Couch

I know this picture has made the rounds, but I still laugh every time I see it. The good news is that the army has new camouflage. The bad news is that it only works if we invade grandma's house.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Living the Cliche

So I finally had a quintessential cliche moment. Thursday I was on the treadmill, three sweaty miles into my five mile run. I was panting like a trout in bass boat and sweating like a fat man in Phoenix when she gets on the treadmill next to mine. We've all seen the type: Betty I'm-just-here-looking-for-a-boyfriend. (I know, this type also exists in the male of the species.) They're easy to spot, with their $200 workout fashion ware and hair done, spending more time looking around the room than at the treadmill readout. This particular Betty had applied about 3 liters of her cologne prior to entering the sweat deck. Her eau d'Phosgene made the air shimmer for ten feet around her. My eyes watered like I'd been tear gassed. I coughed like I'd swallowed a chicken bone. A spike of molten vomit made it as far north as the spot where my tonsils used to be. Compounding the damage was my breathing at double the normal rate due to the aerobic activity. I actually longed for the smell of a Chinese restaurant dumpster in the Georgia sun. The treadmill has a fan, which I quickly engaged. This simply introduced the mustard gas into my respiratory tract at twice the rate. If my alveoli hadn't been enduring the equivalent of a Dutch Oven I'd have offered a few choice words. Instead, I'm forced to resort to this forum. So Betty, consider yourself ridiculed and derided.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Nerd Test

My name is Ozymandias, king of kings...

Told you it was a nerd test. Like I said at the beginning of this blog, we're overeducated. If you don't know who Ozymandias is you can look here.

Ares

Enlarged Stupid

The last thing I want is for this space to be the home of the perpetually indignant. That said, I came across this piece in the Wall Street Journal and couldn't resist a trip to the soap box.

At a time when scores of companies are freezing pensions for their workers, some are quietly converting their pension plans into resources to finance their executives' retirement benefits and pay.

In recent years, companies from Intel Corp. to CenturyTel Inc. collectively have moved hundreds of millions of dollars of obligations for executive benefits into rank-and-file pension plans. This lets companies capture tax breaks intended for pensions of regular workers and use them to pay for executives' supplemental benefits and compensation.

Wow. It's takes a special kind of suspension of reality and belief to convince yourself this won't backfire. Best case scenario: It ends up screwing your company into the ground. Worst case scenario: Crap like this brings down government intervention on a scale not previously envisioned by anyone. Or we could go big picture and look at this in a historical context. The last time corporate America treated it's employees with this kind of contempt was the first quarter of the twentieth century. How did that work out for them?

I finished The Fourth Turning a few weeks ago. Its a bit of a diffuse read, but the very short version of their thesis is that American history moves in waves. About every 80 to 100 years it goes really sideways and gets stretched to the breaking point. Do the math: Revolution & Continental Congress, Civil War, Great Depression, 2000 to ..... One of the big reasons the authors attribute to the above timespan is that everyone that was alive during the previous rupture is dead, so no one remembers how much it sucked. Scary thing about the book is it was written in 1997 and some of their short term predictions have pretty much come to pass. Things like this WSJ fiddling-while-Rome-burns article looks like another log on the coming fire.

Ares

Another Signpost

Local teenagers from the Hey Al Dubat area of Fallujah, Iraq, hang out during the afternoon near a Kentucky Fried Chicken July 16. Since the opening nearly seven months ago, the business has flourished and attracts many customers in the nearby area. (Official Marine Corps photo by Cpl. Chris T. Mann)

Just in case you needed another indicator that it's just about over but the shouting, there's now a KFC in Fallujah of all places. You know, the Fallujah where Abu Musab al-Zarqawi was sawing off heads a few years ago. The Fallujah of Operation Phantom Fury infamy. The Fallujah where they executed, burned and strung up 4 contractors from a bridge, then danced in the streets. Bing West talks about Fallujah's reputation within Iraq in No True Glory. It was a nasty place even by Iraqi standards; their version of New Jersey. A lot of Saddam's thugs were drawn from there. And now they've got original or extra crispy with teenagers hanging around in front. Screw the political benchmarks. When Iraq gets its first indoor mall, compete with teenagers hanging around all day, it's time to bring the boys home.

One final thought. The picture below is from inside the Fallujah KFC.

A friend of mine went to Detroit a few years back looking at medical schools. He told me while he was there he went to a KFC in a really bad, "Oh Shit" part of town. This particular KFC had Plexiglas pass-throughs at the counter because the neighborhood was so bad. So using the KFC metrics, Fallujah is now safer the Detroit was 10 years ago. I'm gonna start selling "US out of Detroit" bumperstickers and declare a quagmire. Then again, calling Detroit a quagmire is redundant.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Atlanta Burn

What is it about this town in the summer that drives me under? There's something beyond the retardation-inducing heat, the diesel-tasting air, the nose-burning smell of piss, and the ugliness of graffiti-stained terrain. Maybe it's the collective rush towards idiocy. As usual, when the stupid gets too thick I head for the hills. This time it was literal, with a weekend foray to a cabin outside Blue Ridge. (At right Mrs. Ares ponders the distant hills from the deck of our 48 hour home.)

I call these Band-Aid weekends. Whatever's open in your head gets plastered over for a few days, just enough for it to coagulate. The older I get the less effective these bind-and-patch interludes are on my psyche. My relaxation genes are developing an immunity. The first instinct is to go farther away for longer, but I think that's just hitting the nail harder. Along those lines Mrs. Ares and I watched Into The Wild the other night. That poor kid read too much and worked up the ideal of getting away to the point where it drove him out where he didn't belong. (Reason #845 why I love Mrs. Ares: ½ way through the movie, when he's going on about wanting to get away from it all and go to Alaska, she says to me “He just spent too much time in Atlanta”.) No one in early adulthood should have unlimited access to Kerouac, Thoreau, and any Russian author. In my youth, upon relaying my discovery of Camus to Athena, she remarked to the effect that certain literature should have an age restriction.

I'm not sure what the answer is here. I'm mainly just spouting off at the keyboard because it's late and I can't sleep. Actually, I could sleep but I can't just yet. That's another day's post. As for this day's post, I'll give it and myself a rest.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Carbon Commercials

Commercials cause global warming. (Sorry I meant climate change.) That's according to a deep think pushed on the poor folks in Australia. While I think they were trying to be serious, I can't stop laughing. I have a vision of a hemp-wearing, Birkenstock-shod, tofu-eating, Kucinich-voting, (whoops, sorry Athena) trust-fund hippie, sitting in a yurt, turning off the TV during pauses in Lost. There's no source on the article, but I'm pretty sure it comes from the Department of Making Stuff Up, which is a sub-unit of the Ministry of Pulling Statistics Out of Our Ass. When I consider the current frenzy associated with environmental worship I think of the immortal words of John Candy in Spaceballs:"They've gone to plaid." I've posted it below (about 4:40 on the clip) just to remove the intellectual stink.

Ares

Marmot Monday

I think he's saying "Damn, it's hot!"

Ares

Amen

And "Its Not News, Its CNN"...

Athena

What We Call The News

Brilliant!



Ares

Marmot Monday

Locals Only Post

Whore!

For those from out of town, the whore in question is the one that is currently not a United States Senator. This is so pathetic it defies definition. Vernon actually had himself Photoshopped in with Barack for a campaign flier. This is the political equivalent of telling a girl you're terminally ill so she'll sleep with you. What's next? Vernon in one of those walls at Disneyland where you put your head through the hole so its on Micky Mouse's body? God I wish I had Photoshop.

Ares

Tuesday Word of the Day

Ataraxia: "A pleasure that comes when the mind is at rest." Also, a state characterized by freedom from worry or any other preoccupation.

Something to learn, something to practice.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Fourth

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Two hundred years later it's still one hell of a mission statement.

Ares

Food Suicide

Holy Trans-Fats, Batman! Courtesy of Instapundit, a story about the Luther Burger: A bacon cheeseburger that uses Krispy Kreme donuts for a bun. WOW! Atlanta locals are familiar with the now-defunct Mulligans on the south side of Decatur. Mulligans had the world famous Hamdog, which is a hot dog wrapped in a beef patty and deep fried. The Hamdog takes it's place alongside the deep fried Mars bar and deep fried Twinkie as the Leaving Las Vegas of food. Again, wow.

Ares

Update: Further food research has led me to the Bacon Unwrapped website. This is an instant new favorite in the Ares household. Best quote: "The scent of barbecue permeates the air. And as you walk down the midway, people offer you free pork. Within 5 minutes of passing through the gates, I had a sausage in my hand. I like to imagine this is what heaven might be like".