Uh...?

Pack of Chihauhuas attack Fremont officer
OFFICER WAS ESCORTING TEEN HOME AFTER 3 A.M. TRAFFIC STOP

By Lisa Fernandez

A pack of nippy Chihuahuas attacked a Fremont police officer as he escorted a teenager home at 3 a.m. after an early morning traffic stop.

The case all began when officers Paul Mourgos and Paul Rush spotted a 17-year-old boy driving Wednesday about 3 a.m. without a driver's license, and escorted him home to his parent's house. When they arrived and he opened the door, five itty-bitty dogs ``viciously attacked'' officer Rush, according to a Fremont police report.

Of course, the dogs couldn't reach anything higher than Rush's ankles, and the officer was treated and released from the hospital with only minor gnashes, police said.
Rush is the third Fremont officer in two months bitten by a dog.

The dog attack was the first of two bizarre incidents that happened in Fremont in the wee hours of the same morning.

Two hours earlier at about 1:15 a.m., a mother and daughter were sleeping at their Niles neighborhood home when someone was able to unhook a kitchen window screen, slide open the glass and get inside, according to a police report.

The mother, whose name was not released and whose husband is traveling in India, awoke to find a man typing on a computer in an upstairs bedroom. She quickly went into the master bedroom to call police, and the man fled without taking anything or hurting anyone. When the woman went to check what the mystery man was doing, she noticed ``erotic Indian art'' left on her computer as a screen-saver.

He should have chosen Bush.

Right here: "When she found out her son volunteered for Iraq, she said, 'I died,' but added that she supports him wholeheartedly even though she doesn't support the war."

Walnut Creek soldier anxious to get to Iraq
By Danielle Samaniego

Marine Lance Cpl. Damian Musante refused to wait for a tour of duty in Iraq.
When the Walnut Creek resident found out his unit wouldn't be deployed anytime soon, he found a unit that was. He asked for a transfer from a San Bruno unit to one out of New Hampshire, putting him on a fast track that should get him to the Middle East in a few months.
It's a stint he's been mentally prepping for since childhood, when he dreamed of being a military man. In 2003, he joined the Corps after reading a newspaper article on soldiers putting their best efforts into the ongoing war.

"I thought maybe, had I been there, I could have helped out," said Musante, who is part of an elite infantry trained for close combat. "A lot of people join to get a cool tattoo and brag about it to girls, but I'm trying to bring somebody back that couldn't get back."
With his move, Musante will say goodbye to his 2nd Battalion, 23rd Marine Infantry Division. The 28-year-old says his gung-ho attitude stems from his years of training with the Marine Corps, a group he likens to the underdogs of the military and the first to go before combat.
"It's a different type of training and war fighter ... it's more exclusive, more special," he said. "We get hand-me-down Army rifles and the worst gear, but it doesn't matter; the man behind the rifle is still cut from a different material."

While Musante fostered a desire to join the military from a young age, he didn't immediately enlist after high school. He toiled in community college and held odd jobs to keep afloat. But he decided to get his act together in 2003, when the war broke out.[? Sounds like some sort of disease that arose spontaneously.]

"I've always tried to do things for other people; I haven't always been successful, but those are my intentions," he said. "I thought to myself, 'When I'm an old man in my rocking chair, what would I wish I had done?' Joining the Marines would have been it, and I couldn't live with that."
If it were up to Musante's mother, Penny Musante, she could have easily lived without seeing her son step onto Middle Eastern soil for combat. A pacifist who volunteers with the Peace Center in Walnut Creek, Penny Musante thought her son's military passion subsided with adulthood.

"His whole life has been wrapped around doing something, Navy Seal or something, since he was really young. He wore camouflage pants as a child, and did paint-balling. I would hope that would have gotten it out of his system, but it didn't," she said. "I was shocked when he graduated from high school and didn't go into the military. Happy, but shocked."
Because she never let her son play with guns as a child, he ended up building his own out of paper or using sticks or bananas for play weapons. When she found out her son volunteered for Iraq, she said, "I died," but added that she supports him wholeheartedly even though she doesn't support the war.

For his part, Damian Musante understands how his mother, whom he calls his "patron saint," feels.
"She cries when I'm not around and so does my girlfriend, but I try to keep my head nice and clean. They do a real good job of not falling apart when I'm around," he said. "Regardless of political agenda, I'll be wherever the Marines are."

Musante will go through more training when he gets to Twenty-nine Palms before moving to Iraq in a couple of months for a six-to-seven month stint. Once there, he will be part of three missions, including foot patrols, clearing border cities and strongholds of insurgents and convoy operations.

Though he admits that he's not too excited about the idea of being on big trucks because they're the biggest targets for attacks, he is ready for this next phase in his military career.
"The only thing I have apprehension about is making a mistake and getting a Marine killed or killing an innocent civilian," he said. "I don't worry about my own safety, it doesn't phase me at all, but I don't want to get anyone else hurt out there."

Addendum: Why is it so easy for the bigoted to say "I'm ashamed of my child" and so hard for the less bigoted to say the same thing without adding "but"? Why do they erode their ethics when it comes to their children?

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Yet another mother's idiot son:
http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/12/30/teen.iraq/

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Listening to:

Iggy Pop: TV eye, 1977 Live
Dion and the Belmonts: A Teenager in Love, The Best of Dion and the Belmonts
Paul Simon: The Paul Simon Collection, On My Way, Don’t Know Where I’m Goin’, disc #1
Vince Gill: Souveniers
Rod Stewart: Camouflage
Nina Simone: Live At Ronnie Scott’s

there's nothing but a sour bunch of beads hanging down. Time passes, the sun ripens them, they become as sweet as honey, and then they're called grapes. We trample on them;we extract the juice and put it into casks; it ferments on its own, it's become wine! It's a miracle!"

Nikos Kazantzakis (1885-1957), Greek poet and writer

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Listening to:

Rod Stewart: Unplugged and Seated
Boy George: High Hat
Chicago: The Very Best of: Only the Beginning, disc #2
Abba: The Definitive Collection, disc #2
Cirque d Solei l: O
Moby: 18

this sounded like a real "ewwww" moment. Until I read this. And then....oh, hell, it still sounds like a real "ewwww" moment. *L*

Life & "Art."

I read, but don’t participate in, several message boards. On one there is a person who drives me absobloomin’ nuckin’ futz. Why? Because no matter what the discussion question she just has to pop up with something akin to "I don’t know the answer to your question, but I’m sure someone will be along to answer it for you soon." Okay, I admit I’ve been known to do some extremely annoying things on message boards, so why should this bother me soooooo much? I just want to get out my squirrel gun and shoot the woman!*

****************

Listening to:

Norah Jones:Come Away With Me
Chicago: The Very Best of: Only the Beginning, disc #1
Abba: The Definitive Collection, disc #1
Rod Stewart: A Night on the Town
Culture Club: Kissing to be Clever
Various Artists: Superhits, the Mid-60's

*my FANTASY squirrel gun, that is.

Inhuman Rights

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Listening to:

The Staple Singers: Freedom Highway
Brian Wilson: Smile
Queen: A Day at the Races
No Doubt: Return of Saturn
Various Artists: Superhits 1965
Savage Garden: Savage Garden

The Bush Family patriarch

Lace cascade scattered along Nature’s bridal veil path.
Tangled twisted tans entwine Taiwan with China teas.
What’s shredded black and white and read all over?
"Extra! Extra! H. Dumpty’s body found crushed,
In ruins of dismal, grey compartment house!"
Barren lemon womb; Avocado pregnancy.
Announcement of unvirgin birth.
The ghost of Christmas present.
The ghost of Christmas past.
Unplaited crowns of thorns.
Crosspiece of resurrections.
Grounds for improvement.
Green->Yellow->Brown->
Silkyslimyclumps of
Once-upon-a-time.
"What was that?"
Worm shit.
Crumbled.
Mulched.
Soiled.
Life!

A fox squirrel digs for buried treasure.

if anyone else has noticed that the user stats "profile views" increase by increments of 8.

My computer is soooo festive. The desktop is decorated with the pic on my profile today (I've been changing both daily for the past week) and the chili pepper lights are on. Whooeee! I'm in the MOOD!

Hmmm...now why does "temporary extension" remind me so much of " temporary tax ?"

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On the stereo:

carter the unstoppable sex machine: blame the goverment
The Dovells: All Their Hits & More (disc 2)
Moby: Moby
Queen: The Game
Natalie Merchant: Tigerlily
Rod Stewart: If We Fall in Love Tonight

is just another manipulative Fear Factor propaganda ploy. Remember the anthrax mania ? I still believe it was started by some nutcase directly angry with the National Enquirer and the other four (five, total! count them, five!) who died were just victims of track-covering. Sheesh!

"Elton 'weds'... and the grooms wore black"

David and Elton!

Much as I love Rep. Barbara Lee, her latest statement on the local interview program made me laugh. In reaction to the illegal spying*/destruction of citizens’ rights mess, she declares that the American public has the right to know whom the administration is spying on. Uh...so that we can cast bricks and/or brickbats at possibly innocent people?

* And even the legal way involves going to a secret court to get a warrant. Do I hear the soft tinkling of the words "secret police" in the dark background of my uneasy mind?

HAPPY SOLSTICE DAY !

I wove a wreath out of Elaeagnus commutata clippings, hung it out on the patio, and am decorating it with fluffy bolls of dryer lint for the birdies to use for building their nests in the spring.
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On the stereo:
The Dovells: All Their Hits & Much More
Various Artists: Super Hits 1970
Red Hot Chili Peppers: Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Queen: Made in Heaven
Cher: Believe
Pet Shop Boys:Discography

("Remember when tenacity used to be seen as an admirable trait?"
"The end is STILL near!! And criticism of past failures in prophecy just lends aid and comfort to the enemy!" )

I am anxious to see "Memoirs of a Geisha," even if it turns out to be a dud, because it portends to be visually stunning.

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They should have passed out manure shovels last night, so that everyone in the Oval Office could dig their way out. Hmm.....on second thought.....

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Another Blogger annoyance--when you write a draft and eventually publish it, it shows up as published on the time and date of the original draft.

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In the stereo:

Queen: A Night at the Opera
Blood Sweat and Tears: 3
Nine Inch Nails: Sin
Various Artists: In From the Storm
George Michael: Patience
Nina Simone: Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

1. there must be something not quiet nice in KFC's Extra Crispy Chicken that makes it extra crispy?

2. the bath tub is not the smartest place to be during a lightning storm? (Yeah, I hopped out right spritily.)

3. the number "69" is losing its sexual significance?

4. too many people demand the "equal pay" part and ignore the "equal work" part?

5. that it's annoying that you can add only so many Blogger "interests" and when you go over your limit, the older ones slide off of your visible profile?

Last night I made a mistake and I stuck with it to the very bitter, boring end, because I was too lazy to get up out of the recliner and do what needed to be done. I watched "Meet the Fockers." Several of my friends and acquaintances had told me it was hilarious. I really should have known better. I rarely agree with one of those friends about movies and when I do, I tend to wonder what is wrong with me.

What makes me laugh? That’s an easy question to answer. Wit–the clever manipulation of words by likeable people in every day life or put in awkward or even improbable situations. Ogden Nash comes to mind. He frequently created a need and filled it with a word that didn’t exist but should have. I love to witness the deflation of a Hindenburg ego by the prick of a finely sharpened riposte. And a good (yes, there is such a thing) pun. There was none of that in the film . I do not think watching a cat flushing a small dog down the toilet is funny (though I might laugh uproariously if the same situation were depicted in a Far Side comic–that’s another essay, isn’t it?). And by "likeable people" I certainly do not mean Goody Two Shoes . My upper lip curls and my mind goes on hiatus whenever I encounter that excessively saccharine breed. My friends range from those who view the world acerbically to optimists who live in it joyously, but with a strict eye on realism. And there’s a sparkle in that eye that tells me humor about themselves and others resides there.

Of the four parents in "Fockers" I could find not one with whom I could empathize by imagining them to be friends or even by imagining them to be myself. If I met any of them, I’d do a mental glaze-over and hope to make it through the rest of my life without ever having to meet them again. Boors and nincompoops do not amuse me, except by giving me fodder for my imaginary putdowns.

Lest anyone think I’m a full-time snob, I’m not immune to silliness. One of the most amusing movies I saw as a youngster was "You Never Can Tell" in which a dog and a horse are reincarnated as detective and secretary. I still laugh when I remember the scene in which the secretary is running to catch a bus and on the sound track you hear the clomping of a horse at high speed. Corny–idiotic even. But it pretended to be nothing else. And I found the characters to be very likeable. In the "Fockers" there was an undercurrent of distaste–something not quite mean, but not quite not either.

WhooHoo! I scored some tickets for "Queen + Paul Rodgers." Now I just have to steel myself for the performance without Freddie Mercury. Gonna be weird. Not that I ever saw Queen WITH Freddie, but I have video after video of the group–MTV-type thangs and live performance and interview thangs--so I’m pretty familiar with what he was like, at least for the consumption of the public appetite .

Glass glittered my path.

Shards.
Gems.
Dust.

Not Safe-T.
Not C-gram’s.
K-Mart crystal.

80 toasts,
Without fireplaces,
Hurled to the pavement instead?

The Dwarf lit up a Benson and Hedges.
"Don’t you know you’ll stunt your growth?"
Bubbled up and stuck in my p.c. throat.

I’m feeling abivalent about the death of Stanley Tookie (Since that is his given middle name, why does the press insist on putting quotes around it?) Williams. There is no question that I am against capital punishment. It is a horrific confirmation of our species’ vengeful bloodthirst. However, the man was sentenced under the present law and despite all the outward appearances of reform, it seems there is a possibility that he was still involved in running the gang from inside prison. Whether or not this is true, and whether or not the law is just, it is the law. So, I guess the real question in my mind is this: Given the law under which he was sentenced, was it proper to execute him?

I’m having trouble with my profile page. Anything I have to type in sticks. Anything I have to make a preset choice for sticks for a little while (minutes, hours, days?) and then POOF! No one seems to know what’s wrong, so I guess I’m just going to have to live with the static quo.

Given how much I love to decorate for Christmas, instead of yearning for having been a librarian, maybe I should have been a window dresser. However, I think I’d skip the part where an acquaintance of mine in the profession staple-gunned her eye.

"The Norwegian Nobel Committee said in October that the agency and ElBaradei were honored for their "incalculable importance" in promoting nuclear nonproliferation and ensuring safe, peaceful use of nuclear energy."

Don't get me wrong, ElBaradei is doing important work, but this takes me back to one of my pet peeves, the words, "rules of war," which I find to be as perverse and oxymoronic a phrase as was ever uttered. Why is nuclear warfare so much worse than our lovely tradition of hand-to-hand (or bomb to bomb) combat? Because it slaughters hundreds of thousands at one swell foop? Well, damn. Let’s just slaughter those hundreds of thousands one person at a time. Let’s give them lingering deaths or, even better yet, lingering lives. Yup. So much kinder, don’t you think? Phooey!

"Ensuring safe, peaceful use of nuclear energy"?

As of this writing, there ain’t no such bird, unless it’s the extinct dodo. Peaceful, sure. Safe? Who wants to hop into a barrel of nuclear waste and ride it over Niagra Falls with me? Or even sit in the damned sludge barrel and sunbathe with me on a substantial piece of ground. No takers? Thought so.

Colin Egglesfield If so, I hope he's not as nutsoid as Tom.

1. Paul McCartney is bland and talentless?
2. the poorer a person is, the more likely it is that they smoke?
3. the "Peanuts" specials are boring, particularly because of the insipid, tinkledydinkedly music of Vince Guaraldi?
4. Tata Vega sounds like a jazzier, more soulful version of Boy George?

I was alerted to this artist http://www.artfacts.net/index.php/pageType/artistInfo/artist/1442/lang/1 via a blog whose author seemed to think there was an undercurrent of pedophilia about this http://http://www.seattleartmuseum.org/PressRoom/prRelease.asp?prID=120 . http://www.komotv.com/news/images/naked_art_092805.jpg

Is there?

I wish I could figure out how to link without putting the entire addy in the entry.

Due to automobilic circumstances beyond my control, the trip didn’t get started until late Tues, so we decided to stay an extra day (or, rather, part thereof). Luckily there was no one else booked for it. If it hadn’t been the weekend, we’d have stayed another day as well, but Sunday traffic coming down from Tahoe is a bitch. Other than that small botch-up, the short getaway temporarily salved the itch of my traveling feet. The weather was nearly perfect except for the expected highs lower than the lows at home and a little rain one day. But with the warmth of the fireplace to cozy up to at the condo, who cared. Did a lot of hiking, cuddling, and snuggling. And a little gambling. I broke even, so HAH! on the casinos and their one-armed bandits!

A wine glass slipped from my fingers as I was putting it away in the cupboard, hit the counter below, and shattered. And a shard bounced up and cut my upper lip. I guess I should be thankful it didn't pierce one of my eyes, but this is not something I was really praying for just before my trip to Tahoe. I look like I was in a bar fight. Crudola!

I don't love you as if you were rose of salt, topaz
or carnations arrow that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved
between the shadow and the soul.

Pablo Neruda

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/04/weekinreview/04seelye.html

Well, it may not be Ireland, but I leave for Tahoe on Mon. and will return on Fri. WhooHoo!

A while back my beloved CD player died. It was no surprise given the use the shuffle mode got. It was constantly in motion. So, I began the search for a new player. A stroke of luck! I found the exact same player at Best Buy. Brought it home, set it up, and damned if it wasn't defective. Dismantled it. Took it back. Bought a replacement. Brought it home, set it up, and damned if it wasn't defective, again, too, and also! Okay, so I took the hint. Widened the search. Finally found a combo CD/DVD player. Brought it home, set it up, and it worked! Sorta. It's VERY complicated to use and as far as I can figure out, there's no way to put the 6 CD's in, set it on random mode, and not have songs repeat without knowing which ones have never been played. It doesn't just shuffle through the songs once. It plays longer than infinity. So I listen on chain mode, which, as anyone who knows me, does not set well with me. Right now I'm listening to Ottmar Liebert. Then Diana Krall will entertain me. Next on the schedule, Rod Stewart. Then, sandwiched between Marilyn Manson and Bette Midler will be Adrian Belew. I hope he enjoys the cuddle from the odd couple.

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I've set myself a reading task. I hope to read bios (not autobios) of all the presidents before I expire, or die, which ever comes first. I'm not very far into the project. In the past I've read bios of Truman, Roosevelt, and Adams. On the nightstand is one on Washington. I have a lot of reading to do before the eternal end.

Last night was the first Dungeness crab of the season. Even if it was shipped all the way from Washington state, it was sweet and succulent. (Hopefully the new CA catch will show up in the market soon.) A green salad from the garden and warm sourdough. Ah. Oh, and a sip or two or twenty or forty of gewurtztraminer.

Today I'm roasting a turkey so that there will be the leftovers for turkey sandwiches which I sadly miss when I don't have T'day here. And I'm hoping that the smell of the roasting bird covers up the ooze of skunk that is seeping in through every pore of the house.

on a blustery, rainy morning than making cinnamon rolls while the sounds of a long, calm ambient piece play in the background?

From an Article in the November 2005 Saveur:

"Rena rose every morning before dawn. 'We worked daylight to dark. On winter mornings, I had to put on a coat and overshoes to go into the kitchen to build up the fire for the cookstove,' she remembers. 'I made oats, biscuits, sausages and bacon, eggs, and coffee. Oh, and corn bread, always corn bread.' On Sundays she would make breakfast and cook lunch before they started on the three-mile trek to the Church of Christ in Blue Springs. The older children [there were 13 in all in the family] walked, and Rena and William each carried a little one. 'We'd come back home to eat; then in the afternoon we'd walk the three miles over to the Sinks ([community])* to another church service. It was where my grandpa went, and it was a chance to see him. I loved Sundays.' Rena says."

Whew! I guess I'm pretty spoiled. I don't think I could conjure up a feeling of love for such an endeavor. Could you?

* I couldn't figure out how to handle the quoting the brackets in the article, so I just enclosed them in the parens. The other set of brackets are mine.