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2007-09-02T14:16:00.000-05:00

This summer the six year old suddenly demanded to play the violin. Her obsession had the quality of a crush, coming from nowhere that I could discern. I am terribly untalented myself, and dare not even sing in the shower. The Warrior Monk, however, can carry a tune and to my unmusical ear has a miraculous ability to pick out a song on the guitar. Unfortunately he spends most of his talents singing in falsetto to execrable 70's Greatest! Hits! on car trips through the radio wastelands of Iowa or Wisconsin.

Nonetheless, after incessant nagging, we signed her up for Suzuki violin lessons. Due to her tender age she was initially permitted only a styrofoam violin. But she persisted and to her great delight was recently awarded a real (rental) violin with lessons to begin next week.

Given that she has a strong genetic connection to my tin ear, I have no great hopes of her musical future (but one never knows, right?) Nor did her big sister, who took up the clarinet last year, yet make me reevaluate my skepticism. Last spring we attended her school concert where the musical numbers proceeded with a predictable idiosyncratic and sagging rhythm.

Much to my surprise I learned last week that lack of talent does not necessarily spell the end of a concert career! Witness this article about a group called the Really Terrible Orchestra:

But where standard amateurs may be incidentally bad, the Really Terrible Orchestra is fundamentally bad. Its random ability to play the right notes at the right time, or at all, is part of what the orchestra chairman, the lousy clarinetist Peter Stevenson, calls “our entertainment package.”

“We knew there was no market for a good amateur orchestra, because a poor professional one would always be better,” Mr. Stevenson said. “But there is a market for the R.T.O. And that our concerts sell out in advance, to audiences who just love to hear us scrape through easy arrangements of Bach or the last 40 bars of the ‘1812’ Overture — the rest is far too difficult — is proof. There’s always thunderous applause, especially if we’ve got lost in something and ground to a halt. Always a standing ovation. And it’s not just because we have our friends and family in the audience. People genuinely thrill to it.”

We did thrill to the ten year old's concert. And we now have a CD recording of it to prove it. And yes there was a standing ovation though I doubt there was a single audience member who did not fall in the friends and family camp.

The NYT article continues:

How much, you might fairly ask, is the Really Terrible Orchestra trying to stink?
“Not at all,” Peter Stevenson insisted, sounding slightly hurt when I asked to attend an orchestra rehearsal if it had such things.
“It’s unkind of you to think we don’t rehearse,” he said, “because we do. And some of us even take lessons, as I am at the moment, from a serious teacher. I can’t pretend that no one ever plays deliberately badly. It’s usually the trumpets, and they make me angry when they do. But for the rest of us, we are actually doing our best. And that’s the tension in which we operate. On the one hand, we’d like to get better. On the other, we know we won’t.”

I believe both of the kids would like to get better too. And I don't yet know whether they will or won't. If not, it's nice to know they could found their own Really Terrible Something-Or-Other and soldier on.

As for the Really Terrible Orchestra?

The second world tour is due to hit London in November. “I fear they’ve heard of us down there,” Mr. McCall Smith said, slightly concerned that they might also have heard a pernicious rumor that, thanks to persistent practice, the orchestra was less bad than it used to be.
“It’s not true,” he insisted, “and I don’t see how it could be. We’re only too happy for people to practice. I do myself, but it will never make a difference. No one good is ever going to join us. And if they did, they’d be hugely outnumbered. Children would raise the standard, but we don’t let them in for that reason. It would be too embarrassing. And though people say we have ambitions, what is ambition? When a piece speeds up, it’s ambitious enough for me.”

DUMBEST. QUESTION. EVER.

2007-08-10T20:05:00.000-05:00

Q I have some rare whiskey that's 45 years old. How can I get rid of it?

From our local rag's Fixit column.

WE, AND OUR FAMILY, ARE FINE

2007-08-01T20:30:00.000-05:00

... in case you were wondering. Definitely the biggest disaster in the Twin Cities since I have lived here.

The ten year old is already afraid of bridges. How are we going to persuade her to travel over one in the future? Everywhere we go, we must cross a bridge. But not this one anymore.

Don't call the cell phone of anyone who lives here right now. The network is reportedly overloaded. But getting phone calls ON OUR LANDLINE from out of town friends and family (some of whom we haven't spoken with for a while) checking on our safety has been nice. We rarely turn on our cell phone anyway.

UPDATE: Minnesota bloggers react. Buzz,mn post has lots of comments, most from shocked out of towners and a few folks who can't wait to start the political blamefest. More comments at MNSpeak.

WILL WE FIND LITTLE DECAYED TEETH ALL OVER OUR YARD NEXT WEEK?

2007-07-19T18:21:00.000-05:00

Our summer babysitter has finally landed a full-time job and is moving out of state. The kids staged a huge neighborhood party for her today, complete with a home-made pinata.

When I got home from work this afternoon, I spotted at least two squirrels in the back yard, one with something bright red in its mouth. After it lazily made its way up a nearby tree I figured out what was going on: a hot ball! They're apparently eating the leftover pinata candy, wrappers and all.

The Warrior Monk is chasing them off our patio with a broom as I type.

THERE GOES THE NEIGHBORHOOD

2007-07-13T20:07:00.000-05:00

It's a fine summer night and all the kids in neighborhood (well, at least 10 of them) are shrieking and chasing each other with sticks in some Harry Potter-inspired game.

"Regroup!"
"Huddle! Huddle!" cries are wafting in my window.

It will all end in tears, of course, but there's no way I am interfering. We have plenty of band-aids, after all.

EGG ON THEIR FACE

2007-07-05T17:20:00.000-05:00

More proof that some of the best advertising is free -- and the best way to get free advertising is to be banned. Extra points if you're banned by a government watchdog panel:

Fifty years after Britons were implored to “Go to work on an egg”, an advertising watchdog has banned a revival of the campaign, saying that it breaches health guidelines.

(Via Overlawyered)

The British press is all over it and condemnation is pouring in. Makes the thought of scrambled eggs even more tasty than usual.

TEXANS KNOW ABOUT COWS, DON'T THEY?

2007-06-25T21:00:00.000-05:00

Is global warming going to be the newest mass tort? One obscenely successful Texan plaintiffs' attorney, Stephen D. Susman, thinks so:

“Melting glaciers isn’t going to get that much going, but wait until the first big ski area closes because it has no snow,” said Susman, who teaches a climate-change litigation course at Houston Law. “Or wait until portions of lower Manhattan and San Francisco are under water.”

Susman warns "[y]ou're going to see some really serious exposure on the part of companies that are emitting CO2."

And the cows emitting ... well ... you know what. That's where the really big money is.

COME SE DICE "REVOLVING DOOR"?

2007-06-17T19:35:00.000-05:00

Italy recently put a controversial indulto (sentence reduction for prisoners) into effect. Guess what happened next? Within hours, dozens had been arrested and sent back to jail after reoffending.

There were 194 bank robberies nationwide in the month before the amnesty was introduced last July. After the law was passed by Romano Prodi's centre-Left coalition that figure rose steadily, peaking at 332 in October - at an average of more than 10 a day.

The pardon was put into effect to ease prison crowding. But at this rate, they'll all be jam-packed again in no time.

There will be fewer law-abiding Italians however: "shopkeeper Antonio Pizza, 28, was murdered while trying to stop a recently released convict from stealing his car."

GIVES NEW MEANING TO THE TERM p://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaydar">"GAYDAR"

2007-06-13T19:02:00.000-05:00

The Guardian today reports that in 2002 the U.S. military requested $7.5M to investigate the possibility of spraying the enemy with chemicals to make them gay:

"One distasteful but non-lethal example would be strong aphrodisiacs, especially if the chemical also caused homosexual behaviour," says the proposal from the Air Force's Wright Laboratory in Dayton, Ohio.

Of course, the $7.5M cost could have easily been offset by selling the substance in tasteful fragrance bottles at retail establishments all over the Bay area. Also Fire Island.

Unaccountably, the funding request seems to have been denied.

THEY TAKE THESE THINGS SERIOUSLY IN WISCONSIN

2007-06-05T20:10:00.000-05:00

A bar owner over the border was fined for using the wrong tap -- he (gasp!) used a Coors Light tap to avoid wasting some Miller Light beer. Nope, sorry, got them mixed up (I often do). Tap was Miller Light, beer was Coors Light.

"I didn't think nothing was tragic about it," he said, adding that the beers cost the same and he told his customers they were getting the beer they actually got: "I didn't lie to nobody."

But it is a tragedy man. Miller Light, Coors Light. Both tragedies.

PABST BLUE RIBBON!!!

FEAR FACTOR

2007-06-02T14:34:00.000-05:00

After resisting for eons, I've finally agreed to allow the ten year old to invite four of her friends over for a sleep over. I established some ground rules for interactions with her younger sister (no physical contact, vague admonitions to be nice) and sleeping (go to bed early, sleep late in the morning) which I privately understand to be dreams rather than iron-clad laws.

No exact date has yet been arrived at, leaving me to hope that ten year olds' summer schedules are as unworkable as mine. But I suspect that the prospect of a slumber party will reveal them all to be organizational geniuses.

EARLY SIGNS OF ALZHEIMER'S IN JUDGE POSNER??!!

2007-05-26T15:42:00.000-05:00

The renowned jurist's response to a recent question (posed in Slate to ten prominent writers):

I usually ..... But I cannot for the life of me remember why I chose that! I used to ..., which I like a lot. ... And I ..., which I also liked; but I no longer remember why I did that, either.

Alarming at first blush, indeed, but why anyone goes to the trouble of selecting a particular FONT (or typeface), much less has a reason for doing so, is beyond me.

Yes, that's what Slate asked, apparently to make a three-fer (an essay, documentary film and exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art, all on the font Helvetica) into a four-fer. The writers all struggled to come up with un-boring answers to this dry question. The writer/producer of the TV show Sex and the City seemed to work the hardest to please (not surprisingly):

I talked to my therapist, and she said my love of Courier stems from my childhood. Back before I knew what deadline, hack, or rewrite meant. When the most fun I could imagine was a trip to my father's office, where I could be alone with the IBM electric typewriter. Another chance to tickety-tick-tick something that would make me laugh. And then show it to my mom and she'd laugh, too. So, I guess my loyalty to Courier is a way for me to maintain my bond with my mother. In other words, it's all her fault. That's what my therapist says, anyway.

While several others plausibly responded that they used the font that came with the machine they composed on, they pretty skipped the why part and fluffed their response up with a personal reminiscences. Posner, not surprisingly, answered the query fully and unsentimentally (in case you're interested, the ellipses in the quote above hid his choices of "Century Schoolbook," "Baskerville," "Garamond " and "Verdana").

So, clearly not Alzheimer's. Perhaps Asperger's?

LOOK INTO THIS CRYSTAL BALL, AREN'T YOU GETTING SLEEPY?

2007-05-20T15:45:00.000-05:00

Right:

The offices and bedrooms of conservatives are neat and contain cleaning supplies, calendars, postage stamps and sports-related posters.
Righties like country music and documentaries. And they're fans of hip-hop, rap and dance music (well, U.K. Righties).
Conservatives showed a higher tendency for lucid dreaming (being aware you're asleep).
Kids who grow up to be conservative are whiny and insecure, and look for "reassurance provided by tradition and authority, and find it in conservative politics." They are "easily offended" and "uncomfortable with uncertainty." They also had secure childhoods with strong attachments to one or both parents, and low stress.

Left:

The offices and bedrooms of liberals are bold-colored, cluttered rooms with art supplies, lots of books, jazz CDs and travel documents.
Liberals are restless sleepers and have a higher number of bizarre, surreal dreams -- including fantasy settings and a wide variety of sexual encounters. They also have more nightmares that conservatives (though conservatives had more when Clinton was in the White .
Kids who grow up to be liberal are confident and eager to explore alternatives to the way things are. They are "energetic" and "self-reliant." They also had stressful childhoods and weaker attachments to their parents.

And psychologists? I believe, with no study whatsoever, are merely astrologers with degrees. Or is that sociologists?

RISKY BUSINESS

2007-05-12T16:02:00.000-05:00

Despite being a mom myself (eagerly anticipating my haul of homemade gifties tomorrow morning) I am perversely pleased when I come across evidence that contradicts a Mom-ism. The latest: bicycle helmets attract cars. Add it to the heap:

Crossing your eyes is good for you.
Coffee, alcohol (including girly cocktails), also good (okay, okay, mom, in moderation).
Seat belts make people drive more recklessly.

But licking a frozen flagpole in winter really will make your tongue stick. Especially in Minnesota. Just ask Atomizer (who did it twice in one day! What's up with that?).

Happy Mother's Day!

IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY LIGHTLY TURNS TO THOUGHTS OF EX-POST OPPORTUNISM

2007-05-01T15:36:00.000-05:00

An economist muses on why some relationships that should end, don't:

Relationship-specific assets [knowledge of each other’s tastes and quirks, routines that allow them to coordinate their schedules" etc.] give both partners partial protection against market competition, which means they can reduce their contributions and still remain attached. Partners may let themselves get fat, shave less frequently, refuse to have sex as often, cut back on household chores, etc. They can do this as long as the reductions in quality are not so great as to swamp the value attributable to the relationship-specific assets.

Myself, I have not attended a Killdozer concert since I went through the dating investment phase of my relationship. Of course, the band broke up in 1996 (and the lead singer is now a tax lawyer in Los Angeles), so I have some backup excuses.

For more romantic thoughts, such as the Annual Rite of Overdue Dumping and the cause of the Spring Mating Season, click here.

STOP THE MADNESS!

2007-04-18T18:46:00.000-05:00

A recent study concludes one child is best:

In comparing identical twins, [a sociology professor] found that mothers with one child are about 20 percent happier than their childless counterparts; and while fathers' happiness gains are smaller, men enjoy an almost 75 percent larger happiness boost from a firstborn son than from a firstborn daughter. The first child's sex doesn't matter to mothers, perhaps because women are better than men at enjoying the company of both girls and boys, Kohler speculates.

Interestingly, second and third children don't add to parents' happiness at all. In fact, these additional children seem to make mothers less happy than mothers mothers with only one child—though still happier than women with no children.

(Via Marginal Revolution)

In my circle, everyone seems to have exactly one more child than they can handle comfortably. I have two.

Yes, I'm included in "my circle."

BS

2007-04-06T11:11:00.000-05:00

Someone has finally taken a brave stand on all the scandalous and immoral political hanky-panky going on -- the United States Patent and Trademark Office:

Registration is refused because the proposed mark consists of or comprises immoral or scandalous matter. Trademark Act Section 2(a), 15 U.S.C. §1052(a); TMEP §1203.01. According to the attached evidence from a search conducted on Google, the proposed mark DEMOCRAT.BS means Democrat bullshit and is thus scandalous because the word “bullshit”, according to the attachment from the Answers.com website, is vulgar slang.

A bipartisan stand no less! Registration of REPUBLICAN.BS has been refused on the same grounds.

That oughtta do it! McCain-Feingold my ass. Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands.

UNIVERSAL WARMING

2007-04-05T21:42:00.000-05:00

A planet may be getting warmer ... and it's not Earth:

Temperatures on Mars have increased slightly over a 20-year period due to the action of Martian winds, scientists have found.

Yes. Our entire solar system is going to hell in a handbasket.

ROBOSILLY

2007-03-16T15:00:00.000-05:00

Just a reminder to myself not to think that just because robotics makers once managed to ccme up with a useful one, a trend was born:

What does it do? It dispenses tissues so that people can blow their noses. Really.

Makes this little gizmo seem like a necessesity by comparison:

What does it do? Sounds an alarm (at a pre-set time) then runs away when you hit the snooze button. Really.

Presumably, by time you catch it, you're awake. And it's in pieces, having been kicked, stomped on, thrown against the wall, etc.

ACT YOUR AGE

2007-02-28T21:17:00.000-06:00

You know you're not a kid anymore when you stop whning that you want to sleep in the top bunk and how come the nine year old gets to sleep there and not you.

You know you're middle-aged when you start having long conversations with your friends about medical issues. Also, renovations. Renovations are definitely an older demographic.

But my kids and I are almost equally excited about the upcoming blizzard.

WE THE PEOPLE

2007-02-16T13:02:00.000-06:00

Yesterday's would-be hijacker of Air Mauritania Boeing 737 is now in custody, no thanks to crappy security procedures that allowed the man to board the flight with two loaded pistols. The heroic pilot of the plane figured out that the hijacker couldn't speak French and issued instructions over the public address system to jump the hijacker after he abruptly hit the brakes upon landing. A significant number of the 71 passengers and the crew obliged.

Bravo!

How do you say that in French?

AND THE LOSER IS ...

2007-02-09T19:26:00.000-06:00

Now that they don't have to deal with Anna Nicole Smith any more the last drawback to claiming paternity of her 5 month old child has been removed and the cockroaches are coming out the woodwork, waving their antennae, and having a party.

May I nominate a new entrant: Michael Jackson. It would work in so many ways. Except one: the baby, despite bearing the moniker Dannielynn, is a girl.

HOW COLD IS IT?

2007-02-05T14:39:00.000-06:00

We've been enjoying an arctic fart these past few days here in sunny Minnesota. My kitchen floor was grouted this morning and when the tiler used a wet sponge to remove the excess grout, the floor froze.

I better not tell my kids or they'll want to go skating on it.

JANUARY

2007-01-20T12:58:00.000-06:00

... and coincidentally, this blog appears to be in hibernation mode. The other bloggers have their own excuses, but mine is that I've turned my attention to remodeling our kitchen. Demolition begins Monday. Last week our dumpster was mistakenly delivered to the wrong address (it did find its way back here after several telephone calls). I have been amusing myself by imagining what the lucky family thought/swore when they discovered a dumpster in their driveway.

Let's hope that I can keep up my amused attitude or that no more mishaps ensue.

Hah!

HI/LO

2007-01-08T17:17:00.000-06:00

All three Spitbull authors traveled to Chicago last weekend for a highly anticipated meeting. On Friday we stayed at one the nicest hotels I have ever visited and on Saturday I slept in a sleeping bag on a futon.

We feted a friend at a private club designed by Chicago architect Howard Van Doren Shaw. Later that night we watched a "tasteless" flick (much appreciated by those of us who had not yet passed out) on a wall-size screen in that friend's frightening basement.

Now we're all home.

NOTHING TO SAY BUT MAYBE SOMETHING TO MURMUR

2006-12-31T19:50:00.000-06:00

Our local MSM outlet is mopping its brow with relief:

Ennui and exhaustion are idling some online opiners. Next year may see a decline -- or at least a leveling off --in the blogging boom.

We admit, we at Spitbull haven't exactly been bucking this lazy trend lately. It's not only that we have little of value to post (not that ever stops us when we're in the right mood), but we've been spending far too much time toking this buzz.

I think my favorite munchie of the album is this. But they're all kind of mesmerizing. Hmmm ... those Christmas cookies look quite delicious right now...

WEIRD

2006-12-19T06:56:00.000-06:00

1. This past Saturday--nine days before Christmas and five days before the winter solstice--I went running. Outside, in Minneapolis, wearing shorts. This may or may not be evidence of global warming, but it sure is weird. Not entirely unwelcome, but weird.

2. Last Thursday night I took the kids to the Disney on Ice show at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul. If you've never been to one of these, basically what happens is costumed figure skaters twirl around enacting abridged versions of various Disney movies. And there's a handy intermission, so you can be sure to succumb to buying at least one of the overpriced items of Disney memorabilia that you resisted on the way in, and so Daddy can get another beer.

Anyway, about three stories in--it was Beauty and the Beast, and the Beast had just turned into a not-Beast and was gliding blissfully intertwined with whatever the hell the girl's name is as they pledged their eternal love for each other--the five-year-old turns to me and says, somewhat quizzically, "All these stories end good." Meaning they all have happy endings.

"Would you rather they ended bad?" I responded.

"No," she said, matter-of-factly. "It's just weird."

3. Said five-year-old's mysterious predilection for things Chinese has taken a new turn. In our previous trips to the library, she checked out Chinese language books from the children's section. (Mind you, these are not books about China. These are books in Chinese, which, needless to say, she can't read any more than she can read English.) In our most recent visit, I made the mistake of showing her where the foreign language stacks are for the adult section. She promptly put back the children's video she was going to borrow and chose three Chinese novels.

THE THINGS WE DO

2006-12-17T21:43:00.000-06:00

Is the motivator love? Obligation? I don't know, but this afternoon I occupied a table at the kids' version of Vegas and attempted to corral our designated hostess into giving us plastic forks for the birthday cake (I do know the guests will eat it with their grubby hands, no hesitation, if you don't act quickly).

I've been there before for similar shindigs so I thought I knew the drill but things seemed even more chaotic than I remembered, the hostess more unavailable than I remembered. Finally, she explained. She was a trainee and having some difficulties with her duties. Oh joy. I became more vigilant about the schedule. I called her over again. Weren't the kids supposed to be getting tokens to play the games? Yes, she said, but her twin sister was the one assigned to us and not her. Really.

Of course the kids had a great time anyway. The Warrior Monk had a beer which kept him on an even keel. I? I had a post (the bar is low nowadays).

A CHRISTMAS (SHOPPING) STORY

2006-12-14T11:55:00.000-06:00

I have long reached that stage in life where beautiful young women look at me (if they look at all) solely as a source of babysitting revenue. But Sunday I got not one, but two looks!

She was gorgeous. Probably around 25 or so, blonde, maybe 5'7". Low ride jeans, tight, powder blue top. She was quite thin, but still really nicely curvy, even disproportionately so, in all my favorite places. And – I distinctly remember – she was wearing artsy-looking eyeglasses with green frames. (What is it about eyeglasses that’s so sexy?)

So here’s what happened. I was out Christmas shopping with my two older sons, ages 4 and 2 years old. We came across a store with a revolving door, my 4-year-old’s first encounter with such a fascinating device. Of course I had to let him try it. He went in first, followed by me, holding the 2-year-old in the next section. The gorgeous young woman then entered the next section of the door.

The 4-year-old gathered impressive, properly counter-clockwise momentum, pushing with all his little heart. Then, when he reached the interior of the store, he suddenly decided to go back out the way he came, pushing hard on the opposite wall.

"Stop!" I yelled, but it was just too late. I turned around to warn, but way too late. The door smacked the girl right in the face.

Look #1 was a sort of shock, just what you’d expect of a person unexpectedly thwacked in the face with a heavy glass pane. Look #2 was one I recognize too well – intense irritation.

BOOZE NOTES

2006-12-07T21:53:00.000-06:00

December 7 is an anniversary too, and while it has no particular connection with cocktails, I had one anyway. A Manhattan, to be precise, made to my usual specifications: Maker's Mark, perfect, rocks, heavy on the bourbon. (I'm eager to try the W.L. Weller special reserve that our co-blogger John recommended but I dropped two and a half bills at the liquor store just last weekend. So it'll be another, er, week or two till I make it back there.)

I also mixed the long-awaited Sidecar for Eloise, and it wasn't complicated at all: one ounce brandy (Korbel), 3/4 ounce Cointreau, and 3/4 ounce lemon juice. The only hitch was that fresh lemon juice was called for but we didn't have any lemons so I cheated and used that ReaLemon concentrate stuff that you always have a five-year-old bottle of in your refrigerator door next to the Tabasco and the Worcestershire Sauce. Still, based on the one sip I took, it was quite tasty, if a little summery, and Eloise drank the whole thing in about eight minutes, which is always worthy of applause.

And I agree with John about the Negroni. Although she has apparently forgotten, I made one for Eloise a few weeks ago after reading that same WSJ article, and my sample sip revealed that, damn, Campari is bitter.

Finally, some trivia for you. Did you know that British sailors used to get a standard ration of 8 ounces of rum a day?

Humans discovered long ago that they could not drink sea water, and required significant quantities of fresh water on extended voyages. Since they were unable to desalinate sea water, fresh water was taken on board in casks but quickly developed algae and became slimy. Stagnant water was sweetened with beer or wine to make it palatable which involved more casks and subject to spoilage. As longer voyages became more common, the task of stowage became more and more difficult and the sailors' then-daily ration of a gallon of beer began to add up.

Following Britain's conquest of Jamaica in 1655, a half pint or "2 gills" of rum gradually replaced beer and brandy as the drink of choice. Given to the sailor straight, this caused additional problems, as some sailors would save up the rum rations for several days, then drink them all at once. Due to the subsequent illness and disciplinary problems, the rum was mixed with water. This both diluted its effects, and would make it spoil slower. A half pint of rum mixed with one quart of water and issued in two servings before noon and after the end of the working day became part of the official regulations of the Royal Navy in 1756 and lasted for more than two centuries.

Time for a nightcap.

CHEERS!

2006-12-04T16:05:00.000-06:00

December 5, 2006 is the anniversary of the ratification of the 21st Amendment, a fitting occasion indeed for a toast to distant friends. I will observe it most reverently.

COMPUTER DOPE

2006-11-28T14:40:00.000-06:00

The way to get a sport taken seriously is to ... administer drug tests?

Chess's world governing body will introduce dope testing at the Asian Games this week, although the sport's top official in Doha said he had no idea how drugs could enhance chess performance.

* * *

Drug testing is the latest move by the World Chess Federation (FIDE) to raise international standards in the hope of making chess an Olympic sport in the future.

Russian chess grandmaster Anatoly Karpov's opinion on the doping non-scandal:

There is need for a legal piece of proof. In fact nobody knows what a doping could be in chess. The main doping in chess is an opportunity to get access to a computer during the game. This real kind of doping should be monitored and prevented.

Zero tolerance. Expel the geeks!

POLITICALLY INCORRECT GENES

2006-11-17T22:04:00.000-06:00

I had no idea -- there are genes with "offensive" names that are in the process of being "rebranded." Some soon-to-be no-no's:

"lunatic fringe"
"one-eyed pinhead"
"headcase"

Sounds like they were originally named by my kids.

YEAH YEAH GO VOTE

2006-11-07T15:21:00.000-06:00

... but stop harassing me about it. I've stopped answering the telephone or the door. My trigger finger for political TV ads is well oiled (my remote control, however, is taking a beating).

There seems to be a little mini-scandal going on over robocalling. I wouldn't know; I hang up too fast to even hear who or what they're calling about. And the Monk? He practices phone blackout rules even when there isn't an election in the offing.

UPDATE: We prefer the old-fashioned lawn sign pilferage method of influencing elections in Minnesota thank you very much.

WORST DATING STRATEGY EVER

2006-11-06T17:26:00.000-06:00

I can't help thinking that if this guy didn't get laid after the tour, it's just not going to happen. EVER.

More importantly, $20 says he's a Souter clerk.

WHAT KIND OF KICK DO YOU GET?

2006-11-03T10:57:00.000-06:00

Chilly days (and frigid nights) are back in the Twin Cities and I have been happily introduced to a trashy mystery/thriller series by an acquaintance. Quick reading page-turners are perfect for this nesting weather and these ones are funny to boot.

The series "heroine," a not very competant but very lucky bail bondsman from New Jersey, lives in an apartment building with her pet hamster and a bunch of old geezer neighbors. This excerpt is from the finale of the third book. A bad guy has reflexively tried to shoot the hamster after being bitten:

I had one foot in the hall when I was grabbed from behind and yanked back into the apartment by the man wielding the syringe. I kicked and clawed at him, the two of us wrestling for our lives in front of the door. My foot connected with his crotch and there was a heart-stopping moment of immobility where I saw his eyes widen in pain, and I thought he might shoot me, or stick me or smack me senseless. But then he doubled over and tried to souck air, inadvertently backing out the door, into the hall.

The elevator door opended, and Mrs. Bestler jumped out with her walker. Clomp, clomp, clomp with lightning speed she stomped down the hall and rammed the man, knocking him to his knees.

Mrs. Karwatt's door crashed open, and Mrs. Karwatt trained her .45 on the man on the floor. "What's going on? What did I miss?"

Mr. Kleinschmidt came shuffling down the hall carrying an M-16. "I heard a gunshot."

Mrs. Delgado was right behind Mr. Kleinschmidt. Mrs. Delgado had a cleaver and a blue steel Glock with "sidekick " rubber grips.

Mrs. Karwatt looked at Mrs. Delgado's gun. "Loretta," she said, "you got a new gun." "Birthday present," Mrs. Delgado said proudly. "My daughter Jean Ann gave it to me. Forty calibar, just like the cops use. More stopping power."

"I've been thinking of getting a new gun," Mrs. Karwatt said. "What kind of kick do you get with that Glock?

Just thought some equally chilly Spitbull visitors might enjoy the kick...

FUNNY LAW FIRM STORY

2006-11-02T12:26:00.000-06:00

Click here. Scroll down to "Clara Vondrich (2000)."

Now click here.

NOW WE KNOW WHO IS MAS PEQUENO

2006-10-28T08:51:00.000-05:00

Thoughts upon glancing at a smallish picture just below the fold on the front page of the Strib's sports section this morning:

(1). Ugh. Tony La Russa has joined the execrable modern tradition of bringing one's kids onto the field after big moments in professional sports.

(2). Wait a minute. Isn't Tony La Russa a little old to be the parent of a wee tot?

(3). Oh, that's David Eckstein!

STOCK TIPS GALORE

2006-10-21T12:00:00.000-05:00

Frater Chad passes on suicidal thoughts on the likely outcome of the upcoming elections. I'm, shall we say, less distraught. We'll find out soon enough, and I'm intrigued by the window that will open into the psyche of the American people.

Our local paper recently published a "quiz" adapted from Applebee's America, a book by two former presidential political strategists, that accurately predicted both the Monk and my political leanings from questions about our consumer preferences.

But the data underpinning the book can run both ways so it seems equally interesting to me to try to figure out where America's consumer tastes are headed by reading the election tea leaves. Hey Chad! head off the blues of a donkey win with these savvy stock moves:

Buy Coca-Cola Company (maker of Sprite); short Cadbury Schweppes (Dr. Pepper)
Buy TV Guide. (Unfortunately, you can't short U.S. News & World Report as it is privately held).
Buy Whole Foods; short Wal-mart (no surprise there).
Buy General Motors (owns Saab); short Volkswagen (owns Audi).

Spitbull recommends you hedge your expected political losses with potential financial gains.

THEY EAT TOAST IN CHINA, DON'T THEY?

2006-10-20T17:49:00.000-05:00

Forget Halloween; the five year old is already on to Christmas. She dictated this list for Santa:

Chinese book with words inside
Chinese doll
Chinese teapot
Japanese picture
Chinese movie
Chinese animal
Chinese music box
Chinese checkerboard
Chinese clothes
Chinese hair things
Chinese game
Japanese watch
Chinese chopsticks
Chinese candle
Chinese flute
Chinese clock
Chinese sleeping bag

Why the Asian emphasis? We're not sure. It may have started this summer with her martial arts obsession.

I expected her interest to peter out but no, it seems to have only strengthened over time. This morning she discovered a package of chopsticks left over from a takeout meal and ate (I mean attempted to eat) her toast with it.

Take note, A Relative.

UPDATE: She ate her dinner of hot dogs and apple slices with chopsticks too.

BLOGFASHION

2006-10-17T19:03:00.000-05:00

At Saks Fifth Avenue. Not going to spark a trend, I suspect. And I think there's a reason they didn't show his face...

JUST IN TIME FOR HALLOWEEN

2006-10-12T14:54:00.000-05:00

Mmmmmmm .... maggot juice.

ONE FEWER THING TO WORRY ABOUT

2006-10-06T13:13:00.000-05:00

On the topic of global warming. . .

The 2005 hurricane season was really bad. Record 26 named storms, most major hurricanes ever, most storms in July, most category V storms, etc., etc. And of course there was Katrina, and (worse for us Floridians) Wilma.

You may recall that environmental types were quick to blame global warming. It was all highly dubious science, but this histrionic Boston Globe essay is typical ("The hurricane that struck Louisiana yesterday was nicknamed Katrina by the National Weather Service. Its real name is global warming...."). I didn’t see the damn thing (life is so short), but apparently Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth played up the Katrina thing to great rhetorical effect as well (see this sympathetic account). I mean, the poster for the movie shows a hurricane swirling from a factory smokestack!

So what do these schmoes make of the 2006 season? It’s been a complete breeze! It's October, and just nine named storms, only five of them hurricanes. None of them have been anywhere near major, none have had any significant impact on land.

I guess the globe cooled off this year.

GLOBAL WARMING IS LESS FRIGHTENING

2006-10-03T18:53:00.000-05:00

For the second time, the five year old has come home from school with a (five year old) boy's telephone number scrawled on a sheet of paper in what appears to be red crayon (the previous one was orange). This sheet had a heart (outlined in green marker) cut out of it.

Did I mention that she's taking karate at school (her idea)? Twenty boys. And the five year old. She loves it.

Did I mention that we're already shaking in our boots at the thought of adolescence?

MORE ON APOLOGIES

2006-10-02T09:53:00.000-05:00

This morning’s news is pretty interesting for anyone interested in the art of the apology. As previously noted, this wonderful essay sets forth the gold standard. With that in mind, here’s a couple of apologies to consider.

Congressman Mark Foley, after getting caught sending sexually suggestive electronic communications ("suggestive" may not be the right word for these, actually -- yipes) to underage male pages:

"I strongly believe that I am an alcoholic and have accepted the need for immediate treatment for alcoholism and other behavioral problems."

Is there such thing as an F-minus? It’s not even an apology! "Other behavioral problems," indeed.

Okay, here’s Tennessee defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth, after he stomped on Dallas center Andre Gurode’s face, causing injuries requiring stitches.

"I apologize to Andre. What I did was disgusting. It's something that should never happen. I mean, I'm not a dirty player. I don't play dirty. I have respect for the game. What I feel like is I disgraced the game, disgraced my team and disgraced my last name."

Not bad. Not bad at all.

HYPOTHETICAL MARITAL ADVICE

2006-09-27T16:05:00.000-05:00

If you're married to a woman who has caught a parasitic infection (from a child drinking contaminated swimming pool water), and who has had quite dramatic intestinal problems and no real sleep or food for four days, all while trying to nurse a 4-month-old and take care of a 21-month-old and a 4-year-old. . .

don't point out that "on the bright side" she's lost most of the rest of that pesky pregnancy weight.

THE INDIA AIR FLIGHT 182 INQUIRY

2006-09-27T13:09:00.000-05:00

Canada is conducting a horribly long-overdue inquiry into the 1985 Air India Flight 182 terrorist atrocity. Sikh separatists planted a bomb on a 747 airliner bound from Canada via London to Dehli, India. The bomb exploded when the airliner was just off the coast of Ireland, and all 329 people on board died. The great majority of them were Canadian citizens of Indian heritage. 82 of the dead were children. It was the worst terrorist attack involving an airliner up until 9/11.

The story of Flight 182 is an unbearably unhappy one. Evil men slaughtered innocents wholesale and devastated the lives of many more family members. Even among the good guys there are few heroes. The atrocity was the culmination of massive intelligence, law enforcement, and airline failures. Attempts to bring the perpetrators to justice were decades overdue and wholly ineffectual. The case well illustrates that the law enforcement model is just not the way to address terrorists. Terrorists are at war with us, and the only way to deal with them is to be at war with them, with a maximum of "due" and a minimum of "process."

The inquiry started Tuesday fittingly with the testimony of those who lost loved ones. It was impossible to watch and not cry along with the victims over the losses suffered 21 years ago. I guess pain that great is forever raw.

But there have been a few uplifting moments. Yesterday a witness named Susheel Gupta (scroll down) testified. In 1985 Sush was a 12-year-old boy whose mother was on Flight 182 on a trip to visit relatives back in India. A couple of days after the bombing, Air India chartered a plane to take family members of the dead to Cork, Ireland, where bodies recovered from the Atlantic were being accounted for as much as possible. Sush remembered the Irish this way:

The first day in Ireland was spent just sitting at our hotel or walking around the town. Everyone knew who we were, being brown, we certainly stuck out. I didn't understand why when we were walking around, everyone came up to us to hug both me and my father, offer me candy, shop owners came out of their stores and welcomed us. On one particular occasion, it started to drizzle, then rain. Not something unusual in Ireland. Neither my father nor I had a raincoat. As we were walking a group of three Irish came up to us, greeted us, were crying as they hugged us and then took off their own raincoats and handed one to my father as another individual put his jacket on me, buttoned it up and, pulled the hood over my head and told me to "keep the jacket done up or you are going to catch a cold". My father thanked them and we walked along. Further on a nice woman or elderly gentleman walked up to us and begged us to follow him to his home for some tea and soup "to warm us up". We did. While my father had the tea that was offered, I was given a glass of Coke and more cookies than any kid could dream of. Something my parents would never have allowed me to have.

I wish I knew the names of who these wonderful Irish citizens were, but they will hold a place in my heart forever. It is a strange thing to say, but if there is any place in the world where my mother could have been murdered, I am happy it was in Ireland. The generosity and kindness we received was something I have never experienced anywhere else in the world.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PEDOPHILIA?

2006-09-20T17:25:00.000-05:00

A passage from a book I'm reading right now:

On the first tee Clem said that he had read that golf was like the Catholic Church, full of rules that no one obeys, and characterized by equal amounts of devotion, shame, guilt, and the firm belief that it would be ruined if women were allowed full membership.

PETPOURRI

2006-09-20T12:19:00.000-05:00

The five year old, thwarted in her guinea pig dreams, recently took pet matters in her own hands and bought some sea monkeys. We couldn't really prevent it, though we wanted to. She used her own hard-earned (primarily via tooth loss) cash stash.

But, as predicted, we've ended up being the ones responsible for feeding them and generally keeping them alive. Not that it's that hard, as it turns out. Although the Warrior Monk assured me that his childhood sea monkeys lived only a few days, ours seem to be thriving. I'm alarmed to learn they can grow to be 3/4 of an inch long. What do you do with them then? I've scoured the official web site and I see no reference to eating them, even though they are (a species of brine) shrimp.

And, even if they were edible, the five year old would probably notice and object. Every few days, she checks them out and coos "they're so cute!" Clearly, she has a low standard for pet attractiveness.

So we bought a Roomba. She thinks it's cute too and, so far, is actually cleaning up her room before letting it loose so it doesn't choke on one of her toys.

I feel brilliant.

GOOD THING HE LOOKS PRETTY

2006-09-19T10:57:00.000-05:00

Not that I really keep up on conspiracy theories, but this was a new one to me: native (2/3 of Spitbull is based in the Twin Cities) son/celeb Josh Hartnett recently let loose with this brainwave about the fatal 2002 plane crash of Minnesota Sen. Paul Wellstone:

"It didn't make any sense," Hartnett muses to GQ. "It still doesn't make any sense." President Bush "made something like eight or ten visits to Minneapolis" to support Wellstone's opponent, Norm Coleman. "It was really, really suspicious, but I don't even want to think that."

Yep. That Bush. Too dumb to take out Osama bin Laden, even with the help of the entire civilized world. But crafty enough to secretly assassinate his real enemy: a democratic candidate campaigning for re-election, without anyone (except a 23 year old celebrity) figuring it out.

THE INTOLERABLE TRUTH

2006-09-15T10:51:00.000-05:00

So, the Pope’s in trouble for a speech he gave in Germany:

Benedict quoted from a book recounting a conversation between 14th century Byzantine Christian Emperor Manuel Paleologos II and a Persian scholar on the truths of Christianity and Islam.

"The emperor comes to speak about the issue of jihad, holy war," the pope said. "He said, I quote, 'Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.'"

You might think that adherents of a religion so much in the news for suicide bombings, stabbings, beheadings, and (maybe on an especially merciful day) forced conversions at gunpoint of us infidels might acknowledge at least a grain of truth in what the Pope said.

Instead, here is Pakistan's Foreign Ministry spokesperson Tasnim Aslam, setting a record for unintentional irony at which future foreign ministry spokespersons will shoot in vain:

"Anyone who describes Islam as a religion as intolerant encourages violence."

BUYING BACK YOUR KIDNAPPED RELATIVES IS ENCOURAGED, HOWEVER

2006-09-09T13:46:00.000-05:00

The list of Islamic no-no's gets longer every day. Today's addition, in Saudi Arabia: cat and dog purchases.

"One bad habit spreading among our youths is the acquisition of dogs and showing them off in the streets and malls," wrote Aleetha al-Jihani in a letter to Al-Madina newspaper. "There's no doubt that such a matter makes one shudder."

"Then what's the point of dragging a dog behind you?" he added. "This is blind emulation of the infidels."

* * *
The ban distressed cat and dog lovers. Some have wondered why the religious police are focusing on this issue when the country has far more important challenges, such as terrorism and unemployment.

'Ya think?

NOT FADE AWAY

2006-09-07T09:04:00.000-05:00

Buddy Holly would have been 70 today. He didn't make it to age 23, but oh man he made some great music in that short time. (Nice Wikipedia bio here.)

My wife and I are huge fans. Five years ago we were driving across country and made a point to stop at the Buddy Holly Center in Lubbock, Texas. We spent more time there than at the Grand Canyon.

Not taking anything away from Elvis, but Buddy Holly was the real prototype rocker. He wrote his own songs, played lead guitar, and sang up front. The next generation (e.g. Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Keith Richards) idolized him. The Crickets had a crack rhythm section too. (Jerry Allison positively invented the "cool drummer" thing. You have to see him on the old Ed Sullivan Show clips.)

This is the utimate collection. Here's an excellent tribute CD (apparently out of print). I liked this biography very much too.

COINCIDENCE? YOU DECIDE

2006-09-06T10:06:00.001-05:00

Last week Learned Foot speculated (not unreasonably, we admit) that Chad's over-hyped "disturbing development" could be news that:

Spitbull squeezed out of Northern Alliance in binding share exchange; nobody notices.

Today, local alternative paper City Pages named Spitbull Minnesota Blog of the Day.

Spitbull: the elusive swing blog. Now, where's our pork?

NAME THAT STORM

2006-08-31T11:49:00.000-05:00

Just when I think they've run out of good ones, our co-blogger finally gets a hurricane named after him (fortunately, or unfortunately, it doesn't look to be a scary one). My other co-blogger and myself are not up for the honor until 2009.

Here's my favorite naming flotsam and jetsam:

Baby name popularity over time.
Surname incidence in the UK (1881 and 1998 so you can see how your kinfolk spread or died out) and a rudimentary distribution application for the US.

UPDATE: One problem with publishing hurricane names years out into the future: it attracts scammers. Potential hurricane web site names have been snapped up, ready to be unleashed on the concerned citizenry when the next big one strikes.

WIKIPEDIA vs. ENCYLOPEDIA BRITANNICA

2006-08-30T15:20:00.000-05:00

I like the former so much better. By way of illustrative example, you will never learn from Britannica that winners of the Miss Wisconsin pageant go on to markedly limited success in the Miss America pageant.

While we're on the topic of attractive young women who are not my wife, here is Christopher Hitchens on Commandments Six through Ten:

Then it's a swift wrap-up with a condemnation of adultery (from which humans actually can refrain) and a prohibition upon covetousness (from which they cannot). To insist that people not annex their neighbor's cattle or wife "or anything that is his" might be reasonable, even if it does place the wife in the same category as the cattle, and presumably to that extent diminishes the offense of adultery. But to demand "don't even think about it" is absurd and totalitarian, and furthermore inhibiting to the Protestant spirit of entrepreneurship and competition.

One is presuming (is one not?) that this is the same god who actually created the audience he was addressing. This leaves us with the insoluble mystery of why he would have molded ("in his own image," yet) a covetous, murderous, disrespectful, lying, and adulterous species. Create them sick, and then command them to be well? What a mad despot this is, and how fortunate we are that he exists only in the minds of his worshippers.

CHEERS!

2006-08-24T14:35:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to my co-blogger Warrior Monk for his tireless efforts to make Minneapolis #2!

CRAP JUST WANTS TO BE FREE

2006-08-24T14:34:00.000-05:00

Bob Dylan on illegal music downloads: "It was like, 'everybody's gettin' music for free'. I was like, 'well, why not? It ain't worth nothing anyway'."

RIPPING WINS OUT

2006-08-24T14:03:00.000-05:00

We get our home Internet access via a wireless router linked to a broadband access point, as do most folks we know around here (come to think of it, I think my mom is the only person left on the planet who still does wired dial-up).

I thought we were pretty nifty by having an Internet on-ramp for any wireless-equipped PC in range but I was wrong. Now we're nifty: our stereo has joined our network via this gadget.

Bottom line: I can now use my computer to play iTunes music on the stereo. My computer can be anywhere in network range and so long as the mongo hard drive housing the iTunes library is on and in range, I can control the stereo (which is in the basement). It's like magic.

Bottomer line: I am on a mission to finally rip all our CD's to iTunes. And we have an awful lot of CD's. Blogging? Qu'est que c'est?

GREAT MOMENTS IN CINEMA, LAW

2006-08-20T12:50:00.000-05:00

Nicolas Cage is going to direct and star in a movie about Liberace, and it reminded me of one of the strangest court cases of modern times.

In 1956, Liberace embarked on a European tour, arriving first in London. A tabloid called The Daily Mirror ran an essay by a columnist pennamed "Cassandra" that dispaired at the cheering receptions greeting Liberace's arrival. It read in relevant part:

He is the summit of sex—Masculine, Feminine and Neuter. Everything that He, She and It can ever want. . . . I have spoken to sad but kindly men on this newspaper who have met every celebrity arriving from the United States for the past thirty years. They all say that this deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavored, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love has had the biggest reception and impact on London since Charlie Chaplin arrived at the same station, Waterloo, on September 12, 1921.

The essay went on in similar vein, referring to Liberace variously as "a calculating candy-floss," a "slag-heap of lilac-covered hokum," and (my personal favorite) a "sugary mountain of jingling claptrap wrapped up in such a preposterous clown."

Liberace sued for libel, claiming the tabloid falsely and maliciously accused him of being gay. See this fascinating account of the trial here.

Both parties took completely preposterous positions. The Daily Mirror claimed that it wasn't saying that Liberace was gay. For his part, Liberace said the following:

Q: "Are you a homosexual?"
A: "No, sir."
Q: "Have you ever indulged in homosexual practices?"
A: "No, sir, never in my life. I am against the practice because it offends convention and it offends society."

That last answer is telling. Someone who really wasn't gay probably would have said "because I like women," or at least "because it just doesn't sound like fun to me."

In the end, Liberace won the suit and $22,000 in damages, plus court costs.

WE'RE BACK!

2006-08-14T20:32:00.000-05:00

Spitbull (well, 2/3 of us anyway) has returned from our obligatory annual vacation. We escaped the relatives relatively unscathed and had a cheerful liquid and gel-free return flight.

Unfortunately, however, during the "vacation" the five year old visited a "farm" and discovered the existence of guinea pigs. She is smitten, or claims to be, and we have been forced to fashion anti-guinea pig speeches about every hour or so.

Our customary dizzying posting pace should return as soon as we unpack. Unless we find a guinea pig in the kids' room.

FINALLY!

2006-07-30T21:37:00.000-05:00

The five year old has lost her first tooth. She is perpetually hard up for cash (she tends to misplace it) so has looked forward to the easy money of tooth barter for some time.

She dictated this note:

Dear Tooth Fairy:

My tooth is in this box. This is the first tooth I even lost. Don’t look under my pillow, because, as I said, my tooth is in this box. This one right here --->

I love you.

Love,

/s/ [the five year old]

P.S. Take the tooth but don’t take the box. I have to give it back to [my sister]

The box was our idea as the tooth fairy has been known to overlook teeth left under the pillow without protection (we didn't reveal that she almost always leaves the dough even if she can't find the tooth).

We are all anxiously awaiting Flitterpuff's visit.

UPDATE: and now her sister has lost a tooth too! The Tooth Fairy is going to experience a cash crunch if this keeps up.

ATONEMENT 101

2006-07-30T18:06:00.000-05:00

This wonderful essay by Dennis Prager sets forth the gold standard for how to say you're sorry. Fittingly it’s all about Jewish insights into sin, forgiveness, and atonement. Definitely read the whole thing, but it lists seven essential criteria:

First, Judaism holds that God directly forgives only sins against God. For God to forgive our sins against our fellow human beings, we must first get the forgiveness of those who have been sinned against.

Second, Judaism holds that only the victim of a sin may forgive. If I steal from Jones, Smith is in no position to forgive me. Jones, and only Jones -- not Smith, not all of humanity, not (yet) God -- can forgive me the wrong I have done.

Third, to obtain forgiveness, I must repent -- that is, I must feel genuine regret for what I have done. This is axiomatic, but it must be stressed because of the current, bizarre trend toward forgiving people who have never even said "I'm sorry." God himself does not forgive us unless we repent, which is one reason why our own forgiving of those who have never repented is not allowed. Another is that doing so removes the incentive all of us need to face our wrongdoing honestly. If we are forgiven without repenting, why repent?

Fourth, also axiomatic, a sinner must acknowledge that he has sinned in the first place. Unfortunately, many people these days have rejected the concept of sin altogether. They prefer "mistake. . . ." But a mistake is unintentional; it is rarely the right word to describe wrongdoing. A second preferred term is "sickness." We have substituted psychological categories for moral ones. Yet "sickness" is entirely different from "sin." If I have sinned, then I am responsible for what I have done. But if I did something because I was sick, how can I be held responsible? My sickness (or "addiction") caused me to do it. And if I am not responsible for my sin, repentance is unnecessary.

Fifth, Judaism holds that a sin must be acknowledged precisely. To merely say "I have sinned" is mostly meaningless. We are all sinners, after all. Only by specifying the sin can the true penitent move on to the next step.

Sixth, the penitent must resolve not to commit the sin again. The third-century Babylonian teacher, Rabbi Judah, defined a true penitent as one who twice more encountered the object that caused his original transgression and yet managed to avoid committing the sin. He gave as an example, "the same woman, at the same time, in the same place."

Seventh, the person who wishes to make amends for wrongdoing -- to truly atone for what he has done to other human beings -- must acknowledge that he deserves punishment. Otherwise expressions of regret can be hollow. "I take full responsibility" is a meaningless phrase unless it is accompanied by a willingness to suffer consequences.

So, what do you think -- how does Mel Gibson's apology stack up?

MEL ON JEWS

2006-07-29T14:20:00.000-05:00

Christopher Hitchens is a smart guy, right? In 2004 he wrote a Slate essay that was scathingly critical of Mel Gibson, making the startling assertion that -- aside from generally being a jerk and a bore -- Gibson was an anti-Semite and even a Holocaust denier. Here's an excerpt from the essay (discussing an earlier, "simperingly lenient" interview of Mel Gibson by Peggy Noonan):

Noonan asked him a question that he must have known was coming, and which he must have prepared for, and she asked him in effect to "make nice" and agree that the Holocaust actually had occurred. His answer was, to all effects and purposes, a cold and flat "no." A lot of people, he agreed, had died in the last war. No doubt many Jews were among the casualties. It's one of the most frigid and shrugging things I have ever read. You would not know from this response that the war was begun by a fascist ruling party that believed in a Jewish world conspiracy, and thus that all of those killed were in part victims of anti-Semitism. . . .

But then, you were not brought up by Mel Gibson's father, who has repeatedly and recently stated that there was a population explosion among European Jews in the years 1933-1945 and that the Holocaust story is mainly "fiction." Young Gibson, when asked about this by Diane Sawyer, told her not to press him (which she obediently did not). But when asked by Noonan, he replied by saying that "My father has never told me a lie."

So here it is 2006, and Gibson is arrested for going 87 in a 45 while lit. Here's an account of the arrest:

TMZ has learned that [Los Angeles County Sheriff's] Deputy Mee audiotaped the entire exchange between himself and Gibson, from the time of the traffic stop to the time Gibson was put in the patrol car, and that the tape fully corroborates the written report.

Once inside the car, a source directly connected with the case says Gibson began banging himself against the seat. The report says Gibson told the deputy, "You mother f****r. I'm going to f*** you." The report also says "Gibson almost continually [sic] threatened me saying he 'owns Malibu' and will spend all of his money to 'get even' with me."

The report says Gibson then launched into a barrage of anti-Semitic statements: "F*****g Jews... The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world." Gibson then asked the deputy, "Are you a Jew?"

UPDATE BY ELOISE: The Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department's civilian oversight office announces it will investigate whether authorities gave Gibson preferential treatment and tried to cover up alleged offensive comments and behavior. Gibson issues a statement: "After drinking alcohol on Thursday night, I did a number of things that were very wrong and for which I am ashamed."

RAISING THE BAR

2006-07-25T20:39:00.000-05:00

From Sheetrock & Shellac:

Ray [who owned an excavating business] had mixed feelings about [his six year old son's fascination with equipment catalogs] ... Nevertheless, every so often he would take his son to a flat area near his home and let him spend a couple hours digging a real hole with a real backhoe while Ray sat on a rock and watched. This made his son one of the three or four happiest six-year-olds in the world, and made me feel like a bad father. Fortunately, my son never found out.

Fortunately, I am not prone to parental guilt. And fortunately, I do not have a son. And although my five year old daughter might be interested, I have no intention of sharing the possibility of real backhoe games with her. But it does sound cool, doesn't it?

YOU CAN SLEEP WHEN YOU ARE DEAD

2006-07-17T15:31:00.000-05:00

The Folgers ad that some doubted was even real (and many dubbed "creepy," or the midwestern equivalent, "unusual") is viewed as a success (feedback "has been quite positive"). By "real" I mean sponsored by the Folgers folks, not made by unmedicated ad people. Because it clearly wasn't.

My favorite part was the growling dog. But then I'm a Medaglia D'Oro drinker.

BACK TO THE DIFFERENT TOPIC

2006-07-14T07:05:00.000-05:00

OK, by "the long way," I'm guessing you mean something along these lines:

Now, this is something I most assuredly can't do, at my desk or in my home or at the point of a gun or under any other conceivable circumstance. And to infer that someone who has the ability to do this would have the ability to do any number of, er, untoward things requires only the barest wisp of imagination for one with a certain cast of mind. (Hey John, I don't know what made me think of this, but have you talked to Randy lately?) But unless ~~peckerhead~~ city licensing officer Steve LaTour's next plan is to shut down the Summer Olympics, our mystery contortionist must have gone way beyond this.

Just how far beyond? We won't know the answer until the MSM gets off its lazy, Bush-hating, anti-American ass and does a little reporting for us. Or until we give Randy a call.

ON A DIFFERENT TOPIC

2006-07-12T16:35:00.000-05:00

Hey Spitbull readers, most of you are in Minnesota -- What exactly did this "really flexible" lady do, and how did it violate state law? (Duluth IS in Minnesota, right?)

UPDATE: I am reliably informed by a learned Spitbull reader that the law at issue can be found here, and that there are First Amendment issues, contortion (contorting?, contortionism?) being arguably Constitutionally protected speech.

UPDATE II: I am reliably informed by Warrior Monk that Duluth is in fact in Minnesota, and that "it isn't bad at all," at least in the non-winter months.

UPDATE III: But I am still not informed, reliably or otherwise, what the flexible lady did to offend the local constabulary.

TOO TIRED TO THINK OF A TITLE

2006-07-11T01:06:00.000-05:00

Sunday afternoon I took the five year old (whom we shall call ELK) for a ride on the Lake Harriet trolley. Her older sister had been at a friend's house since mid-morning, none of the little neighborhood folk seemed to be around, and I felt like I owed her a little entertainment. It's a strange feeling that comes over me every so often. Usually I squelch it, figuring that I paid good money for a basement full of Skanx (Slutz? Implantz? Something like that) dolls and toys and DVDs and computer games, go play with them already, what do I look like anyway, a cruise director? But this time I decided to give in. Plus she had been talking about the trolley for about a month. Quite the swell dad I am.

Once we bought our tokens and she put hers in the meter, she lost most of her interest in the ride and pulled out the little notebook she's been carrying around for the last few days. She's writing a story, she says. Since the only word she really knows is her own name, I wondered what was inside and asked her if I could look at it. And what did I see but page after page after page of more or less horizontal pencil lines. I felt like Shelley Duvall in The Shining when she discovers that Jack Nicholson's supposed novel is actually endless reams of "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Me: "Hey ELK."

ELK: "What?"

Me: "You don't have an axe in your other pocket, do you?

ELK: "Huh?"

Me: "Never mind."

Pause.

Me: "Did you just say 'redrum'?"

ELK: "Daddy, you're weird."

Actually, that conversation didn't happen. But if I don't exercise my poetic license every once in a while, it's liable to get revoked.

(I did feel like Shelley Duvall though, a brand new experience for me which I hope never to repeat.)

THIS IS THE MOST BORING POST I'VE EVER WRITTEN

2006-07-08T13:44:00.000-05:00

Recent unpleasant news that "they" were hiking our home insurance premiums significantly finally raised me from my inertial torpor and to the Internet for a lucrative round of comparison shopping. Shazaam! Cut my home/auto rates by nearly 40% (told you this post was boring). Turns out we're completely typical here: an industry report says "the average consumer can reduce their auto premiums by forty-percent through comparative price shopping on the Internet." So hold your nose and just do it.

The ultimate savings we enjoyed livened up an undeniably dull process: how far is our house from the nearest fire hydrant? Have we had any moving violations in the last five years? If the inquiring mind wanted to know my mind was not instinctively inquiring. But I slogged through and was rewarded in the end.

So perhaps now you can forgive me when I say my first thought regarding the latest political dust-up between candidates for recently-retired Congressman Martin Sabo's open seat, was wow! they must pay a lot for insurance:

State Rep. Keith Ellison, a leading DFL candidate in the Minneapolis-based district, acknowledged Thursday that he recently had a suspended driver's license for nonpayment of parking tickets, an infraction that is drawing attention on political blog sites.

One of his DFL rivals, Mike Erlandson, also has kept traffic cops busy, with seven moving violations -- including five speeding tickets -- since 2000, and the Republican candidate, Alan Fine, has had four moving violations, three of them for speeding.

State records also show that Ellison has received nine traffic tickets for moving violations since January of 2000.

Holy moly that's a lot. Weirdly enough, it seems to be an occupational hazard: a 2003 report shows that politicians are the fourth most likely occupation to rack up speeding violations, after students, enlisted military and manual laborers. Least likely? Homemakers.

KEN LAY BEATS THE RAP

2006-07-05T10:02:00.000-05:00

Under the doctrine of "abatement ab initio," a defendant who dies after the jury convicted him but before the judge sentences him "stands as if he never had been indicted or convicted" in the first place. See United States v. Logal, 106 F.3d 1547, 1552 (11th Cir. 1997) (citations omitted). ["Stands?!" -- sorry, unfortunate choice of words was in the original.] There won't even be any criminal restitution against him. It's one of those venerable common law principles found nowhere in any statute, but recognized by the United States Supreme Court as early as 1884. See Ex Parte Schreiber, 110 U.S. 76.

RACE 'YA!

2006-06-28T17:11:00.000-05:00

If photographs had been taken, or video shot, last night I'm sure it would have the power to excite great nostalgia some day. The kind of ache that makes a suspicious viewer like myself think there must have been some catch to that pristine scene: horrific mosquitos, dreadful marital tension or a sad accident following the footage. But no. I killed the only mosquito before it bit anyone (yes, I guess I do kill bugs) and so far the marriage and trauma states seem pretty hunky-dory.

It was simply a stunning summer evening, with lovely indirect light and cool breezes. Neighbors flocked, especially the children. Almost at the traffic jam level on the sidewalk when one kid parked his bike temporarily and the rest of the scooters, trikes and bicycles had to negotiate around it, with varying degrees of success.

The five year old must have felt the moment when she insisted that she wanted her training wheels off, NOW. Wanted to ride a two-wheeler. And, after about 10 minutes of instruction and falls (all onto soft grass -- she didn't add even one band-aid to her impressive collection of body art), she did.

The neighbor boy, who is seven, and seems to have a crush on our nine year old, was even kind enough to demonstrate how to push down on the top pedal to get started. The five year old watched carefully. We suggested the nine year old demonstrate using the five year old's bike (the nine year old didn't have her own bike out, she was scootering). Being the obedient child, she did, despite the fact that the five year old spent the entire time jumping up and down and shrieking with the frustration of being parted from her newly two-wheeled bike. Nonetheless, somehow she got the hang of it.

Ten minutes later, she challenged the neighbor boy to a race. Without success. The neighbor boy likes older women. In this case, the nine year old.

INTERNET VIRUSES GET POLITICAL

2006-06-20T17:38:00.000-05:00

A spam analysis center has warned a Trojan horse is being spammed out to email addresses disguised as a message claiming that George W. Bush and Tony Blair are conspiring with oil companies to push up gas prices:

Dear colleagues and friends

We are circulating an attachment proving the major oil companies are working closely with certain politicians (as can be seen in the attached photo) to keep petrol prices at an all time high.

After a year of rising prices it is the public that are now bearing the cost of the fall out in the Middle East. Do you think this is fair? Bush and Blair can be seen shaking hands with the president of BP and Texaco after a hush hush meeting. The attached article shows that Bush and Blair know that high petrol prices drives Barrel prices up-words and so in turn increases the value of stockpiled oil. This is hiding the costs of the recent and on-going troubles in the Middle East and is a ploy to keep the current Governments confidence rating high in the public eye.

If you're pissed enough about that "high" government confidence rating to open the attachment, your computer gets infected.

Other come-ons being used by the hackers to distribute the Trojan horse include news reports that Michael Jackson has committed suicide or that Osama Bin Laden has been killed.

OK, those seem pretty bipartisan, but why aren't there any extreme righty ones? Don't the hackers think they would fall for them? After all, aren't Bush supporters just a "horde of ignoramuses"?

SHOULD I BE CONCERNED?

2006-06-19T21:57:00.000-05:00

Even for a girl, I'm kind of wimpy. When I lived in Washington D.C., in my youth, I trapped the cockroaches under glasses and left them scattered around to await my mother's (hopefully bloodthirsty) return. In New York City (living on my own) I would loudly stamp my feet before I entered the kitchen to give the insects time to scatter. I should have insisted that "I promise to kill all the icky bugs for you" be part of my beloved's marriage vows.

So I don't understand, genetically, where the five year old came from. Aside from the fact that she has been nonchalantly squishing bugs since the moment her eyes became coordinated enough to focus on them, that she became fascinated with the PBS series about the French and Indian War, there's the recent matter of her chosen bedtime reading material. Or rather, her choice of our reading material, as she cannot yet read herself: Pompeii: Buried Alive. The book describes people beginning their day but "no one in the house knew something terrible was going to happen." She got it out of the library and has had us read it twice today. I think it's kind of creepy, but she is calmly interested. I never would have liked such a book at her age. Hell, I didn't make it past the tornado scene in the Wizard of Oz until after college. I admitted it already. I'm a wimp.

But the five year old just re-emerged from her bedroom complaining that she's afraid she can't fall asleep tonight. Got her! Who's the wimp now? Not being able to fall asleep is definitely not something I'm afraid of.

YOU WIN SOME, YOU LOSE SOME

2006-06-17T16:08:00.000-05:00

The nine year old discovered the joys of Harry Potter around Easter this year, after years of disdain due to the author's mistake in making the main protagonist a boy and therefore surely uninteresting. She rocketed through all six books and promptly began to read the whole series again from the beginning.

As she sat on the couch a few hours ago, deep in Book 3, I piously intoned some slop about how while reading is great exercise for her mind, it was important to exercise her body as well and she shouldn't forget about the importance of seemingly pointless expenditures of energy, at which the five year old is so adept. (No, I do not practice what I preach).

A few minutes ago, she announced that she was going to ride her bike around the block.

I would crow that I'm clearly the uber-mom, except that yesterday the five year old covered the faces of all her dolls with "sunscreen," or as most folks would call it, Vaseline.

PODDIE POTTY

2006-06-13T11:54:00.000-05:00

(Via Popgadget)

Does this mean that the iPod phenom has finally jumped the shark? Or is it simply another nail in the coffin of the MSM -- an invasion of the last refuge of its (former) readers?

QUESTION(S) OF THE DAY

2006-06-10T11:01:00.000-05:00

Has any child in history ever used an entire 4 ounce bottle of Elmer's glue over the course of a school year?

(Dumping it all out in one go doesn't count.) The nine year old has emptied her school locker and desk out. School's out!

And who was Elmer anyway? [Googling] Apparently, a bull. But not a Spitbull.

VERANDA UPDATE

2006-06-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

The last pavers are being laid as I blog! Now to furnish it. Turns out there are quite a few eco-ideas. In Goldilocks mode, I rate them:

Really dumb: a biodegradable bench.

Comfy but buggy.

Just right!

MEMORIAL DAY

2006-05-29T12:50:00.000-05:00

Both of my grandfathers served in World War II. One, Charles J. Schueller, was an Army Captain and a doctor who spent four years in North Africa and Italy, from 1942 to 1946. He survived the war--though he nearly succumbed to a extreme case of malaria--and returned home to Dubuque, Iowa. My mother was four years old and met him for the first time when he got off the train. He practiced medicine in Dubuque for another forty years, and he died not quite six years ago after a long illness. He was an often cantankerous man who did not suffer fools gladly, but he was also, I'm told, an expert diagnostician and deft surgeon who was held in high esteem by his patients.

My other grandfather, Nicholas L. Koster, was not so lucky. After growing up in Cascade, Iowa, he enlisted in the Navy in the mid-1930s and served on a number of submarines, rising to the rank of Chief Motor Machinist Mate. On December 29, 1943, he left Pearl Harbor aboard the USS Scorpion (SS-278) for a war patrol in the northern East China and Yellow Seas. Contact with the Scorpion ceased in February 1944, and on March 6, 1944, the vessel was presumed lost, probably due to a recently laid enemy mine line.

I have nothing to add, really. I just thought that Memorial Day was deserving of some memorializing.

JUST SIT THERE QUIETLY! PART II

2006-05-27T15:30:00.000-05:00

I'm no fan of bridezilla-sized weddings, but this is ridiculous:

The Climate Care group says the average wedding emits 14.5 tons of carbon dioxide. When set against the 12 tons emitted by the average person during a year, it means getting married can cost the environment as much as the father of the bride.

Ms Culver offers personal consultations, a "green audit" of the planned event and, if needed, eco-friendly management of the day.

Makes me root for foie gras to be served at the next nuptial I attend. With plastic disposable cutlery.

Just Sit There Quietly! has just spawned a series. The original post is here.

I'M OKAY, YOU'RE TOO FAT

2006-05-23T14:37:00.000-05:00

We're all fascinated by the American obesity endemic. Admit it. It's reassuring that no matter where you fall on the fatass scale there's always someone with a fatter ass than you. And frequently you get to watch that disembodied ass waltz slowly away from the camera on national TV (no face shown, in case it's you they filmed; gotta avoid those lawsuits). Oooh boy do they need to go on a diet!

And when we get tired of shaking our heads (too much like exercise) at the fat folks, we can gasp at the food that might be the culprit. I'm not talking McDonald's. McDonald's is for amateurs. Behold, the "hamdog," a half-pound of hamburger meat wrapped around a hotdog, which is deep-fried and served on a hoagie topped with chili, bacon and a fried egg:

No wonder the "stunning new research" doesn't seem so stunning:

Americans had higher rates of diabetes, heart disease, strokes, lung disease and cancer -- findings that held true no matter what income or education level.

Those dismal results are despite the fact that U.S. health care spending is double what England spends on each of its citizens.

Maybe we really ought to forgo that whopper. But wait! Turns out even fat Brits are healthier than fat Americans. So, what's the reason for the difference?

The New York Times thinks it's our eagerness to label and diagnose people.
Slate says it's stress.
Winterspeak speculates that it's because we're not dead yet:

... [maybe] Americans were less healthy than the British because they were less dead. Advances in medical care have basically moved people from being dead to being alive but unwell, which is why all arguments that better health reduces medical costs are bogus (they may delay some medical costs, but we all need to go sometime and we usually do it kicking, screaming, and running up expensive medical bills). ...

The Warrior Monk thinks the root cause is that we don't drink enough Guinness over here. I believe he's conducting a Phase I study of the subject.

TOOTH FAIRY ECONOMICS

2006-05-22T14:20:00.000-05:00

We at Spitbull are fascinated, one might say even obsessed, with the science of fake etymology. After all, we're the ones that uncovered irrefutible evidence of the tooth fairy's real name. And now here's another gem to add to our collection:

Jon Stewart: Uh, the way you've explained the tax cuts doesn't really seem fair.

John Hodgman: Fairness isn't really the point. They don't call economics the dismal science because it's fair.

JS: Well, I suppose not.

JH: No, no, they call it that after Sir Eustice Dismal. The 18th century English economist who proposed making smokestacks out of children.

JS: I uh, I actually never knew that.

JH: Yes, it was a very interesting proposal but ultimately flawed. I mean if you make the smokestacks out of children who will you force to clean them?...

JH: Yes, it's referred to as Dismal's paradox.

(Via Marginal Revolution)

We did not know that!

And, if you ask Spitbull, passing out negotiable tender in exchange for, of all things, human teeth, should be known as the Dismal Deal. Our heart goes out to Flitterpuff. (No, we don't want to know what she intends to do with all those teeth, thank you).

MAYBE I SHOULD'VE PICKED THIS ONE

2006-05-19T11:47:00.000-05:00

Five and a half years ago I lost a fight over clothing issues with the (now) nine year old. She insisted on wearing a dress to day care on a subzero Minnesota morning (day care in Minnesota has the kids go outside to play no matter what the temperature--toughens them up I guess). She was willing to wear a clashing pair of pants underneath but I, sleep-deprived and stupid from the recent birth of her younger sister, said no. The stand-off continued until it slowly dawned on me that my daughter's choice of what to wear didn't matter so long as it wasn't likely to make her sick. Style is an oxymoron where a three year old is concerned. As I gave in I promised myself never to pick a fashion fight with my kids again.

And I never have (my all-time favorite outfit choice consisted of a raggedy pink tutu worn over a jumper sewn by my nearly-blind grandmother, rubber ducky boots and topped off with an Easter bunny ears headband).

So that's why I said OK when the five year old decided to paint her nails pink in anticipation of today's kindergarten welcome session (she starts school this fall). Well, that and a short-sighted bid for peace to try to get a few last-minute items done for work. So she painted her nails ... and her hands and her shirt. The Warrior Monk was appalled and hosed her down with nail polish remover. Yes, they were late to the welcome "party." But they had a good time and no one seems to have commented on the odd pink spots on her shirt. Is that vindication?

IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT

2006-05-15T21:52:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to our co-blogger John!

BIT EME

2006-05-10T20:42:00.000-05:00

Sisyphus revels in the glories of modern art. Be sure to read his response to the rabble that take issue.

SPITBULL, ON THE OTHER HAND, DOES NOT CARE FOR BABIES

2006-05-03T13:49:00.000-05:00

Savvy politicos know to watch their candidate's Wikipedia entry to prevent hanky-panky but do they know how to safeguard electronic advertising systems?:

Bewildered Toronto train passengers were left scratching their heads after a hacker altered advertising signs to announce that Stephen Harper, the country's prime minister, "eats babies".

An unidentified ne'er-do-well broke into systems controlling electronic signs on Toronto's westbound Lakeshore GO Transit train to substitute transport updates for banners mocking the Canadian political leader.
Scrolling LED signs on several trains repeated the message "Stephen Harper Eats Babies" every three seconds during the duration of the attack, which took place on Thursday and Friday last week as well as Monday 1 May. Some commuters, unsurprisingly, thought they were hallucinating.

SECURITY GETS ARTY

2006-04-28T16:26:00.000-05:00

The art world has become interested in security. MoMA (NY's Museum of Modern Art) has a web site devoted to "objects designed to protect body and mind" (associated with a recent exhibit "Safe: Design takes on Risk." German artist Matthias Megyeri designs kitschy devices to "emphasise how security devices can be oppressive."

Doesn't actually make feel oppressed though.

Nor does this:

Or this:

But it's OK if you just think they're cool and want to buy one. Mr. Megyeri has formed a company and sells them. Everything looks friendly but is really mean. Or something like that.

CRACK STORY

2006-04-28T15:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning at the federal courthouse, I encountered an elderly couple. They got on the elevator at the same time as I did. They were probably in their mid-70s and impeccably dressed. He was in a old but well cared for, three piece suit. She was wearing a dress and a hat. They looked as if they were going to church on Easter Sunday 1955. He held her elbow as he escorted her. They both just exuded an utterly natural mannerliness that you don’t see anymore. It made me think of and miss my own grandmother, long deceased, for the first time in too long.

I pushed a button, but they looked confused. I asked them if they needed help finding something. They said they needed to find the courtroom, that their grandson had a court appearance. There are courtrooms on many floors of the building, so I invited them to step off while I looked up the case for them. A receptionist handed me the court schedule and after a few moments I found the hearing.

It was not going to be a happy event. The schedule said that it was a criminal sentencing. The prosecutor listed has a caseload of 100 percent serious drugs and guns cases. They’ll be seeing the grandson in an orange jumpsuit, laceless shoes, and chains, and they won’t be allowed to talk to or touch him. And it was before a judge not especially known for his leniency.

I told them where to go, and they thanked me, said goodbye, and walked slowly off to the elevator again, his hand still at her elbow.

I later heard that the sentencing was continued for some reason, so the grandparents will be making one more trip to the courthouse. According to the case paperwork, the grandson is 27 years old. He was selling crack while carrying a 9 mm handgun. He had at least two prior state felony convictions, the latter for selling crack just a couple of years ago. It's all so backwards. The natural order is for grandkids to bring joy into their granparents' lives.

He’s about to find out about that federal sentences can be a whole different ball game. When he gets out of prison, he’ll be in his late-30s. (That's if he’s lucky. Depending on his criminal history, it could be much worse.) I hope the Bureau of Prisons designates him somewhere close, maybe to the nearest federal penitentiary, 140 miles away. Otherwise that sweet old couple is never going to see him again.

SPITBULL OVERLOOKED ... AGAIN

2006-04-28T12:57:00.000-05:00

Nearly half of the Northern Alliance of Blogs (and its creator) were down today - reportedly due to an attack on a Hosting Matters network coming from computers in Saudi Arabia. Hosting Matters says everyone is back up now ... except,

The target of the attack will not be brought back online and will be removed from the main network in the event they are the target of future attacks, so as not to negatively impact other clients.

Powerline or Hugh Hewitt may have been the target ... they're still unreachable.

The MOB appears to be unscathed though. Draw your own conclusions.

UPDATE: The speculation is that the attack is related to the Pakistan government's list of banned web sites, namely its honoree Aaron's cc: (author of Aaron's Rantblog and Aaron the Liberal Slayer) and publisher of cartoons more offensive than the infamous Danish doodles.

Hewitt is up, but Powerline's still down...

ISLAM IN SPACE

2006-04-26T14:45:00.000-05:00

The problems are myriad; an entire two day conference on the subject in Malaysia ends today. Not only do Muslims need to figure out which way Mecca is when they're in orbit, they may need to pray every 18 minutes (in order to reach their 5 times a day obligation on a craft that orbits the earth every 90 minutes). And how will they even be able to uh, assume the position, in the first place?

"When you're in a zero-gravity environment, you're floating around and as soon as you go into rukuk (a prayer position), that motion will project itself forward, and maybe you'll do a somersault or go into some other direction. So you're going to have to be held down or something"

I want to know how they're going to make the Tang hallaal.

GOOD COOK BAD COOK

2006-04-19T15:12:00.000-05:00

Despite occasional kitchen disasters, I think I'm a decent cook (well of course I would, wouldn't I?). This despite the fact that I come from a family of dedicated and creative cooks to whom I do not hold a candle. In fact, I'm so accustomed to great mother-chefs that I'm always a little surprised when I come across a mother who is a bad cook. Surprised and often amused. Michael Blowhard's mom seems to have been a bad cook:

If food needed to be consumed, then let it be as little trouble as possible. My mother dreamed of a day when people would subsist on astronaut food (pills, and paste in tubes, basically). She really did. Until then, as far as she was concerned, canned and frozen nourishment would have to do. Was it tasteless? Mushy? Oversalted? A small price to pay.

But my favorite bad mommy cook is the late mother of a co-worker who would put on meals so terrible that my co-worker would have to make sure to stop at McDonald's on the way to his annual Thanksgiving dinner visit.

I'm pretty sure my spouse doesn't fuel up before dinner--ergo my belief that I'm a decent cook. On the other hand, he often claims that he would be satisfied subsisting on astronaut food (especially when he's forced to clean up after my "decent" cooking). The eight year old certainly prefers items such as frozen chicken nuggets and microwaved hot dogs to my home-made Pasta al Mediterraneo. With an audience like this, don't you agree it's no wonder I haven't developed beyond "decent"?

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

2006-04-17T22:36:00.000-05:00

I've had my share of kitchen mishaps, but here's a new one: exploding Pyrex ovenware. We spent all evening picking glass shards, rosemary and potato quarters out of oven crevices.

For a while I felt blue, worrying that even my crockery has it in for me. Fortunately, I discovered that it's an equal-opportunity disaster. It's not just my cooking.

IT'S NOT WINTER ANYMORE, RIGHT?

2006-04-14T11:18:00.000-05:00

In Minnesota, they say there are two seasons: winter and road construction. Chez Spitbull, road construction has today been replaced with porch construction!

After almost two years of planning, the bobcat finally showed up this morning. It made short work of our overgrown bushes, to the great delight of the neighborhood kids. Our contractor kicked at the revealed dirt (mostly peat moss and wood chips) with disdain, muttered something about it being "crap" (he quickly apoligized to me for swearing) that needed to be replaced with presumably stronger more manly dirt, and has now disappeared.

I am sanguine. We love our contractor.

I'M NOT EVEN REALLY SURE WHO RYAN SEACREST IS ...

2006-04-13T20:48:00.000-05:00

Our co-blogger John was the one who first introduced us to the Superficial (no doubt in some post he's since deleted). Despite the fact that it's clearly a gateway drug, we thank him. Without John, we would remain as innocent of the ramifications of Oprah-watching by formerly "chunky" men as we are of the identity of Mr. Seacrest himself.

Today the Superficial complains of Ryan Seacrest's admission in People magazine that "I was overweight because I used to come home and eat a cookie sheet pan of nachos and watch Oprah every day of my life.":

I can sympathize with him being overweight, but why does he have to throw in that he used to watch Oprah every day? Everybody thinks he's gay, he's caught making out with Teri Hatcher, and now he admits to watching Oprah every day of his teenage life. If he's this determined to be made fun of, why not just send out a press release that says he was born with a vagina?

If I had to guess, I'd say he was famous for being on American Idol. What do you know? I'm right! But it seems he's the host, not a contestant. A host with a vagina. What's so unusual about that?

FRIDAY IS FABRIZIO QUATTROCCHI DAY

2006-04-11T14:36:00.000-05:00

Let me temper today’s disappointing news about the elections in Italy with something more inspirational.

Friday, April 14 is the second anniversary of what I will always remember as Fabrizio Quattrocchi Day. That night please consider this suggestion. Buy a bottle of something Italian, get together with a few friends or family, and raise a glass in commemoration of the passionate life and noble death of a real hero.

For planning purposes, April 22 is Pat Tillman day.

KATIE'S TALKING ORGANS

2006-04-07T06:52:00.000-05:00

You know, Katie Couric said that in deciding to leave NBC's Today Show for the CBS Evening News, she listened to "my heart and my gut." That's fine, but after all we've been through together, don't we have a right to know what her colon thinks about it too?

AWARDS, SCHMAWARDS

2006-04-07T06:06:00.000-05:00

Saint Paul of Fraters Libertas, in the course of congratulating Captain Ed for being named Blogger of the Year, has advised us here at Spitbull to get our tuxedos ready for next year. Well, let me tell you, my tuxedo was ready a week ago. What's more, I've been wearing it since then, too. You see, I donned it last Friday, certain that two years of baffling oversight would be remedied and that Spitbull would finally receive NIGP's coveted Rock Solid in the Blogosphere award. When we were cruelly passed over once again, it was more than I could bear, and I went off on a bender that I'm only just now returning from. My once pristine tuxedo is now a tattered wreck. What remains of it is indelibly stained with cigarette ashes, Johnny Walker Red, the garish lipstick of a $50 whore, and the rueful tears of bitter regret (also the regretful tears of bitter rue--I cried both).

I will not be investing in a new tuxedo. I've learned something over the past week: lusting after the baubles of others' approval is a fool's game. I am swearing off awards, and I hereby vow to return to what I do best--not blogging.

MORE CARTOON VIOLENCE?

2006-04-06T10:33:00.000-05:00

No. Just a "dusty response" from the lampoon victims -- because they're French. A member of the European Parliment was more uppity:

"These cheap and derogatory remarks are beneath even a budget airline. We really have got to be more mature in our relationships."

The provocation? Another cartoon (admittedly one with production values so crappy they don't even meet the standards of this low-brow blog) and some tart commentary on the transport disruptions caused by the recent French strikes ("Jet2.com condemns French strike action and calls for lazy frogs to get back to work.")

However, the lampooner (chief executive of Jet2), is concerned enough about the possibility of violence that a spokeswoman for the budget airline assured the world that "Mr Meeson [the cartooning CEO] loved France and had a holiday home there, although its whereabouts were not being advertised - for obvious reasons."

Everyone's a wuss.

SKEPTICAL ABOUT MEDIA SKEPTICISM

2006-04-02T15:57:00.000-05:00

As the Nihilist points out, the U.S. news media has widely reported how "well treated" journalist Jill Carroll was while a hostage. Such a pretty story -- but one that completely disregarded the fact that the "evidence" came from two sources of dubious reliability: a videotape Ms. Carroll recorded while still in captivity and a television interview with the Iraqi Islamic Party she gave after being released in which she indicated her freedom to reveal all by "choosing" to wear Islamic headscarf and Arabic robe:

Surprise surprise, now that she's safely in the U.S. she can finally set the record straight:

Durng my last night in captivity, my captors forced me to participate in a propaganda video. They told me they would let me go if I cooperated. I was living in a threatening environment, under their control, and wanted to go home alive. I agreed.
Things that I was forced to say while captive are now being taken by some as an accurate reflection of my personal views. They are not. The people who kidnapped me and murdered Allan Enwiya are criminals, at best. They robbed Allan of his life and devastated his family. They put me, my family and my friends--and all those around the world, who have prayed so fervently for my release--through a horrific experience. I was, and remain, deeply angry with the people who did this.
I also gave a TV interview to the Iraqi Islamic Party shortly after my release. The party had promised me the interview would never be aired on television, and broke their word. At any rate, fearing retribution from my captors, I did not speak freely. Out of fear I said I wasn't threatened. In fact, I was threatened many times.

It is disheartening to see how easily the U.S. media accepted the terrorists-are-really-nice-guys story. Look at her now:

Which Jill would you believe?

LORD, WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE!

2006-04-02T15:28:00.000-05:00

The Kool-Aid Report celebrates April Fools Day. In style.