Article of the Day

Snooty Europhiles should be forced to crawl in penitence, by Boris Johnson, is quite a fun little article. I like this guy's style.

And I'll add, I heard about a month ago Estonia was moving forward with taking on the Euro. For real? Don't they see what's happening?!

Misadventure to the Beer Store

Stupid bus.

I stayed late at work Friday, till after six. I was supposed to meet somebody, but plans changed, so I went to catch the 6:15 #50 bus, which was lucky because it's the only bus I can take and it only runs every 45 or so.

I was out there by 6:10, because the Stupid #50 Bus has a propensity for earliness. Technically the bus schedule should be read +/- 3 minutes, but the #50 has no regard for punctuality, or the lives ruined by leaving bus stops without the people they should be carrying. At 6:25 I gave up waiting.

Instead of waiting a half hour for the next bus, I decided to hike to the beer store--make the most of my time, do something productive. It's not that far from work, fifteen minutes in the snow, but I wouldn't normally go after work because I'm always in a rush to get home. The beer store is a place that sells micro-brewed beer from the tap--it's the only Lithuanian beer I'll buy besides Gubernijos, and it's very good but also cheap: great combo!

I slip on the ice a few times on the way, without falling but with some strain on my left quadricep. The beer store is in a large shopping complex including a mall surrounded by other smaller buildings each with one or more shops or service business.

I'd never come from that direction so I wasn't sure if I was at the right place--there was no beer store. I called my special lady to ask, because the one time we'd been to this location together she was driving. I'm just not finding it, she thought. But no, asking around got me the truth: the beer store has moved about 80 meters to a different location. Where is it, exactly? Nobody can tell me. The information booth in the mall is closed. But I've come too far now to quit, so I just keep wandering around in the dark asking people if they know.

My special lady gave me the administrative phone number from the beer store website, which is supposed to operate 24/7. No answer. I talked to Auriukas, who lives close to there, but he just new that they'd moved not far and "on the same side." Hmm.

Finally I went into a farmers marker. There were a just a few vendors left. I went up to a booth with a woman and her son and asked them. "Yes," she said, "they're new location is right over there," she pointed, "but they haven't opened yet, they're still just moving in." Ugh. When the woman offered me some kvass instead I felt too defeated to say no. Then she offered me some bacon, and I ate two pieces before realizing that I'm a vegetarian this month. Oops. I felt bad for not living up to Ed and Moacir better--but, really, wouldn't you be caught off guard if somebody randomly offered you some bacon in that situation?! It's only my second active day of vegetarianism.

After that I walk to the closest bus stop and am pleased that the #50 bus is about to come. Five minutes later I give up waiting for it yet again. Stupid bus.

Thanks Time

As always we celebrated Thanksgiving on the Saturday following the holiday. That week I gave all of my students articles to read about the objectivist perspective on it.

We decided to do a smaller, more family oriented celebration this year, which we soon realized was a mistake when we couldn't invite everyone we wanted to. But everything was delicious:

• 16 lb. Turkey, freshly slaughtered and kefir marinated
• Gravy
• Cream of Pumpkin Soup
• Potato Dinner Rolls from my McCall's cookbook
• Roasted Carrots with Whiskey Glaze
• Sausage Stuffing
• Guacamole and fresh vegetables
• Potato and Bacon Salad
• Sauerkraut Rye Bread
• Fresh Pumpkin Pie 1 normal, 1 with whiskey mixed in
• Fresh Pumpkin Cake

The pumpkin cake was unplanned. I made two pies, but that only used up about two thirds of the batter! To use up the rest of the batter without a pie crust to pour it into I mixed in some flour and baking power, tossed in some walnuts, and baked it. It turned out really well, and it stayed moist for a whole week as I took a piece to work with my lunch each day.

The turkey was succulent. I'll be marinating it this way from now on.

The stuffing was the best part of the meal, as always. Well, maybe the gravy was better, but when combined they were unstoppable.

After dinner we played Oh Hell a couple times, then Octopus, then Tūkstantis, then we hit the sauna and the pool. The pool was frozen, so we went polar bear style. I'm not sure how it happened, but after jumping into the hole in the ice I had some scrapes on my legs. Very fun night!

Article of the Day

For Tottering States, Bankruptcy Could Be the Answer, by Michael Barone, is a very interesting idea. I wonder why I've never heard of that.

Robin Hood Review

Robin Hood (2010 ) was a mess. There were a number of things that made no sense, culminating most notably in the final scene when French soldiers invaded England in what, the 13th century, using Higgins boats (invented specifically for use in WWII), the French soldiers are then pummeled with arrows from mystery archers, and their remaining forces are slaughtered by soldiers on horseback suddenly and inexplicably including Marion Loxley and her ragtag squad of sickly orphan runaways who have inexplicably and miraculously become ninjas over the past week. It was fitting that a movie with so many holes in it ended this way. Why the hell did they show the white horse, incidentally? Just one more anachronism I had to look up after watching the movie.

But it wasn't all bad. I didn't feel like giving up on the movie until only about 30 minutes remained, and I'll tell you why. The symbolism was quite intersting.

General Symbols
•By increasing spending and especially taxes the democratic party is Very Evil, and it gives our enemies a golden opportunity to divide and attack us.
•The French are untrustworthy and devious.

Specifically
•King Richard was George Bush: start a costly war that will supposedly pay for itself, and right before it's over hand your crown over to the next ruler.
•King John: the naive, inexperienced ruler who takes over at the end of a war that has turned from popular to terribly unpopular; raise taxes to the point they can only be collected by force because they're starving people; abandon all previously embraced bipartisan notions once your position's been secured.

I'd say the 6.9 IMBb gives the movie may be a bit too high, but in the vicinity. I should mention that I watched the unrated version, which is I think 10 or 15 minutes longer than what you may have seen in theaters.

Article of the Day

When Thought Becomes a Crime, By Richard Cohen, makes a very good point. Several of them, actually. A crime is a crime. Why does what you think about it make a difference?

Article of the Day

Post Office Shows Where U.S. Is Headed, by Kevin Hassett, is a scary account of what America's future could be like. The evacuation part made me laugh though.

Tonsillectomy

I'm very anti-surgery, but after having tonsillitis and laryngitis four times last winter, I decided to do it. Especially after the surgeon showed me how much puss is in them when I'm feeling healthy. That was over the summer.

To the hospital I brought The Lord of the Rings, which I'm half way through. I also brought half of the 7th Harry Potter book on tape, which I have not read before, on my mp3 player. All I could fit was 14 chapters, which I will comment on more later.

I had to show up at the hospital at 7 a.m. unfed and unfueled. They had lost my file when I went to registration, but for some reason that was no problem, they just started me up a new one. I took it to go meet my surgeon. He didn't show up until 8, but I suppose maybe sometimes it takes people an hour to get through registration (it only took me ten minutes), so he tells all his patients to show up at 7. I'm glad I was smart enough to arrange a book on tape for myself, because at 7:10 with no nourishment or coffee my eyes were not yet ready for reading.

He showed up, looked at my blood test results and the dispatch from my family physician. I had to take them downstairs to get my health history. What's that, you say? I don't know. But I got so lost on the way, it was just unbelievable. First I was on the wrong floor, then I was in the wrong wing, then I just walked right past it.

Got that, went back up to the 8th floor, found out I was scheduled for 11 o'clock (nobody told me this, but I noticed it on the secretary's clipboard), go into the room where three other guys are, which means I get the bed by the sink. I get changed and then taken to the inspection room, where a young women looks me over; I guess it was an intern doing this for practice. She asked me about anesthesia, asked me if I want local or general, but I hadn't discussed this with my surgeon, so she went to get him. He recommended general, which sounded great to me, since my only anesthesia ever has been getting my wisdom teeth out, which was more fun than practically any chemical experience I can recall. My father recounts it thus: on the way home, I only took break in laughing hysterically to spit blood in a McDonald's cup. He wishes he'd brought along a camcorder.

Then, back in the room, came the anesthesiologist. She called up each of us individual to sign off, and I took the longest because I read things before I sign them. Besides that, though, I also asked her questions. I told her that just yesterday a colleague told me general anesthesia takes five years off your life, is that true? She told me it was an urban legend, but that got my roomies started asking questions too. Then the anesthesiologist got frustrated and answered very tersely memory and coordination are weak for a few days and that's it.

Half way through signing I stopped to ask about whether the choice of local or general anesthesia would affect my release--as I had told my surgeon, I was determined to leave today. I live literally five minutes away and could return if there was any bleeding. The anesthesia made no difference, and I was in for the jollies, so I signed up for general.

After a few hours of Harry Potter they came to get me. I called the wife and told her I'd be done in about an hour, and to bring the camcorder! As I went in things began to get surreal: taking off my crocs and putting on a hairnet, sticking my right arm into my pants so that it wouldn't fall off the stretcher once I go under...and then I woke up.

No jollies. Well, I suppose I felt jolly for about 15 seconds while I was still under the impression that I ought to be jolly. Then I realized that whatever they gave me wasn't nearly as jolly as Valium and nitrous oxide. I was asked something. I think they asked me if I'm light-headed, and I said sort of. I crawled back onto the stretcher and they rolled me back to my room. On the way I saw my special lady and baby waiting for me, and that was jolly indeed, but probably not worth video taping.

My women had to leave soon because of parking. No free parking at the hospital. I went back to Harry Potter until 3:45--that's when the workday ends on Fridays in education, so I was getting very antsy. My roommates' surgeons had come in to see them almost as soon as they'd been rolled in, and I'd been waiting more than two hours. I needed to know if there were any complications before the doc left so I'd know if I could leave.

I went to look around the inspection room, then I went down to his office and his door was ajar. I knocked and went it. "How are you, what's up," he said. I was still groggy and didn't know what to say. "Uh," I began. Then I added, "I thought you were gonna come to me." Well put.

He told me he'd come see me in a few minutes, and he did. First he told my other roommate that his surgery went perfectly. Then he came over and told me mine also went "fine" but that my pus filled tonsils sure looked like shit. Well he didn't say shit, but he said they did not look nice. They must never look nice or else why would you cut them out? Therefore, if mine were that much worse than usual, I conclude he must of been thinking they look like shit.

I told him I still wanted to go home, and he said I could but he doesn't recommend it. There could still be bleeding and...what was the other thing? I don't remember. This was about 4:26 p.m.; as soon as he left I wrote my special lady an sms: "I'll get a shot of pain killers around 7-8 o'clock, then home!"

Next sms at 6:05 p.m.: "I don't know if I should come come tonight. My throat hurts too much to drink, so I need the IV for now...I'll let you know."

By 6:30 I'd decided I couldn't go home. I was thinking about how crazy it would be to go home when I can't get any fluids in me. This is after seriously considering giving myself an IV drip at home. Sms: "Copy as many chapters of harry potter as you can onto your mp3 player to bring me. You can come whenever you want, bring some games and ice cream!"

Nobody came to visit because the baby's molars are coming in. I still had several harry potter chapters left, but they wouldn't last through the night, and I didn't know how much sleep I would be able to get.

Now it's time to explain why I didn't bring more audio book. I thought as I was copying it onto the mp3 player, If I come out of this surgery as high as I was after getting my wisdom teeth out, I should definitely have some good tunes available. So I left myself Creedence Clearwater Revival...and Movie Soundtracks by Tetukas 2008...and Sublime...and The Very Best of Queen...how silly could I possibly feel? Well whatever that maximum is, that's how I felt.

Estimating that it might be more comfortable to read now than when the lights are out, I switched to the Lord of the Rings. I finished up the battle at Helm's Deep and decided to go to sleep 7:33. I was in the middle of a chapter, but I was feeling okay after the pain killer shot in the ass cheek and decided to fall asleep while I can. It worked. The last sms I wrote before going to sleep was "Phone's dying. Pick me up with cards at 8. Love to A." That's because the last message I got included a self portrait of my daughter all sad because I'm in the hospital.

I woke up to take a whiz around four. I'd woken up at least twice before that because I'd caught my catheter on something while moving my arm. I listened to half a chapter of audio book before ralizing I could still fall asleep again. Hooray!

I woke up and didn't know what time it was, because my phone was dead. There were no clocks around. It was dark though, so I figured 6-7. Audio books.

When it started to get brighter outside I began to worry. I didn't know what the schedule for the IV drip, pain killers, and check up was for the morning. I'd written 8 o'clock purely from optimism, and now it was too late to write again to delay. I went out to the hallway and could find neither clock nor sister...I mean nurse. In Lithuanian nurses are called sisters.

The nurses' computer was left unattended. I move the mouse and am not at the log in screen. Nope, I'm right at the desktop! It's 7:45. I press on the e icon excitedly, but then dismay as the hospital intranet logo pops up, but then rejoice as i type a y and yahoo.com pops up all by itself! I check email and face, and wrote this in a comment: "...i'm in the hospital illegally joinking internet acces through a secretary's computer."

I get up from the computer rather quickly, because I don't want to get in trouble with the nurse. I still want her to take care of me as soon as possible. Soon she shows up and we have a stupid conversation:

She: Hi.
I: Hi.
She: What can I do for you?
I: I was wondering when am I going to get this IV drip?
She: Let me check your file to see if you're supposed to get another one.
I: IF??? What do you mean IF? Why would they have left the catheter in last night if I wasn't supposed to get another one?
She: Okay, so you are.
I: When?
She: We'll let you know.
I: Let's do it now.
She: Oh, so now you're going to determine your course of treatment?
I: Why not? My family's coming to pick me up soon and I don't want to make my kids wait longer than necessary.
She: *sign* Okay, I'll be in shortly.
I: Thank you!

She did come in shortly, hook up the IV, and give me another shot in the ass cheek. My audio book was done, and I was reading my book again. A nurse had brought breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating anything, even though I hadn't eaten for 36 hours, which is the longest fast I can remember ever having. I did taste the cream of wheat. It tasted like crap. The compote was good.

The family showed up around 8:45. The IV had barely dripped, and we fiddled with it to hurry it up. It sped up a little, but it still looked like forever. I told the nurse it had gone much faster the night before and asked her to speed it up, but she said a 2nd day catheter isn't supposed to drip as fast, it's dangerous.

The kids weren't being great sports about waiting, and by now the pain killers had kicked in enough that I could hydrate myself. So, when the nurse left my special lady went to tell whatever doctor was on call that I was leaving, and I removed the IV tube myself; luckily I quickly figured out how to stop the dripping (otherwise the whole bag would have dripped out in seconds). I got changed and went to find somebody to remove the catheter. When the nurse saw me she rolled her eyes and assigned an intern to remove it, apparently she wanted nothing more to do with me.

I've been home for just over 24 hours. It hurts worse than yesterday, but the surgeon told me it would be so. I'm drinking Nimisil and Ibuprofen every 6-8 hours. It's hurts bad enough, but it's not as bad as tonsillitis--when the medicine is working well I can eat, not comfortably, but I can do it. The one thing I really don't understand is why they didn't prescribe me better pain killers. I assume it's a stupid policy to stem corruption that exists because liberals give drug dealers too much leeway.

So ended my only operation in Lithuania. Let's hope it's my last.

A Rip in the Seat of Symbolism's Pants

Bear with me as I get to the point.

Actually, getting to the point may be more entertaining than the point itself. Eye of the beholder.

My day yesterday. I have to make some stops on the way to work. I go to the water company to pick up a contract. I go to the bank to pick up a new ATM card. On the way out of the bank I plop down in the car and hear a sort of crunch, and I think to myself, "I hope my wife didn't hear me crack the passenger seat!"

The next stop is the first of two work stops, first at one of the faculties, then on to my office. As I get out of the car the wife tells me to stop and turn around. What's the matter, stain on my ass? No. Remember the crack I heard? It wasn't a crack, but a ten inch rip in my pants' crotch. Luckily my sport coat was long enough to hide it for the first stop, but I couldn't spend the rest of the day like this!

Luckily we found a seamstress within a block, and I got it sewed up immediately. The price? Oh, just a symbolic few lits...no we've gotten to the point: I don't think people here understand symbolism.

If I tell you to pay me symbolically, that means you give me a button, or just shake my hand...you don't give me a few coins. That's not symbolic, it's just not a lot of money.

I've heard the word used countless times to describe a drink. When a drink is offered and declined in this country, the offerer will insist that the decliner have just one small drink, symbolically. As the decliner, in that case, I will put the glass to my lips and pretend to drink, then put it down...shocking all present! They'll insist I didn't drink, and I'll say, "Of course not: if I had it wouldn't have been symbolic, it'd have been real!"

As you may have guessed, that doesn't quite fly. But I did get a giant rip in my pants sewed up in three minutes for three lits, and that's a good deal.

Thoughts on September 1st

September 1st is a big deal in Lithuania, students bring flowers to teachers and principals and everybody dresses up for the first day of school (I'm wearing French cuffs, la-dee-dah). Here's some things I noticed:

• Mothers go bananas making sure their kids look perfect.
• Teenage boys look stupid, because either nobody told them their shirt collar belongs inside their sport coat, or they were too stupid to believe that the 70s are over.
• Way more students showed up for this than will ever show up for class.
• So many, in fact, that a good chunk had to stand outside (for some reason 400 seats were arranged for 800 people in a hall that can only seat 400 but could stand 1,000).
• The girl standing next to me had a femullet.
• An increasing number of freshman have repugnant face piercings.
• What's most interesting of all is that year after year we listen to the student anthem, Gaudeamus: I do indeed mean *listen* and not sing, because even when each student is given a piece of paper with the words on it, nobody sings; it's worse than everybody murmuring the hymns in church. Why do we do it? It's tradition they tell me. The tradition of showing that we can't learn our anthem? What do I know they say.

Resolution: I'm gonna learn the words to Gaudeamus and sing it out loud next year at the ceremony. I will bet you that everybody will look at me as if I'm the weirdo for standing out rather than the only one doing as he should.

Dos and Don'ts of a Trip to Poland

• Don't be surprised when a bum buys you two rounds of shots
• Do tell the buffet breakfast host at the hotel you're reading The Lord of the Rings when she asks--later when you can't find your group she'll ask you if you're looking for Gollum
• Don't just bring one bottle of booze
• Do make sure you're bringing appropriate t-shirts if you're grabbing inside out ones while packing, otherwise you'll have to hand wash the one wearable one
• Don't ask the Russian professor--Aleksandre Popov--if you can get shot of shitty vodka
• Do bring something inconspicuous to read during the boring parts of the workshops
• Don't believe the promises of lunch; therefore,
• Do make your own lunch sandwiches at the breakfast buffet
• Don't take off your headphones whey you get bored, if you just turn off your receiver nobody can tell your not listening anymore

Don't you hate the Bus?

I am devastated by a change in my bus schedule. I will now have to get up 11 minutes earlier each day, unless I take drastic measures: buy a timer for the coffee maker and prep the water and coffee the evening before, as well as my bag lunches; no more showering or shaving on weekdays; go to sleep already wearing tomorrow's suit and tie; sleep in the car; connect alarm clock to ignition system so that car starts automatically and warms up during the alarm clock's ten minute snooze; use kitchen balcony as a drive through to get my coffee and bag lunch; talk wife into serving me my coffee and bag lunch through the kitchen balcony.

Cribbage Excitement

Just played the most exciting game of cribbage of my life! I was over twenty points behind after my wife's double run of four, 6-6-7-8-9. But I came back with good hands including a double double run and a triple run, to finally win the game by a single point after she counted first. Can you feel the excitement?

Bus Ride Condemning the Government, and an Article of the Day

This morning on the bus an announcement was playing in between stops: "Starting July 15th, board all buses and trolleys through the front doors and show the driver your eticket or punch a single ride ticket. Exit through the other doors."

I thought, hooray! Finally the nanny government is going to stop paying people full time salaries to board buses and check peoples tickets all day. Not only does it cost tax payer money, it also wastes everybody's time, even when they don't fine anybody to make up for the cost of their salaries. It's especially mondo-retardo because competitors to the government do run city buses at half the cost to passengers (without the "controllers"): obviously the bureaucracy is where half the ticket price goes.

No such luck: controllers boarded the bus a few stops down and I asked one of them, "So your job here will be done July 15th, or what?"

"I don't know, depends on if all the changes get approved. Of course, some of us will get to stay no matter what," he said with the certainly only civil servants exude.

This reminded me of an incident while I was at college. Boston was spending millions of dollars cleaning the streets with mechanical street sweepers that weren't effective at all. Their solution? Cut the budget in half...but still spend millions of dollars on the same ineffective measures. I remember very well how furious Darius was that they weren't cutting the program entirely.

But that's how government bureaucracy works, isn't it? Just as teachers in Lithuania rarely fail students because it's so much more paperwork than a D- is, there might even be a hearing too, you might have to explain yourself, oh no! Sarunas doesn't agree that the example parallels other sectors of government run economy, but I remember, too, a story my father told me about his days in the public sector: the city he worked in had a 100% employment policy, so for instance, if at any point there were no new roads that needed paving, the city would pave some new roads anyway, ones that didn't need paving, because they couldn't possibly lay anybody off, if I remember correctly...

On other evils of bureaucratic government, here's a very depressing article my father posted yesterday: No More Eggs by the Dozen: EU Micromanages British Sales, by DanaLoesch.

Article of the Day

Playing Politics vs. Fighting the Spill, by Michael Barone, gives a good acount of whose asses actually need kicking, starting with Obama's.

Article\

Playing Politics vs. Fighting the Spill
By Michael Barone

Article of the Day

Should Biden Get a Pass, by Jonah Goldberg, gives a good background on what an ignoramus Biden is, and sums up well the self-hating foreign policy of the current administration.

Never Ask Female Students How They're Doing

I always ask students some simple questions to start class as a warm up exercies. How was your weekend, how are your classes going, stuff like that. Here's how today went:

Female Student: *chuckles randomly*
Professor: What's up?
Female Student: Nothing.
Professor: Come on, let's all laugh together!
Female Student: I just can't understand anything today.
Professor: What's the matter, up all night doing homework?
Female Student: No, just my woman's disease.
Professor: O...kay... How about you, how are you? (to another female student)
Other Female Student: I have lots of problems.
Professor: Is there something I can do, what's the problem? (thinking it's something academic, which of course would be the only appropriate thing for her to mention)
Other Female Student: It's very bad, terrible family problems.
Professor: Okay! let's just get started with class.

Article of the Day

You really can't beat Joh Stossel. Obama's Labor Department vs. Unpaid Interns is right on target.

Article of the Day

I've read a bunch of articles about Comedy Central censoring Mohammad, but Jon Stewart Flunks His Spartacus Test, by Jeffrey Lord, is certainly the most interesting so far. It put the whole situation in a new light, the right light, really, and it's convincing. Jon Stewart is a loser.

Article of the Day

A law Arizona can live with, by George F. Will, goes through an issue I've never been able to understand. Why doesn't the US Government crack down on illegal immigration? I've never heard any legitimate arguments. Because all our forefathers were immigrants? Don't make me bitch slap you! My forefathers were legal immigrants, which makes all the difference you turd-burglar.

Article of the Day

Obama: Washington Needs to Be More Like California, by Matt Welch.

Yeah, that makes sense. Let's try to bankrupt the country the way Californians bankrupted their state.

The Long Trip Home

If it's not nice out I stay in the office ten minutes past the end of work (4:30), because my bus doesn't come until 4:42. But if it's nice weather I like to leave on the dot and walk to the earlier bus stop. It gets me a little exercise and also a better shot of finding a seat on the bus. I don't have to rush, but I can't dawdle either.

Yesterday my special lady asked me if I could pick up some tomatoes. There is a vegetable stand on the way, but I agreed on the condition that there aren't many people in line, cause if I spend more than two minutes on the process I'll miss my bus. There was only one, so I got in line. While I waited I calculated how many tomatoes I could afford, because I only had 1.92 lits cash: 1.92 lits/6.99 lits for tomatoes = 274.6 grams. "275 grams of tomatoes, please." Why not round up?

That's the first time this babuska got such an exact order, but I just gave her all my coins and luckily four tomatoes came to 280 grams and she let me have them. And then just as I took the bag my bus drove by. But then it stopped at a red light! I jogged over (I can't actually run in a suit, it would look too ridiculous), and as I began to rap on the door the bus drove away.

Now I started walking back the way I came. Why? Because across the intersection from my regular bus stop is the Chinese place that sells beer cheap, so I can have a brewsky while I wait. After I decided to do this I found out from my special lady that the next bus is in just 23 minutes, so I had to hurry (I couldn't change my mind because too much had gone wrong already, plus I had to take a whiz).

A very nice Vilkmergės dark beer costs just 3.50 at the Chinese place. It was very tasty--I noticed an old man reading a book and drinking one on my way in. On my way out eight minutes later he had not made any progress though.

Standing at the bus stop waiting I reached into my overcoat pocket and literally thought to myself, "what the hell is that? Did I bring tangerines to work for lunch and forget about them?! Oh, yeah...the tomatoes." As soon as I got on the bus I realized a mistake: my second bus runs more seldom than my first bus, which isn't a problem if my special lady can pick me up on the way home from picking the kid up at kindergarten, but today she can't....hmmm. I could have had two leisurely beers at the Chinese place instead of pounding one in six minutes.

Now what? Well I'll have to get another beer to make up for that. I get off the bus at the most convenient spot to walk home, which also happens to be near a grocery store. I pop in there and don't want to get a bottle, I won't really have a chance to return it, so the deposit will end up jacking the price up quite a bit, 15% as it turns out, because instead I ended up getting a can of Donner Premium for 1.69 lits. It was okay.

On the walk from there to the next stop I took another whiz in the woods and found a trash pile next to somebody's driveway. The next stop was the Baltic Petroleum gas station where I bought a bottle Švyturys, because at 2.44 with deposit it was still cheaper than any of the cans, and it's a fine beer.

The plan was to drink it on the way to Norfa, but by then the kindergarten parents meeting was over and I was close enough to home that my special lady picked me up instead. Oh well, it was a good run.

I wonder what the people at the bank think. I charged three beers on my debit card in three different parts of the city within 90 minutes. Here's a map of my trek:

A. Office/Main Bus Stop

B. Vegetable Stand/Tomatoes

C. Chinese Place/Vilkmergės

D. Grocery Store/Donner

E. Baltic Petrolium/Švyturys

F. Home/Roast Pork Loin

Article of the Day

Schumer: Five major airlines commit to no carry-on fees

Travesty! Annoying as it will be to pay for overhead space, it will lower the cost of the flight if people are more selective about the stuff they haul around on planes. Who know, maybe I'll figure out how to travel without anything that doesn't fit in my pockets.

There was a joke I saw a few weeks or months ago that I wanted to post to, but I can't find it. I thought it was on the onion, but apparently not. It was a picture of a new design for cargo pants that you can fit your whole wardrobe into. Or did I just dream that image???

Really I don't have much more to say than this guy: "Total socialism. Who is next if the government doesn't like your pricing? Should Intel be told to lower their prices to "get in line" with AMD? What about gas prices? How about food?"

The Unbelievable George Lopez Conan O'Brien Conundrum

In a surprise twist to the Conan O'Brien saga, it turns out part of the reason George Lopez convinced him to take the TBS job was a guaranteed romantic relationship with former Durham, CT resident Homer Ford.

Status Update Too Long

Aras can't quite tell. Is it me, or is the NYTimes becoming critical of Obama? I suspected a few years ago that the newspaper had no actual political ideals, that they just slammed whoever was in office because that's so popular. Since then I've been boycotting them, so I don't know if the content has changed. But I always wondered, if that were the case, how long it would take before the newspaper started slamming Obama. It looks from the headlines I see like the newspaper is turning a corner. Anybody know if that's true?

Article of the Day

Why Poland's grief is doubled, by Alex Storozynski, makes some intersting points. The top one is this:

Ironically, because of Kaczynski's death, more people have already heard about the Katyn Massacre than would have heard about it had he simply placed a wreath at the gravesite.

This is true. I learned about the massacre while study IR at BU, but I'd forgotten the details. If you'd asked me yesterday what Katyn was, I'd have said, "No no, it's pronounced 'Cotton.'" And if you clarified that you were inquiring about the Katyn Forest, then I might have said, "Oh, um...something bad, right?"

True, the crash was a catalyst for spreading the word about a part of history. It served as a refresher course as well.

However, as a conspiracy lover, I don't agree with this:

Let us hope the flight data recordings from Kaczynski's downed plane will provide enough evidence to dissuade conspiracy theorists.

I mean, come on! Conspiracies are exciting! Plus they justify hate, distrust, and anger, and those are some powerful emotions.

Article of the Day

Here's a little part to a much bigger story that involves Lithuania and the rest of Easter Europe fearing for its life: President Obama's Nuclear Naivete, by Jack Kelly. While worth reading, the real reason I chose this article to the today's Article is because of the joke about historic actions: priceless!

Chunkie Charlie's

Over the course of the Easter weekend I watched the extended edition of each part of the Lord of the Rings. It was as pretty interesting thing to do. I thought I’d seen them before, but it turns out no, just the regular versions. Maybe I’d seen The Extended Fellowship of the Ring, but certainly not the others. I wonder if the editing had anything to do with staying true to the books. Let’s do a little research over at The Nit Picker's Guide to the Lord of the Rings.

Actually, once I got to deviation # 6 I decided to stop reading. I’m looking forward to rereading the trilogy now, for the first time in a long-ass time. I don’t want to ruin it for myself.

Some of the added scenes turned the movie into more of a romantic comedy: the drinking contest between Legolas and Gimly, and Strider dumping out the bowl of stew what’s-her-name brings him? Are those things in the book? It seems strange to add anything at all when you have to cut so much out; however, I understand that the additional women who may be interested in the movie because of Arwen’s hyperbole-of-a-role compared to the book are going to be far more profitable than any Ring nerds boycotting the movie, which they wouldn’t not never do anyway. Seems like cutting those and similar scenes kept the movies a little closer to the tone of the books, though. We’ll see soon enough.

Did George Carlin dress up as a fat old druid woman and get a job at Maxima?

The water coolers at my new workplace are in interesting places: inside the offices of people you shouldn't bother, certainly not for water. Therefore, every Monday I walk to a grocery store during my lunch break and buy a five liter jug of cheap water to drink throughout the week.

Today I had an interesting time. It began as every other: I walk in, see how many people are in line at each register: three or four. I decide to leave, turn around, take two steps, then change my mind. I need water, and I can just play backgammon on my phone while I wait in line.

I find my water, five liters for 2.25 lits. Did you know there's no symbol for lits? No $, no €, no £, no ¥: we are a nation whose currency has no face, merely a name. Anyways, I find my water, and resist all urges to buy food: I already have some food, left over fried chicken from last night, a drumstick and a thigh, and half a large cucumber. I get in line.

When I get up to the register I have this conversation:

"Just the water?"

"Yup."

"Coulda brought some from home. "

"What?"

"If you just brought some water from home you wouldn't need to buy any."

"Um...yeah. I guess. "

I immediately though, well I'd rather spend 2.25 a week on water than lug a jug from home on the bus. But then I though, what the hell was that, a delusion?! Did I dream that? Did the cashier at Maxima really purposely verbally discourage me from grocery shopping?

I don't have audio at the moment, but here's my best guess at the george carlin bit I remember. It should be the one when he's talking about how crazy it is to buy bottled water.

Article of the Day

A disgrace for the Democrats, by Michael Tomasky, is an interesting piece. The real reason I'm posting it here, though, is that the writing style reminds me of Lokys (...That's a joke, except not really...). Anyway, logical as the argument is, it proceeds from a premise I disagree with strongly: Tomasky believes congressmen should do,in their opinion, what's in their constituents best interests, even if their constituents don't want it: because, if they did want it, there would be no risk of not being reelected. I believe all your votes need to be cast on a referendum basis: every congressman, senator, and president should say to himself before every vote, "if this went to referendum in my district, what would the outcome be?"

Crap on a Coffee

As I was finishing up Shattered, by Dick Francis, on the bus this morning, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, my thermos feels pretty warm. I'm sure glad it's not leaking." Two minutes later when I finished the book I realized that my pants were wet. And not from pee. Though I would have rather pissed my pants than what did happen.

I removed my thermos on the crowded bus to see where the leak was. A tremendously helpful old man said to me, "Your thermos is leaking." I replied, "Oh really? Thanks. I didn't know that. I was taking it out to pour boiling coffee directly into my mouth." Well actually I just made that reply up, what I actually said was "Yes, thanks."

Then get this: as it seemed to me that there was no leak in the construction of the thermos, it must be that the cap is not secured, so I unscrewed the cup to check. What do you think happened? About a cupful of hot coffee poured all over my hand, sweater sleeve, and coat sleeve. Why the hell did I do that?! I suppose if I was holding a bomb in my hand, and wondering if it might blow up, I'd press the red button to find out.

I smiled at everyone who groaned at me, because what else could I do, cry?

When I got to work I had to spend a jolly morning inserting toilet paper between each of 838 pages of my Bedford Handbook, which is such a useful book that I keep it always in my brief case. Now it lies on my desk, five times its normal thickness, waiting for osmosis to run its course.

p.s. Shattered is not a very good book. It's okay, but predictable and I couldn't relate to any of the characters.

Article of the Day

Chicago's Pointless Handgun Ban, by Steve Chapman, give a clear and succinct review of the pointlessness of gun bans in America.

Aras and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Before I begin, I should note that my sensitivity to my special lady's menses has returned. If it seems like I'm overly upset, that's why (I can't tell myself because I have PMS).

8:05 a.m. I realized I forgot my watch. I said, "Crap! I should keep a spare watch in my brief case."

8:12 a.m. I missed the second of two buses I can take to work on Wednesdays without being too late. That means my special lady had to drive me to work through morning traffic. I said, "Shit!"

8:45 a.m. I found a watch in my pants pocket. I said to my students, "Wow! I thought today was going to be a rough day, but this is a good omen. Today's going to be a good day after all!"

11:45 a.m. On my way from one workplace to another I stopped I stopped at Maxima to by a liter of kefir for lunch (I'm on the no solids on certain Wednesdays diet). I was really hungry though, so I thought I'd skip the diet today if they still have the Kebab place in the shopping center. They didn't, so I bought the kefir and said to myself, "Well, maybe this is God's way of helping me with my diet."

12:30 p.m. It took me an extra fifteen minutes to walk to work because it was so icy. I got to my office and sat down, very hungry. I unscrewed the cap of my kefir to find that it had been opened already, and about a quarter of it had been drunk, before I purchased it. Because of the sidewalk-iciness and ton of work I had to do, I couldn't afford to go back even though I did have the receipt. I said to myself, "Fuckin shit you goddam mother fucker, fuck you! Nahui blet, fuck you!" Well, I actually just thought that one, or felt the equivalent.

12:45 p.m. I went to get some chinese food across the street. It's cheap for the lunch specials, so I go there sometimes (but never on Wednesdays). I ordered without looking at the menu to save time, because I know the menu, but they didn't bring the tea with the food as they usually do. Though they did bring it later, they brought it late enough that I fretted about not checking the menu, because maybe they actually changed lunch specials. Also, for some reason, they brought me double cabbage salad insead of steamed rice. I guess they ran out of rice, but I couldn't ask it that's why because the waitress is actually Chinese; so, I just said to myself, "Well, maybe this is God's way of helping me with my diet...again...He seems to be going nuts with that today."

3:15 p.m. my boss comes to get me for a meeting: it's an anual "academic soviet and commutiy meeting." I might have know about it, but I don't pay attention to bullitin boards (I'm from the 20th century in America, so...I only pay attention to emails and what's new on the website). At least we were late for it together. But why they would schedule a two hour meeting at 3 when work ends at 4:30 is beyond me. So not only did my miss my 4:42 bus, I also missed the 5:05 bus. All I could by this point say was "Ugh," and frown. I missed my barber appointment.

6:12 p.m. When I got most of the way home with the #50 bus, the online schedule for the #112 bus turned out to be bullshit; my connection would not be coming soon, as it should. By then all I was too tired to say anything besides "Please come pick me up" to my special lady over the phone. She did: she's the best! Even if her estrogen does invade me like the hordes of Mongolians once a month...

Joke of the Month

Sitting around playing the English-Lithuanian version of Lexico this weekend with Egle and Ed. It's a good game, lot's of funny words and expressiuons come up, which prompted Ed to say "Pirštas be nago, du cibuliai kabo: kas aš esu?" ("Finger, no nail, two onions hanging: what am I?")

First some funny guesses avoiding the obvious answer: I said it was an elephant's trunk, and Egle said it was banana with onions attached, I think. Then I came up with my own joke: "Keturi pirštai be nago, du cibuliai kabo: kas aš esu?"("Four fingers, no nail, two onions hanging: what am I?")

Ed guessed, Calamari Starfish! but that wasn't the answer. No more guesses? Anybody else want to guess? Scroll down for the answer.


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Keturi pirštai be nago, du cibuliai kabo: kas aš esu? Dr. Zoidberg!

Phony Backgammon

I'm tired of my stupid phony backgammon! On the way to work I read for 35 minutes on the bus, but on the way home I'm too tired, so usually I play backgammon on my phone. It's a total crock though. Whatever the most dramatic thing that could ever happen is happens 92% of the time, which is 8.5 times more than is statistically probably. Whenever I think, "oh, if i got double fours now I could cinch this thing," I get double fours. Whenever I think "I'll totally win this as long as he doesn't get a 2 and a 5," that's exactly what he gets. Over and over again, I count on it! I'm afraid it's training me to play too conservatively. What a pain in the ass.

Oh, now I get it!

I went out the the trolley stop after my Legal English class today. I thought, "I just missed my trolley, how could I forget that I only have five minutes? Oh well, I've got 17 minutes till the next one, I'll see if I can find a kibinas."

That's because I only had a banana and orange for lunch, but I was pretty hungry. I just wanted to be moving around really, also, because it's so cold. I crossed one street and then I saw a promising place, and then another street to get to it: Greek Kebabs. There was a sign in the window for kebabs in a pita for five lits, which is only double what I expected to pay for a kibinas. Good deal!

As they made me my kebab I still had eight minutes left to make the three minute walk to the bus stop. However, shockingly, I saw my trolley roll right by. I thought, "Can this possibly be an eight minute long red light?!" Alas no, either the last trolly was ten minutes late, or the next one was seven minutes early. Shit!

I walked back to the bus stop with my kebab, and saw that the next trolley was in 17 more minutes. At least I could eat in peace (it's probably illegal to eat kebabs on the trolley). Soon after I finished my kebab, which was a pretty good one, incidentally, the trolley came...ten minutes early! "Wow," I thought, "maybe somethings blocking traffic between here and the beginning of the route or something."

When I got to work I checked the trolley schedule online to see if it had changed or something. Furthermore, according to my google calendar, the times I expected the trolley match neither the schedule posted at the stop nor what I have noted in my planner. Then I realized: I was looking at 12 o'clock times instead of 1 o'clock times. Oops.

Article of the Day

The Off-Center President--Obama says he'd settle for a single term—and seems to mean it, by Peggy Noonan

This was a pretty good one, the most interesting article I read today anyway. I like her articles more often than not.

Article of the Day

Sarah Palin's Cheat Sheet Palms the Show? I guess there's no such thing as bad publicity. But here's what I don't get: in movies, people have been using invisible receivers in their ears for decades: Old School, to name just one. Doesn't that technology really exist? Why doesn't anyone use it?

Article of the Day

The Electorate vs. Obama's Agenda, by Charles Krauthammer, is pretty accurate as I understand things.

Article of the Day

How Climate-Change Fanatics Corrupted Science, by Michael Barone, gives a good answer to the question how, as in, "in what ways?" I'd like more, though, on the question of how, as in, "how is it fuckin possible?!"

Article of the Day

Try Googling It, Mr. President, by John Stossel, is a nice little piece that proves beyond a doubt what a turd Obama is.

Diet Guidlines according to Bloodtype

Blood type I

Eat lots of:
spinach
tomatoes
brussel sprouts
poultry
rabbit
grains
peanut butter soup
mustard
lemons
raw currants
spicy

Don't eat:
pork
mayonnaise
sour cream
avocados
coffee
beer

Rabbit Meat

For my birthday this year my aunt Silvija taught me how to slaughter and skin a rabbit. It's not difficult, but it's also not that easy: there's a sort of mental hump you have to get over. It's a bizarre stream of consciousness: she takes out a largish bunny and has to calm him down, saying things to him, "there there, shhh, everything's okay, just relax buddy"; then she says to me, "now grab one of those sticks and whack him here or here," pointing between his ears or right behind them. I decided between the ears made for a better angle. Should I whack it as hard as I can? "Yup," she said. I had to go through the motion of bringing the stick down on it's head several times before I actually did it. I wasn't sure I could even do it; she'd offered to just let me watch this time, if I wanted, but I thought, I can do this. And I did: I brought the stick down right between the ears with a mighty whack that crushed his skull immediately. His extremities shot out and he shook for a moment, but no sound betrayed the slaughter, which was very good: my aunt told me if you don't get the job done at once they start squealing, and then all the other rabbits in the other room start squealing, and that's a sound the neighbors can hear. We then hung him up by a back foot off a roof beam and left.

You can leave rabbits hung up in the cold for days, but if you do they'll be frozen when you skin them, which will freeze your hands, so told me Silvija. So just a couple hours later we went back to finish the job. "Cut his feet off," she said, handing me a pair of tree shears. Holy shit I thought, what if he's just knocked out? Before we'd started she'd told me about a time the rabbit was only knocked out, and when she came back for it it'd escaped. What if it's like that? Well, I sure hoped not, which is about all I could do. I cut the front feet off.

Now if you're going to skin a rabbit, you should string him up first. That way, when you get to the skinning, you can just pull the skin down: otherwise you have to hold the rabbit in one hand and pull with the other, which I can't imagine is very easy. She showed me how to slice through the skin on one back leg, then I did the other one. The important thing is not to cut into the meat: first, that makes the meat not as good; second, then it gets bloody (we got through the whole process with barely any blood on our hands). We next cut down to connect the incisions and start pulling the skin down over the belly. As you pull the skin down, minus the little bit around the butt hole, steam rises, which is kind of gross. You have to keep snipping away at the transparent paper like thing that keeps the skin attached, which is even more delicate: if you cut through the intestines you'll ruin the whole meat.

Once you've pulled off the skin you snip though the same paper like thing to get at the organs. First you remove the good ones, the liver and kidneys. The most delicate cut of all is to remove the gall blatter: it's tiny organ the shape of a large vitamin, and nicking it rather than snipping it off would ruin the liver. She did that of course, and I was very impressed. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, her son is one of the most highly regarded surgeons in Vilnius. Last, only the intestines are left; you cut through the pelvis so you can remove them still connected to the butt hole (without cutting them and risking getting shitty). A similar risk is present when removing the bladder, but luckily our rabbit had just relieved itself, apparently.

Once we got down to the end I understood why I had to cut the front feet off: the skin came off the front legs together with the feet intact easily, instead of having to pull the skin off the feet. once we got to the head it was sort of stuck, and I asked isn't it simpler to just chop the head off at this point. You don't cook the head anyway, right? And that's what we did. We actually cut it a bit farther down the neck than is necessary, but we did that because of the might whack I'd struck: there was a big bloody bruise under the skin all the way down the neck from the skull, which is apparently considered bad to eat. Although she did tell me about a blood soup that my grandfather's mother used to make when they slaughtered bigger animals. She also told me she used to save the tails for Liepa and Sirvydas to use in school plays.

I took the carcass home to butcher. I couldn't find a cook book that showed how to do it exactly, but it wasn't complicated, just like a chicken really, except with no breast. There were six good pieces: the back legs had the most meat, the front legs had less but some, the lower-back had plenty, and the ribs and upper-back had some too. Silvija said some people prefer the lower-back, which has two loin shaped pieces, and some prefer the back legs, which look sort of like chicken thighs, because the drum stick part of the leg is just bone, really.

After two days of brining I used this recipe for rabbit fricassee, and it turned out really well, the gravy especially was very tasty. My special lady and I each ate a back leg, and my five year old took a bite or two of a front leg. She was rather squeamish about eating it, because rabbits are "so polite." I made sure to butcher it out of her sight, but I didn't lie to her when she asked what's for dinner. My special lady, especially, having grown up on a farm, thought it appropriate for her to understand where food comes from.

Article of the Day\

Time to Hide, Liberals, By Jay Ambrose, leads me to one remark: "Ha, ha!"

Martinis in the Bathtub (A Facefuck do-here-instead because my status update was over 420 characters--that's why it's in the 3rd person)

This guy has a hard enough time drinking martinis as it is, but let him tell you, doing it horizontal in the bath-tub without spilling cold drips of booze onto himself is not possible. Here's one tip, though, for the majority of you out there who share this problem: the booze drips may be unvoidable, but the cold water drips condensed to the bottom of the glass making it to your chest aren't: you can nullify them by dipping the bottom of your glass into the hot bath water before taking a sip. Then only hot water drips onto your chest, as long as your cold drink goes *into* your mouth. Gerai Luck!