Cake Eater Chronicles

What would YOU have done?

Let's say you are camping somewhere down under and a fourteen foot croc grabs one of your camping buddies and starts to drag him off. What would you do?

Well, this sixty-year-old granny jumped on his back and just about had her arm torn off; however, she hung on long enough for friend to get away and her son to shoot and kill it.

Now she has been awarded Australia's highest civilian bravery award, the Star of Courage.

If that were not enough, here's a story of a South African guy who lost his wedding ring legitimately, a croc ate it, along with his arm...

G'day, Mates!

I Swear...

...there's a new holiday popping up everyday.

Mythical Bloggers

Blogging blogging a childlike egocentrism, and with few exceptions, we know little about the bloggers that we read. Of course, most of us claim the what you see is what you get defense, but surely we do hide some facets of our personality from our audience.

My old drinking buddy, Bruce, once detailed his blogging personality for me, which made me ponder things. In person, his demeanor is quite soft-spoken, and as much as he is embarrassed when I mention this, he is quite polite and would do just about anything within his power for a friend. In his writings, however, he appears very abrasive at times. Perhaps the context of his blog facilitates this temporary personality, since his main subject of discussion is political and social commentary.

As to myself, Sadie exists as a mere part of the person behind her. Like every other blogger, this girl behind the girl is multifarious, and trust me, I'm only 25% interesting. Fortunately, most days that percentage shows through in the writing, so what I blog about is indeed truthful, yet amplified. For example - Sadie the Blogger is stunningly beautiful and can do quadratic equations in her head. Sadie the Person Sadie is pretty cute and vaguely remembers quadradic equations, but I can recite several jokes about them. Does that count?

How does your blogging persona differ from your reality-based self?

eye candy

Since I've only got another day until I have to hand in the keys to this blog, I'd better get with it. Lovers of mechanical devices rejoice! Consider this the "Carnival of Russ' favorite British motorcycles".

Kenny Dreer Norton. Kenny Dreer is an exceptionally gifted mechanic from the Pacific Northwest. He's a part owner of the Norton brand now, but up until a couple of years ago, he specialized in restoring old Norton Commandos. It got to the point where he had to manufacture so many of the parts himself, he said "screw this, let's just make them ourselves". He's trying to remake the brand with a new design for a Commando. I hope it works, but the classics are just plain SUHWEEEET.

Vincent Rapide and pictures of Rollie Free's famous run at the Bonneville Salt Flats on his Vincent (note the pictures of Bert Hopwood's Indian near the top of this page). Rollie couldn't get over 150 on his bike, even with his radical riding position, so he stripped off all his leathers and rode with a swimsuit only. There's also a song dedicated to the 1952 Vincent Black Lightning, from Richard Thompson.

BSA thumbnail pictures (the BSA gold star is a special favorite of mine)

For my money, the most attractive "thumper" (big single-cylinder bike) ever produced is the Matchless G80.

Let's see, motorcycles, the Olympics, and siege engines. That leaves beer and firearms as topics left on the table (I promised Kathy prOn wouldn't be used as a topic).

New Bond Sissygate Errata

In our previous post about the New Bond Sissygate scandal, we neglected to note that new Bond actor Daniel Craig is also scared of boats:

As the 37-year-old actor got off the Royal Marines speedboat which brought him along the Thames to his unveiling as Bond, he revealed the high-speed ride had terrified him.

The Cake Eater fill in blogger regrets the error (by which we mean the error of ever casting this sorry excuse for James Bond).

We have a "screwup" gap

Yesterday, while working near Des Moines, I stopped by Barnes & Noble to use the birthday gift certificate my in-laws gave me last week. I managed to read Bernard Goldberg's "100 People Who Are Screwing Up America (and Al Franken is #37)" this morning, and I've gotta say that he's nailed it pretty well. My only concern is that we conservatives should have more of our brethren on the list. Sure, he's got Jimmy Swaggart (filthy hypocrite who can't really be considered a conservative IMHO), Ken Lay & the guy from Tyco (conservatives? I don't know, but Gordon Gekko-types like these are usually lumped into the conservative/Republican camp), Michael Savage, and some nutter who murdered an abortion doctor in front of his family.

I'd like to think that conservatives would at least be doing as much to destroy the fabric of America, through both action and inaction, than liberals are doing. Where's that famous "protestant/midwestern work ethic" we're always talking about? Shouldn't we be embarrassed that liberals are outworking us on this issue?

Why aren't we doing more to screw up the country, and why do I feel like signing this entry as "General 'Buck' Turgidson"?

Cherchez la vache!

I'm a guy. There, I've said it. That, and the fact that I've got a degree in civil engineering, makes my interests gravitate towards mechanical devices and their design. Quilting (which the Mrs. likes to do), will continue to remain a mystery to me - unless someone comes up with a way to shave one c.c. of material from the combustion chamber of said quilt and increase it's horsepower by 27% without increasing fuel consumption. Or maybe they'll come up with a new powder that allows said quilt to shoot with a flatter trajectory that increases it's effective range out to 900 yards instead of the normal 600.

My wife generally puts up with my obsessions, but she sometimes draws the line. Fortunately for me, she usually draws the line at reasonable places, like rebuilding the engine of a 1963 Aeromacchi Sprint Model C on our coffee table (I can do it on the old beat-up coffee table in the basement, but not on our "Sunday Go-To-Meetin" one in the living room), or decorating our guest bedroom with reproduction posters of original Russian-language drawings showing the correct way to break down and maintain the 1895 Nagant revolver in 7.62mm (prints of ducks and deer are OK). She's even gotten me items from the local flea market as Christmas presents that warm my poor little trailer-trash heart: a 4-foot tall inflatible bottle of Shiner Bock and an old Schlitz beer sign with a lighted keg that throws disco-ball beams of light across the room. Don't tell her I said this, but I'm a pretty lucky guy. Last year for Christmas, she bought me a new shotgun after seeing me dither and blather on for a couple of years about wanting a new one to replace my battered but trusty Mossberg 500 but never actually doing anything until "I can find one on the sale to end all sales". After that, I told her that she's covered for Christmas, birthday, valentines, anniversary and even groundhog day presents for the next couple of years, but bless her heart she ignored me (like she is wont to do on other issues).

She's outdone herself this year. For my birthday last weekend, she did her shopping at THIS website. This gift makes that stupid freakin' pony I got back in third grade look like a pair of dress socks by comparison.

Medieval siege engines have been a hobby of mine for the last 10 or 15 years. I really got interested in them after an article in Outside magazine in the early 90's outlined the efforts of a bunch of crazy loons (ERRR, I mean "prophetic visionaries") to build a giant trebuchet in a remote part of Texas. According to their optimistic calculations, they were "going to be able to hurl a 1962 Buick 1000 feet". Before that, I had considered siege engines to be really cool artifacts of a bygone age, but that article opened my eyes to the uses of these tools in the modern era.

My old college buddy from ISU who lives on a lake near Kansas City: We've discussed using a trebuchet or maybe an mangonel to launch flaming bags of dog-doo at the inconsiderate louts who stop their boats at his dock and fish his "personal crappie honey-hole" without permission.

My tailgating companions at football games: Mounting a smaller siege engine on top of our converted school bus would be a nice "old school" way to launch debris at those loudmouthed jerks from Nebraska who come to town every two years.

My parents have an 80-acre parcel West of town where my wife and I would like to build a house someday. One of the times when we were out there on top of the ridge admiring the view of the "mighty" Howerdon Creek watershed, I suggested "Hey, if I built a trebuchet here, we could park an old junker car at the back corner of the pasture and launch bowling balls at it for kicks." I'm going to take the fact that she hasn't tried to smother me in my sleep since making that observation as the equivalent of "OK honey, that's a GREAT idea. Why don't you add a keg fridge onto the design while you're at it?".

My recent birthday present consists of a kit for building a tabletop trebuchet, along with the computer modeling programs for both traditional trebuchets and the newer "floating arm type" trebuchets". The CD's also contain plans for building several types of trebuchets and a small copy of the Roman mangonel, along with a couple of books detailing the history of siege engines and their use in modern times.

For those without my obsession, the mangonel is what most people picture when they hear "catapault". It's a short device with a stop that arrests the forward momentum of the throwing arm, which derives it's strength from a tightly wound skein of rope (I have seen plans on building these using a large bundle of garage door springs, but let's stick to authentic designs for the time being). The throwing arm is limited to rotating through 90 degrees, and the mangonel throws it's projectiles into a relatively flat trajectory (compared to other devices which will be mentioned later). The petraria is a device that uses a bow to power a mangonel-type of device, and a ballista is an ancient Greek device that is designed to launch bolts towards a target, kind of like a large crew-served crossbow. The trebuchet is my personal favorite. It's a machine that uses a counterweight and an arm that rotates closer to 180 degrees to send it's payload in a high arc downrange. The trebuchet was the pinnacle of siege engine technology, and if not for the invention of gunpowder, we would probably still be using them today. Their high trajectory is what really makes me giggle. Watching the "French Castle" scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", I think the high arc of the "vache" and the hollow wooden rabbit indicate that a trebuchet was the unseen siege engine used to get them airborne.

If you're saying to yourself right now "Oh yeah, I remember that episode of Northern Exposure where Chris built a trebuchet and used it to throw a piano across town", STOP. RIGHT. THERE. I don't begrudge that show it's quirky sensibilities, but I refuse to acknowledge any inspiration from it (personally, I didn't see this episode until the late 90's in reruns). It would be like Stephen Hawking saying "I got this idea about black holes from a really cool episode of Martha Stewart Living", or hearing Harold Ramis admit that "the idea for "Stripes" came from an issue of Tiger Beat magazine." Some ideas NEED to come from drunken binges. As the newspaper reporter at the end of "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" said so aptly: "When the legend becomes truth, print the legend." I'll cop to being inspired by "The Holy Grail", but admitting that Northern Freakin' Exposure helped inspire my madness would just flat out require me to tear up my Man Card, and that dog won't hunt.

Anyway, enough about my tender sensibilities and back to my situation. I've got a kit for a small "toy" trebuchet that can launch marbles 20 feet, and design tools for building similar devices of infinite size. I'm probably going to try to build a 1:10 scale model of the fearsome WARWOLF trebuchet as my next step, and this device can throw a one-pound weight up to 100 feet. WARWOLF was the feared siege engine built by King Edward "Longshanks" to subjugate the Scotts in the 1300's, (yeah, the guy from "Braveheart") an any further discussion of his contributions to history should be directed to the llamas, who've forgotten more about these topics than I know. This is the point where "my fist-swinging intersects with someone else's face". Our house in town is on a 66' by 132' lot, and due to the lack of "elbow room" inherent in living around other non-siege engine fans, this device will probably be banished to the farm, and possibly hauled on a trailer to family events where "Crazy Uncle Russ" can supervise all the in-law spawn in their hurling endeavors.

Now don't get me wrong - a trebuchet that could launch a 1962 Buick 1000 feet downrange makes me giddy as a schoolgirl because, like I mentioned early in the article....I'm a guy. The problem with that device is it's sheer size. The guys with Thor in Texas were talking about spending upwards of $50 grand to get it off the ground, and considering that A.) they never actually got it to work as far as I can tell, and B.) that figure is in unadjusted 1995 dollars, and probably is as accurate as asking your aunt "so, how much did you lose at the casino last week?" or asking a defense contractor "how much would it cost to upgrade the armor on this vehicle another 50%?" - it's become very apparent to me that any attempt to build a device this size would probably require me to add a bedroom and bathroom onto the device, because I'd either be living on it, or IN A VAN, DOWN BY THE RIVER. With that in mind, it isn't unreasonable to consider building a device that could launch a bowling ball 500 feet, or a small pumpkin 1000 feet.

The best part about this new gift is that consent has been implied. It's not as if I came home schnockered one night and told her "Hey, honeybunny, look what I've got!"

The "New" Civility?!

Partisan politics is, well, partisan, i.e., polarizing. Each camp looks around and declares: "Either you are for us or against us."

I have a confession: I like Angelina Jolie.

Yes, she is sexy and attractive.

No, her politics are not my own; however, she is also damned smart and a woman of conviction.

I am not in the least interested in her bisexuality or even her relationship with that bit of fluff Pitt (however, she may be bringing out the mettle of conviction in him).

I applaud her work as a UN Ambassador (even though I think that institution is dated and ineffective) because she has been able to bring exposure to blighted areas of the world and make even my jaded heart care about the children afflicted. I further commend her willingness to adopt children in dire need of good care and loving homes, not to mention food on a regular basis.

In my most humble opinion, her efforts are a net positive, unlike a number of her celebrity colleagues: Sean Penn, Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins, George Clooney, and Barbara Streisand.

Apparently, to this observer, Angelina and Bono are two celebrities who know how to get things done in D. C.

The formula is rather simple, in fact:

1) "ignore(s) the George Clooney, Michael Moore, and Babs strategy of trashing all things Republican"

2) "Instead of blasting the establishment like Barbra Streisand, sending antiwar E-mails like Martin Sheen, or just mouthing off like Ted Nugent, they're working inside the system to get what they want in attention and money"

3) "Avert partisanship and learn the issues"

4) "'You need to know when to keep your mouth shut.' A West Wing bigwig praises the duo for avoiding clichéd name-calling. 'It is the new civility, and it works.'"

So there it is, be a successful celebrity with a cause, do your homework, show that you are concerned and committed. Do not "just show up at an event and smile for the cameras."

Perhaps, there's a lesson in here for all of us.

The Joys of a Well Sunburned Nose

A few quick items before I go and veg in front of the tee vee set.

• 

  This is the view from the in-laws' backyard. Yeah. I know. It sucks to be me.

• Robbo will be pleased to hear that I started Master and Commander today after finishing the interminable Name of the Rose, which I was determined to finish even though that book is like foreplay with a premature ejaculator (and if you don't get what that means, I'm not telling you.) Anyway I'm not very far into M&C but I'm already having a hard time telling why dearest Robbo has a problem with Russell Crowe in the role of Capt. Jack Aubrey.

  {...}The listener farther to the left was a man of between twenty and thirty whose big form overflowed his seat, leaving only a streak of gilt wood to be seen here and there. He was wearing his best uniform---the white lapelled blue coat, white waistcoat, breeches and stockings of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, with the silver medal of the Nile in his buttonhole---and the deep white cuff of his gold-buttoned sleeve beat the time while his bright blue eyes, staring from what would hav been a pink and white face if it had not been so deeply tanned, gazed fixedly at the bow of the first violin.{...}

  Ummm, what's the dealio here, Robbo?

• I got to experience Arizona viticulture today. We did a tour of wineries in this area and while two out of three sucked bullets, the third was truly something to write home about. Callaghan Vineyards. If you have room for storage, buy their wines. I really mean that. Their wine is nice to taste---and I did enjoy tasting a few---this is wine that will age BEAUTIFULLY. And I really mean that. A few years in glass will do wonders for this stuff---and it's pretty damn good to begin with.

  I tried the 2004 Syrah, Zinfandel and Claire. This Syrah is truly marvelous: rich, full-bodied and spicy, it could give any number of Californians that I've tasted a run for their money. The Zin wasn't as tasty or as impressive as the Syrah---it was a bit on the fruity side---and was a bit weaker than I expected it to be, but it was still quite lovely. The Claire, however, was bloody spectacular. That is a wine that in ten years will be wine you open up to celebrate special occasions, like when babies are born or your children get engaged and you're having a special dinner. It's a wonderful and special wine.

  I know what you're thinking: local winery action, oh joy. That last bit was undoubtedly accompanied by an eye roll, wasn't it? I'm sure it was. Because I know I've thought the same things, but really and truly, Callaghan has the potential to become a very important winery in the years to come. I was floored when I tasted their wines. I was expecting more MD 20/20 that I'd received at the previous two wineries, which shall go unnamed, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Ok. That should do you for now, my devoted Cake Eater readers.

Oh, and my guest bloggers rock!

New Bond Sissygate Scandal Deepens

I swear to God I did not have this planned. But it seems the new Bond has an even more debilitating problem than not knowing his way around a martini, getting his butt kicked on the set, and not being able to drive Bond's Aston Martin... He's afraid of guns:

Last year, Craig admitted he is struggling to overcome his biggest fear to play Bond - he's terrified of guns.

The star will have to handle weapons in the film but said he was left petrified after seeing a real life bullet wound.

He said at the time: "I hate handguns. They are used to shoot people and as long as they are around, people will shoot each other. I've seen a bullet wound and it was a mess."

Best not let him see this:

James Frickin' Bond, people. This is unbelievable.

Eye Candy For The Ladies

Mmmmm. Hey, it's Friday, and one cannot expect me to be serious or productive on a day like this. Now...gaze upon Mark Darcy lovingly. I command thee.

Aunty Kathy and the Wee One Chronicles, Part I

Wee: “Aunt Kathy, I’ve organized all of your cookbooks.”

Kathy: “You did?!” They were already in alphabetical order…”

Wee: “Oh, I know, but that’s so boring, everyone organizes alphabetically.”

Kathy becoming a tad bit annoyed: “Boring, what do you mean 'boring'? I am not boring.”

With big liquid brown eyes staring at Aunt Kathy, Wee One said nothing.

Kathy, melting a bit: “Oh, that’s fine. Let’s have a look.”

Noting nothing in obvious disarray, Kathy asked: “How did you organize these, by height of book?”

Wee One: “Oh, no, that’s juvenile. I decided to arrange them chronologically based on latest copyright date. I thought about grouping them based on publisher and copyright, but I thought that might be too confusing, at least, for you.”

At that sound of that, The Husband glanced over at Kathy and made a silent mental wager whether the exchange would culminate in physical contact.

Taking the high road, Kathy continued: “Oh, well, that’s very interesting…”

Wee One: “By the way dear Aunt Kathy, I noticed one of your books, the oldest in your collection in fact, was in dire shape, the pages were loose and falling out. I repaired it as best I could with the elements you had available. Ordinarily, I would prefer to use clear archival tape for a project such as that; however, all I could find from your spouse’s tool box was black electrical tape.”

With that, the child pulled a well used and somewhat lumpy copy of “The White House Cookbook” from behind her back and presented it to her hostess.

As she numbly retrieved the copy from the child’s small hands, The Husband interjected: “Come over here, Wee One. Let me show you my rope collection. I bet you don’t know how to untie a Gallows Knot…”

To be continued.

We're Heeeere

Man, am I tired.

Suffice it to say, it has been one exceedingly long day. I won't bore you with the minute details, other than...in order:

• Today was a first for me: I was actually on a domestic flight that had a movie. Wow. I watched I Walk the Line and wasn't really all that impressed with Joaquin and Reese's emoting because I couldn't see them hardly at all with the glare on the screen.
• The In-N-Out was wonderful, thank you very much. It was made even better by the fact that we ate it outside. It was seventy degrees and sunny. YEAH!
• I mentioned that the in-laws now live in a suburb of Nogales. This is about two and a half hours south of Phoenix, where we flew into (with the encouragement of the in-laws), which meant a lengthy drive after flying a very long way. Desert is interesting to look at for, oh, about five minutes. Then it's "If you've seen one mountain dotted with brush and cactii, you've seen them all." The strip mining leftovers south of Tucson actually broke up the monotony of tumbleweeds, cactii and Joshua trees.

  I feel the need to berate Arizonans for one thing, though: YOU PEOPLE ARE FILTHY BUGGERS!

  I have NEVER EVER seen so much litter along the roadside in my life. It was absolutely disgusting. Every three feet there was paper, or styrofoam containers or whatever else people could throw out of their cars at high speed. I wondered why it seemed the desert by the side of the road was glittering, but it wasn't anything magical, it was the sun reflecting off broken glass. It was disgusting, and I was so NOT impressed.

I am now going to go and soak the airline woes away and then I'm going to sleep the sleep of the righteous.

Popping In

Hiya, to all you Cakeleteers! Kathy asked me to drop in from time to time while she's away to clean up llama poop or something. I'm inferring here. The mission statement wasn't entirely clear, but I distinctly remember llamas were mentioned.

At least my mission wasn't clear before I read the official sayonara. I notice that I'm apparently assigned "laid back ponderings." That's quite a relief. Beats the poop out of poop detail.

Unfortunately, nothing especially ponderable comes to mind at the moment. Or rather nothing that goes along well with "laid back," because, let's face it, that's just a polite way of saying "lazy." Not that I'm arguing the point, mind you. I mean, especially as I struggle to find the energy to write about anything that characterization seems almost too perfect.

In lieu of pondering I'll point out the amazing parallels between Kathy and myself.

Kathy grew up in Omaha. I was born in Omaha.
Kathy has a blog. I have a blog.
Kathy drinks wine. I drink wine.

It's like we're practically the same person! Except for that male/female thing. Plus I think I weigh slightly more than her. But that's gotta be because I'm taller. And fatter.

Anyway, while Kathy is away I vow to remain on top of any breaking news regarding The Pussy Bond (TM). My guess for the next shocking development is that he'll ask for a little paper umbrella in his martini.

Because I Can

Mmmmm....Emma Woodhouse.....Mmmmmmm.......

"Morituri Te Salutant!"

This is way cool: Reuters is carrying a piece today about forensic studies done on the remains of gladiators found in tombs near Ephesus in Turkey which supports the notion that gladiatorial combats were carried out pursuant to a code of conduct.

Injuries to the front of each skull suggested that each opponent used just one type of weapon per bout of face-to-face contact, two Austrian researchers report in a paper to be published in Forensic Science International.

Savage violence and mutilation, typical of battlefields 2,000 years ago, were out of order.

And the losers appear to have died quickly.

Despite the fact that most gladiators wore helmets, 10 of the remains showed the fighters had died of squarish hammer-like blows to the side of the head, possibly the work of a backstage executioner who finished off wounded losers after the fight.

The report confirms the picture given of battles in the arena by Roman artwork, which suggests gladiators were well matched and followed rules enforced by two referees.

I expect this had as much to do with the economics of such spectacles as anything else - training and maintaining a first-class gladiator was a pretty expensive proposition and it would have been in everyone's best interest not to run the risk of throwing away such a valuable asset in an out-of-control free-for-all. If I recall my classical civ correctly, the more lawless bloodbaths in the arena usually involved criminals, prisoners and (from the Roman point of view) other more expendable riff-raff.

Yips! to Scribal Terror.

(Cross-posted from Llama Central because I know Kathy is a fellow Latin geek.)

Good Morning

Hello Cake Eater fans. I thought I'd better come in early and introduce myself before the Llamas start spitting on the drapery and shedding on the furniture (I've been off the farm long enough that I have no interest in cleaning up llama poo). My name is Russ, I'm from Winterset, and I am so creatively challenged that I use my name & location as an internet handle.

Kathy and I became acquainted last year when she stumbled upon a series of dispatches I filed from the Big 12 basketball tournament in Kansas City. My drunken homage to Hunter S. Thompson made Kathy snicker, and she threw a shout out to a fellow Iowa State grad over at the Llama's pad. I consumed a beer for her at Kelly's, and the empty cup went on to appear in a series of traveling photos. I've done a few posts as a guest at Blonde Sagacity, but since mid-fall I've been in the grips of a bad case of blogging ennui, and my muse has been silenced. When Kathy asked me to help fill in during her vacation, I jumped at the chance to reinvigorate my schtick.

I've always struggled with finding my niche on blogs. Kathy's advice is to tackle topics that interest you, and don't worry about trying to be Stephen Hawking, Stephen Ambrose, or even Steven Tyler - just be yourself. OK, but be careful what you ask for. I'll try to relive my old high school class clown act for you, mainly because I can't compete with the other guests in obscure Royal Navy trivia (sooper sekret message to the llamas: Jack Aubrey? I've got one word for you, boyz - EXOCET!) and sexy hotness (whenever I have bedhead, it's never sexy. It's more of an "eraserhead meets Reverend Jim" visual).

Take the jump to the extended entry if you want to get my opinion on the winter olympics.

I'm old enough to remember the 1980 Lake Placid games (my 12th birthday was four days before the "Miracle on Ice" game), and the memories of Herb Brooks' underdogs and Eric Heiden tearing up the ice in the speed events are my favorite Winter Olympic moments.

The Turin games (Torino? I can't use that name. One of my high school buddies had a Torino, and the memory of a fumbling attempt at sexual congress with a cutie in the backseat of that beast makes me reluctant to associate that word with an Olympic event.) are interesting, but I've had a hard time getting up for the games. Part of the problem is the time lag, because it's hard to avoid the news all day so that the events are "plausibly live" during prime time.

Another problem seems to be that I just don't care. Really. Don't care. Ice dancing? That Ukranian woman must have raided Jenna Jamison's wardrobe before her routine, but I can get that anywhere. Don't care. Ski jumping? Since "Eddie the Eagle" retired, the odds of another "agony of defeat" moment have significantly receded, and I find myself flipping channels looking for a craptacular "made for the SciFi channel movie" or even a good infomercial. Don't care. Hockey? Ever since they opened it up to pros, I've had a hard time getting into the puck, which is a shame. The '02 games in Utah had great stories (I especially liked the dominance of the Russian goalie Khabibuhlin, because "the 'Buhlin Wall" is such a kickass nickname), but these games haven't really tripped my trigger yet. Maybe I'd feel different if the US or even Canada were doing better, but who knows?

The only events I've had any interest in so far (besides our loss to the Swedes in hockey) are bobsled and the half-pipe (insert your own bong joke here).

My wife, on the other hand, is absolutely head over heels in love with these games. She insists on catching all the coverage every night, and I tried to play along for a couple of days, but I just couldn't fake it. I know I'm missing some great performances, but it's just not worth sitting through all those "profiles in self-importance" they use for filler in order to get to the Good Stuff.

My laptop battery is dying now, so I'll save the rest of my rant for an update once I get to work. TTFN.

Vacation's All I Ever Wanted...

Well, kids, the husband and I are going on vacation tomorrow morning.

At the crack of my ass dawn tomorrow morning, we shall board a plane for exotic and glamorous...Cincinatti.

Which is exciting, no?

Yeah, I know. Don't let your enthusiasm burst a button on your trousers or anything.

Have no fear, my devoted Cake Eater readers, that's not our final destination. We shall then catch a connection to warm and sunny Phoenix, Arizona, where we will stay for as long as it takes me to satisfy my In-N-Out jones. Then we shall get on the freeway and head south. WAY south. Past Tucson. To border country, where the in-laws just moved.

At that point the plan is that the husband and I are going to soak up as much sun and eighty-degree temperatures as we possibly can while we hang out with his family. If any satellites are downed from orbit whilst we're on vacation, it'll be my fault. Because I have some white, white legs going on currently. I apologize in advance for reflecting light back into space and damaging sensitive electronic equipment. Really, I don't know what I was thinking.

Anyway... I'm sure you, my devoted Cake Eater readers are wondering what's in store for you during my vacation. You see, I could leave you high and dry for five days, but I decided I wouldn't do that to you because you are, indeed, my devoted Cake Eater readers. I didn't want you all reverting to the Asian lesbian pr0n that you surfed before you found me. So, I recruited guest bloggers. Lots and lots of guest bloggers.

Aren't I thoughtful?

Yes, I know. You can thank me later when you read the dramatic stylings of Chrissy from JustDotChristina; the wicked humor of Agent Bedhead; the laid back ponderings of Bogus Doug; and, of course, the general wackiness of my dear pals Robbo and Steve, the Llamabutchers.

You, my devoted Cake Eater readers, also need to extend a warm welcome to a n00b who's making his HMTL debut: rabid commenter, Russ from Winterset, who will, in a few short weeks, be traveling to Dallas for the Big Twelve Tourney in his capacity as the Cake Eater Basketball Correspondent. Give him a warm welcome and a really hard time, because undoubtedly the power of the post will go to his head.

I will have the laptop with me, but I don't expect too much time for posting, as I will be making a concentrated effort to down satellites with my lack of pigmentation. I might pop in. I might not. You'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Have a good week, kids, and I'll see you next Thursday if not sooner.

It Just Keeps Getting Better

While I shouldn't judge, because I can't drive a stick, either---and am generally of the belief that if God gave someone the impetus to invent the automatic transmission, it would be a shame not to use it---it nonetheless would seem as if that's pretty basic goddamned information for James Bond to know---or, as in this case, anyone playing James Bond.

{...}The latest hitch on the set of "Casino Royale," the new 007 flick, reportedly occurred when the star revealed he couldn't drive the super-suave superspy's trademark Aston Martin. Craig, 37, found himself shaken, not stirred, when he was confronted with a manual gearshift instead of an automatic, British newspapers said today.{...}

I mean, honestly. Every single Bond film has an extended car chase sequence in it. Every single Bond film shows Bond driving. And every single Bond car has a manual transmission. Where, exactly, did Daniel Craig get the idea that Bond would suddenly be driving a automatic? Particularly since Aston Martin's are hand built and the Vanquish model, which was the last Bond car in Die Another Day, does not have an option for an automatic transmission?

Well, there's no denying it now: he's The Pussy Bond (TM). Any leeway I ws prepared to grant him because of Layer Cake is now gone. Ghandi. Poof. Disappeared into the ether.

{Hat tip: Chrissy}

Exactly

YESYESYESYESYESYES!

{...}Some of us are scratching our heads all right, but we're wondering why Mr. Graham and others believe Dubai Ports World has been insufficiently vetted for the task at hand. So far, none of the critics have provided any evidence that the Administration hasn't done its due diligence. The deal has been blessed by the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States, a multiagency panel that includes representatives from the departments of Treasury, Defense and Homeland Security.

Yes, some of the 9/11 hijackers were UAE citizens. But then the London subway bombings last year were perpetrated by citizens of Britain, home to the company (P&O) that currently manages the ports that Dubai Ports World would take over. Which tells us three things: First, this work is already being outsourced to "a foreign-based company"; second, discriminating against a Mideast company offers no security guarantees because attacks are sometimes homegrown; and third, Mr. Graham likes to talk first and ask questions later.

Besides, the notion that the Bush Administration is farming out port "security" to hostile Arab nations is alarmist nonsense. Dubai Ports World would be managing the commercial activities of these U.S. ports, not securing them. There's a difference. Port security falls to Coast Guard and U.S. Customs officials. "Nothing changes with respect to security under the contract," Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld said yesterday. "The Coast Guard is in charge of security, not the corporation."

{...}Critics also forget, or conveniently ignore, that the UAE government has been among the most helpful Arab countries in the war on terror. It was one of the first countries to join the U.S. container security initiative, which seeks to inspect cargo in foreign ports. The UAE has assisted in training security forces in Iraq, and at home it has worked hard to stem terrorist financing and WMD proliferation. UAE leaders are as much an al Qaeda target as Tony Blair.

{...}So the same Democrats who lecture that the war on terror is really a battle for "hearts and minds" now apparently favor bald discrimination against even friendly Arabs investing in the U.S.? Guantanamo must be closed because it's terrible PR, wiretapping al Qaeda in the U.S. is illegal, and the U.S. needs to withdraw from Iraq, but these Democratic superhawks simply will not allow Arabs to be put in charge of American longshoremen. That's all sure to play well on al Jazeera.{...}

{emphasis mine}

While I've quoted liberally from this, please go and read the whole thing anyway.

I tried to pull my thoughts together on this whole deal last night but I couldn't: I was too angry at all the stupidity and grandstanding involved to get everything down in a coherent fashion. I'm glad for that because the Wall Street Journal editorial board did a much better job than I ever could have.

This whole controversy is manufactured. And it's been manufactured by people who are looking after American commercial interests, and then it was picked up by Hillary Clinton's people for the purpose of proving she's a hawk in time for re-election to her senate seat. That's it. And everyone has fallen for it, including Congressional Republicans who have a few electoral hopes and dreams of their own for 2008 and who are now in open rebellion against their president again over an issue that they're bound to lose. Did you hear me or do I need to repeat that again? Bush will win this one. It'll be ugly, but he'll win. This is not another Harriet Miers scenario. How could it be? All the facts are on Bush's side. The worm is already starting to turn on this issue. And this worm has teeth: it will come back to bite anyone who argues against the sale because that's the stupid, uninformed position to take.

None of this, of course, really gets into the first class xenophobia and, in some instances, flat-out bigotry on display here. While most Middle Eastern men do wear dishdashas and ghoutras, and this makes them look all alike, really and truly, you should be able to tell the good guys from the bad guys by now.

Or at least you should be able to if you want to comment on this matter without looking like an idiot.

The UAE is a liberalized country in the Middle East that we want to be associated with. It is in their best interests to foil Al-Qaeda as much as we would. They buy arms from us. They have some of the most innovative examples of free trade going on. Their oil runs out in 2010 and their leaders have done their best to make sure there is an economy for their people when this unhappy event occurs. They did this to make sure radical Islam did not gain a foothold within their country. To lump the UAE in with Saudi Arabia---which has done precisely the opposite in terms of building an infrastructure, liberalizing trade, and encouraging education---or Syria, or any number of repressive Arab countries is the worst of mistakes not only because it's a political boo-boo, but because it threatens our national security down the road by taking chickenhawk potshots at an ally who's done nothing but help us in the War on Terror.

This editorial ends with the hope that Bush means it when he says he's going to veto any legislation that would prevent this sale: I hope he means it too, and if he doesn't follow through on it, I will, again, wonder why I voted for him.

Asshole on Ice

Chad Hedrick is a complete and utter ass.

I hate him.

I hate his big, freshly fake enameled teeth. I want him to fall and break one of those suckers right off.

I hate how he makes sure all his Nike branded gear is front and center for the camera every time he weasles his way in front of one. I hate how he always tries to make eye contact with the camera, like he's got an imporant message for all the folks at home. I hate how he changed his hat right before he got his medal to make sure Nike was getting their money's worth. You're about to get a gold medal and THIS is what you're thinking of? Make sure the sponsors are being taken care of? Then you have the GALL to bitch at Shani Davis for favoring himself over his country because he chose not to participate in the team pursuit? What THE fuck is the matter with you, Chad? Patriotism at the Olympics is apparently only important to you when you can win more gold, eh? THEN you expect us to believe that's not the case? That's bullshit.

I hate how he apparently listened to his PR people and came up with a "story" to make his gold medal seem more important. The day he won was "the thirteenth anniversary of his grandma's death." The THIRTEENTH anniversary of his grandma's death. THIRTEENTH. She'd been dead a pretty long time, don't you think, to create such a maelstrom of emotion in her grandson? I wonder what he was like on the first anniversary of her death. He must have been prostrate with grief for days. If that day hadn't been the thirteenth anniversary of his grandma's death, I'm pretty sure he would have come up with some story about how his dog had been run over by a car back home and he was worried about fido. Or how it was a year ago today that his girlfriend broke up with him. OR had refused to give him head or something equally stupid. If he was actually torn up about his grandma's death, then I'm tall enough to reach the top shelves in my kitchen cupboards---which I'm not, just in case you were wondering. Someone told him he needed a story, so he came up with one. It's all bullshit.

I hate everything about him. He's a Grade A Prime Shithead. I sincerely hope he bombs his last race. He's a poor sportsman and an even worse American.

He's the dumb asshole the rest of the world thinks all Americans are, and I, for one, am ashamed to have him representing my country at the Olympics.

Boogie Tuesday

I've got other things to do around here this afternoon, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, but, lest you think I don't love you, I leave you with a bit of Fatboy Slim to liven up this bleak Tuesday afternoon.

Now...I command you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, to shake that thing!

Silly

Hey Mom, you'll want to call Dad in for these. He'll enjoy them.

The rest of you, well, you should just take the jump.

Good Tee Vee Alert

Just a friendly reminder for all my fellow House junkies: it's airing this evening, at 7p.m. CST, instead of at its regularly scheduled time on Tuesdays.

Some stupid show that nobody with half a brain watches---coughAmerican Idolcough---- is responsible for this idiotic, but fortunately temporary, move.

As The Cake Eater Mother Would Say

Offer up your suffering for all the poor souls in purgatory.

It's All in the Interpretation

This isn't incredibly interesting, but rather just needs to be pointed out so we're all aware.

Exiled Saudi dissident Osama bin Laden is seen in this April 1998 picture in Afghanistan. American officials said they are looking at Bin Laden for involvement in the Friday, Aug. 7, 1998 Kenyan and Tanzanian U.S. embassy explosions. He has threatened a holy war against U.S. troops and Americans, and is suspected of backing other terrorist acts, including the 1996 attack in Saudi Arabia. (AP Photo)

{emphasis mine}

So, Osama's an "exiled Saudi dissident." He has "threatened" holy war.

And, really and truly, he's just a misunderstood, psuedo-intellectual anarchist who spends most of his time reading Marx and Engels in the college library whilst sporting a jauntily tipped beret and whispering "Vive La Revolucion!" under his breath like a deranged Tourette's sufferer.

In the Immortal Words of Steve Dallas

"DON'T SUE PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY"

This is, apparently, a rule which Mike Hatch, the Minnesota AG follows to the letter. Otherwise why would he be suing Pfizer and Merck on behalf of the great State of Minnesota to recoup the costs of cleaning up meth labs?

{...}Hatch said he plans to sue giant international drugmakers such as Pfizer and Merck on grounds that they long have known that large quantities of their legal products have been diverted to illegal meth labs, spurring an epidemic of addiction, crime and shattered lives across America.

It is a step likely to stir opposition, especially in an election year when the DFL attorney general is a leading candidate to challenge Republican Gov. Tim Pawlenty. Drugmakers say Hatch's plan would penalize makers of valued medicines for others' misuse of their products.

"I'm sure it's controversial," Hatch said. "But we've got to be serious about this. This industry essentially lied to the American public. They're clearly dumping [meth ingredients] in a way that allows creation of this illegal substance."

{...}Hatch noted, however, that the companies "strenuously opposed legislation that would have made their products more difficult to obtain."

Hatch said he will seek enabling legislation to assist the courtroom assault -- including extending the drugmakers' liability six years into the past -- an idea that got a chilly reception from Republican leaders.

Hatch suggested, however, that he could move ahead without legislation, adding that "current law already provides legal theories for recovery of costs caused by meth from the manufacturers and suppliers of pseudoephedrine and ephedrine."{...}

{my emphasis}

Is this sounding vaguely familiar to you all?

{Insert the sound of Kath repeatedly slamming her head on her desk here}

Of course you know what's coming, don't you?

In a related move, the legislature, under prompting from Governor Pawlenty, decided to institute a seventy-five-cent per box "fee" on cold medicine because the cost of cleaning up meth labs is apparently as good an excuse as any for the legislature to raise some moolah for some other arm of government to spend.

When Pawlenty was called on his behavior, he scoffed, "Well, you know, I don't, I'm not a big fan of growing revenues through new mechanisms like this as I hope I've proven as governor but the bottom line was we had a historic government shutdown we had to find common ground and compared to the alternatives of the Democrats wanting to tax everything including income and business taxes and a variety of other things. This was the least offensive. And the good news is other states have done it and meth making has decreased dramatically, and so this has a health benefit as well."

Just you wait.

All I Want For Christmas...

...is my two front teeth.

Yeah, I know. I went there. My bad.

{Insert slapping of hand here}

Dear Daniel's off to an auspicious start, though, eh? At this rate, he'll probably spontaneously combust when he hits the first of the love scenes.

{Hat tip: Chrissy}

And a Good One At That

...as in Martini Boy's bartender has a good question for the mainstream media in light of their apparent decision to keep beating the Cheney SHOT someone drum.

It's better than good, really. I'd say it's an absolutely crucial question that needs answering toute suite.

Yawn

If the mainstream media is tired of blogs being hailed as the next big thing, or the new revolution, well, I'm tired of reporters thinking Ana Marie Cox actually knows anything outside her milieu of anal sex.

If the blogosphere is, as so many say, just a million monkeys typing, well, what is it when reporters for many mainstream media publications manage to pump out the same damn article over and over again?

Just wondering.

Compare and Contrast Time: Commercials with Celebrities

I've been forced to suffer this Jessica Simpson Pizza Hut ad more times than I can count in recent days, and, quite frankly, I've had it. If I didn't hate Pizza Hut before---and really, I didn't---this one commercial has put me off Pizza Hut for the rest of my life. I will never again order a pizza from the hut. That's how much I hate Jessica Simpson.

Lest you think I'm a killjoy in the celebrity endorsement department, I present to you an ad Sir Anthony Hopkins did for Barclay's Bank about six years ago. I actively searched the internet for this video. I asked for help when I couldn't find it. This ad was memorable. It made an impact. And, most importantly, it was well made. I'm sure Anthony received a "What's the word?" fee for his work because he sold Barclays well. The unfortunate thing is that Jessica Simpson was probably paid just as much, if not more, than Sir Anthony for her "work," if you can call it that.

Will anyone remember the Pizza Hut commercial, though, in six years?

To My Maple Leaf Toting Neighbors to the North

Close the frickin' back door already, would you?

BITTER WIND CHILLS TODAY.

ARCTIC AIR CONTINUES TO POUR INTO THE UPPER MIDWEST THIS
MORNING. TEMPERATURES HAD PLUMMETED INTO THE SINGLE DIGITS BELOW ZERO OVER PARTS OF WEST CENTRAL WISCONSIN AND SOUTH CENTRAL MINNESOTA AND AROUND 20 BELOW ZERO IN WEST CENTRAL MINNESOTA NEARALEXANDRIA. NORTHWEST WINDS OF 15 TO 20 MPH WERE PRODUCING WIND CHILLS OF 38 TO 45 BELOW ZERO.

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN TWIN CITIES/CHANHASSEN HAS ISSUED A WIND CHILL WARNING FOR MUCH OF WEST CENTRAL MINNESOTA...WHICH IS IN EFFECT UNTIL 1 PM CST THIS AFTERNOON. THE WARNING AREA IS ROUGHLY NORTH OF A PROVIDENCE TO COSMOS LINE...AND WEST OF VINELAND TO ST CLOUD TO KINGSTON. THIS REGION WILL REVERT BACK TO A WIND CHILL ADVISORY AFTER 1 PM CST AND EXTEND TO 5 PM CST.

A WIND CHILL ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT TODAY FOR THE REMAINDER OF CENTRAL AND SOUTH CENTRAL MINNESOTA...AND FOR WEST CENTRAL WISCONSIN. WIND CHILL VALUES OF 30 TO 45 BELOW CAN BE ANTICIPATED. THE MOST DANGEROUS WIND CHILLS WILL BE FOUND OVER WEST CENTRAL MINNESOTA WHERE VALUES COULD APPROACH 45 BELOW ZERO.

It's currently fourteen below zero. Surprisingly enough, news crews in New York City aren't predicting the end of the world, either. I don't suppose they know about it because, ahem, it's not happening right in front of their faces.

No matter, but the Canadians really need to get on the stick and close the damn back door to the Arctic already.

UPDATE: Doug has related thoughts.

Milestones

Sometime today, the sitemeter over yonder will roll over 100,000 hits.

Now, I know more than 100K people have been to the Cake Eater Chronicles because the server stats tell me so. (For every hit the sitemeter registers, the server stats tell me there are two that it doesn't catch. You can do the math.) But, the sitemeter, for a very long time, was all I had. And even though I have fancy stats, technorati and the ecosystem, it's sometimes the only way I know who's coming here and why---and it never ceases being fun seeing what some of you freaks typed into Google that brought you here. It's also nice seeing regular readers in the logs, because, well, it means you keep coming back for more.

Anyway, since it's 12:30 and I want to go to bed, I'll stop rambling about stats and say "thank you" to my devoted Cake Eater Readers, who will turn that thing over because you are, in fact, devoted.

Gratuitous Llama Heckling Post

Robbo's at it again with the historical naval postings.

On the Fox Report this evening, they covered the same event and I mentioned to the husband that Robbo, being the landlubber naval history geek that he is, had posted about it as well. (C'mon kids: it's not everyday you get two doses of arcane naval history, is it?) The husband then proceeded to ask when Robbo's biography of Admiral Halsey, titled The Fighting Sailor was going to be released.*

Accordingly, I laughed like a loon and figured out precisely who Robbo wants to be when he grows up. Although, he's serving in the wrong part of government and needs to move over to Langley to keep pace.

*bonus points to whomever gets the reference.

Shots of the Inexpensive Variety

Wham!

"Look at what happened to James Frey in the last two weeks. That's a great book and so is the follow-up book. And just because his publisher chose to say that these were memoirs, it took it out of being a great work of fiction... to this guy having to go be sucker punched on Oprah by one of the most powerful women in television, just to grind her own axe about it. Hey, Oprah. You had President (Bill Clinton) on your show and if this prick didn't lie about a couple of things, I'm going to set myself on fire right now. James Frey is a writer, OK? He can write about whatever he wants. It's fiction. It's just shameful how he was treated in some of these things."

{emphasis mine}

Now, I disagree with Bruce on most of this. Personally I think James Frey got what he deserved. He lied. He did it in a big, fat, egregious way, he reaped huge benefits from lying, and he expected to get away with it: he was just dumb enough to think he'd get a fair shake on Oprah's show after she'd been reamed by the critics for a week and a half. Her name is her brand, which is worth billions of dollars; she's not going to lay that on the line for you, James. She's just not going to. That would be dumb, which, whatever else you want to call Oprah---bitch is at the top of the list for me---is not a good descriptor for her. Also, I'm not really quite sure what dear ol' Bruno is talking about when he refers to Frey's books as "fiction" because while it's apparent that's what they are now, they were published and sold as memoirs. (Which, of course, leads to a whole 'nother conversation we could be having about the standards of fiction publishing nowadays, and if this book was flushed as fiction, but bought by as a memoir---both by the same freakin' editor at Random House who basically got a pass on Oprah's show---well, Lucy, you gots some 'splainin to do, but we'll choose to avoid going there for the sake of expediency.)

Yet... I'm relishing the exceedingly enjoyable shot he scored against Oprah's bloated sense of self-righteousness using Bubba Clinton as a hockey puck.

We've got a word for that here in Cake Eater Land: GOOOOOAAAAAALLLL!

{hat tip: The Evening Star}

Olympic Spirit!

Two things relating to the Winter Olympics.

• The husband has suddenly taken to watching curling every day. Now, the husband grew up in freakin' Iowa: like most people who grew up south of the forty-fifth parallel, he has absolutely no idea what is going on in this game. It's not like he cares, though, either. At five o'clock, he's in front of the tee vee, watching and rooting on whichever American team is playing. Currently the women's team is playing Sweden.

  I wonder if these two have had any influence on his decision to watch.

  

  Methinks the answer is "yes." I believe his nonchalance was feigned when I told him they weren't twins.

• Bryant Gumbel is a racist sack of shit.

Pwned

Don't f@3k with grandma.

A Request

This is going to sound really, really odd, but I'm jonesing to see a particular commercial.

My devoted UK/Worldwide Cake Eater Readers might know what I'm talking about when I link this article and say, "I want the Anthony Hopkins one, thanks ever so much."

Unfortunately, I can't find the bloody thing anywhere on the internets. The husband got serious and really did some down and dirty searching on usenet this afternoon, and he didn't have any luck either. Same with searches of many different torrents, limewire, etc.

If anyone happens to know where I can find a copy of this ad, I'd be forever in your debt. Drop me an email or leave a comment.

Thanks in advance!

Glorious

You know, before I settled into my political science major at college, I had a good whack at art history. It didn't work out because, in their all-encompassing wisdom, the College of Design at Iowa State demanded that you be able to draw if you wanted to be in their stinking college. No, really, I'm not bitter about it. Sniff. Anyway...I did manage to cram in a bunch of art and design history classes and as such, on occasion, I'm usually able to pull arcane bits and bobs about famous buildings out of my you-know-where.

But I will admit to being flummoxed when I saw the aerial photos of Turin...

...and had no idea what this building was.

If Bob Costas mentioned it, I missed it. So, I decided to figure it out. I assumed it was a cathedral---a Catholic cathedral, of course, this is Italy, after all---but I was wrong. It never was a cathedral, but was originally built to be a synagogue. It's called La Mole Antonelliana.

According to Wikipedia:

The Mole Antonelliana is a major architectural symbol of the city of Turin, Italy. It is named for the architect who built it, Alessandro Antonelli. Construction began in 1863.

Originally, it was intended to be a Jewish synagogue, as religious freedom had just been granted to non-Catholic groups, but the relationship between Antonelli and the Jewish community was not a happy one. He immediately began to propose a series of modifications which raised the final height to 113 meters--over 47 meters higher than the dome in the original design. Such changes, in addition to greater costs and construction time than were originally anticipated, did not please the Jewish community and construction was halted in 1869 with a provisional roof. In 1873 an exchange with the city of Turin for other land for a synagogue took place, and the Mole was dedicated to Victor Emanuel II. Antonelli again began construction, which took the height to 146, 153, and finally 167 meters.

167 meters=547.9 feet. That's almost two football fields. Built without the help of reinforced concrete. Don't try this at home, kids.

It's now the home of the Italian national cinema museum.

I love the lines on it. It's neat and tidy; clean and cool. It looks so solid, like it would scoff one of its particularly well-built shoulders at anyone who would dare to suggest it could possibly fall down. The spire is particularly interesting, too, if you take a good look. At the base of the spire is (what looks to be) a two-storey, classical-style temple that I really enjoy looking at and wondering about. Could you really chat with the gods and goddesses if you managed to swing a ladder all the way up there? You'd be close enough, after all; it should be possible if you followed the theory behind the choice of the Acropolis for the Parthenon.

Enjoy looking at it. I know I have.

Mansfield Park-ish*

Mmmmhmmm.

{...}Seriously, I would say I can't believe anyone would even consider seeing a Pink Panther movie that didn't have Peter Sellers, but we are talking about the country that thinks Keira Knightley is a good choice to star in Pride and Prejudice.{...}

A-bloody-men!

{Hat Tip: Russ from Winterset}

*I was going to title this post, of course, Sense and Sensibility but I decided I'd probably pulled that trick one time too many so I just threw in the first Austen novel title that came to mind. Of course that was after I threw out variations of Persuasion and, obviously, Pride and Prejudice. Amazingly enough, I never got the opprortunity to boycott Emma because, well, she just didn't come to mind. At all. Now that's a memorable character for you, eh, Robbo? Eh? Eh?

It Ain't Easy Being Green

You Are Kermit

Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies!

{Hat Tip: Animal}

It's Time to Play...

It Could Only Happen in Russia!

{...}Perhaps nothing symbolises quite so potently the gulf between Russia's uber classes and the rest of the country as the flashing blue siren, or migalka, affixed to the top of the elite's chauffeur-driven luxury cars.

A hangover from Soviet times, the migalka confers on its owner the right to roar down the wrong side of the road at high speed, often disregarding traffic lights and careering on to pavements.

{...}Protests were also held over the weekend in 17 other cities, one of the most co-ordinated exhibitions of public anger seen in Russia in recent years.

"The blue light should be the preserve of the emergency services, not a badge of immunity for the elite and their relatives and friends," said Katya Zhitkovskaya, a manager who took part in one of the Moscow demonstrations.

The Kremlin claims it has started to clamp down on the issue, awarding migalkas only to the emergency services, senior government officials, judges and members of the Russian parliament.

But Vyacheslav Lysakov, head of the Free Choice Motorist's Movement that organised the protests, said the migalka was still freely available to those prepared to pay a £30,000 bribe for one - or for those with political connections.

Migalka owners are blamed for adding to Russia's horrific death toll on the roads - 95 people are killed in road accidents every day in Russia and 700 more are injured.

Giving the campaign a political tinge the protesters highlighted two cases.

In the first, a Siberian railway worker, Oleg Shcherbinsky, was jailed for four years last week after a judge ruled he was to blame for the death of a regional governor in a car accident because he did not get out of the way quickly enough.

Shcherbinsky said he did not see the governor's migalka limousine, which was allegedly travelling down the wrong side of the road at over 100mph, as he attempted a left turn.

The second involved the eldest son of Sergei Ivanov, the defence minister, who was travelling in a car last year that killed a 68-year-old woman on a zebra crossing. Charges against Alexander Ivanov were quietly dropped.{...}

I'm surprised. Really. Not about the extent of the corruption in supposedly democratic Russia, but rather that the people actually protested about it. In the middle of February no less.

Way to get off your collective ass, people!

Touchy Touchy

Check out this super coo-el touch screen demo.

{Hat tip: Boing Boing}

Talking Back to Conversation Hearts, 5

Whatever title floats your boat, baby.

Representative Government

So, last week at the Cake Eater Pad we got a survey from our state representative about the upcoming legislative session. Now, because I'm all about the power of the people, I wanted to fill it out and send it in.

Until I realized that my duly elected state representative, Ron Erhardt---whom I voted for---decided that if I wanted to have my say, I was going to have to shell out $0.39 for postage. As you might expect, my devoted Cake Eater readers, that irked me.

So, because I don't feel I should have to pay for postage to let my duly elected state representative know how I feel on issues he thinks should be raised this legislative session, I filled out the survey and posted it here.

Clicket for larger.

Don't you just love representative government? I do. Because I get blogging material out of it!

"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties"

{Insert Team America Voice Here} Take that islamofascists!

I, a non-burqua wearing woman, am going to defeat you bastards by drinking beer!

GOD BLESS WESTERN CIVILIZATION!

UPDATE: Mmmm. Victory tastes like Heineken. Only better---meaning it's smoother and more full bodied.

Talking Back to Conversation Hearts, 4

This is code for doing that Bette Midler "Wind Beneath My Wings" thing, isn't it?

Oh, dear.

{Insert grimace here}

You really are twisted, aren't you? And, I might remind you, that you promised I'd never have to do that again. I know you liked it. The point here is that I didn't.

Seriously, darling, I do have my boundaries and I'm invoking them. I just don't think I could face another evening with that on the menu.

Gamers Gots Better Brains?

If you consider multitasking to be important then, yes, gamers probably do have better brains:

{...}A body of research suggests that playing video games provides benefits similar to bilingualism in exercising the mind. Just as people fluent in two languages learn to suppress one language while speaking the other, so too are gamers adept at shutting out distractions to swiftly switch attention between different tasks.

A new study of 100 university undergraduates in Toronto has found that video gamers consistently outperform their non-playing peers in a series of tricky mental tests. If they also happened to be bilingual, they were unbeatable.{...}

Hmmmph.

Doesn't mean they have better social skills, though.

Talking Back to Conversation Hearts, 3

Yeah. I know. I'll let you in on a little secret. My head sometimes aches from the strain of holding all that throbbing gray matter in. Hey, I could be a rapper: "my cranium strains." Throw that down to a funky beat and you've got a Grammy winning single right there! Anyway...I find that a cold compress helps when the pain gets to be too much.

And if that doesn't work, well, a shot of whisky works even better!

Finish the Thought Updated

The renowned French shower-of-chest-hair and intellectual, Bernard-Henri Levy, in today's Opinion Journal:

{...}And, faced with this triangulation in progress, faced with this formidable hate-and-death machine, faced with this "moral atomic bomb," we have no other solution than to counter with another triangle--a triangle of life and reason, which more than ever must unite the United States, Europe and Israel in a rejection of any clash of civilizations of the kind desired by the extremists of the Arab-Muslim world and by them alone.

The heart of this second triangle? First, the affirmation of principles. The affirmation of the press's right to the expression of idiocies of its choosing--rather than the acts of repentance that too many leaders have resorted to, and which merely encourages in the Arab street the false and counterproductive illusion that a democratic state may exert power over its press.

And second, in the same breath, the reaffirmation of our support for those enlightened moderate Muslims who know that the honor of Islam is far more insulted, and trampled under foot, when Iraqi terrorists bomb a mosque in Baghdad, when Pakistani jihadists decapitate Daniel Pearl in the name of God and film their crime, or when an Algerian fundamentalist emir disembowels, while reciting the Quran, an Algerian woman whose only crime was to have dared show her beautiful face. Moderate Muslims are alone these days, and in their solitude they more than ever need to be acknowledged and hailed.

If you subscribe to Christopher Hitchens' notion, as I do, that there is a civil war occuring in Islam between the moderates and the fascists, and that the jihad against Western interests, aka The United States of America, is only an offshoot of that battle, then it really becomes very important to know precisely where the moderate Muslims are, because they're not showing up to the battle. In fact, I have yet to see that they even realize they're at war with those in their religion who would have them brought over to their particular brand of orthodoxy by threat of dismemberment or death---whichever is easier. However, we do hear an awful lot from moderate Muslims when they're afraid they're going to be attacked by westerners. Then they're all about showing that they come in peace.

I am more than willing to support moderate Muslims, but here's the question that really needs answering: where are they right now? This is more their battle than it is mine, yet they are nowhere to be found---except on the internet, posting anonymous apologies.

We talk a good game about getting the Europeans to ante up and realize their civilization is about to collapse under the weight of Islamofascism, but we never hold the moderate Muslims to the same standard, do we?

{Hat Tip on the "We Are Sorry" thing to Pious Rob}

UPDATE: Dorkafork over at INDC sez "the silence is deafening." Make sure you read the comments section.

I'm not sure this does it for me, though.

"The White House Cookbook": Toilet Recipes, Items, Part Three

Making soap, shaving cream, razor strop paste and any number of antidotes to household poisons after the jump.

{Part One, Part Two}

Powdered carbonate of ammonia one ounce, strong solution of ammonia half a fluid ounce, oil of rosemary ten drops, oil of bergamot ten drops. Mix, and while moist put in a wide-mouthed bottle which is to be well closed.

Prepared chalk half a pound, powdered myrrh two ounces; camphor two drachms, orris root, powdered, two ounces; moisten the camphor with alcohol and mix well together.

This preparation is used by dentists. Pure muriatic acid one ounce, water one ounce, honey two ounces, mix thoroughly. Take a tooth-brush, and wet it freely with this preparation, and briskly rub the black teeth, and in a moment they will be perfectly white; then immediately wash out the mouth well with water, that the acid may not act on the enamel of the teeth. This should be done only occasionally.

Bad breath from catarrh, foul stomach, or bad teeth, mau be temporarily relieved by diluting a little bromo chloralum with eight or ten parts of water, and using it as a gargle, and swalling a few drops before going out. A pint of bromo chloralum costs fifty cents, but a small vial will last a long time.

Half a pound of plain, white soap, dissolved in a small quantity of alcohol, as little as can be used; add a tablespoonful of pulverized borax. Shave the soap and put it in a small tin basin or cup; place it on the fire in a dish of boiling water; when melted, add the alcohol, and remove it from the fire; stir in oil of bergamot sufficient to perfume it.

Dissolve half an ounce of carbonate of ammonia and one ounce of borax in one quart of water; then add two ounces of glycerine in three quarts of New England rum, and one quart of bay rum. Moisten the hair with this liquid; shampoo the hands until a light lather is formed; then wash off with plenty of clean water.

Wet the strop with a little sweet oil, and apply a little flour of emery evenly over the surface.

Melt together over a water bath white wax and spermaceti each one ounce, camphor two ounces, sweet almond oil, one pound, then triturate until the mixture had become homogenous, and allow one pound of rose-water to flow in slowly during the operation. Excellent for chapped lips or hands.

Lavender flowers one ounce, pulverized orris, two drachms, bruised rosemary leaves half ounce, musk five grains, attar of rose five drops. Mix well, sew up in small flat muslin bags, and cover them with fancy silk or satin.

These are very nice to keep in your bureau drawers or trunk, as the perfume penetrates through the contents of the trunk or drawers. An acceptable present to present to a single gentleman.

The best way in which to clean hair-brushes is with spirits of ammonia, as its effect is immediate. No rubbing is required, and cold water can be used just as successfully as warm. Take a tablespoonful of ammonia to a quart of water, dip the hair part of the brush without wetting the ivorym and in a moment the grease is removed; then rinse in cold water, shake well, and dry in the air, but not in the sun. Soda and soap soften the bristles and invariably turn the ivory yellow.

Mutton tallow is considered excellent to soften the hands. It may be rubbed on at any time when the hands are perfectly dry, but the best time is when retiring, and an old pair of soft, large gloves throughly covered on the inside with the tallow and glycerine in equal parts, melted together, can be wornd during the night with the most satisfactory results.

Four parts of glycerine and five parts of yolks of eggs thoroughly mixed, and applied after washing the hands is also considered excellent.

For chapped hands or face: One ounce of glycerine, one ounce of alcohol mixed, then add eight ounces of rose-water.

Another good rule is to rub well in dry oatmeal after every washing, and be particular regarding the quantity of soap. Cheap soap and hard water are the unknown enemies of many people, and the cause of rough skin and chapped hands. Castile soap and rain-water will sometimes cure without any other assistance.

Camphor ice is also excellent, and can be appliete with but little inconvenience. Borax dissolved and added ot the toilet water is also good.

For chapped lips, beeswax dissolved in a small quantity of sweet oil, by heating carefully. Apply the salve two or three times a day, and avoid wetting the lips as much as possible.

To soften the hands: One can have the hands in soap-suds with soft soap without injury to the skin if the hands are dipped in vinegar or lemon juice immediately after. The acids destroy the corrosive effects of the alkali, and make the hands soft and white. Indian meal and vinegar or lemon juice used on hands where roughened by cold or labor will heal and soften them. Rub the hands in this, then wash off thoroughly and rub in glycerine. Those who suffer from chapped hands will find this comforting.

To remove stains, rub a slice of raw potato upon the stains; or wash the hands in lemon juice or steeped laurel-leaves.

To give a fine color to the nails, the hands and fingers must be well lathered and washed with fine soap; then the nails must be rubbed with equal parts cinnebar and emery, followed by oil of bitter almonds. To take white spots from the nails, melt equal parts pitch and turpentine in a small cup; add to it vinegar and powdered sulphur. Rub this on the nails and the spots will soon disappear.

One pound of washing soda, one pound of lard or clear tallow, half a pound of unslaked lime, one tablespoonful of salt, three quarts of water. Put the soda and lime in a large dish, and pour over the water, boiling hot; stir in until dissolved; let it stand until clear, then pour off the clear liquid, add the grease and salt; boil four hours, then pour into pans to cool. If it should be inclined to curdle or separate, indicating the lime to be too strong, pour in a little more water, and boil again. Perfume as you please and pour into molds or a shallow dish, and, when cold, cut into bars to dry.

The following list gives some of the more common poisons and the remedies most likely to be on hand in case of need:---

Acids:-These cause great heat and sensation of burning pain from the mouth down to the stomach. The remedies are: Magnesia, soda, pearl ash, or soap dissolved in water, every two minutes, then use the stomach pump or an emetic.

Alakli:-Drink freely of water with vinegar or lemon juice in it, made very strong of the sour.

Ammonia:-Remedy is lemon juice or vinegar.

Arsenic Remedies:-Give prompt emetic of mustard and salt, a tablespoonful of each, in a coffecup or warm water; then follow with sweet oil, butter made warm, or milk. also may use the white of an egg in half a cupful of milk or lime water. Chalk water is good, and the preparation of iron, ten drops in water every half hour; hydrated magnesia.

Alcohol:-First cleanse out the stomach by an emetic, then dash cold water on the head and give ammonia (spirits of hartshorn)

Laudanum, Morphine, Opium:-First give a strong emetic of mustard and water, then very strong coffee and acid drinks; dash water on the head, then keep in motion.

Belladonna:-Give an emetic of mustard, salt and water; then drink plenty of vinegar and water or lemonade.

Charcoal:-In poisons, by carbonic gas, remove the patient to the open air, dash cold water on the head and body, and stimulate the nostrils and lungs with hartshorn, at the same time rubbing the chest briskly.

Corrosive Sublimate, Saltpetre, Blue Vitriol, Bed-Bug Poison:-Give white of egg, freshly mixed with water, in large quantities; or give wheat flour and water, or soap and water freely or salt and water and large draughts of millk.

Lead:-White lead and sugar of lead. Give an emetic, then follow with cathartics, such as castor oil and epsom salts especially.

Nux Vomica:-
First emetics, then brandy.

Oxalic Acid (frequently taken for epsom salts):- First give soap and water, or chalk or magnesia and water. Give every two minutes.

White Vitriol:-Give plenty of milk and water.

Tartar Emetic:-Take large doses of tea made of white oak bark, or peruvian bark. Drink plenty of warm water to encourage vomiting; then, if the vomiting should not stop, give a grain of opium in water.

Nitrate of Silver:-(lunar castic) Give a strong solution of common salt and water, and then an emetic.

Verdigris:- Give plenty of white of efff and water.

Tobacco:-Emetics, frequent draughts of cold water; camphor and brandy.

Bring The South Pole Home!

If you click on this link, you will have officially reached the end of the internet.

There's nothing more to see. You can stop surfing now. You're done. It's time to find a new hobby.

Talking Back to Conversation Hearts, 2

Dude, that's like soooo 1995.

Customer Service Brickbats and Bouquets

We here at the Cake Eater Pad have had some memorable customer service experiences in the past week or so, and because I'm generous that way, I thought I'd share. I shall try to be brief about it because, well, I want to go and read my book with a cup of cocoa.

First off, the sexy coffee pot with the dual water windows crapped out a week ago this past Sunday. There's nothing quite like waking up, expecting to spend leisurely morning in your jammies, and walking into the kitchen to see your husband, wrapped up in his plaid flannel bathrobe, longish hair pulled back into a ponytail, a screwdriver in his hand and the panicky expression of a junkie on his face as he told you the damn thing doesn't work! That's when you sigh deeply, go and---not fussing with underwear---pull on jeans and a polar fleece and walk up to the neigborhood Bou and score the much needed caffeine.

Since it was Sunday there was nothing we could do about the problem since Mr. Coffee's help line wasn't operating. Come Monday, however, the husband was on the phone with them, and when he finally connected with a REAL LIVE HUMAN BEING they just told him that there's a problem with a leak in the brewbasket that caused the chip to short out, hence it would turn on, but wouldn't brew. After confirming a serial number on the bottom of the old brewer, he told the husband to throw the thing out, and that in two to three weeks a new one would be arriving.

Well, my devoted Cake Eater readers, it only took two to three days for the new coffee maker to arrive. It's exactly like the old one, except for the fact that the brewbasket has supposedly been redesigned.

So, YAY FOR MR. COFFEE! We likes the Mr. Coffee people. Well done! A bouquet of lovely flowers to them.

As far as the brickbats are concerned, well, those go to Wells Fargo bank. They lied to the husband. It wasn't a case of they told him one thing, but corporate policy turned out to be another, and gee, we're really sorry about this, but... It was a case of, "If you want x, we need y. Oh, you brought us y? Well, that's fantastic, but that thing we told you we could do for you if you brought us y, well, we didn't mean it. We changed our minds for no real reason at all. Have a nice day."

Not only did they lie about y, there were also some serious whoppers told with the express purpose of getting the husband off the branch manager's back. She lied. And she told stupid lies---i.e lies that are easily verified for being lies. When confronted, she showed no remorse and refused to make things right.

We've had a wonderful working relationship with Wells Fargo for going on four years now and I've been nothing but impressed with them...until now. It's quite shocking, because they've done nothing but keep us happy over the years. I thought when they took over Norwest it would be the usual merger story and things would be goofed for forever, but I was wrong. The merger was a GOOD thing and Wells Fargo has been a wonderful addition to the local banking community. But now? Well, now they've pissed me off and, to put it bluntly WELLS FARGO SUCKS!

I thought you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, should know how I feel about the matter.

Compare and Contrast Time

The Los Angeles Times on Coretta Scott King's funeral: "Bush Gets an Earful at Coretta King's Funeral"

LITHONIA, Ga. -- A day of eulogizing Coretta Scott King turned into a rare, in-person rebuke of President Bush, with a succession of civil rights and political leaders assailing White House policies as evidence that the dream of social and racial equality pursued by King and her slain husband is far from reality.

{...}But it also included pointed political commentary, much of it aimed at Bush. The president and his wife watched as the sanctuary at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church near Atlanta filled with raucous cheers for their White House predecessors, Bill and Hillary Clinton -- a reminder that five years into his term, Bush and the Republican Party he leads have not found the acceptance across black America that GOP strategists had hoped.

"This commemorative ceremony this morning and this afternoon is not only to acknowledge the great contributions of Coretta and Martin, but to remind us that the struggle for equal rights is not over," said former President Carter, a Democrat and former Georgia governor, to rising applause. "We only have to recall the color of the faces of those in Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi, those who were most devastated by Katrina, to know that there are not yet equal opportunities for all Americans."

Carter, who has had a strained relationship with Bush, drew cheers when he used the Kings' struggle as a reminder of the recent debate over whether Bush violated civil liberties protections when he ordered warrantless surveillance of some domestic phone calls and e-mails.

Noting that the Kings' work was "not appreciated even at the highest level of the government," Carter said: "It was difficult for them personally -- with the civil liberties of both husband and wife violated as they became the target of secret government wiretapping, other surveillance, and as you know, harassment from the FBI." Bush has said his own program of warrantless wiretapping is aimed at stopping terrorists.

The most overtly partisan remarks came from the Rev. Joseph Lowery, a King protege and longtime Bush critic, who noted Coretta King's opposition to the war in Iraq and criticized Bush's commitment to boosting the poor.

"She deplored the terror inflicted by our smart bombs on missions way afar," he said. "We know now there were no weapons of mass destruction over there. But Coretta knew and we knew that there are weapons of misdirection right down here. Millions without health insurance. Poverty abounds. For war, billions more, but no more for the poor."{...}

Compare this to the WaPo's "Coretta Scott King's Legacy Celebrated in Final Farewell."

{...}The six-hour service, held in a lavish black church in the wealthy, majority-black Atlanta suburb of DeKalb County, seemed to strive mightily to project a theme of inclusion and the setting aside of political differences. Among the speakers were four of the five living U.S. presidents; several lawmakers; the Georgia governor, who is locked in a pitched battle with black lawmakers over voting rights; and a television evangelist.

Several high-profile -- and politically charged -- black figures, such at the Rev. Jesse L. Jackson and the Rev. Al Sharpton, were not accorded a place onstage.

Still, political tensions occasionally burst through the veneer of reconciliation. At one point, the Rev. Joseph E. Lowery, a former head of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), the group Martin Luther King Jr. helped found, made a reference to not finding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. The well-heeled, mostly black crowd erupted in a standing ovation.

In his speech, former president George H.W. Bush noted that Lowery's address was all in rhyme. "Maya Angelou has nothing to worry about," he said, looking at Lowery. "Don't quit your day job."

Former president Bill Clinton, whose popularity among black people has not waned, was greeted like a returning hero, his remarks peppered with wild ovations and his one-liners greeted by raucous laughter. He dedicated his speech to the King children: Yolanda, Martin Luther III, Dexter and Bernice.

"Her children, we know they have to bear the burden of their mother and father's legacy," Clinton told the crowd. "We clap for that, but they have to go home and live it." He challenged the mourners. "You want to treat our friend Coretta like a role model? Then model her behavior."{...}

I'm assuming that each of these stories will be their respective newspaper's front page story for this morning's editions.

Now, do tell, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, which one actually reports on the funeral?

No matter how many times you see it, the bias can---and will---take your breath away.

Talking Back to Conversation Hearts

Well, do you really?

Ummm. Well, see...here's the thing. You may miss moi, but I don't miss you.

At all.

I think more about which shade of polish I painted my toenails than I think about you.

Sorry about that. But I figured you'd rather have the truth than some half-assed lie to make you feel better about yourself, like that I was becoming a nun and heading off to a mission in Guatemala. That doesn't help anyone---you or me---so it's just best to tell the truth, that way you can go and start the healing process by getting shitfaced. There's a bar just down the street. Tell Jimmy, the bartender, that you know me and he'll spot you the first one.

Have a nice life. I know I will.

Seizing Souter

A fancy, mainstream media follow-up on this post can be found here.

Go read the whole thing.

Quickie Cake Eater Movie Review

I shot off to the movies tonight and saw The Worlds' Fastest Indian which is postively delightful. It's well worth the eight bucks.

A more complete---and not quite so quickie---pontification after the jump.

Sir Anthony Hopkins plays Burt Munro, a Kiwi pensioner who spends his time annoying his neighbors by not mowing the lawn on his property in favor of inventively tweaking his 1920 Indian "motorsickle." Burt's dream is to have his bike timed at the Bonneville Salt Flats---half a world away from Invercargill, New Zealand---and when a heart condition comes into the picture, he realizes it's time to get going on fulfilling said dream. Through quite a bit of luck and goodwill, he manages to get to the flats only to find out that he won't be able to test his bike because the powers that be declare, in their infinite wisdom, that it's not quite safe. Burt eventually triumphs, but that's not really the point---this movie is all about the journey, and a delightful one it is, too.

Sir Anthony is, as usual, fantastic. I don't know that I've ever seen him play a character who has less to hide than Burt. Burt is a "what you see is what you get" kind of guy, and in the hands of a less-skilled actor than Anthony Hopkins, Burt would have been booooooring---with a capital 'B'----his dreams of owning the World's Fastest Indian notwithstanding. But, fortunately for Burt, Anthony Hopkins is a master craftsman and knows what the hell he's doing. In his hands, Burt is the weird guy who lives down the street that you've never really known and have mainly avoided, but now, through a weird twist of fate, are getting to know---and you know what?---he's absolutely fascinating.

It's amazing how little recognition Sir Anthony is getting for this role because it's completely against type for him. There are no layers to this character. There is no great moment of revelation. There is no chianti and fava beans. He plays the guy for who he was: an slightly kooky old dude with a tweaked-out bike, which is all the job called for and he did the job very well. But I suppose if the world recognizes---and lauds---you for playing Hannibal the Cannibal, playing normal Burt Munro isn't really going to impress anyone.

Which is a bloody shame, if you ask me, because he really is quite wonderful.

We Got Your Blasphemy Right Here!

Forget all this hubbub about cartoons depicting Mohammed in a blasphemous way.

I've got something much, MUCH worse than all of that. You see, I found an Arabic version of one of the most famous and beloved songs in the American Songbook.

Ahem.

My devoted (and undoubtedly shocked) Cake Eater readers, I present to you the Arabic version of {insert sexy baseline here} Shaft.

Blasphemy against Isaac Hayes aside, I think we're safe in saying, however, that the dude whose work this is could not be considered a sex machine to all the chicks.

"The White House Cookbook": Toilet Recipes, Items, Part Two

More fascinating early 20th century hair and skin care after the jump, including a recipe for freckle removal.

{Part One}

Boil an ounce of walnut bark in a pint of water for an hour. Add a lump of alum the size of a filbert, and when cold apply with a camel's-hair brush.

One penny's worth of borax, half a pint of olive oil, one pint of boiling water.

Pour the boiling water over the borax and oil; let it cool; then put the mixture into a bottle. Shake it before using, and apply it with a flannel. Camphor and borax, dissolved in boiling water and left to cool, make a very good wash for the hair; as also does rosemary water mixed with a little borax. After using any of these washes, when the hair becomes thoroughly dry, a little pomatum or oil should be rubbed in to make it smooth and glossy---that is, if one prefers oil on the hair.

One marrow bone, half a pint of oil, ten cents' worth of citronella. Take the marrow out of the bone, place it in warm water, let it get almost to boiling point, then let it cool and pour the water away; repeat this three times until the marrow is thoroughly "fined." Beat the marrow to a cream with a silver fork, stirl the oil in, drop by drop, beating all the time; when quite cold add the citronella, pour into jars and cover down.

Clop them and annoint with a little sweet oil. Should the hair fall out, having been full, use one of the hair invigorators.

To one quart of rose-water add an ounce and a half of gum tragacanth; let it stand forty-eight hours, frequently straining it, then strain through a coarse linen cloth; let it stand two days, and again strain; add to it a drachm of oil of roses. Used by ladies dressing their hair, to make it lie in any position.

Put in a vial one drachm of benzoin gum in powder, one drachm of nutmeg oil, six drops of orange-blossom tea, or apple blossoms put in half pint of rain-water and boiled down to one teaspoonful and strained, one pint of sherry wine. Bathe the face morning and night; will remove all flesh-worms and freckles, and give a beautiful complexion. Or, put one ounce of gum of benzoin in a pint of whisky; to use, put in water in wash-bowl until it is milky, allowing it to dry without wiping. This is perfectly harmless.

Cream cures sun-burn on some complexions, lemon juice is best on others, and cold water suits still others best.

Five cents' worth of bay rum, five cents' worth of magnesia snowflake, five cents' worth of bergamot, five cents' worth of oil of lemon; mix in a pint bottle and fill up with rain- water. Shake well, and apply with a soft sponge or cloth.

Take a quarter of a pound of wheat starch pounded fine; sift it through a fine sieve, or a piece of lace; add to it eight drops of oil of rose, oil of lemon thirty drops, oil of bergamot fifteen drops. Rub thoroughly together.

The French throw this powder into alcohol, shaking it, letting it settle, then pouring off the alcohol and drying the powder. In that case, the perfume is added lastly.

The following lotion is highly recommended: one ounce of lemon juice, a quarter of a drachm of powdered borax, and half a drachm of sugar; mix in a bottle, and allow them to stand for a few days, when the liquor should be rubbed occasionally on the hands and face. Another application is: Friar's balsam one part, rose-water twenty parts.

Powdered nitre moistened with water and applied to the face night and morning is said to remove freckles without injury to the skin.

Also, a tablespoonful of freshly grated horseradish, stirred into a cupful of sour milk; let it stand for twelve hours, then strain and apply often. This bleaches the complexion also, and takes off tan.

Into a pint of rum put a tablespoonful of flour of sulphur. Apply this to patches once a day, and they will disappear in two or three weeks.

One teaspoonful of carbolic acid and one pint of rose-water mixed is an excellent remedy for pimples. Bathe the skin thoroughly and often, but do not let the wash get into eyes.

This wash is soothing to mosquito bites, and irritations of the skin of every nature.

It is advisable, in order to clear the complexion permanently, to cleanse the blood; then the wash would be of advantage.

To obtain a good complexion, a person's diet should receive the first attention. Greasy food, highly spiced soups, hot bread and butter, meats or game, rich gravies, alcoholic liquors, coffee---all are injurious to the complexion. Strong tea used daily will after a time give the skin the color and appearance of leather. Coffee affects the nerves more, but the skin less, and a healthy nervous system is necessary to beauty. Eating between meals, late suppers, over-eating at meals, eating sweetmeats, candies, etc., all these tend to disorder the blood, producing pimples and blotches.

Washing of the face ior skin is another consideration for a good complexion; it should be thoroughly washed in plenty of luke-warm water with some mild soap---then rinsed in clear water well; dry with a thick soft towel. If suds is left or wipe off the skin, the action of the air and sun will tan the surface, and permanently deface the complexion; therefore one should be sure to thoroughly rinse off all soap from the skin to avoid the tanning, which will leave a brown or yellow tinge impossible to efface.

"The White House Cookbook": Toilet Recipes, Items, Part One

Those of you who enjoy fiddling with the essential oils display at The Body Shop will want to take the jump for ideas. (Yes, Mr. H. That means you.)

Oil of lavender, two drachms, oil of rosemary one drachm and a half, orange, lemon and bergamot, one drachm each of the oil; also two drachms of the essence of musk, attar of rose ten drops, and a pint of proof spirit. Shake all together thoroughly three times a day for a week.

Mix one pint extract of rose, one pint extract of tuberose, half a pint of extract of cassia, four ounces extract of jasmine, and three ounces tincture of civet. Filter the mixture.

Preferable to the distilled for a perfume, or for culinary purposes. Attar of rose, twelve drops; rub it up with half an ounce of white sugar and two drachms carbonate magnesia; then add gradually one quart of water and two ounces of proof spirit, and filter through paper.

French proof spirit one gallon, extract bay six ounces. Mix and color with caramel; needs no filtering.

Oil of lavender two ounces, orris root half an ounce, spirits of wine one pint. Mix and keep two or three weeks. It may then be strained through two thicknesses of blotting paper and is ready for use.

Best white castor oil; pour in a little strong solution of sal tartar in water, and shake it until it looks thick and white. Perfume with lavender.

Olive oil one pound, attar of roses fifty drops, oil of rosemary twenty-five drops; mix, and color it with alkanet root

Melt one ounce oil of almonds, half ounce spermaceti, one drachm white wax and then add two ounces of rose water, and stir it constantly until cold.

Melt one ounce white wax, one ounce sweet oil, one drachm spermaceti, and throw in a piece of alkanet root to color it, and when cooling, perfume it with oil rose, and then pour it into small white jars or boxes.

Take glycerine four ounces, tincture of cantharides five ounces, bay rum four ounces, water two ounces. Mix, and apply once a day and rub well down the scalp.

Bay rum two pints, alcohol one pint, castor oil one ounce, carb. ammonia half an ounce, tincture of cantharides one ounce. Mix them well. This compound will promote the growth of hair and prevent it from falling out.

Renowned for the past fifty years, is as follows: Take a quarter of an ounce of the chippings of alkanet root, tie this in a bit of coarse muslin and put it in a bottle containing eight ounces of sweet oil; cover it to keep out the dust; let it stand several days; add to this sixty drops of tincture of cantharides, ten drops of oil of rose, neroli and lemon each sixty drops; let it stand one week and you will have one of the most powerful stimulants for the growth of the hair ever known.

Another:-To a pint of strong sage tea, a pint of bay rum and a quarter of an ounce of the tincture of cantharides, add an ounce of castor oil and a teaspoonful of rose or other perfume. Shake well before applying to the hair, as the oil will not mix.

To one ounce of crystallized nitrate of silver, dissolved in one ounce of concentrated aqua ammonia, add one ounce of gum arabic and six ounces of soft water. Keep in the dark. Remember to remove all grease from the hair before applying the dye.

There is danger in some of the patent hair dyes and hence the Scientific American offter swhat is known as the walnut hair dye. The simplest form is the expressed juice fo the bark or shell of green walnuts. To preserve the juice a little alcohol is commonly added to it with a few bruised cloves, and the whole digested together, with occasional agitation, for a week or fortnight, when the clear portion is decanted, and, if necessary, filtered. Sometimes a little common salt is added with the same intention. It should be kept in a cool place. The most convenient way of application is by means of a sponge.

Oh, Insomnia

Dude.

This being unable to sleep at three-fifteen a.m. thing sucks.

But seriously, folks.

It really, really sucks. I would like to sleep. I actually was asleep. Then I woke up because I was thirsty. I procured a glass of water and now, for some STRANGE REASON, I'm delineating this for all of you because I couldn't get back to sleep and I needed something to do.

How badly does my life suck right about now? Eh? Eh?

On second thought, don't answer that.

"Hem Hem"

The Ministry of Magic has excellent casting news.

Yes, that's right, my devoted Cake Eater readers, I drank the pumpkin juice.

Philosophikal and Stuff

Robbo's chatting about Shroedinger's Cat throwing shadows on Plato's Cave.

Or sumtin' like that.

Shoot on over and read.

In good news, I think I've found the husband a reasonably priced Valentine's Day present!

"The White House Cookbook": Miscellaneous, Part Two

Tips for the hostess with the mostest after the jump!

Just a hint, but having servants apparently helps greatly.

{Part One}

In giving "dinners," the apparently trifling details are of great importance when taken as a whole.

We gather around our board agreeable persons, and they pay us and our dinner the courtesy of dressing for the occasion, and this reunion should be a time of profit as well as pleasure. There are certain established laws by which "dinner giving" is regulated in polite society; and it may not be amiss to give a few observances in relation to them. One of the first is that an invited guest should arrive at the house of his host at least a quarter of an hour before the time appointed for dinner. In laying the table for dinner all the linen should be a spotless white throughout, and underneath the linen tablecloth should be a spread ine of thick cotton-flannel or baize, which gives the linen a heavier and finer appearance, also deadening the sound of moving dishes. Large and neatly folded napkins (ironed without starch), with pieces of bread three or four inches long, placed between the folds, but not to completely conceal it, are laid on each plate. An ornamental centre-piece, or a vase filled with a few rare flowers, is put on the centre of the table, in place of the large table-castor, which has gone into disuse, and is rarely seen now on well-appointed tables. A few choice flowers make a charming variety in the appearance of even the most simply laid table, and a pleasing variety at table is quite as essential to the enjoyment of the repast as is a good choice of dished, for the eye in fact should be gratified as much as the palate.

All dishes should be arranged in harmony with the decoratins of the flowers, such as covers, relishes, confectionery, and small sweets. Garnishing of dishes has also a great deal to do with the appearance of a dinner-table, each dish garnishes sufficiently to be in good taste without looking absurd.

Beside each plate should be laid as many knives, forks and spoons as will be required for the several courses, unless the hostess prefers to have them brought on with each change. A glass of water, and when wine is served glasses for it, and individual salt-cellars may be placed at every plate. Water-bottles are now much in vogue with corresponding tumblers to cover them; these, accompanies with dishes of broken ice, may be arranged in suitable places. When butter is served a special knife is usedm abd that, with all other required service, may be left to the judgment of the hostess, in the proper place of the various aids to her guests' comfort.

The dessert plates should be set ready, each with a doily and a finger-glass partly filled with water, in which is dropped a slice of lemon; these with extra knives, forks and spoons, should be on the side-board ready to be placed beside the guest between the courses when required.

If preferred, the "dinner, may all be served from the side-table, thus relieving the host from the task of carving. A plate is set before each guest, and the dish carved is presented by the waiter on the left-hand side of each guest. At the end of each course the plates give way for those of the next. If not served from the side-table, the dishes are brought in ready carved, and placed before the host and hostess, then served and placed upon the waiter's salver, to be laid by that attendant before the guest.

Soup and fish being the first course, plates of soup are usually placed on the table before the dinner is announced; or if the hostess wishes the soup served at the table, the soup-tureen, containing hot soup, and the warm soup-plates are placed before the seat of the hostess. Soup and fish being disposed of, then come the joints or roasts, entrees (made dishes), poultry, etc., also relishes.

After dishes have been passed that are required no more, such as vegetables, hot-sauces, etc. the dishes containing them may be set upon the side-board, ready to be taken away.

Jellies and sauces, when not to be eaten as a dessert, should be helped on the dinner-plate, not on a small side dish as was the former usage.

If a dish be on the table, some parts of which are preferred to others, according to the taste of the individuals, all should have the opportunity of choice. The host will simply ask each one if he has any preference for a particular part; if he replies in the negative, you are not to repeat the question, nor insist that he must have a preference.

Do not attempt to eulogize your dishes, or apologize that you cannot recommend them---this is extreme bad taste; as also is the vaunting of the excellence of your wines, etc., etc.

Do not insist upon your guest partaking of particular dishes. Do not ask persons more than once, and never force a supply upon their plates. It is ill-bred, though common, to press any one to eat; and, moreover, it is a great annoyance to many.

In winter, plates should always be warmed, but not made hot. Two kinds of animal food, or two kinds of dessert, should not be eaten off of one plate, and there should never be more than two kinds of vegetables with one course. Asparagus, green corn, cauliflower, and raw tomatoes comprise one course in place of a salad. All meats should be cut across the grain in very thin slices. Fish, at dinner, should be baked or boiled, never fried or broiled. Baked ham may be used in every course after fish, sliced thin and handed after the regular course is disposed of.

The hostess should retain her plate, knife and fork, until her guests have finished.

The crumb-brush is not used until the prepartion for bringing in the dessert; then all the glasses are removed, except the flowers, the water-tumblers, and the glass of wine which the guest wishes to retain with his dessert. The dessert plate containing the finger-bowl, also a dessert knife and fork, should then be set before each guest, who at once removes the finger-bowl and its doily, and the knife and fork to the table, leaving the plate ready to be used for any dessert chosen.

Finely sifted sugar should always be placed upon the table to be used to wht puddings, pies, fruit, etc., and if cream is required, let it stand by the dish it is to be served with.

To lay a dessert for a small entertainment and a few guests outside of the family, it may consist simply of two dishes of fruit in season, two of dried fruits, and two each of cakes and nuts.

Coffee and tea are served lastly, poured into tiny cups and served clear, passed around on a tray to each guest, then the sugar and cream passed that each person may be allowed to season his black coffee or cafe noir to suit himself.

A family dinner, even with a few friends, can be made quite attractive and satisfactory without much display or expense; consisting first of good soup, then fish garnished with suitable additions, followed by a roast; then vegetables and some made dishes, a salad, crackers, cheese and olives, then dessert. This sensible meal, well cooked and neatly served, is pleasing to almost any one, and is within the means of any housekeeper in ordinary circumstances.

The Fed Jedi

Finally someone pegs Greenspan correctly.

One of the knocks I’ve heard on Bernanke is that he is, ironically, too plainspoken—that is, too easily understood. Much of Greenspan’s success can be attributed to his foggy, quasi-Zen-like pronouncements which, to me at least, often recalled Peter Sellers’ Chauncey Gardiner in Being There. There was a soothing potentially deep confusion to them—as if Yoda had taken a dose of LSD and suddenly whipped out an abacus.

Oh, Alan, we will miss thee.

You can go read the rest if you want. Me? I've just been visited by Mr. Chesterfield: I'm satisfied.

Ahead of the Curve

Punk ass Opinion Journal is behind the times. And they got beat by a stay at home mom in Omaha.

{Insert Nelson Mundt HA-ha here}

"The White House Cookbook": Miscellaneous, Part One

There's a rather large catchall section at the back end of the book---today, we're going to cover table etiquette.

Take the jump if you're dying to know why it's considered rude to blow on your food.

Delicacy of manner at table stamps both man and woman, for one can, at a glance, discern whether a person has been trained to eat well ---i.e. to hold the knife and fork properly, to eat without the slightest sound of the lips, to drink quietly, to use the napkin rightly, to make no moise with any of the implements of the table, and last, but not least, to eat slowly and masticate the food thoroughly. All these points should be most carefully taught to children, and then they will always feel at their ease at the grandest tables in the land. There is no position where the innate refinement of a person is more fully exhibited when at a the table, and nowhere that those who have not been trained in table etiquette feel more keenly their deficiencies. The knife should never be used to carry food to the mouth, but only to cut it up into small mouthfuls; then place it upon the plate at one side, and take the fork in the right hand, and eat all the food with it. When both have been used finally, they should be laid diagonally across the plate, with both handles toward the right hand; this is understood by well-trained waiters to be the signal for removing them, together with the plate.

Be careful to keep the mouth shut closely while masticating the food. It is the opening of the lips which causes the smacking which seems very disgusting. Chew your food well, but do it silently, and be careful to take small mouthfuls. The knife can be used to cut the meat finely, as large pieces of meat are not healthful, and appear very indelicate. At many tables, two, three or more knifes and forks are placed on the table, the knives at the right hand side of the plate, the forks at the left,-a knife and a fork for each course, so that there need be no replacing of them after the breakfast and dinner is served. The smaller ones, which are fore game, dessert, or for hot cakes at breakfast, can be tucked under the edges of the plate and the large ones, for the meat and vegetables, are placed outside of them. Be very careful not to clatter your knives and forks upon your plates, but use them without noise. When passing the plate for a second helping, lay them together at one side of the plate, with handles to the right. When you are helped to anything, do not wait until the rest of the company are provided, as it is not considered good breeding. Soup is always served for the first course, and it should be eaten with dessert spoons, and taken from the sides, not the tips, of them, without any sound fof the lips, and not sucked nto the mouth audibly from the ends of the spoon. Bread should not be broken into soup or gravy. Never ask to be heled to soup a second time. The hostess may ask you to take a second late, but you will politely decline. Fish chowder, which is served in soup plates, is said to be an exception which proves this rule, and when eating of that it is correct to take a second plateful if desired.

Another generally neglected obligation is tat of spreading butter on one's bread as it lies in one's plate, or but slightly lifted at one of the plate; it is very frequently buttered in the air, bitten in gouges, and still held in the face and eyes of the table with the marks of the teeth on it. The is certainly not altogether pleasant, and it is better to cut it, a bit at a time, after buttering it, and put piece by piece in the mouth with one's finger and thumb. Never help yourself to butter, or any other food with your own knife or fork. It is not considered good taste to mix food on the same plate. Salt must be left on the side of the plate and never on the tablecloth.

Let us mention a few things concering the eating of which there is sometimes doubt. A cream-cake and anything of similar nature should be eaten with knife and fork, never bitten. Asparagus---which should be always served on bread or toast so as to absorb superfluous moisture---may be taken from the finger and thumb; if it is fit to be set before you the whole of it may be eaten. Pastry should be eaten with a fork, never cut with a knife. Raw oysters should be eaten with a fork, also fish. Peas and beans, as we all know, require the fork only; however food that cannot be held witha fork should be eaten with a spoon. Potatoes, if mashed, should be mashed with the fork. Green corn should be eaten from the cob; but it must be held with a single hand.

Celery, cresses, olives, radishes, and relishes of that kind are, of course, to be eaten with the fingers; the salt should be laid upon one's plate, not upon the cloth. Fish is to be eaten with the fork, without the assistance of the knifel a bit of bread in the left hand sometimes helps one to maste a refactory morsel. Fresh fruit should be eaten with a silver-bladed knife, especially pears, apples, etc.

Berries, of course, are to be eaten with a spoon. In England they are served with their hulls on, and three or four are considered an ample quantity. But then in England they are many times the side of ours; there they take the big berry by the stem, dip into powdered sugar, and eat it as we do the turnip radish. It is not proper to drink with a spoon in the cup; nor should one, by-the-way, ever quite drain a cup or glass.

Don't, when you drink, elevate your glass as if you were going to stand it inverted on your nose. Bring the glass perpendicularly to the lips, and then lift it to a slight angle. Do this easily.

Drink sparingly while eating. It is far better for the digestion not to drink tea or coffee until the meal is finished. Drink gently, and do not pour it down your throat like water turned out of a pitcher.

When seating yourselfat the table, unfold your napkin and lay it across your lap in such a manner that it will not slide off upon the floor; a gentleman should place it across his right knee. Do not tuck it into your neck like a child's bib. For an old person, however, it is well to attach the napkin to a napkin hook and slip it into the vest or dress buttonholes, to protect their garments, or sew a broad tape at two places on the napkin, and pass it over the head. When the soup is eaten, wipe the mouth carefully with the napkin, and use it to wipe the hands after meals. Finger bowls are not a general institution, and yet they seem to be quite as needed as the napkin, for the fingers are also liable to become a little soiled in eating. They can be had quite cheaply, and should be half-filled with waterm and placed upon the side table or butler's tray, with the dessert, bread and cheese, etc. They are passed to each person half filled with water, placed on a parti-colored naplin witha dessert plate underneath, when the dessert is placed on the table. A leaf or two of sweet verbena, an orange flower, or a small slice of lemon, is usually put into each bowl, to rub upon the fingers. The slice of lemon is most commonly used. The finger tips are slightly dipped into the bowl, the lemon juice is squeezed upon them, and then they are dried softly upon the napkin. At dinner parties and luncheons they are indispensible.

Spoons are sometimes used with firm puddings, but forks are the better style. A poon should never be turned over in the mouth.

Ladies have frequently an affected way of holding the knife halfway down its length, as if it were too big for their little hands; but this is as awkward a way as it is weak: the knife should be grasped freely by the handle only, the fore-finger being the only one to touch the blade, and that only along the back of the blade at its root, and no further down.

At the conclusion of a course, where they have been used, knife and fork should be laid side by side across the middle of the plate---never crossed; the old custom of crossing them was in obedience to an ancient religious formula. The servant should offer everything at the left of the guest, that the guest may be at liberty to use the right hand. If one has been given a napkin ring, it is necessary to fold one's napkin and use the ring; otherwise the napkin should be left unfolded. One's teeth are not to be picked at the table; but if it is impossible to hinder it, it should be done behind the napkin. One may pick a bone at the table, but, as with corn, only one hand is allowed to touch it; yet one can easily get enough from it with knife and fork, which is certainly the more elegant way of doing; and to take her teeth to it gives a lady the look of caring a little too much for the pleasures of the table; one is, however, on no account to suck one's finger after it.

Whenever there is any doubt as to the best way to do athing, it is wise to follow that which is the most rationa;, and that will almost invariably be found to be proper etiquette. To be at ease is a great step towards enjoying your own dinner, and making yourself agreeable to the company. There is reason for everything in polite usage; thus the reason why one does not blow a thing to cool it, is not only that it is an inelegant and vulgar action intrinsically, but because it may be offensive to others---cannot help but being so, indeed; and it, moreover, implies haste, which, whether from greediness or a desirre to get away, is objectionable. Everything else may be as easily traced to its origin in the fit and becoming.

If, to conclude, one seats one's self properly at table and takes reason into account one will do tolerably well. One must not pull one's chair too closely to the table, for the natural result of that is the inability to use one's knife and fork without inconveniencing one's neighbor; the elbows are to be held well in and close to one's side, which cannot be done if the chair is too near the board. Ine must not lie or lean along the table, no rest one's arms upon it. Nor is one to touch any of the dishes; if a member of the family, one can exercise all the duties of hospitality through servants, and wherever there are servants, neither family nor guests are to pass or help from any dish. Finally, when rising from your chair leave it where it stands.

Throwing the Snow

Yep.

Like Rats From The Sinking Ship

Brrrr.

{...}Brillstein-Grey Entertainment literary manager Kassie Evashevski, who represented the author of "A Million Little Pieces" for more than four years, said she's not representing him anymore because of his tall tales.

"In the last week, it became impossible for me to maintain a relationship once the trust had been broken," Evashevski told Publisher Weekly for a story on Tuesday. "He eventually did apologize, but I felt for many reasons I had to let him go as a client."{...}

Putting aside the issue of Frey's lying for a secong, let's see precisely what the business angle is here. How much money did she and her agency make off Frey? Somewhere between 10-15% of the net of any royalties he gets---if not more---and that's after advances, options and the like. Methinks this has more to do with the fact that Warner Brothers is rethinking making the book into a movie. That's why they're dumping him, not because of any "trust" issues. They've gotten their money out of him, and will keep collecting money from any new sales, but that's all they're willing to do for him. Which is shitty, if you ask me. Yes, it's the real world, but damn. The guy did, after all, make you a boatload of cash. You could at least stick by him until the storm blows over and then dump him quietly.

Regarding Curious George and Ron Howard

The Cake Eater Sister, Christi, sends this email along:

I have lately been bombarded with commercials advertising Curious George. I love George and so do the kids. It is done by Ron Howard, so you would think he is on the up and up...but, i have one huge gripe...on the commercial, there is an astounded "Man With the Yellow Hat" saying to George,"You followed me all the way from Africa?"

Okay, okay, do we really need to coddle our youth of today that much? Really, now, we can't tell the little kids that the nice man with the yellow hat really captured George to bring him back to a zoo in the United States?

Here's the trailer which has the offensive, coddling, politcally correct line that Christi's talking about. Although, it looks like more than just a line, but rather an extensive change in plot. Replete with a boat named the "H.A. Rey."

Christi then requests that I should do some research about this and "blow Ron out of the water" but I don't really think that's necessary at all as she covers the bases quite nicely.

Feel free to add your angst to hers, my devoted Cake Eater readers. That's what the comments section is for.

Random Observation of the Day

If December is the delightful cocktail you just can't get enough of, January is the hangover.

Am I ever glad to be rid of this bloody hangover.

Hurrah for February!

UPDATE: And, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm plagiarizing someone with this observation, but damned if I know---or care---who it is.