According to Title 5 United States Code section 6103(a) the holiday that happens on the third Monday of February is called "Washington's Birthday."
Please forward all defective calendars to your elected representatives for correction and disposal.
Also, I wouldn't be surprised if all "President's Day" sales were illegal. In that case, please forward any money saved to the Internal Revenue Service. Better to be safe than sorry!
Speaking of being better safe, you might want to stop by your workplace today. You could get fired for taking a day off on a holiday that doesn't exist!
This is really starting to sound like a conspiracy, isn't it? if so, please contact your local civil defense authority for a tinfoil hat.
Thank you, and remember: The cooperation of our citizens is exacted with the heartfelt gratitude of a loving Government.
Yes, it's true. Marijuana is poison.
Oh, not literally. I know that marijuana has many medical benefits and I would never deny anyone who needs it the use of it.
No, it's a social poison.
I'm a bus driver and I'm subject to random drug testing. Marijuana stays in the system for six weeks after use and, since I never know when the drug test will occur, I need to stay away from it.
Lame, yes.
(Personally, I don't like it and I don't like the way it makes me feel. I'm sure I'll change my opinion when I get terminal cancer, of course....)
Recently, I was at a party. Things were going fine. Then one of the guests broke out a joint.
Not the hostess. A guest.
It's possible that the guest was invited to bring some happy weed. I don't know. I'm pretty sure the hostess wasn't a regular pot smoker. It seemed that, since this was an outdoor party, smoking materials were implicitly permitted.
I left. It's not so much that I like my job, it's that when I do get fired, I want to get fired for the right reasons.
So. Marijuana is a social poison. It made me leave a party (and a hostess) that I very much wanted to be with.
And besides, why the hell did the person with the joint feel free to light up? It wasn't his home. It wasn't his party. Why did he do this?
And why do we have a culture where this seemingly innocent act has such tragic repurcussions?
Marijuana legalization will only make this worse. It will soon become a choice between walking on the street in public places and losing my job.
So. Marijuana is poison. It's killing me.
FROM 0500 UTC WEDNESDAY 18 JANUARY 2012 to 0500 UTC THURSDAY 19 JANUARY 2012 THIS WEB PAGE IS CLOSED. PLEASE CLOSE YOUR BROWSER AT THIS TIME.
I don't know how to actually close this page and I doubt there are more than three people who would notice anyway. Nevertheless, this page will be closed and you may not read it.
This page is closed to protest the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) in the U.S. House of Representatives, and the PROTECT IP Act (PIPA) in the U.S. Senate. These bills seek only to turn control of the internet to Hollywood interests in blatant violation of the First Amendment of the United States Constitution and this blog will not stand for it.
Do not complain to me about this blog's closure. Please alert your elected representatives at all levels of government that internet censorship is preventing you from accessing the content you wish to access. Do it now, and in 24 hours, you may return to this blog.
But for now, this page is closed.
Move along.
Not to say that I hang out in a lot of bars or anything, but I get around. These seem to be the trends in BAR TV:
There ya go! So, if you ever get the urge to run CNN with the captions on, now you know better.
Originally posted in a completely obscure location but that doesn't mean it's not important (IMNSHO). So, reposting:
| CO149's Fundamental Dictum Number One TM |
|---|
| The packet has to know how to get back, too. |
CO149's Corollary Dictum Number 1.1 TM
All the boxes on the same wire have to have the same ideas about routing.
| CO149's Fundamental Dictum Number Two TM |
|---|
| The network has a middle. |
CO149's Illuminative Dictum Number 2.1 TM
The network's middle is bigger than your middle.
Senator Stevens' Fundamental Illustrative Utterance Number 2.2TM
The network is not a big truck. It's a series of tubes.
| CO149's Fundamental Dictum Number Three TM |
|---|
| The network you are using is experimental technology and always will be. |
CO149's Corollary Dictum Number 3.1 TM
Legacy equipment belongs in a museum.
| CO149's Fundamental Dictum Number Four TM |
|---|
| The network is operated by people. |
CO149's Sage Advice Number 4.1 TM
Never, ever mess with the servers on a Friday. Just quietly catch up on paperwork and go home early.
| CO149's Fundamental Dictum Number Five TM |
|---|
| The network is constructed of physical components. |
CO149's Sudden Realization Number 5.1 TM
There is more than one cloud.
Currently, there are a lot of smelly, pissed-off people in Seattle's Westlake Park, and many other central plazas throughout the nation. They are protesting the state of the economy, the concentration of capital, the tax system, the war, police brutality, and each other's body odor.
The media and the pundits decry the fact that these poor souls can't get it together, can't define a "narrow message," can't elect eloquent spokesmen and, apparently, can't protest in polo shirts instead of funny little hemp dreadlock containers.
Well, here's one narrow message that forms a common thread throughout: Control.
Adlai Stevenson, who lost to Dwight Eisenhower in 1952, once said, "In America, anyone can become president. That's one of the risks you take."
Sixty years later, that risk is gone. If you want to be president in the 21st century, you have to be a native-born citizen, 35 years of age, 14 years resident in the US, and have one billion dollars cash in your pocket.
Money talks, you see. And hippies walk.
Used to be we were all created equal. But a series of court decisions from 1886 to the present day have strengthened the rights of large piles of money to take part in American political discourse, to the detriment of the individual trying to do the same.
I speak, of course, of corporate personhood: the idea that a large, organized pile of money, immortal, immune from arrest or execution, and perhaps even an entity of a foreign country, has the same constitutional rights as, well, as me. And you. And those smelly kids in the park downtown.
So, not only does 1% of the population have all the money, that 1% has the voice.
And that's what the real issue is. Well, almost.
History has shown that, time and again, you can take the voice from a group of people in order that your voice be made louder, in order that you may seize control of the body politic for your personal gain. Or, in this case, so that a large pile of money can hold political power as well as economic power.
Sooner or later, though, those silenced mouths start feeling a hunger, a hunger to speak, a hunger to have control over their own lives and their own fates.
These are the voices of those "99%" who have no control over their future, their country's future, or even the source of their next meal. The 99% that the big piles of money don't care about.
No one has figured this out yet, but they also speak for the remaining humanity of the "1%" who think they control those big piles of money. Their economic freedom is an illusion. They are the slaves of those big piles of money. Unwitting but willing, wearing golden collars handcuffs, and blinded by their comfort, they have it worse than the rest of us. The big piles of money are throwing their slaves under the bus in an act of self preservation.
So, I humbly submit my version of the narrow message: Dear Bankers -- give us back control of our country so that we can break our chains. And yours, too.
But first a word from our sponsor:
South on Second,
North on Fourth.
South on Second,
North on Fourth.
[WTF sponsor is that, Dude?]
It's me. I sponsor my own damned blog because everyone else is too stupid cheap smart to give me any money for this.
[Whatever.]
OK -- Now on to our Main Message:
RULE ONE: if you drive in Downtown Seattle, STAY OFF THIRD AVENUE. Always. 24/7. Just pretend it doesn't exist.
[But Dude, it's not closed all day . . . just during rush hour]
Which is when, exactly?
[Uhh . . . 6-9 AM and 3-6:30 PM, right?]
Why, yes, that's right. And what time is it right now?
[Uhh . . . well, it's 8:55 AM, so I'm OK, right?]
I dunno, are you? I have seen one motorcycle officer pull over not one, not two, not three, but four, count 'em FOUR motorists on Third Avenue . . . at 8:57 AM! Yes! It's true! Officer Friendly would love to get your $124 -- the city does have a budget problem, ya know?
[Fine, fine. So will you get to your point?]
No, not yet. First I'm going to tell you why you don't want to drive on Third Avenue.
RULE TWO: There is nothing on Third Avenue you want to drive to.
[What if you're wrong?]
RULE THREE: Then there's no place to park when you get there.
[Are you sure?]
Of course. Besides, once you're on Third Avenue,
RULE FOUR: You can't turn left, regardless of what the signs say.
[Get real.]
Well, have you tried? All that oncoming traffic? Why bother? See Rule One.
[But besides that?]
Besides that...
RULE FIVE: Third is full of buses.
[Well, yeah. So?]
RULE FIVE-A: Worse, Third is full of trolley buses.
[Trol--what?]
Trolley buses. These are the ones with the poles on the wires.
[I thought trolleys were like those things in San Francisco with all the tourists hanging out.]
No. Those are cable cars. Technically a trolley is a vehicle that gets power from overhead electrical wires. A trolley trolls (trawls?) for power. SRSLY.
But that's not the point.
[Oh?]
The point is that whenever a trolley bus goes through a switch, a trail-in, or a cross-ever (collectively "special work"), it has to slow down to 5 MPH.
So, let me ask you: Do you know where all the special work on Third is?
[Uh . . . no.]
Thought not. So, not only is Third full of buses, it's full of buses that slow down to 5 MPH WITHOUT WARNING! This brings us to the next rule --
RULE SIX: Only crazy people drive on Third Avenue.
[Are you calling me crazy?]
Are you driving on Third Avenue?
[Uhh . . .]
Do you think bus drivers are crazy?
[Hell, yeah!]
And Third is full of buses, right?
[Well, yeah.]
So, Third is full of crazy drivers.
[Hey! You're right!]
Glad to see you getting the picture. So, let me tell you the biggest reason not to drive on Third Avenue:
RULE SEVEN: YOU'RE IN THE WAY!
[What?]
SRSLY. I have people to get to work, or to get home from work. When you drive on Third, you're in the way of all the people on my bus. And the bus behind me. And the bus behind that.
It's entirely possible that you are single-handedly preventing 500 people from getting to work on time.
[Yeah, so? Fuck 'em!]
I'll tell them you said that.
[Good!]
Then I'll open the doors so they can respond in person.
[Uh . . .]
All 500 of them.
[Fine, fine! I'll get off Third. Happy? But now what do I do?]
See Rule One:
South on Second,
North on Fourth.
South on Second,
North on Fourth.
[Sigh.]
Yup. The life you save may be your own!
Editor, The Times:
On June 29 and July 24, this paper came out against the proposed $20 per year congestion fee to be levied against automobile registrations. Rarely does this paper opine twice on the same subject; to do so twice in four weeks is unheard of. I get it. This paper is against the fee. In both editorials, the paper suggests that the drivers are overpaid and that county negotiators made a mistake in allowing our wages to grow so high.
I am a part-time operator for King County Metro Transit. in 2010, I moved 35,000 riders from Point A to Point B and earned $14,400. Metro provides an essential service, and I am proud to be a small part of that effort.
Naturally, I support the fee. I'm currently low on the seniority totem pole and failure to pass the congestion fee will almost certainly result in my losing my job. Thus is my interest in this matter fully disclosed.
This paper justifies its position by saying that our drivers are the third-highest paid bus drivers in the country. This is true only in absolute dollar-for-dollar terms. When the cost of living in each of the studied cities is considered, King County drivers rank 17th in compensation.
This paper rightly notes that our union has yielded a cost of living adjustment for next year. If I work the same hours this year as last, this concession will cost me $432. I also own a car, and will pay the $20 fee. My money is where my mouth is. (Literally. My wife and I live a paycheck-to-paycheck existence the editors of this paper will never experience. But we receive neither welfare nor food stamps. For now.)
Also, all bus drivers own cars. There's no bus running at 3 a.m. to take us to work.
Jesus, in Luke 6:29 says, "To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from him who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt." I've been slapped on both cheeks and have already given up my coat. Here's my shirt. Now let me keep working.
I won't couch the fee in terms of lattes, cigarettes or any other luxury item. But I note that $20 does pay for this paper to be delivered for four weeks. Your readers may find this information valuable when they're balancing their budgets.
Christopher Osburn
Seattle
I suspect that this failure exists in other languages too. It's also possible that "imperative" is not the case I'm looking for, but something completely different.
Let's start with an example. I look at you and I say:
"Dance."
Your immediate reaction is, "Uhhh...music?"
The problem is, I'm not telling you to dance this instant. I'm actually telling you to alter your lifestyle to incorporate dance from now until you die. I could be explicit, of course. I could say "Do incorporate dance into your lifestyle." But that's not really want I want to say.
I just want to say, "Dance."
Is there an explicit verb conjugation for that?