After a long, long week, it’s finally (and suddenly) Friday. One of the great enigmas in life is how each day (non weekend day, anyway) can be so unbearably long, yet the days, weeks, months, and years fly by in what seems like an instant (once they’re over). Must be something to do with the extreme time compression that occurs whenever I leave the stasis field known as “work.” If I’m ever exposed to some fast-acting, flesh-eating virus or something, all I’ll need to do is go to my office and sit at my desk while they work on a cure. That’s why so many people croak right after they retire; as soon as you leave the work time bubble you experience massive temporal acceleration and begin aging at a 67% faster rate (retired teachers are exempt from this particular phenomenon).

I keep getting these e-mails from Democrats.com with the subject of “Clarence Thomas is not above the law.” Uh, yeah he is. Have you not been paying attention the past 20 or whatever years? Rumsfeld, Cheney, Bush, Scalia, Bybee, Yoo – all these people are above the law, and Thomas is least of them (in more ways than one). He’s just your basic token pizza delivery dude, but he still gets to be above the law. It’s his reward for playing along.

Did you know there’s an international agreement on how to compute “average” snowfall? Of course not – why would you? Turns out there is, though, and the agreement is to use 30 years of data from the three most recent previously completed decades. And don’t start arguing about what constitutes a “decade” either.

Anyhow, turns out that means the “average” snowfall for Syracuse just got revised up. From 1971-2000 (yeah, I agree, it should be 1970-1999 for reasons I’ve mentioned before, but we agreed not to argue), the average was 121.1″, but now we’re going with the 1981-2010 number: 123.8″. Suck on that, Buffalo, with your paltry 94.7″ (down from 97″). In fact, none of the other NYS Golden Snowball competitors even crack 100″ (Rochester comes in a distant 2nd at 99.5″). Of course, out here in the boonies where I live, you can probably tack on another couple of feet, at least.

Who cares? Well, nobody, really. But when you’re facing six months of dark, cold winter, you either embrace it or go nuts. Or – my personal preference – both. And winter is actually beautiful when you get a chance to get out there and enjoy it. It’s the struggling to get back and forth to work that gets tedious.

Syracuse Beer Week starts this weekend. There are some 100 events scheduled, and I’ll be attending none of them (though I’m looking forward to a private celebration when I get home from work tonight). I just don’t understand how one can enjoy beer when one has to drive back home. There are those who can have a beer or two and be satisfied, I guess, but I’ve never been one of them.

Last week, I thought I saw that one of Bill Maher’s guests this week will be Darrell Issa. I hope he cancelled or something, because otherwise it’ll be tough to watch. As you know, I’m not one to be disparaging (if you can’t say something nice about somebody, don’t say anything at all is my motto), and I’m not one to talk, but, to put it politely, I find Issa to be a disingenuous, lying (is that redundant?) piece of shit. I’d say he lies through his teeth, but I think that’s a set of fake choppers he’s got in there. God know that looks like Kiwi® Parade Gloss Black he rubs on his head.

This may be one of those shows I have to “watch” from the other room to avoid damaging the teevee.

I also have some sort of family obligation this weekend. I’d mostly prefer to hang out and get stuff done around the house (or put in some seat time on the tractor), but that’s what family is all about, I guess. Doing things you don’t really want to, be feel you must.

Speaking of which, one more day to get through.

In an effort to find some sort of motivation to actually go and vote next week (it will take a substantial effort, as I have to overcome both apathy and the anxiety of walking into and finding my way around a new polling place I’m not familiar with; I hate being a newbie), I was perusing the candidates for office where I live. It was rather depressing (though unsurprising) to see that many people are running unopposed. But then I got excited to see that one woman was running for town councillor (or something) on the Communist Party line! Well, shit, if I can help put a commie in office, that’s motivation enough for me. Sadly, upon further review, it turned out she was on the “Community Party” line. Oh, lysdexia, how can you be so cruel?

Some good news, though. One of the questions they put to candidates running for a judgeship was “would you preside over a gay marriage ceremony if asked?” There wasn’t one candidate who said, “no.” Most said the law’s the law, and they weren’t about to pick and choose the ones they’d follow. A couple of them said they were looking forward to it – and that marrying people was a lot more fun than putting them in prison (one might argue that that’s a rather fuzzy distinction). And a few “conservatives” said the law didn’t require them to perform any marriages, and, since they had better shit to do on weekends, they weren’t gonna perform marriages of any kind – gay, straight, or, um, whatever alternatives there are to gay and straight. I took these to be weasel words, so they won’t get my vote. If I vote. Still undecided on the whole thing.

I seem to have developed a new foot-related malady (who knew the feet would be the first to go – assuming you don’t count the knees, shoulders, and back). For the past couple of days, I’ve had a sore toe on my left foot. The “index” toe – if there is such a thing. Which makes wonder why they call your index finger the index finger. Is it the one they use when they index you? Or is it because it’s the one you use when you “thumb through” the index of a book? Which of course makes you wonder why they say “thumb through” a book. I don’t know about you, but I don’t use my thumb. Seems like using your thumb to turn pages would be kind of awkward. Except maybe to grab a stack of pages and use your thumb to regulate the “flow” rate. Like, say, using a flip book.

But anyway, the damn toe is sore for no apparent reason, but now the achilles tendon on my right foot hurts like hell. Again, no apparent reason for that. So I’m kind of walking around like Mr. Tudball.

Ah, the Golden Years. Gotta love ’em.

I now feel camaraderie with Herman Cain. Yes, it’s true: my wife comes up to my chin, too. Also, I like pizza (though it’s been quite some time since I’ve had a slice – wink, wink, nudge, nudge). As if that weren’t coincidence enough, Herman is the brother who ran Godfather Pizza, and my brother is my godfather. Pretty eerie, eh?

In other Cain awesomeness, Herm has broken the story on the Chinese nuclear program. Turns out they have aspirations of developing nuclear capability. This is disturbing news, made even more shocking by the fact that, in their pursuit of nukes, the Chinese have apparently developed a time machine and gone back into time to 1964, allowing them to develop and create a 47 year old stockpile of nuclear weapons.

Now we know why Chinese scientists earlier this year claimed to “prove” that time travel was impossible: they were trying to throw the rest of us off track. Of course, I knew that was bullshit at the time, because anybody who’s ever watched Star Trek knows that tachyons travel faster than the speed of light.

Clearly, Herman Cain has what it takes to be President: brains, courage, vision, and a short wife. Or, as Ann Coulter would say,

…our blacks are so much better than their blacks

Yes, it’s true. In fact – ashamed as I am to admit it – I don’t even have any blacks. Damn crappy economy.

So, as Ann says, you goddamn liberal racists (like Jon Stewart. If you don’t believe me – or Ann – just ask civil rights champion Donald Trump) better knock it off with your high-tech lynching.

Appearing on Hannity’s show Monday night, Coulter agreed that the Cain story is a “high-tech lynching,” adding that “it’s coming from the exact same people who used to do the lynching with ropes, now they do it with a word processor.”

Yes. One of those high-tech word processor thingies. Most likely a Radio Shack TRS-80. Or maybe a Commodore Plus/4.

Bad news for you women winos out there. A new study says drinking – even in moderation – increases your risk of breast cancer. Of course, drinking in moderation is good for your heart. But, hey, you need to set your priorities (besides, their definition of “moderation” is about two cases of beer less than mine).

Hard to believe, but it’s been two whole weeks since our last biweekly meeting at work. Exciting as these meetings are in general, today’s will be even more thrilling as it’s being held in – get this – not only a different conference room than usual, but actually on a whole different floor! And on a floor I don’t normally go to (the first floor; we only actually have two in my building), except occasionally the mens room down there, but only if I have something particularly nasty to work on.

Anyhow, I better get going a bit earlier than usual so I can make myself beautiful.

I hope you all survived Halloween last night (nobody rang our bell, but it’s not light enough out yet to see if any tricksters were about). Like me, I’m sure you’ll start your day with an early morning mass (just in case you were wondering, yes, it is, indeed, a Holy Day of Obligation – though if it had fallen on Saturday or Monday, the obligation to attend mass would have been abrogated – but only in the US, so no loopholes for you foreigners). The lo-cal weather dork just expressed amazement that “just like that” it goes from October to November. Yep. That’s amazing alright. So, yeah, it’s November now, which means election day is almost here. A week from today, if my calculations are accurate (next Tuesday is either Election Day or the Rapture; I need to crunch the numbers one more time).

This my first (Election Day; we’ve had two raptures so far) where I live now, and, what with it being a strictly local election and what with me not knowing any of the players, I’m not sure I’ll even vote. If not, it’ll be the first one I’ve missed in longer than I can remember. Since I voted for Truman or something.

The political signs are out in force, of course, for exciting races like Town Council and Village Supervisor and stuff like that. There’s some woman named Erin Gall who’s running for some sort of Judgeship – State Supreme Court, I think. She’s not bad looking – in a Michele Bachmann crazy-eyes kinda way. She has tons of very large signs around with her picture on it (“Gall for Justice”), so I assumed she’s gots lots of money behind her, and is therefore a f*cking Republican. Just looked her up, and on her Facebook page she “likes” our teabagger, anti-Planned Parenthood abortion crusading Congressbitch, so I reckon I was right about that. Reason enough to go and vote against her, I guess. Too bad, nice Irish girl and all. The odd thing is that she appears to be running for a seat that’s in a different county than where I live. Must be one of those odd gerrymandering things.

It’s not in my district, but I’ve seen signs imploring me to vote for “Pigula for Highway Superintendent.” Now him, I’d vote for, just ‘cuz I respect him for getting through life with a name like Pigula. It conjures up an image of some insane, syphilitic, porcine-looking Roman emperor (no doubt played by Clint Howard in the movie version).

I suppose I should get more interested and involved in the little pissant Town politics. It’s really the only thing you have a prayer of influencing with your vote, and it would probably be good to get out there and schmooze with the local yokel power brokers, in case I ever want to put up a pole barn or get them to plow my street first or something.

In much more important news, though, is the start of basketball season, with SU opening up in an exhibition game against Cal State LA tonight. They’re coached by an SU alum, so we do them a favor and let them come across the country and lose to us in a meaningless game. Because what’s more exciting for a kid from LA than a November trip to Upstate NY?

As usual, there are high expectations for the hoops team this year, which ordinarily means I need to prepare for severe disappointment come March. Hopefully they’ll at least be fun to watch between now and then. Otherwise, it’ll get awfully cold and dark awfully quick around here.

Speaking of getting cold and dark quickly, enjoy the last week of Daylight Saving Time ‘cuz come next weekend we go back to Standard Time, which means that on Sunday night the sun will set before 5:00, and it only gets worse from there.

Sometimes I wish I could just hibernate.

Thank goodness for Governor Snotball, who over the weekend explained to all us ignorant NYers (using his most patient “trying to explain complex concepts to stupid people” voice – the same one he uses when explaining why millionaires should keep getting tax cuts so they can keep creating the jobs that they haven’t actually been creating) how when there’s wet, heavy snow and the leaves are on the trees, the trees fall down. Thank goodness he explained all that. I think he mentioned he saw trees once when he was a kid, when his dad took him on a safari north of Westchester into the mountains and he saw a wild cow. Very scary.

All this snow so early in the season is, of course, proof that Al Gore is a fat, lying bastard. I know, ‘cuz I saw it in the comments on the snow reports. If it’s Global Warming, how come it snowed, Al? Huh? Answer me that one.

No snow up here in the Miami of the Northeast, of course, but I did spend the weekend trying to prepare for winter, on the odd chance that we might get a cold snap for, oh, I don’t know, six months or so. All the storm windows are in, which, in theory, shouldn’t be a big deal because they’re just the kind that pop into place where the screens go. As is often the case with theories (like Evolution, Global Warming, and Gravity), however, what “should” be easy turned out to be a big annoying pain in the ass. Especially when I can upon the one set of windows that – unlike all the other ones that look to be the same size – have 43½” high slots. Try as I might to shove, pry, and beat 44″ high storm windows into them, I could not. I’m pleased to report that I didn’t actually break them, though, and once I decided to actually measure them and find the right storms, my job was complete. Well, except for the fact that I ran out of rope caulk to shove in the gaps. A job for next weekend, I guess.

I also got the plow out and on the tractor, and am pleased to report that the tractor fits in the garage with both the back blade and the plow on. I also got the tire chains on, which was a bit of a project because last year took its toll on them, and they’re cobbled together with quick links. But, with a new set of straps and links, they look good to go. Hopefully the tractor will now sit idle until it’s time to put the mower back on. Not much chance of that, but I can dream.

One minor tragedy from the weekend, though, as my air grease gun no longer appears to dispense grease. Fortunately, it waited until I put a fresh tube in. My last one as it turns out, and, like the horse and the barn, it’s pretty hard to get the grease back out. My other grease gun was (of course) empty, but Sunday is my day to head into Pixley to pick up a week’s worth of vittles, so I’m now reloaded and ready to lube.

I’ve gotten used to the laser hair removal commercials on the early lo-cal news program (featuring a chick who looks wasted and entirely too enthusiastic about thrusting her pelvis into the face of a hair removal technician in order to tidy up her bikini line). Apparently they figure early morning news viewers are a hairy bunch. But now they’re targeting males with a “buy one body part, get another body part free” offer. If I was going to buy a body part, it wouldn’t be one you’d find on a hairy dude (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but this does make me wonder if guys are worried about unsightly body hair these days.

Other than a unibrow (which seems to have dissipated in my old age), excessive hair has never been one of my problems, so I never really gave it much thought (there was a guy on my floor in college who looked like a gorilla, though; ironically, his nickname was “Fish” but that was ‘cuz his name was Fishbein or something), and I’m not sure I’d spend much time (let alone money) worrying about it, even if I had a horse mane down my back. In fact, it might be kinda nice when the weather gets cold.

It’s bad enough they make you women crazy with this shit, do they have to start with men, too? Let’s face it, we’re supposed to be hairy and sweaty and pudgy and childish. It’s what makes us so damn charming and lovable.

Speaking of charming and lovable, how ’bout that Herman Cain? Or “Hermain” as I seem to want to type his name. I guess Pizza isn’t the only thing ol’ Herm delivers with his motivational speeches.

During Herman Cain’s tenure as the head of the National Restaurant Association in the 1990s, at least two female employees complained to colleagues and senior association officials about inappropriate behavior by Cain, ultimately leaving their jobs at the trade group, multiple sources confirm to POLITICO.

The women complained of sexually suggestive behavior by Cain that made them angry and uncomfortable, the sources said, and they signed agreements with the restaurant group that gave them financial payouts to leave the association.

Normally I’d take any report from Politico with a grain of salt, but Cain always had a hint of Clarence Thomas about him. I bet he wears his excess hair as a badge of honor – like a real man.

Fortunately, these reports have thrust (so to speak) Hermain into the lead in Iowa. This is huge, because it’s up to the 237 voters in Iowa and the 186 in New Hampshire to determine who the next president should be. Cain/Bachmann 2012. Now there’s a winning combination (and a pretty darn cute couple, I must say).

As if President Cain wasn’t a scary enough prospect for you, it’s Halloween, and the streets will be filled with little bastards ghosts, ghouls, and goblins tonight. And zombies, I guess. They’re big this year, from what I understand.

I don’t know if anybody will wander up our driveway or not, but I don’t plan on doing anything to encourage them, and they’re SOL if they show up, ‘cuz about the best I can do for them is a handful of almonds and maybe some salad.

Speaking of which, time to get my lunch ready so I can get out there and face another work week.

In case you missed it, St. Louis won the World Series, officially ending the 9-month baseball season. It’s starting to look like there’ll be no NBA this year (are these people really that stupid? Seems like everybody’s leaving an awful lot of money on the table), though I’m only slightly more interested in pro basketball than I am in baseball. Too many games that don’t eliminate enough teams from the playoffs, so any individual game is all but meaningless. Plus the players look bored most of the time. But I suppose if we still had an NBA team here, I’d feel a lot different.

As I have no life and am up at stupid hours in the morning (up at 3:45 this morning – on a damn Saturday, ferchrissakes), I watch a lot of DIY and HGTV (which are actually infomercial channels way early, which I don’t watch – ‘cuz when I do, I wind up buying something like the Kreg Pocket Hole jig or the Rockwell Jawhorse). So, anyhow, I’m watching ‘Disaster DIY’ (which is a show where a contractor dude goes and helps clueless people finish projects; being clueless myself, I enjoy this). Anyhow, so I’m watching one this morning, and the wife is trying to get her husband to finish his project – in particular, to get the bathroom finished – and she says, “as a woman, I need a bathroom.” Now, granted, dudes have more options available but still, as a man, I, too, need a bathroom. Especially at this time of year.

Speaking of this time of year, I reckon it’s time to get the tire chains on the tractor. Hopefully that’ll stave off the snow for a while.

I knew it was supposed to snow yesterday, but I wasn’t anticipating the near white-out conditions on part of my drive home last night, let any actual accumulation. Not that we got 11″ or anything, but damned if we didn’t get enough out my way to cover the grass. I even had to clear the dish off – and I don’t remember doing that at all last year, though, now that I think about it, I didn’t get the dish until spring, so I guess that’s why. Looks like I’ll be needing a broom with a longer handle. It’s cold this morning, too – like, 20 something. Things aren’t looking promising for that mild winter I was hoping for (though, as I mentioned previously, the woolly bears are predicting a rough start and end, with a nice long, mild middle). Still, I’m really not mentally prepared for this.

I did, however, survive my Annual Health Assessment yesterday, with the nurse apparently feeling it necessary to remind me that I’m over 50 – as if I wasn’t already painfully (literally) aware of that. This means, she said, that I should get both a prostate exam and a colonoscopy. Seems that when you hit 50, Western Medicine becomes fixated with shoving things up your ass. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Not only is today the final Friday in October, but it also would have been my parents’ 65^th wedding anniversary. My dad was 26 – fresh back from ‘The War,’ and my mom was only 22. That sure seems awfully young.

Hell, I have underwear older than that – though the elastic isn’t as snappy as it used to be.

Then again, neither am I.

Today is AHA day. Yes, a squadron of nurses (like, 2, but don’t let that fool you; more than one nurse in the same place is always dangerous. In fact, just one can be trouble) will descend upon my work location, admonishing people about their high blood pressures and tsk-tsking at those who refuse flu shots. Last I saw, the flu shot was rated as having a 60% efficacy rate across all age groups. The older you get, the less likely it is to do anything for you. I suspect that even that 60% number is inflated, and I’d love to see studies testing the efficacy of smudging your home sage and/or taking oil of oregano at the first signs of illness. Oh well, never try to get between people and their religion.

I just read a “news” story that said “pour over” brewing is now the latest scam trend in gourmet coffee. You know, like back when you were in college and you couldn’t afford a Mr. Coffee, so you put a filter in a funnel and poured boiling water over it and into your cup? Yep, that’s “hip” now. I guess that helps to justify paying out the nose for a cup of shitty coffee.

Tonight, they’re unveiling our latest sports team – the Silver Nights of the Major Indoor Soccer League. Good luck with that. If they thought the AHL hockey team had a hard time competing with SU basketball, wait ’til they see how badly an indoor soccer team is ignored around here.

“Hey, it’s cold and snowy tonight. Let’s go see some soccer.”

Somehow, I just don’t think that’s gonna catch on.

It’s rare that the lo-cal news morons make me laugh (except for the weather guy – he’s just so goofy, likable, and corny, I can’t help myself), but today they showed video of Chaz Bono being booted off ‘Dancing with the Stars,’ and the anchor dude said Chaz “took it like a man.” :rofl2:

Sorry. I just thought that was pretty funny.

Not so funny, though, is the hint of snow in the air. Not a lot of snow, but it’s in the forecast for tomorrow. It’s sad to see, because you just plain never know how it’s gonna go around here, and I hate to see it start.

There are years when it gets cold early and stays that way and seems to snow every day. They even had the obligatory story on the DPW, which says they have 7 plows ready to go year-round, and four more that can be good to go in four hours. Not sure how long it takes to get the rest of the fleet changed over. And they say the “salt barns” are loaded and ready to go.

I guess I better think about getting the snow tires on.

I used to think Les Paul invented the electric guitar, but then I heard a story on NPR, which I think is this one here. Electric guitar-wise, Les Paul was more of an innovator than an inventor – and he certainly invented and innovated all kinds of stuff. As I recall, he didn’t want to amplify a hollow body guitar, but wanted to make a solid body one (and made one by putting strings and pickups on a 2×4 – affectionately known as “the log”). Apparently he nearly electrocuted himself while experimenting. Eventually he perfected it, and, displaying great prescience, the folks at Gibson said, “nah, that’ll never catch on.”

So a fellow by the name of Leo Fender beat him to market with the first solid body electric guitar, thus sparking a great debate which continues to this day:

What’s better, a Gibson Les Paul, or a Fender Stratocaster?

I report, you decide.