I think this image tweeted by Scott Bixby yesterday really sums up the differences between the US and Canada.
For the first time in more than a month, Syracuse actually found a football team worse than they are – and we thank the kind folks in Winston-Salem North Carolina and Wake Forest University for the much needed ass-kicking they allowed us to give them yesterday. I don’t bring this up to rehash a sports event that I know nobody really cares about, but rather to mention how much I miss the olden days.
The hospital for which I work has been declared as one of eight official Ebola centers in NY by Governor Snotball (my boss passed along a memo from our head of Emergency Preparedness, who I know is qualified because he’s got an MBA). I’m fairly certain this distinction comes without a budget, but I’m pleased nonetheless because it’s very important. As we all know, Ebola is easier to get than mono at a frat party, and we’re all pretty much gonna die horrible deaths from this “outbreak.” Right now, hundreds of thousands of Ebola Zombies (mostly from Kenya and Mexico, but probably a few Canadians, too) are staggering across our borders at this very moment, looking to infect us normal (and by normal, I mean “white”) folks. Thanks, Obama.
I caught about 15 minutes worth of a documentary about the Cowsills this morning. If you’re my age or older, then you know who they were and if you’re much younger than that (like Google Chrome spellchecker, apparently), then you don’t. I’d say they to the Partridge Family as the Beatles were to the Monkees, except you probably wouldn’t know who the hell the Partridge Family was either (plus however they came into being, the Monkees actually had some good stuff, whereas the Partridge Family, not so much).
It was on this date back in 1978 that Jimmy Carter signed H.R. 1337, amending the Internal Revenue Code of 1954 with respect to excise tax on (among other things) home production of beer and wine, thereby making home brewing legal. For that, and because I never actually got drafted, I forgive him for reinstating military draft registration two years later (starting with males born in the year 1960 – making me one of the first to be forced to go down to the post office and register since the draft was abolished in 1974). I really should celebrate by digging out (and cleaning) all my homebrew equipment that has languished in my basement since moving four years ago. But I need to do kegs, ‘cuz I aint messing with any more bottles.
Happy Columbus Day! There are those that turn their noses up at today being a holiday, but I say fuck ‘em. A day off’s a day off. Hell, if they wanna give me a day off for Hitler’s birthday, I’ll take that, too (though it wouldn’t be Nazi paraphernalia I’d be celebrating 4/20 with). It’s definitely a good time for a three-day weekend, and I’ve even been slightly productive.
About a year ago, I got a notice from the Town to renew the dog license for Siggy, who (as some of you may recall) unfortunately died back in 2012. So I checked the box for “deceased” and mailed it back in, only to get a second notice a few weeks later. This time, I called the Town Clerk’s office (they’re always very nice) and told them that I had sent the first notice back and that Siggy was no longer with us. You’d have thought that would be that, but no.
I’m sure Governor Snotball is proud of his “B” rating by the rightwing Cato Institue “think tank,” though I have to wonder what his poor dad thinks (Mario must feel even worse about his evil spawn than Mike Wallace had to have felt about his fux-boy Chris).
Now that fall is here and election day is approaching, it’s time for our incumbent NYS government officials to play, “buy me some votes.” Oh, there’s the usual pork offerings of course, but this year (and for the next three years, I believe) there’s a little something special for some NYers. And it’s kind of a two-fold thing. First, if you have kids 17 and under (and make between $40,000 and $300,000 a year), you’re gonna get a check for $350. Because those of us without kids aren’t getting screwed quite enough. And because if you make less than $40K and have kids, well, fuck you too I guess. OK, that takes care of people who have voluntarily (assuming they don’t work for Hobby Lobby, of course) decided to inflict themselves (and the rest of us) with children. But wait, isn’t there another group of victims we can help out?
always occasionally wonder ed why they refer to going from not drinking to drinking as “going off the wagon.” Seems to me more like you’re getting back on the wagon when you start pounding ‘em down again. I guess maybe it’s ‘cuz you have to get off your horse and get into the wagon or something (this guy says it comes from the early 20th Century when they used to have a water wagon go around and wet the streets to keep the dust down, implying that if you were “on the water wagon” then you were abstaining from alcohol, though Snopes poo-poos that claim, and says it’s more likely a variant of “on the bandwagon” – as in on the temperance bandwagon).