Plush Cock

Pictured below is a toy we received as a gift for the new baby. It's a Baby Einstein creation. I thought perhaps it was lack of sleep causing me to see things, so I took a picture and waited a day to come back and give a second look, lest my eyes were playing tricks on me.

They weren't.

I would very much like to know why there is a GIANT COCK AND BALLS growing out of the head of this overly-cutesified turtle.


The BE executives all sit around the massive conference table, each throughly scrutinizing the other to see who has the most powerful cornflower blue tie, or if anyone brought into the meeting a grande-er latte than theirs, while the marketing team sets up the sketches for the new toy and adjusts their chunky designer frames and faded sportcoats to make sure that everyone knows they are wells of creativity retaining an appropriate business sensibility.....

Marketing #1: As you can see this turtle brings to the table some recent tactile innovations. Where most child toys strive for softness, we've made its hands and feet into various plastic sea shapes, which will give the child a greater range of tactile experience while still maintaining the whole "sea" theme. We also think that this will help promote greater environmental awareness at the earliest possible age. All people should be aware of the plight of the sea turtle. And sustainability. And, ummm.....

**fondles "Save the Sea Turtles" pin and begins weeping**

Marketing #2: **steps in to take over for emotional #1** As I'm sure you all can see, this is a very big issue for us. Well, really, it's a very big issue for the world. We were thinking of perhaps adding a Save the Planet t-shirt. We already have the cost and risk analysis team on standby to examine this addition if we can get sign off from the executive team. Global Village.

Exec #1: What?

Marketing #2: Huh?

Exec #1: Why did you just say "Global Village"?

Marketing #2: I did?

Exec #1: Yeah....anyway......**looks at Exec #2** What do you think?

Exec #2: **fondling Starbucks cup** It' not bad, but I just can't help but wonder if maybe it's not quite right. I mean, I like the whole t-shirt idea, but was thinking maybe a Starbucks t-shirt? In that way we could get Starbucks to subsidize some of the production cost as an advertising expense. I saw on the news yesterday that experts think that coffee makes infants smarter, and this way the child with the toy will not only become environmentally conscious as soon as possible, but we can also make them aware that Ethiopians exist, AND they'll know where to get good coffee. I mean seriously, what did we do before Starbucks? I just love'em.

Exec #3 (VP): No t-shirts.

Exec #1: Really, Bob? I thought Sheila's idea was pretty good. It could make for a nice revenue stream.

Exec #3: Yes, really, Steve. Everyone knows that turtles don't wear t-shirts. Besides, I hate t-shirts. It takes forever to find one that fits and feels decent, which is great till you need to wash it. You wash it once, and it's fucked. It never feels or fits right again after that. So you have to start the search all over again. It's a vicious and cruel cycle, Steve. I hate t-shirts. I've had it, just had it, and I refuse to make the next generation a victim of that scourge.

It's almost perfect. It just needs...something....

Exec #1: Sheila, any other thoughts?

Exec #2: I think it might be offensive to some groups. I mean, what are we really saying with this toy? It doesn't seem like it teaches very much...

Marketing #1: It teaches the Plight of the Sea Turtles!!! Environments and Villages!! **breaks down into sobbing again and falls, inconsolable and trembling, into the corner**

Marketing #2: Look at what you guys did now! **lips trembling, eyes getting leaky** I mean, what are we supposed to do? You have us at a total loss at this point. I'm so angry and hurt, that at this point we may as well stick penis on its head and call it a day!

Exec #3 (VP): What was that?

Marketing #2: I'm sorry, I'm just so frustrated right now. I mean we spent so much time on this.....

Exec #3 (VP): Can you really put a penis on its head?

Marketing #2: Well, umm, I guess we could....but-

Exec#3 (VP): I like it. Let's go with that.

Exec #2: Are you sure, Bob? That seems like it might be a little out of place.

Exec #3 (VP): Of course I'm sure, Steve. Think about it. The gays are adopting kids all over the place these days. They'll eat this kind of thing right up. Besides, a prominent dick never hurt anyone. I like penises--seems like the progressive way to go from my end. I also like fried eggs. Can we get one of those, too? Maybe right by the penis?

Marketing #2: Umm, sure, I guess. I'll let the design team know.

Exec #3 (VP): Good, good. So now we've got a food group, anatomy, and environmental awareness. Make this your primary action item. I think we've got a good one here, people. Stop licking the Starbucks logo, Sheila.

**END**

Meet the Breeders

It is finished. And it has begun.

That's Anna Ingrid, who finally decided to make an appearance at 5:35 PM on Feb. 22nd after 60 hours of seriously intense struggle. Ridiculous. My wife no longer gets to claim that she is a wimp. She can try, of course, but from now on any such protestations will be met with a reminder of the 2.5 days spent crapping a small (6.5 lb) rocking chair in slow motion. Color me amazed.

By the way, that's not me looking at the baby. That's me falling over from exhaustion.

I was going to write a more exhaustive account to include the scare we had when she was born, and I still may do so, but for now short and sweet seems the best way. It's only a baby. Granted, in addition to being really really ridiculously good-looking as well as the smartest, most well-behaved child to ever grace the surface of the earth, it is still only a baby and only marginally interesting to someone on the outside. Thus, I promise I will try (and note here that I said "try") to not be that guy who writes long and/or sappy diatribes about his child with an accompanying stream of photos that never ends. Did I mention she smells like flowers on a spring day after a fresh rain? She does.

Whenever the subject would come up, my father (and several others) would always say, "Once you have a child of your own, you'll wonder just how in the world you ever lived without him/her."

He was right. Consider me officially on that bandwagon.


She is precious to me.

(Many thanks to all of you who sent emails of congratulations. They were very much appreciated.)

Dear Old Man Winter,

72 Hours and nearly 3 feet of new snow....









I give.

Uncle.

I'll say whatever you want, just stop.

Please. This is just ridiculous.

McCain and Lieberman: Dynamic Duo

It's official.

(click to enlarge)

(I see it. I caught the "worry" typo a bit too late, and simply don't want to take the time to edit.)

Lieberman as VP?

I saw this Think Progress post, and well, I just couldn't help myself....

Candidates of Change

Just found this, a reasonably thorough list.

Courtesy of the CIA's favorite rag, WaPo.

Saying "change" while the reality is "shuffle".

Enjoy those "choices".

We now return you to the circus, already in progress.

Baby 1, Vagina 0

The poor, poor woman.

This almost made me have a stroke

Mrs. Head just read the following to me, posted at one of the pregnancy forums in which she occasionally lurks.

"Unique names stand out to people more than common names."

Oh god, I wish I was kidding.

The Next Big Idea

So I had this idea. I'm not even going to try and explain how I got there, it would take too long. It was a Nicky Nicky Nine Doors moment, something witnessed by few, and likely only remembered by Al. As this explanation is becoming more strange with every passing sentence and is likely only heightening confusion, I'll leave it at that.

Just hear me out.

What if one were to take a nice dinner platter, add some of that superultragreenextraleafy buffet lettuce (think Sizzler), put some tits on it, and take a picture?

Tits on a Plate.

It would be all the rage in the "up and comer" pantheon of fetish sites, I just know it. If a woman's feet flopping around in goo can be popular, this can do it too. The Little Porn Idea that Could.

Think about it. All one would need is a contest and international fame would ensue.

Announce. Offer prize and conferring of title. Take submissions for a month. Get quasi-celebrity judges. Declare winner, confer title. Repeat.

After some winners, announce a larger and more prestigious contest. State or perhaps even National conferring. Maybe announce divisions in the interest of fairness. Seniors Edition for the older, more technologically sophisticated set? Look honey, Grandpa's in better spirits than we've seen him in years! Go global. Be roundly condemned and widely loved.

It could work, we have reached that level. It's a stupidity who's time has come.

(and don't even think about implementing this without cutting me in you fuckers)

Check Out My Glorious Meat

(No style biting here, I swear it. BG asked for some pics. Style Bite Free since 2003. :))

The noble pig, in roast form.


Indeed, it needs something. Like more pig. Enter Bacon.


Where'd the bacon go? Where all meat should go....in the hole. (Oh, that's dirty) I went with the lengthwise incision, to ensure bacon in every slice of the roast.


Next, worcestershire, liberally. For extra worcestershire penetration, stab the roast a few times on the top and bottom. Make sure the blade goes with the grain of the meat. No, I don't know why. Instinct. The gods told me it would dishonor the memory of the pig. Just do it.

Let sit a few, then turn. Repeat, repeat, repeat, over the course of 15 mins, or so.

Place in roasting pan, cover with olive oil (that's EVOO, if you're into Rachel Ray, and holy christ, I sincerely hope you're not--if you are, I don't wanna know) and coarse ground pepper. Add a little water, cover with foil, 300-325 for 75 mins (this roast is about 2lbs).


Slice red onion thin, then rough chop. Don't toss the worcestershire/pepper mix, we're gonna use it (although you may want to stick it in the fridge since there's pork business intermingled).

Take that red onion (or white, if you prefer milder) and toss it with spinach leaves, a quality honey mustard, and lemon juice. Not a lot of lemon juice, mind you, but just enough to facilitate an even-handed spreading of the honey mustard gospel to the godless spinach inhabitants. The photo is deceiving--Don't use too much honey mustard--there should only be a very light coating on the leaves. (I will now channel William Hung and let you know that "I have no professional traning of photographing")

Okay, maybe I used a bit much. It was an accident. Don't be like me.

60 minutes in, I popped off the foil and coated the roast the previously pictured leftover worcestershire/ground pepper/pork business mix. Re-cover and back in the oven. Made the command decision to hit it with another 20 mins, after which I removed the foil and left it for another 7 mins to brown and carmelize a bit after basting it with some drippings.

Witness the honored pig.

(Optional: You can chop a nice organic pear and stuff it with the bacon. I was going to to that tonight, but the pear I was saving was MIA. C'est la vie, it was still goddamn delicious.)

Note to Floridians

If you're going to rape an animal, do it quick.

(Disclaimer: I am not a Perez Reader. However, Mrs. Head is still overcoming her celebrity news addiction--she pointed this out as she fell off the wagon. Again :))

Ron Paul on Bill Moyers-01/04

Watch it.

The Real Iowa Winner-Updated

"So corrupted indeed and debased was that age by sycophancy that not only the foremost citizens who were forced to save their grandeur by servility, but every exconsul, most of the ex-praetors and a host of inferior senators would rise in eager rivalry to propose shameful and preposterous motions. Tradition says that Tiberius as often as he left the Senate-House used to exclaim in Greek, "How ready these men are to be slaves." Clearly, even he, with his dislike of public freedom, was disgusted at the abject abasement of his creatures." [emphasis mine]

--The Annals by Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Book 3

So, here's the top five from each side of the fence:

Democrats

Barack Obama: 38%
John Edwards: 30%
Hillary Clinton: 29%
Bill Richardson: 2%
Joe Biden: 1%

Republicans

Mike Huckabee: 34%
Mitt Romney: 25%
Fred Thompson: 13%
John McCain: 13%
Ron Paul: 10%

All the Dems say, Obama Huzzah, Guiliani lost, even to nutso Ron Paul, Huzzah! All the Republicans say, Chuck Norris and The Huck, Huzzah! That bitch Hillary took a beating, Huzzah!

Of course, one could look at this chart from another perspective....

Democrats

Barack Obama: 38% --CFR
John Edwards: 30% --CFR
Hillary Clinton: 29% --CFR
Bill Richardson: 2% --CFR
Joe Biden: 1% --CFR

Republicans

Mike Huckabee: 34% --Chummy with Serious Advisors John Bolton (CFR), and Richard Haass (President, CFR)
Mitt Romney: 25% --CFR
Fred Thompson: 13% --CFR
John McCain: 13% --CFR
Ron Paul: 10%

Sovereignty and Globalisation, and article from Mr. Haass, is as good a place as any to start for the hard of thinking. Kind of funny is it not, especially on the Repub side of the fence*, what with all of the "top tier" candidates talking incessantly about the importance of border security. It's not a lie, certainly, because lying would be bad. But perhaps they're referring to a North American border, rather than the US border?

*I'm not addressing the democratic side because the stated agenda of the CFR lines up very nicely with the particular Kumbaya flavor of Kool-Aid that they, by and large, consume with great gusto. And besides, everyone knows that Democrats are communist socialist surrender-monkey terrorist-loving white guilt baguette chomping homosexual America-haters, right? (haha, I got jokes)

And already, as is so easily done when speaking of these things, I'm deviating.

In examining the top Republican "choice" from Iowa, once again the "evangelicals" or "fundamentalists" or whatever you want to call them are once again having their great numbers, their primitive instincts, and their massive ignorance highlighted*. You'd think they would learn. I can only imagine the smug satisfaction that must be on display in the inner chambers of the Harold Pratt House.

*Again, for the hard of thinking, this could easily be applied to the Democrat adherents as well. For now, I'm simply focusing on the Red Pachyderms rather than the Blue Asses.

One of the central tenants of being an evangelical is that you are opposed to an all-encompassing international system of governance (one-world government) because the Bible clearly states that such a thing is a harbinger of the "end times", and thus "evil". And yet these good, salt-of-the-earth Christian folk line up like good lambs behind the new shepherd candidates they are given, especially the preacher. Because preachers are good people. They don't lie, they know lots of stuff, and preachers naturally commune with the Lord of Hosts on a much more regular basis. Never mind that the preacher in question (as well as the other candidates) have latched themselves onto the people who's agenda is the very antithesis of their "values".

(Christians, start your persecution complex engines now)

(Neoconservative security state idealogues, start your "But the terrorists..." engines now)

The point is not whether or not globalisation or one-world government (or whatever other name you give it) is a good or a bad thing. What does matter is that an organization as massively wealthy and influential as the CFR (being the offspring of the Royal Institute for International Affairs), with their stated and up-front agenda towards these very ends, owns virtually all the horses in this "democratic" race, where America will make it's next "choice", and that should be a problem for everyone, regardless of position, because it means that the "internationalist" agenda will go forward. The only difference will be in the details of its Liberal or Conservative implementation.

Not much of a choice, is it?

Democracy in action. Huzzah, indeed.

CFR wins! CFR wins! CFR wins!

Update: Added Link to Huck bullet. Also worth reading, Digby-Another Huckabee Lie. Indeed whether or not he's lying about his CFR connections, you can tell by his blather about those folks that he sure would like some.

I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to see this...

Democratic Test Returns from International Herald Tribune.

267 of 301 precincts - 89 percent

John Edwards27,001 - 29 percent

Dennis Kucinich23,296 - 25 percent

Mike Gravel6,498 - 7 percent

Bill Richardson5,682 - 6 percent

Barack Obama5,471 - 6 percent

Joe Biden5,217 - 6 percent

Hillary Clinton4,753 - 5 percent

Chris Dodd3,781 - 4 percent

Michael Skok1,820 - 2 percent

Total Write-ins1,630 - 2 percent

O. Savior1,249 - 1 percent

Tom Laughlin1,159 - 1 percent

Tom Koos1,090 - 1 percent

Dal LaMagna1,052 - 1 percent

Caroline Killeen854 - 1 percent

Bill Keefe753 - 1 percent

D.R. Hunter656 - 1 percent

William Hughes588 - 1 percent

Richard Caligiuri492 - 1 percent

Kenneth Capalbo390 - 0 percent

Randy Crow296 - 0 percent

Henry Hewes194 - 0 percent

I have no idea what it means exactly, but I'm thinking someone's ass may be toast. Just a feeling. Maybe it's the 'not be broadcast or published' part.

Indeed, a New Year.

It's about 8 degrees right now, this 8:30 PM on New Years Eve. What I wanna know is this:

Where the fuck is global warming when I need it?

It's a bitchin' New Years party here, and I would wave goodbye to 2007, but I'm too huddled and shivering.

Everyone here is totally wasted. Yup, baby too. Hell, she just puked over the upstairs rail and caught her second wind. This family won't have any problem making it to midnight. Ridiculous raging parties into the wee hours is just how we roll.

One last thing....

Carson Daly, as well as the Dick Clark that came before him, can suck it.

Happy New Year

The War on Terror will keep on keepin' on

Anglo-American Ambitions behind the Assassination of Benazir Bhutto and the Destabilization of Pakistan

This was Pakistan’s 9/11; Pakistan’s JFK assassination, and its impact will resonate for years.

Contrary to mainstream corporate news reporting, chaos benefits Bush-Cheney’s “war on terrorism”. Calls for “increased worldwide security” will pave the way for a muscular US reaction, US-led force and other forms of “crack down” from Bush-Cheney across the region. In other words, the assassination helps ensure that the US will not only never leave, but also increase its presence.

The Pakistani election, if it takes place at all, is a simpler two-way choice: pro-US Musharraf or pro-US Sharif.

Pope: I only look possessed.

[source]

Pope's exorcist squads will wage war on Satan | the Daily Mail

The Pope has ordered his bishops to set up exorcism squads to tackle the rise of Satanism.

[...]

Each bishop is to be told to have in his diocese a number of priests trained to fight demonic possession.

The initiative was revealed by 82-year-old Father Gabriele Amorth, the Vatican "exorcistinchief," to the online Catholic news service Petrus.

"Thanks be to God, we have a Pope who has decided to fight the Devil head-on," he said.

Perhaps Mr. CreepyPope could start by using those squads on himself.

The Pieces

2008 approaches, preceded by a deep sense of foreboding, and I don't think I'm alone. Not totally, at least. Like an impending storm that you feel before you see, it approaches, and hosts of tiny voices deep inside your cells begin warning you that unless you find some shelter you're going to be inconvenienced in a very big way. Sliding down the slope towards the Sarlac (look honey, a Star Wars nerd trying to write! Thats cute....) with little to hold onto but sand.

That's really just a poor way of describing in a short paragraph how I feel about the geopolitics of it all. Another several posts for another several days--I'd rather refrain from politics or anything "geo" for now. I only mention it to bring up how this particular aspect of the current foreboding (can I shorten that? Maybe with a capital Forbode and magically turn it into a noun. The Forbode.) has a strictly external quality. It hovers in the outer periphery. There is another quality to it, though, as well. It's more internal, as though something is hovering underneath you and is ready to rise. Any walls you try and erect around yourself won't matter in the least, and any methods of intervention you try and stage will be for naught.

********

About four months after arriving at my first base, we received the news that we were deploying. As soon as I heard it, I didn't want to go. Not because unfamiliar places suddenly seemed utterly frightening, that part of the deal was worth looking forward to. There was the sudden feeling that something was going to happen and that Saudi Arabia wasn't going to be a very good place to be when it did. Naturally, walking up to my bosses and informing them of this "feeling" wasn't going to change a thing, so off I went.

Four weeks or so passed and everyone had, for the most part, adjusted. Taking a dump so close to another person, and by close I mean separated by only 6 inches of partition cloth, no longer seemed quite as strange. Who knew that forgetting what it was like to be cool, or clean, or alone, would become so normal, or that it would happen so quickly? That you would swear Fanta came directly from a divine bosom, or that a girl you might have previously described as "hammertime" is now "kinda hot"? Ah, the strange and disconcerting qualities of human adaptation (and desert queens)....

As I barreled from my tent to walk the 200 yards to the toilet, I ran into the First Sergeant who was closing in with a very businesslike look on his face. He abruptly got my attention, and after confirming that I was the guy he was looking for, told me I needed to get to a phone. My grandmother had died. He then proceeded to ensure that I wasn't harboring any illusions. No, I could not go back for the funeral. That sort of thing is only for direct family, and a grandparent doesn't fall into that category.

I knew it. I knew I had known it.

Again, it's not like I could have stayed behind and I knew that, but it was upsetting to know that I hadn't (or was it, couldn't?) recognized it. It was only in that moment that it dawned on me that the feeling was no different than the one I carried with me as I left for tech school. At the time, I simply thought the sense of foreboding was the knowledge that I was going to get dumped by the girl with whom I was (at the time) madly in love. I didn't want it to happen, knew it would, and eventually it did. However, during the same period, my grandfather died. I could remember wondering at the time if this foreboding had to do with both things or just one, and if it was just one of them, which one? Standing in the desert in front of the FS in the white hot sun of the early afternoon, I had my answer.

Another piece of who I was up to that point had fallen away, and all I could do was look. My grandfather was a large piece, and grandmother was a still larger one. I had much to look at.

************

Last night I was speaking to my father on the phone when the feeling returned. He was relating a few stories about when I was very young, a ritual to be expected with a new child joining the ranks. Indeed, how else will the common folk be able to determine what traits made it through the gene lottery? It was on the tail end of a story about me leaving a load all down the hallway that it returned, strong enough to momentarily cause a loss in my train of thought.

This is not a prediction that my father will die this year, although it's hard not to at least fleetingly think such things based on the past and the fact that my diabetic father is gorging himself in that direction as fast as he can go.* It is largely useless to try and specifically determine such things.

*And no, this sentence is not revealing as to the source of the foreboding or some subtle way of saying that I'm scared of losing my father and am not sure how to deal with it. Just so we're clear.

I've heard and read a lot of people who, when speaking of loss, describe an emptiness left behind. If anyone had asked at the time my grandfather or grandmother fell away from my life, I very well may have said the same thing, but I think I would have been wrong. When such a piece falls away, we are so focused on it lying there that it is assumed that only emptiness remains. It is not. It is you, who you are, left bare, without the protective and supportive shell that once was. Many times it is petrifying and largely incomprehensible.

Something inside me says that I'm about to see more of myself. All I can do is look. It is all I need to do because when I look, I understand, and that makes the falling pieces more of the revealing they are supposed to be rather than the dissembling they seem to be.

A banner week for Idaho

First, the newest "heroes" that will be serving, protecting, and causing PTSD.

[Academy Head] Black says, "Our class president was ex-military. It slipped in."

Oooh, ex-military. Well, why didn't you say something sooner? Aaaah, those wild and crazy stormtroopers, always with their jokes. Boys will be boys. Funny stuff, and not frightening in the least.

And...

Where were you during the Great Tater Tot Fire of '07?

Good god...