Since a friend over at Intellectual Orgy recently got a ticket, and it reminded me of a few past indiscretions involving my lead-lined sneakers.

About a year after I moved to ‘Vegas, my dutiful little motorcycle started giving me some grief and electrical issues, so I opted to buy a car to get me through the winter months. Since I was working a crummy job at the time, I had to get something cheap. ‘Cheap’ ended up being a 1974 Plymouth Grand Fury Brougham. This translates into a car 18 feet long, 8 feet wide, weighing in at 6,200 pounds. That’s right, three point one TONS of good ol’ American steel automobile – wearing classic 70’s Dodge Bronze paint, a vinyl top and opera windows.

When she rolled off the line, she was a classy ride – power steering, power brakes, AC, AM / FM 8-track cassette, the space to sleep 8 comfortably and ability to double as a landing strip. Oh, one more thing: a giganamous 400 cubic inch Mopar powerplant. It seems that in the year she was made, all the cops were driving Furys, so the ‘stock’ motor was a bit overpowered to begin with, even before the police mods that turned them into chase cars. The speedo stopped at 120mph, and I pegged the needle at least once.

Of course, it took me a full mile to get it up to that speed, and I didn’t stay there long because of the corner a couple miles down the road…

Anyway, one night the EMC and I are over at her parent’s house watching tv with her sister when we decide it’s time for me to make a burger run – during my favorite show, of course. Being a dutiful husband, I jump behind the wheel and plant a foot on the ‘GO’ pedal and tear-ass down to BK.

Ten seconds later, I realize I’m going the wrong way. Whoops! Pull a quick U-turn (well, quick for anything smaller than the Titanic, anyway…) and I’m headed North again. Two blocks down, the light turns yellow, and I have enough room to stop so I take my foot off the accelerator – when I notice the car next to me lunge forward to make the light.

“Well hell, if he can do it, so can I…” and I stomp the pedal same as he did. I sure loved to hear that motor roar and watch the front end lift from the massive torque that thing produced.

That’s when my mind rewinds, and I remember seeing the car next to me do the same thing. The car with the white hood. And black fender. With numbers on it…fuck, that was a cop.

Sure enough, he drops back and lights ’em up, so I meander on over to the curb. He saw me signal to pull over before he hit the lights, so he just let me off with a warning, but I think it was also in surprise that I beat him through the light :)

The article at Universe Today talks about the conjunction of these two planets early Friday morning. According to them, there was a similar conjunction in August of 3 BC, and some scientists theorize that this is possibly the event that the Zoroastrian Magi saw which led them to travel to Bethlehem.

It’s possible – it’s not like supremely accurate records were kept back then. No written records from the Magi exist, and we know the Church fudged the calendars in a number of ways. (You’ll notice that all the current Christian holidays fall on roughly the same days as popular pagan holidays. Simpler for the Church to convert people if they didn’t have to give up their favorite feasts.)

If that was the event the Magi saw, it means Jesus was a Leo. Kinda fits, when you think about it.

Hey B – get the camera out, eh?

He conceded.

From a political standpoint, I can see why he did it: to forestall a possibly ugly bout of recounts and animosity from the sitting President.

It still irritates me though, since Ohio is STILL sitting out there, with 20 fat EVs up for grabs in a race that everyone was calling “too close to call”. So now we have to deal with another four years of Bush, another four years of tax cuts for the rich, tax breaks to companies who outsource jobs overseas, and a very real possibility of a reduction in women’s rights. And let’s not forget how American travellers overseas get spit on by complete strangers.

It seems that both the issues I felt strongest about this year have been defeated, and I’m pretty disappointed in my fellow Americans for not seeing what is to me amazingly logical.

I highly recommend that every American sit down and read what Thomas Jefferson had to say about the governing of a country. If we could all do that, maybe we could get some things straightened out.

Herr Gropenfuhrer did, and look how well he’s doing. Vetoed driver’s licenses for illegal immigrants and passed stem cell research. Go Arnie!

Pardon me while I write a couple of rather pointed letters to the President and the head of the Democratic party.

What the hell is up with Ohio? I swear it seems like the tabulators are dragging their feet so their state can be the deciding vote this year.

As of this writing, Kerry needs Ohio and Iowa to tie, Ohio and Wisconsin to win, or toss all four remaining states into the Kerry pile to wipe that smirk off of ol’ Beady-Eyed-Bush.

Crappity. One last check and then it’s bedtime…

Almost 12:30 on Election night, and we’re down to 5 states. 4 states hold 27 electoral votes and then there’s fat, juicy Ohio with 20 whole votes.

I don’t think Kerry is going to win at this point. Sure, he could, but it looks to me like it’s either going to Bush or a tie, in which Bush still wins. (Or at least gets re-appointed; the House of Reps is a GOP majority).

If Kerry manages to get Ohio, it will be close either way. Fingers crossed…

Sitting here watching the news coverage of the election results, I find myself wishing they had hired some sportscasters to be the talking heads. This whole election has taken on the feeling of a Superbowl for me, due to the polarization of the people, and having some of the more colorful spaortsacsters would make for better listening.

Jack-O-Lantern, that is.

I can remember as a child carving pumpkins the week before All Hallow’s and having them last until at least the middle of the next week, but something seems amiss in the patch this year.

Pookie and I murdered a couple big orange gourds last Saturday, and when I went to light them for her today I discovered that hers was soft and growing quite a nice complement of fungus, and mine was getting soft in a couple of places. After only 3 days.

What gives? Has anyone else noticed the decline in pumpkin lifetime? Let me know…

Massive Incorporated Launches World’s First Video Game Advertising Network

Ads will be served during the game – they say it won’t distract from gameplay, and allows marketers to pin down the elusive 18-34 demographic.

When will these fuckers figure out that we don’t want to be advertised to? I have always enjoyed the lack of real advertising in games – it was the only visual entertainment left that didn’t have ads. What’s next? Ads in my sci-fi novels?

A message to all marketing personnel the world over: LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE!! If you want us to buy your products, release demo units to the press and get someone to review it on /. – that’s all you need to get a geek’s attention.

While Greyduck has been writing about fictional interviews I had one the other day.

Well, I guess you could call it an interview…

Greyduck’s boss realized a couple weeks ago that it would take about two months for Greyduck to deploy the 30 replacement computers they had on order, so he authorized hiring a contractor to come and help with the project. Greyduck, of course, knew just who to call. It pays to have an IT guy as a roomie when you’re contracting :)

The call from his boss never came, so I took some action myself and went down to the office to help Duck clear out some room for the inbound shipment, and made sure to be someplace looking useful when the boss came ’round the server room. the interview lasted about 30 seconds, but the net result is that I got the contract, and spent today happily swapping out comps. They only want me to work part-time, which means the project will take about two or three weeks.

Unless, of course, I can talk him into that maintenance contract…

You ever get that feeling that the group of adults you’re in, even though they’re technically your ‘peers’, is older than you?

I took Pookie to the second of the birthday parties this weekend, and this one was much easier on me. The hosts of the party were very good about making sure it wasn’t completely centered on the kids by keeping adult munchies in the kitchen and basically letting the kids play on their own. It was at their house, too, which was a big help.

Anyway, after standing around and chatting with the other parents for a while, I realized that they’re all several years older than me, most of them somewhere in the middle of their 40’s, and what a difference those extra years make. I suddenly felt that I didn’t really fit. It’s not like I was labeled ‘outsider’ or anything, I just knew that no matter what, the only time I would ever willingly spend time with these folks was for my daughter’s sake.

Of course, it didn’t help any that the other fathers were almost all your basic beer-swilling sports fan stereotype. I get along ok with them, but find I get along slightly better with the mothers. One in particular seems to come from my side of the world, as we have similar tastes in music and even know a couple of the same drag queens. (That’s a scary thought.)

Another interesting tidbit of gleaned info:
There is a company here in Oregon that is developing what is known in Sci-Fi dom as a “Bones McCoy” – an injection device that doesn’t use needles to penetrate the skin. (Also called an air hypo.)

This goes to show you that there are alot of inventive people here in the Beaver State – other Oregonian inventions include cable television, the Phillips-head screwdriver, the hacky sack, the computer mouse(!), the Fosbury Flop high-jump technique and the Erector Set building toy.

Maybe the Oregon motto of “She flies with her own wings” should include the number to the Patent Office.