perfidy

What great leader do you most resemble? Take the great leader test and find out. I was pleased but not surprised that I am sympatico with Abraham Lincoln:

Our own Minister Johno has achieved undying fame as the winner of an honorable mention in the most recent OTB Caption contest, for this smooth bit of wit:

No hands?!? What kind of cockamamie rule…?

While driving to a lunch meeting today, I heard a commercial that could have, under different circumstances, caused me to drive off into a ditch.

Luckily, in Houston, there aren't a lot of ditches next to major 6 lane divided urban surface roads, so I was safe.

I can't (yet) find an MP3 of the ad, and I don't know if it's playing in any markets outside of Texas, but I do know, from my search for it, that a lot of other people are searching for that MP3, too. As a side note, I also find that there's apparently a subculture of (I'm sure fine and upstanding) folks who trade the audio files for Bud Light commercials, but never mind that.

Located at the Houstonist, the words, at least, for the latest installment in Bud Light's "Real Men of Genius" series:

Bud Light Presents Real Men of Genius.

Real Men of Genius

Today we salute you Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy.

Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy!

Men from lesser states might know their state's capital, but you? You know you're state's bird, tree and even reptile.

Love that horny toad.

You display your pride with your Lone Star tattoo, "Native Texan" bumper sticker, and contempt for any state that doesn't start with "Tex" and end with "as."

That spells Texas.

Sure, there are 49 other states in the Union, but they are smaller, wussier, and the people talk funny.

Yankee wussies.

So crack open a nice cold Bud Light, oh lover of the Lone Star state. Because all that flag waving must have made you thirsty.

Yeah...yeah, I get this alot. You don't even know how many total strangers stop me on the street and comment on how I remind them of a Mazda. I'm not sure where it got that I'm "sporty", as I loathe most sports. Of the non-blood variety, anyway.

I'm a Mazda RX-8!

You're sporty, yet practical, and you have a style of your own. You like to have fun, and you like to bring friends along for the ride, but when it comes time for everyday chores, you're willing to do your part.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Amazon's selling groceries now. Unlike the doomed dot.com grocery services, this one seems a little more sensible. Amazon already has an infrastructure - warehouses and fedex and whatnot, and they've decided to stick with non-perishable items in bulk quantities. So really, it's more like CostCo online, very sensible. From a quick glance, prices seem to be in line with CostCo's, too. I could see this service being very useful for the items you use regularly - for me, that would be diapers, Club crackers (my son's favorite food), and pet stuff like food and cat litter. Sadly, they don't carry dog food or kitty litter. But, give it time and this might actually be useful. With free shipping, it just might work.

[wik] Kudos to whomever recognizes the title quote.

It is my birthday after all. Coincidently, it also happens to be the birthday of this hack poet:

William Butler Yeats was born on this day in 1865, and managed to survive another 74 years scribbling forgettable poetry and dabbling in oriental mysticism and fascism. Strangely enough, I have managed to go 37 years without ever realizing that I shared my birthday with a famous poet. Thanks to Trish, who sent me a nice Birthday card from the Victoria and Albert Museum, for clueing me in.

I am now arguably in my late thirties. I am not sure how to feel about that. The last decade has not been without some success, but the idea that I'm creeping ever closer to 40 is, well, creepy. Nevertheless, it's a happy birthday, and a beautiful day. And dad got me the complete Far Side...

So yesterday I was all furious and angry, but not at her -- just at certain very bad people who shall remain nameless for the time being...but then today was a good day. Today I drove 600 miles, met my Mom to pick up a sparkle that's been in the family 120 years, watched the sun set and the moon rise at the same time, left the sunroof open 'cause Chemical Brothers sounded so cool, got 31.6 mpg driving around traffic at 75, and reflected on the 38 years I've screwed up; felt nothing but hope and good will towards the next 38, god willing.

It was a good day.

Just because this hasn't, yet, been roundhouse kicked to death:

If Chuck Norris ever actually submitted a fact on this site it would be the last thing you ever read, because it would literally come through the screen and snap your neck.

In the comments to this post, we find this delightful gem, which has already made a deep and lasting, not to say scarring, impact on my internal monologue:

I'm so sick of hearing about G--gle that I silently refer to it in triplicate using Jan Brady's irritable "Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!" voice.

Thanks to Dogette for the amusing, yet painful, new mental furniture.

The hiatus will take a brief hiatus, before resuming its hiatusing. The wedding was cool. The burn was brief, lacking in sleep, and left me with a hangover. It got real hot. Then, today, I started work at my new yob, and they decided to throw me into the deep end of the pool. I can't speak for the rest of the Ministry, but look for semi-regular posting to resume tomorrow. Since linking him seems the only way to stop him from complaining even for a little bit, go read some of Murdoc's fine posts.

[wik] Actually, really read the first and last of those. The pics of the sunken Oriskany are a trip, and I approve of if not often emulate the practice of linking to brickmuppet's fine blog. Looks like Murdoc is trying to off-shore the battleship debate that has raged on his site for months.

I will shortly be making the grueling overland trek from our nation's capital to our first nation's capital, Philadelphia. One of my dearest and oldest friends (well, he's not any older than I am, but we've known each other for 33 of our 36 years) is finally getting married. So I'll be gone through Saturday for that, and then I'll be dropping in on the local mini-burning man for the last day of those festivities.

Everyone have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend, and stop and take a moment to remember why we have a Memorial Day weekend. I feel confident that many of our fine milbloggers will be offering up some reflections as the weekend progresses. So make the time if you can to check out Blackfive, Murdoc and all the rest.

Stolen from Whatever, a magical webthingy for making your very own, personal De-Motivators.

Here, I victimize my pets:

[wik] The Ministry of Future Perfidy in the far, far, unimaginable year of 2025 is shocked, shocked, to find that the link for the meme generator still works. Was meme even a word in the before-times of 2006?

And to steal Cat's joke, its always a pleasure looking at ArmyWife's can.

Banishing the overwhelming pink to the outer darkness can only be a good thing.

Over at Zoe Brain, I find a country quiz. A surprisingly accurate one, as it turns out:

You're the United States of America!

You were probably a big bully in school, and odds are that you're still a big bully. You make promises that you break, you manipulate everyone around you, and you're awfully materialistic. On the other hand, you're pretty inventive and have a really good sense of justice. You just never get around to applying the idea of justice to yourself. Incredible potential remains yours to take advantage of.

Seeing how good that one was, I just had to see if the state quiz was up to snuff. And, to my undying amazement, it got that right, too:

You're Ohio!

Why-o, why-o, why-o are you so bland? Despite being in a fairly interesting location with a fair amount of potential, most people are struck by how little about you is noteworthy. Of course you know there's nothing wrong with being average, and that's where most folks are anyway! You do have a flair for rock-n-roll, though you mostly prefer the old stuff. You have the unique trait of, at times, experiencing air as a brown solid. One of your names undoubtedly starts with the letter C.

Despite the accuracy of the quiz result, I am less than pleased with the state description offered here.

Taking the other quizzes, the University quiz resulted in a college I was planning to attend before I became drunk for five years; the animal quiz pegged me as human; and if I were a book, apparently I would be 1984. Not bad for a few random interweb quizzes.

[wik] The authors of the state quiz should be aware, however, that the Quaker Oats company was founded in Ohio, and has little to do with Pennsylvania.

Ever get the tight feeling in your chest when you see a woman? A little twist of fear, even though you are a decent husband with no mistresses, drug habits or intent to rape anyone? Well, this is the reason.

Ever get the tight feeling in your chest when you see a police officer? A little twist of fear, even though you are a law-abiding citizen with no drugs, unregistered weapons or ill intent? Well, this is the reason.

Apropos of nothing in particular, I thought I'd let everyone know that there is a turkey hen (or whatever lady turkeys are called) living in my area. She used to have some gal-pals; lately I've only seen a single one. Like yesterday, when she was slowly walking past my truck in the cold morning drizzle, slurping up worms or ticks or CHUDS or whateverfuck bubbles to the surface in heavy rain.

Didn't pay me any mind, which was good, because the only weapon close at hand to defend against a turkoconic onslaught was my bright yellow metal thermos and the hot Earl Grey therein.

Last evening I was inside but saw motion off the back deck, out of the corner of my eye. It was the weird light of slacking rain and dusk; for a second I thought it was the turkey. But nope-it was venison steaks and a buckskin jacket waiting to happen; a young buck in the yard. I had heard from a neighbor that we get them fairly regularly, but I hadn't seen any myself til last night.

Well, in my backyard anyway. I see alot of deer in my travels, and enough turkeys where I'm not surprised if I spy any in the woodline. And of course all the basic town varmints: possums, raccoons. Bats. Which freak out the wife, and my calling them "just flying mice" doesn't help. I hear an owl every so often. Billions and billions of geese.

Oh, and perhaps a chupacabra. Something got into my trash the other night. The can was full, mebbe 50 lbs, and the heavy bag was on the very bottom. Well, something was strong enough, clever enough, or lucky enough to have pulled the can over, popped the locking lid, and had a buffet with a bunch of gross shit I was trying to throw away. And the something had pointy teefers, judging by the torn bags.

My first thought was racoon, but that was a pretty heavy can. Prolly could've gotten the lid off, but pulled it over...? I kinda doubt it; ditto an ambitious stray cat. Then I thought big dog, but we don't have any strays in the area and I was confident the locking lid technology would thwart the cleverest canine (not particularly challenging I know, just saying). Black bear is not entirely implausible, but would be an extreme stretch.

Which pretty much leaves me with chupacabra.

Come to find out that the guy who made this:

Absolutely did not knowingly lend his name to this:

Different cat entirely.

Ministry Crony Rocket Jones, also known as Ted, has a new banner. I dig it. I mean, who doesn't love a Soylent Green reference? And applying it as he has, well, that's just delicious:

However, I must take issue with the other side of this otherwise excellent banner:

Ted says he's thinking outside the box. But that tagline is in the box! How am I to resolve this paradox? Is it sarcasm, ironic distance, or mere inattention?

Characteristic of national media (and "local" outlets of national media- Boston Globe, z.b), recent coverage of inclement weather ignores the balance of Massachusetts that lies beyond the Boston suburbs. The AP may be interested to know that in addition to the Hub, it's raining in the 130-odd miles between there and New York state too. Since last Tuesday.

We're ok though- thanks for checking.

[wik]Lest anyone doubt how Beacon Hill views the plebes, proles, and peons who populate the state west of say, Cambridge, consider the recent episode where Ted Kennedy's jet was struck by lightning. He spoke in North Adams, was flying to Cape Cod to spend the night, only to come back out to Springfield to speak the next day. The guy can't even bear to spend a night among his non-monied constituents.