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Rant

A 66-post collection

Feeling heavy

I feel heavy.

Not a physical heaviness. More a spiritual weight that drags me down to the point where I don’t feel like anything can lift me back up.

I don’t know why I’m feeling this down.

The house is clean. I’m on top of the laundry. I’m on top of the dishwashing. I’m on top of the floor - keeping it clean, that is.

I should be on top of the world.

But I’m not.

I feel like if I lie down, I’ll just sink into the centre of the earth.

And nobody would notice.

I want/need to do something stupidly rewarding. Or rewardingly stupid. Something that makes me clap and squeal because it’s all working… and then catch myself out for being a massive nerd/tard.

But I can’t think of anything ‘cause I’m down. Feh.

I’ll play some music and some Minecraft and hope that works.

But don’t worry - by the time you read this, I’ll be long out of this feeling. Or into a new one. I’m very easily distracted :)

America is going to eat itself

…and possibly take most of the world with it.

Just because I haven’t been contributing to the OWS threads, lately, doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping track of things.

One thing I’ve learned from the patterns of history is this: If a nation does not stop itself from an impending fall, it will plummet all the way to the bottom and then some. Especially if it’s been warned by everybody and

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It's raining, it's pouring...

Every time we try to fix the house or our land, it effing pours with rain.

When we tried to fix the patio, it rained almost nonstop for two months and Southeast Queensland got flooded.

Now we’re fixing up Mayhem’s room, it’s pouring nonstop. For two weeks, now.

At least the drainage ditch is working and we don’t have a small swamp happening in the back of our house.

OTOH, we have miniature lakes

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Spinning my wheels...

I hate wasting time.

Lots of things that need to get done depend highly on other people doing them. Because I lack the skills, the knowledge, the money or the resources to do it myself. So I end up sitting around waiting for other people to get the thumb out of their collective butts.

Time bleeds away. Hour by hour.

I’ve organized and packed the kids’ bags so they’re ready for school. I’ve matched and

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Progress and AntiProgress

Sir Terry Pratchett argued convincingly that everything must have it’s opposite. Not just the light-dark opposite, but the opposite that goes through the conventional, traditional opposite and out the other side.

We have progress. What I’m having is a kind of anti-progress that has gone through retention and out the other side.

I am getting fit enough to take the dog around two blocks -yay- BUT, on the anti-progress side, I’ve been struck from asthma as

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Quick diets and why they fail

I’m more aware of them, now that I’m trying to lose weight. The advertisements. The shill proclaiming their new product and ONLY their product will help you reach your target weight and stay there.

It’s all bullshit.

Especially the ones where they claim you -yes, you!- can drop an extravagant number of pounds/kilos in an amazingly short time.

What they never tell you is that you -yes, you!- inevitably yo-yo back up again

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YouTube's Ban-Bot and Why it Has to Die

YouTube has a little automated gizmo that scans a submitted work and flags it according to whether or not it contains previously copyrighted material.

It does not evaluate whether the work is Fair Use.

Thus, every time I submit a video these days, I get a nice, automated email saying my submission has been flagged as containing someone else’s stuff and I have to go file a protest to get it unbanzored.

Theoretically, the ban-bot should be flagging outright copyright

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Clever Dog, Not Smart Dog.

The hound, by daylight known as Max, loves rounding up our neighbour’s cows. I’m pretty certain that the neighbours feel less than charitable about that.

Another neighbour dislikes Max barking at the cows, the birds, etc. while he’s on his leash and has complained. Twice. I’m sure he has a few names for the dog that aren’t printable.

So in order to keep both neighbours happy, we have been attempting to fix

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F*king Cashmas Carols

I usually refer to the Great Christmas Shopping Push from October to December as “Cashmas”. It isn’t the slightest bit about celebrating the holiday season, it’s about getting your money.

Buy a tree. Buy decorations. Spend a fortune on rellos you hardly ever see because it’s that time of year and you have to show them you care and why not use that credit card until it smokes?

Yeah. How about fuck off?

I

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Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Someone, somewhere, theorised that we spend half our lives waiting for something to happen.

Be that in a queue or in waiting rooms, or sitting around and waiting for someone in power to get the thumb out of their divot and get things done.

I, currently, have wasted half my day waiting for the men of the house to get their hairy arses into gear so we can finally finish fixing that fucking fence. They apparently spent all night programming - at

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Nostalgia For Never Was

Remember all those sitcoms where people helped people out? The dream worlds like The Waltons or Leave It To Beaver? If a Neighbour was experiencing trouble, the whole neighbourhood pitched in to help.

I’m more convinced than every that it was just a dream. An impossible utopia that everyone pretends was real so they can say, “things were better when…”

In the real world, some busybody Neighbour would have reported the Cleavers to CPS because their kid

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Due to Circumstances Beyond My Control...

I had to spend my “me money” on groceries.

You might not think this is such a big freakin’ deal. You’re entitled to your opinions. Hell, you’re entitled to tl;dr everything I write. Just like I’m entitled to write what I want, when I want.

And, right now, I want to vent some spleen.

I don’t spend a lot on myself for several reasons: 1) I’m hella fussy.

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Excuse me?

This guy had an interesting rant. What it boils down to is: Do what you like, just don’t ruin Christmas.

What.

The.

Fuck.

You have corporate assholes quietly and insidiously ruining your kids’ future, and that’s fine, just so long as no-one yells about it during a fucking Santa Claus parade?

We’re not allowed to speak because someone made your kid cry? What?

I’d image macro this with Professor Farnsworth saying “I

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Hubby's Shoe Adventure

Hubby had the quasi-ignorant opinion that I could find the perfect shoe if I knew where to look.

Let me outlay the criteria for you:

Comfortable.
Flat heel.
Decent tread.
Hard-wearing.
Leather sole. 
Size 9-10.
Sandal. 

Yeah, I have big feet. And no, I can’t go to drag shops for shoes because (a) I don’t know where any are and (b) I suspect they’d be full of 9-inch heel FMB’s. I can not wear

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