We’ve got a killer lake here, judging from the headlines: “Deaths spur ramp review: Nine have drowned since 1995.” It’s sad when innocent folks are struck down in the prime of their lives, brought low by a vicious, killer lake. It is even sadder when you read further and discover that the lake is innocent: “a 1997 Ford Expedition was driven down the ramp and came to rest in 12 feet of water more than 100 feet from shore.” Considering that the speed limit there is 5 m.p.h, there are large “Do Not Enter” signs, one-way arrows, flashing lights, a barricade, a “Road Ends” sign and a “Boat Ramp” sign, it seems somewhat improbable that the genius behind the wheel in this case could be considered innocent. How fast exactly do you need to go to hydroplane 100 feet? I’m guessing it is something over 5 m.p.h.. While the mayor of Hayden tries to figure out how to prevent another tragedy like this, he should consider that some people are just too stupid too live. And on that note, good evening to all.

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Is it just me, or are people getting larger? As should be obvious by now, I’ve been traveling a bit for work lately, which involves a lot of time flying on United and Alaska. United is great because I am a Mileage Plus member and generally get bumped up into business or first class. Alaska, while usually less of a hassle (i.e. they usually don’t leave me stranded in Chicago), sticks me in coach since I am too cheap to pay for the grown-up sized seats. I understand that coach seating is designed for patrons under 5′ 3″ and 115 pounds or less. I also understand that the comfort design for most coach seating was based on the works of the Marquis de Sade and input from Tough Love and other BDSM organizations. That said, why do I always get seated here in the back of the bus, er plane, next to a man-and-a-half? Shouldn’t there be some effort on the part of the airline to actually match passengers to tickets? If you take up more than one seat, shouldn’t you be required to buy two tickets?

I’m sorry if I offend anyone (oh hell, actually, I am not), but if you take up more than 1/4 of the seat next to you, either pay for it or get off the plane. I don’t want to spend the entire flight trying to keep from being pushed into the aisle (note to self: Next time a two-seater sits next to me, make sure to take the window seat. That way I can use the bulkhead to push back. With luck, I can launch the guy out and under the beverage cart, rendering him unconscious for the rest of the flight, and much more amenable to being stuffed into the toilet).

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Zacarias Moussaoui and the American judicial system: A perfect match. He wants martyrdom, we want a scapegoat. Sure, he seems a bit nutty, but he hates us, we hate him, and something has to be done to atone for the incredible failures of everyone from the President to the local parks and rec department (admittedly, I am not sure what the parks and rec department could have done to stop the 9/11 hijackers, but since the FBI and CIA apparently were on donut break from the start of Bush’s presidency until about 9/14, why not share the blame?). Ultimately, his execution (assuming the case continues as it has so far) will be less about justice than about making the families of victims feel better, about presenting the appearance of having actually done something to avenge those deaths.

Will this have even the slightest impact on terrorism? Not likely. By most accounts, Moussaoui was the dim cousin, a hanger-on to the “cool terrorists club”. He was either too stupid or too nutty to be allowed to join the real terrorists, but damn, the kid had enthusiasm! To even consider that he would be a part of a significantl terrorist plot demonstrates the desperation our administration feels to show that we are doing something right in our war on terrorism. A major argument against him is that he could have warned us about 9/11. That is true, he could have warned us. Judging from the FBI’s pre-9/11 actions, however, it is fairly unlikely that anyone would have actually listened to him.

Do I feel he should die? Not really. In his twisted little world, death at our hands means martyrdom, which means that his life (or at least the hatred he spewed during it and his death) had some sort of meaning. It’s a long shot, but he might actually be considered a hero to other wanna-be terrorists in a few years if we grant him his wish for martryrdom. On the other hand, leaving him alive, just another thug-slash-nutcase in our penal system, means that he will fade into obscurity as he deserves.

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Two weeks in Secaucus. Ick. I’m back, hopefully willing to get off my lazy butt and post something. Maybe not. Secaucus meant living in a mall. Interesting in a way, but mall food gets old real fast when you have it three meals a day. I did get to see some wildlife while there: A bunch of geese and swans were braving the various bits of crud to cruise the wetlands, and the biggest damn rat I’ve ever seen was sunning himself last Thursday by the roadside. Didn’t seem that bothered by my walking by. Considering his advanced case of the uglies, I assume he figured nothing’d try to eat him.

So, what else before I go? Oh yeah, I can’t log in to my site as administrator. Apparently, my site (or more precisely, the server it’s on), got worms. Now my admin password is hosed. Good thing I don’t need to do anything admin-ish at the moment. Since I am supposed to be hosted on a Linux box, I assume some admin at the ISP did something really stupid. Okay, back to work, and maybe later I’ll work on posting something that is actually readable. In the meantime, a word from our president (and perhaps a very good insight into how things have gotten so screwed up in Afghanistan and Iraq):

“I’m also not very analytical. You know, I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about myself, about why I do things.”
— George W. Bush, June 4, 2003.

Good to know our national destiny is in the hands of the best and the brightest . . .

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Ooookay. So, coming back from vacation wasn’t such a brilliant move after all. Had I the resources, those two weeks would have given me a good running start for a life of freedom. Turns out, Cisco’s looming like a bad, um, looming thing? and NBA’s demanding some results. So, off to Suckass, NJ again to help with the NBA and hide from Cisco. Too bad I have no idea wtf I’m supposed to be doing with the NBA. I can’t jump, can’t shoot, and sure as hell don’t have a clue as to what’s wrong with their logging systems. Oh well, I guess it’s Uno’s and Houlihan’s for a week and the delights of the saggy Holiday Inn mattress. At least I get to catch up on Futurama. And to Erna, I got your email and yes, I’ll write, as soon as I get back from Secaucus (I knew I’d get the spelling right one of these times!). I think the biggest problem the NBA is having is that they’ve located nba.com in Secaucus.

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Two weeks of vacation under my belt and it’s time to get crackin’. So, what am I doing? Avoiding my work inbox and hoping nobody calls. Probably not the best strategy. I’ll give it another two minutes, then get to work.

A change came over me this weekend. Like the swallows returning to San Juan and the whores to Sprague Ave., I felt the sudden onset of Spring. The signs are subtle, but if you know what to look for, it is obvious. First, there’s the onslaught of “SPRING IS HERE!” columns in the local newspapers. For someone with my finely trained eyes and keen intellect, I know to interpret that as meaning that spring is here. Second, there are all the birds in the backyard, strutting and bustling about in orgiastic enthusiasm, trying to simultaneously get a little something while not getting eaten by the hawks that like to hang out in the snag on the west property line. Third, there’s the subtle shift in light and temperature. It is no longer friggin’ cold and overcast. It is now sunny and, damn, with that wind chill, I guess it’s still friggin’ cold, but at least it isn’t overcast. So, Spring is here, blowing in under Winter’s skirts for a good goose. And with that, it’s time to get to work. Maybe later I’ll ramble on a bit about vacation, the broken-jawed dog and Secaucus. And yes, I realize there was no ode in all that. Hasta.

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We had to put our old dog to sleep today. Not the most fun to be had on a Tuesday morning, but it beats continuing to watch her fade away. She couldn’t stand, couldn’t walk, had to be placed in front of her food bowl to eat and had no control over her bowels. The only thing keeping her alive was the snow and frozen ground. With the latest thaw, we were finally able to dig a grave. About time, too. I don’t know that she was suffering, since there really didn’t seem to be anything left of her mentally, just a body that refused to die while the eyes went blank and various functions slowly shut down.

Tonight we’ll hold a funeral for her, say the final goodbyes and try to remember as she used to be. We miss you, Coho!

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In the sixties, we began the war on poverty. In the seventies, we began the war on poverty. With little Bush, we now have the war on terrorism.

Prior to the reign of our current president, we seemed to have had some success with the war on poverty, although drugs are kicking our collective ass. Per the Drug War Clock, we spent about $600 per second in 2003, and it has only gone up since then. And what do we have to show for it? Other than an increase in incarcerated non-violent felons, not much.

So, where do we stand in the war on terrorism? Or, if you prefer the language of our Clueless Leader, the war on terror (gotta keep those night-sweats at bay, or the terrorists have won!). We temporarily removed the Taliban from power in Afghanistan and destabilized that nation. This might have been a good thing, or at least acceptable, since the Taliban-led government of Afghanistan sheltered and supported Al-Qaeda. We also invaded and destabilized Iraq under the guise of the war on terror/terrorism. This is arguably not such a good thing, as Iraq had no ties to Al-Qaeda, was not considered a supporter of anti-American terrorism, and involved a preemptive war (internationally, not generally considered a smart move or the right thing from a moral standpoint). We’ve also developed secret prisons throughout the world, become highly involved in torture, and as long as they aren’t Americans, we seem very unconcerned about whether those we kill are innocent civilians or terrorists. We have isolated ourselves politically, destroyed any good-will other countries may have had for us after the 9/11 attacks, dramatically increased the terrorist threat levels against us and demonstrated a zeal for wanton cruelty. In other words, we have resorted to terrorism to fight terrorism: We have become the enemy. So, where do we stand in the war on terrorism? Neck deep in our own excrement.

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Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was trying to break away from political commentary, but this is just too funny. Per Drunksfeld, a bunch of guys who are supposed to be sitting in the caves, living in the stone age we’ve bombed them back to, are actually more tech-savvy than anyone the American government can hire:

Rumsfeld also said al-Qaida and other Islamic extremist groups have poisoned the Muslim public’s view of the United States through deft use of the Internet and other modern communications methods that the American government has failed to master.

“Our enemies have skillfully adapted to fighting wars in today’s media age, but for the most part we — our country, our government — has not adapted,” he said.

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It was a chilly 4 degrees fahrenheit when I woke this morning. It had dropped to 2 by the time I got up, ten minutes later. In the words of Penfold, “Cor, chief! I think my nipples just froze to the blanket . . . ” Or Ye Flippin’ Gods!- it’s COLD! Thankfully I didn’t calculate in the wind-chill factor, or I might have been somewhat bothered by it being below 0. I’m a coastal California boy, after all — this cold stuff seems a bit extreme. Or, as I should say, living up to the stereotype: Dude. It’s cold.

Fortunately, it seems that it is too cold to snow, and the winds are doing a great job clearing the latest snowfall from the roads, so it is actually easier to get around today than it was yesterday. I think I want to go to the beach. Little tough to do here though, what with the state of Washington being in the way. Oh if only we could have a nice big quake and drop that bit off into the ocean, giving me a little ocean-front property.

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