Should I Know What "Justin Bieber" Is?

And We're Back

...and jetlagged, and exhausted from the complicated and demeaning ordeal that is now domestic air travel. No word yet from the Gentleman Farmer, who returns sometime tonight with Dengue Fever and a pocket full of pesos.

It was worth it, though, as your faithful contributor was able to spend an incredible week relaxing, reading, and grunting contentedly on the shores of Canandaigua Lake in New York:


I wonder if the Gentleman Farmer would have preferred the vacation week that I had with Kickball Girl's family: we ate steak, shot skeet, read books, and slept. Like many trips I've had with those folks, it was best described as something of a fantasy camp for the Gentleman Farmer. On a related note, we're now taking cheeky pseudonym suggestions for Kickball Girl and her ilk.

Other observations:
1. The wines of western New York are not as good as those of northern California.
2. Plainsong, by Kent Haruf, is an excellent novel, and easily the best I've read featuring calf-birthing.
3. Soft-serve ice cream can be sublime.
4. Mosquitoes like me.
5. Showering is nice, but bathing in 429 billion gallons of water can be much, much nicer.

You'd think that traveling to such far-flung places (you know, those without internet) would indicate otherwise, but your contributors were, in fact, a good 1400 miles closer to one another than normal. Back off, GF - yer crowdin' me.

Robot Post Week: She's a Good Girl

We've been holding on to this old Tom Petty video since we were reminded of it a few weeks ago over at Miss Julie's, of all places. It's 20 years old, so Petty doesn't yet look as if his skin is three sizes too big for his face. It's a great song.

If all has gone as scheduled, your humble and obedient servant will shortly be on an airplane, returning to civilization. In the meantime, if you'd like your buttons pushed, push the play button below:

UPDATE (9 am PDT, 5/14/08): I feel obligated, and not just in the comments section, to mention that this music video was the first I ever watched on MTV (that is, back when they actually aired music videos). -Hired Hand

Robot Post Week: We Have Seen Our Future

And we think we don't like it very much.

Robot Post Week: G&S Loves Fireworks!

"A little too much magnesium, I guess . . . "

Robot Post Week: For Your Procrastination

I work in second-tier client support. This means I don't actually have to SPEAK to clients very often, but it does mean I get my fair share of idiot questions. Of course, stupid questions aren't limited to those from clients. With that in mind, I find Not Always Right extremely freaking funny, for content like this:

(At the Dollar Store in Milford, CT):
(I’m shopping in the dollar store, fully clothed in my Taco Bell uniform. I even have the hat on, too.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir, do you work here?”

Me: “Does it LOOK like I work here?”

Customer: “Yes?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Oh…well, do you know how much this is?”

Me: “It’s a dollar.”

Customer: “How did you know that if you didn’t work here?”

Me: “Lady, do you have ANY idea where you are right now? You are in a dollar store. Do you know what that means?”

Customer: “That’s impossible.”

Me: “…what?”

Customer: “This store doesn’t sell dollars.”

Robot Post Week: G&S Likes Hillary

Robot Post Week: Blondie

You'd think we'd have outgrown this sort of thing, but we retain a soft spot in our heart for Debbie Harry (and we've never much liked blonds, come to think of it).

Robot Post Week: One Too Many Calls

to the Help Desk:

Office Worker Goes Absolutely Insane - Watch more free videos

Robot Post Week: G&S Loves Museums

I don't understand why we drag kids to museums and art galleries and even zoos when they're in the 4th grade. It always seems to be raining, and your coat is hot and steamy (but you have to wear it or else you'll lose it), and you're sort of afraid that you'll get lost, at the same time getting lost seems like it might not be such a bad idea. The worst is the worksheet that Mrs. Cipriano gave to you – the one that forces you to write something about the Plains Indians exhibit, and the mastodon, and the creepy Eskimo diorama. And you have to keep up with the class -- heaven forbid you actually get interested in something and hang back to look at it longer.

[The only up side to such outings is the bus trip to and from school. If things work out and you're lucky, you'd be sitting on the bus near that cute girl you were afraid to talk to. If God was truly smiling, she might even be assigned as your line partner, so you'd sit together both to and from the museum. If she’s just nearby, then the opportunity to impress her and make your true feelings known by hitting her with something was presented. If you sat with her, of course, the possibility of discorporation was quite real. It would be bad enough if she spent the whole trip talking to her best friend in the seat in front of you, or across the aisle. How to show your intense feelings? How stupid and obnoxious and jerky can you possibly act, anyway? (Girls really like stupid and obnoxious and jerky, you know.) But what if you tried to say something, and she said you smelled bad? What if you DO smell bad?]

It's as if the purpose was to be part of a long-term solution to the problem of museum overcrowding, since the effect was certainly to associate museums and galleries with (at best) life-threatening boredom.

It was many years before it occurred to me that if I left my office, and walked down the street, and went into a museum or gallery, I didn't have to wear my heavy coat (or boots), didn't have to pack a lunch in a paper bag, didn't have to write anything for Mrs. Cipriano, didn't have to keep up with the class, and could stay for 5 minutes or 5 hours, and nobody would say a word. I learned that I was even allowed to walk right by some paintings without looking, while I was permitted to stand in front of others for as long as I wanted. I was allowed to decide that something was stupid and ugly, while something else was pretty cool, and I didn't have to know why I thought that, nor explain it to anybody. Not only that, but I could even get close to the painting without getting yelled at.

Who knew?

And there’s even been progress with that cute girl: I can now talk to her, so long as (while doing so) I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the toes of my shoes.

Robot Post Week

Both of your primary contributors are out of town, out of the country, out of reach of the InterWebs, or some combination of these. As a consequence, we are taking advantage of a relatively new feature, which permits the stockpiling of posts and their publication at future dates. Hence: Robot Posting Week, as our Blogger robot will be in charge.

It will be interesting to see whether this works at all and, if it does, how well we’ve anticipated our readers’ mood (not to mention current affairs) for the immediate future. We don’t have the advantage of having perfected Psychohistory – Hari Seldon did that, of course – and we can’t help but recollect that that didn’t turn out very well, either.

So wish us luck.