what they get, no more & no less.

The Danes used this picture:

The whole story:

Dumbass wanders around, plants himself on the front steps, yaks away on a cell-phone. Memaw watches a while, and when he doesn’t leave, goes out the garage door to keep a closer eye on him. With Sam Colt’s equalizer, of course. I would hope my dear mother would do the same. I know I probably would be a bit uptight if some dipstick I’d never seen before wandered onto my porch and stood there squawking away in a foreign language, and I’ve probably got 20 years on Memaw.

Classic bit of Euro-pussy whimpering, too:

“I will show the photos to my wife and children,” Svensson told me. “They thought I was on a safe trip.”

He’s probably safer in that lady’s front yard than anywhere else he’s been in America. She’da probably made him a glass of tea if he hadn’t been so frightened.

Via Ravenwood…

Good ol’ CNN - “near President Bush’s ranch.” I guess they mean “near” as in, in the same county. I doubt this guy wandered 100 acres away to the nearest ranchette subdivision. I bet those Crawford people are tired of these shmucks, too, no matter how much money they’re making.