Los Simpsones

Far be it from me to promote Burger King, but they've popped up a web site that takes your uploaded photo and turns you into a Simpsons character. Here are the results from two different photos of mine -- the spitting image!

Roberts Remains Horribly Hale (Reblog)

Well, although I portray myself as a horrible Schadenfreudophile, I must admit that my heart started a leap for joy upon seeing the news headline that Chief Justice Roberts was hospitalized. Had fortune really smiled on our benighted country? Were the conservative Geheime Staatspolizei who are now ensconced in what used to be our highest court of law going to fall from majority?

Of course not. Drop once more to your bloody knees, my heart, no leaps for you! It is simply that Roberts is wealthy enough that he gets to go to the hospital when he trips at his 2 acre summer home.

UPDATE: Looks like it was slightly more serious than a fall. But not serious enough to save our civil liberties.

Kitchenarium Updates (Chow)

It has been a couple of hot, muggy days in Chicagoland, so I decided to make something cool and refreshing for dinner. I've updated the Kitchenarium's dill salad recipe with pictures from the result.
Moo

Kitchenarium Updates (Chow)

We made a mess of Indian food tonight, and I used the opportunity to update some early Kitchenarium recipes with photographs.

• ālū gōbhī
• capātī (We actually made puri, but the recipe is the same except for the deep-frying.)
• nāśapātī caṭanī
• vegetable korma

We also made saag paneer and lamb vindaloo, which I haven't put up recipes for yet.
A local ethnic grocery just down the street had some nice paneer; I think by this late date it is a pretty common cheese most anywhere.
We don't often make meat dishes, since over half of us are vegetarian, but with enough guests we sometimes tip over the edge. Sadly, I didn't remember to take any pictures of our elegant initial presentations. Instead I got shots of our ravaged service bowls when I was cleaning up.

Tivo HD (Reblog)

The Tivo HD is available now for ordering, a cheaper and very slightly stripped-down Series 3. It looks like it hits all of the high points except for the all-important transfer of lifetime membership from my existing Series 2. However, such an option becoming available has not been entirely ruled out. A prepurchased 3 year service contract doubles the price of the Tivo HD to about $600, still substantially cheaper than a contractless Series 3... But I just can't give up my lifetime subscription.

Getty Center (Recommendation)

Back from our little hiking vacation... It looks like the dogs didn't miss us nearly as much as the cats did.
Yesterday before flying back from Long Beach we squeezed in a visit to the Getty Center, which we'd never been to before. Their exhibitions ranged from astoundingly poor to decent, but the architecture was stunning. If only it had a better smogscape to vaunt over!

Duck Lake Trail

Today we went on a hike up to Duck Lake and back, a distance of about 10 miles and maybe 1,600 feet of elevation. The weather, as always this time of year in the Sierra Nevada, was beautiful.
The toughest part of the hike was the final ascent up Duck Pass, which consists of 30 switchbacks. Only the first several are visible here. The view back from the top is great, though.
Back from our day hike at our posh resort, we made some angel hair and an artisan bread -- I brought the ingredients up in a Ziploc.
The view from our Mammoth condo.

Paper Met-Something-With-Hoses (Recommendation)

Peter Callesen is a Danish artist who builds scenes out of paper, leaving his structures attached to their sheet of origin with the void their creation leaves stretched out like a shadow.
Some of his works are very simple. Some are astoundingly complex.

Kinetic Sculptures (Recommendation)

This video (with unfortunate audio) showcases a really cool kinetic sculpture by Arthur Ganson. His web site has a better, but less embeddable, video of the same device. Ganson's whimsical contraptions are even more hand-built than one might think, as he manufactures many of his own gears out of wire.

Doggie Bonding (Pets)

As time wears on, it looks like we somehow managed to make a good puppy selection for 'Dolon. They are getting along great in both phases of their relationship, biting...
...and sleeping.

Molpe 2007 Kill #6 (Pets)

This seems to confirm that Molpe no longer feels the need to bring such things into the house, which is a blessing. I do wonder how she finds the time to get her shrew-work done, as most of her day is spent upstairs meowing plaintively at a window since the puppy came home.

The Sucking Surge (Reblog)

Today is the 6 month anniversary of our surge in Iraq. What has it accomplished? Not much. Here's a list of some of the habitual liars, corporate whores, and various bought personages who would regret committing to even this minimal level of responsibility -- that is, if any significant media outlet would cover the news.

Let Túrin Rest In Peace

I've just finished reading The Children of Húrin. If you haven't read or didn't enjoy The Silmarillion, this isn't a book for you. If you did enjoy The Silmarillion, then The Children of Húrin has little to offer you that you haven't already read in chapter XXI of The Silmarillion and in Unfinished Tales' Narn i Hîn Húrin. The dry prose is actually harder to bear in this more drawn-out form. Give it a miss.

I suppose Christopher Tolkien was bound by available texts, but this story seems like an odd choice to want to expand upon -- Beren or Tuor might have been better selections.

PostSecret (Recommendation)

Every once in a while there is a card on PostSecret that really speaks to me. The PostSecret project collects postcards which people send in to its curator; the most interesting are published on the blog and some make it into its coffee table books.

Mag The Mighty (Pets)

Mag continues her meteoric rise to dominance. As you can see here, she is quite pleased with herself -- and is it any wonder why? She has accomplished a lot in her first week here.
She began by luring 'Dolon into a false sense of security with a little strategic snoozing. He's clearly not anticipating any trouble.
And when he least expected it, she launched her perfidious assault! 'Dolon out-masses her three to one, but she's clearly got the edge in ferocity.
After a prolonged struggle, here it is for the first time. 'Dolon submits to Mag the Magnificent, Mag the Masterful, Mag the Majestic!
'Dolon is lucky he still has a few laps hidden here and there where he can retreat and lick the oozing wounds of his badly injured pride. Perhaps, one day, he will rise again...

Comcasternet To Replace Internet (Reblog)

The FTC continues to operate as a corporate instrument without regard for its public responsibilities, as covered in Information Week. They are going to let telecoms charge websites for differential levels of access to their customers -- or even any access at all. Net neutrality is dangerous and "could stifle innovation".

It shouldn't come as a surprise, of course. In this new millennium, when has a government agency not sided with corporate profits against public interest?

If you have some time, try to Save the Internet.

Octosquid (Reblog)

A cephalopodophile's wet dream, the octosquid, was just pulled up off the coast of Hawaii.

Waterdogs (Pets)

Ah, if only I had pictures...

Today while playing in our yard, 'Dolon decided to run up behind Mag and push her in our pond. Our teeny weeny, algaed, snapping turtle filled pond. She can totally submerge in it, by the way.

Then he stood there at the pond while I helped poor Mag out. Staring into the waters. The gears of his mind slowly, slowly turning over. And he came to the realization that, if Mag could be in the pond, perhaps another dog could also be in the pond! And in he jumped.

So now I'm the proud owner of two really smelly dogs, with free access to the yard through a dog door and the knowledge that they can enter the pond.

Yay me!

Kitchenarium Updates (Chow)

Some updates from what we decided to eat this Independence day:

• succulent dry ribs (Unusual for us, a meat dish, made out of actual meat!)
  
• 5 minute ice cream

Mag Addenda (Pets)

I somehow left a Scylla photo out of our documentary of Mag's initial meetings with the household. Here is Scylla, resolving to destroy this new interloper by any means.
Here's a little scale information. 'Dolon is, of course, fixated on dominating Mag by cutting her off from the sun.

Finally, here's a little aborted tug of war clip. Apologies for our camera, which isn't really made to take movies.

Happy Fourth (Reblog)

This is a transcript (from Crooks and Liars) of Keith Olbermann's Special Comment on Libby's commutation. Olbermann is right, by this point Bush can never hope to rise to the level of President Nixon.

---

Finally tonight, as promised, a Special Comment on what is, in everything but name, George Bush’s pardon of Scooter Libby.

“I didn’t vote for him,” an American once said, “But he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job.”

That — on this eve of the 4th of July — is the essence of this democracy, in seventeen words.

And that is what President Bush threw away yesterday in commuting the sentence of Lewis “Scooter” Libby.

The man who said those seventeen words — improbably enough — was the actor John Wayne.

And Wayne, an ultra-conservative, said them, when he learned of the hair’s-breadth election of John F. Kennedy instead of his personal favorite, Richard Nixon in 1960.

“I didn’t vote for him but he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job.”

The sentiment was doubtlessly expressed earlier. But there is something especially appropriate about hearing it, now, in Wayne’s voice.

The crisp matter-of-fact acknowledgement that we have survived, even though for nearly two centuries now, our Commander-in-Chief has also served, simultaneously, as the head of one political party and often the scourge of all others.

We as citizens must, at some point, ignore a president’s partisanship. Not that we may “prosper” as a nation, not that we may “achieve”, not that we may “lead the world” — but merely that we may “function.”

But just as essential to the seventeen words of John Wayne is an implicit trust — a sacred trust:That the president for whom so many did not vote, can in turn suspend his political self long enough, and for matters imperative enough, to conduct himself solely for the benefit of the entire Republic.

Our generation’s willingness to state “we didn’t vote for him, but he’s our president, and we hope he does a good job,” was tested in the crucible of history, and far earlier than most. And in circumstances more tragic and threatening.

And we did that with which history tasked us.

We enveloped “our” President in 2001.

And those who did not believe he should have been elected — indeed, those who did not believe he had been elected — willingly lowered their voices and assented to the sacred oath of non-partisanship.

And George W. Bush took our assent, and re-configured it, and honed it, and sharpened it to a razor-sharp point, and stabbed this nation in the back with it.

Were there any remaining lingering doubt otherwise, or any remaining lingering hope, it ended yesterday when Mr. Bush commuted the prison sentence of one of his own staffers.

Did so even before the appeals process was complete…

Did so without as much as a courtesy consultation with the Department of Justice…

Did so despite what James Madison –at the Constitutional Convention — said about impeaching any president who pardoned or sheltered those who had committed crimes “advised by” that president…

Did so without the slightest concern that even the most detached of citizens must look at the chain of events and wonder:

To what degree was Mr. Libby told: break the law however you wish — the President will keep you out of prison?

In that moment, Mr. Bush, you broke that fundamental compact between yourself and the majority of this nation’s citizens — the ones who did not cast votes for you.

In that moment, Mr. Bush, you ceased to be the President of the United States.

In that moment, Mr. Bush, you became merely the President… of a rabid and irresponsible corner of the Republican Party.

And this is too important a time, sir, to have a Commander-in-Chief who puts party over nation.

This has been, of course, the gathering legacy of this Administration. Few of its decisions have escaped the stain of politics.

The extraordinary Karl Rove has spoken of “a permanent Republican majority,” as if such a thing — or a permanent Democratic majority — is not antithetical to that upon which rests: our country, our history, our revolution, our freedoms.

Yet our democracy has survived shrewder men than Karl Rove.

And it has survived the frequent stain of politics upon the fabric of government.

But this administration, with ever-increasing insistence and almost theocratic zealotry, has turned that stain… into a massive oil spill.

The protection of the environment is turned over to those of one political party, who will financially benefit from the rape of the environment.

The protections of the Constitution are turned over to those of one political party, who believe those protections unnecessary and extravagant and “quaint.”

The enforcement of the laws is turned over to those of one political party, who will swear beforehand that they will not enforce those laws.

The choice between war and peace is turned over to those of one political party, who stand to gain vast wealth by ensuring that there is never peace, but only war.

And now, when just one cooked book gets corrected by an honest auditor…

When just one trampling of the inherent and inviolable “fairness” of government is rejected by an impartial judge…

When just one wild-eyed partisan is stopped by the figure of blind justice…

This President decides that he, and not the law, must prevail.

I accuse you, Mr. Bush, of lying this country into war.

I accuse you of fabricating in the minds of your own people, a false implied link between Saddam Hussein and 9/11.

I accuse you of firing the generals who told you that the plans for Iraq were disastrously insufficient.

I accuse you of causing in Iraq the needless deaths of 3,586 of our brothers and sons, and sisters and daughters, and friends and neighbors.

I accuse you of subverting the Constitution, not in some misguided but sincerely-motivated struggle to combat terrorists, but instead to stifle dissent.

I accuse you of fomenting fear among your own people, of creating the very terror you claim to have fought.

I accuse you of exploiting that unreasoning fear, the natural fear of your own people who just want to live their lives in peace, as a political tool to slander your critics and libel your opponents.

I accuse you of handing part of this republic over to a Vice President who is without conscience, and letting him run roughshod over it.

And I accuse you now, Mr. Bush, of giving, through that Vice President, carte blanche to Mr. Libby, to help defame Ambassador Joseph Wilson by any means necessary, to lie to Grand Juries and Special Counsel and before a court, in order to protect the mechanisms and particulars of that defamation, with your guarantee that Libby would never see prison, and, in so doing, as Ambassador Wilson himself phrased it here last night, of you becoming an accessory to the obstruction of justice.

When President Nixon ordered the firing of the Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox during the infamous “Saturday Night Massacre” on October 20th, 1973, Mr. Cox initially responded tersely, and ominously:

“Whether ours shall be a government of laws and not of men, is now for Congress, and ultimately, the American people.”

President Nixon did not understand how he had crystallized the issue of Watergate for the American people.

It had been about the obscure meaning behind an attempt to break in to a rival party’s headquarters; and the labyrinthine effort to cover-up that break-in and the related crimes.

But in one night, Nixon transformed it.

Watergate — instantaneously — became a simpler issue: a President overruling the inexorable march of the law. Of insisting — in a way that resonated viscerally with millions who had not previously understood — that he was the law.

Not the Constitution.

Not the Congress.

Not the Courts.

Just him.

Just - Mr. Bush - as you did, yesterday.

The twists and turns of Plame-Gate, your precise and intricate lies that sent us into this bottomless pit of Iraq; your lies upon the lies to discredit Joe Wilson; your lies upon the lies upon the lies to throw the sand at the “referee” of Prosecutor Fitzgerald’s analogy… these are complex and often painful to follow, and too much, perhaps, for the average citizen.

But when other citizens render a verdict against your man, Mr. Bush — and then you spit in the faces of those jurors and that judge and the judges who were yet to hear the appeal — the average citizen understands that, sir.

It’s the fixed ballgame and the rigged casino and the pre-arranged lottery all rolled into one — and it stinks. And they know it.

Nixon’s mistake, the last and most fatal of them, the firing of Archibald Cox, was enough to cost him the presidency.

And in the end, even Richard Nixon could say he could not put this nation through an impeachment.

It was far too late for it to matter then, but as the decades unfold, that single final gesture of non-partisanship, of acknowledged responsibility not to self, not to party, not to “base,” but to country, echoes loudly into history.

Even Richard Nixon knew it was time to resign

Would that you could say that, Mr. Bush.

And that you could say it for Mr. Cheney.

You both crossed the Rubicon yesterday.

Which one of you chose the route, no longer matters.

Which is the ventriloquist, and which the dummy, is irrelevant.

But that you have twisted the machinery of government into nothing more than a tawdry machine of politics, is the only fact that remains relevant.

It is nearly July 4th, Mr. Bush, the commemoration of the moment we Americans decided that rather than live under a King who made up the laws, or erased them, or ignored them — or commuted the sentences of those rightly convicted under them — we would force our independence, and regain our sacred freedoms.

We of this time — and our leaders in Congress, of both parties — must now live up to those standards which echo through our history:

Pressure, negotiate, impeach — get you, Mr. Bush, and Mr. Cheney, two men who are now perilous to our Democracy, away from its helm.

And for you, Mr. Bush, and for Mr. Cheney, there is a lesser task.

You need merely achieve a very low threshold indeed.

Display just that iota of patriotism which Richard Nixon showed, on August 9th, 1974.

Resign.

And give us someone — anyone – about whom all of us might yet be able to quote John Wayne, and say, “I didn’t vote for him, but he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job.”

Good night, and good luck.

English Is Hard

So this morning I ran out to the store to buy a few things for the day, among them a slab of ribs NDM is going to prepare. These ribs turned out to be an item priced by weight but without a total price stamped on them, so the teen cashier had to ring up the total herself -- but she didn't know how. The young adult bagger came over to help, and they pounded away at the register for about 2 minutes and then phoned for help. A mid-20s lady came by and they let her take a stab at it for a few minutes. Finally they called for another teen pushing around empty carts who, they told me, knows everything about the register system.

Well, I've been standing around patiently for almost 10 minutes by this point so I lean over to look at what they are doing. I see a button in the corner labeled lboz which they aren't using, and ask if that is connected to the scale in some way.

Why would that possibly be connected to the scale, they want to know. Well...lb for pounds, oz for ounces, of course. Not the most brilliant user interface ever designed, but it seems fairly likely.

They ask me what I'm talking about, so I reiterate that lb is an abbreviation for pounds, and oz for ounces. But, I am told, lb is not an abbreviation for pounds, there aren't even any ls or bs in pound at all!

I didn't bother to explain about libra pondo, but they decide to try my suggestion anyway, and lo and behold I can actually go home with my ribs.

These cashiers ranged in age from maybe 16 to perhaps 25, and none of the four had been taught in school or, and this is the part I really can't believe, encountered in their employment, the standard abbreviation for pound. Let's hear it for No Child Left Behind!

Mag (Pets)

We have a new member of our household today, Mag Maxson-Mylniczenko. She is ostensibly a shepherd-lab mix, born March 25, 2007. Her bioengineering is mostly complete except for her rabies and her final lepto, parvo, and distemper boosters; soon she will be invincible.
She's still too zonked from the vet to resist our unprovoked cuddling...really, truly zonked.
She's already met 'Dolon several times at the shelter, so we knew they would get along...
Molpe is another kettle of fish entirely.
Presumably her residual drugs are what makes her vaguely uninterested in food. If she maintains that attitude, she might end up being 'Dolon's evil twin.
(Note biscuit on right paw :-)

Molpe 2007 Kill #5 (Pets)

It is hard to keep track of Molpe kills this year because, in her infinite mercy, she has decided to stop bringing them inside for us. Thank you, Molpe! Today she brought one close enough for counting, though, dropping the shrew on our patio and serenading us with her victory meow.
More protein for Hagar! Here Molpe basks in her post-kill glory.

Hippiekitty (Pets)

Molpe was really excited to see us return from our weekend trip, but she was even more excited that we did some late afternoon work in the back yard. This gardening resulted in the uprooting and crushing of some of her favorite cat drugs.

These days Molpe is pretty dependent on catnip, catmint, or pretty much any of the herbs that go into Old Bay. The problem is she has been deprived of her weekly dose of synthetic mouse for too long -- going on two years now. Real rodentia can soothe her briefly, but she really craves these tiny plastic rattling cones covered with felt and leather with a tiny twitchy rawhide tail.

There are many, many different types of cat toy mice, but only one particular type has ever satisfied her. If it doesn't rattle, or the rattle is the wrong pitch; if it has nylon or Orlon synthetics; if the tail is made of fabric; if it has rope wrapped around it; if the eyes are felted instead of hard red plastic pegs; if it is too large or too small; if there is no black plastic peg for the nose; if it doesn't have tiny little felt ears; she can detect any slight difference and reject the impostor toy.

This is a problem, since as far as we can tell her dream drug mouse is no longer manufactured.

There are one or two types that are close enough approximations that she'll play with them for a few minutes. With her desired mouse toy, she'd bat and chase it around for up to an hour before settling down to devour every last little non-plastic bit of it, leaving behind nothing but a heavily macerated plastic shell with little rattling beads leaking out of it and three scattered nose and eye pegs.
This last week she broke into a cabinet where we store our substitute mice, and this was the result. Isn't it sad? She ate the tails and then gave up trying to get her buzz on. It makes you want to cry. Is it any wonder she's had to turn to harder drugs?

Packed Dog (Pets)

This weekend we visited my parents in Iowa City and relieved them of some plants and brick-a-brack. It was a tight squeeze, with 'Dolon's broken-down crate, a rocking chair, and a quilt rack providing the framework on which to hang various framed pictures, clothes, vases, towels, cookware, ceramic frogs, blankets, objets d'art, ornamental tables, and about 20 gallons of greenery. 'Dolon ended up ensconced within part of his half-crate with a crow's nest's view of our car and nowhere to move at all.
He was really a very good boy on this entire trip. Little does he know that in two more days his position as puppy-of-the-house will be usurped! What do you think of that, 'Dolon?