It’s a common state, but once again, my desk is a mess. My laptop (and all of its acoutrements) is piled in front of my monitor. Stacked on top of that is the March/April 2004 “Library Technology Reports” which I have yet to finish in preparation for Calamari, my great Internet content filter application (yes, 2 years, and I’ve barely scratched the surface). To the left is a phone, stacked on several Java manuals, which seem to be blending in with old newspapers and various magazines. Just for kicks, the kids have mixed in a few of their books, some broken toys and a stuffed animal. Interspersed with all are random pieces of paer, credit card receipts and screwdrivers. The typical computer desk, right? It’s time to bring in a back-hoe and excavate this thing, if only to allow me to concentrate on more important things, like staying awake for the full day.

If I were sensible, I would take occasional breaks from work and clean this sty rather than blog. Hell, I’d even take breaks from the occasional breaks to sample port to clean this desk, were I sensible. But I am not, so I won’t. Viva la filth!

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I moved to Idaho for several reasons, four seasons being an important one. It is now early January, the snow has long melted away, and I am suffering through 50 degree weather. What the hell happened to my winter? I went south to California for three days and came back to a rainy hell not much different than the Humboldt County weather I had just visited: wet and mushy. Soon I’ll find myself surrounded by ferns, redwoods and mildew. Ewww. Okay, maybe not to the ferns and redwoods, but I could do without the perpetual mildew and damp.

As I chased the puppy barefoot through the backyard this morning, I was reminded of why I like snow: Frozen feces. Instead of the occasional questionable squish underfoot, with snow, there’d be a nice solid puppy pile with no smear to it. Plus, I wouldn’t be tempted to venture out without shoes on. Ew. So, where’s my winter? If this is global warming, then it blows monkey-nuts big-time. Wait, is that monkey-nuts or just plain monkey nuts? Either way, I’m not happy. Not at all.

So, here I am in Idaho, and it looks like we are rapidly melting back into fall, or perhaps spring. That gives me, at best, three seasons. If I wanted that, I could have stayed in Humboldt. Please, dear sky, god or nature, snow again, and snow hard. I want to shovel my driveway, chain my tires, and build snow rats in the front yard.

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The best arguments against “Intelligent Design” are its proponents. Go Dover! Go Georgia! Go Kansas! Go far. Far, far away. I’d post more, but really, this is an embarassment. If we continue this ID debate in our schools and courts, I’d say the terrorists have won. Almost as big a victory as when they got Bush elected. Twice. I’m so depressed, I’m gonna go back down in the basement, curl up under my tinfoil hat and take a nap.

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Tom DeLay is innocent. Social security will be bankrupt (by the year infinity, of course) needs to be overhauled and privatized accounts that provide fewer benefits to the end-user and much greater dividends to the account overseers are the way to go. Intelligent Design is as valid as evolution. The intelligence leading to our instigating a war in Iraq is solid, and even if not, it’s the right thing to do in our crusade for democracy. Arsenic is healthy and should be increased in our waters. No child should be left behind, but there is no need to fund the No Child Left Behind fiasco.  Viva la Republicans!  May you all enjoy a nice big serving of that healthy arsenic you like so much.

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It’s wintertime, dammit! Sure, it’s not officially winter for another eight days, according to the rest of the world, but when the temperature doesn’t top freezing for the entire week, I’m calling it winter, and calendars be damned.

Yesterday I spent my lunch in the hot tub, enjoying an almost halfway decent book and the rare snow flake. The sky, like today, yesterday, and (I’m pretty sure) tomorrow, was hidden by a thick white blanket, not that unlike the ground, which was hidden by a thick white blanket. Sure, one was an inversion layer and the other snow, but I’m not going to let myself get bogged down in the little details — paying attention to details is the sort of fuzzy thinking that sunk our social security overhaul. So what that we refuse to retire at 55 and then live until 150?

Wow, that was a great segue. Into what, you ask? This: Good night, morning or afternoon — I’m going back to work.

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In the words of one cool cat, “It ain’t easy being cheesy.” That said, it’s Monday and I’ve been avoiding this damned thing for a while now. I don’t have any burning causes and I’m not in love with myself enough to make a reasonable blogger. I realize this makes it rough on you, the imaginary reader, but I am sure you will get over it. All I need to do is quit imagining you.

So, another week of freezing fog and snow slowly turning to ice. I’ve left the steps covered to see if I can take out a FedExer or to, but so far they’ve been fleet of foot.

We’ve got a new restaurant in town, a surprisingly good one, actually (the restaurant, not the town . . . not that the town is all that bad, but that isn’t my point, dammit. Oh hell, what was my point? Oh yeah, restaurants). Now would be a good time to demonstrate my eloquent use of language, my scintillating knowledge of gourmet cooking and impeccable knowledge of cutlery. If I ever run across any of that, I’ll go ahead and do a food review. In the meantime, I’ve got code to break. So, as a public service to y’all, or all y’all or whatever it was that my Texas-raised database prof used to say, I think I’ll go back to work now.

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