RetrophischThis isn’t necessarily an anti-spam measure; it’s more along the lines of revenge. From the latest Dilbert newsletter comes this reader gem:
Here’s a fun hobby of mine: When I get e-mail spam that includes an 800-number, I save the number for later. Then when one of the hundreds of Nigerian scam e-mails hits my e-mail box, I reply enthusiastically and give the 800-number of the spammer as my own. I feel that people in the DNRC have a responsibility to introduce A-holes to each other.
Now I know why I like “I Drove All Night” by Celine Dion so much–it’s a Roy Orbison song.
It was driving me batty; I knew this wasn’t an original song by Celine, that I had heard it before. I remembered liking it from those past listening sessions. I knew it was a male voice kicking around in my head. Then it just suddenly clicked.
I’m digging out my Orbison cassettes and CDs when I get home…
Damn you, Daimler-Chrysler.
Thanks to your commercials, I cannot get Celine Dion’s “I Drove All Night” out of my head. Now the MP3 is in rotation in iTunes. She has a set of pipes on her, I’ll say that much.
(from her latest album)
A barber shop. That’s what I want. Not a salon. Not another Supercuts, Great Clips, Sports Clips, or any other generic salon-style chain that have all but killed the Great American Barber Shop. I’m tired of salons. I’m tired of Great Clips, Sports Clips, Supercuts, et al. Salons are for the ladies. Men don’t see stylists; we see barbers.
I want real barber chairs, hot shaving foam, straight razors. The operation overseen by a cast of crusty old SOBs who know how to talk sports, politics, hunting, fishing, power tools, cars; you know, guy stuff.
Call the chamber of commerce, suggests my spouse. Ask them if they know of any in the town. Well, what do you know? 🙂
Just opened this past October, the Back N Time Antique Barber Shop is what I’ve been looking for. The staff isn’t old, or crusty, and I’ve only been there once, so I can’t speak much as to if they are SOBs. But we talked March Madness and hockey. Complimentary sodas. Complimentary snacks & candy. Antique furniture, especially of the barber-shop variety. They have an old cash register that would take at least two guys to carry out the door, more likely three–if it wasn’t bolted to an antique cabinet. An old shoeshine stand stands guard by the front door, which is flanked by barber poles.
Oh, right–the haircut. Aces. I got a great haircut in the kind of atmosphere I grew up with. I will definitely be seeing Steve, Fred, Ace, and Jimmie Z again.
Something I’ve noticed from the various firearms magazines I read: their online presences suck. The various publications from Harris, for instance, only show the latest cover and table of contents, and a link to subscribe. No links to articles listed in the TOC. Nope, nothing from that issue available online. Guns Magazine fares only slightly better, giving you the feature story from each month to read. Whoever is uploading the accompanying pictures for those features needs to be fired (no pun intended); they are abhorrent. Granted, nothing would compare with the high-resolution glossies in the paper mag, but these are ridiculous.
Come on, guys, get it together. I can sort of understand not putting up anything from the current month’s magazine; you don’t want to gut your off-the-shelf sales. At the very least you should be uploading all of your back issues, with all of the articles and columns, not just the monthly “feature.” If you want to charge a nominal subscription fee, a la Consumer Reports, Playboy, et al, then go for it, but give us a chance at more content than a solitary article and a cover picture.
Jerry Jerk, er, Jones, has released the NFL’s all-time leading rusher from the Dallas Cowboys. Players take note: this is how Jerry rewards your (well-paid) service to his organization. After 13 years, 3 Super Bowl wins, and the rushing title, Emmitt is now out in the cold. The only reason Jones kept Smith around for the 2002 season was so Number 22 would break the league rushing record in a Cowboys uniform; again, glorification for Jones’ ego.
In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not a Cowboys fan, and have not been since we moved to Dallas. I remain, however, an Emmitt Smith fan, and I hope he gets what he wants: a shot at another Super Bowl as a team’s number-one back.
Everyone in Dallas will be in tears that Jerry let Emmitt go, but they’ll spin it as simply a financial matter, that Smith is costing the team too much money. Jerry has long hinted that he doesn’t think Emmitt has what it takes any more to be a number-one running back. Gee, Jerry, maybe if Emmitt had an offensive line that could block elderly grandmothers, much less Pro Bowl linebackers, that would’ve helped the past three seasons. And a quarterback that could throw accurately and consistently wouldn’t hurt either.
Burger King has joined McDonald’s on my places of never to eat again.
So, back in January, the New York Times’ editorial page headline screamed “The War Against Women,” the letter therein lambasting the Bush administration’s moves with regard to the right to life. The Times chose to use the term “anti-choice” in the editorial, rather than “pro-life.”
This fails to honor the news-writing custom of adopting a group’s preferred terminology in referring to its aims. Therefore, I (while not a newsperson, per se, but at any rate…) shall no longer refer to the opposition as “pro-choice,” but rather as “pro-death,” since that’s what they really are. Coke or Pepsi is a choice, the life of a child is not.
You know that annoying Nike Shox ad with the guy running across the soccer field wearing only his Shox shoes and a scarf? Reebok, with the help of Terry Tate, has effectively nuked it, and good riddance. Kudos, Reebokkers!!
(registration and QuickTime or WMP required — click on “Streak This, Baby!”)
Well, after taking a couple of sick days, I’m beginning to feel normal again. The anti-nausea and anti-spasmodic drugs the ER doc prescribed for me have been helping immensely. I can feel my appetite coming back as well, eating 2 bowls of chicken and relatively bland stuff (water chestnuts, celery, white and green onions) at Genghis Grill, before dropping my sister off at the airport for her flight home.
Yesterday, for kicks, I got on the scale, and discovered that I had lost somewhere between 7-10 pounds in about 48 hours. I say 7-10 because I generally float within a 5-pound range when I weigh myself.
Plenty of rest has gone a long way toward recovery, and I should be back in the saddle at work tomorrow. For those that knew, thanks for your kind words and thoughts.