The Vark Does Bark

It was, oh, was it about a year ago, today? Maybe? “Tempus fugits”, as George used to joke. He had a way with words. A bad way, really, he was a punster. But, he was certainly right about tempus fugiting. He’s dead now. A toast to you, old boy.

It must have been about a year ago that I went on that date. It was a long way out of town, and I wasn’t all that eager for the drive, despite the fine man awaiting me. (Not George). He lived in a little old place that hadn’t been getting better since the local industry collapsed. There was about one restaurant in town, so we went there.

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…well, I like a good, round pair of buns, anyway. I ‘member a guy I thought was really hot, back when, but he really had no ass to speak of. Not that I wouldn’t have played with him anyway but, I did kinda wonder how the hell he kept his pants on. He would have been a god if he’d just had a little more butt.

This article’s going to be “not safe for work”, in a text-only fashion, so you can stop right here if you’re squeamish or at work. We’re going to talk about the buttsecks.

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Do ya know?

The blog entries that get the most hits are almost certain not to get feedback. Some of them get many thousands of hits but, hey, apparently they got their feed and went away. Silent data-sucking in the night.

Statistically, those are the most useful articles, and I do appreciate the views. On the other hand, though, I must say that I attach much more importance to the posts that people actually respond to. (Yes, “to which people actually respond”, thank you, but that’s stuffy as all hell.)

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Sorry I haven’t been providing the accustomed entertainment, bemusement, outrage, or neat ideas, this week. Haven’t felt like saying anything. These things happen. I’ll be back.

We live our lives in cages that aren’t there. The bars are, at once, both stronger than steel and more gossamer than a butterfly’s wing. They’re made of customs, cultures, religions, habits… ideas.

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I like the banjo scene from Deliverance. It’s wonderful in oh-so-many ways. Irony, excellent music, and the curious theme (similarly expressed in Clockwork Orange) of that bizarre mixture of genius and beast that is Man.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything much more than PG-rated, here. (”It’s quiet.” “Too quiet.”)

I think I’ll reinstate Sexy Sundays. I have a mind to review pornography. I’ve made a fair survey of the field, I expect, and I’m inclined to share my observations. There is all too little video porn out there that is very good. Perhaps my pointers will have some small value.

Of course, people do have wildly different ideas about what’s exciting but, if you don’t like the pictures, perhaps you’ll enjoy it for the articles. Heh.

No worries. I’ll post the usual warnings and keep the good stuff below the fold. You can scurry off if the idea horrifies you.

“He’s a magic man” - Heart

Time ago, time ago it was, a long time ago, so it seems. The early-towards-mid 1980s, when the very first IBM PCs were brand new, and far too expensive for commoners, and the tiny collection of machines that would become the Internet didn’t even register on the scope.

We were running TRS-80s, then, and Apple IIs, mostly. CP/M machines, and the odd Commodore. Our Internet was the phone line, with a modem running all of (often) 300 bits per second… you could watch the text scroll across the screen.

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Once upon a time, I washed my glasses with soap. This turns out to be a bad idea. Regular soaps leave a lot of residue, which doesn’t come off at all easily.

Eventually, I discovered that shampoo works better. It still tends to leave a bit of gunk but, it comes off much more readily.

Lately, by a happy accident, I cleaned my glasses with a liquid hand soap. This stuff actually rinses off cleanly, with no residue whatsoever.

I wonder how well it works as a shampoo and body wash.

The heavens have opened, and no longer separate the waters above from the waters below. It is raining here in Phoenix. The baked-clay lawns and flat streets do little to absorb or channel water. The streets are flooded. The sidewalks are flooded.

It’s going to be a bad morning, tomorrow, for anyone who’s parked their cars in the lower level of the garage. As it turns out, the entrance to the garage was not properly graded, and the excess water from the street has been funneling right on in. If you were parked at the bottom, your car is submerged.

That’s going to be awkward to explain to your insurance company.

It rains so rarely here, I actually enjoy it. Plus, I have the advantage of being one of the few people in Phoenix who owns an umbrella. Just as well that I wear sandals, too, because the streets are ankle-deep. Woo! It’s wet out there!

The Libertarian candidate for U.S. President, this year, is Bob Barr. A former Republican Congressman, Mr. Barr picked up the Libertarian Party nomination through slick (and slimy) last-minute deals. The folks in the LP who are eager to win at any cost were delighted, of course. He’s certainly a politician. Libertarian, no.

Dig his press release:

Today, as we celebrate our freedom and independence, we should stop and give thanks to God for the life and work of Jesse Helms. As a nation we are stronger and the world is freer for his commitment to liberty.

Mother of God.