Even kids with chickenpox

25 07 2012

You ever bite into a brat and look at it?

(A bratwurst, you perv! Bratwurst!)

Well, it’s a bad idea—no, not the bratwurst, not if you’re a meat-eater (which I no longer am, but once was)—but the looking.

You got that?

Okay, what I mean to say is that while a bratwurst, especially a beer-soaked brat slathered with whatever mess you want to slather on it and nestled in the only-to-be-found-in-southeastern-Wisconsin hard roll, is a damned fine meal, it is also a meal which one might want to close her eyes to enjoy.

Even the best wurst, after all, is sausage, and even the best sausage looks like. . . sausage.

All of this is to say that the spam this blog attracts is best not inspected too closely.

WordPress does a pretty good job of catching most of this canned internet sausage  in a filter, and it’s easy for me simply to shake out the spam en masse, but since every once in a great while a real comment is snared, I feel the need to inspect the filter before slamming it against the side of the computer to clear it.

And what do I find upon inspection? Ads for shoes/handbags/misc junk, generic compliments, generic suggestions, generic criticisms, comments in Cyrillic, comments in Greek, and these incredibly long and irritating comments on the global financial situation and, Zeus forbid, the gold standard.

Dull dull dull dull dull. I should be grateful I don’t attract trolls; while they can be amusing in their obvious trollishness, they are more often dull in their obnoxiousness. And these spam bits aren’t generally offensive—unlike some of the stuff I get in one of my email accounts, with subject lines containing come-ons for violent sex with teenagers.

(No, I don’t click through and yes, if I thought it were really child porn I would contact authorities. You would too, right?)

Still, if you’re going to splatter your junk all over the internet, why not show some pizzazz, a bit of flair? Why not slather that spam in some enticing mess to get me to bite?

Huh, I never thought I would miss the Nigerian dictators eager to share their millions with me.





My brain scatters

15 03 2011

Look at this man:

T-Paw!

Do you not think: Midwestern Mitt Romney?

Same high forehead, slightly shorter hair, similarly fairly-successful governor of an M-state, same general corporate sensibility with the occasional plaid-and-guns image thrown in, more tolerant of creationism, less Mormon, also not-yet-officially-running to be the GOP nominee for president.

Oh, and similarly empty empty empty.

~~~

I have been getting a large amount of truly boring spam, almost all of which was directed to my “Music Thief” page.

“Interesting approach to this issue. I learned alot [sic]. Thank you much for this!”

For a list. Uh-huh.

Anyway, I stopped updating it awhile ago, so I had no reservations in deleting it.

Let’s see if the spamsters latch on to another page.

~~~

Why oh why do I need a prescription for levothyroxin?

I’ve been on the exact same does for 10 years, and in the years before that, the dose moved only slightly upward or downward.

Sure, yearly checks of thyroid levels makes sense, but absent any changes, why can’t I simply get this from the pharmacist?

That seems to me a decent alternative for all kinds of drugs (not least of which are many birth control pills): an initial scrip needed, and, if no problems, a conversation with a pharmacist for ongoing renewals.

Yes, there’s a background to this: I’ve been trying to get my scrip renewed but the doc hasn’t called it in the pharmacist, nor has she contacted me to let me know if there’s a problem. And I’m out of pills.

(Yes, I called before they ran out. I figured the prescription would be called in before I ran out. Silly me.)

This is more annoying than anything: I’ll hit up a local urgent care clinic if I don’t hear from someone at the clinic—generic synthroid isn’t hard to score, as it’s neither a narcotic nor does it have any street value—but I’d rather avoid the expense and time-suck.

Grrr.

~~~

I woke up wondering What was the name of that guy from Jurassic Park? And that movie with Nicole Kidman? And that weird movie I watched in French (and didn’t understand) with I think Isabel Adjani? And (brrr) Event Horizon?

Neil. Neal. Something Neil. O’Neill. Ed? Ed O’Neill? No, that’s the  Married With Family-guy. Ed Harris. No. Dammit. Maybe not Neal at all. Maybe Harry. Or George. Or Lincoln.

What the hell? Why can’t I remember?

And why am I thinking of this? He’s not all that interesting an actor; I’ve got nothing for or against him. What the hell?

Sam Neill.

Criminy. I am losing my mind.





Gimme some loving!

20 01 2011

This was left on my comments to “Music Thief”:

The next time I learn a blog, I hope that it doesnt disappoint me as much as this one. I imply, I know it was my option to read, but I really thought youd have one thing attention-grabbing to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about one thing that you would fix should you werent too busy on the lookout for attention.

Love it!