Ratings Thingie?

I didn't add it, I didn't ask Blogger to add it and I am not especially pleased by it.

Does it show up for Firefox users?

Does anyone know how to turn it off?

UPDATE: And now it's gone. Now that's odd.

Spellchecking?

At times, my spelling can be...creative. However, I have never trusted autocorrecting spellcheckers and it's not only 'cos they can't keep up with my preposterous vocublary and propensity to invent words. Nope, it's been this deep'n'fundamental suspicion....

Thanks to The Unspeakable Vault (Of Doom), now I know why.

Update: corrected spelling of "spellcheckers." Smooooooth.

Overheard At Roseholme

So, I'm sittin' on the couch Monday morning, givin' my Big Black Milwaukee Boots an aerosol zotz of footstuff* -- unusual for me, as I prefer powder but couldn't find any, latest trip to the market -- and Tam's cats were reacting as if I'd opened a bottle of skunk juice, ears back, lookin' around.

"Wow, the cats really hate the scent of this but I can't smell anything," sez I.

Tam: "No, they hate all aerosols, even the air-freshener. Even cooking spray."

[Pause]

Me: "Oh! They think it's swearing at them!"

Tam: "Cusswords In A Can!™"

Remember, you saw it here first.
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*Yes, it is true: I have an almost pathological aversion to foot-fungus, having had a nasty bout of it as a tennie-wearing teen and having seen my Dad fight the stuff every day of his working life. What, you haven't any quirks?

Suddenly, We're Uniquely Special, Just Like Everyone Else

I awoke to the TV, with a reporter solemnly intoning that, "With only one day to go, Senators Clinton and Obama are making a renewed effort to court the middle class."

Um, hello? Let's look at this objectively, shall we? Winning elections is all about numbers; you get bigger numbers of votes then your opponent(s), you win. Population demographics is all about numbers too, and household income vs. percentage of the population is a good fit to a bell curve. QED: the greatest number of voters are middle class.

If a candidate spends most of his or her time schmoozin' the wealthy for donations an' preachin' smug class hatred to the (supposedly) downtrodden, I spose it would be easy to lose sight of that simple fact; but gosh, Wally, surely the Dem frontrunners wouldn't do that....

Except, y'know, when they are.

Tam just mentioned the last commercial break had three (out of four) commercials for one or the other. That would explain why the coffee machines are now free at the Big Media Outfit where I work. If this keeps up, we might just get new carpeting, too. Qui Bono? Now you know!

IndyGunBloggerMeetUp One

The first such gathering was, I think, quite a success. Who'd've guessed? --You mention Tam will be there, and all the greats show up!

And it was great. With such a collection of widely-travelled storytellers, there was no dearth of conversational give and take, the kind of "round table" one can only hope for.

Here's some of the crew. Yes, Og's camera-shy; he claims it's due to chrono-temporal security (there are no Neandertals living among us, okay? None) but I think Ogwife got tired of swarms of cooing Og-groupies on the front lawn.

Bloggers and spouses, clockwise starting at lower left: Old Grouch, Roberta X, Tamara K, Ogwife, This Space Intentionally Not Og, Caleb, Mark Alger. Not shown, Frank W. James and a delightful blog-reading couple.

Conversation was wide-ranging, from Frank W. James' insights about gunny publishing (alas, much like SF publishing, though with fewer lawsuits) to Classical music to the best place to bury concrete stairs, with detours through choice items like what happens if one drinks a lava lamp. You should have been there!

Other highlights? Look closely at Ogwife's place-setting: that's a sample of all the in-house brews! Not a free education in comparative beer but an excellent start. (She advises against the porter unless you're really into such things, but found their wheat beer and Del Sol enjoyable). (Update: Caleb liked the porter. See, this is why trade works). I'm deep into my second hard cider, which is way plenty for a country gal. Scotch eggs were shared around, a treat I try not to miss, but not even following them with a buffalo burger and pub chips kept me fully anchored. The male half of our blogreading couple wore a wonderful kilt, one of the heavy-duty types (a real Utilikilt! Neokilt*) that are showing up; sported a belt fully 3" wide with a well-anchored utility compartment for a multi-tool and flashlight.

The weather was sparkling, the conversation scintillating and the staff at BRB was only moderately flustered by our impromptu seating rearrangements. Looking forward to next time!

Beemer's-eye-view of the trip to BRB:

We're There!Look: Broadripple's only skyscraper!
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* Edited per Kerry's comment.

'Ware Terrapin! 'Ware Terrapin!

For Breda. This is actually Photo One of the "driving to the Indy Gunblogger Meet-Up" sequence. Vast (clickety) so her turtle can get a better idea of what famous artist's-model turtles look like.

There is absolutely no evidence that this thing artwork periodically writhes into life and clonks bicyclists and pedestrians over the head. None whatsover. Really. Nor has it ever set down the turtle and lifted a small child aloft. As far as I can tell.

Update: a reader shared this link in comments. Could it be that The Hands are saving Broadripple's Turtle from a similarly dire fate? Ew.

Imaginary Playmates

I'd heard the story for years, about how Hillary Clinton supposedly tried reaching out to the ghosts of Eleanor Roosevelt and Mahatma Ghandi. Today I tried hunting down any kernel of truth to be found therein.

Imagine my relief to learn that "Hillary [was helped] to access an 'Eleanor Roosevelt-like consciousness' from within her own psyche (not 'from beyond'), from her own imagination."

Yeah, that's so much better.

I've done that sort of exercise myself, except I was "accessing the consciousness" of a nurse or an astronaut -- and I was seven years old at the time.

Your Tax Yen At Work

A yen for something, anyway: a bureaucrat in Japan suspended after spending hours a day "gazing at online porn."

So that's why they say "you'll go blind!"

D'ya suppose we could slow down Washington's lust for legislation if we gave 'em all access to "adult" sites? It's not like the halls of power could get any grodier.

Feh. "Gazing." Hello? Euphemisms, Inc.? Do you offer bulk rates?

Indy Gunblogger Bash, Tomorrow

That's 3:00 p.m., Sunday, 4 May 2008, at Broad Ripple Brewpub, 840 E 65th St., Indianapolis, IN 46220

Bloggers and blogreaders are all invited! Of the local blogbunch, Tamara and I will be there; we're hoping Red and Ahab will, too. (Scully? Please?)

Broadripple's streets are a little, er, "quirky." BRB has a page with Mapquest and Google Maps links. You will enjoy using them. Really and truely.

There is no plan of events; it's just show up, have somethin' to sip, maybe a bite ta eat, and meet and talk!

Other Days, I'd Rather Hold Targets For The Marines

Modesty, good taste and a modicum of discretion limit the extent of my comments but today was a perfectly offal, er, awful day at the Skunk Works and the entire week has been suboptimal.

Oh, the excitement! Oh, the glamor! Oh... Oh, the kvetching. Every two weeks, they write me a check, a process which must gall terribly. Feh. Still on the six-day weeks, so tomorrow I will at least be unfairly chided at time and a half.

Update: as predicted. Y'know, it's becoming routiine.

The Turtle-Threatener

Scootered this evening up to the Village proper to gas up my scooter and pick up some cat food -- my elderly catchildren can only eat canned food. I rode right past the Don't Make Me Go Upside Your Head With This Turtle* sculpture, realizing at that point I should have taken my camera along. Maybe another time -- it was pretty dark already.

Those attending the mini-blogbash starting 3:00 pm this Sunday will be able to enjoy the wonderfulness of it in person! The artwork is barely two blocks away from our venue, the Broadripple Brewpub. If that's not enough, the Art Center, two or three blocks in the other direction, has even more Big Public Art cookin', including a tesserect of some sort. See, we're culturally upliftin'. More or less.
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* Not the actual name of the piece, though wouldn't it be grand if it was?

I Wasn't Gonna

I made this image, then decided to not post it. Then the Pride Of Chicago started runnin' TV ads with the general theme of "Ein Volk, Ein Partie, Ein Reich" and beseems me that one good turn deserves another.

He's going to "roll back the Geo. Bush Tax cut that benefits the rich," meanin' rich people like me and the bills I am keeping only barely ahead of -- bills for extravagant stuff like heat, light, water and $30-a-pair denim dungarees. His wife informs me she's takin' a slice of my pie in the name of the soi-disant Greater Good and that under an Obama regime, I can kiss my comfort goodbye. But you know what's the worst? McCain -- that fearless foe of the First Amendment -- is startin' to look better and better all the time.

Y'know, I wept that I only had hot mud to eat...until they handed me a bowl of cold mud.

...Then there's Mrs. Clinton and the Iron Rice Bowl she's promisin'. Lady, it didn't work so well in Mao's China.

Sigh.