I certainly hope that everyone is registered to vote, and is planning on voting when the time comes. However, on the off chance that you’re not registered yet, you can now do so through Howard Dean’s website.
(via Zephyr Teachout)
Enthusiastically Ambiverted Hopepunk
I certainly hope that everyone is registered to vote, and is planning on voting when the time comes. However, on the off chance that you’re not registered yet, you can now do so through Howard Dean’s website.
(via Zephyr Teachout)
Got a question that only an elf could answer? If you’re in Minneapolis, stop by and ask Mr. Little Guy.
Four-year-old Shira Rabkin wanted to ask just the right questions, so she thought long and hard.
“Dear Mr. Little Guy,” she finally scrawled in big letters across a sheet of paper. “Do you like mints?” After some more pondering, she added, “and going to Camp Snoopy? Love, Shira.”
Mr. Little Guy was nowhere in sight this early August evening, so Shira stuffed her letter behind his door at the base of a hollowed out ash tree. It’s always open, and always full – of letters, pens, flowers and coins.
The elusive elf has enchanted Twin Citians ever since the 6-inch wooden door appeared eight years ago, just off a walking path around popular Lake Harriet. Double takes led to messages, and messages to answers – and somehow Mr. Little Guy keeps up, responding to the queries in typed notes half the size of business cards.
(via Prairie)
Many thanks to Kirsten for sending these my way. I got quite a few laughs out of this list, myself.
And just remember…
…the beauty of the pun is in the “oy…” of the beholder.
Two peanuts walk into a bar. One was a salted.
A jumper cable walks into a bar. The barman says, “I’ll serve you, but don’t start anything.”
A sandwich walks into a bar. The barman says, “Sorry we don’t serve food in here.”
A dyslexic man walks into a bra.
A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says, “A beer please, and one for the road.”
Two aerials meet on a roof, fall in love, get married. The ceremony wasn’t much but the reception was brilliant.
Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”
“Doc, I can’t stop singing ‘The green, green grass of home.'” “That sounds like the Tom Jones syndrome.” “Is it common?” “It’s not unusual.”
Two cows standing next to each other in a field. Daisy says to Dolly, “I was artificially inseminated this morning.” “I don’t believe you,” said Dolly. “It’s true, no bull!” exclaimed Daisy.
A guy walks into the psychiatrist wearing only Glad Wrap shorts. The shrink says, “Well, I can clearly see you’re nuts.”
Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar. One says, “I’ve lost my electron.” The other says, “Are you sure?” The first replies, “Yes, I’m positive…”
A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet and says, “My dog’s cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?” “Well,” says the vet, “let’s have a look at him.” So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally, he says “I’m going to have to put him down.” “What?, Because he’s cross-eyed?” “No, because he’s really heavy.”
Apparently, 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. And there are 5 people in my family, so it must be one of them. It’s either my mum or my dad…or maybe my older brother Colin. Or my younger brother Ho-Cha Chu. But I’m pretty sure it’s Colin.
I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn’t find any.
I went to the butcher’s the other day and I wanted to bet him 50 dollars he couldn’t reach the meat off the top shelf. He said, “No, the steaks are too high.”
A man came ’round in a hospital after a serious accident. He shouted, “Doctor, doctor, I can’t feel my legs!” The doctor replied,”I know you can’t, I’ve cut your arms off”.
I went to a seafood disco rave last week…and pulled a mussel.
Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly. But when they lit a fire in the craft, it sank, proving once and for all that you can’t have your kayak and heat it too.
A man walks into doctor’s office. “What seems to be the problem?” asks the doc. “It’s…um…well…I have five penises.” replies the man. “Blimey!” says the doctor, “How do your trousers fit?” “Like a glove.”
This just popped into my head. Earlier this week, I described my level of computer experience as “somewhere between ‘power user’ and ‘geek’ — in other words, I know enough to be dangerous, but not enough to get paid for it.”
It amused me at the time, and I meant to blog it, but I didn’t then. But now I remembered, so I did. Whee. I’m sure you’re all fascinated, just utterly fascinated.
I’m going away again now.
Will all due respect, someone in the Dean Team needs to get this issue sorted out quickly. There’s a growing hubbub over the apparent fact that the Dean campaign at one point contracted with two e-mail vendors who then started spamming Dean campaign e-mails to people who had not requested them.
While it appears that the Dean campaign has discontinued their contract with the vendors (according to this /. comment), a single comment left in the midst of a /. thread, which I only found because it was linked to from Joy’s post, isn’t going to be seen by many people, and I’ve seen this issue get mentioned on more and more blogs (like this one) each day.
I’d suggest that the Dean campain make an official statement on their weblog. While it may make for momentary run of slightly bad press, it won’t be nearly as bad as if the meme of ‘Howard Dean as spammer’ continues to spread.
Howard Dean’s presidential campaign acknowledged on Monday that it had spammed an undisclosed number of people with unsolicited political advertisements.
The campaign said Dean, the former Democratic governor of Vermont, remained opposed to unsolicited bulk e-mail and blamed the spamming on two contractors who had promised to contact only people who had specifically requested to receive the advertisements.
“We recently contracted with two vendors who made assurances that their lists were opt-in only,” the campaign said in an e-mail to CNET News.com. “On Tuesday, August 12th, Dean for America received notification from a supporter that spam was being sent. We terminated our relationship with both vendors immediately.”
Hopefully this all settles down soon. In my view, it was definitely a mistake, but mistakes happen.
Update:
Wired also has a story about this, mentioning that there were two waves of spam messages sent out, and the second didn’t seem to actually originate from the Dean campaign.
As for the Dean for America campaign, staffers there are less concerned with where the second message came from than with how to handle the aftermath of the first one.
Much as I enjoy the Vogue, it does have one definite downside — there is very little ventilation in the club, so it gets incredibly hot on summer nights. Thankfully, the Vogue has a fairly relaxed dress code, so it’s not at all uncommon for people to lose articles of clothing as the night goes on (so maybe it’s not that much of a downside after all…). When this happens, it’s not at all uncommon to get some odd looks from the “straights” (non-regulars) that are at the club, as in many normal clubs, you’d get kicked out for doffing your shirt midway through the night, so getting the occasional surprised look or getting pointed at is something that I’m fairly used to.
Tonight, I’d taken my shirt off during one of the songs, and once the song was done went outside to get a breath of air. As I walked out, I noticed a couple girls out of the corner of my eye, one of whom was doing a fairly obvious “oh-there-he-is-look-wait-don’t-make-it-obvious” motion to her friend. Being used to this, and rather amused that I’d caught her, I turned around with a grin and told them, “Oh, go ahead and point, it’s okay.”
What I wasn’t expecting was to have the girl laugh, then say, “No, no, wait — you’re from Alaska, right?”
“Um…yeah…”
“You’re DJ Woody, aren’t you? From Gig’s? And that little place up above Chuck-E-Cheese?”
“Holy shit! Yes!”
“I knew it! I told you it was him! We used to go see you spin at Gig’s when we were 14 and 15!”
Just incredible. Shannon and (oh, lord, I hate being brainless…Jen?) had been club kids back in Anchorage when I was working at Gig’s, and then later at the Eclipse. They’d seen me dancing and thought they recognized me, but since I’ve shaved my head since they’d seen me last, they weren’t sure. It wasn’t until I went outside without my shirt and they saw my tattoo that they were fairly sure, and Jen tried to point me out to Shannon. Apparently they’re both fairly recent escapees (Jen’s been here for about five months, Shannon for about one), and are living down in Tacoma.
Too freaking cool. We spent a good amount of time talking outside the club and catching up, I met their friends Kate and (again…Beth?), and then once the club closed, they headed off for breakfast and I came home. They said they should be back at the Vogue at some point, though, so I should get a chance to run into them again. All sorts of cool.
I love it when stuff like this happens.
First off, a confession: I’m a trekkie (trekker? whatever). Have been practically since birth, and it’s all my Dad’s fault. ;) Two years old, sitting on my dad’s lap, watching the original series on television. As soon as the Enterprise zoomed across the screen and Captain Kirk started the famous lines, “Space…where no man has gone before…” I’d be excitedly saying “speesh!” and pointing off into space (which apparently was somewhere behind me and over my left shoulder).
I grew up with Star Trek. I never did get into sewing my own uniform, or donning rubber Vulcan ears or Klingon foreheads, and I’ve only been to one convention, but I’ve got a library of original series technical manuals that I’ve picked up over the years. One of the earlier ones (the Star Trek Star Fleet Technical Manual) had an alien alphabet printed out, which I dutifully memorized, characters and pronunciation both. Imagine my surprise when I later visited Greece, and discovered that the “alien alphabet” was nothing more than Greek, and I could read every sign around me in perfect Greek. I had no idea what I was saying, of course, but I could read it all, and it’s all thanks to Star Trek.
One summer I was at one of the CTY summer camps that I participated in, and much of the talk and gossip at the time was about this new Star Trek show that was being started. Some “new generation” or something. We were all highly skeptical — after all, we’d all grown up with the Holy Trinity of Kirk, Spock and McCoy, and now someone wanted to try to recapture that? Not likely! Our skeptical opinions weren’t helped at all when one of the sunday papers printed a picture of the new crew. That kid from Stand By Me was there (a kid?). The dorky guy from that kid’s “Reading Rainbow” show was wearing a banana clip on his face. The captain…was old. And bald. To top it all off, their uniforms were one-piece jumpsuits, recalling bad memories of the horrid 70’s costuming of Star Trek: The Motion Picture — and they were hot pink! Obviously, the show was doomed from the start.
Needless to say, we were (thankfully) wrong. The kid, admittedly, suffered from some bad writing (but he’s since turned into a pretty damn cool guy). We got used to the banana clip, and it certainly helped that that “dorky guy” was also a well-respected actor in his own right. As far as old, bald captains go — if I can be half as cool (and sexy) as Patrick Stewart when I’m his age, I’ll be doing well! And, thankfully, those hot pink uniforms turned out to be nothing more than bad color in the newspaper.
Since then, while I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the original series, Star Trek: The Next Generation has been my favorite Star Trek incarnation (at least, as far as the TV incarnations go — the Next Gen movies rarely approached the cinematic quality of either Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan or Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, imho).
However, towards the end of Next Gen’s run, I stopped watching TV. Less and less of what I saw on television appealed to me, and commercials were getting more and more annoying, so I just stopped. With three exceptions (the Y2K turnover, the 2000 presidential debates, and the first couple months of Enterprise), I’ve not seen any more television that what I may have wandered into while at friend’s houses. Because of this, I missed the last couple seasons of Next Gen, and have caught no more than the occasional episode of Deep Space Nine or Voyager. I watched the first few weeks of Enterprise, which seemed passable at the time, but then Paramount started releasing DVD sets of Next Gen, and I revised my opinion of Enterprise.
So throughout 2002, I revisited Captain Picard and the crew of the USS Enterprise NCC 1701-D as each successive DVD set was released. It was a lot of fun — I hadn’t seen many of the earlier episodes in years (some of them probably not since they were originally broadcast), and many of the later episodes I hadn’t seen at all. Once that was done with, though, I faced a dilemma. I knew that I enjoyed the Next Generation series enough to buy it all, but Deep Space Nine was an unknown. I’d caught a few of the episodes from time to time, and generally enjoyed what I’d seen, but I didn’t have enough experience to really make a judgment. Fan opinion on DS9 always seemed to be somewhat divided, too, with fairly equal camps lauding it and decrying it.
However, as 2002 approached and I started reading more about DS9 as the DVD release came closer, I started reading more and more people recommending it. Eventually, I decided that I’d at least pick up the first season to see what I thought of it. After all, if it bored me, I wasn’t out too much money, and I’d know not to pick up the rest.
The blood of a trekkie runs deep and true, it seems.
As it turns out, DS9 has impressed me far more than I was expecting. The series, quite simply, kicks ass. A lot of potentially dangerous decisions were made when putting the show together (not least of which was setting it on a space station, rather than a ship), but they ended up working out incredibly well. They were able to create long-lasting story lines that run not just from show to show, but from season to season, political maneuvering and machinations galore, battle scenes that have had me wide-eyed with surprise, and many other touches that have made my introduction to DS9 incredibly enjoyable.
Today, I brought home the DVD set of season four of DS9, and just finished watching the season opening episode, “The Way of the Warrior“. Wow. There’s definitely a jaw-dropping aspect to watching a fleet of thirty-some Klingon ships, from the now familiar Bird of Prey to newer battleship designs — even a few of the old standard D7 class (yes, I’m a geek, I didn’t need to look at that up) — decloaking around the station. Too freaking cool.
The more I watch of this show, the more I like it. The long lasting story arcs have been handled incredibly well so far, and after reading bits and pieces here and there about the Dominion War for years, it’s a lot of fun finally being able to see it unfold in front of me, without knowing what’s going to come up next, or which directions the various players are going to take. The character arcs have been just as strong as the story arcs, too, and Garak (the Cardassian tailor) is quickly becoming my favorite character on the show. His questionable standing and constant banter with Dr. Bashir (“But which of the stories you told us were true?” “Oh, my good doctor, they’re all true!” “Even the lies?” “Especially the lies.”) are wonderful.
At this rate, DS9 may just end up supplanting Next Gen as my favorite Star Trek series.
(Next year, of course, comes the next question. Once DS9’s DVD run is complete, Voyager will start to hit the shelves. I’ve heard far more people decry Voyager as being the downfall of the Star Trek franchise than any other previous Trek creation [except possibly Star Trek V: The Final Frontier]. So, do I cross my fingers and give the first season a shot? I’ve still got about five months to decide, though, and until then, I’ve got just under four more seasons of DS9 to work my way through.)
I just got home from work to find a note taped to the front of my apartment building letting the tenants know that unless our leasing agency pays our water bill in the next thirty days, water will be shut off.
This just happened three months ago. Admittedly, the water was not shut off in that instance, but getting the same notice again doesn’t exactly do much to instill confidence in me.
Needless to say, if anyone happens to be apartment hunting in the lower First Hill/Downtown Seattle area, I can wholeheartedly recommend avoiding the Park Seneca (recently renamed Alfaretta) Apartments, and I’d be wary of any building controlled by Kauri Investments.
A couple things I’ve noticed about the recent power failure on the East Coast. First off, CNN reports have stated that after the power went down, there were a grand total of four reported burglaries, and the perpetrators were caught in all four. That report has later been amended to say that while there have been 850 arrests in the past 24 hours, and 350 of them were for burglary and/or looting, that is actually a drop in crime from a normal summer night.
That’s cool.
Then I found this comment in the MeFi thread about the outage, and wanted to share it.
So when it happened I was in Rockaway Beach, Queens — which for those of you who don’t know NYC, is about the furthest away from midtown Manhattan you can be and still be in New York City. On a good day it’s still more than an hour’s subway ride from there to my home in Long Island City, Queens (across the East River from the U.N.). So I knew I’d have an adventure getting home without the subway. But some great things happened along the way:
- At the time I was eating in a restaurant in Rockaway, and since I couldn’t pay for it with my credit card or go to an ATM, I used the last of my cash in my wallet — \$10 — to pay for my meal. When a waitress found out I had to get home with only my Metrocard (which works on buses as well as the subway) but no cash, she gave me \$10 of her own just in case I needed it, and her address so I could repay her “whenever.”
With my Metrocard I began taking any combination of random buses that would get me away from Rockaway, and ended up riding through various Brooklyn neighborhoods that I’d never seen from above ground. People were just hanging out on the sidewalks, having barbecues and playing cards, while the people driving cars became amazingly polite and turned every intersection with useless streetlights into a four-way stop. Never heard a damn horn, which is pretty amazing.
I ended up in South Williamsburg, on a street where I knew I could catch one final bus, the B61, back to my own neighborhood. But I stood there for more than an hour, and the few buses that passed were packed sardine-like and wouldn’t stop. Finally a guy in a big car slowed down and offered me and the six people I was standing with a ride to Greenpoint, which was much closer to where we needed to be. So we all piled in his car as he talked about the blackouts of ’77 and ’68. I gave him the \$10 bill the waitress had given me, and some of the other strangers gave me dollar bills.
From where he dropped us off, it was only about a 20-minute walk back to my place. By this point the sun had set and it was completely dark, but people had put candles on the sidewalks to help pedestrians navigate. One guy passed us carrying a torch.
As I approached home, I was pretty dehydrated from my three-hour journey; all the 24-hour delis and various places where one could get water were shut down. And I’d called my husband and learned that our building didn’t have running water, as the pump was electric. On my otherwise empty street, though, there was a Vitamin Water truck, with a guy behind the wheel who was starting it up. I asked if he was selling any Vitamin Water — I had \$4 in my pocket — and he said, no, he’d just been giving away promotional bottles, but he was out of the promo packs. When I mentioned that my building had no water, he looked alarmed and said, “Well, we might have a few bottles in back.” He fished out five for me and my neighbors, and refused to take any cash.
And I made it home. I like New York.
Every so often, you run across something that makes you think that there might be hope for this world after all.
I guess blaming it on the dog just isn’t an option when you’re in the middle of the Antarctic ocean, huh?
It’s one of the unfortunate consequences of being a mammal – flatulence.
And, more unfortunately for a group of whale researchers, nature took its course right under their noses – literally.
The researchers claim this is the first photograph of a minke whale letting one go in the icy waters of Antarctica. It was taken from the bow of a research vessel.
“We got away from the bow of the ship very quickly … it does stink,” said Nick Gales, a research scientist from the Australian Antarctic Division.
Hey, even I can succumb to the occasional giggle at juvenile fart humor every so often.
(via Boing Boing)