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And probably Arizona too, that’s most likely where the infection spread from.
A New Mexico lawmaker today introduced a bill that would charge anyone receiving an abortion after being sexually assaulted, or performing one on a woman who was assaulted prior to the resolution of any associated criminal trial, with “tampering with evidence.”
Today is Barack Obama’s second inauguration day. Four years ago, I sat in a McDonald’s watching it online and wrote this. Today, I’m in a bagel shop (or at least I was when I started this), but I’m not watching. I’m not celebrating. And I’m not hopeful.
Those of you who know me may have noticed that I was pretty quiet during the election, not just on the blog, but everywhere. The simple fact is, that while he was orders of magnitude better than Mitt Romney, I simply couldn’t bring myself to support Obama. So I didn’t go out and knock on doors. I didn’t pass on much in the way of political information.
I didn’t even vote.
Here’s the bald simple truth: Obama’s political career should have ended in disgrace today. He shouldn’t have even been the Democratic nominee. His and his administration’s failures in policy and action are too numerous to give but a partial list of here, and range from disappointing and astonishing to comical. But ultimately, my decision was made by his failure to close the Guantanamo detention camp, and his failure to conclusively put and end to the United States’ use of torture, and to prosecute those individuals who committed it and those who ordered it.
I said it wouldn’t be quiet here, and then it was. Because I knew what the next post had to be, and I didn’t want to write it. It’s hard to write something that might cost you friends.
If the singularity ever does occur, it will be a side effect of the Blizzard cinematics team making the tools necessary to one up themselves. Again.
…kicks John Sununu’s ass.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her actually ask questions instead of bob her head while people bullshit, either. It’s so incredibly refreshing. Also sad that it’s all it takes for people to stand up and cheer for modern journalism, but still, nice to see. Maybe I need to start watching CNN’s morning show again before blocking the channel….
So someone once told me that a web page I had made looked like it was “from the 1980’s school of web design.”
“There wasn’t a web in the 80’s,” I said.
“That’s my point.”
OK, it hurt, but looking at the page I had to admit she was right. It wouldn’t have been pulled out of the GeoCities archive for mocking or anything, but there were probably lots of pages that looked like it in there.
Since then, I’d stuck with tinkering with WordPress themes, but after the lovely wife came up with a couple website ideas, I’ve revisited HTML and learned a bit of programming (and then a different bit of programming as I realized the first plan wasn’t the best one, and then more as the technology changed underneath me….) One of the frustrations I’ve run into is that a lot of stuff assumes a level of skill that isn’t quite there yet for me; I’m at that point where I can look at examples and follow along, even spot errors in production code, but when I try to write something from scratch, I stare at the editor screen, with no real idea of where to start. It feels like the difference between being able to read a language, or flip through a phrasebook without too many embarrassing pronunciation errors, and actually being able to speak it. Continue reading
I'm safely on the surface of Mars. GALE CRATER I AM IN YOU!!! #MSL
— Curiosity Rover (@MarsCuriosity) August 6, 2012
— Curiosity Rover (@MarsCuriosity) August 6, 2012
Can’t add anything to that.
My phone beeped. The text message read “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE,” so I knew my brother had gotten his mail.
I had been planning to build a bed for my stepdaughter. I had plans drawn up and everything. Trying to save money, I asked my wife to look for a mattress online. Instead, she found a bed that almost exactly matched my plans, for about what the wood was going to cost me.
So we went to the used furniture store to look at the bed. And sure enough, it was just what we were looking for–a twin bed resting on top of a desk on one end, a set of shelves and drawers on the other. But on one of the shelves, there was something that made me recoil in horror.
They were just sitting there, waiting for me. As they taunted me silently from the shelf, I wondered, were they a warning? A sign from some great horror beneath the waves that the bed was cursed? Or had the ducks placed themselves there deliberately, knowing that I was coming, and that I would be their way out of an eternity gathering dust in a junk shop?
If you’re confused, you should understand that my family has a bit of a history with blue ducks.
My mother, as I recall, got it as a gift at one of those work things where you are obligated to give gifts but don’t really want to spend any money. She promptly regifted it to the family friends we spent New Years Eve with every year, as a joke.
And the next year, to our horror, we got it back.
This went on for some time, until the year we got the Blue Duck Jigsaw puzzle; in an effort to end the back and forth, the other family had taken a hammer to it, and boxed it up. It was a good idea. And really, it probably would have been best if it had died there. For our sanity, if not the story.
Of course, it didn’t. I was in the high school ceramics club, so I found a mold of a duck (in three dimensions this time) and painted it blue and black. (The white specks were beyond my abilities.) It was met with the appropriate horror, both by the teacher in charge of the ceramics club, and the recipients at the holidays, and the pattern of escalation was set. The next year, it was returned to us in a diorama.
Then my brother, in his freshman or sophomore year of college, did the unthinkable. He actually reassembled the Blue Duck Jigsaw Puzzle, and encased it in something near enough to unbreakable. And so that year, when they were expecting to be safely duckless after the holidays, there were two presentations.
The tradition continues to this day, though the damn things have to be shipped cross country every year.
These had a mark on the bottom, that declared them to be Enesco products. It appears that these were once in some way a “thing,” mass produced for people to buy, and not some horrible one-off experiment passed on at a party. Thankfully I could find no trace of them on the current site, so apparently someone has come to their senses.
Still, the company that now owns Gund once made these things. It makes me weep a little.
Regardless, we bought the bed, and almost against my will, the ducks. But there was only one thing I could do with them.
Happy birthday little brother!
Sadly, I may have created a monster. Armed with the knowledge that there are more of them out there, he’s gone looking. He’s already found one for sale on the web. I can only pray to the elder gods that the item was sold before he found it.