Headlines

Don't blame me. Blame Doug.

Seattle Gay Bars Receive Ricin Threats

From the Seattle Times:

Several Seattle bar owners who received anonymous letters threatening to poison customers with highly toxic ricin called the matter creepy but doubted it would hurt business.
....

The letters, received by many of the bar owners on Tuesday, claimed, "I have in my possession approximately 67 grams of ricin with which I will indiscriminately target at least five of your clients."

Ricin, a chemical found in castor beans, can be deadly if purified and ingested or inhaled.

Here's the letter.

 

Let us pray that this is only a threat and that there be no attempt to carry it out. Law enforcement authorities are taking the threat seriously, and the FBI is involved, too.

Thanks to Dennis.

No Sex Since 1955

A crusty old Marine Sergeant Major found himself at a gala event hosted by a local liberal arts college. There was no shortage of extremely young idealistic ladies in attendance, one of whom approached the Sergeant Major for conversation.

"Excuse me, Sergeant Major, but you seem to be a very serious man. Is something bothering you?"

"Negative, ma'am. Just serious by nature."

The young lady looked at his awards and decorations and said, "It looks like you have seen a lot of action."

"Yes, ma'am, a lot of action."

The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation, said, "You know, you should lighten up a little. Relax and enjoy yourself."

The Sergeant Major just stared at her in his serious manner. Finally the young lady said, "You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but when is the last time you had sex?"

"1955, ma'am."

"Well, there you are. No wonder you're so serious. You really need to chill out! I mean, no sex since 1955! She took his hand and led him to a private room where she proceeded to "relax" him several times.

Afterwards, panting for breath, she leaned against his bare chest and said, "Wow, you sure didn't forget much since 1955."

The Sergeant Major said in his serious voice, after glancing at his watch, "I hope not; it's only 2130 now."

Don't blame me. Blame the wicked David. He made me do it.

New Orleans Carnival Season Begins

From Yat.com:

The Feast of the Epiphany is a day of closure for most Christians in the United States. It's traditionally the day when the visit to the Christ Child by the Three Wise Men is celebrated, marking the end of the Christmas season. The tree and decorations come down, and household life returns to a more normal routine, as the kids go back to school until Easter break.

The scenario is a little bit different in New Orleans. While the rest of the country is breathing a collective sigh of relief that the holidays are over, New Orleanians are just getting their second wind to begin The Big Party -- Carnival. It all begins on Twelfth Night, January 6th, with the bal masque of the Twelfth Night Revelers, and the Uptown streetcar ride of the Phunny Phorty Phellows.

The Twelfth Night Revelers have held the official kick-off to the Carnival season since January 6, 1870. Theirs is not the traditional tableau-style ball held by other krewes. The members of the krewe mask, but the centerpiece of the celebration is the the ladies of the court are selected. A giant king cake is rolled out onto the floor of the ballroom, and the ladies selected to be maids of the court all gather round. Each is given a piece of the cake, and those pieces contain one gold and several silver beans. The young lady who receives the gold bean is named the queen, and the others become the maids of the court. The cake originally was a traditional king cake, but the logistics of making sure that the right lady was chosen queen prompted the krewe to switch to a wooden replica what looks more like a classic wedding cake.

In New Orleans and south Louisiana, king cakes are omnipresent in homes, in offices, at churches during the coffee hour, everywhere. The usual tradition in offices is that someone volunteers to supply the first king cake, and thereafter, the person who gets the tiny plastic baby in their piece of cake is responsible for the cake in a week's time.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Thanks Be To God!

From the New York Times:

Israel says it has agreed to set up a ''humanitarian corridor'' to ship vital supplies to the people of the Gaza Strip.

The office of Prime Minister Ehud Olmert says in a statement that the humanitarian corridor idea came from the U.N. Security Council, and he accepted it.

The Israeli leaders say there is no humanitarian crisis, but the UN workers in Gaza disagree. Well, it's a beginning. Let's hope and pray that this first step leads to further reductions in violent actions.

H/T to Ann.

UPDATE: A longer and more detailed article from the New York Times is here.

Grandmas Don't Know Everything

He'd been playing outside with the other kids for a while when he came into the house and asked her, 'Grandma, what's that thing called when two people sleep in the same room and one is on top of the other?'

She was a little taken aback, but she decided to just tell him the truth. 'It's called sexual intercourse, darling.'

Little Tony just said, 'Oh, OK,' and went back outside to play with the other kids.

A few minutes later he came back in and said angrily, 'Grandma, it isn't called sexual intercourse. It's called Bunk Beds. And Jimmy's mom wants to talk to you.'

From my new stringer, Paul the BB.

Thibodaux Rocker, Mary Lasseigne

From the Daily Comet:

Some musicians fret about divulging certain details, worrying the information could damage their cool veneer.

But rocker Mary Lasseigne is undaunted. She tells her age, recounts her rough times and explains her scars. The decades, and maybe the scars, too, were necessary to create the musician audiences see today.

Lasseigne is a 44-year-old Thibodaux rocker who’s reconnecting with her groove.

Lasseigne calls music “my biggest counselor, my biggest consoler.”

New Orleans-area crowds know Lasseigne as Mary LaSang, bassist for the now-defunct grunge band Isaac’s Guns, the nationally known Cowboy Mouth and now for her own act, The Kinky Tuscaderos.

My friend, Georgianne, who sometimes writes for The Huffington Post, introduced me to Mary. We went out to supper together, and I assure you that when we went out to eat, Mary looked a lot more sedate than she does in the picture. But then, she didn't have her electric bass with her, and she played no music. We had a lovely dinner, and I liked Mary quite a lot.

Mary lost both her parents within a short period of time, and those losses were soon followed by Katrina, which resulted in Mary's having to leave her beloved New Orleans and move to Houston for a spell.

Her parents’ deaths, within months of each other in 2004, rendered even music too painful. Music’s strong association with her parents, who nurtured her musical talents, compelled Lasseigne to avoid playing even as a pastime.

“I just was so numb, and I wasn’t in touch with it,” she said. “I didn’t do anything. I just tried to get up every day.”

Then came Katrina.

Lasseigne, who had been living and working in New Orleans since age 20, saw her city ravaged.

“I really love New Orleans. It’s unique, and you can’t find it anywhere else,” she said. “That punched me in the face.”

My goal is to hear Mary play music. She plays mostly in New Orleans, so it should be easy, right? The thing is that I can't find anyone to go with me at night, and I'm timid about going alone.

Laura McKnight, the reporter who gave me my 15 minutes of local fame, wrote the article about Mary, too. Laura is a fine young interviewer and writer. She establishes good rapport with her subjects and then proceeds to get it right when she writes.

For information on Lasseigne, visit www.myspace.com/marylasang.

My Hair Is Too Long And Too Wild

Today, I went at the wrong time for my appointment to get my hair cut. The appointment was at 11:30 AM, but I went at 1:30 PM. I wrote the time on my pad on the regrigerator, but that seems not enough, because I didn't look at the pad. I forgot a previous appointment in the week before Christmas. That was a wild week, and I forgot to write the time of the appointment on the pad.

After today, I was beginning to worry about myself. Am I getting senile? In addition, I'm usually running late when I keep the appointments - altogether an unsatisfactory customer. Will my hairdresser ban me for missing so many appointments?

I had to do a little shopping, and the wind is blowing hard today, so I really looked as wild and crazy as I felt, with my out-of-control hair blowing in the wind, like Phyllis Diller at her worst, if you're old enough to remember that. I began to think about what distracted me from my appointment today, and I realized that I am furious that our ambassador to the UN cast the only "no" vote to a resolution asking for a cease-fire in Gaza. Not a settlement, not an armistice, but a cease-fire to get humanitarian aid into Gaza. I want the killing and maiming to stop, at least for a while.

Lord, have mercy.

Feast of the Epiphany

 

I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. People will bring into it the glory and the honour of the nations. But nothing unclean will enter it, nor anyone who practises abomination or falsehood, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life.

(Revelation 21:22-27)

Above is a picture of the Nativity set which my mother made with the Three Wise Men and the camels added to the tableau. I haven't displayed the camels for several years now, taking the lazy way out, but I unwrapped them this year for the picture.

The Hormone Guide

Women will understand this!

Men should memorize it!

Every woman knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, co-worker or significant other!

13 Things PMS Stands For:

1. Pass My Shotgun

2. Psychotic Mood Shift

3. Perpetual Munching Spree

4. Puffy Mid-Section

5. People Make me Sick

6. Provide Me with Sweets

7. Pardon My Sobbing

8. Pimples May Surface

9. Pass My Sweat pants

10. Pissy Mood Syndrome

11. Plainly; Men Suck

12. Pack My Stuff

and my favorite one:

13. Potential Murder Suspect



Don't blame me. Blame Doug. Besides I'm long past all this. Mine is a perpetually sunny disposition.

UPDATE: Menopausal Women At The Mall

There's a message for us all in the video. Watch for it.



H/T to Ann.