Yes, even guide crocs for blind Aussies need a chance.

I only get on the ol' political soapbox for really important things these days, and so I'll just cut to it. There's finally something being shuffled around the floor of the House of Representatives that will help animals in disasters. It's not only about time, it's way past it, so if you want to give the guv'ment some power to help the furries, click the link, sign, and hope that we can make some kind of a difference.

The Pets Evacuation and Transportation Standards Act, H.R. 3858 (PETS Act).

Of course...it looks like plans will be made state-to-state, so it it ends up that certain states' plans are "shoot," I'm not really for that, just the transportation part. And yes, I know the crazy cat ladies, Tippi Hedren, and Sigfried & Roy pose special challenges, but I'm pretty sure Sigfried can apparate Manticore and Roy to safety in that case.

Yes, even guide crocs for blind Aussies need a chance.

Must be Monday.

This top news story today brought to you by Fark: Having solved all other problems, Suicide Girls among first victims of the FBI's "war on porn" (NSFW)

The first I'd read of Suicide Girls was back when RStevens of Diesel Sweeties wanted to be one, and so I'm familiar with the premise that girls are interesting to some people. That's fine, you know, people should make friends, never mind if they're dressed funny. As for the site treating their models badly, okay, that's one reason to pick on them, but they're not being censored for that, it's that they're showing boobies to paying members.

What's next? Google Images?

Have we not learned our lesson from Zardoz? If more people were wanking, there would be less hostility. Although I do advocate the destruction of the 79¢ vibrators. That's just...not a good paint job at all.

To sum up the day, the agents of KAOS are winning...and now even Maxwell Smart can't save us. Oh Max...RIP. Go, go, gadget hearse.

Must be Monday.

My commentary on the Battlestar Galactica finale.

TO BE CONTINUED?! NO! WTF kind of....ARGH!

When the hell does it come back?

You know...I have the feeling that when I hit the last episode of Firefly, I will be feeling even more pissed off, because--oh, wait, there's that movie coming out--but no! This is why I turned to designer and landscaping shows. There's no suspense, no attachment, no music that will make you realize halfway through your day that it's in your head...after Remington Steele ended up sucking so bad in the last seasons, I swore I would never open myself up to another television series again...I am such a fool.

And Michelle Forbes plays a good bitch. And a good medical examiner, but that's besides the point. No, it's not, Homicide: Life of the Streets hooked me and ended badly too. ARGH.

(This is not to say that Battlestar Galactica will end badly, however...Sci-Fi better not go and cancel the show before Adama gets his men and that cylon broad gets a couple more good meals.)

My commentary on the Battlestar Galactica finale.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

Although that would have been clever, had I left it with a whole diatribe about hy hours on the computer and then actually did leave. I could have said I did, but then I couldn't say I've been to imoscar.com and it was funny.

No, actually what I have been doing since Monday is attempting to gain control over the faulty hyperdrive that is my brain. This week's plan was to excercise. Oh my. I don't like to do that, because if I'm going to travel 0.8 of a mile, I want to be somewhere else when I'm done. But no, I went back to my well-chewed ski machine named Faisal with the broken arm, and have since spent a total of thirty minutes going nowhere at a rate of 0.7 mph. RAWR.

Should I explain the description? Okay, sure, why not. In the '90s, we got a ski machine. I ended up being the only person who used it, and I name things. In the winter olympics of 1994, there was a cross-country skier who could not compete, or he did, but he came in last...it was a long time ago. His name was Faisal, he was Moroccan, and I believe CBS was trying to find the next Eddie Edwards. I aspired to this great height, and named the ski machine after this guy that could go maybe 0.2 of a mile faster than me...but so much further. Not really, it was joke, and it stuck. Because things stick with me. Then the following year, my puppy ate the plastic trim on the ski machine. About two years back, my strapping right arm managed to break the oft-welded "ski pole" off the machine again, and this time, it was not welded back on, but tied on with some telephone wire. Telephone wire is strong, man.

So, ten minutes on the ski machine is ten minutes I'm not at a keyboard, and while that's good for the most part, I haven't gotten to catch up on some things. Being this blog was never meant to be a log of my daily brain farts, I sorta didn't have anything else to report. Except that I need to lose 12 words from something as soon as possible. Also, I am having difficulty with the "End of the Line" mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Past posts may have indicated that I couldn't afford that game, but the sudden rush of people getting the game away from the innocent children (that shoudn't have had it in the first place) made one copy available to me--legally, too. Shocking. I *heart* Wu Zi Mu. I would also like to make it known to the world that my grandmother staged an elaborate Las Venturas casino heist, and is really good at jacking motorcycles and shooting gang members.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

If ever I would leave you....

You know, I've had computers for a long time. 24 years, I think. First, it was an Atari 400, then a 130XE, then I got into the IBM-PC compatibles and it was really over. The Atari 400 was good for games like Congo Bongo, learning things like States & Capitals, and programming things like a square-headed guy walking halfway across the screen before hitting an error on line 200 which turned the guy's head into a triangle. The 130XE, however, had a disk drive attached, so I could save the crap I'd programmed and written, and Epyx's Summer Games kept me occupied for months on end.

Then one day in 1986, I was on line in Rite-Aid, which was called Drug Palace at the time--but that's a post in itself--and sort of almost blacked out. I just sort of...greened out. Had to leave and sit down. Was it all the hours spent sitting in front of the Atari? I don't know. But this past year, since I've been doing everything at the computer--photo retouching (I do that), the comic strip, writing--I've been not at all well. I have, in fact, just last week, gone past greening out and hit the floor. I was standing at the time, trying to put a parental lock on Fox News.

Living in the wild frontier of The Bronx, I have to do my own doctorin', so I'm not 100% sure it is the computer. I could be developing the heart condition that killed my father and his mother, or I could have the diabetes that his father had. (Thanks...daddy.) Then again, many women on my mother's side of the family have just passed the hell out at inopportune times for no definite medical reason at all, so maybe I got off lucky with the genes. I go on Google and look up a bunch of vitamins and herbs from time to time, but when I take most of those, I don't sleep. Not sleeping tends to make me loopy, so it's sort of a circle of crazy.

Anyway, I thought to myself, let's find out if it is the computer...go offline for a few days.

Okay, I can't go offline today, because I have a strip to do.
I can't go offline Monday, because Arrested Development returns, and I watch TV on my computer...because I'm a geek,
I can't go offline Tuesday, because I'll have another strip to do.
I can't go offline Wednesday, because...well, I'm not sure, but I'll figure out some excuse.
Thursday, another strip.
Friday is Sci-Fi Friday. Can't miss the season finale of Battlestar Galactica now that I've seen one episode.
Saturday, well...you know, I also have my Dish receiver radio stations playing through the PCTV, so...I need the computer on to broadcast my satellite radio to me in the yard. That's my excuse for Wednesday, too.
Rinse and repeat.

If I went offline, things would pile up. Most of all, I'd get no writing done. Writing on paper with a pen is not an option, because that's too involved. First, I need to find the right pen. Then, I need to write clearly, because I won't know what the hell I wrote after maybe three minutes. I also get a sort of writer's cramp. Also, writing on paper is useless to me because if I'm going to have to type something into the computer anyway...like Frank Sinatra, I'd rather do it in one take. Unlike Frank Sinatra, I'm not all cool and in the position to make weird stipulations like "I only write first drafts," because my first drafts suck.

So. That's what I wake up thinking most every morning. See you tomorrow.

(btw, today I had the added horror of having the music from Shall We Dance? burned into my head. I'm not so positive about the non-Japanese version of that movie.)

("I have a strip to do," just looks way dirty.)

If ever I would leave you....

Challenge!

Here's some fun for you weekend party-goers:

Stand on one leg, fold your arms, then close your eyes (read the rest of this first) and try not to lose your balance.

I read that it's actually a test to see if you've got strong ankles.

Don't do this near stairs.

Challenge!

Daily Posting -- two for two ain't bad.

I like pie. I don't get to have pie often, and this is most likely why I still like pie.

Also, I made the effort to turn on the Sci-Fi network today, and I found Firefly. I liked Firefly, and it only took me three years to find that out. Somewhere, the squid of RASSM are happy today.

I left Sci-Fi on, and now I am currently watching two guys beat each other up on Battlestar Galactica. The original series with Lorne Greene used to scare the crap out of me, I have no idea why...but the end credits to Star Trek used to scare me too...I was a weird kid. I watched Alien about five times, but...Lorne Greene scared me. I don't think Bonanza had that effect, though.

Okay, commercials are over, HOLY CRAP, ARCHIE'S ON BSG!

Daily Posting -- two for two ain't bad.

Three random notes.

To Ms. Lourdes Bergamini:

You do not live here, stop telling everyone you do. I am not keeping your mail, as the medical bills are not even an interesting read. I hope the postman knows where to find you when he gets that postcard back.

....

To the dolphins who washed out to sea during Hurricane Katrina, I hope you guys have a plan, because I recently said you were the most brilliant creatures ever. I mean, it's lucky that dolphins are pretty good swimmers, but unluckily, these lived mostly in captivity and just sort of sat there waiting to be rescued. I guess there is good fish to be made in the aquarium circuit.

....

I'm not going to post messages to the New York Radio board anymore unless I know what I'm talking about. First, I freaked out because I forgot Chris Botti wasn't on Fridays, and now I've accused Emmis Communications of taking away my happy station when all they're planning to do is send people on vacations.

Silly, silly me.

Three random notes.

OMFG.

That's about my summary of current events. A more detailed opinion begins with me wondering how pathetic an emergency response to Terror™ would be, and it just spirals downhill from there. You don't want to read it, because really, you're probably already thinking it. Unless you've got a bunker high in the hills like that dude from In The Year 2889 and you're covered.

So yeah, I'm trying to avoid all the news networks and thanking the great Goodyear blimp that floats past my house that the US Open is on. That way I can make fun of the Williams sisters for not knowing what happened down south and I can feel good about myself because I know what's going on. Because I'm not entirely feeling good about myself these days. I was supposed to be rich enough to donate loads of money to animal rescue by now, you see. My master plan is failing.

The reason for this may very well be that I am a poor communicator. I received a reply to my note to Church & Dwight, makers of the Fabric Softener Sheets of Doom, about the allergic reaction I had to their product. I'm not kidding, I really wrote to them. I was PMS-ing, and felt it was better to take it out on the sellers of such crap rather than the buyers, who did not take fondly to my criticism of their choice in dryer sheets when I told them why I was loaded up on Benedryl. My original note went something like, "What fabric softening agents do you use? I had an allergic reaction to them," which right there was probably not the swiftest thing to tell them.

Remember kids: if you're allergic to prescription medication, nosebleeds are nothing compared to itching; if you're allergic to dryer sheets, itching is nothing compared to total central nervous system failure.

Right, so I really didn't expect a response of any kind, but I got one. And here it is:

Dear Ms. Naclerio:

Thank you for visiting our web site.  We appreciate your interest in our
company and our products.  It is nice to know that you enjoy using Nice'n
Fluffy® Fabric Softener Sheets, Mountain Rain.

At Church & Dwight Co., Inc., we strive to manufacture products of high
quality and performance that meet genuine consumer needs.  It is
gratifying to learn from you that our efforts are recognized and
appreciated.

The information that you have requested is proprietary.

Again, thank you for taking the time and having the interest to contact
us.

We hope you will visit our web site again at: WWW.CHURCHDWIGHT.COM; for
information about our company, products, history, and financial
information.

Marcia Williams
Consumer Relations Representative

I believe I was sent a form letter. Because I don't recall saying I enjoyed my experiences with their product. It amused me for a few hours, anyway, while I used it as another example of how advanced I think humans aren't. We're not, you know. I don't know of many dolphins that pollute the air, or mountain lions that hang around certain areas when they know there's going to be trouble. Then again, the mountain lions probably would eat the dolphins if they had to share a habitat for extended periods of time. Dolphin flippers don't look like they could hold off cats very well, but I may be wrong.

---

I get the feeling I should've just left it at "OMFG! If that happened here, I'd totally be dead now."

*hugs to all the people that lost everything*

OMFG.