The Shit I Read
Change Fort WayneCraig
Fort Wayne Observed
Downtown FW Baseball
"Libertarians"
Jeff Pruitt & Co.
FW Beach Volleyball
Blog of the Enders
Fetchy's Bantering
Everett White
John Good
Left of Cenrist
Joe Taylor
Scott's Simple Story
Tinnel Vision
Ain't That Sherific?
Roachster
Leo Morris
IN Pundit (sometimes)
Bob G's Place
Juan Bodley's Hell
Blue Indiana
The U-Blog Cabal
Fort Wayne Artists
Second Grade Online
Chad Gramling
Six Meat Buffet
Doug Masson
Mike Kole
3'O'Clock A.M.
Bartleby
Etc
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Thursday, August 31, 2006
3 REASONS WHY RACISM IS ALIVE AND WELL
Kind of hard to argue with that isn't it?
Monday, August 28, 2006
Why Is It Always Somebody Elses' Fault?
As the result of another hi-tech satellite outage from Direct-TV (we call it rain and clouds) , I was forced to do something I liken to having my fingernails pulled out slowly with a pliers. Yes, I was forced to watch network news. My jaws are still clenched.
Of course, the major topic for this week on all three networks has been and will continue to be a look back at the callous disregard we have all shown our brethren in New Orleans following the wrath of what surely must have been a completely unexpected hurricane last year named "Katrina". One can only assume it was unexpected, as it appears nobody could find a way out with only 5 days warning.
My favorite analogy is: You are sitting in your stalled car on the railroad tracks for FIVE DAYS. Every HOUR somebody comes over the radio and tells you there is a train coming. A couple times a day a cop comes by with a megaphone and warns you about the train too. Finally on the 5th day, you can hear the train whistle, you can see the locomotive coming at you, yet you refuse to get the hell out of your car. So the car gets hit, you survive and you're pissed because:
A. Nobody dragged you out of your car.
B. The medics took too long to get there.
C. Nobody immediately gave you $2000 for cabfair.
D. Nobody immediately gave you a loaner car.
The list could go on and on but you get the point.
What ever became of personal responsibility?
Of course, the major topic for this week on all three networks has been and will continue to be a look back at the callous disregard we have all shown our brethren in New Orleans following the wrath of what surely must have been a completely unexpected hurricane last year named "Katrina". One can only assume it was unexpected, as it appears nobody could find a way out with only 5 days warning.
My favorite analogy is: You are sitting in your stalled car on the railroad tracks for FIVE DAYS. Every HOUR somebody comes over the radio and tells you there is a train coming. A couple times a day a cop comes by with a megaphone and warns you about the train too. Finally on the 5th day, you can hear the train whistle, you can see the locomotive coming at you, yet you refuse to get the hell out of your car. So the car gets hit, you survive and you're pissed because:
A. Nobody dragged you out of your car.
B. The medics took too long to get there.
C. Nobody immediately gave you $2000 for cabfair.
D. Nobody immediately gave you a loaner car.
The list could go on and on but you get the point.
What ever became of personal responsibility?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Happy Anniversary, Jill
I just wanted to take a quick second here to wish my lovely wife a happy 1st anniversary...publicly. She must be extraordinarily forgiving, considering to whom she is married.
We spent our anniversary evening getting sweaty! OK, not the way you gutter-brains are thinking...
For our first anniversary, we decided to buy our first home (goodbye, landlords!). We packed and moved boxes of stuff all evening...and sweated as a result.
Just so y'all don't think I'm getting soft on you, here is something more on par with the theme of J4TR:
We spent our anniversary evening getting sweaty! OK, not the way you gutter-brains are thinking...
For our first anniversary, we decided to buy our first home (goodbye, landlords!). We packed and moved boxes of stuff all evening...and sweated as a result.
Just so y'all don't think I'm getting soft on you, here is something more on par with the theme of J4TR:
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Local Anus Enthusiast Spewing Venom....Again
I have just received an email from the venerable Angry White Boy indicating his desire to discuss this topic. However, due to his current physical ailment (or convalescence there-from), he is unable to spend enough QT in front of a computer to properly address this.Well folks, after what has been a very pleasant silence, it seems as if RR has grown tired of jerking off to old Richard Simmons' Deal-a-Meal infomercials, and has returned with yet another round of "sour grapes" commentary for our amusement. The spectacle which is RR has opted this time to thinly veil his hatred for "our kind" in the guise of "genuine concern" for the shabby and downtrodden institution of journalism (if you do, in fact, wish to call it an "institution"). RR writes:
"The Fourth Estate!" Oh my God, I can barely take it! The smug has gotten so thick in here that I'm choking! Absolutely unbelievable.For us, journalism is a sacred thing, a revered calling of a kind that is unique. It is The Fourth Estate, and its practitioners should be held to a higher standard than most who are engaged in other enterprises.For that reason we started MediaWatch seventeen years ago – to help weed out those who don’t belong – who don’t fit – the parameters we feel are paramount to the journalistic creed.In radio, which is primarily an entertainment medium, we look for those who operate with honesty and humanistic élan, and take their broadcasting to fun, sometimes lofty, levels, without being raunchy or crude.Lately, media – legitimate media – is under attack by barbarians, bloggers who think they have the credentials and calling of real journalists. They don’t have credentials and/or credibility of any kind, generally.And so this.....We don’t like philanderers. And one blogger is that. Moreover, this blogger takes material, wholesale, from other sources and presents it as if it were original with him. The deviousness is palpable to those who are astute.One blogger is obsessed with child molesters and child molesting. Psychologists understand this person’s obsession.One blogger is so vile that his blog besmirches his young daughters and wife in ways that are an embarrassment to them and to those who stumble across his perpetually obscene blog.Another blogger is so insipid and banal that she has to take material from other blogs to maintain some kind of relevancy. She has lifted material from our sites, verbatim, and pretended that she came up with the information on her own.One reporter for a weekly paper in town, not a blogger, takes material from other sources, and presents it as his own (no attribution). He has the help of a girlfriend reporter, at a paper in town, who abets his shenanigans.Leo Morris is a blogger, spending more time on his blog than working for his newspaper, The News-Sentinel. He is disreputable as far as we’re concerned, and not just because he’s a slacker of sorts.These bloggers and “reporters” take material, ours and others, and pervert it, to make points that are not salient, snarky, or redeeming in any way. They are like a burglar who enters a home, not just to pilfer, but to damage that which they can never have.So we choose to protect our MediaWatch home as best we can, from intruders and disgusting malcontents, just as we intended to protect local journalism, in our small way, from those who would misuse the journalistic calling.So now, maybe, you can understand our password requirement. We know it aggravates some of you, but we’ve only given the password to a chosen few in the media community; persons we trust and like – persons with integrity and intelligence. And we take it that our password insistence shall be okay therefore.
The day RR is a journalist, so am I. I don't believe backstabbing and berating actual journalists for masturbatory glee counts as "journalism" any more than I believe what I do here at The Record is "journalism."
On a personal note, I can only hope the following passage from the above article was aimed at me:
One blogger is so vile that his blog besmirches his young daughters and wife in ways that are an embarrassment to them and to those who stumble across his perpetually obscene blog.
Let's just assume that the ambiguous description is, in fact, about
me...I still don't give a fuck what you think, Rich.I don't know who gave you permission to take off that ball-gag that's had you so quiet for the last couple of months, but go ahead and put it back on, you pretentious dickhead.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Juan Williams: Talking Like a Conservative
Juan Williams, a senior correspondent for NPR and token black liberal analyst for Fox News has evidently lost his mind (if you use his sleeve-worn liberalism as a benchmark for sanity, that is). In a remarkably (and uncharacteristically) coherent and perceptive editorial in today's Washington Post entitled "Banish the Bling," Williams absolutey derogates the self-imposed "Rap Culture" of the inner cities so prevalent among black and hispanic youth. Granted, Juan really does try to euphemize some of the abhorrent behavior:Their search for identity and a sense of direction is undermined by a twisted popular culture that focuses on the "bling-bling" of fast money associated with famous basketball players, rap artists, drug dealers and the idea that women are at their best when flaunting their sexuality and having babies.Emphasis mine.
Ok, Juan, we get it. You could have just said "on their backs." Same meaning, more to the point. And seriously, rap "artists?" That's a stretch.
ANYWAY, so ridiculous euphemisms, aside, Williams goes on to pick an unlikely tag-team partner for this royal rumble: Bill Cosby! Yes, that's right, the "Uncle Tom"
who Black America has been spurning for years...you know, the guy who actually values "families" and "education?" Ridiculous, I know, but that's one of the things that lead me to believe that Juan has, in fact, lost his marbles. It is extraordinarily rare for a black man, or a liberal man, to ever agree with Bill Cosby, his ultra-white (read: inoffensive and non-flamboyant) lifestyle, his regular opposition to gangsta-culture bullshit, his support for learning, his respect for women and children...But for a man who is, in fact, both black AND liberal...this is truly uncharted territory. We may actually be witnessing one of the signs of the coming apocalypse.
Cosby asked the chilling question: "What good is Brown " and all the victories of the civil rights era if nobody wants them? A generation after those major civil rights victories, black America is experiencing alarming dropout rates, shocking numbers of children born to single mothers and a frightening acceptance of criminal behavior that has too many black people filling up the jails. Where is the focus on taking advantage of new opportunities to advance and to close the racial gap in educational and economic achievement?Sure, it's just Williams quoting Cosby, but I consider it to be a great start. I don't necessarily think I know what's best for inner city black kids...quite to the contrary, I don't even necessarily know what's best for me. I do, however, think it's safe to say that crack cocaine and gunplay are out of the question. I also think it might be a bad idea to sow one's seeds beyond the capabilities of one's pocketbook, motivation or awareness. I don't see how one's ego could possibly be stroked by attempting to sire as many welfare recipients as possible...but I'm just a fat white kid with a bad attitude.
Wrapping up, I just hope more in the black community can take some advice from the likes of Juan Williams (at least in theory). He makes some great points, but the sad truth is that most of the people who most need to hear his message are too busy pimpin' and bangin' and what-not to pay attention.
Fsck it, they're just out to prove Darwin even more accurate than he has been already. Word.
Post #300!!! How Appropriate That We Use it to Kick MSNBC in the Scrotum!!!
As if those of us in America lucid enough to brush our teeth every day didn't already know how fscking moronic the mainstream press is...and furthermore how far they are willing to stretch actual news to create new news:
MSNBC offers up a heaping helping of repugnant stupidity with this extra-important reporting about some scumbag fscking child molester and what he ate while he was being extradited to the U.S.
Well aren't we impressed? That's some really hard-hitting "breaking news" there, fellas.
h/t: MediaBistro.com
MSNBC offers up a heaping helping of repugnant stupidity with this extra-important reporting about some scumbag fscking child molester and what he ate while he was being extradited to the U.S.
Well aren't we impressed? That's some really hard-hitting "breaking news" there, fellas.h/t: MediaBistro.com
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Oops, I Forgot
For my family that read here regularly (and anybody else who wants a laugh), I updated the Kaduk family photoblog a couple of weeks ago, added something like 115 pictures from earlier this summer. Have fun.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Low and to the Right
Mother Nature just missed an opportunity yesterday to deep-fry Nicole Kidman's yacht. Ms. Nature's poor aim fell short of her goal and instead juiced a small sailboat moored nearby. Some photographer (who evidently has a four-leafed clover AND a rabbit's foot crammed up his arse) named Gabriel Urbinaga (somehow) caught the action on film in Rushcutters Bay, Australia.In a subsequent J4TR.com interview, Ms. Nature was quoted as saying "My aim just ain't what it once was, but I'm just warming up for some fun with Fox's Celebrity Duets, I hear Cindy Lauper will be crawling out of her cave for that!"
Mother Nature and Cindy Lauper had a heavily publicized falling out back in the mid 80's when Lauper made some very public comments about the poor timing of rain at an outdoor event.
Nature then rebutted, making some disparaging remarks about Lauper's hair, insisting the rain was intended to help.Message to Mother Nature: You know you were allowed to take two shots for that dollar, right? Shoot again (please).
h/t: Sydney Morning Herald
Leave it to the Left Coast
Evidently, California has managed to unwittingly ban most large SUV's from many of its residential throughfares. I guess there is such a thing as micromanaging so much that you no longer have control over anything. Welcome to The Land of Fruits and Nuts...where they have outlawed their own gluttonous lifestyles in an attempt to tell other people what to do!
h/t: Slate.com
h/t: Slate.com
Monday, August 14, 2006
Problems in Suburbia
I read an excellent post today from Skiver Don about his particular distaste for suburban living. He makes some very valid points about the problems with living in situations where you are crammed up the asses of others...most of which I can completely relate. I have trimmed a couple of excerpts from Don's post just to give you an idea of the lunacy that he experiences, but I must recommend you read his full write-up of the comedy...it's quite good.
He has quite an amusing tale to tell about the lesbians, but his description of the neighbors' dog Bruce is a crackup:
I know that my friend Mat has hit on this topic on many occasions, he is just as fascinated as I am about this whole subset of society...this funny, tragic little subculture. I want to know: What the hell makes us do this? Is this some sort of recessive gene that makes humans want to band together in weird little communal tribes? We share a street, the lights, back yards, fences, breathing space...I can smell my neighbors' coffee in the morning, the sad thing is, I haven't the faintest idea which neighbor! That means they can sure as hell smell my pancakes and my
morning BM...
So why? Why the hell do we do it? It's not particularly convenient, always walking on eggshells...trying not to piss off those who know where you live and sleep. It's not particularly inexpensive. For the money, a guy would be a lot better served to build in the country...at least it would afford him a little privacy! So about this (possibly) recessive gene...do you think we are just acting out what our 50,000-year-old instincts are telling us to do? You know, build a thatch hut, or a wigwam, or an igloo, or an adobe shelter or whatever, in small colonies for protection and community? Obviously we don't need to do it. Frankly, we'd be a lot happier if we didn't, if you ask me.
"Hey sweetie," my lovely wife said to me a couple of weeks ago. "The neighbors (we don't know their names) are mowing their lawn....ours looks like shit. Better go outside and get started."
H-E-L-L N-O
It was hotter than the blazes of hades. 93 Degrees Farenheit, humid as a spit bath from a Saint Bernard. Did that matter? Not a lick. My wife was insistant: mow now, our lawn looks shaggy.
So naturally, being in full "lounge mode" on the couch for what seemed like the first time in months, I looked at her blankly and replied "Who fscking cares?"
And here's the truth of it: I really don't give a shit about how shaggy my grass is compared to the neatly manicured obsessive behavior that is stuck to the ground of my neighbors' homes. Here it was, hotter than hell and these weirdos are out scalping their dead grass (the whole neighborhood was brown, except my little patch of scrubby brush and crab grass). I let mine go for over two weeks because I knew if I cut it, mine would crisp up and turn a tan shade of poo just like theirs. My wife was fine with this, I was not. I didn't want the kids getting road rash from falling in the yard. If I was cool with that, I'd just pave the yard in green concrete. No more mowing. Here's my theory: Another recessive gene! This one drive us to hunt, gather, farm etc...
Now I'm just rambling, but I don't get it at all. My wife grew up on 9 wooded acres in the country, I in subdivisions. Now, she's the one that wants to play beige-vinyl goddess, and I am flying both middle fingers at full mast walking to the street to get the mail in only my boxer shorts at 1 o'clock in the afternoon...laughing at all of the uptight jackasses that surround me. Sometimes I just want to sit at the end of my driveway (where my kingdom ends and the "community" begins) in those boxer shorts. I would like to take my toaster with me! I would pull an extension cord to the toaster and sit there at the farthest reach of my little kingdom, in my boxer shorts, making blueberry toaster waffles and launching my son's soiled diapers onto the hoods of passing cars...I would show them. All in an attempt to break myself of what obviously is a genetic predisposition to being a suburbanite. If you happen to see me doing this, you have my full permission to zap me with a tazer or mace me or whatever. That will mean that I am in need of therapy, medication or both.
No real point, I guess, just some musing.
My next-door neighbors on the right side are a pair of 90-something-year-old women. My wife and I affectionately call them "the old lesbians." [Disclaimer: I have nothing at all against lesbians. We call them "the old lesbians" because they ARE old lesbians, and have lived together in their house since the late '50s.]
He has quite an amusing tale to tell about the lesbians, but his description of the neighbors' dog Bruce is a crackup:Forget about having a barbecue in our back yard. Unless you're deaf, it's pointless. So is playing catch with the kids, or simply sitting outside and reading a book. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. Like clockwork.And furthermore, his other neighbor (Sal) who despises Bruce:
Sal wound back and punched Bruce right in the teeth through the fence, yelling at the top of his lungs to shut the $%^&* up, you piece of ^&*)(#.Anyway, it's a great story, and it brings up some interesting points about the way we live...we in the vast tracts of beige-washed vinyl and cute little pushable lawnmowers with the little nylon hoppers in tow, to catch our grass clippings.
I know that my friend Mat has hit on this topic on many occasions, he is just as fascinated as I am about this whole subset of society...this funny, tragic little subculture. I want to know: What the hell makes us do this? Is this some sort of recessive gene that makes humans want to band together in weird little communal tribes? We share a street, the lights, back yards, fences, breathing space...I can smell my neighbors' coffee in the morning, the sad thing is, I haven't the faintest idea which neighbor! That means they can sure as hell smell my pancakes and my
morning BM...So why? Why the hell do we do it? It's not particularly convenient, always walking on eggshells...trying not to piss off those who know where you live and sleep. It's not particularly inexpensive. For the money, a guy would be a lot better served to build in the country...at least it would afford him a little privacy! So about this (possibly) recessive gene...do you think we are just acting out what our 50,000-year-old instincts are telling us to do? You know, build a thatch hut, or a wigwam, or an igloo, or an adobe shelter or whatever, in small colonies for protection and community? Obviously we don't need to do it. Frankly, we'd be a lot happier if we didn't, if you ask me.
"Hey sweetie," my lovely wife said to me a couple of weeks ago. "The neighbors (we don't know their names) are mowing their lawn....ours looks like shit. Better go outside and get started."
H-E-L-L N-O
It was hotter than the blazes of hades. 93 Degrees Farenheit, humid as a spit bath from a Saint Bernard. Did that matter? Not a lick. My wife was insistant: mow now, our lawn looks shaggy.
So naturally, being in full "lounge mode" on the couch for what seemed like the first time in months, I looked at her blankly and replied "Who fscking cares?"
And here's the truth of it: I really don't give a shit about how shaggy my grass is compared to the neatly manicured obsessive behavior that is stuck to the ground of my neighbors' homes. Here it was, hotter than hell and these weirdos are out scalping their dead grass (the whole neighborhood was brown, except my little patch of scrubby brush and crab grass). I let mine go for over two weeks because I knew if I cut it, mine would crisp up and turn a tan shade of poo just like theirs. My wife was fine with this, I was not. I didn't want the kids getting road rash from falling in the yard. If I was cool with that, I'd just pave the yard in green concrete. No more mowing. Here's my theory: Another recessive gene! This one drive us to hunt, gather, farm etc...
Now I'm just rambling, but I don't get it at all. My wife grew up on 9 wooded acres in the country, I in subdivisions. Now, she's the one that wants to play beige-vinyl goddess, and I am flying both middle fingers at full mast walking to the street to get the mail in only my boxer shorts at 1 o'clock in the afternoon...laughing at all of the uptight jackasses that surround me. Sometimes I just want to sit at the end of my driveway (where my kingdom ends and the "community" begins) in those boxer shorts. I would like to take my toaster with me! I would pull an extension cord to the toaster and sit there at the farthest reach of my little kingdom, in my boxer shorts, making blueberry toaster waffles and launching my son's soiled diapers onto the hoods of passing cars...I would show them. All in an attempt to break myself of what obviously is a genetic predisposition to being a suburbanite. If you happen to see me doing this, you have my full permission to zap me with a tazer or mace me or whatever. That will mean that I am in need of therapy, medication or both.No real point, I guess, just some musing.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The Rest of The Story
In light of the recent events surrounding the sacking of Adnan Hajj by Reuters for some flagrant journalistic faux pas, we at www.j4tr.com have opted (in the interest of full disclosure) to help shed some light on a few suspect photographs, and maybe explain what was really going on.
OK, now here's what you didn't see, thanks to all of that added smoke!
Then, we heard stories of some doctored diversionary flares made to look like missles in this photo:
But, what you are missing is what the flares were intended to divert....
Isn't it amazing how interesting and appaling the news can be when we invent it?
UPDATE: It's been brought to our attention that Adnan Hajj is now working for a food and beverage journal.
First, we've all seen the following doctored photograph of the smoke clouds in Beiruit:
OK, now here's what you didn't see, thanks to all of that added smoke!
Then, we heard stories of some doctored diversionary flares made to look like missles in this photo:
But, what you are missing is what the flares were intended to divert....
Isn't it amazing how interesting and appaling the news can be when we invent it?
UPDATE: It's been brought to our attention that Adnan Hajj is now working for a food and beverage journal.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
In Porn We Trust
I caught an episode of 30 Days tonight that was pretty entertaining. In the now famous Morgan Spurlock style (dump corrosive ingredients together in a bowl and run like hell), a mousy atheist woman from Kansas was sent to live for a month in the Texas home of a dumbfounded Christian fundamentalist guy and his family. Overall, it was an unimpressive episode of 30 Days for the most part, but there was one particular scene that I found interesting, and thought provoking to boot.
The atheist woman was being introduced to non-denominational contemporary Christian worship by her "host family" with regularity and vigor. She felt as if they didn't understand atheism as she presented it, so she took them to a meeting of local atheists at a coffee shop. The Christian was obviously confused about the concept of people that literally don't believe in the supernatural, so he was lost from the word "Go." One of the atheist men was explaining why they feel that the U.S. Constitution has basically been shit upon with the introduction of religious symbolism within government institutions. He mentioned money, in particular.
A light came on in my head.
What a horrible, horrible idea. SOOOOOO, I've come up with a new one. Since not all Americans believe in a supreme creator (about 5% of Americans don't), perhaps we can unify behind something we all believe in? Not a single American citizen can or will deny the existence of pornography. Hell, we as a society spent over $4 BILLION dollars on porn movies last year alone. This doesn't include internet pornography, strip clubs or La Femme tickets (which, by the way, is a SMOKIN cabaret show...don't let anybody tell you it's not).
The atheist woman was being introduced to non-denominational contemporary Christian worship by her "host family" with regularity and vigor. She felt as if they didn't understand atheism as she presented it, so she took them to a meeting of local atheists at a coffee shop. The Christian was obviously confused about the concept of people that literally don't believe in the supernatural, so he was lost from the word "Go." One of the atheist men was explaining why they feel that the U.S. Constitution has basically been shit upon with the introduction of religious symbolism within government institutions. He mentioned money, in particular."How would you like it," the atheist asked the vacant looking Christian man "if the Government started printing money that was embossed with the phrase There is no God? Wouldn't you feel as if the Government was overstepping its boundaries by making you carry around something in your pocket that was MY belief and not YOURS?"
A light came on in my head.
The Christian man replied "In God We Trust is on our money. If you don't like it, move someplace else."What a horrible attitude. The question was repeated at least 7 times, the man kept replying with the same "git the hell outta here if you don't like it" response. Suddenly I realized what an absurd argument that our fine Government sparked off in 1956 when they chose this unifying phrase to rally U.S. citizens against the Communists during the cold war (at the time, Soviet law doctrine recognized only atheism).
What a horrible, horrible idea. SOOOOOO, I've come up with a new one. Since not all Americans believe in a supreme creator (about 5% of Americans don't), perhaps we can unify behind something we all believe in? Not a single American citizen can or will deny the existence of pornography. Hell, we as a society spent over $4 BILLION dollars on porn movies last year alone. This doesn't include internet pornography, strip clubs or La Femme tickets (which, by the way, is a SMOKIN cabaret show...don't let anybody tell you it's not).
So, how about this for a new slogan on our cash?
OK, OK, I know that's not gonna fly, but here's an idea...it was tried before, and it worked just fine for a very, very long time:
It means: "From many, one"
It means: "From many, one"It just makes sense. We take a massive, time-consuming issue out of the public discourse once and for all, and at the same time, try to get our country back into the shape in which it belongs: one unified nation of many individuals.
More Glorious Captain Kirk Blogging
I hadn't heard this song in a couple of years...until today on WISU in Terre Haute. I had fogotten what sweet lyrics it had.Stardate, two, zero, zero, four (long pause)...we have beamed down, to, a, bizarre, wonderful new place, where, goofy, Canadian, over-actors, get to publish albums....with looney lyrics, and, somehow....still...in some strange way.....RAWK.
WILLIAM SHATNER
Common People
(featuring Joe Jackson)
She came from Greece. She had a thirst for knowledge.
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College.
That's where I--caught her eye.
She told me that her dad was loaded.
I said, in that case I'll have a rum and Coca-Cola.
She said fine, and in thirty seconds time she said...
I wanna live like common people.
I wanna do whatever common people do.
I wanna sleep with common people.
I wanna sleep with common people like you.
Well, what else could I do? I said, I'll see what I can do!
I took her to a supermarket.
I don't know why, but I had to start it somewhere.
So it started there!
I said, pretend you've got no money.
She just laughed and said, oh, you're so funny!
I said, yeah? Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here!
Are you sure you want to live like common people?
You want to see whatever common people see?
You want to sleep with common people?
You want to sleep with common people like me?
But she didn't understand...
...she just smiled and held my hands!
Rent a flat above a shop!
Cut your hair and get a job!
Smoke some fags and play some pool.
Pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right.
When you're lyin' in bed at night,
Watching roaches climb the wall.
If you call your dad he could stop it all.
You'll never live like common people!
You'll never do whatever common people do!
You'll never fail like common people!
You'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance, and drink, and screw!
Because there's nothing else to do!
Common People
(featuring Joe Jackson)
She came from Greece. She had a thirst for knowledge.
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College.
That's where I--caught her eye.
She told me that her dad was loaded.
I said, in that case I'll have a rum and Coca-Cola.
She said fine, and in thirty seconds time she said...
I wanna live like common people.
I wanna do whatever common people do.
I wanna sleep with common people.
I wanna sleep with common people like you.
Well, what else could I do? I said, I'll see what I can do!
I took her to a supermarket.
I don't know why, but I had to start it somewhere.
So it started there!
I said, pretend you've got no money.
She just laughed and said, oh, you're so funny!
I said, yeah? Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here!
Are you sure you want to live like common people?
You want to see whatever common people see?
You want to sleep with common people?
You want to sleep with common people like me?
But she didn't understand...
...she just smiled and held my hands!
Rent a flat above a shop!
Cut your hair and get a job!
Smoke some fags and play some pool.
Pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right.
When you're lyin' in bed at night,
Watching roaches climb the wall.
If you call your dad he could stop it all.
You'll never live like common people!
You'll never do whatever common people do!
You'll never fail like common people!
You'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance, and drink, and screw!
Because there's nothing else to do!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Good for you Joe!
I just watched Joe Liebermans' concession speech to Lamont, and he was quick to announce his candidacy as an independent for his Senate seat. Very gracious, he's a class act. It's going to be interesting to see how this all shakes out.
Then I switched to c-span and and caught Lamonts acceptance speech and the most notable thing I saw was behind him on both sides...... Sharpton & Jackson. All he was missing was Sheehan and Mckinney...........
This should really help drive a wedge in the dems 'cause this guy ain't got a clue.
Then I switched to c-span and and caught Lamonts acceptance speech and the most notable thing I saw was behind him on both sides...... Sharpton & Jackson. All he was missing was Sheehan and Mckinney...........
This should really help drive a wedge in the dems 'cause this guy ain't got a clue.
Monday, August 07, 2006
The World is at Peace, Finally.
You know, this does kinda make sense, given the evidence.
The Futurist: "we are actually living in the most peaceful time ever in human history."
Prove him wrong...c'mon, you can do it (ok, no you can't).
I want everyone to pay careful attention to the comments section after his article. The first comment? Some moron who immediately fires off some predictable BushCo hatred to amuse the unwavering legions of doomsdayers...despite the content of the article.
I want everyone to pay careful attention to the comments section after his article. The first comment? Some moron who immediately fires off some predictable BushCo hatred to amuse the unwavering legions of doomsdayers...despite the content of the article.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Local Food Blogging
Being under the weather today has allowed me to gather my thoughts to some extent on how I would like to organize my restaurant reviews. Here are some of the criteria by which I will be assessing the local chum buckets:
First off, I'll cover all of the applicable W's. I will link maps, websites, menus and even other reviews if available. I will make recommendations on kid-frendliness, date-night picks, atmospheric analysis and probably other miscellaneous observations (those are really my forte).
Moving Forward! The first official J4TR.com restaurant review!
The Big Eyed Fish Bar & Grill
1502 N.Wells St.
Fort Wayne , IN
260.420.3474
map & directions
Let's just start with the bare-bones basics: I'd never heard of this place until 5 minutes before we were in the parking lot. You see, my family does this thing where we get in the car, start driving and try to find a place to eat we haven't yet patronized (which is rather difficult, as my lovely wife and I both come from families who actively "dine out"). Sometimes, we use the regional Entertainment Book to assist, because if we can find a "free entree" coupon, we're much more likely to spend our money in an unfamiliar place.
The Big Eyed Fish was rewarded for their participation in the Entertainment Book tonight by four new customers, coupon in hand. I'll be perfectly honest, I expected from the outside of the restaurant and the signage to be walking into a coastal-Florida eatery with the salty fish market-like appeal, maybe a lobster tank, maybe the front half of a Spanish galleon or at least a couple of antique fishing poles. Alas, it was really not quite that, exactly. It was a bar. It was
rather warm, poorly lit, uncomfortably arranged (the tables were literally butted together in places). There were no fishing poles, no aquariums, no reggae, no parrots or pirates. There were some scaled-down racecar hoods with beer logos on them. NASCAR really seemed to be more the theme of the place than anything else (not that there's anything wrong with that, its just not what I expected, nor really what I wanted). The other thematic element that prevailed was beer. Cheap, American beer. I think most of the decor was freebie stuff that the local liquor distributors give away (lots of stamped Coors signs and so forth).
However, the place was packed! We actually had to wait a couple of minutes for a table. From first contact the service staff was excellent. Everyone with whom we came into contact was friendly, courteous and genuinely helpful. This exemplary service never wavered throughout the visit, so I will not re-visit the wait staff in this review. Suffice to say, they were swell.
The menu was arranged nicely and not too outrageously varied (there were no caviar and french fry platters). I can, however, easily say that just about anybody could have found something to munch on. The prices seemed reasonable too, with the most expensive dinners weighing in at less than ten bucks.
Beverages
We started by ordering drinks. A pitcher of Blue Moon ($9--not too bad) for my lovely wife and I, milk for Axl, OJ for Whitney. The Blue Moon was served with the complimentary orange wedges on each glass (not always a gimme, but it should be). Considering the overwhelming temperature in the dining room (it was pretty damn hot), I would have liked the pilsner glasses to have spent some Q.T. in the freezer prior to table service.
A Snack
Just a basic basket of tortilla chips with salsa and hot liquid cheese. Nothing fancy, but then I didn't expect them to be.
Dinner is Served
Axl opted for the kids' chicken strip basket with applesauce, Whitney favored the hot dog platter with fries. They had a variety of choices for kids, including a fish dinner. My lovely wife picked a butterfly shrimp dinner with hush puppies and a side salad, I went for the fish dinner. Tell you what, anything I found disagreeable about the establishment itself was put directly to bed by the fish. Good lord that stuff was good. Hand battered with secret spices, cooked to crispy perfection...hell yeah. I stole a hush puppy from my lovely wife, it was superb. She wolfed down most of her shrimp, but she started filling up before she finished the job (portions were adequate, if not substantial). Whitney (the pickiest eater I've ever known) even liked the bite of fish I gave her...that says a lot.
The Damages
Four meals, one shared appetizer, a pitcher of beer and two kids drinks...brought our total to a whopping $35, only $27 with our free entree coupon.
The Skinny
Atmosphere: D+
Dining Room: D+
Kid Friendliness: B
Drinks: B+
Food: A-
Service: A
Price: A+
Date Night: NO
Final Grade: B
Read another review for this restaurant written by Colleen Hamilton from the Fort Wayne Reader
First off, I'll cover all of the applicable W's. I will link maps, websites, menus and even other reviews if available. I will make recommendations on kid-frendliness, date-night picks, atmospheric analysis and probably other miscellaneous observations (those are really my forte).
Moving Forward! The first official J4TR.com restaurant review!
The Big Eyed Fish Bar & Grill
1502 N.Wells St.
Fort Wayne , IN
260.420.3474
map & directions
Let's just start with the bare-bones basics: I'd never heard of this place until 5 minutes before we were in the parking lot. You see, my family does this thing where we get in the car, start driving and try to find a place to eat we haven't yet patronized (which is rather difficult, as my lovely wife and I both come from families who actively "dine out"). Sometimes, we use the regional Entertainment Book to assist, because if we can find a "free entree" coupon, we're much more likely to spend our money in an unfamiliar place.
The Big Eyed Fish was rewarded for their participation in the Entertainment Book tonight by four new customers, coupon in hand. I'll be perfectly honest, I expected from the outside of the restaurant and the signage to be walking into a coastal-Florida eatery with the salty fish market-like appeal, maybe a lobster tank, maybe the front half of a Spanish galleon or at least a couple of antique fishing poles. Alas, it was really not quite that, exactly. It was a bar. It was
rather warm, poorly lit, uncomfortably arranged (the tables were literally butted together in places). There were no fishing poles, no aquariums, no reggae, no parrots or pirates. There were some scaled-down racecar hoods with beer logos on them. NASCAR really seemed to be more the theme of the place than anything else (not that there's anything wrong with that, its just not what I expected, nor really what I wanted). The other thematic element that prevailed was beer. Cheap, American beer. I think most of the decor was freebie stuff that the local liquor distributors give away (lots of stamped Coors signs and so forth).However, the place was packed! We actually had to wait a couple of minutes for a table. From first contact the service staff was excellent. Everyone with whom we came into contact was friendly, courteous and genuinely helpful. This exemplary service never wavered throughout the visit, so I will not re-visit the wait staff in this review. Suffice to say, they were swell.
The menu was arranged nicely and not too outrageously varied (there were no caviar and french fry platters). I can, however, easily say that just about anybody could have found something to munch on. The prices seemed reasonable too, with the most expensive dinners weighing in at less than ten bucks.
Beverages
We started by ordering drinks. A pitcher of Blue Moon ($9--not too bad) for my lovely wife and I, milk for Axl, OJ for Whitney. The Blue Moon was served with the complimentary orange wedges on each glass (not always a gimme, but it should be). Considering the overwhelming temperature in the dining room (it was pretty damn hot), I would have liked the pilsner glasses to have spent some Q.T. in the freezer prior to table service.
A Snack
Just a basic basket of tortilla chips with salsa and hot liquid cheese. Nothing fancy, but then I didn't expect them to be.
Dinner is Served
Axl opted for the kids' chicken strip basket with applesauce, Whitney favored the hot dog platter with fries. They had a variety of choices for kids, including a fish dinner. My lovely wife picked a butterfly shrimp dinner with hush puppies and a side salad, I went for the fish dinner. Tell you what, anything I found disagreeable about the establishment itself was put directly to bed by the fish. Good lord that stuff was good. Hand battered with secret spices, cooked to crispy perfection...hell yeah. I stole a hush puppy from my lovely wife, it was superb. She wolfed down most of her shrimp, but she started filling up before she finished the job (portions were adequate, if not substantial). Whitney (the pickiest eater I've ever known) even liked the bite of fish I gave her...that says a lot.
The Damages
Four meals, one shared appetizer, a pitcher of beer and two kids drinks...brought our total to a whopping $35, only $27 with our free entree coupon.
The Skinny
Atmosphere: D+
Dining Room: D+
Kid Friendliness: B
Drinks: B+
Food: A-
Service: A
Price: A+
Date Night: NO
Final Grade: B
Read another review for this restaurant written by Colleen Hamilton from the Fort Wayne Reader
More Amazing Half-Assed Reporting From the Journal Gazette
You'll have to excuse my odd interest in this, but I've followed it closely for over a year. You see, my crazy friend Kevin got burned alive last year in his family's magnesium foundry here in Fort Wayne. He spent almost a year in the hospital getting new skin on 95% of his body. Nobody was allowed in to see him, for the sake of infection prevention (I guess the immune system is somewhat challenged when you only have 5% of your skin to fend off attacking microbes).Anyway, fast forward to Tuesday of this week. National Mag caught fire again, and this time exploded right before the cameras of a local news crew. So naturally, as not to be left out of this remarkable story, the Journal Gazette has written 7 articles about the local racing-parts manufacturer. With these stories have been many pictures of the foundry, the blaze, firefighters and onlookers. My gripe today is with the photos of onlookers, and the half-assed stories that accompany them.
From the first article the JG wrote about Tuesday's fire, here is a picture of some fire fighters and Kevin McNabb. Kevin's the one with Gauze wrapped around all of his extremities. The article had this to say about Kevin's accident last year:
"Another of those injured, Kevin McNabb, the son of the company’s owners, spent almost a year in rehabilitation with severe burns over a majority of his body."However, when the caption for the above picture was written, here is all they could manage:
"A burn victim from the fire of April 2005 at the same plant watches from the sidelines with firefighters at the National Magnesium and Aluminum Foundry."Impressive reporting, eh? They tell you all about Kevin's long ordeal with some staggering burns, and then can't identify him in a picture that THEY took this week. Typical.
On to the next article from those aces over at JG:The photo seen to the left here was published the day following the last article. Not much new information is added, including the identity of the "mystery burn victim," (clearly Kevin McNabb, obvious to anyone who either a) saw the other picture or b) has ever spoken with the man) from the same photo array as the former picture....possibly taken within 5 seconds of the last one.
Kevin McNabb, son of company owners Robert and Nancy McNabb, was one of the injured employees. He attempted to put dry chemicals on the flames after the combustion, but soon half the room was engulfed.
McNabb was taken to St. Joseph Hospital in critical condition and remained there until this March after suffering burns to 95 percent of his body. He left after more than 30 surgeries and several brushes with death. He still faces months of rehabilitation and will most likely need some reconstructive surgery in the future, doctors said at the time of his release.
One of the workers injured in the 2005 fire was at the scene Tuesday night, Banta said. His legs and one arm were wrapped in gauze still. The unidentified man continues his rehabilitation work, she said.
Emphasis mine.
Now, any dimwit who looks at the picture can plainly see that Kevin has all four (not three) of his extremities wrapped in gauze, or maybe its not him...it might be the OTHER catastrophic burn victim from last year's fire...(there wasn't anyone else burned that badly other than a since-deceased man). Also, unidentified??? How do you figure? In both stories Amanda Iacone goes on and on about the plight of Kevin McNabb, and then fails to identify him by her own description? That's some crack reporting.Kinda takes me back to the whole "Mesolite" debacle.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
As The Old Saying Goes
After reading the many comments put forth by Masters Turkett and Skinner
one can only conclude that Mr. Skinner
would have a difficult time identifying
the two items pictured here.
R&F: Attacking Windmills
I wondered how long Dan could keep his mouth shut about the contrived and paranoid BS emanating from Craig Skinner on the topic of the local GOP website. I guess we have our answer. It's really been funny listening to Craig yammer on and on about "Dan making money off the party" and what a crooked arrangement he thought it to be. It's just plain laughable, considering the whole arrangement has ALWAYS been above board for all to see, but watching Dan patiently bait the lad for the last month has been funny in its own right. I especially like Craig's little post "Investigative Report" where he "exposes the truth." That's some deep stuff, Craig. False, but deep and entertaining...but hey, conspiracy theories go a long way with Democrats 'round these parts. Keep it up, you could start your own religion someday!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Congress Gets Wedgie From E.U. Leaders
OK, so the brainless conglomerate known as the U.S. Congress has decided that the most important thing we need to do with respect to the current skirmish in theocrappolic region of Israelebanonistan is get the limp wristed femmembers of the E.U. to basically join with them in one unified and unwavering voice to label Hezblahblah as a unanimously identified terrorist organization.From United Press International:
EU won't label Hezbollah 'terrorist' group
BRUSSELS, Aug. 2 (UPI) -- In a rebuff to Washington, the European Union will not add the Islamist Hezbollah movement to its list of terrorist organizations, the EU president says.
"Given the sensitive situation where we are, I don't think this is something we will be acting on now," said Finland Foreign Minister Erkki Tuomioja, who is also the EU president.
The decision came in response to a letter signed by 213 members of the U.S. Congress demanding the intergovernmental organization join the United States in branding Hezbollah as a terrorist organization.
Washington had no immediate response.
The 25-member EU could take up the discussion again after Israel and Hezbollah
reach a peace deal, Tuomioja said.
"Everybody in Lebanon should be a party" to reaching a peace deal, he said, suggesting that calling Hezbollah a terrorist organization could risk alienating the Shiite organization and political party, London's Observer reported.
Six countries have designated part or all of Hezbollah as a terrorist organization, a label vehemently disputed by other countries.
Nuts to them, I say. Lets just get a few things out in the open here:
1. The Congress has no business getting involved in European policy authoring. Period. Europe can handle themselves in these matters, and if they can't, well, screw 'em.
3. How can these 213 Congressfolks possibly think that the best way to broker a cease-fire and steer this insane region toward peace is to play games with semantics? I think its pretty well understood (even by most Lebanese) that Hezblahblah is a terrorist organization, why exactly does it take a UN resolution and shitloads of bureaucratic horse-hockey to establish what is already a known quantity? FAWK. Ain't government grand?
I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this mind-numbing display of masturbatory legislative dumbfuckery. Just the fact that someone took the time to collect 213 signatures from people who are on the public take to the tune of $160k per year makes me want to choke somebody. If each of these assholes spent a mere 10 minutes reading this piece of shit before signing it, it cost the American People $2769 right off the top. I'm sure this was more than a 10 minute process, and I'm sure it involved more money than just the salaries of the douchebags who were actually doing the signing, so do the math, it gets ugly....and even uglier based on the fact that their efforts did nothing more than lead to a humbling embarrassment.
Good for the leaders of the E.U. I wish [the United States citizens] had as much control of our Congressfolks as they appear to. It's nice to see that somebody can tell our Congresspunks where to stuff it.
"So what," you may ask, "do we need to do, if not labeling Hezblahblah as a terrorist organization?"
I thought you'd never ask! Ahem....let me be perfectly clear here:
WE DO NOTHING. WE STAY THE FUCK OUT OF IT. Israel has this under control, and if not, we've got space enough in Utah for some Hebrews. They'll be a nice counterpoint to what we've got going on out there already.
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