Speaking of Liberals: Yes, I shave my legs…

When’s the last time you pooped your pants?  Come on.  Don’t lie.  I mean as an adult.  I’ll just say this.  It’s how I found out that for me it’s just my body’s way of telling me, “Hey.  You’re allergic to shrimp now.”

“Wait, body.  Are you sure?  Because I just ate about a pound of tiger prawns and I don’t think there are any facilities nearby.”

“Really?  Well then…”

“So you’re saying I should head home now.  Like right now.  I wanted to talk to this young lady here and…”

“Yeh, now would be a good idea but you probably won’t make it home.  I mean, you’ll make it home alive.  Just not with  your dignity intact.”

“Hm.  So it’s like that, huh.”

“Yeh.  It’s like that.  Hey.  At least now you know.  Hey, what do you think the chances are you don’t run into your ridiculously attractive neighbors while you try to make your way up the flight of stairs to your door?”

“Nice.  That’s helpful.  Oh grrrreat!  Traffic jam.”

“Yeh.  It’s the perfect storm.”

Not sure why I thought of that.  Oh.  Yes I do know.  I was so muddy from biking last night that I basically had to do one of those emergency clean ups.  Straight into the shower, clothes and all.  Oh.  Definitely getting into TMI territory.

Culinary Heresy

I am a genius, by the way.  Friggin’ genius!  Hop Hound Amber Wheat + Famous Dave’s (way too) sweet tea + a touch of lime juice = something similar in taste and texture to one of those 10% Belgians.

That has nothing to do with my opening salvo, by the way.

I mix things all the time.  Come up with some good stuff every now and then.  Sometimes embarrassing, but still good.  The Naked Juice Mango smoothie plus burgundy is still one of my favorites even though anyone I’ve introduced it to looks at me like I’m an idiot.  Like, “What is this?  What?  Fruit juice?  And wine??  I don’t know about that.”

To which I reply, “If you were at a bar or restaurant, you’d call it a sangria or a fancy name with “sunset” in it and pay $8 for it.”

The way it naturally striates visually and flavor-wise.

I’m afraid of China

Also unrelated, I ordered some boxers via Amazon.  “Satin” polyester.  Ah, luxurious comfort.  Apparently, they’re made in China which made me insist on washing them first.  But still.  I worry.  Goodbye, healthy sperm count.  Not that I count anything.  I just round up.

Man, I’m giddy with hunger.  Hold on.  Got some tilapia fillets a-brewin’.

The latest Israel/Palestine … stuff

What is wrong with people?  I’m so sick of this bull mess.  I’ve heard some of the most conservative and most liberal shows and commentators talk about this and it dawned on me that people just don’t care about reality.

To hear the Israeli ambassador, who had an American English accent which threw me, on the Diane Rehm Show the boats that tried to break through the embargo were anti-Israel terrorist-affiliated combatants.

To listen to, say, Flashpoints on KPFA you’d think that the Israelis are a demonic force bent on genocide.

I realized that if you rely on ideologues you can’t know the truth.  They’re not interested in the facts, really.  Only the facts that support their views and entrenched beliefs.  Their minds are not based in reality.  Almost, but slightly skewed.

Oddly, Pat Robertson on the 700 Club said that the Israelis had made a huge blunder by, my words here, being so heavy handed and basically focusing on domination as opposed to winning public support.  In essence, he was saying that they fell into this trap of behaving as if they’re fighting a conventional war.  That was actually reasonable.  Go figure.

When I listen to the Pacifica network — and thank goodness for them — I get weary.  It’s so whiny.  Just like Patton Oswalt said about NPR.

Whiny isn’t really the right word.

Oh.  You’re still here?  Sorry.  I got distracted watching Patton Oswalt YouTube videos.  Anyway.  Whiny isn’t the right word.  It’s … theater.  It’s drama.  It’s manufactured albeit authentic outrage.  They thrive on misery.  It’s like they wake up in the morning looking for something to be outraged about and to spread their indignation.  It’s like they’re most satisfied when they have something to be angry about.  It’s disturbing to listen to.

You also get a hint at the egos involved.  I forgot what I was listening to the other day, but it was all about “me”.  I’ve done this and that and I’ve seen this and I was there when….  I martyr myself for you.  The righteousness of the self.

This is not to say that they don’t do good work.  They break stories that need to be broken and provide information and viewpoints that you won’t get anywhere else.  Say what you will, NPR is so dang corporate along with its dry, droll wit.  There are limits to what they’ll say and they won’t “take sides” on an issue — they’ll go for balance as opposed to the truth.  All of their interviews are softball interviews with no challenging or pressing.  They need to take some notes from the BBC.  They’ll try to get some substance out of you.

On one hand, Israeli commandos stormed a group of ships trying to break the Israeli embargo of Gaza.  One of the ships people resisted, violence ensued, nine protestors were shot and killed.  These were not raving Jihadist terrorists, by the way.  I can’t say whether or not they were sympathetic to any of the violent anti-Israel organizations.  Maybe some were.  A lot of them weren’t.  There were people from all walks of life on those boats.  The youngest was a baby.  The oldest was 88.  There was a former U.S. congressman, I think, on one of them.

The goal was to get humanitarian aid into Gaza.

The people on the boats trying to run the blockade, as it were, sent transmissions beforehand saying that their intent was peaceful.  The communicated beforehand who they were, in some cases who was on board, and what they were bringing.  The info was actually posted on the internet before they left for Gaza, if I have my facts straight.  “This is who we are and this is what we’re bringing and this is where we’ll be.”

Granted, Israel can’t necessarily just accept someone’s word that a few ships aren’t carrying any weapons.  So I can see them stopping or otherwise deterring the ships, which they did for all but the biggest.  They overreacted, jumped the gun in international waters no less and killed 9 people.  Unnecessary violence and unnecessary deaths.

Some of the people on other boats had coaching in anti-violent resistance.  They were knocked around but no one died.  I have no idea why the people on the biggest boat resisted the way they did.  It’s just not a good idea to attack highly trained, heavily armed soldiers.

So … you know.  I don’t know all the facts.  All I know for sure is that the few facts that we do know are being twisted mercilessly in blatant attempts to influence public opinion.  And those doing so should be ashamed of themselves.

I’m so tired of this childishness.  It’s the heartache of the world and threatens to draw us further into war, death, destruction and poverty of a kind.

Two more things

Two questions.  Unrelated.

What does it mean when someone nails a dried fish tail to a door, wall or post?  What culture is that from?

If you work at an apartment complex, let’s say, is it appropriate for you to drive around blasting “Pop that P—-“?  I know I’m a little straight-laced, but that just seems … I’d be embarrassed.

The Shaving

Yes I do shave my legs.  I figured I’d just put this out there because you will see evidence of this if you see me this summer.  Well, sometimes I do.  I can’t say I recommend it.

If you’ve ever suffered from road rash you’ll understand why.  You know, crash while riding a bike or even running and get a sizable abrasion on any part of your body where hair grows.  I once had a bad and embarrassing wreck while mountain biking — trying to keep up with someone I shouldn’t have been trying to keep up with.  I sailed over the handlebars and landed bodywise on the packed dirt trail — in front of a group of people, of course.

I was okay but when I stood up both of my knees were bloody.  They would have been more bloody but they were also covered with dirt.  It took weeks for it to stop burning and every time I bent my knees there were be hair ripping across the moist, raw, pink layer of skin and any scabbing.  After about four weeks I finally went to the campus health clinic (at College Park).  The doctor told me that it was actually healing quite well and she gave me some bacitracin and cleaned them.  Roughly and thoroughly.  It took another three weeks for the skin to grow back.

This is something  you want to avoid.

Plus once you start it’s hard to stop because of the itching.  Oy.

I didn’t enjoy the hair aspect of puberty, I have to admit.  Maybe that’s got something to do with it.  You know, I didn’t wear shorts from the 6th grade until a year after I graduated from high school.  The only time I did was in gym class when I didn’t have a choice and forgot to bring sweatpants.  Not until I met the soccer jocks at the court.

I would play soccer in jeans, sweats or even corduroys but I would not wear shorts.  I didn’t own any.  I had to cut the legs off of a pair of sweats when I decided that I didn’t want to play soccer on an asphalt court on a 95 degree summer day.

Brown Pelicans

How come birds don’t know to avoid oil slicks?  I mean, when they’re fishing they’ll just go right in.  I guess it doesn’t stink to them?  They can’t see it?  Its’ a damn shame, is what it is.

A little stream of consciousness, America.  That’s all I have.  How not to waste another weekend.

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