* * *
Oh, this is good: apparently the New York Times has made a slight error in quoting the Declaration of Independence and attributing the quote to the Constitution of the United States:
It is an eminently good thing that the anti-suicide measure would require medical specialists to keep track of veterans found to be high risks for suicide. But that’s to care for them as human beings, under that other constitutional right — to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.Emphasis mine, hoo-raw.
Personally, now I think I understand why and how the anti-gun lobby completely misses the Second Amendment of the Constitution; they're not even reading the right document, at least half the time. (Rush Limbaugh says that if liberals interpreted the 2nd Amendment the way they interpret the rest of the Constitution, we'd all be required to carry firearms at all times.)
Or perhaps that's not it at all. Maybe they think that--because the Constitution is a "living, breathing document"--that other historical papers are part of it. I notice that every time there is a discussion of illegal immigration in this country, the enscription on the base of the Statue of Liberty is mentioned: "Give us your tired, your poor...."
It's a stupid mistake for an editor at the major newspaper in the United States to make.
* * *
And as far as that goes--the Constitution being a "living, breathing document"--that's a pretty creepy image:
* * *
Dad's boats are getting donated to some charity, and they're coming today to pick them up.
The boats are old. The sailboat is 31-32 years old. The power boat is vintage 1986. In aggregate we could sell them for maybe $2000, if we were lucky; the market for power boats is somewhat depressed due to the rather high gas prices we currently enjoy. And the sailboat, I am told, has an issue with its keel, and needs repair before it can be used.
The sailboat hasn't been in the water since 1994; the power boat hasn't been used for several years at least. Yes, theoretically, we could sell them; but it's easier to donate them and take the tax write-off than it is to spend time and money getting them usable again in order to sell them--and selling them in late August would be a neat trick in any event.
Anyway, I had to go grease the bearings. A five-minute job, you say; and you would be right if it was anyone else doing it.
I had to go buy grease for my grease gun, because I used up the last of the grease when I put the tie rod ends on the red Escort. There were three people in front of me at the auto parts store; the people at the head of the line were trying to return something they'd bought more than three months ago without a receipt. Argh. They were there when I entered the store; I browsed around a bit, looking for a few odds and ends in addition to what I had come for...and even so, I waited another ten minutes when I was ready to check out. Drive home, load the grease gun, and then...five minutes later, job is done.
It took most of a cartridge of grease, too, because I have a tiny little grease gun that uses the mini grease cartridges. So the next time I want to grease something (*cough* Cherokee *cough*) I'm going to have to load it again. *sigh*
End total: over an hour to do a five-minute job. WTF.
* * *
I can't believe how thoroughly disgusted I was by the Gainax-trainwreck ending of I"s, and Gainax didn't even have anything to do with it. But I haven't bothered to look at the supplemental material, and I haven't looked at the two OVAs yet, either.
My biggest fear is that I'll get to the end of the manga and find out that ending was actually canon. That would make me ill.
* * *
And because this coming weekend is Labor Day weekend, gas is $3.20 per gallon here in Crete. Argh etc.
Well, it'll be more than that next spring, so I might as well get used to it. It'll be more each successive spring until someone finally starts building a couple of freaking refineries in the US. But don't hold your breath waiting for that shit to happen.
We're spending more on building ethanol plants than we are on increasing refinery capacity, which is fricking stupid. Ethanol is not going to replace enough gasoline to be worth it, and the only reason it's such a growth industry right now is because the government is subsidizing it. Yes, oil costs a lot; but the biggest chunk of the price of gas is the cost of refining the oil into usable chemicals, and you need a refinery to do that--and the US is currently using 100% of its refinery capacity all the time.
Next thing you know we'll be importing gasoline from Mexico. Mark my words.
* * *
I wonder if others have this problem.
On a day like today, when I have the day off and want to get something done, I'll get up and have breakfast, then try to get going on whatever the task du jour is.
...and then I have to stop and hit the can.
It's like getting up and moving prompts my colon to kick into high gear or something. Work! The natural laxative!
--but it's not really funny; it's irritating as hell. It wouldn't bother me so much if I wasn't in the habit of hitting the bathroom anyway before starting on something. And it doesn't happen right away. Normally it'll wait until I've gotten all the tools out and made a start on the job, and then:
Gut: Erm, excuse me.
G: Gotta go.
B: We were just in the bathroom. Why didn't you say anything?
G: Well, I didn't know we were going to go outside. I thought I had time.
B: Can't you wait?
G: Er, not really.
B: If you could wait then, why can't you wait now?
B: That's it? "Because"?
G: What do you want? I'm a tube!
B: Oh my God I hate you.
...and then I have to put everything away and close and lock everything before I can go inside and answer the call of nature. Sometimes (only "sometimes") I can get Mom to come outside and watch everything while I go inside, but I'm not about to leave everything open so some asshat can just casually stride up the driveway and relive me of hundreds of dollars' worth of tools.
Some useless piece of trash helped himself to all the dimes and quarters in my red car a few months ago after one of the doors had been left unlocked, and he left his BO on my upholstery, the fucker. So I do my best to make sure everything is secure when I'm not around.
I hope the buttplug really needed that change for something like cigarettes. It'll serve him right when he has to tow around a little oxygen cylinder in order to breathe.
* * *
caller: I think that murdering the homeless would be wrong. It's--
host: Oh yeah? Well, you're old! What the hell would you know about living in our modern society anyway?
H: "But" nothing! Shut up, you old bag! Next caller.
C2: Hello? Is this the number I dial to get a Super Slice-o-matic?
H: Get the hell off my show, you buttplug!
...this little exchange is from the legendary movie Captain Fantastic, made by me and some friends of mine in 1991. I remembered it at work the other night and I could not stop laughing.
No, I never get punchy when working overnights. Not at all.