Side Note

As you might have guessed with the rising volume of postings, my DSL is working (and topping the bandwidth test speed charts - apparently the cows and sows who neighbor me aren't using a lot of bandwidth).

Also Belated... to MissM(agnificent)

a belated Happy Birthday to you!

You can read MissM at her blog.

Crawling In The Fast Lane!

Who knew that when I recently moved deeper into the high rural hills of Vermont - and happened to get a roving bear as a neighbor - that I would happen to land in one of the few areas in the deep woods that offers DSL service. Even got it installed on Thursday.

Now only if it worked!

Sadly, I think it's a TCP issue, messed up beyond recognition and, so far, resistant to removal/reinstallation. But to know that 1.5 mbps is sitting on my desktop just beyond the reach of my system is only incredibly frustrating.

More irritating is that the only place the catten (a three month old kitten who appeared less than 24 hours after I moved in whom the dog adopted immediately, hereafter known as Jerry Che Garcia because, like his namesake, he doesn't do well in rehab EITHER) will sleep is at my temporary desk setup. My rump is a ruin of scars from his trying to convince me to get out of ::cough:: his seat.

However, Karlo will be pleased to learn that Jerry does not blog. In fact, Jerry refuses to do anything but beg for food, make the dog (Ben) cry, and fight for my seat.

My only other complaint is that I missed both a Gogol Bordello (gypsy punk) concert at my old alma mater Vermont College and a Ladysmith Black Mambasa performance at the Barre Opera House earlier this month. However, I intend to LIVE more of my life in this incarnation of me, so next time there's a concert I want to attend, I am there!

Rumors of My Death Are

... well, not entirely accurate.

By the end of the week (telecom permitting), I should be back blogging with a few tales to tell and quite a bit the wiser to match the scars I've gained.

Unlike Ann Coulter, I Can Admit When I'm Just Plain Wrong

The other day, in discussing Ann Coulter's disgusting diatribe in which she circuitously attacked Democratic presidential hopeful John Edwards as a faggot, I let anger get the better of me and, in doing so, responded a bit too much like Coulter herself for my own comfort level.

I was wrong to do so. I offer no excuses. I've been unhappy with my response since about three seconds after I hit the Publish button and I've been less and less happy with every day I've allowed go by without stating I was wrong.

I certainly won't apologize to Coulter, but I do apologize to all of you, whether or not you took exception with my comments.

Greetings From Ice Station Zebra

Or so it feels...

"Epic blizzard", "storm of the century" and "the likes of which we've never seen before" are just some of the local news headlines describing our St. Viagra's Valentine's Day Blizzard of Ought-Seven.

39" of snow fell here in less than 24 hours here and... well... you can't see anything but the tops of the taller than 40' spruces and, of course, snow. With the driveway more than 300 feet away and a lot of cubic feet to clear to get there, I'm not sure I'll be seeing the car anytime soon which is fine because there's close to a half mile of unplowed driveway.

Considering it's 3 degrees out and more than three feet of snow covers the satellite dish (which means it ain't gonna melt soon), I'm thinking it's gonna be awhile before I can commune much with the outside world.

But hey, the phone sorta works and the power, between brownouts, is going, too, so... well... uh...

I gotta go shovel white shit and with each shovel full, I think about how I'm trying to shovel away the Bush-Cheney-Neocon snowjob. Tough work.