"Behold, good Cabinet Maker, the ancient and mysterious forest! I command you, turn this into a fine dining room set! Upholster the chairs in red leather, and I'd like real leaded glass panes in the curio cabinet."

"Ummm..."

"Here, take this screwdriver and paint brush. You'll need these to screw the boards together and of course to spread the polyurethane after you sand and stain everything. No too much, though. Matte finish, please. I will leave you to your work." He leans over and pushes me out of the truck, closes the door tips his hat, then drives away with a truck full of tools and Joe, the lumberjack, who's dozing in the back seat.

"Ummm... Really? OK. What?"

I stare at the wall of trees and vines for a week. Eventually, the barest outlines of plan start to form: I must find dry wood on the ground to build a fire, find rocks, iron ore, smelt it, fashion a saw of sorts, maybe a dozen different saws, etc.. The more I think about it, the more confused I become; I am astounded at the scope. I'll need to find and cut down hardwoods, saw them into boards. Build a lathe, a chemistry bench, formulate a stain, re-invent polymers, produce polyurethane in quantity. Make nails, screws, glue, glass, sandpaper. I sigh. I try a few times to throw the screwdriver just right so it sticks in the ground.

This project will take many years. I have a month. I call my boss to ask for assistance. "Do you really want abalone shell inlay? Where do I get that?"

"From the ocean."

"Is there an ocean nearby?"

"Of course there's a ocean nearby. It's on the other side of the forest. Once you've cleared a road through the trees, paved it, and installed street lights, you'll be able to tow your boat out to the lake."

"Boat?"

"Yes, a small one should do. I figure you'll have enough lumber leftover - look how many trees there are! Oh, GPS might be useful too. Your choice, though. Whatever you think is best. Anyway, you need to cross the lake, sail north 60 miles then through the channel with the whirlpool. Or is it south? Whichever, just look for the volcano. Once you get past the whirlpool, you'll see a fishing village. Win the trust of the tribal chief, marry his daughter. When your first child is born, offer it to the god of the volcano. At sunrise the next day, the sun will appear atop a distant mountain peak. The ocean is just beyond a desert on the other side of that mountain."

"Ummm..."

"Just holler if you need some help. I'll be on the beach with Joe."

An interesting read, if you're an atheist. I imagine it would be quite infuriating if you're not.

The name Iran means "Land of Aryans":

Etymology of Iran is [ir(ayr) + an]. ir/ayr is the root of the word arya/ayria, meaning "noble, high, free-spirited" and the an at the end is suffix of location in Persian, as in Gilan, Isfahan, Tehran, Ardakan, Khorasan, Azarbaijan, Gorgan, ..... and literary hundreds of city and village names in Iran. It means "Land of Aryans".

That is all.

The Mechanical Contrivium Has this to say about Cleek:

Once you have this:

President Bush did a town hall-type appearance in Louisville, Kentucky today. He was unbelievably good, as was the audience. You can read it all here. Please, please do. Here are a few excerpts, but they can't begin to capture the sincerity and the compelling logic that President Bush put forward.

...

George W. Bush is Churchill's heir in our century.

...and this:

It must be very strange to be President Bush. A man of extraordinary vision and brilliance approaching to genius, he can't get anyone to notice. He is like a great painter or musician who is ahead of his time, and who unveils one masterpiece after another to a reception that, when not bored, is hostile.

How long till we get this?

MP3s: Nixon, Carter, Kennedy

(comments closed due to spam)

The Eagle_Fire Garfield Randomizer shows three randomly-chosen cells from Garfield comics. The results sometimes read like they've been translated to and from another language - and the punch line didn't survive. Sometimes they are so disjointed that it's like a little Surrealist play. And sometimes they feel like Doonsebury - maybe there's a joke there, but I just don't see it.

It's fun. But I still prefer Savage Chickens.

Bush: 'If some tinhorn terrorist wants me, tell him to come and get me! I'll be at home! Waiting for the bastard!'

Secret Service chief: 'But Mr. President . . .'

Bush: 'Try Commander-in-Chief. Whose present command is: Take the President home!'

(from DC 9/11)

(repost)

Arrggg! Defective Yeti linked to Grow Cube, and I wasted an hour.

It's a puzzle game. Your task is to find out how the various items interacts with the world, and add them to the Cube in the correct order. It's hard.

Behold the horror of this bill, currently before the Missouri State Senate SB763:

SB-763: This act prohibits any grocery store or convenience store from selling individually packaged beer or beer that is refrigerated below 60 degrees on the premises. The Supervisor of the Division of Alcohol and Tobacco Control may suspend or revoke a license for any violation of this provision.

The goal is to reduce drunk driving. Apparently, the idea is that nobody will want to drink warm beer from the store, so they'll have to take it home and spend an hour waiting for it to get cold, first.

Fine. But sometimes you buy a six-pack, take it home, and want a beer straightaway - you don't want to wait an hour for it to get cold. And just think of what that would do to the traditional Beer Run!