grrr...sick

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday season. We had a white Christmas here in Colorado, and have 8 inches of snow on the ground. I now have a wicked cold to go with it. Sorry for the slow posting, I will try to be back up to the 2-3 a week postings soon.

SA

Someone else could use your support today

While trying to catch up on my neglected blogging friends, I found this sorrowful news on blogging icon Bossy's blog.

If you have a moment, please stop by Bossy's and think good thoughts for the recovery of her daughter.



SA

PS Decided to remove Bossys daughter's picture here, it seemed creepy for me to post it without Bossy's consent.

HP Webcam by Revlon?

I just realized that there is a streaming webcam built into my laptop above the monitor. As I am not shooting a porno, what the heck is it good for?



Then, another use dawned on me. Come on girls, tell me true - would you use it as a make-up compact??

SA

A Bone to Pick with Colbert Nation

While I have pledged to keep posting about Stephen Colbert at least once a week, I see that it has been more than a week since my last post. Looks like I owe you two this week.

This one is an open letter to Stephen Colbert and his entourage:



God-King, while I remain one of the faithful, I have a bone to pick with you and your "#1 and #2" fan site, Colbert Nation. While you are basking away on some Bermuda beach, your nation's website is quickly spiraling out of control. Since the writers strike began, there have been no new postings here, perhaps to show solidarity with you, which is fine.

However, even with the void that has been created with no new news on the website, there are still many who comment on the last post. I first noticed them when I found a link from the Colbert Nation's comments to my little blog, which I greatly appreciated, however my appreciation soured when I began to read through the other comments and find quite a few anti-Semitic and racist posts spread throughout the comments.

From my very first post for this blog, "The Sweet Midwest Girl" I made it clear where I stand on racism, be it actively hostile or passively permissive.

Now Stephen, I know you aren't responsible for every annoying poster that feels the need to spread nonsense and hate, but I absolutely hold you and you due-designates responsible for not policing your public posting site. If you promote it, and it sells your products, you need to take a moment from in absentia and make someone deal with it. This is for the betterment of all, but especially the children. What is more American than that?

Take this happy young lad, for example:



This is JCH, the son of my blogging pal Meleah from Momma Mia, Mea Culpa. You are a hero of his. While he is enjoying your new book, what if he decides to head over to Colbert Nation to see what else you might have that is interesting? What is he going to think if he reads some of the hateful bile some posters have left?

I promise it won't take more than a few minutes for you to sort this out, and you can climb back up on your golden throne to pass judgement on all you survey. Otherwise, I will be forced to declare my blog the #1 and #2 fan site, as I am serving up fresh and racist-free content on all things Stephen Colbert.

Respectfully,

SA

A belated Turkey-Day post.

Started this on Thanksgiving, forgot to post. Anyway, a few moments of TG at SA's hidden (but well lit) lair.

- The Tour -

The calm before the storm:



As you can see here, we are well stocked for a guest list of 40. Sadly, we only have nine coming. I smell leftovers!



You will notice that I have some Jager on the left. It may be the last thing left that is mine, all other personal items have been systematically deleted from the home.

I don't drink it (it's probably 5 years old), it just hails from my youth...

And here we have a giant bird cooking, covered with a pomegranite molasses glaze. More like an ostrich than a turkey...



I may go vegan after the horrible things I had to do the that poor bird's body cavity.

The kitchen preparing for the flurry of food prep that is to come:



The table is set with expensive china and an assortment of eclectic (read: folding) chairs:



The chair I've never sat on:



Fuzzy parasites that are cute enough to be allowed to cohabit this lair:



And finally, we come to the staple of all inimate family gatherings - the booze:



I hope the foodie holiday was good to you and yours.

SA

You are Missed, Mister Colbert

As I pledged to do in "Speaking out for a Muzzled Hero of Mine", I will post something on Stephen Colbert at least once a week until his triumphant return at the close of the writer's strike. (Which now has to last at least through New Years, as that is how many posts I have partially written so far. . .)

So, Stephen (forgive me for being so informal, calling you God-King sounds too sycophantic, and we don't want that,) in your downtime, I imagine you are spending time with family, pouting about your denial in South Carolina and playing excessive amounts of World of Warcraft (no doubt as a hunter, skinning bears.) Perhaps you can use this time more constructively by wandering over to your old stomping grounds at the Daily Show and do some tradin' to give up one of your old bits, "This Week in God."



Now, I know Samantha Bee has tried admirably to continue the tradition you started with this bit, but it's just not the same without you. I am not particularly religious, but I really looked forward to seeing the God machine rise to do your bidding (no whammies,no whammies!) and cover the theological topics of the day. A chill would descend my spine when I would hear the haunting sound of the God Machine (beep bop bop bor beep.) Without your canny observations of all things holy, the fervor for this topic has gone right out of me, and I have returned to my secular ways with no knowledge of current religious doctrine.

Really, The Daily Show has no need of it without you, and you could fit it in between Threatdowns and stories of Monkeys on the Lamb. You must have something they want. Maybe some of your less patriotic ties for Jon, or Papa Bear's microwave, or heck, Jimmy. He won't mind making the sacrifice.

Just food for thought, Stephen Colbert. Which is probably all the food you should be eating after a month off. Your suits might start to get tight otherwise.

SA

Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?

Forgot to mention, my swan song as I exited the building. I set up my computer speakers in a hard to reach place, maxed out the volume, and set off "Charlie the Unicorn" as I exited the building. As I drove off into the night I could see several folks standing in my office, no doubt looking for the off switch.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Charlie the Unicorn, behold!!


It is impossible not to smile or question your grip on sanity while witnessing this fine animation. And it gets better with repeated applications. Soon you and all your friends will be calling "Charleeeee" to each other.

SA

Bart: Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?
Howard Johnson: We don't care if it's the first act of Henry V, we're leaving!

-Blazing Saddles

Last Day in Office

One of those things that have been keeping me busy and not posting regularly is that I am changing jobs. And today happens to be my very last day at my current position. While it had become clear that it was time to move on, there are things I will miss.

I'll miss my colleagues for sure. While they are all irritatingly younger, more attractive and healthier than I, they are also a rather entertaining lot. If you spend eight hours a day with the same folks, make sure you like them, they become a little like family (maybe better, because I would dread eight hours a day with my family.) I'll even miss aspects of my job, I did enjoy feeling like I was helping a prestigious non-profit modernize some of their processes. Welcome to the late '90s, soon-to-be-ex-employer. Embrace the future!

I will not miss the commute. Two and a half hours a day on the road really begins to make me feel like I am missing a lot of life. That's 27 freaking days a year, just driving to and from work!

However, now that I have the opportunity to work from home, I will miss my office.

Here I am pondering some of life's deeper mysteries on my last day...



Now it is time to pack up all the important personal possessions:



Done.

Can't forget my aquatic art....



Look out the window one last time....



And meander down the long hall one last time. . . (like horror-movie long)



And leap into the unknown. . .

SA has left the building!

Speaking out for a Muzzled Hero of Mine.

As you may know, the Hollywood writers strike looks to bitterly continue for some time, and while many shows are now affected, the ones I miss the most are the late night talk shows.

For me, (being their target demographic and all) none are missed more that the Daily Show and Colbert Report. I enjoy both, but I feel that Jon Stewart can ride out this strike with relative ease.

It's Colbert that I worry about.



Being a marketing professional for most of my adult life, I have seen many glossy pitches, heard many speeches delivered in dulcet tones that invoke a feeling of wanting to be part of whatever they are hawking (that's sales and marketing in a nutshell, folks.) But in my short tenure on this planet, I have never seen such a brilliant self-promotionalist as Stephen Colbert.

Now, some of you may argue that Stephen Colbert is normal a man, or just a character he portrays, or a talking head that reads what ever his brilliant writers put in front of him, but I say there is no need to parse up his identity. He is all those things, and he is set forth up this world to entertain me. (OK you too, but more for me. :P )

I imagine Stephen Colbert as more like Xerxes as portrayed in "300." Sitting upon his giant golden throne, God-King supreme, his every wish and need fulfilled by a countless horde of adoring slaves. All he asks from the rest of us is our subservience and love, and he will make all our wishes come true.



Now many of his adoring slaves have abandoned his golden throne and joined the picket line in Hollywood. How can the God-King survive this drought of endless love??

Fear not, mister Colbert. There are are those of us that lurk in the shadows who will support you during this time. Allow me to show my bonafides:



I am waiting to surrender it, but no one more famous than I has meandered by yet.

So Colbert, I am here to keep your name in the news, starting with my tiny daily audience. Perhaps others will be inspired to take up the challenge of keeping you in the spotlight. I pledge to mention you at least once a week until the strike is over, and then you won't need my humble offerings.

You may think that he will never know of my support, but thanks to the power of Google Alerts, he or his duly designated majordomo or hunchback sidekick will see my little post sooner or later. And yes, he does already have an adoring fanbase that can be readily found at Colbert Nation, but they offer nothing as insightful or snarky as I can.

And Stephen, (may I call you that, or do you prefer God-King?) should you feel the need to get some pressing news tidbit out though a trusted news source, I stand ready to pass it on to the adoring proletariat masses.

SA

P.S. Being a hand model is harder than it looks. I never knew I could be so vain about shots of my appendages, this was the 5th take, before I lost the light...

The Dark Horse Gains from Behind

Now that I am out of my funk for a moment to post regularly, there has been a surge in visitors to my little blog. I wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you, but that is rather time consuming, so let's settle on a blanket THANK YOU! to all, shall we?

I especially I want to thank you to some of the newest members of my MyBlogLog Posse.

Due to your efforts, I have been propelled into the top 100 in the "MyBlogLog Problogger Contest!"



It is an honor just to be mentioned, and to be in the top 100 is all I hoped for. (how many blogs are on here anyway? 106? :)

I see that some of the leaders in this contest are offering possible rewards for joining their little cliques. For any prospective members thinking of joining mine, let me make it clear that I offer nothing but snarky musings and occasional humorous photos (although it seems to me I promised an award on my "Pushing Daisies" trivia. I'll get to it...)And really, isn't that enough. . . ?

However, GorrillaSushi's prize of 184 kittens is rather tempting. . .

And for those of you that have been members for a long time, or have been so good to award me trophys or mention me elsewhere in the ether, I've been making my list of links to your blogs out there. As many of you already know, that is also a rather tedious task, but I'll get there.

SA

How do you Say Lazy in Spanish?

*SA climbs onto his tattered soapbox*

Hello all, and welcome to another installment of things that irritate me that I must now point out and lambaste for the collective good.

You know what I really despise? When an accomplished blogger that I like falls into a rut, and starts showing endless Youtube clips or meme lists of what they like or dislike and whatnot instead of using their personal energy and creativity to entertain me. Dance for me monkeyboy, dance!!

C'mon people, bloggers are supposed to be the untamed voices of the free peoples of this earth, the creative artistic spirits empassioned with the need to share their views with others, not the third-grader class clowns passing on silly jokes during science class.

Pay attention smarty pants, or you'll end of in the seventh cirle of hell on earth:

Retail.

I digress. Where was I?

Oh yes, I was surfing Youtube and found the most romantic video yet. Here, let me jump off this box and show you. *jumps off*



Now, I'm only kitchen bilingual, but that is hot, right? The way "biblioteca" just rolls off his tongue...just magic. The ladies must line up for that one.

Course, in my day, I found this to be a much hotter bilingual song. You know, when I was pitching woo. . .



SA

P.S. Are soapboxes really safe to be standing on in the first place? It's just a box. Maybe they just don't make them like that anymore. I can't imagine one single thing that I would feel safe standing on from the Container Store.

These are the thoughts that keep me awake at night.

Hold me.

Are you there God? It's me, Sarcasm

Hi God,

I know I don't come calling often, and when I do, it's because I want something. Sorry, but that's the deal. I mean really, what can you get for an omnipotent being? Socks?

Look, here's the reason I am invoking your attentions today. I want to talk to you about the fairness of biology.

I realized some time ago that I was never going to reach six feet tall. I can live with that, I am still the tallest male my family have produced in at least 150 years.

I furthermore realize that my swimmers body has gone to seed with my own innattention to excercise and love of guacamole, but I'm working on it.

Now my red hair has gone grey, leaving me with a dusty brown pelo. It's kind of distinguished, I think. I was hoping for more of a Dashell Hammett silver on the sides with silky locks on top, but it looks okay. I was rather hoping to look that way when I was in my mid-40's, but I am not vain enough to rub shoe polish in it.

Now...I have reached my tolerance limit with your so-called biology. While recieving a haircut from a heartless harpy (say that five times fast), she uttered the words that turned my blood to icewater: "You know, we do have some shampoo products for men with thinning hair...?" Gaaa! Nooooooooooooooo!



Look, I understand that my paternal and maternal grandfathers were both shiny bald and that this day might come, but not yet! I've been taking care of these folicles!

To be honest, I hadn't noticed. I have a busy life, and I hadn't obsessed about my hair since the days when I went to clubs four nights a week. However, I refuse to yield in this issue, and I plan to defy your will on this! There will be a victory of science over God here, and if a lotion/potion/poultice/torniquet exists will do the trick, I'm so there.

However, if it comes down to joining the Pubic Hair Club for Men or strapping a dead animal to my head...well...then usher me in the Bald Brotherhood.



And God... if I take your name in vain (a lot) during these trying times, please don't judge me too harshly.

SA

Push the Little Daisies, make them Pop Up!

While I have been very busy as of late, I am quite the couch commando in the darkest of night. Sorry books, no time for love.

Over the last couple of months, I have mentioned a couple of shows on TV (Dexter, Meercat Manor) that I am really enjoying, and now it is time to add to the list. There is a single show on network television deserves my snarky attentions, and it goes by the name of Pushing Daisies.



If RoaldDahl and and Edward Gory had a literary lovechild,(Think James and the Giant Peach vs The Gashlycrumb Tinies) this would be it, as narrated by Lemony Snicket. Every character, even the most mundane never-will-see-again wallflower has a deep back story.

The main character, Ned (a.k.a "The Piemaker") discovered at a tender young age that he had a special gift. If he touched a dead thing, he could bring it back to life. If he touched it again, it would stay return to being dead, and nothing could bring it back. However, if he allowed it to live longer that sixty seconds, something else would have to die in it's place to restore the balance.

And so when his Mother died unexpectedly, he brought her back. Unfortunately this act killed his best friend's Dad instead. Then, his mother touched him and died again, so his efforts were for naught. Bummer.



Skipping ahead to adulthood, Ned now owns a pie shop, but really pays the bills by going halfsies with a crafty private investigator (love watching Chi Mcbride) on solving bizarre deaths. Ned brings them back, questions them on how they die, and then they split the cash. All is going well in their morally gray scheme when Ned gets the news that his childhood best (well only) friend Chuck (a.k.a. "Lonely Tourist Charlotte Charles") has been murdered.



When Ned revives her to find out what happened, he finds he cannot bring himself to let her slip back into death, and so Chuck lives on to join their team, at a price. However, as their love grows deeper, so do the many complications, as Ned can never, ever touch her again. Comedy ensues.



Besides the decent chemistry between our lovelorn leads, the narrator is a brilliant part of the show, with his lightly delivered deadpan announcing what is going to happen, right before it does. Even the most gruesome death is rather hilarious when an off camera narration foreshadows the goings on on-screen.

This show has everything Mr. SA needs: snarky, cynical, dry, creative, witty and sweet. Oh, and the best named clubhouse to hang out in:



It even inspired me to re-read James and the Giant Peach and defy my parents and corporate masters at every turn. I see that ABC has just picked it up for a whole season, lets hope the writer's strike doesn't crimp it.

While I wholeheartedly encourage you to watch this show, be warned! I too have a gift and a curse. While I have the eye to spot really good television, and the creative talent to advocate for it, I also have the uncanny ability to enjoy shows that are DOOMED!!!

So many litter that cemetery of not-on-the-air-long-enough shows, Profit, Briscoe County Jr.(hey I liked it!)Wiseguy, Firefly, etc. The only exception being Northern Exposure, which really should have been done two seasons earlier.

This earns my Snarky Seal of Approval (I'll make one in Photoshop)and time will tell if the curse stays true to form.

SA

P.S.

Trivia bonus! You to could earn said seal if you can tell me where the title of this post comes from.

P.P.S.
It is my goal to have a fresh post every weekday this week, to get some of the post ideas rolling around out of my head, finally, and to reward my loyal fans who patiently wait for me to recover from life burnout. Let's see together how that goes, shall we?

My Apologies

Hello loyal readers. (or newbie stopping by for the first time)

I am here to apologize for the sporadic updates over these last couple of weeks. My schedule have been really full as of late, and I haven't had a good stockpile of snarkiness to unleash upon the world.

I know you are asking yourself, "Well, what the hell does Sarcasm Abounds have to do that is more important that entertaining me??"

Well, I work full time, I consult a bit, I am trying to finish my degree (I walked away in '92 from college) and I drive to and from work 2 1/2 hours a day. Oh, and I am a slum lord, gotta go shake down tenants for the rent, although that has lessened as we just sold the house that was was killing me (2 diff tenants in 15 months = 15k in damage and 7k in legal fees = nothing recovered yet.)

Normally, I can laugh all that off and muse about whatever crosses my creative mind, but this last two weeks have been a bit much even for one as snarky as me. Family matters, which we will cover another day, when I can find how exactly I want to put it.

So, there might be a bit a a gap in my musings, but if you bear with me just for a bit, I promise the best is yet to come. I have not yet begun to snark! (going for the John Paul Jones riff there...)

Until then, please enjoy my cat enjoying being the remote commander.




SA

Rocktober Bandwagon: Please drop me off at the Park-N-Ride

As I mentioned here, I donned my fair-weather-friend ball cap and proudly jumped on the Colorado Rockies bandwagon during their amazing ride through the playoffs and into the World Series. Now, here at the end of Rocktober, time for me to hop off.

I had planned to report in during the playoffs, but both games I had (still have) tickets to never happened as the Rockies swept in three the first series and then four games the second, and alas, I had tix to game four and game five, respectively.

Then they themselves got swept.

Getting swept happens more often than not these days, so no big deal to me there. However, three poorly handled events are making me jump off the bandwagon today. First was the complete debacle of how they handled ticket sales. Then, covering their error, they blamed Internet boogie men for trashing the site,(woooooo scary)and although that's a Federal crime (i think) they never officially reported it to the police or FBI or whatnot.

Really guys, poor show, and as a longtime hardcore (since you started winning) fan, may I say I deserved better.

Then there was the whole business of the team management trying to trademark the term Rocktober. Gee, you're right, I never heard that term before. . . well unless you heard any classic rock radio station ANYWHERE doing a "Rocktober" music marathon.

Today is the last straw for my hardcore fandom. This morning, on Halloween no less, they announced they would be having a Rockies rally at noon today downtown. At a park that has ZERO parking. And it's 34 degrees.

Yeah, um, let me know how that turns out, lads. I'm getting off at my stop right now. The local morning show radio personalities, Lewis and Floorwax (the Masters) on 103.5 the FOX fm were speculating on a low turnout of 5000-10,000 or so.

Ha! I'll say 2500 or less of the hardcore fan base. The ones without jobs. Or kids who want to go trick or treating. Or are immune to frigid temperatures. Let's see who will be right. Watch live here.

Anyway Rockies, see you next year. Well, you know, if you look like you are doing well and all that. I can't be hanging around if you're not winning, we're clear on that right?

SA

P.S. I try not to be a hater, but after watching him dance for awhile, Dinger is very annoying as a mascot. Purple + Dinosaur = Barney flashbacks.

I Do Loves Me Some Smooth Sales Pitch

I've been working on the Internet since it was invented (thanks Al,)and I have seen many the snake oil salesmen and corporate shills pitch me their intagible products and services for some time now, but none so smooth as this:



That is a first class pitch. This will change my life. Thank you Gabe and Max! Not to be confused with Sam and Max.

SA

Wordless Wednesday

A post without words? Sure, I can do that. Oops! Damn.

Anyway, this is what it looks like outside right now. How can I possibly stay in the office? A crime, I tell you.



Hmmm. Looks a little hazy, not doing it justice. I'll try in the morning with the sun at my back.

A view pulled back a bit:



You can see the little prairie dogs* popping up their heads on this one.
SA

(*What I like to refer to as the "little furry Hot Pockets of the plains.")

Sarcasm Answers

Well, that bit wasn't quite dead, but not what I hoped. I'll slip it back onto the shelf for now.

OK kids, the answers you've all been waiting for.

Jackie - Yes I will, mostly. Not good at that topic. What do you want to know?

Joanne - 1. Squid. Professional courtesy. 2. I filled out that on my profile for you. Currently enjoying these.

Dawn - No, in that case, he is exempt from fault. But he better suck it up and ask for directions to get out of the woods.

Minx - Yes. Yes? Yes. Try again soon.

Dating Tales - 1. Smartass: No one likes one of these. Snarky: Sophisticated humor, must be European. 2. Most likely you will have to settle in civil court, but get a good lawyer nonetheless, it makes the endless paperwork easier. Pay a reasonable retainer, and then just roll his/her costs into the suit when suing for damages. If you don't recover damages, he/she only keeps the retainer.

Tee-Plate - African or European? Hmmm, let's go with European. The average airspeed velocity of an unladen European Swallow is 10 meters per second.

That everyone?

SA

Sarcasm is Good. Sarcasm is Wise.

I've been sluggish on finishing the other two posts I've had in mind for this week, so I've decided I would open up the floor for a moment. I've been meaning to start some recurring bits here, let's try one, shall we?

Hmmm. Title. For the moment, let's call it "Ask Sarcasm Abounds." Not particularly catchy, but it will do in a pinch. I'll work on graphics in a bit. Meeting first.

I've had several meme tags which I have ignored out of hand, but if you really want to know something, now is the time to ask. One question per customer. Results may vary. Think of me as a snarky "Dear Abby"

Keep in mind that I am reasonably smart and very wise for a man of my years, and have been showered with awards, (I'm a Cat's Ass, beat that Mr. Gore!) and will be happy to address any burning questions you might have about advice, love, life, trivia, science, etc. Or you can squander your question on asking me about some mundane facet of my life, which I may answer truthfully or disregard out of hand.

So come closer...

Closer...

Hi.

What can Uncle Sarcasm answer for you today?


SA

(Of course, this bit has the potential to die horribly if no one asks any questions. In that event, I will amuse myself by answering any questions that come to my mind.)

Blog Action Day

This is to honor the Blog Action Day post that Joanne from The Laid-Back Buddhist requested.

While I am not as eco-concious as I should be, I do try. I no longer get newspapers or magazines, I try to re-use plastic bottles for awhile before I set them in the recycle bins, and I take our city's light-rail system when ever possible. I planted 10 trees in my yard in the last two years, and I keep our heat and AC systems off for as long as possible. If I can cut down on my red meat intake, I can smugly strut about in the knowledge that my carbon hoofprint is offset.

However, another brewing environmental disaster has reared its horned and shaggy head, and this one hits me in the softest part of my underbelly. (Purrr.)

If you've been reading here a bit, I have tried to make it clear that I wasn't raised with a silver spoon. I was raised by poor ex-hippies super liberal types who tried to instill their view of proper values within me. For the most part, it took.

However, as I have gotten older, and more able to sustain myself and my family, some of the "finer" things in life now call to me. Red Wine, a housekeeper, massages, and...cashmere.

Now, it's not like my folks dressed me in rough spun burlap sacks and shuffled me off to school each day, but I never had very nice clothes, mostly hand-me-downs or secondhands. I never had anything besides cotton sweaters from the Gaaaaap (in my best "Pat" imitation) and a couple of super itchy wool sweaters my far away auntie sent on Christmas.

That is, until I got older and could dress myself. Then one crisp fall day, back in '99, I bought my first cashmere sweater. Glorious would be the only way to describe the sensory output from this black v-neck, and soon we were in love. I wore it as often as I could without people starting to comment.

("What, this? No this is a different black cashmere sweater, I just happen to own three....")




Sadly if I only had carefully read the cleaning instructions, I'm sure we would be fast friends even to this day. . .

That type of article of clothing was as close to being metro sexual as I would get, but it started a love affair of all things cashmere for me. As I get older and have run out of things I want or need for any gifts, cashmere __________ is my stock answer. I now have ten sweaters, a scarf or two, even cashmere lined gloves! It's eight times warmer than wool, hard to wrinkle, has less pills and gets softer as you wear it. There are several sources of cashmere, but the largest and cheapest now comes from China.

Now, it has come to my attention that my love affair with this natural textile is bringing about the destruction of civilization!

Apparently, there are actually other humans on this planet as fond of cashmere as I am. This has spawned a huge boom in the farming of the goats - who's hair cashmere is made of. The demand is so great, the goods have actually gotten much cheaper.

These goats are very voracious consumers (much like my pugs) and will eat all the vegetation down to the very roots, strip bark from trees and woe betide anyone suffering from narcolepsy who goes down nearby a herd. They will wake up stripped of their flesh.

(Ok, probably not really, but still not a good idea.)



The mass expansion of these farms have now greatly contributed to the desertification of a large portion of China, which in turn causes more dust storms, which affects weather patterns worldwide, and especially in North America. All because of our need, my need, to consume.

So, in response to this global concern, I can act locally. I will no longer request cashmere, which will no longer be purchased for me, which will no doubt cause a worldwide glut of these goods, which will cause these farmers to switch of to far more sustainable crops, thus reducing the vegetation loss, and possibly return that grassland into a veritable paradise.

So, in years to come, if you see me strolling down the avenue in my ill-fitting, threadbare and ancient cashmere sweater, don't think of me as a poor dresser. Think of me as an environmentalist. I sacrificed so that future generations can still enjoy a fertile earth and breathe without a respirator.

You're welcome.

SA

Some sources that cover this topic in a more serious and scientific manner:

Chicago Tribune article on the true cost of cashmere

Treehugger article also covering it, and how to feel good on your purchasing decisions.

The Deep Blue (maybe a little green) Sea

This is for dear Domestic Minx, who is not too fond of the Big Blue. I recently traveled there myself for some scuba, and I can report on the denizens of said enviroment.

Now if I was a professional underwater photojournalist, I could hope that my photos looked like this:



I constanly fear this:



But as I was using a $30 camera with a pathetic flash, even 30' deep looks like the darkest abyss:


This albino starfish was as big a spare tire.

The scariest thing down there:


Me.

Please note that the shadowy tenacles behind me are in fact giant kelp, and not the giant squid that inhabit my nightmares.

SA

Saying Goodbye To An Old Redneck Friend

Last weekend, I said goodbye to an old friend. We had been together since my childhood, through good times and bad. Now, evil land developers have determined that we part ways. . .

I am speaking of my old redneck friend, the Cinderella Twin Drive-In. . .

My parents were not, shall we say, wealthy, and this became a major source of family entertainment. Many a Saturday night we would roll in, crunching through the lot in our '77 VW Rabbit, pull in and stick the clunky crappy speakers on our window. As a child, I saw "Superman 2" here, "The Aristocats" (which I still mistakenly refer to "The Aristocrats" as,) "Return of the Jedi", and countless 'Trek flicks.



Nothing gorgeous about this place, but it's been a comfy local landmark since the late '60s, and has survived as one of the last drive-ins in Colorado. Perhaps redneck is not the proper term for it, not just white trash either as it caters to all ages and ethnicity, but it has a distinctive run-down blue-collar feel to the place. A place where the adults drink Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the children eat Fiddle Faddle and Cow Tales.

In my childhood, they had some of the rustiest, most dangerous playground equipment know to man right in front of the screens for the kids. If you got hurt,(which I did on several occasions)there was no rush to the emergency room, no litigation, no first aid. Your folks would just wrap a sock or some such around the wound, and you would have to grit it out until the end of the double feature.



The playgrounds were long gone by my late teens, when my friends and I could borrow the family car, (still the Rabbit) so we would head there, perhaps with a couple of friends stashed in the trunk. Usually, we met up with others our age and formed large teen mobs, no doubt a source of irritation for the other patrons.

I made out with my first serious girlfriend there ("Moon over Parador", I think though I remember it not.) After our inevitable 2nd breakup, I watched "Say Anything" there with my consoling pals, and it seemed to help cauterize the wounds.

Then, as an adult I became involved in the endless singles scene, and never went back until I got married. We originally went as a nostalgic lark, however we had such a good time watching trashy movies and yelling at the screen in the privacy of our own car that we made the journey at least a couple of times a summer.

Sometimes we'd bring out camping chairs and sleeping bags, and watch under the beauty of the stars. And it is the only movie theatre in Colorado that you can take a $20 to the concession stand, buy a full load of junk food for two people, and still come back with change.

Then, late this summer, it was announced that the City of Sheridan, the crappy, should-have-been-annexed-ages-ago suburb that the Cinderella resides in, had decided to cancel their lease and rezone it. For high-end condos. In this market, where 1 out of every 7.5 homes in this country is vacant. And absolutely guaranteed to get worse. Insane. You should see the rest of this particular 'burb, godawful doesn't even begin to do it justice. Better they scrape the rest and leave just the drive-in. Any locals want to bear witness to my testimony on it?

Hearing this was the last chance to go, I packed up my sick wife in her two-piece jammies and a big comforter and headed to see the old girl out in style. We weren't alone, the place was packed. We got a triple feature of trashiness. "Underdog," "SuperBad" and "Balls of Fury." I was Mclovin "Superbad", but I was a teenage nerd boy once, so I could readily identify.

And so an era ends for Colorado and myself. Not the blaze of glory I would have liked, but a memorable end. My wife rallied for most of the outing, then happily snoozed away the end and the ride home. I personally would have preferred a triple feature of the Indy movies or some such, but I will always remember all the great times I had here.

So. . .goodbye Cinderella Twin, I will miss you. Thank you for all the great times you've given me, at a reasonable price.



And Sheridan, I know you are perhaps trying to modernize your ugly burb, but I hope you eat it hard with this deal. Perhaps it will bring down your glorified HOA regime.

SA

You're killing me with the cute animals. . .

If I wasn't snarkily musing from the shadows, you would be able to see my eyes roll whenever someone humanizes the cute animals. From my wife with the dog costumes (look for future rant) to meercats, otters and penguins. Especially on TV, where everything begins to look credible.

Just because you named a Koala "Bob" and raised him from a wee lad doesn't mean he won't fuck you up at the slightest provocation. Yes, otters have cute humanlike hands, but they won't be playing Xbox with you anytime soon.

Feeding Bambi with your teeth? Awww...and what could possibly go wrong?



I would find myself more in the "Crocodile Hunter" category. Animals are amazing and beautiful, even the really ugly ones. However they live in a different scale of reality than we do, and should be appreciated for what they are in the wild. They can't be judged from a human sense of morality for how they behave.

However, you already know I am rife with hidden vices, sensitivity and contradiction. The snarky always do, we're very complex that way. . .

All that being said, I was very sad when Flower died on "Meercat Manor" She was a good leader, and if danger threatens my family, I can only hope to go out fighting as bravely.

*Sniff* So long Flower...



*Sniff* Good thing it's dark in these shadows. . .

SA

We Are Among You

We slip in silently, blending into the crowd. Unnoticed by the gathered horde, we begin to imitate the mannerisms of the faithful around us, until we are virtually undetectable from the real thing, our social camouflage complete. With a little preparation we memorize enough to even pass cursory trivia examinations administered on the spot, as the die-hard core attempts to detect us. If we are caught, humiliation is certain, we will be cast into the harsh light. However, we cannot be stopped. We are among you.

I am among you.

You know us by many unflattering names, but my choice of titles is “Fair-weather fan.”

That’s right folks. I too am a fair weather fan. Sue me.

Those few that follow closely would know that as far as sports go, my time is limited, and I have narrowed my perennial favorite to one team: The Denver Broncos. We all have our guilty pleasures in this life, and they are mine. With 16 games a year, plus a few playoffs if we are lucky, I can find the time to follow. I am there through good times and bad, and “Never say die!” is my motto.

However, another local team has risen from the shambles of more than a decade of terrible seasons. As victory approached, I read the signs correctly, as the bandwagon lumbered by, I hopped on. I bought my tickets and slipped into a sold out-stadium, to stand witness to an amazing win, an emotional spectacle for all who had gathered.

Some may despise me for my Johnny-come-lately ways, but I don’t care. I was there at the moment of triumph, and I’ll be there for the playoffs. In this town, only a handful could have the gall to call me out as a fair-weather fan, every one here is. If they say they’ve been a hardcore fan for years, it is a near certainty that they are lying. . .this is a football town, through and through.

All that being said….

LET’S GO ROCKIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I'll report in from the playoffs, as a loyal true fan would do.

Unless of course, I scalp my tix! ;)

SA

P.S. I'm back baby! Thank you for the well wishes, I'm feeling better. During my malaise, I thunk up a batch of neato posts for my homies (I'm trying out my street vernacular) and I'm ready to bring it in October!

Call me Mr. Snarky October. Well, just call me.

No, really.

Under the Weather

Sorry my friends, not feeling too well these last few days, I'm having trouble mustering up the adequate snarkiness. I'll return soon. Until then, please enjoy this photo I took at Garden of the Gods recently. . .




SA

Generous People are Selfishly Crowding Me Out

One of the loans I sponsored thru KIVA paid off early, so I went to find a new third world business I could invest in, and came up short! Apparently, with Bill Clinton's new book Giving, and also a feature spot on Oprah Winfrey, all the loans are pretty much sponsored right now.

Thanks a lot, generous people! Shouldn't you be saving your cash for Halo 3 tonight? Junior is going to be upset when he finds you spent it on the poor. . .



How will I be able to feel good about myself if I can't anonymously sponsor a third world business today? Now I'll have to give blood or participate in my neighborhood food drive, and as it's a cold drizzle outside, neither have immediate appeal. I like to stay dry when I'm in a philanthopic mood.

I like Kiva, they never send me endless bulk mail requesting more donations, (unlike Doctors without Borders, who clearly spent ever dime I ever sent them in more mail to me, and the Red Cross, who misled me and countless others on my donation and used it for other "pressing needs" programs as opposed to the 9/11 familys I sent it to them for.) Just an email from each lendee once a month, letting me know their progress.

I pick who I want, and when I want. Kind of like Netflix.

Zombie Dog Kills Again.

As I mentioned in my "I'm thinking my dog just might be a zombie" post, my pug puppy is apparently a brain-sucking zombie, and I am at a loss to stop him. Well, short of actually doing anything, having a zombie dog is kind of cool.

While on a quest to find more stuffed toys for the Zombie dog to destroy and leave us unbitten, I stopped by a trendy high end pet store in our neighborhood.

Unfortunately, he escaped and killed again:




Here he is displaying his supernatural zombie strength, as he weighs 11 pounds soaking wet, and this lab was about 45 lbs.

This lab's owner was busy picking out a new Kong for her precious pet, and didn't see the terrible event, so I didn't have the heart to tell her that her doggie would soon rise and crave more than a Kong, unless she filed it with brainnssss

Rounding up ZD, I went about my day, whistling a merry tune. . .

SA

P.S. The flash made this dog's eye glow with unholy menace, no Photoshop required. It still makes me chuckle every time I see it, but I am disturbed like that.

P.P.S Almost forgot. Thank you to Dazd from "Dazed and Confused" for picking my entry in last week's caption contest. I love that shot.

Also, a thank you goes out to S.O.S. from "Someday Satori" for her post she dedicated to me here. Consider my head fed.

Viva La Rojo Pelo!

See how bilingual I am? Most of my spanish comes from my time from working as a waiter, so I could discuss fuego chickas and bet on football with the line cooks. (Who incidently, largely bet on the Raiders, to their collective misfortune.)I can also order "Dos margaritas, por favor."



Just last week, I heard a radio news story crop up again, the one that redheads will be extinct in 100 years, as our Chinese Overlords blitzed the world population with their monocolored genes.

Ha! I say. Ha! again, for you will never rub us out. We are like roaches, we are hard to kill and we do poorly in direct sunlight.

Doing some research, I found this article refuting those findings. Again.

So, brunettes, don't get your hopes up, we're going to be around for awhile.

That being said, I apparently am getting a jump on evolution, as my red hair began to go grey last year. Cripes, I'm only 37, can't it wait?

I just can't bring myself to go all metrosexual on it, I like to think that it will be considered distiguished. However, as I alluded to in my lambasting of divorced men I am sure that if I ever found myself single again, that I would cave and get my Queer Eye makeover, and be as red as Howdy Doody

So future overlords, prepare for redheaded Chinese to start cropping up.

Heck, even if extinction was knocking on our doors, it's not like we are the only species of redheads...

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net