I'm sorry, I can't resist. I related what I thought was an innocent—and funny—story about one of Dalton's friends turning down porn to watch the Lord of the Rings. But ever since then, I keep getting more and more search hits for "LOTR porn." Who are you people? (Is it you, Dalton? Is it? Is it!)
So this, I think, is what you're looking for:
This bizarre statistical reality reminds me of when Michael Moore went to Gingrich's home district and sped across a lake on a motoroboat, yelling into a megaphone, "Say no to big governement! Get your jetskis off this federally funded lake!"
The Democrats' electability predicament comes into focus when you compare the map of Giver and Taker states with the well-worn electoral map of red (Republican) and blue (Democrat) states. You might expect that in the 2000 presidential election, Republicans, the party of low taxes and limited government, would have carried the Giver states—while Democrats, the party of wild spending and wooly bureaucracy, would have appealed to the Taker states. But it was the reverse. George W. Bush was the candidate of the Taker states. Al Gore was the candidate of the Giver states.
... Voters in red states like Idaho, Montana and Wyoming are some of the country's fiercest critics of government, yet they're also among the biggest recipients of federal largess. Meanwhile, Democratic voters in the coastal blue states — the ones who are often portrayed as shiftless moochers — are left to carry the load.
For President Bush, this invisible income redistribution system is a boon. He can encourage his supporters to see themselves as Givers, yet reward them with federal spending in excess of their contribution — and send the bill to those who voted for his opponent. It's shrewd politics.
As it turns out, Trader Joe's lies:
Using salt with iodine instead of kosher pickling salt (which is more expensive) clouds brine. It is not a "natural result", the lying bastards. It is a "cheapass result from cheap liars".
There's also some weird poisonous thing pickle manufacturers do with some lime solution to get pickles crisp, washing off the poison once they're crisp enough. We just stick a grape leaf in the jar, which releases a non-poisonous enzyme that magically crisps pickles. Who the hell discovered that? Did a grape leaf just fall in by accident, and poof--mushy pickles were a thing of the past? For that matter, who the hell developed the "if I soak this preserved food in poison and then wash it off, it will improve it"? Um-UM! Poison!
When my new batch of cinnamons arrives, I will subject you to the cinnamon smelling test. It will indeed change your life.
—Jill Lightner, changing the world one food snob at a time.
Thanks, man. Can't wait for the cimmanon.
PRINCE GEORGE, British Columbia -- Phil Lee, a former construction worker in his 60s, says he'll use some of the nearly $100,000 (US$76,000) he won in the lottery to buy a less than reverent tombstone.
Lee said his headstone will read, "Been there, done that" and show "a champagne glass, a royal flush, a slot machine, a nude woman facing backwards and a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse."
Please, somebody kill this guy. I need to see that headstone.
"The Dead Center," with some good thoughts on the difference between getting elected and getting a strong, sustainable movement going (both of which Republicans have done well):
The rush by many Democrats in recent years to the so-called center has been a pathetic substitute for candid talk about what the nation needs to do and for fueling a movement based on liberal values. In truth, America has no consistent political center. Polls reflect little more than reflexive responses to what people have most recently heard about an issue. Meanwhile, the so-called center has continued to shift to the right because conservative Republicans stay put while Democrats keep meeting them halfway.
The card's in the mail, as requested. So maybe we'll get a Penzeys here after all, although I'm not sure what kind of impact that will have on my life. In the short term, it will get me a cookie from Jill—and for that, I will be grateful. (As long as I've got your attention, Ms. Boom, I just got some pickles from Trader Joe's and the jar juice is whitely opaque, the label explaining, "The cloudy brine is your evidence of fresh-packed pickles." What's up with that?)
While mailing my postcard, I also sent off an almost $800 check to the State of Washington for my "Combined Excise Tax." This reminded me that I also recently sent in a ballot for the first property-tax-funded school-levy ballot ever requiring *me* to actually pay *real money* out of my *real pocket*, now that I'm a member of the landed gentry. I voted for it, still—but that means my fellow Washingtonians are going to get over 1,000 non-sales-tax Hughes dollars this year. If I found out later that you spent it all on beer, I'm going to be really pissed.
Also, a flying penguin update. Cute li'l Piper can cheer for you all she wants, Thad, but don't try to come through me 'cause I ain't the one:
Check out our darling Tiff's handiwork. And, people, please take heed: "Before you decide there's a ghost in your house or move out from fear, do your best to find rational explanations for what you are experiencing." Seriously.
The section on what to tell the kids is also quite nice:
Most children do not know what to expect following the identification of a ghost in their home. Young children may not understand what death really means, let alone about some of the more abstract principles related to 'life after death', and may be confused or even frightened by the reactions of other family members.
"Mommy, does this mean you're crazy?"
"What the hell is a 'program activity'? It sounds like something my son does during 'circle time' at preschool."