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Welcome summer, welcome old freind.

Actually the only good things for me about summer are:
A) my wife is super happy the whole season.
B) Baseball is on every damn day.
The sun and I are enemies. I like it to be about 65 and partly cloudy. Lets put it this way, were I native american, my tribal name would be sweats when he eats. I dont like the heat. Which is just peachy (sarcastically said) because....

I'm coming down with my annual summer cold ( at least it feels like i am) two days before i'm scheduled to drive three hours and then drink for the next 48. So, in an effort to ward it off, i just took a cayenne herb supplement, two echinachea (sp?), and just for shits and grins, a ginseng tablet because that is supposed to help your immune system fight off bugs. I washed down this delightful bouquet pettite with some hot tea liberally spiced with 90 proof ginger brandy. This is all in an effort to make me sweat more than usual. How ironic.

I brought this upon myself by deviating from my rather strict self imposed dietary sanctions. I've mostly kicked my sugar addiction. I switched to diet soda (pop for those of you in our little corner of the midwest), i mostly swore off high glucose foods like white bread and corn, i basically quit eating junk/fast food, and I (until yesterday) had not eaten candy in a month. I generally feel better, i've lost 20 pounds, and i have way more energy than i ever used to.

So, my co-worker brings in a 3 ton bag of mini butterfingers and baby ruths and i just lost my damn mind and hossed out. Then today i had pizza, ice cream and a brownie. Now, i'm sick. I shoulda been smarter. I shoulda waited to break from my diet to ingest nothing but hot dogs and beer for two days on my annual weekend of fraternal bacchinalia. Well, it's not exactly baccinalia, as we (my idiot freinds and I) do not engage in roman style orgies. suffice it to say, there will be beer-soaked shennanigans to spare this weekend, without any sort of sexual improprieties.

Oh dear god, the cocktail of sweatiness has kicked in. Here's hoping I don't have a vision in which the guy who played Boone leads me around Detroit Metro airport, like that episode of Lost where Locke went into the sweat-lodge. On the plus side, I have not had a Lost dream in a few months, and it would be nice to get back into that rythym, as the season is over.

I used to have Lost themed dreams. /ben linus.

Anyway, I think if anyone (all four of my flist) takes anything away from this, it's to not drink a potent cocktail of ginger brandy and then decide to rant blog.

this goes out to my car

You should have heeded my icon's warning, car. Now, I find out that you need a new cylinder head? And over what? A burned out intake valve? So not only am i on the hook to my mechanic for finding the problem, now i have to have him fix it?

you couldn't have just made it easy? When you started misfiring, I assumed it was the spark plugs, so loving owner that I am, i carefully changed them with my own hands just so you would know how much i respect you. And it turns out, that no, it wasn't the spark plugs. So, wiping the sweat from my brow, I pondered what could still make you misfire. Plug wires! Yes, surely that will solve the problem, I said to myself, ruefully, knowing that i should have looked there before changing the plugs in the first place. Boy, what a knucklehead you must have thought me, my car. Yes, I may have made a mistake, but that was no reason to become a petulant child, car.

After lovingly installing plug wires, only wanting you to perform at your best, you still, in plain defiance, continued to misfire on cylinders 1 & 2.  If I have done something to cause offense, we should have been able to address it without that antics that followed car.

Out of ideas and running short on patience, I had you towed to my mechanic. Towed. At. My. Own. Expense. Towed becuase you don't make a horse with a busted leg run. Towed becuase you and I have had a good reltaionship. Towed becuase i want that relationship to continue for the next several years.

So, my mechanic informs me that you have burnt out one of your intake baffle valves. How did you do this?

Your stolid silence leads me to beleive you were doing something insidious that led to your baffle being burned out, therby making those cylinders lose compression, making your engine lose any functionality whatsoever. You have one last chance to tell me why this happened.

Fine, your continued silence just affirms my suspicions that you were probably huffing paint.



Look, I'm sorry that I lost my temper. it's just that I love you so much, and it's hard on me to see you damage yourself in this way.

Update: i just got off the phone with my mechanic, and the total cost to fix this debacle will be just over $1,000. Which blows hard, but is cheaper than buying a new used car, and should enable my vehicle to survive another 100,000 miles or more. Unfortunately, this puts a huge dent in our fall vacation plans. we WERE going to go to stratford ontario for the shakespeare festival and see some plays, but now we'll be renting movies fr two weeks in september. hooray?

I have a firm philosophy when it comes to cars. 12 years or 300,000 miles, whichever happens first. so this better make my car go for the next five years.

skecth comedy is awesome

So, while i'm waiting for one of the parents to get home from work to give me a ride to pick up the van, i'm watching "The Whitest Kids U'Know" on On Demand. This show is awesome. It's like Kids in the Hall with way more swearing, so I guess it's like Mr Show, without the poined assholic-ness. At any rate, it's really good.

Here's something that really made me laugh. It's full of salty language though, so if that's something you don't want to hear, please do not click on the link.


big doin's

George Lucas owes me a NEW FRIGGIN IDEA

Yeah, so as a huge star wars nerd, I invariably am drawn to any new star wars media; as such, I had the misfortune of watching episodes of the new clone wars cartoon. It started out promisingly enough with a yoda intensive episode in which he (yoda) and a small squadron of clone troopers take out a batallion of driods. Cut them to ribbons in fact.  It had some of the typical Yoda platitudes in it, you know, the force is powerful, blah blah blah, but on the whole, I liked it. Then the misery started.

So, in the cartoon, the seperatists have a new "super weapon." What is this super weapon, you ask? Well, it's a huge ship that fires a huge laser. Sound familair? Oh sure, the ship fires a big ol' ion cannon, but the concept is the EXACT SAME as the death star.  So, okay, I might be able to buy it on the grounds that the empire was formed from the ashes of the republic with seperatist technoogy; if you take that assumption at face value, then sure, this super weapon is indeed the forerunner of the death star. I can live with that.

So Anakin and his previously ne'er mentioned apprentice go on a daringly undermanned mission to blow up the superweapon. They take a squadron of "new" fighter bombers, which are just your basic Y-wings, and go to blow the thing up, before it can get out of a nebula and get into range of a republic base. Again, does this sound at all familair?

So, as the squadron of y-wings descends upon the super ship, they all check in with their leader, who summarily tells them to cut the chatter and stay on target. Now, unless you're into, and I mean INTO, star wars, you may not know what I'm talking about. Suffice it to say, this is, again, a note for note rip-off of the death star scene.

Now, the squadron is on the surface of the super ship, and they're under fire from, get this, laser towers. Awesome, just awesome.

So, they're about to hit the bridge of the ship with everything they have, when at the last second, they pull up and hit the main power of the weapon, disabling it and the super ship. The day is saved, and good triumphs over evil. WHEEEE!

Now, I know what you're saying; "hey Mr. Beets, George's new ideas (here read the prequel trilogy) were awful, why do you want more of that?" Well, yes, those movies are terrible. but they aren't just note for note rip-offs of the originals.  Look, it's like this. You take something I love and screw it up royally, say by covering it in crap and lighting it on fire. Now, not content with ruining that for me, you take the crap-dusted ashes of the thing I love that you messed up, and mold those into a bizzare effegy of the thing I love, probably while pouring sugar in my gas tank. That's what George Lucas did in this instance.



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