Happy St. Pat-Trek's Day

I’ve been catching a few episodes of Star Trek:The Next Generation on one of the higher digital cable channels as of late, and the Trek stuff has been on the mind.
So, in honor of it being March 17th –
I wish everyone a Happy St. Pat-Trek’s Day!
Most of all – watch out for Leper-Khans!

NASCAR 2026

Last year, while driving to the golf course, I had the opportunity to use one of my favorite comments concerning a growing threat in this country as Billiam and I were witnesses and almost victims of the mad driving skillz of a blue-haired bingo crazed card carrying member of the AARP. After hearing a stream of language usually reserved for sailors and inmates come from the seat next to me, I let loose with the phrase that we will be hearing more and more about those Gray Panthers :
“One foot in the grave, the other on the gas.”
Granted, along the way, they’ll have the left or right blinker going, a line of hats and tissue boxes across the rear window, and maybe even in a few years the windshields will be specially designed to be bifocaled – the bottom half for the street and the top half for the signs.
I was all about this article on MSN that gives some numbers behind the nation’s great threat. Absolute truth. The ancients are everywhere, especially in front of me, wherever I go, or more specifically where I WANT to go. Like – the freaking bread aisle in Shop-Rite, any McFastFoodPlace, any kid function be it CCD, Scouts, dance, bowling, weapons camp, or, heaven forbid, the pharmacy (this could spawn a whole new blog entry on the possibility of America’s pharmacies being in reality alien spawn points, where all these aliens take the form of senior citizens – it is more plausible after you think about it for a while).
If our government is truly the overlords we take them to be, these liver-spotted highway clotters may be doing us all a favor and be on a federal mission to enforce the speed limits. By sacrificing themselves as speed drones, they force the rest of the traffic to work with them, of course at this juncture since they are not recognized as helpful they are performing the ultimate sacrifice of causing accidents to prove the point. One can even take the point of calling them Freeway Terrorists.
Sorry dad, but you ARE one of them, and if it’s not because you’re driving too slowly, it’s the complete opposite, and it may be a good thing you’re already home before some schools let out. I give you less than a decade before 65 mph is considered light speed, and you join the rest of the Empire of the Old. Hell – all truth be told, the day that the Porq slows down is the day that my buds and I all settle out and join in on yelling at the kids to get off the lawn.

Tunes During Class

2 trailer park girls go round the outside round the outside round the outside
guess who’s back? Back again
shady’s back
tell a friend

The brotherman and Billiam banged out some recent posts on what was up on their mp3 jukes. I’m currently sitting through one of my online courses, and I have my happy Real player cooking through my library of goodness.
Sure enough, the eminem came to represent. It was backed up by Guster’s What You Wish For.
Right after that came Pocket Full of Kryptonite from the Spin Doctors. I grabbed that piece for my Superman-themed playlist.
The shuffle kicked into high gear and brought me Cake with Love You Madly. Sweet.
Just when I thought I was getting into the class discussion, Taste The Pain was cooking from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Yikes.
To give the speakers a break, my happy go lucky randomizer cued up Wheels by the String-A-Longs. It then snapped up a few decades with Bowie’s Blue Jean. Of course, the mood was getting too happy so it hit me with Lou Reed’s Dirty Boulevard after that.
It’s like the pc knew I was downing, so it blared the horns at me, straight from Perez Prado. Yeah – we’re talking about Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom. Cha cha cha…
My class session was drawing to a close, and with it came one of my favs – Nothing But Flowers by the Talking Heads.

So – that was my quick aside from normal ranting about nothing. I was reminded about the tunes blog right before class when I zipped onto the new myspace site put up by TMBG and they were playing a little from their Spine album (which I do have – sweet) as well as Ana Ng. That got me into the music mode and I fired up the realplayer. The first song I heard from it was really Cliff Richard’s We Don’t Talk Anymore. When eminem came on I had to keep track and let y’all know what may be a typical random in my world.

March 8th

As all of my gentle readers would know by now, I am not one of a sentimental nature. It’s not that I can’t feel emotions, per se, but it has always been my style to be one of a stoic position.
With this freshly renewed in mind, let’s just say that the calendar is making a grand attempt to play upon my heart strings. It’s March 8th.
Big freaking deal. Caesar still lives. But wait – there’s a reason. Let me show an excerpt of something I’m working on:
“Whoever designed the fire alarm’s siren must have either done his research on what works or was a true sadist. It wasn’t so much a siren as a grating unforgiving buzz that has the frequency that resonates in your lower spine. This is the sound that clawed its way through my keg-induced coma and threw my zombie form into a crowded quad of brethren dorm-undead.
Somewhere upstairs my 300 pound roommate laid still sleeping. Not even the alarm sadist took into account the amount of alcohol needed to take a giant down, and no simple noise or shove short of a pimp slap from Jesus Himself was waking that guy. Truly not a hero, or at least not at that moment, I had declared that man “Duraflame” before my drilled sojourn into the night air.
That air was wet and cold, with the hint of spring just hiding, kept at bay by the early March wind. It proved just a shock enough to cause a few synapses to fire up again, and the first few thoughts or memories weren’t real, or at least I could make or place them to be. I certainly wasn’t in a Sultan’s harem chamber, and it was very unlikely that I crash drove the Popemobile into the campus dining hall. It was the memory flashes that came after that fueled the mental marathon that was to come.
I knew something had happened that night. Somewhere, some time amidst the innumerable trips to the keg(s), I met someone…”

Yeah – way back when on this calendar date – I officially met the gal who would turn out to be the Wife™. I seriously don’t think there are many stories like ours, so the next time you have anywhere from five to fifty minutes, I’ll give it to you as thick as you can handle it.
Not that I’m counting, but it’s fifteen years today.

I got a fever...

Sometimes, you just NEED more cowbell.
In this case – you HAVE to go HERE.