Misc

Not much to report today, other than busy-busy at work, so other than my unusual weird obsession with the film "Open Water," I have nothing else to report. However, looks as if Olympians largely barred from blogging so unfortunately, you will have to stick with the mass media to find out the 'inside story' on the Games. I will vent my frustrations about the NBC coverage at another time, but the NY Times has already reviewed the commentators. However, the goal of this blog is to accentuate the positive! So check out Carly Patterson.

Also more than half of Americans still believe Iraq has WMDs.

Whoopah!

Olympic comeback of the day. This was simply amazing, spectacular, unbelieving -- if you didn't get a chance to see it on television, it's hard to explain just how marvelous a comeback this was, but the article gives a pretty good idea. And whoa, isn't that the world's longest run on sentence?

Linkage

The True Story Behind the 'Open Water' Movie; please note, this article contains spoilers for the film, and so don't click if you intend to see it and don't want to know how it all turns out.

Olympics link of the day: Where are all the people?

To catch a thief

jemima and I have been on similar quests lately -- she's trying to stymie the thieves who willy-nilly link to your webspace and eat up the bandwidth, while I'm trying to figure out how to get false referrers out of my weblogs. As I said to jemima, it's no fair that I'm getting over 60 hits from webdevboard.com* and yet NO feedback. Turns out, after going undercover on the message board, I figured out what the deal was -- webdevboard sends out its spider for nefarious purposes; they say it's free service to track down broken links and then to email the site owner. I say they're spamming my weblogs and I want them to stop eating my bandwidth already.

So I did some research on the topic. I already looked into the image stealing problem some time back and made some adjustments to my .htacess file to prevent any image stealing. (Before the modification, I did replace the stolen graphic with another graphic that read 'I stole bandwidth from seema.org and all I got was this lousy image' but I was too chicken to leave it up for more than a few minutes). But this spamming spider is a new beastie to contend with. I am grateful for one thing -- I'd often wondered how certain sites were showing in my logs as referrers and now I have a better idea of how that might be the case.

So, if you have a spammity spider problem, here are some links. Most of the 'good' spiders like google, yahoo, etc., will respect your robots.txt. It's the bad spiders like webdevboard's that don't. Here are some suggestions on how to keep the bad spiders away and to modify your .htaccess file accordingly. If you need to know who the spiders are, check here. If you don't have a robots.txt at all, get started here. And finally, more information on the uses for .htaccess files can be located here.

Two Olympics links today: Geek Trivia: Olympic muddle winners and US women take the silver in gymnastics.

* Yes, I didn't link to webdevboard. com on purpose because they are Evil (tm) and do not deserve a direct link. Unfortunately, I had to give them the extra publicity, but those spammity spammers deserve no referrer from me!

You'd think...

That after the lessons of Rwanda or Bosnia, the world community would take action.

Genocide in Darfur sparks outrage, but little action

Linkage

Your Olympic link of the day is a little early today. I wish I could feel sorry for these guys, but I honestly don't. I'm just glad the men are having to go through this most annoying, most time-consuming part of life: Shaving down: Swimming's painful ritual.

Later linkage will include geekity stuff, so enjoy your Olympics coverage now.

All about FSOs

So today I made a second pilgrimage in a week to my favorite purveyor of all things Swedish and flat. I had to go a second time because last weekend, I made an impulse purchase -- yes, yes, me who cannot commit to furniture, bought a small folding table on impulse -- and when I came home to set it up, that's when it all fell apart.

You see, this small folding table is pretty easy to set up. There are no weird looking wrench thingies, no odd shaped screws, no quirky pieces to line up. It's a folding table, so you literally unfold it and voila, it's functional. So I was pretty excited about the table, especially since I'd spent about 45 minutes in IKEA hauling the thing around. See, I was only running in for a moment with a friend who needed to pick something up. She left me alone and when I'm left alone in a store, I buy things.

An example of a thing I bought when left alone was a lovely rosewood carved elephant in Nice. I didn't actually need or want the elephant; it was just there, I admired it, and just out of casual conversation, I asked the street vendor, "Combien?" And he started to wrap it up for me. "Thirty-five euros," he said. I shook my head. "Too much," I said, "but it's very lovely." And then the street vendor said, "Twenty-five euros." I offered him a sad smile. "Sorry," I said. Anyway, to make a long story short, I ended up buying this wooden elephant that I didn't even want for 15 euros.

See, IKEA is just like a vendor with a blanket of pretty things. It's impossible to just walk by and restrain yourself to plain ooohs and ahhhhs when you have plastic in your wallet. And that's how I ended up buying the table (I also bought a spatula and a basket, but at 99 cents a pop, neither were a particularly angsty purchase). See, I saw the table when my friend ran off to chase a salesperson, and I was meandering around aimlessly. We were near the cash registers at the time, so I just picked up a table and then proceeded to walk through IKEA as if I didn't have a table under my arm. What I somehow forgot was that this was the new supersized IKEA, the size of two football fields; I have no idea how big one football field is, but this IKEA is pretty gosh darn large.

The way IKEA is set up, everyone goes in the same direction. You start on the second floor where all the furniture is, and then you somehow work your way to the first floor where all of the baubles, kitchenware, etc., are located. Traffic flows very well, unless you are the girl with a table under her arm going against everyone else. And I could totally tell that they were wondering how come I was going the wrong way and would I please get out of their yellow shopping bag-induced lust way and for God's sakes, what the heck was I doing without a shopping cart? Trust me, I was wondering the same thing myself.

Anyway, after roaming the two football fields, I turned around. By now, I was in serious trouble because I had added the aforementioned spatula and wicker basket to the table and I still didn't have a cart. I'd my eyes set on some pretty glassware, but given the circumstances, I figured it was best to get back to the cashier and locate my friend and thus, prevent any more damage from being done.

To make a long story short, I got home, tried the table out and just as I pushed the legs apart, what happens? The screw goes flying. Across the room, clear into the kitchen, to disappear forever and ever. To properly illustrate this, you must also know that there was a sound effect -- a kind of popping explosive metallic sound. There was trajectory, there was velocity, and magnitude; now you all know the truth, that IKEA tables also secretly masquerade as weapons of mass destruction. And like other famous WMDs, I still haven't found the dang thing.

Anyway, I went back to IKEA to exchange the table today, and this time, I decided to follow 'traffic' and start on the second floor and work my way down like all the other good IKEA shoppers. But halfway through the first football field, I got bored with the whole thing. I picked up three mini cheese graters and walked with them as the only item in my yellow shopping bag before tossing them aside somewhere in Linens. I looked at plants for a little while, before deciding to make a clean getaway altogether sans table. No more flying screw objects for me, thankyouverymuch.

Olympic link of the day: US Gymnasts Qualify for Finals.

Let the games begin

I'm a huge, huge Olympics junkie. I cannot begin to tell you the extent of my junkiness but let's put it this way -- you cannot tempt me away from gymnastics/swimming/diving with the usually lethal combination of margaritas and pizza. Why, you ask, do I care so much about these hugely expensive endeavors that come around ever two to four years (depending on whether you're including Winter Games in the count)? It's quite simple.

I always love the staging,the bravado, the sense of history and spirit that infuses these Games. I love the idea that these people have trained so hard, have sacrificed so much, all for this moment. I love that they go there, and they forget all of the artificial boundaries we construct -- political, national, religious, racial, sexuality, gender -- to come together on a playing field. I love the stories, the humanity of what we see for sixteen days. It's not always about winning, but the journey that brings the athlete to this particular moment in time.

And I admit, watching the Opening Ceremonies, I did get a little choked up watching the American team come into the arena. More universal, it's impossible to miss the joy on the athletes' faces and not share in their excitement, the desire to represent one's country. Or how about the Afghani team which is sending a woman to these Games? Or the Iraqi team, welcomed back into the Olympic fold, and upsetting Portugal in a first-round soccer match? It's the human spirit at its finest, the story of individuals that make up nations, a way for us, the world population, to get to our neighbors a little better. More importantly, it's the physical manifestation of pride and love for what one does and for one's country. It's hard not to find some resonance of some kind for every person in these Games, this pagentry of the human spirit.

Olympics link of the day: At the Games, it's a woman's world.

Vote 2004

Hey, the four of you in the country who haven't decided who you're voting for? If you're unhappy with either Bush or Kerry, go with a third party candidate who has done it all and has a kick ass wardrobe to boot: you know you want to vote Barbie in 2004.

Go go go!

Linkage

Thanks to jemima, I now understandThe Kerry's One-Point Plan For Better America.

Play it again, Seema

This special 'extra' blog link is brought to you by Jemima: A Successful Blog. It's well-worth reading, especially since it seems that prevailing thought is "if you write it, they will come." The guidelines make for a good checklist or goals to strive for when blogging.

I understand that this blog has had an unusual amount of geekity in it lately. I assure you this will stop as soon as the Olympics come on, starting with the Opening Ceremonies on Friday. Then it will be all Olympics All the Time (tm). You thought the DNC was bad...

Geekity geek geek

I went on the prowl for webhosts with CGI and Perl capabilities today for jemima today. I found a whole listing here. I'm not speaking to the quality -- some are definitly better than others -- but I was interested to see the whole "no ad" movement lives and is as strong as ever. It's a tough trade-off. You get bombarded with ads on sites like Geocities, Fortunecity, what have you, but they tend to be fairly reliable sites and easy as heck to use.

But these days, webhosting is really, really cheap. I found some plans for as little as $2.50/month, and most plans are around $7/month. Even Geocities offers webhosting for not a lot of money; examples of other pricing plans are here.

Now I understand there is still some philosophical push-back on the idea of paying for hosting. I've never understood it, mostly because I believe to get something, you have to give something back in return. That means eventually your free webhost is going to smack ads all over your lovely layout or take away features once promised. I still lament the loss of FTP from Geocities -- funny, when I started this whole web stuff back in '98, I loved browser upload and thought FTP was the work of the devil; FTP is so much better, and free of browser 'issues' too.

Every now and then, I do prowl for webspace. You never know when you might suddenly come into the need for webspace so it's good to know what's out there. Still, it makes me very glad for the largesse of the brother as it means I will never ever be subject to the whims of a free ad-hosting company and their random changes in ToS either.

Aggregate me, baby!

I went looking for a news aggregator today because I spend way too much time flitting from blog to blog, and then also being so disappointed when I pop on by and a blog wasn't updated. So, I found bloglines which is a news aggregator run online. So, no software to download, and accessible from any computer and more importantly, free.

It also includes some additional features I don't understand like unlimited disposable emails (you'd think this would be self-explanatory, but I don't really get it), as well as a clip blog. Bloglines has a 'catalog' of blogs to subscribe too, including these top blogs, but you can even find lil ol' me in the catalog, as well as jemima's site.

If you're looking for a way to condense your reading and not worry about having software downloads on multiple computers, this just may be the way to go. It seems relatively straight-forward and every blog I've subbed too seems to work properly. And did I mention, it's free?

A shout out

I just checked my site stats and saw someone from my most recent educational institution has popped by a few times so I just wanted to say howdy to that person :-)
Gig 'em :-)

Worry wart

For those of you who don't know my dirty little secret, I'm about to out it to the Internet as a whole -- or the few of you who stop by here each day. ::deep breath:: I'm a worry wart. I've never met an anxiety attack I've not embraced and cuddled. In fact, worrying is such a state of being for me that if I'm not worried, I immediately find the small molehole possible and turn it into a mountain. Then I fixate, until I'm so paralyzed by my own fears that I find it exceedingly difficult to relax or make a decision or do anything that will distract me.

I confide this to you because currently I'm at work. Yes, on a beautiful Saturday at a time when I'd planned to go for a walk in the park near my apartment. I'm here because I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep, despite my eye-lids being very heavy and my body being dead tired and sore (Oh yes, I forgot to mention -- I fell down some stairs Friday at lunch, and so now I'm worrying about whether I'll be one big bruise or not). The reason? I could not remember if I had checked one little thing at the end of the day.

Now, this little thing isn't really that little. It has to do with dates and if any dates are wrong, then that messes up the database and guess what? We re-run the whole thing in Tuesday's issue and management will be very, very, very upset with me. And I couldn't remember, for the life of me, in all of the Friday panic, whether I had checked the dates or not. Now, keep in mind that we rarely have a date problem any more here at Very Big Publishing Company (tm) because of our lovely macros. But it was the weekend and if we were going to have a date problem, it would be the weekend when the dates are all messed up.

So finally, I decided I had to come in to work so I could check on the dates. Keep in mind that there is nothing I can do if there is indeed a date problem, but I needed to know so I could enjoy the rest of my weekend or prepare for doom on Monday. So now that I checked, I can rest somewhat -- the dates were fine, all the data got in just fine and calculated just fine. However, that doesn't mean we're completely scot-free and that I cannot know until Monday.

So now, my anxiety level has come down several decibels and I'll be able to relax somewhat until the next thing comes along.

Scary: Unabashed Racist Leads Tenn. GOP Primary

Clean as a whistle

I think there comes a time in every blog's life where it literally and figuratively jumps the shark. Today, dear readers, is such the case with this blog. I say this because of today's topic -- which has nothing to do with politics, odd events in the life of Seema, IKEA adventures, or random news articles culled from around the web or even recipes. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten what a blog is all about, that it should enrich and pontificate, but not necessarily in that order or even in that importance. That being said, today, I'd like to talk about my two favorite cleaning supplies. Yes. Cleaning supplies.

First, I'd like to advocate the use of Arm & Hammer's Clean Shower with baking soda. Spare your knees by investing in a shower spray. Start out with a clean tub (so there is some scrubbing involved) and then after every shower, spray liberally with the shower spray. Voila, no build-up, no soap scum, no yucky black stuff in the tile cracks. Saves time, energy and your knees, all for $4.

Second, I'd like to also say that those blue drop-ins? They don't work. You're just as well off throwing food coloring into your toilet bowl for all the good the Vanish Drops In do. But Clorox Bleach drop-ins. Now that's the way to go. Sparkly, odor-free, and germ-cleaning all in one flush. What's not to love? So do away with the blue, and stick to the clear stuff; your bathroom will thank me.

Don't even get me started on orange-scented Fantastik. My quibbles with the spelling of 'Fantastik' aside, nothing smells quite so good or comforting. Lemon, you see, is rather sharp to the nostril, it's a little too pungent and a little too much on the nasal passage. It practically screams "the kitchen has been doused with lemon!" So, mix it up a little bit with the orange. Maybe orange in the kitchen and some lemon-scented Pledge in the living room? And perhaps some lavander-scented dish soap with aromatherapeutic properties for your dishes? Your nose will thank you!

This blog is not endorsed by any of the companies named above, but are simply the lunatic rantings of an obsessive cleaner..

We all need validation once in a while for our crack habits and wouldn't you know it'd come from Finland and why yes, the Internet habit is one hard baby to break -- I recently spent months breaking myself free, so I totally sympathesize with these poor Finns. However, though I doubt I'd use my need to be plugged in as a way to avoid military service. Can't think of a better way to go cold turkey, as a matter of fact. Check it out for more: Web addiction excuses conscripts

Things that go zoom

I meant to blog about my day at Very Big Amusement Park (tm) last weekend when it happened, but then politics ate my brain and the blog and you all never got to hear about my day at the park. So, yes, last Sunday, I treated my cousin -- 18-year old male -- to a day of fun under the sun. And when I say 'sun', I don't mean that golden orb that smiles down on you benevolently à la The Teletubbies, but more of an insidious "let's burn you and your 80 million gallons of 45 SPF sun block to a crisp."

People who say you can't melt in the sun are wrong, wrong, wrong. They have obviously never been south of the North Pole. I'm just sayin'. You know it's all going terribly wrong when you look down and see rivers of blue-white lotion just running down your legs. It's like the sunblock is jumping ship. It's saying, "Baby, it's so hot out, you're on your own and we're getting a beer." So there I was, with blue-white streaks all over my legs and arms, shiny sheen of perspiration on my face, and my 18-year old cousin was pointing at Yet Another Ride That Goes in Circles Endlessly (tm).

I'd like to also say at this point that when an 18-year old kid who has a genuinely good heart and is very good in general says, "Oh it's not so bad," you have no earthly reason to doubt him. Because he's a good kid. However. Once you're in a Very Big Amusement Park, the "good kid equals insta-trust" corollory no longer exists. In fact, the same genuinely good-hearted kid suddenly turns into one of those people, who, when asked, will always tell you that you look terrific in that pair of black pants, which could also double as a parachute in case you should ever have need of a parachute. But I digress.

Genuinely Good Kid (tm) kept pointing out various rides and saying, "It's not so bad." And then we stood in the hot sun for forty-five minutes and as we got closer to the front of the line, I could hear the screaming and I realized it wasn't screaming from fun, no. This was that other kind of screaming, the Oh my God, my 18-year old cousin just lied to me and I'm so going to be wearing the contents of my stomach on the outside of my t-shirt kind of screaming.

I tried to distract myself from the Spinning Rolling Plunging Fast Moving Ride (tm) by concentrating on my feet, which had now roasted themselves into what one line-waiter helpfully termed 'well done.' He also added that he liked his meat well-done and by the way he was licking his lips, I got the impression that after 45 minutes in line, the sun had addled his brain, and he now had perverse designs on my feet. Given that I wanted to get away from the Feet Eater (tm), my brain and I parted company when I made a flying leap into the car for the Spinning Rolling Plunging Fast Moving Ride (tm).

Things got bad when the ride operator came by and shoved the harness - a nice plastic metal thingy - right into my gut. She wasn't smiling. In fact, she was wearing an apron and a face mask. I looked back at the line but Feet Eater was still grinning madly at me. I clutched the harness tightly. I looked at my cousin. "You better be right about this," I told him. Genuinely Good Kid (tm) smiled cherubically and said, "It's not that bad." Ha.

Then the ride started. Backwards. And suddenly we were being shot up a lift. I glared at my cousin. He was smiling. I said, "You didn't tell me about this shooting up to a top of a Very High Mountain (tm) thing." And he said, "It's not so bad." And then before I could answer, we plunged down. When I say down, I don't mean a gentle slope like Kilamanjaro or Everest. No, no, this was a straight down vertical drop. The track raced up at me, my stomach was in my throat. And suddenly, we were at the bottom and I let out a sigh of relief until we started spinning. Upside down, sideways, and still hurtling at the Speed God Never Intend Human Beings To Travel At (tm). And then, not only we were we still upside down, the stupid cannon thing had come back and we were being shot back up the not-Everest/Kilamanjaro slope, except this time, we were doing it backwards. You think going forwards is bad, going backwards? Gah. It's 80 gazillion times worse.

I got off the ride with wobbly legs and my stomach mostly intact. I retrieved my brain from non-smiling Ride Operator (tm). Feet Eater was grinning at me and said, "How was it?" And I just smiled at him and said, "It's not so bad."

We were at the park from 10 until 3, when we got rained out, while waiting for Another Ride That Goes Violently Fast. By then, I was already this close to losing my stomach as it was dreadfully hot, and we'd been on those silly swings which went round and round and round and round and round and round. And just when I thought the Smiley Water Fritzing Ride Operator was going to let us off, she said, in her cheerful voice, "Let's go again!" And I wanted to scream, at the top of my lungs, "Get me off!" But she couldn't hear me because we were going round and round and higher up off the ground than God Ever Intended. I couldn't help but regret that I'd left my parachute pants at home.

Looking out for you

In all of the political haze, you might have thought I'd forgotten about you, dear blog readers. But know that your safety, your comfort, your well-being, is incredibly important to me. As such, I bring you important information on preparing for emergencies. Be well, my friends.

I promise, I promise, the political stuff will stop soon, but I got a kick out of this exchange between Michael Moore and Bill O'Reilly when shown this morning on one of the news programs. I think it's very revealing. FOXNews.com - The O'Reilly Factor - Moore: Bush 'Didn't Tell the Truth'

New Kid on the Block

The 'D' party in Boston continues, with speeches from the Last Great Liberal and the man who energized the democratic base. But it was the new guy from Illinois, the guy whom I'd never heard of until tonight practically, who captured my head and heart. Barack Obama, who spoke for the first time to a national audience, who managed to weave together a heartfelt and brilliant speech.

Here's where Obama got me: In the end, that's what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope? John Kerry calls on us to hope. John Edwards calls on us to hope. I'm not talking about blind optimism here-the almost willful ignorance that thinks unemployment will go away if we just don't talk about it, or the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it. No, I'm talking about something more substantial. It's the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker's son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too. The audacity of hope!

Lucky Illinois, lucky America, to have such a man on its side.

Rallying the troops

The party faithful are throwing their version of a 'D' party in my beloved Beantown and they brought out the big guns on the first night -- Al Gore, President Carter, Senator Clinton and President Clinton. I missed Vice-President Gore and President Carter because I was at class, but I caught the tail-end of Hilary Clinton's speech, and then came Bill himself -- nothing short of masterful. As the line goes, he had me at "Good evening."

The key line of Clinton's speech that got me was when he said "Strength and wisdom are not opposing values." I had said I wasn't going to watch the Democrats go through the motion, but for 20 minutes, I was standing in the middle of my living room -- not sitting, mind you, but standing -- and nodding so hard at the television that you could have mistaken me for a bobble head doll. Tonight, I was a member of the choir, I was seated right in the center of the 'amen' corner and I'm not ashamed.

The truth is though, none of this theatrics and party is for me. I already believe and fall in line behind the party's propaganda. I always have. Line, hook and sinker, they've got me. This is for those who don't know which way to vote, who they prefer. As Bill Clinton put it, there are two strong men who both love their country, contending for the highest honor the United States can possibly bestow on an individual and we have to decide whose love and respect is greater and stronger. Most of us would prefer that our patriotism not be a contest, but that's exactly what it is today and you have to ask yourself if a Vietnam vet who understands what it means to go to war versus someone who did his level best to stay out of war takes home the presidency come November.

And in November, the quesiton we have to answer is: do we want to keep the status quo -- which means further unilateral action, increased deficits, erosion of the right to make personal decisions without government interference, escalating health costs, decreased environmental protection and continued concentration of wealth in the hands of the few -- or do we say, "We've tried your way and look where it's gotten us. This isn't the Wild West, this isn't the time or place for the cowboy mentality." If you're like me, you'll say "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore." It's time for W to saddle up and return home to Crawford.

We've given the Republicans four years to do something we could be proud of. We didn't tell them to piss off the world. We asked them to protect us, but we didn't give them permission to unilaterally invade another country without provocation, risking the lives of our soldiers and costing countless lives of Iraqis. Until this war, not a single American had died at the hands of an Iraqi; as such, what did nearly a thousand of our troops die for? What did over ten thousand Iraqis die for? If this fact -- separate from the deficit/health care issues/job training/tax cut etc., issues -- alone does not make voters angry, I don't know what will. And if this administration continues to be unapologetic of the why and will not give us the straight answers that we deserve, then they should not be in the White House. It's that simple.

Teresa Heinz Kerry's shove it 'controversy' has me baffled, because it's hardly as rude or inappropriate as the vice-president of the United States asking a senator to go commit an anatomically impossible act. If someone can explain to me the difference, I'd be very grateful. (Unless, of course, the reason is that it's just a slow news day, a phenomena with which I'm very, very, very familiar).

In the kitchen with Seema

I made a Mexican dinner the other night, and here's the very easy, very yummy black bean quesadilla recipe. The Spanish rice will appear in tomorrow's edition of this blog.

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (15 ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 green bell pepper, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
1/2 (10 ounce) package frozen corn
12 (12 inch) flour tortillas
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
1 tsp vegetable oil

Directions
1. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a skillet over medium heat,and saute the onion and garlic until soft. Mix in beans, bell pepper, tomatoes, and corn; cook until heated through.

2. Spread 6 tortillas with equal amounts of the bean and vegetable mixture. Sprinkle with equal amounts of the Cheddar cheese, and top with the remaining tortillas to form quesadillas.

3. Heat 1 tsp oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Place quesadillas in the skillet and cook, turning once, until cheese is melted and both sides are lightly browned.

Hint: If you're like me and are no good at flipping tortillas with stuff on them, it's easier to fold one tortilla in half and put the filling in between. It's a whole lot less messy than putting two tortillas on top of each other.

Enjoy!

This is the end, the absolute end, I promise, of the hype on the "terrorists making a dry run" story, but I give you the Salon's The Hysterical Skies. Note: You'll have to watch a brief video to read the article and amazingly, it's one for the new book, "House of Saud, House of Bush."

Soapbox Stance

At work today, I had an interesting non-exchange with a co-worker. He handed me an article to read (never mind that this week I'm working two jobs and therefore have twice as many deadlines to meet during the day) and when I didn't jump to read it immediately, he told me the gist of it, along with his editorial remarks on the subject. The gist of it was that he believed in racial profiling. I don't. So I didn't say anything at all and went back to work. Two seconds later, he sent me an instant message with the gist of what he had to say on the article again. Perhaps he thought I didn't understand the verbalization of his opinion and that I needed in writing. I ignored the IM.

Now, my thinking was, we didn't agree at all on the subject and I didn't have the time or passion to argue with him. Especially at 9 in the morning when I was still recovering from having company the night before. Later on, I felt somewhat guilty for remaining absolutely quiet. Some people would argue that I have a right to my opinion, just as he does, and I have every right to speak it. I think that's true to an extent. But I didn't see the point of debating the subject at all since we were clearly at polar opposites and we'd only end up agreeing to disagree.

My one regret is that I didn't say politely to him, "I don't agree with you and let's leave it at that." My gut feeling though is that he'd try to engage me in conversation further on the matter and clearly, once again, it'd be like beating my head on a brick-wall, which, given that I'm working two jobs right now, I don't have time to be doing. So my main dilemma is whether I was rude by my complete silence on the subject. I think he even saw me toss the article in the trash, even though I didn't mean to be overt about it.

Eh, an evil part of me wanted me to remind this guy who is so proud of his family's support for McGovern way back when that racial profiling is more of a conservative viewpoint than liberal. Now that would have made him mad for sure!

Links of the day: Bush and Blair keep howling about Saddam as well as an editorial from The Nation: An Error of Supreme Dimensions

A wee bit more on the topic, because you can never beat a dead horse too much: Clinton W. Taylor on Nour Mehana & "Terror in the Skies" on National Review Online

I thought it was only fair to link to the article that pissed me off so thoroughly yesterday: Terror in the Skies, Again? Looks like flying 'Arab' and 'with friends' and 'using the bathroom' is officially a no-no.

Also, here's a nice little quote as I want to spare you the pain of reading this hysterical, high-strung woman's article: shouldn't a group of 14 Middle Eastern men be screened before boarding a flight? And while we're at, why don't we screen every group of more than 4 people, hmmm? And then there's this kicker: The 14 Syrians had been hired as musicians to play at a casino in the desert. Adams said they were "scrubbed." None had arrest records (in America, I presume), none showed up on the FBI's "no fly" list or the FBI's Most Wanted Terrorists List.

(in America, I presume). If that doesn't give you pause, I don't know what should. The presumption, the assumption, that people of Middle Eastern descent or who look like Arabs are automatically terrorists is amazing and just scary, scary scary. You get the feeling that Ms. Jacobson, if she had her way, would just about outlaw flying as anything or anyone other than blue-eyed, blond-haired Protestant/Catholic. Because, y'know, no non-Muslim or non-Arab could possibly be dangerous.

And my favorite part? The author uses Ann "we must convert the Middle East to Christianity" Coulter! Ann Coulter, another hate-ridden, bile-spewing, off-her-rocker and irratonal columnist as a source of information. Gah. That's all we need -- give the crazy woman some validation and an 'amen' corner for her intolerance.

While I'll never deny the need for intensive screenings and increased security checks, I question the wisdom of automatically deciding one must be a terrorist based on appearance. Who's to decide what a 'terrorist' looks like? Yeah, the odds favor one ethnicity more than another, but this is a Melting Pot country -- we have a lot of people of lot of different backgrounds. I think it's ridiculous to assume that people are terrorists because they might have Arab descent. Especially when they pass muster on various other security checks that airlines and the government has in place.

If you're interested, the story continues here. Where, despite having passed security, having been checked out, she still assumes they are terrorists.

I have to say, if this is an example of an 'aware' American, I want no part of it. I'd like to suggest an alternative descriptive phrase: 'bigoted' American.

The future is so bright

Those of you who are chained to your laundry may be interested in self-cleaning clothes. Especially of those of you with teens or who tend to leave your laundry in the dryer overnight with dire results (g).

Special edition double blog

Oh my: Jackson to be father of quadruplets

Places to go

You wouldn't think infertility or miscarriage would be funny, but 'getupgrrl' -- an infertile woman -- has done her best to make it a laughing matter at Chez Miscarriage. A couple of posts of note are here and here. Also, if you read through old entries, you'll also find information on some new legislation being proposed by the Bush administration that is frankly scary. Check it out.

re: yesterday's entry, no, I don't know if the thong comes with the dress. And really, would anyone want it that much?

Your fashion cents for charity

The Official Gillian Anderson Website is offering up one of Gillian's gowns for auction to benefit neurofibromatosis. When I see dresses like this, I can't help but wonder, with all the money and fashion designers these actors have access too, how do they come up with a monstrosity like this?

Up the hill both ways in the snow

Blogger now has a WSYWIG editor, which is so very cool for days when I'm feeling lazy, but I can't help but feel nostalgic for the notepad days, the days before editors when damn it, we wrote our HTML by hand. Every now and then I feel the urge to code by hand once again. As much as I love Macromedia's Dreamweaver, sometimes it's too easy.

I often liken WSYWIG editors to calculators -- I don't think anyone denies that you have to learn how to add/subtract/multiply/divide before bringing out the heavy artillerary. I feel the same way about HTML. WSYWIG is fine and all for a quick down and dirty job but when it comes to the heavy lifting, I go back to ye olde NotePad.

Hee!

Have you ever wondered what Bush would look like if he was a girl? Warning: Scary, scary, scary. Do not view while drinking or eating. Not responsible for choking, damaged keyboards, or nightmares.

Go Patriots!

This Land Is Your Land as sung by John Kerry and George W. Bush. You'll like. I promise.

As American as apple pie

I don't really have much to say -- it's not easy to come up with new material to blog about every day. Especially interesting material. I'd be happy to reprint my non-existent grocery list here for you, but I'm pretty sure that'd only be worthwhile to those of you suffering from insomnia. And as for the grocery situation, it's not improved much because I can't be bothered to go to the store during the week. However, I'm happy to report I have enough pasta in my pantry to feed the country of Uruguay.

Speaking of Uruguay, are you watching The Amazing Race? Tuesday nights, 10 pm EST, on CBS. Seriously, Best. Reality. Show. I was seriously considering applying for it, except for the little detail of not being terribly adventurous with food (don't even remind me of red-bean ice-cream!) and having this thing about high places. But you should watch. Really.

Speaking of high places, the Blimp Kind are back. This time, the Blimp Kind are cruising in style in a patriotic-themed vehicle (prounounced ve-HICK-cal in the military), courtesy of Ameriquest. If you're not consolidating your mortgage or buying a house, you're unAmerican! And oh yes, while you're on their site, don't forget to enter the contest to win a trip to the 2004 World Series because there is nothing more patriotic than a baseball game, preferably watched while consuming apple pie. You can also take the trip with some baseball great I've never heard of, but there's nothing here on whether you'll have to spend time with the Blimp Kind. So go. Enter. And don't say I never offer you opportunities to show your patriotism.

The State of Seema

I am back and I warn you, back away slowly and no one will get hurt: I am sleep-deprived, painfully and critically so. I'm also hungry. The reason I'm hungry is that my refrigerator is empty. This should be no surprise to some of you. I haven't been to the grocery store in nearly a month. However, it wasn't supposed to be a problem until I left my dinner on the counter top in the Big City to the West -- 3 hours away. Instead, I came away with a big bag of Cokes, lemonade and Ozarka water. This is a good thing; I hear people can live longer without food than they can without beverages and it's a fair bet to say that I'll be very well hydrated from here on out.

I had a writing revelation last night. Ed McMahon showed up at my door and said, "You're finally in!" I think he was talking about a book, but I'm not entirely sure. I was too busy boggling over Ed McMahon in my dream and the fact that he had the gumption to show up without a million-dollar cheque. So, despite the fact Mr. McMahon didn't come through with a million dollars, I invited him and said, "I'm 'in'? Where am I 'in' and how did that happen?" He didn't quite answer the 'where', but he did answer the 'how'. Ayn Rand, he said. "You must go back to Ayn Rand." So now, not only does Ed McMahon not show up with a million-dollar cheque at my door, he also has become suddenly and scarily telepathic -- he knows I've given up on Ayn Rand, that I've stumbled one too many times over her self-promotion and countless examples out of her books. I don't know how he knows I've written Ayn Rand off, but Ed McMahon knows.

I woke up then, after the dream, and realized that this wasn't even a very complicated sign. The sign was pointing west and saying, "Go, young woman, and outline. Go with plot-theme, come up with a climax. In short, young woman, know what you're writing and you'll get 'in'."

And en classe today, one of my classmates was horror-stricken to discover multiple tenses in a sentence and another classmate lamented, after going over rules for cities/states/countries/islands, "Do French people get these right?" My main contribution to class today was calling 'snail mail' les lettres des escargots. Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring to it.

I have over 300 pieces of spam. And no, not the edible kind.

Also, those of you who receive this blog by email, I've fixed the connection problems so the email will start up again. Sorry abot the lapse in service.

And now, dear people, it's time for bed, but in the morning, I shall forage for sustenance in order to maintain the strength to outline my way through stories according to the rules of Ayn Rand.

Geek Whimsy

I was thinking the other day that it'd be really cool to come up with a sort of recs system for sites like mine that have a certain number of fics covering a certain number of fandoms. I envision a database that allows you to pick characters, fandom, plot versus no plot, romance/gen/het/slash/angst/humor, and rating. Once you put all the variables in, it comes back with a story or two that fits your particular need at that time.

So maybe 'recs' isn't the right word -- perhaps, it's a customized offering depending on what the reader wants to read. That way, people wouldn't have to shift through, say my Paris/Torres angst, if all they really wanted was Paris/Seven love. Scrolling could be kept to a minimum and perhaps the reader could customize the site to feature only the stories she likes to read. Honestly, frightening as it is, perhaps someone could customize my site for All Janeway/Chakotay (tm) all the time. Hmmm?

And places to go: The Debunking of Fareneheit 9/11.

And on that note, good night moon.

You can take it with you

Confession time: I'm a pack rat of epic proportions. When people line up to write my biography, there will no confusion, no mystery, no unexplained phenomena/motivations in my life. This is because I save every single piece of paper I've ever received. Seriously. There is paper everywhere -- in my car, in my apartment, in my office, everywhere. Yellow sticky notes, notebooks, scraps of papers, backs of envelopes, bills from 1998, you name it -- I've got it. If you ever sent me a letter or postcard, it's in a shoe box at the top of my closet -- I now have about 8 shoeboxes with letters going back to 1988, if not before. Other people collect stamps or postcards, I collect paper and seriously, am so not picky about the type/style/quality. I basically subscribe to the philosophy of "more = better."

The reason this all comes up is this weekend, I cleaned up (and note: the word 'clean' is being used very loosely) my stuff at the house, because my bedroom will probably go to my cousin and his daughter, aka Purple Bunny Niece. In a corner of the bedroom, I've had about 4 or 5 boxes of stuff just sitting there from my move last summer. Going through the boxes, I found my phone book from Grad School Town, my lease signed 3 months before my first semester, a receipt for gas from 1998, four very beautiful cheat sheets for statistics, and a phone number on a piece of paper -- but no name to go with the phone number (btw, if you've been waiting for me to call you for at least two years now, and I haven't, it may be that your name and phone number are in two different places).

Amazingly, in those boxes, I also found stuff from undergrad (now 6 years in the past), and high school (a decade ago). So this is all paper I've schlepped across three states and five towns and several residences. I assume if I looked hard enough, I could probably find paper from when we were overseas. The thing is, most people use moving as a way to get rid of stuff. Me, I just toss all the stuff into a box, put duct tape on it and stick it in a corner and hope no one ever calls me on it. Forget burying a time capsule in the front yard of your school -- just hire me and I'll turn your entire place into a mausoleum of receipts, expired insurance policies, test papers, random newspaper clippings, grocery lists and envelopes with cryptic messages/phone numbers scrawled on them. Archeologists will love you for your consideration.

So, while a bunch of stuff got shredded and tossed, the rest got put into an Eddie Bauer bag and was dragged back here, ostensibly for me to go through and figure out what all of this paper is all about; my mother even helpfully threw in a couple of binders to I can get myself somewhat organized (A co-worker at Very Big Insurance Company once said I was the most organized person he ever met and that it was no surprise I could always find what I was looking "because it was all in the same place." Who needs file folders and binders or drawers when you have perfectly good desk space? Hmmm?)

Incidentally, I have tons of paper here too -- I've stopped using all but a corner of my dining room table because the rest is covered in bills/notices/flyers/coupons, stuff that I've somehow formed a deep and meaningful connection with and thus, cannot bring myself to throw out. After all, you can never have too many coupons to Linens 'N Things.

Hello. My name is Seema. And I have a paper problem.

Play Time! I made it 63 meters. How far can you go, hmmm? No updates to this space for the next 3-4 days. Be strong. Go see jemima for content in the meantime or my newest favorite blog: dooce. Or alternatively, see what basic right the anti-abortion movement is attacking now. So until Monday evening, ciao!

Habitual choices

Not only am I a creature of the Paleolithic, I'm also one of some very deep and ingrained habits. I literally do practically the same things in the same order every single day. Any little upset to the routine and I go all cranky. It's unbelievably sad just how routinized I am. To give you an example.

Every morning I wake up at the same time to the same CD: 7:30 am to Sarah Brightman's "Harem Tour" CD. Even if I wake up before 7:30, I lie there and wait. And even when the CD comes on, I don't actually get out of bed until My Imagination comes on; some mornings, when I'm particularly eager to get out of bed, I will actually hit the fast-forward button twice to get to the song, I'll listen and then I can get out of bed (Yes, I actually have to listen to it all the way through before I get out of bed).

And then it's a stumble to the kitchen to put the kettle on for coffee so by the time I finish in the bathroom, the water is boiling. I like to watch the last 15 minutes of the Cosby Show and about a half-hour of the Today Show while drinking coffee. I get cranky if I miss the 8 am headlines with Anne Curry. I get really upset if more than two of the Today Show hosts are missing on any given day, like today, when only Matt Lauer was there; 8 am is still not late enough to take Campbell Brown, lemme tell you. Ironing happens at 8:30, along with hair etc., and I'm out the door at 8:50 am at the latest. If I'm out any later than 8:50, I start to get agitated, even though I'm not technically late at work until 9:30 and I live all of 2 miles from the office.

I listen to the same CD in the car every day -- Kuch Kuch Hota Hai -- and I listen to tracks 1, 2 and part of 4 on the way to work. Coming home, it's tracks 6, 7 and part of 8. Every now and then I might deviate and substitute number 5 -- which is a fairly fun and upbeat song -- for either song #4 or song #6. (BTW, a friend from college once visited me and I had Sarah Brightman's Eden in the car for his entire visit; he return a few months later and Eden was still in the CD player. My friend nearly had a conniption on the spot).

I park in the same spot every single day at work and I always take the stairs down the parking garage to the skywalk. I get cranky if the usual guard isn't by the door to wave and smile at me; the other guard doesn't seem as friendly somehow. At the office, first thing I do after logging on to AIM and the stock exchange ticker, I check my email. Then it's a quick check of the day's headlines etc., and by around 9:45, I'm ready to start working. Sometimes we run down to the Mexican place for a breakfast taco. My work day is also fiercely regimentated, with several deadlines over the course of the day. The afternoon deadlines are the killer ones, and I start to get cranky when we get close and there's work still left to be done. Sometimes I'm fearful, that because I am such a creature of routine, that if I'm working a routine job, one of these days I'll just turn into some automaton or something.

At home, after work, the routine is usually either to head to class/gym or a walk with my friend in the evening. Then it's back home for dinner and I watch one episode of the X-Files every night (two episodes on Saturday and Sunday). Then, if there's time after doing homework for class or my 'reading time' -- usually about an hour in the evenings -- I'll get online and see what's going on. Then it's time for a shower, and more reading in bed. In the morning, I get up and do it all over again.

Lately, the one change has been I've been doing some homework in the mornings. I think that's a remnant of my grad school days where homework used to go on until close to midnight, and then I'd wake up super early in the morning, around 6 am, to keep going. Somehow, I'm still more alert and eager to do homework first thing in the morning. Bills, btw, also get paid first thing in the morning. Also, Tuesdays are starting to turn into television nights at my friend's place, as she's got cable and I've got a thing for Outback Jack.

So there you have it. The life of Seema, aka the cure for insomnia. (Why yes, I have run out of things to blog about).

My own personal Paleolithic

When I whip out my cell-phone these days, the expressions of horror on people's faces is almost too much to handle. They stare at it, with a mixture of awe and disgust, and they say, "What is that?" The question itself is silly; Alexander Graham Bell set up the first telephone exchange in 1878 and surely, even for late adopters, everyone must know what a telephone is by now, yes? However, my cell phone is a novelty, because it's a model from 1999 and (gasp!), I'm still using it!

Add to that that I don't own a digital camera (or heck, any camera at all), my stereo is over a decade old -- high school graduation present -- and my television is getting close to that age (21st birthday present). I do have a fairly nifty DVD player, but that's because of my brother, but my VCR is also from the last century. I still listen to tapes, I don't own an IPod or a scanner, nor do I have any intentions of getting either. I don't have a nifty plug-in hard drive, or 80 gazillion CDs. I still record on VHS because I don't have TIVO, nor do I have digital cable; only the networks play at Casa Seema. No high-speed internet either here -- I'm proud to say I've been on dial-up since 1991. Go me!

The thing is, the fact that I choose not to upgrade myself is a personal decision. Why spend $200 on a new phone when the one from the previous century still works? Seriously. Call me. You'll see that I'll pick up. The phone works great. I find that the Kodak disposable cameras coupled with SnapFish solves the digital camera problem (a problem I was actually unaware I had until someone informed me that I was so behind) and as for the high-speed internet, well, maybe it's the right choice for you, not for me. I'm happy for you, and you should be happy for me.

I think it's cool some people like to go out and buy new stuff and constantly upgrade. I like that they have that confidence and desire. I don't. I'm very much of the opinion if that it works fine, then there's no need to replace it. Also, if I've gone without for a while, I don't ever see the need. Except for the ironing board -- I went without for quite a while and finally, I had had it; push came to shove, the wrinkles weren't coming out, and I needed an ironing board like no one's business. I love me my IKEA ironing board, because I genuinely needed the board and I use it almost every morning.

I like to keep life simple and uncluttered. I don't want to be out there getting the latest Blackberry or worrying that my phone just isn't cool enough. So I download something 30 minutes slower than someone else -- heck, I was going to be online anyways for that amount of time, so what's the difference? So don't worry about me, sitting here typing away on a 'slow' connection. I'm doing just fine. As long as one has the basics, the Stone Age can be a very nice place to be.

More write stuff

In response to my post below on writing, Alex Voy responds: " How about the end of 'A Tale of Two Cities' -- "It is a far, far better thing I do" etc ? "It" and "thing" may be vague, but they make a great line that remains with anyone who's read the book. Maybe Dickens could afford to break the rules."

I thought I should clarify what I meant by the limited use and vagaries of "this," "that," "it," and "those." Words like the ones I just mentioned are not necessarily specific in meaning unless the author makes the meaning specific. That doesn't mean you shouldn't use them -- it just means you should take another look to make sure you cannot use something more specific instead. For instance, you can write "I'm going to pick them up tonight" and the reader is left wondering, what is them referring to? You can qualify it either with "groceries" -- ie, "I'm going to pick the groceries up tonight" or have a previous sentence between so specific that the second one doesn't necessarily need to be so.

Example: He moved the chair so I could sit in it.

It's obvious 'it' refers to the chair in the above example. Something less concrete than that would be:

I sat down on it.

Sat down on what? A rock? A bench? A sofa? That's all I really meant by saying "it" et al were vague if not set up properly. And in the above example, it doesn't take much more effort to write "I sat down on the chair" and the reader will understand immediately what a chair is.

It's always better to be more specific rather than not. "Rose" is more descriptive than "red flower," "golden retriever" more specific than "dog", etc. Ayn Rand says there should be no question about what you as the author really mean by the words you use. If you say "rose", you do not mean a "lily," etc. There should be, in other words, no subtext unless you as the author intended for there to be so. That way there's no need for the reader to interpret anything other than what you've intended to put there.

CNN.com - Trojan virus attacks popular Web sites - Jun 25, 2004 -- in other words, why Mozilla is a superior browser to IE.

Word

Once again Ellen Goodman says things way better than I ever could.

In other news, you may now officially call me 'Noah'. I'm contemplating asking MTV's "Pimp My Ride" to turn my trusty Corolla into a boat.

On writing

I picked up The Art of Fiction by Ayn Rand from the library yesterday. The book is highly recommended by jemima.

What I appreciate most about this slim volume is its logic and clarity of purpose. Most of all, it all makes perfect sense, especially when it comes to using language as objective rather than subjective -- that there should be no hidden meanings or motives in the word choice, thus eliminating all debate of whether indeed there is subtext. I finally understand what my 12th grade teacher was all about when he harrangued us to become specific with our meanings, rather than using vague terminology such as "it" and "that" and "those", for it allows us as readers to draw our own conclusion when the writer herself isn't clear and specific about what she means.

About theme and plot, Rand makes it very clear that characters must have choice, that they cannot react to what happens to them, acceptance of fate, if you will. If things simply happen and for that reason the character moves in response, then that's boring -- that's not what we as readers want to read. Indeed, it makes the job as a writer harder because then it's necessary to come up with several things that just coincidentally happen to the protogonist and where's the interest and promise in that?

Rand writes: "Coincidence is always bad in writing, and it's disastrous in plot writing. Only lesser plot writers, usually bad mystery novelists, characteristically employ coincidence, though some great writers, like Hugo, are guilty of it at times. But it is to be avoid at all costs. A plot represents free will and a man's achievement of, or at least struggle, for his purpose -- and coincidence is irrelevent to anyone's choice or purpose. It can happen in life, but it is meaningless. So do not write the kind of stories in which conflict is suddenly resolved by a natural disaster, such as a flood or an earthquake that conveniently kills the villain at the right moment."

We often refer to these coincidences as plot devices or deux ex machina, but sometimes it's just plain silly. Stranding two unlikely people on a planet or causing injury to one so another has to take care of the first and in both situations, undying love is finally confessed -- these are occurrances of coincidence, contriving a situation that forces an outcome, rather than allowing for a natural one. In other words, the author shows her hand very clearly in such a scenario and the ending is a foregone conclusion. And as such, the suspense is eliminated and the story uninteresting to the reader.

Respect the H

En classe today, we were introduced to the Germanic H and the Latin H. Somehow, I muddled through Very Many Years (tm) of French without being aware of the existence of either a Germanic H or a Latin H. But there is a never a dull moment when it comes to French grammar (I have a very haphazard approach to French grammar to begin with, forgetting most of the rules and just throwing articles and genders at a page/conversation and hoping one of them sticks) and hence, I should not have been surprised by the sudden emergence of a second H.

The second H -- the Germanic H -- is also not pronounced, a la the Latin H; however, unlike the Latin H, there is no liasion with the Germanic H. Hence, a Latin H will blend together with its article -- le, la, les -- wheres a Germanic H has no blending, no liasion. An example of a Latin H is l'homme -- man -- and a Germanic H would be Le Hollande (the country). The first example is literally pronounced lohm, while the second is Le Ollande. Got it?

Apparently the Germanic H is prevalent in English too. Words like hero and heir are Germanic -- we don't pronounce the 'h' for those words. The Latin H in English is in words like 'hair'. I'm so glad I take French lessons -- finally, I'm getting some English grammar lessons!

In other news, il fait pleut beaucoup. In other words, living in a swamp is vastly overrated and I've never seen so much rain before in my life. Unfortunately, it's going to rain all through the weekend. This is no good because a group of us are going to the amusement park on Sunday and it'll be no fun getting rained out. I also had the experience of driving very slowly through 'Lake University' as a good chunk of the road at the university was under water. However, a Honda Civic ahead of me made it through with no problems and I'm proud to report my sturdy and dependable Corolla was also able to ford the water.

The one good thing about the copious rain is that many large flying critters with at least six legs met their end on my windshield this past weekend; this rain thankfully eliminated bug guts from the wipers, winshield and whatever that front grate thing is on a car. Also, that nice layer of pollen that accumulates every now and then, that's gone too. Cross car-wash off my list of things to do, thankyouverymuch.

I have six invitations for Gmail. Please leave a comment with your email address if you'd like a gmail account.

Tennis - Navratilova marks singles return with easy victory

A question of faith

The recent UN report on WMDs in Iraq has all sorts of spin attached to it, depending on what parts you read, what parts you didn't. Some reports on what the UN came up with were more accurate than others but don't take it from me -- read the report yourself and judge for yourself.

My personal interest in this story stems from this misleading story published by the World Tribune News -- a story with a headline that's guaranteed to attract attention, but with no actual content to back up the headline. But yet, it made the airwaves, specifically on Rush Limbaugh's show, where he trumpted on air that "There’s a piece in the World Tribune today—one of the papers in the United Kingdom—exactly as theorized on this program early on," he said on his radio show. "It’s unconfirmed, but it’s a story that many of the weapons of mass destruction are at present buried in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon."

I did a little more of my own digging on the World Tribune since in general, for a news organization, it seems rather shoddy and haphazard work. To slap such a wrong headline on a story is nothing short of irresponsible and perpetuates the idea that media is biased. Yes, there is very much a liberal slant to most media, but news flash: conservatives do it too. You can read more about what the World Tribune really is here, but in general, just poke around a little bit and you'll see that even the National Enquirer is a more reliable source of information.

But. Back to Rush. On his website, he had transcripts of the phone calls he took regarding the above article (unfortunately the transcript has disappeared off the front page and I'm not masochistic enough to become a member of Rush's fan club and look for it -- you'll just have to take it on faith that I'm accurately reporting here) and one caller said re the article that the liberals won't believe it until they get an exact address of where the WMDs are.

And I had to stop right there. Did they actually read the article or just the headline? And in response to the caller's snide comments about the unbelieving liberals, my response is, So what? When you declare war on another sovereign nation based on a certain intelligence and perceived threat, when you pre-emptively do so without the support of much of the world community, when you embark on a mission that will eventually cost hundreds of American lives and thousands of Iraqi lives, what is so wrong with demanding proof? Must we always believe our politicians, regardless of party affiliation, and take it on blind faith? Or rather, as members of a democracy, isn't it our right and obligation to demand the facts and explanations?

A friend once told me he believed the president because the president has intelligence we don't have access to. That very well may be the truth, but given the high cost, given the questions raised, what is the president waiting for? For George W. Bush, he could shut up a whole bunch of yappering liberals and handily win re-election if he just showed us the proof. The fact that more people were concerned about the cigar affair Clinton had the bad judgement to enter into and not the blood price being paid on Iraqi soil is nothing short of stunning. If we can say that having an affair with an intern and lying to one's wife and child makes for a lousy president, what do we say about a president who tells a story that costs more than just hurt feelings? Who do we hold accountable and why is it wrong to not do so?

There will always be the 'left' truth and the 'right' truth and what we really need is somewhere is in the middle. Each type requires a certain amount of blind faith and allegience to the standard bearer. Sometimes though, it's good to break away and ask. And more importantly, read beyond the headlines and do some of your own research. You'll be surprised what turns up when it's no longer just a matter of faith.

Does Your Vote Count?

This google toolbar makes it way to easy to blog on the fly. Must. Be. Strong.

Virginia's New Jim Crow.

Harvard Professor: Liberal Media is No Myth -- this is the text of the Business Week article cited in the earlier entry (below) today.

The way of the media

I'm always interested in how media covers a particular story and what inherent bias there is in the story itself. Business Week had an interesting article about whether there is a leftist/liberal slant in the media and came away with the conclusion that yes, there is; in fact, my favorite news source, Newsweek, is possibly the most liberal out there. What was surprising about that article was that FOX News, considered the Bush cheerleading squad, isn't quite as conservative as people think it is. ABC News and The News Hour with Jim Lehrer were considered the most balanced news outlets out there, according to the article.

So what's this all leading up to? We all read what we want to read and we get the information our sources give us. We go for the comfort zone of not necessarily having our ideas challenged or the way we think questioned; consider it a media-sanctioned 'amen corner'. We can give ourselves a little pat on the back every time the media outlet of our choice validates our own opinions. There's no reason to question or dig deeper because hey, we got what we wanted to get, and voila, end of story. Another opinion and ingrained. The only way to get out of that is to spend the time to read numerous sources of news -- Google News makes it a lot easier because it collects news from around the world and you can read varying world opinion and why, oh why, is it such a bad thing to read opposing views every now and then? I do read conservative blogs/media just because I'm curious to know what's going on on 'the other side'.

Here's a good example of the difference between two outlets with very different slants and agendas. CNN's lead story's headline reads: 9/11 staff: No al Qaeda cooperation with Iraq. The World Tribune's lead story's headline reads: U.S. wants armed security guards for Olympics team. Which is true? Which story is more accurate? Who knows? I like CNN because it agrees with me and so I feel validated -- no link and hence, I stop right there. ETA: Even FOX News is carrying this story prominently on its front page.

It's interesting that we need the 9/11 commission to issue a report on this after Cheney and Bush both said not too long ago that there was no link between Iraq and Saddam. Yet 75 percent of Americans persist in believing that was a link. You can't have it both ways -- one or the other side of the media is lying and we'll always believe it's the other side -- the conservatives accuse the liberals of covering up the ties, the liberals accuse the conservaties of creating ties. Me myself, I prefer the World News which reported a couple months ago that Saddam and Osama are actually lovers -- now there's a story I can get behind!

Just something to think about.

TIME.com: Meet Joe Blog -- Jun. 21, 2004

Whee! CNN.com - Yahoo e-mail battles Google's Gmail - Jun 15, 2004. And this comes after my 'everything' move to gmail. Maybe it's time to reconsider moving some stuff back to Yahoo.

Things that annoy me

Because it's been that kind of day. In no particular order.

1. Drivers who treat parking lots and parking garages as their personal Indy 500.

2. People who double-dip. You break off a piece of bread/chip, dip, eat, and then you take a clean bread/chip, dip, eat. See how easy this is?

3. Hitting every single red light on a 5-mile stretch of road, especially when there is no traffic.

4. Thongs hanging out over the waist band of jeans. Please. Only one person managed to successfully carry off the underwear on the outside of her clothes thing. You are not her.

5. Very private Top Sekrit cell phone conversations carried out in public. TJ Maxx? Not the place to break up with your boyfriend. Seriously. Don't do it. Yes, he might be an idiot, but we think you're one too.

6. Chairs reclining all the way on an airplane so that suddenly my drink is in my lamp and a perfect stranger's head is in kissable distance. Why, hello there.

7. The common cold. Seriously. Not quite the plague but just as evil and debilitating.

8. Running out of toothpaste when you have no spare toothpaste.

9. Companies with no idea of customer service when you are paying them monthly for a service that they cannot successfully carry out on a month-to-month timeline.

10. 100 percent humidity.

As my crankiness persists, I reserve the right to further update this list with More Things that Annoy Me (tm). You are welcome to share your personal grievances/annoyances with me as well. I'm just in that kind of whiney, ranting mood. Why yes, you should back away from the crazy girl; try not to make any quick movements.

Link number two: Broadcasting the personal. Amen.

Being Bilingual Could Protect Your Brain.

What's for dinner?

A better question would be, what's not for dinner? With 4+ hours suddenly erased from my week due to my class starting up this week, I dragged myself to the grocery store in preparation. Mind you, I'm still infected with the plague and muscles I didn't know I had are screaming in agony. But a girl has to eat, so off to the grocery store I went and when I came back, I made the following items:

• Marinated mushrooms
  
• Oriental green beans
  
• Gazpacho soup
  
• Feta cheese and potato patties
  
• Red onion and goat cheese pastries
  
• Tomato & Mozarella pasta
  

I had also planned to make an apple pie and red onion and pepper fusilli but I ran out of steam at that point. I won't be back home until close to 10 pm tomorrow night, and given that I'm still infected with the plague, I probably won't get around to the fusilli and the pie until Tuesday night. It really depends on how the other things I made hold up -- if I can get to Thursday without running out of food, I'll be very, very happy.

If any of you would like the recipes for any of the above, please let me know and I'll post them -- am too tired to blog them now -- but the soup and the mushrooms are both served cold and are perfect for hot weather. For the pasta, the tomato and mozarella 'sauce' can be made ahead of time and can be marinated -- just mix it in with the pasta hot off the stove whenever you like. The red onion and goat cheese pastries are super easy and super light and super tasty -- phyllo dough is the bestest substance on the planet, I've decided.

Gazpacho is an acquired taste, and I like mine pretty well pureed, but my blender refused to work today, so instead it was rather chunky -- still, it's perfect for a hot summer. I had the most trouble with the potato patties because I steamed the green beans over the same pot I was boiling the potatoes in -- except I didn't let the potatoes boil long enough, so I ended up having to microwave the potatoes to soften them up and then mashed them with my fingers; the leftover goat cheese went into the potatoes as well as the feta, but it all seems to have worked out just fine.

And now, for the second time this week, it's bed before 10 pm. Though, still later than last week, when I hit the sack around 8:15. Now that's early. And on that note, good night, moon.

Splitsville

As a corollery to Wedding Bells, I give you Rush's third divorce. File this one under 'ironic'. I guess if you have the right to get married as many times as you want to, as long as it's the person of the opposite gender, there's no harm done in getting tired of one spouse and trying on another. One of these days, Rush and J. Lo should hook up and exchange war stories on how they turned marriage into a hobby, rather than a lifelong thing.

Wedding bells

I'm always pleasantly surprised by people's consideration for other's people's time, so I'm extremely grateful to the Chortler for coming up with a J. Lo Wedding Tracker. You no longer have to depend on moi for J. Lo updates -- go there and the Chortler will tell you exactly who she's married to at any given moment in time. For instance, the time now is 10:17A.M. and Jennifer Lopez is currently married to LARRY KING. So now you know.

Spin doctors

I was pointed in the direction of this article this evening with the headline trumpeting "UN inspectors: Saddam shipped out WMD before war and after." I was able to immediately discount the article based on my status as a card-carrying bleeding heart liberal but it was a misspelling (Destionations) that really did me in -- politics aside, I cannot take a journalistic organization seriously if they cannot even spell the word 'destinations' -- because obviously, if it hadn't rated on google news, how could it possibly be true?

After much searching, I did find some more articles on the issue here. What fascinated me was the spin. In the World Tribune article, it says Saddam was shipping out the WMD components before the war began last summer and continued to do during the war. However, the World Tribune article also says Perricos also reported that inspectors found Iraqi WMD and missile components shipped abroad that still contained UN inspection tags.. In other words, the stuff we already knew about. As my boss would say, that's not news if we already knew about it. Reading other articles on the subject which show up on google news seem to make it clear that this exporting of WMD components has been actively taking place over the last year -- under US watch -- from unguarded and unsecured locations in Iraq.

A story from Pakistan says Perricos briefed the Security Council on his recent report that showed satellite pictures of the engines discovered in the Netherlands and a site in Iraq stripped of its equipment, possibly by looters. To me, it sounds as if the World Tribune is trying to make a tenuous tie between Saddam and looters, ignoring the fact Saddam was probably way too busy crawling from spider hole to spider hole to export metal out of Iraq. The Indianapolis Star reports Equipment and material that could have been used to produce banned weapons and long-range missiles have been removed from Iraqi sites since the war started and shipped abroad, the head of the U.N. inspectors office told the Security Council on Wednesday.

Since the war started. Key words to note. Who knows what Saddam was doing with his WMD program before while under the watch of the UN, but since the US has kicked the UN inspectors out in March of 2003, who's keeping an eye on the WMD potpurri? Aren't we ostensibly over there to make the world a safer place to be and meanwhile, WMD components marked with UN tags are being hustled across the border and sent to the Netherlands (among other places) under the eyes of the liberators themselves?

I'll concede Iraq and Saddam had the components to make WMDS at some point in time, but is that enough to pre-emptively declare war on another sovereign nation? Especially if the World Tribune is right and they were being dismantled and shipped around the world in the early part of 2003 -- if the WMDs were dismantled, then Saddam did what he was supposed to do and we had no right to go in there and kick him out of power, no matter how big a beastie he was. You can't go into another country pre-emptively saying, "Oh, he's got WMDs" and come out saying, "We're liberators and we've saved people from Saddam." Great. Now if it's saving the world from the classroom bully we're so keen on these days, I humbly submit that perhaps the Sudanese would appreciate some liberation as well.

We'd be hard-pressed to find a direct threat to our security from Saddam's regime, considering that Saddam probably had higher priority targets on his hit list than the Americans. In truth, the only people who really needed to fear Saddam's WMDs were the ones who lived under his tyrannical rule -- the Kurds -- and also his neighbors, the Iranians and the Kuwaitis. We ought to be more afraid of the Saudi Arabians, where most of the 9/11 hijackers came from. We ought to be more afraid of North Korea, which is ruled by a crazy dictator who admittedly has nuclear weapons and WMDs, but we can't win a conflict with North Korea, nor does North Korea have oil. If you're going to pick a fight with a bully, it makes sense to pick one you can beat up easily and figure out the reasons for throwing the first punch after the fact and hope no one notices.

New neighbors

In this age of rather sterile "who the heck lives next door to me?", I've taken to identifying inhabitants in my complex with the vehicles and/or pets they own. For instance, I was quite familiar with the big beautiful dog who lived across the way until recently, but never saw his (her?) owner ever. And now, a Hummer has moved into our complex.

The Hummer is all black, and is huge; I imagine someone of my size would need a ladder to get into it -- the size you find on a fire-truck will probably do the trick. It literally takes up two spots on the first floor of the garage; while the owner is inconsiderate enough to drive a tank in the face of rising gas prices, I do have to give him (her?) props for a) parking on the ground floor so the weight of the Black Beast doesn't crush all the cars on lower levels and b) for parking next to the often stinky dumpster since no one else wants to park there.

Still, I can't help but wonder what possibly must be going on in the owner's mind that he (she?) feels the need to drive around the city in a hummer? Granted, this isn't Mr. Rogers' neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination, but I didn't think it was so bad that even going to Target these days required such armament! Every time I drive past that vehicle (we-HICK-cahl in the military) on my way to work, I wonder what exactly does the owner do in his (her?) spare time that necessitates a hummer? Since it's hopefully not to make trips to Target, I'm forced to concoct romantical adventures of the swashbucking and bodice-ripping variety -- though with more leather and steel than your standard romance novel allows for.

One option is that Hummer!Owner is searching out various potholes, traffic jams, and closed intersections. In cases like this, it makes total sense that this person needs a Hummer -- intersections are quite frequently closed here for traffic, usually at major highway interchanges -- and driving over the cars in your way would be a good way to get out of such a pickle; in fact, it's probably something the emergency service workers ought to try. I know I'd feel a lot safer if I was being driven to the hospital in a tank rather than a tin can. Probably get there faster too.

The other option is that Hummer!Owner is interested in covert operations, though how you can be stealthy sneaky in a hummer is beyond my comprehension. I suspect if indeed Hummer!Owner is in covert operations, he (she) works at night. I deduce this because the hummer is black, not camuflauge, in color, and beyond that, we don't have much in the way of trees in this part of the world -- well, except where the rich people live, but that's another story entirely. So if you're going to be sneaky, I'm not sure the Hummer is the way to go, but it's one explanation -- the armor is certainly there.

Plus, the Hummer is always there when I leave for work around 8:50 am, so this also leads me to believe that either a) Hummer!Owner sleeps in because he (she) has been saving our city from either Those Who Walk In the Dark or Potholes/Traffic James, or b) Hummer!Owner is completely depressed by rising gasoline prices and realizes that he (she) has to take out a small loan every time he (she?) wants to drive the tank around.

Your thoughts on why people would drive a Hummer are greatly appreciated. And if you tell me to go to Target or Wal-Mart, I'm going to hurt you. Anyone who has the money to spend on a gas guzzling Hummer really ought to be shopping at say, Tiffany's or Saks Fifth Avenue. I'm just sayin'.

Write about it

I just wrote an email to Colgate Oral Care about their new toothpaste completely decimating my mouth, wah! This is not the first time this has happened and A. very kindly suggested I should start writing down the names of toothpastes I have allergic reactions to so I do not buy the the toothpaste again. Currently, my symptoms include botox-style lips, tiny tiny ulcers all over my mouth, and skin burned off my newly enlarged lips. I have switched back to regular Colgate; if the past is any indication, it'll take about a week for this situation to heal. In the meantime, I've discovering that eating and drinking is my new form of masochism -- nothing like a burning tingle every time you eat a piece of bread or drink wine!

Home sweet home

So I'm back! I'll give further details about the Boston Meander of 2004 at another time, but suffice it to say, I wandered my way through the cow paths -- in 10-inch platform shoes, no less -- and still managed to avoide getting smushed by the T. I also had the honor of meeting the Mac, which undoubtedly would be the highlight of any trip to Beantown.

However, it's getting home that's interesting because that's when you find out what's been going on while you were incommunicado. I was feeling sorry for J. Lo because of her break-up with Ben Affleck, but I shouldn't have worried -- J. Lo has gotten married again and this time to singer Marc Anthony. And oooh, there are reports of Baby Lopez too. Wedding pictures, for the curious, are here. Don't worry about not being able to see J. Lo's face clearly or at all in these photographs and don't despair that her wedding cake-style dress is not described in enough detail to get one of your own; wait six months, and no doubt, Jenny from the Block will be giving nupital bliss a fourth go around. Lucky for Jennifer Lopez, three strikes and you're out doesn't seem to apply to marriage.

Leaving on a jet plane

Jemima wants to know, "Is planning with Seema always this complex?" The answer is yes, but tentatively I have plans. It's all still complicated and messy in my head because nothing can be simple, not in Seema!world. That being said, I'm really looking to get away this weekend and just forget about stuff. My stuff and me will be wandering around Boston for the next few days. Your regularly scheduled blog programming will resume on Tuesday evening.

Good things come...

So right, the apartment odyssey is officially over and not a minute too soon. I was really, really looking forward to some good news, and just having something good happen, y'know? And I came home today, fully prepared to cough up the increased rent amount and voila, note on my door and voice mail on my machine -- they are renewing me at the same rate I've been paying for the last nine months! Whoohooo! I so didn't expect that considering just how far below market value I am, but they came through.

So glad I waited, so glad I didn't jump the gun and sign another lease on Saturday at one of the less superior apartments. And also, so glad I didn't get a free moment yesterday to call up and say I'd rent at the higher rate for 6 months. By waiting, this all paid off handsomely. Very, very nice and I'm thrilled to pieces -- I love my apartment and I love my area; I had no idea how much until I was forced to look around and just see how lucky I was. More importantly, I don't have to move in the month of July. This, my friends, is big.

And now, I must sleep, because I'm no longer as young as I once was and staying up all night (seriously) and then finally deciding to try and sleep at 6 am only to wake up at 7:30 to go to work -- well, it's not quite the lifestyle I can handle these days. It's all Rocky's fault (tm).

Lost in translation

Tonight was my placement test. I was actually pretty calm going into it, even when they handed me the 60-question examen and then said there would be an oral en francais component. I figured that the oral would be a piece of cake, that I'd stumbled on the written part. For, you see, writing in French has never been my strong suit. I managed to avoid grammar for my last two years in high school by going into the literature track. Which means I can read 16th century French lit and speak well, but cannot write to save my life.

Well, it was the exact opposite. I did fine on the reading and better than I expected on the written part. The meltdown came during the oral part of the examination. I lost it about thirty seconds after Madame said bonjour and it was all downhill from there. It was frankly quite embarassing. Especially the part where I couldn't remember the word for brother. ::facepalm:: The word for sister? Right there at the very tip of my tongue, but not brother -- frère, yes, yes, I've got it now, but what good does it do me now? If I'd had half a brain, I would have invented a soeur on the spot.

Trust me. It gets worse. Much worse.

I couldn't remember the word for 'little'. Couldn't remember 'petit' to save my life -- I was fixated on the same word in another language. Every time I tried to come up with a word, this other language which I most recently heard yesterday came to the forefront and gained ascendency over poor French. Madame was staring at me in a mixture of horror and pity. I thought about talking about the war of languages in my head, that one language was fighting for supremacy over the other and was winning, but then she'd think I was psycho and I'd end up kicked out of the program and across the street at the World Famous Medical Center (tm), with a padded room to call my own and a wardrobe entirely consisting of white garments with lots of buckles being the uniform du jour. See? I can so come up with the right words not under pressure. ::nods::

I honestly think it should be okay, in foreign language classes, to substitute words from other languages at a moment's notice when the right language doesn't come to mind. I'm just sayin'. The results come out on Friday, I think, and I'm a little pensive about what it all will mean.

It was... so not good.