Wednesday, July 14, 2004

The URL for my blog is changing. Please update your links accordingly. The new URL will be here.

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 Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Tonight has been a very successful night. Cleaned the bathroom and vaccuumed the house. Cooked a very good tuna steak from Central Market with some red corn and a fresh salad. Watched a little of the All-Star Game. Stopped using pronouns. Changed the upstreaming options on my blog from the RadioUserland site, where I had limite space and limited control, to my own web server. I'm very pleased overall with the results of this evening so I think I'll reward myself by going to bed. Or something else.
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This is a test to see if my new URL is working. Test apparently doesn't seem to be working. Still testing. . .
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Michelle Malkin notes the raving lunacy of European environmentalists who want to make sure we don't use genetically modified plants to develop an AIDS vaccine.
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A conservative finds himself lost in the land of liberals.
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 Monday, July 12, 2004
 Sunday, July 11, 2004

When Mermaids go bad
11:59:19 PM  
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Street painting is cool. (Via ChicagoBoyz )
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Kerry's mouth gets him in trouble again. I understand that in the heat of battle, things invariably get said that are distortions of the truth in politics but claiming that ONE MILLION BLACKS got disenfranchised in 2000? That goes beyond hyperbole and falls into the lying category. And why don't we see this anywhere else but in the blogosphere? Hmmm I wonder.
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 Friday, July 09, 2004

I'm off for a family reunion in Elk City, Oklahoma. I know you're jealous but try to contain yourselves whilst I'm gone.
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At the risk of sounding ridiculously snide, this guy is ridiculously paranoid.
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The flowers in front of The Container Store were colorful, one could call them a sea of color. But what exactly constitutes a sea of color? How much color does a sea of color really require? Does Thomas Kinkade play a part in the decision? Maybe this bed was just a pond or a stream of color. And why was I thinking about the descriptive term for a bed of posies? Because I was afraid. Not in that night-terror, massive turbulence in a jumbo jet, sonofabitchhasgotagunandwantsallyourmoneysoyoupissyourpants sort of afraid, but afraid nonetheless. Thinking of how to describe a rather ordinary bed of posies (or where they daisies? Hell I donít know) was much preferred to opening the door to Barnes and Noble and trying to decide between My Life and A Good Walk Spoiled. Ok maybe not My Life but some book for comparisons sake. To look at all those titles and try to make a choice, to decide one book was better than the other, that frightened me. So much so that even though my entire purpose this evening was to go and choose a new book, I could scarcely handle the fear of opening up the doors to the bookstore. So here I stand, staring at a bed of flowers of unknown type, avoiding my only purpose in life at this particular moment. Because I was afraid to choose. Afraid to commit. Afraid to take a fork in the road (pardon me, Mr. Frost, Iím in a hurry) and see where it led. These things scare me. Fucking frighten me really. What if Iím wrong? What if I screw up? What if that boy down the street sees me and thinks Iím a dork? These things canít happen so I think about fucking flowers instead. It leads to a kind of paralysis, a constipation really. Itís not so much that some injury or debilitating injury has caused me to not be able to enter Barnes and Noble. More like Iíve ingested things that make it impossible to pass shit from my brain. A man and a woman (or was that a man and a man, I just canít tell) walk by oblivious to my quandary. Do they deal with such matters? Who cares? I care. I care about such things because Iím a care machine. I exude care as long as itís abstract and easy, nothing concrete that might have actual effect in the world. Ah shit, Iím just going to go in the store, pick up the first book on the front table and get the hell out of there. Unless itís My Life. Then Iím going to have to fucking browse. Because whoís life is so empty as to read that shit?
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 Thursday, July 08, 2004

My high score on the typing game below is 350. The whole time I'm playing it, I'm thinking to myself that it doesn't really test your typing speed because I type about 70 words per minute and I'm obviously not very good at that game. What does it test? Clearly, it helps to be a good typer but since the letters come in groups that we are not used to seeing, people who are good at that game are probably like people who can remember large chunks of apparently random information. Psychological studies show that people who are good at these types of things have a talent for "chunking", the ability to see patterns in or make meaning out of seemingly randome and meaningless information. The average human can remember a 7 digit phone number for about 7-10 seconds. People who have great memories tend to give meaning to things so that the information more rapidly moves from short-term memory to long-term memory. While that game doesn't test long-term memory, it probably does test your ability to chunk information into meaningful parts.

Of course, rum in general makes chunking harder. Well, the kinds of chunking I'm talking about here.
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This game, while not as frustrating as Psycho Pong is still strangely addicting. (Via A Capital Idea).
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Now this sounds like fun. And if you write Bush's acceptance speech, you get an extra month to do it. Is that because it's harder to be a speechwriter for Bush? [Did you just jab Bush's speech skills-ed. Shaddup, I've been drinking.] Regardless, that sounds like good fun.
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This editorial in the Dallas Morning News wants to get rid of the Hitler images and reference in American politics, to which I say "Here, here!". However, when he says "Both sides should apologize Ė if not to each other, to survivors of the Holocaust and World War II.", I have to call bullshit. I'm confused as to why the Republicans should apologize for noting that a large portion of the far left seems to be confused between a hatemongering dictator and the President of the United States. Republicans didn't refer to conservative bloggers as Digital Brownshirts. Republicans didn't call Bush Hitler.

It's the people on the extreme left doing these things and I see no reason why the Republicans should be ashamed for calling attention to that fact. If the editorialist is calling for some sort of "turn the other cheek" concept, maybe they should come out and say it. But to say the Republicans should apologize for the extreme Left's bad behavior is asinine.
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 Tuesday, July 06, 2004

And I just thought Volare was just a Plymouth station wagon. Instead, it's Karaoke!
(Via Ghost of a Flea)
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Downtown Farmersville, Texas circa 1921
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Small town Americana, courtesy of Farmersville, Texas downtown.
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