Mamamontezz's Mental Rumpus Room

Link Updating

Time to bust out the templates and update a link. Lord and Tyrant Spatula at SpatulaCityBBS has finally broken his treaty with Blogsnot and moved on to MT. Can you all give me an "Amen"?

Don't let the rhetoric fool you. He's a pussycat. And I already have him penciled in on my dance card at the "Dallas BlogHugfest for several clutches. Hope the Spousal Unit doesn't mind. I'm sure he has his name of a few dance cards too, truth be told.

Did I say Dallas for the Texas Blogfest? Well, yes, we're making an extreme effort to be there, God and the IRS willing. The biggest cost will be gasoline, and if we can convince LC Natasha, the Rottweiler's reigning Princess of Pistol Whipping to ride with us, it becomes all the more affordable. I mean, sharing a room with Denita and Eric makes our lodging total a big, whopping $40 plus tax for the whole weekend, and I don't eat, so where else am I going to get a vacation weekend essentially for the cost of gas? Nowhere, I'd venture a guess, and this time the Spousal Unit can tag along, too.

I'd love to have been able to attend the Georgia Writer's Conference at Jekyl Island, but with the turmoil at work it just wasn't possible. The one weekend in March, however, I believe I can do.

And if I'm extremely lucky, I might even get an audience with the Emperor. Be still, my fluttering heart.

Finished!!!

As of this evening, I have completed the first draft of the novel!

Sure, I realize it is far from being truly finished, but this is like getting the frame work done on a house and finally seeing kinda what it's going to look like when it's done.

I had a lot of help on this, and to all of those folks, I am incredibly thankful. I have also formatted it for 6"x9" trade paperback size, and even in it's current un-fleshed state we're looking at just under 200 pages, just at 53,000 words. Not bad for a first effort by a little old housewife in Indiana.

Hopefully this means a return to more regular blogging. This poor little site has really suffered from my inablilty to multi-task creatively. I can multi-task the mundane, but not things like this.

Wish me luck. I start with the agency query letters this week. I have a couple of leads I will be looking into.

And thank you for all of your patience.

Haiku

Clandestine coffee
Pulls me from my nice warm bed.
Possibilities.

Snug in winter coat,
Anticipatory drive
with mind wandering.

Farewell is not Good-bye

Very soon, too soon, my blogson Slaglerock will be
stepping onto a plane, packed and alone, to fly the thousands of miles which stretch between home and his new duty assignment. Although he will not be there for long, it will seem like forever for his young family, his "old" family, and for his friends and supporters both online and off. I will certainly be one of them.

While Slaglerock was assigned to Prince Sultan AFB prior to and during the Iraq buildup, I asked his dad, PapaSlagle, for his email address so that I could correspond. I had never been much of one for traditional penpals, but I decided that this was something I could do. It was a duty thing for me at first, one made easier by the email buddy being my "sorta" nephew. So after a few days of wondering what to say, I sent that first email, and he responded right back. And with that, the seeds of a wonderful online friendship were planted.

Some days our emails flew through the ether so fast and thick it was almost as though we were in Instant Messenger. We shared jokes, stories about our families, bits and pieces of each others' lives, even shared quiet, private mails when one of us just needed sympathy or understanding.

On those days when his duties took him out and away from his desk, I would miss him and worry like some old mother hen. And when I was away for a day or a vacation, I would come back to find jokes and stories and a "How you doing?" waiting for me.

I introduced him to blogging, built him his very first site, and still help him when he needs help with his site or with a post. He took to blogging famously, with a readership that grows daily and blogroll linkage that shames my sorry little blog. One thing about his posts: When Slaglerock posts on something there is absolutely no question whatsoever where he stands.

While my family was going through hard times, he was always there and continues to be there for both me and for his uncle Delftsman. He found an excellent way to pull Delfts out of his darkness by sending him links to the posts at the Slaughterhouse where trolls had left their spoor, turning him lose on them and giving him some of his fight back.

Slaglerock, you have been the son I'll never have and the friend I'll always cherish, and I hope you know I will always be there for you. I wish you Godspeed and safety all the days you are gone. You are in my heart and in my prayers.

MamaRock Out!

Screwed up

I so screwed up today. I had been given a shift to work today that is off my normal shift, and I missed it.

Not only did I miss it, I missed the phone calls by my Lead Operator, trying to get me to come in. I was so sound asleep, I missed the calls completely. Only after getting dressed for my "normal" 2:30 to 10:30 shift did I check *69 to see if I had gotten any calls, and found the call from work had been the last one, hours ago.

When I called, well, it went better than expected. I had expected to be told not to come in. It would have been only fair, as I had really thrown a wrench into the flow of the office by not being there to cover the phones for the day shift operators during their lunches and final breaks. But I was told to come in for the 2:30 shift.

Damnit. If it's not one thing it's another. We're so short right now, and the schedule is so tight, that one person missing is catastrophic. At least they were able to get another evening operator to come in early for break relief, and I imagine he was there quickly.

Wish me luck. I'm sure this will get ugly.

"Group Anxiety"

Something is happening today, and I have no clue what it might be.
There is a charge of electricity in the air, the kind of anxiousness that
comes from the unknown. Even my co-workers feel it, a darkness
slipping in and amongst us that none of us can see, but palpable nonetheless.
Very palpable. Even the cats at home seemed to feel it, and were
nowhere to be found this morning.

Somewhere, I don't know where, a huge amount of energy is being
expended, not all of it good. It's disturbing, unsettling, and knowing that
it is happening without knowing what is happening. The result is a
small, icy finger of panic, stirring in my belly and brushing close to my
heart. It isn't pleasant, and I want desparately for it to go away, but
even more I want to know what is going on to cause this.

Posted for Mama

UPDATE:

I just found out that the reason for this mass anxiety may be from a
large quake in the Atlantic today. Just heard about it on break. ER guy
said everyone coming in today is just bouncing off walls, and the
chaplains said they've see it too.

Also, we've recalled our ambassador from Syria... Looks bad. This is
far from over.

Yes, it is.

It's Valentine's day. Have a nice one.

Wash the dishes for your lady, and don't point it out to her, like some eager Labrador Retriever seeking approval.

Have dinner on the table, even if it's just a pizza you ordered online and had delivered. And get her favorite toppings, not your own, for once.

Change the sheets, even if you don't think they need it. Turn them back nicely, and don't point them out to her.

Take a shower, or a long bath, and have the bathroom picked up and ready for her to take one too. Don't make her step over your shit-stained drawers to get to the tub.

And don't maul her. Just be tender and attentive and love her. If it goes further, fine, but just don't act like that was the main reason for the day.

Treat her the way you would if you wanted her to marry you all over again, as though your whole future depended on it. Assume that this could be your last night together. Love her like you believe you'll never love again for the rest of your life.

Want to get her a nice present? What, haven't you been paying attention?

No big stupid balloon, no long stemmed roses, no satin box of candies that no one really likes, no sexy lingerie; just be her lover and her friend with no expectations and no demands. No piece of shit from the counter of the gas station, or plastic wrapped flower from the grocery store.

Brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, and trace your finger down her cheek to her chin, and look into her eyes and say nothing.

Pick up the telephone and call her to say you were thinking about her. Not about tonight, or about what you want, but about her, how she feels, how she smells, how she looks up at you when you're close to her. Just let her feel loved, wanted, valued, cherished.

Happy Valentine Day.

Vote!

The judging is on at Slaglerock's Slaughterhouse. Go on over and cast your vote for the best.

Looks like Beaker has me beat, but damn, it's a good one. Can't complain. Not like I'm being beat by something drawn in crayola, I guess.

Get on over and cast your vote for your favorite.

Crass Commercialization

Thinking of updating your site? Want a new banner? Considering adding a button?

You can always have one, made to order or just something I find in my twisted little mind. Just for the asking, even. Just let me know what you'd like and I'd be happy to either put one together from your photos, artwork, or idea, or use the great stuff I find and appropriate. I'll even draw something, if that's more suited to your needs.

If you'd like a few more examples, check out the blog-family links. I did most of their banners, and they've been happy with them.

And it won't cost you an arm and a leg. That's between you and Paypal. When I was singing, it was called a "Love Offering." Now, it's called "Paying the Utilities."

Let me know. I'm ready to get started!

I am Churchill

To the tune of "I Am Woman":

I am Churhill, I'm a bore.
I know you've heard it all before,
But I love myself too much to shut my Yap
'cause I'm hateful to the core,
which makes the moonbats love me more
Every time I start another loonie flap.

Oh, yes I'm an Ass
but it's Assdom rightly earned
My mind is a morass,
my neurons dead and burned
If I want to, I can spout anything
I am wrong
I'm indefensible
I am Churchill!

You can hate and reprehend me
but my students will defend me
ever anxious to receive a passing grade
and I'll yell my venom longer
cause my tenure makes me stronger
Until my 15 minutes starts to fade

Oh, yes I'm an Ass
but it's Assdom rightly earned
My mind is a morass,
my neurons dead and burned
If I want to, I can spout anything
I am wrong
I'm indefensible
I am Churchill!

I am Churchill, hear me spew
hear me blame it all on you
as I spread my vitriol across the land
And I'll spout until I'm blue
and not a word of it is true
the fires of hate burn brighter when they're fanned.

Oh, yes I'm an Ass
but it's Assdom rightly earned
My mind is a morass,
my neurons dead and burned
If I want to, I can spout anything
I am wrong
I'm indefensible
I am Churchill!
Oh I am Churchill
I'm indefensible
I am Wrong!

Talk With Me...

I work 5, sometimes 6 days a week as a switchboard operator for a very large group of hospitals. An average of 250 times an evening, hear a beep in my left ear, my cue to say "Thank you for calling (Blah-blah) Hospital, this is (My Name). How may I direct your call?" If it is not that, it is some variation of that.

"Can you hold one moment please? Thank you."
"Thank you for holding. How may I help you?"
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Thank you. Connecting you now."
"Thank you. One moment while I page."
"Thank you. Let me get that number for you."

You would think after doing that 250+ times in a day I'd be all talked out. Well, perhaps some people would be, but I assure you, I am not. Repeating a script over and over is only "speaking" and not "conversing." Sure, I'm tired of parrotting a script, but at the same time I'm starved for conversation, hungry for a genuine discussion and the give and take of minds.

Don't understand that? Apparently neither does a great many people.

Thanks, SpareWhiteGuy

I missed the Super Bowl this year because I was working, so I missed my favorite part: The Ads. Hated that. Some of them are dogs, but some of them are just exceptional.

I had heard about this one on Laura Ingraham's show this evening, and was afraid I woudn't get to see it, but lo and behold, there was the link at SpareWhiteGuy's site. Thank you so much, Handsome. I'm so glad you had it and that I was able to see it. And you're right. It does bring a tear and a lump.

Slagle Rocks.

The Blog-son and Nephew is having a contest and asking for YOUR version of the new Democrat Party Flag. So not to be outdone, I've done one of my own.

Scream on over there and submit your own!

Chapter 25

Here's the latest chapter of the book. I think that in another few chapters this will finally be finished in its first draft. Things are pulling together for the final confrontation with the terrorist, and things could get exciting from this point.

Enjoy. Feedback appreciated. Trust me, I know it's not perfect, so if you see some glaring problem, let me know.

“How long before he realizes you’re not Glenn?”

Beth looked long and hard at “Glenn” as he sat at the back of the stage. They had gone through their entire circle looking for someone to impersonate the mighty blogger, and at nearly the last minute had decided on Darth. The competition had been close, though, but George had refused to shave off his beard, thus eliminating him.

“I don’t know, Mike,” answered Darth through the small mike he wore under the collar of his golf shirt. “As long as the lights stay the way they are, and I can keep this Indiana Jones hat on, we stand a chance of pulling this off… I wonder how hard it would be to turbo-charge one of these scooters, anyway?”

“What’s he doing?” Beth had the disadvantage of having her back to the table where Quinn sat, nonchalantly sipping a coffee and biding his time.

“Nothing at the moment, Beth.” Mike, too, sipped a coffee and used his position across the table from Beth to observe Quinn discretely.

“I still think we should have used George as the decoy” complained Darth. “Think of the fun of shaving off that beard.”

Beth smiled and shook her head. “Yes, perhaps, but I prefer to think of him, beard intact, staking out the ballroom where the gay bloggers are having their cotillion and drag show.”

Then from the stage, “He’s on the move!”

Mike picked up his coffee cup and looked around the room as though looking for a waitress. After a few seconds, he put down the cup and watched as Quinn started away from the table and toward the exit into the atrium. Quickly he pulled his secondary cell phone and speed-dialed a number. “He’s on the move, do you have R2?... Contained and concealed?... And the vest?... Excellent. Out.”

“I hope that’s good news” said both Beth and Darth like some cellular Greek Chorus.

“Good for a start, anyway. Geoff’s in custody and on his way to a holding cell. Our final worry is this Quinn. We still have to get him with enough for a successful prosecution. So far, what we have can’t be directly tied to him. He could always claim it was the Reynolds kid, and we all know how a good defense lawyer can work even an open and shut case.”

“I still vote for the headshot,” Darth mumbled. Beth nodded in tacit agreement. “It’s just not worth the risk, especially during a state of declared war. We don’t need a poster child for wannabes.”

“I agree. I just have to consider the potential for gaining intelligence, too. If I thought we could get anything viable from either Glenn or his boy, I’d cap that son of a bitch myself. At this point, though, we need to get an arrest.”

“That sucks. That really sucks.”

Beth looked back toward the main doors. “Mike, looks like another problem.”

Charging toward their table was Valerie, more leading than being led by Sisyphus. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked beyond upset. She walked straight over to Mike, sat down, and leaned in to whisper “We have a really big problem. We need to take this shit out right now. We have to end this right now!”

Darth and Beth could hear her clearly through their headsets, and Mike could see their alarm as Valerie continued.

“It’s just one big bomb. The whole damned restaurant up there. One big, overpriced, snobbish, rotating bomb full of people, and we need to get them out of there now!”

“Why didn’t we know this earlier?” Mike was perplexed and angry that something had been missed. “Surely to Beejus he didn’t get anything planted today. We’ve had him under observation all afternoon, and he hasn’t had a chance to plant anything.”

“There was no way to get access to that damned restaurant until now. Some joker in hotel security refused to let me in there to search, and then stuck me in a damned holding cell in a sub-basement for 3 damned hours, like he thought I was one of the terrorists. And that stupid restaurant? They don’t even do a lunch, so I couldn’t look then. Not to mentioned they don’t open their doors for dinner until 4pm, and even then they didn’t want to let me in with Sisyphus. I had to pitch a royal fit which got me back in a holding cell, and then had to scream ‘ADA lawsuit’ before they’d release me and let me in the restaurant, bunch of moronic snots.”

Mike sat unmoving, his face stone, as she whispered this to him angrily. He looked into Beth’s eyes across the table as the situation unfolded, and watched the emotions flood across her face as she, too, listened. Mentally, he inventoried his family and friends, prioritizing them, deciding who would leave now and who was potentially expendable and would stay until the desired outcome had been achieved either by Quinn or by Mike and his small, informal posse.

“Valerie, is that it? I need to know right now.”

She stopped her rant for a moment but never leaned away from his shoulder. “I think so. I haven’t found even a hint anywhere else.”

“Freight elevators, utility chases, storage rooms?”

“If I’ve been given access to it, it’s clear. If I haven’t, well, I can’t vouch for it.”

“Go home. Take Sisyphus, Beth, you go with her, and go home. Now.”

She looked as though she had been slapped until Mike turned and took her chin in his hand and pushed back the dark glasses that masked her eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly to her. “Now go home and be safe for another day. Go home and give this big boy a much deserved playtime and a big meal. He certainly has earned it.”

Beth pushed her chair to the table and took up her purse and wrap before walking around the table to Mike. “You tell Dave he’d better not mess-up, or there will be hell to pay when he gets home tonight,” and with that she gave Valerie her elbow and led her from the ballroom.

Mike reached into his pocket one more time for his cell phone, but sat there, just holding it. Suddenly, in his ear, Darth chided “Don’t wimp on us now, Darth Misha, or the Poo-Flinging will begin right here and now.”

“If I want your crap, Sithmonkey, I’ll issue an imperial requisition. And in the mean time, start thinking about what you’re going to do when they call ‘Glenn’ up for his Lifetime Achievement award.”

I Want To Shake Their Hands!

We've all heard the meme the last several days about Lt. Gen. Jim Mattis and the Eeeevil, Vile things he said regarding the amusement value of shooting bad guys in a war. We've all seen the Outrage, the miles of text dedicated to denouncing this man for what he said and demanding Punishment for expressing something so blatently violent and unforgivable.

At least, that was, until today. In an insightful piece by Ralph Peters, himself a retired Army officer, we find out just how on the mark this Lt. General was, and how the press manipulated both his quotes and the situation to further their own agenda against both the military and the ongoing war against terrorism as currently personified by the hostilities in Afganistan and Iraq.

The hypocrisy is stunning. Gen. Mattis told the truth about a fundamental human activity — war — and was treated as though he had dropped a nuclear weapon on an orphanage. Yet when some bozo on a talk show confesses to an addiction or a perversion in front of millions of viewers, he's lionized as "courageous" for speaking out.

Sorry. It's men like Jim Mattis who are courageous. The rest of us barely glimpse the meaning of the word.

Go read the rest of the article. And General Mattis, any time you are in Indianapolis, I would be humbled and proud for the opportunity to shake your hand. The same for you, Mr. Peters.

Progress and such

Well, the first draft of the novel is almost done, and I have a decision to make on publishing. Either I can use a publishing house, Whitmore Publishing, which will read it and either accept it or decline it, or I can go with Lulu and self publish. It seems to be a much better deal than the one at CafePress, and will let me edit my manuscript after the pdf conversion.

Any input? Any insight? Any suggestions? I sure could use the feedback.

Linky Lovin's

While I'm in here doing a little housekeeping, I need to direct you to a few additions to the blogroll that have been added, or will be added as soon as I get my head from my rectal pore.

Suspension of Disbelief is the newest blogchild, the observations and perspective of a conservative athiest with a good mind and his head squarely on his shoulders. Even people with strongly religious and non-inclusive beliefs can read his site and walk away with something positive. He debunks frauds, he points out the insanity of virulent athiests, and he brings reason to the table. Definitely worthy of a read and a link.

Ranting Fox is a brand new blog from a Hoosier in the Heartland. When I organize a Hoosier Blogfest, I hope she has an opportunity to attend. Great insights and a great read.

And TexasBug. This is the one I still need to get in my rolls. Good good good. But she's from Texas, and an Aggie to boot. What's not to like.

Dash on over and tell'em Mama sent you.

Scary! And Serious!

If this doesn't scare the Beejus out of you, I don't know what will.

Thanks, TexasBug.

I love a Challenge

First Key got the spam, and then Acidman ran with it, and challenged someone, anyone, to write a coherent piece using these words in this order: bulky commonness netted monkish delicacy crinkle chromic. Well, okay, here's my shot at fame and fortune:

She shifted the bulky contents of the latest garbage bag and secured it to her cart. It had been a long day, remarkable in its commonness, yet it had netted her a few essentials from the household remains which sat, unwanted and unguarded, in bags and trashcans along the residential street near her resting place.

The old woman had tended to be quiet, aloof, almost monkish when she went on her weekly forage for discarded supplies. But today, it was hard to disguise her excitement at the discovery of each lovely morsel, each delicacy tossed unwanted in the refuse at the curb. A container of stew, a package of frozen balogna, even a few soft onions pitched from the refridgerators of people who had no inkling of their worth had made their way into her cart.

Today would be a feast, she mused, her soft old face a crinkle of childish delight. A celebration under the bridge accompanied by the chromic splendor of a mid-winter sunset was in order. And with her hard won prizes she purposefully wound her way back to her little lair, tucked between the piles of rotting pallets deep within the salvage yard.

Now go read his. He did an awesome job with that piece. Now, if he'd only get that damned book of his published...

State of the Union Address

I don't normally attempt predictions. It involves too much reading and analysis...but I'm feeling froggy today....

Sometime during his speech, I think Bush may take a play out of the Gipper's handbook and force the dhimms to applaud the war in Iraq.

If i'm right, the dhimms will be forced to stand and applaud, thereby lending credibility to President Bush's decisions, but alienating them from their moonbat constituency...

...or...

...they will not stand and applaud, showing themselves to be unsupportive of our troops...thereby pissing off the MAJORITY of Americans that elected the Bush for a second term.

They'll be damned if they do, damned if they don't...*cackle*

If i'm wrong, hell...I'll drink diet mountain dew all day Thursday...

meh.

Nothing To See Here Folks...Move Along

So the U.N. has released a report stating that there was no genocide in the Sudan...

Yeah...when bandits and militiamen, known as janjaweed, are systematically hunting down three different tribes in a massive land grab--at the behest of the Sudanese government--- it's not genocide...it's just a litte farmer's squabble.

This is disturbing. I know it's easy to poke fun and spew at the U.N., but this isn't the first time they've ignored slaughter on a mass scale.

In 1994 Koffee Anus and his U.N. cronies ignored reports that a tribe known as the Hutus were planning an attack on another tribe, the Tutsis. the result was a three month killing spree of over 800,000 people.

I met a Tutsis man and his wife a couple of years back. I was leaving a bookstore when I saw a vehicle pulling up...the license plate simply said "Tutsis."

I approached the man and asked him if he wouldn't mind answering a few questions about Rawanda. I didn't have to ask...he said it was all true. His wife showed me what was left of her left hand--her thumb, index, and middle finger. I also noticed sever burn marks on her face, but knew better than to inquire.

The man unbuttoned his collar and showed me where a Hutu had tried to slit his throat. The man told me he only survived because he thought that since he was going to die, it was better to fight like a man, than die like a dog.

He and his wife escaped Rawanda via some missionaries. He is now a college student studying politcal science and criminal justice. She has a degree in Business Administration and is putting her husband through college.

I thanked the man for his time and apologized if I brought up any bad memories. He happily shook my hand and reassured me that he would NEVER forget what happened in Rawanda and he hoped that Americans would learn about and never forget either.

I pray that the situation in the Sudan doesn't go the direction Rawanda did...but it looks to be so...

But of course, the U.N. is the only moral governing body in the world, so we should take their word for it...

But I guess the slaughter of Africans, Christians, and Jews aren't a big priority for the moral authorities....

meh.

Shout, Shout...Let It All Out

I woke up in a pretty foul mood today...until I read Howard Dean's latest screed...

...and now I'm giggling like Homer Simpson when he hears the word titmouse. Tee Hee.

"I hate the Republicans and everything they stand for, but I admire their discipline and their organization," the failed presidential hopeful told the crowd at the Roosevelt Hotel, where he and six other candidates spoke at the final DNC forum before the Feb. 12 vote for chairman.

***yeaaaaaaaaahhhhrrrrrgggggggg!!***

Wow...that's some gen-u-wine liberal tolerance for ya...Heh, discipline and liberalism aren't things I would normally associate with each other...

But Dean said the Democrats should not change their beliefs to be "Republican lite."

***yeaaaaaaaaahhhhrrrrrgggggggg!!***

Um...deanie...just some friendly advice. The only way most democrats can win an election is to seem "Republican." Just ask Slick Willy...his duplicity got him eight years of free room and board.

"We can talk about our faith, but we cannot change our faith," he said, echoing themes he sounded in his presidential bid. "We need to be people of conviction."

***yeaaaaaaaaahhhhrrrrrgggggggg!!***

I'm not sure how to respond to this one...I can't imagine liberals having any faith OR conviction in anything other than themselves.

Later, he said that what "95% of Americans are really concerned about" is national security. But he said Americans also do not want to sacrifice the nation's values. "They want America to be the moral leader of the world again," he said.

***yeaaaaaaaaahhhhrrrrrgggggggg!!***

Deanie Weenie...who are you foolin'? You know damn good and well you have NO idea what America is concerned about...if you did, you'd be a republican. (shudder the thought)

Oh, the Horror! The Horror!

In a recent developement, CNN has obtained this video capture from a suspected terrorist site claiming responsibility for the taking of beloved bad boy Cartman of South Park fame.

The terrorists, who giggled incessantly during the video, have declared Cartman was taken hostage as an enemy of the Cartoon Network, and will be erased within 48 hours unless Special Ops Cody is released by a rival terrorist group. They also demanded a later bed time on weekdays and less homework at IPS 108, a junior high school located in Indianapolis, Indiana.

One of the terrorists, who called himself Eddy Obi Ben-Wan-Kenobi, read from a prepared statement, while Cartman could be heard cursing in the background at two other terrorists, also named Ed.

Representatives from the Comedy Channel could not be reached for comment, but former cast member Towelie did confirm that Cartman had been approached recently by persons claiming to be from the USO for a tour which was to include Newark, NJ, Baghdad, and Mosul.

"Like, we all told him not to go to Newark. Look at what happened to Jimmy... Jimmy... Oh, you know, that guy who they never found a loooong time ago," stated Towelie. "Even Chef told him it was a really bad idea."

This is a Bad Thing

This is really bad thing, if it signals a trend among service providers and weblog hosts.

My initial concern was that the web host either bowed to pressure from the mullahs or their proxies to drop the access, or were accepting monies or the promise of favors in return from these same entities.

Even worse was the possibility that it was at the request of the perfumed parlor-snakes of Foggy Bottom as a means of ingratiating themselves with the Revolutionary Guard to appease them out of a nuclear program.

Why all of a sudden does a server completely disconnect these people? It's not like it's an Iranian or Saudi or Syrian server, controlled by the government. It's a server in Texas, for Chrissakes, the state with the most fiercely independent people in the nation. This is the state where at any time they could decide they want to be a sovereign nation (again) and secede with impunity. Hard to imagine that a person or a group of persons in a state like Texas would silence the voices of an entire nation as it cries out for freedom and justice.

Yet this company, The Planet, has done exactly that and cut-off access to the Iranian bloggers, the only real voice of the people in the country and the only portal for freedom and free information into the country. And the real reason?

They're afraid of Homeland Security. Seriously.

Aaron Weisburd, of Carbondale, Ill., who tracks down websites affiliated with Islamic terror groups for his organization, Internet Haganah, suspects The Planet may just be "trigger happy" at the moment following recent reports in the Dallas media. Web servers operated by The Planet were said to have hosted some Al Qaeda-affiliated sites whose owners had bought space through middlemen.

A day after a story aired on The Planet in November on the Dallas CBS affiliate station, two Al Qaeda websites and two for Hamas were no
longer available. The sites were located by Mr. Weisburd, who says if
anything the US authorities actually pressure providers to keep suspect sites
online so they can be monitored - an approach he criticizes
strongly.

The article goes on to state that Iranian bloggers listing other countries as their location are putting along just fine, but that Iranian bloggers listing Iran as their location were given only 48 hours in which to find new servers (and quite likely to also get full backups of their archives so not to lose them completely) before shutting down the sites.

We as individuals and as a nation value free speech and hold it more dear than most of our other rights under the constitution. It is the right of free speech which helps us to preserve all of those other rights. And yet out of fear of losing a buck, the ability to exercise just a little bit of this freedom was ripped from the fingertips of a people that yearns in the darkness for the light of liberty and self detimination.

It is time to place that shoe firmly upon the other foot.

Posted for Mama

The Great Escape

Oh, we had us some fun this morning. About an hour or so ago, I hear this yelp from the bedroom, followed by my husband asking where the rats are. I ask him why, and he informs me that one of them had just walked across his face while he was asleep in bed. Needless to say, that pretty much woke him up really quickly and not in the best of moods.

I look into Cecilie and Dumpling's cage and lo and behold, there are no rats. The cage wasn't as secure as I had believed it to be, and they had worked their little ratty way out of it and into our bedroom. AND they had chased the cat out of the bedroom on top of all that.

Let me tell you now, rat-catching at 4am should be a spectator sport. At one point, he had the box spring and mattress standing up on one side, while he "shushed" and "tsk-tsk'ed" behind them, trying to herd them under the bedframe on my side so that I could catch their little rodent selves and recage them. Him in his underwear, mad as hell, herding rats. It was hard to bend over and catch them because every time I almost caught one I'd get tickled and miss.

Well, needless to say the cage is now much more secure and they have been returned to it. They're not happy about it, either. They snuck down to their previous escape place, only to find it clipped tighter than Fabio's G-string. I actually think they're pouting.

It could have been worse. At least they didn't climb up to the Misha's and Slagle's cage and let themselves in for a rat-soiree. I do believe they're smart enough to do it, if the springs weren't as snug as they are.

Little boogers.