tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-168134412024-03-23T13:30:42.085-05:00SysmSysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.comBlogger491125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-14650955750249738702010-04-07T22:29:00.001-05:002010-04-07T22:30:48.789-05:00OKI need to flex my brain muscle. And write in more than 140-character stretches. Should I pick it up here or at Tumblr? HmmmSysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-22029190568095141572009-02-01T10:28:00.006-06:002009-02-01T21:20:27.697-06:00Satan's Little Helpers<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J7wwKzijVns&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J7wwKzijVns&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />I've tried to fake it over the years. I've tried to care. But pro sports just don't feel important to me. They don't feel real. They've always just felt like a marketing vehicle. A <a href="http://www.3m.com/us/auto_marine_aero/bondo/catalog_brand3324.html?hdrBrand=1">void filler.</a> When there are so many other things to fill your time with, sports just feel like a time suck. I'll go to a baseball game or two every year. But that's more about hanging with my friends and having a beer. I don't watch sports on tv. I don't read the Sports section in the newspaper. <br /><br />I'm in the office pool, and in <a href="http://akugyaku.blogspot.com/2009/01/bollywood-squares1.html">Nick's</a>. But that's about it.<br /><br />A few years ago, one of my coworkers was very enthusiastic about a marketing gimmick that a Japanese company was doing, leaving wallets in taxis. People who would find the wallets would be greeted with a "guerilla" marketing message. I thought it was tactless. It exploited both high and low. People who would try to profit on someone else's misfortune would not be someone I'd want as a customer. And people who would be trying to perform an altruistic act, and find out their attention was co-opted by a marketing message, would feel stupid. Just kind of gross. This tactic has been used several times by U.S. marketers lately. And I still find it repulsive.<br /><br />About the same time, I was out watching a baseball game with the Abominable Dr. Sardonic. I was pointing out the <a href="http://www.sportvision.com/main_frames/products/virtualads.htm">green screen effect</a> behind a batter. When the screen showed the pitcher ready to throw a ball, there would be an ad on the dugout wall, just to the left of the batter. But in a close-up of the batter, you could see a corner of the greenscreen, with no ad in view. The ads were inserted only in the fullscreen shot. This is a way for them to sell different ad space, every inning, without having to have a physical ad in the stadium. I called foul. My take is, when you're showing an event on tv, you should show the event, as it happens. Any chyrons (on screen overlays) should be clearly separate from the reality on the field.<br /><br />My point with each of these things is, marketing is an intrusion. Advertising is the price we pay for the subsidized delivery of creative content. And it should be something we consent to. Guerilla marketing takes advantage of our goodwill. And I choose not to consent to it. I won't watch professional sports on tv anymore. I just can't stand the advertising overload. I can't even listen to them on the radio. The marketing messages are built in to the play-by-play relentlessly. <br /><br />I was in a supermarket checkout lane with my Dad. I was probably 10 or 11. It was the weekend of the Super Bowl. Another man in line turned to my Dad and asked him who he was rooting for. My dad didn't really seem to register what the man was talking about for a few seconds, then said, "I don't really follow the game." It wasn't really clear if my Dad knew what game he was referring to. The other man looked at my Dad with an expression that I could best label an emasculating incredulity. <br /><br />I wasn't brought up to find sports important. Or religion. I really ought to be more appreciative to my parents.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gDW_Hj2K0wo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gDW_Hj2K0wo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-21386434713210968572008-12-30T19:06:00.004-06:002008-12-30T19:12:49.043-06:00A Christmas Miracle, Part Two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8eTOg8JG92ZYHr28iUWf80DbpHxhEC-G-DJPLhqPlh0XpNj6Zk5h9DO4lk1BpIcUjoN4iKcD8O2xQwswHCfiFvjPptismiIqNQx-3eAWz8ezFmKOQaYDT43wxgA-i9xagNt-5Q/s1600-h/IMG_0567.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8eTOg8JG92ZYHr28iUWf80DbpHxhEC-G-DJPLhqPlh0XpNj6Zk5h9DO4lk1BpIcUjoN4iKcD8O2xQwswHCfiFvjPptismiIqNQx-3eAWz8ezFmKOQaYDT43wxgA-i9xagNt-5Q/s400/IMG_0567.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285754892207331618" /></a><br /><br />Sweet baby Nick has been found! Call off the search. He has some strange mold-like growths on the back of his legs, but much less so than the last time he was seen. Thanks to the ubergirls and the sysmidgets for their detecting skills.<br /><br />And now, <a href="http://idisk.mac.com/sgleason-Public/Sysm2k8/Fade.mp3">festive dancing</a> with the Secret Dakota Ring.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-33310125817338838132008-12-26T09:03:00.001-06:002008-12-26T09:04:52.383-06:00A Christmas MiracleI've finally, finally been touched by the true spirit of Christmas.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9jf-GVIxy9c&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9jf-GVIxy9c&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-13469395832679464152008-12-05T23:07:00.005-06:002008-12-06T13:55:58.801-06:00Behold the Majesty of Thurl Ravenscroft<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUxr3p7bRv4rkl7AFgslvgkVPX_YGV7HiuSvDJwWmuIv679O8FC_LIZzgPwWNmt9UYWViXWOcXYBrgvRVBdAOuxnK6Z5Lr2ekpkPg0TRonayLfSlNXZ1keuM2BB5UXqytMu0QeQ/s1600-h/TradesThurlRavenscroft.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 338px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUxr3p7bRv4rkl7AFgslvgkVPX_YGV7HiuSvDJwWmuIv679O8FC_LIZzgPwWNmt9UYWViXWOcXYBrgvRVBdAOuxnK6Z5Lr2ekpkPg0TRonayLfSlNXZ1keuM2BB5UXqytMu0QeQ/s400/TradesThurlRavenscroft.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276542628257619570" /></a><br /><a href="http://ubermilf.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-have-to-cool-it-on-evil-i-think.html">Some people</a> have been forgetting to accentuate the positive. <br /><br />So. Without further ado.<br /><br /><a href="http://idisk.mac.com/sgleason-Public/The_Crackerjacks_-_Kiss_Crazy_Baby-1.mp3">Kiss, Crazy Baby.</a><br /><br /><br />h/t <a href="http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2008/12/thurl-ravenscro.html">WFMU's Beware of the Blog.</a>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-77524170641686421692008-10-31T21:01:00.005-05:002008-11-03T13:27:41.469-06:00Deep in the heart of the South...<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zjqojIjdVuo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zjqojIjdVuo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />...suburbs of Chicago. Out to dinner tonight with my wife's family. When the Obama bashing kept going for a half hour, I held my tongue. Finally, I said, "I'm not going to vote for Obama on Tuesday." I got confused looks. "Because I already did." Early voting. When my meal was served, one of them actually said to the server, "No, wait, he ordered Chitlins."<br /><br />I'm not kidding. The stupid fucker actually said that. <br /><br />I said, "You can be ignorant, if you'd like. I'm not going to attempt to reason with someone who gets all of their information from chain emails, and never bothers to ask whether there's any truth to them at all. But I'm not going to keep my kids around that kind of racist shit."<br /><br />The fact that this election is even close is because of people like this.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-2161755209063878252008-09-29T09:38:00.004-05:002008-09-29T14:24:03.899-05:00I'm just talkin' 'bout Shaft (continued)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPf4qfdxT1jjBRCZkPaLDvSyJ_Ce3n1zLRz4UDPHRXo-qPAiN0J-4CFKcsqYI4rRl-nRpzEdQ-n4uFfZtLUn_6mLrz7vHMEJtNKGVOs6FUKxN-QAXjx52QUSiuEr2QmTkXTIDpmw/s1600-h/IMG_0390.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPf4qfdxT1jjBRCZkPaLDvSyJ_Ce3n1zLRz4UDPHRXo-qPAiN0J-4CFKcsqYI4rRl-nRpzEdQ-n4uFfZtLUn_6mLrz7vHMEJtNKGVOs6FUKxN-QAXjx52QUSiuEr2QmTkXTIDpmw/s400/IMG_0390.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251453585819770338" /></a><br />At the local pumpkin patch over the weekend. This monstrosity would scoop up pumpkins, chomp them between its mighty mechanical jaws, and let the husks fall to the ground.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-24322769999438675132008-09-25T13:42:00.003-05:002008-09-26T17:20:03.588-05:00Shower the children<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A5eu5EJfyb8&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A5eu5EJfyb8&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />This disturbs me on so many levels.<br /><br />Ok. One.<br /><br />I'm feeling crappy. <a href="http://www.crappycat.com/">Join me.</a> You'll be glad you did.<br /><br />Then, perchance, we can play <a href="http://www.BobStaake.com/lingo">a game.</a><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PfK-UzQ48JE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PfK-UzQ48JE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-1178599621464777742008-08-17T19:35:00.007-05:002008-08-17T20:06:17.973-05:00E'nuff Z'nuff<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCvChHUGKP7lU-Bz6ljSEqGsczIJ13qa4aaQpH6G5qziAXGVU2K7OFMHryLCENSle2xedeIeLutfAHHzVHOm0Zx7QZ3d6OxtMUOsB9pxt_QakxL3O22XVCfQlcT4EnGX8CGJcAA/s1600-h/tierneygearon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCvChHUGKP7lU-Bz6ljSEqGsczIJ13qa4aaQpH6G5qziAXGVU2K7OFMHryLCENSle2xedeIeLutfAHHzVHOm0Zx7QZ3d6OxtMUOsB9pxt_QakxL3O22XVCfQlcT4EnGX8CGJcAA/s400/tierneygearon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175179869983557810" /></a><br /><br />I was driving next to my U.S. Representative, Peter Roskam, yesterday. His car had a bumper sticker reading "Enough is Enough. Vote Republican." That was rich. Reading through his press releases, he keeps repeating the catch phrase "Washington is broken." Yep. It sure is. And he helps keep it that way. And he doesn't help our community all that much either. He backs <a href="http://roskam.house.gov/News/DocumentSingle.aspx?DocumentID=99176">anti-immigration policies,</a> and was a very vocal opponent of <a href="http://rubberstamproskam.com/2007/10/21/no-friend-of-the-working-man/">raising the minimum wage.</a> He plays into the casual, code-worded racism and classism that we're known for around here. The way this one works out is, don't pay lower-income people a living wage. A living wage would only encourage them to live in our communities. And let's talk tough about immigration, but know that all of the undocumented workers will be willing to be paid sub-minimum wage rates (good for small businesses!) but still not enough to be able to afford to settle in to our towns.<br /><br />Bastante es bastante.<br /><br />So, I may talk a big game about loving my fellow man (on the down low). But can I live that way? Not so much. I took the Sysmidgets to the Bristol Renaissance Fair today. I wish many things for my children. I picture their lives, and hope that they are happy, safe and loved. Living fulfilled lives and having strong relationships. But I swear, if they take to dressing up in Madrigal garb (complete with running shoes and sunglasses) perform maypole dances and talk in affected pseudo accents learned from time-travel episodes of ST:TNG, I will have no choice but to disown them. But at least the kids there were actually allowing themselves to be exposed to the sun, instead of working on their World of Warcraft guilds. <br /><br />If they're going to dress up, they should at least speak to today's troubled times.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YveSHqhOkdo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YveSHqhOkdo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-80380416620854781352008-08-10T22:17:00.002-05:002008-08-10T22:26:30.102-05:00Here's the thing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2V0msrq8PCxgt7AcItn3KvKM60RqfKBq6Bly6mWZc5wzxGE5Qkzt86PO33nV59E4Uxj5IsKLO180wue8z77g896J6uudQGuZG-cWZcKf-ghqpZdcasSXTIUAN8bHPQp-uvLBpg/s1600-h/3979be3d57ce4d9d7ae59d8242e6f5ac.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2V0msrq8PCxgt7AcItn3KvKM60RqfKBq6Bly6mWZc5wzxGE5Qkzt86PO33nV59E4Uxj5IsKLO180wue8z77g896J6uudQGuZG-cWZcKf-ghqpZdcasSXTIUAN8bHPQp-uvLBpg/s400/3979be3d57ce4d9d7ae59d8242e6f5ac.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233094506583279042" /></a><br />The basement was <span style="font-style:italic;">really, really</span> dirty.<br /><br />Much better now.<br /><br />I will write something, once a week. Starting with this months old anecdote.<br /><br />A cold day. I'm sitting in a barcalounger kinda thing. One of the sysmidgets walks by with a blanket draped around him. I scoop him up to keep me warm. Within a few minutes, I have all four boys in my lap. Squirming, elbowing each other, and enjoying each other's company. The dog sees this action, and decides he wants in, so he jumps up. Scrambling to get his footing, he's clawing with his paws, and manages to get a mighty good pull through my t-shirt, snagging a nipple. I let out a howl. The dog, already excited and scared, reacts by starting to hump me. The boys scream, laughing and scattering, as the dog is pulling and humping even harder. I lift him off of me, and get him down to the floor. He gives me a shamed look like I just caught him rubbing one out. Which, of course, I had.<br /><br /><div>Henceforth, I will don a tunic prior to any rough housing.<br /><br /></div>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-51852937984113887862008-03-21T09:20:00.001-05:002008-03-21T09:22:58.166-05:00Sorry, Nick.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitd8n8CvBh_ayso7YGsC8yZZmKQKF0nVMMZ-DVcx-vL0qasK6idG_8HUwUWIifj4QaDDCCQUkaA9m02WrdNtxxUHMAiBCb8wWK4jprkFQ5pHxAbQUpSYnBQMU3efUUolhTyRvo_w/s1600-h/maddy-genets-orchestre.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitd8n8CvBh_ayso7YGsC8yZZmKQKF0nVMMZ-DVcx-vL0qasK6idG_8HUwUWIifj4QaDDCCQUkaA9m02WrdNtxxUHMAiBCb8wWK4jprkFQ5pHxAbQUpSYnBQMU3efUUolhTyRvo_w/s400/maddy-genets-orchestre.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180199858261924658" /></a>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-12688753817373029432008-02-03T11:29:00.000-06:002008-02-05T21:25:01.315-06:00Soft rock the voteGlenn Greenwald has an interesting <a href="http://www.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/2008/01/30/bipartisanship/index.html">essay</a> in Salon about what the people in Washington call being "non-partisan". The short version -- Republicans vote as a block, 99% of the time. Any flexibility comes from the Democrats. And, invariably, they cave to the pressure to not be "obstructionist".<br /><br />A few years ago, when I was working at my last job, we were in the process of merging two branches of the company into one. There were a series of meetings to discuss the transitions. I went to a few, then bailed. My boss got angry with me, and challenged me with, "don't you want to help determine the direction of the company?"<br /><br />"I'd love to," I said. "But I really don't think that I'm going to have any effect. I've been in mediation before. And I know what role they have and I know what role we have. They're specialists. Hard-wired to do things their way. We're generalists. We try to make people happy any way we can. That means we're going to do whatever they want. We have no say. They won't be flexible. They won't be accommodating. They'll be hard asses and we'll keep giving in and giving in. You seem to think that there'll be this new thing out of the merger, that combines the best of both of our operations. It won't happen. It won't. We're gone. We're them. Anything they don't like about us -- anyone they don't like -- is gone."<br /><br />The Republicans have that shit down cold. Stay inflexible. Give lip-service to the idea of "consensus" and "reaching across the aisle". Bullfuck. <br /><br />Still. I don't give up hope. And I try not to bee too jaded. Every couple years I'll go out and vote. And there are a few people here who I'm pretty proud to vote for. I'll be working for <a href="http://www.bearporn.com/bearporn/samples/leather.jpg">one of them</a> on Tuesday. It should be fun. I'll be back to the snarky MoFo on Wednesday.<br /><br />I was working on a call-in voter line today. Mostly helping people find their polling places. But there were way too many people who just rolled out of bed, and seemed to think, "Hey, I've never voted before. I should be able to do this by phone, using one of my many assumed identities. Or someone will pick me up and bring me there. Hey, my boss won't let me take off of work to vote, and I have plans tonight. Can I press charges? I registered to vote when I lived in California, and now I live in Georgia. But I'm still in the United States, so I don't have to register again, right?" Jeebus.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-89349796660617238192008-02-01T15:01:00.000-06:002008-02-01T16:25:30.371-06:00Football pool, redux, repost<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPriywMQRyT_FNgREOaCfHmypzK4cCq67qdNisSk4wn_vJolQI0aY2XFH3TzLQEJrhOrhfADrp5PxjjkBxUvuhNZjVLrbscma9ssa0_C98XJMF2vrsXTgveI5oSQDC0CzEEQXtg/s1600-h/Football-Pool-2k8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPriywMQRyT_FNgREOaCfHmypzK4cCq67qdNisSk4wn_vJolQI0aY2XFH3TzLQEJrhOrhfADrp5PxjjkBxUvuhNZjVLrbscma9ssa0_C98XJMF2vrsXTgveI5oSQDC0CzEEQXtg/s400/Football-Pool-2k8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162141492226940354" /></a><br /><br />Here are the rules:<br /><br /><ol><li>Pick up to five squares. In the comments, using the letter/number combination to indicate the square. Yes. Just like <a href="http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/00/4/potemkin.html">"Battleship".</a></li><li>Offer up your own prize contribution. Here's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Disguise-THOR-HAMMER/dp/B000UVP2EI">mine.</a></li><li>Once the grid is full, I'll randomly assign actual numbers, using the <a href="http://www.partysoftware.com/How_To_Setup_Football_Squares_pool.php">deck of cards method.</a></li><li>Should you win a quarter, you can pick one of the prizes offered by any other participant. <a href="http://www.foxreno.com/health/10864869/detail.html">First come,</a> first served. </li></ol><br /><a href="http://youareinmysysm.blogspot.com/"><span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sysm</span></a> wishes you the best of luck.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com108tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-16545639756530341422008-01-27T10:49:00.000-06:002008-01-31T11:24:37.829-06:00Minor outrage<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dU0dMnWePFZN8bG1ZoxwpozdZFhkQ0wR5o-y3q6uiuPnJ5vXlcQa-m0_TFfkU3BPpS1mvleiCqYm67atUlNJC861cHjW4fHnn7W5C_vNsNvlPScLNSqcUnSXEXDJkPPQBHiQiw/s1600-h/01-26-08_1604.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dU0dMnWePFZN8bG1ZoxwpozdZFhkQ0wR5o-y3q6uiuPnJ5vXlcQa-m0_TFfkU3BPpS1mvleiCqYm67atUlNJC861cHjW4fHnn7W5C_vNsNvlPScLNSqcUnSXEXDJkPPQBHiQiw/s400/01-26-08_1604.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160200325922938178" /></a><br />Seen on the vending machine at Flipper's school yesterday.<br /><br />He's in sixth grade. Size matters? Really? Sure, it'll go over their heads (hopefully), but does the double entendre need to be there in the first place?<br /><br />BTW, Im on a minor tear about public signage. I recently made Clear Channel fix a stupid typo in some signs they have up all over downtown. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAunUEU79NdAxEFBNI8w3EObkI5Ny4enV7h37JS0JYXA9nqTz-Uh5q0-O-3k2SqksAl2OAC98kcdBef66ZhafCNRhBnH_Zh5czwp5crVLiwu36y20cqCxscpZYnAjvyFLEYI05Iw/s1600-h/01-03-08_1822.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAunUEU79NdAxEFBNI8w3EObkI5Ny4enV7h37JS0JYXA9nqTz-Uh5q0-O-3k2SqksAl2OAC98kcdBef66ZhafCNRhBnH_Zh5czwp5crVLiwu36y20cqCxscpZYnAjvyFLEYI05Iw/s400/01-03-08_1822.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160201567168486786" /></a><br /><br />See it? How about a little bigger? Size matters, after all:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt96Pu6trVwr03OLQO5f6RUkg3PWr-Fl7GbFge0EwkSGiByh1be4dqgLd0Kig1o6qoAmmPusw4dfRuYdvaEosirZcqJqpY4ga05LcNoE-sMBZBxzX5QQUl1SSVQekjLhz5tkdGg/s1600-h/01-03-08_1823.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt96Pu6trVwr03OLQO5f6RUkg3PWr-Fl7GbFge0EwkSGiByh1be4dqgLd0Kig1o6qoAmmPusw4dfRuYdvaEosirZcqJqpY4ga05LcNoE-sMBZBxzX5QQUl1SSVQekjLhz5tkdGg/s400/01-03-08_1823.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160201356715089266" /></a><br /><br />Squeeky? Nope. <a href="http://crime.about.com/od/murder/p/squeaky.htm">Squeaky</a>. After three complaints in a month, they finally changed them:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf11_u_ZBNX9rkx_6TXCXDSp12QpW17bqvSIucUxoJqXwMUfm_C34Ewap0nBCYYIUzBdTi-KdV0_L9Ks_kABoA5-_rOGbtme4cec7niKZUMLaNp-p4HGvZ5nV-HWzcku93_ORujA/s1600-h/01-14-08_1824.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf11_u_ZBNX9rkx_6TXCXDSp12QpW17bqvSIucUxoJqXwMUfm_C34Ewap0nBCYYIUzBdTi-KdV0_L9Ks_kABoA5-_rOGbtme4cec7niKZUMLaNp-p4HGvZ5nV-HWzcku93_ORujA/s400/01-14-08_1824.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160201833456459154" /></a><br /><br />Now I can sleep at night. Whew.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-7323432479200611702008-01-06T10:26:00.000-06:002008-01-06T10:30:56.547-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEtsMi27S91knBfMffmQRQFWtCjSGukZuBbZdCxXXputNLZD5EpaE6mj8TOeWE2-08tc8p5Uu4XzRKwoJO1AaWaY0Po04RgrJdFo30l8VXpFCIE15cU33P6p2iwLEFNd6-H6IkQ/s1600-h/_medium_DSCN7823.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEtsMi27S91knBfMffmQRQFWtCjSGukZuBbZdCxXXputNLZD5EpaE6mj8TOeWE2-08tc8p5Uu4XzRKwoJO1AaWaY0Po04RgrJdFo30l8VXpFCIE15cU33P6p2iwLEFNd6-H6IkQ/s400/_medium_DSCN7823.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152401396315500530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/bigphotos/21329204.html">Estonia</a> calls to me.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-28656950509043884972007-12-09T13:09:00.000-06:002007-12-09T13:24:08.387-06:00Figs in a Blanket<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xusF1UHtLiwvNtRER2G6b8PeazX8eIySB0jNXTpFvqbTcVbU6HuU0E6ffjNVUe02wSIlZ_XWVOAhpL1tFAssIX0fRi2TpZNDxNTMQ8Nv5J7_a_33yjZqS61i8byoOe0r-MPHiw/s1600-h/parsnip1af.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xusF1UHtLiwvNtRER2G6b8PeazX8eIySB0jNXTpFvqbTcVbU6HuU0E6ffjNVUe02wSIlZ_XWVOAhpL1tFAssIX0fRi2TpZNDxNTMQ8Nv5J7_a_33yjZqS61i8byoOe0r-MPHiw/s400/parsnip1af.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142054308573994306" border="0" /></a><br />For the annual Hillbilly Tapas party at Reverend Jack's, I went bacon-free for the first time. But once you go pig, it's hard to renege. My recipe called for:<br /><blockquote>2 cups (about 3 dozen) dried figs<br />3 clemintine oranges, juiced and zested<br />2 teaspoons vanilla<br />2 tablespoons brown sugar<br />1 cup of water<br />1 cup firm to hard bleu cheese or gorgonzola<br />3 dozen roasted almonds<br />3 dozen biscuit rolls<br />3 dozen thin slices of prosciutto<br /></blockquote><br />Though I searched high and low – ok, just low – for fresh figs, all I could find were dried ones. No problem. In the same way I reanimate the corpses of my forebears, I knew I could return the dried figs to a semblance of their original, "little brown sac of goodness" vigor. I combined figs, the orange juice, zest, vanilla, brown sugar and water in a large pot on medium heat. After about ten minutes, they'd plumped right up.<br /><br />Cutting the stems off of the figs, I also cut a slit lengthwise, about 2/3 of the length. Pushed a little nut into the slit. Warm and sticky. They slid in nicely. Put a little dollop of bleu over the opening, then wrapped the fig loosely in a thinly sliced prosciutto. The prosciutto, with the fig rolled inside, was about 2-1/2 inches wide. I broiled the prosciutto-wrapped figs, about 2 inches away from the flame, about 2 minutes a side, until the meat crisped just a bit.<br /><br />Too lazy to make my own biscuit dough, I grabbed some cans of Pillsbury Buttermilk biscuits. Tugged on them a bit to make them more oval than round, and wrapped them around the crisp, firm, meat. Rolled the dough between my thumb and index finger to seal it together. A little bit of the meat hung out from either side, as intended.<br /><br />Another 12 minutes in a 400 degree oven, and they were nice and golden brown. Flaky, too. But the credit must go to the dough boy for that.<br /><br />Dilf didn't like them. He has a problem with nuts in his mouth. Nick had no such complaint. Hmm. By the way, Nick rocks a mean <a href="http://www.hohnerusa.com/index.php?344">Melodica.</a> And Mister Importantness' <a href="http://ubermilf.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-i-learned-at-hillbilly-tapas.html">home brewed shoe polish</a> and hooch has the delightful effect of making Ubie forget the french lyrics to <a href="http://www.whitehouse.gov/president/">"Psycho Killer."</a> That's her story, anyway.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-57072455286293696932007-12-04T19:42:00.000-06:002007-12-04T19:43:52.535-06:00Why not whip up some fun right in your own mouth!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wFEAQl0uPmgAwK7X3HhilN2JoOu3eIEEXWP_IltqhQKUlt4cePVNVNfdaOZyrvlb8n38yXlkLyDRSN-wq127LPj25eiBd14bWoYqBP_zu3SFSui6e9fyeZ0idkGmvAd5rpFQKg/s1600-h/12-04-07_1937.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wFEAQl0uPmgAwK7X3HhilN2JoOu3eIEEXWP_IltqhQKUlt4cePVNVNfdaOZyrvlb8n38yXlkLyDRSN-wq127LPj25eiBd14bWoYqBP_zu3SFSui6e9fyeZ0idkGmvAd5rpFQKg/s400/12-04-07_1937.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140298567852299730" /></a><br />This note came home from school today. The PTA has issues. Obviously.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-11673743305041946092007-12-03T17:58:00.000-06:002007-12-04T12:30:30.503-06:00Fake it to make it, part 5: Yule Loggins<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RBJsqFB5fI0&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RBJsqFB5fI0&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />What's worse than Kenny Loggins? More people singing the songs of Kenny Loggins.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RLKu_dvCp1Y&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RLKu_dvCp1Y&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-70317378836314190422007-12-01T08:53:00.000-06:002007-12-01T09:09:09.706-06:00Fake it to make it, part 4: go ahead and jump<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6431/1067/1600/yureyyeityiertyieryeri1.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6431/1067/1600/yureyyeityiertyieryeri1.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><blockquote>"This leap of faith is the greatest leap I've ever taken." - Evel Knievel</blockquote><br />At least Evel <a href="http://www.hourofpower.org/booklets/booklets_detail.php?contentid=2404">found</a> salvation.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-35474591237729197712007-11-29T17:50:00.000-06:002007-11-29T17:55:00.677-06:00Fake it to make it, part 3: Jukebox Jewry<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AOxVXQlZXqI&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AOxVXQlZXqI&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-21428189051309453772007-11-29T09:38:00.000-06:002007-11-29T09:39:20.406-06:00No child left behindUnless they're <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> assholes.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.criticsrant.com/bb/reading_level.aspx"><img style="border: none;" src="http://www.criticsrant.com/bb/readinglevel/img/elementary_school.jpg" alt="cash advance" /></a><p><small><a href="http://www.cashadvance1500.com">Cash Advance </a>Loans</small></p>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-4215565588390370302007-11-27T20:58:00.000-06:002007-11-27T21:00:26.283-06:00Fake it to make it, part 2: Nobody puts Jesus in a corner.<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2ZyJCV_dyug&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2ZyJCV_dyug&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /> <br />H/T for both this and the previous post <a href="http://www.yesbutnobutyes.com/">YesButNoButYes.</a>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-69058259485667748762007-11-27T20:35:00.000-06:002007-11-27T20:37:32.009-06:00Fake it to make it, part one: "Christmas is awesome"<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wH2umxtA_sc&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wH2umxtA_sc&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-65364910155505310882007-11-26T19:04:00.000-06:002007-11-26T19:21:09.916-06:00On a steel horse I ride.The SysmTwins needed haircuts. They were looking a little too Jim Carrey from "Dumb and Dumber". The three of us, and their older brother, Flipper, were sitting on benches at the cheapie chain hair cut joint, waiting for their turn. The boys have no vanity. None. Asked how they wanted their hair cut, they looked at me with an expression of "I can't even see my hair, what do I care what it looks like?"<br /><br />The radio in the place was tuned to one of those "hot mix" type stations, playing "the (shittiest) music from the 80's, 90's and today!"<br /><br />The guy next to me was moving his whole body, keeping time to the music. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and waited for the next song to come on. Anything. Anything.<br /><br />When the song ended, Flipper turned to me and asked, "Who sang that song? I liked it."<br /><br />(cue the sound of my heart breaking).<br /><br /><a href="http://spyinthehaus.livejournal.com.nyud.net:8090/65936.html">"Bon Jovi"</a> I replied, in the weakest voice possible.<br /><br />"Can you download that song for me so I can listen to it at home?"<br /><br />Tears were welling up in my eyes.<br /><br />"Come on. We've got to go."<br /><br />I cut the twins hair at home. I will not have my children exposed to Bon Jovi. A man's got standards. And the twins have shitty haircuts.Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16813441.post-76905563723381582082007-11-20T17:52:00.000-06:002007-11-20T17:53:35.763-06:00Sing along with SysmI'll take the tenor part.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.specialmusic.org/audio/Turkey_Time.mp3">Join me.</a>Sysmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12544939882699696839noreply@blogger.com8