Monday, June 26, 2006
Communication
This just in! I finally noticed something about the way my Australian web hosting service lists dates. You may already know that in the USA we call July Second, two-thousand six like this: 07-02-2006. In Europe, I knew already, they usually list it as 02-07-2006, which can be confusing if you don’t know their system. (They also call 1,000,000,000 a “thousand million” and 1,000,000,000,000 a “billion” so there are some real problems if you don’t use the numerals. But I digress as is my wont.) Just today I noticed, although they’ve been doing it all along (I checked) that my Aussie correspondents use the format for the date of 2006-07-02, which is just the opposite of the Eurpoeans, but does put the month and day in the same order in which we list them, which, to me, makes it easier to understand, which is probably why I never noticed the year being first before.
I’m sure that I sensed some significant point in that paragraph when I wrote the first sentence, but frankly, other than to be careful when you communicate to be sure that you and the other parties are using the same idioms, I can’t think of one. And that’s not all that odd, nor is it the least bit ranting, so I’m not sure why I posted it, except that it seemed odd and significant when I noticed it.
***
This is not to say that I can’t use it to segue into something of a rant about Congressional Communications. As reported on the #1 Fake News Program on Basic Cable, The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, and I quote, “Seriously, the House of Representatives is filled with Insane Jackasses.” Seriously, you can see the video yourself here. I am especially impressed with the words from Congressman Pitts. It’s a little than a minute from the end of the video. It’s enough to make your jaw hit your shoes. He says, and this is a close paraphrase. You have the link, check it for yourself. He says that while a rich white suburban kid may be able to play violent video games without harm, a poor kid from the ghetto who’s brother is already out on the street corner dealing drugs would probably suffer irreparable harm. That, if you will, is a sentence that can only come from what Mr. Stewart calls an “insane jackass.” I have other words that might do, but I won’t use them here due to the vulgarity rules of the blogging host.
It reminds me of the drug wars of the twentieth century. Cocaine, for example, was made illegal when some poor black dude from Georgia, who was a cocaine addict, also took to axe murder. There were actual newspaper stories about “protecting our colored citizens,” presumably from themselves, but overtly from the “threat posed by cocaine.” The astute observer might see echoes today when cocaine users from Hollywood are given probation while black crack users go to the slammer. Or maybe you won’t, but I do. Marijuana was William Randolph Hearst’s bugaboo, because he needed a way to keep his Mexican labor force in line. So, the threat of the pot smoking Mexican was made known to all the land, to the point where today, even if a doctor says you desperately need the stuff, you can’t legally get any marijuana, at least so far as the DEA is concerned. Oddly, this is not true of cocaine, but then it is of the form of cocaine favored by poor folks, crack. Opium was a threat presented by the Chinese who were then as now living in our cities, and as perceived at the time, doing our laundry, ogling our women, and corrupting our youth with the siren call of the demon opium den.
The government backs up its continuing enforcement of these racist statutes with what are, frankly, plain lies. For example, using marijuana leads one to become lethargic and possibly of less use to yourself and others. So does watching 40 hours of TV per week, but so far there’s not a law against that. As to Opiates, the actual pharmacological effect of overuse is that you become dependant, and must get a fix every day in order to carry on your normal activities. Cocaine isn’t good for a person, but it does not make one tend to be an axe murder, unless one already had those tendencies. The rest of what the government tells you about drugs is mostly lies. The reason drugs are associated with all that violence is that they are illegal, and we send heavily-armed agents after those trafficking in drugs. This of course keeps the price high enough to ensure that there will be an endless supply of those wanting to traffic in drugs. The drug users get their product, albeit not always so pure, the top drug sellers make millions or more, and the agents make a career out of playing drug war soldiers. A real winning combination.
But of course the government lies about lots of things. They lie about the effectiveness of condoms; they lie about the effectiveness of abstinence only programs; they lie about weapons of mass destruction, apparently. But that’s okay, because they’re just a bunch of racist drunks. Oh, no I didn’t mean that. I meant to say that they’re just a bunch of insane jackasses. Thank God Almighty that they don’t do drugs!
I’m sure that I sensed some significant point in that paragraph when I wrote the first sentence, but frankly, other than to be careful when you communicate to be sure that you and the other parties are using the same idioms, I can’t think of one. And that’s not all that odd, nor is it the least bit ranting, so I’m not sure why I posted it, except that it seemed odd and significant when I noticed it.
***
This is not to say that I can’t use it to segue into something of a rant about Congressional Communications. As reported on the #1 Fake News Program on Basic Cable, The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, and I quote, “Seriously, the House of Representatives is filled with Insane Jackasses.” Seriously, you can see the video yourself here. I am especially impressed with the words from Congressman Pitts. It’s a little than a minute from the end of the video. It’s enough to make your jaw hit your shoes. He says, and this is a close paraphrase. You have the link, check it for yourself. He says that while a rich white suburban kid may be able to play violent video games without harm, a poor kid from the ghetto who’s brother is already out on the street corner dealing drugs would probably suffer irreparable harm. That, if you will, is a sentence that can only come from what Mr. Stewart calls an “insane jackass.” I have other words that might do, but I won’t use them here due to the vulgarity rules of the blogging host.
It reminds me of the drug wars of the twentieth century. Cocaine, for example, was made illegal when some poor black dude from Georgia, who was a cocaine addict, also took to axe murder. There were actual newspaper stories about “protecting our colored citizens,” presumably from themselves, but overtly from the “threat posed by cocaine.” The astute observer might see echoes today when cocaine users from Hollywood are given probation while black crack users go to the slammer. Or maybe you won’t, but I do. Marijuana was William Randolph Hearst’s bugaboo, because he needed a way to keep his Mexican labor force in line. So, the threat of the pot smoking Mexican was made known to all the land, to the point where today, even if a doctor says you desperately need the stuff, you can’t legally get any marijuana, at least so far as the DEA is concerned. Oddly, this is not true of cocaine, but then it is of the form of cocaine favored by poor folks, crack. Opium was a threat presented by the Chinese who were then as now living in our cities, and as perceived at the time, doing our laundry, ogling our women, and corrupting our youth with the siren call of the demon opium den.
The government backs up its continuing enforcement of these racist statutes with what are, frankly, plain lies. For example, using marijuana leads one to become lethargic and possibly of less use to yourself and others. So does watching 40 hours of TV per week, but so far there’s not a law against that. As to Opiates, the actual pharmacological effect of overuse is that you become dependant, and must get a fix every day in order to carry on your normal activities. Cocaine isn’t good for a person, but it does not make one tend to be an axe murder, unless one already had those tendencies. The rest of what the government tells you about drugs is mostly lies. The reason drugs are associated with all that violence is that they are illegal, and we send heavily-armed agents after those trafficking in drugs. This of course keeps the price high enough to ensure that there will be an endless supply of those wanting to traffic in drugs. The drug users get their product, albeit not always so pure, the top drug sellers make millions or more, and the agents make a career out of playing drug war soldiers. A real winning combination.
But of course the government lies about lots of things. They lie about the effectiveness of condoms; they lie about the effectiveness of abstinence only programs; they lie about weapons of mass destruction, apparently. But that’s okay, because they’re just a bunch of racist drunks. Oh, no I didn’t mean that. I meant to say that they’re just a bunch of insane jackasses. Thank God Almighty that they don’t do drugs!
Labels: Politics
Saturday, June 24, 2006
We Don't Bogart Our Roaches
This column is about a topic dear to the heart of may of us. Maybe it’s because the name was given out during World War II, but I doubt it, but the items in question are called “German.” They’re brown, they have six legs, the dominate the planet, and they’re about the most disgusting forms of life ever invented, save for maybe eels and Neo Nazis. I am referring, of course, to the common brown cockroach. (You thought this was going to be about drugs, didn’t you?)
I know more about these insects than anyone ought to because we were invaded by an army last Spring. At first they were just baby ones, cute little buggers with shiny red bodies to fool us into a sense that they were just some sort of desert beetle or something. But they grew and before you knew it there was one of them in my cereal one morning, and they were crawling around all over the house whenever you least wanted to meet one. We called an exterminator, who came over with more poison than the Kaiser’s army used in World War One, in fact me and the animals had to leave for a few hours while the stuff did it’s magic. But it did work, and it only took a couple of dump trucks to haul away all the dead roaches. Yum yum huh? But we kept getting a few. Only now they were just staggering into the house until they flipped over onto their little German backs and twitched a few times, then laid there and took all day to die. At least they were out of my Cheerios™ brand whole grain oats cereal that helps lower you cholesterol. (Let’s see ‘em complain about that use of their trademark.) But then it was finally time to tackle the landscaping around here, which could only be described as something that used to be a yard with trees now reduced to being a dusty pile of dog stuff interspersed with dead figs. The figs were from the big old fig tree in the back yard. It was obviously starting to fall down and we don’t have any idea what to do with figs in the first place. So, I called a guy to come and cut it down.
He went out with his Swedish chain saw and had at the big old thing, then came running up to the house screaming. Upon close inspection I discovered that he was screaming because the tree was hollow and packed to the gills (and I didn’t even know that trees had gills) with cockroaches. Big ones, little ones, pale white ones (talk about emetics) and they were all looking like they’d like nothing better than to jump into a sandwich. The obvious thing to do was to move to someplace that didn’t have cockroaches, but the moon hasn’t been properly surveyed for sale yet, so instead I got a big old bottle of insecticide with a pump handle and soaked that sucker real good. If you’ve ever seen an anthill overturned you’ll remember the sight of all those ants swarming out, running willy nilly around and looking itchy, right? Well imagine that as the same number of cockroaches and you’ll get a picture of what happens when you spray a large roach colony with insecticide.
You know, I was a boy kid. I like snakes. I don’t mind spiders or ants or scorpions. I can eat snails, octopi, almost anything, but the sight of those roaches boiling out of that tree trunk was as close as I’ve ever come to having a nervous breakdown. You talk about ugly, you don’t know what you’re saying. Horrible doesn’t cover it.
But anyway, after the roaches had a few days to all be nice enough to die the man came back and took out the tree and the stump. But the funny thing is, after that it was time for the monthly visit from the bug people to spray around the house to keep the roaches out. That was two days ago. Since then we’ve had dozens of dead roaches in the house. Hmmm. But, on the bright side, they’re completely outnumbered by a type of locust called a “Mormon cricket.” I knew there was something about that Brigham Young guy I didn’t like . . .
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Visiting Saints Joe and Frank
We landed in Saint Joe on Friday, and drove to Saint Frank on Saturday. Okay, San Jose and San Francisco if you insist. On Sunday after the movie (see below) we took off for home.
First, we found a place called Vesuvio’s in Saint Clara, er I mean Santa Clara, right next to San Jose, which is an odd local Italian place with good food and an odd way of serving. We paid for our drinks at the counter but the bartender and the counter lady had to have a yelling match in two languages to sort out that, yes, we were supposed to get beverages that were already paid for. Odd, that, but it’s a good restaurant over all, on El Camino Real. That was on Friday evening, and besides soaking in the spa by the pool (it was way too cold to swim, at least for a Mojave Desert rat) that was all we did that day. Saturday we were up early and off to San Francisco in time to be on the streets of Chinatown by 9:40. There’s a parking garage on Clay Street that costs only three bucks a weekend day with validation, so we used it and had a really good time wandering around what looks like it may be the only really authentic China Town left in the USA. Some of the families living there probably have done so since Statehood if not before. We had Dim Sum for lunch at the Asia Café (yummy stuff) and also visited an art festival next door in North Beach.
An interesting thing about San Francisco is that there is no level ground in the city away from the waterfront. Honest. The reason Lombard street has that incredibly crooked block is that it’s a hundred feet along and two hundred feet down. From a few blocks away it looks like a rock garden. The good thing about San Francisco is that the weather is quite mild. It was a stinking hot 76 degrees while we were there, making even that humidity bearable.
After lunch we took a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf on the Embarcadero. A cable car is an interesting contraption, saved by National Monument status. There is no way anyone could introduce such a thing today. I got to ride on the outside, holding on to a pole, dangling over the street. It’s fun and the thing only goes seven miles per hour, but imagine OSHA if you wanted your factory workers to cross the plant like that. Anyway, on Fisherman’s Wharf we went to the Aquarium of the Bay, which has a bunch of tanks you walk under. The things a starfish does to a smelt are not pretty, I have to tell you, and a few less little kids might have been nice, too. Then we took a streetcar to Ghirardelli Square and bought chocolate at the original chocolate shop. It’s all gone, so I can’t offer to share any with you. Tough for you, huh?
After Ghirardelli Square we retrieved our car and I got to drive down that Lombard Street hill, which isn’t all that difficult but really looks like it would be. People live on that block, and have driveways and everything. It probably costs extra to live there, although that street would be a great nuisance after a while, or so I imagine. And there are always tourists winding down past your door at all hours. And even snow once, or so it appears in that ad I’ve seen lately. But from the bottom we took off toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Across the bridge we headed for Muir Woods, one of the few remaining stands of native Coast Redwoods. The trees are impressive. There’s the cross-section of a trunk that fell in 1939, one thousand rings from center to bark. Let’s see, at a ring per year that makes it, uh, really really old, huh? There’s the bicentennial tree, which first drank in the sunlight about the time Paul Revere was making his famous ride. It’s a fine strapping young thing. It’ll grow up some day, I’m sure, into a big tree like its many neighbors in the grove. The redwoods are not as big around as the giant sequoias found inland, but they are quite a bit taller. They are taller, in fact, than most of any city in the world, and that’s a fact. If you’d like to be impressed simply by age and sheer survival, Muir Woods is the place for you. They live, in fact, ten times or more longer than humans. And there’s a gift shop.
After Muir Woods (it was a heck of a day) we found a local chain called Izzy’s, which served me the best steak I’ve ever eaten. No kidding. If it were closer I’d go back next weekend. Yum and a half.
Then we drove back to San Jose, five bucks for the inbound toll and through San Francisco on US 101. The famous US 101; it’s not route 66, but it’s the original West Coast Highway.
Sunday we stayed in San Jose, touring the Winchester Mystery House. Mrs. Winchester was the widow of the second president of the Winchester Rifle company, and she apparently took it into her head that she needed to appease the spirits of those killed with Winchester products. So she moved to the west coast, bought a farm house, hired a crew of carpenters, and kept them busy for 36 years building room after room of addition onto the house. It now has 160 rooms, 13 bathrooms (she had a thing for thirteen) strange staircases, and as you might imagine, a number of construction oddities. She believed she would not die so long as she kept building. She died in 1926. Not even the spirits could prevent that, although she was very old, which is something, I suppose.
Then after lunch at an Irish restaurant in a mall (it was fine but I don’t remember the name anyway) we went to the movies. Which is the story of the weekend that confirmed for me that San Francisco is indeed one of my favorite cities, and that I really wish I’d have gotten to see Muir woods the first time I visited, when there was no parking to be found. That was in 1973. Luckily, the intervening 33 years did nothing to diminish the pleasure of the visit to the Woods, or to the City by the Bay. If only it were less humid, it would be perfect.
First, we found a place called Vesuvio’s in Saint Clara, er I mean Santa Clara, right next to San Jose, which is an odd local Italian place with good food and an odd way of serving. We paid for our drinks at the counter but the bartender and the counter lady had to have a yelling match in two languages to sort out that, yes, we were supposed to get beverages that were already paid for. Odd, that, but it’s a good restaurant over all, on El Camino Real. That was on Friday evening, and besides soaking in the spa by the pool (it was way too cold to swim, at least for a Mojave Desert rat) that was all we did that day. Saturday we were up early and off to San Francisco in time to be on the streets of Chinatown by 9:40. There’s a parking garage on Clay Street that costs only three bucks a weekend day with validation, so we used it and had a really good time wandering around what looks like it may be the only really authentic China Town left in the USA. Some of the families living there probably have done so since Statehood if not before. We had Dim Sum for lunch at the Asia Café (yummy stuff) and also visited an art festival next door in North Beach.
An interesting thing about San Francisco is that there is no level ground in the city away from the waterfront. Honest. The reason Lombard street has that incredibly crooked block is that it’s a hundred feet along and two hundred feet down. From a few blocks away it looks like a rock garden. The good thing about San Francisco is that the weather is quite mild. It was a stinking hot 76 degrees while we were there, making even that humidity bearable.
After lunch we took a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf on the Embarcadero. A cable car is an interesting contraption, saved by National Monument status. There is no way anyone could introduce such a thing today. I got to ride on the outside, holding on to a pole, dangling over the street. It’s fun and the thing only goes seven miles per hour, but imagine OSHA if you wanted your factory workers to cross the plant like that. Anyway, on Fisherman’s Wharf we went to the Aquarium of the Bay, which has a bunch of tanks you walk under. The things a starfish does to a smelt are not pretty, I have to tell you, and a few less little kids might have been nice, too. Then we took a streetcar to Ghirardelli Square and bought chocolate at the original chocolate shop. It’s all gone, so I can’t offer to share any with you. Tough for you, huh?
After Ghirardelli Square we retrieved our car and I got to drive down that Lombard Street hill, which isn’t all that difficult but really looks like it would be. People live on that block, and have driveways and everything. It probably costs extra to live there, although that street would be a great nuisance after a while, or so I imagine. And there are always tourists winding down past your door at all hours. And even snow once, or so it appears in that ad I’ve seen lately. But from the bottom we took off toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Across the bridge we headed for Muir Woods, one of the few remaining stands of native Coast Redwoods. The trees are impressive. There’s the cross-section of a trunk that fell in 1939, one thousand rings from center to bark. Let’s see, at a ring per year that makes it, uh, really really old, huh? There’s the bicentennial tree, which first drank in the sunlight about the time Paul Revere was making his famous ride. It’s a fine strapping young thing. It’ll grow up some day, I’m sure, into a big tree like its many neighbors in the grove. The redwoods are not as big around as the giant sequoias found inland, but they are quite a bit taller. They are taller, in fact, than most of any city in the world, and that’s a fact. If you’d like to be impressed simply by age and sheer survival, Muir Woods is the place for you. They live, in fact, ten times or more longer than humans. And there’s a gift shop.
After Muir Woods (it was a heck of a day) we found a local chain called Izzy’s, which served me the best steak I’ve ever eaten. No kidding. If it were closer I’d go back next weekend. Yum and a half.
Then we drove back to San Jose, five bucks for the inbound toll and through San Francisco on US 101. The famous US 101; it’s not route 66, but it’s the original West Coast Highway.
Sunday we stayed in San Jose, touring the Winchester Mystery House. Mrs. Winchester was the widow of the second president of the Winchester Rifle company, and she apparently took it into her head that she needed to appease the spirits of those killed with Winchester products. So she moved to the west coast, bought a farm house, hired a crew of carpenters, and kept them busy for 36 years building room after room of addition onto the house. It now has 160 rooms, 13 bathrooms (she had a thing for thirteen) strange staircases, and as you might imagine, a number of construction oddities. She believed she would not die so long as she kept building. She died in 1926. Not even the spirits could prevent that, although she was very old, which is something, I suppose.
Then after lunch at an Irish restaurant in a mall (it was fine but I don’t remember the name anyway) we went to the movies. Which is the story of the weekend that confirmed for me that San Francisco is indeed one of my favorite cities, and that I really wish I’d have gotten to see Muir woods the first time I visited, when there was no parking to be found. That was in 1973. Luckily, the intervening 33 years did nothing to diminish the pleasure of the visit to the Woods, or to the City by the Bay. If only it were less humid, it would be perfect.
Steal from the Best
Yeah, that’s it: steal from the best. I say this because the other day, in an effort to kill some time in San Jose before our plane left to return to the burning and blessedly dry desert, we picked a movie to see. After all, it’s cool in movie theaters, and reasonably dry, even on a coast, and besides, we hadn’t seen Cars. So now I’ve seen Cars and here’s my quickie review. If perchance you haven’t seen it yet and don’t want anything spoiled, skip this post. Sorry about that, but I’m figuring that I was amongst the last to catch this one. Still, I’ve got two cents, so here I go.
When I say “steal from the best” I mean that this movie, like, oh, say, Star Wars Episode IV before it, used all sorts of conventions of scene, character and dialogue that really seem to work almost every time. I’ve even seen them work in parody form, they’re that powerful. It seems that there’s the cocky youngster who could use a lesson in putting other people ahead of himself, and also there’s this old hotshot star that got driven out of the spotlight by a tragedy and now won’t even admit to his friends who he is or what he used to be. Then there’s this young lady who fled from the high pressure world of LA Law (no, I am not making any of this up) and all three of these guys, plus some goofy comic relief and a variety of supporting characters, including a chief nemesis (not to be confused with the villain, which is basically callow youth) and another star in his final performance who is, in the end, helped greatly by the now humble young star. The Nemesis wins but loses, the young hero loses but wins, and the girl gets the young hero, or vice-versa depending on your point of view. The old star is returned to glory, and Route 66 is a prominent presence in the film. The hero even helps restore some of the glory to “The Mother Road.”
If you can read that and not get Cars then by all means go and see it anyway. It’s got funny stuff, pathos, heroism, and excellent animation. Disney doesn’t own Pixar for nothing, you know. The marriage is great for both companies, although to judge by the previews we say they’ll still be making separate pictures for a while at least. Pixar is having an anniversary, by the way. Say, when did that Star Wars thing first hit theaters? Wow, what do you know? If you got all that and haven’t seen Cars then go ahead. It’s still worth the price of a ticket.
PS – We went to an AMC theater in San Jose. Please, AMC, put a multiplex in the Valley of the Meadows, won’t you? Heck, I give you free plugs!
When I say “steal from the best” I mean that this movie, like, oh, say, Star Wars Episode IV before it, used all sorts of conventions of scene, character and dialogue that really seem to work almost every time. I’ve even seen them work in parody form, they’re that powerful. It seems that there’s the cocky youngster who could use a lesson in putting other people ahead of himself, and also there’s this old hotshot star that got driven out of the spotlight by a tragedy and now won’t even admit to his friends who he is or what he used to be. Then there’s this young lady who fled from the high pressure world of LA Law (no, I am not making any of this up) and all three of these guys, plus some goofy comic relief and a variety of supporting characters, including a chief nemesis (not to be confused with the villain, which is basically callow youth) and another star in his final performance who is, in the end, helped greatly by the now humble young star. The Nemesis wins but loses, the young hero loses but wins, and the girl gets the young hero, or vice-versa depending on your point of view. The old star is returned to glory, and Route 66 is a prominent presence in the film. The hero even helps restore some of the glory to “The Mother Road.”
If you can read that and not get Cars then by all means go and see it anyway. It’s got funny stuff, pathos, heroism, and excellent animation. Disney doesn’t own Pixar for nothing, you know. The marriage is great for both companies, although to judge by the previews we say they’ll still be making separate pictures for a while at least. Pixar is having an anniversary, by the way. Say, when did that Star Wars thing first hit theaters? Wow, what do you know? If you got all that and haven’t seen Cars then go ahead. It’s still worth the price of a ticket.
PS – We went to an AMC theater in San Jose. Please, AMC, put a multiplex in the Valley of the Meadows, won’t you? Heck, I give you free plugs!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
X-Ceptional X-Citement?
So the other day we went to see the newest X-Men feature. You know, Kelsey Grammar as a big blue hairball is almost worth paying something for in itself. It’s done a bit differently than the first two, with a different director, but it’s still a fairly decent movie. My students, who are also apparently students of the graphic novels (comic books with a high cover price, that is) tell me that it varies a bit from the established story line, but what the heck, I haven’t read an X-Men comic in decades, so I really don’t care.
If you saw the second movie you’ll know about the girl who got drowned in a lake after the dam got blown up? Sure you do. Well, she’s back, and central to the whole episode. You may also remember how Wolverine felt about her? Well, that plays a big part, too. Magneto ends up back at the chess table in the park, in case you’re interested. If I write any more I’ll be giving things away. Wouldn’t want to give things away. But, you know, the good guys suffer but win in the end, while the bad guys have a great time and lose in the final act. Oh, well, it is an action movie, isn’t it?
Truth is, it was pretty entertaining, but I did catch myself looking at my watch to check the timing and structure, which is a sign that it could have been better. But, heck, almost any movie, except a very few like Casablanca or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest could have been better. This film is in good company, and it’ll never show up on late-night TV being jeered by a couple of robots and a dweeb from Minnesota, if you get my drift. It’s mostly fun, the violence is less than you’d expect, and the good guys win in the end. What more do you want of a flick?
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Try My New Link
In the links area to the left you'll see a link to Paredes Net Quotations. That's as in my old friend from near Denver who posts them, and apparently updates them from time to time. As some of them are quite entertaining and/or revealing about the sources, I'm inlcuding a link for your pleasure. Check it out!
