Storms

Something about storms I really enjoy. Yes, I am aware of the destruction they can cause, but sometimes you have to stop and marvel at the beauty of them, the images that are produced. From the colors that reflect off their underside, to a funnel about to reach down and touch the earth, they are beautiful, terrifying and mesmerizing, all at once.

So, here are some of my favorite pics. Stomrs, in all their mean, nasty and beautiful glory:

Rules For Dating Daddy's Little Girl

RULE ONE:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a carton of beer, because you're sure not picking anything up.

RULE TWO:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

RULE THREE:
am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

RULE FOUR:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

RULE FIVE:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'

RULE SIX:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

RULE SEVEN:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

RULE EIGHT:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool, places where there is darkness, places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies that feature chain saws are okay. Cricket games are okay...Old folks homes are better.

RULE NINE:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

RULE TEN:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Can't Blame A Guy

No matter who you are.... your wife will give you hell for looking at other women...

21 Economic Models Explained With Cows

SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.

COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk.

FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.

NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away...

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.

SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.

A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market it worldwide.

A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.

A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.

A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.

AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
No-one believes you, so they bomb the shit out of you and invade your country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy...

A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.

AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive...

My Mind At Work

My mind works in weird ways.

I have often wondered how to express this in picture format, but I don't really know how. Now, if I was a digital picture-making dude like Doug, then maybe I would know how. But, for now, all I have is the good old World Wide Web.

Thus, the following are a few good examples of the innards of my brain at various stages of my day or life. You may note that there are several storm or explosion-related pictures. It's not because I am an angry man (and I hear that a little too often to be comfortable with...), more I see that as my synapses exploding into action with thoughts or ideas.......

Hmmm, intriguing. But, once you witness all the above, you may ask yourself, do I ever relax? Why yes. Sometimes. And when I do, the soundtrack just may be "Comfortably Numb":

That's it for today. Maybe more tomorrow. Maybe not.

Road Rage etc...

So, here I am, now a mellower man, thinking about driving.

What makes me think this way, you might ask? The answer lies below. But in the meantime, here's a bit of context.

When I was a younger fellow, all I could think about was getting anywhere in a hurry. That's right, put me behind the wheel and I want to get there. Fast. And there I would be, zipping through traffic, left, right, left again until I got to where I was going.

But now? I'm much more mellow when it comes to driving. Partially because now I realise that hell, why hurry? You're going to get there in the end. And partially because, if I now choose to hurry, then I can make a rash decision and get pulled over. And with my current record (thanks, stupid DWI), things could be much worse... So, there I sit in traffic, actually enjoying now watching those harried individuals trying to get there fast.

Case in point, on the way home this evening, a VW Rabbit GTi (sweet little car, I must say) comes flying up on Hwy 96 through Shoreview, in an apparent hurry. Me? I just take a look at his car, take a look at the driver (cap on backwards, total Abercrombie & Fitch douchebag), take a look at the radar detector on his dash (can someone please tell me how these are not illegal in this country???), and say to myself, "Fuck you buddy..."

But. And here's a caveat.

For all those clown-asses who think it's cool to drive 5 - 10mph below the speed limit, here's what I would like to introduce...

Now, I'm a red-blooded, perhaps a little red-necked, NASCAR fan, and in particular, I like the short track races, a mile or less long, wherein one of the tactics used to get ahead is the good ol' bump n' run. That's where they come up behind in a turn and tap the driver in front out of the way, thus sending them up the racetrack and advancing one or more spots on the board.

I would like to implement this in real life. For those of you choosing to dilly-dally at the corner of 10th St and Washington at Seven Corners, I would like to give you the old bump from behind, thus getting you out of the way, through the light that, well hell, it's a free right turn and last time I looked there was no oncoming traffic anyay, and allowing me to get on my merry way.

Case in point:

See how effective it can be? And with absolutely no harm to any other individual (though if you do indeed wish to argue the point, let's see you do it over the barrel of an M4 carbine...)

The Decline Of Common Courtesy

Question: Weren’t we all brought up by our parents with a sense of manners? Let’s have a look at the originations of the word “Courtesy”…

n. pl. cour·te·sies

Polite behavior.
A polite gesture or remark.
n 1: a courteous or respectful or considerate act 2: a courteous or respectful or considerate remark 3: a courteous manner [syn: good manners] [ant: discourtesy]

adj.
Given or done as a polite gesture: paid a courtesy visit to the new neighbors.

Interesting. What this tells me is that good manners and courtesy are irrevocably linked. Now, getting back to the question of people’s upbringing, then why do we not see courtesy extended a bit more?

I’ll give you some examples of what I am seeing, as served up to me during a typical work day.

So, driving to work. Guy on my tail. Close. How about doing me the courtesy of backing off, therefore allowing yourself some time to actually apply the brakes and come to a full and complete stop if I so happen to apply my brakes in the attempt to come to a full and complete stop, you don’t run on into me…

Or, another example of discourtesy whilst driving is the fun you have merging into traffic. Now look, when I am coming off a ramp to busy traffic, do you expect me to come to a stop until a gap opens up? Just bide my time? Nope, in the efforts of smooth traffic flow, if I put my signal on and there’s room for me to pull my car into traffic, don’t speed up just to stop my getting in… I mean, c’mon pal, what’s the point there? So you can get to where you’re going one car-length faster than you would have if you let me in front of you? Oh, and by the way, what’s with the bird you’re flipping at me? Um, no need for road rage here.

Alrighty then, now I’m in the flow of traffic, merrily driving my way to work, sipping my coffee, listening to the morning show on some idiotic radio station or other (except Drive 105 that is – shout out to the Twin Cities Alternative…), look out to one side or the other and watch the car/truck/SUV slowly slide into my lane. Why? Because they’re on the cellphone. Therefore, please do me the courtesy of PUTTING THE FUCKING PHONE DOWN AND PAYING ATTENTION BEFORE YOU DRIVE MY ASS OFF THE ROAD!!!

Pet peeve, sorry.

You know what gets to me at work? Elevators. Now we have ones here that, instead of getting in and pressing the floor you want, you actually select it outside and it tells you which one to go to. Pretty smart. But picture this – two people are waiting for the elevator, Person A is getting out on the fourth floor and Person B is getting out on the seventh floor. That means that two floors are displayed as being selected for destinations. So, as A gets in they quickly whip around and press the door close button before you even get in, even though it clearly shows that someone else has pressed a button and is going to get in. So, as the doors close on Person B’s arms, Person B can quite coolly level a glare at A that would make a raisin shrivel.

Sometimes it is not that obvious though, such as when B is walking behind A and they both get in, and A just reaches out and backhands the button. This befuddles me, since it is clear that I am not… um, I mean, Person B is not a Ninja, capable of cutting his way through the night silently and deadly, totally undetectable. Nope, Person B is an average everyday 6 foot 1 inch 200lb male who sometimes shuffles his feet and makes noise. So when B eludes the snapping doors and gives the old “Thanks for holding the elevator for me” comment, and in turn gets the lame-ass “Oh, didn’t see you there”, you know it’s bullshit.

Once again, does this discourtesy help you get to lunch or wherever you are going that much more quickly? The best part is when the above-referenced door-closing and subsequent tête-a-tête occurs then the elevator stops at each floor to let people on. Ha! Let’s see you rush now pal (and you know who you are…).

Oh, what about the people who walk in as you’re getting out? That’s when you square your shoulders, angle your way in front of them, and as they bump into you or brush you aside, you give them the old “Excuse me…”, usually accompanied by a glance over the shoulder or something like that.

That probably doesn’t sound too good, almost like I’m angling for physical contact bordering on violence, but that’s not the case. It’s just the old bump n’ run, make you aware of what you did tactics. Nothing serious here, and all can be excused away. But, it will get the person’s attention.

Do you ever hold doors open for people either behind you or coming through in front? Nope? Why not? There’s another peeve – you’re one step behind someone and they can’t be nice enough to just hold the door for that extra second for you. I have a rule – I call it the “Three Step Rule”, meaning that if you’re more than three paces behind I will atleast give the semblance of holding it open, but not really. Otherwise, if you’re within range, you get the door held for you. And please say “Thank You’ – that’s good manners.

What about walking down a corridor or aisle at work, at the grocery store, in church, I dunno, pick a place that has aisles and apply here… two, three, more people walking one way abreast. Do you think they can at least move so someone coming the other way can get past them? Uh huh. What if they stop for a conversation? How many times do you have to say “Excuse Me” before you’re heard?

Ah well… Anyhow, those are just some of my peeves. Since I thought about putting all this down in the electronic ether I have noticed this more and more. C’mon people – have some respect for your fellow human beings, and treat us in the way you would like, nay demand (and you do, very vociferously I may add), to be treated.

It isn’t too much to ask.

One final thing – when you’re talking to a woman, no matter how “nice” her “figure” might be, look at her eyes, okay? There ya go.

Independence Day - Not Quite As Planned, But...

So, for the second year in a row, my plans went awry for celebrating America's Independence. Instead of going to a big fireworks display over White Bear Lake, we ended up having our own - if not exactly over the St Croix River, then at least beside it...

But you learn to roll with the punches and I kinda geeked myself out with some of the settings on the camera...

Here's Jon & Shirley's boat a.k.a. the Party Palace anchored jsut north of Catfish Bay on the Wisconsin side of the St Croix - lots of diving, swimming, moderate amounts of imbibing, tons of fun:

Some of the fireworks my Brother-In-Law brought for us...

Gretchen enjoying a sparkler...

Ahhhhh, nice. I like the way the "Fireworks" setting kinda time-lapses the picture. Only roblem is the shutter takes so long to close and you have to stay so still, sometimes they kinda shake out. Maybe invest in a tripod?

But, then to our delight, it turns out that some bigwig from Putnam Investments was having a proper demo from St Mary's Point. That's about 1/2 to 3/4 mile upriver on the Minnesota side, so excuse the shake and lack of zoom, but I like the reflection on the water...

Looks like we all had a great day... Hope you did too.

L-R: Corson, London, Jasper, Shirley, Kristine, Gretchen, Joerg, Mary, Jon

p.s. - WTF is Jon doing? Looks like he got some cordite up his schnozz...

Happy 4th of July pt 2 - Gratuitous Patriotism

Heh heh heh...

Happy 4th Of July

So, in case I don't get back here in the next few days, here's a few 4th of July and/or fireworks vids I share for you:


Ahhh, the joy of youth.

I plan on building one of these in my backyard on Friday:


Why not? After all, I do enjoy beer, cigarettes and NASCAR while listening to K102 while wearing a wife-beater and jorts. This just seems the next logical step...

Oh, and here's an example of how to celebrate in Iraq... OK, not really, but all-in-all a pretty impressive fireworks/ammo dump mortar explosion chain-reaction display:


Now this is what I'm talking about - Boston 2006:


By the way - please note the fuckin' sweet Neil Diamond. How patriotic is that?

Greatest Use Of A Song In A Movie's Opening... Ever!

You know the song, the one that sets up the movie right from the start, that sticks in your head, that makes you think of the movie every time you hear it?

For some people it's "Accidentally In Love" by Counting Crows from Shrek 2. For others it may be "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins from Top Gun. Both completely valid, I admit.

But for me, if you can sit through the first minute or so, here it is:


Please keep the scoffing and laughter to a minimum. Thank you.