February 14, 2004
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02:07 PM | category: Square Pegs
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07:56 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 13, 2004
Donna: "If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights."
-- West Wing --
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06:37 PM | category: Square Pegs
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Edmonton Oilers goalie Ty Conklin looked over and saw teammate Mike Bishai trading punches with Serge Aubin from the Atlanta Thrashers' bench.He wanted to watch, but with Thrashers netminder Pasi Nurminen ready to go, Conklin had his own business to take care of.
Conklin and Nurminen brawled at center ice to cap a wild brawl late in Edmonton's 5-1 victory the Thrashers on Wednesday night.
The melee resulted in 12 fighting majors, 10 game misconducts and two minors for 164 penalty minutes.
"It looked like a pretty normal game going into the third period, and then a number of bizarre circumstances created what ended up being great entertainment," Oilers coach Craig MacTavish said.
Lifted from Off Wing Opinion, who I found thanks to Nic.
And since we're reading a little hockey, check out the Meatriarch's ideas on changes to the current rules. Makes sense to me, except for the last one. But then, nobody will ever mistake me for a little guy.
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07:06 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 10, 2004
I cleaned straightened my desk last weekend, so it's not nearly as bad as it was. All the boring details are in the extended entry.
And now it's your turn. more...
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08:30 PM | category: Square Pegs
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321 SPS
D Flight
321 SPG
321 Bomb Wing
Ramstein AB, Germany
Flugtag Airshow Disaster
EISD
... I'll explain later (probably tomorrow)
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03:57 PM | category: Square Pegs
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February 07, 2004
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10:54 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 06, 2004
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06:20 PM | category: Square Pegs
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About an hour later, the doorbell rang. It was the UPS guy. He said he'd been making a pickup nearby, so he thought he'd try to deliver to our house again since he was in the neighborhood. That was a nice piece of customer service!
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10:34 AM | category: Square Pegs
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Thanks to LeeAnn (who else?) for pointing this one out.
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07:40 AM | category: Square Pegs
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I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.
Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.
Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle.at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness, all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.
I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently required when riding. Little did I suspect.
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it-it was that close.
I hate to run over animals.and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for "Banzai!" or maybe "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street.and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.
I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel.
This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.
This was an evil attack squirrel of death!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in, well, I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle, my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.
The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand.I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked. Sort of. Spectacularly sort of, so to speak.
Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger.
That is one dangerous squirrel.
And now he has a patrol car.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.
As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
Posted by: Ted at
05:47 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 05, 2004
Our county does something similar with vehicles. Occasionally, they'll obtain a car or truck - drug dealer or drag racer confiscation* - and the county will turn it into an unmarked police car. Their latest is a silver Cadillac Escalade SUV with tinted windows, and there isn't a flashing light or extra antenna to be seen - until it's too late.
So if you're ever driving through Prince William County in Virginia, and you see a purple Corvette waiting to make a right turn at an intersection, slow down or you'll have a not-so-good story to tell later.
*In this area, getting busted street racing is automatic grounds for not only losing your license, but your vehicle too.
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07:09 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 04, 2004
No link to them, it's down at the bottom of the right column if you're interested. I haven't visited them, so I don't know what's at the other end. Caveat emptor.*
*did I spell that right?
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12:07 PM | category: Square Pegs
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February 03, 2004
That got me to reminiscing in his comments about my first really memorable Christmas gun (we were big on toy guns, deal with it).
Which led to me googling for information about this: The Secret Sam Attache Case. Man, I remember when toys were cool.
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02:46 PM | category: Square Pegs
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This really points up two things. First, these two are typical of today's "entertainers" who's singing abilities can't stand on their own, so they have to slut it up or do something shocking in order to stand out. Next time, try hiring talent for the show instead of flash.
Second, why in world did these two nitwits (and behind the scenes handlers) try to deny it in the first place? I'd ground my kids in a heartbeat if they lied to me about some stupid stunt they pulled. Janet and Justin should be held to the same basic standard. You screwed up, you admit it.
Ya know, if there's one thing that baseball does better than football, it's maintain its dignity. The baseball All-Star game means something, and the World Series is handled with class and celebrates the game. Football is going down the path towards WWF-dom. Lowest-common-denominator marketing. It's not the sizzle you should be pushing, it's the steak.
Jeez, I hate the Super Bowl.
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12:05 PM | category: Square Pegs
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So what does one do when you're here before the systems are up? Well, there are status reports, filing and organizing, and that pile o' crap in your "do when really bored" pile.
And quizzes. (in the extended entry).
Thanks to Pixy and annika for this one. I think. more...
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06:36 AM | category: Square Pegs
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February 02, 2004
In the extended entry. more...
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01:32 PM | category: Square Pegs
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We had an interesting and entertaining development during January. An unknown person posted a note on the fridge door complaining about food being left for extended periods of time. On the note was a prominent arrow pointing to two plastic containers full of mold sitting on top of the refrigerator. One heap of mold looked vaguely triangular, leading me to believe that it may have once been pizza. They sat there for a week until disgust moved someone to actually transport the containers to the dumpster. It's probably a good thing that I didn't think to take pictures until it was too late.
The egg nog remains in place.
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08:15 AM | category: Square Pegs
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You should get a copy to read their excellent complete descriptions, but here I'm going to briefly touch on each and some of their lesser-known duties and roles.
Referee: Final authority of the crew, he's responsible for all calls concerning the quarterbacks and kickers. To become the 'head', he must best other officials in mock gladiatorial combat using whistles and weighted flags.
Field Judge: Key in determining pass interference and whether ball carrier crosses the goal line. An obscure rule requires this official to have webbed toes.
Line Judge: Responsible for calling offsides and false starts, as well as whether illegal players are downfield before ball is kicked. A rather unglamorous position among the crew, his chief perk is that he gets the locker with best view of the cheerleaders at Philadelphia's Veterans stadium.
Back Judge: Concentrates on action involving tight end. Monitors 25- and 40- second play clocks for delay of game calls. Because of prominent position on field of play, during the last contract negotiations the Back Judge was almost required to wear advertising gimmick of home stadium sponsor. This idea was dropped when Enron wanted official to wear a giant chrome screw protruding from back of pants.
Umpire: Responsible for keeping emotional players separated, holding calls along the line and interference calls on short passes. The toughest of the officials, these are the guys who consistently get run over during the game. By tradition they automatically get 'shotgun' to and from game.
Head Linesman: He calls encroachment, offsides and false starts, marks the spot of a ballcarrier's forward progress and oversees the chain crew. Also responsible for holding and evenly distributing tips and bribes among crew. Must write thank you notes.
Side Judge: Same general duties as Field Judge, minus requirement for webbed toes. This is the only official specifically mentioned in the Mayflower Compact of 1620.
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06:30 AM | category: Square Pegs
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