Rock on, me bloogs!
[Update: Greetings Blörters, and thanks to the Everlasting One for the linky.]
Category: Bunk Stuff
Even Kenya Goes Green on Earth Day
[Found here. This was originally intended to be posted on “Earth Day” but our internest access was on the fritz.]
I hate this “Earth Day” garbage. Nature has been trying to kill us off for millennia and has never back-pedaled the threat. Not once. And not once has the Earth given us the common courtesy to thank us for ignoring that undeniable fact.
So in response to “Earth Day,” we turned on all our lights, cranked up the furnace, cranked down the air conditioning, turned on the humidifier and dehumidifier at the same time, and left the refrigerator door open. I plugged in the electric weed-whacker, taped the trigger, watched it dance around the back yard and dig a trench into a fresh gopher run. Judging from the color of the dirt, it actually caught one of the little furry bastards.
We washed our socks one at a time in the Kenmore with the load setting on “full.” We flushed twice to make sure a silverfish was gone forever, and we made sure that the lawn sprinklers watered the sidewalk properly.
We also burned a lot of fossil fuel by taking numerous unnecessary trips to our next-door neighbors’ house for inane chit-chat and let the car idle in their driveway for hours until the Sears DieHard was simply glowing with happy amused electricity. We even left the TV on all night and turned the TiVo on to watch it for us.
And Gaia snickered.
[Related posts here.]
AND… WE’RE BACK!
What an ordeal.
Once Verizon bumped off its FIOS service to Frontier Communications on April Fool’s Day (appropriately enough) stuff happened.
We started hearing an unidentifiable *beep* from somewhere in the house, but it was of such short duration we couldn’t pinpoint the source. We timed it, and the missus and I positioned ourselves in various spots every 15 minutes attempting to triangulate it with no luck. We were hunting for an electronic cricket and after unplugging/dismantling every thing we knew that could beep, it kept recurring. We thought we we’d been pranked by a friend, cursed him while searching likely spots he might have hidden a quarter-sized “beeper.” No dice.
On a whim I opened up the FAU closet and found the culprit. There was the Verizon FIOS equipment, and every 15 minutes it was telling us that its backup battery was dead. Bastards.
So I reset the alarm, yanked the battery. Silence for 24 hours, and then it began again – every fifteen minutes. Hitting the reset button daily was a temporary solution, but we could finally get some sleep without that infernal beeping.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence, that I’d only imagined that the Utoobage was stuttering. Nah.
Then BAM.
Nine days later, our landline and internest access crapped out. The landline came back, but internet access and WIFI was dead. I called Frontier Communications. Technicians would be out the following day between 8AM and 6PM (a tight window) so I took the following day off without pay, as did the Frontier Communications techs who didn’t bother to show up or call to cancel the appointment.
Buh-bye, Frontier Communications.
Time Warner Cable has been deluged with calls from disgruntled Verizon / Frontier Communications subscribers to set up new services, so we waited it out. Three “appointments” later, Time Warner Cable finally came through this morning.
I never realized how much we depend on internest access, and having to watch TV only added to the torture. Instead, I watched “End Of The Century” and “The Imitation Game,” and read Elliot Carson’s excellent book “Joe Rochefort’s War.”
Anyway, we’re back. Thanks for your patience, and we’ll try to make up for lost time.
Bunk
[Related post here, and no, that’s not me in the .gif.]
Wannabe Dodge Hemi Van Babe Magnet
This one’s been sitting in our What-To-Do-With-This-File for several years now. It’s way past time we set it free.
All we can guess is that the owner of this black pervo-van knew exactly what he was doing after he re-upholstered the interior and dash with tufted blue and white carpet, installed a wet bar, string lights and a sound system with an 8-track player that plays nothing but Barry White’s Greatest Hits. But even that didn’t get the babes, so he took the obvious next step: GO STEALTH.
[Found here. More Babe Magnets here.]
The .GIF Friday Post No.430 – Jerk in a Black Van, Hello Octopus and Rashida Jones’ Pulse
The .Gif Friday Post No. 424 – Hillary, Bernie, Donald & Ted and Obama
Don’t read too much into this as I’m just messing around with JASC for the helluvit. Meanwhile a little birdy from Los Angeles sent me the following:
So it’s 2:15. The Obama street closures are about to begin, and the airport traffic is expected to be a mess. Should I take the 10 East to the 710 south?
HELL NO. The manic motorhead doesn’t do tens. He does elevens. I’m gonna drive it right down the fetid bloody gaping maw of the 405 South like a boss.
Ignoring the voice of the Waze app bitch, I jam down Centinela past National, past the 90, past Jefferson. I break into the 405 from Howard Hughes Parkway and head for LAX, to face almost certain death.
“Seems the flow is more sluggish than usual,” I think, “but it’s moving.” Then suddenly I see brake lights that stretch from here to San Ysidro. That’s when I make my move. Time for Exit 46.
TO IMPERIAL HIGHWAY – AND BEYOND! *wooooosh*
Everything is going as planned. A mile down the road I jump the unsuspecting 105 East, run the Crenshaw exit lane to the end and merge like a pro. The Gods are surely smiling as I peel off to the Harbor Freeway South, but the patterns aren’t right… something is amiss. Better exit 190th Street for good luck.
Sure enough, the 110 is at a standstill at the 405 interchange. My catlike instincts pay off again as I kick it down Figueroa to the next on ramp and hit it down the Weigh Station Only lane (merge) down the Avalon Boulevard exit only lane (merge) and then suffer a half-mile of stupid until I can veer into the Wilmington on ramp lane. From there it’s a cool breeze. Snaking on and off the 405 exits and entries, I bypass miles of suffering fools moving at 15 mph all the way to Long Beach. To them, I’m an unidentifiable blur of 99/100% pure awesome.
My journey takes less than 90 minutes. Not bad, considering the brutal and bloody odds stacked against me. Now it’s Miller Time, and I tip one to the poor bastards who don’t know the method of the madness. I pity them. I really do.
Signature Service Hot Links
Why A Pair of Pants?
“Pants” is an abbreviation for “Pantaloons,” originally a two-piece garment, with one sleeve for each leg, both tied around the waist. The codpiece was a polite, yet not-so-polite, appurtenance. Pantaloons (with or without codpieces) were a hit in France in the late 1600s. What a surprise.
The word “pantaloons” comes from the French pantalon, derived from Italian pantalone, named after San Pantalone, aka Saint Pantaleone, aka Saint Panteleímon.
That guy was pretty cool. He practiced medicine until he became a Faith Healer and was accused of witchcraft in 305AD. He survived being set on fire with torches, being dipped in molten lead, tied to a rock and thrown into the sea, fed to wild animals, torn apart on the rack, and a beheading. He freed a bunch of slaves, too. Once he agreed that beheading was usually lethal, he was beheaded a second time and he died.
But that’s not all.
In the Middle Ages he came to be regarded as the patron saint of physicians and midwives. A phial containing some of his blood has been preserved at Constantinople; on his Feast Days (he scored three – 27 July, 28 July, and 18 February) his blood boils. Pure awesome.
The origin of the taunt “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” is related.
Straatsen in the Netherlands [via].
Hexaflexigon burrito. Do it. Eat it.
Some of these DIY illusions are cool.
RHNB = Red Hot Nickel Ball. Nice video collection by a guy who knows what to do with one.
El Niño – He’s a-comin’ ta gitcha, and Google Maps has you covered.
We’ve all seen ’em. They’re called dickheads.
Don’t do this [via].
Do this instead. [Top image screen-capped from that video and doctored a tad.]
[Update: Added the Epilogue to the St. Pantaleone saga.]
The .Gif Friday Post No. 420 – Dog In A Bucket, Waves & Door Slam
Another Great Gift Idea: Sweet Dreams Kitty Night Light
For those of you with little ones who are afraid of being alone in the dark, this comforting night light solves the problem.
[Found here.]
Our 3,333rd Blog Post
Tacky Raccoons 