log (2006/04/14 to 2006/04/20)

Thought I'd just pop in and say Hi here in the ol' weblog, and maybe post some links and stuff.

I have late-night driving-kids-around duties this week, which means that I have more time that I could be writing in my weblog, but also that I'm sort of mostly too sleepy to.

Oh, well!

There've been birds singing in the mornings, outside the windows.

Another Sims story: One of Those Days, about the time Suzette Somnius trapped one of her Professors from college in her house when she went off to work.

From Metababy of all places again, news from the Front:

Negroponte also told TIME that three dozen or so of the worst al-Qaeda terrorists held in secret CIA prisons are likely to remain in captivity as long as the "war on terror continues." He added, "These people are being held. And they're bad actors. And as long as this situation continues, this war on terror continues, I'm not sure I can tell you what the ultimate disposition of those detainees will be." Negroponte's comments appear to be the first open acknowledgement of the secret U.S. detention system and the fact that captives such as Khalid Shaikh Mohammad -- involved in Sept. 11 or other major attacks on U.S. interests around the world -- may be held indefinitely.

Is that legal?

(I resist the urge to say anything clever around "bad actors".)

And from elsewhere on the Front:

"The OFAC requirements apply to all U.S. citizens. The law prohibits anyone, not just car dealers, from doing business with anyone whose name appears on the Office of Foreign Assets Control's Specially Designated Nationals list"

So watch who buys those old 8-tracks from you on eBay, eh?

Two of my favorite recent spam subject lines:

surprise bassoon

rebel dinosaur

Feel free to use them in your novels.

Quote o' the Day Number One: "Generally any pictures of naked women will be replaced by the bearded Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneerson".

And Number Two:

This gospel of Christ Jesus must be shared among men, and it should be coming out of our lips and thus spreading throughout the world, throughout all nations like a contagious disease.

Gotta admire the frankeness there. (I don't think it's a parody site.)

Of course for True Religion, you want the Heremetic Brotherhood of Luxor (which I looked up because I'm reading GURPS Cabal (There Is No Cabal)).

One more extensive bit of spam art:

Subject: eye-opener thong

thunderstruck to alloy but blind date, or
annexation the ages horse as bulk
watt! enlist as bookmaker are that as miffed pot the as somersault of dynasty halibut scent the moderator diminutive clash adverse tinker at fellow pert allege backdrop in celibate as
starchy banister, harmonization nutrient a! guide hope, is unacceptable overhand easy chair, megabyte infringe, the sand dune the footing powder room, habitually usefully, the urchin allegiance semen this an idiocy, locksmith

Arctic Circle and carbohydrate, quietly as leader
twilight, exam! miracle of egotism, the Gen. reassurance dispensary
understand but haywire sufficiency truce, shakily hairdo the interloper narrowly Soviet Union as amicably well-done a was seek, the bunch fluid ounce dirt-cheap on richly, crap to inscription the with protege, swat the corresponding rivet terrorize, grouping good-for-nothing a trenchant limerick this excluding and agreeably.! satirist was showpiece? entrapment to forehand,.

Can't beat that. (Relatedly, Ed points out an Utne Reader piece on splog poetry.)

All sortsa more stuff lined up wanting to be entered into the Great Conversation. But for tonight we'll just ask, How did it start?

A great site where one can enjoy the thought of a great mind long departed. Cheers for the good work!

... apart from writing on the sole of your slipper with a biro

ab ovo




with a bang

The Bicycle Pedaling Frog enjoys his Guatamanian hot chocolattice.

Which is delightfully confusing. (In the beginning was the TSA, and the TSA was with God? Or perhaps with Frog.)

The book slid off the shelf, and redirected a degree by his outstretched hand, fell corner-first onto his left big toe.

He admired the graceful path it took through the air, the smoothness of its passing across his hand, and the bright explosion of pain in his foot.

So good, so good.

All so good, he thought, and he pictured the smiling and chanting assembly sitting in the temple in the incense-laden air, the priestess on the mountaintop stretching her arms up toward the clouds and singing so good, so good. The kind faces of his teachers and his students, their soft hand-gestures and patient explanations of the perfection of the universe.

All so good, and all entirely imaginary.

"That's never bothered you before," the priestess said, leaning against the counter beside him, the long silk sleeve of her vestments pouring down liquid in the light.

"I know," he said, looking out the window, "the imaginary world is lovely. But it occurs to me that there might be something to reality as well."

"Do you think you would prefer reality?"

"I don't know. But if I did, wouldn't that be good also?"

She nodded.

"So good," she said. But he thought her eyes were sad.