Not the Solstice, but the Longest Day of the Summer

Today was the first day of a new end-of-summer fundraiser for my organization. The pre-ordered ticket sales were lackadaisical, but somehow, in the course of the day, the event took on a life of its own. I don't know where they came from, but over a thousand people descended upon the site, and a good time was had by all. There was live music by two bands, and a beer tent. The contractor who "conceptualizes" the special events was dumbfounded by the sudden influx of visitors.

Of course, the temperature was pushing 90, with high humidity. Much of my day was spent walking the grounds with a half-gallon jug of water, refilled periodically at the water cooler/filtration system, making sure that all of our employees were well-hydrated. Whenever someone has a medical problem, such as heat prostration, I have to fill out paperwork. As it is, I have to fill out two incident reports- one woman fell in our parking lot and injured her knee, and EMS was called, whereupon they took a blood pressure reading and iced her knee. She declined further medical attention. About three hours later, another visitor twisted her ankle and, once again, EMS was called. Once again her ankle was iced and she and her husband decided that they would return to New Jersey and visit hospital closer to their home if it were warranted. He was a really nice guy, and she was a trouper.

I'm working a double, due to a thinly-spread workforce in my department. I have time to fill out two incident report based on the notes I took while EMS was on site. The day involved a lot of running around and I have to admit that I didn't even realize that I was sore and chafe-y until I slowed down after everyone left for the day. Sure, it wasn't the summer solstice, but it was the longest day of the summer... and will be until tomorrow, when I get to repeat the fun.

I'd go home and drink a shitton of beer, but I have set the alarm for eight AM. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

Blinded by the Light

This morning, I headed over to the local focal mill to get a new pair of glasses. Before picking out a set of frames, I needed an eye examination. I was a walk-in, but I got to the optometrists' office just as the staff was raising the gate, and was seen before any of the people who had made appointments.

As part of the full eye exam, I had to have my pupils dilated. If any of you haven't had this procedure done, the doctor puts some eyedrops into your eyes that fully dilate your pupils for a few hours. Of course, this makes your vision somewhat blurry for about half an hour, and admits a lot more light into your eyes than is typical. It also makes your eyes look freaky, with your iris looking like a slender ring around your huge pupils. I always find myself compulsively staring into the mirror after this procedure.

After picking out frames and getting a measurement of my melon done, I headed out the door of the optometrists' office and blinked in the barely tolerable glare for a moment before donning a hilariously hideous set of disposable sunglasses made out of cardboard and cellophane. Luckily, I live close to the office, so I was able to get home without incidence.

Having a few hours to kill before having to get ready for work, I decided to take a nap. My eyes still weren't 100% back to normal, do I figured that the path of least resistance was the path of wisdom. There's no need to be blinded by the light when one can just sack out, no matter what Bruce says:

Cynical About Syria

Not even a day after celebrating the legacy of America's most famous pacifist, the President is discussing military strikes against Bashar al-Assad's regime in Syria. President Obama indicated that the use of chemical weapons by the Syrian regime would constitute a red line, which is to say, his line of death. The decision on the part of lawmakers in the UK not to join in on military strikes against Syria is not going to matter much, the ramped-up war rhetoric is great for Lockheed Martin's stock price, and a barrage of cruise missiles would be even better.

Meanwhile, the Armageddon fans are as giddy as schoolkids with first crushes.

Conservatives Have Dreams Too!

This being the 50th Anniversary of the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, conservatives are in full bull goose loony mode. Conservatives make laughable claims about King being a conservative (these depend on conflating "Republican" and "Conservative", and completely ignoring The Southern Strategy, which encouraged racist southern whites to flee the Democratic Party into the warm embrace of the GOP) and making false assumptions about what King really believed. Black conservatives claim that liberals are appropriating King's legacy while remaining silent about a white lunatic ham-fistedly trying to appropriate it. Conservatives tend to get even stupider than usual when confronting MLK's legacy.

This year, we have some extra-stupid conservative proclamations... you see, conservatives have dreams too! America's Dead Beat Dad, Joe Walsh dreams that black males won't do what he himself did unapologetically. Jonah Goldberg dreams that he has something relevant to say about King. Perhaps the craziest dream of all is Laura Ingraham's dream in which Representative John Lewis' speech is silenced by gunfire (of course, John Lewis bled for the civil rights movement, and faced numerous death threats, so this "proxy assassination" is nothing new).

Of course, the Conservative dreams are a nightmare to others, but at least they dream, much like Cthulhu.

How about scrubbing those nasty Conservative dreams from your brain? How about a listen to MLK's speech, the most memorable portion of which was delivered extemporaneously inspired in part by a spirited performance by Gospel great Mahalia Jackson?





Here's Mahalia's song, as an added bonus:





Cross-posted at Rumproast.

I've Been to Weird Places on the Internet

This is a weird time of year... the end-of-summer doldrums have set in, bringing with them writer's block and low visitation/commentary. Combine that with a work schedule that has largely unmoored me from the typical temporal tides of the Eastern Time Zone, and you get a recipe for weirdness. Anyway, I've been to weird places on the internet lately.

Perhaps the greatest thing I found in my delvings was a picture of Captain Kirk and Mr Spock as six-legged centaurs. On first seeing the picture, I thought, "Hmmm... two centaur d00ds about to get it on", then I noticed they bore the faces of Kirk and Spock... whoa... then I saw that they had six legs. I think I love you, internet. The story illustrates a slashfic in which, you got it, Kirk and Spock get it on as six-legged "centauroids". I know I love you internet.

Further poking around the internet reveals that Star Trek Centaurs are, as the kids would say, a thing. In the interest of diversity, here's Kirk as a merman riding centaur Spock. Here's one of Mr Spock as a centaur sporting a "Slave Girl Leia" braid.

Gotta love the "fanfic" community, they're the ones smart enough to see the awesomeness of a pregnant Harry Potter or the erotic potential of a Kirk/Horta encounter. Why, I even found some crazy bastard who wrote Yukon Cornelius/Abominable Snowmonster slashfic.

Yeah, I'm not down on the fanfic or even the slashfic community. As centaur Dick Valentine would say, "Everybody's cool!"

The Company Picnic

Today, the organization is going to have it's staff picnic. It's a great opportunity for everybody from the various sites and divisions to gather together to socialize. Typically, one of my co-workers gives a presentation... we're a talented bunch, all told... and we have a variety of games and activities. This year, there will be a dessert contest and my co-worker **REDACTED** made some strawberry margarita jello shots to enter into the contest. Things should get a little interesting, as most of my co-workers don't seem to be big boozers (I hold up my end of the bargain).

I'm at the tail end of a graveyard shift, so I'll need to shave and clean myself up to make myself presentable before heading to the picnic site. I always bring a change of clothes to work- when there are visitors on site, I wear "business casual", but I change into a T-shirt and gym shorts or sweats when I am alone on site holding down the fort. Today, I'll reverse the trend.

I just hope I don't konk out face-first in the macaroni salad.

After Yesterday's Ifukube Lovefest

Yesterday's post was one long love letter to Japanese composer Akira Ifukube. I have to confess, though, as much as I love Ifukube's work, my favorite classic Japanese movie soundtrack is Satô Masaru's more jazz-inspired score to one of my all-time favorite movies, Akira Kurosawa's 1961 Yojimbo, a brilliant, bloody film that Sergio Leone remade as A Fistful of Dollars. With no further ado, here's the opening theme to Yojimbo:





If you haven't seen the movie, you really need to get your hands on a copy of it now. The movie is a blackly humorous, violent period piece about an amoral man who manipulates two factions of even worse men into a conflict so that he can profit from the ensuing chaos. If you have an entire day to fritter away watching movies, a Yojimbo/Fist Full of Dollars double feature would give you an entire month's recommended allowance of badassery.

A while back, I envisioned Paula Deen playing her fans' stomachs off against their pancreases in order to make money. I think one more coffin is needed for her career.