This is all over the intarweb these days: puppy tv (hattip: thisamericanlife.org)

Someone let me know if they ever stop sleeping.

I grew up in the midwest, where there are bugs. Lots of bugs. Not quite like Mississippi in April (I was there for a week once), but still, there are a lot of bugs.

Then I moved to the northwest. There are times when you could expect to go outside in a cool evening and not even consider the issue of mosquitos or biting flies. A common question for local non-campers might be, "What's DEET?"

Last night, a funny thing happened. First of all, the temperature dipped to the high 30sF (~3C). Frost advisory in effect! Not exactly the best conditions for summertime biters.

Second of all, I went to sleep late. A typical Friday night, but atypically didn't include doing the laundry: awake too late for my own good, and all I wanted was to crash.

Then the buzzing started.

A mosquito! As far as I know, this was the first mosquito-as-I-sleep of the year. Luckily, the lamp light cast a nice wall shadow on the just-landed blood-sucker. I did not mourn the loss of life.

And then I crashed.

Tease for next post: Many more words to describe something much less interesting.

1. One photography feed you should watch is The Big Picture, which recently hosted pictures from Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the Earth from Above guy.

2. Are you hep to the jive?

3. There's a drought in California, and Lake Shasta's water level is dropping like a rock, which is exposing old structures that have been submerged.

4. I must confess that I haven't paid much attention to the current financial/economic crisis. Episode 365 from This American Life explained it to me in simple way so that even I could sorta understand what's happening. Apparently, I'm supposed to be more afraid.

5. Once upon a time, a very intuitive friend introduced me to what was to become my favorite movie: Bottle Rocket. I don't get in to fanboy sites, but that doesn't mean that good can't come from them. The goodness I found this week related to Bottle Rocket: Dignan's Notebook. Sweet.

My computer at work hates me half the time. Or maybe it's just some of the software. Whatever/Whoever it is, it gives me a second or two to post random thoughts. Think of this as saving Twitter bandwidth.

• Over the Rhine's Live from Nowhere, Volume 3 arrived today after a long wait. I had forgotten that I ordered it. Good stuff.
• When I've been able to listen, I've been listening to a lot of downtempo chill music. Dig the grove, man.
• Love the new Death Cab for Cutie album, Narrow Stairs.
• I think about music a lot.
• I'm going camping. It's a one night, car camping thing with guys from the church. My knees thank me for no full-on backpacking.
• I expect to hike up to Excelsior Pass (Green Trails #13 Mt Baker) and/or Peak Saturday. My knees are bitter, but they'll get over it. Probably by next Wednesday.
• I need to publish some more pictures.
• Fantasy Football season is upon us. You know what that means: more bad beat stories.

"Do you know where I can go and shoot a TV?"

This is a true story for long-lost friend Grant:

This morning, as I was getting dressed to go out and ride my bicycle in our (finally!) summer-like weather, I put on some shorts I hadn't worn in at least a year, reached in to the left, front pocket...

... and then I found ten bucks.

Today was the first “angry biker” ride on my bicycle in 15 days. The first week my back ached so badly... the second week it was rainy and I wasn’t feeling well. The time off was welcome, though, because I was getting a little tired. I could stand to give a little thanks for having to slow down.

Some of those thanks, says the Head Nurse, maybe should be directed to a major player in my sickly experience (from here):

Mucus. Who doesn't love mucus? I mean, really. It traps bacteria, viruses, pollen, and small animals; it keeps your stomach from digesting itself; it lubricates your intestines. Sure, sometimes there's too much of it, but on the whole, we don't give mucus the love it deserves. I'm going to start agitating for a National Mucus Appreciation Day.

Special bonus link: read about picking zits.

Some assorted quotes heard from around the friend-osphere:

1. "she could talk the hind legs off a mule" -- B

2. "my goal is to have my kids write a bad check for my funeral" -- R

3. "dude, where have corn nuts been all my life?" -- D

George Will on the Land of Plenty (via Marginal Revolution).

Congrats to Rico!

Mmm... Calamari...

A funny Scrabble thing (warning: some naughty words).

Her name is Butts. She steals toilet paper.

I spent most of last week laying low because of a lower back ache. In the big picture, this was the perfect time for such an encumbrance (if one must have one) for two reasons: 1) the weather was less than perfect and 2) my schedule cleared up so that I didn’t have a lot of obligations.

One evening I was able to knock off a number of things off my personal TODO list, which had been growing as fast as I’d been neglecting it (like weeds in my lawn). Both my dirty room and un-ironed clothes, if they were capable of thanks, would be grateful for an evening of quality time spent with them.

Ironing is not something I get excited about. To me, it’s work. The word “chore” takes on all the negative connotations one may conjure.

To facilitate time spent with the taxes of existence (other “taxes” include cleaning the bathroom, changing the car’s oil, picking up after roommates, etc.), I looked to find something a little more stimulating. TV was out of the question, since earlier that evening I suspended TV service for the summer. (I hadn’t watched  TV since the season finales of 24, Lost, The Office, and House, and there isn’t much point in paying for something I'm not using.) But I needed something, and the tunes on the CD just weren't doing it for me.

Yay, for This American Life. I've missed a number of episodes recently, so this was a great time to catch up. I scrolled through the archives, judging each by its title, and innocently picked the one that sounded the most interesting: #328: What I Learned from Television.

Ah, the irony.

Please give me advice.

Be as general or as specific as you'd like. Comments are open.

I went for another bike ride tonight. Instead of there being a headwind coming back south, there was also one going north. Either I’m going zip! bang! pow! fast, or I go riding at the worst possible times.

It was 25 miles again. Same as Tuesday. Yes, yes... it was “on the flats.” I’ll get to the hills in due time.

Interesting facts: There were 3 more dead opossum today than there were on Tuesday. Also, no dogs were giving chase today.

These cool, calm evenings with the house on the edge of the woods... with the frogs croaking... pretty good stuff.

I think I’ll cut my hair once I do my first century ride.

A few of us are doing a mini-road trip and a little camping this weekend. It’s nothing big, but it’ll sure be fun to get out and see a few things.

I used the excuse of the weekend away to purchase a Shiny! New! Canon Digital Rebel XTi. Nikon owners, please forgive me.

In other news, I finally bought a camera. I’ve been kicking this thing around for about a year now. I am pumped.

Hey, did you know that the baseball season started? Yep, me, neither.

Hey, did you know that hockey and basketball are in the playoffs? Yep, me, neither.

The NFL draft was last weekend. The Detroit Lions drafted a receiver first. Again. This is their fourth receiver-picked-first in, what... five years? I guess the difference this time is that everyone wanted this player, except the team own the overall first pick. Everyone believes that this guy from Georgia is the real deal. And Matt Millen survives a little longer.
 
I’m not really a big fan of what I call “shotgun dating”; that is, date as many gals as possible and see what hits. Partly because of that, someone once labeled me “loyal.” (Some other well-meaning people once said "lazy", but that isn't important now). In terms of football-dom, this loyalty often feels like a liability. (It's not always immediately fulfilling in the dating world, either.) But let me argue my case:

Hey, Ladies! I don’t switch teams just because my team wrongs me year after year after year! I’m willing to cope with the coaching incompetence, the bone head front-office decisions, and all the Kevin Jones fumbles. Hosea had Gomer; I have the Detroit Lions. I can forgive!

It’s going on fourth months now that I’ve had roommates living in my (read: U.S. Bank’s) house. It’s hasn’t all been gumdrops and cotton candy, but I’d be a less of a person without these guys around. It's been a pretty good time.

Munchies: $7
Bottle of Port: $15
Cigars: $20
MP3 player with portable speakers: $400
Bee-ess-ing with the roommates on the back deck on a cool, calm evening: priceless.

For everything else, there’s tomorrow.

One of the funniest lines I remember from M*A*S*H:

Father Mulcahy: Klinger, I thought you were an atheist.
Klinger: Gave it up for Lent.

If you click this link, you'll read a brief story about a man who was dead at least one whole year before anyone noticed. And the kicker: the finding of his body was coincidental/accidental.

Maybe I'm affected by the exertion from the day... or the season... or a sudden jolt of humanity... but I can't take this story for anything other than how sad it is.

1. Apparently, Mr. Ricardo was unloved. If you love someone, you care. You check up. It's what you do. (Note to Mom and Dad: I'm calling tomorrow.)
2. He was alone. 'Nuff said.

What scares you? Car accidents? Earthquakes? A bald Britney? I'll betcha that for most people, being unloved and being alone are right on the top of their list of fears, whether they realize it not.

My advice: Hope in Christ.

1. He went to prepare a place for us. Jn 14 is marriage language. We are loved.
2. We have a promise that He will never leave us nor forsake us, and we have the Holy Spirit. We are never alone.

Here in this one night out of the last 21 where I didn’t have something happening, have somewhere to be, or have someone to be, I finally have a little quiet time to read some of my old favorites:

Honey Roasted Peanuts. Ingredients: Salt; artificial honey roasting agents; pressed peanut sweepings.

I know some of you doing-all-the-time types might step over your own mother just have a quiet night away from all the busy-ness, but careful what you ask for. I’ll bet you “twenty dollars can buy many peanuts” that you and me both on a suddenly open night are a little like the mule with a spinning wheel… no one knows how he got it, and danged if he knows how to use it.

Actually... I figured it out. I’ll use it for laundry. Because the only thing I’m hunting for is an outfit that looks good.

Throw up your hands, and raise your voice.

So I know that there’s been a surge in recent years of naming children after little-named-after Biblical people. In my limited experience, names like Caleb, Noah, and Seth are more common now than they used to be. I don't have a problem with that. None, whatsoever. In fact, the cutest kid you're going to meet (okay, okay... he's at least in the top 4) is named Seth (seen on the right).

But when’s the last time you heard of parents naming their kid Tamar or Amminadab?

I will give you $50 if you name your daughter Abishag.

Technology can be wonderful and make life easier. For examples: last.fm, internet banking, and Hot Pockets and news about nailing jelly to a wall.

It also gives us tax return software.

But don’t get me wrong. It’s not the tax return software that’s the problem. In fact, the software I used was useful and helpful, and it employed a decent interface. It allowed me to gracefully render unto Caesar, and for Caesar to give back that which he kept interest-free over the past 12 months.

Here’s the problem: With the proliferation of tax return software, and E-File, and all that, there is little hope that we will ever have any kind of serious tax reform. The best argument we used to have against the current tax system is that “taxes are too complicated.” Now the best argument we have against it is, “I have too many software providers to choose from.”

What would be better? No income tax. Failing that, a flat tax. But for now, we’re stuck. Land of the AGI, Home of the Schedule A.

Crank up the burner, folks. That frog won’t jump.

So I was heading home yesterday about 5:30pm and, whaddyaknow, there was enough sunlight, in between the dark clouds, to show an orange sunset.

To me, this indicates two highly significant things:

1. The sunny parts of days are getting longer. Not only that, it’s actually noticeable to the 9-ish to 5-ish office crowd. (Lamest Day of the Year award goes to: toss-up! Dec 22 (shortest day) or June 23 (when the days start getting shorter))

2. Spring and summer are indeed coming. God promised we would not be deluged again, and he keeps his promises. Also noteworthy: We went a whole 23 hours without precipitation the other day. Praise the Lord, and pass the sunscreen.

Kalloo, Kallay! Tomorrow is garbage day!

Out with the old, the older, and the oldest:

Wait till you hear how long I go between oil changes...

I need to pray more.

Jesus told us and showed us how to pray. See Mt 6.

Allow me to provide a few extra-Biblical tips on how NOT to pray, taken partially from recent incidents and apocryphal examples.

1. During the singing part of corporate worship, prayer should not be used as segue from one song to the next. That’s not to say that it couldn’t be something that happens in between two songs; it most certainly could (and should). But I have to question the genuineness of a prayer that begins by echoing the last line of the previous song and finishes with the text of the first line of the next song. To me, that’s not always a prayer; that’s like a scripted part of a show.

2. Prayer should not be used
2.1 to provide information to other prayer participants

Good: “... we pray, too, for Roberta who will be having surgery ...”
Bad: “... we pray, too, for Roberta, who most people here don’t know but who is Rosaline’s mother’s cousin, who had been battling cancer for years before it went in to remission, in your sovereignty, and which has returned...”

2.2 to practice politics or to preach

Good: “... thank you for your forgiveness. Please forgive me for my sins of...”
Bad: “... please remind us all that forgiveness is only from you, even for the Democrats that are on the wrong side of the political issues...”

2.3 to give stage directions

Good: (to the audience) “You may be seated.” (to God) “Lord, please hear our prayers.”
Bad: “Dear Lord, we are here to lift up your name, as we may be seated...”

We’re praying to God through Jesus. We should talk to him, not each other.

3. Prayer time should not be used to generate holier-than-thou blog content by easily annoyed people.

I wish you a Merry Christmas.

In other news, here's a story about which stalls are busiest in multi-stall washrooms (h/t Improbable Research from 14 Dec). Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. Consider this my gift to you.

It was the headline that caught my attention:

Owner: Man tried to hide guitar in pants

though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Is 1:18

wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Ps 51:7

#1 and #2 from today’s sermon on Generosity... and giving... and having stuff and how you use it:

You never see a U-Haul trailer behind a hearse.

#2:

“Hey, share that.”
“No.”
“Fine... when you pass on, I’ll buy it at the garage sale.”

#3 is a throw-away comment from a football announcer. Does a player really want this said about him?

... who is not playing today because of a bad groin.

The final results from yesterday’s genius quiz question:

Men who say Man: 12
Men who say Woman: 16
Women who say Man: 11
Women who say Woman: 4

People who say Man: 23
People who say Woman: 20

Some of the responses:
-- Woman says it’s a man because men relate to their stomachs
-- Woman says it’s a woman because I’ve heard women say that before
-- Man says it’s a man because I’ve heard men say that before
-- Man says it’s a woman because a man wouldn’t have used that many words
-- Man says it’s a man, but he’s totally metro
-- Woman & Man says it’s a woman because she’s talking about rage
-- Woman says it’s a man because women don’t say “ragingly greedy”
-- Woman says it’s a man because “I know a man who is a writer and he writes like that”
-- Man says it’s a woman because it is expressing something about emotions and attachment
-- Man says it’s a man because girls don’t say “like starving”
-- Woman says it’s a man, but it could go either way. God created us to mate. (Son of Woman then announces his discomfort with the current conversation.)
-- Man says it’s a woman because “no comment”

What respondents said, and how they said it, was where all the fun was. Other things I recall: A few sought me out later to change their answer; some guessed immediately without a second thought; some wouldn’t answer without more context. Some men didn’t want to talk about it and gave me an answer so I would stop bugging them. I suspect that the sex of the questioner (I’m a man, baby) may have influenced some guesses. I also suffered threats when I refused to divulge the answer immediately (It’s amazing the power people give you when you withhold information).

'Nuff chit-chat. The author is unveiled:

These words were penned by Megan, an engineer in Sacramento. So she’s a woman. A very articulate, very geeky (in a good way!) California gal.

Megan writes, “I would have thought it would be immediately obvious that a woman wrote that.  I don't think of men as pining for a relationship that much.”

Kudos, Megan, for being able to succinctly express a common human condition. And thanks for letting me rip off your comments for fun and non-profit. At the very least, I learned a lot about my co-workers; and they me.

I’m taking a poll. Conducting a test, as it were.

Here’s how it works: I share a quote, and you tell me whether it was authored by a man or a woman.

I did not write it. No one in the state of Washington wrote it. If you know how to effectively use teh internets, you can learn who wrote it soon enough. To be true to the test, please respond using your gut rather than your google. For now, please read the following and answer the question:

When I think even a little about wanting to be with someone, I get ragingly greedy. It feels awful, like starving. Please let it happen soon, or please let me stop wanting it so much.

The question: Was this written by a man or a woman? Why did you give that answer?

Here’s my Why (as in, "Why are you even asking?"): I read this and I immediately identified with the sentiment. I’ve seen it in my life; I’ve seen it in other people’s lives, both men and women. My working theory is that this blurb expresses a universal emotion and experience with which both women and men can identify because it is such a basic truth. (You could probably make other guesses... good for you. You are soooo smart.)

My current results (data pool is mostly Caucasian, Anglo-Saxon office workers in a software company where men outnumber women):

Men who say Man: 11
Men who say Woman: 12
Women who say Man: 9
Women who say Woman: 4

People who say Man: 16
People who say Woman: 14

Thanks to those who have guessed already. There is a correct answer to the question, but the answers to “Why do you think so?” have been where most of the fun is. Each person who entered the office’s lunchroom yesterday was sucked in to the discussion. I’d like to get a few more respondents before I publicize the final results.

I’ll share the Who and the final What later.

[Update 2006-11-03T16:20:41Z: Concluding comments are here.]

From The Old Testament Made Easy (Jeanne Steig), the following poem:

A Romance

Jacob fancied Cousin Rachel,
Uncle Laban’s comely child.
Seven years he toiled to earn her,
While her glances drove him wild.

When at last his bride was bedded,
Jacob drew the veil to kiss her.
Under it was Cousin Leah,
Rachel’s older, squint-eyed sister.

“Be not so distraught,” said Laban.
“Though at first she looks alarming,
Leah’s fun. I’ll throw in Rachel—
All for seven years of farming!

“Only seven more, dear nephew,
For the pair. You find that shocking?
Rachel will divert you nicely,
Leah darns a dandy stocking.

“Take the two. And take their handmaids—
This, I think, is rather lavish—
Saucy Bilhah, nubile Zilpah.
Both of them are yours to ravish!”

Leah bore him seven children,
Zilpah had a couple more.
Rachel and her handmaid, Bilhah,
Managed yet another four.

One of Leah’s was a daughter.
Sons made up the other dozen.
All twelve tribes of Israel sprang from
Jacob’s craving for his cousin.

(h/t Fosteronomo)

From the Montgomery (Alabama) Advertiser: "At one site in Barbour County, the [yellow jacket] nest was as large as a Volkswagen Beetle... Attached to two walls and under the slab, the nest had to be removed in sections..."

Caption for picture on the right: "A yellow jacket nest engulfs the inside of a 1955 Chevrolet on Harry Coker's Tallassee property on Thursday. Gigantic yellow jacket nests have been found in old barns, unoccupied houses, cars and underground cavities across the southern two-thirds of Alabama.  -- Rob Carr"

When speculating on how the nest could get so huge, entomologist Dr. Charles Ray recites a line as if this were a B-movie: "...or that the queens have developed some way to cooperate."

The whole story is here.

Thanks to Foster for the link.

Good News, everyone. They found the Virgin Mary.

She’s made of chocolate and lives in Fountain Valley, California.

Mmm… chocolaty co-redemptrix. Praise the Lord, and fire up the fondue pot.

When the wife and kids go on vacation, the bachelorized men may drink, smoke, avoid laundry, watch TV, have barbecues, and eat take-out. They may also often feel bored, aimless, and lonely.

I swear I’m not making this up. It says so right here. Yeah, I know... I can’t believe it, either.

[Update 11:47pm 14 Aug 2006: Broken link fixed.]

Canadians make funny signs:

I just received a Happy Birthday reminder [template pdf] from the State of Washington Department of Licensing which contains the following bits of text:

... renewing on-line [sic] lets you skip the trip, the traffic, and the wait in line. ... you can pay with a credit card or debit card!

They care how I use my time and that I should use it wisely? Convenience, ease, and on my schedule? Sweet! The Internet is great for this kind of stuff.

The censors from the State of Washington Department of Removing All Personality from Government must have been sniffing too many Sharpie^(R) fumes one day and let the following attitude-filled line slip out:

If you prefer the trip, the traffic, and the wait in line, you can still renew in person. ...

Bright morning, clean clothes, gotta get to work... Got a late start, need a drive-through breakfast... #4 with a coffee, please...

Five minutes later, still driving, as I'm relaxing after a sip, I notice some of the precious liquid dripping off the side.

I see coffee marks in prominent places on my (clean) shirt and (clean) pants. On my way to work, no less. At least I was able to shake off the breakfast biscuit crumbs.

This is what I get for not riding my bicycle.

[Update 10:09am: Fixed spelling.]

You figure every girl is beautiful, you know. It’s our arrogance that makes us think one is better than the other. ... I was thinking about girls the other day and wondering, you know, why some girls just get ignored and others get worshipped, and I really got this feeling in my chest like all of that wasn’t true. Can’t be true. Doesn’t make sense. Like maybe if you can’t love a girl who isn’t all perfect, then you can’t really love a girl who is. Not for real. Not unconditionally.

What Donald Miller's travel buddy Paul said, as recorded in Through Painted Deserts (page 42).

http://www.piratejokes.net -- Not always funny (it probably helps with a bit of grog), and not the only place to find 'em. But it's a great way to annoy your very hard(ly) working co-workers.

Mr. T likes the double shot espresso -- hat tip: Raymond Chen (from here).

Pictures of cats with stuff on them.

From a Starbucks paper cup, The Way I See It #89:

Recipe for happiness: an insatiable curiosity, a joy of discovery, quick to forgive, hold no grudges, love without condition, stay loyal to the  death, see the best and ignore the rest -- wow, we can learn a lot from man's best friend!
    -- Nick Bolletieri, Tennis coach and founder of the Nick Bolletieri Tennis Academy

Nice try, but I'm not completely buying it.

How about the negative examples of "man's best friend"?

• drinking from the toilet
• butt-sniffing
• face-licking

To these I prefer sipping a frothy pint, a smile and a hearty handshake, and a big bear hug or a gentle caress from someone I love, respectively.

I'm sure that if I were in to face-licking that my Match.com profile would get more action. But sacrifices must be made, people.