Current Events Watch

… turning plastic bottles into green architecture.

From the maker of the HYmini wind and solar portable charger comes a polymer architecture brick combining post-consumer materials with environmentally friendly function. The POLLI-Brick is made entirely of recycled materials and offers passive cooling, natural ventilation and even integrated solar/wind powered LED lighting.

The brick features a unique interlocking cylindrical shape and each brick is created from around four recycled PET plastic bottles. The shape incorporates a great deal of air; thereby providing the thermal and sound insulation. The POLLI-Brick offers excellent bond strength with minimal silicone sealant required due to self interlocking design. The strength to weight ratio is also impressive thanks to the honeycomb geometry, combined with reinforced wall thickness.

Applications for the POLLI-Brick include creating patio screening and roofs, skylights, translucent fences, vertical planters and a curtain wall system with UV protected laminate and PVC backing for fireproofing. Solar modules can be integrated to the curtain walls to power LED lamps inside the bricks’ cavities. Beyond their architectural uses, the bricks are multi-purpose. MINIWIZ suggests a number of applications such as creative lighting and growing plants within the cavities. The addition of the company’s Solarbulb turns the POLLI-Brick into a mood light.

MINIWIZ displayed the POLLI-Brick at the 2009 CES in Las Vegas.

Emily Clark

Pollit-Bricks made from recycled water bottles.

-from Gizmag.com

These sound amazing to me. I can already think of tons to do with them around my house. I wonder how long it will be before I can find them at the local building supply store? I bet they aren’t cheap either. Now that would be nice. Cool, environmentally-friendly, and inexpensive, the perfect product. I think I’ll go google “Polli-Brick” to see if I can find an answer to where/when/how much?

I enjoy this picture very much. If only it was not just flight of fancy, so to speak. Karma finally catching up with Cupid. And what better fitting and ironic the manner of his demise, given his centuries-old fixation with chucking quiversful of arrows into the most schmaltzy of hearts? Channeling Susan Powter, I’d say it’s about time to stop the insanity!

I tend to agree with Adri on this one: Valentine’s Day is indeed one “shitty excuse for a holiday.”

Those of us who routinely go about our merry ways savoring our citizenship in Singledom are once every 365 caught off-guard by this annual phenomenon of a 24-hour romance and lovemaking interlude amongst the coupled.

Single and all alone, we inevitably have that moment of cognitive dissonance speculating that if perhaps had we not so readily dismissed out of hand that cute guy who just possibly could have been more than merely a one-night stand, we too might appreciate the magnificence of the day.

We do tend to readily ditch such claptrap mentality, mind you, come the 15th. And I would venture to guess that despite the one single day of the year on which we solitary souls perchance feel (dare I say) just a smidge envious, there are no doubt many of the committed who would probably willingly sacrifice that annual heart-shaped box of mystery chocolates and streetcorner-vended roses for the sheer joy of having the whole bed to themselves the other 364 days of the year.

So I’m off to bed now, certain without a doubt that it will indeed be good for me, and that I will still respect myself in the morning. Who could ask for anything more? Happy Cupid-free Valentine’s Day to me!

valentine’s day, cupid, valentine

McCain. Who’d have thunk it? War veteran, border state maverick hero … and possible pedophilic incestuous quick shooter.

You be the judge. Impressive wood, though, I must say. And I hear that there are exercises a guy can do to get that “quick shoot” thing under control.

Yep, Lucas McCain, The Rifleman. Civil War vet, rebel do-gooder hailing from down New Mexico way. I do love my classic TV. I’d just never realized how retrospectively disconcerting some of it could be!

Turns out, seems that McCain may not have been all that he was at first cracked up to be.

What’s that? John who? Oh, yeah. Duh. My bad. I know him.

The old guy.
That other war hero.
Transexually-shunned.

Sorry for waxing nostalgic. My original train of thought completely derailed, I apologize. I’ll try to avoid becoming so easily distracted in the future.

john mccain, rifleman, chuck connors

To postulate that we all trust in God is perhaps just a tad bit presumptuous, don’t you think? I mean, many don’t even believe in, or are at best iffy about, the existence of a supreme entity in the first place, so I’m fairly certain that those folks would probably take issue. “We trust whom? Really?”

But, of course, being the godly nation that we are (I’m sure the Almighty is so very proud), it’s only fitting that mandatory emblazonment of In God We Trust be conferred upon all currency minted and printed in these United States of America. Infidels need to just suck it up.

And it must be most prominently displayed, of course, lest the religious right-wing looney tunes get their panties in a bunch! Apparently they are avid readers of coinage, and wish to not be required to squint when reading their daily affirmation.

So now they’ve gone ballistic about the unsatisfactory design of the latest U.S. Mint’s gold-colored dollar coins, in tribute to our dead presidents. Four coins are released per year. The first four, honoring George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, were issued last year.

More to come, stay tuned. Oh, the anticipation!

Anyway, under Congressional edict, the Mint was required to place the national mottos In God We Trust and E Pluribus Unum along the edge of the coins. The idea was to allow for more dramatic portraits and fancy artwork on the heads and tails.

Well, that was apparently most unacceptable! The Moral Majority of coin-reading Christians complained that the words were hard to read, and that they might wear off over time.

So Congress buckled, of course, recognizing the error of their ways. Live and learn. Now, they’ve tweaked the rules to better please the Lord and the lunatics, so that the phrase In God We Trust has greater prominence on the new presidential dollar coins.

They’ve passed legislation that the phrase be moved from the edge (where one might presumably rub God the wrong way) to the back or front of the coin.

God bless America.

President George W. Bush signed the measure into law last month after the Religious Right conservatives complained about the new coins, insisting that by relegating the phrase to the edge of the coin was some kind of malevolent plot to ditch the phrase altogether.

I really doubt that the good Lord would mind so much if we did just that.

presidential coins, u.s. mint, in god we trust, gold dollar coins, religious right, george bush

Keep those young Kentucky fingers crossed, boys and girls! The freaks, geeks and fuglies may wish to cross their toes as well, for good measure.

If the House Education Committee has its way, the days of being picked on, pushed around, beaten up and beaten down will soon come to an end.

The HEC unanimously approved an anti-bullying bill last week that, if given thumbs up by the Kentucky Legislature in the House and Senate, would curb the harassment, intimidation and plain old-fashioned schoolyard bullying.

It’s a fine plan, I read it. They’re calling it The Golden Rule Act.

Very straightforward, it is. It establishes a code of acceptable behavior, provides for training of teachers on how to deal, includes procedures empowering victims to report without fear of retaliation, and defines the proper comeuppance for offenders. All in all, I’d give it an A+.

There could be a bit of a bump in the road, however. A big bump, actually. A ginormous speedbump called the Republican-controlled Senate.

Similar previous versions of the bill have also been passed by the Democratically-controlled House, only to be shot down once reaching the floor of the Senate. Why, one might wonder?

Ah, here’s your answer. Idiot-at-large Senate President David Williams worries that if passed, the legislation could be used as “an excuse for the addition of curriculum concerning aberrant behavior.”

For those not fluent in Neoconese, aberrant = homosexual. FYI.

He’s concerned that if passed, the bill might be used to “teach curriculum that people aren’t interested in like homosexual, same-sex marriage sort of things like that.”

Perhaps I should re-read the bill. Maybe I missed something. Chat amongst yourselves.

Hmmm, nope. Nary reference to anything remotely suggesting the inclusion of Aberrancy 101 into the curriculum.

Of course, Williams himself said he hasn’t read the bill yet. How he has then jumped to such wacky conclusions, Lord only knows. There’s really no explaining the misfiring synapses of the Republican mind.

But one must never lose hope. Who knows? Maybe this time the planets will align, hell will freeze over, Republicans will experience a rare moment of lucidity, and all four-eyed, pizza-faced, metal-mouthed fatties down Kentucky way can breathe a collective sigh of relief. It could happen.

anti-bullying law, kentucky anti-bullying, david williams, kentucky senate, gay agenda, homosexual agenda

I was sitting here this evening, illegally downloading some old Lenny Kravitz tunage (Limewire rocks), reminded of why I was such a Kravitz fan back in the day. Good stuff. iPod playlist worthy, no doubt! A new mix for the morning run.

Of course, as I’m sure we’ll all agree, when clipping our Shuffles or Nanos to our Spandexed waistbands before pounding the pavement at the crack of dawn, there’s always that nagging disquiet in the back of our minds: what to do if we perchance encounter some seedy, menacing character whilst logging our daily five?

Well, fear no more, fellow cardio buffs and music fans! Why didn’t someone think of this sooner? Nothing short of genius, really. A new combo mp3-player slash taser gun has hit the market! And it’s fashionable to boot.

With a choice of leopard print, red, pink or silver, you know you’ll always be in style zapping the bejesus out of the guy who may have looked at you the wrong way. With 50,000 volts in hand, you’ll never have to worry … and you won’t miss a beat of your favorite song. Most excellent.

Just see how easy it is to use! Personal protection can indeed be “both fashionable and functionable,” as genius Rick Smith, owner of Taser International, so eloquently stated. Awesome.

Full disclosure: I don’t own an iPod. I don’t run, and walk only when necessary. I’m not even exactly sure what the crack of dawn might be, although I hear it’s something very pretty. I don’t own anything remotely resembling Spandex, nor should anyone else. I think Lenny Kravitz is a god, and yes, I do download music illegally. Sue me. But please don’t iTase me, bro.

itaser, consumer electronics show, mp3 taser, taser international, taser, mp3 player

It’s the holiday season, and who doesn’t love Christmas? It is indeed the most wonderful time of the year!

I personally never hear sleigh bells ring no matter how closely I’m listenin’, nor do I roast chestnuts on a fire, open or otherwise.

Apparently some do, though, so in those respects I can only celebrate vicariously through others.

But that’s okay. I really don’t need jingling bells, one-horse open sleighs and such. Nope, I know the real reason for the season.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Of course the Lord of lords was not actually born on December 25th. Most likely a late summer or early fall baby, given the concurrent Roman censusing, farmer harvesting, and shepherd nighttime flock-watching. Activities not typically on the December to-do list.

I’d bet that at His age, Jesus probably doesn’t really care so much for birthday parties anyway, regardless of when celebrated. I know I don’t, and I’m still quite a young whippersnapper by comparison.

Commemorating the birth of Christ, however, remains important to us, His earthly disciples. Although a certain One may not particularly care to be reminded that He is not getting any younger, I’m sure He’s still appreciative. We all like to be the center of attention, after all, even if just for a day, whatever the occasion.

And with requisite celebratory gift-giving, thanks to that frankincense and myrrh thing, and since the really good sales don’t start until December, I’m sure He understands the need for the arbitrary date change. I mean, really, what’s a few months in the context of all eternity?

But not everyone has jumped on the manger bandwagon.

It’s hard to believe, I know, but there still exists a disturbingly high number of lost heathen souls in other parts of the world who refuse to appreciate or even acknowledge this holiest of days, set aside to reverently remember and honor the birth of the Savior. They’re all hell-bound, of course, unless they change their ways.

Fortunately, the missionary team of Mr. Garrison and Mr. Hand, hailing from South Park, Colorado, has heeded the call to spread the Good News to the rest of the world each December. Fishers of men, they are. Godspeed, brethren!

On such missions one must not pussyfoot around the Truth, so if you are easily offended by harsh conversion tactics consider yourself warned not to watch the following. Words are spoken that may be offensive to some.

However, sometimes dropping the “F Bomb” is the only way to show the pathway to true salvation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Whatever it takes.

Hey, at least they haven’t resorted to waterboarding. Merry Christmas!

UPDATE: Speaking of the “F Bomb” I have to drop a big one on Viacom. The video clip I had here has “been removed due to copyright violation.” I’ll probably be receiving notice soon to also erase that DVD recording I made of the same episode. All righty then, you’ll still get the gist with this one. I guess as long as the characters don’t move, it’s all cool. Whatever. The song, though, remains the same …

christmas, south park, south park christmas, mr garrison, mr hand, merry christmas, youtube christmas

I have a warrant out for my arrest. No kidding. The boys in blue actually showed up a few weeks ago to haul my felonious ass to the slammer. They did, however, acknowledged that they probably had better things to do, and let me off the hook with a stern directive to get to the police station post-haste. Payment of $300 bail would secure my continued freedom. (I never went. I hate being told what to do.)

This was due to my blatant disregard of an invitation from the local courthouse to visit with the Honorable Judge Wayne Cagle. I have since learned that this sort of no-show behavior is frowned upon, as attendance at such events is not considered optional.

All of this because my house needs a fresh coat of paint, and now the house judge isn’t very happy.

One of my stalkers (I have two; very popular, I am) sought revenge when I began dallying with another, and apparently thought that ringing up City Hall to file a paint complaint would be the best way to express his displeasure.

The house does need painting, I’ll admit, but I’ve seen worse. I’m hardly a criminal, just lazy. Nevertheless, a default judgement was rendered against me, and I’m now a fugitive from justice.

Seemingly lots of important cases on the courts’ dockets indeed! Judicial time well-spent. Okay, I know I should have shown up for my court appearance, but I was annoyed by the whole thing. Seemed so frivolous, and again, I don’t like being told what to do. Or when and where to do it.

Despite my less-than-objective opinion about my personal situation, true judicial lunacy really lives. Of course we’re all aware of that; we live in America, for goodness’ sake.

But we’re not alone in the world when it comes to WTF? court decisions. Take Italy for example. Case in point:

At least this couple duly showed up when summoned which, as I’ve learned, is a good thing. In hindsight, however, they may wish that they had opted to go on the lam instead.

Mara and Roberto Germano live in Genoa. Mara and Roberto had a baby boy. Mara and Roberto named and baptized the new addition Venerdi. Mara and Roberto were happy.

Unfortunately for the couple, city hall officials in Italy are obligated by law to report any unusual names to the appropriate authorities, and since “Venerdi” is Italian for “Friday,” well, given the oddity of the name, is it any wonder that the matter would end up before the Genoan panel of judges?

The law must be upheld, after all, and egregious names will simply not be tolerated, so the court date was set.

After no doubt much deliberation and legal research, the Venerdi verdict was administered. Judgement against the defendants. The child simply would not be allowed to go through life with a name that evoked the image of a savage, like the character Friday in Robinson Crusoe, “thus creating a sense of inferiority and failing to guarantee the boy the necessary decorum.”

The Germanos appealed, as might have been expected. Who wouldn’t? What they called the little tyke during the interim, I don’t know. Still, they waited.

Then last month the appeals court came to their decision. They stated that Venerdi falls into the category of the “ridiculous or shameful” names that are barred by law, and agreed that it recalled the native servant in Daniel Defoe’s novel.

They even stepped it up a notch. The judges wrote that naming the boy Venerdi would bar him from “serene interpersonal relationships” and would turn him into the “laughing stock of his group,” according to a report in La Repubblica this week.

Not only that, they said that even as a day of the week, savage imagery aside, Friday raises a “sentiment of sadness and penitence, when not being associated with bad luck outright.” Case closed.

Win some, lose some. The law is the law. But now, what to do? The kid was born in September of 2006, and more than a year later, are Mom and Dad really expected to have to dust off that book of baby names yet again?

Not to worry. The judges have that covered as well. It was court-ordered that the boy be named Gregorio, after the saint on whose day he was born. So that takes care of that.

Seems to me that there would be far more important things on both domestic and international dockets relating to matters somewhat more relevant than house paint or baby names.

But that’s just me, and I’m a defendant, so my opinion may be biased. I’d bet, though, that Mara, Roberto and little Gregorio would probably agree with me.

venerdi germano, mara germano, roberto germano, gregorio, baby name friday, italy, italian judges, robinson crusoe, germano baby

YIKES! Hail to the potential Chief! A presidential election of firsts this will be, indeed. In addition to the conventional troupe of white guys in suits and ties, we also have the breasted, asbestos-pantsuited Hillary, the black-enough, non-Muslim Barack, and then, of course, the 9/11-superhero, occasional crossdresser Rudy, all on board for our consideration. Mixing it up in 2008!

What disturbs me about Giuliani is not his transvestism nor his drag queen diva alter ego. Go for it, dude. (He should probably rethink some of his fashion decisions, but that’s just my opinion.) No, the thing that disturbs me about him is his Republicanism, of course.

Nevertheless, I’m quite certain that Giuliani’s capability to continue this nation’s downward spiral would not be hindered by either tux or taffeta. I just hope he isn’t given the opportunity to prove me right.

I personally don’t get the whole crossdressing thing, but most straight people don’t get my penchant for boy-boy action, either. So who am I to judge? To each his own, live and let live, pick a platitude …

Still, some things might best be left in the proverbial closet, particularly if you’re Rudy Giuliani. Completely off the chart when it comes to garish and gaudy! Not a pretty picture. Practically nightmare fodder.

There is one thing, though, even more disturbing, and that is watching prick Dump Truck nuzzle the Queen’s boobies. Get a room. Preferably far from Pennsylvania Avenue. It may be time for a change, but let’s not go overboard.

rudy giuliani, giuliani in drag, 2008 election, donald trump, giuliani video, crossdressing

Okay, my bad for thinking I knew it all. In a previous post about the folks in the black community “having their panties in a bunch” over the soon to be raised Martin Luther King Memorial on the National Mall being contracted to a Chinaman rather than to one of their own, I wrote:

“I just find it bizarre that those who should most appreciate the wrongness of racism would be so up-in-arms about having a China guy, Lei Yixin, assigned the task of memorializing the legacy of the one man who without question did the most to advance civil rights. No Chinese allowed? Seems rather racist to me.”

But … what if I was hoodwinked? What if the media spinmeisters played a race card that ought not have been in the deck in the first place? Certainly always a fail-safe approach for stirring up a bit of controversy, no doubt, and doesn’t suck for garnering ratings, either.

That might just be the case here. Of course, I know there are two sides to every story, and while I always have my own opinions, I do also indubitably respect the right of others to differ, no matter how misguided they may be.

I’m only human, though, and may have been duped this time into believing that those within the African-American community are all astir because they think that, to quote myself, “only black can do black.” Could I have possibly been mislead? Read on.

I pointed out, too, that the majority of members on the selection committee was black, and that black sculptors and architectural firms were also involved with the project, all of the important details. Details that, as it turns out, seem to have been selectively cherry-picked by the network bigwigs and, of course, duly reported by the talking heads.

Here’s why I have reason to think so. I received a comment in response to my previous article from one Clint Button. Granted, he is himself a long-time granite artisan, and industry liason to the King Is Ours protest organization, so understandably may have a biased opinion about the issue.

But if you read his comment, there seems to be enough credible evidence to suggest that, despite the media’s spin, the hullabaloo really might not be so much about race after all. Abridged excerpts follow, emphasis is mine. You can read the comment in its entirety here if so inclined.

“While the simplistic interpretation of our protest is viewed as race-based, our true protest is based on the process that denied all Americans a fair opportunity to participate in this project. On Nov 8, 2007, the Barre Granite Association sponsored a press conference featuring King Is Ours. In front of a 24′ tall granite statue, Gilbert Young spoke surrounded by a dozen Master Sculptors and Carvers - including the three who actually produced that 24′ statue.

“In June 2005, the MLK Foundation received $10 Million Federal to fund the MLK Memorial. In May 2006, they visited Barre, meeting with one sculptor for 15 minutes and one manufacturer for 10 minutes. Both assured the MLK Memorial Foundation they could handle the project. Neither was ever allowed to bid or even see project specifications. Foundation members even refused to tour the manufacturer’s plant, where several of these Masters were and still are carving.

“Elberton, GA’s granite industry - in size, several times that of Barre - was never contacted at all. Claims by the MLK Memorial Foundation to have ’surveyed several quarries’ at Stone Mountain on a Sunday afternoon in June 2007 fail to expand that all quarrying operations in the Stone Mountain area ceased in the 1970’s. There are also no granite quarries in America that operate on Sundays.

“In June 2006, the MLK Memorial Foundation spontaneously visited St. Paul, discovered Lei napping on the lawn after completing the only carving he admitted to had ever done completely ‘on my own.’ Lei didn’t understand the scope of the project or of Dr. King until after returning to China, all per his interviews in the LA Times and stone industry publications. But he left St Paul with a check for over $140,000.00.

“Due Diligence has not been served. Federal Monies mean an open bidding process. That NEVER Occurred. No US Entity, granite company, artist, artisan or other ever was allowed a viable chance to participate. Equality has been realized. We have all been denied. Color did not matter.

“As a result, Dr. King will be transfigured into stone, quarried and carved under near slave labor conditions. Reportedly, per edict of MLK Memorial Foundation Executive Architect Dr. Ed Jackson, all references to race- including the word ‘Negro’ - are to be expunged from Dr. King’s writings when inscribed on the Memorial. That is a dangerous corruption of history.

“Personally, I was pursued, invited and then uninvited from a CNN broadcast panel discussion in Aug 07, being told verbatim, ‘This is an African American Issue. You will not be needed for tonight’s show.’”

There are some other minor things I’d still dispute, both in Clint’s full comment as well as on the front page of the King Is Ours‘ website. But the additional information has indeed been eye-opening, and well worth perusal. I encourage you to check it out, particularly since I may have botched the abridgement above. I just selected some key points that I thought were particularly worth mentioning. He really does have more to say on the matter.

Mass media’s methods of information propagation aren’t really so surprising, but I must say that I am disappointed in my Dearly Beloved’s coverage of this as well. Et tu, NPR?

martin luther king, king memorial, king is ours, chinese sculptor, national mall memorial, lei yixin, racism, mass media

I’d bet money (if I had any) that schoolteacher Gillian Gibbons will probably think twice before deferring to her young and oh-so-naive pupils for the final decision at any future toy-naming ceremonies. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she drops this particular classroom activity from the curriculum altogether.

She tried it once, which I’m sure seemed like a good idea at the time, but quickly learned the hard way that those little rascals aren’t really so good at the name game. Student participation is not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be.

Of course, she’s the 54-year-old British teacher who left her teaching job in Liverpool last August to hop on a plane, destination Sudan, in order to teach in Khartoum. According to her MySpace page, she does like to travel, after all!

I assume things were going well, until that recent and most unfortunate lightbulb moment: What better way to teach a flock of seven-year-olds about animals and their habitats than to appoint a classroom mascot representative of the wild kingdom? And all kids love teddy bears, Liverpoolian and Khartoumian alike! Bingo. Idea “spot-on”, as they say in jolly old England.

So she picked up the stuffed and cuddly toy and presented the new mascot to the class, without introduction, of course, since the bear was theretofore nameless. That’s when the kids got to play Name That Bear and things began to go terribly awry. With an overwhelming majority of votes, the winning name was (drumroll, please) … Mohammed! Uh oh.

Classmates began taking turns bringing the teddy bear home, accompanied by a diary with the bear’s name written in the front of it. Parents were none too pleased, to say the least, and reported the blasphemy to the proper religious authorities.

Although there is no outright ban in the Koran on images of the Prophet Mohammed, likenesses are considered highly offensive by Muslims. As an aside, if a teddy bear indeed resembles the holy prophet, no wonder they might want to keep that little secret to themselves.

So Ms. Gibbons was hauled off to prison last Sunday to await trial after being convicted of inciting religious hatred for letting her pupils name the teddy bear Mohammed. Even though the kids had actually named the teddy after one of their most popular fellow classmates (Mohammeds run rampant in Islamic circles, coming in at number one on the list of most popular baby boy names), that alibi simply held no water.

Pre-trial incarceration wasn’t, I’m sure, Ms. Gibbons’ only concern. Knowing that the maximum penalty for her crime could very well be imprisonment for up to six months and an appointment with the whipmaster for some 40 duly administered lashes, there was undoubtedly much anxiety.

Wisely, she opted to humbly approach the bench and apologize for her blasphemous behavior. Sanity reigned and she was granted lash-amnesty, and sentenced to only 15 days in a Sudanese prison. Cool. Of course, she’ll then have to leave the country, never to return again, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem.

Then, today, just when you thought the matter was resolved, leave it to the radical Islamic masses to step it up a notch. Apparently the Sudanese at large aren’t so happy with the sentence, and so thousands, many armed with clubs, knives and axes, streamed out of their respective mosques after Friday sermons and rallied in Central Martyrs Square outside the presidential palace, demanding her execution.

Not just a lashing, mind you, but full-on execution! Even managed to recruit a fleet of pickup trucks with loudspeakers, blaring rebel-rousing messages against Gibbons.

Reported chants of choice: “No tolerance!” “Execution!” “Kill her, kill her by firing squad!” You get the picture. Clearly, they were not pleased with the verdict.

Gibbons was, of course, swiftly whisked away from the prison for her own safety, to serve her final nine days of imprisonment in an apparently undisclosed location. Hopefully she’ll make it home soon, and intact.

Yet another fine example of radical religious fanatacism. I’m sure that there are millions of Muslims who are wincing once again at the behavior of their step-brethren. Kind of like I wince when the black sheep of my universal Christian family act up. Just remember, whatever spiritual family you belong to, there are those certain members that you sometimes simply must disown.

islam, muslims, mohammed, muhammad, mohamed, gillian gibbons, british teacher, teddy bear, sudan, khartoum, radical islam, religious extremists

It’s a tradition. Every year the leader of this great nation (our homeland, one might even say), with great pomp, grants one lucky turkey a presidential pardon. It’s “turkey squared” now, though, our grace having been extended to favor two, count ‘em, two fortunate fowl, a winner and a runner-up. Just in case, I suppose.

Anyway, this year the 2007 official Thanksgiving turkey and second-place alternate, christened May and Flower respectively, were the two lucky ducks. Names determined by 29,000 online voters. Democracy in action.

Now neither need be concerned about a stranger shoving a fistful of cornbread up their ass this Thursday, and both can rest assured that their giblets will remain intact. Apologies to others of the familial flock for whom things may not bode so well. Mama hen does have some nice breasts, after all.

As George W. Bush said Monday during this most fabulous of White House customs, “May they live the rest of their lives in blissful gobbling. And may all Americans enjoy a holiday full of love and peace. God bless you all.” Yeah, George, and peace to you, too. Get a dictionary. You apparently don’t know the meaning of the word. But I digress …

Anyway, two things that I find perplexing. First and foremost being that in order to be granted pardon, one must have committed some sort of offense. What did these particular turkeys do to run afowl of the law? By either definition, noun or transitive verb, the word “pardon” means forgiveness of wrongdoing. Just exactly how nefarious are May and Flower, I wonder, and were they truly pardon-worthy?

Secondly, why bother with such ceremony? It’s really a waste of time. Sure, the reprieved will get to live the rest of their lives freely gobbling on a farm or in a petting zoo somewhere, but honestly, they’ll most likely be dead before Christmas anyway. The chosen finalists are, after all, selected by the National Turkey Federation, nothing more than a promoter and advocate for the turkey factory farms of America, keeping us all wellfed for the holidays! Those juicy Butterballs and Honeysuckles in your grocer’s freezer have to come from somewhere, and most likely were not snatched running free on the range. In all probability, they’ve been caged, drugged, forcefed, maimed and mutilated before making it to market. Properly plumped for profit, of course.

So, in fact, most of the presidentially-pardoned fail to live long. A year at best. Fast-growing, commercially raised turkeys simply grow too big for their bodies’ structures and are too susceptible to disease. They’re pretty much goners anyway. Hey, at least they can be grateful that they were amongst the luckier of their fellow cellmates, all things considered. They haven’t had their beaks, wings or feet whacked off, and of course never fell victim to the blunt end of the killing stick, all typical treatment in the bird-raising biz! If you really want to know what it takes to make your Norman Rockwell-esque Thanksgiving feast succulently perfect, watch these videos here and here. Yikes.

Tofurky anyone? Yes, please.

Regardless of how you choose to celebrate, I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving. I personally think I’ll pass on the bird this year. There are cruelty-free alternatives available, after all. Although I will miss those leftover turkey sandwiches … Finally, of course, congrats to May and Flower. To concur with Dubya, I hope that they may live the rest of their pardoned, abbreviated lives in blissful gobbling, too.

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Continuing what has become a national trend, more and more cities are passing ordinances and laws prohibiting baggy pants. Actually, “baggy” is a misnomer, because the apparently-nothing-better-to-do-masterminds behind these proposals really don’t care so much about the bagginess. Nah. In actuality the plan is to establish and enforce proper waistline etiquette. Even the fellow to the left would probably be good to go, given a proper belt.

Education is key. Just so you know, the rule of thumb, and now in some locales the rule of law, is that your trouser (or lower-body garb of choice) must be secured at the waist. If your undergarment or any portion thereof does not qualify as being under-anything, you are in violation. Pull ‘em up! Or, in some cities now, put ‘em up! You could actually do some time in the slammer for such a fashion faux pas if you find yourself in the wrong jurisdiction at the wrong time, like in Delcambre, Louisiana. Several other municipalities in Louisiana have enacted similar laws in recent months, too. Beware.

Atlanta is the most recent fashion-conscious metropolis to join the fray. There, where low-slung style is apparently all the rage, the city council proposed an amendment to public decency laws just this last August, which would make it a crime to wear baggy pants. Or at least those not suitably cinched. The proposed ordinance states that “the indecent exposure of his or her undergarments” would be unlawful in public places. It would become part of the city code that similarly outlaws sex in public and the exposure or fondling of genitals. Well, I can certainly see the parallel there.

The amendment, sponsored by esteemed city councilman C.T. Martin, states that sagging pants are an “epidemic” that is becoming a “major concern” around the country. (Holy crap, my priorities have apparently been all askew! I guess I didn’t realize the epidemic scope of this national fashion disaster.)

And to all Atlantan southern belles, you, too, should watch your steps. As well as your straps. It’s not just a boy thing. The ordinance presented by your deranged city councilman would also make it a violation if, God forbid, your bra strap might happen to show in public! Good Lordy, bring on the burkas. Better safe than sorry.

Like I said, it’s a trend. Last year Dallas, Texas city councilman Ron Price attempted to pass legislation outlawing baggy britches, too. “If all citizens … understand [that] in the city of Dallas, we refuse to let you walk around with pants showing your buttocks, that’s a message for all people.” Apparently a partial underwear reveal is synonymous with full buttock exposure.

And let’s not forget Trenton, New Jersey’s crackdown on such nefarious wardrobe no-no’s. At least in Trenton you won’t need to be concerned about ending up behind bars like you might in the Bayou state, or with simply being fined and perhaps harshly reprimanded as you would be in A-Town, set free to no doubt return to your low-rise ways. Nope. They’ve adopted a more positive approach in dealing with this menacing epidemic.

Sure, you’ll still have to pay your dues. Criminals, of course, should be held accountable for their crimes. But you certainly won’t being sent on your wayward, hopeless, sagging way without appropriate guidance and counseling! The Garden State cares. So, after paying your debt to society (checks accepted) counseling will be provided by a city worker, assessing where your life is headed, helping to put you back on the straight and narrow. Appropriately belted, of course. It’s like rehab for the fashionably challenged.

Word up. To those of you who think your waistline falls somewhere between just above your naughty bits and your knees, you might want to be vigilant in glancing over your shoulder from time to time. You may find more than just the fashion police on your tail, there might also be one of those real-life police dudes creeping up on your indecently boxer-clad exposed behind. After all, they usually have nothing better to do.

baggy pants, dress codes, baggy jeans

Three hundred and three million plus. That’s the government’s guesstimate of the current population here in the United States. That’s a lot of people! I certainly hope, though, that the geek squads at Census Central are aware of the results of the study done by Randy Pausch’s fellow professors Paul Fischbeck and David Gerard of Carnegie Mellon University, lest the numbers become skewed. A formulaic tweak may be in order! According to the Associated Press and as reported by ABC news:

“After clocks are turned back this weekend, pedestrians walking during the evening rush hour are nearly three times more likely to be struck and killed by cars than before the time change, two scientists calculate.”

As per the report, between October and November, once we’ve all duly fallen back, the per-mile risk to those on foot on our highways and byways jumps by an alarming 186 percent! It drops to 21 percent once December rolls around. Unless you’re one of the amble-prone who like living on the edge, it might behoove you to consider public transportation for a few weeks. Better safe than sorry!

Lord knows that I personally have no reason to worry. As it turns out, my lazy gene may actually be a lifesaver! I hoof it as far as the fridge from time to time for a Bud Light, but that’s about it. For those of you who are pedestrially inclined, however, you might want to watch your step, folks! The statistics are, clearly, quite startling!

Understandably, I suppose, the most perilous time of the day is about 6pm-ish, with the premature setting of the sun catching both drivers and their pedestrian victims completely off-guard! That certainly does mess with one’s head, so it’s really no surprise that the study’s horseless-carriage fatality rate is so disturbing.

Sometimes it’s hard, though, to wrap the mind around such phrases as “percentages of increase” or “x-number of times more likely to”, without putting those data in terms of real-world numbers. That’s what really makes it hit home.

So, take a deep breath, all rush-hour bipedal travelers. Fischbeck and Gerard, having extensively researched seven years of federal traffic fatalities, determined that nationwide, from sea to shining sea, the number of death-by-car incidents in November increases by an average of 37! Oh, the humanity!

That will certainly make you stop and think, I’ll bet! It’s human nature, of course, to tend to think that when tragedy befalls another, “Oh, that’s horrible, but [fill in the blank] could never happen to me!” Well, I’m just suggesting to all who may normally wander about afoot, throwing caution to the wind, that you should perhaps reconsider your mode of transportation for at least the next thirty days. Is it really worth the risk of being one of those unlucky 37? Remember, there are only 303,000,000 other potential targets. Worth taking a chance? I would think not. The results are in, you do the math.

daylight savings time, spring forward fall back, time change, standard time, pedestrian fatalities

Halloween annoys me, thank God that’s over. A herd of fat-assed rugrats in plus-size costumes begging door to door for the last thing in the world with which they should be gorging their pieholes.

These days they don’t even limit the panhandling to their own neighborhoods, no! There are apparently simply not enough calories on a single block, so they squeeze into the minivan and Mom, Dad or court-appointed guardian sets off on a road trip throughout the entire region, targeting streets that appear to be particularly popular with the masses. Curbside drop-off, kid waddles incognito to the door, gathers requisite treat and then back into the van, for the twenty-foot drive to the curb next door.

Like I said, I hate Halloween, so I’m a card-carrying non-participant with a lifetime membership. All right, I’ll admit, there are some cute kids, they’re not all fat, and not all heads of households don their chauffeur cap when the local reserve has been depleted. I exaggerate from time to time. To those, enjoy the holiday with my blessing, just please don’t bother coming to my house. And, okay, my apologies to the fat kids and the respective freewheeling guardians thereof. No offense intended.

Actually, fat kids can be funny sometimes. Maybe I’ve underestimated the comedic value of the holiday. Plump them up in the Fall for some summertime fun next year!

Still, I’m glad it’s a new day, because now that we can put last night behind us, we can look forward and begin celebrating the start of the Yuletide Season!!! Christmas is coming, and fortunately my petition drive was successful! Our local Star 102 radio station has succumbed to public pressure, and has agreed to play continuous holiday carols beginning now through Christmas Day! HO, HO, HO!

I’ll admit, it was a compromise, but I still consider it a success. My original draft proposed kicking the holiday season off on July 5th, although I confess I did find it rather difficult to find enough signatories. But hey, even conceding those nearly four months of extended holiday spirit, a small success is nonetheless an accomplishment. Of course, my ultimate goal is to celebrate Christmas year-round, 24/7/365. Makes sense to me, but I’ll remain patient until my fellow citizens come around to my way of thinking.

Obviously I am being sarcastic. Do we really need to give Santa the heads-up as early as October? I don’t think so. Until this year, Star 102, for example, began playing holiday music after Thanksgiving, through Christmas. Fine. That’s really when I consider the season to begin, and I’ll admit it is a station of choice throughout the month of December. (The rest of the year they play stuff like Michael Bolton, so I’m not what you would call a regular listener.) It is nice, though, for the month, to tune in and hear some holiday favorites. Even at that, I’ve got to say, four weeks is rather a stretch … a holiday playlist is somewhat limited, after all. Two full months, though?

No, I don’t have to listen, but it is indicative of just how absurd it is that Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I was already subjected today to overhead holiday Muzak, plastic trees, flashing lights, and over-priced Christmas chachkis at my corner drugstore. The worker-bees were making ready the holiday aisle for sale, a sea of red and green, while just two aisles down their fellow associates were stocking clearance racks with All Hallows’ Eve’s leftovers, a sea of black and orange.

I already hate Halloween, but I think if this trend towards premature Yuletide seasonal celebration continues, I could learn to hate Christmas, too. Commercialization of the holidays is irritating. I’ll hang in there with Christmas for now, though, until I have to deal with vagrant fat kids knocking on my door begging for stocking stuffers.

halloween, holidays, christmas, all hallows’ eve, trick or treat, commercialization