Collectable George W. Bush

Of course there's no president more vile, despicable, and, as Daffy Duck might say, "detessssstible" than George W. Bush. And anyone who might have an intolerance for unpleasant things, for instance, cat puke on the dining room table when you wake up or your house on fire at bedtime, knows exactly what I'm talking about: the man's no good.

But for that very reason -- because George W. Bush is so bad that it nearly causes us to heave just from the thought of him, or, worse, the sound of his voice or sight of him -- he's collectable. It's the villains, the turds of history that command the big bucks. And I'm afraid I'm not going to have much G.W.B. memorabilia to cash in, since I wouldn't be able to live in the same house.

I was thinking of a local store going out of business, and I remember a few years ago they had a truly heaveworthy piece of "artwork," with George bowing his head in prayer and along side of him were George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, hands on his shoulders, also deep in prayer. A piece of garbage like that -- and however you define garbage this either qualifies or sets the new standard -- is going to be valuable someday. Collectable, 1) Because it has to do with this despicable creature we were dumb enough to allow within five light-years of the White House; 2) Because it is a sign of our times, the whole post 9/11 time of national insanity. You remember how it was, when we had the weak and fearful driving by with American flags attached to their driver's side window (I always thought, Hey, you afraid you might forget what country you live in?).

In the future -- fast forward -- it will be no other way -- anything from this period relating to any of this, and to our "Beloved Leader" is going to command some bucks.

So, if you have a George W. Bush doll in his military get-up from a few years ago, hang on to it. Or if you happen to have the picture I mentioned -- and are smart enough to read this blog at the same time -- hang on to it, too!

American Idol - Jason Castro

The other one on American Idol I think is having real troubles is Jason Castro. I don't like the whole dim bulb routine that he's been giving since the very beginning. Please, know something about something.

The biggest redeeming factor for him is the cuteness thing. For the vast majority of folks, no doubt, he is extremely good looking. Who knows what his hair is like if you unraveled it? It might be smelly and ratty and nothing worth having, but in the face he has that broad face, big smile, interesting eyes, etc. When it comes to the singing, not so much.

He's done some cool things, with the guitar and everything arranged in a minimal way. But after a while it starts to show that he has no range, no second act. He might make a few records, and be the male Colbie Caillat, with that kind of breezy in-your-ear sound. He has hit record potential, but his singing, compared to the others, really is limited.

It was painful tonight, like Simon said, the two minutes was forever.

American Idol - Brook White

I could barely watch Brook White tonight after she messed up and had to start over. In fact, I went and fed the cats and just barely listened to what sounded like a pathetic, desperate performance after that.

I started out a real fan, but lately she acts like she's about to fall apart. She did that with a song a few weeks ago, started off and started over, and I don't like it one single bit. It really ruins it when you (me, the viewer) has to sit there and here this stopping and sputtering and then feel uncomfortable all the way through because some other disaster might befall her.

She definitely has a lot of talent. But I think she's gone as far as she needs to go on the show.

The Everlasting Birthday

At one of my other blogs I have a newspaper piece about a guy's birthday party, his 80th.

Charles D. Fessenden passed his eightieth birthday at his home in East Brownfield, on the Fryeburg road, Thursday, the 14th. In the evening a few of his friends and neighbors gave him a surprise party, which he greatly enjoyed. They carried refreshments of ice cream, cake, cookies and saltines. Besides the family those present were: [list of names]. The evening was spent in general conversation and telling stories, which caused much merriment. After wishing Mr. Fessenden good health and many returns of the day, they left at a late hour with many memories of the evening.

There's usually no record at all of someone's birthday party, and of course there doesn't need to be. As for myself, I wouldn't like to open the newspaper everyday and see what I was up to, descriptions of my birthdays, etc. But there it is for this old guy from long ago.

It sounds like a great time for the folks there, with the refreshments, conversation, and merriment. It has a kind of everlasting feel, then, with them leaving "at a late hour with many memories of the evening." Like they're still out there somewhere mulling it over.

SOS Coast Guard - Final Entry

I remember I was writing a little about that Bela Lugosi serial, SOS Coast Guard. I finished watching it. As I recall, the main character, hero, was Terry Kent. And it had a happy ending. Kind of a weird ending, [SPOILER ALERT], with Thorg being shot in the cave, then falling backwards into the water, never, we assume, to be seen again. But he IS seen again.

Dr. Whatever, Bela's character, doesn't win. The scientist formulates the antidote to counteract his terrible gas, and no, it wasn't Beano.

Lately, I've been watching the other Bela serial I have, "The Phantom Creeps." It definitely has its moments. In this one, and it says it on the DVD box, too, you are rooting for Bela to conquer the world. It'd be kind of cool to have Bela Lugosi conquer the world, then be holding all us hostage for, what exactly? What would Bela want from us? It's ridiculous to want to conquer the world.

And it's even more ridiculous when he talks about destroying the world. Why would he want to do that? Where would he be then?

Getting Rid of Old Computers

I suppose it's an environmental nightmare, old computers, what to do with them. I was given the task today of cleaning out some old junk in order to get rid of it. Which always carries with it various thoughts. Such as "I remember the day I got this," "I remember when this was brand new and I was trying to keep it from getting scratched," etc.

Today the junk being gathered included old computers, which are around probably everyone's house who's had more than one computer in the last 15 years. One of the computers to be gotten rid of today was a Magnitronic (I think) brand. It was the first PC I owned, and I got it in 1996. It had a one-gig hard drive that came with it. And we had installed, a couple years later, a seven-gig hard drive. So those were both in it. Last time I tried to start it, after it had been in the basement for a while, it wouldn't work. Hung up somewhere on the booting.

This old computer I used quite a bit. I used to do a lot of graphics work, and there came a time when the monitor was so darkened, I had to adjust the brightness on the graphics to be way overexposed just to see them clearly, then remember to adjust them back when it came time for saving. So I know the monitor was no good!

The other old computer today was gotten in 2000, and had the Windows Millennium operating system. I really liked it. Fast and pretty efficient. It was a fine computer, except for various troubles that developed along the way. It actually developed troubles right away, but I always had work-arounds. Then I took it to get it fixed one time and the technicians made it worse. I could barely boot it up without having to go to Safe Mode or watch it continually telling me that I had an improper shut-down (which I didn't) and it needed to check the hard drive for errors. I guess on second thought that computer was a piece of crap. But when it worked, it worked great! And I did like it.

I destroyed the hard drive in that one a couple months ago. I have a twisted bit of metal on my shelf. That's my 60-gig hard drive, hopefully destroyed beyond recognition. For my Magitronic (whatever it is), I took out the two hard drives and will destroy them someday. It's not an easy process! They don't call them HARD drives for nothing.

I also -- and this was one I nearly forgot -- remembered I had an Image Writer printer for a Mac (1980s) and so I got rid of it. And I do believe, yes, I'm 100% certain, I have an old Mac (from the '80s) somewhere, not here at the house, and it needs to be retrieved and disposed of. Last time I tried to turn it on, it wouldn't work.

Spam Spam Spam

I try not to read much spam. I'm usually protected from getting too much of it by various filters up stream from me. But once in a while the filters must act up, because today was a day for bunches of spam. Like close to 200 messages. Most of them things like "MailerDaemon..." something or other. Which got quite repetitive. Big list of stuff like that.

One had a look like it could be an actual message, but no one I knew. I didn't open it directly, since I never want to give them hope. But I opened it in a text file, and it had to do with enhancing your sexual pleasure. With 'enhance' and 'pleasure' both spelled wrong. It looked like it was from Holland or one of the other nether regions.

Like I said, the filters were acting up, but this one had one of those little random text snippets that, I guess, is designed to trick the filters into thinking it's an actual message. I took out the html codes, so whatever line breaks were true in the original are gone. Here's this important text as it stands now:

Never sleep or wake in peace. In consequence of on the car is, by all means, to be protected by was allembracing. Margaret knew that if she yielded around the temples of the hindus, and many religious were stripping, picking, and shovelling the gravel son's playmates gave him water mixed with powdered the would be aim, to be placed on the top of a it? Confess now, don't you feel a little better? Of all kinds of metals.37 these are the six mountains, of its intense brown blotcheswith the azure throat nineteen and she is evidently no native of alemtejo, nodded. Speech had suddenly left him. He did not o sinful wretch, thou desirest to stay me who takes in the jumna, itself a mighty stream. As would i love you better than i do? She asked.. isbdneldjbaaabiida.

"Never sleep or wake in peace" actually resonates with me, because I've had troubles lately taking naps and having the phone ring. And some of that is spam of the audio sort, such as a credit card company who gives us a recorded message about four times a month. But today I took a long nap, and, hard to believe, the phone didn't ring once.

"In consequence of on the car is, by all means, to be protected by was allembracing." I wouldn't put it that way exactly, but I moved the car today while cleaning some junk out of the garage, and, yes, it was protected.

"Margaret knew that if she yielded around the temples of the hindus..." I know someone named Margaret, and it would be good if she developed her spiritual side more.

"Confess now, don't you feel a little better?" I don't feel so badly, although there's really nothing to confess. I'm happy to proclaim it.

"the azure throat nineteen and she is evidently no native of alemtejo, nodded." Much too young for me.

"Speech had suddenly left him." That's a strange feeling, when you simply have nothing to say. I was testing out an old typewriter in the basement, part of that cleaning junk project mentioned above, and I typed the old sentence, "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country." I couldn't think of anything else. And it stuck on the 'r' (badly), and a couple other letters (not so much.)

"He did not o sinful wretch, thou desirest to stay me who takes in the jumna, itself a mighty stream." This sounds like maybe 'Heart of Darkness,' I don't know. The jumna has an African sound to it, plus the Congo is a mighty stream. Bigger than I thought, till I was reading a few snippets about it the other day. As for the 'sinful wretch,' it's important to work with your dark side, or try consciously not to deny it.

"As would i love you better than i do? She asked.. isbdneldjbaaabiida." I used to do something like this, write out the first letter of sentences I was thinking of. It was a sort of code, but not one to be deciphered later. Just a way of expressing whatever was on my mind at that moment, with no regard for preservation or later reading. So what could this be? I hate to guess!