One thing I like about the cheaper hotels out here on the road : foam pillows. None of those mushy, useless feather pillows that never fail to give me a crick in my neck.

The Naked Bootleg:

The appointment bypasses the U.S. Senate where Democrats refused to allow a vote on the nomination. The Constitution allows the president to fill vacancies when the Senate is in recess. Bolton’s appointment lasts until a new Congress convenes in January 2007.

I can’t wait to see what kind of havoc is wreaked in the halls of the sainted UN. I have a soft spot in my heart for loose cannons, especially in an organization that rivals the US Congress for pompous blowhardiness, and particularly a loose cannon with the ideas that Bolton has. Should be a fun 17 months if you UN watching is a hobby of yours (it ain’t one of mine.) Should be a fun 17 months if domestic gasbag watching is a hobby of yours (that one just makes me alternate between laughing and crying…and no small self-recognition.)

“I can only hope they’ll wake up and see the padding on the wall.”
- Swen Swenson

So, if you’re in North or Central Texas, and you’re hankering to get your kayak on, go see my man, Eric.

And you can keep your comments about the 1997 tabled-up design and Drunken Jackass-Photoshop to yourself, thankyouverymuch.

Who knew this was a question that plagued?

How much gas does a cow emit? [snip]

But before he explains how it works, Mitloehner wants one thing to be clear. “We’re not talking about flatulence,” he says. He emphasizes the point because his research has been dismissed as “fart science,” a label he says doesn’t do justice to the seriousness of his work.

OK, then…it’s “fart and burp science”, Dr. Touchy. Either that, or we’re going to learn quickly that cows are radiating gasses through their skin, and layman that I am, I would think that someone would have noticed that before now. And besides, what the heck’s wrong with fart science? It is, after all, plaguing us.*

Thanks, Mr. Bennett, for the Cow Post of the Week.

* Maybe that’s a new post hook for the lamest blogger in the universe — “questions that plague” something or somebody. Seems there’s always one somewhere, and we need to keep up with them.

Heard while waiting on hold to clear up a bank problem: “Thank you for holding. Your current estimated wait time is greater than five minutes.”

Note that there is no indication how much greater. Assholes. This has been going on for 10 minutes, too.

As advised by Andrea, I clicked over to a movie blog so I can read Jim Treacher-mentary about any/everything, and found a poker entry:

You know, I’d like to see Estella take on Jennifer Tilly. And then they could play poker.

Quite possibly the last thing I expected on a Treacher-written blog funded by a movie producer.

What next? InstantMan on PLO/8? DanM talking constitutional law? The triumphant return of the leader of the East Coast TFG Posse, Ken Goldstein? Best idea…Francis busting down razz.

See Ian Wood’s ad about the dangers of weight training. And buy a Neon George shirt by way of thanks. I would, but there’s no XXL. Keeping the fatties down, as usual…

When I was reading the BaloneyMachine this week, I was cracking up with cynical laughter at the mediots involved in the not-even-a-story about a cable teevee show. I was briefly tempted to launch into yet another rant at the boneheadedness of the publicity sluts, but I was rapidly bored, as in, after 30 seconds of thought. Through the legal process of extreme rendition, I’ll let Big Dick Bennett eviscerate these nano-intellects:

Bernie Goldberg, author of 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America : (and Al Franken Is #37) was ambushed on the Donnie Deutsch show Wednesday. He was invited on the show to discuss his best-selling book (it’s number two on Amazon, behind Harry Potter), and was told there would be a panel of people on both sides of the issue (the culture war), and that the host is a “purple-stater” with no strong partisan views. So many lies, it’s hard to know where to start.

And he answers one of the main questions I had — who in the hell is Donny Deutsch, and why should anyone give a damn? Answer: a nobody, and they shouldn’t.

The hilarious part of Jarvis’ jacked-up goofballness is where he describes Goldberg’s book as a one-way cable teevee shoutfest, then announces that he’s going on a one-way cable teevee shoutfest and encourages us to watch the one-way cable teevee shoutfest that he’s going to be on. And, being in the business of selling more BaloneyMachine, there’s the obligatory response post to critics. No BolognaMachine non-story about Jeff would be complete without a licking link for Jim Bob Wolcott, either.*

* Digression: I’ll likely never forgive Jeffro for exposing me to that effete, sociopathic snot. I could have lived my entire life quite happily without knowing that such a person existed, much less prospered, outside the pages of fiction.

You seriously have to hand it to Jarvis — there’s not a harder-working self-promoter in the bloggiverse. He’s a shining city on the hill for all the world’s money-hungry bloggers. Of course, it helps if you start off as a lifelong media insider with connections up and down both coasts.

Massive Shark Caught Off Vineyard
Contestant Misses Deadline By 6 Minutes

Check out the slide show…spooky-wooky. And The Big Reason you will never find me contemplating the potential joys of scuba diving.

Found at Galley Slave, who makes the obvious (but still hilarious!) joke, via Craig Henry.

Since I’ve lately revealed that I have zero emotional investment in Harry Potter, I should go ahead and tell you that I’ve never seen that dumbass Willie Wonka movie, either, and therefore could care less about a new version of it. Say “oompa-loompa” around me, and I’ll ask if you need the Heimlich.

Now, I did cry during Ol’ Yeller. And I still believe Shane should have stuck around, at least for a little while, just to see how things worked out.

How lame do you have to be to only remember two picture shows from your youth? I still get antsy with large flocks of birds, but I have a shotgun now, and I could take some of those sumbitching crows with me on the way to Hell.

The $2000, 5 year-old compressor on the downstairs AC has gone out. It’s currently 86° inside the house. As a cherry on top, I spent $70 on a 2-pole 50amp Stab-Lok breaker on the way-off chance that it was the problem. Nope.

I’m officially looking for a bridge…I can’t take it any longer.

• Viz the never-ending clarion call for apologies:

Nevertheless, we live in such a craven, soft, moist and testosterone-lite society that it would be wise to always be apologizing for something you either have said or may say. In America these days we are a bunch of sorry sons-of-bitches — male or female — and we’d best be saying we’re sorry all the time.

• Oh, great — a Nick Denton gambling “blog“.

No comments, no blogroll…of course. Sponsors out the wazoo…of course. Wonkette-level dullish snark that reads like it’s cranked out by an AI…of course. Makes me gut churn that Denton didn’t pluck out a BG or a Mean Gene to do this. Must tip the ol’ chapeau for linking up my little web buddies with the ♠.

• The Texas AG has shown a modicum of sentience:

“Texas Hold ‘Em” poker tournaments are legal in Texas as long as players don’t risk money for a prize.
[...]
However, Abbott’s opinion said public tournaments that don’t require a “buy in” or don’t provide prizes — even in bars — don’t technically constitute gambling.

This doesn’t mean diddly in the long run…the Baptists will still moan, usually from behind a dauber and a 6-pack of bingo cards. But at least it clears up all those high-dollar, high-roller charity games, I think. Still, no relief for the common man. Here, let me help you up…I know that’s a shocker.

• After my brief flirtation with following the professional MLB hometown 9, they got swept by the Anaheim Angels, and they lost again to the Disastros last night. So, that’s like 0-for-a-week. Yeehaw. Oh, and can we please give up the fiction that interleague play is interesting?

• Francis Poretto is hopping mad about the Supremes shattering the Constitution:

It’s “our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor” time, friends.

Come and take it, statist bastards. Just try.

I’m still seeing red my own self. America is morphing into The State, and I absolutely hate that. But the morphing has been going on for decades, and it will continue, I think. Too many people want a soft, cozy life full of government cheese, and they’re perfectly happy to do what they’re told as long as the idiot box keeps running. I told Francis that I’m looking for a bolt-hole: an escape hatch, someplace that I can do my thing without these toads hanging ever more albatrosses around my neck. Well, the facts is there ain’t one. This here is it. So, in that sense, I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with FWP. Molon labe, mofos.

• Unquestionably, hands-down, the best Deep Throat deconstruction available. The results aren’t pretty, not for the newsies or for their clay-footed god.

• Dr. Pauly almost runs over Doyle Brunson in the parking lot at the Rio.

• It’s always shocking when a blogger switches to a new template. It’s like going over to your best friend’s house and finding him in a jumpsuit or wearing a tiara. Scotty has linked up this PD’s story of her (?) first murder trial, which is pretty good. Not least for this quote:

If someone tells you all night they have a gun, and then threaten to kill you, I don’t think you have to actually wait to see the gun before you defend yourself with deadly force.

It’s the “all night” part that catches my eye. Like my pal Otis says, “We don’t catch them because we’re smart…we catch them because they’re stupid.” So, yeah…might want to take your boozin’ and snortin’ party elsewhere when the gun-talk starts. Or be a little more picky about your boozin’ and snortin’ buds.

Over and out…adios, mofo.

“Try as I may, Governor, I’m not going to wait that long,” Gov. Perry said. “Adios, Mofo.”
- Texas Gov. Rick Perry, to a mediot, over an (unrealized) open mic

I had only barely heard this on the radio before I went to Paradise, and had forgotten it. Pretty dang funny audio, as I recall. I know we’re supposed to be all happy-happy and love each other and encourage a spirt of bipartisan hand-in-hand cooperation and it’s probably not the smartest thing a governor ever said, but this is one of my failings — I love a man (or lady) whipping on the press. I wish I could find the audio — it’s so smarmily frat-boy evil. heh heh

Reminded by Banjo, who also asks the rhetorical question “[...] why the poker craze? Couldn’t it have been Scrabble?” I give a suitably rhetorical (bull-poop) answer. The real answer is — ain’t nobody playing Scrabble for money that I know of. You think poker is big, wait until they unleash Scrabble-for-Dough. 150,000,000 liberal arts majors will be on that so fast, the interwebs will break.

Oh, and good closing lines: Don’t forget to feed Tina, & Adios, mofo…*

* Not you, Banjo.

With apologies to Juan Gato…

Why Congress Should Repeal the Wright Amendment, #2,409

On-airport parking at DFW has gone from craptastic-but-usable, to average-and-useful, to Holy Effin’ S—! Get Me Out of Here! in four months. The lots are always full, the lines are ¼- to ½-mile and 30 minutes long, the shuttles are unreliable, car-to-gate and gate-to-car times are measurable with a sundial, and best of all, it took five (5) human interactions to park my vehicle. Five. Humans. That doesn’t count the shuttle driver who grabs my little roller-bag so he can con me out of a buck for “luggage handling.” In order, the answers to the sub-literals questions are:

1. Yes, I know what gate I’m leaving from.
2. No, I don’t want any free bottled water.
3. I can stick my ticket into the reader by myself.
4. Leaving from Terminal A.
5. Leaving from Terminal A. (yes, again, 100 ft. from the last guy, and they’re both standing next to signs that say “TERMINAL A PARKING –>” in big red letters.

Contrast this to Love Field where I wheel in, grab my parking ticket, drive to my spot, walk to TSA (a whole ‘nother rant) in about 5 minutes. Idiocy abounds…unadulterated pull-you-hair-out idiocy — and I’m FUNDING IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LA is a Weird Place

I found this spooky carved green apple on a conveyor belt outside of the American Airlines terminal at LAX. Southern California is paradise, weather-wise, and I’d live in Manhattan Beach if I was rich as Scrooge McDuck, but seriously — yall are just crazier than hell. I think that the weather causes chemical imbalances in the natives because it’s just so perfect. Even I was ready, after only 24 hours there, to buy some Birkenstocks and complain about tobacco products and corporate greed.