The Hang

I stumbled upon a video of Dante Bucci playing a Hang. I've never seen these things before, which makes a bit of sense since they were invented only seven years ago.

I'm completely mesmerized, and I must own one. That seems to create a problem, as only 5000 or so currently exist, and they're all handmade in Switzerland. I found two in eBays past, with winning bids of £3,850.00 and £4,197.97. My only recourse may be to try and build one myself.

Hear more at the HangBox from Hang-Music.com.

Write Your Congressperson (I Did)

The ill-named Protect America Act passed the U.S. House of Representatives with 227 yeas to 183 nays. You've probably heard of this bill, though named something more appropriate like The Warantless Wiretapping Act.

This preposterous law allows President Bush to legally continue doing what he was illegally doing previously: spy on his country's own citizens without the hassle of getting a court order, and without the bother of judicial oversight. It's clear that checks and balances just don't work for this administration.

More importantly, perhaps, is the incredulous idea that 41 democrats voted for this preposterous law. These are the same democrats who hold a majority in the House; the same democrats who gained that majority because the populous had it up to here with President Bush. To thank us for voting their party in, they hand Bush a silver platter, adorned not just with the victory of more control over the citizens of the United States, but also vindicating his previous illegal actions, essentially clearing him of any wrongdoing.

I wish I could channel my lividity into something more concrete. Instead, all I manged was a letter to my congressman:

I'm writing to express my extreme disapproval of your vote in role call 836 for the "Protect America Act." Frankly, this bill does nothing to "protect America." It does, however, require your constituents to hand in yet more civil liberties. It also hands more authority to the power-hungry executive branch, which gives you, yourself (and thereby the people you represent), less license over their own decisions.

I understand that you voted with your party, but you would have been in better company with Representatives Johnson and Jones, the two republicans who voted against this abominable bill.

Sincerely,

Josh Prud'homme
A politically conscious, voting member of Indiana's fourth district.

You can write your congressperson here, and see how he or she voted here.

Guns for Peace

According to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, selling arms in the Gulf will help counter terrorism and "bolster forces of moderation." No, really. I'm not even making this up. Look at this:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12349890

Now I'm not one of those pro-gun-regulation liberals. In fact, it's one of the big areas where I disagree with the "blanket liberal agenda." I believe I should be able to buy, own, and carry a gun if I damn well please. Sure, the government may be the arm of my protection, but what if we need to protect ourselves from our government? But I digress.

My government is trying to tell me (and the rest of the world) that handing out guns, depression-era soup-line style, to a bunch of war-tired countries that don't agree on very much, is going to bring peace in the Middle East. I really can't think of one instance where pointing weapons at an enemy has lead to peaceful co-existence.

The new sales to Arab countries, notably Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states, will be balanced with a more than 25 percent increase in military aid to Israel over the next 10 years. This will enable the Jewish state to keep its qualitative military edge over neighbors with which it has no peace deal.

It sounds to me like our plan is to let them kill each other until no one is left. I suppose that's one way to maintain a superpower. And it's not as though weapon sales have ever come back to haunt us.

It must take a bureaucracy the size of the United States government to create a plan so complicated that giving away guns will produce peace.

“A mighty oak has fallen in God's forest.”

“If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.” --Jerry Falwell (August 11, 1933 - May 15, 2007)

From CNN.com:

Falwell has found himself at the center of several controversies, such as the one sparked by his comments two days after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks in which he seemed to blame "abortionists," gays, lesbians, the ACLU and People for American Way for causing the attacks, saying they "helped this happen."

I Am a Google Whore

I use a lot of Google software. I'm most entrenched in my personalized homepage (I think they're calling it iGoogle these days). But I use that page largely to wrangle a mass of other Google services, like Google Reader and Google Calendar.

I was setting up AdWords for my recording business recently when I stumbled upon this list in my account settings page:

I mean, seriously. Ok, so I haven't touched orkut in probably three years, and I've only played with Docs and Spreadsheets once. But on top of that list, I use Picasa as my primary image organizer, I've got Google Desktop installed at work, and Google Earth is one nifty toy.

I'm livin' la Vida Google.

From the Italian, "Pestare"

I made pesto for the first time last night. Considering how much I like to cook, it seems odd that I've always acquired my pesto from a jar. I blame the lack of affordable fresh basil in this town.

However, the other day I acquired an entire hydroponically-grown basil plant for a mere $2.99. It was a cute little thing, dirtless roots still clinging at the base. I dropped it in a jar full of water and pulled off a few leaves for pizza topping. I expected the plant to last for a couple of weeks while I stole greenery from it here and there. Instead I attacked it, plucking off the remainder of its deliciousness in one fell swoop!

I plunked the fist full of foliage in the food processor with a clove of garlic, a nice pinch of kosher salt, a few pine nuts, and a couple chunks of aged Parmesan. I drizzled in a little olive oil while the blades whirred, and ended up with a perfectly aromatic sauce. I dumped the pesto on a bowl of bowtie, added some sun-dried tomatoes, and tossed.

Delectable! The flavor was exquisitely balanced with the tomatoes. The color was wonderfully bright green; it looked as fresh as it tasted. What was I thinking all those years? I can tell you right now I'll never buy canned pesto again.

Alongside the pasta, I served up a little carrot and currant salad (with a light yogurt-and-honey-based dressing), a bit of lemon-buttered asparagus, and paired it with a tasty Zinfandel.

Next time I plan to go the more traditional mortar and pestle route. I suspect crushing the leaves will lead to a stronger flavor and creamier texture. Besides, "pestare" means to pound or crush.

I think we should all start food blogs.

Mission: Sofa

Upon rearranging the living room furniture this weekend, we discovered that our living room is too small. That is, we rediscovered it. Our tiny space was packed with a couch, loveseat, giant chair, piano, and no fewer than five other pieces.

We shoved furniture to and fro, stacking tables in corners and covering vents with chairs. Eventually, after throwing up my hands in frustration, I came to the conclusion that the room is not too small, we simply have too much furniture. So we threw out the couch.

Well, we didn't exactly throw it out; we chucked it in the carport, grabbed a cushion, and headed to the used furniture store. After mulling the used furniture options (and liking none of them), we wandered the new furniture section, where we proceeded to fall in love with the following:

(No worries. It's not leather.)

Thus began Mission: Sofa. Here's the deal: Long's Landing committed to giving us $200 trade-in credit for our current three piece set. That still leaves us $900 short of owning the couch of our dreams. This being move-out week in Bloomington, we're planning to collect enough furniture from sidewalks and dumpsters to fund this two-toned leisure center.

If anyone has a couch to donate to the cause, let me know.

Collecting Vinyl

Sunflower, in collaboration with her father, got me a record player yesterday. I think it's because at some point I said, "You know, it's a good thing I don't have a record player, because I'd have to spend all my money collecting indie records." And I'm pretty sure I said that because I took an online quiz several months back.

I am an indie snob!



How indie are you? test by ridethefader

You're just too cool for school, aren't you? You're pretty narrow minded
and opinionated with regards to music (and probably most other things
as well). But you're allowed to be, because you really are better
than everyone else. You take pride in obscurity.
You probably prefer vinyl too, you elitist bitch.


I don't think of myself as narrow minded re: music, but I'm probably not the best judge. I certainly have no problem being an elitist bitch, though.

And now the vinyl collection begins. Several records have already been donated to the cause, notably the classic rockings of The Who, Warren Zevon, and Neil Young. Sunflower also got the indie stone rolling with a few of my favorites: The Crane Wife by The Decemberists, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning by Bright Eyes, and The Postal Service's Give Up.

(By the way, someone tell the cocks at the RIAA that downloading these albums has directly resulted in real-money purchases of them.)

I recall a couple of J's friends (Teeny and Josh, I think) picking out some choice grooves at a place on Hawthorne. Does anyone else out there in the webosphere still buy vinyl?

Meet Meringue

As in Lemon. After many an discussion of sinking $700 into a $500 car, we decided it would be best to simply drive around and look for cheap used cars in parking lots. That plan worked better than I would have thought.

For $200, we picked up this beast. The brakes need work, there's no coolant, the fender is... not straight. But she's got six cylinders under the hood, half a tank of gas (hey, that's 20 bucks right there!), and she starts right up. The cavernous trunk even included a spare tire and a tiny broom. For tiny witches.

I'm pretty sure my parents have never bought a new car in their lives. Consequently, neither have I. The Cavalier, the BMW, the Saab, the Cabriolet, the Westfalia: all used. Maybe it's because new cars start at around $12,000, solidly twice what I've paid for my most expensive automobile. I suspect, though, it's because taking a several thousand dollar hit in value just for rolling it off the lot doesn't mesh with my old-man sensibilities. (Why eat mashed potatoes at the buffet? They're only 30 cents a pound.) Then again, I sold my last car for 13% of what I paid. That was the real lemon.

Oh, Bloody Hail

It hailed today. It was a very strange day for weather. It was mostly dark and rainy all day. When I got home, it was warm and the sun was peeking through some clouds. Not twenty minutes later, the hailstorm moved in abruptly, dumped frozen balls of water for three minutes, and was gone. Now, blue skies cover most of the view.

I've never stood in a hailstorm before. Well, before today. In the interest of science, I stepped into the yard and took the brunt of the storm on my head. My suggestion: don't do that. Instead, follow the instructions of pamphlets everywhere and seek shelter immediately.

Cube Farm

I'm moving into my new "office" today. I use quotations because my "office" has only two walls. It's a cubicle in disguise. Sure it's got natural light through the window behind me, but you can't actually see out. The window is a tease, taunting me with sweet warming rays, but remaining opaque enough to deprive me of listlessly staring at the world.

I've got two desks, and my back to the corner so I can see ninjas approach. I've got two monitors (for those of you keeping score at home, that's one fewer than I had before.) I've got 36 square feet of space. But that's about a third of my previous stretch-out room. I mean, I can't even park my bike.

Funny, I remember all this happening before. A great case of deja vu. The year was 2002, the scene: Kiva Networking. (Cue flashback.) As part of a round of cutbacks, my office slipped away, and in its place came four foot high gray slabs of cloth paneling. New neighbors, more noise, less money. I don't foresee the same bad-movie ending, but then again, those who don't understand history are doomed to repeat it. Just ask the president...

Pictures of Ireland

I've posted pictures of my and Sunflower's trip to Ireland in February. You can find them here, or visit my Picasa Web Albums page and click on Ireland 2007: http://picasaweb.google.com/wetdog.














Some of the premium shots will find their way onto PlanetWetDog soon, too.

Remedial Gardening

I am apparently a "weekend warrior." I hate that term. I hate it for the same reason I hate having a bluetooth headset: it makes me feel like a tool. But I do own a wireless, ear-dangling device, and I do enjoy wearing myself out on the weekends doing home improvement projects.

This weekend saw my first endeavor into gardening. (Well, nearly. I managed to kill a few jalapeño plants a couple years back.) Not only did it involve trips to greenhouses, home improvement warehouses, Wal-Mart, and Sunflower's mother's house, there were such activities as rock-carrying, wheelbarrow-pushing, and dirt-sorting.

Now I don't foresee gardening becoming my primary source of entertainment, but I can certainly see why people find it enjoyable. You get to be outside with the sun on your back, turning you into a literal red-neck. You roll around and play in the dirt, and nobody tells you that you can't. Tools are involved. And when you're done, you have beautiful flowers everywhere.

Wait a minute. No you don't. When you're done you have a bed of black dirt, forty square feet surrounded by a couple rows of stone. But it will become beautiful flowers, eventually. In our case, it will become a variety of 19 different perennials, carefully selected for us by a plant company that puts seeds in an overgrown pepper shaker.

The biggest lesson learned in 101: Intro to Gardening? Despite being called annuals, they don't come back every year. You have to plant them again next year.

First Post!

If only I had a mod point to mod myself down for this.