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Preview: The Shadow Government Ltd.: Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else

The Shadow Government Ltd.: Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else





Last Build Date: Sun, 24 Oct 2004 20:23:22 GMT

Copyright: Copyright 2004 The Shadow Government Ltd.
 



On Our Way Back

Sun, 24 Oct 2004 20:23:02 GMT

On Our Way Back

We stopped at a rest area on the Parkway to get some coffee. When we came out there was a woman screaming for help saying that she couldn't wake her husband in the back of her car. He'd been throwing up and had laid down because he wasn't feeling well. Apparently, she'd been unable to wake him for about 10 minutes. We called for an ambulance and my brother-in-law found a paramedic who just happened to be in the fast food restaurant. He started CPR until the ambulance came. I don't think the guy made it. He seemed to have been dead for a while before the woman tried to wake him. I don't think I ever felt so helpless watching the EMT's work on him with his wife screaming and pleading all the while. I didn't know what to say or do for her. It just makes you think.

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.




My New Look

Wed, 20 Oct 2004 00:23:13 GMT

My New Look

I was getting tired of the old design, especially the color. I decided to go in the opposite direction and brighten up the look of this weblog. I think that the next step will be to change the name. I haven't been happy with The Thoughts of Hondonius Aurelius for a while now. It just goes to show you that you shouldn't pick your blog's name after drinking too many pints of ale. I'm also thinking of moving this blog to a different service, maybe TypePad, when my Radio Userland subscription is up in December.

Now, off to another Yankee vs. Red Sox cliffhanger.

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.




Playing Catch Up

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 03:19:59 GMT

Playing Catch Up

I haven't had any time to post or even to keep up with the blogs that I usually read. My wife just had gall bladder surgery which was complicated by the fact that she does not tolerate anesthesia very well. In fact, when she had our son by c-section her breathing and her heart stopped. That's why we went to New York Presbyterian for this surgery and got a top notch anesthesist. She's been in a lot of pain recently because she can't take the usually post-op pain killers either. But, she's getting better day by day and will be her old self in no time.

I also want to send a get well to Lauren who I see just had some surgery of her own.

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.




Progression

Sun, 05 Sep 2004 21:50:22 GMT

Progression

"There is no steady unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed gradations, and at the last one pause: -- through infancy's unconscious spell, boyhood's thoughtless faith, adolescence' doubt, (the common doom), then scepticism, then disbelief, resting at last in manhood's pondering repose of If."
-- Herman Melville, Moby Dick

File under
Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.



A Feeble Attempt

Thu, 02 Sep 2004 23:23:23 GMT

A Feeble Attempt

In a feeble and shamless attempt to have this weblog banned at Panera, I offer the following from the Scotsman:

IT’S a scientific fact: human brains are programmed for orgasms - with or without the actual sex act.

Perhaps nobody listening to football commentators will be surprised by the news, claimed to have been proven by one of the lecturers at this week’s Orkney International Science Festival. Dr Robert Lomas - a solid-state physicist and an internationally known author on religious symbolism - says that evolution has allowed humans to develop the sex-free orgasm.

"It’s the same reward mechanism that encourages us to share our DNA," said Dr Lomas. "But it can be achieved without the physical act of copulation."

Only humans have this power to induce mental ecstasy, and it’s a complex set of responses that can be achieved by learned behavioural patterns or triggered by hyper-arousal during peak experiences, he says.

"At times of hyper-arousal, our brains are designed to freeload on the behavioural reward that encourages us to reproduce," he said. "And that is another name for orgasm."

File under SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.



Garden State of Mind

Sat, 28 Aug 2004 04:30:50 GMT

Garden State of Mind


My wife and I checked out Zach Braff's brilliant film Garden State tonight. If it's playing near you, go out and see it. It's going to be a tough act to follow for him.

Don't expect to hear any Springsteen or see any scenes filmed at the Jersey Shore though. Not one scene in the Paramus Park mall either, though there is a funny reference to an unbuilt mall.

Well worth the price of admission.

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.



More Bang For The Buck

Wed, 25 Aug 2004 01:10:01 GMT

More Bang For The Buck


I'll bet that Frank J. can't wait to get his hands on one of these:


   (image)

File under Once You've Got Them By The Balls Their Hearts and Minds Will Follow Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.



Duke William Gates?

Wed, 18 Aug 2004 12:08:04 GMT

Duke William Gates? No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince or foreign State. U.S. Constitution, Article I, Section 9. Ben Stein has a revolutionary, or maybe counterrevolutionary, way to help the rich accomplish their desire for others to know they're rich and to help the U.S. government pay off its debt: have the government start issuing titles of nobility, for a sum. In ancient times, kings gave out such titles in return for loyalty in wars or heroism in combat or some service to the state. Times have changed. Now, in Britain, our close cousin and good comrade in arms, titles of nobility are - and long have been - handed out for gifts of money to the ruling political party. So many of these were given by brewing magnates that Burke's Peerage, the main registry of nobility, came to be called "Burke's Beerage." This may be changing in the "Cool Britannia" of Tony Blair, but the basic principle still applies. Here in the United States, the government can take ordinary multimillionaires - shopping-center owners, oilwell owners, real estate developers and plastic surgeons - and suddenly lift them above the peasants waiting in line at Alain Ducasse or trying to get a ticket to a Broadway opening. Suddenly, a Joe Blow who developed a skin-care line that sells and is a nobody in Biloxi can - for, say, $10 million - be Baronet Blow of Biloxi, entitled to the homage that a title brings. Dr. Morton Cooperman, orthodontist to the stars' children in Beverly Hills, can for $5 million be Sir Morton of Crescent Drive. [T]he really big titles, like duke, will go for, say, a billion dollars - chump change to a Microsoft zillionaire. From then on, he can join an incredibly select few who can call themselves dukes - and whose wives can ask for hair appointments for Duchess Ballmer of Seattle. A title of marquess may cost $50 million, and earl, say, $10 million, and maybe lowly millionaires can become knights for just that paltry mill. Of course, Ben assures us that this would not give the new nobility any special legal rights: There would not be a House of Lords, for example. We already have the United States Senate, a very rich man's club. This system would sell just prestige, but on a huge scale. I think that Ben is on to something here. From the NY Times [free registration required]. File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else. [...]



Something To Ponder

Sun, 01 Aug 2004 04:13:18 GMT

Something To Ponder


Time is nature's way of keeping everything from happening all at once.

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.




A Joke To End The Day

Thu, 17 Jun 2004 03:30:02 GMT

A Joke To End The Day


Way back in the Middle Ages, there was a monastery in need of a bell ringer. The monk posted signs all over the town, and one day a man with no arms came to the monastery to apply for the position. "I'm not one to make sport of someone's disability," said the monk, "but will you be able to do the job?" "Of course," said the armless man. "Take me up to the bell tower and I ll show you."

They walked to the top of the bell tower, and the monk pointed to the smallest bell. "Can you ring that bell?," he asked. The man stepped back, ran forward, and smacked his face into the bell! The bell rang long and clear. "Most impressive," said the monk. "Can you ring this larger bell?" Again, the man stepped back, ran forward, and smacked his face into the bell, and the bell rang perfectly. "We do occasionally use our largest bell would you be able to ring that?" Again, the man stepped back, ran forward, and smacked his face into the bell. Because of its great mass, the bell did not budge. The force of the blow threw the man backwards and out the window, where he fell to his death in the courtyard below.

The monk ran down the stairs and into the courtyard, where a crowd had already gathered, trying to figure out who this hapless person was. A woman in the crowd turned to the monk. "Do you know who this man is?," she asked.

"No," the monk replied. "But his face rings a bell."

BUT WAIT YOU RE NOT GETTING AWAY THAT EASY!!!!!!

The monastery was still in need of a bell ringer. Days went by, and there was a knock at the door. The monk opened the door to find a tall, very muscular man. "I'm here for the bell ringer job," said the man. "Well," said the monk, "you certainly appear to be more than qualified but I will have to see you ring the bells, just to be sure."

While walking up the stairs to the bell tower, the monk struck up a conversation. "You know, we had an armless man apply for this position a week ago." "Yes, I know," said the man. "He was my brother." "I'm so sorry," said the monk, as they arrived in the bell tower. "Well," he said, "considering your size and build, we might just as well try you on the largest bell." The man grabbed the rope, braced himself, and gave a mighty heave. The rope snapped, the man stumbled backwards, and fell out the window, meeting the same fate as his brother.

Again, the monk ran down to the courtyard, where the crowd had already gathered, all murmuring and wondering who this man was. "Did you know this man?," asked a nearby child.

"No," replied the monk. "But he's a dead ringer for his brother."

File under Stuff That Don't Fit Anywhere Else.