Kitten Update

I just realized that it's been exactly five months since I revealed to the world that I got a kitten. Which means that I've let exactly five months go by without giving an update. This must be remedied immediately.

In that post, I mentioned the little guy's boundless energy and the toll it was taking on my ability to sleep. It wasn't long before every cat owner I knew was telling me, "You know, kittens do better in pairs. They take their energy out on each other rather than on you." And after just one week of sleepless nights, I was ready to try anything. So I called up the adoption place and begged for mercy. The nice lady informed me that if I adopt a litter mate, the fee is half off for the second beast. I told her to get her shoes on 'cause I was on my way over. Within an hour, I was bringing home my fuzzball's little sister.

I would soon find out that putting the two together would take a load of stress off of me, but that relief would have to wait a bit. I got home and practically bounded to my door with the pet carrier to reunite the siblings. I opened the door and called out, "Hey, buddy, I'm home!" and he came running to greet me. I hadn't turned lights on yet, and in the dim room, it looked like he was bringing me something he had found. And he had found something alright. As he got close to the open door, I could see that he had a fishing lure dangling from his lip. I don't know how he found my fishing pole, but he did, and there was my lure. And the funny thing was that the little doofus was completely oblivious that he had been pierced. He almost seemed proud of his new adornment. He looked up at me and mewed as if to say, "Check out what I did today!"

Sigh.

I got the wire cutters to cut the barb off, but holding him still enough to cut through it was at least a two-hand task, leaving me no hands to snip with. Again, oblivious to his predicament, he didn't squirm out of pain, he just wanted to go play. So I called my sister and bro-in-law (who only knew about the first kitten) and asked if they could help me with "something." I loaded both animals in the carrier and went over to sis's apartment. I started explaining about the fish hook and opened the carrier and he bounded out, as curious as ever. A few moments later, the second kitty slowly crept out as well, and there was rejoicing all around.





It took all six hands to subdue the little guy long enough for me to clip the barb off the hook and pull it from his mouth. As you can hear me saying in the second video, one of the other barbs on the treble hook cut his upper lip too. But he didn't care. As soon as it was out, he was bounding around the room like an idiot with his new playmate.

Finally, it was time to name the little rascals. Personally, I thought that Knock It Off and Get Down From There suited them perfectly, but for the sake of their veterinary records, proper names were in order. So I'd like you meet Mojo, the boy cat, and Presley, the wee lass. Mojo is a gray tabby whose name came from a commercial for the Transformers movie. Bone Junior got naming rights for Presley, only because she insisted on naming something of mine and I refused to let her name my car (I think naming cars is as stupid as dressing your pets), and didn't want to name the boy Elvis. Her vet papers say that she is a Diluted Tortiseshell, which is quite true, even though this picture makes her look more like some type of bat.

In the past 5 months, they've chewed on my blinds, gotten shots, peed on my laundry, chewed through expensive audio cable, purred on my lap, gotten their reproductive organs removed, scarred my flesh, and warmed my heart. And peed on my laundry again. I'm kinda sad that they hardly look like kittens anymore, but they've definitely calmed down some, and I'll be glad when they're completely lazy old farts like me.



More pictures here.

Here, kitty kitty!

There is a dual joy in having kittens. Part of it is that they can be so darn cute, and the other part is that they can be so darn stupid.

Overheard at Lunch

A couple of days ago, I was eating lunch and overheard what has to be the stupidest thing I've heard someone say in a long time.

"I think I'm going to start smoking again."

Now, just take a moment and digest the content of that proclamation. From such a short sentence, one can deduce that this person has been a smoker in the past and had taken the steps necessary to kick the habit. Then, after a period of not being stinky, this person had carefully weighed the pros and cons and come to the conclusion that living life was much better in a cloud of noxious fumes.

Naturally, my curiosity had been piqued and I went from accidentally overhearing to full fledged eavesdropping. This person continued, "It's really good for reducing stress, and I'll lose some weight too." Yeah, that's sound logic. As though there aren't things that can reduce stress and help you lose weight without giving you cancer!

Feist - 1 2 3 4

The latest CD from Feist has been keeping my headphones pretty warm lately, so it's about time I share the love.

I'm not a huge fan of music videos, but every once in a while, one comes along that's brilliantly executed. This is one of those videos. Enjoy!

One Smart Cookie

Look, ma! I'm gonna be smart!

Covered in Nast

Ah, what a productive day. I just got done taking my keyboard apart and cleaning the nast off of each key. It wasn't horribly gross, but it needed to be done.

Other than that it's been pretty quiet around here. I just hope that doesn't have anything to do with my own little cloud I've been sitting in, like my buddy Brak here:

Zoom Zoom

One word that I have never written on a check is "thousand."

Until today, that is.

The iPhone, as it should be

I'm so freakin' sick of the iPhone. I even get nauseated just typing its name. Sure, it's pretty and shiny and does lots of nifty stuff, just like the popular kids from school. But as Ani DiFranco once sang, "everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room."

But you didn't come here to hear me rant about why I think that the iPhone is just a blonde bimbo with a black soul. Instead, appease your destructo-lust and watch the prettiest girl in the room get her just desserts (you can see the black soul escape at 58 1/2 seconds into the video).


Wasn't that fun? Thanks, Tom. Keep up the good work.

[Link: WillItBlend.com]

Dressed to the Nines

The Rules believes that dressing one's pets is a surefire way to declare one's insanity. But if you're going to let the world know that you're nuts, might as well go out with a bang:


[via Gizmodo]

Gravity Reversal: Watch for Falling Prices

Walmart is a strange beast. It's like that guy at work who is annoying in a thousand different ways but is too useful not to keep around. I can't stand the messes on the shelves or the incompetence of the staff, and I keep going back. Part of it is that Walmart is open 24 hours, so I can make a grocery/DVD long after everyone else is closed. And it doesn't hurt that stuff there is so dadgummed cheap.

A few nights ago, a friend and I finished our bi-weekly Waffle House binge and decided to cap off our white trash evening and head over to Walmart to shop for stuff we didn't need. As we were cruising the electronics department, we were sucked in by the wall of flat panel TVs. Plasmas and LCDs of all sizes showing scuba divers and tropical fish in all their hi-def glory. It was all I could do to keep my buddy from buying one (or picking one up myself). A sexy little 19" model especially caught our eye, mostly because the $277 price tag meant that we both had enough in our checking accounts to pick one up. Granted, $277 is a bit much to drop on a TV that size, but the point is that it was within reach!

And then we leaned in closer to read the fine print and noticed something rather curious.


That's right. It was as if Walmart had hired a carnival barker to yell, "Hurr-ay, hurr-ay, step right up! Get yer LCD TV right here! Only $277! Used to be $267! Get 'em before the price goes up again!"

Farther down the shelf, there was another price tag boasting of a less-modest price increase.


Now, I know that Walmart stopped using their old slogan, "Watch for falling prices," but I didn't think they'd start going the other way!

Update: I sent these pics in to Consumerist.com, and they posted them here. Thanks guys!

Kittens: Bastiens of the Lonely

I must have finally gotten fed up with living alone, because this weekend I got a cat to keep me company. The original plan was to catch one of the kittens living in my friend's dad's barn, but trying to find feral kittens that didn't want to be found on a hot, sweaty, Texas afternoon turned out to be an exercise in futility. Fortunately, the kittens at the adoption center are much easier to catch (and they probably smell better, too).

These pictures don't do him justice. He looks so calm and peaceful, a pure joy to be around. Don't be fooled. I can only manage to snap a shot of him when he's sleeping, which seems to be about a third of the time. The other two thirds, he's running, pouncing, and playing with a fury that has to be seen to be believed. Of course, in true kitten fashion, it's play for two hours and then recharge for one. Lather, rinse, repeat. All. Night. Long.

Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. I mean, with a face like that, who wouldn't? When he frolics his way into the other room and realizes he can't see me anymore, he starts to meow as if to say, "Help! I'm lost!" and then comes running when I speak up to let him know where I am. And when he does sleep, he loves to be right at my side. Or on my chest, or shoulder, or head.

I'm not yet 100% decided on a name for him. In the confines of my own home, Dork, Doofus, and Goofball seem to work just fine, as he ignores them all equally. But I don't think I could keep a straight face when I tell the vet to put Dork on the chart, so I need to come up with something official. Right now I'm torn between Miles and Winchester.

Miles comes from Miles Davis. The jazz musician, not the self-wetting old lady from Billy Madison. As he was freaking out in the pet carrier on the car ride home, I put on some jazz and it seemed to mellow him out a bit. Granted, I was listening to Diana Krall, but a boy kitty named Diana? Puh-leeeease.

Winchester comes from the empty box of shotgun shells he decided to use as his bed after I unsuccessfully tried to get him to sleep on my lap last night. That, and the fact that as soon as I told the adoption lady which one I wanted, she said, "Oooh, he's a pistol!"

So if anybody wants to cast a vote or offer other suggestions (Bone Junior has already suggested combining the two to make Minchester), please do. And if you don't hear from me for a while, it's because having a 10-week-old kitten has sapped me of all my energy.

Update: Battle Cat and Cringer just got added to the list. At this rate, this kitty's never gonna get a name.

My Virgin Ears

Overheard in the elevator:

"Oh good. Now we won't have to see her underthings."

Fill 'Er Up, Please!

Over the past few days, I've received three copies of the following email from different individuals, proposing a one-day gas purchase boycott on May 15:

Don't pump gas on may 15th

In April 1997, there was a "gas out" conducted nationwide in protest of gas prices. Gasoline prices dropped 30 cents a gallon overnight.

On May 15th 2007, all internet users are to not go to a gas station in protest of high gas prices. Gas is now over $3.00 a gallon in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ American members currently on the internet network, and the average car takes about 30 to 50 dollars to fill up.

If all users did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take $2,292,000,000.00 (that's almost 3 BILLION) out of the oil companys pockets for just one day, so please do not go to the gas station on May 15th and lets try to put a dent in the Middle Eastern oil industry for at least one day.

If you agree (which I cant see why you wouldn't) resend this to all your contact list. With it saying, ''Don't pump gas on May 15th"

The logic behind this so-called boycott is so full of holes, it's amazing that versions of this email have continued to circulate for as many years as they have. Then again, a huge portion of those 73 million Americans on the "internet network" are gullible enough to accept as fact just about anything that gets forwarded to their inboxes.

First off, the claim that gas prices dropped thirty cents overnight after the "gas out" in 1997 is pure bunk. It did not happen. I don't even need to check any history books to back up my claim because it could not have happened. Not unless the laws of economics took a one day trip to Bizarro Land, that is. Let me explain.

It is true that at current gas prices, a tank of gas could cost from thirty to fifty dollars or more. However, if you're like me, you usually only fill your tank once a week or so. The only way the oil industry would feel a $3 billion dollar hit from a one-day boycott would be if every one of the boycotters were currently in the habit of filling their cars with thirty to fifty dollars of gas every single day. In reality, those of you who choose not to fill up today will just end up filling up tomorrow, or the next day, or as soon as your tank gets empty. Just like you always do. The oil industry still gets paid.

That $3 billion figure is bogus as well. By some sort of fuzzy math, $2.3 billion got rounded up to an even $3 billion. At any rate, in order to reach it, all those 73 million internet-savvy Americans would have to participate in the boycott. But just because a gallon of gas costs $3 does not mean that $3 goes to the pockets of the oil companies. That $3 is split amongst the refineries, storage facilities, distribution chain, State, Federal and sales taxes, exploration for and production of new crude oil, and last (and definitely least), the gas retailers. So assuming that refining costs make up about 24% of the gasoline dollar and that people buy gas on average once every seven days instead of daily, the "hit" that the oil companies would take on a one-day gas boycott by 73 million Americans is actually more like $78 million. That may still seem like a big number, but don't forget that it must be further divided amongst all the oil companies, whether they be Middle Eastern, Venezuelan, or American. You chop $78 million into just a few pieces, and you're looking one company's daily advertising budget. Doesn't sound so impressive anymore, does it?

In order to put that $2.3 billion hurt on the oil companies, those 73 million Americans would have to fully dedicate themselves to the boycott not for one day, but for 35 weeks (or, if they really were buying a full tank of gas every day, 35 days). Still, I don't know anyone who can go without gas for a month, much less 35 weeks, do you?

The real people who would feel the hurt of a one-day gas boycott would be the other recipients of the pieces of that gasoline dollar. We sure don't want to hinder the exploration and production of new crude oil, because decrease in supply means higher prices. Putting financial strain on the storage and distribution companies will also force them to recoup their losses by...you guessed it...raising their prices. And while the efficiency of the tax system may be up for debate, the taxes we pay on gas are used for our benefit.

Sadly, those who would feel the strongest squeeze from a gas boycott would be the independent retailers. There are gas stations owned and operated by the oil companies themselves, but the majority of gas stations in America are privately owned. They buy gas at the going rate and resell it to the public, with little or no say in the price they hang on their marquees. Deliberately hurting your local businesses has noticeable effects on the local economy, which in turn comes back to bite you.

So if you're low on gas today, fill up. And if you're not, fill up when you are. Either way, don't believe the hype. You've been enlightened today, so rather than forwarding the boycott email, send your friends a link to this article instead.

Update: It was late when I wrote this post, and I did so before thinking to check Snopes.com, my favorite site for debunking the myths perpetuated by internet gossip. While my post is very similar to the article at Snopes, my writing is my own, and is the product of simple common sense coupled with facts found through a few minutes of research.

It is not my intent to take a holier-than-thou position. I may say that The Rules is always right, but anyone who knows me personally also knows that I do not take a firm stance on something unless I've made sure that that stance is upon a solid foundation.

I Wanna Rock!

While I'm working, I've got my whole music collection on shuffle, so it's like audio schizophrenia all day long. I love it. Today, the first song that came up was "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard, and I was instantly hit with memories of elementary-school summer days spent at the skating rink, trying to skate backwards to the beat of a one-armed drummer.

So great are those memories, that I hereby declare today as Hair Metal Thursday. So put some Poison in your playlist, grab your Guns N' Roses, put on your spandex and RATT out your hair, and just ROCK! You can see what I've been listening to in my Last.fm chart over there on the right. Let me know in the comments what you're listening to or what memories some old metal song brings back for you.

An Early Christmas Wish List

Just on the off-chance that one of you is thinking, "Hey, The Rules is a great guy, and I'd like to buy him something," may I suggest this.

Thank you.

Get a life, eh?

Every day it seems I come across something that makes me lose a little more faith in humanity. Sanjaya Malakar is one of them, but that's another post for another day. Today, it was the news of the Toronto Blue Jays commercial being banned by the Television Bureau of Canada because it depicts slugger Frank Thomas swatting one of his kids with a pillow in a pillow fight.

Yes. A pillow.

You can read all about it for yourself in The New York Times and form your own opinion, but it is The Rules' opinion that anyone who can't find the innocent humor in this ad has a black soul and eats puppies for lunch. I'm sure that Jim Patterson, president of the Television Bureau of Canuckdom, enjoys a Schnauzer on rye at least three times a week.

Which is exactly why I love YouTube. The TVB may not want you to see the ad, but I sure do. So feast your eyes on this wonderful piece of advertising genius (and leave the puppy feasting to the critics).



Update: If any of you want to let Jim Patterson know that his verdict regarding this ad is hogwash, you can email him at the address I found on this page of the TVB's website. And please, be civil. You don't want a black soul too.

Quirkless Quirkleby

For the record, I have no quirks. I am completely quirkless. And before any of you try to argue that, "Nuh uh, you do too have quirks! I've seen em," please take into account that the quirks in question are those of the person for whom I am an alter ego. He's a quirked-up mess.

That's one of the benefits of being an alter ego. You get to decide exactly who or what you want to be. You get to embrace the people you like and rebuke those you don't. It's an amazing little way to live life. It's really quite cool. Plus, as an alter ego, you get to do all kinds of things that normal people can only dream of doing.

For example, some of you may be wondering why I haven't posted in over a month. The truth of the matter is that I've been out pillaging, and loving it so much that posting hasn't seemed very exciting. Then again, not too many things are as exciting as pillaging. In this day and age, pillaging has become somewhat of an elite form or recreation. I mean, who really gets to pillage anymore? Not normal people, that's for sure. Maybe maniacs and heathens will pillage on occasion, but the rest of the sane world usually stops them before they get too far. No way could they ever enjoy a solid month of unrestricted plunder. (I have not, mind you, been doing any raping, because that's just wrong even if you are a made-up person. The Rules does not endorse raping of any kind.)

So you see, if you're looking for quirks, you won't find any here, so go find them on other people's blogs (although, given my limited readership, you probably already have). And don't worry, I haven't given up posting. In fact, I've got a few super special posts in the works. So sit tight and stay tuned, because The Rules rules. Yes.

Personal Hygiene: An Introspective

Just one of the many hilarious videos I found last night while not watching the Mediocre Bowl.

A Sickness Haiku

Mucus flows freely
I pray for solid boogers
Please send more Puffs Plus

One Word

Hasenpfeffer