None of this is news to me. It might be to you. And don't think you won't find similar stories on the democrats either. this is how it works and has worked for a long time. If you look at the US constitution( I keep it in my palm and look at at least once a week) you will find that we the people were never meant to actually select the president. we would select some people we trusted and then send them off to washington to select the president. They were to be honorable people who held no public office. I think that might be preferable to the way we buy and sell elections now. If you want to know who elects your president the answer is to follow the money. Soft money especially. this is why they gutted McCain in public. He wanted to end this practice. Accepting campaign donation bit him in the ass once and somewhere along the line he decided it was wrong.

It is Wrong

But it is how it is. And no matter who wind up as president the thing we all should take away from this is that It doesn't matter that much who you choose as president.


It matters who owns your president

Happy 70th Birthday G. Gordon Liddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One of the interesting side effects of my new job is that I get to spend almost three hours a day in my car in some of the most beautiful land in the country, where they have radio stations that don't suck. My longtime standby and friend has been cfny. They have been out on the edge for decades and somehow managed to stay relevant the whole time.one of the few stations in the world where you can hear Ministry one minute, James the next, and Sneakerpimps five minutes after that. Because my drive takes me along the south shore of Lake Ontario I can hear them for almost the entire drive if I want. However, There is a station in Rochester that plays even deeper on the albums and sometimes even older stuff. (for instance leaving work on the Saturday before the election I got to hear California Uber Alles on the radio) It is a pretty pleasant drive if a little too long.

Coming home from work wednesday I was in the mood for a little reggae. I realized that this yearning was opportune as on wednesdays there should be some righteous dub on the University of Toronto station.

Oh how right I was.

Can anyone tell me when the Born Again Christians invaded the reggae music scene?! The music has always had a religious bent but this is very different from the story of the Rastafari. This disturbs me greatly. Mostly for the danger of mixing up stories and mythos and mindsets. Let me tell you why.

Picture yourself a Jew in Babylon. Subjugated , Oppressed, in bondage, misery, but with the knowledge (not merely belief, but actual knowledge) that one day God would show up and start tossing miracles around and you would get to slaughter all of the evil bastards who held you down. It would all be Ok because God told you it was. Not only were they worthless because they were not chosen, but they dared to put his chosen into chains. It must have been a little easier to live within Babylon when every moment your mind was filled with the picture of it burning. This is essentially the Rastafari story. Every good little Rasta pictures himself a warrior waiting for this day, kind of like Samson chained to the pillars of the temple waiting for his hair to grow back(Ok so I'm mixing the books up a little bit. I'm trying to give you the feel of the story not the actual facts and nothing explains Rastafari like the Old Testament). The gist of all this is while they look forward to the bloodshed all they plan on is destroying Babylon and starting from Scratch. Probably not that bad an idea when you think about it.

Not so the Born Agains (note here that I'm not talking about each and every one of you individually, just the particularly rabid ones that you let dominate your radio stations) . they are looking for the end of the world, and some of the nutjobs are actually trying to make it happen faster. That is a whole different story. While I am loosely called a christian, I just don't buy the whole revelations scene. I think the Mormons are closer to the truth than that pile of bad mushroom trips. So, anyhow I tuned the next day to the local Christian Hate Radio Affiliate ( for those of you who don't know how it works Christian Radio station operate something like the Product Information Network. They don't have any content themselves. they don't sell any advertising to support themselves. the sell the airtime outright. then the various ministries buy the time from them in hopes that they can scare enough godfearing christians into sending them money so they can continue whatever it is that they have decided is their Calling) The folks on the air there range from fairly moderate hatemongers like Dobson and his Focus on the Family gig to wackos like the Watchmen on The Wall from the Southwest Radio Ministries (where this week they actually spent almost twenty minutes of airtime paid for by your generous contributions building an argument against Ted Turner as the Antichrist(personally I'm betting on Steve Case). Hours of ranting is available for your listening pleasure but no Reggae.

No real point here I just felt like ranting.

And if you feel like sending a generous contribution so I can continue to pay the airtime and continue this Calling please feel free to email.

oh that is so funny it hurts

I haven't been posting much lately, and I know that those of you that aren't coming here with wierd search queries are actually wondering "what does he think of the election?" well boys and girls let me tell you:

When I originally raged about the general worthlessness of the candidates, I was genuinely angry. But that was only because I never in my wildest dreams imagined that something this wonderful might have happen.

This debacle is exactly what we needed.
More to come later......

I am a good husband, father, and in general an example of what a decent human ought to be. I am not conceited about this, it is just how it turned out. It wasn't always true about me either. I was a pretty evil bastard for some of my life. I still carry a pretty heavy karmic debt-load from those years.

A debt-load that apparently carried a baloon payment this last couple of weeks. Every mechanical or electronic thing I came in contact with broke or cost me money or both. I will give you one of the example and you can extrapolate it to the rest of my life and imagine with me that a big chunk of that debt is paid off.

I am back working for the company that I have been working for the last six years. ( I never quit or left the company I just didn't work for them for a while) Instead of the travel intensive project management stuff I used to be doing I am back managing a store. A very fucked up store(which isn't really a big deal in a month or so I can have it purring like a kitten and next spring when the customers come back it'll be profitable again. The hitch is that it is about an hour and a half drive from my house. It is a pleasant enough drive with virtually no traffic( in fact for some stretches of the drive it is conceivable that if i wrecked my car it could be an hour before another car passed by to report it). I however drive an '84 pontiac parisienne that sucks a bit too much gas and has other minor issues.

This Tuesday during the most desolate(and not coincidentally most beautiful) portion of the drive all of my guages ineverything else on the car that depends on voltage(such as the ignition coil) blinked off. This caused the engine to stop firing, a most disconcerting notion in the middle of nowhere at sixtyfour point three miles per hour. in the process of coasting down I hit a pothole in the shoulder. Vroom everything a go again. I made the last twenty miles of the drive bouncing from pothole to pothole keeping the the car running. When I finally got to work I parked it and walked away.

My wife and kids had to come get me that night. I thought about it all day. I realized that the proble had to be one of the battery cables. maybe some corrosion inside the connector, because I lovingly keep all the battery terminals I own clean as can be. A visit to my little brother produces tw different length positive cables and two different negative cables( slightly used but definitely serviceable). With the tools in the car, I figure I'm all set. I spend about fifteen minutes and determine that the problem is the positive cable, specifically the end of the positive cable that goes to the starter solenoid. The same starter solenoid that I had replaced less that five months previous.( and also the only work on the car that I've ever paid some one else to do.)

Neither of the positive cables I have will work. So I wash up and go to work. I handcraft the finest battery cable you will ever see. Fine stranded battery cable tinned copper its full length in a saltwater proof insulator with tinned copper lugs and all crimped with awesome Ancor crimper. My grandchildren will be able to use that battery cable. On my lunch break I crawl back under the car to replace cable. (At this point I have to mention that removing the cable was no big deal because the lug at the solenoid end had actually corroded off and the cable just sort of rested against the post, explaining the behavior at the potholes) At this point I discover that I can't actually remove the nut on the solenoid because none of the rathets or wrenches I have with me are short enought to swuing in the space where the solenoid is. so I have to bag it and go bact to work.

That night another trip to my brothers yields a ratchet that should work. The next morning I show up an hour early and go at it again in the parking lot. This time as I start tightening the nut with my new beautiful cable on it the nut on the (only five months old!!!!!) solenoid just busts right out of the housing. At this point I just start laughing and wash up and got to work. What else can I do?

At present the stud with nut tightened on it is held into its appropriate place on the solenoid with a bit of Minnesota Mining and manufacturing's finest silver Duct tape and the car runs beautifully. It took a few deep breaths to realize that that was the best solution for now. With the help of a friend to run as wingman I'll bring it home tomorrow.

I am not sure which I find most disturbing:

The fact that Google consistently ranks me as one of the world's leading experts on "forced cunnilingus"

The fact that fifty percent of my last two month's hits came from that particular search engine query

the fact the somewhere in my archives there is something that is causing Google to draw this conclusion

the fact that there are this many people using Google to search for this

take your pick

in the meantime folks remember unless you subscribe to freedom you aren't anonymous at all. So would the gentleman whose IP address resolves out in Saudi Arabia who found my website while searching for "fuck my wife" and then came back for a world record nine page views and still visits occasionally please email me? I know you have a story you want to tell.

Been doing stuff. living life and that kind of the thing. I've had some remakably bad machine related karma over the past couple weeks. as a direct result of that there is a very old and way too small hard drive in this machine right now. And still no broadband access into my house. those stories and many more coming over the next couple days.

Announcing the return of the world famous halloween bonfire and bacchanalia at the family compound.

Costume not absolutely required, but we will pick on you mercilessly if you don't have one or if you obviously didn't try very hard. This is an open invitation to all those who will be in the WNY vicinity on halloween to all who are interested and can handle general wierdness, excessive use of swords and the occasional very loud noise.

email me for details.

I've just installed eudora 5.0 on the windows box at home. It has this awesome little feature called moodwatch. it rates the emails coming in and going out with zreo to three chili peppers. I don't have too many three pepper emails but the few I do have seem to be from Declan Mcullagh I never thought of him as a pottymouth, so I am kind of interest to see the wordlist they use for the rating scheme. Any as a fun game for the next couple weeks I'll reply to email with how many chili peppers you earned and exhort you to increase you score. <giggle>

just in my mail box. Spam advertising Spam services.

What we offer:


*General AOL Lists or other ISPs
$200.00 for 1-million e-mails sent.
$400.00 for 3-million e-mails sent.
$600.00 for 5-million e-mails sent.
$800.00 for 7-million e-mails sent.
$1000.00 for 10-million e-mails sent.


WE ALSO HAVE LARGER PACKAGES!

Larger packages no less. "listen pal, pissing off ten million people at a keystroke just isn't going to cut it for me. you'll have to come up with a LARGER PACKAGE"

There really aren't words for this.

It's October. October is all kinds of fun where I live. The leaves start to turn. The weather finally cools off. Bow season starts soon. (Not that I have time to sit around in the woods shooting deer, but I do have a number of friends who do have time and occasionally have the need for someone with a piece of paper to come and pick one up, and I do so love venison jerky).

October is also the time I like to take my boys down to the park next to the canal to watch the cruisers go south for the winter. There are quite a lot of them. In fact the lion's share of the cruisers who come to the Great Lakes each year pass through my hometown. It's not the only way out but it's still the best way.

I used to be the guy they all visited on the way. I used to manage the coolest marine store between Detroit and Annapolis. Now I watch them run South for the winter with their masts on crude sawhorses on the deck, their folding bicycles lashed to stanchions, the dinghy crammed between the cabintop and the forward hatch. I watch them run South shivering because most of them don't even own warm clothes. The closest thing to a winter jacket they own are lined heavily built raincoats that salty people call foulies.

I once wanted to join them, but I couldn't ever get my wife to go for the kind of discipline that it would take to achieve that dream. Eating lentils and rice and peanut butter sandwhiches because all the rest of the money goes to build the boat just wasn't her thing. Nor was the idea of borrowing seventy or eighty grand for a used boat I'd have to refit really the deal either.

My wife has been growing frustrated lately at our life in this overly commercialized, keeping up with the joneses society. The sort of thing that frustrated me all along. (I'd be much less of a danger to society if I didn't have to deal with it very often). She's been shopping for boat plans.

We've settled on two or three designs from Jay Benford. I'd link right to the designs but he doesn't put the actual designs online. Just the price list. Right now I am torn between the 37.5 sailing dory with the raised flush deck and the steel 45 cat ketch. The dory I could definitely afford to build and it could easily hold enough stuff, but the interior space will be a little cramped as the boys grow possibly necessitating a bigger boat later. The steel cat ketch is over twice the size and has a really sweet looking fantail stern. We wouldn't grow out of it, but it would be considerably more expensive to build. The only reason I am considering it is I have access at a fair price to a plasma table big enough to cut the hull plates from a CNC file. That brings steel into a reasonable possibility. And which would you rather smack a rock with? Half an inch of wood wrapped in kevlar and fiberglass? Or five millimeters of Corten steel?

This is the boat I'd built if money and time wasn't a big deal. I'd make the kids drill holes in their toothbrushes and my wife could forget about bringing her shoes but we could leave Lockport and be in Rio 16 days later. there is even an excellent juniper currently for sale now for not too much more than what materials would cost me. all that stands in my way is a mere 280 thousand dollars.

But then what would be the point of taking her to Rio without a decent pair of shoes?

Columbus Day

Today is the day we celebrate that point in history where our ancestors began to rape the western hemisphere in earnest. I enjoy getting a day off in October, even if I don't celebrate Christopher Columbus. If any of you have not already done so make sure you go out now and buy and read _Pastwatch_ by Orson Scott Card. It is the most useful way to celebrate the holiday I can think of that I can think of.

I, however, celebrated it a little differently.

I went to the McDonald's with the two story Playplace. It was cold and rainy and I have three boys five and under. (Single dads note: this is the place to meet single moms. I can't tell you how many hearts were broken with " yes they are beautiful. I have a nine month old over there with my wife that is just as beautiful.) It's a good place for the older boys (5 & 2) to work off some energy on a crappy day.

The thing of consequence that happened there had nothing to do with playground. As I walked toward the playground with the tray loaded with carbonated sugar-water and grease, an adorable fifteen year old girl moved to open the door into the playplace for me and smiled at me. not a flirting smile just a warm friendly smile. I was haunted. Her face and smile sent me screaming back in time almost ten years.

When I was 19, I spent an entire summer dating a fifteen year old girl. A beautiful, bright fifteen year old girl with a very fucked up homelife and some serious self esteem issues. I met her while chaperoning some party or bonfire or some such for my little sisters(who were probably 14 at the time). I some how got suckered into giving her a ride home, and for some reason I still remember that it was in my uncle's Cherokee because my car was boxed in to the driveway at the time(This was during the T-Rex period of me driving a 1970 Caddy coupe deville). While driving her home I realized that she was actually fun to talk to and actually had thoughts running around in her head. This conflicted greatly with the picture I had of fifteen year old girls at the time, which was why I mostly dated 30 year old women at that point in my life (the conversation was actually worth having, and the sex was,, well, look, I don't really have to tell you do I?, let's just say that by the time you get to be thirty you have probably had enough time to practice). Anyway, this particular fifteen year old was a delight to be around. So I took her to a movie, and pretty soon We were spending lots of time together.

The whole thing came to a crashing end not too many days after she blew up at me for not having sex with her(Snuggles, kisses, and sometimes when I was weak the occasional pet, but definitely never sex).

"For crying out loud! We've been going out for four months! And you never try to have sex with me!"

"You're fifteen. I'm nearly twenty. You have a lot of complicated stuff going on in your life right now. do you really think that It'd be a good thing for you right now?"

"It's not like I'm a virgin!"

"Believe me hon, It's not because I don't want to."

"You don't love me! You don't care about me! You don't want me!"

With her head pressed to my chest, my shirt warm and wet with her tears, and her enveloped in my arms, I said inside my head but not with my mouth "I do and I do and I do."

She dumped me three days later after telling my mother that she was going to dump me for not having sex with her. I don't even have words to describe how wierd that was. She felt comfortable with my mom, and her own mother was just plain nuts, but I wasn't ready for that. I definitely wasn't ready for my mom to take her side in the matter. I got dumped.

Three years later she was married to a shiftless, lazy, stupid, small time coke dealer, and joining the Army. Not too many months later a friend of mine called me to tell me that she was an inmate of his in Leavenworth. (Leavenworth for crying out loud! He says "there's not much I can do for her" "well look do what you can, She's a tough girl and physically can take care of herself, but emotionally, you know what I mean." "yeah I do. Like I said theres not much I can do") Another dear friend of mine later let her stay at her place but eventually booted her out for doing coke again. I haven't heard from or about her in over two years.

The thing I have always wondered is, "If I had fucked her and stuck aroud with her longer could she have worked through the self esteem issues from a safe secure environment and actually used the wonderful brain of hers?" It's tortured me for years. There is nothing I can do about it now. Water over the bridge. But having that nameless girl in the McDonald's flash me that same smile, the one that used to drop me to my knees ten years ago, can still bring it all back like a full on kick to the solar plexus.

Her older sister works at the gas station across the street on Sundays. Just sundays. It's the job she's had since high school and the folks at the gas station just can't bear to lose her even though she's grown up, married and has a real job. When I catch her there we both do this little anti recognition thing like neither of us want;s to be reminded of how we know each other, so we just pretend we don't. Except we do. And right now Sunday can't come fast enough, because I need to know, is her little sister's life still a mess? Or (I pray) has she finally wrestled the demons and gained control of herself.

it's bad enough that my palm has no spell check but to find my stylos(they aren't really typos are they?)from the mistyped search engine queries in my referrals is a little goofy at best and annoying at worst.

on working the second shift

My two older boys believe that if they go to bed well for their mama, (you know no fighting no biting and most importantly no screaming and waking up the littlest boy) that I will come in when I get home after midnight or so and give each of them a kiss and a hug while they are asleep. In the strictest sense this is true. What they don't know and what I don't have any intention of telling them is the I do it even if they were awful for their mama.

will this be considered lying to them when they grow up?

Just so nobody gets the wrong idea. I am not an animal rights activist. I have at times been a vegetarian, but for health reasons, not for any moral issues about butchering animals. Critters eat other critters; it's how it should be. I ate low on the food chain because it was healthier for me and my kids and in general for the planet they will be living for the next few years.
But I am not an animal rights activist. I may not necessarily be a human rights activist. At one point in my life I aspired to be an Eco- terrorist. But it's more complicated than that. The wackos in the Earth Liberation Front( Yes, I know they have a website. Go find it yourself) accomplish the opposit of their intended goals virtually all of the time. The people who spike forests generally result in killing the poor bastards who work in the mill cuz there are no other jobs in the town they grew up in and miss the evil bastards who actually bribe the congressmen (and the bribeable congressmen) to get the ridiculously profitable and wasteful logging concessions. There are just too many stupid eco-terrorists.

The issues (as is the case with virtually everything in life) are just too complicated. There are no clear lines dividing right and wrong. There are things that are blatantly wrong(The Cuyahoga River catching fire for instance) and things that are obviuosly right(like sustainable organic farming). But there are so many shades of grey in between. It's hard to know where to begin. There aren't any companies that are so intinsically evil that the best thing to do is hunt down the entire executive council and kill them(with the possible exception of Monsanto, and Archer Daniels Midland, who are so evil that they make the health insurance industry look squeaky clean).)

Most of the rest of the world's corporations and governments have some shades of grey in between. And this is where it get's hard. The hardcore treehuggers have bit on some "holy truths" that just aren't true. Convenient rallying points, maybe but not true. For instance if you look at the whole cycle analysis of diapers it is actually more harmfule to the environment to use cloth diapers than paper. They are both phenomonally destructive but cloth are worse. Not what that nice college kid shaking you down for Greenpeace told ya huh? People don't like it when you challenge their dogma. I was there when the most reasonable and honest and informative environmental issues magazine ever (it was called Garbage if you are interested) went down and was killed by its publisher after the amount of Hate mail that showed up when the published and article detailing that little factoid. "Don't bother me with facts m'am, I've got dogma".

So maybe the real solution to the diapers is to stop reproducing? Wellll,,,, that gets complicated too. First think about who are the ones most likely to choose this option? The bright people who have the ability to look long range and do the right thing for the good of humanity. Anybody notice the flaw there yet? Smart caring people not breeding, Dumb, evil, Jerry Springer watching people breeding like rats in a sewer. Not the world I want to be responsible for at all. Then there is the further complication of all the birth control hormones released into the environment. Oh you didn't think about that one didya? Well, your local sewage treatment probavly does a fair to middling job removing bactreia and major toxins from the water before releasing it back to the environment(at least when it isn't raining really hard), but they aren't even remotely equipped to remove all the hormones you pee into the magic hole we call the toilet. Those little synthetic hormones stick around a long time and they fuck with the reproductive cycle of all kinds of critters. Some critters that we might like to eat or at least would prefer not extinct.

Yessiree a lack of sexual reproduction means extinction for most species on the planet. It's similar to the whole swordfish deal. just a few decades ago the size of the average boated(you can read that as dead) swordfish was of a size that indicated several years of breeding(remember from a gene pool standard necessary for survival of a species, if you are killed after you've finished breeding that's just fine). Now they are averaging a weight that would indicate that they are sexually immature(read that not breeding yet). While there are some people that feel that it would be a good thing if we got rid of most of our sexually immature males it wouldn't bode well for the species. Nor does it for the swordfish. But where does one point the finger? At the fisherman we all grew to love in _The Perfect Storm_? At the consumers who continue to buy the stuff almost to a person unaware? At the fish processors who pay big buck to lobby for ever increasinf permit to catch these fish? at the lobbyists? at the congresspeople?

And there's the rub.

You see the eco-terrorist needs a target. There has to be some property to destroy or somebody to kill or maim. And in my eyes it has to be someone responsible, not some innocent(to varying degrees) bystander. The actual evil bastard who made the decision knowing it was wrong and did it anyway because it was profitable in the short term here and now. Those people are hard to find. However my patented parable of the fox may apply here. You might only have to find a few to make it worthwhile.

On the other hand it might just turn out like killing other vermin. You can kill as many squirrels as you want, but as long as you've got an orchard full of walnut trees they'll keep coming back

For Tom,
search engine query fron my stats
query?p=dumbass%2Bmarines&b=20&hc=1&hs=1

The weekend before last I took my kids to the zoo.

I hate zoos.

Most zoos fill me with a rage that in a person with less self-control(like a kid from the next town over) could cause a guy to blow up federal buildings. I just can't help trying to imagine what it must be like living your whole life in a cage. Going to gaol is one thing. With very few exceptions the people in gaol knew that their actions had the possibility to land them there. What polar bear wakes up in the morning and says to himself "I think I'll go down to the water's edge and snag me a baby seal for breakfast. Gotta be careful though. I might land myself in the zoo. "? Not many I bet.

My wife really wanted to go. And by now you all know how I feel about my wife.

We went to the zoo.

There were two zoos to choose from. The one zoo least likely to cause loud boom-like noises was unfortunately across an international border and a two and a half hour drive away. Not a day trip, weekend maybe, but not a day trip. So we went to the zoo nearest us. With the sorry rationale that if we give them money maybe the zoo will be able to afford better facilities.

Buffalo's zoo was built in the Golden age of Buffalo. I was a time when the lion's share of the nation's wealth flowed through buffalo. A time when the freight shipped down the Erie Canal changed New York City from a second-rate podunk backwater port living in the shadow of Philadelphia into the financial cornerstone of the free world. It was a time of robber barons enjoying the years before the Sherman Anti-Trust laws and the rise of union labor. It was a time when the twelve year old children working in the sweatshops weren't about to write any letters to the zookeepers complaining about how small the cage was for the lion was in the zoo they couldn't afford to see, if they could write. Ah, yes the golden years.

We went to the zoo. We saw three elephants in outdoor space of about a third of an acre. We saw saw a golden eagle in a cage he could barely spread his wing span in let alone fly. I nearly took bolt cutters to the cage that held three red wolves in a triangular spacewith the legs about thirty feet and the base about forty. They had a tiger in an "environment" about 120 feet by 25.(in case at this point you think I only care about top level predators, they had wallabies and mountain goats and a rhino in just as shameful accomodations). The crowning glory of the whole trip was the polar bears.

Three of them. In three separate wedge shaped "environments" made out of concrete, that still bear the bronze plaque fron the Golden Age proclaiming for all the world to hear "The Bear Pit". Each polar bear had their own individual wedge. In each wedge they have fake rocks, a little fake cave to hide fron the sun but still remain in view of the public, a pool of water with a cube of white rotomolded plastic about three feet to a side floating in it(evidently to put the poor bastard in a mind of ice in the 85 degree heat), and a very sturdy blue ball to play with. The first of the three was nearly catatonic. He just sat there next to the pool that for some reason causes patches of green algae to grow in his coat, and stared in to nothing, not even swatting at the flies that crawed on his eyeballs. The second one though, that was a different story. He was pacing. Pacing back and forth across the longest unobstructed pertion of his wedge, which happened to be the arc allong the tewnty five foot pit that separated hime from us. Pacing and glancing at my boys, pacing and making extended eye contact with me. Eye contact that said

"I should have hundreds of square miles of tundra and pack ice to hunt, and I'm stuck in this fucking wedge. They kill and butcher all my food before I even see it, and sometimes they give some crunchy crap called polar bear chow or some shit like that. But I see your eyes out there and you know it's wrong. You do. and you do nothing about it. But that's ok, I'm exercising, and that pit isn't so far across, and those kids of yours, they're a nice snack size. You remember that when you go home. those guys on either side of me may have given up but not me. No sir, not me."

If I had a baby seal to give him I would have. Right then and there. Heaved it across the pit and run just to keep his eyes off my boys.

We're not going back. That's a shameful way to run a zoo. I'm not giving those evil bastards any money. I wish I could get back what they got. My kids aren't going back, my wife's not going back, I'm not going back.

unless maybe,,.., I can find the Chairman of the Zoological Society of Buffalo and talk to him, show him what I saw in polar bear number two's eyes,,,



and then heave the bastard across the pit and run.

Today is the anniversary of Henry Hudson discovering Delaware Bay. That is if one can be said to discover a place where there is already a thriving population of humans. Perhaps the title shouldn't read "discoverer of delaware bay, the hudson river, and hudson's bay" but instead read "captain of first expedition of non-viking and non-basque white people to poke around the northeast coast of north america".
Great discover, my ass. His crew eventually marooned him in Hudson's Bay. A fitting end.