Retirement Home

The Mrs. and I finally found the perfect place to retire to. It's on Boulevard de La Tour-Mauberg. Now all I have to do is scrape up 750K and beg the owner to sell it.



Did I mention it has 20ft. cielings?

Paris - Part 3

Before we went out stomping all over the city, breakfast was at Le Recrutement.



The obligatory pic in the middle of the Champs. This one was taken at the intersection of Avenue Franklin D. Roosevelt.



Gorgeous.



One of our favorite spots in Eiffel Park.



Can you tell we love it here?

Paris - Part 2

The F-man at the Arc de Triomphe.



Every time we walk though here, Tschaicovskiy's 1812 Overture starts playing in my head.



Sacre Coeur, 3 ways.

Paris - Part 1

The Mrs. is passed out already, heh, so I figured I'd post a couple pics from vacation. Related to Skippy's post-vacation post (We actually stayed a couple blocks from him but we never hooked up), the outside of Musee d'Orsay.



And yes, it snowed like a motherfucker on Friday. The Mrs. at Tour Eiffel.



My lovely wife near Ille de St. Louis. She loves window shopping over there, especially a Russian store whose name eludes me.



She did serious shopping here, Galleries Lafayette, a must-stop when we're in Paris, already decked out in Christmas finery.



Yours truly braving the snow. Heh. It was fantastic and we were out for about 4 hours in it, walking down to the Louvre and then to the Champs.

Where were your balls when we needed 'em?

From Rich Miles:

Those of us who opposed the near-election, then Supreme Court installation, then God forbid the RE-election of George W. Bush, have known at least the basic outlines of what is being said against Bush these days for at least 5 years, so the only part of the recent revelations that come as a surprise is the sheer brazen balls of these people, and the clarity of the perfidy they've perpetrated on America. Many in the blogosphere, and even a few in the MSM, have been saying things like this, with different details, for the entire time W has been on the national political radar, and some have suffered grievously for their efforts - witness Joseph Wilson, Valerie Plame (who did not herself ever do anything to harm the Bush administration), Gen. Eric Shinseki, Richard Clarke, Paul O'Neill, and a host of others recently documented by Nick Turse of TomDispatch.com.

So my question to these Bush-bashers-come-lately is: where the hell were you people when we needed you?

In the year 2004, those of us working our butts off to get Bush canned stood by and watched as pure lies, gross innuendo, delegated attack politics, guilt by alleged but never proven association, and religious-cum-patriotic posturing scuttled our man Kerry (with a little help from the man himself, it must be said), and caused the weak-minded, the magical thinkers, and the venal to re-elect the most corrupt president in American history because the filth came too fast and furious for anyone to counter, and most of our national news voices didn't really even try.

We knew. We tried to tell you. Almost everything we feared would happen in a second Bush term has come to pass, just as many of us predicted it would. And you weren't listening, and so your sudden epiphanies mean nothing to us.

I agree with the writer's sentiment, but I disagree with his last sentence somewhat. I'm glad the pundits have recovered somewhat from the effects of the Kool-aid and finally overcome their fear enough to speak out. Better late than never, I guess.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here. Please give this some consideration before you send me hate mail and start beating me about the head and shoulders with inflated pig bladders and such.

I'm glad Bush finally got elected.

Look, (he says, crawling somewhat fearfully out of his bunker in an undisclosed location), the big original sin was the rigged election in 2000, which the Chimp almost lost anyway. His backup was in place and his SC(R*)OTUS did their job and installed him. They probably wish they hadn't had to, but that was their job and they did it. *Republican.

By then it was too late. The neocons and christo-fascists had seized the prize.

Then they set about undoing this country. They got a gift on 9/11. Whether they bought it for themselves or not is a whole 'nuther matter, but it let 'em speed-shift their plans for U.S. hegemony into high gear and stuff their foot into the fuel pump.

We all know the results: steal from the poor, give to the rich, trap our military in Iraq with no plans to get them out. Probably with plans to keep them there forever. Rule the world, etc.

The saving grace for us is that these bastards, besides being blinded by their evil ideologies, are so incompetent they couldn't throw a beer party in a brewery. The arrogance of them thinking they own the joint once and for all and can do whatever they want doesn't hurt us in the long run either.

If John Kerry had been elected, and he may actually have been, he would have inherited the whole mess. The Democrats were so disjointed that, given the Republican-controlled Congress, he would not have been able to fix all of Bush's fuckups in his allotted four year term and the country would have elected another fucking Republican in '08. The Dems would never have recovered and America would have truly gone down the shitter under a permanent Republican regime.

With Bush's election, the Repubs have been handed enough rope to hang themselves. They could only keep up the snow job for so long. Stuff we all knew, and stuff that has been leaking out a little at a time for years, have bubbled up through the stinking mess and are making this criminal administration smell bad enough that people are actually beginning to notice. Witness the latest presidential popularity polls. I wonder how many voters regret their choice. I wonder how many would admit it.

It doesn't hurt even a little bit that the cabal is steppin' on each other's weenies and throwin' each other overboard. Whee! It's sure fun to watch!

There have been many voices crying in the wilderness about the Bush cabal, but by and large, nobody but us political junkies took any notice. I think one of the unsung journalistic heroes, probably unwitting, in the unraveling of the Repubs, is (G holds revolver to own head to force finger to do this) Bob Novak. The 'Douchebag for Liberty' gave voice to Joe Wilson, an actual hero, and the outcry gave rise to another hero, Patrick Fitzgerald. Right now, Tina Turner's "We Don't Need Another Hero" is running through my head. Sorry, Honey, but fuckin' A we do!

'Hero' may be too strong a term, but now that the Repub freak show is on the run a little, more and more of the heretofore meek people in the MSM and Congress are emerging, cautiously and tentatively, to throw rocks at their former masters' backs. The political heroes, Boxer, Pelosi, Reid, and others, who have been throwing rocks at their front for some time with little effect are finally getting some support. Let's hope it's a trend.

If the trend keeps up, particularly indictments, public trials, and -please, God- convictions, perhaps an impeachment, the public-at-large may finally take its head out of its collective ass and see this cabal for what it is. Once they do, they'll be so pissed off at being duped, lied to, and played for the suckers they are, though they'll never admit it out loud, that there won't be another Big Business And War At The Expense Of Everybody But The Elite Republican administration for a generation, maybe two, until memory does its stuff and everybody forgets. Then it can start over for all I care. I'll be long gone.

Personally, I'm still hoping for a huge White House play-for-pay homosexual scandal to come out, so to speak. That'd really blow the lid off!

The U.S.A. can get over this. We must or America ends. It will be hard, but we can do it starting with the next election. If we fail to correct it then, shame on us: we're stupid and deserve whatever we get. As Robert Redford said to Michael J. Pollard in "Little Fauss and Big Halsey", "Once is cool. Twice is queer."

Dogs . . . again

Just watching GMA and another Pit Bull kills kid story is on. No link yet, but they did the story in July too. It's time for me to dig up this old standby and post it again too.

26 September 2004:

I know this isn't political, but it is a cause of mine. I posted this a couple months ago on The Fixer. I'm reposting it here today because I just got finished with the Town of Islip Animal Control officer. Seems that during the night, some motherfucking, no good, low-life, piece-of-shit, asshole decided he didn't want his dog anymore and chained him to my mailbox. Have I mentioned that my street has a 40 mph speed? This beautiful little spaniel boy was terrified when I found him this morning. He'd also showed signs of abuse, like someone thought it'd be fun to mutilate his tail. You'd better hope I don't find out who you are, asshole, or you'll know how it feels. At least now he's on his way to a better place, either to a loving home after a vet visit, or to meet the fate of millions of other dogs and cats in our nation's shelters. Either way, it's better than what he's used to.

You know I'm a dog lover and so's the Mrs. So, naturally I got a problem with a lot of folks who own dogs. Listen to me, please.

Don't get a fucking dog for stupid reasons. No, you're not going to breed the fucking thing. Just because you see how much puppies are going for, doesn't mean it's a 'get rich quick' scheme, you stupid motherfuckers. Being a breeder is hard work and you sure as hell don't know what the fuck you're doing. It's like never having popped the hood on a car, yet you suddenly feel you're qualified to open an auto repair shop. All you're gonna do is end up with a bunch of unwanted puppies. Here, I'll do you a favor. Google 'dog breeders' and send an email to five of them asking what the business entails. Then tell me you want to be a breeder. Did you know 3 million dogs and cats are put down every year because they're not wanted? Don't add to the fucking problem, dickhead.

Next, don't get a fucking Rottweiler, Doberman, Pit Bull, etc, as a penis extension, you idiot. Just like the sports car, you're only gonna be a little wiener with a bad dog. I see too many folks like this who want the dog as a status symbol and don't want to make the commitment to training and medical care. Moron, a dog is a twelve to fifteen year commitment on your part. It's just like having a kid. But hey, people have kids for the same stupid reasons. Think long and hard about it, please. (Kid or a dog, it doesn't matter. Be sure you want to make the commitment before you jump in with both feet. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should, ass.)

Next, if you're a compulsive person, and you see a cute little dog and you gotta have one, buy jewlery instead. At least you can hock it if you need the bread at a later date. Ain't nobody gonna buy a used dog, moron.

If you do decide to get a dog, do breed research. Every breed has their own traits (I wrote about my dog's foibles here.), so you have to see what will go best with you're lifestyle. If you're laid back and not into doing much training, a dog that requires a firm hand (Dobies, Rotties) ain't for you. Think Lab or Golden. Same thing if you got rugrats running around your house. All my friends' kids know not to run through my house because my Cattle Dog will try to herd them all back into one room:

Another thing is the dog, Mrs. F's little princess. She's short, but not little, muscular and strong as hell. If you know anything about Australian Cattle Dogs, they are smart, independent, and stubborn, sorta like me. Well, thanks to their breeding, Cattle Dogs herd cattle by nipping at their ankles to get them to go where the dog wants. Well, since our little Shayna has no cattle to work, she finds herself little jobs. One is getting us to the phone when it rings. If you've ever gotten a nip in the ass from one of these dogs well . . . let's just say it leaves a mark.

My point is that the dog looks at little kids as cattle. She tries to keep them together and won't let them run around. So today, not only do I have to keep an eye on the Mrs.' breakable shit, but I have to watch her little varmint like a hawk so she doesn't nip one of the kids. Can't break the dog of that habit, it's instinct.

If your kid gets nipped in the ankle by an Australian Cattle Dog, you're gonna have a lot of crying on your hands, trust me. If you're gonna get a mutt, use this rule of thumb. A mutt will generally act like the breed it most closely resembles.

My point is that if you're gonna get a dog, do it for the right reasons. Don't have big plans until you see what kind of dog you have, it's personality and it's traits. Get a dog because you want a pet and a companion. Anything else that flows from there is gravy.

Heed my words, Lugnut.

It's not the dog (yes, some dogs do have genetic mental problems but it's a small percentage of the whole) it's the owners. Dogs are either pets or tools. If your dog is a pet, you have to treat it like one and make it a part of your family. Chaining it to a dog house in the backyard or locking them in the basement and forgetting about them is only a recipie for disaster. They crave companionship and love as much as we do and a dog who's neglected develops the same problems as neglected children. Be responsible please.

Hoo boy

To wit:

Stuttgart, Germany


The Hawker 144 business jet taxied to the private aviation area and shut down. A lone figure came down the stairs and went directly to the waiting Jaguar limousine. The car left quickly, the driver knowing his passenger's destination in advance.

Schloss Adlersee am Neckar was constructed in 1671 by Graf Ludwig von Adlersee as a retreat from the business of ruling this little section of Germany that had now become a major industrial area. Overlooking the River Neckar, the castle's battlements commanded the waterway, an excellent field of fire ensured against a landing by his enemies' troops. It was a medieval Gothic fort that had been updated into a luxurious home by the current owner.

Grafin Inge von Adlersee was the epitome of Aryan royalty. Though her title was purely ceremonial, von Adlersee lived the part of German Duchess. She had the money, the sole heiress of Herbert and Frieda von Adlersee, sole owners of von Adlersee Export of Stuttgart GmbH., a rail, truck, and shipping concern with operations in Stuttgart, Bremerhaven, Paris, London, and New York. Twenty-two year old Inge was an incredibly wealthy woman.

Beautiful as well, tall, a shade over six feet, golden hair, and sapphire blue eyes that could freeze boiling water. No one would think of her as anything but German, even with the deep bronze tan. Flatley noticed the tan and her beautifully proportioned figure as soon as she entered the parlor.

"Good evening, my Lord," she said in King's English.

"Guten abend, Grafin von Adlersee," he replied in flawless Hochdeutsch. She put her arms around his neck and drew him toward her, kissing his lips passionately. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and she bit down on it, causing him to pull away.

"Not yet, liebling," she purred.

He tasted blood and she could see it aroused him. He came to her again and pulled her close, his smile was lustful. "I wish you hadn't gone to Nice, I missed you," he said before kissing her once more.

She let his tongue in her mouth then, letting him explore with it. "You could have come," her breath was ragged in his ear.

His bites on her neck went from playful to painful, and it stimulated her. "I have this nasty business to look over, my darling," he whispered. His manhood began to swell against her thigh. "And I don't do well in the sun." From afar, they heard one of the servants clear his throat. They released each other and turned to him.

"Dinner is served, my Lady," the butler said.

Inge kissed him again, and looked down at the erection that was tenting Flatley's pants. She took it in her hand and squeezed. "Keep that thought, my Lord."

. . .

His breath came quickly, ragged as she stood over him, and his erection felt as if it were about to burst. His hands were cuffed behind his back as he knelt there naked, on the floor of a room that could only have been built for one purpose.

"You English," she spat at him. "British men are weaklings."

"Yes, Mistress," he said, keeping his eyes focused on the floor as she circled him, her spike heels echoing through the room as they met the floor. She'd changed, from the formal gown into a leather outfit, reminiscent of the SS uniforms of Nazi Germany. She slapped the back of his head.

"The Americans fucked all your women during the war, at least that's what my grandfather told me," she said. She whipped him once across the shoulders with her riding crop and tears welled up in his eyes. "Your women liked the strong Americans much better than their pale little men."

"Yes, Mistress," he said demurely. Flatley's eyes found his manhood, his raging stiffness that screamed for release. Dampness appeared at the tip, which she noticed.

"Oh no you don't, weakling!" She slapped him again. "You will pleasure me first, before you may be allowed to feel pleasure. If your efforts are less than satisfactory, you will get no pleasure." She unbuckled, and then unzipped, her leather pants, the two gold zippers running from the waist to her ankle. Inge stepped out and kicked them away. Pulling a stool from the corner, she placed it before him and sat. With a gloved hand, she grabbed a shock of his wavy brown hair and spread her legs, pulling his face into her. "Pleasure me now." She forced the back of his head as he lapped at her like a thirsty animal.

. . .

"Don't you dare," Inge growled. She could tell Flatley was losing control and cracked her riding crop across his chest, raising another welt. When she deemed he'd earned this, she released him, only to bind his wrists and ankles to the bed. Inge straddled him, riding his manhood as if she were atop a horse, using her fingers to help her achieve release again. "I'm not finished," she moaned.

"I can't . . . hold it . . ."

"You will," and she slapped his face. She felt it then, the sensation that told her orgasm was imminent, and she slammed herself down on him, harder, burying him inside her wetness. "Oh, yes," she screamed as waves of pleasure wracked her body.

"Please, Mistress, I can't . . ." Flatley pleaded. She rose from him and untied one of his arms before straddling his face.

"You may," she conceded, and he took his free hand to bring himself the rest of the way while his tongue explored her, bringing her to release once more.

From Technocracy - © 2005 RH Wood and Blue Dog Ltd.

Or:

Sedona, Arizona


Kim, Winters, and Clayton sat in the back of the S-76, the four surviving policemen were handcuffed facing them, their eyes directed to the floor for they knew that they had died last night when NoahCorp security took them into custody. What would happen in a few minutes was just a formality. Their destination was just over the next ridge.

. . .

Many years ago, a researcher named Pavlov put forth the hypothesis of conditioned response. He would ring a bell just before he fed his research dogs. He done this for a period, and then one day, he rang the bell, but was not forthcoming with the dogs' dinner. Pavlov found that the dogs would salivate upon hearing the bell in anticipation of food. Dogs, most of the theories in training them involved the conditioned response. This didn't only apply for domesticated dogs.

They began to salivate when they heard the rotor blades of the S-76 for they were dogs, and this was a conditioned response. This secluded valley was where these dogs lived, not domesticated dogs and not wolves. These were the feral dogs of the Australian Outback, the dingoes. Numbering close to a hundred, the dingoes were fed every day by helicopter, and they were fed live meals, mainly feral pigs, also a product of the Australian wilderness and a danger to the ecosystem there. NoahCorp subsidized efforts to capture the pigs and transport them to Sedona as food for the dingoes. Twice daily, a helicopter would fly low and drop several live feral pigs to the dogs.

As the chopper approached, the dogs began to circle, their drooling jaws pointing skyward in anticipation of their breakfast.

. . .

The helicopter pulled into a hover and Winters opened the side door. The dingoes below, seeing the door open, began to get agitated. Clayton removed the cuffs from one of the policemen. Kim nodded to Winters.

"This is for Carrie," she snarled as she grabbed him by his garments and threw him from the aircraft.

"Watch," Winters growled at the remaining three. They raised their eyes to see their comrade trying to stand, the dingoes circling him. A milky white bone stuck from his arm at a crazy angle, the compound fracture earned by his fall from the chopper. Blood poured from it onto the ground; some of the dogs began lapping at the dark stain, then at the blood dripping from his fingers into their drooling mouths.

His head spun from side to side, looking for a place of safety to which he could run. The dogs began shriek then, as only dingoes do, agitation was turning into frenzy among the pack. The Alpha dog, the dominant male, circled the prey, biting and shrieking at others who would try to eat before him. Alpha surged toward the man, and the pack followed in their insane bloodlust, to nip at his ankles, then his calves. He started to run.

One of the three turned his head to the floor, unable to watch what was coming, for the dingoes tasted the blood now, and they were hungry. Winters smashed the butt of her pistol into his face.

"Watch," she demanded and the man raised his eyes to see the dingoes take his comrade down; first tearing at his clothes then the flesh beneath. In their frenzy, they tore at him, and he screamed, inaudible to those in the helicopter, but he screamed at them for his life or to end it quickly, and he screamed for another excruciatingly long minute as the wild dogs tore him apart.

Kim nodded at Winters and the next man met the same fate, and the next, until the last, and this was done on purpose, for the last living member of Masterson's private army was a woman.

Kim looked to her now, the front of her clothes covered with her own vomit, her eyes glazed over after watching the horror that would surely visit her in a minute. "Do you want to live?" Kim asked quietly, a hatred glowing in the jade orbs.

"Yes," the shattered woman replied from that far off place.

"Will you cooperate with us, truthfully?"

"Yes, I will, I will do anything not to die like that," she said as vomit rose in her throat again.

Kim nodded to Clayton who spoke to the pilot. "Take us back."

From Lightning Crashes - © 2002 RH Wood and Blue Dog Ltd.

From the mouth of Babes Babs

For all our Kal-ee-for-nya voters, here's an e-mail from Senator Babs to my wife laying it all out. She never sends me anything! Oh well, I guess the gals stick together.

Dear Mrs. G,

Next Tuesday, Californians will head to the polls to vote in a special election organized by Governor Schwarzenegger and his right-wing allies. It's critical that we stand up and be counted on these important issues.

So I wanted to take just a moment to write to you since many of you have asked me how I plan to vote.

Please join me in voting NO on 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, and 78, and YES on 79. Here's why:

VOTE NO on Proposition 73

Proposition 73 is just the latest attempt by right-wing conservatives to take away a woman's right to choose. This dangerous measure would jeopardize the health of our teenagers, when we should instead be focusing our efforts on preventing teen pregnancy. Prop. 73 unwisely tries to legislate family communication and unrealistically expects teenagers to navigate through a cumbersome and confusing judicial process.

As the San Francisco Chronicle said in their editorial opposing Prop. 73, "The way to reduce abortion is not a law that requires frightened young women to either face a judge or the wrath of their parents. It's about increasing communication -- about sex, about choices, about consequences -- that prevents an accidental pregnancy in the first place." Vote NO on 73.

VOTE NO on Proposition 74

Proposition 74 is an effort to divert attention from the real problems facing California's public schools by turning teachers into scapegoats. The initiative does nothing to improve California's public schools -- and could actually harm them by making it harder to recruit good teachers.

Schools in California can already dismiss teachers found to be deficient during their first two years of service without a hearing. In fact, every local school has a system in place to deal with struggling teachers. At a time when we should be encouraging people to choose a career in teaching, Prop. 74 will hurt those recruitment efforts by not affording due process to those in the teaching profession who do so much for California's children. Vote NO on 74.

VOTE NO on Proposition 75

Prop. 75 targets teachers, nurses, firefighters and police officers with new political restrictions designed to weaken their ability to advocate for better schools, patient care, and public safety. That's why campaign watchdogs like the League of Women Voters of California oppose Prop. 75. Corporations already outspend unions on politics 24-1, according to the nonpartisan Center for Responsive Politics. Yet the governor's corporate campaign contributors put Prop. 75 on the ballot to increase their grip on our government, and make it easier for the governor to pass his harmful agenda. Vote NO on 75.

VOTE NO on Proposition 76

Proposition 76 is an attempted power grab by Governor Schwarzenegger that gives him the power to bypass the legislature and make cuts to the budget without any oversight or public approval. Prop. 76 does not protect education funding -- and it would in fact reduce the long-term Prop. 98 school spending guarantee by $4 billion per year. Under Prop. 76, local governments could also lose hundreds of millions of dollars for police, firefighters, health care and social service programs. Vote NO on 76.

VOTE NO on Proposition 77

Proposition 77 is a flawed redistricting initiative that cuts out the public, has no accountability provision, and is unfair to those most underrepresented.

This is another clear power grab by the Governor and his allies who reach all the way to the most conservative Republicans in Washington, DC. Vote NO on 77.

VOTE NO on Proposition 78 and VOTE YES on Proposition 79

Everybody knows we need to do more to make prescription drugs more affordable. So let's do it right.

Proposition 79 will provide real prescription drug discounts to seniors and lower income Californians who need them the most. Prop. 79 will also establish a pharmacy assistance program to help businesses, small employer purchasing pools, and labor organization health and welfare funds -- among others -- receive the same pharmacy discounts and rebates from drug makers. Finally, drug companies would be held accountable by a state advisory board that would review the pricing and access of prescription drugs under the program.

Prop. 79 will make a difference. Proposition 78, on the other hand, calls for a voluntary system and at the end of the day will mean little or nothing for the people of California. So vote NO on 78 and YES on 79.

In Friendship,

Barbara Boxer

Thanks, Babs, but we're way ahead of you. The real reason to vote no on Ah-nold's proposals is that he proposed them. He spent about $80mil on this idiotic special election hoping nobody but his supporters would show up to vote. Fuck him. Prop 78 is sponsored by Big Pharma, so that's no, and we're not doing anything to diminish a woman's right to choose or place her in jeopardy, so 73 is out.