Yay, me!

I just now saw that Blog on the Run turned over 20,000 hits today. That’s not much compared with Glenn Reynolds, but it’s a milestone nonetheless.

The 20,000th hit came at 3:20 p.m. Eastern and was referred from the American Press Institute’s list of journalism-related blogs.

I’d like to thank the literally threes of people who help keep this blog one of the danker locations on the Internet. Oh, and the academy. God bless you all, and God bless America. Did I forget anything? No? OK, I’m going then.

Question of the day

J. writes: My spellchecker wants to replace “g********” with Gouda. Are they the same thing?

I answer: No. Gouda tastes much better.

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If this is true, my son will live forever

I have no idea whether this is true — a quick check of the usual legend-busting suspects turned up nothing — but in this article, a doctor claims that sinus mining is good and good for you.

Innsbruck-based lung specialist Prof Dr Friedrich Bischinger said people who pick their noses with their fingers were healthy, happier and probably better in tune with their bodies.He says society should adopt a new approach to nose-picking and encourage children to take it up. …

“And eating the dry remains of what you pull out is a great way of strengthening the body’s immune system. … “

Wasn’t it Nietzsche who said, “What doesn’t kill* me makes me stronger”? I guess I’d better get to pickin’, because after reading this I’m about to die.

*Actually, it’s “What does not DESTROY me … “

Really bad Jesus movies and how to avoid them

Some really timely advice, courtesy of Big Arm Woman. My personal favorite:

7. Lots of eyeliner = visual shorthand for morally compromised. See: Mary Magdalene and Judas. It makes you want to yell at the screen: “No, Jesus! Don’t trust him! Don’t you see he’s just a shill for Mary Kay? This can only end badly!”

Life on Mars?

Not only have enough traces of water been found on Mars to suggest that the planet might once have held life, enough methane has been found in its atmosphere to suggest that there might be life there right now:

Methane is not a stable molecule in the Martian atmosphere. If it was not replenished in some way, it would only last a few hundred years before it vanished.Scientists see two possibilities, both of them scientifically important, but one of them is sensational. …

It is possible that the methane is being produced by volcanic activity. … So far, no active volcanic hotspots have been detected on the planet by the many spacecraft currently in orbit.

[But] if active volcanism were responsible then it would be a major discovery with important implications. The heat released by any volcanism would melt the vast quantities of sub-surface ice discovered on the planet, producing an environment suitable for life.

On Earth, there are organisms called methanogens - microbes that produce methane from hydrogen and carbon dioxide. These organisms do not need oxygen to thrive, and they are thought to be the type of microbes that could possibly live on Mars.

The twin US space agency rovers that landed on the Red Planet in January will be unable to answer the question of the methane’s origin as they are designed for geological work.
But future missions could include sensors to analyse the methane to determine where it came from.

Methanogens are better known by their vernacular name: politicians.

Getting tigered up

Big soccer weekend for V — her team not only had to play its regular game Saturday, it also had to make up a game on Sunday that had been snowed out in the season’s first weekend. Yeah, you read that right. Snowed out. In North Carolina.

Saturday’s game was against the Dominoes, who were bigger, stronger, faster and rougher. They led by as much as 4-1 before the Tigers got tigered up late in the second half. Victoria scored the tying goal with 1 minute left on a spectacular play (well, spectacular for a 5-year-old who only started playing the game in September), outdribbling a pair of defenders and launching a perfectly angled kick from far to the right of the goal that just kissed the far post before hitting the net.

Unfortunately, the Dominoes got two breakaway goals in the last minute to account for the final margin.

This afternoon’s game was against the team with the best name in the league, the Mini Mias. And there was nothing mini about them, particularly the two Amazonian blondes who took the field in the second and fourth quarters (the third member of that trio was Victoria’s friend A. from church choir). Another Tiger’s dad joked about asking to see their birth certificates. At least I think he was joking. He wasn’t smiling.

They, too, were bigger, stronger, faster and rougher (one girl cleared out with her left arm in a way that would’ve gotten five fouls in a hurry in an ACC basketball game), and they ran to a 5-2 lead.

But they also made the mistake of bringing the Tigers up to their level of play. Well, not quite, but darned close: The Tigers made up in speed what they lacked in dribbling and passing skill, and Victoria and her teammate O. each scored twice in route to a tied 5-5 final. (One of the Tigers’ goals came an own-goal from one of the Mini Mias, but still.) The coach’s daughter didn’t score but made at least two goal-saving defensive plays, as did another Tiger, A. Coach and I both shook our heads at the outcome; I’d figured they were going to beat us by at least four.

Victoria, who can have very tender feelings sometimes, told me afterward, “Daddy, one of those girls kicked me in the leg and it hurt and it made me sad and I wanted to come out of the game, but I just kept playing because I wanted to win.” I’m going to count that as a lesson learned.

Here’s the funny part: Neither regular coach can be here next week because of a Boy Scout camping trip and a new baby, respectively. So I, who last played soccer more than 30 years ago, will be coaching Friday’s practice and next Saturday’s game. Any and all tips appreciated.

Stay tuned; this ought to be entertaining.

Getting tigered up

Big soccer weekend for V — her team not only had to play its regular game Saturday, it also had to make up a game on Sunday that had been snowed out in the season’s first weekend. Yeah, you read that right. Snowed out. In North Carolina.

Saturday’s game was against the Dominoes, who were bigger, stronger, faster and rougher. They led by as much as 4-1 before the Tigers got tigered up late in the second half. Victoria scored the tying goal with 1 minute left on a spectacular play (well, spectacular for a 5-year-old who only started playing the game in September), outdribbling a pair of defenders and launching a perfectly angled kick from far to the right of the goal that just kissed the far post before hitting the net.

Unfortunately, the Dominoes got two breakaway goals in the last minute to account for the final margin.

This afternoon’s game was against the team with the best name in the league, the Mini Mias. And there was nothing mini about them, particularly the two Amazonian blondes who took the field in the second and fourth quarters (the third member of that trio was Victoria’s friend A. from church choir). Another Tiger’s dad joked about asking to see their birth certificates. At least I think he was joking. He wasn’t smiling.

They, too, were bigger, stronger, faster and rougher (one girl cleared out with her left arm in a way that would’ve gotten five fouls in a hurry in an ACC basketball game), and they ran to a 5-2 lead.

But they also made the mistake of bringing the Tigers up to their level of play. Well, not quite, but darned close: The Tigers made up in speed what they lacked in dribbling and passing skill, and Victoria and her teammate O. each scored twice in route to a tied 5-5 final. (One of the Tigers’ goals came an own-goal from one of the Mini Mias, but still.) The coach’s daughter didn’t score but made at least two goal-saving defensive plays, as did another Tiger, A. Coach and I both shook our heads at the outcome; I’d figured they were going to beat us by at least four.

Victoria, who can have very tender feelings sometimes, told me afterward, “Daddy, one of those girls kicked me in the leg and it hurt and it made me sad and I wanted to come out of the game, but I just kept playing because I wanted to win.” I’m going to count that as a lesson learned.

Here’s the funny part: Neither regular coach can be here next week because of a Boy Scout camping trip and a new baby, respectively. So I, who last played soccer more than 30 years ago, will be coaching Friday’s practice and next Saturday’s game. Any and all tips appreciated.

Stay tuned; this ought to be entertaining.

‘Til death did them part

They swore to spend the rest of their lives together. And so they did.

“Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?”

Susan Madrak at The American Street compares the administration to “Animal House,” and you don’t have to be a liberal to enjoy it.

But of course

Of course I did. I was a freakin’ disc jockey for five years.

This is a particularly tough quiz in that spelling counts. With that taken into account, the only ones I missed were from a Chicago song and some from some songs I always changed stations on or turned the volume down on because they were so annoying, like “Died In Your Arms Tonight.”

Also: Not so much with the leg warmers, but around the time of “Purple Rain,” I was all about the parachute pants.

(Thanks to Jaden for the link.)

Separated at birth?

Sheikh Ahmed Yassin

Fidel Castro

(Phred had this idea.)

At least they’re not publishing racist T-shirts …

Two Detroit City Council members threaten to turn off the TV cameras and take their disagreement outside.

Two female members.

Overheard today at work

Co-worker 1: I almost went for the pork rinds.

Co-worker 2: You and George Bush.

Co-worker 1: Huh?

Co-worker 2: The first one.

Co-worker 1: Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that.

Co-worker 2: I can’t decide. On the one hand, there’s the Little Debbie Double Decker Oatmeal Crème Pie. But that probably has about 50 gazillion grams of fat.

Co-worker 1: In addition to being chemically impervious.

Co-worker 2: To what?

Co-worker 1: Pretty much everything, I think.

Co-worker 2: I guess I’ll just get the plain M&Ms. They don’t have any fat.*

Co-worker 1: Just carbohydrates.

Co-worker 2: Right.

Co-worker 1: But if you don’t burn those off, they turn into fat.**

Co-worker 2: No, they don’t.

Co-worker 1: Yes, they do.

Co-worker 2: No, they really don’t. Because of entropy, the Second Law of Thermodynamics, that stuff.

Co-worker 1: Ah.

Co-worker 2: Carbohydrate molecules are smaller than fat molecules. So fat molecules break down into carbohydrates. Carbohydrate molecules don’t build up into fats.**

Co-worker 1: Ah.

Co-worker 2: Entropy.

Co-worker 3: You guys have the most interesting conversations.

Co-worker 1: But it’s all in code.

Co-worker 2: Yeah, we’re really talking about what a [jerk] you are.

Co-worker 3: Oh. Well, at least I’ve got that going for me, then. Now gimme some M&Ms.

*Actually, one 1.69-ounce pack contains 10g of fat, 6g of that saturated. Which is only one of many reasons why our vending machines ought to offer SweeTarts, which are fat- and cholesterol-free, if not exactly Atkins-friendly. But I digress.

**DISCLAIMER: This might not actually be completely accurate.

Everybody wants to rule the world. Here’s how.

The Top 100 Things I’d Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord.

My personal favorite would probably be No. 34: “I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.”

Must. Destroy. Lipids.

It just occurred to me, apropos of absolutely nothing, that Lipitor sounds like the title character in a Japanese monster movie.