Category: Life

The sun’ll come out tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun.

Just thinkin’ about tomorrow clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow ’til there’s none.

When we’re stuck with a day that’s gray and snowy, we just stick out our chin and grin and say, “Oh!”

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, so ya gotta hang on ’til tomorrow come what may. Tomorrow! Tomorrow! We’ll love ya tomorrow. You’re always a day away.

You know what really pushes my buttons in traffic? The single thing that turns me from mild-mannered, but mildly-sadistic-QA-person into a seething hulk of inhuman anger?

A bumper sticker that says Stop Road Rage.

I mean, not only does that particular driver think that he’s got an inside track into the psychology of the human condition, but also he thinks that you’re a weak-minded soul upon whom his Jedi mind trick of a bumper sticker will have some influence after he’s cut you off, zip zip, while on the phone so he could move one car ahead in the jam to the exit and prompting your extreme braking with a methamped trucker on the road for 9:58 and wanting to make Forrestel in the next two minutes before his rig shuts off on your tail, the Mack’s lights so bright in your rearview mirror that you’re tanning, now burning.

No, the Stop Road Rage bumper sticker works reverse psychology and actually boosts road rage. It’s only slightly more annoying than the Prevent Child Abuse license plates profferred by the state of Missouri with the colorful handprints-in-green-paint-on-a-white-wall motif that indicates another damn mess made by the kid that you’ll have to clean up that deserves a spanking or too, all the while with Missouri not offering an opposing viewpoint with the inspirational message of Corporal Punishment Builds Good Republicans and a colorful belt logo.

But, ah, we’re off the brakes and moving now past the friendly Motorist Assist truck behind the Corolla on the jack. Never mind, life is good.

Dramatic recreation of detritus only mostly erased from a whiteboard in the conference room:

Ladies and gentlemen, start your captioning.

Here’s my first, to get you in the mood:

The human genome is safe from software engineers, as they fail to grasp basic Mendelian genetics.

No necesito huevos de tortuga!

(enabled by Ace of Spades, the Robert Bly of our age.)

Good to see the people behind the International Freedom Center had alternate plans.

You can find this particular gem of wisdom on a dark Post No Bills temporary construction wall just north of the former site of the World Trade Center. In case the author of this simplistic moralism–a member of the reality hemp-based community–should find through Googlism his or her words immortalized here, allow me to point out some finer flaws with the point he or she is trying to make:

• It’s Jesus’s job to love everyone, not mine.
• I don’t hate the people of the individuals who destroyed the World Trade Center, et al. However:
• If someone wants to kill me or my people for some abstract reason, or even for an acute reason, I’d prefer that person be incapacitated or killed. No hatred involved.

But nice try. Now go back to work; I don’t want my tax-funded State Department employees slacking off.

Back when I was a young man, we didn’t have CDs or the Internet. If we wanted to play video games, we spent all night typing the programs in from magazines.

A comparison of sizes of science fiction ships and stations.

Ahhh….

(Link seen on Ace of Spades.)

From a fundraising plea junk mail from the Alzheimer’s Disease Research Program of the American Health Assistance Foundation, of whom I’ve never heard before and to whom I will never send any money whatsoever:

Major news in the research on Alzheimer’s:
Researchers funded by Alzheimer’s Disease Research including TWO Nobel prize winners–have made breakthrough discoveries that may signla the end of Alzheimer’s reign of terror!

Alzheimer’s reign of terror? Lord, love a duck, poorly written, poorly metaphored… I say we make it a trifecta by making it poorly funded, too.

Joaquin Phoenix had a brother, River Phoenix, who was also an actor.

Compare/contrast this with trivia questions ca 1990.

Crikes, I’ve got this mosquito bite on my neck like an inch from my jugular. You know that mosquito will be telling his friends about that bite, ad nauseum, for the rest of his life.

Probably a week tops, unless he tries that stunt again, in which case I’ll spill my own blood if needed to truncate his existence.

Two thoughts that struck me as amusing, but I’ll probably be the only one:

• Upon seeing the vanity license plate MO4 LL:

  We sure thought that “Alice” would make a credible candidate for president….

• Somehow, I think even Peter Scaffer fans think me crazy when I go to the ballpark and cheer for the Cardinals’ lead off hitter by chanting:

  Eck….Eck…..Eck….Eckstein.

Because these things bounce around my disparate thoughts during the course of the day. Instead of a billion dollar idea, I get these.