Max: Michael Manring - Helios

Jericho: Damned Dirty Apes!

This is how it begins! Then we get Charlton Heston running around in a loin cloth with a gun!!

Jericho: The diet is working, unfortunately.

On Monday we checked my weight. Yes, "we". Steph has to look at the numbers on the scale, I can't see over my huge stomach. Embarrassing? You bet! IWDC lives to embarrass its writers and entertain its readers ... with our shame.

I'm at 501. Not below 500 like I would like to be, but I hope to hit that minor goal next Monday. I'm sixteen pounds down so far - not shabby.

However, we're not about numbers these days. They are a good tool but not the end all be all. My leg edema is my most pressing, immediate concern. I was hoping my leg edema would show more progress than it has. Obviously from my last sentence, it hasn't.

More than all of this, I know the diet is working. How do I know? I've kicked the sugar cravings. Better, and worse, I now get reverse reactions to sugary foods. This morning, I went to the cafe' in my building for breakfast. The main dish was some kind of Dutch apple pie thingy smothered in sugar, sweet something, something something and they offered maple syrup as a topping. It smelled freeking wonderful! When I looked at it, I nearly gagged. My sense of sight is competing with my sense of smell for control of my body.

I just went to a departmental meeting. They had a cart of soda, I grabbed a diet coke. They also had four giant serving platters piled with my favorite: cookies!! Every kind a fat man could desire. Free. Just take one. Take many! I heaved an audible groan and took none. A friend in the room said they were meant to bring me joy. I told him they didn't bring me joy. They brought me remorse and regret, but no joy. Again, they looked like pure shit but smelled like the cleavage of an angel! I had to sit on the other side of the room, easily ten meters away just to avoid the smell, which both delighted and revolted me.

So, either the diet is working or I am developing a wildly bulimic second personality. At this point, I'll settle for either.

Max: I Still Can't Believe George Is Gone

The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, "You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done."

Max: It's That Shuttle Shaped Thing Over There

Max: Government Explained

Should Government Allow Children To Be Raised By Their Parents?

The spread of social-host laws [laws holding homeowners criminally liable for underage drinking in their houses] makes it harder to teach a European model here. True, it's unlikely that police are going to raid private homes when only parents and their kids are together. But social-host prosecutions can be quite aggressive; in 2002 a Virginia mom and stepfather were sentenced to eight years behind bars for serving their son and his friends for the boy's 16th birthday. The couple had collected car keys in advance, and no one was hurt. But after years of failed appeals, the mom and stepdad, now divorced, had to report to jail last year. (In the end, they had to serve only five months, not eight years.)

Most social-host laws give police expansive powers. According to data compiled by the Pacific Institute for Research and Evaluation, an organization based in Calverton, Md., that studies alcohol policy, only eight of 67 U.S. jurisdictions with social-host laws require that the homeowner have "actual knowledge" of underage drinking at the house to be charged with a crime. In other words, you can violate most social-host laws even if you are in another country when your kid decides to party. And under many social-host laws, a meal with wine served at a dinner table is treated no differently from a kegger if neighbors are present with their kids. In short, we are encouraging kids to leave their homes (presumably by car) and drink in parks or abandoned warehouses or anywhere else they think they won't get caught and their parents won't get arrested.

The answer to underage drinking? Take away parents' rights to determine if their children can have a glass of wine with dinner, or a beer while sitting on the porch with Mom and Dad. Break up families by sending parents to prison for exercising what most sane people consider to be a parent's right, nay duty, to educate their children about responsible drinking. Hold people legally liable for matters completely outside of their control.

Forget about people (children) dying due to the lack of health insurance. Forget about crumbling, dangerous schools. Forget that we are teaching an entire generation how to pass a standardized government test, rather than how to think, reason and learn. Forget about the shitty economy and the fact that we have no reasonable alternative to increasingly expensive energy sources purchased from people who will use our own money to fund attacks on us. Let's use the power of government to once again create a crisis where none exists and reduce the ever shrinking sphere of individual freedom.

Max: Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

Grammy-award winning comedian George Carlin, best known for his Seven Words You Can Never Say On TV routine, has died of heart failure aged 71.

Max: Unemployment Claims Center Closed

Via STLToday

The Missouri Department of Labor is closing down the St. Louis Regional Claims Center as of Aug. 31, resulting in the loss of 63 jobs.

St. Louis workers said they got layoff letters Friday morning notifying them that Aug. 31 would be their last day at work, unless they were offered a job at one of the three remaining regional call centers in Kansas City, Jefferson City and Springfield.

The call centers handle claims for unemployment benefits.

When asked where the 63 soon to be laid off claims center employees should go to claim unemployment benefits, a representative of the Missouri Department of Employment Security said, "Oh ... ummmmm ... well ... shit."

Max: Pretty

Max: Police Who Care Enough To Ignore The 4th Amendment

On CNN

Max: Your Brain Lies

Make sure your sound is up enough to hear clearly. Watch the video and note the nonsense syllables he is saying. Then play the video again with your eyes closed or while looking away from the screen. If you don't notice the difference, try again while paying closer attention. Then watch the video and try to hear what you heard while looking away.

Max: John Scalzi Fights Moron Marriage

Well, fine. Since apparently it’s the fashion to deny marriage status to people ... simply because we don’t like them and their marriages make us twitchy, by the power vested in me by whichever existential and ontological reality conveniently lets me get away with it, I hereby declare that marriages which include any of the following never ever existed:

Max: Toto - Africa

Max: Japanese Kink - Elder Porn

Via Time

Besides his glowing complexion, Shigeo Tokuda looks like any other 74-year-old man in Japan. Despite suffering a heart attack three years ago, the lifelong salaryman now feels healthier, and lives happily with his wife and a daughter in downtown Tokyo. He is, of course, more physically active than most retirees, but that's because he's kept his part-time job — as a porn star.

Jericho: Montage?

I could use a montage more than any white man in history!

I'm back on the diet. I'm trying to integrate the dieting with the exercising. I started last Monday. I was sick Tuesday and Wednesday (Typical!). So far I've gotten on the treadmill last Monday, Saturday and today. I'm gonna keep trying.

Last Monday I expected to weigh 520. I weighed 517 - close enough. My highest weight to date. Steph got me to get on the scale Friday, I weighed 505. No typo. Last night I got on the scale, I weighed 510. Either the scale is just wrong, my body has gone insane or some whacky, mind-crushing combination thereof.

I'm still aiming for 200 pounds overall. I'd like to see 400 by the end of this calendar year. But my immediate concern isn't weight loss. My immediate goal is to spend as much time as I and, more importantly, my knees, can stand on the treadmill. My doctor tells me that the edema on my ankles and feet will go down and eventually go away with more exercise. So, my immediate goal is to get rid of the edema - the less I look like Baron Harkonnen, the better!

Max: Al Caldwell's Lack Of Moderation

I don't know what this is, but I'm pretty sure it wants to eat me.

Max: Double Wide

The lot isn't great, but the view is awesome.

Max: Demon Spider Mecha From Hell

I like.

Max: Quote of the Weak

"They were traumatized, but we wanted them to be traumatized," said guidance counselor Lori Tauber.

Max: Purty Pikchures

Sky high and higher.

Max: I Never Get Invited To The Fun Parties

16,488 condoms ordered for Antarctic base

Intrepid souls braving the cold climes of Antarctica clearly find traditional ways of keeping warm.

McMurdo Station has taken delivery of 16,488 condoms. The shipment last month constitutes a year's supply, ensuring the frisky can stay safe in the sack.

Max: 100 Days, 100 Nights

Max: Bush Has Plans To Screw Us For Eternity

Revealed: Secret plan to keep Iraq under US control

A secret deal being negotiated in Baghdad would perpetuate the American military occupation of Iraq indefinitely, regardless of the outcome of the US presidential election in November.

The terms of the impending deal, details of which have been leaked to The Independent, are likely to have an explosive political effect in Iraq. Iraqi officials fear that the accord, under which US troops would occupy permanent bases, conduct military operations, arrest Iraqis and enjoy immunity from Iraqi law, will destabilise Iraq's position in the Middle East and lay the basis for unending conflict in their country.

But the accord also threatens to provoke a political crisis in the US. President Bush wants to push it through by the end of next month so he can declare a military victory and claim his 2003 invasion has been vindicated. But by perpetuating the US presence in Iraq, the long-term settlement would undercut pledges by the Democratic presidential nominee, Barack Obama, to withdraw US troops if he is elected president in November.

Shrub is a shaved head, a white cat and a volcano based lair away from being a fucking Bond villain.

Max: Things That Don't Suck

Fridays don't suck and not just because it is the last day before the weekend. Mon-Thurs, I work 12:00-20:30. Most people would hate that shift because it is so late. I hate it because it is so early. There have been periods of my life when I have been a morning person, but for the most part I am a creature of the night. Sometimes hauling my ass in here by noon takes some doing.

Friday is a different story. On Friday I work 15:30-00:00. On Friday, I can sleep until I wake up, hang around, play on the computer, read, watch TV and generally chill before diving into the working day. It also helps that we get almost no calls after 21:00.

This month is going to be a different story. A coworker who normally works 08:30-05:00 is taking a morning class through the end of June. As I am such a swell guy, I gave up my beloved Friday late shift for him, agreeing to actually get up at the Spaghetti Monster cursed hour of 06:30 to come in and work while that weird orange ball is still up in the sky. Although I volunteered for this torture, I was not looking forward to it.

Just now, I got a one day reprieve. Due to various circumstance, my boss wants me to work 14:00-22:30 on the 20th. My self imposed sentence was just reduced by a full 25%.

And that does not suck.

Max: Going to 11

Natty G interviews the greatest guitarist history has ever known.

Of course, History hasn't known that many guitarists. I mean, there have been a lot of guitarists, but History has only met a few personally. History had the chance to go see Hendrix in a small club in London, back when the Experience had just formed. History doesn't even remember what it did instead. But that's how it goes.

Max: It Doesn't Suck

I learned today that in 1983, a metre was redefined to 1/299,792,458 of the per second speed of light in a vacuum.

Max: Well This Is Just Peachy

The Science of Sarcasm (Not That You Care)

Max: Headline or Horror Movie Premise?

Zombie caterpillars controlled by voodoo wasp

Max: That Which Does Not Suck

I have a job.

I have a nice computer, running Linux (which is so much easier to use than Windows)

I have a wife who is willing to go on my thrilling emotional ride.

I have a friend who apparently would sell himself into slavery for me.

Theres more, but I am out of practice.

Max: Meh

I have been focusing on the negative in my recent posts. When I want to scream or curl up in the fetal position, it helps to write. Writing helps me organize my jumble of thoughts, to see when I am being irrational and gain some insight into the mess that is me. Instead of paying a therapist to listen to me, I just unload here for free.

This week, something that has been swirling through my thoughts for some time has worked its way to the front. I tend to blame outside persons/forces for problems/stress/frustrations that have no rational, external causes. Since then, when I find myself reaching the lower depths, I have been trying to remind myself that the worst of the problems are a result of malfunctions in my brain, not the person who happens to have the joy of interacting with me at the time it happens.

Reminding myself that the worst my problems are not rational or external in origin has helped me stop trying to to find irrational external solutions, such as spending money I don't have at Amazon.com and Borders. That said, going forward I need to not just focus on the irrational source of my emotional distress, but also on the external things in my life that are going right. Except for my defective brain, I have a pretty good life. Hopefully focusing on that will help as I work through my emotional fits.

Max: An Idea

Barack Obama has been the Democratic nominee for a few months now. Only Senator Clinton's delusions stretched this primary beyond the point of reason.

So, here's the deal. We know that cometh next January, President Obama will be taking office. So instead of playing a second round of the same stupid game, we tell Senator McCain to take a hike, send Shrub back to Crawford and swear President Obama in right now.

Max: Fuck

I was almost having a decent day. Then Laura thought her computer had died. It hadn't, but hearing her freak out didn't help my mood. Then I offered a little advice that just might help her avoid some computer trouble I had last year. At first she ignored it. Then she argued against it. Then she humored me by saying she would do it later. Suddenly I was back down in the emotional pit.

Immediately after, I got a call from the worst kind of user. She demanded I fix her problem now. I guess she was afraid her issue was such a delight to consider that there was danger that I might take my time and savor it. As I worked on her problem, she helped out immensely by pointing out that she was certain every single thing I was doing was wrong and a complete waste of her precious time.

And so, two minor incidents that any sane person would forget about quickly are now eating away at me, insuring that the rest of my day will be crap.

It's fun being a lunatic.

Max: A Kvetching Observed

I've got no one to blame but my fat self
--They Might Be Giants

I have no rational reason to be miserable. There is nothing outside of myself that I could change to make myself happy. I used to fool myself that all I needed was a new job, more money, more books, a fancy custom bass or whatever and I would finally be happy.

But none of those are my real problem. Instead, chemicals in my head are zigging when they should zag. So despite a decent, easy, well paying job where I am treated with more respect than I ever expected; I am miserable. Kevin Smith could call me tomorrow and make me his new project, teaching me the ins and outs of film making while giving me fun, freaky character roles in his movies and I would still be miserable. If I had actually spent my teens and twenties building a career as a full time writer, right now I would be miserable. If I won the lottery, in the end I would be miserable. I have three rather nice basses that I hardly ever play. If I had twenty high-end custom basses, I would have twenty high-end custom basses I hardly ever play.

What I fear more than anything is that I will never escape this, that I will never get my brain to function right. I take five pills every day to keep the worst of it at bay, but I am still miserable. I am by no means suicidal. But when I think that I could well spend the next 30-40 years like I am now, I just want to go back to bed and cry for a few years.

Anyway, I need to go to a decent job -- one better than I dared hope for -- and hate it and myself for 8.5 hours.

Max: Useless, Pathetic Self Pity

It seems like all I do is work, go home to find out how much money I don't have and how much life I can't afford to enjoy, then go to work again.

Is that really what life is? Is this what I have spent the last nearly 37 years to achieve?

What do I have to look forward to? Another 40 years of struggle, stress, depression, sexual dysfunction and staring at the beige walls of my cubicle?

That and turning into an even bigger dick than I apparently have already become.

EDIT

Ah, yes. I forgot about the thrill of idiots costing me what little money I have and then making it my problem to get it back...

Max: The Lord's Day

Today's sermon: