I'VE BEEN PONDERING SOME SELF-IMPROVEMENT, BUT LET'S NOT CALL 'EM "RESOLUTIONS"...

           Okay, so maybe I'm not exactly "perfect" in my current configuration.  But this "resolution" thing is taking it too far, in my opinion.

           Every year we muddle along, putting on weight, ignoring our dental issues, letting household improvements slide, telling ourselves that THIS will be the fresh start we need to finally drop the pounds, clean out the garage, fix the roof, repaint the bedrooms, caulk the tubs, etc. etc. etc. and in the end, we punish ourselves for a week or two in early January, then revert to whatever got us into such sorry shape to begin with.

           My resolution this year is to make no bullshit resolutions.  My lovely (and dangerous) wife, on the other hand, has already started carrying through on her threats to impose a new diet plan for the two of us.  I call her "cleansing" proposals a diet of brush and potpourri... and I've been subjected to this shit in the past.  It's not nearly as horrible as I pretend it is, but if I don't act sufficiently miserable she'll just keep ratcheting up the levels of bland roughage until we're actually surviving on twigs and sunflower hulls.

            Sigh...

            I prefer to make resolutions I can keep.  For instance, I'm perfectly willing to give up Brussel sprouts, boiled okra, gin, and going to church.  I already hate all of those things.  See how easy this is?

            I can give up peanut brittle, coconut, wild women, and day trading, too.  Being a married man who never eats peanut brittle or coconut, who already HAS a wild woman, and who doesn't know a damn thing about the stock market helps with this series of sacrifices I'm willing to make.

           But for Christ's sake, baby, don't tell me we can't have cheese, or hamburgers, or baked potatoes with butter, or cold beer!  Don't hide the sausage-cheese balls, or put the fudge in the freezer labeled as "asparagus".  Surely we can compromise!

           Compromise... what a concept.  I read in the morning paper where Congressional leaders and our President are trying to pound out some kind of agreement to avoid a brush and potpourri diet of sequestration cuts and taxes... and I'm willing to bet those assholes have a better chance at reaching a happy medium than we do here at Chateau Squatlo.

           If you come over to visit, please bring beer and something totally decadent to eat.

           I'd do it for you...
        

           

THE PERILS OF LIVING WITH A NINJA...

          I knew this was a dangerous job when I signed up for it...

          My lovely (and oh-so-dangerous) wife is probably registered as a dangerous weapon in some file somewhere.  I don't know if they keep files on 4th degree black belts, or if that's just a myth Barney Fife used to reference from time to time... but if there IS such a file, my wife's in it.

           I've written before about my lack of sleep since marrying this woman.  You see, Mrs. Squatlo tends to thrash around in her sleep, fighting off invisible enemies and keeping the world safe for pansies like me.  The problem with this nocturnal activity is that she often punches and kicks evil-doers in her sleep, and while I'm sure she's not giving it her 'all' when she dream fights, she can still inflict a lot of damage on innocent by-snoozers.  I've learned to sleep in a fetal position, always mindful to keep vital organs covered with elbows or knees in the event of a misplaced thrust kick.

            Needless to say, sleeping with one eye open and being ever vigilant to the possibility of broken ribs tends to move the REM cycle out of its normal rhythm.  I haven't had more than two or three truly restful night's sleep since we moved in together six or seven years ago.

            But that's not why I called you here today...  No one gives a shit about my interrupted sleep patterns, and no one should.  It's my burden to bear, and I try to keep my whining to a minimum on the blobber... I make up for it in person, and if you're ever over for a beer you'll hear all about it.  Whatever it is.  Ask anyone. 

            No, what's bothering me these days isn't my lack of sleep or these mysterious bruises I sometimes wake up with.  I'm beginning to think our little house has a secret passageway that I'm unaware of, and it's freaking me out. 

           My wife can be standing beside me in the kitchen, which is on one end of our house, and I'll decide to leave the room and walk down the hallway to our office.  Sometimes I'm carrying hot beverages when I take this stroll.  You have no idea how disconcerting it can be to arrive in the office, turn the corner and run face to face into the same woman I left in the kitchen.

           She's also begun to sneak up on me in stealth mode when my back is turned.  I'll be at the sink (perhaps washing out a coffee mug that she just made me spill in the office...) and she'll beam herself into the kitchen behind me in utter silence.  I'll turn to reach for the coffee maker and she'll be standing there looking at me as if my startled spasm of shock is the funniest thing ever.  This happens about ten times a day.

           I'll know (!) she's in the bedroom bath, because I just left her there.  I'll walk to the kitchen, round the corner, and there she'll be, looking at me as if to say, "What?"

           They say people my age tend to forget things and become absent minded.  And that might account for some of this shit... but not all of it.  Did I mention that people my age tend to forget things and become absent minded?

            I think she's deliberately trying to give me a heart attack.  Lack of sleep combined with these ninja-like appearances in rooms she can't possibly be in are beginning to wear down my defenses.  It's like there are clones of this woman in the house, moving around in silence, just waiting to spring up in my face as I turn a corner or pull back a shower curtain...

           It's a wonder I'm not a nervous wreck.

           Not that I'm whining or anything...  If you come over for a beer we'll sit out back and talk about it, though.

            I wonder if Major Nelson had moments like this with Jeanie?

THREE POLICE OFFICERS WOUNDED BY MAN WITH GUN IN POLICE STATION... IF ONLY THE NRA HAD HAD A MAN WITH A GUN THERE TO PROTECT THEM!

          A man being processed after his arrest for domestic violence grabbed a gun and shot three police officers before being shot and killed in Gloucester Township, New Jersey early today.

          Expect Wayne LaPierre to issue a statement demanding that all police stations hire armed security guards for protection against this kind of gun violence in the future.

          (heavy sigh...)

          And on a more personal note, here's a story involving violent video games for you to consider...

          Over the hollerdaze my lovely (and dangerous) wife and I stopped in and stayed overnight with friends of ours in east Tennessee.  My friend is a General Sessions Judge in our old hometown, much involved with local law enforcement in that area.

          His eleven year old son had a friend staying overnight, and the two of them were in the basement playing the newest video games they'd received for Christmas the day before.  I decided to go downstairs to say hello, and the first thing I saw on the TV screen was an animated video character shooting a police officer in the face, complete with a spray of blood and lots of backsplash behind the officer.

          One of the kids yelled to the other, "Jake, run!  He threw a grenade!"

          But Jake didn't move his character, the grenade went off, killing his on-screen character.  His response?

           "I wanted to kill myself.  Let's play Call of Duty!"

            I had just caught a snippet of "Grand Theft Auto Five".

            My friend had no idea such things were happening in that video game, probably because the games are designed to babysit the kids while the adults get a breather from the chaos.

            Anyone who thinks that kind of violence being portrayed over and over again can't have a numbing effect on a young mind isn't really thinking.

                       

LANDFILLING OUR WAY TO AN EVER LARGER PLANET...

 

Just a few facts to consider, gleaned from a Mother Jones article concerning packaging...

 

10% of every product's final price is for the package holding the product.

 

Packaging is a $429 billion a year industry

 

1/3 of the waste produced in America is packaging

 

In 2007 Americans disposed of 78.5 million tons of packaging

 

Between Thanksgiving and Xmas, Americans produce 1 million additional tons of garbage per week.

 

5,700 Americans visit emergency rooms annually for injuries sustained opening clamshell packaging...

 

And now, for some facts I can personally attest to:

 

Each American Idol Barbie contains:

 

435 sq. inches of cardboard in the outside box

385 sq. inches of cardboard for the interior box

580 sq. inches of plastic, NOT INCLUDING the doll or accessories

45 inches of wire

30 inches of tape

5 rubber bands

55 total pieces of packaging

 

AND HERE'S THE KICKER...

 

It took testers an average of 25 minutes to open and completely unwrap the Barbie, using scissors, a box cutter, tweezers, hands and teeth.

 

 

            My great-niece (which makes me a Great Uncle, but I already knew that...) received at least seven different Barbie related gifts this Christmas, and every one of them required half an hour of an adult's time to free from its container.  We were up to our asses in Barbie boxes, clamshell plastic, wires, clips, rubber bands and cardboard. 
 
            Every single present that was unwrapped at my sister's house this Christmas morning came in a package that was 50% larger than necessary, and most of them were encased in hard, impossible to penetrate plastic clamshell cases, and bound by wires, twist-ties, and other restraints.
            
             Seriously... if you buy a pair of scissors these days, you have to HAVE a pair of scissors to free them from the package.

             I spent a few minutes wandering around the living room during the lull after the frenzy picking up the garbage, and easily filled two large trash bags with packaging and wrapping paper.
             When you consider that this kind of waste was being picked up and bagged in millions of American homes on Christmas morning, it's staggering to consider the implications for our planet.  Most of this shit won't decompose in a thousand years.  It'll just be buried under tons of garbage, left for future generations to deal with.

              They say manufacturers use such elaborate overkill in their packaging to discourage shoplifting, as well as to enhance the display appearance of the products.

               But surely we can find a way to seriously reduce this annual madness, can't we?

               Is it really necessary to clear cut rain forests to make wrapping paper for 500 million gifts every December?  Do we have to put five pounds of plastic into a landfill with every purchase of a two inch long memory card or flash drive?  Ever bought a replacement ink cartridge for a home printer?  You'll eventually find the cartridge inside two or three other packages, and by the time you've got your hands on the thing you'll be standing in the middle of enough cardboard, plastic, and paper to hide a small dog.

                We could demand saner packaging practices, and maybe even force legislation to reduce this incredibly wasteful footprint.

                We could.  But we don't.

                

HO, HO, HO MY ASS... GUANO WON'T WAIT FOR THE NEW YEAR!

MERRY CHRISTMAS, FELLOW BLOBBERS!!!

         We be traveling for the hollerdaze, so this will be the last blobber post until after Santa's done his breaking-and-entering magic all over the world.

          I hope everyone reading this has a great Christmas.  In fact, I hope everyone has a great Christmas, whether they read this blog or not!

          How's that for magnanimous?


          MERRY CHRISTMAS, FOLKS!

JACKIE AND DUNLAP DISCUSS GUN CONTROL IN MAYBERRY (turns out Andy Griffith was a fascist 'cause he didn't give Barney enough ammo...)

               How do we know Barney Fife wouldn't be the one up on the roof with the sniper rifle?  And what would have happened if Ernest T. Bass had come to town with guns instead of a rock?

               Jackie and Dunlap discuss gun control on their podcast...

WHEN THE HOOEY GODS KNOW YOU'RE TRYING TO RELAX, ALL MANNER OF ANNOYING SHIT BREAKS OUT...

           My lovely (and dangerous) wife is a hyper sort, always busy with one thing or another.  That's a good thing, because I'm prone to inertia.  My body at rest tends to stay at rest... and naps are one of my favorite things.  If both of us were slovenly, nothing would get done and I'm pretty sure we'd starve.

           A couple of days ago things seemed to be calming down around Chateau Squatlo.  My wife's laundry ordeal seemed to be coming to a close (she likes to wash, dry, fold, hang up, and put away every dirty garment in our area code in one session, and sometimes these wash-a-thons can consume an entire day around here... that means she scurrying up and down the halls carrying folded towels, shirts on hangers, jeans, and armloads of socks and underwear...)  and it looked like we might be able to settle down in front of the boob toob without the sound of our washing machine preparing for lift-off in the laundry room.  

           It was dark out, and there were no more professional obligations on the day's horizon, so I made an executive decision to partake of a Happy Brownie.  Those of you who were around in the seventies probably remember "special" brownies... those of you who weren't around or who were too busy with careers and academic achievements to allow for an altered state probably don't.  Needless to say, Happy Brownies can help you achieve a level of "calm" that Big Pharma would love to be able to replicate with a profitable narcotic.

           "Ask your doctor if Cannibisacalm is right for you!  May cause drowsiness, lethargy, euphoria, and an uncontrollable urge to order delivery pizza.  Avoid Cannibisacalm if you're prone to giggling or have an addiction to Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

            I put a small pot of coffee on "brew", went to living room, and sat down to enjoy a nice evening buzz.

             About five minutes after munching down on a soft, moist brownie, life seemed to take a turn for the better.  I sank down into the couch, found the remote control, tuned into one of those do-it-yourself home repair shows, and began to zone out.

            The Hooey Gods hate to see me zoning out.  I got the first clue things weren't going to go quietly into the night when I heard her rummaging around in the utility closet.  A few seconds later the unmistakable sound of a toilet plunger in use began to slosh it's way past my cerebral cortex, and I knew I was going to have to get up.

 
            I may have uttered a wurty dird or two as I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom bath.

            "Problems, dear?"

            "I don't know what's going on.  The toilet overflowed..."

             Yep, I picked right up on that.  The ten soaking wet towels on the floor surrounding the toilet gave it away.

              I didn't actually have to do much, other than help mop up the mess.  She'd plunged her way out of trouble, and a couple of test flushes sent everything the right direction.  Mission accomplished.  I may have said something about flushing more often, instead of letting fifteen or twenty wipes worth of toilet paper build up.  I'm sure it was meant to be helpful.  And I'm sure it wasn't appreciated.  Other adults don't like to be given flushing instructions, apparently.

             So I washed my hands, dried off, and went into the kitchen for that cup of coffee I'd planned to enjoy before I was so rudely interrupted.  That's when I found that the Hooey Gods can strike in two separate rooms simultaneously.

              Ever had a coffee maker spill its guts on your counter top?  For whatever reason, these newfangled drip coffee makers can sometimes "miss" the carafe.  Instead of having four or five cups of Gevalia brewed and ready for my Kahlua and Bailey's, I found counter tops dripping coffee into puddles on the kitchen tile floor.

             And remember, the Cannibisicalm is trying to kick in while all of this is happening, so I'm making about as many messes as I'm cleaning up.

              And people wonder why I often seem so tense and irritated...

              But it's all good.  Not everybody has a warm, wonderful little Energizer Bunny for a wife who's willing to put up with his recreational choices, and I'm pretty sure I've married above my pay grade.

              My Christmas wish for you folks is that you can find a few moments in your day where a nice Happy Brownie is not only allowed, but encouraged, and that the Hooey Gods leave you alone while you enjoy the ride.

               Wag more, bark less...

 

WHEN BLUEBIRDS ARE PUKING, IT'S TIME TO TAKE THE CAMERA OUTTA THE WOODS...

        I decided to brave the chilly weather this morning and take a walk down through the woods along the creek in search of birds or wildlife.  Sometimes I'll see a great blue heron, and sometimes a great horned owl, but usually it's just an assortment of songbirds I could just as easily see from my living room window on our feeders.

        After about an hour of freezing my fingers gripping a metal tripod, I was about ready to call it a wash and head for home when I noticed this bluebird, which seemed to be in a bit of distress.  I'm familiar enough with bird behavior to know when one is acting peculiarly, so I zoomed in on her just in time to watch her cough up a seed, then drop it to the ground in disgust.

         After that she was fine, apparently...

 

(heavy sigh...) THE IDIOCY OF EXPECTING REASONABLE SOLUTIONS FROM UNREASONABLE PEOPLE

         They say a good definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again, yet expecting different results.  By that definition, Barack Obama and the American people are certifiably insane.

          There are some negotiations taking place in Washington between an administration that was re-elected with a bit of a mandate, and that mandate was in direct opposition to the stated intentions of the Republican Party.  The American people looked at the proposed plans of the GOP concerning the budget, Social Security, and Medicare, and then overwhelmingly refused to play along.  Obama was given a second term, the GOP lost seats in both the House and Senate, and for a brief, shining moment it seemed as if some of the more strident members of the Republican Party were doing some serious self-reflection that might lead to actual progress in Washington.

         But the opposite of pro-gress is Con-gress, and that's been evident in these budget talks.

           The Speaker of the House of Reprehensibles is under fire today, not because he's a complete boob, but because he can't herd cats.  His is an impossible job.  I'm pretty sure if John Boehner had his way with his fellow Republicans in the House, we'd have a sensible resolution to the Fiscal Cliff nonsense we're all sick of hearing about.  He's aware of public sentiment rising against his team, realizes they're likely to take the blame for the upcoming economic cliff dive, and would just as soon NOT look like an idiot on every news outlet in America.

           But he's in charge of a bunch of stubborn buffoons who enjoy "standing on principle", especially when it makes John Boehner look like a fool.  You see, they despise the guy almost as much as the American people do.  If conservative teabagger Republicans in the House can embarrass Boehner AND bitch slap President Obama, well, that's considered a "two-fer" in their circles.

           So they forced Boehner to back away from his original negotiating position, one that had progressives howling that the President was caving in on key issues, and sent him out with his Plan B proposal.  Then they refused to play along with THAT bullshit ploy, putting Boehner in the ridiculous position of having to pull his own bill from consideration.

            You could almost hear the infamous laugh of Nelson Muntz of The Simpsons coming from the smoke-filled backrooms of the House.

          Meanwhile, another issue was taking center stage in America, and millions of people were calling for legislation designed to reduce the number of gun-related slaughters in our country.  The NRA, not noted for careful contemplation or nuanced positions, remained respectfully silent for nearly a week following the mass murders at a Connecticut elementary school.  They issued a statement saying they were willing to "offer meaningful contributions" to the raging gun debate.

          Then their executive vice president Wayne LaPierre held a press conference calling for armed security guards in every school in America.

           Again, Americans were caught expecting different results from the people who ALWAYS do the same thing in these situations:  they insist that the solution to gun violence is more guns.  It's that simple, in their eyes, and it's always the same solution.  Always.

           So Americans react with eye-rolling and outrage, and LaPierre crawls back into his limo and rides off into the sunset to await the next massacre he'll have to explain to the victims' relatives.

           And we honestly expected him to offer a real solution?  Really?  We expected Wayne LaPierre to step up to the podium and suggest that a ban on extended ammo magazines for assault rifles wouldn't be an unreasonable step toward making society a tiny bit safer?  That perhaps it wouldn't be entirely tyrannical for the government to require background checks on ALL gun purchases, even those between private owners selling to one another?

           If you DID expect such concessions from the NRA, you're as certifiable as John Boehner expecting House Tea Party members to raise taxes on the rich.

           And this country doesn't have enough straight jackets to fit us all.

        
        

HERE'S SOME LOGIC FOR YOU TO PONDER...

DAMN MAYANS... I WOULD HAVE HAD SOMETHING ORIGINAL TO POST, BUT I WAS TOLD THE WORLD WAS ENDING... GUANO INSTEAD!

WORST CONSPIRACY THEORY EVER? ORLY TAITZ SUGGESTS SCHOOL SHOOTER WAS UNDER MIND CONTROL BY THE OBAMA REGIME IN ORDER TO BAN GUNS...

 

 

 

            Okay, on behalf of the reality-based universe I'd like to be the first to say, without a doubt, that Orly Taitz' fifteen minutes of fame is up, and she has to STFU!

             The noisy little Henny Penny who's run around for the past couple of years yelling not that the sky is falling, but that our president was born in Kenya, now wants us to consider the possibility that Barack Obama and his nefarious minions had the Connecticut school shooter under some kind of drug or mind control when he went on his rampage.  Here's a clip from her website:

             Where was Adam Lanza in the days leading to the massacre? Was he handled by someone? Was he drugged? Was he subjected to hypnosis?
The word assassin comes from the Arabic word “Hashish”, name for a drug, I believe correct translation is opium. For thousands of years, since ancient times assassins were drugged.
Was Adam Lanza drugged and hypnotised by his handlers to make him into a killing machine as an excuse as the regime is itching to take all means of self defense from the populace before the economic collapse?

              Taitz would have us believe President Obama secretly sent Lanza to the Sandy Hook Elementary School to kill those kids (after killing Mommy Dearest) because he wants to take away America's guns prior to an economic catastrophe.

              Is there any way to have someone hit a gong, vote her off our island, or give her the proverbial hook from stage right?

              You have to really be OUT there to make Ann Coulter sound reasonable.

              This woman has taken a lot of money from a lot of conservative teabagger types over the past few years, selling her special brand of bullshit.  I hope some of them see this latest theory of hers and recognize that they helped put her ignorant ass in the spotlight.

 

THIS COMMERCIAL'S OUTTAKES SHOULD BE REQUIRED VIEWING FOR ANYONE WHO'S STRESSED OUT RIGHT NOW... FUNNY AS HELL~!

      It's a fairly simple line the guy has to recite: "... baked in a buttery, flaky crust"...

      But like saying the word "rhinoceros" four or five hundred times, after a while you don't even know what the hell it means.

       Watching the woman's exasperated expressions during take after take, flub after flub, is priceless.  She has to smile, he has to say the line, and by the time this ends you're surprised she hasn't stabbed him with her fork!

       Hey, the guy wants "crispy"~!  They should change the damn script!

 

YOU CAN'T SAY "GAY" IN TENNESSEE SCHOOLS, BUT LOCKED, COCKED, AND READY TO ROCK TEACHERS MAY BE ON THEIR WAY...

           Most sane people respond to horrific events with rational thought, hoping to find solutions designed to prevent similar tragedies in the future.  Most sane people aren't in the Tennessee state legislature...

           According to an article in this morning's The Tennessean (motto: "Bringing you a fresh new bundle of car ads and shopping flyers with every delivery!") a Volunteer State senator is proposing to arm Tennessee's teachers in the wake of the Sandy Hook shootings in Connecticut.
And because last November's voters here in Tennessee elected a Republican super-majority in both houses of the General Assembly, what crazy wants, crazy gets.

           Sen. Frank Niceley (R-Knoxville) wants to arm the state's teachers, although he hasn't exactly worked out the details on how that would be accomplished.  He's open to the idea of school systems hiring retired law enforcement or military personnel to serve as resource officers for every school, but isn't sure if teachers would be allowed to carry guns as they teach.
Details, details.  As long as someone is packing heat on every school campus, mission accomplished.

            These additional security costs will be factored into an education budget that is already producing results at the bottom, nationally... but why quibble over money when guns are the issue?  More guns equals more security, right?

            State Senator Jim Kyle (D-Memphis) is resigned to whatever the GOP majority decides to do, since they control both chambers of the legislature and the governor's office:

            "If Republicans want teachers to have guns, they will have guns."

            In the last session of our esteemed legislative body, a proposal to allow employees to keep weapons in the trunks of their cars at work was narrowly defeated.  The Republican caucus chairwoman who opposed that legislation was summarily defeated by a hand-picked NRA opponent in the last election, just to let everyone in the General Assembly know what to expect if they buck the big money gun lobby in Tennessee.  There won't be any buckers this year, that's for certain.

            The sponsors of the "guns in trunks" legislation have already stated that they intend to bring the issue back to committee in this session, regardless of mass shootings or public sentiment to the contrary.

            So readin', 'riting, and 'rithmetic will also include 'reload' and 'recoil' in our schools any day now.

             We're so proud...  We'll be the only state in the union where kids don't take an apple to the teacher, they'll take clips of ammo for the teacher's Smith and Wesson.