Kind of funny that I get home from watching Iron Man with Pipes at the theater, and find this video article at CNN.com.

A Happy Mother's Day to all of you fine Mothers out there. Birth-Mothers; Adoptive Mothers; Single-Fathers who must also be Mothers; Godmothers; Grandmothers; Great Grandmothers; Aunts and Girlfriends who take that role.

I must express my gratitude and joy that I am able to have a fairly civil relationship with my exes, the birth-mothers of my two, very beautiful daughters. I thank them, even though they will never read this. Because we could reach an accord, collectively, I am able to be a true father to my girls, every week, and in every way.

I also need to recognize that, in the last fifteen months that Pipes and I have been together, she really stepped-up... she started out just dating me, and then her natural maternal talents quickly came to the fore, when around my daughters. She kept me from being outnumbered and overwhelmed at times. They respond to her teachings in ways which they respond to no one else. Not even their birth-mothers. Not even me. I love her.


Mothers sacrifice for us. They feed us. They tend to all of our needs, tirelessly and often thanklessly. I feel like I need to thank my Mother today.

My Mom is, among other things, an amateur stargazer, a reader of good books, an authority on antiques and quilting, a Liberated Woman AND a gourmet cook. She has acquired or created several secret recipes for dishes, which I know she could sell off to a restaurant somewhere. Ours was a home where meatloaf or mac 'n cheese seemed like they were a rare treat. And, we discussed science, politics and current events over the dinner-table. Mom taught me to open doors, to give flowers, and other, gentlemanly conduct.

Mom was the one who gave me my love of music. When I was a child, she played Iron Butterfly, she played Simon & Garfunkel, and then she played Mozart. She shared her love of the piano with me. (And now I feel guilty that I haven't developed my own musical talents better) Music is a part of my daily life, no matter where I go.

Sometimes my Mother would care for us kids, for weeks or months at a time, while my father was away on his most recent assignment. Sometimes, we weren't even allowed to know where Dad was, and this made things only harder on Mom. It made things harder on us kids, too. And maybe we acted a bit more immature during some of those times. It couldn't have been easy on Mom.

Mom kept her head, and cracked jokes, as we rode out earthquakes; avoided tornadoes in the tight confines of our basement, and dealt with other stressful situations. I get my quirky sense of humor from Mom, and it has enabled me to weather some pretty difficult circumstances with wry amusement.

I only learned when I was twenty-five that my own Mother can't stand the sight of blood. Every time she would deal with the most recent catastrophe -- and we had some spectacular incidents in my accident-prone family! -- Mom would wade into the fray, giving tender aid and comfort to us children, and then retreat off into a corner to shake when it was all over. Three years ago, when Sunshine cut her foot badly, and was bleeding all over the place? Mom was right there, by my side, helping as I removed the shards of glass and dressed my little girl's foot. I was so proud.

Mom also can't endure violence very well. The one time we watched Braveheart together, she covered her face with a pillow through every battle scene. I remember when I was thirteen, she ran out our front door and bellowed in her most powerful voice, to stop a fight I was in. I had squared-off against three larger kids. I was either going to punish them savagely, or I would go down fighting. Mom's barked orders managed to break it up, before one of us got a single punch off. The other boys retreated as quickly as they could, and my mother asked me what would possess me to place myself in that kind of situation. I told her, indignantly: they had cruelly called her a fat turd to my face. I wasn't about to let that pass. The entire spectrum of emotions crossed her face in the instants after that.

And in regards to battle: it has been stated that the vast majority of young men who die in war, do so with the name of "Mother" upon their lips. That says something. To me, it means that almost every man in the world is a Mama's boy.

Citing the fact that the Myanmar regime is, in active and stubborn negligence, allowing its citizens to starve, contract diseases and fall into lawlessness, Time magazine has come up with a radical proposal: ( It is time to invade Burma )

Why is it that in many American films, we use British accents for the most good and selfless of protagonists, or the most evil villains? This doesn't just apply to sci-fi and fantasy films, but to historical dramas, like 300. (Okay, they took some license with the historical account, but it is about Greek warriors! Why didn't they choose a Greek accent instead? Does this bother anyone with Greek heritage?)

Why is it that, in Japanese cartoons, their protagonists and antagonists -- and especially the women they are crazy about -- look like caricaturized Americans or Europeans? What is it about the Japanese psyche -- or that of their filmmakers -- which makes them think Japanese persons are unfit for these roles?

I've mused about these things for a long time. I don't get it. Any clues?

Yesterday marked the first day, this year, where it was truly hot. I switched my thermostat over from "Heat" to "Cool" and basked in the life-sustaining breeze flowing from the registers.


This morning, I awoke to 53 degrees of frigid glory. I hadn't switched back.


You've gotta love living in the desert, and the oddities of weather which it can produce.

This item was shamelessly stolen from mananath for viral re-posting to my friends-list.

( A herd of water buffalo blunders into a pride of lions, with predictable results (initially)... but then, a battle ensues over the baby calf they have taken. What an amazing video! )

___

In other news, I give you 41 Amusing Science Experiments for your perusal. At least, they are encouraging the childrens' creativity?

For our weekly date, tonight Pipes and I went to the Tandoor Indian Grill, and then took a long walk 'n talk around the neighborhood, as the sky took on the deepening ochres of nightfall.

We started out with Onion Kulcha (#82) bread, which came with a mint-sauce and a tamarind chutney. We ended up getting two more loafs of this delicious flatbread. Pipes got the Shrimp Saag (#60), and I chose the Lamb Madras Masala (#53), both of which were exquisite, over rice with peas. We also had chai, a sort of milk and spiced tea. And for dessert, I ordered Kheer (#72), a sort of rice-pudding.

The service was excellent. The portions weren't huge, but enough to fill our bellies, and the prices were very, very reasonable. We'll definitely be returning.

My part-Japanese family eats a lot of rice. And when I say a lot, I mean that we tend to buy 20lb bags (the size of a small child) on a frequent basis. Lately, we've been relating that we haven't been able to find rice as easily in many supermarkets. And when we have, its price has as much as doubled, at some stores.

I find myself feeling slightly unnerved by the idea that this could relate to the international food shortages, which have been sparking riots across the globe.

When stuff like that comes home, to us here in the USA, it is disturbing. We tend to think of ourselves as safe. Protected from the depredations we see on television. Even relatively low-income Americans can still do better than a lot of people in other parts of the world. There was recently an article in the Wall Street Journal, which warned people to stock up on food, in order to ride a price-hike which will be coming for many foodstuffs, as a result of the coming shortages. I suppose this is one of the hazards of being part of a global economy?

Assertion (I): If the SuperDelegates end up choosing Hillary over Obama, then many Democrats -- Blacks, especially -- will howl in anger at a circumstance where the popular vote didn't decide the day (again!), and may become extremely pissed-off. Blacks will cite racism, after a black man was in the lead, and STILL got put behind a white woman. "Go to the back of the bus," all over again. You know it.


Assertion (II): And yet, it is being argued, with statistical analyses and other means, that Obama cannot beat McCain. Therefore, the closer Clinton follows Obama, before the Convention, the less reason for Obamacrats to call for Hillary's head. (And Dean's head, since he's running this circus) Right?


Assertion (III): And so, I am beginning to wonder if some members of the Democratic party may even begin to see it in the best interests of the Party to clandestinely "help" Hillary and hinder Obama. Because I believe: in the end, some of them are more interested in winning against the Republicans than in pleasing everyone.

---

Additional Questions (IV): Just how pissed-off could they become? Enough to cross-over and vote McCain? Enough to radically change the internal politics of the Democratic Party? (The most major change since the New Democrats took over in the 1960s?) Enough that some Blacks might leave the Democratic Party permanently? And, could Hillary winning the Presidency only extend the duration of resultant bitterness? (Or, putting it differently, would a win for McCain better allow the Democrats to regain their cohesion against a common enemy?)

---

Discuss.

John Glenn is one of my heroes. Not because he was one of our most famous astronauts. Rather because, when the time came, he was willing to put it all on the line for the woman he loved.

The movie, "The Right Stuff", relates the little-known (and almost apocryphal) story where Vice-President Lyndon Baines Johnson (LBJ) was determined to get a photo-op with Glenn's wife, Annie, for Glenn's launch atop the thus-far unreliable Atlas rocket. The Vice President has traditionally been the official Director of the Space Program, down through history.

Because she had a severe speech-impediment, Annie Glenn didn't want strangers -- even the Vice-President -- to come into her home without John there. Even if it was a natural consequence of being an Astronaut's wife, back in the 50s, to be a national celebrity.

Before long, Glenn's launch is scrubbed for technical reasons, and LBJ sees a golden opportunity to be filmed "consoling" the wife of Astronaut John Glenn. Again, Annie refuses. We see LBJ throwing a fit in his limo, outside the Glenn home, and before long, the Administrator, James Webb, pulls John aside: there's a problem with his wife. Alarmed, John rushes to the phone, and begins asking Annie what's wrong. Annie barely manages to describe the situation, since she is already stressed to the max.

John backs her up. He tells her that, if she doesn't want anyone in their house, then no one is coming in. She can tell the men at the door that John Glenn the Astronaut says so. Webb becomes incensed, threatens to pull Glenn from the launch, and find someone else. The other six Mercury Astronauts rally around John, and pointedly ask the Program Director just who he's going to get to fly that mission. After that, he backed down.

This story underlines the fierce loyalty which John felt for his sweet wife, and the loyalty which the Mercury Astronauts had for each other. I've never heard the story discounted, and it seems in keeping with John's character as a man of conscience, conviction and courage.

I found this highly amusing.

(It appears to be by Democrats, by the way)

Y'know the kind of guy who, when Christmas, an important Anniversary or even a birthday comes around, buy power-tools for their wife or girlfriend? And then ask, "Gee Hon... can I borrow that?"


Yeah. Pipes is like that with clothes.

We celebrated Sunshine's 5th birthday on Sunday, with Pipes' family. They have a family dinner every Sunday night, but we only make it out there about once every month or two, owing to our work schedules. We made a special effort this last Sunday, because Pipes' Mom offered to bake a cake for Sunshine.

Pipes' Mom is an old nurse... that curious combination of gruff, no-nonsense and secret, almost hidden caring. But it's amazing how it started affecting her when Sunshine and Shade started spontaneously calling her "Grandma".

Instead of just being dinner and a cake, it turns out that all of Pipes' siblings brought a little something for Sunshine. Nothing real expensive, mind you -- maybe something from the dollar store -- but it's the thought that counts, isn't it? Sunshine, Shade and I had a lot of fun, playing with a new bubble-wand a couple of days ago. The giggle of children, truly enjoying themselves. I'll never get over how wonderful it is.


Pipes and I have been talking about Marriage for a little while now. It seems certain that this is where we're headed. And equally certain, that I would end up marrying into a very good, very loving family.

So I went to the Fashion Place mall with Pipes last night. We had gone looking for a new vehicle to replace her '88 Oldsmobile POS, we had gone to the Jumbo Buffet, gorging ourselves on Chinese, Japanese and generally Asian food, and we needed someplace to walk it off.

By the way, is it me, or are kiosk salespersons getting much more aggressive these days? I'm going to have to wear a suit of body-armor, a taser and some jogging shoes next time I go to the mall. It could very well be the fact that I only see the inside of a mall about once every three to six months at this stage in my life, but it really annoys me when people are so insistent, and ignorant (or lying) while trying to "help me" spend my money.

So we stopped by Victoria's Secret as part of our circuit around the shops. Naturally, I affected the slightly disinterested persona that most "taken" (read: owned) males (and two or three of us were present) do, when confronted with so much -- or rather, so little -- clothing of this sort. And while Pipes was browsing through their various wares, a saleswoman came up to us and showed us one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life: a memory-foam bra.

Okay, it wasn't that amazing. But still.

You know what memory foam is, right? I have a memory-foam topper on my bed's mattress, which turns it from a boat, to a fairly plush and conforming boat. It shapes itself to the contours of your body, fairly quickly, enveloping you in a way that water beds never were able to do. (And better, it was invented by NASA, so it's at least as cool as Tang)

Have you any idea of the odd possibilities which this kind of a product offers? C'mon guys... I know you're wondering.

I say all of this, pretty much tongue-in-cheek.... but you know what using memory foam in a wide range of non-bedding applications could mean. We might never be bored again! I mean toys, mostly. And I'm sorry to offend any of the soberly-serious individuals who feel there might be a valid use for memory foam in undergarments -- why not? we've tried everything else in the last few decades -- and that it's inappropriate to even mention such a thing. But you know exactly what sort of thinking such a thing is going to inspire. Kleenex is on its way out. You know that men's undergarments can't be far away.

The last few days have seen a remarkably huge explosion of discussion, debate, demonification, and even potential threats of physical violence. People on my friends list, and on my friends-of-friends list, are posting about it everywhere. People outside of LiveJournal are taking up the matter as well.

No, I'm not talking about the Presidential election. I'm talking about "Boobiegate."

If you don't know what it is, then you may not be missing much. Okay, well, you're missing a lot, but it's not something which should keep you up at night. Most of the material flying back and forth on this issue is bile.

To summarize things, theferrett and friends go to a couple of Cons. (Conventions) One of them has the idea that the normal social boundaries and taboos against the touching of others -- especially their breasts or their butts -- ought not to be quite so thick. So this circle of friends (male and female) gropes one of the females in the group. Hey, they think, this is great. Let's grope some other people. Thusly, the Open Source Boob Project (OSBP) is born.

Amazingly, a lot more people participate in this than one might expect. It didn't envelop and overshadow either of the Cons, but it apparently involved up to 5% of the attending fans. theferrett argues that everything was done on a purely consensual basis... but then proceeds to undermine his position by arguing, further down in the comments, that those who refuse this sort of contact are basically prudes. Or worse, emotionally, mentally and/or sexually unhealthy. In doing so, he pretty much comes off as a spoiled, jealous (that he can't grope YOUR body) sort of immature individual. That very argument seems, to me, to undermine the concepts of consent, and especially mutual respect.

That said, I believe every individual is responsible for him- or herself. Every individual has the capability to consent, or not. (With a few notable exceptions I won't mention here) And so, I take issue with some of the feminists who argue he is magically abusing every woman on the planet. I think the women who participate in any activity at all, (and especially the OSBP) would take issue with other women acting as if they don't have enough gray matter in their own heads to make a decision -- even a bad one -- for themselves. The more we second-guess people, and attempt to override what we perceive as bad judgment, the more we stand on a slippery slope that would put us all at the mercy of a totalitarian but supposedly benevolent society.

I have also seem some useful debate occurring on the topics of personal responsibility, the sovereign (and sacred?) nature of one's body, consent, social norms, and sexuality in general. But in no means does this validate the much greater portion of hate being tossed back and forth by various persons. And by no means does this exonerate theferrett for his participation in creating this e-riot.

I think that much of what can usefully be derived from this morass, like filtering clean, drinkable water from a sludge-choked sewer, has already been derived. Maybe it is just time to move on. And maybe, to talk about these issues in a productive manner, without needing to look back, needing to cast aspersions and insults, and without condemning anyone on the basis of their sex. (Or race, creed, etc.)

Can't we all just get aloooong?

I'm getting sick. Getting that asthmatic, high-pitched wheeze-cough. The kind where you can't have just one. It turns into a string that threatens to make you drop a lung under less than optimal social circumstances.



In other news, Pipes informed me that I have a half-dozen mutant hairs on my back. I swear I never had these before. Someone would have told me. And it really means something, when the mutant hair is an hundred times longer than the hair on your FLIPPING HEAD!!!

She has generously volunteered to pluck them for me. She's showing them to me as I type this right now. And I'm trying not to have a full-body shiver/dry-heave every time she shows me one.

Is this a part of the aging process? If so, I've decided it's pretty much over after thirty.

Oh my... Someone is cloning the Mac again. Imagine getting an Apple ProMac clone for only $400-500.

That is, until Apple Legal gets spooled up. This ought to be interesting.

Nuke it from orbit. It's the only way to be sure. (Aliens)

Game over, man, GAME OVER! (Aliens again)

"I find your lack of faith [or mad-lib this to anything else... like pants] disturbing." (Star Wars)

We're gonna need a bigger boat. (Jaws)

Every now and then, when talking to people, or discussing stuff on the Internet, and someone just pops one of these out. Important lines from iconic movies, which just stick with you. And some movies were just made for quoting. Like Forrest Gump.

For instance, one day, when I was working an Alzheimer's unit with another nurse, all hell broke loose. It was a bad day. She turned to me and said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat." Instead, we were laughing all day long, and the shift passed much more easily, even though we had to put our shoulders to the wheel extra hard on that day.

I love when stuff like this happens. ;-)

Someone shared this with me today, from PoliticallyPurple.com:

The FEC reports came out last night/this morning, and it is not good for Hillary. At the end of the first quarter 2008, Obama had 41 Million dollars in cash on hand for the Primary, while Hillary was actually in debt at the same time. Apparently, she had 9 million in cash, but was carrying 10.3 million in debts.

I suppose that, "It's about the economy, Stupid!" won't work this time around for the Clintons?