L o b a B l a n c a {dot} c o m

Brace yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. I do believe the apocalypse is now in full swing. Sarah Palin has joined Faux News.

My respect for mainstream journalism in this country wanes steadily every passing day. I suppose Fox will tout the fact that Palin, in addition to having “knowledge” about “politics,” also has a “degree” in “journalism.”

I have a degree in “English.” That doesn’t make me the fucking queen.

You know what though? This is a perfect match-up. We live in a country in which utterly insipid things are considered newsworthy (and I think Palin definitely fits into the “utterly insipid” category along with all the other media-whoring piffle). The one radio station dedicated to local news sent me a “breaking news” update this weekend to inform me that Jay Leno’s primetime show was being canceled. It’s all about celebrity and celebreality in this country. So any wonder the beauty queen would get signed to Fox? They need some way to compete with the cheerleader over at the CBS news desk…although a little warning: The cheerleader drew blood the last time she met the beauty queen. You might want to keep them separated.

Back at work for the first time of the new decade. W00t is in order, I suppose. It’s always so very difficult to get back into the work mindset after the holidays. It seems particularly difficult this year, what with the snow breaks and all. I knew, when we got 2 feet of snow before winter even started, that we were in for it but good this year. Snow flurries are expected tonight, and oh but it’s hella cold. Still in the upper 20s with an expected high of 32. These would be lovely temperatures if I was in England. Being in the States, however, I’m none too keen on them. I’d like to regain feeling in my toes at some point today.

It could be worse, I know. I heard on the news this morning that somewhere at the very tippy-toppy of Minnesota hit -33 degrees. I tried to process that information, but I think I pulled a muscle.

So, what’s the point of this post? I suppose to give a preview of things I’ve been thinking about doing here at the lair. I’m not calling them resolutions. I think those are silly. These are just things that I’d like to tackle this year. I like schedules and deadlines, and the beginning of the year seems like a nice place to start, no?

As I already mentioned, I’m not going to be doing the 50 Book Challenge again this year. I’m still going to be reading constantly, but at whatever pace I find most comfortable at the time. My main goal this year is to read only, or mostly, books that I own but have never read. I went through my shelves this weekend and collected about 40 books that fit this description. There are still others on the shelves like this, but the ones I chose are the oldest of the bunch. Some I don’t even remember buying.

Sigh.

Anyway, I went through last year’s list and discovered that of the 51 books I read, I own 30 of them. Of those 30, I’ve tagged 4 to be donated to the local thrift store: Resistance, One on One, The Road, and Before Dishonor. That might not sound like a lot to some, but for this book geek, that’s a huge milestone. If I can do the same thing this year, I’ll feel extremely accomplished.

I’m also going to do something similar with my DVD collection. I’ve got a disgusting number of DVDs. If I count all my special editions and television series, I think I’m well over 500 at the moment. I love movies almost as much as I love books. But I must admit that there are several DVDs in my collection right now that scream WTF. I haven’t watched them since I bought them…or I haven’t watched them at all. It’s time for a little culling of the DVD herd, so to speak. Time to target all those impulse buys from the used CD store or the various bargain bin buys I failed to resist. It will be a thorough review, not just of the movie itself but also of all the special features included on the DVD. It’s only fair to give the movie as fair a chance as possible to stay, right?

I plan on continuing Flashback Friday on a weekly basis. I know I missed last Friday and my Christmas post, while dealing with a favorite movie from my childhood, wasn’t tagged as a flashback…so I missed two in a row. I promise to fix that this week. I also plan on reviving my Poster Picks and Gaming Glory series. I don’t have a schedule for either, but I do have a few entries for each that I hope to tackle very soon.

The only other things you should expect here at the lair is a continuation of my geekery (life without Star Trek is not really life, IMHO), more PhotoShop phun, more silliness, more surliness, and more things that make absolutely no sense. I hope you’ll continue to visit. I do enjoy watching you all come and go through my tracking software.

Real world “things to come”? I suppose there are a few. More fun writing, of course. I’ve already started working on outlines for two short story ideas. Not sure if I’ll use either, but it’s nice to be thinking about them, to be thinking about writing again.

Also, I need to get back into my workout routine, which was completely derailed since Thanksgiving. I haven’t worked out for a solid week in a ridiculously long time, and I feel rather like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man because of this. It also didn’t help that the holidays bring with them all variety of culinary sins. So less sugar, more fruit. Even less rum and more water. EEK.

And more walking during the day. I’m already walking more anyway thanks to a parking garage shift, but I also think I’m going to start walking up the 11 flights of stairs to my office again. Not every day like I used to. Maybe every other day. Or at the very least, once a week. Definitely on any day that I’m not wearing my Janeway heels.

Yes, I own these shoes. I know, they look ridiculous and nothing like the comfortable Docs I prefer. But…well, I like how Amazonian I feel when I wear them. I easily graze the 6-foot mark when I wear these puppies. Yes, it’s silly. I’m already taller than most women in my office. But I like giving some of the guys a run for their money as well

[Trek Tangent: As ridiculous as these shoes are, at least they aren't as completely out-of-place in my working world as they were in Major Kira's and Captain Janeway's worlds. I never understood the logic behind putting Nana Visitor or Kate Mulgrew in the heels they wore with their uniforms. Even more ridiculous? Jeri Ryan's heels. I'm surprised she never broke something when bouncing through the corridors or planetside. No wonder she's in her fuzzy slippies here!]

YaY for TrekCore and their rare photos section!

Okay, I’ve prattled on enough for now. Time to get back to work. I’ve got miles to go before I sleep leave. Hope you all are off to a wonderful start to your 2010!

Oh but I do love those Kiwis.

This was a billboard erected (heehee) by an Anglican church in Auckland, New Zealand, for their Christmas service. According to this Guardian article, Archdeacon Glynn Cardy claimed that the billboard’s intent was to challenge the fundamentalist interpretation of Christ’s birth:

What we’re trying to do is to get people to think more about what Christmas is all about. Is it about a spiritual male God sending down sperm so a child would be born, or is it about the power of love in our midst as seen in Jesus?

I bet this guy presides over a really fun group of parishioners. And if he doesn’t, he should.

I’m trying to envision how this billboard would go over in the States…say, in Bunnykill, Alabama. I’m not imagining anything nearly as amusing or provocative, and that’s a shame. I’d actually be very interested in hearing the sermon that goes along with this billboard. Of course, I also used to get yelled at by our high school Bible teacher all the time because I had to keep questioning him.

Silly girl…don’t you know questioning is for sinners?

It started snowing last night at around 9 p.m. It hasn’t stopped since.

The meteorologists finally got this one right. If you live in the D.C. area, you understand precisely what I mean.

Biggest snow storm since Presidents Day weekend, 2003. I remember that storm very vividly. Spent 4 hours on the road, one way, trying to make it to one of the local airports. Don’t ask, because I’m not telling any more than that.

We’re in the band that’s expected to get nearly 2 feet of snow by the time this is all said and done. Not even officially winter yet. This does not bode well for getting out of this next season unscathed.

Even better? This isn’t even something we can blame Canada for! This is a gift straight from the Gulf of Mexico. Yeah, NAFTA!

Yes, before you ask, I’m cranky. Snow doesn’t inspire joy in me. It’s cold. It gets stuck all over your clothes and inside your Docs, then melts and puddles all over your floor, where you’ll inevitably step right into it in your fresh pair of dry socks. It’s heavy to shovel, slippery, makes a mess of an already awful driving situation. I’ve lost the ability to see it with the wonder and joy of a 10-year-old whose sole goal is to get outside and start building snowcats and snowdogs (why on Bajor would I build a boring old snowperson?).

What happened? Having to drive in snow, for one. It sucks. Sammy is a marvel in weather like this, though. I continue to be blown away by his winter weather skillz. However, his skillz do not transmit to the ass clowns on the road with me. I may not have seen fire or rain, but I’ve seen some scary shiznit out there. You really haven’t been a Beltway rat until you’ve watched a car spin out on a diagonal path from one side of the Inner Loop to the other. In slow motion.

Truth? Snow makes me think of Jodie. You should have seen her in the snow, denizens. This beautiful, wonderful dog who hated rain so much that I had to buy an umbrella large enough to cover both of us when she needed to go for a potty walk…but put her in a field of snow, and she was off. Like a bright flash of light. It was then when the Husky side of her completely overpowered the Labrador side.

Snow makes me miss her all the more. It’s been more than 4 years now. I didn’t even mourn the loss of my first dog quite this long. I don’t really know how to explain it. Yes, she gave me love and devotion that I knew I didn’t deserve. But in return, I tried to give her every drop of love and loyalty that she did deserve. She was a wonder of a dog, unlike any I’ve ever known in my lifetime. Unlike any I’ll probably ever be lucky enough to know again. She could even make a curmudgeon like me spring through snowdrifts like a jackrabbit, running to keep up with her, laughing because there was no way I could.

Snow brought her joy, kind of the way everything brought her joy (well, except bath time…and that creepy Oompa Loompa vet back home). So snow should, by proxy, bring me joy as well, shouldn’t it?

Besides, it’s Saturday. I’ve got nowhere I absolutely have to be today. Yeah, I’m still short on holiday shopping. But there’s a pot of split pea soup on the stove, a special blend of caramel dark roast coffee brewing, and a whole lot of time to do with as I please. Is that really a bad thing?

I’ll let you know after lunch…

No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting breast implants as a Christian. I think it’s a personal decision. I don’t see anywhere in the Bible where it says you shouldn’t get breast implants.

So said Miss USA contestant Carrie Prejean during a recent Q+A she did for Christianity Today.

I suppose that’s one way of interpreting the Christian’s call to stand “firm” in their convictions.

Poor Carrie. You sure do know your Bible rules when they’re spoon-fed to you. But when you’re allowed to speak based on your own knowledge of the religion you constantly profess to love, you kind of go astray, don’t you?

See, the Bible actually does say things that speak to your human vanity, your immodest apparel (I don’t think heaven has a swimsuit competition), as well as your tampering with the body you believe God gave you:

I Samuel 12:21—And turn ye not aside: for then should ye go after vain things, which cannot profit nor deliver; for they are vain.

I Samuel 16:7—…for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.

Psalms 26:4—I have not sat with vain persons, neither will I go in with dissemblers.

Proverbs 31:30—Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.

I Corinthians 3:16-17—Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are.

Philippians 2:3—Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.

I Timothy 2:9-10—In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array. But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.

II Timothy 2:16—But shun profane and vain babblings: for they will increase unto more ungodliness.

See? These are but a few of the examples of the guidance provided on vanity and modesty from your good ole KJV. Goes along with your own statement, made in this same interview:

If you read the Bible, it seems like everybody is trying to argue with the truth. It’s in the Bible, and if you believe in the Bible you believe it’s the truth.

From the mouth of babes, indeed.

Bottom line: Your additions to your temple are a boob boo-boo, according to what you profess to believe (unless, of course, God sent you a special permit to make those additions to His temple). After all, Yahweh has dictated, “Therefore shall ye observe all my statutes, and all my judgments, and do them: I am the Lord.”

Now you’ve gone and broken the manufacturer’s warranty, little sheep. Whatever are you going to do?

Of course, one must keep in mind that little bit of biblical advice about how even the devil can cite Scripture for his…or her purpose. Loba has been called a little devil before…

At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we are meant to honor those who protect and defend our country, our freedoms, our rights. So it is on this day as it has been since before even my parents were glimmers in the eyes of their parents.

Last night, 14 hours before we were scheduled as a nation to observe this solemn moment, the Commonwealth of Virginia injected a lethal dose of chemicals into John Allen Muhammad, and a grateful nation ended the life of one of its soldiers who brought his conditioning to kill onto his home soil.

For those not aware, in 2002, John Allen Muhammad and his then 17-year-old accomplice Lee Boyd Malvo were known as the Beltway Snipers. They killed 10 people in the D.C. metropolitan area throughout the month of October. Further investigation determined that they killed numerous others during a cross-country trip that zig-zagged from Washington State to Arizona to Alabama to the D.C. area. Muhammad trained Malvo using the sniper skills he acquired from his military service, which included deployment during Operation Desert Storm.

Even after more than 7 years, I can still tap into a fear that I thought unfathomable before that October. The year prior, our entire country felt fear injected through our universal veins. But it was still a disconnected fear, even for those of us who work and live so close to the Pentagon, who have family and friends who worked there, or in the Twin Towers. Yes, it touched our lives. Yes, I knew people who lost loved ones in the attacks. But it touched me in the way that any such violence touches us: with distant whispers that, yes, such things happen…but not directly to me.

Muhammad and Malvo brought the whispers close to our ears, ominous threats breathed down our necks with icy intimacy. It was the frustrating randomness of it all that crippled us. People doing everyday tasks…pumping gas, vacuuming their cars, shopping for groceries, waiting for a bus. We took these tasks for granted until the day we realized that someone out there could at any moment end our very existence simply because we needed a gallon of milk or to top off our tank before we headed home.

Why?

What in Muhammad’s life brought him to these acts? Reports after the fact indicated that he showed signs of disturbance during his service time. But in war there is little time for coddling or concern. And then they are processed out at the end of their service…and then what?

We send these soldiers out into battle. We train them to kill and we ask of them the greatest sacrifice that any human is able to offer, that of their own life. And they do it, because it is their job. Their duty.

They come home and what then becomes of them? The suicide rate among soldiers is at an alarming high right now. We weren’t even sending those with physical wounds and scars to decent treatment centers for a while, so is it any surprise that those with internal scars should completely fall through the cracks?

Of course, all of this is speculation on my part. Maybe Muhammad was deeply damaged prior to his service. If true, though, it begs the question of how he was able to pass through the ranks undetected as insufficient for military duty, especially duty that would train him to be a sniper. Maybe his military time had nothing or little to do with his actions in 2002. Then again, life is not a series of perfectly separated incidents. Our lives are tapestries, woven together in complex, overlapping patterns. Tug one thread and a thousand begin to unravel. Even soldiers not yet deployed to combat zones can crumble under stresses unseen or unknown until it’s too late. The recent events at Fort Hood stand as proof of this.

Only when it is too late do we finally respond with a resounding call to “make them pay” for their crimes.

The United States has executed more than 1,000 people since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976. We claim that states with the death penalty option see fewer crimes deemed punishable by death. Crimes still occur…just not ones bad enough to qualify for death. Some view this as justification for government-sanctioned murder. The system works!

Some will undoubtedly call me naive and a bleeding heart. They’ll accuse me of not understanding because I have never lost someone to the crimes of another. And that’s very true. I cannot say what that would do to me, how that would change my opinion. But I do not know for certain and, to be honest, I do not ever want to know.

So in my naivete I grapple with these questions. When is murder right? When we sanction it with yellow ribbon magnets on our cars and Veterans Day sales on camcorders and iPods? When we obfuscate it with words like “justice”? Will humanity ever reach a point in which we no longer feel entitled to kill each other for our differences, our prejudices, our possessions, our beliefs? Or are we simply too defined by genetic programming that trickles down through the millennia to the time we burbled up from the primordial ooze? Are we nothing more than animals who learned to make laws we will inevitably break? Or can we aspire to become more? Become better?

I don’t know. Maybe, though, that’s the best place to start.

That’s how our local talk radio traffic reporter described the hella awful computer meltdown that’s been crippling the D.C. commuter scene since early yesterday morning. Seems that the computer system that runs the operation of all the county’s traffic lights took a massive nosedive right at the beginning of yesterday morning’s rush hour. What did this mean? It meant that the transitional program that switched all 750 stoplight systems from “normal” to “rush hour” mode was not there to perform its function. So all those stoplights remained stuck in “normal” mode.

And that’s when rush hour traffic became traffuck.

Can you believe this? An entire county crippled by what WaPo described as “a Jimmy Carter-era computer.” Are you kidding me? Jimmy freakin’ Carter? You mean that peanut farmer who was elected president the year I was born? For a human, that ain’t all that old. In computer years…well, let’s just put it this way: I think Bette Davis is in better condition than this computer system. My iPod can do more advanced technological tricks than a late-70s-era computer system!

The solution? Right now, technicians are driving around the county, resetting the stoplights manually. Yeah. They’re also keeping in touch with each other via smoke signals and Pony Express.

Meanwhile, HAL is still not responding to resuscitation. So this morning’s commute was even worse than yesterday’s. A drive that should take me 25 minutes but usually takes me double that time during rush hour took me almost 2 hours this morning. Can you guess how unhappy Loba was this morning? I couldn’t even stand listening to my iPod, I was so irritated.

I really hope the computer geeks figure things out before the evening commute. I don’t know how much longer I can contain my LobaHulk Fury. You know how temperamental red heads can be…

Brought to you by Lactaid Fast Act!

I haven’t really brought you much in the way of useful information lately, have I? My bad. So here’s a little advice from your friendly neighborhood Loba: Don’t trust Lactaid Fast Act.

For those who don’t know, Lactaid is a non-FDA-approved over-the-counter pill marketed to those with lactose intolerance. It’s designed to provide the body with the enzyme lactase, which said intolerant people lack, to break down lactose properly.

What the makers of Lactaid fail to mention is that some people will have a very negative reaction to this pill. And by negative, I mean the pill will make those people reenact the “Barf-O-Rama” scene from Stand By Me.

Thank the Prophets I’m not a lactose-intolerant person (although I can be somewhat judgmental of cheeses based solely on their wax color). However, I have witnessed the agony of Lactaid-induced stomach exorcism twice now by a denizen whose name will be withheld to protect the nauseous.

It’s quite disconcerting on many levels, I can assure you.

The really scary part is that this side effect didn’t manifest itself immediately. Said denizen was able to take Lactaid twice and have nothing but positive results. The third time, however, was most assuredly not a charm…unless you find projectile vomiting to be charming. If you do, you’re a bit dirty in a bad, bad way. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until the fourth time that the puzzle pieces clicked into place and Lactaid was revealed to be the culprit.

The culprit box of Lactaid, however, said nothing about possible side effects including channeling Regan’s Captain Howdy demon. I get that this might deter people from buying your product, but as a company, shouldn’t the safety of your targeted consumers be more important to you than your bottom line? After all, I’ve read accounts of parents giving these pills to their children, and it affected them in similar or worse ways. Shouldn’t this company be held accountable?

Ha, yeah, I know. I forgot for a minute what I was saying. That won’t happen again, promise.

So, there you go. If you’re lactose-intolerant, you might want to keep holding out for that miracle fix. I’m here to tell you that Lactaid ain’t it.

Hey, check this out:

What you’re looking at is the satellite image from Google Earth of the Naval Observatory here in Washington, D.C. Why am I showing you this? Because it’s the first time that I’ve checked out the Observatory since Obama came into office. Which means it’s the first time I’ve seen more than the equivalent of this:

I know it’s not that bad from this height, but when you tried to zoom in for a closer look, it all just went to hell in a messy, pixelated hand basket (and I’m a big dork when it comes to resolution issues in images). Why the blurry secrecy? The Naval Observatory is where the Vice President of the United States of America lives.

Ah…I bet you’re seeing this picture way more clearly now, aren’t you?

That’s right. Dick Cheney somehow pulled enough heft that even though we could clearly see the White House in satellite images (of course, the roof was blurred back then), we couldn’t see his house. Here’s a lovely explanation from Maureen Dowd:

The vice president, who believes in unwarranted, unlimited snooping, is so pathologically secretive that if you use Google Earth’s database to see his official residence, the view is scrambled and obscured. You can view satellite photos of the White House, the Pentagon and the Capitol – but not of the Lord of the Underworld’s lair.

Ding dong, the lord is gone. So now we can see a fairly clear image of what is now Joe Biden’s residence. I know it’s a silly trifle of a change, but for some reason it made me happy. I’m such a Google Earth geek anyway. Hours of my life can disappear in the blink of an eye when I get into this program. So it’s always been a personal irritation that I could never see this one little blip on the map.

If you’d like to share my joy, swoop on in to 38˚ 55’15.34″ N and 77˚ 03’56.73″ W in Google Earth (I think I got that right).

Know what makes me tired? How so many recent events have proven that we are a society trapped in a downward spiral of uncontrolled rudeness and stupidity. What am I talking about? Why, what everyone else is talking about, of course: Joe, Kanye, and Serena, oh my!

We start out with Rep. Joe Wilson’s outburst during Obama’s address to Congress. It was disrespectful, yes. Then again, so were the Democrats who booed George W. Bush during his State of the Union address in, I believe, 2005. Wilson, however, is also being labeled racist. (Those booing Democrats, in case you’re wondering, were never labeled moronists.)

I’ve gone over this one before, but apparently I’m screaming into the wind yet again. Now even former presidents are getting in on the racism tagging. To Obama’s credit, he refuses to take this tired, stale bait. Perhaps because he realizes that this is simply another smokescreen to detract our attention away from an honest debate about important issues. Kind of on the same level as death panels and tea baggers (yes, please giggle if you must at that one).

That’s what Republicans are guilty of at this juncture: not being blatantly racist. No, their specialty is fearmongering as a smokescreen to deflect attention from real issues. How do you think they convinced half the country to re-elect Dubya even though he didn’t have enough qualifications to be elected school crossing guard? Fear. “If you don’t vote for George W. Bush, the gay terrorists will invade and turn all your children into gym teachers and nancy boys! And they’ll do a FABULOUS job of it!”

Same difference now. “Obama’s health plan will mean Great Aunt Myrtle will have to be put to sleep because she’s too old! Obama’s going to personally euthanize her! Then he’s going to turn her into Soylent Green and serve her to the unemployed!”

Okay, that last part was a bit over the top…but so are the death panels. What purpose does this kind of panic serve beyond the obvious of detracting from intelligent discourse? Yeah, like we’re capable of such a thing in this country.

Actually, though, I’m derailing myself. I’m not here to talk more about the universal health care issue or all the other political piffle that’s been irritating me. It’s too early in the day to get my blood pressure that high. No, because now we move from Joe Wilson to Kanye West. I don’t want to say much about him, because he’s really not worth a lot of commentary. I’m simply acknowledging that he was a big douchewanger…yet again. But then there’s Serena Williams threatening to cram a “fucking ball” down someone’s “fucking throat.”

All righty then. Women, we still don’t make the same pay for doing the same work as a guy, but we’re now able to throw tantrums in the sports world, like the big boys do! Just like Mary Tyler Moore, looks like we’ve made it after all!

Now, of course, all three of these hotheads have apologized. It took Serena a little longer, but she finally came around (after much pushing from her agent and others within her financial inner circle, I’m sure; we mustn’t tarnish ourselves too much or the money won’t keep rolling in). And now all will be forgiven (well, at least for Kanye and Serena; Joe’s going to keep getting dragged through the racist ringer a bit longer).

But why should we accept their apologies? Better yet, why should we tolerate this kind of behavior at all? Why shouldn’t Joe Wilson be censured? Hell, why weren’t the booing Jackasses..er, Democrats from 2005 censured? It’s the State of the Union, not a pep rally! Why shouldn’t Serena Williams be told she’s out the rest of the tennis season? Yeah, she was fined. $10,000. Wow. That’s pretty much the equivalent of fining one of us mere mortals a dime.

(Why am I not trying to punish Kanye? I think he’s punishment enough, both to himself and to anyone who listens to his music.)

Why am I bothering to rant about this, as if what I say here is going to make any difference? Will Serena read this and realize the error of her ways? Will Kanye tweet me his apology for being a wanker yet again on national television? Will Joe Wilson care that a Democrat outside his jurisdiction is commenting on him? Why should he? He’s raised more than a million dollars thanks to his outburst. And Kanye got me to talk about him (because Lord knows I sure wasn’t talking about his music). And Serena? Hell, she earned $350,000 just for getting to that match where she had her little meltdown. She’s a winner no matter what the score, if you ask me.

Which, of course, no one did. But I shared anyway, because that’s the kind of wolf I am. Now it’s back to work. I promise I won’t try to shove my mouse down anyone’s throat, although if you’d like to pay me $350,000, I’ll see what I can do. I do have that infamous red-haired temper working in my favor…