Dishwasher Safe

I wonder what I’m gonna post?

Lets watch, and see!

His buddies sighed, and looked askance once again. Bert had screwed up (as expected) and brought a mutt to a gunfight.

Bert didn’t understand: everyone snickered at the book he was reading, but so far he’d found it unusually dull.

Standing on his antigravity manhole cover in the middle of the lake, Bert tested his  latest invention – the Portable Hole – and knew that his fortune was made.

This (above) is an elderly Space Twat – put out to pasture at retirement by the Twat Force. She spends most of her time here on Earth molesting young boys and stealing shopping carts.

Doris moved carefully, knowing that one false move and the dreaded Schnoz Beast would instantly impregnate her nostrils with larva.

In A World All His Own

Bert – off in his own little world, as usual – walked quietly down the path towards the purported “showers”.

I don’t have a clue what that caption means. But as I wrote the first part of the sentence, the ending just kinda wrote itself.

Knowing there was nothing wrong with his wrist, Bert expressed his contempt for his physicians insistence on checking his joints for wank-epilepsy. (Source: Daver, I don’t know)

I really don’t have much to say today. Not much going on, except that *spit*Arlen Specter *spit* just publicly butt-squeegee’d Pennsylvania voters by switching parties. That pucker-faced prick!

‘Course he was a Dem already, if you judge by his recent voting activity.

I don’t know what the above thingy is. But from my electronics-fu skills, I note that a) the top layer of electronics includes two beefy magnetic coils or solenoids (suitable for railgun projectile hurling) and plenty of energy-storage capacitance, and b) the lower two tiers have plenty more energy-storage components and what looks like voltage-conversion magnetics in it.

So…taser gun? Or mag-railgun?

There was a new Teeth post  posted over at The Snooch Report yesterday.

Snakes In The Yard

I saw one of these yesterday in my back yard:

That – boys and girls – is an Eastern Yellowbellied Racer, I think.

Photo courtesy of Wiki.

I had time to study it carefully. It was medium sized – about 3 feet long – and was a solid, uniform dull green color (olive drab came to mind) on top, with white-yellowish underside (what little of the underside I saw)

It was also damned fast! I judged (correctly, I believe) that if I’d gone inside to get my camera, it woulda been in the next county by the time I got back outside.

It’s not as spectacular as the hog-nosed snake I found in the driveway last year. Here is an actual photo of it:

You can click on the above photo and embiggen the shit out of it.

I’m hoping to never get a photo of the water moccasins (one of which I have already seen) , rattlesnakes, and copperheads that live in the area. I don’t want them anywhere near here. I wonder if I should keep anti-venom around?

I read yesterday that you can tell venomous snakes from non-venomous snakes here in Missouri by looking at the eye: a round pupil is non-venomous, a slit-pupil is poisonous. I hope that’s right.

The racer is non-venomous, BTW.

Daver sent me some interesting GIFs the other day! They are over on the Snooch Report.

I need to post photos of the garage gutters! They look cool!

Representative Frank – You Have A Call…

I just saw this over at Last Of The Few and simply had to steal it.

Go to the link to zoom in to read the sign.

Thanks Theo – and Shelly!

Me And My Doxycycline – An Invective, With Broccoli

This, boys and girls, is a deer tick. The first of the ‘09 season!

That one up there belongs to Wiki, but the one that bit me on Tax Day or thereabouts looked just the same, except it was sitting on a brawny bronzed masculine groin – rippling with perfectly toned Man-muscles – instead of that wimpy leaf.

No, wait. It was actually burrowed into flabby, pasty white man-jiggle that is the groin-bordering-on-junk-area that belongs to me – I – moi – that would be yours truly.

This is a sample bite. Study it carefully:

notice that the telltale Lyme disease rash ring is barely showing in the above photo. Mine is somewhat more distinct, and the clearing feature in the middle is more apparent.

Now I would like to show you the nausea, headache, and nasty coughy crap I was gakking up all last Thursday night, but I don’t know how to depict it. I guess I could photo the nasty green-yellow stained Kleenex pile in the wastebasket next to my bed.

Likewise, I would like to share with you the dizziness, sore neck glands, joint soreness, and other symptoms I’ve experienced the last 60 hours, but – alas – I cannot.

And I can only describe as total, underwear-crapping, “I’m gonna die” feelings I have been living with since my highly-tuned physical Oh-Shitsky! alarm began going off early last week.

I hate it when that alarm goes off. It’s never wrong.

But! … I can share the image of the big-assed bottle of antibiotics I have to take over the next 3 weeks.

Yeah – they really aren’t that greenish color – they’re robin’s egg blue. Very pretty. And there’s only 42 of ‘em, so it won’t be too bad.

The reason all this happened is because I didn’t think the ticks were active yet (it was still fucking COLD out!), and didn’t wear the Permethrin-soaked clothing I made up last Fall, but-is-probably-weakened-by-now.

Yes – I searched the magnificent temple that is my bod thoroughly when I left the woods that day, and, yes, I did it AGAIN that evening when I bathed for the second time that day. I even use a hand-held magnifying mirror to see in those hard-to-see areas I won’t describe further except to say that they include my honest-to-god actual poo-pucker!

I do not know how I missed the tick, because it was right there in plain sight the next morning – laughing at me in it’s squeaky little voice – as I stared at it in utter horror.

My Doc assures me that at this early stage the anti-B’s are almost always curative. But we will run further tests after I finish the drug cycle. He’s treated a shitload of cases, so I guess he knows what he’s doing. He also knows that if he doesn’t run further tests later (and still more tests in a month or three after that) I will harass him unmercifully until he does, or I’ll fire him and find a Dr that will run the tests.

It’s when it gets in the brain and other organs (after months and months – or even years) that Lyme get really ugly. We won’t be going there.

Final Note: I almost didn’t post this, but I wanted to kinda explain why I have been a bit “off” (more than usual) lately. My hackles have been permanently up since I found the tick and noted that it was a deer tick. I don’t think I’ve slept 10 hours in the last week.  I even hesitated to go to the doc – thinking that my symptoms were all psychosomatic. The rash ring and massive headaches and nasty industrial-strength gak I was coughing up convinced me.

The Big Bang Booger

Apparently when The Big Cheese created the universe he sneezed, and ended up snotting Himself right smack-dab on His freshly laundered and pressed Space-Time Continuum. It’s enough to throw a deity off his ovaltine.

Time has since passed, but the celestial lung pearl is still there – waaaay the heck out there where things get iffy and no Kleenex can be obtained.

Anyway, its big, and its way out there, and its something to point those expensive astronomical terror-toys at.

Here’s another graphic that is even less understandable – for our technical cognoscenti!

The whole story is here, at Space Ref – where I managed to dodge all the fucking AGW crap for almost 13 minutes!

Boys and girls – I’ve just about given up on Science Daily. Every time I’ve gone there lately the front page was infested with AGW-linked bullshit stories. It was obscene. Naturally, now that I’m voicing my opinion, they’ve backed off for a bit. Oh! – blessed relief.

Now check this out:

See that reflection inside the ring?

Me, too!

Ends up that thingy – the curved reflection, that is – has some really interesting properties. Like for instance it is mathematically proven that it will always be brightest in the center of the curve and along the edges. That’s kinda nifty. That li’l curlicue in the middle of the reflection is called a cusp. No one knows why, except for one old guy who is presently incontinent.

All of this would be mindless prattle except that the math has application to gravitational lensing problems in astronomy, I think.

The whole article is at Science Daily – which is damned lucky to get any of my free advertisement and shameless criticism anymore.

This guy above is the Head Tickee Guy, of Borneo. He had my snark, and the fat fuck went and sat on it! In a RARE appearance – my faithful servant Abdul is seen (just to the HTG’s left) lighting the truck road flare he stuck up HTG’s back passage!

I give you – the NSFW Compton Effect! Courtesy of Daver - my Hero Of The Moment!

“No Tickee, No Snarkee!”

…said the Chinaman about my posts. “You no snarkee ’til you show tickee!”

Cursing for the Nth time, Bert found that – once again – he’d grabbed the metric wrench set instead of the english set!

My snark is being held for ransom. The dream jaggoff wants a “tickee” – whatever that is – and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna do anything preverted at my age.

I bet a “tickee” is like a Dirty Sanchez or sumpin. Moustaches have just not looked the same to me since I Googled that one.

Who comes up with this crap? Ya know – I remember asking that same question before, maybe several times before! I begin to think I’ve spent my whole sordid and highly pleasant life asking “Who the fiddly-fuck comes up with this shit?”

I had a dream last night. At least I think it was last night – or, rather, last time I slept. I get confused after a really good bout of insomnia.

I dreamed that someone – I never quite caught sight of him – wanted a tickee, and promised I would not snarkee until he got one. Or it. or them.

I say that because I have a sense that a tickee isn’t really a tickee – you know – a “ticket, in Chinese sing-song”.

So now I have to figure out what a tickee is. Or assume it was just a pipe-dream. Or in my case a beer-dream, since I went out to dinner last night with a cousin and ate Mexican food and drank a beer.

I bet it was the jalapeno peppers I asked for with the Fajitas.

Like any seasoned hobbyist, Bert liked to keep a spare foot or two of raw material around – just for emergencies.

For some reason I keep worrying about the Spirit Mars Rover. Mainly, I keep worrying that – with no water on Mars – it can’t wash it’s hands.

Hey! Speaking of things Space-Like, I found this:

I’m thinking this thing could even haul around Ted Chappaquiddick Kennedy to his various Washington Tavern and Bar appointments. I bet he could even swim out from under it if it somehow ended up in the river.

Did you notice that Bert had nothing to say or do with that photo? I thought not.

McGoo briefly considered changing his career to long-haul procrastinating, but found the hours too long and arduous.

I forgot! Here is a nice GIF Daver sent me.