Waspicide

My anti-wasp campaign has expanded. Just days ago, I still considered the possibility of living in harmony. Then the ones that load up on water at the dog dish just outside my back door started getting aggressive, bouncing off my forehead whenever I stepped outside, surrounding me in an angry buzz. Not a friendly lot. Tired of contaminating my yard with poison, I attacked this group with a fly swatter, committing waspicide left and right. Jennie called me crazy, but it was actually quite cathartic. I had no idea how much I hated the little buggers, and now we have an impressive wasp graveyard all along the back steps and so far no wasps buzzing me today. In all, a much better balance. Hopefully I did not kill all of them, but rather convinced them to use the pond at the back of the yard to get their water from.

What else? I had a great ride this morning on my bike, although I was fairly responsible. I only hit 60 once or twice in a 45 zone. If I weren’t just keeping up with the flow of traffic, I might’ve felt guilty.

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Stung Again

The good reverend Oliphant is enjoying a Pete’s Wicked Strawberry Blonde and basking in the glory of having defeated the evil forces of Waspdom. After the little buggers took up residence in my pool cover reel and decided to launch attacks on me as I uncovered the pool, I gave up my ridiculous “no kill wasps” ideals and counter-attacked with a can of Raid. Sure, I’ve just turned my pool cover reel into a toxic stew and done my part to destroy the environment, but at least I don’t have to put up with bites and stings from that particular group of nasties whilst I uncover the pool. So, anyone need a minister to perform a marriage ceremony? I’m pretty sure my lack of belief in God shouldn’t have too much effect on my new credentials. If so, I’m willing to incorporate the Church of Whatever.

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Potato Wine

When most people think Idaho, they think potato. Or skinheads. Either way, it’s a spud. Up here in the northern tip of Idaho, it’s the huckleberry. Or, once again, the skinhead. Wanting to expand our Idaho experience, we’ve been trying out the local wines, which are made from neither the potato nor the skinhead, and only occasionally include huckleberries. Our favorite, based on their ice wine, has been Ste. Chapelle’s.

This weekend, I decided to expand our tastings of Ste. Chapelle’s and purchased several bottles of Chardonnay, Souvignon Blanc, Riesling, Dry Riesling, Soft Chenin Blanc and a few others that I do not remember and for which I am too lazy to trudge down to the basement and check the labels. So far, we have tried two of these delightful wines, the Chardonnay and the Sauvignon Blanc. They have quite similar tastes, that is to say, almost none at all, instead relying on the bite of alcohol to provide the flavor. Well, to be honest, there is a bit of flavor which comes from the bouquet, so what you end up with is weak battery acid with a hint of rotting fruit. Not exactly a user-friendly wine in either case. Tomorrow I think we’ll try the Rieslings, and if those are similarly uninspiring, it will be time to play the wine snob and dump the rest of the stuff down the drain. Please, oh please, don’t disappoint us, my sweet Rieslings!

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Stung

As a child, I had a particularly memorable and unpleasant encounter with yellowjackets. Being a hippie-child, I was running around naked at the time, and the bites and stings I suffered would not have occurred were I dressed. Suffice it to say, I have a particularly strong aversion to yellowjackets, or wasps of any kind, actually.

I am older now and trying to maintain a pesticide-free yard and garden. Because of this, my old enemies are now my allies. To most, a wasp is a pest, but to those of us wishing to control garden-munching pests without the use of toxins, they are invaluable. As such, other than the ones right against the house or in doorways, I’ve stopped destroying the paper wasp nests that pop up all over my property. Hopefully, they’ll show me the same consideration and not try to bite or sting me anywhere unmentionable as they hunt for food.

I still haven’t forgiven the yellowjackets of the world, but at least I no longer go out of my way to hunt them down and destroy them. And thanks to Michael Vick, I no longer consider them to be the creatures least deserving to live on the face of the earth. Don’t worry, Michael, you’re still better by several orders of magnitude than, Bushboy, Big Dick and pretty much anyone associated with our current administration.

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Vacation

In case anyone is interested, I am on vacation this week. Yesterday I cruised around on my motorcycle for a while, tossed the kids around in the pool, and watered shrubbery. Today I am building a platform for the swamp cooler and watering shrubbery before I cruise around on my motorcycle for a while and toss the kids around in the pool. Oh, and reading some fun sites that I really need to add to my blogroll: 43rd State Blues, Trapped by the Mormons, Ishmail, Molly The Mormon and The Mormon Curtain. And finally, just because it has such an awesome headline: Huffington.

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Free Libby

Oh good, our lying sack-of-shite President has decided once again to prove he and his buddies aren’t subject to the same laws as us commoners. And a big Fuck You to you too, Georgie! There really is no point in being civil when discussing these bastards any more. If there is a God, the fair trade would be for a certain someone’s pacemaker to fatally short-circuit. That, and for the next pretzel to win. Please, please please let this presidency end with a war crimes tribunal! Okay, enough ranting. Fuckers.

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Effing Nature

I’m losing the battle. My front yard, beautifully manicured as it was, is now infested. There are tall weeds with sharp pokies. Short weeds with sharp pokies. Stinky weeds. Yellow weeds. Viney weeds. Flowering weeds. Pink weeds. All just plain evil weeds. I don’t think I can keep up; it’s either work or weed, and I need the money from working. Fucking nature. Throw a couple of cinder blocks and a Camaro out there, and you wouldn’t even notice that I don’t live in a broken-down trailer. Add a broken chest freezer and it’s Anywhere, Idaho, circa 1987. I don’t know how much longer my lawn can stay weedicide-free. I can only pull so many weeds before the defeat creeps in.

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Plastic To Oil

I’m sure there’s a downside, but I want one of these for my local recycling center. Since I don’t get trash pickup service, I haul all of my garbage and recycling to the local waste station. About half of what I see tossed out there is plastic, so assuming you could actually power the equipment there with this stuff, it should pay for itself in short order.

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You’ll Go Blind Doing That

Getting new glasses is an adventure for me. A poopy adventure, but an adventure nonetheless. Due to my picky nature and my astigmatism, I am very particular about my glasses. New lenses take me weeks to get used to, and even then I’m always pretty sure that my last prescription was better. There’s axis, rotation and other words to deal with. By the time I replace, my old frames are bent to hell and I’ve grown accustomed to everything looking wrong. It’s a whole new hell getting back to right.

So I picked up my new glasses yesterday. Top of the line jobbies, these:` Rimless flexy frames to withstand being used as a monkey gym by my monkeys, high-impact polycarbonate lenses in case I’m ever shot in the face by a shotgun or hit my a flying cow, and all the latest and greatest coatings and lens treatments. I’ve got an anti-reflective coating to make driving at night or watching internet porn, er, working in front of the computer all day less fatiguing for my eyes. I’ve got what they call a hydrophopic coating (because who doesn’t want rabid lenses) to repel water and oil. By virtue of the lens material itself, I’ve got UV protection, which will allow for a more responsible eyeball tanning, cancer-free. And finally, at the suggestion of the optician, and for a mere $7, I have polished edges.

Polished edges are great! To minimize the appearance of your lens edges, the natural matte finish you get normally is ground off and polished. The Idea, I gather, is to make it so people don’t see the edges of your lenses and therefore can’t tell that you are wearing glasses. Considering the enlarged bridge, and the fact that there are still little metal bits to stick behind one’s ears, I don’t think that trick is going to work. What, everyone looking at me is going to think “Hey, you’ve got a bit of metal floating above your nose and weird metal bits sticking out from behind your ears, but I can’t see the lens edges, so you must not be wearing glasses?” Umm, yeah, sorry but it doesn’t work that way. The whole light reflecting off the lenses thing and bits of dust and fingerprints floating in front of my eyes are a pretty good giveaway, for starters.

Anyway, back to the polished edges. Instead of a dull, refractive surface that scatters the light nicely, I now have a thin, curved magnifying area that reflects every stray bit of light from the edges directly into my eyes, blinding me in all but the darkest room. Great idea, that. “Yes please, could you make my lenses non-reflective everywhere EXCEPT the edges, which I want customized to direct as much bright, stray, absolutely useless to me light directly into my corneas? I want to be completely blind by next Tuesday, thank you.” The good news is that it was only an additional $7 U.S. to pay for blindness. Since my optician refuses to fix it, I plan on sanding the buggers down this weekend (my lens edges, not the optician).

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Just Asking

Cuba . . .
“Washington rebuffed the offer for talks, saying it would deal with Raul Castro’s government only when it showed a clear commitment to a peaceful transition to democracy.” Umm, yeah. So when do the sanctions and embargoes against Saudi Arabia and Pakistan begin?

Above the Law . . .
Cheney isn’t part of the legislative branch, nor is he part of the judicial branch. Since he is now denying that he is part of the executive branch, does that mean we can replace him? Sounds to me like he has abdicated his position.

Everybody loves singing toilets! . . .
Thank you, Maike, for pointing me towards Sweet Juniper!

(and apologies to Sweet Juniper for including you in a post about Cuba and Cheney)

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