atomic_fungus (atomic_fungus) wrote,

#2754: General Tao!

General, I've got your chicken, and it is tasty.

The guy at the Chinese place didn't even have to ask my number when I showed up to get it. I guess I'm a "regular" now. Heh.

It reminded me of when I lived in Cedar Rapids. Me, Mark, and Robb would all get together on Thursday nights to hang out and stuff, and sometimes we'd go to Thai Moon for dinner. It got to the point that when we showed up there, the host asked, "Gentlemen! Your usual table?" It was neat, and fun.

We were non-rowdy and we tipped well, so I guess we were the good kind of regulars. And the food there was great.


* * *


* * *

Thank God this isn't going to happen to me. A bunch of legal firearms, legally purchased, but now deemed illegal because people lost their rights due to mental illness or what-have-you.

"They were known to be a danger to themselves or society." I am neither, yet because of a stupid legal technicality I'm in the same boat.

"Harris said local law enforcement and state agents don't have the time or personnel to track down their addresses and conduct the high-security operations needed to safely seize the guns from people who are presumed to be dangerous. Many of them own more than one weapon." "High-security" is code for "SWAT teams breaking down doors".

A lot of those people would probably respond reasonably to a couple of cops knocking politely on the door and informing them, "Hey, we know you have guns, and your license to own was revoked on such-and-such, and we've got a warrant to search your home for firearms and take possession of whatever ones we find."

Very, very few people will respond to that with gunfire. Even people who are deemed "mentally ill" or those with restraining orders against them. Chances are that--if they had their shit together sufficiently to be legal gun owners--they're not going to screw with the police, but will comply. (Perhaps--probably--not cheerfully, but they'll comply.) You save the SWAT teams for the people who slam the doors in the cops' faces or who are otherwise obstreperous.

This automatic recourse to quasi-military arrests is quite literally fascist, and has to stop.

* * *

The yen rises against the dollar. It's only been a few months since the earthquake. The "broken windows" phallacy takes time to become obvious.

* * *

This is progress: the Senate voted to end ethanol subsidies. That's good, because it means less food will be uselessly turned into fuel.

* * *

Years ago I used to like Janeane Garofalo. Then she opened her mouth and revealed herself to be incredibly, incredibly stupid.

* * *

A thorough demolition of AGW. Worth reading.

* * *

And I even remembered the story I wanted to tell! Last night I was half-asleep when it hit me, and my eyes snapped wide open. I got up and wrote it down, and now I can tell the tale!

There was a time in my life when I had one friend whose name didn't begin with M. Marcus, Mike, Mace--and then there was Eric. And my Mom joked, "Marcus, Mike, Mace, Meric." Heh.

Not a lot of information is conveyed when I say that M. had a pervy sense of humor, except to those who already know him; and to make matters worse, this was in junior high.

One fine Christmas season, then--around 1980-1982-ish--M. began singing "Frosty the Snowman", but his lyrics were "Frosty the Pervert". I have substituted "blah" for words I cannot remember:
Frosty the Pervert
Was a blah blah blah blah blah
With a corncob pipe and a button nose
and a penis made of snow

(more missing words)

There must've been some magic in
that old dildo they found
'cause when they jammed it in his crotch*
he began to dance around
*may actually have been "...jammed it in his ass"
As you can see, it was pretty...uh...yeah. Well, he got to the part about "down to the village, with his penis in his hand," you know, and coming to the cop, the cop yelling "Stop!" and stuff.

Getting to the bridge, M. paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. Then:

"Humpity hump hump
"Humpity hump hump
"Look at Frosty screw!"'s just as well that he started laughing and couldn't keep going, because I was busting just about every gut God gave me laughing at this nonsense. (Look, I was in junior high, too; what do you expect?)

Think about this the next time you hear "Frosty the Snowman", and try not to laugh out loud. I do, every year.

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