Picked up a Roady 2 for my Aurora. Compact little devil that'll fit almost anywhere. No smokers, so I co-opted the ashtray on the dashboard for a mounting location for the box. I had to fab a bracket (sturdy enuf I can punch buttons to my heart's content) that velcro's into the compartment and covers the hole where the ashtray went, and the lighter is right there. I went with the cassette adapter - the FM modulator might work for some people, but there's as noticable dropoff in signal quality - could be due to no open channels in my area.

Went out for a ride the other day and stopped over to visit a friend for an unannounced visit. I find those are usually the best kind, as the target of my social call doesn't have a chance to leave or hide. The weather was incredible for December, the roads were clear and dry even though the snow was mounded high, I hadn't been on two wheels for a bit, and I had some shiny new chrome I wanted to show off. Nobody home. Walking back to the bike from the door, I couldn't help but admiring the gigantic 20 foot tall light up Grinch in Santa drag in the front yard. At that point, some evil power possessed me, and it occurred to me that turning the Grinch around to face the house would be much more visible than my usual calling card.

CHRISTMAS EVIL

Because of a boyhood trauma during Christmas, a man remains slightly obsessed with the holiday for the rest of his life, becoming a toy maker and keeping track of which children are naughty and nice. After learning of his company's corporate greed he snaps and goes on a killing spree dressed as Santa.

Hey, I think I'm finally getting into this whole Christmas Thing !!!!!

I was placed into the service of the Penguin People at the tender age of four. Those of you not familiar with the Catholic faith may think the Penguin a faithful servant of society, whose only purpose is to instill proper virtue in those entrusted to their care. Personally, I think the only reason they still survive is our parents had to suffer under these zealots, and by God, so will we. I in turn was destined to marry a Good Catholic Girl and continue the cycle ad nauseum. Catholic parents being of course good Catholics (and under the implied threat of eternal damnation if they resist), send their unsuspecting and innocent children to parochial grade school in the feeble hope that things have changed since they were forced to attend.

February 26
I realized today that under the couch, there's a whole other section of floor, and all sorts of stuff is there, like the T.V. clicker, and the pizza I lost last week. However, I can't get to any of it, because there's a couch above it. What bozo came up with that system? I wanted to make a mental note to work on the problem later, but I couldn't find a pen. Frustration, thy name is couch.

Barry Bonds hits another historic home run and the man who ends up with the ball after a fight in the bleachers gets sued. The fan who actually caught the prize, which could bring millions at auction, had it stripped in a scrum in the bleachers. One of the contenders in the melee was there as a guest of a season ticket holder, and of course, the guy who actually paid for the seat wants a part of the action. Complicating matters is a "pre-existing" verbal agreement with fellow employees to split the proceeds if by some amazing fluke of fate, one, any, or all of those involved caught the ball.

Sorry to burst your bubble, bubba, but our neighbor's to the south are taking over. The Mexican/American border exists in the political mind only, and is currently an inconsequential detail to be ignored by any illegal wishing to cross and steal the fruits of our labors. The third world sees us as the pot of gold, and it's downtrodden masses are more than willing to take advantage of our weakness. Please ignore that rumbling sound - it's only the founding father's spinning in their graves.

Don't get me started on Sports Utility Vehicles ... Oops! Too late...

The government rewards the manufacturers of these amazingly incompetent and dangerous machines by exempting them from the same pollution standards almost any other road vehicle available to John Q Public has to meet. The same safety standards obviously don't apply as evidenced by the approval of lap belts and less effective brakes. The bumblers who design the rigid mount bumpers don't seem to be getting too worked up about impact absorption figuring Joe's family sedan can soak up all the momentum in an accident. With a nod and a wink to the federal inspectors, they proudly display their product with a standard tire to meet the bumper height requirements, and then ship them out the door with rubber that would look ridiculous on a tractor.

Do It Yourself! Save a bundle and have fun doing it! The enticing allure of not having to pay someone else to build your dream home is hard to resist. Ask any home supply department or lumber retailer, and they'll tell you it's a walk in the park. These guys didn't just fall off the turnip truck; they know a major part of their profit comes from yahoo's like you who haven't a clue.

A subtle twist of sub-neutonic forces, and the transport "pod" was "there". Technically it had been there all along, as technically, it was really nowhere, and everywhere. It's all really a matter of perspective, and the Grinn had spent much of their subjective temporal history struggling with a way to rationally explain all the intricate nuances of existence that allow this to be so. Even at their advanced level of evolution, the whole truth was still mostly implied conjecture without solid verifiable truth. They had become comfortable if not satisfied with the fact that the answers at least now outnumbered the questions. What the People had discovered allowed them to proceed with the Grand Experiment, and that would have to do for now.

There was a time when it bothered me to see their smiling faces and hear the laughter. Could they not see this was an insult to the memory of those who had faced the horror that was war and sacrificed all so that America might enjoy freedom? Could they not hear the echoes of my grief, when with a blink of an eye, I could see my fallen comrades and once again feel their pain?

Sarah Brady - Chair of the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence Gun Control Advocate extraordinaire!

She single handedly forced gun control into our lives. No matter which side of the fence you prefer, you have to give her credit for her single-minded perseverance in getting the Brady Bill passed as law. She has proven herself as a role model for this generation when it comes to commitment and sacrifice.

Or has she?

The nuclear family is no more. Gone are the days when the American extended family was capable of providing support for the younguns if Mom and Pop couldn't do it alone. Usta be Gramps and Gramma were just around the corner, and could be over in a flash. Ifn they just plumb forgot to pass on a real plumb of wisdom when they reared THEIR younguns that would come in handy right then, why, they'd be right there!

We're slowly drowning in our own garbage. Do we care ? Apparently not a whole hell of a lot. Is there anything we can do ? Apparently not a whole hell of a lot. Oh ye of the gullible persuasion, ask not what you can do for your country, ask what your country can do to you. Everytime you make that extra effort to recycle a tin can or two, be mindful of the fact that you've freed up additional landfill space in Michigan to KEEP CANADA CLEAN !!

Huh? What?

I'd feel left out if I didn't get my two cents worth in on the massacre in Columbine. It seems the concensus of local opinion is it's all Marilyn Manson's fault. It's his sick, sadistic, twisted, etc., etc. devil music that perverted the minds of those who would have otherwise grown to be spears of righteousness sitting on the right hand of all that is holy.

Yeah, right ...

Proctor & Gamble's recent forays into "smart packaging" and "the Code" may be the next best thing for inducing mass hysteria in the tech universe since the "paperless office". Embedding unique microchips in the product packaging will allow passive identification of that product anywhere in the P&G food chain. Refrigerators that can modify our TV viewing to target products we now consume and others we may be interested in according to the latest polls are possible, but why stop there?

Must we fight? As Yoda of Star Wars fame might have said if the Dark Side would have won in his personal battle, "Fight we must.".

Having now achieved Empire Status ourselves, we find ourselves in the awkward position of having to lead, and quite frankly, it ain't happening. The last great democracy that tried it went down in flames as Nero fiddled. Our problem seems to be one of concensus - we have almost a quarter of a billion fiddlers, none of whom seem to have read the music. It's difficult at best to achieve a particular goal even assuming proper planning. Having to somehow homogonize the myriad goals of the multitudes that compromise our nation is obviously undoable.

The clock ticks, and the end draws nearer with every breath. They say it won't be long now, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it. We're reduced to sitting around in abandonded warehouses whose only light is provided by the shallow pools of rendered tallow from the occasional sewer rat that survives the nuclear winter. Even the cockroaches are now scarce - a hungry man will eat anything that moves ...

Let's see, there was Groucho, and Harpo, and Zeppo, and ...

Actually, as defined by Webster, an IPO is an Initial Public Offering in the stock market. Please don't confuse this process with sacrificing a virgin under a full moon, regardless of any similarities that might occur to you. Of course, the chances that the product offered meets the advertising are slim to none in both cases, but don't let that minor detail sway your decision to jump in feet first. Remember always, greed is good, your stock broker is your friend, and the only way to go is up ...

I have met the Devil, and his name is Stephen Covey. He is the patron saint of the modern, "efficient" business and the poster child for effective management. The icons of his religion are the paredo and the flow chart. His disciples are those whose prime reason for existence is the infinite analysis of all that is and ever will be. The objective is to cubby hole EVERYTHING and develop the ultimate plan with contingencies graphed to the Nth degree, eliminating completely any need for independent thought by the trench minded lower classes of the corporate environment.

A short course in the three "P"s: Politics, Politics, Politics ...

There was a time when little Sally and Jim finished their morning chores, grabbed their primers, and walked three miles through the driving snows to the one room schoolhouse. There they learned the skills essential to survival, with a bit of culture and refinement thrown in for good measure. Actually gaining something from this daily ritual was not optional – an occasional good smack or two with a ruler from the teacher assured their attention. The majority of graduates from this system proceeded to become gainful and useful members of their society.

Congress, bless their little black hearts, has somehow managed to attain all new lows in the current session. Gridlock is a way of life, and I assume some feared actually accomplishing something useful thru no fault of their own. Thus the current debacle. Neither party is to blame, no one is really accountable. They simply got bored with doing what they were elected to do and moved on to other business. We the people owe our Senators and Representatives all the respect they never earned and to hell with us if we somehow expect more. I truly believe we get what we deserve, and seeing what we got this time around, I'd really hate to see what comes next.

Racial bigotry in the United States is an insidious thing. Once the exclusive territory of vigilante white Southerners who got their jollies lynching blacks and protecting their Aryan purity, it is now practiced regularly by those who should be most offended by it and least tolerant. Decades of slow painful progress towards social equality by the black community have achieved remarkable results when compared historically to other injustices wrought by man, but along with this laudable achievement have come disturbing parallels in prejudice.

Civilization as we know it didn't happen overnight, nor was it truly spontaneous. Thru the course of history, many convoluted twists and turns have added up to the whole that is now. Conscious decisions were made that steer us on our present course. One school of thought suggests that we are where we need to be to get where we need to go. The optimist looks around and sees the current levels of comfort and technological marvels and praises the progress made. That optimists tend to be weathier and better situated to reap the marvels of this progress is evident.

The Americans with Disabilities Act was an attempt by Congress to provide a basic right of all to equal opportunity under the law. As usual, our great and mighty leaders forgot to read the book and came up with a feeble and ineffective bill that in most cases fails to right the wrongs it was intended to address. Progress has been cosmetic at best. The Act itself is disabled. The broad and generalized language of the statute effectively allows any situation that impairs the ability of an individual, in their or their lawyer's estimation to fully realize their right to whine incessantly about everything and more, as legal grounds to sue. The courts are currently under a state of seige, and the people who really needed the help in the first place are the least helped by the ADA.

The great steel Gods have spoken from the misty veiled Valhalla known as Detroit (moving soon to EuroLand - check your local listings). And Yea, we shall give unto them many pounds of steel seductively designed to generate odious amounts of testosterone. And Yea, we shall likewise give unto them the thundering power of many horses with which to satisfy the prehistoric urges generated by these excess hormones. And Yea once more, we shall build endless ribbons of concrete with which to play.

Hell is a relative thing. My personal hell is living most of my life in an 8x10 cubicle reacting to the kneejerks of a particularly moronic group of executive types who couldn't plan their way out of a paper bag.