The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Don’t anyone worry, I’ve already let Jr. know that he needs to be in earlier than normal Tuesday night.

Kjel.org is heading to Palm Desert tomorrow; we’ll be there through Sunday. If the weather in SoCo stays nice its unlikely you’ll hear from the CEO until Tuesday. I’ve heard divergent opinions over the last few days, but just so I’m clear: babies love plane rides, right? I’m sure they do.

It was a banner evening last night for the CEO: I ate twelve different cuts of meat. I had my meat sweat going by course number eight, but I didn’t slow down. The Philipino Envoy to Kjel.org was not showing weakness, so I too had to be strong. I think in the end though the roast beast humbled us both. No man can stand up too long to such a ferocious, unending parade of meat. Meat on swords carried by gauchos, I might add.

The Brazillians not only love their meat, but they love to wrap their meat in thick, thick bacon, cooked rarer than many people might like. But not too rare for the CEO; I partook with what some might call excessive vigor. I had two dreams last night: in one I was rolling around in a mud puddle. In the other I was looking for truffles. Not sure what those mean, but I woke up craving some slop.

All in all, a fine night out. Many tasty options; everyone can find something they like. A bit expensive, but a very nice room, excellent service, and for certain, nobody leaves hungry.

On Saturday my doctor said that I really need to try to make it to more all you can eat restaraunts. He’s the boss. Kjel.org is dining at a Churrasco Rodizio tonight: an all you can eat Brazilian BBQ. Frankly I can’t believe I’ve never been to one before. I’ll give a full after-action report tomorrow, if my heart doesn’t stop before then.

Apparently the Brazilians really, really, really like their meat. Good people, the Brazilians.

VIENNA, Austria - Right-wing British historian David Irving was sentenced to three years in prison Monday after admitting to an Austrian court that he denied the Holocaust — a crime in the country where Hitler was born.

I’m not saying that Irving isn’t a deficient historian, a terrible person, or that the CEO wouldn’t hit him with a stick should his form ever darken the HQ’s door. But he absolutely should not be in jail. Free speech is free speech is free speech. The solution to the bullshit that Irving (or any other crazy asshat) puts out there is rational, responsive speech, not the suppression of the initial asshattery.

In this day and age especially there are very few reasons for denying anyone, stupid though they may be, their right to speak/publish/film/email/etc on any topic they so desire. In 2006 informed rebuttal is just too easy. Calls for limitations on free speech seem to always come from those who hold opinions or beliefs that can’t otherwise compete in the marketplace of ideas. Frustration sets in: Bad Idea Mad!! Bad Idea Smash Free Speech!!!

I hate to say it, because I know that their anti-Nazi goals are noble, but Austria should be ashamed. Wouldn’t it really be more anti-totalitarian to allow Irving to spout his idiocy, and then let free speech fulfill it’s corrective function? Jailing someone for their expression, no matter how wrongheaded they may be, is not the way civilized people ought to act.

The CFO was out tonight. The boys ran wild. We started with a great dinner: me and the boy split 1.5 pounds of cheddar, a ham, half a bag of Cheetos, 3 bananas, 1 jar of Vegetable Beef baby food, 4 beers, and a small tub of gourmet ice cream.

We also had music time. He’s been showing signs of dancing lately, so we started with a brief dance-off involving The Crazy Eights. I’ve no idea really who won, but the boy was looking pretty tough. Not that its difficult to beat the CEO in a dance-off.

After that, I thought it was time to seriously rock. First Leppard, then Van Halen, and then some Maiden. Jr. loved it all, but he’d heard it before. Turns out he wanted to hear something a bit more, ah, urban. The CEO pulled out Run-DMC; Jr. pronounced it def. He got to hear also some PE and some NWA; both dope, to use his term. And certainly appropriate for small children. His favorite by far though was The Humpty Dance — we both got down to that one. “Hey yo Stinkboy, come here, are you ticklish?” He was. A good night all around.

The CEO is on antibiotics for the first time since 1992. 500 mg of clarithromycin are right now coursing through my veins, scouring out evil germs and subjecting them to all kinds of indignities before finally dispatching them. With extreme prejudice. That’s how I’m visualizing it anyway.

At the Urgent Care clinic on Hall and Oleson this morning the MD poked his light/magnifying glass deal into my ear. “Goddamn, you are sick. Did that hurt?” “No shit, doctor, and yes. Can I please have some drugs now?” He proceeded to hook me up with a bunch of free samples. Not sure if that is his standard practice or if the CEO just looked poor. I was wearing a sweater I’d acquired the same year I last took antibiotics, so who knows? When the good doctor was describing how to take the drugs I mentioned to him that I was on birth control. He launched into his standard spiel before realizing who he was talking to. I giggled; man, the CEO can be funny. I’m sure the doc tagged my medical record with “PCP addict” and “raging Chlamydia.”

All that aside, the particular Urgent Care facility I visited definitely gets the Kjel.org stamp of approval. I showed up at 9:00. They’d never seen me before, so there was some paperwork to do, some computer inputting, insurance verifiying, etc. Still, by 9:20 I was headed back to the exam room. Nurse weighed me (she made a funny joke about my heavy shoes, God bless her. I’ll kill her last), took blood pressure and symptoms, and by 9:30 the doctor was poking about my headholes. I was outside in the car with free drugs by 9:45. Not bad at all.

If I ever need a liver transplant, I plan to steal the organ from one of this guy’s kids. Obviously a genetically superior individual:

According to the criminal complaints, Zahn was stopped at 11:07 a.m. on Aug. 20, 2005, on Highway A/I, four-tenths of a mile south of Short Road, after Dodge County deputies had received reports of an erratic driver. After the deputy stopped Zahn, whose vehicle matched the description, he told the deputy he was on his way to his residence on Highway CP. According to the complaint, Zahn was confused about where he was and insisted he was on Highway KP.

No field sobriety tests were performed, and according to the complaint, Zahn told the deputy, “I’m drunk, why do them?” When the deputy searched Zahn’s vehicle, he found a pig in the backseat, an empty fifth of vodka, an unopened 12-pack of beer and an insulated cup. A blood test showed Zahn had a blood alcohol concentration of .299.

Mr. Zahn, keep at least one of your kids off the sauce. With that sort of heroic liver (isn’t .299 fatal for most people? I know I went into a coma for two weeks when I hit 2.7 back in ‘95) running in your family, I may need to track down the dry one some day. We will have a nice dinner out somewhere, and then he or she will wakeup in a bathtub full of ice with new stitches on their midsection . . . Hopefully they wake up. Without a liver that might not happen.

With that new liver I would be unfrackin-touchable at beer pong. “Hoop me again, I dare you! It has no effect, mortal! Ahahahahaaaa!!!”

Presidents Day is a great holiday; who doesn’t like a three day weekend? Maybe though we could think about moving it to summer, or early fall perhaps? Yeah I know Abe and George were born on Feb 12 and Feb 22. If we’re going to lump them together anyway we might as well move the date out a few months. The first or second week of August, or the first week of October maybe? Any of those would be a nice time for a three day weekend.

MLK day is the problem: it was just a few weeks ago, and it seems like a waste to have two holidays like this so close to each other during the crappy weather time of year. Just so we’re clear, I would never intimate that the good Dr. King shouldn’t be accorded the same level of holiday props as the combined birthdays of the two most important U.S. presidents ever. Oh heavens no. I just wish his birthday was in August.

The CEO hates to do it, but tomorrow I think I will actually go to the doctor’s office and get some antibiotics. I haven’t taken any since I had strep throat back in ‘92, because usually I get over things on my own pretty quickly. It’s not happening this time, and my lungs just can’t hold much more phlegm.

I blame Jr. and the crazy mutant little kid germs he continually exposes me to. All part of his plan perhaps?

While playing with the boy the other night I stepped on a 4″ by 4″ wood block. I was backing up and it caught me by surprise; of course I was shoeless at the time too.

The block’s sharp edges hurt like an SOB, and made me stumble. The CEO damn near put his head through the HQ’s front window while trying to perform a controlled fall, neccesary since Stinkboy was underneath me and laughing, oblivious to the mortal danger above. I managed not to squish him.

In the course of heading to the ground I authoritatively put my knee into some other very solid ground based toy. Not sure what is was, but it made me forget all about my foot. I presently have a deep bruise and a shallow gash on my left knee. Baby toys are dangerous as hell, don’t be fooled by their cuteness.

I had my investigators look at the scene after it was all said and done: it’s inconclusive whether or not Jr. planned the whole thing. I wouldn’t put it past him — he’s quite wiley, and he loves to see daddy do stupid things. Going forward, I vow to be more vigilant in thwarting his diabolical schemes, unless he lets me in on them of course.

Open your mouths baby birds, because the CEO is about to drop you one sweet fat nightcrawler. Here she comes:

When you’re at Fred Meyer after work on Valentines Day because you don’t have even a card, there’s no doubt about it: damn, you’re in a tight spot. All of the good Valentines have been picked over, and there are nineteen panicky men crowded into the Valentine aisle pawing through the crap that remains. What to do?

Leave the Valentines Day section. Head over to the generic card aisle, where they have anniversary, wedding, sorry, get-well cards, and the like. There you will find a section just called “love”. Find a card that fits you and your lucky lady, write Happy Valentines Day inside, seal it, and you are all good. Proper, even. Much, much better than having to punch out some old guy for the last good V-Day card. Stupid ‘02. I try to forget it, but I have an ugly scar on my right hand vaguely shaped like an oxygen bottle that keeps reminding me.

That’s why I’m the CEO.

The CEO keeps hearing all this talk about some cartoons featuring the prophet Mohammed, and how pissed off a lot of people are getting. I took a look at them, and I can see where the raging Muslims are coming from: those cartoons totally suck. Of the twelve, not even one is remotely funny. Well OK, the one about paradise being short of virgins for the huge group of new martyrs was a little bit funny. But for the most part there is nothing funny in them, so it’s no wonder my bacon-hating Mecca-bowing brothers are having such a thrombo.

The CEO is well known for his efforts to promote world peace. In that spirit, I think that a scene from a Mohammed cartoon that’s actually funny might be a nice tonic for all the angry people out there right now. Below is a picture of Mo and Jesus from an episode of South Park. In that particular episode Big Mo and Big J are on the same side! They’re pals even! Together they fight and defeat the evil David Blaine! There might be some sort of message or lesson hidden in there, I’m not sure. It is funny though, and certainly the type of Mohammed cartoon the world needs much more of. I’m just happy to help.

Feeling a bit gun shy, Zaffino? Everyone else is promising major snow, but you seem to be equivocating? Why might that be? Allow me to be clear: the CEO is owed a Winter Blast. Kjel.org needs a Winter Blast. Promise it already, Matthew.

Zaffino: Just make it snow already dammit. My house is up on a hill so it shouldn’t even be that difficult for you. You’ve messed about long enough this winter don’t you think?

Matt, I have a toddler now and he would really like to play in the snow. He wanted to play earlier this year too, but it was not to be . . . despite what we were told. He cried for two weeks. Does it make you feel like a big man to promise my son snow and then take it away? Does it Matt? Huh? Does it? Huh? Does it!?! Yeah, I bet. He’s just a little boy, weatherman. Make him happy for once.

He might be smiling now, but he’ll make you pay later. He’ll always make you pay. Like the time this weekend he hit mommy in the face with a wrench. Granted, it was a plastic wrench, but I believe it is the thought that counts.

The CEO has felt like crap for quite a while now, and laying around my house all weekend wasn’t making me feel any better, so yesterday I tried a new sort of treatment. There is something quite satisfying about hitting a large piece of masonry with a sledgehammer, especially if you are standing in someone else’s living room while doing it. Therapeutic even. The Chief Educator is missing one fireplace and chimney, but he has gained one hell of a rubble pile. And those marks on the floor will buff right out. I’ll bring some wood putty and a sander next time I come over.

So the Chief Educator is now the proud owner of a 5″ x 3″ hole in his roof, and a matching one in his living room ceiling. There’s a tarp over the hole though, so no heat is being lost. Not one single degree. Which is fortunate:

From KATU:

Temperatures in the area could drop into the mid-20s at night and the 30s during the day later this week.

Maybe drape two tarps over the hole.

The CEO doesn’t feel all that bad really, but my lungs just keep producing. And I sound like I’ve smoked at least two packs a day since about the Ford adminstration.

I agree with the good doctor:

Dr Ray Stantz: Personally, I liked the university. They gave us money and facilities, we didn’t have to produce anything! You’ve never been out of college! You don’t know what it’s like out there! I’ve *worked* in the private sector. They expect results.

The CEO would probably get along with Mr. Ahmed Abu Dayya. I doubt the same would be true with regard to his customers . . .

GAZA, Feb 6 (Reuters) - When entrepreneur Ahmed Abu Dayya first heard that Danish caricatures of the Prophet Mohammad were being reprinted across Europe, he knew exactly what his customers in Gaza would want: flags to burn. Abu Dayya ordered 100 hard-to-find Danish and Norwegian flags for his Gaza City shop and has been doing a swift trade. “I do not take political stands. It is all business,” he said in an interview.

When you fall into conversation with the CEO, sometimes you just can’t move along. See the last paragraph.

Picture shamelessly ripped off from these guys, but sorry, I’m not in an apologetic mood right now.

From my man Michael Smith at ESPN:

DETROIT — Three weeks ago, after the Steelers held on to upset Indianapolis, Joey Porter was unhappy about the overturning of Troy Polamalu’s fourth-quarter interception that could have sealed the win much earlier. Believing that deep down the league preferred Peyton Manning and the Colts to win, Porter publicly criticized the game officials, asking them not to “take the game from us.”

Well, the Steelers can call it even now, as the officials who performed well enough throughout the season to earn the privilege of working Super Bowl XL performed Sunday as though they were trying to make it up to the Steelers by giving them the game — not just any game, but the biggest game. And, yes, this time the other guys, the Seahawks, cried conspiracy, only not quite as loudly as Porter.

“Those things are out of our control,” Seahawks quarterback Matt Hasselbeck said of the three major penalties that helped change the game completely. Not saying the outcome of the game would have been any different, but for sure it would have been a different game. “That’s the way [the officials] called them,” Hasselbeck continued. “The Steelers played well enough to win tonight, and we didn’t. They should get credit. It’s disappointing, it’s hard, but what are you going to do?”

Here’s what referee Bill Leavy’s crew did, point blank: It robbed Seattle. The Seahawks could have played better, sure. They could have done more to overcome the poor officiating. We understand that those things happen and all, but even with all the points Seattle left on the field, there’s a good chance the Seahawks would have scored more than the Steelers if the officials had let the players play.

The Seahawks got robbed. The CEO brought weak bacon. The Chief Educator’s car got flipped over and set on fire. Mr. Daws was finally forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his sexuality. A painful night all around really. Glad it is over.

In today’s Guardian

Anjem Choudhary, one of the leaders of the demonstration, refused to condemn the threat of another suicide attack in London on the scale of the July 7 bombings as a result of the perceived insult to Islam. “I am not in the business of condoning or condemning,” he said. “The fact is that 7/7 was brought upon the people of London and Britain by the foreign policy of Tony Blair. There is no reason why there should not be more suicide bombings in London.”

What the hell is happening in Britain? Where are the drunken yobs and hooligans I used to know and love and try to emulate? In my day we would have yelled Oi! and then kicked Mr. Choudhary’s ass eight ways from Sunday.

I’m going to get drunk, gamble, and eat a pound of pork tomorrow. Allah willing, of course.

Did I mention that I won a small chunk of change betting on the Seahawks in Vegas? I blew part of the money today in a way that should make any red blooded American (male) proud: a keg of beer and four pounds of bacon. Thick cut. Both will be consumed at the Chief Educators house tomorrow in front of several TV’s.

Can you imagine the wailing in Seattle if this had hit there tomorrow morning instead of today?

Anyone who knows where I work will recognize that this is a monumental pain in the CEO’s ass. How am I supposed to get to the office by 10:30 if the city is going to do stuff like this? And do we really want more pedestrians and cyclists on Front Street? I nearly run someone over every day on my way to work as it is.

Google has a team of fetching young ladies they call the Google Girls that they send to industry trade shows, conferences, Google sponsored events, etc. The event I was just at was fortunate enough to be graced by their presence. Just to give you an idea, while I’m not sure that she is an official Google Girl, she is representative of the species.

This sort of thing (the “booth babe“) was common back before the bubble burst, but you just don’t see much of it anymore. Or enough of it. All hail Google!

The CEO gets back from Cali late last night to discover that the CFO is now a super-sicky again. She called me at work at 11:00 this morning unable to speak, just grunting into the phone. I finally understood that she needed a ride to the doctor. That didn’t mess me up at work at all, since of course I’m not behind or anything like that. No, of course not. Couldn’t be.

I’ve decided I might burn down the Beaverton Keizer unless they make certain improvements involving speed of patient service. I know the CFO would have backed me up on that one today. We finally, finally got out of there with the proper drugs to treat her, and hopefully the vicodin is kicking in by now. I left her a pint of Wild Turkey to wash it down with. Have I mentioned I’m a doctor?

Dinner will be tough, seeing as earlier today at least the CFO was unable to swallow anything without crying. We do have a bunch of baby food at the HQ, so dinner for two-thirds of Kjel.org tonight might be Gerber Apricots with Mixed Fruit and Vegetable Chicken.