Saturday, June 21, 2008

A Few X Short of Y

Gathered over the years, some are my own. If you have some not shown here, please share them.

$HOME =/dev/null.
3K RAM free, no EMS.
A .22 caliber intellect in a .357 Magnum world.
A 10K brain attached to a 9600 baud mouth.
A 20th century man... The guy has no future.
A 3.5-inch drive, but data on punch cards.

A black-and-white mind working on a color-coded problem.
A brain like a BB in a boxcar.
A couple chips short of a motherboard.
A couple members short of a threesome.

A couple of slates short of a full roof.

A couplet short of a sonnet.

A day late and a dollar short.

A deadbolt with a broken cylinder.

A doughnut short of being a cop.

A few animals short of an ark.

A few bales short of a haystack.

A few beads short in her rosary.

A few beers short of a six-pack/a six-pack short of a case.

A few birds shy of a flock.

A few bombs/melons short of a full load.

A few bricks short of a wall/hod/load.

A few buns short of a baker's dozen.

A few cards short of a full deck.

A few cells short of a brain.

A few clowns short of a circus.

A few clues shy of a solution.

A few croutons short of a chef's salad.

A few ears short of a bushel.
A few factors short of a prime number.
A few feathers short of a whole duck.
A few fish short of a string.
A few gallons short of a full tank.
A few guppies short of an aquarium.
A few inches short of a foot/yard.
A few kernels short of an ear.
A few kopeks short of a ruble.
A few links shy of a chain.
A few neurons short of a brain cell.
A few open splices.
A few peas short of a pod/casserole.
A few pickles short of a jar.
A few pies short of a holiday.
A few planes short of an Air Force/hangar.
A few points short of a polygon.
A few rag-heads short of a small-arms militia group.
A few revisions behind.
A few sandwiches/apples/ants short of a picnic.
A few screws loose.
A few spoons short of a full set.
A few straws shy of a bale.
A few tiles missing from his space shuttle.
A few tiles short of a successful re-entry.
A few too many lights out in his Christmas tree.
A few volts below threshold.
A few yards short of the hole.
A flash of light, a cloud of dust, and... What was the question?
A flower short of an arrangement.
A flying buttress short of a cathedral.
A goose short of a gaggle.
A hamburger/a few french fries short of a Happy Meal.
A handle short of a suitcase.
A hop, skip, and jump from success, but to get there he'd have to give up chewing gum.
A Ken Ham short of honest/intelligent/decent.
A kangaroo loose in her top paddock.
A lap behind the field.
A little light in his loafers.
A looney tune.
A medical mystery.
A mental midget with the IQ of a fencepost.
A mind like wet tennis shoes... Makes squishy noises when running.
A modest little person, with much to be modest about.
A natural talent for finding subliminal messages in ice cubes.
A Neanderthal brain in a Cro-Magnon body.
A notch off the timing mark.
A one-bit brain with a parity error.
A pacifist out of necessity in a battle of wits.
A pane short of a window.
A photographic memory, but the lens cover is glued on.
A prime candidate for natural deselection.
A quart low.
A return with no gosub.
A room temperature IQ.
A semitone flat on the high notes.
A signature short of a book.
A sleeve/button short of a shirt.
A span short of a bridge.
A square with only three sides.
A strawberry short of a quart.
A teabag short of a pot.
A teapot with a cracked lid.
A titanic intellect... In a world full of icebergs.
A tower short of a castle.
A vacuum-tube brain in a microchip world.
A VGA card and a Herc monitor.
A victim of retroactive birth control.
A violin minus the bow.
A walking argument for birth control.
A wind-up clock without a key.
Afraid she'll void her warranty if she thinks too much.
Aliens zapped him with stupidity ray - ­twice.
All booster, no payload.
All crown, no filling.
All foam, no beer.
All hammer, no nail.
All hat and no cattle.
All he remembers about his middle name is the first letter.
All his eggs in the same basket.
All his learning curves look like Mount Everest.
All lime and salt, no tequila.
All missile, no warhead.
All shot, no powder.
All the lights don't shine in her marquee.
All the personality of linoleum flooring/plasticene/putty/caulking/saran wrap.
All the sex appeal of a wet paper bag.
All wax and no wick.
Alphabetizes junk mail/T-shirts.
Always in the right place, but at the wrong time.
Always loses battles of wits because he's unarmed.
Always needs to have jokes explained.
Always sharpening his sleeping skills.
An 8080 in a 68000 environment.
An alligator (all mouth, no ears).
An Apple//e on UUCP.
An aviation-grade engine running on 87 octane gas.
An early example of the Peter Principle.
An ego like a black hole.
An experiment in Artificial Stupidity.
An expert on the historical significance of cottage cheese.
An inch short and a stroke early.
An intellect rivaled only by garden tools.
An XT clone in a Pentium zone.
Ano-fossal ambiguity (can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground).
Answers the door when the phone rings.
Any slower and he'd be in reverse.
As a baby his parents stood him on his soft spot.
As bright as a nightlight/small appliance bulb/tulip bulb.
As focused as a fart.
As happy as if he had brains.
As happy as the village idiot.
As quick as a corpse.
As sharp as a marble/bowling ball/beachball/pin head/wet sponge/bowl of Jello/mashed potato sandwich, and twice as smart.
As sharp as a sack full of wet mice.
As smart as a politician/lawyer is honest.
As smart as an automatic email responder script.
As smart as bait.
As smart as Christie Brinkley is ugly.
As thick as champ. (Irish; champ is mostly mashed spuds and cabbage.)
As thick as two short planks.
As worn out as a cucumber in a convent.
Attic's a little dusty.
Back burners not fully operating.
Bad spot on the disk.
Baler done run out of twine.
Barney's his hero.
Bats have flown the belfry, and now he's all alone.
Bats in the belfry.
Batteries not included.
Been napping in front of the ion shield again.
Been playing with his wand too much.
Been playing with the pharmacy section again.
Been short on oxygen one time too many.
Been using her head as a mass driver.
Better at sex than anyone; now all he needs is a partner.
Blew his O-rings.
Blew the hatch before the lock sealed.
Blocked one too many hockey pucks/soccer balls/punches with his head.
Blown/leaking head gasket.
Body by Fisher, ­brains by Mattel.
Born a day late and like that ever since.
Born during low tide in the gene pool/swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool.
Born ugly and built to last.
Both oars in the water, but on the same side of the boat.
Brain like a hard drive with no read/write head.
Brain permanently in power saving mode.
Brain transplant donor.
Bright as a Zippo lighter without a flint.
Bright as Alaska in December.
Bright as an acetylene torch ­without an oxygen supply.
Brings binoculars to submarine races.
Broadcasts static.
Bubbles in her think tank.
Built a special showcase for his herd of pet rocks.
Caboose seems to be pulling the engine.
Cackles a lot, but I ain't seen no eggs yet.
Calling her stupid would be an insult to stupid people.
Calling him a pea brain would be an undeserved compliment.
Can be outwitted by a jar of Marshmallow Fluff.
Can discern facts and form predictions with the acumen of an economist.
Can easily be confused with facts.
Can only remember her old passwords.
Can only shoot pool with a left-handed cue stick.
Can't count his balls and get the same answer twice.
Can't distinguish jacking off and strapping a razor.
Can't find his ass with two hands and a periscope/compass/flashlight/bloodhound/GPS receiver (in a locked closet).
Can't find log base two of 65536 without a calculator.
Car's only got three wheels, and one's going flat.
Carrier wave unmodulated.
Carries a tire gauge in her purse.
Cart can't hold all the groceries.
Cauliflower for brains.
Changes hands and picks up a stroke.
Charming as a carbuncle.
Cheats when filling out opinion polls.
Cheezwiz for brains.
Chimney's clogged.
Circuit cards are not seated.
Clock doesn't have all its numbers.
Clock doesn't wind.
Clock is ticking, but the hands aren't moving.
Colder than a well-digger's ass in the Klondike.
Collects cards for Craig.
Consumes hard drugs as vitamins.
Contributes to the population problem.
Could be considered a plant if he developed photrophic motility.
Could only be loved/missed if the minister read someone else's eulogy.
Couldn't balance a checkbook if Einstein helped.
Couldn't count to 21 if he were barefoot and without pants.
Couldn't find his way through a maze even if the rats helped him.
Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if he were standing inside.
Couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery. (Common in Australia.)
Couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.
Couldn't think/pee his way out of a paper bag.
Couldn't write dialog for a porno flick.
CPU not connected to the bus.
Cranial cavity filled with neutronic matter. (Really dense.)
Cranio-rectally inverted.
Cunning as a dodo bird.
Cursor's flashing but there's no response.
Dealing with him is less fun than going to the dentist.
Dealing with him is one angst worse than a blind date.
Deep as her dimples/reflection in a mirror.
Defective hard drive/boot sector.
Dense as a London fog.
Diarrhea of the mouth; constipation of the ideas.
Differently clued.
Dock doesn't quite reach the water.
Does aerobics... in his head.
Does everything the hard way, like making love standing up in a hammock.
Doesn't adjust for leap years.
Doesn't consider his drive a slice unless it lands two fairways over.
Doesn't have a fart's prayer in a hurricane.
Doesn't have a round in every chamber.
Doesn't have all his corn flakes in one box.
Doesn't have all his dogs on one leash.
Doesn't have all his cups in the cupboard.
Doesn't have all his groceries in the same bag.
Doesn't have all the dots on his dice.
Doesn't have all the pens in her plotter.
Doesn't have both oars in the water­ -can't even find the damn boat.
Doesn't have elastic in both of his socks.
Doesn't have his belt through all the loops.
Doesn't have the sense God gave an animal cracker.
Doesn't have two neurons to rub together.
Doesn't just know nothing; doesn't even suspect much.
Doesn't know much, but leads the league in nostril hair.
Doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his balls.
Doesn't know which side the toast is buttered on.
Doesn't put the cross-hairs on the target.
Doesn't quite sample at the Nyquist rate.
Doesn't suffer from ear pressure when flying at altitude.
Donated her body to scientists... Before she was done using it.
Downhill skiing in Iowa.
Driveway doesn't quite reach the garage.
Driving at night with the lights off.
Driving with two wheels in the sand.
Dropped his second stage too soon.
Dumb as asphalt/dirt/a stump/a sack of hammers.
Dumber than a chicken/box of hair/rocks.
During evolution his ancestors were in the control group.
Easier to count the bricks left than the bricks missing.
Echoes between the ears.
Eight pawns short of a gambit.
Elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor/penthouse.
Elevator goes all the way to the top but the door doesn't open.
Elevator is on the ground floor and he's pushing the Down button.
End of season sale at the cerebral department.
Engine is idling, but there's no one at the wheel.
Enjoys listening to telemarketers.
Enough sawdust between the ears to bed an elephant.
Evidence for the theory of a missing link.
Failed the Turing test.
Fighting the war with a starter pistol/water pistol/pop gun/cap gun.
Finds a flat by swapping tires.
Finds canonical humor collections amusing.
Finds Sesame Street/knock-knock jokes challenging.
Fired from McDonald's for having a short attention span.
Fired her retro-rockets a little late.
Flying/landing on one engine.
Focused like a 12 gauge shotgun.
Fog rolled in the day he was born, and a bit of it never rolled out.
Folds ace plus red jack hand when playing blackjack.
Forgot to pay his brain bill.
Found his marbles, but is playing jacks with them.
Four bits shy of a full DEC.
Four cents short of a nickel.
Full throttle, dry tank.
Gasoline engine, diesel fuel.
Gates are down, the lights are flashing, but the train isn't coming.
Gavel doesn't quite hit the bench.
Gears grind/don't always mesh.
Gets a charge out of pissing on electric fences.
Gets her mail at an unknown zip code.
Gets his orders from another planet.
Gets hypnotized on the despun section.
Gives a lot of bull for somebody what ain't got no cattle.
Goalie for the dart team.
God might still use him for miracle practice.
God's favorite target for lightning strikes.
Goes with the flow... He's a bed wetter.
Good at quantum tunneling but not much else.
Got a life, but wasn't sure what to do with it.
Got his brains as a stocking stuffer.
Got into the gene pool while the lifeguard wasn't watching.
Guillotining him would make only an aesthetic difference.
Gyros are loose.
Gyros are off true/tumbled.
Habits explainable if he was raised by wolves.
Had a head crash.
Half a bubble off plumb.
Hard to distinguish from the tail end of a horse.
Hard to tell if he has an ace up his sleeve or if the ace is missing from his deck altogether.
Has a few wait states.
Has a full six-pack but lacks the plastic thing to hold them together.
Has a leak in his ceiling.
Has a one-way ticket on the Disoriented Express.
Has a pulse, but that's about all.
Has a slow clock.
Has all her bricks, but no cement holding them together.
Has all the brains God gave a duck's ass.
Has an IQ of 2, but it takes 3 to grunt/one lower than it takes to grunt.
Has change for a seven dollar bill.
Has his brain on cruise control again.
Has his solar panels aimed at the moon.
Has it floored in neutral.
Has no discretionary intellect.
Has no upper stage.
Has only one chopstick in the chowmein.
Has signs on both ears saying "Space for Rent".
Has so few thoughts that when he free associates, it's like watching tennis.
Has the attention span of an overripe grapefruit.
Has the brains of a house plant.
Has the Grand Canyon under the crew cut.
Has the IQ of a salad bar/an ice cube/three below houseplant.
Has the keen awareness of an ostrich in hiding.
Has the mental agility of a soap dish.
Has the personality of a snail on Valium.
Has the same talent as Dr. Doolittle.
Has two brains; one is lost and the other is out looking for it.
Hasn't caught on that X and Y are relative values.
Hasn't got all his china in the cupboard.
Hasn't got the brains God gave a cat.
Having a party in his head, but no one else is invited.
He demonstrates that beauty times brains is a constant.
He donated his brain to science but they made an early withdrawal.
He fell out of the ugly/stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.
He knows computers... He's not fit for contact with humans.
He writes blank checks on a closed account.
He's a General Protection Fault trigger.
He's a man on a mission, but can't find his dossier.
He's diagnosable.
He's not stupid; he's possessed by a retarded ghost.
He's really into himself... His head is up his ass.
He's so dense, light bends around him.
He's so dense, the Titanic wouldn't sink in his head.
Hears everything that a dog can.
Hears more lyrics on records when they're played backwards.
Her ancestors came to this country looking for bananas.
Her ass is sucking swamp gas.
Her blender doesn't go past "mix".
Her brain is more like a Rube Goldberg device than a computer.
Her dentist went deaf from the drill's echoes.
Her dialing thumb must be broken.
Her ears serve the same function as holes in a dribble glass.
Her head needs a periodic whack on the side.
Her leads need resoldering.
Her memory is truly random-access.
Her mental function can be graphed with a single dot.
Her mere presence causes parity errors, power fails, and head crashes.
Her mind is not grounded to a logic supply.
Her mind might have spontaneously combusted.
Her mind would be unstable even mounted on a tripod.
Her modem lights are on but there's no carrier.
Her phone doesn't quite reach her desk.
Her pool balls don't fit into the rack.
Her sewing machine's been out of thread for some time now.
Her ski lift doesn't go to the top of the hill.
Her synapses are about |that| far apart.
Her tires are a little low.
Her wipers don't touch the glass.
Hid behind the door when they passed out brains.
High relative humidity... He's lost in a fog.
His .sig is long, boring, and stupid, but it's the best part of his postings.
His actual mileage varies.
His antenna doesn't pick up all the channels.
His brain could be the perfect dielectric.
His brain was sold separately and they were out of stock.
His buffer is full.
His clutch is slipping.
His deck has no face cards.
His elevator is stuck between floors.
His family wasn't dysfunctional until he arrived.
His gene line isn't just dead, it's extinct.
His golf bag does not contain a full set of irons.
His head whistles in a cross wind.
His home planet is flat.
His IQ is a false positive.
His jack can't get the car off the ground.
His mind is a few Hertz off its assigned frequency.
His mind is less substantial than the Emperor's new clothes.
His mind is on vacation but his mouth is working overtime.
His mind is write-protected.
His mind reached escape velocity and achieved orbit.
His mind wandered and never came back.
His outgoing message starts with, "Hello, Mr. Answering Machine."
His page was intentionally left blank.
His picture is in the dictionary under "zero."
His puzzle is missing a few pieces.
His seat back is not in the full upright and locked position.
His signal-to-noise ratio is epsilon.
His spark can't jump the gap.
His strip is demagnetized.
His system administrator is never in.
His wisdom is stolen from bumper-stickers and T-shirts.
Hitler's evil twin.
Hyperspatially interconnected neural net.
Hypnotized as a child and couldn't be woken.
I wouldn't piss in his ear if his brain was on fire.
I'd like to buy him for what he's worth and sell him for what he thinks he's worth.
If brains were bird droppings, he'd have a clean cage.
If brains were dynamite, she wouldn't have enough to blow her nose/the wax out of her ears.
If brains were gasoline, he wouldn't have enough to drive a dinky car around the inside of a cheerio.
If brains were grains of sand, he couldn't fill a dixie cup.
If brains were lard, he'd be hard pressed to grease a small pan.
If brains were taxed, he'd get a rebate.
If brains were water, hers wouldn't be enough to baptize a flea.
If God tried to help him, we'd have an eight day week.
If he donated his brain to science it'd set civilization back 50 years.
If he gets any denser, the geocentric theory of the universe will come true.
If he had a lobotomy he'd depressurize.
If he had another brain, it would be lonely.
If he had brains, he'd take them out and play with them.
If he had half a brain, his ass would be lopsided.
If he were any brighter he'd be in the visible spectrum.
If he were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week.
If her brains were put in a hummingbird, it would fly backwards.
If his brain were a hard drive, it would back up on a single floppy.
If his brains were money, he'd still be in debt.
If his IQ was two points higher he'd be a rock.
If it's not in his horoscope/tea leaves, he doesn't take it seriously.
If sex appeal were dynamite, he couldn't blow the cobwebs off his balls.
If she was any dumber, she'd be a green plant.
If stupidity were a crime, he'd be number one on the Most Wanted list.
If the government ever declared war on stupidity, he'd get nuked.
If there were a merciful God he'd be dead by now.
If they knock heads, implosion will suck all the air out of the room.
If what you don't know can't hurt you, she's practically invulnerable.
If wit were shit, he'd be constipated.
If you give him a penny for his thoughts, you get change back.
If you stand close enough to him, you can hear the ocean.
Ignorant, and proud of it.
Immune from any serious head injury.
Immune to caffeine and all other stimulants.
In a tub of Preparation H, he'd shrink down to thumb size.
In his optimum environment, he'd be locked in a life and death struggle with mushrooms.
In line for brains, thought they said pains, and said, "No, thanks".
In need of a ROM upgrade.
In the pinball game of life, his flippers were a little further apart than most.
In the shopping mall of the mind, he's in the toy store.
Includes a "thank you" note with her tax returns.
Infinite space between her ears.
Informationally deprived.
Inhabits her own private timezone.
Inspected by #13.
Inspired the slogan, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste."
Intellectually/synaptically challenged.
IQ = dx/(1 + dx), where x = age.
IQ lower than a snake's belly in a wagon-rut.
It's hard to believe he beat 100,000 other sperm.
Just another flash in the bedpan.
Keeps his imagination on a long leash.
Knitting with only one needle.
Knows his sports, but his understanding is limited to violence.
Landing with his gear/brain up and locked.
Leaky sunroof.
Left hand threaded.
Left his booster on the launch pad.
Left the store without all of his groceries.
Leveled off before reaching altitude.
Life by Norman Rockwell, but screenplay by Stephen King.
Lightbulb over his head is burned out.
Lights are on but nobody's home.
Lights not burning too bright.
Like a barometer ­ vacuum at the top.
Like a loose-leaf folder in winter.
Like a one-armed man climbing a rope.
Likes dunking for french fries.
Little red choo-choo's gone chugging 'round the bend/jumped the track.
Lives in La-la-land.
Lives in the same world, but a different universe.
Living proof that nature does not abhor a vacuum.
Long on dry wall, short on studs.
Looking for a nickel in the corner of a circular room.
Looks for the "Any" key.
Loose chip on the microprocessor board.
Loose wire to his headset/ringer.
Low on thinking gas.
Lugnuts rattling in the hubcaps.
Made a career out of mid-life crisis.
Mainspring's wound too tight.
Makes predictions that make weathermen/economists look good.
Memorized every Dr. Seuss story written.
Mental software is Version 1.0/still in beta test.
Mentally qualified for handicapped parking.
Metronome needs oil.
Might be an example of how the dinosaurs survived for millions of years with walnut sized brains.
Might still be a virgin except for what nature did to her mind.
Mind like a steel sieve.
Mind like a steel trap ­ everything gets mangled/full of mice/nothing in, nothing out/rusted shut.
Missing a few buttons on his remote control.
Missing a few catalog cards/gears/marbles.
Missing a layer of insulation in his attic.
Mooring lines don't reach the dock.
More marbles in a spray-paint can than brains in his head.
Mouth is in gear, brain is in neutral.
Moves his lips to pretend he's reading.
Must have ignored a knock-down pitch.
Nearly on a higher plane, but lost his boarding pass.
Needs another brain to make half-wit.
Needs both hands to wipe his behind.
Needs front end alignment.
Needs his disk checked/reformatted.
Needs his sleeves lengthened by a couple of feet so they can be tied in the back.
Never had a headcold in her life since diseases can't exist in a vacuum.
Next-day delivery in a nanosecond world.
Nice house but not much furniture/nobody lives there.
Nine pence in the shilling.
Nineteen cents short of a paradigm.
No charge in her synapses.
No coins in the old fountain.
No filter in the coffeemaker.
No grain in the silo.
No hands on the rudder/yoke.
No hay in the loft.
No one at the throttle.
No wind in her mind's windmills.
Not as dumb as he looks, but that would be impossible.
Not digging in the same ditch with the rest of us.
Not done evolving yet.
Not enough brain cells for the Prozac to be effective.
Not enough brains to get anywhere *near* the gutter.
Not enough change to break a dollar/pound/deutschmark/yen.
Not enough sense to come in out of the rain.
Not enough sense to stay out in the rain (like a 60's flower child).
Not firing on all cylinders.
Not firmly seated in the socket/screwed in tight.
Not hard-docked.
Not inflated to 90 PSI.
Not Intel Inside.
Not much to show for four billion years of evolution.
Not only rude, but ugly too.
Not playing with/dealing from a full deck (not even in the game).
Not running on full thrusters.
Not shooting pool on a level table.
Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.
Not the full quid.
Not the same since they took him off his medication.
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Not Turing equivalent.
Not worth pissin' on.
Not wrapped too tight.
Nothing between the stethoscopes.
Nothing on her radar.
Numb as a post/pounded thumb.
Number 'n a hake. (New England expression; a notoriously stupid fish.)
Nutty as a fruitcake.
Off his rocker.
Oil doesn't reach his dipstick.
On permanent leave of absence from his senses.
On the batting end of a no-hitter.
One bit short of a byte.
One board short of a porch.
One boot stuck in the sand.
One bumper/rail short of a bank shot.
One bun/donut short of a dozen.
One car short of a chase scene.
One card/marble shy of a full deck.
One chip short of a megabyte.
One clearance short of landing/taking off.
One color short of color-coordinated.
One diamond short of a ring.
One dimension short of reality.
One drool bib short of neat and tidy.
One drop short of an empty bladder.
One Froot Loop shy of a full bowl.
One Fruit Loop shy of a full bowl.
One fruit short of a basket.
One hot pepper short of an enchilada.
One inspection short of passing.
One live brain cell away from being a talking monkey.
One miracle wouldn't be enough to help him.
One node short of a network.
One of the early failures of electroshock therapy.
One pearl short of a necklace.
One prayer short of absolution.
One punch/swing/hit short of a fight.
One puppet short of Sesame Street.
One sentence short of a paragraph.
One shade short of a rainbow.
One shingle shy of a roof, and the water's getting in.
One ship short of a full fleet.
One side short of a pentagon.
One snowflake short of a ski slope.
One song short of a musical.
One step short of the attic.
One strike past being called out.
One sub short of a party platter.
One taco short of a combination plate.
One tree short of a hammock.
One vine short of the tree. (For Tarzan types.)
One weight short of a shipwreck.
Only one oar in the water.
Only playing with 51 cards.
Only playing with the jokers.
Operating in stand-by mode.
Ought to have a warning label on his forehead.
Out there where the buses don't run.
Outlet isn't grounded.
Over the rainbow.
Overdue for reincarnation.
Overruns above 110 baud.
Paged/swapped out.
Paralyzed from the neck up.
Parents beat him with an ugly stick.
Parked his head and forgot where he left it.
Pedaling real fast, but not getting anywhere.
People around her are at risk of second hand idiocy.
Perfect face for Halloween.
Perfect percussionist for an acapella group (duh, duh, duh...)
Perfect training subject for apprentice hypnotists.
Permanently out to lunch.
Permanently rotated 90 degrees from the rest of us.
Phototrophic on a better day.
Pins 2 and 3 (RS-232) permanently connected to ground.
Playing an endgame with a king and no other pieces.
Playing baseball with a rubber bat.
Playing hockey with a warped puck.
Playing Scrabble, but we can't figure out what words he's building.
Plays pinochle with a poker deck.
Plays solitaire... for cash.
Plays tennis with no net and finds it challenging.
Plenty of myelin but not enough neurons.
Plenty of salt in the shaker, but no holes in the cap.
Posts empty articles to Usenet, and enjoys rereading them later.
Prefers three left turns to one right turn.
Pressure's up, but there's a slow leak somewhere.
Proof God did die back in the 60s.
Proof God has a sense of humor.
Proof of Einstein's theory that there is no limit to human stupidity.
Proof that evolution can go in reverse.
Put a lens in each ear and you've got a telescope.
Puts a finger in his ear so the draft through his head isn't annoying.
Putting his brain on the edge of a razor blade would be like putting a pea on a six lane highway.
Quotes entire letters/articles as responses and hides her one line of wisdom in the middle.
Racing fifty yards with a pregnant woman, he'd come in third.
Reading from an empty/blank/unformatted disk.
Reads her newspaper back-to-front.
Reads Homer in the original Greek, but doesn't know Greek.
Ready to check in at the HaHa Hilton.
Ready to join the Anti-Mensa Society.
Receiver is off the hook.
Relatively three-dimensional, as fictional characters go.
Renewable energy source for hot air balloons.
Reset line is glitching.
Result of a first cousin marriage.
Room for rent, unfurnished.
RS232C brain with a DIN connector.
Running at 300 baud.
Running on a lean mixture.
Running on empty.
Running open (old mechanical teletype term).
Running U.S. appliances on British current.
Runs squares around the competition.
Rusty springs in the mousetrap.
S p a c e d O u t .
Sailboat fuel for brains.
Sat under the ozone hole too long.
Sending back packets, but the checksums are wrong.
Serving donuts on another planet.
Settled some during shipping and handling.
Seven seconds behind, and built to stay that way.
Several drawers short of a filing cabinet.
Several nuts over fruitcake minimum.
Several nuts short of a full pouch.
She can piss standing up, but not much else.
She only packed half a sandwich.
She wears a pony tail to cover up the valve stem.
She worries about the calories licking stamps and envelopes.
Short a few cards.
Short-circuited between the earphones.
Should be the poster child for family planning.
Should have kept his helmet on while riding/playing.
Single-sided, low density.
Sitting in the right pew, but the wrong church.
Skating on the wrong side of the ice.
Skylight leaks a little.
Slept too close to his radium-dial watch.
Slinky's kinked.
Sloppy as a soup sandwich.
Slow as molasses in January.
Slow out of the gate.
Smarter than the average bear.
Smoke doesn't make it to the top of his chimney.
So boring, his dreams have Muzak.
So dim, his psychic carries a flashlight.
So dumb, blondes tell jokes about him.
So dumb, he faxes face up.
So dumb, his dog teaches him tricks.
So far gone, hard drugs push him closer to normal.
So fat, people jump over him rather than go around.
So slow, he has to speed up to stop.
So slow, we drive stakes in the ground to measure his progress.
So stupid, mind readers charge her half price.
So ugly, robbers give him their masks to wear.
Solid concrete from the eyebrows backwards.
Some Assembly Required.
Some bugs in his software.
Some drink from the fountain of knowledge, but he just gargled.
Some pages missing.
Somebody lend her a quarter to buy a clue.
Someday when she's younger...
Someone blew out his pilot light.
Someone else is doing the driving for that boy.
Someone let the air out of her lock.
Sort of like an inverse Einstein.
Source code is missing a few lines.
Speaks math/FORTRAN better than English.
Spent a decade on the leading edge of drug experimentation.
Still sending messages with his secret decoder ring.
Still traumatized from the forest fire in "Bambi".
Stocksy-babes (a truly vile British-slang insult).
Strong, like bull. Smart, like tractor. Beautiful, like KV-2 (a WWII era Russian tank).
Stumped by anything child-proof.
Subtle as a well-thrown brick.
Suffers from Clue Deficit Disorder.
Supports nativist theories that man is formed from clay.
Surfing in Nebraska.
Swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool.
Switch is on, but no one's receiving.
Takes her 1.5 hours to watch "60 Minutes".
Takes his imagination out for a walk and ends up being dragged around the block by it.
Talks to plants on their own level.
Team player... No chance he'll develop a personality on his own.
Teflon brain - ­nothing sticks.
The best part of him ran down his mother's legs.
The butter slipped off his noodle.
The cheese slid off his cracker.
The definitive answer is: Her glass is half empty.
The fan is working but the freon's leaked out.
The going got weird, and he turned pro.
The heater's plugged in but the rheostat's shot.
The perfect personality to write software manuals.
The space between his ears powers vacuum pumps.
The spit valve's fallen off his trumpet again.
The twinkle in his eyes is actually the sun shining between his ears.
The two put together have an IQ over 150.
The wheel's spinning but the hamster's dead.
There's nothing wrong with you that couldn't be cured with a little Prozac and a polo mallet.
Thick as a brick.
Thick as pig dung and twice as smelly.
Thinks "Private Enterprise" means owning a personal starship.
Thinks a permutation is a medical procedure.
Thinks at 5 baud.
Thinks cellular phones are carbon-based life forms.
Thinks E=MC2 is a rap star.
Thinks in lower case and types accordingly.
Thinks like a boar hog looks at a wristwatch.
Thinks male zebras are the ones with the black stripes.
Thinks Moby Dick is a kind of venereal disease.
Three chickens short of a henhouse.
Three miracles shy of being where he thinks he's at.
Three-bag/coyote ugly. (Ask your mommy to explain.)
Throws his rod and reel off the bridge when casting.
Too many birds on her antenna.
Too many jokers and not enough aces in his deck.
Too many stop bits in his transmissions.
Too much yardage between the goal posts.
Too pointless to even be called a pinhead.
Took the little bus to school.
Top paddock is full of rocks.
Toys in the attic.
Train of thought derailed/still boarding at the station.
Traveling faster than light, but left his sneakers behind.
Traveling without a passport/towel.
Truck can't haul a full load.
Trying out for the javelin retrieval team.
Tuning in shortwave with a TV antenna.
Two bits shy of a word.
Two chapters short of a novel.
Two degrees off square.
Two inches taller than spherical.
Two saucers short of a tea-service.
Two sheep short of a sweater.
Two socks short of a pair.
Two suits short of a full deck (a half-wit).
Types 120 words a minute but her keyboard isn't plugged in.
Uglier than a hat full of assholes. (Whatever that means.)
Ugly as a warthog and half as smart.
Unclear which of Newton's three laws of motion keeps his ears apart.
Understands English as well as any parrot.
Useful as a chocolate teapot.
Useful as a football bat.
Useful as a hip pocket on a T-shirt.
Useful as a kickstand on a horse.
Useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
Useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle.
Useful as piss on a forest fire.
Useful as tits on a bullfrog/bull/boar-hog.
Uses his head best for rolling Easter eggs.
Uses his head to keep the rain out of his neck.
Uses thumbtacks to post notes on his refrigerator.
Uses two hands to eat with chopsticks.
Using a 1S-2D floppy for brains in a world of hard disks.
Vacancy on the top floor.
Vacuuming linoleum using a deep-pile setting (not picking up anything).
Vaginally challenged, and preoccupied with the problem.
Vertically-fornicated mind.
Views mold as a higher life form.
Warning: Objects in mirror are dumber than they appear.
Warranty expired.
Was born an acrobat but landed on his head.
Was first in line for brains, but ended up holding the door open.
Was left on the Tilt-A-Whirl a bit too long as a baby.
Was napping in the nut pile the day God was cracking nuts.
Wasn't abused as a child, but should have been.
Wasn't strapped in during launch.
Watches "Beavis and Butthead" to learn vocabulary.
Went in for repairs but wasn't tightened with a torque wrench.
Went to the dentist to have his cranial cavity filled.
Wheel is turning, but the hampsters are dead.
When he was compiled they forgot to #include //.
When they said "drain", he thought they said "brain".
Whole lotta choppin', but no chips a flyin'.
Wise as the world is flat.
With one more neuron he'd have a synapse.
Won't eat eggs because he believes the "This is your brain" ads.
Would make an excellent illustration in a proctology textbook.
Zero K memory.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Burning Times by Christy Moore

In the cold of the evening, they used to gather.
Neath the stars in the meadow, circled near the old oak tree.

At the times appointed.. by the seasons..
of the earth, and the phases of the moon.

In the center, often stood a woman,
equal with the others, respected for her worth.

One of the many.. we call the witches,
the healers, the teachers, of the wisdom of the earth.

And the people grew in the knowledge she gave them,
herbs to heal their bodies, spells to make their spirits whole.

Hear them chanting healing incantations,
calling for the wise ones, celebrating in dance and song...

(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)
(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)

There were those that came to power, through domination.
They were bonded in their worship of a dead man on a cross.

They sought control of the common people,
by demanding allegiance to the church of Rome.

And the Pope, he commenced the inquisition,
As a war against the women, whose powers they feared.

In this holocaust, in this age of evil,
Nine million European women, they died.

And the tale is told, of those who by the hundreds,
holding hands together, chose their deaths in the sea.

While chanting the praises of the Mother Goddess,
a refusal of betrayal, women were dying to be free.

(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)
(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)

Now the earth is a witch, and we still burn her.
Stripping her down with mining, and the poison of our wars.

Still to us, the earth is a healer, a teacher, and a mother.
A weaver of a web of light, that keeps us all alive.

She gives us the vision to see through the chaos.
She gives us the courage, it is our will to survive.

(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)
(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)
(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)
(...Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali... Inurna...)

More from Sit Down and Shut Up Ford

The Ford dealer in Mojave, CA, has issued a non-apologetic apology for their "sit down and shut up" ad I mentioned earlier. It's on their front page, and I'll copy it here for you.

This statement is provided in response to reaction prompted by a radio commercial that Kieffe & Sons Ford recently ran referring to issues of God in our schools and on our money.

For 15 years, Kieffe and Sons Ford has run ad campaigns that focus on current events. We have chosen to do this rather than presenting typical car sales ads. We do this through an agency that develops the material and sends us a package of commercials to review. From this, we select commercials that we distribute to area radio stations. Frequently we emphasize humor and patriotic themes, as we are located adjacent to two military bases. Public response over these 15 years has been hugely positive, often eliciting calls and visits from appreciative individuals. Regrettably, the commercial that has prompted the current objection to religious sentiment ("Under God", "In We Trust") was not closely reviewed by our dealership before it went live. The commercial has been replaced. We apologize to all who were offended. It is Kieffe and Sons' intention to support America and the freedoms that make this country great."

Rick Kieffe, President "

Note this bit: "Regrettably, the commercial that has prompted the current objection to religious sentiment ("Under God", "In We Trust")..."

No, it's not "Under God" or "In We Trust" that raised the ruckus, it was "sit down and shut up." That was the cherry of irony, sitting on the whipped cream of smug superiority that topped of that tasty, tasty slice of bigot pie.

If you read this, you will see that they're not actually apologizing for anything they did, they're sorry anyone else was offended, those thin-skinned whiny cry-babies.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

10 more "proofs" for god

11. Argument from Creation, aka Argument from Personal Incredulity (I)
(1) If evolution is false, then creationism is true, and therefore God exists.
(2) Evolution can't be true, since I lack the mental capacity to understand it; moreover, to accept its truth would cause me to be uncomfortable.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

I see this one a lot. It boils down to: I'm too stupid to be wrong. Let's tear into it bit, shall we?

Step 1: it is implicitly claimed that evolution/creationism is a binary choice, one or the other, pick one, no other choices. Totally unproven. I have to admit, though, that I can't think of an alternative, but I'm also not so arrogant as to claim that just because I can't think of it, it doesn't exist.

Step 2: I could go into length, but PZ put it best: Ignorance is not evidence. I would add, "and neither is whatever makes you feel better."

12. Argument from Fear
(1) If there is no God then we're all going to not exist after we die.
(2) I'm afraid of that.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

You will notice that a lot of these "arguments" boil down to "I want.../I don't want..." In this case, it's, "I want to live forever/I don't want to die." So, here we go.

Step 1: So far in my life, I haven't noticed reality paying much attention to what I want to happen or not happen, or what I'm afraid might happen or not happen. I was afraid of tipping my truck over on that crappy dirt road, but that fear didn't make any discernable difference on what happened.

Step 2: So you're afraid of not existing. People are scared of a lot of things. I'm an arachnophobe, but you know, there are still spiders. Huh.

13. Argument from the Bible
(1) [arbitrary passage from OT]
(2) [arbitrary passage from NT]
(3) Therefore, God exists.

Yes, this is just as lame as it looks. You could just as well say, "1. random newspaper article. 2. Second random newspaper article. 3. Therefore, God exists."

I'm afraid to look ahead, but I'd be money that we're going to see the ultimate circular logic claim somewhere ahead: "1: The bible is the word of god, so it's true. 2: How do I know? The bible says so. 3: Therefore, god exists." I'll break that one apart when we get to it.

14. Argument from Intelligence
(1) Look, there's really no point in me trying to explain the whole thing to you stupid Atheists — it's too complicated for you to understand. God exists whether you like it or not.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

Ah, there's the Christian humility I've come to expect from the humble, Christ-like Christian.

Step 1: I could just as easily say, "Look, you ignorant religious fool, you're too stupid to understand why there's no god. There is no god, no matter what stupid beliefs you may hold." I won't, though. I might think it really, really loudly, depending on who I'm talking to, because some people really are just that stupid. But you what's different? I'd try until I turned blue in the face/my fingers were bleeding stumps to explain it first, repeated, at length, over and over again, until I was forced to believe that the person I was talking to actually was that stupid.

I've also noticed that the people who claim to be that much smarter, usually aren't.

Step 2. your arrogance is proof that you're arrogant, nothing more, nothing less.

15. Argument from Unintelligence
(1) Okay, I don't pretend to be as intelligent as you guys — you're obviously very well read. But I read the Bible, and nothing you say can convince me that God does not exist. I feel him in my heart, and you can feel him too, if you'll just ask him into your life. "For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son into the world, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish from the earth." John 3:16.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

Welcome to the grand American tradition that intelligence, actually thinking things through, is inferior to unsupported faith.

What does this one boil down to? God is real because I believe he is. Well, you know, I might believe I've got a million dollars in the bank, but if I did, it wouldn't change my bank balance.

16. Argument from Belief
(1) If God exists, then I should believe in Him.
(2) I believe in God.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

You know what this one really is? It's the belief that I'm Special! Since I believe in God, he's real. You don't believe, but that doesn't mean anything, because you're not special, like me.

You're right, I'm not special. Never thought so, never will. Or, if you prefer, I'm a unique snowflake, just like you and everyone else in the world.

17. Argument from Intimidation
(1) See this bonfire?
(2) Therefore, God exists.

An old favorite of the Catholic Church. Believe or die in the worst way we can think of, and we've got some really creative people.

If you have to use force, or the threat of force, your claim doesn't have much else to back it up.

18. Parental Argument
(1) My mommy and daddy told me that God exists.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

Two word answer: Santa Claus

19. Argument from Numbers
(1) Millions and millions of people believe in God.
(2) They can't all be wrong, can they?
(3) Therefore, God exists.

6.something billion people on the planet. About 2 billion people are Christians, over 4 billion are not. 4,000,000,000 non-Christians can't be wrong, can they? Therefore, there is no God.

20. Argument from Absurdity
(1) Maranathra!
(2) Therefore, God exists.

That makes no sense at all. At least the "argument" is aptly named. Hey, here's an answer: "1: Brussels Sprouts! 2: Therefore, there is no god."

In the name of free speech: sit down and shut up!

I read this at PZ's place, who got it from here. A Ford dealer in Mojave, California went on the radio with a radio spot that included, among other things, this jem:

"But did you know that 86% of Americans say they believe in God? Since we all know that 86 out of every 100 of us are Christians, who believe in God, we at Keiffe & Sons Ford wonder why we don't tell the other 14% to sit down and shut up. I guess maybe I just offended 14% of the people who are listening to this message. Well, if that is the case then I say that's tough, this is America folks, it's called free speech. None of us at Keiffe & Sons Ford are afraid to speak out. Keiffe & Sons Ford on Sierra Highway in Mojave and Rosamond, if we don't see you today, by the grace of God, we'll be here tomorrow."

I won't go into the basic error, that "believes in god" does not equal "believes in the christian god."

No, I'm looking at the strongly implied claim that he can have free speech, but people he disagrees with (or who disagree with him) do not, or should not, have that same right.

Just for a second, imagine this: replace the 86/14% bit with these:

"You blacks should just sit down and shut up. This is a white nation."

"You jews should just sit down and shut up. This is a christian nation." Oh, wait, that's the claim he's basically making already, even though it's a lie.

"All you uppity women should just sit down and shut up. This is a man's nation."

Anything wrong with those?

Or how about this one: "All you damn gays should just sit down and shut up!" Actually, from some christians, this would be a vast improvement over "Let's go kill us a faggot!"

But atheists and other unbelivers? We're only minority it's unabashedly alright to discriminate against. Blacks? No. Jews? Hell, no. Women? Don't even think about it. Muslims? Only if you're a Republican speaking head. Atheists? Sure! Everyone knows that there's nothing stopping atheists from running amok, raping and killing to their empty little heart's content, whereas the devout have the word of Yaweh/God/Allah to prevent all that.

Of course, it's surely Satan confusing things by making atheists 15% of the national population, and only 0.2% of the prison population.

But, I fall away from my main point. Free speech, to be free speech, has to go both ways. You have to have the right to say what you want to say, or feel needs to be said, but so does everyone else. "I talk, you sit down and shut up!" isn't free speech, it's a form of dictatorship.

I get e-mails that say the same thing. Long, rambling, bigoted e-mails, refusing this or that right to others, and they all end with this line, or something very much like it:

"If you agree, pass it along. If you don't, delete it."

What's that mean? Boiled down, it means just what the Ford dealer in Mojave, CA meant: "Free speech for me, but not for you."

Special rights for me, not for you.

Any rights I claim for me, whatever rights I decide to let you have, for you.

And that ain't free. It isn't American. It's Christian.

Further update

I went in for my 1000 interview today at Keim. They asked a few questions about the accident, went over the pay and benefits package (not bad), took my information and told me to call back at 1600. They were going to call Beatrice Concrete to verify prior employment. I called at 1600 and Peggy (the HR person) said, "We called your previous employer and they gave you a glowing review."

One of the recruiters is calling around to check on me (probably driving record), and Peggy's going to talk to the other people she talks to about these things. I'm supposed to call again tomorrow at 1000 and she's going to give me a yes/no then.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Well. Hell.

Went to the doctor for a follow up yesterday & got a release to work. So, today was my first day back to work, and my last.

That's right, I've been fired. They're not wanting to call it that, but that's what it boils down to. No one who's looked at the scene of the wreck can understand how it happened, they're afraid I might have another, worse accident (because another driver had a second, worse accident) and they don't feel comfortable letting me get behind the wheel again. Etc, etc etc.

So I've got the rest of today and tomorrow on the last of my vacation time, and they're going to pay me for Monday, Memorial Day, oh, and I'm not fired/released/let go/whatever yet.

They're going to talk to all the other site managers and see if there's something else they can find for me to do. Oh, yeah.

I really want to keep driving - I'd love an over the road job - but I just can't see it happening.

"What's your reason for leaving your last job?"

"Uh, I rolled a fully-loaded truck and they let me go."

Nah, can't see that flying well.

Update, 23 May 08: I called Tom, at Keim Trucking, in Sabetha Kansas. My opening words: "I want to apply for a job driving with Keim, but I just got let go from my last job, with Beatrice Concrete, for rolling a full-loaded concrete truck. Am I wasting time, or do I have a chance?"

He said, "It'll be tough. Call me back in an hour."

I called back in an hour. I've got a 1000 job interview on Tuesday morning.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008


Yep, I hurt myself. On Monday, 12 May 08, at about 1330, I rolled a fully-loaded concrete truck.

Some details: I was told that morning to be in Fairbury by 0900, because they had a big job lined up and needed an extra truck or two. The job was down in Kansas, about fifty miles away from the Fairbury plant. They told me the last nine miles or so were all gravel, shading down to dirt and the last couple of miles were exceptionally bad.

Boy, they weren't kidding! The last couple of miles were nothing but dirt, with soft spots all over. The job site was at the top of a steep hill, and right at the bottom of the hill the road was badly rutted. I hit it going a little too fast, and if I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt it would have thrown me out of the seat. When I got back to the plant and was loaded for a return trip, I decided that I was going to cross that spot slooowly, even if it meant I would have to climb the hill in granny low. No way in hell was I going to go for a ride like that again!

So much for plans. I made my way back down south, trying to avoid as many of the soft spots in the road as I could. At what I think is about a half-mile or so from the job site, I believed that I was at the last hill but one from the job site. Remembering how badly the road had thrown me around the last time, I started slowing. I was down to about 30 m/h when I hit another soft spot. It yanked the truck hard to the left, so I countersteered to the right. The truck started to fishtail, right, left then right again. I was trying to countersteer my way through the skid, when on the second swerve to the right, it felt like the tires caught on something, instead of steering, and the truck started to tip to the left.

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes and finding the truck laying on the driver's side, and my legs pinched between the steering wheel and the seat. My first thought was, "I have got to be dreaming," but no, I was wide awake. A glance at the dash clock told me it was 1330. I also saw that the cab of the truck was smashed down over the driver's seat, and that there was blood splattered all over that side of the cab.

My legs were hurting from being pinched, so I tried to free them. The right leg came loose easily enough, but the left was caught between the steering wheel, the seat and the door handle. I spent the next hour or so trying to get the seat to move down, alternating with trying to raise someone, anyone, on the radio.

I wasn't too worried, because they were loading trucks at 20 minute intervals, and the next truck should be along pretty soon. Then I found my clipboard with the job ticket on it, and saw that I was the last truck to the job. Still, I figured I'd be found, if nothing else, the customer would get tired of waiting for me, call the plant and complain, and people would start wondering where I was. If they ordered another truck, the driver of that truck would find me when they got there.

Finally, shortly after 1400 (though it felt much, much longer) I got ahold of Brent, the driver of 211, the truck ahead of me. He had just left the job site and was about 4 miles east. He told me he didn't have a cell phone, and didn't seem to be able to raise the plant. I had him turn around and go back to the job site. Hopefully someone there would have a cell phone, and be able to call the plant and let them know what had happened. I also asked him to try and get some tools from the people at the job site and see if we could get the steering wheel off and release my left leg. Brent asked if I wanted him to call 911 and I said it sounded like a good idea.

At about 1430 a group of farmers came by and talked to me, but didn't have any tools, so weren't really any help. A few minutes later, though, a truck full of people from the job site showed up, but the only tools they'd managed to find was a small pair of vise grips (and I mean small, the five-inch size) and a small pipe wrench.

We got the nut off holding the steering wheel, but couldn't get the steering wheel off the column. I was able, however, to get one of them to reach in under the seat from behind, through where the rear window was supposed to be, and get at the seat controls and hit the control to lower the seat. I grabbed the steering wheel and tried to pull myself and the seat down, and one of the other guys put his foot on the seat and pushed against the cab. We were able to push the seat down by almost a foot, releasing my leg from the pressure it'd been under for at least an hour. Damn, that felt good.

About that time, a sheriff came on the scene and checked to see if I was alright. I told him that under the circumstances, I was doing fine, and he agreed. We talked a bit, and he told me I was the second truck accident in a week, the other being a semi that'd run off the road and burned to the ground the previous Friday. That driver hadn't made it out, and he was glad to see I was okay. He asked for my driver's license, and I gave it to him.

Now all I had to do was get out from under steering wheel, probably by laying on my back and moving my legs from straight forward to straight back, and I should be able to get out. I gave the steering wheel one last yank, and it came off. I handed it out to someone outside the truck and prepared to stand up and get out. At that point, an ambulance arrived, and the ambulance crew helped me stand up and exit the cab through the smashed back window.

I had wanted to walk around the truck ans see how bad it was, but as soon as I was out of the truck, they strapped me onto a backboard while I was still standing, put a neck brace on me, then put me on a gurney, slid it into the ambulance and hauled ass for the Washington County Hospital.

According to the copy of the ER report they gave me, I arrived there at 1511. It must have been a slow day for them, because there were at least five or six nurses there. They cut my tee-shirt off, which was no great loss. It was pretty well blood soaked, and I knew Lisa, my wife, would just throw it away anyway. They did the usual poke, prod and twist "does it hurt here? How about here? When I move this?" and a couple of x-rays of the neck, then wheeled me out of the building to a mobile cat scan they'd just got a few months ago.

After the cat scan, they wheeled me back into the building and back into ER. Apparently the x-rays and cat scan looked good, no damage, so they took the neck brace off and unstrapped me from the back board. I called my wife then, telling her where I was and that they were going to release me. That would have been about 1630. Next I called the Beatrice Plant and told them where I was and how I was doing. I talked to Ray Wagner, the plant supervisor, and he passed my call onto Catherine Renshaw, the company's HR and safety person. She called back down to the hospital and told me (and them) that she was glad I was doing okay and that company policy required a drug test.

No problem, I had to piss anyway, so I went into the tiny bathroom attached to the ER and filled the cup. Then they gave me a set of scrubs and put me in a room for a while. They were going to release me, but they wanted to watch me for a bit longer and, for some reason, wanted me to eat something before I left. Anyway, I wasn't going anywhere until Lisa showed up to take me home.

She got there with Amee and Jamee, my step-daughters at about 1715 - 1720. A few minutes after they got there, a drug tester from the company's insurance company showed up. Apparently the urine sample I'd give earlier in the ER was no good, due to wrong or insufficient paperwork. She also needed to take a breath test for alcohol. No problem, I blew into the little black box and pissed into another cup.

They brought me supper a little before six. I ate what I could, but didn't have a whole lot of appetite. I changed out of the scrubs and into a pair of sweat pants, tee-shirt and tennis shoes Lisa had brought down with her, and they signed me out of the hospital at 1800.

We played "find the driver's license" for a while. It was at the cop shack, it was on its way to the hospital, they were going to mail it to me and so on."

I asked Lisa to drive out to the scene of the accident, because I hadn't had a chance to see it. When we got there, there was a semi-tow truck, a large crane, the sheriff and a half-dozen or so people from the Fairbury plant and the Beatrice shop. Apparently they were trying to pull the truck back on its wheels and tow it away. I talked to the sheriff a few minutes, and it turned out that Larry Leners, one of the shop guys, had my license. He came over and gave it to me and told me I was damn lucky to be alive.

I was running out of steam at that point, so I gimped back to the car and waited while the girls took pictures of the truck. They'd given me some darvocet for pain and flexeril, a muscle relaxant, and on our way back through Washington, we stopped & got something to drink. I popped one of each, and when we got home at 2000 I went straight to bed and didn't get up for about 12 hours.

Fast forward:

I went to see my doctor on Thursday, 15 May 08 for a follow up. He did the poke, prod and twist, then ordered some x-rays and a venal doppler scan for clots. The x-rays came back okay, and he prescribed an antibiotic, since he was worried that the scrape on my shoulder might be getting infected. Scheduled another follow up on Wednesday, 21 May 08.

We stopped by the office to talk with Catherine, then by the shop to look at the truck. It's in the back lot, behind the shop, and according to the insurance adjuster, it's totaled, because the frame is bent. I got some pictures of it, and plan to take some more. (Pictures here)

The next day, Friday, 16 May 08, I went in to the Gage County Hospital for the venous doppler scan, which came back clear, no clots.

Friday, I got a call from the worker's comp adjuster, who wanted to know who was at fault. I had to tell her I didn't think anyone was really at fault. I should get my first worker's comp payment this Friday, if I'm still unable work then.

Bottom line: I came out of this wreck a hell of a lot better than I could have. The only damage I took was scrapes on the left side: head, elbow, ribs and knee. Oh, and a dandy set of bruises on the inside of the right elbow, where they tried and failed to put in an IV. There's also two very sore patches, one on the upper left arm and most of the left thigh. The leg is where it was pinched between the seat, door and steering wheel, but I don't know what happened to the arm.

The first few day I really had trouble walking. Every few steps, my left knee would give out. After that, though, it's pretty much okay, aside from still wanting to fold up under every so often. The scrapes on my head, ribs and knee are almost all gone, but there's still some bruising. I still have a bruise on my left elbow, which is actually growing, and the bruise from the IV attempt on the right elbow. The sore arm and leg haven't bruised, but they still hurt, but not as bad as they did. The scrape on my elbow isn't getting better very fast, but then again, I managed to rip it wide open by jamming the corner of a shelf right into, letting it bleed freely.

Still, whenever something hurts, I just remind myself, "It could have been worse."

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Salvador Cordova

Just got my first e-mail from Salvador Cordova. I've never read anything of his directly, but I've read excepts of his "work" at various blogs. Oddly enough, even though he comes across as your standard-issue creationist/idiot, he's also apparently a spammer. What else would explain an e-mail from "Salvador Cordova" with the subject line of "Lesbian Sex Two young hot lezzies teasing gibromuscular"? Sal, I thought you could do better than this.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Liberty and Justice for ALL!

I was reading this and ran across this line: "remember: Liberty and justice for ALL."

That made me stop and think. Liberty and Justice for All. That's not "almost all," "all but the ones we don't like," "us," or "just some of you." For All. For everyone, regardless of race, religion, sex/gender/orientation. Everyone.

Now, this "liberty and justice for all" sounded familiar to me, like I'd heard it before.

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Now, as I recall, the fundies were having conniptions because Michael Newdow, IIRC, wanted the "under God" part stricken. According to them, every word of the pledge had to be there. If "under God" has to be there, so does "justice and liberty for all." If "under God" is supposed to have real meaning, so does "liberty and justice for all."

And who was dead-set that "under God" had to remain? The fundies. And who is just as dead-set that "liberty and justice for all" doesn't actually mean all, but some? The fundies. And who shows themselves to be a bunch of hypocritical bastards by way of this? The fundies.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

proof of god?

Actually, that's proofs of god? At this page, there's a list of alleged proofs of god's existence, titled Hundreds of Proofs of God's Existence. I haven't read all of them, yet, but the ones I have all seem to have one or more holes in the reasoning.

I thought I'd go through them and point out what I see wrong with them. Not all of them at once - there's over 500 of them. I' do ten or twenty of them at a time - should be enough here to keep me in blog posts for a while.

1. Transcendental Argument, a.k.a. Presuppositionalist (I)
(1) If reason exists then God exists.
(2) Reason exists.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

This "proof" has the same hole in it that most of the ones I've looked at so far have: there's no reason given in step one, the "if-then" statement, to show that the then follows from the if. i.e. what's the connection between reason existing and god existing?

I could just as well make this argument:
(1) If believers make illogical arguments, there is no god.
(2) Believers make illogical arguments.
(3) Therefore, there is no god.

However, the logic or illogic of an argument does not directly prove its truth or falsity.

Here is an illogical argument that is still true:
(1) Water is spelled with a 'w'
(2) Wet is also spelled with a 'w'
(3) Therefore, water is wet

Yes, water is wet, but it's got nothing to do with the way it's spelled.

2. Cosmological Argument, a.k.a. First Cause Argument (I)
(1) If I say something must have a cause, it has a cause.
(2) I say the universe must have a cause.
(3) Therefore, the universe has a cause.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

A variant on the version of the first cause argument I usually see, which goes like this: "All things must have a cause; the universe must have a cause; that cause is god." The standard reply to the standard first cause argument is: "If everything must have a cause, what caused god?"

This argument has a couple of holes in it. Step 1 boils down to "because I say so," which looks to me like a form of argument from authority. Step 2, if the universe must have a cause, it will (or not) whether or not you say it must. Step 3: see Step 2. Step 4: the link between the universe (or anything else) needing a cause and god is merely alleged, and is in no way demonstrated.

Oh, yeah: what caused god?

3. Ontological Argument (I)
(1) I Define God to be X.
(2) Since I can conceive of X, X must exist.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

1: You can define god as anything you want, but if you're defining something, you're not explaining it, you're creating it.

2: I can conceive of a great number of things, but I don't assume that my conception of them is enough to make them real. In many cases, I'm glad of that. Just because I can conceive of Cthulhu does not mean I think (or want) him to exist.

4. Ontological Argument (II)
(1) I can conceive of a perfect God.
(2) One of the qualities of perfection is existence.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

Step 1: Really, you can't conceive of a perfect anything. You can think of the label, "Perfect X" where X is whatever you want it to be, but slapping a label on a conception is not the same as actually being able to conceive of somethings actual "perfection."

Step 2: I can conceive of a perfect frog, but that doesn't mean there is such a thing.

(1) I can conceive of the perfect bank account, one that contains several million dollars.
(2) One of the qualities of perfection is existence.
(3) Therefore, I have a bank account containing several million dollars.
Sadly enough, a quick check shows that in fact, I do not have a bank account containing several million dollars.

5. Modal Ontological Argument
(1) God is either necessary or unnecessary.
(2) God is not unnecessary, therefore god must be necessary.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

Step 1: Necessity and reality do not always overlap. A hiker has a heart attack miles away from the nearest person. He needs a doctor, badly, but has no way to communicate that need. His necessity is not matched by existence, and he dies. Did he need a doctor? Yes. Did a doctor exist there to help him? No.

Step 2: it is not shown that god is necessary.

6. Teleological Argument, a.k.a. Design Argument (I)
(1) Check out the world/universe/giraffe. Isn't it complex?
(2) Only God could have made them so complex.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

We're going to see this one a lot, in different forms. It boils down to this: "See that? Only god could do that, so god is real."

Step 1: On the whole, the universe is empty space. Not what I'd consider to be all that complex.

Step 2: again, it's not shown that god is the only possible answer for complexity.

Argument from Beauty, a.k.a. Design/Teleological Argument (II)
(1) Isn't that baby/sunset/flower/tree beautiful?
(2) Only God could have made them so beautiful.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

I told you we'd see this one again.

Step 2: Again, it's not shown that god is the only possible answer for beauty.

Shouldn't there be a matching Argument from Ugliness?
(I) Isn't that an ugly baby/dog/whatever?
(2) Only god could make anything that ugly.
(3) Therefore, god exists.

8. Argument from Miracles (I)
(1) My aunt had cancer.
(2) The doctors gave her all these horrible treatments.
(3) My aunt prayed to God and now she doesn't have cancer.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

Still waiting for proof that it was the prayer that made the cancer go away, and not the "horrible" treatments. Or plain, for reasons unknown to us, remission.

If christians really believed in miracles, especially miracles of this kind, they they're blatant hypocrites for ever going to the hospital. Sick? Injured? Wounded? Will the average christian pray for god to help them, or pray they can get to the hospital in time?

Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Medicine over miracles every time.

9. Moral Argument (I)
(1) Person X, a well-known Atheist, was morally inferior to the rest of us.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

Step 1: no connection between X's atheism (and by the way, atheism isn't a proper noun, and thus doesn't need to be capitalized) and his immorality.

"Person Y, a well-known christian, is morally inferior to the rest of us. Therefore, there is no god."

Ken Hamm, noted creationist and tax-evader, is in prison for tax evasion. Guess that proves there's no god.

10. Moral Argument

(1) In my younger days, I was a cursing, drinking, smoking, gambling, child-molesting, thieving, murdering, bed-wetting bastard.
(2) That all changed once I became religious.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

In my younger days, I cursed, drank, smoked, gambled, stole etc. That all stopped about the same time I gave up religion. (Okay, I still curse, and since I buy powerball tickets from time to time, I still gamble.)

This is as good a point as any to mention that the plural of anecdote is anecdotes, not data. In other words, a friend of a friend of a relatives friend did something is meaningless.

Step 2: no link shown between giving up bad behaviors and embracing a religion.

That's enough for now, more later. I'm going to have to go read Pharyngula to wash the stupid off.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Must-Have Linux Software, part 1

A follow-up to last year's widely ignored post on must-have software for the mac. I imagine I'd get actual hits, readers and comments if I ever told anyone I had a blog. Anyway, the linux software I've gotta have.

Ubuntu Linux. Let's start off with the basics. I actually use Kubuntu, since I vastly prefer KDE to Gnome, but there's some software that comes with Ubuntu I've gotta have. I could install Kubuntu, then run sudo apt-get install ubuntu-desktop but I usually go the other way, mainly because it seems that the Ubuntu disk images download faster and install easier. Why, I don't know.

I do know, though, the last time I decided to try a clean install, Ubuntu was the only flavor that would actually install. Kubuntu, nope; Mepis, nope; a couple more I can't remember, no joy. Actually, Puppy would install, and was screaming fast, but a pain to use and ugly to look at. Sorry, pup, I'm lazy and automount is a good thing.

Anyway, once I get Ubuntu installed, a quick trip to the terminal, followed by sudo apt-get install kubuntu-desktop and I'm in business. Here's some of the software I've got to have installed to be happy. Some of it comes pre-installed, some not.

Epiphany Web Browser
Yes, Firefox is pre-installed, and I use Firefox for almost all of my web-browsing, but Epiphany has one thing going for it that Firefox lacks: If I shift+click on a link, it downloads whatever's on the other end of that link. If Firefox does this, I haven't figured out how yet.

Yes, Adept is installed as part of Kubuntu, and I use apt-get a lot, but when I want a gui for installs and updates, I find Synaptic easier to use.

I needed an ftp program, and of the ones I tried, Filezilla seemed to work the best. Sometimes, though, its faster and easier to use Konqueror's ftp capabilities.

In my oh-so modest opinion, Evolution is the best e-mail program for linux that I've tried.

I need to get dellbuntu to hook up to my wireless router and wifi-radar does a better job for me. I used to use Wireless Assistant, but I had to manually tell it to connect every time I restarted the computer. wifi-radar automatically connects for me.

The best p2p program for linux that I've tried.

Up until recently, KDE's default file browser was Konqueror, the combination file browser, web browser, ftp client and I don't know what else. I prefer Dolphin because it feels faster and more responsive. On the down side, it lacks a couple of features that make Konqueror so damn useful: tabs, multiple split-window capability and the ability to drag & drop onto the side-pane. Maybe they'll show up in the 4.x releases, or maybe not. For that matter, maybe Konqueror 4.x might feel faster.

I usually do system upgrades in konsole. A quick sudo apt-get update/upgrade and I'm done. If a program locks up, a fast top followed by kill -9 <offending pid> and it's sorted.

my basic viewer for video clips and DVDs.

sometimes kaffeine won't play something. When this is the case, vlc will almost always pick up the slack.

not quite as polished as iTunes, but it works and it works damn well.

Open Office
screw microsoft. 'nuff said.

a good all-around text editor. I use it these days for all my html, css and javascript. When I get up off my ass and get back into java and C++, I'll probably use kate for that as well.

everyone needs a good usenet client, and this is the only one I could get to work for me. Two additional features and it'll be as good as Unison on the Mac: group posts by thread/upload, and create separate download folders for each grouping.

KDE4: Not Ready for Prime-Time

I've been using KDE in various flavors of Linux ever since I picked up a copy of Yellow Dog Linux 2.something on eBay for the princely sum of $4.00. That was back in '01 or '02, if I remember aright.

Digressions aside, I've been using KDE for at least 5 or 6 years, on, let's see: the Pismo, the beige G3, the B&W G3 and the G4 Dual-Proc, on the Gateway 400 MHz P-III, the Gateway 900 MHz P-III, the Shuttle 2.8 GHz P-IV and now on my Dell Core2Duo 2.0 GHz, as well as installing various forms of KDE-using Linux on several friends' computers and both of my step-daughters' laptops. Several years on several platforms: I'd say I've been using it. And I've liked it. When I found out that KDE4 was coming out, I was actually counting down the day. Screw Xmas, gimmee KDE4!

Well, now I've got KDE4 - downloaded & tried it on the evening of the 11th, when it came out for general use. My take on it? It's great, and it really sucks.

It's great: it looks fucking awesome! Finally, all the compiz/beryl stuff works, something I could never quite get myself geeked up enough to make work before. It's fast, and it's the basis of something that looks like it's going to be really good.

It really sucks: KDE4 is, actually, KDE4.0. And what do we all know about software releases? That's right, avoid the x.0 release like a skanky hooker with a bad case of Kryptonian Gonorrhea. When it's all grown up, it'll be good, but right now it's a puppy that isn't house-trained. Here's a short list of the things I've seen so far that I don't like:

1: the panel is fixed in size, location and (as far as I can tell) color. It has a limited repertoire of widget/gadgets/whatevers that can be added.

2: the taskbar only has one option/setting: show tool-tips. I pretty much have to be able to turn off "show windows from all desktops" or it's not usable.

3: desktops defaults to 4. I use 8, and I'm used to using the ctrl+<desktop #> to switch desktops. I actually thought they'd removed this capability, because I couldn't switch from d/t1 (online) to d/t8 (dev) unless I clicked on the desktop pager. Turns out that you can only use the keyboard to switch desktops for the first 4 desktops.

4: back to the panel: it disappears completely. Not just to me, either. Check out the Kubuntu and KDE forums and it's happened to a bunch of people. The only cure it to delete ~.kde4, or, possibly, some file or combination of files inside that folder. Some people claim that all you have to do is delete the plasma-related files & you're good to go, but I had to delete the entire thing to get the panel back.

5: it's unstable. This is unforgivable on a weekly basis, much less 5 times in less than two hours. The only way to get out of freeze is to hard-shutdown by pressing and holding the power button.

Bottom line: I like it, a lot, but not nearly enough to use it yet. I keep checking for and installing updates (and there have been quite a few), but until it hits, probably, the magic x.1 roadmark, it's not usable.