Dangerous Stuff

Listening to the news is dangerous when sitting behind the wheel of one's car. I tend towards the road rage behavior.

God Almighty, why have you visited this plague of locuts upon my homeland? This plague of incompetent, self-serving, pencil-dicked rat-bastards suckling at the teat of Democracy while giving totalitarian dictatorships a financial blow job with my money? Oh god of mercy, make them explode with the retained bilious hatred in their souls. Make the shit in their cranial cavities ooze out of their tear ducts. May the IRS and GAO be struck by the lightning of courage (or intelligence) and bare these sticking leechs' souls for all to righteously judge. God of Justice, reveal the craven cowardice of these petty worms who cower behind the pile of American dead and the mountain of Iraqi corpses, all of whom were your children, created in your image. Hurl down the fire of fear upon those who are sucking the cock of Petroleum gods. Basically, blast into oblivion these cock-sucking mother-fuckers, these American Terrorizers who are fucking up the world. If you want to forgive them, God of Mercy, you're better than I am.

News from Baghdad: 32-ish Iraqis dead from confrontation with American soldiers. Hospital reports 1 woman and 2 children in the rolls of the dead. - gasp! shock! righteous indignation!

So, for the past 100 years women in the western world have been bitching and moaning about being treated like 2nd class citizens. For the past 20 years or so, American woman have incessantly and finally successfully battered at the doors of the Pentagon, demanding to be able to serve in the military without regard to their ovaries. But let a female be killed in a war zone, side by side with men and the media expects us to scream our protests about -gasp!- killing innocent women. Because, sure as shit, she couldn't possibly have been with the men attacking our people. She couldn't possibly have been another suicide bomber. She couldn't have been planting IEDs. She couldn't possibly have enough patriotism to defend her homeland from an invading army. Women don't do anything that, only evil, oppressive, politically deluded men!

It is so hard to keep from hating people.

I was watching a documentary on PBS last night while folding my laundry. It was about two photo albums which had been been taken in Auschwitz. The only photographic record of it's kind. One is 200+ pictures of about 6,000 Jews being off-loaded from trains, most of whom were - according to written records - all killed later that day. The other one is a personal album of one of the SS officers of just the perfectly ordinary things one puts in a photo album: picnics, co-workers, playing with your dog. Creepy seeing the 2 together. That said, the following program was on Nazi politicians and the occult. The voice-over comment mentioned 'the darkest hour of mankind' or something similar. I have heard this just too damn many times. Branding Hitler and the Nazi government as "the penultimate in evil" is just too pat; too convenient; too self-righteous. We want to believe this, because then we get to be the knight in shining armor because we helped destroy their government. Americans can then ignore how long the English and French were fighting before we jumped into it. Americans can especially forget how many Russians (and Germans) died on the Eastern Front. We don't want to mention that the Red Army rolled across eastern Europe. I've never heard any ordinary text book mention this; somehow the Russians just wind up dividing Berlin with us, without any mention as to how they got there.

If Hitler was the 'darkest hour of mankind', then who the fuck was Joseph Stalin?

Stalin? He killed more of his own people than the Jews under the Nazis.
1.7 million died in gulags;
0.8 million 'politically bad people' killed out of convenience and political expediency
6 million from a politically manifested famine;
7.5 million deported;
etc. A lot of etc.
basically between 3 and 20 million people (and 20 isn't the highest estimate) died. Even if you take out the famine, estimates also seem to range around 14 million or so. Some how I don't think killing 3 million of your own people is 'just a bad regime' - Saddam Hussein killing Kurds pales, just pales in comparison. Of course, Stalin didn't bother to keep track of them, or count them, like the Nazis. And Stalin dawdled around and did it over 20 years or so, rather than 2 or 3.

The USSR just doesn't rate any attention from the good old genocide-hating USA. They're bad. The Jews were good. And European. They deserve the attention of society. But not the bad Soviets.

And all of this is without leaving the 20th century.

God, wipe out our educational system and the media. We'd be better off as totally ignorant proles with no way of transmitting our own stupidity.

Isodopes

The recent hurricanes and gasoline issues are proof of the existence of a new chemical element. A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science!

The new element has been named Governmentium. Governmentium (Gv) has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 199 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312. These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction which would normally take less than a second to take over four days to complete.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of 4 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming "isodopes".

This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration.

This hypothetical quantity is referred to as Critical Morass. When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium - an element which radiates just as much energy as Governmentium, since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

Gotta love my new home

April 26.
Happy Anniversary. Have a snow storm!

Yup. Snow.

Who hires these people who "predict" the weather? Whatever oracle they're consulting needs a shot of juju. They are currently claiming: "The snow is ending, but chilly weather will remain. The weather service says the highs in the Twin Cities will only be in the mid 40s..."

I don't know which Twin Cities they live in. In mine, I'm staring out the window at an awful lot of snow in the air.

Though, admittedly, it won't do much here other than make the grass white. The few days of 65, 72, and 75ºF weather have warmed up the concrete enough to melt it all.

But .... "In Pelican Rapids today, they've got 18 inches of snow on the ground and, no doubt, dozens of suicidal pelicans about town."

And people wonder why Delta wants to keep their HQ in Atlanta (where its in the 70s).

Where's Home?

re: my home & my heart - this is an essay in response to a solicitation for stories about where exactly home is for you, given the modern view of a house as a piece of investment, a bank-account with a lawn.

I grew up getting moved around. Dad was in the Air Force. Divorce hit. Mom and us kids were in N.J. staying with my Grandmother. Her house, which had been the 'house on the shore' (New Jersey equivalent of the cabin on the lake) had been our wayfaring point as we moved. California, posted to Portugal. Go spend a few weeks at Grammy's en route. Move back to USA; spend a few weeks at Grammy's. Get divorced, spend ... well, you get the point. We'd go there once in a while from far away during the summer. It was the only anchor I felt at that age.

We moved to West Virginia. It was a dinky place on a farm, which burned down. The place, not the farm. We built our house there. A modern log cabin attached to a 250-year old log cabin. I learned how to use power tools, plumb, run electrical lines, you name it. (Being a woman, this has proved useful and impresses men.) It was going to be "home". I looked forward to finally having that 'home' you described on you video. Somewhere I could return for the holidays that would hold memories.

I grew up, went to college and moved to Michigan. Never really having a reason to leave, I bought a house with my husband, envisioning exactly what I had never had. The place my kids could grow up. I had a raised flower-bed in the back yard where I planted roses. The first one was a mother's day present from some friends in thanks for a bunch of 'mothering' for them, as I had no children at the time. One of my cats loved sleeping there, admidst the rose bushes. I loved the scent of the lilac bushes in the Spring.

My mom sold the farm. Without telling us kids. We were all disapponted; I think my brothers also had figured it would be that ‘home to come home to’. We’re scattered to the for corners of the globe (Wash.D.C., Mpls, L.A./New Zealand). We all wanted that ‘home’, especially my younger brother, who had no memory of ever living anywhere else.

Back in Michigan, I got divorced. I got the house. After so long (7 years), it had achieved that exalted state of "home". It wasn't expensive. It was in the blue collar part of Lansing. I liked it. I was coming back from a business trip one day, and was looking at the city as the plane descended. I saw my house. I realized it had become my home.

Unfortunately for 'home', I met my husband, who had come to Michigan for a short term job. We married. We had our first child. My cat still slept in the rose bushes in the sunshine.

My husband got a job in Minnesota.

I realized how much I had come to regard my home as a permanent fixture in my life when I had to leave it. I had lived there for 10 years. I had planned to live there the rest of my life, another 40 or so, god willing.

We're living in an apartment here in Hopkins, and have been for the past 3 years. I loathe it. It will never be 'mine'. Not because it's an apartment, but because I never planned to stay there long-term. We're moving into Minneapolis in a few weeks, into a rental duplex.

I have come to realize that renting a place is just fine for being "home". No, it will never achieve the 65-year edifice for my family. That's something I will probably never have, due to my husband's work situation. We are definitely in the “home is where the heart is”.

My cat died a few months after moving here. I was completely emotionally distraught. Partially because an 11-year fixture in my life died. Partially because I could never bury him in the rose bushes.

Since we weren't certain we'd stay in Minnesota, we didn't sell the place in Lansing. We rented it, figuring if his job here didn't become permanent, it would be better to move back to Michigan and be unemployed in our own home rather than be unemployed and homeless here. We still own it and rent it. It wasn’t expensive when I bought it. It’s still not. My heart hasn’t figured out for sure whether or not it’s still ‘home’.

Monetarily speaking, it has never occurred to me to view my residence as an investment, like so much stock to be sold in a favorable market. Moving is such a complete, total, and utter pain in the posterior! Above all, I would never do that to my kids. I want to give them what I never had, that fixture of ‘mom & dad’s house’. The place you still call home, despite having lived somewhere else for 30 years. Part of me mourns the fact that I will probably never be able to give it to my two sons. We might stay here in the Twin Cities. We might move to Germany [those being the two likely long-term employment options for my husband]. I want my boys to grow up with the emotional security of knowing ‘home’ is where the heart is. Because that geographical security is a delusion in today’s economy.

I hope this wasn’t too god-awful long for you. I do tend to be verbose writing a story.

I still think of my cat occasionally. Usually with him lying in the rosebushes on a sunny, summer day.

Best Place to Break Up in the Twin Cities

Best Place to Break Up
Winner: Science Museum of Minnesota

Listen, honey, it's just not working out. See, you're like this 4,000-year-old stone slab of cuneiform, the world's first written language: Your communication skills are primitive. Or you're like the "Deadly Medicine" exhibit about Nazi eugenics. You're a traveling exhibit in the museum that is my life. You're fascinating, I learned some neat things from you, but you were never meant to be a permanent part of my collection, sweetie. That's just the way life is. Our relationship is as dead as that Egyptian mummy over there. Let's go over to the Disease Detectives display downstairs. See, you're like a horrible microbe that ended up in my food after the chef at a restaurant didn't wash his hands. Now you're in my digestive tract, and I'm sick...of you. Really, really sick. You make me puke. And, well, I don't want to puke anymore. Is this making sense? Good. I'm going to see a mountain-climbing movie at the Omnitheater now. Stop crying, the kids on a fieldtrip are staring.

Like I could make this up?

The "best of" also included:
Best Place to Get Arrested for Soliciting Sex in Public -- Mpls/Stpl Lindburgh Terminal almost made it
Best State Fair Food -- walleye on a stick
Best Parking Lot
Best Silver Lining to the 35W Bridge Collapse
Best DMV (yes, they really mean the Dept. Motor Vehicles)
Best Speed Trap

You Owe Me, ... big!

Minnesota receives $6000 per capita of federal tax money. We're #48. Maryland gets > 9k; New Jersey & California get around $7k. Didn't someone tell them we're supposed to be a big pork producer? Oh, yeah, that 'pork' is the stuff coming from D.C.

Minnesota received 73 cents back for each dollar given in fed. taxes.

Basically, you're getting my taxes.

Maybe the folks in St. Paul figure they can afford to lose our federal highway funding when they lower the drinking age to 18?

the professional side of me

so most of you probably wonder 'what the hell does she do for a living?'. My classmates and I compared notes one day about the public perception of what an Industrial Hygienist is. We have had people wonder if we:

a) clean toilets
b) do something with teeth
c) tell people to wash their hands after handling food
d) try to keep businesses clean

The answer would be e) none of the above. [well, c might be correct, if we worked at a food processing plant] We did wonder who came up with the name. And where could be nail his feet to the floor.

There isn't even a really good mutually agreed upon definition within industrial hygienists. I usually answer that it's "work place safety" or "making sure my employees don't kill themselves on the job". Depending on the sense of humor of the person I'm addressing.

What am I doing in grad school? I'm getting a Master's of Public Health (MPH). Of course, this then brings up the image of somehow working the with public health department and inspecting restaurants. sigh ... so ...

If you are possessed of an urge to read more about the actual scope of Public Health, and whatever the hell it is an IH does, you can check out the Professional Me, and my equivalently professional interests at my other blog: gopherpublichealth.blogspot.com
. If you have no such urge ... well, don't bother.

More damn gophers. Yeah, I know, but it seemed the easiest way to make sure no one else had used it. And it's much shorter than Mountaineerpublichealth or elizabethtobiaspersonalinterestsinvariousaspects.
ofpublichealthandindustrialhygiene.blogspot.com

No guilt

My feet are up, and I'm watching TV with absolutely no guilt, no stress, no little voice whispering "you ought to be doing your homework!".

Just got done with one final exam (it was a short course). I finished both of my term papers, got all of my homework caught up. I fee so completely relaxed. I'd be happier if the hockey game was Detroit, rather than Calgary. A nice glass of scotch and a warm bed are calling me .... not the damned homework.

Sweet music to my ear

"According to the Secretary of State’s office, since January about 217,000 new voters have registered for the April 22 primary ..."

What sweet music.


I can hear the ballot boxes groaning beneath the weight of .... what? dissipating dreams of some American mutual self-delusion of prosperity and world domination?

Now, if only they'll all go vote.

Delightful reading

H.M.S. Surprise, Patrick O'Brian. This might perhaps make a good sequel to the "Master and Commander" movie. So far, there's death, sailing, politics, sailing, unpaid debt, sailing, 3rd world squalor, sailing, you get the drift. Despite any peons sung to O'Brian's work, he has a bizarre way of his character's speech sliding straight from A into B without warning or explanation. As an example of his delightful style, a description of Stephen's about a dinner he had just attended with Jack, who had noticed the women sitting near Stephen:

“The nymphs in green? Delightful girls.”

“It is clear you have been a great while at sea to call those sandy-haired coarse-featured pimply short-necked thick-fingered vulgar-minded lubricious blockhead by such a name. Nymphs, forsooth. If they were nymphs, they must have had their being in a tolerably rank and stagnant pool: the wench on my left had an ill breath, and turning for relief I found her sister had a worse; and the upper garment of neither was free from reproach. Worse lay below, I make no doubt. ‘La, sister,’ cries the one to the other, breathing across me - vile teeth; and ‘la, sister’, cries the other. I have no notion of two sisters wearing the same clothes, the same flaunting meretricious gawds, the same tortured Gorgon curls low over their brutish criminal foreheads: it bespeaks a superfetation of vulgarity, both innate and studiously acquired. And when I think that their teeming loins will people the East ... Pray pour me out another cup of coffee.”

The ellipsis is O'Brian's. Just "teeming loins" to "I'll have another cup of coffee, thanks".

2nd today

Did you know that exposure to many environmental toxins can result in sensorimotor periferal neuropathy?

[def.] Fucktard

The only person I've ever heard use this word before is Kevin ... So, this is for you, bro'

Last week, the state [that would be us, Minnesota] House's Ways and Means Committee, by a 13-4 vote, passed a bill that would allow chronically ill patients to use marijuana. It now moves to the House floor, leaving some wondering: Will it weather the fucktard vote?

Minnesota's fucktard demographic—though less vocal than in other states—remains a critical voting bloc. Comprised chiefly of law-and-order types, anti-science yokels, and perpetually nervous Caucasians, Minnesota's fucktard coalition has lobbied hard against the bill. An alliance of law enforcement associations has sent emails to legislators informing them that, as one fucktard put it, "our political action committees will be taking this into account when we deliver our endorsements."

Having already passed the Senate last session thanks to bipartisan support, the bill would go directly to Gov. Tim Pawlenty's desk upon passage in the House. Since the Republican VP slot requires vigilant fucktard-pandering on a national scale, Pawlenty has indicated he will veto the legislation. —Matt Snyders

Mostly I laughed because I kept hearing this in Kevin's voice - especially since I figure he'd probably agree [with the author, not the fucktard sitting over in St. Paul]

AARP Porno

Argument why age-of-consent-to-be-a-porn-star should be raised to 65.

"Young men would begin to think of sex as something their grandparents do to make a little cash and could put the energy they once used to search for porn on the Internet into fighting terrorism or curing cancer or pursuing more difficult quests on World of Warcraft.
Young women would once again be coddled and protected from having to make decisions that their unformed minds can't handle.
Grandma and grandpa would no longer have to worry how to pay for their prescription medications.
And if the terrorists no longer saw our country as being so decadent, perhaps they would finally leave us alone ..."

The original article spawning this amusement is at WSJ. Okay, so I think her argument is stupid. I like the grandparent-porn argument much better.

As the satirist points out, if a girl's old enough to go volunteer to get shot at in Iraq, who cares if she's flashin' some poontang for the camera? Some of us weren't stupid enough to do that, and don't need to worry about it haunting us the rest of our lives. Of course, we've done other monumentally stupid things, they just aren't on YouTube.

money money everywhere and not a drop to save

I happen to think several, if not most of these are really good ideas. The first doesn't strike me as particularly worth the effort, unless one starts off spending a lot to begin with.

I'm stupified that they didn't mention coupons under the buying groceries section. My grocery store lists 'savings' at the bottom of the cash register receipt. I had $28 once. Yes, admittedly it was a big shopping trip, but it was still worth the half hour I spent cutting & sorting the coupons. Even using that as an average per month, that's already $336/year.

While they mentioned credit cards and mortgage interest indirectly ... what wasn't mentioned is the stunning amount of money you can save by having a good credit score. Even doing something simple like paying off the credit cards every month will do wonders for this. OUr new landlord checked P's credit score and was stunned at how high it is. We bought him a (used) car after moving here, and bought it with a car loan. We could have paid cash. We chose the car loan for the explicit purpose of giving Peter a credit score (which he didn't have) Paying the car loan promptly on time every month obviously did wonders.

Curiously, they also didn't mention "just don't buy stuff". Do you really need that DVD? Or "don't buy expensive brands". Do you really need to buy Levi's rather than the store brand? [well, in my opinion, that is an obvious yes]. But, do you really need Nike Air Jordans? I really doubt it. Yes, there is a point where quality outweighs price. Next time I buy a refrigerator, I will be perfectly willing to not buy the cheapest. But shirts for growing grungy boys? Clearance at Target, baby!


As one interview-ee mentioned, I got our TV & DVD player 'free' from my credit card points. Out of curiosity, I check the list of 'stuff' I could get with the points I have now. What are they thinking? A signed baseball? Sure, lots might want it. But a copy of Introduction to Analytical Spectrometry? Personally, it might be interesting ... but, let's see - a chemistry book or a Canon Elf? mmmmmm, I'm pretty sure I've got enough books.

wow, did I do that?

After hearing some tutor at the library explaining 'verify', and using 'googling' as an easy method to do so, I was curious, and tried googling myself. Only Elizabeth Tobias out there that's me is one page with a record of application for a marriage license.


There are a zillion Elizabeth Smiths, and one of them might be me - I ain't gonna look, though. And, as an outside shot, I tried my other married name. I actually found this. I did the calligraphy (Chris did the illumination) for the SCA group. The original is probably 11 x 14 per page. It took a few seconds of looking at this before realizing that it was my artwork. It's also probably 12 years old.





I had a complete and total brain-fart this evening. I got out of class on time, and managed to catch the earlier bus. Waiting for my 2nd bus, I realized the express bus standing before me was going to the mall. I asked, and was assured it was going to the mall. Hop on, get there super-fast, and as we're pulling into the park & ride lot, my brain turns on. I'm at the wrong mall. There are no buses from there to where my car is, about 5 miles away. I enjoyed the pleasant evening air. It was even more enjoyable when I realized I had finally gotten to a point where my normal bus passes. Cop a squat and wait for the right bus. All I could think of was 'thank god this isn't February'. Of course, had it been, I would have called and asked for a pick-up, rather than just an 'hi, honey, I'm going to be later than planned'.

After being totally destroyed by the great Influenza, our home is generally biohazard-free. At least, we're back to the simple sniffles. I'm finally getting caught up with my school work. Still searching for a summer internship. Think I found an interesting project for my thesis.

ah, well, gotta go send out the resume and review the info for a class presentation tomorrow. oh, no, I'm going to have to dress nice. sigh ....

No Free Lunch

Well, so the Red Army - Dead Wings - Red Wings are doing fine in their search for the Stanley Cup. Of all the myriad stupid things that just piss me off recently --- see today's Doonesbury - the self-righteous, sanctimonious, pencil-dicked "Flag-Pin Patriots" just .... ooooooo ...... (pencils .... ?? I've never noticed a woman doing this, though no doubt they are)

sports involving violence are a pleasant respite for vicarious bloodshed

Checking on the day's scores, I noticed a story about the Ducks/Stars (Dorky-Name-Champions vs. What-the-Hell-Was-Minnesota-Thinking-Not-Champions). The commenter has the astonishing observation: "Stars have outplayed the Ducks and deserve to be within two wins of first playoff win in four tries".

There is No Free Lunch. There is no deserve in sports. You win. Or you lose. If you lose, you didn't deserve it.

This is up there with "but mom, I waaaaaant it". So, what's it like to want? I deserve a 4.0 on my grades, don't I? Ain't no way it's going to happen, though, is it?

The Dallas Stars? What was Minnesota thinking? Why can't they ditch the Vikings or Twins? They had a nice thing going with the names. Sell the hockey team to Texas???? Well, then they need a new name for the new, more expensive replacement. Minnesota Wild? When this is the "Etoil du Nord" (land of the north star). The state most assuredly isn't wild. (Unless you count the temperature changes in the Spring or the rates of bovine-TB.) Of course, I have no idea why the Detroit Red Wings got their name, especially since the pottery company here in Red Wing Minnesota has the same basic logo as the hockey team ...??

Ah, well, while I'm not going to get a 4-point, I would still like to not get a 2-point. So, back to the amazing wonders of cut-resistant gloves.

Great Flaming Fruit of the Looms!

I wish I could have found this in English.
The first "Olympic Torch" was the 'wonderful idea of Dr. Goebbles'. Yup, a PR move for the 1936 Berlin Games, to bring it from Athens to Berlin. The Greek Communists tried to keep the torch from reaching Germany (don't forget, the communists hated the nazis).

Far, far, far more amusing in the history of political/social protests surrounding the Olympics:

The Chair Leg and the Kerosene Soaked Underpants (no, shit, really):

In 1956, 9 Australian students stepped into the shoes of other protesters, in a rather different manner. As the Torch was briefly going through Sydney, one of the students, dressed in the olympic torch-bearer's garb, ran through the cheering spectators. In his hand was a torch. The students had painted a chair leg silver and attachted a pair of burning kerosene-soaked underpants. It was intended to be just a brief prank - but he then wound up with the honor-guard of the Sydney Police. At the end, he had to give the home-made torch to the mayor of Sydney, who made his speech with the silver-painted, underpants-combusting chair leg.

When the 'real' torch-bearer arrived, most of the onlookers had already gone home.

finally

I finally found how to describe what I do in German. Arbeitshygiene
Of course, Germans might very well look at me like Americans do when I say Industrial Hygiene. It was really so much simpler when the answer was Chemist. That at least elicited bubbling beakers and mysterious whiz-bang instrumentation. Or CSI. Or Frankenstein movies. Industrial Hygiene leaves them scratching their head and wondering if I tell people to wash their hands when handling food.
Though, Deutsche Gesellschaft fuer Arbeitshygiene sounds more formidable than American Chemical Society.

so, when I was a kid, the only place you'd ever see anything like this was the Harlem Globetrotters. What a beautiful shot (as in the photo, not necessarily the basket). I'm still staring and thinking 'wow'.

The not-so-Great Influenza

"Germs are not for sharing", according to Michael. Got that in one. Gregor's already had the flu, earlier this year. Now I got to join the ranks of stupendously sick people. I might say "I can't remember the last time I was this sick", except I do. 1994. I've spent the past 8 days knocked on my back, wondering how I was going to live through the next few hours. 8 days later, I'm wondering how I'm going to avoid failing all of my classes.

"Mama's asleep" became the most common thing I heard through the bedroom door. If I happened to be awake, which wasn't often. The poor boys (all 3). Today was the first time since last Thursday that I didn't feel like Death warmed over. The 8-day Flu weightloss plan seems to work wonders.

I knew I looked horrible Tuesday, when I had to go to campus to meet a project group, "just long enough to meet them and then leave" I told myself. I hadn't done any studying - and I mean none - for my occupational medicine final exam the next day. The walking zombie started meandering towards the parking area, when I passed my occ. medicine prof. At 10 yards, he took one look at me and said "I don't want to see you tomorrow." I guess having a physician for a prof isn't that bad in identifying "hey, you look dead!"

The boys are all healthy. I'm in the land of the living again. More sooner or later ...

and you thought they didn't care

Following the Minnesota Fantasy Legislature, my team sucks. Not the worst, but definitely no so hot. Though, I have spent more time paying attention to the Really Dumb Things the state government does than ever before (including back in Michigan).

The 'commissioner' had a live-blog coverage of the House Finance Bill debate today; pretty amusing quotations. Then the Speaker of the House wanders by and wants to know why he wasn't getting points for some environmental bill he'd authored. I'm stunned the Speaker of the House is even aware enough about some amusing thing MPR is doing. Although, I find it equally amusing seeing posts to the website from members of the State Senate.

Go write your representatives and tell them to keep funding the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (well, those of you in the States).