Cubs Suck!

Book of the Week

Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse

Mortimer Tate was a recently divorced insurance salesman when he holed up in a cave on top of a mountain in Tennessee and rode out the end of the world. Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse begins nine years later, when he emerges into a bizarre landscape filled with hollow reminders of an America that no longer exists. The highways are lined with abandoned automobiles; electricity is generated by indentured servants pedaling stationary bicycles. What little civilization remains revolves around Joey Armageddon's Sassy A-Go-Go strip clubs, where the beer is cold, the lap dancers are hot, and the bouncers are armed with M16s.

Accompanied by his cowboy sidekick Buffalo Bill, the gorgeous stripper Sheila, and the mountain man Ted, Mortimer journeys to the lost city of Atlanta -- and a showdown that might determine the fate of humanity.

Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse, by Victor Gischler

I'm Mad Too!

I'm madder than hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore.

Radiometric Dating

Radioactivity also gave the history of life an absolute calendar. By measuring the atoms produced by these breakdowns inside rocks, physicists were able to estimate their ages and by comparing the ratios of those atoms to atoms from meteorites, they could estimate how long ago it was that the Earth formed along with the rest of the solar system. In 1956 the American geologist Claire Patterson announced that the Earth was 4.5 billion years old. Darwin had finally gotten the luxury of time he had craved.

Ipsa scientia potestas est. ~ Knowledge itself is power.----

Author of the Week

Hunter S. Thompson, a great American. You can follow the link to find out why.

Armstrong walks on moon

July 20, 1969
At 10:56 p.m. EDT, American astronaut Neil Armstrong, 240,000 miles from Earth, speaks these words to more than a billion people listening at home: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Stepping off the lunar landing module Eagle, Armstrong became the first human to walk on the surface of the moon.
Absolutely God Damn Right!

The High Bridge, Boone Iowa

I walked across this bridge when I worked for C&NW railroad.

July 7,2009

At five minutes and six seconds after 4 AM on the 8th of July this year, the time and date will be - 04:05:06 07/08/09. This will not happen again for a thousand years

Corn

Producers in the 10 major corn-producing states (Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, Ohio, South Dakota, and Wisconsin) planted 67.9 million acres of corn in 2009, up 3 percent from last year. The largest increase was recorded in Nebraska where growers planted 600,000 more acres of corn than last year. Other notable increases were shown in Iowa, up 400,000 acres; Missouri, up 300,000 acres; and South Dakota, up 250,000 acres from a year ago. The largest decline occurred in North Dakota where corn planted acreage is down 650,000 acres

Author of the Week

Carlos Castaneda


From 1968 thru 1999, the following ten books were published. They recount his apprenticeship under don Juan and therewith provide us entrance to the knowledge don Juan passed on to him--knowledge of an ancient system for becoming a "man of knowledge."
1968--The Teachings of don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge
1971--A Separate Reality: Further Conversations with don Juan
1972--Journey to Ixtlan: The Lessons of don Juan
1974--Tales Of Power
1977--The Second Ring of Power
1981--The Eagle's Gift
1984--The Fire From Within
1987--The Power of Silence: Further lessons of don Juan
1993--The Art of Dreaming
1999--The Active Side of Infinity

Buzzards!

Buzzards! These things are everywhere in Iowa. Watch out!

"Who is John Galt?"

Atlas Shrugged sucked when I read it 30 years ago, and it still sucks.
Author of the week...Ayn Rand. Unfortunately, she blows.

Stupid Man Overshadowed By Louder Stupid Man

A long, idiotic rant delivered by a demonstrably stupid man was interrupted Monday by the ramblings of a man who, in addition to being stupid, spoke in a very loud voice. "The first man was certainly stupid, but he was more relentless than loud," said a quiet and somewhat reasonable man who witnessed the dispute. "So when the other man began saying something even stupider at a much higher volume, naturally I had to pay attention to him." As of press time, both men had quieted down somewhat, but remained stupid.
A couple of friends. Yes, they are stupid.

This Dog Sucks

Friendly and fun loving my ass. Beagles, throughout history, have been harbingers of death and desolation.

On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog.

I'm Thinking About Getting A Dog To Neglect

Everyone laughed when you sent your dog to the Canine Academy Of Design, but they won't be laughing this week when he continues to shit all over their lawn.

Author of the Week

Richard Brautigan published nine novels during his lifetime. Brautigan is noted for his whimsical novels that, by his own account, evolved from his efforts to write poetry.
"One day when I was twenty-five years old, I looked down and realized that I could write a sentence. Let's try one of those classic good-bye lines," "I don't think we should see so much of each other any more because I think we're getting a little too serious," "which really meant that I wrote my first novel Trout Fishing in America and followed it with three other novels."
The three that followed were A Confederate General from Big Sur, In Watermelon Sugar, and The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966. Then there were his experiments with literary genres: The Hawkline Monster (a gothic western), Willard and His Bowling Trophies (a perverse mystery), Sombrero Fallout (a Japanese novel), Dreaming of Babylon (a detective novel 1942), and The Tokyo-Montana Express (a travel journal 1980). Where Brautigan's first three novels catapulted him to fame and recognition, these departures brought infamy and obscurity. Brautigan's last two novels were the foreboding So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away, and finally, the fateful An Unfortunate Woman.

I don't recommend any of this crap.

My Trip to the VA

I just had my semi-annual check up at the VAMC in Iowa City. I've been there many times before and this trip seemed to be pretty routine until the nurse asked me if I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
"Probably" I told her.
She looked at me with concern and asked "well"?
I knew in my heart that I should shut-up, instead I told her of the events of 1980. It started with getting shot in a bar room brawl, then I proceeded to tell her about finding the mutilated corpse of a teenage prostitute, then getting picked up for drunk driving and finally having a sesiure at work.
"Your drinking problem and the seizure were a direct result of PTSD" she stated . She thought I should see someone about it.
"No" I told her, "that all happened a long time ago, I'll be fine" She was not very happy with me.
I wanted to puke.
I didn't want PTSD, but it was too late, it couldn't be unsaid.
I wanted to tell her about my friend Paul. He was an Army Medic and won the Bronze Star in 1968. He survives on booze and dope and Valium. He has PTSD.
I wanted to tell her about my friend Bill. He served on the USS Forrestal. In 1967 he watched 134 of his shipmates burn to death. He survives on booze and dope and Valium. He has PTSD.
I wanted to tell her all sorts of hurtful things, but I couldn't.
I wanted to puke.
The VA nurse who interviewed me was young and pretty, competent and compassionate, but she was wrong. I don't have PTSD, but a lot of people do. If she stays at the VA long enough, she will understand.
Next time I will keep my mouth shut.