It's a Sign

My maternal grandmother had an unsettling habit of predicting the "end of days." She would take an unseasonal bout of weather (too much rain, a period of drought, a snow in April) and would somehow extrapolate the end of the world from it. And she'd always start it in the same way "Well it says in the Bible that in the end of days..." following that up with the current sign that surely this earth was doomed. She was convinced that the world would end before she did. She was also convinced that she'd be dead before the next Christmas. Ultimately, she lived to be 93 and managed to bury two sons, two husbands, and all of her siblings. I'm sure if she heard this news story from India (via Reuters news service) she'd cluck her tongue a couple of times and say "Well, it says in the Bible...."

Meat Loving Calf Eats Chickens

KOLKATA, India (Reuters) - When dozens of chickens went missing from a remote West Bengal village, everyone blamed the neighborhood dogs.

But Ajit Ghosh, the owner of the missing chickens, eventually solved the puzzle when he caught his cow -- a sacred animal for the Hindu family -- gobbling up several of them at night.

"We were shocked to see our calf eating chickens alive," Ghosh told Reuters by phone from Chandpur village.

The family decided to stand guard at night on Monday at the cow shed which also served as a hen coop, after 48 chickens went missing in a month.

"Instead of the dogs, we watched in horror as the calf, whom we had fondly named Lal, sneak to the coop and grab the little ones with the precision of a jungle cat," Gour Ghosh, his brother, said.

Local television pictures showed the cow grabbing and eating a chicken in seconds and a vet confirmed the case.

"We think lack of vital minerals in the body is causing this behavior. We have taken a look and have asked doctors to look into the case immediately," Mihir Satpathy, a district veterinary officer, said by phone.

"This strange behavior is possible in some exceptional cases," Satpathy said.

Hundreds of villagers flocked to Chandpur on Wednesday to catch a glimpse of Lal, enjoying his bundle of green grass for a change.

"The local vets said the cow was probably suffering from a disease but others said Lal was a tiger in his previous birth," Ajit added.

Things That Make Me Smile

Bjork's Spumco animated video for "I Miss You" (I wanted to post that and just be done with it, but the samples on YouTube were lacking.) Oh, yea, she has a new album coming out in May.

Cats that look like Hitler.

Lil' Kim rapping about cunnilingus.

The Conservapedia website in general and the Bonobos Chimpaneze entry in particular.

The words skosh, gimcrack, poetaster, kerfuffle, hullabaloo, yes and happy hour drink special (in no particular order.)

Vermont.

Ironically Enough, a Story from "the Intelligencer"

According to the Wheeling Intelligencer, a Martin's Ferry, Ohio man asked a friend to shoot him in order to avoid a court appearance for a rape charge. The gunshot victim, John Amos, apparently “...thought it would be best if he were shot. They drove to the location, and Mr. Amos told Houston, ‘If you don’t shoot me, I’ll shoot you.’ They struggled for the gun, and Amos guided Houston’s hand to his stomach, and Houston pulled the trigger ... You couldn’t make this stuff up.”

No, no you couldn't.

Amos, his wife, and Houston have all been arrested.

From "The Daily Dish"

I read a lot of political blogs and among my daily pull list is Andrew Sullivan's Daily Dish. On a lot of issues I find him infuriating, but he is at least a conservative with a functioning philosophy that's not just ideology or dogma. He has a post up ("The Barbarians") about sectarian bombing attacks in Iraq. Yesterday a book market was targeted. The accompanying photo for the post is stunning and there is a trenchant quote from an Iraqi poet. Click here for the original post.

Take Your Protein Pills and Put Your Helmets On

At long last, our national nightmares are over: Anna Nicole is interred, Britney may or may not be scribbling 666 on her head in rehab (if you believe the British press), and Scooter Libby's been found guilty on 4 of 5 counts. But what's next for my favorite space case, Lisa Nowak. We know she's not being charged for attempted murder. Today's Orlando Sentinel has an article with email snippets from Colleen Shipman's emails to Bill Oefelein giving us some framing for the story.

Frankly the snippets released in the story have me siding with Nowak on this. From the Sentinel's story:

"First urge will be to rip your clothes off," reads one of the notes from Air Force Capt. Colleen Shipman to Oefelein while he was aboard shuttle Discovery in December. "But honestly, love, I want you to totally and thoroughly enjoy your hero's homecoming."

***

During his 13-day mission as the pilot of Discovery, he carried a charm given him by Shipman and photographed it floating inside the shuttle cabin, records show. He later e-mailed the picture to Shipman, but she had trouble seeing the trinket.

"I don't see the charm though! *pant, pant*," Shipman e-mailed back to Oefelein. "It's like those erotic hidden picture games that they have at the bar ..... only you're fully clothed in the picture."

***

Oefelein previously had given Nowak a key to his Houston apartment as well as his password for access to his home computer, he said. Police found copies of his password as well as Shipman's handwritten flight itinerary from Houston to Orlando when they arrested Nowak at the airport, records show.

During a visit to Oefelein's apartment, Shipman told police she noticed some information about Nowak saved on his computer. He explained that Nowak sometimes used his computer, Shipman said.

"I told him that it made me very uncomfortable and it made me want to pull away from this relationship cause it made me think that he didn't quite cut ties maybe," Shipman said in her statement.

A few days later, Shipman's concern proved prophetic.

"We went to a club in Houston," Shipman recalled in her interview with police. "And then we came home and we had a few drinks, and we were laying in bed and he called me Lisa."

Not That Guy

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 3,545 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I go by my initials--have since I was a kid, but my given first name is Robert. I generally only use it for business-related purposes. It's also a nice dodge to ward off unwanted calls--if someone calls wanting "Robert," "Bob," or "Rob" Gibson I know I pretty much don't want to talk to them. And if they ask if they can call me "Bob" or "Rob" I make it pretty clear that no, in fact, they can-friggin'-not. But I digress.

My name being relatively common has lead to little bits of confusion in my daily life: being told at the DMV that I could not have a license because it was suspended (turned out it was another Robert Gibson in the southern part of the state) and most frequently receiving calls, bills, and mail for some other Robert Gibson from my doctor's office. Apparently they don't bother to check files against their databases. Needless to say, it's annoying when these little things happen.

It's another thing entirely to find out that one of my namesakes, one of the 3,544 other Robert Gibsons is a criminal.

(Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority)

I have to admit though, I admire his patience. $40,000.00 one token at a time. From the Boston Globe:

After working 20 years as an MBTA electrician, retiree Robert Gibson was accused today of spending much of his career slowly stealing from the transit authority, quarter by quarter, token by token -- taking just enough so no one would notice as he repaired fare collection boxes....

Gibson drew the attention of investigators when he was spotted on several occasions pumping handfuls of tokens into fare vending machines at Wellington station. He was adding the tokens, each worth $1.25, onto CharlieCards, which hold a value of up to $100. Surveillance cameras filmed him depositing at least $3,500 in tokens onto 45 CharlieCards, they added.

When MBTA police went to Gibson's home Thursday, authorities said he confessed and led police into his basement. Investigators said they found more than $40,000 in coins and tokens wrapped in small paper bags from local coffee shops and stashed in 17 plastic jugs, each large enough to hold 5 gallons.

I Thought Love Was Only True in Fairytales

Meant for someone else but not for me.

Mad, Mad World

Nothing much to report here...just working on new poems (that hopefully will have titles and everything.) So I'll leave you with a roundup of oddness that caught my eye this morning while I had my coffee and shredded wheat (mini frosted, of course.)

First off, Gustav the Impotent Ostrich

According to Yahoo News, some teens in Germany set off firecrackers, rendering a local's ostrich Gustav impotent. "[The] farmer claims that fireworks set off by the boys made the previously lustful Gustav both apathetic and depressed, and thus unable to perform for a half-a-year with his two female breeding partners." (I'm of course curious as to how something without a penis can be impotent.)


In the Netherlands, "It's always the same — the first ones to shy away are the women. You see that at nudist camps too," said Henk (no last name given.) Shy away from what? Working out nude with "[a ] dozen middle-age and elderly men [who] were game enough for a Dutch gym's invitation to work out nude." Dear, dear Henk....you must be mistaken. Why would any woman in her right mind shy away from this?

I pity the AP photographer trying to find tasteful ways to shoot this.

From the News of the Weird Blog: "Army drill sergeant Edmundo Estrada, 35, has been accused of unorthodox therapy on a depressed trainee, having him dress up as Superman and moan as Estrada did some sexual things to him which Estrada apparently had seen on a porno movie involving a Superman character weakened by kryptonite and moaning as he is sexually tortured."

From the WTF Case Files

I was out running errands this evening, listening to NPR's Weekend Edition. There was a segment discussing the Picassos stolen from his granddaughter's apartment. The guest being interviewed was Thomas McShane--apparently a former FBI agent working in their Art Fraud division. It was a painful few minutes of radio (audio can be found here.) I was startled to learn that it's entirely likely that the theft could be the work of terrorists! To raise money for weapons! Or just to have a piece of art to admire! He also told (what I assume were supposed to be) interesting anecdotes from his past cases. At some point during the interview (I refuse to relisten to pinpoint exactly where it comes) they give a plug for his book Stolen Masterpiece Tracker. Which was followed by the line: "The Dangerous Life of the FBI's Number One Art Sleuth." I thought this was some sort of bald self-promotional hyperbole, the work either of the man himself or some promo-copy flack until I went to Amazon and saw that it's actually on the book's cover. (I'd call it a subtitle, except for the fact that it runs like a marquee across the top of the book, above the title.) Who knew the FBI had Art Sleuths? Who knew they actually were called Sleuths? Who knew the Islamofascists liked art enough to trade it for weapons?

Dribs and Drabs

*Winter is proving to be more persistent than a case of herpes. It's flared up again and there's more snow and craptastic weather. Huzzah.

*I've finished a new poem a little while ago...it needs a title. This strikes me as being much preferable to my usual state: having a title but an incomplete/unsatisfying poem. It's going into a file for a bit so I can revise.

*Brian has adopted a kitten from the Baltimore SPCA. It is gray and white and suitably adorable. I would like my complimentary toaster now for sucking him into the cat people cult. Thank you. You'll be a good cat daddy, I promise.

*Jessica Simpson, apparently, is allergic to cheese (don't ask me why a Google search today lead there). I'm late hearing about this. It disappoints me. There would have been much snark potential had I known earlier when I was incredibly cranky.

*Bjork's Post album makes me unbearably happy.

*Since I was in Baltimore I've been dreaming again.

*DirectTV has started airing the CHILLER channel, specializing in thriller/horror programming. They're airing Twin Peaks. I love the show. It went off the rails in the second season when a mannered quirkiness outweighed menace and unsurety but the first season is solid; it unnerves and inspires me.

*Why do I hate so many famous people from Texas?

*Michael Jackson is the most expensive whore in the world.

*The Arcade Fire have a new album out. I want it. Now.

*I desperately need a haircut. I'm calling tomorrow.

Maybe Posh Has a Point

Maybe Victoria "Posh" Beckham has a point about the power of large sunglasses as an accessory.

Little Box, Little Box of Horrors

I'm no oenophile. Frankly I've found most of the oenophiles I've met pretentious posturing boors. I've never liked wine all that much. Perhaps I've got an unsophisticated palate. I think I just prefer single malt Scotch and Irish whiskey. While I was at Brian's I saw several ads for this new "Fish Eye Wine Cask" which can hold the equivalent of 4 bottles of wine in a refrigerator. Apparently, the pig has a new shade of lipstick. The box of wine that I remember (barely) from college has been resurrected as the "wine cask." They're apparently sinking 4.5 million dollars into advertising this for the first half of 2007, according to the San Francisco Business Times.

Why I Need to Move

As I've said earlier, there are pros and cons of living in a rural area; and it's something I'm frequently conflicted about. Lately though I've felt chafed. I'm not sure if it's because I'm back from Baltimore or what. But I'm sick of simplistic bumper sticker conservatives. I'm also appalled by the Hitch Critters "Don't-Shoot-Deer" trailer hitch attachment. I saw one of these while at a stop light. In action it's far more hideous than the company's promo pictures would have you imagine. The little legs move up and down and the bulls-eye on the belly glows a cheap lurid red. It activates whenever the brakes are applied. Truly, mortifying. At least the truck sporting it didn't have a "Git Er Done" bumper sticker.

The Defense of Marriage Act Should Cover This

According to an arty in the Wall Street Journal (unfortunately behind the firewall) Disney is pairing up with couture bridal designer Kristie Kelly to peddle a line of wedding gowns that will "transform blushing brides into their favorite princesses, complete with billowing gowns and crystal tiaras." According to the paragraph and a half not behind the firewall, the gowns will go for $1,100.00 to $3,000.00. Luckily styledash.com has provided even skimpier details; but if you scroll down, you can read the breathless comments of people who think this is a good idea. Caution: excessive use of exclamation points abounds.

A couple of my favorites

I actually had a real DISNEY FAIRY TALE wedding ten years ago. I would have loved to have this option. Great idea!

This is so awesome! I absolutely love Disney! Everytime a new dvd comes out my boyfriend buys it because he knows how much I love disney. I must have watched Cinderella and The Little Mermaid a hundred times when I was little! I'm getting married in about 3 1/2 yrs and it would be absolutely wonderful if they had these dresses to look at and try on!

Why I'll Never be a Willa Cather Heroine

It occurred to me today, sometime after I got onto I-68, outside Hancock, Maryland that I would have never cut it as a pioneer. I could see the Sideling Hill attraction looming in the distance, snowy and grey. And I dreaded the ascent and subsequent descent. This continued for the rest of the mountains through most of western Maryland. I thought it over and over: you would've never cut it in a wagon train. Today is not the first time that this thought has crossed my mind. I hate hate hate driving over the mountains. I'm not sure why, either. I live in West Virginia for cryin' out loud. But the mountains on I-68 just bother me for some reason. It may be because there are instances when I can see beyond the berms of the interstate and realize just how friggin' high up I am. It could be the steepness or the way the road surface is banked in places. It could be that my ears pop frequently. It could be that I drive a subcompact and I fear for my safety because of the barrelling semis and assorted jackasses that share the road. It could also be as simple as I'm getting old and fearful.

I like to drive. I don't mind driving in cities or places I've never been. Give me a rough map and some idea of what to look for and I'm fine. But that fact, in and of itself, shows my lack of pioneering, adventuresome spirit. I don't mind going if I have even the roughest idea of where. But just set me out on my own or with someone who has a rough idea of where we're headed and I'm screwed--things clench and I feel anxiety attacks comin' on.

Usually the anxiety at some point abates and I'm fine. It seems to be the anticipation that gets me: my imagination and ability to spin out a worst-case scenario are massive--once I'm at the point I feared, in the middle of it, I'm fine. I eventually found myself thinking of other things: why there are so many christian radio stations in western Maryland (not just Protestant/Evangelical, but Catholic); is there any other state with such a state police presence on the roads as Maryland; what is it about Arby's hash browns that do such horrible things to my stomach.

I can manage travelling in a car provided I have cigarettes, distractions, cheap coffee and frequent bathroom breaks. But had you plopped my ass on a covered wagon and expected me to navigate west, I'd have slapped you stupid and stayed put.

Kneel Before Odd

Brandon is guest-blogging at Anything But Poetry while Aaron is away at AWP. He offered up a link to a nifty website about generating your own superheroes. I'll admit it--I'm a comic book geek from way back. I make no apologies or offer no excuses. So this was a fun little diversion after getting back from Baltimore today. I offer you my supervillain alter-ego: Sardonico. Frankly the Jack Kirbyesque energy blasts and boots make it for me.

Apologia Pro Ipse

Dear Baltimore, thank you for your hospitality.

I realize that making out-of-towners feel at home is sometimes difficult and we are sometimes not particularly gracious guests, so I feel like I should apologize for any of my lapses of tact and decorum during my stay.

To the Manager/Staff of Rite-Aid: I'm sorry that I chased a wet pigeon into your foyer during the snow storm on February 25. I never thought it would dart through the automatic doors.

To the impatient bitch in line at Eddie's Grocery on Eager Street: I realize from your cell phone conversation that you had something else to do and somewhere else you'd rather be. Forgive my temerity for being in line first. I'm sorry that you felt the need to mention that someone was in front of you five times in three minutes. I'm sorry that you need a better haircut and intensive conditioning. God forbid once I was out of your way and you were leaving you might have caught your foot in that hole in the sidewalk and fell on your already flat face.

To the driver of the white rape van on the beltway who cut us off: I'm sorry you didn't see us give you the finger.

To the unintelligible woman asking for directions at Wendy's: I'm sorry we couldn't understand a damned word that came out of your mouth and that caused us to be unhelpful.

To the counter girl at Wendy's: I'm sorry I miscounted and initially gave you $10.10 when I should have given you $11.10. I realize you can't see over the cash register without a step stool, but there's no need to shout.

Rear Window(less)

There's a car that's been parked on Park Avenue for about three or four months that's missing its rear window. Brian told me about it a little over a week ago, describing how snow collected inside. Come spring I think it'll have a lovely bunch of sprouts and starts. I told him we should try and find a packet of wildflower seeds if we run to wal-mart and then broadcast them in the back seat. It's a nice humid environment: I peeked in while we were out today and the floor is swampy. Frankly I'm surprised no one has had it towed yet.

Sunday, Bluh Bluh Sunday

It's been a nice weekend so far. The drive here was a little hairy--freaky winds for about 200 miles of my drive Friday--but I just sucked it up and slowed down. They've taken the infamous Virgin billboard down, though I did notice one while I was on I-395. Still no sign of the alleged Virgin buses. We ordered some cheap chinese and stayed in watching dvds.

I was in such a rush to leave Friday morning I ran out of the house without the bag holding my toiletries, foundation garments, pajamas and black boots. Brian had an extra toothbrush so when we were out shopping I picked up some things. We also caught the Reno: 911! Miami movie. It was okay but both of us prefer the show. It's something we always watch when I visit, it seems. When we first really spent time together we watched it all weekend and just laughed til we were stupid. Brian suggests that the budget limitations for the series makes them a little more inventive--I think he's onto something there. For me it's their interactions with the locals that are the funniest bits...that sort of thing was lacking in the movie. Tho there's a good bit with a Bubba in a red speedo that I found funny...but it still felt underdeveloped. The guys behind the movie claim they shot much more footage than showed up in the movie and that there are plans to use it for the DVD release...I'm curious to see what else they had and didn't use.
.
Baltimore is snowy today. Very pretty looking out at the armory, the Meyerhoff symphony center and the rest of the view. We wandered out today to do some light shopping--rite-aid, Lambda Rising and Eddie's grocery store--just as the snow was really starting to stick. It's building up now. Brian snapped some pictures of the view from the balcony--it's very grey out. He's going out later to snap a couple of more pictures of a very special car in the neighborhood.

the Meyerhoff Symphony Center


the Clocktower from across the street


the Armory


the Light Rail

Notes from a Scandal Junkie

I'll admit it--I spent most of yesterday glued to the telly watching the judicial shenanigans from Broward County and most of today, too. Honestly, I have no defense, just naked prurient curiosity. And frankly, now that it's over I feel like I need a shower and wished I'd done something more worthy, like picking out paint chips or plucking my eyebrows.

And Britney's back in rehab. Again. Good Christ.

It's not like there's a war where everyone else is dialling down and we have an administration that thinks ideological stubbornness and resolve are the same thing. A war co-managed, might I add, by a DoD that allows its soldiers to be housed in deplorable conditions in what is supposed to be a flagship hospital.

I know I run to this sort of mindless tabloid fodder just for a break from thinking about everything else...but I seriously wonder about the draw for others.

I picked up the Scissor Sisters' disc Ta Dah earlier this week and have been playing the hell out of it. It's not as satisfying as their eponymous first album (their Bee Gees cum Giorgio Moroder cover of "Comfortably Numb" a song that I (ordinarily) despise is worth the cost of the album alone) because of the sheer trashy joy that runs through so much of it ("Filthy/Gorgeous" and "Tits on the Radio" are sleazy smart fun.) On the current album I do enjoy figuring out what songs their pastichey songs are referencing and what they make me think of. I'm particularly fond of the current single "She's My Man," which manages to crib from Elton John's "All the Young Girls Love Alice," Bonnie Tyler's "Holdin' Out for a Hero," and Cher's "Black Lady," sometimes all in the same bar. It's fun, but not as much fun as the first.

Running around packing for tomorrow's trip to Baltimore has just made me cross-eyed. I hate packing and always, always, always, end up with more than I need. So I'm trying to be smart this time...no clue if it's gonna work or not. Plus I woke up with a hideous headache that is resisting all efforts to medicate it away, which has made concentrating on this nearly impossible. Nonetheless, I'm ready to go. I can't wait to see the big neon Domino Sugar sign from I-395.