perfidy

I took Johno's test:

Official Survivor
Congratulations! You scored 75%!

Whether through ferocity or quickness, you made it out. You made the right choice most of the time, but you probably screwed up somewhere. Nobody's perfect, at least you're alive.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on survivalpoints

Link: The Zombie Scenario Survivor Test written by ci8db4uok on Ok Cupid

My raw score was 75, compared to Johno's 73. Those two extra points made a big difference on the curve, I guess. Or, my zombie killing skills are just that obvious.

The funny thing is that I actually think about this stuff. Whenever I watch a zombie movie, or a horror movie, or even most action adventure flicks, it triggers a long process where I internally analyze the situation and what I would do. The more interesting the plot, the longer it takes. In my mental file cabinets, I have contingency plans for zombies, vampires, werewolves, terrorist attacks, being thrown back in time (several ways, and to different time periods), burglars, nuclear war, technology no longer working (thanks to a couple sf novels), everyone disappearing, pods taking over people's brains, soviet invasions, alien invasions (3), and for capturing a UFO should I be abducted.

Don't tell my wife, but I often buy things for my general purpose emergency kit based on the above scenarios. I justify the purchases for other reasons, but I know what they're for.

Wife: "Why do you need a shotgun?"
Me: "For the zombies."
Wife: "Why do you need four hundred rounds of ammunition?"
Me: "When the zombies come, there'll be lots of them."

You can see why that conversation is untenable. It went more like this:

Wife: "Why do you need a shotgun?"
Me: "For home defense, and I like shooting."
Wife: "Why do you need four hundred rounds of ammunition?"
Me: "It was on sale."

I convinced her to let me buy a couple cases of MREs on the argument that FEMA recommends that every family should have a disaster preparedness kit. Only really, it's a zombie emergency survival kit. Camping is a fun thing to do on the weekend. But camping gear always is handy in Zombie situations, too.

And I never travel without my aluminum baseball bat.

And no, I'm not crazy. I just have a finely developed sense of imagination and wonder. And don't tell my wife. It will make further additions to the survival kit more difficult. 

As loyal readers know, my lovely wife Mrs. Buckethead is in a band. Dead Men's Hollow plays what they like to call 'Acoustic Americana,' a blend of bluegrass, old school country, blues and gospel. Yesterday, the little brown Santa, UPS, delivered several hundred pounds worth of their debut, full-length CD. It's called Forever True:

So, in honor of this momentous occasion in the history of music, here are some links:

• The Band's webpage.
• A really good song.
• Their schedule.

DMH has come up in the world quite a bit over the last year or so. Despite losing half the band at one point, a psycho significant other (she actually said, "I'm not trying to be Yoko Ono") and the Bob the base player feeding his hand into a wood splitter, they have persevered. The vocal harmonies are tighter, sweeter and better than ever. And now the hard work is paying off - they're getting good reviews, playing bigger venues, and generally kicking ass. At first, in the early days, I have to admit that I went to the shows because it was my wife's band. But I have to say that even were she not my wife, right now I'd still really dig this music. Check it out.
 

A new government report says that the net worth of American households jumped $2 trillion over the last quarter to $48.53 trillion. That means that if Ross had his way, every single person in the US would have $150,000 and then the economy would immediately collapse.

Last night, I saw President Bush on the toob calling for drilling in ANWR. For all those who are opposed to this heinous despoilation of mother Gaia, some perspective:

The Alaskan National Wildlife Refuge is an area the size of South Carolina. The proposed drilling area is about 2000 acres, about the size of a major metropolitan airport like, say, Dulles.

It isn't going to ruin the nature. And when Iran flips out and starts sinking oil tankers going through the straits of Hormuz, having that supply of oil might be a good thing.

Cat shoots owner. If the cat had been a better shot, no doubt its intention was to eat the owner after shooting him.

Sure it's great that we have International Womyn's Day; certainly it's amusing that in its frenzied attempt to be PC, IKEA has twisted its panties all in a bunch. But here is one for the guys: International Steak and BJ Day. The name says it all.

Here, offered without comment, are some of the names on the spam emails I have recently received:

Stench T. Franchiser
Haiti L. Disgruntles
Tinning J. Whews
Curviest V. Extempores
Decrescendo A. Twirler
Post T. Menopause
Kindling K. Nark
Other G. Militating
Heinous S. Armory
Slattern J. Yellows
Organ I. Offal
Tinier V. Bucksaw
Nymphomania O. Augusts
Pumps K. Dredger
Siam H. Stretchy
Curfew L. Lifework
Cybernetics L. Appallingly
Intolerant V. Shack
Roadrunner J. Derivations
Implosion P. Matterhorn
Clownishness I. Serenity
Chaperones G. Readjusting
Cochran J. Cardsharps
Grandiloquence L. Bloodstained
Eyewitness H. Bunsen
Cranium T. Capabilities
Paroxysm P. Soy
Milliner I. Pliable
Ecliptic F. Prejudice
Granules S. Gallic
Hornblower Q. Cadging
Tapering P. Waterbury
Renting O. Eratosthenes
Emotionally H. Pram
Solon O. Disassembling
Southerner M. Blameworthy
Major D. Unfurls
Nubian O. Socket
Mormon P. Hedgerow
Jane J. Vulgarity

[wik]And this just in, two more:

Spastic I. Bogeymen
Fibrous G. Rumpus

The French have committed to providing exactly 1 (one) officer to the NATO effort to train Iraqi soldiers and law enforcement personnel. In a measuer of France's deep interest in supporting democracy in Iraq, this officer will travel to the wilds of southern Belgium to participate in the training.

French protestors uncomfortable with even this tepid support for US policy can be expected to be waving signs demanding, "Bring home our troop!" any time now.

Hunter S. Thompson died yesterday of a bullet through the head. Gonzo journalism is dead, because nobody, nobody did it like Hunter. It's a damn shame, if for no other reason than that I would have loved to play shotgun golf.

Do you have what it takes to be an experimental subject? Well, if you think you've got the moxie, go here, where the new Perfidy website is brewing. The last few posts have been moved over, so make comments, click on things, and generally screw around. Be aware, some things are not working. But if you have the time and the kindness of heart, send us an email and let us know what needs a beatin'. As always suggestions are welcome. They make the masses feel better about their suffering.

The Ministry thanks you for your cooperation.

[wik] Once all the tweaks and fixes have been implemented, we'll make an official announcement, and everything will move over to the new site. The address will be the same, so there shouldn't be much confusion for you, the reader. The old site will just disappear in a puff of logic.

Go watch this video instantly.

Begging to Differ was among the first to recognize our genius and link us. Their long and faithful support (through several cast changes) has been one of the nicest things about running a blog. We are often remiss in linking the fine writers over at BTD, but this occasion deserves recognition.

BTD has undergone a radical site redesign. Well, it's still a webpage; but the look is much different, and in this reader's opinion, a tremendous improvement. (Not that the old look was bad, mind you.) In addition, and as an added bonus, they went and added a forum. Now you can go over and whine and complain not just about their posts, but about whatever flits through your silly head.

So go over and talk to Steve and Greg and the gang, and fill up their forum with all the pent up blather you have been unable to release since our comments are turned off. But don't stay too long, because the Perfidy redesign and upgrade is well underway, and will be operational by week's end.

It occurred to me the other day that there are a few actors who have a reputation for glorious creepiness on the silver screen. What would happen if someone came up with a vehicle to combine their exquisite creepiness into one divine orgy of creep?

I'm thinking Christopher Walken, John Malkovich, and Willem Dafoe as the lead creepsters, with Crispin Glover as their loyal journeyman creep. Michael Madsen could be an applying for a position on the team, and Jon Lovitz could provide the comic relief. Angelina Jolie and Glenn Close could be the distaff creeps.

Plot wouldn't matter all that much. Just let them improvise. The end result would leave you feeling dirty and greasy for months after seeing the film.

When he wasn't looking, I snapped this picture of my son John:

Hopefully, when the giant space robots take over, my quisling son will have enough pull to keep me out of the camps. Click for a closeup:

***Must Credit Dr. Rusty Shackleford*** Rusty asked me (and others, I hope) to guest blog on the Jawa Report (formerly hot lesbo star wars chick pundit) in his absence. I threw a little something up over there, so check it out. I will endeavor to increase the volume of posting both here, and there.

Also, if Minister Ross will actually send the software for expression engine to me, the site migration will go much faster. Infinitely faster, in fact.

For centuries, before gunpowder dominated the battlefield, the trebuchet was the most powerful siege weapon known to man. Essentially, the trebuchet is a gigantic seesaw. A 250 pound rock projectile sits on one end, and on the other, an immense counterweight. The longer, missile end of the trebuchet is winched down; and just like when you were sitting on the seesaw and the fat kid jumped on the other end, when it is released, the counterweight flips the missile hundreds of yards to (hopefully) hit the target.

A group of enterprising engineering geeks have endeavored to create a trebuchet simulator. With this nifty timewaster, you can adjust the mass of the projectile and the counterweight; and change the launch angle, counterweight height, wind and even gravity. Test your engineering and medieval geekiness against the distance, power and accuracy challenges.

I had the opportunity to play with a very small but nevertheless very real trebuchet a while back, and this is almost as fun. Though it doesn't throw watermelons or footballs. Thanks to A Voyage to Arcturus for the link.

Click here.

Science for the everyman. Confronted about their methodology, these daring (not to say reckless) scientists had this to say:

Um, why didn't you guys do the test double-blind? Scienticians often are forced to take short-cuts to make giant king sized leaps of advancement in the field of boozahology. You'll also notice that the crackers weren't sterile, the glasses were barely clean, and there was a conspicuous lack of any saftey gear. 

Sometimes, you just have to stare down the barrel of progress and hope there's not one sitting in the chamber.

Hat tip: mapgirl.

Our closest allies in the animal kingdom, the dolphins, were recently reported as having taken decisive action last month to protect a group of human tourists from the scourge of shark terrorism. Four New Zealanders swimming in the ocean near Whangarei on New Zealand's North Island when a pod of dolphins suddenly pushed the four swimmers together and began circling them.

At first the New Zealanders were concerned at this action, feeling perhaps that overzealous dolphin border police were concerned at some passport violation. But then swimmer Rob Howes saw the angry fin of a three meter long fundamentalist Great White terrorist shark, and understood the reason for the dolphins’ behavior.

"They had corralled us up to protect us," he said.

The dolphin counter-terror force circled the swimmers for another forty minutes before declaring the area secure and allowing the swimmers to return to shore. Dolphin sources report that an average of seven to ten humans are killed each year by shark terrorists. They urge caution when visiting the oceans because, “The oceans cover three fourths of the globe, and there are only so many dolphins. While we’ve had notable successes in curbing shark terrorist activity, the ocean remains a breeding ground for shark extremism.” A dolphin spokesman at their embassy at Sea world endorsed this webpage giving helpful tips to avoid becoming the victim of shark extremist violence.

While some have accused the dolphins of pursuing a imperialist policy in regard to counter-terror actions in shark national homelands, it is clear that the sacrifice of brave dolphins in the DDF and Dolphin constabulary are the reason that there are so few shark attacks on humans. Some dolphin supporters even believe that without the strong arm tactics of our dolphin allies, we would be facing the scourge of shark terrorism in the streets of our cities and towns.

Despite the shrill attacks of those who accuse the dolphins of being frontmen for human imperialism in the oceans, or the obstructionism of our so-called allies the orcas; we owe a debt of gratitude to our finned allies, for holding the line against fundamentalist terror in the oceans.

Does anybody know how well one could live on a salary of say, 75,000 euro in Dublin?