Chris Hansen’s blog

Seen in alt.obituaries, and it’s probably not safe for work (unless you work in a blue state).

From: cubby77267 at aol dotcom
Newsgroups: alt.obituaries
Subject: Bush losing key demographic
Date: Sat, 01 Jul 2006 06:23:24 -0700

WASHINGTON, June 13 – President Bush appears to be losing support among a key group of voters who had hitherto stood firmly with the president even as his poll numbers among other groups fell dramatically.

A new Gallup poll shows that, for the first time, Bush’s approval rating has fallen below 50% among total fucking morons, and now stands at 44%. This represents a dramatic drop compared to a poll taken just last December, when 62% of total fucking morons expressed support for the president and his policies.

The current poll, conducted by phone with 1,409 total fucking morons between May 4 and May 8, reveals that only 44% of those polled believe the president is doing a good job, while 27% believe he is doing a poor job and 29% don’t understand the question.

The December poll, conducted by phone with 1,530 total fucking morons, showed 62% approved of the president, 7% disapproved and 31% didn’t understand the question.

Faltering approval ratings for the president among a group once thought to be a reliable source of loyal support gives Republicans one more reason to be nervous about the upcoming mid-term elections. “If we can’t depend on the support of total fucking morons,” says Sen. Rick Santorum (R-PA), “then we’ve got a big problem. They’re a key factor in our electoral strategy, and an important part of today’s Republican coalition.”

“We’ve taken the total fucking moron vote for granted,” says Rep. Tom Feeney (R-FL), “and now we’re paying for it. We’ve let the Democrats control the debate lately, and they’ve dragged discourse back into the realm of complex, nuanced issues. So your average total fucking moron turns on his TV and sees his Republican Congressman arguing about Constitutional law or the complexities of state formation in the Middle East, and he tunes out. He wants to hear comforting, pandering, flattering bromides and he doesn’t want to hear a logical argument more complex than what you’d find on a bumper sticker.”

For Feeney, the poll is a dire warning that Republicans can ignore only at their peril. “This should send a signal that we have to regain control of the debate if we want the support of our key constituencies in the coming election and beyond. We need to bring public discourse back into the realm of stupidity and vacuity. We should be talking about homosexual illegal immigrants burning flags. We should be talking about the power of pride. We should be talking about freedom fries. These are the issues that resonate with total fucking morons.”

But some total fucking morons say it’s too late. Bill Snarpel of Enid, Oklahoma is a total fucking moron who voted for Bush in both 2000 and 2004. But he says he won’t be voting for Bush in 2008.

“I don’t like it that he was going to sell our ports to the Arabs. If the Arabs own the ports then that means they’ll let all the Arabs in and then we’ll all be riding camels and wearing towels on our heads. I don’t want my children singing the Star Spangled Banner in Muslim.”

Total fucking moron Kurt Meyer of Turlock, California also says his once solid support for Bush has collapsed. “He invaded Iraq and all those soldiers died, and for what? We destroyed all their WMDs, but now their new president is making fun of us and saying he’s going to build nuclear bombs and that we can’t stop him. Well, nuclear bombs are even worse than WMDs, so what did we accomplish?”

Laura McDonald, a total fucking moron from Chandler, Arizona, says she is disappointed that the president hasn’t been a more forceful advocate of Christian values. “This country was founded on Christian values,” she says, “but you’d never know it looking around and seeing all the Mexicans running around. I thought Bush was going to bring Jesus back into the government. Instead, Christians are being persecuted worse than ever before in history, because all these Mexicans come here and tell Christians that we have to respect their religious beliefs. So now it’s illegal for children to pray in school. Soon it will be illegal for them to speak English.”

Not all total fucking morons have turned their backs on the president. Jeb Larkin of Topeka, Kansas says he still fully supports Bush. “He is doing a great job. He is a great president. He is a great decider. I have a puppy. His tail sticks straight up and you can see his butthole.”

And not all Republican lawmakers are concerned about the poll. Sen. Lamar Alexander (R-TN), for one, does not find it a cause for anxiety. While he agrees that his party should not take total fucking morons for granted, they “really don’t have anywhere else to go. They’re never going to be able to understand someone like Al Gore or John Kerry or anybody intelligent and articulate who wants to talk about substantive issues. Just try having a conversation with one of them about global warming. They’ll say, ‘Oh, but Rush says volcanoes consume more ozone than humans do.’ I mean, they’re morons! Total fucking morons!”

“They’ve got nowhere else to go,” Alexander reaffirms with a smile, “and they always vote.”

I never got the hang of waterbeds, but I’d bet that the person who invented this got the hang of it…

…is here. Normally one gets ideas in the head, but this gentleman seems to have gotten one in another place…

…is about the London Underground. Beware, kiddies, there is strong language in this one; USans in particular might be very annoyed by the language in this video. But, I haven’t stopped laughing yet!

Troy Chemicals is a workplace where some things just aren’t allowed.

…is here. I guarantee, it’ll excite you no end…zzzzzzzzz.

Those of you who have visited Chez Hansen and Tan will know that we have a small patch of garden (=US backyard). I bought a lawnmower earlier this year so that I wouldn’t have to depend on the Rector being able to find his in his garage (it’s usually buried) and lend it to me. So yesterday I decided to mow the lawn. The mower is one of those that has no wheels; it glides on a column of air pushed down from the motor, and it’s a real gem. While mowing, I discovered a bird’s nest under our largest shrub, and took another look at the vine that’s trailing across the trellis on top of our wall. For the first time, it’s begun to flower this year. And what flowers! They are white with a purple band, with a “cup” in the middle holding stamen and pistil. Here’s a picture:

I am told by my former workmate John that this is a passion flower. It grows on a vine, and very fast, too. Here’s another picture showing several of the flowers. There are literally hundreds of buds on the vine that have yet to open; I anticipate a few days of wild colour when they do.

Also yesterday, one of our squirrels paid us a visit, and I managed to get a little picture of him eating a peanut on our windowsill.

I even got a little movie, but can’t embed that here.

But the neighbourhood must be a hotbed of strange activity. This morning I looked out the back door and saw something under our clothesline that looked from that vantage point like a very large fungus. As I’d just mowed last night, I thought it improbable that a fungus that large had grown in the space of 12 hours or so. I took a closer look, and it was a bagel.

I looked over to the fence, and there was another one:

I looked over the fence, and a third was in my neighbour’s garden. Leaving that one for the birds, I picked the other two up and threw them away. Someone must have thrown them over our wall. As to why, I have no idea. Perhaps some surreal game of horseshoes?? If so, they missed.

…Thanks to Towleroad, I watched this clip, showing a young woman who has a rather odd phobia. I then looked at the sidebar, and discovered a shedload of other Maury Povich clips showing the results of various paternity tests. My dad used to watch Maury years ago and when I stayed at Elm Street, I pretty much had to watch too. I had mercifully forgotten how repulsive they were, and yet…they are as addictive as peanuts in a bowl. I had to tear myself away from the site to prevent myself from watching every last clip.

So beware!

An Irishwoman of advanced age visited her physician to ask his help in reviving her husband’s libido.

“What about trying Viagra?” asks the doctor.

“Not a chance”, she said. “He won’t even take an aspirin”.

“Not a problem”, replied the doctor. “Give him an Irish Viagra. Drop it into his coffee. He won’t even taste it. Give it a try and call me in a week to let me know how things went”.

It wasn’t a week later that she called the doctor, who directly inquired as to progress.

The poor dear exclaimed, “Oh, faith! T’was horrid. Just terrible, doctor!”.

“Really? What happened?” asked the doctor.

“Well, I did as you advised and slipped it in his coffee and the effect was almost immediate! He jumped hisself straight up, with a twinkle in his eye, and with his pants a-bulging fiercely! With one swoop of his arm, he sent the cups and everything else on the table flying, ripped me clothes to tatters and took me then and there, making wild, mad, passionate love to me right there on the tabletop! It was a nightmare, I tell you, an absolute nightmare!”

“Why so terrible?” asked the doctor, “Do you mean the sex your husband provided wasn’t good”?

“Oh, no, no, no, doctor, the sex was fine indeed! ‘Twas the best sex I’ve had in 25 years! But sure as I’m sittin’ here, I’ll never be able to show me face in Starbucks again!”

HWMBO had an Xclef-HD-500 MP3 which he really enjoyed. It had a 20GB HDD and was very responsive with an FM tuner and good sound. However, about 6 months ago it died. No explanation. Last week I told him I’d investigate. I first tried a scandisk on the HDD, but that only got me about 25% of the way through the disk before it stalled. So, my diagnosis was a bad HDD. I opened the thing up and took out the old HDD. I was going to order a new one, but just today recalled that we had another 2-1/2″ drive kicking around. It’s only 14 GB, but that is probably enough for HWMBO. I installed it, put new firmware into the thing, and, by gum, it worked! I feel very accomplished.

HWMBO just called and said he was coming home. I told him “I have a surprise for you, sweetheart.” He asked whether it was a special dinner. I said, “No, but I will tell you that it didn’t cost anything.” He was very pleased. I hope it’ll keep playing for a long time.

I’ve heard lots of sob stories about why one politician or another is afraid of losing an election, but this one takes the cake.

Devil’s Food, of course.

I tried out TrustFlow II for LiveJournal. Another one of those things you do when you’re bored. The following people not on my friends list are close by:

• , , , , (350 – 400)
• , , , (450 – 500)
• , , , , , , (500 – 550)

• , , (550 – 600)
• , , , , (600 – 650)
• , , (650 – 700)
• , , , , , , , , (700 – 750)
• , , , , , , , , , , , (750 – 800)
• , , , , , , , , , , , (800 – 850)
• , , , , , (850 – 900)
• , , , , , , , , , (900 – 950)
• , , , , , , , , , , , , , (950 – 1000)
• , , , , , , , , , (1000 – 1050)

Created by ciphergoth; hosted by LShift.

TrustFlow II: Who is closest to your friends
list?

The Singaporean poet Arthur Yap died recently, of throat cancer. I had never heard of him, but the blogger Mr. Wang has written a very eloquent piece on him, here. Do read it; I may pick up a book of Yap’s poems, if one is available here. He sounds like a poet I might like.

Later note: I have now discovered that Yap was also gay.

Anyone notice lately that cans of tuna no longer contain tuna up to the brim? I just made some tunafish salad for HWMBO’s lunch tomorrow, and opened two cans of tuna. Once the liquid was drained off, they contained about 1/2 tuna and 1/2 empty space. This is the old disappearing chocolate bar trick, done with fish instead. I wonder when we’ll end up with tuna cans that contain about 1/4 inch of tuna, kind of like a scum at the bottom, once opened.

The church rents space to Nigerian Pentacostal churches to keep itself afloat. One rather noisy bunch is currently singing the most lugubrious version of “How Great Thou Art” I have ever heard–except for the previous time they sung it, two or three weeks ago. It’s a staple. I was listening to Enya at the same time, and the strains of Enya melded with the largo version of How Great Thou Art made a very bizarre fugue. Perhaps I’ll record them surreptitiously and then make a mix. Remember, folks, you heard it here first.

I’m preaching at St. John’s Larcom Street on August 6th–it’s the Feast of the Transfiguration. I shall start writing soon; it’s never too early. Lots of good preachers get up on Sunday morning, jot down a few thoughts, and deliver a marvelous sermon two hours later. Some pore over the Scriptures for weeks, write, cross out, and write some more. Both methods often come up with good sermons. They can also come up with crap, too. The point of the exercise is to come up with something pithy, interesting, and to the point.

Europride is in London next week. Unfortunately, we’re also booked to go to a musical evening at St. John’s. HWMBO thinks I’ll be too tuckered out to do both. We haven’t been to Pride in three years, and frankly, I want to go this year. I hope I can persuade him that I won’t go to sleep during the musical evening, my face falling into my plate of lasagna during the supper.

Will begin the chili for dinner shortly. No beans this time. Not because I don’t like beans, but because I forgot to buy a can. Oh well…these Sunday trading laws are a bitch.

Then go here for your safety net. Caution: don’t be drinking any coffee while watching this.

…is here; gives “I’m forever blowing bubbles” a whole new meaning.

…is Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori of Nevada. She is the first woman to be elected or chosen a Primate of a church within the Anglican tradition.

Is this a surprise? Yes, in a way. But she is very good on lesbian and gay issues, has been an extremely good bishop in Nevada, and will make a splendid Presiding Bishop and Primate.

The House of Deputies is currently considering the motion to confirm. More as it happens.

Louie Crew’s information page on Bishop Jefferts Schori is here. Bishop Jefferts Schori’s reaction to her election is here. May God, who began the good work in her, bring it to completion.

As some of you know, I am a Freemason. I was raised to the sublime degree of a Master Mason two weeks after my heart attack, in February (22nd, to be exact: Wor. Bro. George Washington’s birthday). After the three degrees in Craft Freemasonry, there are a lot of additional rites to which one can apply. One of these is York Rite Masonry. On Thursday night I became a Companion of the York Rite.

The Chapter (Masons meet in Lodges; York Rite Masons meet in Chapters) is smaller than a lodge, with different rituals. I can’t say much about the ritual, except to say that it was done excellently and was very impressive. The regalia is quite different (the apron is a different colour, and a sash that is identical to a deacon’s stole and worn the same way is used) but the ideas are the same and an amplification of what was taught in Craft Freemasonry.

The Masonic centre in which Goliath Chapter meets is in Southgate, almost at the Northeast end of the Piccadilly Line. It’s a bit dingy outside, but OK inside. The dinner afterwards, except for the appetiser (which was fish) was excellent.

Goliath Lodge’s website is here, webmaster one Bro. Chris Hansen. There’s not a lot there, but some of the links might pique the interest of non-Masons and be sources of information if anyone wants to go a bit further.

Yes, we have secrets in Masonry; however, we are not a secret society. We meet in known places, at known times, and the rituals are readily available in regalia shops and on the ‘net. We keep some modes of recognition secret, indeed. There is sometimes need to ensure that people who say they are brethren really are.

I have an office (the lowliest office of a Lodge: Inner Guard–basically, the door opener) but hope to continue up the offices. Ritual is always memorised, and this help a person to gain confidence and skill. I like Freemasonry; so much so that I’m also joining my brother’s lodge in Marblehead, although I’ll only be a sporadic attendee. The people I’ve met in Freemasonry have been excellent fellows: interesting to talk to and what used to be called “clubbable”.

…from “Debriefing the Boys” is here. He’s a young articulate gay man who decided he had to come out to his family, and prepared for it, and finally did it. The link to his post above details how he did it. A must-read for all (yes, you straight people too).

I’m to be exalted into the York Rite of Freemasonry tonight. Nervous about it too. I have to remember lots of stuff I’ve only encountered once. I expect it’ll be interesting though.

Decided to get my exercise today by walking to Brick Lane to get my weekly fix of rye bread. Put on my headphones and listened to Wendy Carlos’s various Switched-On albums as I walked. I got halfway up Brick Lane and encountered a police barricade. I thought to myself, “I’ll walk around this” so took a left, and then a right, and woo-hoo! Another barricade. I gave up and took a bus home. I got my exercise, but no bread to speak of. I’ve looked at the news and the websites but no information on what was going on. I expect it was another raid of some sort. Brick Lane is a centre of Muslim life in East London, just as it was once the centre of Jewish life in London: the oppressed minorities over time have changed, but the oppression remains.

It’s the Queen’s official 80th birthday today (she really turned 80 in April), and it was Prince Philip’s 85th last Saturday (his real birthday; unlike the Queen, he doesn’t have a fake one). I watched part of the thanksgiving serivce and then the toasts at lunch later in Mansion House. The Lord Mayor must be a twit: remarking that the menu was chosen in a competition on BBC2, he began to pepper his speech with food references, to the point where I wanted to shout “Bring me a basin!”. The Queen then spoke, and quoted Groucho Marx: “It’s not hard to get old; you just have to live long enough.” The Prime Minister, loving every minute of it, was as obsequious as he could be. Then they all sat down to tuck into the menu selected by BBC2 viewers and cooked by celebrity chefs (but not really by them, just under their supervision).

I’m starting to get a bit antsy about not working. While it’s nice to have only occasional gigs and have the rest of my time free for whatever, I think I need to get back to more or less full time employment sooner rather than later. We are OK moneywise, but it would be better for me to work.

As you’re probably all aware, sometimes spammers put strings of words in their spam emails to try to fool spamblockers. Today I got an especially odd one. I’ve stripped out all the HTML, about four or five random phrases that were not sentences, and the actual spam images that gave the message the spammer wanted to convey, and here is the email that resulted:

Prism combinate a centaur.
A scythe gives a pink slip to an asteroid.
A smelly short order cook borrows money from the deficit over a traffic light.
A radioactive chess board dances with the abstraction, but an eggplant toward the anomaly pours freezing cold water on the so-called photon.
Most people believe that an elusive food stamp gives lectures on morality to another dolphin for a judge, but they need to remember how lazily a short order cook prays.
Sometimes the flatulent asteroid trembles, but some ravishing polygon always is a big fan of another thoroughly snooty earring!
A cab driver reads a magazine, and a cloud formation sweeps the floor; however, the asteroid inside the buzzard accurately operates a small fruit stand with a mating ritual related to an eggplant.
The oil filter sells an asteroid to the squid.
If a salad dressing ostensibly knows the crane near the bartender, then a briar patch from the oil filter gets stinking drunk.
If the class action suit about a hydrogen atom ignores a mortician, then the vacuum cleaner hides.
A fairy is single-handledly muddy.
The asteroid has a change of heart about an unstable pine cone, or an eagerly South American bottle of beer finds subtle faults with an earring.
If the wheelbarrow plays pinochle with a paper napkin beyond the chess board, then an oil filter takes a coffee break.
A varigated short order cook operates a small fruit stand with a gratifying dolphin.
If a mitochondrial movie theater falls in love with a dirt-encrusted stovepipe, then an overwhelmingly mean-spirited insurance agent prays.
A diskette ridiculously assimilates a corporation around a microscope.
Any cocker spaniel can write a love letter to a photon around a ball bearing, but it takes a real polar bear to negotiate a prenuptial agreement with an outer diskette.
The dirt-encrusted football team knowingly sanitizes a dreamlike cloud formation.
The senator goes deep sea fishing with the short order cook.

I’m especially enamoured of the cocker spaniel which can “write a love letter to a photon around a ball bearing.” There does seem to be a somewhat interplanetary feel to this spam, with lots of asteroids, even a “flatulent asteroid”, no less. Presumably as good a method of propulsion as any.

The US Postal Service is putting out a Judy Garland stamp. To celebrate, Nightcharm has written an essay on the meaning of The Wizard of Oz, which should be mandatory reading for all.

I guess that in Ipswich, Queensland, Australia, even Viagra won’t raise some things…

My friend included a line of Chinese in his blog today (syndicated from Blogger, BTW). I took it to Babelfish, and got this translation:

Likes by hating mesozoically, because likes living hates

I wonder how one could “hate mesozoically”.

…for this worthy addition to the Our Lady of the Pink Flamingoes Religious Schlock Collection (and no, I’m not going to buy one to contribute; ailuropods seem to make more money these days than I do…)

I have been doing some more geneological explorations, using as a guide a family tree given to me by my uncle, and a book on ancestry.com about the Child family (my mother’s father’s family). Using the book, I’ve now gotten back to Benjamin Child in the 17th century and Roxbury, Massachusetts.

This stuff is addictive. HWMBO wanted me to stop, so I will. However, it gets very interesting back there. The book mentions my great-grandfather (born 1871).

…is here; beware and do not watch while you are drinking coffee or tea.

If you think you know the woman in the picture…you may be wrong! Click here for some hilarity.

…is here; read if you dare!

HWMBO and I have been living in this maisonette for more than 7 years now. It’s got a nice little garden in back, thoughtfully provided with bushes and grass by the previous tenant.

Having grass, I’ve had to mow it regularly. Sometimes I haven’t bothered, and it’s gotten quite high. But, eventually, I mow it, and collect the clippings and toss them in the compost heap that the previous tenant also thoughtfully provided. I then promptly forget them.

Today I did quite a bit of mowing and pruning and cutting bindweed away from the begonias. I threw the clippings and cuttings on the compost heap, and in doing so I happened to pull up a weed that was growing out of the heap.

To my surprise I discovered that, indeed, all the grass I’ve been throwing on it in the past few years has turned to compost. I have never actually had any before anywhere.

Thus, I suppose I shall have to find something to do with the compost.

The trials of being brown-thumbed…

If you like creepy movies, this video will duly give you the creeps.

“I’m happy, I’m the best…”

…as HWMBO has commanded me to come up to bed, but the two further two-day gigs I had in Lancashire have now been cancelled. I know it wasn’t my teaching, as the evaluations were uniformly positive. I believe that the customer decided that they really didn’t want the training that we were providing. This means GBP 1600 has now flown out the window. I had to cancel two additional sets of train tickets, and will have to cancel two hotel rooms as well. What a pain. I just hope that the customer doesn’t try to pin the blame on me.

I am now in Lytham St Annes, having travelled up last night to do the first of three software testing courses for developers. It has been interesting, to say the least.

I got here on Virgin Trains and then a two car diesel from Preston, which would bring me to Blackpool South if I stayed on it. I may do so next week when I get here. This week I’ve been getting used to the place, finding restaurants, and generally relaxing. The course itself is now a doddle…just get into the room and turn on the autopilot. The delegates are a weird mix of developers, analysts, one mole (a software tester who has already gotten the certificate but who is there to present the tester’s point of view) and a couple of testers who are there because they missed the last course. As this is a truncated curriculum, I said that they’d better not try the exam without either further study or a full course.

Most of the delegates have been working at the customer’s site for more than 10 years, some as many as 35. And they say that “jobs for life” is no longer an option! One of the developers is one of those “Negative Nellies” who always says either that “We already tried that and it didn’t work” or “We’ve never tried that so it won’t work”. The class discussions have been sometimes quite heated. There is a general notion that quality is the job of the testers, rather than everyone’s job. I expect that as a result of these courses there will be some changes made to stress that quality is everyone’s job and the testers aren’t the ones who add it at the end.

The hotel (Blue Sands Hotel) is quite good, relatively modern inside WITH broadband access (which I didn’t know about last night). The breakfast was ample and they have a very cute dog whose picture I will try to post when I get back to London. I may cancel my other hotel reservations here and stay here again the next two weeks. It suits me.

The restaurant I ate at last night was an Italian restaurant downtown (if this tiny town can be said to have a downtown). The food was passable, as was the wine and the price. But nothing special. It was quite crowded.

Tonight, OTOH, I ate at a fabulous restaurant called Bistro Gerry (I give the name so that anyone who reads this and is in the area will go). I started out with a glass of house red. I tasted it, and thought “There’s something funny about this…” It was corked, and I got a glass of uncorked wine, no questions asked, which was much better. The owner/waitress was first-rate. Very chatty, and yet not obtrusive. The people up here are very nice, which is a change from metropolitan people, who often aren’t very nice (lots of exceptions to that rule). I ordered a steak, medium, and got a steak, medium. I also ordered a soup, Broccoli and Stilton, which was delectable. The steak was tender and flavourful (sorry to the vegetarians who read this journal…). Dessert was raspberry Pavlova, with caffe americano and something called “tablet” which seems to be Scottish fudge. I couldn’t eat more than one as it was so sweet. However, everything was cooked to perfection, the service was great, and even the background music made my toes tap (lots of 1960’s and 1970’s pop and rock songs, which brought me back to when I was young and needed no Viagra). I was still humming when I left. They got a 20% tip too, because the experience was so great.

Now I’m waiting to watch the second episode of “A Line of Beauty” on BBC2. I read the novel when in the hospital, but I have been commanded by HSMBO to watch tonight, so I’ll be dutiful and do so. Tomorrow back to the customer site for the second day of training and then back to the Elephant and my honey. I miss him.

I get my alumni newsletters mostly online now. A sad tale in the latest one:

A beloved Morningside Heights bar, The West End, has closed its doors and will reopen in July as a Cuban restaurant, Havana Central. Renovations will increase the restaurant