Yahoo! masters of unethical marketing, have, due to ‘changes with their system’, reset your preferences so that you will receive every bit of marketing they send out. Go into every Yahoo! account you own, click ‘account info’ and set them all back to no.

This should be illegal. We need laws that will go further than that. We should have control over our own information, and corporations should be required to wipe their databases everytime they change their terms of agreement, or honor the terms of the older agreements. I’m tired of corporations taking my personal information with promises that they will never sell it and then unilaterally changing their minds. For that matter, all marketing materials should be opt-in in the first place. bah!

Had nicer dreams last night, through restless sleep. I vaguely recall convincing my sweetie to go with me into a mini-submarine to visit an undewater city (sort of like sealab…) We had a room with a thick plexiglass wall that allowed us to see all the aquatic life, off the side of a reef. We were talking goofily to each other in mock french accents (Jaques Coustau-style, no doubt), about *everything*. in the room. “Behold, zee mayjezteek bafrhoom towellz-ah. Zheee how zhey arrrrrre zho fluffeh and Zhoft… Haw-haw-haw! (Maurice Chevalier laughter was our puntuation.)

That’s my baby is miniature horses… but the star of the show is an adorable little monkey of a girl named Cheyenne… about four or five years old, and so cute. something about a little girl and a pony. Simply adorable.

Another filly on the horsecam! I want the Ellie cam to come back! Some consolation is the panda cam, black rhino cam and the polar bear cam.

top keywords to get to my web pages yesterday (mostly gallery, but a few blog hits) the one in italics gets me.

3 Google her melons 18.75%
2 Google wench 12.50%
1 Yahoo monitor glasses 6.25%
1 Google 10 ways to sneak fabric into your house 6.25%
1 Google high-tech-fashion 2002 6.25%
1 Yahoo 84 diner 6.25%
1 Yahoo her melons 6.25%
1 Yahoo text to image vb 6.25%
1 Google scottobear s journal 6.25%
1 Yahoo her melons 6.25%
1 Google hanuman s baby 6.25%
1 Yahoo dictonary progress 6.25%
1 Google newtcam 6.25%

quick quiz before bed (I want to figure averages, and report findings later)

Thanks for helping! Nighty night!

I am leaving soon and you’ll forgive me if I speak bluntly. The universe grows smaller every day and the threat of aggression by any group anywhere can no longer be tolerated. There must be security for all or no one is secure. Now this does not mean giving up any freedom, except the freedom to act irresponsibly. Your ancestors knew this when they made laws to govern themselves and hired policemen to enforce them. We, of the other planets, have long accepted this principle. We have an organization for the mutual protection of all planets and for the complete elimination of aggression. The test of any such higher authority is, of course, the police force that supports it. For our policemen we created a race of robots. Their function is to patrol the planets in spaceships like this one and preserve the peace. In matters of aggression we have given them absolute power over us. This power cannot be revoked. At the first signs of violence they act automatically against the aggressor. The penalty for provoking their action is too terrible to risk. The result is we live in peace without arms or armies, secure in the knowledge that we are free from aggression and war, free to pursue more profitable enterprises. Now, we do not pretend to have achieved perfection, but we do have a system, and it works. I came here to give you these facts. It is no concern of ours how you run your own planet, but if you threaten to extend your violence, this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. Your choice is simple: join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer. The decision rests with you.

I am leaving soon and you’ll forgive me if I speak bluntly. The universe grows smaller every day and the threat of aggression by any group anywhere can no longer be tolerated. There must be security for all or no one is secure. Now this does not mean giving up any freedom, except the freedom to act irresponsibly. Your ancestors knew this when they made laws to govern themselves and hired policemen to enforce them. We, of the other planets, have long accepted this principle. We have an organization for the mutual protection of all planets and for the complete elimination of aggression. The test of any such higher authority is, of course, the police force that supports it. For our policemen we created a race of robots. Their function is to patrol the planets in spaceships like this one and preserve the peace. In matters of aggression we have given them absolute power over us. This power cannot be revoked. At the first signs of violence they act automatically against the aggressor. The penalty for provoking their action is too terrible to risk. The result is we live in peace without arms or armies, secure in the knowledge that we are free from aggression and war, free to pursue more profitable enterprises. Now, we do not pretend to have achieved perfection, but we do have a system, and it works. I came here to give you these facts. It is no concern of ours how you run your own planet, but if you threaten to extend your violence, this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. Your choice is simple: join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer. The decision rests with you.

Went home early today, feeling poorly, and little work was to be done.

rglad gave me a spiffy linkie for child safety here Those I really dig. The safety lock is sort of creepy though. I know that as a kid, if I had a bracelet put on me that I couldn’t remove… it’d get removed. (If I was over the age of 4 or so, anyhow.)

Retro recipes. I especially like the Creepy Cakes.

This guy made a huge bear statue out of ketchup packets, thinking it’d look like it was bleeding when he shot it. It didn’t quite work out. I guess the science of constructing ketchup-packet bears still has a ways to go.

Some animal words. In no particular order.

• Ursine: Bear-like.
• Vespertilian: Bat-like.
• Pongid: Like a gorilla.
• Murine: Rat-like.
• Discophoran: Like a jellyfish.
• Blattid: Roach-like.
• Aedine: Mosquito-like.
• Vespine: Wasp-like.

la-di-da… Danny’ll be here in a few to meet for breakfast. Sadly, I suspect that there won’t be time to get to the hobby store. I get to tell him today that I heard from Cathy Wu…*shudder*. There’ll be no shortage of conversation today.

I’m in a much better mood today… yesterday I had a real funk on.

It’s sort of funny… I’m seeing the bunny-link I posted a few days ago pop up all over the list of people I read. Meme propagation is neat to watch… like little mushrooms after a rainstorm. fifth and sixth

Minority Report looks cool, but it’s got Tom Cruise… I’m very tired of him.

there’s dan! I’m off!

Poem Tag project up to 68… a major update after 4/2. I’m going to have to boogie to catch up my gallery, maybe on Sunday, while my sweetie is entertaining her family.

Yet another Reason I love living in Florida. The Dali Museum. … check out the store. neat stuff!

Here, make an Easter bonnet entirely out of marshmallow peeps. Just stay away from places favored by birds and ants should you venture to wear it.

TV Land’s Retromercials provide somewhat bizarre but not entirely unpleasant 70s flashbacks, with video clips of a bubble-eyed, wooden clog-wearing Swiss Miss puppet telling us that we’d better not “add milk” to the cocoa powder, and of Mother Nature sticking her nose into a keg of Chiffon margarine, swooning over it, then screeching, “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature!” Possibly sending the narrator guy to certain metaphysical or just plain physical doom.

“To test the lab-grown meat’s appeal, his team showed it to colleagues to analyze for color and fried the meat to assess its aroma. Benjaminson said most considered the fish meat appetizing, although no one actually tasted it since he hasn’t won approval from the Food and Drug Administration.”

If no one had the courage to actually taste this meat (which was, incidentally, concocted from the hopelessly funky combination of fetal bovine serum and goldfish meat), how did they come to the conclusion that it was “appetizing”? From smelling it as it was being fried up? I’m picturing all these wacky scientists standing around wearing “Kiss the Cook” aprons and big chef hats, frying this fake meat on a barbecue grill as they all exclaim, “Yep! Smells like chicken!”

PopCult’s website of the week is Secret Fun Spot. Great place to rediscover childhood junk you forgot you once had (like this, something I coveted for about five minutes in 1980) and enjoy the work of Marvin Glass, Michelangelo of plastic toys.

And now, I go to sleep.. but first, my views on todays dead celebs. nigh night, dear Journal. I look forward to happy dreams.

Milton Berle was one of the true innovators of television, even if it’s mostly crossdressing and pie in the face humor. Thanks for getting it started. Good journeys.

Why I won’t miss Dudley Moore. That’s all I have to say about that.

Yikes! I have breakfast with Dan tomorrow!

I should call and find out what time he’s coming over…maybe ask him to remind me to get some ellie-wood and to bring my ref manual into work tomorrow. I just know I’m going to forget. I know which army man Danny’d be….

two words I used in conversation today… screwball and screwy. (one in reference to the other, really… “What’s that screwball doing in the office? I thought he was in Tampa!” “Uh, what?” “Screwball… Ol’ Small hands is screwy in the head, y’know?”

puts me into the mind of old philip marlowe…

“it was only a gambler’s marker, a promise to pay worth a thousand bucks, and I was hired to find it which sounded easy, until I realized that it meant the whole future to two men, freedom to a third and death to the girl in the cottage.”

I’ve been wondering…Has anyone done the “Which cheap plastic army man are you” test yet? belly crawler, radio guy, minesweeper, guy running with gun overhead, bazooka man, binoculars guy, machine gun on a bipod guy, mortar guy, rally the troops guy, rifle as a club guy, or medic…. I think I could work one out if it’s not already been done. What fun! I suspect I’d be the “hit guy“… I’ve never had one, but it looks right.

What colors… green, dark green, tan, grey…were there blue ones? I know cowboys and indians were all primaries, like yellow and red and blue…and the space guys were black and white.

Curses! CNN has caught wind of my evil plan!

two words I used in conversation today… screwball and screwy. (one in reference to the other, really… “What’s that screwball doing in the office? I thought he was in Tampa!” “Uh, what?” “Screwball… Ol’ Small hands is screwy in the head, y’know?”

puts me into the mind of old philip marlowe…

“it was only a gambler’s marker, a promise to pay worth a thousand bucks, and I was hired to find it which sounded easy, until I realized that it meant the whole future to two men, freedom to a third and death to the girl in the cottage.”

I’ve been wondering…Has anyone done the “Which cheap plastic army man are you” test yet? belly crawler, radio guy, minesweeper, guy running with gun overhead, bazooka man, binoculars guy, machine gun on a bipod guy, mortar guy, rally the troops guy, rifle as a club guy, or medic…. I think I could work one out if it’s not already been done. What fun! I suspect I’d be the “hit guy“… I’ve never had one, but it looks right.

What colors… green, dark green, tan, grey…were there blue ones? I know cowboys and indians were all primaries, like yellow and red and blue…and the space guys were black and white.

Curses! CNN has caught wind of my evil plan!

It’s the day before the full moon, and I’m feeling a little off. I’m tired and groggy… can’t seem to shake off the funk I’m in. I’ve been at work for an hour, had a tall, cold tea from the “roach coach”, but still feel like only 5 of my 8 cylinders are firing. Minor soreness in the base of my back, but my main complaint is a head full of cotton. What I need to do is re-channel my energy (if I can find where I put it), and get the ball rolling. Once I have some momentum, the rest of the missing pieces will fall into place. I think.

Irrational thoughts are filling my mind, and I don’t like them there. Non-sequitors and unhelpful nonsense are taking up space where more useful information should be. My mind is a cluttered mess at the moment, when usually everything might be a little scattered, at least I can find what it is I’m looking for.

I’m fortunate to have a few solid anchors to focus on… Newton this morning, nuzzling close, fur like a rabbit’s, nose rubbing against my neck and purring loudly in my ear. Thoughts of my sweetheart’s echoing words of love and play, logic and lust, images of us curled up together on the couch, watching TV or just listening to her laughter.

There’s a strong link to sleep there. Many pleasant pictures of cuddling in bed, only a hint of soft light in the room while spooning… her asleep and me in the pleasant halfway twilight between this world and the land beyond, comforted by her and Newt’s breathing being the only sounds, synchronizing with my own. I suspect that when I do get to sleep tonight, it’ll be a solid, sound, deep one.

On a semi-related tack –

I’m vaguely aware of Newt’s location as I sleep. I can feel him move from my neck to against the calf of my leg, opposite… then to inside the “nest” that forms, should I lay back Indian-style, with a square opening, with opposite angles starting at my knees. If he wants to play, generally he’ll give my face or neck a little “tap-tap” with his swabby-front feet… and if it’s light out, I’ll oblige him. I can’t recall the last time he did it when it was still dark out, but I think it was because he was chilly… as I rustled to reply to him then, he just scampered under the covers with me, and purred, laying close. Sometimes he only sleeps nearby, but usually he’s in some sort of contact with me, even if it’s just an edge of tail touching my ankle. (I’m the same way… when sharing the bed, I like to touch, too.)

I’m officially adding Rudy McRudeRudyson to “Small Hands” nickname list. The stinker interrupted an important call of Dale’s just to use Dale’s phone to call someone in the parking lot. (Rudy McRude Has a cell-phone, and a regular phone in his office, about 15-20 steps away… or he could’ve used my phone which wasn’t in use at the time.)

Cursed work ethic. I’m shower-fresh, but just want to go back to bed. No, siree, mr journal. As soon as my shirt is on, I’m calling a cab.

Forgot to mention met the new tenant in the old hippies’ apartment… an obese black guy, bald with shoulders that join, neckless into a lump of a head. Seems like a nice fellow, though. He has an easy smile, and is willing to talk to neighbors just coming home from work.

Newt knows when I get ready to leave… once I put keys and money in my pockets, he heads for the fron door, and sits tight there, and plays with my shoes there, waiting for me to have to take them, and watch him hop into the front window to watch me head to work. I want to work from home today, but it’s not an option.